it's a magical world

I am unemployed. Yay!

Not really yay. Yay to be out of a job that was slowly sapping away my will to live, I guess? Except for the parts of it that weren't, because it was one of the best work environments I've ever had, even though I was pretty thoroughly disillusioned with the work itself.

I'd been there for more than two years, had a great rapport with my boss and coworkers, was given great performance reviews every year. And just before Christmas, my boss and I sat down for a "goals-setting" meeting, and since he has always presented himself as my mentor, I spoke honestly about how the US election made me reevaluate my priorities and I wanted to find a way to transition back into nonprofits or at least work that made me feel like I was making more of a tangible difference in the world, and that I wasn't leaving but I was looking, and would keep him fully apprised every step of the way because I trusted him and believed in him etc etc etc, and a week later he came back and told me that for the good of the company's bottom line, my last day would be March 10th (so that I could hire and train my successor).

So that happened. On the plus side, I now know for sure that this company's values DEFINITELY do not align with my own, and I'm glad to be rid of them. The month I spent training my replacement (who, for the record, is a straight boy right out of college with no experience, which makes me feel super shitty about my life for the past two years if I was that easily replaceable by an infant male) was just...not good. So being out of there is definitely a net plus for my mental health.

Unemployment, obviously, less so. I'm too experienced at this point for admin assistant-level positions, but I haven't seen much to apply for at my actual level. I've been on hold for a job I REALLY want for over a month now -- made it through interviews etc, she even contacted my references and passed my application on to the CEO, and now I'm in a holding pattern of nothingness because they're "undergoing some restructuring" and I just saw the same job posted earlier this week with a slightly different title attached to it, so...yeah. And I've been applying for anything reasonable I can find, but it's a lot fewer and further between than I'd like. At the same time, having just left employment that left me feeling utterly drained and unhappy, I'm not exactly willing to jump at a job that looks even worse.

Look, you've all been there (or are currently there too), I don't need to belabor the point. It just sucks. I've spent my first week of joblessness mostly playing Civ to avoid the real world. I will probably continue to do that for a bit. It's also the first real vacation I've had in years, so, trying to focus on the positive here. I've finally caught up on my sleep. That's nice.

But hey, if anyone in NYC could use a kickass ex-stage manager who wants to do arts/education/nonprofit programs administration, by all means shoot me a link.

So...haven't been posting much RL stuff lately. Or at all. ( work stuff, or, unemployment, yay! )

In the interest of staying positive, though, I put together a Kaylee (from Firefly) costume for Halloween, which I was quite pleased with! ( Shiny, cap'n! )

Minor trigger warning: failing at life, and also bleeding a lot.

Yesterday I bought a new pair of jeans to replace my ripped-and-dying ones, and while my pants size has not changed, the process made me feel flabby. Okay, thought I. I shall resume running in the mornings. My job allows me to sleep reasonably late on weekdays, I can woman up and set my alarm half an hour earlier and go for a damn run.

It's not like I'm totally out of shape. I got back into running at the end of the summer and made it a regular habit during that one tragic month of unemployment in September, and I've gone running a few times since moving into my new place. Enough that I have a running route and know how long it takes me and have a whole routine built around it, and stuff. It's just that when it finally got cold around the holidays, I kinda stopped. But today was practically balmy, for winter-in-NYC standards, and though I was not happy to be awake, I put on my shorts and sweatshirt and was off. And it was good! I will never be able to say I ENJOY running, exactly, but there is a certain amount of satisfaction it brings me, plus the endorphins are pretty rad. I ran for about a mile and a half in one direction, then went up a block and turned around to head for home.

I'm assuming it had something to do with still feeling more than half-asleep, but man, I hit an unexpected uneven patch of sidewalk and WIPED THE FUCK OUT. I have never done that before in my life! Okay, lie, I have totally wiped out like that on rollerblades before, and I am quite talented at tripping over things or falling down stairs (shut up, it happens), but I always just kind of bounce right back up again, because when you grow up klutzy you basically have to either master the art of the pratfall or die very young. So I bounced back up and kept going? Except then I realized that I'd kinda whacked my fucking FACE on the pavement when I fell, and something under my lip was kinda dripping blood? And all of the skin on my knee was kinda not there and likewise dripping blood? Also my hands and knuckles were kinda fucked up? And I was still more than a mile out from home and obviously had no cash or anything on me because I'd only planned on running?

