I am teaching a workshop for one of the last state agencies in North Carolina that has money. NC is in the middle of a major budget crunch, but these folks get federal workforce development dollars likeyou wouldn’t believe. And now they are saying that they want to use the training materials I have developed to turn around and disseminate my training to their regional people. I wonder if I am allowed to say “Fuck you” to the clients.

I snuck away from them at lunch– I have somehow managed to not say a word to any one of them unless it’s in the context of the workshop I am teaching. I am feeling really antisocial.

The only reason for getting out of bed this morning was that I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I had the night sweats something awful, even with the fan and the A/C on.

Second City’s touring company is in town tonight, so I’m stoked to see that. I’m miffed that a quality improv/sketch group that we could learn a lot from is in town, and the response from people in my troupe has been, “Oh, I’m not really interested in them.”

What the fuck? It’s Second City. We’re a shitty improv troupe in North Carolina. And with attitudes like that, we’re going to stay that way.

I start thinking that I’m too fucking complacent…

I’m talking about turning an essay I wrote on online dating into an atricle for the Spectator. That would be fun, but would widen the scope of my admission that I was bored enough to try that shit. Oh, well. Maybe then I could pass the whole experience off as an experiment I did as a detached observer, as fodder for my creative outlets.

No, fuck. I was depressed and lonely. How completely lame.