I haven't posted in FOREVER

Because I am a failure and a terrible person. But I'm back on the wagon, folks. I have thoughts, and soon you'll get to hear them more regularly.

I don't usually post any pictures on this blog, particularly of anything personal or identifiable. But I'm going to bite the bullet and post this one, because it commemorated a truly amazing experience.



THAT IS EMMA THOMPSON, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. EMMA THOMPSON, AND ME, AND MY CLASSMATES.

Because, awesome.

More about the workshop, the experience, life in Britain, and, of course, Shakespeare and other literature, coming soon.

Ketchup and Mustard

Not really any mustard. Mostly ketchup, because like a failure I haven't written all summer.

So, in no particular order:

My mum visited! It was lovely. We saw shows, bought clothes and books, and got tattoos. You know, all the usual stuff.

I wrote my portfolio. Not, I'm sorry to say, my best work. Between various vacations and so forth, I left it quite late, and had a lot of trouble approaching the assignment. Still, it's in, it's done, and I am basking in my weeks of nothing-to-do until it's time to move to my fall dorm.

I visited Char, Ella, and their gorgeous new baby, whom I will call Topsy. So cute, my friends! It seems bizarre that people my age are parents, but they are, and Char and Ella are quite good ones. We saw Hadrian's Wall and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

And Sharkytart came to visit! Sharkytart and I went to high school together ages and ages ago, and have been living in different countries (or at least different states) pretty much ever since. But we stay in really good touch now, and she came out for nearly a month. We did London, and Amsterdam (there is a hilarious story there about our inability to get stoned therein), and came back so I could do my Troilus Redux. And then we stayed with Poppasmart for a few days and went to a castle and wandered around all day wearing Robin Hood hats. You see why these people are my friends.

All in all, a wonderfully relaxing and supportive summer. I got to spend a lot of time with friends, something I haven't done enough since I moved to this side of the pond. I went to fun places and saw many good shows (the Globe's Troilus and As You Like It were both marvelous this year). And through it all I of course read a great many books and watched a fair bit of TV. For TV, I must recommend Castle to all those who haven't seen it; it cracks me up on a regular basis. As for books, I've been on quite the mystery kick (thanks, MOM) and made it through the Sebastian St. Cyr books, the Lady Julia Grey books, the first two Roderick Alleyn books, and today I finished the first Dame Frevisse book. Also the Earthsea quartet, and The Time Traveler's Wife, and a couple more Peter Wimseys. And some other stuff that I don't remember. Quick reviews: Sebastian St. Cyr (by C.S. Harris) gets an A for plot and a C for writing, averaging to a B; Lady Julia Gray (Deanna Raybourn), also a B; Roderick Alleyn (Ngaio Marsh) C+; Dame Frevisse (Margaret Frazer) A-; Earthsea (Ursula Le Guin) B+; Time Traveler's Wife (Audrey Niffeneger) the same; Peter Wimsey (Dorothy Sayers) A-. The movie of Time Traveler's Wife gets a C-, though; that was not nearly as good as the book.

And that is what I did this summer. On the whole, delightfully refreshing, even if England couldn't work up a good day of sun since the end of May.

Tidings of Comfort, Joy, and Irritation

New Year's Resolution: To write in my blog weekly, rather than whenever I feel like it. So Sunday is now my update day, and I am all about starting this week while the resolution is still fresh. Earlier the start, sooner the habit forms.

I'm hoping that will also work with flossing. I hate flossing.

Anyway. I've survived my first Christmas away from home with somewhat less pain than predicted. What sucked was that on like, December 23, I got sick, in the dramatic way that my body does, wherein I am perfectly fine one day and wake up the next with The Blob That Ate Tokyo sitting in my nasal cavity, and then on the third I have a light case of the sniffles. But I lost all energy for a few days and woke up Christmas morning in a room covered in Kleenex and it was faintly depressing.

But then I went over to my friend Allette's house, and hung around chatting with her and her husband and playing with her daughters and generally having a nice relaxing time of it. KitKat and Nebcla showed up a little later, and so we could talk a bit of shop and have plenty of fun. Thus the secret to Christmas away from home is the same as the secret of birthdays away from home: take it easy and give yourself a break.

