So I think I've decided more than ever that I want to eventually become a high school teacher. Maybe I haven't explored the possibility of college professor enough, but it seems that there's so much politics and professional pressure in the university faculty. No, I think high school will be the place for me. Preferably, I could teach a freshman and a senior class, so I could be both the high school doorman and the college gatekeeper. Although I think I could make a difference with the sophomore class, which is the year that just totally sucks ass, by offering moral support for kids in a rut. Perks of Being a Wallflower would be required reading for my sophomore English class. Yeah.
Actually, despite the fact that my sophomore year was probably the year of greatest instability and self-doubt and Accutane, I look back on it now as the most imporant year of high school. I probably covered all the bases sophomore year (except those bases relating to sex, to which nothing ever happened, except for the time that I swung at strike three of a wild pitch which the catcher chased down and threw me out before anything was ever consummated. To be accurate, my whole purpose of being was to get a girlfriend, and if I wasn't so busy chasing skirts from a cowardly distance, I might have noticed how dynamic a year it was). The holy activity trinity of my personality-- band, art, track-- were all represented as I tried to construct a semblance of indentity from pipe cleaners and glue. Sophomore year was also the year I decided that my ideal career was in farming, and I remember listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man" a lot, which helped convince me that I was secretly endowed with the title of Everyman by a confederation of numerous classic rock bands. For a while I tried to push myself into "the crowd," picked up a taste for Dave Matthews and Phish, and got myself elected Class Secretary.
Return from flashback. [Wayne's World doodlee-oo!! doodlee-oo!! doodlee-oo!!] Here I am talking about high school again. I told Kristen the other day that I've developed the ability to review my high school years as a historical event complete with trends, turning points, and common themes as a result of no longer being a part of that period. I feel compelled to write these thoughts in a separate journal that I can maybe arrange into a book in the future.
Kristen. Kristen is somewhat unhappy at WashU. She tells me that she doesn't fit in with the drinking crowd, which is virtually the entire school, and she no longer wishes to pursue a pre-professional education, which is WashU's staple. I hope she doesn't feel embarrassed by me writing about this, but it worries me very much that she's not having such a good experience. I wish she would transfer here. I perceive the dangers in a high school relationship in college, and I totally agree that everybody should have the chance to independently meet new people and, to use the much-touted phrase, "find themselves." The greatest danger of her coming here would be that we'd just hang out together all the time and never meet anybody new. But besides my selfish desires, I think this school fits her personality like a glove, and I wished she'd considered it more the first time around.
So I auditioned for the plays. Thoreau had a cool audition, where we did all sorts of improvisational tableau's in small groups, and they warmed us up with Zip-Zap-Zop and the other thing we did in B-Club where we all shook our limbs and Nick acted better than us. I think I did the best I could, but they made me read for Thoreau, and I think I read it like the 30 other potential Thoreau's that were auditioning. In short, I didn't get a part. I auditioned for Henry V, and in the first round they made me read a Henry monologue, where they stopped me after 3 lines because I was basically doing a bad rip-off of Angry Jason. I then read a comic part, which I thought I knocked out of the park, but they only called me back for a very small character. In the call-back, I read with two other guys who happened to be first-year grad students (very unusual for UT) who knew Henry like the back of their hands. It was somewhat intimidating, and despite the fact that I only got to read two lines in my scene, I made a lot of suggestions for blocking and interp (which prompted on of them to quip "Just one question: are you auditioning for Gowen or for director?" to which I replied "Um, in my shows, we raise our hands when we have a question" which got a laugh). So it was a good time, and I got cast in Henry as playing Bardolph and Jamy, which leaves me with the fewest lines in the play than anybody, but which makes me happy anyway that I'm involved in some sort of theater this fall. I also get to go through some rigorous stage combat lessons, because the director (who is totally the Chicago Mark Fortin) is inserting 3 different "war breaks" into the play which are going to be all Rushmore-d out with pyrotechnics and good stuff.
