Of Men and Mud

Wow . . . well, ya know, perhaps I should just hold a weekly Best Commenter contest . . . ‘cause that seemed to get me a heck of a lot of comments . . . So comment the most on this post, and maybe (just maybe), I’ll put some sort of award on here like Rae did! So hurry up and get those comments in, before it’s too late!!

Anyway, I apologize for the relative lateness of this post . . . the weekend was an extremely busy and extremely tiring one, so I didn’t get around to updating. But here I am now, so . . . yay.

Monday and Tuesday were pretty normal days, if memory serves . . . nothing out of the ordinary, just lots of Hobbes (who, by the way, is not nearly as interesting as Locke).

Tuesday NIGHT was a bit special, though. You see, my step-cousin just got engaged, and she was having her engagement party on Friday night. Naturally, my uncle and aunt were invited to the party, so they flew in from Indiana to attend. They were staying at our home, so we waited until they arrived (11:00 or so, not terribly late), then talked briefly with them, until Uncle Ted said, “Well, you guys need to sleep, so we’ll let you go to bed.” So we took advantage of his kindness and retired.

Wednesday was a different matter altogether. David called me at some point during the afternoon and proposed that we hang out, to which I agreed. He stopped by around 4:30 or so (possibly a little later), and off we went.

We (read “he, with my agreement”) decided that the thing to do would be to display our complete lack of lives and go harass people at Broadway Expressions. They were holding auditions (for their “Team Broadway” class, I think) at the time, but we quietly snuck in and stood there for a moment, watching someone sing “Tomorrow” from Annie.

As we stood there thus transfixed, a vaguely purple blur shot across the room directly towards us. It turned out, in the end, to be Megan, who was apparently not doing anything at the time. We therefore retreated into one of the various side-rooms (I have no idea how many there are, but they seem to pop up all the time when I’m there) and hung out therein for quite a while, occasionally being accosted by two little ones who seemed to crave our attention (and, in the case of the boy, aggression).

After a while of just sitting (and standing) there talking, David looked at his watch and had a horrible realization: “Crap,” he said. “I have a meeting for the mudbowl at Chipotlé in about five minutes.” This naturally meant that I would be tagging along, since he didn’t have time to take me home. Megan also wanted to come, having nothing to do, and so about three (or maybe it was more like 5 or 6) minutes later, we three departed Broadway Expressions and booked it to Chipotlé.

Upon arrival, there was a surprising lack of Trinity people, who should’ve been there a good 10-15 minutes already at that point. Confused by this, David whipped out his cell phone and called someone (Monet, I believe). He discovered, to his horror, that the meeting had been relocated to the University of Redlands Chapel without his knowledge.

He shepherded Megan and me back into his car and drove over to this location, getting out of the car and running full speed into the chapel. Megan and I took our time, since we didn’t have to go to the meeting, and ended up in the actual sanctuary part of the chapel.

On the way over (first to Chipotlé, and also to the chapel), Megan and David had been insisting that I attend the mudbowl myself. I protested that I was unable, because Seth was coming over on Saturday (because it was either my house or a country western concert). They kept insisting, saying that I could just drag him along with me.

Anyway, Megan and I entered the sanctuary-place, and a fairly large black man who strangely resembled the Monet that David had called earlier approached us. He recognized Megan, and asked her (somewhat more tactfully) what the heck she was doing there, since it was the college group that night, and not the high school one. She explained the situation, and although he still seemed to retain his confusion, he was very kind and told us we were welcome to wait in the sanctuary-place if we so desired.

His gaze then moved up a bit and back a bit, coming to rest upon me. “Have we met?” he said. “No,” I replied. He extended his hand and introduced himself, and I did the same. I think I said something about having been to Trinity several times, at which point he (like a born salesmen) ripped something brown off of his arm and handed it to me.

“Really?” he said. “Well, just so you know, this Saturday, September 16th, from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM, we’re having our annual mudbowl. We’d love to see you there, and you’re more than welcome to come. It’s absolutely free, and you can sign up at the website on the inside of this bracelet. You can keep it, it’s yours. I hope to see you there!”

I did my best to keep from laughing (which I think was pretty good), thanked him, and took the bracelet. Megan saw Nathaneal a ways away, and went to greet him. I sat down in the chair and whipped out my iPod, figuring that I had nothing better to do.

I spent the next two or three minutes untangling the cord for my headphones, and when I finally emerged from this trial triumphantly, Megan returned and said, “I’m gonna go practice vocals in one of the practice rooms. Wanna come?” I agreed, and somewhat sadly rolled the headphones up again and put them back in my pocket.

We wandered around for maybe ten minutes or so, looking for an empty room for her to practice in. Eventually we found one, but it was a very small room, ¾ of which was occupied by a piano. We entered it, and she sat down at the piano. She played a few random things, and tried (futilely) to get me to do the same.

