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I am a blogger who specializes in using blogs to blog.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

The 15 Minute Entry

I have 15 minutes to write a blog entry before I have to get ready to leave. 15 minutes, what can a person say in 15 minutes? We're about to find out.

So, Christmas was a few days back, good holiday, lots of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, not sure why I got so many of those this year, but I did. And it's good. Trust me :D

I also got not one, but two copies of the complete works of William Shakespeare. I guess my parents and my grandparents got the same Christmas list.

I also got a Keane CD, Under the Iron Sea, which I'm listening to right now. Good CD, Keane's my favorite band, so it's sort of obvious I would like it. Listening to Crystal Ball right now, actually, which is, coincidentally, my ringtone.

Which brings me to some other news. Before the whole vacation/holiday thing started, my Dad decided he hated his phone. Now, when this happens, it usually means some shuffling of the family tech takes place, and I usually end up with the exact same thing I had before while everyone else gets someone else's techy thing. This time however, through some rather long negotiations I wasn't present for, and apparently a bit of dancing from my sister, I somehow, by the end of it, found myself with a new phone. It's a nice phone, it's a razor. Basically, it's the same thing as my old phone, except it looks different, has a better screen, better reception, and ringtones. So, I guess, when you think about, it's nothing like my phone, but there you go.

Ok, three more minutes. Wow, I can't believe it's been 11 minutes already, can you? It's amazing how quickly time goes by sometimes, especially when you don't really want it to. I mean, I do want time to go by, this time, since I'm about to go to a party that I'm really looking forward to, but I also sort of want to type out a readable, enjoyable Blog entry, which I may have accomplished, but probably didn't in the past 13 minutes.

Wow, now I only have two minutes! What can I say in two minutes? Hm...no, wait! Now I only have one minute! Ok...one minute, what can I say in one minute? Hm...how about...goodbye! Since the one minute mark has passed and I have to go now.

So, Goodbye! Hope you enjoyed this little snippet of my life!


Monday, December 24, 2007

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Said the shepard boy to the mighty king:

"Do you know what I know?"
"In your palace warm, mighty king?"
"Do you know what I know?"
"A child, a child"
"Shivers in the cold."
"Let us bring him silver and gold,"
"Let us bring him silver and gold!"

Because that would definitely help. Just saying. Every time I'm shivering in the cold, I always think "Gee, I sure wish I had some silver and gold right now" as opposed to "Gee, I sure wish I had a coat and some hand warmers" Definitely.

Just, had to get that out there. That verse bugs me every time. I do like the song though, it's one of my favorites :) You know, as far as Christmas Carols go.

Happy Holidays everyone. Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanza, Winter Solstace, Saturnalia, Yule, Eid. Whatever it is that you celebrate, I hope it's a good one :D

Talk to you later,


Saturday, December 08, 2007

I'm Free

Or rather, we're free. Yes, tonight was the last ever performance of Footloose at my school, the last time any of us will ever have to sing "I'm Free" and forget the dance, the last time we'll have to remember to take our chairs offstage after the Town Counsel scene, the last time we'll have to set our prom dresses for a quick change on stage right, and strip in front of all the techies directly before the finale. It's the last time, and it's gone, and I feel...confused.

Footloose was quite possibly the most difficult show I've ever been in. Not material-wise, mind you, there was no "death by gas chamber" scenes in this one, it was just plagued by about every type of misfortune a school play could be plagued by. We had no musical director for about four straight weeks, we had snow days, we had complicated choreography, but most importantly we had a school which had never dealt with the impossible before, the thought that a musical was more than just dancing and glitter, the fact that beneath the kick lines and harmonies there were real characters with real stories desperately trying to be heard above the chaos.

So many times I heard "It's so serious for a musical" or "How can a musical possibly be this intense?" Even our director admitted that our school did nothing but fluff before this, that until now, we hadn't taken this kind of risk. It was scary, it was confusing, it was...different. It was emotional.

The problem was, I had taken this kind of risk. I had tackled difficult theatrical material, and I hadn't died. Trying to convince a large body of nervous student actors and techies that despite the fact that we had no music and no kick line it would all work out, was hard. It annoyed a lot of people, my consistent optimism, and if any of you are reading this, I'm sorry about that.

Despite having rehearsal for God-knows how many hours everyday after school, a lot happened during Footloose. Someone was established in the drama department, someone found the confidence to dance, someone else looked up at the scene in front of her, and saw her life played out on stage, a few people got into college, a few people didn't, there were birthdays and funerals and parties, and in the midst of it all I suddenly found myself with a driver's license. A few people bonded, a few people didn't. A whole lifetime passed behind those curtains, and now, it's over.

To the audience, a play passes in a second. You spend about an hour or two watching a performance, you either like or you don't, and you move on. Most of the time, you don't think about it much, maybe occasionally you'll think "I remember when I saw that play..." but other than that, an audience just doesn't think about the play much. They don't realize how long the actors and techies worked, they don't realize whole lives have been changed by what's happening in front of them, they don't realize the life that happens behind the scenes. A whole lifetime for the performers, and the audience blinks and misses it.

Footloose was so many things to so many people. For some, it was their first show, for others it was their twentieth. Some people found their lives in the characters, and some people wished they were the characters. For everyone, it was stressful, by the end of the run you could, quite literally, cut the tension in the air with a knife. Everyone was holding their breath from opening to closing night, and when it was over, we all finally let it out.

I had a lot of interesting conversations with people during this play, none of which I will relate here since it is, in fact, the internet, and free for anyone to see. I got to know a lot of very different people and discovered that, surprisingly, they weren't all that different. I'm closer to a lot of people now than I was three months ago, and a lot farther away from a few others.

What this leads me with is a sense of both relief and sadness. If you had asked me two days ago, whether I was happy it was almost over, I would have answered unhesitatingly "yes". I was so ready for this show to be done, more than any show I've ever been in. However, now that it actually is over...I'm not. I miss it. It's sort of like...it's over. And now I don't know what to do.

It's not a longing sort of feeling, like when While the Lights Were Out ended, it's sort of a...I don't know. I don't really want the bazillion hour long rehearsals or the stress or anything back, that's not what I miss. I think it's the community of it that I'm going to miss, that little group of us that understood exactly what the other one was going through, understood the stress, the pressure, and didn't just write it off as "Well, it's your fault you auditioned for this play" I'm going to miss talking to people during chorus about rehearsal, or seeing the people I only ever saw after school. I'm going to miss...I don't know, I'm going to miss something. This show has left a mark on me, a different mark than the sort of mark say, Anne Frank & Me left on me, but a mark. One I'm probably not going to forget anytime soon.

A play is an interesting experience. For me, since I do it a lot, I've learned to just move on afterwards. Yes, I do a bit of complaining in my blog for about a day or so after, but for the most part, I just sort of walk away. For this though, I don't think I'll be able to. It's sort of like I've been running for a while, running fast, frantically, and now I've suddenly come to a stop. It's interesting, It's different, and it's beginning to sound eerily like the speech Reverend Shaw gives in the opening scene.

And so, in his immortal words, I have, in fact, laid down my burden. I no longer have the stress of Footloose on my shoulders, I can return to the world outside of Boemont. I'm free, I guess, to quote yet another song from this show, I'm done. It's over, and here I am.

I need to sleep now, it's nearly one in the morning, and I've just remembered I have to get up very early to sing a really high pitched song in German tomorrow. Hooray. The show must go on, I guess, no matter how confused I might be, the show must go on.

Everybody cut loose,


Thursday, November 29, 2007

Stupid Muses

I have lost the ability to write.

I'm currently suffering what it quite possible the worst writer's block I've ever experienced. I'm only nine pages into a Radio play I promised to write for my friends, and I'm stuck, I can't finish a prompt, I can't write the next chapter to a story I'm supposed to continue, I can't even write down my thoughts properly in a blog without a significant amount of effort.

The Ancient Greeks believed in muses, goddesses that would provide inspiration, and were the source of a writer's story, a musician's music, an artist's artwork, and so on. Great poets and other famous artsy type people would consistently call upon them in their work.

Now, I don't really consider myself to be a great poet, or a great writer, or certainly a great musician (last chair, third trumpet freshman year) so basically, what I have to ask the muses, or really, anyone who's listening:

What the hell is wrong with me?!

Well...ok, maybe not that, entirely. There's nothing hugely wrong with me other than the whole writer's block thing, which isn't really a big deal except that I can't finish that chapter, and I'm bored since I can't write anything. Maybe I'll go draw something, that'll be a laugh.

Cheers all,


Sunday, November 18, 2007

All My Love To Long Ago

The other night over in the UK they had their "Children In Need Appeal" which is basically a big telethon to raise money for children in need. Doctor Who being the awesome show that it is, usually contributes something to the evening, and this year was no exception.

The Doctor Who Children In Need Special this year was a seven minute scene between David Tennant as the Doctor and Peter Davidson, also as the Doctor. That's right, for seven minutes we got to watch the Doctor meet himself. And it was awesome :D

However, this raises a question, as most things do with me. In the scene, it was basically the Doctor running into himself from the past, and it got me thinking, what would I say to myself if I were to meet myself? Say I was walking down the street one day, Water Street, for example, and there, sitting on that bench down by the cemetery near Eli's house, is me. But not me now, since I'm still on the street walking, past-me, let's say...eight grade. Middle school me, age twelve, eight grade, brown hair, 5 foot 8 inches, a weight I will not currently disclose sitting, alone, on a park bench in the middle of downtown. What would I tell her? What would I tell me?

