Wrote this article for Scallywag and Vagabond about the Whitney Art Museum Gala and studio party. I'm actually quite pleased with how it came out, since I was running on 2.5 hours of sleep at the party and while writing it.
Lack of sleep is a running theme this week and I do not care for it. I am not one who performs well without sleep or food (or champagne or constant attention) and it is taking it's toll.
For example, here is a timeline of the last 23 hours in the life of Sarah.
Midnight: head to bed, feeling righteous about the early hour.
2:30am: wake up convinced there is a rock pressing down on my chest. It is the cat. He is lovely.
3:30am: give up on tossing and turning, get up to clean bathroom, organize medicine cabinet and shower, very much confusing The Boy.
4:50am: catch train into the city, gazing in wonderment at all the people. What are they doing awake? Shouldn't they be in bed?
5:50am: clutch cappuccino like firstborn child, chug with abandon.
6:00am: film TV segment without falling asleep/over. Success.
7:00am-11:00:am coffee. So much coffee.
11:00am-12:00pm: get through phone conference without expressing my opinion/bellowing, "STOP TALKING, I HATE YOU ALL." Success.
1:00pm: acting class. Delightful, productive, exhausting.
2:15pm: peruse boots in random shoe store before wondering what the balls I was doing out of bed when I didn't have to be.
2:30pm: miss train. Curse.
3:00pm: catch train. Curse (with excitement).
3:40pm: awake on train with woman's head on my shoulder. Pat it gently.
3:50pm: regret tender gesture in the face of woman's audible and rhythmic flatulence.
4:30pm: arrive home, after brief autumnal jaunt on scooter.
4:31pm: arrive at bed, with SVU and gummy bears in tow.
6:00pm: yell (aloud) at myself, "WHY AREN'T YOU SLEEPING?" Fall asleep.
9:00pm: gently woken by The Boy who is horrified to hear of aforementioned schedule.
The weird thing is, I don't even mind. In fact, I realized last night that the life I am living now would not only satisfy my dreamy teenage self, but it would excite the hell out of her. I can't believe I got so damn lucky. Or so damn tired.