So my brain mostly just latched onto the thought that I'd only allotted so much time for running before I had to shower and dress and eat breakfast and go to work, and somehow, I could not handle the prospect of being late for work. So I...started running again. BECAUSE THAT IS LOGICAL. I mean, I knew I couldn't clean myself up until I got home, so the faster I got home, the faster I could STOP BLEEDING. Obviously. So now I'm back at a steady jog, except I'm using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to staunch the somewhat worrying cut under my lip while my hands and knee just kind of drip freely. Amazingly, not a single person I passed on the street even looked at me funny. That's New York for you, I guess. I did stop in a deli at one point and asked for a wad of napkins. That dude DID look at me funny, and he didn't offer to help or anything, but he did give me the napkins, so that helped a bit with the biohazard that was my knee at that point, and also spared my sweatshirt further indignities. And then I just started running again, and kept going until I got home. And fortunately my landlord was loading stuff into his car, so I begged a tube of Neosporin off him (I have band-aids, but no antibiotic stuff). And then I cleaned up and that's pretty much the point at which the adrenaline wore off any EVERYTHING STARTED TO HURT. And also I started getting concerned that the cut under my lip might need stitches? I think it's fine, it finally stopped bleeding a while later, it's not a big cut but it's pretty deep.

I made it to work almost on time! Though I did have to skip breakfast. Which, given the blood loss, not necessarily my smartest move, but a few hours later I snuck out to grab a sandwich, so whatever.

So now I have a big bandage over my bruised and slightly swollen knee, and walking is...interesting, plus two band-aids over my knuckles and one on my palm, assorted less bloody abrasions, and an ugly cut under my lip. And tomorrow morning I have to do one of the Bible readings at my grandmother's memorial service. FUN TIMES.

Moral of this story: exercise is evil, and clearly I should've just slept in.

Reread Hunger Games Monday night and Catching Fire last night, trying to hold off on giving Mockingjay another go immediately because there are totally other things I'd like to be doing with my limited and quickly-disappearing free time but seriously, who do I think I'm kidding. And now vid bunnies are biting for the first time in months, which is a pity, because there is no Hunger Games source yet and the ideas I have really need to wait for the rest of the movies to be made anyway. But theoretically, somewhere in the future, it's entirely possible I will do another Vienna Teng vid series for Hunger Games, because her songs, they are speaking to my fandom brain again. "Hope On Fire", definitely -- lyrics far too eerily appropriate, ugh, my heart. (Gotta leave, gotta bleed / You've gotta stop lying still / 'cause this is no kind of life. CHRIST.) I want some Catching Fire footage for that one, though, for obvious reasons. And I'll have to wait through all of Mockingjay for "Gravity", which very much wants to be an endgame Katniss/Peeta vid (So don't turn away now / I am turning in revolution / These are the scars that silence carved on me). But, y'know. That. HELP ME I AM HAVING FEELINGS, CANNOT COPE.

Zero fic drive for this fandom, though. I might trawl AO3 for any decent Katniss/Peeta fics, but I don't have high hopes, and I have no interest in writing anything except possibly that X-Men fusion bunny where District 13 is run by Charles Xavier, who's been keeping it hidden from the Capitol for years and years and yeah, no way do I have any intention of writing this, I have a whole 'nother fusion 'verse to finish.

Anyway. Went home early from work today because I felt like shit -- I've been sick for about a week now, and it's starting to really piss me off. Not seriously ill, just a bad cold or minor flu or whatever, but it's lingering on way longer than it has any right to, probably because I haven't had a single day off to actually rest (and won't get one until the last weekend of April). I'm just exhausted. But there's nothing I can do about that. Next show loads in Friday.

