"I am your neighbor and a liar. By the way, do you have Zoe's number?"
I'm neglecting to go to bed because 1., I am a rebel, and more importantly, 2., I drank an entire thing of diet coke after finishing my sour patch kids at the movies. Naturally, I had to pee like a mother, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from the film. This was a very special movie. But the nub and thrust is that I had a lot of caffeine, so, I won't be going to bed and having colorful, surreal dreams of my own anytime soon.
I'm sorry my roommates are both asleep. Damn it, why don't they ask you that question on the housing application? "Do you prefer to stay up late" or something. All they asked was "Are you an early riser?" Well, fuck no. Neither are my roommates, exactly. Everyone sleeps in given the chance. But just because some people aren't early risers does not mean that they don't go to bed before midnight. The very thought of sleeping prior to midnight disturbs me. I haven't done it in ages. I don't need to do it- and besides, I think best always at night. So, in my current living situation, I merely stay awake in semi-to-mostly darkness, typing or reading or some such nonsense, trying to be quiet but nevertheless having to hear the agitated tossing and turning of one or more of my roommates. I really am becoming desperate to live in an apartment, and one where I can have my one bathroom at that. With the beginning of the 8 am Creative Design class Jilian and I share, I have discovered that getting ready in the morning is impossible. Someone has to forfeit the sink, and because I have an aversion to waking, it's probably going to be me most of the time. Agh.
Anyhoo, the 8 am class is a bummer. I hope it gets more interesting. I would love to learn how people design sets and lights and sound, because it's something I can't do myself. But it is exceedingly difficult when I'm not awake. Terrance, the lively MFA teaching the class, has tried to keep it interesting so far, but at that time in the morning, it's impossible. I was really quite tired today, because I went to bed late (as usual), because I was reading. I told you all I was going to read all those books I had been meaning to read for forever. It's costing me sleep, but I can feel my mind expanding, I tell you. It thrives off of good reading, informative or fictional. Frankly it thrives off of anything new. Which explains my horrid disinterest in MGF1107.
What a piece of shit class. I hate it already, just like I've always hated math, and what's worse is that most of it is math I am familiar with but am being dragged through again because I didn't pay enough attention the first time to get a high enough score to fulfill the requirement. I am sorry to anyone who enjoys math; I know you must find beauty somewhere in the numbers, and I respect that, but I can't replicate it. I'm sure you often feel the same about, oh, I don't know, poetry? Shakespeare? Stanislavski's method acting? Not that you're illiterate or don't like poetry, literature, or theatre, for that matter, but to some extent- oh, screw it. It's too late for speculations as to what math people don't like. The point is, I don't like math.
In other news, Performance is shaping up to look like an amazing class. We have a monologue due Friday, which is glee. Today in performance, George Judy was talking about the difference between acting and pretending. When you are acting, you are becoming that person in that situation. It isn't an absense of awareness, but a heightened sense of awareness, as in, I am in this moment, in this scene, and aware of the audience and the theatre and everything around me. Acting is actually experiencing the feelings, letting your body take over and react and live, letting the lines come out as your own words....
Anyways, I have Spanish and Oceanography tomorrow. I can't make anything of Spanish yet. The only thing I know is that I would prefer the Spanish teacher to speak in Spanish. I often felt this frustration with Antonio last semester and began to feel it during the first class of this semester. Spanish teachers don't necessarily have bad English- but it's tedious for them to speak it. It takes longer, it's broken, and it's uncomfortable for me. I want the class to go faster than that. Screw the imbeciles who don't understand it, let them privately ask questions. This is a 3000 level class, can you please let it be challenging for once, damn it?
Amusingly enough, Oceanography is a dead class. I've only been once so far- which reminds me, I don't have oceanography tomorrow because I have theatre forum during that time- but when I walked into the room for the first time- dead silence. Absolute and complete silence. People would make eye contact, acknowledge each other, and no one would say a word. People filtered in, sat down, and silence persisted. The professor looked slightly bewildered, but made no attempt to break said silence. I wanted to scream. Sing. Jump up and jig. It was dreadful. So, I twiddled my thumbs and smirked at the humor of the situation- it was absurd. It was the kind of bullshit experimental theatre artists would make people to pay money to see. When the professor started talking, it was no better. Still silence, and this little man's soft voice and gentle jokes. I wonder if he would've been that way if we'd've been boisterous, like that scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life, when the schoolboys are all sitting quietly in the classroom until the schoolteacher is spotted walking down the hall. "He's coming!" And they all break out into chaos, sitting on desktops and throwing airplanes and carrying on so that the professor has to demand order upon entering the room.
