Today is Valentine's Day. I really don't want to be the sort of person who writes about Valentine's Day, on Valentine's Day, for any reason. There are loads of people who do that. There are newspaper articles about romantic restaurants, and romantic movies, and which books are secretly lovers. There are feminist rants about how Valentine's Day is a sick joke. There are all the advertisements about flowers and candy that helped spark the feminist rants in the first place. There are reviews of the movie Valentine's Day, which is universally hailed as horrible. Everything to be say has already been said.
Except that I haven't found any articles about treating Valentine's Day like just a normal day, and I've found only one article about loving yourself on Valentine's Day. And those are the two things that led to this year's epiphany.
Oh, I've been a good feminist for years and I know I'm supposed to love myself and also be angry about how the world wants me to pair up all the time. But I've been single long enough that I'm pretty used to all that stuff as an everyday thing, not a once-a-year thing. And it's true that some days I feel lonely, and some days I feel frustrated, and some days I feel angry. Some days I feel so damn relieved to be single it isn't even funny. But what I didn't articulate to myself until just now is that loving myself and valuing myself as a single entity doesn't mean I have to be angry about that stuff. I know it seems obvious, but sometimes things like that are, and sometimes they aren't. And I just got back from London, finally slept in my own bed, among my own books and music and keepsakes, and just did not have the energy to whip myself into a polemic. So I loved myself peacefully instead.
Certain days of the year (notably my birthday) I designate as love-me days, which means I get to do whatever I want, and am not allowed to guilt-trip myself for a full twenty-four hours. And because I am single (but I think I am going to continue this tradition next year regardless) Valentine's Day is now another day like that. Except a quieter, and in a way more relaxing one, because the one thing I do sort of force myself to do on my birthday is treat myself to something, and today, I didn't even bother to do that.
Today, I started the day by doing warm-up staging exercises. Then I brushed my teeth and went to the library. I got five books that basically have nothing in common with one another. I dipped a bit into the fantasy, and read some of the angry feminist polemic (the latter means I fit the stereotype of a man-hating forever-lonely feminist bitch). Then I read a romance story (which means I fit the stereotype of the overly-romantic wishful lonely girl). I had a bowl of soup and took a nap (the stereotype of a couldn't-care-less feminist free spirit hippie?), and managed to watch six episodes of Criminal Minds on DVD (I have no idea what that makes me). I called two female friends and told them that I love them (chick flick best friend stereotype) but I would have talked to both of them anyway, given the option. I cooked pasta for one (lonely, pathetic and weepy, except I wasn't) and drank some juice because I'm off booze at the moment.
And all day I didn't feel guilty about any of those things. What I mostly felt was slightly bemused by all the single-girl stereotypes I was fulfilling, without actually having any of the feelings associated with those stereotypes. The romance story makes me feel happy and imaginative, and the angry feminist polemic appeals to my intellect and said some really fascinating things. The only sacrifice I can really think of to the holiday (besides the aforementioned guilt-free-ness) is that I got a book I wanted to read from the library instead of from my friend Poppasmart, who would have loaned it to me, because I wanted to give her time with her boy. But I probably would have done that anyway, since they haven't seen each other for a couple weeks and I've been sharing a room with her in London.
I like this way of celebrating. So often if I take an extra guilt-free day, I just feel stagnant, because I use the time to nap. But crap on that - I'm going to have one me-day a month, and sooner or later I will train myself not to nap them all away. Anyway, I did nice things today besides nap, so I have decided it's all right.
And now no more personal life ramblings; I keep meaning to write a post about why I refuse to go see Avatar.
Showing posts with label Say-la-Vee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Say-la-Vee. Show all posts
16.1.10
There's Got to be a Way
Does anyone know how to read multiple books at the same time? Or to read and knit simultaneously? Or to read (properly, not listen) while washing dishes? Or how to motivate myself to do any of these things more individually?
You know, I just read an article about the "Quarterlife Crisis" about how people my age have so much potential and they've been told they can do whatever they want and then they all feel like failures when they just go to an office job every day and they're paralyzed with indecision about whether to travel or have babies or buy a house or jump off a cliff. And in the larger sense that the article is talking about, my basic response is like, "cry me a river, you whiny bitches," because you do the best you can at a given time and if it sucks you do something else that sucks less, etc., etc. Not to say I don't know what they're talking about, but if you want to do something like travel, do it, don't dither about it, because once you're actually travelling, dithering gets you precisely nowhere.
But in the smaller things I admit I kinda see their point. I have four or five books I'm reading right now, and I can think of at least four or five more that I've been meaning to start (or in some cases finish) since forever ago. It's the feeling I used to get on Christmas morning when I was a kid when I couldn't decide which toy to play with first. (Actually, even when I was a kid, it was quite often which book I would read first.) So right now, I want to be reading all these books, and I also want to watch the movie I got from the library, and a movie I got for Christmas that I haven't seen yet, and I'm working on a new knitting project that's very exciting (if you're really bored or really addicted to yarn) and what I ought to be doing is washing my damn dishes so I can cook some dinner, but on the other hand it's raining outside and nothing makes me happy like hearing rain outside when I'm cuddled up in bed, but will I enjoy it as much with my room the mess that it is, and also I've got some good music playing, so where does that fit in?
I know, I know. Cry me a river.
The article mentioned that back in the day, when career options were more fixed (housewivery or secretary school for girls, professions determined on aptitude, class, and parental background for boys), twentysomethings didn't have this problem, blah blah blah. Then maybe people got midlife crises when they realized they weren't doing what they wanted to be doing. I don't know about the mid-life crisis part of the analogy, but I'll tell you when I never have trouble deciding what to read or watch or listen to: when I've got a paper due.
I read a quotation in high school that struck me as brilliant. I had to do a search for who said it (that part clearly didn't stick with me: it's attributed to Mary Wilson Little), but I reproduce it for you now:
"There is no fun in having nothing to do. The fun is in having lots to do and not doing it."
You know, I just read an article about the "Quarterlife Crisis" about how people my age have so much potential and they've been told they can do whatever they want and then they all feel like failures when they just go to an office job every day and they're paralyzed with indecision about whether to travel or have babies or buy a house or jump off a cliff. And in the larger sense that the article is talking about, my basic response is like, "cry me a river, you whiny bitches," because you do the best you can at a given time and if it sucks you do something else that sucks less, etc., etc. Not to say I don't know what they're talking about, but if you want to do something like travel, do it, don't dither about it, because once you're actually travelling, dithering gets you precisely nowhere.
