10/11/2001 - 12:44 a.m.

I wish to go to the Festival.

Details on monolouge performance pending. For all of you with baited breath (ewww, worms!): I didn't forget anything, and I didn't mess up, and I didn't even get freaked out. I didn't have an audience, but that's a secondary thing. I don't suppose I did well, but I was good enough for me. I went in and did just what I wanted to accomplish, which was to make me look MUCH more rehearsed than I was- and I did. So... let you know Saturday afternoon.

The One Act was exactly 30 minutes- not 35, not 45, 30. Shortest ever- and that's the time it's supposed to run in actually. Impressive. We've got a television station wanting us too now, T says, so who knows...

Rode back with T and Brett (who was basically dead in the backseat). We ended up talking about my scholorship auditions tomorrow- I'm doing an interview, which means that I just have to print out some of my work and be prepared to look and talk cute and intelligently about it- I hope. One of the judges is Glawe. There are five prizes, five Roosevelt students auditioning... I think I see who ought to get them. Maybe one of us will, and it'll be Andy, Phoebe, or Jimmy. I wouldn't mind if it were Andy or Phoebe.

I shouldn't be so mean to people.

I'm tired, I need to go to bed. I have to be at school at 7:15 tomorrow and I have to iron my clothes (mmmm...) and print out some work, so...