Plays and the like
I'm reading The Glass Menagerie, and feel really bad for Tom. Poor bastard gets sucked into supporting his mother and sister and in doing so unintentionally allows the two women to keep their neuroses-riddled, selfish, self-absorbed mindsets.
Yeah I'm sure there's more to it than that...but really I can't get past the fact that a good number of people in my Theatre 200 class seem to think of Tom as some villian. When they weren't criticizing Tom up the wazoo and talking about what he should've done.... they complained about the general depressing features of the play, and certainly none wanted to admit they felt a connection with the Evil Bad Guy (yeah nevermind that other dude who cheats on his fiance). Geeze, the poor SOB can't even go out to the movies without getting bitched at.
My stupid self left reading the play for this weekend in favor of reading "La Casa de Bernarda Alba" (which, btw, was written in '36 at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War; T.G.M. was set at the end of the Civil War...talk about really depressing), so I couldn't/wouldn't participate in class discussion except to listen and take notes. Stupid people all felt sorry for Amanda...AMANDA I tell you! The only one to blame for that mess is herself...you heard the woman talking about all these guys...she could've married one of them and yet she knowingly chose the guy who was possibly the most unstable of them all. Cause he was a charmer. Eugh. Then she badgers her son into producing another charmer, like the one she screwed up her life with, for her daughter who you really don't want me to get into yammering on about cause Laura seriouslY...omg, want to smack that stupid ...nevermind, want to slap her silly.
So that's the extent of my (obviously less-than-impressive) brilliance. Dave gave me a B for my sweeping in Theatre Production today... so I suck. And can't cut boards properly to boot.
Tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm not musically/ artistically inclined (if you excuse the painting of styrofoam rocks, cause those were awesome), don't cook, can't cut a board properly, my skills as a "manager" are somewhat limited in that I tend to rule through snap-age. I'm definitely not a "whisperer" (Beth, Bean, you know what I'm talking about), apparently don't sweep properly, according to Grandma I don't know how to wash dishes or follow directions, and according to Uncle Eric I'm a burden to my family... I'm destined to live life in a cardboard box or something. With cats. Hey, you know it's got a basis in reality when two different people in the time span of 2 hours bring it up to you randomly.
Stupid fucking whatsit.
Y'know this started off as a "facebook note" and turned into something considerably longer and less coherent (if that were possible).
Damn depressing plays. I'm trapped with them for the rest of the semester... silly Spanish realists. And those blatant homosexuals who drive pink caddies through N'Awlins looking for "hot sailor boys on leave" (--J. Brandon)
I think I was the only one in class who thought that image was really amusing.
Yeah I'm sure there's more to it than that...but really I can't get past the fact that a good number of people in my Theatre 200 class seem to think of Tom as some villian. When they weren't criticizing Tom up the wazoo and talking about what he should've done.... they complained about the general depressing features of the play, and certainly none wanted to admit they felt a connection with the Evil Bad Guy (yeah nevermind that other dude who cheats on his fiance). Geeze, the poor SOB can't even go out to the movies without getting bitched at.
My stupid self left reading the play for this weekend in favor of reading "La Casa de Bernarda Alba" (which, btw, was written in '36 at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War; T.G.M. was set at the end of the Civil War...talk about really depressing), so I couldn't/wouldn't participate in class discussion except to listen and take notes. Stupid people all felt sorry for Amanda...AMANDA I tell you! The only one to blame for that mess is herself...you heard the woman talking about all these guys...she could've married one of them and yet she knowingly chose the guy who was possibly the most unstable of them all. Cause he was a charmer. Eugh. Then she badgers her son into producing another charmer, like the one she screwed up her life with, for her daughter who you really don't want me to get into yammering on about cause Laura seriouslY...omg, want to smack that stupid ...nevermind, want to slap her silly.
So that's the extent of my (obviously less-than-impressive) brilliance. Dave gave me a B for my sweeping in Theatre Production today... so I suck. And can't cut boards properly to boot.
Tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm not musically/ artistically inclined (if you excuse the painting of styrofoam rocks, cause those were awesome), don't cook, can't cut a board properly, my skills as a "manager" are somewhat limited in that I tend to rule through snap-age. I'm definitely not a "whisperer" (Beth, Bean, you know what I'm talking about), apparently don't sweep properly, according to Grandma I don't know how to wash dishes or follow directions, and according to Uncle Eric I'm a burden to my family... I'm destined to live life in a cardboard box or something. With cats. Hey, you know it's got a basis in reality when two different people in the time span of 2 hours bring it up to you randomly.
Stupid fucking whatsit.
Y'know this started off as a "facebook note" and turned into something considerably longer and less coherent (if that were possible).
Damn depressing plays. I'm trapped with them for the rest of the semester... silly Spanish realists. And those blatant homosexuals who drive pink caddies through N'Awlins looking for "hot sailor boys on leave" (--J. Brandon)
I think I was the only one in class who thought that image was really amusing.