Random Thought and a Rant

It’s such a pretty day today. We had a cold front come through and the temperature is supposed to top out at about 79. That, and the cool breeze, makes this the perfect day to be outside, which, naturally, means I am currently inside. I’m having a slow moment at work right now, but they frown upon me leaving my desk merely to frolic in the outdoors. Apparently, they would rather I be available via telephone and email to the clients I serve. How rude. I think it’s very unreasonable of them to expect me to actually do the job they’re paying me for. (Kidding, of course.)

So, there was an article in today’s student newspaper about the theatre I work at part-time. Headline: AFTER 11 YEARS, THEATRE FINDS SHOW SUCCESS. Now I found this very interesting, if only because the theatre in question has had 34 extremely successful seasons and is, in fact, one of the most popular theatres in the D/FW area. Actors, designers, and directors from this particular theatre have been nominated for multiple area awards, as well as numerous “Best Of” community awards given by daily and weekly newspapers—and the shows I’ve worked have all, with one or two exceptions, been sell-out shows. So I just had to laugh at the story’s slant of under-dog theatre finally finding great success.

The Box Office manager just barely called me, and it seems that what the newspaper reporter was actually told was something along the lines of “The last time we revived Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was 11 years ago.” Clearly the newspaper reporter wasn’t paying careful attention. I’m not surprised, as the paper has a reputation for misquoting people. One of them was a friend of mine from the theatre department, who was giving an interview about a series of intensive Shakespeare scenes the department was producing and opening up to the public. The article provided a quotation from the play my friend was directing—the problem was, the quotation was actually from a different Shakespeare play. It was like the interviewer just googled “Shakespeare” and plugged in the first quotation she found. We laughed about it, but my friend was really annoyed because the interviewer credited the inaccurate quotation to her.

Anyway, I think the funniest part of the article this morning was the following, almost certainly misquoted: “[He said] he did not expect so much of the play to be set to music, but that it added to the appeal.” It’s a MUSICAL. He has to have been misquoted, right? Am I being unjust? Not everyone is the theatre dork I am…

Wow. I had no idea that rant was coming. Yikes. Sorry. Moving on.

I’m glad it’s Friday. It’s been one of those weeks where Friday just can’t come soon enough. Faith and I are planning a sister’s night out tonight. We’ve been talking about going to a movie for ages, but we haven’t had time. I kind of want to see The Illusionist, so hopefully that will happen.

Okay, I now have work to do, so I guess I’d better do it.

S-Project--A Slow Sort of Bad

This is my latest submission for the S-Project. I don't think it's very good. Maybe I'll do another one later...and, just in case, NO! :) This is not autobiographical. Nor is it biographical. At least, as far as I know.

“Nathan is a funny guy—incredible sense of humor. I feel compelled to mention that because anyone watching him right now would think he’s nothing but a huge ball of self-contained stress and rage.” The woman just looked at me, doubt evident in the down-turned lines of her face. Clearly, she wasn’t buying it. Who could blame her really? Wasn’t like he was going out of his way to prove me right, sitting over there, chin in his hands, facial expression carved out of stone. Moody bastard.

I don’t know why I felt responsible to apologize for Nathan’s rudeness. To be honest, we weren’t even that close. The dorm RA assigned him to me and we got along okay, but we didn’t exactly hang out. Nathan was a funny guy—I wasn’t lying about that, but he had a mean streak that had definitely asserted itself that afternoon. The woman had gotten the brunt of it just because she had the audacity to ask him how he was doing, all chirpy-like. He wasn’t doing well, is how he was. The woman seemed nice, like someone’s favorite aunt, and truthfully, Nathan isn’t usually such a prick. He had a good reason for being in a bad mood at least.

“I realize he genuinely looks like a very unpleasant person, but I promise you, he’s the exact opposite. He’s a puppy. He’s a great big fluffy kitty-cat. He’s one of those plush overstuffed teddy-bears little kids create at that store in the mall. You know the one? Where they sew little hearts inside the teddy-bear so he’ll love you forever and ever? That’s Nathan. I swear.”

