The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.
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Two more days of actual school
Two and a half days of review, and three days of exams left. Glory, hallelujah. (But who's counting?)
Actually, it's oddish because I don't feel as though it's the end of the year - I'm talking actual sense memory here: the weather's not even approaching Less Cold, it's been raining for nearly two weeks, and if anything it feels like the long, dreary march of March. Curious, that. But yesterday, just before we all went off to the State House (which was a very pleasant trip, indeed!), I rested my head against the screen of my window and breathed in the rainy cold air and was brought immediately to England, to the hostel just outside of London where we stayed before joining the remainder of the Theatre in England tour. Ah, now, wouldn't it be loverly if by sense memory alone we could be transported to wherever? One wonders if that's a taste of Heaven - all places, all times - the smell of a book brings one back to the reading of that book at eleven, bundled up in blankets while the rain drips off the leafing trees; the certain gust of wind whirls one to the streets of Krakow or the dappled sun whisks one to Ars. *sigh*
So, began a novena last night - sort of an impromptu cobbled-together thing - to the Holy Spirit for knock-me-over-the-head guidance re: The Academy. Jules and I went out driving - despite massive headaches - after Peter's final middle school concert *sniff* and Jules is thinking that Broadway would just be a waste of time and result in mere frustration and possibly creative annihilation, and that I ought to just start work on The Academy now. I'm positive - or as positive as one can get - that I am meant to begin this (a sort of Stratford/FUS combo) at some point...the quesiton is which. And perhaps the most frustrating thing is - as always - myself and m'waffles. I.e., at this moment I'm scoffing at my own nervous self, and am thinking: "Oh, paugh, Emily! Build it, dahlink," while I've spent the previous half of the day and much of last night rather post-Bearskin-y, interiorly huddled, cradling the Shadow in my arms. (Hmmm, room for an Anderson-like fairy tale there.) I decided to indulge the fancy this morning and wrote a list of what I would need in an ideal world for the three theatres, and then sketched out the central court with the theatres, the tea shop and restaurant, and the church (theatre, food, and God - yup, that seems about right %P) - but....
Hwell, we shall wait and see. For now, to no one's surprise whatsoever, Adobe Photoshop is being a scootch. Mom's not letting me off the hook to see Joseph Pearce tonight (she's probably right - I'm just panicking about everything I have to do: esp. with graduation tomorrow night - augh! - how these things do keep piling up!), but thankfully it's a longish weekend (even with interviews for directing with the Savoyards and Tuesday's "professional" day). Goal: to finish draft of KOF this weekend! HRUMPH!
..oh, Lord...what am I doing?...
Mood: Gingerbread man in milk
Music: Alanis Morrisette Jagged Little Pill
Thought: The music probably isn't helping any....
Two and a half days of review, and three days of exams left. Glory, hallelujah. (But who's counting?)
Actually, it's oddish because I don't feel as though it's the end of the year - I'm talking actual sense memory here: the weather's not even approaching Less Cold, it's been raining for nearly two weeks, and if anything it feels like the long, dreary march of March. Curious, that. But yesterday, just before we all went off to the State House (which was a very pleasant trip, indeed!), I rested my head against the screen of my window and breathed in the rainy cold air and was brought immediately to England, to the hostel just outside of London where we stayed before joining the remainder of the Theatre in England tour. Ah, now, wouldn't it be loverly if by sense memory alone we could be transported to wherever? One wonders if that's a taste of Heaven - all places, all times - the smell of a book brings one back to the reading of that book at eleven, bundled up in blankets while the rain drips off the leafing trees; the certain gust of wind whirls one to the streets of Krakow or the dappled sun whisks one to Ars. *sigh*
So, began a novena last night - sort of an impromptu cobbled-together thing - to the Holy Spirit for knock-me-over-the-head guidance re: The Academy. Jules and I went out driving - despite massive headaches - after Peter's final middle school concert *sniff* and Jules is thinking that Broadway would just be a waste of time and result in mere frustration and possibly creative annihilation, and that I ought to just start work on The Academy now. I'm positive - or as positive as one can get - that I am meant to begin this (a sort of Stratford/FUS combo) at some point...the quesiton is which. And perhaps the most frustrating thing is - as always - myself and m'waffles. I.e., at this moment I'm scoffing at my own nervous self, and am thinking: "Oh, paugh, Emily! Build it, dahlink," while I've spent the previous half of the day and much of last night rather post-Bearskin-y, interiorly huddled, cradling the Shadow in my arms. (Hmmm, room for an Anderson-like fairy tale there.) I decided to indulge the fancy this morning and wrote a list of what I would need in an ideal world for the three theatres, and then sketched out the central court with the theatres, the tea shop and restaurant, and the church (theatre, food, and God - yup, that seems about right %P) - but....
Hwell, we shall wait and see. For now, to no one's surprise whatsoever, Adobe Photoshop is being a scootch. Mom's not letting me off the hook to see Joseph Pearce tonight (she's probably right - I'm just panicking about everything I have to do: esp. with graduation tomorrow night - augh! - how these things do keep piling up!), but thankfully it's a longish weekend (even with interviews for directing with the Savoyards and Tuesday's "professional" day). Goal: to finish draft of KOF this weekend! HRUMPH!
..oh, Lord...what am I doing?...
Mood: Gingerbread man in milk
Music: Alanis Morrisette Jagged Little Pill
Thought: The music probably isn't helping any....
posted by Emily C. A. Snyder | 2:14 PM
1 Comments:
i'll presume your cryptic academny references are placing you in a very jo march state of mind. in which case, some thoughts. look up "unschooling" and start tracking down the folks who wrote all those wondrous ideas down. look up also 'charter' and 'museum' (look up the wake county NC school district--they have 4 now), and 'magnet' schools, especially ones with alternative learning facilities (there's one in the blue ridge that comes to mind, but it's name is elusive) and philosophies based on montisorri and her ilk. then look up grants. believe it or not, the government wants to fund parts of this (though not any religious parts, no matter what they say otherwise), corporations want to fund parts of this, and everyday folk want to fund parts of this. put simply: "jo march has a posse."
:)
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