Okay, this is a good week. I got to be a five-year-old in Acting class, I found out I got "A"s on both my history and Brit Lit test, and--best of all--I finally figured out how to get on the network (movies downloaded in *two minutes,* y'all--I'll never get to leave my room again) and got to re-organize all my music and video files with categories and sub-categories and sub-sub-categories.

That last part leads me to this: Hope Slaby, wherever you are, YOU WERE RIGHT.

She'll know what I mean. (Maybe. Think SAGE class, Hope. Got it? Really? No? That's okay.)

I have so many things that I want to post, but I've kept *so* busy this week I haven't had enough time to post. So, prepare for some jumbled thoughts.....

For some reason, the old game MASH popped into my head in choir class. Y'all remember that--the little game that was supposed to "predict" who you'd marry, where you'd live, etc? While it sounded great at the time, if I truly end up marrying Danny Rubenstein and drive home from my marine biologist job in a champagne colored Neon to my blue house with two kids, I think I'll drive off into that big ocean next to where we live.

My entire acting class today learned about how I was irked at Kovar for *not* being Lady Macbeth last year (I nailed the audition and the callback) because the same person that I did a personal bonding activity thing with also got to imitate me to the class today. For the record, I tell that story so much better than John.

I haven't found a better way to walk back to the dorm between classes than to run in circles in the snow while enjoying the radiance of the sunshine (which will probably disappear by Sunday, but has been hanging around for a couple days now).

Jennifer, your stickers are going out either today or [more likely by the time I get down to the mailbox] tomorrow. Gage the mail accordingly.

Whatever happened to Gage Parks? Sorry, the "gage the mail" just threw me off track.

The best parts of meeting Ben for open scene practice yesterday involved *anything* but actually practicing: ranting about Ben Affleck (and generally mocking of the movie "Daredevil"), mocking the dumb people on whatever MTV show was on at the time (something involving races and climbing around on cars to pick up plastic donuts in the fastest time), and being filled in ["by whom," says Mrs. Fye] about the secrets of the network, none of which I'll ever share with you croutons.

Macgyver's first name is "Angus." Really. Check it out.