June 3 - Later

Energy is mass speed up to the speed of light squared. So it would make sense that mass is energy slowed down considerably. Which also makes sense when you know that solids are formed when the atoms or molecules of a substance are slowed down, liquids when they move a little faster, and gasses when they are sped up even more. So people - and animals and plants and bugs and bacteria and whatnot - are really just energy that has slowed down, yes? We have mass and are made up of atoms, so we must just be universal energy that has slowed down enough to become solids, liquids, and gasses. 

So when a person dies, I sort of like to think that the energy contained within the corporeal form is released back into the universe. It is a breaking free of the shackles of this terribly slow life. And I like to think that the energy that was once a person spends some time as energy for a little while before it eventually slows down and becomes something physical again. Along the way, it probably gets mixed up with other energy, but that's cool. It means something new is formed from recycling old energy. Cosmic recycling, if you will. 

I bring this up because I have been watching episodes of House lately, and he tends to berate anyone who is dying and expresses a belief in an afterlife. The character of House doesn't think an afterlife exists and he thinks anyone who does is ignorant and illogical. So I had to give it some thought. I was raised in the Christian Church - two of them actually - but I don't know that I subscribe to the idea of a place where all of these souls sit around on clouds and nobody fights about anything and everyone is just happy all of the time. If I am supposed to learn things in this lifetime and be a good person, it doesn't really feel like that great of a reward to still be me after I die. I've been me already, for quite some time. The exciting thing to have happen would be to try being someone or something else/more/better after I die. And don't give me that "you're the best version of you in Heaven" line. That's still not nearly as cool as becoming part of a cosmic thunderstorm or the first bacteria on a newly terra-formed planet. As much as I have railed against my physicality, to still look like this after I die, to still be essentially me for all eternity...that would be miserable. And I hate to admit it, but I like conflict. I need conflict. As an actor, I am programmed to look for it and find a way to fix it - this is what I love to do. And while it would be amazing to get to meet my relatives who passed before I was born or to be reunited with those who went before me, I'm kind of terrified that in an eternity of conflict-free bliss, I would run out of things to say and get bored. That probably sounds awful, right? I know it does. The thought of sitting contentedly on a cloud for eons just honestly isn't all that appealing to me. Though that may just be because I'm trapped within the confines of this mortal brain - I might actually really enjoy it when I get there. 

So where does that leave me and my belief about the afterlife? I'm not sure. I can't know for certain that there is or there isn't one because I've never been. I can't know for sure if those from beyond have communicated with me or not because it could just be me remembering things I had forgotten. And were I to end up in the hospital right now with a cranky doctor telling me I had three days to live, I might suddenly find the idea of eternal cloud-sitting very comforting. But right here, right now, I find comfort in the thought that when I do die someday, my energy will be released to the universe to fall apart and rejoin with other energies to make something new. It's nice to think that death is because one's body has gained so much energy and momentum that it has to speed up beyond what a physical shape can hold. Then it becomes a beginning and not an end. Just something that happens, not something to be feared. 

That said, I hope my own passing takes place a long time from now. I still have a lot of things to do here on the slow path before I'm ready to give up the combination of cosmic energies that is me. 

June 2 - Inbetween

There is that moment somewhere in the middle of the creative process, after you've had the idea, after you've done the planning, after you've gotten the tools together, but just before implementation starts, when the fear sets in. What if the finished product doesn't look like the vision in your head? What if you need more tools? What if, for all of your planning and research and preparation, the project is just too big?

I think this is the hardest part of the process for the creative mind. That moment of doubt when you feel like you have already passed the do-or-die moment. When it's too late to stop, but too scary to keep going. I don't know that I have an all-around mechanism for fixing or getting past this moment that works in every situation. Sometimes, I have to back up a step to the excitement of the planning. Sometimes I have to remind myself that even if it doesn't turn out the way I hoped it would, there is a chance it will turn out better instead of worse. Sometimes I have to remind myself that other people are counting on me. Sometimes I am successful. Sometimes, I am not. 

I got the tools and supplies for a project today, that needs to be finished in about three weeks. I had all sorts of energy and excitement and then a phone call with a friend happened, and the need to do laundry put the execution on hold. I hope I can get excited again tomorrow night so I can actually do this project. Because it is going to be awesome, even if it doesn't look like it did in my head. 

