dramaturgy: ([DW/T] Rory counting the Silence.)
Today is Commencement. I suppose this is where my roommates have been all day because I think they are graduating. I don't know, I don't really care.

I was going to have a great thinky thoughts post here about how I graduate next year (with any luck), but then I got an e-mail from the lady at Jujamcyn and "there isn't a position available for [me]" which, you know, sucks because I really wanted to do it. Only in theatre is knowing a little bit about everything and knowing how to do a lot and willing to do literally ANYTHING a bad thing. I'll keep looking for things to do that will occupy my time and maybe put a little money in my pocket, but right now I just want to sit here and Think About What I've Done by thinking everything could go my way for once.

There's one part of my brain that says, "Remember how you said you were never going to get into grad school and you did? And remember how you didn't think you could manage having your own car and you did? And remember how you didn't think you could etc and you did?" But the other part of my brain says to fuck off.

I'm moving tomorrow. I guess the best I can do is look for something else to fill my time, especially if Old Navy plans to stick with scheduling me one day a week. 'Cause I'm sorry, that ain't gonna pay for shit.

My dad said he and my mom would help as long as it wasn't much, but I'm twenty-five. I should be able to pay my own rent and things. Not to mention I don't know how much my parents had to sink into getting my grandmother into a nursing home (which she is in. I haven't spoken to her. This is going to sound stupid but I hope she gets internet there, because the people she knows from there are her friends like you all are mine). I'd like to go home to visit but I'm afraid to now.

I love being here in New York. If I couldn't stay out here and work I don't know what I would do.

brb looking for that window God's supposed to open when he shuts a door on me.
dramaturgy: ([HP] Slytherin - SPRINKLES!)
I would like to officially retire the "joke" "if you rape a prostitute is it called rape? or shoplifting?"

It's not funny, it's demeaning, and perhaps most egregiously from a pure comedy stand point, it's OLD. We all have heard it before and it's NOT GETTING FUNNIER WITH TIME. Stop it.
dramaturgy: ([Misc] Hyperbole and a Half.)
In conclusion, fuck you life.

Today is my day off, so if I have errands to do I generally do them on a Friday. Thumbs up, right? Well recently I've switched car insurances because the guys at my old company were a bunch of douchebags and tres expensive, so I went with Progressive. Now, I have to have a vehicle inspection before a certain date so they can make sure everything is kosher. Awesome, I can do this. Progressive gives me a company and an address so I think everything will be fine.

Except it isn't.

I get up and get out today to go to Main Street Mobil at 58 North Country Road in Setauket, follow the directions I got from Mapquest, and -- surprise -- there is no 58. There's a 56, and a 60, but 58 seems to elude me completely. There's no signs on the road saying "Main St. Mobil up this drive" etc. So, fine. I drive by a few times, look on the opposite side of the street, take a nearby side street. Literally every conceivable option I explore. So now that I'm annoyed and thinking, "Gee it would be nice to have a smartphone right now so that I could avoid going all the way back to the school and looking it up again on my home computer." (It's actually very close to the school, but Stony Brook is set up in a really stupid manner so getting back to my parking lot is really an exercise in patience, especially in the middle of the day where students will just cross the road willy nilly without looking.)

So I come back into my room, try to look up another location on Progressive, except the page where you can do that seems to disappear once they have your money. I put the address in to Google, and see that Mapquest was giving me wrong directions. So with a renewed sense of hope, I drive by hoping to see that address and -- nope. Nothing. Zero. NA. DA. It's either really well hidden (which I think is stupid but Long Island does this a lot -- there is no conceivable pattern to the streets at all and a lot of things are hidden back from the road) or I am just blind. So I came back here, giving up for the day.

And yeah. Now I'm pissed, because what should have been a quick little jaunt and took maybe half an hour or less wasted two hours of my time. I give up, universe. You win.
dramaturgy: ([SPN] Drank a liquor store.)
There is nothing quite so unhappy as feeling superfluous and unheeded. This started last night when I got a reply to an e-mail I sent Steve on Thursday night -- or maybe Friday. Anyway, to set the stage, our New Play Development Workshop class is holding a ten minute play contest since apparently that seemed like a good idea. Well we're down to like the last ten or so plays we want to consider and so we want to bring in actors to do a cold reading, just so we can hear how it sounds. So this is the e-mail I sent him:

I have an actor for class! His name is Nicholas T******, he's in Joe Jeffrey's Theatre in New York class with Jackie and me. His e-mail is nicksemail@ic.sunysb.edu if you need/want to give him more info -- I told him Monday 12-3 but I'm not sure if you have any further instructions or not.

Have a good weekend,
Liz


And this is the reply I got last night:

Liz,

Thanks. If you have Nicholas T******'s contact info, and he interested, ask him to come to class on Monday.
I hope we get a few more.


WHAT. I just. When you get a response like that, you feel like you make as well be dancing around naked, beating a teakettle with a wooden spoon.
dramaturgy: ([SPN] Gabriel.)
I am watching some episodes of Hoarders on the internet. And now all I want to do is scrub the apartment from ceiling to floor.

And now the part that is just blah. )

In other news, I have been daydreaming about working in a theatre somewhere near home that is not Chicago. Because Chitown makes me want to cry.

And I have a deficit in TA hours that I have absolutely no hope of making up by the end of the semester, so I am probably going to be in trouble with the department. I hate my life.
dramaturgy: ([Heroes] Sandra + Mr Muggles.)
NO.

NO. NO. NO.

ON THE SYLLABUS IT SAYS RESEARCH PAPER. NOWHERE ON THERE DOES IT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT PRESENTATIONS. IT SAYS A THREE TO FIVE PAGE RESEARCH PAPER. FIVE PAGES IS WHAT I HAVE. IF YOU WANTED A PRESENTATION YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME MORE THAN 36 HOURS BEFORE THE CLASS AND 60 HOURS BEFORE I HAVE ANOTHER PRESENTATION DUE.

THIS. THIS IS BULLSHIT.

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