Okay, I'm going to start off by saying that when I finished my last entry with "I'll be back in a month"... I didn't intend it to be literal. But regardless of my intentions, an entire 36 days has passed since I last sat at my laptop and blogged. That's an entire 5.583 with a repeating decimal days longer than an average month. Then again, since 2004 is a leap year, it's only 5.5 days longer than an average month. Can you not tell why I am going to be a math major? You've got a nerdish quality too... don't deny it. Anyways... my sincere apologies to people who obsessively read my blogs as if it were the daily horoscopes found in the newspaper, or the sports section, or political campaign updates, or whatever other article you personally find pleasure in reading daily. I bet you're still thinking about your nerdish quality aren't you? I'll give you a hint... If you're checking whether or not my calculations were correct, you're a math nerd too.

I've realized a few things during my month off, a few... thoughts of wisdom if you'd like. First, my blogs have been lessening in humor quality. I've pondered over possible explanations before realizing well... that I had to ponder some more. To tell you the truth, I think I've been so busy procrastinating that it's too much for me to try and be funny. Even right now, as we speak... well, as I type.... I should be studying for a french test tomorrow. This is a classic example of my case. The majority of my time each day is spent deciding whether I should be working or doing activities which always seem to be more important... such as aimlessly surfing the web or walking across campus to check my mailbox for the 3rd time that day. I've come to a decision and I'm going to make a promise to you today. I'm going to step it up. Bring back some of that good old Trisha blog humor that recently seems to be found only in past entries. It's just like classic TV re-runs or old-school pop music. Why can't what's out today be as good as what was offered in the golden past? Why is nostalgia more comforting than the present? I'm going to change the rules right here, right now. Starting today, new blogs will be as funny as the old... instant classics every time!

Okay, I was getting out of hand with that theme so I decided to stop there. It just needed to end. Enough said. Instead, I'm going to tell you a story about how cool I am. I love these stories! Nothing's better than talking about the awesome dorkiness of me! ...Well, I'll admit that that's a lie what I said right there, I just got carried away and I'm too lazy to go back and erase it. Okay, this particular story started on a dark and stormy night. No... It's not the story of the Lee Lund ghost again, but bravo to you if you picked up on that... I've just realized that your nerdish quality is reading my blogs too much. Congratulations! ;) Back to my story... did I even start it yet? The setting: I'm in my dorm room, all alone (don't forget I said it was a dark and stormy night) and I'm staring, wide-eyed at what was in my hands. Unable to move, I could feel my heartrate increasing as I read the latest copy of the Wheaton Wire, completely enthralled in this week's issue. In this particular week's paper, they decided to share Wheaton College's ghost stories. Dun dun dunnnnnn!!!! I know what you're thinking.... and yes, it was probably printed at this time because Halloween is in a mere 3 days. You're smart enough to be a Wheatie, I can tell! Every college has their ghost stories, but not every college has true ghost stories! And Wheaton's are true. You know how I know? Because they wouldn't print it and let the whole school read it if it weren't true, silly! Wow... my own fake stupidity is even starting to get on my nerves. Anyways, one of the stories was about the ghost of Mary Armstrong who haunts the library. She worked in Wheaton's library from 1924-1929. Why did she leave in 1929 after only five years of work you ask? The answer isn't pretty. She committed suicide that year. Her spirit is said to be seen passing through the library hallways. Lights turn on and off and empty elevators descend to the stacks after hours. A favorite hobby of alums is to make a field trip out of it and spend the night in the library looking for her ghost. Of everyone who has stayed the night in the old library, the only common sign of "Aunt Mary's" spirit that they all have found is that the book entitled "Between Life and Death" had seemingly been pushed off the stacks as each party walked by.

Got it? So that's where the ghost story ends, now here comes the coolness of me part! This story made me curious. So naturally I headed over to the library. I contemplated sitting by the elevator near the stacks until closing time, 2:00 a.m., but decided that that would be way beyond even my normal level of procrastination. Instead, I looked up where "Between Life and Death" was located in the library. I went down to find it in the stacks, which are always empty and I'll admit pretty creepy. It's one of those places you just randomly start running out of because you start to freak yourself out. You know the sort, I'm sure. Anyways, so I find this book. I sat there for awhile and flipped through the pages. I don't know what I expected to happen, but I still sat there flipping those pages. I put the book back on the shelf and looked over both my shoulders before turning to leave. I'll admit, those little hairs on the back on my neck were raised. Then, I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned back around.... No, the book didn't fall off the shelf- calm down! But I thought to myself, imagine how creeped out I would have been if when I went down to find the book in the stacks, I found it lying on the floor. I'm not into the whole ghost thing (can't you tell), but that would have seriously freaked me out a bit. So, why not let someone else experience it? I went back to the shelf, took the book, and left it face up on the floor. Aren't I so clever? I bet I creeped someone out to the extreme! Hahaha, I'm the biggest dork on the Wheaton campus! Who would do that besides me? Why would anyone do that? I sure don't know the answer. But hey, I'm just keeping the ghost story alive! There were other ghost stories in the Wire that were just as intriguing, but I wasn't prepared to go steal the key to the basement of Emerson which has been locked for 60 years just to find out what had killed the old janitor and his dog. And you're crazy if you thought I'd spend the night in the closet where Eve Everett was strangled to death by her boyfriend. The scratch marks are still on the walls! Forget about going to the graveyard that's across from campus on Halloween night. I'm just going to head over to the coffee shop where the old president choked on a croissant 30 years back and let his spirit scare me for the night!

So I made that last one up, whatcha gonna do? It's better than if I had said he was killed by the giant snapping turtle that lives in the pond, isn't it? Have a great Halloween. Stay clear of librarians who may seem a little on the depressed side, asking them when a book is due may put them over the edge. Don't follow around any janitor that has a dog, or boyfriends who have a habit of strangling people. And why not? Avoid presidents with croissants as well. Just avoid croissants. Stick to candy.

Okay, so some people have been yelling at me because I haven't blogged in awhile. Sorry that I actually have a life. Really, there's not all that much to talk about though. All's going good here in the Wheaton bubble. The dance company people are cool... we go to dinner as a company every night after rehearsal. We're already done with two entire dance pieces, one of which is 7 whole minutes long. Our first performance is already coming up on October 23rd... mark those calanders!!! I had to get 2 new types of dance shoes and I ordered them through discountdance. Well, 6 days and $100 later they came in and neither of them were at all what I expected. So... I'm forcing Kim to bring me to a dance supplies store this weekend. She's coming up to visit... it's not like I'm making her drive me all the way from CT, that would be crazinity.

Speaking of crazinity, my life has been a little hectic up here and I don't even know why. I'm constantly on the go. That's such a weird expression. Anyways... between dance, work, classes and such I have very little "free time". It's strange too because my classes are so much easier and I have so much less work than last year. It creeps me out. Why is college easier than high school? I tend to think it's because 3/4 of my classes are basically repeats of what I've already taken in h.s. : calculus (by the way I love my new prof), writing about poetry (basically a review of freedman's mod. poetry), and french (which is approximately the level of my freshman year class in h.s). Maybe that's why I'm having an easy semester, I don't know... But this is like my typical Tuesday, which isn't so different from the rest of my other days really. I get up at 8:00, get ready and go get breakfast. I have work in the admissions office from 9-11 and then class from 11-12:30. Half hour break which I spend in my dorm, simply breathing. Class from 1-2. Lunch immediately after class and then back to the dorm to do a little bit of hw after obsessively checking my wheaton email to see if I have a package that day. Dance from 4-6ish and then dinner right afterwards with all of the dance girls. Shower. Run off to some meeting or group assignment thing or something. At this point, it's 9:30 and I'm exhausted and I do a little bit of work and then go hang out with the people down the hall for a bit. It's a little too crazy of a daily schedule for me.

In other, still Wheaton related, news... two of my roommates are already moving out this weekend. Caitrin and Lisa are heading to another dorm. It's only a matter of time before I get kicked out of the lounge. I wrote the most heartfelt email of my life to the student life lady, begging to be allowed to stay somewhere in Young. Oh man, oh man, I hope it works! This next thing is completely random but I have to share anyways. Wheaton is infested with animals. I have never seen more squirrels, rabbits, bats (yes, I said bats), cats or dogs anywhere before! You can't walk from lower campus to upper without running into, that's literally running into, like 30 squirrels and several rabbits. Wheaton college is being taken over by them, I swear. My own dorm room already has been invaded by a stray dog that decided to walk into our room and almost a skunk too... that's a funny story that I don't feel like sharing. Notice how I don't share the funny stuff?

Kimberly is getting two tickets to see Wicked for her birthday and I am her guest of honor. I am so beyond excited! I'm even going to get to see Idina Menzel in it, because they extended her contract an extra week, so now it includes the date we're going to see the show. For those of you non-wicked fanatics, Idina Menzel is the lead in the show and beyond amazing and if I didn't get to see her in it before she left, my life would not have been complete.

The only reason I had a chance to write this is because my classes and work was cancelled today, for inexplainable reasons that I don't really care about. But, I have to get ready for dance now, so I'll be back in like a month to write. If you're lucky!!! ;)

Nothing funny about this blog... just sharing a new story on my adventures at Wheaton. The theme of this lil blog is about my Wheaton Dance Company audition. First, I'll give you the pre-audition info... maybe you'll be as creeped out as I was. Well... creeped out isn't the right phrase, but I don't want to spend time actually figuring out what it is I'm trying to say, so for lack of better phrases that are currently circulating in my head... creeped out works just fine.

