I Want a New Drug...

So, after an amazing and productive night working with just 'Adam' (my Dear D) and 'Steve,' tonight's rehearsal for The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told had only one advantage: we got to move out of the cramped and useless rehearsal space we had and into the theatre, proper. Bonus, right?

Wrong. First, one of my actors (who has already been late for three rehearsals) called to say he had a "family emergency" and couldn't make rehearsal. I know things happen beyond our control, but this raises a red flag in my mind, especially in light of his history with me. Second, we arrive at the scheduled rehearsal space, only to find it locked, which means we have to find a security call-box and then wait for an ancient Campus Police Officer to pull up in his golf cart and unlock the shitty little lecture hall with the obtrusive work station which we've been given for rehearsal. Then, we finally get on our feet and my producer shows up unexpectedly and says "We can move into the theatre."

So, rehearsal stops again as me move over to the actual performance space, which is a very happy thing. But... by this time my cast is so discombobulated and distracted, that the rehearsal takes twice as long as it should have and most of them are barely paying attention to what's going on. Bonus points for our costumer arriving to at least meet the cast and discuss what seems like a million and four costumes in Act I, alone. And we did manage to take some publicity shots.

But still... it was a disappointing rehearsal...

I know I have a terrific cast and I trust (most of) them as much as I am asking them to trust me, but I'm now just a little nervous. Opening night is less than a month away...

So I guess the title of this post refers to the fact that maybe I need some Zoloft, or (heaven forfend) Prozac to help me stay more positive...

Or maybe I just need to get some.

Hmmm....

More, anon.
Prospero

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