Rage, blow!

I just learned that I will be taking Shakespeare (Shaxper, Shagsbeard, whichever you prefer) next year. Yes!

I also saw V for Vendetta for the first time. I quite liked it.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!

Casting was announced today. I am the first half of King Lear (Ridiculously Cute is the second half). Woot! This is going to be the the toughest role I've ever had, and hopefully I will rise to the occasion. If only I'd gotten the half with Cordelia's death, but oh well. Can't complain. Most certainly can't complain.

Impulse got Edgar, Mysterious got Edmund, Strident got Kent (never doubted that for a second), Closet Goof got France, Fireball got Reagan, Man got Oswald, and Penguin got Old Man and another bit part on account of his having been in Hawaii for the last four days.

Just realized that Lear is going to be portrayed by a guy with braces. *shiver*

Everything came to meet us and Susannah after camp. Several of us then went to Nation's for munchies, such as burgers, cheesecake, and a nearly Lovecraftian chocolate-coconut pie that nobody seemed to want. We talked about our lives, how to insult nearly every nationality in the world (Penguin's lexicon of hate is impressive), good movies and bad movies, how creepy Mormons are, who loses and who wins, who's in, who's out...ahem.

No worries?

We approach the end of the first week of Shakespeare Camp. Auditions were today, and now I'm unreasonably worried.

Omnipotent said that I have a photographic memory. T says that he sees me more than his family. Memorization and commitment are all well and good, but you need something to hang them on. Most of the theater compliments I get are in one of those two veins; what if they really are the main cards I have to play? That isn't good.

After I finished the "stand up for bastards" monologue, Omnipotent said, "Okay. Good." Does she mean, "good," or, "good, but not great." The competition for Edmund seems to be high, but Lear (split into three parts) not so much. That may be enough to shift me into Lear. Yes, I did put Lear as my second choice, but primarily because it would be a challenge. I would more enjoy playing one of the brothers.

Some of this probably stems from being cast as Tubal and Portia's servant last year.

Just get over it, Peter. She'll cast you tomorrow.

Mind games

Last night's dream was very odd; I don't think I've had one like it before. I couldn't call it anything but a nightmare, but there were no scary entities, hazards, or situations. It was just me in a mirrored-but-otherwise-plain room. It wasn't even isolation that made the nightmare. Rather, I seemed to be playing mind games with myself, imagining or pretending something was out of joint, seizing upon it, and squeezing every last drop of fear out of it. Almost as if I was willing myself to become frightened.

Second. Best. Comic. EVAR.

See the Links section for another great webcomic, Order of the Stick. It's primarily gamer humor, but it still has something for those who don't speak d20.

Past phone confusion

I sought the high school directory. I found my elementary school directory. I wasn't even in elementary school anymore when we moved to this house. I will not attempt to make head or tail. Now I resume my search.

More DV

--Day 10. Yesterday evening we climbed to the top of Ubehebe Peak and read the letters left there by groups past (and by the groups that had come by just a day or two ago). None were addressed to me, but I left a few. It was that event which finally grought home to me that this isn't just another backpacking trip. Now I feel like writing a poem, but break is almost over...We've stopped for lunch just before we cross the Saline Valley. It's pretty windy right now, and we just got a few seconds of drizzle. From the look of things, more is on the way. By the way, my right knee has momentarily dislocated itself twice on this trip. It doesn't slow me down and isn't as painful as a full dislocation, but that it has happened more than once on this trip isn't a good sign, so I asked N to wrap my knee for support. I is really gusting now, and the rain is coming back...So much for rain. Lunch is over, and almost everyone is napping righ now. I think the plan is to wait out the hottest part of the day before we resume hiking. Earlier today we had a CPR lesson. I remembered a fair amount from the health course we all took as freshmen. Something i just remembered: yesterday S said that I look different, older. Either it's a thinner face from weight loss (I hope) or it's the result of not shaving for approximately two weeks.

DV

Two notes before I start.

1. Eating with post-oral-surgery jaws is REALLY annoying!

2. I got my subject SAT scores. 760-770 across the board! Yahoo!

That said...

--Day 0. Here we are: loaded up on the bus and ready to leave, More people bid me farewell than I expected, but none of my closer friends showed up. The magnitude of what we are about to begin still has not hit me,

--Day 1. That was a long, rough bus ride. At least I got some sleep at the second stop just now. I dreamed that I had gone to Ultimate Frisbee for PE, but for whatever reason we were wrestling on the field. Nikhil was a better wrestler than I, but I used brute force to beat ATL. In the dream I had real trouble straightening my legs, which almost definitely had something to do with my sleeping position. Now we are on the last leg of the ride.

