more bits and pieces

This isn't me specifically, but it is a pic of the TAA-DA costume I so recently donned for a birthday party (further proving the theory that interns get to do all sorts of things beyond the actually job description). I scared the birthday girl, a charming three year-old named Ava.

In further evening of the world, I found the $20 graduation check that I thought had been lost to a JC apartment void and had already proven to myself wasn't in the exact place where I found it last night.

The box office is totally not going to be back online by tomorrow (unless this statement jinxes that and it isn't jinxed back by mentioning the potential jinx), but that's still what I'm telling people.

Restarting a hobby I haven't held since about fifth grade, Paul Rundle is my new penpal. I need to buy some stickers.

Jessica and her family found me a desk. As in, I came home to the apartment, walked into my room, and there was the world's most perfect desk in the middle of the otherwise empty room. In other furniture news, I've been playing incredible phone tag with my bed and am in talks for assorted small tables/drawer things.

Just a quick note to the other person (of the two) who had to hear about my wretched evening: everything's going to be fine.

Cellphones

I keep missing calls because I forget to turn the phone off vibrate once I leave work, and I apparently can't tell the difference between the bus and my phone shaking.

Due to the above, I have a message from yesterday evening. It was quite delightful, but that still doesn't mean I want the "new voicemail" icon living on my main screen until forever. I have thus listened, first, to this message several times, then, to all my messages several times in a futile attempt to Make the Icon Go Away.

I think the only solution is to wait for another message and hope, with its listen, the phone will finally figure out that I'm well aware that the nice boy called me, and can't we all move on with life now? I therefore look forward to the jostling bus ride tonight, the interceptor of all my would-be cellphone conversation.

2425 Sage Road Apt. 69

I have an apartment. I am a little excited. There was jumping and loud sounds involved.

"Honey, if we didn't act like this, I couldn't stand to be in this office."

Last night I dreamed that everyone (as in, I don't remember who was there) got together to hold a production meeting as to the state of my life. How to solve a problem like Hannah, if you will. I think I need to stop dwelling on general life issues before I fall asleep, or cut back some sugar or something.

Seriously, I was working on all sorts of posts before my life became all about pre-production paperwork, leasing paperwork, reworking the bus schedule to make it to my rehearsals in a different building, and trying to get music off Merv so he isn't as slow. You'd think at least some of those things would be conduitive to drafting, but you'd be mostly wrong. Sorry.

flowers on my desk, delivered with a fake British

I think my "it's complicated" just became more so.

In other news, I'm so close to finishing all this apartment nonsense that I'm ready to tell people it's actually finished...before half the paperwork has gone through. This is totally happening, and I'm thrilled.

today, in the box office

Everything I could do wrong I have done so. Everything I've done wrong in the past has come up to haunt me. I'm half tempted to skip lunch and go home early, but I'm too hungry.

Why, yes, I actually have a multitde of other things I've been meaning to post, but this'll do for now.

Just now, describing the plot of "Smoke on the Mountain," to a woman on the phone:

ME: ...so the family mainly plays their instruments and sings their songs, but often hijinks ensue.
HER: What was that? That last part?
ME: (slower) Hijinks ensue.
HER: What ensue? Spell that.
ME: (wishing had used a different word) H-I-J-I-N-K-S.
HER: H-I-J-N-K-S? What are you trying to say?
ME: *Craziness* ensues...
HER: OH! Okay.
ME: Sorry. That was me using an English major word.

Pollyanna, as always

I was originally and legitimately upset when I sliced my finger open while stuffing packets--baby's first papercut at the new job--but it's since proved to be worthwhile, since I can do any manner of folding, stuffing, and sealing without worrying about further cuts.

Plus, band-aids are always great for conversation, especially when you have a collection of them like myself.

Not that I've finished checking....

It looks like no matter how we try and pull it, we might as well stay at Plantation, eat the $whatever to ride the bus, and enjoy the fact that we don't have to think about how much electricity we're using as the building pays for it for us. Everywhere else a 2B/1B won't cover that particular utility and therefore will end up costing just as much or more as the huge 2B/1B that will. Okay then.

