Heading home

Editor's Note: This was what I typed on Sat, Jan 26, in the early evening, at the New Orleans airport.

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I can't believe this week is at an end.

I've kept it together for most of the week - a mild breakdown here or there - but walking out of the hospital this afternoon just did me in.

Feeling like a hamster.

Spinning, spinning, spinning ... accomplishing ... what?

I know things ARE getting done, it's just sooooooooooo slow. Yet I'm running from place to place, going a million miles an hour ... at least it feels that way ...

I keep making lists, and I get things checked off that list, but then three more lists take its place ...

A week seemed like a long time, but I guess I knew in my gut it would barely be enough. I just keep hoping I don't forget anything.

And on a separate note - I leave you with another wonderful Michael quote:
"I've always said that visiting Frank* is like invading Iraq. My advice would be not to do it without a viable exit strategy."

* Name changed to protect the guilty.

I have no idea.

I just ... have no idea. I'll keep saying it. No idea. Nary a clue.

About what, you might ask?

Anything, I think.

I'm in New Orleans. That, of course, all by itself, raises a whole host of emotions. Especially as I find myself looking for places that don't exist.

Add to that why I'm here: my father, who just turned 83, has been in the hospital since just before the new year.

Add to that - since I wanted get as many business days in as possible, I'm here for six days, and it wasn't worth having Dick take off work and cancel a week of rehearsals on an already tight schedule ... so I'm here solo. Which sucks. As I sit here, in my dad's living room, seeing ... seeing things I don't want to see ... and I wish very much that he was here.

I've been to the hospital twice today. I don't like hospitals. I imagine no one does, really, but the smell of them ...

Sigh. I know that I was building up something horrible in my mind before coming down here, but upon my arrival I find that I at once overestimated and underestimated the severity of the situation. I know that sounds nonsensical. But less than 24 hours into this trip, I'm less worried about some things and more worried about others.

It all just makes my head spin. I'm sitting here, alternately blogging and playing solitaire. There's a slew of things I need to do - my dad gave me a nice to-do list! - but I just can't bring myself to start. Bleh.

All right, here it is.

http://www.studio360.org/episodes/2008/01/11

Probably way less exciting than what I built up. (You have to scroll down to the second segment, called "Hometown Pride".)

But honestly, the thing that scares the daylights out of me is public speaking. Acting, no problem. And even public speaking if someone else writes what I'm supposed to say. But to just speak in my words? As me? Hell no! I end up feeling like a complete and utter idiot.

I don't know that I ever actually AGREED to do this interview, either, which was one of the things that had me extra-stressed-out. I said I'd answer questions about New Orleans for the screener, but the next thing I knew, I was informed of what time Kurt would be calling, yadda yadda.

Seriously, guys, I am BAD at this. Once when doing an early-morning radio interview back in New Orleans (yes, a city where you could actually get press for your small theatre production on the radio and on the morning news!) I was with a few other people, and I said something that caused them both to dive and push me out of the way and say "don't say that!" To which I replied - and did I mention this was extraordinarily early on a Sunday morning? - "Hey, you put me in front of the mic, you get what you get."

When I arrived at a rehearsal later that day, one of my partners just laughed at me. "You get what you get?"

Kinda.

Anyway, happy listening.

Put on a happy face!

There is something incredibly surreal about being in the mindframe that I'm in and having to listen to PUT ON A HAPPY FACE for an hour. Over and over and over.

Thank you, Michael.

For the quote of the day.

"I'm not just going to pay some random Pakistani $500 because he asks for it!"

I always forget.

How freaking NICE people in New Orleans are.

I don't mean my friends. I mean the strangers. Sometimes, on a bad day, a well-placed "dawlin'" will go a long, long way.

Patience, people.

Thank you all for your interest. ;) I just still don't know if I'm telling yet. Soon, soon.