In about 15 minutes today will end.
I was struck about an hour ago how I do miss writing, in this case journaling because it gives a subjective snapshot into one's life. A chance to peer into where you are, right now, and what you're thinking. That chance is unique to this moment in time, never to be repeated, and all the little moments so quickly forgotten that add up to have a profound effect on who you are and where you're going. Every meeting, every choice, an opportunity, a chance to follow a new path -- or not.
This morning actually began last night as I was figuring out my schedule for today. Lots to do, lots of anxiety. I had a math test today... a math test I was sorely underprepared for. The sort of test where I mentally prepared myself, before walking through the door, for the inevitable failure. It's that feeling you get before you get a shot at the Doctor's office - it's going to hurt, regardless of how much they say it won't, so you steel yourself for the pain - so to did I against the roadblock that is College Algebra.
But that's not how the day began.
Last night I had got home late, thanks to a rehearsal that ran 45 minutes late. All the world's a stage wasn't just a phrase for me yesterday, it was the essence of my day, literally. I was on that stage for most of the day. Class, dress rehearsal, then rehearsal. It was also an awful day. One of the more awful, I couldn't act to save my life - just really terrible. Line flubs, lack of focus, and worst of all -- confidence proved arrogance -- that is, I felt great walking up there, mostly prepared... only to crash and burn in Hindenburg like grandeur.
I was exhausted but I still set my alarm for 6:30 (at the latest) and then two more, just in case. According to SleepBot I slept 5 hours and 3 minutes. Moved around a good amount too. So around 6am, I woke up (variable alarm time, I'm trying it out, unsure about it).
It was still dark out but the color was just beginning to be splashed in the sky.
I got up, started watering the back yard, getting together my belongings, found my stage makeup that I needed to bring today, took the waste barrels to the curb, and prepared a protein shake. The only moment that stands out (besides being relieved I wasn't going to have to go buy eyeliner) was pulling the hose into the backyard, the sky still that deep blueish color and looking west to see a bright, mystical full moon hovering far above the horizon but close enough to the ground to be mesmerizing.
It was a crisp image, striking. I smiled, half wanting to get my cell phone and drive down to the pier to take some pictures but knowing that this was a moment that would pass all too quickly, never to be captured.
True to form, just a few minutes later when I stepped outside the moon had sunk just enough to enter the haze, the sky was no longer the deep navy-blue but a kiss of pink had been added.
My jog was weak, too fat at the moment, but it happened. A woman asked, while holding a lonely leash, if I had seen a brown dog. I hadn't. Sorry. Shortly thereafter a young boy, 10 or 11 rode by on his bike, with his black helmet on. This early in the morning and no backpack, undoubtedly looking for that lost dog.
At home I debated a shower but I had run out of time. I had spent so much time away from the house that my motorcycle battery hadn't fully charged (the internal recharging system is currently broken) so I knew I couldn't take it today (another long day).
I debated Uber or Bus? I'm poor, I decided on bus. Before leaving I put out breakfast items for my adopted Grandmother (a whole other story) and decided full on casual, t-shirt and gym shorts. Today was game-day, no fooling around, I distinctly remember thinking I wasn't going to need to impress anyone.
I made my way to a nearby supermarket and Starbucks. It was strange because their parking lot was shutdown and it looked like the store might be closed. Thankfully, no. I had an apple and Americano. The cashier was unusually friendly, likely because I had made fun of them when I walked up and they were discussing "store politics" - you know - who hates who and why or why not. She encouraged me to complete the questionnaire if "I had time" but not to mention they had been gossiping.
I sat there, playing on my phone, waiting comfortably for the time to lapse, I had long ago missed the first bus I wanted to take just getting ready to leave. I got a coffee refill and headed to the bus stop only to find the bus must have come 5 minutes early (I had arrived at the stop with 5 minutes to spare).
I stood there debating whether I had the time to wait for another bus or if the official "Bus Prediction" app might actually be right and the bus was still just 5 minutes away (it stayed "5 minutes away" for 20 minutes before suddenly just disappearing).
The UberX driver took longer than the "estimated 1 minute" arrival time, too. No matter, he was friendly and I was on my way to school (even if he seemed to be driving just a touch slower than necessary, milking that fare).
He asked me what I did, what I studied. I asked him... he mentioned that a lot of people seemed to hate the idea of God to which I retorted that I think most people don't hate the idea but the way some people choose to speak for God. Using God and the teachings of the bible as a justification for discrimination and hate (How many more wars have religious institutions fought than, say, institutions of education?).
He found that "insightful." I laughed. I'm not often referred to in such a manner. However, his flattery turned sour when he appeared to leave his UberX meter running after I got out of the car for an extra 3 minutes.
To proclaim disappointment in the lack of faith and reaffirm the reason for the lack of faith in one UberX ride seems to only confirm that God must surely have a supernatural sense of humor.
