The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Host: "Hamlet to Hamilton: Exploring Verse Drama" | Founder: TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS | Author: "Cupid and Psyche" "Nachtsturm Castle" & Others | Caitlin O'Sullivan in "The Ghost Ship" (Boston Metaphysical Society)

Sunday, March 28, 2004

We are men, manly men, we're men in tights!

Tight tights! (Whoosh. Whump.)

Hit Me Baby One More Time a la Billy Boyd on again. Such a sweet voice. Such a shame the song was first sung by that non-musical gahfemme. Blaugh. Sad when good music is ruined by silly lyrics and worse initial presentation. Anywho....

I just saw the pics that Dad took of the last two performances of MSND - suh-weeeeet! :) They look so good - I'm feeling quite sniffly about that play. Not in a bad way but in a, "Gosh, that was a good play," way. GEE-orgeous. (Mahvellous dahlink, simply maaaaaaaaaahvellous. Feel the unaccountable need to watch a Poirot mystery a la David Suchet and BBC/A&E.) Must skeedaddle. Odd dream about rolls of film, Mormons and cops. A little frightening, actually - the plotline. Couldn't quite break myself out of it. Thank God for alarms! Insistent ones at that.

And the return to nothingness continues. Pardonez-moi, mes cheres. How to waste bytes in ten easy steps. Good golly Billy Boyd has really good breath control. Fwah.

Mood: Mellow, yo.
Music: Regard en haute.
Thought: It's sad that in this day and age we, women in particular, have been so hurt by a generation of non-fathering fathers that many of us feel that we cannot trust a man who could father. Lord, oh give us MEN! And great, holy priests, amen!

Give me a si-i-i-ign!

I can never hear the Hit Me Baby One More Time song without thinking of our alternate lyrics. I always think people are singing it wrong when they sing the original lyrics. Huh...rather like how songs I've choreographed take a good year before I can hear the music without thinking of the choreography. Anywho, some random thoughts:

  • Saw Wizard of Oz tonight at Nashoba. Still not a fan of the plot, but the show was admirably done. Great effects and the melting was beautiful. Very impressed with the lights, costumes, sound, fog/glitter/etc. Good casting all round. One of the actors I had seen in the fall show and although he was well cast in both productions, I'm sad that he isn't cast in something that will stretch him more as an actor. It always bothers me when we as high school directors (or any directors, for that matter) PUSH people into a "type." We do this as a society: box people in, refuse to make them see that they themselves are more than their self-affixed label. Poot. Couldn't help thinking the entire time of my version of Oz - it's an unfortunate side-effect of having done a show and then see same (or similar) show. Oxytosin-esque? Anywho.... A night well spent. And it was good to go with Peter as well.

  • Last night saw West Side Story over at Marlborough. Alas, I had heard very mean and spiteful things about it and so I went to it with sub-zero expectations. Ergo I was pleasantly surprised at more than anticipated in the show. The chorus of the Jets were...FWAH (Marlborough always has good chorus), and some of the dancing was very nice. Anita was supurb, as was Anyways (man, someday must do West Side just so that I can play up Anyways even more...Baby John and Chino as well...), and "Officer Krumpke" (sp?) was the smash number. Unfortunately Tony was miscast - I felt more badly for the actor however. He was trying his hardest and I think had he been pushed he could have pulled off Tony well, but he wasn't instructed to do much more than stand still. Maria is a talented actress but also wasn't pushed - "sweet young things" are always more difficult to play than any other role and this actress is used to the character parts and so wasn't really prepped for the main role - again, she had the voice and chops for it but not the direction, it seems. Some day M. Pacific should get a great part. He's always being shunted into extraneous not-quite-supporting-roles but there's so much in him just waiting to shine out. *sigh* Some day some director will see his value and let him just go full out.

  • When casting, it is as important to consider what good, solid and/or even great actors are hankering to play, as well as what they would "normally" be cast as. I'm thinking Pirates here when we "cross-cast" a few of the roles in part because the actors made it supremely apparent that they'd been dying to do such and such a role. Enthusiasm and a true love for the character will, in the performance of the part, usually if not always outweigh "type." Passion is the key, not mere repetition. The actors must be made to expand, experiment, learn, and grow, as much as anyone involved in the theatre. The director who ruts himself into this or that genre is signing his own creative death-warrant. Just as in anything, for theatre to be living her denizens must live.

