T.O.W. HNT: Oil on Canvas- Flower In The Nude
Oilin` up and layin` out. Yep, it`s that time of year. And boy, do I get brown. This time, I waxed a bit artistic and this is what came out. Mmm, it`s hot out.
Enjoy!
Ciao.
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June 28, 2007
June 27, 2007
T.O.W. I Must Write An Angry Letter
May I lodge a complaint? I am in the process of updating my audition schedule for the coming year. You see, many theatres in the DFW Metroplex just announced or will shortly announce their seasons. I`m lining up auditions starting from the end of my run in Into the Woods through this time next year, folks. And here`s my complaint:
What`s with all the weirdo, f*cked-up, nobody-has-ever-heard-of-them, artsy-fartsy shows?
I mean, come on.
Okay, I understand theatres get tired of doing Oklahoma, Little Shop, Cabaret, and Into the Woods. And god knows every theatre wants to boast things like `Regional Premiere` or `Texas Premiere`, crap like that. Plus, it seems that shows go through phases and spread like viruses, which is something to be avoided IMHO. One theatre does it, five others follow. Recent examples? Forum. Urinetown. Ragtime. And those are all terrific shows.
But when you have Top Notch Equity House X putting on and then one month later Pee-Diddly Community Theatre X puts on the same show, you`re setting yourself up for humiliation in a lot of cases. I know I sound harsh, but it`s those same people who get pissed off when they can`t fill a house (Here`s another tip: quit playing favorites and cast the talented people). But if I see The Shadow Box or Move Over Mrs. Markham or that damn `Man in the Moon Marigolds` whatever-it-is in a season list one more time, I`m going to set myself on fire. On fire, I tell you! (and same goes for Nunsense, but that`s just me)
Right now is a tough time for a lot of community theatres in the Metroplex. If an organization like PRT can be toppled, we should still all be afraid, very afraid. And it`s not a time for whacko, new-age crap that you need production notes to follow. You gotta spend money to make money, and it`s time to pull out the big guns, people!
And no, I`m talking about the tired old standards (Carousel, ahem, Hello Dolly). As much as it pains me to say, go for Lloyd-Webber. Go for Disney (Beauty and the Beast is making the rounds, follow the leader if you must). Go for Kander & Ebb (yes, I know Chicago is expensive). Hell, go for true music genius and do Gershwin or Coleman or Porter.
Get a couple of those in, balance out the season schedule between the random and the shows-people-actually-want-to-see. And for god`s sake, can I just ask what`s wrong with tap-dancing? Anyway, do that, and then talk to me about adding your Man In The Moon Marigolds.
Thank you. The End.
::steps down::
June 26, 2007
T.O.W. I Love Summer
Yes, yes I do. ANd it`s the first summer I`ve been brave enough to start experimenting with my camera. I`ve started doing little photo shoots with things, well, me. Not to mention things like flowers and the natural rock waterfall in our pool.
So. . .if you`ve managed to get down here after staring at my tanned shoulder ;-), here are a few artistic (very loose term) shots I took.
T.O.W. This Is The Way It Should Be
(an aside: So, today I found out something that made me question my self-proclaimed status of Pop Culture Expert. Jennifer Grey, of Dirty Dancing fame, is the daughter of legendary Broadway veteran Joel Grey. Huh. ::ducks head sheepishly::)
Okay, can I tell you how much I`m going to love working with a professional theatre company? Oh. My. God. I get a call this morning from a member of the student and professional cast, a guy (well, a kid) named Alex.
`Hello, Miss Huffman? This is Alex with OhLook. I am calling to schedule your one-on-one libretto coaching for this week.`
Um, what? One-on-one `libretto coaching`? I must have sat there in stunned silence for too long, so he went on to explain:
`The student cast members are rehearsing every night this week, but because you`ve done the show before and are part of the professional company we want to take up as little of your time as necessary until staging rehearsals start next week.`
Actual respect for my time and experience? Really?
It`s the Community Theatre Twilight Zone, folks!
Well, I managed to get over the shock and find my voice again; I told Alex that Wednesday and Thursday for an hour each night should be sufficient for what I am assuming is a fancy name for music rehearsals. But he wasn`t quite done.
`Also, Miss Huffman, we need to know when you would like to receive your paycheck and if you would like your costume pieces laundered.`
Costume pieces? Laundered? As in someone else washing my sweaty bloomers?
Well, Alex also explained I will get fitted for my costume at the first of my two private `libretto coachings`. Apparently, they are renting the costumes from various equity house productions, along with the sets (go into Google Images sometime and check out some of the amazing sets that have been done for this show).
After securing my jaw back onto my face, I told Alex I do not mind getting paid once I have fulfilled my obligation of 5 weeks` rehearsal and a 3-week run. And hell yes, I want my costumes pieces laundered. He laughed and told me he looked forward to meeting me (he is playing Jack, my `son`, in both the student and professional casts).
I don`t want to speak too soon, but I think I could get used to this.
