post fragment

I feel pretty demented right now.

The reading for Little Trees got canceled yesterday, due to the playwright being overwhelmed - she's in another play, and the co-director of another theatre company.

DAMMIT!

Silly as it was, I was sorta hanging my hat on that making things a little brighter, so when I got that phone call in the elevator at work, it was like....fuuuuuck, man!

So I spent yesterday (and Sunday, albeit for different reasons) being angry and resentful of anyone who was in a remotely good mood. But today is a new day, and I'm back at the office, typin' away and contemplating what is, can and will be good. It seems to me being a freelance artist of any kind (or maybe a person of any kind...? the Suit doesn't seem to have feelings like this...) is a constant process of propping yourself up. Unless you're one of those rare creatures that doesn't give a damn about rejection of any kind, and rolls from audition to audition without a care.