outrageous
This is me not addressing the two immediate issues:
1. Sordelet Homework &
2. Lunch for Tomorrow
But sometimes, shirking the pressing matters in favor of a half-naked veg-out on your bed, with a little NIN vs. Nintendo is the only way to get your head together.
Especially because today blew my brain to bits, just excellently. It began with some sobbing, done by our entire singing class, as we sat encircled around the singer and their 'partner.' Picture this...
You are a young, twentysomething. You've gotten up at god knows what hour to put your bag and your face together, and you've gotten your bum to singing class. Suddenly, you're knee to knee with everyone, and every song sung, from "Send in the Clowns" to "I Really Like Him" is ten times more poignant than it was ever intended to be. A bit before your song ("Feeling Good") and through "You Must Love Me," everyone's losin' it. A roll of paper towels is brought into the auditorium to sop up the snot and tears.
We were deeply in need of this. I suppose the reason I've been neglectful of the blog was schedule, but inspiration as well...because the start of the second year was tumultuous in a bad way. No one was connecting. There was a skewed feeling to it all, and fighting from the getgo. I came home each night exhausted and just...yucky. Tonight, it's late, and I'm fuckin tired, and I wanna eat a ton of ice cream, but...I still feel fantastic. And in touch with my classmates. Finally!
Continuing.
After the tears, there was acting class, which is always marvelous, and I got up there and rocked it out with the redhead. Our teacher, Mr. Pintaaa, cuts us off fairly quickly, so I wasn't expecting to go for terribly long, but it went long enough for me to feel reasonably accomplished...so I could listen to the critique without doing that stupid sour lemon, I-hate-myself shit.
Then there was the Outrageous exercise.
And then "The Treatment," with a Dylan McDermott talk-back.
Between all of my classmates (and ah...me too) in the most redonkulous outfits, belting out our serious songs in baby voices, Brooklyn accents and surfer dude drawls, while trying to open pickle jars, perform stripteases, wash our dogs...!! The fucking Neighborhood Playhouse. My heart doth explode....well, between that, and getting to ask the last question of Mr. Dylan "I Still Rock at Acting 20 Years After Graduating" McDermott, I'm not in the mood for homework.
I'm in the mood for a dance party.
1. Sordelet Homework &
2. Lunch for Tomorrow
But sometimes, shirking the pressing matters in favor of a half-naked veg-out on your bed, with a little NIN vs. Nintendo is the only way to get your head together.
Especially because today blew my brain to bits, just excellently. It began with some sobbing, done by our entire singing class, as we sat encircled around the singer and their 'partner.' Picture this...
You are a young, twentysomething. You've gotten up at god knows what hour to put your bag and your face together, and you've gotten your bum to singing class. Suddenly, you're knee to knee with everyone, and every song sung, from "Send in the Clowns" to "I Really Like Him" is ten times more poignant than it was ever intended to be. A bit before your song ("Feeling Good") and through "You Must Love Me," everyone's losin' it. A roll of paper towels is brought into the auditorium to sop up the snot and tears.
We were deeply in need of this. I suppose the reason I've been neglectful of the blog was schedule, but inspiration as well...because the start of the second year was tumultuous in a bad way. No one was connecting. There was a skewed feeling to it all, and fighting from the getgo. I came home each night exhausted and just...yucky. Tonight, it's late, and I'm fuckin tired, and I wanna eat a ton of ice cream, but...I still feel fantastic. And in touch with my classmates. Finally!
Continuing.
After the tears, there was acting class, which is always marvelous, and I got up there and rocked it out with the redhead. Our teacher, Mr. Pintaaa, cuts us off fairly quickly, so I wasn't expecting to go for terribly long, but it went long enough for me to feel reasonably accomplished...so I could listen to the critique without doing that stupid sour lemon, I-hate-myself shit.
Then there was the Outrageous exercise.
And then "The Treatment," with a Dylan McDermott talk-back.
Between all of my classmates (and ah...me too) in the most redonkulous outfits, belting out our serious songs in baby voices, Brooklyn accents and surfer dude drawls, while trying to open pickle jars, perform stripteases, wash our dogs...!! The fucking Neighborhood Playhouse. My heart doth explode....well, between that, and getting to ask the last question of Mr. Dylan "I Still Rock at Acting 20 Years After Graduating" McDermott, I'm not in the mood for homework.
I'm in the mood for a dance party.
posted by Maggie Moon at
7:40 PM
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