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Acts of Kindness
Orikaeshigitae
Registered User, ClubPA regular
Registered User, ClubPA regular
Let's keep this story train rollin'.
When I was in high school, I was incredibly shy and awkward. Somehow I worked up the nerve to audition for the yearly musical which the arts departments staged together. This was the whole reason I'd attended this school instead of another: I'd been really interested on acting, but never had the guts to try.
I didn't get a part.
I tried again next year, this time with more success. I snagged a lead part - Jacob, Joseph's father, with the dreamcoat - with just a five-measure solo, but I didn't care, because I was doing what I'd wanted to. Offstage, I was still an awkward misfit, even with the other stage kids, but onstage i knew the right words to say and exactly what to do with myself.
A week before the play was set to premiere, the stage manager and director (one of the drama teachers, someone we all respected) broke down and cried. She blamed herself, she said, for not being a better leader. We weren't professionals, so we couldn't be expected to pull through in the clinch like one. We had all been having too much fun and not practicing enough. Unless things turned around, we would have to cancel production. We were collectively heartbroken.
We had already been practicing most days after school, but for the final stretch we went all out, sacrificing our lunch hours and weekends to spend every free minute rehearsing. After the dress rehearsal, the manager broke down again, but this time for a different reason. I still remember how happy she looked.
But the icing on the cake happened at the wrap party, after an entirely sold out run. Someone had spiked the punch - I think one of the music teachers - and we were all having a great time. The stage manager appeared, moving quickly through the crowd with a box of party favours and a jumble of balloons. She handed one to me, pointing at it and smiling before disappearing back into the crowd. Mystified, I pulled the balloon down and looked it over closely. She had written a message on it in Sharpie. It read:
"to Karl - thanks to your hard work, you were the best Jacob anyone could ask for. I'm so proud of you."
I still have that balloon, somewhere.
What do you remember with a fond smile, SE?
When I was in high school, I was incredibly shy and awkward. Somehow I worked up the nerve to audition for the yearly musical which the arts departments staged together. This was the whole reason I'd attended this school instead of another: I'd been really interested on acting, but never had the guts to try.
I didn't get a part.
I tried again next year, this time with more success. I snagged a lead part - Jacob, Joseph's father, with the dreamcoat - with just a five-measure solo, but I didn't care, because I was doing what I'd wanted to. Offstage, I was still an awkward misfit, even with the other stage kids, but onstage i knew the right words to say and exactly what to do with myself.
A week before the play was set to premiere, the stage manager and director (one of the drama teachers, someone we all respected) broke down and cried. She blamed herself, she said, for not being a better leader. We weren't professionals, so we couldn't be expected to pull through in the clinch like one. We had all been having too much fun and not practicing enough. Unless things turned around, we would have to cancel production. We were collectively heartbroken.
We had already been practicing most days after school, but for the final stretch we went all out, sacrificing our lunch hours and weekends to spend every free minute rehearsing. After the dress rehearsal, the manager broke down again, but this time for a different reason. I still remember how happy she looked.
But the icing on the cake happened at the wrap party, after an entirely sold out run. Someone had spiked the punch - I think one of the music teachers - and we were all having a great time. The stage manager appeared, moving quickly through the crowd with a box of party favours and a jumble of balloons. She handed one to me, pointing at it and smiling before disappearing back into the crowd. Mystified, I pulled the balloon down and looked it over closely. She had written a message on it in Sharpie. It read:
"to Karl - thanks to your hard work, you were the best Jacob anyone could ask for. I'm so proud of you."
I still have that balloon, somewhere.
What do you remember with a fond smile, SE?
Orikaeshigitae on
0
Posts
I have a vague feeling there were some good ones.
Getting awarded my first patent was a big sense of accomplishment.
Secret Satan 2013 Wishlist
i was maybe 4
he died this year
Secret Satan 2013 Wishlist
JordynNolz.com <- All my blogs (Shepard, Wasted, J'onn, DCAU) are here now!
That time?
