The word flollop was first used in Douglas Adams' literary masterpiece Life, The Universe, and Everything. It was described as a sort of flailing motion(and, technically, only the mattresses of Squornshellus Zeta are truly able to do it). The mattress flollops in joy, and I always held on to that idea. Flolloping.
So now, when I get so excited I can't contain it and I have to kick my legs and move my arms and wriggle in my seat, I call it flolloping, and I did it for twenty minutes straight last night.
The muse, in his own roundabout way, had made it clear that he would be at our theatre's open mic night last night. And he didn't invite me, specifically, only mentioned it while we were at our department's summer picnic(we work hard here at B&G, and we deserve free crabs). I went back and forth about it in the days leading up, but I finally settled on "Why would he tell me he was going unless it was a sort of invitation and you go to that all the time anyway so just go and shut up and stop being a baby."
I took a sick day yesterday(for my mental health). Most of the day was spent cleaning and rearranging some furniture. There were admittedly some video games, but I swear the majority of my time was spent productively. I listened to music, took a shower, spent time picking out a decent outfit-I tried my best to prepare myself, so I wouldn't feel so nervous. Just before I left, I put on my red lipstick. There's something about a good red lip that makes you feel confident. My particular shade is called "I could kill you and get away with it". Not officially but, you know.
And then, I was there. And not much later, he was there. And we sat together, and talked, and cracked up, and made dumb jokes. I think I'm finally getting over the nervousness that comes with being physically near him(Because no amount of texting, and there has been a fair bit, can compare to actually being present). I smiled a lot.
He left early, so I walked him out and we talked more. It was just nice. I felt good. I was happy. I went inside, found my friend, and flolloped.
As happy as I am, there's still the voice inside that says "It won't last". It's sad to think so, but I can always hope.
So now, when I get so excited I can't contain it and I have to kick my legs and move my arms and wriggle in my seat, I call it flolloping, and I did it for twenty minutes straight last night.
The muse, in his own roundabout way, had made it clear that he would be at our theatre's open mic night last night. And he didn't invite me, specifically, only mentioned it while we were at our department's summer picnic(we work hard here at B&G, and we deserve free crabs). I went back and forth about it in the days leading up, but I finally settled on "Why would he tell me he was going unless it was a sort of invitation and you go to that all the time anyway so just go and shut up and stop being a baby."
I took a sick day yesterday(for my mental health). Most of the day was spent cleaning and rearranging some furniture. There were admittedly some video games, but I swear the majority of my time was spent productively. I listened to music, took a shower, spent time picking out a decent outfit-I tried my best to prepare myself, so I wouldn't feel so nervous. Just before I left, I put on my red lipstick. There's something about a good red lip that makes you feel confident. My particular shade is called "I could kill you and get away with it". Not officially but, you know.
And then, I was there. And not much later, he was there. And we sat together, and talked, and cracked up, and made dumb jokes. I think I'm finally getting over the nervousness that comes with being physically near him(Because no amount of texting, and there has been a fair bit, can compare to actually being present). I smiled a lot.
He left early, so I walked him out and we talked more. It was just nice. I felt good. I was happy. I went inside, found my friend, and flolloped.
As happy as I am, there's still the voice inside that says "It won't last". It's sad to think so, but I can always hope.
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