Performed At Stanford in the Nitery Theater, May 31, 2016
A monologue in the third person, in which I tell the story of my decision to transfer schools in college.
…she’s here, already. And she still. hasn’t. decided. How is it possible that someone could be so indecisive? It’s absurd. She’s a ridiculous and absurd human being. But she doesn’t have time for self-deprecation, and she’s got momentum so what else is there to do but walk up its stone steps? She opens the glass doors and with relief feels the conditioned air rush to replace the humidity. The building’s atmosphere is equally comforting—softly lit, quiet and empty, high ceilings… she feels the same sense of the sacred that fills her when she’s alone in a church, or later in her life, a theater. Her Converse tread on the shiny marble floor with clear pat-pat-pats, and her anxiety momentarily dissipates. She keeps walking, toward one of the mail slots, thinking “any second now, any second, I’m going to receive a flash and I’ll just know.” But still it doesn’t come.