Short and sweet.
The artsy friend.
Entirely too dramatic.
Doesn't have a clue.
"You can't fight the tears that ain't comin
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive."
Goo Goo Dolls
"Don't think we're not serious
When's it ever not?"
Jimmy Eat World
"Because I knew you
I have been changed for good."
Saturday, May 27, 2006
I do what I can, you know...
Quotes of the Day:
"... I don't want to fix it!" - Jean Grey, X3 (Honestly got frightened at this line. The back of my neck felt funny.)
"Music is worthless unless it can make a complete stranger break down and cry..." - Frou Frou
"Music is essentially useless; as life is." - Anon. (not really, I'm just too lazy to look it up)
"I am personally going to shoot that paper-hanging sonofabitch Hitler. Just like I'd shoot a snake!" - Gen. George S. Patton
Sometimes I wonder if it was God who decided that the octave should have eight notes. It doesn't really have eight, it's actually seven - do is reapeated at the end. Why not five? An even ten? Or is that just how it had to be - a law of nature that every eight notes is exactly double the sound wave vibrations as the first? Theory rocks so much.
Tired tired tired of feeling like shit. Quick-and-efficient has been succeeding sometimes, but generally not getting off the ground. I'll get there, but being patient makes me frustrated.
Do you ever get the urge to just - I dunno - bounce around going "Hmm hmm hmm hm-hm hmm!" and bopping your head?
Some things I would like to change someday:
1. My absentmindedness and disorganization and inability to think things through
2. My nearsightedness
3. My odd tendency to be late to EVERYTHING.
4. My impatience. I'm generally patient with people, but not situations, and not myself. Actually, I don't ever want to be patient with myself. Funny, is that healthy, to not want to be patient with yourself? Myself should know better, after all...
Posted at 01:30 am by AoiHoshi
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Let's get something straight. I know - know - that the entire world does want to know what's on my mind. Vain though I am, naive I am not. Time again to run witty social commentary (as witty as I can possibly get anyway). Maybe this is a product of not having anyone else to talk to, or a desperate attempt to hold onto something that I had from high school. Let's not psychoanalyze it. Or me. Mostly me. Stay out of my head, you have no business there.
So I caved - I have to get a job, and the only places that will hire someone only planning to work for two months are restaurants. Damn. Today at an Applebee's job interview I filled out a personality quiz. This means that the manager running the place is a middle-aged guy who's too lazy to actually talk to me in person and who is probably into pop psychology, but whatever. Basically consisted of 150 questions (and repeats of questions worded differently) like, "Do you enjoy getting bossed around?" and "Can you think of someone you would like to "put in his/her place?" I answered no to both.
I kind of hope I don't get the job at Applebee's. One - I have an interview tomorrow at El Chico's anyway, and I know they'll hire me because Mike and Jena both know me and like me, and they're terribly understaffed. Two - as I was filling out the questionnaire, this twentysomething guy employee with glasses and pimples - the kind of guy you'd expect to see at a movie theatre filling popcorn bags and probably speaking Klingon - asked me, "You gonna work here?"
I looked up, made eye contact, and said brightly, "I hope so!"
I smiled pleasantly. "No, I'm eighteen."
"So?!" he asked incredulously. "Don' mean nothin'!"
"No, I don't drink." Smile becomes fixed; snap judgement formed.
He shook his head and smirked. "You start workin' here, you will. I'm Billy, by the way, and I'm sorta the entertainment 'round here. I throw a lot a' parties, and if you work here you're comin' to evvvvvv'ry single one a' my parties, and you're gonna drink." He shook his head at me like he knew a secret. "I don't believe you don't drink."
"Well, I don't," I said firmly, thinking that would be the end of it.
"When you come to my parties, you're gonna play beer pops. Shit, that's fun."
Shut the hell up, you dolt. "I doubt it," I said, shaking my head. I then pretended to be absorbed in my very interesting questionnaire, and managed to make him think I'd tuned everything else out. He stopped talking.
