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#I am eternally sad that a lot of my favorite characters would never ever in a million years be friends if they met

#like: Loki will never be friends with anybody

#Vimes will never be friends with kings

#Marcone will not be friends with anybody not loyal to either him or Chicago

#(or willing to help him help realize his plans for Chicago)

#(with a very clear well-laid-out bargain of exactly what they will want in return)

#(and that being something he is willing to pay)

#Thorin will not be friends with anyone not a dwarf of Erebor

#unless they prove beyond doubt that they have decided to throw in their lot with the dwarves of Erebor and share their danger

#and also not go against his decisions when he decides things in his capacity as King

#Temeraire might be friends with a great many people but Lawrence won't if they're against England in the war

#and Temeraire won't for Lawrence's sake

#Roy Mustang is perfectly willing to be friendly but he is also very done with fighting for someone else's goals

#and a lot of the others won't be friends with him if he won't fight for their goals

#Scar will not be friends with anyone but other Ishbalans and May Chang

#because he fights for his people

#and if you're not fighting for his people you may occasionally work together to achieve a mutual goal but that's it

#(May Chang wasn't on purpose but oh well they're friends now)

#Zuko is bad at people

#but he'd be willing to be friends!

#unless he's working on achieving a goal

#then sorry but hunting the avatar takes priority

#King Henry had friends once

#I think we all know what happened there

#Rumplestiltskin don't make me laugh

#Pellaeon is too busy running an Empire to have friends who aren't ~trusted subordinates~ first and foremost

#yeah Boromir is not going to be your friend if you're not actively helping Gondor

#(unless you are a hobbit and therefore fall into the category of 'noncombatant; to be protected')

#Javert has no friends Javert is the Law

#The Law doesn't have friends

#Garak will be your friend on his own terms

#they are not very reasonable terms though and if Julian is willing to meet them that's nice but no one else here is going to because gosh look at this enormous list of people with massive trust issues oh dear

#let's not even get into people like Edmund and Richard III and the Macbeths and Aaron and Tybalt and Claudius

#PINKIE PIE WILL BE YOUR FRIEND

#*everyone else on this list takes ten steps backwards and turns very pale*
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My most dear lords

OMG okay so here is a story

I spent many years being all like "Dude, Macbeth is effing awesome. No idea what the big deal is about Hamlet and Lear, though."

And indeed! Macbeth is effing awesome, it is true.

And then Hamlet took over my brain (Eyal, I am so so sorry) and I was like zOMG Hamlet!

And then I remembered Macbeth and I was all "Hamlet and Macbeth are totally effing awesome! Seriously, who gives a hoot about this Lear chick?" (Lear is not a chick, but I cannot at the moment think of a properly dismissive term that is also masculine, which is... pretty sad)

I AM TELLING YOU

ALL THOSE YEARS I WASTED

NOT SQUEEING OVER EDMUND.

Okay this is only sort of a lie; I did squee a great deal over Edmund (see: any entry tagged "king lear"). BUT APPARENTLY NOT ENOUGH, IS MY POINT HERE.

EEEDMUUUUND. SO BEAUTIFUL AND AMAZING. NEVER CHANGE, BASTARD OF MY HEART.
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Y'know, ever since the internet happened, back in, like, fifth or sixth grade, I've always hated the transient nature of anything on it. Because there was this beautiful Temeraire-esque story told from the perspective of the dragon Keska the Silver, who had just been assigned a new captain after the death of her beloved General Ashryn. The characters- Keska, Ashryn, and the new captain, whose name I've forgotten- were all so wonderfully fleshed out and had virtues and flaws and dude, for a piece of original fiction on someone's personal webpage on the internet that I found when I was, like, nine or ten, it was insanely awesome. Seriously, it was all very very Temeraire. I have my suspicions as to its author.

Anyway, it's obvs. long gone. Long gone. Wow, is it ever gone. I don't think I ever even knew the url, I always just followed a trail of links from Vivian Chang's webpage...

I wish I'd saved it. It was honestly very good.

I would save bits and pieces of discussion from the PPC boards, filk and fill-the-plothole and clever remarks and the entirety of The Great Sex Debate. I saved each and every AIM chat I ever had- there are over 200 with Paul alone (the one where he asks me out is number 14, IIRC). I save icons I like, drawings and pieces of art that I like, I missed downloading mistful's fanfic before she took it down, e-mailed her requesting it to no avail, and mourned for months before some charitable soul e-mailed it to me in response to my shameless begging in her journal. When Tanarian announced that she planned to take down her fic, I spent a panicked few hours saving all of it. I printed off S&A fanfiction, unfortunately missing out on a few of my favorites before they disappeared, and all of seperis' analyzation of ST:reboot with the accompanying discussion. I printed off The Dead Isle, before it gets edited, because I *like* it like this. I saved a poem or two from Ayano's site rainrain. I saved every scene with hints of Bart/Carry for fear that Sam didn't ship them and would later cut them out. I saved rallalon's In Human Hands. I saved Turning Point and Full Circle. I saved every production photograph of last summer's Macbeth. I saved various R&G fanfics. More recently, I save vids I like, though I was too late to catch many that I had loved dearly- the Defiant one set to King Nothing, Kirk/Spock set to Take Me or Leave Me, and the very first fanvid I ever saw and what remains one of the best I have ever seen, the Viktory set to Once Upon a December.

Man, every time I remember something having been awesome, and go to look for it again, only to find it gone- I hate that. I hate most when the *creator themselves* takes it down for whatever reason. I know I'm supposed to just respect their wishes in those situations, but I can't help but resent it. I can never be sincerly understanding when they're all like "oh, I hated that fic, I didn't want anyone reading it." Because, well- dammit, I didn't hate that fic and I would like it back plzkthx.

I ought to work as an archivist, or in a museum or something. I like to preserve things.

(where does today meet yesterday?)

Goodbye.
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I didn't watch the Macbeth one, and I tried watching the Cyrano one, but Colm Feore saying Cyrano with a French accent is just too much for me. The first and only one I watched, then, was the Julius Caesar, which had Antony and Hamlet Brutus sitting and talking with some stranger. and OMG Antony is a surfer, and he and his wife are having a baby, and Hamlet just got engaged, and also also also Hamlet keeps slipping into Elizabethan English and accidentally quoting lines. I am so glad to learn that that happens to someone other than me. (OMG, Hamlet and Antony are both awesome and I'm in love.)

I actually thought Antony- for all that I always and will forever love Antony- was the weakest part of the production the first time I saw it, but then I saw it again and was like NEVERMIND, ANTONY IS MADE OF WIN AND COVERED IN AWESOMESAUCE. Which of course he is. Also, Antony. Antony may be one of my favourite characters in all of Shakespeare.

And they kept calling him Mackers, and I thought they were just being weird until the stranger explained that it was because they were habitually superstitious. OH ACTORS. ILU. And then when Hamlet explained that Mackers was simply a nickname for Macbeth (and oh, Hamlet, he pronounces Macbeth the way he pronounces Brutus- two distinct syllables, enunciated for the cheap seats awwwww) and Antony was all, "don't tell Colm we're saying it like this, 'cause he's in the building somewhere" and they call each other by their first names! That is so weird. I mean, yes, actors are people too but still.

Stranger: So I think you might call this a very masculine play-
Antony: That's why they cast us.
Hamlet: Yes.
Antony: We wrestle.
Hamlet: And then we have beer and wings.
Stranger: Haha. But I've heard some women say, you know, what's in it for me?
Antony: All the men!
Hamlet: Yeah, I think you, you've got some pretty revealing costumes there...
Antony: That's for the next webcast.

They did then mention that yeah, seriously, the questions that the characters wrestle with are questions that plague humanity and not specifically men, like whether it's okay to commit evil to prevent evil, or if it's even possible.

I am disappointed that they did not talk about the slash. Whenever you look for Shakespeare slash fics, honestly, Julius Caesar is dominating the list.