Wish me luck!

June 1 - Chatting in a Particular Direction

So I mentioned that I had an event last night, and overall, it went better than I thought it would. But as I was chatted up by two different men in the course of the evening, a few "chat up" tips occurred to me that I thought I might share with you, my three readers, just in case you are curious. 

1) The easiest way to show someone you are interested in getting to know them is to ask them questions about themself. This occurred to me as one gentleman I talked to asked questions about TV shows and movies I liked, music I listened to, stuff like that. The other gentleman told me plenty of stories about himself and his life and asked me absolutely no questions about mine. Granted, the second guy was drunker than the first, while I was sober, so I may have just noticed it more, or maybe people just get more self-centered when they get drunk. But while the first encounter was more of a conversation, the second was a story-telling session with me stuck between two chairs looking for a way to get out. So remember when you are chatting someone up, the question, "And you?" is your best friend. 

2) If you really want to show interest in someone, listen to them. If the object of your affection is asking you about your philosophy, or your tattoos, or your drink choice, follow that line of conversation. If she's asking about your tattoos, ask about hers, or ask what she would get if she has none. If he's curious about your beer, ask what beer he prefers. People tend to seek out similarities in people they've just met, so if he's asking about your favorite band, it's quite possibly because music is important to him. If music isn't important to you, you can pick up on something he says about why he likes a certain band and steer the conversation to an agreeable middle ground. I know, I know, it sounds complicated, but it's really not. In order to talk to someone, you need to listen to them as well. 

3) If the person you are chatting up starts fidgeting, looking around the room, and glazing over, it is likely because you have failed to do either of the things mentioned above within a reasonable amount of time. The easiest way to fix this is to ask them a question about themself, though if it has been forty-five minutes of just you talking, it is probably too late. 

4) If the person you are chatting up is female and you are trying to think of something to ask her about herself to keep the conversation going, avoid, "So, have you always been this hot?" at all costs. And while honest compliments are nice, questions about what she is doing with her life or what she wants to do with her life will make her feel more important and desired than telling her she has pretty hair. 

I hope these tips have been helpful and will lead you to many pleasant chats in the future!

May 31 - Social

I've noticed lately that I'm doing great on my own, but not so much when subjected to other people. Other people are making me very tired of late, and some of them even make me really angry. But when given time to spend on my own, doing what I need (or want) to do, I'm great. It's like a really big introvert rut or something. 

Honestly, I don't mind it. I'm getting a lot done when spending time alone. I only bring it up because tonight I have a fundraiser to go to for this film I'm working on and I'm (supposedly) going to meet cast and crew and probably friends of cast and crew and this prospect is giving me anxiety. I'm going to be working with these people so I want to make a good impression, but if I force myself to be "friendly person" just now, I'll be false and exhaust myself. If I just park myself at a table with a beverage, I'll be the weird one. I know - this is very much a first world problem, but this is very much how social anxiety goes. I just have to remember that I don't have to stay any longer than I want to, I don't have to drink alcohol at all (and likely won't since I'm driving quite a way), and if I walk away from the evening branded "the weird one..." Well, there are worse things that could happen. 

I wish I had done laundry today so I had a better t-shirt to wear. 

May 30 - A Day

Sometimes, I am amazed at my ability to take care of myself. Procrastination comes so easily, but when I really want to or really need to, I can bring it. I can be a grown-up. 

I mopped my floors today. We're talking move furniture to other rooms and use the Swiffer twice and get all of the stray cat hair off of the things I'm moving around before mopping and then mopping. All of the floors in my apartment. And it felt oddly wonderful. Like, people could come over to my apartment today because I managed to clean it. A lot. Not totally - I still need to do bathroom and kitchen surfaces, but still that's the easy stuff. I even made a trip to get more Swiffer cloths because I ran out, and I picked up a lilac candle so my apartment smells like spring. Spring cleaning. At the end of May. Because we finally have spring-like weather. 

And through all of this cleaning, I managed to make myself a healthy breakfast and a healthy lunch to boot. Like a real person!

I know I'm a real person every day. But after those really long months when I'm not home much and the "mundane chores" start piling up, it feels good to have the time to do them and to actually get them done. 

Now for some Thai food and a beer, to undo all of the grown-up-ness I built up today. Hopefully it won't fully derail my plans to be productive for the rest of the weekend. 

