The Visitor

And just who is "The Girl with No Name?" he asks, tilting his head to the left.
"Well, she is the one who remembers and tells the story of 'Peach and Plum.'
He is clearly thinking about something; a specific question, but for some reason, he doesn't ask. Instead, he takes off his coat.
"You have heard the story of 'Peach and Plum,' haven't you?" she asks.
He smiles. "You know that I haven't. The story isn't written down yet, right?"
She smiles shyly. "Yes, that's true."


Later on that night, after he's left, she sits down at her desk with a mug of chocolate peppermint flavored coffee, sent from the other side of the world.


"If I don't write this down, who will?" she types.

my truth

Why is everything so simple in new york? You may be flat broke, about to be kicked out of your apartment onto the street, But everything is simple. Simple!


Maybe I’m longing for that, to be reduced to what I am at the core, a girl who likes theater and writing, no strings attached. No need for money (or approval for that matter.) Who said that theater people are workaholics? Crazy, well, that’s a given.
Right now is one of those times.

Theater People: From another planet?

Sept. 20, 2010


Hanging out with theater people may actually benefit your health.


Those in the theater industry, whether it may be acting, directing, or building sets out of clay may be good for the spirit, a new study finds.


Dr. Kira Kira of Massachusetts' hailed "Family College" has this to say on the matter:


"You see, theater people are not well, NORMAL in the normal sense of the word. Do they have a different DNA pattern? No, I don't think so. Can they function as normal citizens in the world? Yes; however, that IS highly debatable. The main point that I want to stress here, is that conversationally, the average person on the street might find the theater person highly inscrutable. Why on earth would the words "dry ice" come up 50 times during the course of a night? Being exposed to such odd behavior patterns may change the patterns of brain waves, leading to bigger changes in lifestyle and behavior."


The study has found to be far reaching across many continents. Japan, especially, having many theater graduates from obscure universities, ranks high on the list of "healthy countries."

Hey World, Here I AM

That's what this blog is all about, isn't it?


rephrase:


Isn't that what any blog is about?


The lid on the pressure cooker spit steam, almost angrily. She thinks, good to be home, and a sense of continuity in life. Just keep going.
Maybe no one may ever read what you have to write, but write anyway!

food for thought

She's sitting in the kitchen waiting for the panisses to cool so she can fry them in olive oil. Yes, she does like fried food, but frying fresh French panisses in a cozy kitchen in a healthy oil can't be all that bad. Cooking is what she does when she needs to think about things. The only way to really think is to get your hands in a big bowl of flour. Kneading away the needs of the day, she's able to reflect and get her hands dirty at the same time. It's a little like when I used to play in the sandbox when I was little, she thinks to herself. So many developments recently, but nothing showing big on the radar. All that's new is forming in her mind like a newborn baby. Not a bad metaphor in light of recent events. Happiness is in the eye of the one who can see it, feel it, and touch the moment for oneself. Back to basics. It always comes down to that, in a way. Boil it down until what's left is only the "good stuff."

a sign

Drinking coffee at her desk, she thinks and types. She just found a book which confirms that all of the ideas that she had about learning to spend time by herself and that her inner thoughts were important after all. Who knew? Surely not this world filled with technology, preparing for the future, always put your best face on.

Who knew that enjoying to learn spending time by yourself was the best lesson that you could possibly learn?

Trying to apply this lesson to the everyday will be difficult, she thinks, but it's definitely better than the alternative.

You can't always get what you want. . .

But if you try sometimes. . .

she thinks, type type typing again in the same day

it was a rough day
overall, that is.
The type of day where one discovers that no matter how hard you try,
Sometimes
Your best is not enough.

Enough for who though really?

The battles we fight, of all of the battles we fight, the toughest battle is the one we fight with ourselves.

Strange dream of a large house. . .

She just finished her morning cup sitting at the kitchen table and listening to the songs of a Japanese beat poet.
"What was I going to do?" she thinks, "Oh yes, the dream I had last night."
She sits at the computer. tap tap tap.

"Last night,"
she writes,
"I dreamnt that I was part of a cast filming a movie. In the dream, there were two movies being filmed and I was in one of the movies. The entire cast was staying at a large-ish house. It was an odd house because the actors in the cast had just sort of found it, and since no one was living there, they decided to move in. A couple of cats had been seen in one of the rooms, but no people.
We had all been living in the house for maybe a week----a room with a large jacuzzi like bath had been discovered, and there were several rooms upstairs which remained a mystery as everyone was staying downstairs. I'd made friends with a couple of guys and I had found something strange in one of the rooms upstairs that I wanted to show them. I took my friend up to the room. There was a bed with some pillows and a couple of odd knicknacks around but basically that was it. But, as soon as my friend came in the room, he felt the same thing I did: a presence or a ghost in the room. It was like something being perfectly clear, a fact, the only thing was that it was invisible."