Okay, going to try to keep writing X-Men fic now. (I have managed to write a complete scene today. This is...not really progress.)

I'm very thankful that my physiology has never been wired for panic attacks, because I'm operating on stratospheric levels of stress this week. I have never felt so unprepared for a show to open. Part of this is my own problem, because this show is much larger and more complex than any I've previously worked on, but it's also massively disorganized on both the production management and directorial ends, which leaves me running around trying to clean up everyone else's messes with no time left over to deal with my own fucking job. For example, it's impossible for me to spend the hour I'd given myself to set up backstage space for props when I come in to find the entire theater covered in sawdust from scenic work, and have to spend the next ninety minutes frantically cleaning up the space before actors arrive. Whining about how that really isn't my job accomplishes nothing; it needs to get done, and if I'm the only one there, then I'm the one who's doing it. This is just one small example of the many over the past week. Or, hell, over the entirety of this fucking rehearsal process. And let me tell you, there are few things worse for a production than a director who is incapable of time management. We've been rehearsing for two months from first rehearsal to opening night. That's quite a long time by most production standards. It's completely fucking unacceptable how slow and indecisive this director has been about every last moment and detail; he's incapable of giving a single note or direction without spending at least five minutes talking about it, which is creative death for actors and a gross waste of time. (There are times for long discussions in rehearsal. It's called tablework. NOT WHEN YOU'RE BLOCKING THE SHOW.)

Tonight is final dress. I have never run a single sound cue. The booth is a floor up from the theater and can only be accessed by a slow-moving elevator, and there is no God Mic for me to address the cast/house or any real way for the cast to communicate with me once the show starts. We have many complex projection cues that have been placed and rehearsed, but never with the dowser (which is being installed today, maybe?) or with the actual fucking program that we're supposed to be running them out of. The director yanked my ASM to use as projections op from the day he joined rehearsals, which means I've been doing 75% of his job in addition to my own because, again, if I don't do it, it won't get done. The production manager is incompetent (as previously mentioned) and now that she's actually around, likes to ask me lots of questions about minutiae that I do not have the fucking time to deal with and she should have the fucking initiative to deal with on her own. And I'm not even going to start addressing any of the issues I have had with some of the actors.

And, yes, I'm well aware that like 90% of my stress is a direct result of my having to do several other people's jobs in addition to my own, and that I should delegate responsibility. But since delegating just results in the work not getting done, I'm kind of at a loss for options right now.

And my day job has not exactly been a walk in the park lately either, mostly because my boss is a good person but a terrible manager, and the rest of our team is on the verge of open revolt. But that's another story entirely.

To end on a different note, two things that are keeping me from running into traffic today: James McAvoy's face and Joss Whedon's secret adaptation of my favorite Shakespeare play with a ridiculously awesome Whedonverse cast. (I have ALL THE FEELINGS about Much Ado About Nothing. ALL THE FEELINGS. ♥)

I quit caffeine about four and a half months ago. This has largely been a good decision, I think. I feel more alert, I'm sleeping better, I'm even slowly losing weight. But man, this is one of those weeks when I DEEPLY regret it. My show of great awesomeness finally closed Sunday, and yesterday afternoon I went into tech for a show I'm light designing. It's a small community theater, way less stressful than the large professional theater I usually work for; and I'm just lights, not stage management, so again with the lower stress. But I'm still running frantically up and down ladders every afternoon and then teching at night, and between this and my day job, I leave my apartment at 7:30am every morning and don't get home until close to 11pm at night. So not very stressed, but TIRED. And uncaffeinated. The only thing that's keeping me from cheating is the vivid memory of two straight weeks of withdrawal headaches when I originally quit. (I am not exaggerating. If I'd ever doubted that caffeine was a legitimate drug, that disabused me of the notion right quick.)

But man, I would like a Coke Zero right now.