  • This evening I ran into The Body Politick. Quite unexpected meeting. Not a little flattering in a backhanded sort of way. Not a little daunting, as well - not necessarily with this particular Body Politick - but rather with the thought of one's entire career. I had forgotten that such dealings may be part of what is coming with where I seem to be led. However, God is good, and it is wonderful to have done so many "independent" thingummies because I have been given the grace - and a real grace it is! - to know that I may be autonomous with my directorial choices. I am not beholden to any production company unless I so desire to work with them. Which is not to say that I desire to be without a production company all the time, nor that I look upon production companies with distaste, but rather it alleviates the internal anguish that seems to be the normal state for most so-called "artistic types." See the musical summary at the top of A Chorus Line: "God I hope I get it, I've got to get it!" In all our "business" of the theatre, we forget the point of the theatre which is to tell stories that change lives: our own and others. It's for joy and beauty and goodness and if you're in it for the prestige or the money or the reassurance you've forgotten the simple pleasure of backyard make-believe. I often joke that I've received a degree in dress-up, but the fact is that there is no better - for me - degree than to keep playing pretend and sharing my dreams with others. Jules and I were talking about it today on the first leg of our fabulously long walk (we went through the cemetary and then over to Concord Road Park and took the long paved way round and must go back there more frequently - what? Actual natural beauty available in this city? Quick, rush back to it! Look a patch of blue! Let us chase it!). Mom and Dad have always encouraged us to do what we love, rather than forcing us to go for grades, money, acclaim, etc. That is to say, they have encouraged us to do what we love with an eye to being practical and moral at the same time - which prevents us from doing stupid things like growing mushrooms in the cellar or running off to Bangladesh in order to become film stars a la Gonzo (in reverse respectiveness).

  • I apparently am being talked about. Weird. Of greater concern is that Les Mis may not go through. Of more immediate consideration is the reason why certain events have happened - phone numbers must be secured and maybe coffee had and backstory gotten in order to know with what I will be dealing. The sadness of losing autonomy - but that's alright. It's just good to do homework before rushing off to the test. So, should Les Mis fall through, I'm thinking maybe Man of La Mancha (with lots of gender changes - Innkeeper, Barber, etc.?), or maybe seeing if I could get Thrushbeard together in time (ha - although it was fun singing the songs on the way home. Peter loves the "You, Wonderful You" song, esp. the second verse wherein we have such temporary lyrics as: "You, incredible you/Inedible you/Who I just/Want to run away from and darn she caught my leg....") Hmmm, other potential plays? Must do Guys and Dolls sometime, but I think that's a no since it was done at MHS just a few years ago, ditto for Fiddler, wonder what Jeckyll and Hyde is like and if is any good.... But wait, just checked out the restrictions and I don't see anything immediately difficult about it...so we don't have the three college students in this particular production. They can help out on costumes or backstage or something. Lord, Thy will be done, amen. (Besides, I'm dying to do my "Little Kiss of Rain" and "Stars." Hrumph.) Ragtime might not be bad, (Moby Dick the Musical...? Oh gag...), maybe Godspell, even though that was done three years ago at Hudson High, Music Man would be awesome and I think we could pull off the barbershop quartet.... King and I? Carousel? The Sound of Music? And what is Pirates doing on MTI?!??!?!?! (Oooh, over on Tams-Witmark they've got the Scarlet Pimpernel...ooooh! And Titanic, huh....) Wait, they've got G&S and SHAKESPEARE??!?!??!?! They're royalty-free! Gah. Which brings me to....

