A high-adrenaline rant that seriously overuses the term "in theory". Warning: May sound ridiculous in about a week.
...You ever get one of those little ideas that comes up gradually? You know, it starts as just the tiniest germ of an unlikely idea, tickling in the back of your brain, and you keep shoving it back and shoving it back, thinking, that's great, but it'd never work...
...And then, at some point, often late at night and in the dark, you finally give it the attention it deserves and realize not only that it could, plausibly, happen...but that you want it to really happen, want desperately for it to happen?
Such is the idea that's got me up right now, that got me out of bed, here at one in the morning, because it perked me up so much. ...And, believe me, on painkilling medicine that makes the taker drowsy, this isn't an easy thing to do.
...I think it must have started--like several insanities this year have started--with Jayj. In study hall about a week ago, or a little more, we'd got to talking about Scrooge on the Run, this play his Performing Arts I class was doing, and I'd shown a lot of interest in it, and in his stories about the class in general. He'd asked me if I was going to be in Performing Arts II, which starts at the half-year mark. I'd said no, that I wasn't in PA-I, and he'd kind of shrugged that off, like so what? I explained that even though in theory I had the time--the fallout of Piano/Keyboard had left me with a block free on Performing Arts days--I had psych where he had the class. He seemed a little disappointed, and so was I, but what could I do? My study hall scheduling just hadn't been kind.
But the idea was tempting, and it kept rattling around in the back of my brain ("like a BB in a tuna fish can", to quote Dave Barry), and I kept pushing it back.
Until tonight. Tonight, laying in the dark, attempting to go to sleep before my medicine caught up with me and made me queasy, as it sometimes does, I went over again in my mind about the play, and the knowledge that pretty soon there's going to be another play, and how I want to be in it, but between running Leo Club and doing competitions for SFE and, now, the newspaper club, it's not looking as good as it might. But I kept thinking about the play, and how it saved my year, and how much it'd given me--Jord and Tharin and Jayj included--and I realized that I wanted to act. Not for a living, no, no. Nothing like that. But that's been a big part of my senior year so far--and it's been something I've enjoyed doing in the past, for the most part. It's something I like a lot, and it's something that many of my friends do, and something that a couple of other friends want to. I don't want it to be a one-shot deal. And I'm getting impatient for the other play. And I want to see my play friends again. They do improv in the class, and I want to, too. They do plays, and stage stuff, and writing, and I want to, too. ...And what's more, I've wanted to since the play began.
And tonight, there in the dark, the thought in the back of my head finally got the attention it deserved.
I know, I know very well what Jayj says sometimes about PA-I. ...I also know that, despite that, he sticks with it because it's fully worth putting up with Mr. C, putting up with lack of stable curriculum, putting up with stupid scripts, putting up with everything. There aren't a ton of things we see fully eye-to-eye on, but I see why Jayj sticks with it...and I watched Scrooge on the Run, even after hearing the horror stories, and wished I'd been a part of it.
I want, and want very, very much, to be in PA-II. And it is possible...I'm just not sure how likely.
But it's still five weeks 'til the class starts. Enough time for me to hatch a plan. Enough time for me to pull off something good.
...I realize how much of a drip I sound, going at this like a military operation. But there're a lot of complications here. If I want in--and, oh, do I ever want in--I'm going to have to plan and execute this in fine detail.
Here's the second-biggest and at least the most immediate problem, the one I have to tackle before I tackle everything else. ...I have to get Mr. C to let me in. I think Jayj is wrong--I think PA-I is a prerequisite for PA-II. Which is not to say that I can't get around that--all I'd need is Mr. C's permission, a simple signature on a schedule paper. Having been one of the more reliable cast members of his play (which is not to brag, but I missed probably the least rehearsals and was the first to learn my lines), this shouldn't be too hard. In theory.
The problem? Mr. C scares me. ...And that's sort of disconcerting to write, but he does. I don't know what frightens me about the idea of coming up to him and going, hey, can you help me jump through a bunch of hoops so I can take your class?, but something really does. He's kind of not-very-easygoing, kind of severe, and I'm not sure how he'd take to this idea. Ideally, what I would need to do here is to have him invite me. If I can make him think it was his idea, then he'd be willing to talk Ms. Pacatte through the second complication, which involves her.
...This is where Jayj comes in. The first Friday we get back from school, I've got study hall with him, and I'm going to let him know what I'm thinking. He and Ben and Tharin are my play friends, and I think that if I do it right, I can get them to talk Mr. C into inviting me to take PA-II without him knowing I put them up to it. ...'Cause Jayj already wants me in, and if I explain this to Tharin--who is the senior class president and the very embodiment of you've got an in through me--she'll immediately get fired up about it and help me out, too. (Seriously. It is Tharin all over to be like that.) And Ben'll follow along if they need somebody else. In any case, between the three of them, Mr. C hopefully figures out that I want in and gets it in his head to help me out.
...If I'm lucky enough to get this far (and I'm thinking that I will--if push really does come to shove, I'll screw up enough courage to talk Mr. C into it myself), here comes the next problem, the biggest problem. Where PA-II is...is where I have AP psych. The beginnings of a solution are here: there's a psych class during my whole third-block study hall. Were I to scrap the study hall, I could, in theory, switch into that AP psych class, leaving fourth block free for PA-II.
This is where it gets tricky. I've spent half a year in her fourth-block AP psych class, and easygoing or not, I'm not sure how kindly Mrs. P's going to take to my wanting to switch to an entirely different block simply because I've gotten it into my head to take a random drama class. ...Besides that, third-block AP psych is pretty crowded, way more so than my fourth-block class. There may simply be too many people. Two people from my block have dropped the course...but have any from third block?
What I'll have going for me, if I make it this far, are two things. First, Mr. C and Mrs. P seem to get along pretty well. If Mr. C wants me in--which is to say, if Jayj and Tharin have helped me out a little--he'll take a few steps to try to get me in (this is yet another benefit of having the English department like me, I'm hoping). Secondly--well, it may be good or it may actually be bad, but I'm the top-ranked student in her fourth block class, average-wise. Whether this makes her trust my responsibility, or whether this makes her want to keep me there because there aren't as many kids in fourth block who do well as in third block, I don't know.
...But, like with Mr. C, I think I can get pretty far if I just talk to her. 'Cause, I mean, this is much more a hassle for me than for her. All she has to do is run one more copy for her third-block class. I've got to rearrange my entire schedule: without study hall time, I'll have to get all my AP psych notes done at home, in addition to other homework. I won't have that time to study on test days--other work at home. And it's going to lose me yet another forty minutes of study hall time down the road because switching into that AP psych class will switch my AP English seminar time to during-English-class, when everyone else has advisement. ...If I explain this to her, hopefully she'll see that there's something about PA-II that's making me willing to drive myself half-mad with work, and she'll cut me some much-needed slack.
With the schedule problems resolved (that is, with the further permission of Ms. S, my counselor--who'll probably shake her head in mock dismay at my giving up my free block, as though I were far too serious for a high school senior), the next people to tackle will be...
...My parents. 'Cause they have to give their permission to this crazy scheme.
Actually, this shouldn't be so hard. My dad already feels bad for making me take AP stats because it cut me out of Piano/Keyboard (well, technically, so did AP English, but no one was making me take that--that's the course I'dve given anything else up for), so when I tell him I want to take this course as a sort of Piano/Keyboard replacement, and explain to him all I'm willing to do for it, I think he'll think me a bit insane, too, but I think he'll give me his permission. ...It'll help when I tell him how wretchedly crowded my study halls are. ...And besides, didn't he say once that he wished there was something else I could've taken in its place? And in a very uncharacteristic decision, Dad said I could slack off a bit after the year's midpoint because the grades barely count anymore. Easy peasy.
As for my mom, the only thing I have to worry about is her coming to the conclusion that I'm driving myself nuts with homework just to have a class with a couple of friends. Which is half true, but I wouldn't do all this for digital imaging, not even for ASL, not for anything but this. She'll come around, especially after my dad does.
Which leaves one last hurdle: Mrs. W, my AP English teacher. But she should be the easiest of all. Conversation will go on without me in her Block 3B seminar group: we've got enough brains in that room to fill a laboratory. And it's the simplest of switches for her: cross me off that chart, pencil me onto the other one. Seminar groups are so flexible, and so relatively new, that it should really be all the same to her. ...Besides, I've never skipped a seminar (as several people have), and Bethie teases me constantly that I can do no wrong in Mrs. W's eyes anyway (and Bethie's not even in AP English!).
So, to review: I lose a block of precious study hall time, setting myself up for an insane amount of homework--plus homework for PA-II, which will be due on the same days as AP psych work. I'll still have 40 minutes of advisement on Day 2, and 40 minutes of study hall on days 1 and 3, but I'll lose my only time to talk to Jordan.
...Unless, of course, I can get him to come with me. Two will be a better argument for Mr. C's help than one, and he's got the same whole block of study hall to kill--he never does anything in it. He's got gym fourth block, but there isn't an easier class to switch. Heck, he could switch into third block gym--there has to still be one; I had it last year. ...Before my study hall with Jayj, I've got one the day before with Jord. Will definitely talk to him about this.
Anyway, if all goes well, I lose a huge chunk of free time, and thereby half of the little sanity I have left, but here's what I gain: A class I really like. AP psych with friends in it--Jen and Bunny--and I don't have any real friends in the one I'm in now. Play friends every alternate day, for 80 minutes, instead of every fourth day for 40 minutes. Drama experience. Another English course, which will please my parents. A payback for all the hassle that's come with the principal not splitting my English class (which would have gotten me Piano/Keyboard, but would have cut me out of all possibility of this). A way to get out of a series of truly wretched study halls. A better chance at an even better role in Mr. C's next play (you'll notice a good chunk of the biggest ones went to his PA-I kids). Other plays to be in in the meantime. A class to write for. Another class to actually look forward to ('cause I don't have many). Improv. Learning how to act, which is something I want.
...That's worth a little--okay, a lot of--extra work, right?
-Laurel
12.28.2002
You know, I meant to put up a big thing on my teeth coming out, and then I got all tired from the medication and didn't do anything, and I'm still not doing anything just now, 'cause I've got an essay to work on (in theory, but I've been up for two and a half hours and haven't touched it). So later, maybe.
-Laurel
-Laurel
12.25.2002
...Hey, it's my blog's first Christmas! *g*
Got a new computer this year! Am not on it--internet's not hooked up on it--it's mostly for college. The Windows XP program asked me to name it, though, which I thought was great, so I called it Dinny, after the mole from Brian Jacques's Mossflower. ...This isn't just because I'm reading Mattimeo; I've been wanting something named Dinny for a while now, 'cause I just think it's a really cool name, and Dinny's a happy, cool mole with a fun way of talking. ...Anyway, it fits: moles are hard, steady workers, right?
Tomorrow's my oral surgery to get my wisdom teeth out (merry day-after-Christmas to me...), so I've had my last meat for a while--meant to eat crunchy things, I know, but the only time I did was this morning, when I had a candy cane.
Gack, only 13 hours 'til the surgery, and I'll be sleeping for eight of them! No!
...Am not allowed to eat before it, so I may wake myself up around 1 or 2 in the morning just to have some cereal, so I don't starve too severely. Last time I had to do a dental-work-fast, I remember being incredibly hungry, almost to the point of keeling over, and I realize that they say nothing after six hours before because that's how long it takes for one's stomach to completely empty, and I'll be hungry in any case, but I don't care.
Lalala, think I'll stop here. Merry Christmas to all once more!
-Laurel
Got a new computer this year! Am not on it--internet's not hooked up on it--it's mostly for college. The Windows XP program asked me to name it, though, which I thought was great, so I called it Dinny, after the mole from Brian Jacques's Mossflower. ...This isn't just because I'm reading Mattimeo; I've been wanting something named Dinny for a while now, 'cause I just think it's a really cool name, and Dinny's a happy, cool mole with a fun way of talking. ...Anyway, it fits: moles are hard, steady workers, right?
Tomorrow's my oral surgery to get my wisdom teeth out (merry day-after-Christmas to me...), so I've had my last meat for a while--meant to eat crunchy things, I know, but the only time I did was this morning, when I had a candy cane.
Gack, only 13 hours 'til the surgery, and I'll be sleeping for eight of them! No!
...Am not allowed to eat before it, so I may wake myself up around 1 or 2 in the morning just to have some cereal, so I don't starve too severely. Last time I had to do a dental-work-fast, I remember being incredibly hungry, almost to the point of keeling over, and I realize that they say nothing after six hours before because that's how long it takes for one's stomach to completely empty, and I'll be hungry in any case, but I don't care.
Lalala, think I'll stop here. Merry Christmas to all once more!
-Laurel
12.24.2002
Lala...was going to type up a nice big Christmas-Eve thing, but wrote it in my journal instead 'cause my brother got busy down here trying out the computer game I got him for Christmas (we exchange our two gifts on Christmas Eve, just 'cause my brother can't wait 'til Christmas morning to get something).
So instead I'll just put up the lyrics to a Christmas song I've forgotten to listen to this year, but will tonight.
"Welcome to Our World", Chris Rice
Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You’ve been promised, we’ve been waiting
Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child
Hope that You don’t mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven’s silence
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world
Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world
...Merry Christmas, Ananda and Daf and Zinni, Lily and Bethie and Aneya, Melly and Bunny, Jord and Jayj, Bryan and Aubrey, Matt (D.) and Erik, Erica and Christy, the other hooligans, everyone else from the play, Angie, John Dutton (though we haven't met), Samweli and Mugisha and Sunil (be safe, our children).
-Laurel[/Ledge/Lesser-Villain [Laurel]/Peaches]
So instead I'll just put up the lyrics to a Christmas song I've forgotten to listen to this year, but will tonight.
"Welcome to Our World", Chris Rice
Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You’ve been promised, we’ve been waiting
Welcome Holy Child
Welcome Holy Child
Hope that You don’t mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven’s silence
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world
Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world
...Merry Christmas, Ananda and Daf and Zinni, Lily and Bethie and Aneya, Melly and Bunny, Jord and Jayj, Bryan and Aubrey, Matt (D.) and Erik, Erica and Christy, the other hooligans, everyone else from the play, Angie, John Dutton (though we haven't met), Samweli and Mugisha and Sunil (be safe, our children).
-Laurel[/Ledge/Lesser-Villain [Laurel]/Peaches]
12.22.2002
Yeah, okay, I'm hoping that this is the link to my recent breakdown of Two Towers, but I get this feeling like it's Daf's instead. Right. Somebody had some problems with the Topaz Meanderings template.
Anyway, movie was brill, seeing my friends was brill, and I get to see them again tomorrow.
Get my wisdom teeth out on the 26th, which promises to be an interesting experience, to say the least: everyone has told me that it's going to hurt, which I'm not sure I appreciate (your breakdown was the kindest, Daf, and I thank you, even if you went easy on me), but Melly and Bunny are coming over that afternoon with their Christmas presents to me, and I just get to hope I don't feel too much like carp when they come. It shouldn't be too bad so long as I don't get open-root or something, which I understand is what we go to such lengths to avoid.
So I guess I should be eating all the crunchy foods I can for the next few days, on the theory that I'm about to subside into soup, milkshakes, and Cream of Wheat. I plan to watch a heck of a lot of M*A*S*H, not to mention my two Cyrano de Bergerac movies for AP English (well, one is Roxanne, so that should be fun)...and I should probably read some Great Expectations and do some AP psych, but we'll see whether that happens 'til about the 31st. I'm guessing not.
Hopefully we can get another play-cast party going this break, but clearing all our schedules on short notice really isn't something we're good at, so I'm gonna file that one under not-ruddy-likely as well.
Recently joined the newspaper club, which means that I get to screw round on Friday afternoons with a bunch of fellow English nerds and argue with Jayj on a regular basis. ...Both sound like fun to me. *g*
...You would think that if any group of students could salvage our incredibly-mediocre school newsletter, we could, but we'll see. We can all write, but we're not incredibly motivated.
I should do a big thing on one of the extracurricular clubs--maybe the robotics team or something. Hm. ...Will resist the temptation to spotlight one of my own clubs; that's tacky.
Am definitely doing some more Quenya stuff--the upstairs computer, which had all the files on it, burnt out long ago, but I managed to salvage all my writing files and most of the Quenya--by sheer grace of God, I'm thinking (it hadn't turned on in a week, it turned on once more for me, I got the files on disks, it never turned back on again--could be a coincidence, but it could be all the please-don't-let-me-lose-four-years-of-work). Will look those over tonight, as I definitely am getting impatient, and wish to proceed to sentences, rather than kindergarten-style phrases: "a king and a queen", "one horse and two ships", etc.
Hm, think I've rambled on quite long enough. Will update my side-columns, then get some Quenya going.
-Laurel
Anyway, movie was brill, seeing my friends was brill, and I get to see them again tomorrow.
Get my wisdom teeth out on the 26th, which promises to be an interesting experience, to say the least: everyone has told me that it's going to hurt, which I'm not sure I appreciate (your breakdown was the kindest, Daf, and I thank you, even if you went easy on me), but Melly and Bunny are coming over that afternoon with their Christmas presents to me, and I just get to hope I don't feel too much like carp when they come. It shouldn't be too bad so long as I don't get open-root or something, which I understand is what we go to such lengths to avoid.
So I guess I should be eating all the crunchy foods I can for the next few days, on the theory that I'm about to subside into soup, milkshakes, and Cream of Wheat. I plan to watch a heck of a lot of M*A*S*H, not to mention my two Cyrano de Bergerac movies for AP English (well, one is Roxanne, so that should be fun)...and I should probably read some Great Expectations and do some AP psych, but we'll see whether that happens 'til about the 31st. I'm guessing not.
Hopefully we can get another play-cast party going this break, but clearing all our schedules on short notice really isn't something we're good at, so I'm gonna file that one under not-ruddy-likely as well.
Recently joined the newspaper club, which means that I get to screw round on Friday afternoons with a bunch of fellow English nerds and argue with Jayj on a regular basis. ...Both sound like fun to me. *g*
...You would think that if any group of students could salvage our incredibly-mediocre school newsletter, we could, but we'll see. We can all write, but we're not incredibly motivated.
I should do a big thing on one of the extracurricular clubs--maybe the robotics team or something. Hm. ...Will resist the temptation to spotlight one of my own clubs; that's tacky.
Am definitely doing some more Quenya stuff--the upstairs computer, which had all the files on it, burnt out long ago, but I managed to salvage all my writing files and most of the Quenya--by sheer grace of God, I'm thinking (it hadn't turned on in a week, it turned on once more for me, I got the files on disks, it never turned back on again--could be a coincidence, but it could be all the please-don't-let-me-lose-four-years-of-work). Will look those over tonight, as I definitely am getting impatient, and wish to proceed to sentences, rather than kindergarten-style phrases: "a king and a queen", "one horse and two ships", etc.
