Let's Be Reasonable, Shall We?

Now, I'm an intelligent human being. I realize that a 300-level history course is going to be pretty challenging and in-depth, even though it is only music in Western civilization, rather than world music or, in fact, a general history course. I realize that I'm going to have to remember names and dates, as well as doing everything I can to do well in this course.

But is it too much to ask for a thorough review sheet? Is it really? This afternoon, Dr. A. handed us 4-pages (double-sided) of questions. This came to about 6 pages of multiple-choice and 2 pages of short-answer. This would not have been bad, because this is, as I said, a challenging course. This felt more like, say, a mid-term exam than a regular test, but I could deal with that. The part I could not deal with, however, was the fact that perhaps 1/4 of the material on the test was covered in the review sheet. We counted five of the fifteen short-answer questions that were covered, and roughly twelve of the forty-three on the multiple choice. There is a listening portion, where we identify composers and song-titles by listening to part of an example, but THE WRITTEN PORTION TOOK SO LONG THAT WE DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME IN THE 50-MINUTE PERIOD.

It does not take me 50-minutes to take a test. It has never taken me 50-minutes to take a test, barring the SAT's and maybe two out of all the final exams I've ever taken in my college career, including every test in which I've had to write an essay.

Tomorrow, one of our number is taking an example of the last test (just as bad) and the review sheet to the head of the music department for her perusal. She will be informed that the highest grade anybody in the class is recieving is a "C", which none of us can afford - we all have music as an emphasis either in a major or minor. Hopefully, this may help us, if only so that we can get free P/NC's in the class.

Inquiring minds want to know: Is it so hard to make a reliable review sheet to make studying for these hellish experiences just a jot easier?

Alternatives and Pathways

It's interesting how a random conversation can develop into something completely relevant and important. Today, I was sitting in the library between classes, eating lunch and reading my script when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I retreated to the stairwell, so I wouldn't disturb anyone, and answered it - it was Steph, wanting to know if I would lend her my car so she could hang posters downtown advertising for the latest concerts being held by the music department. I agreed, because it was cold and rainy and it really was going to be quite a hike for her, and she came to the library to pick up my keys.

Well, when she arrived she sat down to warm up and chat for a few minutes before embarking upon her poster-hanging quest, and we were talking of future plans. I related that I had recently been reevaluating my future career on the stage and thinking of alternatives. On a whim, I mentioned that I really liked the idea of opening a sort of coffee shop/health food store. Well, Steph is a marketing major and she is trained to take an idea and run with it. She mentioned that she liked the idea of it, and thought that perhaps offering a soup and sandwich selection would not go amiss. I thought that maybe offering a collection of used books would be a neat idea, along with comfortable chairs and ambient lighting.

...and it all just sort of snowballed from there. We were there for an hour just planning. I skipped my math class because we were so involved in plotting our future coffeeshop/pastry shop/used bookstore/soup and sandwich spot. I ended up walking downtown with her to hang posters so that we could discuss the idea further. We even went so far as to write down an outline for the future business venture. It's in my notebook, simmering in impatience for the day I recieve my degree and can be set loose on the world to implement it.

I don't know if this will actually go anywhere. But I think that if we can get a third partner, someone more experienced with accounting and numbers than either of us is, then we can really set this plan into action. I still don't know whether or not I will be going to grad school. I still don't know if I'm going to make a career out of my acting talent. But this is the first time I've had a direction to work towards in a while. I kind of like it.

Besides which, thanks to Sierra and Justin, I now know how to acquisition and also identify rare and antique books. There's quite a market for volumes of that sort in academic communities. If we can find a good college town with a university including a more literary grad program, then we'll be in business. Because what good (I stress 'good') college student doesn't love a good book?

Fractured Reality

Last night, I had my first "real" date since I was seventeen. It was strange. First of all, I hadn't known it would be a date to begin with. A friend of mine asked me to see "Elizabeth" with him (good movie-wise, but somewhat historically inaccurate, as I expected) last night and I decided to drive to Staunton to see the movie with him. I had a sneaking suspicion it might be a date, but this wasn't confirmed until he slid his fingers over mine on the armrest between us. I let him.

We walked around Staunton until three am, which was nice but also odd. I hadn't realized so much time had passed until he looked at his watch and realized he had to work the next morning. (Luckily, I don't work until 4pm today.) It was...nice. But surreal, you know? I'm not used to dating anymore. We were walking through the Episcopal churchyard when he tried to kiss me - this, I did not let him do. The mood was right, and the moment was right, and whatever it was he said directly beforehand (I can't remember for the life of me) was right, but something in me said not to - and for the first time, I listened to that something and I'm glad I did.

He wants to do this again. I am... undecided. Lately I have been longing for something more in my life, but I'm not sure he's it. Ironic that this happens as soon as I finish discussing with Phipps my lack of love life - and my wish to get involved with somebody not in theatre. Theatre eats your soul and your life, and it's best to keep romance out of the theatre as much as possible. But I remain undecided. After all, perhaps I should just keep in practice?

