From the Desk of the Director


Although I usually rely on my phone or Pecsok's iPad for electronic needs during rehearsal, there are occasionally days where I need my laptop in order to run things smoothly. This past Thursday happened to be one of those nights. While I am not using it, I generally leave it on top of the piano, or on a table near it, as I am walking around the room, jumping, "dancing," and of course helping other remove their clothi...I mean learn their parts. I know what you might be thinking: This guy trusts way too easily if he'd leave my laptop open in a room of Hawkapella members. Maybe you're not thinking that, becuase really, I have no idea who you are and you could be thinking a multitude of things while reading this such as, "Why is this guy trying to guess what I'm thinking?" or "Did he put a chip in my brain in order to know this?" But if you WERE thinking the first thing, you'd be right! So, here's a little insight into the mind of one of our guys, John White, and what he leaves for me to find at 12:30 A.M. in Notepad. Enjoy!


Deer Diree,

2day i woke up. That's where it all went wrong.

They were everywhere. Gays, straights, dragon-genders. I wasn't uncomfortable. Just alone. 
I walked to the kitchen and opened up the oven. Ah yes, the brownies I was making from the night before.


It suddenly hit me that i dont has kitchen. Who's house was this? And what state had I been in that I decided
to make brownies here? I don't even likes choclit.

I walked outside. I smelt the air. I reluctantly realized that this was the year 1823. Shit. Not again.

Of course, it wasn't actully 1823. But don't tell me tht cuz I don't know.

I looked at myself. I was disturbed for two reasons. The first was that I looked like a mess. The second was that I was
nowhere near a mirror.

But I digest.

Walking around, I decided that I needed a disguise. I had to blend in, or everyone would know i wsn't from 1823. They
couldn't know. Not this time.

I went to the nearest hattery. I picked up the third hat I saw. This one was from 1950. I set it back down and piced up
the next one. No. These were jeans. They didn't even have jeans back then. Back now. To the future.


Ah, Doc Brown, my other personality. I try to keep him contained, but sometimes he can't help himself.


I immediately left the store.


I hurried down the street.


Into the first open door I could find.


Run. Run to the back.


And it was too late.