Tamar and I watched Trevor Nunn's 12th Night yesterday. When Horatio Antonio comes in and takes off his "disguise" (a hat and glasses? Seriously, man? Seriously?) and says "I could not stay away!" she just looked at me and goes "you're right, he is in love with him." And I am like "Of course he is!" Because I read this play back before I even had slash goggles, and I still couldn't explain his behavior any way but that Antonio is madly in love with Sebastian. Poor dear.

Tamar and I went to Younker's today, to get her boots for her interview, and I came home with a lovely pair of knee-high boots with 3.5" heels and they are awesome and shiny and were on sale, yay me.

And I'm going to bed now. Lila tov everybody.

Goodbye.

Halloween

Oct. 23rd, 2009 11:35 pm
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Come with me to Stratford, anybody. Colm Feore will make it worth your while, trust me.

Goodbye.
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Bewarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre Macdoof! Forrrr none shall ever harrrrm Macbeth 'til Birrrrnam Wood come to Dunsinane... don'tcha know.

(Dear Reduced Shakespeare Company: CUT THE CRAP MY BIOLOGICAL CLOCK IS TICKING AND YOU CAN TOTALLY HAVE MY FIRSTBORN CHILD.)

So, Macbeth is made of win win win, and I have managed to acquire four tragedies in one volume (Hamlet Othello King Lear Macbeth), Old School Bantam Edition. And also Hamlet. So now I have four Old School Bantam Hamlets, and life is good.

Have narrowed my wedding dress down to two colours! Either this, uh, Caitlin's Eema called it a medium blue, or this dark Christmassy holly green.

Have also bought a beret, at MacLeod's Scottish Shop in Stratford, and am wearing it with Scottish pride. The main reason, as Paul rightly guessed, is that the men in Macbeth were seriously rocking the military berets. Shh no one can tell, it is pink dusty rose and very feminine.

(Dude, dude, Shakespearian men in uniform with berets, speaking in iambic pentameter and sometimes they took the berets off and folded them and stuffed them under their shoulder epaulettes and I'll be in my bunk.)

Macbeth! I will report on it properly, I promise, but now I need to clear out of the office before someone comes in and sees me and is all "why are you still here shibi go away."

Goodbye.
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So once in a while I find something that exists and I'm all like, there is no way the creator(s) of this did not custom-make this for me. I mean, this is perfectly tailor-made for my exact tastes. That cannot be random coincidence. Am I mad? Am I in a coma? Or am I back in time just really easily pleased?

Eh.

So Sharpe, right, I realize none of you care for it much but BOROMIR, IN THE NAPOLEONIC WARS, WITH A KICKASS WIFE. And let's not forget the rest of the Chosen Men, because they're winful. Or Lord Wellington, on whom I am fast developing mad historical crushes. (Have I mentioned how much I love Sharpe/Teresa lately? Because guys, it's a period action flick. You don't get good female characters, much less good romances, in period action flicks. But Teresa! And Sharpe/Teresa! It is very very good.)

A quick summary of the movies:

Sharpe's Rifles: Sharpe meets the Chosen Men by waking up Harper, who promptly attacks him. They roll around on the stable floor until some superior officers wander in and go WTF SHARPE YOU CAN'T DO THAT YOU'RE AN OFFICER NOW REMEMBER.

So Sharpe waits until they're gone. And then he and Harper resume their scuffle on the floor of a different stable. Then Teresa walks in and goes, So, I'm an experienced leader of soldiers. You really shouldn't do that, now that you're an officer and all.

So Sharpe ties up Harper's hands and wrestles with him in a river.

Sharpe's Eagle: The very first thing we see is Harper in Sharpe's tent, nursing his wounds, shaving him, dressing him, and singing him lullabies. Then we meet the South Essex. The South Essex are flogged soldiers, completely green troops, and led by an idiot. Sharpe takes them out for some basic training.

The men are no good at shooting. So Sharpe tells them all to strip to their shirts, and they do, and they're still apparently not good enough so Sharpe takes off his own shirt and struts up and down in front of them bare-chested and then they are inspired and perform amazing feats of gunnery. And then one of them takes the opportunity to swoon into Sharpe's arms.

We also meet Colonel Lawford, who offers himself as comfort in place of Sharpe's lover Teresa, who has gone off spyhatting. YOU THINK I'M MAKING THIS UP, YOU GUYS.

Oh yeah, and Lieutenant Billings is hopelessly in love with James Bond, who thinks that Billings is in love with the Countess, and so tries to get her for Billings, but is stopped by Sharpe, who- naturally- rolls around with him on the ground. And actually gets beaten up, because it's Bond, James Bond, you guys, and it's all very tragic, and goes like this:

James Bond: Fancy a fumble, old boy?
Billings: *hopes very hard that he just heard what he thought he heard*
James Bond: *indicates nearby wenches*
Billings: *tear*
James Bond: Well, you might as well have the maids, since you can't have the mistress.
Billings: *makes cow eyes at James Bond over cards*
James Bond: *wins at cards* You want a woman, old boy.
Billings: Do I?
James Bond: Plenty of fish in the sea, old boy.
Billings: *meaningful look* You know what I want.
James Bond: The Countess, of course.
Billings: *tear*
James Bond: *wins at cards*
Billings: I'm unlucky. Unlucky in cards. *meaningful look* Unlucky in love.
James Bond: You know what? I'll go get her for you.
Billings: Wait, no, that's not-
James Bond: I HAZ A RIDING CROP. KINK TIEM NAOW Y/Y?
Teresa: Your fellow officer is harassing the Countess. Go stop him.
Sharpe: *tries*
Sharpe: *gets beaten up by James Bond*
Superior Officers: *walk in on Sharpe and Bond rolling around* GOD, SHARPE, WE CAN'T TAKE YOU ANYWHERE, CAN WE.
Sharpe: *is ded of Bond*
James Bond: RAR.
Sharpe: *stands in front of Countess*
Sharpe: *sways on feet*
Teresa: *stands in front of Countess in case Sharpe falls over*
James Bond: So you can pay the debts she owes her servants?
Sharpe: ...
American Southern Gentleman: *hands Sharpe the money, v. surreptitiously, in front of everyone*
Sharpe: ...
Sharpe: ...
Sharpe: *pays*
Countess: Oh, thank you, Richard Sharpe.
Sharpe: *now owes Southern Gentlemen more money than he'll ever see in his life*
Sharpe: *wanders off to sulk*
Countess: Oh, Commandante Teresa, you're so lucky to have him.
Teresa: *shrugs* Eh. He is lucky to have me.

Guys, you would not believe how much of that was quoted verbatim.

Sharpe's Company: There is a battle, but we pretty much immediately cut to Sharpe shirtless. A tiny adorable Sweet Polly Oliver shows up and is immediately taken with Sharpe and starts following him everywhere, when Pete Postelthwaite shows up. Sharpe slams him into a wall and sends him on his way.

Pete Postelthwaite finds Teresa and attacks her, because he's been creepily stalking Sharpe and trying to kill his lovers ever since India. Teresa, of course, hands him his arse and is considering just slitting his throat and having done when Harper enters, and then Sharpe. Sharpe snarls a lot and then (actually pretty unwisely) decides to opt out of cold-blooded murder. So Pete Postelthwaite insults Harper, who attacks him, and then Sharpe jumps into the dogpile, and they all three roll around on the stable floor and then in the streets until some superior officers happen along and go GOD SHARPE NOT AGAIN SERIOUSLY THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND.

And lo, the Sweet Polly Oliver follows Sharpe doggedly around for the rest of the movie.

Sharpe's Enemy: I only started rewatching this one, guys, but it definitely opens with Sharpe and all five Chosen Men shirtless and playing informal rugby and tackling each other and the superior officers walk up just as Sharpe is shirtlessly dogpiled by all of his shirtless men. And they just roll their eyes and go yeah, must be Tuesday.