We sat there and hung out for a while, until David called to find out where we were. He seemed (from what I could hear . . . he called Megan, not me) unduly upset that we weren’t in the sanctuary-place, and a little bit freaked out. Which was somewhat ironic, because as we were leaving the sanctuary-place to find a practice room, Megan had said to me, “Will David freak out if we’re not there when he comes out?” My response had been, “Probably.” Yay for being right.

Anyway, Praxis (Trinity’s college group) was starting at about that time, so David went in to join them, and Megan and I hurried up to the balcony place to spy on them. I’m not exactly sure why, but we did, and we stayed there for a while until Megan’s mother came and took her away.

I returned all by my lonesome little self, and remained there for a few minutes until David came out and asked me if I needed a ride home, which I did. So he took me home, and that was that.

Later that night, I got on AIM (because, as you all know, I have nothing else to do), and Megan and Seth were both on. Megan, it turned out, was in the process of convincing Seth that he desperately wanted to go to the mudbowl on Saturday, and that it would be idiocy to suggest that I not go.

I laughed, and signed up online (with Seth) to go.

The next day was also ordinary, for the most part. Then evening came. What was happening on Thursday evening, you ask? Auditions for Scrooge, says I. There was a remarkably small group of people auditioning, but I knew quite a few of them (Rachel was among them *rejoice rejoice*).

The audition itself was easily the worst audition I’ve ever had . . . even worse than Oliver. I’d never heard the accompaniment of my song, so I missed the starting note and just couldn’t find the melody. Mercifully, all of the people on the panel are people who’ve worked with me before and know that I can usually carry a tune.

After auditions, Mom, Dad, Uncle Ted, and I met Bev and Erin at Pat & Oscar’s for dinner, which is always nice. We spent a few hours there, talking and laughing and eating. On the way home, I called David to ask if he could give me a ride to dance the next day, and he spoke to me, Bev, and Uncle Ted, which made for a very interesting conversation.

Friday, as I recall, was fairly uneventful, save for a call from Jeff asking me to attend a dance audition on Saturday morning at 10 for Scrooge. I said that was fine, and did so.

It went much better than the singing audition, actually . . . and there were only four guys there (counting me), so I’m fairly sure I got in . . . which is cool.

Rachel was sad at the audition, because she had nothing to do all day except homework, so I invited her to come with Seth and I to the mudbowl. She agreed, said it sounded like fun, and told me to call her before we picked her up.

Seth was fairly late getting to my house, so we got a late start, but we DID make to Trinity eventually. We got there right when they were finishing up the organized games. The three of us stood about awkwardly for a minute or two, then saw David and started calling to him. Everyone was inexplicably deaf there, but we did get his attention eventually. He waved to us and went back to what he was doing.

A minute or two later, however, it became apparent that the game wasn’t going to start for another minute or two, so he turned slowly towards us, flung his arms wide, and came barreling towards us with a shout of, “HI, GUYS!!!”

Rachel and Seth, being the chickens they are, of course stepped promptly behind me, leaving me to be attacked by David’s muddiness. I took it like a man, standing there with my legs wide (so as not to be knocked over), and embraced him as he embraced me. In the end, I really didn’t even get all that muddy, just wet.

But then he had to get back to the game, so after hugging me as messily as he could, he ran back over to the actual mud bowl.

After the game was over, Rachel’s friend Adam came over to us, and the two of them went and jumped into the mud (Seth and I were going to wait until after we ate, since we’d just have to shower off and then most likely get dirty again). Rachel got miserably covered in mud.

Moments later, a greenish blur went flying into Rachel, who grabbed it tightly and sort of spun around with it. As I’ve discovered blurs do fairly often, it resolved into Megan. Rachel and Megan exchanged a few words, and then looked in our direction.

“Crap,” I said. Turning to Seth, I added, “You might want to run.” He did. I turned back to find that my suspicions had been confirmed. Megan was a greenish blur again, hurtling full-speed towards me, shouting, “HI, MARK!!!”

She attacked me in much the same way David did, although she managed to get me a bit muddier than he had. Seconds after this initial onslaught, I was hit from behind by Rachel. If this seems hard for you to picture, don’t worry, you’re not alone. Even the great Rae said later that she was having trouble picturing “a muddy Mark sandwich.”

So anyway, by this time I was already soaked in mud, and Rachel and Megan were pulling me towards the bowl. Since I was already muddy, I figured what the heck and went in and sat down. David chased after Seth, but gave up after a while and I had to go get him. The six of us (me, Seth, Rachel, Megan, David, and Adam) hung out in the mud for a while, and then were called to assemble with the rest of the group over by the food (which was a truck of In’N’Out).

After washing off a bit, and talking to Kyle a bit, and getting our food a bit, and walking over to where everyone I knew was a bit, I sat down to eat, while Monet (who had happily noted my presence earlier) gave away free shirts and stuff to people whose names were pulled out of a box. After this, Dr. Langer gave a short little sermon thingy, which was really cool (I’ve always wanted to hear him speak).

