"Hey Mom, can you make me a..."

On the night before, mothers usually hear this phrase followed by:

"A science project?" "A treat for class?" "A poster for my presentation that I have to give tomorrow and completely forgot about?"

But from me? Oh no. My mother heard "Hey mom, wanna make me a Greek goddess costume?"

And surprisingly enough, she agreed.

Not only did she agree, she even went shopping with me.

What a mother. She indulged my last minute Halloween costume ideas, and made me quite possibly the most kick-ass homemade goddess costume. 

In under an hour and a half.

Hell yes, Mother. Hell yes.

Never Growing Up

We had an interesting lunch hour today. It seems that word is able to describe most of the lunch hours that involve me and my neighbors.

In short, we spent the whole time laughing at poop jokes and pushing each other into various forms of oncoming traffic. It was good.

And when I think about the lunches we've spent together, two words come to mind. The first word is fun. Rightly so. We do have quite a bit of fun.

The second word is childish.

I know that's what comes to other peoples' minds, surely. Just seeing the looks that we get while walking in from the parking lot, I would say that childish is definitely the word that others might use to describe us.

But isn't immaturity, in a sense, what makes fun? Some people have fun making your mom jokes and turning Disney song lyrics into sexual humor (yes, I am guilty as charged). So for them, immaturity is fun.

Acting childishly is what could be considered immature as well. And I for one can almost never think of a time where I was being immature with my friends and did not get a good, fun memory out of the deal.

So why is it that being immature is so much more fun than just doing normal fun things? There are plenty of games you could play or things you could do, like see a comedy show, that would be fun, but not immature.

Although, now that I've said that, I'm thinking back, and it seems that there was a component of childish behavior laced into all of the fun that I've had.

My thought on that is this: Children are capable of having the most pure, innocent, unbridled fun of any age group.

They have so much fun because they're not worried about what other people might think of them, or the way that it may be considered socially acceptable for them to behave. They just do whatever feels right at the moment and go with it.

The people who can laugh at anything, whether it's appropriate or not, and do the weird little jig that pops into their head during a moment of awkward silence because they just felt that it would be a nice time to do it are truly the most gifted of us all. They're not gifted with brains or skill, necessarily, but they're gifted with silly. Somebody who can laugh anything off and make a joke out of socially crippling situations deserves some applause, in my opinion.

So where other teenagers might want to have more "adult" fun by going out on a Friday night and playing beer pong until they can't see straight, I want to have the most childish fun that I can have until the day I can no longer laugh.

Because that pure joy that comes from the most honest and natural form of humor that is not synthesized by words or controlled by the world that we live in. It comes from the little kid that lives in our hearts, and when we make him happy he skips around and throws confetti into our blood and pumps goofy through our bodies. No matter how old I get, I want that little kid to keep frolicking around.

That being said,

Go poop on cheese and put it on a cracker.

Squirrels

There was a massacre at the dinner table tonight.

We were eating drunken noodles. The poor bastards were lying limp on the plate, when I spotted an intruder.

A water chestnut, with his accomplice, the baby corn, had tried to infiltrate the fortress of my drunken noodles and chicken.

But worry not, kind readers, I squashed the infiltrators with one foul smush of my fork.

Only when they lay in pieces upon my plate did I return to the contented munching of my unfortunate intoxicated noodles.

And before you ask if I'm five years old, may I take this moment to tell you that I'm six, actually, I'm six.

And before you also ask what the title has to do with anything, "Squirrels?" you say, "squirrels are not relevant here," I will take this next moment to tell you that they are quite relevant, because my six year old attention span seems to have reverted to that of a squirrel on this fine fall day.

Maybe it's the leaves. Who knows.

As a completely unrelated side note, my turn signal matched up perfectly with the bass drum beat of the Rise Against song that I was listening to today on my way to rehearsal.

There was a precious moment shared at that stop sign between the turn signal, the music, and I.

It was tender.

Why so serious?

So, for those who don't know, I do theatre. I'm definitely a geek. Some might even call me a junkie.

Regardless of the title that you decide to apply, the fact remains that I do a damn lot of theatre.

And I often hear of those who think that it's all serious up on stage.

I can't even count how many people have commented on how much we must practice, or the amount of focus that it all must take, or how serious we all are.

The truth is, shenanigans happen.

Quite often.

In fact, every day.

We love shenanigans.

Giggle fits are not uncommon during preshow, for a number of reasons.

Reason one: Stand too close to the curtain at your own risk, my friends.

There is a very good chance that if you do, you will either get poked, pinched in the butt, or have your pony pulled.

Then there's always the people who enjoy standing behind the curtain saying silly things because they know you have no power to make them stop.

Reason two: We're teenagers.

It's like How to Train Your Dragon; "You just gesture to all of me."

We have dirty minds. If any song lyrics can be turned into a sexual joke, you can almost guarantee that they will be. And as soon as one of us thinks of that onstage, the giggles spread.

It's like a giggle monster has taken over the stage. We can't stop. And for those of you who don't know, it's very hard to sing while giggling.

Very, very, hard. Aka, we don't sing.

Oh, shenanigans. What would theatre be without you?

Gleekatron

Whoever thought that a show about a large group of singing, dancing misfits would become so popular? But nonetheless, Glee has been approved for its third season already, or so I hear.

Although it seems when it comes to becoming a fan of this show, there is no middle ground. It's all or nothing, my friends. You must join the cult or be forever ridiculed. 

Those who choose the first path don a new name: the "Gleek". Before long, they begin to break out in a terrible case of the dancies, which can be fatal to those who are not prepared for it.

Before long, I expect some of them to come to school in wheelchairs just to prove their dedication... or insanity. Whatever floats your boat.

But there are those of us who prevail over the oncoming infection and drama revolving around Jewish people and cripples. Not many of us, but there are some.

It seems that the show has become so reliant on its habitually obedient fan base of Gleekatrons that it no longer cares that the story has lost close to all sense of reality. The Lady Gaga episode has carved that point into stone.

Now, maybe it's just my high school, but I don't typically see people making costumes worthy of a high fashion photo shoot. Around here, the best homemade costume combines your mom's old yoga clothes from the 1980's and some assortment of cheap clothing made in a sweatshop in China and covered with fabric paint of similar origins.

There are no Gaga costumes covered in bubbles in a high school, nor do men wear dresses.

Now, I will admit, I haven't started the new season yet. And I must also admit that the lack of reality only really became disturbing when it added skirt-wearing men and awkward attempts at seduction between the most unlikely of couples to its repertoire.

In their constant attempts to try things that are new and exciting, the writers have crossed over to the dark side. The show now more closely resembles a bad tabloid rather than a high school.

The real question is, who wouldn't find that disturbing?

Oh, of course. The robots.

To Write, or Not to Write... That Is the Question

Today, I was told to create a blog. Pomranka said "Emma, you need a blog."

Okay, well, maybe she didn't say that. But it was close.

So I spent the rest of the day thinking about what I would write about. And here's the long-awaited ultimatum.

Nothing.

Yep. I'm going to write about nothing. Because in doing that, it will give me the freedom to write about whatever I want.

So congratulations, you lucky readers, you have now become a follower of a blog that writes about nothing.

But even nothing is something, so hang in there, and something may come your way. As the great philosopher Socrates once said... Oh. Just kidding. Socrates never said anything about bad bloggers.

I really need to get better at this quoting thing.