But in the smaller things I admit I kinda see their point. I have four or five books I'm reading right now, and I can think of at least four or five more that I've been meaning to start (or in some cases finish) since forever ago. It's the feeling I used to get on Christmas morning when I was a kid when I couldn't decide which toy to play with first. (Actually, even when I was a kid, it was quite often which book I would read first.) So right now, I want to be reading all these books, and I also want to watch the movie I got from the library, and a movie I got for Christmas that I haven't seen yet, and I'm working on a new knitting project that's very exciting (if you're really bored or really addicted to yarn) and what I ought to be doing is washing my damn dishes so I can cook some dinner, but on the other hand it's raining outside and nothing makes me happy like hearing rain outside when I'm cuddled up in bed, but will I enjoy it as much with my room the mess that it is, and also I've got some good music playing, so where does that fit in?
I know, I know. Cry me a river.
The article mentioned that back in the day, when career options were more fixed (housewivery or secretary school for girls, professions determined on aptitude, class, and parental background for boys), twentysomethings didn't have this problem, blah blah blah. Then maybe people got midlife crises when they realized they weren't doing what they wanted to be doing. I don't know about the mid-life crisis part of the analogy, but I'll tell you when I never have trouble deciding what to read or watch or listen to: when I've got a paper due.
I read a quotation in high school that struck me as brilliant. I had to do a search for who said it (that part clearly didn't stick with me: it's attributed to Mary Wilson Little), but I reproduce it for you now:
"There is no fun in having nothing to do. The fun is in having lots to do and not doing it."
6.9.09
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.
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.
24.5.09
Sun!
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.
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.
13.5.09
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.
Whee!
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.
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.
Whee!
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.
19.3.09
Rebirth
Spring break is not for everyone. It's not designed for sorority girls, or fraternity boys. It's not so that what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico. It's not for undergrads at state schools at all, in fact. I know it's been heavily commercialized, but so has Christmas, and every year we get somebody telling us the "true meaning" of the holiday.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you the "true meaning" of spring break.
Spring break is a just and merciful God's gift to graduate/postgraduate students everywhere, who have had a very difficult term and need some actual relaxation time, rather than short periods of catching one's breath.
That we may not forget ourselves, we have been given much work to do over this breathing period, but that we may not despair, the sun has shined upon us in this, the first week of it.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you the "true meaning" of spring break.
Spring break is a just and merciful God's gift to graduate/postgraduate students everywhere, who have had a very difficult term and need some actual relaxation time, rather than short periods of catching one's breath.
That we may not forget ourselves, we have been given much work to do over this breathing period, but that we may not despair, the sun has shined upon us in this, the first week of it.
15.3.09
It Feels Like Years Since It's Been Here...
Here comes the sun...
I know, I missed a week again. But this time, my excuse is that I was on a train up to Stratford to do a research project. I couldn't update from a train. No, honestly, I couldn't. It was sad.
Stratford, though, was not sad. We caught a showing of The Tempest while we were there, and it was just gorgeously, gorgeously done. Antony Sher as Prospero was fairly magnificent, and John Kani as Caliban was very affecting, although I have mixed feelings about the face he presents in interviews. (I haven't read any interviews with Sir Antony, but he was perfectly charming when I met him.) And Ariel and Ferdinand were very attractive and took their shirts off a lot, so that was nice too.
The interpretation was post-colonial and almost purely African, and it was bright and beautiful and interesting. Everyone we talked with beforehand said things like "It's certainly a very interesting production," so I was prepared for rather the worst, but actually, I thought the whole thing worked beautifully. In practical terms, it was very creative: there was a monstrous puppet Sycorax, and the disappearing banquet was the best I'd ever seen it; plus the way Prospero summoned Ariel was clearly authentic. And on an interpretive level, both Prospero and Caliban became so much more interesting. Prospero, especially, I think, since we got to see his much darker side, and so many character flaws that most productions just ignore.
So that was moo-velous, and my research went just fine, and it has been so spring-like since I got back! I swear, when the sun shines on England, any part of England, you just feel in your heart that God is smiling on you. It is even supposed to get up to 60°F this week, which is crazy-excellent. I only need like, a t-shirt and one jacket when I go out. I know, know for a fact, that in a matter of days the sky will dump ice on my head, because that is the way spring is in this part of the world. But dammit, I will enjoy this while I can.
A final bit of news - last night I watched the movie Penelope, with Christina Ricci and James McAvoy, and I have decided that it is the cutest movie in the world, and life-affirming to boot. Sometime soon I am going to buy it for myself, and meantime I must encourage all of you to watch it. So sweet, so nice, like a combination of Shrek 2 and Pushing Daisies. Next time you're in a bad mood, scamper off and rent it; you won't regret it.
I know, I missed a week again. But this time, my excuse is that I was on a train up to Stratford to do a research project. I couldn't update from a train. No, honestly, I couldn't. It was sad.
Stratford, though, was not sad. We caught a showing of The Tempest while we were there, and it was just gorgeously, gorgeously done. Antony Sher as Prospero was fairly magnificent, and John Kani as Caliban was very affecting, although I have mixed feelings about the face he presents in interviews. (I haven't read any interviews with Sir Antony, but he was perfectly charming when I met him.) And Ariel and Ferdinand were very attractive and took their shirts off a lot, so that was nice too.
The interpretation was post-colonial and almost purely African, and it was bright and beautiful and interesting. Everyone we talked with beforehand said things like "It's certainly a very interesting production," so I was prepared for rather the worst, but actually, I thought the whole thing worked beautifully. In practical terms, it was very creative: there was a monstrous puppet Sycorax, and the disappearing banquet was the best I'd ever seen it; plus the way Prospero summoned Ariel was clearly authentic. And on an interpretive level, both Prospero and Caliban became so much more interesting. Prospero, especially, I think, since we got to see his much darker side, and so many character flaws that most productions just ignore.
So that was moo-velous, and my research went just fine, and it has been so spring-like since I got back! I swear, when the sun shines on England, any part of England, you just feel in your heart that God is smiling on you. It is even supposed to get up to 60°F this week, which is crazy-excellent. I only need like, a t-shirt and one jacket when I go out. I know, know for a fact, that in a matter of days the sky will dump ice on my head, because that is the way spring is in this part of the world. But dammit, I will enjoy this while I can.
A final bit of news - last night I watched the movie Penelope, with Christina Ricci and James McAvoy, and I have decided that it is the cutest movie in the world, and life-affirming to boot. Sometime soon I am going to buy it for myself, and meantime I must encourage all of you to watch it. So sweet, so nice, like a combination of Shrek 2 and Pushing Daisies. Next time you're in a bad mood, scamper off and rent it; you won't regret it.
1.3.09
And So the Whirligig of Time...
