Because I Haven't Yet Explained Just How Extreme A Loser I Used To Be

So we've been hovering in the North Carolina area this past week and it looks like next week will be much of the same. I'm not sure why I chose the verb "hovering". How totally inappropriate. Musical theatre people do not hover. They smack each other and/or grope each other. They do not stop singing showtunes, ever. They rarely lower their voices or stop to think about people outside their general vicinity. In short, we are not so much hovering in North Carolina as we are INVADING and CORRUPTING it.

I shouldn't label our entire cast "musical theatre people". Hell, if you called me a musical theatre person to my face, I would cut you with a boxcutter. And I'm sure that sounds as if I'm not proud of my career path or that I don't take myself seriously. But you know what I'm talking about, right? The simple truth is that there are people who happen to do musical theatre and then there are Musical Theatre People. The latter group? I try to avoid.

And yes, they are everywhere: taking their bras off in front of me at auditions, screaming with delight when they see a familiar person, doing West Side Story combinations down 34th Street. Yes, these are my people. Do I consider myself one of them? Not anymore. But I USED to be. GOD, I used to be. Let's talk about that.

You have to understand that when I discovered the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the tender age of 10, I started singing and I never stopped. I spent junior high and high school singing for HOURS. I'm talking, HOURS. To the point where this one time? My sister told me if I didn't shut up she would RIP OUT MY VOCAL CHORDS. My sister. And even though I cried at the time because I was super into my feelings, the girl definitely had a point.

I would lock myself up in my room and play showtune CD's over and over and over again, singing all my favorite parts and often making up choreography. Christine Daae was my first ingenue role, performed with great zest and energy and nearly ALL her high notes. My cousin Tom often joined me, alternately playing Phantom, Raoul and the great diva Carlotta. But mostly, I was on my own.

I eventually branched out and moved on, performing snippets from all my favorite musicals. "Rent" was a favorite that lasted well over a year, a phenomenon that disturbs me even to this day. It's hard for me to see how a musical about the AIDS epidemic related to me as a 15 year-old growing up in white suburbia. Maybe I just liked the "badass" quality to it--the drag queens, the curse words, the excessive sexuality. After all, the risque revival of "Cabaret" produced a similar effect.

I found most musicals by browsing the Borders music section. I discovered "Ragtime" this way, long before it came to Broadway. Tom and I listened to the first track of the concept album through huge Borders headphones. It was an instant purchase and I played it every day for an entire summer, the melodies drifting out my window and onto the cul-de-sac below. A year or so ago, my old high school performed "Ragtime" and when I heard the opening piano melody, I cried.

Other musicals were found by cutting out the advertisements in the New York Times. My father would save me the Arts & Leisure section and I would go through it very slowly, carefully snipping out the musicals that looked interesting and taping the ads to my closet doors. Some of them are still hanging up there in my old room.

I was also fascinated by every musical that was performed at the regional theater by my house. When they put up Damn Yankees, the disc lived in my CD player for months. This baffles me because I can hardly stand to hear it now. Or rather, I can't stand the image of me that it conjures: A gangly 12 year-old belting out "Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets". So wrong, isn't it? So very...Nabokov.

The nice thing about this very awkward and embarrassing stage in my life (which I'm documenting for the general public here! Hi! Welcome to DorkTown! JAZZHANDS!) is that it's over. Sad, isn't it? Knowing that I no longer spend time in my bedroom playing Fantine AND Eponine AND Gavroche from Les Misérables? (Trust me, it was genius.) But however absurd an outlet it was for me, however graceless a hobby, it meant a lot to me at the time. It allowed me escape and release and imagination and all that. Also, it was dumb.

And I feel like I've come so far! Yes, I do enjoy sitting down to the piano at my parents' house and singing a few songs. And sometimes, when the right song is on my ipod and I'm walking down the street in the city, I start to imagine just what pose I'm going to hit on what beat and WHAM! I'm a ROCKSTAR in my own head! But I like to believe I've left most of the past behind and whatever remains is just unfortunate residue that will someday, hopefully, wash off.

