Tag Archives: tired

Nominal Fever Ravings

5 Feb

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I need a break from this Chekhov.

…Am stress dreaming about it at this point, because with almost no rehearsal other than talking about it, we open in 9 days.

….And while “concept” is great and all, I need to “do” the fuck out of a thing in order to actually build a tangible reality. One cannot just “theory” a show into existence. But we are having to…because we don’t have time together without giant gaps in between, and schedules are so harried from everyone’s conflicts, that there is no like “panic meet-up time” where one can get private scene partner work slipped in, or try every which way to do a scene, or…well…

…Anyway…I’m toasted. Have been reaming this script alone for days and hours and trying to make choices, hoping they won’t interfere with scene partner’s choices (who I’ve never worked with before), but having to stake out like three or four levels of options here so I can alter or try to connect my stuff to his stuff, for tomorrow morning…when we next meet up.

4 more rehearsals to figure it all out.

…God. You know you’re stressed when Stoppard is the easier, happy place you wish you could fall back into.

…Meanwhile…

The required post-show crash hit, was obtained and nursed for half this week, on my couch. A lot of sleeping. A lot of first generation X-Files-watching (which I had never seen the first time ’round.) I happen to think it’s fun, badass, and slightly terrifying…whilst simultaneously worrying about my cold being a deadly alien variety which has no earthly cure, and/or becoming abducted.

…I wish I was joking about that. But: I am not.

…I induced it even further into my Psyche by watching some episodes across hours of fever sleeping…so now I feel inevitably doomed, in a very deep marrow-of-my-bones way…but have to keep viewing, as like a “How To” mental log of how to combat them, when they do eventually come for me.

…The truth is out there. And so are “they.” Cuz there’s no fucking way that the buck stops at humanity. Microscopic animals take us down, for gods sake. Lets get real, here.

…Anyway…

…No X-Files after dark, is the rule mandate. That’s reserved for script stress, and inevitable alcohol consuming. Mostly with Cecil. Who I gave the cold back to. Cuz I’m an awesome, sharing, sister-friend that way.

…So.

…It’s Friday night. Rent is due, therefor: I’m broke. No Arcadia to go play in. Too distracted about tomorrow morning’s rehearsal to go see that other show I was going to, tonight…even as a PWYC. Which is prob’ly better anyway. Am still not back to even 80% ungross-feeling, across any length of time.

…Oh, and Mrs. Johnson dropped in…about three hours ago…to mix it up a little.

Oh, what a wicked cocktail of life, I do breed…

~D

Things To Do*

6 Dec

*When Other People Sleep

I’ve been awake since two a.m.. It is now a quarter to five. Last time I’d looked at the clock before the short stint of sleep I actually got was 11:30. So, I’ve had 2.5 hours of sleep. You should be impressed I can do math right now.

…Either way, more is obviously not an option. The alarm goes off at 7:05, my flight leaves at 10:40.

I control none of these things. But I do get to decide how to spend my not-sleep time. And in case you are also having complete-shit sleeping patterns, may I suggest some of the following to fill all your lonely waking hours as the world Zzz’s on:

1. Make hot tea:

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Everyone does it. Cuz it’s supposed to be “calming” and “soothing.” I happen to like tea on an average day, so this always seems a good idea to me when I’m awake before dawn, and freezing my ass off. It works on a hit/miss scale though–warming you, till you’re full of it, and need to get up to pee over and over again, which makes you colder, which necessitates more tea. Sort of a vicious cycle, really…but what the hell else is there to do at two a.m.?

2. In between potty breaks, read this:

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It has pictures. Plus jokes. Plus interactive material. If you’re me, it’s also by your bed right now, so: readily available in a convenient location.

3. Consider eating this:
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A representative of the left-overs currently in my fridge. I can’t show you the real one, cuz I ate it. About an hour ago. In between suggestions 1 & 2. Midnight eating for me isn’t exclusively due to boredom, but more “I’m nauseous from lack of sleep and it’s either this or swigging a thing of Pepto, and this tastes better.”

4. Catch up on this:
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…Then realize the topics only feed your total inability to defreak in any way at all, and move directly into this:

5.
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…Which is good for about 20 minutes, by which time (because everyone you know is asleep) you are entirely caught up on every stream and cat meme.

6. Which leads next to this:
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I suggest 90’s Rom-Coms, or sitcom comedy. They require zero reasoning skills, plot analysis or stress…as you already know how they turn out, even if you never saw them the first time, because they were made in America, and there are rules.

7. Solve this:

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The ultimate pillow pile of perfection. I’m a girl. Which means I have like 47 pillows on my bed…some just decorative, sure…but a lot are main-functioning. I keep them in the hopes of one day solving the perfect combo of body-pillow, neck pillow, back pillow, fat pillow, skinny pillow nesting…which will lead to instant sleep on say nights like this one. I believe there is a key. And I will find it one day.

