could it be? and actual update?
So I have finally decided that I have gone far too long without updating and that all of my most recent posts have been littered with mindless and obnoxious online quizzes which, i might add, are dangerously addicting and I suggest you avoid at all costs.
I've been crying a lot lately, but not for bad reasons really. That is to say my tears have not been a product of injury inflicted, intentionally or not, by other living persons. Oh I've cried over people alright, but they were tears of pride upon seeing my darling not so little Lizzy thrive in her off-broadway debut in a show that was sincerely moving and highly thought provoking- traits one is often hard pressed to find in a musical. Admittedly I cry at the drop of a hat, so the fact that a movie, and an animated one no less moved me to tears should not really come as a surprise. And then there were tears of grief, but they needed to be cried. They've been waiting ever since the end of March. I didn't get to go to the wake or the funeral for being too far away and unable to leave. This was the first and last step in the whole process for me.
It's weird to think back. Not just in this case but in any.
People were crying already when I got there, but I didn't cry until I saw her. The surviving half of the directing duo from my middle school days. It was a trio my sophomore year of high school. I was the third.
I always thought that I was hands down his favorite student, his number one diva, the one he felt was the most talented, the most promising, the most enjoyable to work with. But yesterday I realized that everyone felt that way. Everyone felt like they were special and mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. That's just the way he made people feel.
I wish I could talk to him one last time. Not about anything, just sit, chat and have a conversation. The last time I saw him I was in a dark wig with heavy make-up half sweated off and a microphone hooked to my ear in the back of the dingy high school auditorium. The middle school one really is so much nicer.
Thinking about him though I find I am not ashamed of anything. I am certain that I am becoming a something he would be proud of. Not just a performer but a person. I only hope that someday I can make people feel as wonderful as he always did. I try. And now I understand where my deep interest in the lives of others was born.
I only regret that I dislike some people. To my knowledge, he liked everyone. I hope that I will eventually learn to be so accepting.
I'll miss him forever but he'll always live on in my heart and I know he watches over and guides me still. Along with his hundreds of other "children".
I've been crying a lot lately, but not for bad reasons really. That is to say my tears have not been a product of injury inflicted, intentionally or not, by other living persons. Oh I've cried over people alright, but they were tears of pride upon seeing my darling not so little Lizzy thrive in her off-broadway debut in a show that was sincerely moving and highly thought provoking- traits one is often hard pressed to find in a musical. Admittedly I cry at the drop of a hat, so the fact that a movie, and an animated one no less moved me to tears should not really come as a surprise. And then there were tears of grief, but they needed to be cried. They've been waiting ever since the end of March. I didn't get to go to the wake or the funeral for being too far away and unable to leave. This was the first and last step in the whole process for me.
It's weird to think back. Not just in this case but in any.
People were crying already when I got there, but I didn't cry until I saw her. The surviving half of the directing duo from my middle school days. It was a trio my sophomore year of high school. I was the third.
I always thought that I was hands down his favorite student, his number one diva, the one he felt was the most talented, the most promising, the most enjoyable to work with. But yesterday I realized that everyone felt that way. Everyone felt like they were special and mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. That's just the way he made people feel.
I wish I could talk to him one last time. Not about anything, just sit, chat and have a conversation. The last time I saw him I was in a dark wig with heavy make-up half sweated off and a microphone hooked to my ear in the back of the dingy high school auditorium. The middle school one really is so much nicer.
Thinking about him though I find I am not ashamed of anything. I am certain that I am becoming a something he would be proud of. Not just a performer but a person. I only hope that someday I can make people feel as wonderful as he always did. I try. And now I understand where my deep interest in the lives of others was born.
I only regret that I dislike some people. To my knowledge, he liked everyone. I hope that I will eventually learn to be so accepting.
I'll miss him forever but he'll always live on in my heart and I know he watches over and guides me still. Along with his hundreds of other "children".