I keep writing blogs and I keep not posting them because they are very large and I don't really feel like finishing them at the time, but I have so very much to tell the world, mostly boring stuff, but still, it's important. Because I think my life is interesting. That's why I even have a blog. [Speaking of which, I'm thinking of changing the name to 'Cheese in your Raychillie.' But, it's been 'Rachel is Outrageous' for so long it almost feels like a sin to change it.]
Stupid education majors are in my CMC taking up my computers and talking loudly on the phone and talking to their boyfriends and sharing emails. I hate when people talk to their significant others in front of you, but only when they become very silly, and speak in goofy voices and call each other 'baby.' And you feel awkward watching them, and you just sit there feeling awkward, but you're in an elevator so what else can you do? It's so dumb. People are dumb. I hate people. One day, I'm going to go off and live in a colony of wizards and cats and I'll be so happy.
This girl put all her stuff on my computer table too, and it's like a bag of chips and some notebooks, and I thought the object of having your own computer desk is to put your stuff on. Education majors; all they do is think about themselves and children. Why do they even have their own section in the library? It's literally a whole floor dedicated to children and education majors. Everyone else's books are downstairs; what makes you so special?
For Susan's class we had to design a costume. It had 500 different pieces of criteria: it had to be made out of things either recycled or natural, it had to support a cause and it had to make noise. I did a pelican suit thing for the birds who die in oil spills or whatever, because it's important. It's also has an interpretive dance where you dance like a bird and then oil comes down from the celling and the bird dies because it cannot fly, and it's sad. I would invite children to this piece so the would cry and I would laugh at their tears.
I had to do my bird dance for the class while I was presenting it. It was very sad. Not because it was about birds dieing, but because it was me trying to dance like a bird.
But seriously, 5,000 barrels of oil leak into our oceans each day. This is why I petition that my quest to make algae into fuel will never end until it is made. And when I say 'my quest' I mean others efforts because I am not contributing at all.
Blast it all, I can't concentrate on anything because of these people talking about lesson plans and stuff. Just give them some crayons and a place mat. Gah. I'm supposed to be writing a paper on photography, and I can hardly even concentrate on this blog because they won't shut up about lessons and babies and ARGH.
What am I even typing, I dunno because my brain is like a ping-pong ball in my head, except my brain is bigger than that and isn't bouncy (that I know of; but possibly.)
Sometimes I wonder if I'm mentally handicapped, and I don't know it. I know that sounds mean, but how would you know. I might just have some social disease, or be autistic, but I would never know it. I had a seizure once, and it lasted for 20 minutes, and it could have been the mentally handicapped part coming out an d playing, and it's frightening. These are the thoughts that rack my brains.
I wish you could hook up your brain to a printer and then I would print off pictures that I imagine like pictures of turkey's wearing feather boas, and taking this girl's chips and crushing them and pouring them over her head and then I would laugh and then I would write my paper on photography. Instead, I'm writing this and wasting everyone's time by putting incoherent stuff that no one wants to read, and I'm pretty sure everything is a run-on sentence.
I would also like to print my dreams. I have really odd dreams. Once I dreamed that I was visiting the house of polygamist, and I was like, WHOO, I'M A FREE BIRD. I DANCE AND STUFF. And the children were all like, "we wear matching pajamas and we love our daddy and mommies, and we all play instruments and have bunk beds." And I'm like, "rebel," and they're like, "no." And then the dog starts talking and he talks about how he could talk through this vaccine, but when humans take it they turn into zombies, and then they cursed the house, and the dad was trying to round us all up so he could eat us and he had all sorts of bowls to put our bodies in, and I was like, "um, bye." But I couldn't get out because the porch was screened in and he had cut the dogs tongue out, but it was leading me to safety, and Justin Timberlake was there and then he was gone, but somehow I jumped from the porch into the grass and I ran and then I woke up.
I also have dreams where I'm an ice cave explorer.
We had ballet today, and I've finally stopped hitting Chris, but now he won't stop hitting me and it hurts because he flips me. He had some really nice turn things today, but I didn't because I don't know how to turn. She keeps telling me to spot; I keep saying, I should probably actually learn the turn first so I have a reason to spot. Chris can't keep his hips straight and he looks like an idiot because she has to tell him to put his hips straight. He blames it on his eye, or lack thereof; I blame it on his lack of ability regarding dancing. We're dance partners as well in our little piece, and we have to hold hands. (Ewww, cooties.). Luckily, his aren't gross and sweaty; because I hate sweaty hands.
Our ballet class is really rather amusing. It's a class of people who are generally bad a ballet, so we've resolved to just have fun with it. We have all these codes we use in class. When we have a passe to the side, we say that we're putting it in the pizza pocket. When it's to the front, it's the pita pocket. When we're doing our plies we kebab our butt cheeks and pretend like we're in a toaster, and you don't want to burn your sides. Then there are the songs we sing to remember our barres. "Coupe and Passe, Coupe, Fonduuuuu..."
This is college, ya'll.
[Pee.Ess. December 8th, Recital Thing. Breeze. 6 o'clock. See us make dance magic.]
After much, much, much persuasion, I have convinced Volpi and Chris to come see Harry Potter with me at midnight. I'm making us matching shirts; I'm going to guilt them into wearing them. They don't know it yet. I also had them sorted into their houses yesterday, because this is one of those things you need to know. Chris is in Ravenclaw and Volpi is in Slytherin. I'm a Gryffindor. Just imagine; if we went to Hogwarts, we may not even be friends. :( :( But maybe we would be. I'm sure both Volpi and Chris would play Quidditch; and... I wouldn't. I would probably be apart of some stupid club like Gobstones or Wizards Chess. Actually, Chris would be in his 5th year of Hogwarts just as I was starting my 1st, and Volpi wouldn't be in Hogwarts until I was in my 2nd year, and Chris his 6th. And Volpi and I would be enemies because we're in rival houses.
It's thoughts like these that remind me that I'm glad that I don't go to Hogwarts.
I had my dialects test Monday and everyone was impressed with my Cockney and Irish accents, including Claire. I was told today that Claire would try to break me in Acting II. I should just go in crying the first day and get it over with.
I need to write about photography now. Hope your days are bright and a squadron of minks warm you in the middle of the night.
-Me
Showing posts with label Dance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dance. Show all posts
12.10.10
Tiny Man; Dancing Cat
So, so, SO many things to talk about. Where to start; I DON'T KNOW. I guess I'll start on where I left off. The show went rather well. One girl, bless, messed up her line and let the entire audience know by saying 'Gosh' at the end. Afterwards, she was in such a tizzy that she nearly walked off into the recesses of backstage, when she was supposed to be on stage again. Yours truly saved the day in alerting her that she was needed on stage. Of course, she made up some sort of excuse about how she forgot to put her sweater on and she was going to do it, and then she remembered she had to be on stage, but you, I, and God know the truth, and we'll keep it that way.
I never messed up once thankfully. We did lose Chris' armhole in dressing one night, but we quickly found it, so all was well. Did I forget to mention that I quick-changed Chris for the show? Well I did. He stripped down to his skivvies and I put his costume over his head. I then folded all his clothes like amother-wife-secretary friend would do. I am such a good person; I should get a macaroni sculpture to acknowledge this.
During the show and before I would go back in the back and study French. By doing this I avoided doing any energy/focus exercises and therefore inevitably, making roof shingles out of my legs. I have learned more French this past week than I have all semester. I sort of wanted to join the fun of making a fool of myself in the group exercises; but in the end, my lack of confidence and utter fear that I would look stupid (no, I know. It makes no sense) overrode everything, so instead of looking stupid, I looked smart. Studying French. In the back. Alone.
:(
BUT. It was fun. Jack and Tim bought all the girls roses, and Chris ran out of balloons for this one scene. He asked me to get some at Party Zone while I was in Franklin, and I found a bag for $12.00 dollars. (!) So Chris now is the proud owner of more balloons than one man should ever need to possess. If he ever aspires to be a clown, he's set.
Jack, Tim and Volpsters would go outside and try to throw candy in each others mouth. The won some and lost some. Ew, and in one scene Chris had to carry raw meat, and it killed me because it smelt so raunchy and it was raw meat. Oh vomit.
OH. And there was a cast party.
Chris: Are you going?
Me: Where?
Chris: To the cast party.
Me: Do I need to go?
Chris: Have you ever been to a party?
Me: *whine commences* No. Do they drink? Is there drinking? Are they going to be sloshed? Are their drugs? Am I going to get raped? Will you watch me and make sure I'm alright?
Chris: Um, yes, yes, yes, yes, no and I am not responsible for you.
Me: *whining ever increasing* But Chris. I dunno. Do I need to go? I'm scared to go.
Chris:...
Me: But I've never gone to a party before. *small, nervous chuckle* Experience and what not, right? College...college is about parties, and I wouldn't drink, but I would feel uncomfortable, yes?
Chris: ...yes. You don't need to go Rachel. You need to go home, get some sleep and go to church tomorrow.
Me: *hysterical* Now you're mocking me!
Chris: No, I'm not. But you won't like it. I'm just going for a minute, telling everyone they did great, and then I'm leaving. I'll text you when I leave, and it'll be okay.
Me:...okay. *sniff*
So after more discussions on "you think I'm a prude," "no, I don't," etc., I tearfully hugged Chris bye, got in my car and left. Chris got home safely about 30 minutes later, and it wasn't that ragging yet, but I'm sure it became such.
Overall it was great fun, and I enjoyed it, all in all. I was complemented on my stage handiness, and it was suggested that I be Assistant Stage Manger for the next show. I have a "very level head and amazing focus."
One thing bothered me though, and I'm going to post my feelings on it in a public blog.
One girl sat in the hallway before the first show, doing tarot cards to predict the outcome of the show. I was about 2 yards away from her, reading my bible in preparation. And nearly everyone was drawn to her. She did readings for everyone, they could "feel the energy," some asked for private readings, etc. No one approached me.
This bothered me, perhaps, more than anything.
Isn't it funny how people flock to something like that vs the Bible? I know it all boils down to opinion, of what is right and what is wrong. And inevitably, to a 20 year old mindset, tarot cards are much more interesting than the Bible is.
Every night, I watched those actors and actresses nervously prepare themselves. Some of the chit-chatted, some of them buried themselves. And it made me wonder, what is it like to go through life alone? To know, that when you go up on that stage, it's all you. To not know that God is there to help, to give you the confidence and understanding to be the best you could ever possibly be. To know that, even when you mess up, God is still loves you.
What is it like to go through life and think it's all your fault something happened, and to carry the weight of things completely on your shoulders? To worry about things constantly and to think, "it's all on me." I've had the privilege of knowing God since infancy, and I couldn't tell you how this feels because I've always known God was there to help me get through these things. In this I am so entirely blessed and grateful. To know that there is hope regardless of what I've done or what the outcome looks to be.
After this night, while I drove home, I prayed for those poor kids. The play they participated in was not exactly clean or right, but, as Jesus Himself said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. (Luke 23:34)" I know I may not be the most wonderful witness, but, I am, in a way, all there is, so I must suffice. God's done more with worse than I, I'm sure.
Getting off the Biblical path, I went through some mysterious woods at Western. I was bored and had an hour to kill, so I drove over to the baseball fields. I found a creepy underpass, so I took it and then I found a creepy institutional building with creepy statues of children, and then I found a creepy trail in the woods and I took it. I got a little frightened, and I thought I heard people (I did. It was the band practicing) and I kept thinking some rapist or a gypsies clan, or a gypsy rapist was going to get me, but I trucked on and I ended up on some road, and I took it and I ended up somewhere and I found about 17 large above ground pool looking things, and on reflection, I think they may have had bodies for them for the body farm.
I eventually found my way out, but I want to go back and follow a mysterious road I found. Nothing takes away your worries like a scary hike in unknown woods alone.
Dance has been going well. (sort of) I made a 92% on my 40s dance thing, and Kayren said it was because I was just "so cute." Yet again, my cheese allows me to soar to new heights. Today, Jordan told Chris and Volpi that I looked adorable when I danced and they told him I looked more like a wild fire, destructing everything in my path. Gah, they're jealous.
Yesterday in Ballet, Chris took me aside and showed me how to do a glissade, because apparently he couldn't stand watching my failure any longer. On a brighter note, I made a 110% on my ballet vocabulary quiz. This shows that, although my body may not move all that well, I am a genius.
