Act: 4 Scene: Birthday

7:00 a.m.- "You say it's your birthday. Well it's my birthday too, yeah. You say it's your birthday. And we are gonna have a good time." The Beatles play zealously over the drops of the shower. Thoughts of cake, candles and balloons come floating to mind.

7:15 a.m.- A tire blows out on the way to work.

10:30 a.m.- Three co-workers sing the birthday song as they gather in the conference room for cake. There are no candles. The card reads "Happy Birthday Today." The inside says something about getting old. The awkward stiffness of forced interaction is drowned out by the "Is this it" by The Strokes. The lament of Singer Julian Casablancas is broken by the tired drumming.

4:30 p.m.- The copier fails to print. "Promises" by The Morning Benders cascades into the scene. The restlessness of the song collects the dullness of the day. Quitting time seems equally hopeless.

5:30 p.m.- The grocery store is crowded with young moms buying diapers, teenagers debating energy drinks and employees stacking tin-cans. The wailing lyrics of "We used to Vacation" by Cold War Kids plays as a bottle of wine, microwave dinner, and cat food is purchased. "Still things could be much worse. Natural disasters on the Evening news. We've still got our health. My paycheck in the mail," lead singer Nathan Willett cries over piano keys.

6:00 p.m.- The door to the house is surprisingly unlocked. Before the groceries can be set on the table, the lights spark on and friends and family belt "Surprise!" The energetic and bold "Trashcan" by Delta Spirit blasts out of the speakers as friends dance and laugh together. Vocalist Matthew Vasquez, screams "Brother hold the line till we got something, this world is way too small to feel like nothing."

Act 3: Scene: Donate Blood

12:30 p.m.- The doors open with automatic ease as "Your Protector" by Fleet Foxes pours into the scene. The robust harmonies synchronize with the rhythm of footsteps down the corridor. A boy in a wheel chair rolls past.

12:35 p.m.- "Blood Bank" is written in black across the top of the door. The waiting room is lined with padded chairs. Three men sit in a row under a painting of a ship. "Deep Blue Sea" by Grizzly Bear ripples in as medical history is filled out. The reverb guitar plays softly as a flourescent light burns out.

12:45 p.m.- The nurse walks ahead with a yellow clipboard in her hand. "We haven't had many donors this week," she quietly announces. The calm and striking violin of "Cold Summer" by Seabear plays while the nurse sits and pulls antiseptic out of a drawer.

12:50 p.m.- A thin needle punctures the cubital vein. The sting of the needle is surprisingly sharp. Droplets of blood fill a plastic bag next to the bed. Like tiny red rubies, the drops glisten as they fall. The heavy piano of "Tornado" by Jonsi begins as the nurse offers a compassionate smile.

1:30 p.m.- The blood is labeled "AB-" and stored in a clear plastic beaker. The chilling and hopeful "Timshel" by Mumford and Sons streams in. A yellow band-aid is placed over the punctured wound. Marcus Mumford's strong and soothing voice sings, "death is at your doorstep. And it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance. But you are not alone in this. And you are not alone in this..."

Act 2: Scene: First Day of School

8:00 a.m.- "Across the Universe" by the Beatles plays as the clanging of the school bell brings a rush of students into the classroom. Cell phones are turned to silent as the Economics teacher walks slowly to the podium. She explains the first day of school is no excuse for tardiness.

10:00 a.m- The walk through the crowded hallway is met with blank stares. Radiohead's "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi" plays as the locker refuses to open. Thom Yorke’s haunting vocals ask,"Why should I stay here? Why should I stay?”

12:30 p.m.- The linoleum floor of the lunchroom looks newly polished as the somber guitar of “All My Friends” by Broken Social Scene streams in. The pews of lunch tables feel abandoned.

2:00 p.m.- The entrance of the Ceramic’s classroom is blocked by gray vases and brown candlesticks. There is an empty seat next to a girl with a yellow ribbon. The bluesy and hopeful “Hang On” by Dr. Dog plays as sunlight flows in from the window.

2:45 p.m.- The lump of clay begins to look like an over sized cereal bowl. The girl smiles as she comments on the hapless creativity. Hot Chip’s slow and seething “Brothers” plays over the laughter.

3:10 p.m- Alexis Taylor's smooth and powerful vocals of "Alley Cats" cry out,"It started when I was young and now it is in my lung, You painted a song, you painted a song, It started when I was young and now it is in my lung." Delicate strings of violin overpower as the bus exits the driveway. The school looks increasingly small from the back window.

Act 1: Scene: Fired

7:00 a.m.- The alarm clock buzzes an annoying trumpet of electronica. The click of the shower knob causes hot water to stream down. "Lost Cause" by Beck comes floating into the scene. Beck soulfully sings, "I'm tired of fighting, tired of fighting. Fighting for a lost cause" as a coffee pot sizzles a French Roast.

8:45 a.m.- Traffic is thick. The simple strumming of Elliot Smith's "Between The Bars" slowly overpowers the honking and tire screeching.

9:05 a.m.- The office receptionist looks up as the door opens but says nothing. The walk is exaustive to the lybrinth of cubicles. The Album Leaf's “Red Eye” flows in as three employees whisper around the broken fax machine.

2:30 p.m.- The boss with a silver goat-tee approaches. He smiles and begins rambling about company direction and downsizing. “It’s nothing personal but we are letting you go.” As the boss pulls out pie-charts and graphs to prove his point, Wilco’s “Hate it Here” drowns out his nasally voice. The vibrant electric guitar and Jeff Tweedy’s expression of angst plays as the desk is packed up.

3:25 p.m.- Arriving at home, the front-door seems unusually heavy. The potted fern next to the bookcase looks like it is dying. The house is still.

5:00 p.m.- The Strokes’ “Evening Sun” interrupts the silence found in the living room. Plots of vengeance are planned as the room begins to feel increasingly crowded.

9:15 p.m. - Sufjan Steven’s “Chicago” blasts through the yellow stereo. As a wine glass is placed in the dishwasher, the lyrics sing, “if I was crying in the van with my friend it was for freedom from myself and from the land. I made a lot of mistakes I made a lot of mistakes….”