In theatre, we don't leave work till the job is done. This is true. So true. I'm saying hi to my fourth 12-hour work day in a row, with 45 minutes for lunch and 20 minutes for dinner. MUSIC MAN, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! And, yes, I'm exhausted. Yes, I'm annoyed. Yes, I want to be elsewhere (my GOD do I want to be elsewhere), but it's ok. At least I have three of six completed gym suits/bathing costumes to add to my portfolio--which, with alterations, were a pain in my ass. I do have a confession: I haven't exactly been putting things together as my shop manager would like. Most of the time the way she wants me to do things is, presumably, the way I would do them myself, as she gives me the job and says nothing about the way its been done. But sometimes she gives me the most ass-backwards, time-consuming task and I think to myself, "I could get this done this way in half the time and no one would ever know, because the evidence is inside the garment."
So I do it my way. Would I ever do this to Alisa? Hell no! But she's Alisa and I want to do things the way she wants them done because her way is almost always the best, most efficient way. Plus I love her and want to please her, but that's besides the point.
I would like to leave. So badly. I have a roommate now, and she's super nice and invites me out with her and her friends. I can never go, of course, because if I'm not in the shop I'm sleeping, but I'm hoping once Music Man opens I'll have a little more time to go out and meet new people. People who don't work in the scene shop and pretend to like me when they see me but secretly don't give a crap if they never talk to me again. I'm a little bitter, yes. I'm not used to this happening to me, so I haven't been the best sport about this. It's like when I get a headache--I am such a freaking baby. I rarely get headaches, so when I do . . . Yeah, sometimes I'm a pain in the ass.
I had the worst one the other day because I'd slightly OD'd on caffeine (it was, like, hour 9 of 12 in the shop), and our designer Kevin was doing fittings, and I couldn't have cared less because I was cranky, except . . . a really cute guy walked in. And he was the nicest actor of all the others who'd come in for fittings. He's cute--but , of course, possibly gay. I asked one of the Muhlenberg girls about him and she said he "talks about girls, but no one knows his sexual preference(s)." Ain't that always the way? I told her that we didn't have nearly as many guys in our department at Arcadia, but that the ones we did have were straight. I also told her that they treat girls however they want and the girls let it happen because there are only three or four choices in the entire department so the women take what they can get. She said Muhlenberg had tons of guys but they were primarily gay. We have such bad luck in that way, us theatre women. I'm just waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet and genuinely want to be with me. I think Jay does . . . he just doesn't always put in the effort. I know he's busy, and I'm busy, but when you say you're going to text/call, DO IT. That's your lesson for the day, gents. Do what you say you're going to do, and everything will be just fine.
But I digress. 12-hour days. Yes. I'm headed to one in fifteen minutes. But I'm thinking it won't be so bad today, because my shop manager is going to realize that we're ahead on fitting notes and have nothing to do but seam rip every blessed part of these band uniforms we ordered and put it back together without the color blue anywhere to be seen. I'm sorry, band geeks of years gone by. I love the band, I do, but the uniforms have to get destroyed regardless. I do what I'm told . . . most of the time.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Select 55 + Styrofoam Act II = TEXT ME
Yes, a 6-pack of Budweiser Select 55 is currently sitting on my desk. Well, there are actually only 4 left, plus a half-eaten bag of practically butterless Act II popcorn. Oh, and on my computer screen is 3 minutes of a movie started on Netflix that I no longer feel like watching.
A boy is at fault. Well, I guess that's unfair. Multiple boys are at fault, plus the fact that I don't really have friends here and so I went out shopping with graduation money that should be in my account but my card got declined for insufficient funds at the bar so now I'm thinking . . . wtf, PNC? But we'll save that worry for tomorrow. I have acquiantances, I've realized. Quite a few. And basically one friend, but I can't expect him to hang out with me all the time. Especially because he has lots of friends and we're only the beginnings of friends. Except that he kissed me the other night, quite a few times. Sober, too. It was insanely sweet. So I thought . . . that meant we'd hang out? We hang out when I initiate things. WHICH IS ALWAYS HOW IT IS! So no more. Nooooo moreeeee.
