MALEFICENT.....SUCKED.

Maleficent. 

One of the most anticipated movies of the year. So many big stars had signed onto the project such as Robert Stromberg, a director and visual effects artist, who brought us such classics as Pan's Labyrinth and The Aviator; Linda Woolverton, a playwright, who gave us our childhood when she wrote the screenplays for Beauty & The Beast and The Lion King----- and of course, Angelina Jolie as the title character of Maleficent. It was practically woven in the fabric that it was to be a smash hit.

SO WHY WAS IT SO DREAM CRUSHING, LIFE SUCKING, MIND- NUMBINGLY, HORRIFYINGLY BAD. 

The script was a paradox within itself because it was so starkly simple yet so much of the script was purposeless and pointless.

The editing included so many harsh jump cuts to entirely different story plots, WHILE STILL including enough slow and soft fades to make me think this movie was one of the four ending from Lord Of The Rings: Return Of The King.

Because direction & editing, as well as playwriting are such key factors in making a script----- this movie rotted from its core.

Before I go any further: *SPOILER ALERT* 


So let's start from the beginning---- we open with a young Maleficent soaring through "the moors", and underscored by a narrator who speaks as if this whole things is a tale.


EVERYTHING IS WRONG RIGHT THERE.

1. Sleeping Beauty was originally written by Charles Perrault & Giambattista Basile (The Brother's Grimm). The story was originally set in France-----so why is this tale based in SEVERAL FUCKING LOCATIONS YET IN THE SAME LOCATION AT ONCE. The Moors are an infamous region of Spain, and they were also a ghetto slang for "dangerous fucking rocks" in Ireland..... everyone in this movie either has a Scottish accent or a British accent----- sooooooo....W.T.F. Seriously. Did no one have time to pick a fucking setting? The costuming evokes a 16th century France, as did the original animated film that Disney produced from 1959. YET the young girl, Aurora has an Italian boruque style, and then later a dutch hem dress for the rest of the film. so-------------------- again. W.T.F Pick an era, pick a location AND FOR GOD'S SAKE STICK WITH IT! And if you are going to invent your own place, at least let us know! For example, The Hunger Games is set in somewhere futuristic North America.... Lord of The Rings is said to be based in parts of New Zealand.... etc. Seriously.... come on.

2. Young Maleficent is soaring. With her fucking eagle wings. She is supposed to be a FAIRY. Which is another thing that bothers me in this film. They never clearly define what and/or who is a fairy. The "fairies" go between being pixies, sprites, and fairies throughout the movie---which gives it the nod that all those words a re interchangable synonyms of eachother. but they aren't. For example: the fairies Flittle, Knotgrass, and Thistletwit (aka Flora, Fawna, and Meryweather...they even changed their names. Why? I don't know May to piss on my childhood.)---these fairies can change their size at will and have clear dragonfly like wings. While Maleficent is rather human like with horns, and eagle wings---- In the beginning sequences of her flying around these fairies comment that she thinks she's all that because she has the biggest wings..... yet they share no similarities at all. In fact, Maleficent ages throughout the film like a human would----while the "fairies" do not. So really----what is Maleficent besides a giant human with big eagle wings. She actually bares more resemblance to a harpy than fairy. And if she IS a fairy, then where are the others? There clearly must be people just don't "appear" etc. I'll rant about this later on probably. So let's drop this for now. Moving on.

3. The Narrator. Dear fucking christ, if Morgan Freedman was a girl....and boring as fuck.... that person would be this narrator. The film starts off as if this is a reader telling a tale to someone small (even though they show no sequences of it being a tale like they did in the early animated films of Cinderella AND the original Sleeping Beauty). However the narrator switches between "she" and "I" indicated that the speaker is Maleficent; this is later further speculated because of their fucking British accents. Yet at the end of the movie the speaker goes to say that she was actually "the one they called sleeping beauty"........ Okay..... well then, WHEN DID SHE GET OLD. If she was going to be sleeping beauty, then they should have let Ellie Fanning (sleeping Beauty) voice the voice overs!  OR show an aged sleeping beauty! IN FACT the got Janet McTeer, some random British woman to do this voice over---- she never even had a character in this entire script.


SO MOVING ON FROM THE OPENING CREDITS, because I could spend a lifetime on just that...

Young Maleficent meets a young Stephan and they become fast friends and soon "lovers"--- despite that they are from neighboring kingdoms and completely different species. He somewhere along the line becomes obsessed with becoming King.

1. CHILD ACTORS. Need I say more?

2. It was an interesting choice to make him become obsessed with gaining access to the crown---but how the fuck did that happen. Stephan was a poor farm boy: and last time I checked this wasn't A Knight's Tale  or The Sword In the Stone. You don't earn that shit. This was back in the time of class ranks----so the kid was either lying to Maleficent to get inside her loincloth OR the kid bumped a few guys of Game Of Thrones Style to get where he wanted to go. PLUS they never show that. When we meet him he never shows an inkling of interest in the human world--- only interest in "the moors". With bad acting and bad character development on the actor and the writer's part----it was a hard hard HARD miss.

There is a battle (and okay---I will say this---the special effects were amazing: but then again, they got the guy from The Hunger Games so that was kinda expected)---- and Stephan cuts Maleficent's wings off. He becomes king, and has a child---while Maleficent crown's herself and becomes a brooding witch.

1. the battle was cool, but they really did pull their trump card too early. We are only 15 minutes into the movie and they use this. If you re-watch the trailer you'll see that almost 85% of it is footage of the first battle. the rest of the battles, and the scenes fail to be as climactic and as mind blowingly awesome.

2. After cutting of Maleficent's wings, Stephan becomes king. And apparently also gets married. And apparently also receives a daughter----in the span of a day? Maleficent  sends her crow, Diaval, to spy on the King.When he returns with the news she is always in the same spot/pose. in the same outfit. So either she really likes that brown cloak or somethings wanky in the time line. It takes a while for that to all happen: first he needed to court the girl, which normally takes a few months, then coronation, then the wedding, and then consummation of the marriage, then 9 months to produce an heir....and what happened between then? no battles? No anything? REALLY? Dude cut of Maleficent's WINGS. HE PHYSICALLY MUTILATED HER BODY and she didn't attack? okay, perhaps she was regaining strength and working on her next move----they could have showed that! They spent so much time showing the kinship between Maleficent and Stephan---and then it is all gone within moments! We know nothing of his knew queen or even if he still has feelings for Maleficent! Once their character's grew into adults their character development stopped all together.

3. I guess I should get this out of the way before I go any further: KING STEPHAN IS A TOTAL ASSHOLE. He has no regard for life or love or feeling. And that'd be great if that was the character through and through----but he's not! He's played like a tortured soul who is doing what's best for his kingdom----but he's not! It is all based out of maddening anger and revenge. The revenge spawned from when the curse was first placed upon the baby Aurora----he cared so much that he begged and pleaded in front of his subjects....and the bahm! He didn't even care that his wife, his queen, was dying (btw: it was never fully confirmed that she died. it was like: well---bye,  i think) and then when he finally meets his daughter after being away from her for 16 YEARS OF HER LIFE he tosses her aside to make battle plans, only seeing her as a ploy to get Maleficent out of hiding. AND THEN ON TOP OF THAT: Aurora wakes up 25 minutes before the movie ends. His father sees that his daughter is awake and totally fine.... shouldn't that have ended the fighting? The war was only waged to protect the princess from the curse! The curse broke 7 minutes after it was enacted---- and no one cared. They threw Aurora away like the useless pawn she was. The King didn't care about his daughter, Didn't care about his wife, Didn't care about his subjects (who he put through a war of attrition)---he only cared about revenge against Maleficent FOR SOMETHING HE STARTED.....douche.


