28/10/2001 - 10:56 a.m.

Daylight Savings Time (and other selected rambles)

Em, good morning. I'm a little confused, isn't it almost noon? Well, who cares, I got an extra hour of sleep! OK, that sounds a little stupid when you consider that I went to take a two hour nap at six o clock last night after rehearsal, and didn't wake up until two AM (or, with savings time, would that then be three AM?). So, I had to stay asleep until this morning, and when my alarm went off, at, hmmm, well, it's set for six, I ended up going back to sleep until what I thought was 11:30 but was really only ten thirty, so I have no idea how much sleep I got last night, but I'm not sleepy anymore, so that's a good thing.

I was supposed to go to Elena's Murder Mystery party last night, but bitchy mother lady refused. No explanation, just flat out no. Not like anything was going on, I went home and fell asleep (like I mentioned). I'm not going to raise the question this morning because I don't really feel like arguing my case for a little atypicalness. Hell, she was practically engaged to my Dad when she was my age, but do I ever leave my house if it's not to do with school or some "family outing"? No. I'm not just anit-social because I am a little, I'm anti-social by parental discretion. That sucks. I mean, if I were a different sort of person, I would be a bigger liar than I am anyway. (I lie like Holden Caulfield, just out of the blue and for the hell of it.) I would be downright dishonest- "Where are you going?" "To rehearsal." "Oh, really? Until when?" "Oh, ten or eleven, and don't worry, Andy said he could bring me home." But the thing is, I'm too chicken. (As mentioned at least yesterday.)

During rehearsal, Ren and I went down to the boiler rooms...because the door was unlocked, that's why. We were just walking around, looking at all the fuse switches and stuff, and the tunnel to the pool, and the fallout shelter (which is more like a wind tunnel- help us all if there's a real disaster when we need to get to a civil defense shelter), and all the electrical cables and shit that nobody but the janitors get to see. I was scared to death that we'd turn a corner and some deranged, mangey, forgotten old janitor was going to jump out at us, waving a mop and jabbering obcenities, an ancient ring of keys rattling as he chased us into the flames of some coal burning boiler he had been put in charge up at some lost point in the mid twenties. We'd end up dead down there in the boiler room in rented costumes, and no one might notice until Joy saw that our hangers were empty. These were ligitimate thoughts running through my head.

I have a sense of adventure, but only when I know bad things can't happen. (That sounds really great, doesn't it?) So, whenever I take a risk, it's a really big thing. For example, take, oh, seven days ago. That I'm still worrying over because I have no idea what the implications of my actions might be.

OK, anyway, I've One Act rehearsal at one today. It might be a good thing for me to go work on my lines and stuff. Ah, give me a bit yet.

Actually, One Act isn't going terribly. I don't loathe doing it, T's a fantastic director (to anyone who disagrees, I'm sorry, but I prefer her to Glawe). There's a lot I could get into with this line of discussion, but for the sake of my not wanting to get worked up, I won't. I just have to say, I'm really glad that I'm doing this show, even though it often has to come at the end of my line of priorities. (Dolly and school are so far up there on the list simply because of the amount of TIME they take.)

My mouth tastes like ink. I don't know why. I haven't been anywhere near a pen. That's odd.

Last night I dreampt I was in Italy because I forgot that T lived in Iowa, and flew to Italy to go to rehearsal. (On the way, we got to see the biggest parking garage on the planet... I don't get it either.) In Italy, my parents got all pissed off because there was no Kingman Blvd. in the entire country, but decided to go see some Italian lady about some geneology stuff (which is nuts because there's no Italian in the family on either side). The lady wasn't home, but the door was unlocked, so we went in and looked around, and I kept hearing all this Italian in my head (I don't know, I thought it was Italian). So, we left and ran into Brandy, who knew Italian (she doesn't) and wanted me to come with her. Well, my parents (wonder of wonders) agreed, as long as we promised to be back to America by Monday in time for school (keep in mind, it was Sunday in Italy, I don't know how the time difference works, but I don't think there was any way we could make it). So, we went off together to look for something. Then things flip to the Macy's Thanksgiving parade, and then two or three little snippets of dreams that I can't really remember. I don't know how to read dreams, but well, if this is symbolic of something, I would sure as hell like to know what.