(no subject)
okay, this one is for lorraine.
wine drunk makes you dance.<3
so
With last weekends leftover merlot floating through my bloodstream, and as there was nothing interesting me down the 3rd floor hallway, I retired to my room. I nearly forgot that Lorraine was in here aimlessly flipping through her Women's Studies Textbook desperate to catch up on what was on her test the following day. When I suggested that we went outside to enjoy a cigarette, she reminded me of a conversation we'd had at dinner, hours earlier. The force of my own words comming out of her mouth seemed somehow stronger and more eager. "What happened to my voice?", five simple words I had muttered earlier that night through the mucus currently coating my throat. Lorraine and I just met this past month. Six months have passed since I left the first true love of my life, even thought friends from all the chapters of my life warned me, you won't be yourself with out him. Him!? Theater. The Stage. Singing. Dancing. Acting. Took a vicious backseat, to nonexsistence since last March. At first, it was a break, a hyatis. Now, I could sit here and weep, my love is gone. The only thing to make me happy has been completely disregarded, I feel ungrateful and bitter. Back to Lorraine who innocently joked "Nooo, instead of smoking, sing me a showtune, make yourself feel bad for smoking in the first place." My playlist took it from there, guiding me throught the past I can't belive has been left there, in the past. I danced old choreography, fresh in my head. The hardest part was playing "How Could I Ever Know" from The Secret Garden, a song that once brought an entire room of people to almost tears. Memories remind me of how awkward I felt when people told me I sounded beautiful and I did the song justice, I can't do it anymore. I've failed. And that was MY song. I'm really glad that no one had "My New Philosophy" or "Stars and The Moon" on i2hub. I would have broken down. I was the best Sally Brown that You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown ever saw. I shoulden't write this, I'm drunk.
Theater has been everything to me before I started liking sex and drugs. Basically. Before I was THE SSSAAC SLUT and CRAZY FUCKIN CAIT SQUIRES I was Cait Squires of the dramaclubchorusshowchoirjazzchoicejazzdance winning awards, belting solos, throwing myself around clad in sequins and heels. I sang songs to Lorraine to make her laugh, she laughed, took pictures, we were just being silly girls enjoying our time together. But, it brought a lot more up in my brain. I'll be ready to go back sooner than planned. I need theater more than anything else.
After the performance whitch entailed; "I Enjoy Being a Girl" - Flower Drum Song, "One" - A Chorus Line, "Hello, Dolly" - Hello, Dolly!, "Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee" - Grease, and a few Frank Sinatra tunes for good measure, I did a fabulous one girl performance of "La Vie Boheme (A)" from RENT (Stacy, You'd have been proud!!). With the song still playing in my head and Lorraine still laughing, I went to wash my face and brush my teeth and that was when it really hit me. The feeling. After the show is over, the curtain closed, the mistakes laughed about, the good parts and compliements overdiscussed, you leave your hair in updo, wash your makeup off, put on comfortable yet fashionable clothes and go out. You go out with your best friends. After your in a show with someone, theres a bond that really cannot be changed or forgotten. Other performers see you at every angel, angry, overworked, overjoyed, drunk, tired, bitchy from being on a diet, naked from being backstage, throwing up from nerves...they see you for everything you are, and they still fucking love you.
Then, then is the best part. Celebrate. Champange. Pizza. The sound and light boys<3.
i miss caitlin boyle. i miss corrupting everyone. i should audition for the next musical i see audition signs for. and i will.
and im quitting smoking.
<3
this concludes my winedrunkthrusdaynite rant.
thank you.
and goodnight.
wine drunk makes you dance.<3
so
With last weekends leftover merlot floating through my bloodstream, and as there was nothing interesting me down the 3rd floor hallway, I retired to my room. I nearly forgot that Lorraine was in here aimlessly flipping through her Women's Studies Textbook desperate to catch up on what was on her test the following day. When I suggested that we went outside to enjoy a cigarette, she reminded me of a conversation we'd had at dinner, hours earlier. The force of my own words comming out of her mouth seemed somehow stronger and more eager. "What happened to my voice?", five simple words I had muttered earlier that night through the mucus currently coating my throat. Lorraine and I just met this past month. Six months have passed since I left the first true love of my life, even thought friends from all the chapters of my life warned me, you won't be yourself with out him. Him!? Theater. The Stage. Singing. Dancing. Acting. Took a vicious backseat, to nonexsistence since last March. At first, it was a break, a hyatis. Now, I could sit here and weep, my love is gone. The only thing to make me happy has been completely disregarded, I feel ungrateful and bitter. Back to Lorraine who innocently joked "Nooo, instead of smoking, sing me a showtune, make yourself feel bad for smoking in the first place." My playlist took it from there, guiding me throught the past I can't belive has been left there, in the past. I danced old choreography, fresh in my head. The hardest part was playing "How Could I Ever Know" from The Secret Garden, a song that once brought an entire room of people to almost tears. Memories remind me of how awkward I felt when people told me I sounded beautiful and I did the song justice, I can't do it anymore. I've failed. And that was MY song. I'm really glad that no one had "My New Philosophy" or "Stars and The Moon" on i2hub. I would have broken down. I was the best Sally Brown that You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown ever saw. I shoulden't write this, I'm drunk.
Theater has been everything to me before I started liking sex and drugs. Basically. Before I was THE SSSAAC SLUT and CRAZY FUCKIN CAIT SQUIRES I was Cait Squires of the dramaclubchorusshowchoirjazzchoicejazzdance winning awards, belting solos, throwing myself around clad in sequins and heels. I sang songs to Lorraine to make her laugh, she laughed, took pictures, we were just being silly girls enjoying our time together. But, it brought a lot more up in my brain. I'll be ready to go back sooner than planned. I need theater more than anything else.
After the performance whitch entailed; "I Enjoy Being a Girl" - Flower Drum Song, "One" - A Chorus Line, "Hello, Dolly" - Hello, Dolly!, "Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee" - Grease, and a few Frank Sinatra tunes for good measure, I did a fabulous one girl performance of "La Vie Boheme (A)" from RENT (Stacy, You'd have been proud!!). With the song still playing in my head and Lorraine still laughing, I went to wash my face and brush my teeth and that was when it really hit me. The feeling. After the show is over, the curtain closed, the mistakes laughed about, the good parts and compliements overdiscussed, you leave your hair in updo, wash your makeup off, put on comfortable yet fashionable clothes and go out. You go out with your best friends. After your in a show with someone, theres a bond that really cannot be changed or forgotten. Other performers see you at every angel, angry, overworked, overjoyed, drunk, tired, bitchy from being on a diet, naked from being backstage, throwing up from nerves...they see you for everything you are, and they still fucking love you.
Then, then is the best part. Celebrate. Champange. Pizza. The sound and light boys<3.
i miss caitlin boyle. i miss corrupting everyone. i should audition for the next musical i see audition signs for. and i will.
and im quitting smoking.
<3
this concludes my winedrunkthrusdaynite rant.
thank you.
and goodnight.