Well...let's just say I've been thinking. Not exactly obsessing, not exactly writing, but thinking about what exactly I would tell myself from four years ago. For some reason, the idea is really interesting. My mom always said that if she could have any supernatural type thing it would be a time machine, she always wants the time machine. I think I might have inherited that.

So, here it is, a letter to myself, a message to my young, somewhat awkward and dejected self sitting on a bench.

Dear Me,

I hated middle school. I hated it with a passion. As you've probably discovered, the only good thing about it was the people I met, and trust me, it was worth it just for that. Usually though, I try not to think about middle school, I try not dwell on it, if I get things wrong, don't kill me. Of course, since you're not really there, I think I'm safe.

At this point it's November of your last year at Cooperative Middle School, you're in the upstairs red pod, Team Starburst, for all of your classes, and your history teacher hits your desk with a ruler everyday to scare you. You've finally got all your friends in the same lunch as you, something which will never happen again, and the only major drama at the moment, is the fact that Amylee, the friend you made last year when you were stuck in a pod with none of your friends, is starting to feel left out now that your old friends are back in your life again. You'll resolve this, of course, because you're smart. You're smarter than you think you are, I promise, and as bad as you might be doing in school right now, you'll do worse if you keep letting it get to you.

The main reason I hated middle school so much was the drama of it. And it wasn't my own drama I hated, as you've probably noticed, it was other people's. I never really caused much of my own drama, it was mainly me, for some bizarre reason, developing somewhat of a messiah complex and deciding I was going to save the world. You can't stand to see someone unhappy, can you? Well, you never will. Granted, you become the cause of people's unhappiness a lot more than you do now, but no matter how much you try not to get into other people's problems, you always do anyway. Don't try to stop, it's annoying, and it doesn't work, so just take it as you go, and keep at it. Some people will love you for it, some people will completely and utterly hate you for it, but we'll get to that later.

You've just met someone, someone who seems slightly insignificant right now, since you consider her someone else's friend, but who is about to play a huge role in your life a little down the road. She's a lot more than she seems, and in a way, helps you figure out that you're a little more than you seem. You're not going to get particuarly close to her till over the summer when, believe it or not, you're going to grow so incredibly close to her as a friend that your friendship will rival the one you have with your best friends. Everything's going to be great, then it's going to suddenly crumble. Just...if I could, I would tell you not to make friends with her, not to speak to her, not to associate with her in anyway, but I can't. Even if I could, I have a feeling I wouldn't. She shapes part of who you are today, and it's not something you'll be able to change much once you hit high school.

Which leads me to another thing, another friend, someone else to warn you about. You have someone else you know, someone you already consider to be a best friend, someone who...well, much of the drama of middle is centered around her. You care about her deeply, but are worried there's nothing you can do for her, nothing that can help her, and nothing to make her see how much you care. Well...it doesn't really get better. And, it's not her fault, in anyway. She's going to leave, she's going to be sent halfway across the world, and you're going to be left helpless to help her, over here. You're going to do something to make her angry, something that makes her so angry it looks like it's never going to end. When you do, don't go to your other friend's house for comfort. Really, don't, it doesn't really help, it only makes things worse.

But, as depressing as all this sounds, it does get better, I promise. I know, you're probably not in the best of emotional states right now, I never was during middle school. I was never happy, I was never particuarly fond of all the drama around me, but I never showed it, you never show it, because you have to be someone's rock. That gets better. I promise. You're not the guidance counselor of the world anymore, if you're anyone's counselor, it's not nearly as earth-shattering as it is now. Drama is not what defines your life after a while, well, emotional drama at least, and you start to move away from it.

You are about to get completely obsessed with Doctor Who. Yes, Doctor Who, that old Sci-Fi show you used to watch with your mom all the time when you were little, and still occasionally do today? The one with the guy and the big box. Well, it's about to become a crucial part of your life. Trust me. You watch it at your uncle's house one night, a new version of it, and you're gone. There's a new Doctor now, two new Doctors to be exact. You adore the first new Doctor at first (that'd be the ninth Doctor, played by Christopher Eccleston) but soon discover the second one, the Tenth Doctor, played by David Tennant. You're attracted to his acting at first, his delivery, his portrayal of the Doctor, but after a while, you notice that he looks really good in a suit, and that's probably when you discover boys.

But really, what it all comes down to is acting. You want to be an actor, don't deny it, I know you do, I remember the years upon years upon years of struggling with that desire, and not being entirely sure what to do with it. That feeling you get when you're backstage, those few times you've gotten to say a line or two on stage, that rush, it never goes away, and after a while, the knowledge that you can't really live without it sinks in and you decide to go for it. As crazy as it sounds, despite all the reasons you shouldn't, all the people telling you it's not "practical" or "worthwhile" or "safe", your parents, the ones that really matter here, surprisingly support you. Sort of. And despite the enormous risks, you go for it.

But can you do it? Can you, who has had gotten nothing but frustrating parts in school musicals being stuck in the back and told to walk on and off at certain times. You who have been forced to sit on the side of the stage and watch other people sing songs and say lines you long to say far more than they could ever know, can you do it? I have no idea. All I know is that it gets better. It really does.

Remember that resolution you made? That promise you wrote in your diary that said that by the time you finished your first year of high school that you would be in a play outside of school? Well, you get it. Seven times, in fact, with more to come. In tenth grade you get your first lead, in a play called While the Lights Were Out, which soon becomes the best play you've ever done. You finally get to play a detective in that one :D And towards the end of that year (please, whoever reads this, please don't shoot me for being vain) you win a "Best Actress" award at school for your part. It's probably the defining moment of your life right now, that award, but don't dwell on it. Don't let it go to your head. Put it on your bookshelf and look at it occasionally, but don't think about it too much. If you let it get to you, you'll get too vain, and people will start thinking you're a prima donna (which, to a certain extent, you are).

But the point is, it gets better. The frustration of all your theater experience up to where you are sort of disappears. You learn to cope with small parts during all your out of school plays at the Leddy Center and the Palace Theater, so by the time you finally get a lead, it's even better. You still get stuck in the chorus for a bit after that, and DJ still gets the lead, but you don't really mind as much. It's not the big tragedy it is where you are now, it's not the end of the world, you don't think you're the worst performer that ever lived, it's just another part. And the weird thing about it is, you like it :)

I can't quite express how much better things get. Not that you have a horrible life now, not that you don't have some fairly rough times in the future, but I do want to tell you, it all gets better. It really does. There's a lot I want to tell you, but don't have enough time or blogspace to do it, so I'm going to end it here. Just keep going, keep it up, keep acting, keep singing, keep helping, keep talking. Take things as they are and don't over think them. Keep an open mind about things and you'll be golden, close it for anything and you're screwed. Live in the moment, don't dwell on the past (well...till you get here) and try not to worry too much about the future. Read "A Christmas Carol" Freshman year, and actually think about it, don't just read it and write the paper at midnight. That never works.

And when you hit that summer, that one after Freshman year, when everything seems terrible, and you have no idea how on Earth there could possibly be anything left to look forward to, there is. There's a lot to look forward to. There always is.

Tell Duffa the cat I said "Hello", and yes, all my love to long ago.

Yours Truely,

Nelly, age 16, from the future.

Oh...and P.S. - When you audition for "Seussical" at Seacoast Rep, for God's sake, don't sing freaking "Let It Snow." Honestly. And learn to say "freaking" correctly, it'll help.



Monday, November 05, 2007

Stupid Online Quizes

So, people keep sending me these funny quiz things you're supposed to take and then post on your Blog. In online role playing, they're called "memes" Unfortunately, since I'm a real person actually posting my actual thoughts and opinions on the world, they're just stupid quiz things. Since I'm currently suffering a complete and utter lack of imagination when it comes to the whole Blog thing, I figured I'd take a few and post the results. All of these were taken on http://www.blogthings.com, in case you want to go take a few yourself. It's actually sort of fun, since the results are so...well, just read mine, you'll get the idea.
You Are a Powdered Devil's Food Donut

A total sweetheart on the outside, you love to fool people with your innocent image.
On the inside you're a little darker, richer, and more complex.
You're a hedonist who demands more than one pleasure at a time.
Decadent and daring, you test the limits of human indulgence.
What Donut Are You?

So...yeah. Apparently, you can tell all that from a donut. It's funny, I would have thought of myself as more of a mixed box of munchkins, a bunch of different flavors thrown together in a box with a bit of jelly smeared all over everything. Sounds sort of like my room, actually, minus the jelly smeared all over the place.

Your Blogging Type is Pensive and Philosophical

You blog like no one else is reading...
You tend to use your blog to explore ideas - often in long winded prose.
Easy going and flexible, you tend to befriend other bloggers easily.
But if they disagree with once too much, you'll pull them from your blogroll!
What's Your Blogging Personality?

