Simple things

Today was a day to enjoy the simple things in life. We took a walk in the afternoon, my daughter and I. It was pretty sunny, and spring weathery, and after a while I didn't need my jacket, which hasn't happened at all to me this year. Then I discovered a new series on A & E - I don't know if its new or not. It could have existed long before I found it, but today I did. I watched 4 back to back episodes of one of those interior decoration shows.

My house is full of stuff that I was inspired to make. There was a perfect lampshade that I covered with beige cloth. Complete disaster. People who came to my house would suddenly go silent when they noticed it, waiting for their initial words to loose the harsh edges around them. I hoard my creations for no reason, just hopeful that someday I can correct the mistakes I made, and use them.

I don't know. I'm feeling very visual and restless these days. I have to turn in my script, and it seems as if I'm having these technicolor dreams that just won't go away. I just can't concentrate on the project at hand, I want to be doing something else. Just finished reading [i]Death of a Salesman[/i]. I'd gone to the library hoping to pick up something on [i]String Theory[/i], which they had been showing on public television, but I picked up this play instead. The relationship between Willy and Biff. Spot on - how it's between me and my dad. My life revolves around my mom. My dad and I are very strained around each other. Truly great literature highlights the human condition in such clear light. I'm feeling sad, but strangely satisfied and I don't know why. Maybe because someone somewhere wrote a play with a character that could have been me. Is there a word for this kind of feeling?