My life has become a Pink song

Hey, hey?  Remember me?  Rachel?  The owner of this blog?  I bet you thought I died, didn't you?  Well I haven't.  Glory be, isn't that fabulous.

So, right now, I'm sitting backstage of our opening of I Hate Hamlet.  I was assigned props assistant, and whatever, I do stuff.  They break lots of vases.  Volpi is shirtless.  If your into that kind of thing, his shirtless hugs are kind of nice.  But he's still a tool.  And he knows he's getting nothing from me.  Except disdain.  I hand that out freely.

I'm also props masta [holla] for Sweeney Todd and I do blood and I think I'm going to have to make lots of meat pies.  And that's gross, and I can't really cook and stuff, but whatever.  I think I'm going to hold a meat pie baking party and everyone can make pies while I watch Jane Eyre on repeat or something.

I'm in Pottermore too.  It's sort of become an obsession, and my life [literally] revolves around making virtual potions.  And yes, this is sad, but it's also fun and I'm earning house points for the house cup, and yes, we're leading (with the least members, mind you,) because we're the ambitious crew.

I thought I was in Gryffindor for like, ever, and I really wanted to be that, but no, I got Gryffindor's rival, Slytherin.  I was like, "there is no way I'll be that house," and then I was sorted, and what do you know, Slytherin.  And this is J.K. Rowling's quiz, so it's as legit as they come.  So, at first, I had a mild identity crisis, like, "do I know myself?!"  And then I realized, omg, I am a Slytherin, and ya'll, it was like I truly understood myself for the first time, and now I'm embracing the hippogriffs out of it, because this is my house.  You know?  It's so clear now.  I've been changed.  Or at least I truly know who I am.  I'm selfish, but ambitious, determined, cunning, traditional, etc.  It's like, WHOA, I found where I belong.

So yes, I've felt ties to my house, and yes, I'm as obsessed with it as one would be with a sports team or something.  And yes, now I have to buy a new lanyard, because my old one is Gryffindor, and that just don't go ya'll.

I've been very anti-social lately, and you know, whateves.  It's just like, I want to be alone so I can think and live in a world where there is no one but me.  It's a phase, so don't patronize me or anything.  I'm the happiest I've been in a while, and that's really something.  I thank God for that every night.

In my arts class we have to do a performing arts piece.  I'm not real picky, I just threw out three requirements as far as I'm concerned: togas, blood and food.  That's all that maters to me really.

Oh, and I'm in pottery and I cannot throw pots to save my life and I am doing a dismal job.  But I can use a kick wheel, so that's awesome.  My teacher has dubbed me her 'Special Student.'

Yeah.

So, following on that anti social path, I also have no time.  I still read a lot, but right now I can't read.  Actually, that's a lie, because I'm on Pottermore all the time, making virtual potions.  Is that sad?  Yes.  It's so sad.  But I love it, and that's all that matters.

I wish Hogwarts was real.  Then I'd have my fellow Slytherins and we would do stuff like jump on the leather couches in the common room, and I'd learn how to become invisible and stuff.  That would be cool.

I know everyone who reads this is going to think, "Oh Rachel, her life is so sad, and she's so lonely," but seriously guys, I think I'm just basking in me time.  I'm a natural hermit with an overactive imagination, and I'm really enjoying my life right now.  I like just hanging out with me and the four cups I cannot throw on a wheel.  My cylinders - they're so sad.

So, what's happening on the boy front?  Well, I like at least a dozen.  There are two guys in pottery who try and help me all the time, but they're both engaged, and it angers me.  Just on principal.  I've reached the point where I think I want to be an eternal maiden.  I would start a club for eternal maidens and we would become archers and travel the world and climb trees and stuff.  It'd be awesome.

I have 4 cats now.  I know, you all think my life's pathways are really depressing, but I seriously love it.  Although they can be annoying at times.  Such as when they attack my feet while I'm sleeping.

So blogger.  I say adieu for now.

-Me

Harry Potter World 1.1: Palm Trees

Kelly's currently writing in her "travel journal" about our lovely trip, so I thought I would do the same - except my dear blog audience is going to SEE ALL.  I have to be quick and dirty because we have a date in the Magic Kingdom tomorrow, so this may not be as, proof read as usual.  Did I mention we're wearing our matching Tinkerbell Pajamas?  Well, now I am.

So today I woke up.  And I thought, "this is the beginning of the best week of my life."  I have prepared ridiculously.  I cut my hair!  I bought shorts!  I have toiletries!  I shaved my legs this morning.  And then I put on a dress.  It was red with dots.  Then I drove.  Then I bought gas - apparently cars need that.  I arrived at Kelly's house.  I pet Minerva.  We got in the car. 7:30: we embarked.

We bought biscuits.  They were too hard.  We drove.  For several hours.  We stopped at Subway and bought gas.  It has lots of security precautions.  We drove some more.

