phthalombrage | (no subject)

Back when I played piano, I used to play a song called .

The first show was abysmal, as first shows often are.
The second show makes me feel like I can do this.
But it's surreal... so blatantly disorganized, sporadic warmups, no corrections, short dances (tap is 1:23 long), bad dances, bad costuming, no really tough change situations (hair stays the same the whole show), no comments about facial expression or formations, minimal rehearsal....
I'm like heh heh, senior year.

Krista and I were going to give Jodi a giant metal F we had decorated with negative, non-threatening things about her (zero integrity, zero choreography, zero imagination, but for everything else there's MasterCard et al.), but instead we bought her flowers.

Chrysanthemums.

Hilarious for me

but it was awkward getting them to her.

So many familiar faces in a warren of backstage passageways, wincing or eyes widening, awkward one-armed hugs, waiting in mostly-empty rooms...

She had nervous eyes. She hurriedly said thank you at least six times.
And talked about how busy she was.

Ehh, wotevah, I have two shows tomorrow and I really hope we still need tan pointe shoes because my ankle is still not friendly and breaking in new shoes sounds daunting. Also... sewing on ribbons.

Tonight I should really shower, take in my tap sack and hem my jazz thing, but the shower is the only one that will probably actually happen.

Maybe.

I should slow down.

There are details, but I know them, and if I forget them, I suck, so...
they involve stray balloons, tardiness, crazy witch hair, counting light poles, my ribcage, sandwich lines, Charles holding Cynthia, bear holding shark, new dance studios and public relations folk.

I think I'd not like to relate to the public much.

I also think Justin secretly enjoys wearing eyeliner.