Once that was done, we just kind of hung out with people for a while, and then went home.

After showering and such, things were arranged so that AJ, Rae, and Eleanor would pop up down in Redlands, pick Seth and I up, and go see Arsenic and Old Lace in Rialto, since they were giving free tickets to friends of cast members.

And so they did. We ate pizza, and then headed off to Rialto. On the way up, we had a long conversation about the State of Nature (as presented by Locke) and other such political things. We were also accosted by a homeless lady, who had been off drugs for seventeen years. Or, wait, no, seventeen months, she meant. (Or, wait, seventeen days . . . seventeen hours . . . seventeen seconds . . .)

There were quite a few people that I knew there . . . Katrina and Brandon were there, Megan and Andrea were there, the Lopezes were there, Dr. and Mrs. Wines (the older), and Lucas and Mark (not me).

The show was really good again . . . although David hit himself in the face with a suitcase, causing him to black out for a few seconds and resulting in bleeding . . . which is always fun . . .

But yeah, the show had evolved a fair amount and was much funnier than it was the first time (despite how good it was the first time).

After the show, we went outside and greeted David, and hung around talking to him for a while . . . he offered us the wonderful advice that “if life gives you lemonade, make lemons.”

We then went home, and hung out with AJ, Rae, and Eleanor for a while. After a number of angry (AJ was angry, at least) phone calls regarding a certain towed car, they departed back to Fullerton, and Seth and I started getting ready for bed.

The next morning was church as usual, except that David and Megan came (and left), which was cool.

After church, Sarah and I went over to Seth’s house and hung out with him (and Indy after a while).

And that was basically Sunday. Nice ’n’ simple to chronicle.

The remainder of the time since then has also been fairly uneventful, although fencing has been moved to Tuesdays and Wednesdays now instead of Tuesdays and Fridays (and may very well become Mondays and Tuesdays soon, apparently).

And so I shall shuttle off of this cyberspace coil once again, in the hopes that you have enjoyed this and look forward to many more to come. And don’t forget . . . the best commenter might get a reward of some kind in the next post!!

Comments:

AJ 1-2: Well, see, I couldn’t remember whether “baptize” was spelled “baptize” or “baptise.” So I figured I’d go with one of each and be safe. And my apologies about quandaries . . . I’ve never seen it used before, only heard it from Wayne (and Sarah imitating Wayne).

David 1-5: Um . . . yes. To everything you said.

Rae 1-7: Okay, well, obviously, you and I both went to Arsenic with AJ and Eleanor, so . . . yay! And yes, all of the headings last time were actual quotes from those situations (the first by Sarah, the second by me, the third by David, and the final by the two pastors).

David 6: I would argue that the reason you have a larger vocabulary than mine is due to 1) your greater education, and 2) simply the fact that you’re smarter than me. Because, you see, if I actually looked up the word, I would get the same result (knowledge of the definition) than if you just answered me when I asked you. So you could actually save me a lot of trouble by bestowing your wisdom upon me, the lesser mortal, while still allowing me to expand my vocabulary.

Quips, Quotes, and Quandries (or not)

Yo yo yo, peoples. Well, it’s that time of the week again . . . time to update. So, even though I’m a bit tired and a bit . . . hm . . . contemplative, for lack of a better term, I am here, faithfully updating my blog for you to read. Since I’m sure you all look forward to it every week, just counting the hours until Sunday comes and my blog is, once again, new and fresh.

So today we’re going to divide things up in general events again, but we’re going to do it slightly differently. Instead of giving events numbers and clever titles, I’m going to characterize everything by a quote that was said by someone in regards to it. There are also fewer than usual, so y’all can rejoice that you might actually have a little extra free time this week that normally would’ve been spent reading my blog (although you never really know).

”I’m confuzzled!”
On Monday, since it was Labor Day, I had no school. Which was cool, making it the last day of my summer vacation. Also since it was Labor Day, Mother decided that we should have the Christisons over for dinner.

And so we did. Although David and Dr. Mrs. both had migraines, so they couldn’t come, which was very sad. But Sarah, John, and Dr. Mr. all came over. We sat around in the family room talking for a while, then Sarah, John and I went to play video games while the adults remained there. We played quite a few games . . . we had a pretty even split of victories and losses, too (partially due to the fact that Sarah was barely functioning, so I could actually beat her).

Then came dinner itself. ‘Twas good, it was Pat & Oscar’s chicken, breadsticks, and salad, and two of mom’s pies. We talked about many things . . . football, for one. That was cool . . . John knows so much about football that it scares me. But he picked the Broncos to go to the Super Bowl this year, so yay.