I'm dealing with the same crap from over an hour away. "I messed things up, I want to make this work this time, I want to see you, we can make it through the summer because I want to be with you." All unprompted, mind, and occassionally I see the proof of these statements, but lately not so much. 3 days without so much as a "hope you're having a good day." But I won't budge. Even if it means I get zero texts and/or calls the entire day and sit here drinking Select 55 by myself, probably putting on Merlin at some point, then sleeping a few hours and getting up to go to the gym at 7am before 9 straight hours of sewing.
But work isn't all bad. I'm exhausted afterward, true, but I feel some sense of accomplishment this week. I've built a few things and am, unfortunately, undergoing a series of alterations of bloody men's suit jackets. Ladies, never let your boyfriends buy a suit jacket that overlaps at the cuff, because alterations on that shit are horrible. Trust me. But it beats Vanessa, who spent 4 1/2 hours hemming a voluminous skirt for a girl that barely reaches 5 feet tall. Poor thing. She went to the bar straight after work to wash her woes away with beer. Clearly, I should've gone with her. Except my card probably would've been declined there, too. EITHER WAY, work isn't awful anymore, it's just very tiring. And now I'm craving attention, as I am wont to do.
Still, I refuse to budge. No sir, I will not text, or call, or knock on the door of, or pine away for, or strategically place myself in the kitchen/laundry room/lounge, etc etc etc. Nope. Staying here with my beer and popcorn and Merlin (yes!) and hoping. Which is better than being the pathetic blob I know I am at times. I would like to point out that I have done this before, and rarely does it ever work to my advantage. I'm usually happier just initiating and getting what I want than waiting. Which is already making me rethink my promise not to do a damn thing. EFF! Why am I so flaky about these things? Gah. What's worse--losing your pride or being alone? I'll let you know tomorrow . . .
A boy is at fault. Well, I guess that's unfair. Multiple boys are at fault, plus the fact that I don't really have friends here and so I went out shopping with graduation money that should be in my account but my card got declined for insufficient funds at the bar so now I'm thinking . . . wtf, PNC? But we'll save that worry for tomorrow. I have acquiantances, I've realized. Quite a few. And basically one friend, but I can't expect him to hang out with me all the time. Especially because he has lots of friends and we're only the beginnings of friends. Except that he kissed me the other night, quite a few times. Sober, too. It was insanely sweet. So I thought . . . that meant we'd hang out? We hang out when I initiate things. WHICH IS ALWAYS HOW IT IS! So no more. Nooooo moreeeee.
I'm dealing with the same crap from over an hour away. "I messed things up, I want to make this work this time, I want to see you, we can make it through the summer because I want to be with you." All unprompted, mind, and occassionally I see the proof of these statements, but lately not so much. 3 days without so much as a "hope you're having a good day." But I won't budge. Even if it means I get zero texts and/or calls the entire day and sit here drinking Select 55 by myself, probably putting on Merlin at some point, then sleeping a few hours and getting up to go to the gym at 7am before 9 straight hours of sewing.
But work isn't all bad. I'm exhausted afterward, true, but I feel some sense of accomplishment this week. I've built a few things and am, unfortunately, undergoing a series of alterations of bloody men's suit jackets. Ladies, never let your boyfriends buy a suit jacket that overlaps at the cuff, because alterations on that shit are horrible. Trust me. But it beats Vanessa, who spent 4 1/2 hours hemming a voluminous skirt for a girl that barely reaches 5 feet tall. Poor thing. She went to the bar straight after work to wash her woes away with beer. Clearly, I should've gone with her. Except my card probably would've been declined there, too. EITHER WAY, work isn't awful anymore, it's just very tiring. And now I'm craving attention, as I am wont to do.
Still, I refuse to budge. No sir, I will not text, or call, or knock on the door of, or pine away for, or strategically place myself in the kitchen/laundry room/lounge, etc etc etc. Nope. Staying here with my beer and popcorn and Merlin (yes!) and hoping. Which is better than being the pathetic blob I know I am at times. I would like to point out that I have done this before, and rarely does it ever work to my advantage. I'm usually happier just initiating and getting what I want than waiting. Which is already making me rethink my promise not to do a damn thing. EFF! Why am I so flaky about these things? Gah. What's worse--losing your pride or being alone? I'll let you know tomorrow . . .
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