I am on the conclusion. Seriously, what is my problem?

I should, in theory, have about five sentences left. Six, if you count "Sincerely, Hannah."

I've put decals on toy cars.

I've cleared some old text messages.

I've watched a few movie trailers.

I've changed the format to space it slightly better.

I might go clean the bathroom; it really needs it.

It's just like every other time I've written an important paper, except I'm not actually getting a grade. I'm getting a job.

I'm trying to trick myself into writing the letter by promising myself things I was going to do anyway.

"Oooh....if you write that letter, Hannah, you can go to Borders and pick something out."
"Self, I have a coupon *and* a giftcard. I was totally going to buy things for cheap anyway."
"What if I refuse to take you?"
(blank stare)

All I need is some cherry coke and it to be 3 a.m., and this is totally my senior spring semester all over again.

Fun fact I probably shouldn't mention in the letter: I've taken more headache medication this year that possibly all four years of college.

I've lost all my ability to focus and write a paper, or letter (in this case). I supremely want to say "Yes, I'll be staying. I would like to stay in the same departments. Thanks." and be done with it all, but I have too many hours before it's due to allow myself that sort of desperation.

I'm off to play Addiction Solitaire. I've not touched that game since whatever paper I had to write last for college, approximately this time last year.

(also, discovering nicknames)

There are days that are good, and then there are great days. The difference can be found in the number of opportunities to put a Spiderman invitation in the artistic director's mailbox. The world has no idea how happy I could be if I had a reason to put anything with superhero clipart on it in JCG's box everyday for pure amusement.

Also-also, I guess I need to invest in a llama pinata now that everyone will expect it or something.

In unrelated news (as is often the case in my titles), a food drawer is totally the best thing about this desk.

It's nice to be appreciated.

?!?!?!

I don't know if I should be excited or appalled.

going to bed now, as requested by the room

With as often as I've been up late for both projects and goofing off, there have been few evenings ending with me collapsed in giggles over every pointless comment made by those around me. That it was brought on tonight by a combination of psychotic Judi Dench and newspaper coupons is not worth anyone's efforts at analyzing.

crumbs

* In today's battle of "is it a cold, or is it allergies?," the clear winner is more uncertain than most since I spent the morning hacking on phlegm and the afternoon has transformed into sneezes.

* I'm sorry that I just mentioned phlegm.

* I love Mondays off, and am incredibly sad that I won't have another until after my next box office shift (in May, I believe). Mondays are a fabulous way to get things done (what? I can go do other things, within regular office hours?), but I've lately used them for a bunch of nothing. I need spots of nothing.

* Probably, my logical side will rear its head again once the money is in hand (or bank account, as is more likely), but if I had $200+ at the moment, I know exactly what mp3 player I'd purchase.

* I was pleased that, after everything else that happened in the movie, "Children of Men" decided to leave about two ounces of hope at the end. I was rather afraid there wouldn't be anything left to dwell on but the utter bleakness of the world.

* Who's gonna be singing along with the homicidal plant, et al, on the big screen this evening (for only $6)? While consuming who-knows-what-yet food items? God bless big city stuff.

Neither option will get you my grand story about the Easter show this weekend.

I'm debating between going to bed or making cookies. I don't know where this girl came from, the one who debated between baking and sleeping.


Billy Joel just starting reminding me that only the good die young. Cookies it is, then.

in the light

For those of you in the know, the water did come back on for the second show, and the electricity was never a problem. For those of you not in the know, I'll fill you in on the rest of the story (which I promise doesn't lose its kick by knowing the ending) on real-person Monday. We all know that actually means later this week, but I'll throw in a knock-knock joke to make up for the inevitable delay.


Several of us got together for Easter to hang out, hunt eggs, eat enormous amounts of food, psyche each other out at cards, etc. As often happens when two or more interns are gathered, we got onto the subject of who's probably staying and who's on the fence, and--more importantly--what we wish we could change. (I won't go into the last part.)

I wonder if I've spent enough time on that decision for myself. I've been planning on staying from the moment I realized they seemed to want to keep me around. A theater company offering me a position doing exactly what I want to do right now--work in children's theater--in this crazy city that I've come to love: why wouldn't I stay? As transient as we theater people are, and as much as I still want to accomplish in places not ending in -exas (more like -ngland), I would like to take a bit of time to settle in one place, gain as much experience as possible, and continue to grow and improve.

I've been in Ecclesiastes, which--at first glance--could be summed up as "we're all going to die anyway, whether fool or wiseman, workhorse or lazy bum, so why bother?" Let me tell you, as busy as I've been lately, *anything* telling me my hard work doesn't matter just ticks me off. As you get further along, though, it turns into less "work doesn't matter" than "work not done unto the Lord doesn't matter." Ultimately, it won't matter if I think I should stay in Houston, but that I'm where God wants me to work, whatever that position might be, wherever it might be.

I'm a bit frightened to turn this over, suddenly giving myself permission to possibly not stay. Honestly, it's not like I've been beating back an impulse that I should leave, but I also haven't been earnestly searching. That such an epiphany should hit me at around 11:30 p.m. while watching a movie with friends is simply an example of God finding me once I sit still long enough. What point I'm trying to make by posting it to the whole world, I don't know. I guess prayers would be appreciated.

---
I've changed the title for this post three times, trying to find something to capture this post in a single moment. And then I realized that the song I was listening to (on repeat, no less) said it all. Make of that what you will.

somewhat paraphrased, of course, due to length

Hannah! They're working you like a mule! Sit back down.

No, sit down. I want to tell you a story.

(Pulls open random book next to her, flips through pages. Proceeds to not look at book.)

"Once upon a time, there was a little mule who was always working. No matter how much the mule worked, it never got a day off. Not Passover...not, um, Yom Kippur, not any other holiday. It just worked and worked and worked and worked and worked and worked and worked. And then it died. The end."

Do you know what the moral of this is?

-Don't ask off for Passover?

NO! Don't be the mule!

-Tiffany, at the end of lunch, after I told her I needed to get back to work

good day sunshine

I don't know if it's just that I kept telling myself that life would be much calmer/better once it hit April, but I feel like enormous piles of stress flew off my back by the time I woke up this morning.

Of course, none of this would have to do with not getting out of bed until 10:15 (ah, blessed Monday day off), or the fabulous one-liner that popped into my head that I'm going to stop and write on a post-it right now before it disappears. I'm so saving that for an opportune moment. This joyful feeling also couldn't possibly come from the technically start of today (last night), with the continued introduction to Firefly for two of my favorite people in Texas, one of whom has a monkey named Optimus Prime. Because we all know that I totally don't get a kick out of details like that.