Pezilla's Lair

So...

softstepshoes — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 02:16:05 GMT

Yeah. For some reason, whenever conversation lags these days, I start making up random questions. And I'm discovering that the answers can actually be quite amusing and frighteningly in character. So. If you're really bored...

1. If you had 500 basketballs, what would you do with them?
Sample answers:
Shoot them all. And when I was through, shoot them all again. (Devon. Er...surprise?)
Figure out some way to get them bouncing all at once. Even if it was really really loud. (Kera, who could undoubtedly figure out some way to do it)

2. If there were giraffes on Camelback mountain, would they be upside down? (This one, of course, was inspired by Payson. Answers thus far have been yes, no, and...what?)

3. If you could be one of the Disney princesses, which one would you be?

4. What is the thing you are most afraid of in the entire world?
Surprisingly, only one person so far has answered death--early death, in that case.

5. What is your love paradigm? Or favorite love story?
I think I asked the Pezzers this in Scotland. It's inspired some very random answers, unsurprisingly.

And, of course, the no-brainer: Has Chandra been spending too much time with people under the age of seven? Yeeeeees, why do you ask?

Happy Saint Patrick's Day, all! Well, tomorrow!

Peziversary!

softstepshoes — Wed, 14 Feb 2007 12:13:05 GMT

Happy Peziversary, all and sundry and adopted etc! In honor of not celebrating Valentine's day with paper hearts and chalk-dust candy, I decided to...post at four in the morning? Yes. In any event, watch some Muppets for old times' sake (all of...a year ago. Meh, Kenyon, meh) and go find a furry Valentine (Jack is my current choice, as Gator will only cooperate if there are carrots involved. And he's kind of soggy 'cause it's decided to rain here a lot).

Hugs all around.

Happy New Year to all

softstepshoes — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 19:03:45 GMT

And to all a good...um...day? Year? Bye bye 2006 with all of your compses and honors and graduations and Kenyon. Meh. You know you've been the class of a particular year when you haven't bothered to look past it until 2007 was on you. Ah well.

In other complete randomness, if any of you midwesterners or east coast types are wondering where your winter went, I can tell you: Colorado. And not even the part of Colorado that wants a bunch of snow, like Vail or Beaver Creek. Nope, socking Denver in so that the Starbucks in said Beaver Creek cannot make twenty-five of their drinks because all of the ingredients are stuck somewhere on a highway. Darn. Will just have to send Dad to the one next door.

Hope 2007 treats everyone well :)

Um...

softstepshoes — Wed, 13 Sep 2006 04:42:34 GMT

I've decided that this day just wants to be sketchy. First both Devon and I sleep through our alarms, which isn't sketchy, but is annoying. Then I get lost downtown in the sketchiest neighborhood ever looking for a potential dance class that I'm definitely NOT looking for anymore. THEN I go on craig'slist and discover the usual (need thirty million years of experience, located way the heck out in the middle of nowhere, oooh that sounds nice but...) and then this:

Surrogate Wife

I am looking for a person that can help me with my home and 4 year-old son (single father). The largest part of the job is cleaninig and errands (shopping, dry cleaners, cars, pharmacy, etc.) My son needs to be driven to and from school and to other activities (i.e. Amazing Jakes) Cooking some meals. Ability to travel world-wide a plus, but not required. We have been on 12 trips this year alone. Need to have reliable car and full coverage insurance. Mileage reimbursed. Good sense of humor, honesty necessary. Applicant must feel comfortable in a large home as well as the finer hotels and restaurants.

Can you say...desperate? And horribly disturbing? Ah well. No offense, Phoenix, but you frighten me.

Did find a nice one-night belly dancing job, though, Sophie. What are you doing in China, anyway? I mean really :)

GAHHHHHHH!

Rest in Peace

softstepshoes — Sun, 03 Sep 2006 17:34:18 GMT

Sam

softstepshoes — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 06:22:13 GMT

We're off to climb a mountain! A giant big mountain in Africa...

I feel vaguely as though I'm in Muppet Treasure Island and should be singing "Sailing for Adventure." Perhaps with a fruit hat on my head. Oh, wait, that was "Cabin Fever," which we'll probably have after spending three bajillion hours on a plane in one another's company. This should be interesting.

I'll be attempting to send postcards to those people whose addresses I have...if I don't (coughSarahandKatecough)...um...I can't seem to locate my directory, but if you post before 7 am my time tomorrow...yay! Several million postcards later...

And now, before the malaria medicine really goes to my head, I'm going to sleep.

softstepshoes — Thu, 13 Jul 2006 22:33:56 GMT

A heat advisory, horrific pollution, and not one but three serial killer/murderer/rapist types running around Phoenix within 5 and 30 minutes of our house (and, consequently, almost exactly where Sophie lives and we go to get gas). I think it's about time to leave the country for Africa. Which we'll be doing Sunday.

In good news, it's Devon's birthday today. I think we'll have a Smash-a-thon. Muahahaha.

softstepshoes — Fri, 07 Jul 2006 17:05:43 GMT

Go see Pirates. Now. Don't go to work, don't go job hunting, go to your nearest movie theater and watch Johnny Depp waltz around with a jar of dirt.

No, seriously, it's awesome. Definitely a middle movie, and heavily dependent on in-jokes in terms of dialogue, but brilliant technically and....Johnny Depp. I mean really.

And on that happy note, I need to go pretend I didn't stay up 'til three in the morning to see it. Yay for not having to drive into Columbus to see a midnight showing!

Hello, POTO

softstepshoes — Wed, 05 Jul 2006 18:37:11 GMT

So, I had this brilliant idea. For Kera's graduation gift, I'd take her to see the newly installed production of Phantom in Vegas. 'cause, you know, I sort of like the show, Kera's my at-home theatre buddy, and sheesh, it'd been a total of, oh, I don't know, six months maybe, since I'd last seen it. What actually ended up happening was that the whole family went along to experience the magical tackiness that is Vegas, and we all saw the show at the Venetian (which, I might add, with the advent of the musical, has turned into Phantomland...walk into the elevator, and you hear "Masquerade," walk into the lobby and you hear "All I Ask of You," walk into the casino(s) and you hear Michael Crawford's valient attempts to sing "Wandering Child" over the ching and bling of it all. I was rather fond of that hotel).

