Putting the Wig Back On My Head

For some reason, all I have wanted to watch for a few weeks are really campy movies. I am totally in the mood to watch Hedwig and the Angry Inch again...and I saw The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert for the first time last night. When I think of everything that I need to do this week, it starts to make me panic. Not that it is truly insurmountable, but I do have a lot to do:

-Frozen analysis
-Spirit of the Orient rewrite
-Write my capstone
-Write my capstone proposal
-Set up my TMM book
-Do research for my other capstone
-Write my other capstone

I've finished Just After Sunset. I enjoyed it, and I still say that Stephen King is a much better short story author than he is a novelist. The stories just flow. But, then again, I like his later stuff much better than his earlier stuff.

Now, I'm trucking through Blue Like Jazz. I know, it's like two years too late to be current, but it's interesting. I didn't realize it was a compedium of Christian whatnots, but we'll see if it gets me jump-started thinking about my faith. Maybe. Probably not. I still like being happy.

Christmas

This Christmas has been brought to America by nihilism.

To put it in short:

--I have shopped for three people. I know what I am getting two more of them. Everyone else is still a mystery.
--My family did not get a tree this year. My mother is depressed about this. I don't care about symbols, so we still don't have a tree.
--There's a lot of passive-aggression in the air.
--I'm sick of being home.

I guess I really didn't want to write this post...I need to be in an elsewhere.

My Life, The Spin-Off

With K'Fain graduating on Saturday, I am the only main character left in the television series that has been my life. Chris had moved away, demoting himself from a main character to a recurring role that was mostly seen on holiday and weekend shows. Kate left in the middle of last season, leaving me and K'Fain to carry the show all on our own. Thus, when only one character is left to carry on, with only occasional special guest appearances by the previous cast, that makes a spin-off. I hope that it turns out well. It's a new stage.

I'm Mack Freeman, former college wit, now AmeriCorps member and hopeful playwright. The world has gotten so very old.

A Story Worth Telling

So, I'm going to start telling stories, posting the stories from my life sometimes. They'll drop pseudonyms as needed. But, I want to start writing them and putting them out there.

Submitted for the approval of the Memoir Society, I call this story "Nothing But Yams."

It had been a while since Krystin and I had hung out. She had been dealing with personal trouble (to the tune of relationships and all that jazz) and I had been running the sound boards for Shorter College's Dance Concert (imaginatively titled "Light in Motion"). So, we hadn't had a chance to hang out in forever. But, we were taking time and getting back together. And it just so happened that we were playing Magic.

For those of you who weren't nerds in middle school and have thus grown up to productive lives with beautiful spouses, Magic: The Gathering is a trading card game with the conceit that you and your opponent are wizards standing at opposite ends of a battleground. You summon creatures, cast spells and enchantments, and draw power from the land, trying to slay your opponent. Suffice it to say, this game is not sexy. At all. And I hadn't played it in years. My parents had burned my green and black deck in the backyard barbeque, using the pages of a V.C. Andrews novel as kindling. The devil was in these cards and they were not pleased.

But, Krystin and I have an awkward friend. He really enjoys hanging out with Krystin, but he's so awkward that they can't simply hang out; they have to have something to do. So, Krystin came up with the idea of having him teach her how to play Magic so that they could do something instead of attempting to maintain a really awkward conversation.

I digress. Krystin and I were playing on my coffee table, blowing through game after game while we talked to my roommate Nick and his boyfriend William. The theatre department potluck had concluded a few hours before, and we had just been shooting the shit for a while, talking about a little of this and a little of that, but mostly keeping things witty and light. We were talking about how things had gone that semester and how busy everyone had been.

"We haven't hung out in ages." Krystin said.

"Yeah, I know. But you had stuff and I had my English Oral Exam, and it just wasn't a good time." I responded.

William speared another piece of turkey and said "How'd that go, by the way? I never got a chance to ask?"

"It went fine. I mean, I had to read Heart of Darkness and they didn't ask me a single question about it, so that kind of sucked."

Nick got up and opened the window and said, "I've heard that book is awful. Nothing but yams." The conversation hit a brick wall. Krystin and I glanced across the table at each other, mentally trying to figure out what Nick meant by his comment. Finally, I said, "What?"

He looked at me. "My friend Kristi, she hated it when she read it. She just looked at me one day when she was reading it and said 'This book is about nothing but yams. That's all they talk about yams. Africa and yams. Yams, yams, yams."

"There are no yams in Heart of Darkness." Krystin and William nodded. "I mean, if there are, they aren't really a big deal."

"Are you sure? What's that book about?"

"A boat trip up the Congo River."

"Oh, well what book was she talking about?" We didn't know. We tried Googling it, but we couldn't find anything that made any sense. Someone theorized that it might have been Cry! They Beloved Country, but none of us had ever read it. I later read on Wikipedia that yams are a major symbol in Achebe's Things Fall Apart. I loved that book, but I haven't read it in years, so I had no idea. But, from that point on, we started using the phrase "nothing but yams" to describe something that was bad. "The Feast of Caroles is nothing but yams."

And truth be told, Heart of Darkness is nothing but yams.

Collegiate Experiences

There are nights when college really feels like college. Last night, playing video games, having a drink to Pearl Harbor's b'day (Pearl Harbor being both a man and an event), and discussing life, love, and family with Anna...that's college.

I didn't do a whole lot today. I feel like I've frozen some people out of my life lately because I simply can't deal with them right now. I'm not sure if they blame me or if they even notice. I'm not sure that I care, regardless.

I'm going to be doing a coincidental theatre version of Frozen in January. My cast will be Hannah Jacobs (Agnetha), Charlie Wright (Ralph), and Kathy Newman (Nancy). They've all agreed to go on with the show and with my new concept of "Coincidental Theatre." Because there have been a large number of problems with the second stage, student run productions of AHA, I have decided to do something more in line with my ideals. I will reserve a room on campus for a private function, and I will show up there. And if some of my friends show up, that'd be cool. We'd just hang out. And if they showed up with scripts, then maybe we'd work on a show. And if that happened a few times, wouldn't that be a coincidence? And if a bunch of our friends showed up a few weeks later and we did a show for them, wouldn't that just blow your mind? And if they tried to stop the show, I could honestly respond, "What show? I'm just hanging out with my friends. Is hanging out with my friends now against the rules?"

Oh, there are some hilarious videos on Prop 8 on funnyordie.com. Check my favorite out here.

Not Perfect

So, all I have to say is: I'm not perfect. I know that I act like it a lot of the time, but I'm not. And I'm sick of feeling awful because I'm not sure exactly what I'm supposed to feel bad about or how bad I'm supposed to feel.

I'm Back

Sorry for the ten day hiatus, it has been a relative shit storm around Shorter Theatre for the moment. Here's basically how life is going:

-APO Induction-We had a good time, in spite of the fact that is was way too formal for a Theatre ceremony at Shorter. We're low-key people; so, we posed on a pedestal to match our personality while they read our achievements. Oh, and I'm the President, which reminds me that I have got to have an officer's meeting tomorrow.

-English Capstone-Passed with flying colors. Reportedly, the words "graduate-level" were used to describe my performance. Yes, you can imagine me nonchalantly blowing on my fingers if you want. I completely fucked up the "Prufrock" question (sorry Kate), but I more than made up for it with my Oedipus Rex and Othelle responses.

-Love's Call-Amazing performance last Monday night. My mother was unable to come, but it was a remarkable night regardless. My cast was amazing, Davis stole the show as the Nurse (apparently, she thrives on an audience), and I simply couldn't have been prouder. That happened six days ago. It feels like an eon.

