The real problem with the SF Giants:

Barry Bonds is an ugly, ugly woman. Apparently, he's portraying Paula Abdul... me thinks something is not quite right...?

That is all.

Holy Crap Dude

How the hell did I end up so fucking busy? I went from working nights on one show to simultaneously working on three. The good news is that I am booked pretty solid thru the end of May with Theatre and Opera work. But right now, I still am working on Seascape for 1 more week, I'm in rehearsals during the day on a new vaudeville-style show that I'm ASMing, and I'm designing props (and later I think I'm doing some scenic painting) on She Stoops to Conquer with the same company that's doing Seascape. And when Two for the Show (vaudeville show) closes, I get three days off before I start teching for the 1st of two operas I'm dressing. I just looked up the theatre where the operas are performing.... here's a pic...

Yikes!! It's fucking huge! And for Nixon in China, there will be a wardrobe crew of about 10-12 people. Christ.

Must go to bed. Rehearsal tomorrow, and then I might have to go dress a fairly complex show that I've never dressed before and have seen once. I have four pages of single spaced notes on the quick changes. I really hope I don't have to sub in -- it scares the crap out of me. I only have to do it if Carissa's plane from SC gets delayed significantly -- cross your fingers that her plane is on time.

I guess busy is better than not.... sheesh.

Also, has anyone else noticed that the Canadian Womens' Curling team is all redheads? Creepy.....

that is all.

She says:

Sometimes I wish that life was as beautiful as it seems in the movies. Even when it's sad, I love the idea of everything being so perfectly beautiful. Life is just messy in reality. Nothing is ever as it initially seems, and nothing is ever clean-cut and clear. And very little has that cinematic beauty. And nothing is perfect. Intellectually, I know this to be fact, and yet some nights, when the darkness is swallowing me up and suffocating me, I can't help but wish for movie beauty in my own life. I have a problem with depression. Always have. And some days it's worse than others. I've been in a string of less than perfect days, and it's wearing on me. And I'm taking my frustation and anger out on Bil because I really don't know how else to deal with it. And it doesn't help that I really don't like leaving the house, and he keeps trying to make me. I feel terrible about it, which just increases my initial problem, and so I'm even crabbier, and then I feel even worse, and so I get more frustrated with myself and so I snap at Bil and then I feel really awful and...... you get the idea. I wish I could get some sort of professional verification of this, someone with impressive certificates on the office wall who will tell me that it's just depression and that I'm not crazy, and that it can be fixed. I really want to be fixed. I know it's not really how it works. That I'm not some vase that has shattered and can be re-glued a little worse for the wear, but whole. God, I wish that was the case, though. Anyone have soul glue?

I just feel crappy. And it's not getting better, despite the reassurances that I've given to my parents that I am just fine and doing better. It's a lie. I can't sleep and I can't get my brain to stop buzzing, and I pretend to be happy and funny while I'm at work, but I'm not well. I'm not fine. And I'm kidding everyone and myself by pretending. Bil's going to California next weekend for his grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary. I'm running a show, so I'll still be here. I wish I could go with him. I'd like to see some sunlight and maybe the Pacific Ocean. I miss those things. Being nocturnal is so not good for my mental health. I should try to get to sleep -- I do have rehearsal tomorrow and I need to not fall asleep during it. At least I only have the rehearsal and not that plus a Seascape performance at night. I am perpetually tired and sleepless. It's a pain in the ass. I promise my next post will return to what I hope is at best witty candor and worst low-brow fart jokes. At least I'm not crazy enough to start singing every snippet of Annie that I can recall... yet.


that is all, y'all

damn and blast

I was going to go to bed. I really was. And then Wet Hot American Summer came on Comedy Central. This movie fucking cracks me up.

That is all.