"'YOU GET THE HELL OUT!!*

Man, I love Arrested Development. Too bad it's about to die. Shame to see it go. We won Zone, yay. We'll probably win District, yay. Why I'm not more pumped about it only God knows why. Someone get over here and pump me up.........(that's awkward) So the West Wing has been surprisingly full of non-suckage in the week's past. Alan Alda is such a badace in his role. I'm thinking about picking up some MASH DVDs, a show I have in fact never seen, just because he owns so much tail on TWW. Jimmy Smits, meh. Whatevs. And wow, 83 comments on the Defying Gregory. Guys, you take those kinds of things way too seriously. But I suppose it's my fault too for mixing some honesty with comedy. It was a half joke/half true kind of thing. In reality, only a couple of you make me want to kill myself. Don't take it so seriously. It got me probation (true story). And when I say it I mean the taking too seriously It's funny to think how this moment right now, right this second will never exist again. And it's gone by and past and it won't ever be there for a second or third time. I can't think of any one thing I've consistently loved for more than a year that should actually mean something. Loving something worthwhile. Odd? Perhaps. Maybe I'm just soulless! HAHAHAHAHA....don't hurt me guys.

"The last thing you said was 'Are you listening to me'"

You scored as Toby. What an extraodinary mind! You tested as Toby. The West Wing would fall in a heap without him, and the President would never sound as good.. Charlie 70% Toby 70% CJ 60% Leo 60% Josh 55% Will 50% Jeb (President) 50% Donna 50% Abby 25% Which 'West Wing' Character are You? created with QuizFarm.com

I love me some West Wing. By the way, I just started a KHS Theatre community (the username is KHSTheatre. I can't remember where I got the name). I encourage all that are now or have ever been involved with theatre to join up and get all unitey.

"Jesus, Gandhi, and some cats"

Good night tonight. Tonight was refreshing in the sense that I spent the majority of it with people who didn't make me feel like I should want to take my own life (non-UILers. Gotta love that ensemble). It was the first time I felt satisfied with more than 75% of the evening in quite a while. I'd do myself better to sling some ink more often. This week has been extremely unmemorable. Procrastination and apathy have been all up in my grill for far too long. But I suppose I don't really have an alternative with apathy. He just likes to hang out and eat my brain out. Then from time to time inspiration comes around and starts beating the crap out of him and gets me back in the game. But that's from time to time. I've started to question whether you can care about anything deeply without having a faith in it. Not to suggest that's a situation I'm faced with at the moment.

"Defying Gregory"

Something has changed within me Something is not so fun I knew that Katy hated me But she isn't the only one Too late to fool anybody Too late to go "Aw shucks" Now that the truth is out Everyone knows Greg sucks And they will try defying Gregory Let's see them try defying Gregory And they will bring me down ANYONE: Can't you make them understand You do not belong in the theatre I'm through accepting bullcrap Because someone says it's so I know how much I suck No reminders needed. I know I blow. I suck so hard I can't believe that Sheff was unaware I guess he didn't know me well When he made me Valere And he will start defying Gregory And he will try defying Gregory And he will bring me down Unlimited, my suckness is Unlimited And I might just try to take my own life If I use a butter knife

I have nothing to say

"I'm not really a horse, I'm a broom"