Of course, being Vegas, the show was a little bit different. 95 minutes no intermission for one thing. Staged in this ginormously expensive theatre that had been tailor-built for it for another. Properly named "the Las Vegas Spectacular" for a third. Man, if the critics thought that the original production was too heavily spectacle-oriented, they've probably all torn their hair out by the roots and stabbed their eyes with casino chips after seeing this one. Some of it was kind of awesome. To begin with, the chandelier was, literally, in pieces for the auction scene, and while I do rather prefer the traditional rip-the-cover-off-and-start-crying-as-the-chandelier-rises, the whole ghostly floaty swirly before assemblage bit was kind of awesome—just pieces whirling about seemingly in midair before coming to their senses and rising to the mondo-dome. Having it come down again was also pretty awesome, mostly because it didn't go a millimeter an hour like in London/Cinncinnati/New York. Instead: a hitch, a jolt, and hello audience members—straight down, as though it really were falling. And then they kind of ruined it by not dimming the lights fast enough to avoid seeing it shoot straight back up and through the dome. Oh well.

But there were definitely other bits of shiny: the giant replica of the Garnier that put itself together right before "Masquerade"; the nifty onstage fireworks that kind of ended up being our Fourth of July since it was raining in Colorado; the really sweet "full-theatre" effect during "Think of Me" and "Point of No Return" (plus the super-set from Don Juan Triumphant) that they managed by dimly lighting the orchestra and "audience" portion of the actual theatre (both side panels running alongside the floor seats were filled with "boxes" and their dummy inhabitants, which was pretty cool...especially because it meant the entire theatre instead of just the proscenium was draped with those gray swoopy sheets at the beginning); and the fantastic lighting for the Phantom's entrance during "Masquerade" (which you will see properly some day, Ellen) that had him looking rather startlingly demonic. They hadn't upgraded the Phantom's fire-stick to Saruman levels, alas, though they did set the stage on fire for a bit after "Wandering Child," which was amusing. Thankfully intentional.

And then there was the cracktastic part. Or, parts, rather. Like the Phantom hanging out of the chandelier while taunting Carlotta during Il Muto. I...um...meh? And then hanging off the side of the theatre while taunting Raoul and his little gun person. Oh, oh, and then there was the lasso replacement during the Final Lair. Now, normally, as most of you know, Raouls get caught in the lasso, lounge about a little bit, and get released, all the while looking properly woeful and bedraggled and slightly shirtless. Except in Vegas. In Vegas, Raoul gets trapped in a metal cage, from which knives are summarily summoned with a metallic twang, with the whole contraption subsequently suspended in midair. Kind of like a floating chokey from Matilda. Um, no. Just about all of the people who might be reading this have gone with me to see Phantom and know that I get a little teary and stuff from about "Point of No Return" on. Haha. Yeah. When that metal box came out, I laughed. Just couldn't help it. It was probably the most ridiculous theatrical feat I've ever seen in my life. I...just, yeah. The sound effects really didn't help at all either. But then the music started again, and the Phantom was caught holding a sheet of his music and trying to read it, offer it, and keep from losing what little sanity he had left, and I started crying again and didn't stop until I was out of the theatre and couldn't hear the music anymore. Devon thought I was absolutely insane.

The Final Lair was probably the saving grace, in any event, primarily because nothing was cut or added, except the Cage of Ridiculous. The rest of the show, though, was a reprise of POTO a la Pez: "skippy skippy skippy skippy." I know that Vegas has a short attention span, but really. I mean, some of the cuts were great—tailoring and tightening, omitting Joseph Buquet's little "hey, I have a part in this show, dude!" scene, cutting lines here and there. But, really, you don't need to slash half of "Stranger than You Dreamt It," which is super-short and lovely anyway. And there's no reason to skimp on the transition from "Notes" to "Wishing," particularly if it means rushing a very well-crafted moment. And please, for the love of cheese, DON'T CUT HALF OF POINT OF NO RETURN! Hello, turning point! And what's up with the Phantom shouting "Bring down the chandelier!" at the end of PONR anyway?

Bah. Yeah. What wasn't carefully tightened was completely butchered, especially in Act II, to the point that some of the scenes barely made sense: Madame Giry's little, "Don't ask me, don't ask me! Okay, but I'll rush through my confession and make it completely random!", the Phantom's extremely truncated "Seal My Fate," which came out of nowhere; "Notes II" with about half of the characters and no office whatsoever (I don't think Andre even had time for a costume change, because he came out all skeletonic and stuff while everyone else was in proper dress). I think a lot of the trouble was that they were still working bugs out of their system, in terms of both technical junk and character comprehension—they didn't quite manage to get all of the drapes off during the overture (a stage hand was attempting to work surreptitiously at an irasible bit of cloth for most of the Hannibal rehearsal), the Phantom missed his entrance for "Flattering child" ("Child! You shall know me!"), and a lot of the timing, apart from cuts, seemed to be a bit off, mostly in the rushing department. And while the actors could carry it for the most part—Christine was very strong vocally and characterwise, even aggressive (she nearly took the Phantom out going in for the Final Lair kiss), the Phantom knew the part and had the voice for it (hasn't been with the character long though, I don't think, as he didn't seem to go much past Hal Prince stage direction into character, and his voice was a little punchy and rough for my taste...spoiled by JOJ!), Raoul'd come off of Broadway and managed to pull off an almost 3-D knight in shining armor—I'm hoping they'll stop long enough to smooth things out and realize that, oh wait, this can be an actual show, not just a Vegas spectacular that cuts all the subtlety out of everything (Phantom is subtle, I swear, I wrote a whole section of my thesis about it. Bah).

It was good to have seen it, though, and even Devon enjoyed it (though he still wanted to see the chandelier come down and crash for real). And the moments they got it right were fantastic—when Christine sings "Yet in his eyes," and is looking straight through Raoul, connecting and comparing, as opposed to going off in a daze; the overture; the Final Lair, with the music offering and the trembling kiss and the "I love you"; the Phantom's "Now you see me, now you don't" during curtain call. It's still Phantom in any event, and that's the best for it. But once you've been to a show that's "rocked your soul," as Mom put it, it's difficult to not be a little biased. A spectacular learning experience, in any event. Yes. Maybe I should go back to England and see some more learning experiences. In the West End. 'cause I'm still writing my thesis. Of course. And maybe I should take certain people with me. Because I need help taking notes...

And on that horribly rambly note, I think I'm going to go clean the dog hair off of my keyboard. Mmm, wet dog.

Current Book: Just finished Howl's Moving Castle, which was kind of awesome. A little loose stylistically in terms of repetition and control, but overall intensely amusing and well-developed. And there's supposed to be a movie out somewhere. Hmmmmm.... And speaking of movies...Pirates! Soon! Yay!!

Sniff

softstepshoes — Thu, 08 Jun 2006 00:55:50 GMT

Just watched the Who that appeared in my Ellen package disguised as Chocolat. Very nice to finally see the second bit of the first parter that we watched...before graduation...though I didn't have anyone to laugh at "the Idiot's" "that was the Doctor, in the Tardis, with Rose." Or however that horrible line went. Sounds like something out of Clue: Rose in the Tardis, with the Doctor. Ooof. And that just sounded wrong. NEXT!

