Today my mood has been shifting on a dime. The happy CTA guy at the train station greets me? I'm happy. My train is late? I'm annoyed. Cute guy on the train? I'm happy again. Someone gets in my way on the stairs? Pissed off. I'm struggling to stay alert, yet every time the phone rings, I tense up and wish the person would go bother someone else. I wish I'd had night of more excess to justify such peevishness. (Hopefully
monshu was able to make good use of the leftover champagne.)
But there has been one bold beam of light into all this: Shortly after I sat down, one of my colleagues came to me with a ragged copy of Macbeth that was used at the Gate Theatre in Dublin. It was full of notes in a language no one else in the office could decipher, although they suspected it was Gaelic. "Would you know?" she asked.
Um, well, actually, as a matter of fact, I would know. It took me a little while to be sure because it's hard enough making out scribbly handwriting in a language you know well, let alone one you barely know at all. But, yes, Irish Gaelic. Now I'm annoyed I can't make out more than isolated words, because I'm intensely curious as to know what the notes say, but at least it's a good kind of annoyance.
But there has been one bold beam of light into all this: Shortly after I sat down, one of my colleagues came to me with a ragged copy of Macbeth that was used at the Gate Theatre in Dublin. It was full of notes in a language no one else in the office could decipher, although they suspected it was Gaelic. "Would you know?" she asked.
Um, well, actually, as a matter of fact, I would know. It took me a little while to be sure because it's hard enough making out scribbly handwriting in a language you know well, let alone one you barely know at all. But, yes, Irish Gaelic. Now I'm annoyed I can't make out more than isolated words, because I'm intensely curious as to know what the notes say, but at least it's a good kind of annoyance.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Leftover champagne put to good use...
no subject