I've just returned from auditioning for Take 5 at school. It's a series of 5 plays written by alumni and students; I know two of the authors. I've always marveled at the fact that I'm not a thespian. I'm dramatic and tend to be attracted to these type of people. but I've never merged with them. I'm very disappointed with high school actors when they come together; collectively, I can't stand the people. People present laughed at everything, EVERYTHING. The majority of these occurrences and comments not being remotely humorous in nature, one can see that the laughers were laughing simply because the director wanted them to laugh. Not because of the script or anything, it felt as if the directors existed off the power of being able to control the facial muscles in the majority of those present. I was extremely vexed.

I think I did well, however. I was asked to read the part of a pill-popping house wife that finally explodes, and I think I was cut out for the part. Explode I did; screaming, ranting, violent hand gestures, the works. It was quite therapeutic. Due to a shortage of time, however, I was unable to read two parts I was eyeing in two different plays. I was so very frustrated! I knew exactly what I was going to do, say, and laugh at, but I suppose it's not my loss. I doubt I'll be casted (well, actually I think I will be, but I say this so that I can pretend to not be disappointed if I'm not casted. Absence of expectation is my favorite situation; If I attain what I want, I'm the incredible youth that simply doesn't realize her talent, if I don't attain what I want, then I'm the incredible youth that's simply must be incredible in another area because of my unrivaled apathy. No, I'm not mind-blowingly defensive, don't be silly. I think I'll be casted, also, because of Robbie. He used to like my in some year, until he realized I was far out of his reach and became very bitter towards me. Elisse thinks he still likes me, and I don't doubt it. I am a sexy beast, after all)

So postings go up tomorrow. If I make it, great, if not, less work for me to do. Huzzah!

So I've discovered another reason why I hate life. There's this absolutely beautiful New Zealander in my physics class that auditioned today. He has this incredible olive skin and these black eyes that I just can't look at without imagining what it would be like to swim in them. He also wears eye liner. He's gorgeous and just barely taller that me, which means that I tower over him when I'm wearing heels. So of course, he has to be gothic. Or an anarchist- I don't know. He has a Mohawk and wears Army boots with capri-thingies and flannel. DANG IT!!! I just want to shout at him- buzz off that protrusion on your head, wear those wire-rimmed glasses I saw on you once, take a glance at the latest GQ, and I will let you push me against a wall. Until, of course, my dominant side bursts out of my oh-so-calm demeanor and then I push you against a wall. But no- he's has to wear the flannel. And those boots! Why, oh why? Add to my lists of vices: this goth in Armani. He would be dangerous, so I guess that he's best in his cut off capris. *sniffs*

I can't even flirt with him in physics, though. I sit with these preppy prats that dislike him, and if they aren't there for me to cheat off of, then I won't get an A. They're also the group the TA in my trig class hangs out with, and she's the reason I'm getting an A in trig. One of their groupies is also dating the guy I cook with in foods, who makes the class semi-bearable. Their parent group are the only people I have to talk to in choir, and a member of that parent group covers for me everyday in AP History. They are the sole reason I have a 3.8 and I only do work in English. Connections are everything, love.

I don't really care, I'd get along without them; I'm just lazy. Sure, I could branch off and be "freed" from the chain of social obligations I have, but what would that be teaching me for my life in the near future? One must keep up appearances you know...

This entry has just become ranting and blabber. Hopefully this ranting and blabber is entertaining or something, because it's helping me think. I had no idea I really want to jump New Zealand before now. Interesting, isn't it?

My mother is screaming at Rob, my older brother, in the other room. Before this annoyed me, but I have a new-found appreciation for that gal; if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have done so well today in my pill-popper breakdown audition. Everything serves a purpose, I guess.

Maybe I should give New Zealand my blog address. He would find out that I want him to go GQ, and he would do it because it's a really, really good idea. A hysterically good idea. He's so pretty. I'm also sure that he would get past this whole "I love blood" phase. I did, and I was very sadistic. I suppose I am still, but in a sense much crueler and colder that the physical. Perhaps he'll become the same way, and we can play mind games all the day long. Whoopee!

I've chatted a lot about nothing, glancing over every three minutes or so at the huge pile of work I have to do for English. I think I'll get started that and leave Elisse rolling on the floor after reading this entry. I'm so predictable, I know. Oh- I really want to see her apartment. Saturday would be good for me because I'm not working until 5 but I could tell my mom that I am. Call me.