bumblebee

Apparently all it takes to make me happy is a letter from a far away...and the enclosed stickers only sweeten it. Thanks, Sad Monkey.

I've discovered the black hole of no internet...

...and it is called my office, since the internet works (wired or plugged) in every other room of the building. I'm currently in the chapel/library/greenroom, where at least I get the benefit of a comfotable couch.

Things to do this weekend:
* pick up where I left off in the cleaning out the closet project, as the room currently looks like I'm about to move out of the dorms (lots of piles, lots of Rubbermaid containers, lots and lots of shoes)

* support Pixar and go to the movies?

* pull out the various craft projects that I've wanted to finish, all the more so from finding the odds and ends while cleaning

* stop being afraid to clean my oven (which is the first step toward cleaning the oven, while somehow not yet managing to clean it)

* finish proofing the playbill for Iowa, since I'm clearly not doing so right now

* watch all the Broadway-related programing I taped the past week that I've yet to tackle

* get the music from Passing Strange out of my head

* continue not biting nails, as this has been good progress so far

We have appointments to look at new apartments tomorrow.

It's wonderful how much discussing something with your mother can help to stop, reassess, and pull the stress out of a situation. Teenage Hannah--if you ever get a time machine and see this ahead of schedule--take note.

Unrelated (as I am wont to do): I am mad at Facebook for having a picture of a super cute dress in an ad that does not link directly to said dress, thus causing me to search through the full listings. I know you need to keep making money to continue delivering the cute vintage look, Mod Cloth, but could you cut a girl some slack?

another Anastacia fun fact: I used to practice vocal support by attempting to hold out the ending note of "Journey to the Past" longer than the onscreen singer

I think I like bruises because it reminds me I do more than a desk job. I liked bruises (not the receiving them, but the artistic after-effects) even before it was a job thing. There's something that feels very hearty Midwesterner about bruising. There's also something very "ow ow ow...can't cross my legs" about my present bruising (one left knee, one right thigh), but only because I didn't have the good sense to fall on something that wouldn't matter. Or, not fall at all.

Frankly, I wanted to expand this more, but I'm totally about to fall asleep and get carried away by the Texas mosquitos. As much fun as that might be (would it?), I should probably call it a night. The laptop does make a nice heating pad on my still sore leg, though.

I tried for hours to find this quote last night

It's really okay for people to get old and die because in heaven you get to play with all the balloons you ever lost.
-Amy Krouse Rosenthal

How frequently have I typed the word "ominously" that the spellcheck automatically takes out the extra m when I type it wrong?

You know what eats up a bunch of your workday? Not having to come in until eleven because you worked the sound board the night before. (Also, choosing the bus that would pause three stops later to wait for the Metro Police to remove the guy up front who was too drugged-out to pay attention to the driver.)

Sorry, I took a brief break to see if there were leftover pumpkin muffins in the dressing room across the hall. There were not. Now I need to convince myself to go forage for leftover development event food in the fridge, because taking a lunch break is another way to speed along the end of the day.

sitting by the pool, letting the humidity dry my hair

I keep thinking I've written a new post, only to be reminded that I've only drafted half-thought ideas in the last few days (and haven't posted any of them yet - thank you, brain).

It's weird to not have the immediate demands of a show in performance everyday...which is likely why I volunteered to ASM the second company performance. I no longer handle "work in your own time" projects quite so well now that I don't eventually need to turn them in for a grade. (Things to do this summer: work on the company SM handbook, eventually enter in next season's calendar, retype scripts or else conquer the new copy machine)

At this rate, I'm never going to get that second batch of brownies done. Sorry, world.

it must be approaching payday...all I do is think about food

If my peanut butter (that I KNOW I purchased) isn't in my pantry, and isn't in my desk at work, where did it go? Is it taking a field trip with an unopened jar of queso and a seldom used tin of pepper to see the big city? I hate to tell you, various condiments and foodstuffs, but you're already in the big city.

Clearly someone was attempting to save my bank account, as the whole world neglected to tell me that HEB sells Jaffa cakes, the chocoately-orangey-Britishy-cakes that will now bankrupt me five dollars at a time.

Note to self: even if it's the one on sale, avoid the devil's food cake mix with pudding in the batter because brownies generally mean brownies, not molten piles of hot chocolately half-heartedly held together with caramel. It still tastes delicious, but it's much harder to play cards with one hand covered in chocolate.

....also

Will: the book I was talking about was "Watching the English."

I wished Good Morning America had some sort of listener call in line this morning, because I wanted to yell at them that their interrpetation of the LOST finale was so completely opposite of what [I believe] had really gone down.

Thank you, sun, for going behind that cloud.

life, lately

The previous post became oddly predictive, as I officially became one of those stage managers as of about yesterday evening. I don't know where that video file will go, but I need a copy. (No ponies in my version, though.)

We closed the children's show, and season, as of this afternoon. I'm sorta out of a job until the fall, as we all know me sitting at a desk all summer is going to be more about multi-hour games of Spider Solitaire or worse, box office coverage. While I'm plotting all sorts of projects at the moment, I don't know how many will actually come to fruition.

"Come to fruition" is a funny sounding phrase.

Some other quick takes:
* I enjoyed Zombieland way more than I thought I would, despite the (obviously) large number of zombies involved. I did have to follow it with happy fluff before I could go to bed, and naturally avoid the bathroom. (Do we all remember when I used to be sure I would someday find a zombie in my shower? Oh, college days.)

* Somebody needs to get me a copy of Tim Minchin's Matilda soundtrack, because I cannot just live on Rock and Roll Nerd forever. Also, if someone would like to ship me across ponds and get me a job with the original company staging of Tim Minchin's Matilda, that would be an even bigger thanks.

* I cannot keep track of the number of nights I've fallen asleep to the same "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" podcast, and don't feel inclined to check the play count. I'll finish you someday, April 20th!

* Between all the gift cards currently in my possession (and that lovely $5 off anything coupon from Borders sitting in my inbox), how do I not have a package coming my way from an internet site? Why am I missing out on package tracking?

* I'm out of items.

Oh Dear.

So what's truly terrifying about the about the video of large, live action My Little Ponies lip-syncing to Dreamgirls and Wicked aren't so much the large, live action ponies as the internal light cues, quality sound system, and use of set piece as ramp mean there was a (somewhat demented) stage manager involved with this process, and we all know I'd be the sort of SM to approve my actors making a gift video like this.

I have nothing to say, but will treat you to saved pictures from my phone instead.

And how fun, no commentary either! (Why? Mostly because I've forgotten what posted in what order, and don't feel inclined to check.)

the nothing much to post post

It's starting to spit rain (of course it is, I already watered my plants), so I should maybe not bother with posting when I don't have anything special to say.

Our kitchen is no longer covered in water, and our sink has stopped producing soil, so that's two pluses. I'm not sure how soil gushing up from our drain has been the most panic-inducing part of my week (which included a missing Cheshire Cat costume found fifteen minutes before curtain and a possible impending director-going-on-as-understudy in the morning), but there you have it. Maybe because it made me wonder if I'd been drowning plants in the sink while sleeping?

You know what constantly makes me happy? This clip.

I can tell they've freshly chlorined the pool becuase sitting here is making me slightly ill. Perhaps the rain will fix that.

At first I was thrilled with the approximately 12.5 seconds it takes to brush my newly-shortened hair in the morning...until I realized that all the extra attention it's receiving makes me want to (*gasp*) style and fluff and generally girl-ify my hair. I give it two weeks before I stop caring again.

drip drip drip

THANKS

I know we all know that face I make when I get fussed over (see, for example, this morning when my cast wished me a happy birthday), but I really do appreciate the well-wishes, cards left for me to find, free ice cream (lit on fire!), whistle solos, drum sets assembled while the pianist tried to play Wipe-out, time to repot plants, free parking after 6 p.m., a particularly good Neil Diamond impersonation, the classic movie Clue, musical text messages, crunchy quesadillas, birthday mad libs, British miniseries in the mail, borrowed cars for the evening, the homemade dancing celery music video, and the watermelon Blow-Pop from the House of Blues restroom (because like I'm going to choose from their selection of perfumes when there's candy to be had).

