October in the Basement with Graham

Here I sit next to Graham, whose face is illuminated by the reflection of Fallout 3 from the white sheet that is the screen. It is just shy of three o'clock in the morning. Two and a half hours ago we were driving back from the midnight launch of the game. Which we had reserved 3 hours prior to the midnight release. The release that only six people showed up to- me being the token chick. This is Cartersville: the geek population is about 20 and it has 3 game stores. Although the excitement level of waiting for the game is absent, the fact that the game is closer to tangible than in the Gamestops in Kennesaw is a nice amenity. In short, Cartersville has its perks.

I have spent the past month living in Graham's basement, in our squalor. Doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, watching movies and the Simpsons, eating microwaveable pseudofoods, wishing his mother would stop calling, and playing video games. I have dropped off the map and it's this solitude that holds me back from regretting it. I love the fact that I'm living with a guy who is just as much of a slob as me, loves me, and embraces my inconsistensies as much as I embrace his. I live far away from work but I really look forward to coming home and seeing him. I love driving through rural North Georgia to come home. But it is a bitch on my gas tank.

Speaking of which, *knock on wood*, gas has gone down by a $1.50 roughly, which is highly beneficial for my commute.

We are still looking for a place that's closer to town and the rest of civilization. I wish there were better schools up here but alas I love Kennesaw too much and Graham's set on GA State. Our search is on hiatus, though, because we don't have the money for a security deposit. We do have some roommates lined up, though!

This is what I get for allowing Graham to play Fallout 3 first. Now I have to wither and blog in my dispair. Woe is me- I want to play Oblivion!

Yeah, a good portion of my next paycheck is probably going to go towards video games. Sam and Max for the Wii, Morrowind Game of the Year Edition, and, if I'm feeling saucy, Fable 2. But we shall see about the last one; I will probably get it when it's cheaper.

Cheers for now. Got work in the morning and need to sleep enough to get up and make coffee to wake up more.

One Minute Entry

And so I'm back to my normal speed of blogging. Which is once every six weeks. Which could very well match up with a menstrual cycle and therefore consist of "woe-is-me" crap that does not make for a good entry.

So in short, Quincy my laptop got murdered. By me. By accident so no charges were pressed. We tried to revive him but alas we could not and he's but a Gateway corpse.

Went to Dragon*Con and met Nathan Fillion. Now I can die fairly happy.

Am moving in with Graham into a rental house somewhere. Preferably soon. Can't wait to have my own place.

Yeah. Short entry. I'll come up with content soon. Promise!

Cheers

VIDEO BLOOOOOOOOOOOG!!!

Yeah. This momentous moment in Leevee blogging history totally deserves all caps. BEHOLD! My first video blog post:

Autotacular Hate Crimes

A week has passed and life has grown increasingly convoluted. Starting with the saga of Bruno.

The Saga of Professor Bruno
Bruno is my 1989 Ford Ranger, as I may have introduced him before. As he is almost antique, this car is doomed to have personality. Originally, his name was just plain Bruno, but with a Master's Degree in being a bitch to drive and a seat cover reminiscent of an old English professor's tweed sweater, he gained an aura usually saved for pipe-smoking old scholars that have nothing better to do than talk of Melville and Shakespeare all day. Hence the addition of Professor. He has a manual transmission (hence having a male name. I'd name it Hedwig if I were superstitious), no AC, just recently the gas gauge started working by divine intervention, he eats the clasps for the seat belts, and only the right speaker works. Now, occasionally, when Bruno liked a song, the right speaker would come in, allowing me to hear the intended harmonies and nuances in the music that would make me squee (yes, squee) with delight.

Well, last Thursday, Bruno decided to get in a fight with this:


What I endearingly call the Anti-Bruno. A black, huge, GMC Sierra with an automatic transmission and a grill decided to commit the Auto Hate Crime of all hate crimes and bitch slap my poor little podunk white, stick-shift Ford on the intersection of my parent's neighborhood and Chastain Rd. Now, this accident could have been avoided had I not failed to yield at a left turn and if the motherfucker has decided to go the actual speed limit. The accident was definitely my fault because, y'know, I failed to yield. Anyway, I make a left turn into the right lane and hear the honk before the crunch. I feel the guy slam into the back of my car, Bruno swerves to the left while Anti-Bruno plows into the passenger side and Bruno swerves to the left again to a halt, looking directly at the Sierra. I dumbfoundly get out of my car and gaze in horror at the damage done to my car.

On a side note, I was going to buy cigarettes before heading home to dress for Jessica's 21st birthday party and was coming home from my parents' house just after starting the process of signing Bruno over to me. And I was listening to Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell." The irony is so rich, it rots my teeth.

Anyway, to cut this long story short, my car is in the auto-hospital and looks like this:



Since then, I have had to use all the money I allotted for my personal gas to pay for the tanks of others. I am grateful that neither me nor the other people were hurt. I had the cutest cop in the history of ever evaluating my accident. The court date is September 23 at the lovely hour of 8:30 in the bloody morning.

So, other than that, I'm alive and well. Waiting for information on any repairs. If the frame is bent, I'm fucked sideways but if not, I think all that needs to be fixed is the wheel/axel. Sure, he looks ugly as sin but if he's salvageable, I will stick a band-aid bumper sticker on his side saying "Ouch."

I guess that's all for entertainment. I bid you good day!

Paradise By Blogger's Dashboard Lights

I made myself a vow that I would not blog until I received and set up my laptop with wireless internet and such. As you can tell, I have either given the vow a fuck that or I have received my laptop in the mail. Those of you choice B selectors, give yourselves a pat on the back.

Actually, in the past week, more than I'd like to say has occurred. I was kicked out of my parent's house a week ago and has to scramble to find a new living arrangement. Thankfully my friend Beth's family has adopted me at least until I am financially stable on my own. My folks are giving me my car yet not their tax information to fill out my FAFSA. I probably will have to go after a private student loan in which they will still have to co-sign and then will result in me getting bitched at furthermore. Hopefully Dylan will intervene somehow if I ask him but I have to pull some weight and strings before I result to his tactics. I need to go up to financial aid and bring a book and wait in the line until I grow a beard but I'll do it.

In other happier news, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Actor's Express tonight for only a dollar (I love being a member of a certain mailing list) because I could do "pay-what-you-can" admission. The show was amazing. What I love about Hedwig is that it is a deep story about self discovery, an empowering tale about the pride in being a woman, and how finding your other half is crucial in everyone's life. The music is beautifully written from hardcore beer dribbling punk rock to bittersweet ballads that bring a tear to your eye. The lyrics are filled to the brim with allusions from Aristophanes in "The Origin of Love" to the mentioning of Lot's wife in "Wicked Little Town." It's correlations of other works and motifs in literature that when set to music for a controversial show such as Hedwig makes me beam with joy and utter interest. I can't express how much I enjoyed the show. The music makes me cry if I'm watching Craig Waldrop in a one piece suit with fishnets and pumps belt it out or if I'm listening to John Cameron Mitchell sing it on my iTunes collection; it is just that moving.

Plus Waldrop had FANTASTIC legs. Wow.

I get paid tomorrow so this slight living in solo squalor thing won't last much longer. I'm not really bad off- I live with wonderful people, I have a car, I have a job, I have a laptop with internet. Life's pretty good I suppose.

Until I write again, adieu!

Leevee Pieces

hAPPY jULY TO ALL.

Maybe I'll get out of that so my post doesn't look like a ransom note. Peachy.

So I've discovered a solution to my lack of energy whilst blogging. I love to blog; it's incredibly therapeutic. I get to write out jokes that I tell people all the time, I get to formulate opinions, and I get to actually express them free of interruption. Thus, writing is an extremely cathartic experience every time I do it. Well, as long as the content differs from what I last wrote. I find before any blog post (except for this one oddly enough), I always write up a rough draft. I write minuscule hieroglyphics on yellow legal pads for an entire page getting everything out. I proofread it to perfection, I add, I subtract, I multiply and divide and pretty soon it's ready for my fingers to type it out and execute the same proofreading regimen. But at that point, I don't want to. I'm so burnt out on that story that it lacks pop or "za-za zoo."

Although, I have said to myself, "You did do a lot of work on this. You should post it on your blog for other people to read!"

Then my eyes roll up to my brain: "Don't wanna. Not gonna."

Then my brain threatens to aneurysm and I drag my obligated self to the computer chair to recreate a snappy blog entry with a witty title that would get Oscar Wilde to give me free absinthe.

But in lieu of my laziness conquering every other possible energy I have, my wonderful father is going to send me a laptop. Albeit, it is a little older than most of the models I've used, I hear tale that it does in fact work. Another thing I plan on doing is uploading more videos and stuff of me because I personally love video blogs and I write songs and love to act like a moron for everyone to watch. I have to give a little purpose to the actor inside of me who won't be able to breathe should I choose to be an English major.