8. Window shopping in your underwear:
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The internet is never closed. You can always go there and look at stuff, and put it in your wish list, no matter HOW much money it costs. Who cares?! YOU aren’t buying it! But your hypothetical winning Lotto ticket, or sugar daddy, or wealthy admirer might! And they won’t know what the really good stuff is, unless you put it in there!

9. See step 5:
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…Part of you thinks, “hey, it’s almost six now. Somebody’s gotta be awake and posting.” Only, it’s Saturday. So: no. No one is.

10. Do this:
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Write a blog. It helps sometimes. Also: you’ve run out of other activities. Last time the neighbors frowned on your early-morning interior redesigning overhaul. And it’s too early to drink.

The end.
~D

Huh.

26 Mar

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So this happened…

Got on the scale this morning after another not-great-sleep and had a double take at the face plate.  Understandable as my eyes were blurry from being shrieked awake by the news of how high the body count is now in the mudslide here…cuz  apparently I must have bumped the station setter on my clock radio and switched it to talk radio.

…I hate talk radio. It’s almost always angry, picking fights and depressing.  I hate it even more when it wakes me up out of the three hours sleep I finally managed to get.

…So anyway…where was I?

…Oh yeah, I was rubbing my eyes again to focus on the digital read-out on my scale, while behind me the shower water blasted on full, waiting to warm up.

Scale: Blinky, blinky, solid number.

Me: Wait. What?

(I get off and try again.)

Scale: Blinky, blinky, same solid number.

Me: Huh.

(I get off, jiggle the back plate, check the batteries…and try it a third time)

Scale: Yeah, I already told you…”BLINKY, BLINKY, SAME NUMBER.” What are you not understanding here?

Me: Because …how??

Scale: How the hell would I know? I have one job, lady…I’m doing it. That’s all I’ve got.

Me: But…wha…I don’t…understand

Scale: Listen, it is what it is. Deal with it.

Me: But…but…

Scale: –LOOK!! I’ve gotten a lot of fucking abuse from you lately, you know?! Every damn time you’ve used me in like the past month, you’ve told me to go to hell, go fuck myself, or kiss your ass! Every. Single. Morning! All I do is report your weight. It ain’t my fault what the outcome is! Did I shove the booze and shit-food down your throat till you puffed up like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon??? NO! I didn’t! I report the results! That’s all! It’s like getting pissed at the weather man when he says its gonna rain today, and it does!!

Me: –BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS CAN BE RIGHT?!

Scale: WELL, TRY! DEAL WITH IT! I’M DONE NOW! GO TAKE YOUR DAMN SHOWER AND LEAVE ME ALONE, ALREADY!!

Me: BUT, HOW DO YOU LOSE SEVEN POUNDS IN ONE DAY?!?!?

Scale: PEE A LOT?! I DON’T KNOW!!! NOW GET THE HELL OFF OF ME!!!

Me: So I’ve just passed the 10 pound mark???

Scale: I GUESS SO!

Me: Just like “that?” Just from out of NOWHERE?!

Scale: APPARENTLY, YES!

Me: AFTER ALL THIS TIME?! OUT OF NOTHING, NOTHING, NOTHING…DAY AFTER DAY AFTER DAY?!!?

Scale: ARE YOU INSINUATING THAT I’M LYING?!?

Me: IT JUST DOESN’T MAKE SENSE!!

Scale: WELL, I DON’T CARE!

Me: HOLY SHIT!!

Scale: WHATEVER, YOU’RE BEYOND ASTONISHED, YA-DE-YA-DA…NOW WILL YOU GET YOUR FAT ASS OFF MY FACE AND GET IN THE DAMN SHOWER?!

Me: IT’S LESS FAT THAN IT WAS!

Scale: WELL, “BULLY” FOR YOU!

Me: YOU’RE A SHITTY MOTIVATIONAL COACH, YOU KNOW THAT?!

Scale: IN FACT, I DO! AND I DON’T CARE.

Me: CAN’T YOU EVEN CONGRATULATE ME IN MY MOMENT OF GLORY?!

Scale: NO! LEST YOU FORGET, YOU’VE STILL TEN POUNDS TO GO!

Me: –BUT IT AIN’T TWENTY ANYMORE!

Scale: WELL, IT AIN’T FIVE, EITHER!

Me: BUT IT WILL BE SOMEDAY!! AND NOW I KNOW IT FOR REAL!

(I get off scale as it’s screen goes to black.)

Me: FOR REAL!!!

(Momentary joy fills the land, just as I step into the shower…and scald myself raw.)

Me: SUNOFAFUCKINGBITCH!!!!

Shower Head: WELL DON’T SCREAM AT ME?!!? I’VE BEEN WAITING LIKE FIVE MINUTES ON FULL HEAT TEMP! I’M ONLY DOING MY DAMN JOB!! EVERY FREAKIN’ MORNING, IT’S THE SAME THING WITH YOU…!

(end scene.)

