Neverland
Well damn. I've had insistent nature calls the last two Sunday evenings, having to bolt to the restroom during class at nearly the same time. Both times I'd had Rye cracker sandwiches and hard boiled eggs for my main meal. I had left-over sandwiches so that is what I had for my breakfast today. No problem. Well yes there is a problem, I like eggs and finding out they were a powerful laxative is not making me terribly happy. I suspect there may be other things I need to avoid or consume in moderation.
I've assumed the last several years it was wheat or dairy, and have had little success when trying to remove one or both from my diet. I'm hoping there's nothing else I need to eliminate (ucky pun), but I'm not holding my breath. Having found one of the foods I'm particularly sensitive to is a big step, assuming I'm right. I'm not anxious to test my theory right away, as I'm pretty convinced I've found the first culprit. I guess all this clean living and heightened physical awareness is paying off. Why couldn't I be sensitive to something I wouldn't miss so much, like Brussels sprouts, anchovies, or refined sugar?
I'm so looking forward to the holidays, when I'll take vacation from December 13th to the end of the year. I've only used a three vacation days since I started at Expedia in February 2004, and I'm taking these vacation days so I don't lose them. During that break I hope to visit New Brunswick, New Jersey where Gregory is going to school (Rutgers) and do a little tourist action in New York, see some shows.
There's an urge to write building. Partly because I haven't in a while, partly that side getting fired up by the training I'm immersed in. Ric and Tim are talking of their writing too, which makes me want to scratch the itch a little more. I'm still at that aimless point. Something is screaming for me to write it down, and I can't figure out what. I've got a month to nail it down. I started something inane, inspired by The Dumb Waiter. Whether I really work it later, or just use it to relieve a little pressure I can't tell you. I've several projects in various stages, but none of them are calling to me right now, though they are still living with me. I'm discombobulated. No surprise there. The only surprise would be if I wasn't.
Saturday was an odd day. I worked, with a break to develop/rehearse a 2-2.5 minute piece for Acting, using comic elements, doing a scene based on Cyrano (David) wooing his love (Lori) on the balcony through a stand-in (me). Pretty fun, and we've a cute idea we hope will do alright. Then back to work after a scare about locking my key card in my office. There was no one else working, but after a few minutes I found I'd stuck it in my pocket. Ten minutes of frustration is certainly better than an hour or two of idle waiting hoping someone could let me back into the offices.
Some more work then I left for the Lavy's. The weather was not cooperative, and my gear was soaked by the time I arrived. So was my head, as I'd left their address in the office, and taking off the helmet to call for directions soaked my head. Then the helmet when I put it back on. I was only five blocks or so away, as I remembered the neighborhood. After dinner my gear was still very wet, the weather still sucked, but I enjoyed the ride because of the glow from the evening.
Great food and even better company. I really enjoy talking with Jennifer and Joseph. They are artists with much more training and experience than I. They are gracious and fascinating. The opportunity to share ideas, chat, and break bread with them is a wonderful gift. And the second such break from class and work in as many weeks. I really hope we can find time to get together regularly.
Their daughter Catherine was terribly excited I was coming for dinner. That puzzled me. I know kids tend to like me, usually because I like being silly with them, but I don't think we've played much, if at all. Maybe I'm getting more forgetful than I'd thought. I'd rather think it is because Catherine is very perceptive -- most probably a bit telepathic according to her parents. I've mentioned here before I really enjoy children, and think of them as real people. I was treated that way by a lot of people growing up, so it doesn't seem unusual to me, though I'm told it is.
I don't get to spend a lot of time with young children, as very few of my friends have them, and my youngest nieces and nephews don't live nearby. Would I get tired of children if I was around them a lot? I don't think so, but it may be my own conceit. I just know I surely enjoy talking and playing when I get a chance. They are a lot like actors, only more spontaneous and unrestrained. A great influence on us grown-ups who are trying to relearn that kind of truth. I guess the favor is reciprocated. My step sister was telling me a few weeks back that her kids were still talking about the silly games we played during the Labor Day holiday at the cabin. My nephew regales his friends and anyone who will sit still in his verbose four year old way about Uncle Scott's silly voices and pratfalls while we played. I was surprised. I'm nothing like any of my uncles who I thought were so uber cool. The difference is I focus on them. Instead of trying to show off or get them focused on me I play, and let them make up just as many, or more of the rules and circumstances for our temporary world. I just want to have fun. Logically I understand it would be more fun for the kids, and can see it in practice when others do the same. Still, it bemuses me a little.
