There was a suicide on campus recently. The name rang a bell, but I couldn't quite recall where I had heard it before. Then, as I was talking to some younger friends of mine, they mentioned that the person involved had done theatre, and asked if I knew him. I told them the name had rung a bell, and they showed me his picture of the front of the Daily.
I have been involved - in some way or another - in over a hundred plays, easily; most at college, but some in Detroit in high school and at Matrix, a few class productions in New York. And in my experience, when I'm involved in a play, the cast becomes my world for the eight or however many weeks we're rehearsing. They are the people I see most frequently during that time, they are the ones with whom I build up inside jokes and a sense of support and being a part of something. The lion's share of my romantic entanglements have been with females from the cast of a play I was working on at the time. The play becomes the defining component of my life.
And then the play is over. And I would move onto the next one. And a new cast. Sometimes there were people from previous shows I'd been in, but oftentimes not. New friends, new feelings, new inside jokes, new cast drama, and then, later, another new play.
The picture on the front of the Daily was of one of the actors from the very first piece of theatre I did at U of M - a scene with just a few kids. I vividly recall the fun and sense of belonging I got from that scene - but I had forgotten this man's name. I found myself thinking about how, for a few weeks, he was one of the people I saw regularly, had fun inside jokes with. He was a big part of my learning to feel comfortable with theatre at UM. I would hear about his day and he would joke with me about mine. And now, it had been eight years since I had given him a second thought, and something, some sequence of events in his life - with which I was now wholly unfamiliar - had led him to take his own life.
Seeing that picture in the Daily made me think of all the other people - dozens, probably - with whom I have had that same brief life of temporary coinvolvement. I knew about your life, and you were mine. The first and last shows I directed in college each had a cast of forty people, and for the life of me I can't recall everyone's name, let alone what happened to them afterward. I'm not saying that I could have kept up all those relationships, or that I could have done anything to prevent this man's suicide, or that I want to make sure everyone else is okay. That's all beyond my capabilities.
But it makes me wonder - where are you all? What ever became of you? Are you okay? I wanted happiness for you then, and I still do now. Do you recall our jokes, our drama, our hours of fun? What if I don't? Even as I write this all I have are mental snapshots with unclear details and emotional weight. Does it undermine the sincerity of my feelings in those hours if I haven't paid them conscious attention since? I hope not. I still consider my theatre experiences to be some of my most formative, especially those casts of forty. I hope you are okay.
I've been staring at this post for about five minutes trying to think up some sort of conclusion, but I've got nothing. It's late.
This white rabbit, for instance. Follow it to the wonderful world of New York City, where wonders abound! Behold!
Tired of boring old present-day ice cream?
I've been havng kind of a tough time adjusting to being back in Ann Arbor, what with the being lonely and having so few people to talk to, so being with Athena was a welcome respite and a decidedly wonderful time. She's incredibly fun, sweet, and genuine; she also wants me to remind you that she's "ninety times hotter than other girls." I miss her very much.
Yep.
So here I am. I'm teaching at what is perhaps the most frustratingly bureaucratic university you can imagine. In addition, I miss New York and my amazing friends there; while Ann Arbor was great when I was in college, I am not in college anymore, and I am aware of how fun and beneficial for personal growth it can be to live in a place of constant vibrance, challenge, and opportunity. So what's next? Stick it out and try to make this UM program work? Return to New York? Take Dr. Lalwani's advice and go to med school? Move to Japan? Who can say? All I know is that spot of gray hair I've got ain't getting any smaller...
2,500 people, and was packed full for both the 12 and 1 o'clock masses. I arrived about halfway trough the noon mass - hoping to avoid some of the crowds - and managed to get a seat for the 1 o'clock. The music was very moving, and the homily was surprisingly good. The cathedral is gorgeous, and I'd like to go back when there aren't so many people so that I could take a look around.
The ring, designed by him just for her, is made of rose gold and other terms I don't understand. But what I do know is that she and her gentleman suitor are happy together and will continue that way and, therefore, so too am I happy. One sister married and another engaged? Weren't they just twelve and fighting with me over the front seat? 
For the FluxFactory fake office holiday party, of course! Everyone dressed for a debaucherous office party, and we were given fake name tags and, occasionally, letters of reprimand from our superiors while enjoying live music, dancing, and, of course, office-party-themed shennanigans. One of the highlights, besides the spectacular view of the city from the roof of the factory, was the video installation at the party that played those old christmas claymation specials - you'd never believe how well Mrs. Claus's song matches with one of Beyonce's. This was a great weird event. New York does it again.
