nothing going on. Just sitting here sweatin the day away.

twe-luhv hours of sa-leep. very nice. feeling mellow. I don't feel like my organs are failing anymore.
I'm getting ready to hang at the mall with the friends I have forgotten. I also got paid for the show last night. awesome. I heard a guy talking once about how that night he had, for the first time, been paid for acting. "I think I should frame this check." he said. He was mocked into cashing it. You can't be that stupid. You need the money. Drink it, save it, pay your bills. Don't get sentimental. You earned it, and as soon as producers realize that the money is just a symbol to you too, then they won't even give us that, they'll just start handing out giant novelty checks with 'for elevating our spirits' in the memo.
I made more in eight weeks of acting than I do in two weeks at secretary'in! er, something.
But look at me, talking like a real actor. The only theatre I had a real chance at getting hired at (the place where my audition "made a real impression) didn't call me to read for one of the only plays I could have been in. I have one more chance to get cast in Mrs. Warren's Proffession, but I think they may have already read for that.
Another stupid season in stupid Buffalo with nothing to do, making up my own plays and doing them for six people and my mom. Another season on the fringe. bwah.

I think it's time for a kitty.

I am pretty sure I was best friends with your sister in grammar school. I remember when you were born. (not that you read this.) From what I can tell you turned out to be a pretty freakin awesome kid.
;).

raindamnyourain

Last night I actually felt like I got it. I was there all the way. For the longest time I've just been on autopilot, but last night things clicked. I doubt it looked any different, but I was satisfied with my performance for the first time.
Another late night, another painful morning, another long lunch with tracey. Such a weird, stupid, sad time in my life. Today we sat at lunch and teared up at the same time talking about Greg and about death in general and it was weirdly uplifting in a crying-in-your-sandwich-and-laughing-in-your-salad-way.
Last night we went out after the show and I introduced him to Jess and said, "She did my fake tattoo." and he held up his bicep and in his jokey way said, "I want a big one that says-" and paused for the longest time. He couldn't say 'mom'. It's in our language, and everything is going to remind him like a slap in the face.
He's so dear, I just want to to hug him for a whole day.
I think I will. hm.

got warm and weepy from this one. and from kita's as well. you guys are having adventures. It makes my heart sing.

I have a thousand little things that piss me off and a few pretty sizable things that are tearing me up. I have wanted to cry for a while just to get it over with, but couldn't find it in me to let go. Things that break my heart just sat there hurting without relief. Then, yesterday afternoon, I started crying at work because I didn't have any sandals.

See how that works out?

Some highlights:
I am now full time at my job. I will have health insurance by the first of July. Too little, too-something.
Saw minority report. It was good, but I can think of at least three things I would have rather done on my only night off, not that anybody asked me.(/snark)

I'm not taking sides because quite frankly, I don't care. I'm older and I know better, so I can say this. If you have something to say, say it already. It's not like I'm spouting fuckin Emerson up in here.
Something I've learned lately, life is really fuckin short. Love who you love and let the rest go.

Tonight is the big evening. And by big, I mean vomit-inducing.
If you come to see it, (which you won't since you're either in another state or another country) sit house left. I do everything stage right.

My heart still breaks, but he was in better spirits yesterday. He showed up in a hundred pieces on Tuesday, and I think tonight will probably be pretty emotional.

hi guys don't know what your plans are for the wedding but we will be staying with tom bodette he's going to leave the lite on for us
My mom is the cutest ever.

Everything is wrong.
Macbeth's mother died yesterday. He still came to dress rehearsal. Everything is a mess and I can't adequately express it.

I can't get out of bitchy dishy gossip mode.
I need a smack.
Or a snack.
You decide.

My tattoo is not what I thought it would be. The design is perfect, but my test patch came out a lovely, smoky chocolate brown while the dragons on my chest look kind of like a coffee stain. I'm going to have her reapply thursday morning, just because it needs to play from the stage. Plus, I want to look like freak for the rest of the summer.

you'd think I would tire of this.
::thud::

I once knew someone who mistook incoherence for genius. He washes dishes at a chinese restaurant in a very abstract, Eastern Bloc way.

Tonight is henna tatto night.
I'm starting to get a little anxious. Jess is a genius, but it's kind of like asking someone to draw with oatmeal on your chest. It's going to be sloppy, but with a little luck it will look hella cool. Or really bad. But that's ok, because it only lasts six weeks. Heh heh.

How did it suddenly become the end of june?

so dreamy. I like real life crushes, because they're not real. Just cute and pretend. And you can tell them to their faces you are in love with them. My real crush is on macduff. The guy who plays ross and I plan to take him to utah to marry him. Except I wouldn't want to live with him or touch him or talk to him or anything. I just like to look at him.