Perfectly fittingly enough though, the next question was "Do you sometimes feel the urge to tell "nosey" people to mind their own business?" I giggled in my head and scribbled in Yes.
End episode one...
Everything is changing! I've been told to embrace it, and I'm trying. And some of it, I am. I get a laptop. If I don't get a 30 on the ACT in June (which I'm taking for the FOURTH time!) then I really don't know what I'll do, as my parents do not have enough money to put me and the rest of my siblings through college without the ten-thousand extra dollars I'd get for being a smarty-pants. I'm studying for it. It's really frightening how much math there is to know, and how much I don't remember ever learning. Ah well, math is trivial.
I have to move out of my room. My sister's getting it. I have to start putting everything in my room into cold, hard, cardboard boxes. I think I'll feel like... I've been uprooted. And that home is not home any more, and just somewhere that I sleep. But I am a grown-up now, yes? And this is the beginning of that part of life where your home slowly becomes not home. Where will I put myself? Ah well, I can deal with that.
Sometimes adversity is empowering. It's like... I want to stop and mourn things that end, but then I realize that I can't, because there's no time for that. Faced with it all I am here. Breathing. Singing. Peeing. Living. Life doesn't stop, not ever. And that's not a bad thing. In fact, it's a really really good thing.
Posted at 01:03 am by AoiHoshi
Thursday, May 11, 2006
I graduate in five hours.
Tonight, nothing new will happen. The hard part is not now; it was mid-August last year when we all woke up at six knowing that it was the last first day of public school we'd ever have - it was mid-November, staying up past 2 AM and deliriously trying to write an AP research paper - it was putting on the debate tournament in January and running all over building K on sore legs trying to place people in the right rooms when the lists were messed up - it was marathon dance weekends in the middle of freak blizzards and ice storms, and trying to get home on slick roads - it was Opening Night when tornadoes nearly put the show on hold - it was scads of studying and AP tests when all you felt like was jumping into a swimming pool. Coming to school, completing senior year... that's what mattered, not what your graduation dress looks like, or how many stoles you get to wear tonight.
Done with school.
Posted at 02:35 pm by AoiHoshi
Sunday, May 07, 2006
I need to watch Chicago again, now that I've visited the actual place. And it's a lot prettier than the movie makes it out to be.
I can't describe it; there just aren't words to convey how incredible it is to be able to look at a hundred buildings that are roughly 100 times taller than you are, and then to see them all dwarfed from the 103rd floor of the Sears Tower. The skyline of the city itself is so big that you actually have to turn your head to take it all in. I've never seen so many diverse people in one place, and even with overcrowding and big-city air pollution, I've never seen so many flowers - we must've gone during a festival or something, there were tulips everywhere, and this kind of tree (we think apple trees, but we didn't ask) that had the most gorgeous, almost glowing, white, puffy flowers. The buildings are so modern-style-architecture and light reflects off the windows even when it's cloudy, and there's art, and lots of it. We didn't get to go into the Chicago Art Institute or the Museum of Natural History or anything cool like that, and I wanted to soooo badly, but the city pays so much attention to detail that there's more than enough to see. There were statues everywhere, it seemed - a big bean-shaped mirror thing in Millenium Park that we were fascinated with, actual bronze lions in front of the Art Institute, and two tall, glass-brick walls that lit up from the inside with faces of people on them. Even the people and the very way of life seemed creative to me - I'm probably over-romanticizing, but I don't care. I just wonder how many people I saw were tourists, and how many actually lived there. It was so huge and busy and noisy and amazing; I think I am in love with it.
And the most infuriating thing ever was when all eighty-five choir kids on the buses were pressing up against the windows to take it all in, and Michele looked at her mother with a silly little smirk on her face and said, "It's nothing like New York, but it'll do for today."
If I'd only had a blunt, heavy object...
