Harold Pinter, the Nobel Prize-winning British playwright, is dead.This is as personal as I'll get here. I've known since I was aware of my existence that I would be a writer for the duration of my life and I knew at a similarly young age that theater would always be there as well. The goal of my life is to be and sustain as a working playwright and it was really, truly realized because I read The Homecoming by Harold Pinter at sixteen.
I believe everyone should have some sort of force they feel so strongly about. Christmas is (or should be) a basic appreciation of the gifts given to us in life, regardless of the cynicism that is so rightly present. It is sad he is dead, but he was old and sick. I wanted to meet him with such an anxiety that I knew it would never happen.
This is the most sorrowful thing that has yet to occur on Christmas for me, but I can only be joyful he gave me my path.
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