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
Showing posts with label My Greatness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Greatness. Show all posts
24.9.10
Caution: Extremely Hot
Just got done eating some delicious Chic-Fil-A (ah, the perks of college) and now, that my company is gone to work on his Shakespeare paper, I shall write a blog.
So, yesterday I went to French table, and I must say, I'm enamored. Not by speaking the language, no. No, I'm enamored by the gorgeous French-Canadian who runs the French table. Alas, how he kept looking at me; but that might be because I was activating my coy looks. I set the score straight in the beginning; I am atrocious at speaking French. And he understood. We talked about Harry Potter - en francais. Nothing quite as romantic as talking to a handsome man about the most beautiful subject on earth in the language of love.
At the end he was asking for a ride to his suite (in general - not directly to me), but I couldn't take him because I wanted to go to rehearsals. In retrospect, how very silly of me to refuse. All the same, one very eager and assertive young lady received the honour, and I walked off as he told me bye.
Le sigh. Methinks I am in love. The decision has been made; French tables are now a regular part of my week. Bad new though; all the other ladies are after him. BUT, not all of them are experts in the delicate art of man-entrancing.
Are you feeling entranced yet? Quick, scroll away before you endanger yourself.
Rehearsals were good last night. I didn't have to go; but I decided I would so I would look dedicated or whatever. I saw the whole show for the first time. And I have a few things to say.
These kids do know how to act. Like the serious type of acting that I am not so good at. They are getting better about being clean and crisp and what not. Energy was low last night; could be better. Pace Monster still hasn't made his appearance yet. But they are getting it. Now, as for the show itself... its very, very, dirty. Like, you're supposed to laugh at it, but you're too busy feeling embarrassed to laugh. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's my weird sense of humor. I will say I believe it is Divine Providence that I did not get cast. Because, at the end of the day, I would feel awfully guilty about doing such pieces.
Although I was unaware that I wasn't on the running crew, I was asked yesterday if I would be on it. Funny, because since school started I've been counting on being on the running crew for my credits. It's just me and Jacklyn on the running crew, so I have a feeling that it is going to be quite fun.
In general, I'm kind of looking forward to everything. Although it is a dirty show, I don't have to do it, per say. I'm really making quite a few friends now, so it's gone from an awkward experience to an enjoyable one. Today we hung lights; they were done by 1 o'clock, just as I had predicted. I cut some gels, which was harder than I expected. I also cleared a spot on the loading dock, and sort of swept with Chris, (sort of), and then we moved furniture. Afterwards, we went to Chic-Fil-A and then we went to the library, where we gossiped about stuff and ate. It was like being back at work. :) Just w/o the crying in front of the fridge in the laundry room.
Once I will be talking about this show a lot for the next couple of weeks, here are a few pictures to help with your visualization:
Chris as a caveman. He's actually shirtless in that leopard thing, or at least he was last night...
This is Tara. I actually really like her, because she has always made a point to talk to me. She's also highly sarcastic, and a nerd, and in that aspect, we click like doves. If dove clicked. This scene is called 'The Sheep.' I'm not going to explain it because it might be the worst of them all.
This is Little Brown Strauss Christina. I only post this picture because I think she looks just like Susan Brown Strauss. Actually, it's kind of scary. I may post a comparison photo one day. Just because he's in the picture, I'll mention him, that's Drake, and he's pretty good. For some reason, he's shirtless in most scenes. I dunno why.
For now, that is it. I'm here at WCU until late, late, late, so between now and later, something might happen. Meh, dunno. Enjoy life, be young and stay out of trouble. And be careful to collect yourself before you go out in public because you still are a little dazed from my entrancing photo.
-Me
Pee.Ess. Nevermind his name is Drew. Whatever, I don't care about people and their names.
15.9.10
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 lovinglywritten 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
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*
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
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.
:( :( 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.
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?
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
-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
19.11.09
Regarding: EVERYTHING.
Regarding: College.
For some reason, I am totally in love with college. I dunno why to be honest, because there is no actual reason other than I'm incandescently happy when I am there. I do adore my classes (Ya'll, I'm better at a rapier than I thought.) theatre and otherwise. I make 100s on everything in communications, I'm a wiz at sociology, and I can actually move sort of in sync with everyone else. (Wait, WHAT?) Yadda, yadda, I'm a genius essentially, etc., etc.
I packed my lunch the other day because I was in school from 8 to 5 with no break (...ugh.) and it was the most adorable thing you've ever seen. I had my Mickey Mouse lunch box, with my Ariel sandwich box. Inside this box was a dinosaur shaped sandwich. I had a little giraffe container with grapes, Disney Princess fruit snacks and a juice box. I felt like I was 7, but it was worth it because it was delicious.
PS. My sandwich was peanutbutter and jelly. Mixed. To perfection.
Anyhoo, we had make up and we were dealing with crepe hair. A little known fact is that, other than my nudiphobia, I also have a fear of hair wads and or anything that has to do with fake hair. Abigail, when we were little, she would take it out of Barbie brushes and rub it all over my legs and it was the singularly most creepy thing ever. To reinforce this issue, she sends my pictures of hairwads. Gah, they are creepy. So in class I about had a conniption fit within, but I did it and it was gross, gross, gross and let's not talk about it anymore mkay?
Blegh *shiver*
So today in communications we had this little nugget on persuading things. I thought she wanted an actual cause on something to persuade. So I found an actual cause... I was pretty much the only one.
While everyone was doing speeches on flip flops, chapstick, Snuggies, boxer/briefs, iPhones vs Blackberries I got up there and did corporal punishment and how it should not be illegalized.
And then to pretty much go against everything I just said my teacher said to not spank a kid in public. Thanks.
Still made a 100. I'M LUCKY.
Speaking of Snuggies, I am now the proud owner of one. I really have two objectives in buying it: 1. it was on sale and it'll keep me warm, and 2. I want wear it and do a dance to Mika's Love Today (Google it. It's my theme song.).
I got mother one for Christmas. Hers is pink. Mine is blue. They really are worth the investment although I am going to lament to the Snuggie corporation that they need a snap upon the back because it keeps falling off my shoulders.
I also bought the mystery egg and you put it in water and it hatches some creature and you don't know what it is until it hatches, but mine was a dino. I was sad because I wanted a lizard or a duck, but i was just grateful that it wasn't a snake. I wouldn't have minded the gator so much though.
Back to persuasive speeches, I realized once on one wants to hear about corporal punishment I'm going to do my BIG persuasive speech one one thing: Don't read Twilight.
Which leads us right into...
Regarding: TWILIGHT.
So, why do I say this? Because of the negative messages it sends girls. And she actually is letting me do it. I'll try to ignore that I have read it. And that I love it. Hypocrisy is crazy. But, you know what, I have evidence (yes, like Academic Journals on the subject), so lets run with it.