Ha! To all the people out there who have ever told me my Blog's just the ramblings of a bored, complaining, often sleep-deprived teenager, Ha! I AM philosophical! And pensive, apparently. But HA!

You Are Buffy the Vampire Slayer

"We saved the world. I say we have to party."
What Superheroine Are You?

Um...last time I checked I didn't slay vampires. Nor did I care what shoes I was wearing while I was doing it...or, rather, while I wasn't doing it. I have a friend who I secretly suspect is a vampire slayer, but I'm not, I'm pretty sure.

You are Agnostic

You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care.
For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine.
You rather focus on what you can control - your own life.
And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you.
What's Your Religious Philosophy?

You know, as far as stupid online quizzes go, this one's pretty accurate. Of course, it only asked me seven questions. But that's pretty much my entire Religious viewpoint in a nutshell, I've been calling myself agnostic for a while now.

Your Linguistic Profile:

45% General American English

35% Yankee

10% Dixie

5% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwester
What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Awww...they don't have New England hick as an option? Seriously though, I've been told I have the most generic accent in the world. I was fully expecting something like "General American English" on this. I am wondering a bit on the 10% Dixie though...what is Dixie, anyway?

You Are 100% Tortured Genius

You totally fit the profile of a tortured genius. You're uniquely brilliant - and completely misunderstood.
Not like you really want anyone to understand you anyway. You're pretty happy being an island.
Are You a Tortured Genius?

HA! I am SO a tortured genius! You can just tell by my utterly brilliant and insightful (sorry, philosophical and pensive) Blog entires! HA!

You Are a Ham Sandwich

You are quiet, understated, and a great comfort to all of your friends.
Over time, you have proven yourself as loyal and steadfast.
And you are by no means boring. You do well in any situation - from fancy to laid back.

Your best friend: The Turkey Sandwich

Your mortal enemy: The Grilled Cheese Sandwich
What Kind of Sandwich Are You?

Can I just point out that I don't even eat ham? And do you really think I am in any way "quiet" or "understated"? I mean, I can understand my mortal enemy being the grilled cheese sandwich, being lactose intolerant, that's sort of inevitable. But my best friend is the turkey? I don't like cold cut turkey either. I'm a peanut butter person, myself, when it comes to sandwiches.

You Are 100% Psychic

You are so very psychic.
But you already predicted that, didn't you?
You have "the gift" - and you use it daily to connect with others.
You're very tapped into the world around you...
Just make sure to use your powers for good!
Are You Psychic?

Ok...so not only am I a ham sandwich, I'm also psychic. Wow.

I think this is probably a good time for me to stop, as these quizzes seem to get more and more ridiculous as it gets later into the night (It's almost midnight!) So, I hope you enjoyed these...er, insightful looks into my personality. Go take some for yourself now. If anything, it kills about an hour of your time.

Gotta go learn what an "acolyte of the flux" is.

Nos da,


Saturday, October 27, 2007

Five Minutes

"Time is the worst place, so to speak, to get lost in..." - Douglas Adams

Over the summer, on that infamous, not-blogged-about camping trip I took, I went to the Cornish Glass Museum and, after breaking several glass flowers in the gift shop, bought an hourglass. When turning the hourglass upside down, the sand inside is supposed to fall to the bottom over the course of five minutes, meaning if you need to time yourself for five minutes and have lost your stopwatch, you simply need to the turn over the hourglass and you have five minutes.

I wish.

Yesterday I stood in front of my bookshelf and turned the hourglass over. I realized I had never actually seen all of the sand fall to the bottom, I had turned it many times, but had never actually stayed to watch the entire thing. So I began to, and was about halfway finished when I had to leave. I was working at Strawberry Banke yesterday, as a roleplayer for their "Ghosts on the Banke" event they do every Halloween, I had to be in Portsmouth by 4:30, and since I had just gotten back from co-leading my sister's Brownie meeting which was suppose to end at the same time, I realized suddenly, I couldn't stand and watch the sand in the hourglass fall for five minutes. I didn't have five minutes to just stand and watch something. I had a few minutes to collect my stuff, drop off stuff, and put on some deodorant, but not five minutes to just stand still.

This has been my life lately, especially in the past week. I'm in the chorus in my school's production of Footloose, which rehearses everyday after school till 5 PM, I had to prepare for a HUGE debate in my debate class, which trust me, is a lot more intense than it sounds, plus, to add to all of that, I'm in a scene from Angels in America for a scene study at the New Hampshire Theater Project (Sr. Rep thing) I'm a travel agent, Ms. Lies (yes, it was originally Mr. Lies, for anyone who's actually seen/read/heard of Angels in America), who is someone else's hallucination, and therefore appears and reappears at random.

So, between all of this, and choir, and all my other schoolwork, that five minutes to watch the sand fall in my hourglass, just hasn't been there. I've had a few days this week where I haven't been able to get to a computer at all (which is, for me, a big deal, I can usually steal one for at least a few minutes of wikipedia-ing or checking e-mail, though I usually don't have time to answer it) Most days I've come home from whatever it is I've been doing and fallen onto my bed and almost instantly fallen asleep (another somewhat unusual, though welcomed, thing for me) I just...I haven't had time for anything, lately, anything at all.

Apart from all of that, I was also planning something. I was watching something the other day, last week, where they were interviewing people about their childhood interests and how they influenced their career choice. It was a cool show. So, in that style, I decided to do something similar, interviewing people about their childhoods and how they affect their lives today, and post the interviews on my Blog. I interviewed three different people over the course of the week, and haven't had time to post them. I swear to God. Or...whoever. Anyway, I apologize to the people I interviewed, I'll work on that as soon as I can.

Right now, I've got a second night of Strawberry Bankeing to do tonight, then tomorrow I have to go to church (I have a solo in the choir) then I'm going to a play with my grandparents, then I have to do about five hundred pounds of homework, and...it's crazy. Even at this second, I'm looking at the clock, and realizing that if I don't leave now, I'm going to be late for Strawberry Banke.

Einstein once said time was relative, that it was an illusion. If that's true, why are our lives so dictated by it?

Gotta go,


Monday, October 15, 2007

The Environment

So, I don't know if you saw the banner at the bottom of my welcome blurb on the left side of this page, but today, Monday, October 15, 2007 is Blog Action Day. Hooray! For those of you in the dark on what Blog Action Day actually is, scroll down the page a bit and click on that gorgeous banner I mentioned earlier, that'll take you to the main Blog Action Day Headquarters. For those of you who are too lazy to do all that and just want me to get on with the entry, the basic gist of it is one day a year every person with a Blog logs on and writes one entry about the same cause. This years cause? The Environment. The entry can be about anything and everything as long as somewhere, somehow there is something involving the environment somewhere on October 15. So, in honor of the day, I give you...um, the environment.

Yay for the environment! Woohoo!

To be completely, totally, and perfectly honest, I have absolutely no idea what to write about for this. I've been thinking about it for a while, at least a week or so when I registered my Blog, but can't think of anything to write. I asked a few people today at lunch, and as I expected came out with more than a few somewhat odd responses.

The major environmental topic amongst the lunch table today was, oddly enough, Al Gore. Apparently, there is a significant amount of controversy surrounding his recent winning of the Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions to the environmental cause, a prize which, most seem to agree, he should not have been awarded. Now, to be honest, I have almost no opinion over this whatsoever. I care about world peace, I am a big supporter of the Nobel Peace Prize, but I think of it sort of like an audition. If you're disappointed this time around, if you didn't get the part or the Peace Prize winner you were hoping for, there's always next time. The focus should be peace, anyway, if you're really unhappy with who won the Peace Prize this time around, go out into the world and do something to win it yourself. Just make sure it's environmentally friendly :)

Another hot topic amongst teenagers and the environment was, of course, global warming. When isn't Global Warming a major environmental issue? There was heated debate today over whether or not Global Warming was real. It sort of reminded me of a scene from Anne Frank & Me when the entire class is in this huge argument over whether or not the Holocaust was real. Of course, in that situation, it went undecided and the main character got hit by a car, sent back to the 1940's, in France, as a Jewish girl, during the Nazi occupation and was later captured and killed in a gas chamber. In this situation, all that could possibly happen is that freshman kid from lunch getting sent forward in time to future where he is captured and killed by the Greenhouse Effect...or something.

So, since it's nearly 11:30 and Blog Action Day is almost over, that's my entry on the environment. Granted, it's not unique, it's not clever, it's not even really very interesting, but at the moment, it's all I got. I did a show today, went to a full day of school, went to my first rehearsal for yet another play, Footloose, and came home and babysat. I really wanted to write something a bit more thought provoking...but I can't. I'm sorry.

In other news, it's also apparently National Fine Arts Day. Hooray!

Be kind to the environment everyone, Earth's my favorite of all planets (other than Pluto) I'd rather it not be destroyed. Plus, what would the Lorax say? He speaks for the trees! He'd probably have a stroke if we destroyed a shrubbery, let alone the entire planet. Please be good, don't litter, drive minimally, don't let out toxic gases into the atmosphere, and please, please, please, just remember the environment once in a while. Whether you live in a cold, rainy, and often bitter environment like I do, or a warm, sunny, hot environment like a few people I know, take care of it, don't let it go to waste. Care for the environment, or the Lorax shall come after you in the night, provided there's still a night to come after you in.