Space

In seeing my older sister's flat last night, I've come to the conclusion that I'm really going to have to get my own place. Not a house with a housemate, not a flat with a flatmate - but my own space, just for me. Hopefully, by the time I graduate, I will have found someplace to call my own and will be able to afford such a place.

I've been giving my future career some thought lately. The life in temporary lodgings that my acting career will make necessary doesn't sound very appealing right now. I miss my small-town life, as unimportant and boring as it sometimes was while growing up. I miss not worrying about paying rent every month or worrying about whether or not places will allow me to keep a cat. I miss having roots.

So, I've been thinking. Yes, I will need to go to grad school. But perhaps I will need to come back to Pennsylvania first. Perhaps I'll live in Lewisburg for a little while - there's certainly a lot of off-campus student housing available for a decent price. I'm sure I could find a small flat that I could move into for a year while I'm working. Moreover, there are jobs around here that need filling. I could find a place with a decent income where I could save a little for grad school.

My problem, however, would be in finding theatre experience while I'm here. Williamsport CTL just ain't gonna cut it, I'm afraid, when it comes time to show a grad school my work experience. To be perfectly honest, there just isn't much theatre here in central PA, and there is none that I could show a grad school in hopes of getting in.

But in the end, what is more important? I can certainly get my Master's in teaching, then move on to get my doctorate in order to teach at a college somewhere. Then I would have my roots, and my house, and a place for the cat. I feel too young to be deciding what the rest of my life will be - we shouldn't be allowed to make these bloody decisions until we're at least thirty!

When in Rome....

I had never pictured myself as a dykey lesbian. Apparently, there are differing opinions on this point. Allow me to explain - I auditioned for "The Vic", the next show going up at Mary Baldwin last night, and I got a callback for tonight.

Funny story about that, actually. I had my midterm recital today, as well, so I arrived on campus in a pretty dress, high heels, lipstick, and pearls, with my hair all pretty. I recieved the callback right after my environmental issues class, at which point I shouted "FUCK!" in a very loud voice and recieved an odd look from Dr. C as he beat a hasty retreat to his office away from the crazy theatre chick. It was then that I began frantically calling people in search of blue jeans that would fit me - I had been told that the part I was auditioning for would be the part of the very butch lesbian (the one part I knew I had absolutely NO chance in hell at), and I knew very well that my pretty dress and high heels were NOT appropriate.

I finally ended up borrowing shirt, shoes, and socks from Phipps; and I luckily ran into Laura Bouchard on my way up the hill and she agreed to lend me a pair of her blue jeans. (This is the last time I leave Waynesboro without a change of clothes in the trunk of my car. Just sayin'.)

The scene that I auditioned with was...difficult. The character of Spud (the one I auditioned for) is a very dykey lesbian. She had been a victim of abuse as a child, was a victim of abuse in her relationships, was the abuser in relationships, and to top it off is a recovering alcoholic. She's not the most well-adjusted of individuals, to say the least. In the audition scene, she discovers that her girlfriend, Elise, has cheated on her. To be blunt, she loses it. She tries to control herself, but ends up hitting Elise with one of her devil sticks (which sounds, actually, worse than it is) and screaming at her before realizing what she's done. And, if I remember correctly, she goes to a bar directly afterwards and has her first alcoholic drink in five years. This is not a part for the weak of heart. I have been told that Spud is the most important part of the play. She is central to the plot.

I'm still shocked that they want me.

Genuine Hatred

I'm not feeling very charitable towards either Dr. A or Dr. C this week. They both scheduled mid-terms for the same day and I'm frantically going over my notes to see how much I've actually learned since the past exams took place. I also have my voice mid-term (I'm singing Vedrai, carino from Don Giovanni - my first college aria!), and music theory mid-term on Friday. Hopefully, though, I can convince Dr. KB to allow me to take the theory mid-term earlier that morning, so that I can leave straight from music theory for Pennsylvania. Fall Break approacheth!!!

In other news, my academic advisor is the most wonderful woman on this earth. I mentioned to her that I was dying to go on the May-term trip to Vienna and she asked why I shouldn't be able to go. I informed her of my reasons: money, lack of language skills, and that if I was to go, we would need to be able to count it as a general education requirement somehow - I desperately need more humanities and the Vienna trip will count as an art trip. Needless to say, by this point I do not require more arts. She said, and I quote, "We'll make it work. Talk to financial aid, then come find me."

This week, I'll also be auditioning for the M.Litt final presentations and Clinton's show, "The Vic". I'm feeling a little apathetic towards both, which is a huge switch from last year - last year, I was all too eager to hop back up onstage. As much as I'll enjoy working with Clinton if I get cast, I would be okay with working makeup crew on the show.