--Day 2. We just finished lunch: pitas, tuna, and jack cheese. Fortunately, we've hiked far enough to find shade in the canyon. The backpack seems so much heavier with the dromedary (water sack). I'm getting used to the weight, and the worst part now is putting the pack on or taking it off. Looking at my watch I can see that auditions are about to start for non-AWE would-be thespians. Good luck to all of them. Other people are talking, writing letters, and maybe writing in their own journals. I hate using a pen. I've got a pencil, but my backpack seems to have eaten it. This would be a good time to write some poems for Creative Writing...that's one.

--Day 3. I had a large nosebleed this morning, so now my bandana and shirt are really bloody. I'd better make up a good story fo when I get back. Today feels like it will be the hottest yet, but with 20-odd days to go that's not saying much...P said I look like I just came back from a war. That's understandable: I'm wearing all khaki except for my boots, I've got a bandana tied around my head, and, as stated previously, I am heavily bloodstained. We've hiked a fir distance (it's lunchtime now), but we still have a few miles to got before we make camp. Right now everyone's resting. We are at a pretty high elevation, as indicated by the joshua trees growing around us.

--Day 4. We got up early (well before dawn) to reach camp by morning. Thee's another group still here, but we're keeping to ourselves. My brain has been playing songs through my head for the last few days, cycling between The Producers, Chicago, and Tam's version of "Hush, Little Baby." Right now we are surrounded by trees. Not joshua trees, but actual, leafy, "what Death Valley?" trees...Close call. I lost my journal for a while, but K found it. People are now fantasizing abut food (masochists) and talking about writing letters. I'll probably write one once we hit resupply. N and K2 are about to send us on a mini-solo. Hopefully will be interesting.

--Day 4, Mini-solo. An hour and ten minutes? Cake. The afternoon siesta lasted three hours (and I did not sleep) earlier today, so I hardly consider this preparation for the three-day solo beginning around day 16. The flies may prove a trial, however. A thought: the phrase, "simple pleasures for simple minds" is used primarily in a derogatory manner, but it can just as easily be an expression of envy. It all it took to make you laugh was a man on TV falling off a ladder, then would life no be all the more enjoyable? Then again, that appears to be the spirit behind mos cartoons. Oh, to be a kid again, when, by blowing himself up, Wile E. Coyote could send me into hysterics at a moment's notice! But that is something I have probably lost forever. On the other hand, even the crudest or most lowbrow joke may elicit a giggle, and even as I laugh I am disgusted with myself. I can't believe it. I'm actually crying as I write. Do I truly miss having a simple mind so badly? It's not as if, were I to lose my mind, I would miss it. Just ask a Delta or Epsilon. Ask Charlie Gordon. Ask a kindergartener. Do they curse themselves for their ignorance? No! At the same time, if someone offered me the opportinuty to become a (blissful) moron, I could never accept. I could never willingly do that to myself, even if history were to be rewritten so that I had been a moron from the start, because part o meknows that I would be doing myself an immense disservice. I think that to do such a thing would be cowardly. I think that Calvin of "Calvin and Hobbes" said it best: "I've got to stop thinking while I'm ahead." ...Ugh. Looking back on what I wrote now I sound so...the proper adjective fails me. I need to get my mind onto a new subject. At this time there are 35 minutes left in the mini-solo. I am not at all ashamed that I shed tears while writing that entry. Rather, I welcome it. Perhaps now I will be able to push myelf to new emotional lengths as an actor. Not that crying will be particularly useful in America Abridged. Assuming I even get cast. I'm 95% sure I will (or have, since the cast list should be posted by now), but there's still the chance that T changes his mind or that someone absolutely blows him away and bumps me off the cast. I can't gt complacent. Complacency is bad in so many fields, and acting is one of them. If I start taking myself for granted, then acting quality will go downhill. [TANGENT: N and I just had the first of three one-on-one talks. Everything was hunky-dory, but I liked the paralleling fly battle. One of the first htings I mentioned was they annoyance of las moscas, as we talked I eventually excalated to slapping my head with my notebook to keep them away, and as he prepared o leave I finally nailed one with my hand. By the way, when someone says how much I am appreciated to be part of the group in a situation like this, I can't help but wonder how much it is a "form compliment." Does that make me too cynical? END TANGENT] On the other hand, audition quality likewise deteriorates, so that problem presents and solves itself fairly quickly. Better not to have it at all, of course. Hmm. Two full pages of writing? Not bad at all. Just imagine what I'l accomplish when the real solo rolls around!

