And instead of continuing on with it, I'm going to talk about something that's currently a big focus of mine. I'm in the ensemble for a show in Fairport this summer called 'Bare: A Pop Opera.' It's a rock musical about two gay Catholic school boys and their secret relationship. AND it loosely follows the plot of 'Romeo and Juliet,' which is my favourite Shakespearean tragedy.
Not only that, but it describes ketamine as "powerful, powderful shit." I love it. I'll post a link to my favourite songs at the end. It also touches on a few currently pressing issues with modern youth, like obesity, teen pregnancy, and drug use. As well as intolerance. Intense, right? I swear I'm going to be in tears when performances start. I'm not that tight with the cast yet, but hopefully we'll all get closer as the shows draw near. Everyone's so talented and nice and wonderful.
It's July 29th, 30th, and 31st.
Come see it.
That's the end of my spiel.
Signing off.
P.S. Links!
Epiphany. Opening of the show. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfEXKZqNXSU
A Quiet Night At Home. Nadia, the overweight sister of one of the two main characters of the show, stays home instead of going to a rave with all of her friends. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voLSdm8cyEI
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
(Untitled Story) Part Two
Rehearsal didn't go as awfully as I had thought, which was a relief. Phineas and I tried to make it through 'Love Duet' without cracking up, and failed. This resulted in scornful looks from Vida and Mrs. Cuff, but we didn't mind. They stopped scaring us long ago.
After rehearsal ended, Nora and I decided to crash Phineas's house and chill for a while. What's great about Finny's house is that he always has a well-stocked fridge. I guess it's an Irish thing. For about two hours, we just sat in his basement and talked, accompanied by some leftover lemon bars and herbal teas At about 7:00 pm, we got up and left. As Nora and I pulled into my driveway, we noticed something odd. My mom's car wasn't in the driveway.
"Where's your mom?" asked Nora. In my mind, I was asking the same question.
"Maybe she's out grocery shopping or something. Want to come in for a bit? I don't like being home alone."
I hated lying to her. It's not that I don't like being home alone, I just needed something to distract me from that dark, pressing feeling in my gut that always foreshadowed something terrible. I have a knack for predicting things. Helpful at times, but there are some occasions when it's not such a party.
After watching Dr. Horrible in my basement, we decided to go back up to my room and assemble possible outfits for my Lookbook. I lent her some of my clothes and she lent me some of hers(We're best friends. It's how we work.) At about 10:45, Nora said she had to go home. We were both getting tired anyhow. Before going to bed myself, I looked out of my window to see if my mom had returned. Her car was nowhere to be found.
Melinda Alice, stop being so negative. She probably just got held up at the office or something. And maybe her phone died. Or she lost it. Or something. Just go to bed.
Seeing as I can't say no to my own conscience, I changed into my PJ's, shut off the lights and crawled into bed.
As soon as I wake up the next morning, I smelled something heavenly coming from our kitchen. I panicked immediately. What is going on? I thought to myself. Mom can't cook! The closest thing to an actual breakfast that she made was leftover pizza we stuck in the microwave for a bit. Sketchy...
I crept downstairs to check it out, and sure enough my mother was making my favourite- frittata with vegetables and virgin strawberry daquiris. I knew something was up.
"Special occasion?" I asked, trying my hardest not to look skeptical as I watched her flip the egg delights with surprising expertise.
"No, not necessarily. Sit down, honey. I have something to tell you."
I obliged. She set a breakfast plate in front of me, and said:
HAHA YOU ALL HAVE TO WAIT TO SEE WHAT SHE SAID HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
After rehearsal ended, Nora and I decided to crash Phineas's house and chill for a while. What's great about Finny's house is that he always has a well-stocked fridge. I guess it's an Irish thing. For about two hours, we just sat in his basement and talked, accompanied by some leftover lemon bars and herbal teas At about 7:00 pm, we got up and left. As Nora and I pulled into my driveway, we noticed something odd. My mom's car wasn't in the driveway.
"Where's your mom?" asked Nora. In my mind, I was asking the same question.
"Maybe she's out grocery shopping or something. Want to come in for a bit? I don't like being home alone."
I hated lying to her. It's not that I don't like being home alone, I just needed something to distract me from that dark, pressing feeling in my gut that always foreshadowed something terrible. I have a knack for predicting things. Helpful at times, but there are some occasions when it's not such a party.