SO THE BABY IS BORN. They have a huge coronation: and of course, don't invite Maleficent, and then of course comes the infamous scene that everyone was waiting for. As the last "fairy" goes to give Aurora her gift, Maleficent come and crashes the party, and curses Aurora.

1. OKAY..... so they are having a battle against all the magical creatures----Why the fuck did they invite the three "fairies". They state that they only come in peace---but where the hell was that attitude three minutes ago? IN THAT GIANT ASS BATTLE OF DEATH? AND WHERE WAS THAT PEACEFUL OUTLOOK WHEN MALEFICENT TOOK THE THRONE AND FORCEFULLY HURT HUMAN SOLDIERS?!

2. This is an OCD thing---but it was Maleficent who altered her own curse to have Aurora not die, but rather fall asleep---and the third fairy never got to give Aurora her gift. Just like----wow. Thanks for nothing... bitch.


The king freaks the fuck out and tells the fairies to go raise Aurora in the woods. secretly, to NO-ONE'S KNOWLEDGE Maleficent stalks them, and Aurora, as she grows up. She constantly creepily stares at her and saves her life---as well as interacts with her several times and brings her to The Moor----eventually, Maleficent likes the girl so much that she tries to take away the curse but cant.


Okay...SO MANY THINGS WRONG WITH THIS!

1. Okay.....THOSE. FUCKING. "FAIRIES". Where Do I even begin.... Flittle (aka Flora...the original head fairy) is played by Lesley Manville...aka Dolorse Umbridge from The Harry Potter Series... Aurora was raised by Umbridge. (let's just start there). All three Fairies are bumbling idiots who honestly should have been under inspection from ye old' DIFUS. They never fed her, changed her, and she wondered off all the fucking time. Like she fell of a cliff. She wandered into the woods and into the arms of a strange horned stalker...TWICE. And wandered around the giant ass thorn wall that guarded "The moors". The fairies complained and bumbled off and never bonded or took time to be with Aurora. EVER. IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE. Maleficent basically raised Aurora. Which is odd because Maleficent constantly states how she "hates children" and calls Aurora "beasty". Like ok...if you hate the girl so much---go away. I mean, you have a spying raven. he can spy for you. Really. It's okay. Get a life.

2. This transitions into my next point: Maleficent stalks Aurora. And fucks with the fairies all the time. Many shots are of Maleficent playing childish pranks on the fairies----- they literally add nothing to the story except some (poor) comic humor. Maleficent is an all out bad-ass evil villain. She paints herself that way, yet the film doesn't portray her as that. She starts of so sweet and innocent, then turns vindictive, and we see her promised evil only once (in that infamous scene we discussed earlier), and then she goes into a stalker mom who plays child-like pranks on some poor housewife who don't know what they are doing. The entire think was pointless.

3. Aurora has SEVERAL interactions with Maleficent. This ruins the magic of the first encounter. it ruins the mystery and the guise of stalking in the shadows, and watching from afar. She is very much so a part of Aurora young life--- it felt as if the same scene was done over and over and over again at different ages. It lost it's magic.

4. AURORA GOES INTO THE MOORS AND BECOMES BEST BUDDIES WITH MALEFICENT. this bothered me so much.
So basically there is a sequence where Maleficent puts Aurora to sleep and takes her to the moors. They interact, Maleficent puts Aurora back to sleep, and then returns her home.
This repeats several times throughout the script and it is never clarified if they are all through one interaction, or if they are from several different encounters. Either way, it depicts Aurora and Maleficent having a strong friendship bond---- Aurora even calls Maleficent her "fairy godmother". The fact that Maleficent brings Aurora into the moors is also rather anti-climactic. She even goes "hmm I wonder" before she does it too! It is the equivalent of going "i wonder what would happen if I stab you" and then you stab someone and you go "oh, that's what it's like. Okay". It made Maleficent so in-charge in a very artificial and unrealistic way---

4. 5: AURORA IS A PAWN IN THE ENTIRE MOVIE. One of the things I was looking forward to most in this new adaptation was seeing Aurora was a fully realized Character and not just a princess. In the original movie from 1959, Aurora, the character the film was named after, only got 18 lines of dialogue. Although Aurora wasn't the title character, she was still very important. She was used in the same way. She was a silly girl who was used a pawn in two people's revenge game. She does nothing important and nobody gives her any importance! True she is more "outspoken" in this version than the original---- but she honestly gets nothing for it! For several examples, Maleficent states that she is a curious girl--- we see that when she is in the moors and stares at everything in wonderlust---but wouldn't it have been more interesting if Aurora discovered the moors on her own? It would stay cannon in both characters------characters, as well as create action and angles between the two! In another instance---when Aurora first meets her father she rushes to him in a giant hug. he looks at her and says "you look just like your mother." (ya, the mom we know zilch about) " Lock her away in the tower! Maleficent is on her way!". She is used as bait. ALSO, ANOTHER INSTANCE: when she first meets Prince Philip---- she just stands there and does squat. nothing. She literally just stands there. She smiles and then---it is assumed that they are instantly in love. NO. NOT HOW IT WORKS! Even when Philip kisses her after literally only meeting her an hour earlier, nothing happens. because they are not in love. Yet at the end, we see the two together----- Aurora is not a pawn. She is a free spirited thinker.

5. Prince Philip----the kid is only in the movie for like--- 3 seconds. i feel so bad for this guy. They played him up so much. They played up the whole Aurora and Philip thing FOREVER. Honestly, Aurora had much more chemistry with Diaval, the crow, rather than Philip. Philip and Aurora only exchanged directions to the castle. That is literally all their dialogue between each other. Diaval fed her, clothed her, played with her when she was young and when she grew---- it was honest to god bad story telling.


MOVING ON: so it comes time for the curse to be enacted. Maleficent earlier tried to undo the curse because she learned to care for Aurora, but found that she could not. So they all set out to find her "true love" even though both the king and Maleficent state that "there is no such thing as true love". Once Aurora falls asleep, they kidnap (literally kidnap) Philip and force him to kiss her. Nothing Happens. Maleficent gives a lengthy speech about how regretful she is about all this and kisses Aurora's forehead----thus breaking the curse.

1.  True love can break the curse...... Only true love can thaw a frozen heart....hmmm...sound familiar? DING DING DING! you guessed it! FROZEN everyone (because it literally is taking over everything). This is the same kinda hallmark shit they pulled in their last Disney movie. It wasn't the conventional  romantic love, but rather the unconventional familiar love... yada-yada-yada. They played the same card twice. Big Shocker. Really. (*can you feel the sarcasm? )

2. THIS IS NOT THE FIRST TIME THAT AURORA WAS PUT TO SLEEP IN THIS MOVIE. SHE WAS ACTUALLY ASLEEP SEVEN TIMES (I counted) BEFORE THIS CURSE. ALSO---SHE WAS ASLEEP FOR LESS THAN THIRTEEN MINUTES. LITERALLY. She pricked her finger, fell asleep, was kissed by Philip in 3.5 seconds, and then by Maleficent--and then she awoke. The curse ended before the film did---and this was the supposed big climax!

3. I said it once, and I said it again: SHOULDN'T THE FILM HAVE ENDED THERE?!? the whole reason why this war was raging on was because they were worried about Aurora.(go to #4 to here my stem rant about why people loved her so much, even though they never even met her). The battled raged on even though it was very obvious that Aurora was awake. The entire time. This movie was honestly one petty feud after another.

4. The kingdom cared so much about a girl that they never even knew---- or did they? I think they just used her as an excuse to hate and pillage and fight.


Okay. So the film has another 15 minute long battle where Maleficent turns Diaval into a dragon, regain her wings, and slay the king: she then makes everything all pretty again by tearing down (her) the thorn bushed walls (haha, way to make a metaphor obvious) and crowning Aurora queen of both realms.


