Thoughts from day 2 in a hopeless lack of order

The good thing about asking for directions in New York is that somehow, everyone in the city seems to know where everything and everywhere is. This, as you can imagine, is exceedingly useful. However. The bad thing about asking for directions in New York is that for some unknown reason, almost any set of directions you are given will contain one, and only one, massive falsehood. The problem is that there is absolutely no way of knowing whereabouts the duffer is, near the beginning, the final one, somewhere in the middle, your guess is as good as anyone's. But to clarify, there will only be one wrong turn, everything else will be almost frighteningly accurate.
So what can you do?
Nothing, is the answer. It's like the price you pay for the rest of the directions being so damn good. You just have to go on instinct, and hope to Jeebus that your brain serves you well. Its a bit like that bit in Beauty and the Beast, where Phillipe can clearly see that the road filled with sunlight, hope and daisies is the one him and pops need to shuffle down, but stupid old daddykins goes for the one where the trees have faced carved with evil and the flowers are actually made of WOLVES. just because the map tells him to. yeah. a bit like that.

Also, had completely forgotten that my name is pronounced wrong here. so very wrong. Natarsha. what the hell is that about? the worst part is, those who wish to be friendly call me Tarsh. as in almost rhyming with Gosh. Testing times indeed. It's kind of past the point where I can correct them too, seeing as I was just so shocked when it was first plunged out (makes no sense but I dont care). 'This is Tarsh.' Tarsh? crimety. Oh well. Too late to turn back now. Tarsh it is.

Just wanted to share a wee little gem I heard at my first production meeting today (though it was only with actors- this will become clear later on). God I hope they don't read this, cos they're really nice. Really really nice. And I'm going to be mean. Oh well. Basically one of them was fishing around desperately for the word that mean 'the guys who do the computer stuff in offices'. Now. In England we call them I.T men. I know this for several reasons, from doing 'I.T' at school to watching 'The I.T crowd' on channel 4. Its a wide spectrum, and I'm happy with it. But hey, what do I know? Letters like 'P', 'F' and even one crazy 'M' were being bandied about at an almost frightening speed, so I stayed well clear, hoping even to learn something about the technical world of the US. But finally, one girl said, tentitively 'wait.. is it I.T?'
They all sigh, lean back and smile.
The girl looks pretty happy- 'yeah... Internet... Technology'
They all nod solumly. God only knows who they call if there's a problem with mircosoft word or something.

And finally, the phone numbers here don't start with '0'. May not seem like a big thing, but I just don't feel prepared to enter the dialing house without a friendly '0' to greet you at the door. It feels a bit like trying to say a long sentence without taking an breath in first. If you know what I mean. 775-672-889... thats not a phone number. thats a health risk.

Bye for now- the films on American TV are brilliant and endless. Last night there was The Mask, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Sex and the City and Catch me if you Can. BBC? BBshit.