While in Santa Cruz, my dad offered to help pay for me to go to Ashland this summer. To say (or write) that I was surprised would be an understatement. (It was one of the kindest things that I've been offered, ranking up with grandma paying for the family to nearly die laughing at Bill Cosby.) I didn't take it though. I said, "No thank you," almost immediately. I also mumbled something about not wanting to go by myself and figuring that it's too late to get someone to come in August with me.
On the drive back to Cowcity, I kept hearing a voice in my head say, "You should have taken the money. You'd get a week off from work and you'd get to see a shit load of plays. Why couldn't you have taken the money? A week away from Cowcity. A week away from people. Why are you such an idiot?"
I also took this kind of abuse from myself yesterday.
I was afraid that I'd start in on myself again today, so last night, why thinking sleepy thoughts, I figured out why I said, "No," to the money.
I said, "No," because, I finally realize, that there comes a point in a person's life when he, or she, has to do things for his, or her, self. And, for some odd reason, this issue is the one that I choose to take this stand on.
I want to go to Ashland. I want to see the Shakespeare Festival so bad that I've recently dreamt in an odd form of Elizabethan style of English. Going to see so many plays sounds more fun to me than going to the Comicon International in San Diego, even though I know I'd have a blast. But I've decided to support myself for a trip like this.
Is it a dumb move? Dunno.
Is it the right thing to do? Dunkare.
Will I make it up to Ashland next year? Mae-Bee.
More likely, though, will save money for trip to Pittsburgh to visit friends, and see the sites where a so-so movie was filmed, and, hopefully, meet a fresh little person.
A year is a long time. I'm not even sure what's going on in my life in six weeks, what makes me think I could possibly know what may or may not happen a year from now?
'Til the time I do know, I am no longer harassing myself about not taking money from parents.
Maybe I'll sleep better tonight.