(Seriously, guys, how is there not a bigger fandom for this sort of thing?)

Started watching Life on Mars with Eema. I'm- as much as I like it, I'm leery of this show. I know shows like this. Shows like this do not hold back. They do not show mercy. I am very firm with myself here- I will not get too involved with you, Life on Mars. We can just keep this casual, right? We can just keep the emotions out of it, okay, because I have been hurt too many times in the past by shows like you. But I just can't stay away like I know I should, because you are really good.

Hey Torchwood? I think it's best that we spend some time apart right now. I think we can work it out, I do, I'm willing to make that effort if you are. I just need some time.

Oh right, but I started this because I wanted to talk about Leverage, because guys guys guyyyyyys, it is JUST FOR ME. It is every episode a heist flick (I love heist flicks!) for some Robin Hood-esque mission (I love Robin Hood!) with five awesome characters (TEAM!), two of which have lots of fun sparky chemistry (Nate/Sophie otp!) and are also kind of Team Parents, you know how it goes, and the other three of which are all together and shiny (Eliot/Parker/Hardisan OT3 OF AWESOME) and also, Badger (BADGER!) is quite possibly Nate's bitter ex, but in any case he's Nate's evil equivalent (Evil Mastermind Badger!) and there are HEISTS.

I was looking for music videos and I noticed that when you are just watching clips without sound, seriously you guys this entire show looks like a gag reel.

I love it.

Also, I've ordered The Fall off Netflix. Yes, I know.

When I read Wyrd Sisters for the first time, I was obsessed with Macbeth and I was all, OMG, this book is so good!

Then I re-read it after I read Hamlet too, and was all OMG, this book is even better than I thought!

And then I just re-read it now, being presently obsessed with a good deal of Shakespeare, but Hamlet and Macbeth in particular, and I was all OMG THIS BOOK IS EVEN BETTER NOW.

Looking forward to re-reading Watership Down, reading Fast Ships Black Sails, and kind of dreading kind of flailing with impatience for Treason's Shore. (What an awful title. Ms. Smith, we need to have some words about that title.)

AUDITIONS ARE ON SUNDAY.

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW DEAD I AM.

I AM SO DEAD.

Off to practice and die.

Goodbye.
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So Aba brought some new pens into the office. Alas my red pen remains the only red pen in the world and when it gives up the ghost I don't know what I'll do for a father for a husband AW MAN, ROSSSSS. But there are very fine-point black pens that write sharp as you please, and these lovely blue pens that write softly and I love them dearly already. OM NOM NOM INK.

Had one swing dancing lesson. Have another tomorrow, and then cannot have another until I have saved up some money. Sad face, I am broke like a broken thing. Aww yeah, livin' on rice. Still have plenty of rice. And eggs! Rice and eggs. And dish soap. Actually I'm running out of dish soap.

Have started practicing for thrice-cursed auditions. *tfu tfu tfu* Am making Paul help. One or both of us is sure to go mad. I'm betting it's me, because he claims to find the different orchestrations structurally interesting. Whatever, everyone just hates on the violins and gives them weird ledger lines, that is how that works.

So I asked my mother if perhaps I could have the ring that Aba gave her for their anniversary one year, the gold band with the millgrained edges, because to my recollection she's never even worn it, and it would be kind of cool to have an heirloom wedding ring. And she stared at me in utter confusion and assured me with perfect confidence that no such ring had ever existed. And just when I was starting to doubt my entire reality, Aba said that yes, I had gone with him to pick out such a ring, but then he had not actually bought it. Which is too bad, because it was quite pretty and would have nicely taken care of my something old.

Checked out the wedding planning section of the Okemos library. Only found two useful books: one about interfaith ceremonies, and one explaining wedding planning to the groom. It was entertaining and informative, as opposed to the one I checked out for the bride, which turned out to be condescending and useless. *shrugs*

Sent my beloved copy of Hamlet to Mical and Tamar to read before they see it on Saturday. US POSTAL SYSTEM, PLEASE BE TRUE.

I dunno guys, my life is pleasant but uneventful. Paul and I started watching the BBC miniseries of P&P and it was very true to the book but Paul says it lacks the charm, and I don't know how charming I found the book but it is true that I did not much feel like watching five more hours of it.

Love for Boromir Sean Bean continues epic. There's a photograph I saw somewhere of him playing Macbeth, which I would have liked to see. I DON'T KNOW IF ANY VERSION WILL EVER LIVE UP TO THIS ONE THOUGH. OMG OMG OMG COLM FEORE IN POSTCOLONIAL AFRICA, GUYS. IIIIIII KNOW.

Part of me is madly looking forward to ORCHESTRA again, and the other part of me is clinging madly to FREEEEEE TIIIIIIIIME while I have it, although to be honest most of the time I manage to find something to fill up every jot of free time I have. I am going to be so busy for the next year, it's going to be ridiculous. Not, like, y'know, Laura-busy, but busy.

Ok Paul is here bye.

Goodbye.
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Well, I dreamt that Paul and I were leading an army in a mock war. Well, when I say "leading" I mean Paul led, and I was his second-in-command. It was slightly Inda-style warfare, involving ships that sailed on land- we did use a fireship at one point- and also pulled the Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane, in that we chopped up bushes and carried them around as cover. Most of our classmates were in our army. We began in a museum, and then we sailed around and had to hide. There was no hierarchy below us- it was just Paul as kind of the only officer and me the only NCO, or something, and so I kept having to run around making everyone BE QUIET and STAY LOW, and it was kind of annoying but whatever. Anyway Paul's plans worked, and we took this fort, and then the enemy responded by sending a small squad to try to infiltrate us by tricking us into trusting them. They weren't sure which would work, I guess, so they tried them all at once, and sent in a small party made up of people disguised as a whore, a priest, Van Helsing, and a cowgirl, and I killed the soldiers disguised as a whore and a priest with throwing knives because how stupid do they think we are, and then I drew my pistol and killed the cowgirl and then Van Helsing and I shot each other. Then I realized that the cowgirl was refusing to admit she was dead, which is being a Poor Sport and Ruining It For Everybody, and I yelled at her, and she said, "no, we're all just wounded," so Van Helsing and I acted wounded but then the cowgirl refused to act wounded and was trying to get into the fort, and then Paul leading a small squad shot the cowgirl through the window, and showed her how the pattern of glass meant that she'd just been shot through both femoral arteries and she was dead, so if she'd lie down please. And so she finally did, and then Van Helsing and I agreed that really, he and I were both dead too, so we fell down at opposite sides of the passage like we would have, and the right side of my jacket had fallen open. Paul and the squad came up and I gave him a wry look, and one of the soldiers told me that I'd been a rollicking good Queen and would be missed, which was incredibly gratifying, and then they went off and I woke up.

(Before that there was all this stuff with my kittens and protecting them and going through a teacher's stuff while she was away, which I felt bad about but KITTENS, must protect them.)
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I'm showing off my icon to Tiffany Allison and Ali. There are a hundred Alis, two hundred Hannahs, and one Jessie Neilson. !!! What is she doing here? Also, LETTER FROM AYANO YAYYAYAYAY! I can never be as cool as Fleance (FLEANCE!) but I will try to stay cool. I was trying to explain the Coolness of Fleance to Brook the Cello Fellow, and was ranting about him for maybe twenty minutes before Brook managed to communicate that he'd never read Macbeth. So then of course I had to explain the entire play to him, and he walked away. I bet he feels enlightened now. I've sketched a few pictures of Meavon and Terne, but they don't really look right. I'll have to work with that. I got a new sketchbook! Eema sent it to me. It's cool and Chinese. Or something. I need to practice soon; we have Big Orchestra today and I just got the piece. Plus Mr. Slowik moved me to 2nd violin on Summer, so I need to learn that part now. Good thing I never worked too hard on the 1st violin part.

I really miss you guys! Laura, I now sympathize with you. At least people here speak English.

