Itsy bitsy

Randominity. Or, the return of Russian nobility-esque journalling.

Finished watching Pride and Prejudice (the 1995 looooong one!), with only minimal "good-parts-ying" of it. Do not feel, as a result, particularly closer to the Clara/Christian scene, but perhaps allowing Austen to stew in the subconscious will eventually help regardless of present consciousness.

Sang for the funeral mass today. Had quite a few (good heavens!) Seniors girls (good heavens because I keep thinking of them as Juniors). Managed to keep it together for the most part. Good to sing.

Hammett's has abandoned all teachers in the area. No store in Marlborough and none in Natick. And I am rolls-of-colored-paperless. Hrumph! Something must needs be done about this. Shall look into alternatives, since....

Tomorrow marks the return to school. Curious, that. Usu. a bit more anxious about the night before beginning - but this year? Meh. Not a bad "meh" just a sort of mehish mehishness. Meh as a state of being than as a French shrug before drowning one's sorrows in bitter coffee and worse jazz.

Special on Lost is on tonight. And the countdown begins...!

And now really must stop putting off the inevitable moment of typing up what I've written for Nutcracker. I've written an awful lot! The rats have just come on the scene, and now it's really a matter of dialogue-to-dance ratio to contend with. Hence, much mental choreography will transpire in the next few days. But I will most definitely make my deadline for the production of the script and I think, all in all, it is a workable script. With, alas, the sole difficulty of having a heroine who needs to be more heroine-y earlier on. Elspeth syndrome works all very well in a novel, but not so well in a play. Bah.

Mood: I am out of Phish Food and I am sadder than caramel
Music: Mental P&P soundtrack
Thought: To light a smelly candle or not to light a smelly candle? And companionship and daquiris and long conversations are wonderful things. (Daquiris, of course, an optional feature.)

Sorrow, sorrow, heartfelt pain

If all our love has been in vain
If ever you should tell a lie
Then my friend, I shall die

George Macdonald wrote a novella, The Light Princess, about a girl who could feel no gravity, either literally or metaphorically. I think perhaps sometimes I am she - at least in the face of tragedy. But at the end of the novella, the prince whou loves her volunteers to let his body be used to plug this pool of water which is in danger of being drained away by an evil witch (the pool is the only thing that the light princess loves). All he asks is that the princess stay with him as he dies. But *as* he dies, she finally feels sorrow for someone.

She weeps. And in weeping, she becomes "grave" and she no longer needs the pool (which was the only thing that anchored her) and so she is able to save the prince.

I feel as though I'm finally at that point. Or close to.

Funeral Tuesday. Singing for it. That's good. Bollocks to this school year. Tired already. Curiously, watching the appendices for LOTR (TTT in this case) make one feel better.

Mood: Exhausted
Music: The editing section of disc 4 of LOTR appendices
Thought: Ex-hau-sted

Home again, home again

Jiggity-jig

And sleepy. And starving. And vaguely...not melancholy but.... I suppose the best way to describe it is as though I were Han Solo in the trash compactor in Star Wars, but before the walls start moving in, but with the added disadvantage of knowing what's going to happen next. Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh.

Visit to TX was all that had been hoped for and more. So peaceful. So calm. So loving. So full of conversation and silence and two of God's cutest kids and friendship. Coming back has actually been something of a difficulty (esp. with aforementioned trash compacting architecture).

Got the DVD's in today - although they cost an arm and a leg more than anticipated. *shakes fist at sky* Johnny is going to do tomorrow night's music, so meeting with him tomorrow around noon. RenFest put off until Sunday. Ergo, mass tomorrow as hopefully a long-delayed confession as well. Then more travelling in the wee, small hours of the morning. Must remember to bring suntan lotion. Am attempting to focus on happy things rather than tragic. Am praying.

Am sleepy.

Am stopping.

Am.