She rolled her eyes, picked up a magazine and made her way to an uncomfortable looking sofa in the exact opposite corner of the room. Okay, so I was dismissed. No sweat. Happened all the time.

I glanced over at Nathan. When we arrived, he’d picked up the sports section from a newspaper someone had left behind, but it hadn’t done much to distract him, and he’d eventually tossed it aside.

“How much longer, do you think?” I asked him.

“Dude. Stop asking me that. I don’t know.”

He was driving me crazy. I wished I hadn’t agreed to drive him, or at least that I hadn’t agreed to stay and wait. Wasn’t like I was the one who-

“NATHAN BEARD,” someone called from the reception desk.

He shot me one quick panicked look, and then ambled over to the nurse like he had all the time in the world. I watched as he disappeared behind the swinging doors.

I was glad he’d gone because he was seriously bringing the entire waiting room down. It wasn’t exactly fun sitting there, but it was better then sitting there with him. This has to be one of the longest hours I have ever lived.

I looked for something to read, but there wasn’t really anything good. The only magazines they had were the type of magazines my mom reads: People, Ladies Home Journal, stuff like that. I stared out the window for a while-did a little people watching. The woman in the corner got called in; other patients came and went. Finally, I picked up the sports section Nathan had abandoned and began to read. I’d almost finished it when Nathan came out, red-faced and strangely subdued.

“So?” I asked.

“I gotta wait,” he mumbled. “Test results will be available in about 48 hours.”

Dude, I thought. Forty-eight hours? And I gotta live with him? This is gonna be a slow sort of bad.

Heroes

Last night I saw the premiere of the new NBC series, Heroes. So. Good. I really enjoyed it. The series is about a group of people entering the next stage of evolution (how very X-Men light). There's a guy who can fly, one who can bend the time/space continuum and teleport, an artist who reflects future events in his painting; a woman whose mirror image can take control of her body for brief periods of time; and an indestructible cheerleader who, in the first episode, jumps off an 80-foot beam, runs through fire, and, on purpose, sticks her hand in the garbage disposal, only to emerge unscathed.

Each character is just beginning to realize something about him/herself isn't quite right, and they seem to have an instinctive idea as to what it is that makes them different. It's like watching a bunch of different origin stories all in one show. I tend to enjoy superhero origin stories, so this was just kind of fun. I especially liked the guy who can bend space/time. He's so genuinely delighted with his new-found skill. It's very charming!

They unabashedly embraced the comic-bookiness of the concept and they even managed to surprise me in one segment. The concept is so unbelievably cheesy, but they're really making it work. I hope the show has some staying power, because the story intrigues me. Previews for next week's episode have one of the characters finding a comic book that appears to feature himself as the main character having the adventures he had in the first episode of the series. I'm actually looking forward to next Monday night. How very strange. :)

Anyway, I recommend. NBC is airing an encore of the premiere tonight

Box Office Drama Goes Bust

Apparently I was being over-dramatic. Would I ever?

The box office/house manager sent me a very nice e-mail that included phrases like "I ADORE YOU (her caps, not mine)" and "you are extraordinary."

There's a lesson to be learned here and that lesson is melodrama will score you many fine compliments.

Oh, I'm just kidding.

How to Get Fired From Your Part-Time Live Theatre Box-Office Job

1. Accidentally give a season subscriber last year's add-on ticket price instead of this year's.

2. Compound the error by charging last year's play add-on ticket price instead of last year's musical add-on ticket price (musicals cost more than plays simply because they cost more to produce).

2. Get confused with the Buy 1 ticket, Get 1 free offer in the newspaper and wind up under-charging 4 tickets for a total of $20.00

3. Stand like a deer-in-headlights when an unhappy theatre patron complains very loudly because you gave away her tickets to someone on the waiting list when she failed to arrive on time.