When we arrived in Florida there was a palm tree at the entrance.  It made smile.  I was so happy.  There are a lot of palm trees in Florida.  I mean a lot of palm trees.  It was sunny and beautiful, and so flat.  I was amazed.  How can it be so flat?  The sky was such a funny colour.  It wasn't Carolina blue.  I never realized that was, special to Carolina or something.  I mean, I know it's in the name, but you know, I just thought they dedicated it to Carolina.  I didn't think it was like, limited to here...there...whatever, quit judging.

Important/Influential/Significant/Interesting things that happened:
1.  We counted 'ProLife' signs.  There were over 7 - but we started counting late.  Although I am ProLife, they were a tad bit creepy.  For example:

Creepy Baby Smiles are Creepy

2.  Chris called and him and Kelly successful bullied me via phone.  My life is so hard.  They have successfully kept up a bulling chain.  Kelly tells Chris all the dumb things I do, Chris texts her about how dumb I am, and they laugh at me.

3.  Our hotel room is BEAUTIFUL.  It's at the Hyatt Place and it is huge and lovely, with a massive TV, a couch, a kitchenette, a king size bed, and a soap/shampoo/conditioner dispenser.  It looks exactly like this:

Room fit for the Goddesses we are

4.  Our waiter looked like a cross between Daniel Bottoms and Josh Groban.  It was frighting.  I'm posting pictures so you can imagine what a cross between the two would look like and be equally frightened.

When all is said and done, Kelly plans to Tumblr our whole trip; complete with 5,000 of my - interesting - quotes.  Speaking of which, what do coconuts grow on?  I always thought it was palm trees, but with so many planted around here, this can't be.  A coconut tree?  Somehow, this doesn't sound right.

After an 8 hour trip, I'm very tired.  Did I mention our hotel is directly across from Universal, aka, home of Harry Potter world?  I saw a billboard.  I had a nerd fit.  As I sat in a pool chair, looking across at the albino black guy, the Universal parking garage and the sunset, I began to cry because I thought, J.K. Rowling, the one who birthed Harry Potter (Figuratively, because Lily Evans Potter birthed him.) has walked the same streets that I am going to walk.  As I took a very long bath, I prayed, "God, thank you, because I don't know if I've ever been happier."

-Me.

Horcrux of the Moment

Kelly has this thing on her Tumblr called ‘The High-Five’ where she lists the 5 things she’s really into at the moment.  The more High-Fives she posted, the more I fell in love with this idea – it’s so organized!  I love organization!  I like charts!  It's like math!  I LOVE math!

Being the uncreative thieving wench in love with her creative idea, I decided to adapt something of it for myself.  The name is in development, but it has something to do with Horcruxes.  If you are asking "why, what is a horcrux?" I ask, a. are we friends? And b. are you adversed to good literature?  But for those who don't read Harry Potter, a horcrux is an vessel that holds a bit of your soul.  Fitting, no?  Okay, so that might be too dramatic of term, but love, soul, their interchangeable - sort of.  Whatever, I'm going with it.

Speaking of which, once the Voldemort has 7, I shall dedicate the same number to my Horcruxes of the moment

1. EOS Lip Balm

Call me a sucker for packaging concepts.  It's completely true.  Yes, I have 3 out of the 5 colours.  Well, in my defense, my mother bought 2.  BUT, I love it so much.  This chap stick...this chap stick.  It moisturizes my lips and it doesn't leave that icky residue that chap sticks often leave.  I carry it everywhere.  Only downfall?  It doesn't fit into pockets.

2.  Casting for The Hunger Games

A small addiction has risen in the form of continually checking the cast list for The Hunger Games.  I would be lying if I didn't say that I checked on the internet at least 3 times a day - and continually checking my twitter on my phone, seeing if anything has been confirmed.  SO MANY TRIBUTES have been cast.  So many of my favourites.  But so many more to go.

I don't think I've mentioned this (ha, WHATEVER) but it's being filmed in Asheville.  This mega-hit is being made an HOUR AWAY.  More awesome news: Thursday, Tommy, Drew, Val and I are heading out to the casting call for extras in, catch it, HENDERSONVILLE.  To be an extra isn't glamorous - but for The Hunger Games I would willingly enter the arena and thus die a seventy-four times to be included.  And with locality like that?  How can I pass?

3.  Exploring

Exploring has always been a hobby of mine; But, Saturday, I went on an adventure.

Tommy, his girlfriend Lindsey and the token Russian student, Vladimir, came up to see some falls.  I joined them, as I only live 10 minutes away.  As I've been trekking in the woods since I was 5, we took a lot of, *cough* unorthodox paths around the falls, often into thickets of poison oak.  Tommy then [dramatically] recited the waterfall scene from The Last of the Mohicans.

