Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus

So I just finished reading “Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus.” Here are my thoughts on that:

If I could sum this story up in one word, it would be “Misery.”

This book was published in 1818, and was written by Mary Shelley, wife of Percy Shelley, a famous poet of the romantic era. Mary was nineteen years old when this book was published, and it is one of the most famous, timeless novels in history. Amazing. I am seriously jealous of this girl. I mean, as a writer, I find myself very, very jealous.

I honestly didn’t know what to think going into this novel. I saw that it was less than two-hundred pages, and so thought that it would be an easy read. I was wrong. The language in this book is amazing, and while I understood most of it, I found myself occasionally reaching for my dictionary

Anyway, so I knew that this book was a classic, but I didn’t realize what that meant. Seriously, this book has stood the test of time–200 years and still relevant. Also, it’s nothing like the Frankenstein we grew up with. The whole thing is just a mind-blower. Anyway, I really recommend this novel to anyone who hasn’t read it and can handle its eloquence.

I also want to turn this into a movie. . .


Kit Fox vs. The Skunk (Part 2)

Last we left off, I was engaged in a vicious battle with “The Skunk”. . .

The two of us squared off against each other, my back to the wall–actually, door. Tony’s door. His razor sharp claws had just missed their mark when I elegantly dove out of the way, beautifully planting my face (and body) against the door. Drool dripped from the mouth of my foe as he prepared another strike. I had dropped the rake during my expertly executed dive and now found myself unarmed against a deadly (smelling) enemy.

“Prepare to eat dirt, Fox!” his breath was as stinky as the rest of him, and I found myself feeling nauseous when he spoke.

“Silence, foul beast! Your terror ends here!” I took my battle-stance, known as Downward-facing Fox, and readied my strongest defense. He leapt at me, fangs gnarled and dripping with slobber. I rolled onto my back, swinging my legs at my target–his face. THUNK! Contact. My heels smashed into his soft, furry nose like a wrecking ball into a sack of pillows. He didn’t stand a chance. His chin snapped back and his body flung forward, colliding with the backside of my legs, then he fell to the ground, Thump.

“Ye-eah! Who’s yo’ daddy now Skunk!” I stood triumphantly over my fallen enemy. “You mess with the Fox, you get a steel-plated heel to the nose! Hurts, don’t it!” My jests were for naught though, since the Skunk was out cold. Oh well, the life of a superhero is an anonymous one. That’s why I have this blog–to tell all of you about my heroics and whatnot. Anyway, after saving the neighbourhood, I returned to my den and resumed my slumber, where my dreams were filled with skunks. . . which I skillfully annihilated one-by-one. It was a good night.

Groupthink Repost: Excerpt from EoN

Sylas looked up at the sign hanging above the doors, The Raging Bull, “Interesting name for a tavern,” he chuckled to himself. Dekar ignored him and stepped through the swinging doors, Sylas caught them before they swung into him and promptly followed his brother into the building. They were immediately struck with a blast of heat and noise and the smell of roasted potatoes. Sylas had forgotten about his hunger, and the scent reminded him of the burning in his stomach.

The tavern was filled with people, all talking and laughing in good humour. A few people were laid out, stone-cold drunk in a corner near the fireplace. The brothers walked over to the bar to take a seat when they heard someone call their names in a cockney accent, “Sylas! Dekar! Is that really you?” They looked and saw a middle-aged man walking up to them. He had a full head of long, untamed, rose-coloured hair that curled around his cheeks. He had the belly of a drunkard and dark, stained teeth. The brothers exchanged glances of embarrassment.

“It is you! Dekar! How are you old friend!?” the fat man spread his arms out for a hug, but was met with a boot to the chest–Dekar’s.

“Who are you?” his voice had a hint of irritation.

The man coughed and regained his stance, albeit wobbly, “You don’t recognize me? I guess I can’t blame ya’. It’s me, Lit’l Goby.” The name seemed to strike a nerve with Dekar. Sylas looked to his brother.

“Do we know him?” Sylas didn’t recall the name.