May 29 - Hamlet

Hamlet: The Series is available in its entirety on YouTube. I put all of the videos into this playlist so you don't have to go searching for them.



I want to say, really quickly, that what probably gets me the most about these videos is that when it gets to the end credits, the special thanks and list of supporters are full of people I know. It melts me every time.

Thank you, guys, for supporting this project. Without you, it would not have happened. I enjoyed it quite a bit, and for the rest of my life, I get to say I was Hamlet once. I could not think of a nicer gift. So thank you!

May 28 - #YesAllWomen

This particular #YesAllWomen story of mine is not as egregious as some, but I am going to tell it anyway. Because the point of this hashtag, as I understand it, is that while not every man has treated a woman like she exists purely for his pleasure, every woman has been treated like that by someone. At least once. Often times it feels like at least once a day. 

A few years ago, I was taking the train with some friends after work to go to a speed dating event. We went straight from work, so the train was crowded with rush hour commuters. I had worn a skirt that day - not extraordinarily sexy, but a skirt nonetheless. It was a small, almost-houndstooth-but-not-quite pattern in gray and black, knee length, pencil skirt, not overly form-fitting. I think I was wearing it with tall boots and a black top. My thought in putting the outfit together was that it was something appropriate for work in an office that with the addition of some lipstick would also be appropriate for a speed dating event. In retrospect, I was probably underdressed for the speed dating event (read: not sexy enough).

So my friends and I were on this very crowded train, smushed in among dozens of other commuters, standing near the doors because that was as far into the train car as we could get. And suddenly, from behind me, I felt a hand lifting up my skirt to gain access to my inner thigh. I smacked the hand away, turned, and gave a very stern look to the guy standing behind me. I could only guess which guy it had been. At the next stop, we got off the train. I would like to think we would have done so even if it hadn't been our stop. I told my friends, they agreed that the guy was a creep and out of line, and we went to our event. 

Like I said, the story I just shared here is not as egregious as some. I was groped by a stranger on a train. Nobody was physically hurt and the psychological trauma for me was minimal. But seriously, who sticks their hand up a strange woman's skirt on a train? Who thinks that is okay? Who thinks that it's really not that big of a deal?

In retrospect, I wish I had done something louder and more obvious than give the guy a stern look. I wish I had shouted at him, "What makes you think you have the right to touch me without my permission?" so I could have embarrassed him in front of everyone on that train. Because that is what he did to me by touching me inappropriately, he embarrassed me. He made me self-conscious about my perfectly acceptable office attire. I think you would be hard pressed to find even a mysoginistic jury that would say I was "asking for it" in that outfit. The groper made me uncomfortable, he invaded my personal space in a public forum. And really, who does that on a crowded rush hour train? Was he counting on the fact that I wouldn't want to make a scene? If he was, I am even more annoyed that I didn't. 

I have ridden the train hundreds of times since then. I've been stepped on and whacked in the head with oversized purses, but I have never been groped by another man like that. Meaning, I know that not all men grope strange women on trains. Not all men are rapists. Not all men are mysoginistic asshats. Not all men think they are owed sex. Not all men think women exist purely for male gratification. I know these things, you know these things, we all know these things. That's not the point. The point is that there are enough of them out there who do, and they are bold enough in their life choices, loud enough with their hoots and hollers, strong enough in their physical demands, that every single woman has had to deal with them on some level at some point in her life. Every. Single. Woman. 

So I would ask, those men defending mankind against the "online onslaught" of female empowerment, even if you, personally, are not the aggressor, how would you feel if your mom told you she was groped on the train by a stranger? How would you feel if your girlfriend was attacked walking to her car one night? How would you feel if your sister was shot and killed at school because some guy was pissed that she didn't want to date him? 

Not all men are aggressive and violent toward women. All women have been targets of violence and aggression. Something needs to be done about that second statement. 

May 28 - Tired

I'm tired of living in a world full of so much fear and blame.

May 27 - Nothing

I have nothing interesting to say today. It was a day. I went to work, I came home, vacuumed my bathroom, I'm pretty sure my vacuum has choked to death on the volume of cat hair I have asked it to consume over the past year and a half, I made some really yummy fishless fish tacos for dinner with my new favorite Gardein product and an Isa cole slaw recipe, and I worked out. Because as good as my intentions were, I did not lose ten pounds in May. Nowhere close. I didn't gain ten pounds either, so that's good, but I lost nothing in May. So it's time to get back on the wagon. And in my post workout stupor, I have nothing interesting to say today. 

