it's like 9 inches of block

Ways in which life is full of "block:"

1. The show is in full-on blocking mode. This is the process wherein we determine where we will stand, sit, interact with one another/props/the set while speaking our lines. It is so called because everyone acts like blockheads. This is actually far too harsh on my fellow actors; I should clarify that it is I who often acts like a blockhead. This is because A) my character is a ditz, and life is imitating art, and B) I haven't done this in over five years and need to take a moment to remember the meaning of once-obvious directions such as "cheat downstage right." Bear in mind, dear reader, that I spent my entire childhood and adolescence doing exactly this process and cannot remember any of it, thus further illustrating the dictum that high school is a complete and total waste of time. Well, either that, or I drank a lot more than was good for my brain in college.

2. I actually cockblocked myself this weekend. I was on a date with this really nice, funny, cute guy, but just wasn't feeling The Spark. As we were leaving the restaurant, I asked if I could be frank, he said "of course," and I told him that while I had a lot of fun and wanted to see him again, I hoped it would be just as friends. He agreed that this was probably for the best, we exchanged the world's most uncomfortable hug on the sidewalk and went our separate ways.

Now, let's examine the myriad of ways in which I am an idiot for saying this. One, even if it's true and we both felt it (which I'm sure was the case), the odds that this guy and I are actually going to become platonic friends after this are non-existent, now that I had to go and tell the truth! You NEVER tell the truth on a the first date. The truth is carefully metered out in a process beginning on the fifth date and/or the first time you sleep together, and even then it's only things like "Actually, I really don't like Mexican food," or "I did once go to a Yanni concert of my own free will." Blurting out the harsh truth at the tender stage of Date #1 is such an amateur's mistake.

"But EJ," you say, "you didn't want to keep dating him! What's the problem?" The problem is, maybe I WOULD want to keep dating him after he grew on my a bit. I mean, we didn't even have any alcohol with our meal-- after a cocktail, I could totally see jumping on him. He really is so great on paper. How many handsome straight men are there in Washington who have already purchased tickets to Wicked for December?? And even if I didn't want to keep dating him, this doesn't mean he wouldn't be good for more base purposes.

So yes, I cockblocked myself. Well played, EJ. Well played.

3. I stepped in a dead bird in Adams Morgan at 3:30 on Sunday morning. Not on, in. There may not be a link to blocking in that (blocking my podiatric hygiene?), but I feel you should know it.

4. Work has been full of roadblocks lately. Every time I'm summoned into my boss' office he begins "I know you have so much on your plate, but..." Well yes, I do have a lot on my plate and I'm glad you realize this, so why, why Sweet Moses why, would you continue the speaking after that? Wherefore add on articles to write when there are four researchers on staff?

5. I have a daylight mental block. I work in academic communications all day and have to be on my A-game, with names and dates and publications at my fingertips. Then, when I walk out of the office, I either go to rehearsal and play at being a slutty stewardess, go to a bar and play at being a 23-year-old borderline alcoholic or go home, watch trashy MTV reality shows and play at being fifteen. I discovered last night, during my first-ever graduate class, that this divvying of the day into Brain On/Off will no longer work. Even though I'd done the reading and thought I was pretty well prepared, the professor decided to quiz me on topics entirely unrelated to the material as the PhD students smugly looked down their overlong noses. When I, redfaced and downcast, confused Sinclair Lewis with Upton Sinclair, there was actual guffawing. Jackass grad students.

God, I hope I get to be one of them soon.

6. All of the above leads to writer's block. This is all to explain the sad lack of updates and the entirely boring nature of the few there have been.