Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

It has been a week.

There’s always this one week in theater seasons when multiple shows open and other types of shows also happen and it is just soooo much. This past October, I caught pink eye so that took me out of contention. This past week was the spring version – three plays, one comedy show, and one live music to a movie show. Plus a musical last week. the t

I didn’t bat .1000, but I am pleased with my results. There’s the benefit of simply getting out with a friend (my +1 card has some openings) as well as the experience. I’m no live theater expert, but I do really enjoy the experience. I get a drink, I look at playbills, I people watch, I make casual chit chat with other patrons. I get seated, take the mandatory photo of my hand holding up the program against the stage, turn off my phone and settle in to be whisked away.

I know nothing about directing, play structures, and all that stuff. I can learn and I just might do that. But I am definitely an expert on how it feels, what it does for my soul and my life.

There’s a stairwell in City Theatre that ushers us up to the theater. Playbills from decades of shows line the walls, upwards to infinity. My dream is look at each one and then look up the play. This would be physically impossible because they are many feet in the air above a staircase. It would require a little drove with a camera. I hope to see the day that happens.

My blogging block lifted and I produced some decent pieces. I spent weeks on a post about the erasure of trans folx, especially violence incidents, from too many databases. I think it was good and accurate. Then I was notified of the first recorded violent death of a trans woman in Virginia. So I wrote her memorial and cried because the entire time, I felt like I was back in 2013 when reporting was horrible.

Then, I learned that a Haitian immigrant woman was killed after her encounter with ICE and deplorable lock of mental health supports. For me that hits home, but I know for many of my neighbors – they will simply reframe the narrative to support their view that Haitian immigrants chose Charleroir for their nefarious takeover of this region and must be guilty of something because they are so much “other” than us. Are they?

Melissa and I went to see a live music version of Dirty Dancing. It was so lovely. A film we both loved amidst a room of people who also love it. Live music adding a lush layer to the experience. We both had an adult beverage and whispered about our favorite parts. I was transported back to my 16 year old self. This was the first movie I saw in a theater twice. The following year, it was the theme of my high school prom. My John(ny) was my date, my best friend. He taught me some of the moves and it was just so much fun. This was a great night.

I try to think of other movies that I would consider. John Hughes? When Harry Met Sally? Do the Right Thing? Fame?

I spent today blogging and preparing for our first whistle kit assembly event. I’m exhausted. I’m proud of myself for pulling it all off. I’m grateful tomorrow is ‘just’ trash day, no recycling.

I also hit a bunch of goals in my therapy, small things that matter to me. Accomplishments that improve my life.

My federal court case hit a small roadbump, not unexpected, but frustrating. I really wish ACE Sara Innamarato would give me my chance in court and not deflect the issues of due process with technical feints. But we know now that due process is not really an executive branch priority. It is more of a barrier, I guess.

Now I need a nap …