Bridge Moments

I first fell in love with London in 2007, when I participated in NYU's study abroad program, and I don't think it's an exaggeration to say those four months were life-changing. Besides being some of the best of my life in terms of friends, stories and general happiness, they set the stage for everything that's happened since. It was during that time that I first fell in love with the Troupe, that I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until I had really lived abroad, that I decided Shakespeare was going to be my life. Without that semester, my life would be markedly different. Maybe not worse, but different, and I love the life I have now.

Out of so many wonderful moments and memories, one has always particularly stayed with me, and I bring it up from time to time. It was the week after my 21st birthday and Zach and I had gone to see the Troupe's Twelfth Night for the second time at the Old Vic. One of the actors had visited our class that week and told us to stop by the stage door after the show, and we did, and he invited us for drinks in the Pit Bar. This was when he was still the only one who knew my name, before the blogging and the papers and the research. I was just a star-struck theatre geek, even more so than I am now, and to spend the evening chatting about Shakespeare with someone whose work I admired so much was just....unbelievable.

When it was time to go, Zach and I decided to walk home. It was a little chilly, but we were both a little buzzed, and it was something like one or two in the morning, so London was dead still. The path home took us over Blackfriars Bridge and...it's so hard to describe. But with the night, and the quiet, and the drinks, and the river, and the show, and the conversation, and the experience, I just really felt (and I said this at the time)...I really felt we were all going to be okay. I just had this feeling. Like it was just going to work out. That life was great at that moment, and would have its ups and downs, but in the end would be fine. And not just for me, but for everyone. We were all going to be okay.

Every so often, I get that feeling again, and I had it tonight. A friend asked if I wanted to get drinks, but instead of going to a pub we just wandered around Stratford, talking and catching up on what's been going on since I've been gone. It was a night much like that night in London—a little chilly, quiet, clear. Near the end of the walk we went down High Street and there was a couple attempting to light a small, reddish hot air balloon, so we sat on the stone wall next to the Birthplace to see if they would be successful. They were. Slowly it began to inflate and then it just...drifted up. And it was so quiet, and so beautiful. There we were, the four of us on this 400-year old street in the middle of the English Midlands, watching this fragile construction and this tiny flame rise higher and higher until it disappeared.

And it made me think that, really, we are all going to be okay.

Homecomings

Have been back in Strats for about a week now, after three weeks back in the land of freedom, opportunity and cheeseburgers that taste as God intended. The time was, I have to admit, just what the doctor ordered. I love my life in England, but it's not without its stresses, and the biggest one I think is missing people. While home I got to spend time at the lake with my mom and sister, had a ridiculously good time taking over a house in NC with 20 of the greatest people you will ever know, celebrated my father's birthday and re-connected with both the individuals and city of DC.

Refreshed and rejuvenated, I am back again. As per usual, my life is mostly made up of long hours at the library, alternatively researching the relative effects of alcohol/witchcraft and distracting all my friends from their Real People jobs via Gchat. But I said "mostly," not "entirely," for there have been other adventures as well. Saturday, Red* and I saw friends perform in The Duchess of Malfi, which was highly enjoyable, and then joined the cast at the pub. I made the mistake of letting Helen buy me a drink of "whatever she wanted" and wound up going to bed at 4am once everyone who had been in my living room for an impromptu dance party dispersed. Sunday, my trivia team was triumphant for the first (and probably only) time, and, Wednesday, Red and I journeyed to London-town to revisit the glory that is Love Never Dies.

As for other aspects of my life:

• I will be switching to a neighboring university in the fall to begin a PhD (!!!) on the Troupe. I'm incredibly nervous/excited/thrilled/terrified. The decision to stay another three years has not been easy, but in the end, I think it's right. And, uneasiness about life choices aside, I have absolutely no reservations regarding the project itself. The fact that I'm even being allowed to do this, to spend three years learning about and analyzing the work of the theatre company that inspired me to stick with Shakespeare in the first place? That's...just insane. In the best possible way.
• I am moving! Red and I are taking Drew and Amanda's place beginning in September, as our landlady is moving back in. Having to figure out house stuff while also writing furiously is in no way an enjoyable experience, but I am looking forward to settling into the new place. It's further from town, which is a drag, but still really nice and has the greatest kitchen of any dwelling I have so far inhabited (save, of course, the family homestead). We also will still have plenty of room for visitors, and so all are encouraged!
• I am not-quite-assisting-but-not-quite-co-ing-but-helping-to-direct The Summoning of Everyman with Jason for the Shakespeare Institute Players. We are performing at Holy Trinity, where Shakespeare is buried, which will be both atmospheric and incredibly limiting. I can't pretend Everyman, as a play, is ever going to make my top-10, but I had forgotten how much I've missed directing and I think the production is going to come together really nicely.

We all know how this works, of course. I write a post after a really long time, summarizing a huge portion of my life into less than a thousand words, and then promise with all good intentions to really start being consistent, this time! Well, the cycle ends now. I make no such promises! I raise no such hopes!

But still, lots of love.

*I know, I know, suddenly I am using real names instead of weird Saturday morning cartoon ones and it's disconcerting and a little scary. It's going to be okay, I promise. I just got tired of having to come up with them, remember them and then ignore just how ridiculous the whole system was. So everyone just themselves, now! And I think it will become pretty clear pretty fast who was who, and then we can all move on, together.