Played frisbee yesterday, with Water Balloon intermission. I got hit twice, but I think I hit a few more than that, so, I win! Ever notice how many nicknames get given in Frisbee? Who do we have... Peterzone, Wizard Tim, Skywalker, The Beast, Speedy Gonzales, Gimp, Flippo, etc. etc. I'm Defense Girl, or D-girl. That's from my reputation of jumping madly up and down, screaming hysterically, whenever I'm guarding someone. After a while they outlawed it. I was mad. That's really the only thing I'm good at, and I'm not allowed to do it anymore! *Bitterbitterbitter* Johanna, though (Beast), is AMAZING. Someday I'm going to be that good. Oo! I didn't run into a wall today! I was really proud of myself. I was racing Wizard Tim for the frisbee, and I thought I was beating him, but it turned out that he'd stopped because ODE there was a BIG STONE WALL right in front of us that of course I didn't see. Inches from it, I realized it was there, and stopped with a shriek. I didn't get the frisbee, but I DIDN'T HIT THE WALL. That is so cool! Yay for not hitting walls! Of course, this was after I'd already twisted my ankle stepping in a drain, bashed my nose running into Ryan, and had Josh run into my back. But I still caught the frisbee, that last time, and we made the point. It was cool.

So while we were playing, out of nowhere, Josh drops to the ground, does a push-up, and runs away into the dorms. We all get really confused, but keep playing. A little later, he comes out dragging his cello case. We think that he's going to go to the conservatory and practice, but he brings it out onto the field. The game pretty much stops, because you don't want to play with a CELLO in your way. (If it were a viola, maybe.) Then all of a sudden, when we draw around, he opens the case, takes out two water balloons, and hurls them at the nearest people. The whole case is full of them! Then in comes Blair with even more... w00t. It was hot and humid and we were all sweating like horses, so that was a great relief, and we all ganged up on Mark because he's a counselor, after all, and that's what you do with them. He swears revenge. Beware. Also, this morning there were treble clefs on every single door in the dorms, and I swear I didn't do it. So we're waiting to see what that might mean.

Yesterday I did my laundry. I enjoy doing laundry. Maybe I'm just crazy, but I do. I put my clothes in the machine and then I sing and dance until it's done, then I put them in the dryer and sing and dance until they're done, and then I fold them while they're still lovely and warm and put them in my drawers and everything looks nice and neat. Also, I have my own little laundry basket. That thing is so cool. And these little tablets of soap, which are also cool. And I borrowed some stain stuff from someone random, and it ruined poor Corey's toothpaste, and I think Julie accidentally took some of my tachtonim. I'm going to go practice now, because lunch is in about half an hour, and I have a lesson tomorrow and ODE I CAN'T PLAY THE CARMEN WORTH A HILL OF BEANS. No really I can't. Sarasate is Eyal.

But I'm happy that I haven't forgotten how to type yet. Thanks for your letters, Ayano and Alberta. I haven't gotten Alberta's yet, but Ayano's has made my day for today. Wheee! Wild Thing! I think I auditioned for a play of that once. For the part of the dog.

...

Shut up.

Anyway, have a fun day, and write to me!

Goodbye.
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Usually I just say "I'll do it later" because documenting, say, a week spent in Mexico, each day full of events that would take up pages on its own, is a very daunting task. But I like to look back on my entries later and remind myself of exactly how it was, and how I felt about it at the time. My own memory is sometimes unreliable, and I hate to think that someday I may forget that there was even something to remember. I'll be sixty, going "no, I don't think I went to prom my junior year," and then I can read my journal and it will remind me of all the angst, excitement, and drama behind it, or whatever. Er, yes. So now, about STRATFORD!

First of all, I've been looking forward to this trip since, oh, maybe October or November, when I first learned that Stratford was putting on Macbeth. I've really grown to love the Scottish play. Eru knows I never expected to. Romeo and Juliet, while enjoyable, was never something I really got into. Twelfth Night was fun to see performed, but not so much to read, and especially not to analyze. Midsummer Night's Dream I find silly. But Macbeth, Macbeth is something different. It's bleak and dark and bloody, exciting, dramatic, introspective, deeply psychological, and more angst than the whole of livejournal.com. And the characters! The reader/audience desperately wants to believe that they have nothing in common with the supposed "protagonists," couldn't sympathize with them in a million years, oh, no, they weren't even good people at the beginning. But against all our efforts, we empathize with them the entire play; understand them and feel for them. Malcolm's cause may be a just one, but we cannot completely like or hate his character. I guess the same goes for everyone. A lot of that is attributed more to directors and especially actors than the pure text, but there is NO character who is truly all good or all evil. AND I LOVE THAT SO MUCH! AH! It makes everything so much more real. Yes, there is supernatural, and contrived plot, and just plain all-out WEIRDNESS, but at the end of the day it still rocks. And then there's the famous soliloquy:

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays
Have lighted fools the way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
Who struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale told by an idiot,
Full of sound and fury-
Signifying nothing.

I love that speech. I *love* that speech. Why? I've thought about that a lot. I even drew a little character interaction between my two wolf-people as the one tried to explain to the other as to what exactly she (I) found so appealing about it.

Well, there's the way I learned it. My sisters had to memorize it for Haner's class, and they recited it so often that I learned it. I remember sitting in the car between the two of them, reciting it as they coached me on the dramamtic nuances of the lines. So one reason is that I link it to that memory I have of my sisters and I, together, having fun with acting on a long roadtrip.

(I don't get to do that anymore. It is just so terribly rare that we have the time to really fall back into that easy cameraderie, the three of us, the way it is with people who know each other as well as they know themselves, have spent a very long time in each others' company, and know that they're about to spend a lot more time together in the near future. Long car trips are really a good example.)

Then there's the novelty of the fact that I know it. I am a dreadful show-off, and few things make me happier than to impress someone with my memorization skills. Rattling off dramatic Shakespearean soliloquys is ideal for this, because it adds in the factor of "oh, look how intellectual I am, I know Shakespeare!" (Of course, I knew nothing of the play Macbeth for a long time, only that speech. I didn't even know who said it, besides the fact that it was "the evil guy." I pictured him as the photograph of Iago from Othello in our encyclopedia entry "Shakespeare." I imagined him standing alone in the middle of the stage, bitter about the happiness that the protagonists have gained (at his expense?), shouting at the audience his frustration at the pointlessness of life, almost trying to make them understand his point of view. It's an interesting picture.) It's an often-quoted speech. And whenever someone quoted from it, there's that little thrill of "hey, I know where that's from! I can say the rest of it!" For example, I always get excited whenever I hear it on Wishbone in the Back to the Future episode. So, the fact that it's so familiar to me.

Then there's the speech itself. It's so eloquent. Yeah, Shakespeare was an eloquent guy. And it's a really good example of the kind of beauty he could work with words. And it's an intriguing speech, a depressing outlook on life, but also a fascinating one, and a gorgeous way of saying it.

And then... there's what it says in the context of the play, about the characters. (This is the reason that the one wolf finally gave to the other.) You see, the relationship between Macbeth and his Lady is portrayed in countless ways by different directors. But it is almost *never* presented as a happy, healthy, marriage. They are often played as manipulative, or at complete odds, or abusive, or even completely insane. But- despite all that- and that's a lot, yes, but still- despite everything, here is the speech that says differently. Their love might not have been sweet or romantic. But here- here- for once- Macbeth is suddenly just a man, and Lady Macbeth is just a woman. And here is just a man whose wife has died, and now- suddenly- now that she is gone- he feels as if life is meaningless. And that says something. He does not mourn her as Macduff mourns his family. With Macduff, his pain is obvious and normal. His family is dead, he is shocked and horrified and grieved, and after "feeling it as a man," he channels this into anger and a desire for revenge. Macbeth is not initially unable to accept the fact that she is dead. Nor does he rant and roar and bewail. Suddenly he stops rampaging around. He delivers a relatively short speech. Life is meaningless. Nowhere does he state that it is meaningless because she is gone. But this is why he says it. Never before does he express any sort of sentiment to this extent. He tries to get all he can from life. But his Lady is dead and life holds no meaning. She is gone- Life's but a walking shadow. It sort of redeems the two of them, in a way. I dunno. I wouldn't have liked it if he had wept or mourned the way Macduff does, or the way someone in a movie or soap opera would. Because that's not him. And that's not his relationship with Lady Macbeth. It's so fitting, and deep, and touching. And I wish I could say that concisely and well, but I can't. So I take a long time and hedge and generally hope that you understand what I mean.

