To Rioshix: S1/2 Quinn was a girl who tried to project what everyone expected. S3 Quinn is a girl who is trying to project everything nobody expected. Whatever mask she puts on, she's always crying underneath, and that's so sad to watch. I see that RIB have made her even more resentful and twisted. Interesting, really. I think Dianna looked fab all punked/skanked up (spanked? lol)... I'm quite saddened by the fact that we only got two pink hair eps. Boooo. Based on RIB's love of copying the actor's own lives, R and Q will presumably become friends (?) and, like Dianna of late, Quinn will start to find out more about who she really is (?). I hope! I would quite like to hang around with embittered, sexy Quinn.

To Cali: I couldn't remember when he popped up in real life! But yeah, why not. Hehe.


Role model of the day - Oprah Winfrey - "Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure."

"I can't even..." My mouth hangs open as I stare through the glass and into the live room beyond. Stupefied pretty much covers it.

"Oh, I know, I can't either," Chris replies without diverting his wide-eyed gaze. "I could eat this audible honey on my toast for breakfast." He sweeps an invisible jar through the air with his left hand and then twists the lid on with his right.

Together we continue to watch and listen to Amber belt out the song as if she were born for it. I hear a soft click as Darren pushes quietly through the door and sits down to my left. After a while of us all sitting here in awe of our friend, he leans in and whispers: "Wow. Just... wow. Humbled doesn't describe this feeling. She's extraordinary. I need to rub up against that talent more often."

"I know!" I yelp back enthusiastically, squeezing the closest knee of each boy sitting either side of me. "Right now who wants to date Amber?" I ask with a laugh. All our hands fly up. Both of them in the case of Chris. We're so lame. I love it. One of the sound guys turns and gives me a look that says: 'Shut up, crazy lady'. Oops. I quieten down as Amber prepares for her third take of the song. It's not like she can hear me. The sight of me bouncing off the sound-proof walls is probably distracting enough. Chris takes my hand. We have our very own personal Riley performance here. Amber gives me one of her megawatt smiles and I'm reminded of how lucky I am to be in this amazing position. If I weren't me right now, I'd want to jump into this life. Unbelievably special.

Chris turns to me suddenly. "Did you know Dianna was all excited because she thought Darren, you and I would be recording a Thom Yorke cover?"

"Oh crap, really?" I wince. "Same title?"

He nods. "You can't really get more dissimilar than Thom Yorke and Stephen Schwartz. You should have seen the look on her face when I broke the news." He cringes at the memory and combs his fingers through his coiffed hair.

I can't help but visualize Dianna's dejected pout, and an impression of it emerges on my own lips. "Well, we'll just have to cheer her up, won't we?" Fumbling around in my purse, I drag out my iPod and creep over to the control room's sound workstation. I smile apologetically at David. "Uhm. When you've got a rough track, would you mind..."

"Do I ever say no, Lea?" he asks, looking at me like a strict teacher who's just received his fourteenth polished apple of the day; he's glad, but in a 'we've been here a million times before and you don't have to ask' kind of way.

"Thanks." I chuckle as I semi-skip back to the bench-like couch and scooch between my boys. "Dianna will love it. I want to give her a sneak preview." I find myself staring at the floor, a little lost in my own thoughts. "Gotta keep that smile on her lips," I say, floating off into my thoughts. I might take it upon myself to give her a good 'ol tickle later. I'll be seeing a lot of her today, so it's my job to make her happy. This week is pretty much all Rachel scenes (as if I couldn't get any busier) but it's also the major stand-alone love story set within the series. Like 'Inception' - we're going deeper, baby! It's a dream to play (hint hint). We all get to dress up and act our own ages. I'll give you a clue: think Boardwalk Empire. A whole other Rachel is going to fall in love with a whole other Quinn, and it's going to be the most beautiful thing ever. The word 'amazing' drops quietly out of my mouth. I blink and look around to find Chris staring at me curiously. He sighs and uses his free hand to push strands of hair out of my eyes as I tap my knee to the beat of the song. "What?" I frown and smile all at once.

