that I've been pretty doggone useless for days now and would be loving it if I could just shake off the guilt for being pretty much inert since Monday. I've had immense difficult prying myself off the sofa at all. perhaps a pulley system would be the thing I need to haul myself off the tar pit that is my sofa... Today is the first day I've actually managed to leave my house for anything other than DVD rentals or munchies. But now, though junk food is grossing me out, I'm too lazy to want to have to get anything else. Where is that manservant of mine, Julio?
So, the reason I'm so lazy and exhausted is because I've finally finished the School Tour for Afrika Solo. I'm sad and thrilled all at the same time. I loved being with Janet all these weeks. There were many joys and many frustrations as well, but I learned so much about myself as an actor. And I really needed to just get that experience under my belt and start trusting that I have been given a gift. And honeys, I plan to work it till I cain't work it no mo'!
To tell the truth, I've been a teensy bit in mourning since the tour ended. The beautiful thing about theatre is that it is a living entity, and so it's exciting and ephemeral and very precious. The sad thing is that it has a very definite life span, and when it's gone, it's gone, and you can't get it back. It dies. Not like film, which you can preserve. So, after the weekend, the final closing of the tour, I cried a little for its death, we struck the set, and then it was time for the wake. With three beautiful men and ME! (So two of them were gay, and the other has a devastatingly pretty girlfriend, but it doesn't matter, because) I was macking out at the Cock 'N Bull with a Guinness in one hand, and a slice of pizza in the other, and nothing but good looking men all around the table. Yes indeedy, I sure was living right that afternoon.
(I babysat my friends baby that evening, who has such a haunting and persistent cry that after I got home, I dreamt about it later on that night.
Twice. Dreaming about that little donut's cry woke me out of a dead sleep that night.)
I really will clean my room. And all the other stuff I said I'd do this week. I really will. I
will work out this week and try not to blow up to the size of a baby killer whale. I really will try. Oh right, and I have to deal with ACTRA this week. Crap.
(But at least I may manage to actually get paid for that webcast thingy, which would be good. And the only reason I haven't been paid is because I'm whatless.)
And schedule some head shots. Double crap. More money spent, because to do that, I'll need to get my makeup done. Crap.
I thought it would be easier to get all kinds of stuff accomplished this week, since I actually have time, but the second I slowed down to get a little rest, it's like that's all my body wants to do now, is catch up on missed sleep. I walk around feeling drunk most of the time. Maybe that's the other reason why I don't want to leave the house. I don't need people to think I'm some kind of welfare mom, crack-ho refugee from the movie Jungle Fever. 'Cause my hair is crazy too, nowadays.
Well actually, I had to work today, which was a strong motivator for making me leave my house. Thank God for weaves. Got a little bit of cash in hand, whee-ha! So now I'm plotting my first return to the hairdresser since October. (Lord, that sounds frightening
and whatless, doesn't it?) I also need to put some cash aside for rent. Which would be good, (can I get an amen, Stephanie?) and also so I can scare up enough money to pay for a therapy session.
He's cutting me a deal, is good 'ol Alan, so it's not going to be as expensive as I anticipated, but it's still kind of daunting. Nevertheless, the mild panic attack I suffered at the prospect of actually leaving the house today indicates to me that professional help is a must. Yes, we've got ourselves some self-esteem issues a-plenty. Funny, I thought I was manging pretty well, up until I made the decision recently that I have to stop sweeping all my stuff under the rug and putting off the dealing with all those little neuroses that make me so charming, so complicated, so attractive, yet so repellant, and so utterly infuriating to others. It's even been said once that living with me can make one suicidal. (Okay, it was my ex, and so perhaps he's not exactly objective about the whole thing.)
Anyhoo here I am, stayin' alive, and whether I want to or not, unable to avoid getting back on track. I still have some work to do, getting off-book before rehearsals for Blacks Don't Bowl next week, and I need to do my directing homework for all of the Youthworks projects to come in May. I'm in the midst of rehearsals and there is just so much work to cover and not enough time.
You know, I think I'm going to go and find some place where I can chill with a beverage and begin to organize my thoughts with regard to working all that mess out. Or I might go to bed asap and try to start fresh tomorrow.
Hm. Beverage and work, or home and sleep. Tough call.