New Moon is soon upon us. I have no idea when I'm going to see it, but Iam going to dress up am going to see it. I guess.
Alice remains awesome. AWESOME. My gosh, I'm so excited to see her steal that porche. And be awesome. AWESOME.
Anyhoo, some links regarding the phenomenon:
New Moon Review
My hope has been renewed
Burger King and Twilight Join Forces: Because That Makes Perfect Sense
...okay, so I do want a crown.
Robert Pattinson Fan Hospitalized After Poster Fight
To quote the article: "We've witnessed first hand just how dedicated and, erm, excitable Robert Pattinson fans can be, but we're still shocked that one of them ended up in hospital after having a fight over a poster! A poster? Not even the real thing? Or a life-size cutout at least?"
It wasn't even for a twilight review. It was for some documentary called Robobsessed. Seriously.
Guys, my pity for Robert Pattinson is absolutely ridiculous. God bless him. Seriously. I would also like to note that I liked him back in HP years when he played Ced. I was in love with him then. When you sit through 3 hours of Vanity Fair at 1 in the morning so you can see the back of his head, I call that commitment. (Mind you, I was 15.) And I cry every time he dies in GoF. EVERYTIME. Especially when Amos is like, THAT'S MY SON. I mean, COME ON. If you don't cry at that, you have, literally, no heart.
I just don't like him as Edward as well. But he has been the sort of, bridge crossing between Harry and Twilight. So when the Twihards say "Well we have Robert Pattinson," we can be like, "um, so do we. Along with that we have an actual plot, an alternate world, likable and real characters, decent writing, plethoras of imagination, oh, and Alan Rickman."
At this point we are in the Department of Mysteries and we are stepping through door number whatever to go into:
Regarding: HARRY POTTER
So, *sigh* there is this application I have been introduced to multiple times on Facebook. It's like MobWars but a, *sigh* Harry Potter version.
Need I remind you all that I am amazing at MobWars (apparently humility is not my thing today.) but it has got rather tiring keeping up with it. After all, I don't really know anything about guns. And keeping up with the Mafia is really not so much my thing... but the game it's self is fun. Add these concepts with Harry Potter... genius.
This is called...wait for it...
The SCHOOL OF WIZARDRY.
*facepalm*
I have A LOT of issues with it. Firstly, does it take that much effort to call it "Hogwarts?" I know, I know, copyright infringement, etc, etc, but can you not smack a disclaimer on it? Have a page of advertisements to keep it up and running instead of having to buy those dumb hall passes. Speaking of which... hall passes? Really? House Points is more the token if you ask me. Just saying.
Adding to this, they can't say 'Hogwarts' but they can say, 'Diagon Alley,' 'Quidditch,' 'Tom Riddle,' and all the spell names? Perhaps my biggest moment of disgust was when I saw 'Platform 9 1/2.'
ARGH. If you HAVE to get creative with it at least call it 'Platform 9 6/8' OR SOMETHING. At least that reduces to 3/4. CREATIVITY YA'LL. IT'S DEAD.
Secondly, the lessons. I'm so glad I have to complete the lesson "Accept Letter To Hogwarts" 150 thousand times before I master it. Really? I can just see myself. "Finding letter, looking at address, open letter, read, dance of joy..." and I have to do it 150 thousand times. This doesn't make sense. It just, it just doesn't.
My suggestion is to do actual lessons that you would actually do more than once. Like the mastering of transforming a beetle into a button. It would take practice, so technically, an attempt would take 150 times and it WOULD MAKE SENSE.
But what throws me is the stuff I have to buy to even do half these "lessons." Like, why do I even need a Sorting Hat to try out for the Quidditch team? Or why do I need 5 wands or 4 robes. I can see why I would need multiple spells for SPELL POWA but, seriously, I just don't get it. I just, I just dont.
WHO EVEN OWNS 8 YEW WANDS IN THE WIZARDING WORLD. 8 YEW WANDS; TO THEMSELVES. NO ONE.
Why do I even need a yew wand? That's the VMasters wand.
What floors me the most is that I'm a third year and I already own 16 pieces of real estate. More importantly, when was buying real estate ever important in Harry Potter? Other than the Weasley Twins, it never was. And you can buy 10 of their jokeshops... for whatever reason.
Another thing that bothers me is that after a while you can upgrade your character, from the initial ones you have. The ones offered are Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron was my choice, but with so many *scoff* hall passes you can upgrade. So, I know Draco is an option, but I have NO IDEA who the other four are supposed to be. This bothers me, because I'm like, the Harry Potter genius. Before you tell me who you think they are, I remind you that they are all Gryfindors. I would say the small girl was Ginny, but she looks more blonde so I simply do not know. IT'S KILLING ME.
Saying all this, and lamenting on how very much I hate the imprefections of this game, I AM SO UTTERLY ADDICTED. I cannot get off this stupid game. I will not quit until I am a fully
qualified wizard.
May I also note that I am the only one of my order to have mastered my whole first year. I am the only one who can proudly say they sport both a silver and gold robe. Whatever I am to do with a gold robe I know not.
Oh and I can duel people but I just prefer to do a whole lotta lessons, so I waste all my skill points on that.
[please send me every spell gift avaliable. I want to catch them all. :( ]
My gosh, I am such a nerd.
I'm going to quit now before I show anymore of my nerdism.
-Me.
Pee.Ess.
Regarding: Kelly
SHE'S COMING HOME. YAY YAY YAY YAY. Life without Kelly is like the most massive hole in my soul. I write this because it rhymes like the times.
For some reason, I am totally in love with college. I dunno why to be honest, because there is no actual reason other than I'm incandescently happy when I am there. I do adore my classes (Ya'll, I'm better at a rapier than I thought.) theatre and otherwise. I make 100s on everything in communications, I'm a wiz at sociology, and I can actually move sort of in sync with everyone else. (Wait, WHAT?) Yadda, yadda, I'm a genius essentially, etc., etc.
I packed my lunch the other day because I was in school from 8 to 5 with no break (...ugh.) and it was the most adorable thing you've ever seen. I had my Mickey Mouse lunch box, with my Ariel sandwich box. Inside this box was a dinosaur shaped sandwich. I had a little giraffe container with grapes, Disney Princess fruit snacks and a juice box. I felt like I was 7, but it was worth it because it was delicious.
PS. My sandwich was peanutbutter and jelly. Mixed. To perfection.
Anyhoo, we had make up and we were dealing with crepe hair. A little known fact is that, other than my nudiphobia, I also have a fear of hair wads and or anything that has to do with fake hair. Abigail, when we were little, she would take it out of Barbie brushes and rub it all over my legs and it was the singularly most creepy thing ever. To reinforce this issue, she sends my pictures of hairwads. Gah, they are creepy. So in class I about had a conniption fit within, but I did it and it was gross, gross, gross and let's not talk about it anymore mkay?
