Drum roll, please...

St. John's College, here I come!

So much for a shutout.

Reed College has wait-listed me. Hmph. A schoolmate of mine from '07 got into Reed after being wait-listed, so there's still hope.

Mrs. Warren's Profession needs sturdier ivy. Badly.

As I was saying...

So. I'm half of the deck crew for the Shotgun Players' production of Mrs. Warren's Profession. It doesn't pay me a cent, but I get some insight into the professional world, I get to work with Omnipotent and Lantern, and it gives me something to do. We opened tonight after two nights of previews. It's been doing quite well. I embarrased myself tonight during the Act 1 --> Act 2 transition. *push push* "Why won't you ROTATE!?" *push* "If I take this any farther I'll crash it into the wall. Not good." *peripheral vision* "Oh, my partner was still putting the chair away." *facepalm* I've been getting home around midnight on a regular basis, which hopefully won't cause me too much grief once spring break is over.

On the note of spring break, I enjoyed my Hamlet interim quite a lot. Vince was also in it, which didn't surprise me at all, what with his being the most dedicated (and dare I say best) actor at our school. A couple nights ago I memorized "to be or not to be" for kicks.

Time to go.

Blasted foliage!

Mrs. Warren's Profession has been taking over my life and my sleep schedule. More on that tomorrow...er, later today. *YAWN*

Nostalgia

Oh, I'd love it when the moon was bright, you know, shining on the rug. God, the size of the roses in that rug! Still were those roses in your mom's and my bedroom when we sold the house. You older ones must remember when we had those roses in every room. How big would you say those roses were? A yard wide? At least a yard wide, yellow, red, and blue roses in every room of the house. You know how she got that rug? Do you remember the RKO Casino on Woodward? When they closed it down there was a tag sale and Lucille bought all the rugging. She intended to just cut a little piece out for our bedroom, but they delivered the whole rug from the whole theater, over a thousand yards. The parish got some and the synagogue got some, and even the Nicholsons next door had those roses in their living room, still do--those rugs were made to be walked on! I never said it, but I loved having those big flowers all over our floors. We even had a piece in the kitchen under the sink. Loved it when the moon came through the windows at night because it made the roses change to white, bright white and dark white, and it reminded me of something--I can't explain--like a poem. My house was a poem and we'd sleep every night on top of giant white roses, and I'd lay back and sip my tea and feel the moon takin' care of us, and I'd listen to the breathing of my kids any my wife, all that breath going in and out, and I'd open the windows to let in some of that cool blue air, and I'd imagine it going into your lungs, into your bloodstreams--the air of God, the air of the universe, sneakin' into our house on Dartmouth drive and--takin' care of us. So glad I couldn't see the future them nights. Glad I was able to have hop, glad I couldn't imagine this cold place. I couldn't foresee anything to hurt us.

--Pop, Reindeer Soup, end of Act I

Reindeer Soup wasn't my first play, or my favorite play, or the play where I bonded the most with the cast, or the play where I felt I did the best job. So why do I miss it so much?

Would you like fries--I mean shoes--with that?

It never ceases to amaze me how expensive formal wear can be.

I swear I am not a cold-hearted bastard!

Though you may have recieved that impression had you sat in on my Modern Western Thought class today.

What I said: During a discussion on happiness, when presented with a choice between burgers and love I said I would take burgers.

Why I am not a cold-hearted bastard: I regarded the burgers not solely as burgers but as a representation of food in general, and before answering I asked Zeus if choosing one meant foregoing the other entirely. He said yes. My reasoning at this point: If I choose love, I will be much happier minute for minute, but I will also starve to death pretty soon. No more happiness after that. Therefore I chose food, not as a repository of happiness in and of itself, but as an extension to my lifespan that I may acquire happiness over a much longer duration.

Still, I cannot deny that it sounded pretty bad.