In other random news, I finally picked up the jury duty I was supposed to do in December. They really need to pad the seats in court.

And now it's raining. And gorgeous. And not duststorming and a hundred and seven like yesterday. And a scorpion just about ran over my foot when I went outside to look at it. Ah, Phoenix.

Moo

softstepshoes — Tue, 30 May 2006 18:15:42 GMT

Home again, home again (finally), and here're the cross-country tallies...

OHIO
Rainiest. Also hardest to leave. Though I still managed to get lost in Mt Vernon one final time. 's about on par for the year.

IOWA
Calmest. At least weatherwise. Grinnellians, on the other hand, know how to party :) Quietly.
Lowest gas price ($2.47. Unlike the whopping $3.24 the Petrified Forest gas station tried to charge us and the lovely $3.07 that seems to be Phoenix's norm)

NEBRASKA
Buggiest. Ever. Also lots of cows. Ellen, I told them you say "moo."
Neatest little downtown (Lincoln), though a little small for the capital city.

COLORADO
Most policemen--as in, the entire state patrol seemed to be out for Memorial day weekend, complete with the "Click it or ticket" signs and DUI warnings. We totally didn't get pulled over, though. Boo-yah.
Insane streets of doom. Hasn't changed. Still hard to find my way around, and I lived there for a summer. Lovely mountains as well. I've missed the Rockies, and the day we drove through was slightly cloudy and cool; I wish we'd had time to stop and drive up Pike's Peak.

NEW MEXICO
Vying with AZ for desert prettyness factor. Probably the smoothest route, as we made excellent time. I love gaining hours as you go.

ARIZONA
HOME! After a stop at the Painted Desert and Petrified Forest. I'd never been to either of 'em, but Sophie thought we should stop, and they turned out to be gorgeous. An unusual kind of gorgeous, as they're definitely desert as opposed to Midwestern greenery or CO height, but gorgeous nonetheless. I learned how to use the camera on my phone and now have pictures. Whether I can get them to any useful area on my computer may be another matter entirely. Payson was also very pretty, mountainous and tree-happy. And cool. Still pretty cool at home, too, which is nice, but may not last very long...

So anyway. Hope everyone's job searches are going well. Must do that myself.

On another random note, I watched Producers last night with my family...very fun, though it wasn't the same. Meh. SSSSSSSSS. S.

softstepshoes — Fri, 28 Apr 2006 18:55:02 GMT

Dear Gilbert:

Thank you for trying to help me write my exam. Unfortunately, I don't think that the outsider examiners accept "cat" as an appropriately English majory language. Especially as "cat" involved mostly fours, some random letter, and space bar. And much sitting on poor Persephone.

C

In other news, Gilbert has obviously never seen a printer before in his life. He seems to have thought it an intriguing but somewhat frightening sort of bird. I have a video. Muahaha.

And now...urrgh.

softstepshoes — Fri, 28 Apr 2006 02:32:21 GMT

Swiped from Sophie, 'cause my head hurts from banging it against the exam questions...

1. Something purple within 5 feet of you?
Hmm. Becca?

2. The sexiest item of clothing you own?
Ha. Haha.

3. Your nails were last painted:
Probably by six year olds, and several different colors to each finger.

4. The weirdest thing you've ever heated in the microwave?
A peep. It carmelized.

5. How much Japanese do you know?
Approximately none. I could sing about death and destruction in both Latin and German, though, if you'd like.

6. Do you look good in yellow?
Decent. Kind of like a daffodil gone neurotic.

7. Do you sing?
I'm getting better at it!

8. Ever danced naked in front of a crowd?
....see 2

10. Do you have a nice cell phone?
It works!

11. Least favorite color?
Eh.

12. Ever had Dippin' Dots?
Nope.

13. Ever played an instrument?
Cello and piano. Unfortunately, I now know a total of one song on the latter and haven't touched the former since sixth grade.

14. Ever had an H2O mass?
Huh?

15. Do you believe in Big Foot?
I'd take Nessy any day.

16. Ever been to a palm reader?
Does my mom count?

17. Last Pez dispenser you had?
Hmmmm....um...meh?

18. Had sex in your current car?
No. I don't think it would like that very much. I don't think I would like that very much.

19. Did you have a good weekend?
That was a long time ago.

20. Do you have a best friend?
Yes.

21. Do you go tanning?
Heck no. I freckle.

22. How is today going for you?
EEEEK!

23. Any plans for tonight?
Preparing for the second half of Exam o' Doom.

24. Have you ever had stitches?
Yup. Forehead and cheek.

26. If you could be anywhere right now where would you be?
Ask me that on Sunday.

27. Do you find yourself sexy?
Please don't ask me that again.

28. Current disappointment?
I'm kind of too frazzled to be disappointed at this point.

29. Do you have an air freshener in your car?
Does Humane Society and horsiness count?

30. Do you have plants in your room?
My roomie's little repotted plant. And some fake flowers. And some dried flowers from last semester that I should probably get rid of.

31. If you could drink anything right this second, what would it be?
Water.

32. Last piece of mail opened?
Stuff for Killy.

33. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
My brain.

34. What city was your last taxi cab ride in?
New York. The driver surlied at us.

36. If someone you hated died, would you laugh and spit on their grave?
No.

37. What do you want people to remember about you when you die?
That I loved them. A whole lot.

38. What were you doing at 9 PM last night?
Singing about eternal light and other random happy things a la Lauridsen.

39. What is your favorite drink at Starbucks?
Ew.

40. Steak or ham?
Ham.

41. Ever turn someone's kiss down?
I'd kind of have to have offers to turn down, but thanks for playing.

42. Would you give your bf/gf a second chance if they cheated on you?
No. What a horrible question to end something on!

softstepshoes — Tue, 24 Jan 2006 20:17:22 GMT

Sergei's definition of a sonnet: "A medieval torture box in which to cram one's imagination. Currently an arbitrary form with which to torment students."

This during the same conversation that involved Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Prince Harry as a Phantom nerd.

So far, this class rocks.

softstepshoes — Sun, 01 Jan 2006 04:57:01 GMT

So, it occurred to me halfway through seeing Phantom for the tenth time—this show has a supremely bizarre premise. That didn't take fourteen years or anything.