This laptop should arrive in about a week, I'd say. I have to figure out all the wireless aspects, how to use the thing, and slew of foreign terms that come with the world of portable computers. Should be darn exciting and I should be able to blog a lot better when I'm all abreast!

Until then, sit tight and await snazzy changes!

Summer in Suburbia: A Modest Display of Cleavage, Cleavage, Cleavage

With the changes of the weather, the gas prices, the seasons, and The Change itself, I have changed the title of my blog yet again. I can't exactly review performances much if I have not attended many. There are some and they will be reviewed but I will also provide insights on life and such. You know, the entire purpose of a blog.

It is sweltering in K-town and when I shower and step outside, I feel another shower is in order. But it eventually gets tolerable. But that could be that I've lived here for ten years and know what to expect. However, my friendship with Beth has gotten closer because we have a swim in her pool before we both have to go to work.

Today I am visiting my friends who are taking summer classes at Kennesaw. I have this odd feeling of "What time is it? Do I have class? My god, I hope it's canceled. I can't stand that bitch for the rest of the semester. Why does she always come here?" But then I am cheerfully reminded that I, in fact, do not have class, nobody I don't like as damned the circle with their undesirable presence, and I am free to enjoy the company and cigarettes of others.

I went to karaoke last Tuesday for the very first time and found it enjoyable between poorly and drunkenly arranged renditions of Journey, the Backstreet Boys, and the Spice Girls. I did however fall in love with the whitest emo kid who rapped like nobody's business and had all the black people in the audience cheering him on like there was no tomorrow. Also this one old, fat guy cranked out Louis Armstrong and sounded just like him. Beth and I harmonized and only one guy seemed to enjoy it, let us know openly, and resumed quaffing his beer. But I am going back tonight sans Beth because she looks like a chipmunk from wisdom teeth surgery and cannot go with us sadly enough.

Tomorrow I get to see Dylan *girlish squeal*. And probably will hang out with him and Hollis until he decides to say "I've got work in the morning."

Life update: I'm working at Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse off of Barrett Pkwy as the most intelligent hostess there. I may go back to retail if I can't work as a server. I'm headed to Nashville this Friday to see the Tubes play the Wild Horse Saloon (and I pray to God they play "Don't Touch Me There" and "What Do You Want From Life?"). Thursday I am going to Screen on the Green. And I have to work nine hours on Sunday for friggin' Father's Day.

Jam packed week. I'll write next month. I promise.

Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad

Buckets pour from overhead and I forded the parking lot at Target, reminding me of my Oregon Trail days. So it is understood that the weather here is just short of a costa Rican summer.

The past couple of days have been eventful. The past few weeks I have been job hunting and I applied at 22 places (perhaps more, I've forgotten)
. I jumped through some hoops at Carrabba's, applied, came back, was told I passed their personality test but, oh, we're busy- come back tomorrow; came back to find that I hadn;t taken the test, took it and was told I can't be a server but they're looking for hostesses (who get paid $2.13 an hour plus tip share-which could potentially, for want of a better phrase, SUCK ASS) so come back Wednesday to speak to Mike. So I went back yesterday to speak with Mike after getting my hair done and running around the house to find nice clothing that wasn't wrinkled and was there for a total of 15 minutes. 5 of those minutes was speaking with him. Basically he told me if I fit the qualifications, he'll call me next week. Shook hands, grabbed a large handful of peppermints on my way out, and left.

I checked my email when I got home and found that there was the Enchanted April audition at Kudzu Playhouse that I had heard about previously. I knew I had the gas and played the "Should I or Shouldn't I" game until I decided to go and do it anyway. It called for a cold reading and I was already dressed up from my interview so I drove over and walked in. I waited to fill out my form because an older woman auditioning in front of me had the only pen and whilst filling out my audition sheet, she asked me, "What role are you audtioning for?"
"Rose, Lotty, or Costanza, " I replied. Costanza's part is completely in Italian and I could pick it up quockley. Plus one of my friends speaks it fluently.

She makes a comment that basically says, "I can tell by your age you aren't auditioning for the part I am." Snotty, much? She was auditioning for the old widow Mrs. Graves. I told her I played Mrs. Graves in a scene. If I were feeling saucy, I would have told her I have a talent for being cast as old, infertile women. But I didn't want to blow my chances or come of as a bitch.

I met the directer Adriana Warner, who is the snappiest, fiery old woman I've ever met. She has big glasses, is shorter than me, and wore the stock director's hat. She was very sweet and funny. She had me read many parts (mostly Rose and a little of Lady Caroline Bramble) and at around 9:45, we all left and she told us if we were chosen, she'd give us a call between 10 and noon the next day.

So this morning I'm getting ready for an interview with Bath and Body Works at the mall when at about 11:10 I got a phone call from Adriana telling me to come back on Tuesday for call backs! I'm blissfully excited! If I am cast, this will be my first show outside of a school production. I just need to get a script before then. And I get to use an English accent. Which shouldn't be too difficult seeing as I've had nineteen years of Dad chiming into my ear.

I then also received a phone call from Bugaboo Creek asking me if I wanted to come in at 2 for an interview. Seeing as I could, I obliged. I was told when I turned it in that they weren't hiring but they'd keep me on file.

I went to my B&B interview, which was a group interview. Something I was not entirely fond of. I acted cool and collected but I really do prefer to have an interview where it's me and the boss. She said she'd call us by Tuesday. Now that I think about it, I think that a group interview is not the most formal way of handling employees. And some people she asked more questions than others.

I leave and at this point, it is pissing down outside. I drive over to Bugaboo Creek and sit in my car, smoking a cigarette while trying to pass the next half hour. I eventually go in and am greeted by the hostess, who tells me to take a seat and offers me something to drink. I ask for a Coke and she tells me they only have Pepsi products, something I have not heard in a long time (they say they're Canadian. I guess authenticity has to start somewhere). I order a Mountain Dew and sit, humming along with the tunes that come in over the soft-spoken loudspeaker. I sit for a good while until I meet Susan, the assistant manager and my interviewer. I speak with her about my past job experiences and what I'm looking for in the next job. She asked about my availability , which I told her, as of now it is any time but it may change if I get in this show. She then asks her manager to come over and speak with me. He was a little more open ended with his questions. He asked me to tell him about myself and asked me my availability too. Basically a whole bunch of business stuff. He told me they really needed a hostess so come in with a black top, pants, and black shoes on Tuesday to file my paperwork!

So now I am employed and possibly will have a show to work on as well. Things are looking up for me and I am very excited. I hope my good fortuen smiles on everyone else too. It's really rainy but, hey, as Meatloaf said- two out of three ain't bad.

The Trees Are Coming at Midnight

Four in the goddamn morning is a fantastic way to start blogging. So far 2 Cherry Cokes, a Mountain Dew, a Dr. Pepper, and roughly an entire pot of coffee have coursed through my blood stream (or are currently tunneling through my veins) and I am very very awake. Whereas I could have stayed out all night with friends, listened to bad music, and probably somehow ending up in Peducka, Kentucky, I ended the night on a high note and headed home to where the internet could perhaps prove to be more entertaining. Yay for me that it was and gives me an excuse to blog.

Nothing performance wise, yet. I have watched a few movies, though: Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanimo Bay, Full Metal Jacket, and A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Forum.

H&R was hilarious, with racist slander abound and a plenty. Lots of tits and vag, to which I'm not partial to, but I'm sure the Jailbait Trio who probably snuck in and were sitting next to me and Chris enjoyed every minute of it, only to discover they had their first wet dreams that night the next morning.

Full Metal Jacket- one of my favorite Kubrick's so far. Dark humor as well as verbal abuse that would make me piss my uniform were I in the Corp. "I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around." Fucking hysterical. But it was slightly disturbing because I thought that maybe Gomer would come out happy in the end and I was sadly corrected. And the part where the guy has a Polaroid taken of him and the dead Vietnam soldier is a little unsettling. But all in all, the movie was great. Plus Adam Baldwin is in it and I will watch anything Jayne Cobb is in.

Forum was great because of Zero Mostel and his nasty-ass teeth. And Buster Keaton was in it. Who knew?

It;s been an eventful day of me driving Satan to hell and back to be a good Samaritan, bettering my Karma, and driving 2 automatic cars in one day, which, boy howdy, took some getting used to. I think I'll go burn one and go to bed.

Adieu, adieu to you and you and you.

Every Frivolous Whim- Proper or Im

Happy Cinco de Mayo to all you people who run blindly through any excuse to Tequila yourself into a coma.

