IHOP Night

Well, last night was opening night, and tonight was middle night, and both were SO AWESOME, and then we went to IHOP.

We arrived and sat down and took superlong to decide what we were ordering and I ended up getting hot chocolate and pancakes. They were good, if sugary. It wasn't really the food that counted.

We were the only group in the small IHOP universe for a while, and then this other cast from somewhere arrived. They were juniors and seniors. At first we kept to ourselves, then we mingled a bit, then this girl named Kate made a speech and everyone applauded and then.

One guy from the other table comes over to her with a napkin.

Him: Hey.
Him: I just met you.
Kate: ...?
Him: And this is crazy.
Him: But here's my number.
Him: So...
Him: Call me, maybe?

At which point everyone screamed and clapped and went insane. It was excellent. I was hyper. We took a photo that near-perfectly embodies our existence as a group. Our director left eventually, and then people started leaving. But I had the time of my life.

Later, when we were leaving, some people from the other table, who we didn't really know at all, came and hugged us. I really, really like theater people. Generally amazing and somewhat insane.

I love all of the people in Frosh play. There is simply nothing like it. I love our closeness as a cast, how well we know each other, how we have inside jokes and we always have something to talk about. It's kind of beautiful. I'm going to have serious post-play depression. It's culminating in closing night tomorrow. I don't want it to end. I've loved every minute, and I'll miss it so much. All the work, everything - it ends up glorious. Glorious enough that I can get all sappy and sentimental like I am.

Open Class

Today in Theater we had an open class day. That means that all the other eighth graders came to watch us, two classes at a time.

In first period we had our first open class, which was an iffy performance. We were all a bit embarrassed and we hadn't really gotten into it yet. But after that show we had almost two hours to do nothing - they didn't even make us go back to class. We got into heated conversations, so loud that we were yelling, and went sort of crazy. Everyone was particularly surprised at me, because it was the first time I really showed off my loudness when I'm hyper. I'm actually still a bit hoarse from that. We got so utterly hyper that we went into various displays of randomness, and being that it was theater and we're all psychos, it got to be handstands and cartwheels and splits and imitations of drunkards. Someone summarized The Butterfly Effect, which is a movie, except he didn't make it short - it took 45 minutes for us to get through the random plot points and for him to impress upon us the creepiness, violence, and just wrongness of much of the movie. One girl did my makeup, as she'd done for most of the girls in the class before the first show. The whole day, from 8 to 1, I was barefoot - no shoes, no socks.

At 11:30 we had our second "show," which was considerably better than the first one, and much more fun. By then I wasn't embarrassed in the least, not anymore. They're just people, same as us. After our last show, which was by far the best, we all congratulated each other. I skipped around the now-empty studio and drank out of the giant water bottle that was being passed around. We had spent the whole day performing and hanging around with the psycho class. We're all mad, but all the best people are.

I am Lazy

I haven't updated my blog in a week...

And I can't make any excuses, I mean...I was on vacation most of last week and today double geometry at the end of the day today was canceled so I got to go home at 1 o'clock instead of 2:45.

I admit it. I have been Lazy. With a capital L. And I already missed three quotes of the week. Harrumph.

Right then, time to get cracking. Triple QOTW, updates, and the like. It's actually kind of nice to make myself do work that I decide on.

The Decline of Snail Mail

Today I wanted to buy postcards to send to my teachers and classes in America. I went into a toy shop, which my mom said probably had them.

"Do you have postcards?" I asked. The woman shook her head.

"Snail mail isn't a thing anymore," she said. "We used to have them, when it still was. But people don't use it."

The decline of snail mail is something quite sad, in my opinion. Letters go back thousands of years - I mean, practically since the written word there has been some form of written message. Email has sort of replaced it. But isn't it thrilling, in a way, to look in your mailbox and to have something that someone sat down and wrote for you as much as weeks ago without anything from you? And packages are even better, but I don't think they're going anywhere for the moment - at least, not until a teleporter is invented. Which probably won't be anytime soon.

Thoughts?

Remembrance

Yesterday there was a basketball game at school. This particular one is held every year in memory of an alumnus who was killed in the army twenty years ago.

