Tuesday is a Weird Day

Hi friends,

 

Happy Tuesday!

 

I came back from a run yesterday and the first thing I see when I open my door is a bug on my window. A massive massive bug. It was the size of the palm of my hand. For realz. This thing was as scary as the time I was trying to open a water gun that I’d just gotten and in the process cut off a chunk of my left pointer finger, and the scream emitted from my mouth was probably of a similar volume and level of terror. Those of you who know me know that I am terrified of bugs, particularly bees. But this Amazon creature on my window may take the cake in the competition of bugs that scare me the most. So I quietly do my post-run stretches while I freak out trying to figure out what to do about this bug. I’m shaking the entire time. I decide what would be best would be for me to take a pair of gym shorts that are in my laundry pile and ball them up and throw them as hard as I can at the monster. I do so, and I miss. I start to cry. Because. The evil thing has now taken on a stance of “If you mess with my family, you mess with me, if you mess with me, you die.” It’s posing there telling me, “Throw them again, I dare ya! Throw em! Provoke me to attack your face so I can dine on your eyeballs and take your eyebrows home and make a fur stole for one of my monster children.” So, obviously, I listen to the bug, and slowly grab the shorts from the window seat, I feel the thing watching my every move. I slowly ball the shorts up again, and do some sort of tribal scream reminiscent of the theme song to the popular reality series Survivor, and throw the shorts as hard as I can at the monster. I hit the bug, and the shorts go down. I am scared now to lift the shorts up to see the bug. But I do it anyway, and scream as I do so. There was a lot of screaming. I don’t want to even know what my suitemates thought. I lift the shorts, and the bug is there, quaking. I laugh at it, I laugh in its terrifying face, still menacing in its final moments of life. It’s sitting there, shaking like Eponine after being shot while trying to make her way back over the barricade. Only this time there’s no Marius to sing a duet with her. She’s alone. I made a reference to Les Miserables there, if you didn’t catch it. It’s on the vent to the heating system. Hanging on for dear life, waiting for the vent called Rose to tell the bug called Jack that she’ll never let go, she promises. But at this point, I was already afraid the thing was going to come back to life and kill me and my dog in our sleep, so I cut short the tender Titanic moment and hit the thing with a flip flop that I never wear. The monster fell through the vent like Sirius Black through the veil at the Ministry. I WAS VICTORIOUS. I AM VICTORIOUS. I AM VICTORIA JUSTICE.

 

Tonight are callbacks for my theater workshop. I’m scared and anxious and terrified in a different way than I was about the bug and excited and happy and sad and nervous. I called back 7 women and 5 men for two roles, one male and one female. Callbacks goin’ be intense. More intense, perhaps, than my bug adventure from last evening. But most likely not. Then tonight, we and by we I mean the other three workshop directors meet and negotiate our casting. That’s exciting! Right? RIGHT?!

 

I’m having an awesome time in classes so far. Directing is a bit overwhelming but I’m learning a LOT and will learn more once we’re on our feet with the directing work, Theatre and Culture I is just a major laughfest and I love it because the professor is hilarious, Playwriting is as wacky as ever, Humorous (Dis)course is great and Beck the professor is hilarious and a great teacher, and Soc101 is a blast and I’ve already learned more than I expected to in the class. I wish we had recess, though. That would be nice, it would bring back memories of grade school where I’d go outside after lunch and all the guys would have their Beyblades ready to battle and the girls would have their dolls and I would be alone and all the guys would gang up on me and throw their Beyblades at me and all the girls would hit me with their Barbies and I would cry, like I did last night with the bug just not as bad as last night. Ah, the fond memories.

 

I am hungry. I am going to eat. I love you as much as I love coffee, which is a lot. You is kind, you is smart, you is important.

 

Measure in Love,

 

Kev

 

 

About Kevin Berry

jamba juice. mennonite. enneagram.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*