I am attempting to write a four-page paper about atrocities committed against the Hungarian Gypsies during World War II. It's pretty interesting/horrible to read about, but I don't really know what else to write except a long, long list of the horrors that went down, and then a blanket statement of disapproval. Nothing too revolutionary. I mean, everyone disapproves of the Holocaust, right?
On a related note, I got invited to a Passover Seder tomorrow night by a cool kid in one of my classes. He warned me that he has his own style of Seder, but I'm cool with that. I'm actually really excited because I wasn't planning on doing anything for Passover at all, seeing as how celebrating it alone would have been really depressing. Though I would have enjoyed all the latkes I might have made for myself.
I know latkes are not traditionally eaten at Passover. Shut up.
Funny story: last week I was talking to the this guy in my screenwriting group, who is a really cool kid, I really like him. He reminds me of a version of my brother, like maybe the version David would be if he had grown up in Utah. Or if he weren't related to me. Anyway, I have no memory of how this line came up, but Taylor at one point turned to me and asked, "Isn't it kind of crazy that of all the students at BYU, in our 15-person writing class there are TWO JEWS?"
I laughed quite a bit at that. I also shared it with James (he of the Passover Seder, who is also in my screenwriting class) via facebook. Social networking is such a convenient way to share jokes and compliments with others. It means I don't have to remember the funny or kind things I hear about others for very long before I can report them. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Yes.
Sego is in my car in the Law Building parking lot. I ought to go check on him, seeing as I have another paper to write before I can go home.
Today I discovered that at BYU, I can get away with pretty much anything if I act like I know what I am doing. Today I took Sego into the JFSB, milled around in the hallway with my Middle English acting class for about twenty minutes, walked to and through the Maesar Building, and then practiced our play on the front steps. All with a dog. Upwards of one hundred people, I would estimate, saw me doing this, but because I held my head high and acted confident, no one questioned me.
My plan, if someone were to question me, was to say he was a trained theatre dog. But like I said, no one did.
This tempts me to begin a life of crime. Just walking into buildings, picking up expensive things and walking out with them, all the while swaggering like I own the place. I would never do that. But it's neat to think that I could.
I can do anything if I pretend I have permission. I suppose there's a lesson in that.