In “Farmer Refuted” Ham and Seabury go from simply trying to block their audience’s view of each other’s hands to actively slapping each other’s hands down mid-sentence
King George doesn’t deign to sign. He has the ensemble sign for him and gets pissed at how with each reprise there seem to be fewer and fewer ensemble members there to translate.
everybody’s name signs corresponding with their musical leitmotifs
everyone breaking apart to sign their own parts in “Non-Stop” in a beautiful visual explosion like I am dying just thinking about this
AGGRESSIVE CABINET BATTLE SIGNING
“The Room Where It Happens” being all about being shut out of conversations and decisions, there’s some new subtext to “hold your nose and close your eyes” because you can’t sign while holding your nose and you can’t watch others sign while closing your eyes
Phillip not being able to complete the “sept huit neuf” with Eliza because his hands are going limp as he dies and Eliza actually screaming
Burr’s signing in “Your Obedient Servant” getting more and more angry along with his writing, the syntax of which also changes until “Weehawken. Dawn. Guns. Drawn.” matches up exactly with Burr signing the words–he’s sick and tired of translating every thought into perfect English, he’s tired of signing less and smiling more, he is 100% done with this shit
during Ham’s final “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory,” it’s not just the music that drops out, it’s the English translation. that’s right, y’all, HAMILTON’S FINAL MONOLOGUE IS ONLY IN ASL
at the end of it, he sets down his pistol prop and makes the ASL sign for “gun” AND RAISES THAT SIGN INTO THE AIR
WHEN ALEXANDER AIMS AT THE SKY, BURR IS STILL HOLDING HIS PISTOL, SO HE CAN’T SIGN HIS “WAIT”–HE HAS TO SCREAM IT WHILE THE ENSEMBLE SIGNS FOR HIM
for all the emphasis put on “who tells your story” and “being a part of/erasing myself from/putting myself back in the narrative,” there isn’t much explicit mention of speech and I think that’s beautiful
I have way too many feelings about this fictional production okay
my favorite college experience is when i had a 7am class and the kid next to me literally poured a monster energy drink into his coffee said “i’m going to die” and drank the whole thing
i knew a guy who brewed his instant coffee with monster instead of water. three cups in two hours. i think he ascended to the astral realm
the survivability of the human race never ceases to amaze me
TABI ANECDOTE
My final year I lived with engineering masters students. One night, I’m finishing up my final paper, I’m juuuust backing up my final copy, and my housemate’s cat knocks a vase over onto my laptop.
Which wouldn’t be a problem except my cable had been chewed on (thanks Kobe), so the wiring was exposed. Circuits short out, I fling myself back to avoid electrocution and by the time we get the situation handled, my laptop AND my external hard drive have been fried by the surge.
I mean, fried. Like, they-are-vaguely-smoking fried.
I start to cry, because there goes fifty percent of my final grade.
Ahmad just goes “it’s okay, we will fix”. I’m like “how the fuck do you propose that?” And he’s like “I have spare laptop.” “THIS IS DUE IN THE AM!”
And he looks me dead in the eye and goes, “I said I will help. Go get the laptop.”
So off I go. By the time I make it downstairs, there’s this chemical /reek/ in the kitchen. I go in and there he is, methodically crushing caffeine pills with the bottom of a glass on a ceramic plate, periodically dusting the powder into a cooking pot. Meanwhile, his coffee pot is chugging away on the counter.
As I watch, he takes the coffee pot, empties it into the cooking pot, lets THAT come to a boil and dumps in some of his Turkish coffee, AND the remaining caffeine pill powder, which by now is starting to look uncomfortably like coke.
He lets that steep, and by now the coffee/burning smell is so strong it’s woken up all six of the other housemates, who have all come downstairs and are vacillating between staring at my laptop and at this concoction with undisguised horror.
He pours this sludge into a mug, stirs in about four /tablespoons/ of sugar and slides it my way.
I figure that I’m probably dead either way regardless, so I suck it back, filtering the grounds through my teeth as I go.
I’ve had three sips when it hits, and I feel my heart trip on a beat. I must have gone white cause he nods, all pleased, and points me at his laptop.
Long story short, I got an week’s extension, didn’t sleep for five days, had a conversation with my BLINDS in SPANISH, and got a B+, with a note that it was an “engaging read and well-written, when intelligible”.
To this day, coffee any stronger than a pale off-beige makes my chest hurt.
I honestly thought he was going to drink the coffee and perform was magic on the laptop but.. nope. even better. Honest to god, I really want to know how that conversation with the blinds went.
Bruh. BRUH.
This is so real. LMFAOOO
I’m concerned for all of you. You at least shortened your life by ten years.
I hate to use a Mad Max reference but WITNESS ME. -chugs monster and takes midterms-
My minor is in Chemistry.
I collect chemistry glassware.
I figured out how to triple-distill and vacuum-extract coffee to raise the caffeine concentration 20-30x.
The first time I sampled a mug of the end product, I didn’t sleep for 2 days and was convinced that I could feel air molecules.
Peggy Carter descends from the skies in a ray of glory and light while angels and soldiers sing her name and she stops in between Tony and Steve and says, “No.”
I find it fascinating that people who choose not to have children are generally assumed to feel really strongly about not having children (or even to feel really strongly against children, anyone’s children, in general). I am probably not going to have children, not because I REALLY REALLY HATE the idea of having children, but because I don’t really really love it. Out of all the major decisions I will make in my life, this one is the only irreversible one. I can sell a house, quit a job, divorce a spouse, whatever. I cannot unhave a child. I cannot opt out of being a parent once I become a parent. I can’t even take a step back for the sake of self-care or whatever, or else my child will suffer.
So for me, having children is fuck yes or not at all. The default will be to remain childfree. Having children should be an opt-in decision, not an opt-out one. Until/unless I develop really strong feelings about wanting to have children, I won’t have them, even if that means I never end up having them at all.