Thus ends the film. Finally.


I consider this to be THE MAN OF STEEL of Fantasy Movies.

Both movies were highly anticipated as reboots of childhood favorites----both showed a much darker take on the story---- and both had horrible editing and out of order story lines--- poor direction from great directors----- handsome actors who just couldn't act through their poorly crafted characters--- and childhood ruining scripts that defecated on the art of film and playwriting.


And just like MAN OF STEEL: there will be fans of the film. People will like it. I can't tell you what to think of something; but my personal take on it was that it diverged from the original tale too much and had a poor script and direction.

What do I give this film?  a negative 2 star rating and spot on my most despised films right beside The Dark Knight Rises, Man Of Steel, and The Charlie and The Chocolate Factory Re-boot.


I'm Hayley: officially stating that Maleficent SUCKED.

LOGS NOT BLOGS

So.... I really don't understand these new "logs" that we are doing---because their basically blogs with timestamps----

#Confussed?

SO I am just going to continue doing what I have been doing---and putting down time.


MONDAY-SATURDAY: Theatre and writing music. All day everyday.

Thursday*: Went to see a reading of PHILIA at Young Playwrights from 7-10ish. (SO GOOD btw)

SATURDAY: 4:30-Late 9ish I was at (played piano at) The Newark Imporv festival.


I haven't gotten much studying done (because, not to bitch---but I haven't had any time. I've been too busy attempting to underscore an entire show)----- SO I have decided that SUNDAY will be my study day. (yay----so much for sleeping)---

I wasn't there for when the day of the final was announced----so Here is my somewhat mock study guide I am making for myself using this website:

http://www.cwu.edu/~robinsos/ppages/resources/Theatre_History/



MAY 18th- Origins of Theatre, Theatre & Drama in Ancient, Roman & Byzentine Theatre

MAY 25th- European Drama in The Middle Ages, Italian Theatre, English Theatre (1642)

JUNE 1st- Spanish Theatre (1700- Golden Age), French Theatre (1500-1700), Asian Theatre

JUNE 8th- English Theatre (1642-1800), Italy & France (18th century), Northern and Eastern European Theatre of the 18th century.

JUNE 15th- Europe & US 19th century (then late 19th century), Modern Theatre (1875-1915)

JUNE 22nd- Theatre and war (WWI WWII), Europe and US 1940-1968, Theatre after 1968.



WHEH!

I am tired from just typing that!

well-----ya. I miss blogs.





-hayley

BLOGS (MAY THE 4TG BE WITG YOU)

happy star wars day ya'll.
so basically here is the rundown for all my blogs in the future:

I sorta basically sold ky soul to mainstage so I'm there all day everyday. On Thursday I played piano for the adult graduation and then on Saturday I had my play reading of SUPER at young playwrights. Got to work with Aaron from fault line theatre. Really lucked out because he is an amazing artist and I loved working with him. Also got reallly lucky because my reading fell out on national comic book. <3

so Tata for now I guess.

more to talk about later. :)

OHMYGOD I FORGOT TO BLOG

I forgot to blog, but I was at school all week Tech rehersals all day every day this whole week.

THATS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT.

SORRY.

Blogs and bit of a rant

So blogs for this week:


Monday: I stayed after to help with auditions. fun.

Tuesday: I was in the city for my internship with Young Playwrights. my play is due on the 15th and I have ALOT of 9/11 to reveiw over. yay.

Wednesday: I started the programs. woot woot. and started the bio's (which I will rant about later).

Thursday: I stayed after and I had a voice lesson with N'digo. She doesn't have a great voice, but I think voice lessons will be really good for her acting because it will help her breathe and de-tenseify herself.

Friday: Finished the programs, even though basically none of the seniors did their bio's. I am VERY upset about this because no one listens to me about deadlines. As seniors we should be setting examples, and bio's is literally the easiest thing to because they all have them already done. All they needed to do was copy and paste them into the document. So in return, they aren't in the program. they have a name and nothing else. It's embarrassing. It really shows jsut how much no one gives a fuck about deadlines and how they dont care about actually doing anything for this show. We won't have a show done and I feel like Hannah and I are the only people really doing things for this show. Again. I always feels that I just never said it. Well: there it is.

And it upsets me: because I love my fellow seniors! They are aweosme and talented: but OHMYGOD lazy ass bastards who are so fully of senior-itis I am going to have quarentine the entire theatre classroom.

I know that I have senioritis too because I am gonig to collage and I just want to be done so I can work with people that will treat things professionally and respectfully.

I am jsut so sick and tired of being walked on. i've had enough. if I have to turn into some mega-godzilla bitch to get things done? SO BE IT THEN.

Bitch-zilla out.


https://drive.google.com/?tab=mo&authuser=0#folders/0B7YWfo0O1gsTRnlsN3lvX0dFaGs


(OHMYGOD: WHY DID NONE OF MY WORK SHOW HERE AND SHIT OHMYGOD I AM SO PISSED ITS ALL OUT OF LINE. FUCK IT: I'M EMAILING IT TO PEOPLE)

Blogs

SO THIS WEEK WAS A WASTER OF LIFE.

I did alot of things: super cool: super pointless. I started the menu/playbill to find out that it wont FUCKING SAVE AND THAT I NEED TO PAY 20 DOLLARS A MONTH TO DO THAT.
SO
FUCK THAT.

MENU PLAYBILL START

I'm going with plan B which is a not as awesome version of a menu through words.

I also started the character charts for each play: not very happy with my artistic abilities buttttt I did my best. So there. I used a general form (found through google. thank you interwebs):

And here is what I did with them: (first drafts) 

BLOGS---i think

Again: informal blogs! (it seems to be my cup of tea lately)

MONDAY:--- did I stay after for rehearsal? I think I did. YES. I DID AND I WROTE THINGS AND YES. so rehersal. woop.

TUESDAY: I had a reading of my play SUPER at Young Playwrights: I personally hate the play and I forgot that I was reading a "9/11" play to teenagers of 9/11----oops. Still they had a lot of great feedback for the next step but I still don't think I am the right person to tell this story. Still, it is under comission so I jsut have perservere! if you for some silly reason want to read the horrid script: (no changes yet:) tada. LINK TO SCRIPT THING

WEDNESDAY: I toured around with guidance members and bragged about school. i got free brunch. Yum. Then I stayed after again. Worked on more music. Wrote 4 songs, learned 1 song, wrote a sing along version AND a kareoke version for "the Graduate"

(Graduate Kareoke)

(I wanna Know Everything)

(Graduate Song-a-long)

(The Blame Song)

(My Philip Glass)

(My Somewhat Philip Glass)

(The Power Puff Girls Theme Song: a request)


THURSDAY: not going to lie. i did nothing. NOTHING. you know why? Because I earned it. Go me.

FRIDAY: I read over the freshmen scripts for hw. Very upset with them. They all (except Jessica) missed their deadlines. I won't tolerate that. They need to learn that it is KEY to being a playwright (and being a respectful and working artist) that when I say "give me your script friday night at 11:00pm" I better have that script by "9:00pm Friday night". Not sunday afternoon saying "lol sorry forgot".

A writer bases their life on getting things in by deadlines. So I told them i won't read their work until their next deadline. They have to learn the hard way. i feel like crap doing that to them but they really do need to learn. Hopefully they will and I can go back to being nice.

I will be worrying with Jessica because she actually listened to me. Go jess.


that was my week.
woop.


