Er, I don't think I'm in Colorado anymore...

(Please excuse me, I'm not much of a writer. And I made an 8 hour drive at 2am this morning so I need a nap. But this first.)

I'm on the phone with my parents staring at my car. They are trying SO HARD to find things for me to be positive about.

"Is it pretty? How is the house you're living in? Are you taking pictures?"

"There's nothing to take pictures of. Not within walking distance. I'd have to drive"

I'll have to drive everywhere. EVERYWHERE. These f***ing mountains, it's impossible to WALK anyplace because it's a mile UPHILL to get to the theater or anywhere from the institution ski lodge I'm staying in. And I'm going to spend half my paycheck on gas. Why oh why did I sign this contract?

I'm still staring at the car.

"I can't let it go. Everything is fine, it's all just fine, but I can't get past this gas thing and it's making everything else miserable."

2 months ago I signed a contract to work as the Company Manager/Stage Manager/Whatever for a small Shakespeare company in New Hampshire, smack dab in the mountains. I took a step down from the places I've been working to come here. It's maybe the least professional company (by union standards) I've ever worked for. I wanted to step out of my stage manager role and give something else a try, spread my wings.

And when I read in my contract that I would need to bring my car, I didn't give it a second thought. It is standard in theater that the company manager has a car that they use to drive company members around in. It is also standard for the company to reimburse their company manager for the gas they use. I did not find out until after I signed the contract that they would not be reimbursing me for gas. I am being used.

So I came to New Hampshire. And I had a bad attitude. As one would have when they feel they are being used. And it was all I could think of and I made myself miserable for weeks prior to coming all over this stupid gas thing.

After I got off the phone with my parents, I woke up the director and told him we needed to leave in order to make it to dinner in time. We were invited to dinner by the Artistic Director. And as we were driving, I looked at the mountains.

They are kind of pretty. Really pretty, actually, majestic almost. Not the Rockies, but pretty. I like how the mountains look when the day is ending and the peaks are throwing shadows over the forests. And when you're driving through the mountains in New Hampshire, you pass lakes and streams and a few other interesting sights that are all the more incredible when it's seen in a fleeting moment as you speed around the curve. I didn't get to drive in the Rockies. But now I'm driving through mountains, and look at this road! All the turns and bends and ups and downs. I never drive like this in the city. I never drive like this, period. I like driving like this.

And I will remind myself of that every time I have to drive somewhere this summer. Every time I have to shell out my earnings at the pump, I will remind myself to stop bitching and just try to enjoy the ride. Cause it's a beautiful ride and all the bulls*** is just bumps in the road. It's not so bad. (insert half a dozen bad things I'm not supposed to talk about according to my contract) Well, not SO bad.