PPDD (and the Battle of the Century)
2004-03-22,

Saturday was the last performance of Li�l Abner. I wait for the Post-Performance Depression Disorder (PPDD) to start up, but nothing yet. Perhaps it�s too early, or perhaps I�m just not as invested in the show, since I started in so late. Or both.

PPDD is a term I whipped up in high school to explain the letdown that one feels after a production is over. I�m sure the feeling is similar to what one might feel after any major long-term project, and I�m sure it�s a precursor inkling of what retirement feels like. You invest yourself in something bigger than yourself for an extended period of time, and then, suddenly, it�s over. It�s certainly a shock to the system to some degree. Let�s face it-- change is bad.

Saturday also brought H and I our first of four �classes� on international adoption; what to expect from the process, what kind of problems you might face, travel advisements, etc. It�s hosted by a local children�s hospital, and is much more clinically motivated than I would have expected. I was ready for cheesy, touchy-feely stuff like one might expect from such things. The initial overview, however, was about bonding issues, potentials of short-term and long-term medical problems, processing inequities between countries and the like.

I was a very good boy during the meeting, too. It turned out that I was asking the most questions during the session, and all of them were good ones. H wasn�t sure if I was actually the same James she�s used to, as she expected me to be my reserved, analytical self and let others ask the questions for me. Not that the class was full of idiots, but there were just things I wanted to know about which no one else was asking.

To some degree, I think doing the play has helped me be a little more socially interactive than usual. I do tend toward the side of introvert. You know those drug commercials that ask you whether you have trouble socially interacting, get nervous about meeting people and such? I can relate to those feelings to a small degree at least. There�ve been times in my life where I had trouble making a phone call because I was thinking too much about what I was going to say to be able to speak coherently. I�m still not a major fan of the telephone (a fact to which my secretary/wife will attest), but I get things done that need to be done. Practise, practise, practise; it�s the key to getting over yourself and making conversation. Which is somewhat harder than it sounds, I assure you. I still - and always will, I reckon - suck at small talk.

Once again, I have discovered that I am big with the kids. First off, a couple of 8-year-olds asked for my autograph this weekend after the show. What little kid isn�t going to love the wacky green guy? Second, being in this show has definitely raised me up a few notches in Hil�s scorebook.

On Thursday, I went with her to her spring band concert (H and the boy had a Tiger Cub meeting already scheduled, mainly cos Hil didn�t remind us that the concert was happening until the day before). When she asked to get dropped off near the entrance, I asker her, �What, you don�t want to be seen with me?� Her response was, �That�s not it-- you�re awesome; all my friends like you. I just don�t want to carry my French horn through the snow.�

-- End Transmission --

p.s.

Jesus battles zombies at the US box office

Zombies kill Passion

Zombies Drive Jesus From Top Of Box Office

Zombies knock Jesus off top

Flesh feast tops Christ

Man, I love this country sometimes.