"if I could, I surely would"
Last night, I went with my parents to see the Opera in the Park! It was SO amazing. Wow. The San Francisco Opera always puts on a good show, so that made up for the fact that we didn't technically see it live. It was simulcast from the opera house onto the big HD screen at the Giant's baseball stadium. Tosca is not my favorite of favorites, but definitely up there on my opera list. :P The chick is the hero, so I'm sure it's also a major feminist favorite too, haha. The singers were absolutely FANTASTIC. The woman who sang the part of Floria Tosca...:O wow. My eyes watered a bit during her stirring aria about why she had to endure such pain. AHHhh, one of the few things in life that can make me emotional- opera.
*le sigh* So more on the topic of the boy... Uhm, sometimes I go away from a conversation with him feeling like crap. When I first met him, I got this vibe that he was some sort of a heartbreaker that could get just about any girl, basically, so that's why I didn't bother flirting too much with him even though I did kinda have a thing for him. Even when flirting talking to him now, he can seem a bit distant on some subjects. Or maybe it's just because it's an...AIM conversation that I feel crappy about that. I've already figured out that I do want to go out with him in the fall when I can SEE him again, but if it just ends up being a fling, then that's what it'll end up being. Meh. Or maybe it's because it's the middle of the night and nobody's brains are on straight.
I KNOW I've said this before here, but listening to Simon and Garfunkel is like having a good cry. The album "Bookends" plays out that way, anyhow. The first section is all about remembering the past, realizing that we're all going to die, and all sorts of considerations that people have when they're old. Then there's the end...which has some of the BEST rock out songs ever.
I feel like I've eaten several donuts. Ugh. I need sleep.
OH have the first installment of a short story I wrote. It's called "The Opera". Very very rough draft. Still writing the end. I figure putting it here will convince me to finish it. :P
It was a sleepy town, perched in the valley between two freeways; whatever a sleepy town was. Any college town is a sleepy town any Saturday before about 2 pm. This was one of those perpetually timeless places that you could pull a Rip van Winkle in and not miss a beat.
It was also, however, a very busy town, according to its wives and mothers, living wildly and vicariously through their mundane and sheeplike children that they had trained to be that way. The kids could barely walk down the street without someone in the PTA finding out and hearing about it. The neighborhood watch signs atop every other block of suburban landscaping were not kidding.
Today's meeting of the PTA, however, would be different. The topic of conversation was not about poor little Suzanne's dislocated shoulder that would heal in about three more months yet or about those shifty immigrant family children that played basketball rather loudly and taking up the whole street as they did so. No, neither about how much time Mrs. Robert's son was spending over at the house three blocks down with the shy brunette girl or how splendid it was that Mrs. Nesbit brought her famous pie recipe. No, not about that at all. This time the meeting was entirely centered upon the mysterious absence of Mrs Cleaver from town entirely.
~ ~ ~
Rita Cleaver nervously paced her kitchen, clasping her hands and turning the radio louder every time she passed it. "Young housewives have breakdowns like this all the time, right?", she whispered to herself under the sound of the radio. "Husbands are just people too. Oh, Rita, talk some sense into yourself! Tom loves you! Tom loves you. Tom loves- Heh, well if he loves me, he's sure doing a helluva job caring."
"OUCH!", she shrieked, having tripped over the broom she had gotten out to sweep the tile floor and promptly forgotten about. Unfortunately, things are easier to trip over, mess up, or simply forget about when one is preoccupied thinking about something else. This is something Rita knew well at this point.
She was hunched over, clutching her big toe when Tom burst in through the door. "I'm home, honey. When's dinner? I've got a conference call that I don't know how long it's going to go."
Rita blankly looked up at him. "I don't know."
Tom's phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket as he glanced up at her, "Hey, you ok?" She nodded as she got up, watching him leave to take yet another call.
Rita was entirely conscious of Tom's need to take calls from Japan outside the office because the time difference made it easier for his associates overseas. She understood that when he took the job. She also knew that when he promised her this nice house with the raise he got. Then, as newlyweds, getting time of day from her husband wasn't an issue.
