Each day stretches longer then the one before, like a series of yawns amongst a tight group of people who never realized until the mice squeaked that they were tired, road weary, and nearly beaten.
I would be me disappointed in myself for not doing my stats tonight, no matter how much I need to do it but I need these allergies to calm the fuck down and go away. I've had them coped with my stress shit for a bit too long and it's just making me more angry. Just what Max needs, right?
In brighter news, the Aud Squad is forming a dance crew. Randy, Arthur, Gavin, Carley, Sarah, Hank, and Randy don't know yet but it's happening. I'm sure they'll bring their best moves. Lord knows Randy can do the spinaroonie like a champ.
I could reflect on theatre en generale, Truman Theatre, or the encroaching year and goals for it but my eyes are too heavy. All I want in the world is to make a small difference. Though I'd really like the chance to brush up my shakespeare in whatever David does end up directing. So, I'd be cool if I was lucky enough to be cast in whatever he ends up picking. Lab show, not so much. The one show I want to direct in this world wouldn't work with our hypothetical season.
Plus I just ultimately want to blow this pop sickle stand called Kirksville. I think it makes me callous perhaps that I want to get out of this place so bad, even perhaps at the sake of the friendships and bonds I have made in college but I could use a little time away from my baggage that lives 5 blocks south of me.
Sigh. Rant over. Geography shouldn't bother one that bad but it gets to me sometimes. So it goes.
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