Hm, think I've rambled on quite long enough. Will update my side-columns, then get some Quenya going.
-Laurel
12.16.2002
It was the best of days...it was the worst of days.
Well, not quite that fire-and-ice, but my day's been interesting. My bus rides were nice--now that there're a decent number of batteries in the house, I felt justified in stealing a couple for my Discman, and spent parts of today listening to Newsboys, which was very nice.
Stats was icky--had a nasty test, got back some sub-standard homework. Seriously, to get an A in that class, with the test grades I get, I need the vast majority of my homeworks to be full credit, and I'd lost something like eight points between the ones I got back (out of about forty total--could be better, could be worse).
Oh, well. I've got five weeks to get my grade up. Choir was quartet exam, which went well enough. I don't know why I was so much quieter than usual--I was trying--but at least my voice was clear enough, and my notes (as far as I know) correct enough, and Megan and Katelyn said they could hear me from where they were, partly across the room, so maybe I sang louder than I expected. I mean, I'm with three (or at least two) loud people, so...
In study hall, lunch, and a little bit of Spanish (in my own defense, I'd finished all the Spanish classwork), I did King Lear questions--got them done well enough, I suppose--and handed them in fourth block during English.
Leo Club was great fun. We screwed round, as usual, got some food, signed up for some activities, etc. Will get the sponsor-kid checks soon and actually send them out on time this month (how's that for a major change?). Taught Jay Jei how to use the club blog. He stuck round with Daf and me (apparently we're "good conversation"...*g*), gave me a copy of this leet (|ee7?) tutorial that he made with this friend of his and plans to spread, via e-mail, all over America by next year (yeah, good luck, Jayj...::laughs::), told me to read and know it--so apparently I, half against my will, am finally succumbing to leet-ness. ...Felt rather proud of myself when I managed to decipher every last word of the "sample conversation" they'd stuck at the end as a test-yourself kind of thing...no, no! Must not succumb to the grammatical dark side!
...But this's leet--it's different...right?
Slogged through a page and a half of psych, a chapter of Wuthering Heights, fell asleep for a while (of course!), then came down here...
...and got slapped with three pieces of bad news in, like, fifteen minutes. Two of Lily's friends got robbed at gunpoint at school(!), a friend of mine's dad is really sick and getting worse, and (on a lesser note) Five Iron Frenzy is breaking up (they're the ones who sing the brilliant songs "Oh, Canada", "A Flowery Song", and "Where the Zero Meets Fifteen", among others).
...Sheesh, FIF breaking up. Bryan must be devastated. Certainly Tim and Josh will be. Anyway...
...yeah, definitely interesting around here. A-a-a-a-a-and, once again, somebody's Ocean Bowl studying didn't get done. Lalalalalala.
Wuthering Heights due on Friday, and I'm still on the first page of questions and only halfway through the book. Praying for a snow day, hoping against hope...it is falling pretty thickly out there...
Must leave now. Cheerio.
-Laurel
Well, not quite that fire-and-ice, but my day's been interesting. My bus rides were nice--now that there're a decent number of batteries in the house, I felt justified in stealing a couple for my Discman, and spent parts of today listening to Newsboys, which was very nice.
Stats was icky--had a nasty test, got back some sub-standard homework. Seriously, to get an A in that class, with the test grades I get, I need the vast majority of my homeworks to be full credit, and I'd lost something like eight points between the ones I got back (out of about forty total--could be better, could be worse).
Oh, well. I've got five weeks to get my grade up. Choir was quartet exam, which went well enough. I don't know why I was so much quieter than usual--I was trying--but at least my voice was clear enough, and my notes (as far as I know) correct enough, and Megan and Katelyn said they could hear me from where they were, partly across the room, so maybe I sang louder than I expected. I mean, I'm with three (or at least two) loud people, so...
In study hall, lunch, and a little bit of Spanish (in my own defense, I'd finished all the Spanish classwork), I did King Lear questions--got them done well enough, I suppose--and handed them in fourth block during English.
Leo Club was great fun. We screwed round, as usual, got some food, signed up for some activities, etc. Will get the sponsor-kid checks soon and actually send them out on time this month (how's that for a major change?). Taught Jay Jei how to use the club blog. He stuck round with Daf and me (apparently we're "good conversation"...*g*), gave me a copy of this leet (|ee7?) tutorial that he made with this friend of his and plans to spread, via e-mail, all over America by next year (yeah, good luck, Jayj...::laughs::), told me to read and know it--so apparently I, half against my will, am finally succumbing to leet-ness. ...Felt rather proud of myself when I managed to decipher every last word of the "sample conversation" they'd stuck at the end as a test-yourself kind of thing...no, no! Must not succumb to the grammatical dark side!
...But this's leet--it's different...right?
Slogged through a page and a half of psych, a chapter of Wuthering Heights, fell asleep for a while (of course!), then came down here...
...and got slapped with three pieces of bad news in, like, fifteen minutes. Two of Lily's friends got robbed at gunpoint at school(!), a friend of mine's dad is really sick and getting worse, and (on a lesser note) Five Iron Frenzy is breaking up (they're the ones who sing the brilliant songs "Oh, Canada", "A Flowery Song", and "Where the Zero Meets Fifteen", among others).
...Sheesh, FIF breaking up. Bryan must be devastated. Certainly Tim and Josh will be. Anyway...
...yeah, definitely interesting around here. A-a-a-a-a-and, once again, somebody's Ocean Bowl studying didn't get done. Lalalalalala.
Wuthering Heights due on Friday, and I'm still on the first page of questions and only halfway through the book. Praying for a snow day, hoping against hope...it is falling pretty thickly out there...
Must leave now. Cheerio.
-Laurel
12.13.2002
Had a nice little day--sold kazoos for Leo Club. Well, for a camp around here that helps children with cancer, not exactly for Leo Club. But it was nice. Hung round with Bethie, Melly, and Bunny, among others, and got roundly scolded by Bethie for not telling her before about my writing "Heckling the Waves", the song from the choral/band picnic. They tried to get me to sing it, but I was not about to do so in the middle of the mall, in the middle of a fundraiser.
Lalala. Got all my college part ones out, must still submit part two for each of them. Wonder when I'll find time to do that.
Tomorrow I go down to my Aunt Joanne's for Christmas on my mom's side of the family (we always have it a week or two early with them)--will definitely be doing some King Lear all day for English. Have decided that this AP English mega-crunch time is Mrs. W getting even with us for all our "unteachable moments", as she calls them (look, when 34 kids get crammed into one 25-person classroom, it gets loud, but it's not entirely our fault).
Am dismayed because the past two times I've run long distances, I've ended up really short of breath for about half an hour after. There're a few possibilities here. It could be that I've got a slight chest cold, 'cause these two times were within two days of each other, and I have been having some throat-crud working in the chest area. ...That's what I'm hoping, 'cause that would mean it'll go away on its own. It could be that I'm sort of out of shape, which, considering how I've been eating, isn't so far off. ...That wouldn't be so bad, 'cause it's (relatively) easily fixable. Or it could be that I'm developing asthma, which is what my hypochondriac brain has been screaming at me (when it isn't worrying about how my heart rate just randomly jumps to, like, 1000 bpm--all right, exaggeration--when we play certain things in gym and just stays there long after I've stopped moving altogether). ...I don't think that's it, but we'll see.
...My brother is playing "Props" with two cardboard tubes left over from wrapping paper rolls. I am being "stabbed" as I type.
Will go now.
-Laurel
Lalala. Got all my college part ones out, must still submit part two for each of them. Wonder when I'll find time to do that.
Tomorrow I go down to my Aunt Joanne's for Christmas on my mom's side of the family (we always have it a week or two early with them)--will definitely be doing some King Lear all day for English. Have decided that this AP English mega-crunch time is Mrs. W getting even with us for all our "unteachable moments", as she calls them (look, when 34 kids get crammed into one 25-person classroom, it gets loud, but it's not entirely our fault).
Am dismayed because the past two times I've run long distances, I've ended up really short of breath for about half an hour after. There're a few possibilities here. It could be that I've got a slight chest cold, 'cause these two times were within two days of each other, and I have been having some throat-crud working in the chest area. ...That's what I'm hoping, 'cause that would mean it'll go away on its own. It could be that I'm sort of out of shape, which, considering how I've been eating, isn't so far off. ...That wouldn't be so bad, 'cause it's (relatively) easily fixable. Or it could be that I'm developing asthma, which is what my hypochondriac brain has been screaming at me (when it isn't worrying about how my heart rate just randomly jumps to, like, 1000 bpm--all right, exaggeration--when we play certain things in gym and just stays there long after I've stopped moving altogether). ...I don't think that's it, but we'll see.
...My brother is playing "Props" with two cardboard tubes left over from wrapping paper rolls. I am being "stabbed" as I type.
Will go now.
-Laurel
12.09.2002
Right, should be going over stuff for SFE, but there's something a little bigger going on here at the moment.
...In psych we just did this big death-and-dying project. We went over Kubler-Ross stages of terminal illness and death, then learned about making wishes known, planning one's own funeral, etc. We wrote our own obituaries, compared them with ones in the newspapers, and had to be eulogized by a friend or family member. (Ananda wrote mine, and it was so sweet and kind and wonderful--seriously, 'Nanda, you said you couldn't write it right, but I wouldn't have it any other way--you wrote it like you write everything to me: conversationally, familiarly, honestly. That's how Bono writes, that's how C.S. Lewis writes--and that's how you write best. That's not something to change, seriously.)
And the project was a little on the creepy side, but it made me realize--for the dozenth time since the cast party--how much everyone in my life means to me, and they mean so much...
Ananda, with her U2 and perpetual mp3-playing/downloading and college-life news; and a familiar, oddly-comforting string of questions, rebellions, and complaints...as honest, articulate, and protective as ever...we've rubbed off so much on each other, 'Nanda, and broadened each others' tastes--but there's more to it than that, stuff I can't explain just yet, and that I'm not sure I want to have so exact as an understanding about, but more of a sense...
Daf, with gerbil-ness, Adam-ness, and the tangle of half-finished stories (so like my own files!) that's been growing and changing since I met her, even back to fifth grade, with silliness and an easy-coming giggle; so much more peaceful, so much less a melodramatic spaz than I am...you only nod when we tell you things, but we find out later just how well you understood. You know how Ananda says I changed her writing? Well, you changed mine. That story I wrote in creative writing that Ms. Mohring said didn't even sound like me? That was me trying partly to write like you. It may not have sounded like you in the end, but it was partially you all the same. ...And there's so many other things about you we've always valued--I've always valued--but I guess they're easier known than described.
Zinni, who doesn't listen to the same music, nor write in the same way, but whose music and writing we wouldn't have any other way, either. You gave us so much more than a place to congregate--you listened, offered help, and so often knew just what would make us happy. You made the simplest things the best things--a tree to climb, a joke marathon on a long bus ride home, a swingset, a few pieces of chalk--and are still doing that. And the myriad TV shows we had in common? They're just different ones now--Golden Girls and Touched By an Angel to M*A*S*H and back again. You and Daf as twins, Zinnia and Laurel as twins.
Bethie, friend through so much, keeper of so many jokes that only we understand, co-hassler of Mr. K, the surest to understand when parents are difficult, sharer of humor-style--not to mention one very elaborate dream--and confidant of so many secret fears, even to the biggest, scariest questions I've ever had. What would my years have been without you? ...When we reminisced about sixth-grade in Wendy's, here's one we didn't mention: the sleepover, with the glass bubble and the mosaic, there in the dark--"Bethie?" "What?" "...Thanks." "What for?" "...I'm not alone anymore." "...Neither am I."
Lily, favorite cousin, now and always. From our first-grade newspapers and our plays where I was the chick and you were the deer, to how we always, without ever consulting each other, wanted to be the same things when we grew up--we copied each other consciously and subconsciously, and even when we weren't eerily similar anymore, there was always more to it than watching Whose Line and making ramen. We do ordinary things, but we're still always so excited to see each other again.
Megan, friend despite usual lack of classes together--bound together in sixth grade by science class and Sherlock Holmes. ...You were my faith model for longer than you know--I could ask anything, say anything, and you'd have the answer. When you spaz, it's even bigger than mine; you talk even faster than me--but you know, far better than me, how to put everything out there. And the farther I look back, the more I realize that you always have.
Aneya, whom I've had so much more in common with, since the day I met you, than just Velcro shoes...*g* We talked about everything, did so much together--I've laughed so much with you, and have talked more utter nonsense, as our mothers know well! ...We could have a normal conversation, but where would the fun be in that? Two writers together, the both of us, and the writing's changed, but it's still us.
Melly, friend from eighth grade on...begun in English class and lunch, progressing to common TV shows and improv in study hall--your happiness and humor, your own style...no one else could do it quite like that. This one's short, but there's the same meaning in it. ...When Zinni left and I didn't have classes with Ananda, and only one with Daf, you were the one to keep me company. That meant a lot.
Bunny, heckler of the waves...but more than the humor, so open, so accepting, and so affectionate. One of the best things about the play--getting to know you better. And so behind-the-scenes: you coach your siblings and watch them succeed, but your success in another way, just as big as theirs--and maybe bigger--you don't even mention. I knew you for four years before I ever knew it--you never breathed a word, and it's an incredible secret to just decide to keep. ...I wish I could succeed and not have to spread it around. ...And you say what you mean, full emotion intact, and let it happen, without so much as a qualifier. To someone as over-sensible as I can be, this isn't something I'm consistent with, either. ...If you envy my intelligence, as you say you do, I envy those things.
Jordan, quiet and shy, fascinating and sweet...saw you first at pole last year, then in health class, though I thought at first you were Josh J.'s little brother. I wanted even then to get to know you better, and I haven't been disappointed. A few words, a few gestures, a few food-bits shared and walks taken down the hall...it seems like so little sometimes, I know, but it's meant so much to me.
And Jay Jei, self-proclaimed nerd, English-major boy...both endearing and obnoxious, sweet and annoying--like a couple of boys I knew last year, as dismayed as we both are at the comparisons. Have you any idea how much you've taught me, Jayj, how much it's meant to me to have you for a friend, even for just a couple of months? What seems to continually surprise you is how our senses of humor are so nearly identical--what's continually surprised me is what you are, as opposed to what I expected you to be. I can't describe it better than that. ...Didn't you tell Bunny once that half the reason you came to practice was to talk to me? I think I must have heard it wrong from her, or from you, whatever was said. But in any case, I'm pointing back. ...Practice was good, but my favorite part came before it--talking to you.
My family I won't do here, but my friends...I couldn't have asked for better ones, nor picked them. Thinking about death has made me see how blessed I am to be living here with you.
-Laurel
...In psych we just did this big death-and-dying project. We went over Kubler-Ross stages of terminal illness and death, then learned about making wishes known, planning one's own funeral, etc. We wrote our own obituaries, compared them with ones in the newspapers, and had to be eulogized by a friend or family member. (Ananda wrote mine, and it was so sweet and kind and wonderful--seriously, 'Nanda, you said you couldn't write it right, but I wouldn't have it any other way--you wrote it like you write everything to me: conversationally, familiarly, honestly. That's how Bono writes, that's how C.S. Lewis writes--and that's how you write best. That's not something to change, seriously.)
And the project was a little on the creepy side, but it made me realize--for the dozenth time since the cast party--how much everyone in my life means to me, and they mean so much...
Ananda, with her U2 and perpetual mp3-playing/downloading and college-life news; and a familiar, oddly-comforting string of questions, rebellions, and complaints...as honest, articulate, and protective as ever...we've rubbed off so much on each other, 'Nanda, and broadened each others' tastes--but there's more to it than that, stuff I can't explain just yet, and that I'm not sure I want to have so exact as an understanding about, but more of a sense...
Daf, with gerbil-ness, Adam-ness, and the tangle of half-finished stories (so like my own files!) that's been growing and changing since I met her, even back to fifth grade, with silliness and an easy-coming giggle; so much more peaceful, so much less a melodramatic spaz than I am...you only nod when we tell you things, but we find out later just how well you understood. You know how Ananda says I changed her writing? Well, you changed mine. That story I wrote in creative writing that Ms. Mohring said didn't even sound like me? That was me trying partly to write like you. It may not have sounded like you in the end, but it was partially you all the same. ...And there's so many other things about you we've always valued--I've always valued--but I guess they're easier known than described.
Zinni, who doesn't listen to the same music, nor write in the same way, but whose music and writing we wouldn't have any other way, either. You gave us so much more than a place to congregate--you listened, offered help, and so often knew just what would make us happy. You made the simplest things the best things--a tree to climb, a joke marathon on a long bus ride home, a swingset, a few pieces of chalk--and are still doing that. And the myriad TV shows we had in common? They're just different ones now--Golden Girls and Touched By an Angel to M*A*S*H and back again. You and Daf as twins, Zinnia and Laurel as twins.
Bethie, friend through so much, keeper of so many jokes that only we understand, co-hassler of Mr. K, the surest to understand when parents are difficult, sharer of humor-style--not to mention one very elaborate dream--and confidant of so many secret fears, even to the biggest, scariest questions I've ever had. What would my years have been without you? ...When we reminisced about sixth-grade in Wendy's, here's one we didn't mention: the sleepover, with the glass bubble and the mosaic, there in the dark--"Bethie?" "What?" "...Thanks." "What for?" "...I'm not alone anymore." "...Neither am I."
Lily, favorite cousin, now and always. From our first-grade newspapers and our plays where I was the chick and you were the deer, to how we always, without ever consulting each other, wanted to be the same things when we grew up--we copied each other consciously and subconsciously, and even when we weren't eerily similar anymore, there was always more to it than watching Whose Line and making ramen. We do ordinary things, but we're still always so excited to see each other again.
Megan, friend despite usual lack of classes together--bound together in sixth grade by science class and Sherlock Holmes. ...You were my faith model for longer than you know--I could ask anything, say anything, and you'd have the answer. When you spaz, it's even bigger than mine; you talk even faster than me--but you know, far better than me, how to put everything out there. And the farther I look back, the more I realize that you always have.
Aneya, whom I've had so much more in common with, since the day I met you, than just Velcro shoes...*g* We talked about everything, did so much together--I've laughed so much with you, and have talked more utter nonsense, as our mothers know well! ...We could have a normal conversation, but where would the fun be in that? Two writers together, the both of us, and the writing's changed, but it's still us.
Melly, friend from eighth grade on...begun in English class and lunch, progressing to common TV shows and improv in study hall--your happiness and humor, your own style...no one else could do it quite like that. This one's short, but there's the same meaning in it. ...When Zinni left and I didn't have classes with Ananda, and only one with Daf, you were the one to keep me company. That meant a lot.