I have now completed my freshman year in college and it has been a delightful experience. I have made some amazing friends, worked with some frighteningly talented actors, and have gained awareness of all the fine opportunities that my school has to offer. I did not attend any ridiculously crazy keggers with frat boys, I avoided the corn syrup teeth-rotting sweetness of sorority girls, and I spent many nights playing laser tag into the wee hours of the morn. I studied less than I should have and am fully aware that my grades will suffer from that. I may take a leaf out of the Puckett and Phil volumes to participate in plays, KSU Tellers, and keep my grades up by forfeiting any vestige of social life. Of course, I will also have to keep having a job in this perspective if I want to have any kind of money at all.

I did not fully get laid, nor did I wake up next to a stranger fumbling for my clothes and the door at the same time in a silent manor. I did not gain an unbelievable amount of weight. I did dye my hair red with the blood of an ostrich and plan on getting my cartilage pierced and my tree tattoo that says "Never let the weeds get higher than the garden." I think if any quote is appropriate, Mr. Waits is a sure-fire candidate.

I have performed in an amazing show and some pretty sweet projects. Like today in Performance Studies for our final we had to create our own performance art piece and ours was about feminine beauty and the horrors that girls encounter every day with the questions about how they look, dress, act, and the burdens a materialistic society drops on them. I was caked in grotesque make-up and went up to our classmate spectators and asked them if they thought I was pretty while my coy group mates snickered at my expense. All this was intentional to show that it's a pretty catty world amongst the female species.

I had my first relationship, my first kiss, and my first break-up. I had my first shot of Jager. I learned to drive my first car. Hell, I learned to drive a stick period, that needs recognition. I learned that I still enjoy writing and expressing my passionate opinions. I've learned that I get tired very easily and that 4 hours of sleep sounds right at the time but is tragically unhealthy. I've learned that even idiots get to go to college and sadly, KSU seems to be a breeding ground for idiot cultivation.

I've learned a lot and a little and reflection is healthy. I like the learning and the experience. And I will continue to do so in the next few weeks as I enter the cutthroat world of either waitressing or the familiar monotony of retail. To wherever the wind may take me. Hopefully there's a theatre that needs an aspiring actress because I could use a show now.

Hopefully I've inspired one person today. More updates will be made. Sweeney Todd is coming to the Fox in a couple of weeks so a foreshadowed update is already in the works. Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Opening Night of Bald Headed Activist Musician-Slang For Man's Genitalia

Opening night was last night and it was fantastic. We have endured six months of grueling physical rehearsals conducted by Hylan, linguistic perfecting from Dory, and the mastering of motives and aspects of our characters from Dr. Gentile. I have never felt the exillerated in any production. Just to be a part of a project that was over four years in the making, the tweaking, the commaraderie, the new friends I made, the goals I have set for myself, and the overall leviathan of what I have learned during this process is character building and irreplaceble.

And to think that I have only five more shows to do before we sweep away our mandala of whiteness. Its ending is bittersweet because, yes, I will have time to myself to get a job and hang around but I won't be around the best guys ever. I love being the girl in a group full of guys and the only girls in cast were me, Brianna, and Whitney. The guys really make the show what it is and I am so happy to have all of them be a part of my life. I hope to know them better in the future.

Et si le garcon mignon qui est dans l'ensemble avec moi quitte sa copine, je vais etre plus heureuse!

I blanked on a line during dress rehearsal the night before so I was nervous about it but I was perfectly fine and gave Mrs. Hussey the best run I think I've ever done. My towel dropped out of my apron and sat on the rake for a couple of scenes but other than that the production was smooth. That was minor in comparison to the millions of hazardous things that could have happened.

In other events, next Tuesday I will be auditioning for The Glass Menagerie, and sometime next week will also be auditioning for Steel Magnolias, both plays I did in high school. Hopefully I get into one of them. I should also be concentrating on getting a job. I won't say anything for fear I'll jinx myself.

Break my legs for me!

The Leevee Sleeps Tonight: A Review and Lesson in Theatre Etiquette

I guess two weeks is a normal occurrence for a hiatus. I would know, I never say anything until I post a ridiculously wordy entry about everything in my life!

As you may have noticed, I tweaked my blog a bit, pulled some strings, pushed some red buttons. It has been recently that I realized that the majority of my blogposts have had something to do with performance, be it watching or performing myself, and thus I made it a little more specific. I find that everything I do that is blogged has something to do with theatre, which is totally kosher with me.

So, onto the most recent show!

As I have mentioned before, I am the happy partaker in a season pass to the Fox Theatre. This pass is for six shows: The Rat Pack, The Wedding Singer, The Drowsy Chaperone (an absolutely excellent show!), Avenue Q (again- most excellent), The Lion King, and Sweeney Todd (the most anticipated of all).
Now, some of these (the first, second, and fifth), I had predetermined that I would not enjoy them simply because they are not, in my mind, real musicals. In my biased eye, a real musical constitutes:

* An original script specifically arranged for the stage. Not taken from a film and adapted into a stage play.
* An immaculate cast, handpicked from the top musically talented actors from anywhere. As well as specifically trained attune ones.
* Actors that embody characters and really understand who they are and play them effectively. Method actors are, albeit, crazy, but at least they are damn good.

I did not receive any of the other night and am sorry to say that I think I am the only person in the entire world who did not like The Lion King, the musical.

We arrived at the Atlanta Civic Center an hour before showtime and had our tickets scanned. I went to go to the can and have a cigarette before the show. I ask one of the ticket scanners if it was ok for me to pop outside, have a cigarette, and come back. She said if I have my ticket, I should be fine so I thank her and go feed my tumors. I come back through a different door and the guy takes my ticket and scans it. As he's doing this, I politely tell him I already had it scanned and I was coming back in. He tells me I'm not allowed to do that and then tells me the person hadn't scanned my ticket the last time because it registered on his, yadda yadda. Maybe I haphazardly fed him bullshit but I got through and was in a very "fuck you" mood.

Took my seat at the far left side of the theatre decently close to the stage with intersecting aisles in front of me. I saw my OB/GYN, who stopped to say hello to my family. I saw her two weeks ago. Hopefully I can wait the full 50 more weeks before I have to see her again. The lights dim.

The show begins with Rafiki, played by________ (insert name here because I lost my goddamn program), who was absolutely amazing. She had this incredibly engaging, intriguing voice that belted out the famous "Na Sen Goynya" and it shook the house. Then the curtain to the left of us opened and a elephant came out. You can see the actor inside but you pay more attention to the elaborate detail of the costumes of everyone as all the other animals entered from various places in the house. I'm not one for spectacle, but I enjoyed how they staged that because it seemed like someone blew a horn on stage and all the animals came running from different areas.

However, shortly after about the fourth scene, the four seats next to me suddenly were filled with late-comers, who all had their cellphones on! The lady next to me crossed her legs, keeping her phone in the crease so she could text messages like a highschooler.

Rules for going to a production, not matter what it is:

* TURN YOUR GODDAMN CELLPHONE OFF OR I WILL BEAT YOU. Even if it's on silent, that light is a beacon and it disturbs the people around you who paid for the show to enjoy it without some dipshit ruining it for them.
* Arrive on time. Again, why would you pay for something just to get there late? Leave early. Sit awhile. Schmooz. Because you may miss integral parts to the plot and you definitely will disturb people next to you and around you.

I digress.

Any scene with Rafiki was awesome. The rest, however, were difficult for me to sit through. The actors who played Mufasa and Scar were awful. They would basically recite their lines, not pay attention to what they were saying, not pay attention to what the other was saying, actually listen to them, they presupposed emotion. It was all kinds of bad. Jess said I'm too critical because they probably got tired from doing the show day after day, but that doesn't matter! No matter what, you treat every night as if it were opening night. You don't allow yourself to slack off, you have fun with it. I could see the actors' boredom and I shouldn't have been able to see that.

The kid who played young Simba was flat every single song. He also was not a very good actor. Once again, if you think me too critical, there are child prodigies out there or, at least, kids who have had musical training.

As far as the music itself, I was delighted to hear familiar songs and hear Timon sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." All the original songs from the movie are amazing because they're written by Elton John and they have that nostalgic meaning for me. Granted the whole score is written by Elton John and Tim Rice- so my question is: What the hell were you thinking when you ADDED the most meaningless songs ever?! Musicals don't necessarily have meaning but some do and those are the ones I like. These new numbers take away from the story. How else are we going to teach a watered-down version of Shakespeare's immortal tale of Hamlet to new generations of kids? The songs that are added are frivolous (Zazu's "Morning Report," the hyenas' "Chow Down," Simba's"Endless Night") and just reitterate ideas that have already been established. Zazu is going to give a morning report, hyenas are carnivorous, and Simba has to run through the dark to kill his uncle. They didn't add anything to the story.

