Opening night went well.  Had a decently-sized audience, which is always good.  However, our curse is making an appearance.  The centre-stage light was seriously contemplating falling on our Macbeth, and the curtain kept trying to take a prat fall.  Good times.  Donalbain {character name -- I can't for the life of me remember his real moniker} and I were talking in the kitchen and getting really excited about all the impending doom.  "Dude!  It's really happening!!  It's all true!!!"  *Shock and awe*  {Then we decided that since we were the ones getting so excited about it, we'd be the ones to die from something falling on us, except it wouldn't be anything normal like a light pole or the ceiling, it would be a safe or an anvil or a grand piano during curtain call, and all you'd see would be our feet sticking out like a cartoon or the Wicked Witch of the East.}

Oh, and the new thing is to see who can take off most of my make-up during "Meet and Greet" after the play.  Charlie took his sleeve to my face, Crispy decided to lick part of the white base off {which is not as kinky as it sounds, just mildly slimy}, and Kerry still has a black lip print on his face, lol.  You all get lip prints if you come see the play.  Everybody!  I have a crapload of black lipstick on -- there'll be plenty.  Lol.

So I got an email from GWU.  About had a heart-attack when the message popped up.  Apparently my transcript is missing.  This will be remedied tomorrow, tout de suite.  And then they better send me a freakin' admissions letter.  Grrrrrrr, arg, arrr.  Avast.  Growl.  Mutter.

The GWU letter of either acceptance or denial comes soon.  They said "middle of March," and considering that this is quite literally the middle of March, I can only anticipate the mailman's arrival.

"I hate waiting."

Argargargargarg.  *Shreds furniture*

So I've suddenly become very interested in runes.  This is due largely to the fact that Odin/All-Father/What-Have-You is a major player in my latest read American Gods.  It's some pretty cool stuff.  You get to say/write "wyrd."  Which is always fun.  {It's a much cooler predecessor of "weird."}  Wyrd-wyrd-wyrd.

Random Quotage:
Marriage is finding that one special person that you want to annoy for the rest of your life.

A tes souhaits et tes amours.

Thanks to Cameron for a) yanking me out of my mood, and b) general conversation.  You are quite good for conversing with.  {{It's because you're tall.}}

Unrelated: "Nothing" usually means "something."
Figure it out.

So Mum's surgery went well enough.  She's doped up on coedine {I'm not really sure, actually -- regardless, she's doped up} and reclining in splendour upon the couch.  Caroline and Tori are camping out with her downstairs tonight.  She can wiggle her toes and cough and do all sorts of fun stuff without sciatic mayhem.  As Martha says, "It's a good thing."  {And she's letting us stay home for a while tomorrow.  Granted, it's for medical reasons, but still!  Yes, I'm a selfish opportunist.  Don't remind me.}

I went to Starbucks twice in twelve hours.  Under twelve hours, even.  How sad is that?

Um, yeah.  So Macbeth opens tomorrow.  And runs through Saturday night, with a Sunday matinee.  Same schedule for next week, too.  Evening shows are at 7:30, Sunday is at 2:00.  Seniors can try to wrangle extra credit with theatre or English teachers (or both).  No idea how much it costs -- I've never paid for a play at the Centre for the Arts yet.  And yeah.  Because people have gotten onto me for not saying anything about it, lol.  Macbeth has a really awesome death scene.  You should come just to see that.  It's gruesomely fantastic.

I'm tired.  Physically, mentally tired.  I'd say spiritually too, but I'm not really a religious person to begin with, so it doesn't count.  {Lots of reasons that I prefer not to discuss in a public forum.}

A tes souhaits et tes amours.

This is some crazy stuff going down....

Oh my God.  That is messed.  Up.  UNREAL.  Go read the article.  No, seriously.  Go read the article.  And I thought this stuff only happened on The X-Files!

"Who is't that to woman's beauty would submit
And yet refuse the fetters of their wit?"  ~  Aphra Behn.  I have no idea who he is, but it rhymes and sounds cool, and looks Shakesperian-sonnet-ish.

