I talk to myself. It doesn’t mean I’m crazy. It usually means I can’t keep up with my own thoughts and have to speak them out loud to slow them down. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. I also hum, not very well but there’s always music in my head and it doesn’t take much for a foot to tap along as well. It passes time. Especially when you’re going after quarries.
What does any of this have to do with anything? Well, I love my new internship. I get to play at the museum for hours on end. Of course it’s not really play, I do have things to do, and I do them, but I have fun with it and of course I spend most of my time in my two favorite wings so there’s always something fun to look at as well. Even meetings are entertaining, especially when the writers I work with inquire what class I’m off to later and I respond Scholarly Research and Writing, they say “can we come?” I respond “Sure I don’t think the Dean will mind.” Which launches an amusing rendition of having an administrator for a professor. It ends with the sad knowledge that said Dean is one of the few professors I actually enjoy. I may be going to a highly “prestigious” institution, but sadly most of the people have the personality of a newt, actually less, newts can be quite lively. Maybe it’s because they feel the need to act the diligent professor part, but I really just get the feeling they think we’re nothing more than dirt. Not all of them, but there are some that really come across that way.
Then there are the few that every moment is a learning experience and they are nice, kind, very intelligent and down to earth. They’re the ones I enjoy immensely and gee you know they have senses of humor. Let’s see what was it, oh so one of my classes we get a behind the scenes look at things the museum and how some things like lighting or graphics that people don’t consider get done. Well, the lighting guy was explaining something and I commented that it appeared they were using multiple colored gels for lights to get the color effect. He inquired if I had any lighting experience to which I laughed and simply replied, that yes, but not that much, nor was I particularly good at it. He inquired why, I responded I had been a dancer for eighteen years, so I was concerned with which lights would reveal and hide the feet and make the dancer look thinner and not clash with the costumes and only briefly had I expanded that to the theatre lighting when I received a crash course during the full length musical I choreographed. He asked where and what it had been, I answered honestly, Into the Woods in a black box in SC. He blinked, and queried “A black box?” I nodded. He sighed and said very simply “That is far braver than I would’ve been willing to be, were you crazy?” “By the end we thought we were, but it was a wonderful expereience and just simply fun to be on stage.” He then started to hum into the wood, and one of the girls glanced over and sighed “I love that musical, I know all the words.” I snickered slightly and she defended “I do!” I nodded and said, “Last verse of the finale.”
“To find, to wed, to kill, to teach, to go the festival,” I simply said, “Wrong order, wrong, song, and not enough words.” She looked at me, I quite calmly said “To have, to wed, to get, to save, to kill, to keep, to go to the festival.” She asked how i knew it so well, I simply responded I had listened to it everyday for six months straight, aproximately 100 times a day. And we stopped every time it was wrong and went back. You learn it real fast then. Both lighting guy and the girl said the music is so wonderful and at the point I just laughed.
The other side of the fence is such a fascinating place to be sometimes.
