Yesterday was QUITE a day. All of our "Very Special Guest Stars" came into town to prepare for tonight's concert.

Leslie Caron is divine. And she gave us vocal coaching on how the song "Gigi" (from the movie of the same name) ought to be sung. To paraphrase her: "I know the rhythm was written the way you are singing it, but it REALLY goes like this . . ."

Cute "behind-the-scenes" story: We were rehearsing at the John Sims Center for the Arts, near the Van Ness Salvation Army store. John Sims was the founder of the Gay Men's Chorus, and the studios are a fabulous haven for the queer and queer-friendly arts. The walls these days are covered with . . . um . . . rather explicit paintings of men and their exposed genitals in all sorts of interesting positions and situations. There was some concern that Ms. Caron - who was raised in a French convent - might be a little taken aback. So . . . don't tell anyone! . . . the paintings were discretely and carefully removed for the few hours that Ms. Caron was "in the house."

I got to catch up with my buddy Davis Gaines, who I sang with last year in Connecticut Yankee. He rocks so hard.

And I'm totally in love with Annie Morrison. She was the original "Mary" in Sondheim's "Merrily We Roll Along." That show holds a unique place, not only in musical theater history, but in my personal history as well . . . a good chunk of my first date with my husband was spend discussing that particular show and it's quirks.

At a bar after rehearsal, Annie said, "I don't drink. I don't need to any more. I can just match the vibration of all the people around me who are drinking, have fun, and still drive home!!" This, of course, totally tripped me out because - as some of you know - this is exactly what I say about why I don't drink. I never imagined someone else in the world had discovered this trick!!

Andrea Marcovicci will also be singing with us tonight. I only saw her briefly yesterday, and she looked fabulous.

Well folks . . . I'm off for the theater. Think good thoughts . . . it's SHOWTIME!!

OK, so I was sitting at my desk yesterday, thinking, "Damn, I need some time to just catch up on my filing!" 'Cause I got this promotion and I'll be moving to a new desk and I want to leave things in good shape . . . (more about the promotion later) . . .

So this morning I get in to work, log on to the system . . . and find that we have been struck by a nationwide virus. We were instructed to shut down our computers until further notice. No resolution in sight . . .

So I have no choice but to file paper all day. Just like I wished for.

Be afraid of me. Be very afraid.

It's really odd . . . I'm having a great time with life right now. But I'm feeling really different the last few weeks. I think I feel something like a caterpillar in a cocoon. And I have no clue what kind of butterfly I'm going to turn out to be.

Things that usually turn me on are leaving me cold. Performing, for example. Usually I LIVE for it when I'm doing it. I certainly still enjoy it. But it doesn't feel like the brightest star in my universe these days. Other things are bringing me far more pleasure. Like reading comic books. Looking forward to the new Harry Potter. Hangin' with my husband during his free summer hours. Sitting still for hours, listening to the secrets my body has to tell me about my life and the universe. I've been doing that a lot lately.

I'm on a virtual TV fast. My TiVo told me the other day that it feels so neglected, it thinks maybe we should try relationship therapy. It helps that everything's in re-runs, but even aside from that . . . I just don't feel the desire.

And I haven't had much desire to write, either.

I'm reading blogs like crazy . . . with my handheld, I feel more connected to people in cyberspace than I have for months. But it's like I'm reading while kickin' it in an easy chair, all blissed out. All my comments get reduced to a simple, almost non-verbal, "Yeah . . . yeah."

I know that a lack of interest in usually enjoyable activities can be a sign of depression, but I'm really experiencing the opposite . . . a kind of anti-depression, a euphoria.

I used to have to work for this feeling. Now it's just . . . there. Instead of having to chase it, I find it stalking me . . . clinging to me . . . enveloping me.

I like it.

Stay tuned to see what color my wings turn out to be . . .

I saw two yellow butterflies yesterday, swirling around, bumping into each other . . . trying to mate, right over the intersection of Stockton and Battery.

They were oblivious to the traffic and the noise and the garbage cans and the overly-serious suits and suit-ettes trudging distractedly toward their business lunches.

And I thought to myself . . . (Louis Armstrong voice) . . . what a wonderful world . . .

So, I definitely recommend that everyone see Finding Nemo. It's visually beautiful . . . I expected nothing less after Jessica's raves . . . but what most impressed me and drew me in was the excellent vocal character work by a bunch of great actors.