Let the records show that I used a Lorax reference. Are you happy Freshman at the lunch table?

Happy Blog Action Day all,


Saturday, October 13, 2007

Halloween Questions

I found these questions posted on Blogthings.com for people to answer in their blogs, and thought I'd give it a go. So, here it is!

Do you think Halloween costumes for kids and teenagers are too provocative these days?
A few of them are. Things like the "slutty nurse" or the "cleavage vampire" yeah, they're a bit out there. For the most part though, little kids seem to not dress like that. Around here, I haven't seen many belly showing, over exposed costumes on kids during trick-or-treating, but then most of the time it's really just too cold here in October to show much skin. Maybe out where it's warmer, there are more provacative costumes, but here you'll die of hypothermia.

How old were you when you stopped trick-or-treating? Do you miss it?
I was about 14 when I stopped trick-or-treating, really, and I still went out in costume to take my sister around the neighborhood. To me, you're never too old to dress up in funny costumes and run around asking for candy, it's a personal choice when you want to stop or not. I still go out with my friends, both of whom dress up with me, and we take my little sister out as sort of an excuse to go trick-or-treating. We don't ask for candy anymore, though sometimes they'll give it to us anyway which is nice (NEVER refuse free candy) but for the most part we mainly just wander around the neighborhood all night in funny costumes all night and make fun of the people who were too chicken to do it.

Do you think Halloween is too commercial these days? Do you miss classic halloween costumes or traditions from your childhood?
There's always the fear of a holdiay becoming too "commercial" which I think is completely ridiculous since it only becomes commercial if you let it. The basic tradition of dressing up in a costume, going from door to door and asking for candy is still there, and always will be unless every in the world unanimously says, "This is stupid why are we doing this?" and stops all at the same time. Yes, people are wearing more store bought costumes as opposed to making their own, and decorations from Wal Mart are getting more and more elaborate, but I think it's all a part of the natural evolution of our culture. Things change, things have always changed, Halloween and holiday traditions in general have been changing since the concept of holidays were invented, and if store bought costumes and elaborate Wal Mart "insta-decorations" are a part of this, than so be it. Embrace it, don't complain about it, and make the changes your own. Speaking as someone who has worn both handmade and storebought costumes, and had great satisfaction with both, I really don't think "commercialism" is anything really worth worrying about.

What's the first Halloween costume that you remember wearing?
I have vauge memories of being Princess Starina in either pre-school or kindergarden. I think it may have been my last year of pre-school, since I remember showing up in my costume for the big "Halloween Parade" we were going to do around the neighborhood my pre-school was in, only to be told that I was late and that they had already done it. I was very disapointed, if I'm remembering right, but I think they offered to do something else special a little later, since I was already in costume...I don't know. But that's the first costume I remember, my Princess Starina costume my mom made from this shiny magenta fabric and an old doily spray painted silver. I think we may have painted some stars on it too. It was your typical fairy princess outfit, you know, the kind every little girl wears for Halloween at least once. I think I may have worn it again though, since I think I was Princess Starina during kindergarden too, though that might be the year I was Sailor Moon...gah, this is difficult...

What's the scariest movie you've ever seen?
Probably The Ring which I've actually seen twice, both times because a friend was watching it. The first time I was spending the night at the house of a friend I don't really see much (she lives far away) and there was actually a well in the backyard. I walked around my house for a week turning on televisions and not answering the phone. I babysitted at this huge house about a week later, middle of the night, kids were asleep, alone in this big dark mansion-like house, and I got a call from this person who, in a raspy voice, said "Seven Days to live" after I said Hello. I screamed bloddy murder and dropped the phone. It turned out to be my friend (obviously) who I was about ready to kill till the kid I was babysitting came downstairs and asked what I was doing. Then I had to clean up my language. The second time I watched it, it went a lot smoother. I knew what was coming, and what to expect so it wasn't quite as frightening. I was a sleepover that night with a bunch of friends and we found an unlabled tape after the movie under the TV. One of my friends and I wanted to watch it to see what it was, but everyone else ran upstairs in terror and told us not to send the copy we would have to make to them. Turned out to be a talk show tape or something. Very anticlimactic.

Monday, October 08, 2007


I would like you all at this moment to raise a glass. I don't care if you don't celebrate Oktoberfest, I don't care if you don't have a glass, and I certainly don't care if you don't care, but right now I'm calling a toast, so be ready.

A toast! To something very precious, something that has stayed by me through thick and thin alike, something that though has frequently been gripped by the icy cold hands of death on more than one occasion has always managed to resurrect itself and remain true and reliable even in it's final waking hours. It is something that will be dearly missed, and shall never be forgotten. And so with those words I raise my glass to Lazarus, my brilliant and now deceased laptop, who on October 4, 2007 downloaded it's final file and died for the last time. May it rest in peace.

To Lazarus!

*Everyone drinks (alcoholic or non-alcoholic, your choice)*

And while we're toasting, as is the custom for Oktoberfest, let's throw in a toast for a few other people, hm? Here we go:

To Mr. P: My Driver's Ed. instructor, who thank GOD I only have to drive with one more time and then I'll never have to see him again. To Mr. P!

To My Cousin Miriam: Who just got a part in a play and has had all of one rehearsal, and who happens to have a really awesome green trench coat, and a scarf made from old sweater sleeves. She plans to take Bat Boy to the prom, and earlier this year stood five feet away from Mo Rocka(sp). May she continue to grace the world with her awesomeness. To Miriam!

To Antipholus of Syracuse: Poor guy, lands in a country has his money stolen, is mistaken for someone else, gets assaulted by someone else's wife, and can't figure out if he's on Earth, in Heaven, or in Hell. Stuck in a strange Comedy of Errors (and played by David Tennant), this guy deserves a toast. To Antipholus!

To My Friend Ophelia: Fellow Who-fanatic, co-author, and friend. Who can write TV scripts like the best of them, and who will one day have a hit show on the BBC or some major American network and become far richer than any of the rest of us can possibly imagine. May she be successful in any and all creative endeavors, and may she please forgive me for not having the next chapter done yet. (Sorry about that) To Ophelia!

To My Father's Pick-up Truck: Which unfortunately had to be given up around the same time we lost Lazarus. To replace it though, we got a cute Scion standard shift car also known as one of those "box-cars" that's blue. Cute car, but we will still miss the truck. To the Truck!

To Donna The Giant's Wife: This is a woman who needs a good drink. Granted, the actress playing her is not yet old enough for a good drink, but let's just say we're talking about the character for now. Her husband treats her horribly, she's forced to do servant's work, and still finds the time to attempt to save Jack from the giant. From her point of view, and mine, this woman is not an ogre, but a saint. I've also decided that she deserves a name, as she's just written in the script as "Wife" So I raise a glass. To Donna!

To My Friend Chris: Who not only does an absolutely amazing portrayal of Penelope the cow in Jack and the Beanstalk, but who painted the most brilliant cobblestones I have ever seen in my life. Who is currently going through the exact same amount of craziness as I am right now, balancing both this play and Driver's Ed, with the added pressures of various musical lessons, marching band, and probably several higher level classes than me. May he live through this week, and continue to be amazing. To Chris!

To Luciano Pavoratti: Whose name I have most likely misspelled, he popularized opera and was for some reason greatly revered among most of my extended family. He will be greatly missed. To Luciano!

To David Tennant: For just generally being David Tennant. This one's fairly self-explanatory to those who know me, I think. May he continue to be an amazing actor, Doctor, and Hamlet. To David Tennant!

To Michelle and Jason: My friend Aimee's mother and now step-father who got married last weekend in an absolutely gorgeous wedding. We toasted them about four times at the wedding itself, but since we're toasting now, I figured it would be appropriate to do it again. I would just like to add, however, that I still think my apparently "accidental" catching of the bouquet was planned, in some way. I still have it, on my bookshelf in a vase, that and the guarder. May the two of them (Michelle and Jay, not the bouquet and the guarder) have many, many, many happy years together. To Michelle and Jay!

To Anyone Else I May Have Forgotten to Toast: It's nearly midnight now, and I have school tomorrow, so to anyone else I've ran out of time to toast, but deserves a toast, I toast you! To All of You!

*All Drink (again, alcoholic, or non)*

Happy Oktoberfest all, may you all eat, drink and be merry this fine October. Huzzah!


Friday, September 28, 2007

Time, Hamlet, and Civics

So I'm sitting in civics class realizing I haven't posted in a while, and that since I have nothing to do, I should probably post something. So...here I am.

The reasons for my lack of Blog-updating activity are many and varied, and if you read the subtext of my last entry, you should be able to figure it out for yourself. Basically, I'm in Jack and the Beanstalk, I'm taking driver's ed (finally), I'm trying to get all my homework done, and I've also just gotten into the Senior Youth Repretory Company of the New Hampshire Theater Project.

Oh yeah! Probably should have mentioned that! The audition I'd been preparing for since god only knows when, finally happened! I memorized a whole page an a half of Shakespeare for that, a speech from Henry IV part II, and I got in!!!! :D

However, that leaves me with yet another thing to do, which as you can probably tell by my Blogging activity of late, isn't exactly a good thing. I had every intention of writing before school started again, I had this awesome entry planned out about a trip to upstate New York that involved Bat Boy, glass museums, and Irish guys in hot tubs, but I was too busy.


