cold

yesterday, i headed out about town in search of vodka and tonic (along with "that wonderful stuff i like so much...what is it?...yes, listeriiiiiiiine.) my goal was also to find two sunhats for us because it was 80 and bright and unreal how sunny it was.

i found the vodka and the listerine, but no hats or tonic.

then today happened.

it's 43 right now and getting down into the 30s and raining, so i headed out in search of something warm to wear. i walked to the grocery about two blocks away and got loaded up on tonic and bloody mary mix (for me) and lots of soup.

the most interesting thing about this entire place so far is that everyone adores - insanely adores - my aunt liz. everyone working at the hotel, anyone volunteering with the theatre festival...everyone. we go down a hallway and people stop and take her hand and tell her how wonderful she is and how they missed her last year. every man calls her dearest or darling. and everyone compliments her on some film or play they just absolutely love. and i spend a great deal of time standing off to the side while people gush about her.

last night we went to a small production of the play 'bus stop.' it was pretty good and there were some nice performances, but it wasn't life-changing by any means. but after the production, aunt liz and i waited in the lobby for our friend to drive us back to the hotel and she spoke to some of the performers to tell them what she thougth of the show.

and then a beefy woman with long, fried orange hair and a bright green dress and purple shoes approached us. it turned out she was the director of the production. aunt liz told her it was a great show and she should be so proud, and this woman did what every theatre person does - she stepped back, jaw agape, hand to the chest and shook her head slowly, "oh, you have no idea what that means to me." then she shoved her arm in aunt liz's face for her to see her goosebumps.

this morning, over breakfast, aunt liz said how strange and ridiculous it is the way people approach her and she feels like she's part of some 'act' about who she is and "that director - whooh - honey, i tell you...she was anything but cool...come on lady - lighten up..."

it's getting a bit more routine, but still tiring. i got an email yesterday that i am late in turning in an essay for school. it isn't that much of a big deal, but i didn't think this assignment applied to me for some reason, and so i just counsciously overlooked it - but no, i have to do it. so, in my spare time, of which i have none, i'm going to finish reading this book that continues to make me cry hysterically, and then turn in a paper.

i'm glad i came. it's both wonderful to be with her, but shocking at how fragile she's become. even when i've seen her in the past few years, someone else has been there to make sure she has what she needs - and i'm there to visit. but this is different. i know she loves this place and this theatre festival. she loves william inge and anything that gives her a chance to talk and think about her days on the stage.

back and forth

on monday, i had my second interview to be the staff accountant at a technology company. the job sounds interesting and like i could actually get a lot out of it. i like the company and the people who interviewed me. and then i rushed from there to my last night taking pictures of dogs (utterly boring).

yesterday morning, right before my flight, i got an email back from a screenplay competition that my script, if i made some minor changes, would be a finalist. so my heart raced and i sat confused because i finally was ready to have a normal job and income and stop daydreaming about being a writer and all of that and cowboy just kept saying, "i knew it...this is awesome." and we both know that this will lead to my questioning everything i've chosen to do with my career once again.

but then i had to stop thinking about that because i had to catch a flight to spend the week with my wonderful great aunt liz.

firstly, i flew to charlotte and then sat on the tarmac for an hour while they "cleared up the emergency" at newark. when it cleared (whatever it was), we took off and my sister came in from manhattan and we had dinner at the tony romas in the airport. then my aunt liz arrived. we found her a wheelchair to take her around the airport and were dropped again at tony romas.

my sister ordered wine.

my aunt liz asked for soup. they only had baked potato soup, which my sister promised would be really good. aunt liz also ordered a vodka tonic. when the food arrived, my aunt liz said to my sister, "you're right. this is thick." and then for the rest of the day referred to it as "that craaaaazy soup."

we had bloody mary's on the flight and then mr. porter (our porter) picked us up in tulsa and drove us to kansas. he's a retired pharmacist with a personality to match and i had to fight to keep from passing out in the van.

we arrived late. and tired. and "a little high...but in a good way," as my aunt said.

we have separate rooms, but aunt liz asked me to stay with her last night since it was so late and it was a new place, and i agreed without much thought.

while i found an old steven spielberg film on television, she took her time in the ladies room and unpacked and an hour and a half later she finally laid down. she tossed and turned and i don't think either of us got more than four hours of sleep.

we're meeting some friends for a luncheon soon and then my task for the day is to find some vodka, but without asking for vodka "so people don't think ill of us." my aunt said it's better to ask for a place to buy wine and to find "those little things i like so much. laura - what are they?"