Here is a picture of a tiny man and his dancing cat:
I never messed up once thankfully. We did lose Chris' armhole in dressing one night, but we quickly found it, so all was well. Did I forget to mention that I quick-changed Chris for the show? Well I did. He stripped down to his skivvies and I put his costume over his head. I then folded all his clothes like a
During the show and before I would go back in the back and study French. By doing this I avoided doing any energy/focus exercises and therefore inevitably, making roof shingles out of my legs. I have learned more French this past week than I have all semester. I sort of wanted to join the fun of making a fool of myself in the group exercises; but in the end, my lack of confidence and utter fear that I would look stupid (no, I know. It makes no sense) overrode everything, so instead of looking stupid, I looked smart. Studying French. In the back. Alone.
:(
BUT. It was fun. Jack and Tim bought all the girls roses, and Chris ran out of balloons for this one scene. He asked me to get some at Party Zone while I was in Franklin, and I found a bag for $12.00 dollars. (!) So Chris now is the proud owner of more balloons than one man should ever need to possess. If he ever aspires to be a clown, he's set.
Jack, Tim and Volpsters would go outside and try to throw candy in each others mouth. The won some and lost some. Ew, and in one scene Chris had to carry raw meat, and it killed me because it smelt so raunchy and it was raw meat. Oh vomit.
OH. And there was a cast party.
Chris: Are you going?
Me: Where?
Chris: To the cast party.
Me: Do I need to go?
Chris: Have you ever been to a party?
Me: *whine commences* No. Do they drink? Is there drinking? Are they going to be sloshed? Are their drugs? Am I going to get raped? Will you watch me and make sure I'm alright?
Chris: Um, yes, yes, yes, yes, no and I am not responsible for you.
Me: *whining ever increasing* But Chris. I dunno. Do I need to go? I'm scared to go.
Chris:...
Me: But I've never gone to a party before. *small, nervous chuckle* Experience and what not, right? College...college is about parties, and I wouldn't drink, but I would feel uncomfortable, yes?
Chris: ...yes. You don't need to go Rachel. You need to go home, get some sleep and go to church tomorrow.
Me: *hysterical* Now you're mocking me!
Chris: No, I'm not. But you won't like it. I'm just going for a minute, telling everyone they did great, and then I'm leaving. I'll text you when I leave, and it'll be okay.
Me:...okay. *sniff*
So after more discussions on "you think I'm a prude," "no, I don't," etc., I tearfully hugged Chris bye, got in my car and left. Chris got home safely about 30 minutes later, and it wasn't that ragging yet, but I'm sure it became such.
Overall it was great fun, and I enjoyed it, all in all. I was complemented on my stage handiness, and it was suggested that I be Assistant Stage Manger for the next show. I have a "very level head and amazing focus."
One thing bothered me though, and I'm going to post my feelings on it in a public blog.
One girl sat in the hallway before the first show, doing tarot cards to predict the outcome of the show. I was about 2 yards away from her, reading my bible in preparation. And nearly everyone was drawn to her. She did readings for everyone, they could "feel the energy," some asked for private readings, etc. No one approached me.
This bothered me, perhaps, more than anything.
Isn't it funny how people flock to something like that vs the Bible? I know it all boils down to opinion, of what is right and what is wrong. And inevitably, to a 20 year old mindset, tarot cards are much more interesting than the Bible is.
Every night, I watched those actors and actresses nervously prepare themselves. Some of the chit-chatted, some of them buried themselves. And it made me wonder, what is it like to go through life alone? To know, that when you go up on that stage, it's all you. To not know that God is there to help, to give you the confidence and understanding to be the best you could ever possibly be. To know that, even when you mess up, God is still loves you.
What is it like to go through life and think it's all your fault something happened, and to carry the weight of things completely on your shoulders? To worry about things constantly and to think, "it's all on me." I've had the privilege of knowing God since infancy, and I couldn't tell you how this feels because I've always known God was there to help me get through these things. In this I am so entirely blessed and grateful. To know that there is hope regardless of what I've done or what the outcome looks to be.
After this night, while I drove home, I prayed for those poor kids. The play they participated in was not exactly clean or right, but, as Jesus Himself said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. (Luke 23:34)" I know I may not be the most wonderful witness, but, I am, in a way, all there is, so I must suffice. God's done more with worse than I, I'm sure.
Getting off the Biblical path, I went through some mysterious woods at Western. I was bored and had an hour to kill, so I drove over to the baseball fields. I found a creepy underpass, so I took it and then I found a creepy institutional building with creepy statues of children, and then I found a creepy trail in the woods and I took it. I got a little frightened, and I thought I heard people (I did. It was the band practicing) and I kept thinking some rapist or a gypsies clan, or a gypsy rapist was going to get me, but I trucked on and I ended up on some road, and I took it and I ended up somewhere and I found about 17 large above ground pool looking things, and on reflection, I think they may have had bodies for them for the body farm.
I eventually found my way out, but I want to go back and follow a mysterious road I found. Nothing takes away your worries like a scary hike in unknown woods alone.
Dance has been going well. (sort of) I made a 92% on my 40s dance thing, and Kayren said it was because I was just "so cute." Yet again, my cheese allows me to soar to new heights. Today, Jordan told Chris and Volpi that I looked adorable when I danced and they told him I looked more like a wild fire, destructing everything in my path. Gah, they're jealous.
Yesterday in Ballet, Chris took me aside and showed me how to do a glissade, because apparently he couldn't stand watching my failure any longer. On a brighter note, I made a 110% on my ballet vocabulary quiz. This shows that, although my body may not move all that well, I am a genius.
Here is a picture of a tiny man and his dancing cat:
Speaking of cats, I have grave, grave news. My beloved Smudge, the star of The Diary of Anne Frank passed away. It was all of a sudden; suddenly, he wouldn't move or eat, and Aunt Dale drove to our house to take him to the vet and he was gone, laying in front of Grandma's chair. I found out near the end of rehearsals on Thursday night. I began crying (I tried to stay in my cubby, but they found me) and all the actresses wiped my eyes and fixed my make up and hugged me, but then they had to go on stage, so Jaclyn took me outside and I cried all over her, and Chris found out and he hugged me for a long time while I slightly sobbed into him, and then during notes, he made hand puppets to make me feel better. I made a killer one that tried to eat his.
I miss Smudge dearly. He was a cat that didn't mind me when I dressed him up, and dragged him around and put him in boxes, and for that I am grateful. It's funny; I used to hate Smudge. He was my grandmother's cat, and when I came home from school, I would sit in front of the stove and he would lay with me. I was afraid to pet him because he liked to bite and scratch if you pet him too much, but eventually got up the nerve, and he learned to love me and I him. Once I was trying to trim the fur on his ears, and I accidentally cut a piece off, and it bled but he didn't notice, and I doctored it up.
Grandma always said, "if something happens to me, you get that cat." When she did pass away, they tried to give him to my Aunt Carolyn, but I pitched a fit. He was my cat. I won, eventually. He slept with me, and he had the most annoying purr, but I miss it now.
-Me
23.9.10
"Way to go Rachel. Way to steal our thunder."
Sitting here, before my art class begins, writing a blog. I have so many lovely things to discuss; not of any great importance, but there you go.
I actually got a "THAT WAS GOOD, RACHEL" on my Charleston dance. I'm convinced it's because I sold it. You know, cheesy smiles, over the top. Basically, my foray. Volpi and Chris were upset, because they had this epic ending planned. Instead of posing in some normal way at the end, they impersonated Narnia:
They did it about six more times so someone would notice, but I'm not sure if the ever did. So, for compensation, they are going to do it at the Dance Showcase. By themselves, and hopefully without the spandex.
They are currently on the quest of finding my blog; you, my readers, must make sure this never happens.
And Uncle Scotty; I loved your birthday message. It was my favourite; hence why it was listed first. I just told Brett that to make him feel significant in this world. P.S. I am very disturbed that you know how to find certain Vinylmations by the weight and resistance they have? That's just sad.
Speaking of obsessions, in French yesterday we had to describe what people from magazines were wearing. This one guy walks up, and he has a picture of Harry Potter. I have a nerd spasm of glee, and afterwards, I clap and shout "J'adore Harry Potter!" And then my professor gave it to me. It's from movie one, and it's from a French magazine, so it's like, a collectible in a way. It's on the front of my binder, along with the pictures of unicorns, and everything else that would indicate that I 12.
So, yesterday, we had our company meeting. This is how effective everyone is; we run into DV beforehand, and we're like, "well, see you at the meeting." And DV is like, "...what meeting?" So we told him, as they hadn't even bothered messaging the professors. :P
At the meeting, we discussed the light hang that is scheduled tomorrow - from 10:00 am to 11:00 pm.
...
Because a light hang in Niggli is going to take 13 hours. And they want everyone to buy a wrench for the affair. Chris and I were like, "well, we could always borrow one from Effie." But then, we thought that through, and decided, not so much.
What's even more funny is that we were talking and we realized that at the SMACPAC, Effie, Chris and Paul managed to hang an entire concert - as well as specials - on that massive stage within about 2 hours. And it's going to take 13 hours? If it's not done by the time I get there, these people need to find a new major.
I sat through a rehearsal last night - and it is so ironic. The people who know me, know that if anything, with my acting, I am over the top. I can control (sort of), if need be, but being big is what I do best. And, besides my raptorisms, this has been stated as my ever-loving flaw.
And, ironically, this show, is huge. The characters are huge; the acting is huge. Energy, clean movements, "bigger, faster, funnier," the whole shebang. They are doing well; but it's just ironic, because at auditions (and ever since I've entered college,) I have focused so much on not doing that. I still don't think I would have made it in; but all the same, it is just, well, ironic. I must have repeated that world 60 times, but it really explains the situation.
Regardless of how interesting rehearsal was last night, I will say that the pace monster needed to pay a big visit. For something like that to sell, and if you are doing that sort of over-the-top show, you HAVE to sell it, they are going to have to jump on the pace. I was also surprised by how many times "line" was called. Maybe I just am so used to being yelled at by a certain tyrant. I don't know. One of the scenes I saw consisted of some actors who had never really acted in a show there before, and this is the one where I found the most flaws, so I'm sure, with time, it'll improve.
I did get to sit in on Chris' scene, and it was very well done; pace, over the top, energy; all very nice. As much as I hate to admit it, Chris is a very good actor. Perhaps the best at WCU.
...of course, look who helped create him.
I'll stop there. I don't want your head to be able to fit into that massive football helmet.
Peter said I should come tonight as well, once it's a run through; and I might just do that after my French table. I dread it guys, because I am the WORST at pronouncing French. I made a C on my big project in regards to my pronunciation.
D:
Dialects is going very well. We had to read passages in Dialects, and while everyone else was told how to fix it in general, I received a "that was very good. Just work on this word..." I also got a "that's a very proper British; it's like Judi Dench." Which, is a very nice complement, and great on my part.
Like I said, dance, meh, not so much.
Design with Susan has been an experience these last two days. Tuesday she fell on the computer cord, which put her in a formidable mood. The best part about this though was the following conversation:
Susan: Sorry about that guys; Just took a little fall. We'll have the computer up and running in a minute.
Volpi: Who's the jerk who turned it off? Can't they see that the board obviously says 'don't unplug the computer?' Gahd, what a bunch of idiots.
Everyone else: Um, Volpi... it unplugged when she fell.
Volpi: ...
Later in the day, Chris and Volpi literally had to separate because of whispering. She said "I hear you two all the time, and today I just can't stand it." Ironically enough, they never sit together. Susan made Chris sit up front like we were in the 1st grade. She also flicks the lights for us when she wants us to be quiet.
This is college. *sigh*
The funny thing though, was this. Today we had a simple activity. Measure the room. The room is basically a rectangle, with a few windows and a few alcoves, but that covers it. We have to transfer the room onto a sheet of paper. We had a 1/4 in = 1 foot. So 1 in = 4 ft. Easy enough.
I had never seen a group of more frustrated people. It was like watching me in dance class. One girl literally had a breakdown, shouted "I can't stand this. I just can't stand this," and had to leave the class, they were so frustrated. Then they tried to convert inches into feet, which is as simple as dividing by 12, but they just couldn't figure it out. Add the 1/4 scale, and that created absolute chaos. The actors freaked out, the techies thought they had it all in control, but really made everything harder. So Chris and Volpi went and measured, while I explained all of this basic math to Jacklyn, and we intend on doing the project on our own.
It was in these moments as I blissfully enjoyed the gentle reliability of math, and I relished in the fact that there is something I excel at. I may not be able to do a chasse-ball-change; but I can solve a quadratic equation. I have no doubts that I am clever; and for this I am blessed. (As far as common sense is concerned...meh, not so much.)
For now, this is all I can think to write. I will post about my hippie experience later when I have the pictures. Someone took the liberty of filming the entire thing, so, I'll post that when it's up as well. I hope it's good.