Sorry about that. 

May 26 - Change of Plans

Happy Memorial Day!

My plan was to do all the things today. Bring my life back to normal, after too long not eating right, postponing simple chores. I was going to clean and make things and prep food for the week. 

I managed to make it to the grocery store and got food to make some interesting and healthy salads. I've made two of three recipes already and will make the last one soon. But my body has also been telling me to take it easy today. I've spent too much time running around, I've not been sleeping well. So part of my day off has been spent reading a book and napping with my cat. Because as much as my floors need to be vacuumed and my refrigerator stocked, I needed to get my body back to it's normal balance, too. I am going to have a lot going on in the next couple of months and I won't be able to do it if I don't have energy. Sometimes plans need to change, and that's okay. 

May 25 - Endings

I just realized that I have not one, but two projects coming to an end today. The play I am currently in is closing and we have the premiere party for the second half of Hamlet: The Series. 

I'm sitting backstage just now, listening to my cast mates say these words for the last time and it is a lot sadder than I thought it was going to be. Granted, it is very likely that these people will do this show again, but not with this exact cast, not in these roles, not in this space as this group. So while it may not be the last time we say these words, it is the last time we say them in this setting. We will all go on to other projects and many of us will stop hanging out, as happens when shows end. Back to our regular routines. Back to making new friends in new shows. 

And Hamlet...that one has been on my plate and part of my life for about three years. I get to see the final installment tonight and then it's all done. Maybe some time spent harassing people to watch it, but no more audio commentary recording sessions or rehearsals or shoot days or anything. My days of being Hamlet will officially be over. That's kind of a big hole. 

So if I'm a little quiet for a couple of days, it is because I am mourning not one, but two projects, and I am doing it without my usual coping mechanisms. I'll be fine. But I will miss these people and these projects. 

Thanks, guys! It's been fun!

May 24 - Almost

Whenever I finish a show, or am close to finishing a show, there is a mourning period involved. I have to get used to not seeing the same people four times a week who I have spent so much time with for the past few months. I have to re-develop a "normal person" routine that doesn't involve hours of rehearsal, strange make-up, and hair styles that involve product and bobby pins. There is always a let-down period after every show and it can be very sad. 

For the last three-ish years, I have dealt wth the mourning period by jumping right into the next project, so it has been coping through denial. After this show, I'm just going to have to mourn because I don't have the next project officially lined up yet. So I have to find another way to mourn this show. I think I'm going to do it by focusing on the things I will not miss. 

I will not miss putting my hair in jelly rolls.

I will not miss covering my tattoo. 

I will not miss scrubbing eyeliner off of the back of my legs. 

I will not miss being the angry character in the show. 

I will not miss using make-up to try to make myself look older. 

I will miss the people, though, and the language of Shakespeare. I'll just have to get into another Shakespeare show soon. 

May 23 - Almost

You know that feeling when you're just on the verge of something amazing and you don't want to jinx it by talking about it but you need to acknowledge that things are different and they are likely (hopefully) going to become more different?

Yeah. That. 

May 22 - To My Future Husband

I have several guy friends who have written blog posts to their future wives, talking about what they hope and dream and making promises for what their lives together will be when they finally meet and fall in love. I even have one guy friend who set up a website taking applications from women who would like to be his wife someday. And I came to a realization today about what I am currently finding ridiculously attractive in men, so I thought I would write a little note to my future husband. If I ever meet him. Or something. This may be terrible; please bear with me. 

To my Future Husband:

Thank you. It amazes me every day that you have managed to hang in there through my highs and lows and ups and downs. I know there are those who would rather avoid extreme emotions in favor of a steady calm, but we're not middle of the road people. We fight. We love. We share. We celebrate. We rage. And I think another man would have turned around and run away by now, so thank you for not doing that. 