-Millie auditions-Lord, save me. Auditions Tuesday, Callbacks were Wednesday, and the cast list finally went up Saturday afternoon. In the middle of all this, I have been caught in a shitstorm of controversy that I won't go into here. But, suffice it to say, multiple people have lost my trust for this process and I will proceed warily. The show is double-cast, and I'm refraining from an opinion until I see how it works out. It is certainly...different.

-Justin and Asha's Senior Show-Really good performance. I'm proud of both of them. Justin's dad grabbed me and yelled at me because I was the house manager. Then he apologized with a zero-distance of personal bubble. Twice. Which was all fine, except that I really like my personal bubble.

-Personal Life-I haven't seen any of my friends for any length of time in days. K'Fain is busy this weekend, and I have been too 90-to-nothing to call. I should call Kate ASAP to fill her in on stuff. I spent all of yesterday in bed watching movies on Netflix. At dinner, I stumbled into the living room to watch movies in there. I love having the apartment to myself.

I hope this week turns out better.

Sometimes, I'm only in the mood for sad songs.
My friends come through with great news, and I feel like I'm only going through the motions of happy. I don't want to do that.
Something is wrong with me. I know, this is a lot more personal than I usually get. I feel like something must be wrong with me. Enormously wrong. I feel like a complete failure. I feel like I can't stand beside a single decision.
I feel very human.
I don't have time to feel bad, to feel sad, to not be at my peak.
Maybe I'm sad because I'm tired.
Maybe I'm tired because I'm sad.

Once again, I'm confessing in riddles. Here's something I know, though: sometimes hugs wear down all of your barriers that you've built for yourself. And sometimes, that's a very bad thing.

Manifesto

A Pledge to Shorter Theatre

To the greatest people I will ever work with and the biggest assholes I'll ever know. You are simply the kindest and the most hypocritical bunch of glorious bastards in the world. I love you dearly.

I will stab you in the back. I will talk about you when you are not around. I will wish your greatest fears into reality. I will smile at you when I don't believe it. I will wait on you sometimes and sometimes merely tolerate your presnece next to me in the cafeteria. I will be your best friend.

I will delight in your successes. I will commiserate with your failures. I will tell you the truth if you wish to hear it. I will lie to you if you wish to hear it. I will support you in whatever you do because you are a fantastic artist. I will encourage you to blaze your own trail.

I will call an excellent show. I will be in all black. I will make off-color remarks on headset. I will cuss you out if you miss your cues. I will apologize. I will recognize that I do so very little in comparison to the great work that's being done.

I will laugh at you when you say you are tired. I will bitch at you when you say you can do no more. I will motivate you to go get your classwork done. I will understand when you skip to take a nap.

I will listen to anything you ever need to say to me. I will give you advice and only be slightly miffed when you don't take it. I will advise you on monologues to use, how to audition, and how to get things done in this place. I will talk to you.

I will shoot the shit with you in the cafeteria. You will know that, so long as I am there, you have a place to sit and someone to talk to. No matter how good my book is or how much homework I have to do, I will not abandon you to yourself, because we are a family. Families eat their meals together. We will laugh and ask after each other's days and give hugs and scare each other and play games and sometimes, sadly, we will even sing.

I will see you in class. I will whisper answers to you during the middle of discussions. I will occasionally have to ask you what happened because I only got to Act II, Scene 3. I will give you honest critique and I will try to not be a coward. I expect that you will do the same to me.

I will drink with you when times are hard. I will drink you when time are celebratory. I will more than happily let you sleep on my couch. I will listen to your problems. I will provide a place for you to escape when things get awkward.

I will love you, and I will hate you.

An Explanation

This is my relationship to the Shorter Theatre Department. I don't know what else to say except that it's all true, and that I honestly pledge to do all of the above. You can count on it. I'm sure I'll come back to this list again and again to mark it up.

Be safe, and may we all be blessed.

Apologies

So, writing is going to be spotty until next Monday (watch me say that and write more than I ever have). Anywho, basically, my life is crazy until then. I've got Dance Concert, my show, APO induction, and my English Capstone all in the next five days. Plus, I have to pee. So, stay tuned for updates, and I love you all.

Confession

I feel like it's cheating when I write to my friends instead of talking to them on the phone or in person. When I write down difficult things, not because I can't say them, but because it's simply easier. I don't mean things like arguments or passive-aggressive notes or breaking up with someone, but just telling them all the deep shit that's going on in my life.

And I worry, all the time, that I'm a well. My friend, K'Fain, came up with this method of classifying people into the following categories based on bodies of manmade water:

-Kiddie pools-not very deep, not very wide, but fun to splash in every once in a while
-Wading pools-can talk about some semi-deep issues (politics, gossip, etc.) and hang out together.
-Pool-Some depth, some shallow, a decent mix of a friendship.
-Olympic-sized pool-people who are varied. They are very deep and very wide, showing a broad range of knowledge and information. They expose almost everything. While they sometimes hang out in the fun, shallower area, there is a lot of depth and takes a lot of effort to stay afloat.
-Wells-Not very wide, but incredibly deep. They keep taking and falling and showing how much depth they have, sucking out all the fun and lightness in a relationship. You can't play in a well, but you can become trapped in the tunnel.

Quick Update

So, today's just going to be a quick update on my life.

-After much consternation that the portal was down and that my resume kept doing screwy things, I have finally started applying to AmeriCorps programs. Cross your fingers and wish me luck. Hopefully, I'll be one of the Denver, CO staff of the NCCC program.

-My friends are in better places. No one is breaking up right now, and all the other women are leaving their lives. It's strange how parallels come up like that.

-I've got to start hardcore studying for my capstone in English. The goal for tonight: Finish Rape of the Locke, Sir Gawain, and start reading Midsummer. McFry showed us the rubric last night, so I know that how I'm studying is how I should be going about it. I'd just like to take one more opportunity to say how much I hate Spatan for literally not teaching me a single thing about the first half of English literature. I'm hoping to not get ass-raped on that portion of the test.

-I'm really tired all the time and my back hurts. I think I most be sleeping poorly.

-I started writing a new play last night. It's going to be a one-act with two male characters, loosely based thematically on an experience that I had in the seventh grade. I'll probably talk more about it then, but this play is stretching the religious bones in my body.

That's all I've got to report.

Election 2008

I just want to warn everybody that this post is going to be a bit long. This is important to me, and it's important enough to me to want to share with my close friends who read this blog. I'm also going to use real names in this post...so, sorry and let me know if you'd like your name edited out.

Yesterday was the last day America had to vote for the 44th President of the United States. Most of my friends had either driven home early (Hannah Jacobs) or they mailed in absentee ballots (myself, Nick Mason, Greige Lott). I had been watching the news off-and-on all day, and even though the polls had been saying for weeks that Obama was a clear favorite, I was still nervous. I left for improv with the count being something like McCain 73, Obama 199.

We played games for an hour. Only half the troupe was there, but I think that was for the best. We did a lot of good warm-ups. And as we were walking out, my roommate Trey looked up from his phone. "We have a new president." My hyper-critical mind snapped to the correction "president-elect" and someone in the background asked who it was, but I didn't need to. I knew. Barack Obama, the senator from Illinois, had won the election.

And I walked outside. And Hannah called it monumental. And Greige yelled to the people yelling across the front circle. And I yelled with him. And we celebrated.

