Most of the time.
O, Damien Rice! How you go with a rainy day! I suppose the weather in Ireland is often thus. There's something about the persistence of this rain of late that actually makes me uplifted, rather than downtrodden, which I take to be the typical reaction to such gray pitter and patter. Perhaps I'm enjoying the feeling of self-contained intimacy it produces just now. Or maybe it's just that it's a Friday.
Last night some friends came from (way) out of town to see Todd and I in the show, and it was great to have them there. They had to book it back to the sticks (read: Scranton), so it was mostly the cast for an after-show snack and drink. We returned to La Lanterna, which I dreaded (love the place, hate its popularity) but it was surprisingly vacant and we got a table with space around it, out in their sheltered garden. I was taking it easy after the night previous--when I had three friends I rarely see and dearly love to go out with and people got happy about treating others to libation (Mr. Schoffler, I'm looking in your direction)--and somehow was quite relaxed for the first time in such a post-ALotM scenario.
And it was commented upon. Not directly, mind you. Them what had something to say about it didn't really understand what they were seeing. Their comments were along the lines of, "You look different somehow, Jeff." "I really like that sweater." "Could you do me, right here and now?"
Okay, okay. I made that last one up. My point, however, is not to self-aggrandize. Well, only a little. The main thrust of my bragging is to say it helped me realize what a fool I've been. Not that I necessarily could have helped it. But still. My fellow castmates had no idea who I was under normal circumstances, because I never once relaxed around them in this whole process. Moreover, the two of them I worked with the year prior probably had very little idea either. My tension, self-conflict, whatever it is, isn't particular to this show. It's been around for quite a while. On the rare occasion when I can release myself from it, it makes me more relaxed and everyone around me generally happier.
So wherefore the persistence of this trait? Well, that may take a while for yours truly to truly figure out. I am reminded, however, of a comment left on this very 'blog (see 2/5/07) regarding my life-long admiration of a certain black-clad vigilante. I can't say I'll cease to worship angst-ridden comicbook characters with an unhealthy devotion, but maybe I could ease off on the inner-conflict quotient in my real life. Just a little.
Just as soon as it stops raining.
2 comments:
I too have been appreciating the rain lately, perhaps for just the reason you suggest. It has felt uplifting somehow. I often feel this way about it though, and have occasionally (only half-kidding) attributed it to my Irish blood. Living in London, Dublin, and Seattle definitely had some sort of effect...
It's hard, isn't it, to find that balance between working hard and letting go. So often I find out the benefit of the latter only after I've been white-knuckling some poor project to death, squeezing its little throat, and wondering why it's not moving. Wish I had some good advice for avoiding such behavior.
Irish blood coursing through your veins at least offers you some ready excuse for throttling urges. What do I have? The Germans? I mean, they're cruel enough, but passionate?
Calm down, ye Teutons. I heart Germans.
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