Goals 2016

Last year, I posted a list of my artistic goals for 2015 in the hopes that writing them down would help me achieve them. I did about half of them. I played my guitar out in public (at a gig, not an open mic), I performed in more than three shows that were not projects of my own making, and I landed a couple of roles that got me noticed by critics. I did not make my acting or voice over demo reels, and I haven't finished a play's worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes yet, but you know what? That's okay. My priorities changed a bit as the year went along and that is fine. 

I liked having some defined artistic goals for the year, though, so I'm going to post a few more that I'd like to focus on in 2016.

1. Finish two plays worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes. I've started one play and am having fun with it, so I'd like to finish this play's worth by February or March. Which should leave me plenty of time to tackle a second play next year, too. 

2. Perform in at least three shows that are not my own projects. I like this goal and want to recycle it from last year to remind myself to keep trying. If we're getting fancy, I'd like at least one to be contemporary and one to be Shakespeare.

3. Sing at an audition. I don't know that I'm ready to audition for musicals just yet, but it wouldn't hurt to prepare for it and then give it a shot. 

4. Learn to play the accordion. Perhaps even take some lessons in order to do so. 

5. Learn to play "To Take You Home" on the guitar. It is one of my favorite Frank Turner songs, the tabs are online, it's just a bit more complicated than I'm used to. I would like to instill in me the discipline to tackle something challenging like that and master it. 

6. Get cast in an off-Broadway show. I'm ready for this. Just have to figure out how to make it happen. 

Those are good for now. A couple of simpler ones that are totally in my control, a couple more challenging ones that will make me get out there in front of others. And if I can do all of them, a pretty artistically fulfilling year.

Happy (almost) 2016, everybody. Here's to crossing all of our goals off of our lists!

April 11 - Music

I got a ukulele today. I don't know her name yet; maybe it's Gretchen. It is a Gretsch, so that would make sense. She's a concert ukulele, because I think soprano ukes can sound a bit tinny from time to time. I like the resonance of the concert uke better, so that's what I got. And I promptly learned to play three Frank Turner songs on it. 

I don't know what exactly I plan to do with my ukulele beyond playing rock songs on it for fun. Maybe I'll write more songs for kids. Maybe I'll just goof off. I sort of feel like I should learn some finger picking techniques on it so I can do more than strum, but as of today, I can play the ukulele. 

The thing is, even if I never do anything important, noteworthy, or life-changing with the uke, I love living in a space that has easy access to music. I sometimes forget (because I still carry some pain associated with playing music) that it is fun and therapeutic to play and sing. Even if it is the same song over and over, I do love being able to make music. Even if I only play in my living room for my cat for the rest of my life, I hope I never lose music for good. And maybe having a new instrument that is not associated with any negative experiences in the past is what I need to get myself playing again. We'll see. 

Anyway. I just wanted to note that I got a new family member today in the form of a little, gorgeous, cherrywood-red ukulele and I couldn't be more pleased. 

April 3 - Progress

I realize that some of my posts have been a bit dire lately because, well, I've been a bit dire lately. But direness is not permanent and often times, blogging about the down times helps me work through them. So thank you for letting me blog about not happy things.

That being said, I have a little bit of happy to share today. I sang at an audition last night and I did not explode. Not that I necessarily thought I would, but we all know that I have problems singing at auditions and that I am taking steps to work on that. Well, at this audition last night, there were about fifteen people watching as I first did my monologue, then a bit of a cold reading, then sang the intro to "Fly Me to the Moon," which if you've not heard, you can hear it here because it's really rather adorable. And when I finished singing the intro bit, I said, "And the rest of the song is 'Fly Me to the Moon,' but you know that bit already," or something to that effect, and I got a giggle from the crowd. And I left feeling good about the whole shebang. I did not walk out berating myself for a quivering voice, or for picking the wrong song, or for getting too into my own head about it. I was pleased with what I did.

So my take-aways from this experience are:

1. Perhaps I should sing classic/vintage songs at auditions instead of showtunes when I can get away with it.
2. It's okay for me to sing in a higher register than I do when I'm singing along with Liz Phair or Frank Turner.
3. If at all possible, I should do monologues first and songs second at auditions, because I think having a monologue go well helps me be a little less freaked out about singing.
4. I should probably still work on projecting my singing voice without it quivering with nerves.