Blegh *shiver*
So today in communications we had this little nugget on persuading things. I thought she wanted an actual cause on something to persuade. So I found an actual cause... I was pretty much the only one.
While everyone was doing speeches on flip flops, chapstick, Snuggies, boxer/briefs, iPhones vs Blackberries I got up there and did corporal punishment and how it should not be illegalized.
And then to pretty much go against everything I just said my teacher said to not spank a kid in public. Thanks.
Still made a 100. I'M LUCKY.
Speaking of Snuggies, I am now the proud owner of one. I really have two objectives in buying it: 1. it was on sale and it'll keep me warm, and 2. I want wear it and do a dance to Mika's Love Today (Google it. It's my theme song.).
I got mother one for Christmas. Hers is pink. Mine is blue. They really are worth the investment although I am going to lament to the Snuggie corporation that they need a snap upon the back because it keeps falling off my shoulders.
I also bought the mystery egg and you put it in water and it hatches some creature and you don't know what it is until it hatches, but mine was a dino. I was sad because I wanted a lizard or a duck, but i was just grateful that it wasn't a snake. I wouldn't have minded the gator so much though.
Back to persuasive speeches, I realized once on one wants to hear about corporal punishment I'm going to do my BIG persuasive speech one one thing: Don't read Twilight.
Which leads us right into...
Regarding: TWILIGHT.
So, why do I say this? Because of the negative messages it sends girls. And she actually is letting me do it. I'll try to ignore that I have read it. And that I love it. Hypocrisy is crazy. But, you know what, I have evidence (yes, like Academic Journals on the subject), so lets run with it.
New Moon is soon upon us. I have no idea when I'm going to see it, but I
Alice remains awesome. AWESOME. My gosh, I'm so excited to see her steal that porche. And be awesome. AWESOME.
Anyhoo, some links regarding the phenomenon:
New Moon Review
My hope has been renewed
Burger King and Twilight Join Forces: Because That Makes Perfect Sense
...okay, so I do want a crown.
Robert Pattinson Fan Hospitalized After Poster Fight
To quote the article: "We've witnessed first hand just how dedicated and, erm, excitable Robert Pattinson fans can be, but we're still shocked that one of them ended up in hospital after having a fight over a poster! A poster? Not even the real thing? Or a life-size cutout at least?"
It wasn't even for a twilight review. It was for some documentary called Robobsessed. Seriously.
Guys, my pity for Robert Pattinson is absolutely ridiculous. God bless him. Seriously. I would also like to note that I liked him back in HP years when he played Ced. I was in love with him then. When you sit through 3 hours of Vanity Fair at 1 in the morning so you can see the back of his head, I call that commitment. (Mind you, I was 15.) And I cry every time he dies in GoF. EVERYTIME. Especially when Amos is like, THAT'S MY SON. I mean, COME ON. If you don't cry at that, you have, literally, no heart.
I just don't like him as Edward as well. But he has been the sort of, bridge crossing between Harry and Twilight. So when the Twihards say "Well we have Robert Pattinson," we can be like, "um, so do we. Along with that we have an actual plot, an alternate world, likable and real characters, decent writing, plethoras of imagination, oh, and Alan Rickman."
At this point we are in the Department of Mysteries and we are stepping through door number whatever to go into:
Regarding: HARRY POTTER
So, *sigh* there is this application I have been introduced to multiple times on Facebook. It's like MobWars but a, *sigh* Harry Potter version.
Need I remind you all that I am amazing at MobWars (apparently humility is not my thing today.) but it has got rather tiring keeping up with it. After all, I don't really know anything about guns. And keeping up with the Mafia is really not so much my thing... but the game it's self is fun. Add these concepts with Harry Potter... genius.
This is called...wait for it...
The SCHOOL OF WIZARDRY.
*facepalm*
I have A LOT of issues with it. Firstly, does it take that much effort to call it "Hogwarts?" I know, I know, copyright infringement, etc, etc, but can you not smack a disclaimer on it? Have a page of advertisements to keep it up and running instead of having to buy those dumb hall passes. Speaking of which... hall passes? Really? House Points is more the token if you ask me. Just saying.
Adding to this, they can't say 'Hogwarts' but they can say, 'Diagon Alley,' 'Quidditch,' 'Tom Riddle,' and all the spell names? Perhaps my biggest moment of disgust was when I saw 'Platform 9 1/2.'
ARGH. If you HAVE to get creative with it at least call it 'Platform 9 6/8' OR SOMETHING. At least that reduces to 3/4. CREATIVITY YA'LL. IT'S DEAD.
Secondly, the lessons. I'm so glad I have to complete the lesson "Accept Letter To Hogwarts" 150 thousand times before I master it. Really? I can just see myself. "Finding letter, looking at address, open letter, read, dance of joy..." and I have to do it 150 thousand times. This doesn't make sense. It just, it just doesn't.
My suggestion is to do actual lessons that you would actually do more than once. Like the mastering of transforming a beetle into a button. It would take practice, so technically, an attempt would take 150 times and it WOULD MAKE SENSE.
But what throws me is the stuff I have to buy to even do half these "lessons." Like, why do I even need a Sorting Hat to try out for the Quidditch team? Or why do I need 5 wands or 4 robes. I can see why I would need multiple spells for SPELL POWA but, seriously, I just don't get it. I just, I just dont.
WHO EVEN OWNS 8 YEW WANDS IN THE WIZARDING WORLD. 8 YEW WANDS; TO THEMSELVES. NO ONE.
Why do I even need a yew wand? That's the VMasters wand.
What floors me the most is that I'm a third year and I already own 16 pieces of real estate. More importantly, when was buying real estate ever important in Harry Potter? Other than the Weasley Twins, it never was. And you can buy 10 of their jokeshops... for whatever reason.
Another thing that bothers me is that after a while you can upgrade your character, from the initial ones you have. The ones offered are Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron was my choice, but with so many *scoff* hall passes you can upgrade. So, I know Draco is an option, but I have NO IDEA who the other four are supposed to be. This bothers me, because I'm like, the Harry Potter genius. Before you tell me who you think they are, I remind you that they are all Gryfindors. I would say the small girl was Ginny, but she looks more blonde so I simply do not know. IT'S KILLING ME.
Saying all this, and lamenting on how very much I hate the imprefections of this game, I AM SO UTTERLY ADDICTED. I cannot get off this stupid game. I will not quit until I am a fully
qualified wizard.
May I also note that I am the only one of my order to have mastered my whole first year. I am the only one who can proudly say they sport both a silver and gold robe. Whatever I am to do with a gold robe I know not.
Oh and I can duel people but I just prefer to do a whole lotta lessons, so I waste all my skill points on that.
