Countdown to the Last Hurrah
OK. I'm staying home for at least most of school to day because I was really not feeling that great yesterday, and it was the opening night of the Middle School Play (s). But since I am so determined to act at some point or another, I performed three small sections and one whole play with a sore throat and a very runny nose. Hopefully the video documentation will not pick that up. That is why Jennifer Medicine Woman (the director) wanted me to be here getting rested so I can use my voice later on since it is the finale in this play and for myself as middle school plays altogether, which means we all get flowers. The assistant directors said they were going to harass some seventh graders for the money to buy it with. I must admit, it was umm...interesting....when Ethan ( Or was it Calder? No, It was Ethan. Right? ) did his own "pure imagination" (although more like "pure ADHD") dance at the end of the play. I dont think Jennifer was so amused though.
I can't give you the details yet, but I will let you kow the title of the new comic/film/something that Allie and I are writing:
The Combover Justice League. ©
Intrigue! Excitement! Sarcasm! I'll leave you all to wonder.
So, back to the play...Yesterday, when we were performing part of it for the Lower School, Jennifer asked us to censor some of the profane language exhibited in the scene. (Read: "idiots" replaces "scrotums"). Mishmish, who plays the character that says it (Natasha) obliges and we commence into Sparkleshark. When it comes to the point where she is supposed to say that, she stumbles through the edited line saying "Belt up you -ingl-ling-ideeeeiots." You can't really blame her, since she was told to change it only tne minutes before. But then, under her breath she mutters "Fuck", which then causes me to cringe at the sight of all the little kindergarteners giggling and squirming in the front row close enough to read her lips.
Yesterday, in English class, I couldn't speak, so Mr. Byrne was ecstatic that I was actually vowing to keep quiet for one period (although he knows he will eventually have to call on me since he knows I am automatically overanalytical and get to the point of a metaphor easily). This promise was kept by writing on a random piece of loose leaf that is now covered with "I'll have a piece of the dark chocolate" and "This is almost the exact same poem as yesterday!" That is, until a road rage started below. Usually, this type of argument would not be so noticeable with the parking space competition of the city, but it was happening in front of our Quaker school so it was all the more appealing. When everyone started to bet on which driver would win, Mr. Byrne said "Hey. Go sit back down. I'll let you know if one of them pulls out abaseball bat." I wondered what could have put him in such a good mood and then I remembered: He had just ran out of the room to go tell some 6th graders to shut up and that they were ugly. Of course!
Tonight, my friend Dara and a girl Cheelow (that is what I call her.) are coming to the play. Cheelow is one of my mom's art students, who ( to use a cliché) is not the sharpest tool in the shed. My mom tries to get me to the sympathize with her and says she can't help it, but come on. If you are a thirteen year old girl in NYC and you dont know what evolution, the elecoral college, or illiteracy (even though you have a class called literacy) means, you need to do some serious internet research. Plus, she always is wanting to please other people and be just like them. For example:
Her Mom: I want to see Spanglish.
Her: Me too!
Me and Dara: That movie doesn't look good. I dont want too see it.
Her: Ew, Mom! I dont want to see Spanglish!
The reason I brought this up is because she keeps getting really excited about tonight. Sure, its nice so thanks, but really....you don't need to sit in the front row:
Her: Julia ! I'm coming to your Play!!!
Me: Uh...great.
Her: I'm gonna get there really early so I can sit in the FRONT ROW.
Me: Uh...you can't sit in the front row.
Her: WHY NOT?!
Me: Because there will be parents there, and I think they should have priority.
Her (while trying to figure out what priority means): Fine. I'll sit in the the SECOND ROW!
Renata was telling me that Frankie, who is a senior at my school who I am friends with but I wasn't sure if she was just being nice until now, was writing about how great I was in her blog. I guess I'll have to see for myself...since when am I great? Hahah.
Wish me Luck!
I can't give you the details yet, but I will let you kow the title of the new comic/film/something that Allie and I are writing:
The Combover Justice League. ©
Intrigue! Excitement! Sarcasm! I'll leave you all to wonder.
So, back to the play...Yesterday, when we were performing part of it for the Lower School, Jennifer asked us to censor some of the profane language exhibited in the scene. (Read: "idiots" replaces "scrotums"). Mishmish, who plays the character that says it (Natasha) obliges and we commence into Sparkleshark. When it comes to the point where she is supposed to say that, she stumbles through the edited line saying "Belt up you -ingl-ling-ideeeeiots." You can't really blame her, since she was told to change it only tne minutes before. But then, under her breath she mutters "Fuck", which then causes me to cringe at the sight of all the little kindergarteners giggling and squirming in the front row close enough to read her lips.
Yesterday, in English class, I couldn't speak, so Mr. Byrne was ecstatic that I was actually vowing to keep quiet for one period (although he knows he will eventually have to call on me since he knows I am automatically overanalytical and get to the point of a metaphor easily). This promise was kept by writing on a random piece of loose leaf that is now covered with "I'll have a piece of the dark chocolate" and "This is almost the exact same poem as yesterday!" That is, until a road rage started below. Usually, this type of argument would not be so noticeable with the parking space competition of the city, but it was happening in front of our Quaker school so it was all the more appealing. When everyone started to bet on which driver would win, Mr. Byrne said "Hey. Go sit back down. I'll let you know if one of them pulls out abaseball bat." I wondered what could have put him in such a good mood and then I remembered: He had just ran out of the room to go tell some 6th graders to shut up and that they were ugly. Of course!
Tonight, my friend Dara and a girl Cheelow (that is what I call her.) are coming to the play. Cheelow is one of my mom's art students, who ( to use a cliché) is not the sharpest tool in the shed. My mom tries to get me to the sympathize with her and says she can't help it, but come on. If you are a thirteen year old girl in NYC and you dont know what evolution, the elecoral college, or illiteracy (even though you have a class called literacy) means, you need to do some serious internet research. Plus, she always is wanting to please other people and be just like them. For example:
Her Mom: I want to see Spanglish.
Her: Me too!
Me and Dara: That movie doesn't look good. I dont want too see it.
Her: Ew, Mom! I dont want to see Spanglish!
The reason I brought this up is because she keeps getting really excited about tonight. Sure, its nice so thanks, but really....you don't need to sit in the front row:
Her: Julia ! I'm coming to your Play!!!
Me: Uh...great.
Her: I'm gonna get there really early so I can sit in the FRONT ROW.
Me: Uh...you can't sit in the front row.
Her: WHY NOT?!
Me: Because there will be parents there, and I think they should have priority.
Her (while trying to figure out what priority means): Fine. I'll sit in the the SECOND ROW!
Renata was telling me that Frankie, who is a senior at my school who I am friends with but I wasn't sure if she was just being nice until now, was writing about how great I was in her blog. I guess I'll have to see for myself...since when am I great? Hahah.
Wish me Luck!
Email Me! posted by Julia at 11:13 AM
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