(another aside: it is raining like ASS outside, and I have (a) a white blouse on, and (2) no umbrella. Impromptu wet t-shirt contest in the parking lot!)
June 25, 2007
T.O.W. I Will Go Into the Woods. . .And Far, Far Away?
Well, tomorrow I officially start music rehearsals for my turn as Jack`s Mother in Into the Woods in Grapevine. Yep, I decided to take the professional gig in the show I love in a new theatre full of new people and leave behind a lead role among friends. Looking back on it, I wonder why I even toiled over this one; and I realize now it was more integrity vs. ego than anything else. And I`m pretty damn sure I made the right decision. I actually cannot wait; it`s so exciting to be doing this show again, and with a professional company in a gorgeous venue. Not to mention getting paid for it. Paid. Like money. Paid. For acting. ::happy dance:: I haven`t quite decided what to do with my last night of freedom for a while, but I`m hoping it will involve cooking dinner, baking cookies, and watching T.V. It would have also involved a spot of swimming, but that was before the sky crapped buckets of rain for like the 137th day in a row. But still. . .sounds nice, eh?
Today, however, I am rather like a zombie. Yes, very zombie-esque indeed. I basically had zero weekend (more on that later, but let`s just say it involved the one kind of singing I do NOT like to do). I was actually thankful to come into work this morning, albeit on 4 hours sleep (would have been more, but the libido wouldn`t stand for it). Now the relief of being at work has rather worn off, and I`m about to chew my hand off because I still have another hour to SIT HERE AND DO NOTHING. Have I ever mentioned I like to be busy? Yeah, thought so.
Meanwhile, the GTF and I are about to start making some big decisions. The first and not least of which is if, when, and where to get married. I know, I just vacu-sucked all the romance out of that, didn`t I? But really, it affects everything else we`re talking about. Are we going to stay in this house? Are we going to stay in Dallas? Are we even going to stay in Texas? Colorado and New York have both come up, as has New England. Where do we want to have kids? Wherein lies the best opportunity for our jobs to be simply a means to an end in order focus on other things we want to try (theatre, writing, singing, traveling. . .)? One thing`s for damn sure- we both desperately need a change of pace. For him it had to do with his job, for me it`s more about living somewhere outside of Texas and in general spreading my wings.
No, nothing`s for sure yet. It`s all preliminary planning at this point, but the anticipation is starting to build. We just have to do. . .something. And as comrades such as The Catpants can attest, it`s all rather exciting, isn`t it?
Until then, though. . . .WOO HOO!
June 20, 2007
T.O.W. HNT: Rub-a-Dub-Dub in the Summer-Sun-Sun
Day break soak in the tub. Now if only I could get him to join me. . .?
T.O.W. I Cannot Make Decisions
Rachel: Phoebe you can`t have both of them! You have to pick one!
Joey: Pick me!!
Ross: No! Pick me! I don`t want to end up an old maid!
Phoebe: All right well let`s see, Ross is a good father, but Joey has a boat. This is hard!
Well, the audition is over for Joseph. I went last night and DID hit the belted high E, though I was tentative throughout the song (having never auditioned with it before) and probably did not come across as charismatic as I would have liked. My other song, I Don`t Know How to Love Him from JCS, went well thought the pianist played it way too fast. I felt jittery and uneasy (most likely because I was late and I HATE being late), yet at the same time not really caring how I did. And it doesn`t help that whenever you announce you`re going to sing something from Wicked, everyone snaps to attention. It`s rather annoying. No pressure. Geez.
Anyhoo, The Arch Nemesis was there, as were so many, many Denton pals; as in half the casts of both Sweet Charity and La Mancha. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy when I walked in and literally 15 people ran up to say hi and hug me. And you what that did? It made me want to do another show there. ::snarl:: But I must keep my head on straight.
Why?
Well you see, ON THE WAY TO DENTON (I told you!), I received an email from the director in Grapevine. ::bangs head on desk:: Yeah. I have been offered the supporting lead role of Jack`s Mother in ITW. Sure, I`m a little disappointed but also am taking into account the director`s very obvious explanation of the nepotism involved (shocker). I also got a veiled `Pay your dues and reap the reward` kind of message from her email. Regardless, it`s still a great role; a show-stealer comic role if it`s played right and not bad considering I had one 10-minute singing audition.
But now I`m in a weird place. I have an offer for a smaller role; it`s a paid `professional` gig, new (and higher-level-of-talent) theatre, new people, one of my favorite shows. Then I have, at this point, just the possibility of a massive lead (unpaid) role in a familiar and comfortable place with people I know (both good and bad) with a director I`ve had to earn my reputation with show by show. The other issue is, if I make callbacks, they will be on Saturday, when I most likely be in Mason for my uncle`s funeral. And I haven`t decided whether to just take that as a sign, or to fight for it. . .meaning talk with the director and see what could be done. Bottom line?
I DON`T KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO!!!