In much the same manner, it occurred to me three days into our trip to Colorado and mumblemumble years since I started skiing that strapping plastic and metal onto one's feet to spend six plus hours on a cold mountain at high altitude sliding down said mountain at high speeds is probably the least logical way to spend a winter vacation. Especially when skiing with Dad, who's been doing it for longer than I've been alive and tends to enjoy the steepest, bumpiest, most heavily powdered areas at a hundred miles an hour (e.g. black diamond "Look Ma," as in "Look, Ma, a 45 degree angle" or "Look, Ma, I think I'll give you a heart attack"). And just for the record: powder and bumps are what I've had least practice at...and powder and bumps are what we spent almost the entire time on, 'cause Colorado was having its heaviest snowfall in something like forever. It made for some soft falls, though, and it was beautiful; pictures sometime, or perhaps as long as our internet holds out. That said, however illogical the sport may be, it is a heck of a lot of fun, especially skiing with Dad, Kera, and Devon. Though the next time I have the inclination to ski off a cliff, someone should perhaps try to knock some sense in me. As it was, Dad decided it was a brilliant idea and went first, to the mixed commentary of those on the lift above us and the consternation of Kera and Devon, who wisely chose to ski/board elsewhere. It was only a little cliff. Though perhaps aptly dubbed the "Cliffs of Insanity" (credit to PB). Someday when I'm old and rich and have a place in Vail I'm dragging everyone I can possibly convince to come out and hit the heights. Muahaha. Just as soon as we buy that cottage in Ireland and a house in Dawlish and orchestrate unlimited access to the West End and Europe. Yes. Let me dream.

And speaking of Vail and insanity and big pricey dreams, I can't think of anywhere else outside the major cities of this and other countries where I could sit down next to an 11-year-old boarder and discover that he was from Mexico City, previously London, and had just "picked up" boarding the week before. Even the equipment was multinational (Swiss, German, French, American skis, Italian boots...?) And Vail is perhaps the only place where I suddenly feel shabby, patchwork, and proud of it when the uber-wealthy break out their furs and designer ski outfits and super-skis of wonder to sashay down the mountain with hair flying from beneath poofy can't-possibly-be-warm headwear. We stuck to whatever we had that wasn't particularly useful in Arizona and had been sitting in the closet since the year before, most of which didn't match. And rentals. Though even so I'm sure the bills were something to see. Why is it that I seem to be attracted to the expensive sports? And schools?

Oh, and I finally figured out why Ohio winters have me completely baffled. Not only does Phoenix not get snow (the only time I've ever seen snow here was something like five years ago, and it melted before it hit the ground), but what experience I have had with winters consisted of Colorado's warmish, heavily snowy, and sun-that-actually-makes-it-to-the-bones variety instead of Ohio's "I think I'll be ten degrees and shiny today thank you very much." Then again, Ohio does not try to pass off a spring storm in the dead of winter...one of the days the Beaver Creek lifts were closed up top because of 60mph winds and a freak thunder/lightning/snow storm. Congratulations, Colorado, you're psychotic (Colorado was also the state that tried to attack Sophie and me at the New Mexico border...hail, lightning, and visibility that was approximately nil. For some reason I decided that it was a good idea to keep driving until we were out of it—valid, as it turned out, but of same type of logic that made me decide "Oh, I have a headache and I'm dizzy and I need to get to the bottom of the mountain...I know, I'll ski some blacks!" It was faster).

In any event, we're home and not planning on tipping over snowy hills until I get back to Kenyon and go sledding at the BFEC. Hope everyone's enjoying the almost New Year. At the moment I'm rather inclined to enjoy the last of 2005 because tomorrow means catching up on all the stuff I've been unable or haven't wanted to do, moving out for about a week while our house is in the final stages of getting torn apart (remind me why we made the conscious choice to do this?), and attacking the comps reading before it attacks me. So a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

P.S. Sarah, your Christmas card=awesome. Thank you. And I even remembered enough Spanish to translate, though your handwriting makes me happy.

P.P.S. Good luck to the crazy people going out to NY for interviews! See lots of shows for me! Or something! Keep out of trouble on New Years!

Current Music: Phantasia. Beautiful orchestral setting of selections from Phantom, rather like listening to a dream one of the characters is having. Shhh, I totally didn't buy it. No, really. Or Phantom in German. Producers has been in my head a good deal, too...I think I'm going to have to borrow the CD from Dad....and find out where the heck it's playing in Ohio (oh Ellennnnnnnnn...and anybody else who needs more random musicals in her life...)

Current Randomness : Ummm...can't really think of much that isn't random at the moment. Perhaps the pups, who are currently lying on my floor, probably dreaming about rubber chickens. Jack has (I think) five total at the moment, though I'm not sure how many of them actually still squeak. And he gets so sad when he finally discovers that the chicken can no longer communicate with him. Oh, and a random note on randomness—must get ahold of Muppet Wizard of Oz for the flat. Not nearly as good as Treasure Island or even Muppets from Space, but it does have a good deal of Pepe the King Prawn, and that kind of makes up for everything (e.g. during the middle of one of those feel-good songs where the various characters are expounding on how they're brainless/heartless/courageless but it doesn't matter when they're with Dorothy, Toto [aka Pepe] comes gliding across the camera with "I'm so sexyyyyyyyyy" Yeah. Muppets).

Sunday can't come fast enough...

softstepshoes — Wed, 14 Dec 2005 14:18:30 GMT

Me: Hey, Ellen, Ellen, guess what we're doing on Sunday?
Ellen: *rolls eyes, hand to face, and tallies one more of the million times I've asked her*

Me: Hey, Kate, guess what we're doing on Sunday?
Kate: *does excited happy dance*

Me: Hey, Sarah, guess what we're doing on Sunday?
Sarah: Zzzzzzzzz...

It's nice to have something to look forward to, 'cause yeah, papers of doom. Good luck to everyone on finals etc.!

Dundundundundunnnnnnnn...

P.S. Sarah, I'm sending your Rachmaninoff book with Whitney today. Don't let her car eat it.

Quotes of the Day

softstepshoes — Sun, 16 Oct 2005 19:10:19 GMT

By Ellen:
-attempting to talk about re-buying a hoody off Homestarrunner: "Troggy Hoodor!"
-on hoodies, "It's a me cozy!"
-making me choke on candy corn while trying to play Smash Bros. "I am le meh!"

By Whitney:
-heaving her backpack onto her bed: "Ahh! Knowledge is heavy!"

By Becca:
-"Orlando Blooooooooooooom!"
Yes. Thank you for hauling us to the movies. Much wonder and amusement. Kind of want to go see it again...eventually...

By culpeppers and Kate
Um...wow. That was Friday. Some awesome quotage that I can't retain for two days. Insert scary Sarah noise and Kate Honors laser of doom!