I said it elsewhere, but I'll repeat it: if the rest of the year matches the one day trend, twenty-six is going to be awesome.

but tomorrow/there'll be sun

I forgot about this at the time, but it keeps popping back into my brain (probably because it's such a thing that I would do myself). When the Russian adoption thing first broke a couple weeks ago, one of the commentators actually used the phrase "bet you bottom dollar" (featured prominently in the musical "Annie"), and I could hear her mentally say "check! bet won!" over the rest of the segment.

At this point, I might as well stay outside, since my keyboard hasn't shorted out already from the amount of rain on the keys.

I'm a bit glad that I hadn't watered my plants yet tonight, seeing as they'll probably all be flooded by morning with or without my efforts. (Have I mentioned that most of my wee tiny seeds have sprouted into somewhat less tiny green leaf things? I'm alternatingly really happy that all but one pot has actually managed to grown and filled with dread of all the repotting I need to do since more seeds forced their way to the surface than I thought would survive. Most days I sit at work and dream of all the garden work I would rather be doing....and then watch Netflix once I get home. I'm a bad plant mommy.)

There seems to be some sort of sing-a-long taking place around the corner from where I'm sitting. Perhaps what I thought wasn't grilling actually is grilling somewhere. What? Go to bed, Hannah.

There's a woman out here having some sort of soda machine emergency. Involves running, lots and lots of running. (Also loud profanity and a possible dog.)

And to think I didn't want to go to the mall because I didn't want to be around crazy people.

I'm actually outside tonight not for fake farming (though I'll do that as well) or email checking, but to watch fanvids of a British TV show that will likely end in a not-to-be-continued cliffhanger with the season finale next week. I've kinda earned it, as I finally potted the rest of my plants (after engineering pots out of plastic party candy dishes and queso lids) and ate a meal a real grown-up would cook.

BTW, why is it that I can eat a microwave pizza and feel just dandy, but after cooking a pan full of fried chicken and a baked potato, need to refuel after an hour? Does the time put into the cooking somehow lessen the fulfilment of the meal? Because I'd think it was the opposite.

They're working on our parking lot right now (suddenly, all the people who've driven myself or DD home lately shouted a hallelujah), which has the great perk of the fire-entrance fence ten feet from our door is open for the construction trucks to get around. What's that, five minutes I can save tomorrow by not having to go out and around the front half of our building? Why, yes, I will use you to sleep later.

This slightly stream of consciousness post brought to you by the best plate of fried chicken I've made yet. Also, the letter U.

I can't wait for it to be warm enough to swim in the evenings.

Right now, it's pretty BRR GO INSIDE by the pool, but it's the closest wi-fi this side of Westheimer, and I'm certainly not going to the mall at this hour.

I bought party decoration cups to use as planters, seeing as I ended up with more seeds than pots. Of course, then I ate dinner and watched TV and organized some computer files and did all manner of inside things that prevented me from actually putting Operation: Fancy Pots into action.

(What is with me and the organizing of computer files? Can I get that as a job? Because it sometimes feels like I don't do anything on my computer but rearrange the way I'd access the files I'm not accessing.)

I like that the first full afternoon I have in my office after tech week and opening consisted of my computer making a RRRRing sound of death and a higher-up wondering why I hadn't had the time to get next year's schedule to the box office yet. Boo. Shifts Sudoku for the Mainstage did get accomplished, so hurrah.

Finally, I just read the error message on my farmville (yes, sorry) page as "...investigating reports of loading issues, neighbors missing, and pestilence."

Did you know I was still alive?

Because if all you knew about me came from my internet activity, you'd be looking for a pulse by now.

It's been a long tech week (though surely not as long for me as it has been for others), but really all I wanted to do was pot some plants. I finally managed that this afternoon, after both a dress/tech rehearsal in the morning and a birthday party booking in the afternoon. We played croquet with inflatable flamingos. It didn't work well, but was highly entertaining to watch.

[excuse me for a moment, as I'm slightly hit on by someone at the complex for a barbeque up front]

Anyway. The show is finally in a spot where it looks like a show, which is always a good point. There's a part of me always fairly amazed that a show comes together...while the other half never doubted that it would. I'm not going to think any more about it (well, maybe I'll edit a bit more on the ETC guide) until Monday morning, so I guess that means it's time for faux-farming.

TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET

What's extra sad about waking up this early is that my brain is about 85% likely not to think about falling asleep tonight until 11:30ish. (please, please, please brain, prove me wrong)

Dear Ants, I would be much less likely to squish you to deathville if you wouldn't bite me between my toes. Love, Hannah

Why between the toes? It boggles the brain.

I'm so glad that I picked up on the urge to weed/sweep/generally spruce our backyard (such as it is) when I did, because this week has been the perfect "sitting outside enjoying life" weather. Of course, it's also made me want to put out some bird feeders, buy some plants that have already made it past the seed stage and would therefore already be blooming, and possibly buy a tree. Did you know that I've spent quite a bit of time lately wondering how affective it would be to spread out a bunch of potting soil and scatter some wildflowers, just to fill in the otherwise weedy parts of the yard? Clearly, I'm great at thinking in moderation and practicality lately.

Only somewhat related (per usual): what I miss most about having a real backyard (as in, more than my 20'x5' along the back of the apartment) is a hose hooked up to an outdoor faucet for that crisp, metallicy taste of summer.

(that I tend to finish past midnight doesn't help, either)

When I wake up the day after with the ceiling fan on, circulating the smell of fresh laundry from all the pieces that weren't quite dry upon coming out of the dryer (and thus are hanging, draped across many ledges in my room), I feel like I'm back at the dorms.

Actually, I *am* partial to rooftops.

I was at first utterly perplexed, and then blissfully happy when I realized that one of the songs on near-constant repeat in my home life right now (Freelance Whales - Hannah) had magically ended up in my iTunes library as part of a free playlist download before I even knew it existed.

Thanks, Ugly Betty green screen, for sort of showing London.

I ordered new glasses this afternoon, and would happily post pictures here if I could get the website to save a large enough clip. They both meet Stormy approval, so you know they must be good.

If nothing else, it'll be nice to wear glasses with both nose pads, no scratches, and unchipped edges.

I made the Weatherly potato soup recipe tonight, and it probably wouldn't turned out better if I had actually followed it as written (rather than mixing everything at once, leaving little flour-butter clumps). The extra cheese was a good idea, though, as it always turns out to be.

Excuse me while I try to finally (finally FINALLY!) finish writing an overdue letter. (It's all drafted, Sad Monkey, I just have pull it all together into one place...preferably with a stamp on it.)

It's Rex Manning Day!

(Actually, it's Dog the Bounty Hunter Day at the local Borders, but (1) I've wanted to watch Empire Records for several days now and just haven't taken the time, and (2) I don't really fit with the Dog crowd anyway, judging by the folks wandering around the store, killing time after picking up their book signing copy of his latest.)

I'd already promised myself an end-of-run present for the delightful PITLOWV, though the Miller performance went so well today was its own bonus. (Sidenote: if an actor is going to sweat out his mic pack, at least it allows me to be on both headset and crew walkie-talkie, live mixing mic sounds on the not-quite-quarter of a million dollars sound board. It's nice to have stage managment rock star moments to remind me that I do love what I do, long hours and all.) After spending nearly two hours there, some things to love about the local Borders:

* 40% off coupon in my inbox the same day I was going to buy something no matter what? Don't mind if I do.

* Live Flogging Molly? On sale? The only thing better was the cashier, who will be purchasing his own copy. Also, I should apparently listen to more of the Pogues and Dubliners.

