And we hit the one month mark before the opening of “The Tempest.” I have a hard deadline of being off-book by this Wednesday, and I’m getting scared. It’s not that I don’t have the general idea of what it is that I’m saying, or that I don’t know most of the words in the right order. But it’s Shakespeare. You need to be word perfect (as opposed to WordPerfect, which would make you an aging and obsolete, though superior, word processing suite). There’s a reason he put those words in that order. And with The Tempest, you see Shakespeare near the end of his career, writing in a more developed style and not sticking to the strict iambic pentameter of his earlier works. And I’ve been a cotton headed ninny muggins lately. and have not been able to concentrate. This tends to make it difficult with memorizing your lines and getting the whole thing to a point where you can really start to act.
The diet is a total bust right now. I’m not even trying. I’ve just been too stressed. And no, knowing that stressed spelled backwards is desserts does NOT help! It’s something that I just need to get my resolve back to tackle. I can feel it building, but it hasn’t burst forth yet. My gut has, but not my resolve. It’s summer and I should be excited to get outside, but I don’t have decent shoes or any exercise clothes. I have one pair of jeans that are about to fall apart on me. Clothes shopping sucks when you’re a fat pig. Pretty much everything sucks when you’re fat. I don’t understand these people that fight for “fat rights.” I mean I don’t think anyone should be mocked for any reason, but to say that being fat is like being black or gay is just plain stupid. I don’t need a law passed to feel better about myself. I need to put down the damn fork and get my ass off the sofa!
The biggest problem I have right now to really exercising is pride. Any time I start any kind of physical activity, I spout sweat like a rain bird! If I can do this in the privacy of my own home, it’s not such a big deal. Out on the streets, it’s more of a concern. In a rehearsal, it’s down-right tragic. I know I would be so much happier in so many way if I just kicked myself into gear and exercised. But I am a huge (no pun intended) creature of habit. And my habit has been to lounge around. Well, it’s got to stop. Or start, rather. Whichever it is, this tub o’ lard has got to get moving.
Quote of the day:
“I don't answer the phone. I get the feeling whenever I do that there will be someone on the other end. ~Fred Couples”