“Goby? What happened to you? You’re. . . old. . . and fat.” Dekar eyed the fat man suspiciously.

“Of course I’m old, it’s been nearly thirty years since ye last saw me. I thought you two were dead.” he slurred his words and had to lean on a nearby chair to keep his balance.

“You know him? I don’t get it, Dekar who is he?”

“It’s lit’l Goby. Mrs. Russels boy.”

“You mean that little red-headed boy we found drunk in our house that one ti–oh. I guess that makes sense.” Sylas looked at that drunk man who stood in front of them. “We really were gone a long time, huh?”

“Looks that way.” Dekar grabbed Goby by the collar and set him down on a bar stool. “Sit down you drunk bastard.” Sylas called one of the barmaids over and asked for three glasses of water.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try some of our famous Red Ale? Your friend here really enjoyed it.” The barmaid smiled a flirty smile at Sylas and stepped in close to him.

“Yes, I’m sure. The water please.” Sylas gently pushed the barmaid off of him. She was an attractive young girl, with supple breasts and long, golden locks. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen years of age, and before, Sylas would have graciously accepted her advances, but the shock of seeing someone from their past in such a pathetic state held his mind elsewhere. The girl left with a sneer to fetch the water. Sylas turned back to his brother, “What are we going to do about this?”

“First, we’re going to sober him up. Then, we find out what happened while we were gone.”


In response to: Daily Prompt

Poetry by William Wordsworth

Since the poems by Blake were so popular, I thought I would give you guys a little more poetry. All these are from The Longman Anthology of British Literature Volume B. I had to read these for my British Lit Class, and since the book is like 1500 pages, the paper is so thin that I couldn’t highlight or write in it, so I’ve spent the last hour or so typing them up from the book on a school computer. Since I would lose the data anyway, I figured I’d put it up on here. Enjoy!

Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mod when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it griev’d my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trail’d its wreathes;
And ‘tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopp’d and play’d:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made,
It seem’d a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If I such be of my creed the plan.
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?


Song (“She dwelt among th’ untrodden ways”)

She dwelt among th’ untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A Violet by a mossy stone
Half-hidden from the Eye!
—Fair, as a star when only one
Is shining in the sky!

She liv’d unkown, and few could know
When Lucy ceas’d to be;
But she is in her Grave and Oh!
The difference to me!

Strange fits of passion have I known

Strange fits of passion have I known,
And I will dare to tell,
But in the lover’s ear alone,
What once to me befell.

When she I lov’d, was strong and gay
And like a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath the evening moon.

Upon the moon I fix’d my eye,
All over the wide lea;
My horse trudg’d on, and we drew nigh
Those paths so dear to me.

And now we reach’d the orchard plot,
And, as we climb’d the hill,
Towards the roof of Lucy’s cot
The moon descended still.

In one of those sweet dreams I slept,
Kind Nature’s gentlest boon!
And, all the while, my eyes I kept
On the descending moon.

My horse mov’d on; hoof after hoof
He rais’d, and never stopp’d:
When down behind the cottage roof
At once the planet dropp’d.

What fond and wayward thoughts will slide
Into a Lover’s head–
“O mercy!” to myself I cried,
“If Lucy should be dead!” 


Three years she grew in sun and shower

Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.

“Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse, and with me
The Girl in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.

“She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs,
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.

“the floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend,
Now shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.

“The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her, and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.

“And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her virgin bosom swell,
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.”

Thus Nature spake—The work was done—
How soon my Lucy’s race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene,
The memory of what has been,
And never more will I be.

The world is too much with us

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Composed upon Westminster Bridge, Sept 3, 1802

Earth has not anything to shew more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

It is a beauteous Evening

It is a beauteous Evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea:
Listen! The mighty Being is awake
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder—everlastingly.
Dear Child! Dear Girl! That walkest with me here,
If  thou appear’st untouch’d by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham’s bosom all the year;
And worshipp’st at the Temple’s inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.

London, 1802

Milton! Thou should’st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is fen
Of stagnant waters: altar sword and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! Raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life’s common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on itself did lay.

I wandered lonely as a cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:–
A Poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.