We walked, arm in arm, back to my apartment to watch the news and toast the new President. We had to wait on Kate to break out the champagne, so Greige and I toasted a shot and sat back to watch the punditry. It wasn't until then that I really looked at the map:

-Obama was at 297. He had won the election without Florida being called. I can't remember an election in recent years where Florida wasn't pivotal to the eventual outcome. But he could have lost it.

-Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Colorado, and New Mexico had all easily gone to him. The only bastions of the Republican Party were the places that couldn't expect to lose: The Midwest, the Deep South (though I'm sad GA turned out to be less close than people had imagined).

Then, we watched Senator McCain's concession speech. Say what you will about him, the man is gracious in times of trial and the speech was beautiful, simple, and conciliatory. I believe him when he says that he will still work to better America and looks forward to working with President-Elect Obama. And I could make catty comments about the way Palin and Cindy McCain were dressed (Yellow probably wasn't the best choice for last night, Mrs. McCain), but that would belittle what happened. I felt embarrassed for the senator when his supporters booed Obama. He's a good American. That used to not be a compliment in my world, but now it is. He's a strong man who will continue to do great things for this country.

Kate got home and we were about to move to the kitchen for toasts when President-Elect Obama began speaking. Some pundits I've read today are calling it, at best, an okay speech. Okay:

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states.
[...]
It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep.
[...]
This is our time, to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth, that, out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope. And where we are met with cynicism and doubts and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.

I can't really speak for anyone else, but I was moved. I have not been an Obama-phile nor do I become touched very easily, but I believe. And we got up and poured toasts. Trey almost didn't come into the kitchen, but we invited him over. He didn't vote, but this is everybody's future, not just the people who helped decide it. And Hannah started and toasted to tomorrow and Greige to being proud to be an American and I toasted to a change we didn't think we 'd see for a long time. And ending those toasts, I clinked glasses with Trey, Hannah, Kate, Greige, J'Sprad, and Danny.

For some reason, I started tearing up. Greige looked pretty torn up, too. He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. And we started crying into each other, almost sobbing. I don't know why. It just felt right. And I hugged Hannah.

We went outside so people could smoke, and Greige kissed Hannah and me. And I'm glad he did. It seemed like something that should happen...I'd wanted to kiss someone and celebrate...and I'm glad it was with someone that I didn't have to regret it. A few moments later, we heard cheering coming from in front of another building, so we walked over there, barefoot, to see what was going on.

It was another group of people out celebrating the election. They were playing a song about Obama on repeat, setting off fireworks, and just generally celebrating. None of us knew each other, but as soon as we saw each other, hugs and handshakes were exchanged. And we stood around, no one really talking, but everyone basking in the moment.

I turned to Hannah. "You know, in a lot of ways, I'm glad that I'm here rather than anywhere else in the world." "Why?" "Because it makes me happy to know that it's important, even here. Of course it's important in Chicago, but it's also meaningful in Rome, Georgia."

Eventually, we drifted apart from one another and walked back home. I made some food and went to bed, obsessively checking the new Senate breakdown. The diehard Democrat in me was praying for the magical sixty (non-Lieberman sixty being even better).

I know that seems kind of skeleton and not really a big deal, but so many things were said last night that marks this as a turning point. These quotes are from everyone.

-Obama is the first African-American president
-"I never have to live on the street again."
-"For the first time, I feel proud to be an American."
-"This is a monumental occasion. This is huge."
-"I was voting, and someone asked if it was my first time. When I said yes, the woman behind me said that they should film me because this was such an important time and she was so happy that I could participate."
-"I believe in America."
-"It happened. It actually happened."
-"I keep waiting for something to happen and for someone to snatch this away from me."

It strikes me as one of the greatest failings of my educational career that none of my professors cancelled their planned lecture to talk about the election this morning. Instead, it was business as usual. And that simply isn't true--today is not business as usual. Next to 9/11, this is the most important moment of the past decade. And sure, a lot of us saw it coming, but that doesn't make it any less huge.

And I'm tired of staying quiet today just because some people really don't want to hear about it. And there's a guy, I don't know his name, that sits in front of me in World Lit I. He's a religion major at my Southern Baptist school and he may be one of the best Christians I know. "I may not like who got elected President, but we're told to pray for our leaders. And if God is displeased...well, that's what got Nero killed."

So, here we are. And I can't wait to see where we'll go.

Requiem for a Dream Haiku Review

Perfect dimensions,
drug use montages throughout:
intense, but not sad.

I can't believe I waited so long to see this movie. Everything I've heard for years is true: this film is beautiful and well-worth it.

This, That, and the Other

I'm the quasi-leader of Shorter's improv troupe, This, That, and the Other. I've been a member for four years now. This year has been amazing, the troupe is really getting all of its shit together. People are making the group a priority, and being in the troupe is like being campus famous: people stop and talk to you, everyone compliments you, and you get screamed at by scary people.

We packed the theatre for our Halloween show. Shut. Up.

Active games (for my personal reference):

Pimping
-Actor's Worst Nightmare
-Director's Choice
-Home Olympics
-Movie Review

Audience Participation
-Audience Helpers
-The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
-Whose Line

Full Group
-Bitch Concerto
-Crazy Dating Game
-Do-Run Song
-Slide Show
-Space Jump
-World's Worst

Guessing
-Complaint Department
-Good Cop/Bad Cop

Word Games
-Entrance/Exit Word
-Quick Change
-If You Know What I Mean
-Questions

Musical
-Film Noir
-Remember That Song

Physical
-Half-life
-John Wilkes Soundbooth
-Sit, Stand, Lie

To Do:
-Dating Game
-First Line/Last Line
-Musical Theatre Scene
-Party Quirks
-Press Conference
-Super-Heroes
-Three Headed Broadway

Already Ready

I spent most of the afternoon making my scene breakdowns for Thoroughly Modern Millie. I'll be the SM under Mr. Disney. I'm keeping an open mind: I mean, I don't like the show (vapid musical, le gasp), but maybe I'll have a fantastic time. That's my terminal optimism rearing its ugly head. Even though things usually happen on the negative side of the median, I usually believe that they will turn out okay.

Anyway, made new forms and all that jazz, so I feel accomplished.

A few words on Mr. Disney. This is his first year at Shorter and I haven't done a whole lot of research into his past. I hear that he's directed tons and lived in a lot of places. Okay. He's married, but his wife is elsewhere. He has been instrumental in support of student-run groups (like This, That, and the Other and Alpha Psi Omega), but he's unpopular with a lot of students. Why? Because they all happen to be failing his classes.

From what I can gather, about half of his Movement class is failing due to his incredibly rigid attendance policy. Said policy is that if you are three seconds late, you are absent for the entire class. Since almost half the grade for the class (which I managed to find in the nearly twelve page syllabus) is participation and attendance, this can make the quasi-slacker fail. I mean, if that were the attendance policy for my Mythological Structure seminar, I'd have been present exactly three times. However, I understand, that since he is almost entirely teaching freshmen, that he is trying to instill punctuality into them.

But, I don't know if I could pass that class. Because life happens. And how shitty is that?

Children of Men: Haiku Review

So, I think I'm going to start reviewing movies and books I read in haiku in form because I'm feeling really f'ing fanciful right now.

Children of Men

Moore and Michael Caine
die. Beautiful no-cut scenes,
dystopian grey.

Oh, on a side note, the extras had a feature that had a bunch of philosophers discussing issues raised by the film like globalization and reality. What blew my mind is that there were so many people willing to identify their career as that of a philosopher. It seems like the latte boy at Starbucks has a bigger impact on modern consciousness than them.