In return, I promise to always be honest with you. I promise to face my fear of vulnerability and weakness so we can grow closer. I promise to never judge your weaknesses, but to hold your hand as we deal with the low moments together. I promise to encourage your silliness and celebrate your joys. I promise I will never tire of your adorableness if you promise to never hide it from me. I promise to maintain a healthy physical relationship that includes the appropriate amount of space, both physical and emotional. I promise to let you geek out in my general direction about whatever you want to geek out about, and I promise to at the very least try to enjoy those things with you that you would like to share with me. I promise to not get squidgey when you need time with your guy friends, or with other people who are not me. 

My dear, future husband. I hope you know I find you most attractive when you are doing what you love, so I hope you don't feel the need to hide those things from me. I love when you play with our kids, and I love you for throwing all dignity aside to make them smile. And I love that through all of this, you still surprise me and challenge me and excite me. Thank you for letting me be part of your life, and for taking the time to be part of mine. 

To many, many happy years together!

Your Future Wife

May 21 - Addiction

Hi. My name is Kitty and I'm an addict. 

It has been about two hours since I last did theatre and I'm already jonesing for more. I can't get enough of making people laugh and cry and feel things and think about stuff. It is a high like no other. 

Fortunately, my addiction is detrimental to no one but myself, and even then, less detrimental than beneficial. So I'll not be seeking help at this time. Just more auditions. 

May 19 - Sexism

So as I was setting up this trade show booth last week, I was reminded of the rampant sexism that occurs in such situations. It's not surprising - I mean, I get it. There aren't a lot of women who do things like trade show set up and heavy lifting and industrial electrical work. So these guys, like many construction-type workers, are used to spending their days talking to other guys and may or may not know how to behave properly when a woman shows up. Not that they're rude, but they do pull out the "sweethearts" and "honeys" and they make comments about the woman's appearance. My guess is that they think they are being proper and polite, when really these comments are micro-aggressions of a sexual nature. "Let us lift that for you, sweetheart. No need to break your fingernails." That kind of thing. 

But what I noticed working in the booth during trade show hours today was that these micro-aggressions are not limited to the men who set up the booths, and they are sometimes not even limited to the men. Other women were calling me sweetheart and darling and commenting about the pretty girl in the booth (meaning me). And while I know none of these comments were made with malicious intent, they all still served to make me uncomfortable. 

I don't know if I'm receiving more of these comments than I used to, or if I am just more aware of them than I used to be. Either way, the end result is approximately the same. And because of that end result, I would just like to remind people that the proper way to treat a woman is as if she was an actual person. Because she is one. If she goes to lift a heavy box without thinking about it, let her lift it. She likely can. If you are talking to her about something specific, there is no need to remind her to smile more when the conversation is over. And for the love of all things holy, please remember that she is more than set decoration - she has a brain and most likely enjoys using it. 

I don't think sexism will ever go away completely. But maybe we can curb it a bit by remembering that we're all just people. Maybe. 

May 18 - MV

I knew an amazing woman many years ago, with a brilliant laugh and an infectious smile. She always signed off, "love and laughter," and those who knew her picked it up, too, her life motto. She was love and laughter in a brilliant human package.

I say "knew" and "was" because she passed away about a year and a half ago. I find myself missing her on the oddest of occasions even though I didn't get to see her very often. Today, I find myself missing her laugh and her hugs in large part because it is her birthday. And though I am not a religious person, I can't help but think today is beautiful and sunny and warm in her honor. 

Happy birthday, Miss Vicky. I love you to bits and miss you terribly. Love and laughter always. 

May 17 - Over

I knew I would see you and I was afraid of what seeing you would do to me. My heart still skips when we talk, like it did a million years ago when my love for you was young. But I saw you, and felt nothing. 

I don't know how to feel that. It's probably good that my heart did not skip, that I did not feel the old compulsion to touch you. But it also makes me a bit sad, knowing that I will always love you, to know that the love has gotten older and is more comfortable. The kind of love that simply allows me to be happy for your success, not the kind of love that requires I see you every day. I kind of miss that passion. 

It's probably healthier that I felt nothing. Given where we will never go. Perhaps I can actually find someone now who I will not compare to you, with whom I can have a healthier relationship. 

It was good to see you. And I'm glad you are doing well. And I'm happy in my settled-down love. 

May 16 - Yay

Mmm...I love the rampant sexism amongst people setting up for trade shows.  

