Last night was a late one. I spent most of it in the booth, working out the lighting sequences with the designer. Arrived home at around midnight. Ashley, who's in the play, didn't seem tired at all, but was chattering away, in her red dress with the white lace around the collar.
Even though I still have some sleep time (and need it), I can't. Corb left for work shortly after five, and I just lay in bed for a half an hour. Thinking about things. Things that need to be done for the play. Petty fears about how I'm handling the direction of the show. Thoughts about the things I'll get done after this week is over.
The play is going very well, and I'm pleased. It's been a good experience, although I get obsessive, and every night, ask Corb the same questions as we drive home. "What did you think? How did I do? Is it all going to pull together?"
David at work says that each of us (myself, Joe David) are united in one characteristic: we have a desperate desire for everyone to like us. It's as though we can't bear the thought of someone thinking badly about us, so we bend over backwards, do flips, jump through hoops, to avoid that from happening. I'm feeling a lot of that during this play.
That never used to be the case. I used to be motivated by far different things, and that resulted in a lot more temper tantrums and passionate outbursts. Sometimes I think that that "old Ted" was a lot more interesting to be around.
As it stands, I have questions about how many people truly do "like me" in this show. There are far too many people in the show who are directors in their own right, and I feel as if everything I do is being scrutinized and judged. But, besides that, in order to be a truly effective director, you sort of have to be a bit of an asshole. It comes with the territory.
Seriously. It will be nice to get back to writing.