March, the first of the spring months, you were of a relaxed intensity. Nothing really slowed down with the exception of a two-week reprieve from an intensive rehearsal and filming schedule (much needed, thank you), but something about you still felt lulled. Until the end, that is. The old adage rings true: “Comes in like a lamb, goes out like a lion.” While that may not be accurate weather-wise, it certainly was and is true for my own life.
March was an exceptional balance of joy and panic. Joy in making a connection with one of my dream theatres, leading to a discussion with a kindred spirit. Panic in kindly-worded rejection letters, both recognizing my talent and saying “sorry, friend, not right now.” Joy in geeking out with like-minded souls. Panic in the realization of, hey, some people will just never like you no matter how hard you try (and joy in realizing that, honestly, why should I care, though that’s easier said than done). Joy in the rising of the sun on a yoga-perfect morning. Panic at universal existential crises. Joy at impulse-buying from two newfound favorite indie bookstores. Panic at feeling the clock tick-tick-ticking away, a metronome pulse against my eardrum.
In short, some days were good. Some days were bad. Some days were filled with elation. Some days were incredibly hard. Such is life, y’know? Universality in specificity, and all that jazz.
Mostly, though, March brought the profound pleasure of feeling artistically fulfilled. Artists and creatives, you know what I mean. It is remarkably soul-filling to just sit down (or stand up) and create, story and character and meaning flying out of your mind like fireflies against a silhouetted sky. It’s an impossible sensation to put into words. It’s a release. It’s a learning. It’s a capture. It’s a freedom. It’s like joy and laughter met up with meaning and difficulty to create one perfect, swirling pigment of art. I haven’t felt that in a while, ever since losing my day I dedicated to writing (I had free Fridays last semester) upon entering January. Now, with writing a musical with my peers, I have a perfectly valid excuse to just create. And if I may say so: holy shit, it feels good. The research. The development. The collaborative atmosphere. The spitting drafts onto a page. The revision. The feeling of creating something important and worthwhile. The fun. Even the long hours. I’ve missed having that feeling. It’s brought me ever so much contentment to have it back.
And on the slightly-stupid-but-also-delightful front: I have done SO MUCH spring cleaning. I don’t know if you’ve gathered this, lovely readers, but organization brings me joy. I am very much a Virgo and a Type 1 in that aspect. My ultimate pride right now? I completely cleaned off and reorganized my bookcases (all 400+ books, what’s up), and it gave me such a nerdy adrenaline rush. They’re organized by genre now. My favorite shelves are currently the gender and sexuality shelf and the “pretty book” shelf (leatherbound volumes and antique finds dating back to the late 19th century). They’re currently my favorite literary children. We’ll see if that continues. ;)
Other than that, March, you gave me surprise opportunities to see my brother and sister play their sports (I thought I’d have to wait until May). T’s soccer season has arrived, along with B’s baseball. Watching them play the two gives me such nostalgia: I still envision them as little five- and six-year-old newbies, running around as fast as their little legs could carry them in team shirts that went down to their knees. Now, B towers over me and could very easily crush me in one fell swoop, and T is tall and lithe and toned. Where did my baby siblings go? (I know I’m not their mom, but seeing them look so OLD just hits me sometimes, and it’s weird. The heck. Stop growing.)
March also gave me lovely books, fun gaming time (Jay is being an indulgent, lovely soul and playing through the Nancy Drew chronology with me before we delve into Mass Effect, his favorite, this summer), and continually bad bingeing of TV shows I should have finished long before now. In short, March, though you still had your freneticism, your anxiety, and your incredibly low points, you were still good. You were still very, very good.
Onto April, and my last five (!!) weeks of undergrad.
I’ll see you on the other side, folks.
Rhiannon
March Favorites!
Books: Spinster by Kate Bolick, and The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
Plays: Opposing Ophelia by Deneen Reynolds-Knott, and The Revolutionists by Lauren Gunderson
Podcast: Broadway Bullshit, hosted by Cassidy Kaye and Abbey Harris
YouTube: Khadija Mbowe’s video essays on race and gender
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