My heart leaps up

My heart leaps up when I behold
A Rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a Man;
So be it when I shall grow old
Or let me die!
The Child is Father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

Surprized by joy

Surprized by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—Oh! With whom
But thee, long buries in the silent Tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind–
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

Song (“A slumber did my spirit seal”)

A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seem’d a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion she has now, no force
She neither hears nor sees
Roll’d round in earth’s diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

Two Poems by William Blake


O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.


Love seeketh not Itself to please
Now for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

     So sung a little Clod of Clay
     Trodden with the cattles feet.
     But a Pebble of the brook,
     Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please
To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in anothers loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

Kit Fox vs The Skunk!

Last night, in the dead of night, there was an epic battle between two supers: a Super-Hero, and a Super-Villain. The Super-Hero of course was Kit Fox, and “The Skunk” was the foul-smelling villain. Between these two enemies raged a battle of disastrous proportions that overloaded the scent glands of every person in a one-block radius. I tell you, It. Was. Stinky!

It all began last night at about one-thirty in the a.m., after everyone had fallen asleep. In the dead of night, a foul creature stalked the yards of innocent civilians, desecrating the very ground it walked on. This creature is one of the stinkiest villains that I have ever faced. “The Skunk” isn’t your ordinary villain. He doesn’t do what he does for money, for power, or for anything really–other than the pure, unaffected HATRED of all that is sweet-and-pleasant smelling. I first noticed the appearance of this dreaded creature from the window of my secret identities bedroom when a stench maliciously floated it’s way into my nostrils. How noxious! At first, I thought I was under attack as I awoke unable to breathe. After inhaling a large breath of the most disgusting gas I have ever inhaled, I realized that I was not the one who was being attacked–at least not directly. Instead, it was the entire neighbourhood in which I made my den, also known as “The Fox Hole”.

I swiftly leaped to my feet in response, donning my Super-Hero Costume and assuming the identity of my alter-ego, Kit Fox. After the five minutes or so that I spent searching for my boots, first in the closet, then under my bed, beneath my desk, inside my dresser, on top of my desk, in the drawers, and in the bathroom, I finally found them behind the toilet. I suspect one of my feline companions was behind this prank. Finally, I headed outside to face my foe.

There he was standing in the yard of one of my neighbours a few houses down, “The Skunk”. He didn’t notice me, which was a good thing, but not unexpected since I am a master of the stealth-based martial-art, Ninjutsu! He arrogantly continued spraying the furniture that sits in the front lawn of my neighbour Tony. Poor Tony has been through a lot lately, what with his wife leaving him, so waking up to this was quite a shock for him. He cried. I could here him sobbing like a baby in his bedroom.

As the Skunk was spraying Tony’s unsuspecting garden gnomes, I prepared myself to strike, readying the nearest object I could find as a weapon, a rake. While the Skunk was distracted with the destruction of the gnome family, I struck–a miss. He must have heard the rake at the last moment and performed an incredible dodge-roll. He turned to face me, bearing his sickeningly yellow fangs, “Kit Fox! How did you find me!?”

“Your stench. I could smell you a mile away, Skunk.” I wittily replied, “Say Bon-Jour, Smelly!” He tried to respond with something smart but I didn’t let him. CLANG! The rake struck the ground and the Skunk was gone. I looked around me. There! but it was too late, his iron claws were aimed right at my face as he leapt through the air at me.

to be continued…

1/27/14 – First day of School

Today was the first day of the new semester. This is my fifth semester of College, meaning that I am in my. . . Third year! My, how time flies. So after last semester, where I took College English and Elementary Spanish (and worked a lot), this semester is a little different. This semester, I signed up for five classes, four of which are English classes. If it’s not obvious, I am an English Major as of the end of last semester (before that I was a Theatre Major). My class list consists of the following classes:

Spanish 2: I’m so nervous about this class; I forgot so much of the Spanish that I learned last semester. This is definitely going to be a challenge, but I know I can overcome it. This is going to be the heaviest class that I’ll be carrying.

