Distractions

"Live on the second floor now
They're trying to bust the door down
Soon I'll have a new address
So much for liberation
They'll have a celebration...
And as the clouds begin to rumble
So the juggler makes his fumble
And the sun upon my high wall is getting less."

-- Supertramp, "Just Another Nervous Wreck"

--

The unmistakable sounds of electric power drivers whizzing, spinning screws into drywall and wood, and halting with clatter from the torque, the squeak of the metal as it spirals into the tight grain of pine, the pock of wooden blocks on a concrete floor, the scratch of aluminum ladders dragged across a room, the murmur of men downstairs, hammers keeping time and losing it and regaining rhythm,--all of it makes the walls quiver, the floor tremble, the ceiling tiles shift; and my binder slides from its perch atop a printer, my stapler inches towards my laptop, and the pens and highlighters leaning in the cup rearrange themselves.

It's very distracting, and a little stressful.

With the new ArtReach tour starting tomorrow (they have an overnight after their last dress rehearsal), I feel anxious already. Is the van ready to go? Can we get the oil changed today? Got the tank filled this morning, but the actors need petty cash on the road; can we get that check? Call sheets are done, in the binder, but that (along with the van) needs to get to the rehearsal area so they can load it up; when are we going? Are they ready? Are there props that need touching up or replacing? Set pieces ready to go? Hotel reservations? Confirmation faxes? Copies made? Updated calendars printed? Insurance forms updated? Registration card updated? What about the rust on the side of the van that we said needed to be repaired last week?

Are we having that Monday meeting today? Isn't it a quarter after one already? Should I eat my lunch now? When will downstairs be finished?

--

As of last Friday, my workspace has moved once again. Still on the second floor, though--that basement still needs two weeks' worth of work. Now I share with Jay, who until I lugged in my crap had his own office, who has been gracious enough to concede half of his desk to me. With my printer against the wall, my file tray on boxes to my left, and some utensils to my right, I have a cramped but cozy zone, with just enough space for a coffee mug and my chair. Jay's a quiet, cool cat, so we can easily share a single space, but come on. Come on.

What happened to the old space, the conference room? Well, rumor has it that soon it'll be torn down, kaput. The sledgehammers make war on the walls tomorrow, I believe, and that's two doors down the hall. Good.

--

Luckily, with no rehearsal tonight, I am free come three o'clock. My friend Matt McM. is in town this week with his Disney tour, so as soon as I'm gone from here, I'll show him around the area. Kick back, throw back some beers this evening. Would walk Eden Park, but the outdoors are soaked from this weekend's storm, nature's saboteur. Maybe swing by the library, the nice one downtown.

--

Two weeks until the Covedale's after-school program starts up. Gotta plan for it.

Also: The manners workshop on Friday went incredibly well. Used the Beauty and the Beast idea, which worked amazingly despite that half of the kids hadn't seen either the show or movie.

At one point, I had a handful of kiddie thespians come up to enact various scenes from the playground, the dinner table, and the classroom. I had them first play out the scene with a bully using bad manners and the other reacting poorly, then switched their roles and had them play out the same scene. The second time, they had to reach some sort of compromise, with the victim using good manners to overcome the bully's lack of bad manners. Worked like a dream.

And on top of all of that, we talked about audience etiquette, which is perfect because they are taking several field trips to see three of our main stage shows this season.

Score, and score, and score.