After dinner, Sarah, John and I retreated back into the office, where Sarah determined to get me un-stuck in Tales of Symphonia (I’d been stuck for . . . gosh, I dunno, maybe a year or so). She did get me unstuck, although it took longer than she’d anticipated. We progressed in it fairly rapidly (to everyone’s surprise, since neither Sarah or I had played it in ages, and I’m not sure how long it had been since John played), and were going steadily and strongly until we hit the third boss after where we’d started. This guy totally creamed us, easily, three or four times. It was depressing. Then Dr. Mr. came in and summoned his children to leave (though not before I’d given Sarah her wonderful little Spider-Man quarter-machine thingy).

“I’m confuzzled” comes from while we were playing ToS, because since Sarah hadn’t played it in ages she didn’t remember a whole lot, and so every five seconds or so she’d say some variation of “I’m confused.” It sort of became the theme phrase of the evening . . .

”I’m tired . . .”
On Tuesday, school started. *ominous music* Initial impressions:
Geometry: Math. Sucks.
Chemistry: Math. Sucks. But hopefully it’ll improve as it goes along . . .
Vocabulary: Meh, same as always. Not too bad, not too great.
French: See above.

And Torrey we have to take a bit longer with.

First off, Second Treatise of Government by John Locke is freakin’ amazing. I love it. Everybody is always talking about this book as the dreaded Locke reading, the first reading of FAT (Foundations of American Thought), the beginning of the toughest year of TA (Torrey Academy). So I went into it somewhat apprehensively. But I got half-way through the first page, stopped, and said, “This rocks. I’m gonna love this.”

Of course, being written in 1690, it’s just fun to read because of the kind of language he uses. It makes me realize how rich the English language really is, and how little of it we really use. Not to mention that his logical progression is amazing. The whole book is basically one big syllogism, which makes it quite easy to follow for something of that sort. He starts way back with Adam, and progresses through what he believes to be political and legal history. I don’t agree with everything he says, but it’s still amazing.

On Tuesday we also had orientation. This basically means logging onto Breeze (the program we use for class) and having our tutor (Mr. Selby) brief us on how things are going to work. The class seems really cool, I think I’m going to like most of the people, and it’ll be a fun group to work with. Mr. Selby seems cool, although he seems a bit more serious and strict than Mr. Arcadi was. Which is depressing because I tend to be a bit . . . well, not-serious. Like, after my first impression, I doubt I’ll feel comfortable at any point during the year telling Mr. Selby to “get a real girlfriend,” which I did Mr. Arcadi (and no, it wasn’t mean in context . . . actually, it was the comment of mine that got the biggest response from my other classmates all year). He’s also imposing a dress code . . . for an online class . . . which is very nearly cruel and unusual punishment . . . he said something about it “getting us into a serious frame of mind,” but it’s still depressing. Not so much for me as for the sake of the people who wore pajamas all year last year, but still.

So yes, that was basically school for this year . . . Précis are still evil incarnate, all that jazz. Where “I’m tired” came from should be fairly obvious, I think . . . going from summer to school.

”HOO-AH.”
So on Friday, David came to pick me up for dance as always. We went to Didi’s, as always, and had dance, as always. Nothing out of the ordinary, everything perfectly normal.

We start going home, everything normal, nothing wrong at all. And then, at a red light, David’s battery just completely dies. This isn’t terribly strange, it’s happened before. All he has to do is get out and tighten the cable, right? . . . Right?

Wrong. He went out and tightened it, and that got the electric system back online so he could put the hazard lights on. He spent the next five to ten minutes desperately trying to get it hooked up so he could start the engine. He failed.

So he comes back, opens the door, and says, “alright guys, teamwork time. Sarah, I’m gonna need you to steer. Mark, you and me will get out and push so we can get it out of the middle of the street and onto the side.”

So we did. Sarah was protesting, because she had only read about how to steer and such, and had never actually done it. We did, however, successfully get the car around the corner and onto the cross-street at the side.

We then determined to push it up to the MPH sign, which was about 30-50 feet up from where we were. I say “up” because we realized once we started that we were pushing the car uphill.

The car, by the way, is actually a minivan. With tons of stuff in it. And Sarah in it, too. So we were heaving and shoving for a good half an hour or so to get it up the hill, but finally we succeeded. We then took a break in the shade under a tree while David called first his mother (to ask for help) and then Carly and Katrina (to complain).

Eventually it was decided that Sarah and I would walk back to my house (we were fairly close), and then David would swing by and pick Sarah up when he got the car working again. We were maybe halfway back when Dr. Mrs. swung by and picked us up, giving me a lift the rest of the way.

Maybe half an hour later, I got a call from David and Sarah, noting that it would’ve been a HECK of a lot easier had we put the car in neutral, rather than left it in drive. We all slapped ourselves at our idiocy, then commented on what a great workout David and I had had.

So yes . . . not-so-fun times, although it’s all amusing (to me, anyway) in retrospect.

”In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
That probably surprises a few of you, being something more commonly seen on AJ’s blog than mine, since I tend to keep mine as light and happy-happy as possible and try to avoid going into anything even moderately serious.

