Diary
Monday
At 6:39 a.m. L wakes up. I only know the exact time because I’ve been conditioned to track her sleep down to the second via an app. We’re trying to be militant about her sleep training or else we’re in for a night of hell. I try to sleep while she nurses and has playtime in the little pillow fort we made for her.
I fully wake up at 7:47 a.m., and from then until 9:00 a.m., I get ready for the first day of rehearsal in the performance space and catch up on emails and to-dos from last night. It’s tech week for my play—which is the first of mine to be fully staged—produced by me, V, and a coven of brilliant producers and theatre companies. For context, the play is directed and starring V, which has become an extraordinarily beautiful learning experience for both of us as we navigate being artistic conspirators and co-parents every time, everywhere, all at once. The play itself is inspired by him and by our journey through the immigration system—written as a love letter for him and all of the immigrant artists and humans in my life.
I schedule a call with a community organizer, print flyers to promote the ICE Watch workshop that we’re planning, and read through last night’s rehearsal report. We still need to find a set piece. Ah, the joys of self-producing. I also prep for a staff meeting for my community engagement job. Mondays are already very busy, and today I’m mom, wife, arts administrator, playwright, and producer.
I have a mini sob because I’m overwhelmed trying to make sure we have props, all of L’s things, and get to the space in time for me to clock in for work. V makes me a matcha to try and calm me down, and we go through the to-do list together. Half an hour later, I hop on a quick call with the play’s fiscal sponsor and co-producer to coordinate payments for actors.
We drive to the space at 10:00. I run lines with V while L sleeps in the car. We purchased a car on a whim during the pandemic, and as much as we complain about traffic, having a car as producers has been pretty cost-effective and helps us get to rehearsal faster than the subway or bus. Once we get to the space, I hand off L to V and the cast as our line producer and I canvass neighborhood restaurants with our flyers.
11:30 a.m. is snack time for L. She’s downing a pouch of chicken and sweet potato puree (thank god!) as we do a walkthrough of space with the team. Then, I watch the transition rehearsal and respond to work emails.
We’re lucky that a caregiver grant came through for this week, and we have $1,000 to pay for babysitters. Our babysitter arrives at 2:00, and I hand L over to her. They head to the playspace/cafe.
I find a corner in the lobby to take the staff meeting. Later, I get pinged for grant edits for my own theatre company, so I spend about forty-five minutes reworking a budget and narrative for our fiscal sponsor’s approval. I then log back into my work email and connect with potential community partners for an art installation that will be exhibited in three locations across two boroughs.
At 4:30, I watch our first run of the show in the space. L is back and sitting nicely in the audience by 6:00, enjoying seeing her dad play with her adult friends.
From 7:00 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. we have a designer and production meeting. There’s a mountain of work to be done by Friday, but morale is high. Afterward, we head home, and V puts L to sleep while I find parking.
V and I scarf down sandwiches and talk through the rehearsal until half past midnight. I answer work and production emails and prepare notes for tomorrow. I find a table that might work on Facebook Marketplace and coordinate a pickup time for tomorrow.
Tuesday
6:50 a.m.: L wakes up to have her breakfast: my boobs.
By 7:30 a.m. we’re up up up for the day. While she has playtime, I check ticket sales and am very relieved that tickets are moving. It looks like we’re going to have a sold-out house for the first two performances; the middle shows are more worrisome, but there will be at least twenty audience members.
I text with our producing team to give notes on some graphics and schedule some interviews with press for the cast and creative team. Because a majority of our creative team are international, it’s imperative that we get press to support their work and also provide proof for their visas. A huge motivator for doing this show, for me, has been to hold space and create work opportunities for international and immigrant artists. Unfortunately, the industry is still very behind on supporting immigrant and international artists.