-Me
I actually got a "THAT WAS GOOD, RACHEL" on my Charleston dance. I'm convinced it's because I sold it. You know, cheesy smiles, over the top. Basically, my foray. Volpi and Chris were upset, because they had this epic ending planned. Instead of posing in some normal way at the end, they impersonated Narnia:
Chris would be in front, as the polar bear; Volpi, in the back as the White Witch
They are currently on the quest of finding my blog; you, my readers, must make sure this never happens.
And Uncle Scotty; I loved your birthday message. It was my favourite; hence why it was listed first. I just told Brett that to make him feel significant in this world. P.S. I am very disturbed that you know how to find certain Vinylmations by the weight and resistance they have? That's just sad.
Speaking of obsessions, in French yesterday we had to describe what people from magazines were wearing. This one guy walks up, and he has a picture of Harry Potter. I have a nerd spasm of glee, and afterwards, I clap and shout "J'adore Harry Potter!" And then my professor gave it to me. It's from movie one, and it's from a French magazine, so it's like, a collectible in a way. It's on the front of my binder, along with the pictures of unicorns, and everything else that would indicate that I 12.
So, yesterday, we had our company meeting. This is how effective everyone is; we run into DV beforehand, and we're like, "well, see you at the meeting." And DV is like, "...what meeting?" So we told him, as they hadn't even bothered messaging the professors. :P
At the meeting, we discussed the light hang that is scheduled tomorrow - from 10:00 am to 11:00 pm.
...
Because a light hang in Niggli is going to take 13 hours. And they want everyone to buy a wrench for the affair. Chris and I were like, "well, we could always borrow one from Effie." But then, we thought that through, and decided, not so much.
What's even more funny is that we were talking and we realized that at the SMACPAC, Effie, Chris and Paul managed to hang an entire concert - as well as specials - on that massive stage within about 2 hours. And it's going to take 13 hours? If it's not done by the time I get there, these people need to find a new major.
I sat through a rehearsal last night - and it is so ironic. The people who know me, know that if anything, with my acting, I am over the top. I can control (sort of), if need be, but being big is what I do best. And, besides my raptorisms, this has been stated as my ever-loving flaw.
And, ironically, this show, is huge. The characters are huge; the acting is huge. Energy, clean movements, "bigger, faster, funnier," the whole shebang. They are doing well; but it's just ironic, because at auditions (and ever since I've entered college,) I have focused so much on not doing that. I still don't think I would have made it in; but all the same, it is just, well, ironic. I must have repeated that world 60 times, but it really explains the situation.
Regardless of how interesting rehearsal was last night, I will say that the pace monster needed to pay a big visit. For something like that to sell, and if you are doing that sort of over-the-top show, you HAVE to sell it, they are going to have to jump on the pace. I was also surprised by how many times "line" was called. Maybe I just am so used to being yelled at by a certain tyrant. I don't know. One of the scenes I saw consisted of some actors who had never really acted in a show there before, and this is the one where I found the most flaws, so I'm sure, with time, it'll improve.
I did get to sit in on Chris' scene, and it was very well done; pace, over the top, energy; all very nice. As much as I hate to admit it, Chris is a very good actor. Perhaps the best at WCU.
...of course, look who helped create him.
I'll stop there. I don't want your head to be able to fit into that massive football helmet.
Peter said I should come tonight as well, once it's a run through; and I might just do that after my French table. I dread it guys, because I am the WORST at pronouncing French. I made a C on my big project in regards to my pronunciation.
D:
Dialects is going very well. We had to read passages in Dialects, and while everyone else was told how to fix it in general, I received a "that was very good. Just work on this word..." I also got a "that's a very proper British; it's like Judi Dench." Which, is a very nice complement, and great on my part.
Like I said, dance, meh, not so much.
Design with Susan has been an experience these last two days. Tuesday she fell on the computer cord, which put her in a formidable mood. The best part about this though was the following conversation:
Susan: Sorry about that guys; Just took a little fall. We'll have the computer up and running in a minute.
Volpi: Who's the jerk who turned it off? Can't they see that the board obviously says 'don't unplug the computer?' Gahd, what a bunch of idiots.
Everyone else: Um, Volpi... it unplugged when she fell.
Volpi: ...
Later in the day, Chris and Volpi literally had to separate because of whispering. She said "I hear you two all the time, and today I just can't stand it." Ironically enough, they never sit together. Susan made Chris sit up front like we were in the 1st grade. She also flicks the lights for us when she wants us to be quiet.
This is college. *sigh*
The funny thing though, was this. Today we had a simple activity. Measure the room. The room is basically a rectangle, with a few windows and a few alcoves, but that covers it. We have to transfer the room onto a sheet of paper. We had a 1/4 in = 1 foot. So 1 in = 4 ft. Easy enough.
I had never seen a group of more frustrated people. It was like watching me in dance class. One girl literally had a breakdown, shouted "I can't stand this. I just can't stand this," and had to leave the class, they were so frustrated. Then they tried to convert inches into feet, which is as simple as dividing by 12, but they just couldn't figure it out. Add the 1/4 scale, and that created absolute chaos. The actors freaked out, the techies thought they had it all in control, but really made everything harder. So Chris and Volpi went and measured, while I explained all of this basic math to Jacklyn, and we intend on doing the project on our own.
It was in these moments as I blissfully enjoyed the gentle reliability of math, and I relished in the fact that there is something I excel at. I may not be able to do a chasse-ball-change; but I can solve a quadratic equation. I have no doubts that I am clever; and for this I am blessed. (As far as common sense is concerned...meh, not so much.)
For now, this is all I can think to write. I will post about my hippie experience later when I have the pictures. Someone took the liberty of filming the entire thing, so, I'll post that when it's up as well. I hope it's good.
-Me
22.9.10
"So, you were in that quesdo video, right?"
As I sit here in the CMC waiting for a meeting for the theatre company in which I am doing tech for, and as I patiently wait for so many good things to come, I reflect on many things.
First off, My Birthday.
20 years now, I have been alive. I received countless birthday wishes; but it doesn't help that facebook now reminds people of your birthday; thus you don't know how many people actually remembered, and how many people actually didn't.
A few of my favourite birthday greetings:
1. A text from Scotty saying: "Happy Birthday! Let's celebrate twenty years of nerdom - from one nerd to another." Okay, so just because I dress up for Harry Potter events, and collect Harry Potter memorabilia, and have a shrine of sorts in my room, that does not mean that I am a nerd. Do I own 52,343,122 tiny figurines of Micky Mouse? No. You have an obsession; I just have an interest and a hobby.
2. A voicemail from Brett, singing Happy Birthday - poorly. I had seen him earlier, and he had failed to say it (although everyone around him was saying it), so to compensate, he sang me a voice message. It made me laugh. A lot. Especially when he said, "I think you're twenty right."
3. A text from TJ Hanson: "Happy birthday Rachel!!! If you want me to kill anyone for you, its on the house today!" In which I stated, why yes, there is someone I want you to kill, and his name is Chris. In which he said, "So be it. Forsooth, I must slay my fellow syndicate comrade. With these hands Rachel...I will end him!" This is, by far, the most meaningful present I got my whole birthday.
4. A text from Abigail saying: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Kittens are Cuddly, And So Are You! Complete with pixilated pictures of roses and violets.
5. And lastly, after I told Chris to be sure to turn in some homework, and I got the following text: "Just turned them in. Happy birthday" It was so heartfelt, I nearly cried.
Thanks to everyone who made my day MY DAY. Because that is what it is. Some people are born great; others have greatness thrust upon them. I am both.
Dance - is dismal. There is really no other way to describe it. You remember that jazz combination I was talking about, where I was the one off, and what not? Well, we have class, and the teacher gives me a 'Congratulations' certificate for "Keeping It Moving" and "Good Energy." Basically to say, "Sorry that you made a 70, but don't give up!" Chris got one that said, "Keep Improving Baby," or something to that effect. He made an 86, which is depressing because he looks horrid dancing. Which makes me think, I must really look like a raptor. We have the Charleston tomorrow and none of us is looking forward to it.
Chris and Volpi are currently trying to find my blog; they will fail, fail, fail, and this is mainly because I do NOT want them to read it; because if they ever did, I would die. Perhaps I should edit that part about how I dream about them in a shower of queso.
Now, onto the important stuff, that I have been wanting to discuss.
First off, My Birthday.
20 years now, I have been alive. I received countless birthday wishes; but it doesn't help that facebook now reminds people of your birthday; thus you don't know how many people actually remembered, and how many people actually didn't.
A few of my favourite birthday greetings:
1. A text from Scotty saying: "Happy Birthday! Let's celebrate twenty years of nerdom - from one nerd to another." Okay, so just because I dress up for Harry Potter events, and collect Harry Potter memorabilia, and have a shrine of sorts in my room, that does not mean that I am a nerd. Do I own 52,343,122 tiny figurines of Micky Mouse? No. You have an obsession; I just have an interest and a hobby.
2. A voicemail from Brett, singing Happy Birthday - poorly. I had seen him earlier, and he had failed to say it (although everyone around him was saying it), so to compensate, he sang me a voice message. It made me laugh. A lot. Especially when he said, "I think you're twenty right."
3. A text from TJ Hanson: "Happy birthday Rachel!!! If you want me to kill anyone for you, its on the house today!" In which I stated, why yes, there is someone I want you to kill, and his name is Chris. In which he said, "So be it. Forsooth, I must slay my fellow syndicate comrade. With these hands Rachel...I will end him!" This is, by far, the most meaningful present I got my whole birthday.
4. A text from Abigail saying: Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, Kittens are Cuddly, And So Are You! Complete with pixilated pictures of roses and violets.
5. And lastly, after I told Chris to be sure to turn in some homework, and I got the following text: "Just turned them in. Happy birthday" It was so heartfelt, I nearly cried.
Thanks to everyone who made my day MY DAY. Because that is what it is. Some people are born great; others have greatness thrust upon them. I am both.
Dance - is dismal. There is really no other way to describe it. You remember that jazz combination I was talking about, where I was the one off, and what not? Well, we have class, and the teacher gives me a 'Congratulations' certificate for "Keeping It Moving" and "Good Energy." Basically to say, "Sorry that you made a 70, but don't give up!" Chris got one that said, "Keep Improving Baby," or something to that effect. He made an 86, which is depressing because he looks horrid dancing. Which makes me think, I must really look like a raptor. We have the Charleston tomorrow and none of us is looking forward to it.
Chris and Volpi are currently trying to find my blog; they will fail, fail, fail, and this is mainly because I do NOT want them to read it; because if they ever did, I would die. Perhaps I should edit that part about how I dream about them in a shower of queso.
Now, onto the important stuff, that I have been wanting to discuss.
You know, how I was in the dumps for having to part with my good friend Anne? Well, so much for that, because we became quickly reacquainted. I got a message in my inbox on my birthday, with a message asking me if I would like to do some readings from her diary for a city-sanctioned Peace Festival in Asheville. Of course:
Asheville + Peace Festival = Hippies.
But, I did it. I'll right a more in depth blog on the matter when Abigail posts her pictures that I can narrate to, but it was an experience, no doubt. But, more on that later.
For now, I have to continue to sit in the CMC while we watch this video of this girl who is apparently everyone's enemy. She is sort of silly and full of her self; but in a way, they all are too. But then again, they weren't naked in a video advertising queso, so take it for what it's worth.
-Me
31.8.10
So, why are you carrying a trapper keeper?
Okay, so whatever, I'm supposed to be doing dialects homework on Southern Accents, but I don't feel like it right now, and I'll do it soon; besides, I have a plethora of stuff to discuss.
Firstly: Auditions.
Saturday, I had auditions. For the theatre company thing at WCU. So, I had picked out 2 monologues, had learned them, refined them, did them in front of the Anne Frank cast, reworked them entirely after said experience, and I felt good. Not good enough to get in; but good.
So, I picked my outfit out, prepared myself in every way possible, updated my resume, took a new headshot:
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This is what you want a piece of, but can't have, loverssss.
Anyhoo, so I'm ready, and I go to said auditions. I get there an hour early, sign up to be fourth to get it over with and then go into the design lab to wait. Now, this is usually the part where I get super nervous and begin shaking; similar to that You're A Good Man Charlie Brown audition in the 9th grade. A brief recap:
I had never auditioned for singing before; terrified, I shuffle into the room. Mrs. Brooks is on the piano; Huck next to her. They sing something simple; something patriotic, but I do not remember because I was in shambles. He started singing the theme to the show. I muttered along with him. I was white as a sheet and they literally, literally asked me if I needed to go to the hospital.
Firstly: Auditions.
Saturday, I had auditions. For the theatre company thing at WCU. So, I had picked out 2 monologues, had learned them, refined them, did them in front of the Anne Frank cast, reworked them entirely after said experience, and I felt good. Not good enough to get in; but good.