I know, I know, I missed last Sunday. *Hangs head* I'm sorry. I'd just returned from London, I'd just had an interview for a job I didn't get, I was living in squalor, and no update happened. I was a little burnt out and tempted not to update today, but then, you know, it becomes a habit, and before you know it, I'm all back to never update at all.
So I finally am NOT living in squalor anymore, and I'm kind of shocked at the state I allowed my room to come to. For serious, you guys, it was icky. I only cleaned it today, and I was like, I can't even believe this is where I live. I'm not significantly happier that I live here now - it's still pretty depressing - but I am no longer embarrassed that I live here, and sometimes that's the best you can get.
At some future date I will be sharing all the gory details of our annual Shake In A Day, but I'm saving the details of the idea up, so I can tell them to my ducks when I get home and help them organize their own. Suffice to say, that was some messed up, but hilarious, crap.
In other news ... well, I don't have a ton of other news, since most of last week was me lounging around in my squalor, recovering from the craziness that was London and relishing being the only person in my room. Sharing with nice people is still sharing, and not getting enough sleep still makes you tired, even when you're doing exciting stuff during the day.
What I can tell you is that Merlin continues its cute-but-stupid hijinks (much like Robin Hood, which I eventually gave up on, because I had to watch it online, and pretty people are less pretty in lo-def) and I really love watching it, as long as I focus on looking at the pretty people and completely ignore whatever they're saying. But they are very, very pretty. Life on Mars, in contrast, has very few pretty people (or if they are pretty, you can't tell through the bad seventies hair) but very interesting storylines and I'm enjoying it quite a bit. And I'm back on the moderately dopey Sookie Stackhouse mysteries, but I am tired and they clip along nicely (though I do wish she'd quit dating vampires and start dating werewolves, who are nearly always sexier).
And yeah, that's been my week. Not so exciting, but there it is.
So I finally am NOT living in squalor anymore, and I'm kind of shocked at the state I allowed my room to come to. For serious, you guys, it was icky. I only cleaned it today, and I was like, I can't even believe this is where I live. I'm not significantly happier that I live here now - it's still pretty depressing - but I am no longer embarrassed that I live here, and sometimes that's the best you can get.
At some future date I will be sharing all the gory details of our annual Shake In A Day, but I'm saving the details of the idea up, so I can tell them to my ducks when I get home and help them organize their own. Suffice to say, that was some messed up, but hilarious, crap.
In other news ... well, I don't have a ton of other news, since most of last week was me lounging around in my squalor, recovering from the craziness that was London and relishing being the only person in my room. Sharing with nice people is still sharing, and not getting enough sleep still makes you tired, even when you're doing exciting stuff during the day.
What I can tell you is that Merlin continues its cute-but-stupid hijinks (much like Robin Hood, which I eventually gave up on, because I had to watch it online, and pretty people are less pretty in lo-def) and I really love watching it, as long as I focus on looking at the pretty people and completely ignore whatever they're saying. But they are very, very pretty. Life on Mars, in contrast, has very few pretty people (or if they are pretty, you can't tell through the bad seventies hair) but very interesting storylines and I'm enjoying it quite a bit. And I'm back on the moderately dopey Sookie Stackhouse mysteries, but I am tired and they clip along nicely (though I do wish she'd quit dating vampires and start dating werewolves, who are nearly always sexier).
And yeah, that's been my week. Not so exciting, but there it is.
16.2.09
Good Old Wooden O
Obviously, I missed my update day yesterday. My excuse is that I'm staying in London and getting on the net in 15 minute increments at 50p each.
Plus, my Globe stuff is very exciting to me, but may be less so to others. I'm having a total blast -- they take us up on the stage to say lines and move around; we're doing text work on Hamlet and Julius Caesar; we have movement, and voice, and stage combat with big swords - it's fun.
It's also stressful, of course, and not a lot of private time in a hostel and very expensive food and stressful things like that. Exhausting. That's the word.
In other news, not unreleated, I caught the musical stage version of Sunset Boulevard last Saturday. I regret to inform the general public that whatever Andrew Lloyd Webber may or may not once have had (that is up for debate), he has now lost it. Which is sad, because I enjoy several, though not all of his musicals. But whatever it was, it's gone now; the music (and lyrics) were by far the worst element of this particular musical. Story - good; concept - interesting; acting - fantastic; songs - toilet. Sad but true.
I've been buying loads of books, but instead of writing about them, I have to sign off.
Plus, my Globe stuff is very exciting to me, but may be less so to others. I'm having a total blast -- they take us up on the stage to say lines and move around; we're doing text work on Hamlet and Julius Caesar; we have movement, and voice, and stage combat with big swords - it's fun.
It's also stressful, of course, and not a lot of private time in a hostel and very expensive food and stressful things like that. Exhausting. That's the word.
In other news, not unreleated, I caught the musical stage version of Sunset Boulevard last Saturday. I regret to inform the general public that whatever Andrew Lloyd Webber may or may not once have had (that is up for debate), he has now lost it. Which is sad, because I enjoy several, though not all of his musicals. But whatever it was, it's gone now; the music (and lyrics) were by far the worst element of this particular musical. Story - good; concept - interesting; acting - fantastic; songs - toilet. Sad but true.
I've been buying loads of books, but instead of writing about them, I have to sign off.
8.2.09
I Knew him, Horatio
Whee, much to tell, and only eleven more minutes of internet time.
So. Doctor Who must have whupped some serious alien ass over England this week, because the southwest got a freak snowstorm. AS we were driving back from our performance at the naval academy, so we very nearly got caught in it. Well, we DID get caught in it, but luckily we had inside sources and took an alternative route, or we would have gotten SO caught in it that we would have had to be rescued. We weren't that caught in it, but the drive that should have taken forty minutes took over three hours. So that was quite dramatic, but I assume we are relatviely safe from that alien menace now.
Until, like, Tuesday, when another storm is expected. Perhaps the aliens are planning to come back.
Playing the naval college was a story in itself - we got a tour and everything! - but since I only have time for a limited number of exciting stories, I had to prioritize.
Today, we arrived in London, booked into our hostel (triple decker bunks! I am on the very top) and went out to dinnner. And as we came out from dinner, we saw the red carpet where all the celebrities were leaving the BAFTAs. Which was also quite exciting.
We saw Emma Watson (Hermione), Patrick Stewart (again, for me!), Kate Winslet, Noel Clarke (Mickey from Doctor Who) and someone who might have been Helen Mirren, and someone else who might have been Meryl Streep. (Shut up. It was very crowded and hard to see.) So that was a good end to the day.
And now, there is no more internet time, so Globe updates will wait until tomorrow, when I actually know something.