* Hurrah for the last copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox, the actual reason I was in the store!

* Props to Steve and Mark, who told me to walk off with the mislabeled to $9 CD when I took it to them (with a properly labeled $19 one) in honor of Dog the Bounty Hunter Day. Congratulations, you two are the reason I bought an extra CD.

this is called "I couldn't sleep anymore, but I certainly wasn't getting out of bed yet"

Just one day left of the prairie, which is probably good for my sanity. If this company has taught me anything, it's that maybe I wouldn't enjoy stage managing the same show for twenty years. (Also, it's taught me how *not* to be able to call shows like a regular SM anymore, as I'm used to running lights and only calling sound....and then have a brain freeze whenever I get to call two things at once.)

If I wasn't going to (hopefully) spend the afternoon after today's show asleep somewhere in the theater, I'd write down everything helpful about taking a show to Miller. If I can save someone (not even myself, but someone) a bit of the stress I've had this week over how things were going to go down, that'd be lovely. Apparently the only thing I really retained in the two years since we were last at the outdoor theater are the faces of the two sound guys, where the dressing rooms are, and that stage hands enjoy sassing the stage manager. (One of these I knew before, since they also enjoy it when the stage manager sasses back.)

"Maria! Try and forget you're a stage manager for once!"

Why am I watching something on TV that I have on DVD? Becuase I don't have the energy to leave my couch for the bookshelf ten feet behind me. I had forgotten how much I love "Slings and Arrows." (Season Two, when the apprentice SM is reading all the stage directions, including "long pause," is hysterical because I used to be that person.)

My online account is telling me that I blew through my text messages through the month already. It reset two days ago. I guess it counts each text per receiver, and not the individual text itself? (That's okay, I'll eat the extra five dollars to upgrade in honor of Jaydan Zachson, 9lbs. 10oz. and his crazy complicated labor this weekend.)

(Incidentally, I seem to always be referring to him as "Jaydan Zachson, 9lbs. 10oz.," and I'm not sure why.)

Like (somewhat consistent) magic, it seems St. Luke's won't give up the Rotunda on the last weekend of February again....which should coincide with Oscars weekend once more.

Excuse while I [1] finish this season of Slings and Arrows (Season 2! Mackers!) and [2] finish a letter I've been putting off for two months.

welcome in, welcome in/shame about the weather

I keep thinking I hear someone else in the theater with me, clunking doors and walking about. Instead of checking, though, I just blast my music louder to try and drown out, I don't know, the sound of ghosts or whatever. If someone actually is hear (and somehow reading my blog at the same time), please just let me know you're here. I don't really care enough to check, but it'd be nice to know.

I love finding the sour cream pocket of the Jason's baked potato. Also, kudos to my brain for requesting extra cheese, meaning I can add it in after the layer of toppings has already been consumed. High five, self!

My phone now plays the "We Just Got a Letter" song from Blue's Clues whenever a text comes in, so I've listen to a lot of Steve lately. If only he could finally release his next (not children's show) album, I could rock out to that instead of British boys.

scuttlebutt

I'm probably at the point where I should perhaps do something real about my shoulder, as this is the umpteenth time I've sat on the couch with a heating pad balance somewhere between shoulder blades and neck. (P.S. - thanks for the heating pad for Christmas, Grandma!) When brushing your hair causes shooting pain, no matter where, you probably need to bring about some changes in your life.

Things to change: stop shuffling set pieces, stop carrying heavy bags to and from various locations, remove permament resident stress monster (hi, Leroy!)

What I'll do instead: eh, maybe get a new ringtone

toasted not fried

The veggie chips aren't nearly as good as the sour cream and onion ones.

I feel like I'm on cough syrup, which would be awesome if I actually were. Most of the afternoon has been a strange, turn-your-head-too-fast-and-wait-for-your-brain-to-catch-up-again haze. It made some parts more entertaining, and it made some parts want me to burst into tears. Funsies, as Deb would say.

This is two days in a row that I've used the Foreman grill that I received for Christmas years ago. That makes it two more times that it's been used since Jessica moved out. I would've enjoyed it more if I felt inclined to do more than lay on the couch sipping milk and watching whatever's in from Netflix (or else Wonderfalls, haven't decided yet).

fun fact: I named my poor unused guitar Julia

Abby told me I should post about my dream about Colin Firth and the vampires, but now it's entirely too late/early, and all I really want to do is listen to The Beatles' Julia on repeat until I fall asleep in, hopefully, two minutes.

Because all that reminds me...I sort of want to save into one big word file all the blog posts, Facebook statuses, and Twitter tweets I've ever created, all in chronological order, just to have one huge record of my life the past eight or so years that I've been documenting my life online. Clearly I don't have enough to do already.

(hit repeat button [again] on player, press publish button, put laptop into sleep)

"and off to his lair each child he'll drag"

Fun fact: for most of the past month I've had "The Green Eyed Dragon," a song I sang for high school district music contest, stuck in my head off and on. While I remembered a remarkable portion of the music (working up a solo for Mrs. Cox will do that to your brain, even eight years later), it wasn't until today that I managed to track down the missing line mid-chorus that I've been hehmm-hum-hmmm-ing three times per song.

Further fun fact: somehow most internet folk lyric sites leave out the same three lines in the chorus, which just happen to include the line I've been missing, despite the fact that it would screw up the entire rhythm of the song

Furthest fun fact: you can probably catch me singing it to myself every morning, around 8:30ish, as I prep the Rotunda for the morning show.

Did anyone else notice that I apparently used Twitter today to have conversations with people while sitting in the box office?

I'm not quite certain how or why my entire self (physical and emotional) took a nosedive yesterday evening around five, but it certainly did and I apologize to all those who had to deal with me.

Because, interestingly enough, there is no situation in which I can't make myself feel worse, a brief list of all the ways that led to me hugging a manatee in a dark living room yesterday evening: feeling too bad to go to church, feeling bad about not going to church, getting emotional while reading a book about discerning God's will (to make up for not being at church), putting off dinner, discovering I'm likely too short to be a flight attendant (did anyone else know this was plan B?), the reminder that most stage management jobs are freelance and not a solid gig like I currently have, picking at the same scab, realizing I needed something to hug and only having access to a manatee. So, sadly, that's why I wasn't at an Oscar party; I would've been the one in the corner, crying every time I saw one of the Pixar people wearing their adventure badges.

Despite the lovely paragraph above, I'm feeling quite better today, though somewhat perplexed at what brought on the hurricane of emotions at all. Perhaps the popcorn gut of the day before had worked its way up into my brain?

Unrelated, but related in helping me feel better: how great is it that Joy Sikorski has a new book?

Noisettes - Never Forget You (on repeat)

I love it when you know just one song from a group, chance the odds and pick up the CD, and it turns out AWESOME. Way to be, Brit rockers.

The problem with having internet connection at home (however spotty it may be) is that you no longer have an excuse to not notice work emails outside of the office. The problem with spotty internet connection is that it sometimes eats your blog post the first time you draft it.

Anyway.

Is "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen" the most ridiculous movie of the past year? Please check one of the following:
* Yes.
* Yes.
* Did you see Megan Fox and her pet Decepticon-turned-Autobot? YES.

Oh, the things I get to see when fulfilling my goal to watch as many Oscar noms as possible. The only amusing thing was Rainn Wilson, and his four minutes was a very brief part of this 150+ running time. Shia LeBeouf, I expect better from you.

two actually related things (though only in my head)

I want to itch the scab (because it is itchy), but--when I do--the scab tends to fall off leaving the not-yet-healed skin exposed underneath, which is of course still itchy as well, and then I scratch that. Until it bleeds. This has been an ongoing cycle for weeks. (Apologies for the grossness and incredibly awkward punctuation.)