Mood: The castle of "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh"
Music: Odd mix of mental DVD stuff.
Thought: Do I dare and do I dare? Time to turn and run down the stair - with a bald patch in the middle of my hair....

In the voice of David Wenham

As he played it in Moulin Rouge:
"Good BYYYYYYYYYYE!"

Off to TX in T-minus-4 hours. Slept from 7-10 p.m. Now going to pack (I call it the Austria syndrome). Hopefully using air time to a) sleep and b) write Nutcracker. (Did I mention I was past the arrival of the two messages? Hurrah! Nearly half-way done!) Talked to Johnny today - he was over with a fever, poor brother! - and told him about how he was the inspiration for major change in Nutcracker and so decided to dedicate this play-ballet to him. Hoopla! Currently taping Buffy: The Musical so I can listen to it in our non-CD car down to P-Town (at 3:30 in the morning! Gah!) so I can keep awake whilst driving. Haven't decided what I'll put on the B side of the tape. Looking forward to retreat with HH sisters. Yes, precious. Rest.

Mood: Still waking up. Diet Coke may be in order.
Music: Halloooo? Last track from Buffy: The Vampire Slayer
You know the wild Emily is actually sleepy: When she doesn't even bother to take off all the pillows from her bed to sleep for three hours.

Singing:

I'm free
I'm set free
I'm freed by His blood (2x)

Yea, though I walk
Through the valley of death
I fear no ill
For You're by my side

Your rod and Your staff,
They guide and protect,
For You are my Savior,
My Lord and my God!

(And Psalm 51 is always good.)

Poor Jules has a massive ear infection. Prayers, please.

Pray for the Vuong family who just suffered a great tragedy.

Prayers for special intentions, and for the grace of distance and balance.

Rosaries are wonderful

Holy Hours are wonderful

Spiritual advice and blessings are wonderful

And the ability to act aids.

Mood: Much better
Music: See above, on mental jukebox
Pensee: I'm really glad that I was able to go to Holy Hour first.
Prayer Additionale: Lord, I need a real spiritual director, please. Amen.

Hope for the Church

Check out this blog: Annunciations: Prophecy of St. John Bosco! Alleluia! May it be so!

Mood: Pas mal - omnipresent laundry awaits
Music: Return to the Hobbiton theme at the end of ROTK
Prayer: Oh God help me!!!

Nothing earthshattering

To add. Just a few typicals:

Rumpole of the Bailey is sooooo good. I'd forgotten.

Driving with Jules out along the highways and byways of MA, exclaiming over every view, every lilac field, every ivy-strewn tree, the setting sun, the rising moon, the invisible Abbey whilst she knits and I drive in slipper-shod feet is one of the loveliest things of all.

Note for Future Reference: Slippers apparently count as "shod" in supermarkets. Good to know when ordered by parentals to pick up ice cream since we were out anyway. ("She's had a really bad day!")

Must - Keep - Writing!

Going this afternoon - soon and very soon - to Boston (again) with Fr. Jonathan, Allie and possible Denae to visit some convent of some sort. Ich bin das chaperone. (I wonder what the actual German word is for that? Grizzled aunt? Prune-faced squinter?) Anywho - should be interesting. Regardless, it'll include a Fr. Jonathan mass and dinner with the sisters!

Whilst at the interviews yesterday I was pleased to note that I had apparently achieved Theatrical Graduate Student Uniform (Female) all on my lonesome: fitted then flaired pants, tailored button-down shirt of Some Exciting and Powerful Colour, shortish hair with Something Done To It, and fat. Yes - fat. Who knew it was a prerequisite? However, this apparently did not impress the aforementioned Prune-faced squinter of an grad. admin. person (aka: all we do is financial aid and make prune-faces whilst squinting) who was in her own uniform of military cut with a very determined boho scarf to forcefully soften the overall halberd appearance. Yeah - who's still doing costume design for the upcoming shows? ;P

My thumbnail snapped off shorter yesterday. Poot.

Sixes and sevens, sixes and sevens....

