Just finished my most recent blank verse assignment for school. I kind of hate it, but I think it satisfies the requirements. At this point that's the best I can hope for, while maybe I'll incidentally get better at generating unrhymed iambic pentameter. I do not much think this course study has made me much better a poet than I was before, so honestly I'm feeling like it was kind of a waste.
For my next regular playwrighting assignment I have to write a one-act play, which is supposed to be about an hour long. I have no idea what that will be about. I had a tough enough time figuring out stories to run just ten minutes. But I only have a few weeks to do it in, so I'll better get cracking.
Margaret opens tonight. I've seen the show at rehearsal several times now, but I'm going to try to attend as many performances as I can in order to support them (not to mention enlarge the audience.) There is also a photo call beforehand, which I'm going to try to be present for so I can take pictures of the costumes. I want to have them for my portfolio, and to e-mail to my mother.
I normally would have ballet tonight, but I want to be there for opening night. Also, my Achilles tendon is a little sore, presumably from pliés, and I really don't want to do permanent damage to it. Still, I hate missing class. I enjoy doing it, it's a great workout, and I don't want to fall behind in my learning. My progress has been spotty; some nights I feel like I'm improving and following along fairly well, some night I feel clumsy and weak. My arms are still ugly. I just wish I were better at remembering exactly what the exercises we do in class are so I can more effectively practice on my own between classes.
Today is a sad kind of day.
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