Thursday, September 16, 2004
Humid and cloudy
The printer seems much more complicated to set up than it should be – come on, now, people, if you’re going to charge me lots of money AND make it hard, send a technician along with the box. Preferably a cute one.
Anyway, I sent a panicked e-mail to Canon, and they responded within an hour (hey, a company that actually has customer service – now there is something new and different), and I think, tomorrow, I’ll be able to do it.
Angel Hunt did not go well yesterday and I didn’t get anything done on Cutthroat Charlotte. So I’m behind again. Somehow, it will all come together. I’m not quite sure how yet, but it will.
I’m paying a steep price for not doing enough writing while I was on the show fulltime during the summer, in a very slim bank balance and many bills looming. I have to remember that no matter how many theatre hours I work, I also have to be able to have X amount of billable writing hours so that when the theatre work wanes, I have writing money coming in, since there’s the lag time between the actual writing and the money coming in. So I’m tired. Too damn bad for me. It’s part of the transition.
And, as I’ve been for the past few years around September 11, I’m enraged by the event itself and the aftermath and the politicizing of the event – I hate it when people make money off of other people’s pain. That’s why I hate reality TV so much. Every little stupid thing makes me fly off the handle. The Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome not only kicks in this time every year – and all the extra cops with automatic weapons don’t help – but it’s getting worse. So I’ll have to take steps to lessen it/heal it/work with it.
It was good to go to the theatre and be around people, in spite of the fact that the State Troopers are still riding the trains and everyone’s yapping on the street that there will be another major attack in New York in or around Election Day.
Day work was fine. We caught up. A schedule is being set to send people to sit with the colleague who lost her baby, since she can’t be left alone during this time. It seems to be all we can do – just be there. She’s not taking calls, so I’ll send a card instead.
Four of us went to dinner at a Thai restaurant between day work and the show, which was fun. Lots of catch up and plan for future projects. Fall always spurs one on to get busy again.
Got home later than I would have liked. I’m tired of the newspapers. A headline stating, “Mommy’s Gone” showing three crying toddlers (about a murder on Long Island) is, again, people making money of someone else’s pain, and it’s wrong.
The lack of journalistic integrity in this area is truly appalling. It’s New York. You’d think we’d get SOME decent journalism. Who do we trust? The Post? It’s only good to line a catbox. The News? With a headline like the above? The Times? The paper that hired Jayson Blair? Newsday has the best writing, but they’ve got some sort of circulation scandal going on. It’s pathetic.
I remember (get out the rocking chairs, people) the days where, in a news story, BOTH points of view were explored and enough facts were given for both sides so that the reader could make an informed decision.
It’s been years since I read an article like that.
Early to bed so that I can have a productive writing – and printing, if the printer actually works – tomorrow.