Ok, so I was going for AH!! or AG!!! or something, but I sort of got it wrong. Sorry about that, everyone.

Anyway, I wish I had more to say, but I really don't. I wish I had a witty story, or an interesting tidbit of observation or even a review of some movie or something, but I don't. I really really don't. The closest thing I've got is the fact that I accidentally hit Jack in the head with a mop last week, and that was just an accident! I also mastered the kazoo! I can parallel park! And. oh, wait for it, I bought a dress! oOoOo, I'm the height of excitement, aren't I?

Of course, I have to be careful what I say on here now, as I've recently found out this Blog is read by far more people than I thought it was, most of whom are in someway related to me, and could quite possibly come and hunt me down...or something. Not that I think any of my relatives would (though, you never know...)

Also, more proof that I barely have any time to do anything, I haven't been able to comment on anything Doctor Who related lately! So many things have happened, David Tennant's staying, Freema Agyeman's leaving (though coming back) and Catherine Tate is coming back as Donna. David Tennant's going to play Hamlet, for God's sakes, HAMLET!!!! The only bad thing about this is that I'm not going to be able to see him, and I haven't even been able to write an entry complaining about it! I swear! This is madness!!!

So, my friend next to me desperately wants me to look for an article to do an article review on (since I have the laptop) which means I probably have to go. I finally get a few minutes of free time, and I still can't write a whole entry. O, what porrents are these?!

...ten points to anyone that can define "porrents" it was in my monolouge

Gotta go to Google,


Monday, September 17, 2007

Nelly and the Beanstalk

Long ago, in a small village in the land of New Hampshire, there lived a young woman called Nelly. Nelly was a very nice young woman, she was funny, kind, happy, ravishingly beautiful, if I do say so myself, and of course, responsible.

Now Nelly, apart from feeding the chickens and skipping merrily through the fields and such, had one simple little job to do as often as she could. Nelly was a "blogger" which meant that every so often Nelly would have to journey up the stairwell of her large, wooden house and sit in front of her computer to type up a Blog entry. Nelly did this as often as she could, as she knew she had many loyal readers wishing to read her remarkable and wholly insightful thoughts on the universe, until one day, everything changed.

One day Nelly was skipping merrily along, on her way to dutifully write a nice Blog entry for her readers about her lovely vacation with her family (and Bat Boy) and about her first few days at school, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a great, enormous beanstalk grew out of the ground in front of her, blocking the pathway to the computer. Nelly regarded the beanstalk with both fear, awe, and disappointment at this terrible cliche.

"What could this be?" Nelly asked the air, "Why is there a beanstalk trying to block my way? Whatever could this mean?" As she grew closer to the beanstalk, she began to gasp as she realized what it truly was.

"Why this beanstalks made of homework assignments!" cried Nelly with a shock, "it's every homework assignment I've had since the school year began! Here's the debate papers, the Spanish words, the algebra problems, my chemistry lab, my Beowulf report...it's even got that project I did for civics! Golly gee, do you think maybe I should climb it?"

And so Nelly began the long and tediously boring climb up the homework beanstalk. Staying steady through most of the journey, though slipping slightly on the algebra problems, she began to think her prospects were bright for now, as she finally neared the top of the long and winding educational plant. As she stepped off the beanstalk however, she realized she'd suddenly found herself in a place much worse than she could have possible imagined. She heard footsteps.

"FE FI FO FUM!!" A voice shouted from nowhere, "I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN UNEXPERIENCED DRIVER!!!"

"Oh no!" said Nelly suddenly as the loud footsteps grew closer, "It can't be!" A tall man thundered into the room, large and covered in authoritative looking badges and saftey equipment, he regarded Nelly with as much respect as one would typically give to a safety pin. Feircely as he could, he banged his fist on the table before him.


"Never!" shouted Nelly back at the giant, but then suddenly found herself surrounded by fierce, gleaming drivers manuals. The manuals surrounded her, till she was trapped inside a cold, hard, driving related prison. "You'll never get away with this!" she shouted from her dungeon.

"OF COURSE I WILL!!!" shouted the giant, "I AM THE DRIVER'S ED GIANT, I REIGN SUPREME OVER ALL OTHER FORMS OF ACTIVITIES, I AM THE FINAL PRIORITY, AND ALL THAT SHALL MATTER IN YOUR LIFE FOR FIVE STRAIGHT WEEKS!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!" And with the sound of the giant's laughter, the homework beanstalk on top of which Nelly was currently standing on, began to collapse beneath her, sending her spiraling down a deep, dark pit of homework, essays, driver's manuals and observation hours.

"NOOOOOO!!!" Nelly shouted helplessly as she spiraled down further, and further into the pit of unfinished work and hours. Then suddenly, almost as suddenly as the tale began, she landed with a thud on her bedroom floor, her laptop sitting directly in front of her. She looked at the date at the bottom of the screen, and realized with a gasp that nearly an entire month had gone by since she was blocked by the terrible beanstalk. "Oh my," she said gasping, "my readers!"

And so, boys and girls, that is the tale of Nelly and the beanstalk, the true reason this blog has not been updated in over a month. The Driver's Ed. part of it is still in the process of being slain, but the beanstalk of homework was eventually destroyed.

The moral of the story? Never decide to audition for a children's theater play at exactly the same time you've got a thousand other things going on. Remember that children, it's definitely a life lesson.

And Nelly, the laptop, and the Driver's Ed giant/instructor all lived relatively decently ever after. The End.

...or is it?


Saturday, August 18, 2007

Is It Raining With You?

Today I heard the single most terrifyingly wrong, despicable, horrible thing I have ever had the misfortune to hear over a restaurant speaker. It was wrong on so many levels, and should never be or have been heard by human ears. If you should ever have the misfortune to hear this horrifying sound, my suggestion to you would be to get out and run to the underground bunker I'm sure you all have hidden in your backyard.

What I'm talking about is, of course, Eurythmics elevator music.

Yes, you read correctly Eurythmics elevator music. I was sitting in burger king today (making this yet another reason to never go there again) when as I was about to bite into my tendercrisp chicken sandwich, I heard the faint sound of elevator music.

Of course, elevator music is completely normal in this kind of setting, fast food restaurants play elevator-style music all the time. But the longer I listened, the more familiar the song started to become. By the time I was half way done with my sandwich, I have become sure I had heard that song before. A second later, I gasped, dropping a French fry after suddenly matching lyrics to the song:

Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion

My mother looked at me concerned and asked with the problem was. I darted my eyes, looking for another sign of the apocalypse.

I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean

To my complete and utter astonishment, no one was panicking. No one was rushing around towards their underground safe houses, no was proclaiming that life as we knew it was over, no one was even commenting on the lack of actual words in the song. It was completely calm. It was as if the worst thing that could possibly happen to 80's music hadn't just been happening over their heads, it was as if...nothing was a problem.

I, of course, recognized the crisis immediately and relayed it to my mother who, very calmly and as if there were not an imminent threat to society happening, proceeded to start quietly singing the words with the song.

Is is raining with you?

It most certainly was raining with me. Life as we know it has just ended, and no one has noticed. Clearly, I am more observant in these types of situations, and know when to go undercover in a crisis. Of course, the fact that I am not in an underground safe house, but in fact, am sitting here writing a slightly bizarre Blog entry when I should be packing to go camping, would seem to indicate that I am at least equally as unobservant, if not even more so than, the masses. Of course, the masses don't have a slightly insane mother who has been obsessively listing and handing out "pre-camping jobs" all day, and who has completely ignored the Eurythmics crisis, in favor of buying tiny bottles of ketchup instead of running away. Or perhaps this just isn't as big of a crisis as I had previously thought.

But seriously...Eurythmics elevator music? What?

Going camping, see you all in a week, hope it doesn't rain,


Sunday, August 12, 2007

The Peak of Exhaustion

It is now 11:32 PM, well...11:33 now, apparently, and I am awake.

There is no possible reason on this Earth that I should be awake at this particular moment. I am so exhausted right now that I can barely see the words I am currently typing on screen. I've just done four straight days of the most emotionally and physically exhausting show I've ever done in my life, and I'm running on about three hours of sleep from the night before. Everyone else in my house is asleep, my parents, my sister, even my cat (which is saying something, for Columbus the cat, I swear he's ADHD)

Why, I ask you now, am I not?

I would, in my slightly semi-conscious state, like to announce that as of today, at around 3:45 PM, I am officially no longer either Christina Goulet or, regretfully, Chrissy Gullet. The famed plastic compact mirror used by Chrissy for the entirety of the first act will, in fact, be burned as soon as I can find a way to do it, and the fifteen pounds of pink, sparkly lipgloss will be used in some sort of amusing prank on my sister. I'm thinking of keeping the bright magenta lipstick worn by Christina in acts two and three, though I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do with it. I was, unfortunately, not allowed to keep the long Doctor Who-like scarf she wears at the end of act three, or the rather awesome brown beret. I was, however, allowed to keep the script, which was more than I can say for a few different plays I've been in.