This, however, was definitely worth mentioning. Earlier tonight, I went to Trinity’s Fall Reunion (whatever that is . . . I was there, and I’m not entirely sure), where they baptized a rather large group of people that included Zach, Megan, and Taylor (and was supposed to include David, but didn’t in the end because of a number of things).

It was really cool. Everyone being baptized gave their testimony before being baptized . . . lots of tears and such, as always. It was really cool, though . . . I dunno, what else can I say? My family is now bigger :-D

So yeah, that’s basically it for this week. So go get some sleep with the time you’d usually spend reading the other five pages of stuff I’d written here.

Comments:
AJ: Ah, Twilight Zone, of course. Yeah, I thought you’d like the kayak thing. As for the train metaphor, it's true that the train didn't get hit, and it's not overly inspirational for the reader or the train. The metaphor, however, was referring to the penny, which got hit and managed to turn an entire train, something easily a thousand times its size. If you ask me, that's darned inspiring.

Rae: Heh, yes, “Pyaaaaanamaaa” wasn’t really expected to be gotten by anyone but David . . . I love it, too. And I think I’ll let David give you the info on it . . . if everything works out (such as, like, my parents okaying it), I’m probably going to try to go again next Sunday, if you’d be interested in seeing it with me and whatever Lifehouse folks I can get together . . .

I'm ALIVE!!!

Well . . . it HAS been a while, hasn’t it? I just figured that my readers needed a few more weeks to comment, to find time to read my post . . . I know how difficult it can be to find time out of your busy lives to read my humble (but long) posts. But, alas, no one else commented! *sniff sniff*

But anyway . . . lots of stuff to talk about. First, I have to talk about what happened on Wednesday, August 9th, the day after my last post. You may recall my mention of Romeo and Juliet in that post . . . both my going the week before and that I was going again. And so I did.

This second time was a different cast, starring Michael and Megan as R and J. No offense meant to the previous cast, but I liked this one a lot better. I thought most of the leads were better, and of course all of the people who had been in the first cast were more comfortable with their roles (allowing them to act drunk more effectively).

It was also more enjoyable, because it was almost (as David put it) a tragicomedy, especially in the “wherefore art thou” scene. At one point Megan sacrificed believability for comedy, when the Nurse kept calling her in, and she walked back to the door and yelled, “Will you shut up?!” This was a bit jarring after hearing words like “wherefore,” but hey, it was funny.

And also, no mention of this play would be complete without a note about the brilliant performance turned in by Brandon as the apothecary. This is a fairly small, lackluster part, one that requires skill to make remarkable. This skill is what Brandon brought to the part, playing the entire scene as a Jack Sparrow impression, which made it the most fun scene in the play.

Best of all, the gunshot actually sounded a little bit like a gunshot, unlike the wimpy little pop that had come the previous week. Which made Megan’s death a bit more emotionally effective than Katrina’s had been.

This was also the second of three weeks of MTC (Musical Theater Camp) at Lifehouse. What this meant was that I spent all day on weekdays chasing around young children who found it necessary to deliberately drive me crazy. Well let me put this question to you older, more mature folks . . . is the idea, “don’t talk” really all that difficult to grasp?

Of course, young kids will be young kids . . . and so frustrating as it was, I forgave them (most of them, anyway). The REALLY aggravating part of it was the fact that I was the only male counselor out of 8 counselors. Which meant, of course, that when the 19 boys needed to get into costume, I was the only authority figure allowed in the dressing room. And for some reason, most of these 19 boys found the idea of whipping one another with shirts, hats, belts, pants, or really pretty much anything simply enthralling.

And, of course, the 7 girls couldn’t let me get away with being the only boy. So not only did I have to deal with 19 screaming, violent boys all by myself, I also had to deal with 7 teasing, cruel girls all by myself.
But on Wednesday, August 16th, these girls (and Didi) invited me to join them (and Adam, one of the counselors from the morning camp) in going to see Step Up, the Disney teen romance movie about dance. I went into expecting crap, but I actually enjoyed it quite a bit. It wasn’t a great movie, but the acting was pretty good, the dancing was pretty good, and it was pretty funny.

It also took a dark turn towards the end, allowing it to deal with fun issues like doing the best with the (crappy) cards you’re dealt in life.

You can read more about the way I reacted to the movie on my xanga. (As of now, Sunday September 3rd 2006, it’s the second entry.)

And then I think the next things of note are the camp shows . . . well I suppose I should first mention the morning camp’s dress rehearsal. Dimyana asked me to do the morning show so that she, “Bethanne, and Tina will all have partners.” Of course, it just wouldn’t be right to refuse such a high calling, so I agreed. Unfortunately, what this meant was that I had to be present at the morning dress rehearsal, meaning that I actually had to (*gasp*) get up on Thursday morning.

So I did . . . it was painful, but I did it. It really took me back . . . I almost grabbed my Driver’s Ed book and pen on the way out. Thankfully, I didn’t, because luckily, I wasn’t going to Driver’s Ed.

