Counting Down to Anxiety

Hello, gentle readers. I'm sitting here on a mini-lunch break that I don't deserve, watching the message button on my work phone pulsate with fury that I haven't check my voicemail today. But then overall, I feel like crap today, so checking voicemail has slipped to the netherworld of my priorities.

Oh, and it's December and nothing horrible happened on November 30. Had a nice weekend actually and drama was kept to an absolute minimum. Hooray for that. But then I couldn't quite escape drama entirely and it snuck up on me this morning.

Woke up late. Felt sick. I am sick. Ah, welcome to cold and flu season. You know, if it weren't for the fact that coming up with a cure for the common cold would cost this ecomomy billions in pharmecutial sales, I bet it would have happened by now. I wonder if the Robitussin family actually has the cure and they just doll out those fancy colored placebos every season to make us feel better?

And so I rolled into work a little later than I should have (oops) because I didn't feel too spry this morning, and was even debating calling in --- but overall, that would have been futile. So here I am. Thought I had this huge meeting that I was going to miss. Ironically, it's a meeting about scheduling.

Yeah. A meeting to make schedules. Don't you love the real world. It's about as far removed from real as one can get.

But the meeting is tomorrow and I popped antacid for no good reason as I sped down the highway in traffic much lighter than I am accustomed to. Still feeling sick. Sniffly.

Blah.

So how about something much more exciting and interesting for a topic? Yes, yes, methinks we should speak of pleasantries this cold and dreary afternoon.

39 days. That's all. 39 rapidly passing days until I walk into Curtain Players and see my latest play, SEPARATION ANXIETY, on stage. FRAKIN' AMAZING! I'm sooo pumped about it that I elongated the word so. And I think I've literally jumped up and down with happiness about this. So yeah, you could say I'm excited about January 11.

Had a nice phone chat with my director last night and I think I should do that about once a week because holy mac n' cheese it gets the adrenaline going. We talked about characters and scenes and lines of dialogue and she's been so great with talking through some moments in the show to help realize them into better moments.

Listening to someone else's take on the show has been educational to say the least. And I envy my director in that she's getting to watch the actors develop their characters and create these people that I created first. As someone who has acted, I know what it's like to take a character and infuse him with a life and all the little quirks that makes us each human. So as I hear stories about the cast discovering their characters' idiosyncracies, I get a little jealous.

Workshopping is like a drug to me now. But then I was recently told by Keaton that I'm one of those collaborative types. I do well in that environment. And he's right. I love it. Working with other creative people. Getting outside eyes to see my work and then give feedback. I thrive on it. So that's why the Festival is like hitting the lottery. Two nights with a willingly-captive audience who are there to see my show and talk about it.

For those who do not know about the Festival, it's a three weekend event where new plays are staged, workshop style, and audiences offer feedback during a Q&A with the playwright, director, and cast. I plan to use this opportunity to examine the show's strengths and weaknesses as I work to get it in shape for a full premiere and/or production (my ultimate goal with the script).

Terrifically frightening and exhilarating all at the same time.

More to come about the show. Until then, here's a synopsis:

On a cold morning sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Quinn Murphy finds himself stranded in Denver, waiting for a flight to take him to the funeral of one of his best friends, Bailey Palmer. Quite content to stew in his grief, he is befriended by a woman named Lily Cameron whose brutal honesty brings out the truth about his friendship with Bai. Back home, his other best friend, Jess Duncan, searches for answers about her friend's mysterious death, finding only his father and more confusion. Interspersed with memories from the last days of Bailey Palmer, flashbacks reveal truths which Quinn and Jess aren't ready to face as the people who loved Bailey the most grapple with the possibility that the accident which killed him might have been something else, and show us that on some level, separation is a state of mind.