Solo!
I have been assured by all and sundry that I was terrific. I certainly had a wonderful time, despite the gobs and gobs of makeup smeared all over me.
Unexpected boons arrived in the form of friends . . . some folks from the writers' group, my therapist (I am very surprised she came), and spacezombie who brought me Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell: A Novel.
The costume weighed about thirty pounds and felt like a boa constrictor squeezing my ribs, while sequins like sharpened scales dug into my flesh. But - and this is the important part - it did not come flying off. Nor did it trip me, though it tried. Twice.
I did get slapped with a tamborine at one point, but that was not my fault, so I'll let it slide.
In the midst of Sidewinder, I was firmly waved at by a woman I suspect may have been the_dark_mirror. If it was, I am sorry I could not find you later, but I'm grateful you showed up. Please tell everyone that I am, in fact, a decent dancer, if rather short. If it was not you, well, I don't know who it was, but they seemed into me, so I'm pleased anyway.
The Solo went well. I made one tiny mistake. That was it. And got a huge round of applause. From people who did not know me, and also appeared relatively sober.
I had not realized that She Who Must Be Obeyed had not scheduled ANYONE ELSE to solo. I got the only slot, folks. And damn, I'm proud. Because I knocked the Hell out of that fucker. I have never sold a song so hard in my life. And they apparently bought it, because there was much whooping, and practically every girl in the troupe made a point of coming over at some point and telling me how great I was.
Of course, I was shivering with terror before I went on. I am fairly confident it didn't show, but I'm just telling you that I was in the interest of total honesty.
Here's hoping I do as well tomorrow, when the camera crew is there to film me. Or, if I screw up, here's hoping it's really, really entertaining. Mom could use a laugh.
Anyway, that's about all I have to say about that. I'm exhausted, need food, and must sleep.
I love my job. I really do.
link
Unexpected boons arrived in the form of friends . . . some folks from the writers' group, my therapist (I am very surprised she came), and spacezombie who brought me Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell: A Novel.
The costume weighed about thirty pounds and felt like a boa constrictor squeezing my ribs, while sequins like sharpened scales dug into my flesh. But - and this is the important part - it did not come flying off. Nor did it trip me, though it tried. Twice.
I did get slapped with a tamborine at one point, but that was not my fault, so I'll let it slide.
In the midst of Sidewinder, I was firmly waved at by a woman I suspect may have been the_dark_mirror. If it was, I am sorry I could not find you later, but I'm grateful you showed up. Please tell everyone that I am, in fact, a decent dancer, if rather short. If it was not you, well, I don't know who it was, but they seemed into me, so I'm pleased anyway.
The Solo went well. I made one tiny mistake. That was it. And got a huge round of applause. From people who did not know me, and also appeared relatively sober.
I had not realized that She Who Must Be Obeyed had not scheduled ANYONE ELSE to solo. I got the only slot, folks. And damn, I'm proud. Because I knocked the Hell out of that fucker. I have never sold a song so hard in my life. And they apparently bought it, because there was much whooping, and practically every girl in the troupe made a point of coming over at some point and telling me how great I was.
Of course, I was shivering with terror before I went on. I am fairly confident it didn't show, but I'm just telling you that I was in the interest of total honesty.
Here's hoping I do as well tomorrow, when the camera crew is there to film me. Or, if I screw up, here's hoping it's really, really entertaining. Mom could use a laugh.
Anyway, that's about all I have to say about that. I'm exhausted, need food, and must sleep.
I love my job. I really do.
link