the real DRAMA: Ahem...Correction:)

6 February 2011

Ahem...Correction:)

Hello Fellow Dramatics. Sorry I had to add the Nutella.

Ja'mapelle Camila-Or referred to as most people-Milla-Or my parents-Millie<--but nobody call me that.PLEASE.
I would like to start off by making a correction to Olga's post on the characteristics of people in the drama room. For anybody that has just started reading the blog,Olga described me as always standing in front of the mirror in The Drama Room,Hahaha YES maybe I spend a minority of my lunch brushing my hair or re-glossing my lips or curling my eyelashes (A.K.A - according to Rosarie its a torture tool) BUT I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE-Benny and Emma do tend to join me in front of the massively big mirror-and Benny has a vast array of makeup in her kit.Also like to point out the only mirror I have in my room is a 4cm by 6cm national trust one that I was given for my eighth birthday -so small that i can only see half my forehead and my hairline.Let me make it clear I do not spend my spare time admiring myself,What I do during the day is either make Emma and Benny laugh every 5 seconds by saying the word BOLSHKEIV-to which the response i get is Emma slapping her hand on her leg in hysterics and Reading-I have a pile of books so high on my bedside table its higher than my lamp (i have a rather tall lamp just to let you know):D

Oh P.S-Add to Megan- she does her odd foot dance flicking but also spends her lunch listening to EXTREMELY LOUD HEAVY METAL that has already damaged her young delicate tissue of her ear canal and messing up her hair and keeping it bed-head messy with hair spray ( that I can never understand).

Thank you Guys for hearing me out ..
I SHALL POST AGAIN<3
Kisses.
Love, peace and Topshop
Camila xox

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Candle in the Wind (first version)

Goodbye, Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled

They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on a treadmill
And they made you change your name

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to when the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid

And even when you died
Oh, the press still hounded you
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude

Goodbye, Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled

Goodbye, Norma Jean
From the young fan in the twenty-second row
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just a Marilyn Monroe

STILL I RISE

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

IN THE DRAMA ROOM

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6 February 2011

Ahem...Correction:)

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