Nervous Energy Personified

I really shouldn't be writing right now, it's nearly one in the morning and I have to be up at quarter to nine tomorrow, but since I can't sleep I figured I'd come and bug my readers for a while. Sorry everyone, humor me.

I should mention now that I'm not going to be able to write much for the next few weeks here as I've just gotten a lead in the play "While the Lights Were Out" which is a "comedy-murder farce" or something...

Anyway, I play Sergeant Alma Threedle (yes, that's really her name) who is the assistant of Detective Inspector Benjamin Braddock. The only problem is, Detective Inspector Benjamin Braddock is a bit like that detective from the Pink Panther movies (whose name I can't spell, and am not going to try at 1:00 AM) which leaves his assistant, Sergeant Alma Threedle, to basically solve the entire case herself by taking notes for a detective novel she's writing.

Yes, that's right everyone, I get to solve the murder. Not only that, but I get to point a pistol at several different characters while doing it. I start out as sort of a side character, that the audience doesn't really notice all that much, since all I'm doing is taking notes and observing. As soon as Lord Clive Wickenham (yes, that really is his name, interesting names in this play) gets murdered, however, I never shut up.

ninety-eight pages in this script, NINETY-EIGHT. There are only six I don't have a line on. This means that I speak at least once on ninety-two pages of script.








I'M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!


*ahem*

I should probably spare you anymore of my very early morning ramblings. I did ask you to humor me, this is my first actual lead and to be honest I'm a bit nervous...we had the read-through on Thursday and I managed to stub my toe twice, and mis-pronounce the word "examine" (I believe I said "examinated"). I was all excited and hyper, but insanly frightened all at once. I think that's how it's going to be for the rest of the show's run. The most fun I've had in a while, but probably the most nerve-wracking as well. Nervous energy personified, that'll be me for the next month.

Do you know what happened while the lights were out?

*Nelly*

Ethan Frome: A Review

AHHHHHHHH!!!!!

That pretty much sums up my feelings on this book. Either that or snoring. Honestly, I can see what the author was going for in righting this; a bittersweet, dark, realistic portrayal of human life and effects love can have on it. The ending had sort of a Romeo and Juliet feel to it, except that those two actually knew what they were doing. Unlike Ethan and Mattie.

Ah yes, Ethan and Mattie. The two most boring characters in literary history. Ethan has some dimension to him, mainly because the rather stalkerish narrator decides to tell us every tiny thought that goes through his head. Really, how the hell does a mechanic know what the guy is thinking? Clearly we have a mind reading, stalker on our hands here, which would have seriously helped the plot of this book along.

Plot you ask? There's a plot to this? Apparently, there's suppose to be. Personally, I think it got lost in the snow and hit with a tree...or was that Mattie? We'll never know for sure. The story follows the life of the young, handsome, hopelessly trapped farmer Ethan Frome and his quest to find...something. Actually, thinking about it now, he doesn't really have a quest, he mostly just wants to cheat on his dragon-lady wife Zeena with her beautiful cousin Mattie. Sound like a soap opera? It's either that or a fantasy sci-fi thriller (Am I the only one who thought Zeena was the name of a warrior princess?)

Anyway, after Ethan spends a few chapters venting, writing goodbye letters, and deciding it's all hopeless, he decides to head out to the train station with his precious Mattie, who is being sent home by his evil Zeena. The two eventually decide that they can't live without each other, and since life is meaningless, decide to commit suicide together a la Romeo and Juliet.

Here's where it gets interesting. At this point in the "novel" you're so incredibly sick of the main characters that you're really looking forward to their brutal taking of their own lives. MY GOD would that have been satisfying! But no, this is not to be. Turns out Ethan and Mattie are even worse faliures then they made themselves out to be, so much in fact, that they can't even die correctly!

Their plan: Slide down a snowy hill on a sled, and hit a tree.

Execution: Went well...for a while.

Results: They lived. What the hell, they lived. They became permanently crippled for life, never able to leave the bleak atmosphere that is apparently Starkfield, Massachusetts. Their trapped, meaningless existence quickly turns into a permanent life of absolute misery. How fun.

So, to sum it all up. It's a dull, boring, depressing as hell little novel, that gives little hope to the characters and the readers, and does nothing to boost the image of New England. In short, leave the whole tragic romance thing to Shakespeare, at least he know how to make it interesting.

Rant now over.

Aloha people,

*Nelly*

To Nelly, Signed David Tennant

OH. MY. GOD. It came.

Oh my God, oh my God.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod....

I currently hold, in my possession a picture of scottish actor David Tennant in character as the Doctor. Normal, right? Anyone can get a hold of a picture of the Doctor, just Google image it. Especially with series three starting up in a few weeks, picture of the Doctor are pretty common. Nothing too huge to be excited about.

Wrong.

This picture is different, FAR different from your average picture of the Doctor. In the top left hand corner, in permanent marker just under a shot of a flying TARDIS are the words "To Nelly" in what I assume is David Tennant's handwriting. At the bottom of the picture is what I assume is "David Tennant" though looking at the signature now...it could very well be "Dale Tengu"...

I HAVE AN AUTOGRAPHED PICTURE OF DAVID TENNANT!!!!!!

...or Dale Tengu, depending on how you look at it.

DAVID TENNANT AUTOGRAPHED A PICTURE OF THE DOCTOR!!!!!

...and spelled my name right.









*squee*




That's all I have for now. I have to go lead a Brownie Girl Scout luncheon now, wish me luck with that (AHHHH!) if I don't come back alive, let it be my last will and testament here that I want to be buried with my signed picture of DT...no one else can TOUCH it!!!

Cheerio!

*Nelly*

Internet Lament

I sit alone in my room, a blank word document open and an old episode of M*A*S*H* playing in the background. I sniffle a bit and reach for a tissue, a cold making my bad mood worse. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to watch TV. I don’t want to do much of anything at this point. Know why? It’s very simple, really.

My Internet is dead.

That’s right, my Internet is completely gone. Kaput. Mutilated beyond reason by the same man that, just last night, took my laptop apart and spread the pieces all over the desk in front of me. My father.

It all started when Lazarus, my laptop, decided it would be a good idea to deny me the ability to hear. I had been watching The Girl in the Fireplace, an episode of Doctor Who with audio commentary, when circumstances dictated that I had to leave. I left it all open, sitting on my footstool to patiently await my arrival when I would un-pause the movie and resume watching the Doctor snog Madame du Pompadour while David Tennant commented. This was not to be. Of all the time and places to lose sound, this particular moment was just about the worst. Would you want to be interrupted in the middle of the snog of a lifetime? Very awkward for both me, and Madame du Pompadour I’m sure.

So naturally, my being slightly technologically challenged, I handed Lazarus over to my father, the techno God of my family. After completely disassembling it several times, apart from causing me to nearly hyperventilate with worry, he concluded “the sound card is dead, you’ll have to wait to get a new one” and then proceeded to tear out my speakers.