Unluckily, I was going to a place where I knew I’d have to deal with 39 screaming kids. 19 of whom were boys, inhabiting the boys’ dressing room. It wasn’t that bad, though, because Nick and Adam were also there and they were older.

But anyway, I was introduced to the kids formally and then somewhat less formally introduced to Lunden and Christopher, the two youngest boys and my official projects for the camp. Unfortunately, I had a rather bad first impression of Lunden . . . nearly immediately after I met him, he came through the side door of the theater yelling, “Sandy! Sandy! I dropped my hat in the toilet!!”

In the end, it turned out that he actually dropped his hat into the toilet BEFORE he flushed the toilet, as well . . . so Sandy was in a pretty darn bad mood for a few hours after that. And believe me . . . much as I love Sandy, when she’s mad, stay out of her way. Period.

Anyway, after that Lunden did very well. He knew his lines, knew when to say them, and just needed a little help knowing where to go in the dances (and praise the Lord that Amy knew, because I sure didn’t).

Christopher was another story. I could tell immediately that he was a trouble child. He had a bit of a problem sitting still, and he didn’t know when to say his lines (although he did know them). He wasn’t a bad child, he just needed some help paying attention. Thankfully, Nick was helping me take care of him.

The afternoon dress rehearsal went fine, as well, nothing of note to report.

Then came the morning show. It turned out that (horror of horrors) Nick was at Disneyland, so he couldn’t make it to the show. Which meant that I had Christopher and Lunden all by myself.

This was a problem, because I really didn’t know where Christopher was supposed to be. I knew Lunden’s stuff for the most part, but it’s hard to learn three parts in one day . . . since I didn’t know Christopher’s stuff of his part, I didn’t prompt him. Amy was supposed to anyway, but I didn’t know that and neither one of us could get Christopher to follow us anyway.

As a result, he got horrendously mad at me. “I’m not talking to you. I hate you. I lost my line because you didn’t prompt me. I’m NOT doing this again.” To which I almost tersely replied, “well, if you’d been in the right spot, or had actually listened to Amy or me, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” Thankfully, I stopped myself. As it was, all I said was, “well, you weren’t in your spot . . .” and left it at that.

The second show was all better, and it was all good. The winner of the ticket-selling contest also had the best answer I’ve ever heard to Wayne’s question (“Is there a secret to your success?”): “Yeah . . . a great mom.”

And, best of all, after the second show, when all the kids had gone home, Didi FED us. That’s right. World-famous Didi bread and world-famous Didi Potato Salad. It was really, really good . . . especially after a hard day’s dealing with Christopher.

The afternoon show also went well . . . There was a problem with the sound effects people (my group of royals-turned-pirates backstage), but it was quickly and completely worked out. Yay windmaker.

After both shows came the wonderfully entertaining task of cleaning up. I was given the job of striking the set, along with several other people. At first, I reveled in it, seeing all safety pins and ripping them out with unrivalled passion and fervor. Then, however, I encountered the horrible truth of how the mystery banner had stayed up: staples. Horror of freakin’ horrors. I rushed to get a screwdriver to rip them out of their home in the styrofoam rocks. I retrieved a screwdriver from the random-but-useful box in the rehearsal hall and proceeded to brutally slaughter them. It was not pretty.

As I was joyfully ripping down the banner, something terrible caught my ear: the tortured scream of a damsel in distress. Something to the general effect of: “Dang, I can’t reach the top of the netting from here . . .” It was Dimyana, trying to take the rigging off of the treehouse. She tried going up the back ladder, but she was too afraid. So I heroically stepped in and climbed the ladder into my old house, memories of last summer cascading through my mind like a kayak down a snowy mountain. Screwdriver in hand, I banished all thoughts of chucking it through the window/door at Dimyana (the temptation was great, but the danger was even greater) and took it mercilessly to the staples in the wall holding up the netting. Amy attacked it similarly from the other side and we had it down in no time, to the glorious sound of thunderous cheering (Dimyana going “yaaay!!”).

And, approximately 42 boxes, 35 bags, 54 baskets, and 17 random items later, I climbed into Dad’s car and went home.

In the weeks that followed, I found myself doing a lot of crashing (despite my recent training in Driver’s Ed) and even more vegging (despite my preference of meat). Also quite a bit of loafing around (despite my aversion to getting dressed up unless a coat is involved).

All in all, exciting times. The next interesting thing happened . . . I guess it was two weekends ago? Or was it one? I can’t remember . . . I actually feel that there was something else first, but I can’t remember . . .

In any case, one Friday night my parents were going to Brian’s Big Birthday Bash in Beaumont (Wayne has taught me well), so I had nothing to do and no one at home that night. I happened to glance at an orange piece of paper on my floor a few days earlier while contemplating what to do, and I noticed something very important. The sentence was run-on and horrendously awkward. But soon I got over it and looked at the orange paper, and happened to notice that Friday was none other than opening night for Arsenic and Old Lace at Rialto Community Players, starring (sort of) none other than our very own David Y. *last name deleted for privacy purposes* as Dr. Herman Einstein.

