"Roast Beef" and How My Biology Teacher Expects Me to Cut Open A Heart

     When I signed up for Biology, I was warned with things like "You know it's a high school class, right?", "It goes on your transcript." and "Are you sure you can do this?" It's the fifth six weeks and I've made straight A's. Wednesday however I was faced with the biggest test of the year. Not the end of course exam; dissection day.     My Biology teacher, Mr. Jesse, was having the whole class dissect sheep hearts. Who in their right mind asks middle schoolers to do this?! It has the words "bad idea" all over it.
     I put on gloves with the weird power in them, goggles that always left whisker marks all over my cheekbones and an almost transparent apron. I sat at my table with my lab partner, Melissa, and sulked. I really didn't want to do this. I mean really! Who knows where that heart has been?! Oh wait, I do. INSIDE A FREAKING SHEEP!!! What did the sheep do to deserve this, Mr. Jesse? Better yet, what did I do to deserve this?!
     So Mr. Jesse walked around with a tray to all of the tables delivering their hearts. With each table he got closer, I felt another wave of nausea hit me like a brick. I thought about just puking so I wouldn't have to do it but puke is almost as gross as a sheep heart (almost).
     Finally Mr. Jesse got to our table and set down this lump of I-don't-even-know-what on our newspaper next to our tools. It had spots of gray, dark purple, white and even a little green. The smell was ungodly. The formaldehyde (used as a preservative) soaked our paper and got everywhere. Melissa asked our teacher about it and his response was to tell me to go wash it. HE TOLD ME TO GO WASH A SHEEP HEART! 
     After I washed it (set it down at the bottom of the sink and let the water run) the smell was more tolerable. Still not pleasant, but now withstandable.
     Then we had to start making incisions. Melissa made the initial ones because I had washed it after all.
     I had to make some cuts too but I came up with a method. Roast beef. It isn't a sheep heart, its just roast beef. "I am not cutting apart a vital organ, I am just making a sandwich." See but then I started to feel kinda like Sweeney Todd and I freaked myself out again.
     Eventually I got through the dissection (and learned nothing mind you!). I tossed the left over pieces and then washed my hands like I never had before in my life. But that wasn't the end! I have Biology first period so the smell of formaldehyde stayed on my clothes all day. It was unnerving to say the absolute least.
     So words of advice to all you Biology students: pretend it's roast beef. And to all the Biology teachers out there: If you want your students to hate you forever, ask them to do a dissection for a grade.

Annoying Ringtones and How No, I Won't Call You Maybe

One of my best friends, Lauren, spends the night at my house all the time. It's a pretty common occurrence. This time however she came armed with her new phone and new ringtones. Lauren's phone had the tone for a new text message to play "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen.
Let me tell you. When it's an ungodly hour in the morning and you finally settle down to sleep its freaking magical. However as soon as I closed my eyes I was startled enough to send pillows and blankets flying by "HEY! I just met you...". I could've murdered Jepsen right then and there with my bare hands.
It's not that I don't like "Call Me Maybe", it just that it's pretty annoying as a ringtone. Let's do the math.

1 teenage girl x 1 cell phone = texting all day
Texting all day = annoying ringtone all day
Annoying ringtone all day = me being pissed off

So to all my nonexistent readers I advise (no, I beg you) not to put annoying songs as ringtones. Mine is "Should've Said No" by Taylor Swift which is a lot more tolerable than being scared the freak out when Carly Rae Jepsen asks you to call her.

My West Side Story Story

     Here lately I've developed this fixation with the musical West Side Story. It has become my dream to play Anita and I swear to you one day I will. To do all those dances and wear those fun dresses would just about make my life...well, perfect. My theatre career would never (EVER!) get a high higher than Anita. I WAS BORN TO BE ANITA! I'm Hispanic, not Puerto Rican but Mexican is close enough right? I speak Spanish! It's fate!
   So as I started telling my friends about this, they revealed that they loved this musical too. Rebecca, Cris, Belle and Quentin all gushed with me. Rebecca and I discussed her playing the Maria to my Anita. Cris confessed that his favorite musical was West Side Story so of course he got a hundred times cooler than he already was. Belle told me all about when she teched for a production of it and I got so incredibly jealous! I knew Belle had done everything but West Side Story? Really?! That's my show!
     Perhaps the most memorable reaction was Quentin's. When I told him I was actually crying because I had just finished the movie and Tony had died. At first he thought something was wrong and was genuinely concerned. Once he found out that I was bawling because of a movie he made his black face that speaks for itself. It says, "Wow you're so dumb." and it's not very nice, as you can see.
     So yeah...you know I try to have a point to these postings...this one kinda didn't turn out so well. I guess the point of it is that I really like West Side Story and I will play Anita before I die. So yeah.

