Okay, so I have been super lax in updating this thing.
However, there's no reason for me to neglect this. I can type so much faster than I can write by hand so I need to be writing daily. And I really want to use this as an idea board for some other projects that I'm working on. So, with that said, I will attempt to write here everyday.
This is like talking into a mirror, knowing that this is mostly going only to myself. But whatever.
My willpower is bullshit. I promised myself that I was going to get up at 8 this morning, but that didn't work out. Astonishing. I would like to believe that I have a really strong will, but I know tht I honestly don't. Instead, when my alarm went off, I slept til 11. I just couldn't go to sleep last night. Instead, I finished the book I was reading.
I bought it for a dollar (I think it was a fluke in processing at the B&N, but whatever. I'm broke and in college so I'll take it). It's Mary Karr's second memoir, Cherry. It takes the female perspective of the classic, Southern, coming-of-age and coming-of-sexual-age story.
So, things I liked about this book: some great turns of phrase. This is the first time I've read anything by Karr (discounting the segment she wrote in Inventing the Truth [which, that whole book and experience was a tragedy on ice]). The idea of being "boned into guacamole" is hilarious. Plus, I can total relate to many of the experiences that she talks about like being one of the few thoughtful kids in high school and wanting to subvert the natural order. However, this differs from my life because the 1990's and 1970's are hardly the same. In the 90's and early new millennium, everyone I knew desparately wanted to be different and fit in at the same time. Karr talks about the ostracization and the rules of belonging, though different, apply to every group.
Further, the line "your normally disaffected face scorched by tears" describes just about every time that I can ever remember crying. It doesn't feel cold and melancholy. It feels hot and angry and feral.
However, I did have a few problems with the book. And by few, I mean just one big one. Most of the book is written in a very overt second person. While for most of the middle portions it doesn't bother me, the references to "your father" and the introduction and closing chapters are really strained. However, the overall story makes up for these shortcomings.
So, today I learned some basic fencing. Fun. Liked the guy who taught it.
Tonight, going to go see Stomp. I'm excited...it really is one of my favorite concerts.
I think I found a good deal on tickets to go see Hello and Goodbye by Athol Fugard. I'm going to see if Krystin wants to go with me. I hope so. I would really like to see it.
In other news, I'm starting to get frustrated with some people, but what else is new. People just are whatever they want to be. And that's not going to change.
Anyway, I'm going to go read now. Try to feel better.
Tonight, going to go see Stomp. I'm excited...it really is one of my favorite concerts.
I think I found a good deal on tickets to go see Hello and Goodbye by Athol Fugard. I'm going to see if Krystin wants to go with me. I hope so. I would really like to see it.
In other news, I'm starting to get frustrated with some people, but what else is new. People just are whatever they want to be. And that's not going to change.
Anyway, I'm going to go read now. Try to feel better.
...
This is an ad that I get on a fairly regular basis in the left column of my Facebook account. I had never really read it before.
However, it claims to be the "classiest" network for gay guys on the web.
Somehow, I have a hard time of thinking of online dating...through ads on Facebook...classy.
Posts From England
Sitting in a computer lab at Regent's College in beautiful London, UK listening to the soundtrack to "Across the Universe" refusing to be brought down by the keyboard that is a little different than the one in the states. The keys are a bit smaller, and I have giant man hands.
One of the people on the trip got sent home this morning. He had been threatening a bunch of the people on the trip. Not with harm, just kin d of had a threatening way about him, if you understand what I'm saying. Generality is the death of art, so I'm going to get specific because I've been asked to.
I don't like him. I'm not going to make a secret about that. He was annoying. He got on my nerves. He said things at inappropriate times. K'Fain had already warned me about him because she had had a class with him.
He's a compulsive liar. In the seven days he was here, he claimed to be able to play the organ, wanted to do advanced research in stem cells and curing cancer, that he was advanced in the martial arts, and that he was an advanced hacker. The last of these I know to be false. He was talking about C++ and other older programs. Instead of talking about any sort of new programming languages or anything like that. I said Python to him and his face glazed over.