4. Go against theatre policy by returning said theatre patron's 4 season tickets to her season ticket pool. This makes the theatre patron happy again, but will assuredly annoy the house manager.

5. Set the alarm off while leaving the theatre.

6. Do all this in one Sunday matinee.

No, I didn't get fired. Yet. But I should be! There I am trying to balance the ticket stubs against the sales in Wintix (the computerized ticket program the theatre uses), only to find that the reason it isn't balancing is because I am a moron!

I realize to err is human, etc., but this was a ridiculous amount of "do'h!" for one four hour block of time.

On the plus side, I passed by the theatre on my way to my full-time job this morning, and it was still standing. So I guess I feel good about that!

Creating Life

Sam Wright, the author of a blog I visit on a weekly basis, has a terrific new project up called Jacquie's Journal. Jacquie is Sam's sister, who died before he was even born. The goal of the project is to give life to Jacquie since she didn't get to have one. Sam is inviting all writers to participate and write about the sister he didn't get to know. It's a personal favor from Sam to Jacquie. Click here for rules and submission guidelines.

Long may Jacquie live!

Scheherazade Project-"Facing a Hard Truth About Bergamot" or "Gee, That Izzybella Sure Does Cheat!"

So here I am trying desperately to feel inspired for the Scheherazade Project. We have a choice of themes this go-round: someone faces a hard truth or “What is bergamot anyway?”

Inspiration is lacking.

Before yesterday afternoon, I didn’t actually know what bergamot was. I vaguely recall having seen the word in one of the many magazines I subscribe to. Maybe a perfume ad? Something with essence of bergamot? I looked it up in my dictionary a couple of days ago, but my pocket Oxford failed me. I was crushed. Bergamot was nowhere to be found. Yesterday at lunch with my sister, I learned what a bergamot is when I cleverly asked, “What is a bergamot anyway?” Apparently it’s a type of orange, rich in anti-oxidants and used in Earl Gray tea. It is, incidentally, also used in many perfumes to add a vaguely citrus aroma. My sister chose the “What is bergamot anyway” theme for her submission and wrote an excellent “oh, snap!” story putting an overbearing oenophile in his place. By the way, for the benefit of those of you hoping it was autobiographical, it wasn’t. Still. She’s a deft, snarky one, isn’t she? I like my sister.

So now I knew whereof I spoke when I spoke of bergamot. Yet still, I lacked inspiration. Clearly, there are times when knowledge is not, in fact, power. It is instead useless facts rattling around in an uninspired head.

“Bergamotbergamotbergamot.” Even saying it quickly three times in succession like plimco didn’t help.

It occurred to me that I must face the hard truth: my submission for this issue of the Scheherazade Project has been hampered by an extreme lack of inspiration and writer’s block.

I surrender.

A Super-flo-us Post

So, based on this post made on my sister's blog (second to the last paragraph), she and I have been emailing back and forth this morning about the words we have mispronounced in our day. For your reading pleasure (all 1 of you), here are a few:

Me:
Gawain, as in Sir Gawain, which started this entire thing. Apparently, it's pronounced GOW-an, like COW-an. Who knew? Besides my sister, I mean. And probably my friend, Melissa.

Super-Flo-Us for superfluous--the first time I heard it pronounced correctly, I actually said, "don't you mean super-flo-us?" Oh, yes, I am that dumb.

Chamomile. I used the lesser-known "ch" pronunciation.

Hors d'oeuvre. Okay, I shouldn't be too hard on myself, here. After all, it is technically a foreign language. But I was very embarrassed when I was corrected at my father and step-monster's wedding reception. (step-monster used here affectionately--I call her that to her face every time we speak)

Finally, the name Wakefield. As a child, I pronounced it Wak-a-field. My sister corrected me. And then she laughed at me. She still laughs when she remembers it.

