Introductions

I know several people, at times I suspect that every one of them despises me, some of them I know despise me but I’m ok with it because I’m not particularly fond of them either. The people I expect to read this blog and my revered professors will be referred to by name, most others will be referred to by epithets (WARNING: epithets are subject to change at a moments notice (sometimes less)). I’m setting this down now so that I will be obligated to stick to it in the future when Svengali really starts attacking my work.

Anyway, let’s meet the leads:

Me: writer of this blog, dramatic writer, voice of judgment.
Gina: friend, fellow dramatic writer, directing Carpet of Leaves, voice of reason.
Aryana: the roommate, fellow dramatic writer, keeping cokehead hours without chemical influence, voice of dissent.
Amanda: former roommate, literature major, constant presence, voice of innocence.
Alison: former quasi roommate, literature major, often absent, voice of experience.
The Junior Dramatic Writers: the height of mixed-bagery (like The Village People I tell you), voice telling me to burn things.

Professors: voice from above.
Kathleen Tolan: renowned playwright, how can I miss you if you won’t go away?
Dean Bell: Beats? Classical story design? Coherent input? Advice from an advisor? Thank fucking god for Dean Bell.
Eric Mendelbaum: softens up a bit after a mental breakdown, but seriously Mendelbaum, what do you want?
J.D. Zeik: I agree with every criticism of him but I like him anyway.
Howard Enders: poor Howard.

Parents: voice from afar
Amy, my mom, my mother, Madres, Mumsy: well-liked despite a staggering bluntness, alive despite a staggering unawareness.
Eric, my dad, my father, Fadres, Mr. Sir, data monkey: like me but bald and inexplicably proud of me.

The thing in the vent: voice of the damned.

Why me? Why now?

I have decided to start a blog. My friend Aubrey inspired me. Aubrey, who those of you who are not Aubrey will not know, had the same internship that I did, has the same birthday as I do, is in the same major as I am (albeit more sneakily), and owns the same Shakespeare anthology as I are (the pervious word is abandonment of grammar and sense in favor of style). She is effectively me with pink polka dots. This is not to say that she has a skin condition that gives her pink polka dots it simply means that if you take me subtract everything that is antithetical to pink polka dots as an institution and add a comparable amount of essence of pink polka dots you would have an extremely puzzled Aubrey. She will be puzzled because to be alchemically created by a stranger out of a person you used to know is a fundamentally puzzling experience. If you reverse the experiment and create me out of Aubrey then (a typo was edited here) you will end up with a version of me that will be angry at you for destroying Aubrey.