picture me passed out on the grass by the parking lot

Wednesday was not a good day. I'm just lucky I have a fabulous boyfriend who makes me take naps and then does the cleaning himself.

As I wrote in my last post, I had my first shift of work on Tuesday night from 5-9. It went relatively well - I was somehow able to get 4 people to donate money giving me a grand total of $150 raised, and I only made about 20(!) clerical mistakes on my paperwork. Oh well... I'm just learning and they know that. Plus the clerical girl is really nice and hasn't killed me yet.

Anyway, I was completely burned out on Wednesday from work the night before, and had to get up at 9 to get to Japanese class after staying up until 1 trying to read an entire book of Freud (and understand at least 1/3 of it). Plus, after classes, I had to go to Student Health to get my birth control shot. So I'm exhausted, shot in the butt, and not looking forward to DA 5* from 7- 9 that night, nor any other night EVER. Basically I get home at around 4, all snappy and limpy, and stubbornly refuse to take a nap until Cj leads me upstairs and puts me in bed, at which point I'm out like a light for 2 hours. Waking up refreshed, I drop DA 5 in favor of a writing workshop and spend the rest of the night watching Comedy Central. Yay!

Thursday I only had one class, got to see KC and Justin as well as my ex-roommate Julia, ended up getting $300 in donations at work ($250 from my mom's dentist, who randomly ended up on my call list), and talked to a woman who named her daughter "Barbie" and who wants me to call back during my Saturday shift to talk about donating even more. I still didn't get very much sleep Thursday night, but I only have one class today (Friday) and a meeting for PCN (Pilipino Cultural Night). The only downside is that Cj's parents are coming to visit on Saturday, and the apartment looks like it got hit by Hurricane Isobel. And there's no way I can clean it up on Sat. morning because I have work.
HELLLLLLLLP!

*Side note about DA 5 - it represents every inane exercise, every touchy-feely getting to know you game, and every pretentious elevation of the "craft of acting" that has led me away from dramatic art in the first place. To me, acting should be an earthy, emotional, gut level reaction to a script, and every time somebody says that they're developing their "instrument" (i.e. body) it makes me want to SCREAM.