07 August 2016

Yesterday I tried to blog, but I just reread the draft I saved and…yeah. You’re welcome.

I was not in a particularly articulate mood.

Tonight is maybe a bit better? I ended up venturing out in a group of eight today, which is about four more people than I can gracefully handle, but then I got dinner and sugar and I’m riding a sugar high. So, while you may not have an exactly eloquent Melissa, you do have one who has plenty to say.

The last few days have been remarkable, involving so so much that I’m kind of timid to tell you all about it for fear of boring you. I’ll try to narrow this down to digestible highlight-tidbits:

Friday (though I almost called it Monday because ever since I’ve gotten here, any day in the past that has involved Scotland has been a Monday, which is quite a fascinating phenomenon) was a crazy day.

  • We saw three shows, two of which were so-so, and one of which was fantastic.
  • Maegan and I agreed that, since my little brother wants a kilt, we were going to convince my him that the sparkly golden mini skirt we found at a thrift store was actually a traditional kilt in the Emig clan’s tartan. Since the Emig clan isn’t strictly a real thing, I could in good conscience tell Jake that he was parading about in an accurate tartan-that-wasn’t-a-tartan.
  • Maegan and I got on the wrong bus, I lost my bus pass, and we ended up walking 45 minutes in the rain to get to a party half an hour late.
  • We got to go to said party, a Ceilidh (pronounced like Kaylee), which is a traditional Scottish dance. They taught us some super fun dances, and I got our tech director to make Righleigh to dance with me. (Technically, dance etiquette says that no one can say no to someone who asks for a dance, but Righleigh wouldn’t abide by tradition and made me go to extreme measures.) Favorite dance of the evening was the Virginia Reel.

Saturday was absolutely head-over-heels wonderful.

  • We started off the morning at a wonderful take on Shakespeare’s “Measure for Measure.” The show was high energy, interactive, well-acted, and just plain fun. Plus, the company is from Corpus Christi, TX, so our mostly Texan group was super down with that.
  • I got to have lunch with my aunt—we realized we haven’t seen each other for almost ten years!—and her wonderful friend Delia. Delia lives here in Scotland, and if I’m half as cool as Delia is by the time I’m 91 (the age she is now) then I’ll be pretty freaking awesome indeed. The food was great, but the company was even better.
  • We got to open “The Shadow Box!” We had a wonderful crowd, the show went pretty well, and Becky & Delia were in the audience. It was nerve-wracking for all of us, but we made it through our first performance in a new space in a new country on a new continent, and it felt great.
  • I locked myself out of my flat, which was much less exciting and led to me crying in the common room for a while. But cries leave a body feeling better, so it was actually a blessing very well disguised.

Which brings me to…


No, I’m kidding. (Though that wasn’t funny; it was just weird. Solid plan, Melissa.)


Yeah. Today was a good day. (More or less. At least, I giggled a heck of a lot more than I even remember doing in the past two pretty-great days.)

This morning I got to catch a bus with three fine people and we saw an adorable little show called “The Girl with the Hurricane Hands,” plus it was free, so that was awesome. It wasn’t really in a children’s venue, which is sad because it’s a lovely show that’s totally kid-friendly.

Of the five person cast, one girl caught my particular attention.

Firstly, because she perfectly captured what the world calls beauty:

She was tall, but not gawkily so. Her face was put together attractively, her eyes sparkled, and her mouth was attractive and expressive. Her long limbs moved together with coordinated grace. She seemed to have everything so put together.

But then I saw the scars.

Realized how thin she really was.

And my heart instantly broke. For her. For the art inside of artists that drives us mad sometimes. For a world that insists that we fit its mold if we want to attain its success. For the fact that I don’t know her name and can’t just go up to her and wrap her in my arms and show her how beautiful she is.

I dunno. Maybe I am hurting for a girl who has already found hope.

Maybe I am hurting for all the girls who haven’t.

Maybe I am breaking because this city is so broken. Because this whole crazy world is so broken and we’re running ourselves to a place that tells us everything will be okay as it breaks us further.

Maybe I am crying because I know the answer but, even if I had the capability to shout it to the entire world, so much of the world wouldn’t care to hear it.

What do you do when you’ve got the life raft but nobody will acknowledge that they’re drowning?


I don’t think I feel much up to writing more. I do think I’m going to go find a hug. Suffice it to say that the rest of my day was lovely. Here are a few pictures from the past few days:



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