A brief word of advice here: do not ever paint scenery in the dark. Granted, this is probably common knowledge to most, but somehow it slipped my mind. Ergo, I found myself under a piece of piece of plywood, slapping black paint on support beams and therefore making my environment even more indistinguishable and more or less painting myself into a corner. In a sense. Then I turned around and hit my head on a beam, thereby earning a black blotch on my hair and a rather nasty headache. But it all counts as hours, at least...

Then, off to lunch with a relatively tolerable speciman of the opposite sex, then off to auditions and a three-hour wait before my turn.

It was nice, actually. Met some people, got to know some others better, found out some things, etc. Oh, and I read the play too.

And then I totally botched the audition. I still don't know what happened. Maybe it was the wait, maybe I was distracted. Point is, it was much worse than my previous audition--and if that one didn't land me a role, it's highly unlikely this one will.

But still. I can do a Cockney accent, dangnammit (Amarette, back me up here, will you?). What happened? Growl.

But. There's a silver lining this time around. You see, while I was becoming acquainted with the other actors, I met up with a certain girl and we got to talking about Jesus Christ Superstar. She was surprised I knew who Tony Vincent was and our opinions matched up quite well. And then I mentioned Anything Goes and found out she'd played Ling. So we compared notes on that. And then, ah then, I asked if she was into Les Mis.

Heaven in a handbasket, I am not alone.

There is another Mizfit on campus, repeat, there is another Mizfit on campus.

And she wrote one of her college essays on 'Ferre (we compared notes on that, too; I did one of mine on Grantaire) and she thinks Azelma is underrepresented and she can't stand the '98 movie or Ms. Kalpakian and she adores Peter Lockyer and she can pronounce the students' names and she's read the book several times and she sang along with me when I started humming Gavroche's "Look Down" solo and... Anyway, we exchanged addresses. Oh yes...

And, to fill out the day, I got a letter from Gilberte.

I might not sign myself into a mental hospital after all.

Adieu.