Bunny, heckler of the waves...but more than the humor, so open, so accepting, and so affectionate. One of the best things about the play--getting to know you better. And so behind-the-scenes: you coach your siblings and watch them succeed, but your success in another way, just as big as theirs--and maybe bigger--you don't even mention. I knew you for four years before I ever knew it--you never breathed a word, and it's an incredible secret to just decide to keep. ...I wish I could succeed and not have to spread it around. ...And you say what you mean, full emotion intact, and let it happen, without so much as a qualifier. To someone as over-sensible as I can be, this isn't something I'm consistent with, either. ...If you envy my intelligence, as you say you do, I envy those things.
Jordan, quiet and shy, fascinating and sweet...saw you first at pole last year, then in health class, though I thought at first you were Josh J.'s little brother. I wanted even then to get to know you better, and I haven't been disappointed. A few words, a few gestures, a few food-bits shared and walks taken down the hall...it seems like so little sometimes, I know, but it's meant so much to me.
And Jay Jei, self-proclaimed nerd, English-major boy...both endearing and obnoxious, sweet and annoying--like a couple of boys I knew last year, as dismayed as we both are at the comparisons. Have you any idea how much you've taught me, Jayj, how much it's meant to me to have you for a friend, even for just a couple of months? What seems to continually surprise you is how our senses of humor are so nearly identical--what's continually surprised me is what you are, as opposed to what I expected you to be. I can't describe it better than that. ...Didn't you tell Bunny once that half the reason you came to practice was to talk to me? I think I must have heard it wrong from her, or from you, whatever was said. But in any case, I'm pointing back. ...Practice was good, but my favorite part came before it--talking to you.
My family I won't do here, but my friends...I couldn't have asked for better ones, nor picked them. Thinking about death has made me see how blessed I am to be living here with you.
-Laurel
12.07.2002
And, for my second entry of the night...
...I've been all over Daf's song blog, Lyrical Heaven, basically going through the entire blog to date tonight (I've been sadly remiss in my song-reviewing duties to this point), and it's got me in such a music-loving, lyric-sharing mood that I'm putting up one of my own, here, tonight. ...Don't worry, Daf, I'm not copping you off--too much. I won't be doing this every day, or even every week. But I want to do it now.
...You've seen these before, 'Nanda and Zinni, but you can see them again...
"Disappear", Jars of Clay
(The Eleventh Hour, 2002)
I watch you smile
You steal the show
You take a bow, the curtain falls in front of you
You're magical, on display
I gaze into your eyes and
You turn to look the other way
[Chorus:]
But I'd really love to know
I'd really love to climb
Way into your heart
And see what I could find
I'd walk into your skin
Swim through your veins
See it from your eyes
'Cause I'd really love to try...yeah
Standing still, but in my mind
Trying to escape
Looking for a place to hide
Well, it's not safe, but I'm so near
Invading every place you go
To disappear
[Chorus]
I'd really love to try
I'd really love to know
I really want to climb
Into your soul
Walk into your skin
Swim through your veins
See it from your eyes
I'd really love to try
I'd really love to try
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Try
[Chorus 2x]
Yeah, I wanna get inside the you
You're hiding from (yea-a-a-ah)
Yeah, I wanna get inside the you
You're hiding from (yea-a-a-ah)
I wanna get inside the you
That you are hiding from (yea-a-a-ah, yea-a-a-ah)
*
Of all the JoC songs I've loved over the years, this may be my biggest favorite of all. It's taken on so many meanings since I heard it around May...love (if you want to take it that way, this is, like, the best crush song ever...), friendship, soulmate-ness...I've always wondered what it'd be like to be another person--and some people I've just wanted to much to understand, to be for a while...the first verse is my favorite--the short half-scream of guitar to open, then to the music, which creates this atmosphere--well, it's happy, but it's not perfectly happy, you know? You can feel like there's some kind of internal thing going on...it took me forever to really notice the piano part in the background, but now that's what my ear goes to automatically...and the words...the first verse is just wonderful, it fits the music perfectly, and it's one I connect to so well...
I watch you smile, you steal the show...
...Is there any physical feature I value more than a great smile? That's always been it. Eyes are fine, but when someone's got a melt-worthy grin, one that I can't watch without smiling myself...that's what completes a cute guy and saves an otherwise-plain one.
*Thinks, suddenly, of Billy Boyd...and catches self smiling at thought of his smile* ::giggles::
...Mm, love the lovely song. ...But must work on psych now. Cheerio.
-Laurel
...I've been all over Daf's song blog, Lyrical Heaven, basically going through the entire blog to date tonight (I've been sadly remiss in my song-reviewing duties to this point), and it's got me in such a music-loving, lyric-sharing mood that I'm putting up one of my own, here, tonight. ...Don't worry, Daf, I'm not copping you off--too much. I won't be doing this every day, or even every week. But I want to do it now.
...You've seen these before, 'Nanda and Zinni, but you can see them again...
"Disappear", Jars of Clay
(The Eleventh Hour, 2002)
I watch you smile
You steal the show
You take a bow, the curtain falls in front of you
You're magical, on display
I gaze into your eyes and
You turn to look the other way
[Chorus:]
But I'd really love to know
I'd really love to climb
Way into your heart
And see what I could find
I'd walk into your skin
Swim through your veins
See it from your eyes
'Cause I'd really love to try...yeah
Standing still, but in my mind
Trying to escape
Looking for a place to hide
Well, it's not safe, but I'm so near
Invading every place you go
To disappear
[Chorus]
I'd really love to try
I'd really love to know
I really want to climb
Into your soul
Walk into your skin
Swim through your veins
See it from your eyes
I'd really love to try
I'd really love to try
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Try
[Chorus 2x]
Yeah, I wanna get inside the you
You're hiding from (yea-a-a-ah)
Yeah, I wanna get inside the you
You're hiding from (yea-a-a-ah)
I wanna get inside the you
That you are hiding from (yea-a-a-ah, yea-a-a-ah)
*
Of all the JoC songs I've loved over the years, this may be my biggest favorite of all. It's taken on so many meanings since I heard it around May...love (if you want to take it that way, this is, like, the best crush song ever...), friendship, soulmate-ness...I've always wondered what it'd be like to be another person--and some people I've just wanted to much to understand, to be for a while...the first verse is my favorite--the short half-scream of guitar to open, then to the music, which creates this atmosphere--well, it's happy, but it's not perfectly happy, you know? You can feel like there's some kind of internal thing going on...it took me forever to really notice the piano part in the background, but now that's what my ear goes to automatically...and the words...the first verse is just wonderful, it fits the music perfectly, and it's one I connect to so well...
I watch you smile, you steal the show...
...Is there any physical feature I value more than a great smile? That's always been it. Eyes are fine, but when someone's got a melt-worthy grin, one that I can't watch without smiling myself...that's what completes a cute guy and saves an otherwise-plain one.
*Thinks, suddenly, of Billy Boyd...and catches self smiling at thought of his smile* ::giggles::
...Mm, love the lovely song. ...But must work on psych now. Cheerio.
-Laurel
Hurrah, the Christmas season! December is, as far as I'm concerned, about the only good month of winter. The way I see it, snow should start falling on the day after Thanksgiving, it should stay in blanket form over the ground until the last day of January, and then it should melt away, not to be seen again until the next fourth-Friday-in-November. ...As it is, we get winter, which around here takes a while to come, but stays until halfway through April once it does.
All right, so it does make spring all the nicer--seeing grass again, no matter how pale and frozen, and it being light out again when I get on the bus in the morning. Spring is my favorite season. Summer is nice, but oven-like rooms, sunburns, and mosquito bites are things that have to be dealt with; by spring, having to wear light jackets is freedom after four months of parkas, gloves, and hats; it's still warm enough for both ice cream on sunny days, but cold enough for hot chocolate on rainy days; and the way the air smells, all light and clean and sweet...oh, gosh, it makes me fly. And wind--wind that doesn't cut you in the face, but shoots through your hair--wind you can stand into and throw your arms back and just staythere. Summer wind is for the night, to walk along a beach and think about life, love, and friendship, and it should be softer, warmer, smoother than spring wind; spring wind begs a hilltop to stand on and throw your arms out, and to not think anything so much as feel it--especially freedom--and the harder the blast, the better.
Mm. ...But as I was saying, the Christmas season's here, and that at least is happy. We've got snow (which around here is actually a rarity for Christmas!), and I get to pull rings off my Christmas chain, and I started getting people's Christmas presents (which I think is my favorite part), which means I got to poke around in the college bookstore when we were there to watch my cousin wrestle, looking at books and craft supplies and kitschy $5 mini-versions of cool things usually only found in large, $18-ish versions. Check Bethie and Aneya off my list, but that leaves my family, 'Nanda, Daf, Zinni, Melly, Bunny, and maybe Jinni still...definitely breaking into my summer-job money, 'cause it was all I could do to scrape $4 together the other day, and the presents I still need are gonna run me at least $50, I'm thinking, and maybe even more.
The play for Spanish was great fun--the inside jokes and funny things from the day took up a whole page in my quotebook, and I think I'm still missing some...
...hm, I wish the computer upstairs hadn't fried. I lost my clips from Danger Mouse and Spaceballs and everything, and I think I might have lost "Lifeforms", too, dang it...will have to put them here and transfer them by disk when we get a new one...we have no Microsoft Word down here still, more's the great pity: I hate the program, but need it for school--double-spacing on Wordpad is the biggest pain, 'cause my printer lines up differently than the screen...
I think I'll figure out at some point whether there's a new Coville book out with Rod Allbright. Having reread Left My Sneakers and Search for Snout last week in a bout of nostalgia, it made me wonder if anything comes after Stole My Body, which I read at Daf's...can that have been ninth grade? It must be, 'cause I used it for reading credit that year...goodness. Well, in three years (or more, considering I only read it then), he must have had time enough for the next one, right?
(Related note to J.K. Rowling, wherever you are: Finish Order of the Phoenix. It was supposed to be out six months ago.)
Lalala, two weeks and a day to my seeing Two Towers, hurrah...
Merry Christmas-season. Hang your stockings by the chimney with care. *g*
-Laurel
All right, so it does make spring all the nicer--seeing grass again, no matter how pale and frozen, and it being light out again when I get on the bus in the morning. Spring is my favorite season. Summer is nice, but oven-like rooms, sunburns, and mosquito bites are things that have to be dealt with; by spring, having to wear light jackets is freedom after four months of parkas, gloves, and hats; it's still warm enough for both ice cream on sunny days, but cold enough for hot chocolate on rainy days; and the way the air smells, all light and clean and sweet...oh, gosh, it makes me fly. And wind--wind that doesn't cut you in the face, but shoots through your hair--wind you can stand into and throw your arms back and just staythere. Summer wind is for the night, to walk along a beach and think about life, love, and friendship, and it should be softer, warmer, smoother than spring wind; spring wind begs a hilltop to stand on and throw your arms out, and to not think anything so much as feel it--especially freedom--and the harder the blast, the better.
Mm. ...But as I was saying, the Christmas season's here, and that at least is happy. We've got snow (which around here is actually a rarity for Christmas!), and I get to pull rings off my Christmas chain, and I started getting people's Christmas presents (which I think is my favorite part), which means I got to poke around in the college bookstore when we were there to watch my cousin wrestle, looking at books and craft supplies and kitschy $5 mini-versions of cool things usually only found in large, $18-ish versions. Check Bethie and Aneya off my list, but that leaves my family, 'Nanda, Daf, Zinni, Melly, Bunny, and maybe Jinni still...definitely breaking into my summer-job money, 'cause it was all I could do to scrape $4 together the other day, and the presents I still need are gonna run me at least $50, I'm thinking, and maybe even more.
The play for Spanish was great fun--the inside jokes and funny things from the day took up a whole page in my quotebook, and I think I'm still missing some...
...hm, I wish the computer upstairs hadn't fried. I lost my clips from Danger Mouse and Spaceballs and everything, and I think I might have lost "Lifeforms", too, dang it...will have to put them here and transfer them by disk when we get a new one...we have no Microsoft Word down here still, more's the great pity: I hate the program, but need it for school--double-spacing on Wordpad is the biggest pain, 'cause my printer lines up differently than the screen...
I think I'll figure out at some point whether there's a new Coville book out with Rod Allbright. Having reread Left My Sneakers and Search for Snout last week in a bout of nostalgia, it made me wonder if anything comes after Stole My Body, which I read at Daf's...can that have been ninth grade? It must be, 'cause I used it for reading credit that year...goodness. Well, in three years (or more, considering I only read it then), he must have had time enough for the next one, right?
(Related note to J.K. Rowling, wherever you are: Finish Order of the Phoenix. It was supposed to be out six months ago.)
Lalala, two weeks and a day to my seeing Two Towers, hurrah...
Merry Christmas-season. Hang your stockings by the chimney with care. *g*
-Laurel
12.04.2002
Oh, ruddy heck. I just lost the entire posting I was going to put up. Oh, well. The short (sort of) version:
Greetings from the after-school computer lab--the "informational meeting" for the Big Brothers/Sisters Christmas party--which I'm probably not even going to qualify for, because they only take the first few applications, and I (unlike my friends from psych) cannot get to school at six o'clock, but can only get there by seven, when the application "opens"--only took about two minutes, just long enough for me to miss the bus. Which is not a good thing, considering how much ruddy homework I have for psych and stats.
The Spanish field trip tomorrow is a good thing and a bad thing--we're going to miss second, third, and a little of fourth block to go downtown and see The Barber of Seville. It's good because I get to miss girls' chorus--Mrs. R blasted us yesterday like you wouldn't believe for a sub-par rendition of "Gloria", and since tomorrow night is the actual concert, that means the unlucky wretches (figurative wretches, of course, Daf--I'm not calling you one!) who get stuck there will probably spend the whole 40 minutes being drilled to death on it. Since I know the song just fine already (unlike the general chorus kids!), I'm very glad to miss this. Also, I get a day with Bethie, Melly, and Aneya, which is always a good time, especially lunch (it's nice to get a break from cafeteria food, even if said break comes courtesy of McDonald's, instead of happier Wendy's food).
The bad news is that, for the second time in a row, I'm missing my day-2-block-3C study hall, which is now the only chance outside of Leo Club that I ever get to talk to Jordan, now that the play's actually over (drat our not being in the same stats class, and me not having picked Performing Arts I/II instead of Piano/Keyboard as a class to attempt to take, 'cause I would have ended up in his class, and in third-block psych with Bunny). And I don't have one again until Wednesday...oh, no, what day's Wednesday? Is that the tenth? No, okay, it's the eleventh. The tenth--which I miss for a choir field trip--is a Day 1, and those are boring anyway. Good.
Speaking of play-people, Feisal came up behind me the first time I was typing this, reached over my head, and started pressing keys. He and Chris are here at the computers in front of me, looking something up.
...I should get offline soon and start my psych, but we'll see if that really happens.
Cheerio for now.
-Laurel
Greetings from the after-school computer lab--the "informational meeting" for the Big Brothers/Sisters Christmas party--which I'm probably not even going to qualify for, because they only take the first few applications, and I (unlike my friends from psych) cannot get to school at six o'clock, but can only get there by seven, when the application "opens"--only took about two minutes, just long enough for me to miss the bus. Which is not a good thing, considering how much ruddy homework I have for psych and stats.
The Spanish field trip tomorrow is a good thing and a bad thing--we're going to miss second, third, and a little of fourth block to go downtown and see The Barber of Seville. It's good because I get to miss girls' chorus--Mrs. R blasted us yesterday like you wouldn't believe for a sub-par rendition of "Gloria", and since tomorrow night is the actual concert, that means the unlucky wretches (figurative wretches, of course, Daf--I'm not calling you one!) who get stuck there will probably spend the whole 40 minutes being drilled to death on it. Since I know the song just fine already (unlike the general chorus kids!), I'm very glad to miss this. Also, I get a day with Bethie, Melly, and Aneya, which is always a good time, especially lunch (it's nice to get a break from cafeteria food, even if said break comes courtesy of McDonald's, instead of happier Wendy's food).
The bad news is that, for the second time in a row, I'm missing my day-2-block-3C study hall, which is now the only chance outside of Leo Club that I ever get to talk to Jordan, now that the play's actually over (drat our not being in the same stats class, and me not having picked Performing Arts I/II instead of Piano/Keyboard as a class to attempt to take, 'cause I would have ended up in his class, and in third-block psych with Bunny). And I don't have one again until Wednesday...oh, no, what day's Wednesday? Is that the tenth? No, okay, it's the eleventh. The tenth--which I miss for a choir field trip--is a Day 1, and those are boring anyway. Good.
Speaking of play-people, Feisal came up behind me the first time I was typing this, reached over my head, and started pressing keys. He and Chris are here at the computers in front of me, looking something up.
...I should get offline soon and start my psych, but we'll see if that really happens.
Cheerio for now.
-Laurel
11.27.2002
...Yeah, and it turns out that part of my profile has been invisible since I changed this template--the part where I define Pippin and "ruddy" and SdlA, etc. for anyone who doesn't know them? Yeah, it's been in the same black font as it was on the last template--which means that on this one, it's blended right in. ...So that's why there was so much space between my "people to know" section and the archives! ::grins, then smacks self lightly in head::
-Laurel
-Laurel
Have spent the past thirty-six hours practically walking on air. ...Had the cast party for the play last night at my house, and not everybody managed to make it (Tim was sick, Rachel couldn't get of work, Chris was probably out with his girlfriend, and Ben M. and Josh just randomly didn't show), but most did, and it went...spectacularly. I just can't describe it. Think one-step-down-from-perfect and you'll be on the right track, though I can't think of anything that would have made it any better. I feel such love for this cast. ...We're going to do it again in December. Feisal's never made a snow-person, and we intend to show him how. (I say snow-person because he doesn't want to make a snowman, but what he calls a "snow-lady".)
Actually, we played out in the snow a little last night, Brandon and Feisal and my brother and Jay Jei and me. ...Jordan and Bunny came out, too, but they didn't get into it, which is just as well, because the five of us who did came back inside all snow-encrusted and left melty bits all over our entryway, but my parents (who couldn't remember the last time they'd seen me at such a high level of excitement/animation/happiness) just shrugged it off. ...I didn't want it to end, but it didn't: I relived it in my e-mail report of the party to Zinni and 'Nanda, and even managed to see everybody in my dreams.
...And then I woke up this morning, and it was still wonderful. My brother's unexpected sweetness and helpfulness from last night hadn't vanished--he woke me up around 9:15 with the news that he'd made me breakfast--which turned out to be an assortment of Eggo Minis with different toppings and an orange slushie made by pouring a can of Slice into a cup filled with snow ("Don't worry, I won't tell Mom you're having soda for breakfast," he informed me...*g*). I thanked him for his help with the party, and he kind of looked at the floor. "Well, you're not going to be here much longer...I just wanted to..."
