Postcard From a State of Relative Relaxation...

Everyone now... take a deep breath....

Aaaaand... let it out.

Ahhhhhh....

Phew.

Well, I survived the weekend. I felt like ass for most of it, which didn't help, and my plan to spend an evening with Slater watching DVDs of "Coupling" and drinking tequila had to be forfeited for the sake of my health, but still. I made it.

The dinosaur bones came out great. I wish I'd taken a photo of them, but I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off and afterwards I donated them to the school's prop closet because I'd be damned if I was lugging them back to Brooklyn on the subway. Getting them into the city during rush hour was bad enough.

For those who were wondering, they were a set piece for a scene presentation in class. The play called for a partially assembled T-Rex skeleton to be present on stage, and so I did my best to bring that to fruition.

Overall the presentation went well, and the only foul-ups were entirely out of my hands so really, I can't complain.

The end of the semester is rushing towards me like a freight train, but for today I took it easy. I promised my body that if it got me through the weekend intact I would spend today being lazy, and so I did.

I slept late. I watched a movie recommended by the director of my short film project and I have now decided that he is not allowed to give me any further film recommendations. Cinematically, it was lovely. But the characters just made me angry and I really, really just did NOT like the protagonist. At all. And it's hard for me to enjoy a film when I really just don't like anybody on the screen.

It was a French film called "La Haine" (Hate). Basically the main characters were all French hoodlums who live by that apparently male code of solve-everything-by-getting-angry-and-violent. Behavior like that just irritates me. Oh, the girl doesn't immediately want to fuck you as soon as she lays eyes on you? Let's get mad and break things, because really, that's the logical way to react.

No thanks.

So to get myself back to a happy place I decided to delve further into the Netflix pile and watch "Newsies," because I'd never seen it before.

I'll give you all a moment to gasp and grumble in indignation (I'm looking at you DS).

...there. All done?

So aside from the fact that it was so very very Disney it kinda made my teeth hurt, I loved it. The choreography alone makes it worth watching--I really do love all male dance numbers. Any of you Newsie-files out there know if Christian Bale was actually doing his own dancing? If so, he has now climbed another few rungs on the ladder of hotness, because I loves me some men who can dance.

And the uber-cheesy "New York" accents? Priceless.

In other news, I've got myself a bit of a crush, and I'm seeking advice. For one of the scenes in our scene presentation, the director (a girl in my class) brought in several of her friends to be the other actors, and one of them most definitely caught my eye... and what minor flirtation I allowed myself did not appear to be entirely unreciprocated. I didn't want to flat out hit on him and risk making the working environment uncomfortable but the presentation is over now, so my question is... is it kosher to shoot him a "hey, want to grab a drink sometime?" email without saying anything to the girl in my class? I feel like it might be a bit awkward if I were to suddenly hit on her friend... but it would be equally awkward to be like "Hey L, your friend is kinda hot... mind if I ask him out?"

Slater says just go for it. What do you think?

And finally, I am relieved to announce that Super Roach has not shown his face--or any other part of his nuclear-holocaust-withstanding body--since last Thursday; and while my eyes do immediately migrate to the spot in which he made his debut whenever I enter the kitchen, I no longer live in abject fear of discovering him vacationing in my bag of chocolate covered pretzels.

Because really? I fucking HATE roaches. Mice, I can handle. They're cute and furry and so long as they stay out of my food, I really don't mind if they occasionally want to make a shortcut through my apartment en route to wherever they may be headed. If they get too cheeky, my cat will teach them a lesson. But roaches? Roaches do not seem to interest her... and this particular roach? He looked like all he needed to do was learn English and he could take over the fucking world.

Fine with me, so long as he stays out of my fucking apartment.

And that, my friends, is the current state of affairs. I'm sure I'll manage to work myself back into a manic mess about something before the week is out, but for today? Today I am walking on the sunny side of the street.

And I must say... it's rather nice.