I’m beginning to wonder if I have finally crossed the “crazy” threshold.
I play a unicorn onstage. This involved blue chalk highlights in my hair. I haven’t washed them out, per the request of the girl who does my hair for the show. Tomorrow I will be walking around with tangled, hairspray laden hair with huge streaks of white and blue swirled up inside it. I’ll look like a younger Bellatrix LeStrange. Also, I will look ridiculous. I don’t care.
For whatever reason, stores are selling an inordinate amount of chocolate in heart-shaped packaging. No matter how queerly it may be packaged, it’s on sale, and chocolate is chocolate. My blessed mother has brought me two, count them, TWO boxes this week so I can keep my energy up during performances. Weight gain is inevitable, no matter how much of the stuff I share. Again, I don’t care.
I have a performance in acting class on Friday that I’m not sure if I’ll have time to practice much for. I don’t care. Okay—I care a little. A lot. But I don’t care in a “oh-my-goodness-I’m-so-nervous-I-can’t-eat” kind of way.
I’m letting prepositions dangle all over the ends of this post’s sentences. I don’t care.
The internet on campus is as slow as molasses in Antarctica. That simile was ridiculous. Guess what? Oh well. Ho-hum. Don’t care.
Now, I definitely cannot say that I’ve stopped caring about everything. I still care about the important stuff, like God and friends and family and love and good art and cats. But my concern for “keeping up appearances” has gone from its usual rank of 0 to -10.
I wonder if this means I’ve finally cracked. I’ve been balanced precariously on the brink of insanity for the past, oh, ten years or so. But I wonder if some combination of leaping in and out of Narnia and this semester’s interestingness has shoved me over the precipice and into the psychedelic oblivion of utter lunacy.
Nah. Probably not. At least not yet.
Oh well. Better luck next time.