After watching Dr. Horrible in my basement, we decided to go back up to my room and assemble possible outfits for my Lookbook. I lent her some of my clothes and she lent me some of hers(We're best friends. It's how we work.) At about 10:45, Nora said she had to go home. We were both getting tired anyhow. Before going to bed myself, I looked out of my window to see if my mom had returned. Her car was nowhere to be found.
Melinda Alice, stop being so negative. She probably just got held up at the office or something. And maybe her phone died. Or she lost it. Or something. Just go to bed.
Seeing as I can't say no to my own conscience, I changed into my PJ's, shut off the lights and crawled into bed.
As soon as I wake up the next morning, I smelled something heavenly coming from our kitchen. I panicked immediately. What is going on? I thought to myself. Mom can't cook! The closest thing to an actual breakfast that she made was leftover pizza we stuck in the microwave for a bit. Sketchy...
I crept downstairs to check it out, and sure enough my mother was making my favourite- frittata with vegetables and virgin strawberry daquiris. I knew something was up.
"Special occasion?" I asked, trying my hardest not to look skeptical as I watched her flip the egg delights with surprising expertise.
"No, not necessarily. Sit down, honey. I have something to tell you."
I obliged. She set a breakfast plate in front of me, and said:
HAHA YOU ALL HAVE TO WAIT TO SEE WHAT SHE SAID HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Monday, June 21, 2010
(Untitled Blog Story) Part One
I woke up that Saturday morning feeling like crap. Not feeling like P.Diddy like one is SUPPOSED to on a Saturday, but with the hanging dread that I have been feeling every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday morning for the past month.
I had rehearsal today.
In most cases, I'm totally okay with waking up early to practice dance routines and run lines and what have you. And about half of the time I enjoy it! But this time it wasn't all good and dandy. Partially because we were putting on 'Starmites,' which is the worst show on the face of the planet. Also, most of the casting was TERRIBLY chosen for the most part. My friend Phineas was cast as Space Punk, a stroke of casting genius, and I was cast as Eleanor. I fail to see the genius there.
As I walked out the door in my usual hipster garb, I saw my friend Nora waiting outside in a sketchy-looking white van. Most people see a van like that and immediately assume that the driver is an unshaven pedophile and that it contains five or so small children and shit tons of used condoms. However, Nora was my best friend and the inside of her car was decked out with Skillet posters and old records and stuff like that. Best ride ever.
Since I was a mere fifteen year-old, I couldn't drive to rehearsal in the mornihgs. Thankfully, Nora was seventeen and could drive me there. She was a techie too, which was pretty damn convenient. I dragged my feet theatrically as I approached the automobile, and as I opened the passenger side door she greeted me with a skeptical look.
"What's with the swagger, Lindy? Did you hurt yourself brushing your teeth?" said Nora, in her usual sarcastic way.
"I just really don't want to go to rehearsal today. Mrs. Cuff is just going to make racist jokes and dote on Vida the whole time, like she does every day. Can't we just skip?" I responded hopefully. Given the circumstances, Nora might have agreed with me. But...
"Not again, sweetheart. You've already skipped, what, five rehearsals so far? If you want Cuff to cast you again you won't miss another one. Now hop in." I hated that she was so right. I sat down, buckled up, and we drove off.
Cuffster wasn't there when we walked into the auditorium, so Nora and I just sat and talked to Phineas. Phineas was named after the main character in 'A Separate Peace,' which was quite fitting since he was about as gay as Neil Patrick Harris in a rainbow t-shirt sipping a moccachino in a low-key NYC cafe. He hated his name with a passion.
As we chatted casually about the weather and the importance of brussels sprouts in one's diet, Mrs. Cuff walked in with Lee. Mrs. Jane Cuff was a frumpy woman, mid-fifties, whose pleasant demeanor made good first impressions on most people- until she directed plays she was in. When she's in director mode, she's a no-nonsense drill seargeant with the sense of humor of a small brick. The only exception of this scary-as-fuck persona was her protege, Vida Burkowitz. Vida was the overachiever of the junior class, who would be a pretty great person were it not for the fact that the only way she could get more neurotic was if someone shoved a menorah up her ass.. Maybe I wouldn't be so harsh if she hadn't become my consistent frenemy for the past year.
TO BE CONTINIUED. TOO TIRED TO WRITE MORE.
I had rehearsal today.