And on that not-posted-since-Exeter note, back to work. Muaaaaaaaa....*insert Cheat noise*

Discovery

softstepshoes — Fri, 04 Mar 2005 19:19:19 GMT

After spending several hours in the library researching for the Hollywood Heroines online exhibition and Satire essay, part of which involved getting slightly lost in the underground bit of the old library where they've relegated the books on American music, I discovered something that validated the entirety of the University library's deficiencies: a copy of a theatre magazine that contained some of the original reviews of Phantom when it came out in 1986. Some of them sound vaguely like a diluted version of Mack ("a real load of old hokum"), others rave, still others manage to misinterpret various scenes, but wow...blast from the past and actual reactions from non-phans and non Webber bashers. Shhh. It makes me happy. Now if only I could find articles on the musicals I'm actually supposed to be doing my papers on. Blah. Does it bother anybody else that people still refuse to take musicals at all seriously?

On other notes...spring break's finally all planned and charted, which should make Bowman happy. I've no idea how it's going to go off flying into, out of, and through various foreign countries by myself when I don't speak either language, but I'm thoroughly excited about it. Especially France. Yay for literary tours and shiny historical stuff! A little closer to home, too—Becca, Ellen, and I are heading up to Glastonbury tomorrow for a couple hours of Arthurness and trekking up hills. Somewhat like we did last week when we took the fifteen minute train ride out to Dawlish for Becca's birthday and spent most of the day chasing black swans, edging out into the ocean, and traipsing up various gorgeous cliff-hills that had Jane Austen written all over them. Well, at least by the over-Austenized Ellen, though I can't say I'm not to blame as well. Oh, and trespassing in some cases (Whitney and I need to work on our invisibility. Or at least inconspicuous lurking skills. We only wanted to see over to the rock formation on the other side of the cliff!).

However...at the moment I should be scowling at Bonfire of the Vanities, a rather intimidating tome of a book assigned by the ever beloved Mack, who still hasn't taught us what we're supposed to be looking for as satire. The point of the class is...? Excuses to write about musicals. I'm just crossing my fingers not to be shot down miserably. Sigh.

Current Book: Romance of the Forest, a rather amusing Gothic I'm attempting to plow through to see what half of these avant garde types we're studying are making fun of. Or Austen, for that matter, though this semester she's counting as "avant-garde" because she's on our comps list. Still, I should start to keep a tally a la Mack drinking game as to how many times the heroine bursts into tears, or has to tell flashback stories of her persecutions, or...

Current Music: "He Lives in You"—The Lion King. Must go see. Somewhere other than the nosebleed, neck craning rear of the balcony.

Current Randomness: In a surprise move from Ellen, I've been gifted with Nelsonlets—cutest little pepper plant sprigs that are at the moment attempting to spring up toward the desk light. Only problem is, I keep seeing the label of the jar they're in and thinking "Mmmm, Nutella...that would be nice to put on my...wait..." Oh, and in a completely different arena...well, except for the part where I swiped Ellen's computer to look it all up...Gerard Butler's in a new movie that looks really cute...and he looks really cute...and at least Ellen and I need to go see it: Dear Frankie, about a little deaf boy whose mother sends him letters from his "father" (still not sure what his story is) the merchant sailor, then has to quick pull in a stranger to stand as said father. Enter Gerard Butler without long hair or mask, and speaking in his own accent. If only it came out here before May 21st.

I'm probably not the first to say it...

softstepshoes — Sat, 26 Feb 2005 00:52:40 GMT

But happy birthday Becca! It's technically tomorrow, so since I'm up on various party machinations/booking buzz/Smash Brothers whirligig I figured I'd throw it out. 21! Muahaha. And now off to plot some more...maybe have a chat with the weather and see if it'll hold off on precipitation for a day so we can go bother Dawlish...

Frosty February

softstepshoes — Wed, 23 Feb 2005 10:09:13 GMT

All right, who ordered the snow? Fess up, now, someone must've been missing certain colder countries. The Lafrowda quad now has a nice frosting, and the birds are thoroughly confused. Heck, I'm thoroughly confused. This is Southern England, not Ohio! Ah, well, I had rather missed snowfall this year. Besides, taking pictures out my window is much more amusing than reading film criticism.

Double Take

softstepshoes — Tue, 22 Feb 2005 12:02:58 GMT

It snowed this morning. Just after I'd told Dad, "Yeah, well, snow was predicted this weekend but England never really gets it." Right. Of course, it wasn't much more than some flighty flurries, but to see the grass speckled and the seagulls wafting about in it with a rather bemused sort of wing clip was quite interesting. Made for a cold walk up to Queens, though.

Mack's class—highly entertaining though rather mellow, for him. Most of it was spent discussing the reasons for laughter and the necessity/value of dissecting humor mechanisms, the rest watching old Looney Toons. Probably the best part was "The Scarlet Pumpernickel," a take off on the ever beloved Scarlet Pimpernel movies and books (though mention of the Leslie Howard got a blank stare. Still need to watch that, I think), starring Daffy Duck as Sir Percy, Sylvester the cat as Chauvelin (?), and Porky the Pig as the Lord Chamberlain (Prince of Wales? Not sure. Sort of had the warped fairy tale thing going on as well). Naturally a bit of a poke at the weaknesses of the versions, particularly Marguerite, "Melissa," who was enacted by what Mack informed us was a cross dressed version of Daffy Duck tending to weeping and getting locked in towers. Still, very amusing in an "I know you're not really taking apart the story except in a lovable, absurd manner." I wonder if they have one for Phantom. Mack actually brought that particular story up as well in a non-aggressive manner, probably because he was referring to the book version rather than Lloyd Webber—something about how mediocre literature was turned into something great by Hollywood. Also ran a curious comment by us about how our generation (he speaks a lot in the you v me context, particularly generationally) was growing up in an environment where most of the originals were being forgotten and all we had were references and parodies of references. Avenue Q and Wicked immediately came to mind, though they are somewhat closer to home and make of themselves something original, so can't be called full parodies—Shrek 2 maybe more so. I rather tend to agree with the statement in general, and while a lot of the original stuff seems slightly ridiculous in the current context, I do take issue with people who immediately condemn attempted originality or non-parodic stuff as sentimental/melodramatic etc etc etc. Hey, you've gotta start somewhere.

Which is actually why the Hollywood Heroines class is turning out to be interesting; I'm not particularly fond of the professor, who tends to assume that all of us have taken film classes before (even though she knows at least five of us who haven't) and know exactly what she's talking about, but the films themselves give a lot of insight into the early workings of Hollywood cinema. Even if they do tend to be a bit typecast in themselves. Today's screening is Blonde Venus, which I've never heard of, something about the fallen woman cycle. Should be interesting. Probably means I should go read some more film commentary and finish up Jean Brodie. Meh.