And to make myself feel better....

My sister pronounced Achilles, using the "ch" sound instead of the "k" sound.

I feel better already.

Some Sweet Firefly Fan Fiction

I'm not a reader of fan fiction, by and large. I've read some and usually I don't like them. They rarely capture the voice of the character or creator. I just think a better creative exercise would be to create a character of one's own and have fun thataway. But I do get the conceit of the fan fiction, and even though I choose not write my own, it doesn't particularly bother me that others get into the culture. I don't think less of them as writers.

So yesterday, I was visiting Whedonesque, as I do every day. Love Joss. Anyway, Saje, a frequent poster, shilled this Firefly fan-fic. Now, I don't post at all because usually by the time I get to a thread someone has already said what I wanted to say, and usually said it better. Saje is one of those I enjoy reading, so I figured if he was recommending it, it was probably decent. So I read.

SO VERY GOOD. Title: The Ice in Crystal. Author: juliefortune. Good stuff. If you are a fan of Firefly/Serenity, go read.

It Wasn't An Accident, Was It?

She was standing at my office door, eyes wide, a fearful expression on her face. "This plane crashed into one of the towers in New York, " she began.

"I know," I interrupted. I heard about it on the news while I was getting ready for work this morning. "How awful."

"No," she said. "I mean, yes, it is awful, but I was talking about the other one."

"The other one?" I asked, confused.

"There's two planes," she said, her voice faltering. "And more, I think...I just saw your door open and thought you should know."

I didn't even know her. She was just one of the many students I encounted in my job at the university. But here she was standing at my doorway looking lost and scared. My sister, Faith, who at the time shared the cubicle next to mine walked out into the common area of our office.

"Where did you hear this?" she asked the girl.

"It's on the news. It's just-- I thought you should know."

Faith and I looked at one another, then without speaking, I followed Faith back into her cubicle and watched as she tried pulling CNN up in the internet. "There's nothing," she said, "the system must be overloaded right now." She swore. "I want to know what's going on."

So we walked up and down the hallway and poked our heads into classrooms. Lectures had ended abruptly; students and professors alike were using the recently installed smart-classrooms to access the local news media on television. There we saw the first images that were horrifying the nation. Faith and I had always been very close, but not especially touchy-feely-huggy. That day I grasped her hand and we stood like that for several minutes before leaving the classroom and walking back to our shared office.

I don't remember which of us asked the other, "It wasn't an accident, was it?"

Later we took a walk across campus. Everyone we saw looked the way we felt-numb. Strangers were comforting one another. People wept openly. One student walked toward us with purpose.

"I'm giving blood," she said. "I'm going right now. A lot of us are. You should come if you want."

Faith smiled, "It's a really good idea," she said.

"It's the only thing I know what to do," said the girl.

So Faith and I went back to the office and got the rest of the afternoon off. Our supervisor thought it was a good idea, and anyway she said, "no one is going to get any work done today. It's too much."

When Faith and I arrived at Carter Bloodcare, the line to give literally stretched around the block. They were actually sending people away, asking us to come back later. To please really come back because our blood would be needed. We promised we would.

Later we sat talking everything over. Neither of us knew anyone in New York. Neither of us lost anyone we loved. Neither of us had ever even visited New York. We'd wanted to. It was on a long list of places we-must-see. We just hadn't yet. Most importanly, we were together-sisters and best friends and we still had time. So why, we wondered, did it hurt so much? We felt guilty, almost, for hurting when the media bombarded us with images of Americans who'd truly lost everything.