[please send me every spell gift avaliable. I want to catch them all. :( ]
My gosh, I am such a nerd.
I'm going to quit now before I show anymore of my nerdism.
-Me.
Pee.Ess.
Regarding: Kelly
SHE'S COMING HOME. YAY YAY YAY YAY. Life without Kelly is like the most massive hole in my soul. I write this because it rhymes like the times.
10.11.09
I do love Orange Soda...
Because Sociology was canceled, and I am going to wait and eat lunch until my lunch break, I am currently in the library, and I feel like expressing my...dorkiness to the world; mkay? Mkay!
This is titled: Why I love stage movement.
Why do I love stage movement? There is really only one reason. I am not particularly good or particularly fond of it. It's not a camaraderie class, or a easy class. It's hard and I have to work to be decent. BUT, I love it. And why?
Because...it has scope for imagination:
Yes, while I am doing all my silly stomping and marching, squats and statues and what not, there is always one thing going on in my mind. Today, it was Mulan.
As we march across the room, to our distinctly asian music, I have one thought running through my mind; I. Am. Mulan. My warriors are all around me, all men, and I'm the secret woman. I have proceeded to sing "I'll Make A Man Out of You," all day today. Complete with warrior march. While I go to class.
As I raise my invisible "spear," it is not a spear to me, but a wand. I raise that wand and imagine my billowy robes. As I do the whole "move like taffy," exercise, I stick my arm in the dueling position, ready to AK* some of Voldemort's posterior.
I raise my hands in front of me; I am Rafiki raising Simba while on pride rock.
When we do sitting statues, I am not just Rachel; I am a super hero, in flying position. And yes, my name is often 'The Feline Avenger.' My cape billows from my neck.
After doing 3 minutes of marching (Yes. 3 minutes. Of solid marching. My thighs are becoming quite hard.) and when I have to arise from the ground, I pretend I am a vampire, a newborn. (sorry, all you vampirelore people out there; twilight sparkly vampires will always be my favourite idea of a vampire.) Or a tigress. Or something even stupider.
When we do our rapier work (yes, me. With a sword. Lord help us all), I pretend as if I am slashing Zombies.
And we do everything to either Asian Techno or Asian Swing or Asian Battle Songs. Give or take; imagine that.
[end of nerdfit.]
I hope everyone is well. I saw Annie and it was quite precious. Jazzy was stupendous. And everyone else was alright. :) And that pencil moustache really suits you; reminds me of something else...
I found a hotpink guitar paperclip in the library. I'm taking it; because it makes my day. One has to find the small things in life to enjoy. Sure life is tough but we just have to count our blessings. I was feeling off yesterday, and I thought, "God, why ever are you not showering me with blessings? I don't understand. I'm a decent Christian; I have a slight potty mouth and I gossip something awful, but I'm trying to fix myself. I love everybody and try to do my best in everything; but why are things not going my way?" But then, I started thinking about it, and things are going my way; slowly but surely. And I am truly blessed; but it's all about patience my friends; patience.
My motto that has been deemed a stupid motto by someone who is even stupider is this:
Pray about everything, worry about nothing, and do your best.
[end of Godspeech.]
Speaking of speeches, I got my grade back from communications on my Zombie Speech (In 3 parts: The Zombie's Prevalence in Pop Culture, The Zombie, and Survival), and I made a 100. Speaking of this, reminds me of something else: I have this whole outlook on life where I will things to go my way. When it involves me at least. I pray, and then I will that I'll do well and... I do. It's fascinating. "It's like magic!"
...I fell like such a freak. More so than usual. :(
I also feel a bit like Pollyanna. "Let's play the glad game..."
Sadly, I do play the glad game. I was talking to Chris the other day and he was complaining about having so many scripts to read and I told him it could be worse; he could be bald. He agreed; that would be worse. We then figured out that he would be bald when he got older; I think it disheartened him a little. And then, after this whole eye surgery deal, I told him it could be worse. And he didn't see how, but I told him he could be blind. And he agreed, it could be worse.
...I'm so infectious. I'm like the happy disease. And I'm using a whole lotta semi-colons (;) for some reason. Pardon me, English teachers as you wriggle in pain.
Actually my happiness is making me vomit a little because it's so out of character. I am usually so... snarky.
So, onward with snark. November 21st, New Moon is arriving to theatres. One of two things is going to happen: I am going to dress like Alice Cullen, the love of my life who I want to be so bad it hurts; and I am going to squeal with girlish delight at the whole experience because I secretly love those books with all my heart that isn't taken up by Harry Potter or Nutella. Which doesn't leave much space, but you know...whatever.
I do like Edward Cullen, I do. I like his broody prissiness. I just don't like the fact that he watches Bella sleep. That's... creepy. That and the fact that he actually goes back and oils her window so he can properly sneak in without making a sound.
Edward: That's creepy.
I do hate Bella though, although, as bad as Kristen Stewart is, I do enjoy her portrayal of Bella. She takes the whine factor down a lot. And I am thankful. I do hope she plays off the whole "Edward's gone," thing better than Bella does in the book. 4 blank pages with nothing but months on them to show the passing of time... please Bella. No boy is worth wallowing in self pity! I haven't done that since...
...
...Let's play the glad game! At least Edward isn't dead!
[Just kidding; the last time I wallowed in self pity wasn't too long ago, (I usually light a candle and listen to Celine Dion and just...lay there. My mother tells me I can be a little dramatic. *sigh* C'est Vrai.) but as for the matter of doing it over a boy, I don't think I've done that since like, the 8th grade.]
But let's talk about High Brow literature: Harry Potter.
Voldemort is. The best. Character. In this world. EVER.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I am Lord Voldemort. That was always my Harry Potter nickname. Well, technically we called me Lord Voldiepizzle [My gangster Wizard Name; yo.], but still, more or less.
Which brings me to the birthday present I still have to put on my car. Kaley [lovingly] sent me 5 bumper stickers that look like this:
I can't find an adequate picture, but they say "Republicans For Voldemort."
Now, yes, I realize this is supposed to be an anti-republican joke (Oh, you liberals are so witty!), but, once I am both Lord Voldemort and I think Lord Voldemort is the...cats meow, AND I am a God-fearing Republican, it must go on my car. But where to put it? I think it needs to cover up that cheesy one that says "And what difference do you make," that I didn't put on there because it's cheesy. No one will help me take it off though, because they think it's cool. Blegh.
...HARRY POTTER RULES.
So, yeah, that's life. Pretty delicious, I daresay, but busy. I read a lot. And watch A LOT of Disney movies. And Anne of Green Gables. I'm getting in touch with my inner child or something. Whatever.