Before the game, there were endless speeches of how he was so nice, so brave, how he loved music and sports, how young he was when he died. I know that many people in the gym were not listening. And it made me think: what is remembrance? From the description, you could have thought that this boy was an angel, which, with no disrespect to him, probably wasn't true. People tend to glorify the dead, and they aren't around to set the record straight. At funerals and memorial services, people only mention how lovely they were. No one talks about the bad or annoying things they did. It's "disrespectful." But is it? I mean, would you like someone to talk about you like you were some sort if god, when in fact you weren't? Maybe you say yes, but do you want to be remembered as the "lovely angel who did no wrongs?" I don't.

The thing is, this is so ingrained into our culture that no one finds it strange that we may not remember people in their entirety. Of course, you shouldn't be cursing and insulting them, but who wants to be made into a god? Who wants to be made the subject of endless speeches of good? With our human nature, we don't like hearing good things. We only find the unusual, strange, and bad interesting.

This is why dead heroes are the subject of much debate. The dead can't ruin their perfect image. The dead can be made into gods. But should they? Because in the end, no one is ever any more than human.

Faults

Yesterday, on the bus to Hamlet, we decided that theater class is where all the freaks are, all the psychos. I'm not sure if that's precisely true, but we do have some of the crazier people.

So we were trying to figure out what each of our psychological faults are.

"I'm hyperactive," said one boy.

"You're a drama queen," someone said to a girl.

"I'm hyperactive, I have concentration problems, and I am dyslexic," said another boy.

"And me?" I asked. "What's my psychological fault?"

"You?" they said. "You're American."

Well then.

Quote of the Week

Okay, so this week I have been watching Doctor Who and existing. I say existing because I sort of have no life right now. Oh well. Got to fix that. But I'm watching Doctor Who.

So, I present unto you my favorite line from Doctor Who (well, one of them at least):

"Well, I was on my way to this gay gypsy Bar Mitzva for the disabled when I suddenly thought, the Third Reich's a bit rubbish, I think I'll kill the Fuhrer."
~ River Song, Let's Kill Hitler, Doctor Who

She says the above quote in front of a gun squad who are employed by the Nazis and are keen to shoot her. This is why I love River Song.

(By the way, here's a YouTube link to her saying that. I am obsessed.)

Crazy Home Thoughts

Yesterday I was watching Wizard Rock, a song that I really do love. It's about, well, Wizard Rock, which is a music genre about Harry Potter. It's a good song anyway, but it's about Harry Potter so...it's awesome. It's also about depression a bit, which, well, is okay.

But what I was going to say is that listening to this song made me really sad, not just because Potter is "over" but also because my friend would always play it on her iPhone and we would sing it. We used it to annoy our cabin mates on a school trip - they ended up shooing me onto the porch when we had to do written work because I was the louder one of us.

And that made me wonder: how will it be when I get home? Will I look at Doctor Who and Hunger Games and be really sad because it reminds me of the days here? I don't know, but I can't help thinking that after this I won't have a home. It's scary, not knowing where you belong or if you should be here at all.

Valentine's Day

It's February fourteenth, which is supposedly the holiday for love.

The Middle Ages was when it first started being significant, and it progressed normally until finally nowadays it's a big chance for companies to make money as well as being a holiday for love. I mean, around Valentine's day, stores in the US are positively exploding with packages that are specially pink and full of hearts. It's a bit overkill, don't you think?

Quote of the Week

It's on time this week! I didn't forget!

This week I watched The Eleventh Hour, which is a Doctor Who episode and Matt Smith's first episode as the Doctor. There is one really awesome scene in which the Doctor is talking to an alien called the Atraxi, trying to ward them away from Earth.

"Is this world...protected? Well, you're not the first to come here, there have been so many. What you've got to ask is...what happened to them?

Hello. I'm the Doctor. Basically, run."

~The Doctor, The Eleventh Hour, Doctor Who

I think the Atraxi made the right choice by getting out of there.

Handstands

PE class today. As usual, we ran five minutes at the beginning of class and stretched.