I don't have much to say, but I want to write something anyway.
Bah. Sneh.
I am amazed and humbled by working on the real stage. It's smaller than it looks from the hill. I'm becoming surprisingly tolerant of insects and surprisingly intolerant of the rest of the witches. (there's one musical theatre wench who counts me into my phrases, cuz I cain't count to four on mine own, no how.)
This play is burning through my bank account.
I was severely premenstrual on wednesday, and we got rained out of rehearsal in the park, but not until after and hour of getting drizzled on. We ended up going to toy stores (Todd and the guy playing Ross have a whole star wars figures obsession thing that I have had enough of.) and I went to bath and body works. It was so weird. I looked haggard, I was in my little parka and my "movement" clothes, (basically a drenched rolled up pair of sweatpants) walking through this beautiful smelly girly store for an hour. I bought perfume, which I have never done. I bought "Love". It's not half bad. I thought it was funny though. "I'm so pissed I just . . I have to buy perfume! Look what you made me do!"
". . . two THREE FOUR HERE'S LIZARD'S BANE!!!"

more ozzy, less osbourne.

This makes me weep. It shows maturity to just get out of the way of fire rather than add to it. (and more restraint than I have, I tell you what.)
You will be missed, sweet namesame.

I wish I could act retarded and get the other secretary to do all my work for me. Then I could blame everything on her.
::pout::
I'm still ill. Not as bad as before, but I can't stop coughing. I did a test patch of the henna for my tattoo and worked on my design with jess. It's going to look like a birthmark in the shape of twin dragons. It will be the best part of the play.
We rehearse in the park tonight. I'm just not looking forward to being out of the house from 8 am to 11 pm everyday except Monday until mid July. I shouldn't complain, if this is what I want to do I have to deal with the down sides.

I already started on my article for this week to make up for last week's debacle. Don't even look at the site until friday afternoon. Seriously.

My last post was a little pushy, eh? I should m my own b. I'm certainly not the kind to model one's life after.
Well, the central idea remains.

Tonight was painful. Maybe it's because I didn't get a chance to eat and I was cranky. Maybe I'm smoking too much. I'm just all spidery legs and bad vibes. I couldn't stop thinking about brushing my teeth and putting on sweatpants.

I do.

It seems my audition on Monday made "quite an impression." I think the tone is more polite than complimentary. The first thing I did when I walked in was kick off my shoes. (Well, my coach told me my shoes were holding me back, which sounds insane, insanely accurate!) I just got comfortable and enjoyed myself.
Just so you all know, it took me eight years to figure out this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. When I was twenty I wanted to be a poet for a living. I wanted to be a folk singer too, even though I've never picked up a guitar. It takes a long time to figure out who you are. Cut yourselves some slack. Make it your job to be you. Make as little money as possible. Travel. Meet people.
The Calling is an elusive little bugger. Pretend you don't need it and it will hit you in a way you won't be able to deny.
I wanted to be a poet.
FOR A LIVING.

Because I'm nothing if not self-centered, I'll post this here instead of here:
Jesse L. Martin went to high school with a girl named Lisa who is playing Hecate in the play that I am in, I had Jerry Schaefer as a Second City instructor, and he was in both Dog Park and Dick.
heh heh. yeah.
I've turned into *that* guy.

Alway, always the Trading Spaces theme song stuck in my head.

referral maddness:
oh leia!
oh tara!
oh . . .take it to email.

i had a similar issue with the speakers on my stereo. I freaked out one night because I heard voices in my room, it turned out to be some dirthole on his cordless phone verbally abusing his kid.

Of the seven people who have to sing in this show, one of them has no musical background.
yeah.
And it will be easy to guess whose solo we worked on first last night.
yeah.
I thought I was going to cry.
Everyone was patting my shoulder and saying, "it's ok, it sounded good that time." It was fucking awful. That's the worst kind of attention. I hate being the weak link. I'm not always the strongest of the bunch, but I'm so rarely the weakest link. I'm too hard on myself. I should have just belted it and not cared, but I'm too easily intimidated.

Oh yeah, and over the weekend, I totally flashed Macbeth and Banquo without knowing it. It looked like I was trying to do it, but I swear I wasn't. I was wearing a loose shirt that I haven't worn in years, and at one point we surround them and crawl on the floor acting all witchy. I'm half kneeling and trying to make a menacing stage picture, and close to the end of the scene, my hand lands on my throat, and I can feel I'm all spilled out all over the place. If you know me you know there's kind of a lot to work with there. It really had to look like I was trying to do it, and I swear I wasn't. What does one do in this situation? I hope "nothing" is the right thing to do because that is exactly what I plan to do. That and avoid eye contact with both of them for the run of the show.

I'd like to point out that in my opinion, just because a person discovers a person later than sooner or through some other vehicle doesn't make his or her experience less important nor does it make his or her fandom less valid.
I'm not trying to be defensive.

Yes I am.

I had an audition last night. It was a big deal to pretty much just me, but a big deal all the same. The executive director called it a "lovely piece", which works for me, even though the compliment was meant for Anthony Mingella.

All day work, all night rehearse, all week. I should probably learn my lines considering I only have four. By the way, we learned the first scene. The first thing you see will be a bunch of bag ladies in modern dance.
Mmm, menacing.
There will be pictures.

I can't beat this stupid cold. My voice is all fucknutty. Let's hope it works when I need it to work.

I'm a horrible bowler. I shouldn't be allowed to even try. I do enjoy making up names for myself for the big screen. Last week I was "slice a pie", Saturday I was "you guys".