At this point, I think I might faint if I keep typing any longer. I don't think I've been this tired since my first all-day rehearsal at the Palace, which coincidentally was also my first full three days of midterms...also very exhausting if I remember right. I'd like to write more, and I haven't written in a while, but I don't think I can hold out much longer without snoring. I'll write more at some point, I promise.

From the brink of unconsciousness,


Saturday, August 04, 2007

Happy Chair Day

August 4, 2007. Exactly one year ago, in about...two hours, I did the singular act that would not only destroy a friendship and cause a whole day panic among several other friends, but which would shape the actions, or at least some of the action, of my life and year to come.

I moved a chair.

Yes, at the time I had no idea what this singular act would lead to, what madness was to follow. Indeed, I had thought I was being helpful. How utterly wrong I was.

Apparently, by moving that chair for my friend, who is now apparently no longer my friend, it was in turn signifying that I thought she was weak, that she needed special treatment, that my attitude towards her, not just in that particular moment but in life in general, was condescending and "ununderstanding" (which spell check has just confirmed is not actually a word) How was I to know that moving a chair so she'd have more room meant all that? I don't know. But I do know that doing that was the last, and final straw for my friend, who has not spoken to me since.
It has now been an entire year since the incident, and I am still the antithesis of evil. I swear, I know I shouldn't still be thinking about it, but it's difficult when you've gone a whole year having someone hate you this much (and I mean hate) and then suddenly find yourself one year later, and nothing's changed. Not a single day has gone by this year (and trust me, I'm being literal again) where I haven't thought about this at least once.

And now, one year later, what am I doing today? I'm getting killed by Nazi oppression in a gas chamber onstage in Haverill. There's an irony there, but I'm not entirely sure what it is.

In other news, my cousin Miriam can come with me camping!!!! I know many of you might not know who that is, or even care that she can come, but I know for a fact that she reads this blog, and I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY excited that she can come, so I thought I'd mention that. :D

And now, I think I'll go toast to camping, or chairs, or plays, or just something in celebration of the day. I've got twenty minutes till I have to go (thank you twenty) which is just enough time to pour myself something (non-alcoholic of course, I'm not there yet) and toast.

Happy Chair Day everyone, may you not move chairs and end friendships.


Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Breaking Character

I haven't written in a while, I know. The main reason for this, of course, being that nothing particuarly interesting has happened to me lately. I went to a fitting today for Anne Frank & Me, I slept over at my friend Natasha's house Sunday night, my other friend lost her job because her boss is a jerk so we took her out to lunch, my sister got another bird, and I finally saw Gone With The Wind.

Really, that's about it.

It's more than had previously happened to me, which was absolutely nothing, but it's still not really Blog entry worthy. I had thought of something I was going to write about the other day when I was out for the "boss is a jerk" lunch, and told myself to turn into a blog entry...but I can't remember what it was. Clearly, it was a lost opportunity to write some sort of literary brilliance that would be remembered for generations to come. Either that, or it was about Scarlett O' Hara. The world may never know.

There are, however, far, FAR worse things that could be happening to me than just being bored. Trust me, I know. Yesterday we did the scenes in the cattle car on the way to Auschwitz, and the scenes in the gas chambers, it was probably the most frightening thing I've done so far. It was fun, and it was challenging, but it was scary as hell.

Can you imagine being shoved into a crowded, hot, cattle cart, packed in with tons of people who you don't really like and have no desire to talk to, on the the way to God only knows where, while being guarded by loud, angry soldiers with guns? At that point, you're not even sure if you're going to live past the next day. They tell you you're going to a work camp, that you're just going to be doing some free labor, and you want to beleive it, you desperately want to beleive that's all that's going to happen to you, but you still can't shake those rumors from the back of your mind, those rumors that they take you into a large room at the camp, separated by gender, told to strip, told it's only a shower, and then the gas is turned on. No matter how sure you are of where you're going, no matter how comfortable, or how optimistic you are in the situation, that thought that you could be instantly killed at any moment never leaves your mind.

Now, imagine that, imagine all of that happening, and imagine being completely alone. My character spends most of the play alone, she's not well liked because she's so abnoxious, she doesn't really like anyone else, and by the time we're in the 1940's she's also starting to beleive she's better than the Jewish people, just because she's not Jewish. Needless to say, this doesn't grant her many friends. She talks about having a family, so we know she's got someone, but by the end of the play, during the cattle car scenes, and the gas chamber scenes, Christina (my character) appears to have...no one.

Most of the characters have a friend or a family member to huddle with, or cower with, but my character doesn't have anyone. She's completely alone, surrounded by people she doesn't like and doesn't understand, on her way to what I think she is assuming to be her death. Can you imagine that? It's terrifying. Or at least, it must have been. I'm only playing a part, I'm only showing my take on what happened, past events made slightly less brutal for stage, It's not like I'm actually there, no matter how much it may have felt like it.

Although, isn't that what acting is? Trying to imagine you're there, and to convey that image to the audience? The more you feel it, the more real it looks. Which is a good thing to a certain extent, makes it more entertaining and beleivable to the audience. However, there's always that fear of getting too wrapped up in a role, wondering if one day when the director says cut and you have to break character, you won't be able to. It's not a big thing, I've never met a single person in my life who's had trouble going back to being themselves, I've never had an issue with it. But then, who really knows?

So that's my life, mixed in with a bit of Chrissy/Christina's life. Intense stuff, huh? I think I'm going to go read some stupid teen-girl book that someone gave me, something completely mindless and happy to offset...well, you know. That.

Have a good night,


Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Strawberry Rain

Sounds like a bad love song, doesn't it? I promise this entry won't have anything to do with cheesy love songs, I just needed to combine the two most interesting things happening to me right now, or at least, the two most significant.

First off, it's raining. I love rain, it's my favorite kind of weather. Just thought I'd point that out.

Second, and probably more crutial, is me. I am now, officially, as of yesterday afternoon, a strawberry blond. I wasn't always that way, trust me. Before yesterday my hair was about as generic brown as you can get, and had been since I was born. I had always been sort of happy with my hair color, I never really gave it a second thought. I never envied other hair colors, never wished it was different, never even thought about dying it. And then came the play.

I am currently in the P.O.V. (that's point of view) Stage Company's production of Anne Frank & Me in Haverhill, Massachusetts. I have a small part, not too many lines, I'm only in the begining of the play, but it's a part and I like it. I'm playing a character who starts off the play named Chrissy, and is a popular, annoying, racist, Holocaust denier who is incapable of forming her own opinions (and I think is somewhat jealous of the main character's ability to dance). She's basically an all around terrible person to be around, and is about the only type of person I would not be able to stand. Narrow-mindedness drives me insane, people who insist on trying to prove a point that's a.) wrong, and b.) isn't their own opinion, such as for example "The Holocaust never happened" or "every person in X-religion is a terrorist" both of which they heard from their father's racist friend at work who must be correct because he's "pre-med" or something...GAH! They're about the only kind of people I really, literally, loath. Just be open-minded about the world, and I'll like you fine, whoever you might be. Effectively, I am playing the very kind of person I despise.

Which to be perfectly honest, I'm ok with. Anyway, that's beside the point.

So after I play "Chrissy the racist Holocaust denier" the main character gets hit by a car, and so of course gets transported back in time to France, in the Holocaust, as a Jewish girl. The people she knows from modern times take on somewhat different roles, such as her principal becoming her father (sketchy) and her English teacher becoming her mother (very sketchy). As her worst enemy type person in modern times, in the 1940's I'm one of her friends, Christina. Who, though not being as stupid and ignorant as her modern day counterpart, still follows the Nazi's rules and gets nervous and scared when Jews have radios. There are echos of her previous self in Christina, but all and all, she is a completely different person.

What all of this of course means is, I need to be blond. My character is specifically not Jewish, however, with my curly brown hair and various other facial features, I apparently look more Jewish than the girl playing the specifically Jewish character. Oops. The solution; dye my hair blond so that not only do I look more like a ditzy popular girl (and less like an internet/sci-fi geek) but I also look specifically (stereotypically) non-Jewish. Now all I need is blue eyes, too bad mine aren't at the moment.

The color of my hair is scientifically (in the world of hair sylists) called "Strawberry blond". I like it, it's different. It's not quite bleach blond, it's not like Paris Hilton or Rose on Doctor Who, it more of a gold color. It's darker than you would expect. It's the first time I've ever done something this drastic for a play, thought I've sort of secretly always wanted to. On every audition form they ask you if you would be willing to change your appearance for the show in anyway, and I always check yes, but they've never asked me to. It's been a bit disapointed, I always thought it would kind of fun to have to change my appearance for a play. Now I finally get to.

It's different, I'll say that now. Everytime I walk past a mirror or a window, or anything with a reflection and catch a glimpse of myself, I do a double take. So far, being blond hasn't been any more or less fun than being a brunette, and I'm finding I'm no more stupid than I used to be. I'm not entirely sure where this stereotype originated from, or what caused it, but I have a feeling I'll be doing some research on that tonight. After I study Holocaust denial.