Then we went into pairs, dragged out the mats, and practiced handstands.

I went first out of my partner and I. First try: step, arms up, bend forward - faceplant. It was probably the most hilarious thing ever to the rest of the room, if they were watching. My second try worked, though, with my partner holding me up. Handstands are much easier than you'd think when you find the balance. I found it a few times, but I still had my partner hold me up because I was terrified of falling.

It ended up being quite fun, and now I find myself with the urge to do one. But there's no one to hold me up and also the floor is made of stone tiles or something of the sort, so...maybe it's not such a good idea.

Sick, Again

For the second time in three weeks, I am sick.

What does the world have against me?! It was nice to be well for a change. I suppose it was not to be.

Seize the Story by Victoria Hanley

If you are a writer, I encourage you to read this book. If not, well...you may still find it interesting, but certainly this is meant directly for "teens who like to write" as it says on the cover.

At first when I looked around for writing advice books I came up with some nice ones. Yeah, they're all nice. I haven't yet read the favorite recommendation of professionals that is Bird by Bird, but I've read Seize the Story by Victoria Hanley; that should count for something, shouldn't it?

On a side note, has anyone else noticed that "seize" is one of the 927 words in the English language that break "i before e except after c?" Because of those words, it is no longer taught in schools.

Continuing with the subject at hand.

So I was reading through all these things talking about writing and publishing, and then I came across Seize the Story. This is not only a helpful guide but also fun to read. Yeah, it goes into grammar and "show don't tell" and things like that, but it's not dry in the least. It's the only writing book I've actually bought besides Writer's Market. It's the only book I dragged along here.

So.

Open up your local library's homepage and search Seize the Story to make sure they have it. If not, get it somewhere else. But to any writers: I do encourage you to read it.

Ballet Accomplishments

I recently - that is, on Sunday - restarted ballet. After three weeks of nothing, it was good to be back. Yes, it was work. "Ballet is hard, and then you die."

Today, when we were traveling across the floor, I managed to do my first-ever double pirouette in which I stopped at the end on balance. Supposedly, everyone in Boston Ballet Intermediate 2 is supposed to know how to do that, but I never could. So this is major, and a great source of pride for me.

Of course, the rest of my pirouettes for the day were utterly horrible, but now I know that I am capable of doing a successful double pirouette (that was something doubtful earlier on). So it may well have been chance, but I'm going to take pride in it for all it's worth.

Why the Hour Hand is Important

Today I woke up, looked at my watch. I thought it was seven thirty.

Then I started freaking out over the fact that I'd totally forgotten over my sort of large amount of grammar homework and rushed through it. By the time I was done, I thought it was 8:10. I took a rushed shower and packed up all my stuff, running back and forth between my room and the living room, finding everything. "I'm gonna be late," I moaned, noticing that it was now "8:30."

"It's seven thirty, isn't it?" my mom said. "I'm not making it up, am I?"

I looked at the clock. Seven thirty, staring me in the face. I had woken up at six thirty.

So, let this be a lesson to you all - look at the hour hand, it's just as important as the other one. Now I will proceed to go through my day on one less hour of sleep. We'll see how that goes.

The Fog is Upon Us

Today in last period French I looked out the window. There was fog.

But it wasn't the normal stuff there is back in Boston; it was this scary yellow color. The high-rise apartment buildings next to our school, which are gray, were tinted ocher by the thick air. The sounds in the basketball court below were magnified, as if we were on the ground floor.

I'm not really sure why, but this weird fog seems like it's anticipating something. There's a feeling of something waiting to happen.

The question is, what is it?

School-less Friday

Today, at school, it was the day that they got report cards.

Having only been here for three weeks, I don't have a report card. So the teacher said that instead of coming for forty-five minutes, I didn't need to come to school at all.