I`ve gotten great advice from the GTF, family, theatre pals whose opinions I value and trust. But I still don`t know. I just don`t. I do know that if the director decides to dual-cast the Narrator role, and I am cast along with a certain other person (The Arch Nemesis) then there`s my answer. I don`t have the time, patience, or energy for all that diva sh*t. I think I would end up, at Catpants has said before, setting the girl on fire. But otherwise? I feel like, if cast, I` d be passing up a great opportunity and (unjustly) pissing off a director whose feelings are easily hurt and would not understand me turning him down for a PAID GIG.
But what I really don`t want to happen is to be sitting in rehearsal for one show, wondering the whole time what the other one would`ve been like. Here comes the Regret Monster! And as much as I obsess about it, I can`t seem to create the proper hypotheticals in my brain so as to gauge such a reaction in either case. Wow, that was a nerdy-sounding sentence.
Anyway, I am very indecisive. I`m even indecisive about whether to go to the second night of auditions tonight or not. The director`s wife is having a baby and he won`t be there; but the producer, music director, and choreographer will be. Plus some people from last night, plus more friends and quite possibly The Arch Nemesis. Is showing my face there tonight going to be worth my time? Will it improve my chances? Do I even want to improve my chances? Will it make up for the fact that I can`t be there Saturday, or will it make it worse? Do you people even give a sh*t? :-)
What my body wants to do is go home, make spaghetti, watch So You Think You Can Dance, and have sex. You would think that would clear it up, wouldn`t you?
WRONG.
June 19, 2007
T.O.W. I Must Aim To Please
Joey: I can`t stay too long, I gotta get up early for an audition tomorrow and I gotta look good. I`m supposed to be playing a 19-year-old.
Chandler: So when you said, `Get up early,` did you mean 1986?
Joey: You guys don`t think I look 19?
Phoebe: Oh, 19! We thought you said 90!
Well, T-minus four hours until the `Joseph` audition tonight. I STILL have not heard about ITW from Grapevine, and it`s rather starting to royally piss me off. If I did not make the show (which if I did not I`m going to be a bit annoyed at this point), strap on the balls or hitch up your boobies and tell me. Keeping me waiting is not going to make me suddenly say `Oops, forgot I even auditioned for that!`
So, in that spirit, I am trying out for another show. If I get a call from ITW after tonight (assuming I get cast tonight), I will have a choice to make, I guess. Good thing is, because I`m so focused on ITW I haven`t given even half a rat`s ass worth of thought about tonight. . .well, until about 30 minutes ago when I found out I need to be able to pop out a high-belt E.
Awesome.
So I spent my lunch hour singing Defying Gravity and The Wizard & I along with Miss Menzel. And good news, I have my high E today. Some days, it likes to hide in its little cave and not come out. Dirty b*tch. But it is definitely out today! Most likely because I haven`t been over-singing a lot lately; just some general maintenance. Still, whether or not I get cast tonight? Not worrying so much. Mostly because, due to recent experience, I have learned expecting anything under these circumstances at all is just plain stupid, and I will most likely be fed bullsh*t till the moon turns blue. BUT. That`s no excuse not to cover my ass and go. After all, I am going through serious doing-a-show withdrawal; auditioning at least takes the edge off a bit. Plus, it`ll be fun to see everyone, and I`ve worked with the director, the choreographer, and the music director.
So, many good thoughts about breaking many legs!
Ciao!
T.O.W. So I Do Not Think I Can Dance. . .
Ross: Hey, I know what’ll get us up on a platform!
Monica: What?
Ross: The routine!
Monica: Ross, we haven’t done the routine since middle school.
Ross: Hey, when the snippy guy sees the routine, he’ll wanna build us our own platform!
Monica: Was it really that good?
Ross: We got honourable mention in the brother/sister dance category! Look, it’s almost fake midnight, do we really have any other choice?
Monica: Okay, let’s do it. Mom and Dad are gonna be so faced!
So I trudged into the office kitchen this morning and put my $1.25 (RIP OFF!!!) in the machine for my morning caffeine kick. And instead of getting one 20-oz. Diet Coke, I got two! It`s gonna be THAT kind of day, is it? Hmmm. . .
Well, Grey`s Anatomy is on hiatus (is it wrong to say I`m relieved? That show wears me out and I can`t stand Izzie), Studio 60 got cancelled (::weeps::) and every other show I load onto my Replay T.V. is done until August or September. What does that leave?
If I am completely honest, SYTYCD is my favorite reality talent show over American Idol. I`m willing to admit that I think AI has run its course; it`s produced several mediocre celebrities and only a couple of true standout talents, and now the show`s become not much more than a ratings juggernaut freak show. The producers waste more time focusing on bickering judges, gay-ass hosts, and borderline-psychotic talentless contestants. SYTYCD has city-wide cattle calls (with the people who make through to the second round getting handed a ticket to Vegas) and a few weirdos too (who can forget The Sex). But for the most part, they spent their initial episodes focusing on the wide range of ridiculously-talented dancers they find and all the different styles of dance there are out there. It`s fascinating to me.
