I’m going to lead with saying I’m on day three of a headache and two off nights at improv class. My last Hideout elective class was Monday and I just couldn’t get it together. Timing, relationship, game, characters — it felt terrible. Last night at Coldtowne we met our new teacher (ladies and gentlemen, we have an official instructor) and class (for me, anyway) didn’t seem to take off. I don’t know if this is because we only have three people in class, or because of all the reasons I gave for Monday night’s Hideout class, but still — no good.

I’m not going to blame the headaches. The subsequent large doses of Vicodin and knock-out-a-bull potent ibuprofen that I had to keep swallowing to feel stable enough to participate? I’m not going to not blame that either.

Essentially, I’m responsible for the consequences of my actions, regardless of the control I felt I had over them.

Whoa. I just explained in a missive I just sent that I was going to keep this construct top of mind to see if I could find everyday occurrences in my life to tie this awareness to and I JUST did.

Mind. Blown.

A friend of mine sent me a Facebook message saying she woke up worried about me because of a dream she had the night before. I knew her very well a million years ago in junior high and high school (more so the former) and it was really very unsettling to spend the whole day wondering what shift in the cosmics tapped her shoulder in dreamland. Whatever it was, it was a strong enough push to make her reach out.

Waiting for signs always freaks me out because I look at everything as a possible portend and walk around touching life with kid gloves. No good.

You know what is good? All the other things in life that are making my lights on the inside shine a little brighter.