After that tomfoolery, we wanted to go swimming.  So we went near the bridge and played in the water.  We then decided to go through uncharted waters, through the rapids.  Barefoot.  I straddled a tree - Val broke the tree.  We climbed big rocks.  Then we decided to trek upstream through the rapids of death.  And I was the leader.

Best moment?  We were all holding onto some limbs when Val suddenly said, "Rachel, vet go of dee limb."  I had no idea what he was talking about until I saw the baby WASP NEST OF DEATH.  We managed to trek around it through the woods.  We also managed to run into strangers.  Lindsey, who lives in the city, was very excited about her adventure and told them, "We came up the rapids!  It was so much fun!"

They stared at her.  It may have been because she was in her underwear.

4.  Cats. Where they do not belong.

A Tumblr dedicated to cats being in places where cats do not belong.  Paired with the witty captions, I have never laughed so much.  I'm trying to decide if I have a legit obsession with cats.  If I do, I'm going to let it pass.  We all need something to love.

5.  Harry Potter

I'm looping two things into one category.  First off TRAILER:

Drew said I never blinked when I watched it.  It's true.  I think it looks fabulous.  Except for the falling off the bridge part; I'm a bit confused.  Because the Dragon in the 4th movie more or less fell around the same point, and it died.  And Harry and Voldemort don't die.  At least not that way.

Second off:

HARRY POTTER WORLD.

As I write this, I have 9 days until I'm home.  This will be my first trip.  I keep trying to find words to describe what I feel.  I'm coming up short.  No moment in my life will compare to what is to happen on May 12th.  Not the birth of my first child or the day I am to wed.  No.  I will cry.  As I write this, I find tears just thinking of the moment when I see that scarlet steam engine.  I just, I just, I don't know.

I'm so glad I get to share it with one of my best friends.  I'm going to try Butterbeer for the first time.  I'm may get to buy my wand.  Not a replica of someone else's - mine.

I'm going to stop, because my laptop is getting wet.

6.  Gladiator Sandals

A girl in my T.I.E. class broke my favourite flip flops.  My mom bought me a pair of $5 sandals to tide me over.  I wear them with everything.  And although they began to tear on the SECOND DAY I wore them, I do not care because I love them.

7.  The Mortal Instruments Series

I left the nerdiest for last.  I wish I could say I didn't like fantasy novels, but it would be a lie.  I've wanted to read City of Bones for a while, but just look at that cover.  It has a sparkly man chest.  Like, I can't even articulate how bad it looks, much less what it says about me as a person.

I won't say it's epic literature.  It's not up there with Harry Potter or The Hunger Games.  But, ya'll, it's good.  Like guilty pleasure, but a good guilty pleasure, one you don't mind admitting too.  I have feasted and devoured City of Bones and City of Ashes within days - that's just the first two books, and that's at least 1,000 pages.  I continually check my library account, waiting for the patron who has City of Glass to TURN IT IN so I can CHECK IT OUT and feast on its glory.

It features a normal girl named Clary who has lived a normal life.  She has her normal mother, her mother’s normal not-boyfriend, and her normal best friend (and captain of the nerds), Simon.  Everything is normal UNTIL she goes clubbing and she sees people no one else can see. *cue ominous music*  Then she finds out about these people called *cringe* Shadowhunters and they kill demons.

Anyway, one of the Shadowhunters is a boy named Jace, and he’s snarky and tortured.  And yes, that would be his sparkly, glittering chest on the cover.  As she begins to have feelings for him, she also begins to see Nerd Captain Simon in another way, which after 10 years of friendship, it’s about time.

Just so you know Simon is totally my favourite.  He a. is Jewish, b. an archer, c. wears glasses, d. is in a “band”, e. is a vegetarian, f. has unrequited love, and g. is allergic to ragweed.  He is the pinnacle of nerd/awesome and I think I want him as my boyfriend.  And just when he couldn't get any more awesome, he goes through something very serious, and it just makes him 8x more awesome.

I literally want him.  It's not a joke.  He has made me forget about all the crushes I have ever had, because they all revolve around this fictional character Simon and how much I want need him.

For now, these are my Horcruxs.  Will they change?  Most definitely.  But, the bright side is, if I keep changing them, Harry will never find them.

-Me

The Parable of the Banana Sandwich

You know sometimes, you just want a banana sandwich; all you want, all you really ask out of life is for a banana sandwich.  You spend all three hours of class dreaming about when you shall get that PB and Bananas sandwich; your tummy growls in desire.  You take a risk; you go to the rarely eatery on campus just so you can get the ever so desired banana sandwich.

Life is about risks; unfortunately, you never know where they are going to lead.

You walk into said sandwich shop and say "I would like a peanut butter and banana sandwich, please."

Sadly, they have no bananas.

This throws a wrench in your plan.

What are you to do?

You could settle with a PB&J.  Or go and buy your own bananas and make your own sandwich.

OR, you can wait.

