Sunday, March 7 & Monday, March 8

Sunday
My friends Wil and Ryan and I started in theater together. I'd been a line-less dancer in Bye Bye Birdie, but my first speaking part -- and Wil and Ryan's too -- was in Tom Jones, the spring play. I played Partridge, the narrator, barber and companion of Tom -- which was the biggest part, by number of lines. I forget what parts Ryan and Wil had, but it was our first time on stage, speaking, together. And this was the last time we'd all be on stage together. So we took Sharpies and made our mark on the stage in a spot where so many other seniors had before.

They painted over it soon thereafter. For the first time for years. I was so angry.

But here, on this day and page, it's a celebration. I wish I knew who wrote some of this, particularly the writing in green. Damn that non-waterproof ink!

There were two teachers in the play, and with my hair grey (from white shoe polish, believe it or not) and my deep voice, I was mistaken by many people -- including the art department's secretary, who knew me well -- as one of them.
The note that ends with "(SCHRANK)" was written by Mr. Eisenbacher, one of the history teachers; the other was a first-year teacher fresh out of college who played the social worker.

Mr. Eisenbacher was in his mid-40s, I'd guess, and had never been in a play before. He really got into it, though, and took it seriously. He asked me for advice on more than one occasion. I didn't think that much about it; I would have done the same for a freshman. But as thanks, he gave me a coffee mug. I was touched.

Monday
This secret writing wasn't secret enough -- I scratched it out so even the people who figured out how to read it couldn't. What did it say? It's written right there -- at some point later (college maybe?) I read through the scribbles and translated most of it. I couldn't quite make out the second to last word. It's pretty sensitive stuff, so it's not that surprising I wanted to hide it -- especially considering what happens tomorrow.

This wasn't even the depth of my infatuation with Gaby. It was baaaad.

Kind of like these drawings of doors.