It's like playing a part, walking a mile in someone's shoes. Evertime you play a part you discover what it's like to be another person and that's what I find continually facinating about acting, getting a chance to see the world from a different perspective. Sometimes the perspective is more inteligent, like Alma Threedle, sometimes it's slightly narrow like, Chrissy and sometimes, you're not even looking at the same world, Seussical. You would think that seeing the world as a blond wouldn't be much different than seeing the world as a brunette. You're wrong. Any change you make for yourself is the change to look at the world a bit differently, no matter how small the change is. It's what makes life interesting. Like rain.

Have you ever noticed that if anything exciting happens, anything tragic or dramatic, or just different happens during a rainstorm. Anything can happen in the rain, any emotion, any feeling, any drama, it can all happen in the rain. On a sunny, it's just non-stop happy, and who wants that? Live life differently, walk in the rain, dye your hair, look at it all from a new perspective.

You can hear the rain pouring on the roof...love it.

Newly blond,


Sunday, June 24, 2007

Destroying the Earth - Musical Choices?

So, last night's episode of Doctor Who, big huh? I have friends who are convinced they are going to die of anticipation having to wait a whole week for the next episode. I won't give too much away (it only seems like I am, I'm not really, just wait and see) but I will say one thing, that ending, where the "enemy" or "big baddie" of the season is effectively killing everything (or, at least 1/10 of the population of the world) and the song playing is "Voodoo Child" by Rogue Traders...wow. All I can say is WOW, that was amazing. Which leads me to the big question of this entry...

What song would you destroy the Earth to?

Say you had somehow, under purely fictional/metaphorical/hypothetical circumstances, become a sadistic super villain, and had taken it upon yourself to destroy the Earth. What song would play in the background of our imminent destruction? Surely, this would be a very serious decision to make beforehand, one must have the proper mood before they can go blowing things up. Ask anyone.

I suppose, it probably depends on why exactly you were destroying all of humanity. For example, if you were angry at your boyfriend/girlfriend/significant other for cheating on you, and had decided to take out your anger on the whole of the Earth, then you might choose something like Back to Black by Amy Winehouse. If you were destroying us because you generally hated humanity, and had been planning the destruction of all humans since the day you found out you were one, you might go with Thanks for the Memories by Fall Out Boy (for that ironic/sarcastic touch) Of course, you could just have destroyed the Earth on accident, to which I would suggest the ever-popular Oops, I Did It Again by Britney Spears.

Similarly, apocolyptic song choices also depend not just on why you are destroying the Earth, by how. If you are planning on destroying the world by, say, somehow causing the atmosphere to disintegrate, or expanding the sun on us, I'd go with Fight The Sky by Gavin Mikhail. If you need to destroy the world so you can build a hyperspace expressway or something, then go with Thanks For All The Fish from the Hitchhiker's Guide the the Galaxy. Of course, there's always R.E.M.'s Its the End of the World, which would probably work for anything...except maybe rabid attack bunnies...then you might have to go with The Point of No Return. There is no saving us from rabid attack bunnies, no matter how clever or super-heroic you might be.

In short, think carefully about your musical choices before you go and destroy the Earth. Personally, I'd go with Don't Stop Me Now by Queen, though If Everyone Cared by Nickleback would make a lovely sadistically ironic twist. >:) I would definitely go with Queen though, nothing like a song you can really dance to while the world is ending around you. Oh yeah.



Friday, June 22, 2007

Another One Bites The Dust

Well, I've just checked the date, which is unusual, since I usually don't care much during the summer, and discovered that not only is it Friday (the day before the first half of the Doctor Who series finale aires) but it also happens to be the day after the one year anniversary of this Blog.

Oops. Should have checked that.

So, looking back on my year, reading my Blog entries from last summer, you'd think my life was in a constant state of chaos and boredom. My first two or three entries aren't bad, talking about movies and TV shows I'd seen recently, sitting around the pool with my sister, that sort of thing. Then my Grandfather died. That was an entry. Looking back, it was most about crying, or rather my inability to cry. I still haven't cried, not yet. I still catch my self saying "We're going to Grammy and Poppa's" even though Poppa is gone. It's been nearly a year since that happened, clearly I haven't really been coping too well.

Then I talk about the flood, or what is now referred to in this part of the country as simply "The Hail Storm" As if my life wasn't chaotic enough at that point, I was nearly drowned in a hail storm, trapped in a flimsy colonial house during the worst weather event in several years! My mom had to get a new car because the hail dented her old one beyond repair. We're still recovering from that one. Sort of like my Grandfather.

Then I went to SYMS. Ah SYMS, the best and worst two weeks of my life. What I fail to mention in my entry about SYMS is that Emily, my then roomate and one of my best friends, effectively, emotionally crushed me. One of the last few days I was there, we were all sitting around a table at lunch and we decided to play cards. She said "Ok, but someone needs to move their chair, because everyone else has tons of room and I only have a little" so I, of course, stood to up to move a chair for her as she immediately went "No, don't, you don't have to" to which I responded jokingly with "Course I will, if I don't, I'll never hear the end of it" she then slammed her cards onto the table, shoved her chair back and didn't speak to me for the rest of the day. That afternoon, she disapeared, and I nearly killed myself with a few other people trying to find her. When I did, we were up till three in the morning talking it out, and I thought everything was fine. I didn't talk to her after we left SYMS till school started and there I discovered that she apparently now hates me, would like to see me dead, and hasn't spoken to me since.

So that was SYMS. I'm still feeling that one too. Every single day at school this year, and many more, she was there to glare at me, to shove things in my face, to remind me of how much I completely and utterly suck. You get used to it after a while, having someone hating you so completely being in the same building as you. I just wish I knew why. Again, I haven't really been dealing too well with that one either.

Next I talk about Prince Edward Island, Three Moons Over Milford, and the unfortunate loss of Sailor Pluto. I acutally got a comment on that one. I like comments. Comments are good. I don't get nearly enough of them. But that's ok, I can live with that.

And that's pretty much last summer. Events and occurances I'm still feeling today, some good, some bad, and some boring. Mostly though, last summer wasn't really the greatest. I lost my Grandfather, my friend, my composure, and my electricity. All in one month. A few things I also did, I got braces, had to go through two weeks of spacers only to miss my appointment during the hail storm so they had to take them off and put them back on again for two weeks a month later. Twice with spacers, real fun. I eventually did get braces, a tragety in itself. I spent the first month bored out of my mind, being forced to watch my sister in front of a pool which is what started this Blog in the first place. Then when things finally did pick up, they were mostly bad. Mostly.

All in all, I didn't really have a great summer last year. In fact, I was effectively scarred by it. I was so scared of last summer, so terrified that this one would be a repeat of the last, that for most of the school year, I was dreading the return of summer. As the temperature got warmer, I started getting tenser, I wanted December back desperately, and only barely cheered when the school year ended.

And so here I am. One year after I started this Blog. One year later, and where am I? Sitting in front of the same computer I was last year, biding my time till I have to go and watch my sister in the big, inflatable blue pool outside. There's a sort of irony here, Huck Finn type irony that I can't quite figure out at the moment. In a few hours I'll be back outside with Alice, getting splashed one while reading a Doctor Who novel, drinking a glass of lemonaid, and slowly developing a rather nice tan. After that, I think I might call Valerie and go for a walk. Not thinking about homework, or getting up, or anything else, that's where I am.

And you know what? It may be boring, it may not be stimulating, it may seem like it's the same as last year, but it's not. No one's died yet, no one's cried yet, no one's decided they hated me yet, and there definetely (thank God or whoever) hasn't been a hailstorm yet. The summer's still young, my Blog's a year old now, and I'm actually feeling fairly content. Maybe by the end of this season I might be ready to let all of last summer go, maybe I won't. But for now I'm here.

Happy Birthday Blog, have a peice of cake. Many happy returns.



Monday, June 18, 2007

Say My Name

"We are right at the egde of knowledge itself, and you're busy...blogging! -The Doctor in Utopia

Well, that about sums up my life right there. It's funny, series three has been on for what, nearly two months now, and I haven't said a thing about it (well, except for that breif mention back in April) Originally, I was trying to use as little Doctor Who references as possible, so as not to alienate readers who had never seen the show. Well, upon discovering a few weeks ago that I actually have readers and none of them really care that I'm obsessed with Doctor Who, I've decided to talk about it again. Hmm...where do I start.

How about with a spoiler warning? Since the episode has in fact been aired (though not in this country yet) I can and will talk about certain events that take place, however, some events, such as the one I am about to discuss, are incredibly "spoilery" and will give huge amounts of plot away. If you're one of those people who likes knowing exactly what is going to happen, by all means read on, but, if you are one of those people that hates it, and avoids all spoilers like the plauge (I'm like that, still haven't seen Pirates 3 yet, still don't know the ending) than please, do not go any further. Alright? We good? Good. Then let's begin.


Oh my God, the Master. The Master. The Master. The Master. I'm still in shock. The latest episode, episode eleven Utopia, of course, featured the return of the villian I was least expecting and least excited for, the Master.

Let me make this clear, I HATE the Master. He was probably one of my least favorite Doctor Who villians of the classic series. By the time series three rolled around, if I ever stopped to think about the Master (which I didn't often) my mind usually went to "Classic series only, good while he lasted, glad he's gone" I never, EVER suspected he would make an apearance in the new series. God, was I wrong.

