October 25th, 2004

Random - Garbo

Weekend things.

Right, well, in a moment I'm going to e-mail everybody instructions on how to get to my house (except for those who I'm collecting, which is all... one of you.  Err, unless anyone else wants to be collected.  It'd be doable, if complicated.) as well as what time to arrive and what to bring, etc.  Some of you I'm still not sure are coming or not, so I'll just send the details anyway.

On Saturday, we moved lots of furniture.  Then we went out in the rain to Maskerade to find me a wig - I can hire one for a very reasonable ten pounds - and I finally got some red eyeshadow and discovered that they sell black feather wings for £25.50, which is about the same as they were on Hot Topic's site.  But I'll check, because I think the Hot Topic ones were angel wings and not bat wings and probably marginally cheaper...  in any case, I may have to get some.  Wings!  We got back from Maskerade and moved some more furniture, so those of you (all... two of you) who have already seen my house will be slightly confused upon entering the living room...

And on Sunday, obviously, I was at my father's, though most of it was blocked out by my latest Alanis-Spiderman-Evanescence-Cerys playlist and the Drama and Action of Eastenders.  He's found a local amateur operatics group type thing, which meets every other Sunday, and asked me if I might be interested.  I declined, for several reasons:

1) I don't want to join something with him, because... I just don't.  It'd be more than a battle of wills.  I'd want to frelling hit him in rhythm to get him to sing in time.
2) The inevitable embarrassment/heartache/annoyance/general arghishness if one of us got in and the other didn't.  Especially so if it was me and not him.
3) I'm better than him.  Well, in any case, I'm younger than him and my voice is more trainable and slightly more versatile (and, y'know, higher; I have the Sarah Brightman syndrome of everything sounding higher than it really is), which would act in my favour
4) He's had more experience than me, which would act in his favour.
5) Last but not least, he's had 23 years to try and spend time with me (especially in this kind of capacity) and he decides to do so now?  Uh, no.  Sorry.  Not interested.  Maybe back when I actually liked spending time with him it would have been a possibility...

I do want to join something; once I've stopped gallivanting around the country and can actually commit to rehearsals I'll look further into it.  I don't think I ever told you this at the time, but just before I started uni last year, he was supposed to be directing a production of The Wizard of Oz and the last I heard until very recently, he was in the casting stages and looking for a Dorothy.  And I said in jest, "I'll do it!" - and got laughed off.  The most recent news is he's "lost interest" in it.

How can you lose interest in having that kind of power??  I mean, unless that's just me, but... *sigh* I'm beyond despairing.  Really.

So, yeah.  That's the latest aggravation.

I have nothing to do at work again, as I finished my horrendously huge pile of typing and distributions, so I think I'll spend tomorrow sneakily working on chapter five of Come Forward when nobody's looking, and find something that looks like Child Protection typing to do whenever someone comes up behind me.  I hate having my desk right by the filing cabinet, though I've got the instinctive minimising down to a fine art. :)

Right, email directions coming up, and then I'll book those bloody tickets...
Erik - blank

Oh. Wow.

Listening to Michael Crawford randomly on my Winamp playlist of everything, and suddenly, it dawns on me, a week later:  I saw him live.  I was in the fifth row and I saw him live.  And I did, in fact, dissolve into my seat at one point.

All of that will be explained in the write-up, which will be finished by Wednesday, so help me.

Oh, God.  That voice.