"Nothing," he says, but I can see a strange sort of sadness in his eyes, like someone's dropped a stone in those gentle, blue waters. Plop. Clearly, he wants to say something but is holding back.

"Chris?" I prod him in the thigh and make him squirm.

"Nothing!" He insists with a snicker.

Damn, I hate it when he does that! I'm all paranoid now. "Hate you." I pout at him like a child.

He pats me roughly on the head. "Hate you too." He smiles. "With all my heart."

%#%#%


Song of the day: Amber Riley - Set Fire to the Rain - "Sometimes I wake up by the door. That heart you caught must be waiting for you. Even now when we're already over, I can't help myself from looking for you."

A flash forward and a flashback all at once. The characters have grown up and gone back in time. Yeah, I know, but you know Glee, right? It doesn't have to make sense! I stand beside the doorway to the mock up of a 1930s little girl's room, tucked away and just out of sight. A soft, night-time glow lights the set. Hints of the era are scattered around: a vintage comforter swathes Beth's bed; a chalkboard is propped up against the wall; a worn doll's house and rocking horse sit by the fireplace; and a weird stuffed peacock toy-thing stands up on a bookshelf stacked with animal-shaped china. By the bedside, Dianna is sitting primly in her patterned print dress and buckled shoes. Her hair is gently curled and glossed. Red lipstick. A wedding ring on her finger. She looks like a mother to that child. No doubt. Even despite the fact that Beth has mousey brown hair.

Off to one side, cameras line up on their tracks, ready to pan over the scene of Quinn with her daughter. Dianna looks down upon the girl with joy and devotion. "Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Baker's Man," she whispers as they play a clapping game. "That I will, Master, as fast as I can; prick it and prick it, and mark it with an H, and there will be enough for Hailey and me." Dianna bites her bottom lip with happiness as she sees the delight in the little girl's gleaming eyes. Aww. She's keeping her entertained while they prepare the scene. I wonder if Hailey, who I think is about six, will remember this when she grows up. How long will it be before she can even watch herself on Glee?

There's something about being on television from a young age that affects you psychologically. You experience that weird situation when you can be just, like, doing your schoolwork curled up on the couch and you hear your own voice. Okay, maybe it's just a commercial voice-over saying: 'Only $9.99! Each sold separately', but it's an ego bouncer all right. For a second it makes you laugh, then it makes you proud, then lucky, then... a little weird. Your heart rushes with excitement and suddenly you're not thinking about your civil war studies or that assignment due, you just want to dream about who you might become and what you might get to do. After all, you're already on television. Already on stage. Already kinda known to a few of the right people. But only if you want it enough... I wanted it enough.

Dianna has begun the tucking-in process. And... ready, set, action. This is gonna be quite a lengthy scene. I listen intently. I think they've told Dianna just to wing it as I don't remember all these lines from the script. She speaks of Noah Puckerman who, in Rachel's bumped-on-the-head dream world (so much for not giving away the plot) is married to Quinn and owns a popular drinking joint and night spot. Typical Puck during prohibition! Anyway, Dianna goes on to talk of ambition and her desire to succeed. She spins some thinly-veiled story about how she wishes she could have given Beth a better life, her regrets about the past, and about how Noah, although a good man, never pushed her to higher places. But she would push Beth. She promises that. Everything is gonna be all right. The scene is very natural. Dianna makes a wonderful mom.

I hope they keep in every line. It's an extended episode, after all; surely they've room for this beautiful yet slightly tragic scene in full. Snuggling down, Beth requests that Quinn sing her a song to help her sleep. No Glee without music! With soft sigh and a pleased smile, Dianna draws up her ribcage and sucks her lips into her mouth to lightly moisten them. "Of course, sweetheart," she says, patiently waiting for the pre-recorded music to begin playing so she can sing along or mine or whatever she wants. Hush. Hush. I haven't heard it yet. Wait. It will be a nice surprise. The crew count her in as there's no backing to this track. No instrumental. 100% Dianna Agron. No added sweeteners or preservatives. 3. 2. 1. Her eyelashes flutter. "I was a little girl alone in my little world, who dreamed of a little home for me," she sings brightly as she strokes hair from the child's forehead. "I played pretend between the trees, and fed my house guests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green." I dip my head and smirk as I visualize baby Dianna doing just that.