Now, I can live with having no sound, being connected to the world in silence is better then not being connected at all. I figured I would just steal my Dad’s computer if I really needed sound, which at the time I didn’t. I got around perfectly fine last night, needing sound only once to watch David Tennant’s episode of Ready Steady Cook on YouTube. Stole Dad’s computer perfectly. Lovely.

The next day, to quote Torchwood, everything changed.

It worked fine in the morning. It worked fine in the afternoon. In fact, it worked fine in the evening too, for a little while. Then I went upstairs to grab Dad’s computer. I turned it on, loaded it up, and doubled clicked on Internet explorer.

Connection Failed.

What? Impossible! I remember thinking, this can’t possible, the connection says it’s at 100 %, how can it possibly fail? Perhaps another try?

Connection Failed.

Ok, so Dad’s computer is having some connection issues…even thought it worked fine last night. Still, no worries, Lazarus will work, I just don’t have sound. Again, I can live without sound. So I ran upstairs, grabbed him, and turned him on. This time I try Mozilla Firefox (my Techno-God father still hasn’t switched over yet) and hoped it would be smarter then Internet Explorer.

Connection Failed.

No such luck. It was here that I started getting angry. Why is it that every time my father insists on fiddling with the computer, even though it has nothing to do with the Internet, HE KILLS THE INTERNET??? The only thing that could possibly make this worse, is if the “family” computer decides to deny me the web as well. Three guesses as to what happened next.

Mere moments before, I had used the downstairs internet to look up the number to Pizza Hut. Now, about ten minutes later, the web that had so diligently and quickly worked seconds ago, was gone.

GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG!!!!!!!!!!

…or something to that extent. Can’t quite remember my exact wording at that moment, but trust me, it wasn’t pleasant. I am now cut off completely from the outside world, on a Friday night, with no rehearsals, homework, or social events of any kind to distract me. What the hell am I going to do, you might ask? Well, after slamming my head against the refrigerator a few times, and maybe eating a slice of pizza, I think I’ll write this whole experience down. Maybe post it on my Blog after a while. Hm…maybe…

But for now, I think I’ll just get a class of coke, sit in that big, green chair no one ever lets me use if Dad’s home, and watch old re-runs of M*A*S*H* on the Hallmark Channel.

Cheers

*Nelly*

Writer's Block

Just thought I'd post to warn you all that I'm suffering from a rather severe case of writer's block at the moment. I'm in the middle of five different stories at once, and can't figure out where to go in any of them, and I certainly cannot figure out what to write in this blog. Very sorry, please forgive me, unfortunately this kind of thing just happens sometimes. I'll be back once the block is gone and I can write something interesting.

Thanks for putting up with me.

*Nelly*

Exams Are Eating My Soul

Oh my Gosh, I'm actually updating! I'd say to cue the Hallelujah Chorus, except that I did update shortly after Christmas which was about...three weeks ago. Not bad considering the month you had to wait for me to update in October/November. As always however, I have an excuse. Several actually, a list if you will. I'll try not to bore you.

Excuse #1: Whoville. Yes, that's right Whoville. Might not sound like a good excuse but believe me it is so is. Seussical the Musical at the Palace Theater is what I'm currently rehearsing at the moment, since I'm sure you LOVE hearing about my struggles as an actor. I'm in the ensemble again, but it's a very good ensemble full of lots of costume changes and complex dancing. I may not sound particularly enthusiastic about it but trust me I am. My lack of enthusiasm will be explained later, I promise. Anyway, the show's on Valentine's Day over in Manchester New Hampshire if anyone's in the area. Check it out, it's a good show!

Excuse #2: Doctor Who. Is there ever a time when this isn't taking over my life? Two things, drama and Doctor Who, that's my life right there in two words. Love it. Anyway, my life has been taken up by Doctor Who, everyone's favorite British sci-fi show. I've been writing a lot of fanfiction for it lately (had a lot of downtime during Christmas) which is why I've been too busy to post here. I've written two episodes for Outpost Gallifrey's Series Three (Since fanfic writers there are, like me, both bored and impatient waiting for the next series to air) and have written several stand alone stories as well. Maybe, if you're lucky and/or on the the verge of death, I might post them here. Anyway, Doctor Who is excuse number two, don't like it, go be converted into a Cyberman.

Excuse #3: Exams. Ah yes, we finally get to the reason this entry seems so sarcastic and emotionless. Midterm exams. Love them. Just, love them. Today was my first day of exams and I am now completely exhausted despite only having had two. Geometry can take a lot out of you if you let it and my GOD did I let it. The test themselves aren't so bad, it's the days and weeks leading up to them. I remember being a freshman and doing these...maybe I don't want to remember that...gah....

So there it is. That's what's up in my life right now. At some point when I'm no longer being plauged by review-happy high school teachers and the music from Doomsday I might actually go back to writing something interesting for this blog. The top does promise rants, reviews, and stories. Maybe I'll write a story. At the moment I think I'm going to go glance at my Spanish notes, make some tea and watch some Doctor Who before going to bed. After all, in the words of my favorite TV itself, "Tea. The solution to everything." (Rose Tyler, The Christmas Invasion)

Estoy muy triste...

*Nelly*

Nelly Explains Stuff: Christmas Morning at Nelly's

"A word of advice, next time you fight a man with a sonic screwdriver...don't let him near the sound system!" - The Doctor, 2006 Christmas Special The Runaway Bride

First things first, it's four in the morning, most civilized people in this country are either asleep or finishing their fan Doctor Who scripts, I however am unfortunetly doing neither. Instead, I am awake in bed trying to tell my seven year old sister that it's not time to wake up yet. My sister's name is Alice, here's what happened:

Alice: Nelly, let's go downstairs.

Nelly: (Almost completley asleep) No. It's not seven thirty yet.

Alice: But can't we just go down anyway?

Nelly: Mom and Dad said: We can't wake them up till seven.

Alice: But can't we...

Nelly: NO! Mom and Dad said we can't wake them up until seven, we can't go downstairs at seven, we can't open presents at seven, CHRISTMAS DOES NOT START UNTIL SEVEN, if we were to leave this bed before seven then Santa would come, take away our presents and throw us into the white hot pit of flaming plum pudding! DOOM awaits those who go down the steps before seven on Christmas. Abandon all hope, ye who...

At this point, I notice that during my rant my sister has fallen asleep, completely bored and quite possibly frightened by my half comotose speech. Shame really, would have made great autobiography material for her. Anyway, at this point it's about 4:15 and it takes me probably all of a second to fall back to sleep. God bless us, everyone.