*sigh*

May 15 - Stuff

The one major down side of doing theatre is that you miss out on a lot. I'm not just talking about standard "fear of missing out" type things; I'm talking about actually missing out. I have missed family weddings, friend's birthday parties, reunions, all sorts of events that I would have liked to attend, all because I have had theatre to do. Most of the time, the people involved understand and I don't think there are hard feelings. Or if there are, they haven't told me. But I do feel bad about it from time to time. Am I missing out on LIFE because I'm pursuing my career?

I apologize if this offends anyone reading, but I am going to say that nine times out of ten, no, I'm not missing out. This is my life and I love it. I've already written a half-dozen posts on why I love theatre so dearly, so I won't get too gushy today. But this is my life. This is what makes me feel alive. This is when I get to be most alive and most happy. 

I do sincerely apologize to those who's events I have had to miss in the name of theatre. If I have hurt you with my absence, I am truly sorry. But I do not regret the time I have spent following my dreams. I can't. And I would love to say that someday, it will all slow down and I'll have more free time, but in all truth, I hope that days is many years off. And if you ever start to miss me too much, come see a show and we'll get a drink afterwards. 

May 14 - Revolution

There is no such thing as a comfortable pair of high heeled shoes.

I don't care what you say, I don't care how many years you have been wearing high heels to train your feet and your body to do things they're not supposed to do, I don't care how much you pay for your shoes; there is no such thing as a comfortable pair of high heeled shoes.

I keep finding random cute heels that I think will be fine, and that often times are fine. For a little while. But after actually wearing them for any period of time - to a wedding, to work, to an audition - my feet end up screaming at me, begging for soft, cushy socks and sneakers. The heels I wore yesterday were not particularly high, and have the extra cushioning in the ball of the foot for comfort, but they ended up rubbing off about four layers of skin at about the sesamoid bone (where bunions form, if one has bunions - do I have a bunion?) that is still screaming bloody murder at me. And I only wore the heels at work, and I didn't walk around very much at work yesterday, so that is, what, nine or ten hours of mostly sitting while wearing heels and I'm limping today because of it? And these are supposed to be comfort-designed high heels. Really?

High heels, though they are considered a symbol of female oppression by some, are cute and fun to wear from time to time. I like being taller than normal on occasion. But I honestly think they are little more than a torture device designed to make women look a certain way and to lessen a woman's power. It is harder to walk in high heels, it is virtually impossible to run in high heels, and in order to ever get used to wearing them, one has to wear them all the time to the point her feet are calloused and mangled and hard and numb to most kinds of pain. Wearing high heels too often can lead to back problems and knee problems and foot problems. And yet we wear them so we can be a smidge taller from time to time and have kick-ass calves. Which begs two questions:

1) Why?
2) In all the time we've been doing this to ourselves, why has no body taken comfort and wear-ability into account when designing the super cute high heels?

I get it - a lot of high heels are designed by men who don't actually wear them. So they don't know that while all of those little strappy things are cute, making them out of plastic means a woman is going to have all of these hard-edged plastic bits digging into her foot all day. And he doesn't realize that while cute and dainty, putting all of a woman's weight on the ball of her foot and supporting the ball of her foot with what amounts to a quarter-inch of plywood is not really comfortable. And he doesn't realize that the cute open-toed shoes that you really can't or shouldn't wear pantyhose with, but that are lined with leather (or a leather-like material that doesn't really breathe) induce foot sweat, which induces stickiness, which induces chafing, which produces blisters. And he doesn't get that while the heel of a shoe needs to narrow a bit so it will stay on a woman's foot, the joints in a woman's ankle need to move in that general area, too, so making that part of the shoe really stiff will lead to chafing and blisters, as well. And he doesn't get that pointy shoes are just ridiculous because nobody's foot is shaped like that.

So here is what I would like to do. A lot of people, once they become rich and famous and have all sorts of disposable income, start a business of some sort. Some sell perfumes, others clothing, other food stuffs. I would like to put money into shoe research and development. Make shoes out of flexible, breathable materials that don't make you look like a hippie. Change the design of high heeled shoes to encourage a more even weight distribution so that the wearer is not walking en pointe all day. Offer support and cushioning where it is needed. Place straps where they don't cut up the foot. And with any luck, even make them affordable. Because everyone loves a cute pair of shoes, but nobody loves the blisters and Band-Aids that follow.