-hayley

"BLOGS"

And by blogs---I mean me ranting about things for 3 minutes in short, miss-spelled, choppy sentences!!! (woot woot)



SO: what I did today---- I had my internship on Tuesday( Just found out: I'm getting a reading of SUPER on Tuesday, which is much needed because I am yet to get feedback on it)----

I can't remember---but I think it was thursday (and or) friday that I stayed after for rehersal.

I know I stayed on Saturday for mainstage: speaking of: MOY EXCITED.

I spent my week locked in my room writing music. I wrote 5 songs (2 which aladren has heard and approved)---and---ya.

I've been trying to work with my freshmen as much as  possible. They haven't sent me anything this week (which worries me) so I'll speak with them come monday.

But til then: MAINSTAGE PROGRESS.

Feel really honored and excited to be part of the show this year!
(the songs are on evernote and I am going to try and upload the other three later but there are some issues with that---so yurp).


ALSO: not blog related: but I heard back from ARS NOVA. My play "THIS IS NOT A PLAY" did not make it to the finals, but the company manager wrote me this really nice personal note and I just felt really nice. They could have just mailed me a rejection letter but they were so sweet to discuss my work with me and encourage me to continue sending my work to them. so shout out to them!

My blog for today (thing I did for main stage: creative transcription of aladren talking)

https://www.evernote.com/shard/s347/share/234cd-s347/#b=4ffa6162-de24-4a03-be7c-eb1ccfe521e3&st=p&n=a62f9f57-90fd-42a7-9b17-561d503eaf2a

 HISTORY PERSON (very fast; very confident. think horrible Histories BBC host)

An abridged history of education. 

We come down from the trees. We look up. We see the moon: we go- "what the hell is that thing" and we start questioning "why". What is this? Why is this? Why is that? And that is the beginning of education for us humans. We start but we don't get far. Because we are hungry. Thirsty. Rain is pouring on our heads, and animals are eating us. We don't have time to ponder the moon; so we forget about it until we figure out how to get together in communities and we protect each other and we fend for each other. Only then, do we look back up at the moon and we ask again, and we remember "why". We asked WHY.

We start to write. Discover it. Create it. We write to communicate ideas. Questions. We write the code of Hammurabi: we write the beginnings of laws. And it's good. Except for the fact that it's not if you aren't a king, or an aristocrat or if you're rich. Otherwise you are still trying to fight the animals, and stop the rain, and quench your thirst and find your food.

And times passes. Passes without being missed: passes until 500 BC.

The Greeks finally have enough of a structure where they figure out that people can take the time to educate themselves. Plato discovers that he start academies in Greece. That he can have disciples. He discovers that we can ask questions. We discover mathematics. Arithmetic. Philosophy.  We start to discover the stars. Astronomy. WE discover the universe outside our front door. 

But then catastrophe ensues!

The library of Alexandria, THE library of the world: the cradle of our books and knowledge of all that math and science and life that we loved--- burns to the ground. We forget. We forget about everything. We forget and we start to fight each other: and the dark ages sweep over us and blacks out all of our questions. It erases all of our progress. Destroys all the knowledge that we accumulated from the recess corners of our minds. That knowledge goes into hiding. It becomes concealed in convents and masked in monasteries. Monks are copying what little we have left by hand: person to person: generation to generation: yet nobody is allowed to read it. Nobody knows anything. We forget that the blood flows. We forget that the earth revolves around the sun. We forget about the bones in our body; how to do surgeries on our brains; how to write and read. But then all of a sudden we remember: we may have forgotten everything, but we never forgot how to learn. 

This is how the renaissance happens. 

We all breathe a collective sigh. And then we get to work. 

We start to institute universities. For the first time, we start to loosen the grip on education. We stop being so strict about who can and cannot learn. It's not only the rich; now it is only the people that WANT to be intellectuals. They can go to the universities (if a rich person sponsored you) and we can learn things and we can communicate with each other. And that is what we do.

In France, Rousseau starts speaking up: he says that the only way to educate people to go farther as a species is to educate everybody. 

And finally, FINALLY, in 1635, along comes Horace Mann and John Dewy: not together but separately as amazing: they somehow both think up the great idea of: public education. Of course Dewy would get credited as the "father of modern education"--- but Mann is truly "the man" here-- he states that "Education is our only political safety. Outside of that ark all is deluge.That If ever there was a cause, if ever there can be a cause, worthy to be upheld by all of toil or sacrifice that the human heart can endure, it is the cause of Education". He states that education is a RIGHT for EVERYBODY(* "everybody"). Children should not be in the work force, they should not be toiling the fields, they should not be trying to survive: that they are not animals of burden. They are actually brains, Beings, that are growing, and that youth is the best time to give them all of the education that they can grown up to become citizens of the universe.

We decide: then and there that it is worth it. That our children are worth it. And it becomes a right. 

And later it becomes a right for all genders, all races, all people of all kinds. 

And that brings us to now. 

That brings us to this moment: to this sentence. 

It brings us to our porches, to our yards: 

we are still starring at that moon. 

And we are still---- always and forever: asking "why". 

And that is education. 

Having Lunch with the Homeless at Panera Bread (A true story about my afternoon)

He sat across from me: his attention torn between the cinnamon roll and my eyes. For me, it was no contest: the food was uninteresting. Probably precooked. My soup was too hot to even touch-- and nothing could be more intriguing than the man in front of me. It might have been the greasy hair that was half dread-locked and  half left to arrange itself, or the unknown black goop that dripped like paint underneath his left eye---- but he was something different.

It's not every day that you see a homeless man begging in the middle of a Panera Bread. But maybe it is normal in New York. I'm not sure, nor do I want to be.

I remember specifically as I stumbled into the store--out of the cold New York Streets to see him, kindly searching in line: his hand stretched out holding mere pennies--- asking if someone would help him buy a cinnamon bun.

My nose crinkled from a combination of disgust as people rudely told him to leave, and from a sneeze coming on from my inevitable cold. I walked to the end of the line and outstretched my hands and lightly tapped his shoulder.

He felt cold. Too cold to the touch, as he turned to me...His eyes were blue: almost crystal. The rest of him was mucky and dirty. He wore New York like a cape---the smell of the subway stuck on his thin black and brown jacket permanently.

My parents have always told me to be weary of people, especially the homeless. But I could see that this man wouldn't do me any harm: His cheeks reminded me of an old Santa Claus picture from an "ancient" coca-cola ad. The man towered over me in height, but I did not feel small. The way he looked at me was a look that I rarely get from most people. His eyes were wide like a child begging, and open as if ever little new detail was something new to wonder at. A discovery.

I told him quietly and politely that I would be glad to buy him a cinnamon roll. He stood there, observing me as I did so as well to him. I could read him like a book, and his pages were fascinating. They were empty with coffee stains around them: so honest and blank.  As I reached the front of the line and paid for both my food (a small french onion soup) and his (a large hot cinnamon roll)--- he gave me a creased and crinkled, yet beautifully genuine smirk of happiness. I nodded my head to him as I was given my food, and I handed him his cinnamon bun.

We were both close to the door and as each new customer came in we both could feel the cool breeze brush up against our backs. His eyes closed for a moment---as the cold went out of its way to try and tease him in the cruelest of ways.  I pictured the nights he must spend out there---with nothing but that cruel cold to be his blanket----

I invited him to lunch.

The table I had mentally picked out for myself was not too far away, and there was an extra seat. Panera was warm, and so was his honest smile: so I figured it would be safe.

I sat down first, as if this was a date and we were following the unspoken protocol of society in the romantic form. He sat across from me--- as we both placed and unwrapped our food in front of ourselves--but neither of as ate.

He stared at me and I stared at him.
He smile at me, and I smiled at him.

It must have been seconds before one of us, I can't remember who, broke the bond and began to eat.
As we ate neither of us said a word, and we would go back and forth between eating our food and starring at each other like we were the only people in Panera Bread.