There's a game my brain likes to play called "Where Is My Watch?" The way you play is you become late for the bus in the morning as you search for your watch, and eventually stumble upon it in one of four usual places. (These four are (1) next to the bathroom sink, (2) on the rolling drawers next to my bed, (3) tucked under a magazine on the living room coffee table, (4) a bonus round unknown location that eventually forces you out the door sans clockware (the bonus evidently comes from creating the word "clockware").


Perhaps, sidenote speaking, I should mention that I ate cake for dinner ... and suddenly this post makes more sense.

TO DO

* laundry

* clean room

* eat something other than popcorn (yay best picture showcase!)

* finish (ridiculously overdue) Sad Monkey letter

* sort recyclables

* new glasses!

I always tear up when the gold medalist sings along with their nation anthem at the medal ceremony.

Quote saved in my phone, as typed in: If lions can be cute, I thought he was cute. Sarah (adult Simba) 12.18

I should get around to download some music, if for no other reason than I've run out of room in my phone's memo feature and have branched into the text message drafts box.

Did you know that the only thing keeping me from gaining twenty zillion pounds is that I'm unable to open a new jar of queso, even after all this time?

I cannot not stop and listen to Eva Cassidy's "Fields of Gold" whenever my computer (still unnamed!) chooses to pull it up.

Did I totally just do a post of twitter-type items? Survey says yes! (I'm going to bed.)

(told you the constant posting would cease soon)

My iTunes is playing some floaty song from their free holiday mix that I've apparently played three times before (and yet had no idea that I'd ever heard this song before).

(Don't worry, probably everything I write today will be disjointed and not match up with the following paragraph.)

While grocery shopping on Friday--which only occurred so I could prepurchase my Best Picture Showcase tickets at the discount rate. (Brief shout-out to AMC employee Paul, who had no idea what I was talking about when I came in [Discount? Showcase? Tickets two weeks in the future?] and fiddled with the computer until his screen matched my information. Where did this sentence start?), I picked up egg rolls for my Chinese New Year lunch today. I'll celebrate Valentine's later, when the candy goes on sale.

Yesterday was the fourth (fourth! sweet passage of time save us!) anniversary of spading, or "loving you so much it's upside down and with a stick." (Why, yes, there was lack of sleep involved in this quote/emotion/whatever.) I continue to not understand why more people don't get behind this concept whenever I try to introduce it to new folk. How can you not support an emotion so strong it reverses gravity and must be plugged to prevent overflowing? Maybe everyone who wasn't there at the slaphappy time (all those not named Angelfish and Merefin) immediately conjures up Bob Barker asking us to control the pet population with spaying? Because I could see where that would create a vastly different feeling than the one introduced by playing card spades.

Here's my one profound thought for the day (though somewhat negated by the fact that it came from a dream I was having about Kelly Clarkson and Keats): In a way, we will never be truly, endlessly, blissfully happy until we meet our Lord in Heaven. In the meantime, everything we do will still have a tinge of sadness. (Do with that what you will. I think Keats was trying to woo Fanny Brice with it, but Kelly kept singing. That'll teach me to keep music playing while I sleep.)

This post apparently brought to you by 2 a.m., because this is how I write (and especially punctuate) at that time of day, no matter what time it actually is at the moment.

with the giant scary chicken!

Occasionally I'll break out a "cheap-cheap, fun-fun" from the ubiquitous St. Louis* area commercial for Dirt Cheap, and I'm always a little sad that nobody from Texas gets the reference.



(*Things I that remind me of St. Louis: Saturday afternoon Cardinal games on channel 11, eating Ted Drews frozen custard while waiting in line for the Muny free seats, cheapo commercials for Dirt Cheap and Becky's Carpet and Tile Superstore)

I will not always post this often.

I was thinking about this as I--well, not quite frantically--added nominated movies to my Netflix queue (after upping my DVD-at-a-time amount). I think I'm so very obsessed with movie award shows, the Oscars in particular, because I have the ability to (with a bit of effort) see as many as the nominations as possible. I've never seen any Tony nominees before the award show itself, as much as I love watching the Tonys, and so many popular music nominees I could take or leave. Movies are an accessible thing, especially in my large, multi-cinema city. Besides, it's nice to sometimes see sturdy films rather than just Center Stage for the twenty-third time.

(Not that I'm ragging on Center Stage; it's a different kind of enjoyable film experience.)


Only related in that it was occuring while I was already awake and waiting for the live stream to be live: I don't think any predictions of six more weeks of winter really affects life in Texas, do you? And was it just me, or did the official holding Phil bear a striking appearance to Bill Murray?

meanwhile, the news talks about the remake of "We Are the World"

Who's the crazy person who woke up early to watch the live feed of the Oscar nominations? (Which currently consists of people finding seats and an occasional piercing beep?)

Meanwhile, please do as I do and check out the Razzies nominations and this, the first interview with Bill Watterson in fifteen years.

February's going to be a good month, I can feel it.

(I don't care that my day off has been half spent taking care of work issues and I burned my chicken. Tomorrow is Groundhog Day, Oscar nominations, and the premiere of Lost. This month is already trying to make things up to me.)

Unrelated, the page of quotes (dated 1/11/10) pulled out my jeans pocket after striking the Christmas show. Again, no explanation and no further commentary. Why not? (Well, one thing: of course we're talking about the monkey statue from Legends of the Hidden Temple.)

There was hate in the tape ball. -Stormy

I'm nervous all the time.
Like a Chihuahua? (gets hit with bottle)
I like Chihuahuas! Yo quiero Chihuahuas! -Rebecca/Jason B.

I bet you Jesus could put together the monkey. -Brad

Jesus put together the monkey for you...that's why it took three days. -Will

and then I really need to go to bed before I fall over

(I typed this up last night and then apparently fell asleep before I managed to press the "publish post" button. Oh well.)

Because I've learned the best way to remember what you wrote on your hand is to write it down somewhere else (preferably more permanent) as soon as possible, I give you select quotes from this evening, with absolutely no explanation:

I don't want to lose even one of these cheeks. -Deb

You know there's no iced tea in that...? -Mandy

You need to put up your flickr pictures as you do them because sitting in my house and it's all I live for. -Christy

Now you look like a hieroglyphic. -Kat

Don't I live in Texas to avoid weather like this?

I like the rain, but not when it's mid-thirties outsides. I think that calls for a shower after rehearsal so I don't freeze waiting for a Saturday morning bus.

well, that's disheartening

After reading Merefin's joyful "could possibly be moving to London" post, I once more felt inspired to look up information for myself about hopping ponds. (Side note: it doesn't take something that blatant to get me to search for London moving information).

My new biggest problem with all the economy crap is not the dollar/pound ratio that ate my savings this summer, but the fact that it would be nearly impossible for me to get a job right now as I have no prior international experience and stage managers aren't quite up the list with doctors as a "must have" vocation.

So....all you people I know who have accomplished this already: how do I go about becoming a stage manager for a cruise line show?

(This post sponsered by some two year old She&Him concert that I'm streaming, which--as happy bouncy as it is--actually makes this not a big deal.)

not really a newsflash, but it makes me smile

I still receive emails from "Plow&Hearth" catalog from sophomore year when Melissa and I signed-up all our dorm friends to receive random catalogs from strange vendors.

and a partridge in a pear tree

(for once, even *I* don't understand the randomness of the subject title, but that's what I felt like putting)

I ended rehearsal last night feeling mildly dizzy, and now I just feel like my stomach has sunk out of my body, so I'm apparently continuing my record this season of only being sick when I can't stop to do anything about it.

Also, I'll probably not help myself by eating the package of goodies from my Mamita that arrived at the theater while I was at the Rotunda yesterday afternoon.

Someday, my Pushing Daisies DVD set, I'll actually get around to watching you all again like I tell myself every evening.

coupons ready to go and everything

*Of course* I am the person who gets her credit card locked while trying to activate the new, freshly-extended-expiration card because she suddenly can't remember her PIN.