So I spent the day cleaning under my bed (which I took my time over, but which was much easier than I'd expected) and reading and grinning like a madman over all the friends I have--and have had, but today I felt especially happy about it--and what a wonderful family, home, life, homelife, etc. It's just this...warmth, this tightness like I want to shriek out and jump up and down, all day it's been going on, and I just kept savoring it, 'cause I never dreamed this year would ever be like this, and that even if it was, I'd have nine more months to spend in it before college.
...And I can't really explain it, except in what appears to the naked eye like blatant saccharinity, but really, it's every happiness-running-over cliche ever. It makes Thanksgiving so...I don't know...redundant! *g*
Am going to go now, maybe read over the play e-mail, maybe listen to AIO again for the first time in months (yeah, radio shows!).
-Laurel
Actually, we played out in the snow a little last night, Brandon and Feisal and my brother and Jay Jei and me. ...Jordan and Bunny came out, too, but they didn't get into it, which is just as well, because the five of us who did came back inside all snow-encrusted and left melty bits all over our entryway, but my parents (who couldn't remember the last time they'd seen me at such a high level of excitement/animation/happiness) just shrugged it off. ...I didn't want it to end, but it didn't: I relived it in my e-mail report of the party to Zinni and 'Nanda, and even managed to see everybody in my dreams.
...And then I woke up this morning, and it was still wonderful. My brother's unexpected sweetness and helpfulness from last night hadn't vanished--he woke me up around 9:15 with the news that he'd made me breakfast--which turned out to be an assortment of Eggo Minis with different toppings and an orange slushie made by pouring a can of Slice into a cup filled with snow ("Don't worry, I won't tell Mom you're having soda for breakfast," he informed me...*g*). I thanked him for his help with the party, and he kind of looked at the floor. "Well, you're not going to be here much longer...I just wanted to..."
So I spent the day cleaning under my bed (which I took my time over, but which was much easier than I'd expected) and reading and grinning like a madman over all the friends I have--and have had, but today I felt especially happy about it--and what a wonderful family, home, life, homelife, etc. It's just this...warmth, this tightness like I want to shriek out and jump up and down, all day it's been going on, and I just kept savoring it, 'cause I never dreamed this year would ever be like this, and that even if it was, I'd have nine more months to spend in it before college.
...And I can't really explain it, except in what appears to the naked eye like blatant saccharinity, but really, it's every happiness-running-over cliche ever. It makes Thanksgiving so...I don't know...redundant! *g*
Am going to go now, maybe read over the play e-mail, maybe listen to AIO again for the first time in months (yeah, radio shows!).
-Laurel
11.23.2002
Play is over. Oh, my goodness. I've written so much about it already in e-mails to Ananda and Zinni, so here I'll only copy what's currently on my AIM profile--that ought to fill in the gaps a bit:
Arsenic and Old Lace cast, I love and'll miss you all! ...Tuesday, 6 pm [that's our cast party]: Be there!
Oh, and "Best Screwups of the Play" awards go to:
Brandon: First place for multiple offenses: "blue bra-ouse", "you look like a kook!", breaking the wine glass, and many, many more I'm forgetting...
Jay Jei: Second for not being far behind: two falls on the stairs, "President of the United Straights"
Bunny: Third place for "Mortimer...we need to talk!", etc.
Feisal: Honorable mention for calling Mortimer "Johnny" half the time!
You guys, this made my year.
-[Laurel]/O'Hara/Peaches Latour
...That last is because in the play, O'Hara's mother's stage name is supposed to be "Peaches Latour", only Tharin liked the way I said it so much in my cruddy pretend-Irish accent that she started calling me that, and the whole cast picked it up.
It was great. We had tons of fun, screwed up all over the place, and just laughed (sometimes even on stage, which did not thrill Mr. C). Professional we kind of weren't, but everybody laughed.
So Tuesday'll be busy--economics field trip, immediately followed by SFE Ocean Bowl tryouts (I'm automatically in, but I'm supposed to help run them), closely followed by the cast party.
And then...back to normal life. Or what used to be normal life. Play's been normal life for the past month...
-Laurel
Arsenic and Old Lace cast, I love and'll miss you all! ...Tuesday, 6 pm [that's our cast party]: Be there!
Oh, and "Best Screwups of the Play" awards go to:
Brandon: First place for multiple offenses: "blue bra-ouse", "you look like a kook!", breaking the wine glass, and many, many more I'm forgetting...
Jay Jei: Second for not being far behind: two falls on the stairs, "President of the United Straights"
Bunny: Third place for "Mortimer...we need to talk!", etc.
Feisal: Honorable mention for calling Mortimer "Johnny" half the time!
You guys, this made my year.
-[Laurel]/O'Hara/Peaches Latour
...That last is because in the play, O'Hara's mother's stage name is supposed to be "Peaches Latour", only Tharin liked the way I said it so much in my cruddy pretend-Irish accent that she started calling me that, and the whole cast picked it up.
It was great. We had tons of fun, screwed up all over the place, and just laughed (sometimes even on stage, which did not thrill Mr. C). Professional we kind of weren't, but everybody laughed.
So Tuesday'll be busy--economics field trip, immediately followed by SFE Ocean Bowl tryouts (I'm automatically in, but I'm supposed to help run them), closely followed by the cast party.
And then...back to normal life. Or what used to be normal life. Play's been normal life for the past month...
-Laurel
11.19.2002
Oh, wow, the play is today.
It's 5:41 am--having nothing else to do after waking up shortly before my 5:30 alarm was to go off (I never get in the shower until about 5:50, no matter how early I wake up, just 'cause I don't really like washing my hair every single morning, and like to put it off), I decided to finally come and take some notes on Irish accent via Bono reading "Midnight Mass" (thanks ever so to Ananda for sending it to me!). You know, the play is tonight, so I figure it's about time I got a real Irish accent going. I've been meaning to take the notes for weeks, and have never yet gotten around to it. So...
...Will go back and do more of the same, one I finish listening to "Oh, Canada" and "Disappear".
Probably will not get to update this for a couple of days, maybe not 'til Friday. But keep checking. *g*
-Laurel
It's 5:41 am--having nothing else to do after waking up shortly before my 5:30 alarm was to go off (I never get in the shower until about 5:50, no matter how early I wake up, just 'cause I don't really like washing my hair every single morning, and like to put it off), I decided to finally come and take some notes on Irish accent via Bono reading "Midnight Mass" (thanks ever so to Ananda for sending it to me!). You know, the play is tonight, so I figure it's about time I got a real Irish accent going. I've been meaning to take the notes for weeks, and have never yet gotten around to it. So...
...Will go back and do more of the same, one I finish listening to "Oh, Canada" and "Disappear".
Probably will not get to update this for a couple of days, maybe not 'til Friday. But keep checking. *g*
-Laurel
11.15.2002
Saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets tonight. Was lovely. Though I could have done without Ron's slug attack.
Mm, am tired.
Play practice was all right today until the end. Then it sucked.
Talked a lot to Jordan and Jay Jei, though, which is always fun and amusing.
Lala, think I'll go now, as I've really nothing to say.
-Laurel
Mm, am tired.
Play practice was all right today until the end. Then it sucked.
Talked a lot to Jordan and Jay Jei, though, which is always fun and amusing.
Lala, think I'll go now, as I've really nothing to say.
-Laurel
11.10.2002
It's been a week since my last update. Huh, doesn't seem that long.
Not much going on that wasn't going on last week. Play practice is still cruddy--and so, as a cast, are we--our first performance is in nine days, and we are by no means ready for it, but perhaps we'll be all right after all.
English is a nightmare: my project is due in only three days, and I've barely gotten anywhere on it, but I hope to have Jane Eyre finished by tonight, that it might be easier to do the myriad questions.
Psych is pretty fun, though, though still a large amount of work.
Have off tomorrow, but must spend part at play practice, and the rest doing homework. Lalala.
Can still rally my spirits every time, though, managing to convince myself temporarily that this rehearsal will be different; and it not being so yet hasn't seemed to have too much ill effect.
Will get off as soon as I read my friends' blogs. I slept part of the afternoon, or I should have Jane Eyre done with already. Gosh, I wish M*A*S*H would play "The Joker is Wild" now, instead of on Friday and Saturday when I won't be home (Friday is play practice, Saturday is this awful school thing that I may or may not go into later).
Ah, well. Winter nights make me dreary; but bright mornings make me happy again. I've got lots to do tomorrow, but I'll do it. I don't have much choice.
-Laurel
Not much going on that wasn't going on last week. Play practice is still cruddy--and so, as a cast, are we--our first performance is in nine days, and we are by no means ready for it, but perhaps we'll be all right after all.
English is a nightmare: my project is due in only three days, and I've barely gotten anywhere on it, but I hope to have Jane Eyre finished by tonight, that it might be easier to do the myriad questions.
Psych is pretty fun, though, though still a large amount of work.
Have off tomorrow, but must spend part at play practice, and the rest doing homework. Lalala.
Can still rally my spirits every time, though, managing to convince myself temporarily that this rehearsal will be different; and it not being so yet hasn't seemed to have too much ill effect.
Will get off as soon as I read my friends' blogs. I slept part of the afternoon, or I should have Jane Eyre done with already. Gosh, I wish M*A*S*H would play "The Joker is Wild" now, instead of on Friday and Saturday when I won't be home (Friday is play practice, Saturday is this awful school thing that I may or may not go into later).
Ah, well. Winter nights make me dreary; but bright mornings make me happy again. I've got lots to do tomorrow, but I'll do it. I don't have much choice.
-Laurel
11.03.2002
Mm. If there was a CD burned off my Rio playlist, where all my mp3s on this computer hide, it'd be quite a set of extremes. Begins with VeggieTales's "Billy Joe McGuffrey" and "Credit Song", which could hardly be more cheery if they tried...
...to U2's "Electrical Storm (BBC Version)" and "Pride (In the Name of Love)", one song sort of pensive, one rockingly noble-type...
...to "Rootbeer Rag" (Dave McLauchlan) and "Dinky's Reel" (180 & the Letter G), two mp3s I salvaged off of audiophilez.com before it got shut down. The first is this cool little piano thing, the second a great Irish instrumental that makes me wish desperately that I knew how to Irish dance (sometimes I even try, but I'm sure I fail miserably)...
...to three other U2 (or U2-related) songs: "Gloria" (one of my favorites, only this's a live version Ananda put on a CD for me), "Mysterious Ways (Solar Plexus version)" (see previous), and "When the Stars Go Blue" (a Bono/Corrs joint effort that's very nice)...
...to last-year's feel-good Oscar nominees "Vanilla Sky" (Paul McCartney) and "Until" (Sting)...
...into the ones I usually listen to over and over: the beautiful "Clocks", by Coldplay, which I want badly to be able to duplicate on the piano someday; "The Fly", by U2, which is sometimes skipped because it's the kind of music I didn't used to like, and sometimes I'm just not in the mood; and the wonderful guitar-driven "In God's Country", U2, which I am always in the mood for, as far as I can tell...
...and then tonight's newbies, also graciously provided by Ananda: U2's "Drowning Man", "Trash, Trampoline, and the Party Girl", and "Slide"--the first and third to fit our semi-depressed-ness (first to correct it if possible; third, presumably, to sympathize in the meantime, only I haven't gotten to listen to it yet), the second because I like it and the version she put on my CD doesn't work on this computer...
...and Billy Joel's "And So it Goes", a lovely little song we sang for choir last year (thanks again, 'Nanda!).
Like I said, a wide variety, though U2 is definitely a recurring theme. ...Right, there's 15 minutes of I-want-to-write-something-about-music-but-I-don't-know-what-ness.
I wish the play would be fun again, but Mr. C has made that all but impossible (I'm beginning to be less and less willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he never got from Bequi and Bunny). It's gotten to the point where you have to go because you love the play, and not because you love the experience. And I do love the play, but it's still a bit on the frustrating side. I mean, to put it bluntly, at the moment, we suck. Except maybe Brandon and Jay-Jei, maybe, but the rest of us don't have much excuse. As for me, knowing my lines doesn't help if I can't say them correctly.
Hm, should read a bit and then go to bed. Looks like I'm going to freeze in the pretty-child shirt tomorrow, because I doubt I have anything else to wear, as I didn't do any wash. Ooh, come to think of it, did I even put the towels in the dryer? Hm.
-Laurel
...to U2's "Electrical Storm (BBC Version)" and "Pride (In the Name of Love)", one song sort of pensive, one rockingly noble-type...
...to "Rootbeer Rag" (Dave McLauchlan) and "Dinky's Reel" (180 & the Letter G), two mp3s I salvaged off of audiophilez.com before it got shut down. The first is this cool little piano thing, the second a great Irish instrumental that makes me wish desperately that I knew how to Irish dance (sometimes I even try, but I'm sure I fail miserably)...
...to three other U2 (or U2-related) songs: "Gloria" (one of my favorites, only this's a live version Ananda put on a CD for me), "Mysterious Ways (Solar Plexus version)" (see previous), and "When the Stars Go Blue" (a Bono/Corrs joint effort that's very nice)...
...to last-year's feel-good Oscar nominees "Vanilla Sky" (Paul McCartney) and "Until" (Sting)...
...into the ones I usually listen to over and over: the beautiful "Clocks", by Coldplay, which I want badly to be able to duplicate on the piano someday; "The Fly", by U2, which is sometimes skipped because it's the kind of music I didn't used to like, and sometimes I'm just not in the mood; and the wonderful guitar-driven "In God's Country", U2, which I am always in the mood for, as far as I can tell...
...and then tonight's newbies, also graciously provided by Ananda: U2's "Drowning Man", "Trash, Trampoline, and the Party Girl", and "Slide"--the first and third to fit our semi-depressed-ness (first to correct it if possible; third, presumably, to sympathize in the meantime, only I haven't gotten to listen to it yet), the second because I like it and the version she put on my CD doesn't work on this computer...
...and Billy Joel's "And So it Goes", a lovely little song we sang for choir last year (thanks again, 'Nanda!).
Like I said, a wide variety, though U2 is definitely a recurring theme. ...Right, there's 15 minutes of I-want-to-write-something-about-music-but-I-don't-know-what-ness.
I wish the play would be fun again, but Mr. C has made that all but impossible (I'm beginning to be less and less willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he never got from Bequi and Bunny). It's gotten to the point where you have to go because you love the play, and not because you love the experience. And I do love the play, but it's still a bit on the frustrating side. I mean, to put it bluntly, at the moment, we suck. Except maybe Brandon and Jay-Jei, maybe, but the rest of us don't have much excuse. As for me, knowing my lines doesn't help if I can't say them correctly.
Hm, should read a bit and then go to bed. Looks like I'm going to freeze in the pretty-child shirt tomorrow, because I doubt I have anything else to wear, as I didn't do any wash. Ooh, come to think of it, did I even put the towels in the dryer? Hm.
-Laurel
Have found loads of great new links and quizzes today, taking a cue from Ananda (see my side panel for link to her blog):
taebin's living4Christ! ...Just found this on my way in, which is why I'm putting it up first (control-C'd it, 'steada putting it in my notepad file, so I figured I'd better paste it before I forgot, or control-C'd something else, or something!). Not your typical blog, as I could tell from the top entry...the journal of a self-admitted imperfect guy in Korea. Pretty cool so far, though I've only read a few entries.
Wallace and Gromit: Soccamatic ...::squeak of delight:: A new Wallace and Gromit film! Hurrah! ...I'm not about to pay for the full set of ten (I'll wait for the video or whatever), but this two-minute-three-second sample was, figuratively, mouth-watering. I'm so happy to see new W&G adventures, no matter how brief!
altonbrown.com ...Yes. The Food Network host of Good Eats has a website. Maybe this's just for geeky fans, like me...but then, maybe it's not. Best quote of Alton's on the site: "I rarely sit down and watch Good Eats because it's tough to not get depressed over the loss of my hair and the expansion of my waist."
jamieoliver.net ...See above. This guy's from the great British cooking shows The Naked Chef and Oliver's Twist.
And now for the quizzes...
What Color Eyes Should You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla
::reads first part:: Ah!--::reads second part::--...ha. Okay, I'd like to point out, just for the record, that, first of all, I have blue eyes...
...and, secondly, that that's not how "dumber" is spelled.
Ya-a-a-ay! I got a hobbit legit! Didn't have to change one single thing! *g* ...My mom thought my Halloween hobbit-costume looked most like Frodo, so this's cool. But I'll try not to encroach upon your vastly superior Frodo-ness, 'Nanda, of course. *g*
...Right, not so many quizzes, but what d'ya want from someone who's only been wandering online an hour?
More another time. Cheerio!
-Laurel
taebin's living4Christ! ...Just found this on my way in, which is why I'm putting it up first (control-C'd it, 'steada putting it in my notepad file, so I figured I'd better paste it before I forgot, or control-C'd something else, or something!). Not your typical blog, as I could tell from the top entry...the journal of a self-admitted imperfect guy in Korea. Pretty cool so far, though I've only read a few entries.
Wallace and Gromit: Soccamatic ...::squeak of delight:: A new Wallace and Gromit film! Hurrah! ...I'm not about to pay for the full set of ten (I'll wait for the video or whatever), but this two-minute-three-second sample was, figuratively, mouth-watering. I'm so happy to see new W&G adventures, no matter how brief!
altonbrown.com ...Yes. The Food Network host of Good Eats has a website. Maybe this's just for geeky fans, like me...but then, maybe it's not. Best quote of Alton's on the site: "I rarely sit down and watch Good Eats because it's tough to not get depressed over the loss of my hair and the expansion of my waist."
jamieoliver.net ...See above. This guy's from the great British cooking shows The Naked Chef and Oliver's Twist.
And now for the quizzes...
What Color Eyes Should You Have?
brought to you by Quizilla
::reads first part:: Ah!--::reads second part::--...ha. Okay, I'd like to point out, just for the record, that, first of all, I have blue eyes...
...and, secondly, that that's not how "dumber" is spelled.
 |
 |
 |
Ya-a-a-ay! I got a hobbit legit! Didn't have to change one single thing! *g* ...My mom thought my Halloween hobbit-costume looked most like Frodo, so this's cool. But I'll try not to encroach upon your vastly superior Frodo-ness, 'Nanda, of course. *g*
...Right, not so many quizzes, but what d'ya want from someone who's only been wandering online an hour?
More another time. Cheerio!
