Shaw, anyone?
Yesterday, instead of studying for finals like a good student, I trotted off to see a production of The Devil's Disciple by George Bernard Shaw. It was sort of awesome. And by 'sort of awesome' I mean 'excellent enough that I found myself purchasing five or so of his plays at the used bookstore next door in the subsequent hours'. =D It's not the first of his that I've watched, but it's the first that I paid enough attention to for it to make a marked impression on me.
Because. Well. AWESOME. I don't know about the director or whatever - the set was good, insofar as it wasn't distracting or covered with weirdly flashing lights (this becomes more and more of a problem every time I go to see a new Shakespeare play, ahaha) - and the acting was fine and dandy, with two notable exceptions (General Burgoyne and Richard Dudgeon were both wonderful); but the play - in and of itself - was great, hilarious and kind of sweet. My only slight objection was a total of three lines in the ending, because frankly, Dudgeon deserved better than priesthood. What happened to reviling Puritan cruelty and endorsement of Lucifer's charms, eh? Eh? *mutters* Still, not enough to deter me from my adoration.
And then I went home and read the script, because it was that much fun. Yesss. I'm not really a theatrical person, these days, and I never watched anything but what my parents hauled me off to see, but seriously, that was great and I'm really glad I saw the play before I went to read the script, even though the script is lovely too. So uh. Yeah. Stamp of approval, I is having it right here.
IN OTHER NEWS:
Today, on the other hand, was ridiculous - in a different way - because today I got PSAT scores back.
Nngh, you guys. Nngh.
I spent the entire day unsure as to whether to be extremely pleased or mildly depressed. I hate subject bias. I did very respectably in both reading and writing - 800 and 760 respectively - but only passingly in math with a 680. Plus, one of my answers was off by one. One! I ask you! *abuses past self*
We'll see if I make the cut-off for semifinalists on the NMS, haha. Probably, last year's was 2170. Hope springs eternal, &c., &c. On the brighter side, my mother is now much more open to the idea of my completing high school in four years rather than three.
Because. Well. AWESOME. I don't know about the director or whatever - the set was good, insofar as it wasn't distracting or covered with weirdly flashing lights (this becomes more and more of a problem every time I go to see a new Shakespeare play, ahaha) - and the acting was fine and dandy, with two notable exceptions (General Burgoyne and Richard Dudgeon were both wonderful); but the play - in and of itself - was great, hilarious and kind of sweet. My only slight objection was a total of three lines in the ending, because frankly, Dudgeon deserved better than priesthood. What happened to reviling Puritan cruelty and endorsement of Lucifer's charms, eh? Eh? *mutters* Still, not enough to deter me from my adoration.
And then I went home and read the script, because it was that much fun. Yesss. I'm not really a theatrical person, these days, and I never watched anything but what my parents hauled me off to see, but seriously, that was great and I'm really glad I saw the play before I went to read the script, even though the script is lovely too. So uh. Yeah. Stamp of approval, I is having it right here.
IN OTHER NEWS:
Today, on the other hand, was ridiculous - in a different way - because today I got PSAT scores back.
Nngh, you guys. Nngh.
I spent the entire day unsure as to whether to be extremely pleased or mildly depressed. I hate subject bias. I did very respectably in both reading and writing - 800 and 760 respectively - but only passingly in math with a 680. Plus, one of my answers was off by one. One! I ask you! *abuses past self*
We'll see if I make the cut-off for semifinalists on the NMS, haha. Probably, last year's was 2170. Hope springs eternal, &c., &c. On the brighter side, my mother is now much more open to the idea of my completing high school in four years rather than three.