I'm trying to ride last night's crest to the point where I can get back to writing again. But after an opening sentence like that, why would I want to?
Two reasons.
One is Natalie Goldberg. So I'll write what I know. *scrolls for anecdotes* My right ankle is made of titanium and pluck. I stepped on a patch of acorns outside the CBT yesterday, and didn't so much roll as snap it all the way to the right, the perfect maneuver for an outside sprain. But no swelling, no popping, not even any pain. Snaps for my legs (which deserve them, anyway).
What else? Here are five songs in constant, constant rotation right now. (Shut up; this is harder than it looks.) Unless you went to high school with me, you've prolly never heard of four of them. Remedy this, I implore you.
Chingon - Malaguena Salerosa
BT - Animals
Crystal Method - Ten Miles Back
Frou Frou - Let Go
Wicked - Thank Goodness
And it wouldn't be a proper entry without some situational comedy:
[Scene: Shakespeare class has just been dismissed for the day. Holly is mumbling her opening monologue on her way out the door.]
Terry (Prof), with a perfect tone of admonition tinged with contempt: Holly, would Lady Anne bite her lip?
Holly, meekly, completely floored by the spectacular burn: No, sir.
[Scene: Russian class. The students are trying to guess a number Justin has picked. This has been going on for several minutes, and everyone's getting sick of it.]
Holly, in a fit of sarcasm: Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A B A Select Start?
Justin: Yes!!
Professor: What was that?
Holly, totally deadpan: Thirteen.
Professor, totally buying it: Excellent. Moving on.
I promised another reason. It's this. ItW starts rehearsing tonight. All night. Every night. My roommates will be there. My friends will be there. I will not. This is not sitting well. What recourse do I really have but to throw myself into something I used to love almost as much? So I'm going to finish this post, take a shower, and get out of the house; drive around, get some tea, and settle in at the library or the coffee shop with a mountain of midterm notes and prep work for CUT. Because that's how it is in the NBA.
No one will ever love you.
Posted by: J at September 27, 2004 06:53 PMBaby, you ain't kidding.
Posted by: Holly at September 27, 2004 07:38 PMWho's the girl I saw you with?
Posted by: Michael at September 28, 2004 10:42 PMSeriously? I don't know, and it's freaking me out.
Posted by: Holly at September 29, 2004 01:24 PMSaw her again today. I don't know how I knew she'd have a Slavic accent. I think she must have gone to OR. Anyone remember her from HB's class? Keiran?
Posted by: H at September 29, 2004 10:52 PMslavic accent? justine? alinia? good god i dont know, how bout some more discription of said lady friend (and dont leave out the good stuff [like how many finger she has on her right hand])...
Posted by: k eiran at September 30, 2004 11:50 AMNo, neither of them. Tiny little blonde thing. She's not a theatre kid. (I don't think.) I saw another guy today whom I KNOW I know from freshman year, knew his name and everything, talked for awhile, can't for the life of me figure out when I met him. AND I ran into Ashley Smith at the bus stop, whom I haven't seen since graduation. This is getting strange.
Posted by: H at September 30, 2004 11:55 AMwell, it wasn't me. I'm not a slavic girl, yet... I am, however going to be a juror in a Czech short film festival. Seriously. I"ll post about it soon
Posted by: Jesse at September 30, 2004 03:55 PMUm.....details?!?!?!?!? STAT.
Posted by: H at September 30, 2004 04:10 PM