I know it's only been a few days since my last post, but I have a lot of things to say.
Today was the first day of class and since none of my professors or TAs took part in the Walkout, I had class all day. My section for English 10 (Lit) was cool. My TA's favorite show is Glee, he's from Albany, NY, and he was very interested in the fact that I'm a theater major. He kept asking if I would be in Rabbit Hole since we're reading it in class and are supposed to attend a performance.
This brings me to my next class, Fundamentals of Acting (THTR15A). Anne Torsiglieri, my teacher and a Broadway vet (although she did not talk about her past work in class) is just great. She's engaging and makes me feel at ease. However, I felt like I was holding myself back in class today, which I need to learn not to do. I was nervous, okay? And the exercises we did were weird and uncomfortable, which is what they were supposed to be. But it was only the first class and things will change. "Everything changes" is the thing I hear most from older BFAers.
One of the activities was writing about ourselves in a stream of consciousness. I was so not ready for that, and the end product was ridiculous. After I re-read it, I felt like it did a great job of showing how confused I am about life right now, but other than that it was just terrible. Not a good portrait of me at all. Not a full, correct portrait, rather. Maybe I'll tack it on to the end. Maybe.
Because I was placed into the later acting class, I have to rush to my English 10 class, halfway across campus every Tuesday and Thursday. Not liking this. I don't have time to relax or debrief my mind. It's tough, okay? So, my freakin' English 10 class was so terrible. I think I'll like the class, but I sat through it thoroughly pissed off. Here's why:
The prof is having us buy $192.80 worth of books for this quarter already, and she was going to have the other readings available online. However, she asked the class to vote on whether they wanted a reader to purchase instead. We voted with iClickers, and it was very close, with online winning. THEN she let us discuss it. About six people said we should have readers for reasons such as:
"I like to take notes and mark up my readings."
"If people want to print out the pages, it will cost a lot in ink and paper."
"If people printed, it would waste trees."
"Staring at the computer for a long time makes your eyes hurt."
"You get distracted if you read online by things like Facebook."
Apparently, these STUPID ASS FUCKING CONCERNS actually convinced people. The second vote had readers winning by a landslide. So we'll have to buy another $35 thing to buy for this fucking class now. It was the first time I realized how many rich people go here. I had been told that SB had the richest kids in the UC system, but also the poorest. Well, English majors must be fucking rich as fuck. I'm not about to drop 250 bucks on this class. Sorry. And you can't resell readers. Fuck that shit.
So that was my day, not including a de-stressing dinner with Maggie, the DA application info session, and currently watching the premier of Grey's. Not liking it so far. Maybe there was a REASON I stopped watching last season after the first thirty minutes.
Anyway, I'm really tired right now and my head feels super heavy because of that. I'm going to try to relax. No classes tomorrow, but I do have the Theater/Dance Convocation! Oh and Stephen Schwartz, composer/lyricist of Wicked, Godspell, and Pippin is doing a private Q&A with BFAers next weekend. Any questions I should ask for you all?
-Big D
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Replace "Rhiannon" with the word "Depression." I do it all the time.
I have a lot on my mind. I'll throw the most interesting bits out there first for those of you who like to read the first sentence and close the tab:
1.) I have a hypothesis that when you have to pee, your body will release less pee (you will pee for a shorter amount of time) when the bathroom you have to walk to is further away. I've tried to research this on the Internet, but it seems like no one else is really concerned with it. When I was at school all last year, I generally took ten seconds to get it all out. When I am home, it's more like 20 or 30. The bathroom at school was clear down the hall and around the corner. At my house, it's steps away.
2.) Unlike my coworker Matt, I don't hate everything about community bathrooms. However, my one big thing is pooping in them. Especially when you are an RA. I'm sure Hitler never pooped in the same room as someone washing their hands or sitting "next door". Not that I'm comparing my RAing to Hitler, but the power is what I'm talking about. Whenever I was too lazy to ride the elevator down seven stories to the first floor usually vacant bathrooms, or too embarrassed to walk through the lobby and past the Desk Attendant thereby letting them see that the only reason I was in the lobby was to use the bathroom for longer than a minute which equals pooping... I would use my own 7th floor community bathroom and, as I ended up calling it, "pop, lock and drop it." Get the job done in the quickest amount of time possible. I hated when someone would walk in and just stay there so you couldn't outwait them.
