"I would if I could, but I can't, so I won't." -I Know by Miles Neuvirth
That applies to writing for me. I would stop if I could. It's very time consuming, it's not good for social interaction, and it causes one's hand to cramp up after a while (I have yet to find a way to build up "writer's muscle").
However, I can't stop. Words fascinate me. Once we're gone, they are the only tangible thing that will remain that is ours.
I want to thank you for putting up with my ramblings and all of the help that you have given me during this semester. This has been a very good experience for me, and all I can be is grateful.
Best of luck to all of you!
Originally, this was supposed to just be an assignment for a class. However, I think I might have a bit of fun with it *insert awkward smiley face*
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Babies. They're good with ketchup.
Confession: I love a Modest Proposal. I've been working on making it into a duo with a friend for the past few months. Does liking snarky, sarcastic article about eating babies make me a terrible person? Maybe. Maybe.
Possibities for a New Modest Proposal (or perhaps a Flamboyant Suggestion?)
-dress codes (brown potato sacks)
-steriod use in athletics (all meds banned. Including cough drops)
-lunch programs (No soup for you!)
-health care (Those who are sick, even with the common cold, go die)
-rising gas prices
-global warming
-medical ethics
Possibities for a New Modest Proposal (or perhaps a Flamboyant Suggestion?)
-dress codes (brown potato sacks)
-steriod use in athletics (all meds banned. Including cough drops)
-lunch programs (No soup for you!)
-health care (Those who are sick, even with the common cold, go die)
-rising gas prices
-global warming
-medical ethics
Thanks Be!
Thankful: adj, concious of benefit recieved. Expressed gratitude.
Oftentimes, we don't realize just how much we have to be thankful for until we come close to losing it.
Over Thanksgiving break, there were two horrible accidents due to a drunk driver. Four people were hit in downtown Rochester, and one was killed. One of the people who was hit was my friend's brother.
Currently, he's doing alright. He's staying at home with a badly broken leg and arm. Physically, he is stable. But healing will take a long time. And there are only so many types of scars that time can heal.
In light of such devastation, it is very easy for me to be thankful. We have food, shelter, love, health, kindness, and joy. So many things pass by without recognition. Our lives flee away and we barely acknowledge them. But in this stillness, I remember all that I have and all that has been given to me. Truly, I am blessed.
But the thing that I am most thankful for was the smile on my friend's face after we took her out for the day. Even in pain, there is beauty.
Be thankful for what you have, because you never know when you are going to lose it.
Oftentimes, we don't realize just how much we have to be thankful for until we come close to losing it.
Over Thanksgiving break, there were two horrible accidents due to a drunk driver. Four people were hit in downtown Rochester, and one was killed. One of the people who was hit was my friend's brother.
Currently, he's doing alright. He's staying at home with a badly broken leg and arm. Physically, he is stable. But healing will take a long time. And there are only so many types of scars that time can heal.
In light of such devastation, it is very easy for me to be thankful. We have food, shelter, love, health, kindness, and joy. So many things pass by without recognition. Our lives flee away and we barely acknowledge them. But in this stillness, I remember all that I have and all that has been given to me. Truly, I am blessed.
But the thing that I am most thankful for was the smile on my friend's face after we took her out for the day. Even in pain, there is beauty.
Be thankful for what you have, because you never know when you are going to lose it.
Let's Be Logical
Somethings may not be logical, but they can be true.
Or, someone will be stubborn enough to make you believe that they are true.
Many of the arguments that I witness go in circles. One person says one thing, the other immediately says the opposite. They may argue using the same facts, but absolutely no logic. When logic enters into the argument it is not listened to. Logic is irrelevant. In the end, it's all about who can argue the longest.
According to Spock, "Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end". However, when one argues with logical fallacies, it might very well be the end.
Or, someone will be stubborn enough to make you believe that they are true.
Many of the arguments that I witness go in circles. One person says one thing, the other immediately says the opposite. They may argue using the same facts, but absolutely no logic. When logic enters into the argument it is not listened to. Logic is irrelevant. In the end, it's all about who can argue the longest.
According to Spock, "Logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end". However, when one argues with logical fallacies, it might very well be the end.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Controversy
In our society, you can't talk about politics, religion, or money without disagreeing with someone. Generally, it's better to avoid these topics, or be extremely gifted with diplomatic skills, if one wants to make it out of a place without frustration. Every person has an opinion, and it seems that we all like to share it.
