I miss improv. I really, really do.
It’s depressing, not being in classes, not practicing for shows, not having the energy to go out and SEE shows. After more than a year of immersion, I feel like I’ve got my club pass revoked. (I just removed “… and feel like I’m on the outside looking in” because the ridiculousness emo of that made me laugh out loud.) I MISS IT, DAMMIT.
My friends are putting deposits down on the summer intensive at IO and I’m so massively jealous it hurts. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since the heaviness of last summer’s heat. There’s still so much restlessness shaking about in the crevasses of my brain directly tied to it.
Hot asphalt. That’s a troupe name if I ever heard one.
Rarr. I know it’s temporary. I also know I have other things I need to be thinking about and preparing for right now (although if one more person gets on me about why I haven’t packed my hospital bag yet, they’re getting punched in the throat).
Today is Tom’s One Day Without Shoes at work and I’m grossed out about it. Bare feet and company bathrooms and kitchens do not mix, y’all. No, no, no.