I rub my nose with my index finger and tilt my ear toward the sound of Dianna's effortless voice as she drives through the chorus. The energy she forces into the word 'fly' makes my line of sight dart back up. Her voice cracks a touch. A breath stops short in my throat as I watch the words fall from her shapely mouth. Oh! I feel like I've suddenly got the flu or something. My smile has dropped. My head feels heavy and feverish. My lips are dry and my stomach feels like it's full of boiling water and lumps of ice. My chest swells and suddenly this belt around my waist feels impossibly tight.

I'm so proud of her. My internal trauma is soothed by her soft, breathy voice. I'm completely in this world now; happily dragged back eighty years to this time of the American depression. I place a lingering kiss on my own fingertips for no reason other than it feels nice. Now simmering down, I'm calmed by the 'oohs' that Dianna breathes melodically before beginning the last, and most poignant, verse.

The adorable little girl has fallen asleep, possibly even for real. So cute. Dianna rises from her chair and dims each of the lights. I watch her. Entranced by her beauty and grace. In awe. In love. Of course I'm a little bit in love with her. Who isn't? I blink rapidly and let out a long breath. Have I even been breathing this past minute? She walks toward the doorway beside where I'm standing, her singing descending to a whisper. Finally, she finishes on: "I had a dream." My cue for action. I flip around so that my back is flat against the wall and hide in the shadows so as not to be noticed. I frown and squeeze shut my eyes as the camera closes in on me. My throat is tight. My jaw is tense. Happy tears bubble up in my stinging eyes. There's a stubborn laugh somewhere in my lungs that needs to come out; it feels like a halfway-happened hiccup. Jeez, I describe everything like a child, don't I?

I feel confused. I feel wonderful. I kinda didn't do any acting in this scene. I really didn't. That's odd. I really forgot to do that. But it was so lovely. And... I watch Dianna disappear out of sight.

"Cut."

%#%#%


Movie of the day: Almost Famous - Dennis Hope - "I didn't invent the rainy day, man. I just own the best umbrella."

"Okay, girls, we're gonna split this into two segments." Joss shows us the script and quickly marks it out with a Sharpie. "Finish up there -" he underlines madly "- and we'll check it's all good before moving on so we don't have to come back to it later." He squints like a pirate as he scribbles on the page even more. "Okay, so we'll roll through this part, then do a couple do-overs for safety. Maybe you can give it a different slant each time, right?" We nod in unison as he waggles the pen in the air. "Uhm, I'm gonna go check with tech that the rain machines are ready. You want it ice cold or shall we go for the full freezer burn?" We both gawp at him. He laughs and tugs on his earring. "Kidding. It'll be like a nice, warm shower." His eyes scan down the page rapidly. "Now, uhm, for the kiss... my advice is to each pretend you're screwing in a light bulb with your lips." He chuckles but I'm taking him seriously because I think, joking aside, he's giving serious direction. "I don't mean literally. It's more... neither of you know quite how hard to push. You're both fragile. Transparent to each other for the first time. Your characters are both dismally unhappy in your marriages because you've had each other at the back of your minds for aeons. There's a lot of pain that comes with that. Trepidation. Fear. So it's got to be tender but firm, and maybe with a little undercurrent of resentment."

I nod enthusiastically. "Sure, that sounds incredible," I say.

Dianna swallows and nods silently. "Incredible," she echoes under her breath, looking a little in awe of our lovely director.

Joss is called away and we've got a moment to ourselves. I take Dianna by the hand and drag her over to our named chairs. I sit in hers; she sits in mine. Aren't we silly? Pulling out my iPod from a bag, I throw one of the ear buds her way and demand she plant it in her ear. "I guarantee you will love this." It's not being filmed at the same time, but Amber's solo - which she will perform later to a busy audience on the stage of the bar set - is being intercut with and played over our kiss, so it seems right that we should know what the audience will be hearing over the scene. Talk about lyrically appropriate!