That's why I like that speech.

Er, now I will talk about Stratford. Really.

So I stayed up all night the night before. (Don't tell.) For one thing I couldn't sleep, and for another, I didn't particularly want to. It didn't matter, anyway. Ayano and I napped in the car, and I didn't feel tired until that night, which just made it easy for me to go to sleep "on time." I crawled into bed when I heard Eema's alarm clock and let her "wake me up." Ate daisa. Ayano came over a few minutes after seven. Due to Eema forgetting her shoes, though, and getting coffee, we didn't really leave until seven-thirty. We picked up Aba from the Detroit airport and headed for Canada.

At the border, they gave us little pins and magnets of the Canadian flag, because it was Canada day. Ayano and I each put a pin on our purses, and I put the extra one on Subtotal's ear as an earring or something. We drove straight to the theater and got our tickets, then went into town for lunch. We at at the same little cafe/bistro thing we did last time, and once again, I had tomato soup. It was still good. Too hot to eat fast, though, so I had to take some of it in a styrofoam bowl and leave it in the car during the performance.

Oh, the performance!!

Ayano and I had seats in the front row center. Which was Ah! so cool, because we could SEE THE ACTORS' FACES. The downside to this, of course, was that we could also see the massive amount of spitting that went on. Ew. But whatever, it's no worse than playing a wind instrument. I guess it's that sort of thing that they probably teach in acting school: How Not To Flinch When Your Co-Stars Are Unintentionally Spitting In Your Eye 101. The stage seemed so much bigger than it did from the balcony. There was also no set at all.

They mixed up the order of the scenes in the beginning a bit. Scene three was just before scene two, and Macbeth and Banquo froze in tableu on either side of the stage as the Captain consulted with Malcolm and Duncan and the rest. Duncan was kinda scary. Ayano compared him to Santa Claus with a knife behind his back. I agree. He had this kinda evil-sounding Ho Ho Ho kinda laugh, and whenever he did it everybody laughed along with him, like King Bull Sparra. He seemed kinda unpredictable. Also, it was kinda funny that he and Donalbain were black, but Malcolm was, er, really blonde and stuff. And dorky. And weird. I didn't like Malcolm. You got the impression that he wouldn't make a very good king, like maybe he'd try, but he'd just be a weak king. Not a really good leader or anything. Here's Ayano's impression.

Ayano as Malcolm: I like women. I like land. I would make a sucky king.
Ayano as Macduff: Damn. Goodbye.
Ayano as Malcolm: Nevermind. I lied. I would be a good king.
Ayano as Macduff: n.n;;
Ayano as Malcolm: Why are you silent?
Ayano as Macduff: To coin a phrase, duh.

And there were OVERCOATS OF SYMBOLISM!!!!! Let me point out that Duncan's overcoat was really scary-looking. And Malcolm's was so dorky. Yeah, see? Symbolic.

Of the witches, two were old and one was youngish, and kept on a rope by the oldest. I don't know why.

Macbeth closed his eyes when saying "Is this a dagger I see before me?" and then opened them just before saying "I see thee still."

Lady Macbeth was hysterical and FREAKY. But they seemed honestly glad to see each other when he came home after she read his letter. Of course, he seemed to be trying to strangle her later on while ranting, but hey, they're disturbed characters.

There was a huge white sheet covering the stage during the sleepwalking scene. She was dressed in white too. As the scene progressed she gradually drew the sheet in towards her, and as she left she took it with her.

The third murderer was Seyton, who then killed the other two murderers. They pronounced his name "See-ton."

Hecate was there. On the "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," the third witch (the young one on a rope) pointed her thumb downstage right. Then she swivelled around to point it upstage left, where Hecate stood. Hecate went "Very good!" sarcastically, so Witch3 swivelled around to point her thumb upstage right, where Macbeth stood. It was funny.

No scenes were cut. One was added, the feast at Inverness. Drunken!Malcolm, Donalbane, Angus, and Lady Macbeth sang and danced to that song about that farmer or whatever from Yarrow, the one with the line that's like "he died for me today, and I'll die for him tomorrow."

Banquo looked like Merry.

Macduff's son was chubby and cute. Not the best actor, but not bad. Ayano and I read in the credits that he was playing Romeo in some other production and cracked up.

Siward gave his little speech about not mourning his son, and Malcolm got angry, saying that he was worth more grief. Siward snapped back his line that he would not grieve. Malcolm stomped off and they all followed him, except for one old English guy whom Siward didn't see. When they were offstage, Siward turned away and struggled to control tears. The old guy put his hand on Siward's shoulder and led him off. I liked that too. Siward always bothered me with his "he died as a man, so I'm happy about his death." Poor Young Siward! You were left with this whole... no! He'd not supposed to die yet! He's young and wet-behind-the-ears and still all idealistic and has his whole life ahead of him! So it was well done.

Macduff was good- really the way I pictured him. Short, but broad-shouldered, slow of speech and slow to act, but not slow of mind. I liked that they actually had the battle between he and Macbeth, and that it ended not with swords, but just with plain no-holds-barred survival-of-the-fittest wrestling. Macduff broke Macbeth's neck. It was different from sword-fighting, sort of... I dunno. I can't really explain. Then it cut to Malcolm, pacing impatiently outside the castle at Dunsinane. Finally Macduff walks in and goes "it is done," Malcolm makes his little speech (all satisfied) and goes off. But Macduff was not jubilant over Macbeth's death. As Malcolm and the thanes walked off, Lady Macduff and her two sons walked back onstage and stood there, behind Macduff, who was standing in the center, looking out. Lady Macduff began to sing, and slowly Macduff fell to his knees, hung his head, and began to weep. The lights went down to spotlights on the four of them, then out completely. It was an interesting ending, and one I rather liked. It was kinda... yeah, Macbeth's dead and the new king is on the throne... but none of that can help Macduff, and revenge will not bring his loved ones back. It provided a lot more closure than the pure text did. I felt that just ending it where Shakespeare did was almost... disrespectful of the tragedy. There was no resolution, no closure. Macbeth is dead, and Malcolm's acting like "oh, everything's good now! I'm king!" and that sort of... belittles everything in the play that's happened. So I liked that it showed that it still didn't help. There're still things left behind. It was deep and nice.

And Macbeth was played by the same guy as Petruchio!

When Macbeth comes to question the witches, and they're putting stuff in their pot, there are a ton of people around them, including Fleance.

Fleance! I finally get to talk about Fleance.

FLEANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ee! Okay. First of all, he was SO CUTE. EE. With his sheepdog hair and stuff! He had this thing- Ayano and I named it the "monocular"- which was two lenses held together by a chain, one held to the eye and the other moved farther or closer to the first one, depending on how much you wanted to magnify something. He carried it around and looked through it, though at one point Duncan took it and looked back at him, then gave his evil!Ho Ho Ho. In the porter scene, Fleance came onstage and sat next to the porter on the bench, and the porter (sober) pretended that if he looked through the monocular, he would see things like the French tailor or the equivocator or whatever, and he would change his voice to imitate the porter of Hell. At one point Fleance did the voice, too. Between each person, the porter would say "knock knock!" and Fleance would ask "who's there?" It was a cute scene. Then Fleance left and the porter was like "remember the porter," all serious. And Fleance nodded, smiling, and ran off. Then Macduff came in and the porter gave them the lecture about drink being an equivocator for lechery. It was a *lot* less explicit than MSU, for which I was grateful. And Fleance had this just heartbreaking scene where he came upon Banquo's body. He knelt and just bent his head over his father for a while, then put the monocular in his hand and went off with the "Gentlewoman." Ayano and I decided she was most likely his nurse. Then he joined Malcolm in his fight, and it was again heart-wrenching to see Fleance, such a young and innocent character at the beginning, in full armor and carrying a sword much too long for him to wield properly. Anyway, we stalked him for the rest of the day, but couldn't find him. Darn. Oh well. We can always go back. We know he lives in Stratford. We can take him back in the trunk; customs doesn't check. Until then, we will write Fleancefic.

SO after the show, we browsed the gift shop and tried on outrageous hats. I found a lovely one, actually, butitwaskindafortydollars, so, oh well. Then we wandered around town for a while, but pretty much everything was closed for Canada Day, except for one store where I bought a pair of candlesticks for 81 Canadian cents. Oh, and peanut butter fudge at the Chocolate Factory. It gives new meaning to the phrase "Window Shopping," anyway, because that's what Ayano and I did, literally, is walk along and peer through store windows at the stuff inside, like the swords in the Scottish store. We found a cool little nook and then watched the Canada Day Fireworks. Makes up for missing the 4th of July ones tomorrow, I guess. Nice display. Oh, and we ate dinner at an Italian restaurant, where they had cool oil on a plate in a smiley face. Ayano and I made up a story about Meavon and Terne, an assassin and a mercenary. Then we went to sleep. In the morning we swam in the hotel pool, which was cold, but we went in the hot-tub afterwards and that was nice. Then we drove home. Ayano stayed over for a while, and we made a boat and a mutant plover. And we have created The Dreaded Moop, a creature with three heads (a reptile, a cat, and a bird of prey) and ten legs. One head goes MMM, one head goes OOO, and one head goes PPP. Moop. Also, "poom!" is our new excited noise.

It was a really fun trip.

Goodbye.
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That's a line from some song or other, but I can't place it. Anyway, I love summer so very much. So much time to spend with my friends and my boyfriend, reading or writing or drawing or just sitting around and putzing, but thinking mostly. And practicing, Carmen Fantasy and guitar. Listening to pretty music right now, a terribly funny song but it's such a lovely melody. A new shinyshiny cell phone, DC, Cedar Point, and now home. *happy sigh* Schuler's today. Met Ayano there, consequently got no reading done because we spent the whole time talking. Man, I've missed Ayano. I haven't gotten the chance to talk to her in forever, and she is so darn cool. I'm glad she's sticking around a bit longer.

Anyway, so I bought The Poisonwood Bible for AP English and volumes 1 and 2 of Megatokyo, which made me very happy. YAY MEGATOKYO. As Ayano commented, Fred "Piro" Gallagher is "such a fanboy," but whatever, that's just what his character is like, and it doesn't matter really because he is balanced by the wonderful insanity that is Largo. I printed off a picture of Pirogoeth or Piroko, one of my favorite characters, and I'm going to color it. Purty. I realized earlier that the relationship between the two main characters in a story I came up with in DC bears some resemblance to the one between Piroko and Largo. Actually, now that I think about it, they're not really all that similar. Meh, whatever.

Anyway, in DC, I was planning out the story as we were walking along the really long reflecting pool from the Washington Monument to the Lincoln Memorial. (I was wearing my red shirt with the collar; Eema seemed to think this was important to the story somehow.) And, very randomly, some guy walking in the opposite direction just holds up a camera (disposable, so I know he wasn't some photographer taking street pictures for a class or something, and besides, if he had been, he'd know that he needed to ask my permission, if not give me money. I know, my sister's taken photography classes, and she always asks people's permission to take street pictures, and then pays them. She took a really lovely picture of these two homeless guys once. Er, tangent much?) and takes a picture of me. Says nothing. Just- *click,* walks on. Was a little bit unnerving.

He was cancelled out, though, by the Frisbee Guy that we met on the Metro. Some guy walked onto the train spinning a Nathan frisbee on the tip of his finger. I said "frisbee!" out of instinct. So what does he do? He throws it at me. We spend the rest of the train ride (and the wait at the station when changing trains) throwing the frisbee back and forth and talking. He was from Pennsylvania, and trying to get into Georgetown Law School (where Jocelyn is). He has a friend who goes to U of M, though.

What else interesting happened? Jason made an astute observation. "Mrs. Sherrill, it has not ceased raining all day." Thank you, we didn't notice. I was a bit annoyed that he kinda GOT US LOST IN DC, but he offered to carry me if I collapsed, so, er, I'm still bitter. I was appointed a Rat Overlord by Mark, since Greg and I invented Rat Music (Squeek chitter squeek mah homie!). We ate twice at a noodle store that I will someday kidnap. Good noodles there, really good noodles. The Museum of Natural History rocked as usual. I love that place. We also saw the space section of the Air and Space Museum, which really doesn't interest me at all, but Mark liked it, and anyway, we didn't spend too much time there. Saw all the monuments twice (and ended up with incredibly sore feet). We went to Union Station at one point, and I got to go to the Au Bon Pain there and remenisce to myself. Also checked out the bookstore across from it, and discovered that Gregory MacGuire has come out with a new book, based off of A Christmas Carol. That was nice. At one point we met up with the Sherrill's old neighbors and Mrs. Sherrill's good friend. Anyway, we were driving past the Japanese-American Memorial and she asked who knew about it. I, of course, could tell her the whole story, and she remarked how nice it was to find a young person who knows her history. I just looked over at the monument and thought "thank you, Blue Iris." Also, we all rode the carousel on the Mall twice. I *heart* that carousel so much. Mrs. Sherrill rode the Suehorse-Seahorse. I have a picture of that, but it came out all blurry. I also have a picture of the Washington Monument, Shuyu asleep on the Metro, the Ghetto Bear, and Ghetto Bear + Sara. At the hotel in Pennsylvania I went swimming. Paul was being a poopyhead (to steal Eyal's word) and wouldn't come along. Actually pretty much everyone was, the only people I managed to convince were Mark and Jason. In other news, Jason cannot swim.

Really though, I spent the majority of my time getting from point A to point B, by car, on foot, or riding the Metro.

I love the Metro so much, have I mentioned? Well, aside from getting abandoned on it last time, of course (so scary!). It's just cool and... yeah. Except for Jason just randomly telling his life's story to random strangers on it. Yeah. That was a fun night, in a way- we were all drunk on comradeship and sleep-deprivation and disorientation from wandering around the huge city with no idea of how to get home. We were just saying the craziest, often stupidest stuff, and laughing hysterically at everything. Doo- doo- doooo!*

*Er, not really drunk, you understand, just crazy enough that we seemed that way. Come on, it's US. We are... yeah. Not the type to get within six feet of alcohol, ever.

Yeah, there were lots of quotes, but they're all written down in Mrs. Sherrill's mapbook... I'll ask her if I can borrow it to transcribe them.

Then Paul took me to Cedar Point. That was lots of fun, and he rode the carousel three times. I rode it lots more, of course. Mark bought an alien hat with poseable antennae, so at one point I stole it and fixed them so that they spelled out "YO". Of course, once he put it on, I realized that it only said "YO" when viewed from the back; from the front it said "OY". Er, oops. I felt like Karen, with her K in the mirror. Dragster was down for repairs, but we went on pretty much everything else, including the Demon Drop. I discovered that that thing gets no less terrifying as you get older. Yaaah. Fun, though. There were these two guys who ended up standing behind us in line twice, which was kinda weird, but whatever. Paul and I discussed ideas for Beowulf Macbeth most of the day. We came up with some really nice stuff, too. Unfortunately, filming the next day kinda didn't happen.