Why must it be Monday again?

For my own personal benefit (as I'll see this and then perhaps be prompted to do some of the items listed), things I need to do:

* balance my checkbook
* complete the direct deposit paperwork
* put together a rough draft of my theater bio
* watch "Eternal Sunshine" so I can get the hankering to watch "Eternal Sunshine" out of my system
* look at more apartment info
* seperate my brain from my heart, at least briefly
* email Jessica back
* stop working on reading books until after I've completed some of the other stuff (currently reading "Fever," a Peggy Lee bio)
* burn CDs
* put together birthday-ness and other assorted craft projects for the end of the week (yeah! let's finish this stuff!)

a cry for help, as it were

I know, I know. I should'nt have gone into the store in the first place. I should've ignored the fact that it was on massive (75% off) sale. I never should've tried on the dress that looked like a ballerina wanted to go clubbing (just perfect for Hannah quirk). I need to stop buying red dresses.


Also, as much as I keep trying to get all classy-like (trust me, I tried on plenty of classy things before the chosen one, even some without polka dots), I seem to fail. "Ballerina wanted to go clubbing?" Am I serious? (Yes, yes I am. And it's quite cute. But I still didn't need to buy it.)

I don't actually have anything to post, but I feel like I need to move away from Wednesday, even if it's only a minor lapse in time.

Any grand ideas on why I keep waking up around six a.m., or even better, five a.m.? Because I'd like to fix that.

junebugs, but no kittens

It was while watching the current mainstage again tonight that I realized one of the pictures on the fake church wall was the same print of Jesus in the garden referenced by a good portion of my English senior seminar project.

one of the ways to my heart, behind good music, movies, and pickles

Today I bantered on the following subjects with the then following people:

* the use of the company wall of pictures as an instant key to learning names, followed by an impromptu quizzing on said names and recommendations for the personal bio (“it looks like you mention all the good roles you’ve ever done and jump to thanking your family”); with Luke from the shop, who is more than okay with not having his picture up on the wall yet

* the inability to work new technology on the first try purely based on previous experiences with similar technology, as in working the company microwave; with the head honcho of it all, Mrs. JC George, who then filled me in on her lack of abilities with computers, too (“He didn’t realize that my saying ‘stupid computer’ was actually a reflection of myself…”)

* the possibility of my parents getting lost forever in the woods and/or being eaten by a wild creature, followed by a list of their supplies (“’We’re headed into the wilderness! We must stock up on cheddar!’”); with my brother, who saw them last

* the best method of surviving and thriving in the midst of a zombie attack, (“Nah, don’t worry about calling a source in Missouri, you don’t even have to leave the state. Or the loop.”) a subject which I suppose I know more about than many would guess; with the fiancé of one roommate, who originated it all by asking about my current reading

My favorite single quote of the day, made all the more ridiculous coming from the very proper head of development (on the seven new female interns vs. the four new male interns): “Those poor girls! They’ll never have a chance at getting married. I guess that’s why there’s outside dating.”

lunch break

It's my hour to use as I please, but I still feel a little guilt for trolling the internet (more specifically, facebook) on my lunch hour while I can hear phones ringing and people attempting to figure out issues with the new box office server.

I'm carrying a pen in my hair again.

Life and work is going well, for those of you who didn't receive an update phone call this weekend. (If you aren't family, you probably didn't get a call. Two exceptions come from the "Melissa Basically Is Family Clause" and Lemon Drop hearing about the creepy guy who tried to pick me up on the bus. Lemon Drop, as he personally pointed out, used to be the not-actually-creepy guy who would fake-hit on me, so this was also appropriate. Also some people just technically called me first before I could make up a fake rule to justify talking to them. End digression.)