Current Music: Had the "Dig, dig, dig" song from Snow White stuck in my head this morning. Then "Poor Parson." Again. "Mahna Mahna" came up on the top 25 playlist when I was walking down to town yesterday and has also stuck. Doo doooo doo doo doo. Muah.

Current Book: Trying to finish up Macbeth, but it's just difficult to read tragedy over meals.

Current Nonsense: 4 screenings this week. How did I end up with four screenings? I only ever watch this much silver screen when I'm at home over break, catching up on all the movies I missed. Speaking of which...Phantom out on May 3rd! Bwahahaha! Extras!! Okay, no, nobody has to watch it with me. But yay!

Part II: London

softstepshoes — Tue, 22 Feb 2005 00:19:37 GMT

Glasgow on hold yet again. Must say that traveling does the strangest things to my eating and sleeping habits. I've either managed two or five meals today, what with the belated shopping (mmmm, Tesco pancakes) and Judy Garland showcase that ate up lunchtime before seminar. Ugh. No more pasta or rice cakes for me. Normalcy begins tomorrow. And no more two hour naps that have me dreaming about Gator and a very skewed Serendipity stables. Since when does Nancy have a sloping hilltop backyard and Gator a penchant for wandering into the tack room to chew on saddles anyway? I think dreams are even more creepy during the day. Anyway.

Back again, back again, this time with surprisingly clear weather: blue skies and lots of sun, though that didn't necessarily mean lots of running around in t-shirts. More like shuffling about in hat, winter coat, and scarf, but no complaints. Especially since we missed the predicted snow. But anyway. Rather a more leisurely go compared to the insanity of Glasgow or "Ahhh! London!" of other trips. We only had one required gallery, the Saatchi, which was, though somewhat disturbing, not nearly as excessively avant garde and "I am an artist and I'm going to flaunt it with my hideously proportioned sexual object thank you very much" (we watched a video of the Saatchi 100 in class, most of which seemed to involve various species of sexual exposure and self indulgence. What can I say, I'm not avant-garde). There was one leftover—a room full of recycled engine oil that, though perhaps not "art" in my mind, was very curious to look at. A wedge had been cut into the room so that visitors (one at a time, as we were so anxiously/surlily reminded by the oil room guard) could walk about halfway in and admire the rather disorienting mirroring effects of the waist high spread. Conclusion? Engine oil is rather a pain to remove. The actual exhibit was "The Triumph of Painting," essentially, according to the article we read on it, Saatchi's attempt to use his own personal (flawed) taste and a whole lot of money (Graham Gund, anyone?) to start a new trend. I actually liked quite a few of the pieces, particularly the Doig that started it off...some of them were a bit pretentious, mostly in the wall descriptions, but his style and subject matter (detailed but fluent, usually depicting intermingled utopian industrialesque scenes and natural growth, forests and lakes and such. Random snowboard sillhoette in the "Orange Sunshine," too. Not sure aboutt that one). There was one in particular, a rather large canvas of a white building with color patterned windows glimpsed through a forest that I found especially intriguing, probably because he managed to make the forest colors rich and real, the perspective nearly perfect but not so ultra-realistic as to make it seem needless. Dreamy, maybe. Some of the other artists...not so much. Kippenburger slightly, seemed a bit random and static. Immendorf's were rather grotesque, deliberately of course, but somewhat put me off, probably because they all seemed to focus on twisted scenes of drinking or nightmare, though there was one toward the end that put me in mind of Sharmanka (more on that later). Can't help it. It may be "great art," but sometimes I'm not sure defamiliarization and subversion is the best way to go about getting a message across...or even for its own sake, in which case there wouldn't seem to be any meaning at all. Pointless, but that's the point. Bawk? Even that's become cliche. And when everything's cliche, then...ergh. All right, no more philosophy for me. Other couple of artists much of the same—Nitsh politically laden, Dumas unnecessarily concerned with shock display through child eroticism, Tymans...actually a bit of a curiosity in himself, politicized but not so much so that he forgot that he was painting. Still not sure exactly what he was after, though.

That was Saturday, though. Saturday morning, to be precise, after a second thwarted trip to the Apple store to get Dorothy fixed (finally got in on Sunday and had a bunch of software repaired after a two hour wait. Sound's still off, but I'd rather go without than spend 50/400 pounds and a whole lot of computer absence when I can do it over break. Apple store in itself was really cool though—over on Regent street, only one in Europe, two floors of queues and gadgets). Friday afternoon was spent visiting St Bartholomew's church over past St Paul's and ice skating. I'll have to send around pictures of the church—built in 1123, one of the oldest churches in England (?) and said to be haunted by a one-sandalled ghost of a jester-turned-monk. Didn't have any "I need your shoe!" encounters, but wandered about in the "holy gloom" for a while, taking pictures. It really was an eerie space, not merely for the ghost overtones, but just for itself. The age was in the walls; in themselves perfectly stable, but scoured by standing and for the most part unlit, despite attempts at inserted electricity. Enormous dark organ opposite the violet-laden altar, and enough floorstones with carved names to house quite a few more ghosts. Whitney, Ellen, and I lit tapers and left them; I'd always wanted to do so...it just seems a rather...I don't know...stablizing? symbolic? ritual and manifestation of prayer. And all of the burning candles were pretty.

Ice skating shook a bit of the spooky mantle—little tiny rink a couple stops down, which involved remembering how to skate, negotiating with the very stiff boots on the rental skates, and dodging kids and camera (Prez opted for hauling everyone's bag and being camerawoman rather than tottering about the ice). Rather a nice change after museums, galleries, and plays. Bit of an uplift before Macbeth, which we went to see at the Albery that night. Most of the group was not impressed, but I thought it was very well done, perhaps because I had never seen it performed before. The actor who played Macbeth had been the ghost of Hamlet's father in the Hamlet we saw last semester, and while some of his monotone and grandiose gestures carried over, he did have his moments—knocking all of the plates and silverware off the table during the Banquo's ghost scene, going mad at the very end before he's killed by MacDuff, forcing the visions of the weird sisters. Solid performances across the board; whether because of the production or because I'd reread some of the play (it's been a long time since Dr. Allison's class freshman year of high school)—I could finally see some of the banding and disbanding relationships amongst the men and the king, the hold that Lady Macbeth had on her husband and her own psychology, some of the seeds of Macbeth's ambition...though it wasn't quite clear to me still why he turned on Duncan so quickly. Even with Lady Macbeth's influence and the weird sisters' predictions, it happened too fast. Of the other characters, MacDuff's stands as the strongest—I hadn't gotten to the part where Macbeth has his pregnant wife and children killed, and his breakdown at the news (this just after peforming a complicated guilt trip/duty binding with Malcolm) hurt. Especially the, "He has no children!" Set was rather brilliant at points as well, particularly the moving fortress wall with Malcolm aboard as Macbeth sat railing at the troops approaching his gate, or the reverse wall retreat with MacDuff's son Fleance looking back at the reappearing weird sisters in an open-ended suggestion to the finality of Malcolm's stepping over the duel-dead Macbeth.