  • Royalties etc. Did I mention this already? I hate royalties. Or rather, I hate all these restrictions put onto plays by their "estates." Look, theatre is an organic thing, right? And no playwright from Sophocles on down is infallible. Every production needs to be tailored to who is playing the role, to who the play is being performed for, to the state of the world and the universality AND particularity of the message. The movie versions of Chicago, West Side Story and The Sound of Music are WORLDS better than their original stage productions. The recent Trevor Nunn production of Oklahoma! makes the play finally worthwhile. There is nothing wrong with playing with the text. But these random companies have decided that they own these pieces and will put restrictions on them (in conjunction with the creators or their heirs, of course) and the result it a lack of interest in artistry, a stale interest in profit (with interest...heh, couldn't contain myself), and intellectual hubris on the behalf of the creators/owners/heirs and resulting promulgation of intellectual atrophy on the side of the local directors. Gah gah gah. WHAT IS THEATRE FOR IF WE CONSISTENTLY DENY ITS ORGANIC NATURE??!?!?!??!!? Is there death of theatre? Yes - it's called turning it into business. It's rather like all this nonsense with so-called "gay marriage" (or as Peter would point out: "happy marriage? Yes, I'm all for that!" I love my brother!). Let's change what is to what it is not and then wonder why what is is impotent. Blaugh blaugh blaugh.

  • The "Lavender Mafia" bothers me. It goes back to the self-defining restricting of type. As well as the business aspect of everything. It saddens me to see people huddling together towards the LM for unconscious dread of being ousted from the theatrical circuit. Julie is fabulous and points out that in theatre we keep returning in order to regain some semblance of life (by we, I mean we who create theatre in particular or at least in this particular case). Unfortunately - although unsurprisingly given that in theatre we work very hard to batter down all our personal inhibitions but forget that this lowering of all defenses is meant for the stage and not for the house (heh, sorry, the puns keep coming! ;P) - many of those who are working in the "upper eschelons" (sp?) of the theatre (the big theatre - oy am I abusing my parenthetical remarks or what? %}) are part of the LM. And unless one either a) is part of the LM by dint of what one does or b) is not rejected by the LM by dint of what one professes, one may be assured a part in the theatre. It's all part and parcel of the Body Politick. And let me clarify that the LM isn't really about preference, but rather about the complete secularization - no, not secularization, but rather neo-paganization (not wiccanism, but rather the return to paganism, although even that denigrates the noble pagans, but I can think of no better term, since it is not completely aetheism although it may be a return to the mouth of Moloch or Baal) - of the last secular sacred space.

  • I shall try to clarify my remarks: the theatre has been associated with religion since the beginning. Bacchus was the god of the theatre, but Apollo also - chaos and order, rhyme and reason, joviality and grandeur, the low and the high. And so should it be. For in theatre we open a world to that which might have been which feels more real than what is that is a mirror of what is or a window to that which should have been. Theatre is like a communal experience of the divine, and God Himself is the master of all mirth and He became all sorrow. Theatre is tactile, as is mass, as are we. Theatre is fleeting and yet promises eternity - for although the time passes wherein the performance occurs, yet we the audience and yes even we the actors of our small drama feel that the show continues in its own time and space - hence we are given another glimpse of Heaven which is outside of time and space. Theatre is that place wherein we examine ourselves rather as though in a confessional: we expose our shadows to purge them from our bodies, we reach for the infinite the ineffible for truth through song and dance and inadequte words in metre and rhyme. We clothe ourselves in garments that more truly reveal who we are, in ritualistic fashion. We create for ourselves faces more like our inner selves or more like our transfigured selves. And in this transformation of ourselves into an individual we cease to worry about ourselves but concern ourselves solely with the good of others and with the greater purpose of the show itself. Our part cannot be repeated by another actor, no matter how much he studies our every tick and gesture. Our play is for that time, for ourselves and for others. When done rightly, it is utterly selfless - it is freely given and freely received. When done rightly we all leave the space without having abandoned it ever.

  • But there is the temptation to make ourselves into gods. There is the temptation to presume the magic is our own doing and not the result of a God far higher than the machine. There is the temptation to grow small and mean and petty and caught up with self-glorification, with playing one actor against the other, with the fear and envy of our fellow thespians - and as a consequence we become a group of self-absorbed pleasure-seekers, willing to sell ourselves for a conjugal embrace as readily as milk the fleeting standing-O. When we do not seek to transport what we learned in the theatre to real life but rather seek to reenact our performances, we fail as dramatists, yes - but even more as men. Art is not life, nor life art, nor will wishing make it so - but the two although not synonymous are not therefore aliens but rather neighbours and best when old married lovers, equally yoked.

  • There is no gain but through loss. There is nothing gained if one becomes an artistic miser, a Silas Marner of the footlights - but there is everything gained if one goes and learns and is humble enough to hear where one has misstepped and is gracious enough to encourage with love and correct with gentleness. I have not yet mastered these - I hope to someday.