“Hey!” I said, hit with inspiration like a train hitting a penny on the rail at 95 MPH and flying off the side of a cliff and exploding, killing all aboard. “I could get the gang together and go see it!”

I suggested this to David (or maybe he suggested it to me . . . I can’t remember), and we agreed it was a good idea. So I began by calling Rachel, who said that she was going to a going-away party for “Charlie.”

Next on my list was Moe. She was getting over a cold, and it showed in her voice. “I have plans,” she croaked.

I called Seth next. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang rang. Then it clicked and I heard a familiar voice saying, “You have reached the Martins! Leave a message and—“ and I hung up, forlorn.

There were several other people on my list, but one by one they were all eliminated with similar problems or just the impossibility of coming before I even called them (such as Preston having a show the same night).

It was thus in a state of complete despair, frustration and pessimism that I reached the final name on my list. Looking cruelly at the (imaginary) list, I saw the name “Megan.” I punched the send button on my phone. It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.

And then, suddenly, apparently out of nowhere, an extremely cheerful and shockingly loud voice cried out, “HI!! You’ve reached Megan!!! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!!” After the initial moment of excitement (because “HI!!” would not be a terribly strange way for Megan to actually answer her phone), I slumped again and muttered a message about going to David’s play and call me back.

After this I sent a text message indicated my complete and utter failure to David. He responded, suggesting that since there were still forty-five minutes until 3:30 (when Megan started dance), I should bombard Megan with calls until she either picked up or it reached 3:30.

I called her roughly 7 times, all with the same result, and gave up, snarling.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and then at around 8:00 I thought to myself, “Y’know, it’s 8:00. Megan’s had plenty of time to call me back.” So I called her again. “Hi Mark,” said a slightly less exuberant voice. “Can I call you back in like two minutes?” At this point I actually laughed out loud, more out of frustration than mirth, simply because everything seemed to be going so positively miserably that day. “Sure,” I said, and hung up.

Seven minutes later (yes, I was bored enough that I actually counted the minutes to see how close she was to two), my phone rang again.

Me: “Okay, so I called you like seven times earlier, did you notice?”
Megan: “Yeah . . . it was during dance class, and my phone kept going off . . .”

There was more, but that’s sufficient for the purposes of this blog. So naturally I felt pretty darn bad about that . . . but not half as bad as I did (being the fallen man I am) after this next comment:

Megan: “Yeah . . . it’s more likely I won’t be able to make it than that I will be. What time is it? I’m assuming it’s around seven . . .”
Me: “The show’s at 8, yeah . . .”
Megan: “Okay, yeah, I won’t be able to come . . .”

At this point I very nearly just melted into the floor. Even though none of you will have any idea what this means, I felt like Dustin in Gaston after Jeff and Jen dropped . . . sliding slowly to the floor and spreading my limbs as if to say, “take me now, Lord!”

So yes . . . that was a wonderfully frustrating day. And to top it all off, the next day the RCP phones were all messed up, so I couldn’t even reserve a ticket for myself and had to buy one at the door.

Oy . . . the only thing that went right out of the whole fiasco was that the Christisons were going (separate from me) and were willing to give me a ride.

The show itself was very good . . . everyone (except the poor minister, bless his soul) was very good . . . David of course was great, and the guy who played Jonathon (another Lifehouse guy) was very twitchy, which made me happy.

And of course it would take a lot of bad acting to make Arsenic and Old Lace unenjoyable, And . . . really, it’s been a few weeks, and I can’t remember most of what I wanted to say about it . . .

But what I DO remember is that community theaters don’t, contrary to popular belief, have money coming out of their ears. So if someone, say, crashes into a door carrying luggage and, say, totally destroys the window on the door, it’s expensive.

It’s also somewhat illusion-ruining if that same person later rips the opposite window off of the hinge and pulls off the curtain, revealing a wall where the cemetery should be . . .

It also ruins the illusion somewhat when that SAME person is referred to as being 5’6” . . .

But anyway, if nothing else, I DID take away from that glorious performance the incredible observation: “Ve’re going to Pyaaaaaanamaaaa!!”

Anyway, yes. The only other interesting thing that’s happened happened yesterday . . . David had been reigning down my neck all week to randomly show up at Smiley library to spice up the long days of study that he and Megan were putting in there. On Saturday, since I had nothing better to do, I finally complied and went.

I saw them, greeted them, and promptly went to the children’s section to search for William Steig to read while there. Unfortunately, they only had Abel’s Island, Dominic, and The Real Thief, two of which I own and all three of which I’ve already read.

After that failure, I went an immensely more mature route and picked up The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul by Mr. Douglas Adams. I got about three pages into it, total.