Progress!

March 11 - Fear

I went to an audition tonight whereat I had to sing. We all know I can sing, yet I am terrified of singing at auditions. This particular one allowed me to bring my guitar, accompany myself, and sing a folk song, so many of the things that terrify me were not present at this audition (singing acapella, choosing the wrong song). I was still terrified and nervous, and I'm not sure if it helped or it hurt that I kind of know one of the auditors, but I did it. And I think I did okay at the acting part of the audition, too. 

The thing is this: the only way I've ever been able to get over a fear is to force myself to do the thing that scares me. I'm tired of having this knowledge that I can do something and the crippling fear of sharing that ability with people. I'm tired of knowing I am good enough but never believing it when I'm put in a position to show it. So I went. I went to audition for a show in which I will likely not be cast for any one of seven reasons and I sang so that hopefully, the next time I go sing at an audition, I'll be a little less afraid. 

Now, if only I could apply this fear-confrontation tactic to some of my other psychological problems...

February 19 - Music

For reasons not essential to this blog post, I pulled some music I wrote a long time ago off of a computer I've not touched in years and listened to it yesterday. It was...

If you've been following my blog all these many years (is it twelve now? Is this blog twelve years old? It is! My first post was on February 6, 2002. Sweet jebus.), you probably know there was a time in my life when I wanted to be a rock star. To that end, I had a band. We played my songs in all sorts of venues around Chicago and I loved my band mates with all of my heart and soul. You may also remember that the first iteration of my band broke up and my heart broke in the process. I tried finding a couple of new members, but that version of my band broke up in glorious, rock star fashion over a spat at a gig. To lose my band twice within a year was rather devastating and I've not played much since. A bit here and there, mostly just in my living room now for my cat. I've played a bit more recently since I received a lovely email and started listening to Frank Turner, but music is still a little painful for me. Or a lot painful for me, depending on the day.

When I think back to the time when I was writing and playing a lot, I remember being frustrated at how difficult it was to get people to listen. Yes, I had a small circle of friends who listened to my stuff and always seemed to want more, and I treasure them for that. But I wanted to know how to get real producers to listen, or people who didn't feel obligated to listen because we were friends or they were my family members. I notice this even now, when I find a musician I like and want to spread the word about them - it's really hard to get people to invest three minutes of their life in listening to something they've not heard before. I wonder if it is because we're so inundated with visual and auditory stimuli that we spend a good deal of time just looking for the familiar. But whatever the reason, I remember being really frustrated that I couldn't reach a wider audience because at the time, I thought at least some of what I was writing was really good.

Listening to the songs again now, some of them ten years old or better, I am conflicted. Part of me can recognize the wordsmithing and the attempts at interesting chord progressions. Part of me thinks some of the stuff I wrote way back when was actually pretty good. Part of me is wracking my brain, trying to remember if I ever wrote down my chord progressions and lyrics because half of these songs, I don't remember how to play anymore. And part of me cringes at the sub-par guitar playing, the rampant angst, the over-exaggeration of what the situations actually were that inspired certain songs. And the metaphors! Sweet jebus, I liked the metaphors. Granted, a lot of the songs I pulled off my old computer were probably never played live for anyone, and one has to write a lot of crap to get one diamond, but still. Wow.

But it did get me thinking. I have a few friends who know (or knew) me first and foremost as a musician, and that is how they still see me, and I wonder what they would think if new, previously unreleased "demo tape" type recordings were released somewhere. Like discovering Liz Phair's Girlysounds? Or if I did post the songs somewhere, even for a short period of time, would they sit there un-listened-to until I took them down in sadness? Would some of the craftier ones be hailed for the songwriting and lyrical beauty, or would I be lambasted as a hack for the kind of bad ones? Could some of the words in some of these songs help someone who is hurting?

I think that would be the most compelling reason to post some of them. I wrote about a lot of pain, and some of it I think is really effective. Would it be helpful to other people who may be in similar situations to hear those songs? If it would, I would gladly do so. If not, I'm not sure. I'm not sure I'm ready to throw my musician hat back out into the world to be judged again. Maybe in another ten years...

