I tell myself not to laugh, because I've been there, so often, it's almost funny and also painful. It's like a verbal flogging to the ego to have a director spend too much time on you because you're not nailing the part. The Director handles it well though, adding some wit to the rehearsal, saying, "Oh, alright", everytime someone asks to start from the top of the scene. Picture Santa Claus, with his hair longer and in a ponytail, directing children's theatre in his spare time, and that's what The Director looks like. I either see "Man/Father" working extra hard on this show, amazing us all and gaining our respect, or quiting and spending the rest of his days saying, "You want fries with that?". I'm waiting for someone to tell him to keep his day job, but to toss happy meals all day wouldn't be a career hi-light to anyone.

It was fun, rehearsing the show, and I can't wait to have my role absorbed into my skin, to get to the Deaf Center, where it'll be shown, and to actually perform it for a live audience.

I'm scared too, but I want to hold onto that sensation, otherwise to feel nothing won't energize me throughout the play.

I came home, and mom had just popped into the DVD, Imitation of Life. Holy tear-jerker! I could tell, during the scene where the black mother is dying, and Lana Turner is by her death-bed, that my parent's were fighting like mad to stop their tears from flowing. I don't even want to mention the ending, for it'll make me bawl out loud. I hate crying, but when the tears really want to burst from my eyeballs, I really want to get it out of my system. My mom said she'd seen it before, and said she related to it. She's light-skinned, so she's had her identity issues, I guess. She doesn't go on about her feelings or unload the troubles of her past, much. I thought I even saw a glimmer of a tear at the corner of my dad's eye too.

A bonding moment.