Yesterday... Was A Day.
Yesterday… I’m having a difficult time believing that there were only 24 hours packed into what shall, for the next fourteen hours anyway, be referred to as… yesterday.
I got up, reasonably well-rested, and headed into DC to record voices for the educational cartoon. The powers that be were gracious enough to allow my brother into the studio for an hour or so; so he could see what it was all about. He had a great time, and I was grateful that he could see me ‘in my element’.
Speaking of in one’s element-- I also got the dime tour of Fairfax Hospital yesterday afternoon, from the only employee there I know. Amanda couldn’t take me anywhere restricted, naturally, but I did get to take it all in. This was her turf. It suited her very nicely.
How did I find the time, you ask? Easy: I took the whole day off from work for the Voice-Over gig, which ended with a few hours of daylight to spare. I’m pleased to report that in addition to the other four voices I do for the show, I got to tackle voice number five, or numéro cinq, as the case may be. *Insert French-sounding chortling here*
It was a full day in the booth. Which, for the record, could use a silent fan, or some AC or something. WHEW. Gets a bit warm in there!
I honestly don’t know what the heck is up with my inner clock. I’m alternately getting not enough sleep, or too much, whatever it is, I’m throwing myself off. Don’t like it. It culminated in my falling asleep on the Metro. I nodded off for about 15 minutes, which naturally meant I missed my transfer stop. KAPLAHR.
I added half an hour to my trip, and ended up being fifteen minutes late to that evening’s callbacks. This was neat: I get to the callbacks, and they’re JUST wrapping up teaching every one a 16-measure dance routine. I watch it… maybe three times, jumping right in and trying to pick up what I could.
I’m not a very good dancer. Words? Yes. Hands? Very nimble. Feet and legs? Nuh-uh. They then review us in lines of five, to observe. I get up for the second line of five, and the dance instructor asks me, “Do you need more time to watch?” I shook my head and answered, “I’m not going to get any better than I am.” Amusingly true.
You may have noticed I didn’t mention the name of the show I tried out for. Don’t wanna jinx myself. Needless to say, I sang better than I have in a while, and the readings went reasonably well too. We’ll know Sunday what the score is.
I finally arrive at home around 11:45, gratefully tired (like I said, haven’t been sleeping well). And I checked my email.
A friend of mine sent me some (frankly) shitty news. For what it's worth, I’m glad they did.
There’s no mood too good, no occasion for which storm clouds would be inappropriate. It happens; and I want my friends (all of them) to know that it’s okay to come to me with anything, anytime. I don’t shoot messengers.
Singing Telegrams are a different story, but that's neither here nor there.
I got up, reasonably well-rested, and headed into DC to record voices for the educational cartoon. The powers that be were gracious enough to allow my brother into the studio for an hour or so; so he could see what it was all about. He had a great time, and I was grateful that he could see me ‘in my element’.
Speaking of in one’s element-- I also got the dime tour of Fairfax Hospital yesterday afternoon, from the only employee there I know. Amanda couldn’t take me anywhere restricted, naturally, but I did get to take it all in. This was her turf. It suited her very nicely.
How did I find the time, you ask? Easy: I took the whole day off from work for the Voice-Over gig, which ended with a few hours of daylight to spare. I’m pleased to report that in addition to the other four voices I do for the show, I got to tackle voice number five, or numéro cinq, as the case may be. *Insert French-sounding chortling here*
It was a full day in the booth. Which, for the record, could use a silent fan, or some AC or something. WHEW. Gets a bit warm in there!
I honestly don’t know what the heck is up with my inner clock. I’m alternately getting not enough sleep, or too much, whatever it is, I’m throwing myself off. Don’t like it. It culminated in my falling asleep on the Metro. I nodded off for about 15 minutes, which naturally meant I missed my transfer stop. KAPLAHR.
I added half an hour to my trip, and ended up being fifteen minutes late to that evening’s callbacks. This was neat: I get to the callbacks, and they’re JUST wrapping up teaching every one a 16-measure dance routine. I watch it… maybe three times, jumping right in and trying to pick up what I could.
I’m not a very good dancer. Words? Yes. Hands? Very nimble. Feet and legs? Nuh-uh. They then review us in lines of five, to observe. I get up for the second line of five, and the dance instructor asks me, “Do you need more time to watch?” I shook my head and answered, “I’m not going to get any better than I am.” Amusingly true.
You may have noticed I didn’t mention the name of the show I tried out for. Don’t wanna jinx myself. Needless to say, I sang better than I have in a while, and the readings went reasonably well too. We’ll know Sunday what the score is.
I finally arrive at home around 11:45, gratefully tired (like I said, haven’t been sleeping well). And I checked my email.
A friend of mine sent me some (frankly) shitty news. For what it's worth, I’m glad they did.
There’s no mood too good, no occasion for which storm clouds would be inappropriate. It happens; and I want my friends (all of them) to know that it’s okay to come to me with anything, anytime. I don’t shoot messengers.
Singing Telegrams are a different story, but that's neither here nor there.
posted by Casey Jones @ 1/13/2006 10:16:00 AM
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