I've been feeling creative recently. I stopped writing the play based on my extended family after some tragedies sort of cut that ribbon, but I've discovered something that might compel me to open up that file again. Maybe Cougar.
My roommate sounds nice. I talked to him on the phone the other day. He's a 5th year senior, but that's only because he transferred in. I don't know any transfers who won't be 5th years unless y'all aren't telling me. Anyway, he's leaving after the Winter, and he thinks I'll have the room to myself for Spring. I told him about the 500 triples they have this year, but he said his friend last year had a double to himself for both Winter and Spring. Odd.
I'm going back tomorrow- today. My train leaves at noon, leaving here at 9. I've lost my fucking debit cards for Sun Community and Wells Fargo. No activity shows up on either account online so they must be here somewhere. I scoured the house and cars, though and found nothing. A cleaning lady came two days after I got here, but she said she never saw them. Oh well. Calling Sun Community tomorrow.
Thursday is the first day of school and I will start the BuFAh. Scary but exciting shit. I'm psyched to meet Anne Torsiglieri, the new acting teacher who's done some amazing work on Broadway. I wonder if Irwin and her are from the same Princeton/Julliard classes?
Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll cut it off now. My mom asked if I felt sad going back at all. My answer was that I felt "like when you have a bad headache but there is no headache." The annoyance, the nervousness, need for progression. Weird I know.
-Big D
1.) I have a hypothesis that when you have to pee, your body will release less pee (you will pee for a shorter amount of time) when the bathroom you have to walk to is further away. I've tried to research this on the Internet, but it seems like no one else is really concerned with it. When I was at school all last year, I generally took ten seconds to get it all out. When I am home, it's more like 20 or 30. The bathroom at school was clear down the hall and around the corner. At my house, it's steps away.
2.) Unlike my coworker Matt, I don't hate everything about community bathrooms. However, my one big thing is pooping in them. Especially when you are an RA. I'm sure Hitler never pooped in the same room as someone washing their hands or sitting "next door". Not that I'm comparing my RAing to Hitler, but the power is what I'm talking about. Whenever I was too lazy to ride the elevator down seven stories to the first floor usually vacant bathrooms, or too embarrassed to walk through the lobby and past the Desk Attendant thereby letting them see that the only reason I was in the lobby was to use the bathroom for longer than a minute which equals pooping... I would use my own 7th floor community bathroom and, as I ended up calling it, "pop, lock and drop it." Get the job done in the quickest amount of time possible. I hated when someone would walk in and just stay there so you couldn't outwait them.
I've been feeling creative recently. I stopped writing the play based on my extended family after some tragedies sort of cut that ribbon, but I've discovered something that might compel me to open up that file again. Maybe Cougar.
My roommate sounds nice. I talked to him on the phone the other day. He's a 5th year senior, but that's only because he transferred in. I don't know any transfers who won't be 5th years unless y'all aren't telling me. Anyway, he's leaving after the Winter, and he thinks I'll have the room to myself for Spring. I told him about the 500 triples they have this year, but he said his friend last year had a double to himself for both Winter and Spring. Odd.
I'm going back tomorrow- today. My train leaves at noon, leaving here at 9. I've lost my fucking debit cards for Sun Community and Wells Fargo. No activity shows up on either account online so they must be here somewhere. I scoured the house and cars, though and found nothing. A cleaning lady came two days after I got here, but she said she never saw them. Oh well. Calling Sun Community tomorrow.
Thursday is the first day of school and I will start the BuFAh. Scary but exciting shit. I'm psyched to meet Anne Torsiglieri, the new acting teacher who's done some amazing work on Broadway. I wonder if Irwin and her are from the same Princeton/Julliard classes?
Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll cut it off now. My mom asked if I felt sad going back at all. My answer was that I felt "like when you have a bad headache but there is no headache." The annoyance, the nervousness, need for progression. Weird I know.
-Big D
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Pissed Off Quickie
A lot has gone on since I last blogged, but I'm not in the mood right now. I just need to say a few things...
Michael Navarro: You are a pathetic pussy bitchface motherfucker whose balls should be roughly slid against a cheese grater until they are fucking GONE. Where the fuck do you get off writing that shit in my year book? Asshole! If I'd have known at the time I would have called you out right in the middle of Whitehead's classroom of evangelical conservative cow dung and ripped your fucking head off. I don't even know where the shit you're going to school, but if it IS UCLA, I hope you trip and tumble all the way down those big ass steps by Bruin Walk. I hope you get eaten alive by the baby squirrels. I hope someone hangs you from the top of Dykstra. You fucking fatass babyfaced cock choking ASS SHIT! The next time I see you in town, at the donut shop, jack in the crack, von's, wal mart, wherever the FUCK you like to be, I'll make sure to rape you with my words so badly that you'll want to press charges. I hate you for pulling that shit. How dare you. How DARE you.
-Big D
PS: I know... this post is SO not inclusive. You'll learn what that is in my next entry. Good night, y'all!
Michael Navarro: You are a pathetic pussy bitchface motherfucker whose balls should be roughly slid against a cheese grater until they are fucking GONE. Where the fuck do you get off writing that shit in my year book? Asshole! If I'd have known at the time I would have called you out right in the middle of Whitehead's classroom of evangelical conservative cow dung and ripped your fucking head off. I don't even know where the shit you're going to school, but if it IS UCLA, I hope you trip and tumble all the way down those big ass steps by Bruin Walk. I hope you get eaten alive by the baby squirrels. I hope someone hangs you from the top of Dykstra. You fucking fatass babyfaced cock choking ASS SHIT! The next time I see you in town, at the donut shop, jack in the crack, von's, wal mart, wherever the FUCK you like to be, I'll make sure to rape you with my words so badly that you'll want to press charges. I hate you for pulling that shit. How dare you. How DARE you.
-Big D
PS: I know... this post is SO not inclusive. You'll learn what that is in my next entry. Good night, y'all!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
That Little Pink Plus Sign is So Un-holy
Sam business over.
I'm a drama queen.
I love my head staff.
I'm okay.
:-)
-Big D
I'm a drama queen.
I love my head staff.
I'm okay.
:-)
-Big D
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Watching Myself
I did something really fucked up today/yesterday.
Some may disagree.
I feel like I used the memory of Samantha Brown.
It was during an activity for FSSP RA training where we were supposed to describe a situation in which we could have helped someone but we didn't. I knew that Sam's death wasn't what they were looking for but I couldn't get it out of my head. I should have just fucking passed but I didn't. So I told about how she kicked my chair in trial and maybe whispered my name before going silent for a while and then seizing. I told about how I felt guilty that I didn't turn around. And then I added as a side note that she later died and I felt guilty again.
I should not have used her like that. It was so awful of me and I hated myself for it immediately after speaking. The tears came fast. Tears for missing her which I do often, and tears for abusing her like that. I used her. Sure I didn't have anything to say but I could have PASSED. It would not have been that hard. I don't want to be thought of as the attention seeker and I don't want people to think I'm troubled or anything. I just feel terrible. It was so inappropriate.
I'm gonna talk to a head staff member about it and just... talk it through. I mean, I didn't even mention how great of friends we were. I can't fucking believe myself. I wiped like my eyes were my ass and dried up before I had to speak again, but they just kept coming back every few minutes. I felt all that guilt again.
Why did I think I could talk about her in my One Man Show in high school? The things we learn when we get older. Two quotes come to mind:
Scraping knees, tying shoes,
Starting school, paying dues,
Finding there's no way
We can spend a lifetime playing ball
Part of getting tall
Bittersweet and strange
Finding you can change
Learning you were wrong
Sorry Sam. By the way, sorry I didn't think too much about you on the 11th. My birthday has become the time of death. You're just part of a growing list. But you're up there with the best. You are one of the best. You were the best.