So, I picked my outfit out, prepared myself in every way possible, updated my resume, took a new headshot:
.JPG)
This is what you want a piece of, but can't have, loverssss.
Anyhoo, so I'm ready, and I go to said auditions. I get there an hour early, sign up to be fourth to get it over with and then go into the design lab to wait. Now, this is usually the part where I get super nervous and begin shaking; similar to that You're A Good Man Charlie Brown audition in the 9th grade. A brief recap:
I had never auditioned for singing before; terrified, I shuffle into the room. Mrs. Brooks is on the piano; Huck next to her. They sing something simple; something patriotic, but I do not remember because I was in shambles. He started singing the theme to the show. I muttered along with him. I was white as a sheet and they literally, literally asked me if I needed to go to the hospital.
This is how my nerves are my enemy.
Something similar happened at my other audition; nerves got the better of me, and it was a disaster. This was the one where all I got was "...so. You've got nice stage presence...?"
So, in preparation for this, I brought my Bible. So basically; while everyone is pacing the room and the hallways, making weird guttural noises, nervously chattering among their friends, I'm busy sitting there reading my Bible. But, I will say that I was as calm as a leaf, and I knew, regardless, that Jesus was with me. I felt as if I had some hidden secret; something very many people lack.
So, they call me "on deck," which is where you wait outside the audition hall for your turn. I sit there, everyone else on deck paces, and I chit chat with the stage hand. Don't think I didn't have focus; I just felt overwhelmingly calm.
I went in, and I felt good. My three judges were friendly. I knew, in my heart, that I didn't really know what they wanted; but I knew what I knew, so I did the best I could. (which was all I asked for; It didn't feel right to ask to get in.)
After both my monologues, Peter asked me to redo part of my first one with a clear objective of desperation in mind. As I have previously stated, objectives are often foggy with me, but he was clear, and I was grateful. He told me I had focused too much on character, and not enough on said objective; which I agreed, because I'm horrible at objectives. I made choices; he was glad. We just needed to break my "musical theatre acting mode" which, is not necessarily a bad thing.
So, I did the monologue, and if I can say so, I did it very, very well. I got a laugh from DV for said monologue, and oh I rejoiced. DV then told me all about how I had evolved from Acting 1, and he could tell I had really worked on being less energetic and more natural. I was "on the right path" and had "improved leaps and bounds."
They didn't say anything about my Anne Frank monologue; which, I take it, meant it was wonderful. (And I did it the way I had learned it in rehearsals; Scotty for the win.)
Afterwards, I felt accomplished. I didn't feel as if I had gotten in; but I was happy with my feedback, grateful I could actually do it and not be scared, and blessed to know I was moving forward.
Saying all this, I got on the tech crew...
:(
Initially, I was upset. But, I began to count my blessings, and I realized that I am on the plus side of this situation. First off, I have God, which is more than can be said for a lot of them poor theatre kids. And although they are winning the parts now, I have the ultimate prize. How can anyone be remotely upset with that in mind?
As I told Chris, "When God closes a door, he opens a window." I know it's cliche, but I believe it.
Regardless, I still obtained the part of Anne in The Diary of Anne Frank so, at the end of the day, a few scenes in Niggli are nothing compared to playing the title character in a 1500 seat theatre. So, at the end of the day, who has come out on top? Inevitably, I am blessed. Thank you God, Thank you Scotty.
Speaking of Chris, he is in said company. He's in Peter's play Romantic Fools and plays, a caveman and a wedding planner. On hearing this, we had the following conversation:
Chris: I'm the caveman. (beat)
Me: Well that's good; good character role.
Chris: Yes, but Tim has already done it. When I went to the callbacks, they told me to do it exactly like how he did it. So I did. So, inevitably, it isn't even my character, but someone else's with a few minor changes.
Me: Well... at least you look like a Neanderthal.
Chris: If you say that again, I'm going to club you in the face.
Me: This coming from the guy who tells me at least twice a day that I have the most beautiful mustache? And why are you carrying a trapper keeper?
Chris: IT ISN'T A TRAPPER KEEPER! IT'S A HOLDER FOR MY HEADSHOTS! DO I LOOK LIKE I'M IN THE FIFTH GRADE? WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID?!
Of course from there, it went with the usual bickering: "Why are you a jerk, it's because you're so stupid, shut up, no you shut up, NO YOU SHUT UP, your mom told me to shut up last night, etc."
According to Mr. Negative, the whole system was flawed. The only reason he's in is because he's a favourite, and this is the reason lots of good people didn't get in is because of this. He's disappointed because these good people did not get in, he's mad because someone else got all 'his' roles, etc. etc. I can tell he's down; I can't imagine why, but I have a feeling it has something to do with keeping unrealistic expectations for too long and reality is looming it's ugly face. Either that or the spandex he wore the class earlier has made him irritable.
I'll be writing more later, but for the time being I have dialects, dialects, dialects and I have forgotten entirely how to score vowels. D: Which requires a dazzling amount of extra research, including reviewing voice and articulation again. Yuck.
Besides, this blog ended up being much too long, and went from a weird narrative, to immensely sentimental, to being full of aggravation. I leave you for now.
-Me
26.8.10
Bicycle Shorts
Have you ever reached a point where you're so tired that you're unaware that your tired, but then your realize, "hey, I'm tired."
Well, that's me. I am exhausted. Dance classes every day (my body is old, ya'll), rehearsal every night, theater functions that require me to mingle with people, etc. But, regardless of all of this, I am very, very, very happy. Can I explain the great parts of my days to you? Well, I'm going to anyway.
Yesterday, the theatre department had a cook out. I went and ate a hotdog, although I hate hotdogs. It was very fun, and I felt my 2 years of awkwardness slowly vanish. I found myself talking to people, and driving people, and talking. And eating with people and talking, and dear me, it was amazing. I'm amazed in the strength I can have when I have a little faith.
Regardless, today was more fun.
I get in class today at 8. It's design. Susan has us take our headshots and cut them up. I cut off my double chin, because the only headshot I could find was from my freshman year, when I had a double chin. (You know, the infamous fridge picture). I was fat then.
I also wore colourful eyeshadow.
Today, in jazz, was the treat. I'm already better at what we learned Tuesday, which shows me that I am a fast learner, just not a fast executioner. But, the funny part came when the boys were told that they HAD to wear tights or bicycle shorts and a dance belt. And although I don't know what a dance belt looks like, I know what it is used for. Infer for yourself.
Anyhoo, I was siting stretching, when out Chris comes in a pair of spandex bicycle shorts. I went up to him and laughed at him for a solid minute. He promptly sat down and hid everything. I laughed a little more. Then I told him he didn't look so bad because I didn't want to hurt his feelings, and I could tell he was self-conscious. And he really didn't look that bad, just ridiculous.
It wasn't so bad from behind. *shrug* I also told him this so he would feel better about himself. If it had the desired affect is debatable, but judging from my basic intuition, it did.
Apparently he was cornered by the teacher for wearing his standard, modest bottoms. So, you do what you have to do, I suppose.
After dancing (me being pulled out again for lack of coordination), Chris (sans shorts), me, and one of Chris' friends, Volpi, went walking and we stopped by my old acting teachers office. You remember, DV. Chris is basically in love with him, and DV shares a similar fondness for Chris. For some reason, everyone loves Chris, making it their personal goal to befriend him. It's sad really, because very few people know what a true jerk he is.
Anyhoo, we all went in the office and I sat down and sat in the corner, and DV was fabulously kind to me, and he asked what I had been doing, and I was very excited because I think he may be starting to like me.
I dunno, whatever, it was exciting.
So then we went to lunch, I served Volpi a little Jesus along side a BLT panini. I said someone needed Jesus, and then I asked him if he had Jesus, and he said, "Not... really." And Chris told him that was the wrong answer because I've already given Chris the Jesus talk several times. But I was kind and I told him that regardless I would pray for him and that his life would be blessed, but not in that creepy way that some Christians do it. Or in that way that makes someone feel inferior or uncomfortable. Speaking of serving Jesus, Amanda singled me out. Glad someone recognizes my greatness.
Wait, I'm trying to be humble now. I am nothing. But awesome.
(Okay, I'll work on that)
My friend Jenny is mad at me though because I went and ate with them instead. :( If feel sad because of this, but I apologized and I'll draw her a picture of horses to compensate for my lack of consideration.
I say au revoir, because I have a little french due for the morrow, and, for my free night, I plan to beat the turtles out of my script. Enjoy life. Eat pizza and get some rest.
-Me.
24.8.10
The dust storm.
Soo...
I'm supposed to be doing french, but whatever. Le futur can wait, for it's blog time. And my daily ramblings are much more important than an education, yes? Yes.
So, today, I had jazz class.
If I could say I have singularly failed at something, this would be it.
Now, in part, I will say the teacher is at slight fault. Her method of 'teaching' is by saying, okay do this, now do it. It's very fast pace. And she just taught the warm-up today. And I still have no clue what it is. The poor teacher's aid had to come especially to me and do it over, and over, and over. And then that made me feel bad because I always secretly hated her because she constantly purses her lips and always looks in the mirror. Forgive me for judging. :(
Anyhoo, it was a disaster. Just keep the faith Rachel. Rome wasn't built in a day. Or was it?
Ooo, and design class today. It's like a 3rd grade art class; and I have to buy watercolours. (?) We have to buy so much; luckily, I'm highly artistic, so I already have nearly everything. I bet you didn't know I was so multifaceted.
Tomorrow we have a big theatre cook out. After neglecting to go for years, I am putting on my summer shorts and I'm going to go. They'll have food. Free food. You understand the appeal.
Even if it is hotdogs. Blegh.
They'll probably play something like Frisbee, which I hate and won't play because I hate it. But I'll look, and gaze, clap occasionally and listen to endless conversations on the subject of "me." Smile, nod, and agree that they are, indeed, a unique gem, and that success was created for them.
:) I do have a fondness for them, bless. They just need Jesus, and I'm here to serve him. That was a play on words. Serve, as in to follow him, and serve, as to serve on a plate with a side of fries. Not literally, of course, but as in to dish out Jesus, pass him around, etc. I better stop; I think this is starting to sound unintentionally blasphemous.
I love you Jesus.
Nikki made a really good cake for Michelle's birthday. I ate 2 pieces. It made me happy. She served it with Jesus too. Because I'm not the only one who serves Jesus.
J'ai aller. Parce que, Je etudierai le futur. Comme ce, comme ca. Au revoir, mon petit chou-chous!*
*I have to go. Because, I am going to study the future. So, so. Good bye, my little cabage-cabage.
-Me
I'm supposed to be doing french, but whatever. Le futur can wait, for it's blog time. And my daily ramblings are much more important than an education, yes? Yes.
So, today, I had jazz class.
If I could say I have singularly failed at something, this would be it.
Now, in part, I will say the teacher is at slight fault. Her method of 'teaching' is by saying, okay do this, now do it. It's very fast pace. And she just taught the warm-up today. And I still have no clue what it is. The poor teacher's aid had to come especially to me and do it over, and over, and over. And then that made me feel bad because I always secretly hated her because she constantly purses her lips and always looks in the mirror. Forgive me for judging. :(
Anyhoo, it was a disaster. Just keep the faith Rachel. Rome wasn't built in a day. Or was it?
Ooo, and design class today. It's like a 3rd grade art class; and I have to buy watercolours. (?) We have to buy so much; luckily, I'm highly artistic, so I already have nearly everything. I bet you didn't know I was so multifaceted.
Tomorrow we have a big theatre cook out. After neglecting to go for years, I am putting on my summer shorts and I'm going to go. They'll have food. Free food. You understand the appeal.
Even if it is hotdogs. Blegh.
They'll probably play something like Frisbee, which I hate and won't play because I hate it. But I'll look, and gaze, clap occasionally and listen to endless conversations on the subject of "me." Smile, nod, and agree that they are, indeed, a unique gem, and that success was created for them.
:) I do have a fondness for them, bless. They just need Jesus, and I'm here to serve him. That was a play on words. Serve, as in to follow him, and serve, as to serve on a plate with a side of fries. Not literally, of course, but as in to dish out Jesus, pass him around, etc. I better stop; I think this is starting to sound unintentionally blasphemous.
I love you Jesus.
Nikki made a really good cake for Michelle's birthday. I ate 2 pieces. It made me happy. She served it with Jesus too. Because I'm not the only one who serves Jesus.
J'ai aller. Parce que, Je etudierai le futur. Comme ce, comme ca. Au revoir, mon petit chou-chous!*
*I have to go. Because, I am going to study the future. So, so. Good bye, my little cabage-cabage.
