loosen up my buttons, babe

but you keep frontin
sayin what you gon' do to me
but i ain't seen nothin'



The juxtaposition of such wicked bad dance pop along with the type of day I've had is weird.

The morning began strangely. I woke up an hour late, which never ever happens. Jetted out the door with Metro in a cab, Boss opting to nurse one of her many many illnesses and steer clear of "stage combat" class. I checked my bag for scripts. Check. Checked my brain for what the day entailed.

It's a rough thing, a fult tilt NP day. If you do it right. By the time I get to the point where I can sit on my bed and try to complete non-NP work, I have:

1. read, had critiqued and re-read a Showcase scene
2. written another Showcase scene
3. learned Spanish choreography
4. played class stage manager
5. gotten my Joan LaPucelle monologue on its' feet for Gary
6. rehearsed "Danny & the Deep Blue Sea"
7. done 40 minutes of alignment
8. bought and read half of a teacher-recommended book on myths & folklore

So then I talk to my primary collaborator - Ms. Mom - and get the lowdown on the pages she needs for the Hunter show she's directing and I'm writing. I get a phone call from Ms. Nasty, and arrange to help her with her choreography. I re-read a Greek myth, cross-reference online, write the scenes Ms. Mom needs, make notes in the Hair diary, practice my song for NP twice and somewhere in there, cook dinner and do laundry.

AAAAAAAAGHHHHH.

Inventory makes it even more frightening. I know we only have a month of class left, so I have to remember NOT to think about it, and merely soldier on. Because a lot of REALLY REALLY good shit is going on, and I thank God & the fates for that. Pausing to take stock is not an option.

Although, on Saturday, for my birthday event, pausing to take drugs IS an option.

Judge away...with seven days of my schedule, I reserve my right to recreate when I turn double 2s.