Critical Thinking (Critical Analysis of Literature): This class is definitely the big gun of my English classes. We have six essays, and on the first day of class, I’ve already done forty pages of reading. This seems like it’s going to be a super-fun class though, and I can’t wait to meet whatever challenges it presents me with. The best part is that my professor is hot in a Sarah Connor (from Sarah Connor Chronicles) sort of way.

Creative Writing: Sadly, I’m not actually in this class yet, I’m on the wait list. However, I am first on the wait list. Unfortunately, none of the petitioners got into either of my other two classes, so I don’t have much hope for this one, which is too bad because I already bought the books. . . What with the Novel I’m writing and this blog, I really want to get into this class. Looks like I’m going to be lingering for the first few days until someone drops.

British Literature After 1800: I am SO EXCITED for this class! The reading is kind of a lot–I have five books for this class (which isn’t so bad on it’s own, but coupled with three other English classes, it’s a pretty heavy course load). To explain why I am excited, here are a few titles that we will be reading this semester: Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and several others. I can’t wait to start this class tomorrow!: I’m not really sure what to expect from this class, however the books. The best part is, it’s the same professor as Critical Thinking.

Literature During the Renaissance: I honestly don’t know what to expect from this. The books look interesting, and I have six of ’em. I literally have a box filled with books for this semester under my bed.

Living in California

Living in California is–quite frankly–bitter-sweet. Here, I went to the beach today (in the winter) to go for a run with my wife since the power was out in like half of Huntington Beach and the Gym was closed. So, we rode our bikes to the beach and ran along the board walk. While running, I found myself thinking about how much I love California, but then on the way home (we took the bike trail that runs along the river trail that separates Huntington Beach and Costa Mesa), I remembered that I can’t wait to get the hell out of here. So, here is my list of pro’s and con’s about living in California:

Since I like beginning things on a positive note, I’ll start with a pro, then rebuttal with a con.

1. (Pro) The beach is literally within walking distance of my house, that’s pretty rad. Their are so many great things about the beach: watching sunsets, beautiful, half-naked girls EVERYWHERE, events are always happening there (today was a coca-cola advertising event where people rode a bicycle that was linked to a calorie-counter/vending machine [it was pretty neat]. However, I thought it was a poor way to advertise, since it basically showed how BAD coke is. Spend ten minutes busting your ass on a bicycle, only to completely wipe away all your hard work by drinking a coke. Seriously, whoever thought of that is an idiot. Although, it was still a fun time for everyone involved.), and there is always something to do, surf, body-board, tan, go to the bars or restaurants, go shopping, etc.

2. (Con) While the beach is great during a warm California winter, I highly recommend staying the hell away from the beach during the summer. When it’s hot, the beach FLOODS with shoobies–tourists. These people are the worst. Now, I understand the appeal of bringing your family to the beach when you live nowhere near it, but these people have no idea about beach-courtesy (yes it’s a thing). Example: Today, the beach was pretty crowded, not summer-crowded, but crowded. Looking around at all the people, I noticed something. Most of these people were locals, and the beach was clean. The thing is, locals respect the beach, but when summer comes around, there is such an abundance of trash. Really, it makes me think of that advertisement where the Native-American sees someone litter, then cries. Yeah, it’s like that. Basically, during the best time of the year, the beach sucks.

3. (Pro) There is EVERY kind of restaurant in California. There is such a diverse group of people living in Orange County that we get to experience the best foods. On my block alone, there is an Old-Fashioned American-style restaurant, a Mediterranean joint, a Vegan hut, a Japanese restaurant, an Itallian Restaurant, a Subway, and a frozen yogurt bar–just on the block that I live on, and no, I don’t live next to a food-court.

4. (Con) I have to say it: the traffic sucks. Now this may be a little biased due to the fact that I was hit on my motorcycle by an idiot who ran a red light, but SERIOUSLY. People are stupid when they are behind the wheel of a car, and when you throw thousands of idiots into a small area, people get hurt. I live near Adams and Brookhurst, two major streets in Huntington Beach, and there is at least one accident on our corner every month. Now that I’ve experienced it, I look out for stupid drivers, and I’d say about 1 in every four drivers I look at are texting while they drive. This is a MAJOR reason why California, or probably any major city SUCKS.