And what does this all have to do with anything? Eh. I'm not sure. It's just that a huge part of tour life involves interacting with individuals. The same six people. Every minute of every day. I'm learning such important communication skills--how to confront someone, how to speak evenly, how to control my temper, when to shut my mouth. But really, what amazes me, is the realization that some people are the embodiment of my 13 year-old self.

And what do I do with that?! I mean, I understand where they're coming from because yeah, that was me 10 YEARS AGO but at the same time I don't because I sort of did this weird thing one time where I...oh..how do you say it? I don't know....GREW UP?

It's not just the showtunes, it's mannerisms, attitude, tone of voice. I haven't dealt with it since junior high. In all honesty, I want to treat people the way I would like to be treated. I want to understand them and come from a place that is non-judgmental and non-threatening. I want to be compassionate, sympathetic, assertive and mature. I want to let them know that I'm here to help and not to point out their mistakes. Plus also? Sometimes? I want to smack them in the face.

But this is all part of this experience. It's unrealistic to think we'd all get through this tour without any disagreements or tension. I'd say 87% of the time, I'm having a blast, laughing really hard and taking funny pictures and trying not to suck. But the past two weeks have gotten a little rough and a lot of it, thankfully, has nothing to do with me and for that I'm grateful.

I just need to remember that I'm an adult and act accordingly. I'd like to try to be someone who does musical theatre rather than a Musical Theatre Person. And it isn't because the Sing-Out-Louise Showtune People are bad people. It's because I often find them overwhelming and a tad bit grating. Granted, the same people who make me cringe often make me laugh so how can I really point fingers one way or the other?

I think I'm slowly evolving into someone that I'm proud to be, someone who accepts the dork within yet prays nightly that it goes away. I'm happier when I'm not fighting to be the center of attention, happier when I don't have to compete to be funny, happier when I don't have to discuss who got what role in what show. It exhausts me. And I'm downright ecstatic when we drive up to our hotel and I can put my luggage down and go for a jog.

I'm just trying to figure out what makes me happy, what works for me. Running works for me. Going to bed early works for me. Eating soup? That's good too. Mostly, I just like performing theatre every day. No matter how silly the show is, no matter how grueling traveling can be, I find the joy.

So, I'm here in North Carolina, doing musical theatre. And in my bedroom on Long Island, thousands of miles away, advertisements for the musicals of 1997 are hanging on my closet doors, yellowed and peeling, tiny pieces of who I used to be.

Georgia, A Song Of You

Hey all! I'm between shows in Hickory, North Carolina and for some reason, Jon gets internet in the dressing rooms. (He is reading this over my shoulder! Hi Jon! Kisses!) The dressing rooms which, I might add, are -40 degrees. We have definitely hit the mystery known as AUTUMN. Last Friday, I walked the boardwalk in Myrtle Beach, sweating in the 87 degree heat and running in the evening along the ocean. Today, I am wearing five layers attempting to stay warm because for some reason, no one at this venue got the memo that the weather changed.

The Mac. Oh. My Mac. My $800 repair. I'd like you to know that I'm trying to be mature about the situation. This means that I'm officially back from my trip to Bitterville, Population 1, Me. It is what it is and I'm trying to remember what they did in the old days before computers and internet. SO, now I watch TV.

So The Mac. I sent it away and I thought I'd have to wait until I got back to New York before I could claim it HOWEVER! We have a sit down in Cleveland for a whole week so I'm thinking mom and dad could overnight it to the hotel if they get it in time. YES? YES!!! Will keep you posted. For now, I'm freeeeeeeeeezing! Before the first show, we jogged in place and did a slew of jumping jacks, trying to warm up. Didn't help. I don't think it's a good thing when you can see your breath backstage right before you perform. I AM AN ARTIST! THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR!

Juuuuuuuuuuust kidding! I'm going onstage now! With mittens! Still hate the Apple Store! HATE.

The End.

Every Day A Little Death

Something happened and I'm standing in a mall finding it very hard to breathe. I might even hit someone. HARD.

