I just lost one rat, and now Plugh -- the lumpy rat -- is starting to behave oddly. He's not gone yet; he did hip check his brother off a box last night for some peanut butter. But he's getting thinner and thinner, and is on his way out. I've asked him to please hold off dying until I have more than forty cents in my bank account.
I went into the studio Monday and danced until I hurt myself. Both in the sense that parts of me ache right now, and in the sense that I somehow managed to stab myself on some part of a smoothly-polished hardwood ballet floor, and didn't notice until I'd smeared blood all over my arm. Normally I'm better at pacing than that, but I am too tired to care about pretty much anything less immediate than dying pets right now.
I am so ground down that someone handed me an $800 laptop last night, free of charge, and I couldn't even be excited. I don't know that he paid $800 for it, and it would have been a f…
I try to do something new every December, to keep myself occupied while everyone else fucks off to spend time with family. This year I was costuming a Christmas show. The director asked me personally. Seven of the eight actors, and the vast majority of the tech people, were wonderful human beings.
One of the actresses is also a costumer. She did not like, or possibly did not comprehend, the idea that someone else was in charge of the dresses. She argued with every. single. thing. I pulled. For everybody. At every stage. I don't know how she was able to spend so much time hanging over my shoulder while she was also supposed to be rehearsing. Nothing was right. Ever.
I made it all the way to the cue-to-cue, when a different member of the crew cornered me in the ladies dressing room, badgered me until I cried, then did it harder until I ran away and locked myself into a bathroom to make her stop.
I told the production manager I was leaving the building. It crossed my mind …