So, how do we deal with our differences? Quite frankly, we don't. We are all so invested in our opinion that we can't wrap our minds around other ways of thinking. We may not know for sure that we are right, but we are trained to know that "they" are WRONG. Our persuasive arguements mainly comprise of varied forms of shouting. We scoff at others, but we never bother to look in the mirror at our own faults. If we did, who would be the one laughing?
So, how do we deal with our differences? Quite frankly, we don't. We are all so invested in our opinion that we can't wrap our minds around other ways of thinking. We may not know for sure that we are right, but we are trained to know that "they" are WRONG. Our persuasive arguements mainly comprise of varied forms of shouting. We scoff at others, but we never bother to look in the mirror at our own faults. If we did, who would be the one laughing?
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Permanence
Permanence: (n) the state or quality of remaining unchanging indefinitely.
Life, as we all know, is unpredictable. There is no way to control an outcome except to live through it. We are constantly changing. At times, we may feel lost, alone, and scared by our surroundings. We feel as if we have stepped off a train on the wrong station, surrounded by strangers who don't care about us. Our situation seems helpless at times.
So, many people try to change the one thing that they do have control over in this impermanent world. They change themselves. By changing their appearance, they get to change other's first impressions. A tattoo is one way to do this that will last forever. The permanence of a tattoo is its greatest attraction and largest detraction. Some people like the control that it shows; they truly can make a difference. Others worry that they might change and then the tattoo would lose its relevance to them. It's a double-edged sword.
Where do I stand on this issue? Honestly, I can't pick a side. To me, the tattoo is validated by the personal meaning that it has for the wearer. If there is no meaning in the tattoo, then it is rather pointless. Our bodies are belong to no other person, but they are a gift. We should not deface them, only add to their value.
Life, as we all know, is unpredictable. There is no way to control an outcome except to live through it. We are constantly changing. At times, we may feel lost, alone, and scared by our surroundings. We feel as if we have stepped off a train on the wrong station, surrounded by strangers who don't care about us. Our situation seems helpless at times.
So, many people try to change the one thing that they do have control over in this impermanent world. They change themselves. By changing their appearance, they get to change other's first impressions. A tattoo is one way to do this that will last forever. The permanence of a tattoo is its greatest attraction and largest detraction. Some people like the control that it shows; they truly can make a difference. Others worry that they might change and then the tattoo would lose its relevance to them. It's a double-edged sword.
Where do I stand on this issue? Honestly, I can't pick a side. To me, the tattoo is validated by the personal meaning that it has for the wearer. If there is no meaning in the tattoo, then it is rather pointless. Our bodies are belong to no other person, but they are a gift. We should not deface them, only add to their value.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Blood's Thicker than Water
"You may love us, you may hate us, but blood's thicker than the water at the bottom of the crick. Girl, you're stuck with us." - Grandpa Pete Oberfoell
Can you show me a perfect family? Has there ever been a family that hasn't had arguements, different opinions, or exasperation? Really, I think that one would have to lie to answer, "Yes," to that question. It's impossible. And even if such a family existed, their lack of conflict would be a problem in itself. We learn how to problem solve primarily from our family. Without those skills, we wouldn't be able to survive in the world. Dysfunction can be functional.
However, dysfunction is hurtful as well. Families are torn apart by it. People can become broken shells of what they once were. They feel as if they can trust no one.
Whether dysfunction can be constructive is hidden in shades of gray. Every situation is different. Everyone is unique. However, we all have a need to love and to be loved. When a family is incapable of this, then it is truly dysfunctional.
Can you show me a perfect family? Has there ever been a family that hasn't had arguements, different opinions, or exasperation? Really, I think that one would have to lie to answer, "Yes," to that question. It's impossible. And even if such a family existed, their lack of conflict would be a problem in itself. We learn how to problem solve primarily from our family. Without those skills, we wouldn't be able to survive in the world. Dysfunction can be functional.
However, dysfunction is hurtful as well. Families are torn apart by it. People can become broken shells of what they once were. They feel as if they can trust no one.
