It started off innocently, I was going to be a jaguar in the school play. I practiced my roar, I practiced jumping out at people, and I got laryngitis two days before the show. With stage lights blaring, my acting debut had me jumping out from behind construction-paper trees and squeakily roaring. It was supposed to be scary, but the audience laughed.
A few years later, stage lights blaring, I misspelled "dormancy." It turns out that it's a variation on dormant. It turns out, it only has one "o."
Many years later in grad school with stage lights blaring, I read a poem about the power of croissants to stop rampaging chipmunks. At the end, one person in the audience laughed. It was my roommate. It really was a funny poem.
And so, I find playing cello to be better. It's something to hide behind. I've not fared well on my own.
An Erinku:
kitties don't
respect
wrapped
presents
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