You say Goodbye, I say Hello...

I should be working. I just don't feel like it so much.

See? Wouldn't you want to hire me?

It's a beautiful spring day. This holds promise. I take it as a good omen of the show opening tonight.

Butterflies in tummy.

I don't get nervous, I just get really fucking excited to be on stage. My part allows for grand entrances and I couldn't be happier about that. My makeup for the show is insane, I love that too.

I remember a million years ago when Daniel first sent me the script. I was embroiled in UT Theatre drama, I'm sure, and it laid unattended in my inbox for several months. I think I was doing Art of War then or something--probably freaking out about the barely there nature of my costume for that show. It was this white sheath that when I first tried on in the dressing room, looked fine. I came out into the stage lights and looked down.

"Umm, Gwen? Devon?"

"Yeah, Carrie?"

"Umm...This is my costume. And this [points] is my vagina."

"We should do something about that."

"You think?"

I think I ended up wearing nude briefs under a white leotard and two pairs of tights.

That wasn't the story I was originally planning to share. Oh, me and my A.D.D.

What I was going to share was when I finally got around to printing out Daniel's play, many months later (I can't read scripts on the computer--I like the feeling of having a hard copy in my hands), I printed out at the Theater Lab and was walking home to my apartment, just thinking I'd skim it and see if I liked it as much as I liked Fuck it and Get Out. After the first page, there was no more skimming. Full on reading while walking into squirrels and sorority girls. I almost got hit by 2 cars trying to cross MLK without looking. That's how much I loved his script. I came home and Dustin had crawled into my apartment through the window I kept unlocked and was sitting on my couch, watching TV. I made him turn it off (imagine me, opting NOT to watch TV) and read it. We squealed like little children, and it was the first time I got really excited at the prospect of moving to New York and trying to Live the Life.

And now here I am. And we're doing the play. And I'm happy with that. I look around my rehearsal at all these people that I love dearly and I can't believe we actually somehow managed to do what we said we would.

I'm itching to get into the space. I want to serve up the play on a silver platter.

But once again, in conflict.

Haley's gone.

She left a note. I didn't want to open it by myself.

It's very sad. Funny enough, Haley, of all people, was my thread to sanity for a little while there.

We said our goodbyes last night. I gave her all that I could in that hug. I told her I loved her very much, and meant it. She's an amazing lady. I wish she would stay, but I understand why she's leaving. She has a big heart and big eyes and a big voice, and if she feels stifled here. So go home, lady. There's nothing worse than a Repressed Haley. She must be allowed to do what she does, which is insanity and loveliness.

So there is much energy zooming around in my brain, my body is exhausted, the amount of stuff that needs to get done is astounding, my schedule is packed and spring has arrived. This is when I'm at my best. This is when it really gets cookin'.

Sit back. Relax. Enjoy the ride.