THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
Maybe I can tell you about my weekend tomorrow.
I am too tired.
I am too angry at my stupid director for making this such a living hell. At myself for fucking up so bad like a thousand times today. At the schedule for making this such a shitty weekend.
But right now, I cannot walk because I had to wear high heeled shoes all today and all yesterday.
And a wig.
And stage makeup.
And multiple dresses.
And we (in the cast) try so fucking hard for hours upon hours, only to be told that we are pathetic and wortless and irresponsible and lazy.
Well here's a thought: most of the kids in this play are only twelve or thirteen years old and have never done real (if it can be called that) theatre before. We can't be treated like adults.
So fuck everyone (excluding our dance teaches, becasue they are always exceeding kind and complimentary even when we don't deserve it).
I could also talk about how Kristina and I got screamed at because the baseball players skipped a whole fucking scene, so OBVIOUSLY we could not make our entrances.
And I could botch about stupid grab-Jordan's-Ass Chloe pretended to be a ballet dancer and put on her pointe shoes just to impress us even though she hadn't worked with them in weeks.
And I could also talk about how confused I am about something regarding a conversation I had yesterday that is either entirely emotional or weirdly logical. But definietly not both.
But, you know what?
I'm not gonna.
Cause I'm exhausted and feel like I'm going to pass out because my cramps hurt so bad.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"There are things I'd like to say, but pride has got my tongue. So I'll take the easy way out- blame it on being young"
Tell me who said that and I'll give you a prize.
Well. Not really.