bumbling list of fools
Opening night for the fortnight competition is going to be February the 14th - also known as Valentine's Day - in front of the judge's panel and everything. We'll be graded on opening night, but we'll have a second performance on the fifteenth. If you're lost, it's ok, this is just the one-act play I'm in.

Directly following that is the inter-college public speaking competition hosted by University of Wollongong. I'm the AUD representative in the impromptu speaking category. But I won't be able to spend the whole day there because the band is putting on their first show.

Antifrat. I'm just the manager, so I won't be on stage, but we've been working for a while on the set, the image, the schedules, booking the room for rehearsals, going through the regulations for the "amp requirements". I've gone through so much research on the past of this band, on the backgrounds of the members, on why anyone would hate on my friends.

My roommate is the guitarist. One of my best friends is the lead vocalist and guitarist. The drummer is my own drumming instructor and the bassist is my roommate's friend. I want all these people to turn everyone's heads. I want all the people that hated on the band the last time they performed to walk away pleasantly surprised. There's not much I can do offstage to improve their performance, but I won't settle for anything less. Call it irrational. Fine.

So much to do, it's absolutely intoxicating.

How's this for a set?
-Nirvana: Love Buzz
-Goldfinger: 99 Red Balloons
-Elvis Presley: Jailhouse Rock
-Jack Off Jill: I Touch Myself

Open to suggestions please ^-^

OK I go sleep now. Night night.

I'm alive... I'm dead...

My dinner was ruined a couple of nights ago when I was witness to an Iranian couple having a fight. The girl cried, the boy yelled. He would shove her, insult her, then she would spit on him, and he would sit on her and punch her several times. Then he would get up and insult her some more, and the cycle would go on.

I was told not to intefere by my roommate, Areej, who has witnessed this several times in various public places. And maybe I couldn't go up to them and tell them to stop, but I couldn't take my eyes off of them either. Same with the rest of us. The only person who was looking at their food and not at the fight was Areej, the girl who had seen it all before.

The guys, getting reasonably upset, got up and told the security guard to stick around. The security guard responded by taking a walk and doing absolutely nothing. And in the time they were gone, the whole time I was looking at her, she finally looked back.

When he smacked her in the face, she turned around, looked right at me, and yelled across the food court, "What the fuck you looking at?! Bitch!"

I was stunned. If someone is beating up someone else in public, you know what? People will stare. Areej tellsme stories about how long this has been going on, about how it's some kind of twisted relationship between them, how they both like it this way. Don't think I stopped looking when she yelled at me, though. We were the only people in the entire food court. She would constantly sneer at anyone who so much as passed by them on the way out. Several times she would yell over her shoulder that "those fuckers are looking."

And I had a come back, afterwards, when the initial shock was over. "You're making a spectacle and ruining my dinner. Take your issues in private, please."

And to think, I never thought I'd be the kind of person to sit by and not do anything.

Every morning, we wake up, we dress up, we go out, we come back. Every afternoon, we eat up, we drink up, we change clothes, we go out. Every evening, we get made up, we get drugged up, we pass out, we go home.

On the other hand...

There are some who, every morning, wake up, wash up, pray, and go to classes. Every afternoon, these people eat up, drink up, hurry up, they have classes in a few minutes. And every evening, they come home, they wash up, they study hard and they pray again. Again and again and again before bed, because they're so scared, and they're so sad, that we never seem to go anywhere at all.

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs pretending the echoes belone to someone I used to know.

Paintball is amazing, and if you haven't been shot at by a ball of paint travelling at 300 feet per second, then you haven't lived.

the internet in the dorms has been acting up (again) and it's being iffy about letting me into woohu. i can update (sometimes) and i can check my friends page (sometimes) but i can't read any comments! it's SO frustrating.

in other news, i found a very interesting announcement on the Troupe's bulletin.


Welcome back! Wish you a very Happy New Year and Eid
Mubarak. The Troupe is back and promises to be highly
active this term. The first of the many events for the
Troupe is an inter-college public speaking
competition. The Troupe plans on sending 12
participants for the competition, which is organized
by University of Wollongong and will be held on
February 16th at Knowledge Village. The categories for
the competition are as follows:

- Original Oratory
- Extemporaneous Speaking
- Impromptu Speaking
- Radio Address
- Storytelling (Traditional)
- Storytelling (Original)

impropmtu. i have to try it again. must. i just have to squeeze it in between classes, acting, directing and writing for the zine. no problem.

I'm leaving on Friday the thirteenth. I hope it's not bad mojo, but I'm just anxious to get back home.

I really see you upside down.

What am I waiting for?

Don't desert me now.

The thing about me is, you have to get past a lot. You have a lot of defense mechanisms you have to get through, and a lot of protests and contradictions. I rarely come right out and ask for help, when it matters anyway, and a lot of the time, right after I do, I'll yell at you for helping me. You have to get past the brutal sense of humor, the pretentious indignation, the hostility and then, the tears. Some layers are omissions of facts and other layers are just downright lies. Some layers are truthful to the bone, some layers are just for show. And deep down, when you can get past the big hair, the glasses, the odd clothes and the sneakers, when you can get past the jittery stance and the gait and the high-pitched squealing voice, when you can get past the book-smart talk about nothing at all and the contemptuous snort at everything that is important, then there’s me. A little sad, a little happy, a little brave, and very scared.

The mismatched earrings, the autographed shoes, the childish whine, the chalk-stained jeans, the odd-sounding laugh, the charming enthusiasm, the nerd and the bimbo, the cheerleader and the loner, the musician and the mathematician, if you can get past that, it’d be great.

But if you could get past all that and still like me, still consider me a friend, still consider me a loved one, a family member or whatever it is I am to you now, then that’d just make it all irrelevant, wouldn't it?