At exactly seven on the dot my sister's eyes shoot open and she wakes me up again. This time, I'm not quite as sadistic as I was at four, having had two extra hours of sleep to repent my soul. I head downstairs to find my slippers (because that's the obvious place for them) while my sister goes and wakes up my parents. By 7:10, we're all downstairs.

My family all has matching stockings hand knitted by my mom, except for my sister. It's not because mom wouldn't knit her one, she's had one started for her for years, it's that my sister didn't want a family stocking. Instead, my then three year old sister decided to to assert her independence and make her own stocking. Needless to say, we bought her one at Walmart and let her cover it with glitter. The rest of the stockings are knitted. Cute stockings slightly larger then the average store bought one, each striped according to person. My mom's is striped red-green, my dad's is striped green-red and mine is striped red-white. Alice's was suppose to be striped green-white, but alas, it remains half finished in the barn outback. Again, it's a shame.

Why am I ranting about stockings? I'll tell you why. Have you ever opened a stocking and realized almost instantly that it wasn't yours? Then checked the outside and realized it was? Then checked the inside and realized it wasn't? How imensely confusing is that? Aparently over the night "Santa" got the stocking content confused, and gave all of my mom's stocking stuffers to me and all of mine to her. Clearly hanging out with all those reindeer in a sub-arctic enviroment does terrible things to one's mind.

By 7:30 the presents are torn open. My mom got a dead presidents fact book, my dad got a cargo net, my sister got a VILE baby alive doll and I got:

- A David Tennant as The Doctor action figure (complete with little sonic screwdriver!!)
- A Doctor Who original novel: The Price of Paradise
- A 50$ Gift card to Macy's (FIFTY DOLLARS...what am I going to do with all that?)
- A Doctor Who poster of The Doctor standing looking awsome infront of the TARDIS
- A Doctor Who K-9 keychain
- Two t-shirts, one that says "They say I have ADD, but I think...ok look, a chicken!" and another one that says "Watch it or you'll end up in my novel"
- The Doctor Who Soundtrack (and mousepad and badge)
- A grey sweatshirt
- A blue sweater
- A gift card to iTunes
And by far the most useless yet still incredibly cool gift all year:
-A Doctor Who glass light, basically a pane of glass with the Doctor Who logo lit up in Neon Blue. No IDEA what I'm going to do with this...but I love it!

So yeah, that's my morning. By eight I've managed to read half the book and eat two cinnoman nut buns. At eight thirty I call my friends, see what they got. At nine I contemplate taking a shower but dad says there's no hot water so I end up waiting until nine-thirty. Relatives to come over at ten. At nine thirty I'm about to step into the shower when all the relatives show up, at once, completely unannounced a half an hour early. I don't even get time to put conditioner in or use the hair dryer. I open more presents, hair completely soaked, at ten.

I am aparently the hardest person in the world to shop for. No idea why this is, my friends tell me the same thing. This may be why I ended up receiving seven different notebooks and sketchbooks and six pairs of plain white socks for Christmas. Granted, I love notebooks and sketchbooks, and everyone needs socks. I was just sort of hoping I'd maybe get a pair of earrings or something...

Oh, and of course, the annual famed Aunty Gay gift. I've never met my Aunt Gay, nor do I think she's ever met me. I may have met her once when I was about three years old, and aparently in her world, that's the age I stay forever. This year my gift was the famed five story wooden jewelery box with little bumblebees and flowers painted on the side in pink. It is the most gastly thing I've ever seen in my life. If it really is the thought that counts, then what was she thinking? Anyone want it...anyone?

And so, that's Christmas morning for you. From four to eleven on December 25th, that was my life. At twelve thirty we sat down to have our Christmas dinner (see entry "Putting the England in New England") and at one thiry I quietly excused myself so I could obsessively watch the live streaming broadcast of Doctor Who: The Runaway Bride. Was in state of shock for the rest of the day after hearing David Tennant say Gallifrey, in character, on screen, in a cool and slightly menacing way. And I thought he only did that sort of stuff in my dreams...but let's not go there... Anway, by the end of the evening, while still in shock, I managed to have my book finished, my soundtrack dumped into iTunes, and a fan-fic started in one of my notebooks. All in all, a good Christmas. I even managed to find a place for the light, right at the foot of my bed, where bizarly enough is actually where my head is.

Merry Christmas to all.

And to all, a goodnight.

*Nelly*

I Saw Three Ships

Christmas time is here. Happyness and cheer. Time for all...crap, I can't remember the words. Doesn't really matter considering it's the 29th now anyway and I haven't written anything since November. Sorry kids, been a bit busy.

First off, A Christmas Carol was fantastic! I had so much fun doing it, I nearly cried at the last show!! Even thought I just played a Londoner...and a few other small parts...It was probably one of the funnest things I've done in a while! Next show: Seussical the Musical, rehersals start January CANNOT WAIT!!!

But where else was I? Surely one play couldn't really have kept me offline for a whole month! Well...it basically did. That and the fact that I had to write two whole episodes of Doctor Who for Outpost Gallifrey's Series Three! Outpost Gallifrey is probably the best Doctor Who news site and forum on the web, a few of the forum members decided that instead of waiting till April for series three to come to the UK (which I don't live in, but I have my ways) they would write their own. They needed writers, I needed something to do backstage. It was a perfect match.

Anyway, I wrote two episodes, episodes two and six called "Dr. Martha Jones" and "The Missing Doctor", episode six is still being posted, but you're a member of their forums you can read episode two in it's entirety by going to the fan fiction section and looking for "OG's Series Three - "Dr. Martha Jones""If you're not a member, and for some bizarre reason still want desperantly to read my episodes, e-mail me and I'll send them to you. My e-mail is nnickrim@comcast.net (since I can't remember if it's displayed on the main page of the blog, how's that for not posting in a while!) The fact that I was up until four in the morning finishing episode six proves that I am truely, completely obsessed. What a sad person I am. I love it.

Let's see, what else has happened in my life that you should know about? Hm...I've started wearing a watch...that's fairly monumental...I got a David Tennant action figure, though without the trenchcoat...I found out my family heritage consists almost entirely of viking, pirating horse theives...they said Gallifrey on Doctor Who...oh that's right...

THEY SAID GALLIFREY ON DOCTOR WHO!!!!

...and I also got some socks. Anyone want a five story pink painted jewelery box? Because I sure as heck don't despite what my Great Aunt might think...

Merry Christmas All, and a Happy New Year.

*Nelly*

Putting the England in New England

So as I'm walking down the street one day, contemplating how I can best get my hands on a copy of "Song For Ten" from Doctor Who while simultaniously counting down the minutes to the airing of the new Doctor Who Christmas speacial "The Runaway Bride" (19 days, 21 hours, 04 minutes, 03 seconds at the time of this writing) I slowly begin to realize that I am addicted to England.

Granted, I live in New England, so that's really not all that rare, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't risen to this extent in most cases.