So. Doctor Who must have whupped some serious alien ass over England this week, because the southwest got a freak snowstorm. AS we were driving back from our performance at the naval academy, so we very nearly got caught in it. Well, we DID get caught in it, but luckily we had inside sources and took an alternative route, or we would have gotten SO caught in it that we would have had to be rescued. We weren't that caught in it, but the drive that should have taken forty minutes took over three hours. So that was quite dramatic, but I assume we are relatviely safe from that alien menace now.
Until, like, Tuesday, when another storm is expected. Perhaps the aliens are planning to come back.
Playing the naval college was a story in itself - we got a tour and everything! - but since I only have time for a limited number of exciting stories, I had to prioritize.
Today, we arrived in London, booked into our hostel (triple decker bunks! I am on the very top) and went out to dinnner. And as we came out from dinner, we saw the red carpet where all the celebrities were leaving the BAFTAs. Which was also quite exciting.
We saw Emma Watson (Hermione), Patrick Stewart (again, for me!), Kate Winslet, Noel Clarke (Mickey from Doctor Who) and someone who might have been Helen Mirren, and someone else who might have been Meryl Streep. (Shut up. It was very crowded and hard to see.) So that was a good end to the day.
And now, there is no more internet time, so Globe updates will wait until tomorrow, when I actually know something.
2.2.09
Flat, Stale, and Unprofitable
You know, I've been thinking, on and off, what to write about all day long, and I can't come up with basically anything. Not that I haven't done stuff this week, because I have. Oh, brother, have I ever.
Monday was last minute rehearsals, Tuesday tech, Wednesday dress, and Thursday our opening. Thursday too, my dad's younger brother (hereafter denoted as Uncle O) arrived here at my uni. Friday, a day off, and Saturday, a tour show. Today, Uncle O headed out.
I feel bad, because what with all the rehearsals and things, I wasn't really prepped to handle a visitor. So there was a lot more wandering, and a lot fewer tours, than was anticipated. He did see my show twice, bless him, and said he enjoyed it both times, but I was not at the peak of my hospitality, and so feel bad.
Today is a day off, and since I dropped Uncle O back at the train station, it's been a lot of sitting around in front of the computer, eating chocolate. I wish I were kidding, but alas. It's been flipping freezing here (I'm not exaggerating. Literally, the temperature has been down by zero) and exhaustion from the show has made me feel that on some days, the best you can hope for is to make it till bedtime.
Which is not to say that the show is going badly, at all, or that I didn't have a fun weekend. I think the flatness comes rather from overextension. Look for a more cheerful update next week, when I'll be finished touring and on my way to London!
Monday was last minute rehearsals, Tuesday tech, Wednesday dress, and Thursday our opening. Thursday too, my dad's younger brother (hereafter denoted as Uncle O) arrived here at my uni. Friday, a day off, and Saturday, a tour show. Today, Uncle O headed out.
I feel bad, because what with all the rehearsals and things, I wasn't really prepped to handle a visitor. So there was a lot more wandering, and a lot fewer tours, than was anticipated. He did see my show twice, bless him, and said he enjoyed it both times, but I was not at the peak of my hospitality, and so feel bad.
Today is a day off, and since I dropped Uncle O back at the train station, it's been a lot of sitting around in front of the computer, eating chocolate. I wish I were kidding, but alas. It's been flipping freezing here (I'm not exaggerating. Literally, the temperature has been down by zero) and exhaustion from the show has made me feel that on some days, the best you can hope for is to make it till bedtime.
Which is not to say that the show is going badly, at all, or that I didn't have a fun weekend. I think the flatness comes rather from overextension. Look for a more cheerful update next week, when I'll be finished touring and on my way to London!
25.1.09
La Vie Boheme
I had so much stuff to do today, and I did precisely none of it. I did not review my lines. I did not clean my room. I did not go to the grocery store. I didn't catch up on my emails. I didn't even knit the sleeves of the baby sweater I'm working on. I mean, I didn't watch the latest Battlestar. You know it's bad when I consider watching an episode of TV that I like to be a chore.
But I did manage to spend the entire day in my pajamas, and if you are feeling overworked, overstressed, sick of the stuff you do and the people you see every day, and are looking for some way to tell the world to go fuck itself, I have a whole list of suggestions of things you can do with your time! Consider it a public service announcement. After all, then I can say I did accomplish something today.
1. Play Sirtet. Yes, it is Tetris spelled backwards. Just like Tetris, it will take control of your life if you let it. It will make you think in tetrads, and it's great for when you're sick of Tetris but want to play a game instead of dealing with your life. Plus the sound effects are hilarious.
2. Do some meaningless research on Wikipedia. Did you know that there was a cartoon in the 80s starring Strawberry Shortcake, a cute little redhead in a white pinafore who lived in Strawberryland? Maybe you did. But did you know she had a sidekick called Raspberry Tart? Isn't that awesome? Her nemesis was the Purple Pie Man, which also sounds vaguely dirty. And apparently her friend Plum Puddin' started out as a boy, disappeared for a few episodes, and reappeared as a girl. Strawberry did not appear to notice.
3. Watch an old movie. Speaking of the 80s, I take pleasure in informing you that the entirety of the 1983 epic movie WarGames is available for your viewing pleasure on YouTube. I don't know how you can not love Matthew Broderick (looking about 15) and Ally Sheedy (looking about 25) as high school seniors who break into the government missile defense system because they want to play Global Thermonuclear War. There are so many awesome things in that movie, but as a teaser I'll just note that Matthew Broderick hotwires his way out of his defense department lockup using scissors and an 8-track.
4. Take a nap. This sounds boring even to me, but I have to say, I took a nap last night (3 hours), got a good night's sleep (9 hours) and had another nap this afternoon (4 hours) and I finally feel like I'm approaching some kind of clear-headedness. This is the most alert and cognizant I've felt in days.
5. Read a book. I'm in the middle of John Barrowman's autobiography, Anything Goes, right now, and it's so delightfully showbiz-y. (John Barrowman is a big West End musical star, but I know him from Doctor Who and Torchwood, where he plays Captain Jack, and the bit musical parts he had in De-Lovely and The Producers.) His book is a lot of fun, and one of the few things I can bear to read at the moment (stress has killed the book-loving part of my brain). But this book is the opposite of stress - Barrowman is a crackup. He's flamingly gay, he's apparently a total prankster on set, and he's got tons and tons of great stories. Oh, he sounds a little arrogant, and I'm not sure if I'd be friends with him forever or anything, but I love his acting, I love his singing, and I can now say I love his writing (apparently his sister helped him out with the book, and I must say I approve of her as well). And every once in awhile, maybe once every three or four chapters, he writes about something so true, for better or for worse, in the world of arts and theater, that it makes me put down the book and just smile for a few minutes. Right, I think, this is the world that I belong to.
