Feeling: determined
Listening to: La Petite Jacqueline - Give Me Up
Reading/Watching: My Sister's Keeper, Jodi Picoult

Noteworthy events have been happening for the past week or so, and I haven't said much about them, which I suppose is slightly unfair, since obviously everyone in the world is waiting anxiously for updates. I really am that interesting, you know.

Last Wednesday, my dear friend Bork was in a horrific car accident, and though his body was not badly damaged, his spirit was. As a result of money issues following the accident, he had to leave the show we were in together, which was understandably difficult for him, since he's the theatre-mad boy who has been encouraging me to get back into the "useless hobby" that I love so much. He talked me up to the director of the show, so that I would be allowed to audition at a college I do not, and never did, attend. I was cast as Lady Capulet, and he was cast as Mercutio. And we were both thrilled.

As the play wore on and cut severely into my free time (five jobs do not balance easily with a 16-hour-a-week rehearsal schedule), I began to regret getting into it, but decided it was worth it to do theater again, to have that outlet. It's as much a place to pour excess emotion as these blogs are. Besides, once we began the actual staging process, Bork finally started coming to rehearsals, so we could always clown around and enjoy ourselves in between working hard.

And now, it's the crappy part of rehearsals. We open next Friday, a few of the actors still don't have their lines memorized (they're about halfway there, two weeks after our official Off Book date), and the director is having conniptions. This happens every time I do a show: things get hard, things get stressful, but I bully through, because it's what you do. The reward is slow in coming, but opening night usually reminds us all exactly why we put ourselves through this. It's coming, and I know in two weeks I'll be able to look back and be glad I stuck with it, but right now my best friend is no longer at rehearsals with me, I am overworked and tired, and I am thisclose to throwing up my hands (the only time I was on the verge of quitting before was when I came down with flu/bronchitis a bit more than a week before Best Little Whorehouse opened, and I didn't think I'd get my voice back. That time, the director looked me in the eye and said, "Come back whenever you're able. Just come back." I doubt this director would do the same).

Last night, as I was rushing out the door to another run-through, mon coeur asked me, "So is it still fun anymore, or is it just a burden that you wish you hadn't gotten into?" I had to think about it, but my answer was "Both."

And we have a new Mercutio. I don't like him yet, because he's not Bork, but I'm willing to wait patiently and see if that feeling changes. The actor himself seems like a decent guy, especially since he's doing the equivalent of what our Substitute Iago did back during senior year and Othello... back then, it was the marvelous Tom, stepping up and memorizing a huge pivotal part in two weeks, and I thought he was a hero.

So now I'm just buckling down and hanging on. Tomorrow night, we won't have the stage manager calling lines if we forget, so I may very well be whispering cues to people myself. We'll just pretend Lady Capulet had a stroke and talks out the side of her mouth sometimes. I'm also being all strict-substitute-teacher backstage, running over scenes three, four times in a row. Every time someone sits back and sighs over a missed word, I say "Again, from the beginning." And you know? I think it's working. We may scrape along by our fingernails, but we'll get there.

As for me, I'm trying to keep things fresh. I'm trying to find the fun things, and reminding myself that with every new project comes new burdens and new friends. I'm glad to have met the people in the cast, and I hope they're glad to have met me. I can't wait to see what happens when the last few pieces fit into place.

I certainly hope my friends can come see the show, if possible. My family is widespread and unable to attend, so I'm hoping the friendly faces I see will be some of those reading this now. The only enticement I can offer, other than some Shakespeare and the possibility of inventive Elizabethan improv, is that you will get to see Katie give her impression of traditional Brazilian dances, when performed by a graceless giraffe on a floor coated with Crisco.

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