Normally I dislike it when people stare at me. The way an eye can focus on a human body can easily make someone feel like an animal inside a cage at the zoo. But his stare was gentle---and not menacing or judging. His stare was studying.  Accurate as he flipped through me like a novel. It made me feel warm inside. I love being read, and I am picked off the shelf so very rarely---

We sat there for 20 minutes and did nothing but that. We sat there and ate our lunch in silence, and read each other in the stillness.

And as we finished we stopped and shared a moment of eye contact: His blue orbs focused on my chocolate ones: solely. And we had a conversation without moving our lips. Synchronized we talked to each other without saying a word. We talked about everything yet never said anything at all. In that moment, in that one wordless moment I knew so much.

I knew that these moments were rare and rare for a reason. they were dangerously beautiful. And scary. He had finished my book and placed me back into my shelf in the back. I closed his and returned it to it's owner.

I wanted to tell him he was beautiful and kind and that I felt sorry for reading his sad chapter in life--- but I didn't. I nodded my head, and he nodded back.
I knew he knew what I meant.

And we rose and stood there: never breaking our ocular bond.
And he said two words to me, the most honest and innocent: "Thank you" I have heard in my life.
It sounded like the fluttering of wings or the falling of snow on a rose petal.

I smiled and said "You're welcome" and with that one last look, we both got up, and walked out of Panera Bread. I did not turn to see him go. I don't think he saw me either.

He went his way.
And I went mine.

And I smiled to myself as I remember what his eyes told me what words could not.

I'd like to think that he was smiling too.

Thoughts on Acting, From a Playwright (Skins and Shoes)

I have always loved the phrase "Walk a mile in another man (or woman's, that's right: woman equality) shoes". However, many people prefer the original Atticus Finch quote from To Kill A Mockingbird "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." I prefer shoes to skin because with shoes there is something to fill in. You can build a person up by the tiniest of details. For example, I can deduce from the worn out dance shoes in my mothers closet that she used to like to dance, but they are old and shoved into the back of a closet, so I know that she no longer dancers or does so rather rarely. I can tell that when she does go out, she has a lot of fun because they tips are scuffed and the back of the heel is beginning to tare. This tells me that she is,or was, a party-er, but is now living a calmer life in the middle of NJ. Just by her shoes I can deduce all of that. It might not be true, but it certainly makes a character. Simple things like shoes are paintbrushes to an artist. It is a tool that allows us  Now, skin on the other hand, leaves no room for artistry. It is already adjusted too--- it is layer upon layer of complexity. true it is beautiful to ware---but it is impossible to get out of. You must literally skin yourself alive to remove yourself from it. With shoes, you can slip them on and off again. Change the color. Adjust the height. Add sparkles or scuffs or polka dots. You can even choose to be barefoot in the sand---

Skin is wall. A wall that seals you off from the world. A shoe is just a cover. It can be removed.

I like to think of acting in that way. Skins and shoes.

A good actor can wear all types of clothing and make a character around it. They "art" by making their characters snakes. They can create and build a strong skin and then easily shed it. Because the skin is not real.
The minute that the skin hardens like a shell and sticks and stings to your body---there is no longer a character. There is no longer an art. There is no long an actor.

It is a fine line of art and insanity that an actor must walk everyday. That is what makes their job so beautifully dangerous and alluring. I think, personally and professionally, once an actor is lost in a character they lose the right to be called an actor. There is no art in tormenting yourself by becoming someone else in such a literal sense.

I think the over analyzation that it takes to "take on" someone's skin is rather---- alarming. I think there is a line in the sand that many people don't see when it comes to physiology and art. I don't think it should be crossed. It shouldn't even be danced upon--- but rather around.

I don't like looking too close over the edge---because I know that I like to jump at the chances I get. I know that I would fall, easily and I would hit hard.

I guess that is why I'm not an actor. So I cannot personally say or prescribe what to do when it comes to character---however, as an observer and as an artist--- I think there is a time for risks, and that is at the roulette table and not at your mental stability.

I understand that every artist has the need  to dig deep to find something underneath. Some metaphor. Some underlying theme and message about humanity and ourselves....

but sometimes... a poem is just a poem. Sometimes a play is just a play.

Sometimes a skin is just a skin, and a shoe is just a shoe.

I think it is a dangerous water that one treads when art becomes an obsession. Art should be look at, but not scrutinized. Skimmed but not searched. Fantasized but not probed.
A poem by Bill Collins really sums up my opinion on not only acting and psychology, but art in general:

I ask them to take a poem   

and hold it up to the light   

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem   

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room   

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski   

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope   

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose   

to find out what it really means.

http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2014/03/how-actors-create-emotions-a-problematic-psychology/284291/

BLOGS (sort 0f)

This has been a sad, sad, week.

I barley got anything done---*slaps self on the wrist*

Tuesday I was in the city doing interny things.
Friday I was at the dance show.

Monday I tweeked the Blueberry hill prezi with more information.
http://prezi.com/pu-hgbwibvba/blueberry-hill-accord/

But other than that---I didn't get that much done.

I mostly focused on helping the freshmen with their plays----- It really worries me, I know they won't be ready for monday----

I just want to hold them and help them as much as I can, but its so hard because we are not only going against time, but their own walls as well as mine when it comes to teaching.

I know that they will learn alot on Monday when the plays are read---but Im so worried that the punch will be too painful.

Some of the plays are salvagable---but I just wish I could get in their minds and break everything so they can start writing good, interesting, plays!


I think I ask too much and teach to little----
worried.
I'm going to go work on SURPRISE as well as THE PHILADELPHIA on the prezi.

night.

BLOGS

Hi!

Quicky-quicky-quicky blogs:


So Tuesday I was in NYC doing my playwrighting internship---Wednesday I was in the city again to see HAND TO GOD (must see, btw: DO IT. DO IT NOW).

Thursday I was teaching a voice lesson with Jillian---

The other nameless and some-what less important days---I did more reading into the play(s). I updated Blueberry hill accord prezi--- and I also started working really hard on the freshmen writers.

I'm really worried....
because I remember sucking hard----but not this much.
I mean last year with ashley, she was decent enough to hold her own.

I shouldn't be too judgmental and cruel though---it is only a first-ish draft.


Can't wait to get my hands on them on monday and work with them.
Also they need to listen to me when i tell them how to format things in a folder---- they just DONT LISTEN>

*cries to self*

Blogs for this week (to lazy to check specific dates)

 Dramaturgy.

That's all I have to say.

Okay, that's wrong; I always have things to say! Tuesday I had my internship and all so there's that----I'm freaking out because my commission for them is horribleeeeeee and I hate it and I'm embarrassed by it and its having a public-ish reading

And gah

1st world theatre problems.

Back to dramaturgy: started some analysis I'm having a hard time figuring out what is character analysis, director analysis, and dramaturgy.

So I'm only doing FACTUAL things like etymology, references--- etc.

I'm putting them in cute little prezi's so they look all nice and organized. 

Ill post the links below once I get access to an actual computer:

http://prezi.com/pu-hgbwibvba/blueberry-hill-accord/

http://prezi.com/6fseiumhg1s6/the-philidelphia/

http://prezi.com/sel4x1m0hgal/surprise/

Rejection

I don't understand why it hurts so much.
How words on paper, that looks like any other ordinary paper: could find its way into my skin and boil to froth, and have it stream down my cheeks in the form of tears.

I don't understand why it hurts so much,
why it hurts at all
why it is even here at all.


From a young age I was told that wanting something was good enough. That wishing was good and working for that wish--- that wish would come true.

I should have learned then
that pulling out all the eyelashes in the world and wishing
and wishing
wouldn't make it true.

