Time Traveller

(This entry was from Monday. The day did eventually get better. Sort of.)

What a crappy morning. Which is a shame because the weekend (save for having to work six hours at the law firm on Sunday) was quite well spent. Fruitful, and even some flickers of fun.

But man, mondays, man.

I have one more week of teaching acting at a day camp in Silver Spring. It's a fine program, really, the kids are good, my highschool age T.A. is bright and so helpful, all-in-all much more painless than I expected. It's located a ways down Colesville (really only about 8 minutes by car but definitely not walk-able) past the weird Toll House Restaurant? Anyone ever been there?

Anyhow, I've had a lovely person-who-drives willing to get me there by 9am most of last week, which was amazing since the bus that goes there only comes every thirty minutes (why is that?) But this morning we hit traffic early on. I realize I don't have my ipod. He realizes he's left his phone back at the apartment. I look at the time and have to accept that we won't be able to stop for coffee. I start hyperventilating because the idea of going through three classes of 8-14 year-olds without caffeine in my system terrifies me. I've also left my suglasses at home. As well as the stacks of contentless scenes that we were going to start this week and continue to work on through the rest of the session--home, on my bedroom floor.

I now have no lesson plans, no caffeine, no sun protection, and no music to get me through the rest of my day. Plus my fabulous T.A. is gone this morning. I am suddenly and violently angry at myself for being forgetful, for stalling in getting up, for being addicted to caffeine, for being late all the time, for not getting it right. Life. Not quite getting life right. Other people do. What's my problem?

But I have people. I have great people in my life.

An energy drink and power bar are special-delivered to my second period class. The little ones are listless but by the second and third group I manage to make headway, teach something, maybe. At lunch a ten-year-old tells me that "acting class" is her favorite morning session. My T.A. is back and wants to know about everything she missed. On my way back to Silver Spring proper I talk on the phone with the writer of the play I am directing a reading of during the second half of Fringe (did I mention that?) He is excited and immensely passionate about this work. He thinks a play can change the world or at least how people think. When I hear him speak about it I start to believe it is true.

So, we are going to hope that the morning was just the morning. That the first 90 minutes of the day won't set the tone for the rest of it--including and expecially not for tech tonight.

Soon, more to catch up on. About shows seen and the work on my other Fringe projects and expecially about the CAT THAT NOW LIVES IN MY HOUSE!

Yes, a cat. Cute. Very cute.