...it has to happen. Filled with the songs of choirs of vitamins in my tissues, I climbed down from only my second climb feeling confused. Why was I tired? Why were my forearms already packed with blood as though I'd been up for 30 minutes? Why had the week-long high of incessant energy suddenly left me bereaved of its magic?
An uninterrupted week of pushing my tissue capacity as far as it could go each day.
That's why. Apparently, even on a Power Rangers diet of supplemental awesome, I need rest. So I didn't even go to the studio yesterday, instead trompsing along the Ballard Seafood Festival (which looks and feels just like any other festival, but with crabcakes! Yum!) with Shaun. We discovered rose gardens and libraries and enjoyed the excellent dog-watching, and did no circus. I even watched the late Spain vs. Netherlands in an effort to peer into my roommate John's own circus at the benevolent George and Dragon in Fremont. It was good times.
Today I can't wait to be back. In fact I'm getting off right now to begin the process, hopefully accumulating in my returning here tomorrow to tell you how much a day of rest improves your stamina. Pink Door tonight for those in Seattle; come on down to partake in the bolognese that earns the title "17 minutes of satisfaction!"
Goals for the year:
1) PROCURE A CAR. The bus is inefficient, expensive, and a black hole for time consumption. Want freedom and the ability to do more than one thing a day! Go Mini Cooper!
2) Perform in Europe.
(dream big, focus small).