Tuesday, October 21, 2003

College Drama Class

For my final in Drama 1, I was assigned a scene, and a scene partner. Can't remember his name -- we'll call him John. John is playing my adult son. I've got to be all over-protective mothery to him, and he's got to be fighting it, trying to snip those apron-strings and be his own man.

Our Drama teacher has us do some written work to accompany the performance. A lot of this is touchy-feely techniquey stuff in which I do not believe. This doesn't mean I can't fake it. (Cause I'm an actress, right?) So, I easily write up the ten-page paper in which I discuss, among other things, my character's "theme song," the childhood I've made up for my character, the deep dark experiences from my own life (all made up) which I've used to help me get in touch with my character's deep dark experiences, and all the other things that I considered to be just so much bull.

One day, the teacher took the class on a field trip to the zoo. I couldn't go. The next day I show up in class, and discover that, at the zoo, everyone found their character's animal. We were then directed to partner up with our scene partners. We were told then to play our scenes as our animals without talking.

Ooookay fine. I'm thinkin' fast. Need a character animal for an overprotective mother. OK, I'm a lioness. Yes siree bob. I drop down to my hands and knees and start padding over to John. I'm pulling him over with my paw and trying to pet him or do whatever the hell lionesses do with their cubs. (Hey, I missed the trip to the zoo. I'm improvising.)

John is being extremely unhelpful here. He's not letting me pet him or cradle him or protect him from evil. Every time I reach out my paw (arm) to pet him, he jumps out of the way and runs to the other side. Then he runs back toward me, and moves away again when I try to pet him again. This is very frustrating to Lioness-Me, so I pad on over to him and open my mouth so's I can bite him by the scruff of the neck and put my damn cub between my front paws where he damn well belongs. John darts away again. This is not very cub-like.

Our teacher is adamant that we not speak to each other, but John finally animals his way over to where he can whisper in my ear and asks, "What animal are you?"

I whisper, "A lioness. What are you?"

John falls on the floor in giggles. As the class turns to stare at us while I try to contain my leonine composure, John gasps, "A fly."


andreakingme said...

Thanks for that laugh. I needed that!

pegluh said...

That's some messed up breeding you've got there.

musenla said...

har har. i actually inhaled some coffee up my nose while reading that. fun-nee!

writerslive said...

Really funny! I'm enjoying your journal, you're definitely a writer, keep it up!