Improv Randomness (Is It Ever Not Random, Being Improv?)

Please continue to take my poll: MBTI Poll.

Last night was an emergency last-minute Improv show at Ursa's. It ended up being Peter, Rick, Zach, Melissa, John, and I. It went very well (I mean, pssh, it's not like we practice for these things :-P). Afterward, all of us save Rick and Zach-- plus with the addition of Laura-- went out to eat at Cicero's (I vowed not to eat and ate a chocolate sundae; Melissa hadn't, and didn't eat-- not only is she more adorable than me, she's a better anorexic, lol . . . ), and then we chilled at Peter's place for a while. John monopolized the wheelchair, and so I wrote him depressing notes about how he was crushing my soul. Then I doodled excessively-- I was basically very restless. This time, Melissa and John were the victims of the inevitable incriminating photographs-- John was pretending to be Stephen Hawking as Melissa sat on his lap; in one picture the angle is just perfect so that they look as if they're drawing in to kiss, in most of the others, she merely looks as if she's giving him a lap dance O.o. Oh, there is also one picture of me looking like a dominatrix-hobo: my hair is all a mess, I'm wearing a big, frumpled sweatshirt, and I'm holding the riding crop Peter and Amanda (his roommate) keep hung in their hallway. The disturbing thing is, I've got this amazingly freakish grin on my face.

Work, today-- I've got two Japanese finals this week, and lots of chapters to be reading, particularly to make up for the lack of work I will be doing, once again, next weekend (Improv road trip! Woot!).

( Quizzes )

Improv Randomness (Is It Ever Not Random, Being Improv?)

Please continue to take my poll: MBTI Poll.

Last night was an emergency last-minute Improv show at Ursa's. It ended up being Peter, Rick, Zach, Melissa, John, and I. It went very well (I mean, pssh, it's not like we practice for these things :-P). Afterward, all of us save Rick and Zach-- plus with the addition of Laura-- went out to eat at Cicero's (I vowed not to eat and ate a chocolate sundae; Melissa hadn't, and didn't eat-- not only is she more adorable than me, she's a better anorexic, lol . . . ), and then we chilled at Peter's place for a while. John monopolized the wheelchair, and so I wrote him depressing notes about how he was crushing my soul. Then I doodled excessively-- I was basically very restless. This time, Melissa and John were the victims of the inevitable incriminating photographs-- John was pretending to be Stephen Hawking as Melissa sat on his lap; in one picture the angle is just perfect so that they look as if they're drawing in to kiss, in most of the others, she merely looks as if she's giving him a lap dance O.o. Oh, there is also one picture of me looking like a dominatrix-hobo: my hair is all a mess, I'm wearing a big, frumpled sweatshirt, and I'm holding the riding crop Peter and Amanda (his roommate) keep hung in their hallway. The disturbing thing is, I've got this amazingly freakish grin on my face.

Work, today-- I've got two Japanese finals this week, and lots of chapters to be reading, particularly to make up for the lack of work I will be doing, once again, next weekend (Improv road trip! Woot!).

( Quizzes )

Censorship By Fear?

Urrgh . . .

14-year-old girl gets pissed off, writes "KILL BUSH" on her MySpace, thinks the better of it, takes it down-- and still gets hunted down and threatened by Secret Service agents.

She's fourteen, guys. That's not to say fourteen-year-olds don't know what they're saying-- but, honestly, they get dramatic on public forums. Nobody calls suicide helplines for wrist-slashing poetry on Xanga; no one should be calling the Secret Service about this girl.

Then again, in idealism, I'm all about free speech, including the advocation of unpopular and controversial opinions, including this. (Though, of course "Kill Bush" is so short it can hardly be considered true advocation. I mean, "Fuck Bush," one word different, is written in practically every liberal forum in the country :-P). I wouldn't personally support them all; I'd just be fine with them being presented. Ideation is not necessarily a plan, and a plan is not necessarily an inevitable execution. (Once again, I draw to my suicide parallel: practically everyone thinks about committing suicide at some point, but true completions are thankfully rare.)

Censorship By Fear?

Urrgh . . .

14-year-old girl gets pissed off, writes "KILL BUSH" on her MySpace, thinks the better of it, takes it down-- and still gets hunted down and threatened by Secret Service agents.

She's fourteen, guys. That's not to say fourteen-year-olds don't know what they're saying-- but, honestly, they get dramatic on public forums. Nobody calls suicide helplines for wrist-slashing poetry on Xanga; no one should be calling the Secret Service about this girl.

Then again, in idealism, I'm all about free speech, including the advocation of unpopular and controversial opinions, including this. (Though, of course "Kill Bush" is so short it can hardly be considered true advocation. I mean, "Fuck Bush," one word different, is written in practically every liberal forum in the country :-P). I wouldn't personally support them all; I'd just be fine with them being presented. Ideation is not necessarily a plan, and a plan is not necessarily an inevitable execution. (Once again, I draw to my suicide parallel: practically everyone thinks about committing suicide at some point, but true completions are thankfully rare.)