For Giggles

I found a few moments of giggles while doing homework. For my History of English Language homework, had to write a dialogue using Shakespearean  insults. For your enjoyment. 

*Please note that I do not hate men. I have been feeling rather feminist lately, however, and this is what happened. :)

Rosie: Would you mind loading the dishwasher for me?

Butch: No.

Rosie: Why not?

Butch: That’s a job for some spongy strumpet. Men don’t do dishes!

Rosie: You paunchy, ill-nurtured scut! You wouldn’t know how to wash a plate if your reeky, tickle-brained life depended on it!

Butch: Don’t go using big words on me, you puny elf-skinned harpy!

Rosie: Harpy? You wouldn’t know a harpy if it bit you on your goatish, half-faced ass!

Butch: Who are you calling goatish? At least I don’t look like a hedge-pig. You should thank your mother for that nose of yours!

Rosie: My mother tried to warn me! Don’t go marrying the worthless droning common-kissing codpiece that I thought I was in love with!

Butch: The only thing common I’ve kissed is you!

Rosie: And that dankish bettled-headed flax wench Missy!

Butch: That was a long time ago! You should be more respectful. Who goes to work every day, brings home the food for you to eat, pays the bills around here?

Rosie: You are such an artless doghearted boar-pig! Who cooks for you, cleans up after your rank milk-livered maggot-pie self? All I’m asking for is one load of dishes! Just one load! But no, that’s too much for your lumpish idle-headed puttock self image to handle.

Butch: I am not idle-headed! I have lots of good thoughts.

Rosie: The score of the last football game doesn’t count, you weedy folly-fallen measle. Do the dishes.

Looking for Moments

I am allowing myself the next 30 minutes to do something that isn't school or theatre related. Blog. Obviously doesn't happen very often.

I have such conflicting feelings that describe me right now. At times, I definitely feel like I'm drowning. Kind of a terrifying feeling. So much to do, I constantly ask myself when I'll have time to finish it.

But then, like a gift from God, there are moments when I feel like I'm conquering. They are brief, usually quite brief, but they exist. And that's enough to keep me going until the next glimmer of precious free moments arrive. Sometimes they are planned poems, sometimes they are escapes for ice cream, sometimes they are hugs, sometimes they are meals with friends. Luckily, they always come.

I keep telling people that Thanksgiving lulled us into a false sense of security, then slammed us with everything we had left to do in what I have deemed "the period of hell." The two weeks before finals week where everything is due and everyone is really busy. I rarely have a dead week (the week before finals), I almost always have a death week that almost kills me.

If it wasn't this, it'd be something else, I suppose.

The semester is coming to a close. 15 days until the end of finals. That's pretty scary. I only have a semester of classes left. I'm not ready for real life. College life is much easier.

But, we keep going. We don't have an option. But we do choose to keep looking for those glimmering moments of fresh air that makes everything possible again.

Until next time, look for your moments.

Sleepy Thanks

In my sleep deprived state, yawns sneaking past my lips, I am thankful for time.

Even though the time I have is often not used to the best potential (like spending 30 minutes last night listening to my friend read "Twilight in 15 Minutes." Coincidentally, it took longer than 15 minutes).

I am thankful that I have time at all. I have time to laugh with friends, time to write 10 minutes poems, time to talk, time to take trips, time to live, and eventually, time to sleep. It never seems like enough time, but I can't live my life in bed.

That isn't a life. That is hiding. I have seen too many people hiding away their lives under the covers. I would rather live, experience, and be sleep deprived than hide all day in my bed.

Until next time, wake up, be thankful.

City Training

Slowly, very slowly, I am becoming a city girl. Or at least a girl who longs for the city.

I just spent two days in Chicago attending the National Conference for Teachers of English. I have to admit that being in Chicago was the best part. There is something about the hustle and bustle that excites me. It probably helped that I didn't really have anywhere really vital to be, so I didn't have to hustle as much as those bustling around me.

Don't get me wrong, there were moments of small town girl that came out, often getting me in trouble. Like the time I almost got hit by a cab. That was exciting. Or when I directed a 16 year old the wrong direction when she was looking for the modern art museum. I knew it was on Michigan Ave, I just wasn't sure which direction. Hopefully she found it...

The conference itself was great. I learned about using multi-media and technology in the classroom (which, let's be honest, I knew already), about how to teach Shakespeare to students on their feet (which was great, I loved it), how to use creative writing in everyday literature classes (also great, but pretty self-explanatory), and how to address LGBT topics in the classroom (which are also pretty self-explanatory -- it's already being talked about, don't skirt around the topics. If anywhere, the classroom should be a safe, open place to learn and think through such topics).