They made characters more obnoxious, lame fart jokes a-plenty, sometimes the singers couldn't be heard, and there were 10 minute dance solos in the middle of songs.
It was all about spectacle and if you had never seen the movie before, I'd be surprised if you could follow the plot. I just wish they would concentrate on the content of the story because it makes you think. Thinking makes you smarter. Why are people so entertained by shiny things? Do we always have to see things outright or can we just form our own ideas about what went on? I understand it's a kid show and I was a kid when it first came out but there are a lot of themes to The Lion King and they can executed better.

Things I liked: Rafiki, the ensemble cast, the costumes, the amazing raked stage, and the songs that weren't in English. That's it.

And that's me being Simon Cowell and a cruel bugger. I hate bad theatre.

The Hussey Bloggeth

A week hath past since I last bloggeth. I sincerely wish my life weren't so devoured by grueling rehearsals that may or may not be in dire need of my presence, an active social life, and the obligation of using my superior intellect to type last-minute papers for my professors. But my life would not be so damn interesting if I sat and ate Cheetos all day, so for that I am greatful.

I have had a very constructive week, though, I must say. Last Friday I was very pleased to attend the Atlanta Storytelling Festival in "Fucking Decatur" (it is not longer solely Decatur- it is Fucking Decatur because it's 575, 75, 285, exit 40 miles away. That's fuckoff forever) with Chris, who took the Lincoln towncar from the limo company he works for. I felt very posh and was saddened to be sans grey poupon.

I saw my friend Scottie Rowell's performance and it was phenomenal. I don't know much about him personally and so it was great to see him perform this story about him growing up and his relationship with his family. I could empathize and sympathize with him and I came out of the show feeling closer to my friend. I really love how storytelling is like that- making peaceful unions with people on person levels. Seriously, world peace can be acheived through better ways than protests, smoking pot, and recycling.

I also saw a very odd performance that gave performance art a bad name. I consider myself an artistically open actor and am very supportive of new enterprises and experimental works but I did not get it at all. His introduction of a mock Carol Burnett opening really drew away from the performance, and his four minute dance solos that took place to different songs I hear in elevators across America made no sense sequentially. One thing I did like, however, was his prerecorded story and the interpretive dance that went with it. It was like a flowing kibuki theatre tecnique where he would move fluidly and then when he stopped on a beat, it would be a pose representing the word stated in the monologue. That was cool- the rest was crap. I think he was looking for a venue. But- kudos to the guy because it does take guts to pour your soul into something and to have exposed to critics.

I then Saturday night attended Rocky Horror in Norcross, whoring it up with Lisa and Jess. We arrived and were part of a six person audience with the rest of the roughly 14 cast members. For their April Fools edition of Rocky, they had their drag show where "drag queens and drag queens at heart" could compete to win. I race up there and this guy who looks familiar (who we later mutually realized was my partner in the math class I dropped last semester. Last time I see him he's an ASP coordinator at Kennesaw and then I see him in full on drag- who knew?) and we are the only competitors for the competition. He picks me up and spins me around- something everybody in the world does because I'm tiny- and we crack a few jokes. So we have to tell what our drag names are and why we should win. He replies with something that wasn't cheeky enough for me to remember. Naomi, our EmCee, asks:

What is your drag name?
My reply: Patty O'Furniture

Everyone laughs for about 2 minutes and then she says:

I don't think I need to ask now but why should you win?
Because I choose style over substance.

So by a round of applause, we are rated by our audience and I received a resounding wave. I presented myself in my dress and heels and so did he, the real drag queen, and I won. Well, technically we both won because they had two bags of candy. It was fantastically fun. And now that I have Bruno running, I told them that I would love to join cast and would probably do so after Moby Dick was finished.

I guess I have dedicated this post to my adventures in performance so I'll continue on with the theme. Today I discovered by being on the Facebook page for Theatre in the Square, I received 2 complementary tickets to see The Little Dog Laughed on the Alley Stage. I originally wanted to take my mom but she had a scheduling conflict so I decided to ask Miss Kelly Belly Jelly, a good friend of mine, to accompany me on my gratuitous opportunity. She obliged and I am very glad she did because not only is her companionship always appreciated, but I didn't have to see a risque, awkward play where there are naked men fucking on stage with my mother sitting next to me. The play itself was exceptional; the actors were believable and had spot-on cominc timing. It's people like that I aspire to be. We both agreed that we loved it and were also big fans of the free food served at the reception afterwards.

Moby Dick is fishing along swimmingly and curtain goes up April 15. So fill out your taxes and come see me in a fat suit. I expect to see a lot of familiar faces or I will take a herring to your face and don't think for a second that I am kidding. We've worked extrememly hard on this show and I want at least 3 nights to sell out, even if I am not being paid for this. Come support the theatre majors because the money may not directly go to our pockets but to the production department that we live in. Also the set is amazing and you should at least see it with actors on it. I'll step off my soapbox now.

Until next week, adieu!

S for Showstoppa!

Big wheels keep on turning as my life and my time on the computer seem to muddle together into one miniscule congealed blob. I have enough time to have a basic social life but it does not necessarily entail time in front of a screen. For this, I continue to feel the guilt because blogging is something that brings me joy and, regardless of people reading it, it provides closure for me.

I feel this week has been a balance as most of my weeks are. I saw Avenue Q on Tuesday and it was a fantastic show. All the songs I've listened to for the past two years now make even more sense with the addition of puppets and actors. Although, there were a lot of geriatrics in the audience and that made me giggle. I'm sure quite a few old folks are hip but it is still very amusing to see them attending such a racy show. I sincerely thought there would be more twentysomethings.

Rehearsal is coming along very well. I have now tried on my costume twice. I am in a fat suit, so that's part of my Moby Dick advertising: Not only is it a great show but you get to see me in a fat suit!
I will have ginormous tits, hips, backfat, and a bustleesque ass. I told that to fellow castmate Brianna and she asked, "Can I sit on it?" To which I retorted, "It's a bustle, not a saddle."

Hopefully on my next fitting, I will bring my camera and take risqué photos of my costume because it is totally worth posting!

I have a rather eventful day on the morrow. Dentist appointment at 8 in the morning (which I wish was much later but alas), then I pick up Chris, rehearsal for run through, and then I haul Bruno's ass to Decatur for the Atlanta Storytelling Festival so I don't fail my Performance Studies class. I'm pretty psyched about the show because I get to see my friend Scottie perform. I found out, also, it was cheaper to go Friday night because I can work my feminine wiles to tell the box office people that I'm a member of the ATML mailing list and pay $8 instead of the actual $15 because I'm that cool as an actor. I want to go Saturday, though, since my castmates Andrew and Dru are performing and they're really good storytellers. Many of my castmates are part of the KSU Tellers and they'll all be performing at the festival, which makes me even more supportive and inclined to go to all performances. Alas, I am not rich (my parents are) and cannot go back and forth to fucking Decatur for performances. *sigh* I will definitely be auditioning for the KSU Tellers next semester based on everything I've heard about them. It will help out with me writing and getting involved in other genres of theatre.

But I look forward to going because not only do I get to see my friends perform but Chris is going with me so I don't have to drive alone in the dark and to a place I have no knowledge of. That's pretty cool. Plus it's always nice to have a buddy along for these types of things.

I have lots of papers to write and they will all nibble on my ass cheeks if I don't go do them.

À plus!

Church of England, Flight 537

Happy Easter. Happy birthday Rob. And happy belated birthday Walter Kovacs.

I once again have not been as diligent with updating as I promised myself. So in order to gain more readers, I am going to put the ultimate hook line down in bold lettering and I guarantee it is a true story. Ready?

I got to explain what the taint is to my Performance Studies professor.

That is correct. We were reading our poems out loud from the textbook and Brennan, a friend of mine, had chosen to present "Blue Ball Blues" by Jonathan Williams, which goes a little something like this:

O, Mr. Chemist, please let me buy
350 pounds of premium Kentucky KY

cause it's a dry season,
for the reason

Anglo-Saxon sex glands
Are awry…

Arise, arise, and come
to Perineum

("the more you come,
the more you can")

Let not your Sword sleep in your Hand
And we shall smear Petroleum
On England's Groin
& Pleasant Gland!

Karen (Robinson- my professor) analyzes the context of the poem. Just listening to stating with such passion and conviction that the speaker wants to have an orgasm sends me into a torrent of internal giggles. But then she asks what the "Perineum" is. Nobody knows except for me. I tell her the most eloquent, literal, anatomically correct response and she sort of gets it but nobody else gets it. Then I get slightly flustered and say "It's the taint!"

And of course now everyone gets it. Karen's confused and we explain why it's called the taint and she laughs. I love seeing scholarly people dip their toes in the gutter. It makes them seem normal.

And on some additional happy (albeit not as exciting for you) notes, I have tried on my fat suit costume for Moby Dick. I've got extra tits, extra, ass, extra hips, and backfat! I may actually turn into a whale.

Yesterday I went to Rob's for his birthday and laser tag.


It was one awesome day.