Wait. Let's back up.

As they would say down here in the South, my laptop up went and broke.

Why? I do not know.

We've had some wireless internet issues with it for awhile and by "we", I mean me and the Lord God Jesus Christ.

But last night, I opened it up and there was no screen. Well. There was a screen. 1/4 of my computer contained the regular screen, the rest was white with squiggly ink stains and smushed writing.

I have just been informed by the "genius" at the supposed "Genius Bar" here in Buckhead, Atlanta in the stupid Lenox Square Everyone Drives A Bentley Mall, that it will cost $800 to fix.

It will take 7-10 days.

They will have to mail it back home to NY.

But what about my Applecare? I say.

What about the fact that I JUST BOUGHT IT AT THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER? I scream.

What about the fact that I'm in freaking GEORGIA and y'all are not GENIUSES because a GENIUS would not charge me $800 to fix my BRAND NEW COMPUTER.

The "genius" helper with black thick-rimmed geek glasses informs me that Applecare does not cover accidental damage and that is what happened. My LCD is broken and I have to pay to fix it. Because it was accidental.

And so I'm standing in the Apple Store, waiting for Margot to come back from the pharmacy.

I just spent the afternoon with her at an Urgent Care facility where she was diagnosed with bronchial pneumonia.

This has not been the greatest day, you could say.

I'm waiting for her to come back so that I can stop crying. I wish I could tell you that I could keep my shit together in front of the geniuses at the Apple Store but I can't. I keep thinking about the money, God the money, and my beautiful little computer and the pictures that I took and how that man at the Genius Bar with the beard told me there was a SLIGHT POSSIBILITY that when they fix it, they could erase the hard drive WOOPS! and I think about the HOURS, no, DAYS that I spent before leaving for tour filling my beautiful Macbook up with such beautiful files--pictures and music and programs. And I can't breathe.

But Margot will get here soon and she can tell me that it's fine, it's okay, as I blubber on about JUST getting my credit card balance down to $400 and that if my calculations are correct, the new balance will be over $1200.

And oh WAIT, let me tell you that that's what I PAID FOR THE DAMN MACBOOK IN THE FIRST PLACE. (A MONTH AGO!!! JUST A MONTH AGO!!!)

SO, ESSENTIALLY, Mac People, when I buy a Mac, you are charging me $800 for the damn DISPLAY and $400 for the rest of the crap that's inside it.

And guys?

I thought we were good together.

I love my ipod and my iTunes and the swanky setup of your stores. I love your commercials and the ubercool geeks that work for you.

But though I love you, dear Apple Product People, I do not have to LIKE YOU RIGHT NOW. In fact, I hate you.

I hate you because this has been a very bad week of tour life. A week where people pull me aside at 7 am in the morning, before I've had breakfast, to talk about the fact that I did not validate their feelings. A week where people were bickering and getting on each other's nerves. A week where my checking account went down to $150. A week where my thumb was slammed in between the van and a huge set piece made of wood.

A week where I was beginning to pay off my debt and up the amount of money in my savings account. Hell, I was beginning to think what a breeeeeeze Christmas shopping was going to be because HELLO! I'M ALMOST RICH!

Until now.

I do not know when I will get my computer again. If my parents are able to come visit me on tour, I'm sure they will bring it. Otherwise, it will stay in New York until I return on December 10th. E-mail will be checked when I can borrow others' computers and check it. I do not know when flickr will be updated again with pictures. I do not know when I will be able to update this either.

I'm so sorry to get all bitter here but what else can I be? And it's a damn shame too 'cuz I had some damn funny stories for you.

Like, for instance, how my father teaches 8th grade math in a ghetto school district on Long Island.

And like how yesterday, according to MySpace, it was "Kick A Boy In The Balls" Day.

And how he broke up six fights because his kids totally put that day into action, right there in Robert Moses Middle School.

Pretty remarkable, huh? I want to think no one has it as bad as I do right now but upon further reflection, I bet the victims of that MySpace holiday are in a lot more pain.