-Laurel
11.02.2002
Went to Bethie's with Melly and Bunny tonight, as a TMBG-concert substitute. We had fish fry (Bunny works at Pizza Hut, and won't stand for pizza anymore for dinner most nights) and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail--on DVD. Rent this DVD, even if you have the video. The sing-along and especially the Lego-people version of the Camelot song are well worth the money you'll pay. *g*
Play went all right. We were missing so many people that I didn't have time to go out in the hall, 'cause Mr. C was always making me read another part when I wasn't onstage. I actually blanked out on one of my lines today--totally missed it--which is bad, 'cause I never do that. And my Irish accent was truly crap today, which was even worse. ...Aneya suggested, when I told her this, that I go ask Mrs. W for help, since she taught for some years in a heavily-Irish part of Boston, and has already regaled us with her impersonations of them. And Melly and Bunny think I should, too, but...well...
It's a wonderful idea in theory--especially since she'll be at the play, and if I screw up, she'll be ready with the comment that I should have asked her for help--but, you know, part of me still quails at the prospect of asking her how to pronounce my a's and e's and whether to ever tap my r's. ...I mean, there's an element of the ludicrous in the idea, isn't there? ...And besides...she loves my writing, and I feel like I should like her as much as Ananda did and does...but bare truth be told...she scares me sometimes. She's so quick to praise--but so quick to criticize, and both are lightning-fast and unsoftened. And both are equally frightening--I can't read her glowing-praise pen-scribbles on my essays without wondering whether to blush or flinch. I neither deserve nor want such ridiculously lofty exaltation as my writing gets...and I definitely do not want to Ph.D in writing, which she seems to have her heart set on, like my dad did for so long. Meanwhile, the other kids talk in study hall about the harsh-type things she's written on their essays...things like "self-indulgent"...and she told all the seminar groups how she was making Sarah write her essay over because it was negative and preachy, and Sarah's so nice, and so friendly, and so undeserving of something like that being told to the entire 37 kids...
...To put it bluntly, she scares me enough when we're dealing with things I can do. To have her instruct me in a vocal nuance I haven't been able to get...I don't know. I'm, well...not good at not being good around her. She forces me to new heights in my English, and for that I'm grateful. And she's very smart, and, in many ways, she thinks like I do. It's not that I don't like her. ...But I don't like her as much as Ananda did, and as I feel like I ought to, considering how obviously she likes me. ...And it's not even something I'd be doing with somebody else. It'd be just me. And I like small classes, but not that small. Not with anybody, and definitely not with someone who commands that much power.
Anyway, practice was sort of on the frustrating side--it hasn't been as much fun lately, as I said. I got a stick, though, that Mr. C made as my policeman-type billy club (whatever the heck they put "billy" in there for). It's wooden and thick, and--as I found out--it makes a lot of noise when you try to toss it from one hand to the other and end up dropping it on the stage. ...As I also found out, it hurts when you hit yourself in the knee with it accidentally.
Mr. C has been much more profane lately. I've never had a director who was. It's strange. ...Was also strange to drink out of the same bottle as Feisel. I felt sort of guilty and awkward and germy drinking the poor boy's Coke, but it's in the script (only we're supposed to be drinking Irish whiskey), and today I had to do it. He thought it was funny. Mr. C did not understand my finding this awkward and weird. ...'Course, there're a lot of things he doesn't see as such, like playing Mortimer when Tim's out, and making Rachel hug him instead (once again, I'm thankful that I'm O'Hara and not Elaine after all, though I do have to say PG-ish things).
Mm. Should go to bed.
-Laurel
Play went all right. We were missing so many people that I didn't have time to go out in the hall, 'cause Mr. C was always making me read another part when I wasn't onstage. I actually blanked out on one of my lines today--totally missed it--which is bad, 'cause I never do that. And my Irish accent was truly crap today, which was even worse. ...Aneya suggested, when I told her this, that I go ask Mrs. W for help, since she taught for some years in a heavily-Irish part of Boston, and has already regaled us with her impersonations of them. And Melly and Bunny think I should, too, but...well...
It's a wonderful idea in theory--especially since she'll be at the play, and if I screw up, she'll be ready with the comment that I should have asked her for help--but, you know, part of me still quails at the prospect of asking her how to pronounce my a's and e's and whether to ever tap my r's. ...I mean, there's an element of the ludicrous in the idea, isn't there? ...And besides...she loves my writing, and I feel like I should like her as much as Ananda did and does...but bare truth be told...she scares me sometimes. She's so quick to praise--but so quick to criticize, and both are lightning-fast and unsoftened. And both are equally frightening--I can't read her glowing-praise pen-scribbles on my essays without wondering whether to blush or flinch. I neither deserve nor want such ridiculously lofty exaltation as my writing gets...and I definitely do not want to Ph.D in writing, which she seems to have her heart set on, like my dad did for so long. Meanwhile, the other kids talk in study hall about the harsh-type things she's written on their essays...things like "self-indulgent"...and she told all the seminar groups how she was making Sarah write her essay over because it was negative and preachy, and Sarah's so nice, and so friendly, and so undeserving of something like that being told to the entire 37 kids...
...To put it bluntly, she scares me enough when we're dealing with things I can do. To have her instruct me in a vocal nuance I haven't been able to get...I don't know. I'm, well...not good at not being good around her. She forces me to new heights in my English, and for that I'm grateful. And she's very smart, and, in many ways, she thinks like I do. It's not that I don't like her. ...But I don't like her as much as Ananda did, and as I feel like I ought to, considering how obviously she likes me. ...And it's not even something I'd be doing with somebody else. It'd be just me. And I like small classes, but not that small. Not with anybody, and definitely not with someone who commands that much power.
Anyway, practice was sort of on the frustrating side--it hasn't been as much fun lately, as I said. I got a stick, though, that Mr. C made as my policeman-type billy club (whatever the heck they put "billy" in there for). It's wooden and thick, and--as I found out--it makes a lot of noise when you try to toss it from one hand to the other and end up dropping it on the stage. ...As I also found out, it hurts when you hit yourself in the knee with it accidentally.
Mr. C has been much more profane lately. I've never had a director who was. It's strange. ...Was also strange to drink out of the same bottle as Feisel. I felt sort of guilty and awkward and germy drinking the poor boy's Coke, but it's in the script (only we're supposed to be drinking Irish whiskey), and today I had to do it. He thought it was funny. Mr. C did not understand my finding this awkward and weird. ...'Course, there're a lot of things he doesn't see as such, like playing Mortimer when Tim's out, and making Rachel hug him instead (once again, I'm thankful that I'm O'Hara and not Elaine after all, though I do have to say PG-ish things).
Mm. Should go to bed.
-Laurel
11.01.2002
Greetings from economics class--computer malfunctions have left me some free time.
The problems from the aforementioned journal were all resolved, and I even managed to find myself a Halloween costume (I was a hobbit, and a much better hobbit than I was in May for the movie, too!), though I only stayed home and handed out candy.
Play is all right. I think I'm not quite as enchanted at the moment with it as usual, because it hasn't been quite as fun, but I think that'll only last until we have another big pre-rehearsal riot. Then it'll be fine. *g*
I hope my mom makes my oral surgery appointment soon. My wisdom teeth need to come out. Today it hurts to be surprised, 'cause when I drop my mouth open, my gums protest. So it wasn't very helpful that I accidentally elbowed my friend Megan in the chin this morning as I raised my arms to show off my T-shirt to Bethie. Wearing my TMBG one today, though we can't go to their concert tonight like we wanted because the theater won't let anyone in under 18 (they're serving alcohol or something). ...So we may go bowling or something instead, and if not, I'll see if I can help out with my church's international dinner thing (have never managed to be there for a missions conference dinner--someday I will, though, maybe, and maybe even tonight).
Have plenty of study hall today, and no psych homework to do in it, for once, so maybe I'll catch up on my English. ...Or maybe, against my better judgment, I'll just read.
I spend my offstage time from the play in the hall now, mostly. It's no fun staying in the room because Bunny's never in there when she's not onstage, and Jordan and Jay-Jei are always playing Go, which I neither know nor care to learn, and if they're not, they're both buried in scripts and books, respectively, and would barely look up if I waved a hand in their faces. ...Well, maybe Jordan would. But Jay-Jei definitely wouldn't. ...Anyway, I usually end up sitting, watching the play, eating some random thing, sometimes even murmuring the lines under my breath if the actors can't remember them and I can.
I may actually be able to study an Irish accent now--realizing while watching my LotR DVD that Dominic Monaghan is Irish, and spent part of yesterday on the DVD to hear him speak (and what a lovely voice he has, now I think about it--almost as nice as Billy Boyd's) and to figure out what hobbits wear, to help me with my Halloween costume.
...As I told Ananda, I think it's the first time I've ever wished that Merry had more lines than Pippin. His Fellowship bits aren't much to study. Wish Two Towers came out before the play. Ah, well--it's less than two months away now!
Cheerio for now--class'll end in another five minutes.
-Laurel
The problems from the aforementioned journal were all resolved, and I even managed to find myself a Halloween costume (I was a hobbit, and a much better hobbit than I was in May for the movie, too!), though I only stayed home and handed out candy.
Play is all right. I think I'm not quite as enchanted at the moment with it as usual, because it hasn't been quite as fun, but I think that'll only last until we have another big pre-rehearsal riot. Then it'll be fine. *g*
I hope my mom makes my oral surgery appointment soon. My wisdom teeth need to come out. Today it hurts to be surprised, 'cause when I drop my mouth open, my gums protest. So it wasn't very helpful that I accidentally elbowed my friend Megan in the chin this morning as I raised my arms to show off my T-shirt to Bethie. Wearing my TMBG one today, though we can't go to their concert tonight like we wanted because the theater won't let anyone in under 18 (they're serving alcohol or something). ...So we may go bowling or something instead, and if not, I'll see if I can help out with my church's international dinner thing (have never managed to be there for a missions conference dinner--someday I will, though, maybe, and maybe even tonight).
Have plenty of study hall today, and no psych homework to do in it, for once, so maybe I'll catch up on my English. ...Or maybe, against my better judgment, I'll just read.
I spend my offstage time from the play in the hall now, mostly. It's no fun staying in the room because Bunny's never in there when she's not onstage, and Jordan and Jay-Jei are always playing Go, which I neither know nor care to learn, and if they're not, they're both buried in scripts and books, respectively, and would barely look up if I waved a hand in their faces. ...Well, maybe Jordan would. But Jay-Jei definitely wouldn't. ...Anyway, I usually end up sitting, watching the play, eating some random thing, sometimes even murmuring the lines under my breath if the actors can't remember them and I can.
I may actually be able to study an Irish accent now--realizing while watching my LotR DVD that Dominic Monaghan is Irish, and spent part of yesterday on the DVD to hear him speak (and what a lovely voice he has, now I think about it--almost as nice as Billy Boyd's) and to figure out what hobbits wear, to help me with my Halloween costume.
...As I told Ananda, I think it's the first time I've ever wished that Merry had more lines than Pippin. His Fellowship bits aren't much to study. Wish Two Towers came out before the play. Ah, well--it's less than two months away now!
Cheerio for now--class'll end in another five minutes.
-Laurel
10.29.2002
Oh, for the love of all human decency.
Mr. C put me in charge of finding a new Rooney for the play--by tomorrow!--since Alisha's out for an extended time (past the play) for some random undisclosed reason. So I called Melly. She was, well...insulted, sort of. She didn't like "getting in by association and being a second choice". (She claims that she's not bitter that she got cut from tryouts, but I don't exactly believe her.) But she didn't ruddy give me an answer, so I spent all night trying to get hold of her. Couldn't. Bunny got on at ten, and now I know that Melly was with her, and that she doesn't want to be Rooney, but a ruddy lot of good that does me now, since it's too late to call Jamie or anyone else.
...I have to have a Rooney by second block tomorrow. It is simply not going to happen. And Mr. C said twice that he was putting it specifically in my hands.
Argh. Not as great a day. Play practice was a hassle, Jay-Jei was in some sort of mood (his only comment I heard, pretty much at all, was to me, how I used the word "like" too much, then he retreated into his copy of Dracula for the rest of rehearsal), Bunny wasn't even there, it's dark and gray, and I had hours of psych homework and will still be down to the wire. I need to sleep, but I never want to sleep at night; only in the morning, in places like AP stats class (yeah, last class's test? 70 out of 90...and that was one of the better grades in the class, from what I can tell).
...But I did get to watch some VeggieTales, so that was cool. ...And I've got English seminar tomorrow, which I think will be okay in the end, if a bit of a hassle.
-Laurel
Mr. C put me in charge of finding a new Rooney for the play--by tomorrow!--since Alisha's out for an extended time (past the play) for some random undisclosed reason. So I called Melly. She was, well...insulted, sort of. She didn't like "getting in by association and being a second choice". (She claims that she's not bitter that she got cut from tryouts, but I don't exactly believe her.) But she didn't ruddy give me an answer, so I spent all night trying to get hold of her. Couldn't. Bunny got on at ten, and now I know that Melly was with her, and that she doesn't want to be Rooney, but a ruddy lot of good that does me now, since it's too late to call Jamie or anyone else.
...I have to have a Rooney by second block tomorrow. It is simply not going to happen. And Mr. C said twice that he was putting it specifically in my hands.
Argh. Not as great a day. Play practice was a hassle, Jay-Jei was in some sort of mood (his only comment I heard, pretty much at all, was to me, how I used the word "like" too much, then he retreated into his copy of Dracula for the rest of rehearsal), Bunny wasn't even there, it's dark and gray, and I had hours of psych homework and will still be down to the wire. I need to sleep, but I never want to sleep at night; only in the morning, in places like AP stats class (yeah, last class's test? 70 out of 90...and that was one of the better grades in the class, from what I can tell).
...But I did get to watch some VeggieTales, so that was cool. ...And I've got English seminar tomorrow, which I think will be okay in the end, if a bit of a hassle.
-Laurel
10.25.2002
Today was lots of fun, full of weird, great happenings.
...First one was in AP English, coming in...got a flash of deja vu, 'cause Mr. K went into our classroom yesterday and imposed seat organization on Mrs. W. Apparently our 34 desks in rows were driving him crazy, and our two C-shapes (one within the other) weren't constructive enough a use of space. So he arranged our desks into the same pattern his desks are in, and actually made up a seating chart for us to fill in, instead of the random-grab seating we've been doing for the past eight weeks. Mrs. W seemed more amused than anything else. So was I, pointing and thinking of last year's English ("and Daf sat there...and then over there was me...and next to me was Bethie..."), and getting a funny mental picture of Mr. K trying to impose this somewhat trapezoidal standard on all the classrooms, starting with Mrs. W and moving from there..."Today, the English department; tomorrow, the world!"
::laughs:: I miss Mr. K. Mrs. W is great, and I'm glad no one makes me pick between them, but...sometimes, you know, I think I'd even go through the 83-person study hall all year, just to be able to witness him in action again. Bethie says I should join the MasterMinds team to "get my dose of K--" (that's half her reason for being on it, if I'm not mistaken), and I would, except that I'm already in Leo Club, SFE, and the play. I don't have the time, and I've already committed to the others.
...Then I had play practice. We hadn't been having as much pre-rehearsal fun this past week, but today we finally did. Fridays have been the most fun so far--maybe it's just because we're all in such high spirits at being done with school for the week. So Jordan and Jay-Jei and I went with Jordan to get a soda (he "doesn't like going alone")--only he wanted it from the bookstore, which is across the school, 'cause apparently the vending machines don't vend Code Red. We kept up a steady stream of fast, semi-coherent chatter as we walked there (we understood perfectly, but I'm not so sure a passerby would have)--only Jay-Jei stopped off somewhere on the way, leaving Jordan and me. So we talked about AP English and AP psych, both of which he's planning on taking next year, and which are my two favorite classes. Jay-Jei joined us again on the way back, and when we got back in the room, we joined Bunny, and we all laughed at stuff and talked about VeggieTales.
Then Mr. C said that he was only doing to this one part in the script, and therefore Jordan and I weren't actually needed. ...Right, that's the other thing that usually happens on Fridays. ...So we got sent into the yearbook office to study our lines and help each other memorize them.
...The yearbook office is about half the size of a classroom, maybe a little more, and really is the yearbook headquarters...but it's also, more or less, Mr. C's office. He's the only English teacher with an office, because the old English office got swiped (the teachers are on carts) to be used as a classroom, because we hadn't enough space. (See previous entries for my full opinion on this--my only comment here is: they'd never try that with the math/science/tech people...)
...An office it is, but the difference between the other departmental offices and this one is painfully clear. The MST one is all new computers, big windows, and smooth new tiling; the social studies one is bigger, though not as nicely equipped; the foreign language one isn't quite as big, but it's cozy in its way. ...The English one, such as it is, has no windows, old tiling, old walls, harshish lighting, truly ancient computers, a set of MacIntosh computers from around '96 or '97; one aging microwave; and old crappy chairs that I haven't seen the likes of since the early 90s. And it's covered, virtually every square inch of it, in Mr. C's stuff: overvest-things, remnants of projects he's assigned his class, textbooks, at least three reams' worth, by my estimate, of paper...
...And, over in a corner, yearbooks dating back to 1988.
This last was what caught the attention of Jordan and me. We'd each gone over our lines once, and weren't eager to do it again (he didn't know most of his and didn't really want to sit in a squeaky chair and learn them just not; I knew some of mine, but felt the biggest gack in the world to attempt Irish accent anywhere but the stage room, in a one-on-one environment)--and before long we started looking at them.
It was great. The pics of the teachers...oh, my gosh. Mrs. W with ironed-flat hair and no glasses...young female teachers with long, often-comical maiden names (some of which are still pretty young)...and--one of the best--a pic of Mr. C himself from 1990 or '91. He didn't have a heck of a lot more hair (neither did Mead), but what he did have was still blackish-brown, as opposed to the silver-gray it is now; and it was strange not seeing really thick eyebrows. ...Goodling, however, looked ridiculously, comically young. I couldn't believe he looked like that only ten years ago. ...I mean, all right, so ten years ago, I was in second grade, but you'd expect that kind of change in a kid. You wouldn't expect it in someone like him. ...I kept staring, wondering at how different he was even three years before he came...he couldn't have had any idea that he only had three years left here...
...Mr. C burst in on us around 3:15 or so, causing Jordan and me to clap the books shut in a guilty burst and attempt to hide them (though, you know, we could only have been in that corner of the room for that specific reason, so it's not like we'd really had a chance), but he only asked if we'd worked on our lines--we said, truthfully, that we had, though it'd probably been a good 45 minutes, at that point, since we had--and told us that he didn't mind us looking at them. ...Right, that's because he didn't know what--and who--we were looking at. But we nodded, he left, and we continued.
