Soooo, as is the natural order of these things, all the stuff I was complaining vehemently about when I opened this blog account has turned out quite nicely (except that the Chicago Cubs have yet to win a series in just over a century).  I am now a University of Hawaii MFA candidate in Asian Performance, and I have signed two publishing contracts ^_^.  I just found out very shortly ago that the first of the two is slated to hit e-book-shelves (figurative shelves, seeing as e-books are e-books) in June.  That’s… soon 0_o.  In the meantime, I am producing UHM’s short play and dance festival this summer and I’m in two productions that start running next week and the week after.  Aaaaand finals are banging down my door, and I have what feels like several hundred Theatre 101 papers to grade.  I’m busy, but heck, I’m pretty thrilled with life as it stands.  And now you know.

I am very likely the least responsible blogger in all the known novel-writing-author world. But then, I just moved to Hawaii from New Mexico, so I have an excuse >_>. More to come? -EGD

So, my sister asked me to keep her company driving up to Santa Fe for a flute lesson.  To elaborate a bit, my little sister is a serious professional flutist who plays for opera companies and symphony orchestras on a regular basis, so she doesn’t have a lot of flute-teacher options around here other than her university adviser for her master’s degree (the principal flute for the NMSO).  She winds up jumping at anyopportunity to have lessons with this one awesome world-class flute teacher in Santa Fe.  The man lives more than an hour away from where we live, and he recently moved from a house just off the plaza (which is more or less Santa Fe’s central hub) and into a house in the middle of nowhere just outside the city limits.  There really isn’t much of anything out there.  There’s a lot of dirt, most of the roads are unpaved, and there are cacti, rabbits, and quails within rock-throwing distance of anywhere a person might be standing at any given time.  I suppose it’s sort of pretty in its middle-of-nowhere New Mexico way, but it’s not where I might choose to live.

So, anyway, my sister went in for her lesson, and I decided to go on a sort of hike around the “neighborhood.”  The weather was awesome: cool, but not so cool I needed a jacket.  I followed dirt roads, mostly, and Alameda, which is a major road that is actually paved like roads anywhere else, and everywhere I walked, cars passed me.  The roads were quite surprisingly busy for such a remote-seeming place at 11:00 on a Saturday.  At about half-past, I started walking back.  I passed another couple people walking on the roads in the opposite direction, and I didn’t pay a lot of attention to them until I made it to the junction of Alameda and the dirt road the flute teacher lives on, which is when I heard one of them tearing down the hill.  I figured he must have dropped something when he was walking up, so I kept on my merry way, but then I heard/sensed him behind me, turned, and in one fluid motion deflected one of his hands down and the other up.  He appeared to be reaching for the back pocket of my jeans that didn’t have anything in it, so I sort of wonder if he was trying to grope me or something.  The world may never know, because he sprinted like a rabbit into the brush past a cactus and out of sight.  I never felt threatened.  I have many years of martial arts training under my (black) belt, and this guy was a total amature at whatever the heck he was trying to pull.  There wasn’t exactly a crowd of people making noise to cover up the sound of his shoes on the pavement, it was broad daylight, and anyone with eyes can probably see at first glance that I am far from helpless (I am tall, I’m built like an athlete, and I walk with a purpose and with what my acting professor defined as a “military posture”). 

This story came up over lunch with my sister, who insisted that I am an idiot for carrying my keys in my back pocket where people can see them, and this story came up again after dinner when my sister decided to share it with my mom.  Mom thinks I should have called the police and given them a description, but as far as I can tell the guy didn’t actually *do* anything illegal, and I don’t carry a cell phone in any case.  Mom also thinks I should have broken the guy’s nose, but I don’t think that would have been called for in that he seemed quite intimidated enough by my having calmly blocked him.  What do you think?  If he sprints at a girl’s back pockets again at a later date, and she can’t easily prevent whatever he’s trying to do like I did, is it my fault for not having reported him?  And how would you report an attempted and failed… something not clearly defined?  I’m open to suggestions, on the very unlikely off-chance it happens again.  What a weird day!

P.S. yes, the Cubs post-season gave me severe whiplash.  Ouch.  Well, onward to next year!  There is always next year!  *cough* um… I need to buy me a new rally cap.  I think this one is broken.

The Chicago Cubs are going to the post season again!  Wooooohoooo!  We fans are all waiting with bated breath to see if this will be the year we go all the way for the first time since 1908.  It’s high time, really.  For as long as I can remember, the Cubs have been a great team, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a rabid fan.  We’ve had spectacular players, amazing seasons, exciting post-seasons… but of course, this hasn’t carried us to a world series (let alone *through* a world series) since 1945 (only four years after the Cubs became the first major league team ever to have organ music in their ballpark, just to remind you how long ago 1945 was).  The Cubs in my lifetime have never actually stunk, contrary to other-team-fan popular belief.  My point is, this year, after 25 years of loyal fandom, I just want to watch the Cubs rock the world and the world series.

Yeah, I know, I’m counting my chickens before they’re hatched, but that’s not even the start of it.  Since I got home from Japan, I’ve sort of been counting my chickens before they’re even eggs.  I want to think that I’ll be publishing one of those novel length manuscripts that are hanging out and collecting virtual dust on my hard drive, but that’s more because hope springs eternal than because I’ve been given an especially solid reason to hope.  I want to start making plans for a move to Hawaii, and I doubt UHM has even reviewed my application yet.  Every time I show up at an audition, I’m dreaming of being in the play (0 for 7 so far, incidentally).  Heck, I was even under the impression for a while there that Borders would consider hiring me so that I’d have a source of income until that unhatched move to Hawaii.  These past four months or so have been an exercise in hurry-up-and-wait, and it’s turned me into a neurotic e-mail checker and phone-answerer (despite the fact the pollsters are calling off-the-hook).  I submit material, and then I wait (this usually results in quick rejection, but I hear that’s an industry standard).  I submit a grad-school application, and then I wait.  I audition, and then I wait.  I submit a job application, and then I wait.

But you know, I am a Cubs fan.  Waiting is something we have been trained to do very well.  We wait, we hope, we cheer our heads off.  In the meantime, I can’t tell you how much I want 2008 to be the year it all happens.  And you know, this time, I’m not *just* talking about the Cubs.  (Well, ok.  Mostly, I’m talking about the Cubs).

Holy cow, that moon’s been up there for a long time.  It’s not even nearing the horizon and threatening to set, and it’s almost 10:00 AM.  It’s huge, it’s full, it’s quite pretty in the blue, daylit sky, and it has been hanging around full-time for days.  Ah, New Mexico, sweet New Mexico.  I sometimes think this state has the quirkiest sky in all the world.  I’m also glad I’m not a warewolf.

Since web logs came into vogue in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I’ve attempted bogging on multiple occasions.  I had a livejournal first, which I updated twice total.  Then I had a Greatestjournal, which I kept up for almost two months!  Then I had a Xanga to which I copied and pasted the e-mails I sent my family and friends from London (when I studied abroad there in 2004).  I haven’t touched any of those sites in years.  So, naturally, rather than wander back and poke them, I’m opening yet another blog with a different host/server.  Oh, the worlds of sense that fails to make!  Anyhow, I toast this site with my mugof tea *raises cup* cheers!  Caffeine down the hatch, and here’s to my attempting to actually update a blog every now and then.  -E.G.D.

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