-Me
15.4.10
I would be the dead prisoner.
So, when was the last time I wrote a blog...? I have no idea.
Why the abandonment? Well, it has something mighty to do with college. Anymore, I am always so very, very, very busy. Not with anything important mind you, just stuff. For example, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 11 I eat with Troy. We eat at this taco joint every MWF off campus. Troy's current obsession is being fit, so while he gets a whole wheat burrito with grilled onions and spinach (no, seriously), I get to eat his chips because he has to be fit. He always gives me good chips too, so I usually get double the chips.
This is what my life consists of.
So at night, I have this problem where I stay sleepy all day (especially right after school) and I just want to nap, but I want to sleep at night. So I don't sleep. But then, at night, I go to sleep and it takes me like, and hour to fall asleep. Mind you, I get all rilled up because I imagine things (mainly living at Hogwarts) and I get excited and I can't sleep, but eventually I have to just relax and sleep. It's frustrating.
I've also gained this new love for any blue sports drink. If it's blue, and a sports drink, I will devour it.
So, I am currently in Joesph and the...whatever. The title is too long. You know what I speak of. It is such a fun show... but very, very exhausting. I'm a fairly fit person (yes, yes, I know, I don't look it, I'm so fat, etc.) but when "Poor Poor Joesph" rolls around I want to collapse. Although, my favourite scene is "Close Every Door To Me" because I lay on the floor. It so relaxing. Just don't be surprised if I end up playing the dead rotten prisoner.
And may I say, I am immensely impressed with how magnificent my solo is in "Go Go Joesph". Why, I daresay I embody that man. "Hey Dreamer..."
And, my dancing has sort of improved, right?
So, yeah, lets talk about College.
COLLEGE.
I LOVE college. I'm not particularly good at it, I have a handful of friends, but I really do enjoy it. I am beyond ready for summer though. All these papers are pilling up. I have to design all of The Glass Menagerie for an Honours Contract, I have a French skit, I have to write a lesson plan on Death of a Salesman and I an ecology paper, another honours contract in Francais. I love French though. I won't say I'm good at it; in fact, I'm dismal. But I have always enjoyed it immensely. -OR- Mais, Je me suis amuse quand parle francais.
Okay, so that is actually saying, But I have always enjoyed myself when speaking French, but more or less, its the same. My vocabulary is limited, okay?
I also have Voice and Articulation, which is hard. Seriously, I am awful awful at it. We're talking about 71 awful. Something about voiced vowels throws me crazy. Do I score it, do I not? Lessac, your books pictures are funny, may I at least colour in their pupils? I can at least say I'm decent at the NG Oboe. Like I got the whole section right. *note: it was the only section I got entirely right. That and the "is it unvoiced or voiced" section and the cognates section. Linking easy as pie. Seriously, I want to kiss it it's so easy next to scoring. Vowels, meh, I don't know. I haven't done the homework yet.
I also have Dr. Beam. We are kindred spirits. There is no denying it at this point. He has the vest that says 'WADA' on it, and I was the only one who knew what it meant. You know what it meant? "Wizardry Academy of Dramatic Arts." From Harry Potter. Yes. Dr. Beam is a Potterphile. Like obsessive too. On his door, it has the Hogwarts crest and says, "Dr. Richard S. Beam - Professor of Theatre Wizardry."
He's tries to out Potter me sometimes, but, because it is impossible, I've mauled him. Or shall I say, I've stupify-ed him.
Right now I say au revoir, for I have to go get my hair trimmed. I hope you are all dazzling, and I hope the wood nymphs treat you kindly.
Yours truly,
-Me
20.10.09
Am I dead? Nope, just anti-social.
It has been forever since I've posted a blog; my last being a picture of Everett [a curse within it's self] Maybe this gentleman has possessed my desire to write; I dunno, but it's been too long since I've wrote a novella.
Although I daresay, I do a couple of excuses as to why I haven't written in so long:
A. COLLEGE
B. Job Over Summer
C. Laziness
I'll admit, I've been lazy when it comes to this. But I'll also say that they're have been other things as well. That, and I always have the need to write a whole lotta stuff, so it's best if I do it in one sitting with two hours to spare.
So, let's discuss the one thing everyone always asks:
HOW'S SCHOOL?
School is actually, quite good. I am please to say that I feel as if I fit in with the whole jive of it all. Firstly, I am not in a new situation anymore. Believe it or not, I am actually a rather shy person when thrusted in a completely new situation. It's not longer new; therefore, I no longer care what others think of me. If I want to skip to class wearing a windbreaker and humming showtunes [which happens more than often], so be it. And it's never that I have never been myself; it's just I can express it more openly now.
I participated in my first audition at Western which was [from my perspective, and I'm pretty sure it was in general] a disaster. It was for the program, or whatever, but I bombed it. Here is the adventure of it all.
I was told Monday about this audition; Auditions were friday. No audition; no more participation in the program. Yikes. So, I decided, it was time to overcome all inhabitions and do it. Scrounged up a monologue, practiced it, but, never really had the time to work on it. It wasn't particuarly good; but I had to have SOMETHING. So, the time comes to print my headshot [the day of, mind you.] and everywhere at Wal*Mart was packed. So I headed over to Western, in plans to just print it on the regular printer, when I learn that the library printers are down. If Troy has ever told the story of me when my paper was late and the machine wouldn't take my change and I colapsed in tears in front of it, I was more or less going that direction at this point. God then sent me Chris, who graciously, and without me asking him, took my SD card and drove down to Wal*Mart to print it for me.
So at this point I was still a disaster from the upheavel of it all and nervous, but I made it in time and Chris came back in time with my headshot, but I still want to barf. I feel pretty good until I walk in the doors and then I'm terrified to the upmost. I get up there, do my monologue [which was a disaster in it's self.], and get back "You've got great stage presence." Which I was thankful for right there. Thank God [and I don't mean that in vain] I didn't get something like, "so, what would you do if you didn't get in the program." Yikes.
They gave me some other not so good comments, but still, I was immensly thankful that everything turned out the way it did. I have this theory that we don't fully appriciate things if they are simply handed to us. It's the process that makes us greatful and humble. My whole life is one of processes for some reason; I'm never perfect at something on the first go, sadly.
Shockingly, after this audition, I wasn't depressed or upset or anything. I was elated. Their was hope. I was 100% certain I hadn't got in the program, but I trusted God in whatever may happen, be it yes or no.
But, despite all this, I have delightful news:
I got into the BA Program.
Mind you, it's not the BFA, but, it's the next best thing, and it's progress and hope for me. I am just so thankful I can hardly potray this thankfulness.
In next news, I have three theatre classes [which is all I'm really going to talk about, because they are my favourites, although I shall mention Troy, Me, and Chemistry.]
Ironically, two of these classes involve body and movement. Me + Body Movement = This
So, it's safe and completely honest to say that I am forever ranking in the most corrected student in the class. Although, I will talk about one of my biggest peeves in this point. So many, many kids in that class complain about how they "can't do it," because they have bad knees, or the broke their leg when they were 6, or because of vollyball they can't do this and...
Just shut up.
Why can't people just be honest and say, "I can't do it because I don't understand." You have to at least try it to the upmost. "Can't never could do nothing," to quote my mom. There is lots of stuff I can't do; but it's not because I have some "injury" that has left me forever handicapped. And at least I put my all in trying to make it right.
What has happened to drive? I get in so many groups anymore and they're like, okay, so that's good; let's leave it at that. But I'm like, but let's practice it again. Let's do it again. But no one wants to. Everyone wants to just half-ankle everything. *le sigh*
Anyhoo:
StageMovement:
8 o'clock in the morning. Ugh. But, I wake up at 4. Luckly, this class is only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have this with my former acting teacher. Every other day, we learn the following: Stage Combat and Suzki.
Firstly, Stage Combat. Of course, I'm not very good at it. And I'm not fishing, I'm really not. There are a few parts I am good at, but when it comes to boxer stances, and not being "a cartoon," I epically fail. And kicking; I'm terrable at it as well. And I make the goofiest sound effects. I have also been compaired to a worm when I move. *sigh*
But, I think I'm getting better on the hair pull and the choking, and there is one thing that I forget what is, but I actually got a "Good Job," on it. And the soft contact punch is improving.
But I still have to do mine over about 10 times while everyone else does it twice. And I usually get a, "just work on it." But I still have faith in myself and God that we'll get it done.
Secondly; Suzuki.
...
...
...
D:
I realize it'll probably help me later on; and it is fun. But I feel so silly doing it. We spend 3 minutes stomping across the floor, with completely cool faces and hands, while this absurd Asian Swing song plays for us. Then we collapse and get up, slowly, and "like taffy being pulled," we walk across the floor with our arms in poses.
I also the most sucessful in regaining the title of the only one who cannot get the taffything right. I have a stomp to my movement. But I feel as if it getting better... maybe.
We also get in all these strange poses and then we have to recite a line together. Crisply at that too. But mine is always like, "ohsplenderofsunbursttbreakkking...."
O, I'm sure I'm not as bad as I think. But, I'd rather be neutral about it. At least there is always room for improvement in the neutral zone. And DV is truely a good teacher; he makes sure to help me be aware of all my imperfections and tends to have paitence when I keep doing them even though I think I'm not.
Dance:
Modern: is hillarious. We have TUNICS. We have to lead with our bodies; arms follow. Although mine is more like, body leads, and hips follow. It's all this method by Isadora Duncan. I actually, can truely say I'm not that bad in modern. I am rarely corrected in there. But, oddly, I'm not too crazy about it.
We also spend roughly half of Modern Mondays wallowing on the floor. Getting in touch with our, inner energy or something.
We also have all these EXPRESSING EMOTIONS improv exersises. I usually express my desire for food, eatting too much food, the glory of food, and the general radience of food.
Ballet: On the other hand, is so much fun. I have little ballet shoes [they are, my pride and joy], and leotards and all kinds of dancey stuff. I have this terriable habbit though, when I go into my Plie [every time guys], of jutting my rear out. Always corrected on that one. I am also terrable at jumps in fourth, and my arms never tend to do what they are told. And I am usually singled out to do it again. Luckly, I am NEVER embarissed and I am greatful someone is taking time to help me with my inperfections. [Rachel, when did you become so optimistic?!]
And my grand battment is absolutly gorgous if I dare say so my self. And everything is improving it's self DRASTICALLY. Practice, practice, practice.
Make-Up:
I am very good at make-up. I feel great about make-up. It's like, all those hours spent on my huzzy make-up have finally paid off [which I can now inform you all that I can do my everyday make-up at an allarming rate now. No more 2 hours business. 15 minutes tops.]. I can now make myself look old, middle aged, glamorized and today we're doing fantasy (ooo). And I am never supervised. I am always left to my own.
:)
Yay, yay, yay.
These two hands are the tools, and this face is the putty in which they shall make beautiful.
Now: Troy, Me, and Chemistry
If you were to ask me anything about the class, I couldn't tell you anything. Because I am never, ever, paying attention. I admit it. Part 1. Because our teacher really has no idea. Part 2. It's boring, and part 3, Troy. Troy takes it upon himself to draw me various Harry Potters in various situations [always forgeting the lightning bolt and mispelling the spells.] such as Harry Potter as a racecar driver, or Harry Potter sining keroke. Then I make songs up to broadway tunes about his asian heritage [including squinty eyes, and eating cats with chopsticks].
Although I daresay, I do a couple of excuses as to why I haven't written in so long:
A. COLLEGE
B. Job Over Summer
C. Laziness
I'll admit, I've been lazy when it comes to this. But I'll also say that they're have been other things as well. That, and I always have the need to write a whole lotta stuff, so it's best if I do it in one sitting with two hours to spare.
So, let's discuss the one thing everyone always asks:
HOW'S SCHOOL?
School is actually, quite good. I am please to say that I feel as if I fit in with the whole jive of it all. Firstly, I am not in a new situation anymore. Believe it or not, I am actually a rather shy person when thrusted in a completely new situation. It's not longer new; therefore, I no longer care what others think of me. If I want to skip to class wearing a windbreaker and humming showtunes [which happens more than often], so be it. And it's never that I have never been myself; it's just I can express it more openly now.
I participated in my first audition at Western which was [from my perspective, and I'm pretty sure it was in general] a disaster. It was for the program, or whatever, but I bombed it. Here is the adventure of it all.