It was the biggest injustice in the world to only have three hours to try to take it all in. I was with D.'s group, and the first place we stopped was a 7-11 because (having checked into the hotel at 3 AM that morning) D. needed a Diet Dr. Pepper. I bought a pop, too, after contemplating buying a slushie and then being informed that the machine was broken. After we burned an hour and a half walking to the Navy Pier and taking a bus back to Michigan St. (I saw a trolley. A TROLLEY. And I started singing "Clang, clang, clang went the trolleeeyyy!" really loudly, and Alli told me that the next time she heard that song out of my mouth she'd kill me. I laugh in the face of death - I sang it louder. In her ear. Got some people's attention. It's suddenly very interesting to see just how much of my life revolves around musicals...) I didn't think it was possible for one city to have so many taxis, and I wanted to hail one just to see if me sticking my arm up into the air would actually make one stop, but D. wouldn't let me. We ate at some pizza place I can't recall the name of now, but what people (especially Mr. D.) say about Chicago pizza is true - it's not what you expect, but it's amazing. And sitting there in the restaurant looking out the window, I couldn't help but burst, "Downtown Chicago is so much cooler than downtown Tulsa." D. looked at me and laughed. "Ya think?!"
I hope Jazz Choir won something at the competition, because all things considered (getting lost, only having ten minutes to dress out, virtually no warm-up time, and three hours of sleep the night before), I think we did very well. But if not... I don't care, and I don't think anyone else does either, because this weekend was such a whirlwind of sights and sounds and smells and colors - an entirely different world, and right before graduation... it was just incredible.
There's so much more to say that I'm too tired to type. I adore Chicago. I'm going back. End of discussion.
Posted at 09:35 pm by AoiHoshi
Sunday, April 30, 2006
It's May! It's May! The lusty month of May! That darling month when everyone throws self-control away... and how. I couldn't concentrate if I tried. And I have tried. Really.
Crime and Punishment rocked face. Best book all year in Lit. Too bad Chambers left it until the very last month of school when we're all too completely burnt out on evvvvverything to make any delves into its philosophy without her guiding us with pokes and prods and reins.
Sometimes the most terrifying thing is seeing someone you think is okay, who you realize is human but who you somehow think is above such mood swings, in a minute of absolute despair. It's frightening. What can you do? If you try to give advice, they'll just nod and say "I know I should, but right now..." If you just let them be depressed by themselves, they might think you're ignoring them. And I don't know the correct answer, I'm just spouting ideas - but the most I can say is to ask them questions and listen to them vent. Above all I think they want someone to hear them and understand. They need it just like you do.
Nightingale, sing us a song of a love that once belonged... Nightingale, tell me your tale... was your journey far too long? Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer to a question I can't ask? I don't know which way the feather falls, or if I should blow it to the left... Please listen to that song with your eyes closed when it's raining - not spitting-misty-rain, real rain. That's the only way it should be heard. (And the song "What a Wonderful World" should only be heard from the top of a ferris wheel. Go figure!)
What with all the rain and humidity we've been having lately, my hair has grown at least five inches. Not down. Out. I don't think it can get any bigger. Claudio Sanchez ain't got nothin' on me. "Listen well, will you marry me" IN SOLFEGE is do-do-do sol-sol-sol ti do! And yes... I sang the scale first. That's not just BS. I'm right.
Let's analyze some more things! Today is a gift, and that's why we call it the present. Clever fortune-cookie line or annoying pun? You decide; you have freedom of choice! (Whaaaaat? ME?! No! I can't deal with that! Are you sure? Is it serious?)
And they heard as she drove off into the sunset:
Yes, I think to myself... what a wonderful world
Posted at 12:36 am by AoiHoshi
Monday, April 24, 2006
I learned something a while ago that is so very disheartening: cow-tipping, by one's lonesome, is physically impossible. However, if TWO people team up against one sleeping Cow Czar and attempt to overthrow it, they will be successful. (I wonder if the Russian peasants got as much of a kick out of toppling Nicholas II as Tommy Boy did tipping cows... I somehow doubt it.)
