08/10/2002 - 12:30 p.m.

Here I stand, head in hand.

Last night at Laramie rehearsal I discovered that two projects for Fundies were due today, and not on Thursday as I had thought. One of these was a drawing project that I had assumed would take me about two hours, two hours Wednesday evening after I had finished fighting with my speech.

So, I realise that Tuesday morning is much more urgent than Wednesday afternoon, and after rehearsal I rushed back to complete both projects. By two AM I was in bed.

I awoke this morning at eight. Completely did not hear my alarm clock. I have a class at eight. Somehow, I arrived at Seerley Hall halfway across campus about three minutes later. I have no recollection of getting out of bed, of getting dressed or of walking to Seerley. And I managed it in three minutes. A process that usually takes me 20.

Well, I arrive at Fundies very proud of my drawing. I'd worked on it two hours, and I only just found out it was due the night before, hell yeah. What's the first announcement Leonard has for us? The picture's due on Thursday. I could've curled up and died right then. The world fell from beneath me. I could've stayed up doing my speech, which I desperately need to do. I didn't need to work on the fucking drawing at all!

So, then we had our Open Scenes in progress due. I completely fucked it up, forgot all but two of the lines. They're all these shitty little sentence fragments that I can say when Nick and I just run through the lines, but up there, my brain died. Tried again three times because there was simply no way. This is of course, due to my lack of sleep and concentration brought on by the mess I've managed to work myself into with this damnned speech.

So, it's raining, and I have to get to Wal-Mart between three and five. Work on my speech during the show, and type it tonight and tomorrow morning.

Right now, I just want the sun to come out, and I want someone I love to drive up in a car, give me a hug, and tell me that they'll take me to Wal-Mart and everything will be OK. How much is bus fare to Chicago?

Historically, October is not a good month for me. Although I saw on USA today that I apparently fit the description of the manically depressed, and have for the past seven years. Maybe I should call Miss Cleo and ask her opinion on it before I buy the medication the tabloids tell me I should get.