Running for the Hills

"And here I rest where disappointment and regret collide..."
--"Title and Registration," Death Cab for Cutie

Sometimes, my iTunes knows exactly what I need to listen to. And I'm not even using the Genius program...just the shuffle tends to work out.

I went to a Hallow's Eve party last night. I didn't want to go. I've had a really shitty week, but some friends asked me to go, and I thought maybe I'd be able to have a good time in spite of myself. That didn't happen.

I don't even really know what happened that made it such a horrible time for me. Nothing happened to me. I was fairly tipsy (read: shnookered), but I could have just spent the evening talking to people.

But, I keep seeing people making the same mistakes. And it isn't even one specific person: it's everyone. All the addicts: alcoholics, loveaholics, attention whores, basic whores, druggies, partiers, trannies, bicyclists, burnouts, and baklavarians. My attitude is that people simply don't want help. And that's fine, because I'm tired of trying.

Sirian came and got me last night because I couldn't stay there another moment...I was starting to freak out. My pH is all screwed up and life looks like the television version of itself.

I understand why wise men are often found at the top of mountains--that's exactly the number of people they want to see in a day.

I'm going to go read Beowulf now and...pray...for guidance.

Characteristic Humor

I feel like I don't let enough of myself come out in this blog. I overthink it. Which is stupid. I generally like what I write in other places, so I should just let if flow. I mean, I did read that last night (I had it in print at 2 AM...I'm completely unable to look at a computer screen comprehendingly after 1 AM. You can read it here). So, I'm just going to talk about whatever is in my head.

And right now, what I'm thinking about is K'Fain. At lunch today, there was a general consensus at the theatre table that she and I, while good apart, are usually much better together. We haven't been spending much time around one another, so we were both at full wit potential today. I imagine that will keep going for the rest of the night.

But, an interesting topic of conversation was brought up at lunch. We sat down, and my friend Davis, out of the blue, much like she usually does, turned to my friend Marty and said, "I don't understand why people are called African-American. I mean, you're not from Africa. You're from America." With that little comment, and his broad-sided stare, that set off our conversation.

People exploded into conversation, tip-toeing around the right words to use, but mostly just plowing through. We generally came to a consensus. Among our 2 white girls, 2 white guys, 1 black guy, and 1 mixed origins guy, we decided that it didn't really offend any of us to just be called American or whatever the color of our skin was. That doesn't really matter. Because none of us have any desire to go to Africa. I mean, I might end up there in the Peace Corps (damn you, basic French!), but there's not really a huge draw for most of the continent. You can go see the room where Angelina Jolie had her baby. Or, you could go and see a world really trying to get itself on its feet.

However, Africa is not where I tend to think about going for mindless fun. Somebody really needs to put some development dollars into that area. It really is an untapped region. Hello? I'm basically saying that I need a Disney in the Congo. I think that it would work out really well. And it would get people out of the house.

So, we talked about Africa's possibilities as a future entertainment venue, and then Davis piped up again: "I think I'm a Native American." Once again, we all stop and turn and stare. "I mean, I was born here, I've never even been anywhere else. I'm about as native as it gets." Sam, who is part Native American (enough to belong to a tribe's rez), was a little taken aback. And for some reason, people were more into defending Native American than African American. And I don't exactly understand why, but I have the same feeling. I mean, do we subconsciously quantify suffering? Do we compare genocide and the Trail of Tears to slavery? Do we still, in the South and in America, consider the tone of somebody's skin as it relates to lily-ass white? Or is it just something we've never thought about and we're dealing with issues which cafeteria food really isn't inspiring.

Anywho, that reminded me of the xkcd.com comic below.



























And that is my scattershot post. Hells yes, stream of consciousness

Looking Theatre

I'm going to say something that's not very popular in the school I go to. Receiving my college degree in Theatre and English, I believe that I have a unique perspective on the way academia and these fields work, because I sit inside and outside both of these departments. And I see that a lot of their problems are the same. I'm probably going to do a series of articles on this, so stay tuned.

Today, though, the cardinal sin I'm going to talk about is not looking the type.

In theatre, type is thegroup of parts that one would presumably play. However, that's not always true. You can also cast against type. And, despite my searching around the internet for a little while now, I can find no really definitive list or consensus of how many types there are or even what they are (this site is one of the few that I've reviewed that has a list of any kind).

However, from talking to my friends here and in other schools, they are constantly told to go for things in their type and to educate themselves in their type and to live, breathe, and die their type because the almighty type is the only thing that matters. It's like breathing. It's like bathing. It's like my roommate Raven cleaning the apartment. It's just one of those constants of the universe.

I guess that this lack of identifiable types has always bothered me. I mean, I know about the ingeneu and the leading man and the hotshot rebel and the old man, but then you come to the minefield of "character actor." What the hell does that mean? What are the requirements? Or is it just everybody that couldn't play one of the leads?

The fact that these thigns are so perilously non-defined strikes me as a problem. I'm looking for a list. Any help?

Changes Around Shorter

A few things from around good old Shorter College:

-They are replacing the steps next to FSU that lead from one path to another path. They are replacing these steps with larger steps, making it almost a complete path. I see cobblestones happening in the future.

-Mid-semester classes are over, so those with Health and HPE classes are now getting much more sleep and have a chunk of time that they previously devoted to getting less obese (in theory).

-I have found out that the counselor on campus, Dr. Gellar, has administrative privilege over pretty much every faculty member and can pull students out of anything that is making them unhappy or psychologically unstable. From basically everything from campus groups to work-study to classes. Fascinating and potentially useful if someone played it right.

That's all I've got for right now. I've got to go write a villanelle. I'm putting it off because I'm trying to skate the surface right now.

Mental Health Day

I took the day off because I had an awful yesterday.
But now I'm getting things done.
I'm drinking Diet Coke and singing Ludo songs.
And I'm getting ready for rehearsal tonight.

The final word is:

Luke, you're right and I am wrong.

Drunken Philosopher

Add that to my ever-expanding list of titles.

I got into a fight with this guy, Luke Matthews, last night. He and I are friends...we've actually become friends remarkably fast for how I usually do things. But, we disagree about some major issues when it comes to love and relationships. We have a lot of the same methods of approaching problems, though, so we are of absolutely no use to each other, it would seem. I don't know. We were each talking about the awkward relationships in our life. He said that our situations were the same. I told him that our situations are nothing alike.

We were both wrong, but in unequal amounts.

Because we were both several drinks in, we refused to back down (earlier in the night, I was supposed to keep him off of deep, dark subjects). He called me on my elitism, which I have never hidden. Although, he did pay me quite the backhanded compliment earlier in the night: "Mack, the reason that you are great is that you let your love for other people outweigh your logical hatred of them." I eventually stormed away from him when he told me I didn't care about people. "If I don't care about people, then I don't have to stand here and listen to this. Good night, Luke." I walked out of the apartment we had coopted for this conversation and went home.

We've already apologized to each other.

It's been a long time since I've simply walked out on a conversation. It's been a long time since I've been in a conversation with no possible good outcome. It's been a long time since I've been frustrated and angry with one of my friends. Are we closer because of it? Probably. But I don't have time for that. I have to go pick Stone up from the airport.

Sex

So, this is something that I haven't written about yet, but it is something near and dear to my heart (and the regions about two feet below and above it). But, I don't want to write today about my personal sex life. There really isn't any reason to go into it since I'm not the kind of guy who kisses and tells. Suffice to say that I've had it (a few times...) and my mother knows it, meaning that everyone is allowed to know it.

