Red Notebook: September 9, 2002

September 9, 2002

Tonite, I attended my first poetry reading. Can you believe it? Me, of all people, at a poetry reading. It was actually sort of interesting. I kind of had this idea in my mind of what I though it would be like: some guy getting up in front of a bunch of people, reciting poem after poem about shit I could care less about. Endless and daunting; an otherwise waste of time. But the guy, Jonathon Johnson was loud, articulate, funny, and VERY insightful. During the Q&A segment, I asked him how to cure writer's block. I have to try it sometime. He’s just a really nice guy.
Let’s see...I have this Oedipus quiz tomorrow...grr. I’ve heard stories about these quizzes. I’ve been through the story and my notes what seems like a hundred times. You know what? Fuck it. If I don’t know it now, I won’t know it tomorrow. But I think I have a pretty good grasp on it though. I actually like the story! It was very easy to understand (compared to Shakespeare) and everything was so intertwined. You know, I’m actually looking forward to failing it. That way I’ll know what to expect next time.
Auditions are tomorrow. Wish me luck ladies.
I swear my handwriting gets weirder and weirder.
Cheers.
J. Didn’t I tell you she was funny?

Introduction

I deleted my two previous blogs because I got sick of the drama. Yes.
I suppose I should come to expect it, being involved in theatre and having most my friends involved with it as well.
I got sick of having to read about my friends instead of them coming and telling me things. I shouldn't have to look up your lives until after you die, not while you're still alive. I keep tabs on some. Others...no.


This is not a comeback blog.


When I was home this summer, I found the journals I was to keep for two classes during my first year in college. I intend to type them up and post them here. Nothing on the World Wide Web ever really disappears, much like the first law of thermodynamics. If something happens to this journal, at least I'll know that it's floating around out there somewhere and will never die.

Those two years at UW-Fox were the two best years of my adult life. These journals should speak for themselves.