See the thing is; perhaps you weren't meant to have a banana sandwich right now.  Perhaps that banana sandwich wouldn't be appreciated right now.  Maybe if you had it right now it would end in a weird rash or in the toilet, thus soiling your chances of ever wanting a banana sandwich again.

Friday; they have no bananas.  Today they did.  I'm glad I waited, because this is the best banana [peanut butter/cinnamon,/honey] sandwich I have ever had.  Although it is also the messiest sandwich I've ever had and typing while eating isn't the brightest thing I've ever done, NO MATTER, because it is totally worth it.

Because I believe God can work in something as uninteresting as banana sandwiches:
Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.
Psalms 27:14

-Me

I took my pants off.

So, although I got little to no sleep last night, I am in better spirits this morning. Well, now I am. I was in bed around 1 last night; I stayed at Kelly's super late. We played Bananagrams, which I'm not all that fond of because I cannot spell very well; then we played Quelf which is rather fun. I had to be a mummy. Nothing super memorable happened. Then we went up to the studio and played signs, but they just had me as "it" because I'm bad at it as well. We played Ninja Destruction and Samurai. THEN we played "Truth or Dare."

Now, once I have absolutely no secrets and I'm not all that gutsy, this game is easy peasy to me. Truth, and I answer. But, there were about 3 dares. And boy me, they were good. Chase dared TJ to drink pickle juice out of someone's belly button. And he did it. I dared Chris to drink milk and ketchup. And he did it [after much whining, mind you. He thought I'd go easy on him.] Kelly dared Alex to eat a dead lady bug [complete with chewing]. And she did it!

Ya'll, it was hilarious. I am not very courageous on these sort of things, but I love watching others having to do it. After, we hit people with a large exercise peanut and I wrestled Chris to the ground, because I am very strong and he is weak. Before long I became cranky and grumpy, so I went home [and TJ drove behind me to guarantee my safety.]

Great night. Today was a bit hectic, but after two cancelled classes, I still have to stay over for a 3 o'clock meeting because I'm a costume crew chief thing for The A-Train Plays.

So this weekend is scattered because tonight I'm spending the night with Kelly, and tomorrow we're going to the Mall to see Beastly. I know this part should be cut out of my schedule once I have work. But how often do I see Kelly? And I rarely hang out with anyone, especially my bestie who is a good few hours away. This weekend though, I have a monologue to memorize and a french test to study for. I'm auditing a class, because the teacher asked me to be in the show for it. [yeah, I know.], so I have a character analysis for that and lines to memorize.

It's not a big deal, but to do something makes me smile and feel rather blessed. I'm the part of a conjoined twin. Yes, I know, I get the physically disabled part. Except this time I have four legs instead of one. What up. Also, Sideshow perks. "I will never leave youuuu..."

Next week looks less hectic, so I'm ready to breath a little. I'm going to get all my research done for one of my research papers, and then relax some.

Also there is a rumor that if a professor doesn't have a PhD that they are not guaranteed employment. So basically, Dr. Beam is safe if no one else is. Wonders of wonders, miracles of miracles. I am so happy that my BFF is totes safe.

Lets talk about things I like [other than Dr. Beam] now:

There is this new thing called Harry Potter: The Quest. It's basically like the coke points thing for Harry Potter fans. You do internet things, and you get points...? Look, I'm a member, and we're going to have fun. You earn collectibles and stuff. And you know, need.

The movie is coming out April 15th. I didn't really like this movie so much, but whatever, collection purposes. I'm hoping that one day, when I marry someone with a BlueRay player, that he will buy me the massive 4 disk box sets. Like, I need them too. I'm going to have the best future husband ever. Tag this under #thingsIknow.

In May, I'm going to be visiting a certain place where certain wizards flock.

YES HARRY POTTER WORLD! Tonight we are planning everything. It'll be a poor college students trip, with not many school supplies being purchased, [Fortunately, everything can be purchased off the internets.] but moreso a day worth of experience. Kelly and I am going together in May after we get out of school, and before work. Also a trip to Disney and Universal is planned too. We're making the plans tonight and cooking Harry Potter food.

Ya'll, I am so excited. This is my mecca. It is honestly our plan to go there and work after we get out of school. Theatre degree, hello! It's PERFECT. I would be content if I was selling shaved ice in this place. Rumor has it they are thinking of building Gringotts and Diagon Alley, and OH please let it happen.

So...I have to share this on my blog, because I like to share. There are these new dolls, in a franchise entitled Monster High. Now, you know my fondness for monsters, but these dolls are adorable. And ya'll, I want them. Bad. What would I do with them? Probably write blogs about our adventures and have playdates with Alex [who has already agreed with me on these matters.] Yes, I would totally play with them. BUT the important thing is, the new one has been reviled and I am in awe of how awesome she is:

LOOK AT HER LITTLE SEE THROUGH LIMBS? Is that not precious?