Saturday's performance was probably ust about as far from RSC Shakespeare as one can get while still being loosely based on Love's Labors Lost. Out in Zone 3 at the Theatre Royal The Big Life involved a whole lot of Jamaican inflected musical numbers centred around four main couples who had traveled from Jamaica to England in search of a better life. Naturally, that "better life" is rather nonapparent, complicated by color and the men's decision to abstain from excessive food, drink, sleep, and women. Or women at all actually. That, of course, does not hold out long after necessity forces them into the same boarding house as the women who came over with them. Some great characters, though I can't remember everyone's names—shuffling, pained man after the girl he'd broken up with on the boat; straight-laced nurse with a bit of a flair for the wild; clownish figure of the strumming man who hangs out busking (?) by the Cupid statue all day with a British lady friend (actually becomes Cupid in one of the scenes, crazily enough); random woman dressed in purple who commented from the balcony on everything below. Very colorful, very vibrant, though half of the language and British jokes went straight over my head. Really wish they had a recording, 'cause some of the nubmers just stick ("Neva, neva, neva, neva..."; "I knew it, you blew it..."; "I'm better than you..."), and loudly. Stage setup was great 'swell—had the orchestra (Jamaican types all in white against a blue-cloud background, wearing wings) shelved up behind the actors in a sort of "heaven" motif, rest of the sets simple but effective. Much fun. Matz informed us today that it was one of the best things he's ever seen. He was definitely in a cheeky boy mood today, particularly when Bowman was talking. Ah, amusement.

More amusement Saturday night, after we'd rushed through dinner at Pizza Express and gotten to the Palace theatre for Pedro, the Great Pretendera second after they'd closed the doors. They let us in and we managed to get decent seats (though I had to repurchase mine, as I somehow managed to book for Friday instead of Saturday night. Ticket man was nice about it, though, and Bowman did reimburse). Much with the Cervantes picaro up to his tricks, with all of the accompaniments—unknown royalty disguised as a gypsy with dreams too big for her station, changeable hero who can get out of any problem after being educated by tramps, blind men, beggars etc; boyish, rather absurd king with a tendency for flopping all over pillows and running away from his jealous queen; incompetent but very enthusiastic mayor with a tendency to substitute the wrong words everywhere while in court and to overpromote his hapless troup of male dancers. I was quite fond of the chicken scene, which elicited a lot of laughs, whether for the expression on the actors faces as they were dealing with the chicken puppets or just because...I don't know. Some funnies you can't explain. Pedro also managed to trip on the chickens. Muah. And of course, Cervantes managed to wangle himself into the text as the last alias Pedro takes on before informing the audience that they cannot come to the performance beyond the stage. The production was RSC's taking on of the Spanish Golden Age, and I thought they did rather well; staging was a bit strange, with all of the actors staying onstage even when not performing (usually seated at the back), and musical interludes every time there was a scene/episode change. And then there was that random, tall, cane-bearing, black caped man whose function I'm still not certain of, though he had a great scene with Belica (the royalty in rags type) where she appears to be attempting to seduce him and they are near enough to kiss when he suddenly leans down and clicks his teeth at her and immediately turns back to the business at hand, much to her petulant confusion. Gotta love Cervantes.

Sooooo....yes. Leeds castle was planned for most of the day Sunday, but as nobody really wanted to get up at "horrible o'clock," as Ellen phrased it, and it was freezing, we ended up staying and wandering about London some more before heading back on the 6:30 long-as-all-heck train. And that was the uber-exciting account of a rather enjoyable weekend. I even managed to get some work done, though I don't like Jean Brodie today any more than I did on the train up. Sigh. At least A Star is Bornwasn't terrifically depressing this morning. Mack tomorrow. Should be interesting. And now...bed. Hopefully with more calming dreams. Ha.

Current Music: Alternately "Scene D'Amour" sung by Sarah Brightman and clips from Avenue Q, probably 'cause Whitney was listening to it on the way back from London, and I couldn't help asking after the chuckle parts.

Current Book: In search of The Screwtape Letters, mostly 'cause I've heard it's very good and a friend wants to try a writing exercise based off of it. Other than that, I should probably crack open the Guide O'Doom to France I bought today, start planning a little more in depth for spring break post March 28th, when I get back from the States.

Current Nonsense: The combinations of food I've had today. Plain burrito does not go with a carrot. Rice cakes do not go with a jelly-filled bagel. Huge pasta thingee should not be eaten at three in the afternoon. Gah.

Update time!

softstepshoes — Tue, 15 Feb 2005 16:53:38 GMT

Part I: Glasgow

'cause the Hollywood Heroines movie didn't last for five bazillion years, unlike Perils of Pauline which could have stood some major editing. I mean, come on, how many times can you get tied and gagged and manipulated before you figure out that your guardian is trying to get you killed and steal your fortune? Not that he would really need too, considering, except for the part where he'll be broke after paying for you to get tied and gagged and manipulated. Honestly. Everything from Indian goddesses to leaking yachts, all against an grating, repetitive soundtrack. But fun, for the sheer silly that was the dialogue. Three screenings a week is great and all, but between very early Hollywood and depressing, twisted satire all about ageing actresses who go nuts I might have to start watching Shrek every week just to keep sane. As it is I'm already looping Avenue Q.

Sooooo...been awhile since the last update, as usual. Time to blather about Scotland and spring break! Wow, I sound like Matz and his little outlines for class: "So first we're going to look at how people thought the Angry Young Men were rather worthless after a year so that we can watch spastic running, then we'll talk a little bit about Orwell and how he is so NOT DRY, then..." Gotta love Matz.