We called him Werthers after the knack he had in World Lit for coming in late, eating noisy candy, and generally being rude. K'Fain says he has a Napoleon complex. I think he likes to be the center of attention at all times.
At several points, he would lay on girls, touch their arms, hug them...many had to tell them that he did not have the place to invade their personal space like that. Classy.
Let's see...he also slept through all discussions and stayed up all night. This is class.
One of the people on the trip got sent home this morning. He had been threatening a bunch of the people on the trip. Not with harm, just kin d of had a threatening way about him, if you understand what I'm saying. Generality is the death of art, so I'm going to get specific because I've been asked to.
I don't like him. I'm not going to make a secret about that. He was annoying. He got on my nerves. He said things at inappropriate times. K'Fain had already warned me about him because she had had a class with him.
He's a compulsive liar. In the seven days he was here, he claimed to be able to play the organ, wanted to do advanced research in stem cells and curing cancer, that he was advanced in the martial arts, and that he was an advanced hacker. The last of these I know to be false. He was talking about C++ and other older programs. Instead of talking about any sort of new programming languages or anything like that. I said Python to him and his face glazed over.
We called him Werthers after the knack he had in World Lit for coming in late, eating noisy candy, and generally being rude. K'Fain says he has a Napoleon complex. I think he likes to be the center of attention at all times.
At several points, he would lay on girls, touch their arms, hug them...many had to tell them that he did not have the place to invade their personal space like that. Classy.
Let's see...he also slept through all discussions and stayed up all night. This is class.
Why My Kids Won't Be Special
This may sound like a rip-off of Disney's The Incredibles, but when everyone is special, no one is. This has come to my attention in sharp contrast in the last twenty-four hours.
At my school, (good ol' S****** College) I am a third-year BA English and Theatre double major with an emphasis in Creative Writing and Stage Management. I attend an average of 23 hours of class a week and I spend my evenings cut between stage managing our current production of Guys and Dolls and hanging out with my friends that have quickly become my family.
So, when people try to make my life difficult, I don't take kindly to it.
I am trying to be more positive, though, so in my intro meeting last night at the first rehearsal, I cussed very little verses the sailor on steroids that I usually am. I nicely said that I wanted this to a process of very little negativity and that I would appreciate it if people could leave their jadededness at home.
No. Such. Luck.
First rehearsal, three people hanged themselves. I have to talk to three people after one rehearsal; pretty much all of them have a horrible attitude. If you want to quit the show and if doing theatre means so little to you, then leave. Don't get a degree. Why would you waste your money or, more importantly, your time on a program and a training that you don't believe will aid you? Two of them, Anna and Barbara, decided to have a self-titled comedy hour while learning a song. Another, Tim, decided that he would murmur to himself in a near chant that the acting exercises were "the stupidest thing [he'd] ever done."
Thank you so much for being a bastion of hope and light. I appreciate it, as do the 27 other members of the cast and the 15 member design team. We really appreciate it. I really do enjoy having people spit in my face.
But why won't my kids be special? Because I'm not. I go to class, I do my job, I love my families, and I go to sleep. And these people pretend to be the shit because they are "special" and have nothing more to learn. Great. Groovy. Wonderful for them, but I'm not that good at life, so I think that I'll keep my plebian status for a bit longer...
At least until I pull in a steady paycheck.
At my school, (good ol' S****** College) I am a third-year BA English and Theatre double major with an emphasis in Creative Writing and Stage Management. I attend an average of 23 hours of class a week and I spend my evenings cut between stage managing our current production of Guys and Dolls and hanging out with my friends that have quickly become my family.
So, when people try to make my life difficult, I don't take kindly to it.
I am trying to be more positive, though, so in my intro meeting last night at the first rehearsal, I cussed very little verses the sailor on steroids that I usually am. I nicely said that I wanted this to a process of very little negativity and that I would appreciate it if people could leave their jadededness at home.
No. Such. Luck.