I'd say discuss, but people are reportedly afraid to enter into said discussions when I'm involved (last semester's government class, for example).  I don't know why.  It's not like I'm opinionated, or anything *sarcasm*.  I just want to know various thoughts on/reactions to that quote.

That makes this more of a personal update than anything, so I don't feel negligent.

{{Macbeth had an all-day rehearsal today.  Oy gevalt, the pain.  Figuratively.  You try spending at least five hours in the Centre for the Arts.  Without any new reading material.  At least we got to try our make-up.  I scared people.  They'd walk around the corner and flinch.  Mwahahahaha.  Good times.}}

Hahaha, how's this for awesome?  Okay, backstory before I ask people to weigh in on the State Of Awesome.  We're creating a sort of stock portfolio/file/whatchamacallit in economics class.  We have to find three different companies and "invest" in them.  While our team deliberated over this, Buddy bursts forth with: "Sins!  You know, alcohol, cigarettes, all sorts of stuff like that.  They'll never go down!"

So we are now named Team Vice.  We have stock in Phillip Morris, Anheuser-Busch, and Exxon Mobil.  Cigarettes, beer, and oil, respectively.  And Mrs. Watson was helping us look stuff up on them, too.  Muahaha.

Okay, so I just like calling us "Team Vice."  It's fun!
And our stock went up in under two minutes.  Score!

This calls for a viewing of Trading Places.

Mum sent this, and I suddenly felt compelled to post it up here:
"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will.  You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time.  You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken.  You'll fight with your best friend.  You'll blame a new love for things an old one did.  You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love.  So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back."

In other news....

Actually, there is no other news.  Yesterday's post kind of sums everything up.  Watched the Oscars.  Was dreadfully bored.  The only thing that was even remotely worth turning the mute button off for was, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have some very bad news.  Bjork will not be in attendance tonight.  She was trying on her Oscar dress and Dick Cheney shot her."
Who is Jon Stewart, anyway???

Oh yes!  Other news.  Well, only the girls will really appreciate this.  I am now the proud owner of 3.5"-4" heeled gold sandals.  Strappy.  Fun.  And metallic.  Oh yes.

Anyway....

I painted my toenails red.  Now it looks like my feet are hemmorhaging.  (Colouring inside the lines is for conformists!)

Wow.  Yesterday was so busy.  But so fun.  I swear, I haven't had a weekend in probably a month, but that's okay.  Being busy takes my mind off those things I prefer not to dwell on.

Up and out of the house by 8:30 on a Saturday.  Should high school students even be coming out of a REM cycle by 8:30?  I think not.  Rehearse Macbeth for two hours.  Rehearse-rehearse-rehearse-getdaggerpointedataveryvitalarteryduringonescene-rehearse-rehearse-rehearse.  Leave promptly thereafter for combat training.  Drill target zones, cuts, and slices.  Almost fall over during a circling exercise (I am grace).  Then we performed a most pernicious exercise that pretty much involved us lunging, sword straight out, empty hand stretched behind us, and standing there for almost two minutes.  Then simply thrusting, sword straight out, empty hand stretched out behind us, for almost two minutes.  Oh Christ.  My right bicep and forearm (which I guess technically speaking is the entire arm) are still screaming in their death throes.  It's a wonder I haven't died from rhobdomylasia, if I have the term correct, which is when muscle tissue is heinously overworked and sheds into the bloodstream, and you die.  (I have now made everyone who reads this absolutely paranoid about exercise.  YES!)

Go home for two hours.  Yayyyyyy, respite!

Aaaaand-then-go-dancing-until-11:00.  Best part of the entire friggin' day.  I have some serious black marks where my shoes were.  Learned two different ways of getting into the Cable Car/Candlestick, both of which in my opinion leave much more room for error/dropping/too much work on the guy's part.  Was mistaken for a rower by a Vandy student (apparently I have distinctive calluses -- who knew?)  (We blamed the sword.)  And I actually remembered names this time.  Nono, this is an amazing occurrence.  I am so not a names person it's unreal.  In plays, I'll call people by their character name until somewhere close to opening night.