The next day, I ended up biking all over creation, or at least Okemos. By which I mean, nobody was home to take me to my guitar lesson, so I biked to Melody's house, strapped her guitar to my back, and she biked with me to Mark's house in Tacoma Hills. My lesson went pretty well; I learned four chords, four chord progressions, and a scale. It might not seem like a lot, but please keep in mind that I'd never so much as touched a guitar before, so we had to start out with "this is a pick. This is a fret." I'm getting pretty good at it now, I think. I hope. Er. Right. Anyway. Then I biked home at breakneck speed, trying desperately to keep ahead of the rain, because I HAD A BORROWED GUITAR STILL STRAPPED TO MY BACK. I made it, in the end; there were a few drops as I pulled into my driveway, but the actual rain held off until I was inside, just like I'd been yelling at it to do the whole ride. My neighbors looked at me kinda funny. It was really exhausting though.

So basically, what with walking all over DC and Cedar Point and all that biking, my legs are really strong now. Of course, what with not doing anything at all today and yesterday and the day before, that's all negated, but whatever.

Well, I did have a lesson on Thursday. It went... er, I'm not going to say "well," because I'd only had two days to practice. But it wasn't too terrible. Er, actually, I'm going to die. CARMEN FANTASY. YAAAAAAAAA. So much fun, but so much impossibility... argh... *dies*

Then yesterday, Caitlin and I went to see Around the World in 80 Days. I'm not so sure how it got good reviews. It was entertaining, in a way, but left no impression on me. If you actually try to *think* about it, you just end up going "gee, that was incredibly stupid." So you just have to suspend disbelief REALLY WELL. But I liked that Phileas Fogg was a coward, and that even when he was being brave, he was still completely incompetent, and anything he did that was "heroic" was pretty much just accidental or sheer luck. It's nice to have protagonists like that every so often. Also... JOHN CLEESE! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well, in conclusion, here is an animation that someone has as their avatar on the Megatokyo forums that I thought was just incredibly cute, because I'm an idiot like that and just go "moving thingy!" and am hypnotized for the next five minutes or so.
Little Green-Haired Dancing Thinger

I guess this is a bad essay, because it didn't come full circle or anything. Whatever.

Goodbye.
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I love Prokofiev’s Lt. Kije suite. It’s just really fun. I played an arranged version in ninth grade orchestra and then the real version at Interlochen that summer. Logan played the trumpet solos. Apparently, all the trumpet players that year were really hot. I couldn’t see them from where I sat, though. Just Logan. But he was an idiot. Oh, and that other trumpeter, the one who looked EXACTLY like that kid in my lit class who couldn’t read to save his life. Basically the story is something like this: the Czar reads a military report that says “...the lieutenants, however...” and misreads the word for “however” as the name of a lieutenant, Kije. He asks after this “Kije,” and since nobody wants to tell the CZAR that he made a mistake, they make up a young, brave hero. The Czar takes an almost paternal interest in Kije’s career, and the story grows- Kije falls in love, and er... goes for a sleigh ride? Or something. Anyway, the Czar decides that he really wants to meet this Lieutenant, after hearing so many good things about him. So they quickly invent a heroic death in battle for him. OH well. Good story.

Schuler’s got new seals. I was happy. Now they just need some variety in their sealing wax and everything will be fine. I also read Gregory McGuire’s Mirror Mirror, or at least the first half. Disturbing book. I don’t like it as much as I liked Wicked. I think my main problem is all this political intrigue that goes on. I can never follow it: “He’s evil, right, and so’s she, and he’s probably dead... and now he’s dying over there and nobody knows why... and ODE that’s just wrong. And you? You’re dumb! So he meets this lady, right, and has to physically stop her from killing her own son, and then he charges her to take care of his daughter whom he loves so much... yeah, um, dude, the word for that is STUPID.” That’s much of my reaction. I re-read part of TTT, too, and was all *hearts* at Sam because he glares at Faramir as if he is a young hobbit who’s been “fresh” after being caught in the garden (Faramir is, I mean). Sam is just so darn endearing. But not as much as Sara, because she is bloody endearing.

They say it’s going to snow tomorrow. That would be nice. I like the snow. I like it very much. *yawns* I’m tired, though. I got to eat Hanukkah gelt today. Eema bought only two bags; I was very annoyed. She’s supposed to buy a box. She usually does. This has not been a very good year, in terms of holidays. Oh well, whatever.

I SO do not want to go to school. Ever again. Really, I don’t. And this Macbeth essay sucks. I hate it. I will kill it and jump up and down on its pitiful remains. *hugs Franklin*

Aba has decided that he and I can sing a duet in the Collage concert. Ha. Ha ha. I don’t think he’s heard me try to sing since middle school. We sang “Mical sheli” which is a fun song, but nothing that can be sung in an auditorium. It’s a song for long car trips, like Suku or Tumbala. When you can sing songs that nobody knows the words to and that probably don’t make sense anyway and you can just wail and belt to your heart’s content and call it harmony.

Character sketches for the PPC are not going all that well. One or two are passable, I suppose, but it’s nothing that anybody’s actually going to be impressed with. What the heck, it’s cartooning. You’re not supposed to agonize over this sort of thing in cartooning. You’re supposed to go, “His mouth is bigger in this panel than his whole head was in the last panel? Yay! Now they can tell that he’s speaking!”

Hee hee. Calvin’s discussion on “high” and “low” art with Hobbes. Man, Calvin and Hobbes rocked. What does Bill Watterson do now? That guy had so much humor and stuff. He is making someone laugh until their stomach hurts somewhere, just doodling Calvin and Hobbes on napkins in restaurants or whatever.

My eyeballs feel like they’re made of milk. Grrr. *goes to sleep* I hate this stupid internet ban. I want to post this. It’s not like I can’t procrastinate without distractions. I can be distracted by a blank wall. I was last night, I just sat there and stared at a blank page in my notebook the whole time.

Goodbye.

ODE

Dec. 22nd, 2003 10:45 am
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You know that you're a geek when you're *cough* "Indian dancing" around the room using a hair dryer for a microphone and singing along to ABBA and pretending to be Tanya and you end up singing, without even realizing,

Take it easy (Take it easy)
Only look up clear
To alter favor ever is to- waitaminute...

I feel like a bit of an idiot.


And now I will proceed to actually explain, which I never seem to do...

SO basically, there's this girl (Sophie) on an island, and she's getting married to some guy named Skye. Her mother, Donna, was a singer in the sixties/seventies and moved to this random island to run this little taverna twenty years ago, when Sophie was born. Sophie is having this big white wedding, and wants her father to give her away. Problem is, she doesn't know who her father is. Donna won't talk about him. So she reads her mother's diary and discovers that, um, there are three possibilities. She just invites them all to the wedding, not telling them why. One of them is this upright British banker guy who used to be a headbanger, Harry. One is an architect dude who had left Donna to get married, and later had two sons, Eddie. The third is an Australian traveler, Bill. Sophie doesn't tell them why they're there, just... sort of... gives them keys to rooms in the taverna. In the meantime, Donna's two best friends Tanya and Rosie come for the wedding, there's a random guy named Pepper ("Why, because you're 'hot'?" "No, because he gets up your nose.") who hits on Tanya, Rosie hits on Bill, Skye and Sophie have Issues, Eddie and Harry seem to still be in love with Donna, especially Eddie, Donna has Issues in general, the guys of the island go pearl diving and do this whole dance in flippers and scuba masks (I nearly fell off my chair laughing), there are more dances with people in scuba outfits, except this time they add the female half of the cast in Toad hats (from Mario), there are Shiny costumes, and I am rooting for Bill the whole time because, come on, when in doubt, go for the guy with the accent. And Tanya mocks Pepper (a lot), and there are more shinies, Sophie gets annoying, the boat was named Waterloo and I caught it, Donna sang Fernando* under her breath to herself, Heee hee EHHEEE hee hee, hahahhaHEEha, Masters of the Sea actually had significance because of the OBVIOUSLY NOT BEEN THERE FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS pearl necklace, but hey, they were all drunk, so they couldn't tell. Then there were SHINIES and big flashy lights and noisy things, spinning light-dots, wheeee, they made poor Eema sick, yeah, dude, it was just fun and shiny.