6. Update your blog. Whee!
But I did manage to spend the entire day in my pajamas, and if you are feeling overworked, overstressed, sick of the stuff you do and the people you see every day, and are looking for some way to tell the world to go fuck itself, I have a whole list of suggestions of things you can do with your time! Consider it a public service announcement. After all, then I can say I did accomplish something today.
1. Play Sirtet. Yes, it is Tetris spelled backwards. Just like Tetris, it will take control of your life if you let it. It will make you think in tetrads, and it's great for when you're sick of Tetris but want to play a game instead of dealing with your life. Plus the sound effects are hilarious.
2. Do some meaningless research on Wikipedia. Did you know that there was a cartoon in the 80s starring Strawberry Shortcake, a cute little redhead in a white pinafore who lived in Strawberryland? Maybe you did. But did you know she had a sidekick called Raspberry Tart? Isn't that awesome? Her nemesis was the Purple Pie Man, which also sounds vaguely dirty. And apparently her friend Plum Puddin' started out as a boy, disappeared for a few episodes, and reappeared as a girl. Strawberry did not appear to notice.
3. Watch an old movie. Speaking of the 80s, I take pleasure in informing you that the entirety of the 1983 epic movie WarGames is available for your viewing pleasure on YouTube. I don't know how you can not love Matthew Broderick (looking about 15) and Ally Sheedy (looking about 25) as high school seniors who break into the government missile defense system because they want to play Global Thermonuclear War. There are so many awesome things in that movie, but as a teaser I'll just note that Matthew Broderick hotwires his way out of his defense department lockup using scissors and an 8-track.
4. Take a nap. This sounds boring even to me, but I have to say, I took a nap last night (3 hours), got a good night's sleep (9 hours) and had another nap this afternoon (4 hours) and I finally feel like I'm approaching some kind of clear-headedness. This is the most alert and cognizant I've felt in days.
5. Read a book. I'm in the middle of John Barrowman's autobiography, Anything Goes, right now, and it's so delightfully showbiz-y. (John Barrowman is a big West End musical star, but I know him from Doctor Who and Torchwood, where he plays Captain Jack, and the bit musical parts he had in De-Lovely and The Producers.) His book is a lot of fun, and one of the few things I can bear to read at the moment (stress has killed the book-loving part of my brain). But this book is the opposite of stress - Barrowman is a crackup. He's flamingly gay, he's apparently a total prankster on set, and he's got tons and tons of great stories. Oh, he sounds a little arrogant, and I'm not sure if I'd be friends with him forever or anything, but I love his acting, I love his singing, and I can now say I love his writing (apparently his sister helped him out with the book, and I must say I approve of her as well). And every once in awhile, maybe once every three or four chapters, he writes about something so true, for better or for worse, in the world of arts and theater, that it makes me put down the book and just smile for a few minutes. Right, I think, this is the world that I belong to.
6. Update your blog. Whee!
19.1.09
Stress Test
... is what this rehearsal process is turning out to be. And my reaction? Avoidance. As usual. I just want to stay home and drink cocoa and knit and maybe read. And watch TV. And not deal with rehearsals.
I know it's good for me to be this uncomfortable, and I'm learning and growing and blee blee blee, but being uncomfortable is still just... uncomfortable. Which is the kind of thing you always forget, isn't it? I'm always like, oh, Of COURSE I Would Suffer For My ART, yadda yadda, but I only ever say that when I forget about the actual "suffering" part. I Would Be Mildly Inconvenienced For My Art, more like, or I Would Do Things That Other People Might Consider Boring Or Annoying, But Which In Fact I Enjoy For My Art. Doesn't have quite the same ring though.
In other news: annoying things about Britain, part 26: Tesco's just changed its hours, and now is only open until 5pm on Sundays. DUDE, Tesco. That is sucktastic. First of all, Sunday is my only day off, so it's not like I can just stop in tomorrow. Secondly, I celebrate my days off by sleeping until mid-afternoon. It took me until five to find my damn jeans in the first place. When am I supposed to do my shopping if you're not open until 9? Thirdly, SAINSBURY'S manages to be open until 9, and so does the local co-op, and so yes, I can take my business elsewhere, sure, but Sainsburys stuff generally costs double what the same stuff at Tesco would cost, and I don't have very much money. Also, the Sainsbury's that is open late on Sundays has a much less impressive selection, AND I don't know where stuff is so it takes longer, AND they do not have individual green bell peppers, which is annoying. They have peppers, but they sell them in packs of three, one green, one yellow, one red, as if the green peppers might be planning a hostile takeover and they don't want the red peppers to end up picking cotton and riding on the back of the bus. Dude, Sainsbury's. They are PEPPERS. I only need one color. Also, your prices are atrocious. I do, however, support the fact that you sell elderflower cordial, now that the campus store has quit stocking it, in a shocking act of failure.
Also, I totally can't believe Obama is actually getting inaugurated! Yahoo! Especially since this last round of press conferences for W has made me hate him more than I thought possible. For serious. I thought I was used to the whole thing, but seeing his smirk now infuriates me and I have to go lie down and knit for like an hour.
Not that that isn't all I do anyway.
I know it's good for me to be this uncomfortable, and I'm learning and growing and blee blee blee, but being uncomfortable is still just... uncomfortable. Which is the kind of thing you always forget, isn't it? I'm always like, oh, Of COURSE I Would Suffer For My ART, yadda yadda, but I only ever say that when I forget about the actual "suffering" part. I Would Be Mildly Inconvenienced For My Art, more like, or I Would Do Things That Other People Might Consider Boring Or Annoying, But Which In Fact I Enjoy For My Art. Doesn't have quite the same ring though.
In other news: annoying things about Britain, part 26: Tesco's just changed its hours, and now is only open until 5pm on Sundays. DUDE, Tesco. That is sucktastic. First of all, Sunday is my only day off, so it's not like I can just stop in tomorrow. Secondly, I celebrate my days off by sleeping until mid-afternoon. It took me until five to find my damn jeans in the first place. When am I supposed to do my shopping if you're not open until 9? Thirdly, SAINSBURY'S manages to be open until 9, and so does the local co-op, and so yes, I can take my business elsewhere, sure, but Sainsburys stuff generally costs double what the same stuff at Tesco would cost, and I don't have very much money. Also, the Sainsbury's that is open late on Sundays has a much less impressive selection, AND I don't know where stuff is so it takes longer, AND they do not have individual green bell peppers, which is annoying. They have peppers, but they sell them in packs of three, one green, one yellow, one red, as if the green peppers might be planning a hostile takeover and they don't want the red peppers to end up picking cotton and riding on the back of the bus. Dude, Sainsbury's. They are PEPPERS. I only need one color. Also, your prices are atrocious. I do, however, support the fact that you sell elderflower cordial, now that the campus store has quit stocking it, in a shocking act of failure.