Plus, book publishers really like giving teachers away free books  in hopes that we'll someday buy 60+ copies for our classroom use. Mom, I need another bookshelf at home. :D

Add that to going to see a really fabulous play about the Great Chicago Fire, seeing the city at night, eating fantastic Greek food, writing in the park, and having really wonderful impromptu converstaions with the women I went along with, it was a truly fantastic trip.

And I miss Chicago already.

I did however make it home in time to help strike the theatre's recent show and take a journey to Sioux City at 1:00 a.m. for a Perkins run with some lovely theatre people. Today I should really do some homework. We'll see how it goes.

Until next time.

Short Story Blah

I feel like all my creative writing juices went towards cranking out a 10 page short story draft tonight. After the third attempt at a story line, I finally found one I could see through to the end. The first one turned into a play. Not helpful when writing for a Narrative and Verse class.

I'm pretty okay with the story I ended up with. It's about sisters and quilts. We'll see where the revision process takes it.

This weekend has been wonderful. My friends Beckie and Emily who graduated last year came up to visit us. We went to a band concert, a play, watched movies, played games, and stayed up far too late. Found out the hide-abed in our apartment is not comfortable at all. They never are.

I should have done a lot more homework, but it didn't happen. Oh well. I don't know too much more. I'm sleepy, should go to bed. We'll see if it happens.

Until next time.

Agent for Beauty

Do you ever get so busy that you forget why you're doing these things? You know there is a purpose, you are working towards something, but what?

That's what this week has been for me. I have constantly been busy, but I kind of feel like a hamster on a wheel. I'm doing things, but I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere.

Most of my to do list this weekend have been for future projects, things I still have a week or more to do. No motivation to do them, there is no urgency yet. My theatre tasks are either dying down, stagnant, or haven't started. It is kind of frustrating. Constantly busy, but nothing to show for the work.

But I was reminded of a conversation I had with one of my English professors a few weeks ago. She was talking about one of her colleagues she's met along the way, Harold Heie. He complied a list of restorative values that are God's will for those who profess commitment to the Christian faith. The last one on the list is my favorite:

"God wills that Christians be agents for beauty, showing appreciation for beauty both in God's creation and in the artistic creation of humans, and fostering the further creation of such beauty."

What a lovely notion, to be an agent for beauty. Puts my tasks in perspective a bit. The historical research I'm doing is an aid for the audience that will see the show, see the beauty the ensemble has created. The behind the scenes planning and organizing that is happening on a small scale before rehearsals start will make the journey of beauty that the musical becomes run smoother. The poems and stories I'm writing and responding to are fostering beautiful words from learning writers. The unit plan I'm writing is gathering beauty and compiling texts to foster deep thinking and beautiful creations in a future classroom.

Makes my frustration lessen if only a bit. Gives me a bit of oomph to keep going, if only for another couple hours. What I am doing is considered beautiful, if only for the fact that I am working towards something I love.

Until next time, what beauty are you fostering?

Talking to Myself

There is romantic jazz music playing in my head. Or from the computer next to me. The joys of working into the early morning hours with the sound designer for the show we're working on. It's nice. Not staying up, but the music she's playing.

It is another late night for Hannah and me. Maybe someday we'll be able to sleep before 2 a.m. So far this week, it hasn't happened. Sadly, my body is adjusting to it, so I'm feeling pretty good. Discouraging, since we promised Isaiah that we'd be done by 2:00. Maybe my sleep deprivation will kick in by that point.

Hannah is talking to herself. She does that a lot. So do I. Maybe it keeps us sane. Or just makes us feel less...lonely? Confused? Sleepy? All the above, and many more, probably.

Last night Hannah told me that she likes listening to me read. I wasn't reading out loud. No, that would be far too normal. I was talking to my book, or what was happening in my book. Sounds about right.

Sometimes I worry that I talk to myself just because I like to hear myself talk. But, then I assure myself that if that was the case, I wouldn't be that worried about it.

I have whole conversations where I assure myself that I am in fact not conceded, insane, or ridiculous. But, because I have said conversations, I have a feeling the last two are being argued in vain. I guess I'm okay with being insane and ridiculous. Seems to be the growing trend around here. Tech weeks usually do that to theatre people.

I can't remember why I started this post. I probably shouldn't blog at 1 a.m. Note to self. Then again, my blogs may never have a real purpose anymore.

Loosing my mind...oh well...

Until next time.