Fucking poetic flowery shit.
I miss you.
-Big D.
Some may disagree.
I feel like I used the memory of Samantha Brown.
It was during an activity for FSSP RA training where we were supposed to describe a situation in which we could have helped someone but we didn't. I knew that Sam's death wasn't what they were looking for but I couldn't get it out of my head. I should have just fucking passed but I didn't. So I told about how she kicked my chair in trial and maybe whispered my name before going silent for a while and then seizing. I told about how I felt guilty that I didn't turn around. And then I added as a side note that she later died and I felt guilty again.
I should not have used her like that. It was so awful of me and I hated myself for it immediately after speaking. The tears came fast. Tears for missing her which I do often, and tears for abusing her like that. I used her. Sure I didn't have anything to say but I could have PASSED. It would not have been that hard. I don't want to be thought of as the attention seeker and I don't want people to think I'm troubled or anything. I just feel terrible. It was so inappropriate.
I'm gonna talk to a head staff member about it and just... talk it through. I mean, I didn't even mention how great of friends we were. I can't fucking believe myself. I wiped like my eyes were my ass and dried up before I had to speak again, but they just kept coming back every few minutes. I felt all that guilt again.
Why did I think I could talk about her in my One Man Show in high school? The things we learn when we get older. Two quotes come to mind:
Scraping knees, tying shoes,
Starting school, paying dues,
Finding there's no way
We can spend a lifetime playing ball
Part of getting tall
Bittersweet and strange
Finding you can change
Learning you were wrong
Sorry Sam. By the way, sorry I didn't think too much about you on the 11th. My birthday has become the time of death. You're just part of a growing list. But you're up there with the best. You are one of the best. You were the best.
Fucking poetic flowery shit.
I miss you.
-Big D.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Can't think of a title... [title-of-blog]
Earlier I felt a lot like blogging and now I only feel like 5% of that, but here goes.
I'm going to explain why I've been feeling so crappy. By the way, I've been feeling crappy.
For those of you who don't know, my uncle Clay died of some heart related issue, probably a massive heart attack or clot or something. He was in San Diego enjoying a wonderful dinner with his family and friends and went to the bathroom not feeling ill at all. He never came back. This was on July 3rd. My dad and I rushed up to San Diego to comfort my Aunt and my two cousins Carson and Ciara, bringing along my grandmother for... something. Just kidding. She was there for support too. Sorry... I just got back from a terrible trip across the country with her about a month ago and I'm still reeling.
So, I spent two nights in San Diego with the family, helping them grieve, grieving myself, and all that. He was cremated and the memorial service was held Saturday the 11th. Before that, on July 8th, the mother of two very good friends of mine succumbed to cancer after something like six or eight years of battle. Her service was held Monday the 13th. Let's not even start listing the celebrity deaths going on right now... or shall we? Billy, Michael, Farrah, Harve... lots and lots. They don't have much to do with this but I'm trying to show you something.
My birthday is July 13th. Yeah, so I had tragedy fucking me in the ass that whole time and it was just such an inconvenience. My family had to keep it in mind while picking funeral dates and I couldn't escape "It's your birthday!" from those at Cancer Mom's service. Names are being protected. This isn't about any of those comments though... I dearly love both of those daughters and I feel terrible for my cousins and aunt.
Here it goes. People die around my birthday.
Since I was born, I have regarded Friday the 13th as a lucky day. It's my day. Fuck all those unlucky bastards. But two years ago on July 11th, one of my closest friends passed away. I talked about her previously. Sam meant so much to me. Anyway, then comes Clay and Cancer Mom, along with my dog Spicer(oni) about 7 years ago, and all these celebrities. It just seems like shitty shit happens on my birthday. I don't know what to make of it. I know it's just coincidence but I've had a lot of crappy birthdays since I popped out of my momma's cave of wonders. Anyway... enough of this.