Also, I totally can't believe Obama is actually getting inaugurated! Yahoo! Especially since this last round of press conferences for W has made me hate him more than I thought possible. For serious. I thought I was used to the whole thing, but seeing his smirk now infuriates me and I have to go lie down and knit for like an hour.
Not that that isn't all I do anyway.
11.1.09
Perfected Techniques of Procrastination
That's the title of a demonstrative speech I gave in the sixth grade. I was a natural talent then, and I have turned it into a science now. When are my two essays, research work, lines, and choreography work due? That would be.... just under twelve hours from now. How many of those five things are done? Two. Go me!
Well, everything else is pretty near done... or, you know, not totally far away from being done... Okay, two things are very close to being done, and the other one I'm going to work on right now, as soon as I update my blog, and maybe knit a round, and read some online comics, and maybe talk to a friend...
Eh, yeah, I know. I know. It's disgraceful. I know. But it will be done, and it will be done on time, and then I will start rehearsals with a relatively clear conscience. Yes. This will happen.
In other weekly news, my sleep cycle has continued disastrous, (well, it would be awesome if I were planning to go to California, say, tomorrow. Since I'm not, but instead planning to reintegrate myself into English society tomorrow, it's a little more worrisome.) For the last four days I've tried to get up at a reasonable hour, but my sleeping brain is a stubborn bastard and knows I set my alarm not because I need to get up but because I think I ought to get up. My sleeping brain has no patience for that kind of nonsense. I hear the alarms, I vaguley remember thoughts along the lines of "make the bad noise STOP", I remember turning off the alarms, and then my memory fades out. Not because I stumbled out of my room to get a cup of tea, no, but because I stumbled back into bed and curled back up under the covers. Then I wake up AT SUNSET, and it's the most depressing thing in the world, and I stay in bed for another hour being miserable that I slept the whole damn day away.
That is something else, however, that will stop tomorrow. Because TOMORROW, I am going to get up, and be awesome, and turn this stuff in, and go to rehearsal all afternoon and evening.
Plus, don't even get me started on the drama of trying to get my laundry done.
I got around to lots of things, though, while I was busy NOT getting around to my paper. No, I did! I watched two movies that I own but had never seen before the other day. One was The French Lieutenant's Woman, with the amazingness that is Meryl Streep and the sexiness that is Jeremy Irons. I have to say, however, that having heard that it's the most romantic movie ever made, I was expecting it to be more... romantic. Meryl Streep IS amazing,but if it had been any other actress in that role, I would have hated her and might have stopped watching altogether. I might have stuck around for Jeremy Irons, who is gorgeous, and was very sexy back before I was born, seventies hair and all. But the love story.... kind of eh. They look at each other longingly a lot, and sometimes kiss passionately in exotic locales. But dude, you can do that with practically anybody. I look at my fridge longingly a lot (though I have yet to kiss it passionately in any locale, exotic or otherwise). Conversation? Mutual interests, besides showing the whites of your eyes? Compatible personalities? Huh, what? Disappointing.
The other movie was a documentary entitled Shakespeare Behind Bars. I love it passionately. In fact, I loved it so much that I'm a little hesitant to recommend it, knowing that if someone had recommended it to me at any point before I watched it myself, I would have put it aside forever. I don't know if it's just a quirk of me or if it's common to everybody, but as soon as someone tells me a movie is "really good" because it will "make [me] think," or it's "really deep" or any nonsense like that, I write it off. I still haven't seen The Hobart Shakespeareans, mostly for that reason, even though I know it's good and I know I'll like it. The same thing almost happened with Slings and Arrows, although I got over that. Some part of me is always like, "movies and TV are for entertainment, not thinking! Screw you!" and I never see it.
I would hate for anyone to write off Shakespeare Behind Bars for that reason, so I won't say that it's deep (it is), that it will make you think (it will) or that you really should see it before you die (you should). I'll just say, I loved it. It's a documentary about a program at a high-security Kentucky prison where the inmates spend nine months of the year working on a Shakespeare play. They cast themselves, they have a volunteer (from outside) as a director, and they just go embrace the text and knock themselves out. And it's absolutely amazing. The doc is about the year they did The Tempest, but you don't have to know the play, they explain the plot and themes and all. Not surprisingly, they really go for the theme of forgiveness (a prominent one in that show), and explore it through all the characters. The actor playing Antonio gets put in solitary confinement, and they have to recast. The actors in general go all the way -- the guy playing Miranda is a thirty-something man, and he absolutely relates to it and draws it right into his life. And they all tell you what their sentences are, and why they're in prison, and then they do Shakespeare, and it's mesmerizing. Even if you don't like Shakespeare. Even if you don't like documentaries. Especially if you don't like prison inmates. It just blew me away.
So that is what I have to say about it, and if it doesn't put you off, may I suggest renting it as soon as possible. Shakespeare Behind Bars. Crazy good.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have lines to learn.
Well, everything else is pretty near done... or, you know, not totally far away from being done... Okay, two things are very close to being done, and the other one I'm going to work on right now, as soon as I update my blog, and maybe knit a round, and read some online comics, and maybe talk to a friend...
Eh, yeah, I know. I know. It's disgraceful. I know. But it will be done, and it will be done on time, and then I will start rehearsals with a relatively clear conscience. Yes. This will happen.
In other weekly news, my sleep cycle has continued disastrous, (well, it would be awesome if I were planning to go to California, say, tomorrow. Since I'm not, but instead planning to reintegrate myself into English society tomorrow, it's a little more worrisome.) For the last four days I've tried to get up at a reasonable hour, but my sleeping brain is a stubborn bastard and knows I set my alarm not because I need to get up but because I think I ought to get up. My sleeping brain has no patience for that kind of nonsense. I hear the alarms, I vaguley remember thoughts along the lines of "make the bad noise STOP", I remember turning off the alarms, and then my memory fades out. Not because I stumbled out of my room to get a cup of tea, no, but because I stumbled back into bed and curled back up under the covers. Then I wake up AT SUNSET, and it's the most depressing thing in the world, and I stay in bed for another hour being miserable that I slept the whole damn day away.
That is something else, however, that will stop tomorrow. Because TOMORROW, I am going to get up, and be awesome, and turn this stuff in, and go to rehearsal all afternoon and evening.
Plus, don't even get me started on the drama of trying to get my laundry done.
