This entry will probably not be as entertaining as other posts. Maybe because this is basically just me rambling to myself (so it’ll probably be like 2500 words long, and that’s with some rounding). If you want funnies, look elsewhere. Under your bed, perhaps. I noticed some dust bunnies forming there, and I just thought you might want to clean that out.
That’s right kids! Two blog entries this week!
No, we don’t have two assignments. I just wanted to make an extra entry because this has been stuck at the back of my mind for quite some time. It isn’t school related, is what I’m getting at I guess.
If you were paying attention and actually read the post title (I know, I know. People actually READ the titles?! BLASPHEMY), then you would know that this is going to be all about the wax museum.
For those of you who hang around with me at school and the like, you probably have noticed that’s all I’ve been talking about pretty much all day. In fact, if you ever see me randomly zoning off or getting more jittery then usual, chances are it’s because I suddenly remembered the museum. Well, that’s pretty much due to the fact that it has been clinging to my brain and refusing to let it go, no matter how many times I tell it that I don’t like it and no one would ever want to be its friend.
So before I start on my long and boring rant (Seriously, I just previewed it and it’s the length of 5 usual blog posts put together), let me say one thing that I’ve never said before (overly sensitive Language Arts teachers/students, cover your eyes and never look back upon this entry. Who knows the effects it may have).
I hate Language Arts.
Wow. That…that actually kind of hurt to say.
For the past who knows how many years, L.A has always been my favorite subject. However, in the past few grade levels, I’ve noticed how boring it’s become.
All we ever do is sit there and analyze the same paragraph over and over and over again, pulling out the same message that we figured out three chapters ago. It’s become all about symbols and finding what the author intended. The character’s mean? Well, I guess it’s because of their traumatic past or someth – NO. IT’S BECAUSE THAT CHARACTER IS THE ANTAGONIST AND SERVES THE PURPOSE OF BEING THE MAIN SOURCE OF CONFLICT IN THE STORY.
Oh. A-alright…well, what about the best friend? He’s a pretty cool character. Y’know, he can be kind of a pushover sometimes but – THAT IS BECAUSE HE IS THE FOIL AND EXISTS SIMPLY TO MAKE THE MAIN CHARACTER LOOK BETTER.
Get what I’m saying?
But anyways, how does this relate to the museum? you might be asking. My answer: I’m getting to it. Right about…
So the past Friday we went to the auditorium for something that the advanced drama class (which I honestly had no idea existed) had prepared. Some kind of wax museum exhibit. I assumed it was going to be set up on the stage and we would all form an orderly line, go through each station, and leave.
So the class just strolled in there – alright, I see a few actors on the stage and – OH MY GOODNESS WHAT IS THAT PERSON DOING UP THERE.
But that was the beauty of it all. Sure, maybe there were some performing on the stage, but they managed to transform the seats (a.k.a usually reserved for the audience), the walls, the tables, even the closets were each of these actors’ personal “stage”. It wasn’t just the corner in the auditorium, it was the scene of a series of gruesome murders, a marriage proposal. Seats housed a girl, angry at her so called “mother”. A wall supported another person as they preached about society. The closets, bathed in red light or accompanied by the soft hum of machinery in the background, became worlds of their own. Heck, some people were leaned up against the stage with nothing but the floor, but took that small area and turned it into a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a 450 pound tiger on board (-cough-thisshouldsoundfamiliartoyou-cough-).
Also, the actors. Oh man, don’t even get me started on the actors.
Too late. I’m started.
I’ve never really noticed theater or anything, but that day I was kinda forced to. So reluctantly, I went up to every station I could get to and said (or forced my friends to say) the activation code. I had no idea what was going to happen each time, but every single one was a surprise. Sometimes you would be greeted with a, “Atten-TION!” Perhaps, “Come closer, my boy.” Maybe even the ever so infamous, “SHUT UP!”
And each and every time, the same amount of vigor and passion. Didn’t matter how many times they had to act out that same line over and over again, it was always filled with the same energy. They took a bunch of words on a page and turned it into raw emotion, into something that you could SHOW. Sometimes they looked past you, sometimes directly into your eyes. Monologues were shouted, feet were stomped, hands waved about through the air. Anything that you were feeling before was erased and replaced by what they portrayed. A girl as she spun around in the rain, criticizing cars? There you were, standing next to her, feeling just as elated as she was. The scene ended. To another station. Now you were being pumped up by the words of a spunky red-headed (or so they would have you believe) girl who you did not want to mess with.
No matter how crappy and awful my day had been up to that point, it all changed in that one moment, that one single performance that didn’t even last half a minute. For that small period of time, I was somewhere else, feeling something different, doing something more. This was the first time I had EVER felt something like that. If I could make someone feel HALF the things I was feeling at that exact moment, I’m quite sure they would spend the rest of the day frolicking through flowers, arms outstretched and having the best time of their life. Really, occasionally I can’t even sleep at night because that is all I can think about.
NOW THAT IS THEATER!!!!!
That’s right people! Over 1000 words AND COUNTING of me going on and on about the same freaking topic!
And you just read it all (assuming you haven’t skipped, which I’m sure you have)!
Whew…feels good to get that off my chest.
Maybe now I can actually get some sleep for once.