Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Theater


I've started writing earlier this morning to get a head start. I have two parts, one in each play. One is a storyteller, the other is the young Pantelimon. He's the main characer and has a lot of speaking parts… I've memorized the storyteller's lines, but I haven't even looked over the young doctor's lines yet… oops!

Hopefully today I'll be able to memorize at least half of those as well. 

We were going to paint more today, but apparently the adults have taken it upon themeelves to actually FINISH most of our pieces. Yay…

It's really weird being at camp without Mom. Not that we talked to her much, or saw her more often than most kids here see the doctor… but this year, there's a different doctor. Which is weird.

SHe's really nice, really helpful, but it's weird. By this time with Mom I think she would have let me take the bandage off, but I'm still wearing it this morning. And my toe is all moist and sweaty.


I find it really really interesting that last year my character died (I also had two parts last year), this year my character dies… I do become a saint this year, though. Last year I was a heretic. (Well, two of them).

Let me expalin more about the play. This year we have two of them, one that's about the life of St. Pantelimon, a doctor that worked 'pro bono,' but that was executed because he was a Chirstian.

We've all gathered in the young big girls cabin to chat and read and socialize… despite the fact that we've been talking all day.

 Alex Huluta showed up last night and it was just this day that we actually talked. She's exactly the same as she's been every year. SHe still knows everything I've ever told her about me. It's amazing that she doesn't memorize her lines for theater in one go, witht her memory. 

I love exerciseing— practicing, I mean, for all this theater stuff. I love it. It's sometimes a chance to goof off for no reason. I can do ridiculous things and just do random things no sane person would do, like dropping to the floor in a dead faint (which is normal when your head's been cut off), or kneeling up straight when my head's been cut off (which is also normal because I'm a saint and believe in God… so despite the fact that I have no head and am not being held up by anything, I'm still kneeling on the cold concrete).

I'm not sure why, of course, but that doesn't matter.

On the other hand, not everything is rosy. We have so little free time… it feels like instead of having the structure yet free time that we had last year, sports have been crammed in on top of all of the religious stuff this year, which means that instead of being able to relax, we're constantly working.

No comments:

Post a Comment