What is not getting off so easy is stupid Royal Mail and UPS, who managed to deliver my big family box the day after Christmas. Like, thanks, kids. It is exactly a big enough deal to be annoying, because the presents for my family are small, and would have been a nice addition to Christmas but are a little silly to be getting their own party. But whatever. I am glad they got there, and there's not much else I can do.

SPEAKING of mail, I am unimpressed with the campus services (or lack thereof) over break. The building with the laundry room and the mail delivery point was closed over Christmas and is open now only six hours a day. Well, there aren't many of us here, and I can live with that. What annoys me is that the people who work to keep it open are leaving early every single chance they get. They're only even supposed to be there from ten to four, but they'll leave early whenever humanly possible. I got told off yesterday for bringing my laundry in at 2:03pm, because the porter had been planning on going home at two. "Last wash is at two," he said, all annoyed, "so that I can leave by four." What time was it? As aforementioned, it was 2:03. And then he complained that now, because I had the audacity to do my laundry, he would have to stay for "another two hours." Namely... until four. Which was when he was supposed to leave anyway. In the US, you do not get to complain about actually having to finish your shift at work. For serious. And he was, to me, quite a lot. Like five solid minutes of wondering aloud why I couldn't get out of bed sooner to do my damn laundry. What time did my laundry finish? 3:45. So it wasn't like I was making him stay late, even. When I tried to check my mail today, around 3, the office was long deserted. Dude, if you don't want to actually do the work you're paid to do, quit, fool. It's what I did. But don't bitch to me about actually having to work (read: sit around on your ass on campus instead of at home) because I need some clean clothes.

Now that the room's clean and the laundry's done, I have nothing to think about except how little I want to start my over-break homework. I've been putting it off all day. (Well, all eight hours since I woke up, anyway. You can tell I'm back at a university, anticipating paper-writing, from my sleep schedule, which has been atrocious recently.) Actually, I've been putting it off since the start of break, but now break is half over and I'm going to die painfully if I don't get going on it.

Jeez, if this is all it takes to get me going, updating every week should be cake. Possibly the trick is to have a paper due every Monday.

This Week in Devon

Seen: Cows. No, really, because today for the first time, there were cows in the pasture that I walk by to get to the Drama building. This pasture is reasonably large, and has quite a steep ravine running through it, as well as plenty of flora along the edges. So I do not know if the cows have always been there, or if they are a new addition. But there they are, a dozen or so black and white cows, now part of my morning walk.

Heard: A detailed plot synopsis of The Sound of Music including musical interludes of "Do Re Mi" and "Something Good." The interesting part is that I heard this through my kitchen window (which must perforce remain permanently open so that the super-sensitive smoke detectors don't go off merely because someone walks near the stove). So someone was giving this synopsis either above, below, or kitty-corner to me, also with their window open. I was tempted to start belting out "Eidelweiss" while doing my dishes, just to hear their reaction, but I have not the singing skills.

Smelt: The difference in the air between "cool," "crisp," "clear, but with a promise of rain," "foggy, but not rainy," and "pack your umbrella, fool." I am just getting the hang of this whole weather phenomenon. My favorite smell is "clear with a promise of rain" because it smells so soft, and clean, like some sort of atmospheric laundry detergent. Without actually smelling like laundry detergent, of course.

Tasted: Or rather, un-tasted: the avocado I bought from the farmer's market. I knew it, I knew that buying an avocado in England was a bad idea -- how can they ripen with no sun? -- and yet I missed California enough that I let the farmer's marked dude talk me into buying one for 70p. I knew better, I did, and yet I bought it anyway. And lo and behold, cooked into my quesadilla this evening was the Phantom Avocado of No Flavor. (The hot pasty I had for lunch was good though. God bless Oggy Oggy.)

