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Hello again.
It's not that I haven't had things to discuss...I have, for example, just begun work on New Leaf's new, original work The Long Count. Rehearsals began earlier this week and have so far tapped into some very exciting potential.
I spent a little over a week sicker than I can remember being; barely able to rise from bed, so miserable that I actually skipped last week's Too Much Light rehearsal, which is not a decision any of us would ever undertake lightly.
I continue to wait to hear if graduate school wants me.
I continue to look for work. I continue to attempt to teach a bunch of rambunctious high school students how to create a show from scratch. I continue to set up gigs and tours and I continue to produce short work for the show.
I continue. The mere act of that, of continuing has been tossing me into a number of extreme mood swings, where I go from the brief euphoria of tiny accomplishment into the despair of the increasingly lengthy duration when I seem unable to accomplish anything at all. When every item of junk mail in my Inbox sets me to rage, when the realization that yet another job opportunity is a scam to get me to buy $500 worth of software makes me want to rend reality asunder, when I want to reach through the screen of the computer and throttle until dead the usual right-wing jackasses who inform me that the reason the economy tanked is that I didn't want to work, that the way out of this recession is to give our corporate overlords more tax cuts and less regulation, and then maybe they will do me the favor of hiring me at a menial wage and a crap health plan instead of simply cutting more corners and giving themselves larger bonuses.
All I seem to do anymore is continue without managing to actually begin.
It's not that I haven't had things to discuss...I have, for example, just begun work on New Leaf's new, original work The Long Count. Rehearsals began earlier this week and have so far tapped into some very exciting potential.
I spent a little over a week sicker than I can remember being; barely able to rise from bed, so miserable that I actually skipped last week's Too Much Light rehearsal, which is not a decision any of us would ever undertake lightly.
I continue to wait to hear if graduate school wants me.
I continue to look for work. I continue to attempt to teach a bunch of rambunctious high school students how to create a show from scratch. I continue to set up gigs and tours and I continue to produce short work for the show.
I continue. The mere act of that, of continuing has been tossing me into a number of extreme mood swings, where I go from the brief euphoria of tiny accomplishment into the despair of the increasingly lengthy duration when I seem unable to accomplish anything at all. When every item of junk mail in my Inbox sets me to rage, when the realization that yet another job opportunity is a scam to get me to buy $500 worth of software makes me want to rend reality asunder, when I want to reach through the screen of the computer and throttle until dead the usual right-wing jackasses who inform me that the reason the economy tanked is that I didn't want to work, that the way out of this recession is to give our corporate overlords more tax cuts and less regulation, and then maybe they will do me the favor of hiring me at a menial wage and a crap health plan instead of simply cutting more corners and giving themselves larger bonuses.
All I seem to do anymore is continue without managing to actually begin.