Chapter 08

The Google bastards are trying to screw me, they made my fucking ads PSAs again, what the fuck did they do that for!? Is there no decency in the corporate world!? Wait, forget I asked.

Chapter 7

My head feels mighty fucked right now. It is 2 in the morning, and I've recently ingested two Tylenol Extra Strength cold pills. The nighttime variation. I don't know how much longer I can hold on. My head feels all messed up. Sort of like those cartoons where they show that mess of squiggly lines to represent how the character's thoughts are all fucked inside their mind. That's what I knid of feel like now. I just don't know. Hamburger Helper tastes great at the early stages of the morning. I want more, though...

This seems like a good spot for a new paragraph. for those who didn't clue in from the pill comment, I'm sick. I obviously didn't pop nighttime pills looking for an exuberant high, now did I? For from it, I needed something to bring me down. This cold is killing me, and I need rest. Taking the daytime, non-drowsy shit would have been a waste of non-drowsy pharmecuticals.

My ads finally work, by the way, I should mention this while I'm conscious enough to remember. Click away and sign up for free bullshit, you're making me money everytime to do. Show those bastards that we can do what we want, and they can damn well pay us for it! Why the hell not? Have we not done enough to warrant a little reward for the stress of everyday life in which we are immersed every single day of our very short, and too short, might I add, lives? Should we not be gifted with a small token of appreciation for our contributions, which are supposed to be worth at least a couple bucks to begin with, with which we might get completely mashed and do crazy shit with our closest of friends and relations? Why the hell not? Better us than the government, I say.

Exams coming up. Need to make this cold fuck off. I'll never be able to think clearly with the haze of sickness clouding my judgement. My head's lolling from side to side. i'm not sure anymore if it's from the sickness or the drugs. Not like it matters, one or the other is going to put me to sleep very...very soon. A thickness in the back of my eyes. Sinus pressure build-up. It's going to be one of those fucking nose colds I hate so much, where your nose runs like a marathon and no amount of medicine will get to it in time to stop it. Reason takes hold. I'm off to bed.

Chapter 6

No silliness tonight, tonight is not the time for such things. Within the last 72 hours, our drama group has completed and performed its two nights of shows. We didn't fuck anything up terribly, thus we had two solid, well-performed productions. Everything has passed so fluidly...too much so. I frown as I write this, because I know that by the time I finish, I will be going to bed, falling asleep, waking up tomorrow morning, and realizing the grim truth that all of our work, though fruitful, has come to a conclusion for another year. All of the stress, the worry, the grit and determination to make this thing a success has been well paid off...but now, sadly, it's all over.

More sorrowful still is the fact that our director, to be known always as Dr. Jules, is leaving my university to take on a position in B.C. Even though I, as well as the whole cast and crew, wish her all the best with her bright future, it still hurts to know that someone you've worked with for so long and shared so much with is parting ways with you.

Happier thoughts, though, as I look over to my bed, on which lies a beer mat, with a note of thanks and a signature on it. The afterparty. We and Jules shall part ways, but by damnit all, did we party it up in the end. A fitting formal farewell to a wonderful director and a wonderful person. What better setting than our beloved Gate. Good food, good drink, good friends. Money is not an issue. You can't buy memories, and memories are what we will all carry from this night into tomorrow and into the future, whatever it may hold for all of us.

Sad thoughts creep up slowly once again, but I won't give them a foothold. I'll not let them win the night, not after everything that had been shared during such a great evening of fellowship, of reminiscing and reflection on what we've accomplished, and what is in store for us. Memories of a promise made, a promise to be kept, sealed with a hug and smile between not just actor and director, nor student and professor, but between friends.

We -will- work together again.