Rehearsal last night, as previously mentioned, was rough. Genuinely skipping pages. Then skipping pages, and circling back to those skipped pages, meaning the actors who knew the script were then rushing to figure out WTF?! We haven’t done a run through of the technical aspects of the Skydiving Scene which gives me great personal anxiety. But I’m working with people who strongly believe in modern parenting styles so we just get “Good job! You’re doing better then you did last week, so we ARE seeing progress! Just keep at it!” Except we open next Friday. And the primary people you’re working with were raised by the Silent Generation. The “positive encouragement only” actually makes them feel condescended to at best. One of them specifically said, “Do they just not care?” in response to the Positive Messaging Only tact. So, I let them know what the other side of that coin looks like. Rathe was not nice about my line struggles but by God she got me to say the script properly by showtime! And the primaries weren’t exactly fond of that approach either. What feels… particularly unfortunate? I’m not sweating this. Because I am so confident that I can do nothing to tank this show or save it; I’m very much just.... “Don’t make me look bad on stage” which… is selfish stereotypical actor-douche behavior but.... this is the business. I will do my absolute level best. Theater is an ensemble experience. My level best when partnered with brilliant actors makes me look like a fucking rock star. My level best when partnered with mediocre actors makes me look like I’m competent. At the very worst: no matter how bad any of it is or gets? I’m judging success by whether Act 2 Scene 2 gets any laughs. Each night, that’s my definition for success. We have rehearsal every day but Saturday from now until open. God be with us!
After rehearsal, because another piece I’m worried about is stripping heavy make up off while doing a costume change… I went to Wal Mart to pick up makeup remover and face cleanser. I don’t go to this Walmart often for.... several reasons. It is the nicer of the local Walmarts to be certain… but it is still Walmart. With the corresponding customer-base. The parking lot is guided and you can tell which way to go due to angled parking but… that was of no interest to the lifted blue pickup truck that attempted to drive over my car. THAT kind of Walmart clientele. Plus… this was the Walmart Nancy worked at when I was in college. Which I definitely think about as I enter. Sending my already Two Face inclined mind in two directions. One: laughingly wondering if I’m so desperate to “pick up where I left off” that I’m in danger of seeking another employee from the store as potential partner. Two: morosely contemplating life in general… Nancy hated the job.... but worked at Wal Mart right up until Last County, when not working at all made her spiral. I wonder what she’s doing these days… if she’s working at all.. if she’s finally found work that she can do without it leaving her feel like her life is destroyed. Then, because of the situation I am currently in, I start to wonder how much of that may have just been me. Maybe she felt that way because of me. I can’t say how. But because I can see people are thinking the same thing about me and this job as I was about Nancy and Walmart.... the thought comes up.
I grabbed what I needed, drove home through the dark, the rain, the lightning, and the thunder. Because of that description, when I got home- I was not surprised to see Nala slowly and timidly poke her head out of the bedroom door to verify it was me and she was safe to come out from under the bed. At which point she spent the next ten minutes pretty muchbegging to go downstairs. Here’s the real humor for Nala. I don’t use the baby gate anymore for the basement. And the gate was only ever there because Nala had a hard time not pooping in the laundry room. As long as she doesn’t poop downstairs, she can access it all she wants. But she’s associated the whole thing too closely in her mind. She now doesn’t go downstairs unless I’m home. And even then, won’t spend more than five minutes downstairs without me with her. And the basement feels more comfortable for her during storms… which makes sense considering in IF, bad storms that “sent us to seek shelter” meant “go to the basement”. So, she really badly needed basement time, even if it wasn’t playing with her toys, and was just her burying her nose into my lap as I pet her to calm her until the storm passed. After it did, we went upstairs to bed.
For reasons obvious to layman, I did not want to get out of bed this morning. At all. Neither did Nala. But one of us had to so that we can afford the house and the dog food. Work has been… what Tuesday mornings typically are. Preparing for over a hundred hearings for this afternoon. Receive dozens and dozens of e-mails, many of which being rather foolish or not based on legal principles. People laugh when I mention it; but seriously… the fact that the majority of people I deal with not only didn’t go to law school but would never be accepted to law school makes a difference! I am more convinced every day that I can’t remember how to be a proper lawyer; because I can’t be one with this clientele. And I see it every week. I sit there. I describe carefully what Court is, how Court works, who goes when, that they have to ask questions, that if they testify then they are waiving their 5th amendment right.... all of it. And without fail when we get into the Courtroom, they either didn’t listen, didn’t understand, or didn’t believe me. AND… I’m not required to aid in any way. The spiel I give is to make Court run smoother; which benefits everyone, but legally- I don’t have to talk to the Defendants prior to trial at all. I’m entirely permitted to simply walk in, go into the Courtroom, sit down, and say with my actions, “Fuck you. I’m not your attorney. You don’t get one for free. Hire one or let’s get this over with.” Honestly, too much of my Pro Se stress… well… too much of it comes from people being complete morons in lots of ways.... but there is a lot that comes from the “I’m trying to make sure there is at least something adjacent to justice here” efforts with a populace that couldn’t describe juris prudence even with the help of a dictionary and the internet.