PHYSICAL pain, anyway.

Not Mac pain. Apple Agony, if you will.

I love you guys and miss you guys and if I saw a familiar face right now, I would squeeze the life out of you and wet your t-shirt with my tears.

And then ask you to pay off my credit card.

Because you love me that much, right?

Walking With My Feet Ten Feet Off Of Beale - Week #2

So we’re heading into our third week of tour and I think we’re doing alright. I don’t always have internet access at the hotels. (GRRRR HOTELS GRRRR.) And sometimes, even when they do have wireless, the network is incapable of connecting to my Mac so I’d like to give a special WHAT THE HECK?! shout out to the Apple Store. I’ve taken to writing out my blog posts in Word and then publishing them whenever I finally have access to the web. So, there is a definite delay between when I write it and when you read it. What I’m saying is, DEAL WITH IT.

We’re currently driving through the state of Tennessee and let me tell you people, it be a LONG state. We saw Memphis on Monday evening and aside from the cockroaches running rampant on the street (Ah NYC! A little slice of home!), I thought it was a pretty hip town. And by pretty hip, I mean kind of dirty. But it was also real bluesy and jazzy and I had the chance to annoy Margot by belting out “Walking in Memphis” every five minutes. I think she was REALLY into it.

Since we go to a new place every day, if we really want to spend time looking around a city, we can do it for a few hours on the night we arrive or for a little while after the shows the next afternoon. I had had my heart set on seeing the city of Nashville since the day I was hired for this tour. This is because my bestest friend Alayna is from Nashville and I wanted to see how she learned to hold her liquor. Also, it’s because I am a dork who LOVES country music. (SHUT UP.)

Well, we arrived in Nashville yesterday and everyone was pretty tired from seeing Memphis the night before and traffic was bad so NOBODY WANTED TO GO DOWNTOWN. Horrors! I decided that was alright because Rance’s cousin sings in a country duo and she brought her guitarist to the hotel and played a few songs for us and it was SO GREAT! (SO GREAT apparently that I’m going to keep typing run-on sentences!) The music was incredible and it was nice to see some authentic Nashville singer/songwriters in their natural habitat.

Lucky for me, our car broke down again today and we “had” to kill time by walking around downtown Nashville this afternoon while it was being fixed. I went into Tootsie’s, a huge purple bar where there was a pretty decent crowd and live music playing, even in the middle of the afternoon. Apparently, Willie Nelson once got really drunk at Tootsie’s and proceeded to walk outside and lay down in traffic, attempting suicide. Ah! Those country people!

Of course, walking around downtown Nashville was just a small bonus on top of the biggest honor of the day and probably the entire tour: playing two shows at the Grand Ole Opry. According to the ushers, this is the sixth incarnation of the Opry. The original was located on the fifth floor of an insurance building in 1925.

The current Grand Ole Opry was built in 1974 and has since been home to an insurmountable number of country stars. There is a small circle of wood on the stage that was cut out of the original Grand Ole Opry and inserted into the floor of the new one. Within the first five minutes of the show, we gather downstage center in a huddle as we sing. This morning, we were all standing on the circle, the original floor of the Grand Ole Opry and some chills ran through me and I almost started to cry. But then, I saw a blinding light and Elvis appeared and I got kind of distracted.

I loved the pictures throughout the backstage of the Opry, snapshots of all the singers that had graced the stage. I also loved thinking about who had used my dressing room and if anyone else had popped strawberry Starbursts before their show like I had. Dolly Parton perhaps? I also loved the fact that the lights in the dressing rooms detected motion and would snap to life as soon as I crossed the doorway. I amused myself for a good fifteen minutes with this, just by popping in and out of the dressing room, trying to take the lights by surprise. Those lights, they sure are smart.

At one point during a sound check, Rance, Demond and I were standing on the stage looking around.

Rance: You know, I never noticed just how grand this place was until I stepped on stage and looked out and thought, “Wow. This is just…grand.”

