"Do you think it will be too loud?" came the excited whisper.

"Definitely not", shook the answer.

"...Then let's do it."

The hush of anticipated competition clouded the room; the excited shuffle of feet and rolling of wheels echoed off the completely obscured walls. Bob Dylan and Marlon Brando peeked around corners in hopes of catching a snippet; ( Read more... )

Who's Who is NOT:

National Merit Scholar Finalist
National Honor Society President
Secretary of Jazz Choir
Historian of SWAT for four years
Senior Director
Officer of Starlight Theatre Company
Girl Scout for eight years
Group Leader of Camp Bowie
Group Leader of Freshman Orientation for four years
3 Trustee Awards
Thousands of volunteer hours
Five ( Read more... )

You don't care. End the facade. It's only more painful when your indifference is evinced.

The words 'I love you' have never held less meaning. I'm forced to live by your actions, which are less than lovely.

I need to leave. I can only hope Evansville will accept me. One of five?

Happy Birthday, Philip.

Academy is fucking beautiful at 12:00 AM. There were about one million burnt-orange clad UT fans lined up around the parking lot of Academy. Melendy, Katie, Spencer and I were lucky enough to be close enough to touch the building.

Tonight was intense. The good intense.

I will get you tomorrow, Ben Harrison.

I will get you Friday, Hillary Harrison.

(Very different intentions.)

( Just for my castie: )

I feel that creating an entry about the absolute and utter disrespect that has infiltrated the theatre department, and more specifically my life, would not even begin to convey how pissed off I was earlier today, and will most likely continue to be again at 4:30 on Monday. And therefore, I will not elaborate.

Happy Birthday, baby. I hope your year just gets better and better.

I have less than 7 hours before my childhood is over. I will be 18 years old. That's sortof incomprehensible to me.