Watched a bit of Lost Broadway Treasures on NH's PBS last night. There's a reason why they were lost. But boy! Was it encouraging to watch! (Actually, the tap dance number from Black and Blue WAS very good.) During pleas for money we switched over to The Office which had, to all our delight, a diversity day plot. Ooooooooooooooh, the rich pain!

Mood: Sixes and sevens
Music: "Jack and the Mermaid" from the second Crimson Pirates album - great song. *shiver* Really ought to memorise it.
Thought: What is the exact etymology of "sixes and sevens" and why do I always feel the need to actually say "sevenses"?

'Tisn't even very funny

I - Couldn't - Get - To - Sleep - Until - 7 - O - (*#%&ing - Clock - In - The - MORNING!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh! Fortunately got to Emerson OK and in time (they own the Majestic theatre...they OWN the Majestic theatre!!!) and the tour was very good even if the grad. admissions lady was an ubersnot. Ha! I sing "Don't Rain On My Parade" and "I'm the Greatest Star" at you! (And then go home with massive blisters and an urgent need for comfort tuna and Coke.) So, I wonder why I'm so tired? Silly, Emily. Seven a.m. Good grief. (They own the Majestic. Have I mentioned this? They OWN it.)

So, anywho - feeling now rather at sixes and sevens because I'm too tired to really do justice to any actual project and I can't go to sleep now lest I wake and not go to sleep again until 7 a.m. Which would be just too ridiculous to believe.

*nnnnngh*

Mood: Regarde en haute. Well, that, and determined. As one might say to an unsuspecting Emerson, "I'm so totally gonna OWN you!"
Music: "I'm Just a Girl" by No Doubt off the Hamlet CD.
Encouragement Tapes: Do just that. I actually was weeping - in a good way - in the car to the lyrics of "Heaven's Eyes" from Prince of Egypt. And I lost it at "To Life (Lechaiem)" (sp?) from Fiddler on the Roof. Well, I cried for a bit to it and then when it got to the dance break I mentally choreographed it. Dude, when I do that show, it is so going to rock. (Can you tell Blur's "Song 2" is on now? Oy.)
Appropriate Lyrics: From "I'm Going to Go Back There Someday" as sung by Gonzo from The Muppet Movie:

This looks familiar
Vaguely familiar
Almost unreal yet
It's too soon to feel yet
Close to my soul
And yet so far away
I'm going to go back there someday.

Sun rises, night falls
Somewhere the sky calls
Is that a song there?
And do I belong there?
I've never been there
But I know the way
I'm going to go back there someday.

Come and go with me
It's more fun to share
We'll both be completely
At home in midair
We're flying, not walking
On featherless wings
We can hold on to love
Like invisible strings

There's not a word yet
For old friends who've just met
Part heaven, part space
Or have I found my place?
You can just visit -
But I plan to stay
I'm going to go back there someday.

Happiness and Curiosities

Just came back from a celebratory luncheon with Jules for Charming the Moon's release! Yessir! Just got my copies in - hurrah! And it looks good! Happy day! (ETA: And it's on Amazon, too! Start those reviews, please!)

Then I go and read this: JIMMY AKIN.ORG: Future Shock, which gets one thinking (in a good way).

And then I read something (that I won't post here) that got me thinking...about how part of my frustration with a certain current "fad" (for lack of a better euphemism) is the inherent hypocrisy of the thing: what is, that is what is obvious to the party of the second part, is fervently denied by the party of the first part, rendering the party of the second part to look back and wonder about every single encounter previous and concern himself with how the party of the first part perceived it. It's my frustration like Hamlet's of "these things indeed seem."

But I have within me that which passeth show, these but the trappings and suits of woe.

Mood: Generally good but slightly furrow-browed
Music: None, but Nicholas Nickelby's score by Portman in my head
Thought: My latest novella is out. Huh.

