What a joy to be here On this wonderful occasion So unique So delightful It's the party of the yeeeear... ...I've got that opera music running through my head still. We did a full dress rehursel last night. I still dislike my costume, but hey. It's not about to be changed now. Justine, the dear, tried to find a corset for me to wear underneath my costume (call me crazy, but I like wearing 'em) but her mother had taken it to Vancouver with her...or something. Anyway, I'll try and find one in the costume department at the theatre... Speaking of the theatre, it's going broke. It's terrible! I don't want the Capital Theatre to shut down! It's a piece of history, and it's a beautiful place. It's one of the most practical theatres I've ever seen (though the one in Cranbrook was nice, it was confusing and *huge* and there were four halls and two staircases between the dressing rooms and backstage)...And if you look on the wall near the exit under the stage, and if you have light that's bright enough, you can see initials and names and dates of plays and people that have performed in the Capital. Some of the dates date back to the thirties and forties... Anyway, enough on that topic...though I'm still tempted to write a letter to some bit political head and beg for money for the theatre so it doesn't close down...(They can't heat the theatre anymore because they don't have enough money to). So we perform tomorrow night. Tomorrow! And a few of the main characters are still iffy about their lines. Tsktsk. Grown adults, not being able to memorize their lines. Of course, some of them are getting kind of old...Still! They should at least memorize their parts... I'm tired, I am. Got home at eleven-thirty last night. Alright, that's a lie, I got home at eleven, but didn't make it to bed until eleven-thirtie. Damn chronic nose-bleeds. I've been bleeding a lot lately. It may sound kind of geeky, but it's a pain in the ass to have...oh...seventeen nosebleeds in one day. I should get it fixed, I suppose, but I'm scared to. I've been told it hurts like a b*tch and doesn't always work. (Melissa had her nose cauderized seven times and it still hasn't fixed her nosebleeds). And I didn't have time to get my stage make-up on, and if you've ever done theatre, you'd understand what a horror it is to get up in the morning and look at yourself in the mirror when you've fallen asleep on your make-up. Speaking of make-up, remind me to bring some eyeshadow tomorrow night. All they've got there is a few shades of brown and a yellow. Bright yellow. Had to use the yellow last night. Justine said I looked like a parrot had exploded on my face. Then she asked where the parrot was. Well, it *did* just -explode- on my /face/, right?...Heehee. I've got such /nice/ friends. While on the topic of getting stuff ready for tomorrow night, I've got to remember to shave. Legs, arms...well...maybe not arms. But my legs need a stiff blade put to them. I havn't shaved them in a while because I frankly havn't had the time. Plus, there's no law out there that says I have to, rather I do because I like to or I feel like it. Sometimes I wonder why women live longer than men...Then I realize a few things. Women were made to bear children. Their bodies are made slightly stronger, organ wise and endurance wise (though not in actual muscle), than men are. Some people say women also express their feelings better than men. I suppose that's true in a way, because most women are not afraid to cry in each other's arms when their boyfriends dump them or they go to see a sad movie, but I know some men who express themselves quite vividly. I don't suppose your general average men will phone up his friend in the middle of the night in tears, tell them that Sally just left them, and proceed to go over to the friend's place, cry for a while, then sleep in the same bed instead of going home...Of course, I *could* be wrong. But, well, I've been rambling enough here. I'm tired, and I've got to go to class. Am researching the Russian civil war of 1917. Interesting, but there's not much to know about it. So I'm off. Really. Adieu, mes amies. Rosie.
Before&After
|