Am I one of a dying breed? I've read several places that makeup (or at least makeup that looks like makeup, an important distinction) is out. But I love makeup! I've finally given in to the indoctrination and the MAC counter. I'm amazed at how makeup can change a person's face, express their personality, and give the self-esteem a little boost. I don't NEED makeup; that is well established by years of wearing no makeup or natural looking things. Still, I like it and I figure that it's better to have fun now than when I am in my forties. Don't get me wrong-- I wouldn't wear the high fashion elaborate looks over to grandma's, but it was a thrill the first time I got a compliment on my makeup from the clerk at Sephora.
I finally learned how to do a good line in liquid liner the other day. What a thrill! I did a very classic heavy line to have brunch with my Mom and she nodded with approval when I told her it was inspired by the early slutty-looking Barbie dolls. I didn't go for the red lips though. I still don't think that I can carry that off...
A lot of designers are showing a smoky, plum eye for Fall (take that Vogue and your "inspired by Vermeer" natural look!), which I tried out today. It's fun, and a look that can be interpreted in different, age appropriate ways.
Well, enough about the old facepaint.
My latest, long dreamt of project just flew off the needles this week. I finally made the v-necked shell from Rowan's All Seasons Cotton collection. Funny, it doesn't look so low cut in the picture. It is undeniably, almost unwearably low cut, and I carefully followed the pattern on the neckline. Oh, and all of those eyelets that I carefully put in just roll inward to invisibility. So, I tried pressing it out with an iron. Mistake. I threw it back in the washer for another pass at blocking, but this may become a *sweater vest*. That would be a real disappointment.
I ran into my aunt at Borders today. I hadn't seen her in months, so we had a long chat. I ended up telling about how I need to figure out what it is I am going to do with the rest of my life and then do it. Not the easiest thing in the world. She was very understanding. Thank god I didn't just wear the shell anyway, low neck be damned!

Let's all observe a moment of silence for my dearly departed car, the Dorothy Parker. We had some good times together and some bad times as well. I learned to drive in that car, took her to college, drove to the East Coast and back many times. But she and I had to part ways in Western PA, on a rainy day at the Howard Johnson. I got fifty dollars for her. She's probably being flattened with a baler as I type this. I knew that we were nearing the end of our journey together, but I didn't know that it would be like this.

My goodness, it's been nearly a month since my last post, but you should be used to that by now.
In the meantime, I have:
* Done yet another college orientation. Because the boss can't be bothered and the intern was elsewhere.
* Flirted with abandon. It was nice to have a little sparkle in my life again.
* Closed a show, opened a show, and started tech on a third.
* Realized that somehow, all of these things have to fit back into my car.
* Sprained my foot. Thank god for worker's comp. Oh, and frozen peas.
* Seen a pink moon.
* Been to MoMA and was disappointed. They're very interested in Art, but not in the art. Their collection desperately needs editing and I'd love more illuminating wall text.
* Seen Giselle at the Met. I'd never been to Lincoln Center before, so it was a marvelous evening.
* Finally finished my box of wine. It lasted nearly all season. Sniff.

Now, I've only to survive the rest of tech week, dodge my boss's erratic moods (he punched the desk yesterday, straight on, which looked quite painful), and somehow pack up all my things into the Dorothy Parker for one last road trip. I'm not sure when I'll have the opportunity to rest my foot, but I have it wrapped in an Ace bandage, atop an overturned paperbasket. I haven't finished any of the knitting projects I brought with me. I blame this largely on startitis and a lack of knitting time. Still, not as bad as I'd feared at times, and better than I expected in others.

But Monday is my day off! Why am I at work?
Yes, I had to roll out of bed early this morning to run sound for a freshman orientation session for the university. I, not entirely awake or excited about this task, strolled over to the theatre in my pyjamas to discover it full of eighteen year old girls wearing unbearably cute (but trying not to try to hard) outfits. The plan for the day is still a bit unclear to me, but so far so good. Other than not really getting a day off.
I haven't gotten much knitting done lately. I was pretty gung-ho about a pair of socks for my grandmother, but then sort of fizzled out. I'm on Henry IV now, which eats up a lot of time. Yesterday, we had a two show day and I was at the theatre for eleven hours. Ack. Nearly everyone on the crew has some sort of reading material stashed away for the slow moments, so we had a mock book club meeting during our dinner break last night. There is a surprising variety of literature being traded amongst stagehands. The actors probably wouldn't be thrilled about that, but they must know that we don't watch the show in its entirety. I watch my favorite scenes, or the ones that have tricky cues in them, but that's hardly three hours' worth.

I am sick as a dog. There seems to be something going through the company now. First, I felt in it in my lymph nodes, now I feel it all over in my head. I hate being sick. Well, I suppose everyone does except for hypochondriacs. So, last night, I was really dragging and decided to take a shower. I wanted to feel hot water fall on my head and breathe in lots of steam. Small problem: no hot water. I let it run for several minutes before getting in and got a nasty surprise. So, I headed back to my room, where I discovered that they've turned the heat off for the summer. It's only 56 degrees out now, during the day, so you can imagine how cold it is at night. Argh.
Fortunately, when I stumbled out of bed this morning, the hot water was plentiful. I took a shower that would make environmentalist/granola types shudder. It's the best thing for congestion. I'm also taking Nelson's colds and flu homeopathic medicine. It works by making you sweat it all out at once. So, I'm using my day off to try and get all of this ick out in order to be able to work the rest of the week. Sigh.
I'm going to look for a diner that serves chicken soup to self-pitying artist types.