I just found out one of my very good friends won't be coming back to school in the fall. No, she's not dead, thank goodness. And she's a reader, oddly enough. However, she has a plan for success that I know can't be stopped and I'm very excited for her.
Then I found out that Jason, also mentioned previously, may not be coming back. He's got plans too, and both of them are probably a lot smarter than me, but it's sad to think that 2 close friends are not going to be eating with me every Tuesday night.
What is weird is that I didn't know who to turn to when I needed to talk to someone about all of these things. Alex is unreachable in the Coachella Valley and I'm not about to txt thousands of words about how I feel. Alanna (I know you're reading. Take this lightly.) was probably napping. Christie is busy counseling it up in LA and she hasn't been on AIM. Carson is dealing with so much shit right now I'd feel stupid telling him this. I have no other really close friends here. I'm not in SB so I can't get drunk and purge my feelings out to a stranger. My SB peeps are definitely face-to-face people. And those two people are off the list because they're partially the reason for this sadness. I'm not about to tell my mom... come on. Why is the internet where I have to turn? I might just rather let my sadness boil inside me instead of posting it for the world to ignore.
So yes. I'm sad. And to tell you the truth, I think my two friends are braver than I am.
I get back to SB Saturday. I can't wait to see you all. Miguel, Emily, Laura, Gabbywaggles, all my Urinetown hearties, and everyone else who is there. I miss you all very very much.
I'm a little scared.
Onto the next topic: FSSP. I'm very excited to get up there and start training for my awesome summer adventure. Sunday night we're playing laser tag outside!
I'm nervous for the program in the fall. I'm nervous for Spanish in the summer. OMG 2 weeks. I'm nervous for moving in with yet another goddamn roommate I don't know. I'm nervous that I'll be eating a lot of meals alone. Takeout is a bitch and it's only on weekdays.
-Big D.
I'm going to explain why I've been feeling so crappy. By the way, I've been feeling crappy.
For those of you who don't know, my uncle Clay died of some heart related issue, probably a massive heart attack or clot or something. He was in San Diego enjoying a wonderful dinner with his family and friends and went to the bathroom not feeling ill at all. He never came back. This was on July 3rd. My dad and I rushed up to San Diego to comfort my Aunt and my two cousins Carson and Ciara, bringing along my grandmother for... something. Just kidding. She was there for support too. Sorry... I just got back from a terrible trip across the country with her about a month ago and I'm still reeling.
So, I spent two nights in San Diego with the family, helping them grieve, grieving myself, and all that. He was cremated and the memorial service was held Saturday the 11th. Before that, on July 8th, the mother of two very good friends of mine succumbed to cancer after something like six or eight years of battle. Her service was held Monday the 13th. Let's not even start listing the celebrity deaths going on right now... or shall we? Billy, Michael, Farrah, Harve... lots and lots. They don't have much to do with this but I'm trying to show you something.
My birthday is July 13th. Yeah, so I had tragedy fucking me in the ass that whole time and it was just such an inconvenience. My family had to keep it in mind while picking funeral dates and I couldn't escape "It's your birthday!" from those at Cancer Mom's service. Names are being protected. This isn't about any of those comments though... I dearly love both of those daughters and I feel terrible for my cousins and aunt.
Here it goes. People die around my birthday.
Since I was born, I have regarded Friday the 13th as a lucky day. It's my day. Fuck all those unlucky bastards. But two years ago on July 11th, one of my closest friends passed away. I talked about her previously. Sam meant so much to me. Anyway, then comes Clay and Cancer Mom, along with my dog Spicer(oni) about 7 years ago, and all these celebrities. It just seems like shitty shit happens on my birthday. I don't know what to make of it. I know it's just coincidence but I've had a lot of crappy birthdays since I popped out of my momma's cave of wonders. Anyway... enough of this.
I just found out one of my very good friends won't be coming back to school in the fall. No, she's not dead, thank goodness. And she's a reader, oddly enough. However, she has a plan for success that I know can't be stopped and I'm very excited for her.