Whether dysfunction can be constructive is hidden in shades of gray. Every situation is different. Everyone is unique. However, we all have a need to love and to be loved. When a family is incapable of this, then it is truly dysfunctional.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Music
"The sweet, passionate melody captivated his heart from the first note; it was full of radiance, full of the tender throbbing of inspiration and happiness and beauty, continually growing and melting away; it rumoured of everything on earth that is dear and secret and sacred to mankind; it breathed of immortal sadness and it departed from the earth to die in the heavens."
That is music according to Ivan Turgenev.
How is it that music can trigger such emotion? How does sound bring that around? To be quite honest, I have no idea. Music can be more meaningful than words to me. A chord speaks volumes. If a picture is worth a thousand words, well, then a song must be worth millions. If I couldn't hear music, I wouldn't know how to express feelings as well.
See, people think on many levels at once. Our thoughts are all connected. Thinking of love makes you think of a person, which in turn can make you think of regret, happiness, or anger. And those emotions will carry your thoughts to entirely different realms. Music has a way of marrying all of these different thoughts together into one piece of work. It can speaks to each person in a different way. It layers the thoughts and weaves them so that you almost can see the mind of the author. It connects us as nothing else can.
Current Favorite Song: Miles Neuvirth: I Know
That is music according to Ivan Turgenev.
How is it that music can trigger such emotion? How does sound bring that around? To be quite honest, I have no idea. Music can be more meaningful than words to me. A chord speaks volumes. If a picture is worth a thousand words, well, then a song must be worth millions. If I couldn't hear music, I wouldn't know how to express feelings as well.
See, people think on many levels at once. Our thoughts are all connected. Thinking of love makes you think of a person, which in turn can make you think of regret, happiness, or anger. And those emotions will carry your thoughts to entirely different realms. Music has a way of marrying all of these different thoughts together into one piece of work. It can speaks to each person in a different way. It layers the thoughts and weaves them so that you almost can see the mind of the author. It connects us as nothing else can.
Current Favorite Song: Miles Neuvirth: I Know
Monday, October 4, 2010
It's a Novel for Your Face!
Who is the king of procrastination?
Facebook. Facebook, facebook, facebook.
If I could count the hours that I have spent not doing my homework while on that site, it would be a scary figure. For some reason, being constantly connected to every one's business is a must for the people of my generation. We relish the freedom that social networking gives us in defining who we are. We can look thinner, smarter, more educated, or more humorous. Shakespeare said that "all the world's a stage," but for some people today, Facebook provides our greatest performance.
When we are online, we do not have to be ourselves. We can control what everyone else gets to see. Perhaps this is the pull of social networking. Limits are eliminated. The bytes of information can be manipulated to create an entirely new being. You are just an avatar, an idealized version of yourself. This is freedom to some. They can appease every person. However, social networking exists on only one level. So, while you may be a star in cyberspace, you could just be an average joe in the real world. People are much more than what the internet can communicate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE6iAjEv9dQ
Facebook. Facebook, facebook, facebook.
If I could count the hours that I have spent not doing my homework while on that site, it would be a scary figure. For some reason, being constantly connected to every one's business is a must for the people of my generation. We relish the freedom that social networking gives us in defining who we are. We can look thinner, smarter, more educated, or more humorous. Shakespeare said that "all the world's a stage," but for some people today, Facebook provides our greatest performance.
When we are online, we do not have to be ourselves. We can control what everyone else gets to see. Perhaps this is the pull of social networking. Limits are eliminated. The bytes of information can be manipulated to create an entirely new being. You are just an avatar, an idealized version of yourself. This is freedom to some. They can appease every person. However, social networking exists on only one level. So, while you may be a star in cyberspace, you could just be an average joe in the real world. People are much more than what the internet can communicate.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE6iAjEv9dQ
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Writing Whatevers
For this week, I am given the freedom to write about whatever I fancy.
*evil laugh*
So, to start us off, let's take a look at the definition of absurd. According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, absurd means ridiculously unreasonable or having no rational or orderly relationship to human life. Well, there are many things that would suit this definition. However, my current favorite would have to be in the form of a musical, Oedipus for Kids!
This offbeat fringe musical marries children's theatre with ancient Greek mythology. And, it goes horribly wrong.