Instead, my mom took me to Allenby Street, which is in the heart of Tel Aviv. It's mostly got a combination of clothing stores, some fancy and some not, and other designer stores. We walked along there for awhile, pausing to go into a few shops. Then we reached Nachlat Binyamin Street, where every Friday there is an artists' market. After passing the security guard, we bought some backpacks for me and my brother in a small shop near the end of the market. When we finished, the market was mostly up and running for the day. There was a collection of things that you would be hard-pressed to find anywhere else - handmade clay flowers that looked real, all sorts of jewelry, small figurines of all kinds, stained glass, wood crafts, fabric, hairpieces, leather products, cuckoo clocks in all kinds of shapes. We met up with my aunt and went to a café with a very nice outdoor area to sit in. My uncle joined us as we were reading our horoscopes off of a newspaper that was left on our table. I got a hot chocolate as well as a chocolate croissant. This is a very Tel Aviv-y thing to do - sit in a café on a Friday morning, read the newspaper, and have coffee (or hot chocolate, I suppose). The artists' market is located in old Tel Aviv, which has beautiful, albeit fairly run-down, buildings.

After the café we went back to Allenby. We passed the Carmel market (on Carmel Street), which is mostly full of food, and the Betzalel market, which is mostly clothing. There were more stores, but we kept walking. Close to Betzalel market (or Shuk Betzalel as it's called in Hebrew, "shuk" being the word for market), we passed a juice stand, where they were selling strawberries. Here it's strawberry season right now, so we bought one kilo strawberries and two juices - I got a strawberry slushie made from fresh strawberry juice.

After that we continued to Dizengoff Center for some electronics, then caught a bus and went to my grandma's house for what is called in our family "Friday meal," when the whole family comes for lunch. My cousin was telling hilarious stories about the army and the rest of the family telling stories about anything that came up. I don't think I've laughed more in my life.

Cups of tea: 39

Quote of the Week: I Totally Forgot Edition

Erm, ehh, ah, I...forgot. Yeah. That's precisely what happened.

So this week I got an account on Teen Ink's website. Teen Ink is a magazine for teens, by teens. You publish pieces if writing and/or art on their website, which in turn are reviewed by editors and published online. Select work is put into the print magazine.

This week I submitted a poem about being a child. As I was typing the writer's comments, I remembered something that I heard Natalie Babbitt say when I went to an author gathering:

"Children are people....[When we were children] we were not just inanimate lumps of something. We did understand. We did know."

~Natalie Babbitt

To me this is an amazingly true quote. Children don't know the amount that adults do, but they are not nothing. Sometimes people forget the amount that children do know.

Cups of tea: 37ish

Report Cards

Here, they are getting their report cards tomorrow. Which means that the already short day is greatly shortened for some, depending on the time slot in which they confer with teachers about their grades and receive them. First period (which begins at 8:45!) is supposedly going to be some sort of class conversation. And since I haven't been here long enough to get proper grades, I get to go home after that!

Which adds up to forty-five minutes of school. Probably the closest thing here to a two-day weekend. Is that awesome or is that awesome?

Cups of tea: 37ish

Mars Bars

Today I finished my homework at four-ish and my mom took me to Dizengoff Center.

Originally we were going to go walk along Allenby Street and find a better backpack for me, but it started to rain. Israeli rain is cold and windy. So we went to the Center instead.

We weren't extremely successful in finding a bag there: the fact remains that we did not find one. We went to one of my favorite bookstores in the world - and by that I do mean in the world. I fell in love with another bookstore in Italy, but that's beside the point. This bookstore is called, fittingly, "The Library," since it is a great place to sit around and work in. There are reference resources, couches, a work table, and in the kids' corner there are poufs, rugs, and beanbags. The café area outside it has tables that are fashioned to look like piles of books. After spending more time than we needed to there, we ran a few errands, among them visiting the drugstore. At the counter, there were Mars Bars.

I have never tasted one (still haven't, in fact), but I have never seen Mars Bars at any of my local pharmacies. I didn't even know they existed until I read Harry Potter. And then in Maniac Magee, there is a character nicknamed Mars Bar who is always eating his namesake, and I remember distinctly the sentence that says, "Stone was softer than the kid's glare." So I have been wondering what a Mars Bar is. And I bought one. I haven't eaten it yet. But the description of chocolate-covered nougat and caramel sounds delicious.

Cups of tea: something like 35 or 36