Monday evening I got kicked in the face. Or did I allow myself to get kicked in the face? Or did I attack my friend’s boot with my eye socket? Personal responsibility can be rather painful.
Setting the stage:
I was at rehearsal, doing my best to portray demonic Cheryl in Evil Dead the Musical. Cheryl pretty much lives in the cellar, locked away by her brother Ash. On cue, I raised the cellar door just enough to stick my face out of the hole in the floor. I peered forward and for a split second, I saw Ash’s boot directly in front of my…holy mother of…that was my eye or eye socket or some part of my face that at one moment was perfect and then…breathe…crap that hurts…breathe dammit…don’t cry…try not to cry…fine, cry, maybe crying will make the pain stop! Continue reading