Visions and Revisions

Reading the play that Keith from work decided, for some reason, to finally email to me, a few things happen, such as I spill my drink, I accuse Dan of laughing at me for liking ideas better than execution, and I start remembering things.

1. I remember reading Zack's "travelouge" at Jiao Shi Xin Cun, drunk with Steven and how it was fun until it wasn't. And then it really wasn't.

2. I remember going to rehearsal early one time, and sitting in the space. I did that a lot, but I always remember, specifically, that one time. Isn't that funny how that happens? It's so weird what stays in your brain. That's why I never stand in the old house before I move out and say goodbye. Because that's not what you remember later.

3. I remember how we used to contemplate the big debate. Big or small? Like it was some kind of choice. Should we be big? Or small?

Reading this play, which is good, makes me melancholy. It makes me want to write two emails and not send one. It makes me want to shout out to some audience somewhere. But I'm gutless. Maybe I should write two posts and not post one.

Sometimes Rat writes raw stuff on her 'blog. Posts about how she loves things or feels down and I get all uncomfortable about it out of habit. Then I get jealous, and then I get appreciative. Good for her for leaving her stuff all over the floor. I know that's the good way to be.

I feel like in the last few years, I've accumulated so much wisdom. But I can't do anything with it. It's like I have majored in theology, English, art history or some other punch line, and now I am looking for a job, and I don't even know what job category to choose from the drop down menu.