/\
Rob is the most pathetic birthday boy I have ever seen.



Digressions:
I also finished Watchmen on Friday morning. It is an awesome comic that I'm going to have to read again. I may reread Hitchhiker's Guide as well for giggles. I don't remember a lot of it.

And I'm toying with a few ideas, the main one being me getting a job that would cater to my ridiculous schedule. I'd like to make some money so I can buy crap and gas to feed Bruno. I may give the waitressing thing a shot.

Adieu until next Sunday I suppose. It seems I update then.

Who Watches The Watchmen?

I once again have that deep remorse for not regularly updating my blog as I promised myself I would. Unfortunately, and I say this as a devout Mac user, even the iMac has problems with some programs. That's why mine has the handle in the back so you can attach a chain and use it as a boat anchor.

Since my last post, the break that was Spring occureth and vanishèd like a belch in the fishbowl I spent an abundance of that time with Chris, Jessica, and Mike playing cards, watching movies, and going to different churches. I went to one in Town Lake that was called Embassy Metro Church and it was in a movie theatre and in the foyer of the theatre, they gave out mints, donuts, and coffee.



It was pretty snazzy and interesting, straight and to the point. I wouldn't go on a regular basis, obviously because I myself and more one for going to Temple but also because sometimes Christian music gets a little on the repetitive, happy side and my music needs to be more diverse and have something earthy to it. But I liked it just the same.


I also learned how to drive Professor Brüno, my 1989 manual transmission white Found-On-Road-Dead/Fix-Or-Repair-Daily pick-up truck with no AC or gas gauge, and shitty speakers. But I now drive him around on my own and it's a little weird now at first because I'm very accustomed to having someone in the car with me. I do rather like the alone time, however, because I can sing as loud as I want to while driving.

Last night I cashed in my rain check to hang out with Willy Mystik (my friend Brandon who is legally changing his name to that). We listened to oodles of Oingo Boingo, I tried gin, and we conversed about life, despair, happiness, and religion outside of Barnes and Noble. He mentioned Watchmen, a comic that he and mutual friends Hollis and Graham both liken to a better Bible, and I have been wanting to buy it but I am poor as the VH1 celebrity has-beens. I also went to that same store the other day and they were out of copies. We walked around the store for a while and he found it and showed it to me, then stated, "I'm going to buy this for you. You have to read it." Obviously, it's incredibly life affirming and eye opening. I just finished the second chapter today and am really enjoying it. I can only hope it gets even better.

As for today, I have driven quite a bit. I paid a visit to my friends at Kell and was literally floored when I saw Addison because he ran to hug me and next thing I knew, we were lying on the carpet. He kept me abreast of all the social drama in Kell drama and I pitched that everyone should come see Moby Dick and me in a fat suit. Mr. Hicks then asked me, "Are you the whale?"

It was good to see everybody and I felt slightly nostalgic but then was unbearably happy to get out of there. Sometimes high school is too much.

I am going out to celebrate my declaration of independence by imbibing Waffle House liquid crack with Lisa later on tonight. I haven't seen her in quite some time and could use some girl time.

I Spy With My Little Eye Something Beginning With R: Regina

To commence the dawning of the break of spring, I went to see Regina Spektor at the Tabernacle with Hannah. Her gay Pagan friend had to flake out on us, so I made a few phone calls and had Prashaanth take the common place of pimp and male chaperone. We got there at about 7 after traffic and parking shenanigans and took our seats along the side of the first balcony.

Only Son (click for his website) opened at about 8:10. He was this lone lanky looking Jewish boy with a fro and nose to match who came out with this acoustic/electric orgasm of a guitar and played a solo act. He had a Perry Farrell esque singing voice with riffs akin to Smashing Pumpkins at times and one song that had a "Bron-Y-Aur" stomp feel to it. In the middle of his set he digressed, asking us if we noticed that he "fired his band [because] they wanted `money' to `feed their families'." He then decided to play with his iPod, which became a character in the act, He was a humble performer who thanked the audience after every song and had a good dry comic delivery. Did I mention how adorable he was?

This face with a yarmulke? I would totally bring him home to my mother and she'd not be surprised in the least. In short- he's grossly entertaining so check him out and make his album sales go up.

Prashannth went out to have a cigarette, came back and told us he'd "never seen such a collection of preteens and emo kids in one place" and I believed every word of it.

Regina came on to roaring applause and did a wonderful a cappella intro and after "Sailor Song" (my favorite), she said "Thanks for coming back!" Rightfully so, seeing as how she postponed the show twice.

Concert went on like this:

• Ain't No Cover (a cappella)
• On the Radio
• Sailor Song
• The Flowers
• Baby Jesus
• Better
• Bobbin' for Apples (favorite song lyrics: "Someone next door is fucking to one of my songs")
• That Time
• Après Moi
• The Wallet
• Small Town Moon
• Music Box
• Human of the Year
• Poor Little Rich Boy
• Time is All Around
• Summer in the City
• Ghost of Corporate Future

Encore:

• Us
  
• Field Below
• Fidelity
• The Hotel Song (which Only Son guest starred on as a beatboxer)

• Samson

All and all a damn good show. I was surprised at how many seats were still available and the lack of dancing that went on. Hannah and I got up to go dance to "That Time" and we were the only people dancing. Regina was very humble as well and had this little speaking voice that sounded so sweet but she would swear like a sailor. During "Poor Little Rich Boy", she drummed with her right hand and played the piano with the left. It was pretty awesome see her multi-task like that. She also messed up during "Music Box" and couldn't remember the lyrics that followed another and said "JC Penny, don't fail me now!" She improvised well, played astoundingly on the pianoe, and wailed her lungs out. I walked out feeling a sense of self-loathing and doubt at how I probably will never play as well as she does. Or cut a record deal. I like, though, that she plays piano and guitar, as do I, and that maybe by the grace of God, I'll be able to play as well as she does someday.

It looked like everyone had a good time. I wanted to find her after the show but it got cold standing out by the bus so we abandoned that idea and headed out.

I'm Excited But Not In Two Different Ways

Yesterday passed well and I was reminded that I can survive anything. Yesterday I worked on two papers I had due today and I hadn't finished but I needed sleep. I ended the night with a cigarette and a conversation with Jess before sleeping like a bloated panda in a field of bamboo. Woke up close to seven, got stuff together, and was in the student center, furiously editing my 9:30-due paper within half an hour. I provided as much extra information as I could and hauled ass to the FLRC (The Foreign Language Resource Center- or how I call it, the Flerk) to type it up, print it out, and haul my second ass to class to turn it in.

After that I went to the circle and was greeted by Graham who jumped out of his chair and said cheerfully, "I've got something for you!"

And handed me a stack of CDs, perfectly packaged in a plastic case in the shiny, delightful stack.

• Astronautalis: The Mighty Ocean and Nine Dark Theaters
• The Beatles: Let It Be, Sgt. Pepper's, Revolver
• Cake: Fashion Nugget
• The Decemberists: Her Majesty
• Foetus: Hole, Deaf
• Grateful Dead: American Beauty
• Man Man: Six Demon Boy
• Modest Mouse: The Lonesome Crowded West, The Moon and Antarctica
• The Mountain Goats: The Sunset Tree
• Neutral Milk Hotel: In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
• Of Montreal: Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies, Hissing Fauna Are You The Destroyer?, Satanic Panic in the Attic
• Psychedelic Furs: Talk Talk Talk
• Silver Jews: American Water
• Sufjan Stevens: Come On and Feel the Illinoise
• Tom Waits: Swordfishtrombones, Blood Money
• T-Rex: The Slider
• Weezer: The Blue Album
• The White Stripes: Icky Thump
• Velvet Underground &Nico~ Mix

I almost couldn't shut my gob.

Went tp the writing center to edit another TPS paper for 12:30. Double spaced it, printed it out, and hauled ass a third time to class. I was the second peron to perform and I NAILED my presentation. I used a chair as a prop and kept my audience engaged without breaking character. I was incredibly pleased with myself.
And on an alternative note relative to performance, I saw a poster for auditions for Spring Awakening on March 8th. I'm thinking I may audition and use Fiona Apple's "Shadowboxer" because that's the only sheet music I have that falls under alternative rock. I sincerely hope to get in because people make national touring companies that way all the time but I do have my realistic doubts. I'd love to audition for something other than a school production, though. Plus it's 11-Tony award winning Spring Awakening. Why the hell not?

This week will be busy but not as busy as last week where I couldn't sit down to think. I have no rehearsal today, have to summarize scenes 14-20 of Paris Je T'aime for class and I really wish we did a skit instead, have a compare/contrast paper on Pygmalion and My Fair Lady due on Thursday. But Thursday night, I may go to karaoke in Stockbridge with Scott, Kayna, and Rob. Then I get to drive the Moonlight Sonata to the Tabernacle for temple with Hannah and Regina! That's going to be an exciting show!