My entire life lately, has revolved around Doctor Who. Watching Doctor Who, writing about Doctor Who, wishing I was watching or writing Doctor Who, wishing I was in Doctor Who, drinking tea while watching Doctor Who. That's my life. When I'm not busy putting on a British accent in this year's production of "A Christmas Carol" in Manchester.

British slang, or at least what I consider to be British slang, has slowly begun to slip into my vocabulary. After watching Rose Tyler on Doctor Who though, how can you possibly not want to yell "Stop mucking about!" at your friend in the cafeteria?

My family isn't really helping either. In my house, BBC America is on all the time. If it's not The History Channel, or PBS, it's BBC. The radio is always turned to NHPR, so we're constantly getting reports from the BBC. My family is also addicted to tea, and aparently (in my mother's own words) has been since "The cave people first heated up water". The family "tea problem" didn't hit me until I saw the 1996 Doctor Who TV Movie where Sylvester McCoy sits around drinking tea at the begining. I suddenly thought "Hm...tea..." and I was gone. I've found myself unable to go a whole day without at least one or two cups.

Do you know what's in an English Christmas Dinner? I certainly didn't, until now. I didn't think they ate anything different then we do here, some turkey, some potatoes, that sort of thing. But aparently, according to my mother, this is what's actually in an English Christmas Dinner:

Standing Rib Roast
Chicken Pie
Yorkshire Pudding
Mashed Potatoes
Roasted Brussel Sprouts
Green Beans
Mince Pies
Custard
Gingerbread

My apologies to those British people out there that may or may not want to kill me now, it's my mom's doing not mine (there's still a little American left in me, I used Mom not Mum) Anyway, it'll be an interesting Christmas over here, that's for sure.

So that's my life right now, trying to not sound too incredibly obsessed with Doctor Who (19 days, 20 hours, 29 minutes, 20 seconds) and the British in general. I wrote a 59 page Doctor Who script the other day though, so it doesn't look good. Anyway, hope you have a jolly good evening.

Tut tut,

*Nelly*

Where In The World Is Nelly The Blogger?

Hello all! I'm back! I realize of course, that I haven't written since October, but I have an excuse!

My life has been as boring as hell.

Yes, ever since Haunted Acres ended, absolutly nothing has happened to me. An entire month with no activity short of babysitting and having my iPod stolen, (don't worry I got a new one) November wasn't really a month worth retelling. I tried several times to write a good blog entry during the month, but nothing seemed to come to me. I suppose I thrive on interesting things happening to me, and when nothing does it's just not worth talking about. I figure now that it's December, when I'm usually as busy as hell as opposed to as bored as hell, there'll be plenty of things to rant about on here.

My first order of buisness after returning from the dead, is to announce that I'm leaving again. But this time I'm only going for the weekend. To celebrate Thanksgiving (and because Miss Holly said so) my family is going to New York City to see the Radio City Rockettes Christmas Spectacular with my sister's dance school. My sister goes to Holly Jane Dance Center, the very same dance school I attended for ten years before leaving to pursue a carrer in drama and bloging. The drama thing's gone well...not too sure about the bloging. I'll let you figure that out. The point is though, that starting tomorrow, I'm going to be in New York. So don't expect any entries. My computer is here, not in New York.

My second order of buisness is to announce that I, Nelly, have gotten into the Palace Theater's annual production of "A Christmas Carol"!! Ok, you can stop aplauding, I was in it last year too. In fact, I played the exact same part last year too, Londener. I was suppose to get a chance to actually dance this year in the opening number, but since all teen girls have to be paired with a guy and all the teen guys are shorter then me, I'm left standing still...just like last year. Oh holy night.

On the bright side though, I get to be a Soprano this year, unlike last year where I was mysteriously made an Alto even though I'm naturally a Soprano. Honestly, I think they should just make me a tenor one year, just to screw everything up. So that's my life right now. Charles Dickens England. Oh well, at least it's not Haunted Acres. ANYTHING is better then Haunted Acres.

Oh, and for all those people out there who are mad that the world is constantly forgetting about Thanksgiving in favor of Christmas, here's a song for you. Enjoy:

(To the tune of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas")

Have yourself a merry Thanksgiving
Let yourself eat pie
Even though you're on a diet
You've broken it, don't lie

Have yourself a merry Thanksgiving
You do remember what that is?
It's that little holiday that comes
Before Christmas

Here we are
In the department store
There's a wreath on the door, oh why?
Don't they know?
It's still November
Don't they remember?
Thanksgiving

Through the years we allways keep forgetting
Poor Thanksgiving day
From now on
You forgetters are going to pay
So have yourself a merry Thanksgiving day

Happy Thanksgiving All,

*Nelly*

The Blair Nelly Project

So personally, I think that witches need a bit of respect. While I've never met the Blair Witch, the Bell Witch, the Wicked Witch or the White Witch, I'm fairly sure they're not as bad as everyone thinks they are.

It's almost politically incorrect, my job. I hide in the shadows out in the woods of the New England Dragway, my face is green, I'm wearing a black dress with a black cape and black pointed hat and across the path from me is a couldren with green smoke seeping out of it. Once people come up the path, I jump out and chase them, screaming and cackling. It I were a real witch I would be offended.

When people come through my scene at Haunted Acres, they think one of two things a.) Dude look at that couldren, I hope it's alchohol they're brewing, or b.) This totally the Blair Witch. Once I pop out at them they either, scream, laugh, pat themselves on the back for figuring out that the Blair Witch is here, or think I'm a vampire.

First of all, I AM NOT A VAMPIRE!!! I don't know were people are getting this from. I mean, there's a smoking couldren right next to where they're standing, I'm clearly dressed up as a witch, I've got a black pointed hat on, and my face is green. Still, when people come through and I sneakily follow them down the path, they half the time still insist, "Hey...that vampire lady's still following us..." AHHHH!!!!! If you're going to bee a smart alec and refuse to at least pretend you're scared, at least make fun of me with the right name!! Vampire...grr...

Anyway, I may not be a vampire, but I'm perfectly fine with being called the Blair Witch. In fact, I think I was hired to be the Blair Witch anyway. I've never seen The Blair Witch Project (I've seen the thumb-spoof The Blair Thumb) nor do I have any intenstion of ever seeing it, but being given the title of "Blair Witch" is still quite an honor.

I just got a call from the Haunted Acres people. Looks like it's not going to matter what exactly I'm playing tonight since they've just shut down the Nightmare Walk. Severe rains up here in New Hampshire, maybe even becoming snow. I know I'm making a lot of money doing this, and I've just written an entire entry about how much I like having the "Blair Witch" title, but after hearing this news, I have but one thing to say:

YES!!!!!!!!!! A WHOLE SATURDAY TO MYSELF!!!!!!

