Sometimes, my life is just a game of Six Degrees.

Sometimes, I suspect I have no common sense at all. (John agrees. Thanks, John.)

We're doing two runs of the show today and then have a combination design-production meeting, which is like saying that you're punching yourself in the stomach twice and then cutting off a limb. I'm going to miss my arm when I gnaw it off it complete and utter boredom during the two hour celebration of how much our designers are able to talk talk talk talk talk.

Homework is a myth.

HI JOHN.

So today I flew back to UC from home for the sheer joy of sitting through TWELVE HOURS of rehearsal. This is incredibly wonderful to begin with, but we added the thrill of me not actually being needed. AWESOME. I also only slept for five hours last night, which is my own fault, but going to bed before one should guarantee that I have a good night's sleep, really.

(See, John, this is quite boring.)

I also bought a copy of the 1970s Ian McKellen version of Edward II. I was afraid that it hadn't been worth the money. IT WAS. It's so derpy that I can't even. No words. No woooords. However, it's not the sort of thing I should have tried to watch on the plane because it looked like Elizabethan porn. Oops.

I'm not enjoying the third Reepley book. This is Not Okay, but really, I don't read Reepley for the random side characters. There is a vast dearth of Tome. I've read a good 50 pages and he's had maybe two, three scenes? Yeah, there's a reason neither aziraphizzle or I has finished it.

Apparently, Wallace Acton was in the Richard III that John and I didn't go to. FUCK MY LIFE.

It is almost five in the morning. I just finished the hair dye fic, actually known as the bleach fic, though that name tends to lead to conversations along the lines of:

Sophie: YOU'RE WRITING A BLEACH FIC?
Me: um.
Sophie: YOU'RE WRITING A BLEACH FIC?
Me: it's a Watchmen fic.
Sophie: ah
Me: with bleach in it.
Sophie: ok
Sophie: not a like
Sophie: shonen manga bleach
Me: NO.
Sophie: OK
Sophie: DUDE
Sophie: I CAPSLOCKED

Sophie capslocked. I try to prevent these things.

If you were expecting this to be about Thanksgiving, think again.

So after today's design run, I found a note on one of the risers. It said:

Bluff check to pretend to be paying attention
+2 situational bonus

There was much loling.

So it occurs to me that I am probably the only person ever to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead before seeing Hamlet. A teacher once said to a class I was in that anyone seeing Rosnguil would, of course, already know Hamlet's plot. I, uh, definitely didn't.

/worst theatregoer ever

I quoted Rudge in class today. It was necessary.

And then I checked out the film script from our library.

Dear sir,

Please stop being Irwin.

Love,
Dakin Tali

Ali is the best ever.

My friends have decided that tonight we are going to a) print out Uncyclopedia's Oscar Wilde quotes and tape them to people's doors like fortune cookies and b) do shots of sour Skittles. I weep for my unwritten Sosc paper.

Theatre moment of the day:
Our dramaturg: "Something really smells."
Some time later:
Our dramaturg opens the door.
Dramaturg: "SOMETHING REALLY SMELLS."
Actor: "Oh, sorry, those are my shoes."
Dramaturg walks out because of the HORRIBLE SMELL.
Actor goes to open the window.
Actor: "The princess can't stand my shoes."
Stage manager: "FFF. Yes."
Me: /writes this for her LJ

Also, our dramaturg says that there were twelfth century gay Muslim poets who were (and I quote) "hot shit." Um.

The director added spanking and hair grabbing to the not-exactly-gay-if-it's-cross-dressing-amirite? couple. Staging Rudy turning Hunter over his knee is. special.

OH, WOW, YOU JUST ADDED WRESTLING TO ONE OF THE OTHER COUPLE'S SCENES. Classy.

"You're going to take a martial arts class for the next five weeks." -Helen
"I have a purple belt!" -Colin

So there were these black paper cranes on the tables everywhere in one of the buildings with proverbs on them. Autumn picks one up. "It says, 'Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter.' What's that from? Shakespeare?" And I agree and Colin says that he thinks it's from Othello.

It's actually a Yoda quotation. Oops.

Dear week,

Please get worse.

Love,
Tali

So it occurs to me that I've never actually done this meme, so:

The problem with LJ: We all think we are so close, but really we know nothing about one another. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Ask away.

My Sosc. instructor is strung out and my calc. instructor is naively insane. My Greek professor is so holistic (read: grandfatherly and bemused) that the TA doesn't know what the next class will be on or what our quiz will look like. My hum class is so boring that it's barely worth mentioning. That's okay! I'll just throw three hours of my day at theatre, so at least, the workload will be CHALLENGING.

I feel as though, whenever I'm in school, I'm juggling and all my classes and extracurriculars are balls and I throw them all up in the air and somehow I always, always catch them. It's so unexciting.

In conclusion: time management is for stupid people.

remielle: is this subtext
inabathrobe: which subtext.
remielle: everything is subtext with you i hate you
inabathrobe: ilme2
inabathrobe: I don't thiiiink there was subtext?

My subtext is so far beneath the surface it's unconscious. I blame Mary Renault for turning subtext into a fine art. (Also, there was no subtext.)

I miss my books, which aren't coming for another week. I say this as though I would have time to read them if I had them. HA.

So Matt and I have decided that our Sosc. instructor (he's a grad student, not a professor) is always high in class. We both agree that this is extremely impressive. As Matt said, "If I were high, I couldn't teach a class! I would just let everyone out early."

I am not going to bed until two things happen:

-I finish book 10 of the Iliad.
-I finish the rewrite of this fic and POST THE SUCKER.

I am betting that only one of those will happen. And it's the one that involves Nestor fucking Hector's shit up.

Edit: Sophiiiie, you have some audiencing to do!

Thank you, washing machine, for mysteriously turning two of my favorite shirts PINK. At least, now I have a reason to go shopping this weekend.

Twice.

I just made flashcards for Greek prepositions. I know I am fucked because prepositions are my enemy in all languages. Ohgod.

"UT has a lot of liquor— feelings."

I'm in rehearsal (again), and I'm worrying about how much time I have. Hhhh. The stage manager is looking at her Netflix account. Hoboy. I can't wait till tomorrow when I actually get to do work. It's so frustrating sitting around because I can't cite the Iliad to write my reading journal on it. Oi. Not that I don't have another 70 pages of it that I should read before I write it.

The director just stole my shoes to use as a prop, so one of the characters can spit-shine them.