Gaining My Religion: All Jesused Out

It's Sunday night and I feel as if I've abandoned my blog for the sympathetic ears of mankind. I'm such an adulteress.

It has been a rather dense week despite the lack of rehearsals that devour a collective 14 hours of my week. I have made my spiritual journey and have come out enlightened, informed, and more respectful.

I attended Hopewell Baptist Church on Monday with Christian and Jessica because Chris(tian) told me that Jamey Ragle was going to be there, he incorporates stand-up comedy into his sermon, you should come, Lee! Like I said, I did, and really enjoyed it. The congregation at Hopewell was incredibly friendly and informal. I felt welcome as soon as I walked through the door and I really liked that. Ragle was entertaining and I liked what he had to say about virtues in general. Thus, when he said he was going to be doing another set on Wednesday, I told Chris I'd go with him. I like entertainment, I like agreeing with people, I like the camaraderie of my friends, and it's not like I can fuck up in church.

Wednesday, we sit down in the second to last row in the back. It was Denise (Jill's friend), Jill (Chris's ma), Chris, Me, Vivian, Beth, Jessica, and Mike and we took up half a poor excuse for a pew (it's not a pew until it's made of wood and I bash my knee on it). There was a larger crowd than Monday and two rows in front of us there were a handful of bikers (and apparently there's a group of bikers called God's Rolling Thunder who congregate in a bar)! The service begins with lots of songs that are poppy and uplifting. And I love this feeling everyone is getting (except for Vivian who found the service to be awkward but I can understand why she ducked out), the vibe in the room, and how, in general, communities conglomerate together in this communitas in a peaceful manner. Nobody with torches and pitchforks. Everyone smiling, waving, embracing, shaking hands.

Jamey, the traveling evangelist, goes into the pulpit and goes into his schtick. He tells his jokes, makes fun of his wife, and talks about people stepping into stupid.

Now, my view of the Bible (or any holy book, for that matter) is that if you take religion out of it, the stories are all fables. They teach you good values to live by not out of fear of unholy wrath but just the sheer guilt of knowing that you have betrayed your fellow man and you have to live with that. So when we read these passages, I weed out the parts about Jesus and absorb the rest.

The service has gone on for about an hour and Jamey decides to pray for people. If the opportunity for someone to pray for me arises, I say go right ahead. We all pray to the same god essentially and a prayer can't hurt anyone. So I raise my hand, thinking, "Sure! Pray for me! Ain't no harm in it!"

Then he asks us to come pray by him. And I find myself walking up to the pulpit, past hundreds of pairs of eyes watching me as I go to kneel on these steps. I see Mike crying and I see Jamey's tiny eyes and enormous, God-fearing body as he has us bow our heads and recite the words he says.

At first the prayer was fine. It was all, "Thank you this and forgive me that and I'm not worthy" and then he says

"AND I ACCEPT JESUS CHRIST AS MY LORD AND SAVIOR."

Now my recitation at this time had tapered off. Just like with the Pledge of Allegiance, I pay attention to the words that come out of my mouth. Immediately, I felt sick. I rose and saw Chris barreling down the aisle with his arms outstretched and the happiest boyish face I'd ever seen him sport as he bear-hugged me and Beth amidst the resounding applause of the congregation. I whispered to Beth," Tell me why I did that." And she said, "It felt good."

But it didn't. I felt like I had committed mutiny to my beliefs. I can't accept Jesus as my savior because I don't believe in that. If I have a burden, if I fuck up, if anything happens to me, that's fate that I alone must resolve and it should not be placed on someone else's shoulders. God will provide wisdom, signs, and small interventions, but he's not going to just take away my problems. I am responsible for what I do. I think that life is a struggle that once you get past an obstacle you are stronger, wiser, and can take on further challenges. Accepting Christ for me is like a cheat sheet; I just can't do it. I'm happy for people who find faith in Christianity but I can't. I'm supposed to be a good person just not to be an evil one and I don't want to have a get out of jail free card. I want to serve my term, get my parole, precariously finish my probation and be all the wiser for it.

So I go back to my seat with Jill and then went outside for some air. She came looking for me afterwards and I told her that I felt like I betrayed myself because, since I was ten, I have considered myself Jewish.

She says, "You want to go to Temple? I'll take you to Temple."

So Friday, I go with her to Congregation Beth Hallel, a Messianic Jewish Temple. Messianic Jews= Jews for Jesus. But it's the closest to Jew I'm going to get this week so I might as well go!

I absolutely loved it! All the kitchy traditions were part of the service and pretty much, it was a Jewish ceremony; the only difference is that they believe Yeshua (Jesus) was the only one to ascend to God's side. I loved the antics of Rabbi Solomon, I loved the music, I loved the small congregation, I loved the cantor, I loved the funny yarmulkes, I loved it, loved it, loved it. I felt so much more a part of something there. Although, I loved it though, I would like to test-drive some more temples.

I returned to Scott and Kayna's and yesterday, when they came to pick me up for hang outs, Rob and Scott put coffee filters on their heads and blasted Hava Nagilah from the car. Then Rob went, "Oh look! A penny!"
To which I replied, "Don't make me put you all in the goddamn ashtray."
Scott: "Oh yeah, Rob. This is a Volkswagen."

I went to Hopewell again this morning because I ended up sleeping over at Jessica's with Mike and Chris. The same Monday tripod attended 11:00 service. The pastor was less engaging and talked about tithing more than I cared to listen to so I started reading the Bible from Genesis. There are a lot of allusions in literature to the Bible and so I think I may actuall read it from an English language standpoint.

But I have heard enough about Jesus Christ to last me till his birthday. I could be up for a mosque, though.

Pledge of Disobediance

I was originally planning to do a post on the particularly riveting religious escapades of this evening but Matt got me so worked up politically that I can't resist regurgitating my plight.

I do not say the pledge of allegiance. Ever. I stopped when I was a sophomore in high school and haven't since. I did it then to be a non-conformist and have only recently discovered now why I never picked it up again.

I cannot blindly recite an oath and swear before God stating that I am forever loyal to the country of my origin. Not only do I believe that separation of Church and state is a must (in this case, however, for the rhythm of the oath, I would not omit "Under God"), but paying attention to the words that come out of your mouth is a practice everyone in the world should follow. And I know that I do not fully appreciate the country I live in in order to truthfully say those words. It's like communion in the Catholic church- taking communion to a non-Catholic means drinking bad wine and chewing a cardboard wafer to represent ingesting the body of Christ. To a Catholic, you are committing cannibalism each time you do it, actually ingesting the body of Jesus into your body. As a proud American, I would hope to feel more uplifted and have more of a sense of pride by stating the pledge. But until I can truly see how good I have it in my home country, I cannot pledge my allegiance.

I want to live in a country that I want my children to grow up to be grateful for. I want to live in a country that is renowned for making peaceable decisions that benefit their constituency and not just their politicians. I want to truly live in the land of the free and the home of the brave. And until we can eliminate and neuter the idiots who breed these days, I can't be happy to be an American. I can't be happy in a country where people cannot have the right to choose whether or not they can marry someone of the same sex or have the ability to have an abortion.

I can't be happy in a country where they do not separate the dumb kids from the smart kids and use the smart ones to their advantage and full potential, instead of pursuing the futile thought that these dumbass paste-eating anklebiters may actually have a shot at a well-paying job in the future. I hate to sound like a judgmental bitch but that No- Child-Left- Behind shit is useless and is an insult to honors students. It waters down the intelligence people have to offer and sets standards that are educationally appalling. Pay for the smart kids to go to college; don't have tests that idiots can pass. Follow Britain's example and raise children to know history based on dates. Teach rhetoric. Do not ask "what is the shape of the tip of a pencil?" on a national standardized test. No wonder people in Europe make fun of our accents and everything we do…

I want to live in a country where I can do what I want in my own house. It used to be somewhat legal to smoke crack in your house and the government couldn't do a damn thing about it. Then some bitch complained and it was all taken away. It is my property and I want to be able to do what I want on the turf I pay to live on. Legalize marijuana if it is proven nothing bad has come of it besides the loss of the occasional brain cell. They tax cigarettes out the ass; why not do the same with pot? There is no harm in it and it saves a lot of kids getting into trouble on the black market and buying a bag of Chronic that's laced with God only knows what. If it's government regulated, it can't be that bad and it contributes to the economy in a beneficial manner.

I would be happy if my country could just adhere to my "Live and Let Live" policy. Take advantage of things that can be used to your advantage. That's why they are there and that is their purpose. I will be happy to be the next Che Guavara (albeit not an advocate for Communism) and take the role of being a revolutionary. I believe in the freedoms that we have in the constitution and I do not like how day by day one of them suddenly goes off the map like Jimmy Hoffa. And I may actually start fighting for my freedoms one of these days.