Demond: I know what you mean. I never realized how Opry this place is until I stepped on stage and I thought, “Wow. This…is sooooo Opry.”

This made me laugh for a good ten minutes because I am easily amused. ANYWAY, we had a great time playing there and I will probably never do that again. The show itself was full of minor glitches and mistakes but nothing major. We definitely have a rhythm down and I think we all feel a lot steadier than we did at the beginning.

My favorite mishap occurred in the very first week of our tour. Since we are a small cast, we each play a variety of characters, utilizing extremely fast costume changes. Rance plays an array of male roles--the father, the bus driver, the teacher and also, Gladys, the lunch lady. This last role requires an extensive change into drag, complete with huge sparkly pearl earrings and glittery lunch apron. During our very first show, Rance performed his regular costume change out of Gladys’ attire and entered on stage for his scene as the schoolteacher.

Wouldn’t you know, he forgot to change one minor costume piece and he stood proudly on stage, delivering his lines as the masculine schoolteacher with bright white pearl earrings on his ears. It was a sight to behold let me tell you what. In fact, I think the word “unparalleled” is applicable here.

So we’re in our third week, finishing up in Tennessee tomorrow in Knoxville and spending all of next week in the Carolinas, which I am very excited about. Our day off this week falls in Raleigh and I’ve heard that our hotel is across from a Gold’s Gym, which we get free passes to, and a Target. TARGET Y’ALL!!!! The magical place where I can buy a ton of stuff that I didn’t even know I needed! Woo! You can find new pics on flickr! With cowboy hats for all! Peace!

Midnight Train To Georgia

Just so you know, I am going to continue to shamelessly use song titles and lyrics for the titles of my blog posts. If you can think of any good ones that contain the name of the state that I’m currently in, you win a prize. But first, you’d have to know the state. And by state, I’m talking geography, not mentally. Though those would be good song lyrics, too.

It’s been a long several days in the Alabama/Georgia region. Our passenger van has been acting a little off since we started our trip. And by “a little off”, I mean crazed blinking of the coolant light and violent jerking when accelerating over 40 mph. And though I am no car connoisseur and often ask if the gas pedal is indeed on the right (just to be sure! Ha! I’m kidding! Not really!), I sensed something was wrong as the van swayed and bucked its way over some parts of the expressway. And by “some parts”, I mean every single road we’ve driven on since we left Harlem.

The van was dropped off yesterday and Rance, Melissa and I killed a good two hours in Cracker Barrel (Do you know they serve breakfast all day?! SERIOUSLY!?) as our poor stage manager Margot dozed off on the couch in the mechanic’s waiting room. The verdict? The van needed to be left overnight, leaving us to travel to Greenville, South Carolina in a rental soccer mom minivan.

It turns out that some genius filled the passenger van with the “wrong kind of coolant”. And by “wrong kind of coolant”, I mean windshield wiper fluid. I could totally see how that could happen seeing as how coolant regulates the temperature of the car and windshield wiper fluid does something quite similar which involves keeping the windows clean. It’s also an easy mix-up when you think about the fact that both are clearly labeled and both come in liquid form. I can’t tell you how often I confuse coolant for a glass of orange juice! It’s happened to all of us at one point, I’m sure.

Either way, the “wrong kind of coolant” has wreaked havoc on our thermostat and by “wreaked havoc” I mean screwed it up in a huge way. I was pretty surprised we didn’t overheat and break down on the middle of the interstate somewhere. It would’ve happened eventually that day if we hadn’t taken it in to the shop, considering it was 90 degrees in Augusta and we had two and a half hours of driving to do to get to Greenville. Then again, even if we HAD broken down on the highway in the middle of Georgia, I would’ve felt safe and happy knowing that even though the windshield wiper fluid wasn’t keeping the car temperature regulated, at least it was keeping the coolant tank clean.

So, instead of driving from Greenville to Norcross, Georgia for the evening, we had to swing back to Augusta to return the rental and pick up our fixed passenger van and then travel onto Norcross. I am currently laying across the backseat of our passenger van, typing this entry and am pleased to report that the car no longer acts possessed and that also, I am able to type on my computer in a moving vehicle without feeling nauseous.

