A Toast

Tonight I stood in the cold as my endurance test. Every year I confront the winter in some tangible way, be it standing outside on a cold night without a coat or be it walking on snow in bare feet. This is my poor attempt to emulate what once must have been the way of life. This year I toasted as I endured.

I raise this horn to all the gods and goddesses, to the disir, to the alfar, and to all the wights of the land. I honor you who have guided me and supported me, you who have stood in my way, and you who have quietly watched. I honor those who care and those who do not, for you have all touched me and made me who I am. In this time of darkness I see the first stirrings of light. Although I know this is false-dawn, and the darkest is yet to come, I have hope. Hail.

Camelot!

I saw the musical 'Camelot' for the first time tonight, at Arena Stage. I've heard about it, of course; people have assured me for ages that I'd love it but I never quite got around to it.

I did love it.

If you get a chance, go see it; it is fantastic.

I want Guenevere's clothes. Want with the fires of a thousand years of Muspellheim driving the world to warmth. I wouldn't mind her hairstylist either.

I still think Lancelot, Arthur, and Guenevere should have told their court to go screw themselves and settled down in a nice, messy threesome.

I'm amazed at how well they showed the maturing of their three main characters; all three of my favorite threesome went from adolescents to adults right before my eyes in two hours and forty minutes. It's amazing how badly poor Mordred did; turned into a punk rock, rebellious teenager. Mordred, I weep for thee. I liked Morgan Le Fay and the candy, though. I can commiserate with her; offer me bon bons and you've pretty much got a slave for live. *sweatdrop*

I bawled like a baby for the last bit even though I swore to myself that I wouldn't. Now I have a post-crying, I-will-not-make-a-sound headache and I'm downing water like it's going out of style.

This story, as presented tonight, is essentially a story about the struggle of idealism in an imperfect world. It is especially pertinent these days, but all my political wits have gone wandering - you may expect more on that front later.

Today went well. My newly vacuumed carpet is about to be covered with all of the crap accumulated on my bed, but I am an idealist and I will focus on the pretty things hanging on my walls. I wish I could have more pretty things hanging from my ceiling, but they won't let me.

I need a house that has floors that change like the stage at Arena stage. Need. Seriously.