    And now to finish my report for tomorrow's debriefing. How shall I manage it? I am quite at a loss - unfortunately we are many times Pan when thinking back to the productions we have completed. Had I done that play? What was it like? Did I live in that time? I learned and took and enjoyed, but in order to live again outside the Lekolights I have somewhat forgotten. I find that I sometimes need a good half-year before I can take out a play and look at it again and think with criticism and with love, and not find myself reaching morbidly for the tissue-box. Oh! I want to put beauty on the stage! I want to create loveliness! I want to do a drama, I want to make people go "Ah! I had not known before. Ah! I want to LIVE!" Lord, keep me worthy. Amen.

    Mood: Rapturous
    Music: Was Billy Boyd's "Hit Me Baby One More Time" for something like 45 minutes (yay for auto-repeat!) is now Playlist "Mellow Me" - le sigh.
    Thought: Soooooooooooooo good to hear Fr. Mike Mac's sermon this morning on Mejugore (sp? IS there a d? Regardless it's from the Cyrillic so it's somewhat phonetic anyway). I only wish he'd gone on longer! How hateful is it that when I'm finally back on a diet all I can think about is food when conversely when I'm not dieting I think about lots and lots of other things (although most recently play play play. Gah)? Oy, the Murphy Lawyerism of the human brain! But I seem to be losing again, which is wonderful - alleluia! Now, let's hope I can KEEP this up! Amen!

  • Thursday, March 25, 2004

    Catterpillar Kisses

    Are simply the best. Jill does more theraputic good than a weekend of sleep (and potentially than a week in the Caribbean - depending on who was there, of course...), West Side and possibly Oz Friday and Saturday respectively, with Pirates debriefing Sunday, and grading done between-times for Tuesday's deadline and can there really be only 11 and 2/3 days of school in April...? Curious. Not so terrible with the Seniors - we've covered all the major bits - but the Sophomores will require a bit of cramming. Am attempting to wake up earlier in the morning and eat less throughout the day - Jn.Cg. has changed how they work, not entirely sure I'm all for it - back to drinking more water, alleluia. Am thinking of writing next year's HCH play - maybe something about gangsters, with absolutely NO wimpy male roles, as per request. No swords, alack, but plenty of guns possible. Dunno. Potential there, however. Delve back into that Jeckyll/Hyde/chess/Quiz Show/Fugitive thingummy? Poss. I know there are all these great plays out there, but some how I never believe it until I've SEEN (or heard), not necessarily READ it. Who's a kinetic learner? I am! I am! Off to sleep. White Zinfadel is good, and barely popped - proud that I managed to actually get the cork out without a) breaking said cork or b) having to resort to someone else's strength. Fwah. Were it chocolate, it should not have lasted this long - or if it had (miraculously), it would never be OPENED six days after its reception. Fortunately does not need to be chilled and so may be kept out of way of those who have their eye on it. Still so very sleepy. Have somewhat absolved myself by realizing (again) that I'm recouping from five straight months of 75-hr/week work, give or take (usually give). A week's exhaustion is therefore not unsurprising. Have apparently decided to boycott pronouns in favor of giving verbs predominance. Must be result of reading BJD:TEOR. What we do to while away the brainless hours!

    Mood: Goodnight, my love....
    Music: Frequently my various moody songs on mental rotation. Most currently, "One more day all on my own/One more day with him not caring/What a life I might have known/But he never saw me there."
    Thought: The role of Eponine has once again gained status in my eyes due to real life. How I do look forward to really tapping into each character of Les Mis!

    Wednesday, March 24, 2004

    Miserable Most

    Mellow toast
    Oven roast
    Goonies' ghost
    And every which way,
    But miserable most.

    So, it looks like I'm going to be directing Les Mis after all - hoopla! With the HDAA.... I'm praying it all goes through. Still in post-play pardum. And grades close Friday...where did the time go? Must still put away and organize costumes. Haven't settled into normal life again yet.

    Mood: Nobody knows the troubles I've seen....
    Music: That new Irish CD I got
    Thought: Je deteste les photos de moi. Leblaugh. Editing is theraputic. Machines must be gotten.