In most cases, I'm totally okay with waking up early to practice dance routines and run lines and what have you. And about half of the time I enjoy it! But this time it wasn't all good and dandy. Partially because we were putting on 'Starmites,' which is the worst show on the face of the planet. Also, most of the casting was TERRIBLY chosen for the most part. My friend Phineas was cast as Space Punk, a stroke of casting genius, and I was cast as Eleanor. I fail to see the genius there.
As I walked out the door in my usual hipster garb, I saw my friend Nora waiting outside in a sketchy-looking white van. Most people see a van like that and immediately assume that the driver is an unshaven pedophile and that it contains five or so small children and shit tons of used condoms. However, Nora was my best friend and the inside of her car was decked out with Skillet posters and old records and stuff like that. Best ride ever.
Since I was a mere fifteen year-old, I couldn't drive to rehearsal in the mornihgs. Thankfully, Nora was seventeen and could drive me there. She was a techie too, which was pretty damn convenient. I dragged my feet theatrically as I approached the automobile, and as I opened the passenger side door she greeted me with a skeptical look.
"What's with the swagger, Lindy? Did you hurt yourself brushing your teeth?" said Nora, in her usual sarcastic way.
"I just really don't want to go to rehearsal today. Mrs. Cuff is just going to make racist jokes and dote on Vida the whole time, like she does every day. Can't we just skip?" I responded hopefully. Given the circumstances, Nora might have agreed with me. But...
"Not again, sweetheart. You've already skipped, what, five rehearsals so far? If you want Cuff to cast you again you won't miss another one. Now hop in." I hated that she was so right. I sat down, buckled up, and we drove off.
Cuffster wasn't there when we walked into the auditorium, so Nora and I just sat and talked to Phineas. Phineas was named after the main character in 'A Separate Peace,' which was quite fitting since he was about as gay as Neil Patrick Harris in a rainbow t-shirt sipping a moccachino in a low-key NYC cafe. He hated his name with a passion.
As we chatted casually about the weather and the importance of brussels sprouts in one's diet, Mrs. Cuff walked in with Lee. Mrs. Jane Cuff was a frumpy woman, mid-fifties, whose pleasant demeanor made good first impressions on most people- until she directed plays she was in. When she's in director mode, she's a no-nonsense drill seargeant with the sense of humor of a small brick. The only exception of this scary-as-fuck persona was her protege, Vida Burkowitz. Vida was the overachiever of the junior class, who would be a pretty great person were it not for the fact that the only way she could get more neurotic was if someone shoved a menorah up her ass.. Maybe I wouldn't be so harsh if she hadn't become my consistent frenemy for the past year.
TO BE CONTINIUED. TOO TIRED TO WRITE MORE.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Inspiration! Yeah!
Hello, my children.
My good friend Andrew has just finished posting his first story on his blog(http://www.anyonelisteningblog.blogspot.com/), and it has inspired me to write stories on here. Problem is, I have really bad writer's block. It never goes away. Like herpes- WAIT WHAT WHO SAID THAT????
Anyhow, if anyone has any brilliant ideas PLEASE let me know. I kind of have one, but not really, and it's confusing.
So go ahead.
Tell me what you want to read.
Signing off.
My good friend Andrew has just finished posting his first story on his blog(http://www.anyonelisteningblog.blogspot.com/), and it has inspired me to write stories on here. Problem is, I have really bad writer's block. It never goes away. Like herpes- WAIT WHAT WHO SAID THAT????
Anyhow, if anyone has any brilliant ideas PLEASE let me know. I kind of have one, but not really, and it's confusing.
So go ahead.
Tell me what you want to read.
Signing off.
Monday, June 14, 2010
I'm a copycat.
My good friend Keavy posted a list on her blog (http://gowatchthegeek.wordpress.com/) entitled "Things I like about myself." I have decided to do the same. Enjoy.
Things I Like About Myself:
1) My diverse taste in music.
2) My sense of humor
3) My freckles
4) How I get along with (most) people
5) My taste in literature
6) My passion. I'm a very passionate person.
7) My contentedness with life.
8) My collarbone (don't judge me. I have a thing for collarbones.)
9) My voice, speaking and otherwise.
10) My eyebrows.
11) My taste in clothing.
12) How I write good stories and poems
13) My belly button(INNIES UNITE!)
14) How affectionate I am.
