Feeling: cross-eyed kind of tired
Listening to: Breeders - Cannonball
Reading/Watching: re-reading the One Act to set up blocking and stage design.

There was something in the water today, I'm telling you.

I got more hair-tossing, teeth-smacking, thirteen-year-old attitude in the space of three hours than I usually get in a month. Lots of snippy, whiny, bitchy little comments from about a half dozen different kids whose mammas never learned to smack them upside the head when they spewed crap like that.

By the time fifth period rolled around, I knew that if one more kid mouthed off to me, they were going to die.

Luckily fifth is when my assistant director arrives for the afternoon, and fifth is also my big, silly, lovable class which is always good for some precociously talented sixth-graders with wide grins who wave to me when I make eye contact.

They have no idea how lucky they are...

So my day was rescued by youthful enthusiasm (eleven year olds who nailed their sight-reading!), a bit of a break (actually got to sit down while the assistant taught a class), and a really good after-school rehearsal with the drama club. I taught them about the nine sections of the stage, what the wings are for, how to use stage space and walk downstage of set pieces, open up to the audience, use upstage hands to point or gesture, don't stand in a line, don't cluster, etc. Last play we mastered projecting and cheating out ("It's Charlie Brown Christmas, not The Butt Show!"), and the best part this time around was that they remembered it!

In other news, on Tuesday I am going into a real-live therapy session for the first time in my entire life. It kinda freaks me out, and yet I'm oddly excited. Wouldn't it be nice if talking to him actually helped me figure things out? Wouldn't it be great if after unloading six months of pent-up feelings I could say, "Okay, so I'm not a heartless bitch, I'm just __________."

I challenge you to leave a comment filling in that blank. Best response gets a cookie, or something.

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