I really like all the Chinese exchange kids that I've met so far; they're all so friendly, and speak English so well. But strangely enough, having a meeting of the two cultures made me appreciate living in America, and even Oklahoma, more than I have before. One of the boys - John's host brother I think - made the point that "When we landed in the United States, I said that the color of California was yellow. But when I came here, the color of Oklahoma was green." All of them act a little formal - Laine explained that as a culture we're much warmer than the Chinese, and that she had to coax Jenny into her mom's room and tell her that it was okay to flop down unceremoniously onto her bed. I think it's brave of them all to venture into a country they've only read about, where virtually nobody speaks their native language... and they make me feel really lazy. All I know how to say in Chinese is "hello," and I think their grammar skills in English are better than mine.
There are two and a half weeks till we graduate, and it hit me today that senior year has been nothing whatsoever like I thought it would be. The musical went by in a huge blur of lights, sounds, Godawful-feet-smells and safety pins. Prom night was a blast, but not at all what I expected. And I'm really not sure what it was that I expected - better music, less kinky dancing, spiked punch, I don't know - something to make the actual dance itself not necessarily cooler, but more memorable. (Wait, I take it back - they had little pillow mints on the tables with wrappers that said Prom '06 on them. Hot dang.) I guess that the junior class that threw it for us realizes that it isn't the actual event itself that matters, but the people you spend it with. Funny thing is that they're not graduating until next year.
I'm not really anticipating graduation itself - I just want to be out of school. And I don't really know what to expect. I've become really apathetic to everything and everyone, it seems, which I really hate. I think I'll make a resolution right now to quit that. From now until May 11th, I vow to not fear probing people's minds. After all, two weeks from Thursday, it's highly probable that I'll never see any of them again. Why not learn new things about people during the last two weeks you'll ever spend with them?
The LAST TWO WEEKS! I'm going to put my life in a bag and toddle away to college. How will that work, I wonder?
Posted at 08:59 pm by AoiHoshi
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Just Picture the Opening Night...
Opening nights are always memorable and unique. Ironic though this statement is, last Thursday was no exception.
I arrived at the school after having a short yet wonderful nap at Terkel's house for about half an hour, washing off my day makeup and applying the too-dark-for-daylight foundation at her house as well. As I parked in the lot next to Hope's yellow beetle, my dance partner screeched to a halt beside me. I gathered my bag in my arms as I tumbled out of my car and banged on his driver-seat window. "Two hours till curtain!" I yelled with this maniacal smile on my face. "Come on, Matt, let's go! It's opening night!!!"
Forty-five minutes later, people began getting phone calls from parents saying that tornado sirens were sounding. It started to rain - big fat drops landing on the concrete outside the doors, coming down thick. Some of the girls started to get worried, especially some of the littler girls in the swing choruses. Two minutes later in the dressing room, in the middle of adding wings to my eyeliner and Kara rationalizing that "this sort of thing happens all the time in Oklahoma and we haven't died yet," Schuyler stuck his head in the door (it's okay) and said that he'd just heard the sirens go off.
All the girls had this moment of Oh, Lord where we just gaped and couldn't believe what was going on, but the girls on crew snapped out of it first and continued doing makeup. I went into the hall and called my mom to ask for the storm report, and after that, Dusty called me to make sure we knew what we were in for. I assured him we did. About that time Nichols came down the hall and, with her Director's Powers, ushered us all into the dressing rooms with orders to stay there. I sat in the chair between the mirror and Chelsey, and we all waited for 6:30, because that was when it was supposed to pass over. One hour till curtain.
