I’m in the last week of my twenties. It’s been an interesting decade, lots of ups and downs and life experiences. There was a generous learning curve. Interestingly, I’m ending it as I began it, in school. I don’t know that I have much to say about leaving my twenties behind and turning thirty. I’m ready for it. As I said the other night, I’m more for jumping off the cliff than being pushed. And turning thirty doesn’t really seem like much of a cliff.
So, what have I been up to?
The writing is starting to come to a head, necessarily. I have no choice but to begin revising because the deadline looms. I began rereading and making notes yesterday and I think that I have a solid foundation in some of it. Not yet as artful as I would like, nor does it flow as well as it should, but it is a solid platform with which to begin. I’m going to head out soon and start plowing through some rewriting (I may actually start a new document and retype it all, we’ll see).
Saturday a show closed. It was a short but good run and all of the crowds were very responsive to it. By now all the artists have left. Saturday night, however, as B and I were leaving the poets were still gathered by the stage door. The question that hung in the air first was, where is a nice restaurant where we can get a good mean-a fancier meal, than what is nearby? Not knowing the eateries in the area nearly well enough I was trying to remember what has closed and opened in the last year. The sound board op emerged and said that the AD recommended a place called Bali. The question then changed to, so you two are coming, right? So we walked up Nicollet to Bali, chatting with the poets and enjoying the gorgeous November evening. We arrived on the doorstep of a darkened building that looked not only closed, but closed for good. We continued walking Nicollet, venturing into downtown, looking for a place that would satisfy a two-thirds majority. Thai seemed out of the question, so that eliminated Egg & I, and Kyle wasn’t fond of Ichiban, so that was out as well. Taxxi was closed for some reason or another, the doormen never said, but they recommended Newsroom just a little further along. We continued walking, our conversation carrying us, past the Dakota (looking through the window as we passed I saw the past walk by, old roommate, newly married, working–we haven’t spoken in years now). Newsroom didn’t satisfy the two-thirds vote, so we continued on to Hell’s Kitchen. They went in search of a table for eight and told us that they were only serving their late night menu, so we bailed. Next door however was The Melting Pot. Kyle was the only one who’d ever eaten there, a while before, in Philly. They were open until 2 and they sat until 11, (it was now 10:45) and their full menu was available. So we entered. We had a four course meal for eight: salad, cheese, entrees, and gooey gorgeous chocolate dessert. A beautiful evening with beautiful conversation. We were there until the TCF clock tower across the street said 2:30. Kyle put down his card and wouldn’t let anyone else near the bill, flipping the violinist’s card back at him. And then we walked back to the theatre, the streets mostly deserted and the air a little more chill. Conversation there and back again varied; they had some wordplay that was interwoven into the conversation. Kyle is nearing his big 3-0 as well (his is in March) and he asked me if I was ready. I didn’t need to give it much thought, I said that it wasn’t like I had much choice in the matter, but I was. Ready. I prefer to jump off the cliff, I said, instead of getting pushed. It’s too bad that the last evening was the most time that I spent with the guys (though, we did chat some at a Halloween party) but that’s the way it is sometimes. The theatre isn’t the main hub of my life anymore, I’ve been forced (by choice) to split my focus between that place and grad school. More people, more activities, more opportunities, but not more time. I need to choose more. There are great things that I am open to now and some great things that I miss out on. But such is life.
So now, I’m rewriting. I’m also thinking about what I’ll do Friday night when I’m done with the show to celebrate my birthday, as some of my friends say, my born-on day. I turned 13 on Friday the 13th and now I get to turn 30 on the same day. It’s nice. Some of my friends are local and can share the day with me if their lives and schedules allow, some are not and I miss them. As far as special, I’m not one for planning big events, especially for me. I planned a party a couple of years ago and that turned out pretty well. This year I think I’m just going to choose a place and tell people that I will be there and if they want to come they can. That sounds about right.
Now: off to shower. Been lounging, and working, in the clothes I’ve slept in for a while now and it’s time to get so fresh and so clean clean. Then off to get some food. And some coffee. And some more work done. “Days off” are just a suggestion, remember. As the Boss says: “so this is growing up.”
More later …