First rehearsal, three people hanged themselves. I have to talk to three people after one rehearsal; pretty much all of them have a horrible attitude. If you want to quit the show and if doing theatre means so little to you, then leave. Don't get a degree. Why would you waste your money or, more importantly, your time on a program and a training that you don't believe will aid you? Two of them, Anna and Barbara, decided to have a self-titled comedy hour while learning a song. Another, Tim, decided that he would murmur to himself in a near chant that the acting exercises were "the stupidest thing [he'd] ever done."
Thank you so much for being a bastion of hope and light. I appreciate it, as do the 27 other members of the cast and the 15 member design team. We really appreciate it. I really do enjoy having people spit in my face.
But why won't my kids be special? Because I'm not. I go to class, I do my job, I love my families, and I go to sleep. And these people pretend to be the shit because they are "special" and have nothing more to learn. Great. Groovy. Wonderful for them, but I'm not that good at life, so I think that I'll keep my plebian status for a bit longer...
At least until I pull in a steady paycheck.
Oh Yeah? Well My Mom...
I went and saw my department's production of Tartuffe this past Thursday night. During intermission, I called my mother back.
"Guess what happened to me today?"
"What happened Dot?"
"I got a call from Tyler Perry Studios. They asked me what I was doing for the next six weeks. They had a job for me in Atlanta if I could be there. I told them that I hade a full time job and a family. They said 'Oh, well, thanks anyway.' Then I asked what the job was. They said that they wanted me to be Kathy Bates stand in and body double for their new movie. They'd pay me 110 dollars a day plus expenses."
"And you said?"
"I turned it down, of course. I can't get away. But I kept cussing for the next hour cause I wanted to so bad."
"You should have."
"Maybe, but I'm not an actress. But it's flattering to be asked."
***
This is the latest reason why my mother is awesome. This sort of thing happens to her all the time. Not the being-tapped-for-an-entry-job-in-movies thing, but the isn't-my-life-not-exactly-the-mother-of-a-college-student's-it's-supposed-to-be.
My mother runs a community theater, directs online Scrabble tournaments, fights nuns in her spare time, compulsively hums "Pomp and Circumstance," will wear a vellure pant suit, drinks nearly a gallon of Diet Coke a day, and is a former private investigator. Okay, one of those isn't true, but I'll let you figure which one out on your own.
In short, I pose this challenge to you to think about: Who could your mom beat up and how?
My answer: Captain Hook, a bear, and communism. For the how, please see above.
"Guess what happened to me today?"
"What happened Dot?"
"I got a call from Tyler Perry Studios. They asked me what I was doing for the next six weeks. They had a job for me in Atlanta if I could be there. I told them that I hade a full time job and a family. They said 'Oh, well, thanks anyway.' Then I asked what the job was. They said that they wanted me to be Kathy Bates stand in and body double for their new movie. They'd pay me 110 dollars a day plus expenses."
"And you said?"
"I turned it down, of course. I can't get away. But I kept cussing for the next hour cause I wanted to so bad."
"You should have."
"Maybe, but I'm not an actress. But it's flattering to be asked."
***
This is the latest reason why my mother is awesome. This sort of thing happens to her all the time. Not the being-tapped-for-an-entry-job-in-movies thing, but the isn't-my-life-not-exactly-the-mother-of-a-college-student's-it's-supposed-to-be.
My mother runs a community theater, directs online Scrabble tournaments, fights nuns in her spare time, compulsively hums "Pomp and Circumstance," will wear a vellure pant suit, drinks nearly a gallon of Diet Coke a day, and is a former private investigator. Okay, one of those isn't true, but I'll let you figure which one out on your own.
In short, I pose this challenge to you to think about: Who could your mom beat up and how?
My answer: Captain Hook, a bear, and communism. For the how, please see above.
Waffle Houses
Welcome to the WaHo life! I have no association with the Waffle House corporation except that I enjoy their bacon and I spend many hours in their faux wooden booths talking to my friends and generally avoiding the way too much responsibility that I've given myself.