5. (Pro) There is a lot of opportunity in California. It’s true, people come to California to make it big, and sometimes it happens. With a lot of hard work, and some luck, California is the perfect place to be if you want to be successful. Although, I hear New York is pretty good too.

6. (Con) There are too many people. Have you ever heard of the book: The Disposable American? It’s kind of like that. Now I’m sure it’s like this throughout most of the United States, but for most workers, they are treated as disposable, replaceable, like a machine–if it doesn’t work the way you want it to, then you can just toss it away and get a new one for cheaper. That’s basically how it is here. There is a lot of work, but you have to be willing to demean yourself and be someone’s bitch. I know lot’s of people with Bachelors degrees or even Masters degrees who work in grocery stores. It’s not right.

7. (Con) Not to sound preachy, but there is a lot of sin here. Crime runs rampant in California. You can’t leave your car unlocked ANYWHERE. I don’t even feel safe leaving the windows cracked. Bikes are stolen on a regular basis. Gangsters hang out in places like Downtown Huntington Beach where they get drunk and attack random people. Speaking of that, since there are a lot of bars here, there are also a lot of drunk people out at night–every night. Huntington Beach is also known as DUI City because of all the drunk drivers. Just last week, there was a girl who was jumped by a group of drunks in Downtown Santa Ana for accidently walking past the camera while they were taking a picture. She died a few days later. I went to LA one time, and had a gun pulled on me. I haven’t been back. Most of the cities around here are run-down and full of drug-addicts or drunks. Seriously, not cool

Overall, I have come to the conclusion that I want to leave California. I’m going to finish out my school here and when I can afford it, I’m going to leave. I hear good things about Washington and Texas, maybe I’ll move out there. Who knows, if my plans for self-employment work out, maybe I could work and travel. California isn’t that bad, and there are a lot of amazing people here, and a lot of fun things to do. Maybe I’m focusing too much on the bad stuff. There’s always Disneyland.

My Review of “The Children’s Hour”

Okay, so I have to write this while it’s still fresh in my mind. I wanted to do it last night but frankly, I was exhausted by the time I got home, so I decided that sleep was more important. Now though, I am totally ready to write (mostly because I have nothing else to do).

So I saw a live performance of “The Children’s Hour” last night at the Newport Theatre Arts Center in Newport Beach, and I now regret not bringing home a program for the performance. The show was about three hours long, give or take, so it took some endurance to sit through the whole thing. The fifteen minute intermission was a good chance to get up and stretch though.

As for the show itself, here is how it goes:

SPOILER WARNING (If you don’t know the plot of “The Children’s Hour”, well then too bad, because this show came out like a hundred years ago)

The show boasts a decent size cast, however the main characters are limited to about five.

MARY: Mary is a little girl who is quite fond of telling lies. She begins the show with a small lie about why she was late for class, then proceeds to tell bigger and bigger lies as the show progresses. By the end of the first act, she has set something big in motion. Mary is definitely the main Antagonist and driving force in this play. In this PARTICULAR production, the part was expertly played by a young girl (whose name I don’t know because I forgot to grab a program…) Honestly, I hated her. I wanted her to get killed during the show. She made me so angry, and I mean all of this as a compliment to her talent. This girl did a great job, and she must have been like twelve years old.

KAREN WRIGHT: Miss Wright is co-founder and teacher alongside Miss Dobie at a private boarding school for girls. She first enters the scene with great confidence and authority. She courteously greets each of the girls, and they all seem to love her. She is shown to be very patient, but stern, which is emphasized when she gives Mary her punishment for her serial lying. However, when throughout the course of the second act, we see her slowly lose herself. I got into a debate with one of my friends whom I saw the performance with about whether or not her detachment was a character choice or the actors inability to show emotion. Either way, I thought it worked. I felt like as the shit kept piling up on her plate, she lost more and more of her sanity until she was barely able to feel anything, which finally broke at the end of the play when she couldn’t hold it all in any more. She did a great job, and she wasn’t bad to look at either. Very well cast, and acted.

