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.