Some Things (or: Change Happens).
I have never ever ripped the knee of a pair of pants before last night, when during one of the kneel-skid-kneel routines in my dance audition i caught the worn khaki fabric of my pants on a seam of the stage. I didn’t notice until we got home and i went to poke at the huge purplish bruise on my knee only to find my finger poking clear through the leg of my pants.
Callbacks, for all you who so kindly inquired, went decently. I was convinced that we’d have to sing a bit more tonight, so i don’t think i had any dairy all day and am now making up for it with the most massive bowl of ice cream i’ve ever had. It’s obvious that i don’t have the voice or presence to play any of the cast roles, so i was basically just being used as filler in the scenes we read. Which, honestly, i don’t mind. I just want to sing. The Cast List will be up tomorrow at 1pm.
Lindsay says she can hear everything that goes on in my room, and i suppose she must be able to; i can hear everything that’s said in hers and, though i can’t usually hear her move, my floor is her ceiling. So, i’ve been trying to be very still, and not as stompy when i wake up in the morning.
I had breakfast again today. Somehow, my days have been better every time i’ve had breakfast in the last week, but if i were to be scientific about i think i’d find that the relationship between the two isn’t causal in nature. I really don’t try to dissect better, or happy, or any other good thing too much — lest it disintegrate and flow from my hands like grains of sand. It’s irony, really: you want to have something to hold on to, but have to keep your hands off. Proverbially, that is. Or not. Blah, time for bed.