I got around to lots of things, though, while I was busy NOT getting around to my paper. No, I did! I watched two movies that I own but had never seen before the other day. One was The French Lieutenant's Woman, with the amazingness that is Meryl Streep and the sexiness that is Jeremy Irons. I have to say, however, that having heard that it's the most romantic movie ever made, I was expecting it to be more... romantic. Meryl Streep IS amazing,but if it had been any other actress in that role, I would have hated her and might have stopped watching altogether. I might have stuck around for Jeremy Irons, who is gorgeous, and was very sexy back before I was born, seventies hair and all. But the love story.... kind of eh. They look at each other longingly a lot, and sometimes kiss passionately in exotic locales. But dude, you can do that with practically anybody. I look at my fridge longingly a lot (though I have yet to kiss it passionately in any locale, exotic or otherwise). Conversation? Mutual interests, besides showing the whites of your eyes? Compatible personalities? Huh, what? Disappointing.
The other movie was a documentary entitled Shakespeare Behind Bars. I love it passionately. In fact, I loved it so much that I'm a little hesitant to recommend it, knowing that if someone had recommended it to me at any point before I watched it myself, I would have put it aside forever. I don't know if it's just a quirk of me or if it's common to everybody, but as soon as someone tells me a movie is "really good" because it will "make [me] think," or it's "really deep" or any nonsense like that, I write it off. I still haven't seen The Hobart Shakespeareans, mostly for that reason, even though I know it's good and I know I'll like it. The same thing almost happened with Slings and Arrows, although I got over that. Some part of me is always like, "movies and TV are for entertainment, not thinking! Screw you!" and I never see it.
I would hate for anyone to write off Shakespeare Behind Bars for that reason, so I won't say that it's deep (it is), that it will make you think (it will) or that you really should see it before you die (you should). I'll just say, I loved it. It's a documentary about a program at a high-security Kentucky prison where the inmates spend nine months of the year working on a Shakespeare play. They cast themselves, they have a volunteer (from outside) as a director, and they just go embrace the text and knock themselves out. And it's absolutely amazing. The doc is about the year they did The Tempest, but you don't have to know the play, they explain the plot and themes and all. Not surprisingly, they really go for the theme of forgiveness (a prominent one in that show), and explore it through all the characters. The actor playing Antonio gets put in solitary confinement, and they have to recast. The actors in general go all the way -- the guy playing Miranda is a thirty-something man, and he absolutely relates to it and draws it right into his life. And they all tell you what their sentences are, and why they're in prison, and then they do Shakespeare, and it's mesmerizing. Even if you don't like Shakespeare. Even if you don't like documentaries. Especially if you don't like prison inmates. It just blew me away.
So that is what I have to say about it, and if it doesn't put you off, may I suggest renting it as soon as possible. Shakespeare Behind Bars. Crazy good.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have lines to learn.
28.12.08
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.
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.
20.11.08
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.
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.
11.11.08
"I will swear to study so, to know the thing I am forbid to know"
Yeah, um, that whole bit about promising to keep up with my blog when I left? *shrug* Ooops.
There's so many new things and so much is overwhelming, that it's always hard for me to write for a little while after first moving I think. Anyway, that's my excuse and I'll stick with it for now. To catch up I find I must list again.
1. Devon weather is both better and worse than I expected. There is actually occasional sunlight. Whee! I had no idea. It's thrilling. There is also HAIL. I HATE hail.
2. I don't want to say my program is better and worse than I expected, but in bits that's true. Tuesdays are my happy day: I have only one class, and it consists of theater games, ensemble building, and text work (three of my favorite things ever). My prof even made me enjoy a Dogberry scene today. I normally hate Dogberry. (Great miracles are being wrought, for reals. Last week, thanks to my other prof, I was able to conceive of a production of Hamlet that would actually have a point. I know! I too was shocked.) However, there is also a lot of slogging through Webster and Middleton plays. If I wanted to read Webster's plays, I would have signed up for a Webster course, uh duh.
3. Various aspects of university life are annoying, such as a dorm room that looks slightly like a prison, but various aspects are also enjoyable, such as living walking distance from everywhere I need to go, and having my friends over to watch Doctor Who with no planning involved.
4. Speaking of Doctor Who, and how I am in love with it, I have found a whole slew of DVDs of episodes from the sixties through the eighties. God bless the local library, exorbitant fees and all! I was a wee bit apprehensive, since I love the new one so, but after the first five minutes of "The War Machines" I am thrilled with my find. It's in black and white for crying out loud! It's ADORABLE. I love this Doctor with his monocle!
5. On the sad side, I wish my baby sis and my ducks were here to enjoy the awesome with me. How much do I miss my ducks? I love my new ensemble, but every time I learn a new theater game I feel like taking it home and teaching it to my ducks. I have like five saved up for you guys.
6. Cooking for myself is SO much more of a hassle without Trader Joe's. For fricking real.
7. The Brits join the majority of Americans in being very happy about our election results. My Obama t-shirts are big hits. However, the Brits will not get as much of my reciporical love until they learn to move out of the fricking way and let other people SHARE the sidewalk. Sharing is caring, you crazy wankers. Also, build some chairs with desks attached; taking lecture notes on my knees is annoying.
8. I wish I could offer some good book reccommends but I've been reading nothing but trash and plays lately. I will say that I am intrigued that they made a movie of a 16th century play and cast Christopher Eccleston as the lead. I think everyone should see it, but maybe only because I want to so badly.
9. I am hitting my self discipline issues again, but I have gotten a job (as one of those people everyone finds really annoying) and joined archery squad (though I was a bad girl and skipped it this evening in favor of relaxing in my newly clean room).
10. I'm sure I'll think of a ten once I post this; something I forgot to mention that everyone should see -- oh, my birthday was good. I had yummy cream tea and bought some new books. There, there's a ten.
There's so many new things and so much is overwhelming, that it's always hard for me to write for a little while after first moving I think. Anyway, that's my excuse and I'll stick with it for now. To catch up I find I must list again.
1. Devon weather is both better and worse than I expected. There is actually occasional sunlight. Whee! I had no idea. It's thrilling. There is also HAIL. I HATE hail.
2. I don't want to say my program is better and worse than I expected, but in bits that's true. Tuesdays are my happy day: I have only one class, and it consists of theater games, ensemble building, and text work (three of my favorite things ever). My prof even made me enjoy a Dogberry scene today. I normally hate Dogberry. (Great miracles are being wrought, for reals. Last week, thanks to my other prof, I was able to conceive of a production of Hamlet that would actually have a point. I know! I too was shocked.) However, there is also a lot of slogging through Webster and Middleton plays. If I wanted to read Webster's plays, I would have signed up for a Webster course, uh duh.
3. Various aspects of university life are annoying, such as a dorm room that looks slightly like a prison, but various aspects are also enjoyable, such as living walking distance from everywhere I need to go, and having my friends over to watch Doctor Who with no planning involved.