I won't begin rehearsals until August 23, though I have my first production meeting tomorrow, so I've been put to use in the box office. Today I got over my fears of answering the phone by doing so all day and only retreating to the back to briefly check paperwork. (Side question: Should I be alarmed by my love of filing? I think it stems from all that early exposure to the Dewey Decimal system and reshelving--thanks librarian mother.) I transfer calls, sell tickets, give out what might be proper directions to places, and generally use all the charm I have to mask my frustration when people can't just pick a seat already jeez. I need to fill out my bio sheet so someone in PR will know to schedule a brief photo shoot so my picture can go on the wall of current employees. I also need some advice as to what credits to include and how to look (with special attention to my hair, as I never know what to do with it besides use it to hold writing utensils.)

I'm sort of dizzy in a "can't believe I'm here" way, my reactions slowed as I sit by a pool, doubting that their 5' mark actually reaches 5' (ignoring the obvious way to find out) and wondering how long the tropical variety flowers will bloom: Just this month? Past Halloween? Up to Christmas?

I have made friends and have a consistant ride to work. I have ridden the bus to work as prep for the bus ride to church (though it did not prepare me for anyone--creepy or otherwise--to the the vulnerable moment of being stuck on public transportation wearing a skirt and heels as an invitation for phone number solicitation. I apologize for any and all names, personal details, and/or vaguely amusing stories that may be offered to strangers as fake proof that I'm off the market until I have time to purchase a bit of strategically placed bling as a defensive move. "You caught my eye, if you know what I mean"--please, buster. Sit on your side of the bench and stop staring at my legs as you try to find the perfect line to make me instantly hand over my phone number. Rant over.)

I have a bed, which is beyond exciting, especially to consider that I'm receiving with the frame the "good" matress (as described by the current owner). On top of that, the bed apparently might need a paint job, a thought which reappeared in my brain the moment the book's narrator mentioned his furniture painting classes that had led to painting odd things, like socks, on desks. So now I want to paint socks on my soon-to-be-mine bed. (There should be sufficient time between now and actually taking possession of the bed for this to leave my system. Or gain a diagram.)

My cellphone tells me it's handled over sixty phone calls in the past week, all without being named (I keep coming back to Rufus, but it's too blue to be a true Rufus) and most when I didn't have to pay for them...which, I suppose, is exactly why I paid for what I paid for. The temperature is currently lower humidity than usual and someone just turned the light on in a room at the top of the Meritz. I'm basically out of paper and a bird is singing in the first tree I've fallen in love with yet.

Perhaps I'm more slightly dizzy as I realize I haven't eaten since lunch at one and seven hours is, bouncy metabolism and all, quite some time to not refuel.

Apparently some people actually go to movies to see quality.

The more I talk to people about "Snakes on a Plane" (and *of course* I'm talking to people about "Snakes on a Plane," though I do attempt to be casual when I bring it up), the more I realize the majority of people around me think it's ridiculous and refuse to see it when it comes out (or ever). I think it's ridiculous, too, but that's precisely why I want to see the confounded thing in all it's bad movie glory.

*BZZZZZ!*

This cellphone's vibrate feature must have a bit more kick to it than my old phone because I totally jump every single time it goes off, whether I'm expecting a call or not.

things saved on my phone

I have a delightful Memo Pad feature on my phone that has aided in my "let's not write so much on your hand, Hannah, now that you're an adult." (It's a fleeting plan, but still.) So, here's a list of things I keep forgetting to do/mention/etc. because they're saved on my phone and not my skin:

* call the cheap, cheap landlord for possibilites

* tell my Mom I might get to use my mascot experience in the real world

* this theater apparently works like CBC and Cru - you might start single, but you probably won't leave single

* already, I am in the midst of office politics. Thank you, box office ladies (and Mr. Marion)!

* I found a closer Coldstone. It's across the street in the mall. I kinda don't want to move based on that, too.

* the outdoor theatre is performing Titus Andronicus this week

* the Houston Theatre District will host an open house later in August

* I wish I'd had a Sonic Brownie Blast when it was offered to me because I crave it a little with each commercial.

(beyond the humidity)

Further solidifying the fact that I live in Texas now: the brief conversation at work about whether we would shut down during a hurricane or not. Greetings, tropical storm Chris!

why am I watching Cool Runnings?

I finally have had my official first day of work, and I would say more but I'm on the phone with Melissa. So too bad.