The Diary of Queen Mothy |
Yet Another Fire Drill written @ 9:57 PM on September 04, 2002 Liz... you need to explain your entry in more detail. What do you mean, those organisms that dare call themselves people INSPECT how you organize your damn desk?! Pray do explain, dear... Recently, we had the third fucking fire drill in three fucking weeks at the dorm. This time it occured at the all-too-convenient hour of 1 am. But I wasn't in the shower. Which is always good. But once more, the damn fire trucks came whirling into the residential village in all their blazing glory. Some shmuck probably burnt fucking popcorn again. As a result, I had a damn migraine all the next day. I felt like hell. But at the critique in drawing class yesterday, I actually observed that my S.S. teacher does, indeed, have a sense of humor. And interestingly enough, it was the first time I observed the work of my classmates... Eh... For some of them, this drawing class is their first "real" art class. You can only imagine. But for first time artists, they really did not do all that bad. Just a little fine tuning. To be perfectly frank and not conceited, my Lord Mortimer drawing blew the class out of the water... That's what A.P. Art in high school does to you, I guess. Even my drawing teacher was impressed, or so it appeared. He commented on "how accurate" the perspective was, how he loved it's "sketchy style" and how Mortimer himself was a beast. Really, to get any sort of praise like that out of him was a battle won. And today in 2-D Design, after flipping through the sketchbook I labored over all weekend, Nick, the professor, looked me straight in the eye and genuinely meant it when he said, "You've got some good stuff in this." I think he appreciated the work extra, because the rest of the class is struggling with the design concepts at hand. Anyway, the comment really made my night. Just wait until he sees the finished product. I think he'll like what I've got in mind. It was a beautiful day. I met up with some people I knew periodically, but it was yet another day on my own. Yet again, I find I do not really mind. You see, I have grand schemes in store: 1) Author Dalton Conley is coming to the campus in two weeks. He's the guy who wrote this amazing book called "Honky," and I am determined to win the writing contest and be one of 20 students to eat lunch with him. I want to pick his brain about publishing companies and tips for writing. 2) Earn an approval for painting a mural in the dorm. I actually found out that the Residential Association here was sponsoring this endeavor in the freshmen newsletter I got in the mail yesterday, and I am so gung-ho about turning those asylum-esque hallways into something the equivalent of an LSD high. My subject of painting? A coral reef scene with a thousand different fish, sea turtles, and dolphins. I had to try to think of something that everyone would appreciate, and one lacking thing in Kentucky is the ocean... so... But if anyone else has any ideas (Kat, you're usually good at these sorts of things), drop me a note. I want to hear from you guys anyway. 3) Had a great idea for revamping my first book. It's kind of "Grapes of Wrath"-ish with the poetic in-between chapters-- only Sam style. Life is good. I'm really digging this college thing. It's taking some time, but I'm loving living on my own. It's nice to hear from the parental units-- hell, I even wanted to hear from my demonic brother on how his first day at East went-- but it's truly a pleasure to be your own person. You never know what the day is going to bring, who you may meet, even what you may "really" learn when you do your assignments. I am falling in love with this campus ever so slowly. And I figured if I treat my art classes like RISD, I'll find some advisors in high places. I'm also busy hunting down the theater department chair to work out my schedule for next semester. We had a break in my 2-D Design class this evening, and I stepped outside into the hallway. I heard this beautiful music, and from the sounds of it, it was a song from "Man of La Mancha." The cast must have been rehearsing in the dance room with the piano right next to the theater. I stood there listening to it for some time. It was an upperclassman-- I could tell-- who had a beautiful, confident voice. You could feel her passion. And then a guy-- I presume the Broadway guest lecturer who's playing Don Quixote-- sang just a wonderful duet. I felt such a sorrow. My dad told me before I left for college that he didn't want me to give up acting, that I really did have a chance... but I don't see how I can do it. Oh, how I miss acting. And I will try for it once I straighten out my schedule next semester. But I feel like I've lost ground. Listening to my Broadway CDs is becoming painful too. I miss it so much. I'm just afraid that one day it will not be enough to just design wonderful scenery.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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