Vol 4: Would you stand up and walk out on me?

What a day! What a night!

I was up at 6:30 this morning, for the much-lauded pre-dawn Improv practice. That was fine, I did my best to be chipper, after all, this was for the team. Even though I spent the entirety of first sitting in the box office, writing my "senses poetry" for Writer's Craft.

School raced by at a snail's pace. I enjoy all my classes, but 3:00 was long in coming. I got home, ate an early dinner, and by 5:30 was back at school to await driving to the Improv competition.

Oh and I also discovered a fabulous new website, the WebComic El Goonish Shive. It's brilliant.

Improv was great. The difference between this time and last time was that this time, they took us aside this time and told us what was good and what should be improved. And they gave us points, which basically painted us an inferior to all the other groups. I dunno, I don't think it was unfair but I wish we didn't have to tie. That really eats it. I didn't have a "double-pearled" line although I did get a few laughs; in theme when I randomly interjected "I'm already crying," and in Character when I said, as 'honest' waiter, "The special today is steak. It's not very good. ... well the reason why it's so special is that it's probably the worst special we've ever had." And then had to rush the ending. And so character, which is normally our strongest, became our weakest. We did consistent, and I think we did great, but overall I see so many places in which we - and myself in particular - could have picked up the ball better. I'm sure everybody walks away thinking "If only I'd said this in this scene," but that was not to be. Story and theme, however, the new inductions to our oevre, were well received, and life was an infinite improvement over first punk show; "letting a friend down" opened up all kinds of doors which we just knocked down with what I consider to be great success.

Afterward, Alyssa, Doug, Ryan, Emma and I stopped into Timmy H's for a cup o joe and about an hour of chit chat. I'll tell you there is very little in this world that I take more pleasure in than just sitting down with any random combination of drama kids and talking. Just grooving.

But did you ever get the feeling the universe was trying to tell you something?

I'll explain.

Going back to November, at the last Reach tournement, you'll read my rant about a girl I have met there frequently over the years (every time we meet it's like for the first time, and the question is frequently asked, "do you remember me?") Her name is Leanne and she goes to Bateman. And here's the part where I totally spill my guts and get all sentimental and I have that I'm about to do this but sometimes you have to relieve yourself.

As previously stated, yesterday's assignment was to write a piece of poetry - or prose (mine straddles those boundries,) that appeals to the senses. Meaning you describe someone incorporating all senses. And the thing I thought of was basically about this same girl from Bateman - who I knew I was going to see tomorrow at Reach anyway. If you recall frequent references to "February 11th" you'll realize that was what that was about.

So I handed it in today, and during the intermission after Roud 2 of improv, who should tap me on the shoulder but Leanne from Bateman?! Jesus I was not expecting that! I mean, I knew Bateman was going to be at the competition, but I didn't figure that the one person I knew or cared about from that school would be in the audience (she was not a participant.) And I was shocked. Dumbstruck. Ambushed. And when I stared in disbelief that she was here talking to me, she asked "You don't remember me, do you?" And I instantly repeated "You're Leanne, from Bateman."

PS - I don't even really know the spelling of her name, so I'm using the one I'm most familiar with.

We could only go so long because I was taken unprepared. But we left at least with confirmation that yes, we would both be at Reach tomorrow.

If I ever believed in the presence of meaning in the universe - that seemingly random events could have so meaning on one person's life, this was it. Is it destiny, coincidence, or just sheer determination? All those conscious decisions were made - me joining improv, her coming to support her team - were they just for our own reasons or was there more to it?

I'm feeling like Romeo, because of how blindly lovesick he is at the beginning of that play. And tomorrow has suddenly become so much more important to me - ironic, considering it was the only thing I'd been looking foward to for months anyway.

God, I sound like such a teenager. Sorry, faithful readers, for the uncharacteristically romantic entry.

But please keep on rockin'
-Scott