Life's a Blur

I saw on a comment that moehawk's been missing my headlines. Well, I've been distracted lately. Not only have I been working, (as basil commented in the same post) but I have also been trying to memorize a lot of material in the last few weeks.

You see, I am in a play in a local production; it's a comedy called "The Foreigner", and I play an enthusiastic, naive, grumpy old lady who has a "foreigner" staying at her bed and breakfast for a few days. Everyone says I've been typecast.

Betty's the type to holler at someone who doesn't speak English, thinking that if she smiles and raises her voice, she will be understood much better. At one point, right after I have hollered at Charlie, the foreigner, I turn to another character and tell him Charlie didn't really hear me, but he understood me because we have an extra-circular communication going on. It's enormously funny in the play, but I got to thinking about how I act around students who don't speak English. (I'm a teacher.)

I remember a girl who had JUST moved to our South Georgia town from Mexico. Like three days ago. She didn't speak English; I didn't speak Spanish. Well, I could say. "Si, or Adios," but that's it. Anyway, Maria was a shy fourteen year old beauty with a winning smile, and I really wanted her to feel welcome in the US., so, every day I would greet her with a very loud south Georgia drawl, "GOOD MORNIN', MARIA!" (only it came out Murr eee yuh) and then grin from ear to ear, as if hollering would help Maria understand me better.

Well, that's what I am doing in this play...I am hollering and grinning...only a wee bit more exagerrated than I do in real life. Like I said, I have been typecast. Isn't it mysterious how the lines between fiction and non-fiction can blur?