I was told Monday about this audition; Auditions were friday. No audition; no more participation in the program. Yikes. So, I decided, it was time to overcome all inhabitions and do it. Scrounged up a monologue, practiced it, but, never really had the time to work on it. It wasn't particuarly good; but I had to have SOMETHING. So, the time comes to print my headshot [the day of, mind you.] and everywhere at Wal*Mart was packed. So I headed over to Western, in plans to just print it on the regular printer, when I learn that the library printers are down. If Troy has ever told the story of me when my paper was late and the machine wouldn't take my change and I colapsed in tears in front of it, I was more or less going that direction at this point. God then sent me Chris, who graciously, and without me asking him, took my SD card and drove down to Wal*Mart to print it for me.
So at this point I was still a disaster from the upheavel of it all and nervous, but I made it in time and Chris came back in time with my headshot, but I still want to barf. I feel pretty good until I walk in the doors and then I'm terrified to the upmost. I get up there, do my monologue [which was a disaster in it's self.], and get back "You've got great stage presence." Which I was thankful for right there. Thank God [and I don't mean that in vain] I didn't get something like, "so, what would you do if you didn't get in the program." Yikes.
They gave me some other not so good comments, but still, I was immensly thankful that everything turned out the way it did. I have this theory that we don't fully appriciate things if they are simply handed to us. It's the process that makes us greatful and humble. My whole life is one of processes for some reason; I'm never perfect at something on the first go, sadly.
Shockingly, after this audition, I wasn't depressed or upset or anything. I was elated. Their was hope. I was 100% certain I hadn't got in the program, but I trusted God in whatever may happen, be it yes or no.
But, despite all this, I have delightful news:
I got into the BA Program.
Mind you, it's not the BFA, but, it's the next best thing, and it's progress and hope for me. I am just so thankful I can hardly potray this thankfulness.
In next news, I have three theatre classes [which is all I'm really going to talk about, because they are my favourites, although I shall mention Troy, Me, and Chemistry.]
Ironically, two of these classes involve body and movement. Me + Body Movement = This
So, it's safe and completely honest to say that I am forever ranking in the most corrected student in the class. Although, I will talk about one of my biggest peeves in this point. So many, many kids in that class complain about how they "can't do it," because they have bad knees, or the broke their leg when they were 6, or because of vollyball they can't do this and...
Just shut up.
Why can't people just be honest and say, "I can't do it because I don't understand." You have to at least try it to the upmost. "Can't never could do nothing," to quote my mom. There is lots of stuff I can't do; but it's not because I have some "injury" that has left me forever handicapped. And at least I put my all in trying to make it right.
What has happened to drive? I get in so many groups anymore and they're like, okay, so that's good; let's leave it at that. But I'm like, but let's practice it again. Let's do it again. But no one wants to. Everyone wants to just half-ankle everything. *le sigh*
Anyhoo:
StageMovement:
8 o'clock in the morning. Ugh. But, I wake up at 4. Luckly, this class is only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I have this with my former acting teacher. Every other day, we learn the following: Stage Combat and Suzki.
Firstly, Stage Combat. Of course, I'm not very good at it. And I'm not fishing, I'm really not. There are a few parts I am good at, but when it comes to boxer stances, and not being "a cartoon," I epically fail. And kicking; I'm terrable at it as well. And I make the goofiest sound effects. I have also been compaired to a worm when I move. *sigh*
But, I think I'm getting better on the hair pull and the choking, and there is one thing that I forget what is, but I actually got a "Good Job," on it. And the soft contact punch is improving.
But I still have to do mine over about 10 times while everyone else does it twice. And I usually get a, "just work on it." But I still have faith in myself and God that we'll get it done.
Secondly; Suzuki.
...
...
...
D:
I realize it'll probably help me later on; and it is fun. But I feel so silly doing it. We spend 3 minutes stomping across the floor, with completely cool faces and hands, while this absurd Asian Swing song plays for us. Then we collapse and get up, slowly, and "like taffy being pulled," we walk across the floor with our arms in poses.
I also the most sucessful in regaining the title of the only one who cannot get the taffything right. I have a stomp to my movement. But I feel as if it getting better... maybe.
We also get in all these strange poses and then we have to recite a line together. Crisply at that too. But mine is always like, "ohsplenderofsunbursttbreakkking...."
O, I'm sure I'm not as bad as I think. But, I'd rather be neutral about it. At least there is always room for improvement in the neutral zone. And DV is truely a good teacher; he makes sure to help me be aware of all my imperfections and tends to have paitence when I keep doing them even though I think I'm not.
Dance:
Modern: is hillarious. We have TUNICS. We have to lead with our bodies; arms follow. Although mine is more like, body leads, and hips follow. It's all this method by Isadora Duncan. I actually, can truely say I'm not that bad in modern. I am rarely corrected in there. But, oddly, I'm not too crazy about it.
We also spend roughly half of Modern Mondays wallowing on the floor. Getting in touch with our, inner energy or something.
We also have all these EXPRESSING EMOTIONS improv exersises. I usually express my desire for food, eatting too much food, the glory of food, and the general radience of food.
Ballet: On the other hand, is so much fun. I have little ballet shoes [they are, my pride and joy], and leotards and all kinds of dancey stuff. I have this terriable habbit though, when I go into my Plie [every time guys], of jutting my rear out. Always corrected on that one. I am also terrable at jumps in fourth, and my arms never tend to do what they are told. And I am usually singled out to do it again. Luckly, I am NEVER embarissed and I am greatful someone is taking time to help me with my inperfections. [Rachel, when did you become so optimistic?!]
And my grand battment is absolutly gorgous if I dare say so my self. And everything is improving it's self DRASTICALLY. Practice, practice, practice.
Make-Up:
I am very good at make-up. I feel great about make-up. It's like, all those hours spent on my huzzy make-up have finally paid off [which I can now inform you all that I can do my everyday make-up at an allarming rate now. No more 2 hours business. 15 minutes tops.]. I can now make myself look old, middle aged, glamorized and today we're doing fantasy (ooo). And I am never supervised. I am always left to my own.
:)
Yay, yay, yay.
These two hands are the tools, and this face is the putty in which they shall make beautiful.
Now: Troy, Me, and Chemistry
If you were to ask me anything about the class, I couldn't tell you anything. Because I am never, ever, paying attention. I admit it. Part 1. Because our teacher really has no idea. Part 2. It's boring, and part 3, Troy. Troy takes it upon himself to draw me various Harry Potters in various situations [always forgeting the lightning bolt and mispelling the spells.] such as Harry Potter as a racecar driver, or Harry Potter sining keroke. Then I make songs up to broadway tunes about his asian heritage [including squinty eyes, and eating cats with chopsticks].
And that's all I have to say about classes [for right now.] I was going to go into my social life, [i.e. I miss Kelly, I miss my job and everyone incorperated in it. Alright, I'll admit, I miss Scotty. And his cuttout. And actually eatting. Chris is a moody beast (okay, so he's not that bad, but he can be cranky. But if he got in bed at a resonable hour, that might solve some of that.), Abigail's my BF (Best friend or Boyfriend, either/or because we did go out on a date.), Alex went to Church with me (twice!), etc.] but I have not the time for it. So, that'll be seperate I reckon. Or it'll go into the other pile that includes the review of Peter Pan. Which is finished, just never posted. :(
Anyhoo, I have 10 minutes and I have to go to Make-Up. Love all around.
-Me
21.5.09
To Be A Cantalope
NO
If Miley Cyrus gets Ariel Moore I will vomit all over the reel and request that they do it over.
No. No. No.
Regarding Twilight:
HEYS LOOK YOU GUYS A NEW POSTER
I love how Bells is all up in Jacob's space. And Edward like, cries a tear. Well technically no, because vampires can't cry, but he I suppose he can dry sob or whatever.
Oh and Breaking Dawn has been confirmed as a movie, so the whole, Cesarean-by-fangs thing is gonna go great. I can see it now...
On the Harry Potter front, news is lame. There is a whole lotta new clips and scenes being leaked from the new movie, but I usually avoid them like the plague. Why you may ask? Well, you take a movie you were looking forward to like everything, you watch all the clips and scenes and when you go to the theatre you already know the whole movie and it's all so spoiled for you. With something like Harry, spoiling it is the last thing I want.
I love you Harry.
As well as this, this is the only other news available on Potterfront:
THEY BOUGHT FURNITURE? FOR THE SET?
Even I have now hit a point where I don't care. We should set up a news site for whenever we buy set stuff. "Today Effie picked up carpet remnants; I wonder where that will go." "Scotty purchased some paint and a set of three hangers. This is important news."
Harry Potter fans: if this is the sort of news you cling to... shame.
...I love you Harry.
In other, other, other news, I have my Peter Pan review finished. All I lack is the videos to upload and then, I shall jumpstart that magic into this world.
Then I have to do Beauty and the Beast.
Hee, B&B was pure, pure joy to my heart.
Onward to AIDA:
So, tonight is Strongest Suit night, so needless to say I brought in the reinforcements (i.e. water, sweatable clothes, etc.) I just want to have a light up dress of light up robot goodness. And to dance. My passion is dancing.
I'm a slave too. And Nikki is my slavely mother. I feel like she's our mother at least. She's our princess/mother. I love you Nikki.
Scotty got us little notebooks last rehearsal. And I was in heaven. I love goodies. Goodiess... I have big goodies in store. :)
I've been working on my script for the past, well, forever, and by the time I get it done I probably won't have to use it any more but whatever, do what you must. It's been fun. We should have Script Parties! To fold and cut and mend... and whatever, I like it.
And I bought Sidewalk Chalk. To advertise. Shut up, I like advertising.
End of AIDA.
So, I must say adieu my friends because I'm tired of looking at this blog entry. Gday.
-Me
Pee.Ess. Come toThe Rachel Show Project T tomorrow night at 7:30 in the FAC. I'm emceeing/rapping/dancing/making a fool out of myself/etc. Entry is articles of clothing and/or donations that go to El Salvador. But don't come because of El Salvador (because, who cares? I don't.), come to see meee...
If Miley Cyrus gets Ariel Moore I will vomit all over the reel and request that they do it over.
No. No. No.
Regarding Twilight:
HEYS LOOK YOU GUYS A NEW POSTER
I love how Bells is all up in Jacob's space. And Edward like, cries a tear. Well technically no, because vampires can't cry, but he I suppose he can dry sob or whatever.
Oh and Breaking Dawn has been confirmed as a movie, so the whole, Cesarean-by-fangs thing is gonna go great. I can see it now...
On the Harry Potter front, news is lame. There is a whole lotta new clips and scenes being leaked from the new movie, but I usually avoid them like the plague. Why you may ask? Well, you take a movie you were looking forward to like everything, you watch all the clips and scenes and when you go to the theatre you already know the whole movie and it's all so spoiled for you. With something like Harry, spoiling it is the last thing I want.
I love you Harry.
As well as this, this is the only other news available on Potterfront:
THEY BOUGHT FURNITURE? FOR THE SET?
Even I have now hit a point where I don't care. We should set up a news site for whenever we buy set stuff. "Today Effie picked up carpet remnants; I wonder where that will go." "Scotty purchased some paint and a set of three hangers. This is important news."
Harry Potter fans: if this is the sort of news you cling to... shame.
...I love you Harry.
In other, other, other news, I have my Peter Pan review finished. All I lack is the videos to upload and then, I shall jumpstart that magic into this world.
Then I have to do Beauty and the Beast.
Hee, B&B was pure, pure joy to my heart.
Onward to AIDA:
So, tonight is Strongest Suit night, so needless to say I brought in the reinforcements (i.e. water, sweatable clothes, etc.) I just want to have a light up dress of light up robot goodness. And to dance. My passion is dancing.
I'm a slave too. And Nikki is my slavely mother. I feel like she's our mother at least. She's our princess/mother. I love you Nikki.
Scotty got us little notebooks last rehearsal. And I was in heaven. I love goodies. Goodiess... I have big goodies in store. :)
I've been working on my script for the past, well, forever, and by the time I get it done I probably won't have to use it any more but whatever, do what you must. It's been fun. We should have Script Parties! To fold and cut and mend... and whatever, I like it.
And I bought Sidewalk Chalk. To advertise. Shut up, I like advertising.
End of AIDA.
So, I must say adieu my friends because I'm tired of looking at this blog entry. Gday.
-Me
Pee.Ess. Come to
11.5.09
Beam me up, Scotty!
HAI U GUYSS! GUESS WHAT?
That's right. I'm out. Like, from school. For three months. Jealous?
Because you should be.
Anyhoo, as I sit in the library at Western... hold up. Why am I at Western? Well my beloved laptop Beatrice's touch pad went all faulty on me, so I had them fix it. And they did a gorgeous job. She's little sad to leave the I.T. building though. So many handsome, young, strapping and flirtatious male laptops waiting on her every purr, and she gets to go home to my rinkydink gentleman desktop Sir Henry. He's in love with her; as is every other electronic. But will she ever realize his appeal? I doubt it because I sure don't.
