random, rambling

I am just frelling exhausted. Add to that a strange, though rather good Wench rehearsal tonight, as well as the consumption of sugar, to which my body is (of late) unaccustomed and reading the penultimate scene in the new HP book on the train ride home...

*sigh* I am drained. I have an intense fight rehearsal tomorrow night and I am NOT ready for it. I am disheartened by same.

I want to be a good writer. Better than good, even, and I know that's presumptuous and absurd but I can not help but hope. And dream. I want to be talented at this one thing... is that so much to hope for? *grumble,grrrr* Apparently, according to the editors at 'MrphleHmpsh' publishers.

On the plus side, Alen has his joust horse, and so far she's an absolute dream and a complete sweetheart. So why am I cranky-jealous instead of completely happy for him? *boots self in tuckus* I hate me in this mood.

Ick. I did warn of the rambling nature!
<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2003-6/97320/Mia.gif" width=202

"Mari is a tatchy wam...

...doo dah, doo dah!" (I blame Kelley for that... the 'doo dah,' not the tatchiness)

Honestly, though... I had a fight rehearsal tonight (stage combat, that is; choreographed and - in theory - relatively painless). I'm fighting the choreographer. I mentioned in an earlier entry that this is fraught with a tumult of feeling, but I'm trying to do my best and regard this in a positive light. Well... tonight I just couldn't. I don't know if it's because of the weather (humid and really blasted HOT!)or exhaustion or general lack of character, but I dreaded rehearsing this fight. I can NOT remember the choreography. I figured out why: IT MAKES NO SENSE. This is a fight that is entirely about flash and not at all about realism (however heightened) or telling a story. The choreographer had assured me it would be approached with some seriousness, and then this evening he dropped hints about possible 'gag' moments. YIPES! Isn't it bad enough that Maid Marian is fighting a random pirate? Does it have to become entirely about buffoonery and sight gags?

Anyway... we ran through the fight a few times. D was perplexed as to certain moves ("YOU CHOREOGRAPHED THEM!" I wanted to scream). Changed some things. Kept others. I wanted to cry. I hate this. And you know what the worst thing is? I know how lucky I am to have a chance to do this, get paid for it even. I usually adore this, embrace it, revel in it. I am so incredibly resentful that now I'm dreading it. To make matters worse, lots of people I like and care about are likely going to be seeing this fight this summer. And I'll simply look like @##.

Poo to grumbly me. I should suck it up and get over it. But I fear I need to wallow a bit, and y'all are going to be sucked in with me. Apologies!