~D

Vikings & Sword Brandishings

27 Aug

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amtiredandcranky.

dontwannablog…

orusepunctuationspacesoranything.

iwouldratherreadthisBBCHistorymagazinearticleaboutthevikings…

andhowtheywieldswordsandtookoverstuff.

…soiamgonna.

~D

* Enter Title Here

9 Aug

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I was just saying to m’carpool buddy last night…as we unlocked our seatbelts and began collecting our bags of crap to take with us into the theatre…that it’s prob’ly a really good thing that I’m doing a show right now, else I’d be pretty plowed with this cloud of “suck” I’ve got stalking me.

Work at the office it just hell-squared and multiplied, with too muchness and no rest or reprieve in sight…and finances are for total shit, with now added stress of getting license fees paid so I can rejoin the rest of the adult driving population, plus some personal stuff has really gotten me down.

I dunno ’bout you, but every so often, life likes to hit me these shitty ground balls, that keep popping up at the last second and smacking me in the face.  It’s never just the one, it’s often three or four…they are always in close succession, and at the most inconvenient times. 

This is one of those times.

…And it’s hard to find a good balance to that.

You know what I mean?

…Turning the crap parts off, at the end of the day, has become like a third job for the past several weeks.  And carpooling with Mr. Director means I have less than the average time to do that in, as his schedule requires earlier arrivals for production meetings.  Which means for the past week, I have not “been done” yet in the converting process of Part “A” into Part “B,” by the time I’m supposed to be moving on into “the next thing.”

…Plus, for the past TWO days of that, I’ve been hormonal as well.

…Which meant my needing (for sanity purposes) to unplug from the world the second I get into the car, until nearly the second we arrive at the theatre…in which time I’m over my head with blaring music coming at me through my earbuds, and trying my very best NOT to fixate on the crap that I cannot control across about thirty minutes of commute time, after which, I’m supposed to magically emerge as: “funny.”

“Funny” isn’t easy in any circumstances, and it’s even harder when you really, really, really, would rather just sit and cry…alone…in the bathtub…for a few minutes.

…Not in a total melt-down capacity.  Not because life is beyond the point of undertaking, but rather because you are frustrated, and tired, and broke and see no reason that won’t continue for a great deal of time to come. Or, like Holly Hunter in “Broadcast News” where she gives herself that 5 minute pre-cry release every morning, as a prep for all the shit that will likely be flung at her that day.

I feel like this kind of depression needs it’s own name, really.  It surpasses a “groan,” but isn’t as bad as “travesty.” 

…It’s “important” and constantly “present”…like the reverse gut-fear feeling of an adrenaline rush, but it isn’t a major disease, and you aren’t being evicted.

…It makes sleeping spotty, involuntary sighs a natural byproduct, and stupid people annoy you a little bit more than they usually do, but you haven’t burst into tears due to a malfunctioning stapler, punched a wall, or set your desk on fire. (yet.)

Actually, this emotional space I’m currently at, is what I picture a LOT of poor adult bastards live in…like 80% of the time.  So I should be glad that it’s just come to my attention as being a current “thing” and not a life-long “constant”…which is about two steps lower than my average emo state…which still puts me better off than the chick with 5 kids, working the drive thu at McDonalds right now.

…And I can appreciate that fact. 

Some of the time.

…Only mostly, this week, I have not.  Appreciated it, that is.  Not even the part where I “get to” go to rehearsal every night. 

Nope.

This week, absolutely everything but breathing and sleeping has been one gigantic personal pain in my ass.  Even eating. 

…And yet, every night in it, by the end of a rehearsal that I sincerely did NOT want to go to, where I insisted to myself that there was no fucking way on god’s green earth that I would ever be able to be FUNNY at, (because why in the hell SHOULD I, given the current circumstances?!) Every night (by the end), I had somehow or another been slapped out of it.

…Which ended up helping a lot more than I originally thought it did.

It meant, going to bed every night, minus the cloud of “shit.” 

…Sure, it would come in throughout the night, like a light fog, and start to seep and settle and collect and grow by morning, back to it’s original size. But in the meantime, at least I got some sleep outta the deal.  Some laughs the night before…

…And every once in a while…for reasons surpassing understanding…for about three hours or so, I could even be “funny.”

I don’t know what I’m trying to say with all that.  But whatever it is, involves art somehow, and how it’s a good thing, I guess. 

So: now you know.

  ~D

Meh.

8 Aug

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Yep.

It’s like that.

Back to our regularly programmed schedule tomorrow.

…In the meantime…

Kisses (and drool.)

~D

Ouch

27 Jul

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You know when you realize that your eyelashes don’t hurt…only because they are the only things that don’t?

…Yeah. I’m there.

In about twenty minutes, I hope to have shut today down, and call it “yesterday.” 

…Meanwhile, Ma begins a new life in a new town house. A charming place in Old Towne…just on the waterfront…a location she’s only wanted to live in, the whole of her life.

Welcome home, Ma. And good sleeps to us all.

…Dear lord, how I hurt.

~D

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