Speaking of reading, I have one tiny qualm to discuss before I exit. If I, have to read, one more book with a beautiful but unnoticed heroine, who gets the dreamy popular guy and they fall in love within two weeks, and no one notices her but him, and oh, she's so special now, and wait, SHE IS SPECIAL in the way that Jesus was special to her whole entire race and she's going to be the saviour to them all, all while having her dreamy mancake and being gorgeous and unique and interesting, I AM GOING TO BARF. All these cheesy teen books are so cheesy. I've read a few lately because I'm not feeling up to reading the meaty classics I usually read, but heck, I'm dragging those bad boys out. I cannot take another selfless and gorgeous heroine. I can't. I can't do it guys.
WHY CAN'T A HEROINE BE FAT AND UGLY UNIQUE. I feel like I'm ugly, (I've already figured this one out; it's good to be ugly [in fact I favour being ugly] because then people like you for you and not for your looks. America is obsessed with looks; it's good too be liked for more.)or at least not ubber attractive by normal standards, and I'm unique and interesting. AUTHORS, QUIT MAKING YOUR HEROINE'S BEAUTIFUL. I'M TIRED.
Thank you Jane Eyre. For simply existing.
(sidenote: WHY IS THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME NOT A BROADWAY MUSICAL [besides in Germany.] I WANT TO KNOW.)
I'm going to go get lunch now. G'dbye.
-Me.
Pee.Ess.
GUYS I THINK I'M PSYCHIC. NO SERIOUSLY. I had a dream last night that my mom worked for Sesame Street and she had kept Elmo, Grover and Oscar the Grouch and they were in my closet. I don't know why I dreamed this because there was honestly no catalyst.
THEN I FOUND OUT IT WAS SESAME STREETS 40TH ANNIVERSARY. THIS MORNING.
I. Have. A. GIFT.
*Avada Kedavra: The Killing Curse. DUH.
This is titled: Why I love stage movement.
Why do I love stage movement? There is really only one reason. I am not particularly good or particularly fond of it. It's not a camaraderie class, or a easy class. It's hard and I have to work to be decent. BUT, I love it. And why?
Because...it has scope for imagination:
Yes, while I am doing all my silly stomping and marching, squats and statues and what not, there is always one thing going on in my mind. Today, it was Mulan.
As we march across the room, to our distinctly asian music, I have one thought running through my mind; I. Am. Mulan. My warriors are all around me, all men, and I'm the secret woman. I have proceeded to sing "I'll Make A Man Out of You," all day today. Complete with warrior march. While I go to class.
As I raise my invisible "spear," it is not a spear to me, but a wand. I raise that wand and imagine my billowy robes. As I do the whole "move like taffy," exercise, I stick my arm in the dueling position, ready to AK* some of Voldemort's posterior.
I raise my hands in front of me; I am Rafiki raising Simba while on pride rock.
When we do sitting statues, I am not just Rachel; I am a super hero, in flying position. And yes, my name is often 'The Feline Avenger.' My cape billows from my neck.
After doing 3 minutes of marching (Yes. 3 minutes. Of solid marching. My thighs are becoming quite hard.) and when I have to arise from the ground, I pretend I am a vampire, a newborn. (sorry, all you vampirelore people out there; twilight sparkly vampires will always be my favourite idea of a vampire.) Or a tigress. Or something even stupider.
When we do our rapier work (yes, me. With a sword. Lord help us all), I pretend as if I am slashing Zombies.
And we do everything to either Asian Techno or Asian Swing or Asian Battle Songs. Give or take; imagine that.
[end of nerdfit.]
I hope everyone is well. I saw Annie and it was quite precious. Jazzy was stupendous. And everyone else was alright. :) And that pencil moustache really suits you; reminds me of something else...
I found a hotpink guitar paperclip in the library. I'm taking it; because it makes my day. One has to find the small things in life to enjoy. Sure life is tough but we just have to count our blessings. I was feeling off yesterday, and I thought, "God, why ever are you not showering me with blessings? I don't understand. I'm a decent Christian; I have a slight potty mouth and I gossip something awful, but I'm trying to fix myself. I love everybody and try to do my best in everything; but why are things not going my way?" But then, I started thinking about it, and things are going my way; slowly but surely. And I am truly blessed; but it's all about patience my friends; patience.
My motto that has been deemed a stupid motto by someone who is even stupider is this:
Pray about everything, worry about nothing, and do your best.
[end of Godspeech.]
Speaking of speeches, I got my grade back from communications on my Zombie Speech (In 3 parts: The Zombie's Prevalence in Pop Culture, The Zombie, and Survival), and I made a 100. Speaking of this, reminds me of something else: I have this whole outlook on life where I will things to go my way. When it involves me at least. I pray, and then I will that I'll do well and... I do. It's fascinating. "It's like magic!"
...I fell like such a freak. More so than usual. :(
I also feel a bit like Pollyanna. "Let's play the glad game..."
Sadly, I do play the glad game. I was talking to Chris the other day and he was complaining about having so many scripts to read and I told him it could be worse; he could be bald. He agreed; that would be worse. We then figured out that he would be bald when he got older; I think it disheartened him a little. And then, after this whole eye surgery deal, I told him it could be worse. And he didn't see how, but I told him he could be blind. And he agreed, it could be worse.
...I'm so infectious. I'm like the happy disease. And I'm using a whole lotta semi-colons (;) for some reason. Pardon me, English teachers as you wriggle in pain.
Actually my happiness is making me vomit a little because it's so out of character. I am usually so... snarky.
So, onward with snark. November 21st, New Moon is arriving to theatres. One of two things is going to happen: I am going to dress like Alice Cullen, the love of my life who I want to be so bad it hurts; and I am going to squeal with girlish delight at the whole experience because I secretly love those books with all my heart that isn't taken up by Harry Potter or Nutella. Which doesn't leave much space, but you know...whatever.
I do like Edward Cullen, I do. I like his broody prissiness. I just don't like the fact that he watches Bella sleep. That's... creepy. That and the fact that he actually goes back and oils her window so he can properly sneak in without making a sound.
Edward: That's creepy.
I do hate Bella though, although, as bad as Kristen Stewart is, I do enjoy her portrayal of Bella. She takes the whine factor down a lot. And I am thankful. I do hope she plays off the whole "Edward's gone," thing better than Bella does in the book. 4 blank pages with nothing but months on them to show the passing of time... please Bella. No boy is worth wallowing in self pity! I haven't done that since...
...
...Let's play the glad game! At least Edward isn't dead!
[Just kidding; the last time I wallowed in self pity wasn't too long ago, (I usually light a candle and listen to Celine Dion and just...lay there. My mother tells me I can be a little dramatic. *sigh* C'est Vrai.) but as for the matter of doing it over a boy, I don't think I've done that since like, the 8th grade.]
But let's talk about High Brow literature: Harry Potter.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I am Lord Voldemort. That was always my Harry Potter nickname. Well, technically we called me Lord Voldiepizzle [My gangster Wizard Name; yo.], but still, more or less.