Sooo, Summer Plans:
Work. Somewhere. I'll figure it out. ;)
AIDA AIDA AIDA
Hopefully the Foreigner; something with it, be it tech or acting. I'm obviously not picky.
Going along with the Aida train of thought: HANDMAIDEN GIFT BASKETS. Or should I say Pyramids? Once there are several more handmaidens than Bird Girls I'm going more so for crafty and cheep than "hey lets buy lots of stuff and I'll sew buttons on it, okay? Okay!" approach. Looking back, will I get everyone something? No.
For two reasons: 1. there are like, 14 handmaidens. If you think I am painstakingly going to cut pyramid gift boxes and glitter them for 14 handmaidens, you are sadly mistaken. 2. I'm poor and can only afford so many pairs of drawers. I think I'll just tie-dye white ones or something though. How does that make you feel? To think of me tie-dying your panties, eh?
Speaking of Handmaidens and Co. I've put the whole lot of them on a diet. Walking once a week and although the mass majority can't walk past a mile it is progress and by the time the play comes around we shall all be fit. Turns out I am surprisingly fit; I toted my 45 pound cousin up a steep and long driveway and back without even getting tired. I was impressed with this.
Although I do have the most horrible lungs. Untreated asthma or something. Whatever.
And all this fitness is disguised by a whole lotta fat. Mm.
Our first try was kind of failed though. I come out of the bathroom dressed in shorts and tennis shoes and they're all walking in decorative flip flops and normal shoes. Sillies. Had blisters. We walked half a mile and the whole lot was worn. We walked back and then went to Pizza Hut, which essentially kind of makes everything not exactly work and kind of useless.
Then crazy stuff happened that was weird and we're not going to relive it, mkay? Okay, so we will. One day. I'm kind of worn out. I have a Lock-In Recap floating in my drafts and I'll post it... sometime. I got to prune it to my preferences.
And I have to find a name for our Aida Fitness Days for Aida Fitness Days is a mouthful but not so much a mouthful as "Elaborate Lives are not so elaborate when they are fat," which is more or less my favourite. "Enchantment Passing Through my muscles hurts like a Pharaoh" doesn't quite work either. I'll think of something. "A Step To Far for I think I'm going to die..."
So, LETS TALK ABOUT AIDA SOME MORE! *hint: this is going to be life this summer. So get used to me talking about this.
So after our Plink Nights I have decided that I am tone deaf. Well, I sort of knew this and I can sort of tell when I'm major off but sort of not and it's all dastardly. I dunno. Kelly sung on-key in gentle tones in my ear to help me get on key and that helped a whole lotta. But my Kelly will not always be there to hold my hand, and *le sigh* this saddens me. We are kindred spirits my friend. :(
Anyhoo, all the handmaidens get to wear towels.
And I get to, more or less, wear something like this:
Fierce. In all actuality this is a unitard and the original word was "body stocking," but if you google body stocking you get something a little more... risque? Sure. So I'm thinking, "unitard" was more in mind. I will then be beamed up to the mothership at the end.
Don't be hating.
So, back to something else, my Dearest Kelly is doing a show for her Senior Project and who is to be in it but yours truly. We're doing "Snuff the Girl" from Urinetown and I'm *gasp* dancing. Kelly actually trusts me that much. Egad, what?
I also think she wants me to Emcee or something or something that's sort of like an Emcee but more like I walk out and dance and walk off and something happens and we're not sure what and it's all like Spaghetti Cat and Tavern Beaver and you just don't know.
And that's what I contribute. The More You Know
And in other news, I have picked up reading again now that the purgatory named college is over, and I am reading 2 books. One is 200 pages and is thoroughly boring but Kelly told me I would love it and obviously I do a lot for Kelly and I trust her opinion on what I like for we're pretty similar in this aspect. The Catcher in the Rye is this one and I keep waiting for the interesting part. I just got to the part where he buys a hooker, and I'm still not intrigued so there you go.
My other book is 600 pages and I'm halfway done with it as well. The Host by same woman who did Twilight. It's amazing. Even though the narrator annoys me a little in this one as well. She's such a pansy, but it's justifiable and works. But the person whose body she had taken over is not; she's hardcore. It's sad but great with lots of sections in it that are like, you know, the camping sections in Deathly Hallows where you just wait till its over so you get to that one good chapter and then we're camping again. Whatever. I found myself crying of the characters anguish last night. Don't judge me.
The guy she's in love with though is named Jared. Jared. This is significant.
He's also a jerk. How... appropriate. But pretty much my favourite character so there you go.
Anyhoodle, I'm off to Wal*Mart to buy a tape adapter because if I listen to what I have to listen to anymore I'll carve ornate bedposts out of my legs or something. Whatever. Good day friends.
-Me
Pee.Ess.
Grades!:
Religion: A-
Psycology: A
Acting I: B (WHAT?!)
Stagecraft: A+
Comp II: B
That's right. I'm out. Like, from school. For three months. Jealous?
Because you should be.
Anyhoo, as I sit in the library at Western... hold up. Why am I at Western? Well my beloved laptop Beatrice's touch pad went all faulty on me, so I had them fix it. And they did a gorgeous job. She's little sad to leave the I.T. building though. So many handsome, young, strapping and flirtatious male laptops waiting on her every purr, and she gets to go home to my rinkydink gentleman desktop Sir Henry. He's in love with her; as is every other electronic. But will she ever realize his appeal? I doubt it because I sure don't.
Sooo, Summer Plans:
Work. Somewhere. I'll figure it out. ;)
AIDA AIDA AIDA
Hopefully the Foreigner; something with it, be it tech or acting. I'm obviously not picky.
Going along with the Aida train of thought: HANDMAIDEN GIFT BASKETS. Or should I say Pyramids? Once there are several more handmaidens than Bird Girls I'm going more so for crafty and cheep than "hey lets buy lots of stuff and I'll sew buttons on it, okay? Okay!" approach. Looking back, will I get everyone something? No.
For two reasons: 1. there are like, 14 handmaidens. If you think I am painstakingly going to cut pyramid gift boxes and glitter them for 14 handmaidens, you are sadly mistaken. 2. I'm poor and can only afford so many pairs of drawers. I think I'll just tie-dye white ones or something though. How does that make you feel? To think of me tie-dying your panties, eh?
Speaking of Handmaidens and Co. I've put the whole lot of them on a diet. Walking once a week and although the mass majority can't walk past a mile it is progress and by the time the play comes around we shall all be fit. Turns out I am surprisingly fit; I toted my 45 pound cousin up a steep and long driveway and back without even getting tired. I was impressed with this.
Although I do have the most horrible lungs. Untreated asthma or something. Whatever.
And all this fitness is disguised by a whole lotta fat. Mm.
Our first try was kind of failed though. I come out of the bathroom dressed in shorts and tennis shoes and they're all walking in decorative flip flops and normal shoes. Sillies. Had blisters. We walked half a mile and the whole lot was worn. We walked back and then went to Pizza Hut, which essentially kind of makes everything not exactly work and kind of useless.
Then crazy stuff happened that was weird and we're not going to relive it, mkay? Okay, so we will. One day. I'm kind of worn out. I have a Lock-In Recap floating in my drafts and I'll post it... sometime. I got to prune it to my preferences.
And I have to find a name for our Aida Fitness Days for Aida Fitness Days is a mouthful but not so much a mouthful as "Elaborate Lives are not so elaborate when they are fat," which is more or less my favourite. "Enchantment Passing Through my muscles hurts like a Pharaoh" doesn't quite work either. I'll think of something. "A Step To Far for I think I'm going to die..."
So, LETS TALK ABOUT AIDA SOME MORE! *hint: this is going to be life this summer. So get used to me talking about this.
So after our Plink Nights I have decided that I am tone deaf. Well, I sort of knew this and I can sort of tell when I'm major off but sort of not and it's all dastardly. I dunno. Kelly sung on-key in gentle tones in my ear to help me get on key and that helped a whole lotta. But my Kelly will not always be there to hold my hand, and *le sigh* this saddens me. We are kindred spirits my friend. :(
Anyhoo, all the handmaidens get to wear towels.
And I get to, more or less, wear something like this:
Fierce. In all actuality this is a unitard and the original word was "body stocking," but if you google body stocking you get something a little more... risque? Sure. So I'm thinking, "unitard" was more in mind. I will then be beamed up to the mothership at the end.
Don't be hating.
So, back to something else, my Dearest Kelly is doing a show for her Senior Project and who is to be in it but yours truly. We're doing "Snuff the Girl" from Urinetown and I'm *gasp* dancing. Kelly actually trusts me that much. Egad, what?
I also think she wants me to Emcee or something or something that's sort of like an Emcee but more like I walk out and dance and walk off and something happens and we're not sure what and it's all like Spaghetti Cat and Tavern Beaver and you just don't know.
And that's what I contribute. The More You Know
And in other news, I have picked up reading again now that the purgatory named college is over, and I am reading 2 books. One is 200 pages and is thoroughly boring but Kelly told me I would love it and obviously I do a lot for Kelly and I trust her opinion on what I like for we're pretty similar in this aspect. The Catcher in the Rye is this one and I keep waiting for the interesting part. I just got to the part where he buys a hooker, and I'm still not intrigued so there you go.
My other book is 600 pages and I'm halfway done with it as well. The Host by same woman who did Twilight. It's amazing. Even though the narrator annoys me a little in this one as well. She's such a pansy, but it's justifiable and works. But the person whose body she had taken over is not; she's hardcore. It's sad but great with lots of sections in it that are like, you know, the camping sections in Deathly Hallows where you just wait till its over so you get to that one good chapter and then we're camping again. Whatever. I found myself crying of the characters anguish last night. Don't judge me.
The guy she's in love with though is named Jared. Jared. This is significant.
He's also a jerk. How... appropriate. But pretty much my favourite character so there you go.
Anyhoodle, I'm off to Wal*Mart to buy a tape adapter because if I listen to what I have to listen to anymore I'll carve ornate bedposts out of my legs or something. Whatever. Good day friends.
-Me
Pee.Ess.
Grades!:
Religion: A-
Psycology: A
Acting I: B (WHAT?!)
Stagecraft: A+
Comp II: B
28.1.09
On a Tuesday, you can see forever...
This is a beautiful morning. It reminds me of the simple pleasures of high school. I remember running for milk in the morning, one in each hand for Scotty's cereal. Everyone would watch and shake their heads or laugh. It's now a general joke to get me to run. The weather is super pleasant and the only thing missing is my old friends and Robbie's closet that I need to clean out. Again.
My acting class is going relatively well. My acting teacher told me he was disappointed because we got into character but didn't get in the character. It's hard to explain but he wants us to literally become that person. He also noted that some of us were way too cartoonish (which I think he means too much energy and too "big") and to that I guffaw for we all know that "do it big" is the motto of life (not to mention it makes more sense.) I'm not sure what's going on... but I like our way better.
He also has told me that I was too perky. Hm...
And we did this game. What you had to do was lay down on the ground and relax while your partner felt all over you helping you with "tension." I know I was supposed to relax but it's awful hard to when you are trying your hardest to look serious. I daresay I felt a little violated.
Before class though, I dropped by Uncle Scotty's and watched some skits. I happened to record this one of dearest Jonathan:
I just adore the ending. Then I was off to Acting to be violated then I came back to see Scotty again. I walked into his third period and I saw Jennifer who actually bear gripped me, and I commented that black made her look slim but threw in some fat jokes all the same. She informed me that she had lost weight and to that I received a "well Rachel found it." Jerk. Then Ric hit me with his marble track pole and in the corner I saw him give Everett a high five.
I then sewed some buttons on Nikki's costume and ate about fifty chocolate squares. Alex decided she would rather put thread on a shirt than art so she showed up and we all talked a lot. Everett stole my glasses and made good use of them:
Which was so phenomenally adorable that a picture was taken. I then finished and school was out. Lori (Kelly's sister) came in waiting for Kelly who then showed up and this is where the fun begins. Kelly drew me an amazing picture of me as a star killing people (their were carcasses surrounding me) and Everett wrote me a charming poem that ends in "if you would lose 50 pounds then you wouldn't be so round." We all decided to go waste time together so we got in Sev and went. But first we had to drop of Lori at the health department.
So I wasn't quite sure where to go so they were directing me and they told me to turn and I accidently went in the wrong lane. So I just go over the median and drive on until Kelly and Everett notice that there is a cop behind me (no blue lights mind you.) So I keep driving and park at the health dept. and Lori gets out and we sit there and next thing I know I have this lady cop at my window. She tells me that I need to pay more attention to the road and less to my friends. Not only that but she says it super cocky and the ironic thing is that my friends were paying attention to the road as well and helping me with it. Kelly said I was pitiful and to make me feel better she sat up front with me and we left Everett in the back where he belonged. We then went to Wal*Mart and bikes were rode in the aisle and a hula hoop tournament went on. And we looked at an Obama book. Blegh.