And that is going to be the kind of topic that I can’t help but obsessively focus on until the illiterate orange ass in the White House changes. “I don’t believe in science. I don’t know words. I genuinely said that I brought the word groceries back into fashion; despite thinking that you need to prove your ID to buy bread. I’ve never even seen the word ‘acetaminophen’ before, but I guarantee you without scientific evidence, this is what causes autism!” The idiots won. Education is slowly dying entirely. It’s rather horrifying in many ways.
As should shock no one, I am very tired as I go into my hundred plus hearings. And the current Magistrate couldn’t figure out our new system last time. The new system circumvents SOO MANY HEADACHES because… people check in at the front desk. The judge gets that information. I DO NOT. So… providing me that information makes things go more smoothly. The previous two magistrates, since implementing this change, each did it in their own way- but both ways worked. So.... let’s… find a way that works for this magistrate so we can keep that going?! Here’s hoping I can keep pushing on. Having a hundred rehearsed conversations interrupted by the occasional hostile “because fuck cops” rejoinder until the day ends and I have to go to a rehearsal where I’m mostly sitting backstage.... too tired.
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And 63 percent of the hearings showed up. Which is a lot. Which is a good thing! But… my voice is feeling it. Which, since our Director isn’t sure if she wants to use microphones or not for the show? FINGERS CROSSED I DON’T LOSE MY DAMNED VOICE IN THE NEXT 13 DAYS!
But of course… man… sometimes I just do not get what other attorneys expect. Whiny Guy from yesterday? Multiple e-mails today. Dude? Is this because you can charge .1 of an hour for every e-mail? Or do you honestly think I just sit in my office doing nothing all day? (Whiny Guy then phoned me to reiterate everything that he had said over the phone the night before, and then said in his multiple e-mails. Now I’m starting to wonder if this is his only case so that he has to make a meal out of every little thing so he can justify his billing for this case. Because… honestly? FFS- you said it last night. You said it in two different e-mails. You don’t need to keep reiterating it.
But probably just as annoying is the 30 year old’s phone call who is “frickin’ pissed” that the police even have airplane speed traps! And refuses to “comply with any court appearance demanded” until the State complies with his demand to “turn over any and all information detailing the operation of the plane, the certification of the plane, the pilot’s license of the so-called police pilot, the certification of the police officer as officer, the repair history of the plane, the FAA authorization to operate of the plane” and the list of demands goes on and on from there.... to the point that I was surprised he didn’t demand the proof of receipt for any and all replacement bolts, screws, or nails!!! NOT kidding! THAT kid needs to get over himself. I appreciate that discovering an airplane grabbed your speeding and you’re upset because how could you slow down for a cop you couldn’t even see… that’s rather the point. The speed limit isn’t “Obey as long as you see a cop around”… it is “obey because it is the law.” AND I know how unpopular this is. Trust me. I get more people telling me they hate me, or want me dead, or think I’m a full blown Nazi because my job is traffic tickets but.... lets be really fucking honest here..... without regulation any individual or organization can be dangerous. You want to tell me that we should be fine with 19 year olds going 98 through town? You think we shouldn’t have any issues with someone going 120 on a country road? I’ve got the body counts to say “Even when we have strict enforcement and heavy penalties- it isn’t enough to convince people that they can’t safely go as fast as they think they can.” Hell, Nancy and Hermia had family stories of someone driving too fast on a country road then suddenly TRACTOR and now a family member of theirs was dead. When multiple people from different parts of the State all have “And then they died, too” stories? I’m not going to feel bad that part of my job is to say, “STOP SPEEDING, FFS!” Hell, honestly, hand to God, I’ve been prosecuting for a total of 10 years (combined) and this year in a rare Urban/Rural mix (not just rural) I’ve had more “This traffic ticket is connected to at least one fatality” then my entire previous time combined. SO yeah. When I say “STOP AT THE FUCKING STOP SIGN” or when I say “NO, IT IS NOT OKAY THAT YOU WERE GOING 105 ON THE INTERSTATE” know that it comes from “Because too many people have already died that way this year” place.
Oh… and because I now have 5 different cases of this, something to say to you who I care about… that I didn’t think I would need to say. If the stop arms are coming down at train tracks? STOP. Don’t weave through the arms- that’s a way to end up dead. Don’t suddenly slam the gas to see if you can get through the tracks before the arms are all the way down.... that’s illegal, and if you’re wrong and break the arms, that’s a considerably heavier fine! Not to mention, of course, you could die.
Rehearsal tonight?
The director wasn’t here. Again. She’s a friend so I’m concerned.
But that means the Head of the Theater sat in. And did very important fucking work on the first half of the show. Like literally took it from “Two people talking boringly and blandly while seated” to fucking theater. So… more of that, please? Though… man… I am so… me. I know my role is tiny. Literally miniscule. Casting me is essentially “It doesn’t matter who is in this role. Chris is a workman actor; so we can trust that he’ll do the job well. Get the laughs. Then be good with it.” SO.... in a show where I have 5 scenes (with my biggest in the second half)… three of my scenes were in the half we did today and… literally no notes. WHICH IS FINE. That’s the way of saying, “Chris is doing what needs to be done” but… it’s me. Notes mean that the director was watching me and can help me. So… my dumb actor brain is all “Oh no! I didn’t get any notes!”
Then on the way home? I GOT PULLED OVER BY A COP! Full “license, insurance, registration” all of that. He literally followed me for 2 miles and pulled me over a single turn before my house. I was very aware of the officer behind me the whole time.
Turns out my front left light is out.
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