*Of course* the charming, small-town feel bank is not open on the weekend by the time I call on Saturday afternoon to make it unlocked.

*Of course* I will now be eating ramen for the rest of the weekend...ooh, and a magically discovered can of ravioli.


(Edited to add: I take back the part about the ravioli being magic, and would like to go back to somewhat-ill-feeling sleep now.)

thank you, Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, for finally showing me the error of my ways

The *squee* sound half of Houston just heard was me finally, finally starting out trying to make a fried egg and successfully ending with a fried egg.

There was jumping involved, as is only right.

(Incidentally, the *buh!* sound made a few minutes later would be when 1/3 of the pepper graced the top of my egg all in the same one inch area. It's okay, it spreads.)

my current mood board says I'm "distracted," but that's only because people will talk to me more if I change it to "grouchy"

I keep redrafting an email because, even if the receipient wouldn't pick up on it, I know that's currently filled with sarcastic bitterness, and I'd feel bad later if I sent it as-is.

I think I'm supposed to stop wearing headbands because they keep giving me headaches along with the usual pulled back hair.

I'm not sure why, but I like the German version of "Monsoon" better than the English translation. Only Keely will know what I'm talking about, and she'll likely agree.

Hey! I used to have a gypsy moth trap just south of that bridge!

In a strange crash of my two worlds, BBC World News America is currently broadcasting a story set in Franklin County, specifically Washington, MO.

As a side note, I appreciate that they're not portraying any of these people as rural hicks (though they did have an interview with a Jedidiah).

killing time, watching mashups

My no-longer-wishing-to-stay-open eyes are trying to tell me to go to sleep, but I'm twenty-seven minutes from my current file transfer being complete and--seeing as Merv will no longer allow me to copy more than one file folder at once--I could then start the next before conking out completely.

I've only known it for about two hours, but I'm already mildly obsessed with DJ Earworm's U2/Mariah Carey/Beatles/Supremes "Together As One" mash-aup. Also, I'd fall asleep to "L'eau de Rose" every night if I didn't think it would give me weirder dreams than I already have.

I seem to be dreaming about the same name a bunch lately (not any person I've known, just the name itself). I'm trying not to take it as any sign, but shooting extra prayers their (all of the S.s!) way, just in case. More details later if it turns into something other than weirding myself out, especially when I should be asleep anyway.

Twenty-one minutes left. Blackjack!

plus one giant manatee

I'm not sure what I'm dreamed about last night, but I woke up in a fort of the pillows on my bed, and that's certainly not how I fell asleep.

I love many things about my job, but today I cannot express how happy I am that I'm still in my pajamas (and under my blankets even) at twenty 'til noon.

clearly, show research is holding my attention

I've had a mash-up of Switchfoot's "Needle and Haystack Life" and "Hello Hurricane" playing off and on in my head for the past several days, and it's so good I wish I could download it somewhere.

"Let's file that under 'things not to do.'"

The nice thing about this noodle bowl is that it's so very, very hot I have to eat it slowly.

I've been listening to the Hero Squad soundtrack, which makes for some unexpected thinking about how much I've changed in one year thoughts. I don't feel inclined to go into such for the interneticus world, but 2009 was an up and down year for me.

Somewhat related to that: how dare the Henson Company never have any openings whenever I think to check?

Every once in awhile, I remember that I have a full weekend off again (in just two! days!)...and then I recall the conversation another company member had with her (non-company member) husband about how excited she was to have a full weekend off.
PTB: I get two days off this weekend!
KB: You mean like normal people?

Since my typewriter is still here on my work desk (waiting to start its life as a theater star/prop), it feels more than ever like I'm at my college desk, procrastinating on papers.

I should name this heating pad because we've been spending lots of quality time together lately.

I was going to clean up my room this evening (seeing as it's still in the shambles of packing to leave/unpacking once back from Christmas), but instead I spent the past hour and a half face first into my bed, heating pad balanced in the sweet spot of shoulder/arm/back and listening to NPR podcasts. I'm not sure that my 2010 is getting off to an exciting start, but it's certainly been an informed year thus far.

Thanks, "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me..." for helping me enjoy the news.

getting lots of mileage out of the flipped ponytails

Perhaps I didn't clean out my cup sufficiently to remove all the orange juice from this morning, but this Diet Coke (the only knob currently installed on the Grace soda machine) tastes an awful lot like cough syrup. In a way, that's one way to fool my brain into thinking it's getting *medicine. However, it's also a crummy way to eat your alfredo noodles.



*Note for Mother (because she'll be concerned): I don't have a cough, but do have lots of stuff stuck in my throat. Meds help, and make me funny and loopy!

inexplicably, my knee is now throbbing

I'd like to think that someday I would feel like a normal, healthy human being again, but I probably won't accomplish that while I work in theater.

Other (slightly more positive) things I would miss out on if I were not in theater:
* spending the work day holding up walls while other people unscrew them, then getting to eat free pizza

* helping people in and out of mascot costumes

* being in a mascot costume

* supporting the post-it industry

* taking multi-hour meetings about the placement of light and sound cues in a forty minute long children's show

* explaining to small children how the "brick" walkway turns into a garden (and isn't really brick to begin with)

twice in one day!

A few things that have amused me this afternoon:

* email from the Houston Museum of Fine Arts: "The Moon Closes This Sunday!"

* person who wasn't familiar with Bohemian Rhapsody, but knew the words to Copacabana

* finding a page of quotes from a photo call senior year at Truman inexplicably left at the back of my scheduling desk (also, still funny to me four years later: "Hannah? I just like saying your name. Say my name, say my name! Ha! Two barrels straight through!" Ten shiny points to anyone else who gets the last part.)

I'm not actually sure that there's anybody else in the building (besides Sissy, because Sissy is always here), but I'm certainly not going to check while I wait for programs to load.

You don't hear this often in Texas, but I need to move somewhere warmer. I'm tired of my nose either being a fountain or a clogged drain. I like it better with nothing in it but air.

My ipod is playing Come Rain or Come Shine, which helps. Thanks for caring, Peaseblossom.

I still haven't named my laptop. Huh. (Of course, I only took the plastic sheet off the cover yesterday, so I'm gradually getting into the ownership of it, I guess.)

Per usual, I've put off grocery shopping again, and will thusly eat pop tarts for lunch today.

There was no hot water in my apartment this morning, which I assume is a byproduct of the winter freeze that hit overnight. If we were going to freeze over, couldn't we at least had the decency to freeze enough that I didn't have to come in with dirty hair?

I pulled up a window, and then forgot about it.

Thank you, lovely local wi-fi spot that's just strong enough to also hit my apartment (but only the far side of the couch).

Things I want to do this week:
clean the stove
reorganize the DVDs
sweep the kitchen
clear out the closet
finish reading the backed up newspapers from December

Things I'll likely accomplish:
watch the Doctor Who finale
reorganize the DVDs
hang new things up in the closet

Close enough, I guess.

one last last thing (or, how can the watch I've been wearing for over a year give me a rash now?!)

I wanted to get one last thing down before the year popped out. Even if it's how I want to try and live my life for 2010 (and beyond), it was a 2009 epiphany. I've been fighting so much this year (some on, most off the blog) trying to figure out where I want to be, what I want to be doing, what I want want want. But the important thing isn't figuring out what I want, it's discovering what God needs from my life. If I, Hannah, want something out of life that doesn't gel with God's plan for me, I don't want to want that anymore.

Of course, the harder part is separating my wants from His needs. But at least I now have a mantra to go to when my brain starts getting jumbled: not what I want/what You need.

gurgle gurgle blizzard

It's (of course!) only now that I remember all the Soup Labels for Education (TM) that I've been saving for the past six months...still sitting in the kitchen drawer.

