I don't have much new to say, but figured I might post an update since I haven't done so in a while.
I hate Motherfucking Courage And Her Sophomores. Everyone else is so FUCKING excited and chipper about it and I'm sick of pretending like I am, too. I hate this play and I hate this playwright and I hate working with this director and I hate what it means that I'm in this play. The only thing I don't hate is my character, which is good. And I hate that I complain all the time. I hate that I'm so negative, but at least I'm feeling something. Hate. Fury. Resentment.
It's about 4 hours of rehearsal every night at this stage. Which sucks not only for the reasons listed above, but also because my starved state only allows me a few "good" hours of peak functioning per day, and that window of time does not occur at night. You can pretty much guarantee that I'll be useless to humanity after 8PM. What little glucose I've provided my body that day has long since been depleted, the sputtering caffeine high completely fades, and after that I'm running on spite. So when you're working me from 6-10, prepare to be disappointed.
I usually get one nice energy spurt in the morning (probably because of being nurtured by sleep), which dies down not more than an hour after any greater-than-minimal expenditure of energy. I get another much briefer one some time in the afternoon, not after 5. By the way, I'm defining "energy spurt" as "window of time during which I feel capable of functioning like a normal person and not like I'm about to crash." Yes, at all other times, I feel like I'm about to crash. This is not an exaggeration.
Anyway... more bitterness. I have prohibited my parents from coming to see this dumb fucking play I hate. "I'm not proud of it, it isn't good from an objective standpoint, and I don't want you watching me do something that made me miserable," I said. It's just as well; they'll save money and I won't have to think of an excuse not to spend a meal with them while they're in town.
Honestly, this is the first time working on a show/film/set has ever been anything aside from fun or enjoyable. Seriously. Before, I even took pleasure in the most "annoying" or "banal" elements of my work -- waiting around on set for my cue; having to do multiple takes of the same two lines over and over and over, from this angle, and then from this angle; reshoots; technical difficulties; rushing at the last minute; idling in the green room reading a magazine while the newer actors, determined to prove their dedication to artistry, try to achieve a trance-like state in an attempt to "get into character." But now? It's torture. It's a chore, and I hate that something I typically love is now causing me so much pain. It feels unnatural and twisted. My passion has become adulterated.
And that, that feeling of something -- that once brought me so much joy in spite of everything else -- being bastardized and distorted... that's probably the most painful part of it all.
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