Mawwidge is wat bwings uss togeffur today...

Normally I try to refrain from boldly stating my opinion about things I know nothing about. I state my opinion less boldly instead. But a bunch of things together are leading me to say something about marriage.

Namely, shut up, people who want to control other people's marriage in any way, shape, or form.

I'm not just talking about the whole Prop 8 debacle in California. I mean marriage is the decision and prerogative of the participants, but you'd never know it, the way other people won't shut up about it. Unmarried teen mothers! Reality shows! Gay people! Commitmentphobes! Your kids!

Shut up, reality shows! (My favorite of which is discussed here.) If the damn people want to get married, let 'em. If they don't, say it with me here, it is none of your business. None! At all! Doesn't affect you in the slightest! There may have been stigma about it back in the fifties, but it's 2009 now and nobody fucking cares! Except you! Who needs to shut up and mind your own damn beeswax already!

Shut up, science fiction! How many times must you re-use the plotline that it's just hilarious and, you know, terrifying, when they land on a planet of some sort, the locals throw them a party, one of our Heroes (never our Heroines) gets drunk, wakes up the next morning, and found he has been tricked into getting married! Hyuk hyuk hyuk! It's every heterosexual man's worst nightmare! He will HAVE to leave his wife and become a deadbeat, because she left him NO CHOICE. Shut up while I barf. I'm looking at you, Stargate, Enterprise, Firefly (and honestly, Joss, I expect better from you). Listen up, straight men of the world: you get married by going to a church and saying vows. If you don't want to get married, don't fucking do that. If your girlfriend is riding on you so hard that you are miserable and/or worried that she's going to roofie your drink and drag you to the altar, follow these simple instructions: 1) get the hell over yourself, 2) man up and either a) dump her ass or b) get over it and marry her ass. But this supposed fear that all women are altar-happy harpies is so tired that it passed out ten years ago and has been on assisted respiration ever since.

And yes, finally, shut up, people who don't want gay people to get married. Whose choice is it? Theirs. How does it affect you? It doesn't.

Grow up, people. Marriage is no longer a business transaction, an ownership deal, a death sentence (or even a life sentence), a hard-and-fast rule of living, a necessity, a job description, or any of your business! It's two people who want to hang out together and get a phone call and visiting rights if one of them gets cancer. Move on and grow up, and let's talk about something else.



It's my final day of a three-day weekend -- I know, technically Monday is a holiday, but I'm making my goslings work on Monday since none of them could work over the weekend, and so I took Friday off instead, and cleaned.

And yesterday, I read a romance novel about mermaids, instead of actually doing anything. And today, I'm going to go outside, into the brilliant 65-degree weather, and just relax as God intended. Even God rests on Sundays, people. (Okay, so actually God rests on Saturdays, but I rested yesterday, I just rested indoors. Today, God has given us sunlight, so He clearly expects me to rest some more. Maybe with ice cream, or a cold coffee.)

In other news, my play is getting more and more feminist, and I've gotta curb that impulse a little before it becomes a PSA about assault instead of a piece of theater. Because PSAs are boring and transparent, and theater is engaging and subtle. It would help if I had an assistant. But bah! I need no assistant. The whole point of this project is that I am to be marked on my brilliance, not my assistant's brilliance. So sooner or later I'll have to come up with something brilliant.


A Treat for All of You

Because I can't read this without sharing. It wouldn't be right.

From a link on another blog, I found a blog that copies out one-star reviews of classics of Western culture - music, films, and novels. Not old, boring classics -- we can't all love Aristotle -- but modern, interesting, thought-provoking classics. But here you can learn that:

The Godfather "was so violent I couldn't believe it! On a scale of 1 to 10 of the violence in this movie I would give it a 9!"

The Diary of Anne Frank "was really really boring. Its about some girl and her life- who cares!?! It is a total girly-girl book. Too dull to even care. I couldnt even pay attention to what happened to her, why it was so awful. Oh Well, NEXT…"

Abbey Road "is a really horrible album with a few of the most horrible tracks in here comes the sun. Don’t buy this awful album. go buy any joe walsh, dire straits, foreigner, guns n’ roses, green day, or nirvana insted."

The Princess Bride "is about two guys who are in a book and they’re fighting over a princess named Buttercup. But the problem is that one of them is a pirate and the other one is a giant! I know it’s supposed to be fictional…but come on! Even my suspension of disbelief is not that good, and I work with children!"

.... right. I ... don't think there's really anything I can add to that.

And with these I have not scratched the surface. After reading Huck Finn, one reader hopes that Mark Twain "doesn't plan on writing anything else." Another says Citizen Kane is "just like The Blair Witch Project." And did you know that Ingrid Bergman is "no Maryland Monroe"?

People have a perfect right to like or dislike whatever suits them, and I get that. About half the classics featured I've either never read or hated with a passion. But not with an ungrammatical or misspelled passion.

I know it's wrong to laugh at stupid people. But sometimes it's wicked easy.


Troilus and Cressida and Zombies

Troilus and Cressida being the lesser known Shakespeare I'm working on at the moment, and the zombie being me.

Honestly, I haven't been writing first because I went home, and had many more social engagements, many fewer minutes of free time, and very limited computer exposure. And since I've been back? It's mostly been stress.

(And the difficulty of beginning to write again after one hasn't for awhile.)

Part of me thought everything would be okay once I started directing again, but this is my first time working with "real" drama students, several of whom are more educated in drama than I am. And since I'm the only one getting graded on this project, I find it sort of thematically difficult to figure out how gung-ho I am allowed to be. All of which is a roundabout way of saying I'm really insecure about this whole thing, and wish I had as much confidence as I have ideas.

I do however have the benefit of a really interesting script (since it's edited by me) and a so far stellar cast. I mean, it's not performance time yet, but so far they've been lovely, both as actors and as people. Still I am insecure. Which makes me insecure about feeling insecure in the first place, and determined not to show my insecurity, which makes me more insecure.


So when not rehearsing, (and we're really not rehearsing very often yet) I've been mostly in my room, reading and watching old episodes of Stargate. (Allette described it thusly: "It has a cast of four: one woman, and three hot men" and so I decided to check it out. The writing is pretty bad, but I have kept watching anyway.) My reading has been mostly well-written, however. I've been rereading Austen lately, and heard that for those who wish she'd written more than six novels, a good second option is Emily Eden, and so I've started her Semi-Detached Couple. At chapter ten, I can't make any sweeping generalizations about plot, but so far her dialogue is pretty excellent.

Also, I must recommend to all and sundry that you scamper off and get your hands on Peter Beagle's latest, We Never Talk About My Brother. Go on, scamper. It's worth it, I promise. His writing is rich as custard, but since it's a book of short stories, when you get overwhelmed by it you can always put it down. And it's really just shimmeringly beautiful stuff.

So that has been my life recently: books, television, abject fear.

All is not lost, however. Who just made it to round 4x on Bubble Spinner? Who just got a score of 2177? That's right, bitches. Boo-yah.

Take heart, my challengers. (I didn't realize I had challengers till I got home, and people were all asking what my top score was.) In losing this challenge you have actually won. Are you depressed and finding it difficult to do anything productive in your life for more than twenty minutes at a time? No? Because that's what makes ME play Bubble Spinner for like three hours at a stretch.