Semi-related (as I would only be bringing the labels somewhere if it were northland to family/teacher people): I'm a little concerned that my mother seems to think my flight lands at 11:50, as it'll actually be on the ground forty minutes earlier (pending actual ability to fly tonight). The Kansas City Airport is one of the coldest places I've ever been (probably because it's all breathtaking--and draft inducing--windows). I'm packing all sorts of layers, as we might just drive straight from the airport to Iowa, but that doesn't mean I want to use them.

P.S. - Thanks, Texas, for the excellent help you've provided in getting me ready for northern weather. That sudden burst of seventy degrees days will really come in handy.

per usual whenever I write something in a hurry, blogger ate the first version of this post

This is the year that I became crappy at posting. It's also the first year I haven't had internet access outside of work (up until now with the laptop meets food court). Find your own corrolation.

As this might be my last post of December, 2009, and the current decade, I decided to do something different from my usual end of the year list. (Unrelated: how great is Switchfoot's "Hello Hurricane?" Call that the music of version two of this post.) Here I present my year in quotes:

JANURAY
Never point the mace at the face. It rhymes, so don't do it. -Will, fight rehearsal

FEBRUARY
I could handle an arranged marriage with Jesse. I’d kill him and remarry. -Kat (there's probably a better option, but it made me giggle more than a little)

MARCH
What if Wilbur is like Pinocchio and he learns to be a real boy and grows up into the Narrator? -Marty, Charlotte's Web character rehearsal

APRIL
Ta-Daa has brought both joy and fear to kids and that was my plan. -Paul

MAY
All we need is a little raid, spray down the spider, speed this along... -Jen, the director herself, a bit tired of Charlotte's Web

JUNE
You know who else didn’t pause for the flood? Everyone else on Earth besides Noah.
-Michael, ASM for the rainbow show, as an actor refused to pause for a sound cue again

JULY
TRAVIS: Hey, Hannah...London!
HANNAH: [bounces up and down] (pre-trip)

AUGUST
Let me tell you about Ric... -Lee, post-Spotlighter, and all in the delivery

SEPTEMBER
We all speak in sarcasm; it’s a spiritual gift these days.
Amen! -Will/Stormy

OCTOBER
I’m not far along enough to be un-pregnant. -Natalie

NOVEMBER
I'm in my stompin' boots! -Hannah

DECEMBER
Eat that, global warming! -Stormy, playing in Houston snow

fortunately, I have spare pants at the other theater

Today's strange, covering-all-sorts-of-tasks-I-don't-normally-do day has culminated with me as the house manager for tonight's Mainstage show, which is why I'm still sitting at the theater at quarter past nine. (What's that? You mean you didn't even remember that you were working tonight, Hannah? So much for tonight's to-do list!) I am making use out of the boots that normally live under my desk, so that's a plus.

If anyone wants a full pot of regular coffee, I apparently made an extra one for no good reason. Please arrive within the next ten minutes, or it'll be gone down the sink.

In other, related to yesterday's not-posted post news, I guess I'm better. My head's in a strange place right now (and the holidays, in a way, don't help as they make me think of home and not being in Texas). If I ever have time again to draft up a less emo-y version, I'll let other people know what's going on. Look for that around February, the rate I'm going.

The good side of working in the evening (when you didn't prepare for it)? I ate shrimp tacos for dinner, and they were perfect.

too many thoughts in the head

Instead of typing up the (incredibly emo) post I create this morning while sitting in meetings, I give you something (with very little extra explanation) that will only make sense to a select few. Here you go, Mom, Grandma, and Aunt L!







It was okay.

I have a bunch of little blog-lettes written, but I'm still in the theater lobby (and not near my book)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am probably going to celebrate by doing laundry at eight in the morning (when my lovely biological clock wakes me up again, like usual). Someone in Kansas City, please eat some celery sticks with cream cheese for me.

(changed my mind, different post enclosed)

Today's tech/dress went very well, though I hadn't expected the cue to cue (or Q2Q, as the cool kids abbreviate it) to last quite as long as it did. (I'm not sure why; typically [for the Rotunda, at least] you should expect about time and a half of the show length to work through Q2Q, and that's about what we did. /end weird punctuation) I'm somewhat at the point where I don't know how "good" the show is. I can tell whether the actors are having an on day, if the audience is with us, and whether I've hit all my cues properly. But this point forward, I can't read the overall quality level of the show. We had great reaction from the designers, though, so I'll assume things are going as well as know these people (actors/playwright/director/designers) can pull together.

Unrelated (per usual): some places have already started listing their Black Friday deals, and that's most of why I'm posting this three hours after I left my rehearsal.

I know it's tech week and all...

...but if I'm not actually stressed (because, in the scheme of things, I'm not), then why is the knot on my back slowly growing into an enormous monster? Back off, Leroy!

per tradition, I need to change my facebook to tech week hair

I keep working on the London thing, but I should probably bow to the inevitable and write it out of order, since I really want to write about the trips themselves and not (as I'm trying to force myself to do) figuring out how I became so obsessive about the city in the first place.

I somehow stopped chewing my nails during last tech week, but I don't see that happening again this show. Also, I have an entire page of lines I haven't even looked at since the first read-through.

Apologies to the Righteous Brothers, but I like "Unchained Melody" better as a piano instrumental than as an R&B classic. (And yes, my ipod has found it's way to the Lorie Line CD I was given ages ago.)

My phone plays the Other-Father Coraline song whenever a text comes in, which--in my job--makes for a dance party every five minutes.

Also, if anyone wants a paper Coraline or circus mouse, I apparently have such skills in my arsenal now.

In "who knew it would ever happen?" news, I've actually stumbled upon an old, annoying-to-work-with item the theater's technical director *will* let me set on fire. (He always says no to the set pieces, but old speakers are apparently okay.) Of course, since it was always part of the bit that he never said yes, I've never considered where I'd set fire to a piece of theater equipment that had finally ended its time with us.

I don't know what someone who whistles/honks/shouts out something while driving past me at the bus stop expects me to do. Is it just menfolk reasserting themselves as menfolk, or did Jerry Seinfeld have it right and I'm supposed to chase after them?

I've been workshopping (mostly in my brain) a post thing about my love of London (somewhat inspired by Will's multi-post series about his life in theater). The problem with such things, however, is the extended time thinking about London isn't good for my general health as it leads down the rabbit hole of wanting to move there/can't move-still working here/maybe I don't want to stay then/blah blah blah that isn't helpful when you're recovering from a mild illness. (I'm better, btw, though annoyed that I couldn't at least get sick on a day when I could stay home.)

Have I mentioned to anyone that the managing director is trying to convince me that I want to stage manage the New Year's Eve show? Because that was my favorite part of stuck-at-work-sick Monday. (Incidentally, the answer to that was "no, seriously no, please go away before I sneeze on you no.")

5:29 MON OCT 26

I'm really only still here, at work, because I'm trying to kill enough time for my parents to be home. I've been a bad (and sometimes zoo-busy) daughter and not gotten a call in for a few weeks, which also puts a halt on trying to formulate vacation plans.

I could feel it in my knee all day Sunday that I'd been up and down as Ta-Daa, trying to show the younger, somewhat more anxious children that the big bug could be a small(er) bug, too.

If I can refrain from anything resembling modesty for the moment, also, I'd like to mention that I rocked out to Thriller this weekend. Something about seeing the choreography before (and being able to move away from the clingy children) must have made a difference. Imagine that!

My Halloween costume won't be settled until I actually make a trip to the costume shop (as in, the free one at the theater) and see what I can pick up for the cheap.

That should be long enough.

I am not actually here.

Seriously, every person who steps into my office and tries to make conversation with me has been informed that I am--clearly--a figment of their imagination since Real Hannah has today off from working three shows, one partial rehearsal, and a morning in a bug suit.

It is really, really hard to keep up with Thriller choreography while you're inside a giant fuzzy suit that simultaneously draws small children toward you and blocks your ability to see them next to your ankles. Kid in the giraffe costume, perfectly doing the choreography while on stilts, you are my new hero.