I'm so sorry for this utterly pointless post.

No, really I am.

My Chicken Friends and How I Have the Curse of Confidence

     I love my friends. I really do. But sometimes I just want to hit them. My friends are all chickens. When they see a cute boy they squeal and talk about him but they don't dare tell the boy or even give him a hint. It's like they expect the boy to just magically know that you like him. Hey ladies, guess what. Boys are idiots. They know nothing! You have to be very clear with these fragile creatures.
     Take for example Sound of Music callbacks. I was there with my friends Rebbecca and Madison, as we waited in the lobby we saw a boy sitting by the wall all alone. He was cute, very cute. For blogger privacy reasons lets call him "Adam". So obviously Madison, Rebbecca and I all thought he was adorable. They however refused to talk to the boy. They shot him looks sure but did they even say hello? Of course not. They expected him to read their minds and just assume that he knew. He didn't. So when I tried to go talk to him I was grabbed by my jugular vein, bound to a chair in a dark room, and then gagged by my friends...okay maybe not exactly like that. But it came close trust me.
     So when we went to go sit down I dragged my chicken friends over to him and plopped them down in his row. "Do you mind if we sit here?" I asked in my sweetest voice. He gave me a shy nod(ADORABLE!) and I sat next to him. Unlike my friends I made small talk and asked about his past shows, what high school he goes to, stuff like that. My friends watched in awe. Madison even took pictures.
     The lesson in this? Ladies, you are beautiful in your own way no matter what. Don't let someone bring you down, especially a boy. That's all he is, a boy. Go and talk to him so he can at least know who you are. Guys, stop being so dumb. Seriously!

Being a Future Texan and How High School Snuck Up On Me

W. B. Ray High School

     Ever since the first day of school this year, my teachers have been telling us "You'd better start getting ready for high school. They aren't going to take the crap we put up with!". Of course that's what I heard going into middle school too. It doesn't scare me. Really it doesn't even apply to me, I'm not the kind of kid that gives crap to teachers. I make straight A's, have plenty of friends, and I even do extracurricular activities (okay, just theatre).
     So I really had no fear of high school. I figured I would follow the gifted and talented program that I've been in for eight years now and just go to the gifted and talented high school, Ray High School. This sounded like a great plan. Most of my friends we going to go there, Ray has a great theatre company, and I would continue with the IB (International Baccalaureate) program. I would live happily ever after. Until my mother started doing her research. What she found was Collegiate High School (CHS). This school is located at my local community college and at the end of my Senior year I would be getting a high school diploma and an associates degree.
     So I applied after much "encouragement" from my mother and brainwashed father. I actually tried too. Don't think I bombed that application just because I didn't want to go. I actually did my best because I can't shoot down an opportunity like that so easily. Of course I wasn't as excited as my mother, who had so much faith in what I submitted, figured that I would automatically get acceptance. Because I wasn't instantly ecstatic she figured that I didn't want to go to CHS. Like I said before, I would've liked to go to Ray but if I had gotten acceptance, I would've gone to CHS without (much) complaint.
     "High school is about your education, not your friends. I know your friends are going to Ray but you could do so well at CHS!" she said daily. After months of hearing the same lecture from my parents over and over again, I exploded. My mother and I were in the car on our way to rehearsal one night. I explained to her that I have friends going to Ray. I have friends going to and already at CHS. If I were following my friends I would have to go to Carroll, King, Moody, A.C. Jones, Ray and CHS.
     That kept her quiet for a few weeks. This past Friday was the deadline for us to get our letter from CHS. Quentin and Jonathan were friends of mine that applied and they both got letters saying that they were wanted for interviews. I got nothing. Days passed and still nothing. Mom became uneasy and I became confused. Tuesday was a meeting at Ray for future incoming freshmen and as my mother and I were about to leave I got a weird urge to check the mail. It was fate.
     In my hands with bills, junk letters and free promo crap was my CHS letter. I let my mom open it, I so didn't need to see what it said. But as she read it, her face fell. I took the letter from her and read it for myself. It turns out that I'm "not eligible" for CHS, whatever that means. Of course my mother was pissed, my dad was cool with it because I still had the great IB program at Ray and me? Well I was cool with going to Ray too.
     So that night at the Ray meeting I couldn't help looking around that huge campus and thinking "Woah, I'm going to come here for the next four years of my life?"

