life.

Pittsburgh is sold out this week.

And no, I didn't write an exclamation point on the end of that sentence because I just don't feel it. I should care more about this, I think, but well--right now, I just don't, really.

Maybe I feel ambivalent.

Ha.

I had to preface that with maybe because I can't even commit myself to feeling ambivalent!

Come on, that's funny.

That also reminds me of one of my senior concerts at UArts. The title of the concert was called Ambivalence but whoever was in charge of the posters and programs wasn't exactly a genius in the spelling department, so all of our advertising--as well as the programs--for the show touted Ambivalince.

There was irony in that, though. I mean, you could say we all just had too many mixed feelings about the word to commit to the actual spelling of it.

Or maybe we were just too ambivalint.

I will say that I was not in charge of the posters or the programs. See, I have never been ambivalent when it comes to spelling.

And I am sure that little debacle supplied many a good joke to be had at the dance department's expense that semester...

But right, I think I might feel a little bit ambivalent. About being in Pittsburgh. About being handed a contract to sign for another six months of life on the road. I am tired. Sometimes I just want to go home. But at the same time, I don't want to do nothing--I want to perform and when I remember that, I am happy to be here.

Luckily, I don't feel ambivalent on stage. I really care about doing a good job and can honestly say I try my hardest every time. But that isn't exactly something amazing in and of itself; I mean, most people's pride would not allow them to get on stage and do less than their best, I think.

I want to live in one place, though, making art and coming home to Drew.

Every day.

I don't want to be so transient that my friends never know where to send a card.

Is that a lot to ask?

Maybe.

But it's coming, I can feel it.

Until then, this is my life. All of it. The gypsy existence. The conversations in which my ear starts to hurt from the force at which I am pressing the phone against my head because I am trying to hear the voice on the other end that much better. The bits of news about family and friends I find out via facebook, because let's face it, I am not around. The random churches I get to every once in a while on a Sunday morning. The bars in which I talk loudly with friends, over the music, over the drinks, and find something of community, something of a shared existence, something of comfort. The soaring times in which I nail my monologue, in which I make people laugh over the plight of tone-deaf Kristine. The conversations I have with perfect strangers after the show and the kind things they say to me. The shopping, yes, the shopping! The looking forward to Drew's visit, to my mom's visit, to my sister's visit--and how it will get me through this rainy day. Writing out my life on all the random pianos I have found in more cities than I can recite right now. Playing my music in L.A., Toronto, Philadelphia, Washington D.C...The manatees. The paychecks. The grace that has been abundant in all of this. The people.

This is my life, and I don't ever want to wish it away.