I know, I don't need them, and it's silly to want dolls, BUT if Scotty can collect Vinylmations, then I can collect monster dolls. No judging. Even if they have the worst names ever. "Draculara" and "Frankie Stien" to name a few. Also, they have webisodes and I have totally watched every single one.

Oh, stop judging me.

So, a bunch of my friends have started reading The Hunger Games.  And they are, of course, seeing how phenomenal it is.  My main squeeze is in the running for the role of Peeta, BUT everyone is saying he's a super bad actor.  I'll judge myself when we go see Beastly, and I hope this isn't true.  Because, above all else, I want someone who can act.  I know I swoon over this guy, but if he can't act... then, meh, I don't want him.  I believe I have picked my Katniss though:

I have yet to see True Grit, and once it's a Western and there are no Aliens/Wizards/Vampires/etc., my interest is limited, BUT she was nominated for an Oscar so I suppose she isn't to shabby.  Her eyebrows bother me, but, by the time she reaches 16 I think she'll be fabulous.  She's not gorgeous, no, but she's just looks like Katniss to me.  And girl can apparently act.

As for Beastly, which I'm seeing tomorrow, I am kind of scared now.  The reviews are giving it a very dismal rating.  I mean, I wasn't expecting that it would be awesome.  It's obviously one of those movies you watch for the sugary and swoony goodness.  Sort of like Twilight.  You don't go to see Oscar bait; you go to see entertaining junk.  But, I hope it's good.  Even if it has Vanessa in it. *snear of discontent*

Of course, Little Red Riding Hood looks so bad [and sugary!] that I must see it as well.  Even if Gary Oldman is in it, it just has to be bad.  Please be so bad you're good.  Not like The Room or Human Centipede bad, but, Twilight and Beastly bad.

As long as The Hunger Games is AWESOME I will die so happy.

I'm going to go get food now.

-Me

WARNING: COMPLAINING GRUMPY PANTS AHEAD

So, um, AH.  I am [back] in the Beam of Doctors class, and I am yet again, blogging.  I was on Spring Break last week, and I spent it doing sound [and when I say "doing sound" I mean, I pressed play on the CD player] for Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss.  Twas fun, and it was great to be apart of my third Seuss show.  Yes, third.

Right now, I am very, very overwhelmed with everything.  So much work, and the problem is, I have no focus.  All I want to do is look up videos on the internet and read books.  I've cut out books and the Sims right now, because if I don't I'll have no focus at all.  I should have worked on work during Spring Break, bhut, I didn't.

Company stuff, AH, so much.  Like, I want to like the company, I do, but all I really want to do is sleep forever.  I feel semi-sort of depressed because I sort of went to college for acting, and I've developed very little.  I should have auditioned the first time I came, but my confidence and my nerves got the better of me.  I am so uncomfortably shy, and this bothers me as well.  I know how to act, but when I know people are watching, I freak out.  Being myself is so easy for me; if you don't like me, I don't really care.  BUT if you think my portrayal of someone else or something else is weird or not right and if you judge me, it just gets me off and it bothers me. BUT if I feel like I know what I'm doing and it makes sense, then I don't care.

None of this is making sense and I really don't know what I'm typing at this point because I did nothing but write a Beam test for 5 hours last night, and although I got in bed in time, I feel like my sleep level is wayyy off.  I brought my Snuggie today so I can nap all day in the library.  But I won't get to because I have to write stuff for French.

I'm costume chair thing for the company show; I have a French Quiz Bowl I'm helping out with; I'm doing costumes for the class I'm auditing; I have two research papers; I'm in a show at school; and I don't know, I just want to die.  And when I say "die," I mean sleep forever and forever.

Tonight I'm going to play board games at Kelly's house.  I'll be grumpy and whiny; I'll warn the lot of you now.  Chris summarizes it as "grumpy pants," and he has a voice and a little jig to go with the phrase.  We went to Jessup's one night and I spent the entire night being a bear and sleeping on the floor, and I finally cried in Chris' car with fatigue.  I don't handle sleep lackage very well.

I'm going to quit typing because this is all a "I am sad, and grumpy, and tired."  Perhaps I'll write a blog later today that isn't so...grumpy.

-Me

Justin Bieber asks: "Be Mine?"

Sitting hear eating some fries from Chic-Fil-A.  Overall, a fairly stressful day.  But, it's Valentine's day.

As for me I like Valentines day.  Little cheesy slips of paper with Justin Bieber's face on them, fun stuffed animals, angry Facebook status, i.e. "Guess I'll just be alone for Valentine's day.  It's a stupid concept anyway." And, namely the limited edition chocolate.  [See:  Little Debby Cherry Cordials, and Marshmallow Hearts.]  I mean, come on, the candy is fabulous.  Although, those little heart boxes of chocolate are horrid as well as those chalky conversation hearts.  For future reference, to my future lover, I like neither.  And I know, future lover, that's exactly what you'll do.  Jerk.

