Add that to the concert music and the 'Speare Fest and Anything Goes rehearsals and finals and math and my sudden urge to see Spider-Man, and the rest of the month is pretty much filled. Good. Staying busy is the key to success.

I know, I know. Keep on laughing. I'll wait.

Gilberte had a bit of a nervous breakdown after her French and IB Music exams and went into porcelin-doll mode for a little while. After being coddled and comforted by several people, she seemed to improve and headed onstage, so fragile, so brave, small and shivering inside a big felt coat. When I left, she was lying facedown in the wings being petted and whispered to. Very Bianca, the whole episode. Gilberte's the only person I know who can pull one off so effortlessly, to such an extent that it seems more natural to sympathize with her than slap her, which isn't the case with most people. It's uncanny, the way she makes herself seem so tiny and delicate; I've found myself feeling like her mother on many occasions. And the funny thing is, she's actually several months older than I am. Never mind that she's also about eight inches shorter, with Victorian spirals in honest-to-goodness red (not orange, mind you) hair, a little-girl laugh, a penchant for turn-of-the-century tastes, a tendency to beome physically ill after reading anything containing violence, and a general aura of innocence. Not the sort of person who seems capable of turning the traits to her advantage by means of deception, at any rate. Not that it was deceit... overemphasis is probably a better word. But she did it so well that the only thing to do was flock to the tragically trembling ingenue and start cosseting.

Actors.

Adieu.