Cyrillic
What the heck is "Cyrillic," Zoe? Well, dear reader, Cyrillic is the name for the Russian alphabet. How many letters are in the Russian alphabet, you ask? 31. I'm just full of fun facts over here.
It's a Saturday, and boy I'm tired. I've been working on the play all week and some of my fellow actors get very annoying very quickly. A couple days ago, we decided to use lighters during a scene in which someone sings a song. One of THE MOST annoying kids said "I don't know how to use a lighter." I, being a good Samaritan and all, decide to help this poor soul who has never used a freaking lighter for whatever reason. I go over and demonstrate for him. He decides to explain that he has no knowledge of lighters because he doesn't smoke. I tilted my head and looked at him funny and said, "Neither do I." Just a PSA for those unaware: lighters are used for multiple purposes other than smoking. Shocking, I know. Apparently this kid has never lit a candle.
So last night, he approaches me while I'm watching another scene. He plops down in the seat next to mine. There is a whole auditorium full of over 200 seats, and he decided to sit in the one right next to me. I immediately shift body to lean the opposite direction, hoping he will get the hint I don't want him near me. He stays put. So I ask, in a reasonably cautious voice, "Why are you sitting there?" He looks over and says, "What's your deal?" I know exactly what he's talking about. He's asking why I'm so hostile and unfriendly to him. But his tone of voice is more curious than accusatory. I reply with an innocent, "My deal? My deal-io?" And he says, "Yeah, your deal. Why are you always so awkward around me?" I thought that was interesting way to interpret my behavior. I reply with nothing but the truth: "I'm awkward around everyone." Hello, social anxiety. Then he says something about us needing an icebreaker, and I'm thinking to myself that he could not sound any more like a bad camp counselor (Read: LAME). So I reply, "Like those little minty round things?" And he laughs. He laughs at that stupid joke. I can really tell he's just trying to get on my good side. Then he tells me it's a joke his dad would make. Then he goes on to talk about how he will probably also make those jokes and his kids will hate him. I almost started laughing because literally everyone in our class hates him, so of course anyone who was forced to live with him would also hate him. Then he explained it would be in the "Oh, dad, your jokes are so bad I hate you" way, and I think I gave him an awkward "Ha Ha Ha" laugh. Then he (finally) got up to do a scene.
There's a little snippet from my week. I know I've been writing less, but it's due to the demands of school and rehearsal, not the dislike of writing. I'm going to try to post more when the play is over (only one more week!), but this is it for now. I shall now go. Don't cry for me, Susannah.