She stepped lightly on her injured toe, down the hallway to Tom's office. "Tom, you remembered the Opera was tonight, right?"
He looked up from his phone call, mouthing something to her. Rita was confused, so he held up his index finger, telling her to wait until the call was over.
Katrina
*le sigh* So more on the topic of the boy... Uhm, sometimes I go away from a conversation with him feeling like crap. When I first met him, I got this vibe that he was some sort of a heartbreaker that could get just about any girl, basically, so that's why I didn't bother flirting too much with him even though I did kinda have a thing for him. Even when flirting talking to him now, he can seem a bit distant on some subjects. Or maybe it's just because it's an...AIM conversation that I feel crappy about that. I've already figured out that I do want to go out with him in the fall when I can SEE him again, but if it just ends up being a fling, then that's what it'll end up being. Meh. Or maybe it's because it's the middle of the night and nobody's brains are on straight.
I KNOW I've said this before here, but listening to Simon and Garfunkel is like having a good cry. The album "Bookends" plays out that way, anyhow. The first section is all about remembering the past, realizing that we're all going to die, and all sorts of considerations that people have when they're old. Then there's the end...which has some of the BEST rock out songs ever.
I feel like I've eaten several donuts. Ugh. I need sleep.
OH have the first installment of a short story I wrote. It's called "The Opera". Very very rough draft. Still writing the end. I figure putting it here will convince me to finish it. :P
It was a sleepy town, perched in the valley between two freeways; whatever a sleepy town was. Any college town is a sleepy town any Saturday before about 2 pm. This was one of those perpetually timeless places that you could pull a Rip van Winkle in and not miss a beat.
It was also, however, a very busy town, according to its wives and mothers, living wildly and vicariously through their mundane and sheeplike children that they had trained to be that way. The kids could barely walk down the street without someone in the PTA finding out and hearing about it. The neighborhood watch signs atop every other block of suburban landscaping were not kidding.
Today's meeting of the PTA, however, would be different. The topic of conversation was not about poor little Suzanne's dislocated shoulder that would heal in about three more months yet or about those shifty immigrant family children that played basketball rather loudly and taking up the whole street as they did so. No, neither about how much time Mrs. Robert's son was spending over at the house three blocks down with the shy brunette girl or how splendid it was that Mrs. Nesbit brought her famous pie recipe. No, not about that at all. This time the meeting was entirely centered upon the mysterious absence of Mrs Cleaver from town entirely.
~ ~ ~
Rita Cleaver nervously paced her kitchen, clasping her hands and turning the radio louder every time she passed it. "Young housewives have breakdowns like this all the time, right?", she whispered to herself under the sound of the radio. "Husbands are just people too. Oh, Rita, talk some sense into yourself! Tom loves you! Tom loves you. Tom loves- Heh, well if he loves me, he's sure doing a helluva job caring."
"OUCH!", she shrieked, having tripped over the broom she had gotten out to sweep the tile floor and promptly forgotten about. Unfortunately, things are easier to trip over, mess up, or simply forget about when one is preoccupied thinking about something else. This is something Rita knew well at this point.
She was hunched over, clutching her big toe when Tom burst in through the door. "I'm home, honey. When's dinner? I've got a conference call that I don't know how long it's going to go."
Rita blankly looked up at him. "I don't know."
Tom's phone vibrated. He reached into his pocket as he glanced up at her, "Hey, you ok?" She nodded as she got up, watching him leave to take yet another call.
Rita was entirely conscious of Tom's need to take calls from Japan outside the office because the time difference made it easier for his associates overseas. She understood that when he took the job. She also knew that when he promised her this nice house with the raise he got. Then, as newlyweds, getting time of day from her husband wasn't an issue.
She stepped lightly on her injured toe, down the hallway to Tom's office. "Tom, you remembered the Opera was tonight, right?"
He looked up from his phone call, mouthing something to her. Rita was confused, so he held up his index finger, telling her to wait until the call was over.
Katrina