In the makeup room and the girls' dressing room, there were roughly twenty curling irons plugged into wall sockets. I mulled over the fact that if the school got struck by lightning that every single one of the girls touching a curling iron could die, but let Chelsey curl my hair anyway. The lights flickered a little (but nobody screamed, which I have to give them credit for), then went out entirely. The room got loud with everyone trying to talk over each other, but the door opened and Nichols said in a firm voice "Continue getting ready!" and just left. Chelsey broke the uneasy silence first and said, "The electricity's out, so the irons are off, but they're still hot. Keep curling, girls!" And we laughed and whipped out our phones, flicking them open to see by the bluish light.
The power was back not long after, the sirens went silent, and everyone was allowed to leave the dressing rooms if they wanted (and we wanted - the girls' dressing room smelled horrible. Character shoes make your feet smell so bad.). My Mom called to say the storm had passed and that there was no tornado. I hung up and said "We're CLEAR!" and a "YAY!" went up from a couple of girls. Chelsey, never wavering, just said, "Excellent. Hold the curling iron and turn it back on, and gimme bobby pins."
Getting ready to start was like getting ready for dress rehearsal, except that we could hear the audience murmuring and buzzing over the monitor (and I finally had a good parasol instead of a cruddy wooden one). Nichols' Opening Night Speech wasn't as emotional and teary as I remember last year's being, but she did say one thing that made the entire green room go silent: "Tell the story. That's what people do as actors; they tell a story. You're not doing this because you have lots of spare time, or because you're being paid gobs and gobs of money. It's because you have a passion for this. Some people live their whole lives without passion in them. I have the best job in the world, because I'm doing what I love, and every time I walk into a theatre - even this old, smelly one - I get butterflies, because I know what goes on here. I hope you feel as lucky as I do to be doing what you love... Have a great show."
And that was the catalyst for everything. After she left, all the seniors suddenly seemed to realize at once that it was their last opening. Michele cried, of course, and so did Stephanie (she's so adorable and sweet, and by the end of the show's run I was glad she was Rose and not me). I got teary but did not actually spill over. Then Mrs. Stevens plunked an A on the piano and the orchestra started tuning, and the girls ran to the dressing room to brush powder on our faces one more time (I never realized before that powder was to keep your makeup from melting off under the lights. It's a Godsend!).
Right before we went onstage, Matt poked my arm in the dark and muttered, "Let me see your pinky." Strange kid, I think, but I comply. He promptly hooked pinkies with me and said, "Now bite your thumb." What?! "Just do it." So we both bit our thumbs. He grinned. "Been doing that before every show since seventh grade; never missed an Opening Night. It's good luck. Take it with you to college."
And then I realized: It's my last high school Opening Night. Like the first day of school this year - the last beginning, the last chance. But then our cue music started, and I didn't have time to make an imprint on my mind as I strolled out into the view of almost a whole auditorium - pretty impressive, considering we almost performed that night in Oz.
As I froze in my place with my chin lifted slightly and a smile (never forced) on my face, I fixed my eyes on a point in the back so that they wouldn't roam around. My gaze found the glowing orange exit sign in the corner of the balcony. I just stared at it the whole time. Exit, Exit, Exit...
Last year when Guys and Dolls closed - I think it was the scene that the Hot Box Girls were about to go on in their yellow feathery costumes - but I realized I literally couldn't think of anywhere else I would want to be at that moment; that this was what I wanted from life, however farfetched that sounds. I can write about musical theatre all day. It never fails to inspire, and nothing makes me feel as close to God. There is absolutely nothing more exhilarating than knowing that, as you come out of hiding in the wings of the stage, it's your job to make the audience for the next two hours fall completely in love with you. And even though the same thing happens every night, that's where your life is. I adore pulling off set changes like clockwork every night, running down the hall like mad to make it to your place after a quick costume change, the up-in-the-air feeling that it's just you and two months of rehearsals keeping the show afloat, dancing with a purpose and singing at the top of my lungs, forgetting everything else that happens outside the theatre itself because when you go inside, it's like a little Universe all by itself that is where the life happens. There is something so magic in it that I wanted to yell to the rafters every night, "Here we are, look what we've done!"