Have I mentioned how stifling LJs are? Yes, I'm aware of the whole "It makes us all braver" mantra but sometimes it's as annoying as a Greg. Like, your mind is full but you can only let the stuff that leaks out be revealed. There are so many things I'm thinking to say and would like to say and should be said and need to be said. But it would upset people or disturb people or piss 'em off or really worry them. I have some pretty mean things to say too. Mostly about me and some about others. Actually, I could really whip it out with others but I can't. It's public. It's out there on the internet cyberspace written down somewhere. You can't really do that. You don't even know how much I'm coveting one moment of pure honesty. You get some of those once a blue moon. Most honesty is either tainted with misjudgment or veiled in symbolism and cryptic language. And when truth is actually laid out, for some reason it's really shocking and disturbing. Probably because it's so scarce. It's like wading through a sea of really cheap mardi-grasesque jewelry for miles and suddenly finding an actual honest-to-God diamond. It's difficult to handle. I don't want to paraphrase Sorkin here or anything... And it's so subject to the individual's judgment. For instance, if I were to say: "I honestly believe that I have no place in theatre and I'm best used as the punching bag. I've invested so much into this thing that it's kinda unfun to realize that it never wanted me in the first place. I believe that most things and people I come in contact with are somehow less good than they were before I did. I don't think I have an identity and instead I cling onto the remnants of those around me because I'm not smart enough to make myself something. I don't have the courage to stand up for that in which I believe and the smarts to believe in anything of substance. I consider myself to be a failure and disappointment to those that know me well enough to enough. I believe that the UIL One-Act would function better without my involvement and I don't believe that if I died tomorrow it would affect anything in the big picture negatively." People would freak out. First off, they'd think I was some friendless batshit crazy emo kid who doesn't have anyone close enough to them to confide in. Or perhaps they would believe I was just insanely desperate and starved for attention enough to concoct a totally bogus little emotional vent to draw attention to myself and make people concerned. Or some would simply write me off as another of the pathetic bastards and, while slightly miffed that I'm smart enough to realize it, would agree. But that's just truth for you. Tricky little demon.

"Yeah, dude"

Today is the first of the Break of Spring. Good day. Actually no, the day sucked. The night was kickin' though. Recappy goodness... We arrived at the "resturaunt" if you would like to call it that. We were there to celebrate Jordan's birthday. Everyone was excited: AJ seemed a little tired though And that's when Jordan decided to put on the helmet to give some life to the table. (We're all giving him the finger out of frame) Chris and Kiersten then proceeded to get lost in each other's eyes thinking about how awesome they were. 54 minutes after we had ordered, the food had yet to arrive. Jordan and Mike were getting restless To pass the time Jordan tried downing his soda with a huge straw. It went through his nose and penetrated his brain matter. After he got back from the hospital, he was happy. And Chris slightly stoned. Only slighty, only slightly. All in all, it was a good night with great people and shitty service. Though for the night: Pointing out truths does not make anyone more or less ensembley. No, no, wait, damn. It does. So I suppose being ensembley means denying truth. Well, we haven't had a problem with it thus far. So, onward and upward.

"And the Caravan is on it's way"

I don't know what it is but I believe Van Morrison's "Moondance" may be one of my favorite albums of all time. I think Van probably has the most soulful non-black voice I've ever heard. The CD is so listenable too. Never for a second are you jolted. It just flows like a sweet jar of honey. Today's picture of the entry is part of a game called "Dead or Asleep" in which you must decide whether those pictured are dead or asleep. Ready? Go: If you guessed asleep, you'd be wrong. Those pictured are dead. Jared is still dead from the poisonous egg and I killed Jordan for symmetry. But don't worry. The bastard had it coming. Who's laughing now Jordan?! WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?!?!

"He's dead"

So Jared died. True story. This is how it happened: He found an egg. It looked funny so he pondered whether he should eat it or not But in the end he said "Why not?" and bit the bullet. At first it was all good But then something funny started happening The egg was actually poisonous and had he been careful enough to read the label we would have known that. And that's when he died. And that's when I employed my "Make the most of every situation" philosophy Poor Jared. It was a shame to see him go.

"Of course it's dark. It's a suicide note"