If you are single and you are reading this with tears in your eyes, sniffling over being alone, I say but one thing: get over yourself.  You're your own person, and Valentines day is just another day that you're alone, just like yesterday, and maybe like tomorrow.  There are worst things in the world than not getting married, or having babies, or not having a boyfriend/girlfriend.  Namely cancer, or having no legs or something.  I don't have the patience for you cry babies.

Cry baby.

If you're upset about being single, why?  I mean, I know there are boys I'd really like to date [okay, one, but I find many attractive], but I'm not going to wallow all over the couch and watch sad romance movies about being sad because I'm alone or something.  Firstly, you're not alone.  You have Jesus.  Secondly, you're still not alone, because surely you have parents or friends, or something...?  Look, being single isn't that bad.  It's a good thing, because you don't have to worry about people being happy and stuff.  And compromising.  Ew, compromising.  Embrace your singleness; not to mention, by the time you're done whining and you accept your life and find happiness in it, you'll probably get with whomever you want.  See if I'm not right.

If you are one of those people who is like, "Valentines day is so stupid," um, I'm sorry?  Look, it is a Hallmark holiday, but what is more wonderful than love?  I'm serious, I love love.  I've written papers on the stuff.  If you can't appreciate the feeling, look at the science of it.  Why do people feel love; what makes them think that they are 'in love.'  Why do sooo many people confuse infatuation with love?  Why does society seem to press on us the importance of falling in love?

These are intellectual conversations to have with yourself, and use Valentines day as a breading ground for sociological observances.

If none of this appeals to you, then remember, you can always Facebook stalk visibly mushy couples, and then relish when they go splitzy doodle.  Is this cruel?  Oh, certainly.

NOW if you're not single, then you may be one of those goons that all the single people hate because you make them feel miserable with all your, "I love my Valentine ;) <3 ;)"  And somewhere a single person cries.  But don't let that distract you; as I stated before, they need to get over themselves and quit being a dramatic bag of tears.  

BUT, realize, that you may be making an idiot of yourself.  After all, no one really cares how much you love your boyfriend/girlfriend/lover/lovers so, instead of being self proclaiming and feeling glee from making others jealous of your in-clandestine happiness, remember, no one really cares.  In fact they probably talk behind your back about what an idiot you are and how you're going to probably end up pregnant because you're so stupid over a boy.

Are they jealous of you?  Maybe.  But then again, chances are, they won't be working at Yankee Candle.

As I sit here in History of Theatre, Dr. Beam [BFF FOR LIFE.] is going on about German Realism and stuff, and I sit here rereading on what I wrote yesterday, I'm going to tell you that my Valentines day ended up being overwhelmingly awesome.  Although I just finished belittling those who openly discuss the happiness in their lives, this is my blog and not Facebook, so I feel fully comfortable doing it.  And if you don't care, then stop reading moron. [This option is not available on Facebook.  Aren't you lucky that I blogged it instead?]

I was going to go to a Vanessa Carlton concert, but instead I went to Seuss rehearsals.  Why I would I do this...?  I dunno.  But I went to rehearsals, and sat with Chris and we gossiped about everything. I know gossiping is wrong, but we have to tell our menagerie of secrets to someone so we've become each others vessel of secrets.

...?

After we got done talking about everyone and everything, I asked him to be my Valentine via note, and he circled "No." Then he drew a cat.  But not Zombie Smudge, because Zombie Smudge is going to get him.  And eat him. Nom nom nom.

Seuss was fun to watch [I only read about half a page in the The Subtle Knife so it captivated me enough.  -To the jerk who threw my book] and I recognized a lot.  Such as shimmies.  I 

After rehearsals, Alex, Chase, TJ, Chris and I went to Fatz and Alex ate all the rolls.  But they brought us more, and Chris let me share his butter, so I ate a role.  Chris then ordered a salad, and I ate it.  Then he ordered chicken, and I ate some of it.  Then I ordered cheese fries, and I ate them.  Do you see why we are friends?  He feeds me.  Chris then put my fries in my box for me because I was doing it wrong.  I think I may have to take my BFFL charm from Dr. Beamz and give it to Chris.  He wouldn't take it though, because he pretends to dislike me.  Deep down he loves me.  Like my cats.

I wish there was such thing as a hero charm, because I would give it to Uncle Scotty.

I have more stuff to talk about, but right now, I'm just going to make this a Valentine entry.  Hope yours was great with lots of Marshmallow Hearts and cheese fries.

-Me

The Lack of Appeal Regarding: Children

25 minutes before dialects, and blog I shall.  The CMC is filled with Education majors.  Abigail and I have an odd hatred for education majors.  We have reasons; very biased and wrong reasons none the less, but reasons.  It includes women willingly thrusting themselves into their continuous gender roles, taking a job in a society that demands one, but really, it's the exact job society expects.

