Friday Night is not Alright.

So it's late-late Friday night, and it's the beginning of another weekend. Weekends are not exciting for me, because there is no joy in weekends. They are a reminder. A reminder that my family-of-origin (what we used to call, where I come from, kin-folk), moved faraway, years ago. That I have no children (not that I ever had that "burning desire" for birthing biological children of my own, but hey, if I have something to offer, I'd like to foster, and eventually, adopt an older child (or two!));that I have few folks who live near me, who'd enjoy attending a dance-concert, or a play; that I eat too much---way too much---of sugar, because eating baked goods, makes me feel comforted, just like ice cream does, just like drinking coffee does, just like alcohol could, if I let it, just like Ecstacy did, when I tried it a few times, years ago, just like dancing with wild abandon, (what a girlfriend of mine said my dancing was like), still does. Because being alone (a good thing--a great thing, even, because I can write in peace, after all!), is not the same as being lonely, but I feel that way too, lonely. Very. And often. So what is it I'm missing? What is it for which I long? To be seen and heard, to be understood. When I was little, my mother would remind me, whenever we had company for dinner, or visited another family's home, "Children should be seen, and not heard." I don't believe that, and I don't want that, and....I want to see and hear, and understand, others. Top of my list, for the next week: seeing the stage musical, "Xanadu", at Actor's Express.Seeing the World Premiere of "The Waffle Palace", at Little Five Points' Horizon Theatre. Seeing if I can get out of this "funk", depression, self-pity (I loathe anyone pitying themselves). Seeing light, again. Peace, kids.