Which brings me to the birthday present I still have to put on my car. Kaley [lovingly] sent me 5 bumper stickers that look like this:
I can't find an adequate picture, but they say "Republicans For Voldemort."
Now, yes, I realize this is supposed to be an anti-republican joke (Oh, you liberals are so witty!), but, once I am both Lord Voldemort and I think Lord Voldemort is the...cats meow, AND I am a God-fearing Republican, it must go on my car. But where to put it? I think it needs to cover up that cheesy one that says "And what difference do you make," that I didn't put on there because it's cheesy. No one will help me take it off though, because they think it's cool. Blegh.
...HARRY POTTER RULES.
So, yeah, that's life. Pretty delicious, I daresay, but busy. I read a lot. And watch A LOT of Disney movies. And Anne of Green Gables. I'm getting in touch with my inner child or something. Whatever.
Speaking of reading, I have one tiny qualm to discuss before I exit. If I, have to read, one more book with a beautiful but unnoticed heroine, who gets the dreamy popular guy and they fall in love within two weeks, and no one notices her but him, and oh, she's so special now, and wait, SHE IS SPECIAL in the way that Jesus was special to her whole entire race and she's going to be the saviour to them all, all while having her dreamy mancake and being gorgeous and unique and interesting, I AM GOING TO BARF. All these cheesy teen books are so cheesy. I've read a few lately because I'm not feeling up to reading the meaty classics I usually read, but heck, I'm dragging those bad boys out. I cannot take another selfless and gorgeous heroine. I can't. I can't do it guys.
WHY CAN'T A HEROINE BE FAT AND UGLY UNIQUE. I feel like I'm ugly, (I've already figured this one out; it's good to be ugly [in fact I favour being ugly] because then people like you for you and not for your looks. America is obsessed with looks; it's good too be liked for more.)or at least not ubber attractive by normal standards, and I'm unique and interesting. AUTHORS, QUIT MAKING YOUR HEROINE'S BEAUTIFUL. I'M TIRED.
Thank you Jane Eyre. For simply existing.
(sidenote: WHY IS THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME NOT A BROADWAY MUSICAL [besides in Germany.] I WANT TO KNOW.)
I'm going to go get lunch now. G'dbye.
-Me.
Pee.Ess.
GUYS I THINK I'M PSYCHIC. NO SERIOUSLY. I had a dream last night that my mom worked for Sesame Street and she had kept Elmo, Grover and Oscar the Grouch and they were in my closet. I don't know why I dreamed this because there was honestly no catalyst.
THEN I FOUND OUT IT WAS SESAME STREETS 40TH ANNIVERSARY. THIS MORNING.
I. Have. A. GIFT.
*Avada Kedavra: The Killing Curse. DUH.
25.2.09
Robbie is Rap-tastic
You know how Graphic Novels are usually associated with dorks who dress up in leather and go to things like Dragon*Con? Well, I guess Disney is now shooting for that audience because look at their latest addition to the family.
"An All New Graphic Novel." You've went too far HSM. Way too far.
Adding too going to far, look at the new "required" book in the bookstore for a COLLEGE CLASS.
Let me say it again: REQUIRED. What? This is probably the worse example of good literature (writing style), ever, and it's REQUIRED. Not saying it's not a good story, but for College? Bah. But there were other vampire books so I only pray (oh please, oh please) that it's a class on Vampires and not the awesomeness of Twilight.
Now, lets talk about immaturity. This is me. In a shopping cart:
It was very painful and I had a headache afterwards. No one would know it but when clothes are on top of you (and Depends, Hannah Montana calenders, Oprah magazine, diapers, and shoes) it gets rather heavy. But no one realized I was in it the whole time we went around the store... except when I whispered and they looked startled at the basket. Luckily Alex and Brianna kept their cool until AFTER we left.
I sort of regret not jumping out at someone. :(
In other things, Kelly and I went to see Rabun Gap's Cirque. The movements were excellent (this one kid did a push up; sideways; on a pole; a vertical pole) and with all the jumping, standing on rubber balls, hoops, nets and the tiny Asian in a banana suit, I was amazed. But with everything, I am horribly critical, and even though their set was fantastic (or at least the city part; the forest was horrid) and their energy superb, their costumes had that terrible pulled-yet-inconsistent-style to it. Not enough jazz to them.
Whereas there movement was terrific, their acting sort of lacked (sort of, not terrible) at least the two leads were good. Some tall boy in a striped hat and Dylan Duvall played the magician or something. He was definitely the best (which is ironic because the best one learned under the leadership of Oh Mighty Tyrant) and was the only one w/o face make-up. Adding to that, none of those kids knew squat about doing face-makeup. It looked like a three year old had painted on for Halloween.
Afterwards, Kelly and I went back to the senior parking lot and played with her sisters camera: we screamed for it, we laughed for it, we goofed off for it, we got under her running car for it. It was magic. Everett showed up and we attempted to do pictures with me as the third wheel looking mortified at them, but they never turned out well.
We also went to Fatz before and got Everett as our waiter, who brought us Air Heads (blue raspberry) and paid for our meal. But it was all good because we left him a $20 tip.
Saturday was game night and Everett, Kelly and I dominated at Cranium. I lovingly got nominated to do all the acting bits which was great because they guessed them right off. Afterwards we went upstairs and watched The Soup. Or at least Kelly and I did because their was a mass clearing of everyone in the middle of it.
So, yesterday I had my advisor meeting about arranging classes for next semester and I get tons of theatre ones. I have one dance class that runs from 10:10-1:15 and then another movement class that is 2 hours long. So basically, I'm going to be a muscle with and perhaps a little bit more rhythm. Not much; but a little. Along with that I have the possibility of taking a make-up class and a lecture class with Terrence Mann that includes lots of movies. Only thing wrong with this is that my first class would be at 8 in the morning and my Terrence Mann class would end at 7, so essentially, if I go with this plan (hint: I don't think so) I get no sleep. Along with that Susan really wants me to become a design major vs. acting because I apparently have talent in the field. But just wait until she sees my debonair acting. Yeah. I wiggle my eyebrows at that.
Speaking of me and my rhythm and my debonair acting:
Seussical is essentially wearing me out. I scraped my knee yesterday, thus dubbing this play the next Footloose. But, regardless of all the sweat, all the soreness, all the orange juice, all the tiredness and droppyness, I would have it no other way. Everytime I feel my sore thigh I think about how much fun I'm having and I smile and hit it again for more reminecence.
