I saw in preview ACT's new play, Blithe Spirit by Noel Coward. It's a good play, some fun special effects but not their best. One of the main characters had a nightgown on with a beautiful silver and lavender floor length robe, which I totall loved. The english accents were okay, although the main male character spoke in some odd accent that definitely wasn't Britt. He was in Athol Fugard's Master Harold and the Boys at ACT last year, and his accent then and the one in this play sounded identical. Guess my friend is right. Some people can do accents and some just can't.

I read an article in the program about the Spiritualist church. Is this a coincidence or what? I watched the movie "The Verdict" with someone from my screenwriting class today, so we could do our homework together. We started talking and then she started talking about the spiritualist church that she attends in SF. What a trip! She said the service is just like John Edward's Crossing Over.

Crossing Over was Amy's favorite show. I wonder if my friend Amy who died in October is trying to contact me. God! Amy used to watch that show every day while she was at home recovering from chemo therapy. She made me watch it with ther one night, since she knew I'd never seen it. She became obsessed with John Edwards and wanted to go see him. He was supposed to be in the Bay Area last year and she asked me if I wanted to go. I said sure. Butwhen she called, the event was sold out.

I miss Amy. She was the only friend I had outside of my writing group, who supported me in my writing. With Amy, I could talk freely about my writing goals and dreams and she would always listen and be so encouraging. I could tell her about my story ideas and she would listen and she even agreed to comment on one of my stories. She was so loving in her critiques and her comments. I couldn't have asked for a better supporter for my writing life. Amy even understood my hopelesly romantic love for Brian and Ellis and my subsequent struggles with them afterwards. The loss of her friendship has left me feeling so alone.

I feel like one of the desperate people you read about who use mediums to contact their loved ones. But it's just too coincidental that I find the spiritualist church connection now and it's similarity to Crossing Over, Amy's favorite show. I feel like I need to go to one of their Sunday services to see if Amy will try to contact me. I never got a chance to properly say goodbye to her. By the time I was able to see her, the brain tumor had turned her brain to mush and she was in an Alzheimer's dementia haze. Amy, my work friend who usd to earn six figures from doing IT consulting work, couldn't even remember what she'd said from one minute to the next. I tried to say goodbye, but how much can you really say goodbye to someone, if you're not even sure they remember who the hell you really are?

And what could I say? I'm sorry I wasn't there for you that last time she you called in August, when I told you 'chin up, everything will work out." I'm sorry that I didn't heed my intuition and call you because I was selfish and didn't want hear about your depression because of your health and work one more time. I didn't know you were breaking down. I didn't know you were fighting for you life. I didn't know that your inoperable brain tumor had start to grow rapidly again and was turning your brain into spoiled swiss cheese. I didn't know that you had stopped eating because you were so depressed. I didn't know and yet somehow I did know, but I just couldn't, just plainly and honestly didn't want to deal with any of it.

That maybe a part of me knew that one of these days you'd give up, because that was your modus operandi, you give up, you walk out, every time, out of every job, out of friendships, out of everything and even your own life. I wanted you to fight, to live longer, but I knew you were tired. Tired of fighting, tired of stressing over your health and your finances. And I'm sorry but I just can't see how anyone can give up. But you did and it freaks me out, because I wonder that there will ever come a time when I'll want to give up again. My attempts at giving up my own life have never worked out and I've just let learnt to let it go because it's never worked out, but the urge never ever goes away.

Is it different on the other side? Are you happy? Are you free? Do you miss life? Do you miss me? Is this you're way of trying to contact me? To tell me you're okay. To tell me that you're happy. To tell me that it's all going to be okay and everything is going to work out. To tell me that forgive me not wanting to call you in August. To tell me that you forgive me. To tell me that I'm going to find another really close friend who totally supports in my writing life the way you did. To not worry because I'll find that wonderful man who's a cross between Brian and Ellis and that I'll have that bouncing baby boy you saw in my future when you read my tarot cards.

I still don't know if I'll go to the spiritualist church. What if nothing happens? What if something does? I've never liked the idea of people channeling spirits, how do they know they're not channeling evil spirits? I know I'll have to resolve my own feelings about this issue for me to attend a spiritualist service. But if it gives me the chance to hear from Amy again, then it will be worth it. I miss her, her friendship and her support for my writing life.