Vig's Warped Reality

Yesterday, Ruthless! The Musical, which I directed in January, was nominated for a large number of awards.
Tomorrow, The Who's Tommy closes.

Today, friends from work who saw Tommy last night showed up at my office door to tell me: how wonderful the show was, how surprising it was to see me embody a character such that they didn't recognize me, how fantastic the sound was, the lights, the sets. . . and I struggled to hold in the tears.

"How you doin', doll-baby?" Thomas asked when I picked up the phone. "Oh, honey, congratulations on all the nominations! You know you're going to sweep the awards. How happy are you?!"

I couldn't speak. I slammed my office door, and managed to tell him between stuttering breaths that I was not having a good day. (It's so fucking absurd.) Then I sobbed.

"Those are tears of Joy. . . right?"

"NO! That's what's so fucking absurd! All these people keep coming by my office and telling me I'm wonderful, and congratulating me for my success with Tommy and for my nominations for Ruthless, and all I can think about is that after tomorrow night it will all be over. All I'll have to look forward to is this god-damned hopeless fucking job."

I was really crying. You know, as if I really had something to cry about. . .(Did your Dad ever yell at you anything ever along the lines of: "If you don't shut that fuss up, I'll give you something to cry about."?)

"Something to cry about". . . oh damn. It's all so fleeting, then I still have to live my life, and go to a damn job, where it turns out that none of it ever mattered.

Wasted life: that's something to cry about. No it's not. of course it's not. I know it's not.

"Cheer the fuck up before I give you something to cry about!" - GOD

{deep breath, huge sigh}

Actually, I feel better now. . I wonder what that was about.

Sorry about that. And now back to our wonderfully charmed lives. . .