So, I haven't posted a lot lately - that's because I've been swamped with my own sadness about not getting into this year's MN Fringe Festival. Long story short: "A festival of live stage performance, including theater, dance and performance art, puppetry, spoken word and storytelling" open to any performer/producer who has $400. It's a lottery. I wrote a play. My lottery number did not get called. Tears.
Gllen was super empathetic when I got home from the drawing. Eventually, I went to bed and he came to check on me, worried that I was sad. This made me cry. He was such a sweet boyfriend, sitting there for a whole five minutes while I wept about how I felt about the entire situation. But, he soon lost patience with my tears - because how could I be so upset about a lottery? As a seasoned gambler, he thought it was ridiculous for me to cry over something that was entirely up to chance. He left me there crying, because I was being illogical.
When have emotions ever been logical? This is what I get for dating a poker player.
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