Thirty Five

Day THIRTY five:  Finally got the day right. EXCEPT NOT.

Once upon a time there was a staircase, which was not seldom used but frequently passed through, but only by one kind of people.  A segregated staircase one might call it, and that staircase lived in Massey hall.  It was dark wood, and winding, and noisy, but had enough character and memories to last a lifetime.  It was the kind of staircase that would make you miss the people in your life that you have lost.  It was the kind of staircase to evoke the first time he noticed you, or the last time you saw her.  Is it possible to love a staircase?  Not to sound too much like Brick from Anchorman here, because I may or may not just love the entire hall, but that staircase man, I’d live on that staircase if Michael wouldn’t get mad about it (only those select Massey-goers will understand this reference, because it is intensely hard to miss Michael on any given weekday morning in Massey Hall).  I love that staircase, and this is no projection of my love for anything else, anything but potentially the theatre department in general.  I thought this acting class would turn me off of theatre completely, and it has probably done the opposite.  Whenever I take a practical theatre course I am thrust into the theory again, fall in love with new playwrights and styles, and eventually write a new play.  I’d really like to start one, maybe tomorrow?

It seems as though February is turning into half writing, half anecdote month, well by golly I can fill you up with anecdotes until your heart’s content!  What does that even mean?  Maybe I’ll do Mon-Wed-Fri writing, Tues-Thurs-Sat anecdotes, breaks on Sundays?  Why do you people care, this here’s my country, my discourse, get your own.

It’s only been a month and I already love this blog more than any other class this term (with theatre theories running a close second).  This has got to be a good thing, right? 

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