I never want to grow up.
I've assumed the last several years it was wheat or dairy, and have had little success when trying to remove one or both from my diet. I'm hoping there's nothing else I need to eliminate (ucky pun), but I'm not holding my breath. Having found one of the foods I'm particularly sensitive to is a big step, assuming I'm right. I'm not anxious to test my theory right away, as I'm pretty convinced I've found the first culprit. I guess all this clean living and heightened physical awareness is paying off. Why couldn't I be sensitive to something I wouldn't miss so much, like Brussels sprouts, anchovies, or refined sugar?
I'm so looking forward to the holidays, when I'll take vacation from December 13th to the end of the year. I've only used a three vacation days since I started at Expedia in February 2004, and I'm taking these vacation days so I don't lose them. During that break I hope to visit New Brunswick, New Jersey where Gregory is going to school (Rutgers) and do a little tourist action in New York, see some shows.
There's an urge to write building. Partly because I haven't in a while, partly that side getting fired up by the training I'm immersed in. Ric and Tim are talking of their writing too, which makes me want to scratch the itch a little more. I'm still at that aimless point. Something is screaming for me to write it down, and I can't figure out what. I've got a month to nail it down. I started something inane, inspired by The Dumb Waiter. Whether I really work it later, or just use it to relieve a little pressure I can't tell you. I've several projects in various stages, but none of them are calling to me right now, though they are still living with me. I'm discombobulated. No surprise there. The only surprise would be if I wasn't.
Saturday was an odd day. I worked, with a break to develop/rehearse a 2-2.5 minute piece for Acting, using comic elements, doing a scene based on Cyrano (David) wooing his love (Lori) on the balcony through a stand-in (me). Pretty fun, and we've a cute idea we hope will do alright. Then back to work after a scare about locking my key card in my office. There was no one else working, but after a few minutes I found I'd stuck it in my pocket. Ten minutes of frustration is certainly better than an hour or two of idle waiting hoping someone could let me back into the offices.
Some more work then I left for the Lavy's. The weather was not cooperative, and my gear was soaked by the time I arrived. So was my head, as I'd left their address in the office, and taking off the helmet to call for directions soaked my head. Then the helmet when I put it back on. I was only five blocks or so away, as I remembered the neighborhood. After dinner my gear was still very wet, the weather still sucked, but I enjoyed the ride because of the glow from the evening.
Great food and even better company. I really enjoy talking with Jennifer and Joseph. They are artists with much more training and experience than I. They are gracious and fascinating. The opportunity to share ideas, chat, and break bread with them is a wonderful gift. And the second such break from class and work in as many weeks. I really hope we can find time to get together regularly.
Their daughter Catherine was terribly excited I was coming for dinner. That puzzled me. I know kids tend to like me, usually because I like being silly with them, but I don't think we've played much, if at all. Maybe I'm getting more forgetful than I'd thought. I'd rather think it is because Catherine is very perceptive -- most probably a bit telepathic according to her parents. I've mentioned here before I really enjoy children, and think of them as real people. I was treated that way by a lot of people growing up, so it doesn't seem unusual to me, though I'm told it is.
I don't get to spend a lot of time with young children, as very few of my friends have them, and my youngest nieces and nephews don't live nearby. Would I get tired of children if I was around them a lot? I don't think so, but it may be my own conceit. I just know I surely enjoy talking and playing when I get a chance. They are a lot like actors, only more spontaneous and unrestrained. A great influence on us grown-ups who are trying to relearn that kind of truth. I guess the favor is reciprocated. My step sister was telling me a few weeks back that her kids were still talking about the silly games we played during the Labor Day holiday at the cabin. My nephew regales his friends and anyone who will sit still in his verbose four year old way about Uncle Scott's silly voices and pratfalls while we played. I was surprised. I'm nothing like any of my uncles who I thought were so uber cool. The difference is I focus on them. Instead of trying to show off or get them focused on me I play, and let them make up just as many, or more of the rules and circumstances for our temporary world. I just want to have fun. Logically I understand it would be more fun for the kids, and can see it in practice when others do the same. Still, it bemuses me a little.
I never want to grow up.
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