November 20 - Butter

People have talked for years about the phenomenon whereby a physically attractive person can become less attractive if he or she is unkind, or how a non-traditionally physically attractive person can become moreso if they are strong of character. This should not be news to you - I'm sure you've experienced it first hand. We all have. Many of the people I hold most dear would not fall into the Hollywood Leading Man or Leading Lady category, but they are the most beautiful people I know.

I think this goes for sex appeal, too. Take, for instance, current "hearthrob" Benedict Cumberbatch. Let's be honest, he's a little odd-looking. While watching the first season of Sherlock, it bothered me that he didn't seem to have any pores. But he totally won me over in the role, and from doing some (perfectly innocent) interweb searches, I've found I kind of dig the persona he puts out there. I admire his work, and I admire how he handles himself off stage, too. And these things are what have turned him from this weird pore-less man into a sexy guy I'd love to meet and work with.

I bring this up because People Magazine named their Sexiest Man Alive today and I have to say, I thoroughly disagree with the choice. I don't usually pay that much attention, though when Channing Tatum won it, I had to look through my own list of sexy qualifications and got the feeling the IQ qualification might fall a little short, but I was okay with it. He seems decent. This year, they gave the title to someone who is either not very talented or intelligent in real life or doesn't want people to think he is, so he puts on an asshat public persona. In either case, I don't think he's a very good role model. Yes, he is nicely shaped, but remember what I said in the first paragraph? Have you heard the phrase "butter face," as in "she's hot, but her face is nasty?" This guy is a butter mouth. He's nicely shaped, but when he opens his mouth to speak or sing, it kind of makes me ill.

There are many, many, many men I think are sexier than this year's Sexiest Man Alive. But for the sake of similar comparisons, I'll throw this one into the mix. Also a tall, skinny musician with dark hair and lots of tattoos. But he writes songs about how everybody should be writing songs, and how he'll look out for his god daughter as she grows up, and how life is meant to be lived to the fullest. He's funny and historically minded. He likes to learn facts about each city he visits on tour. He likes to learn a new cover song every day. He likes to read books, including autobiographies about people of whom he's not particularly fond just for the sake of learning about someone who is different to him. He loves his friends and loves making music. He's fascinated by English folk songs, and he loves to share his knowledge. On a personal level, I emailed him to thank him for his music and he responded with a very pleasant "thank you" email within about eight hours. By all accounts, he seems to be a decent human being. Not perfect by his own admission, but decent. Funny. Smart. Talented. Hot.

So for as much as I complain about the objectification of women, and as much as I do like to occasionally objectify men as a joke, could we please stop celebrating idiocy? If we're going to adopt anything about geek culture and make it cool, can we adopt the bit where we pay attention to people's personalities and celebrate the smart and funny ones who have some character?

I wish I didn't secretly know that that is asking too much. Go listen to Frank anyway. He's lovely.

August 12 - Mondays

I will admit that I am angry and bitter today. I know many of the reasons why I am angry and bitter, and I know that most of them are constructs of my own imagination. Most of them are things I can do something about, too, though one giant one is going to take a while. It's kind of stunning to me how this one bad thing can infect so much of the rest of my life until I end up walking around feeling like I am, in general, an angry and bitter person, because I'm pretty sure the opposite is true. Following days like this, where I become afraid that I am, in general, and angry and bitter person, I usually end up overcompensating and going overboard trying to prove to the people around me that I am not a bitter and angry person, that I am in fact nice and caring. My efforts often meet with little reciprocation, though, so the bitter and angry me has decided to not go that route today. I am, instead, going to allow myself to be better and angry for a bit. And then I am going to mention three things today that brought me joy.

1) I saw a rainbow.
2) I'm wearing a skirt that is so old the elastic in the waistband is completely worn out and it makes me feel like a 1990's slacker.
3) I listened to Frank Turner songs on my way home from work and his song "To Take You Home" reminded me that there are things in this life so beautiful that my face is too small for the smile they inspire. I'm okay with having this problem, though, and I will never stop trying to smile big enough to show my love.

Happy Monday, everybody.

August 7 - Checking In

I wish I had something interesting and pithy to say. Words of wisdom to impart. But I'm on a bus in horrible traffic, going to meet people I don't know and know very little about except we all have one friend in common. I'm nervous. 