SYTYCD is also produced by AI Executive Producer Nygel Lithgow, and Nygel himself serves as a judge. He can be a pompous, British ass like Simon, but I like him. I can`t help but think that AI may be his moneymaker, but SYTYCD speaks to his true passion, as he used to be a professional dancer. Ballroom champion Mary Murphy (kind of a scary cross between Paula Abdul and Fran Drescher) also judges, and the third seat rotates between people like hip-hop choreographer Shane Sparks (I`ve learned his choreography in dance classes) and lyrical genius Miah Michaels. Point being, there`s always a group of people who all actually know what they`re talking about, give useful critiques, and cover a wide range of dance styles.
I think another reason I am in love with SYTYCD is that I am able to take a step back from this show and enjoy the pure entertainment factor of it. I mean, I know enough to notice when one dancer is better than another. But I am a trained singer first, and that makes it hard to just sit back and enjoy AI. I am overly critical, there`s hardly anyone or anything that impresses me. And I`m mostly annoyed the whole time by the judges` opinions, song choices, and how stupid the American public is.
And okay, yeah, I also consider myself a dancer. I`ve taken ballet and jazz and modern, I rock at tap, and I can learn just about any combination taught at an audition or rehearsal. But after watching this show, I realize I am so far from anything any of these people can do. Especially things like Latin ballroom or crumping. They way these dancers use their bodies is inspiring and intimidating at the same time, and I know in my lifetime I will not have a need to dance like these people do. But putting all that aside, watching this form of art gets me pumped up and excited about what I do.
I know I sound like a mondo-cheesy loser to a lot of you right now, but I. love. this. show. It`s in the third season, and this is my second year to be hooked. Ballroom champion Benji Schwimmer won last year (half a million dollars and a Vegas contract), and he was my favorite the whole season. This year it`s really up for grabs, as there are 9 boys and 9 girls (2 got voted off already last week) who are beyond talented.
The way the show works is there are an equal number of boys and girls. They are paired up, and for the first 5 weeks of competition, the couples learn and perform a new dance combination together every week. Ballroom dancers are paired with break-dancers. Lyrical dancers are put together with hip-hop dancers. So it`s pretty much guaranteed that each week, at least one half of each pair will be severely challenged by the combination. And there`s everything from lyrical to hip hop to waltzing to tangoing to crumping, pop-and-locking, even show pop (musical theatre choreography), on and on and on.
The show`s focused on much more than just shining in your specialty. It`s about being able to learn new styles, working with a partner, displaying showmanship, and of course, the X Factor. Except on this show, the X Factor is both how each dancer appeals to the American public and also having chemistry as a `couple` and making that come across in the dancing. And wow, is it obvious when it`s not there.
Anyway, for the first five weeks, the pairs perform on Wednesday. Then American votes, and we are left with the bottom three couples on results night (during which there is a large group number). These six dancers must then `dance for their lives`, which involves doing a free-style dance of their choice for 30 seconds. Then the judges decide which boy and which girl from the bottom three couples will go home. Since it`s not necessarily a boy and girl that have been dancing together, contestants often find themselves with new partners when theirs get sent home. Ouch. The vote isn`t left totally up to America until they are down to 10 dancers. Then it`s every dancer for themselves.
I like that I am able to notice things that these professional dancers notice, when certain steps are missed or when the pair aren`t together. I can appreciate the complexity of the kind of steps they`re doing. But there`s no way I could watch a couple do the jive and tell if the boy isn`t “rocking into his front-steps” or if a crumper isn`t popping their wrists correctly. AND I LOVE IT.
Anyhoo, I am going to start doing mini-reviews each week, if for no other reason than I love this show and I need the writing practice. But I encourage all you creative, performing types (or those of you who like seeing guys in tight pants or girls in low-cut sequin leotards) to tune in on Wednesday nights. So you think you can dance!!
June 18, 2007
T.O.W.The Lovely Lantana
Okay, just one more for tonight, I swear. Lantana have to be one of my favorite flowers. My parents always grew them when I was a kid. See what I mean about going crazy with the digital macro function? I love my little Canon Elph!
T.O.W. The Daily Haul
A typical bowlful picked after work. . .and it`s only June!!! ::glee::
T.O.W. The Perfect Tomato
As I said, it`s time to start showing off the garden. I`m in the process of getting the Grau Minx Garden its own photo blog, but for now, here`s he most perect tomato I`ve ever seen. Of course I`m not biased!
T.O.W. The All-Around
Ross: You know what? I`m going to be happy this year. I`m going to make myself happy.
Chandler: Do you want us to leave the room, or. . .?
Wow, crazy weekend. Lots going on. My mind is just full, it feels like, between the contract-to-hire job, life with the GTF, family; with restlessness about my future endeavors (interpreted: I`m nearly 31), getting in shape, and money, etc., etc. ad nauseum.
