Didn't get a play in today, and may have to cool it on my personal challenge for a bit. I've way too much else to do, but I'll try to hunt down the recommendation from Ms. Jen S. in good time.
Still have to write a paper due for Thursday, and this evening during my puppetry class I found out that I have to be moved out of my halls by Saturday morning. I had thought I had till next week. Like with so many other things recently: I was wrong. Things in this country have been kind of crap as of late, and I actually feel as though the nation is conspiring to repel me from this island (though with the consistent heat and noxious humidity, conditions are perfect for a New York summer, so it that respect I feel right at home). It's not all bad, though--at the very least, I do have somewhere to move to, and a lovely flatmate to cook Mediterranean inspired meals with. My God, but there will be dinner parties! And the best part about the flat I'm moving into: a double-bed. Hello feelings of adulthood: my goodness, but I've missed you.
Ignoring that final statement, here's part of Where the Wild Things Are, as interpreted by myself and two cohorts through the medium of shadow puppets. Those who know the story will hear a distinct narrative cock-up. Forgive it, please: it was a rehearsal, and he's Canadian.