Yesterday was my 47th entry. That's one of my favorite numbers. It's an odd number. It's also a prime number. See, this is why I write posts like yesterday's. When I resort to writing about the oddness and primeness of numbers you understand that new ideas of any kind are golden to me. Death is just such a awkwardly fun subject to tackle. When everyone just gets all silent and weirded-out by it it's funny to me. Don't know why. I suppose that's just another socially retarded facet to the un-wonder that is myself. Death is just a topic that can be subject to so much discussion. For instance, the "legacy left behind" stuff. That's interesting to me. Asking yourself right now, right at this moment not thinking 10 minutes into the future "If I was to drop dead right now, what would I be leaving behind". What have you done thus far that's some sort of legacy that can live in people's memories for as long as they do? And why is it bad that you die? What would not be good if you were gone? For instance, Sheffield, just to name a person. If Sheffield got into a car wreck and bled to death in the firey wreckage, that would not be a good thing. Who would direct one-act? Who would run Kingwood theatre? All these responsibilites left hanging in the air. No one would be happy that he's gone. It would not be a good thing. True story. "What is being lost?" That was the rhetorical question we've been recieving in the critiques. What would be lost if someone not quite as important as that died? Take me for instance. What if all of a sudden, Greg just went out and got hit by a bus crushed enough bones in his body to die. What would be the consequences of that? Well first of all, the bus driver would feel pretty bad. But that's granting the premise that the bus driver didn't know me. And then there'd be the awkwardness of the UIL stuff that I covered in the last entry. Then would come the faux-sympathies from the church. They'd call the Porter residence and give them the "Is there anything I can do" shtick that the family would be too emotional to see right through. And then all the assholes would come out of the woodwork and pretend they were better friends with me than they were just for the sympathies (which is annoying as hell. People do that with carwrecks too). My sister would use my death as a scapegoat for any problems she might already be having. And I bet all the change jangling in my pockets that those most saddened would be the ones that knew me the least. As for the leaving behind part, I'd be leaving behind a couple of things. The biggest remnant would be the candyass videos I made. That's about it really. I'm listening to a song by Ryan Adams called "Desire". It was used recently in an episode of The West Wing. (post-Sorkin crappy era of course. It was a montage in a hotel in which the camera focused on one of the characters and an ice cream bar. That's right. An ice cream bar) It reminds me of this philosophy that I barely articulated in one of the earlier entries. I have this theory that a desire for someone else's love is incredibly selfish. I conveyed it in a way that sounded like any kind of love was selfish. I'm saying the kind that says "I think you're amazing and I want you to think the same of me". That's incredibly selfish that another person is supposed to think a certain way just because you do them. It also reminds me of the golden rule of unrequited stuff. You cannot force yourself to think anymore or less of another person just because you want to. They are forever what your perception tells you they are and you can't will your perception into thinking any different.

"They call him the Jackal"

I was seriously thinking about something today. What if somebody in the company died? Has that ever happened in the history of Kingwood theatre? Someone dying during a production of a play. First of all, that'd just be awkward with all the T-shirts made. And how would we honor them. Would Sheffield just up and say "Oh yeah. Most of you heard but for the rest of you, Greg died last night. But we're here to work." and that be that? Would there be a candlelit vigil in the person's honor or would we all just be "Bummer. Well, back to work." I suppose it would depend on who it was that died. If it was someone essential like anyone in the cast, that's a problem. One of the alternates would have to step up which would A) upset the perfect 16 balance B) be awkward and scary for the person stepping up. A cast death would truly not be a good thing. A crew death would be pretty bad too. The person who took whatever place would have to learn all the crew stuff and get comfortable with it all. An alternate death wouldn't be quite as bad though. It's not like if all of a sudden Wes dropped dead two minutes before our region performance it'd be like "OH HOLY CRAP!! WHAT'RE WE GONNA DO?!?!?!" What if one of us got killed in the line? Perhaps the fight blocking doesn't go just so and Corey gets a punctured lung. That would suck pretty bad. Or like the sewing-machine goes batshit crazy in Webber's room and sews right through somebody. Or maybe Adam lets the handheld saw slip out of his hands and straight into one of the table guys. That would equally suck. What if one of us just goes out onto the middle of the stage during a rehearsal, whips out a gun and says "Well, guess I'm out of the company" and sticks it in our mouth and fires away. That would be awkward. And we'd have to repaint the stage because of the blood. Would we still go on with rehearsal after that? Could we go on really. That would be such an awkward situation. I'm sure it'd become folklore of the KHS stage that the ghost of "Greg" or whoever still haunts the stage and the productions done on it. And what a crazyass ghost that would be.

