Deb and I finally got out to see "Across the Universe" last night in what was our first time out and about solo. (I had been really impressed that it'd taken so long until now, when I realized it took way longer than that for Jessica and I to accomplish the same. Sigh, lack of vehicle.) Not only is this directly responsible for all the Beatles music I'll listen to today, but it's an indirect on how I spent the rest of yesterday evening speaking in a British dialect.
It's a tribute to the people I hang with that none of them called me crazy to my face.
Other things of last night: songs about epilepsy and rocking armchairs, being swing-flipped around someone's shoulders and the sudden reminder of how much I love stuff like that (let's keep it up, world!), plus the first section of "Bill and Ted."
I'm sure the little nudge of homesickness I have is so very helped by putting together music CDs for the two trips to Missouri various tour groups have at the moment. (And yet I still haven't bought my plane ticket home.)
Reasons I might be a bad-ish person: putting lots of country music on CDs for people who don't like country music, possibly encouraging things that I know can't proceed, checking out plane tickets for London at Thanksgiving time.
I can feel the Texas twang take over my speech patterns more all the time, filling me full of the vocal tics my mom worked so hard to prevent in Missouri.
I woke up this morning from a dream in which I was writing a musical. The current song was about quotations (at the time, I was on Chekov's "it's the day to day living that wears you out). I kinda wanna finish it, y'all know?
Someone needs to stage an intervention between myself and my copy of "Legally Blonde: The Musical."
I'm working on a CD mix set for the touring group headed to Missouri next week. I should be putting together things for the start of rehearsals, but instead I'm staying up late organizing music (and trying to find a spot for the above-quoted hidden track.)
Why does everyone want to set me up with someone right now? Is it extra pep leaking into my system from the over-exposure to sorority girls, even if they're just the Broadway variety?
What would you say if I went to New York for Tony week?
I wonder if becoming nostalgic for your childhood while also a single gal in her 20s is the mind's way of informing you it wants children?
*Three quick things attached to last night:*
- Thinking on it, I'm only a fan of props and/or bits going awry (as they did--twice--last night) when they are not during a show I run. Also golden--one actor to the other, as they desperately searched in the dark for a missing shoe: "...I don't know, but it's vital to the plot..."
- For the (ultimately) only one of you all who was promised an autograph from Dixie Carter, we were sadly informed by someone else coming out the stage door that she was too busy toasting the opening backstage to be out any time soon. I'll still see what I can do in the future.
- Even more cryptic: I'm about half a paragraph from sending it. We'll see what happens.
Merv is trying to send me a message right now, but I totally have a rule against sending potentially dangerous emails between the hours of 10:30 p.m. and 7:30 a.m. Just like your local hotel pool. (What? Go to sleep, Hannah.)
* If you have a Hollywood Video going out of business somewhere in your neighborhood, please take the time to benefit from their misfortune to load up on your personal movie collection.
* I've been terribly social lately, so much so that my inner homebody is about to explode (but, naturally, in a quiet fashion). It's nice to gallavant about, playing card games and eating cookie cake, but I still want to go sit in a corner chair with a book and an ignorance of what's happening around me. As much as I want to travel and live abroad, I know there's a part of me that will end up still sitting in a corner and such, but with a different language to ignore.
* I'm totally going to workshop that last bit in my head all night long, and potentially change it in the morning. Good night.