There is a big difference from earning something and wanting something.
To earn is to achieve.
To work hard in the endless night
not knowing the end or the way out
but still digging and digging
deeper into that mountain is to reach.
Digging until you have reached a core
a physical core
something you can hold in your hand
something that you can boil down to a science
a liquid
and drink it into your body
and possess.

You can't boil rejection.
Rejection is not a core.
Rejection is a weight.
A weight that ties you to the end of your bed
forcing your eyes open and scared
to stare at the endlessness of that tunnel
that tunnel that you were digging and digging and digging
and you're half way through that mountain
trapped under the cloth of darkness
with no direction
and no going back or forward
just---there
at the edge of that bed and a piece of paper.


There are quiet a few people in the word.
The optimist that sees the glass half full,
The pessimist that sees the glass half empty,
The opportunist that drinks the other half of the glass,
and the realist---who realizes that  a glass is a glass
and water is just water
and rejection is just rejection.


I don't know who I am.

Maybe that is the problem.
Maybe the problem is not the letter
Perhaps it is me.

I don't understand.

I don't understand and I don't understand why I don't want to understand.

What I want to know is that tub of ice cream in the freezer,
I want to know the bed sheets that I will wrap around me like the skin on my back
and the bed that I will drown in  and never emerge from....


This is a crappy poem.
Or essay, or whatever this lament
this dragging on depression is.

I don;t understand it.

I reject it.

It isn't good enough---
I don't understand why I am not good enough.


Of course life goes on.
It always goes on, I just don't know if it iwll be a good one.

after all, this paper of words is only a diction of my future.
My inevitable continuation of my education
and my education is my future
my education is all that I have.


I am afraid.
Deathly afraid  that once I leave school
Once I abandon my textbooks and classes
my teachers and my peers
that I will fade to a background
that I will work 9 to 5
and yes and no a customer
that I will not understand questions when they are asked to me
That I will not know the answer to how much that salad plate is
or what time the next bus is at
That I will not know why I do not know these answers
that an entire generation and education will wash over my skin and leave me dry.

I want to dip my feet
I want to dive in
but I am so scared---
I am so scared to look down and see that the pool is empty.


My pool is empty.



And I don't understand why.

2/17/2014 ---- 2/21/2014 BLOGS

MONDAY

OHMYGOD
Senior showcase. it actually happened. No one died, No one cried (that much), and it all went smooth-ish-ly.

I would go on and on and on, but most of you reading were there PLUS I'm really lazy and all. So ya.
SENIOR SHOWCASE IS DONE!


TUESDAY
I began my first read-through of Hannah's Freshman Showcase play; SURPRISE.

I didn't take any real notes because I want a clean blank read through--- (also because I did so in class and couldn't open it at home).
I started my "lesson plan" for what I am teaching the freshmen. (SO MUCH FUN!)
which I will share to Aladren. it is very messy but is somehow still functional to me---so ya.


WEDNESDAY
I started going over what the freshmen wrote in class--- Its not HORRIBLE----okay, it is pretty horrible---and I feel my favoritism starting to kick in. BUT I CANT LET THAT HAPPEN!

I didn't exactly do much else: so---that makes me a bad teacher I guess.....


THURSDAY

I "went" (and by went I mean drove  around NYC and got stuck in traffic for 3 HOURS) to go see a show that I only saw the last 20 minutes of----BUT IM STILL SAYING IT WAS A THING> because I went with Young Playwrights as an internship thingy---so ya. that's my blog of the day.


FRIDAY
I did another read through of SURPRISE and gave Kimani a voice lesson. I was going to stay after with Nyasia but she kinda stood me up in class---burrrnnn!

I am yet to start note-taking on the drive because I only have a PDF---trying to convert. I will probably do so on sunday.

Birthdays

Sitting in the parking lot of Toys-R-Us has never been so thrilling.

Why am I in the parking lot and not the store, you ask?
Well to be quite honest----I don't know why.
My dad went in an hour ago to get a gift for my nephew and apparently I have "issues" around toys. (LIFE LESSON #1: you are never too old to play with legos in the middle of a Toys-R-Us).

But getting back on topic: my dad went in AN HOUR AGO to get a toy for my nephew. Tomorrow he will be 10. The big 1-0.
And I will officially be old.

I remember holding him in my arms in that white hospital room thinking "Damn----you are one fat son-of-a-bitch. Welcome to the family".

I have had the pleasure of watching him grow, from a chubby little cherub---to a tall lean-mean dinosaur hunting machine. I have seen him learn how to speak, how to walk, and how to fight. I have observed him grow into his own; and now----in only a few hours---my little nephew will begin his double digits.

Tomorrow will be his day, and I'm sure it will be filled with dinosaur themed cake, and ninja fighting pinatas, and all that jazz.

Tomorrow we celebrate his birth.

See---that is something I never understood.

Birthdays.
it's not what it is that confuses me. I mean, come on, it is a literal BIRTH DAY----it's not that hard to comprehend.

What confuses me is this---- why am I celebrating your birth?
Like---what the hell did you do?

Now, I'm not a doctor or anything---but I can almost grantee that you didn't conceive yourself. You didn't think yourself into existence.

No.

Someone had to carry you around for 9 months in their belly, then push you----at the size of a watermelon---through a half-of a fist sized vagina---- and then on top of that---- they had to feed you, clothe you, and so on for the next 18 years or so.

What did you do that was so great?
It was the doctor that pulled you out, cut your chord, made sure you were living----
Your mother literally thrusted you into the world, okay?
9 MONTHS.

That is 273 days with a human being inside of your body.
Feeding off of you.
Taking parts of you---your blood--- and putting it into themselves.
That is messed up.
That's not "a little angel in your stomach"
That is a parasite.


Okay, it is a cute parasite---but it doesn't make a difference. A fetus is is solely dependent on its mother.

So in short: I don't get why we celebrate a baby's birth.
I think we should celebrate those that made your existence possible.


Next time your birthday comes around: I want you to say

"Hey mom. Hey dad. Thank you. For fucking. Because I now exist"

I want you to call up that doctor that helped you enter this world and say:

"Hello Sir and or Mam. 16 years ago you stuck your hand into my mother's vagina and pulled me out---that was really cool of you. Thanks"

I want you to get your mother an ice cream cake
and I want you to profusely love her and hug her because she made you possible.

I know we have mother's day---- but a day really isn't enough.
You can't do a lot in a day---- in 273 days----well, that's a different answer----


Now I don't want to get rid of birthday's all together.

Don't get me wrong: I love birthdays.

I still remember my 4th birthday when I woke up and found a ball-pit in my room--- and I screamed so much and I jumped in and I broke that thing within 3 minutes.

I still remember hearing my parents breathing heavily that night from blowing up each individual ball----
They did that for me.

For my birthday.

I remember they specifically made a pink butter cream barbie cake for me because they couldn't find the shade of pink I liked best at a shoprite store so they spent all afternoon slaving over an oven baking for me.

My parents did so much for me-- for something I didn't even do.

That's why I want to change birthdays....

I want to make birthdays into birthweeks.

Everyone who was a part of the process should get their own day.

Mother's day, Father's Day, Doctor's Day, and your day. Because birth---creation---- isn't a job for one person.

It takes passion, and effort, and love.

And that's what a birthday really is about: love.

Your parents love you enough to bring you into this world--- to stay up all night and blow up tiny little balls for you---- to make you a cake, and invite your snotty little friends over for a party----and buy you some really expensive gift that you will most likely break by the end of the night----


Birthdays are about love--- so let yourself be loved. Just don't forget to love them back. Let your love be known.


Happy Birthday little nephew.

Love,
Hayley Michelle Trachtenberg

"BLOGS" for this week!!!

