Yesterday right before I left the house to go do the show my cat drooled directly into my eye (shut up, we were cuddling while I was lying down on the couch). Within about 40 seconds my eye had swelled almost to the point I couldn’t open it. Antihistamine drops and a Benadryl reduced the Quasimodo element enough that from the stage, at least, I looked like a normal human. It kept tearing up but the makeup I wear is more than tough enough to take that in stride.

For the first time since I joined the cast of Phantom we had a “full company” show last night, meaning nobody was sick or having a personal day or on vacation or out for any other reason; what the Playbill lists as “the cast” is really and truly the cast on stage. 

During our Degas dance there’s a moment where I’m supposed to whisper something to one of the other dancers. Sometimes I get jokey or creative but when I’m tired I go with pretty much my internal monologue. So last night at that moment I grabbed her hand and said, “Full company tonight! What a great omen for 2011!”

It wasn’t enough to fill up the time so I went on extemporaneously, letting the thoughts be what they would. 

“But what about my eye? That’s not a good omen, is it? 2011 will be a year of tears.”

And then Mme. Giry hit her cane on the floor to silence me and we went on with the dance as we always do and I could barely breathe because if I wasn’t fucked before, I probably am now. Fate may or may not have it in for me, but I apparently have it in for myself. WHO SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT? Christ. 

Or else … maybe … my crying for the new year is done …

This sounds like the gold medal challenge in the Optimism Olympics: make this sound promising! If you can, please do. I’m usually all about that kind of thing but I’m currently too tired to try.