In closing: a friend from down the hall got both Anthony Hopkins and Chris Martin's (lead singer of Coldplay, because he's Gwyneth's hubby) autographs. Also: I had no clue that Philip Glass graduated from UChicago, but he totally did. So take that, Aniele and Shatner Building-which-isn't-really-named-after-Williams-Shatner.
Actually, despite the fact that my sophomore year was probably the year of greatest instability and self-doubt and Accutane, I look back on it now as the most imporant year of high school. I probably covered all the bases sophomore year (except those bases relating to sex, to which nothing ever happened, except for the time that I swung at strike three of a wild pitch which the catcher chased down and threw me out before anything was ever consummated. To be accurate, my whole purpose of being was to get a girlfriend, and if I wasn't so busy chasing skirts from a cowardly distance, I might have noticed how dynamic a year it was). The holy activity trinity of my personality-- band, art, track-- were all represented as I tried to construct a semblance of indentity from pipe cleaners and glue. Sophomore year was also the year I decided that my ideal career was in farming, and I remember listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man" a lot, which helped convince me that I was secretly endowed with the title of Everyman by a confederation of numerous classic rock bands. For a while I tried to push myself into "the crowd," picked up a taste for Dave Matthews and Phish, and got myself elected Class Secretary.
Return from flashback. [Wayne's World doodlee-oo!! doodlee-oo!! doodlee-oo!!] Here I am talking about high school again. I told Kristen the other day that I've developed the ability to review my high school years as a historical event complete with trends, turning points, and common themes as a result of no longer being a part of that period. I feel compelled to write these thoughts in a separate journal that I can maybe arrange into a book in the future.
Kristen. Kristen is somewhat unhappy at WashU. She tells me that she doesn't fit in with the drinking crowd, which is virtually the entire school, and she no longer wishes to pursue a pre-professional education, which is WashU's staple. I hope she doesn't feel embarrassed by me writing about this, but it worries me very much that she's not having such a good experience. I wish she would transfer here. I perceive the dangers in a high school relationship in college, and I totally agree that everybody should have the chance to independently meet new people and, to use the much-touted phrase, "find themselves." The greatest danger of her coming here would be that we'd just hang out together all the time and never meet anybody new. But besides my selfish desires, I think this school fits her personality like a glove, and I wished she'd considered it more the first time around.
So I auditioned for the plays. Thoreau had a cool audition, where we did all sorts of improvisational tableau's in small groups, and they warmed us up with Zip-Zap-Zop and the other thing we did in B-Club where we all shook our limbs and Nick acted better than us. I think I did the best I could, but they made me read for Thoreau, and I think I read it like the 30 other potential Thoreau's that were auditioning. In short, I didn't get a part. I auditioned for Henry V, and in the first round they made me read a Henry monologue, where they stopped me after 3 lines because I was basically doing a bad rip-off of Angry Jason. I then read a comic part, which I thought I knocked out of the park, but they only called me back for a very small character. In the call-back, I read with two other guys who happened to be first-year grad students (very unusual for UT) who knew Henry like the back of their hands. It was somewhat intimidating, and despite the fact that I only got to read two lines in my scene, I made a lot of suggestions for blocking and interp (which prompted on of them to quip "Just one question: are you auditioning for Gowen or for director?" to which I replied "Um, in my shows, we raise our hands when we have a question" which got a laugh). So it was a good time, and I got cast in Henry as playing Bardolph and Jamy, which leaves me with the fewest lines in the play than anybody, but which makes me happy anyway that I'm involved in some sort of theater this fall. I also get to go through some rigorous stage combat lessons, because the director (who is totally the Chicago Mark Fortin) is inserting 3 different "war breaks" into the play which are going to be all Rushmore-d out with pyrotechnics and good stuff.
In closing: a friend from down the hall got both Anthony Hopkins and Chris Martin's (lead singer of Coldplay, because he's Gwyneth's hubby) autographs. Also: I had no clue that Philip Glass graduated from UChicago, but he totally did. So take that, Aniele and Shatner Building-which-isn't-really-named-after-Williams-Shatner.
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