Blue Men and Blue Drinks

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


At some point yesterday or today (I can’t remember which) Stephanie came back from Maine to celebrate New Year’s with me. Things were not entirely pleasant. The stress of senior projects was getting to us and it seemed like winter break would be all to brief a respite from the agony of dealing with our readers and their seeming disgust with our pursuits.

All of us were melodramatic when it came to our senior projects though. I didn’t know that then, but I do know that now.

Anyway, I bought tickets to see Blue Man Group as a present for Stephanie because I knew she’d never been and we didn’t have any plans for New Year’s anyway. I think she was a little perturbed because I spent money I should have been saving for our upcoming Disney trip, but she was otherwise excited. She’d been hearing what a good show it was for ages.

So we drove into Malden Center station and took the subway into Boston to see the show. We were cordial and we enjoyed ourselves but it was beginning to feel like the winter of 1994-1995 all over again, where a seemingly great relationship was about to falter at the first sign of a storm.

Stephanie wasn’t feeling well when we got back on the train, headed out of the city and then ate at Boston Market in Malden. She still wasn’t feeling well when we arrived at Jimmy’s place for his New Year’s party. I don’t know how much of this “not feeling well” was actual physical sickness and how much was just her not wanting to be there, but I do know that there were only a few people at the party she felt truly comfortable around and that maybe this wasn’t the way she’d envisioned spending New Year’s.

We left the party shortly after midnight and I don’t remember if I drove her back to Angela’s (where she was staying from time to time) or if we drove back to my place. I am more inclined to believe I drove her back to my place for the night.

And that was basically New Years of 1998-1999, the last New Year’s before I started keeping this journal and keeping even better track of what the hell I did to ring in each new year.

Beer for Christmas

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


My clever idea this year, which I wasn’t going to do until I let Stephanie convince me, was to buy my Dad a six-pack, wrap it up, and stuff it under the tree. I thought he would just flip out at the fact that I was finally able to buy alcohol, but the truth is, I don’t think it really shocked him the way I thought it would.

The rest of this Christmas is a blur to me now as I type this just over four years later. For a couple of years prior to this The Ronzios had been coming up for Christmas. I don’t remember if they did this year. I’m pretty sure they didn’t, but I’m also pretty sure I could be wrong.

I don’t remember when Stephanie left for Maine, but I do remember that she spent a small amount of time with me in Chelmsford after we got out of Bradford and before Christmas. This was when she encouraged me to buy the beer for my Dad

It would have been the last Christmas I spent with my Auntie Donna, and though I’m pretty sure she would have been there I can’t recall any specifics.

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is why I wanted to look through my parents’ photo albums again before starting this big lifelong journal project of mine, but I’m behind on it already (as of 2.4.2003) and I had to get started.

I don’t recall what gifts I got. I simply recall wishing Stephanie were there and counting down the days till she came back. New Year’s was to be the real holiday this year.

Funny Accents

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


I’m dating this entry with this date for two reasons. The first reason is that this entry is related to a Directing final and this was about the right time for such things to take place. The second reason is because I’ve managed to paint a pretty complete picture of December 1998 here but there is this one week that just hasn’t been covered. So, even if this didn’t take place on the 17th of December, let’s pretend it did for the time being.

At some point during December, probably in the early going (and it might’ve even been the end of November for all I know), I was asked to participate in a scene for someone’s Directing final exam. The content of the scene doesn’t come flying back to me now as I type this, except that I think it involved me as an unsuspecting British homeowner, and the girl who, in this journal, would later become known as DramaQueen playing the part of an intruder.

The comedy of this situation was that DramaQueen had just finished doing the play Empties and a couple of other things, so she had a very interesting array of dialects floating around her brain. During one of our rehearsals she kept slipping out of her British accent and into a southern one. I found it so funny, I wrote it into the final draft of my senior project.

And this, of course, ended up causing lots of controversy right around the time I started keeping this webjournal.

I just thought I should mention that.

Still No Script

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


It is worth noting at this point, that I still didn’t have approval on a script for my senior project. I also didn’t have a script for Larsen at this point yet, and I had been promising to write a script for his senior project for quite some time. There was talk between me and my advisors of me just writing my People Vs. Jesus Christ script and not directing it, and instead, directing Larsen’s project.

I may be wrong about not having Larsen’s script done, but it occurs to me that I was probably trying to finish it over winter break, so I’m making the assumption that it wasn’t finished yet.

My project, on the other hand, was getting closer. The real trick was, it didn’t seem like it was going to be done in time to mount a fullscale production. To me, letting go of that dream would have been a major failure. I wanted to do what no other senior had done: write and direct. (Of course, once I came up with the idea, lots of other seniors decided to start doing the same thing).

Anyway, I did eventually get the script done and we did mount a production, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Senior Social

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.


The first thing that strikes me in remembering the winter senior social was that my friend Erik couldn’t come. I am pretty sure that is accurate. Erik, you see, hadn’t turned 21 yet. He was one of the few people I met who were in my class but were younger than me, if only by a couple of months. Other than Erik’s not being there, the rest of the event is a blur, not because I was drunk (because I wasn’t) but because we had so many other drunken events that year they all sort of blend in together.

I recall Stef’s friend and fellow dancer Christina G driving us to Lasting Room in her whitish Jeep Cherokee, though that could have been the spring social as well. I think they were having fake marriages done with plastic rings and I recall Stef didn’t want to do it. Everyone else was, even people who weren’t dating, and actually, I think it was mostly people who weren’t dating.

I don’t know what I drank either, though I think by this point I had discovered my love for midori. I do know that I probably considered ordering a Flaming Blue Jesus, as Scott had mentioned that particular concoction to me at some point during the senior project process.