With a word count of over 3000 on my novel and Stop Kiss opening tomorrow night, I'm sure I should be thrilled. However, I'm too much of a realist for that. ;) Rather than being thrilled about my word count, still 2000 short of where it should be today, or tickled about the upcoming play that so many of my friends are involved in, I'm just taking things one day at a time, doing what I need to do and collapsing afterward.
The time change on Sunday has everybody out of whack, I'm sure. I've been tired most of the afternoon/evening, felt like I was slogging through Jello, and almost fell asleep on the drive home - thank God for the power of Green Day on full blast. I'm a little nervous about this fatigue since some kind of bug has been circulating the theater department. Today, in the green room, we discussed the high probability that some sickness or other will strike right around West Side Story, the first production of next semester. With such a large cast spending so much time together in rehearsals, it's practically guaranteed. We managed to avoid any cast-wide cold/flu epidemics during Godspell, though a lot of the crew took sick. Then again, Godspell only had a nine person cast. West Side's cast will surely contain half the department!
After discussing the upcoming possibility of illness, we got onto another of our odd subjects of conversation. Fairly often, whomever is in the green room will start up some deep conversation that will often turn into a debate. Abortion, same sex marriage, spousal/child abuse, I'm pretty sure we've covered a lot of the biggies. Why? No idea. Maybe we're proving to ourselves that we can be intellectual and artistic at the same time? Lol. Today's topic shifted between theater majors - how we decided to do this, what we said to convince our parents we weren't selling our futures, etc. and homosexuals. I didn't have a huge argument or anything of the sort with my parents about my theater major. Then again, it is only a part of my degree. Still, it makes me very grateful to have understanding parents who are willing to let me spread my wings without them and discover what I want in life. Some of my friends aren't so lucky.
The homosexuality subject was one I joined in on readily, sitting and siding with two of the four gay students in our department. We, of course, made simple anti-homophobic comments based on our own experiences. It was pointed out that acts, not people, are homosexual and nobody would chose to be homosexual. As a resident of a very small town in Central Texas, I've never been able to stand up and say "this is who I am and proud to be." To do such a thing in high school would've earned me nothing but daily beatings from my peers. Now, in college, most in this two mile by two mile town know I'm gay, though I don't often admit to it if asked. It's not a lack of pride; it's self-preservation. Now that I'm in college, my view has changed to the truth as I see it: my sexuality is nobody's business but mine. Today's green room discussion, like so many, ended in a sort of stale-mate as people had to depart for class. I myself had a Spanish test which I feel I passed.
To completely jump subjects, I had an excellent weekend, despite the dragging day that was Tech. On Sunday, I went with my Mom, Stepdad, Dad, and adorable two year old half-sister (whose world revolves around me, quite appropriately) to the cemetery walk. I knew two of the performers, pictures of whom will come later, and felt that my monologue was the best of the bunch. Of course, before everything started, I got a little shaken as I realized a terrifying truth: I didn't remember writing the monologue. I knew, knew, knew I had turned it in, but for the life of me couldn't remember writing a word! Checking my laptop's files put me in a further state of worry and panic. I couldn't find a complete copy of said monologue. Did I finish it? Of course I did. After all, if I hadn't finished it, they would've handed it back and let me know I had left out the murder of my character. Kind of an important detail since it's what he's known for.
As it turned out, though I never did recognize any of the delivered monologue as belonging or not belonging to me, the actor who delivered it had taken the time to do research on the part and had edited the manuscript to add in the things he'd learned. He seemed so worried, apologizing for changing my writing. I just smiled and reassured him that it was beyond fine and he'd done a wonderful job.
Enough yammering for now. I'll post pics of the cemetery walk this week. time to work on my novel and finish studying for an English test.
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