Touched: My friend Nebcla's hair, which is awesome. If you've ever read Ramona the Pest, perhaps you remember how she got in major trouble in kindergarten for pulling Susan's hair. Susan is described as having red ringlets that corkscrew around so that when you pull them and release them, they bounce. (Ramona always says "Boing!" when she pulls Susan's hair, in the book.) I always thought such hair was a myth, created by a children's author, like princesses and dragons and children who drop out of kindergarten and mothers who let them get away with it. But no! Well, the other stuff is a myth, yeah, but my friend Nebcla really does have hair like Susan's and every now and then she lets me boing it.

I am a Pirate . . . See?

My pirate name is:

Captain Jenny Bonney

Even though there's no legal rank on a pirate ship, everyone recognizes you're the one in charge. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

In other news, I've packed up practically all of my books. Yay! Go me! And eight million shout outs to Mousie, who volunteered her car and her charming self to help me. Thank you! I can relax a little more now... still no idea what's going to happen to half of this furniture, but so it goes.

It was the Nightingale, and Not the Lark

... that pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear. I am ... not ready to leave.

I packed one box. One box. And then my eyes filled with tears and I had to go lie down.

The party yesterday made everything very real and very sad. I can't think about where I'm going or what I'll be doing -- just all the nice people I am going away from. My friends actually held me down -- strapped to a chair with three people on a side -- and said nice things about me to my face. And hit me when I tried to be self-deprecating. And now, when I try to pack I almost start crying.

So thank God for Missday, who came over and was all supportive while I was all clingy and needy. And thanks to her, I have packed two boxes to go into the basement, and one whole box of culls off my bookshelf. And I read one whole chapter of a professor-book, and felt a sense of accomplishment. The battle is once again on, and my responsibility has struck!

As a side note, my number of Shakespeare books has grown to nearly 30. Not counting, of course, all the individual plays I have (only missing 4). As a whole, that is comforting.

Questions... Questions That Need Answering

These are my questions today:

1. Who is going to crack me up today? The Christmas season is annoying in certain ways (obviously) but there seem to be higher percentages of customers who ... how can I say this? Who could easily be satirized in a Jane Austen novel, how about that. Like the older couple in last Monday, who appeared so confused that I stopped "shelving" (read: reading) and asked if they needed help. I got them sorted out, and heard the woman tell her husband triumphantly, "You see, Frank? All we had to do was ask!"

2. What does The Guy I Have My Eye On think about me? I know, I know, so shallow. But I haven't gone remotely ga-ga over a boy in almost a year and a half, so I am due. And this guy is cute and sweet and polite, and I can't tell if he has his eye on me back, or if he's just a nice guy. And there is no one I can ask.

3. When is the guy whose room I took going to move off the couch? He's a nice guy, and I totally understand the legarthy that seizes one at the prospect of moving out, especially packing up one's stuff and moving to another country, but they put the ad in, I only answered it, and it has been a full month since I moved in. Again, I have no objections to him personally, but the house really isn't big enough for four, and he spends forever in the bathroom.

4. Where are all these ants coming from? Look, my friends, the buffet table is CLOSED. I thought I made that perfectly clear when I took all the dirty dishes out of my room and then squirted you all with Windex.

5. How am I going to find time to go to the city and get my nose ring adjusted? Which it needs, sometime before Christmas. In broader terms, how is it that I have loads of time to spend goofing off checking my email and such, and none at all to do the research I am supposed to be doing? How can I make time for dates with old college chums (not date-dates, see above. Just hang-out dates) but not to sit down at the library and do some good old-fashioned research? How does my internal time management even work?

6. Why don't I like any modern playwrights except Stoppard? I saw a play last night, by an award-winning playwright, and it seriously just sounded like Lionel's efforts from season two of Slings & Arrows. I mean, don't get me wrong, the staging was excellent and the story reasonably compelling, but the dialogue just... did nothing for me. Why is that? It's not just this guy, it's pretty much any play that's been written in the last twenty or thirty years, except musicals, Stoppard, and the short plays my friend Tangy used to write when we were teenagers.

Maybe I Should Just Cut and Paste That Last Entry and Use it as a Default

For this week, at least. What do I like? Theater. What do I hate? Packing. What is just there? Work.