The GTF`s surprise 40th birthday dinner at Trader Vic`s went off without a hitch. Everyone showed up on time, the TV staff was more than helpful in making sure GTF had absolutely NO idea both our respective in-town family members and friends were waiting in the back. The maitre`d would signal me each time another person arrived, as GTF and I sat at the incredibly AWESOME tiki bar and drank Mai Tais. When everyone had been seated, he gave me the thumbs up and led us back. YAY!!! It is nearly impossible to surprise the GTF, so I congratulated myself profusely for pulling that one off. Everyone had blast, and we dined like royalty (we better have for that kind of money- GOOD god).
I STILL don`t know about Into the Woods. I thought I had been turned down (by default due to ZERO feedback), what with no word from the director in almost 3 weeks. So I shot her an email thanking her for the opportunity, blah, blah, kiss a little ass, blah. Not 24 hours later, I got a response that basically said (1) she hadn`t even done the adult cast for ITW (there is an adult cast, and a teen cast which the adult cast will mentor), (2) I was still in consideration, and (3) asking if I was still available. SCORE!!!! I told her I was and that although I had 2 auditions coming up (and I do- one tonight and one tomorrow), that ITW was still my first choice (I dearly love this show). Well, that was almost a week ago and still. . .NOTHING. But I have not given up hope yet. I know she is rehearsing two other shows right now (Seussical and High School Musical) and ITW does not even start rehearsing for nearly 2 weeks. But it is driving me INSANE. So. . .send good thoughts for them to HURRY THE HELL UP. And in case anyone cares, my other two auditions are for Lyric Stage Irving (full season including Hello Dolly and Carousel) and Denton CT (Joseph, for which I will only take Narrator).
The 3-month contract portion of my contract-to-hire position in the recruiting field (I have basically started a new career path within the past year) is up in about 2 weeks, and I am nervous. And not because I haven`t done a good job or I don`t like it here or anything. I love it, in fact; I work with a fun bunch of gals, and the company absolutely ROCKS. But my position was a newly-created one, and a lot of whether or not I would go permanent depended on how valuable I made myself. The workload can get crazy (which I like), but the difficult level is pretty low for me, which makes it ideal for being able to become a sponge and soak up as much knowledge as I can about the recruiting industry. As far as things I have control over, I think I`ve done all I can do. But now I`m just nervous over something I have no control over. Useful, huh?
Since thisis the first regular, well-paying job I`ve had since leaving the oil and has business LAST March, my finances took a hit for quite awhile and things were, to say the least, irregular and unsteady. This, my friends, makes me CRAZY. I`m used to having everything under control, on time, don`t have to think about it. It`s always been an area of my life time where my parents didn`t really teach me how to manage money, so my Monica Geller-ish OCD is quite useful. During my ill-dated marriage, I was with someone who could not manage money, and it made me K-razy. As a divorcee, I did great, had everything under control for a while, then the whole job shift thing happened and threw everything off again. Of course, this had to coincide with me moving in with the GTF. This made me feel like even more of a loser because then I just felt like a moocher (even though he makes a ton more than I do, but still). Not many things stress me out more than money problems, and feeling like I`m not pulling my weight. And I find it amazing how long it takes to get truly and fully caught up. I mean geez. Seriously. But. . .it`s finally happening, and I`m at a point where I am ahead on everything again, I can continue to repair my credit (which took a nose-dive when my marriage did) and contribute to Household de GTF so I am no longer a MOOCHING LOSER. Whew. Feels good just to get that all out.
Our garden this year has been such a blessing. This is my second time EVER to do a garden, and I have discovered two things: (1) I managed to inherit a green thumb from both of my grandmothers (one has an acre-long garden in the country, the other can grow anything any vegetable in a pot) and (2) I am becoming quite accomplished at using the digital macro function on my camera to take amazing shots of our produce and flowers. This year we have tomatoes, green beans, cabbage, strawberries, okra, chives, cilantro, parsley, spinach, banana peppers, potatoes, as well as attempting to grow squash and onions. The garden gives me such a sense of accomplishment. It was hard work, as we grew most everything from seeds and managed to bring tomato and strawberry plants through the winter for a second season. We`ve also managed to win a very fierce battle with what I call the Nazi Caterpillar Army that attempted to take over the cabbage. Every day after work, I can look forward to having fresh produce to pick, not to mention dead-heading all of our flowers in order to maximize the blooms.
I`ve been bad about posting photos of our veggies and tropical plants, so I will start to filter them in here and there, much like the ever-talented Leesa. I`ve decided, in order to both maximize the myriad of photos I`ve taken and still stay anonymous, I am creating a photo blog solely for displaying photos of the Grau-Minx Garden 2007. I will start with posting initial planting and first month photos and proceed from there. Yay! Project!
