People can be actually really mean.

At work. A very old asian lady just came up and asked me in broken English if we had Lion King tickets for tonight. When I told her we didn't, she sassed me with,

"Then why you sit here?"

The saddest part was, I didn't totally know how to answer.

Nearly disastrous.

This is how messy my room is.

I attempted to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and, on my way out of my room, slipped on a Cosmopolitan magazine.

In mid-air, as my life flashed before my eyes, I thought: "Dear God, this can't be how it ends."

RICKY'S CAN EVEN MAKE DOGS SLUTTY!!!

STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING.

SERIOUSLY. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE DOING. JUST STOP IT RIGHT NOW. BECAUSE YOU NEED TO WATCH THIS.

NOW.

The beginning of Wikipedia research for Orgon in Tartuffe.

I'm already starting to get inspired by scrappy cartoon characters.

Mainly Elmer Fudd and Scrappy Doo.

Also, according to WikiAnswers about Pooh characters, "Rabbit is a man bunny."

I'm so glad I'm finally getting to take my passion for theatre to the next level.

20.

202020202020202020202020202020202020.

20.

Still some 20 anxiety but it's beginning to fade.

And on the bright side, TWENTY!!!

This just in from my textbook.

Thanks, Environmental Science. You package your textbook to look so normal and then:

"Tides occur in patterns set by a celestial dance involving the earth, the moon, and, to a lesser extent, the sun."

ME THINKS "CELESTIAL DANCE" IS THE NEW TITLE OF MY ONE WOMAN SHOW.

BLOG.

OMG GUYZZZZ. First blog of junior year. And I'm writing it from my first day of work at the TIC! That's right, back in action already. Since I haven't written in a few days, I'll give you a brief summary of my current thoughts through two lists. SO COOL, RIGHT??

Things about Media, Pa that I am sad to be leaving:
-Wawa hoagies, coffee, and frozen cokes
-Rita's water ice (specifically a kid-size twist on a cone and the mint chocolate chip flavor cream ice)
-the mystery of the mouse*
-Quiddler: this FAMAZING card/word game that my family randomly found and is now obsessed with (I also love it because I finally found a word game where I can beat my brother...sometimes)
-dinner made by othets
-my blind, deaf, feeble (but LOVABLE) dog
-DOING NOTHING ALL DAY BESIDES WATCHING WEST WING AND DRINKING LEMONADE AND TALKING WALKS AND EATING TRADER JOE'S STRAWBERRY MOCHI AND LISTENING TO WILCO

Things about school I am excited for:
-looking out my window and seeing the river (APPARENTLY THE OTHER DAY THERE WAS A SAILBOAT THAT YOU COULD SEE BUT I WASN'T THERE TO SEE IT BUT ALL OF MY SUITEMATES SAW IT SO I KNOW IT'S TRUE)
-everything about my suitemates and their cuteness and their wonderfullness and their teaching me how to cook hot dogs (not that I had never made hot dogs or anything...)
-my crafty wall decor! Who knew I could make things without injuring myself and/or others?
-suitemate harmonies. all the time. amazingness.
-Wooster Group (check back in October for deetz)
-TOM'S RANCHO WRAP


Plus, it's almost my birthday! AAAAAdulthood.

Also, last night I made myself rice. Guys. Apparently one cup of rice is a lot of rice. I know because I scoffed and made two cups and now I will be living off of rice forever. Like a prisoner. A prisoner of my own stupidity.

*The story/mystery/horror of the mouse in my house:
For the last few weeks, we have seen activity that leads my family to believe that we have one, if not two mice, invading our downstairs. The most shocking evidence was when we saw one in the broad daylight. You would think that a mouse would be hesistant to appear in front of as roomful of people, but appear he did. In fact, he lingered. He lingered for so long that my mom shouted hysterically to my stepfather: "he just keeps walking around in there...HE'S GETTING A COCKTAIL!" I tried to point out to my mother that mice don't really walk per se, but she wouldn't hear it. Plus, this may or may not be the same mouse that, a few months ago, ate a bunch of our Nutter Butters and left droppings on the remaining cookies just to spite us. So we did what most would do and bought two mouse traps. Let me walk you through the trauma that happened next. At 3am, when I am the only one awake and watching television in the living room, I suddenly hear a snap. I know that we've got him. I feel a slight sense of victory--we'll teach you to eat our Nutter Butters. I also feel relieved to know that there will be no more mouse sightings. Unfortunately, 5 minutes later, I hear the loud clacking of plastic against the floor. I know that the mouse, caught in the trap, is now struggling to escape and, in the process, violently bouncing all around. HOW FAR WILL HE BOUNCE? COULD HE BOUNCE ALL THE WAY TO THE LIVING ROOM?? Plus, I REALLY wanted some lemonade but I also REALLY didn't want to turn on the kitchen light and see a bloody, mangled mouse in the middle of the floor. The clacking of the plastic went on for a full 20 minutes, at which point I became so disturbed that I had to run upstairs and hide under the covers. But HERE'S the kicker: the next morning I came downstairs and asked my stepfather about the state of the mouse. But he just looked confused. When he entered the kitchen upon awaking: THERE WAS NO MOUSE! He got. Away. Which means there is now probably a mouse rotting behind the fridge. And I bet that bastard will STILL find a way to eat our Nutter Butters.

Sorkinism #4.

Ainsley Hayes (in reference to President Bartlet): And I'm still scared to meet him, but I'll overcome that in order to erase the humiliation that I've brought upon myself and my father.

Sam: You're just in your own little Euripides play over there, aren't you?

Please do not contact the television program, "Intervention".

I am slowly beginning to pack for school and it has come to my attention that I may have a slight problem.

Jesus Christ. How did I accumulate so many plays? And not just any plays. Plays that are necessary for my being. I cannot be without them. I finally managed to get a hold of myself and set a small pile aside to leave at home. Why didn't anyone tell me that I had a problem?

BUT then I started thinking to myself. Maybe I am not the one with the problem. Where do these playwrights get off writing so many good plays? And THEN they have the gall to spell their name all silly with a "gh". Maybe they should stop being so good at writing. Maybe they are the ones with the problem.

To clarify: Just because I now recognize that I may have a mild addiction does not mean that I am planning any sort of lifestyle adjustment. I mean, I changed my blog template. What else does the world want from me??

OOOOO.

New template, y'all!

The old colors were boring me and it's like I just had blog-botox: it probably won't last long but GOD do I feel young and wild!

Future career plans.

GUYS. I finally figured out the career I would like to replicate exactly.

Philip Seymour Hoffman.

How could I not see it before? I was too busy admiring him to actually be COPYING him. ALL THE TIME I HAVE WASTED!!

Look at the facts, people:

1. Career spans both theatre and film.

2. Classical training.

3. Able to transition seamlessly from big-budget studio films to artsy indies.

4. Occasionally directs a stage piece.

5. Co-artistic director for a theatre company.

6. Somehow manages to be a well-known, extremely respected actor, yet has kept almost his entire personal life hidden from the public.

MAKE ME A MAN.

MAKE ME THIS MAN.

I figure, when I'm this young, I'm allowed to dream big.