In all that's good and all that's bad,
in all that's happy and all that's sad,
please remember this one thing:
It can't be changed,
what's done is done,
and the future is a spool yet spun
and what you weave is yours to choose
so take the chance, what's there to lose?


The Duchess.

After a somewhat dreary and soggy morning at the shelter, I sat down in the break room to eat a little something and rest before going back to my routine.  I took a moment to check my Facebook feed, and found that a friend had posted something of interest.

"Goodnight Duchess Sussex.  You made our world a more dangerous, exciting place.  I will miss you."

I posted a query in response:  "Is she retiring?"  It seemed to follow at the time.  The costumes are heavy; the days strenuous.

Not five minutes later the same friend called me.

She died.


I could not have been more shocked to hear of her passing.  I was told she died in her sleep.  After just another day of performing.  She was standing; interacting; jesting; glowing just hours before.  Faring people well.  Shooing them out.  Lining at gauntlet.  Trudging back down the hill.  Hanging up her gown.  Never to don it again.  Perhaps she was of poorer health than anyone knew.  Maybe she was fading quietly.  It is my understanding that she was a cancer survivor and I'm sure none would characterize her as anything but strong; stubborn; determined like no other.

61 just feels too young.  Too soon.  I wasn't ready.  Was anyone?


I met Lorraine for the first time in 2009.  Faire was my first theatrical venture since I graduated college in 2007.  I was a deer in headlights the first few rehearsals.  Introverted.  Lorraine was perhaps the first person I warmed to.  Made me feel at ease.  I don't remember how she introduced herself that first day, but I'm thinking it had a wry curse in it.  It wasn't "Hell hath no fury like Duchess Sussex", but it was something equivalent and witty.  I know some of my cast mates disliked our history lessons, but I loved hearing her bullet the entirety of the Renaissance for us.  I may just have to pull out my handbook to read it again . . . look at my notes . . . see if I scribbled any funny quotes . . . pause to recall . . .

I remember pairing up and receiving recognition for a florification exercise.  Nothing felt better than receiving her recognition.

I remember going to sit with her and another during a fairly pointless joint rehearsal.  I wanted to work on my dialect and grammar rather than sit idly.  She smiled and helped me along.

I remember running around with my cast brother (like the idiots we were).  We ran all the way down the hill, took a right at the pickle vendor, and flew into The Globe.  I was just chasing him, with some aggravated motivation.  Lorraine came in shortly after.  She told us that there were children we entranced with our bit, so she wanted to extend it.  She then kicked us out of Globe and yelled at us.  To see her approval and her smile was such a simple joy.

I remember co-creating a grovel for her the following year.  We dubbed it "The Sussex Special."  I performed it for her in all my glory:  instead of a curtsey, I clutched my neck and fell over instead.

I have never once begrudged my casted station . . . I adored being a peasant.  But I do feel a twinge of regret now . . . if I had been noble I feel as if my time with her would not have been so fleeting.  I passed her often, but only from here to there; rarely pausing.  I delivered missives and messages but we never shared that "one awesome bit" together.

You know, it's kind of amusing and pathetic that I can't quite recall any of our "out-of-character" conversations . . . I think I was just so in awe and happy that they were occurring at all that I didn't retain an ounce of it.  I just listened intently and sopped up the moment like a sponge.  I can only hope I wasn't drooling out of the corner of my mouth.

It is with my own memories, and the memories of many, that we remember you, Lorraine.  You were so much more than The Duchess.  You WERE Faire.  You were in every sign, every Times, on every lane, unpaved to paved.  The tears I shed are such a gift because they tell me that I knew you, however briefly.


"I know what my decision is . . . and it's not to decide."

So I was floating about my Facebook feed when a new entry from The Bloggess showed up.

If you don't follow her, you should.  She's flipping hilarious.  

But anyway.  Her psychiatrist is pressuring her to "make a plan."  

Now this one hit home for me.  So, although I don't usually reach my hand out to the ether of the internet, I wrote up a response to her.

"Hey listen. Friend in the universe. I wouldn't respond because you probably won't see this, but maybe you're just as neurotic as me and you will read EVERYTHING.