One Angry Dwarf and 200 Hail Marys for Jews

I am very glad I am Jewish. Even if I am not officially or by blood relation. The Jews are sensible- their service takes place in the evening. Albeit you have to be that kid who celebrates the Sabbath on a Friday instead of gaming with your buddies but at least you don't have a Messiah. Those meshugganah kids who have a Messiah have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn on the day of rest to go worship their vicarious god. Sure sounds damn practical.

Places of worship used to make me uncomfortable. I was so obnoxiously agnostic to where I had a vision of God but did not agree with every Christian who wanted my body present as a follower. I thought Jesus was a man with some really great ideas but found the whole heaven-sent thing to be horseshit. Hence me determining myself Jewish- I agree with the concept of there being a God, no messiah just yet, and that the ten commandments should be followed. But the unsettling feeling of people trying to convert me repelled me from ever setting foot in a place of worship and brought forth another aspect of the Jews I love- they don't go out and arbitrarily try to add followers to a quota. You have to want to convert on your own accord.

Now I have never experienced full frontal Catholicism first hand (same for Judaism, if you want to know the truth of it, but I'm working on a remedy for that), so I chose for my ritual project for Karen's performance studies class that I would attend Mass. I went with Shannon and her kids, the family I babysit for and complain about endlessly, and had an unforgettable experience.

I was very surprised to feel welcome in this Church. The building itself seemed open its doors and say, "Feel free to explore but don't break anything." My goal was to reproduce my experience on paper and in performance while being as descriptive and unbiased as possible. I sat in the back, took notes on note cards, looked around and followed other peoples' actions. Generally being as conspicuous as possible and sticking out like a weed in a rosebush.

I knew I wasn't supposed to take communion and the lady who was distributing the wafers was cordial to me after I briefly informed her I was not Catholic. With a smile she said, "Oh, let me give you a blessing" and then she pulled my ear close to her face and whispered, "In the body of Christ, may Jesus Christ keep you on this day." Now, I may not believe in that, but I always thought that if someone else does and they are not pushy about it, then what hurt can a prayer or a blessing do? It's a good thing in their beliefs and generally, all religions teach you to be a good person so it's not like it's specifically telling you something bad.

Once out of there, I helped Shannon wrangle her children together. I was on my way to get a free cup of coffee when this woman Deedee stopped me. She told me she was a friend of Shannon's and with this holier-than-thou tone of voice, she reprimanded me by saying, "You know it's really not cool to let kids crawl all over the seats like that."

Okay. I had to take charge of Brody because the Sunday school program did a last minute cancellation. Actually getting Shannon's children to listen to anyone is like nailing jello to a tree and actually enforcing discipline upon someone else's children is not my place. I did the best I could to coax him off the bench but then figured if he wasn't bothering anyone directly, it shouldn't be a problem. If anything, God would forgive me. Plus, it's not like I lived almost 20 years of my life without the common knowledge of keeping dirty shoes off clean furniture. I have a mother, y'know.

I gave her a half-assed apology and then she asks me how I know Shannon. I tell her she lives down the street from me and I watch her children. She asks me if I am Catholic and I decide not to lie. Immediately, sirens go off in her head and once again I feel ostracized and banished. I mean I have brown hair and brown eyes- deduce what potential religions I could be affiliated with. And then her eyes widen and she suppresses a small gasp when she asks me "You didn't take communion, did you?" and all her worry is released with an "Oh good" when I tell her no.

What would happen, however, if a non-Catholic took communion? I will never know.

So apart from the pretentious encounter at the end of the service, it was rather interesting. The priest was from Ireland and made his sermon entertaining with some dryly delivered quips. The songs were dreary but Catholic guilt differs from that of the Jews on a plain of understanding I fathom not. I may return next Sunday for refreshers but I fear the 5 feet, 150 pounds of Deedee telling me how to raise other peoples' children again.

I Hate This Basement; It's Like Truth Serum

The past few days have been rather filling. Yesterday I had to go to school for a performance of mine and one to watch, both hours apart from eachother. Rachel DeJulio and I were cast as nurse and patient for a small rehearsed-improv sketch about ethics in nursing. With me type-cast as patient, we came up with a "good idea, bad idea" skit where one nurse would be very brash, ornery, short-tempered, and would not give a damn about the patient. Nurse number
2 would be more empathetic to the patient and complete the tasks needed as well as efficiently give the patient what they request. We performed for roughly 400 people and didn't break a sweat.

Then I eventually went home and took a nap and afterwards returned to school to go see Fuddy Meers. I adored the show and loved the selection of music they used (Regina Spektor was playing when I walked in and sat down and they played Tegan and Sara, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and lots of other stuff as well). There is a matinee tomorrow and if you can get a stand-by ticket since the show is sold out, I highly recommend it. I really want to buy a copy of the play to have on hand for myself.

Today I stayed at home. I cleaned my bathroom when I had every intention of cleaning my room. I cleaned the downstairs bathroom as well. So now I did all those nice things that make guests think we have a clean house when they should know better than to assume.
Tomorrow should be an interesting day for me. I'm going to church, something I haven';t done in a long time. It's not that I actually have had an epiphany; I have a project. And this project requires that I do to some place of religious ceremony that I do not affiliate myself with. Thus, going to temple with the other yentas is not an option although I wish it were. Then on Monday, hopefully, I am going to church again only to a Baptist one with a preacher who apparently works comedy into his sermons and he's hilarious. I think humor is a great way to make your constituency grow so I will be delighted to see that.

I should go to bed though. God will pass judgement on me at 8 in the ruddy morning.

Oui, Et Ta Tenue Est Completement Ridicule!

I attended all my classes today, only one third of them being against my will and wouldn't you know it, it's my French class. Forgive me for sounding like a rude, judgmental bitch even if I am but my teacher really lacks panache. She is as sweet as she can be but Noah, my last professor, had spunk, color, pizzazz, and used colorful language. He has visible emotions, he showed interest- he wrote his dissertation on French war films. The man is a genius who likes to sit with me, other students of his, and my friends, have a smoke, chat, and come to our New Years Party. I think this is unbelievably awesome. Dr. Hoyt, however, can smile until the cows come home but it gives me no motivation to work in her class. I need someone who visibly seems smarter than me to intimidate me into a job well done. Like Karen Robinson does to me on a daily basis…

Rehearsal was abnormally short today. I was there for about 45 minutes until they told the girls to leave. I have more rehearsal tomorrow and then I can go see Fuddy Meers.

So after my short run, I went over to Case's with Bethany and we talked in the car completely in French and cursed at drivers. Wiping your ass with silk has never been so much fun.

Whence I returned to my home, I found my mother downstairs in the basement going through old clothes. There were some clothes she got me when I was younger that I hated and never wore. I tried them on now, mind you 8 or 9 years later, and love them. Some of the clothes I wore back then don't fit me now because they're too big. In comparison to what I look like now, I was a fat kid. But now I have clothes from when I was like 11 that I still fit into. I also got a pair of my mom's old jeans that were a size six 20-25 years ago. They fit perfectly but sizes have changed a lot (increasing). Today's size 4 was a lot bigger than 1983's size 4.

I'm done for the night. Need my sleep. Night night.

How Sick Can Dogs Get?

I had a very eventful day yesterday. I woke up at about 6, wanting to die. I felt like I swallowed insulation like cotton candy and was repeatedly coughing it up. But I decided to go to school anyway because I felt better than I had the day before, believe it or not.

So I get to school and my friend Anikah (She's Hungarian. I'd love to know how to spell her name because I love saying it. It has a guttural noise.) told me about how the health clinic here would give you a free doctor's appointment and if you need a prescription, they can give it to you for cheap. I'm tickled by this idea and I decide to walk down to the clinic to do this.

So I walk to the Wellness Center, where I would think the clinic would be nearby. It's not. It's all the way across campus, down the back hill, across the street, behind the dorms. I take a small hike to building 52, open the door to find a basket of flavored condoms (which doesn't make sense because they're only supposed to be used for ORAL sex not INTERCOURSE; sure, it's better than nothing, but sex ed could be better) and little boxes filled with free pain medication. I take six in case I lose one and step up to the counter, make my appointment and sit in the waiting room. I saw all these posters that basically said, "THIS INFECTION COULD BE LURKING IN YOUR VADGE. YOU DON'T KNOW AND EVEN IF IT ISN'T, YOU SHOULD TELL YOUR PARTNER OR ANYONE YOU MAY SLEEP WITH. TAKE SOME FLAVORED CONDOMS."

I eventually go in for my appointment and the nurse I got, she was a little short and haughty. Very Christina Yang. Eventually she developed a sense of humor or at least felt comfortable. The nurse shadowing her was nice.