Ah well. Today, I'm off to have coffee with Alice - she suggested it, and generally when she suggests something like this, I've done something wrong. I'm still digging through my memory, trying to figure out what I could have done and she mentioned it earlier this week. Then work tonight and.... well, I need to find time to study today.

Procrastination Station

So, I've really got nothing to write. I'm just procrastinating over a silly paper I could write in ten minutes - but hey, it'll only take me ten minutes, so I've got time.

I went to see "Lysistrata" tonight. I like throwing popcorn at Betsy. It was very shiny. That is all I shall say about that.

I was a disgraceful Mary Baldwin student and did not celebrate Apple Eve with drunken debauchery - though, to be fair, I know few who did. I stayed home, trying to keep my nose from running away with me and hacking up a lung. Apple Eve is not a good night to be ill. I felt myself to be rather sad, but to be honest, I was glad for the excuse not to wear a toga. (I'm a pathetic excuse for a college student. Tell me something I don't know.) I spent Apple Day laying outside in a hammock, re-reading Jane Eyre and enjoying the warm fall day. It really did feel like the first true day of fall, which made me very happy that I was spending it outside enjoying nature. On a normal Wednesday, I would be rushing to and from class with a massive migraine and an empty stomach.

Recently, I've found myself to have a mild, harmless crush on my biology professor - which certainly gives me incentive to do well in his class. Also, day-dream fodder for math class, during which time I usually just write down the concept name so I can study it with Solomon in terms I can understand. Anyhow, this is probably the safest sort of attraction I can feel nowadays and I'll allow myself to have fun with it for a little while - it's harmless and it gives my brain something to do during idle moments. Besides, I've discovered that any sort of concrete liason/possibility of emotional fulfillment that I may have during my undergraduate years is probably a Very Bad Idea - best to have this attraction at a distance and leave it at that. (And, to be perfectly honest, the silly thing won't last beyond this semester. I don't even go near the biology department except for General Education Requirements, which I'm nearly done with.)

Hm. For having had nothing to write at the beginning of this entry, I certainly managed to come up with quite a lot of verbage. This is what procrastination will do to you. I shall now de-commence rambling.

Gratuitous Mugging for a Camera

One of a very long series of photos taken in the subway. And no, the beverage I'm holding is not liquor. No. Really.

Right before the opera, as documented by Mrs. A. Note my fantastic ensemble, as was described in an earlier post. I really must find an occasion to wear that dress again.

In the hotel room, post-opera. That's all for now, kids. There will be more later, I assure you.

Good Things Don't Last

Well, I've felt this coming on for a few days, but I am well and truly ill now. Steph had a head cold/sinus-y thing this weekend and shared it with me - so now I have a stuffed up head and I look like death. My appearance has not much been helped by the fact that I slept through my alarm this morning, woke at 9:30 and realized I had only twenty minutes in which to arrive at class on time. Since I live twenty minutes away from campus, I only had time to throw on some clothes and grab my books.

By the time I arrived at school, I realized how sick I really was only because when I climbed out of my car and stood up, I nearly fell down. Monday is, of course, my busiest day and as I ran through classes, I could only think of one thing: my bed, and how far away it seemed.

I did all right during the morning, but by the time my 1pm Environmental Issues class rolled around, I was flagging a bit. Dr. Callo was looking a bit concerned by the time the class period had ended; and I still had to drag myself up the hill to Basic Math. I gave up on trying to pay attention to what Dr. Gentry was actually teaching and instead only wrote down what we were covering, so I could go over it later with Solomon. I walked up to commuter parking with the intention of dropping my books off in the car, but halfway up, brain and body rebelled simultaneously against the idea of waiting around until 4:50 and going to choir (where I would have to stand and attempt to sing - which, in my present condition, is well-nigh impossible!). So, I climbed in and drove my poor abused body home to a hot meal and a warm bed (with a warm kitten, who is currently curled up on my frozen feet).

After spending three days in a place as crowded and hectic as Manhattan, it's really very nice to be home again. However, living in a city has once more reminded me of the importance of public transportation and the severe lack of it in most of the US. It would be nice to have a train running from Charlottesville to Waynesboro to Fishersville to Staunton, with branches running off to Weyer's Cave and Harrisonburg. It would save on gas and would be better for the commuter rush in the AM when we're all dodging school buses and moving at a crawl so we don't get pulled over by the police for even a 1 mph violation of the speed limit (they will pull you over and ticket you, even though 5 mph over the speed limit is permissible). Moreover, it would be very useful for the students who want to take an afternoon to hang out in downtown Charlottesville, since Staunton resembles something like a ghost town on weekends and there really is nothing to do.

I think that when I "get all growed up", I'll need to have two homes. One in the country, where I can be my hermit-like self and hide with my books and my gardening and my kitchen all I want; and also a place in the city, where I can do things like dress up to attend the opera and hop on the underground public transport to anywhere I need to go.

Next week, I go home - home, home, HOME! I haven't been home in months and this is the first time in three years that I'll see the leaves changing.