The two shows we had this morning didn’t go very well, at least not for me. We did have a great crew helping to load in and out and by “great crew”, I mean a young man with tattoos all over his arms who bought me a bottle of water because I couldn’t find the water fountain. TATTOOED BOY! Let’s get married!! The detailed pictures of skulls and music notes that were inked on your arm TOTALLY SPOKE TO ME!

Other than that, ick. The sound was awful and throughout the show, we couldn’t hear the music or each other or ourselves. Awesome! I was also tired and woke up with a bit of a sore throat, so I’m sure that had a lot to do with it.

So, our van is fixed and I’m currently on vocal rest. The show itself doesn’t really tire me out but the constant talking does. I talk all.the.time. It’s hard not to when communicating with six other people all day long--putting together the set, voting on where to eat lunch, keeping someone awake when driving, answering the cell phone when it rings, etc. The vocal chords, they are tired. And since I’m paranoid about vocal damage, I am shutting the hell up until Sunday, our day off. We’ll see if the tiredness improves. For now, RESPECT ME. I AM AN ARTIST AND I AM PROTECTING MY INSTRUMENT.

Tomorrow is a travel day, a loooooong day of riding in the car on the way to Mobile, Alabama where we have a day off on Sunday. A DAY OFF. No driving, no shows, no nothing! It will be our first day off, which means we have been going steady for eleven straight days. I’m not sure what I can expect from a day off in Mobile but you can bet it’s going to be something CRAZY. And by “crazy” I mean maybe going to the movies or sleeping in past 6:00 am.

Yeah. That’s it. I’ll wake up around 9 or 10, go for a run, take a shower and pour myself a steaming mug of coolant.

Ah. Perfection.

Week #1 Recap

We've officially been on the road for one week. I thought I'd do a summary, for you and for me, since locations and theatres and car trips are already starting to blend into each other.

We left Harlem bright and early Tuesday morning and drove to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania where we had the pleasure of staying with one of our cast member's parents. Candy's family graciously cooked us dinner and put all seven of us up for the night, saving us the cost of the hotel and food. I had a slight fever this entire day but the sick feelings were put on hold because I was so excited about finally being out on the road.

We drove down to Ashland, Kentucky from Pittsburgh and we opened our show there at the Paramount Arts Center on Thursday morning. The opening show was a bit shaky (and at 9:30 am to boot!) and I think it jolted us awake as we realized, "Oh, wait. There's an AUDIENCE out there. UM." Doing the show for kids is quite different from adults--they laughed at things I didn't expect and were extremely vocal. When kids actually yell back responses to your lines...well, let's just say it requires a lot of flexbility, composure and energy.

By the time our shows were done, my fever was raging and a headache compounded on top of that. It was our first time loading the set in and out of a theater and it took a really long time. We have gotten a lot better since then and when theaters have their own crews on hand to help out, it moves a lot quicker. I tried to fix my illness with various medications, thinking that I had allergies or something but HEY I've never had allergies and the Claritin I bought didn't work so it was probably a mild flu. Awesome. I ended up curing myself with multivitamins and copious amounts of cornbread.

We spent the next three days in various parts of West Virginia. Oh. West Virginia. So mountainous and beautiful and winding and welcoming and lovely. My favorite show so far occurred in the Smoot Theatre in Parkersburg, WV, which is an 83 year-old theater. We were able to do a meet and greet with the kids after the show and it was just adorable. Most of the kids we've performed for so far have never seen live theatre, ever. The expressions on their faces are priceless.

Since this musical is based on a very popular children's series, we were warned from the get-go that the kids were going to go crazy as their favorite books were brought to life on stage. Well. That was an understatement. We are like freaking ROCKSTARS, people!!! The kids scream and yell and cheer and recognize and point out all their favorite characters. Though my character, May, is written in the books as fairly mean and bossy, my director stressed over and over that they didn't want to portray a negative stereotype and so he guided me in different directions. Instead of outright mean, it was decided that May is just self-conscious and suffers from a minor bout of OCD. Knowing this, her "mean" comments should come from a place of insecurity and a longing to fit in with the others in her class.