The concept of the play is that the theatre troupe, The Fuzzy Ducks, are trying to make the classics kid friendly. They claim to have made great plays such as "Titus Adronicus Makes a Cake!" and "Uncle Tommy's Cabin". The three members have embarked on the great challenge of adapting Oedipus Rex. However, all is not well within this troupe. Two of the members are in a divorce, and the other one has questionable acting methods. As they try to make the play a success, devious plots are revealed. Their conflict spills onto the stage and ends with general chaos.
Please note: this play is not for children.
After having been involved in children's theatre for many years, I have found that it doesn't always make sense. Trying to make anything appropriate and "politically correct" is nearly impossible. Plot lines must be eliminated, musical numbers added, and character development is to be kept to a minimum. For proof of this, just look at the text of any fairytale as compared to its Disney counterpart. Oedipus for Kids! does a brilliant job of poking fun at the absurd parts of children's theatre. Sometimes there is just no way make a thing kid-friendly. Especially when the original myth involves eye gouging, manslaughter, and incest. Oh dear...
http://www.oedipusforkids.com/astory.shtml
*evil laugh*
So, to start us off, let's take a look at the definition of absurd. According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, absurd means ridiculously unreasonable or having no rational or orderly relationship to human life. Well, there are many things that would suit this definition. However, my current favorite would have to be in the form of a musical, Oedipus for Kids!
This offbeat fringe musical marries children's theatre with ancient Greek mythology. And, it goes horribly wrong.
The concept of the play is that the theatre troupe, The Fuzzy Ducks, are trying to make the classics kid friendly. They claim to have made great plays such as "Titus Adronicus Makes a Cake!" and "Uncle Tommy's Cabin". The three members have embarked on the great challenge of adapting Oedipus Rex. However, all is not well within this troupe. Two of the members are in a divorce, and the other one has questionable acting methods. As they try to make the play a success, devious plots are revealed. Their conflict spills onto the stage and ends with general chaos.
Please note: this play is not for children.
After having been involved in children's theatre for many years, I have found that it doesn't always make sense. Trying to make anything appropriate and "politically correct" is nearly impossible. Plot lines must be eliminated, musical numbers added, and character development is to be kept to a minimum. For proof of this, just look at the text of any fairytale as compared to its Disney counterpart. Oedipus for Kids! does a brilliant job of poking fun at the absurd parts of children's theatre. Sometimes there is just no way make a thing kid-friendly. Especially when the original myth involves eye gouging, manslaughter, and incest. Oh dear...
http://www.oedipusforkids.com/astory.shtml
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Memories
It's strange. One of the people I admire the most, I truly knew the least. All the memories I have of my Grandma Monk are faded, remote, and with a bittersweet taste. I never had the chance to get to know her, but I did get to know her love.
Grandma Monk was the queen of her rowdy, Sacramento neighborhood. She was officially the mother of nine kids, and unofficially the mother of everyone else. When my dad was growing up, he says that it was rare for there not to be a visitor eating dinner with "Mama Monk". She and her husband, Gordan, my Grandpa Monk, were passionate about caring for humanity. They wanted to help solve the world's problems, and were stubborn enough to do so. Trying to win an argument with one of them would be like trying to complete one of Hercule's labors blindfolded while wearing a straitjacket.
At 5'1" my grandma did not cut an impressive or intimidating figure. However, this was the woman who could drink an entire pot of coffee and fall right asleep with her curly mop of hair hiding her face. When I first met her, I called her Grammy Leprechaun in my head. Very Irish, very loud, and magical all at once, it seems that the name was a perfect match.
When one went to Grandma for help, she made sure you got it. Your problems could range from a scraped knee to boys. It didn't matter. In the end, she would fix them all with a prayer, kiss, hug, and a sweet drink. If she loved you, there was no one in the world who could hurt you. She would take on anything for you.
However, all good things must come to an end. But, I still remember her with the utmost admiration. She taught me more than most anyone else. Living in her example is the best I can do.
Grandma Monk was the queen of her rowdy, Sacramento neighborhood. She was officially the mother of nine kids, and unofficially the mother of everyone else. When my dad was growing up, he says that it was rare for there not to be a visitor eating dinner with "Mama Monk". She and her husband, Gordan, my Grandpa Monk, were passionate about caring for humanity. They wanted to help solve the world's problems, and were stubborn enough to do so. Trying to win an argument with one of them would be like trying to complete one of Hercule's labors blindfolded while wearing a straitjacket.
