Oh good god.
Acting French is the weirdest class EVER.
So my first class started off harmless enough, providing the prof with basic info, major, etc. Then I soon found myself back in the first grade, sitting in a circle on the floor with my 15 other classmates. Only instead of braiding each other’s hair and reading Curious George, we were doing breathing exercises whilst staring at our motionless arms suspended in mid air. After 20 minutes of this, I had no more control over my diaphragm than before and a whole lot less oxygen in my brain.
Then we we were back on our feet, making up interpretive dance type movements to the word “parapluie” (french for umbrella). Tres bizarre. So everyone was practicing their movements, eyes closed, dancing about the room, knocking into each other. And then there was me trying to pretend I was into it. But I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of my situation. And then it got worse.
We sat back down in our circle, and we each had to perform our movements for this word in front of everyone. I wanted to cry. I really didn’t have any "movements" because I had been giggling and wondering just what the hell I was doing during most of the practice time. So for my turn I just stood up, flung my body around a bit and sat back down, masked in utter embarrassment.
As each person went, my teacher commented on the ones that she really liked (mine not included), acting as if that person’s arm flailing and body seizures somehow better channeled the word “parapluie”. Now I could've probably really let myself go if I were in the company of people I was comfortable with. But it was the first damn day of class. And it was nothing like I had expected.
But it WAS mad funny.
So basically I'm taking an acting class that just happens to be all in French.
We'll see how it all pans out.
By the way, this class has officially solidified my newfound obsession with Asian boys. I'm not quite sure yet if my latest intrigue also shares my obsession . . . but you bet your ass I'm going to find out. His name is Mike. Wahoo.
So my first class started off harmless enough, providing the prof with basic info, major, etc. Then I soon found myself back in the first grade, sitting in a circle on the floor with my 15 other classmates. Only instead of braiding each other’s hair and reading Curious George, we were doing breathing exercises whilst staring at our motionless arms suspended in mid air. After 20 minutes of this, I had no more control over my diaphragm than before and a whole lot less oxygen in my brain.
Then we we were back on our feet, making up interpretive dance type movements to the word “parapluie” (french for umbrella). Tres bizarre. So everyone was practicing their movements, eyes closed, dancing about the room, knocking into each other. And then there was me trying to pretend I was into it. But I couldn’t stop laughing at the ridiculousness of my situation. And then it got worse.
We sat back down in our circle, and we each had to perform our movements for this word in front of everyone. I wanted to cry. I really didn’t have any "movements" because I had been giggling and wondering just what the hell I was doing during most of the practice time. So for my turn I just stood up, flung my body around a bit and sat back down, masked in utter embarrassment.
As each person went, my teacher commented on the ones that she really liked (mine not included), acting as if that person’s arm flailing and body seizures somehow better channeled the word “parapluie”. Now I could've probably really let myself go if I were in the company of people I was comfortable with. But it was the first damn day of class. And it was nothing like I had expected.
But it WAS mad funny.
So basically I'm taking an acting class that just happens to be all in French.
We'll see how it all pans out.
By the way, this class has officially solidified my newfound obsession with Asian boys. I'm not quite sure yet if my latest intrigue also shares my obsession . . . but you bet your ass I'm going to find out. His name is Mike. Wahoo.