With a name like "The Master" you'd think he wouldn't be do-able in today's modern, advanced version of Doctor Who. Cheesyness, and supervillian names like "The Joker" or "The Penguin" are looked down upon. Most of the "enemies" of the Doctor in the new series, and the classic series actually, are specific races with specific names, not titles. He's fought a werewolf, no name, Mr. Finch of the Krillitanes, normal name, and of course, the Daleks and Cybermen, species names. The Master, in today's society would be met with ridicule, his old catchphrase "I am the Master, and you will obey me" would be answered with "Yeah, well I'm Nelly, and I'm going to call the police" You wouldn't call a respectible person, even one you hated, something like "The Master" you'd call them by name. "The Master" just sounds corney.

Once again, I was wrong.

There's a great scene in the new episode, where the Master just stole the Doctor's TARDIS and is being his usual threatening self where the Doctor says "I'm asking you really, properly, just stop. Just think." and the Master responds with "Say my name" The Doctor, incredibly shaken, clearly both frightened and broken is forced to respond with a semi-whispered "Master,"

What we're seeing there a great glimpse into who the Master is, and what his motivation is. The term "Master" when used to address another person typically means you are addressing someone to your superiour, someone you are subservient to. A slave, for example, would call their owner "Master", a servant calls their boss "Master", a dog's owner is called a "Master". By using "Master" as a name, it forces whoever addresses you to become subserviant. You, in effect, become the person's "master" by them addressing you as such, and you are therefore superior to them. The Master, being the way he is, clearly enjoys that feeling of superiority, that feeling that everyone in the universe is his slave, by the usage of "Master" as his name. He demonstrates this in one, brief, beautiful line in which he forces the Doctor, his one true equal and complete enemy, to effectively grovel at the feet of his master, the Master. In one moment, the name of the Master has been changed from nothing more than a cheesy, supervillianish name, to a metaphor of the relationship between him and the Doctor, and for how the Master truley sees himself. It's a great superiority complex. I love this show.

What it also makes you ponder is, what's in a name? The Master's name, obviousy as I just said, is a metaphor for his superiority complex and his need to see everyone subserviant to him. The Doctor, is not only a title so common that it is an effective disguise for what his unknown name is, it also represents knowledge. A Doctor is someone who goes through years and years of schooling and is therefore seen as being highly inteligent, someone wise, like the Doctor. But what about a normal person? What about us? Does a name mean the same thing to a "normal human" as it does to two fictional Time Lords?

From a logical, literal sense, the answer is no. A name is just something used to identify you, like a number but nicer. However, from a non-literal, more philisophical sense, a name is much more just a number. Humans, in general, give a lot of thought to names, just look at parents and their newborns. My aunt Terri was supposed to be named something different, but when she arrived, my grandmother took one look at her and said she didn't "look like" the name. There was something about her, something everyone could see, that made it impossible for them to name her that. After about a week being nameless, they finally decided that she was, in fact, a "Theresa" and the rest was history.

If a name really does mean nothing, why did that happen? How is it possible that a person can be a "Jenny" versus a "Sarah" or a "Gary" versus a "David"? Is there really a difference? How important is it?

I suppose it depends on the person. Someone told me once (can't remember who) that names aren't important. They said you could know a person without knowing their name as long as you focus on "the inside", which is all very nice and poetic, but it must get a little confusing having to refer to everyone you meet as "that person with a shy personality" or something. I generally think that as long as you know the person's first name, you're fine. I have plenty of friends, for instance, whose full names I don't know, I've never bothered to ask. Last names have never been important to me, just the first name.

To my mother, aparently, I am again, wrong. I was invited to a part recently at my friend from "While the Light's Were Out" house. I didn't know his last name, so when we tried to find his phone number we couldn't. While searching, my mom remarked "I can't beleive you don't really know him" to which I responded with "Of course I know him, it's Jordan, he was in the play with me, he's a friend," but I didn't know his last name. To my mother, you don't really know a person till you know their full name, like their entire name is their true identity and their first name only scratches the surface. To me, your full name's just your family name, it doesn't say anything about you, just about your family. You don't need to know a person's family to know them, just need to know them.

Though thinking about it now, a person's family is a part of them, it's their backstory. Knowing where a person came from is a big part of knowing a person, and I suppose just knowing their first name isn't really enough when looking at it that way. Wether or not you're a Jordan, a Terri, a Master, a Doctor or a Nelly doesn't really matter if you don't know their origins. It's why the Doctor doesn't tell anyone the rest of his name, it reveals too much about him.

A last name is just a family, a first name is just a person. It's the full name, I suppose, that really lets you know someone. The Master, on the surface, is a man with an intense need to feel superior and make everyone else feel subserviant, but underneath all that, someonewhere in the depths of his origins, there may be more to him. There couldn't be something else there that, from a different part of him, is different, like a last name we just haven't seen yet. You don't really know a person till you know their full name.

Which of course, answers the question. What's in a name? A lot.

I can't beleive the Master's back. I loved the guy that played him last night, John Simm was brilliant. Can't wait for more. Right now though, I have to go find Jordan's last name. And then I think I'll go to a party.



Friday, June 15, 2007

The Knife on the Rocks

I climbed down a rock cliff on the side of a house downtown, underneath a big stone bridge today. I had only intended to climb down there to sit on the rocks by the rapids of the river and draw...and then I found it.

A knife. There was a large, sharp carving knife lying lonely on one of the rocks. It was just sitting there, completely intact, no obvious purpose other than to scare someone. It was a bit unnerving at first, it's not often you climb down to the base of a rock wall and are met by the knife from Psycho. I was, however, determined to ignore it. I stubbornly climbed away from it, sat on a rock somewhere else and spent an hour reading and drawing before finally returning to it. By this point I'd had some time to think, time to contemplate the many things that could happen with a knife here, the many animals and small, adventurous children that might get accidentally stabbed.

I picked it up by the handle and stared at it for a while, pacing across the ground in front of the river rapids, trying to figure out what to do. I had pretty much decided by then that it couldn't stay out in the open, I just needed to figure out where I was going to take it, and how I was going to take it there. I tried putting it in my bag, but it nearly tore a hole through it so I took it out. After several minutes of pacing and secretly scanning the water for dead bodies, I turned around and began the climb back up to the alleyway above the rocks, knife in hand, trying my best not to look like a murderer.

Upon poking my head out from below the rocks, I was immediately met by a group of four slightly bewildered middle schoolers on bikes. Apparently, they hadn't been expecting a strange person with a knife to pop out of nowhere on their bike ride, I think they assumed I was smoking pot down there, till they saw the knife. Behind them, I could see a dumpster in the distance, the perfect place for me to throw it. I just needed to get past the line of shops in front of it without someone calling the police. The middle schoolers blocked my way, however, and demanded to know what I was doing there. "Is that your knife?" on of them asked.

"No," I responded immediately, "I found it on one of the rocks, I didn't want anyone to get hurt, so I..."

"What were you doing down there?" another one asked in that annoying middle school voice they all seem to have...was I like that in middle school?

"I was drawing," I said. They smirked.

"On what? The wall?"

"I have a notepad..." I said, not bothering to take it out of my bad, since I was only sketching and the picture wasn't very good. They didn't seem to believe me, I still think they thought I was a pothead.

"So why do you have the knife? Are you gonna kill someone?"

"No," I said again, "I found it on the rocks, it was just there, I brought it up so nothing would get hurt, but now I don't know what to do with it." As I was speaking every single walker in my town decided now would be an excellent time to walk right up the ally I was standing in, making it impossible for me to run to the dumpster. Suprisingly, the middle schoolers seemed to pick up on this.

"People are gonna think you're crazy," said one of them. I nodded.

"Yeah, I was hoping to put it in that dumpster..."

"But there's too many people around," they replied. Another one of them held out their hand.

"I'll take it," he said, and before I could stop him, he took the knife right out of my hand and ran to the dumpster, holding it discreetly behind his back. His friends stood around with me for a bit and laughed, but after a minute I finally decided to run after him. I was halfway there when he threw the thing into the dumpster, never to be seen again. I thanked him and without saying a word, he laughed and ran back to his friends. I turned and walked away, looking back only once to see that they had been joined by several other middle schoolers and were now relating their frightening encounter with a strange girl and a knife to their new friends. I walked away. The subject of it all.

And that's what I did the last day of my Sophomore year. When most people have a part or go out with their friends, I went rock climbing and found a knife, cold and alone, shining on the rocks. I'm a junior now, go figure. I'm sixteen now too, as of yesterday, not sweet sixteen, but just sixteen. I got two books (both Doctor Who) a cactus, a few other things, and something mysterious from China that apparently hasn't come in the mail yet. I'll keep you posted.

But in the meantime, this means I'm officially on Summer break. Finals are done, job applications are being sent, books are being read, and most importantly, the knife has been disposed of. Life is good right now. Life is very good. :)

Oh, and I won "Best Actress" at the Drama Banquet for Alma Threedle. Got a plaque and everything...and they spelled my name right!!!!

I'll spare you anymore of this, have an awesome begining of the summer,