Written March 9th, 2006
Today is the last day of my study break. It was so warm yesterday that all the snow that had fallen since we left for New York melted into beautiful slush…but today, the sky is throwing down wet, fluffy snow onto the dangerous ice. People driving by our house keep skidding as they try to stop at the stop sign. I hope my schoolmates who are at home can make it back safely before rehearsals start at 7 p.m.
I had the best of intentions this morning. I was going to be very productive and get stuff done – all I really had on my list was to work lines and work on costumes. So far, I’ve worked lines and make a gigantic snow rabbit with my friends. It is standing on an outdoor stage by the theatre and has great glowing eyes made out of orange slices. My roommate was going to take some of my Easter candy for some sort of decoration but I put my foot down. The idea of using perfectly good food for anything other than eating is beyond me. My friends say it is my Mennonite heritage coming out. It’s good to know I do actually have a connection to my roots.
After the rabbit was created (and it’s huge – it stands over 7 feet high, which meant bringing a stool outside to put on the ears, which were actually originally alien heads but the thing evolved…yeay, Darwin) we made a dress out of snow around Cari’s feet, and then buried Mel in snow and gave her Madonna cone-bra breasts. I became the official documenter of the morning’s events and took pictures with my camera. It was loads of fun, and wore us out enough to come inside and eat tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches, and hot chocolate. A bizarre mix, perhaps, but we were watching Moulin Rouge, which is nothing if not bizarre. Plus we’re actors. Strange behavior is part of the life style.
I like just being able to sit and write about my normal day. I like that I am losing my fear of being ‘discovered’. For some reason, a part of me feels like blogging is a terrible secret and that no one must ever find out that I partake. I guess it’s because I don’t want people that I know to read what I think sometimes. At first I thought it was just that I didn’t want my mother to read my thoughts online. She writes a blog, and has for over a year. It’s very good, and I read it regularly. I am learning things about her that I didn’t know before. I get to see a part of her life that I would never see any other way. And for some reason, I don’t want to reciprocate.
And there are some people I live with now that I don’t want reading my thoughts, too. My friend who had the unrequited love (although he’s dating her now, so I guess the unrequited part wasn’t completely true) – I have a lot of thoughts about their relationship that I don’t necessarily want them to know. Yet. And I know I haven’t exactly written them down here. Yet. But I might. And there are people I deal with every day that I may want to vent about, and the thought that they could read my true feelings here scares me.
But being scared isn’t the end of the world. Having someone stumble onto the complete and utter truth isn’t the end of the world. Taking a risk is not the end of the world.
Just the end of my safe little construction that I call a world, although it is really just a cardboard box in an alley somewhere.
It is a frightening and exhilarating thing to have comfort zones stretched or removed. It hurts a bit but as one of my many friends would say, it’s a good hurt.
And there is more than enough snow around to slow the swelling.