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A smell of petroleum prevails throughout.
Dec. 3rd, 2002 05:31 pmToday began in surreal fashion, as it nearly always does. I surfaced at seven thirty with the feeling I'd been about to discover the meaning of life in my dreams, but the moment before I opened the envelope, the alarm went off. I guess it's all for the best. If I had discovered the meaning of life this morning, then what would have been the point of carrying on living?
(I think it was Bertrand Russell who discovered the secret of the universe while under the influence of nitrous oxide. It was: "A smell of petroleum prevails throughout.")
The day continued in surreal fashion. Mme Mistry came in during registration, looking for someone willing to swap their French oral for nine fifteen this morning. Mrs Williams gave a beautific smile and volunteered me. I believe my exact words were: "No, no, no, no, no and again no."
Mme Mistry looked startled and then said she couldn't take me anyway, because she doesn't teach me. For obvious reasons all attention was suddenly on Becca. "Please," Mme Mistry said to her. "Please, Rebecca."
Becca shook her head violently. "No!"
"Please! I will be very nice!"
"Oh, yeah, you'll be so nice when I fail!"
"Please!"
Becca finally came round to the idea after ten minutes of this. "You have to be so nice, and ask me the easiest questions from the easiest topics..." she said.
"But of course!"
"And let me do it tomorrow if I make a mess of it!"
"Yes! Thank you!" she cried, the relief so evident, and Becca retreated into a corner to revise with a stunned what-the-fuck-have-I-done look on her face.
So she departed for the Modern Languages' version of hell, while I went to my next instalment of general studies. I'm not on private study any more, and more's the pity. It was dance, and I didn't want to do it, not at all. However, it proved rather intriguing. We ended up watching an old video of people jitterbugging in the Thirties, and after we saw a guy throw his partner into the air, Ella got a strange look in her eyes. "Iona..." she began.
Well, it wasn't as if I needed any second bidding. She stood, facing me, hands outstretched. I eyed up the distance and moved forwards. If there's one thing I can do, it's fall; a lifetime of weak ankles and a non-existent sense of balance has given me the ability to fall easily without hurting myself, so I wasn't afraid, just nervous, which are not the same thing. Like I said, I eyed up the distance and moved forwards.
I'll admit the first few times we did it were a bit crap. But we tried showing Mrs Dickinson, and for once, it was flawless. I ran forwards, turned round, placed my hands on Ella's, and for once we both timed the spring exactly right. She pushed me up as I jumped, and for a moment I was high above her head, flying.
The other move we tried was just as funny, though not as successful. She was holding me by both hands and swinging me round - after a few revolutions, the centrifugal force kicked in and my feet left the ground. I flew for a whole thirty seconds before she dropped me.
And that was that. Dance. I still don't think I'm going to enjoy it, but it was an interesting beginning.
The only other thing of note today was The Crucible. The small piece of it we are doing has me as Abigail, Becca as Hale, Bev as Reverend Parris, Yusra as Tituba, and all of us as Mrs Putnam. It is good - Becca and Bev can both act well, I can get by, and although Yusra is frankly hilarious as Tituba, she does pull off the panic attack. The problem is the lines. We are performing it with scripts, but we're all trying to do without. Unfortunately...
Whenever Becca forgets a line, she shouts, "Something about the devil!"
I can't say "I never sold myself!" without laughing.
Yusra can't pronounce "She beg me conjure!"
And Bev... well, she has the last line, and it always runs: "If you do not tell the truth I will..." - looks at script for five seconds - "have you whipped to your death, Tituba!"
And I haven't even mentioned that we were doing this with a set improvised from A Christmas Carol. We borrowed Scrooge's chair for Abigail and his bed for Betty.
This entry is way too long... with too much HTML...
(I think it was Bertrand Russell who discovered the secret of the universe while under the influence of nitrous oxide. It was: "A smell of petroleum prevails throughout.")
The day continued in surreal fashion. Mme Mistry came in during registration, looking for someone willing to swap their French oral for nine fifteen this morning. Mrs Williams gave a beautific smile and volunteered me. I believe my exact words were: "No, no, no, no, no and again no."
Mme Mistry looked startled and then said she couldn't take me anyway, because she doesn't teach me. For obvious reasons all attention was suddenly on Becca. "Please," Mme Mistry said to her. "Please, Rebecca."
Becca shook her head violently. "No!"
"Please! I will be very nice!"
"Oh, yeah, you'll be so nice when I fail!"
"Please!"
Becca finally came round to the idea after ten minutes of this. "You have to be so nice, and ask me the easiest questions from the easiest topics..." she said.
"But of course!"
"And let me do it tomorrow if I make a mess of it!"
"Yes! Thank you!" she cried, the relief so evident, and Becca retreated into a corner to revise with a stunned what-the-fuck-have-I-done look on her face.
So she departed for the Modern Languages' version of hell, while I went to my next instalment of general studies. I'm not on private study any more, and more's the pity. It was dance, and I didn't want to do it, not at all. However, it proved rather intriguing. We ended up watching an old video of people jitterbugging in the Thirties, and after we saw a guy throw his partner into the air, Ella got a strange look in her eyes. "Iona..." she began.
Well, it wasn't as if I needed any second bidding. She stood, facing me, hands outstretched. I eyed up the distance and moved forwards. If there's one thing I can do, it's fall; a lifetime of weak ankles and a non-existent sense of balance has given me the ability to fall easily without hurting myself, so I wasn't afraid, just nervous, which are not the same thing. Like I said, I eyed up the distance and moved forwards.
I'll admit the first few times we did it were a bit crap. But we tried showing Mrs Dickinson, and for once, it was flawless. I ran forwards, turned round, placed my hands on Ella's, and for once we both timed the spring exactly right. She pushed me up as I jumped, and for a moment I was high above her head, flying.
The other move we tried was just as funny, though not as successful. She was holding me by both hands and swinging me round - after a few revolutions, the centrifugal force kicked in and my feet left the ground. I flew for a whole thirty seconds before she dropped me.
And that was that. Dance. I still don't think I'm going to enjoy it, but it was an interesting beginning.
The only other thing of note today was The Crucible. The small piece of it we are doing has me as Abigail, Becca as Hale, Bev as Reverend Parris, Yusra as Tituba, and all of us as Mrs Putnam. It is good - Becca and Bev can both act well, I can get by, and although Yusra is frankly hilarious as Tituba, she does pull off the panic attack. The problem is the lines. We are performing it with scripts, but we're all trying to do without. Unfortunately...
Whenever Becca forgets a line, she shouts, "Something about the devil!"
I can't say "I never sold myself!" without laughing.
Yusra can't pronounce "She beg me conjure!"
And Bev... well, she has the last line, and it always runs: "If you do not tell the truth I will..." - looks at script for five seconds - "have you whipped to your death, Tituba!"
And I haven't even mentioned that we were doing this with a set improvised from A Christmas Carol. We borrowed Scrooge's chair for Abigail and his bed for Betty.
This entry is way too long... with too much HTML...
