Mary + Her Mental Health

Well, hello there! I’m back in Boston, and I’m fresh from my trip to California. I’ve got great memories of D’land, and of being with the fam. I’m handling the time difference extremely well, I’m nearly caught up at work, I only have three zits on my face, and I’m thinking about wearing my red fluffy socks tonight. Cuz it’s Friday.

Ah.

So while I was home, my sisters had me watch a couple of episodes of this TV show called "House". (We don’t have TV at my place, so I have absolutely no stinkin’ idea what is on the tube these days). Okay, this show, I must say, is pretty fun. My sisters are hooked on it, because Alias is just dumb these days. Apparently.

I had myself the largest crushy crush on one Robert Sean Leonard at the ripe ol’ age of 15, when my parents took me to see Dead Poets Society for my birthday. Yes, DPS is not exactly the zippiest of festive birthday flicks. But I was turning 15. I don’t know about you, but around that time in my life, displaying signs of happiness meant you were clueless as to how cold and ruthless the world around us actually is. Therefore, DPS was the choicest of choice movies to satisfy the angstly-gangly moi. Go 1990. I also think it’s funny how anti-authority I thought I was, but still had no problem being seen in public watching a movie with both my parents.

But back to the Robert Sean Leonard…yes, please.

Robert Sean Leonard plays a supporting role in the show, House. (for those of you who don’t watch). And I gotta say…it’s a little freaky how this man does not age. From DPS in 1990, through Swing Kids, Much Ado, Last Days of Disco (I admit to seeing it, to my everlasting shame), right up until this show, House, THIS GUY LOOKS NO DANG DIFFERENT.

But I still really like me the Robert Sean Leonard. Is he gay? Just wondering.

Because I really think Robert Sean Leonard and I should meet. Yes I do. Why? Because I understand him. I know his inner parts. I bet I can even guess his moon sign. We could sit together at a café somewhere in the Village, sip some kind of something, and discuss the difficulties of crossing over from stage, to film, to television, and how arduous the life of art really is. We’ll wear matching scarves with light khaki sport jackets. Patches on the elbows. I’ll lend him my handkerchief when his eyes mist, he’s so sensitive. And our talk is so intimate. He’ll say something about my eyes. I blush. Tension rises. We gaze. The waiter comes to break the piercing silence as he clears away our dainty saucers. We exit arm in arm. Only our eyes speak the inaudible words. “I know….I know.”

Then we head over to the tractor pull and order a couple of Budweisers. I win the belching contest. As I walk up to get my ribbon, Robert Sean Leonard bellows: “yeeeeaaaaah! That’s my chicky-mama! Woooo hoooo!”