So we were sitting there for a while . . . probably about an hour. David I were reading (sort of . . . and you can tell who the intellectual in our group was: there’s me reading Douglas Adams, and there’s David reading Plato), and Megan was alternating researching the Jesuits, writing about the Jesuits, railing about the Jesuits, and randomly shaking her computer’s monitor (presumably, to beat the research and writing into submission). We were all conversing off and on, as well. Somewhere along the way, I must’ve said something about having nothing to do with my life, and he gestured and Megan and told me to go bowling. Megan kind of chuckled, so I figured it was one of their countless inside jokes sprung from a week of overexposure (my motto for the day was “not gonna ask”), so I just rolled my eyes and said “again, not gonna ask.” Megan responded with, “no, really.” Which confused me, because no one bothered to explain.

In the end, it was in reference to Megan’s little sister’s fifth birthday party, which was at Empire Bowl, and at which Megan didn’t want to be alone in her age group. David couldn’t go because he had no money, and therefore wouldn’t be able to pay for himself. And, since Autumn (the afore-mentioned little sister) hadn’t invited him, that would’ve been bad. I, of course, was simply ROLLING in the dough, so I was told to go.

In the end, of course, all three of us went, and I paid for David (for the most part, he paid about half of it). The three of us played a game all our own, which was documented by David and Megan with David’s fancy-shmancy expensive camera. Most of the pictures seem to be of me, because Megan generally made David delete the pictures of her, and only started taking pictures so that she could get pictures of him as revenge. I didn’t really care, so David just kept snappin’ photos of me, and then complaining that it was always the same (perhaps because I’m actually consistent in how I bowl . . .?).

Before playing, we had all made sure that the others knew how much we sucked. Megan said, “You guys have to understand that I’m a really crappy bowler.” I responded with, “I seriously doubt you’re worse than me.” David finished things off with, “I haven’t bowled in a decade.” In the end, the scores proved us right. David won with a 78, I came in second with 72, and Megan lost with fifty-something.

After that we went back over to where the little ones were, and hung out over there for a while . . . just talking and generally getting in the way. Or at least, I was getting in the way, Megan and David seemed to be doing just fine staying out of it. And not only was I in the way, but once again it was apparent that I just have a bad effect on little girls naturally . . . they always either try to attack me or ignore me completely. Megan introduced David and I to an adorable little girl, and David said a few things to her which she responded to. I then asked her something (can’t remember what . . . something basic like “what’s your favorite color”), and she kind of stared at me for a minute, then looked away and refused to look at me again for the rest of the day. Let me tell you, that is a freakin’ DEPRESSING thing. Megan told me that I should be surprised, because that’s basically what she does (either try to kill me or completely ignore me), but it’s different because she’s not in the “young and innocent” age group where you expect them to just kind of accept everything as being inherently good . . . I mean, people like Megan I can understand, because they’re aware that I’m evil to the core, but little kids . . . especially little kids I’ve never met . . . *sigh*

Anyway, after that we went and sat up in the snack area and talked for a while about dirt and worms (the “cake”) and spoons and other such things . . . then we got out of the way for the actual kids to enjoy it, but we got to eat it. After that we were just sitting around hanging out for the rest of the time . . . Megan took it upon herself to completely destroy the tablecloth if possible, and used every method available short of setting it on fire (and she came pretty close to doing that, but her stepdad took the lighter away). But to make up for not setting the table cloth on fire, she destroyed her spoon with her teeth and set it and a fork on fire.

And then, to finish things off, as Megan and her family were leaving, she decided to put the leftover Dirt’n’Worms to good use. So she made up a big plate of it and set it in front of David, who removed his glasses and had at it, face first. Face only, actually. Megan got several pictures of that, I think, I got one. After he had had his fill (or, rather, we had had our fill of watching him), she pushed the plate over to me, but I (being the boring person that I am) declined. Partially to save myself humiliation, partially because there weren’t any napkins left.

And that was basically my day yesterday. My day today basically consisted of church and messing around on the computer, and writing this.

So there you go. You’ve got an update out before school starts, which will be on Tuesday. *sob sob* Hopefully I’ll get another one out next Sunday about tomorrow (Labor Day) and the first week of school.

So until then, this is the ever-illustrious Darth Harbison, signing off.

Comments:
AJ: If I recall correctly, I said “ROFLOLSCAMCS,” which means “Rolling On the Floor Laughing Out Loud Spitting Coffee At My Computer Screen.” Picked that one up from Sarah. I’d imagine you’re right about Juliet. Something will probably be up on So_Thoughtful in the next few days . . . I have a couple of ideas. “What the, I was expecting—“ “Some kind of celebrity??”

Stephen: Um . . . I feel like an idiot, but what does TZ stand for?

Megan: Heh, you’ll have to forgive me for that. You should’ve seen what I did to Beth when the blog was first starting . . . not intentional, but she got quite upset . . . anyway, option number two picked, was that good enough? And you’re gonna have to send me that paper when it’s done.

(Final Count: Pages: 8, Words: 4139)