Happy Sunburn Season!

Summer is officially here, as is the season that brought about the namesake of this blog. I have several small sunburns across my back from sunscreen failing to do that UV blocking thing it claims to do. Cheers.

I'm reading one of the greatest books I've ever laid my hands on. Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. It's terrifyingly daunting, but I have never been gripped by a story like this before. Dagny Taggart speaks to my soul. Have a taste - no, not even a taste, two quotes cannot begin to describe what this book is - have a thought or two from this marvel.

"Well, I've always been unpopular in school and it didn't bother me, but now I've discovered the reason. It's an impossible kind of reason. They dislike me, not because I do things badly, but because I do them well. They dislike me because I've always had the best grades in class. I don't even have to study. I always get A's. Do you suppose I should try to get D's and become the most popular girl in school?"
Francisco stopped, looked at her and slapped her face.
__

She could not descend to an existance where her brain would explode under the pressure of forcing herself not to outdistance incompetence. She could not function to the rule of: keep down - slow down - don't do your best, it is not wanted!


My laptop received a new battery via eBay, and it works wonderfully. However, the problem now is that the charger cable remains dead and useless, so this newly functioning laptop cannot be used for fear of draining the battery to dead again. So here I am, making my bi-weekly check of the internet on the upstairs desktop. It's a strange and interesting world without the web. I kind of like it. I also kind of don't.

Work started last week - 8 hours of easy kitchen work in 90 degree weather four days a week is superfun (read: fml), but it pays well for what it is and I'm getting a paycheck on Friday. Money is necessary to this NYU adventure I'm attempting to go on.

And I wanted to share something that was shared with me via email, from the wonderful, incredibly enchanting woman who is my grandmother (and also a reader of this blog). She sends me incredibly inspirational photos and poems and sayings every so often, and I love all of them, but this one seems to play directly into the nature of this blog, so here it is. Life While You Wait.

Life While-You-Wait.

Performance without rehearsal.

Body without alterations.

Head without premeditation.
I know nothing of the role I play.

I only know it's mine. I can't exchange it.
I have to guess on the spot

just what this play's all about.
Ill-prepared for the privilege of living,

I can barely keep up with the pace that the action demands.

I improvise, although I loathe improvisation.

I trip at every step over my own ignorance.

I can't conceal my hayseed manners.

My instincts are for happy histrionics.

Stage fright makes excuses for me, which humiliate me more.

Extenuating circumstances strike me as cruel.
Words and impulses you can't take back,

stars you'll never get counted,

your character like a raincoat you button on the run,

the pitiful results of all this unexpectedness.
If only I could just rehearse one Wednesday in advance,

or repeat a single Thursday that has passed!

But here comes Friday with a script I haven't seen.

Is it fair, I ask

(my voice a little hoarse,

since I couldn't even clear my throat offstage).
You'd be wrong to think that it's just a slapdash quiz

taken in makeshift accommodations. Oh no.

I'm standing on the set and I see how strong it is.

The props are surprisingly precise.

The machine rotating the stage has been around even longer.

The farthest galaxies have been turned on.

Oh no, there's no question, this must be the premiere.

And whatever I do

will become forever what I've done.

~ Wislawa Szymborska ~