Today was an ass-kicker. Not that anything I did today was terribly difficult, but I was busy for pretty much every minute between noon and, oh, about 2 minutes ago. This isn't unusual for me, but it was the first day of its kind this semester, so it kind of took me by surprise. This week picks up day by day, and Romeo and Juliet starts next week, so I'll pretty much be in Energizer Bunny Mode until, oh, graduation.
Woah.
Graduation...
Nope, not time for that post yet. I've got too many other immediate things to write about. Namely, Kari Margolis, who is a guest artist at Millikin for a couple of weeks. Being in Romeo and Juliet keeps me from being eligible for casting in her project, but I did get to attend her workshop last night. She's this intense, dark-featured 53-year-old woman with deep-set eyes and wrinkles and huge curly black hair. She flaunts her fabulous physique with her black belly-tops, and who can blame her. If I look that fantastic at 53, I'll walk around naked. Hell, if I had that body now...anyway.
Her whole philosophy is about developing a tool basket for actors the way musicians have scales. It's very breath-based and physical. I could go on and on about the individual exercises she had us do, but I can sum up by saying I walked into the theatre depressed, unenergized, and pissy. I walked out with my chin up, breathing deeply, ready to conquer anything. This was after an hour and a half; and I remembered why I love theatre so fucking much. I've had a lot of realizations about myself as an actor over these (almost) four years at this school, but I feel like all of the important ones are flooding into me this semester. I'm sure they've been a long-time coming, and I'm only just now being about to point them out, but it's exciting. Anymore, the semester just feels like a slow countdown from ten. I'm ready for the 3,2,1 GO, and the anticipation is bubbling so much I feel I could burst at any second. Of course, then I talk with my friends about planning our post-graduation banquet with our parents, and I think about that Monday morning after it's all over, and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't know how the bubbling anticipation and the sinking dread co-exist, but co-exist they do. Writing about them now, I can almost feel the conflict, and it's giving me a kind of vertigo. I want to laugh and vomit at the same time. I'm sure anyone who has been a second semester senior would tell me this is just typical. Well, that may be so, but typical sure feels like some exotic, completely illegal, mind-blowing drug. And I don't know what's "typical" about that.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Why is the first one always so hard?
That's what she said...
But I digress.
Already.
Ok. Yet another attempt at the oddity that is "blogging." I'm always so very inconsistent with these things. Not that it matters, though, because I think I am my only audience member. And I'm fine with that. I have an outlet for my thoughts. It's a little black journal that sits next to my bed. I write in it every night. It used to be a little blue journal, but I finally filled that one. I liked that one better. It invited my thoughts more. I know it's stupid, don't ask me why, but I liked it more. I'm already thinking about getting a different journal to replace this little black one. I sense a pattern...livejournal, facebook, myspace, blogspot, blue journal, black journal. I've always been picky and fickle about the stupidest things, meanwhile not giving two shits about major things like...oh, I don't know...hair color? Not that major, I realize, but I'm tired and can't think of serious things.
I make stupid jokes. (i.e. that's what she said) Really, I'm a twelve-year-old boy, if we go by my typical humour, although I've been known to crack somewhat sophisticated jokes on a regular basis. And, yes, I still spell humour with a u even though I haven't been in the UK for over a year, and even then, it was only three months. I like to imagine I'm actually British. Well, no, a charming American who has adapted to the British ways after spending extended amounts of time there. Have I mentioned I'm also a daydreamer? I can't even think about the countless hours I've wasted dreaming up scenarios about my life now, and the one I think I'll be living this time next year. Imagined jobs, apartments, boyfriends, dogs, washboard abs...it's all so fabulous in my head. There's no possible way any of it will happen the way it's all laid out in my head (except maybe for the dog and the washboard abs...I'm on my way), but a girl can dream. And, oh, do I.
But I digress.
Already.
Ok. Yet another attempt at the oddity that is "blogging." I'm always so very inconsistent with these things. Not that it matters, though, because I think I am my only audience member. And I'm fine with that. I have an outlet for my thoughts. It's a little black journal that sits next to my bed. I write in it every night. It used to be a little blue journal, but I finally filled that one. I liked that one better. It invited my thoughts more. I know it's stupid, don't ask me why, but I liked it more. I'm already thinking about getting a different journal to replace this little black one. I sense a pattern...livejournal, facebook, myspace, blogspot, blue journal, black journal. I've always been picky and fickle about the stupidest things, meanwhile not giving two shits about major things like...oh, I don't know...hair color? Not that major, I realize, but I'm tired and can't think of serious things.
I make stupid jokes. (i.e. that's what she said) Really, I'm a twelve-year-old boy, if we go by my typical humour, although I've been known to crack somewhat sophisticated jokes on a regular basis. And, yes, I still spell humour with a u even though I haven't been in the UK for over a year, and even then, it was only three months. I like to imagine I'm actually British. Well, no, a charming American who has adapted to the British ways after spending extended amounts of time there. Have I mentioned I'm also a daydreamer? I can't even think about the countless hours I've wasted dreaming up scenarios about my life now, and the one I think I'll be living this time next year. Imagined jobs, apartments, boyfriends, dogs, washboard abs...it's all so fabulous in my head. There's no possible way any of it will happen the way it's all laid out in my head (except maybe for the dog and the washboard abs...I'm on my way), but a girl can dream. And, oh, do I.
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