So I suggested to Steven that we use the tripod to record “diary” segments like on reality TV shows and made him hide in the bathroom till I was finished recording.
DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA
So I suggested to Steven that we use the tripod to record “diary” segments like on reality TV shows and made him hide in the bathroom till I was finished recording.
DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA
If you drive forever down Highway 70 in New Mexico, just the sort of place you’d expect to run out of gas or break down at the start of a Tex-Mex themed slasher film, you’ll pass some missile testing sites, an inexplicable border patrol check point, and White Sands National Monument. I’ve wanted to go ever since Josh Langsfeld told me in a postcard that it was “like being on the moon.” Which I guess could be true, if Josh’s version of the moon involves being blisteringly hot and sledding down sand dunes, the two principal activities at White Sands.
Okay. Here is something you may not be aware of.
We’ve been driving all day and only ended up in Comanche Springs, STILL 219 miles from El Paso. And most of it after San Antonio looked a lot like this:
And, okay, maybe I’m lying when I said we’ve been driving ALL day. We did stop in Seguin, Texas, a town whose promotional posters claim that it is “Aged to Perfection”, which is true if here “perfection” means “peeling paint and abandoned buildings”. Why stop here? To see the World’s Second Largest Pecan.
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Hopefully by the time you read this, I’ll already be on I-10, rocking out to my playlist composed of every song on my iPod that contains the words “road”, “highway”, or some kind of place name. I’m not sure what this means for my “WITHOUT FAIL” updating; with any luck, I’ll be updating more, reporting on the day’s adventures, but that largely depends on our ability to find The Internets. Luckily, Steven Wiggins can sniff out free wireless like Jeremy Caves can recognize a non-biodegradable cup from thirty yards. The itinerary remains comfortably vague, a welcome change from my militarized childhood vacations, but here are the concrete deets I have.
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For some reason, Anna Baron has commissioned me to write a One Act for her to direct next year. Thinking that this year’s play would be my last chance to show off my “forgettable dialogue” as the Thresher put it, I’ve already used up all my good ideas. Seriously, here’s the list I brought to college. I think it applies, not only to one acts, but to life:
Patricia’s List of Good Ideas
1. LIVE ANIMALS
2. Witches!
3. More singing
4. Tape inanimate objects to people as much as possible
5. Find silly nickname–ADJUST WARDROBE ACCORDINGLY
6. This:
As you can see, I’ve already used up all of them because, unlike THE 434, I’m good at completing lists. This means I’ll either have to write a whole new list of good ideas (though I can’t see how it’ll beat that one) or attempt to use the same one over again without anyone noticing. But how can we get Dhruv back into that tutu? And can I somehow make it a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure One Act? I’ll ponder these.
Lately, my strategy has become sitting down in the depressingly empty Wiess commons at meals and announcing, “So I have to write this one act…” and then making a list of everything people suggest. In the end, all I’ll have to do is find a way to squish everything on the list into one play. It’s the Long Island Iced Tea version of the creative process. AND IT ALWAYS WORKS. Here are just some of the gems I got tonight:
Dr. Gustin: You should write about a married couple!
Denise: You should write about your road trip!
Dr. Gustin: Wait, you could have some kind of trial and then pick audience members to be part of the jury! It could be a different outcome each night!
Me: So a choose-your-own-adventure couple’s road trip courtroom drama?
Roque: Ummmm… (his face says he wants to be the voice of reason, but he’s just not man enough)
Me: Genius!
And clearly the best way to get inspiration for this epic tale of melodrama and audience participation is to experience my OWN courtroom drama on our road trip. Like most of my goals, this one can easily be solved with a simple game of Truth or Dare. Here’s the plan I’m going to whip out about half-way up the Pacific Coast:
Me: TRUTH or DARE?
Steven: Ummmmm… Truth.
Me: That’s the wuss answer.
Steven: Okay, dare.
Me: I dare you to steal the World’s Largest Holstein Cow! Pride of New Salem, North Dakota!!
Steven: Crap.
That should get the job done.
Oh, and I’ve declared myself the Winner of the Cookie Self-Portrait Contest. My Secret Mystery Prize is not having to come up with a Secret Mystery Prize. Thanks for your votes/nitpicking (Brian).
After spending a full three days at Rice–including being kidnapped by freshmen a few times–I decided to give my younger brother Thomas an exit interview to see if the Ladd Awesomeness will continue at Rice long after I am gone.
Me: What did you think of the Servery?
Thomas: Better than I expected. And surprisingly easy to sneak in to.
Me: Who would win in a fight: the third floor pigeon or the fourth floor rat?
Thomas: The fourth floor rat because the pigeon has eggs to protect. The rat has nothing to lose and can use that to his advantage.
Me: What would you say is the number one threat to student safety on Rice campus?
Thomas: You. You and your List of Things To Do This Semester. You and your aggression towards JerBear.
Me: Who’s JerBear?
Thomas: Jeremy [Caves].
Me: Why do you call him JerBear?
Thomas: He’s cuddly. And has a typewriter.
Me: Who would win in a fight: JerBear or Roque?
Thomas: Roque. Because solar panels beat typewriters. And bears.
Jeremy: Hey, I talked to my parents and they said it was totally cool for you to stay at our house on your road trip.
Me: Cool. Also, would it be okay if I called you ‘JerBear’ from now on?
Jeremy: No, that would not be okay.
Thomas: I’m doing it. It must be cool.
Jeremy: You’re leaving so I don’t care. (turns back to me) You can’t.
Me: Okay, we’ll talk about it later.
Jeremy:CAN’T. (walks away)
Me: Yeah, we’ll see.
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