February 23, 2004
The Sequel That Never Should Have Happened
So obviously at this point I can go any number of places. I mean, I'm sure half a dozen horrible movies popped into your head from Disney alone when you saw my title. But I'm not talking about a movie . . . at all. I'm talking about a day. This is the part where I link you to that fateful day and we remember exactly why this should never have happened again.
Okay, are you back yet? Do you remember now? This was clearly a very bad thing. And it happened again. I seriously lost even my usual microscopic modicum of sanity today. I stayed up until 6:00 last night . . . ummm . . . which would generally mean this morning . . . because I had to finish that freaking scene rewrite for Batts. Hmmm . . . I didn't mention that on here, now that I think about it. Batts decided that we ought to rewrite Act V, Scene 3 of Romeo and Juliet, changing whatever we wished. And he wanted us to try and do it in iambic pentameter. He didn't insist, but . . .
So anyway: Generally, you don't rewrite Shakespeare because he did a really good job and you just can't. But it's kind of a . . . whatchamacallit . . . a class assignment, or whatever. So I did it. And now I hate myself. Again.
Not to mention the fact that I wound up doing it in iambic pentameter, just because, and I distinctly remember that I was having a dream in iambic pentameter when Wilson woke me up this morning. After breakfast I went over to the computer labs with Martinez and printed off my re-written scene. I read it to Martinez on the way to chapel and took suggestions from all and sundry. Ideas came to me throughout chapel, and by the time I left for English Lit II, I had mostly the effect that I wanted. I walked out of chapel and realized that I was very distinctly thinking in rhythm.
And then the caffeine finally reacted with the sleep deprivation. I spent twenty minutes walking up and down a hallway, concocting ten-syllable lines while wildly waving my hands about (counting on my fingers). I don't think very many people saw me . . . but then, I wouldn't know. I sat down in English Lit, still counting syllables, but the next hour of class (fortunately) drove it quite out of my head. Dr. Watson told some rather amusing stories (every time he opened his mouth today, it was funny) and I also opened up my Norton Anthology to "The Importance of Being Earnest," on a whim, and started casting it for the performance a few weeks hence. And, of course, I skimmed through most of it. And bit my fingers a lot, because it's dreadfully funny, even when you're not really really tired, and I didn't want to disturb the rest of the class. (They were all talking about Elizabeth Barrett Browning, you see.)
Random sidenote: Statistically, roughly 99.9% of all famous quotes from poems (especially those about love) are ripped horribly out of context and often mean quite different and somewhat disturbing things when read within the whole of their proper surroundings. This fact amuses me. But so did Scholl's chipmunk joke earlier.
Anyway, after class, I headed for SAGA in unusually high spirits and things went downhill from there. All self-control went out the window, especially since I was drinking more root beer to strengthen myself for the coming Batts class. And a fat lot of good Scholl and Gallagher were doing! Anna resorted to behaving in an equally hyperactive manner and blaming it on me. Martinez was the only one even trying to help me out.
I was talking in a single run-on sentence, repeating one word a dozen times in a row, twitching my head in odd directions repeatedly, making any number of compulsive odd hand motions. It was bad. And I couldn't stop because it felt like I would explode if I didn't burn energy in all directions. I found the whole thing to be very tedious, but I can't decide whether to apologize to everyone who was at lunch or figure out some way to charge admission next time. So we'll just leave that whole thing alone.
Oh, and then Scholl and Wilson and Gallagher decide that we should all go see Dr. Kubricht. Thanks, guys. Wasn't that just all kinds of special?!
And while I'm listing off all the people who blatantly took advantage of my condition, Scott just stood there and let me have a heart-to-heart talk with his stupid origami turtle until I figured out what was going on myself and left for Shakespeare class. Jerk.
So, I made two discoveries today: The proper combination of Watson and Wilde for a 55-minute period heightens the effects of the caffeine, while an equal dose of Batts and Shakespeare has the exact opposite effect. I was almost normal when I walked out of that classroom at 2:25, and quite happy to be back . . .
And now I'm going to go read that one book that I must read for American History. And all those other books that I'm reading. Including the book that Dr. Watson gave me today and said I'd enjoy.
Posted by Jared at February 23, 2004 06:33 PM | TrackBack