At 5'1" my grandma did not cut an impressive or intimidating figure. However, this was the woman who could drink an entire pot of coffee and fall right asleep with her curly mop of hair hiding her face. When I first met her, I called her Grammy Leprechaun in my head. Very Irish, very loud, and magical all at once, it seems that the name was a perfect match.
When one went to Grandma for help, she made sure you got it. Your problems could range from a scraped knee to boys. It didn't matter. In the end, she would fix them all with a prayer, kiss, hug, and a sweet drink. If she loved you, there was no one in the world who could hurt you. She would take on anything for you.
However, all good things must come to an end. But, I still remember her with the utmost admiration. She taught me more than most anyone else. Living in her example is the best I can do.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Inspiration Comes in Many Forms
Inspiration: the action or power of moving the intellect or emotions.
I'm thinking that the definitions might become a habit. We all have to be on the same train of thought to understand, so clarifying the main point early on would probably help with that. We'll see.....
So, inspiration is what causes us to think. Since that is the case, one of the most inspirational songs that I know is, "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)," by Alan Jackson. It's very simple, yet beautiful and thought provoking.
Now, many people dislike this song on principle. First of all, it's a country song. Secondly, it's about September 11. And thirdly, it talks about emotions that many of us would prefer to keep buried.
See, as a society, we don't talk about things that truly matter. We hold them back, put on a brave face, and say, "I'm fine." Because if we talked about them, we would have to acknowledge that they are real. And if they are real, they can hurt us. We don't want to be hurt. Ironically, we just end up hurting more because of our avoidance.
This is not a political song. It is not the angry rant of one man wanting to take on the world. This is a song about emotions. When confronted with a situation where reality is shattered and the world truly seems to stop turning, how do you react? This song asks that question. It does not offer commentary or judgement. It challenges you to admit what you think is important.
If inspiration is what causes you to think, then this song deserves the title of inspirational. The thoughts that you confront may not be ones to your liking, but they are still there. If you are thinking, then you are inspired.
Alan Jackson~ Where Were You
I'm thinking that the definitions might become a habit. We all have to be on the same train of thought to understand, so clarifying the main point early on would probably help with that. We'll see.....
So, inspiration is what causes us to think. Since that is the case, one of the most inspirational songs that I know is, "Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)," by Alan Jackson. It's very simple, yet beautiful and thought provoking.
Now, many people dislike this song on principle. First of all, it's a country song. Secondly, it's about September 11. And thirdly, it talks about emotions that many of us would prefer to keep buried.
See, as a society, we don't talk about things that truly matter. We hold them back, put on a brave face, and say, "I'm fine." Because if we talked about them, we would have to acknowledge that they are real. And if they are real, they can hurt us. We don't want to be hurt. Ironically, we just end up hurting more because of our avoidance.
This is not a political song. It is not the angry rant of one man wanting to take on the world. This is a song about emotions. When confronted with a situation where reality is shattered and the world truly seems to stop turning, how do you react? This song asks that question. It does not offer commentary or judgement. It challenges you to admit what you think is important.
If inspiration is what causes you to think, then this song deserves the title of inspirational. The thoughts that you confront may not be ones to your liking, but they are still there. If you are thinking, then you are inspired.
Alan Jackson~ Where Were You
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Assigned Post 1.2
Now, I'm not sure if there will be a part one to this post. I was having trouble formulating my ideas. Well, actually, I was having trouble narrowing it down to a reasonable topic. So, I went through several ideas before I decided. I got to choose from blogging about writing, college, or education. I ended up choosing writing. I'm fascinated by it. So, this post could get a little weird. Just bear with me.
Writing. Writing means words. Words...well, let's start off with a definition.
According to Merriam Webster Dictionary, the word, "word" means: a speech sound or series of speech sounds that symbolizes and communicates a meaning usually without being divisible into smaller units capable of independent use.
Confession: that went a bit over my head. However, that's communication put into the simplest, most scientific terms. Words are thoughts that others can hear. The written word puts makes these thoughts visible and saves them. Once you write something down, it's going to be there for a while. Even if you're just writing in the sand, having the waves wash your words away, they'll still be there longer than spoken words.