That and they all look like soccer moms.  And I hate babies/children.  That's possibly the main reason.  Actually that is the main reason.  People are obsessed with babies, and they are just ugly little mini humans in my minds.

Or course, to all the above there is exceptions.  I was an adorable baby. I love all my elementary school educators who didn't see me as an ugly little mini human.  My best friend, bless, is an education major with a baby obsession.  And I love her dearly, despite the fact that we have arguments over which is better; cats or babies.

P.S.  It's cats.

I guess, really, in the baby/child mania of our present society, people oftentimes see only cuteness and this drives the thought of children doing anything bad away from an adults mind.  It's a vicious cycle, really.  Child rubs sandwich on body, people find it funny, but, "don't do it again, okay."  Child thinks, "they find this funny," and they do it again, and again, and then it's not funny anymore, but the negative reaction has been set so they start doing more stuff and it's funny but then it's not, and it's a horrid cycle.

And I know Jesus said to love the little children.  And I do love them; but I don't like them.  At all.  I know other people disagree; and that's your opinion.  I hope you love children until you die.

Jenny, I hope you read this and relish in all of this and hopefully cry because it makes you sad that I dislike children so very much.  I love it when I'm with all your education major friends and I talk about my baby hatred and they gasp and say "But, it's an ickle baby."  And I say, "I don't care.  I'm going to punch it in the face.  Like you."

I don't dislike all children, though.  I adore well behaved, not asking for my attention all the time, quiet children.  Does such a thing exist?  Yes, because I was one.  Basically, I was the peak of perfection as a child.  I was a mini adult.  And I was a genius.

Now, where as I don't like children, I do love teenagers.  Something about the angsty age of not knowing anything but thinking you do appeals to me (perhaps because I'm equally dramatic) and  most people hate the age of teen.  It takes all sorts of people to make up this world though.  So regardless of the education majors invading MY CMC, I thank them and God for what they do because Providence knows that I would rather detach my legs and use them as crutches than look after one child for over 5 minutes.

-Me

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 a mother-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:

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

"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:

Chris would be in front, as the polar bear; Volpi, in the back as the White Witch

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

Dear Anne,

I'm going to start with the beginning of this story. It's a very lengthy story, and if it's boring or not is up to the reader. But it probably is.

It is a story that begins in in the summer of 2009, the first year of my internship and the first year of the SMCPA. Somewhere during this time, Scotty told us of his plans in doing 'The Diary of Anne Frank.'

I can remember my instant reaction to this news: "I want to be Anne Frank." Visions of me up on the stage, portraying the lively Jewish girl who's story is often the center of the Holocaust occupied my thoughts. Later that week, I ran/drove to the bookstore and picked up the most well known copy of her diary, "Diary of a Young Girl," or the version that is known as being lovingly written edited by her father. I can still remember Chris and I getting drinks, and him shuffling through my new books, looking at that one in particular, stating, "you want to be Anne Frank, don't you?"

I told only my closest friends of this dream. I didn't get a whole lot of encouragement; I could tell they didn't really believe in me. I suppose their logic was this:

Captain of the Nerd Dazzlers

Does not equal the Jewish face of the Holocaust who has actually done something worthwhile with her life.

That, and this could not possibly equal anything that resembled attractive acting. I suppose they *rationally* thought, "well, if Anne Frank is supposed to look like a raptor on stage, then Rachel would be perfect."
On reflection, I really can't say for certain if I didn't end up looking like a raptor.

Flash forward to July 2010. Interning yet again, I silently took note of the calender inscribed with 'DoAF Auditions'. Chris and I were personally in charge of copying the audition packets. Every time a page came out, I read it eagerly. Chris, who, at this point, had heard of my dream 500 times, (and had yet to give me true encouragement but didn't hesitate to say "why are you so boring,") hears them yet again. I stealthily took one of the packets and rushed it to my car, eager to read the scenes and work on them. A little while later, I sprinted/drove to the library and sat, packet in hand, working each of Anne's lines and finding her intentions behind them.

Gradually, audition day loomed forward. I had practiced in front of several people, all of whom had good words to say, although I will say they were all immensely partial. Either that or they didn't want to kill my spirit and tell me that I looked like a raptor. *shrug*

I had read the diary. I dressed as much like Anne as I could, without losing some sense of modernism. I brought my packet and I was ready.

...I also spent the whole hour before auditions crying over this cat that was squalling at the humane society, and they kept telling me that they were going to have to put her down if she didn't get a home, a.k.a. the ol' guilt adopt.

:( :( I hope, to this day, that Cleopatra survived.

Anyhoo, I had prayed many things in preparation for this day:
1. I would do my best at the auditions; well enough to earn the role
2. I would have the courage and knowledge on how to do it
3. God would obtain the glory if I was to do it well
4. And most of all, if I was to be cast or not, I prayed that God's will be done.