OK, so I've been a wee bit slow

On writing things in prose. But I finally got to Drosselmeier's "real" entrance (before the giving of the gifts), aaaaaaand...(drumroll please)...I has edited the 2005-2006 edition of the HCH Promo!

See the 2005-2006 HCH Promo here!!!

(Or be a Rectangulare Squayre Thynge, as Pratchett would say.) It's a .wmv file - so happiest playing on Windows Media.

Mood: Pas mal. Dance-y, which is nice.
Music: Let Go by Frou Frou
Thought: History is a very odd creature indeed.
Thought Redux: You can tell when I'm nearing play time when I start obsessively watching movies which might be in any remote way helpful. To date: The Nutcracker Prince, DuBarry was a Lady, State Fair, West Side Story and Singing in the Rain. Dance fiend anyone?

Brain - aching - aaaarugh

We swears it precious: Tchaikovsky is very possibly going on our Bad List. I don't know that I can listen to Nutcracker too much more before my brain explodes. Not that it's bad...just.... Aaaaaaaaaaaaarugh.

Plane tickets bought. Excursion to TX commences last full week of August. Hoopla.

Lessons today went well. Helped solidify some thoughts in my brain. Or at least gave anchor to those nebulous areas so that I can deal with them at the proper time.

Have set up appt. with the grad. admissions fellow at Emerson for this upcoming Wednesday. Will tour campus immediately preceeding. Must make up a list of questions for the interview. Will most definitely bring some form of resume - both paper and video.

Returned Ice Princess tonight and then decided to betake me to Borders to look for an academic calendar so that I can more neatly write out my life in black and white. Whilst there, I discovered a group of musicians in the coffee shop who had these magnificent drums (well, OK, fairly run of the mill bongos and other curiosities - but they were well played! Nothing like rhythm to draw me in!) and were singing in that sort of coffee-house scratchish male voice. Yum. Sat in for a few songs before getting up to wander towards the calendar section. Finally purchased something that'll do well enough and now have the task of filling it in. Reminds me rather of when I had the publicity job at Anathan - second semester, that is - not Kindertransport semester - and did up my calendar during the summer. It was FULL - but it also really helped to know what I had to do each day.

I have built me another shrine to Diet Coke by my desk. Can you tell that I've been beating my brain out over Nutcracker? Have gone back and forth on how much I want for a prologue-y type thing for Drosselmeier and whether I want to start with the Overture or with the Waltz of the Flowers and am still wrestling with that. *sigh* I think perhaps I'm far too nitpicky too early. Or perhaps it's just that I do most of my revisions in my head before I commit them to paper? Ich weiss nicht. Anywho....

Mtg. with MJ this morning re: next year's retreats. Bless MJ! She is a lifesaver! (Literally - it took up almost all my studies and frees last year to get together all those silly retreats. I'm glad to have most of my work done for me now. Alleluia!)

SO - LITTLE - TIME!!! SO - MUCH - TO - DO!!!

I'd hoped to have both the Nutcracker and the Hamlet promos finished before going back to school - now I don't know if I'll be able to do so. Ah ca. Not a huge deal but it would have been nice to be even more ahead of my game. Perhaps I can drag Pete into being Hamlet after all and do my usual "glimpses of anonymous lead" filming of him. Perhaps on Monday, after he's recovered from Boy Scout camp.

Only 11 days left (really) to write this thing!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarugh! Of course, the amusing thing, as I've probably mentioned before, is that folk seem supremely confident in a work that's not anything like finished. (The Unbegun Symphony?) *mumblegrumblemumble*

And this is getting me nowhere fast. I'll look up a truly horrible Russian name for a character and go to sleep. Confession, hopefully, for me tomorrow! Much in need of the sacrament.

Mood: Multifarious
Music: Buckbeak's Theme section of "Mischief Managed" credits music from Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban by John Williams. Le sigh.
Thought: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarugh!