If this all isn`t enough, I have list of what must be 25 things I want to do, from taking a vacation, to getting more involved in photography, to writing music, to living somewhere besides Texas. . .it just goes on and on and on. I know this slightly-manic mindset is coming partly from what has happened with my uncle. It1s like you see someone else`s life cut short and it makes you want to not pass up any opportunities. And sure, it`s overwhelming; but it sure is nice to be wanting to do things again and knowing I have the ability and the time and the good health to do them.
I think I`ll stop rambling now, for those of you still reading (Bravo!).
Ta-ta.
June 15, 2007
T.O.W. The (Nasty) Business
Monica: Hey Phoebe, come in the bathroom. I want to show you something.
Phoebe: Ugh, Monica, grow up.
Man I tell ya, there is nothing better than sitting in the ladies` restroom trying to quickly care of business and having to listen to other women fart and groan like farm animals (and I swear someone was pleasuring themselves but that`s beside the point). Are we catching the sarcasm? I mean, for the love of all that is good and holy, what did everyone eat today? Bean sandwiches with a side of broccoli? Jesus-tapdancing-Christ. Ew. Just ew.
I know, I know. We`re all humans with a**holes, and I need to go re-read `Everybody Poops`, blah-la-la-la-la. But sometimes it`s just overwhelmingly nasty, people. I wish there were more people who, like me, avoid doing their extra-nasty business in workplace bathrooms. If you have to proceed with said unpleasantness, at least hide in the stall until I leave so we don`t have the inevitably awkward run-into-each-other-in-the-hall moment where I see you, and all I can think about is how you fart like a rhinoceros with IBS.
Seriously.
T.O.W. It Is Important to Remember That I Am a Young, Hot Piece of Ass
Chandler:Yep, you`ll just be the wife, the missus, the old ball and chain.
Monica: Old?
Chandler: Young, hot ball and chain.
Tomorrow** is my boyfriend`s (the GTF for those of you long-time readers who know our long sordid past) 40th birthday. And for the next month and a half, he will be an agonizing (agonizing for him, `Score!` for me) ten years older than me.
(** I will also briefly mention it is also my dad`s 59th birthday. Yes, the GTF is closer to my age than my dad`s so no `oogy` factor. It is also the day that my ex-husband is getting remarried. And just for sh*ts and giggles, it is also the birthday of dead-rapper-who-continues-to-put-out-albums Tupac Shakur.)
Yes, I do realize I just told the entire blogosphere that I am 30 and I will be 31 in late July (for those of you quick studies. And I share my birthday with Wesley Snipes, Charlie Chaplin`s daughter, and J.K. Rowling). I`m divorced and my ex is marrying what most surely is a blonde stick insect with porn star knockers. But I don`t care because I do not look 30 and. . .well, see the blog title.
But this is more for my sweetie`s benefit than mine, really. He`s been incredibly mopey about The Big 4-Oh, saying things like `I`m not a millionaire`, `I`m divorced`, `I have no children`, `I`m too attached to my Pomeranians`. . .you know, the usual list of things. And okay, when I turned 30, I was a bit of a b*tchy whiney baby. But he`s just plain pissed off. I mean, even past the point where flashing the girls at him at least gets a grin. Lately, the reaction has been more: `Oh. Those things. The useless sacks of milk meant to feed the children I don`t have.`
So I`ve had to remind him, both verbally and, um, physically, that he`s still young, successful and sexy. He has a good job, a gorgeous house, family, and friends. And he`s got Young, Hot Piece of Ass, and this should make him feel good, right? Right? Bueller? So far it`s as if that I fact am a YOHPA (my acronym) just makes him feel even older (talk about a backfire). Like he can`t keep up with me, or he`s worried that when he`s 60 and I`m 50 that I`m going to decide to become some college-boy-hungry Cougar. But I haven`t given up. No, not yet.
It`s time to bring out the heavy hitter, boys and girls, and it`s called the school girl uniform.
::wink::
Ciao.
June 14, 2007
T.O.W. I Pray
My uncle has been sick for two years. With cancer. He had lung cancer, then brain cancer, then liver cancer. He`s been through chemp and radiation and experimental drugs. Last week, it spread to his blood, his bones, and the nerves in his brain and spine. And now he`s dying.
As in right now.
As in tonight.
Monday, they took him off the feeding tube and everything artificial and it looked like he would not make it through the night. Now it`s three days later and he hung on. Hung on long enough for my grandparents to get back here from the Hill Country where he and my dad and thei other sibliings grew up.
He`s dying.
And now I`m praying. Not as much for some awe-inspiring miracle, but for peace. Peace for his embattled, nearly-estranged wife. Peace for his college-age daughter, my cousin. Peace for my grandparents who are losing a son. Peace for my dad who is losing a brother. And peace for me and my brother and my mom and everyone else to understand the magnitude of this, the first untimely loss my big, happy German family has ever suffered.
I mostly think of my grandparents, in their eighties but verile and active, their faith crushed as they wonder why God would take their son. And this song my Mark Schultz comes into my head. And I pray.
