I keep forgetting to post.
But the thing is, if I'm happy, I'm busy, and if I'm depressed, I don't like telling people about it.
Professor Reardon is, without a doubt, my favorite teacher. Ever. Her range of knowledge about music is uncanny, unreal and utterly astounding. I swear, I can feel my brain stretching to accommodate her knowledge with every class. I won't say that I'll be an amazing singer by the end of this semester. But I'll me much, much better than I was.
Music theory is difficult, in its own way, and I'm enjoying that class, as well. Byron's in it. And Frankie's in my Acting I class. It's squeeful.
I'm still dreaming of some of the things we did in Japan. The hot springs, walking around Tokyo, some of the outlying places we went to see. I don't know where we're going next summer, not yet, although it'll be for longer, I think. Spring Break will be Paris, though, and I've been doing my best to keep up and expand my terrible French by practicing at home, with Ian and with Therese. I can't wait to see the Eiffel Tower, to walk along the Seine, (I remember a feeling coming over me! The soldier turned, looked away. That needs to be a musical.) see the Louvre, the Left Bank, Moulin Rouge, eat at Taillevant to piss off Beth, that kind of thing. I want to visit the Rue de Loo as a pilgrimage to Julia Child, (also for Beth) and pick up and ship her a few copper pieces from Dehillerin. (Therese, too.) There will be the odd weekend in Jamaica, too. I don't know why that house felt so familiar to both of us, but it does, and sometimes, I dream of it, too, and the sunrise over the water, or the sunset.
Jay and Earl have joined the Monkeys, making up for some of the people who've left. I'd like to do a lot less in the way of rehearsed anything, I think, and a lot more in the way of random fun, just because that was what I wanted the Monkeys to be: random fun in public. Not that Wicked wasn't great, and Xanadu. But the random aspect is more challenging: can we make something good, while creating a memory that will last?
That's something else I've been thinking about: memory. For now, most of what I do is a moment, (This is just a moment in the woods,) and ephemeral. There are things I'll remember until I'm senile, and there are other things I'll want to remember, but that will get lost under the weight of more and more memory. It's why I want to be in film: I like having a record of what I'm doing, so that the moments I help create don't end, just because the creation of them has passed. I love going to plays, it's special. But it should be special, and amazing. But movies are more homelike, in a lot of ways. They're more accessible, and if most of the memories aren't as special as live theater, they're more easily accessed, too. The Princess Bride will bring me a host of good memories, every time I watch it, and other movies will bring up different, equally good memories. (The way my family and I made a ton of 'corpsicle' jokes during Titanic, for instance, (My corpse will go on) or the way my parents still make fun of that single hand on a steamed up window.)
Ok, have to do homework, enough waxing philosophical about the functions of memory.
Professor Reardon is, without a doubt, my favorite teacher. Ever. Her range of knowledge about music is uncanny, unreal and utterly astounding. I swear, I can feel my brain stretching to accommodate her knowledge with every class. I won't say that I'll be an amazing singer by the end of this semester. But I'll me much, much better than I was.
Music theory is difficult, in its own way, and I'm enjoying that class, as well. Byron's in it. And Frankie's in my Acting I class. It's squeeful.
I'm still dreaming of some of the things we did in Japan. The hot springs, walking around Tokyo, some of the outlying places we went to see. I don't know where we're going next summer, not yet, although it'll be for longer, I think. Spring Break will be Paris, though, and I've been doing my best to keep up and expand my terrible French by practicing at home, with Ian and with Therese. I can't wait to see the Eiffel Tower, to walk along the Seine, (I remember a feeling coming over me! The soldier turned, looked away. That needs to be a musical.) see the Louvre, the Left Bank, Moulin Rouge, eat at Taillevant to piss off Beth, that kind of thing. I want to visit the Rue de Loo as a pilgrimage to Julia Child, (also for Beth) and pick up and ship her a few copper pieces from Dehillerin. (Therese, too.) There will be the odd weekend in Jamaica, too. I don't know why that house felt so familiar to both of us, but it does, and sometimes, I dream of it, too, and the sunrise over the water, or the sunset.
Jay and Earl have joined the Monkeys, making up for some of the people who've left. I'd like to do a lot less in the way of rehearsed anything, I think, and a lot more in the way of random fun, just because that was what I wanted the Monkeys to be: random fun in public. Not that Wicked wasn't great, and Xanadu. But the random aspect is more challenging: can we make something good, while creating a memory that will last?
That's something else I've been thinking about: memory. For now, most of what I do is a moment, (This is just a moment in the woods,) and ephemeral. There are things I'll remember until I'm senile, and there are other things I'll want to remember, but that will get lost under the weight of more and more memory. It's why I want to be in film: I like having a record of what I'm doing, so that the moments I help create don't end, just because the creation of them has passed. I love going to plays, it's special. But it should be special, and amazing. But movies are more homelike, in a lot of ways. They're more accessible, and if most of the memories aren't as special as live theater, they're more easily accessed, too. The Princess Bride will bring me a host of good memories, every time I watch it, and other movies will bring up different, equally good memories. (The way my family and I made a ton of 'corpsicle' jokes during Titanic, for instance, (My corpse will go on) or the way my parents still make fun of that single hand on a steamed up window.)
Ok, have to do homework, enough waxing philosophical about the functions of memory.