Speaking of opening night.... Macbeth opens the 15th.  Diabolically enough, my mom has back surgery that day.  ARG.  I blame neither, this is just a very inconvenient congruity.  Tech week will begin shortly, and everyone is going to hate the play and each other until curtain call on that first night.  Somehow, that's always how pre-play emotions pan out.

Wow.  We are brilliance.  By all rights, we should be working on yet another cursed A.P. English prompt.  But we talked the substitute out of it.  You may bask in our persuasive glory.

So instead I get on PhuseBox, the only blogging site not blocked by our server (but not for lack of trying; haha, laaame).

"Lame" is my new word.  Lame-lame-lame.
Lame-lame.  Lame.  .....Lame.

Macbeth is looming on the horizon.  Last night we ran the "double, double, toil and trouble" scene into the grooouuund.  Seriously.  But it was so -- much -- fun.  For the first time since probably The Crucible, I took a risk and let loose.  It was glorious.  I felt like myself again.

I feel old.  But I'm forbidden to tell you why.

This month, GWU either breaks my heart or makes my life.
But no pressure.  Right?
Right.
So why am I unconvinced??

It's official.  I have now descended into a legally ascertained life of sin and vice.

Yes, I am now a ringleader of the crime underworld.

My list of devious deeds, you may ask?

A traffic ticket.  Rolling through a stop-sign.  And a warning for not having proof of insurance (never doubt the potency of a plaintive look; copious amounts of mascara help).  The police were camped out on the main drag of a neighbourhood shortcut to Riverdale (well known to criminals, of course).  I got in the line to merge onto Warrior Drive.  Then I see the three police motorcycles camped in a private drive (which I question the legality of, though I'm hardly one to talk).  They look at me, wave me over and point to a spot where I can park.  I'm so oblivious that I rolled that I actually turn to Caroline and say, since they have a small clipboard, "Maybe it's a survey?"

(I roll down window.)  "Hello there!"
"It was very rude of you to run that stop-sign."
(Internal monologue: What????)  "......Oh?"  (Erudite, I was not.  Here I am desperately trying to remember what sort of phrases the Traffic Ticket Evasion article on www.soyouwanna.com recommends, and thanking every deity known to man that I took the SWORD out of my back seat before leaving home this morning.  That, wrapped in a blanket, defies every law of concealed weaponry.)
"May I see your license and insurance papers?"
"Yeah, sure, certainly.  Caroline, get those out of the glove compartment, will you?"  (After a desperate search through the envelope labelled "Important Papers," I have yet to locate said insurance, and hand it to the cop so he can do the looking.  Decide not to mention the fact that, when hiding behind a bush, he looks just like an old black woman.  No, seriously, he does.)  (Insert searing stares of Han Solo "Laugh-It-Up-Fuzzball" proportions at fellow classmates who point and laugh and wave as they zip merrily by.  Try to hide amusement as cop returns from inscribing my plate number.)  "So, out of curiousity, what's the fine going to be?"
"About $100."
(Internal monologue: Sh*t.  Now I can't use real silk for my faire costume.)  "Excuse me?"
"Yep.  And you don't have your insurance in here, either.  That'll be another ticket."
(Aforementioned plaintive expression.  The key, ladies, is to widen your eyes innocently and gasp a little.)  "....But, since this is your first time in three years, I'll make it a warning."
"Wow, awesome, thanks!"
"So how old are you?"
(Internal monologue: Dammit.)  "Eighteen."  (Continuation of said monologue, with a slightly sarcastic bent: It's not like that's on the license, or anything.)
(Cop seems to sense internal monologue, and returns vital documents.)  "Your court date is April 6, at 8:15."
"Ooookayyyyyy.  And will they tell me to whom I send this fine?"
"It's on the ticket.  Move along, now."
(I move along.  Woman tries to let me onto Warrior before I can fully stop.  Send amazed stare, check rearview mirror, and accelerate to freedom.)

