(no subject)
I love writing. I love taking all the stuff we've read and synthesizing it into a new argument. I love being able to share the thoughts that I have with people. I love thoughts in general.
And the subject matter is inescapable, too; what I'm writing about has a direct impact on my life. I actually feel like I am getting a lot out of this writing.
Anyway, here I am in Suzzallo, getting an hour of writing in before going off to practice for Figgy Pudding. And of course, later tonight I'll be here again. I really yet haven't had a nice, long sit in Suzzallo just to work. Which I really want, because I hate having my flow of ideas interrupted. Constantly having to review what I wrote the day before gets old quickly.
In other news, the scene went well today in the directing class. It was sort of awkward because our last-minute replacement Wife still had her script in hand (understandable since yesterday was the first time she'd ever looked at it). But the audience seemed to find it at least a little funny, and the ending mini-monologue that always felt so awkward actually felt all right today. It wasn't until yesterday during rehearsal that I even was able to assign an action to what I was saying. It was so incredibly frustrating and I felt like my castmates were snickering at my unorganized delivery. Ugh. I hate not having an objective. And it was a good chunk of text that I delivered with absolutely no idea what the hell I was trying to do. Painful. Painful painful painful to do. It was giving me hella grief, even after the last rehearsal, because I still had a couple lines within it that I was confused about. Then, as I was brushing my teeth, I had an epiphany where I completely realized what the HELL this character was trying to do. It was partly just a matter of realizing who he was addressing in the last scene, and I was so excited that I stopped brushing my teeth in mid-stroke. It was a good discovery.
This quarter is coming to a good close, though. My last psych test was today (I got an 88 on it, which isn't as good as I hoped I'd do, considering how much time I spent rewriting my notes). If I guessed correctly how many response papers I didn't turn in, I should get out of that class well enough. So...good.
I'm also feeling way more psyched about the Psychology major (pun sooo intended) than I was earlier in the year--I think I actually will complete the major. And the drama major. I think I made the right choice. I really want to work with kids, though, too. At some point. We'll see what we can do about that.
All right, I have work to do. In the immortal words of Lauren Shaw: "Aiiight, latah!"
And the subject matter is inescapable, too; what I'm writing about has a direct impact on my life. I actually feel like I am getting a lot out of this writing.
Anyway, here I am in Suzzallo, getting an hour of writing in before going off to practice for Figgy Pudding. And of course, later tonight I'll be here again. I really yet haven't had a nice, long sit in Suzzallo just to work. Which I really want, because I hate having my flow of ideas interrupted. Constantly having to review what I wrote the day before gets old quickly.
In other news, the scene went well today in the directing class. It was sort of awkward because our last-minute replacement Wife still had her script in hand (understandable since yesterday was the first time she'd ever looked at it). But the audience seemed to find it at least a little funny, and the ending mini-monologue that always felt so awkward actually felt all right today. It wasn't until yesterday during rehearsal that I even was able to assign an action to what I was saying. It was so incredibly frustrating and I felt like my castmates were snickering at my unorganized delivery. Ugh. I hate not having an objective. And it was a good chunk of text that I delivered with absolutely no idea what the hell I was trying to do. Painful. Painful painful painful to do. It was giving me hella grief, even after the last rehearsal, because I still had a couple lines within it that I was confused about. Then, as I was brushing my teeth, I had an epiphany where I completely realized what the HELL this character was trying to do. It was partly just a matter of realizing who he was addressing in the last scene, and I was so excited that I stopped brushing my teeth in mid-stroke. It was a good discovery.
This quarter is coming to a good close, though. My last psych test was today (I got an 88 on it, which isn't as good as I hoped I'd do, considering how much time I spent rewriting my notes). If I guessed correctly how many response papers I didn't turn in, I should get out of that class well enough. So...good.
I'm also feeling way more psyched about the Psychology major (pun sooo intended) than I was earlier in the year--I think I actually will complete the major. And the drama major. I think I made the right choice. I really want to work with kids, though, too. At some point. We'll see what we can do about that.
All right, I have work to do. In the immortal words of Lauren Shaw: "Aiiight, latah!"