So I'm listening to a Frank Turner album that I haven't listened to yet and I'm loving it. I want to learn to play all of his songs. It's funny - I've not known of his music for a very long period of time, but his voice and his guitar are comforting to me. Maybe subconsciously, I decided to listen to a familiar voice singing songs I don't know as I go to meet strangers who are beloved by a friend I adore to let myself know I'll be fine. There is beauty in comfort, and there is beauty in pushing oneself beyond one's comfort zone in pursuit of something new. 

Huh. Not too bad for not knowing what to say. 

June 22 - Music

For a very long time, I've not been playing music. I know it is selfish and cowardly of me, but playing hurt too much.

For those of you who don't know, I had a band backing me up for a while there and I loved them. I adored them. I loved going to rehearsal every week and hanging out with them and making music. And the things they added to my songs made them so much more than I could have ever made the songs on my own. I thought we were amazing. My guitarist and my bassist decided they wanted to do other things, though, so they left the band, and while I totally understood where they were coming from and did not and do not begrudge them their feelings, I was devastated. Losing my band was the worst break-up I have ever experienced.

I do not hold any ill will toward my former band mates for wanting to do other things. I still love all of them dearly. But when I went home, or played a solo show on my acoustic guitar, all I could hear were the parts that were missing. The little guitar riffs that filled in the holes. The bass line that made it funky. The beats that made it sound like my drummer had six arms. And it hurt. It hurt that these new audience members could only hear me and my guitar; they couldn't hear the brilliant musicians I heard in my head. And I missed them. I missed having people to hang out with before my set started and once it was done. I missed having cohorts. I tried to put together version 2.0 of the band, with the same drummer and a new bassist, but we only lasted two or three shows before that iteration fell apart, too. And once again, I was crushed. Two major break-ups in the course of one calendar year was more than I could take, so for all intents and purposes, I stopped playing. I stopped seeking out gigs. I stopped writing new songs. I let the callouses on my fingers fall off and my guitar fell woefully out of tune.

In the past week or so, I found a new musician who inspires me, and I received a lovely email from a fan who likes my tunes. Just me and my guitar. The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he's never even heard most of the stuff I used to play with my band. And maybe it is because Hamlet starts filming tomorrow, so I'm in a rather raw, creative emotional state, but I picked up my guitar again this week. On three different days. And I played until I had divots in my fingertips and my throat was screaming for water. I learned to play a couple of the new musician's songs, and realized I do still remember how to play quite a few of mine (even if I stumble over lyrics now and again). And I remembered why I started to play in the first place.

I missed it. I missed making music, even if they are just sad little tunes I play on an acoustic guitar in my living room, singing so really only I can hear me. I missed the noise. I missed the vibrations. I missed the release. I missed the emotional release. I missed feeling like I was connecting to something primal and human as I sang songs of comfort and songs of pain. I missed making music for the sake of making music.

I'm not saying I'm ready to go back into a studio and start a world tour. But I may have rediscovered a long lost friend at a time when I really need her, and she's helping me feel like me again.

So thank you to the musician and the stranger for the nudge. I needed that.

June 17 - It's Not All Bad

I don't even remember exactly why now, but as I was walking up to my building this morning, I was thinking about gun control in the United States, and how ridiculous it is. Maybe it is because I heard about the 10-ish fatal shootings that happened in Chicago over the weekend, some involving teenagers. And then the internet meme ran through my head saying how one terrorist plane crash means we all have to take our shoes off at the airport, so how many school shootings will it be before we have reasonable gun control legislation? And I started to think about the people who feel they need guns to protect themselves and their families, and how they quote the Second Amendment whenever they can, even if they don't full understand it and most likely can't quote it verbatim. (I can't quote it verbatim, either, but if someone wants to take away my right to own a gun, I'm okay with that. I don't want one in the first place.) And that train of thought lead me to the fact that we are a country that lives in fear, almost all of the time. If we're not afraid of terrorist attack, we're afraid the crib we bought will end up suffocating our children, or that eggs will make us all keel over from heart attacks and soy will make you grow man boobs. We're afraid of the bugs that eat our crops and the pesticides we use to keep bugs off of our crops. We're afraid to talk to our neighbors and we're afraid we're going to die alone. We're afraid that someone out there somewhere has more stuff, or has better stuff, or is more comfortable with his stuff than we are. We're afraid to say things out loud that need to be said like, "I love you," or "You are important to me," but we shout racial epithets at comedians who haven't even made it to the punchline yet. We're afraid if we dress too sexy, we'll be "asking for it," but if we don't dress sexy enough, nobody will want it. We're afraid of cholesterol and radiation and global warming. We're afraid of genetically modified foods and we're afraid our kids will be kidnapped and never found again unless we put microchips in them. We, as Americans, are afraid of everything. I sort of think a capitalist society breeds a culture of fear - if we're not afraid of things, how can we be convinced to buy that which we don't need?

