The Last Year

Photo on 3-23-15 at 5.30 PM

It’s been a long time since I blogged here. First it was because I hated my old job, and then I had a new job, and then it was because I had a boyfriend, and then all things taken together it’s been almost exactly a year since I last posted here. I had a nearly year-long streak of weekly posts before that. Alas!

So, what happened in the interim? I continued volunteering at the theatre. Then I met a boy and dated for a bit and it went nowhere. Then I met a boy and dated for 10 months and was in love and then eventually it was awful and I broke up with him a month ago. I’m still stupendously sad about it, even if it was the right choice. I miss what could have been if both of us had been different people.

I stopped volunteering at the theatre very regularly, as it had served its purpose. I still go back every few months, just for a night, just to remind myself that I was able to do it once. I found a whole new group of friends, some of whom have stuck around and who I cherish fiercely. Several friends of mine moved back from abroad. I met new people who might one day become friends. I dyed my hair green on the bottom. I became weirdly active on Twitter.

I finished the class series at my home theatre, and started a class series at a new one. I performed several improv shows in Hapeville.  I quit my old job because it made me cry in my car, and I started a new one, and I’ve just now enrolled in a Ruby hackerschool setup. I learned a bit more Python. Some of it even does things.

I auditioned for house teams at a local theatre and was accepted, and now I am set to perform improv more-or-less weekly for the next six months. I joined and left an all-women’s improv troupe.

I started weight-lifting. I started therapy. I cried a lot about my mom. The US legalized gay marriage via judicial review, which was insane and delightful, and also there’s a hit musical about Alexander Hamilton, and I realize this is deeply boring for anyone reading now—this is entirely so I recall this in 10 years when my memory is failing me.

I’ve got plans to move in the next year, maybe to Chicago. I moved into the Mustard House, and then in a a few weeks I will move back out on my own again. Hopefully no radiators explode.

I’m excited and sad and numb in more or less equal percentages at randomly-assigned times. I hope it will get better, maybe, eventually.

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