Glancing cross-ways at the skies

Just got a thingy in the e-mail from Emerson about an open house night for those interested in their grad programs.... *whistles non-chalantly as she sticks her hands in her pockets and tries to out-cool destiny* Huh.

Dropped off the harddrive yesterday after finding my way by highways and byways to Rte. 2A in Concord - discovering too late that I could have taken 62 in the whole way without resorting to 117 after all. Honestly. MA. Hopefully should have my official copy by next week.

Went to mass today with Mom in Worcester at the Cathedral at noon-ten. Wonderful, much-needed mass. Feast of St. Clare! Woo-hoo! Made me rather weepy as I continued to contemplate. ("I've been thinking about discerning. I don't think we should do it." ;P)

Couldn't sleep 'til uber-late last night again. Whereas the previous night my brain was stuffed full of thoughts about how to begin first semester, last night all I could picture was the end of tech-dress for Hamlet. I fear I'm going to be a basketcase. Rather like post-Anathany. But what a way to go.

It's downright weird how I simply get certain about some things - major things - and then they happen. Honestly, couldn't I for once get downright certain about trivial things as well? I dither over issues the depth of a cup of tea and then fearlessly sally into multiversal frays. Gack!

Must - write - must - write - WHAT - TO - WRITE?!??!?! Argh argh argh.... (And the screen flickers in exasperation: the equivalent of mechanically rolled eyes.)

Rented Ice Princess for Jules and I last night whilst the parentals were suffering in the woods at Peter's boyscout camp's Parent's Night thingummy. I enjoyed the movie, actually. Can't think why the reviews were so abysmal about it. It was fun and sweet. Also rented an animated version of The Nutcracker Prince (their title, not mine) which was actually fairly good. Not much that I can steal from it - mostly because what we're saying with the story is pretty different - but it was a good refresher to see how they played with the givens, etc. Also rented Dubarry Was a Lady, which I have yet to see. Dunno if it's at all a worthwhile musical, but regardless I can always fast-forward to the Gene Kelly dancing bits and revel in his amazingness. (Rather like what one does with half of his movies, really. We're all just waiting for him to leap in the air and dazzle us all.)

Am now being called for a fitting by Julie of the RenFest dress she's making me. Duty (or Julie) calls. "Adieu, adieu - remember me."

Mood: Journalistic
Music: Nada at present
Thought: I just got to the Dref bits in Illusion! Tra la tra la!

Curioser and curioser

Some non sequiterial thunks:

Hurrah! There is an affordable ticket to TX for the exact dates I want! I kiss Expedia's feet!

My birthday is a month from tomorrow.... A moment for shock and awe. (Shocked and slightly embarrassed by the sight of Larry in a towel, Junior Asparagus pulled himself together and asked, "Why do you need a hairbrush? You don't have any haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaair!") I feel as though I don't quite know what to do with birthdays. It's always faintly embarrassing to have a day dedicated to you by those closest to you - "unseemly" and forward as it were - which is why I've always been very glad that it falls so close to the beginning of the school year that I needn't draw attention to it to others. But at the same time, I hardly dread the passing of years. Even though this year I'll be T-minus-2-to-30. It's odd - it's as though the new number has happened to someone else with whom I seem to be associated. Regardless, after last year's Parade of Smelly Products (i.e., bath stuff, cream stuff, candle stuff, etc.) because I Didn't Want To Ask For Anything; Surprise Me - I've at least realized that if I don't want to plaster on a strained smile as I open the umpteenth bath oil, I ought to simply make a list out. I'm always happier myself when someone tells me *what they want* - why shouldn't others be as well? Silly Emily.

Tomorrow (*sniff sniff*) I go to Concord (*wufflemufflemoan*) to hand over my baby (*unrestrained mopey-eyes gazing off into nothingness*), aka my external hard drive to have a single copy of KOF and ACC made (*longsuffering sigh insert here*). I'm really terrible at letting go.