I know you're a bit older than me (I'm 27), but I have never had a plan. Like, ever. I tried to go into elementary education in college because it was "safe" and "stable" . . . but it was also bullshit. I don't need to be taught how to teach kids to draw with crayons. So I went the ME route. I got a degree in theatre performance. Yes, the loans are eating me inside out, yes, it was a whimsical choice, yes, it's highly unlikely that I would ever succeed with it as I have bipolar disorder, but damn it, it was my choice.

I've been feeling my way about ever since. I still don't have a plan. But the pieces all seem to fall into place when I need them too. After college I got involved with non-profit animal welfare, and now think that it might be a viable career choice (albeit meager). My boyfriend (now husband) has always been my rock, my bread-bringer-homer, and my reason. And I am, for the first time, acting "professionally." Someone's paying me for that shit. And damn it, that makes it a good day to be me.
{"Reflection" by Seasonal, DeviantArt.}

So I say - you don't need a plan. Because not having one is a PLAN TOO."


Bitch Sesh.

I am not going to be proud of the following post.  And I might take it down eventually.  But sometimes you just need to expunge.

One of my good friends has recently lost a serious amount of weight in a matter of a month or two on some gimmicky diet.  It sounds similiar to meal replacement (i.e. Slimfast).  Instead of being properly happy for her and supportive, a cruel, unfamiliar D surfaces to be spiteful.  Jealous.  Dismissive.

Somehow through everything, and I mean every FUCKING thing, I remain sunny.  Positive.  I approach each day like a new beginning.  And to see myself respond this way is saddening and oh so desparate.

How large a role do my individual chemical nuances play/prey upon me?  I've watched certain medications outright up my ante.  But I take it now to be certain and true that they affect my ability to lose weight.

{Source unknown.}

I haven't had the best habits.  Thus, after 10 years of medication, I'm now 60 pounds from where I should probably be. I'm legitimately trying, and properly this time.  I'm being mindful of intake as well as integrating exercise.  It's benefitting but nothing's really changing.

{Source Unknown.}

And I'm frightened.  I'm frightened too.  To try harder.  To completely alter my habits.  I always have been.  Because then what?  I know what.  Mania.  Making better decisions for myself leads to a tip of the scale in a happier direction.  A too happy direction.  A euphoric direction.  A hallucinogenic direction.  An inpatient direction.

But guess what?  I LOSE WEIGHT THEN.


Adios, Amigos.

So, my Mexican Restaurant is going to close.  Of course no one has made any official proclamations, but uh, when you don't order enough food/products to keep on trucking, staff start to become suspicious.  I probably worked my last "workable" shift tonight.  So, as a tribute to my first employment in Florida, I shall PRO/CON it up.

What I WON'T miss about Mexicana:
-The drama.  Oh the drama.
-Schedules made weekly rather than biweekly/monthly.
-The owner who could give two shits about his business.
-Not knowing when we're going to get paid.
-Incorrect tip wage accounting.

What I WILL miss:
-José.  He was a cool guy.  Probably one that time will take with it, like so many others.
-<3 JUAN! <3  De nada, corazon!  Mi amor!  (My Spanish is FLAWLESS)
-Everyone's honesty about my culo grande.
-The occasional Spanish programming I watched.  Especially the programs with dancing girls that José fawned over.
-Talking about tacas.
-The language barrier.  It made for interesting conversations.

Just look at it.  It's SO BEAUTIFUL.




I wish I may, I wish I might . . . have the wish I wish tonight . . .

I had an audition today for the cast of a dinner theatre production . . . and I could really, really use it.  For my self esteems . . . I mean, I think it's pretty likely I'd get cast at the faire that's coming up, but still . . .

I miss the stage.  I hope it misses me back.


Yes. Hmmm. Quite.