...We needed a scanner, and not the one in his office (it wasn't hooked up to anything, more's the great pity), but we didn't find one, and are instead biding our time, waiting for our moment to swipe one and photocopy certain photos, creating, perhaps, our own private blackmail stash. *g*
...In the meantime, we have to find a way in there again, because now Jay-Jei wants to see them. We managed to get Bunny in there to look at them, and Bequi, and Tim (though the latter didn't show much interest, and the middlemost only wanted to look for her older sister's yearbook), but I found Jay-Jei by the front entrance (of course!), sitting in a chair, bent over some thickish book (of course!), and there wasn't time by then to get back there. So Part II is coming soon--stay tuned.
Then I went home, watched as much as I could of M*A*S*H before I had to go, then went to a sports bar place for dinner (had wings and played trivia--though my trivia scores were pretty mediocre tonight), then to a hockey game. The twins were there. They're eight now, and the two most adorable little kids I can think of. ...They both loved the game. Jessica (the tomboy of the two) was once again devoted to my brother (she thinks he is, in my mom's words, "the coolest thing since peanut butter"), who played along well, though I think after a while it wearied him a little (he was trying to talk to one of his best friends). The game was easily won by our side--9 to 1, I think--and the fans were as rowdy and wonderful as ever. ...I love college hockey. It so kicks the NHL's sorry, televised butt.
Then I came home, had some hot chocolate and read some David Copperfield, and came down here. Am going to bed in a bit here, so I can wake up in time for M*A*S*H tomorrow--I've got some lost time to make up...*g*
-Laurel
...First one was in AP English, coming in...got a flash of deja vu, 'cause Mr. K went into our classroom yesterday and imposed seat organization on Mrs. W. Apparently our 34 desks in rows were driving him crazy, and our two C-shapes (one within the other) weren't constructive enough a use of space. So he arranged our desks into the same pattern his desks are in, and actually made up a seating chart for us to fill in, instead of the random-grab seating we've been doing for the past eight weeks. Mrs. W seemed more amused than anything else. So was I, pointing and thinking of last year's English ("and Daf sat there...and then over there was me...and next to me was Bethie..."), and getting a funny mental picture of Mr. K trying to impose this somewhat trapezoidal standard on all the classrooms, starting with Mrs. W and moving from there..."Today, the English department; tomorrow, the world!"
::laughs:: I miss Mr. K. Mrs. W is great, and I'm glad no one makes me pick between them, but...sometimes, you know, I think I'd even go through the 83-person study hall all year, just to be able to witness him in action again. Bethie says I should join the MasterMinds team to "get my dose of K--" (that's half her reason for being on it, if I'm not mistaken), and I would, except that I'm already in Leo Club, SFE, and the play. I don't have the time, and I've already committed to the others.
...Then I had play practice. We hadn't been having as much pre-rehearsal fun this past week, but today we finally did. Fridays have been the most fun so far--maybe it's just because we're all in such high spirits at being done with school for the week. So Jordan and Jay-Jei and I went with Jordan to get a soda (he "doesn't like going alone")--only he wanted it from the bookstore, which is across the school, 'cause apparently the vending machines don't vend Code Red. We kept up a steady stream of fast, semi-coherent chatter as we walked there (we understood perfectly, but I'm not so sure a passerby would have)--only Jay-Jei stopped off somewhere on the way, leaving Jordan and me. So we talked about AP English and AP psych, both of which he's planning on taking next year, and which are my two favorite classes. Jay-Jei joined us again on the way back, and when we got back in the room, we joined Bunny, and we all laughed at stuff and talked about VeggieTales.
Then Mr. C said that he was only doing to this one part in the script, and therefore Jordan and I weren't actually needed. ...Right, that's the other thing that usually happens on Fridays. ...So we got sent into the yearbook office to study our lines and help each other memorize them.
...The yearbook office is about half the size of a classroom, maybe a little more, and really is the yearbook headquarters...but it's also, more or less, Mr. C's office. He's the only English teacher with an office, because the old English office got swiped (the teachers are on carts) to be used as a classroom, because we hadn't enough space. (See previous entries for my full opinion on this--my only comment here is: they'd never try that with the math/science/tech people...)
...An office it is, but the difference between the other departmental offices and this one is painfully clear. The MST one is all new computers, big windows, and smooth new tiling; the social studies one is bigger, though not as nicely equipped; the foreign language one isn't quite as big, but it's cozy in its way. ...The English one, such as it is, has no windows, old tiling, old walls, harshish lighting, truly ancient computers, a set of MacIntosh computers from around '96 or '97; one aging microwave; and old crappy chairs that I haven't seen the likes of since the early 90s. And it's covered, virtually every square inch of it, in Mr. C's stuff: overvest-things, remnants of projects he's assigned his class, textbooks, at least three reams' worth, by my estimate, of paper...
...And, over in a corner, yearbooks dating back to 1988.
This last was what caught the attention of Jordan and me. We'd each gone over our lines once, and weren't eager to do it again (he didn't know most of his and didn't really want to sit in a squeaky chair and learn them just not; I knew some of mine, but felt the biggest gack in the world to attempt Irish accent anywhere but the stage room, in a one-on-one environment)--and before long we started looking at them.
It was great. The pics of the teachers...oh, my gosh. Mrs. W with ironed-flat hair and no glasses...young female teachers with long, often-comical maiden names (some of which are still pretty young)...and--one of the best--a pic of Mr. C himself from 1990 or '91. He didn't have a heck of a lot more hair (neither did Mead), but what he did have was still blackish-brown, as opposed to the silver-gray it is now; and it was strange not seeing really thick eyebrows. ...Goodling, however, looked ridiculously, comically young. I couldn't believe he looked like that only ten years ago. ...I mean, all right, so ten years ago, I was in second grade, but you'd expect that kind of change in a kid. You wouldn't expect it in someone like him. ...I kept staring, wondering at how different he was even three years before he came...he couldn't have had any idea that he only had three years left here...
...Mr. C burst in on us around 3:15 or so, causing Jordan and me to clap the books shut in a guilty burst and attempt to hide them (though, you know, we could only have been in that corner of the room for that specific reason, so it's not like we'd really had a chance), but he only asked if we'd worked on our lines--we said, truthfully, that we had, though it'd probably been a good 45 minutes, at that point, since we had--and told us that he didn't mind us looking at them. ...Right, that's because he didn't know what--and who--we were looking at. But we nodded, he left, and we continued.
...We needed a scanner, and not the one in his office (it wasn't hooked up to anything, more's the great pity), but we didn't find one, and are instead biding our time, waiting for our moment to swipe one and photocopy certain photos, creating, perhaps, our own private blackmail stash. *g*
...In the meantime, we have to find a way in there again, because now Jay-Jei wants to see them. We managed to get Bunny in there to look at them, and Bequi, and Tim (though the latter didn't show much interest, and the middlemost only wanted to look for her older sister's yearbook), but I found Jay-Jei by the front entrance (of course!), sitting in a chair, bent over some thickish book (of course!), and there wasn't time by then to get back there. So Part II is coming soon--stay tuned.
Then I went home, watched as much as I could of M*A*S*H before I had to go, then went to a sports bar place for dinner (had wings and played trivia--though my trivia scores were pretty mediocre tonight), then to a hockey game. The twins were there. They're eight now, and the two most adorable little kids I can think of. ...They both loved the game. Jessica (the tomboy of the two) was once again devoted to my brother (she thinks he is, in my mom's words, "the coolest thing since peanut butter"), who played along well, though I think after a while it wearied him a little (he was trying to talk to one of his best friends). The game was easily won by our side--9 to 1, I think--and the fans were as rowdy and wonderful as ever. ...I love college hockey. It so kicks the NHL's sorry, televised butt.
Then I came home, had some hot chocolate and read some David Copperfield, and came down here. Am going to bed in a bit here, so I can wake up in time for M*A*S*H tomorrow--I've got some lost time to make up...*g*
-Laurel
10.20.2002
Was on wordsmith.org's Internet Anagram Server (the anagram for which is I, Rearrangement Servant--how cool is that?) and typed in Colin Mochrie. Got wa-a-ay more anagrams than I ever expected to find. I've copied the best of them here and added the punctuation myself.
The general ones...
Chimeric loon [chimeric means overly imaginitive, plus a few other things]
Hi, Circle Moon
Microinch Leo
He, lorn; I, comic [picture him pointing to Ryan Stiles, then himself...*g*]
Michelin Co., OR [Oregon]
Ochre Limo, Inc.
rhinolice.com
Clinic room, eh?
Nice color, him
Mr. No--CEO, Chili
Musical ones [made all the funnier by Colin's inability to sing]...
I'm choir clone
Me Choir-Colin...
...C'mon, choir, lie!
Och! I'm Colin--re! [getting across his Scottish heritage, then singing]
Lo! I chime corn
...And my personal favorite...
Heroic Colin M.!
...Right. Far too much fun, I know. *g*
-Laurel
The general ones...
Chimeric loon [chimeric means overly imaginitive, plus a few other things]
Hi, Circle Moon
Microinch Leo
He, lorn; I, comic [picture him pointing to Ryan Stiles, then himself...*g*]
Michelin Co., OR [Oregon]
Ochre Limo, Inc.
rhinolice.com
Clinic room, eh?
Nice color, him
Mr. No--CEO, Chili
Musical ones [made all the funnier by Colin's inability to sing]...
I'm choir clone
Me Choir-Colin...
...C'mon, choir, lie!
Och! I'm Colin--re! [getting across his Scottish heritage, then singing]
Lo! I chime corn
...And my personal favorite...
Heroic Colin M.!
...Right. Far too much fun, I know. *g*
-Laurel
10.18.2002
As there's been little on my mind besides the play for the past week or so, I figure I might as well get it all out here.
It's been six years since I was ever in any sort of acting thing that was anywhere approaching as much fun as this. The sixth-grade play, Cinderella Meets the Wolfman, was lots of fun--well, except the time the director yelled at me in front of the other "schoolgirls" (the role I had) for missing three straight rehearsals which I hadn't known about, but whatever. ...Bethie and Nicole and a couple of my favorite teachers were in the play, and we (we sixth-graders, not the teachers) would do the Monster Mash backstage while the people in the last scenes got to do it onstage, and we'd play, or creep into the auditorium and watch the main characters in a sort of awe (they were wonderfully good in our eyes back then--but last December some of the choir people and I watched it at Sam G's house at the Christmas party and begged Sam to turn it off before the first act was even through), or sing our play songs. ...To this day, Bethie and I still remember, word for word, the song I was part of; I remember more of the one that she and Nicole did than Bethie herself does (I haven't asked Nicole about her memory, but I think it'd dwarf mine; it usually does, musically). When the play was originally read through, the three of us sixth-graders each had one line; by the actual performance, however, mine was the only one that had survived, and I delivered it with all the feigned importance of a schoolgirl writing an article for the newspaper: "What's your chief import?"
Eighth grade's production of Annie did have its moments, I suppose--one of them being the time I spent getting to know Ananda a little bit better--but most of my memories are wretched, consisting primarily of being mercilessly bossed around by the ninth-graders (except Ananda and another kind freshman, Kristina V.), especially one called Caitie, who was forever chastising me for stepping the wrong way in movements, or fidgeting, or doing anything without the director's express consent, whether or not he would have cared an iota. ...At our first performance, she lambasted me out in the hall for the shocking crime of waiting silently (and harmlessly) for Melly to come offstage (which others had done before me, I might add!), causing me to make a sarcastic comment about her being my personal babysitter, which only led her to inform me, in high dudgeon, that I'd been making trouble since the first rehearsal. Having suffered through all of Caitie's biting comments for the past million rehearsals, yet never drawn a word of criticism from the directors (oh, except the one time in practice I put my finger in my ear to hear my part during a song), I launched straightaway into a bitter tirade that ended in something about my preference for her never speaking to me again.
In tenth grade, I'd script-read well enough to actually be pitted against bright-star choir elite Lani for the lead role--and then we got to the dancing, and to the singing. Though I've been in and out of choirs and vocal ensembles all my life, my voice decided to desert me, and my dancing was as pitiful as usual, and I was cut outright.
This year, however, I knew I was in for a good time right off. No singing--only reading. This meant I could get a real part, not just some part where I delivered one line and was done with (or, as in Annie, no real lines at all).
And get a real part I did. O'Hara's more of a minor character, but it's paragraphs' worth of lines, sometimes whole tangents, and I have to say I revel in them. I finally have a character with a personality--heck, I've finally got one with a name! It's better than Elaine, the female lead I'd wanted. Elaine's really no more important a character than O'Hara, if you get right down to it: she doesn't do even one thing that's pivotal to the plot. I do. ...They make me swear twice, but outside of that, it's as great a role as you could ask for. I don't even have to show up for Act I rehearsals, though our cast's so fun that I sometimes I wish I did.
Our cast--oh, my gosh, what a wonderfully ragtag crew we are. All kinds, thrown together by this play about two sweet old ladies who poison people, and we come together so much better than I would ever have hoped.
There's Becky--well, Bequi, as she spells it--our resident near-beatnik. She writes poetry crammed with symbolism, is the one leading the discussions in English class (besides me, for a change! *g*), and dresses a lot like Claudia Kishi used to in the Baby-sitters Club books. She plays Abby Brewster (one of the poisoning old ladies). Before rehearsal today, she was the one eating Starburst with me, pretending to meditate, and giggling as we all "levitated" her.
There's Bunny--regular readers of this blog (and how many of you aren't, bare truth be told?) will know her already as the heckler of the waves at our choral/band picnic. She's just as funny, sweet, and hyper as ever, even without Melly at her side. She plays Martha Brewster, Abby's sister (the other poisoning old lady). Before rehearsal, she was the one relaxing by the wall--then jumping up to help us levitate Bequi and be in our dancing circles.
There're Rachel and Tim--they play Elaine and Mortimer (Mortimer's the play's main protagonist; Elaine's his fiancee). They're as close to normal as our cast gets--which fits, as their characters are more or less the most normal of the play. You fully expect them to be popular people if you only look at them, but they're both very nice. ...Neither of them were here before rehearsal, which is just as well, because they wouldn't have partaken of the insanity.
There's Brandon, Bunny's brother. He's always loud, always weird, and a huge classical music geek. His laugh, patterned after Mozart's in the movie Amadeus (and for those of you who've seen the movie, your guess is as good as mine why anyone would want to laugh like Mozart, but there you have it), grates on my nerves, but he's smart and sincere, and likeable when you get to know him. Before rehearsal, he joined in the games, and even improved upon them--making, for instance, a house-form with his arms for the rest of us to sashay under while we southern-danced (as in "swing your partner, do-si-do"). Brandon plays Jonathan Brewster (the play's main antagonist, a very Frankenstein-like character who kills people, too, only for spite, instead of out of "mercy", like the old ladies).
There's Feisel, originally from Somalia. He's only been here a year, but is pretty close to your typical American kid. Today before rehearsal, he described the plot of Juwanna Man to Bequi; southern- and Irish-danced with us; joked around with the pen-flashlight he uses for one of his scenes, pretending he was a car and blinking it as a turn signal before he changed directions in the hall; and called us to attention, general-style, when we stood against the wall to let people by. He plays Dr. Herman Einstein (unwilling lackey to Jonathan).
Then there's J.J., the biggest nerd, but one of the friendliest guys, you could ever hope to meet. ...Actually, he spells his name Jay-Jei, for bizarre reasons of his own (which I will hereinafter do, because I'm already doing that for Becky/Bequi), and his middle name is actually Robert. He was the one making up our new games before rehearsal ("Okay, Irish dance! ...Okay, southern dance!"), informing us of random factoids that I feel could get you money on Jeopardy!, and telling us the real, technical difference between a geek and a nerd ("geek" derives from some word that means "someone who'll eat anything"; that's what one originally was). ...He got a new nickname today when he told us (for the first time) that his middle name was really "Robert"--and accidentally spelled it "Orbert". (Needless to say, I was the one to inform him of the mistake. *g* Why he would even decide to spell it for us, goodness only knows.) Bunny says she's going to make him a shirt that says something like Orbert, King of the Alien Nerds, and he's all for the idea. He plays Teddy Brewster (a clearly insane, but harmless, nephew of the poisoning ladies--he thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt), which means the running gag of his part in the play is yelling "Charge!" and running up the steps (which he thinks are San Juan Hill). He does this at least three times.
And then there's me. The play has done wonders for my quality of life. Before rehearsals started, the year was pointless, and I went to school simply for fourth block (English or psych), and to graduate, so I could someday conceivably get out. ...Of course, now I go to school for the play...*g* My hyper side has full reign at rehearsal, mainly because everyone else's does, too. I laughed more, and harder, in the fifteen minutes before rehearsal began today than I've laughed in the past several days. My remarks probably aren't as amusing to everybody else as I find them at the time, but I keep throwing them out there anyway, and no one seems to mind. I feel sometimes like I annoy poor Mr. C a bit, though (which is probably an unfounded fear--and, if not, I'm probably not the only one who does), so I do make sure I know all my lines and what I'm doing. I play Officer Joe O'Hara (probably Joanne, when all is said and done), as I've stated before--policeman and (mediocre) playwright, somewhat annoying, and not all that bright.
...But I'm leaving out the minor characters, none of whom show up in Act II, which accounts for 90% of the rehearsals I've gone to (I don't show up until then). That's the thing--I wasn't there for the Act I rehearsals, but whatever bond was starting between the main characters, either I got in just in time for it, or it was there already and they just shrugged and let me in on the fun. I'm guessing the second--none of us have known everybody in the play, but I'm almost sure every one of us has known somebody: Bunny, Brandon, and I knew each other; Rachel, Tim, and Bequi knew each other--but Bequi also knew me; Jay-Jei and Feisel apparently knew each other--but I think Feisel also knew Tim.
The thing is, we're more or less the major characters of the play. Of the characters just described, I'm the only one who's not, but mine isn't too far below major--it's about as major as minor gets, if you get that at all. So I've been wondering how the more minor characters--the ones who only have a few lines, like I always used to--will fit into our insane little crowd. I mean, it won't be as fun if one of them doesn't.
Chris'll be fine--he knows Feisel and Tim, and he's easygoing enough to go along with our insanity. Jordan will be fine--he knows me, and probably knows Jay-Jei, too. And Tharin might be all right with it because she's friends with Bequi. And the two Bens'll be okay, maybe, 'cause they know Bequi and Tim, or at least each one knows at least one of them.
...But what about Alisha, who plays the policemen's boss, Rooney? She doesn't show until Act III, and we haven't even read through that yet, so she hasn't been to any rehearsals that I can think of. Worse, she isn't going to think well of our insanity--and especially not Jay-Jei--I can guess from six years of knowing Alisha (and not always getting along with her) that the only person she might think less of than Jay-Jei is Brandon, and that's a maybe. ...Which is bad, because Jay-Jei and I have become friends, more or less, in the past couple of weeks, and even thinking of what she's going to think of him, I'm bristling. ...Bequi and Tharin'll make an effort, though, if no one else (and we all should, but she has to want to talk to us, too...), so it ought to be all right.
