I'm not in the mood for emotion.

I mean, I wasn't yesterday and neither am I today. Too much work to finish.
So much for the 2-0-1-1-5 shit per week that they perpetrated. It's more like 2-0-1-1-1500.

I'm not joining mini-productions on Saturday. I'm sure it will be fun but -
No, actually it won't. I've had some experience working with people who'd rather not be shot and it.is.exhaauuusssting. Perhaps it would be better. But. Well.
I've been in theatre for a long time. And although i'm not the best actress i'm quite critical about it. So it's as much them as it is me.

Besides, it would be impossible to form any semblance of a group at this point. The only non-seniors I've had more than brief perfunctory conversations with are Zac and Rachel, and Zac already has a group. Rachel deciding to go overseas basically ruined my mini-production Saturday career. Rachel's such a bitch. Hope your face gets eaten in New York.

Kidding.

If they allowed me to form a group all on my own I would be more than happy to shoot things. Three minutes isn't very long. I did one and a half in five hours but with a lot of repetitive takes that could've been cut off. Or I could do one with Ryan Nic.

So anyway.

It was a bit anti-climatic that the point in which i found myself emotionally prepared to watch Doctor Who was when i was so emotionally exhausted that i had no emotions at all. I imagined that I would've been wearing my technicolor dalek shirt and that I would've managed to procure one of those dalek plushies or hats and a sonic screwdriver and that I would've been bouncing jerkily on my seat in front of a large tv screen the likes of that in the level 13 lounge, surrounded by flocks of Gaja people whom, with my alieny mind-control skills, I've managed to convert into dedicated Whovians. It would've taken me fifteen minutes of hyperventilating to double click the file, and then promptly burst into mad flaily wailing the moment it begins.

But no. The pressing was impulsive and without hesitation. There was no flailing and wailing. Instead i was in my gray, dark, orange-lamp-lit room with the worst cup of English Breakfast I've ever had. Significantly less dramatic but more comforting. I guess I always knew this had always been how it was gonna be. Except for the bad tea. I couldn't have predicted that.

So yes, I've watched Asylum of the Daleks. And cried, which was cathartic and comforting. The point where Arthur's chin face shivers before he draws back and answers, "We've always known that I love you more than you love me." or something to that effect. I don't dare watch it again. I have cried sufficiently for this week.