*Ahem* Well, now that that's settled, I think I'm going to go use my free Saturday to do something a bit more productive then ranting to unsuspecting Blog readers. Which, by the way, I have five of now! Five whole readers! Yes!

So I guess I'll sign off here. Nothing else worth mentioning has happened in my life since my last entry. Haunted Acres pretty has been my life for the past month. Thank God October's almost over. Bring on November!!

Oh, I watched Torchwood the other day, that Doctor Who spin-off from Wales. It was really good. I'll post a full review at some point, when I don't have better things to be doing.

Forever Yours (or something),

*Nelly*

The Cat, The Witch, and My Mother

As I'm sitting here typing this I am extremely alarmed. Why am I so shocked? Because there is no large black/grey Maine coon sitting on my keyboard. Granted, he only seems to be attracted to the downstairs family computer (which I'm currently not using) but it's only a matter of time before he discovers that there's no one working down there, and feels the need to come to me.

My cat, I've decided, is extremely insecure. From dealing with several of my friends, I know insecurity when I see it. His excessive need to "feel loved" is says to me that he is deep down a very lonely cat. His desire for attention, however, is getting out of hand. His means of gaining the attention he wants has become extremely risky, and is starting to be exceptionally dangerous. If this deadly cycle of rolling all over the keyboard and the phone (and any other electronics on the desk) continues, he could find himself suffering even more from the trauma of being thrown outside in the cold! It is my hope that he finds help immediately so that this terrible habit may cease and he can get the attention he deserves in a healthy way. Without accidentally typing an entire row of A's in the middle of my history essay.

So anyway, moving on from that, I had my very first day at Haunted Acres yesterday...sort of. Not everything was set up yet, so what they basically did was show me three different options for things I could play and let me demand one. The choices went like this:

1. First, I was offered the part of the abomidable snow man in the "freezer room" I was to wear a torn up snow suit and jump out at scare people. Once they decided that I really didn't want to be crammed into a tiny corner to pop out at people, and that I'm a wimp and get cold easily, the decided to move me.
   
2. My second offer was for the part of the spinning masked screamer person. I was to stand in a wide spinner tube-like thing and scream at people in two directions with a mask on. Not only did I not particularly want to wear a mask (but I would have if I had to) but I figured that after a while I'd get dizzy.
   
3. My final offer was when I finally asked "is it ok if I work out on the nightmare walk instead of in the house?" The coordinator asked, "can you play a witch?" to which my Dad responded, "She won't even have to ask." Take my advice people, never bring your dad to your first job interview. Anyway, I said a witch would be fine (a witch is my classic Halloween costume of choice anyway) and I got the job. I start tomorrow. As of yesterday I am officially a professional witch.
   

Have you ever tried to Google your name? Type in my name, and you get an obituary for a ship that tragically sunk in the 1920's. Type in my other name (I go by two different names, my real one and my nick-name) and you get a newspaper article from when I was eleven. Type in my mom's name, and you get a whole slew of paranormal websites.

The funny part about that is, my mother is the most incredible skeptic you will ever meet. One of her most famous (well, ok...famous in my house) quotes is "you don't have ghosts you have mice!" Yet, if you type her name into Google, going past all the columns she writes for the Exeter News Letter ("Historically Speaking" every other Friday...I think) you get ghost sites. You see, last October my mother had the brilliant idea of becoming the Exeter News Letter's official disenchantress, and wrote a whole article about ghosts, or the lack of ghosts. It doesn't really totally disprove or completely bash the whole ghost thing, it's more about how she wishes ghosts would give people a little bit more information.
Psychic: His name was...Nathanial!

Mom: Nathanial what?

Psychic: He doesn't just say...just Nathanial

Mom: Well God, this house was built in the 1700's, there were billions of Nathanials running around!

Psychic: He was sad when he died...

Mom: I'm sure some of those Nathanials running around were sad, it could be anyone!

And that's how the conversation would continue for about an hour or so. She had the same discussion with my junior paranormal investigator cousin, George, all the time too. My other article "The Ghosts of P.E.I." has more to say about that. If you ever find yourself getting all spacey and need a major reality check, come talk to my mom. She'll give you her views on the matter, and make you laugh hysterically while doing so. She won't try to completely convert you over to the land of skepticism, she'll just say what she thinks and let you think about it. When you leave. While you're with her she'll never give you a free moment.

Of course, It would probably be good to note that the only reason I'm writing all this stuff about my mom is that she recently came up to me at like 11:00 at night and said "Oh, I found your blog!" and asked if she could read the rest of it. I'm seriously going to have to be more careful about what I say here...mother's watching...

Bon Voyage!

*Nelly*

How To Scare People For a Living

So recently, as in last Saturday, I was hired by Haunted Acres. Haunted Acres, for all those many readers I have that don't live in Southern New Hampshire, is a ginormous haunted house and "haunted walk" that is set up every year at the New England Dragway. It used to be set up at Pine Acres Campground in Raymond, hence the name "Haunted Acres", but has since expanded and moved on to the dragway.

Basically what happened was, I was scouring the internet for some Halloween related thing to do this October and decided to check the Haunted Acres website. At the botton there was this ad: "Always wanted a carrer in Hollywood (but couldn't becuase you live in Southern New Hampshire), like scaring people, and not afraid of the dark? Have we got a job for you!" Naturally, it was not something I could just pass up. I have no plays going right now, which for an actor is not a good place to be in, and since my next audition isn't until November, I figured this is as close as I was going to get at doing something acting related so I don't go crazy until November.

Basically, though I'm not sure yet since we haven't had our first rehersal, my job is to jump out and scare people. That's right, I am that desperate that I have decided to dress up in funny costumes, put on scary make-up and scare people every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday until the end of October. It's a living.

The down side of course is that my October is now gone. I'm working both Halloween night and the night before (which here in New Hampshire is trick-or-treat night, since we're weird here) so I'll miss out on both of those. My four day weekend next week has been redused to a one day weekend since I'm taking that Saturday off for family matters (I'll talk about them when we get closer) No Halloween parties for me! I'm a working woman!

So, save me some candy and a pumpkin shaped cookie this October, and I'll mention you in the Blog. Anyone who can send me the most "Halloweenish" type thing that I'm going to miss by being in Haunted Acres will win a fabulous prize that I have yet to think of. I'll keep you posted.

Happy Hauntings!

*Nelly*

Time Warp Trio: A Review

Hello all! I have interesting news to report. It's something that has changed the course of my entire life lately. I now have to plan my entire day around it.

My seven year old sister had gotten me hooked on Time Warp Trio.

That's right, I said Time Warp Trio. For those in the dark, it's a show on Discovery Kids TV at 6:30 and 7:30pm. For a kids show, it's suprisinly well written and far more historically acurate then most. The animation is VERY good, I think it was done on Micromedia Flash, and it's overall a very entertaining show.