But, I was talking to Kate earlier today and she told me that she had had sex this past weekend. Which is awesome cause Lord knows she hasn't been laid in a while. When I told her that, she said that it had been 26 months, and even then, it was with her ex-boyfriend. And before that, it had been 10 months. For those of you tallying at home, that's almost three years. She told me that she thought 10 months was a long time, but it was a breeze compared to 26. Noted.

I was in a dry spell, but she was the Sahara of sex.

I'm glad that she had an awesome time. And she sounded happy and enthused. And I contribute it to sex endorphins.

Because, honestly, sometimes all you need is a good lay.

Twinkling of God's Eye

Something that I haven't thought about in a while came up in lunch:

I am terrified of the rapture because I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be Left Behind and I won't even have a best-selling series of books written about me. Whenever I don't see anyone for a while, I imagine the rapture happened and I was one of the only one's left.

But, what if the rapture happened, and only seven people were taken? And we just listed them as missing people? How would we ever know? And wouldn't that be ironic in the saddest sense?

Plus, it's supposed to happen in the twinkling of God's Eye. What if a twinkling takes a week? People who are on the good side of heaven gets translucent and start really fading on Thursday. Give people a chance to wail and say their good-byes. I think that might be the most tragic thing in the world.

Listening to: "One for the Cutters" by The Hold Steady

That Song From Legally Blonde

A bit of drama today. I'm sitting at lunch when Lupo comes and sits in front of me.

"Did you get my message?"
"Nope. Haven't been online today."
"Oh. You have to go look at Esau's status."
"Why?"
"It says, "Esau didn't know that just because he asked somebody to watch a movie it was a date."

So, I trundle on down to my room and check the Facebook. Sure enough, I have a message from Lupo, but when I check Esau's page, there is no status update in his newsfeed. Now, I know that Lupo isn't a liar, so I guess Esau just decided to delete that status and pretend it never happened. But, for those of you who care, here is the rest of the story.

Esau is a freshman who wants to hang out with me a lot. Because I'm hella busy, we don't often. So, Saturday, after dinner, since I didn't have anything today, he and my friend Tony come down to my room to watch a movie. While we're watching it, Esau leans on me and asks if he's hurting me. Obviously not. But it was a little awkward. Thus, I was in and out of the movie a lot updating my computer. Movie gets done, Esau leaves. I ask Tony if he thinks that he Esau was hitting on me. Tony says yes. I tell some friends because its a part of my weekend that was weird because its getting to be general knowledge that Stone and I are a couple.

And apparently Esau is pissed.

Whatever. Passive aggression doesn't work. I never talked to you about how much I hated you invading my personal space when we really don't know each other, but I guess now we never will have to.

A Brief Update

Finished The Watchmen. It was okay...I don't know.
Taught smoking and sex today.
Went to improv.
Watched Sweet Bird of Youth.

A Few of My Daily Things

A few things from today:

First off, this morning, the radio in my head was playing extra loud. First up on the radio? "Under the Sea" from The Little Mermaid. It was a weird mix of the movie and the Broadway version. I know. Then, because this guy in my grammar class has a National Guard backpack, that song that they play before movies, "Citizen Soldier," got stuck in my head. Classy.

I just finished the fourth draft of my play "Love's Call." It is also fully blocked now! The actor's, without any rehearsal of merit (we've been strictly blocking...I hate mixing up different parts of the process all together), have already shown me a great deal of growth. I am very pleased. Plus, everyone loves Daniel's diabetes monologue in Act II. One of my actors (who has diabetes) leaned down to me after it was done and asked me if I secretly had it. That's always what you want to hear. I consider that a slam dunk. Anyway, taking the next few days off because they are all going to be at GTC.

I've been reading the Watchmen. Not really in preparation for the movie (because things will be different and that's always disappointing). Rather, it's just one of those things that I feel like I should have read. And a lot of people have been raving about it to me. So, I borrowed K'Fain's copy. I don't know yet. I'm about five volumes in (12 volume set)...maybe it's just that the graphic novel form doesn't really appeal to me. I don't read a lot (meaning, I don't read any) of them. And it's distracting. But maybe, by the end, it will prove me a liar. Besides, it's a departure from The Night Trilogy which I read last weekend (you know, because it was Fall Break...).

Anything else...? I don't think so right now. So I leave you with a hilarious video that I was thinking about earlier today. Click here.

So, High School Tournament Today

Okay, so my day. Is crazy. But my teams just walked in, so more in the break.

Back now. So, here's the thing: I feel bad when I favor one team that I'm reading for more than the other. And it's not the usual way that I've heard so many people say: people prefer the yellow team to win because their buzzers are less annoying. The yellow ones sound like a harpies dying call.

I feel biased towards those that I see as non-socially awkward--those who might one day actually see a boob. The one's who might be able to carry on a conversation with me. But I don't favor them; I actually force myself to be harsher on them (Lusi"t"ania not "Lu"th"isania) because I don't want my bias to surface. How Twilight is that? (By the way, I will be stealing Kathleen's phrase because I love it)

In other news, I have almost quadruple-booked my day:
--A-bowl tournament
--Coffee with Kwist
--Rehearsal
--Dinner with boy
--Homework
--Yearbook pictures for cover

And at some point, I need to rewrite I.3 of Love's Call so that Jamel doesn't have to cry but can instead injure himself. It'll be funnier and will actually give them stuff to do instead of just emotions to have. Hacha!

But, anyway, that's my day. I run my rounds fast, so there's no reason that I don't have time to write all this stuff. I think I'm going to go ahead and do a little FB-stalking before the next round starts. I can already tell that I'm not rooting for the red team.

Sorry for the Downtime

I put this blog on private for a while for a few reasons:

A. I wasn't writing. But I wanted it to look like I was. (by the way, one of those sentences is a lie.)

B. I was using a few of the posts for another project. But I'm done with that.

C. I was lazy and busy with other projects and I forgot to do so.

But, this is back open to the general world. So, an update in the life of me.

My play, Love's Call, is in AHA production right now with the following cast:

Martin--Jamel Booth
Leslie--Mareal Villareal
Daniel--Nick Mason
Glendon--Greige Lott
Travis--Michael Lindsey
Andrea--Elizabeth MacDonell
Nurse--Kathleen Hoyt

I am directing and the performance is Monday, November 3rd, time TBA. I wish I could invite all of you to come, but AHA is closed to the department. Like, my mother isn't even able to come. Sucktastic. However, I did get a rewrite done in the last hour on the play...some scenes were playing way too serious so I lightened them a little bit. That's the joy of directing your own work: if something isn't working, you can change it, no problem.

In other news, I may have found a dude. And by that, I mean I found him, but I don't know if we are to the point where I can blog about him. So stay tuned. Or call me if you want more info.

I was without a phone all of last week because I lost it Applebee's. But I have it back. But I have very few people's phone numbers. So, that's probably where I'm going after this: to plug everyone's number back into my phone.

I'll try to think of something witty to write later, but until then, be safe.

The Joke of Green

"'The earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it...' Psalm 24:1"
--Found on the back of Shorter's Convocation T-shirt

Yesterday, the convocation speaker talked about the importance of being environmentally conscious and how it was important that Christians embrace a more sustainable way of life because of their duty as stewards of the earth. Gotcha. An appeal to religion at a religious school. But he makes a good point, and it was a good way to kick-off Shorter's "Year in Green" (I forget what the actual title is, but that's the gist).

Yet, immediately following convocation in my air-conditioned gym, I walked across my campus where we have recently put down sod to make the campus more attractive. I walked near the now cobblestone paths which very recently were brand-new concrete paths, replaced, I imagine, to appear more aesthetically pleasing. Walking through buildings burning lights that nobody was using, I arrived at the lunch for the day.