Although I couldn't remember the last time I menstruated so they looked at me and were like, "Could you be pregnant? Why didn't you take some flavored condoms?" I just lied and said sometime in January, which I think was right but as long as I'm not having sex, I don't think I need to keep track of it. I hate it anyway and the cramps that accompany it.

Nurse swabs my throat with a long green cutip and is extra surprised that I didn't gag (I should have told her I'm very experienced with flavored condoms-lol; truth is, I have next to nothing of a gag reflex) and she puts the swab onto a plastic doohickey and has me wait for ten minutes to see if I have strep throat. She comes back looks at it, does a double take and says, "Huh! You actually do have strep. I didn't think you'd have it. Have some penicillin." I look at the strep test and it reminds me of a pregnancy test, making me think, "That little plus-sign is so unholy."

So I got to miss class (but shh-don't tell my parents). And I skipped out on most of rehearsal even though I tried to function but ended up being pathetic. And once I got home, I was in a 2 hour coma in my bed, happy as hell.

Now, when I cough, it's still productive but it doesn't hurt. I'm very congested but I'd rather be congested than extremely dry. So I'm getting better and I'm getting happier.

They Flow and Chart and Quink and Dink

My illness has moved straight for my lungs now. I can't cough through my throat but, with applied effort, I can get an immortal chest erupting cough. Can you say bad ass?

I have taken a Delsym and have 2 Theraflu strips and a large handfull of coughdrops to last me the day. I will probably get home late and will hopefully see Fuddy Meers tonight. I do have my doubts but you never know.

I almost got to stay home today, which I think is absolutely ridiculous. Mom was debating on letting me stay home. I'm in fucking college. It's not like people know I'm purposefully not attending class as soon as you drop me off on campus. Honestly, she doesn't know what I could do. I just find it funny (funny-sad) that she actually thinks she can still have a say-so as to whether I take off a sick day. And I have only missed my French class once (it was a food day. Of all the goddamn days to skip class, I sure know how to pick winners) and the rest of my classes, I have not missed a day. I'm on good terms with all my professors. But I have rehearsal today and for the rest of this long grift.

Update at 7:40 because the screen was still up

I'm staying home. I have no gag reflex and some of these coughs sound like I may hurl. It's dead attractive. I get all the boys down on their knees with palm fronds this way.

Yay. I get to email my professors, watch tv, study, be a shitty Nerevarine, and piss my mother off! I should totally get some brownie points.

I may update later. Or not.

Confucius Say Six Year Old Boy Should Not Down Three Mountain Dew

Today was most excellent fun, first sarcastically and then in all seriousness.

My NyQuil didn't work last night so I woke up at 4:15 in the morning, hacking up organs that weren't necessary (appendix, spleen) and took the heating pad and Life of Brian downstairs to watch while I would sit in my semi-conscious stupor. I watched it halfway, then watched the news with Mom, Hannah Montana with Marceline, then watched View from the Top, which was cute and funny in a farcical type way and then I watched about half of Frankie and Johnny, starring the immortally gorgeous Michelle Pfieffer (who will never age) and the equally handsome Al Pacino (my mother thinks it unsettling that I like men over forty).

Then I got dressed up and drugged out so I could go outside after the quarantined 48 hours I spent in the living room to go to Meng Liuxi's house for the Chinese New Year Party.

I was mistaken to be Case's wife twice. That was grossly entertaining. But I met a nice, cute boy there who was visibly smart, social, geeky enough for me, and had a good sense of humor. Oy, if only he were Jewish...but I digress. I ate lots of food, shmoozed alot, coughed a lot, blew my nose a lot, and smoked a little to find that my body could take it.

We played Mah Jong and I am a beast at that game. My only problem is that I can't count in Chinese so the character numbers were a tad confusing but I eventually memorized some of them, which helped me win about 4-5 games. I want my own set now. It's much better than rummy.

Hopefully tomorrow will be eventful as well. I hope Audrey actually calls me, arranges transportation, and can get that photoshoot done. Maybe I can get some free headshots out of this! Or at least cheaper ones.

A tout alors!

I Have No Organs and Sound Like Tom Waits

I have no more organs. I coughed them all up.
I am the sickest sod in the history of ever and would like to be put into a coma right now.
Thankfully, I just had some NyQuil so my wish should be granted in about 20 minutes.

My phlegm is all kinds of yellow. That could be from the sickness or the Chinese food I ate.
My entire head is a compressed inflatable ball that's being sat on so my eyes feel like they're about to be launched through their sockets and my head will be slowly removed via melonscoop.
My body has been metaphorically pelted by large stones varying in sizes.
My hands have a small rash which is just a tad bit bothersome.
My nose could not be lubricated any more than it is already.

It's a bitch to smoke but having a cold does allow me to be bitchy on places I would want to be bitchy regardless of my health. There are times when Jess acts inexplicably rude when she's on the phone with me (interrupting me to yell at the dogs, talk to her roommate at length) and today when I called her and she answered, she told me to hold on and continued to argue with Rachel, leaving me to hear about their apartment woes. I hung up the phone and took a small nap.

NyQuil's kicking in. Time to have something soothing for my throat and a big sleep.

And It's a Thursday and It's Only 9:00am

I have a leaf-blower in my throat. And every time I cough, it makes the trees twitch in fear. And it makes my eyes water.

I have made it through December and January without being too sick and I guess February's catching up all thanks to Nathan. If that bastard had stayed home and not snotted all over the trash cans and anywhere in the vicinity of where I breathe, I'd still be healthy right now. I hope the theraflu strip I took will help.

I'm stuck in the Wilson building this morning because it has chairs that cater to short people who like to have their feet touch the floor when they type. Plus they have the brand new Macs that have the paper-thin key board which makes my iMac want to commit seppuku more than usual. 

I read the school newspaper earlier and found that I can participate in a sleep study for a possible $400 which I could totally use. I can also participate in a memory study and be compensated but I'm not entirely how much but as long as I don't grow a third ear on my stomach, I'm fine with it.

I'm going to go bum cigarettes off of friends.

Stuck Between Barack and a Hard Face

I woke up today at 6:38 after a night of Internet videos and a game of strip Guitar Hero, feeling like I pulled the plug on my own mental drain. I got downstairs (after fumbling around my room furiously to get all my books and clothes for the day) at 7:17, two minutes past when I'm supposed to leave with Gary. He told me I lucked out because he was drinking another cup of coffee. So I ran around to get my lunch and a soda and we leave.

I get to school at 7:45, bum a Basic off a fellow future cancer patient and get started on an informal essay on the American class system (we don't really have one; it's very open to change and almost indefinable) that is due for my English class. It's difficult to start but I get it done, only to realize I could easily pan it out to six pages if I tie in Barbara Ehrenreich's cerulean liberal bias, Marxism, the Indian caste system, and my affair with Charles Darwin (I'll post that essay later). I hang out and smoked until 10:45 to head off to class.

Only to find out that my classmates were sitting outside the door and no one bothered to look at the "CLASS CANCELLED" sign. So I told everyone to leave.

That was exciting because none of my classes had ever been cancelled before. So I went back to the circle. Scott and I make the hajj to Gateway Newstand and buy cigarettes. But something catches both our eyes. There was something that was condomesque but not quite a condom…

It was a vibrating cockring.

So we leave in a fit of chuckles and chortles, Scott telling me how he should buy it and give it to Nathan. Then I say," No, lemme do it. I'll sit in his lap and give it to him."

An evil smile illuminates Scott's face as his left foot swings behind him and we walk back and smack the money down on the table to make our infamous purchase.

We trek back to the circle as I get into character as my alter-libido ego Slutbanwalla. We reach the circle and there is practically everyone we know or at least familiar with. And there's Nathan with his feet propped up on another chair. So I walk over with the bag in tow, perch really close on his lap and say, "Nathan, I have a present for you!" He smiles and chuckles, only to do a hilarious double-take that sends us into more uproarious laughter.

Hollis ended up taking it, made a quick trip to the bathroom to put it on, and returned to show us he broke it.

I also got a free dogtag in the student center.

I got the tree because it looks very similar to the kind of tree I want as a tattoo. It was either that, the Grateful Dead emblem, or the Darwin fish (which I would have signed the fake name "Baba O'Reilly" to get it but I didn't).

So at 3:25 I head to rehearsal only to find out it's cancelled for today and the rest of the week. Groovy. I didn't have to be at school at all today.

But I did manage to make it home in time to go vote in the primaries. I put democrat on my little form thing and, for me, it's either Hillary or Barack. And the Hildabeast's icey cold lesbian deathstare about scare the pants off of me, I'm stuck with Obama and I'm fine with that. I hope that if he wins the presidency, he does a good job and gets rid of No-Child-Kicked-In-The-Behind. That'll be a good day.

And now I feel like I've accomplished more than ever when, in actuality, all I've done is feel more patriotic. A tout a l'heure!