Humorous Monologue For Girl
I'm so screwed, lol. I keep wanting to re-write my monologues as something completely different. I wish the judges could have just come to see my Year 12 Group Production and judged me then :P I feel like nothing I write will really show enough range, or come properly under their categories of 'humour' and 'serious'. I wrote the humourous one, but it had little range or dynamics... Hmmmm. You know what? I think I'll just do a Gwenda monologue. I reckon I might count it as humorous and then write a more serious one. After all, when you listen to Gwenda, you can't exactly take her seriously ^^" Oh, but.... Gah, I don't know! Dx I wish I had time to like, write ten monologues, perform them all to my old Drama class and get them to tell me which two to do :P Independence sucks, lol!After the audition, I've got a scholarship application to do ASAP, and then I've got to figure out what on earth the vocal group is going to do about the Speech Night performance. No one's free on the same day, lmao! So yeah, after that I'm done with this shiz! :P
I barely slept AGAIN last night, since I was nervous about preparing for the audition on time. I just kept tossing and turning for like hours O_O However, the advantage of this sad situation is that I slept very lightly and therefore remembered many of my dreams! It was quite an adventurous night.
The first adventure was where I was like a younger me, and I was being hunted by this scary, scary guy through a jungle. It reminded me of the movie Gray Man, possibly the most horrifying thing I've ever seen :P Fortunately, I somehow managed to get ahead of the man and I came across his creepy sacrificial site, which was a dry, stony riverbed covered with huge words in capital letters saying, 'BLOOD', written in fresh blood, over and over. The dry riverbed then became a huge, surging waterfall (the water came out of nowhere, of course) and I had to jump down it to escape. Unrealistically I survived quite easily, turned into a lion cub and swam down the river to safety :P
Next up was a dream I'd already had before a couple months ago after having like a marathon of Alias, lmao! Basically, me and Sydney Bristow were like, besties or sisters or something, lol :P But she was really sick and was quarantined by the CIA, who for some reason wouldn't allow her to have any medicine. So I stole some medicine from the CIA and gave it to her. She realised that someone had betrayed her and had purposely tried to kill her with this illness, so we got this huge gun in a guitar case and threatened people with it so we could escape :P
Good ole' Syd had a plan, but she would only tell me one step at a time so that she would be the only one our enemies could torture it out of. Pretty selfless, I thought. Anyway, we went through all these places making deals with all these weird, shady characters (it's long and comlicated so I won't get into it), all the while getting pursued by the cops, the CIA, and some of the general public. Unfortunately a side-effect of the medication Syd took was that she'd have random total loss of memory, so she'd suddenly be like, 'Who are you, where am I?' at extremely inconvenient times :P Eventually we got split up after having a close shave with some cops who'd seen us as we left after making a deal with a blind old man who could never stop writing psalms with a calligraphy pen. I didn't know what had happened to her, but I knew the next step of her plan so I ran across a heap of rooftops (which was difficult, cos they were all slanty corrugated iron) and came to this old house.
When I came inside, it looked like some sort of butcher's-- there was meat hanging from the ceiling and sawdust on the floor. A little girl leant on the counter watching a guy cut up some meat. They pretty much ignored me, so I headed on through to a door. I was about to open it when the guy spoke.
'I won't stop you,' he said, 'as I have orders from my master (He was talking about the calligraphy man; all of the deals being made were gradually building up to what we really wanted.) to let you do what you wish.' He stopped cutting up meat and turned to look at me, wiping his knife on his filthy apron. 'You're Syd's girl, aren't you. How old are you?'
'Seventeen,' I replied. (Even though I'm 18 in real life, lol)
'That's how old Syd was when she was turned,' he replied. 'What are you doing all this for anyway?'
'It's better if I don't know the whole plan,' I told him, 'but my friend needs it done. It's very important to her.'
He laughed, and the little girl laughed with him. 'How fortunate she is to have such a loyal pawn. How do you know she's not just using you?'
This accusation that I was somehow an ignorant fool kind of offended me. 'I don't care what she thinks of me; even if she's using me I still want to help her.'
'Ha! What has she ever given you? What you see behind that door will change you. You'll wish you'd never seen it. You're doing this, for what? If this plan of hers destroys you, what will come of--'
'I said I don't care,' I insisted, turning to the door and yanking it open. Inside was a dark, rank, small room with boxes and shelves around the place. It looked like a horror film set. There was something dead in there.
