Today has been a VERY good day! As promised, I received a promotion at work -- I'm now Master of Ceremonies for the venue! I called Jihoon to thank him for pulling the strings. "It was no trouble, really -- it seemed obvious to me you were qualified for better things than juggling." A lovely man, to be sure.
Of course, being Master of Ceremonies comes with a whole new set of responsibilities, chief among them being able to keep a crowd. I've been making sure to practice my speech skills every day. I know I'm not always the most eloquent of people, and I don't want to resort to speaking nonsense just to keep people's attention. (I may do that anyway, but I want it to be my choice.)
I've also kept up with my painting, which is going so well that I really feel like I've mastered the art. It's wonderful to see my old skills making a return, it really is. And it gives me hope that I might be able to make a living as an artist after I leave her. (I'll probably keep my old job for a while, of course, but while it can be fun, it's never been my favorite thing in the world. I'd much rather be painting pictures or writing books.)
The most wonderful thing is that the girls may be finally settling into a routine of taking care of themselves! No stove fires, limited bouts of random crying -- it's wonderful. Though not without a glitch or two -- Susie and Donna insisted on sitting in front of the stove talking for a hour, not letting anyone make lunch.
And Joy seemed convinced earlier that I could somehow read her diary while practicing my charisma from across the room. Poor woman -- I always had her down as one of the more stable ones. (. . .Then again, I've never seen her with a lampshade on her head or a flour sack baby in her arms, so really, thinking I'm a psychic diary snooper still leaves her as pretty stable.)
However, like I said, there were no major incidents -- and best of all, Miss Lampshade seems to have made a friend! She got a call today while I was out, and was still talking animatedly by the time I came home. Oh, it was good to see her smile! Maybe having someone outside the asylum to speak with will help her mind recover -- or at least keep the lampshades on the lamps.
Though I will express my desire that she doesn't tie up the phone all the time. I have people I like to talk to as well, and something deep inside me can't help but worry I missed a call from Victor. Ah well -- perhaps I'll contact him tomorrow.
In the meantime, further promotions will not earn themselves. So if you will excuse me, hypothetical reader, I'm off to lecture myself in the mirror about the impracticality of pearl necklaces.
. . .What, I'm not allowed to have fun while I practice?
. . .What, I'm not allowed to have fun while I practice?
Oh dear. After some time on the shores of normality, the women are flinging themselves back into the seas of madness again. Julie's got a flour baby now as well. Hers is Agatha. I have to say, I wasn't expecting her to crack like that. She'd always seemed one of the more stable girls in this place.
Equally shocking is Laura's plunge into the depths of insanity. I actually had very high hopes for her this morning -- she decided to make breakfast, and for once it WASN'T grilled cheese! She choose to attempt pancakes instead. Unfortunately, she burned them. Now, I was perfectly willing to ignore this -- even with an outer coating of cinders, they were better than more globs of melted cheese --
But Laura's reaction was to go out onto the street and start shrieking for alms because she wasn't going to amount to anything as a wife. Which -- all right, is a bit understandable, since anyone who's been in a madhouse is not likely to find a husband anytime soon, but -- over burnt pancakes? She eventually came to her senses, but I'm going to keep a closer eye on her.
I've taken to doing my yoga exercises outside by the street to get some peace and quiet. Inner calm is rather hard to achieve when you've got one person cooing to a bag of flour with a face and another dancing around with a lampshade on her head. And I've got to be fit to progress in my job -- a Master of Ceremonies has to visit every table and be ready for any emergency, after all.
I suppose I should be most grateful for the fact that no one shuns me around here -- that I can make friends with just anyone who passes by. I'm keeping up my acquaintance with Jihoon (having an inside line to my boss's desires is not something to be sneezed at), and of course I still call Victor regularly. I'm quite looking forward to when we can date properly, instead of just visiting each other's respective madhouses. Victor, in fact, has mentioned that perhaps we should get a house together after we're released.
I think I like that idea.
I think I like that idea.
Top of the list of things I do not wish to hear while I'm forcing down another breakfast of grilled cheese sandwiches: "I'm really surprised you managed to sleep through the kitchen fire this morning, Alice! We thought you'd have been out the door and to the next county once the flames started!"
Yes, the idiots who I am forced to share a home with have once again narrowly avoided setting said home on fire. Apparently breakfast had to be attempted twice because the stove kept trying to go up in flames. At this point (as I told American when she mentioned it), I think I'm immune to all fear of fire simply from sheer repetitiveness. (Though the fact that no one's died yet helps too -- proves to me they ARE survivable.)
Still, I'm thinking of putting a huge notice on the stove: WHEN THIS APPLIANCE IS DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE LETTING OFF VISIBLE GREEN FUMES, CLEAN IT BEFORE ATTEMPTING ANY COOKERY.
Oh, who am I kidding, the note would be cinders the very next time someone tried to make more grilled cheese on the grease-laden burner.
Oh, who am I kidding, the note would be cinders the very next time someone tried to make more grilled cheese on the grease-laden burner.
And honestly, the girls seem nervous enough around me without me making things worse. They seemed willing to discount the rumors about me at first, but with their own minds failing. . . I try to be friendly, I really do, it's just -- they try my patience, they really do. It's a vicious cycle, and one I'm not sure how to break, apart from continuing my efforts to escape.
At least I have other people to talk to. I called up Christian today, and we talked a bit about our jobs and the cost of living around here. It's good research for when I do move out. At least I make a decent income at my job -- and sharing with Victor will help lighten the load. Though maybe we should get an apartment together first, and work our way up to a house. I'll have to discuss it with him.
Speaking of work, I had the day off today, so I spent it improving my public speaking skills. I'm feeling quite charismatic these days, going around introducing myself to customers and telling them all about the acts of the night. I've been told I'm only two steps away from being considered at the top of the entertainment career, so I can't afford to slack off now. If I gain the prestigious role of Prestidigitator, then I'm almost certain to secure my release!
And I even seem to have gotten myself a good-luck charm on the way toward that lofty goal. I was digging in the yard for lack of anything better to do -- wondering if there might be anything interesting under the soil -- when my shovel hit something. Curious, I dug it up. . .
And it proved to be an old, discarded wishing doll! I cleaned it off and put it in the living room to everyone's amusement. Perhaps it's a bit silly, but having the little figure makes me feel even better about my chances of getting out of here. Hard work will take you anywhere in the world, but a little luck never hurts either.
Which is why I'm ending this entry here and going to make a wish on it. Let's hope it comes true.
Which is why I'm ending this entry here and going to make a wish on it. Let's hope it comes true.