full often have you heard my moans, for parting my dear Pyramus and me.
I am the worst blogger in the world. Part of it just doesn't make sense to me, since when I write, I'm usually writing something that will go into a monologue or something. So I feel like I can't really write that in here. I'm just not used to journaling, I suppose. Or diarying. or whatever.
The other thing is time. I haven't written in you since the fall, I know. But that was because I was performing The Caretaker, and rehearsing The Salt Girl, and teaching, and performing The Salt Girl, and rehearsing Midsummer, and preparing for the holidays, and directing The Magic Flute at BoCo, so who had time to blog? But then again, isn't all that what I should be putting in here in the first place? Oh, I don't know. And sometimes I don't want to put too personal an entry, because then people will read it, but isn't that the point? Or is it? I guess I don't understand what you are.
Anyway, I suck.
As a blogger.
There.
I will try better.
I will try to figure out what you are.