Today, five years later, I remember those images and feelings with perfect clarity. I remember getting a phone call from my mother, a rare occurrence as she tends to prefer emailing. She just wanted Faith and I to know that she loved us. I think a lot of families took 9/11 as an excuse to set aside conflicts and old relationship barriers and say words they'd been wanting to say for years. I remember watching the news every single night, reading Time and Newsweek, just trying to make sense out of something so horrible. I remember walking on campus with my sister and seeing an all-American blonde WASP type screaming with hatred at a Muslim woman wearing traditional veils. I remember Faith offering the Muslim woman quiet words of comfort after the enraged woman stormed off. I remember the phone call I received from J cancelling play rehearsal that day. I was playing Dunyasha in Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard. It was just as well that it was cancelled because my chosen profession suddenly seemed incredibly trivial, petty, and self-absorbed. Who gives a crap, really? I thought. I remember watching the news and seeing that much of the blood that had been collected wouldn't be needed after all. It made me sick to my stomach. I remember feeling, for the first time in my life, hatred and a desire for revenge--another sickening feeling. But I wanted it. I wanted justice for all those people who lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters.

I don't believe justice has been served. That's for another post, I suppose.

Anyway. I just wanted to say that I remember.

Liz's Alphabet

A is for Age: 34
B is for booze of choice: Not so much with the booze.
C is for Career: Writer-in-training? No? Okay, they pay me to be an Administrative Assistant.
D is for Dog: Make that Dogs(s), as in Baxter and Cydney.
E is essential items you use/love everyday: Get Even powder by Benefit and lip tattoo Avon.
F is for favorite song of the moment: Back on "She Sells Sanctuary" by the Cult.
G is for favorite games: Like watching basketball both live and on television; only like baseball live; when I'm feeling masochistic, I enjoy getting soundly beaten by my sister at Trivial Pursuit (HOW can anyone have so much crap rattling around in their brain???)
H is for hometown: Born in Atlanta, GA, but I'm a Texan by default.
I is for instruments you play: I can make a really cool sound when I blow into an almost empty soda bottle. Something about that sounds wrong.
J is for jam or jelly you like: Grape.
K is for kids: None.
L is for last kiss: Baxter the dog. Yes, I'm aware that's very sad.
M is for most admired trait: I'm very honest. Mostly. See? I'm even honest about that.
N is for name of your crush: Alas, I am crushless at the moment.
O is for overnight hospital stays: None.
P is for phobias: Spiders, roaches, and snakes, oh my!
Q is for quotations you like: "There's a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line." Oscar Levant. "I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then." Lewis Carroll.
R is for biggest regret: Quitting.
S is for sweets of your choice: Dark chocolate.
T is for time you wake up: As late as possible.
U is for underwear: Yes, I wear it.
V is for vegetables you love: Brussell sprouts, lima peans, peas, corn and cooked broccoli and carrots.
W is for worst habit: Emotional eating. Biting fingernails. Lots of bad habits here.
X is for x-rays you've had: Usually my teeth, but once for my foot.
Y is for yummy food you make: I tend to make very good soup. But in general, I don't cook. I prefer to eat other people's cooking.
Z is for zodiac: Sagittarius.

Another Book Meme Stolen From My Sister

I wasn't going to steal it and told her so, after which she emailed me and told me to steal it. She used exclamation marks. I really had no choice.

1. You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?

Pride and Prejudice would be good--any book with good, strong female characters.

2. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Mr. Darcy. So very dreamy. Actually, Colin Firth playing him in the BBC P&P might have had an impact on the crush.

3. The last book you bought is:

There and Back Again by Sean Astin with Joe Layden. Interesting read from an actor's perspective. When I went to B&N to link to the book here, I read some of the reviews and was surprised by how many people just thought he was an ass. I liked the book well enough, and although I must, with all due respect, scoff at his insistence that he's middle-America, I still think he seems relatively grounded for a movie actor. Sure he's insecure and self-absorbed. He's an actor. If he were confident and focused on the welfare of others, he'd choose a different type of career, like say education or social work.

4. The last book you read is:

Falcon at the Portal by Elizabeth Peters. Started reading it last night when I couldn't sleep. I actually didn't quite finish it--still have about 60 pages to go. The Amelia Peabody series is one of my favorites. Very funny.