Which brings me to this year. School year that is. OK - first, officially, I don't know if this is my last year there or if next year will be. Regardless, according to the archdiocese, my five year grace period as a religion teacher sans masters Will Be Up and I'll need to move on anyway. So either this year or next. But I find - how typical and typically ironic is this? - that when I look into the great void (or lack of void: very crowded metaphorical void, hence voiding the name void, but for lack of a better term, voidish) the thought of holding on Scrat-like to where I am now becomes the primary instinct. And yet - and yet - "to die will be an awfully big adventure." To die, that is, not in the conservative reading of Hamlet's speech, but rather to die to this chapter of my life. The ending of things is very hard indeed. Last night, I couldn't sleep until 4 a.m., despite the fact that I was in bed four hours previous to the time I finally conked out. I simply - started thinking - of the first day of school, of ways I can make out the curriculum better, of a Master Calendar, of what my new room might look like, of the upcoming year, in fact. (And then I dreamt about it, and it was not pleasant. Thoughts might have the courtesy to stay where the waking brain can deal firmly with them, really!) So, at the end of all things, I finally figure them out. Mais naturallement. But....

Lord, is this really what You want? (The Emerson thing, I mean. The Blue Fairy tapping my brow and turning me into a Real Director thing.) Is this the way? Is this another false path? And what does this year hold (I shudder to think!) that will fully close the door to where I am? But - everything happens in its season. And those things that we dread ("the fear of something after death; the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveller e'er returns") are never as terrible as the midnight chimaeras we conjure while wake-dreaming. There is a great comfort in obliviousness. I could use a dose of it right now.

Meeting with MJ on Friday - v. much looking forward to it. Am determined to get up for 9 a.m. mass tomorrow come hell or high water. Going to chaperone a visit with Fr. Jonathan and two girls to a convent in Boston for them to come and see (plus mass with Fr. Jonathan!). Hopefully about to purchase tickets to TX for last full week of August. Need to contact an Emerson fellow to sit down with him and chat. Prob. should contact Ian about profs. at Emerson. Hopefully will gather actors needed for frosh. orientation skit. Must finish writing Nutcracker. And with that the thought returns: what in the world am I doing?!?!?

How time passes.

Mood: Pensive
Music: Flannel Collage - prob. not helping much with the "are you pondering what I'm pondering" moody
Goodness is: Subs for dinner from D'Angelos mit mein pater und meine mater. And I can mix languages all I like, thank you very much!

Emerson it is

Although a visit first will be in order. Apparently I didn't throw out the graduate catalogue....

Mood: Pas mal - house/cat-sat with Jules and watched Batman Forever which is far worse than I had remembered it. Ah for the days when I had no taste!
Music: Flannel Collage - I need a break from angst. Currently it has such lines as "Lift me up/When I am falling/Lift me up/I'm weak and I'm dying/Lift me up/I need you to hold me/Lift me up/And keep me from drowning again." Good stuff, good stuff.
Simplicity: Is a scootch. All I want is the image of a single costume pattern. But nooooo. *sigh*
Greater Frustration is: Internal woozleness.
And what is up with: All the recent sleepiness?
Yay for: Mass tomorrow. Peace peace peace.

Here we are now - entertain us

Pinnochio: good. (Pride: increased.)

A Scholar of Magics: satisfactory (would have been wholly satisfactory had she concluded the romance, but since she allowed it whatsoever - even if stealing blatantly from Gaudy Night - it marks an improvement over the previous novel). Enjoyable fun.

Quiet houses: priceless.

Bizarre dreams: not quite so.

Amusement would be: writing up a list of all the ridiculous demands/limitations/absurdities put upon me by producerly types for shows. Mom and I were reminiscing and laughing (in very hindsight) over them. Aie!

"I don't want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon" - dang, good lyrics!