--Day 5. Waiting for breakfast. The weather is good, the papaya is bad (no tuna), and I bet I am really beginning to stink. Today I have to give a first-aid lecture on strains, sprains, fracture, and dislocations. Boy, do I know about the latter...The Good: We've reached camp. The Bad: I've got Barney stuck in my head. The Ugly: The mother of all nosebleeds this afternoon turned my old shirt (I'm wearing a new one) into "somehing out of a horror movie."bNow I ought to study more for that injury lecture.

--Day 6. Writing from the top of a mountain (steep walk!) The view back into Death Valley is strongly reminiscent of the long shot of Mos Eisley spaceport. Except for where the straps ride my shoulders, I can barely feel the weight of me pack anymore. I hope our next water refill is a good one: the water we collected at Cottonwood Springs is GROSS. If you're lucky it will only be dirty; if you're unlucky, you might get a root or two in your bottle. Good thing we heavily iodize it. My nose as stopped bleeding (knock on wood), although I picked up a few scratches to compensate and my knees have some fluid buildup. I remain unsunburned. I've had to tighten my pants once or twice, so I guess I've lost a few pounds. Yay. Most of us were talknig about girls, boys, and other things last night, and some people seem to think I have a girlfriend. Next time the subject comes around I'll clear things up...All taken care of.

--Day 7. I went a little crazy this morning. For whatever reason, my normal hiking pace was unusually fast today, and when I had to stop and wait for everybody to catch up, I was mentally in pain. I even took other people's droms to weigh myself down. Also, I now have a neck sunburn. Finally, my to (the ingrown one) has a mysterious white growth by the nail, and it is no feeling more tender than ever. Oh, yes: we stil lhave four or five miles to walk, and I can now smell myself (cue implosion of nose). All in all, it has not been a good day. Wait, I forgot something else: I have been stabbed by a joshua tree five times today, four times on the same tree. At least the rest of the trail is downhill.

--Day 8. Resupply was this morning. I had time to get off a couple of letters, one to the Venetians and one to my parents as per request. We (the group) have been playing a game where we try to guess who would be what kind of superhero as written down on cards a couple of days ago. My chosen ability was telekinesis. I then had to spend some time explaining the difference between telekinesis, telepathy, and teleportation. Come on, people! Later today we'll be diong some rock climbing. P2 and the logisticians (logis for short) gave us a lesson just before lunch. At the moment we are camped by a wide, incredibly flat (by which I mean, "2 inches of elevation change over a span of a couple of miles, not counting the Grandstand) plain called the Racetrack. The way the mud dries, the whole thing appears to be tiled. It's pretty amazing.

--Day 9. This is turning out to be a very eventful day. first off, it was J's sixteenth birthday today. On a les fortunate note, we lost two people today. E had to take today off in order to cae for his knee, and M had to leave the course (for good?) because of some personal issues. They will be missed.

I need to leave now to see Richard III. Impulse gave it a good review, so hopes are high.

*ding*

Are we up and running again, blog?

Oh, goody! I see we are. *claps hands*

For the past ten-ish day my parents and I have been in London for general tourism purposes. I will start by saying that our government could take the money they currently spend on meaningless homeland security are-you-color-blind? threat levels and put it into the airlines. British Airways definitely has the right idea! Head cushions, meals that one might actually find at a restaurant (still small, but what can you do?), and an actual movie menu. I caught up on a couple more recent movies, such as Pan's Labyrinth and Pursuit of Happyness. The latter jerked no tears. I also saw The Man Who Would Be King, which I enjoyed.

We managed to squeeze a fair few stage shows in there, seeing Othello at the recreated Globe, which was quite cool, The Phantom of the Opera (amazing), The Lion King (good), Les Miserables (very good), and the musical version of The Lord of the Rings.

LotR, to be frank, underwhelmed me. The music mainly consisted of New-Age-ballad songs and pseudo-Celtic wailing. Nothing too awful to listen to, but stil not very memorable. The stage consisted of a series of independently rotating concentric rings which also split into a radial sections that could raise and lower. And did raise and lower. A lot. I think the director had a lot of fun with that stage. One aspect that rather threw us was that the actors had been dressed up to resemble Elijah Wood et al as much as possible, but they sounded entirely different.