And... that was yesterday. First work, which mostly went well, although by the end I was tired and hungry and therefore over-sensitive. Then dinner with dad, which was good. I tried to explain about casting and how we only get a total of two AEA people, one of whom has been cast, and why that made it difficult. I'm not sure how much Dad appreciated the explanation, but heh.

Then I got home, and forayed into the basement. Sigh. On the plus side, I accomplished some good stuff; I found lots of stuff I was pleased to see again, and many things were sorted. ("Trash or Sell", "Storage", "Taking With Unless There's No Room In Which Case Storage," "Definitely Take With," "Um, Where in God's Name Did I Pick That Up?") On the minus side, I have butt-ton of crap, most of which is now dirty and/or bent out of shape from its life below stairs. Anyway, I burned out on that, came back upstairs, and tried to stretch my back back into shape (of course my back picks the weekend that I'm moving to throw itself out. Of course).

And then got on a long phone call with the OS about callbacks, namely how we are scheduling them, how we absolutely don't have enough time for them AT ALL, which sides we are making the actors read, where those sides should begin and end, is that one side too long, but if it is, how do we cut it down, because it's got great transitions and it's all important, and God, Shaw, why can't you make this guy shut up occasionally, etc., etc., etc. It sounds crazy but it was great fun. Eventually we just had to read the sides aloud and time them.

The fact that I love conversations like that is another tick in the "director" column. After auditions on Sunday it was lunch with the OS and her friend, an actor who read opposite the auditioning people, and we were talking about whom to call back. More than once he was like, I'm glad it's you two making the decisions and not me. And I sort of see what he means, because I'm glad that the OS has the final say and I don't, because I trust her judgment a lot more than I trust mine. But that doesn't stop me from having actual really clear and defined opinions about people, and casting, and seeing people opposite and all that. And looking at how a bunch of disparate things work together and enjoying trying to make them make sense.

(I like ticks in the director column, even as they make me a little uncomfortable. They make me feel like I'm being myself, which is nice; but it's odd to think about it as something I'm good at, because I still feel like everyone in the world could do it better than me if they just put their mind to it, so I end up feeling presumptuous. ADing for the OS is a really good middle ground between those feelings, what with the her listening to me and then making her own decisions.)

Ah, the ramblings of the post-collegiate. Someone needs to smack me.

Today, I have lunch with the DD. Lunch with the DD and the OS in the same week! So happy. I swear to God, one day I am going to introduce them to each other and then just... stand back. It will be great. And I will feel awkward because I am actually taller than both of them, which just feels so wrong.

Anyway. Yes, lunch with the DD. Who says she has made me a birthday cake, possibly because she is one of the sweetest people ever. And we will talk about how she is really for reals restarting PRs, and how that is some of the best news ever. (She's starting with the perfect combo, too.)

Okay, now I'm really just putting off packing and working and moving. HAAAAAAAAATE. I could ramble on about this stuff all day if it meant I didn't have to pack, but alas. I do have to pack. I have to pack and do laundry, all the livelong day. And cough until I choke on my own mucous. It is extremely irritating.

Dancing & Debating

I am having so much fun in Durham this week. It is exactly the right amount of layaround, late-sleeping, making a mess all over Ella & Char's living room, plus cultural treats, and the best part, the fun-ness of Johnny talk. (We are dredging up so many old stories. Char was a senior when I was a freshman, so we've got literally like seven or eight years of scandals to talk over and laugh about. I once read a quote that said great minds discuss ideas, mediocre minds discuss events and shallow minds discuss people. I've never believed it, because I never met anyone who didn't enjoy discussing every single one of those things, usually in quick succession.)

Anyway, last night Ella took me to her lindy class, which I sucked at after spending three or four years trying to figure out Johnny swing, which is significantly easier than the normal kind. But it was full of really friendly people and good times, and it ended at the pub, which is never bad.

Ella and Char are also being converted to Wonderfalls, which makes me feel rather better about how much time I spend watching the show. This makes me happy. They also agree with my consensus -- not the best thing on TV by a long shot, but clever, and oh-so-cathartic.

Tomorrow I shall decamp for parts west, namely Dublin and Killarney. Yum, Ireland. And by that yum, I was referring to Guinness.