The premise is cool in itself. It's about these three boys, Joe, Fred, and Sam who travel through time with this magic book that Joe was given, on his birthday, by his strange magician uncle. Now I know you might be thinking "hey, this sounds like that other thing she told us she was obsessed with..." Doctor Who? Well, I know what I like. I aparently have a fetish for shows involving Time Travel. Go figure.

Anyway, the cool part about the show, is Joe. His overall goal is to become a magician, and initially isn't very good at it. What's cool though, is that he proves himself on occastion to be very good at the whole "Time Warper" thing. I like Joe. He's a cool dude. He did this thing one time where he waved his hand and spoke all slow and mysterious and went "slow" and managed to slow down this arrow that was headed strait for Fred. It was really cool!

I don't think I have any huge complaints about the show. Usually in these reviews there's at least one thing that bugs me. I guess Time Warp Trio is pure perfection in my eyes. Like Doctor Who.

So I guess this was more of a rant then an actual review. I'd write more, but it's about to come one. I can't beleive I'm hooked on a kids show. Oh well, could be worse. It could be Tutenstien.

Parting is such sweet sorrow,

*Nelly*

Neo Blog

Picture this: You wake up early in the morning to go to school/work/rehersal/ whatever, and you head for the kitchen. You get some breakfast, maybe make a cup of tea, and you realize you have forty minutes untill you have to leave. So to kill the time, you take your food and sit down at the computer. As you eat, you check your e-mail, your favorite webcomics, Outpost Gallifrey (a Doctor Who website) if you're me, and after this is done you go and check to see if your favorite blogger, the lovely Usagi Trees, has updated her blog this morning. So you click on your favorites and scroll down till you get to "The World is Very Strange" and you click on it. As it loads you take a couple more bite of your breakfast, maybe drink some of that tea...when all of a sudden...you begin to notice...

AHHHHHH!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!! WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PAGE!!!! ALL THE COLORS ARE DIFFERENT!!!!! AND THERE'S THIS ANNOYING WELCOME PAGE!!!! WHAT'S UP WITH THAT??? AHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Well, there's no need to scream my friend (or foe, you decide), there is a perfectly logical explination for all of that. Let me explain. Earlier this evening I was "surfing" the web and discovered that there was this new version, this "beta" version of Blogger out. I firgured I'd try, because well...I have no life and I was bored. As it turns out, it's a pretty cool version. It has this cool page editor that you can use even if you have only a tiny knowledge of HTML (which would be me) and this "welcome" feature where you can annoy the hell out of your long-time readers by typing up this cute little "welcome to my blog, here's what's up" type thing.

So basically what I'm doing with this new "beta" thing is slowly re-vamping the blog. All I've done so far is play around with the colors and and a welcome thing. More might come up later, it might not (remember, I'm taking Biology this year!!) So just keep coming back to see what I've done with the place. By the time I've finally setteled on what I want it to look like and actually done, we might have a pretty snazzy looking blog here.

Oh, and while I have your attention, allow me to rant for a moment about how three new Doctor Who books have been released in the US on Amazon. THREE NEW DOCTOR WHO BOOKS HAVE BEEN RELEASED IN THE US ON AMAZON!!!! Yay.

(Oh, and I got braces today too. That's all I have to say)

Do well, thee.

*Nelly*

Nelly Explains Stuff: Sophmore Year

As of yesterday, I have completed my seventh day of tenth grade. After seven days, I think I've gotten the hang of it. Thought it will take me a while to not think of myself as a freshman. Here's what I've learned so far.

1. Being a sophmore gives you the right to throw annoying freshman boys off your table at lunch. This may seem cruel, but it's his own freshman fault for sitting at a table full of sophmore girls in the first place. Stupid kid.
   
2. Sophmore English is just Freshman English with a little more "American's Rock" stuff thrown in. I'm not kidding, I'm in honors level English and we're still doing "What makes an American?"
   
3. Mrs. Supple (the sophmore health teacher) is the most frightening yet amusing person I have ever met. Her class is histerical, but my God I'm terrified of her! She has this intimidating presence...I wouldn't want to get on her bad side.
4. No one ever guess that you're a sophmore. If you're tall, they thing you're a junior, if you're short they think you're a freshman, if you're average height they think you're either one or the other, but very rarely does anyone EVER say anything like "you're a sophmore right?"
   
5. No matter how great your school is, sophmores must always complain about it. The freshman are all too intimidated to speak any ill of their new home, the juniors are too busy to care, and the seniors figure they're getting out soon. It's up to the sophmore class to notice every little flaw in how the school is run. Wether it's "There's too much traffic" or "The lunch line is too long" or even "Look at the scratch at the wall! It's the administration's fault!!" I'm not saying it's a bad thing, I do it too (the lunch line does take TOO LONG to get through, trust me)
6. Sophmore are omnipotent. That's right, we know everything. Wether it's what teachers are good or bad, or where the health office is, we know everything! Even though my town just built a new school, so no one knows where they're going, the sophmores know still know everything. It's true, I know where you live.
   
7. Geometry is a hell of a lot better then algebra. I know I'm only seven days into it, but I can actually follow this type of math, unlike algebra (which was a nightmare I almost failed) There's some algebra in it, but it's algebra I can handle. Really.
8. Sophmores still have to take the bus. I didn't have to last year, as I lived so close to my school I could just walk. But this year, with the new school, I have to take the bus. I despise the bus, it's the most appalling mode of transportation one can ever ride in their lifetime. Granted, it's not quite as crowded as my bus back in middle school was, but I still don't like riding it. Plus, it doesn't drop me off until a little after three, meaning there's no one to pick up my sister at her school. A predicament, yes?
9. There is SOOOO much more science homework in sophmore year then in freshman year. For Monday, I have to read 6 pages, do 6 questions and summerize it, do a 4 page graph packet and write a one page paper on what I observed while nature walking on Thursday. That's just one night of homework, for one class only! And over the weekend! You want to know what I saw on that nature walk? Mushrooms. Many colored mushrooms. How can one write an entire paper on mushrooms? Who knows?
10. Surviving freshman year was quite a feat, now that you've done that, teachers tend to trust you a bit more. If you're late to class and you tell them it's because your bus is apallingly slow and was late, they beleive you. Freshman year, I couldn't have gotten away with that even if I did take the bus.
    

All and all, I'm quite liking sophmore year. It's far better then my first seven days of freshman year, where I was almost immediatly told I was failing math and my science homework was incomprehensible. Also, last in year in English we spent almost the entire first half of the year on personal narratives (so much time in fact, that I started to run out of personal experiences to write about. I'm really quite boring when you think about it) This year, though we're still on the whole "What Makes an American" topic, I know for a fact we're going to do other stuff. Maybe swith units before next semester?

