I Guess I'll Drown in My Own Tears

today i learned that "real" people:

a. don't cry on the 6 train

b. look at you like you're crazy if you do.

unfortunately, having been repeatedly kicked in the heart/pride/hope departments for the better part of a year now has left me unable to fight the rising lump in my throat and welling of eyes while on mass transit. i find that it is highly unadvisable to weep in the workplace (now that the workplace is not the theatre, where i can safely weep away), and therefore have trained myself to hold it back. i just can't quite make it all the way home.

yesterday, as i fitted a very happy bride into her beautiful gown, her flower girl looked up at me and asked, "are you married?" i laughed bitterly, and replied "nope, not even close." i thought i had evaded further probing. i thought wrong. as the child began to ask me more and more questions about my romantic life (HAH!), i felt myself turning ten shades of red and wanting to scream. how do you explain to a six year old that you're pretty sure you're going to be alone forever? "listen kid, i'm apparently not worth the effort. let me give you a little advice - never let your guard down." i figured this wouldn't go over well, so i made a hasty exit, lest i drip mascara on a spanish silk gown.

this morning, we had a bridal client who was in her late 40's or early 50's. i don't know if it was her first wedding or not, but it depressed the shit out of me. she kept saying that she wanted to bring her mother back to see her favorites. her mother is in her nineties. i don't want my mother to be in her nineties when i get married. i mean, my parents are smokers. at the rate i'm going, who's to say they'll make it to my nuptuals.

i don't know y'all. i'm pretty sure the pursuit of happiness isn't supposed to be this...i don't know...sad.

i'm also pretty sure that i kick ass. thus my confusion.

all is not lost - i am keeping up with the marathon training. it will be a year from last sunday, if i make it to the goal. although, it will be diffcult to qualify for next year, it seems that 2009 is a better bet. baby steps. i'm beginning to realize that there is much that i have to learn. i also find myself in need of "stuff" to actually get this going. like, a smaller ipod (a shuffle would be ideal), a new pair of running shoes (mine are broken down, and no doubt contributing to the pain in my joints), appropriate cold-weather running attire, and ideally, a trainer. who am i kidding? i don't know what the fuck i'm doing, and even though i'm reading up on the subject, i'm one hundred percent sure that i'm not eating enough or doing the correct cross-training. but i'm not sure what to eat or do otherwise. maybe i should jog down to the barnes and noble and try to figure this shit out. i'd love a running buddy. one that will not judge me for my sorry state. it's not that sorry. i actually do pretty well on the treadmill. outdoors is harder, but more fulfilling.

i think i might (fingers crossed) get to go home for christmas. i'm trying to stretch that possibility out for as long of a visit as is humanly possible.

i need to nurture my craft. my job is sucking the artist's soul out of me. i need to be writing. i need to be singing. i need to be dancing. and i need - repeat - NEED to be acting. i feel like a shell.

i miss my partner in crime, away on her texan jew-truck adventure. i miss my friends in the city, whom i never see anymore. i miss the boy, although the prodigal did make a return on tuesday night. it seems to have only been a momentary lapse. while i see that he is gaining some clarity about the relationships in his life and the way that he treats those who care about him (which is good), i don't see that he's pulling his head out of his ass about the prospect of losing me (which is bad). i'm having one of those major head/heart battles about it at the moment. all of this contributes to the subterranean crying spells.

balls.