15) My chicken wrists. Annoying when it comes to bracelets, but very graceful-looking.
NOW YOU. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF?
Things I Like About Myself:
1) My diverse taste in music.
2) My sense of humor
3) My freckles
4) How I get along with (most) people
5) My taste in literature
6) My passion. I'm a very passionate person.
7) My contentedness with life.
8) My collarbone (don't judge me. I have a thing for collarbones.)
9) My voice, speaking and otherwise.
10) My eyebrows.
11) My taste in clothing.
12) How I write good stories and poems
13) My belly button(INNIES UNITE!)
14) How affectionate I am.
15) My chicken wrists. Annoying when it comes to bracelets, but very graceful-looking.
NOW YOU. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life...
... but define yourself." -Harvey S. Firestone.
I figured I'd get a little personal today and write about something that's always bugged me about high school. Bullying.
I don't see a lot of it at my high school, but there are a few times when I feel like I'm about to explode because of someone being treated unfairly by someone "superior." I absolutely hate it.
In case you couldn't tell, I've had my fair share of unfair treatment by my classmates(understatement. I've had WAY too much.) From the sixth grade up until the beginning of the eighth, I was living in Florida. Worst few years of my life. For all of that time, I hardly had any friends and the few that I did have weren't exactly faithful. I remember a few times when I would be walking down the street and some jerks would throw garbage, or even rocks, at me from a passing car window. People would stalk me and call me names, or pretend to be my friend for a week or two and then dash my hopes by treating me like dirt before ignoring me completely.
Needless to say, I grew a tough shell after that.
People tend to think of bullying as it is portrayed on TV or in books; people hanging you upside down to shake your lunch money out of your pockets, or starting fights in the middle of the hallway with dozens of bystanders yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!" But there's so much more to bullying than that. People fail to realize that not all bullying is physical. There's an emotional aspect to it, and that leaves a deeper welt in someone than a sucker punch or a slap across the face ever will.
Signing off.
I figured I'd get a little personal today and write about something that's always bugged me about high school. Bullying.
I don't see a lot of it at my high school, but there are a few times when I feel like I'm about to explode because of someone being treated unfairly by someone "superior." I absolutely hate it.
In case you couldn't tell, I've had my fair share of unfair treatment by my classmates(understatement. I've had WAY too much.) From the sixth grade up until the beginning of the eighth, I was living in Florida. Worst few years of my life. For all of that time, I hardly had any friends and the few that I did have weren't exactly faithful. I remember a few times when I would be walking down the street and some jerks would throw garbage, or even rocks, at me from a passing car window. People would stalk me and call me names, or pretend to be my friend for a week or two and then dash my hopes by treating me like dirt before ignoring me completely.
Needless to say, I grew a tough shell after that.
People tend to think of bullying as it is portrayed on TV or in books; people hanging you upside down to shake your lunch money out of your pockets, or starting fights in the middle of the hallway with dozens of bystanders yelling "Fight! Fight! Fight!" But there's so much more to bullying than that. People fail to realize that not all bullying is physical. There's an emotional aspect to it, and that leaves a deeper welt in someone than a sucker punch or a slap across the face ever will.
Signing off.
Monday, May 31, 2010
ALL THE SINGLE LADIES!
I was listening to my iPod(hence the mainstream lyric title) and chatting with peoples on Facebook, when I had this epiphany.
Girls can be bitches.
I mean, think about it! Boys tend to whine about their problems(and, believe it or not, the amount of time they beat each other up about these is very low), but girls are catty. Girls spread rumors. Girls break hearts.
I know I shouldn't really be saying this considering I don't exactly have an extra chromosome of my own, but it's true! I myself have been bitchy to so-called "friends" and a she-douche to an old boyfriend or two, so I would know!
So, girls, have you done something mean to someone that you never pictured yourself doing? And guys, have you been hurt by a girl?
Girls can be bitches.
I mean, think about it! Boys tend to whine about their problems(and, believe it or not, the amount of time they beat each other up about these is very low), but girls are catty. Girls spread rumors. Girls break hearts.
I know I shouldn't really be saying this considering I don't exactly have an extra chromosome of my own, but it's true! I myself have been bitchy to so-called "friends" and a she-douche to an old boyfriend or two, so I would know!
So, girls, have you done something mean to someone that you never pictured yourself doing? And guys, have you been hurt by a girl?
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