Treeful of monkeys
Mar. 25th, 2003 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenIn the morning, sitting in the classroom - that is, me, Becca, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_detroit and a whole bunch of people milling around - we got to talking about careers and stuff, and sixth form and A-levels and all that other stuff. Becca wants to do drama in some form. Emma wants to be a journalist. Well, she doesn't. She wants to do something to make money so eventually she can live off guitar-playing. I'm the one who wants to be a journalist. Really, really, really does. I know I'll end up being a doctor... but meh. Anyway. For some reason, after talking about the subject, it seemed like an excellent idea to pick up my notebook and throw it at the wall, hard. After a moment, I threw my anthology too, a pencil and that green pen I like. All my stuff slithered down the "Das Bin Ich" wall display and splattered onto the floor. Becca and Emma picked it up for me and we all ambled off to English.
The essay was a non-starter. For some reason no-one knew what the essay question was, so I ended up revising Chemistry - a good idea in hindsight, and I actually did it, rather than stare into space thinking about doing it. After that came Drama, of course, and I now have a letter detailing everything we're going to be doing in London. Of course, my French oral will be on May 8th if we're leaving on the 9th, which we are. Ugh.
Beyond talking about that, we went to do our devised piece, and once again the hall was not free. It was full of some upper four people and their sixth formers doing Robin Hood for the drama festival. We were perched up in the gallery, trying to start our own rehearsal in about a metre squared of space, when they had the fucking nerve to tell us to be quiet. Mr Dunne suggested we go into the soundbox. So we went up there and began. Saria was there too, as prompter person. After a moment, one of the sixth formers came up, didn't say a word, merely slammed the door shut on us. Cue an outbreak of understandable pissed-offed-ness. The soundbox, being a soundbox, is sound-proof, so they couldn't hear us, but they could see what gestures were being made through the windows. They were all very rude, particularly as what we were doing was many times more important than what they were doing. Of course. Every so often, Becca would open the door and let some sound drift through and annoy them. The first time, she was singing Fuck Her Gently into ahatstandmicrophone - "You gotta fuck her, discreeeeeeeeetly....." and the second time, she wasn't doing anything, so I yelled, "You're all fucking gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide!" which may not have achieved anything but made me feel better.
Turned out Yusra's sister was in the play they were doing. "Who does she play?" I asked.
"Achoo."
"A shoe?" I asked.
"No, Achoo!"
"A who?"
"Achoo!"
"A Jew?"
"A who?"
"Achoo!"
"Who?"
"Achoo!" she yelled. "Her parents are Mr and Mrs Sneeze, so she's called Achoo!"
"Oooh..."
Call me misguided, but I'm suddenly not so sure it is Robin Hood they're doing, after all.
After that little interlude came a wonderful Chemistry test which I have not failed. Really not. I was surprised. Followed of course by Classics and an hour of Hollinghurst on Pompeiian decoration and furnishings. Ugh.
Had to stay after school for French presentation thingit, which she was really very nice about. I hated the woman two years ago, but she's really grown on me since then. She does have a sense of humour, contrary to what I used to believe, it's just very well hidden. She does try to tell jokes sometimes. Caroline claims I once told her she should inject more humour into her jokes, and she (Caroline, that is) found it extremely funny. Can't say I really remember this.
Got the train home, bought a Kinder Bueno (they're not fattening, they're mostly air!) and walked home. And that is all. Oh, yes... got back my Avril Lavigne CD. Must remember to give the Calling one back to Danni tomorrow.
_detroit and a whole bunch of people milling around - we got to talking about careers and stuff, and sixth form and A-levels and all that other stuff. Becca wants to do drama in some form. Emma wants to be a journalist. Well, she doesn't. She wants to do something to make money so eventually she can live off guitar-playing. I'm the one who wants to be a journalist. Really, really, really does. I know I'll end up being a doctor... but meh. Anyway. For some reason, after talking about the subject, it seemed like an excellent idea to pick up my notebook and throw it at the wall, hard. After a moment, I threw my anthology too, a pencil and that green pen I like. All my stuff slithered down the "Das Bin Ich" wall display and splattered onto the floor. Becca and Emma picked it up for me and we all ambled off to English.The essay was a non-starter. For some reason no-one knew what the essay question was, so I ended up revising Chemistry - a good idea in hindsight, and I actually did it, rather than stare into space thinking about doing it. After that came Drama, of course, and I now have a letter detailing everything we're going to be doing in London. Of course, my French oral will be on May 8th if we're leaving on the 9th, which we are. Ugh.
Beyond talking about that, we went to do our devised piece, and once again the hall was not free. It was full of some upper four people and their sixth formers doing Robin Hood for the drama festival. We were perched up in the gallery, trying to start our own rehearsal in about a metre squared of space, when they had the fucking nerve to tell us to be quiet. Mr Dunne suggested we go into the soundbox. So we went up there and began. Saria was there too, as prompter person. After a moment, one of the sixth formers came up, didn't say a word, merely slammed the door shut on us. Cue an outbreak of understandable pissed-offed-ness. The soundbox, being a soundbox, is sound-proof, so they couldn't hear us, but they could see what gestures were being made through the windows. They were all very rude, particularly as what we were doing was many times more important than what they were doing. Of course. Every so often, Becca would open the door and let some sound drift through and annoy them. The first time, she was singing Fuck Her Gently into a
Turned out Yusra's sister was in the play they were doing. "Who does she play?" I asked.
"Achoo."
"A shoe?" I asked.
"No, Achoo!"
"A who?"
"Achoo!"
"A Jew?"
"A who?"
"Achoo!"
"Who?"
"Achoo!" she yelled. "Her parents are Mr and Mrs Sneeze, so she's called Achoo!"
"Oooh..."
Call me misguided, but I'm suddenly not so sure it is Robin Hood they're doing, after all.
After that little interlude came a wonderful Chemistry test which I have not failed. Really not. I was surprised. Followed of course by Classics and an hour of Hollinghurst on Pompeiian decoration and furnishings. Ugh.
Had to stay after school for French presentation thingit, which she was really very nice about. I hated the woman two years ago, but she's really grown on me since then. She does have a sense of humour, contrary to what I used to believe, it's just very well hidden. She does try to tell jokes sometimes. Caroline claims I once told her she should inject more humour into her jokes, and she (Caroline, that is) found it extremely funny. Can't say I really remember this.
Got the train home, bought a Kinder Bueno (they're not fattening, they're mostly air!) and walked home. And that is all. Oh, yes... got back my Avril Lavigne CD. Must remember to give the Calling one back to Danni tomorrow.
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no subject
on 2003-03-25 11:01 am (UTC)It's funny seeing as how the servant to Robin Hood is blind and then falls out of the watchtower and goes 'I can see I can see!' before promptly running into a tree and going 'nevermind'.
Re:
on 2003-03-25 01:22 pm (UTC)Wish we got to see the plays.