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"Oh, We Will Never Die..."
Dec. 17th, 2005 04:00 pmI I I cannot possibly tell you how I feel--
I love the part of a dinner party where nobody's come yet and you're all dressed up and you know everything's ready, and the candles are lit and the fire's started and the table's set and everything is perfectly ready, but nobody's there, it's just you in your ready-for-peopleness, sitting in chairs and talking, feeling like you don't really belong there because the house is so meant for other people that it's not quite yours anymore.
...We're not that far yet, though, not for another hour and a bit. And I'm lounging around in jeans and one of Da's shirts, so really this is a little silly.
'Cept that I've lost four pounds this week. And if I can just be Really Awfully Good over the next two days I might be able to keep my weight down until I go to Tennessee, at least, which would be something, at least--
We're going to make gingerbread in Tennessee. Mum says I can bring her molds, and we'll buy all the things you need, and all of us, Johanna and Will and Waen and I, we'll make a gingerbread house. I've wanted to do this for years, for years and years. I never exactly had the time.
I've made four batches of chocolate truffles, and I have four batches of pecan shortbread to make and wrap before to-morrow. It's also hanging of the greens at church. Mum and I and Waen were talking about confession; Waen doesn't see why anybody would want to, but I certainly do. I've always wanted to go to confession. I still feel bad about things I said years ago, and things I did when I was back in school, even. I wouldn't mind at all being able to tell somebody.
I feel very excited about something that's going to happen, but I don't know what. But I know I can't wait, even though I don't know what I'm being so impatient about waiting for.
You know what's funny? Fortinbras makes me cry. Why is that? (she says, as if anybody would have a better idea) and actually lots of things do that aren't really sad. Or suddenly I'll realise that somebody dies, and I've never realised it before, it's a little hard to explain--it's the way I feel when I remember that so many people are dead by the end of Westmark. I'm playing Zara on DF, I wrote about her, I forget that she just isn't when it's all over. There's no more Zara. There's Florian, but no more Zara. I was doing the same thing with Hamlet the other day. I forget that at the end of the play, Ophelia's gone, Laertes, Hamlet-- especially Ros and Guil do this to me. I just forget and then I remember.
Aaaand to-day we went and bought poinsettias for Christmas, and Waen got a little crunkly red one, and Mum got a peppermint-spotted one, and I got a giant, giant red one with huge red leaves.
And that is why I don't know exactly how I feel to-day, or how to say it.
I love the part of a dinner party where nobody's come yet and you're all dressed up and you know everything's ready, and the candles are lit and the fire's started and the table's set and everything is perfectly ready, but nobody's there, it's just you in your ready-for-peopleness, sitting in chairs and talking, feeling like you don't really belong there because the house is so meant for other people that it's not quite yours anymore.
...We're not that far yet, though, not for another hour and a bit. And I'm lounging around in jeans and one of Da's shirts, so really this is a little silly.
'Cept that I've lost four pounds this week. And if I can just be Really Awfully Good over the next two days I might be able to keep my weight down until I go to Tennessee, at least, which would be something, at least--
We're going to make gingerbread in Tennessee. Mum says I can bring her molds, and we'll buy all the things you need, and all of us, Johanna and Will and Waen and I, we'll make a gingerbread house. I've wanted to do this for years, for years and years. I never exactly had the time.
I've made four batches of chocolate truffles, and I have four batches of pecan shortbread to make and wrap before to-morrow. It's also hanging of the greens at church. Mum and I and Waen were talking about confession; Waen doesn't see why anybody would want to, but I certainly do. I've always wanted to go to confession. I still feel bad about things I said years ago, and things I did when I was back in school, even. I wouldn't mind at all being able to tell somebody.
I feel very excited about something that's going to happen, but I don't know what. But I know I can't wait, even though I don't know what I'm being so impatient about waiting for.
You know what's funny? Fortinbras makes me cry. Why is that? (she says, as if anybody would have a better idea) and actually lots of things do that aren't really sad. Or suddenly I'll realise that somebody dies, and I've never realised it before, it's a little hard to explain--it's the way I feel when I remember that so many people are dead by the end of Westmark. I'm playing Zara on DF, I wrote about her, I forget that she just isn't when it's all over. There's no more Zara. There's Florian, but no more Zara. I was doing the same thing with Hamlet the other day. I forget that at the end of the play, Ophelia's gone, Laertes, Hamlet-- especially Ros and Guil do this to me. I just forget and then I remember.
Aaaand to-day we went and bought poinsettias for Christmas, and Waen got a little crunkly red one, and Mum got a peppermint-spotted one, and I got a giant, giant red one with huge red leaves.
And that is why I don't know exactly how I feel to-day, or how to say it.