...The third act, where Rooney bursts in and clears a lot of the plot up, and yells at the cops (this means Chris, Tharin, and me), is just not going to be a stretch for me. O'Hara is somewhat afraid of Rooney; Rooney is rather disgusted with and by O'Hara. As this is a highly accurate summary of our relationship in sixth and seventh grade (and still might be, for all I know; we're civil now, but we're still not fond of each other), it's going to be interesting.
I don't even know what we're going to do when this thing ends. I'm seriously going to be in major play withdrawal. ...I mean, SFE will take over, after-school wise. There'll be the Ocean Bowl to think about, and Leo Club. ...But what about Bequi and Feisel and Jay-Jei? Bunny and Brandon I'll see--and I guess I'll see Bequi in English. But we won't be all together in our madness.
I mean, c'mon. Today, along with the Irish dancing, southern dancing, meditation, levitation, word roots, Starburst, and all, while we were waiting in the hall (which happened for, like I said, fifteen to twenty minutes; there was a basketball meeting in our stage room), we also put on a five-minute rendition of the play, zipping through it Looney-Tunes-style, with Bequi and Brandon filling in for the temporarily missing Rachel and Tim, while playing their own parts on the side. It actually ended up being about a two-minute rendition. Some main plot points had been accidentally skipped, minimal dialogue had actually occurred, O'Hara hadn't come in at all (Mr. C arrived and asked me a question; when I turned back around, the others were done), and Act III was left out entirely (about half of us haven't read it yet). The only thing Jay-Jei did was come in at thirty-second intervals, say "Charge"--he hadn't felt like shouting it--and walk out (well, that does sum up his character fairly well, really). It was incredibly silly and a little inaccurate--but we laughed the entire time. It isn't so funny in the retelling, but, trust me, it was great.
...Who'm I gonna do that with after November?
'Cause that's the thing. It turned out that Mr. C only wanted to do one scene today, and I wasn't in it. But even if I'd known that, I'dve come anyway. I needed it. We got the news this morning that this kid from study hall last year--a graduate in Ananda's class--had killed himself. ...And the thing is, he had a lot of behavioral problems, and liked to talk about things like government conspiracies and who he'd kill if he could. I hadn't liked him much. ...But today I learned that he'd been in an accident of some kind when he was young, and it'd been partly to blame for his problems.
...Why didn't anyone tell me that before? I would've tried harder to be a friend, or at least I'dve been more patient with him. I mean, I was civil enough on the outside, but inside I'd thought him rude, annoying, and out-and-out frightening. I don't think Ananda remembers, but I tried to explain to her once, coming out of study hall to lunch, half in tears at something he'd been saying (I don't remember it anymore), my confusion at how anyone could think like he did, but I couldn't find the words. I'd never seen anyone so paranoid, or with such a low regard for human life--judging, at least, by the many things he said. ...I never thought he'd apply it to himself.
So many people knew about what was really going on with him. Why didn't anyone tell me? Swais knew I didn't like him. Why didn't he tell me, if so many people knew already? ...Pete didn't know either; we both knew, looking at each other in study hall, that we shared the same opinions, but neither of us knew--he couldn'tve; he'dve tried harder, too. What's Pete thinking? I don't have any classes with him now, save choir, and I wouldn't ask him there.
...But here, after school, in a play about death--well, about murder--just those fifteen to twenty minutes before rehearsal made me forget my sadness--'cause I was sad. It's the first graduate death that I've known the victim of--and it's the first death of someone I've disliked decidedly.
I only flinched once in rehearsal, and that was when we were telling all our schedule conflicts to Mr. C, and the list kept growing longer and longer, and he finally muttered, "Somebody hand me a revolver." I was the only one to say, "Don't say that." ...But I was in the back, and no one heard me.
...He's the kind of kid who would have joined us in our five-minute play rendition, and the Irish dancing, and everything else. And so long as he went with it, and didn't try to add anything twisted, he would have fit in just fine. ...But how could I have seen that, last year?
I had him in study hall all year, and wondered once or twice what such a kid would do with his life--end it never came to mind. If you'd told me that he had less than a year to live...it wouldn't have seemed real, I don't think. It kind of doesn't now. I'm not good at remembering lots of peoples' faces, but I still remember his, frozen in a smile. That was one thing for him--he smiled a lot. He had good points, sure. He was brave, and admired strength and bravery in others. He was at least honest, to my knowledge, though blunt. He was friendly enough, if you wanted to hear him. And he wasn't stupid--he just saw the world as his life had made him see it.
One of the Bens was in my study hall; he was the one the guy talked to all the time, expounding theories. Ben even seemed the smallest trace afraid of him at times, but I've no doubt they got along well. Chris, one of the policeman, was on the wrestling team with the guy. He knew him well, and liked him a lot. He knew about the injury, I'm sure.
...Why didn't anybody tell me?
Anyway, that's a somber side note that wouldn't have been here, had I finished this a day ago.
...But I've said most everything about the play by now, and have nothing much else. The others have the weekend to learn our lines; we run Acts I and II on Monday and Tuesday, and then start in on Act III. It's better fun with each rehearsal, as we get to know each other better, and it keeps me going. Truth be told, I tried out for the part, but now I stay for the people. O'Hara is a role that's only gotten more fun to play--but it's the chemistry we've got that's what'll stay, or so I hope, even when the set is taken down.
...I appreciated that before the boy's death--appreciated my friends, appreciated our wonderfully great cast--but it makes me do so even more.
The wrestling team will try to keep his memory alive, maybe dedicate their season to him. ...Like I said, I didn't like him; it's an odd thought to me, to dedicate a season to a person I remember well, and not as happily as they. ...But in a way, I have to keep him alive in my mind, too. It's the best way for me to remember why I talk to Brandon and Matt when they're being hopelessly dorky, even by the standards of a fellow dork. Because they're people, and they need people who can see their good sides and take the bad with them.
The play is wonderful, and when I say "the play", I often mean the people in it. What we may be saying about death, I don't know. I'm just a policeman, along for the ride, and thankful this thing's been here to make me happy this year.
...I mean, really. When I've got the play on the brain, sometimes I even begin to check myself, lest I start to believe, against my will, that this year will be fun after all.
-Laurel
It's been six years since I was ever in any sort of acting thing that was anywhere approaching as much fun as this. The sixth-grade play, Cinderella Meets the Wolfman, was lots of fun--well, except the time the director yelled at me in front of the other "schoolgirls" (the role I had) for missing three straight rehearsals which I hadn't known about, but whatever. ...Bethie and Nicole and a couple of my favorite teachers were in the play, and we (we sixth-graders, not the teachers) would do the Monster Mash backstage while the people in the last scenes got to do it onstage, and we'd play, or creep into the auditorium and watch the main characters in a sort of awe (they were wonderfully good in our eyes back then--but last December some of the choir people and I watched it at Sam G's house at the Christmas party and begged Sam to turn it off before the first act was even through), or sing our play songs. ...To this day, Bethie and I still remember, word for word, the song I was part of; I remember more of the one that she and Nicole did than Bethie herself does (I haven't asked Nicole about her memory, but I think it'd dwarf mine; it usually does, musically). When the play was originally read through, the three of us sixth-graders each had one line; by the actual performance, however, mine was the only one that had survived, and I delivered it with all the feigned importance of a schoolgirl writing an article for the newspaper: "What's your chief import?"
Eighth grade's production of Annie did have its moments, I suppose--one of them being the time I spent getting to know Ananda a little bit better--but most of my memories are wretched, consisting primarily of being mercilessly bossed around by the ninth-graders (except Ananda and another kind freshman, Kristina V.), especially one called Caitie, who was forever chastising me for stepping the wrong way in movements, or fidgeting, or doing anything without the director's express consent, whether or not he would have cared an iota. ...At our first performance, she lambasted me out in the hall for the shocking crime of waiting silently (and harmlessly) for Melly to come offstage (which others had done before me, I might add!), causing me to make a sarcastic comment about her being my personal babysitter, which only led her to inform me, in high dudgeon, that I'd been making trouble since the first rehearsal. Having suffered through all of Caitie's biting comments for the past million rehearsals, yet never drawn a word of criticism from the directors (oh, except the one time in practice I put my finger in my ear to hear my part during a song), I launched straightaway into a bitter tirade that ended in something about my preference for her never speaking to me again.
In tenth grade, I'd script-read well enough to actually be pitted against bright-star choir elite Lani for the lead role--and then we got to the dancing, and to the singing. Though I've been in and out of choirs and vocal ensembles all my life, my voice decided to desert me, and my dancing was as pitiful as usual, and I was cut outright.
This year, however, I knew I was in for a good time right off. No singing--only reading. This meant I could get a real part, not just some part where I delivered one line and was done with (or, as in Annie, no real lines at all).
And get a real part I did. O'Hara's more of a minor character, but it's paragraphs' worth of lines, sometimes whole tangents, and I have to say I revel in them. I finally have a character with a personality--heck, I've finally got one with a name! It's better than Elaine, the female lead I'd wanted. Elaine's really no more important a character than O'Hara, if you get right down to it: she doesn't do even one thing that's pivotal to the plot. I do. ...They make me swear twice, but outside of that, it's as great a role as you could ask for. I don't even have to show up for Act I rehearsals, though our cast's so fun that I sometimes I wish I did.
Our cast--oh, my gosh, what a wonderfully ragtag crew we are. All kinds, thrown together by this play about two sweet old ladies who poison people, and we come together so much better than I would ever have hoped.
There's Becky--well, Bequi, as she spells it--our resident near-beatnik. She writes poetry crammed with symbolism, is the one leading the discussions in English class (besides me, for a change! *g*), and dresses a lot like Claudia Kishi used to in the Baby-sitters Club books. She plays Abby Brewster (one of the poisoning old ladies). Before rehearsal today, she was the one eating Starburst with me, pretending to meditate, and giggling as we all "levitated" her.
There's Bunny--regular readers of this blog (and how many of you aren't, bare truth be told?) will know her already as the heckler of the waves at our choral/band picnic. She's just as funny, sweet, and hyper as ever, even without Melly at her side. She plays Martha Brewster, Abby's sister (the other poisoning old lady). Before rehearsal, she was the one relaxing by the wall--then jumping up to help us levitate Bequi and be in our dancing circles.
There're Rachel and Tim--they play Elaine and Mortimer (Mortimer's the play's main protagonist; Elaine's his fiancee). They're as close to normal as our cast gets--which fits, as their characters are more or less the most normal of the play. You fully expect them to be popular people if you only look at them, but they're both very nice. ...Neither of them were here before rehearsal, which is just as well, because they wouldn't have partaken of the insanity.
There's Brandon, Bunny's brother. He's always loud, always weird, and a huge classical music geek. His laugh, patterned after Mozart's in the movie Amadeus (and for those of you who've seen the movie, your guess is as good as mine why anyone would want to laugh like Mozart, but there you have it), grates on my nerves, but he's smart and sincere, and likeable when you get to know him. Before rehearsal, he joined in the games, and even improved upon them--making, for instance, a house-form with his arms for the rest of us to sashay under while we southern-danced (as in "swing your partner, do-si-do"). Brandon plays Jonathan Brewster (the play's main antagonist, a very Frankenstein-like character who kills people, too, only for spite, instead of out of "mercy", like the old ladies).
There's Feisel, originally from Somalia. He's only been here a year, but is pretty close to your typical American kid. Today before rehearsal, he described the plot of Juwanna Man to Bequi; southern- and Irish-danced with us; joked around with the pen-flashlight he uses for one of his scenes, pretending he was a car and blinking it as a turn signal before he changed directions in the hall; and called us to attention, general-style, when we stood against the wall to let people by. He plays Dr. Herman Einstein (unwilling lackey to Jonathan).
Then there's J.J., the biggest nerd, but one of the friendliest guys, you could ever hope to meet. ...Actually, he spells his name Jay-Jei, for bizarre reasons of his own (which I will hereinafter do, because I'm already doing that for Becky/Bequi), and his middle name is actually Robert. He was the one making up our new games before rehearsal ("Okay, Irish dance! ...Okay, southern dance!"), informing us of random factoids that I feel could get you money on Jeopardy!, and telling us the real, technical difference between a geek and a nerd ("geek" derives from some word that means "someone who'll eat anything"; that's what one originally was). ...He got a new nickname today when he told us (for the first time) that his middle name was really "Robert"--and accidentally spelled it "Orbert". (Needless to say, I was the one to inform him of the mistake. *g* Why he would even decide to spell it for us, goodness only knows.) Bunny says she's going to make him a shirt that says something like Orbert, King of the Alien Nerds, and he's all for the idea. He plays Teddy Brewster (a clearly insane, but harmless, nephew of the poisoning ladies--he thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt), which means the running gag of his part in the play is yelling "Charge!" and running up the steps (which he thinks are San Juan Hill). He does this at least three times.
And then there's me. The play has done wonders for my quality of life. Before rehearsals started, the year was pointless, and I went to school simply for fourth block (English or psych), and to graduate, so I could someday conceivably get out. ...Of course, now I go to school for the play...*g* My hyper side has full reign at rehearsal, mainly because everyone else's does, too. I laughed more, and harder, in the fifteen minutes before rehearsal began today than I've laughed in the past several days. My remarks probably aren't as amusing to everybody else as I find them at the time, but I keep throwing them out there anyway, and no one seems to mind. I feel sometimes like I annoy poor Mr. C a bit, though (which is probably an unfounded fear--and, if not, I'm probably not the only one who does), so I do make sure I know all my lines and what I'm doing. I play Officer Joe O'Hara (probably Joanne, when all is said and done), as I've stated before--policeman and (mediocre) playwright, somewhat annoying, and not all that bright.
...But I'm leaving out the minor characters, none of whom show up in Act II, which accounts for 90% of the rehearsals I've gone to (I don't show up until then). That's the thing--I wasn't there for the Act I rehearsals, but whatever bond was starting between the main characters, either I got in just in time for it, or it was there already and they just shrugged and let me in on the fun. I'm guessing the second--none of us have known everybody in the play, but I'm almost sure every one of us has known somebody: Bunny, Brandon, and I knew each other; Rachel, Tim, and Bequi knew each other--but Bequi also knew me; Jay-Jei and Feisel apparently knew each other--but I think Feisel also knew Tim.
The thing is, we're more or less the major characters of the play. Of the characters just described, I'm the only one who's not, but mine isn't too far below major--it's about as major as minor gets, if you get that at all. So I've been wondering how the more minor characters--the ones who only have a few lines, like I always used to--will fit into our insane little crowd. I mean, it won't be as fun if one of them doesn't.
Chris'll be fine--he knows Feisel and Tim, and he's easygoing enough to go along with our insanity. Jordan will be fine--he knows me, and probably knows Jay-Jei, too. And Tharin might be all right with it because she's friends with Bequi. And the two Bens'll be okay, maybe, 'cause they know Bequi and Tim, or at least each one knows at least one of them.
...But what about Alisha, who plays the policemen's boss, Rooney? She doesn't show until Act III, and we haven't even read through that yet, so she hasn't been to any rehearsals that I can think of. Worse, she isn't going to think well of our insanity--and especially not Jay-Jei--I can guess from six years of knowing Alisha (and not always getting along with her) that the only person she might think less of than Jay-Jei is Brandon, and that's a maybe. ...Which is bad, because Jay-Jei and I have become friends, more or less, in the past couple of weeks, and even thinking of what she's going to think of him, I'm bristling. ...Bequi and Tharin'll make an effort, though, if no one else (and we all should, but she has to want to talk to us, too...), so it ought to be all right.
...The third act, where Rooney bursts in and clears a lot of the plot up, and yells at the cops (this means Chris, Tharin, and me), is just not going to be a stretch for me. O'Hara is somewhat afraid of Rooney; Rooney is rather disgusted with and by O'Hara. As this is a highly accurate summary of our relationship in sixth and seventh grade (and still might be, for all I know; we're civil now, but we're still not fond of each other), it's going to be interesting.
I don't even know what we're going to do when this thing ends. I'm seriously going to be in major play withdrawal. ...I mean, SFE will take over, after-school wise. There'll be the Ocean Bowl to think about, and Leo Club. ...But what about Bequi and Feisel and Jay-Jei? Bunny and Brandon I'll see--and I guess I'll see Bequi in English. But we won't be all together in our madness.
I mean, c'mon. Today, along with the Irish dancing, southern dancing, meditation, levitation, word roots, Starburst, and all, while we were waiting in the hall (which happened for, like I said, fifteen to twenty minutes; there was a basketball meeting in our stage room), we also put on a five-minute rendition of the play, zipping through it Looney-Tunes-style, with Bequi and Brandon filling in for the temporarily missing Rachel and Tim, while playing their own parts on the side. It actually ended up being about a two-minute rendition. Some main plot points had been accidentally skipped, minimal dialogue had actually occurred, O'Hara hadn't come in at all (Mr. C arrived and asked me a question; when I turned back around, the others were done), and Act III was left out entirely (about half of us haven't read it yet). The only thing Jay-Jei did was come in at thirty-second intervals, say "Charge"--he hadn't felt like shouting it--and walk out (well, that does sum up his character fairly well, really). It was incredibly silly and a little inaccurate--but we laughed the entire time. It isn't so funny in the retelling, but, trust me, it was great.
...Who'm I gonna do that with after November?
'Cause that's the thing. It turned out that Mr. C only wanted to do one scene today, and I wasn't in it. But even if I'd known that, I'dve come anyway. I needed it. We got the news this morning that this kid from study hall last year--a graduate in Ananda's class--had killed himself. ...And the thing is, he had a lot of behavioral problems, and liked to talk about things like government conspiracies and who he'd kill if he could. I hadn't liked him much. ...But today I learned that he'd been in an accident of some kind when he was young, and it'd been partly to blame for his problems.
...Why didn't anyone tell me that before? I would've tried harder to be a friend, or at least I'dve been more patient with him. I mean, I was civil enough on the outside, but inside I'd thought him rude, annoying, and out-and-out frightening. I don't think Ananda remembers, but I tried to explain to her once, coming out of study hall to lunch, half in tears at something he'd been saying (I don't remember it anymore), my confusion at how anyone could think like he did, but I couldn't find the words. I'd never seen anyone so paranoid, or with such a low regard for human life--judging, at least, by the many things he said. ...I never thought he'd apply it to himself.
So many people knew about what was really going on with him. Why didn't anyone tell me? Swais knew I didn't like him. Why didn't he tell me, if so many people knew already? ...Pete didn't know either; we both knew, looking at each other in study hall, that we shared the same opinions, but neither of us knew--he couldn'tve; he'dve tried harder, too. What's Pete thinking? I don't have any classes with him now, save choir, and I wouldn't ask him there.