    Monday, March 22, 2004

    Tres heureux, tres fatigue

    I hate post-show syndrome. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet, to tell the truth, the let down for this show isn't as hard as the let down for the previous two - mostly because I had Pirates and Dream back to back - no time to breathe in-between! Some thoughts:

  • I'm so totally cheese-doodlin'! Well, not really...more pomfing.... Why do I keep creating such characters? Ah well, it's like swing dancing, I suppose. My lot in life, and for the betterment of others.

  • I need to work in London. They understand theatre there.

  • Biggest show for Dream on Sunday matinee - which is amazing since that's usually a dead audience. Wow! We broke $2K with that audience, praise God.

  • We have an acting troupe. Nyah.

  • I think I will be staying with HCH....

  • Tonight an interview...tomorrow an interview...how many more steps to Calvary?

  • So, maybe Les Mis....

  • Can we say I am so buying the materials I need to edit. Yeah.

  • It's interesting how theraputic it is to edit the plays together. It's like I get to live in that world one last time. It's a way to close the book. And yet how curious it is to be in a play, to live in that world, and then to watch the video like one peering through a window, and then to have the blind closed. Almost, I feel as though these are other worlds. I know others have speculated whether we would get to "meet" our characters in Heaven, and I know we can't for they are fabrications - but there is a deeper mystery here into the mind of God (which is reality and not the realistic fantasy that theatre creates).

  • Did I mention that I miss that world already?

  • Did I mention how proud I am of them? I'll mention it again.

  • Did I mention that I hate post-play syndrome? I did - and still do.

  • How much do you want to bet that I'll start writing The Snow Queen again tomorrow.

  • Lay odds to that, but your better odds are that I'll start editing tomorrow.

  • The Bergomask rocks! FWAH!

  • Trogdor the Burninator...meet Emily the Manifier! FWAHdiddyFWAH! (Yeah, baby, yeah? Honestly, who DID throw that cupcake...excellent.)

    Und now ve tanze! (Canst du cha-cha-cha tanzen?) Or go to chorus. And then home (alleluia!) and then to the interview and then home and then to sleep and then to teach tomorrow (did I actually make it through today?) and then tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and eventually Macbeth, but hopefully not before Hamlet. QED.

    Mood: I've got theatre, I've got music, I've got my God, who could ask for anything more?
    Music: Jumbled.
    Thought: *sniffle*

  • Thursday, March 11, 2004

    Happy joy

    Rehearsal odd tonight - several actors either couldn't make it or were late hence I ended up working on certain sections, tightening up, etc. We hopes, precious, they remembers (yes, yes, stay asleep and let frog go!). Full run tomorrow. Must redo/modify a few costumes - NB's esp. Ah well - not that difficult, thank God. This is my sort of costuming - lots of drapery. Set decoration Saturday. Sunday, sleep, peut-etre?

    I had a lovely debate going in my brain before what with all this nonsense about changing things from what they ARE to what they are NOT. The curious thing - or rather, the unsurprising thing - is that this isn't all stemming simply from jeuvenile sex drive, but rather from a deeper rooted cultural vanity. "Vanity, vanity - all is vanity." Oh, nevermind the empirical proof from another western country from whom we have received our lineage: we Americans are not like them! Oh, nevermind consequence, nevermind result - we are the proud Americans and what we declare shall be, even if it is not. "And nothing is but what is not" - ah we need to see Macbeth now and learn from his pride. No wonder that his wife, upon learning from the wyrd sisters that Macbeth will rule, cries sickening defiance to the Heavens, tearing her robe, "Unsex me now!" We are now contravening even the ocular proof for a legalized insanity. How stupid - that is, unable to learn - can we become? We spit on the democracy of the dead, our fathers, the entire history of man for better and for worse and declare that WE know more than all other men who have ever lived. Is this not pride? No. Rather it is willful stupidity.

    I haven't been apocolyptic for a while now, but I'm in some serious danger of falling back into looking out for horsemen over ever horizon. But, danger has been averted in the past - "Possibly she won't go down/possibly she'll stay afloat/possibly all this will come to an end/on a positive note." And thus sank the Titanic. Indicative of America? Possibly. We're burning our few lifeboats now.

