|My weekend in a picture.|
I went back to dear old Davis to see the annual Night of Shakespeare. I was incredibly excited to see the show since I've been coaching some of the kids this last week. They were amazing! They knew the text, they knew the emotion, they knew Shakespeare. Breath was being given to these characters from the souls of these teenagers and I was breathing it in like a drug. I love seeing Shakespeare performed well. Luckily, so does my theater teacher. Holla.
I went with Niki and Ally and when we got to the show, our dear old friend Christine and Tucker came in! Tucker and I have this thing where we always end up on Tumblr or Facebook at three in the morning talking about music and boys. He's for real the best and it was so great to finally be real life friends instead of just internet friends. After the show ended, Niki, Ally, Tucker, and I went to Ihop so I could wade in a vat of red velvet pancakes and hashbrowns while we talked about our romantic lives, or lack thereof, and reminisce about the past. The conversation continued into the Walmart, Allison's grandma's garage, and then finally in my car in the Davis High parking lot.
The minutes fled quickly that night with the windows down and the slow September breeze fanning us gently as we laughed and remembered. A lot of topics were covered, Tucker got to kiss a girl for the first time (sup Tucker.), and eventually Niki and Ally drifted on home leaving Tucker and I for more conversation... and a dead car battery. WHOOPS. But it was cool because I had amazing company, a few year's worth of stories to share, and Travis from AAA. It took a whopping three seconds for him to fix my battery and then to be told "don't turn the car off for 20 minutes." Deal, Travis. Deal. I hijacked Tucker and our drive up the mountain began.
I turned each street with ease, years of driving this path under my belt. I drove where I always go when Ogden Canyon is too far, but home is too close. I've driven this route crying, laughing, singing, smiling. Tonight I drove it thinking and sharing music with a wonderful friend. I asked his advice about my life, he asked me opinions of his personality (TUCKER GIRL YOU FABULOUS) and we shared melancholy melodies in the night. When I finally took Tucker home, everything felt easier and settled. The drive was cathartic, the conversation better. I love talking. I love listening. I love learning and sharing. Hearing different opinions about the happenings in your life will never not be helpful, just as that sentence will never not be dreadful. Or accurate.
I got into bed at 4 in the morning feeling so exhausted but so hopeful and buzzing with good vibes. It's nice to lay in bed at night, especially that late and still find yourself giggling about what happened that night, the people you ran into, the people you ignored, the memories you shared. Nostalgia is like a drug. I guess it's just up to you if you make it a happy drug, or a debilitating one.