5. What are you currently reading?

Oh, I guess I should have put Falcon at the Portal here.

6. Five books you would take to a deserted island: I read a lot of books, but few that I want to read over and over again. Generally speaking, they'd have to be books that I enjoy re-reading, so:

Harry Potter. Like my sister, I'm counting all six (eventually seven) books as one book.

Chronicles of Narnia. Once again, counting them all as one book. I cheat like a dirty dog, don't I?

Diaries of LM Montgomery. Yet again, I count them all as one book. Do you think cheaters really go to hell? She's an interesting person and I appreciate the dichotomy between the sweetness and light she wrote about against the stormy discontent she constantly struggled against.

The Watcher's Guides. Stealing from my sister again and since she counted them as one book, I am too. She's a bad example. Inspiring me to cheat...

One more, huh? Sheesh, I dunno. How about I emulate Gwyndolyn (Importance of Being Ernest) and say my own diary "because one should always have something sensational to read on the train." Er. The island. Whatever.

How I Spent My Labor Day Weekend

I had the best Labor Day weekend, primarily because it began last Wednesday--I had some days off just sitting around waiting to be used, so I used them. I didn't really do much. Hung out with the family. Slept. Ate barbecue because you're supposed to have barbecue on Labor Day weekend. Went to the movies. Read. Watched DVDs. Completely ignored my e-mail. In other words, I was extra-lazy and I really enjoyed it.

Friday, my sister and I went and saw Little Miss Sunshine. I liked it very much. It centers around an incredibly disfunctional family taking a road trip so little Olive, beautifully played by Abigail Breslin, can compete in the Little Miss Sunshine pageant. Dad (Greg Kinnear) is a motivational speaker who can't get his career off the ground; grandpa (Allen Arkin) recently got kicked out of his nursing home for his drug problem; Olive's brother, Dwayne (Paul Dano), won't speak; Uncle Frank (Steve Carrell) is a suicidal Proust scholar; and mom Sheryl (Toni Collette) is just harried and trying to keep it altogether. To be honest, the sentence in my E.W. magazine that made me want to see the movie was, "Steve Carrell plays a suicidal Proust scholar." I didn't really need any other inducement. He is such a funny, gifted actor, and he doesn't disappoint in this film. A caveat: it has some filthy, profane moments--I could sense my sister tensing up at a couple of scenes--but it's such a wonderful, sweet, witty film and I absolutely loved it and, aside from some of the filthy moments, so did my sister. Very recommended.

Saturday afternoon, I picked up There and Back Again, an actor's perspective on making the LOTR films, by Sean Astin. Now Sean Astin is remarkably honest in this book. His egocentricism and sense of entitlement (apparently inherent in many Hollywood actors--who knew?) is at constant war with his desire to associate himself with middle-America. In short, he's trying his best not to be an ass even though he admits that sometimes he's still kind of selfish and annoying. It was funny--I'd read a segment and think to myself, "wow, well that was kind of selfish and moronic," and then 3 sentences later, he'd say something like, yeah, in retrospect that was kind of selfish and moronic. Mostly, though, I think he does a pretty decent job of trying his best to maintain normalcy in a town that thrives on sheer over-the-top drama. And I have to respect someone who clearly puts his family ahead of all other considerations. In my book, that alone makes him extra cool. Aside from the insights into his own career and what it was like growing up in Hollywood, the sheer amount of information and perspective on making the films is just really interesting. So good read, definitely.

Sunday, I mostly spent with my parents. Monday we all got together for lunch and then I went home and watched some DVDs. That's pretty much the extent of it.

Just generally a lazy and very relaxing weekend. Usually vacations entail traveling to visit extended family or something like that. It was nice taking one like this for a change. But the vacation is over and I am back to work. Energized. Refreshed. Um...reconciled? Yep, that's it.