Windy

It's a curious week for me. WestEd work is slow, so I'm getting caught up on a lot of small issues and maintenance.

This also means cleaning up the home office a bit. My computer is processing gigs and gigs of raw photoshop documents, which means I can email, do some web stuff, and other tasks, but not audio editing, video work, or other photoshop work. My job has therefore been to dink around and occasionally swap the DVDs out.

One of the things I've turned up was my old journal from my trip to Dublin, Ireland. It's always interesting to look back at things like this, and I gave it a quick scan. My mood fluctuated a lot during that week, and I wrote some truly awful sonnets.

Awful.

I would be tempted to just transcribe and toss the paper journal, except for the scrawls made in it by the drunk in the pub where I met Sandra and Catia, the Norwegian and Swiss who wrote in it as well, and of course, the little phrases and pictures that Sandra and Catia themselves wrote.

It's kind of a cliche, but it's still true. Travel changes you. I walked out of Ireland with a slew of experiences and a dear friend. Also a bunch of really bad poetry. Did I mention the bad poetry?

I went out to Chicago last weekend. The genesis of the trip was in talking with my friend Debbie, and deciding that the week after we closed Sweetie Tanya would be an excellent time for me to get away from things for a bit. Also, it was her birthday, so that made it an even better deal. I've now been to Chicago twice since my old Seminary days and I still have a deep affection for the city, even if my original time there was filled with struggle.

There's a feel to the city that I just really, really like. I love the midwest comfort food, the brickwork everywhere, the no bullshit attitude of the people I meet, and the fact that we couldn't walk five blocks without coming across a storefront theatre. This is a town that embraces its arts in a way that we just don't see in the Bay Area. Some people coo at babies. I coo at young theatre companies.

While in the Windy City, I drank too much, ate too much, slept too much and had a splendid time. I saw an innovative but mediocre show and an utterly brilliant one, and the two were in the same theatre complex in Evanston. Yep, the two shows I saw weren't even in Chicago proper. The brilliant one, however, featured one of the improv comics that had couch surfed with me back during the SF Improv Festival. I hadn't originally planned to meet up with any of the Storybox improv folks, but a last minute inspiration paid off with an excellent show.

I returned to Oakland with a slew of things on my to-do list, meetings to attend, and projects to pursue. I haven't made as much project as I should for mostly social reasons, and the schedule packing will continue through next week. Still, I continue to hope to get the 411 screenplay (first draft) done by the end of June.

This makes it sound like the trip didn't change me. That was a theme I was developing and didn't follow through on. Truth be told, it's not always immediately clear how that change will manifest. The most obvious thing is that I desperately craved alone time when I got back. I had a fantastic time, but I had virtually no alone time during the whole trip. I didn't realize how much I needed it until I got home. I have a strong introvert side, and it's easy to forget that when I'm in my regular rhythms.

Also, I was constantly tired while I was away. That was partly jetlag, partly the excess of beer and food, but also the exhaustion of the previous months settling in on me. I have a lot going on, but I don't have the pervasive deadlines right now. Things get done when they get done. Earlier is better, but we aren't racing to meet an opening night or any other such thing. So, the coils of tension in my shoulders are unwinding... and I am so very tired as a result.

I'm waking up more and more, each day, but it took a bit.