Sunday, 06/13/04 - 10:09 pm.
The Peter Pan play I went to see last night rocked my world. BUT I hated that we paid $15 for each ticket (well, my sister did...for her, her son and me) and then the people who'd paid $5 were moved to the $25 area. It was anarchy, it was unfair. It's stupid, that they number the seats if in the end everybody will seat wherever they want.
We could've been front row (FRONT ROW, PETER PAN FLYING!) because we were early, but we figured "no, this is the $15 area, every price has an area". We were on row Z. ROW Z! And then we see people who'd paid $10 less than us sitting front row. I don't mind all things equal, but they should've just charged the same for all tickets, if things were going to be like that. And the play started 30 minutes later, argh.
On the other hand, I have no complaints about the play itself. Everything was great, things seemed to float and shine on the background (they used this technique of black background, however it is called). I really admire the theater and the actors. And why not, I'm kind of envious, too...when I attend plays, I kind of wish I belonged onstage.
Ok. Now I regret all the things I wrote yesterday about my dad. Annoying and all, he's my dad, and he's a wonderful dad. At some point I thought of deleting parts of the entry, but it wouldn't be fair, would it? It's the truth, anyway. It's what I was thinking at the moment. So the entry stays with its original content, but be sure I love my dad very much, and I am grateful for having him with me.
Angel says I'd better just say nothing. I mean, not to think of responses directed to my dad. And he's right, it's no use, it's not necessary.
Joseph called me this morning. My dad has this pet peeve or something, when it comes to people on the phone who doesn't greet. I understand it, I too hate it when people just say "I want to talk to X", instead of "hi/good morning, may I speak to X?".
Anyway, I don't know if Joseph greeted when he asked if I was home (he should have, yes?), but my dad sounded very polite, as if he knew who he was: yes, she's right here, hold on...good morning. I thought "he never says good morning at the end of his sentece, so either Joseph was being very polite or he didn't greet and so my dad was overly polite sarcastically". I don't know.
REMINDER: ask Joseph tomorrow.
So I came to a solution. I mean, no...it's not a solution. You see, my problem is that I want to introduce Joseph to my parents (because he means a lot to me, because I don't want to hide them such thing as if it was a crime). The solution to it is simply introduce Joseph to my parents. Which is a problem in itself (because of what Joseph is, five years older than me, bla, bla, bla), it's a circle. But I figured it out: at the table, during a meal, I'll say dad, can my boyfriend come over one day and have lunch with us? I'd like you to meet him. End of story, come what may, congratulations to me (thanks, fucker).
I had a neat afternoon. My friends (Victor, Irene and Victoria) came over to work on our research. I don't think we ever worked so much in one afternoon. But also we laughed a lot, we LAUGHED OUT LOUD in every single way, and my mom said afterwards it was very cool that we were able to take everything with such a good mood: "I remember, back in my day, how serious and boring it was studying...but you guys, specially the little one (Victoria)...she's got some lungs". And we ate a lot. And at the end of the afternoon we all played cards with my nephew (who literally became the fifth member of our group today), and we taught him to quote our professors.
I drove Irene home, at night. I drove my dad's car for the first time. I almost give up a block away from my house, but I made it safely to her house (she said I was really improving). On the way back home, one, I almost hit a car behind me, and two, I got stuck and the cars behind me started to honk at me. I surprised myself when I said "they can wait, stupid fuckers". I mean, yes, they can. I wanted to turn to the left and cars were coming the other way. I was stuck for just about five seconds. These people have a serious lack of patience, stupid fuckers.
And here I am right now, with sore fingertips. When you play guitar a lot, your fingertips hurt (I suck at playing, but I do play a lot). Not the skin but the bone, which is both painful and comforting. Victor tuned my guitar today, so I had to play it. Also, my nephew taught Irene to play The Beatles' Hey Bulldog on the keyboard, and all of us (my friends plus my nephew) took turns playing the guitar and the keyboard. Fun times, yes.
[tangent -->] I keep thinking of ways to help people through psychology. I have found this ability to see everything that's wrong on a certain subject, but I still haven't come to the point of being able to actually think of solutions. In addition, I feel like writing a book. But I don't go past that point. "Oh, I want to write a book". And? Nothing. Yet.
This is the end of the entry, because my left fingertips...say, HURT!
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