Weekend Update.

I successfully survived Snowmageddon. And Snowmageddon 2.0, a.k.a Saturday night. Although I did spend several somewhat frustrating hours waiting for my siblings to arrive at Union Station in the interim. I met a family from North Bay and a cat named Mozart.

It was a weekend of work-related events. I was going to say office parties, but since I worked at a children's summer camp that wouldn't be an entirely accurate assessment of the situation. But it was back-to-back Saturday and Sunday night. I suppose, really, I should just be grateful to have had work Christmas parties: one very sad friend of mine informed me that his place of employment "cancelled Christmas." My office's version of recession economics was a limit on champagne. And really, there's nothing like making drunken small talk with your colleagues.


This whole working in a real office thing has been very interesting for me, sort of like a window into a parallel universe. It's not something I ever really thought I would do and, I have to say, it hasn't been terrible. Granted, it's a little exhausting, somewhat creatively stifling, and quite frequently boring, but on a good day, it's also kind of fun. It's organized, structured, constant...something that theatre generally is not. And I can appreciate that. On a short term, basis, anyway. I still maintain that in the long run I would probably have to poke my eyes out with the letter opener...

And I like to think I have brought some of my actress's energy to the workplace--actually, I'm sure I have. While work ethic translates through all professions, the politics of each profession and place of employment are different. Now, this office is fairly laid back, but it still doesn't have quite the same feel as a rehearsal room. But there are similarities and sometimes I think they are almost the same if you can only draw those things out--you can still have a serious place of business and a laugh at the same time. I think I have encouraged everyone here not to take things too seriously. Have a little fun, too, as long as you still get your work done. We're not machines, after all.

And now that I feel I've brightened the experience and accomplished something here, it's just about time to get out. I need to do something creative again (even better if I could get paid for it) for my own survival and sanity, whatever that might mean.

A very successful producer on a panel discussion I attended said that he admires actors because they have one of the hardest jobs. He told us, if you can imagine yourself doing anything else, do that instead. But the problem is I really can't. And that is what is so terrifying, the fact that I have to do this.

I am in it now, for better or worse.