We're captive on the carousel of time

So... I realized yesterday how wonderful life can be, and oh my GOD, my father TALKED TO HIS DAD VOLUNTARILY.  *Sniff* Made me happy.

And then I had a nightmare all about not getting braces, having a really out of line tooth, and accidentally twisting it out.  Yes, I apparently have dental nightmares. It's not the first time it's happened either.

But then, after I'd bounced at people for a while, I also realized how... sad it was not to be able to share the best news of one's life with the people who matter most.  Because as odd as it is... only two of the seven or so people (not from school) who I've been close to/stayed close to were contactable yesterday.  Another I'll hopefully get to grab today, another I emailed.  But three are people I love so much, I'd have to deliver the news myself, there to see the reaction...

And I couldn't, for any of them.  It's really depressing.  And isolating.  And makes you feel lonely.

I wonder if the knowledge of how much I've done on my own is starting to help.  I don't know.  I still feel that strange little section, yes? That's all... tight and icky.  But it's easier to work through.  And I only think about it every five minutes, rather than only minute.

Oh. Right. Opera last night. I saw the plot twist coming the first time they mentioned the dead father.  Without having read abou the composer who's father killed himself. Yeah. Basically, famous actress and her two kids, the boy's gay, the daughter has a minor Electra complex and they idolize their father who was killed in a car accident. Actor who apparently never got anywhere.  Except really, he stepped in front of a subway train.  Apparently basically sat in his chair being drunk.  (Or high.) AKA, probably really fucking depressed.  And one day just... left, went to the subway, waited for the express, and... yeah.  And the mother was never around, although she apparently is still mourning their father in a way.  And the boy's partner apparently died in dec. 1995, and thinks about it Feb. 1996 (and so I was sitting there crying 'cause Larson had just died then).  And apparently someone, either their mom or dad, used to sing them this lullaby about the moon. ("The moon still watches above you, and Daddy is near.")

Result of this: I couldn't stop crying after we got home for an hour or two solid.  And now I have a headache.

The mezzo playing the mother was Frederica von Stade (apparently nicknamed "Flicka," that's so cute!) who is like... the MOST AMAZING SINGER IN THE WORLD I WORSHIP HER. Aaaaaah. Her Cherubino (from Figaro) is like... the pinnacle of existence.  And the BARITONE. *DIES* Such a cute guy, and his VOICE WAS INCREDIBLE. He WAS a baritone, and had all the low notes, but still all that nice lift.... admitted, he didn't have the gold around the edges, but that's Tim. But still. LOVELY. Aaaah.

(Yes. Somehow, I managed to figure out with NOTHING to go on, before even finding out it was a car accident, that the father of the show--who was an incredibly tangible presence despite never actually appearning--had killed himself. Either A) some things are too easy, B) actors are really all that depressed, or C) I have intuition.  Or possibly D) someone sitting in the back of my head crying through the whole performance. And blaming himself for EVERYTHING wrong in the world. Yeesh.)

Yesterday? Fue una dia extraordinario.  ...Or something like that. Did I really just accidentally switch into spanish in the middle of a thought?

I need help.