Cinematic Levels of Ick

If you were going to write a screenplay and make the Holly character look pathetic, it might go something like my evening.

We had our weekly improv performance. I'm not thrilled with how I did, but I'm getting over it by the time the second intermission comes around. Then I have a decision to make: Do I put my name in for the lottery? The lottery is where everyone who has improvised that night puts their name into a plastic pumpkin (like you'd use for trick-or-treating), and if your name is drawn, you get to do another improv set with the professional improvisers who've come to the show that night. The only rule, that I know of, is that you shouldn't put your name in if you got called the week before.

But I've been called twice already this term, and I didn't want to get called up too much, you know? On the other hand, I wanted to redeem myself after a weak showing earlier that night. After asking for the input of some of the other actors, I put my name in.

I got called. And our director, who drew my name, says as I walk up, "Did you get called last week?" I said no, and he said, "Holly's been lucky with the lottery." Which, combined with the insecurity I had already, left me feeling like everyone had seen too much of me and I was a selfish jerk for being up there again. So instead of getting out there more (my main frustration from earlier was that I'd been too quiet), I held back even more.

But wait, it gets better. After the shows, the actors and their friends go to this local pub. So I went, knowing I was too wound up to get to sleep after an upsetting show.

And I ordered my drink.

And I drank it alone, because no one else showed up. I just sat there by the window, looking to see if anyone I recognized was on their way.

Um, could something really romantic and redeeming happen now?