Yeah-but

Yesterday when I came home, besides wanting to drop off immediately, I also felt this weird uncomfortable gut feeling. Well, not exactly uncomfortable. More like, sad. Helpless sad. Cant-d0-anything-about-it sad. I realized as i was writing, no struggling, to write that last answer, on that stupid paper, that it was the last time I would be studying drama. Its just...I know i can always read plays, and watch them and all that. But.
I miss my classroom discussions. Or even telephone conversations. Even if we are trained to think only in terms of question answers. Not all the time though. Yes, so I know i 'yeah-but'. But look at it this way. There arent too many things that can get me excited or enthused. I shall miss yeah-butting. Somehow I cant picture myself yeah-butting press laws.
Plays are so much more real somehow. I love poetry too, but that is such a personal thing. If i like a play, I'll talk about it to everyone till they get tired of it. Poems, I'll consider who I'm talking to. Maybe its the live thing that works. When i'm reading it, I'm always seeing it as well. And thinking sets, and costumes, and where would someone stand, and what colours could be used. And who would play what. Its happened so many times that I have met people who would be perfect for some role, random people totally.
But then, I like being taught as well. Even if I learn nothing new, its amazing how what you think can be said by someone else in such an exciting way. And there's so much more life to it. I already said that i think. Oh, i cant explain it. I'm just not done with it. (Whine, whine)
Ah, anyway.
These are the last plays I saw and liked: Macbeth, Intro, Kangal Malshat, Homecoming, BroadwayBound, Evita, Feriwala-r Mrityu. I wish I could link them all.
These are the plays I want to see performed: Look Back in Anger, The Glass Menagerie, Pygmalion, The Caretaker, The Birthday Party, Ghosts, Dr. Faustus, What Where, Rock 'n' Roll. Oh and so many more.
Anyway, its raining now. So i shall presently try to stick my head out of that infernal roof cover in such a manner that i can catch the raindrops on my face without breaking my neck.
Oh, and I'm also attempting to put one of those online library things on my blog. Keep looking. Funny, how you cant remember the names of books you've had for years. The pressure is too much. I have more books.

Have you ever noticed how noisy women are? Have you? the way they kick the floor about, simply walking over it? Or have you watched them sitting at their dressing tables, dropping their weapons and banging down their bits of boxes and brushes and lipsticks?
I've watched her doing it night after night. When you see a woman in front of her bedroom mirror, you realize what a refined sort of butcher she is....

You've got to be fundamentally insensitive to be as noisy and clumsy as that...Slamming their doors, stamping their high heels, banging their irons and saucepans--the eternal flaming racket of the female.
- Mr. James Porter, age 25, a lost cause.
(Ouch! *wince* But you know, its all true.)

I may be a lost cause, but I thought if you loved me, it needn't matter.

(And i shall be quoting again. I would quote the entire book if i could. But i wont. You will read it for yourself if u want to do something meaningful with you life. Or if you simply want to get mindfucked. I dont care which. Just read it.)