Due to the mass of people, the plates and silverware were disposable, mostly being made from plastic (requires petroleum in production) and styrofoam (takes about 300 years to biodegrade).

Later that day, we had a selective blackout around campus, but that didn't stop us from having our Midnight Breakfast.

At lunch today, they were still using styrofoam and plasticware...even though fewer than 200 people were in the caf.

On top of all of this, we don't have a recycling program, a compost program, a mandate towards a paperless campus, or any environmental initiative aside from the claim that we are "going Green."

I get the joke...somehow, though, I'm not laughing.

Heading Back to Shorter

Okay, I'm heading back up to Rome today. Getting my bags packed and getting the hell out. I had a lot of stuff that I wanted to write about...but I'll stick with something simple. There may be a lot of posts in the next few days as I unwind from the end of the summer and get prepared for school. I'm doing a massive voter push soon and I'm trying to get that all straight in my head.

Basically, today, I want to talk about the Olympics. I know, I tired, trite subject that everyone's been talking about...that is if they care about them. I don't understand how there are people who don't like the Olympics. They happen once every four year, complete jazz up NBC's primetime line-up, and provide an unparalleled exhibition of the best athletes in the world.

"But I don't like watching that sport."

I could give a shit. Watch it to root on your country. If you don't like your country, root for the teams that are playing against them. But these are the best athletes in the world competing in things that I could never dream of accomplishing, much less doing in world record fashion. They deserve your support.

Also, if you expect it to be stupid, then the Ameri-hipster ideal will find you and you won't enjoy yourself. When China scores a point against America in court volleyball, start cussing. When somebody lands a winning shot that looked like it was going on, cheer. Invite friends over and eat fried food. Pull out the uncomfortable couch bed. It'll be worth it.

"But America isn't winning this year."

Could give a shit. We've won tons. And it's not the American Games...it's the Olympics. Everybody gets a chance to win. If you want America to win more, train in an event and go get the gold.

"But now that Michael Phelps is done..."

Okay, great, he's the most accomplished Olympian ever, but we have a week of Track & Field, Basketball, Beach and Court Volleyball, Individual Gymnastics, and dozens of team event finals coming up this week. Michael Phelps had his time and he did fantastically. But there are other athletes doing incredible things. Don't tune out just because you've never heard of them.

We have four days left. Make them count. You don't get anything like it again for another two years.

"But I don't like the closing ceremonies."

That's fine. Nobody likes the closing ceremonies. See if MTV is doing an ANTM marathon.

A Brief Note on the Olympics

I have no idea why I like the Olympics as much as I do. I get easily distracted from important tasks to research the minutiae to the medal count and event schedules. And as much as I like watching the events, I'm just as content to read Chicago's 2016 bid for the Olympics or to research the founding and dissolution of the Artistic Medals (thank you so very much, Wikipedia).

So, tonight (tomorrow morning Beijing time), we've been watching the male all-around competition. And the American gymnasts. There are two of them in this competition. Alexander Artemev led the two of them, hanging out in the low teens for most of his rotations. However, the cameras rarely focused on him.

Instead, all eyes were on Jonathan Horton.

I don't have a lot to say. Instead, since I'm tired, my thoughts are very bullet-listed:

-Was I the only one (besides the entire room full of people I watched it with) that thought he came off of every aparatus with a boner?
-His right arm looks way bigger than his left arm.
-It looked like no one was talking to him. This may be aforementioned boner or that he looked like he was on the verge of roid rage the entire time.

In addition to Horton's near-craziness, I swear someone has greased this year's Olympic Gymnastics equipment--it seems like everyone is falling. Personally, I think Poland greased the balance beam and Palestine did the pommel horse. Apparently, I was on a P-kick in my groundless accusations tonight.

By the way, Georgia beat Russia in their preliminary beach volleyball match, 2-1, but not before the French burst in to play the game on their behalf.

You're Hard Earned Dollars At Work

And by you, I mean mine. And by mine, I mean the students at Shorter who don't have a sweet scholarship.

Now, Shorter has had something of a cash-flow issue in recent years. It's endowment is not especially large so this tuition driven college has been doing everything it can to save money and attract students of all kinds. And even though the entry level SAT score has been plummeting and the atmosphere of the college has changed, many argue for the worse, that's not why I'm writing today.

Because Shorter is trying to save money. They have raised tuition, room, and board again to something like 23.5 a year. And what did they do with this money?

A little birdie (who didn't want me to go into a fit of homicidal mania when I get back up there in a week) told me that this is how they spent it:








Yes, humble inquirer, those are Segways. For our security staff to ride around on.

Nevermind that between their office in the Student Union and the furthest building on the hill is about a five-minute pimp walk.
Nevermind that Shorter is on a hill, thus making these devices impractical down the steep roads that lead to the gym. Nevermind that in defiance of all decrees of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) and common decency that Shorter is one of the most handicap (and those Segway) inaccessible places that I have ever been to.
Nevermind that Shorter is made of cobblestones and greenery in the front circle, each of which could be damged by the use of this item.
Also, nevermind that even at Segway's top speed of 12.5 mph it would take approximately seven minutes of puttering to reach the gatehouse or the Bass Villages (longer to reach High Acres). Further, nevermind that during class changes, it will be impossible to drive these around campus due to the large number of people walking.
And, lastly, nevermind that they already have a car to make any excursion that can't be made simply by walking.

What I would like to know is why they need them. Because, in a budget crunch (where several budgets have been frozen for several years), it seems that one would only buy something one actually needed. Yet, Shorter security employs no paraplegics, no one missing a limb of any kind.

Now, I haven't been back up to Rome yet so I have no idea how many of these monstrosities of uselessness Shorter has acquired. But here is a line from the good ol' Wikipedia Segway page:

"In the US the price (MSRP, July 2008) of the various Segway models ranges from $5,350 to $6,400"

One of these machines is someone's room and board. Four of them are a year's collegiate education. Now, I don't want to seem like I'm going on forever about something that really equates to a purchase of less than $50k. But, for a ball park figure, let's say they spent $20k this year on purchase, training, and maintenance on these machines. Here's how I would have spent the money:

-Year subscription to the JSTOR online database to provide a decent research tool for primary sources in literature and history. ($11k)
-Getting rid of mold in older buildings ($4k)
-Bug-bombing all of the buildings and increased presence of bug control ($3.5k)
-Replacement of all smoke detectors to be non-defective and tamper-proof ($1.5k)

Now, I honestly don't know if any of those numbers are correct. They could easily be much more expensive or much cheaper. But I suspect that they have all already been taken care of. Otherwise, I'm sure such an egregiously inane expenditure never would have been undertaken.

But, come to think of it, I'll rest safer knowing that I have Segway cops to protect me.

Now if someone could explain to me why I only know of three entering theatre/musical theatre students...

Get Some Rest

Apparently, all my body needed from today was a gigantic nap. I went to sleep this morning somewhere around 1:30 (all I know is that I didn't get to see the re-airing of last night's Colbert Report). I got up today about 1 PM. I never sleep that late. Pretty much ever. Not even during the school year when I don't have a rehearsal on a Saturday (safely falling in the rare-to-never category). Anywho...

I'm ready to move back to Shorter. Ready to have my senior year and graduate. My biggest worry for the next year? My capstone reception. See, I'm not really a receiving kind of guy (moving on from the obvious jokes). Instead, I kind of want to go out with the ten people I really enjoy and have a kick-ass post-show dinner filled with compound adjectives. But, bowing to social norms and the fact that I'll in all probability have a private show, that is almost certainly out. So, my family, living 250 miles away, won't be able to plan said reception. So, I get to do it. And that's what pisses me off about the whole affair.