So... I went to talk to the director of the dance company a few days before the audition. A woman by the name of Cheryl Mrozowski. I walked into her office as she was cleaning it, but she gladly invited me in. She asked the usual questions... how long I've been dancing, what styles I do etc. I even prepared for the "what specific techniques have you learned?" question by going online (specifically google with 'dance techniques choreographer' typed into the search engine) and refreshing my memory just minutes before I left for her office. It's a good thing too because the question was asked and I could easily roll Cecchetti, Humphrey-Weidman, Horton etc. off my tongue as if I actually knew those were the techniques I've studied in the past. Anyways, then she told me that last year there were only like 6 girls in the company and she didn't take anyone new in last year because everyone who auditioned wasn't up to par with what level she wanted the company to be at. (hopefully not visible) Nervousness took over me. She made it sound as if I had no chance of getting in. Then she asked if I had sent in a dance video with my application. When I said no she told me "well, that's a good thing because the ones I received weren't very good at all" while smiling as if to say I still had a slight chance. Finally she asked the dreaded question.... Do I consider myself an advanced dancer? You see, there is really no way to correctly answer that question. You may be advanced where you come from, but then take a class at Broadway Dance Center and make a fool of yourself. There are always people better than you and people worse than you. And if you say yes then they'll think you're overly confident and cocky, but if you say no then they'll think you're awful. My response? "Well... I would say I'm a good dancer, yes". Was that a safe response? I still am not sure...

Basically, I walked out of her office feeling like this was going to be incredibly competitive and I'd be at this audition with those freakish people who can do 6 turns and switch leaps as easily as they can rattle off the alphabet. I thought I had no chance. Skipping ahead a few days, my nervousness all the while increasing, and the audition day arrives. The biggest thing on my mind at this point is whether or not I'll have to wear shoes at the audition. I know it sounds like a crazy thought, considering most people are nervous about other aspects... but I'm used to the barefoot ways of Lee Lund. I don't like dancing in shoes. Anyways, so I arrive in the dance studio and there are like 30 girls there or something like that. I pick out my number and sit down to stretch while doing my favorite thing at an audition, observing others. It was hard to tell at this point if the other girls would be good dancers or not. It's hard to tell just by appearance, although some looked more like dancers than others, and believe it or not, very few people were stretching, so I couldn't tell if they were overly flexible or anything. So, we start the warmup, barefoot might I add, and it was pretty straight forward. Then, after putting on shoes (grrrr) we do a really simple, basic across the floor thing consisting of kicks, pas de bourrees, and turns. I was relieved after this exercise. A lot of the people auditioning had no technique whatsoever. I felt like I actually had a chance. Next, we did a significantly more difficult, upbeat and stylistic across the floor thing and finally a lyrical type of jazz combination. The girls who were in the company last year were all really good dancers, very strong. But most of the people auditioning weren't up to their level. Three hours later, the audition was over and I felt really good. Not only did I feel like I actually had a shot at getting in, but I thoroughly enjoyed the audition. It felt more like a normal dance class to me than an audition and it felt soooo good to dance again. The postings would go up that night about the first cut.

Cutting to the chase here, I made it past the first cut. The next step in the audition process was a ballet class. The class was taught in a different style from what I'm used to and the petit allegro had steps in it that I've literally never seen before. Luckily, the director was talking to the dance captain while only occasionally glancing up when I had to do the petit allegro. It was scary because I wasn't used to the particular style of ballet and we had to do alot of the class only 2 people at a time, meaning that if the other person didn't know what was going on then you had no one to help you out. But in general, the class wasn't as intense as Debi's ballet. I missed that intensity. I was actually hoping for some plea releves, but I didn't even get so much as a "hold that arabesque for another 8". Disappointing. I was still sore the next day however. I couldn't tell after the ballet class if I was going to get in or not. There were only 12 people at the ballet class, including the girls who were in the company last year, and everyone seemed to be on a similar level. Cutting to the second chase, I got in. Woohoo! I was so excited. There are only 8 girls in the company, and I think I'm the only new person, and then there are four understudies. We have rehearsals 5 days a week for 2 hours each day. I can't wait until it all begins. I am soooooo happy about it! I was going to start this blog by saying "Nothing funny about this blog... just sharing my excitement" but then I realized that it would be a spoiler. So I changed it to create a sense of anticipation. I hope you appreciate my careful editing. I can't think of a clever way to end this, and again, I don't feel like racking my brain, so this is how it's ending.

Okay, so I've been up at school for a little over a week now... actually, it's closer to a little under a week and a half if you want to be accurate here... and I'm finally starting to adjust. You may laugh at that finally because I've only been here for 10 days and that's hardly an amount of time that would call for a "finally".... but believe me, it felt like a finally to me! Everyone actually is saying that it feels like we've been here for a month. But then it's like... it's only been 10 days!!!! It just doesn't seem possible. My sense of time is all distorted. I've been incredibly busy during the time I've been here, and almost never in my dorm... so now that I have a moment to actually breathe (even though it's past midnight and I have classes tomorrow) I finally have an opportunity to blog. I hope you're pleased.

The turning point for me was the day I broke down. You see, I was crying everyday since I got here because I wasn't happy. But I'd only cry at night, so it was well hidden from others. Well, one day I couldn't postpone it until the 10 p.m. or later hours and I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't want to be in my room with my three roommates. Not that I don't like them, but I don't particularly enjoy crying in front of people... especially because people means more than one person. So... I aimlessly went wandering down the hall, not knowing exactly where I was headed. I knew that I had to talk to someone, but I didn't really know or trust anyone yet. Well... this girl Stephanie was in her room by herself with her door wide open. At this point, she seemed nice from what I've seen of her.... so, cutting to the chase here.... I invited myself in. After like 2 seconds, well.... maybe 11, she realized something was wrong. I started crying again and I talked to her for a good amount of time, telling her what was on my mind and stuff I've gone through. She was really nice and helpful. I can't tell you how much better I felt afterwards. It comforted me just knowing that someone else on campus knew about my past and how I was feeling about adjusting to college. She started inviting me places, whenever she was going out... which I still feel kind of weird about... like it's just a sympathy thing or something. But, regardless of that... like I said, talking to her made me feel a whole lot better and more confident again. And now I have a good group of friends! Finally!!!!!

So... I have to tell you about my friends now. They're six of us that hang out together and we're all on the same floor of the same dorm, Young 1st. I'll start with Stephanie since I've already introduced you to her. Stephanie is from Wisconsin... very outgoing, funny, sassy, and down to earth. She is just a lot of fun to be around and has the funniest laugh (and pinkie fingers) ever. I'm very relaxed and happy when around Stephanie. Next there's Genevieve, or Genna. She's from D.C. and she has so much energy! She has a really cool, sophisticated, unique fashion sense that no one else can pull off. Genna is very much so into politics and she's very interesting to talk to. She's very fun and can always make you smile just because of her energy and personality. Hmm... this is starting to feel like I'm writing personal ads for them or something. Anyways... continuing.... Sarah is from Maine and she is very relaxed and down to earth. She's very real and I don't know why but to me she gives off a sort of earthy vibe. She's in my french class and is cool to hang out with. She's very nice, just like the rest of them! I'll go with Liz next... might as well stay in the same gender for now... it's funny because Liz is the one I knew the least three days ago, but now she's one of the one's I know the most. She is very fun, and I'd say probably the closest in personality to my "typical friends" from back home. We got a caricature done together today at the bbq outside my dorm. She's very friendly and genuine. Last, but certainly not least, is Reid. Reid is amazing. He is probably the single most genuinely friendly, sincere gentleman that exists in the world. We all sort of have an obsession with Reid. He just makes you smile. He is hilarious as well, without even trying. Everything he says cracks us up... even if it's not funny... just his facial expressions and tone are hilarious. Reid is just great. I'm very happy with the group of friend's I've made here so far.

Already, I've gone into both Providence and Boston, written my first paper, been called about three job offerings, been hit on by a drunk senior, spent an entire 10 hours straight in the library, and gone out every night only to get in well past 1:00... well, every night! I'm already feeling like a college student! Providence and Boston were sooooo much fun, although I must say that nothing compares to NYC. In Providence we went to dinner and a movie for an entire $5 total. A-mazing! We ate at Fire and Ice which is this really cool stirfry place. It's set up like a buffet with all sorts of vegetables, fruits, pastas, sauces and meats and you pick out what you want, bring it to this HUGE center of the room, circular grill thing and they cook it for you right there. It has an amazing atmosphere too. I loved it! Then, the six of us went to see Wicker Park which was really good. It was hysterical... the entire audience got soooo into this movie. We were majorly LLOLing, booing, clapping... the works. It was just so good. The filmography in and of itself was amazing, so it was one of those movies where even if you didn't like the story line, you could appreciate the artistic aspect of it. The chronology was really confusing, but we sorted it out in a chat after the movie. We walked to the Cheesecake Factory for dessert but there was like an hour wait. So instead we went into this classy, elegant, mucho expensive restaurant. It was closed. But, the guy let us in anyways. Oh, the perks of being a college female. The desserts were unbelievable! Here we were in our jeans and t-shirts, laughing obnoxiously loud, in this highclass "fine dining" type of restaurant where the desserts were $10 each for things so tiny that you could finish the entire thing in under 20 seconds, which Genna and Liz actually pulled off.... literally.... having a great time. We even got the waiter to take a picture of us, as if we weren't already annoying him enough. College students.... geez!

Today we went into Boston, even though we all have papers due tomorrow that are sitting in our rooms, quite unfinished. It was my first real trip into Boston. It is very clean and very visually pleasing. It actually felt more like a New Haven to me though than a New York, based on size and offerings and such. We walked up and down Newbury Street, going into the occasional store, but only actually buying anything at CVS. We needed to stock our rooms with food to escape the "food" of Chase dining hall which became boring all too quickly. We got dinner at this Vietnamese place. This was my first encounter with Vietnamese food. I now know that I love summer rolls. I don't even know what they are, but they were soooooo good. I didn't think I would like them because I hate eggrolls, but these were yummy. I got some chicken noodle soup thing which was also good, except it had onions in it and it was sometimes hard to decipher the noodles from the strands of onion. Luckily, I only gagged once and was mostly able to avoid the onion. I must say however, that the most enjoyable part of the trip... if you can say enjoyable... was driving up there and driving back. Boston is really only a 40 minute drive from campus. However, with Reid driving and Stephanie giving him directions while stroking his hair and teasing him, it took us roughly an hour and a half to get up there. We got a little lost. We kind of drove by our exit once. Oh well, no problem... there's an alternate route that would be shorter than turning around. The only problem is that we drove by that exit too. Reid had a little trouble concentrating on his driving. Needless to say, we got there eventually... and in one piece. There were a few times I didn't think we were going to make it. First of all, we drove the entire way up there with the gas on E, so we were certain that we would lose gas in the middle of the highway and get crushed from behind by some unassuming, speeding vehicle. Also, Reid's car doesn't have working signals. This doesn't make it easy when driving in a city, especially when that city is Boston. There were a few times though that we had to clutch the seats or the side door or whatever we could grab onto so that we didn't go flying all around the car. I swear to you, Reid made one U-Turn very, very quickly and the tires on one side of the car came off of the ground. I thought we were done for. To this moment, I am shocked that the car did not flip over. It's not that Reid's a reckless driver. He was more frightened than any of us were. It's just that his car is old, and stick shift, with uncertain acceleration and brakes... sometimes they hardly worked, and sometimes they worked way too well. It was an adventure, and we laughed in the face of death. I spent a good 110% of my time in that car either laughing or screaming, or both simultaneously. I like my Young 1sters!