MARTHA DOBIE: Miss Dobie is Co-founder and teacher at the same private boarding school as Miss Wright (alongside her aunt who is an annoying yet comical character throughout the play [think: JarJar]). From the beginning, she is obviously Karen’s sidekick. I just want to say, I liked her. I liked the character and the actress. From the beginning, she had me interested in and believing her character. My friend (who I debated with) agrees with me on this: She was the A+ Actor of this show (not to say that the other actors werent good). Her performance was delicate, emotional, and passionate.

DR JOE CARDIN: Joe is Mary’s cousin and a Doctor. He is engaged to Karen, and comes into the show with a lot of energy. I really enjoyed his performance–about as much as Martha’s, but for different reasons. His character, for most of the play, is the biggest positive character in the show. Always with a smile, he comes into every scene confident and happy. I particularly enjoyed watching him get progressively more drunk during one scene where he downs like five glasses of whisky. Playing drunk without going overboard is very difficult to do, so kudos on that.

AMELIA TILFORD: Amelia Tilford. Mary’s Grandmother. I think the actress did a good job playing her, but this character was another character whom I just HATED. In the first act, Mary runs away from the school to her grandmothers house where her grandmother attempts to send her back. During her attempts to convince Mary to go, Mary ends up telling the lie that sends the entire plot spiralling out of control. Amelia foolishly believes her granddaughter, and proceeds to ruin the lives of the teachers, Miss Wright and Miss Dobie. This character has a royal stick up her ass, and I think the actress did a marvellous job playing an old woman with a stick up her ass. The fact that I hate her so much must be a good sign.

There were also several other characters whose parts weren’t quite as large, but each one was played excellently. In fact, I want to make a special shout out to the girl who played Rosalie, who I thought did a wonderful job playing an innocent little girl who is manipulated and tortured by Mary.

Overall, I enjoyed the show. My Wife enjoyed the show. And my friends enjoyed the show as well. If you haven’t seen “The Children’s Hour” before, I highly recommend seeing this version of it. The area where the theatre is in is VERY nice, overlooking Newport Harbor. The building itself is quite nice, and the theatre, though small, is clean, fairly comfortable, and perfect for a show this size. It’s quite obvious that everyone involved worked their asses off to make this show a reality, and I think they have succeeded in bringing it to life. The show runs until February 23rd, so if you haven’t seen it before, you should definitely check it out. The show was a Broadway hit when it first came out, and has remained popular ever since. It is a classic, and a piece of American Theatre that carries deep meanings and insight into the human psyche. I did however, have a few problems with the script, but that is probably just from the fact that it was written eighty years ago.

This would make for a great date, but is definitely something I wouldn’t bring a child to. The theatre recommends 18+, I kind of agree. It’s not too harsh for a 16 year old, but most teens wouldn’t be able to appreciate it.

Divinity Chronicles: Emissaries of Night

When the town of Celtis is invaded by a party of orc raiders, Sylas and Dekar must fight to protect their home, but when the enemy proves too much for them, they are rescued by a dark being who restores them to life and bestows them with dark powers that twist their bodies. While their wounds heal, they are mentored by priests of the dark god, and trained to use their newfound abilities so that they may become champions of the dark god. However, these two brothers have different plans. With the destruction of their home town fresh in their minds, they set out to get revenge against the orc raiders who invaded their home and their lives.

After leaving the priests, they discover that much more time has gone by then they thought, and find themselves in a rebuilt Celtis, with completely new inhabitants. Their hatred is not quelled after learning that the orcs were eventually defeated and driven back to the Blue Plains, and so they decide to take the battle to them, but first, they need an army. With the righteous fury of revenge over the loss of their friends and family driving them, an evil deity lurking in the shadows, looking to collect a debt, an army of orcs at the border, and an unknown darkness flowing through their bodies, Sylas and Dekar struggle to keep their humanity while surrounded by malevolence.

This post was inspired by Daily Prompt: BYOB(ookworm)