For an interesting start to my day, just before I woke up, I dreamed first that I went back to work at my first job out of college, working for my first boss, and then that dream transitioned to me being on jury duty -- and these weren't nightmares. Not that they were the kind of happy dream you don't want to leave when you wake up, but I didn't have the kind of emotional or physiological reaction I associate with nightmares. I was going back to that job with a sense of resignation and a mental vow to get out of there as soon as possible. It certainly was incentive to get to work today to create something that could earn me some money so I won't have to take measures that extreme.
I wondered in my musing on darkness if maybe I was just a big weenie, and the answer may be "yes." I had something of an epiphany Friday night when I went with some friends to see the stage version of Rocky Horror and realized that I would never in a million years have the guts to do something like that. Aside from the singing stage fright, I don't think I'd have the nerve to do a whole show just wearing lingerie or to act like that. I'd want to have some kind of disclaimer that I'm not really like that. Which means that in spite of my idle daydreams, I probably never would have made it as an actress because I'm a big, huge chicken. It wouldn't hurt me to step out of my comfort zone every so often, though. I took drama classes in college, and I've pondered taking the acting class at the nearby community college, just for the loosening up that's pretty much forced upon you (acting technique is also great for characterization). But I still won't be auditioning for Rocky Horror. I was flustered enough when they came up the aisle to do the Time Warp at the finale, and I found myself dancing with "Rocky," who was wearing nothing but a gold Speedo. My social life lately generally hasn't involved nearly naked men with nice bodies, so that was ... interesting.
In other weekend news, I absolutely loved the pilot for White Collar on USA. Smart, attractive people thinking their way through cases while having a sense of humor -- yeah, I'm in. Plus, after last week's discussion on the whiny girlfriends/spouses of save-the-world guys, it was refreshing to see the FBI agent's wife being so cool. She didn't whine or make a fuss when her husband didn't make it home for dinner. She just called the dog to the table and let it eat her husband's dinner. She struck a nice balance between being supportive and showing concern about how hard he was working. When she mentioned how hard he was working, it did come across as concern for him and not "what about meeeeeee?" whining. Meanwhile, the ads weren't tricking me into getting a slight Owen vibe from the main character. The character is totally different, but there were moments where he really struck me as looking just like something I'd pictured, and the voice was even right. It was a little eerie. I'm still not endorsing any particular actor or indulging in fantasy casting, but I would certainly be on board if they wanted to cast Matt Bomer (and hey, he's already working for Universal). And now I kind of want to go write more books about Owen.
Today is delightfully dreary, and I have nothing on my agenda but writing, so after lunch I'll be hauling the laptop to the loft and settling down for a marathon working session. I'm even wearing the Fuzzy Pink Pajama Pants of Writing. I don't work in my pajamas, but I do have items in my wardrobe that are meant to be pajamas that I have designated as daytime work clothes. On cool, dreary days, the Fuzzy Pink Pajama Pants are ideal for curling up with the laptop.
One last thing: I don't have a topic in mind for a writing post this week. Does anyone have something you want me to tackle? I think I've worked through the last list I made of reader requests.