Considering the limitations of a live performance, I thought the special effects were quite impressive, with the exceptions of the Balrog (whose paper-mache appearance was very disappointing) and the Nazgul. The Nazgul I'll forgive somewhat, but even splitting uhe costume into rider and gorse rather than a single cloak for both would have improved. As fo the balrog, leading up to its appearance Gandalf delivered his lines while facing up and out amid a volcanic lighting and whirling smoke. That looked quite good, and the director should have left it at that.

Gollum stole the show. Great acting on his part, and the contortions though which he put himself would have made Andy Serkis proud. Example: Act II opened with the stage covered by a (retractible) wall of tangled vines. Muttering "to himself," Gollum came crawling down the wall head first. When Gollum came out for the cutrain call my dad actually whooped. I've never hear him do that for a curtain call before.

Les Miz was as fantastic as ever except for Javert. The actor had a wonderful voice, but (I'll assume this is the director's fault) he barely used it for singing. Most of his delivery consisted of, "pause, rapidly deliver several words in a pattern vaguely resembling the melody, repeat." Furthermore, he showed very little reaction to anything. Still, a wonderful show overall.

This being England, we of course had to dine at a pub or two, where I discovered that I do actually like onions if they are pickled. Other than that I strongly dislike the "pizza vegetables:" onions, mushrooms, black olives, and bell peppers. Okay, so mushrooms are fungi. I strongly dislike the "pizza non-animal eukarya." How about that?

Additionally this being England, we had to see much pageantry. We gave the Changing of the Guard a miss, but we did see the Ceremony of the Keys (our guide's sense of humor alone was worth the price of admission), and the Trooping of the Color happened to land on the weekend we were there, so we managed to obtain tickets. Quite the dress code: men were recommended to wear tails! In my case they had to settle for slacks and a blazer.

We spent most of our time in London at a small hotel, but the last couple of nights were spent at the house of a friend of my mother, a very nice lady indeed. The four of us (myself my parents, and the friend) spent our last day at a raptor center, observing, learning about, and handling various birds of preay, ranging from kites to turkey vultures to owls. Our guides were very helpful.

But I got back from London on the 19th, so what has occupied me since then? The removal of my wisdom teeth, which has caused my face to look not unlike that of Vito Corleone. This included my first experience with nitrous oxide, which did not go as I expected. I remained entirely unaffected (or at least it felt that way) fo a good several minutes which I spent talking with the doctors, then..heh heh...ah, here we go. Whee...Hm. Gone again. A few more minutes, then another wave of laughing gas, during which anaethesia was applied. *slice schlurkt stitch* Apparently while I was in the recovery room the doctor informed my mom that I was "a happy drunk," to which I replied, "I'm not drunk! I'm stoned!" I have no memory of this, but it sounds like something I'd say. The first couple of hours at home were highly frustrating: I was drooling like crazy--which I couldn't even feel, thanks to lingering painkiller--and a gold star goes to anyone who could have deciphered my pitiful attempts at speech. Fortunately, the wasted/incapacitated phase has long worn off. I still can't open my jaw fully, however, and I need to periodically have a salt water rinse.

Oh, yes: I got my grades today. Fifth semester in a row I made the Dean's List, so no complaints there. Now I just need to worry about how I did on the SAT subject tests.

I promise I'll start on my Death Vally journal tomorrow.

What's going on?

When I open my blog it won't display any posts past May: I have to dig into the "Edit Posts" function to see them. What gives?

Death Valley: Poetry

WARNING: Extreme levels of desert-induced morbidity ahead!

I wrote this on our first fully day of hiking.

Fall asleep by a cliff and wake up dead
When a too-loose rock tumbles down on your head.
On bile, on blood, or on worse you might gag
When a rattlesnake bites you in your sleeping bag.
Forget the routine and a foot you will lose
When you don't shake that scorpion out of your shoes.
You'll know you're in danger of dying of thirst
When your head feels as though it is going to burst.
Collapse, burn, or just go insane
When the heat bakes its way right through to your brain.
Paralysis stems from your poor, broken back
When your legs give out and you're crushed by you pack.
You think you're saves, but life grinds to a halt
When that water you find has far too much salt.
A surprise twist ends your last living day
When a flash flood sweeps in and sweeps you away.
A lightning storm hits and you watch for a flash
When--too late!--you body is blasted to ash.
You'll run for the road, whispered prayers on your breath
When you see why it's known as the valley of Death.