In the meantime- I've become tired. Now I can go dream of a Gael Garcia Bernal, named Stephane, submerged in a bathtub of blue and white cellophane, inserted into a desk, in the office where he works, where an annoying and also completely naked coworker suddenly materialises to join him, then helps him write a ridiculous letter in garbled French to his neighbor and love interest, who doesn't yet know he is her neighbor, but probably thinks he is interested in her friend, named Zoe....
I'm sorry my roommates are both asleep. Damn it, why don't they ask you that question on the housing application? "Do you prefer to stay up late" or something. All they asked was "Are you an early riser?" Well, fuck no. Neither are my roommates, exactly. Everyone sleeps in given the chance. But just because some people aren't early risers does not mean that they don't go to bed before midnight. The very thought of sleeping prior to midnight disturbs me. I haven't done it in ages. I don't need to do it- and besides, I think best always at night. So, in my current living situation, I merely stay awake in semi-to-mostly darkness, typing or reading or some such nonsense, trying to be quiet but nevertheless having to hear the agitated tossing and turning of one or more of my roommates. I really am becoming desperate to live in an apartment, and one where I can have my one bathroom at that. With the beginning of the 8 am Creative Design class Jilian and I share, I have discovered that getting ready in the morning is impossible. Someone has to forfeit the sink, and because I have an aversion to waking, it's probably going to be me most of the time. Agh.
Anyhoo, the 8 am class is a bummer. I hope it gets more interesting. I would love to learn how people design sets and lights and sound, because it's something I can't do myself. But it is exceedingly difficult when I'm not awake. Terrance, the lively MFA teaching the class, has tried to keep it interesting so far, but at that time in the morning, it's impossible. I was really quite tired today, because I went to bed late (as usual), because I was reading. I told you all I was going to read all those books I had been meaning to read for forever. It's costing me sleep, but I can feel my mind expanding, I tell you. It thrives off of good reading, informative or fictional. Frankly it thrives off of anything new. Which explains my horrid disinterest in MGF1107.
What a piece of shit class. I hate it already, just like I've always hated math, and what's worse is that most of it is math I am familiar with but am being dragged through again because I didn't pay enough attention the first time to get a high enough score to fulfill the requirement. I am sorry to anyone who enjoys math; I know you must find beauty somewhere in the numbers, and I respect that, but I can't replicate it. I'm sure you often feel the same about, oh, I don't know, poetry? Shakespeare? Stanislavski's method acting? Not that you're illiterate or don't like poetry, literature, or theatre, for that matter, but to some extent- oh, screw it. It's too late for speculations as to what math people don't like. The point is, I don't like math.
In other news, Performance is shaping up to look like an amazing class. We have a monologue due Friday, which is glee. Today in performance, George Judy was talking about the difference between acting and pretending. When you are acting, you are becoming that person in that situation. It isn't an absense of awareness, but a heightened sense of awareness, as in, I am in this moment, in this scene, and aware of the audience and the theatre and everything around me. Acting is actually experiencing the feelings, letting your body take over and react and live, letting the lines come out as your own words....
Anyways, I have Spanish and Oceanography tomorrow. I can't make anything of Spanish yet. The only thing I know is that I would prefer the Spanish teacher to speak in Spanish. I often felt this frustration with Antonio last semester and began to feel it during the first class of this semester. Spanish teachers don't necessarily have bad English- but it's tedious for them to speak it. It takes longer, it's broken, and it's uncomfortable for me. I want the class to go faster than that. Screw the imbeciles who don't understand it, let them privately ask questions. This is a 3000 level class, can you please let it be challenging for once, damn it?
Amusingly enough, Oceanography is a dead class. I've only been once so far- which reminds me, I don't have oceanography tomorrow because I have theatre forum during that time- but when I walked into the room for the first time- dead silence. Absolute and complete silence. People would make eye contact, acknowledge each other, and no one would say a word. People filtered in, sat down, and silence persisted. The professor looked slightly bewildered, but made no attempt to break said silence. I wanted to scream. Sing. Jump up and jig. It was dreadful. So, I twiddled my thumbs and smirked at the humor of the situation- it was absurd. It was the kind of bullshit experimental theatre artists would make people to pay money to see. When the professor started talking, it was no better. Still silence, and this little man's soft voice and gentle jokes. I wonder if he would've been that way if we'd've been boisterous, like that scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life, when the schoolboys are all sitting quietly in the classroom until the schoolteacher is spotted walking down the hall. "He's coming!" And they all break out into chaos, sitting on desktops and throwing airplanes and carrying on so that the professor has to demand order upon entering the room.
In the meantime- I've become tired. Now I can go dream of a Gael Garcia Bernal, named Stephane, submerged in a bathtub of blue and white cellophane, inserted into a desk, in the office where he works, where an annoying and also completely naked coworker suddenly materialises to join him, then helps him write a ridiculous letter in garbled French to his neighbor and love interest, who doesn't yet know he is her neighbor, but probably thinks he is interested in her friend, named Zoe....