Heads almost knocking at the temples, we listen and enjoy the song. "She's extraordinary," Dianna says looking super happy. She uses the heel of one of her low-heeled two-tone brogue pumps to gently bump my left high-heeled (leveling that height playing field a touch!) blue shoe. I reach over and tickle my way across her stomach (I said I would, didn't I?) Curling over to trap my arm around her waist, she giggles girlishly and her perfect teeth shine.

Still grinning, she bites the end of her tongue to stop herself laughing, and wrinkles her nose cutely. I reluctantly pull my arm back and she makes a little kitty pawing motion at me. She probably made a noise with the action, but I've got Amber in one ear and the crew dragging equipment about in the other. My stockinged knee touches hers and we both go still. Her steady gaze is off in the distance and she's nervously playing with her hands in that way she always does when she's distracted by thought.

"Your hair is so pretty like that," I say as the song ends.

"Oh, yours rivals mine completely." She looks me over as I sit up and do a little pose and pout. "Gorgeous. But thank you for the compliment. I do love this." She points at her own head. "I'm actually really loving this whole set. And a story we can really sink our teeth into!" She sweeps her hands over her lap and her skirt ripples under the touch. "You know how I love playing dress up," she says under her breath. Don't we all! "And it's so nice playing someone a touch more grown up."

"Totally," I agree chirpily. "Though I wouldn't exactly say I'm getting to be mature. Maybe I'll give that a go in the final scenes after, y'know..."

"Yeah -" she looks down "- of course, it will be wonderful. It's -" a sigh makes her body sag "- I don't know, the plot just has that movie-like structure and moody tonality to it. I think it's going to be remarkable. Might even be a little hard-hitting. Turn a few heads. Change a few opinions? Our character relationship isn't to everyone's favor, and that's a shame."

"Definitely." A seriousness takes me over as I wrap the cord around the iPod. "I'm really glad that I get to do this with you. Honestly I am. The whole story. Everything. I love working with you."

Her hand flies to her chest and she stumbles over her response, which finally comes out as: "Thank you!"

That startled response makes me think I don't tell her enough. Got to remember that. She's called away by Joss for some last minute suggestions so I give my reply to the empty chair: "My pleasure."

%#%#%

Rain cascades over my blinking eyelashes and down my cheeks. I'm slowly finding my sight, but I can already feel that Dianna is just a breath away. Shapes emerge. Her clothes are soaked and cling to her svelte yet clutchable body. Water collects and falls from the bottom lip of her partly open mouth. She's still breathing heavily after having chased me down this darkened alley.

A dim but warmly-colored streetlamp lights our... what did Dianna call it when I asked her earlier? Um... tryst. That's it! Y'know, I can't tell the tears from the rain. Am I crying? I... I am! Not actual tears at the moment, but crying with want for... that body? For this woman standing in front of me? My chest sinks down as I exhale more air than I actually have available in my lungs. My insides scream a little. With panic, I breathe in deeply and the sparkling, wet vapor almost chokes me. The falling water is warm, but I'm shivering. Majorly shivering. Shuddering. Dianna lifts my hand and, using the barest touch of one fingertip, she traces a clean line down my forearm to my elbow. It tingles and my heart and head start to pound that bit harder. Before I'm ready, she snatches hold of my upper arm. Despite the tight grip, I can feel that she's shaking too. I'm just gonna let this scene happen, absorb myself in the moment. It's the best thing to do. No over-analysis of technique. I'll just let go.

Through the pelting droplets, I can see her eyes; they look at me with undeniable love and lust; with wants, cravings, dreams and desires. She wants to gobble me up. I want to let her. Glancing over her lithe body, I notice how her wet collar bones glisten as water slides down the unbuttoned neck of her blouse. Below, the shape of her bra is just visible, and it makes me want to reach forward to grab at places that I really shouldn't. Earlier she looked soft and quietly inviting; now she looks like the very definition of hot and sexy. I'm still trying to let go.