I wish I could say I feel like I'm doing well, but this whole synchrony thing is killing me. Perhaps after an intense dance workout which would include various other things (such as popsickles and nailpolish) I may be able to do those C things with my legs. But, all the same, I can't help feeling like I'm way TOO big compaired to my fellows. For example:
(i.e. I'm the one in the striped shirt) Actually, I don't know what I was doing in this picture. Perhaps I look just slightly better now? Besides my inability to dance, I sing all the songs extreamly low which isn't a bad thing, but I just hope it's on key. Adding to all this, did you know it is next to impossible to get my shoulders to move? I try to shimmy and I end up looking like I'm having a shaking fit all over. I hardly know.
Oh, and I did not obtain a poster, so until I get one, Sevy's windows shall be blank. :( Adding to that, I have window markers in blue and white and guess what is being created on the back of Sev on March 1st? Just guess because, ooooh, it's going to be delicious. I wiggle my eyebrows at this as well.
Everything is just too much fun. :)
And now, I leave you with a gift from the gods. Robbie has created a little rap for us regarding a song from Seuss, and I daresay I was just fortuate enough to have the means to record it at the time. Enjoy because I surely do:
-Me
"An All New Graphic Novel." You've went too far HSM. Way too far.Adding too going to far, look at the new "required" book in the bookstore for a COLLEGE CLASS.
Let me say it again: REQUIRED. What? This is probably the worse example of good literature (writing style), ever, and it's REQUIRED. Not saying it's not a good story, but for College? Bah. But there were other vampire books so I only pray (oh please, oh please) that it's a class on Vampires and not the awesomeness of Twilight.Now, lets talk about immaturity. This is me. In a shopping cart:
It was very painful and I had a headache afterwards. No one would know it but when clothes are on top of you (and Depends, Hannah Montana calenders, Oprah magazine, diapers, and shoes) it gets rather heavy. But no one realized I was in it the whole time we went around the store... except when I whispered and they looked startled at the basket. Luckily Alex and Brianna kept their cool until AFTER we left.I sort of regret not jumping out at someone. :(In other things, Kelly and I went to see Rabun Gap's Cirque. The movements were excellent (this one kid did a push up; sideways; on a pole; a vertical pole) and with all the jumping, standing on rubber balls, hoops, nets and the tiny Asian in a banana suit, I was amazed. But with everything, I am horribly critical, and even though their set was fantastic (or at least the city part; the forest was horrid) and their energy superb, their costumes had that terrible pulled-yet-inconsistent-style to it. Not enough jazz to them.
Whereas there movement was terrific, their acting sort of lacked (sort of, not terrible) at least the two leads were good. Some tall boy in a striped hat and Dylan Duvall played the magician or something. He was definitely the best (which is ironic because the best one learned under the leadership of Oh Mighty Tyrant) and was the only one w/o face make-up. Adding to that, none of those kids knew squat about doing face-makeup. It looked like a three year old had painted on for Halloween.
Afterwards, Kelly and I went back to the senior parking lot and played with her sisters camera: we screamed for it, we laughed for it, we goofed off for it, we got under her running car for it. It was magic. Everett showed up and we attempted to do pictures with me as the third wheel looking mortified at them, but they never turned out well.
We also went to Fatz before and got Everett as our waiter, who brought us Air Heads (blue raspberry) and paid for our meal. But it was all good because we left him a $20 tip.
Saturday was game night and Everett, Kelly and I dominated at Cranium. I lovingly got nominated to do all the acting bits which was great because they guessed them right off. Afterwards we went upstairs and watched The Soup. Or at least Kelly and I did because their was a mass clearing of everyone in the middle of it.
So, yesterday I had my advisor meeting about arranging classes for next semester and I get tons of theatre ones. I have one dance class that runs from 10:10-1:15 and then another movement class that is 2 hours long. So basically, I'm going to be a muscle with and perhaps a little bit more rhythm. Not much; but a little. Along with that I have the possibility of taking a make-up class and a lecture class with Terrence Mann that includes lots of movies. Only thing wrong with this is that my first class would be at 8 in the morning and my Terrence Mann class would end at 7, so essentially, if I go with this plan (hint: I don't think so) I get no sleep. Along with that Susan really wants me to become a design major vs. acting because I apparently have talent in the field. But just wait until she sees my debonair acting. Yeah. I wiggle my eyebrows at that.
Speaking of me and my rhythm and my debonair acting:
Seussical is essentially wearing me out. I scraped my knee yesterday, thus dubbing this play the next Footloose. But, regardless of all the sweat, all the soreness, all the orange juice, all the tiredness and droppyness, I would have it no other way. Everytime I feel my sore thigh I think about how much fun I'm having and I smile and hit it again for more reminecence.I wish I could say I feel like I'm doing well, but this whole synchrony thing is killing me. Perhaps after an intense dance workout which would include various other things (such as popsickles and nailpolish) I may be able to do those C things with my legs. But, all the same, I can't help feeling like I'm way TOO big compaired to my fellows. For example:
(i.e. I'm the one in the striped shirt) Actually, I don't know what I was doing in this picture. Perhaps I look just slightly better now? Besides my inability to dance, I sing all the songs extreamly low which isn't a bad thing, but I just hope it's on key. Adding to all this, did you know it is next to impossible to get my shoulders to move? I try to shimmy and I end up looking like I'm having a shaking fit all over. I hardly know.Oh, and I did not obtain a poster, so until I get one, Sevy's windows shall be blank. :( Adding to that, I have window markers in blue and white and guess what is being created on the back of Sev on March 1st? Just guess because, ooooh, it's going to be delicious. I wiggle my eyebrows at this as well.
Everything is just too much fun. :)
And now, I leave you with a gift from the gods. Robbie has created a little rap for us regarding a song from Seuss, and I daresay I was just fortuate enough to have the means to record it at the time. Enjoy because I surely do:
-Me
16.2.09
I CAN'T TAKE IT! AHHHHH...
I hate days when you are pretty much on edge. All. The. Time.
First, I loose an eye [part of a hook and eye I might add] for my sewing sampler, then I cut one off my old 80s dress from Drama Proma III. So then I loose it, and, at the last minute I get one from the sewing room. Then I realize we are going to have a written test and it's 2 minutes before class and ah, I haven't studied.
In good news, I got my eye in place, I think I made a delightful grade on my paper, I found my CatCard which I also lost, and then, hey, I realized I lost my library book. For over due books it's 20 dollars after 14 days (because I'm an honours student.) and I think I left it in the black box after I had class, but I'm certainly not sure.
Ahh, ahh, please be found oh book on Halloween. Be found. D:
-Me
First, I loose an eye [part of a hook and eye I might add] for my sewing sampler, then I cut one off my old 80s dress from Drama Proma III. So then I loose it, and, at the last minute I get one from the sewing room. Then I realize we are going to have a written test and it's 2 minutes before class and ah, I haven't studied.
In good news, I got my eye in place, I think I made a delightful grade on my paper, I found my CatCard which I also lost, and then, hey, I realized I lost my library book. For over due books it's 20 dollars after 14 days (because I'm an honours student.) and I think I left it in the black box after I had class, but I'm certainly not sure.