She thinks for a second. The ghost or spirit was what affected me most in the dream, she thinks.

back home again

She sits once again in the comfortable chair in front of her computer. click click click. She was out in the wilderness for nearly a month with giant bullfrogs, new friends on bicycles, and all kinds of different faces, some old, some new. This year was a "re-evaluation" year, she muses. Recently, maybe she's been too complacent in her little world that she made for herself. All dreams that she thought would make her happy have come to fruition, but that element of surprise and romance disappeared completely. She had to travel to a small island, put her luggage on a boat, and have the safety ticket taken away completely to once again experience a feeling that she can only describe as solitude.

Solitude, the beginning of a new journey, a trip to outer space.

bon to bon to bon to

Listening to one of her favorite songs, she reflects. The waiting time is always the time to discover something new. A too well planned life never bodes well, or at least it never delivers what it promises. She finished writing the story of her life (or at least the most recent development in the large scheme of things) but now, having read it feels like it doesn't quite capture what happened in that moment of time. If only time could be captured, she thinks, it would be nothing short of shocking pink.

dancers and feelings

a turn of recent events.....new faces, new ideas. She sits typing at her computer wondering if what she's feeling is good or bad. Maybe best to not categorize it, she thinks, and best not to act on impulses, but rather savor the moment. That's what it's really all about, perhaps. The feeling of attraction is not a call to take action, but rather akin to a blessing.

crossroads

Drinking coffee at home isn't so bad she thinks, sipping her usual milky latte out of her favorite cup. I don't have to worry about whether the barista is going to make my drink quite right, the way that I like it. Today, and for the last couple of days, she's felt a vague sense of disalluionment, finding out that the few things that she thought she had a wee bit of control over, she doesn't. Must I always try to play it safe? No. Not at all. But good to play it smart. Maybe things aren't headed in the direction that I think they are. In fact, maybe the best thing to do is to give up all control over what will happen in the future, let go of those reins that I'm holding so tightly, she thinks. Easier said than done naturally. What to do now? Go for what I know is Good, the capital G in it's proper place. Forget the other ambitions, wants, needs, desires. When it all rains down like houston in a miracle season, the G is what it's about.

Yaho!

Drinking wine without a hint of sweetness, she reflects on what a wonderful day it's been so far. Trite as it may appear to sound, she really has had an amazing day, based on a decision to do something different than usual, as well as the call of a sudden spring. A spring in the step from the change in the weather. Also, the tea man with the nice smile inviting her in. Sure he was advertising, that's probably his job, but she had a feeling that he just wanted a chance to talk to her. She went to the shrine in Yaho to see the plum blossoms the way that the royal family did in the past. Not fully open yet is the best season for hanami, she thinks. Still in their youth, buds abound, and are just as pretty as the flowers themselves. Small children, she thinks. Taking pictures and drawing, she plants herself under sprites of pink and white. Now there is no hesitation in her stance when she wants to draw or paint or write or just sit down and look around at the scenery. Why there was before, she knows not, but since it all happens for a reason, maybe she's learned something about doing things that she likes just because she likes to do them. Sounds simple, but apparently it's not.

a long time. . . but a thinking time

She sits at her computer, happy to be home but a little bit restless. Perhaps the best thing about the weekend was discovering a new author, writing in a style that seems completely unlike anything she'd ever put her teeth into.

"Perhaps all of the stories of our lives ARE tied together," she thinks.

Ironic that she found this author on the same day that she discovered that her story, her dream, was possibly all in her mind. It was a moment of truth, honestly, but on the other hand, she suspected it all along.

Secretly, this is what she wonders:

Is it better to keep alive a dream, a story in the mind, and moreso a fantasy stemming from what she really wants in life, or should she look at cold, hard facts, no matter what that means? She already knows what her answer is; it lies within her heart. She will keep believing, believing that what she felt and experienced was real, not a dream. Even if everything isn't true, perhaps parts of it are; those are the parts she wants to hold on to, cherish forever.

She just realized that maybe she'd forgotten an integral part of the story. A wide eyed child who wanted nothing more than someone to play with. That's all she wanted, too.