My first stop was the library. Not yet packed full of students, I snagged a seat near a precious power outlet seat which I was able to claim a few minutes later. Power outlets are a hot commodity.
I did some work for my company, a little programming and then realized I wasn't going to be able to complete this project quickly and needed to study. Now. A quick trip to the Reserve Desk and I had my College Algebra book.
I peered at the first assigned question. #15.... I was stuck.
I could not do it, I didn't understand where the denominator for the formula to complete the square came from (my notes indicated it was not a constant but derived some other source... incorrectly so).
I quickly realized I was in desperate need of help. I snap-chatted Sarah, she had offered before, to help, but had been uncharacteristically silent recently. Then the desperate Googling.
I'm not terrible at math in the traditional sense that people are terrible at math. I get many of the concepts, I cognitively understand them and can apply them in the moment -- and then I promptly forget them -- struggling to remember the exact steps like poor Hansel following the breadcrumbs after having been devoured by the greedy forest birds. His path to freedom from a dark forest obscured as my path to freedom from a dark equation is equally difficult to discern.
It turns out the school does have some tutoring. A few copies later (on the older, easier to use copy machines that don't require a PhD to operate) I found myself in a tutoring center, the math table appropriately swamped with people (a mysterious reddish haired girl sitting at a table by herself piquing my interest for a moment; she never looked up).
I abandoned that location for the math department's tutoring center. As if reflecting the bowels of my mind, it was hot and swamp like, apparently the A/C was off or malfunctioning. I entered the math tutoring sauna and setup camp. A desperate plea to another friend met with an offer to come assist.
One of the math tutors did give some help - which was so cursory as to be useless - he stood there assuming I understood that which I clearly did not and explaining that which I did understand. I, so confused and lost, as to be a foreigner in faraway land. It's not just that I don't speak the language, it's that I don't even know the name or description of the location I'm trying to get to.
My sweet friend arrived and she promptly offered assistance though she had been up till 3am studying for a chemistry exam she had already taken today. Her friend whipping out his drawing notebook. She walked me through the problem, taking the much safer route of explaining too much rather than not enough.
I made progress but I was still on section 3.1 out of 5 and only a couple more hours of study left (not to mention a hundred or so homework problems). She convinced me to give up the idea of completing all my homework and just go for pure understanding since I had a test at 7pm, looming over me.
I worked until about 1pm when I got an urgent text alert. An automated system had detected the company website was offline. Just great, just fantastic, just... I would have continued on into a long tirade of curse words and frustration flicking but I needed to get fixing.
I whipped out the MacBook laptop, placed it atop my notebook full of math equations and began diagnosing. Quickly discovering it was a major issue, not easily fixed and then not under my control (a service provider issue).
Still, I had to send alert messages and see if there was any way to bypass the problem (there wasn't but in the process of trying, I confused their system and broke something else).
Time ticked away, and soon it was 2pm. I wasn't hungry yet, strangely, perhaps the anxiety? I knew, though, that I had to eat now or I might not have a chance before the test. I waited a while longer before grabbing an chicken apple salad from the on campus eatery. The line was short. It didn't stay that way.
And then, about 2:45pm, I trekked across the campus with my salad and Starbucks brand iced-coffee (I needed all the help I could get) to the stage; my second home of late.
I said a few hellos, chatting with the Stage Manager in the house, we were preparing for a dress rehearsal. I met this rather cute girl, Emily. She had a nice smile and a pretty face. She didn't say too much, though, just perhaps a glance too long in my direction.
But it doesn't matter - any flirtation with the fanciful flight of fiction that I might make out with this girl or better (bed her?) was short-lived. I've had no success with the fairer sex lately and knew I wouldn't fare well with her either. I've cried defeat on that desire for the moment - accepting the poor substitute of imagination wish a dash of Internet meandering.
Nevertheless, the Stage Manager did boost the ego a bit proclaiming that I made all the young girls flustered. A lie, of course, but a flirtatious lie I still appreciated as I teased that my friend (standing nearby) was not at all flustered by me (she likes to tell me to shut up when I tease her).
I began my prep and then grabbed my math notebook, a pencil and my phone to light my paper as I continued it while watching my cast mates perform, taking a brief break from the imaginary i (that is not myself but rather the negative-square root -- though, in some ways I feel imaginary and clearly negative).
Soon we were warming up. My cast mates and the few from the Improv. Standing in a circle in our black box flinging "whoosh" at one another.
My performance went well, in contrast to the catastrophe of yesterday, but I was a touch tentative, still afraid to let go after having lost control of things.
I also let my frustration show when I came off stage at the end of our show (I'm on stage the entire time) and ran into a piece of stage equipment that was in the wings. It didn't need to be there and myself and my "wife" exited in a complete blackout, my vision already off because of the prescription glasses (not mine) I was wearing for the show.
