Time, thought and etceteras

I must sleep.

Lots and lots and lots of shows, surely the audience is sick of me by now! I love my work, but I'm a bit dizzy. Imbolc is a strange time for me. Traditional paganism calls Halloween the time of the dead, but all my mentors seem to die around now, Gerald and Asphodel, and in less than a month, the anniversary of Rick's passing.

I haven't forgotten a thing. The measurement of time is a demi-fiction. I blame it on the druids and Stonenjjj. We were all fine until some fool decided we needed calenders.

So I was prepared to treat this as my time of mourning, except that little Miss Evie, daughter to the_lore, was christened on St Brigid's feast day, candlemass itself. As Brigid is a favourite goddess of mine and Lore is an excellent chum I took the hint and recognised that the cycle moves on and I move with it, death, life, babies, all that stuff. We had a lovely day.

I have an admirer, a producer/director with some success behind ready to be my, uh, friend. He doesn't work for the studio, I just bumped into him. Now I have seen the big house and the friendly dogs and the help ready with scripts etc, etc...now my mobile is jammed up with messages from him, delete, delete, delete...

I can't do the etcetera. Twenty years beyond the moment when he would have been attractive, twenty years beyond the moment when I would have been impressed or at least pleased at being pursued, I don't want to offend this charming and pleasant man, I just know what I want and what I don't want. Will I be sorry to have refused him, when there's no more work and the TV game is over? Never.

Cycles indeed, almost a fitting epitaph: she never got the plot and she never knew wisdom, she was always crazy and emotionally overloaded. But at some point, with a lot of joy in her heart, she kinda sorta grew up.