Then I found out that Jason, also mentioned previously, may not be coming back. He's got plans too, and both of them are probably a lot smarter than me, but it's sad to think that 2 close friends are not going to be eating with me every Tuesday night.
What is weird is that I didn't know who to turn to when I needed to talk to someone about all of these things. Alex is unreachable in the Coachella Valley and I'm not about to txt thousands of words about how I feel. Alanna (I know you're reading. Take this lightly.) was probably napping. Christie is busy counseling it up in LA and she hasn't been on AIM. Carson is dealing with so much shit right now I'd feel stupid telling him this. I have no other really close friends here. I'm not in SB so I can't get drunk and purge my feelings out to a stranger. My SB peeps are definitely face-to-face people. And those two people are off the list because they're partially the reason for this sadness. I'm not about to tell my mom... come on. Why is the internet where I have to turn? I might just rather let my sadness boil inside me instead of posting it for the world to ignore.
So yes. I'm sad. And to tell you the truth, I think my two friends are braver than I am.
I get back to SB Saturday. I can't wait to see you all. Miguel, Emily, Laura, Gabbywaggles, all my Urinetown hearties, and everyone else who is there. I miss you all very very much.
I'm a little scared.
Onto the next topic: FSSP. I'm very excited to get up there and start training for my awesome summer adventure. Sunday night we're playing laser tag outside!
I'm nervous for the program in the fall. I'm nervous for Spanish in the summer. OMG 2 weeks. I'm nervous for moving in with yet another goddamn roommate I don't know. I'm nervous that I'll be eating a lot of meals alone. Takeout is a bitch and it's only on weekdays.
-Big D.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Get Me Outta Here
Currently, there is an air of air of promise floating around my bedroom. This morning I woke up feeling fresh and excited for the day. Sure, this week has sucked, but I wasn't thinking about the bad. I was happy because my dad hadn't come in to make his morning phone calls while sitting in front of the computer which just happens to be in my room. I had lost no sleep. So I woke up, showered and dressed, feeling sexylicious in a smaller shirt size than I've been buying since I've lost +/- 15 pounds this year, and headed off to the hospital where I ate lunch with my mom and the other nursery nurses. Nice. Pleasant.
Then I drove home and when I turned into Ridge Park and attempted to cross over that huge hump that looks like a ghetto 20 foot long Rodeo Drive, I lost accelerator power. I coasted half way down the street before I lost power steering and then came to a slow stop to side of the road in front of a neighbor's driveway. Thinking I could have been out of fuel (the excursion is always close to empty and there's no telling what the fuel gauge will say) I walked down the street to grab the 5 gallon tank of diesel we have in our garage. I fueled the car and tried to start... no go. It's out of oil. No oil at all. Em-T. Yeah.
So my mom came and steered while I pushed that damn thing out of the way of the driveway in the 110 degree sun. Now I'm home and I can't wait to leave. The excursion is waiting for oil from my dad halfway down the street.
Anyway, the air of promise from earlier today is coming back now. I've had a really lame 2 hours but things are getting a little better. Still... I need to get out of here.
Then I drove home and when I turned into Ridge Park and attempted to cross over that huge hump that looks like a ghetto 20 foot long Rodeo Drive, I lost accelerator power. I coasted half way down the street before I lost power steering and then came to a slow stop to side of the road in front of a neighbor's driveway. Thinking I could have been out of fuel (the excursion is always close to empty and there's no telling what the fuel gauge will say) I walked down the street to grab the 5 gallon tank of diesel we have in our garage. I fueled the car and tried to start... no go. It's out of oil. No oil at all. Em-T. Yeah.
So my mom came and steered while I pushed that damn thing out of the way of the driveway in the 110 degree sun. Now I'm home and I can't wait to leave. The excursion is waiting for oil from my dad halfway down the street.
Anyway, the air of promise from earlier today is coming back now. I've had a really lame 2 hours but things are getting a little better. Still... I need to get out of here.
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