    Mood: I need sleep!
    Music: The latest from The Snow Queen
    Lest one wonder why the title:

    h
    Aragorn
    Please rate my quiz I worked hard for it thanks


    Which Lord of the Rings person do you want? (many out comes for anyone plus pics to)
    brought to you by Quizilla

    Tuesday, March 09, 2004

    Who will buy my sweet red roses?

    Two blooms for a penny?
    Any milk today mistress?
    Who will buy my sweet red roses....
    Ripe, strawberries ripe!
    Any milk today mistress?
    Knives, knives to grind,
    Any knives to grind....
    Ripe, strawberries ripe!
    Who will buy, who will buy, who will buy...


    Alas, it's not "Who will buy this beautiful morning" but the remainder isn't so far off: "I'm so high, I swear I could fly/Me, oh my, I don't want to lose it/So what am I to do/To keep the sky so blue/There must be someone/Who will buy?" In a fairly chipper mood - whether that mood is warranted or not. Wonderful parental units who help one shuttle to and fro whilst the car is being repaired, Walmart's buck-a-yard fabric that's oh so silky and strangely patterned and the perfect shades of green and rust, free fish in me belly (well, ok, not free and not fish - but it's a great saying), and my car is on its way back and I'm moving onto the death penalty (away from porn - ack, another Emilyism with no context whatsoever! "Excuse me, do you need that wig?" "Why, what do you want it for? To wear it?" "No, it's for my head." Oy) and from thence to good stewardship of the earth and from thence to (hopefully) happy happy joy joyism and gonnamakeit gonnamakeit gonnamakeit. Hrumph.

    All meaning that I have passed out of the three-weeks-prior AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH to the two-weeks-prior I Am In A State of Zen. Which only leaves the week prior uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh with nervous shaking. And then do we rest? Ha. No, we has an interview the following night. THEN we rest. More. Than we have been. Except that we'll need to strike. And the attic will be a mess. And I won't want to move. Until it threatens to move on its own. At which point it will be laboriously struck and then Emily will fall down on the couch and watch stupid TV. Yeah.

    Curious, how clockwork the emotions run with the going of a show. And speaking of going, I must be. Flowers to be retrieved from the attic, material most likely as well, digital camera, hrm, what else.... Must do more tomorrow afternoon. Big day Saturday, most likely. Alles gut. And eventually I shall redeem this sorry journal from this oblique opression and write something of value and worth. Coherently.

    Mood: Look out! She's talking in monosyllables!
    Music: Jamais! *sob*
    What Made My Day: Terry Pratchett
    What Is Stressing My Day: Not enough day.

    Sunday, March 07, 2004

    And we mark our place with bookmarkers

    And measure what we've lost....
    And how the room is softly faded
    And I only kiss your shadow,
    I cannot feel your hand,
    You're a stranger now unto me
    Lost in the dangling conversation.
    And the superficial sighs,
    In the borders of our lives.


    I need that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart. I think I'll try to get to adoration this week - Lord knows I need it. Penance service tomorrow, meaning shortened classes, which is good since I'd rather have less than an hour to explain why porn is bad to my seniors. It's a disgusting thing to have to look up re: stats on abuse, etc. Ugh - I feel all dirty inside. I took a nap this afternoon, which was good but full of blechy dreams as is often the case with afternoon naps alas, and then went grocery shopping tonight with Peter, who is a Godsend. I meant to do many chores this weekend but read a book instead. It is good to have breaks. Saw Arsenic and Old Lace - the dinner afterwards was fun, anyway! I'm afraid I woke up on the stroke of eleven though and went all gung ho about vegetarianism, activism, the Da Vinci Code, religion and politics and freaked out those sitting with me. Fortunately, Julie said I didn't embarrass her. But it made me realize that although the vermiscious knid is still smugly vermiscious, K. may just be right and I miss the "All I Really Want"-ness of one of the middle verses. Intellectualism mixed with a good side of goofiness - that's what I need! And "here"-ness. Meh. Oh, Lord, snap me out of this funk! I feel the need to travel, except that one cannot escape oneself. We are becoming the worst parts of the Republic and raising our children by the state - gaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! This sense of impotence is overwhelming - and unreal, although the shadow shackles seem real enough to she who cannot seem to wake. Lord, halp! And we ramble on and on and on.... To sleep, perchance to dream - aye, there's the rub. So farewell friends, thus Thisbe ends - adieu, adieu, adieu (parting is such sweet sorrow? Remember me? Do-whop-a-doo?).