I'm so lucky. "Some people live their entire lives without passion." Not me, not me, not me.
Posted at 10:58 pm by AoiHoshi
Saturday, April 01, 2006
I wanna be your everything
If I could I would be by your side...
There really is nothing to do in this town, other than throwing cheap whipped cream at your friends, or blindfolding someone and refusing to tell them where you're going. Both of which are horridly cliche just being in print, but were incredibly fun as they were happening.
Reading recreationally is the type of thing you don't miss when you're not doing it, but once you start again, you realize that you needed it. It's nice to focus in on a book, let my imagination swirl with the imagery, and not think about anything else.
I could never make a blog and just abandon it. I made a Myspace, but when I quit using it, it was deleted, not abandoned! You'd never think this if you saw the mess that is my room, but for some reason I can't bring myself to let a pointless site stay in existence. I don't want to clutter up the Internet even more than it already is. And while on the subject of Myspaces, the most annoying, even creepy thing ever is when there are eighteen year old boys on there who are only friends with tweeny girls.
Do you know what? When a girl at rehearsal asked me what my boyfriend looked like, I responded "Tall... dark hair, deep voice. Likes to read. Very smart. Very cute." The girl I was speaking to squealed, "Is he tall dark and handsome?!" I blinked at her and said "Yes!"
My boyfriend is tall, dark and handsome. (Tall-dark-and-handsome DAMMIT!) How amazing is this?!
Senior year is rapidly coming to a close. April is our last full month of school, and it's here. I have rehearsal till all hours tonight, but the musical will be over one week from today. There's no time! It's going to be warm the night we graduate, and all I'll want will be to peel off my dumb-looking robe and stupid dress and throw on a swimsuit and jump into a swimming pool. I am an adult and I do not wish to be babysat any more.
I am a young woman; I am not a child that needs to be watched in case I do something stupid. That's what high school has been reduced to. Babysitting.
Pssht. They'll see, we'll show them.
Posted at 02:47 pm by AoiHoshi
Monday, March 20, 2006
Cookies straight from the oven are like clothes straight from the dryer: warm and wonderful. You can't recreate the feeling, even when you put the cookie in a microwave or pop your PJs in the dryer.
I had a tiny epiphany today... well, more like an aesthetically pleasing thought. It doesn't have to be New Years' in order to sing Auld Lang Syne. In fact, it would be more than appropriate to sing it at graduation. (That was the first solo I ever had. Lane sang the first verse and I sang the second. How cool and symbolic would it be if we did that during the Spring Concert? I'll have to ask D.)
I remember having a lot of little doubts this time last year about whether or not I should continue to look at life as a "giant moving picture" where everything turns out all right in the end. "What if it doesn't?" I asked.
Well, maybe it doesn't. Maybe the end comes entirely too soon and you don't have one last and final shebang before you all ricochet off each other and become real people instead of hormone-driven teenagers. Maybe you don't even know where all your friends are in ten years. Maybe in ten years you're not where you'd like to be in life - don't have that dream job quite yet, aren't married, don't have any kids - but maybe you are. Maybe you'll forget the dreams you have now, or accept that you can't attain them.
Maybe in ten years we are nothing like we are now - unrecognizable except for that you share your past self's name - and isn't that scary?
But this is what Jimmy Eat World spoke unto me:
"It just takes some time, little girl / You're in the middle of the ride / Everything will be just fine / Everything will be all right."
In jazz choir, Kara and I are second sopranos - we are not entirely the melody line and we are not the altos, and at the end of every song, there is one note in the chord that we are in charge of - the jazz note. All the other parts sing nicely fitting, structured notes in the chord, but our note adds the color. Because it is the middle that counts.
Oreos' defining aspect comes in the middle. You want regular, Double-Stuf, Reduced Fat, chocolate, peanut butter, or (for the holidays) Fun-Colored creme? Ice cream sandwiches are so named because of what's in the middle. You need bookends to keep your book collection in place and on display, but they only cap the ends of the important stuff.