EEEPPP

I just got the email that there were blogs this week!

So I really didn't plan on that---because well,I thought there were no blogs this week!
BUT I was at rehearsal all week  (and even this Saturday!)


SO I guess those were blogs?

I did work REALLY hard on getting my spoken word done---but I don't really have any physical proof---(except my amazing performance---which I have self dubbed amazing because I don't laugh cry when I say it out loud in front of human beings).


SO please don't give me an F for this blog!

I'm quirky.
I did things.

That's all folks.



-Hayley

Me Still trying to write Spoken Word; this could be the one!

( I could use some help finding a title <3 ALSO: FEEDBACK WOULD BE MUCH APPRECIATED)




I could fall in love with you---
head over heels and into a ditch
fall like I was pushed out of a moving car
and tumble down into the grass
and get green stains on my dress
and I could smile and I could care less
because I would be too busy falling in love with you.
I could fall in love with you if I wanted to.



I just don't want to.



I've seen what happens to girls like me in the movies,
I know the ending---and not all endings are happy-
so let's pause the screen while we're ahead,
and leave it there
frozen in time
a time when I was too young to know what falling was,
a time when you were too beautiful to even talk to--
you must think  I'm silly,
because I'm writing a poem--
I think you're silly because you think this poem is about you
you think this poem is about me pining away my feelings
you think this poem is about how I can't think without you,
that the world can't spin without you,
that I can't live without you.



This isn't your poem.



This is a poem about me,
This is a poem about me and love,
This is a poem about me and movies,
This is a poem about me and falling
and skinning my knees---
Just because I've tripped over you,
doesn't mean that I fell for you.



I could fall for you,
but I have a little more self respect than to put my happiness inside of someone else's hands,
I've been there before at the bottom of that barrel
I felt a boy's hands clasp around my heart
and squeeze the love out of me like a sponge;
like everything inside of me wasn't natural
that it was only meant to be there temporarily
to hold it and release it
pour it out of my soul
onto someone else's hands
and get dry and hard--- and discarded like a kitchen cleaning utensil.



I'm not a sponge,
I am a girl, dammit!



Sometimes at night I think of what it would be like
to let you hold me---
but I know that the night is for dreaming
and that reality is the sun and it's coming soon
I can see it over the horizon

But reality isn't necessarily all that bad
I like who I am when the sun wakes up
and shines it's rosy cheeks in my direction

Who would have guess that in the end, I would actually like myself.
Not me, that's for sure---
Not you, either---



You told me that you found my lack of confidence charming.
You told me that you found my insecurities: interesting,
my innocence alarming, my school girl naivety; impressive.



If this was freshmen year,
I would have fallen for you.
I would have let myself fall out of that car and tumble down that hill
right into the sewer gutter
and I wouldn't have moved because I would hope to think that you would go down there and save me and that we could be happily ever after----



But this isn't freshmen year----
and I know that when I fall down,
I was given hands and legs to help me pick myself up
I'm not a potato
I can do things.


Give me doors to open
Give me roofs to raise,
Give me hands to hold,
Give me hearts to break---

Give me someone who would fall for me----
Cuz I'm done falling.


I've done my share of broken foots, and black medical boots
I've said my lines in the script
Give me a pen and a paper
Let me write my own ending



I don't know if it will be happy
But I know it will be mine.
Tomorrow will be mine.

MY ATTEMPTS AT SPOKEN WORD

So I am freaking out about what to do for the spoken word for senior showcase: so here I go! JUST WRITING!
NO "stopping" (focus on a topic, don't stop unless I get off topic. If I stop then i move on).



TITLE: To Superman, From a Batman Fangirl

Dear Superman,
The day you dawned that cape you took an oath to me and other outsiders to always protect---and you have broken that promise. You have broken that promise, you have turned the velvet red, into one of dark and deep bloodshed. You have thrown away the underwear, you have turned your baby blue into one of navy and sorrow. I have seen you smile on the big screen, and I can see that it's only in the script and not in your skin--- true, you may have the body of a god, but you are not a god. You are a man, you are a SUPERman--- start acting like it.
The day you said you wanted to be a hero, you went out and saved a girl like me. Swept her off her feet, and held her and never let go. Said that you were hero superman, and the she was your krypton. Now, she is just the side character-- the serious and grimm--- prison of zodd. Snooping and drooping into the scenery, bland and banal--- that is not the Lois Lane I know from the pages I grew up with.
I sat and watched you take my childhood in your hands and crush it into dust--- you tell me that the "S" is a symbol of "Hope" on your planet? You don't know your planet, You are not Hopeman, you are superman-- I can't find a single super thing about you. Wherever you go, you leave destruction and mayhem--- I look up to the sky and I don't see a bird, I don't see a plane, I don't see you--- you who is supposed to be a savior-- maybe I'm just nit-picking---but maybe I'm broken beyond repair, Maybe I shouldn't have put my heart in your hands and bought tickets to see your movie with a boy I thought was my superman. Maybe I shouldn't have let him drive me home, Maybe I shouldn't have let his lips touch mine and let him burn inside my throat---maybe I shouldn't have let him put his hand slightly on the edge of my shirt and then under---- I don't believe in superhero's anymore. They don't save people, real people like me. I wanted you to, I sincerely wanted you to lift me up into the stars and tell me that you were going to be there. I guess that's why I like batman, because at least he was honest enough to tell me that I was far beyond saving. That at least he told me that it wasn't real---that superhero's don't exist--that it's just someone in a costume. You are someone in the skin of a superman, and I just want to be saved---- who's coming to save me---- who's coming to save me?



TITLE: THIS IS AN ANGRY POEM.

This is am angry poem. the end rage.


TITLE: I miss you, so fuck off

You text me. You text me saying "I miss my sweater". You text me saying "I miss my sweater" 4 months of nothing and then " I miss my sweater". Followed by " I miss you more". It brakes my heart because 4 months, I have finally moved on and then a text ruins it all.
This is boring--fuck emtions.
Text: Go the fuck away. <3



TITLE: FRANKENSTEIN

Frankenstein.
The man said Frankenstein.
It stuck to my mind like gum---rolled around like a record, and broke my heart like it was made of glass. Frankenstein-----Jewish?
Frankenstein. Fear. Frankenstein. Novel. Frankenstein. Lady.
Frankenstein. Monster.
Monster---
I may have been three or nearly four,
but I remember that note on my door,
written in glitter sticks and I hate" You. Are.A.MONSTER".
I never found them under my bed---
I found them trapped inside my fingertips,
That time I pushed you down the stairs and meant it.
Did you check for me last night?
I wasn't in the closet.
I don't believe in walls, I don't believe in doors.
I believe in pathways and wormholes.
I believe in ghosts, and ghouls, and fairies, and mermaids, and unicorns, and good people, and MONSTERS.

Don't tell me their not real.

Frankenstein is not a myth,
I have seen the skin sowed onto other skin,
beautiful and disturbing lying on that slab
like you laid on the floor at the base of those 32 steps---
you fell like an angel.
Broken and twisted angel,
A fallen angel--- what a lovely metaphor.
You didn't fall though, you were pushed.
Sometimes people need a little push---
that's what you get for provoking a monster.
Didn't people tell you not to feed the animals in the zoo?
I eat people like you for breakfast.
I can take your heart and grind it into a protein shake before lunch,
And I will do it without thinking twice-
I am NOT a victim of circumstance.

