Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

theatre

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I think that it’s funny that i can be just as shy as the next guy down the line when it comes to flirting with someone, despite my big fat gossiping mouth. Ironic, really. Here i was assuming that i’d win out in the end because of my witty banter, but ever since we started stage managing together i have less and less to say to her. It’s as if mustering up my energy to be organized and professional has totally eliminated my ability to flirt. I think she can tell, actually — we have tiny verbal run-ins that she just incredulously watches me crash and burn. We had one tonight about a fire extinguisher; it was sheer torture. She’s friendly, we went on a spectacularly fun date, … we’ve had conversations. They’ve happened. Long, witty, winding conversations. Yet, all i can manage to do backstage is catch her glance and raise my eyebrows. Every time it happens there’s this awkward moment of silence, and then she returns a quizzical look to which i reply: “I’m practicing my telepathy.”


“I didn’t get the signal,” has been her usual reply.


Well… yeah. Obviously.

But, really, does anyone go straight from telepathy to making out?


Didn’t think so.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/9155368/

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Speaking of which, try to follow this one:


At the start of Fall Semester i was in a student written/directed play. After our second performance, we had a reception, during which i was introduced to a pair of incredibly attractive roommates and a boy whose cuteness i considered a personal affront and challenge. I saw the three of them again at auditions for Lysistrata, where i pointed out the roommates to my own roomies, remarking upon which one i found especially distracting (despite their separate but equally stunning attractiveness). The other one of them was cast in the play, and shortly thereafter i was informed that she “wanted to marry me,” which struck me as strange since we hadn’t ever really spoken at length. I proceeded to make a sloppy drunken mess of hitting on her at a party, while i had the majority of my conversation with her uninterested roommate. A month later i asked said uninterested roommate out on a date based on her interest in paying attention to me upon further meetings. It was the perfect date, but did not seem to result in anything romantic, which i lamented at length. Lest i have the chance to put this crush behind me, she wound up being on the Stage Management staff with me for Formicans. Rest assured, it’s been all business. I was encouraged to ask her to our winter Ball, but balked, and when i finally got up the never i found out that she was attending with the cute freshmen guy (obviously my uncharacteristic distraction due to his cuteness was prophetic more than homosexual… who woulda thunk it?). I immediately swore off attending the Ball, only to have my mind changed by (drumroll, anyone?) her roommate, who asked me to go the next day.


So, i’m going to my winter formal with a girl who had a crush on me even though i sortof went on a date with her roommate and only didn’t ask said roommate to the formal because she was already planning to attend with the cute boy i met only seconds after meeting the both of them. Hors d’oeuvres at eight, dancing until one.

Drama served throughout.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/9029502/

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What, me sleep?


Today kicked my ass, which is pretty sobering because Monday is the day i don’t have any classes. Part of the problem seems to be that i am physically incapable of waking up earlier than 11AM, or 10:20 if i have class at eleven. Considering that i was waking up like clockwork at nine every day last semester, this is not any improvement in my quality of life. Of course, last semester i wasn’t spending three hours a night sitting behind a tile-topped desk staring blankly at rehearsal from behind the ‘Props and Lighting’ stage-book. All that sitting leaves me wound up with nothing to do when i get home, and so i wind up surfing the internet until i’m in arm’s reach of dawn before i finally relent and snuggle up tightly for bed.


Tonight would appear to be no different, despite the thorough whupping Monday dealt out to me. Tomorrow awaits to be lived, though, and between here and there i am sure there must be dreams.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8704451/

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The only good bit i can locate in all of that is that it looks as though my co-assistant-stage-manager is none other than…

Yes, that’s right, the girl from the date. Could life get any more like a WB drama?


By the way, if you want the previous four posts to make the proper amount of sense (or, at least the amount of sense i intended them to make, which may or may not add up to a proper amount of sense), read them bottom to top.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8396198/

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Blogging is not a daily column. I don’t even have to post everyday, as one of my readers just reminded me as i lamented my headache-induced writer’s block. I don’t have to post every day because i’m only posting for me… i’m putting up the effort, and the editing, and the $30 a month that keeps my website functional as my bank account gets inexorably smaller and smaller.

Are you starting to see where those other posts were headed? I am tired… tired of having to learn all of the foundations that lay beneath the successful artifice of art, and having to be responsible for them all on my own. I am tired of spending endless hours programming my site and weeks in the studio just for a paltry 100 copies of my demo and a thousand readers a week. I am tired just at the thought of having to create a new layout or having to mix down another demo. I don’t want to do it. I just want to play, and to write, and to have an amount of attention paid to me that has some relation to the effort that i put into my work and the quality that emerges. Even double the readers, or five times the listeners, probably wouldn’t be enough for me … because even after my in front of the scenes work is paid adequate attention i’m still stuck behind the scenes like the Wizard behind the damned curtain, sweating away as he produces such a spectacular show.


I don’t think this means anything… i’m obviously not quitting or going away. I’m just so tired… tired of having to spend a year on music courses so i could have a key to the studio that i hate, and tired of earning A’s in programming just so i can properly sort out the PHP i program the site with. Tired of having to beg to be a mere assistant stage manager when we all know i’d rather be in front of any curtain, anywhere. I just… i don’t know how i’m supposed to be heard at all, otherwise. Maybe you could call it paying my dues, or maybe it’s just my own particular burden (and not such a bad one, at that), but the charm is wearing off … what was once exciting is now my dread of quarter inch to eighth inch cable adapters, and my absolute dread of photoshop, and my remorse over spending half of my education learning how to make what i want to do work, instead of doing what i want to do.

Conclusion? Who knows… either one step closer to sending out demos, or one closer to subway busking. Two steps forward, two steps back, same old me.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8396050/