But then, I made it into my office and checked my email, and there was a note in there from a complete stranger. I know this one was intended for me, because the title was "The Hamburg Demos," which was the title of a demo CD I put together sometime around 2004-ish that a few people picked up here and there. If I listen to the tunes now, they strike me as young and immature, and severely lacking in instrumentation - it's all just my voice and a guitar - to the point where I can barely listen. So I don't. But this stranger, this man I've never met, sent me an email to thank me for the disc. He doesn't remember where he got it, but he rediscovered it recently and said he has been listening to it on repeat. He said it is helping him through the mourning process of the loss of a long-term relationship, and he told me I have a lovely voice. He said he hopes I'm still making music.

You know that feeling when your heart wells up in your chest and radiates a brilliant bright gold light because there is just too much love in there for it to be expected to stay within the confines of your rib cage? I felt that this morning, and every time I reread that email. This stranger, this man, thought enough of my music that he put aside the random fear that goes along with reaching out to someone you've never met to say something nice. Thank you. Thank you for that email.

And you know what happens when we put fear aside and say nice things to each other? We make people smile and we make ourselves feel good. The whole world isn't violence and guns - there is a lot of beauty to share out there, too. So go be nice to somebody!

Love your faces.

June 13 - Musical Discovery

I was driving to more Hamlet auditions last night because we lost another Claudius, and kind of dreading being out and about in what was supposed to be an absolutely horrid storm - the kind where my mom sent me a text urging me to stay home - and listening to the absolute best radio station in the country. Admittedly, I was a little disappointed in some of the songs they were playing yesterday. Sometimes, they have my mood spot on, but yesterday was not one of those days, so when the DJ said they would now be playing a song by a little-known-on-this-side-of-the-pond British folk-y singer, I nearly changed the station to find something stupid and mindless but familiar. How often do we as people do that? How often do we rather bear the ills we have than fly to others we know not of, even if all that is at stake is listening to a three-minute song? But the light was changing and rather than use that time to scroll through radio stations, I used that time to drive and ended up hearing this song.

Go ahead and take your time listening. Or, if you give it a listen in another window while you read this, make sure you go back later and give it a listen when you can pay attention to the lyrics because they're kind of cute but surprisingly clever.

Cute but surprisingly clever. Sounds exactly like the sort of thing I would like, yes? And I did. I do. I stayed glued to my radio station until they said the artist's name again because I was only half paying attention the first time, and as soon as my car was stopped again, I found his newest album on Rdio.com. I even splurged on using some of my limited data package to listen to the first five songs on the album as I was driving home from the auditions (which went pretty well, in case you were wondering). Of the five, I fell in love with four and really enjoyed one.

I don't know what it is about certain musicians. This guy, Frank Turner, has a little bit of a whiny/yell-y voice, and his chord progressions don't sound terribly complex. But like I said, his lyrics are cute surprisingly clever - there are a couple of lines in "The Way I Tend to Be" that absolutely wrecked me in the best possible way. And then, following that on the record is "Plain Sailing Weather" which had me laughing so hard at the opening chorus, I was squeaking. And the tunes, while maybe not groundbreaking, are fun (I think his punk background helps keep him from falling into the "music to slit your wrists to" camp many folk-y singers fall into) and the instrumentation fills them out nicely (there is the occasional mandolin in his work, but it doesn't feel as hipster as some other artists using mandolins these days for the sake of using mandolins), and you can tell he's singing and making music because he has something to say and this is the only way for him to say it. Lucky for me, I like listening to the way he says what he needs to say.

So I did a little more digging, went to his website, and he says anyone is welcome to email him whenever and he'll try to respond to as many messages as possible. And he often hangs out after shows to chat with the crowd. And he plays 200+ gigs per year. So now I'm waiting for him to come to Chicago again - he was here last September, but I don't see anything on his tour schedule indicating a Chicago date. Because I have a feeling from listening to a couple of songs, watching a couple of videos, that his show will be one of those shows full of the kind of energy I need to recharge my artistic batteries every now and again, like a Glen Hansard, Moby, or Mike Doughty show.

