Love.
Musicals are beautiful. Where else do individuals break into song when the moment arrives, where else is everything so lovely or depressing; so dynamically emotional? I love it.
January is supposed to have the most "sunny" days of the year, this January must have been sad. I should make some tea for January, play Cabaret, the one where Sally is not Natasha Richardson, and tap dance, with Christmas tree lights twinkling around his soul. Maybe then the sun would shine.
"Everyday learn. Learn enough so that you can do good theatre."
-Michael Shurtleff-

Fear/sadness/frustration/hoplessness/love bloats my soul.
I wish I knew.
I wish that the transparent, ill, dark individual did too.
I miss the transparent, ill, dark individual.
I hope that the transparent, ill, dark individual knows this.
I am self-centered.
Sorry.
I shouldn't try so hard. No one really cares. Truth and hatred, what do I know.
Sorry.
I shouldn't even bother. It doesn't matter.
I miss love.
You.

before 9pm.
home.
apples.
Happiness.
It is a bizarre actualization to realize your schema. What a bizarre yet true concept. Your schema. The schema that filters false media. The media that publicizes fear. I refuse. AOL/Timewarner makes me terribly sad.
Ninny came to Eau Claire on Monday. I adore her. Our meeting was brief yet it was beautiful and made my soul smile.
"and fuel oil, pushed over a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse....." ahhhh. Rent.
"Not in my backyard utencils, go back to China!"
brown eyes,
tea,
birkenstocks,
Anton Chekhov,
Rehershals,
baby snow,
rain,
water,
David Mamet,
French Impressionist art,
fabric,
love,
torn newspaper,
happiness.
Fragment.
Fragments.
I am a fragment.
Fragment.
Not passive voice or a Gerund phrase but a fragment.
Fragment.

The theatre was dark. Overweight, garlic scented women perfumed the air with their laughter, rude whispers and heavy breathing. We were the youngest there. How bizarre, a show that has such a flare that would attract individuals from all ages only attracted the heavy elderly end of the spectrum. It saddens me. The show did not. It was beautifully humorus.
Good conversations, good creativity and realxation at Bo-Jangle's maison on Friday. I love those conversations where two or however many individuals are on the same level and are fighting for the same thing. It was beautiful. Talking for two hours seems to dissolve into thirty mintues when the rest of the world is dying and living and being born some are enclosed in a conversation where all are ears active. Especially after a meeting where many generally good individuals were not active and were rude. One person of which I had the opportunity to spend the next night with and I realized why at times I strongly dislike this person.
There are many people in the world. No one cares if you are cold. Especially when this individual lives in a lush house with loving parents, a massive amount of food and people that are not friends that simply tolerate this individual, this individual has their names in a pink leather address book that simply shows how superficial and weak this individual really is. I don't care that you are cold. This individual wears a two-hundred dollar coat from some "amazing" place in Minneapolis. This indiviudal had $7,000 worth of metal on her sugar glazed, stubby teeth that she can click together when cold. I don't care if your head hurts or your father is a doctor. Why the hell should I? I don't tell this individual these things. I don't care about other people or why your cousin is so great. I care about other things and further more I do not care if you are cold. If this indiviudal continues to parade through the world as she does she will be cold, not only physically but socially and metally as well. Love is warmth. Love for others is something that this indiviudal does not posess. She only loves herself.
The meeting was disapointing. I had hopes for analyzing why Blanche parades around in flowy costumes and insists that Mitch put a shade over the nude light bulb, why Stella loves Stanley and why Tennessee Williams is amazing.
My poor spelling and punctuation is used to show my anger at those who don't care. Those who ignore the pulp in life. Those who ignore the truth. The fact that orange juice had pulp and that oranges should not cater to their needs. Oranges do not care. Kudos to those who shiver in the cold but don't say a word because they see the carbonated warmth. Thanks to those who put up who the pulp in the orange juice. That's truth.
Love.

Love.

Love.

Love.

I want this hope. I will have this hope. I will have this love.
Love is amazing. I wish some individuals could simply pass more around.
Look.

The application is almost complete.
I would love to go to Vassar's Powerhouse summer theater apprentice program.
Ahhhh....it sounds so lovely and strenuous which is lovely.