diyahart-blog

[diyahart-blog]

Because it’s more entertaining to ruffle your feathers?

I am serious about my jello.

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I am done for the day. Gonna go home and curl up to some Kitchen Nightmares.

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Jut trying to solve your dilema. I guess I will go through the day without any food in my system. If only I had so jello to help me make it trough the day.

You’re sitting in a dining hall, you got food all around you. Free, school supplied food. Don’t see why you need my jello when you can get your own just as easy.

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This time he rolled his eyes, grabbing the woman’s notepad off her desk and scribbled his school email address on it before sliding it back over. “There. That way you have it and I don’t have to hide when I see you in the halls.” He faked a smile before waving, leaving the room. 

Works for me.

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“Yeah I fucking know. Thanks for stating the obvious.” He got up, getting annoyed now. “Anything else?” 

Yeah. I’ll be sending the information for your first monologue to you through email. Just go on and write yours down, slip it into my inbox.

Don’t think you can get away with not leaving it for me. I’ll hunt you down and give you a physical copy if I have to, and I will not be happy about it.

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He almost rolled his eyes. Of course she wouldn’t let him off easy, he never expected that but to expect this much from a student who didn’t give a fuck about plays? Seriously? He sighed heavily. “No offense but I don’t even care about plays. I’m not auditioning for shit except for the tree. And I’m definitely not doing any monologues.” 

Probably should have thought of that before going around punching people, man. Doesn’t matter if you don’t care. You did the crime, now you’ve gotta put effort into giving back to the community. Headmaster’s not gonna approve any other alternative for you, it’s up to the discretion of the teacher. The one that caught you breaking rules decided this would be your punishment. You’re stuck with me.

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“.. Yeah. Sure. Look, I’m not an actor by any means so if you could just put me as ‘the tree’ that would be great. “

Not a chance. Look, i’ve got rules and i’m not about to bend them so I can cater to your rule breaking ass.

Here’s how this is gonna work. I don’t let anybody who doesn’t know what the hell they’re doing onto my stage for a proper performance, you’re gonna have to do monologues in preparation like everybody else. And then, you’ll audition like everybody else. And you will be graded and given a role under the same expectations as everybody else.

[diyahart-blog]

alexander-stan:

He walked into Ms. Hart’s office, slightly annoyed because he knew what was going to come. With a sigh, he sat down and looked over at the woman sitting quietly in her chair. It was odd to see her so quiet but he didn’t care. “I’m assuming you know why I’m here.” 

Huh... I’m gonna guess that you’re Alex, and you’re here to talk with me about the community service you’re gonna serve in my department.

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              “Yeah, I’m good on Friday – but that’s not saying that I’ll stay or keep coming or whatever. I’m just going in to have a look, if I think it sucks, I’m out. If not, well, then…we’ll see when it comes to it.”

Sweet.

[diyahart-blog]

             “Right. You know, if the card is still on the table, I’d like to take you up on that offer from the other day…you know, with the whole drama class thing– I’m just watching though. I’m not going up on stage or hitting anyone with fake swords or whatever the hell it is that you do in drama.”

For real? Awesome.

Of course, don’t gotta join if you don’t wanna, invitation stands either way. You got a spare the period after lunch, Fridays?

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              “Thank you,” Kenna said softly, drawing her hand back to her own. It was still bloody, and the sight made her sick. Nevertheless she did as she was told and dressed her hand accordingly. “You do this often? Picking out glass pieces out of student’s hands?”

Not this specifically, no. Whatever a student needs my help with, though. So far that’s been everywhere from Math tutoring to picking glass out of their hands.

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             “Touche.” Kenna did as she was told and moved as little as she could. Which proved very difficult considering every part of her wanted to cry out and snatch her hand away from the other woman’s. So her distress was expressed through rambles. “Is it out yet? Are you finished? Does it usually take this fucking long? Are you done? Is it bad? I don’t wanna look…”

... You’re good. Go on and make use of that disinfectant, wrap your hand up however you like. Not a bit of glass left to hurt you.

Breathe.

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              “Sounds like you need insurance just to go to class. Is there like a contract that you have to sign? The school is not responsible for any student deaths in drama class? – ow, shit…okay, just, be gentle…”

Nope. It’s just something you do. They don’t make you sign a form for gym class, right? But you can get pretty hurt doing most of that shit, too.

You know I will. Not a single bone in my body that wants to cause you pain, girl. Just hold still, it’ll take just a minute.

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           Kenna held out her hand for the teacher’s inspection. “What do you do in theater that’s so dangerous? Read your script to death?”

Usually it’s stage combat, movement or fighting scenes that are most hazardous. I got stabbed in the side once when my partner swung the sword a bit too close. But any number of things can go wrong, really. Set pieces can break, lighting can fall, shit like that.

Your hand’s not too bad, but you got some smaller pieces of glass stuck pretty deep. May I...?

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          “Don’t be, too many people are ‘very sorry�� for me already.” Kenna looked down at her hand and winced. She never did do well with blood. She looked up at the drama teacher, and gave her a small smile, “you’re not squeamish around blood are you?”

Not at all.

Something they ain’t never mention about theater- You can get hurt. You can get hurt bad. Gotta be used to the whole blood thing. Here, let me have a look.

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           “No it hasn’t occurred to me,” was her retort. Though she wanted it to sound as sarcastic as she could, it came out a lot more sincere than she meant it to. Kenna didn’t exactly have the luxury of surrounding herself in pleasant company. “I guess I do deal with some pretty fucked up people then.” She said, trying to pick the flakes of glass out of her hand.

In that case, i’m very sorry.

You sure you don’t want any other help with that?

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            “You want to help me? Why? I’ve been nothing but rude to you. You know, most people would probably just leave me to bleed out. Not that I blame them, I’m not exactly the most pleasant of companies, I admit.”

You must deal with some pretty fucked up people on the daily if you’d be less surprised about having an injury go ignored than getting any help from somebody. I don’t know anybody who would wish that kinda harm on someone, even if they don’t like them so much as a person.

that you shouldn’t have to owe someone something, or be on good terms with someone, to receive some kinda help when you need it? Not that we’re not on good terms, I don’t got any idea where you got that impression from. I don’t expect you to be immediately friendly with me if that’s not how you are with anybody else. Ain’t no reason I should be getting any special treatment.