My reunion was a bittersweet thing, as all such walks down memory lane are. So much of my college experience had to do with people who are no longer there. I was the only member of my graduating class to return, so there were very few familiar faces in the crowd. It did, however, inspire me to purchase a new translation of Swann?s Way.
A Few Facts about my Reunion:
* Trips to The Mill: 4
* Music: Rufus Wainwright, Rachael Yamagata, Ryuichi Sakamoto, The Postal Service, and Marianne Faithfull
* Readings attended: 4
* Readings enjoyed: 4
* Productions attended: 4
* Productions enjoyed: 1
* Amount paid for one of my photographs used on poster, flier, and programs: $0

Oh, and I accidentally left my cell phone charger at Willie?s and therefore must use my car charger instead.

Now, I am at my summer stock gig. A lot of crazy shit happens to me. My car is dying. My television gave up the ghost this morning. I can?t access the internet from my room because I don?t have a phone card and don?t have an Ethernet ID yet. I can?t win for losing sometimes.
Yesterday, I was watching Gilmore Girls when the picture went out on my TV. Great, I thought, now I know what it was like to live in the golden era of radio. I gave it a very professional whack and the picture returned, sort of. There were a few lines of distortion across the top of the screen, but everything else was okay. This afternoon, I turned it on to watch some sort of escapist, middle of a Saturday afternoon crap and discovered that the lines had migrated to the middle of the screen, leaving a big black bar across the top. I was only seeing below the equator. Sounds like a job for the vertical hold button, eh? Small problem?I don?t have one! I?m an AV professional, I thought, I?ll just unplug it and crack the casing to look for obvious problems. As I was bent over the tube, Leatherman at the ready, I noticed a foul, bad electronics smell emanating from within. Perhaps this was from old dust on a warm tube, but as I do not have a great sense of smell, I must believe that this was a sign of impending electrical fire. Or at least unpleasantness. So I shoved it under the bed and thought very unkind thoughts. I?m so glad that I hauled that thing halfway across the country for it to break within twenty-four hours. Maybe I?ll take a look at it later. There isn?t much to do here and it kills me not to be able to fix the problem. At least I?ve established that turning it off and back on again and a good whack are not solutions.

My car is the perfect candidate for Pimp My Ride. I?m oddly fascinated by that show, even though I?m not really into cars as anything but transportation. Hoopdies go in to emerge beautiful steel butterflies later. I know exactly what I would do for the video. Start with me walking around the car, pointing out the tragic passenger side dents and mismatched bumper. A shot of me pouring in transmission fluid, as I have a leak that would cost more to repair than the car is worth. Then, the interior. See how the mirror occasionally flips down on the sun visor as I?m driving? Hot! I?m a sound designer/engineer and I have your basic AM/FM radio and a wonky speaker. Small problem: you and your car must be in Southern California to be on the show, and she?s not going to make it that far. Don?t get me wrong, I love my car. I learned to drive in that car, have taken it cross country several times, and treat it as a sort of purse on wheels. But soon she will go the way of all rust, to that big junkyard in the sky, and it gets me a little choked up. We?ve had some good times together, my Dorothy and I, and some really awful ones as well. Like that time that I had a blowout on the Pike right outside of Philly, when I had a bunch of gear on top of the mini spare in the trunk. Nothing raises the ire of fellow motorists like driving 45 on a donut on the Pike. Or the time that I had to pull over on to the shoulder because I was crying hysterically after hearing a song on the radio in the middle of a messy breakup. Maybe I could have taken her to the car wash more often (or at all) and perhaps I should have used more than a couple of blankets to insulate my television from all the bumps and potholes of the PA highway system. These things happen.

I love my:
* Ipod and FM transmitter. I downloaded a frequency list from the manufacturer and can rock it whenever I?m in the car that I promised my mom I wouldn?t drive ?too much?.
* MAC makeup remover wipes (genius! And perfect for removing all those fab MAC products!)
* Spotting celebrities on the street in NY. I saw Mo Rocca the last time I went in. And no, I did not point, take photos, or follow him. My roommate and I talked about it for two blocks afterwards though.
* Brown eyeliner pencil. It?s a bit metallic and brings out the blue in my eyes.
* White eyeliner crayon from Sephora. A little shine that opens the eye. The visual antidote to a hangover, to quote my friend Lisa.
* Mascara. I didn?t wear it for the longest time because I thought I didn?t need it, what with my big luscious Johnson lashes. Wrong! A good mascara takes them to a power of ten, but I still try to use a light hand to avoid looking like a Liza Minelli impersonator/ drag queen.
* Coffee maker. I?m not a human being until eleven AM, so a morning coffee infusion before work is vital.
* Super discreet Manhattan Portage laptop messenger bag. You?d never guess I was carrying precious cargo in its unassuming navy confines.