Kristen Mackie Monologue

Theatre has a different meaning for everyone who encounters it. Over the years theatre has given me a lot. It has given me an outlet, a way to express myself. In fact one of my mentors said that, “It isn’t about impressing, but about expressing,” and that really resonated with me, as that’s what I really believe theatre is about. Also, theatre has given me a safe place that I can always turn to. In addition, I have learned many life lessons through theatre, such as, dedication and work ethic. It has also taught me about the sanctity of communication and individuality. My most valuable high school memories and experiences have stemmed from theatre. When I look back on my high school years I won’t remember the classes I took and the grades I received, but I will remember the shows I participated in because they have shaped the person I have become and have been some of the most impactful moments in my life.

Above all, I wouldn’t be where I am today without theatre. Without the chance to perform throughout my life, I would be disconnected from the wide array of communities and histories that’s been imbedded in my daily routine. Unfortunately, it’s speculated that the theatre is a dying art form, because of the expanding popularities of movies (“Is”), but I think that it’ll remain a well renowned part of expressing imagination and interpreting history as years pass; it only takes cooperation with school faculty and young students that go above and beyond to change their

Ever since I can remember I have loved theatre. It’s been a constant presence, and an important touchstone, in my life. However, for as long as I’ve loved theatre, I have also been ridiculed for my enjoyment of it. As a child, my interest was tolerated as something precious, something I was bound to grow out of. My parents and teachers would sit in the audience, clapping and cheering me on, all the while thinking to themselves “I bet she’ll make a great lawyer one day.” They thought, like most of society, theatre was an unnecessary luxury; a pastime for the rich and powerful, for those who didn’t have to worry about putting food on the table, or clothes on their children’s backs. Certainly not

When your interest is as broad as theatre it’s almost impossible for your identity to not be represented. However, like many of my peers, I’ve struggled to find my identity and have floated between different adjectives for the past seven years. Luckily for me my love for Broadway guided me to a perfect show that let me know it’s okay to be confused about who I am.

Standing in the one hundred hallway, I look across the circle of my friends and I staring at Madison's face with the annoyed look on my face, like usual. Mackie’s standing there going on and on about how amazing her life is. Today the topic is about her clothes, and how expensive they are. By the outside appearance of Mackie you would think of her as a little, cute, innocent girl, but she is very far from that. She goes on every day about how perfect her life is and never stops bragging. Okay, it's great she has a good life but she doesn't need to talk about it daily to everyone who don’t really care. You may have to get to know her to realize that she is a bragger thought, her physical appearance doesn’t show it as much.

Zoey’s last words resonated in Rheem’s head; she did have a valid point. Esto loved the ground Zoey walked on and he wouldn’t just leave her without a word, and even if he did he would have at least left Mike to wait for her. Instantly he got a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach; he didn’t fear for his boy but he was concerned as to what had been so important for him walk off without saying anything to him or Zoey. And the fact that he wasn’t back by now, told him that Esto may be in the process of fucking some shit up.

I appreciate the call back, earlier today. I have sent out a new check for Terri Clark. The new check number is #327964. It should be arriving no later than Wednesday evening or Thursday. Also, I the check for Linda Sowell was sent out in the same fedex envelope from Friday. If you need anything, just give me a call. Have a great day.

Again, I hadn't even given any thought yet to them either. How was I supposed to break the news to the rest of them? I reckoned that I’ll just have to come clean and tell them just like I had done with Marzie. But the thought of telling the rest of them that I’ll soon be leaving Saraland felt different somehow, harder. I knew it would be especially difficult with Tucker, who I had a feeling that deep down that fool was truly in love with me. The news of me leaving Saraland was probably going to break his heart, and for the first time since finding out about the money I felt sad enough to cry as I continued to think about how my life was about to change.

“Hello, my names Katherine Clark. I couldn’t help, but notice how amazing you did up there. Give me a call some time.”

As walked into the lunch room I saw in the corner of my eye Britney looking at me with hatred in her eyes. I decide to sit down at the other end of the table far away from Britney hoping she wouldnt bother me today. But of course she walks over to me and sits right next to me. Then she slowly started to simile but it was not like the happy kind of simile it was more like the evil kind. I knew instantly she was planing something. Before I could even ask what she wanted she graps my water and pours it on my head. Everyone started dying laughing and even some of the teachers started to laughing at me. Still laughing Britney says “ Why dont you go and kill yourself nobody cares about you so nobody would miss you.” She told me that every day and

Today has been an amazing day. I know this is unbelievable but the whole day I hanged out with teenagers. TEENAGERS!!!! I know right. How am I still alive? They are not actually that bad. Don’t worry they are not strangers. I’m giving them some money for a fund they are running and I told them about my visits to the zoo so I invited them. They are fun. I will tell you this, they have complete different personalities. Oh… I forgot to tell you their names, John and Lorraine. John seems like a rebel and a trouble maker to me. He’s like a lady man. I could smell the cigarette and alcohol on him but I didn’t want to say anything about it. I just figured he doesn’t have a good relationship with his parents and they probably don’t care. Lorraine is

Ryleigh offered me a weak smile as the realisation of what was happening started to sink in. It almost feels like her hand is getting warmer, when in fact mine was just rapidly cooling by the second. I was fading. It's almost time. I didn't want to go, and I could tell by the evident pain in her face that she didn't want me to, either.

Just as we cannot pinpoint the exact moment we learn our own names, I can’t recall when my love for theatre began, but it must have been around the same time. I don’t remember a time I hadn’t been fascinated by storytelling and performance. This childhood amusement only strengthened when I started going to school and we’d put on plays for parents, and started reading and discussing literature later on. To me theatre means the perfect alliance of performance, art and academics. It represents to me all the every-day aspects of life while also holding artistic value. My love for literature comes from my unwillingness to be bored.

I would like to stay anonymous for certain reasons, but I must confess something. Mrs. Mary Maloney was the one who killed her husband, Mr. Maloney. I am someone she has confessed to and it would be great if you did not tell her that I just said that. You see, I do not want to ruin Mary and I’s friendship, but I felt that I must tell you this. She told me over the telephone this morning to confess. Mary told me how her husband told her that he was cheating on her with another woman and how he was leaving her. She then told me that she went to the freezer to grab the lamb leg and hit him in the back of the head, causing him to fall onto the table and die. Then she told me that she was petrified for her unborn baby’s life and tried to cover up

Leaning against the far wall in the corner of the dim-lit room, I waited patiently for Mack to notice my - albeit sudden arrival but arrival nonetheless. The soft cotton of my blouse clung to the rough paint job that the wall decorated in many years ago. Splinters already were worming their way to nestle themselves further into my skin. As laughter danced and sprung from all around eagerly intertwining with the stagnant stench of tobacco and hormonal drunken filled lust. The pungent odour of vomit was too lurking in mixed with the sharp rap of alcohol, those two always were friends. The swift smashing of one of Mack’s precious lager glasses quickly turned my focus away from the drum of the music and towards the eruption that would surely follow.