What I'd like to start with today, though, is waffles. The way someone eats a waffle says a lot about them as a person. There are many important factors: location of waffle origin, material, accoutrements, syrup saturation, utensil usage, and completion. Let's look at each of these briefly:
Location of waffle origin: There is nothing wrong with making waffles in your house. In fact, if you like making frozen waffles, all this says about you is that you have a pulse and a freezer. You might have kids, you might be a student, or you might just be someone who gets up earlier enough to make waffles, but not earlier enough to make waffles from scratch and brush your teeth.
If you go to my school (S****** College), you make a waffle if and only if there is nothing else palatable in the cafeteria. This can lead to many dinners made up of waffles and a long line at the waffle iron.
If you go out to IHOP, your not eating waffles--that's a pancake. Get in your car and try again.
Once you've reached the Waffle House, you are at the appropriate waffle haven. These people know how to do it right and quickly. Go sit down (but please reserve the booths for two or more guests).
Material: You have wheat and normal waffle. Always choose the normal waffle. You are eating what amounts to sugar and butter laden bread--this is not a time to be concerned with your carbohydrate consumption. It is a time to consider the location of your next insulin shot.
Accoutrements: My advice is: don't. When they serve you your waffle, the beautiful staff at the Waffle House (and they are wonderful people, but more on that later) will bring you the only two things you need: butter and syrup. Don't put pecans, strawberries, whipped cream, loogies, soft shell crab, wood shavings, or chocolate chips/syrup on your waffle. These things don't need to touch it. Don't do it. If you have to have them, order them on the side and eat them as an appetizer. You have to leave yourself a discriminating pallate for your soggy mess. The only thing you are allowed is the single pat of butter that the Waffle House staff will bring you (by this point, I assume youhave given up your Eggo and converted George Foreman grill and gone to a place that can really help you out).
Syrup Saturation: Finally, your waffle has arrived! There are three approaches to syrup. The first group doesn't use it. They tend to be calorie-conscious sticks in the mud who think that all children riding bikes should wear helmets. Who needs them? If you see these people, you should steal their waffles.
The second group dabs syrup onto their waffles. That's okay. I mean, it's the little black dress of syrup consumption: you can't go wrong with it, especially if you're sharing.
The last group are the dousers. You, my friends and colleagues, have never grown out of putting syrup into every square of a waffle. You completely cover it and use the waffle as texture for the delicious nectar that syrup is. After the waffle is complete, you often use your fork as a leaky sieve to collect and consume all the excess syrup that has built up post-waffle.
Utensil Usage: Please use one. Sticky is the worst feeling in the world. I'd rather have one of my limbs cut off then touch the laminate menu and have it become fused to my skin through the magic of grossness. I prefer just a fork, but if you need to keep both of your hands occupied (talking to you now, Emily Post), then, by all means use the knife. It might still have some residual butter on it.
You know, on second thought, on the off-chance it does stilll have butter on it, use the knife.
Completion: Not everyone can make it through a whole waffle. I understand. But you should try. Eat along the lines so you can quantify the amount of food you are wasting in light of recent staggering world hunger statistics. If you got through less than half, you didn't really want a waffle; you wanted a pancake. You should have stayed at the IHOP.
More than a quarter, less than a half means that you might have eaten something else at the meal or you didn't like the taste or you had to take a very important phone call to Singapore. I don't understand you.
Less than a quarter but not finished: Pussy. Stick it out til the end. How much could one more bite hurt?
Finished: Waffle champion. You enjoyed it, it was wonderful, and you should seriously consider eating another one. After all, if one was good, three more are going to be fantastic!
In short, I love waffles. They make me sick because I eat them unhealthily, but that does not detract from their beauty or enjoyment. Waffles, like many things in life, can tell you a lot about a person.
What they say about me is: In times of joy, strife, Law & Order marathons, post-show, pre-coffee, waiting at the hospital, waiting for the world to change, during the elections, during the Olympics, during the Depression: There are waffles to be had and conversation to be made.
That you can count on.