P.S. Don't worry Kimberly, they're not as amusing as you and I'm not as weird with them.

Well... I'm here. Up at Wheaton... and well, it's definitely going to take some getting used to. After my first day I was ready to call up my mom and tell her to bring me home... I kid you not. It just wasn't at all what I was hoping my first day would be like. I was going into it pretty confident, but those high spirits basically ended around the first hour after my family left and I tried interacting with people. Believe it or not, I was being the outgoing and friendly one who always said "Hi. I'm Trisha." ... (response)... "where are you from?"....(more response that slowly turns itself into a polite, but forced conversation). So, I guess technically I met a lot of people. However, almost everyone seemed very stand-offish or shy. Not that shy is bad, it's just hard when you're trying to meet people. I thought I was suppossed to be the shy one. I got very discouraged when by the end of the day there already seemed to be cliques. I mean, these people have known each other for what... 6 or 7 hours at this point, yet they're all hugging and laughing like they've been best friends for years. Everyone was walking around with a group of people. Not Trisha. I got upset and cried for a bit outside of my dorm. I mean... I know people are just trying to get to know one another, but at the moment I felt like... they've gotten to know who they want to know and they don't want to know anyone else and that includes me. Very wrong, I know... (well, I hope anyways).... but it was just cause of the events and emotionness of the day. I didn't get off to a great start. Especially because the first few people I talked to ended up being really mean and judgmental. Oh well, they can't all be that way here, right? I mean, I'm sure it wasn't something Wheaton was considering in the admissions process. Speaking of which, my first day was also very intimidating. Some important administration lady decided to list off some of my class's accomplishments during her opening speech thing. Oh my god. I can only imagine how intimidated I would have felt if I ever did get into like Brown or Amherst. In my freshman class there is everything from published writers in global magazines and newspapers, founders of important "community service" type programs in foreign countries, #1 winners in all sorts of national intelligence-required type of awards, multilingual people (and by multilingual I mean 11 languages), all sorts of singers and instrument player people with like multiple cds and resumes that include carnegie hall... and I don't know what else. I prolly could have given better examples because I remember thinking that I wouldn't be surprised if she said one of the Wheaton freshman discovered a cure for AIDS. It was beyond intimidating, and really cool at the same time. I got extra frustrated by the end of the night when we were forced to squeeze 800 sweaty people into a chapel to hear Wheaton's traditions and urban legend ghost story things. And that's not even the problem. We were stuck in there for one and a half hours and we couldn't hear a thing. The upperclassmen were screaming and chanting and banging pots and pans the entire time. So I had to sit in a lake of people's sweat for over an hour only to leave with pulsing ear drums and not having heard one single tradition or story. Then, we had to form a circle around the entire circumphrence of the lake with a lit candle. The candles went out like 800 times, and I got splashed (meaning more than just a little wet) by some guys who thought it would be fun to strip down and swim in the scummy lake. Almost, but not quite, the perfect ending to my first day. I decided, even though I was already upset at this point, to go to the Loft Night and make another attempt to meet some people. Well, as I make my way over there, I pass by a billion little groups of friends that were just formed. When I actually made it to the Loft, there was virtually no one there. Sooo... my last attempt of the day was also a failure and I decided I'd have to take the long walk of shame back across campus to my dorm.... all alone. Off to a rough start... and after day 2 it's no better for me. Sigh. It'll happen.

Hi there! I just came back from my "week" aka 3/4 days in NYC. So much fun! I'm apologizing in advance, because this will be one of the longest blogs I've had in a while. They seem to keep getting longer and longer, but this one will be especially bad. Go ahead, I'll give you a minute to scroll down and see just how long this blog is...

Now that you've got that out of your system, I'll tell you about my trip. First though, I have to mention my night before we left. I stayed at Kimberly's house because our train was leaving relatively early the next morning. Now, normally a night at Kimberly's house is a blog in and of itself, but I don't have the patience to divide the last four days into four separate entries, so that's why you're getting this one ridiculously too long blog. Maybe I would save space if I stopped preparing you for how long this will be. Be more efficient, Trisha! So... we were looking up baby names online because I wanted to prove to her that the name Claudia means "stupid person" or something like that. It actually means "lame"... but that's an unnecessary piece of trivial information. Interestingly enough, like half of the names that exist in this crazy world either have something to do with being noble, beautiful, or a meadow. Well, not being a meadow, but the names would have some connotation with the word. Kinda strange. Never name your kid Cecilia (or Claudia). While at this baby names site we found some pretty funny names which we decided to adopt as our own. I am Pooky... which believe it or not was on this website, and it said it means "cute, little person" which just cracked me up beyond belief. Kim is Beauregard, because she found it amusing to say this name over and over again. And we decided Amy would be Thor. Don't ask why we included her in this and subjected her to this embarrassing nickname. I don't know. If your name is Pooky, Beauregard, or Thor I apologize for lowering your self-esteem. I guess that goes for all you Claudias and Cecilias as well. So, then we decided to make nicknames for the nicknames. They are now Pookster, Beauregizzle, and T. Ho (or my favorite, T. to the Hor). Kim decided that as a group we could be the Pancake Batter Trio, or PBT... and she woke me up in the middle of the night to share this idea with me. Speaking of the middle of the night, it was no ordinary night at Kim's house. All of a sudden, while I was sleeping, I felt a pillow being pulled out from under my head. I hear Kim murmur, "I'll give it back in a minute. Gidget just told me to check the style number." ... Yeah, Kim talked to me in her sleep. The funniest part though is that I was so tired that I thought she was being completely normal. I was like, 'Oh, okay. She's just checking the style number. I'll get it back in a minute'. Needless to say, after checking it over for a few seconds she gave it back and I fell asleep again.

The first day in NYC was fun. We went to the Met (art museum, not opera house) with my cousin Stephen. We stayed in his apartment in Kew Gardens for the time we were down there. There was some cool stuff there... I mean at the Met, not my cousin's apartment... although he did have a lot of cool scripts and jazz. Anyways, I decided that I am going to paint a single black line on a blank canvas and sell it for 5 million dollars. A lot of the modern art section was stuff like that. One thing was actually a bunch of ribbons covered in tar. Another was a huge chunk of cardboard with cotton sticking out of it. They had a lot of cool stuff there though. We went to the wax museum that day too, which was also fun. These things looked more real the closer you got to them and they looked identical to the celebrities they were made to look like. It creeped me out to the extreme. It is my new goal in life to be made out of wax. It would be so cool! Then I could finally "see" what I look like. I mean, I can look in a mirror, but I always wonder how other people see me, in 3D and all. If I had a wax me, it would be like having a twin. An inanimate twin, but a twin nonetheless. It took a few hours after we left the wax museum to stop thinking that all the unusually still people on the street were made of wax. After that we went shopping. We walked into a Coach store, and I felt incredibly ridiculous. I was trying to hide my $12 Bongo bag from view, because I could see the employees eyeing it with disdain. I contemplated telling my mom that I bought a $70 wallet from there but I never did. It killed me to see the people shopping there though. "Oh, no I don't need any help. Just checking out what's new this season. How long will the plum line be in stock? Oh, I think I'll just take these three $600 bags for today." ... and then there was me. Sooooooo, I went into Gap, where I'm a little more at home. I got a few things there. And oh my god, I have a new favorite store. Sephora. I love it to death! I must have said at least 817 times, much to Kim's annoyance, that if I lived in NYC I would never buy makeup and instead just go in there everyday. They have like 500 kinds of perfumes, thousands of eyeshadows, lipsticks, blushes and everything else, and it's all out for you to sample. I kid you not... I walked out of there with 5 different lipglosses on, 2 eyeshadows, mascara, cream blush, powder, and perfume. I was in heaven! I had a field day in that store. My lips burned for a good two hours afterwards, but it was worth it. Right after shopping, on our way back to the subway, a group of 4 guys were like "ooo, she's gorgeous! And she's not from NY. Oh, let me give you a free tour of the city baby". I told you, no matter where I go outside of Orange or how long I'm away, I get hit on at least once. They knew I wasn't from NY because I had my backpack on still. I wasn't going to waste time getting on the subway and going all the way to my cousin's apartment to drop it off, so I sported it for the day. Speaking of the subway, I am proud to say that I now know my way around the whole NYC subway system pretty well. I feel accomplished. It was funny, there was a Subway (as in the sub shop) in one of the subway stations and I said to Kim before we saw it, "I smell Subway", and she laughed at me until we walked by the Subway store/restaurant/whatever. She thought I meant that I smelled the NYC subway. Isn't that hilarious? Funny humor. Sigh. Her metro card like never worked for her. Each time she had to run it through the thing like twice before it would let her go through. Ha ha. I mean.... that was most unfortunate.