I think I might just kick a shit ton of pasta and call it a day. I've never been to a reception at Shorter where they served pasta.

I am slowly filling up my latest pen and paper journal. It's almost done. I finally broke down and bout some real pens the other night because I couldn't write in red anymore...it looked like I was the Marquis de Sade from Quills...and I was only writing about the screwed up lives of myself and my friends.

This blog, starting when I get back, will begin to be my Shorter experience log. Doing it right in pseudonyms.

Now, I'm off to work on the massive monologue book (Lisa, when I get it to a reasonable level of being done, I will most definitely send it to you).

1957

There are some things that I associate with another time and place because of television and movies. One of those things happened today. I left Amanda's house this morning, having fallen asleep on the futon at around 2 AM, to discover some gunk all over my windshield. At first, I had no idea what it was.

I was parked under a pine tree, but no pine tree (at least in the South) saps that much, that thickly in one night. The yard man had been there that morning, so maybe he had hit a bird and the blood had hit my car. But that couldn't be it, because it wasn't red and there were no feathers. It also wasn't any sort of fuel, because when I tried to use my wipers to clear it, it didn't move.

I drove home trying to figure out what it was. By now, I'm sure you know what happened. But it wasn't until I parked outside of the apartment that I found the tiny bit of shell that would clue me in: my car had been egged. With an egg. And the yellow in the middle of my windshield was dried on yolk. And it stank, like an egg rotting in the sun does.

I went upstairs and got a rag, tried to clean it off, but that was of limited success. So, I took my car, for the first time in three years, to the car wash.

I have never been to the car wash because my car doesn't get that dirty. I rarely go on dirt roads, and even when pollen coats the ground so thick that it looks like a gypsy wonderland, I still won't go. The rain will remove anything grossly huge. Anything else I can live with because it does not affect the way my car runs. Egg on the windshield, however, is impairing visibility to a grossly unsatisfactory level.

So, I cleaned it off...it didn't even remove the paint from my car.

But to get back to the topic I started with at the top. It pissed me off because it felt so childish. No one hates me enough to egg my car (no one who even dislikes me knows that I'm in Tifton right now). So, it was vandals. From 1957. They were then going to go heckle a black person and go home to watch Hee Haw.

Why do I hate people as a collective? Because of the tendency to chaos for no damn reason.

A Wasted Day

Today, I really did nothing.

I got up and worked out and then went to lunch. Mason came with me and we met up with Mandy and Ty. We went to see Cassandra who was working at Applebee's to pay for her trip to India with her father.

I got there earliest, as usual. We said we were going to meet at 12:30, which means I got there at 12:30, Mason got there at 12:40 and Mandy and Ty rolled in at a quarter til. Anyway, the family behind me ordered lunch. They had two children. One child (about six) ordered a double order of french fries and that was it. The other child did not order any food. Instead, the mother hands Cassandra, their waitress, a blue lunchbox and says that, since their child is allergic to a lot of things, they brought food for him to eat. She asked if it could be heated up. For 2:30. And if it could be put on a plate. Cassandra's head just kind of slumped to the side, but she said sure and took the food into the back.

Okay, this might be my topic to write on today, because today was kind of a non-day. Be nice to your servers and do not give them any shit. They will spit in your food and send negative karma your way. Do not make outrageous requests of people who get paid less then minimum wage to deal with it.

In other words, when you go out to a restaurant, plan to order food there. For everyone who eats. And if you are allergic to the world, sip your water and eat when you get home.

Thanks,

the Management.

My New Resolution

Okay, so I have been super lax in updating this thing.

However, there's no reason for me to neglect this. I can type so much faster than I can write by hand so I need to be writing daily. And I really want to use this as an idea board for some other projects that I'm working on. So, with that said, I will attempt to write here everyday.

This is like talking into a mirror, knowing that this is mostly going only to myself. But whatever.

My willpower is bullshit. I promised myself that I was going to get up at 8 this morning, but that didn't work out. Astonishing. I would like to believe that I have a really strong will, but I know tht I honestly don't. Instead, when my alarm went off, I slept til 11. I just couldn't go to sleep last night. Instead, I finished the book I was reading.

I bought it for a dollar (I think it was a fluke in processing at the B&N, but whatever. I'm broke and in college so I'll take it). It's Mary Karr's second memoir, Cherry. It takes the female perspective of the classic, Southern, coming-of-age and coming-of-sexual-age story.

So, things I liked about this book: some great turns of phrase. This is the first time I've read anything by Karr (discounting the segment she wrote in Inventing the Truth [which, that whole book and experience was a tragedy on ice]). The idea of being "boned into guacamole" is hilarious. Plus, I can total relate to many of the experiences that she talks about like being one of the few thoughtful kids in high school and wanting to subvert the natural order. However, this differs from my life because the 1990's and 1970's are hardly the same. In the 90's and early new millennium, everyone I knew desparately wanted to be different and fit in at the same time. Karr talks about the ostracization and the rules of belonging, though different, apply to every group.

Further, the line "your normally disaffected face scorched by tears" describes just about every time that I can ever remember crying. It doesn't feel cold and melancholy. It feels hot and angry and feral.

However, I did have a few problems with the book. And by few, I mean just one big one. Most of the book is written in a very overt second person. While for most of the middle portions it doesn't bother me, the references to "your father" and the introduction and closing chapters are really strained. However, the overall story makes up for these shortcomings.

So, today I learned some basic fencing. Fun. Liked the guy who taught it.

Tonight, going to go see Stomp. I'm excited...it really is one of my favorite concerts.

I think I found a good deal on tickets to go see Hello and Goodbye by Athol Fugard. I'm going to see if Krystin wants to go with me. I hope so. I would really like to see it.

In other news, I'm starting to get frustrated with some people, but what else is new. People just are whatever they want to be. And that's not going to change.

Anyway, I'm going to go read now. Try to feel better.

...

This is an ad that I get on a fairly regular basis in the left column of my Facebook account. I had never really read it before.

However, it claims to be the "classiest" network for gay guys on the web.

Somehow, I have a hard time of thinking of online dating...through ads on Facebook...classy.

Posts From England

Sitting in a computer lab at Regent's College in beautiful London, UK listening to the soundtrack to "Across the Universe" refusing to be brought down by the keyboard that is a little different than the one in the states. The keys are a bit smaller, and I have giant man hands.

One of the people on the trip got sent home this morning. He had been threatening a bunch of the people on the trip. Not with harm, just kin d of had a threatening way about him, if you understand what I'm saying. Generality is the death of art, so I'm going to get specific because I've been asked to.

I don't like him. I'm not going to make a secret about that. He was annoying. He got on my nerves. He said things at inappropriate times. K'Fain had already warned me about him because she had had a class with him.

He's a compulsive liar. In the seven days he was here, he claimed to be able to play the organ, wanted to do advanced research in stem cells and curing cancer, that he was advanced in the martial arts, and that he was an advanced hacker. The last of these I know to be false. He was talking about C++ and other older programs. Instead of talking about any sort of new programming languages or anything like that. I said Python to him and his face glazed over.

We called him Werthers after the knack he had in World Lit for coming in late, eating noisy candy, and generally being rude. K'Fain says he has a Napoleon complex. I think he likes to be the center of attention at all times.

