I've been feeling a little headachey for the past twenty hours or so. There's the pressure that usually accompanies the headache, but no actual headache. I'm guessing that either my stupid allergies are acting up or what I'm experiencing is a residual effect from spending all yesterday afternoon cooped up in a dark basement in front of a computer screen.

I suppose I shouldn't complain. Not because I feel the need to spare anyone who may be reading this from my whining, but because I really don't have reason to complain. Yesterday afternoon was well-spent. I finally committed to WordPerfect my latest play as it stands at the moment (of course, I was revising as I went.) It's starting to, well, shape up. Excluding any re-writing I'll ultimately choose to do later, I'm about three-quarters of the way through.

In everything I write, I have vested interest. With this as-yet-untitled play, that interest is amplified. It's much more personal. Especially since a lot of the emotions I'm channeling into it are still so raw. It's going to be hard for me to give this up for direction, but I know I can do that; I did it with the last play. I don't think I hand over the main character to another actress, though. I think that, should this play (like Memoria before it) be picked up for the one act festival on campus, my return to the stage will be prompted.

I haven't acted in anything in almost five years. Sing for an audience, yes. Act, no. And I miss it. This character is a wonderful excuse for me to do what I've been missing.

And indulge my writerly control-freakishness.

Honestly, though, part of the reason why I can't see myself letting another actress play "Cass" is that I just don't think anyone else at a school without a drama programme could do her justice. And I know I could. I don't mean to sound like a braggart, but I'm a darn good actress. Consistently better than the craptacular material I usually had to work with in community theatre. What's more in this case, though, is that I know exactly what Cass is going through. I should, but not just because I created her and her neuroses. I should know what she's going through because I've felt the same sense of loss, futility, depression.

It is our ethos that is the same, though the experiences may be more dissimilar.

I just hope that--again, should the play be selected for production--the powers-that-be will allow me to play her.