Day two. We went to wait in the lotto line for Wicked tickets twice this day. Wicked is only the coolest, most amazing show ever to be on Broadway, and I've never seen it. I've read the book and I have the soundtrack memorized... I only sing it every second of the day. Well, the show is so popular that they're like sold out until forever. But they save the front row seats for each performance and do a lottery for them. You write down your name and some dude picks 20ish names out of a hat, (well, not a hat, one of those spinny raffle things). If your name is called you get two front row tickets for that day's performance at only $25 each. Sweet deal. Well, we were highly angered because the first time that we did the lottery that day the people who were in front of us in line won and they didn't know anything about the show, and the people behind us when we were standing in the crowd waiting for the names to be called also won. But not us. We deserved it more than anyone! No one is more obsessed with Wicked than me! The Wicked lottery Part II was just as unsuccessful. I was angered by all of the little kids walking out of the show and the teenage boys who could care less. I was like "GIVE ME YOUR TICKET IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE THE SHOW OR ARE TOO YOUNG TO APPRECIATE IT!!!" Anyways... calming down now... we went to take a dance class at Broadway Dance Center. We made a complete circle when we left Wicked's theater and accidentally ended up, wouldn't you know it... back at Wicked's theater. After that fifteen minutes of going in the wrong direction, we started to actually head towards BDC. We took an intermediate lyrical class. It was a little more than a little difficult. I could tell it would be this way though when the teacher was showing us a combination and said, "now do four turns. Or five". You see, I often hear that at Lee Lund too, but there it's a joke. Here it was real. I was clueless throughout the majority of the 90 minute class. Needless to say, we chickened out of our second class, an intermediate advanced theater class. If we couldn't handle intermediate we weren't gonna risk the next level up. We bought matching shirts and called it a day. A kind of depressing day... no Wicked tickets after two tries, and an intense reality check at BDC... so we went home early that night. On the one hand it was like, we're in NYC and should be out exploring and having fun. But on the other hand it was like, we're in NYC and we were shot down all day, our feet and legs are killing so badly that we're limping, and we have headaches from the heat. Our depression, feet, legs and heads won the battle, and slaughtered the fun-seeking explorers.

Third day, last full day in the city. This was basically our shopping day. We went into Chinatown. Well, sort of. We never really got to the main part of Chinatown but we ran into some stores run by Chinese people. It was really sketchy. At every store there would be some little employee outside whispering in a low voice, "Louis Vuitton. Louis Vuitton". And when I say whispering, I mean you could have mistaken it as the wind playing tricks on your ears. Kim wanted a bag. So we go into one of the stores, following the hushed sounds of Chinese people murming expensive designers' names. It's like a little strip mall inside, except it's little stands instead of whole stores. We walk all the way to the back. No Louis Vuitton. We're about to turn around as a guy sitting on an upside down garbage can whispers "Louis Vuitton" and motions for us to come. We follow. Turning his back to the crowd, he pulls out a piece of paper with pictures of different bags. Kim makes her selection by pointing. He says "They're coming now. On their way". We wait for a stressful ten minutes, pretending to look at other things inside. Then, a guy walks in through the back door carrying a black plastic bag. He drops it at the garbage can guy's feet and keeps walking. HOW SKETCHY IS THAT?!?!? It felt like a drug deal. Then our "dealer" guy pulls a tan zipper bag out of the black plastic one and hands it to Kim. She pays her $25 and he says before we leave, "If anyone ask, I sold you a picture". After tackling Chinatown, we went to Macy's. Macy's is 11 floors of $280 cotton tank tops and oldschool wooden escalators. Not my kind of place. I found an Old Navy, another place, like the Gap, where I'm more at home, and got a few things there. That night we went to see Little Shop of Horrors. It was a lot of fun! First of all, we were laughing when we went to get tickets earlier that morning. There was a mother and a daughter from Canada who were in front of us in the ticket line. They had to pay $100 each for their tickets. Kim and I got front row center seats for only $50 each, half price. We saw them at the show that night and they had front row seats way off on the side. Why did we get better seats, for a better price, if they bought their tickets before us? Because they're from Canada or because we're two teenage girls? Anyways, before the show started some usher lady walks by and screams, "There are no cameras or cellphones allowed in the thee-a-tah!" I started laughing hysterically. I am not exaggerating how she pronounced theater at all here. It was (very clearly), thee - a - tah. There was a little boy sitting next to me in the thee-a-tah and his father said to him, "If you get a date with this girl I'll be very impressed" while laughing and winking in my direction. Creepy or cute? A little of both? I agree. I told Kim that my dream, other than being made of wax, has always been to play one of the three black girls in Little Shop of Horrors, and it's so disappointing to me that I'll never be able to. Their parts are so much fun! If only I were black.... During the show, the orchestra played an extra beat at the end of one of the songs. At least I thought it was an extra beat. It sounded a little odd to me, like it didn't belong there at all. Well, I guess my ears didn't decieve me because Joey Fatone mouthed to the girl playing Audrey, "what was that?" and he had to restrain from laughing. For clarification, Joey Fatone was playing the lead in the show. He wasn't like randomly sitting in the audience or something. It was cool sitting in the front row, but there were certain disadvantages. It was hard to see certain things, and I saw too much of other things. I wish I could have seen Audrey being swallowed by the plant, but from where I was sitting she just kind of disappeared. I also wanted to see a picture of the nasty teeth they put up because of the big reaction it got from the audience, but it was blocked from my view. And I wish I didn't have to see all the actors spitting as they sang, or see up the girls skirts throughout half the show. But I'm glad I was in the front row at the end. The plant grew and it's vine things came out, over the edge of the stage and into the front row. I was groped by the plant! It was alot of fun. The plant was out into the entire orchestra section, singing away and swooping down near the audience scaring people. After the show, Kim and I decided to wait by the stage door and get autographs. I swear to you, I am not making this next part up. Some loud, obnoxious guy was talking away to his daughter behind me near the stage door. When one of the three black girls came out he said to her, "You ver fantastique in da show. Vonderful!". This guy had no accent whatsoever in real life, but he randomly chose to talk to this actress in a sort of french/german accent. Why? I have no idea. At least now I know that some people are weirder than me. We got the entire cast's autographs. When Joey Fatone came out someone screamed, "Joey! You're my favorite Backstreet Boy!". It was one of the actors in the show who screamed it... but it was still funny. As we were walking back to the subway we saw a guy on a street corner covered in a suit made of little swirly light-up things. A guy near him sort of whispered to Kim and I, "Check it out. It's a light man." I found this hilarious. Maybe it was just because it was like midnight and I was tired, but it was really funny. A light man... did he just say a light man?

Something really pleased me during my little four day period in the city, and here it is... I'm approachable. As a matter of fact, I'm very approachable. I was approached over six times by random people. I'm not including the light man guy or the one who wanted to give me a tour around NY or the psycho father who wanted to hook me up with his five year old son. I'm talking about times when I was approached, out of a large crowd of people to choose from, and asked a question. They chose me to ask! Me! I thought that I seem to be stuck up, and snobby, or at least clueless half the time, but no! I'm approachable! I was approached by... you ready?... two guys in suits, one of whom reminded me of my old guidance counselor, a lesbian obsessed with Gap, an old guy with a hearing aid who had trouble understanding me, a family of four, a black shirtless guy with a tatoo across his chiseled chest, and a random lady who I can't really categorize. You can't get much more diverse than that! I was asked either for directions, or why on earth there were so many people standing outside near the Wicked theater, or other quirky questions! I was proud. You see, this either means 1. That I am actually an approachable person, 2. I actually look like I know what's going on, or 3. That I appear to be a real New Yorker who knows where things are around the city. All of those are very admirable things in my book. And if you remember from one of my last blogs, yet another one of my dreams is to appear to be a "real New Yorker" when I'm in the city, so if #3 is true then one of my goals is complete! I've perfected the leaning against the subway rail thing while reading technique that I discussed before. Plus, I now have the New Yorker's sixth sense of knowing when to cross the street. They all start to cross seconds before the light changes to the walk signal. They seem to sense that it will change right before it actually does. And then there are the tourists, who wonder how they knew that the walk signal was going to come up. Yeah, I'm proud to say I'm not one of those curious tourists any more. I also know to stand on the right side of the elevator and go along for the ride, or run up the left side, but never the opposite. Oh yeah... I've got it down. My only problem is that I still can't walk in the city. I swear that NYC wanted me to break my ankle. I must have tripped on the sidewalk like 10 times and almost killed myself. I think I was luckier than Kim though. Kim got attacked by a low flying pigeon. That dirty thing actually touched her head! Meaning that the pigeon touched Kim's head, not that Kim touched the pigeon's head. Sorry, Kim. That was cruel, but I couldn't resist. P.S. Kim's not a dirty thing.

On the day we came back from NYC we went to Catie's dance party. It was fun. I thought I would be exhausted from the week, but I must say I had a decent amount of energy. I actually lost my voice because of Catie's party. Too much screaming. My throat is really sore right now and I can hardly talk. At first we just kinda hung around and we watched a movie. Then we ate cake. This was no ordinary cake. You see, this cake had a picture of teen company on it. I saved myself. A little piece of cake with my picture on it is sitting in my kitchen right now, uneaten. I also saved the word "butt" because I wanted to. Don't ask why that word was on the cake. It's a secret. We had fun with the cake though. You're also not allowed to ask how we had fun with it... I'm too nice to tell. =). However, it was after this that the real fun began. We brought out the games. First we played Blurt, as Catie described it, like Trivial Persuit, and as I added, but you don't have to be smart to play. Someone reads a description on a card and the first person to blurt out what they're describing gets to move forward on the board. An example would be "Something sharp used for cutting" and whoever shouted out "knife" first would win the round. Somehow, Kim is insane at the game and we all thought she memorized the cards. It ended up being everyone against Kim and she still won. Here are some of my favorites...the CAPITALS are what was blurted....