At several points, he would lay on girls, touch their arms, hug them...many had to tell them that he did not have the place to invade their personal space like that. Classy.

Let's see...he also slept through all discussions and stayed up all night. This is class.

Why My Kids Won't Be Special

This may sound like a rip-off of Disney's The Incredibles, but when everyone is special, no one is. This has come to my attention in sharp contrast in the last twenty-four hours.

At my school, (good ol' S****** College) I am a third-year BA English and Theatre double major with an emphasis in Creative Writing and Stage Management. I attend an average of 23 hours of class a week and I spend my evenings cut between stage managing our current production of Guys and Dolls and hanging out with my friends that have quickly become my family.

So, when people try to make my life difficult, I don't take kindly to it.

I am trying to be more positive, though, so in my intro meeting last night at the first rehearsal, I cussed very little verses the sailor on steroids that I usually am. I nicely said that I wanted this to a process of very little negativity and that I would appreciate it if people could leave their jadededness at home.

No. Such. Luck.

First rehearsal, three people hanged themselves. I have to talk to three people after one rehearsal; pretty much all of them have a horrible attitude. If you want to quit the show and if doing theatre means so little to you, then leave. Don't get a degree. Why would you waste your money or, more importantly, your time on a program and a training that you don't believe will aid you? Two of them, Anna and Barbara, decided to have a self-titled comedy hour while learning a song. Another, Tim, decided that he would murmur to himself in a near chant that the acting exercises were "the stupidest thing [he'd] ever done."

Thank you so much for being a bastion of hope and light. I appreciate it, as do the 27 other members of the cast and the 15 member design team. We really appreciate it. I really do enjoy having people spit in my face.

But why won't my kids be special? Because I'm not. I go to class, I do my job, I love my families, and I go to sleep. And these people pretend to be the shit because they are "special" and have nothing more to learn. Great. Groovy. Wonderful for them, but I'm not that good at life, so I think that I'll keep my plebian status for a bit longer...

At least until I pull in a steady paycheck.

Oh Yeah? Well My Mom...

I went and saw my department's production of Tartuffe this past Thursday night. During intermission, I called my mother back.

"Guess what happened to me today?"

"What happened Dot?"

"I got a call from Tyler Perry Studios. They asked me what I was doing for the next six weeks. They had a job for me in Atlanta if I could be there. I told them that I hade a full time job and a family. They said 'Oh, well, thanks anyway.' Then I asked what the job was. They said that they wanted me to be Kathy Bates stand in and body double for their new movie. They'd pay me 110 dollars a day plus expenses."

"And you said?"

"I turned it down, of course. I can't get away. But I kept cussing for the next hour cause I wanted to so bad."

"You should have."

"Maybe, but I'm not an actress. But it's flattering to be asked."

***

This is the latest reason why my mother is awesome. This sort of thing happens to her all the time. Not the being-tapped-for-an-entry-job-in-movies thing, but the isn't-my-life-not-exactly-the-mother-of-a-college-student's-it's-supposed-to-be.

My mother runs a community theater, directs online Scrabble tournaments, fights nuns in her spare time, compulsively hums "Pomp and Circumstance," will wear a vellure pant suit, drinks nearly a gallon of Diet Coke a day, and is a former private investigator. Okay, one of those isn't true, but I'll let you figure which one out on your own.

In short, I pose this challenge to you to think about: Who could your mom beat up and how?

My answer: Captain Hook, a bear, and communism. For the how, please see above.

Waffle Houses

Welcome to the WaHo life! I have no association with the Waffle House corporation except that I enjoy their bacon and I spend many hours in their faux wooden booths talking to my friends and generally avoiding the way too much responsibility that I've given myself.

What I'd like to start with today, though, is waffles. The way someone eats a waffle says a lot about them as a person. There are many important factors: location of waffle origin, material, accoutrements, syrup saturation, utensil usage, and completion. Let's look at each of these briefly:

Location of waffle origin: There is nothing wrong with making waffles in your house. In fact, if you like making frozen waffles, all this says about you is that you have a pulse and a freezer. You might have kids, you might be a student, or you might just be someone who gets up earlier enough to make waffles, but not earlier enough to make waffles from scratch and brush your teeth.

If you go to my school (S****** College), you make a waffle if and only if there is nothing else palatable in the cafeteria. This can lead to many dinners made up of waffles and a long line at the waffle iron.

If you go out to IHOP, your not eating waffles--that's a pancake. Get in your car and try again.

Once you've reached the Waffle House, you are at the appropriate waffle haven. These people know how to do it right and quickly. Go sit down (but please reserve the booths for two or more guests).

Material: You have wheat and normal waffle. Always choose the normal waffle. You are eating what amounts to sugar and butter laden bread--this is not a time to be concerned with your carbohydrate consumption. It is a time to consider the location of your next insulin shot.

Accoutrements: My advice is: don't. When they serve you your waffle, the beautiful staff at the Waffle House (and they are wonderful people, but more on that later) will bring you the only two things you need: butter and syrup. Don't put pecans, strawberries, whipped cream, loogies, soft shell crab, wood shavings, or chocolate chips/syrup on your waffle. These things don't need to touch it. Don't do it. If you have to have them, order them on the side and eat them as an appetizer. You have to leave yourself a discriminating pallate for your soggy mess. The only thing you are allowed is the single pat of butter that the Waffle House staff will bring you (by this point, I assume youhave given up your Eggo and converted George Foreman grill and gone to a place that can really help you out).

Syrup Saturation: Finally, your waffle has arrived! There are three approaches to syrup. The first group doesn't use it. They tend to be calorie-conscious sticks in the mud who think that all children riding bikes should wear helmets. Who needs them? If you see these people, you should steal their waffles.

The second group dabs syrup onto their waffles. That's okay. I mean, it's the little black dress of syrup consumption: you can't go wrong with it, especially if you're sharing.

The last group are the dousers. You, my friends and colleagues, have never grown out of putting syrup into every square of a waffle. You completely cover it and use the waffle as texture for the delicious nectar that syrup is. After the waffle is complete, you often use your fork as a leaky sieve to collect and consume all the excess syrup that has built up post-waffle.

Utensil Usage: Please use one. Sticky is the worst feeling in the world. I'd rather have one of my limbs cut off then touch the laminate menu and have it become fused to my skin through the magic of grossness. I prefer just a fork, but if you need to keep both of your hands occupied (talking to you now, Emily Post), then, by all means use the knife. It might still have some residual butter on it.

You know, on second thought, on the off-chance it does stilll have butter on it, use the knife.

Completion: Not everyone can make it through a whole waffle. I understand. But you should try. Eat along the lines so you can quantify the amount of food you are wasting in light of recent staggering world hunger statistics. If you got through less than half, you didn't really want a waffle; you wanted a pancake. You should have stayed at the IHOP.

More than a quarter, less than a half means that you might have eaten something else at the meal or you didn't like the taste or you had to take a very important phone call to Singapore. I don't understand you.

Less than a quarter but not finished: Pussy. Stick it out til the end. How much could one more bite hurt?

Finished: Waffle champion. You enjoyed it, it was wonderful, and you should seriously consider eating another one. After all, if one was good, three more are going to be fantastic!


In short, I love waffles. They make me sick because I eat them unhealthily, but that does not detract from their beauty or enjoyment. Waffles, like many things in life, can tell you a lot about a person.

What they say about me is: In times of joy, strife, Law & Order marathons, post-show, pre-coffee, waiting at the hospital, waiting for the world to change, during the elections, during the Olympics, during the Depression: There are waffles to be had and conversation to be made.

That you can count on.