April 2002

I am sitting in my hotel room in the desert. Borrego Springs to be exact, where we are shooting the final inal days of the show. There is a wind that has picked up and threatens to blow my whole caseda on its ide. I feel like Dorothy in that rickety clapboard house. In fact that analogy is more apt than I realized.

First of all, I am not in Kansas anymore and second of all, when I finally land and crack open the door of my future, a whole new and wonderfully foreign world will span out before me. And in technicolor no doubt.

These last few days have been a little surreal. Shooting in this heat with the wind and sand is no small task. Kim Manners looks about ready to have a heart attack. He is sunburned and stressed and his back as been out for weeks and we have to get all of our work done each day before the sun goes down.

Poor Kim, he works so hard.

Production decided at some point to make all of our scenes out here day work. I am not sure what the original impetus was but it enables the crew to gather in the evenings and enjoy each other for the ountdown. The only problem for me at least is that I have gotten home after work every night with a dreadful headache and absolutely no energy to be social whatsoever. If I drank I am sure I could muster he energy to partake in the fun and forget my physical woes but since that is not an option, I relegate myself to my room and the advil bottle and contemplate which of the many scripts/books/movies I have no energy to enjoy.

On the whole everyone is in good spirits and there does not seem to be a whole lot of sadness yet. The air/makeup/wardrobe department has brought along water pistols and spend the day drenching each other at regular intervals to peels of uproarious laughter from all. David has been joining in which is not quite fair as he is in Mulder clothes and cannot be squirted back. Although, the odd crew member who as been doused by him for too long will throw caution to the wind and just let him have it. And since David wears a t-shirt and has little hair and make-up maintenance, it doesn't take long to right him again.

Me, on the other hand, am wearing a shirt that shows water and hair that frizzes when wet and way too much make-up for my own good, and am forced to play the roll of Mom. I am the safe zone behind whom veryone gets to hide. It is both a frustrating yet satisfying position to be in; to be on the outside yet needed and included all the same. The irony is not lost on me as in reality, in a purely psychological way, it is just the way I like it.

Chris is out here and in good spirits as well. Going for runs in the early evenings after work when the rest of us can barely peel ourselves off the couch. Where does he get his energy? I think he and David are working up to a triathlon in the next month or so which also includes biking and swimming. A safe way for them to compete. It is hard to tell what might really be going on in Chris's head right now. Whether he maintains his smile and quiet contemplation because he is grounded and at peace with the end or if it is a task that holds back a storm of emotion. I guess that can be said for us all as we reside together in this far away melting pot taking our last steps on the yellow brick road towards the unknown.

Anyway, I was looking over the questions and realizing I had but few days to come up with something and just started writing where I'm at. Hopefully this is answering some of your silent questions of...what is it like for them right now in the final days? Come Friday there will be but one answer, one ultimate truth. And it will come in the form of tears.

I know that your hearts and minds are with us and you will follow us albeit resignedly, as we trudge the road to happy destiny. I thank you for that.

With gratitude,

Gillian.