So I guess the moral of the story is to listen to your local radio stations and to take the odd chance on a new song you've not heard before from an artist you've never heard of. You might end up falling in love and finding a piece of art that touches something in you that you didn't even know needed to be touched.

And thank you, Frank, for your tunes. I'm looking forward to exploring your musical catalog further, and maybe picking up my guitar again to learn how to play a song or two.

May 15 - Music

There are certain pieces of music of certain movies I can't imagine people haven't experienced, largely because they were a large part of my formative years. When I meet someone younger than me who has never seen, say, The Breakfast Club or The Princess Bride, a little part of me dies. What has your life been like that you haven't seen those films? Did you have better things to do? Like what? How can you not know what "As you wish" means or what a neomaxzoomdweebie is? 

Pieces of music, too, like Baba O'Riley or The Boxer. I have to wonder how people managed to miss out on this music and it makes me sad for this whole generation of kids growing up not knowing Zepplin or Dylan or Simon and Garfunkel. 

But then I saw a kid on the train today, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, and on his iPod, I could see the cover of a David Bowie album. A classic David Bowie album, not the new one. And it made me think that maybe everything is okay. Good art will persist and prevail and there will always be a new generation of kids to discover classic music and films for the first time. I think we'll all be okay. 

April 14 - Twitter Topic

I didn't know what to blog about today, so I put the call out to Twitter for a topic. Nic Lake was the first to respond, and he responded thusly:

"Sports. Boobs. Music. Food. The Loop. One thing you can do next week that you really want to do."

So today is going to be a bit of a hodgepodge. Ready? Okay. Here we go:

Sports: I've been thinking recently about how a lot of nerds/geeks/dorks use their lack of knowledge about sports as proof that they are nerds/geeks/dorks. I take issue with this. I am a geek. I would run against Felicia Day for the title of Queen of the Geeks if there was such a thing as a campaign for Queen of the Geeks, and I think I would have a pretty good showing in the election (but she would ultimately still win as approximately 3,000,000 more people are aware of her existence than are aware of mine, but anyway). But I also enjoy sports. It has been determined that I am a huge Cubs fan, I've been to basketball games and futbol matches and loved loved LOVED learning to be a derby girl for the play I did in November of last year. Does this make me less of a geek? If anything, I would argue that it makes me more of a geek for the simple fact that I am wearing a Cubs shirt under a Cubs hoodie as I write this post. Geeks can like sports, just as much as athletes can be geeks. Or something.

Boobs: Mine are rather nice on their own, but I do appreciate a good, supportive undergarment that makes them look amazing. Does that make me vain? I don't really care. It feels good to have a good boob day.

Music: I recently signed up for an online streaming music service and at the same time that I put together a playlist of new music that I am enjoying, I put a playlist together called "Bubble Gum" full of songs that have a beat, have mostly stupid lyrics, and sometimes actually make me kind of ill so I have to fast forward through them. It's music to turn your brain off to, which is what I want to listen to from time to time. But somehow, in compiling this playlist, I neglected to add any Lady Gaga. I feel like my Bubble Gum Pop Music Teeny Bopper card should be revoked.

Food: Food is the cause of and solution to all of life's problems. Mine specifically. It is my security blanket and my kryptonite. I wish I could quit it cold turkey, but I just really really really like to eat. I'm sorry; I know that's not cool and I know society says I should eat less and whatnot (and I'm actually really trying to be better with portion control), but I just really like eating. I'm not ready to give that up.

The Loop: Arguably the best variation to pull out with an eight-month-old who loves to play airplane.

One thing I can do next week that I really want to do: Hmmm...I've been kind of itching to go roller skating recently. Though I probably should schedule another fencing lesson for myself. And I need to get going on draping/patterning/building a bathing suit and a fancy white dress for myself. And I want to spend some time with my Hamlet monologues. Ooo! Or catch up on Doctor Who! (I might do that tonight.) Which means I will probably most enjoy when I have a few minutes to take a nap with my cat on the couch.

...and scene. Thanks for the suggestion, Nic! That was fun.