Mirror-mirror and David Duchovy

Today I went to my very first acting exercise.

Rhem snagged me a spot on his alma maters college theater workshop, where he is a member and so-called mentor.

First things first: I don't think i'll be an actor.

I did okay for my first try. I did a lot of stuff that surprised even myself, though half the time I was worried about shouting so much that I would hawk out some phlegm (I had a nasty cold). I did this one exercise called "three rooms" which was well received. The instructions were to see something pleasant in one room, great in the next, and fantastic on the last.

I envisioned getting into the Laker lockers room and succeedingly watching Kobe Bryant, Shaquille O'Neal and then Luke Walton in the shower.

They thought that my reaction to the first was pretty good, that I rushed the second, while the last was absolutely "fun", "fresh!", "wonderful" and "realistic".

Because of that, virtual strangers wrote something nice to my "backstabbing paper".

The last time I had the backstabbing exercise was at a leadership seminar in high school. I got plenty of responses, even though they all synonymously said "weird" and "she's okay."

I didn't get as much people to sign my back, but so far three people think i'm talented, one said I was "sure of myself...hehehe" and the rest remarked that I was "fun", "friendly", "nice", and a rather surprising "mukhang mabait!"

Dude, is it the face? Because the people at the Tagaytay Workshop kept referring to me as "the sweet little thing"...though not so much after I yelled at Perds. Then it became "don't mess with the sweet little thing".

The most interesting thing though was the two person touch exercises that we did.

I ended up being partners with this really cute kid whom a lot of girls thought was hot. The magic of beging selected was due to an exercise where I yelled at a group of people that I had no tits but my ass looked great from a motorcyle.

And he was a cute kid, and what dumb luck that most of the exercises included writing each others names with our fingers on our backs and our entire address (country and zip code included) on each others tummies and inner thighs.

And what a wonderful flirt that kid was too! You can tell that he's done a lot of trolling on weekends.

In between some serious letter writing--where he hung onto my leg because I'd suddenly become "ticklish" (Ha. Ha. Ha.)-- he looked at me with those doe eyes and asked me my year and major.

And stupid me actually told the truth.

I told him I went to another school, that I was done with college, that I was a frigging psych major.

He smiled and said he was a freshman from a small international school majoring in Drama because his entrance exam was too low.

And just for pities sake I told him I was turning 24 next month...and watched the light die in his 18 year old eyes.

Bitch.

Not that I would have gone for this fucking child but did it have to feel like we were seperated by a couple of milleniums?

Suddenly, the people from One Tree Hill are all younger than me. The NBA draft are all a bunch of high school kids. I have a life, a job, an insurance policy...he didn't watch the X-files because he was fucking six years old when it debuted!

On the next two exercises he was so nice and accomodating that he should've just called me Gran.

WTF?

This was the first time I ever felt my age. Ever. People often mistake me for a college freshman or sometimes even a junior in high school, but dammit, since when did 24 become ancient!

I think all the bands are beginning to sound like Maroon Five. All the shows are about teenagers and their hyperbolic angst. I actually disapprove of what some of the high school kids are wearing and I have no idea what a Nokia 6600 is.

Please, just one thing: let me be the cool mom who knows how to program the entertainment system and hack into her kids computers.