Timmy Hawks Rock Star Skating Shoes 5000...SHOES!

After listening to three differnt versions of "Little Shop of Horrors" over the past two days, I've come to the official opinion that my favorite is the movie soundtrack. Supporting Ellen Greene while filling my love of Rick Moranis? Hurrah!

And, Melissa? MORAL! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!

I am now going to take a seven minute nap in my office with all the pillows from Secret Garden.

I could eat Panda Express orange chicken until I fell over (though the falling over would likely be caused by my own malnutrition).

I like how I didn't really have anything to say, and thus made my subject line what could've been a semi-paragraph.

Also, I'm apparently only good at chopsticks when I'm not trying to type at the same time. Who knew?

bouncing sheep bolero

I'm somewhat too sleepy to leave work at the moment, as I'm not sure I'd make it to the proper bus (only slightly joking). I don't know where I went downhill during the day, but I guess it has something to do with falling asleep pre-10:30 last night (and thus waking up before seven today).

Last night I sat besides the pool for a good hour and pretended I was on the dock at a lake. Perhaps if the pool light had decided whether it wanted to be on or off (instead of flickering back and forth every ten minutes or so), I could've pretended more affectively.

I'm currently eating the end of the Jaffa Cakes Caleb bought while in London (and then gifted to me after--I guess--not caring for the chocolate/orange/crumbling crust flavor). I, on the other hand, cannot get enough of the jam-like orange center, and should use this time instead to find a way to procure more of the delightful cakes? cookies? lovelies? without a $700 plane ticket involved.

I refuse to believe that it's actually October...

...but I will happily take the new month paycheck anyway.

I've been blogging the old-fashioned way lately (I believe the grown-ups call it "writing in a journal"), just to unload a bunch of thoughts jostling around in my brain. (No, *you're* welcome, Skull!) Most of them aren't headed here, but here's a few odds and ends that slipped out between the heftier stuff:

Remember when I used to write monthly update emails to everyone in my email contact list, regardless of how much they might care?

"Cheesy fries" are--together--two of the most glorious words in the English language. (Seperately, only "cheesy" inspires greatness. "Fries" could go either way.)

I'm not sure that any good will come of either burst of nostalgia, but I just broke out the (fresly rediscovered) honey soap [a souvenier of my first trip abroad] and need to buy that Big Sky song from itunes before it disappears into my gypsy moth past again.

Something about a multiple-day eye twitch (and not having anything in particular causing it) makes you want to toss out all the stress in your life and sit reading on the back patio. (Also, nothing adds to your stress level like not knowing the source of your stress-induced eye twitch.)

it's Wednesday of tech week, yet all my fingernails are intact

I don't know why I'm watching them now, but old clips of "The Lion King" (the musical, not the movie) on YouTube are a weird way to block out Myrtle in the background. Also, somewhat ineffectual.

Also-also, I find it difficult not to listen to "Endless Night" on somewhat forever repeat. And I still want to grow up and be Julie Taymor. (How did I manage to write a second paragraph that matches the first? I thought I'd lost that skill.)

realizing one bus ride too late

You know what's really helpful? If you're going to work on script changes, you should probably bring with you the most recent draft of the script. (Either that, or have better faith in your memory to include what's been cut out prior to the newest changes.)

So beyond unrelated: I'm annoyed with Jane Austen for coming up with as dull a heroine as Fanny Price. I think Jane took whatever backbone she would've given Fanny and sent it to Elizabeth Bennett instead.

update about not updating

All those hoping the holiday weekend would lead to wonderful rest and thus (huzzah!) most blogging will be saddened to hear that I'll be in the world of tech week and happy to manage basic life functions (let along figuring out where to call cues and finding a storage home for all my set pieces).

Those who don't care whether I blog or not can feel free to continue to not care.

Go team awesome.

I know better than to use such crappy ink to write on my hand.

My happiness that Spotlighter is over (and--more importantly--no longer my concern for a year) is tinged by sadness that the quotes I wrote on my hand were already fading before I got home. There was a Lee Walker zinger and everything!

In regards to awardness (I don't think she actually called it the growth award this year, so I'm not sure that I'm actually destined to leave within this season), I appreciate the sentiment...though I feel it more sincerely from those who talked to me afterward with congrats and hugs. I'm not always the most confident in my stage management abilities (and, at times, that can be a major understatement), so I should probably just take the compliment and tell my inner doubts to shut it.


[I first typed up this post Wednesday morning after Spotlighter. I hadn't gotten around to posting it (until now, I hope) because I'd been trying to draft out in my head the small argument that had been going on in the meantime. The basics:

1. I'm annoyed that we keep choosing to spotlight me, because there are other deserving people in this company who do amazing, above and beyond work (and I know how much time I spend on BubbleSpinner.

2. About 95% of what I do I wouldn't call going beyond the call of duty (or doing royal work, whatever that means JCG), but label as "being a good stage manager." By pointing me out as an example, I feel like that's providing justification for those who don't work as hard as they could to be content with their "average" performance.

3. I haven't yet unjumbled all my thoughts about how I don't want to live in Texas for the rest of my life (and how that somehow was brought up by one measly little bouquet), so just know that all that goes here.

The farther life gets from the drain that is Spotlighter Night (and how ironic is it that an evening set up to honor the company ends up dragging it through the emotional gutter?), the calmer my reaction will surely become. Again, I am happy that people think I'm swell (and I'll use it in the future when I need to remind myself that I'm swell), and I'll try to dwell only on that half.]

yum, yum carrots

I don't know where the emo teenager that wrote that last post when, but she's happily (well, as happy as emo teenagers can be) shuffled off again. Maybe it's because I've had a morning full of paperwork, which--counter intuitive as it may seem--puts me in a good mood.

Let it be noted (per usual, unrelated to the above thought), if I have a choice between running Spotlighter and just coming out as Ta-Daa (as currently notated in the script), I'm totally going for the bug. If I can't wear a swanky dress, I might as well not dress up at all.

not that any of the toys on my computer are trolls...

I think (now that I've stopped to ponder and not just push out a really muddled post) that my weird melancoly popping up all evening comes from finishing "Neverwhere" again and having my own thoughts of whether this enough in life. Work, eat, hang with friends, watch a movie, sleep, etc. ... where are my great grand adventures?

Probably part of this is also that I already threw out an offer to hitch off to London again, having finally finished posting pictures (and, I don't know, needing to take new ones?)

I'll probably be okay by tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I can add the following (along with S. Sondheim and high school emails) of people/things that are not helping: James Horner, the headache behind my left eye, the need for post-show dinner


[nearly immediate edit to add things that do help: picturing my mother watching Ace of Cakes on hulu, the Jeff Healy Band, patrons trying to use my (locked) office door to leave the theater]

...in order to steal cheese

I don't know what's about to go down, but my hair has already been informed as it's in classic Type A version of the hair flip (which will hopefully go for option 1 over option 2).

Sorry, I do weird punctuation when I'm hungry.

unrelated to anything else in the world, but I want to remember it forever: my new favorite game is picturing Cooksey in Samuel L. Jackson roles

As much as I love doing paperwork (and I seriously and unironically love putting together an Excel spreadsheet tracking tech pieces for a show), I think all stage managers should get to take Friday off from paperwork and--I don't know--go to Borders instead. I'm finding it hard to focus on this costume change breakdown with the knowledge that I don't have to be at work tomorrow floating in the not-so-back of my brain. Also, I'm doing box office coverage, and if that's not an excuse to goof off between phone calls, I don't know what is.

NOW is when I've forgotten about you for a week [plus]

Things that I should've accomplished before now:

* sending in this crappy loaner phone

* posting London pictures, because really

* sending off postcards from London, because really really

* learned all the words to "By My Side," as I've listened to it on repeat for approximately the past hour rather than letting my ipod cycle on to the next soundtrack

No, I did not forget you for a week...