Her expression changes as she suddenly sobs: "It's always been you." A door slams inside my chest. She sniffs and her chin quivers. She releases me and looks away, trying to wipe the rain and her visible emotion away with the back of her hand. I'm close to hyperventilating and am nowhere near prepared enough when she grasps my side. Nice little action there, Lady D. Do you use that on all the ladies? Palm hard against my ribs, her fingers begin to massage my taut muscles. Dress, what dress? No curve unclear. A tattoo of clothing. I might as well be naked.

This type of feeling, of pre-performance hesitation and excitement, is driving me crazy. Turmoil. Frenzy. Something. Someone throw me a dictionary because I just don't know the words to describe this. I don't want to hold back any longer. I'm fully-charged and ready. No time for nerves. No time to worry about her opinion of my kissing skills. No time for all these thoughts I'm having right now! This girl wants that girl. Simple as 1 + 2 = 3. I've done it before. No big deal. From what I've heard, it's pretty natural to want to kiss Dianna this much. Normal! Regular! So get to it, Lea. It's time. Stop with the stumbling.

Rising up on tip toes, I grab her by the cheeks and yank her mouth to mine. I feel powerful yet weak, like my body is barely managing to keep my blood pumping at the required rate. Within seconds, her hands have pushed around my waist and tease at my lower back. She hitches up the fabric of my dress and causes my newly exposed thighs to become doused by the rain that drips from the hem. Her lips glide smoothly against mine. Burning. I'm absolutely burning inside. That heat. That pressure. This sweetness. I let my fingers slip down her neck and then over her shoulders. I tug roughly, demanding more from her.

With a sudden thrusting hug, she forces her wet stomach against mine. Water pools where our chests meet and runs down our sides. We breathe in sync, pausing now and then for air. It's like swimming through rough waters. Invigorating. Enlivening. A battle of wills. She tastes so darned good: a little mint; a little lemon candy; a little Dianna. I can't help but push for more.

Rain. Rain. A roaring waterfall. A constant wash of cascading sound fills my ears, periodically pierced with her moans, my throaty groans, and the rub of fabric as we form an even tighter hold. Instinctively, my tongue lightly seeks hers. I can't help it! Her body tenses against me. Hope she didn't think that was weird. I need to stop doing that. I'm not fourteen anymore. This isn't quite like when I've kissed other girls... or boys, really. I know that sounds stupid, but I guess this is also a scene that doesn't happen in real life. So give me a break, yeah? I know what it's like to be madly in love, but this? This is different. Is it really possible to have this strength of emotion blossom over a simple kiss? No wonder television gives us an unfair expectation of love. This scene is designed to imply that these characters would die for one another. Maybe it's like this for everyone and I've just never fully let go before. One foot always on dry land. What's different this time? What changed? How do people make this happen? Why do I ask myself so many questions?

She tilts her head and suddenly I'm being paced backwards. Whoa. Tangoed up to the wall. God, this is so gonna get cut if she's not careful. What have her and Joss worked out? The fake bricks are no less real when you're hard up against them. No escape. I guess this is a very Quinn thing to do, not so much Dianna. I think. Maybe. No? Maybe. Her hands glide everywhere: my cheeks, my arms, my damp hair, my sides, but her lips never leave mine. She narrowly escapes my breasts and keeps us just afloat above PG-13. These characters should know what they want. Older. Wiser. Sexually experienced. Aware of what makes them tick. Is Rachel quite there yet? Does she really understand what her heart needs? I want Rachel to want Quinn. I want her to want her bad. It feels right.

