Running Away

I've expressed my overwhelming desire to run away to all of my nearest and dearest in the last few weeks. I have this staggering feeling that life would be much better if I would just disappear, stop worrying about whatever my problems are here in the city and escape for awhile. This desire is partially fueled by the fact that I just can't seem to get a handle on the mess that has become my life anymore. It is partially fueled by a film I saw last week, Into the Wild, which I believe is being released this friday. Please go see it. It is beautifully directed by Sean Penn, acted by Emile Hirsch, and sung by Eddie Vedder. I highly recommend it. During the q&a after the film, Sean Penn, while speaking about the journey of the main character said, "in our culture, rites of passage are seen as a luxury. They're not. They're a neccesity."

I couldn't agree more. I don't feel that I have lost out on that experience in my life. On the contrary, I feel like I have done it several times, and at the culmination of each experience, I have emerged a more complete human being. These events occur, sometimes in solitude, sometimes in connection with others, but ultimately bring me to a new level of understanding. I feel that I just completed one, in fact. It wasn't neccesarily a triumphant completion, but I do feel that I have just learned something new about myself and the world - something that I could only have learned through trial and error, love, hate, joy, happiness, pain and loss. These are all critical elements. The bad makes the good better, and all that sort of thing.

So, I'm off on a new soul-search. It seems physically running away from my life in New York isn't truly an option. Financially, it is completely infeasable. It would also result in the abandonment of several relationships and endeavors that I don't feel I can or should walk away from just yet. So, I've decided on a different course of action. I'm taking up running. I've run before, yes, but this seems like a more spiritual decision than my past "I feel fat, I guess I'll go running" state of mind.

I have decided that I really like the idea of training for a marathon. I haven't the slightest idea how to begin this plan. I've never been a serious runner, in fact I used to absolutely HATE running. I don't come from a family of runners, I come from a family of smokers. I don't have the best knee or hip joints, due to my dancer's upbringing. I used to be rather big and fat, owing to my lack of experience in this field. However, now I am small and thin, and feel such a difference in my stamina and ability. I can easily (ok, not TOO easily), run the track at the Onasis Reservoir (1.58 miles) without stopping or walking. I know that doesn't sound like much to a "real" runner, but it's a big deal for me. I get around that track in about 15 minutes, although, I've yet to aquire the acoutrements to really time myself. I suppose that will be one of the next steps. I actually enjoy this running. I feel like I'm getting away from something I don't like in my life, I feel like I'm releasing good energy into the world, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

So this is my plan, my next rite of passage. The New York Marathon is in early November of each year. I don't for a moment delude myself into thinking that I could run this year's marathon. However, I would really like to train for a year and shoot for running in the 2008 race. Is this too steep a goal for me to achieve? I think not. I mean, I've managed to achieve some pretty remarkable things in my life, just because I told myself I would.

So that is the goal. Running away from this feeling of unhappiness, of a loss of direction. Running. Just running. Probably needing a great deal of help along the way, but that's true of every rite of passage. And who knows, when it's all over and done, perhaps I will have learned something very valuable. Might as well start now. I'm certainly not getting any younger.

"Baby this town rips the bones from your back
Its a death trap, its a suicide rap
We gotta get out while were young
`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run"

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

It feels like my world has fallen down around me. It all happened in a matter of about 48 hours, a little over a week ago, and I am having the worst time ever of trying to pick myself up and move on. I know that everyone feels this way sometimes. I've been watching friends and family go through it a lot recently. I just somehow thought that I was immune to it. I thought that for some reason, all the good things I'd been feeling and experiencing lately were impervious to such a fall. I put my faith and my trust into the people that I love, because that is the kind of creature I am. A stupid creature, apparently. A creature who has now given completely of herself, only to end up empty, with nothing left to give, and nothing to build myself back up.

And I thought this part was over. It all feels like some kind of demented child's game. Chutes and ladders for the grown-ups. Ring-around-the-rosy. Hide-and-seek. Only the rules are different, and no one is the winner. Everyone goes home hurt and crying and alone. Hearts and bones and spirits get broken. There is only enough energy to sleep and to cry. There is no resolution, only the half-hope, half-fear that the cycle will come around to good again, but that next time it will stay that way.

And most frustrating of all, is the realization that I might never be worth it. All that I am might never be enough to fight for. And that, dear friends, is the most heartbreaking feeling of all.

