a penny for your thoughts

   I am thinking so many things right now, thinking like it's my job and I get commission with each new thought.

   I wish I did.

   I am thinking of the comfort I find in the weight of Drew right beside me; the way that he, being heavier than me, causes a compression in the mattress that rolls me in toward him. Closer. And I am grateful for any thing that brings us closer.  When you're spending most nights on level and lonely mattresses, you learn not to be so picky. You learn to roll with it, ah, literally. 

  I am thinking of the quick pounce and sudden weight of a fat cat that just landed beside me on the bed. I love how cats seem to materialize from nowhere. I love how God gave them springs for legs.  

  I am thinking how today, I just barely got to glimpse some of my dearest friends, dearest family. I suppose I should be grateful to have seen them at all, but truly it wasn't enough. 

  I am thinking how performing a musical in a large theater is so very different from playing your own songs in a bar. The former makes me happy to tell somebody else's story, happy to be just a cog in a wheel that is much larger than me. It's especially nice when things don't feel so good within; when I am overwhelmed. Insecure. When I have forgotten that love is much more than a nice ideal, that it isn't really just nice at all--that it is a force, an impetus, a word that clues us in to the mystery of God not being able to look away from us despite our mess, a choice He made long ago when it came to us, when it came to our worth, because, what's that saying?

   God don't make no junk. 

   Although, I am pretty sure Drew might disagree. He might say that junk has a couple of different meanings and that yes, God certainly did make junk and that he is certainly glad for it. And if Drew was meaning what I might think he was meaning then I would say yes, I agree.  

   Ahem.

   But as I was saying, when I don't feel so great about life in general it's a welcome reprieve to just slip into Kristine Urich's story, do some steps without thinking so much, sing a harmony that is now second nature.  It's fun to go head over heels into her quirks, her idiosyncrasies, her life that is wrapped up in about two hours and five minutes.

   Not that I am counting.

  Not most nights, anyway.  

  But playing my own music, well that's just different. It's close to home, intimate, revealing. There is still a level of showmanship, sure; the pressure to entertain, absolutely, but you are coming from a much more base level. It's not so choreographed, which is nice for a change.

  And in a bar, you aren't just performing for the masses. People are close, you can see their faces, hear them talking, see what it is they just got with their sampler plate.  Instead of just a sea of faceless audience members, you are now playing for Joe who recently retired from the navy, got a bomber jacket and a pension he now trades for his pints because of it. You are singing for a couple on their first date; he thought a bar with live music was just the place; if the conversation was lulling they could simply listen for a while and try again at a quieter song. Anyway, you see these stories playing out before you and they become a part of the night, a part of what is happening right now and you're happy to score their stories with your music.  

  I really love playing my music for people. I really love musical theater... 

  I really want to do both. 

  One of the guys who worked at the East End told me, Listen, A Chorus Line sounds great and all--but you've got to do your own thing.  

  From his mouth to God's ears.

  Not that I don't love my job, because believe me--I really really do.