the life and musings of a kinky slut


After my bus ride home from New York, post-Hamilton heartache, I immediately rushed to see friends. We attended a local trivia night for the first time. I told them my story; I let go of some of my sads.

Trivia was awesome. Because of our nerd-irific ways, we came in third place. This meant we got to pick a category for next week. We knew exactly what it would be: Hamilton, the musical and the man.

On the drive home afterwards, my roommate introduced me to The Reynolds Remix AND the full John Adams rap. My god, so good.

I wasn’t sure if I would fall back into loving Hamilton. My first try to see the show was so heartbreaking. But there is just something about the musical that draws you in: so much to love and such nuisance in which to get lost. I fall in love with it every time I listen.

I cry every time I listen to Wait For It, even once in a particularly odd moment while washing dishes. Somehow this show has me empathizing with a man vilified by history. So much of his life and aspirations are reflected in people today.

Since my first attempt to see Hamilton, I’ve been wondering when I’d be ready again. Could I save enough money to buy a ticket on StubHub? Maybe another overpriced ticket on Ticketmaster resale or Vivid Tickets.

Then I checked my Facebook. Hamilton opened up a block of seats for later this year. But I checked too late. At 9pm they went on sale. By 10:30pm they were gone. I didn’t see the message until after midnight.

But I realized something as I tried, and failed, to find affordable tickets: I’m ready. I’m going back to New York. I’m going to try again.

More news came yesterday. They’ve changed the rules for the cancellation line. No more tents. No more chairs. When you buy the ticket, you immediately go into the theatre. With one golden sign outside the stage door, they have basically eliminated the paid line sitters.

If these rules were in place earlier, myself and five other people would have seen the show. I have hope, real hope, that I can make this happen.

I’ll show up super early. I’ll wait. And wait. I will NOT leave the line.

Me, in NYC, 11 days away. Maybe this time…

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