I showed up at auditions and did my pieces. Scotty called me up for every Anne Frank piece, which made me think I at least had a shot. I had heard many rumors that the role was already promised; but I didn't care. I tried my best to control my body, to be subtle and focused. After auditions, I thanked God, for I felt as if I did my best and I knew that He was with me. I spent the next few days in peace. My mother, bless her, told me she knew that I hadn't got the role. She didn't say that out of harshness, but in her eternal theme of 'reality.'

But I kept my faith and I couldn't help but have a good feeling.

The day came, and the cast list was posted. Amanda called me into her room, and I literally exploded with delight. I thanked God, I thanked Jesus and then Scotty. In that order. I had never been more happy. I proudly went to Garret and said, "Garret, I need my script." I stroked said script, I told Scott my great news, and began to pour over all the stage directions.

After this, I began checking out additional books. A lot of books. I found the expanded version of Anne's diary with "30% more material," and not lovingly edited by her father, which I read as well. I checked out photo books, Miep's book, Anne's friend Hannah's book, research books, biographies, books with the stories Anne wrote about fairies and dwarves; which is just a step away from magical wizards, so don't tell me we're not kindred spirits. Most importantly, "The Critical Edition" - which is essentially the diary, complete with spelling mistakes and everything else.

The more I read, the more I began to see Anne Frank in my mind. I slowly began to relate to her; I found similarities between the two of us, similarities we had before I even knew her. Like Anne, I feel closest to God when I am enveloped in nature. Hence why I frolic through the woods.

She is an independent and free person like I, and even I will admit that I do believe that people are really good at heart (except Scotty.) After a while, I began to know Anne. I knew what she would do and what she wouldn't do in her every day life. She had become my constant friend and kindred spirit. One who understands me.

Not to mention she faced a lot of the same battles as I did. And that was the battle of not being taken seriously. (Shall I redirect you to the above picture?)

As I became deeply involved in rehearsals, I found myself understanding her even more on stage. I knew what she would do and how she would feel. As for executing this on stage, that was a different story. I thank everyone for the patience they had as I rowed boats, ski jumped and seduced Peter with my sexy, telephone voice. It was definitely a challenge. I especially thank Scotty who walked me through, step by step, on how to do it. I had the most notes of anyone, but I am thankful for this, because not only had it kept my humble, but it has also helped me do my best.

Before I knew it performance time was here. Everything was set and ready, and all I had to do was show up. Regarding the performances, I prayed only that I would do my best, and that somehow my performance would lead people closer to God and that it would allow them to pick up Anne's diary or Wikipedia the Holocaust and discover some things. I know, it sounds cheesy. But I also prayed and I still hope that my performance satisfied Scotty in the end. I never did overcome the ski jumping thing, I don't know if I ever did become spunky enough, and I know some nights were almost over-energized, while on Sunday I was a drag.

I know that he was rather pleased with the show, and I hope I helped in that happiness. Being "a swan" in rehearsal and being one at a performance is two different things, and I hope, beyond hope, this was achieved.

I have received many complements. From my fellow actors, peers, my mother and random audience members. But, the way I look at it is, most people aren't all that hard to please. Besides if any part of my performances were good, it was God and not me, I assure.

Reflecting on everything, I can say that I do feel as if Anne and I have went through something similar. Where as she developed into a writer, I feel as if I have developed somewhat into a true actress.

Now that it is over, I can say that this is probably the most depressed I have ever been after a show. I am sad that it's over; but I'm mostly sad because I feel as if I have lost my best friend. For two months now, Anne has been my constant companion. I have done little without at least considering her. If it were any other character, I know I would not feel this way. After all, very few characters are non-fictitious characters, and rarely are they so relatable. I suppose, in a way, Anne will always hold a special place in my heart. I doubt I will ever play a more meaningful role in my life, as that of Anne Frank. And really, I don't want her to ever leave. I like her; I like her company. And who says that she has to leave?

I'm rarely this sentimental, and my blogs usually consist of things like raptors and the dumb things I do such as dropping my phone in the toilet (my current epidemic), or my misadventures in theatre, or Chris and his spandex. I still have to write about many things, but spandex has no place in an Anne Frank memorial/Acting journey/Thanksgiving To God Blog. (Or does it...?)

A funny thought that often crosses my mind is, what if Anne was born in 1990 like I? What if she had the privilege to be raised in the freedom of the USA? What would she be like? What if her only worries of the day were having dropped her cell phone in the toilet? What if she was 19 years old, and had a car and went to college, what would she be doing? Would she listen to Lady GaGa while driving down the road? (Oh, you know that she would love Lady GaGa.) Would she be going for a journalism degree? Would she be writing a blog, instead of a diary? Would she be writing about reading the diary of a 15 year old girl who died in the Holocaust?

Would she be like me?

-Me

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:



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