    Mood: Vermiscious knid-y myself
    Music: None at the nonce.
    Thought: Yes, certainly, a philospher king. Only, a TRUE philosopher, and not our current hedonistic sophists, please!
    Et voila!: C'est moi.
    cho
    You're chocolate. You're the old soul type, people
    feel that they have known you their entire
    life. Many often open up to you for they view
    you as thoughtful and trustworthy. Although
    people trust you, you have a hard time trusting
    them. You prefer to keep your feelings bottled
    up inside, or display them very quietly. It is
    alright to open up every once in a while.


    Which kind of candy are you?
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    Yaaaaaaaaaaay! Jack makes me happy.
    js
    Shiver me timbers you know loads about pirate
    vocabulary matey so Splice the Mainbrace and
    celebrate!yoho!


    pirate vocabulary
    brought to you by Quizilla

    Oh dear: Reminds me of the time we were going back to Gaming, Austria on the train and for some reason were discussing Hitler and Nazism in English and the poor Austrian lady next to us kept giving us startled looks and we realized the only words she would have understood were NOT ones anyone should like to hear!
    Grammar Fuhrer
    You are the grammar Fuhrer. All bow to your
    authority. You will crush all the inferior
    people under the soles of your jackboots, and
    any who question your motives will be
    eliminated. Your punishment is being the bane
    of every other person's existence, because
    you're constantly contradicting stupidity.
    Everyone will be gunning for you. Your dreams
    of a master race of spellers and grammarians
    frighten the masses. You must always watch your
    back. If only your power could be used for good
    instead of evil.


    What is your grammar aptitude?
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    What? No picture? Consider Lord Byron's face inserted here, along with that old PBS commercial.
    You belong to the Romantic time period. This is my
    favourite era! In most of the other eras
    people were trying to open the doors to science
    and spent all there time inside (which is just
    like me; hey, I'm inside typing this!). In
    this era, though, poets urged the people to
    take a walk outside and appreciate beauty. In
    Percy Shelley's 'Ozymandias', he showed that
    whatever humans build, Natura can take over
    again. You are like this; appreciate Nature
    and try to save it. Your family is very
    important to you and you make the most of your
    time on Earth; but you're not afraid to stop
    and smell the roses! You live by the saying
    'Today is a gift, that's why it's called the
    present!'


    Which Era do you belong to?
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    Saturday, March 06, 2004

    No, Nay, Never

    Interesting this: "You are Cleopatra of the Nile. The great biographer of the time, Plutarch, wrote of Cleopatra, 'Her actual beauty, it is said, was not in itself so remarkable that none could be compared with her, or that no one could see her without being struck by it, but the contact of her presence, if you lived with her, was irresistible . . . It was a pleasure merely to hear the sound of her voice, with which, like an instrument of many strings, she could pass from one language to another . . .' You have a spark in you that draws other people to you. Indeed, you are drawn to others because you are always curious. People can talk to you; and you have a passion in life to know, live, love, and learn.

    What famous female ruler are you? (written for the girls)
    brought to you by Quizilla"

  • Still feeling a little disappointed by events out of my control. Stupid, and need to get over it. (Stupid get over it? Get over stupidity? ;)

  • The day was glorious today. "Look! A patch of blue! Let us chase it!" Two walks - magnificent.

  • Joseph last night was fun. Mental note - do that play someday. It felt a lot shorter than I remembered, however. Odd....

  • I think I know what I'm going to do to make the set look more woodsy for MSND. Tres cool.

  • I still have very little time to breathe. Two more weeks! Two more weeks! And anyone who hears me considering doing a summer play ought to brain me.

  • Arsenic & Old Lace tonight. Not particularly looking forward to going out - super funny play, though. I'm just relishing having no obligations today. Please give me a weekend of rest! I need a month of Sundays, but it's been a month of Fridays. Ach weel.

  • Hopefully the Quartet will work out - got a paragraph and a sentence done, that's good.

  • And now off with Julesie!

    Mood: Good day, good day!
    Music: Ever After at the moment.
    Happiness is: Talking to Kristen, no matter how briefly.