Paul (pauliver) wrote,
Paul
pauliver

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Ecstatic Story, Apocolyptic Footnote

I woke up from a dream today and looked up to see it was 10:30 in the morning. I tossed and turned and tried to pull myself back into my ritual Saturday morning coma, but nothing worked. My brain hazily traced back through my dream, back through flopping down on my bed at 2:30 last night, back through peacefully coasting home on empty roads, back through staring up at the stars in Andrew's backyard, heckling Kevin's ping pong playing, and sissying myself up to become Prince Humperdink. My stomach panged with unfamiliar neglect, forgotten last night among so many other things, and rumbled for Cheerios. Tinges of nervousness triggered in my gut as unspoken anxieties bumped against each other, trying to sort themselves out. I was not falling back asleep.

I can't remember this happening in years. Even when I try and wake myself up at eleven on a Saturday morning, I end up sleeping in an hour and a half later. Yet with only eight or so hours of sleep, I feel better than I do on most weekend mornings. Maybe it's the comfort from starting my day alone in a quiet house. I've been so contented and fulfilled since the play opened, yet until this morning it's only been enjoyed within the insanity of school days, late nights, and early mornings. Which isn't to say I haven't wholly loved spending every minute with the cast, but a few hours to myself felt great. It's not just been me on this cloud. I hear the same deep happiness in the voices and see it in the faces of everyone involved in the The Princess Bride. Well, except the freshman lead technician Stephen. I mostly just see fear in his face. I'm guessing the fact that Joey dances up against him at the beginning of each show when the video game music plays isn't helping that.

Allow I can't say for certain the audience has experienced such euphoria from just watching the play, I'm at least getting the impression they're having a good time. If you still want to see it, we've still got shows at 7:30 tonight, on Wednesday at 4, from Thursday to Saturday (the 11th to the 13th) and a Sunday matinee at 2 on the 14th. Tickets are $10 and available at the Jesuit switchboard or through me if you pull the right strings. Come see it.

Back to last Tuesday, all of us were busy at practice as the leader of the free world was decided. I entered the theater living in a greatly divided nation of uncertainty and exited living in a greatly divided nation of whining and gloating. I spent all this time watching polls, reading articles, having arguments, and voting that morning, and bam, it was over. The presidential election that was the beginning of the "Great Liberation" or the "Apocalypse" (depending on who writes history) will end up being a footnote in my own personal history of spending long days at play practice, neglecting school, and loitering in the parking lot. Bush and Kerry will be a sidebar to a page about me saucily serenading Hal and Kelley on the hood of Hal's Subaru to Nine Inch Nail's "Closer" as it circled around the back of Jesuit. And there's something greatly comforting about that. Or at least something consolatory.

What is written in the next chapters of my history still remains completely unclear. All I know is I want to feel like I do now and eventually go to college. The details are unimportant. There is one storyline I wouldn't mind adding depth to, and yet in some ways I'm glad I don't know its outcome. Life can always use a few surprises to spice things up. And maybe in a shocking twist I'll actually continue to keep you all updated.
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