We Might As Well Be Strangers

I feel kind of dorky for being home on a Friday night. However, I think it's for the best. I've had kind of a shitty day and shouldn't inflict my bad mood on anyone else. It started when, this morning, I was running late (my fault entirely) and went to open one of my (approximately 5) umbrellas in a hurry on the way out the door, and the umbrella part just snapped right off the handle. So, cursing, I ran back upstairs and got one of the others. As a result of being a hint too late (about two minutes), I didn't get to see my subway crush. Which isn't really a problem, just mildly disappointing. I have to time it just right and be in the correct car in order to see him, and today it just didn't work out. (Mind you, I don't even have to go out of my way. We ride the train at the same time every morning when I'm not late, and the car I choose is the one that lets me off closest to the escalator to the downtown 6. So there.) Oh, subway guy. Our day will come, if we just wait a while. (Or if I grow a pair and actually say something to you one day, instead of just making eye contact and then looking away as if it didn't happen.) I cannot help but wonder if he wonders about me, too. Not deeply so, just like, "I see that weird girl almost every day." It's probably something along those lines. But in this city, it's perfectly acceptable not to introduce yourself to someone you see more times a week than you see your own roommate. (Which in my case is true.) I find that very odd, and I vow to one day say something clever to this guy. I mean, it's natural to be friendly to people you see constantly, right? I'll let you know if and when I talk to him. No, WHEN. It needs to happen.

So then I got to work and the very first order I took over the phone (I was working takeout today) ended up irritating me so badly I had to go into the bathroom and slam the stall door a few times to get over it. I don't even really want to get into the whole story right now, but it involved an extremely rude and frustrated guy who was getting screamed at by his boss in the background to "fucking hurry up", followed by the boss himself getting on the phone and yelling at ME. For no reason. He was the kind of guy who just steamrolls over everything you say, even if you're not arguing with him. At no point did I say we couldn't do what he was requesting ($300 worth of ribs--which equals about twelve full racks--boxed separately, delivered to Wall Street within the hour; a bit of a tall order, but we did it). But he just HAD to yell at someone, and after his subordinate, I was the easiest target. His excuse for this unspeakable rudeness was that he was getting on a plane at 1 PM and he wanted to eat before he left. I don't think I've ever been so angry with a guest. I am, as my coworker Jericka said, "blessed with patience." And you know what? Our delivery guy was back at the RESTAURANT within the hour, which means that the douchebag definitely got his order with plenty of spare time to eat and make his precious flight. The only reason I didn't cuss back at him is because I like paying my bills and eating, and in an economy like this I can't be out job-hunting. I also don't have time or energy for that. Who does, really? There are so many other useful things I could be doing.

Like rehearsing, right? My saving grace. I've been unpredictably moody over the past...oh...eleven days (if you're thinking that sounds strangely specific, you're absolutely right). I'll get back to this in a minute, but thank God I've got "Ragtime" to distract me. If I didn't, I'd be even worse--I honestly don't know what I'd have done by now. So I adore going to rehearsal, even if it is all the way in Jersey. The fact that I get to be Sarah is the most important thing in my life right now. And it makes me happier than anything else does. So after work today I made the trek out to Jersey, even though I had a sneaking suspicion that I wouldn't actually be used much tonight. I mean, the entire ensemble was called, and we usually are, but sometimes I have solo lines to sing and what have you. I thought about asking beforehand, just to make sure, but I didn't want to be presumptuous and snotty and assume that meant "everyone but Vanessa." Well, guess what? After eating dinner on the bus on the way over (discreetly, since that's technically not allowed on DeCamp buses) and lugging my heavy bag and umbrella to the studio, I sat there for an hour, only to be told (very apologetically) that I wasn't actually needed at all. No one really realized it until I was already there. So I went all the way back home. And it took approximately two hours to get here. And to top it all off, it was definitely raining. It has been, on and off, all day. Now, the people I'm working with in the show are really, really nice and they didn't mean for this to happen, AT ALL. It's just that we're a huge cast and sometimes these things get lost in the shuffle. It's understandable, but it still sucks. Especially when, quite frankly, I know my music like the back of my hand. I mean, I've been studying this role since 1998. I could do it in my sleep. And since I was just in "Ragtime" this past winter already, I know the ensemble stuff too. Judy (our musical director) told me she owes me a freebie. I'm inclined to agree.

Also, quickly--my roommate, who just moved in at the beginning of June and led me to believe he was going to stick around, is moving out. Already. At the end of September. And he told me via email. (Classy.) You can imagine how much I love having to go through the entire "new roommate" process again--especially after the fiasco with the closeted-tranny-alcoholic-fucking-freakshow that was my last roommate. Who still, by the way, owes me $100 and a "Sweeney Todd" DVD. The only thing I can hope for is that the third time's the charm on this one, and that maybe a girl will want to live with me instead. I'm having trouble trusting people right now, for this and other reasons.

I'm getting a little sleepy as a result of going to bed at about 11 PM last night (SO weird, but I was really tired and couldn't think of a good enough reason to stay up). I know I said I'd get back to the "being moody" thing, but I'm too tired to get into it now. Besides, this is probably not the most appropriate venue to vent all of my true sentiments about why I've been so moody. Even I know that there's a limit to how much secretive personal business you should blurt out via internet, just to get a reaction. To me, that's passive-agressive, immature, and just plain wrong--it's something teenagers, douchebags and psychos do. (And before you say, "Wait, didn't you just talk shit about your roommates in the last paragraph?": none of that is a secret. I'm happy to tell anyone who wants to know about any detail of either of those situations, in person or otherwise. And I'm happy to talk about it with either of them, too, if they'd like. So just hush.) Just know, though, if you're around me or if you talk to me on a regular basis, that I'm going through a rough time right now, emotionally, and I don't know when or if I'll get over it. I'm aware of how hopelessly melodramatic and girlish that sounds, but it affected me more than I wanted it to. Believe me, I've wished fervently, several times, that I could stop thinking about it. So anyway, if I snap at you or suddenly look like I might cry for seemingly no reason (only to appear fine ten minutes later), it most likely has nothing to do with you. I certainly don't hate anyone (except maybe those two guys I talked to on the phone today at work); I'm hoping that I just need more time and that these feelings will eventually become less raw. This too shall pass, as they say.

In the meantime...
Happy birthday, Michael. You are, and always have been, beloved and otherwordly.


xoxo