This poem started out about a series of nosebleeds and mutated into what it is now.

Rivers of blood, blood all around
Blood on my shoes and pooling on the ground
Blood from the mouth and blood from the eyes
A stench that attracts many thousands of flies
Blood on my pants and blood on my shirt
Stains that glisten with each renewed spurt
Pouring until it obscures an trace
Of expression upon the agonized face
Blood from the chest until I scream, "Why
Does this boy bleed so much when I can't make him die?"

Thinking of Sweet Charity on top of a mountain...

There's gotta be some land tamer than this
There's gotta be some path better to take
And when I find me some kind of path I can take
I'm gonna get up
I'm gonna get out
I'm gonna get up, get out, and take it

On top of Ubehebe peak...

On the peak
What we seek
Tarnished metal box
Holding years
Of smiles and tears
Fumbling with the locks
Open wide
And inside
Papers to the brim
Sorting through
Planning to
Read, peruse, or skim
Others shout
Pull some out
With their names addressed
None for me
Though I be
Happy for the rest
Write I will
Leave until
I mingle with the past
On this day
I am on A.
W. E. at last

Around day 13 or 14 I got to thinking about Strident/Tam's version of, "Hush, Little Baby." Verses in a similar vein popped into my head.

Hush little baby, hold my hand
Don't worry about the nightmare land

Hush little baby, let me dry
The tears from your one remaining eye

Hush little baby, listen well
Just try to forget this brand new hell

Hush little baby, try to bear
You fate for nobody's going to care

Hush little baby, take your rest
Before a knife lands in your breast

Hush little baby, just the same
Even though they'll cast you into flame

Hush little baby, save your breath
Crying won't delay your painful death

Hush little baby, don't ask why
This will be your final lullaby

This poem was based on The Pillowman. I never got the fifth couplet to work out as well as I hoped. Oh, well.

My brother, you know best of all just why I'm not so bright:
for seven years your loving parents tortured me each night.
At times the line 'twixt real and false can slip beyond my ken,
So why are you surprised I made the little apple men?
It took so long to add the hidden razor blades she ate.
My dedication can you not at least appreciate?
And what about the little boy whose foot I chopped in two?
You'd ask the same if even the Pied Piper came for you.
The little Jesus took so long, but it was worth the sweat
To see your words come true at last: I'm ever in their debt.
I'm honoring your stories in the only way I can:
They are the single reason I refused the Pillowman.
If you had never written them be sure that I'd be dead.
I owe my life to all these bloody harvests from your head.
So that I've explained, Katurian, do you see why
I'm not to blame for children that your stories caused to die?

Let me talk to you about life

Preliminary schedules fo next year were handed out on Friday. I was quite pleased with mine: every class was one of my first choices! Huzzah! I didn't get the Shakespeare seminar, but a bit of schedule shuffling might and me the class yet at the expense of a second-choice math class. I'm also two thirds of the way through finals, or halfway if you consider that I didn't have any real finals on Friday. Our Spanish teacher decided that the AP exam had been final enough and let us off the hook, and the Drama "final" consisted of course evaluation and a circle of appreciation. Today I had my creative writing final, which consisted of a three-minute presentation of my final portfolio. I decided to include an essay I wrote about the Venetian cast party, some poems (mostly sonnets), my short story, and my five-page play. After that was my Modern Chinese History final: a debate regarding the future of Tibet. I represented the People's Republic. Nothing ended up on the proposal that we liked, so we refused to sign and nothing was accomplished. Just like in real life.

I saw PotC: At World's End yesterday. It was better than Dead Man's Chest, but the original is still the best. I think that Captain Jack Sparrow is at his most entertaining when he is in control of the situation, and throughout the sequels he is rarely--if ever--in control.

On Wednesday I have my bio and calculus finals, Thursay is the last day of school, and I leave for London on Friday.

After seeing a few more clips of possible musicals for next year (Jesus Chris Superstar: I fail to comprehend how the same person could arrange both that and Phantom of the Opera), I now hope that we pick Little Shop of Horrors. The dentist role looks extremely fun. I will need to (as T requested) get some voice lessons, however: there is a large difference between capable of singing and good at singing. I am the former.

Yearbooks were also distributed. It definitely says something about me that, excluding my mug shot, every picture of me appeared under Reindeer Soup or Sweet Charity. One Reindeer Soup picture in particular is so unflattering it's hilarious; I can barely even recognize myself!

I do not want to put it off any longer: I am blogging my Death Valley journal, starting now!