Flat Stanley Takes its Final Bows



This was set out in lobby

     Today the cast of The Musical Adventures of Flat Stanley took their final bows. It was a very sad but fun day. After our performance we had a cast party in the blackbox studio. We talked about the good times we had shared over the last few months. There were many laughs but also so many tears. People (okay, just Brant) cried and blamed the salsa for being "too spicy". It was mild. No one wanted our show to end.
     We all joked about PSD (Post Show Depression) and how it was going to kick our butts later. Just that day I read some seriously depressing stuff on Twitter and Facebook. I will copy and past some of what I saw. This is only the day of mind you, there are probably going to be even more PSD tweets and posts as the week goes on and we slowly realize that there are no more rehearsals or performances. WHAT WILL WE DO WITH OUR LIVES?!

PSD TWEETS/POSTS

• @BOOMhollymonroe: Oh my God. This day is going to be the worst. #psd
• @KatieLoovesYou: I'm going to cry like a baby today.
• @KatieLoovesYou: This is the last day of being Mrs.Lambchop.
• @Eli_Oh_Jyes: @KatieLoovesYou YOU WILL ALWAYS BE MRS. LAMBCHOP! #ForeverMyStageWife
• @MireyaYvonne: @BrantMHudgins it's our last day of being paintings, but we will always be masterpieces
• @KatieLoovesYou: Just got done with 'Our Child is Flat' and 'The Funny Sunny Side'.....for the last time. I'm dying of sadness
• @Eli_Oh_Jyes: Love These Kids.
• @HEYitsChristin: Watching techs destroy the set. #sadday
• @BOOMhollymonroe: Its the salsa
• @HEYitsChristin: It's all over. Now on with the next show.
• @BrantMHudgins: You know what? I am not ashamed to be the big baby that I am. I'm not afraid to cry my eyes out, as many of you witnessed me doing today.
• Brant: Okay, I held on for as long as possible, I'm gonna go cry now. (Facebook)
• @KatieLoovesYou: Flat Stanley was a good show. A really good show. #psd
• @EmilyLoovesYouu: We had a good run, you guys. Flat Stanley was a good part of our lives. Now it's time to do another show, and make another fantastic memory.
• @Eli_Oh_Jyes: Post-Show Depression has, officially, begun. #PSD
• @KatieLoovesYou: When Cris sang "Stanley's adventures are over my friends. Though our tale is ending..." I started tearing up. Then cried through the bows.
• @KatieLoovesYou: Seeing William cry tore me apart. #LambchopLullaby #ALotOfTears
• @BOOMhollymonroe: Just got @Eli_Oh_Jyes's email and the PSD has finally sunken in.
• @BOOMhollymonroe: Oh my God. I'm crying.
• @BrantMHudgins: #PSD making me super sad, I'm gonna go cry some more.
• @KatieLoovesYou: I just pulled out some homework that I needed to finish from last week, and it had Flat Stanley lyrics doodled all over it. #PSDHitHard
• Brant: Guys, I'm not crying this is just me remembering how hot that salsa was. (Facebook)
• @TheYellowBrick4: #PSD #WheresMyRope?
• @BrantMHudgins: Dreading going to sleep because that's when I REALLY start crying. #PSD

   So as you can see, a lot of us really felt the depression sinking in. I think I would have too if I hadn't seen something that day.

     That day I went up to the costume loft to return my Mona Lisa dress and saw an old friend of mine. It was a dress set out, hanging by the entrance. I could tell someone had recently moved it because I would've noticed it before. It was covered in black sequins with different colored sequins making all kinds of geometric shapes. I recognized it immediately.

     It was the dress I wore my first time ever performing at the Harbor Playhouse. I used it for a one act festival a long, long time ago. That festival was my first real taste of theatre and really what made me fall in love with the art. I thought it was fate that I see it that day.

     It was fate because as I thought I was saying goodbye to Flat Stanley I realized that you don't say goodbye to shows like that. Not really. I learned the basics in that sequin dress. I learned about how to really pull off a great show. I made friends in that show that I still have. That is where I met Brant, who was my fellow painting (Napoleon) in Flat Stanley. I didn't say goodbye to him. I also remember how I felt preforming that one act play. It felt like I had made it to the "big theatre". Looking back I laugh at what I thought was "big theatre". That was nothing. That was rehearsing every other day for an hour after school then doing two or three free performances. Flat Stanley was rehearsed for months, three to four hours a day, performed multiple times a week for weeks and people paid to see us. If the last time I wore that dress, and you had told me people would have paid to see me, I would've laughed in your face.

    I didn't cry after that. I new Flat Stanley would live on with me. I had learned so much from it and I would never lose that knowledge. I also experienced even "bigger" theatre. Maybe years from now I will look back and say "Wow! I thought that was 'big theatre'?!"