I'm a little annoyed with Twitter for telling me [apparently] incorrect things about how to make text messages work while abroad, but more annoyed with Verizon for choosing to charge me for messages that seemingly disappeared into the ozone.

Leaving the bitterness behind, here's my London trip in Twitter posts:

July 16, 2:00 p.m. - Cheerio and g'afternoon my time! We've landed and are riding toward Paddington Station right now. Be jealous, it's under 80 degrees.

July 17, 7:19 p.m. - Fresh fruit, inflatable mini Tardis, sitting five rows from the stage at Billy Elliot...

July 18, 5:24 p.m. - Just watched Sirs Ian and Patrick do a soft shoe curtain call, and am now waiting at a stage door.

July 20, 5:43 a.m. - Last I saw Caleb he was sitting on the train to the airport. It's about twenty to six and I want to go back to sleep.

July 21, 6:11 p.m. - Sitting on the floor at the Royal Albert Hall waiting for this evening's Prom to begin...I feel like a concert hall groundling.

July 22, 9:40 a.m. - I don't want to pester anyone at 3 a.m., but I'm on a plane with a bag full of duty free kinder candy and mini toblerones. Cheerio, London!

hard to be on the timer when the keyboard is set up differently

I'll apparently have to back date all my twitter texts that I thought were going through, as I just checked and had last posted from a plane. *sigh*

My right ankle will probably never be the same again, and I have an awesome bruise cluster just above what's polite to show in society on my leg (art museum lift 1, Hannah 0), but I wouldn't trade 96% of this trip for anything. (I would take back getting lost for an hour yesterday and all the times I was grouchy with my brother, for the record.)

I'm so muddled on time at the moment, I'm not sure what time it is here (past midnight?) at home or anywhere else. So, generic greetings to you all.

Supposedly I can still twitter to the same number, even six hours into the future (aka, while in London). We'll see how that works.

I enjoyed the new Harry Potter, but would probably like it more upon a second viewing when I would not spend the movie thinking "wait, THAT didn't happen like that in the book...!" Do you think the costume shop would never notice if I didn't return the blue wig or awesome black jacket to them?

It's a little dangerous that I have so much room in Oscar (the big giant luggage) for souvenirs. (Related: I will never, ever be able to spell the word "souvenirs" without spellcheck.)

Two more hours to kill!

Did you know that I can check-in for my flight in thirty minutes?!?!?

I'm apparently going to spend the three hours before HP tonight (we're meeting at 9:00 to walk to the movie theater) by importing contacts into this phone, seeing as it won't shift them over from the old phone. BOO!

I need to go pick up the rest of my planned costume pieces for tonight.

Yesterday I used my Ike emergency money to trade in for British Pounds. For whatever reason, that's terribly amusing to me.

I almost just spilled a cup of lukewarm water all over my keyboard, so I'll call that good for now.

I SAY NO!

I was a little concerened early when I had blurry vision in my left eye, but I now think it was just the calm before the storm raging behind my right eye at the moment, and no amount of not-quite-yet-expired stage management kit drugs are helping it out.

[What does work: a constant smooth rubbing just above the right eyebrow, which--incidentally, makes it next to impossible to do anything else that my job requires at the moment.]

If I land in London and immediately fall ill, I'm calling the universe for a refund.

my hand smells like coffee

This is what I'm reduced to, and with five and a half days to go

TRAVIS: Hey, Hannah...London!
HANNAH: [bounces up and down]

also, a lovely tribute to Jesse James

Is it strange that I'm listening to (on somewhat constant repeat) a nostalgic song about Missouri right now? I think my London guidebooks are jealous.

listy listy list

There's still so much to do before this trip, especially now that it's only one week (one! week! !!) away. I like to put it in perspective and remind myself of how much more there would be to do if I were leaving the country for good (plus or minus a few years of life), but that mostly throws my brain off track.

And, to prove I am doing some work today: I don't know what alarms me more, the person in an over-sized robin costume for "The Secret Garden" or the invisible (but still very vocal) dog in The LIW Spectacular. The answer is neither. The winner is the animal puppet suit (complete with fake human arms!) for Dickon to bring a fox and lamb to visit Colin. Oh, Secret Garden, weren't the threatened drop boxes enough?

note to self: buy brownie fixings

Forget booking the flight, the hostel, or even the theatre tickets. It took asking for a ride to the airport to feel like this trip was going to actually happen.

the Important Things in Life

I tried a chocolate petit four (from last night's opening) again today, seeing as they'd been in a fridge for a sizeable period of time and would hopefully therefore not melt in your fingers upon being picked up. I guess my sugar gene was trying to tell me that I wasn't a true sugar addict if I preferred the vanilla to the chocolate.

Fourteen hours in the fridge, and it succeeded in being slightly less melty (except where attached to the paper doily, where it was suddenly suctioned down with chocolate glue) and didn't taste quite as much like pudding. I'm going to stick with vanilla.

Semi-related: I'm half tempted to make my own bowl of punch, and wish I had thought of that back when I first walked in. I don't think I can drink a whole bowl of pineapple ginger ale in an hour-fifteen, but I could've accomplished that with my full five hour shift.

Not related at all: I'm wearing multi-colored sequin shoes. (Of course I am.)

March - June, 2006

Is there anything quite as weird as reading blog posts from years ago and comparing the you of then to the you of now?

If nothing else, it's a great way to pass time between phone calls in the box office.

I'm about 5-2 for naming songs playing on the All Broadway station during the past half hour.

I pulled out a suitcase last night with the intention of seeing how things fit. The answer is that things are going to fit with room to spare for a small Dalek (hello, mild Doctor Who obsession!) and part of David Garrick's grave (hello, mild Hist&Lit II obsession) to spare.

I wish I had this suitcase the last time I went, when I tried to cram two weeks worth of clothes (plus shoes, since this is me) into the same family suitcase that has traveled with the Smiths for ages, despite it not being the most spacious piece of luggage you might hope for. (And then I had to figure out a way to get home everything I bought, because the snow globes and t-shirts and pirate flags and everything else couldn't not come home.)

This suitcase, which needs a name if I insist on taking it places where I will probably need to yell at it while dragging it up flights of stairs, is [as mentioned] large and lime green, which is another reason to take it places. It was bought two Christmases ago with the intention that I was about to take a trip. The fact that the NYC adventure was canceled due to team sports just means that I've delayed the grand debut of the monster bag.

So, I want to actually use this bag, if nothing else because it needs to be used for more than just storage in my closet. Maybe I'll pack all the shoes I actually want, rather than feel I'll need. Maybe I'll buy all the shoes I want. And maybe, sadly, I'll suck it up and use the size suitcase I actually need, and save the nameless green beast for another day.

PREVIOUS POST CANCELLED DUE TO GROUCHINESS

I was about three sentences in on writing a post about how my pet peeves are growing due to Impending Vacation Not Yet Here-ness when I realized that it was suffering more from People Don't Want to Read How Grouchy You Are-itis. Instead (since I'd prefer not to turn into that "Hey, you kids get off my lawn!" person), I offer you Things That Make Me Giddy:

* I have the full Saturday off, and might finally be able to see a certain 3D Pixar movie. (The indirect giddiness here: movie popcorn butter!)

* I am *not* the one currently leading shift drills on the mainstage, and that will always be a great plus in my life.

* 19 days....

* Have you seen the video for She&Him's "Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" Where she's a zombie or something (I don't know what, but there's a bunch of fake blood), but it still manages to be the cutest, bounciest song in the world?

* My top left desk drawer started out holding office supplies, but it has morphed into a strange collection of CDs instead over time.

* Even when I'm not stage managing (such as the next two months or so), I still get paid to sit at a desk and create forms in Excel. If that doesn't bounce you out of bed in the morning [when the "you" is a slightly OCD type with a love of spreadsheets and being paid], I don't know what will.