quaNDaRY

Okay, so one of the adoring readership let slip that they knew the director was a germ-phob. ( I can't fault my readers when I play with fire)... I scrolled back and I've determined there's no salacious commentary and will continue to write about said director. I suppose I would continue even if there was bcs it's currently such a large part of my life that it would amputate something quite vital. I told the director that when we knew each other better I'd read him excerpts- that seemed to make him more nervous. It's not a bad thing, just something to ponder. It'll be interesting to see if he says, don't write about me. . . and maybe I'm secretly looking forward to that sort of conversation... so just now i decided to email him the one line about blood on the cement. I don't know why I'm obsessing about this. I'd say something about--- but then---

Other items:
-Had a bite of chocolate. a sip of green tea.
-Monitored pumpkins, looked for baby gourds... hey anyone want the gourd to say something particular? now's your chance to write in your vote.
-Head wound still tender.
-Lips constantly chapped throughout the day.
-Right foot cramped during treadmilling. Thought about levitating... light as a feather, stiff as a board. Thought not a biblical precedent, further thought, why would spirits bother levitating people for fun.
-I hate sighing in unision: example, when somebody says something interesting or moving, you go: awwww, or mmm, or ooo. is it the cynic in me? blood curdling, violent fist inducing response to a room full of awww, mmm, oooo. heartfelt seeming insincere gestures of sympathy and understanding. in unison. BAH! mmm. yes.

Tonight went to work, just expecting to help the director gear up for the shoot- so i was wearing baggy jammie type pants and a tank top. Then 30 minutes in, there comes the producer, then a few minutes later the entire band, their posse of 3, the talent, the costume designer and the prop guy. CRAP. I'm sitting there ready for bed, suddenly conscious of my barearms, my sagging pants... and wanting to just teleport anywhere but there... in all it was fine- i gave them water and brought out some snacks, but part of me was like and you didn't tell me because? It seems like it's something you might mention to someone in passing, like hey, by the way, all these people are coming over for wardrobe fitting and... but you know, whatever- I'll flow with it. Sure I have a mellow image and people construe me as "laid back" but really I'm fairly uptight and scheduled when it comes down to it. I can explain the juxtaposition in that my mom is a scattered, creative, secretly controlling earth mother which made me react against her by having an ordered non-chaotic environment. in addition to childhood trauma, i have german heritage... and of course I worked hard through the years with my body image- so I'm fairly too relaxed when it comes to what people see me in- sort of like i see life as a dress rehearsal and special occasions as exactly that- but every once and a while my moms earth mother indoctrination subverts and the OCD, and as a friend said, my "task oriented" self, emerge and I'm unnerved by my outfit, my lack of... my overwelming overpresence of... and generally wonder why surprises exist, why i'm not in control of every thing and how i can become in control of everything. You see I'm about balance. It's the best way is it not?


Back to the L&O CI rerun.