"Your nose is bent out of joint and I don't give a damn"

I don't like LJs all that much. The main reason I keep one is because I update it more than I would a real one. I like reading other's but writing one myself just seems a bit self-absorbed. Our festivals have been going fine. I'm having a good time and really, isn't that all that matters? We're still "working on the show" but we need to be more "vested in the show" because apparently now we're not. Being an alternate being having an incredibly expendable and very much thankless job. Not to suggest that it isn't work. It's just not the kind that means anything. I don't much care though. Indifference is starting to take over. The Blue Bell stop was amazing though. I'll never look at ice cream the same way again. Incredible. Bus rides are some of the best times we'll have. Bus rides of any sort are the times in which I feel the most right about everything that's happening regardless of the circumstance. Not sure why that is. It's probably one of those symbol because the reality, subtext becomes the text, kind of things. I just enjoy them immensely.

"It's past time"

So yeah. Yesterday was the first of many festivals. I was underwhelmed. The experience was over extremely fast so there aren't too many memories to hold onto. We rehearsed, we ate, we loaded, we left, we rode, we unloaded, we set-up, we performed, we watched, we were critiqued, we took notes, we loaded up, we rode home, we unloaded, we ate, we watched a movie, we went home. As long-winded as that may sound it was one of the shortest days in recent memory. It was, however, a good day. A tad vanilla but a good day. I've been thinking quite a bit about how much I've caught myself merely enjoying and being entertained by things rather then taking the intiative and stepping off the sidelines to get in the game and do something myself. Creating things doesn't seem to be my shtick though I'd love it to be. I don't know how to make it happen besides actually doing it. But then it seems when I do it I kinda fall and fail. I just read a story about a dog who commmitted suicide. Now this situation poses several questions. First of which, how depressed does a dog have to get to become suicidal? I mean, perhaps after a visit to the vet's office to get neutered he just decided that life without his boys wasn't a life worth living. Or maybe he tried to get along with other dogs and dog groups but didn't seem to fit in. Maybe he thought he didn't have a place in this world after the chihuahua wouldn't invite him to the poker party that all the other dogs in town were going to. Maybe his wife left him for a dachshund. Poor dog.

"That is Saudi Arabia, our partners in peace"

From time to time one put's one's self in a situation not exactly...let me put it this way. From time to time I can really drop the ball. I've been a bit of a ball-dropper for sometime now (poor choice of words, much?). I keep wondering when that's gonna stop. And there's only one way it can really. It can't. Things that are screwed up cannot be blamed on by anything but the people that screw them up. True story. True fact. Fact of life. One of the biggest problems with the world right now is the fact that nobody wants to step up to the plate and take responsibility for their actions. I have a point. But LJs are stifiling. LJs are public. You can't just let it spill out. You can't "bare (or bear?) your soul" as it were. People can read them. People do. Why every thought and sentence I've mustered up tonight needs to stand-alone is a mystery. And a mystery it shall remain. As many things have remained. A friend of mine pointed out to be the other day that the concept of love, romance love anyway, is one of the most selfish things in the world. The idea that somebody is supposed to give you something back for the mere purpose of existing is such a stupid-ass philosophy. There's a point I'm trying to articulate here. I'm not exactly finding it. Stumbling in the dark a bit. I'll get back to you on it. No, what I'm saying is that kind of love is an absolutely selfish one. And I conclude this evening's post with a singluarly confident and self-esteemy thought: Why do I suck?

"But Brutus is an honorable man"

Gilmore Girls was really excellent last night. As was Scrubs. And yes, my life has come down to me talking about the excellence of television shows. I'm really going to get a self-esteem. I swear I'm gonna do it. If anyone has too much and wouldn't mind sharing then let me know. Because self-deprecation in excess isn't attractive. Woody Allen isn't attractive. Woody Allen's funny in a pitiful way. I'm like that minus the funny. So it's time to shape up and "find myself" as people who consider themselves gifts of hoosiers would say. And disproportional relationships are really starting to irk me. There's a whole lot of irking going around. You know what I'm talking about when I say "disproportional relationships". I'm talking about the ones in which you like the person far more then they like you or the other way around. They suck. I'm tired of them and God knows the ones on the recieving end are tired of me. Stop they should and I wish they shall. But there's really no way to make yourself like someone any more or less than you already do. It just is. And that's the way it goes.