Charmed the pants off those canadians

No, really. Let's be honest, whadd'ya think I was going up there for?

It was a wonderful trip, and we had a great time. With the exception of the excruciatingly long train rides both ways, it was an overwhelmingly pleasant experience. I met the friends and family, saw the city, got to do a little Hair shopping, drank good beer, somehow managed to swing from extremes of middle-aged couple to high-school couple, and - most importantly - got to spend some much needed q.t. with the boy.

It was wonderful. I can't wait until he's back home in this city. Just a few more days!!!!

Oh, and everyone with a pulse MUST see La Vie En Rose. Probably the most incredible performace I have ever beheld. Absolutely stunning.

A couple of highlighted moments from the trip -
1. While sitting in front of a coffee shop in Kensington Market, hiding out from the rain, and very deep in meaningful conversation, a grandfatherly man passes the fruit stand across the street, and lets out the singlemost audible fart I have ever heard. I mean, it damn near propelled him to the end of the block. It was like something out of a movie, and we have decided that it most definitely will be something IN a movie.
2. At same location, a very jolly rasta-man sits down on the bench next to ours, a woman with whom he seems to be vaguely aquainted walks by. The following conversation ensues.
Rastaman: "Hey, haven't seen you in forever!"
Woman: "Wow, yeah its been awhile.
Rastaman: "Where's your dog?"
Woman: "It's dead."
Rastaman: *awkward silence*
The Boy and I: *eyes watering as we try not to laugh*


My God, life is good. Unless of course, you're that woman's deceased pet. In which case, life is probably not good.

Where the hell is my teleporter?

In a mere three hours, I will be up and-at-'em, getting myself out the door and down to penn station so that I can venture to...

THE GREAT WHITE NORTH!!!

That's right, folks. This Arkansas girl is going to show those Canadians what she's made of. (Which, for the record, is 100% pure grain awesome.)

You may be asking yourself how this exciting turn of events came to be. Well, it's quite simple really. Upon wrapping his film down in the Big Easy, I was awakened by a call from the boy, relieved to be finished but proud of what he'd accomplished, and with a one-track mind when it came to what the next course of action would be. That track seems to have entailed the repeating sentence "MUST SEE LAURA IMMEDIATELY," because that's what he proposed we do. So, arrangements were made, strings were pulled, trains were booked, and the next thing you know, I'm off to Toronto in the morning.

This trip seems to be serving several purposes. First, to combat the insanity we were both driving towards not having seen eachother in over a month. Second, and most nervewracking of all, for me to make the aquaintance of his parents. Third, to meet the hometown friends. Fourth, to see what this Canada thing is all about. I expect we'll be eating a lot of maple syrup, whilst being pulled over by a mountie, on our way to hockey practice, to prepare for our match against the niagra ninjas, all the while ending our sentences with, "eh?".

All joking aside, I couldn't be happier about how well life and love are going right now. The twelve hours on the train are going to be torturous, when all I want to do is see him and only him for quite awhile. It sounds like he's got a rather full schedule booked for me, and it all sounds very sweet. More and more I'm seeing sides of him that I didn't know existed. The side that wants to show me off to his friends, the side that wants to take me to see my favorite play at the Shaw festival, the side that has called me every single night to tell me how much he wished I was already there.

I'm so tired, and still pretty stoned from rehearsal. Alarm goes off in a couple of hours, whereupon I will do my last minute packing, shower, and hop in a taxi - tylenol pm in hand - hoping to snooze for most of the ride.

Expect a full update when I return on Wednesday or Thursday - assuming of course, that I make it the full duration.

I'm so damn happy, I can hardly stand it...

If only I could teleport.

Hair Extension

HAIR is back! We will be performing at Theatre Row, the Acorn Theatre! More info on ticket sales to come.

Hope you can make it. Check out www.realtheatrecompany.com for details...

oh, and by the way, i have no idea why the color on this thing gets all persnickety when i post a flyer like that. it's supposed to be yellow and red. same thing happened with the original hair postcard, back in june. i don't get it...

Insomnia

I can't fucking sleep. It's a problem.

It is 6:04 am and I have been desperately trying to fall asleep since 1:00 am. No dice.

I'm not consuming caffeine. I don't know what's causing this, but it sucks some serious ass.

