So.

I'm sorry for being a bit over-dramatic lately. I'm not rethinking all my life choices--let's just say I'm evaluating a few of them. (Dear SP: I don't know what I would do if I weren't an SM either, so that likely won't change soon. Love you!)

If you include the special events of the past two seasons (which I do, because half of them involved a difficult director), this is the eleventh thing in a row I've stage managed for the company. I hasten to add that I feel beyond thrilled to be constantly employed--in my degree field, of all things--especially when I check in on my fellow theater majors online (all the baristas, dog walkers, office workers, and even actual theater workers). But everyone eventually reaches their edge of sanity, and I've been teetering for awhile.

I didn't get into theater for money (only an idiot would), but I can't pay my rent on the satisfaction of a job well done. And I don't want this even to be about money (see again: idiots in theater, above). You don't grow up in a home parented by a state employee and a teacher, yet think money is all there is to life. (Dear Mom and Dad: Thanks. This was a good thing.) I'm just a little tired of being stuck at work all the time, and being told I'm doing good work by people who don't always understand what exactly I do, and calling that enough.

I'm feeling antsy about life, but haven't figured out where that's leading me to jump next. (Or, maybe I'm supposed to just sit back. Working on it.)

going through last week's rehearsal notes

Why I'm Not An Actor (Reason #...um):
DIRECTOR: Want to go back and try that again?
ME: Oh, CRIPES, no!


HEADACHES:
* Director 1 talks with Director 2
* Director 1 announces Plan A
* SM agrees to Plan A
* Directors arrive at rehearsal
* SM tells Actors Plan A
* Director 1 tells Actors Plan B
* Actors get set for scene
* Director 2: "Is this C? Let's do Plan C."
* HEADACHE


There's nothing as awkward as one actor trying to vamp through a line that's supposed to be cut off by another actor...who is trying vainly to get her page turned.


Dear actor currently giving the costume designer copious ideas about what she will or will not wear for the show: please enjoy the equally copious stick pins that will be "accidentally" left in all of your costumes.

come on out here pineapple

This morning I was thinking about the guy that I always used to see at the bus stop, every workday morning for months. One day he couldn't find his card and didn't have any change, so he asked me to borrow a dollar "because I see you here everyday." I agreed, so of course this was the last time I ever saw him. I'm sure there's any number of rational reasons why he would disappear from my morning routine, but I prefer to see it as the weirdest long con ever.

I came into work this morning to find thank you cards from two of my BCPE kids. One thanked me for helping her find her halo once when it was lost. Sometimes you know why you do what you do. :)

AWESOME!*

I feel like crap (somewhat suddenly and without warning+), which would usually be okay with it being all almost tomorrow and thus time for sleeping ...

... except my laser-like skill of ALWAYS SEEING THE STUPID COCKROACH~ just kicked in, and I now feel extra crappy after chasing a bug around my living room until it was dead under one of my many shoes that I leave strewn around the apartment for just such a reason.^ So this is me drinking some of that immunity-boosting nonsense and eating crackers and hope that I can fall asleep soon and not think about the fact that I was going to wear those shoes tomorrow."




*Not actually awesome. This is called sarcasm, and readers of the blog should be familiar. If not, please leave now - this will just be confusing.

+This is totally not without warning. I normally snack constantly at my desk, but haven't for the past three days. My body is probably shutting down completely without the extra calories.

~A blessing and a curse: I know the suckers are dead, but thus can't fool myself into thinking that mine is the only apartment in Houston where they don't live. (Also I can't rest

^Nope. There are just too many of them to care. There are six pairs in this room alone, including the cowboy boots on the opposite couch.

"Psh. Not now, I won't.

posting here rather than Twitter to delay the panic among my actors

THE SCARIEST WORDS IN THE WORLD (regarding tonight's rehearsal): "...and I asked them, 'Don't you want an understudy to read that tonight?' and he said 'No, apparently [she's] just going to talk tonight.'

Here, Mr. Shane. Now we can discuss the Spice Girls.

But more specifically, you have no idea how much I'd love to hear if you have an opinion on the Spice Girls movie. In fact, I'd happily mail my copy north to you, just for such an occasion. (Somewhere, Merefin and Angelfish are giggling.)

I just finished reading our K4 Cinderella script. I wonder what it says about where I am in life that I'd rather Cindy end up with the Jester than the drip of a Prince. Why shouldn't she go for the person who actual works to improve her life (and points out that she has a fairy godmother!) rather than the guy who only pops up briefly AND uses the same line about sighing TWICE. Maybe it's because I'm not a cheesy line person (despite my unrelated love of this) but c'mon? "There's that draft again! ... people always sigh when they see something beautiful" is just awful.

I didn't think this through beforehand, but ha--excuse me while I go sweep and mop the stage. (What! I need to tape it out! ... If I can pretend to be a fairy tale character at the same time, why not? Clearly I'm not too mature yet.)

I'm gonna need to backdate something after I write this, because this wasn't how I wanted to start the year.

Last night, as I sat through forty minutes of back and forth "I don't know - what do you want to do?" (and the only answer in my brain was RETHINK MY LIFE CHOICES), I already knew this was not going to be an easy audition process. But, as of tonight, if I have to sit through an hour of hemming and hawing, "I don't know"s, and back in the day reminiscences every night after rehearsal, I'll quit this job by tech week. I just really can't deal with it anymore, not after dealing with those kids for three months, not after this many shows in a row. My last bit of flexibility went out the window in giving Mr. Walker a show he could be proud of this summer, and I've been coasting ever since.

Unrelated to any of the above (but don't we need a change of subject now?): my Sondheim book has somewhat ruined my pop music ear. I mean, nothing can totally kill my pop music ear (I fully expect myself to be the awesome 80 year old who can sing Spice Girls songs), but I can almost *feel* the off rhyme when a song tries to pull out, say, "car" and "arm." (The slurry country twang helps more than my typing, but still.)