A huge animal... JAGUAR!... Did you just say Jenna?
The time from noon to midnight.... MORNING!
A body part that's the inside of the.... BRAIN!.... hand.
A dried plum... PRUNE... (silence, so Trisha blurts out...).... RAISIN!
A closed hand... PALM.... I MEAN FIST!
A member of people in the Arctic region... ALASKA... NEMO.... ESKIMO!!!
An instrument with a circular.... BANJO!... actually, that's right!
A green substance... CHLOROPHYL!... how'd she get that? wasn't it flubber?
CATERPILLAR!
A king's son.... (silence)..... the moon?
AHHHHH!!!! CARLY, MOVE!!!!!!!!!! (.... screaming ....)

okay, so that last one wasn't a blurt, but it was still funny. And when I like punched Kim while screaming that I said the answer before she did. After Blurt we played Truth or Dare Jenga. Warning: This game should have a PG-13 rating. Over 2/3 of these truth or dares were kinda dirty. Maybe it's just me and my not-so-innocent, corrupted mind... but I definitely think some were inappropriate for the thirteen and under category. For example... some dares... swap an article of clothing with someone else in the room, blow in someone's ear, pretend you're riding (what they don't say), blow a raspberry on someone's stomach, remove an article of clothing.... and some truths.... what's your favorite battery operated toy, what's the most fun thing you've done in a car, what's the craziest thing you've done at a party... I mean, granted these all could have innocent responses, but that's not the first thing someone thinks of when they read these questions. It would have been fun to play it with the older half of the people there, but we were a little restrained with everyone. It was still fun though. We got some funny answers and some good laughs. I got really sad saying goodbye to everyone. Very emotional. Oh my god, I'm going away to school in a week. That's scary. It's crept up out of nowhere. Well, I gotta go for now. I've been typing for so long that I'm surprised it's not a week later and I'm up at Wheaton already!

Bonjour. I came back from NYC yesterday. I went down there for my Rockette audition, which I'll discuss later. First, however, I would like to share the details of the other highlights of my trip. I stayed in my cousin's apartment while I was down there, which is in Queens. I got a little freaked out when he showed me a newspaper article a few months back. No, it wasn't some random article that had nothing to do with anything and just had some strange effect on me, causing me to panic. It showed a picture outside of his apartment building and talked about a girl who was murdered there a few years back. Yeah, she lived in the apartment next to him. And yeah, I walked right on the spot where she was raped and killed. This actually caused me to have a nightmare the night I stayed over. I dreamt that some guy broke in and threw me out the window, bringing me crashing to my death... even though there was no window in my room, and my cousin's apartment is barely one story up. Anyways, after this horrific type of first impression I have of his apartment, you can see how surprised I was when I found his neighborhood to be really cute. All of the houses in the area are different, so it's fun to walk around and look at them. It's easy to get lost though, and not just because I'm less than decent with directions. There's an 82nd Street, 82nd Avenue, 82nd Road, and about every other 82nd with a street-like surname you can imagine. So you can't just remember that something is on 78th or whatever... you have to remember if it's a street, road, drive, boulevard, circle, place, avenue, lane, hill... just a little confusing. The neighborhood is really suburban, but it's like under a 5 minute walk to the subway to get into Manhattan. Not too bad....

Speaking of the subway, I have to tell you my funny little story. I enjoy people-watching, while the "true New Yorkers" avoid making eye contact and such. Anyways, some guy walks onto the subway and starts screaming something in a preacher-like voice. I can't hear what he's saying because he's on the other side of the train cart thing and the subway is rather loud. But I'm watching him. He's talking away in a loud voice, and no one is paying attention to him as he's up in their faces. He's going all out with hand gestures and extreme facial expressions. He's in all black and I'm thinking, "this guy is like preaching or something. What is he doing?" So here I am, the only one on the subway paying any sort of attention to this guy because I'm intrigued. I'm convinced by his mannerisms that he's preaching to us to turn to the Lord or something. Then he starts walking in my direction. It's at this point that I can hear him. He was begging for money. Not quite praising the Lord as I thought... After walking the length of our train, he walked into the next cart and kept right on preaching. I felt kinda dumb.

I was sitting on the subway for this particular ride, (I'll discuss the standing trips later). Some French lady was sitting next to me with her husband. At least, I think she was talking French. You would think that after 6+ years of taking French I could at least recognize the language when I hear it, nevermind understand some of it. Anyways, this lady had really bad B.O. ...I'm talking really bad. I tried to think of something else, but it was pretty unbearable. Then, I began to think that it was some exotic French perfume that just smelled bad to me. I knew it wasn't likely, but I tried to convince myself. That mental thing is supposed to work. Well, it didn't for me. She still smelled bad.

Some things I noticed during my cherished subway time... True New Yorkers. You can pick em out of a crowd. Being the perceptive person that I am, I noticed what they do on the subway. Their little quirky habits and such. Basically, the more you are dependent on the hand rail things, the less New Yorkerly you are likely to be. I managed to perfect the "wrap your arm around the pole instead of gripping it as if your life depended on it" technique. But in order to fully convince others, I still have to perfect the "reading a newspaper while wrapping your arm around the subway rail" method. If I get really good, I may be able to just lean up against the door, and not hold onto anything except my newspaper and coffee (because my bag will be between my feet... another "New York" habit I noticed). Once I get these down and I start to recognize beggars as such (instead of as preachers) from the moment they walk on the subway, then maybe I will at least appear as a "true New Yorker".

I bet you're thinking that my trip consisted only of subway rides... the real reason why I went down to NY. Well, for you're information, I actually saw a show while I was there. After standing in the lotto line for Wicked tickets, and not winning, I decided to see Beauty and the Beast. I enjoyed it. It was funny and cute. I especially liked the special effects, costumes, scenery and such. My one complaint is with Christy Carlson Romano as Belle. She was bad. I mean really awful. Acting wise she was fine, but she was singing out of key, her voice was cracking, she'd be singing all low and powerful and then all of a sudden switch into this annoying airy, really light, upper voice which sounded like a completely different voice altogether... neither of which were in any way good. A little disappointing. That's one of my biggest pet peeves. And it's probably just because I'm such a theater fanatic. But I hate when they put big name people into lead roles on Broadway who aren't known as theater performers. She's only one case. Then there's Joey from N Sync in Little Shop, Paige Davis in Chicago, Puff Daddy (P. Diddy.... whatever) in some play, and supposedly Mandy Moore will be in Wicked soon, to name only a few. It really bothers me. They don't deserve those parts. Errr... I'm getting angered so I'm going to switch topics.

How's about me talking about the audition. (This is the real reason for my going into the city... in case you couldn't figure that out). So, what made me want to audition in the first place you ask? Well... last summer I was supposed to go audition for the Rockettes with Shondra, the choreographer for the musicals that I normally do in the summer. She said I should go with her so I thought, why not? Well, it just so happens you have to be 18 to audition. I was a year too young. Lately, I've kind of been doubting whether or not I should have tried to go into some kind of performing career, just cause I love it so much. So, I decided to audition for the Rockettes and just take it as a kind of sign. On the off chance that I made it, I'd consider switching my major and transferring to some more performing type of college. And if not, I'd continue as planned. I'm big into these "I'll take this as a sign" kind of things. Anyways, the audition was for a touring group as a Rockette, and if I got the job, I'd have to take off my first semester at school. Enough background junky info, let's get to the actual tryouts.

I walk into Radio City, my hair all up and slicked back, my makeup all done up, my favorite leotard on with my shiny tan tights (and no shorts which felt soooooo awkward), ready to go. I wasn't nervous. I wasn't in any way expecting to get it, and I wasn't even sure if I really wanted to. Anyways, I go into the sign-in room. There are about 200 other dancers there. I kid you not, they all knew each other!!! They're all hugging each other and chatting away in their "we're too cool for you newcomer" way. I'm taking in everything I can while looking around the room. I sneak a peek at a few of their resumes... most had like 20 other professional shows listed from across the country and they all had the professional headshots and resumes that cost like $5OO to get done, making me feel like the most insignificant piece of dirt to walk into the audition. Sure, I had my "headshot", aka school photo that I blew up myself at kinkos, and my resume printed off of my own personal computer that has nothing more than my classes at Lee Lund and a few community theater shows. But how could that compare? I also looked at their luggage. That's right... they didn't have dance bags or whatever... they had luggage. These girls flew in from Arizona, Florida, Michigan... and everywhere else, just for this audition. I'm like, yeah... I came all the way from Connecticut, so there! The casting directors knew like half of the girls in the room by name. They're like "Oh, Lindsey- I'm so glad you came to audition!....Sarah, great to see you here!.... Erin, goooooood luckkkkk!!!". And then there's me. All alone. I didn't know any girls auditioning, or have any personal relationship with the casting dudes. What were my chances?

Believe it or not though, although a little intimidated, I was still not nervous. Once I actually went in to audition I was fine. Even a little confident. Maybe having a little fun too! They taught us a "jazz" combination that was 5 eights long. That's pretty short for peoples unaware of the dance jargon. I say "jazz" because a non-dancer could have walked into the audition and done it pretty decently. It wasn't really dancing, just more like precise, sharp hand and arm movements with a few right steps here and there and maybe some left ones too. Really basic. At this point I'm relieved that I at least know I won't make a fool of myself, because it's a combination I'm fully capable of. After they taught it to us, we did it in three large groups... like 6 times each group, just to get it in our bodies and make sure we knew it. Then they made us do it three people at a time. I was in one of the last groups. I didn't mess up! I kept my smile going! I did fine. There were people who were better than me, but certainly people who were worse and forgot the steps or refused to smile or just down right didn't look good. I felt confident. Then they call the names. "These people can stay, the rest of you can go home". I wait.... and wait..... no Trisha Carr. I didn't even make it past the first cut. Oh well, whatcha gonna do? I wasn't what they were lookin for. I was actually surprised that they didn't make their initial cut based on looks alone. I mean, you look at the Rockettes, and they're ALL tall, thin, pretty... you know. Not trying to be mean or anything, but in any performing type of thing, dance especially, these things DO count... it's a known fact. The majority of the girls at the audition fit this criteria, but there were a couple of women there who were slightly larger, on the less attractive side, or were like 40-something years old. I know I sound harsh... but I know that that is how the dance business can go. Oh man, I'm sounding mean. I need to shut up now.