...But here, after school, in a play about death--well, about murder--just those fifteen to twenty minutes before rehearsal made me forget my sadness--'cause I was sad. It's the first graduate death that I've known the victim of--and it's the first death of someone I've disliked decidedly.
I only flinched once in rehearsal, and that was when we were telling all our schedule conflicts to Mr. C, and the list kept growing longer and longer, and he finally muttered, "Somebody hand me a revolver." I was the only one to say, "Don't say that." ...But I was in the back, and no one heard me.
...He's the kind of kid who would have joined us in our five-minute play rendition, and the Irish dancing, and everything else. And so long as he went with it, and didn't try to add anything twisted, he would have fit in just fine. ...But how could I have seen that, last year?
I had him in study hall all year, and wondered once or twice what such a kid would do with his life--end it never came to mind. If you'd told me that he had less than a year to live...it wouldn't have seemed real, I don't think. It kind of doesn't now. I'm not good at remembering lots of peoples' faces, but I still remember his, frozen in a smile. That was one thing for him--he smiled a lot. He had good points, sure. He was brave, and admired strength and bravery in others. He was at least honest, to my knowledge, though blunt. He was friendly enough, if you wanted to hear him. And he wasn't stupid--he just saw the world as his life had made him see it.
One of the Bens was in my study hall; he was the one the guy talked to all the time, expounding theories. Ben even seemed the smallest trace afraid of him at times, but I've no doubt they got along well. Chris, one of the policeman, was on the wrestling team with the guy. He knew him well, and liked him a lot. He knew about the injury, I'm sure.
...Why didn't anybody tell me?
Anyway, that's a somber side note that wouldn't have been here, had I finished this a day ago.
...But I've said most everything about the play by now, and have nothing much else. The others have the weekend to learn our lines; we run Acts I and II on Monday and Tuesday, and then start in on Act III. It's better fun with each rehearsal, as we get to know each other better, and it keeps me going. Truth be told, I tried out for the part, but now I stay for the people. O'Hara is a role that's only gotten more fun to play--but it's the chemistry we've got that's what'll stay, or so I hope, even when the set is taken down.
...I appreciated that before the boy's death--appreciated my friends, appreciated our wonderfully great cast--but it makes me do so even more.
The wrestling team will try to keep his memory alive, maybe dedicate their season to him. ...Like I said, I didn't like him; it's an odd thought to me, to dedicate a season to a person I remember well, and not as happily as they. ...But in a way, I have to keep him alive in my mind, too. It's the best way for me to remember why I talk to Brandon and Matt when they're being hopelessly dorky, even by the standards of a fellow dork. Because they're people, and they need people who can see their good sides and take the bad with them.
The play is wonderful, and when I say "the play", I often mean the people in it. What we may be saying about death, I don't know. I'm just a policeman, along for the ride, and thankful this thing's been here to make me happy this year.
...I mean, really. When I've got the play on the brain, sometimes I even begin to check myself, lest I start to believe, against my will, that this year will be fun after all.
-Laurel
10.17.2002
10.15.2002
10.14.2002
10.11.2002
Had a lot of time to think today, since we went about two and a half hours away from home this morning for a college visit (was pretty good). Most of my best thinking gets done in vehicles. *g* Sat there, listened to Pavlo (Spanish-Greek music--seeing My Big Fat Greek Wedding for the second time last night revived my interest in the CD) and U2's Achtung Baby (had "Zoo Station" stuck in my head all day--great song when you listen to it once or twice), let my mind wander and hover.
...A lot of it had to do with my English teachers--Mrs. W from this year, Mr. K from last year. See, Mrs. W really appreciates my English talent, and is the most enthusiastic about it than anyone since my fifth grade writing teacher (though, come to think of it, last year's creative writing teacher had some very nice remarks to make early this year, when I got my portfolio back)--but there's a downside to the appreciation.
See, Mrs. W used to work for admissions at Harvard, and therefore considers herself the local college guru...and that means that, for the past week, she's been firing college names at me--"See if this is on the tuition exchange list where your parents work...this place is good...[name of colleges I like] are all right, but this place...", so on ad infinitum/nauseum. ...And I appreciate the concern, but it goes like this: She hasn't been at Harvard for years. My dad has had much the same job for the past 25 years, and has, I think, actually gotten farther than her--which means, quite frankly, that they don't agree. A lot of places that she regards highly, my dad says aren't good anymore. ...And I tried to tactfully(!) explain this to her, the idea that she's not telling my dad anything he doesn't already know, but she seemed not to really believe that his qualifications were as good, since he doesn't work at Harvard.
At least my dad doesn't resent her trying to help--I'd thought that he would see her as sort of a nuisance (an O'Hara, in a way? *g*)--I really do like Mrs. W a lot--I didn't want him not liking her because of it. But he says he doesn't mind the suggestions. He and Mom are more amused than anything else. ...Which is better than I expected, at least.
I still say this is at least half Ananda's fault--*g*--she liked 'Nanda, too, and somebody didn't get around to looking at colleges until, like, February...and since she associates Ananda with me (or, well, probably the other way round)...!
Either way, I've decided that it's rather fun being one of the darlings of the English department. *g* 'Cause, really--Mrs. W has several favorites, but like I said, not since fifth grade, under Mrs. K, have I been called a dream student. Ms. M from creative writing still talks to me, and she liked my writing a lot. And I already knew that Mr. K (wonderful English teacher from last year) and Mrs. W talked about me among themselves, but my mom surprised me this morning by telling my dad just how high Mr. K's regard for me "obviously" was, even now (she watched us talking at parents' night; she's heard my stories about him from when I had study hall with him)--it hadn't been so obvious to me, but I was really happy that she thought so--'cause he's just so great, and I didn't realize how much I wanted his appreciation until she said that. (Other English department favorite is definitely Matt G. There may be more, but definitely him. ...But then, he's currently first in the class--he's the darling of pretty much the school at large, staff-wise--except probably the principal, who he's been bothering about a second AP English class. *g*) ...Play-director Mr. C isn't as cool as the others, but he doesn't scare me anymore, though he's definitely just as nuts as most of the rest of them. I sort of have to try to get him to tolerate me, though, 'cause I'm in his play. *g*
Actually, their talking to each other about me does have its downsides, come to think of it--I was really mad about the principal practically blaming the scheduling problems on the AP students, and I found that out about the time we were doing "The Pardoner's Tale" in Canterbury Tales, and, in my still-blazing-after-three-quarters-of-study-hall anger (not made any better by the fact that that study hall, as oft-mentioned, crammed 83 kids into a 30-person room), I made a twisted-humor remark to Mr. K that the irony of the tale fit our English situation incredibly well, because our principal says so many things about how smart her students are, and then crams us into tiny classes and devotes all the real attention to the flunkies--that she doesn't really care, like the Pardoner doesn't really care whether his parishioners are forgiven or not, so long as he makes the money. ...And I then made the further remark (just to get myself in farther!)--in an obvious not that I will, but I *could*, and I *want* to way--that someone with some English talent could parody the tale (rewrite it, that is, keeping the original iambic pentameter format) to make the principal the villain-figure, instead of the hypocritical Pardoner. I mean, it fit so well. ...I assured Mr. K that I wasn't going to (I knew what'd happened to Dan, in Ananda's grade, when he did something vaguely like it as a sophomore), but that somebody almost should. ...And to this day, I wonder just how much of that remark made its way to Mrs. W, and how much he left out, but next day, in English, came the following remark from Mrs. W during class discussion: "Mr. K was telling me how much you enjoyed this, Laurel. ...Tell us why."
...I didn't think to look and see if she really knew. I'd dropped my eyes and was busy thinking of a response that wouldn't get me in trouble. (Although, quite frankly, the thought of telling the truth crossed my mind for about half a second.) ...Matt'd been there. He knew the real reason why (which still makes me cringe--we don't know each other that well, and that's not quite the impression I like giving on anyone...). So did Aneya, whom I'd told, still ticked off, the night before on AIM. ...I did manage to stammer out something acceptable after my initial, too-caught-off-guard-to-be-stifled "Ohh..." of obvious oh-crap inflection, but I sat there for a while after that, probably with cheeks afire, thinking of Mr. K, and wondering just how many levels of tact he'd employed. I mean, he's sharper than I ever knew, if he set out to show me what a bad idea just saying that to anybody was. I don't know. He hated our English plight almost as much as we did, and certainly it was an idea Mrs. W would have reacted to in the same way as he did (outwardly warning against it, but I can't think that he didn't like the idea even a little): maybe he'd been secretly amused, and had passed it off to Mrs. W--which makes me wonder if she knew, or if he'd decided to amuse himself by only telling her I'd liked the irony, and keeping the other part as his own secret (it strikes me as something he would do), or what. ...I haven't asked. I don't think I ever will. ...But, oddly enough, no matter which it was, I actually came out of that not just with more tact (at least on school grounds), but liking him even better--even as I thought to myself, half-annoyed and half-amused, that was *mean*!
I also heard something this morning that also, bafflingly, made me like both Mrs. F (who advises Leo Club) and Mrs. W better--Mrs. F had been talking to my mom at parents' night about our English problem, and made a comment that my mom had laughed at as being very apt: that Mrs. W is not used to not getting her own way. ...'Cause, the thing is, it's one of those things that I didn't notice myself, but now that I think about it, it's so true--the way she runs my English class, petitions the principal, and corners me in the hall and fires colleges at me--she's so strong-minded. I mean, she's one of the school's older teachers, she's ruddy smart, and she's got more connections than a flight to Hawaii. She's so strong-minded--she fully expects to get exactly what she wants, the way she wants it, and it made me laugh, but it also made me take a second look at Mrs. F, who's about Mrs. W's age herself, and maybe older. She's this semi-strange librarian, and half the time she's so up-to-date, and half the time she's so out of touch--you can never quite figure out what areas she gets, teenager-wise, and what ones she doesn't--I can't imagine her as the activist college student she was, like I can imagine Ananda's mom that way (though, you know, Ananda's mom is considerably younger). But I hadn't thought of her as someone as sharp as Mrs. W is--but she is. She can read people. And like with Mr. K, there are other things she's done and said that make me see that she is, now that I've thought of it. I hadn't noticed how fine a line Mrs. W skirts between guidance and compulsion, but now I do, and it's she who brought to the front of her mind the kind of feeling that's played in the back of mine. ...But, like I said, for some reason, I actually like Mrs. W better, now that I can laugh at that. I mean, I like her, but what that made me like about her was different. ...I don't know why--I don't think it's a power thing--but it's easier to like her better now that I know that she doesn't know as much about college as she thinks, and that sometimes she can seem like a bit of a spoiled brat. Like I said, I don't think it was because she seemed so tower-of-knowledge, and now she's not. ...I think maybe it's because now it's not so serious when she deals with me. I mean, I love her love of my writing, but there's a certain amount of weight involved there, too. She's funny with us sometimes, but she's so much more serious with me--always asking how I like this book we're doing, asking about college, asking about whether I'm going to be on MasterMinds. ...I think knowing the stuff about her brings the seriousness down to a more manageable level.
...I can do what Mr. K maybe did, and keep some of my knowledge back, to amuse myself. *g*
-Laurel
...A lot of it had to do with my English teachers--Mrs. W from this year, Mr. K from last year. See, Mrs. W really appreciates my English talent, and is the most enthusiastic about it than anyone since my fifth grade writing teacher (though, come to think of it, last year's creative writing teacher had some very nice remarks to make early this year, when I got my portfolio back)--but there's a downside to the appreciation.
See, Mrs. W used to work for admissions at Harvard, and therefore considers herself the local college guru...and that means that, for the past week, she's been firing college names at me--"See if this is on the tuition exchange list where your parents work...this place is good...[name of colleges I like] are all right, but this place...", so on ad infinitum/nauseum. ...And I appreciate the concern, but it goes like this: She hasn't been at Harvard for years. My dad has had much the same job for the past 25 years, and has, I think, actually gotten farther than her--which means, quite frankly, that they don't agree. A lot of places that she regards highly, my dad says aren't good anymore. ...And I tried to tactfully(!) explain this to her, the idea that she's not telling my dad anything he doesn't already know, but she seemed not to really believe that his qualifications were as good, since he doesn't work at Harvard.
At least my dad doesn't resent her trying to help--I'd thought that he would see her as sort of a nuisance (an O'Hara, in a way? *g*)--I really do like Mrs. W a lot--I didn't want him not liking her because of it. But he says he doesn't mind the suggestions. He and Mom are more amused than anything else. ...Which is better than I expected, at least.
I still say this is at least half Ananda's fault--*g*--she liked 'Nanda, too, and somebody didn't get around to looking at colleges until, like, February...and since she associates Ananda with me (or, well, probably the other way round)...!
Either way, I've decided that it's rather fun being one of the darlings of the English department. *g* 'Cause, really--Mrs. W has several favorites, but like I said, not since fifth grade, under Mrs. K, have I been called a dream student. Ms. M from creative writing still talks to me, and she liked my writing a lot. And I already knew that Mr. K (wonderful English teacher from last year) and Mrs. W talked about me among themselves, but my mom surprised me this morning by telling my dad just how high Mr. K's regard for me "obviously" was, even now (she watched us talking at parents' night; she's heard my stories about him from when I had study hall with him)--it hadn't been so obvious to me, but I was really happy that she thought so--'cause he's just so great, and I didn't realize how much I wanted his appreciation until she said that. (Other English department favorite is definitely Matt G. There may be more, but definitely him. ...But then, he's currently first in the class--he's the darling of pretty much the school at large, staff-wise--except probably the principal, who he's been bothering about a second AP English class. *g*) ...Play-director Mr. C isn't as cool as the others, but he doesn't scare me anymore, though he's definitely just as nuts as most of the rest of them. I sort of have to try to get him to tolerate me, though, 'cause I'm in his play. *g*
Actually, their talking to each other about me does have its downsides, come to think of it--I was really mad about the principal practically blaming the scheduling problems on the AP students, and I found that out about the time we were doing "The Pardoner's Tale" in Canterbury Tales, and, in my still-blazing-after-three-quarters-of-study-hall anger (not made any better by the fact that that study hall, as oft-mentioned, crammed 83 kids into a 30-person room), I made a twisted-humor remark to Mr. K that the irony of the tale fit our English situation incredibly well, because our principal says so many things about how smart her students are, and then crams us into tiny classes and devotes all the real attention to the flunkies--that she doesn't really care, like the Pardoner doesn't really care whether his parishioners are forgiven or not, so long as he makes the money. ...And I then made the further remark (just to get myself in farther!)--in an obvious not that I will, but I *could*, and I *want* to way--that someone with some English talent could parody the tale (rewrite it, that is, keeping the original iambic pentameter format) to make the principal the villain-figure, instead of the hypocritical Pardoner. I mean, it fit so well. ...I assured Mr. K that I wasn't going to (I knew what'd happened to Dan, in Ananda's grade, when he did something vaguely like it as a sophomore), but that somebody almost should. ...And to this day, I wonder just how much of that remark made its way to Mrs. W, and how much he left out, but next day, in English, came the following remark from Mrs. W during class discussion: "Mr. K was telling me how much you enjoyed this, Laurel. ...Tell us why."
...I didn't think to look and see if she really knew. I'd dropped my eyes and was busy thinking of a response that wouldn't get me in trouble. (Although, quite frankly, the thought of telling the truth crossed my mind for about half a second.) ...Matt'd been there. He knew the real reason why (which still makes me cringe--we don't know each other that well, and that's not quite the impression I like giving on anyone...). So did Aneya, whom I'd told, still ticked off, the night before on AIM. ...I did manage to stammer out something acceptable after my initial, too-caught-off-guard-to-be-stifled "Ohh..." of obvious oh-crap inflection, but I sat there for a while after that, probably with cheeks afire, thinking of Mr. K, and wondering just how many levels of tact he'd employed. I mean, he's sharper than I ever knew, if he set out to show me what a bad idea just saying that to anybody was. I don't know. He hated our English plight almost as much as we did, and certainly it was an idea Mrs. W would have reacted to in the same way as he did (outwardly warning against it, but I can't think that he didn't like the idea even a little): maybe he'd been secretly amused, and had passed it off to Mrs. W--which makes me wonder if she knew, or if he'd decided to amuse himself by only telling her I'd liked the irony, and keeping the other part as his own secret (it strikes me as something he would do), or what. ...I haven't asked. I don't think I ever will. ...But, oddly enough, no matter which it was, I actually came out of that not just with more tact (at least on school grounds), but liking him even better--even as I thought to myself, half-annoyed and half-amused, that was *mean*!
I also heard something this morning that also, bafflingly, made me like both Mrs. F (who advises Leo Club) and Mrs. W better--Mrs. F had been talking to my mom at parents' night about our English problem, and made a comment that my mom had laughed at as being very apt: that Mrs. W is not used to not getting her own way. ...'Cause, the thing is, it's one of those things that I didn't notice myself, but now that I think about it, it's so true--the way she runs my English class, petitions the principal, and corners me in the hall and fires colleges at me--she's so strong-minded. I mean, she's one of the school's older teachers, she's ruddy smart, and she's got more connections than a flight to Hawaii. She's so strong-minded--she fully expects to get exactly what she wants, the way she wants it, and it made me laugh, but it also made me take a second look at Mrs. F, who's about Mrs. W's age herself, and maybe older. She's this semi-strange librarian, and half the time she's so up-to-date, and half the time she's so out of touch--you can never quite figure out what areas she gets, teenager-wise, and what ones she doesn't--I can't imagine her as the activist college student she was, like I can imagine Ananda's mom that way (though, you know, Ananda's mom is considerably younger). But I hadn't thought of her as someone as sharp as Mrs. W is--but she is. She can read people. And like with Mr. K, there are other things she's done and said that make me see that she is, now that I've thought of it. I hadn't noticed how fine a line Mrs. W skirts between guidance and compulsion, but now I do, and it's she who brought to the front of her mind the kind of feeling that's played in the back of mine. ...But, like I said, for some reason, I actually like Mrs. W better, now that I can laugh at that. I mean, I like her, but what that made me like about her was different. ...I don't know why--I don't think it's a power thing--but it's easier to like her better now that I know that she doesn't know as much about college as she thinks, and that sometimes she can seem like a bit of a spoiled brat. Like I said, I don't think it was because she seemed so tower-of-knowledge, and now she's not. ...I think maybe it's because now it's not so serious when she deals with me. I mean, I love her love of my writing, but there's a certain amount of weight involved there, too. She's funny with us sometimes, but she's so much more serious with me--always asking how I like this book we're doing, asking about college, asking about whether I'm going to be on MasterMinds. ...I think knowing the stuff about her brings the seriousness down to a more manageable level.
...I can do what Mr. K maybe did, and keep some of my knowledge back, to amuse myself. *g*
-Laurel