Writing causes people to be aware of their thoughts. Each word has to be chosen carefully for specific reasons. Many words will mean the same thing, but each one is different enough to change your meaning. When you write, you try to find exactly the right words to string together to make your thoughts as clear as possible. This is why being able to write well is critically important. If you write poorly, your thoughts aren't clear. If your thoughts aren't clear, neither is your meaning. If your meaning is lost, well, so are you.
Writing. Writing means words. Words...well, let's start off with a definition.
According to Merriam Webster Dictionary, the word, "word" means: a speech sound or series of speech sounds that symbolizes and communicates a meaning usually without being divisible into smaller units capable of independent use.
Confession: that went a bit over my head. However, that's communication put into the simplest, most scientific terms. Words are thoughts that others can hear. The written word puts makes these thoughts visible and saves them. Once you write something down, it's going to be there for a while. Even if you're just writing in the sand, having the waves wash your words away, they'll still be there longer than spoken words.
Writing causes people to be aware of their thoughts. Each word has to be chosen carefully for specific reasons. Many words will mean the same thing, but each one is different enough to change your meaning. When you write, you try to find exactly the right words to string together to make your thoughts as clear as possible. This is why being able to write well is critically important. If you write poorly, your thoughts aren't clear. If your thoughts aren't clear, neither is your meaning. If your meaning is lost, well, so are you.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
An Introduction
Sometimes... I just go for it.
Now, if I could, I would follow up that enigmatic quote with Bert McCracken's amazing piano piece of the same title. However, my piano skills are not quite to that level. Apparently, not practicing does not help them. Hm. Strange, yes? Oh well.
To be quite honest, I've got absolutely no clue on how to start this whole thing off. This blog was started as part of an English class I'm taking for PSEO. But, this could end up being a lot of fun. That is, if y'all can get through my ramblings.
And speaking of ramblings, maybe I should just go to the beginning and start from there. This post is quite a bit out of order.
My name is Molly Marie Margaret Monk. Yes, it's a lot M's. I was born in Sierra Vista, Arizona, which is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I've moved around a few times, but my family is pretty well settled in Rochester now. I love being outside, but extreme humidity or extreme cold turns that love into disgust. I'm the sort of person who actually enjoys 110 degrees with no humidity at all. You know, the weather that makes you feel like you're a piece of bacon, crackling on the sidewalk. Yep. That's who I am.
I've gotten involved with theatre during the past few years, and I've discovered just how much I love it. I'm currently in a troupe called, "The Otherwise Actors," at the Rochester Civic Theatre. We're a conglomeration of pretty much everything. Fairy sketches, zombie musical numbers, Shakespeare, Willy Wonka, well, we've got it all. Our show is on August 29th at 7:00pm if you're interested in some laughs!
I still haven't described myself very well. I guess, all that matters is that sometimes... I just go for it.
Now, if I could, I would follow up that enigmatic quote with Bert McCracken's amazing piano piece of the same title. However, my piano skills are not quite to that level. Apparently, not practicing does not help them. Hm. Strange, yes? Oh well.
To be quite honest, I've got absolutely no clue on how to start this whole thing off. This blog was started as part of an English class I'm taking for PSEO. But, this could end up being a lot of fun. That is, if y'all can get through my ramblings.
And speaking of ramblings, maybe I should just go to the beginning and start from there. This post is quite a bit out of order.
My name is Molly Marie Margaret Monk. Yes, it's a lot M's. I was born in Sierra Vista, Arizona, which is one of the most beautiful places in the world. I've moved around a few times, but my family is pretty well settled in Rochester now. I love being outside, but extreme humidity or extreme cold turns that love into disgust. I'm the sort of person who actually enjoys 110 degrees with no humidity at all. You know, the weather that makes you feel like you're a piece of bacon, crackling on the sidewalk. Yep. That's who I am.
I've gotten involved with theatre during the past few years, and I've discovered just how much I love it. I'm currently in a troupe called, "The Otherwise Actors," at the Rochester Civic Theatre. We're a conglomeration of pretty much everything. Fairy sketches, zombie musical numbers, Shakespeare, Willy Wonka, well, we've got it all. Our show is on August 29th at 7:00pm if you're interested in some laughs!
I still haven't described myself very well. I guess, all that matters is that sometimes... I just go for it.
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