Also, the XMFC/Inception fusion has passed 45k words. WHAT THE HELL. It's now officially the second-longest fic I've ever written. It needs another good 20k to slide into first place (currently held by my last TARDIS Big Bang), and I don't think it'll get there, but I have been completely unable to guesstimate this fucker so far and really, all bets are off. I know how much more plot is left, but word count, pfft, no clue. I'm mostly just boggling that I've written 45k words in a month, because seriously, what. And at some point I will actually get to the end and realize that now I have to find a beta and actually revise this thing, which, oh god.

I'm in a weird blank mood today. I just want to turn off and not interact with anyone. Of course, I have work all morning and rehearsal all afternoon and I'm supposed to go out with some friends tonight. The friends I can cancel on, though I'll feel bad about it because my fucked up theater-centric schedule means I never see them.

DC Pride is this weekend, and I'm worried I'm going to have to pull out of plans to go to the parade and events and things because I need to have the complete Big Bang draft sent out Sunday. I am really not feeling the fannish love right now. Using my free time for fic is one thing -- I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't love it! But having to cancel doing stuff I was really looking forward to, that's not so much fun. That starts feeling a lot like work. I know it's my own fault for not budgeting my time better earlier on, but there we have it. Ugh. I'd already been stalling and sticking on this fic for months before I decided to Big Bang it out -- it's just not coming smoothly at all, and that's intensely frustrating. I'm worried that I'll wind up with this huge 50k-word monstrosity that just isn't any good. Blah.

Again, weird mood. Nothing has gone wrong today, but nothing feels right.

Here, have a TV meme.


Day 06 - Favorite episode of your favorite TV show

Sticking with X-Files as the favorite show, this is easy. "Pusher". Oh, man. That was one of the episodes I had on tape, back in the day, and I rewatched it more times than I can count. The MSR UST is through the roof and the villain is genuinely chilling. Oh, Robert Patrick Modell, you creepy sadistic fuck. Cerulean blue is like a gentle breeze. Plus, timid little Holly kicking twelve kinds of shit out of Skinner is kind of hilarious. And it holds up well even now -- it's more psychological thriller with a sci-fi twist than monster-of-the-week. The stand-off at the end with Modell and Scully basically competing for control of Mulder is just damn good television. And Scully saves the day! Good times. I still love that one.

I slept really poorly last night for no apparent reason, and as a result have been tired and grumpy all day. It's 7pm and I'm crashing here, all I want is to collapse into bed and sleep for twelve hours straight.

But it's final dress of my plays tonight, so I have to go sit through two hours of theater I've already seen several times through already.

Ugh. I mean, woot, my plays. But my plays are only, y'know, twenty minutes out of these two hours, and I'm so tired I want to cry.

Once again, it's FUCKING cold out, and will be in the single digits (Fahrenheit) tomorrow. Of course, I have to go out and house manage tomorrow, which involves shoving several heavy, large, and awkward parking signs a couple of blocks across the snow/ice, followed by a directors' meeting for the festival I'm working on in the spring, which is at a different theater well across town with no easy public transit connecting the two. Joy. At least tonight I can hibernate instead of going grocery shopping or to the bank or to my friend's show or any of the other things I thought I might accomplish. Oh, well.

Current weather in Chicago: 4F with wind chill of -14F.

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD IT'S COLD.

Also, today woke up with sore throat + neck pain. Bad sign. On the not-strep side of the argument, I pretty definitely have a cold on top of that, and the sore throat part seems to be responding to DayQuil, which strep most definitely does not. And the glands in my neck aren't swollen, as far as I can tell. So while I'm even more nervous now, this still falls more in the cold/flu range than strep throat again. I tried calling my health insurance provider just to give myself a safety net if I do need to see a doctor again, but apparently I can't reach a real live person on the weekend, so either way, I'm stuck waiting until Monday now. Fortunately, Monday is MLK day, so I have off from work already if I do need to argue with Aetna and then head back over to the ER. I never thought I'd be praying that I have the flu, but there you go.

Sorry about all the boring health blather. We'll return you to your regularly scheduled fandomness after these messages from our sponsors.