What I'd like to start with today, though, is waffles. The way someone eats a waffle says a lot about them as a person. There are many important factors: location of waffle origin, material, accoutrements, syrup saturation, utensil usage, and completion. Let's look at each of these briefly:
Location of waffle origin: There is nothing wrong with making waffles in your house. In fact, if you like making frozen waffles, all this says about you is that you have a pulse and a freezer. You might have kids, you might be a student, or you might just be someone who gets up earlier enough to make waffles, but not earlier enough to make waffles from scratch and brush your teeth.
If you go to my school (S****** College), you make a waffle if and only if there is nothing else palatable in the cafeteria. This can lead to many dinners made up of waffles and a long line at the waffle iron.
If you go out to IHOP, your not eating waffles--that's a pancake. Get in your car and try again.
Once you've reached the Waffle House, you are at the appropriate waffle haven. These people know how to do it right and quickly. Go sit down (but please reserve the booths for two or more guests).
Material: You have wheat and normal waffle. Always choose the normal waffle. You are eating what amounts to sugar and butter laden bread--this is not a time to be concerned with your carbohydrate consumption. It is a time to consider the location of your next insulin shot.
Accoutrements: My advice is: don't. When they serve you your waffle, the beautiful staff at the Waffle House (and they are wonderful people, but more on that later) will bring you the only two things you need: butter and syrup. Don't put pecans, strawberries, whipped cream, loogies, soft shell crab, wood shavings, or chocolate chips/syrup on your waffle. These things don't need to touch it. Don't do it. If you have to have them, order them on the side and eat them as an appetizer. You have to leave yourself a discriminating pallate for your soggy mess. The only thing you are allowed is the single pat of butter that the Waffle House staff will bring you (by this point, I assume youhave given up your Eggo and converted George Foreman grill and gone to a place that can really help you out).
Syrup Saturation: Finally, your waffle has arrived! There are three approaches to syrup. The first group doesn't use it. They tend to be calorie-conscious sticks in the mud who think that all children riding bikes should wear helmets. Who needs them? If you see these people, you should steal their waffles.
The second group dabs syrup onto their waffles. That's okay. I mean, it's the little black dress of syrup consumption: you can't go wrong with it, especially if you're sharing.
The last group are the dousers. You, my friends and colleagues, have never grown out of putting syrup into every square of a waffle. You completely cover it and use the waffle as texture for the delicious nectar that syrup is. After the waffle is complete, you often use your fork as a leaky sieve to collect and consume all the excess syrup that has built up post-waffle.
Utensil Usage: Please use one. Sticky is the worst feeling in the world. I'd rather have one of my limbs cut off then touch the laminate menu and have it become fused to my skin through the magic of grossness. I prefer just a fork, but if you need to keep both of your hands occupied (talking to you now, Emily Post), then, by all means use the knife. It might still have some residual butter on it.
You know, on second thought, on the off-chance it does stilll have butter on it, use the knife.
Completion: Not everyone can make it through a whole waffle. I understand. But you should try. Eat along the lines so you can quantify the amount of food you are wasting in light of recent staggering world hunger statistics. If you got through less than half, you didn't really want a waffle; you wanted a pancake. You should have stayed at the IHOP.
More than a quarter, less than a half means that you might have eaten something else at the meal or you didn't like the taste or you had to take a very important phone call to Singapore. I don't understand you.
Less than a quarter but not finished: Pussy. Stick it out til the end. How much could one more bite hurt?
Finished: Waffle champion. You enjoyed it, it was wonderful, and you should seriously consider eating another one. After all, if one was good, three more are going to be fantastic!
In short, I love waffles. They make me sick because I eat them unhealthily, but that does not detract from their beauty or enjoyment. Waffles, like many things in life, can tell you a lot about a person.
What they say about me is: In times of joy, strife, Law & Order marathons, post-show, pre-coffee, waiting at the hospital, waiting for the world to change, during the elections, during the Olympics, during the Depression: There are waffles to be had and conversation to be made.
That you can count on.
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