not falling down

I’m in kind of a quiet mood, but I was just getting ready to write when I let a fluffy and whoooo doggies what a smell.There goes introspection.

So I’m going to Alabama from the 6th to the 10th for my first ever SETC. This is normally where drama majors go to audition for summer stock or apply for tech jobsand stuff; I thought about it, but since I wasn’t ready for the qualifier auditions back in fall I didn’t try out. Iwouldn’t be going at all, actually, except I signed up for this new thing and somehow got in. I’mgoing to be an overnight ten-minute playwright.

I would be nervous about that, but when I think about it, I actually wrote all my scripts for playwriting class thenight before they were due anyway. This will probably be the same thing, only with snacks.

Standard update for the dozen or so people who ask me every day if anything new has happened with a certain someone:no. But it is terribly thoughtful of you to ask!

now if there’s a cure for this
we don’t want it; we run from it

Anyone have some Idiotcam© ideas? ‘Cause I’m running kind of low.

Running, in general, is not a pretty thing. Jogging isn’t bad, because you’re setting a steady pace, not pushing yourself, wearing your designer sweatclothes or whatever. But even when people goggle at runners in the Olympics, it’s about half admiration for their incredible smoothness of form and half fascination with the weird ugliness of any pro runner’s body. Let’s face it: nobody with that little body fat is really attractive (and yes, that includes supermodels).

Unfortunately, I have neither good form nor a body like a Slim Jim, and though I don’t exactly carry a mirror when I run, I’m fairly sure I’m more a sight to cause sore eyes than anything. I run in a loose white t-shirt and old black shorts. My hair (especially now that it’s getting long) flounces and flops where it’s not pasted to my forehead,so I appear to be wearing a particularly flamboyant hedgehog for a hat. And because my family genetically doesn’t get rid of heat well, my face goes piebald but for deep pits around my eyes, so I kind of look like I’m running toward the Battered Women’s Shelter.

This is something I’ve adjusted to. I do most of my route off-campus, so I don’t really run into anyone I know, and I usually go out in the early afternoon when everyone’s busy (these aren’t actually precautionary measures to keep people from seeing me, but they are convenient). Up until yesterday I hadn’t really given the subject of looking embarrassing much thought.

But it was yesterday when, around 5:30, I pounded up the last stretch toward Bingham–wheezing, zombie-faced, getting about six inches to a stride–and encountered, well, take three guesses who as she strolled down, puffing daintily on her cigarette.

She gave me a nice smile, in a “you know you look stupid” kind of way.

In other news, it’s just possible that because I’m “participating directly in the conference,” I could get free airfare and meal/hotel money from Centre for SETC. That would be a very nice thing. I wonder if I could get them to give it to me for Italy instead.

just as relaxed as the tower of Pisa
not ever missing that old Mona Lisa