No really, I want to beat someone severely right now, but I have nobody to blame. I think my over-active mind is keeping me awake. This will be the third night in a row that once I've reached the hour of sunrise, I've gotten out of bed and popped a bunch of sleep-inducing OTC pills. Tonight it's tylenol pm. I mean today. This morning. Fuck.

So much for my planned trip to the gym at eight. That's in two hours. Sonofabitch.

If you've got any remedies, I'd love to hear them.

The Recovery

Recovering from this whole fainting spell ordeal has resulted in a nasty case of cabin fever, one which I hope to remedy later today. I have not left my apartment except to return to the hospital since monday. With the exception of the boy's 16 hour visit, perhaps the most wonderful 16 hours that I've ever spent with anyone, the rest of the week has been wholly un-stimulating.

I'll hit the high points.

I still can't fully believe that he flew up here to see me. As soon as I opened my door I could see why he had. The look of distress and concern on his face was instantly apparent, and as he scooped me up into his arms, kissing the top of my head with tears in his eyes, I understood why he felt he had to be here. He was scared. A smile spread across my face as I started to cry. All I could say was "Thank You." He pushed my hair back to reveal the bruises and cut on my forehead, and tilted my chin upward to investigate the five stitches holding it together. His eyes welled and he pulled me towards him, delicately kissing the bruises and holding me close to him.

"I guess I look like hell, huh?"

"No. You're beautiful."

My god, I love this man. I do. What he has become is a complete amazement to me. Our history has been difficult and frustrating, but if that is what we had to go through to get here, then I wouldn't change a single thing about it. I have never felt so very happy, so at ease, in my entire life. I can't wait for the day when we are finally both back in the same city. I know that the time and distance between us has been exceptionally important, but I also ache to be near him. I feel like I carry him with me all day. He is the smile that I can't suppress. Even more exciting is that I know that he feels the same way. I don't wonder if he loves me anymore, because he tells me he loves me, and he shows me that he loves me, and he looks at me as though he loves me, and he holds me like he loves me. It's incredible. That look of guilt that used to overtake him in quiet moments, and that detached silence that he would adopt on the bus in the morning, have been replaced with a genuine smile, with gazing at me in wonder. He tells me "I think I'm learning how to be happy." I think he is.

The duration of his visit was wonderful and relaxing, and even though I woke up fifteen minutes before his 6:00 am alarm and woke him up whimpering "you're leaving. I don't want you to go," he always handled me with utmost love and care. He soothed me back to calm, "it's ok. We'll see eachother again soon."

I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

And, as I said, I did spend the rest of the week taking it easy, catching up on tv and movies, reading a few books, and just letting the whole ordeal work it's way out of my system.

Yesterday I returned to the hospital, followed up in the outpatient clinic and headed back to the ER, this time the express care unit, to have the stitches removed. I am left with a diagnosis of Vasovagal Syncope, which is nothing too terribly serious. At least I'll know what's going on if it happens again. I won't go into the details. Google it if you're that interested. I am also left with what is certainly going to be a scar on my chin. I hope the swelling that still remains subsides in a few days. The other injuries are minor. The bruises on my forhead and slight black eyes are pretty much gone. The heroin-addict track marks left by the two IV's are beginning to fade, and the soreness in my left tricep from the tetanus shot is mostly gone. I'm on the mend, and ready to rejoin the human race, perhaps even contribute to society.

Last night around 2 am I recieved a call from an unknown number. It turned out to be him, covertly calling me from the film's "in case of emergencies" cell phone which is left at "The Compound" - a very large and secluded piece of plantation property where his film is shooting. I don't know how, but he somehow managed to convince them that he needed to be ALONE on the compound for a couple of days as he prepares for this role. So there he is, in the middle of nowhere, Louisiana, with free run of an entire plantation, and a moderately functional cell phone. The thing kept cutting us off, but I know how it is to be in a part of the south where reception is spotty at best. You just have to fit everything into as little time as possible. I have such admiration for the way that he works and prepares for a role, and I can't wait to have the oppurtunity to work with him as an artist. When I told him this last night he said "oh, we will. There's no question. We have to." And we do. He tells me that the big empty place is creepy at night, but that he's enjoying it. He tells me that he misses me and loves me, as I do him, and we agree to talk more when he returns to civilization and reliable reception.

And I go to sleep feeling very, very happy.