On a different note, I felt like I was in A Chorus Line. All the girls auditioning with their different outfits that try to make them stand out, the range of different attitudes, the "posing" while waiting on the side for their turn to audition (in this case, the favorite seemed to be a hands-on-your-hips-with-one-foot-propped-up,-chest-out-and-the-cheesiest-smile-you-can-force pose), plus the not-so-subtle flashy smiles and extra cheery thank you's to the casting guys. Right... so, naturally I began to take upon my Chorus Line character from this past year at Lee Lund. I couldn't help it. I felt like I was acting. I became my character that I've been playing all year long. It was great fun. I enjoyed myself. I'm a little annoyed that I didn't even make it past the first cut when I danced well. Not to sound cocky or anything. I didn't even get to tap or do my kickline... and I've been doing beyond splits every day in preparation... go figure. I think I got cut right away due to a combination of things. One, a lot of these girls were "in" with the Rockette casting people and basically didn't even have to be at the audition in order to make it past the first cut. Two, I was like the only one there without a professional resume and I've had virtually no experience and I'm really young. And three, cause I lied about my weight. They have no way of knowing that... but I have to convince myself that I was cut for some reason other than my dancing. Not for the sake of my pride, for the sake of my sanity. If that makes sense. Which it probably doesn't considering it doesn't even make sense to me. Well, I'm going to go to every audition that the Rockettes have until I graduate college. My goal won't necessarily be to make it, but just to get past that first cut. Then I'll be happy. I'll be at those auditions so much that those casting people will know ME by name too! So there!

On a completely different, random note.... read this. Okay, so this link has been in my profile for a few days or a week or something, but it's taking up too much space, so I'm putting it here. Just click it! You know you're curious... http://connect.tickle.com/test.html?id=fg_jRUvlxXjEjol8&uid=FNrdipPi4yMhW7EK

And after I tell you to read the next blog too because I just posted it yesterday, and unless you're a freak like Kim who checks my blog every 20 minutes or so to see if I've posted anything new, you wouldn't know that I just posted yesterday, then I'll be outta here. And I guess I just covered that mission so... keep readin! (p.s. Kim's not really a freak)

Okay. You deserve an explanation here. I wrote this on Friday night, but my computer is messed up and wouldn't post it. So... just pretend you're reading this as if it's Friday because I don't feel like switching all the "today"s to "Friday night"s and so forth. Make believe...

So, what's new and interesting in the life of Trisha? Very little is ever new, or for that matter, interesting in the life of Trisha, I just pretend it is and then write about it. A few days ago I went over Kim's house to help her paint her room. We thought it would be funny if I wore my stomp costume to paint. Kim didn't think I would go through with it. But, hey.... I'm Trisha, of course I would. So I wore my stomp costume to her house. For the non Lee Lunders and people who weren't at the concert, my stomp costume looks like a mix between an orange janitor's suit and a convict's outfit. It's just like the one Gwen Stefani wears in her most recent video, as Kim so aptly pointed out when it came on TV that day. Anyways... I wore the costume and Kim was supposed to provide the painter hats but she claims Home Depot didn't have any. I admitted to her stepmother that I was a complete painting novice, but after tackling Kim's room I'd consider myself a pro. Kim and I actually talked about starting our own business. You know you'd want to hire us! So what if I walked into the wall a couple of times. True story... but please don't ask. Of course, Kim and I both ended up with paint on ourselves- In a kind of "indian war paint/black gunk that keeps the sun out of football players' eyes" sorta way. Kim had yellow paint all over her hands and I called her Mr. Butter. The actual name of the paint color was Lazy Daisy, but I thought Mr. Butter or A Fan of a Banana would be a more fun name. Plus, we both "decorated" my stomp costume, which I was too lazy to even take the taps off the back of. It was fun. Kim's sister's friend must have thought I was kind of weird though... and the pizza guy, even though I was too afraid to open the door when he came. I mean, I looked like an escaped convict with some random yellow shapes painted on her. For once, Kim and I opted to order food instead of baking our own. I think it was better that way. Although, not quite as satisfying.

After the room was done and we had a nice little chat, we walked to Shop Rite to get really random stuff... tortilla chips, a chocolate bar, and a tabloid magazine. On the way, we ran into the $5 clearance rack outside of Bob's. We bought matching outfits, because we're just that cool. We wore them to dance the other day. Some people were skeptical and some just outright didn't believe us (but didn't admit to it), but others actually thought it was a total coincidence. Like... not only was it not planned, but we both just happened to buy the same outfit without knowing it and wear it on the same day. I was amused.

I just got back from the fireman's carnival. I haven't been to that thing since my parent's were together. I'm talking like 3rd grade or something. But, believe it or not, I actually felt like going out tonight. I called a group of people and Kim, Amy, and Allison ended up coming. It was actually really funny... I was trying to get more people to go with so I told Kim to call the 41st person whose number is saved in her phone and invite them. Okay, so I don't know if it was actually the 41st person, but I picked some random number in that general area. The person ended up being Erin Degnan. We never got around to calling her, but it was really funny because we ran into her there. Talk about coincidence. Or maybe it's just what is bound to happen in a suburban area with only so many people and only so many events going on. Before we left for the carnival, we downloaded a million old school theme songs... most from Nickolodeon. We listened to Hey Dude, Clarissa Explains it All, Blossom, and about 40 others. I was determined to find the song Stick Stickly sang... but it was find-less. You know... "write to me! Stick Stickly! P.O Box 163! New York City, New York state! 101...08!" I loved that popsicle stick.

Right... well anyways... we rode like 6 rides or something. It was fun scaring Allison that the ferris wheel was going to fall apart, watching Kim on the pirate ship thing, and convincing Amy to go on the Twister whatchamacallit. Kim like fell or something when she got off of the sizzler. For a minute I thought she got really dizzy when she was getting off and lost her balance. Then I thought her glasses flew off during the ride and she was searching for them on the ground. But she just fell... and was lying entirely on the ground when I saw her there. I lost my tickets for the rides. Well, not really. I just thought I did. I got off of the Twister and I say to Allison, "oh no! my tickets are gone!" So we go back up and look all in the seats of the ride for them, and then the guy tells us that we can go look on the grass and he'll wait for us to finish before he starts the ride up again so we don't get smacked by it. Then, I pull Allison aside and whispered that I was wrong. They were in my other pocket. We ran away before the guy in charge of the ride knew what happened.

Speaking of getting smacked by rides... we looked on the back of the tickets they gave us. It said something like, "with the purchase of this ticket, you are agreeing that we are not responsible for any accidents or injuries that may occur while on or observing a ride." The part that got us was the observing thing. Are the rides that dangerous that someone watching could get hurt? After reading that, I was a little paranoid that one of the carts from the ferris wheel would come crashing down on my head when I was walking or something. Basically, this little printed death notice on the back of the tickets told us that they don't care what happens to you. The guys working there were a little nuts. One guy was staring straight up at the sky the entire time like there was actually something to see besides blackness. I mean, there weren't even stars and the moon wasn't out. Although, there was a rather high flying balloon that at times looked like the moon, but that's besides the point. Then, another guy was really mean to me and Allison... on the pirate ship ride there were like 2 spots left (right in the middle) and we asked if we could wait for the next ride so we could sit in the back. He could have just politely said no... or even better, I'm sorry...but no. Instead he told us, in a rude, aggravated tone, "listen girls, either you get on now or you go to the back of the line. I have a lot of people here who want to ride... they all aren't complaining." ... I didn't like that man. I didn't like that man at all.

I got fried oreos. Woohoo! I was excited. I was waiting in line for fried dough, after circling the carnival twice looking for a fried oreo stand, when I finally saw it out of the corner of my eye. Ask Amy, Kim, or Allison... I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw it. It was the sole purpose of me going the carnival. Almost anyways. And then, after all the rides and jazz, I got a hot, hand dipped caramel apple. It was soooo good and I don't even like caramel. Honest. But something in me said "Trisha... you want a caramel apple". And when something inside me tells me something, well.... I have to listen. Amy parked a mile away so it took awhile to walk back to the car which was all the way down in my old kindergarten's parking lot. Oh well, walking's good for ya... especially after fried oreos and a caramel apple. Speaking of walking, which is exercise, which is like dance because it's also exercise... I'm going to NYC Sunday night to audition for the CAA Rockettes!!!! Wish me much luck! Not that I'm expecting to get in or even really want to, considering I'd have to take my first semester off of school... but regardless of all that, wish me luck. I have my cheesy headshot, done by the fine professionals at kinko's, my pitiful resume, sort of tan tap shoes... with black spots and stuff stuck on them, and my beyond splits ready to go! Speaking of going, I have to. Go that is. I have caramel bits stuck in my hair.

Well, well, well. How ya doin? Don't really answer that... I don't have the time. The main topic of this lil blog is going to be how spending time with Kim makes me realize what an idiot I am. But, before we get there... I have to let you in on my roomate situation. Way back when, when I first dreamt of going to college at the age of two, I began dreaming of the ideal roomate. First of all, notice that I said roomate, not roomateS. Ever since I was a toddler I knew I wanted only one person to share my dorm with. If you only have one roomate you are basically forced to become all buddy-buddy with them... well, or hate them. But having more than one roomate would mean that this isn't a guarantee. It could be the others who become really close and you're the ugly duckling who gets left out. Okay, wrong fairy tale or nursery rhyme or whatever that story is...maybe it would be more like Cinderella and the stepsisters... except the other "stepsisters" are not necessarily evil. Anyways, because I'm just a little on the shy side, ahem, I could see that very easily happening with me. Besides only wanting one roomate, I kind of wanted one from far away. Like Arizona or some other messed up state that seems half way across the world. I don't know why I've wanted that. I'm just so used to New Englanders. Someone more foreign would be fun. If you can consider Arizona foreign.

So, if you can't guess what my roomate situation actually is.... well, then..... you're not very perceptive ;) I have three roomates. Count 'em...1...2...3! There aren't even any quads in the dorm we were assigned to. That means we're going to be in a triple sized room, being forced to live like sardines... college female sardines! On the bright side, they all seemed nice over the phone. Ashley is from Massachusetts, Caitrin (yes, Caitrin, not Caitlin- I like her name) is from Rhode Island, and Lisa is from Maine. So much for diversity. I'm just kidding. They all seem really cool, no psychos (except me), and it may be fun having four roomates. I hope we all become really close. My worst fear is it'll get cliquey or something. The bad thing though is even if we all do become good friends, we will be kicked out of our quad eventually. Once the juniors go abroad they said they're switching us to different rooms. Freshman in triples have the option of staying in their room, but the quad-girls definitely have to split up. That may not be good. Well, we'll see what happens come August 28th.