I proclaimed to the air, not at anyone, that "this is the perfect fucking spot for the ghost light." Not realizing that somehow I had offended someone within earshot. We had to go take our bow, though, and it was dark so I didn't notice at the time.
In the dressing room I soon found the concerned face of an acquaintance and techie asking in the all-too-sweet voice of someone who is trying to imply you've screwed up, "Are you all right?" As if they already know the answer is, "No", and just want you to hurry up and confess the problem.
Given the stress of the day (I wasn't able to fix the website problem and the tech support lines were all busy, yes, the old fashioned busy signal kind of busy) I couldn't really argue otherwise but she pointed out that she didn't want people getting the wrong impression of me.
In hindsight, perhaps they got the exact right impression of me. No the damned ghost light shouldn't have been in a walkway obstructing a stage exit, it is a plain ol' safety issue. Yes, I was pissed that such a simple thing was overlooked.
I wasn't mad at anyone, I didn't blame anyone - rather I was pissed that no one cared enough to do it right. But clearly someone was upset and offended.
After a few notes and some cast bonding (we all agree that we hate to have our time wasted) I made my way Stage Right to make nice. Or at least try. Speaking to her -- well, she's not her, she's apparently going as he... alas, I wonder if he is aware that sensitivity is more of a female trait? -- whatever the case may be, and it really isn't my business beyond how if effects our group dynamics, I introduced myself and apologized.
To which she... he (I'm not trying to be flippant as I've known someone who completed the gender-assignment therapy in the opposite direction and it was undoubtedly a struggle but it's hard to argue with mother nature. I mean that literally, it's just hard). They responded that it was "very disrespectful" - I was actually surprised by this. I had already apologized and made it clear that I was just frustrated and wasn't speaking to anyone in particular. Still he wanted to make it an issue. I demurred, what do I care? I mean really, make nice -- forget about it.
I did wonder later in the day whether they were offended I had cussed, touched the equipment or just got angry. I do consider safety worth of anger but not everyone does, clearly.
I had an hour left to study, oh and fix the website. I looked up a different tech support line, dialed and sat on hold as I worked on math homework, struggling to ignore the awful hold music hammering away in my headphones.
I also sent an email request for help after I had been on hold for 15 minutes - still trying to pound into my brain the method by which I could divine a vertical asymptote. Like that line never to be crossed, the knowledge didn't quite penetrate my skull. It came close but didn't actually touch.
So that question was definitely wrong on the test.
Which is where I ended up next. After finally fixing most of the website problems around 6:30, I struggled to just review, review, review and.... then to the test.
I finished last, if you can really call it finishing. More like, I was the last to turn it in. I think there's a chance I did better than the F of my first test but not by much. A D grade is most likely, which is troublesome because it assures the highest grade possible in the class, for me, is only a B. B's sting GPAs, wounding them.
Leaving in defeat, I made my way to the unfortunate McDonalds, I needed change and food. A cheap, unfortunate, cheeseburger later I had change and an unhealthy feeling.
I had debated taking UberX home but after this morning I couldn't justify another $10 or so when the bus is a mere $1.75 (now that transfers are included)... though not by cash... which I didn't know till the bus driver told me. He offered me a $7 day pass -- which, of course, would have been near the cost of a much more comfortable and less time consuming ride.
Luckily he let me ride free, Metro still got their money at the station but I would have had to pay twice. I trekked to a nearby Starbucks as I waited for the next train, got into it with the shift supervisor over Starbucks refill policy - he assured me it had always been the case that you can only get a refill of coffee if you order coffee - this is, of course, wrong and after I told him I was looking up the policy on my phone he gave in, not because he believed I was right but because he wanted me to leave him alone.
All too often that seems to be the case - "it's not that you're right, I just don't want to take the energy to argue." So the next guy is still screwed but at least I got mine. Not the most hopeful way to move through life.
A bus ride later I was home, the adopted grandmother ready to complain about phantom drips from a leaky pipe and how the silverware drawer had been disorganized. The salad forks needed to be segregated from the other forks, they were all a jumble, mixed into together like ungodly heathens or something worse, no doubt.
I took it, I felt guilty that I couldn't help her all this week because I've been busy but I'm also frustrated - I would have arranged my schedule differently (maybe not auditioned) if she had told me she was coming home two months earlier than the she and the Doctor had said.
I try to be patient but it's frustrating. "Global warming isn't real, it's actually cooling," "The US Dollar is going to collapse any day and there will be total chaos," "The broom got wet and it's no longer straight, this is a major problem," "The kitchen dustpan is missing," "If I could go shopping, I could spend an hour looking for things but I would never dream of asking you to do that; oh you have time tomorrow? Maybe we can go shopping." (I, of course, have no problem taking her shopping but why not just say that's what you want?).
And I logged some of the time I spent working on my company work.
Overall, life is ... well. I'm here. There's not much else to say, I suppose. Except, I hope future me finds the hour and change I spent writing this worthwhile.