'Wait,' I gasped, closing the door. 'Wait a second.' The butcher man raised his eyebrows with amusement. But then I remembered, 'Even if she doesn't care what happens to me, even if I do all this in vain, my friend owes me nothing, because I'm repayed by the memories we've shared.' (Yes, it got very lame, lol :P) 'I want to do this.' So I opened the door again and went inside. the butcher foced the door shut behind me, and I was plunged into almost total darkness, accompanied only by the terrible smell. Well, I felt around for a while until I felt something sort of sticky and gross. Squinting through the dark, I realised I was looking at the half-rotted corpse of a woman in a very old-fashioned, once extremely beautiful, rich gold dress. Her left eye had an emerald set in gold instead of an iris, and I knew this was what I had to find.
For some reason I had a small box with me just the right size for an eyeball, and fortunately the dream did not make me watch myself gouge out this eyeball but rather skipped to when I came out of the room with the eye in my little box.
Ok, this dream didn't seem so horrible until I wrote it down O_O I'll just tell you with less detail that I then had to bust Syd out of jail, then she got all the eyeball off of the emerald and gold, which turned out to be a ring. In the end, the person who'd tried to kill her was some guy who loved her but felt like he couldn't marry her without this fancy ring. Since he couldn't get the ring, he tried to kill her. How logical! Oddly enough, they lived happily ever after. Oh my god, my dreams are creepy.
I had more dreams last night, but I think I'll stop talking about them now and get to work on this monologue business ^^"
Please don't judge me; I never think about such things in waking life, they just rock up in my dreams ^^" I'm not creepy, I swear! Dx
Erm.... bye ^^"
…was set right at the epicenter of the storm that was the Japanese occupation. it was about a girl named Amadea (cool name), whose husband went off to fight in the guerilla movement while she was left manning the household, caring for their sick child and infant boy, and worrying about her husband being gone, hoping he will return alive and well, at the very least, and not abandon them like her own American father did. Despite the questions surrounding her abandonment issues with her father, she was still hoping that they’ll someday be reunited in California, like he “promised”. while waiting for any news of her husband, a psychic instinct suddenly came over her that made her realize her father might be dying at that very moment, and thus, through her father’s “ghost”, she confronted her father issues and finally had her closure. in the end, her husband came home alive and well as hoped, bearing vials of the precious meds their sick child needed.
that plot was divided into 3 acts that went for 2 hours, and was told in a way like how grandmothers tell a story. based on the majority of grannies in attendance, i think this was actually their story to tell.
only lola’s story of how she and lolo met could make the unruly kids stop bouncing off walls (just to clarify: a generic lola, not my lola). of course in between that there’d be anecdotes of how they hid from the Japanese, how they were almost caught, how they used to swim at the lake out back, how they chatted and flirted with the American “Joes”, until they met lolo and had a family together, and thus here we are talking about it. we kids would usually drift off around the part where they start romanticizing about the old days swimming in the lake or eating chocolates and learning English from the American “Joes”.
i think it went on too long because of the expositional anecdotes added to the first act monologue. in fact the whole first act was a monologue. at first i thought lopping off the first act monologue altogether will make the plot tighter, but it would be disrespectful of the memories of our lolos and lolas so i think it could still work if there were other secondary characters with “special” participation (as in not necessarily realistic) in the anecdotes.
minor comment as well to the script: it was in English but it would add more local flavor if there were some Bisaya expressions added to the exaggerated Bisaya accent in humorous parts of the script. i think the lolas in the audience would also appreciate that.
i figured the play was probably about the playwright’s mom, since his sister was in the audience and introduced herself during the Q&A. she told everyone how some scenes actually happened in real life and that she’s thankful to her brother that he staged it this year, their mom’s centenary. how sweet. a lot of relatives were in attendance as well, reaffirming their participation in scenes that depicted parts of their family history. they even mistook me for a granddaughter to which i slowly retreated from (“ohnohnohno, please don’t pick me, i have a phobia for graded recitation and socializing! shit!”). it suddenly turned into a family reunion, grannies reminiscing about the occupation, stuff like that. it suddenly made me miss my Sprite-loving, Heno de Pravia-smelling lola – very, very forgiving, caring, deeply pious but stern in a non-manipulative, non-authoritarian way, like no other lola could ever be.
(sorry, i just made my review all about me again. i needed to put a spin to my last paragraph somehow. honest! it made me vividly remember my lola again.)
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