I know that I am, generally, a boring person. My life is not that interesting: just another person battling minor fears and failing.
i slept in till 11, thus skipping my first class, and the rest of my day is full. 2pm class, 3:30 theatre workshop thing, 5pm call for rehearsal. My life is becoming abosrbed by tasks . . . i kind of like it

The rest of the deck crew for the play (I am working backstage on "Lovers and Executioners"at UNCG it opens Wednesday, if you live nearby you should go it is going to be a fantastic show) do nothing but complain. They are mostly the sort who feel that they, as actors, should only act and never do any of the grunt work. Admittedly, the work is hard, and not fun at times. spreading sealant on a floor that we know is not done being painted, yet we do it anyway because we are told. it goes on. I am enjoying the work though. I feel like i am part of that certain not so mysterious mystery of theatre.
One of the few interestng things i learned inhigh school about theatre hsitory was that, back in the day, the stage manager was called The conductor of secrets, except it was in french and i cant recall how to write it in french. To think that the audience doesnt know, understand, or care how the giant painting is rising up off the stage, or the black curtains are suddenly lowering from a place unseen, fills me with a strange feeling, that i enjoy.
By this time next week, when my arms will surely be much stronger, and my hands will most likely have a few blisters, i wonder if i will still find it all as enjoyable. I wonder if the mystery will be as beautiful.

I am taking my camera with me to rehearsal today, since i wont be back to my room until after rehearsal it is already packed in my bookbag. I will be sneaking pictures, so that i can remember. Remember the feeling of the ropes flying from my hands. of looking down through the grate under my feet and seeing other workers moving, the look of the stage from high up, and the actors, like ants.
fantastically alone. i enjoy it, i do.