The other day I spoke with my Playwriting professor over email. She seemed really laid back:
Because there was a disconnect with the scheduling of the class, the bookstore didn’t order books. I think you can probably get them cheaper through Amazon.com. And I think you can probably get a used copy of The Crucible at The Dusty Bookshelf (I think I may even have seen a copy of Playwriting: Formula to Form there this summer).We are getting started a bit late, so just bring yourself t class and we’ll start from there!
Sally
Based on that, I assumed my first day of class would be awesome. She did not disappoint.
I trudged up to Nichols 311 and sat down. "Don’t unpack," she cheerfully warned. "We’ll be staying here for the next five minutes, then moving to a better room (It’s debatable whether the Purple Masque Theatre is "better than" anything, but whatever)."
"I know," she sympathized, "if you can find this place in Nichols, you should be able to stay, right?"
No kidding. This is what the lobby looks like:
"Sometimes we get computer nerds in here (the computer science department dominates like fifty floors of this building) and they’re like, ‘Oh no!’"
"And I bet they get the same," she continued. " Theater students, stumbling around confused, with their pink hair."
After five minutes we made our way to the Theatre. The whole time I kept feeling like there was a mosquito somewhere on my left. Judging by the decor, a mosquito explanation is actually more likely than the usual "my glasses are crusted over with blood and mucous." I kept kind of halfway looking over while trying to pay attention to Professor Bailey. Just to get our minds in gear for our homework assignment, she showed a picture and asked us "What would this person say?"
"I never sleep," I whispered at Cherry, who’s also taking the class.* Cherry thinks she’s famous because she has big hair. She did actually recognize the image (I didn’t): La Marquise Casati by Man Ray. If anyone picked this photo, the most suitable dialogue would probably just be lyrics to "Worst Pies in London."
My homework is to write a monologue based on this photo of Patricia Arquette (I only know who it is because it said so on the back):
At last I gave up on ignoring the mosquito and tried to study it for a while.
Oh. It looks like it’s just an oval of light reflected off the oscillating fan. And there’s hardly any blood on my glasses at all.
*Of course we are all TOTALLY psyched about this.
