And I feel…

not good.

I still have costumes that need altering, because they just aren’t fitting right, and I appear to be roughly the size of a house in them… I still have a giant styrofoam ball that has to look like a moon in two days, and I’m thinking that ain’t gonna happen… I feel like I’m two left feet and all thumbs with a generous dose of I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing thrown in… I don’t feel pretty.

It’s a weird place to be.

Shouldn’t one be excited and anticipatory about an upcoming performance?

I just feel kind of sad.

Still.

And if I have anymore ‘alternate reality’ dreams with robed people and post-apocalyptic tribal horror artists in them, I’m going to crawl into the corner of my closet, wrap my arms around my knees and start rocking back and forth.