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missellafitz
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Name: amy
Location: Springfield, Missouri, United States
Birthday: 3/18/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: i really enjoy ripley's believe it or not museums...real conversations...short stories...christopher guest movies...seinfeld..and on and on i go.
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  galaxyglue01
Member Since:
1/4/2005
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chicago. tomorrow. we drive out at noon, and won't return until well into next week. with no hesitations at this point, only hopes for docile hostels and "pleasant" weather, we will drive. mild preparation has led to this eve, and now that it's here...i wish i had done more.
we are constantly representing ourselves; in the grocery store when we choose an impatient sigh and unforgiving facial follies when we must wait or when we run a red light in the middle of the night. the intersection is empty - but our action still represents us. neither good or bad. it's just a choice. its interpretation, however, lies in the minds of many mindless men and women who happened to witness the decision.
this audition will represent me, and you better believe the men and women who will witness it have minds! mind you, all people are equal - no one greater, better, or worse than the next. these people, however, have found seats of security in institutions due to ever-expanding experience and knowledge. incredible.
so. we'll see. how WILL i rep. myself? hah.
i already know the answer to that questions. i think. | | |
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so it's come to sickness...yep. sickness which has prompted me to update my xanga. i remember first starting this thing, and i do believe that occasion occurred late at night as well. blech. sickness.
i have less than a week to regain my health, my sanity, and my lines for this crazy audition. i'm not sure i fully understand what i've gotten myself into, why i have chosen to do so, and what i will do with the outcome. i'm nervous, sure. auditions are always nerve wrecking. but nervous more for after those 3-minute monologues. after i walk out of that room. what's gonna happen? where am i gonna go? i'll be done, and still have no clue as to what's next.
i wonder if life were like a romantic-comedy, "would i get annoyed?" i mean, really. would i recognize how horrible the acting is or how illogical the plot twists are? would i be able to suspend belief for the inconceivable actions and unlikely series of events? is there any way i could ignore the belligerently bigoted characters that bark on screen? would i be able to stand all that ... if it were me? if life were simpler and more conclusive, stitched together in an hour and a half? would i be able to stand it, and say, "okay...just give me the happy ending"...?
nah. i'm too aware. | | |
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my last semester of college, and i will barely be in the classroom...
the undergrad classrom that is.
i start.
this thursday.
high school.
student teaching.
here goes. | | |
|  it’s funny what happens when you stop participating when you lock up doors and begin gating your heart, protecting your feelings carefully curving that key to the shop that secures all of your thoughts cause behind that wall the finest china sits seated on shelves, it all neatly fits there are no errors there are no mistakes there are no buyers, no one to take notice or interest___ there is no criticism, no praise. safe. behind lock and key. i am safe, when it’s just me. | | |
| i found a number of old pictures. pictures that were old, and i looked old in them. like this one. not sure when or why it was taken or who necessarily did the makeup. either way it made me smile. it made me think of all my school pictures, and with each year i could expect to see a physical change, not a distortion, but a shift...my face continously changes! it's true, i promise.  this may have been someone's makeup project before i was "officially" a part of the drama department. yeaaah, i believe heather baker did this, but i'm not sure. if this is the evidence of that event, i remember never wanting to take off the makeup. that it felt so good on my skin, it felt so good to be in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing...it felt...i felt. .. good.
now maybe i can say that i know what i'm doing. that i can take care of someone else in my hands. not that i don't want to be taught or that i have gained enough to go and sculpt a new, to find my own block...no, no. but maybe i can impart what i do have command over and what i do strive to be. if nothing else to influence and encourage. its like looking up the lady's skirt who's climbing above me...i can only look up! here's to looking up ladies skirts and letting others up yours. | | |
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