I`m down on my knees again tonight
I`m hoping this prayer will turn out right
See there is someone that needs Your help
I`ve done all that I can do myself
His mother is tired
I`m sure You can understnad
Each night as he sleeps
She goes in to hold his hand
And she tries not to cry
As the tears fill her eyes
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place somehow
See, he`s not just anyone
He`s her son
Sometimes late at night she watches him sleep
She dreams of the man he`d like to be
She tries to be strong and see him through
But God who he needs right now is You
Let him grow old
Live life without this fear
What would she be
Living without him here
He`s so tired and he`s scared
Let him know that You're there
Can You hear me?
Can You see him?
Please don`t leave him
He`s her son
T.O.W. My "Other" Job: The Early Years, Part II
Joey: `It`s called smell-the-fart acting!`
. . .and we`ll just say I didn`t get too far. Between Yelling Director and Pit Stain Piano Man, I forgot the words then asked if I could start over. That`s when the director says this:
`Just sing Happy Birthday.`
::recoils in horror::
Even me, inexperienced and unknowing as I was, knew this universal audition truth: singing Happy Birthday is what somebody does when (a) they are not a singer (aka they are a dancer or neither), or (b) they did not prepare anything because they are clueless. It`s pretty much the bottom of the totem pole when it come to singing at an audition. . . well, except for maybe lip-syncing to a CD. ::shudders::
Here I was, twelve years old, still obsessed with Annie and knowing nothing about Godspell, about to sing Happy Birthday accompanied by Pit Stain Piano Man. And so I did. Rather well, actually, though I`m sure my facial expression never changed and I distinctly remember fumbling with that damn neon pink headband stuffed in my pocket the entire time.
And then. . .silence.
I stood awaiting the verdict, which I was convinced would be `Don`t call us, we`ll call you.` Yelling Director leaned into his table minions, and after much muttering and head nodding he faced me and then said possibly the worst thing besides `Take off your clothes, bend over, and sing out of your ass.`
Rather, it was:
`Okay great, now sing `Happy Birthday` like a lounge singer.`
I laughed. I actually laughed, and not because I found this remotely amusing, but because I was sure Yelling Director was joking. I was twelve, for the love of Christ, and to me lounge singer equaled slutty equaled stripper equaled I needed to slither across the floor and sing all breathy like some child sex slave version of Marilyn Monroe. Which now, come to think of it, would have been better than what I did. At least it would have been creative and different and less like, well, Rainman.
Instead of laugh back, though, the director simply stared (interpreted: sneered) at me while Pit Stain Piano Man chuckled and the minions waited for me to further embarrass myself.
And I did not disappoint. I proceeded to pulled my neon pink top (decorated with outlines of bears. Yes, bears.) off one shoulder, ripping it in the process. I flipped my poorly-permed hair in front of one eye, leaned awkwardly against the piano and began to sing in a key about 37 steps too low. Oh. My. God.
I managed to croak out all 30 seconds of the tune (if you could call my rendition a tune at all), after which the entire group stared me for, I swear, at least a full minute.
And would you believe it? After that, they still wouldn`t let me leave. In fact, they told me to wait around to do something I`d never heard of. Something they called `improv`?
June 07, 2007
T.O.W. My "Other" Job: The Early Years, Part I
First, a Quick Audition Update
So. I haven`t heard anything from my big audition for Into the Woods, though I thought it went rather well. New theatre for me, nice director. I sang two songs, I read and sang for the Witch and the Baker`s Wife. That was almost two weeks ago. And NADA. Yeah. At this point, I wouldn`t mind hearing a rejection. Even a nasty one, like `I only hire opera singers and you are not one` or `your ass is too big for this stage`. Anything. I don`t even need constructive criticism or some tired-ol`-ass community theatre politics excuse. Just a simply `no` would suffice. M`kay? Thanks.
That`s the one thing (“One thing?” Sorry, joke from the movie `Clue`) about mastering the art of auditioning that becomes frustrating; auditioning becomes less about how good you feel walking away from it. After most of the auditions I attend these days, I can walk away knowing, if nothing else, this: I did the best could, and it was good. Damn good. And I mean that in the most modest way. ::grin:: I know I can walk into a group audition at a rather large number of community theatres (it gets harder when you get into the cream of the crop equity house auditions, though I can still hold my own there) and be one of the best singers there. My dancing is usually up to par and I`m a quick-on-my-toes cold reader.
But would you believe this was not always the case? ::gasp:: I know I know, SHOCKING isn`t it?