Ellen DeGeneres was the one who really blew me away. Her perfomance as Dory - an upbeat, likable blue fish who is hyperactive, mentally disabled, and probably ADD as well - is both gut-bustingly funny and incredibly touching. Props to Ms. DeG for doing her homework and being real . . . Dory's combination of courage and insecurity, her bright worldview and the terrible fear underneath, will probably be familiar to anyone who has been close to a differently-abled person.

Oh, and I never expected to hear Allison Janney as the voice of a starfish named Peach who lives on the side of an aquarium. Priceless.

"Is that the internet in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Surreal moments in a wireless internet life . . .

* Reading blogs . . . on the toilet . . . in a public restroom . . .

* Looking up movie times on Fandango . . . without even getting out of bed . . .

* The gloriously liberating realization that I will never be lost again . . . I have Yahoo Maps and Mapquest watching over me at all times. (This is an incredible boon for someone like myself, tragically born without a sense of direction.) I also never again have to say - as I'm running out the door, already late - "Oh, shit! I forgot to print out the directions!"

* Being able to type this entry during a terribly boring auction fundraiser for an extremely worthy arts organization.

You know, another reason I think I really love blogging is the ability to ironically distance myself from otherwise banal realities. No matter how pointless, rediculous, disconcerting or insignificant an event, as soon as I think, "Oh, I MUST blog about this," it becomes . . . art. Instead of letting the experience inflict itself upon me, I get to inflict myself upon the experience .

Having the internet in my pocket takes this perspective to an entirely new level. It's not just a mental excercise any more . . . I can actually, physically blog IN THE MOMENT.

That's power.

Having the internet in your pocket means never having to say, "I'm bored!"

I going through one of those . . . phases . . .

"Hello, WT . . ."
"Yes, who is it?"
"It's your True Self."
"Oh, hi. Wassup?"
"Just wanted to let you know . . . I've been meaning to tell you something for a while, and I didn't know how to say it politely."
"Come on. We've known each other a long time. Just spill it."
"You're kind of a control freak sometimes."
"Oh."
I know that's hard to hear, especially coming from me. But I'm just saying . . . loosen up a little.

There are parts of my life where I often feel "out of control." No matter how much I make, I never feel in control of money. It always seems to be running away from me at a disasterous pace.

I feel like my appearance is not within my control. The shape of my body, the eccentricity of my face, the recurring acne. Most of the time I act like I don't care. But I do.

Other people intrude on my life. At work. On the street. On the news. They waylay me from that path I want to travel. They distract me from my purpose and they drain my resources. And I can't seem nto control them. (Though I have been known to try.)

That's why I think I like having this blog so much. It is entirely within my control. Nothing happens here that I don't want to happen. The people that comment here are people that I want to hear from. And on the off chance that someone unwanted should intrude here, I have the power to delete them from this corner of the universe as if they never existed.

There are other parts of my life where I feel "in control," too.

And yet . . . this whole dichotomy . . . in control / out of control . . . it's an illusion, really, isn't it?

*****

How did I get so detached from my own emotions? That's what I want to know. I want to be closer to them, because they are such great teachers.

Emotions are never in control. And they are never out of control. They have their own wisdom . . . a wisdom you may not understand, but an effective wisdom at that.

Each emotion has a purpose, a destination. Any concept we might have of being "in control" of our emotions is an illusion. We have a very small amount of authority over what path the raw energy of the emotion takes. Do we punch someone, or burst out in tears on the street, or scream, or laugh, or reach out and caress? We have some control over these things.

I read somewhere that people with Tourette's Syndrome have a certain measure of control over their involuntary outbursts and behavioral tics. In some circumstances, they can suppress them. But at the cost of a great amount of physical and psychological pain (migraines, anxiety attacks, etc.)

And I ask . . . how are any of us any different?

OK, I am totally going to cry from the sheer beauty of it all. I am typing this as I walk down Spear St. in downtown SF. (Just crossed Mission.)

I am typing on my new Handspring Treo PDA / phone - with wireless internet. (Approching Market St.)

The future is now, and my life is complete.

I am now going to beam this off into the ether before I go down into the BART station.

God bless Handspring, Movable Type, and Sprint PCS. God bless them, every one.

(Added later: So, still a few glitches. I can write and post to MT from anywhere in the world - well, I mean, anywhere on the Sprint PCS network - but somehow the poor little PDA can't give MT the proper input to actually rebuild the site so that all you fabulous peeps can read what I blog remotely. It took me two days to figure this out. Oh, well . . . I'm sure there's a fix. It's still pretty awesome.)