: The trip was a bit of a mess to begin with, mostly because we were leaving in the middle of what was technically finals week—most of us done, some staying behind, others carrying over. Stress point number one: Starting to Write exam hanging over my head. Still, Matz and Bowman managed to remain chipper, as usual, and the flight (flight!) was quick and pretty; most of the UK looks very similar from above, but I had never actually gotten to see it without cloudcover and severe I've-been-traveling-for-approximately-eighteen-hours-and-I-want-to-go-homeness. Patchy green and glimmery lakes every once in awhile, even up nearer Scotland where I rather expected it to be snowing. It was windy, but the sun made what might otherwise have been a slightly ungainly city worth the watch from our ever so spiffy Scotlandmobile (mini bus type thing) complete with heavily accented driver. All I could think of driving in is, "Hey, this is where Gerry Butler's from! Bwahaha!" Yes, I am going into Phantom withdrawal after last semester. Shh. Nevertheless, if it were up to me I probably would have chosen Edinburgh to grow up in, probably because I'm only touring Scotland in tourist capacity...and yet Edinburgh was extremely walkable, historically interesting from the castle-on-the-hill type perspective, and had a beautiful windy hill within sight and climbing capacity. Yup, I've definitely got my priorities straight. Perhaps it was partially because it felt Irish, that story beneath the blood type connection to landscape and memory that emerges in moments. Glasgow had a lot to recommend it, though, mostly of the architecture and creepy cool variety. Mackintosh was the big name there (and not the Cameron Mackintosh I've produced every musical ever made), one of the Glasgow boys who with his wife and friends implemented a new, very modern style of highly uncomfortable looking chairs and carefully decorated and schemed furniture and buildings. His most famous achievement: the Glasgow School of Art, still functional, though invaded regularly by tourists and no-touchy rules concerning the library (brilliant space, I thought, with the whole forest effect and atmosphere). That particular venue was one among a bajillion we had to track down, the others various museums and galleries (Gallery of Modern Art, The Lighthouse, The McLellan Gallery [Matz blamed my last name for the mispelling in class]). We never quite made it to the House for an Art Lover, a Mackintosh designed but belatedly built structure a little too out of our time crunched and physically exhausted way. I found the McLellan Gallery fascinating, partially for the Mackintosh stuff (tall backed chairs, overindulgence in heart and flower motifs, elongated women with a curious draw about them), partially because some of the other exhibits featured sculpture and pre-Raphaelite paintings, which I'm always up for. And the gift shop was shiny.

More to come when I can concentrate and have gotten some work done. Still need to sort through pictures of the Sharmanka theatre and the cathedral. And get my chance to poke at Leave to Remain and Look Back in Anger before they go completely out of memory. For the sake of Matz's plea if nothing else. Now, however, I've got to go give the pony on the hill some love...and possibly those carrots that aren't getting any younger...

Current Music : Forbidden Broadway. Bwahaha. Also echoes of Avenue Q.
Current Nonsense : Er...I think we took care of our nonsense quota yesterday, what with cross-dressing as each other and confusing the heck out of the professor twins, eating suspicious salami-pepperoni pizza, and exclaiming over the cuteness of the little furball monster Fizzgig from Dark Crystal (I want one, too!). Creepy muppets. Perfect for Peziverssary. Boys? What boys? Oh, except for vicarious boy-appearance for Prez in the form of a hugeish box of roses, which she shared out...mine is currently residing in the silly horse mug from Christmas. Crimson. Pretty.
Current Book: Trying to get through The Illustrated Man, but it's rather slow going for some reason. Need a fast, funny read to break up all of this satire and coal mining stuff.

softstepshoes — Sat, 05 Feb 2005 22:50:29 GMT

Okay, too amusing not to post. Credit to "Mary-Sue" on the Phantomfans.net board in response to someone's making a series of Phantom puppets.

Quote: like potter puppet pals? poto puppet pals?

"I am Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny. I must stop him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erik: I love Christine
Firmin: I love Money
Andre: I love YOU Firmin!
Firmin: Um...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Erik: Let's go Punjab Raoul!
Phan: Okay
Both: Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab Punjab
Erik: That was fun!
Phan: And I liked the part where he stopped moving
Erik: LET'S DO IT AGAIN!

softstepshoes — Sat, 05 Feb 2005 21:49:30 GMT

So did I mention that I wanted this semester to end? Yeah, I think I did. Having a final paper due in February is just ridiculous. Especially when we've already started new classes (Satire with the Andrew Lloyd Webber-is-the-antichrist professor from New York, Hollywood Heroines with a soft-spoken Englishwoman who has a long-term relationship with temporary reserve...uhhhhgh photocopying) and everyone in the Kenyon group looks about as brain savvy as overdone toast after our last set of finals. Honestly. Every single person I've talked to seems to start out the conversation with a glazed, vague "Yes, I'm...fine..." look, snap to at the word "paper," and then suddenly spurt into a rant about how their paper is over the word count or under the word count or going random places that it shouldn't or sticking in random places and refusing to go anywhere or did I mention that I want to pull my hair out and feed it to spastic ducks? 'course, knowing the Exeter ducks, they'd probably shun it. Oh well. It'll be done by Monday. And at least in my case Stoppard isn't so bad to write about...fun, actually...but he's so intelligent and clever that it makes me feel as though I'm creating all of my arguments to be collapsed. Bweh. I pull Goethe on you! Not sure why he showed up *grumblegrumbleFaustclassgrumble*, but he seems determined not to go anywhere, so I'll appease him until I have to edit. By then it may be pies made out of German poets. Razor'd! Wait, no, that's Ellen's paper. Ahhhh Sweeney Todd!

But yes, I think that's enough cathartic rambling. No major complaints, really, just a lot of fuzzy headed glares in the direction of the computer screen (not too vicious because Dorothy is already cranky as it is. Keeps telling me I have the date set to 1969 and that's why all the apps are running crazy. Except for the part where I don't. Hmph. Maybe it's Toto [no, Glinda, not "Dodo." I don't name my iPods Dodo.]). Talks on AIM have helped, as have ventures outside of my room—this afternoon,'Nator, Prez, and I wandered up past the duck pond (where we and our non-breadness were shunned in favor of a gaggle of kids in wellies toting a whole hunk of feedy goodness) and toward where the pony lives at the top of the hill. Little Appaloosa mare who's always up for sugar and a scratch, probably because she's usually a bit of a mud ball. Only got one today, 'cause none of us had any sugar we hadn't eaten, but we did learn her name from a walker passing by: Bella. Or "you little devil" if we were to listen to the lady she kept trying to nip up. Really nice old lady, talkative, evidently an ex-professor at the university. Though she did ask me if I was actually going to university...said I looked too young for it. Bawk?

All right. Back to the paper. Yes. Updates on Scotland are on the agenda for post-paperness. Probably without the "and then we spent three hours watching rather badly made movies on channel 4 and playing truth or dare that involved me shouting 'I heart Raoul and the doggehs!' out the window to the rest of the hotel's hapless guests." Run awaaaaay!

Current Book : Finished The Alchemist, very thought-provoking, quick read. 've got a pile of books the size of my printer that I probably won't get through any time soon, but I'm trying. Stagecraft is next on the list.

Current Randomness : Sending out prayers and hugs to Whitney, positive "London and I heart Sophie" vibes to Swansigh, and sanity waves to the rest of us hapless Kenyonites.

Current Music: Serenading drunks. It must be Saturday night. Or Sunday night. Or Monday night. Or Tuesday night...