Ahh, ahh, please be found oh book on Halloween. Be found. D:
-Me
13.1.09
Oh yeah, I was supposed to be reading my Psychology...
Ahhh, my first Acting class
woeirlewj, it was oddly, and most unexpectedly, amazing. Guess that's what happens when you trust God to make it okay for you. I was expecting to be surrounded by kids who floored me. First off, only 10 in the class. Secondly, the rough majority are technical. Thirdly, I have more experience than any of them, and I am the only one who is part of a big important theatre troupe: A little something called Overlook Theatre Company. Besides, our stage kicks FPAC's any day.
To that, I mean the new one. SMACPAC, not FAC.
So, needless to say, I am super excited. And Respect for Acting is optional reading (thankfully.) Even though I had Taylor's reassurance that it was a very helpful book:
Rachel snorts at her book "respect for acting."
Taylor Bryson at 5:59pm January 8
that is a really good book
Rachel Alford at 4:32pm January 9
Really? It's assigned, and I thought it would be a piece of "Acting. Is an Art." kind of crap, but you just gave me some hope.
Taylor Bryson at 6:08pm January 9
no its a very useful book. alot of acting books are dont look at them as something that will be broing or typical..it really helped me get a grasp on my acting
But now that it is no longer mandatory, I still may pass. Besides, I already have a method down. It's called: Get on stage and have a blast. And sweat. Lots of sweat.
Anyhoo, in classypoo we got in a circle and talked about ourselves, and I have to keep an Acting Journal and document the... discoveries in my acting each day. I believe I am really going to like my teacher (of course, after what I am used to Voldemort would seem like a nice teacher) and he seems to know what he is doing. Although I have my method doesn't mean I won't listen and try someone else's. I'm glad I have it with a few people I know and we did all sorts of bonding activities today. Our teacher said the best way to work is as a unit, and aye aye, I agree. I mean, look at us. We all do the plays and we also all go eat pizza and watch movies and don't play tricks on anyone and have bloggers and EVERYTHING. Bonding.
Speaking of us, I went and visited the play site today. Lots of fun fabric, fun with Scotty and Everett, fun anonymously sending Sam messages of this picture of Everett...
...fun sitting there doing nothing while everyone did something, fat jokes steered in my direction, seeing Paul F, eating clementines and everything else in sight, and I got to see what my jacket will look like:
And I want the blue beehive wig. FYI.
Oh and I sent Troy a picture of his fabric because he pestered me all yesterday asking me if I had seen Scotty and his reply was simply:
Lol sweet
Nothing says "Thank you" like that. I guess it's because he can't see the keys enough to txt out a decent response.
...I say that with love.
And get this... guess who wants to play the female werewolf in New Moon, which is the sequel to Twilight.
But I do like her jacket. A lot. Anyhoodle, I despise her in the HSM franchise (her, her character, her singing, everything) and for her to taint the presence of my favourite whack vampire obsession love series?
NO.
-me
Pee.Ess. REHEARSALS IN LIKE TWO HOURS AHH.
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-
21.11.08
Things I've Been Meaning To Write About But Haven't
NEW HARRY POTTER TRAILER. STILL IN AWE.
TWILIGHT TODAY (OMG.)
Speaking of Twilight, I am so, so, so, so, so, SO excited. Kelly and I are going today at 4:30; dressing up of course. Then we will probably eat and possible see it at 9 tonight. SO, SO, SO excited. I just hope it's up to my expectations. And I hope Bella is ten times more cooler than, well, Bella. I HATE THE LEAD CHARACTER... does that make sense?
And I have such a girlcrush on Alice it's ridiculous. WHY IS SHE SO AWESOME?! D:
Why can't I be that awesome? :(
ADAM PASCAL:
Guess what, I met him. I saw him in the flesh. My first thought? Whoa, he's freaky skinny. I mean tiny. But he sang to me, and the when he actually sang the songs I recognized I was in heaven. I'm pretty sure he looked at me several times, but once I had my mouth agape and was probably drooling slightly in awe he never lingered. After he left the stage we made such an uproar and he came and did a song he wrote for his wife. But I was going to be miffed if he hadn't sang 'One Song Glory' so he read my mind and DID. And a little bit of me died in happiness.
Afterwards he came out to do autographs. And he was so...tan? Like really tan. So I went up there, and the guy before me made an idiot of himself ("this is the best show ever. EVER. Use my silver Sharpie. Okay, sign the CD too. BEST SHOW EVER.") so I didn't feel so bad when I got my program signed and a picture.
I also refuse to look at the picture because my mom's first response when she looked at it was "Gash, Rachel." and was then followed by laughing. So I presume I looked pretty retarded. She told me I just looked really, really, really excited and she would look the same way if Tom Selick walked through the door. And I reckon I would too.
We then tried to imagine what I would look like next to Daniel Radcliff. We couldn't.
And I figured out what the wheat field battle is all about. Since the whole sixth book is nothing but: FLASHBACK, stalk Malfoy, FLASHBACK, stalk Malfoy, FLASHBACK, omg no. And once that essentially doesn't make any action, they decided, hey lets have the DE attack the Burrow's wheat fields.
To say I have no idea doesn't cover it.
HSM 3... how I have said nothing about ye!
First off: Um, hey, I doubt it was Nikki who really wanted the soundtrack. And I doubt it was Nikki who really just had to see the movie on opening night. I'm just saying, Nikki's just a little too cool for that. After all she was the one sitting in the back while someone said "this is the best show ever. EVER. Use my silver Sharpie. Okay, sign the CD too. BEST SHOW EVER." I'm just saying, that's all.
Anyway, it was very, very, very good. Forever and ever, I will hate the idea of Troy and Gabriella together. I just hate her. And her dresses were too short. Literally.
Just imagine this dress with a lot more twilling. And he's holding her like she has cooties or something.
AND WAY TO RUIN YOUR PROM JACKET. OH WAIT IT DOESNT' MATTER BECAUSE YOU DON'T GO TO PROM.
*sob* I can't come back. *sob*
Stupid.
Anywho, the plot was a little... lacking. Go figure. But the DANCING WAS FABULOUS. What I loved was the scenes they did on stage, because their sets actually looked pretty cool compared to HSM 1. And to be honest, no none of them CAN in fact sing. Zacquisha can, but his constipated look kind of ruins it. And Ryan can also (As long as you don't wear gay matching hats, I won't judge.) But everyone else? Blargh. Especially Gabriella.
And the end almost mad me cry because I just went through all that junk. And they wear red and white? What...
And Sharpie's pants in that last scene. Yuck. Just, yuck. Hot pink pleather? I stopped wearing pants like that in, like the 5th grade.
Go with a nice cerulean or a pleasant plum.
-Me
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