Do you think our parents have any idea how hard we work?

My friend/colleague/whatever asked me that question on Thursday when we spent from 12pm to 5pm pounding out fundraising language, setting up our websites, drafting blurbs, etc. I’m pretty sure they have no clue. I mean, the hours (all joyful) that I put into this company is remarkable, and our goals and plans are beyond ambitious. I mean, we have 2 production managers, a budget of $26,000 for the whole summer, two of NYC’s best off-off theatres already booked, fundraising and social networking platforms in place, full casts, designers, and crews, 2 interns, a 501c3, a huge major donor list, an even huger contact list, weekly meetings, and a whole host of rave reviews and awards from our last production (incl. from the Wall Street Journal)?

Nope. They have no idea.

So I’m SUPER proud of myself because I just finished my paper. I hate these papers. But this one is DONE! Thank the lord. Now I only have a few things to do today, including eat, which I don’t want to do. I’m not hungover from last night, but I’m not really craving anything. Do you know that feeling? Food just kinda sounds not so good? Not like pukey but just like… not hungry.  C’mon recovery. Let’s go.

P.S. I totes was a badass yesterday and made it out of the house by 3:30pm to get to the Performing Arts library to look at some songs. Definitely some success! It’s pop/rock week. I can bring in 4ish songs to sing, but I’m having trouble choosing!

Alright, unofficial poll of the choices:
Joni Mitchell, “Big Yellow Taxi”
Liz Phair, “Why Can’t I”
Norah Jones, “Don’t Know Why”
Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin'”
and last but not least, my childhood lullaby:

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