A word to all you freshman out there, hang in there, it gets better. :)

Adeus Everybody! (That's suppose to mean goodbye in Portugese, don't blame me blame Bable Fish)

*Nelly*

The Early Morning Sun

Where is it? People are always talking about how beautiful the early morning sun is, it's currently 6:22 AM, and I see no sun. Why am I up so early you might ask? It's not after Labor Day yet, she can't possibly be starting school, not if she lives in New England.

New Hampshire is stupid. I am in fact starting school on August 29, today.

Although, there are many redeaming qualities to New Hampshire. Our state motto, Live Free or Die!, is a bit threatening, but we're really nothing to fear. We're mostly just Southern Maine, with some more granite. Of course Vermont technically has more granite then us, but don't tell anyone!! It's the only thing we have to our name!

So today I start school, or rather in 15 min. I start school. We have three days of good, wholesome education, and then it's intterupted for a four day Labor Day weekend. Go figure. It was even worse last year when we had one day and then the four day weekend. Most schools in New England (except maybe Rhode Island, I don't really know much about you down there, you're too small to find anything about) wouldn't dare start before Labor Day. However, New Hampshire is extremely good at "breaking the mold" from what other states like to do up here. Our vacations are different, we often won't get Columbus Day or Martin Luther King Jr. Day off. Half the time we're stuck going back to school January 2, the day after a huge party (that's the Holiday Break of course)

God New Hampshire is wierd.

It's officially 6:30 now, meaning I have to go get my stuff together so I can leave by 6:40. My cousin Miriam in Maine...sleeping right now. Her state is sane. She doesn't start until next Tuesday. Viva la Maine.

I hate New Hampshire.




I really do.


Goodbye, Good Morning actually.

*Nelly*

The Death of Sailor Pluto

The world weeps today (or rather yesterday) for the loss of the beloved planet Pluto. In the cold heartless world of astrology, Pluto no longer rates with the other large heavenly bodies of our fair Solar System. Having been demoted to the statis of "dwarf planet" we wonder, why?

Now when I say "we" what I mean is of course, Sailor Moon fans. Any person, be it fan, fanatic, hater, or neutral, anyone who has seen at least season two of the famous anime (Sailor Moon R) will know that Sailor Pluto, guardian of Time, has a crutial part in the outcome of Usagi's story.
As any die-hard fan will know, a Sailor senshi hosts the star seed of their guardian planet. Example: Sailor Mercury holds the star seed of Mercury, Sailor Saturn holds the star seed of Saturn, and until now Sailor Pluto held the star seed of Pluto. Here is were the trouble starts, now that Pluto is no longer a planet, there can be no Sailor Pluto.

Now this causes a lot of problems. First off, manga-wise, who is going to stop time so someone can grab the two Silver Crystals from Prince Dimond? The world have ended had she not done that. Also, in both versions manga and anime, Sailor Pluto is the holder of a talisman, one of the three objects needed to form the Holy Grail. Without the third talisman, the Holy Grail can't be formed, Sailor Moon can't become Super Sailor Moon, or the messiah and hence the world is not saved from the destruction of Mistress 9, the messiah of silence. And that just sucks.

And in the stars series, who is going to go and get Hotaru from her father so she can become Sailor Saturn? Of course, since Sailor Pluto wasn't there to give help create the Holy Grail, Misstress 9 would have already taken over Hotaru and there would be no hope of Sailor Saturn ever coming again. And way back in the R series, who would have given Chibi-usa the key to time? Of course, in the manga she stole it from Pluto, but who would she have to steal it from? Now Chibi-usa can't come from the future to the past to get Sailor Moon to come to the future to save her mom, who is Sailor Moon but in the future. Now the future is doomed!

And then there's the big question, who is going to guard the door to time? Time and Space are going be invaded and killed, and screwed up and it's all the intertional astronomer's fault! How can they do this? How can they take Pluto from us?

Farewell Sailor Pluto, we shall miss you dearly.

*Nelly*

The Ghosts of Prince Edward Island

Welcome to Prince Edward Island, the beautiful home of many potato farms, Anne of Green Gables, and of course a ghost named Max.

But let me make this perfectly clear, Max doesn't actually live on Prince Edward Island. In fact, Max lives somewhere in limbo when he's not busy haunting my 14-year-old cousin in Massachusetts. However, I did hear a great deal about "Max" while I was vacationing in PEI last week, so it's almost like he/she was there.

Vacationing with my cousin George is always interesting. Occasionally annoying, but definetly interesting. Someday, he'll make a great paranormal investigator. We'll being seeing him on Sci-Fi someday with his own show about ghosts and where to find them, how to help them, and how to speak to them. He'd never have to write a script for it, since it's all he talks about anyway. It would be an understatment of the the worst kind to say that he is interested in Ghosts and the paranormal. My cousin is completely obsessed. An obsession rivaled only by my obsession with Doctor Who.

The fun thing about him though, is trying to decifer exactly what it is he's talking about. He's a bit like that Road Runner character on Loonatics Unleashed (bizarre cartoon my sister aparently likes) he likes to talk quite a bit, and extremely fast. He talks so fast that almost everyone that hears has no hope of understanding what he's saying and just stands there and nods when it seems apropriate. I am a fast talker by nature, there are times my friends have hit me to get me to slow down, so If I actually listen and pay attention I can usually understand most if not all of what George says. Though I have found that since he is usually talking about the same things, I can just zone him out.

My first full day in Prince Edward Island, I went to a county fair. The day was cold and overcast, and towards the end it rained buckets but I did enjoy almost every minute of it. The vacation group consisted of myself, my cousin (and probably best friend) Miriam, my parents, my sister, my cousin Lydia, my Aunt Cathy and Uncle Mark, and of course my cousin George. Though our family is very close, we very rarely did something in which we were all together. We typically split up into two or three groups.

As is tradition, when arriving at the county fair, the first thing we did was split up. Miriam and I were together, on vacations typically if you find me you find Miriam and vice versa. George, being the third oldest cousin was put into the "Nelly/Miriam" group and given $20. As we walked head on into the games and rides part of the fair, it was early afternoon, there was no rain, we had plenty of money and life was good. Our first endevour was a fun house, the likes of which I hadn't actually been in since I was nineish. I wanted to ride the Tilt a Whirl after that, Miriam refused due to motion sickness, so I went on with George instead. I had a good time with him on it (though our car didn't really spin all that much). I managed to conquer my somewhat irrational fear of Ferris Wheels, and it turned out to be one of the most amazing experiences of the vacation. You could see the entire island from up there. If you ever get the oportunity to see a birds eye view of Prince Edward Island, do it.

The bumper cars were fun, Miriam and George and I killed eachother effectively (not literally of course, I would have to be a ghost to be writing this) My personal favortie ride, the Scrambler, was made even better by making stupid faces at George everytime his car went past mine. It was after this that the trouble started.