And thus the saga ends.  But not without 1st period French III/IV class deciding to attend court wearing "Free Kelly" shirts.  And me poring over my MTSU Criminal Justice textbook all day long and writing monologues to deliver regarding obscure legal Latin terms and researching issues of legality regarding the police location on private property (can anyone help me with that?) and such ilk.  Oh, this one incident touched off a whole day of revelry and hilarity.  (And getting taken out to dinner.  Woohoo!  But not because of the ticket.  But I'll let you think that, because it's funnier, mwahaha.)

So there are only two of these.  Sue moi.

~ Don’t settle for the one you can live with – wait for the one you can’t live without.

~ Sometimes I wonder if men and women really suit each other.  Perhaps they should live next door and just visit now and then. – Katharine Hepburn (amen, sweetheart, amen)

And of course, the most profound quote of all time....

Gleeful Mardi Gras!!!

Haha, so Caroline and I used relationship euphamisms (God, that looks like it's spelled atrociously) to denigrate the car driving in front of us on the way to school this morning.

"Apparently I'm moving too fast for him, and he just wants to take things slowly.  When life throws a curve at him -- *approaches curve* -- he panics.  *Looks at illegible vanity plate*  And he's a horrible communicator, *Lack of turn signal* who won't tell me what he wants."

Good times.

Every day for the past two weeks I've set my alarm for 5:30-5:45 with every intention of trying to build up stamina and go for a run, etc.  I have yet to actually get out of bed and do anything beyond turning said alarm off.  My willpower is something to marvel at.  Lol.

Ouch.  The paaaaaaaain.

Fight practise today.
Ouch-ouch-ouch.

We didn't even have weapons.  We just did footwork.
It hurts a lot to recover from a lunge.
My poor weakling leg muscles....

Random quote time!
One cannot step twice into the same river, for the water into which you first stepped has flown on.

Quote of the Day:

Katie: "Zip the hoodie up, then you're emo!"
Caroline Ford: "Do we have any eyeshadow for him?"
Unsuspecting Jesse: "Hey Daniel --"
Daniel: (Whirls around) "LIFE IS PAIN!"

Yep, that's about the productivity level in A.P. European History.
So fun.

Oh!  My God!  We had a French exchange student from Normandy come and speak with our class!  His name's Jeremy, and he's a management major spending this year at MTSU.  It was fantastic, and very interesting.  I learned a lot (moreso after sneaking into second period, where they're not afraid to ask certain things).  There were so many funny moments.  He's a really sweet kid.  I'm never washing my right hand again.  *Smirk*

"Girls do not dance all hip-hop in clubs.  We prefer.... We prefer to see their eyes."

There's nothing that improves one's mood quite like being tackled in the parking lot between classes by a pair of 6' 3" behemoths.

And it's only lunch.  The day is young!

"Then when we find you we'll throw a wild party and pump you full of vodka.  Because alcohol always warms you up, that and fire."
"I'll take the alcohol."

-- Brian and I, discussing what would happen if he got diverted to Siberia as a package.

So Mum thinks I'm anorexic now.
*Chuckle-cackle hybrid vocalization of amusement*
We discussed this while I ate ice cream.
....Yeah.

I'm no longer in the Tasmanian-devil rage from last night.  The sentiment remains roughly the same, but the energy behind it is spent.  Ahhhh, venting.  There's nothing like it.

It's time for some personal renovation.  But how?
I know!  I'll become anorexic.
Nope, not really.
Although I could use some reupholstering, metaphorically speaking.  New countertops, a coat of paint.  Hey, we'll even mop!  This is more a mental and spatial overhaul than anything.

Mmmm, sandwich.  Grilled cheese!  Yes.  I'm the worst anorexic ever.

Go here if you care to know my current sentiments.

I'll warn you in advance that it's not pretty.

So MTSU just gave me a scholarship-thing.

They're entirely too optimistic about my desire to go there.
(Although if GWU does not accept me, I won't have much of a choice, now, will I?)

Not that I'm ungrateful, mind you.
But I feel like they're trying to cement my fate as an MTSU graduate who will go on to pursue a nice, generic career and live and work in Tennessee until I die.  And that's something I am incapable of doing, even as I feel said cement harden.