Our washing machine's name is Margarita. She's a contraption that is circa 1990 and likes to run for three hours at a time. She laughs at me as she leaves my clothes sopping wet, sputters at me when I twist the dial to try and get her to start, and she likes to lock my clothes inside so I can't get them out. Margarita is a bitch.
We came back from London yesterday. I'm utterly depressed. We were spoiled by the weather in that there was nothing but sun and warmth. A luxury that we Glaswegians rarely get. Many of us did not pack for the heat and suffered through it gladly as we sweat out our autumn clothes.
We were needed very few hours at the theatre so most of the time I spent was out exploring. I walked at least five miles a day, going to the Tate Britain museum, Harrods and Harvey Nichols, and Baker Street. I tried to soak in as much London as I possibly could.
The shows themselves went quite well. I've been having some knee problems with all the walking on hard pavement and the hotel bed was not the most supportive thing so my body feels a bit like it's been beaten up by Margarita, but I spend most of the show on a table anyway so it hasn't conflicted with the performance.
Our last night was spent at the Globe watching Richard III. It was by far some of the best Shakespeare I've ever seen. Mark Rylance is incredible and charming and makes you feel so conflicted in your hatred/love for Richard. It was traditional casting so even the women were played by men. I didn't much care for Anne, but Elizabeth...Samuel Barnett was....there are no words. He truly held his own with Rylance and was powerful and delicate and lovely and regal and feminine...just amazing. By the jig in the end, KS and I had tears streaming down our faces. That space, those people, the crowd that plays along with you, it is something that I will never forget and am so happy to have been part of.
Sometimes things like that make me a bit weepy. Sometimes it puts things in perspective. That night, it did both.
I'm having a bit of a hard time right now. Unpredictable to say the least. I am very ready to finish school. I finished all three of my term papers today, almost two weeks early, just so I never have to write another essay again. But...now what? I'm at a loss as to how to keep my emotions together.
On the train back to Glasgow I found myself doing the "oozing" cry. You know. The one where your face operates separately from your tears. You go about your business but your eyes keep spilling over. It's annoying. I do not like not having control of...well...everything. And I do not like drawing that kind of attention.
I find that I do not want to cry. I do not want to talk about how much I will miss this and that and whomever. I find I actually get extremely peevish when someone gets overly emotional and touchy. I don't know why I react that way. Maybe it's because it makes the problems bigger and I already feel awful about leaving. Will I miss people? Absolutely. Do I LOVE living in the UK? Yes, I do.
But I do not see why that means I have to sit in that emotional puddle until my fingers get all pruny.
Perspective.
If I want to come back to the UK, I will have to work very hard. ...so I will.
If I want to see these people again, I will.
If I want to get the career I want, I will go to NYC.
And I am looking forward to visiting my cousins in Phoenix, having a mani/pedi with my mom, watching Jeopardy with my dad, seeing my niece and nephew open Christmas presents, giving my brother a hug, and bloody well making my own damn money. So not all in the future is bad.
I do not want to talk about what I am doing next, finding agents, why I am not married, how I feel about leaving Scotland, how I am disappointed in the RCS, or anything else that will needlessly stress me out. Perspective.
Will I be a hot mess when I have to get on that plane? Yes.
So I do not need anything else making it any harder.
So I am simplifying my life for the next two and a half weeks. If I want to do something, I'll do it. If I don't, I won't. If I want to see or talk to someone, I will. If I don't, I won't. If I want to cry, I will. If I want quiet, I'll have it. Because if I lose perspective, the cracks will become massive canyons, and oozing tears will become the ugly cry. And I'm just not in the mood for that. I'd rather focus on my last two shows, my trip to Ireland, and just hanging around. Why waste time whining and falling apart? I don't want to fall apart.
and If I don't...I won't.
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