- C.S. Lewis 

Created on 3/22/01 from a letter written to KC.
The play is supposed to be the 5th, the day after my prom. Bloody bad timing, you know, but I wasn't given much of a choice. I like being a director. Yelling at Conrad (And yes, he is the County Players guy, we are getting a lot from CP) is quite a rush. Well, I only yelled at him once. Generally I respect him greatly. But ordering around actors better than me is a new thrill for me. And it hasn't lost its novelty yet.
Katie is coming to watch my rehearsal tomorrow. And, not to be crude, if we don't fool around, I am positively going to explode.
I'm going to stick with my job for a little longer. Probably until they assign me a job title (which they are forced to do soon). That will look marvelous on my resume. Anything involving a such an institution generally does.
My mom is pretty much over her friend's death. Her biggest complaint, aside from what to do with the ashes, was the funeral. All of her friend's ex-lovers stood up and told (in graphic detail) about their relationship with Ellen, right in front of their present lovers. Personally, I'd be keeping my mouth shut in front of my present lover, no matter how bereaved I was.
The significance of the buffalo was that she wanted Ellen to be a strong as a bull and eventually it became a buffalo. I don't remember how. The weeping cherry tree doesn't have much significance. I think my mother just felt that was a sweet way to remember her. Of course, now she refers to the tree as "Ellen," but in a non-psychotic way.
I'm being forced to go to Dutchess. I don't want to, understand. I wanted to go to New Paltz (and not just because all my friends are going there). But my parents wouldn't listen. They knew DCC gave me a full ride, so I was not allowed to argue.