"werther's."

"that's right. laura...you know everything."

i just checked on her in her room and she asked me to open a window for her. i did and she said, "laura, is there nothing you can't do?"

worthy

i read the bios of the special guests of the theatre festival i'm going to with my great aunt. they are extremely intimidating and each has their broadway debut listed - either as an actor, writer, director, or designer.

this week could go either way, but as the optimistic narcissist, i predict the following shall occur:

i have a major meltdown that i'm not talented/passionate/dedicated enough as a writer and will never be more than a weekend writer who tries (and fails) to achieve anything with her work.

i cry.

i question everything in my life that has brought me to going back to a normal office job (and failing at that) and wonder if i shouldn't just try more as a writer.

i notice the ugly bedspread of the hotel room and feel it's a perfect description of my life's work.

i attempt to be casual around the special guests, while at the same time desperate for their approval.

i keep up drink for drink with my great aunt and become hysterically drunk and make a fool of myself.

i vomit publicly.

i burn bridges even before they're built.

i get nothing accomplished.

i embarrass my aunt liz and she regrets even making the trip.

inspiration

today, my time is spent uploading the photos i took at the dog/food truck/radio thing. at the event, taking photos and feeling like i knew what do to, i had the image of turning the pictures in and impressing the company so much that they hire me as their fulltime photographer and i find my new life's passion.

then i got home and looked at the photos and . . . i don't have to worry about that happening.

then last night i went out to support a friend of mine doing stand-up comedy and while watching the less humorous performers, i had the thought, "what if that's what i'm supposed to do with my life?" and then, as with roseanne and phyillis diller, i find success quickly because i'm such a natural.

i continued to perfect my stand-up routine to myself as i drink more and more bourbon.

after waking this morning, i do not think that's my life's ambition.

my plan for the day is to upload all these pictures (which is taking forever) and then head to the school library to print out the workbook for workshop. when i travel to kansas, i shall read whilst my great aunt rests/naps/sleeps.

maybe i'll find my life's passion in kansas . . .

it certainly is something...

the dog/picture/radio thing last night went okay. someone asked if i had a website showing my photography and i told them my being there was a complete fluke - it crossed my mind to be professional, but i really stopped caring what people thought of this company when they sent out information about the event with me as their main contact.

when i showed up, i saw a woman i used to work with at the radio stations. she helped set things up and we got a few moments to catch up.

-and then my sister called with a request.

my great aunt, a 92 year-old actress, travels every year to the william inge theatre festival. she worked with him a few times and this is something very special to her. she is old, though, and cannot fully be on her own, and was supposed to be accompanied by her home-health aid.

well, her home-health aid came down with a case of shingles (as often happens) and they thought of me.

- this was the information my sister told me as i stood in a parking lot, staring at food trucks and dogs, and the sounds of the radio cranked up on ginormous speakers and the interstate not fifty feet away.

i love my aunt, but it took me a bit to take it all in and finally decide that i would go.

here's the plan:

next tuesday, i fly up to newark to meet my great aunt liz, who will be driven there by her homosexual confidant bernie - who looks strikingly like george papadapolis - from connecticut. we will then fly together to oklahoma and take a car to somewhere in the wilds of kansas for this theatre festival.

i suspect the following will happen:
lots of drinking.

the last time i went up to connecticut to see her and my aunt mary, aunt liz informed me that she woke up every night at about two or three and in that time she did three things: she ate a few crackers, went to the "john," and drank a vodka tonic.

"do you ever wake up in the middle of the night, laura?"

"no . . . not usually."

"i do. almost every night. i'm not sure why - but something about that vodka tonic helps me go back to sleep . . . do you want one to keep by your bed just in case?"

"no - thank you, but i think i'll be okay."

nope

i had two interviews to work with a private park company here in town . . . and i just got a call that i didn't get the job.

sucks.

but, something usually pops up.

company contact

heading out to take pictures of dogs or dog food or something - i'm still not sure.

but i did get an email from the company that is hosting the event (or not) who put my name on all the paperwork as the "company contact."