I just found out the 10-minute play I wrote for my Comedy Script Writing course was selected to be put on in our 10-minute Play Festival happening on the 1st & 2nd of February. (Pretty sure this is a free one, folks! … js.)
(Note: Out-of-towners, this gives you plenty of time to book the nights off to get here and see the play. For those coming in from Ottawa, the 10 minutes of performance will totally be worth the 5+ hour (depending on traffic) drive to get to see it.)
But for reals here, I’m super happy my play was selected because I put a lot of work into that thing, writing it and re-writing it. Loving it, having it torn apart, hating it, then finding it at least tolerable enough to hand in.
I know it will be hard work to see all these plays come to life; lots of rehearsing, memorizing lines etc. But it’s going to be so much fun. Just like filming those parody sketches was tremendously fun!
I can’t wait to see my classmates transform into WW1 soldiers and French prostitutes. It’s going to be a blast!
The other day I accidentally left a candle burning and I left my apartment for several hours. When I got back, there was such a delightful odour in the apartment and thankfully (and more importantly,) the place hadn’t burned down. My boyfriend said to me: “You scare me sometimes;” words I’ve only ever heard uttered to people losing their marbles.
Am I losing my marbles, maybe?
Keeps me regular!
Note to self: Work out the ol’ brain more with daily sudoku.
I suppose a great way to stick to my New Years resolution of writing more/all the time, is to write more in this blog. I know it’s supposed to be behind-the-scenes confessions about my time at Humber (Clown) College, but well, it’s the Holidays still, we don’t go back to school until Monday, so in the meantime, please excuse my non-school-based rambles.
My cat’s in heat.
(Why do I always talk about my cat? I don’t mean to. I don’t think any cat-owner means to talk about their cat(s) as much as they do. They’re just so adorably distracting.)
Last night we cuddled and spent the evening catching up on hours upon hours worth of Glee. Hey! I don’t care what you have to say! That TV show, love it or hate it, is bringing more and more children into the performing arts. I wish Con had a glee club when I attended school there. We had an improv team that couldn’t afford to go to the only improv competition for French schools in Ontario. It was all the way in Timmins. That’s pretty damn far from the Niagara Region.
We couldn’t even put on plays. We tried to once, but interest and enthusiasm among the cast was so low we had to cancel it (AND I’d nabbed the lead! #unfair) Trying to compare my high school education with high schools on TV is impossible. They don’t write shows for 300 or so French Canadian public school children, most of whom’s ambition remains “staying a live to deal pot to the next generation of Wellanders.”
I think small-town Franco-Ontarian culture does have a place within pop-culture. Somebody get me on the phone with TFO!
I should probably have written that last bit of rantiness in French.
With the launch of Facebook’s new Timeline and, as time, in the real, non-social-networky world goes on, I’m beginning to realize I have a bit of an obsession with time. Let’s add the word “time” in here one more time for good measure. Time.
I'm making it easier and easier for you to find out everything you need to know about your next victim.
I’ve never been the greatest at managing time. I used to sign up for many extra-curricular activities, (dance, piano lessons, army cadets, sports, improv, taxidermy, etc.) I was out so often that some of my fondest memories are of my parents and eventually my siblings rushing me from one place to the next. It was a regular occurrence for the driver to brake especially hard at red lights and stop signs when I was trying to put on my cadet dress uniform over top of my ballet tights in the back of the moving car.
In university, I became a bit better at managing assignments, but not until third year. I’d had enough of all-nighters because I worked. I needed to be (somewhat) conscious to up-sell popcorn to miserable suckers. I began to recognize patterns in the professors’ assignment-schedules, knowing I would be given a certain amount of time to write a certain amount of essays that were all going to be due within the same week so, I’d begin writing them well in advance. By fourth (and fifth) year, I had pretty much managed it. And if I still couldn’t finish on time, there was always bribery. Sexy, sexy bribery.
I finished school and moved to France and there, time sped up. It started to feel as though it was going so fast I was spinning. (Note: it might have been all that wine.)
When I came back state-side, (province-side?) I was obsessed with seeing people; staying in touch with friends I’d made in France and re-connecting with school and work friends – booking and often over-booking myself, throwing parties at which I would try to combine all of my social circles at once in an attempt to save time and thus, kill several birds with one party-stone.
Who spiked the punch?
It is impossible to combine everything in one. Comedy in Toronto is helping me to realize this. On any particular night, there are at least a dozen performances I can attend, either as a performer, or (more commonly) a spectator. I can’t see them all. I can’t do it all. And there are parties. And there are other meet-ups. And there are joke-jams.
Then, there are nights in.
Nights. In.
Sometimes they’re the simplest and the most meaningful.
Brie Watson 