4. Speaking of Doctor Who, and how I am in love with it, I have found a whole slew of DVDs of episodes from the sixties through the eighties. God bless the local library, exorbitant fees and all! I was a wee bit apprehensive, since I love the new one so, but after the first five minutes of "The War Machines" I am thrilled with my find. It's in black and white for crying out loud! It's ADORABLE. I love this Doctor with his monocle!
5. On the sad side, I wish my baby sis and my ducks were here to enjoy the awesome with me. How much do I miss my ducks? I love my new ensemble, but every time I learn a new theater game I feel like taking it home and teaching it to my ducks. I have like five saved up for you guys.
6. Cooking for myself is SO much more of a hassle without Trader Joe's. For fricking real.
7. The Brits join the majority of Americans in being very happy about our election results. My Obama t-shirts are big hits. However, the Brits will not get as much of my reciporical love until they learn to move out of the fricking way and let other people SHARE the sidewalk. Sharing is caring, you crazy wankers. Also, build some chairs with desks attached; taking lecture notes on my knees is annoying.
8. I wish I could offer some good book reccommends but I've been reading nothing but trash and plays lately. I will say that I am intrigued that they made a movie of a 16th century play and cast Christopher Eccleston as the lead. I think everyone should see it, but maybe only because I want to so badly.
9. I am hitting my self discipline issues again, but I have gotten a job (as one of those people everyone finds really annoying) and joined archery squad (though I was a bad girl and skipped it this evening in favor of relaxing in my newly clean room).
10. I'm sure I'll think of a ten once I post this; something I forgot to mention that everyone should see -- oh, my birthday was good. I had yummy cream tea and bought some new books. There, there's a ten.
29.9.08
Now set [my] long-experienced wit to school
Um. *blinks*
The basic stuff: I've arrived in England, safely. The flight was no more miserable than flights usually are. I have made it to campus, unpacked my suitcases, and settled into my dorm room. Okay, I'll be even more settled once my books get here, but I have unpacked everything and put up pictures on my wall and put my clothes away and brushed my teeth. I crash landed on my bet at about 7:40 and slept a full nine hours. My dehydrated-migraine headache is finally gone (knock wood).
And I'm not really able to think in complete sentences. All my little thoughts are separate.
Thoughts like: Why doesn't my dorm have any toilet paper? And is it my job to buy some? 'Cause I live here with nine other people, and we all share toilets.
And: This campus is huge, and very pretty but kind of scary in its ginormousness.
And: I am truly back in a dorm, and this is weirding me out a little. Even if it does have a kitchen, it is still a dorm.
And: I miss my books and I hope they get here soon.
And: I am lonely here.
And: It was a beautiful day today, but how long will it last?
And: I'm going to really like this campus except it's huge and I don't know my way around.
And: I want to meet people, but it is hard because I get more shy when I am tired.
And: I know I overpack, but thank God for all my stuff because otherwise I would be courting depression. (How shallow!)
And: I want this week of "induction" (would it kill you guys to add the extra syllable? "Tro," ladies and gents. Three little letters) to be over so I can just get used to being here already instead of being discombobulated.
And: I think I need more sleep.
And that is all the thinks I can think right now.
The basic stuff: I've arrived in England, safely. The flight was no more miserable than flights usually are. I have made it to campus, unpacked my suitcases, and settled into my dorm room. Okay, I'll be even more settled once my books get here, but I have unpacked everything and put up pictures on my wall and put my clothes away and brushed my teeth. I crash landed on my bet at about 7:40 and slept a full nine hours. My dehydrated-migraine headache is finally gone (knock wood).
And I'm not really able to think in complete sentences. All my little thoughts are separate.
Thoughts like: Why doesn't my dorm have any toilet paper? And is it my job to buy some? 'Cause I live here with nine other people, and we all share toilets.
And: This campus is huge, and very pretty but kind of scary in its ginormousness.
And: I am truly back in a dorm, and this is weirding me out a little. Even if it does have a kitchen, it is still a dorm.
And: I miss my books and I hope they get here soon.
And: I am lonely here.
And: It was a beautiful day today, but how long will it last?
And: I'm going to really like this campus except it's huge and I don't know my way around.
And: I want to meet people, but it is hard because I get more shy when I am tired.
And: I know I overpack, but thank God for all my stuff because otherwise I would be courting depression. (How shallow!)
And: I want this week of "induction" (would it kill you guys to add the extra syllable? "Tro," ladies and gents. Three little letters) to be over so I can just get used to being here already instead of being discombobulated.
And: I think I need more sleep.
And that is all the thinks I can think right now.
20.9.08
I Must to England; You Know That?
My room gets steadily barer and barer. My books are gone - moved into Mom's basement today. (Well done, me.) Tonight I have taken my posters off the walls. Knickknacks are getting packed up. Half my furniture is going out on Sunday. Mom and I went shopping today (THANK YOU MOM) and I got the most adorable knee-length wool pea coat ever. I am really and truly going, you guys.
As my date of departure approaches, my blind fear is retreating. Doctor Who has helped with that (I get to go to Christopher Eccleston's country? Awesome). So has, in an odd way, packing itself. I loathe packing, but once I really get going it's sort of horribly familiar, and I can get into its creepy mindset. Take with, save, throw out. Take with, save, throw out. I'm shipping an ungodly number of boxes ahead of me (okay, two and a half, but they are wicked heavy - so many Shakespeare books). And with the new clothes, all of which are all long sleeve sweater-y type stuff for cold weather. And my syllabus for my first class which arrived via email today. (I am very excited about reading Marlowe's Faustus, but I really hope I like it better than Goethe's. Goethe's Faust is just imbecilic. The devil screws you over, and you're . . . surprised? For real?)
My brain comes through again. For now. Who knows how I'll feel the day of, but getting things done this week has been good for my soul.
As my date of departure approaches, my blind fear is retreating. Doctor Who has helped with that (I get to go to Christopher Eccleston's country? Awesome). So has, in an odd way, packing itself. I loathe packing, but once I really get going it's sort of horribly familiar, and I can get into its creepy mindset. Take with, save, throw out. Take with, save, throw out. I'm shipping an ungodly number of boxes ahead of me (okay, two and a half, but they are wicked heavy - so many Shakespeare books). And with the new clothes, all of which are all long sleeve sweater-y type stuff for cold weather. And my syllabus for my first class which arrived via email today. (I am very excited about reading Marlowe's Faustus, but I really hope I like it better than Goethe's. Goethe's Faust is just imbecilic. The devil screws you over, and you're . . . surprised? For real?)
My brain comes through again. For now. Who knows how I'll feel the day of, but getting things done this week has been good for my soul.
19.9.08
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.
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