You've only had it once!?
booooo
and I am jonesing for some cola
seriously thinking about driving to a school the next town over, because that is the only place I know that'd still be open at this time of night and has a vending machine
Years ago I was a contract IT tech for a company. Contract techs were not allowed any of the benefits/perks of being fulltime, and although they tried their hardest they couldn't budget me a real position. I worked my ass off anyway
After about 9 months of supporting this one particular high-priority project, they had a neat event celebrating its completion. I was invited and decided to go. During the party, they gave out awards to the employees who did really awesome shit and I was standing in the back having a beer when the Vice President calls my name and says "We aren't supposed to do this but this guy deserves an award for all the work he did supporting this project" and some more words that I don't remember
So I got an award I wasn't supposed to, a plaque and a bonus. It was pretty awesome. Then things happened and I had to find another job because the company was "slimming down"
PSN - MicroChrist
I'm too fuckin' poor to play
WordsWFriends - zeewoot
Secret Satan 2013 Wishlist
I am
humanity's median
those were simpler times.
The Adventures of Average Man!
Secret Satan 2013 Wishlist
Probably still shit today
PSN - MicroChrist
I'm too fuckin' poor to play
WordsWFriends - zeewoot
a very good year for posts
Fond memories of some thundercat reruns.
But being a work/school day, my parents were elsewhere. I didn't have a license, much less a car at that point, so I started calling relatives because goddammit I wanted my dog back. The only person who picked up their phone was my grandpa.
Backstory: my grandpa Jim, my Dad's Dad, was kind of a dick. A bit of an alcoholic, former Marine, boxer, die-hard Catholic sonofabitch who at that point was spending his retirement from bricklaying drinking Tanqueray and Squirt, fishing for walleye, harassing my grandma and his other grandkids (whom he lovingly referred to as Brats), and watching hockey on his big screen TV.
I was a bit nervous because though he was the one who taught me almost everything I knew about mechanical things, he was a bit rough, and the idea of being called Brat Number One for the next two hours as we went to fetch my dog was a bit intimidating. But I wanted my damn dog back so I said yes, come get me, I'll write out directions.
He picks me up, I spend the next hour not speaking and listening to AM radio as grandpa grumbles about "damn dogs" and "silly Brats" etc. Get there. Get my dog! Glory glory hallelujah, I have my dog back! And the lady even gave his rank ass a bath so he smelled like baby powder and dog slobber, instead of just slobber and whatever he'd been rolling in.
Corral the dog into grandpa's car, shout thank you at the lady, and proceed to snuggle my pup, oblivious to much else. As we pull out of the lady's driveway, grandpa turns to me and shoves a previously hidden half-empty package of hot dogs at me, gives me the biggest, happiest grin I'd ever seen on his face, and whispers "Don't tell your Grandma".
It was one of the last moments I had with gramps before he passed later that year and I am still so happy I had that moment of bonding over a man/lady and his/her dog.
Finally my father rips the blanket off of me and goes off on a rant about how lazy I am, and how I'd just feel better if I got off my ass and did something.
So I get up, muttering under my breath about what an asshole he is and make my way to the garage to get the wrench he could have easily gotten himself like 2 hours ago if he wasn't such a lazy piece of....
My heart stops.
Sitting in the garage is a cherry red 1970 Oldsmobile 4-4-2. Next to it is a GIANT PILE of parts from Year-One. Across the garage is one of those cheesey letter banners you make for kids birthday parties "Good Job Not Being Dead"
That was pretty awesome. One of the few times my Dad actually went above and beyond to do something fuckawesome.
Yep.
JordynNolz.com <- All my blogs (Shepard, Wasted, J'onn, DCAU) are here now!
well
after years of wanting one i finally got a cat some time ago
other than that nada
An old-school badass
My fondest memory was when everyone here got Alzheimer's.
I don't remember that at all.
I don't remember that.
EDIT: Fuck you Rank.
Also fuck you Rank.
Secret Satan 2013 Wishlist
I'm young and rather boring
I think some of my closest friendship moments with anyone have been on this actual board, in terms of support regarding various problems, but nothing particularly fond stands out. A few parties with friends were great times, but not really a fond moment.
And that's not fond at all.