I’ve decided to be very mad at my Theatre teacher starting right about… now. In a show of extreme immaturity, I threw a hissy fit because she refused to let me perform a certain one act of my choice, titled Love Poem #98 (by Regina Taylor, if you’re curious). Mind you, it was very well written, and falls under what you would call “powerful”. I would think that she would appreciate good art, but she would not accept it on the basis that it was not “appropriate” for all audiences. She just didn’t like it because it happened to include a phrase or two along the lines of a nine year old getting raped and a guy trying to carve his initials into a girl’s chest and whathaveyou… I think she’s just extremely squemish. Can’t stomach that kind of thing. Well, guess what, honey, you’re in the theatre business. And if you’re okay with doing La Cage aux Folles, you gotta learn to be okay with doing a one-act about a chick who’s had an… interesting past. Just saying. By the way, if anyone manages to get an online copy of the one act, I would love it if you could send it to me somehow.