Hmmm... unfortunately, Paul's telling me to have "sweet/epic/fun dreams" did not work. It started out okay; well, sort of. I had to save Dr. Seuss's stories from being forever washed away in a waterfall and there were geese involved, flying up the water, that was cool but really hard and scary because I didn't know if I was strong enough to fly all the way up dragging everything behind me. Then Alex (my stand partner Alex) was a knight, and I had to pretend to be his squire and dress up as a guy and everything; that was annoying because darn it, the laws of chivalry are confusing when you keep forgetting the gender of the other person. Like, we were given Safta's room to sleep in, and at first I took the bed and he took the floor because I was the lady. Then we remembered that I was pretending to be male, and his squire, so we had to switch, and stuff like that. I was really scared that Miss Kesler would say that I wasn't who I was pretending to be, but somehow she didn't seem to recognize me, and I didn't know if she knew or not. I went out of the room in the night, and my cats came walking up to me. There were five of them, two Torys and three Tessies, and they wanted to know their real names and the meanings behind them. I couldn't remember their names! It was terrible! They had to give me hints. I felt so ashamed; I couldn't remember the names of my own cats. Then I heard people coming. This was a problem, because I had taken off my disguise for the night. I just grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest and hoped they would just go on by, but they kept stopping and talking to me, and one of them was a witch. I finally managed to just stumble back into the room, but was shocked to find that one of my dogs- the Scottish Terrier- had really chewed everything up. I was furious, naturally, but you know, he's a dog, it's their nature. Then the witch came in, and I started panicking, but she said that she already knew and didn't care. I was somewhat relieved. Then she laughed and gave me an exploding dog biscuit (it looked somthing like a red fuzzy blanket, all rolled up) to give to the Scottie. I was shocked, and told her that I would never do that to my dog. She pointed out poor Subtotal, whom I hadn't even noticed was there. He'd been nearly ripped to shreds! I picked him up. Huge patches were missing; he was literally being held together by a few threads. "Okay, NOW he can have the exploding biscuit," I said threateningly, but I didn't really mean it. I hid the biscuit under the blanket that I'd been sleeping on. The witch took out black thread and was about to sew Subtotal together. I stopped her, and took out my sewing basket. But all that I could find in it was lavender thread and brightly-colored embroidery floss! Alex woke up, and he and the witch were trying to start sewing with black thread and bright green embroidery floss. I was still desperately trying to stop them and find some navy blue thread when the scene changed. I was at a fair, and it was almost time to go, when I saw a bunch of my friends (not my real-life friends, just random creations of my brain) horseback riding in a pasture. You would go in, give the man your tickets, choose a horse, and ride around for a little bit and then bring it back. As I came closer, I saw one of my friends, who was riding bareback, thrown forward onto the horse's neck. I rushed forward, certain she was hurt- her face had banged into its neck- but she fell back, suddenly in a saddle, laughing strangely. A little unnerved, I nonetheless went to the man in the entrance and told him that I had time for a short ride. He reluctantly agreed (it was almost closing time) and went into the pasture. Suddenly I noticed that there were two bloody horse-heads lying on the ground, flies swarming around them. I cried out in disgust and leapt back, but they got up, back on their bodies and perfectly healthy. The man let me into the pasture, and I got a better look at the horses. There was something strange about them; they were distorted, disproportionate, moving in ways that they shouldn't have been physically able to. Their legs were too thick, their fur too long, their heads too short, their teeth and nostrils too big. Some were tiny and others were huge. I went forward and greeted one, breathing into his nostrils. Another, a blackish-blue one, came up and breathed into my face as well. They all pressed in close around me, until I could hardly move for the warm bodies. I was not scared. I thought of the book Born to Run, where one of the characters is frightened by the inquisitive horses around her. I was proud of myself that I wasn't, no matter how strange these horses seemed. Suddenly the two in front of me threw their heads back.
"Well?" Asked one of the horses behind me. "Is she friendly?"
"No," said the brown mare to my left with a gleeful snort, baring her enormous teeth. "She's a tasty fly!"
"With wormy fingers!" added another.
"Not wormy!" I managed to say, and held up my left hand for proof. To my horror, it shriveled before my eyes, shrinking and becoming disgustingly deformed. It was tiny, about two inches long. The thumb was now longer than any of the other fingers, but thin as yarn, shriveled and wrinkled as a prune, curving dramatically over away from my hand, shaped like one of their nostrils. My other fingers were tiny, each an inch long, just as thin as the thumb but without the look of being "dry-" they were still fat-looking, like little worms. The first thought that flitted through my head was that I could never again play violin. The second horrid speculation was that the rest of me would soon shrink like my hand had done, I would become a fly and the horses would eat me-

I woke up screaming hoarsely, and curled up into a fetal position with my hands over my head in some sort of attempt to protect myself from the huge, horrible creatures. Not fun. *shudders*

I hope that it doesn't mean I'm scared of horses now. Eyal, Ada, interpret it if you'd like.


*Fernando holds a lot of special significance for me. When I was very young, Lynn Bartley took me to a zoo or a park or something, and along the way we listened to ABBA. It was the first time I'd heard them, and I instantly fell in love with the song Fernando. We listened to it over and over again, until we could sing it perfectly. Since that day, until yesterday, I'd never heard it. But I knew it the instant I did; I'd never forgotten that I had heard it, or how much I had loved it. That song rules this earth.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
Josh Groban CD, from Paul
RotK CD, from Eyal
Seed pearl necklace, from Eema
Sixteenth porcelain doll, from Eema
Tickets to Macbeth at Stratford, from Eema and Aba
Gift certificate to Schulers, from Eema and Aba
Check for $25, from Barbara and Gerry
Pretty fuzzy sweatshirt, from Barbara and Gerry
Monstrous Regiment, from Eema
Phone calls from Tamar and Mical
Phone call from the Bartleys
Lovely card from Melody
And many happy birthday wishes.

Thanks everybody!

Now I'm off for ice cream! Bye, all.

Goodbye.
silentstep: the text "Team Hilarity" on a blue background, with sparkles (Default)
But I had wonderful dreams! About an orca, and I could breathe underwater so I stood on the bottom of the ocean and watched him, and then I swam with him. I was the adopted daughter of this random family, and I had an older brother and a slightly younger sister. There was... green grass in the backyard, and she was upset and there were two others, in the room with the shelf and my brother had a random black T-shirt, I watched my thoughts and it was so cool and so breathtaking and so much fun. The way... everything... it was just beautiful. And then there was Julia, being carnivorous and eating the little fuzzy things come to life, and the ones I saved, they were so small, and somehow Petz got mixed up in it and the pig had piglets, but did not eat her nine farrow.

I saw Macbeth again last night, and was SO glad I went. For one thing, I caught and understood and was able to reflect on so much more, not least because I was sitting in the middle of row B so I could actually see what was going on. Also, I was able to suspend previous feelings about the characters this time, so I didn't have a hard time sympathizing with Macduff because he wasn't good in real life and stuff, or with Banquo because he never existed. Lady Macduff's acting still left something to be desired, in my opinion, but everyone else was very good. Also? I just liked the play a lot more the second time. *shrugs*

And I want to take some acting classes. When I was really little I was considered very good for my age, but as I got older I never really got any better. So now I can't really act. But maybe I can get better... I always wanted to be an actress when I was little, but gave it up later as impractical.

SO now I get to go do all the homework in the world. That sucks. A lot. I don't want to do anything. I'd rather go back to sleep and dream some more.

Goodbye.

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