So it has been quite a while, as I have been made aware.  Mostly because I don't really want to face myself.  It's summer here, which means it seems like "winter" . . . wanting to hibernate, stay inside, not face the world.  Outdoor activities I treasure are just not pleasurable in this kind of heat.  So there's that.  Also, I still haven't figured out my "employment situation", if you will.  Oh, I'm employed.  Just serving at some barely successful restaurant.  I enjoy the people, anyway.  But the bigger questions still hang about me.  The boy wants me working more.  Which I can understand.  I'm not contributing as much as I could be.  And he deserves to reap the fruits of his labour, which he can't really do if he's paying off my student loans.  I just need a  production.  I need to get off my butt and memorize a classical monologue so I'm properly prepared if a good audition floats my way.  There is a Faire nearby in the fall, so I was thinking about doing that.  It seems to be volunteer, as in not paid, but really, any extracurricular will do.  I'm just sort of stagnating.  Not to mention my weight is creeping up on me.  The boy and I are probably going to join a gym and take cardio classes together.  Nothing sounds less appealing than failing in front of peers.  But we're fats.  We need it.

Other than those bits, I have nothing, really.  Just settling in.  I made a big girl purchase the other day!  Bought my first real bed.  It is ginormous.  King sized mattresses are the epitome of luxury.  It fits three people.  It is a three people bed.  Or a siamese twin and one of their significant others.  It's just unnecessarily large.  And we love it.  And my cat appropriately christened it this morning with some barf.  He really needs to stop eating so fast.

I'm learning bits of Spanish from working at my restaurant, as it is a Teximex kinda place. 

But really, nothing doing.  Nothing worthwhile.  Social media is difficult lately because it is just about my home Faire's season.  I see friends posting pics and statuses about their rehearsals and such.  It eats at me in a way that does not flatter me.  I so wish it didn't.


Destiny . . .

I don't know what path I'm destined to take.  I feel compelled to contribute financially as we transition in our new life, but I also feel like this is a momentous opportunity for me.  I have every day now to focus and recreate the D I mean to have.  But if I take this chance and succeed, there will be financial contribution.  These waters are just so murky and unknown.  Maybe I'll spend some time and the shore tomorrow to reflect.



Today is May 2, 2011.

As I once reflected on the catastrophic events of September 11, 2001, I found it only fitting to also reflect on today - the day that President Obama announced the assassination of terrorist leader Osama bin Laden.

The world is so much different today than it was a few short years thence.  Instead of hearing of his demise on the television or the radio, I was alerted that he was (likely) dead on Facebook of all places.  But this is now how the world connects with itself.  Once I saw this post by a friend I quickly went to the internet proper to verify.  I waited a good half hour for the official word from President Obama being broadcast live from the White House website.  I sat solemnly and listened.  I felt irrevocably part of something so much bigger than myself . . . the war and the fighting were suddenly so part of my American identity.  Politics has made me calloused and cold towards any of our doings, nationally or globally.  But this all brought my oneness to light.  WE fought.  WE discovered.  WE prevailed.  No matter how consciously or subconsciously I distance myself from external events, in the grand scheme, the be all and end all, I am an American.  Solidified by our leader.  Compelled to wait for his word.  It is a curious feeling to reflect upon.

And who could have imagined how polarized and extreme the reaction was.  My feed exploded with joy, snarky jest, stern contemplation; so vast and varying.

And the celebration!  In the streets!  D.C. and NYC - masses upon masses rising up to take comfort and exclaim their relief and perhaps crazed zealotry . . . . . . that is the aspect that startles me most.

I am so much reminded of how I felt when I watched Saddam Hussein's hanging.  Which, I suppose, is difficult to articulate.  I was appalled to be witness to such archaic "justice" in my lifetime.

But I suppose it is heartening to see so many I am friends with question.  Question our reactions; our immediate, seemingly universal rejoice.  I actually saw some older woman shout at Goodwill this morning, upon being wished a nice day, that it was a great day!  Osama's dead!

I am not so deluded to think that this outcome wasn't warranted, or even necessary from a military and national security standpoint.  But I will certainly respect the solemnity of his life, and those he affected.  Cautiously.  Pensively.  And just can not raise a flag and be joyous.

There will most certainly be more violence to come.


Oh god, why?

Let's not even discuss the fact that this is another list.

-amass writing samples
-complete thorough theatre resume
-compile audition monologues and songs

At least it's a fun one . . .



I don't want to glamourize smoking or anything, but it felt soooooo good to have a cigarette this evening.  I've never been addicted or a regular smoker, so when I do drag I get light-headed and euphoric.  What a way to end a shift.