THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Closing night. Absolute disaster. In tears the whole program.
On a seperate note, it still kind of freaks me out to be in a theater where the people treat you well. You know, where you have people like Mr. B and Mr. Lang and Mr. Wheeler and Mr. O. who just help you when you ask and don't critisize you and joke around.
I think it's kind of like coming out of an abusive relationship and meeting someone who's genuinely good.
I'd kill myself if I went back to the way things were.
My mommy came back from SXSW with a shirt that said "Let's Overthrow the Government!" for me.
I've felt really funny all day.
Los Angeles doesn't feel like home to me right now. I want to be back in the Lake District and out there. I feel like there's some part of me there that I can't find anywhere else. I don't know anything about any of my family there.
I looked into applying to Oxford today. With extreme trepidation, but I get it cheap because I'm a citizen.
I also read two books today. One about Elizabeth I. and another about Eleanor of Aquitaine.
The winds have been blowing in historical notes lately...
But San Francisco still holds all of it's old promises. I hear it in everything. Oppurtunity is in one place and identity is in another- and my perception of both are just fragmented bits of childhood recollection.
I barely know where I'm going right now. And I think it's okay.
New Coldplay album is a new stone to cast at an old self...
Oh, and I signed up for drawing and painting for next year...