And Now: The Not-Ready-For-, Well,-Anything Player
Waaaaay back when I started auditioning for community theatre (a few years after my traumatic childhood experience in a Garland production of Tom Sawyer in which I wore a horrendous purple bonnet and broke off a front tooth when I fell down during the paint-the-fence song), I was one of those people you feel so sorry for that you simply wish the stage would swallow them whole and put them out of their misery. I was around 12 or 13 years old then, not a bad singer (but no vibrato). Had some dance training (but not much ballet, hence about as graceful as a three-legged pot-bellied pig). But I had a bad case of audition nerves, no confidence. More importantly, I had virtually no cold-reading, improvisation, or audition experience, and boy did it show.**
(**an aside: I don`t care if you can belt the high E in `Defying Gravity`, recite Shakespeare, AND do a mean triple pirouette. That doesn`t mean you`re a good auditioner. It`s like the seasoned professional who absolutely sucks at interviewing, or the math genius who is a horrible test-taker. If you can`t properly funnel your talent in a controlled environment, be flexible, and think on your feet, it pretty much doesn`t matter. And the only way to learn how to audition is to, well, audition. Sure, workshops can teach you what song to sing, what monologue to do. But the only way to look like a pro is to practice auditioning just like you practice the high E or the triple pirouette. Do it over and over and over again. My best method is to audition for shows I really have no desire to do. It`s a great way to get warmed up for that big one you really want, plus you get used to not expecting anything past a good, solid audition experience. Then when you get a callback or a role, it`s all gravy, baby! All those auditions also teach you how to keep your game-face on and it`s a great way to pick up new audition songs to boot.)
The show was Godspell, a kid`s version. Yep, a kid`s version of a show about Jesus-loving, tree-hugging, free-love-having hippies. I think I was twelve at the time, and my mom decided after I didn1t make it into GSM that summer (the first in a long line of summers that GSM refused to cast me, though lately it`s because I`m not a stick insect) I needed to do, well, something. I had just started formal voice training, and the only singing experience I had was my sixth grade play and lip-syncing `La Isla Bonita` in the talent show. Score. I was a winner, let me tell ya.
I remember showing up in my neon green koolot shorts, and off the shoulder neon pink top (where was mom when I got that outfit?) and I had neon pink headband on that looked like a fancy kind of medical bandage. My mom`s best friend brought her completely talent-less daughter, too, ever the stage mom trying to live through her children. The girl`s name was Bethany, and all I remember is that she sang The Brady Bunch song for her audition, and I had my first experience with feeling embarrassed for someone else. To this day I don`t remember what song I brought, though I believe it was `Tomorrow` from Annie (I was still reveling in the horrible realization that I would never play that role).
I sat sweating profusely in my knee-length neon green shorts, my sheet music shaking in my hands as my mom filled out my audition form. My headshot consisted of a 4X6 picture in which I wore, of all things, a red turtleneck sweater, black stretch pants, and a large pendant in the shape of some exotic bird that I later that same day pulverized beneath my Kaepa tennis shoes. When the assistant called me in, there was not one but five people in the room. Before even asking me to sing, the director took one look at me and said:
“Is there something wrong with your head?”
I was bewildered for a moment until I remembered the bright pink headband wrapped around my head like a bandage. I felt my face burning.
“Uh, n- no sir.” I prayed fervently for a large hole to appear in the floor.
“Would you take that off then, please?”
Without a word (yet with the insatiable urge to pee my pants), I shoved the headband in my pocket and handed my music to the pianist, a thin bearded man with the grossest pit stains I`d ever seen. He smacked gum as he laid out my music in front of him and proceeded to, with no warning whatsoever, begin playing my 4-bar intro. I whirled around to face the four other people seated at table just as it was time for me to start singing a song I`d sung hundred of times in my living room. The pianist paused then banged my starting note no less than a dozen times while I stood frozen grasping the sides of my shorts until the director shook his head and yelled “The sun`ll come out”. . .
I looked frantically from him to pianist. Then, somehow, I manage to sing. . .
June 06, 2007
T.O.W. I wish I did not have to feel like this to write music
Well, I`m writing songs again. Sort of. Okay, I`ve written a couple rough (very rough) verses and a chorus or one song. But hey, I`m trying. It`s just that everything I think of either sounds exactly like something I just heard on the radio, or the rhyming is cheesy-awful. or it simply sounds so, well, cookie-cutter. You know, like in country songs how a guy always sings about his mother, his woman, his dog, his truck, and beer.
And for some reason it`s only when I`m feeling, well, like I am right now, that I can write worth a damn. And even now I can`t squeeze out much. What`s wrong with me? Ergh. Anyhoo, this is it (and I did have Reba playing not too long before thought of it. Go figure.)
I`ve got this man
The man of my dreams
The one who makes life so clear.
I had ached for him
It seemed like so long
But he said `If you`ll wait right here`
`If if takes my whole lifetime,
I`ll make it up to you,`
`You are my life line,
You`re my dream come true`
So why
Do I feel like I`m tryng
too hard to be loved.
And I feel like I`m crying
when he thought I was tough.
Like I`m never enough
But for him I`m too much
And for us like I`ve compltely lost my touch
So why
I want all of his heart
H says there`s not much to give.
Or he`s just too afraid to let go
But just this man on earth
Can make my heart smile
And hurt so deep he`ll never know
But he takes care of me
And he loves me so right
That`s why when he hurts me
I wish I could just fade out of sight