As much as I anticipate the beginning of the school year and the goodness of getting back to work, I'm dreading it as well. Good heavens - all the stress, the multitude of jobs that accumulate during the school year, the unforeseen disasters - whether academic, personal, spiritual or simply having to do with supposed communiques. Looking forward to the job - not the stress. It's been good to have a stress-free summer. Even if it took me this long to decompress. *sigh*

Prayers for all those I've promised to pray for. Which brings my mind tangentally to thanksgiving for the lovely bohemian hour on the Common before Hamlet and prayers for Jo.

Perhaps it would be nice to be a student again - enroll in Emerson - who knows....

Axiom du jour: If one is going to build a theatre - build it right the first time!

It was brought up to me during our houseguest's stay and at another time that I haven't dated in - what? - two years? Anyway, it was odd because the people in question immediately gave exclamations of sympathy that confused me greatly for a moment. Why were they sorry for me? I wasn't sorry for me. I hadn't really thought about it much at all (or at least, nothing like I used to pre-matriculation). They both assured me that there was time yet, that I might find a guy and get married and...y'know what? (This has got to be a grace!) I found that sympathy more disturbing. I mean, sure, I'm looking cockeyed at God and scowling half-heartedly and muttering and grumbling that the least He could do is let me have one real kiss before I marry Him and forego that nicety for all eternity, but at the same time, even that secular urgency doesn't seem so urgent. What I miss is romance - but perhaps I don't yearn for the truth of marriage to a mortal (that sounds so pretentious - but I can hardly say "man" because He is - oy!). I'm still not putting it right. I suppose all I can say is that to my surprise, I find that my heart is resting more and more in the separation from all that I've ever expected and so moving by degrees to entertain a very different - and, to be honest, far more romantic, in every aspect of that word, punnishly as well! - proposal. I'm not there yet - but I'm closer than I thought I was.

Mood: Pensive
Music: The Hamlet CD.
But now I must needs: Get me ready for Jills.

Pourquoi, my dear knight

Am I sleepy again? It appears sometimes it's not the hour, it is the company. Hence, randominity, in which I trust I make myself obscure:

Overprotective mothers are a pain. Not mine, thank God!

Sometimes Foxtrot is very true. And those who snoop are seldom rewarded. (Beyond which, many trust themselves to be obscure.)

Half-way through editing Christmas Carol.

Hamlet on the Common was by and large wonderful.

Shooting Hamlet promo tomorrow.

Red, Hot and Cole was pleasantly entertaining. Not so for the whole weekend, but there one is. Yay for indoor theatre.

Have done renderings of some costumes for Nutcracker. Poor Fritz.

Have gone costume shopping at Salvation Army - bwahahahhahahha.

Am most of the way through reading A Scholar of Magics which - once I finally got past the dullness of the first chapter - is really very good. Yay for Fantasy of Manners!

Did I mention grrrness at mad overprotectiveness?

Managed to bash out a scene between Clara and Sophia in Nutcracker which I like. Hoopla! Has one exchange that gets particular approval from all test audiences and includes in a later diatribe Johnny's teastrainer. Hurrah for inside jokes!

Must look into WGAEast.

Diet Coke (aka the caffine therein) is from the gods. As is Chinese food and chicken salad.

Enjoyed a particular 40 minute stretch this afternoon with no one in the casa but meine schweister und mich perhaps more than any time during the whole of summer vacation.

Now, however, am in mood to find a convenient wall and kick it. Or at least scowl unmercifully.

Pudding! We need more Thorton Wilder pudding in our lives! Doom on you to pudding naysayers! Bah and humbug! Pudding, Cornelius! Pudding! Pudding!

Pudding is a particularly silly looking word.

And there I shall end with exceptionally random randominity even for ye merrie olde typicalle randomynity. Poot to monthliness and perpetual woozlishness. (Nonproreantidisestablishmentarianismistically? Bwahahhaha.) Aaaaand...good night.

Mood: Nonproreantidisestablishmentarianismistically about sums it up, actually.
Music: None at the moment, the more my loss.
Thought: High strung folk ought not to be.