The beginning of high school is hell. There were so many suicidal people I can remember in freshman year. And the end of high school isn't going to be anything like what I envisioned, I can already tell. It might be better. It might be incomplete. There may not be a definite feeling of being on a threshold, but that is where we are right now. We are in the middle of the ride. We are almost there, but we are not there yet. Though endings are never ever happy, it's the happy moments along the way that, in the end, make it okay...
Nothing momentous or important or life-changing is going to happen the night of graduation. Someone will read your name off a list, and you'll walk across a stage. You won't even get applause - there will be one thousand names to read, after all, and people will get tired (by the time they get to the M's, anyway. If your last name begins with A, you might get lucky and have some sporadic clapping). Graduation is just a marker. It's like saying, "Children, for the past thirteen years you've been taught how to be functional members of society. Now it's time for you to go off on your own and learn to be individuals." It's the end of high school. We've been dreaming of this moment for the past three and a half years, but we won't have gone through four years of drama just to get to that night. We'll have gone through them because we needed to. You can't wait until May 11 to do all the things you needed to do, or say what you've always wanted to say to someone. Graduation is just a ceremony to show that you have changed. (Change is art and beauty and life, but that's another philosophical rant entirely.)
The rain is slowly being driven out of town, and the grass is showing the barest hint of green. It's Spring Break. Summer is pending. The world as we know it is going to drastically change in a month and a half, but we are still in the middle. How do you measure a year? In 8 AM school bells? In ticket stubs? In dates that last past midnight? In cups of QuikTrip coffee?
Where will you be when I think of you next fall?
Posted at 02:45 pm by AoiHoshi
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
CHAMBERS IS PREGNANT!!
There will, in fact, be perpetuation of the coolest freakin' genes ever: the Chambers genes. That child, be it male or female, will have the poofiest hair and be able to create the strangest analogies ever known. I hope he/she knows, when they are born, how much they were anticipated not only by their parents, but by all their mother's classes. All 165 of Chambers' kids are sharing that excitement. That's kind of weird, but I'm glad - all of her girls are over the moon about it. That woman will never lack a babysitter!
There is a person inside her. Goo!!
At rehearsal today, something informal and amazing happened. I had plopped down beside Sarah, and we started talking, and she asked, "You decided where you're going to college?"
"I got put on OU's theatre waiting list," I said. "But I really hated it there. I'm going to OCU. I really think it's final."
She did a double-take. "Are you?"
"Yeah. Pretty sure."
She went back to rubbing Liz's back. "Well, awesome! That's exciting; I can't wait!" She lowered her voice. "I have a question... it's okay if you want to... you know, go potluck or something... but have you thought about me and you rooming together there?"
I looked at her and grinned. "I meant to ask you if you had, actually."
I nodded. "I was going to ask you the same thing."
She stopped moving her hands. "Want to?"
"Yeah I want to!"
She sat back. "Well, ALL RIGHT!"
I laughed. "Sarah - I have a college roommate!"
"YOU'RE MY ROOMIE!" she squealed. And we had a girly-moment hug. It was lovely.
After rehearsal, Nichols called my name, along with two other girls and three boys, to stay for a while after rehearsal let out because she had "something for us to do." Thomas insisted that if it gave us more stage time, he was all for it, but I was not so enthused: I was tired and wanted to go home. But it turns out that after the party scene in the second act, the six of us get to put on cloaks and mittens and cross in front of the curtain singing "The First Noel." A cappella. All by our little lonesome.
Laine pulled me aside afterward and said excitedly, "You're one of her singers!"
"I guess so?"
"It means she likes you."
I grinned and shrugged. "Super!"
... I played it off. But hee. I am a vital ensemble member. And I didn't even audition... she just picked me. And it's Christmas Music. Yay!
Posted at 09:19 pm by AoiHoshi