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So I don't get flustered very easily, but I think it might have happened today. I was sitting in a side balcony in the Theatre Auditorium, computer dangling precariously off the edge of my lap. My right hand was jabbing away furiously at the arrow keys, trying to advance and retract my way through a series of Powerpoint slides that require precise timing but were settling for vague approximations. My left hand held a script that was always a page or two behind where it needed to be. It didn't really matter anyways because the lights kept going out and I couldn't see a goddamn thing. Voices poured through my headset and actors on stage were yelling unintelligible blurbs in my general direction. In the middle of this whirlwind, I believe I may have been flustered.

Flustered is a hard thing to explain. It rests somewhere between frustration and frantically dodging bullets in a Mexican firefight. Every second seems crucial, every decision far more important than it has a right to be. It's a barrage, but not one that you wish you weren't a part of. It's a slow motion action sequence without the slow motion.

Hmmm... according to dictionary.com, flustered is defined as "thrown into a state of agitated confusion". That's it. Simple. Categorical.

I always thought it was so much more.

So what was I feeling then?

Posted by Chris at 07:28 PM >> Commentations (4)