Oh, gimme your lips for just a moment
and my imagination
will make that moment live.
Give me what you alone can give
A kiss to build a dream on.
- “A Kiss to Build a Dream On”, traditional

I learned, in working with a photographer for many years, that my personal taste in photography doesn’t necessarily lie in the aesthetics.  I prefer photography that tells a story, that relays an honest emotion, that frames a person.

I’ve also learned, in sitting for several photographers, that I am not particularly photogenic.  I can put on the correct “Smile!” face, but I naturally do not appear favorably on film.  The only time this is untrue is when I’m ecstatic.  When I’m happy beyond words, everything takes care of itself. 

I have yet to see my Seussical bio photo, but just from knowing what mood I was in when it was shot, I can tell you it looks very staged. 

My first time to hold baby Matthew was one of the more amazing things ever.  He was still covered in goo, trembling, and seemed so new I can’t really put words to it.  The minute I felt his wet little body in my arms, Carolyn yelled at me to smile.  I could barely take my eyes off of him, and before I knew it, a flash erupted.  Voila.  People see that pic now and tell me how gorgeous it is, but I don’t see me at all.. I see Matthew. (Looking up at Aunt Sarah, and visibly terrified of the life she had planned for him.)

I only bring this up because I have spent the slow part of the afternoon looking at the photo booth strips I have taped to either side of my monitor.  They are goofy, incredibly silly, and there is not a picture where both of us are normal (as in, not cross eyed while sticking out tongues and making a low-tone face), but you can see such an overwhelming happiness in it.  Our smiles are from ear to ear, you can almost hear the giggling, and there’s two people, very much in love.

I miss him.

And I miss my friends.

.. I can’t wait for my wedding.  It’s probably the next time I’ll see everyone in the same room, and I plan to be at least photo-booth-strip-happy.  I imagine it will be 3x that.

“Mary walks
down to the water’s edge,
and there she hangs her head
to find herself faded:
a shadow of what she once was.
She said, “How long have I been sleeping
and why do I feel so old?
Why do I feel so cold?
My heart is saying one thing but my body won’t let go.”
- “Mary”, Sarah McLachlan

This is Sarah, beaten.

I’ve rewritten the next sentence four times now to try and make it more upbeat.  I hate writing sad, mopey, “woe is me” stuff.  Mostly because I hate reading it.  And because I’m resillient (I think) and I’ll be up again in no time (I hope) and I’ll look back and hate my little pity party that I threw myself.

But here’s what it boils down to.

I’m so tired.  I’m tired of not having time.  I’m tired of having to schedule things three weeks in advance in order to find a few hours that aren’t already booked.  I’m tired of not having dinner with my husband.  I’m tired of not seeing a sunset.  I’m tired of not being able to walk hills with my friends.  I miss my friends.  I feel like I haven’t seen them in WAY too long.  I’m tired of having to cancel lunches.  I’m tired of having to budget every goddamn dime.  I miss V8, tunafish, and Allegra-D.  I’m tired of crawling into bed too tired to talk and silently resenting Bryan if he has the energy to hold a conversation.  I miss him.  I’m tired of having four different directors all tell me something different, and the one director that really DOES matter in my book changing her mind every time the lights change.  I’m tired of being a trooper backstage to only be ripped up.  I’m tired of having rehearsals every night.  I’m tired of being someone else.

Alright, that’s done.  Pity party over.

So, in other, more amusing news, I lost my tail last night.  My character, the Amayzing Mayzie, is reknown throughout the jungle of Nool for her fantastic tail.  And, believe me, it is FABULOUS.  But it’s also heavy.  And when Mayzie comes down from her nest in the hopes that Horton the Elephant will sit on her egg for her, conceivably, her tail comes with her.  But that was not the case last night.  My entire tail stayed up, perched on a 9 foot nest.  Talk about cutting Samson’s hair.

I think, maybe, it’s time for a sabbatical.