And here it is

my ever more infrequent Blogging.

Been hanging out in Texas for about 7 weeks.

Good food.

Good people.

Art/Craft

Humidity.

Bugs.

and of course............Opera.

Opera.

It stuns me, at least makes me pause to realize that I still love this field. I was confronted by a roommate one morning as I was in our kitchen rummaging for a glass of soy milk and some cheez-its after work at 3am. He asked me, "how are you not going insane right now?" Without even thinking, and through a soy milk mustache I replied, because I am in love with what I do. And suddenly, I came to the realization that I have made a career out of that precious time that people spend in this expansive, opulent room, sitting next to other and equally expansive and opulent people, all watching expansive and opulent worlds and performances for 2-6 hours. A few hours that to so many watching, is precious and treasured. That time was given for an anniversary, a birthday, a date. It was purchased by a donor for thousands in the pursuit of a heightened philanthropy. Bought by a student for $10 who looks a little bit out of place, a little bit under-dressed, and a little more awed by the whole thing. The energy of an opera house, any theater really, is intangible, inescapable, and addicting.

I understand what it means to have been "once bitten" by theater. The concept so idly tossed about by professors and students alike while in the confines and safety netting of the modern day "art school", but which has become an often painful reminder that I have chosen a course which to deviate from would mean a lifetime of anti-depressants, therapy, and a never-ending stream of the could have/would have one liners at all family functions.

But to cut through all the quasi-intellectualism.....

I like what I do. And I don't think I want to do anything else.