Story of my life, right? Anyway. It sounds silly and actory again but ugh, it was hard. May's lines are easily interpreted as mean, bossy and totally irritating. I was told by a former cast member that the actresses who play May always have a hard time with the interpretation. Awesome. My director was relentless about not making her mean and I was given a note every other day that at least a scene or two was coming across a little too harsh. But I got better with each show this week and figured I'd mastered the art of making her lovably bossy. Or so I thought.

Sure enough, at the meet and greet on Saturday, I asked one little boy what his favorite part of the show was. He answered without missing a beat, beaming up at me, "YOU!! WHEN YOU WERE MEAN TO EVERYBODY!"

I cringed. And somewhere, in New York City, my director died a little bit inside.

I suppose kids will see what they see but OH MY GOD I'M GIVING YOU LITTLE CHILDREN AN EMOTIONALLY COMPLEX PERFORMANCE. IT IS LAYERED WITH RAW FEELINGS OF INSECURITY, HESITATION AND REALISM. Whyyyyyy!? Whyyyy won't you give me some credit?!??!!? PLEASE? Before my director comes down here and fires me? THANKS!

Sunday was a travel day and we spent it driving from 50-degree mountain weather to 87 degree Huntsville, Alabama where we performed two shows this morning. Life was going swimmingly until I attempted to take a few pictures and noticed an odd smudge on all of them. I cleaned the lense and cleaned it again, to no avail. I took it to Walmart and had the camera specialist (HA) look at my precious new camera. And then it was confirmed. Something (a bug? some dust? a leaf? what?) has worked its way into my camera and will ruin every picture ever taken from now on. The only thing to be done is to send it back and get a new one.

UM. IT IS BRAND NEW.

PS. I AM IN LOVE WITH IT.

PPS. I LOVE TO TAKE PICTURES.

And of course, tonight, in Chattanooga, Tennessee (which I LOVE! I love Chattanooga! I am moving here! For life! Because, seriously? Chattanooga Choo Choo WOOO!!) everyone decided it was picture night and we ran around town taking tons of pictures. We even drove up a mountain and upon ascent of this huge mountain, we crossed into Georgia. WHAT?! Halfway up the mountain! In a new state! Unbelievable! You wish you had a picture of it, right!? That's how unbelievable it is, correct?! Well, you can't. Because MY BRAND NEW CANON CAMERA HAS A BUG INSIDE IT.

Dear Mr. Bug,

How the hell did you get into my brand new camera and ruin my life in Chattanooga? HOW???

Sigh. We drive onto Atlanta tomorrow and I'm hoping to crash a Best Buy and offer to trade pieces of New York City paraphernalia in exchange for a new digital camera. I think that is an excellent plan. We'll see. I have to stop complaining about the camera because Melissa called me a Debbie Downer and trust me, that is NOT what you want to be labeled as. Ever. So. I will shut up about the damn camera and hopefully have it repaired or replaced because seriously you guys?

I loved that camera.

And now a bug lives inside it.

His name is Fred.

Regardless, it's been a long week. Fevers and great shows and bad shows and computers that won't log onto the wireless internet (mine), cameras that have issues (mine), beautiful children dancing in the aisles and making me laugh. There are new pictures on flickr, pictures I took BEFORE MY CAMERA DECIDED TO RUIN MY LIFE.

We're on to Week #2 and I am SO excited for Atlanta and to have more 80's Sing-A-Longs with members of my cast. We did a rousing rendition of "Open Arms" the other day, with harmony and everything. It woulda made you WEEP, it was that good. And so, I press on. Tell God to surgically remove Fred and his bowels from deep inside my camera so that I don't have to have anymore emotional meltdowns. Thanks y'all!

Click here for pictures from the past week! They have not yet been organized into a set, but they are the most recent pictures uploaded.