It all started when George said "I'm out of money", how and where he managed to spend $20 so quickly, I may never know. What this meant was though, we had to go find his mom (my Aunt Cathy) so he could ask for more money. It took us about a half an hour to find her, even with a walky-talky. George, who again talks extremely fast, was trying very hard to communicate exactly what it is he wanted to know (where are you?) to his mom on the other end. I eventually had to grab the thing away from him and ask her myself. Over the course of the day, I became quite used to doing that untill I just took it permanently. We did manage to find her and get George more money and after stopping George from letting lose the sheep and chickens downstairs ("they don't want to be locked up!") we made our way back to the rides and games.

You know how in cartoons, when it rains, the umbrella always gets blown inside out? I never thought umbrellas actually did that. I proven wrong however when my cheap, red umbrella was blown inside out by the extreme, pouring wind and rain that had apeared while we were inside looking at animals. It was gold and wet and windy, so naturally George was hell-bent on going back to games. I did manage to win a cute Sylvester the cat stuffie! It was fun at first, untill George ran out of money again...right in front of the "win a playboy bunny" stand.

He pretty much threw a fit, the likes of which I haven't seen since the trip up with my seven-year-old sister. It was actually rather amusining, watching George and me and the playboy bunny guy. We all seemed to have different goals. George's was to get money from an unspecified source (me or Miriam) and play the game to win a "bunny". Miriam's was to calm George down and let him know exactly what he would win (a playboy bunny). The playboy bunny guy's was to get George even more bent on playing the game, and aparently to hit on me. That's right, in Canada I was hit on by a playboy bunny guy. He didn't hit on Miriam, just me. He started off by calling me an either "full grown woman" or "full bodied woman" dependent on who you asked, and then just generally flirted and hit on me. Naturally, this made my goal to kick the playboy bunny guy in the balls and get George out of here and to the gate we were suppose to meet the rest of the family at. I acheived one of these goal eventually, buy dragging George by the shirt in the pouring rain, kicking and screaming, to the gate. We had an argument over which spot was actually the gate ("NO GEORGE!!! SEE HOW THERE IS NO GATE HERE!!!!! THIS IS THE SIDE OF THE FUNHOUSE!!!) and I ended up literally dragging him by his shirt in the pouring rain to the other gate, people were staring, but I was cold and wet and miserable and didn't care.

This is basically what traveling with George is like. He talks rapidly about ghosts and tries to prove he's ALWAYS right. It's really fun getting him talking with my mother, an extreme ghost sceptic. Their debates can last hours, days, or even years. So after all the ghost stuff I've been through this week, you might wonder what my opinion is on the matter. I am the daughter of the worlds most concrete sceptic Unitarian, my mother. However, I am also the cousin of the worlds most obsessed, believing, paranormalist, George. Spending a week with both of them has left me...confused.

I find it interesting, how someone can beleive something so completely one way, and how another person can beleive the exact opposite. Each person truely beleives they are right. I find it hard to side with one person because how can I just ignore someone else's beleifs? When two people try to get me to side with them, and feel so passionate about what they're telling me, how can I just pick one and cast aside that other passion. I don't quite know who to beleive. I have the same problem with religion, my beleifs are all very abstract.

Anyway, putting all the philisophical stuff aside, the trip was awsome! Prince Edward Island is absolutely beautiful, and all the dirt there is red!! It looks like that other brick road in the Wizard of Oz movie that intertwines with the yellow-brick-road. I finally know where it goes! It's also famous for being the place that "Anne of Green Gables" takes place in. Pretty much, anything you want you can find on PEI and you can find it with Anne of Green Gables plastered on it. Which is great if you're an avid fan of the books, like me. I even got to meet Anne at "Avonlea Village". I didn't actually say anything to her, but my sister got her picture taken with her. Plus I got to see Anne cream Gilbert with a slate, which made me happy. And there was the beach, an incredible swimming/rock climbing experience. The rocks were red too! It was awsome, it really was.

Oh, and if you should ever come across a ghost named Max, and they're looking for a person named George, don't scream. Calmly tell Max that George lives in Massachusetts, remember? After that, Max will probably leave, George claims that most ghosts only stick around long enough to give you a message they need delivered, and half the time don't know who they are.

Au revoir!

*Nelly*

Three Moons Over Millford: A Review

So the other day (I don't quite remember which day, it's summer you know?) I had the pleasure of catching what may or may not have been the premiere of Three Moons Over Millford. I say that because I've been gone for two weeks so they could have premiered it earlier, I wouldn't know.

My God, I hope the moon stays in tact. I always imagined the end of the world would be a bit more...frantic. The characters on the show choose to simply go about their daily lives and live life to the fullest as opposed to panicing, a good philosophy if you ask me. The term "the sky is falling" is given new meaning on this show, as the characters calmy await their impending doom.
The main premise of the show is that the moon has been hit by an asteriod (sp?) and has now split apart into three main peices with slightly smaller peices falling to Earth at random moments. The smaller falling peices, dubbed "moon chunks", have been incorperated into society. Of course, at some point in the near future for the characters, the moon is going to completely break apart, falling to Earth and destroying us all. Different people take the news differently, and the show focuses on how different people in the small town of Millford react.

On one hand, we have the seemingly mild mannared Davis family, teenagers Alex and Lydia living with their mother Laura. The family are newcomers to Millford, having moved their for buisness purposes involving their father. The father, ends up completely ditching the family so he can go climb mountains before the world ends. For some reason, this means that by the end of the first episode, the Davis family has gone from riches to rags in an hour. While Laura tries to deal with her husband's departure and the family's impending impoverishment, the teenagers get into their own amount of trouble. Alex, ends up accidentally getting romantically involved with 30-year-old Claire Ling. She thinks he's on a break from colledge, Alex having done the typical TV teenager thing and lied about his age. Lydia, in what is probably one of the most unique and amusing plots to the show, ends up burning down her school which practicing witchcraft. In her defence, she was trying to get the moon back to together. It was on Wicca.com.

Then there's this Mack guy. It's so completely obvious that he and Laura are going to have something going on in the future. Even though, some girl he used to know has just made contact with him again, it's going to end up that he and Laura pursue some kind of a relationship. No doubt, he will eventually have to decide between the two women, in a plot that reminds me incredibly of Gilmore Girls. Mack's plot isn't all bad though. The sub-plot with his mother buying him a trip around the world because she's distraught that he's never been anywhere and the world's about to end, is funny. The fact that he doesn't want to except the trip, and would rather spend the end of his days in the same town he's never left is an amusing twist as well. It's like the anti-George Baily.

All and all, the show is really good. It's a creative way of viewing the end of the world. The show focuses more on character development then plot, though that might change as more episodes air. The acting is also quite good. Much better then the recently reviewed Kyle XY. None of the actors seem like they're pushing their character, which is nice. It's a very funny, quirky, apocolyptic show.

10/10 - I hope it turns out ok for Millford.