I was hungry so we went to Dairy Queen where Everett and I bashed every one of Kelly's lovely beliefs (bible style) and it was sort of like a dog chasing its tail. We then left, and Everett taught me how to use my cruise button (because I suck at driving apparently) and we went to the play ground where we climbed up the slide and then went down it, see sawed, spider swung, (not very successfully. Poor Kelly.) and did lots more. It was great fun.
Onto rehearsal which was fun (the best part is to watch us bird girls scamper across backstage at mach speed.) This part is one of the most fun parts ever. I love to dance but not only do I get to dance I get to be a diva as well. We discussed getting matching underwear with "Bird Girl" on the butt and we then had some lovely conversations about everything. I believe this is going to be an amazing play. Robbie had some footage of the whole thing and I told him he should make a whole video of it and hand it out to us all. It would be amazing.
Oh and Chris showed up and we all had great fun talking about Western and old plays we all did together. Kelly and Chris talked about their wonderful moments while dancing and it was hilarious. Brianna and I then talked about life and it was deep. Fun, fun, fun. :)
And this Friday I have a birthday party to look forward to. Someone turned extremely old and someone else is youthful so good day to them. Pizza and movie is my style. :)
-Me
16.1.09
Think of Rachel, Think of Rachel, Think of Rachel, Think of Rachel
I believe that Tuesdays and Thursdays are going to be the days magic is made. I don't have to get dressed up in stiff pants, I only have Acting that day (which is fun), then I get to play at the FAC with buttons and, well mostly buttons, and then I have play practice. This is what magic is made of.
We had practice last night, and, WHOA, what a bunch of people. So very many. It's hard to maneuver around them, but alas, we all shall manage. The dance vaguely remind me of You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown with the sort of marches and the bobbing up and down (I miss you Jessup. :( Come back and make me keep time.), and the whole on the knee, hands out thing. I remember also doing the invisible lasso in Seuss on the Loose and I love it all. I had a fabulous time last night. I love dancing and the dance is extremely fun... even if everywhere you walk someone smells. I'm gonna say it now: Water and soap should be apart of your family. And deodorant should be your best friend. And if the latter is not? Then the dermatologist who gives you medicine for the issue should be your best friend, hence why I love Dr. Singleton.
Speaking of water: ours is frozen. I had to take a bath up at Aunt Carolyn's today and it was... annoying. Aunt Carolyn's tub was very nice though, and it takes a lot for me to like someone else's bath tub. You know how most people hate sleeping in a bed besides their own? Well, I hate taking a bath in someone else's tub. Even though, compared to the cast iron thing I have to use, anything is nice I suppose. Cast iron isn't comfortable in the least, but I do suppose it exfoliates. I got permeant marker on it the other day because I had drawn Harry Potter characters on my toes and they rubbed off on the tub. Luckily mom hasn't noticed these blue streaks. Oh Harry, how could you?
Speaking of Harry:
NOOOOOOO!
We had practice last night, and, WHOA, what a bunch of people. So very many. It's hard to maneuver around them, but alas, we all shall manage. The dance vaguely remind me of You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown with the sort of marches and the bobbing up and down (I miss you Jessup. :( Come back and make me keep time.), and the whole on the knee, hands out thing. I remember also doing the invisible lasso in Seuss on the Loose and I love it all. I had a fabulous time last night. I love dancing and the dance is extremely fun... even if everywhere you walk someone smells. I'm gonna say it now: Water and soap should be apart of your family. And deodorant should be your best friend. And if the latter is not? Then the dermatologist who gives you medicine for the issue should be your best friend, hence why I love Dr. Singleton.
Speaking of water: ours is frozen. I had to take a bath up at Aunt Carolyn's today and it was... annoying. Aunt Carolyn's tub was very nice though, and it takes a lot for me to like someone else's bath tub. You know how most people hate sleeping in a bed besides their own? Well, I hate taking a bath in someone else's tub. Even though, compared to the cast iron thing I have to use, anything is nice I suppose. Cast iron isn't comfortable in the least, but I do suppose it exfoliates. I got permeant marker on it the other day because I had drawn Harry Potter characters on my toes and they rubbed off on the tub. Luckily mom hasn't noticed these blue streaks. Oh Harry, how could you?
Speaking of Harry:
NOOOOOOO!Daniel, keep your naked trap shut. The only possible significance you serve to the Harry Potter series is playing Harry Potter, and THAT IS ALL THE BLESSING YOU HAVE. Shut up, Mr. "I dun wanna be known as Harry Potter." As someone who is now some big nuddy star on Broadway you should be ecstatic on the possibility of a MUSICAL. A HARRY POTTER MUSICAL. You're just afraid they will pick you to play the part and once you want to break apart from the HP image, you are labeling the thought as a big no-no. I hate you.
Lord of the Rings can make a sucky musical, why can't Harry Potter? Besides, I was really looking forward to a soul-spliting dance montage fearturing Voldemort belting about Horcurxes in a force that makes you get goose bumps and sounds sort of like "I Need To Know" from Jekyll and Hyde. [Hm, I wish I had that CD, hm...]
Except even creepier. Mahh.
-creepyvoldemortme
8.1.09
Activate: Shape of An Ice Menorah
The time has come:
FOR ANOTHER SHOW.
...that looks tacky. Yes.
You know, you really don't realize how much you miss something until it is taken away from you. Then you don't realize how much you missed it until you get to start on it again. And it's when you have been starved for theatrical interaction, not only in stage time, but backstage and socially as well, that you get excited about the small preparations for a show such as your nightly orange juice in your Little Mermaid goblet or buying a sports bra for dancing:
What? I had to make sure it fit.
Anywho, I don't remember ever being this excited for a show. I am SUPER pleased with my part (Bird Girl), I am SUPER pleased with my fellow Bird Girls. On opening night I think I'm going to get gift baskets my BG sisters. With, you know, sample deodorant and Pixie Sticks or something. BONDING.
I feel like this is going to be a show to remember. Not that they all are not unique and amazing in their own special way; this one is just going to have a lot dancing fun attached. Which I really can't wait for. Dancing is like, exercising the soul.
Sooo: COLLEGE.
Ew, I go back Monday. I still have to clean out Sev:
Because, obviously, he is currently unlivable. Teej, Abby and I went to Western today to pick up our books. First we ate at the burrito place on campus and I had the Greek God burrito. It had the biggest load of rice and beans I have ever seen, but I got some chicken put on it because I have suddenly turned man and I am currently obsessed with meat. I don't get it, but I'll go with it. Anywho, I couldn't eat it all because it was freaky huge, and if I can't eat it all... that's saying something. Got my money's worth though. Or Abigail's money worth. I am such a mooch.
So, we got our books, and I have about five, Teej has about five and Abigrail has about... 12. But this is the horrible thing. I get to carry these on MWF:
But the best book is my one for my Acting 1 class on Tuesday and Thursday. Check out the title:
"Respect for Acting." Oh gah, what have I got myself into. Don't get me wrong, I do take acting serious (and by serious, I mean for fun.) but I have a feeling this is going to be something like the song "Nothing" from A Chorus Line. Except I will at least act like I feel something. Why must everything be so psychological? Why not just get up there and do it and forget all this mumbo jumbo about being in sync with the ice cream cone? I dunno...
Oh, and it snowed...
And my cat sat on some pizza boxes:
AND SCRUBS IS BACK! I missed the first episode of the new season because mom was watching some Hallmark movie about a brick maker (?) and rehearsals were happening at 9. But luckily, it's on YouTube, and I am about to wet myself with glee. Ahhh...
Ah, to say "I have rehearsal" has a sweet, sweet, ring to it. Yes. And I just got done eating more MEAT.
MEAT. MEAT. MEAT.
ǝɯʇɐǝɯ-
28.3.08
Updatles
Why do I always use numbers?
1. So, today I am at the library. After a pack of free twizzlers; Abigail had some odd bout with the vending machine, which she is now eating in the no eating zone while commentating on the weirdos in the library, questioning why I come here in the first place. She's the weirdo for following me here in the first place. Stalker.
Am not! she says. Well, I may not know much but cat rubbing isn't usually part of a normal cousin-to-cousin relationship.
Then again, normalcy isn't quite a word that describes our relationship (You know, sort of like Scotty and Sam. I know what I saw.)
2. So I locked myself out my car the yesterday. I went to the hair dressers, and I started looking for my keys. Couldn't find them, so I went out to the car and they were in the ignition. Luckily I had barely cracked the passenger side mirror and a few gentleman were more than welcome to come to my assistance. After sticking crowbars and metal rods in my window, they ran into the mexican place and borrowed a metal hanger. It was then that my door was unlocked. I went to take my keys out of the ignition, and it was still running. What is generally bad about it all is I could have just rolled down the automatic window with the hanger and unlocked it that way. Sometimes my stupidity gets the best of me.
3. So I have this new mouthwash. It's called Smart Rinse by Listerine. It's so amazing because when I spit it out, it tints all the food and bacteria so I can see that it's working. I have 'Berry Shield' flavour, and it is so ubberly delicious that I just want to drink it.
4. Abigail is really acting like a freak. She keeps feeding me twizzlers and winking at me. I am not sure if I should be creeped out or...creeped out. The twizzler just fell out my mouth. I think it is because my mouth always seems to be agape.
5. I had my first tomato this year yesterday. When I ate it, I think I went to heaven and back. I could almost write an ode to tomatoes I love them soooo much. Yum... yum... yum.
6. Guess what? I am going to be in the talent show this year. Not for any real talent of course; Taylor is controlling all of me. We are doing "They Both Reached For The Gun" from Chicago, and I am going to be a puppet. I hope it will be good, but when it comes to moving my body, it just usually doesn't end well.
7. I get to register to VOTE! I have been waiting for this moment all my life. Who cares about getting to smoke and buying dirty videos at 18? I GETS TO VOOOTES! The greatest thing though, is that on the registration form it has a place to draw a map of where you live if you don't have a street address. So basically, if you are a hobo, you can vote. Stellar, eh?
8. I saw some old pictures of my future husband in leather pants today. And my goodness, he is a looker!
-Me.
1. So, today I am at the library. After a pack of free twizzlers; Abigail had some odd bout with the vending machine, which she is now eating in the no eating zone while commentating on the weirdos in the library, questioning why I come here in the first place. She's the weirdo for following me here in the first place. Stalker.
Am not! she says. Well, I may not know much but cat rubbing isn't usually part of a normal cousin-to-cousin relationship.
Then again, normalcy isn't quite a word that describes our relationship (You know, sort of like Scotty and Sam. I know what I saw.)
2. So I locked myself out my car the yesterday. I went to the hair dressers, and I started looking for my keys. Couldn't find them, so I went out to the car and they were in the ignition. Luckily I had barely cracked the passenger side mirror and a few gentleman were more than welcome to come to my assistance. After sticking crowbars and metal rods in my window, they ran into the mexican place and borrowed a metal hanger. It was then that my door was unlocked. I went to take my keys out of the ignition, and it was still running. What is generally bad about it all is I could have just rolled down the automatic window with the hanger and unlocked it that way. Sometimes my stupidity gets the best of me.
3. So I have this new mouthwash. It's called Smart Rinse by Listerine. It's so amazing because when I spit it out, it tints all the food and bacteria so I can see that it's working. I have 'Berry Shield' flavour, and it is so ubberly delicious that I just want to drink it.
4. Abigail is really acting like a freak. She keeps feeding me twizzlers and winking at me. I am not sure if I should be creeped out or...creeped out. The twizzler just fell out my mouth. I think it is because my mouth always seems to be agape.
5. I had my first tomato this year yesterday. When I ate it, I think I went to heaven and back. I could almost write an ode to tomatoes I love them soooo much. Yum... yum... yum.
6. Guess what? I am going to be in the talent show this year. Not for any real talent of course; Taylor is controlling all of me. We are doing "They Both Reached For The Gun" from Chicago, and I am going to be a puppet. I hope it will be good, but when it comes to moving my body, it just usually doesn't end well.
7. I get to register to VOTE! I have been waiting for this moment all my life. Who cares about getting to smoke and buying dirty videos at 18? I GETS TO VOOOTES! The greatest thing though, is that on the registration form it has a place to draw a map of where you live if you don't have a street address. So basically, if you are a hobo, you can vote. Stellar, eh?
8. I saw some old pictures of my future husband in leather pants today. And my goodness, he is a looker!
-Me.
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