epiphany

I had an epiphany today. When I have a daughter, I’m not going to name her Traffic, or any of the other silly things I’ve always said.

She’s going to be Robin.

why don’t I write anymore?

The internet is so seductive.

Anyway, I’m home.

The musical was fantastic, especially given some of the circumstances.

Oh Facebook Honesty Box, how you beckon. But on the other hand, you actually got some real information out of me and someone else. Relationship improving information.

MSN + webcam = long distance face-making at someone special. Once he gets his ass to Future Shop, we may start Skyping so we can SAY inane things while making faces, instead of just typing them.

Once you start thinking about being profound, it gets much harder.

I don’t even journal a lot anymore.

This must be fixed.

can’t

Today began normally.
I woke up, showered, got breakfast.
Went to lecture.
The lecture was sad but interesting, it was on the Holocaust.
Well, the first half was.
I had to leave partway through.
Because the lecturer was playing this beautiful Gorecki piece that Robin used in a play. And I tried to hold it together, but I just… can’t. I started crying, and I had to leave.

What else will set me off? I’m a little bomb full of grief, waiting to explode again.

I need to write something today…

…but what?

It’s going to be small random musings today.

How much shit can happen in one week? First Robin, now this. All of this long-distance shit. I hope this week will be less weird.

Facebook is a lifeline right now, it’s keeping me connected to so many people at home. Which is something I really need right now.

I keep meaning to do the readings, and not doing them. This is problematic.

I miss last year. I miss Rhymation, and Scattergories. I miss the theatre department.

I think the best way to start the morning is in bed, with homemade biscotti and a mug of King Cole tea. Delicious, peaceful, awesome.

Also, I miss the quadrilateral, from last spring. K., you know what I mean.

revision dilemma

There is a boy.  Last year, when I started this blog, I was romantically interested in him.  The tag for him to a certain extent reflects this.  Now we are friends, only friends.  I know I decided to not to revise previous posts to reflect the current truth, but what about tags?  It seems odd to tag him in a way that implies (at least to me) romantic interest, but I don’t want to just make up a new tag without changing all the old ones. So do I change the old ones?  Complicating the issue slightly is the fact that he and K. have the same first initial.

Anyway, I originally got onto this topic because I liked something he’d said about Robin:
“Robin had the reputation akin to a Goddess. She is always there; watching, waiting.”
Which I loved, and wanted to quote here.

I do almost feel like she’s still watching me, asking me why I’ve read so little of the Darwin I’m supposed to be reading.

I’ve been drowning my sorrows in Monty Python, junk food, and tea, mainly, because I’m sure she’d worry if I drowned them in anything stronger. (I did have a slightly spiked hot chocolate last night.)

I’ve been wearing this silly little bracelet, too. Just brightly coloured plastic beads – she picked it up one day when we were organizing the costume shop and said something like “this looks like you.”
My friend E. wears a beautiful, simple silver metal bracelet in memory of her friend Haley, and as lovely as something like that would be, the bright plastic found in the theatre somehow seems so much more appropriate for Robin.

Robin BR Wood

This is Robin BR Wood.  She was fucking amazing, and I really wish I’d made sure she knew how much she’s affected my life.

Robin was there from my freshman year, when I was a little Hot Topic wanna-be goth kid, until now.  In the theatre department I grew up into a girl who’s comfortable with who I am, a girl with set paint on her rain boots who proudly wears overalls in public.  I’m so much more confident due to Robin’s influence.  I know (some) ASL thanks to her, and her encouragement.  I’ve seen firsthand how the amazing the Children’s Garden that she helped create is.

And fuck, I miss her.

three more things

1. I found out when I went to quickly check my email before watching Ferris Bueller with some friends. The movie never happened. But part of me feels like if I hadn’t checked my email, she’d still be alive. Not rational at all, but… how I feel.

2. I go on Wikipedia binges sometimes, and I was partway through the list of serial killers. I’ve given up. Death just doesn’t seem interesting anymore.

3. I still have her cell phone number in my phone. Someday I’ll be ready to delete it, not today.

sadness.

I wish this wasn’t the first post in ages, there are so many good things that’ve happened since I last wrote.

The list I was starting in my head after my good friend K. told me to write here again had:
- the first black US President was elected and inaugurated
- I came to Canada for university
- I fell in love with the guy I met the first night of frosh week

But you know what happened?

An absolutely incredible woman died. She was my advisor for a good part of my high school years, and head of the theatre department, where I spent an absurd amount of time. She’s the one who got me to get my shit together on my senior project, she’s the one who helped me grow up. I already missed her, up here over 400 miles away. I’d promised her a longer email a couple of weeks ago, which I never wrote. It was going to be full of things I was so proud to tell her about. I was so excited that I’d get home in time to see the musical, too.

Life sucks, you know?

I think it might be harder for me, too, because I’m alone with this. None of my friends here knew her. There’s one other person in the city (that I know of) who went to my school, and I’m not sure he ever spent time in the theatre department. Not like I did, certainly.

I was talking to a friend last night, and she said: “people can be understanding, but when there’s a death in the family (which the theatre crowd certainly is), you just want to be with your family.” That’s exactly it. I want to hug someone who knows how I feel. I called K. last night, which helps, but I want to be with everyone. I want to choke my way through “Rose” (which we sang before every show) in a group, not alone.

But most of all I want Robin to give me a hug, and that’s never going to happen again.