The day I stopped caring about the voices in my head,
was the day I discovered that monster are men---
I don't care if you're sleeping on the bed or under it:
Come as you are,
Come to me so I can hold you
and break you
I have been told for the longest time that monsters are bad,
but I don't believe it.
It happens--like nature.
Do you yell at a lion for killing a gazelle?
Or for a cat that eats away at a mouse?
I take you into my paws and I destroy your hopes,
like a storm I will take away everything
leave roller coasters in the ocean
A force to be reckoned with
Please don't try to stop me it will only make me angry
"you wouldn't like me when I'm angry"
I don't want to be angry,
I just want for once to stretch my arms out
across the universe and touch something without it breaking
I want to put my lips against your cheek
and when I pull away, I don't want there to be burn marks.
I don't want to be in the closet anymore---
I don't want to hide in the corner,
no more monsters---
Monster  is a stretch of a name.
 Then again being called "lesbo" or "faggot" isn't much better.
But I'm not a Frankenstein, mark that.
I am not made of other people's thoughts or feelings---
I am made of me,
and so help me god, or whoever is up there
I will be made of me
and no one can put that truth in a bottle.
Call me a monster if you want
Bring your torches to my chamber
Knock down that castle door;
Call me a monster to my face
Start the storm
Poke the animal in the cage
and
hear
me
roar.

January 21st, 2014----January 26th, 2014

More informal blogging! (yayyy)

What I have done with my life this week---

1. GIVE A LOT OF FRESHMEN FEEDBACK
2. drink the tears of my enemies
3. Write crappy spoken word poems
4. Fight with parental unit
5. Reach $800 on Indygogo
6. College Interveiws (the final countdown)





1. YA. FRESHMEN PLAYS. (joy). But ya---- I have been reading a lot of---well----things, I wouldn't necessarily call them plays yet---although there are few jems in the pile, the majority of the scripts are not up to parr. However I can see that they are trying---some more than others. Still, I can't wait to hear all of them read in class.


2. Tears of my enemies are delicious. moving on.


3. I got stuck in a parking lot and wrote a spoken word. See previous blog for more on that.

4. COLLEGE

5. We reached $800 on indygogo!!! (YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY). So proud of (me) and all my other seniors for being able to raise the money to put on the show---now we just need to----put on the show----

6. College interviews!!! DePaul was on Saturday, and that was fun! I think it went very well--I was the first of the day, and hopefully I made their days. But now I'm officially over with the process---and it's just a waiting game---and that scares me. Really--I liked having thinks to do and things to freak out about---it is better than being helpless and waiting for answers.

Fingers Crossed it all comes out well!

It was a short week---so I can't wait for rehearsals on Senior Showcase. I want to get my hands on some paintbrushes and start getting things done!!!

WHEN STRANDED IN A PARKING LOT (an exposition and a poem)

So this is a bit of an informal bog---but I really wanted to share my "interesting" adventure at my first yoga class.


So there is this yoga class (apparently) at my temple that my mom wanted to go to---and for some reason she thought it would be fun to drag me along...because what is better than an out of shape yenta trying to reach zen? that's right: TWO out of shape yentas trying to reach zen! (I love you mom if you are reading this).

SO---long story short---I was dragged into going.

Now if any of you have the *misfortune* to know me---I don't "zen". I can barley touch my toes----not because I'm out of shape ( round is a shape, just to be clear)---it is because I have a big head, and little arms. I am a human T-rex. Very scary, Very "top-dog". VERY TINY ARMS.

So as you can imagine, yoga really isn't my thing. Yoga is about being peaceful, being accepting, being able to stretch and explore your body---- all these things are FAR out of my element.

However once I arrived, a sudden rush of---dare I say it---happiness--- consumed me. The room smelled of burnt knishes, and sounded of running streams from the amazon. Of course there were only three other women----lets be honest now---- Jewish women aren't really into the whole "zen and exercise" thing. If it doesn't involve free bagels, or a viewing of a Barbra Streisand  movie---we normally don't attend. However, there is a certain appeal to yoga. For example :"I heard Jennifer Larwance does this, so it must be good!"


Of course, I would forget to bring a yoga mat----and of course I would forget to even wear yoga pants: so here I am, with a beach towel in my batman and plaid pajama pants---ready to "yoga".

Yoga is enlightening. For example, tonight I was enlightened on exactly how weak I truly am. Like superman who was wearing a suit made of Kryptonite--- I could not hold plank for the life of me. Weather it was Warrior 1----7---394--- My knees would lock and buckle under me, my balance would be askew, and my mind would be wandering around the room checking to see if everyone else as failing just as badly as I was.

Needless to say, I was not very good at it. I did enjoy myself though. I enjoyed being a part of something, i enjoyed trying and failing. The greatest things in life are learned from failures. Now I know where I am mentally and physically---and once you've hit bottom you can only go up!

So I left yoga with an open mind, and shaky knees.

Getting in the car with my mother---we discussed what to do after yoga. What do we do after a spiritual and physical mind-altering experience? Pizza. Fat and delicious--- cheesy pizza. (obviously).


However, fate had something much crueler planned in store for us.


A flat tire.

Out of all things---the plague, a tsunami----no, Fate gave us a flat tire. And to add insult to injury, no WiFi at that. No way to call for help. Barley any heat from the car-- I mean, who needs warmth, when outside is just so peachy?!?! (*eye twitch**eye twitch*).

SO needless to say: both of us were quite agitated. My mother resulted into getting out of the car and searching for WiFi to call AAA---while I took to a more rational route---and began to write a poem.
And here is the fruit of my labor----  (and no, I was indeed rescued from my parking lot isolation. I am home now and warm-ish. Now on with the blog!!!)


"When stranded in the temple parking lot with a flat tire and no-WiFi: think of Florida and me."

When you are stranded in the temple parking lot with a flat tire and no-WiFi

--a few things come to mind.

 First of all---dear lord: why. 

What did I do to deserve this punishment---

In a car so frozen, you could have sworn you heard the engine singing "let it go". 

You think to yourself---- dear lord, I'm going to die here---

Sitting in your yoga pants clinging to your seat belt for what little warmth you can find.

 You think about warm things:

 Florida.

 Your mother. 

The beach.

 Florida.

 The amazon.

 The boy next door with eyes like the sun that if you look into them you start to burn deep down inside your heart deep down beneath your thighs---

Florida.
You think of Florida a lot.

You think of him on the beach in Florida with the ocean sprinkled on his skin like crystal pyramids---

You realize you stole this analogy from a play---

You realize you have stolen your life from a play---

You've read this part before.

Boy meets girl-

Girl falls for boy---

Boy falls for a slut---

Girl gets broken--

Girl goes to yoga---

Girl gets a flat tire---

Girl is stranded in the temple parking lot with no WiFi and a wandering mind---and a broken heart---and thoughts of Florida and you.
Sometimes I think to myself: just knowing you is to love you

Amy Whinehouse and chocolate Jesus all in one

 but then I think to myself---

To know me is to know what it feels like to have your face dragged in the mud across town,

Justin Beiber, diabetes---

Maybe it's cold or maybe it's my cold heart---

I'm a bit jaded and jealous of everyone---

Sometimes I want to be with you, sometimes I want to be you--

A part if you: 

I want to be your left kidney--- 

I want to be the white blood cell in your left ventricle:

 I want to protect you.

 I'm not strong---

I can't even fix a flat tire--- 

But if I was a roof I would hold myself up day and night to cover you In my love: 

Shelter you from the storm: watch over you among the stars---

Oh, the stars are so lucky to be able to see you sleep every night. 

Now, I look at the stars, as I hear the AAA truck pull up beside me and ask myself out loud: 

When you look at the stars do you see Aquarius? 

Or do you see my smile?
If you ever have the misfortune to be stranded in a temple parking lot with a flat tire and no WiFi----

Don't think of the coldness outside. 

Don't think about how long it will take for someone to come and help---

Don't think about how late it is.

 Think of Florida and me. 

And we will keep you warm for the rest of the night.

 I promise