Now, onto how Kim makes me realize my insanity. I know I'm nuts, with little common sense... but it is never more evident than when I'm hanging out with Kim. She came over yesterday and we decided to go to Olive Garden. We had to make a brief trip to two banks beforehand though. Why two you ask? Be patient; I'll explain. The lady in front of us at the first ATM took out all of the money, leaving Kim nothing and forcing us to go to another bank where she had to pay the extra buck seventy-five. After waiting 45 minutes for a table, talking about Tanya Tomato and Bene Breadstick, and eating our dinner, we got 4 chocolate mint things from our waiter. I got all excited that we got two each. Kim, however, reminded me that she didn't like chocolate so I got to have all 4 to myself! I thought to myself, 'oh man-this is crazy! I get all four!'. On the wrappers it said "grazie" in fancy print. Not knowing italian and not being able to read fancy print very well, I thought it said "crazie"...like crazy, just spelled funny. So, I started to laugh. Kim insisted that I told her what I was laughing about- you see, she enjoys laughing at my stupid thoughts. I told her that I thought it said "crazie" on the wrapper then I realized it said "grazie". (It is imperative to know that I pronounced it as "gray-zee", thinking it was some brand name or something). Kim kind of stares at me and says, "yeah, Trisha. Or maybe it says 'grazie'. You know, like italian for thank you?". I could not stop laughing at my stupidity. I bet you can't either. Go on and admit it. I can take it. I'm capable of laughing at myself once every ten years or so.

This whole grazie thing reminded Kim of a story which I don't really want to share. I'll just get to the best part of it. Just read this next word and think about whatever immediately comes to mind... you ready?.....POLISH. Okay. Did you think of the nationality or of the beauty product? Did you ever realize that both words are spelled the same way? I never did. I mean- I knew it, but I never made the connection. It blows my mind.

So, that whole chocolate italian thing was stupid comment #1. There's more. She came back to my house and we watched the movie Camp. It's about this musical theatre camp and it was kind of cool. But, that's besides the point. I'm talking about my Jessica Simpsoness here. One of the guys in the movie had OCD and in his mind he would count up the number of letters in every word people said. He gave some examples during the movie when he was explaining his problem to his friend. Of course, I had to try to figure out if the numbers he was saying were right. Well, I kind of misunderstood his problem. I gave each letter a number, like A=1, B=2, C=3 etc. and started adding all the numbers together that were associated with what he was saying. After like 10 minutes of math, I finally realized that the number I was getting wasn't what he said in the movie and that I made a mistake. It wasn't A=1, B=2... I don't even know where I got that from. Like I said before, it was just that he would count up the number of letters in every word people said. So like, "I am stupid" would be 1, 2, 6. "No one is dumber" would be 2, 3, 2, 6. You get it right? Well, that wasn't even my stupid mistake #2. That was just necessary to explain my next dumb comment. I asked Kim what the number would be for two-hundreth. She said, "like two, zero, zero, t, h?" And I said, "You mean, tooth?". I know you probably can't even figure out where on earth I got that from. Neither did Kim and she was laughing at me so hard! Let me try to explain my thinking... even though I admit it's messed up. When she said "Two" I pictured the word "too" in my head instead of the number 2. Then, when she said "zero, zero" I just pictured two O's as in the letters, probably just because I was already thinking in letters from the word "too". And then she said "t, h". So I thought of tooth. Kim informed me that even with my thinking it didn't make sense because then it would be tooooth... which she said with a long, drawn out "ooo" sound, making me feel even more like an idiot. I realize you're probably dumber now after reading that whole explanation. But it's a true story. And, if it eases your mind any more, two-hundreth would be 11 if done correctly. In case you cared.

I wish my lack of common sense ended there. But it didn't and it doesn't. I was having a discussion about horoscopes with Kim and Brian. I'm a cancer and Brian's a leo. I told him that he was a lion and I was a tiger. Take a minute to think about it. I know you can figure it out. He said to me, "you're not a tiger. You're a crab". I instantly realized my mistake. I was thinking of the chinese horoscope... 1986, year of the tiger. I corrected myself and said that I'm a crab because I have a hard exterior and soft, mushy insides... or something like that. Kim told me she doesn't think I have a hard exterior. I insisted that crabs do have hard exteriors. She gave me that 'what are you an idiot?' stare again and said, "I'm not arguing that crabs don't have hard exteriors. I'm saying you don't." As if my previous comments weren't stupid enough, I had to say that there is such a thing as soft-shelled crabs. ....more stares from Kim.... "that's just how they cook them Trisha. They still have hard shells when their alive". I really do know all this stuff. The words just came out of my mouth the wrong way, I swear. I'm a tiger based on the chinese horoscope, but because of my July 14th birthday I'm a cancer, which is a crab, all of which have hard shells. See! Proved my point. Whew... glad I didn't make another mistake there!

Okay, so that last one really wasn't a common sense thing... because I really did know my stuff. It was more of a "don't think before I speak" thing.... which is basically an oxymoron when it comes to me- I only repeat everything I'm about to say like 12 times in my head before I actually say it. Anyways, this last one is an example of a pure lack of common sense. And wouldn't you know it? My lack of common sense for once proved to be helpful and efficient! Due to a little bit of luck. We made a pineapple upside down cake. You see, Kim and I like to make things that end in "cake". So far we've done pancakes, angel food cakes, and pineapple upside down cakes. We've decided that crab cakes are next... even though neither of us like crabs. I'm getting off topic again. I made two errors while baking this time. First, when melting the butter and brown sugar to a syrup consistency on the stove, I decided to use a plastic spoon. I should have opted for the wooden. The spoon melted. Not only did it ruin the spoon, but it got bits of plastic in the batter stuff. Oops. Just so you're aware, that's not the example of helpful, efficient common sense. That one's coming up right now. I may be a terrible cook, but I can separate egg yolks from whites pretty darn well. I separated the three eggs, putting the yolks in a bowl and the eggwhites in a plastic cup because they weren't needed until later. Well, when it came time to use the eggwhites, I realized that we had to mix them before adding them into the rest of the batter.  I didn't really feel like getting out a whole other bowl, so I used the electric mixer in the plastic cup. Kim was certain that the cup would crack and I would get eggwhites all over me, but no! It worked! Woo-hoo for lack of common sense!

The last little thing I'm going to put in here is pure randomness. It too proves my insanity, but in a different way. Amy's away message said "Shower then work. Yippee!". So, being the sarcastic person that I am, I decided to IM her saying something like, "shower and work doesn't sound like my idea of a good time, but hey...whatever floats your boat". However, it all seemed too trite to me. I didn't like 'float your boat' or other common alternatives like 'tickles your pickle'... so I decided to make up my own. I asked Kim for assistance. Once we got started and discovered rhymezone.com there was no stopping us. Here are some of our favorites... miraculously, if you use your imagination-well, I'm not going there...

whatever swells your magic spell
whatever tans your broth of a man
whatever zips your chips
whatever buries your cherries
whatever shakes your snake
whatever shook your gobbledygook
whatever's fishin your economic and social council commission
whatever embraces your interplanetary spaces
whatever resumes your microphone booms
whatever grapples your pineapples
whatever moans your eau de cologne
whatever unclamps your incandescent lamp
whatever wipes your pipes
whatever clots your granny knots
whatever pats your naked mole rat's cowboy hat
whatever plugs your slugs
whatever shaves your tidal wave's concaves
whatever squats in your philadelphia pepper pots
whatever's rumpling your dumpling
whatever chills your phone bills
whatever toots your vertical flute
whatever will grease your royal canadian mounted police
whatever shocks your metamorphic rocks
whatever shames your baptismal name
whatever misconstrues your belgian beef stews
whatever harrasses your relative molecular masses
whatever bestows your toes on van gogh's sloppy joes and throws crows at a golf pro's strip show with an electric glow from head to toe!!!!!!!

Between these 27 expressions and LLOL, Kim and I are going to start some major trends. Come on.... you know you wanna say "whatever shames your baptismal name". Admit it!

I'm giving my new roomates my screename. If they read this, they're going to think I'm even crazier than I really am. I swear, I'm pretty normal. It's Kim's fault. To most people, I appear the exact opposite of how I seem based on this blog. Maybe it's some sort of identity crisis. Disregard that. Anways...in reality, I'm just a little shy, a little fun if you get to know me, a little sensitive, maybe a little scatter-brained on the inside...but mostly normal. Ask anyone who doesn't really know me too well. They'll assure you of that :) !

Yesterday was my birthday. Well, actually it's after midnight which means the little heading thing above this entry is going to say I wrote this on the 16th, so erase that. Two days ago was my birthday. Woo-hoo! 18! Because we all know that I care about being "an adult" just that much. After all, 18 is the magical age. The transformation from infancy to maturity happens overnight, of course, on that most extraordinary of all birthdays. Look at me now- free to go into adult book stores, buy lotto tickets, vote, and most importantly- sign my own name on important stuff, instead of my parents... and we all know I'll take advantage of each of my new opportunities, available to me ever since my inauguration into adulthood… please, don’t forget to note the sarcasm there. On the other, more negative side, I'm now forced to grow up and face the world- do my own laundry, among other things, with the complete responsibility and wisdom that is characteristic of all adults. I mean, two days ago I was just a kid. But now I'm an adult. Amazing how that works, huh?
 
So...I don't know why exactly, but every year I cry on my birthday. Not happy cry... sad cry. I think it’s partially because- well- how to word this…Okay, I’ll give this way a shot. Bear with me here. Everybody feels like their birthday should be different. More special. But for me anyways, it feels just like any other day… if not, more sad than normal… so I cry. It could also be because as I get older I’m moving farther away from childhood. Go figure. That makes sense. LLOL (that’s literal laugh out loud). But you know what I mean… no more innocence, no more carefree lack of responsibility, no more playing stupid games with little friends, no more crying when your parents tell you to finish your vegetables… it’s a depressing thought. Eh, who knows why I cry every year. I could come up with a million possible reasons why, and I’m probably wrong on each and every one of them.
 
