When the parade passes by...

A photo from our flat in Scotland. No selfies, here,...I was the one taking the photo.

"And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow." Gilbert K. Chesterson

"Your trip is mentioned on page 163," my friend Kirsten said to me the other day at work.

"What?" I asked, confused. Trip?

"The trip you took when you were just out of college. The one where you lived in a flat with Viola Davis and a bunch of other actors. It's mentioned in her autobiography 'Finding Me.'"

"Oh!"

"I mean, you're not mentioned in it or anything," she said. "Just the trip overall, and the flat you stayed in."

Well, I figured that. I wasn't exactly the star of the show. I was the assistant producer and assistant director, and had this weird tiny role in one of the plays that we produced as part of the Ediburgh Fringe Festival, Monkey King. In that play, I had a set of percussion instruments in front of me and would occasionally hit a bongo or pling a tambourine to add accompaniment to the action at certain dramatic moments. We spent hours adding a pling here or a tap there. I still have the bongos in my basement. (I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP)

( Read more... )