Has the scene reached a classification of 'controversial' yet? Dianna grabs hard at my hips. Maybe now! There's no way they'll show this as a full shot! My goodness. I bet she doesn't even realize that her thumbs are digging tantalizingly at the elastic of my underwear. Who knew Dianna had it in her? I mean Quinn. Sorry. My head is slightly tipped back and the rain batting at my eyelids keeps them closed. I could sleep like this. Sleep in the comfort of this kiss. Wait. God! She's turning tables on me. Her tongue is pushing against mine. I'm forced to take a sharp breath because I feel like someone's forced a skewer through my navel. Holy shit. I'm not so smart the other way round, am I? I mean Rachel. Sorry. Oh, f... whatever. I don't care. I'm at her mercy. Amazing. If it weren't for the studio lights, crew, and Joss freaking Whedon staring at us, this would be... I don't know! What would it be? I gasp into her mouth again. What the hell would it be? I frown and struggle for a clear answer. I know. I know. Right? Sex. This would definitely lead to sex. Real sex. With thighs and hands and skin on skin. Of course, it wouldn't actually turn into sex because we wouldn't be kissing in the first place. Oh Jesus. I'm aching all over. Sick, dying, overwhelmed, drowning. Whatever it is, I feel a lot of it.

She pulls back. Sadness and frustration churn in my stomach. The crew turn down the rain to a light drizzle. I'm standing here vulnerable and breathing like I've run to the edge of the city and back. Feeling small. Dianna's heaven-sent eyes are glimmering; they seem to say so much, but I don't understand a word. I feel so dumb. What does it all mean? I should know her looks by now. "I love you," she splutters. Oh, that... I forgot. She's so alive as Quinn wanting Rachel. I love this fiery girl. She's a bomb just waiting to go off. Electrifying. Sometimes I wish I were a bit more like Rachel so that Dianna would like me better, y'know? In that up-against-the-wall way. Wait. What? Am I really thinking that? Am I insane? I mean she is amazing, there's no denying that, but I need to step away. Shut up. Shut up. Ugh. I could hit myself. Where's an Italian grandmother with a good throwing arm when you need one? This internal conversation is getting old.

Scripted words stop in my throat. I have to force them out. With a nod and a twitch of my cheek, I reply with... what's the word? Dianna would know. Aplomb? Sounds wrong. "I know." It's not Rachel's fault she sounds obnoxious. The writers seem to have a phobia of letting Rachel confess that she loves Quinn. Dianna beams at me and I feel like I've just discovered I have the ability to fly. I'm all enraptured and caught up in this golden moment. How is she still looking radiant? I probably look like a stiff corpse that's been dragged out of a lake.

I miss the feel of her already. Shamefully, I'm ready for more. I want her close and so grab her hands to bring them to my chest (my actual chest, not my boobs; this isn't SA, though right now a niggling curiosity makes me wish it were). I feel like I've got cotton candy lining my entire throat. "I'm taking your advice; I'm going to New York," I blurt clumsily. She looks down and rolls her fingertips over my knuckles. Even that touch makes extraordinary sensations build inside me once again. I've never been quite affected like this before. It's new. Strong. Everything seems to be pushing me into looking at Dianna in this sexual way, but that can't happen. I'm not naïve; I know that this is a real bodily response to a real touch. I also know that I can't lose her as a friend. Please don't ever take her away from me. "Come with me?" I whisper uncertainly. Tears form in my eyes again as Rachel waits for her answer. If I mess up our friendship, I'll hate myself forever.

"I thought you'd never ask." She grins.

Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. All these unadulterated dramatics have turned me into a goofball. Too wrapped up. Too taken over by some silly love story and a pretty face. Oh, the scene has ended. When did that happen? She's left me. The rain has stopped entirely and Telly is wrapping me in a large towel. Dianna has gone to the playback monitors and watches with a perplexed expression. Is she not happy? She catches me looking at her. I'll act like normal, y'know, grin widely, rub at my arms and make a 'brrr' noise through my lips. What a dork!

Are we doing a second take? I want the warm rainfall back. I think... I think I do. Do I? Should I feel bad about that? Priorities. "You want hot tea and lemon, Dianna?" I call out, noticing someone bringing drinks around. I don't want her to catch a chill. She gives me a broad smile and a thumbs up. I'm happy again. Looking after my friend, that's what is important here. That's something I can rely on.