 This birthday wasn’t all bad… I did cry… but it wasn’t all bad. I slept in late… until like 2:00. I was lazy and watched TV for a bit. Then I got my lunch of shrimp cocktail… the only seafood I really like and wouldn’t you know it, I love the stuff… and my favorite cake ever- a chocolate raspberry thing from Julia’s bakery. So sinfully delicious. Then, I went shopping for a bit. Not clothes shopping…but college shopping. Which for some reason gets me very excited. You should have seen me showing off my new bedding to Brian. I love it to the extreme! No one should get that excited over new college stuff. Anyways... then I went out to Friendly's with Brian, Amy, Kim, Meghan, and Chris. It was fun. I got stared at by some random guy outside who thought my dancing to the random music they play in Friendly's was funny or something. Then broccoli was thrown in my lap "by accident", after I got a real fairy from Kim, a huge card from Amy as payback for like 7 years ago, and...most importantly, my gray shirt back that Amy borrowed around this time last year. Kim suddenly wasn't feeling well, and her getting up to go to the bathroom somehow made the waiter people come sing Happy Birthday to me. A miracle, isn't it?! Yes, all this happened against my wishes and despite Meghan's efforts to be quiet about it. She would only whisper happy birthday to me when she came in because she knew I didn't want to be sung to. You see... I had this incident a few years back that has scarred me for life. Well, life up until now at least. I went out to dinner on my birthday and my mom had the waiter people sing to me and I started to cry because I was so embarrassed. Ever since, I have refused to go out on my birthday for that very reason. Although the waiter's singing to me was Kim's fault, or rather, Kim's sickness' fault, she was also the one who made it bearable for me. She started like dancing in her seat throughout the song, to keep me laughing. I'll admit- it was funny. I shouldn't have been surprised by that though. Kim will dance at any chance she can get... even if it's to Happy Birthday in the middle of a restaurant.
 
So, we stood out in the parking lot for a bit. We decided to go back to my house to watch Who's Line Is It Anyway which was starting in ten minutes. I rush off to my house to get home in time. Apparently, I was the only one. No one else showed up. Shows how much they really care about me and my birthday! The least they could have done was make up a decent excuse. But Kim insists they were almost arrested and kicked out of the country. Oh, no wait. That was the excuse I used for not talking to her all last week. Oops. My mistake..

I started work this week. My first real job and it's not even a real job. Most teenagers will work at a store or a restaurant as their first job... with regular part time hours and minimum wage. Me however, well... I'll be lucky if I work more than 8 days this summer. Plus, a "day" of work is really only 3 hours. I'm a substitute aide at an elementary school in Darien. And let me tell you... it is the best summer job that ever exsisted. I work in the summer school with special ed preschool kids. Some of them are a handful because they're really low functioning. But most of them are a lot of fun and absolutely adorable. The best part though is I have like zero hours compared to all my friends who work, I don't need to do nearly as much as them, and I make way more money. I get $27 an hour! No joke! And this is basically what I have to do... sit near the kids while the teacher works with them- just to make sure they pay attention and don't like run away or something, and then play with them during their free time. Tell me that isn't incredible! The pay is great, the kids are fun, the hours are amazing...not to mention they force me to get out of bed before noon, or 6:00 p.m. for that matter. Yeah, yeah, it's true- One day that I wasn't working this week I overslept a little. I normally sleep in really late but 6 o'clock is my new record. So, I like to sleep through the day and stay up until 5 in the morning... nothing's wrong with that. Anyways, don't tell anyone... but word on the street is that as a substitute I make even more money than the regular aide's. Ha ha ha... I make more money than you do...na na na na nah nah!!!

Also, this week I went back to dance. I went to ballet on Tuesday. It was really weird being there. The entire week before, I just thought about how much I wanted to be back at dance, take class, and see everyone again. While I enjoyed it once the day arrived, I felt out of place. I was actually nervous walking into the room- like my heart was pounding. Don't ask me why... I just felt like, 'Okay. I graduated. I shouldn't be here. They're looking at everyone else for auditions in the fall. They're done with me here. What am I doing?'. It probably didn't help that my mom (and practically Linda too) told me that the only seniors who would be going back for classes over the summer are the ones continuing in dance. I don't know. It was just awkward for me. I didn't know where to stand in line and I didn't even feel comfortable looking Debi in the eye. Of course, she approached me to say something to me... just like she used to. But, it still wasn't right. Maybe I'm just sad that "my time" at Lee Lund is over. Does that sound like the most logical reasoning to you? Or, do you think I'm just neurotic?

So, I went to NYC again yesterday. Let me just tell you... I love that good old place! I love the whole rushed feeling of the city, all the different types of people, the smoggy air and the never ending noise! Everytime I go down there it makes me wish I were going to college in the city, and majoring in performing arts.... even though when I went to visit NYU I hated that there was no campus. So, I'm difficult to please. But really, I love the feeling I get when I'm down there. For some reason, it also makes me feel very independent and grown-up. Explain that one for me...

The reason I went to NYC, as if I need a reason, was to see my cousin Stephen in an off-broadway show. It was funny when we walked into the theater. There was this little like, pre-show waiting room thing with couches, icicle lights and stuff. We were the only one's there except for this little, old lady sitting in one of the chairs. Before I was able to adjust to the ambiance of the room, the composer/ lyricist/ librettist/ co-producer/ pianist/ lawyer/ gay rights activist walked in and offered us wine. He then proceeded to hand out programs and warned us that he was running short on them and therefore, he wanted us to hand them back after the show so he could recycle them for tomorrow's performance. Meanwhile, the little, old lady is happily sipping her two cups of wine in her chair. The composer/ lyricist/ librettist/ co-producer/ pianist/ lawyer/ gay rights activist began explaining the concept of the show. All I really got from his talk was that it's suppossed to be confusing and that we have to allow ourselves to be confused in order to appreciate the performance. Umm....okay. I turn around and the little, old lady is gone. Guess she just stopped in for some free wine.

Before the show started, someone else walked in. He proudly told us he plays the best friend of the older brother on Malcolm in the Middle, some guy on a ranch. He seemed disappointed when we said we didn't watch the show. But if you watch the show and know this guy...well, then... I met him! So there. Six more people showed up and then the show began.

I don't exactly know how to describe the show to you. The composer/ lyricist/ librettist/ co-producer/ pianist/ lawyer/ gay rights activist was right. It was the most confusing thing I ever saw in my life. This is basically what I got from it... prepare yourself. Six tie-dyed monks/ghosts with masks walk onstage doing some type of interpretive dance and then a priest walks through them sweeping the floor. That's scene one. There's also a black guy with a lisp who is portrayed like God, but he's against organized religion. They use the words "dreams", "fear", "reality", "religion", "love", "truth" and "vision" like ten thousand times each throughout the show, and I'm still not sure why. There's a scene where they're dancing under a fuchsia light...which consisted of marching in place and a sort of swaying move that reminded me of Britney Spears' "Crazy" video, the part in the chair. We later learn that that sweeping priest is gay but also the father of the character my cousin plays. And the next thing I know, my cousin's trying to kill himself, but doesn't. But a girl who isn't suicidal ends up dying at the end. I'm sorry. I know I'm confusing. But trust me, if you saw this show, you wouldn't be any less confused. It's one of those things that I can picture really eclectic and cultured people going to see and have deep conversations about for hours afterwards. But for everyone else it's just an hour and a half of incomprehension with a few good songs mixed in. Stephen, if you're reading this... I love you.

Wow...this was only the saddest, most exhausting week of my life. For you clueless people out there, this past week I had all of my onstage dance rehearsals and then the recitals and concerts. Let me tell you what this basically entails. Ahem (sorry, just clearing my throat), this means sleeping on average about 4.5 hours a night, eating zero regular meals but tons of random snacks stolen from other companies dressing rooms while they're onstage, driving back and forth between Amity and Jonathan Law six hundred times, dancing anywhere from 3 to 14 hours a day... and dealing with little kids during the remaining hours each day. Despite all these cruel conditions, it's my favorite time of the year. Which is why it was so depressing for me. (I know I'm making perfect sense here, right?) I'm sure all the Lee Lunders know what I'm talking about. For the rest of you, just deal with the confusion.

Mixed into this crazy week of rehearsals was graduation. Which honestly, I could care less about. It was actually kind of funny. At graduation, a decent amount of people came up to me and said something like, "are you so excited?!" or "can you believe we're graduating?". My response never varied. It was simply, "oh, I could care less... I want this over and done with so I can go back to my dance rehearsal". This got a few shocked looks, many smiles that seemed to say 'I don't know how to respond to that so I'm just going to smile and maybe she won't interpret it the wrong way', and even a few "I love you, Trisha!"s. Those pointless graduation rehearsals kept getting in the way of my precious time onstage at Law! But whatever, I'm a graduate. Woo-hoo class of 2004. yawn.

So, this whole week I couldn't control my tears. In the shower, crying... driving in my car, crying... trying to sleep at night, crying. I felt so bad before the show on Sunday. Junior Company went to give me their gift and I literally took it and ran. Otherwise, I would have been crying out of control! I just love them all too much! I felt really bad about it afterwards. And by the time my final bow came that night, I was hysterical. I just don't know what I'm going to do without the studio next year! It's the only place I'm happy. The only pieces I didn't have to hold back crying during were Flashdance (need I say why?...no, =) I won't go there), Tina's and Katharine's. For everything else... it was hard to control myself. Especially during Chorus Line- oh boy, oh girl, I was crying like a little kid on the day their dog died or something. Talking to Debi afterwards was the worst for me though. She avoided me the entire week because she was afraid she'd get too emotional. So when she actually talked to me after the show it was pretty bad. I must have hugged her for a straight 817 seconds, give or take a few. I can't do this! I really should have just failed all my classes in school so that I could stay back another year, not graduate, and keep dancing!

Crazy week. It's left me exhasted (in every sense), sore, physically sick, depressed... but man oh man, I loved it.