things come into our lives; things leave our lives

got the call from san luis little theatre: i'm in the play!

no one knows who is playing what role yet. next tuesday is our read through all together and the last time most of us will rehearse with each other. carrie and michael are in, too.

carrie came up to me tentatively at the end of our work day. "did you get a phone call?" she asked cryptically. i said, no... did you? and i knew within a nanosecond that she'd been cast. go home go home go home was her cry to me and check your messages. call me as soon as you find out. call my cell. i have to know. and i had a very nice welcoming message on my machine from the assistant director and i did a little happy dance by myself in my room until i decided i had to share the news down the hallways.

smashing perfectly good guitars
about a month ago i broke my guitar. the guitar is strictly sentimental. well, not strictly, as it had, for years and years, one of the sweetest sounds you've ever heard. a beater, it was the guitar i could take to live oak and not worry about. it was a guitar everyone else wanted to play because of its sweet sound. a hand-me-down from my ex, it had hundreds of songs written on it. gigs played. campfires serenaded.

it bit the dust after a particularly long day at work. i was well past hour 16 at that point, and it was a sunday night. had been working all weekend. we all had. someone said "check your email, check your email, check your email" with great urgency and as i headed to my keyboard something just barely disrupted my guitars propped up position. and in abc-super-slo-mo i watched the guitar begin to fall. i tried to steady it with my foot, which instead hastened its union with the floor. it snapped at the top fret.

tonight i finally had someone look at it. i hadn't even opened its case since it broke. i couldn't. seeing it again tonight left me a little woozy. a little nauseous. as if i couldn't keep eye contact with it, or something. peter, the guitar guy (friend of steve s. who so graciously introduced me), kinda shook his head. it would take hundreds of dollars. and even then he couldn't guarantee it would be "fixed" or even sound good.

so i don't know what to do with it. contact the xbf, i guess. get his input. to fix, or not to fix. that is the question.

i figure things come into our lives. things leave our lives. and so it goes.