It is time for a shoe revolution! Who's with me?

May 13 - Four and Five

I make a very interesting Hamlet. 

May 12 - Hot

It is hot and muggy and humid and I love it. My skin loves being outside and feeling the air. The wind on my skin is just about the most glorious feeling in the world right now. Especially on the walk home from an amazing rehearsal with brilliant people. I love it. 

Thank you, Mother Nature. 

May 11 - Mother's Day

I think it has been well established that my mother is one of my favorite people on the planet. As it is Mother's Day, I feel the need to say it again, though. I can't be an easy kid to have - artistic, occasional depression, always wanting more and dreaming too big for myself. But every curveball I throw in my mom's direction, she figures out a way to catch it. And then she polishes it up and tosses it back so we can keep playing. She always has a kind word, always offers support, and is always thinking of ways she can help with my crazy schemes. 

Thank you, Mom. I know you'll say it's your job because you're my mom, but thank you just the same. I love you!

May 10 - Experiment

I tried something today which was rather out of character for me, but an important step, I think, in embracing my new self-image of "cute little thing" - I wore shorts. Outside. In public. For about half an hour. 

Granted, now that I am home, I am wearing full trousers again, but I had to give it a shot. The last time I wore shorts in public was when I was in Las Vegas, so almost exactly a year ago, and it was nighttime in Vegas for a white party and I wore the shorts instead of wearing a dress so it felt more like a costume than a fashion statement. Prior to that...I'd have to dig through this blog to find the last time I wrote about how weird it is for me to wear shorts in public. 

I used to wear shorts a lot when I was younger. It didn't seem like such a big deal. But then the summer I spent in LA, it just became weird to wear them. I think in part because an actress I was sort of working with didn't wear them to make sure she wouldn't sunburn her legs. Or some such thing. Seemed like a good idea to me - save on sunscreen and avoid skin cancer by staying covered up. And then, when I did want to try wearing shorts again, I couldn't find any that we're flattering - they were all exactly the wrong length or style for my body shape. So I got frustrated and disappointed in shorts and just decided that I don't wear shorts. That's fine. 

But today, in part because of the long-overdue gorgeous weather and in part as part of my self-image re-shaping therapy, I decided I would do my morning errand on foot and I would wear shorts. The same shorts I wore in Vegas, white denim, paired with a green v-neck t-shirt and my Converse sneakers. 

It was weird stepping out into the bright sunlight looking like...everyone else. Honestly, I looked like a high school senior or something, except with less-cool headphones. The first human I saw was a rather good looking, well built man, and I thought, "Welp, there's no turning back now." Amazingly, he did not go blind at the sight of my porcelain legs, nor did he even really seem to take note of me at all. I passed a couple of women, older than me, on the sidewalk and they smiled but didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. I saw two young girls outside, one coloring, one trying out her pink and purple rollerblades on the uneven sidewalk. I wanted to give her a high five for being able to skate on that, and tell he she could grow up to be a badass derby girl if she wanted to be, but I didn't. She sat down as I passed, looked up at me and smiled. I smiled as warmly as I could back at her. I think we both knew she could take me in a derby bout. 

By the time I got to the first major intersection I had to cross, I was feeling pretty good. So good, I sort of danced to the Frank Turner song in my headphones while I waited for an opportunity to cross. Nobody was looking at me. Nobody thought this was the least bit odd. I crossed the street and kept going. It wasn't until I had nearly reached my destination, just shy of a mile from my apartment, that I encountered my first gawker - a dude on a skateboard. But by that point, I didn't care. 

I did my errand and headed home along a slightly busier road. More cars, more pedestrians. I noticed more people wearing shorts, more people wearing colors, and realized that as a person wearing shorts and a color, I was drawing absolutely no attention to myself. I looked normal. Until I had to wait at a major intersection for a moment to cross along with four men. Each of them, in turn, took note of me and then did something that could have been a subconscious tick to make themself look more attractive to me. One guy made a phone call to indicate popularity. One guy ate a breath mint to draw attention to his mouth and show he would taste good. One guy moved slightly to allow me space to cross the street, showing manners. It is entirely possible all of this was nothing, but in my own head, it was hysterical. 

Just about half-way home, as my skin was singing with glee for it's exposure to the brilliant spring air, a guy on the sidewalk gave me the full up and down look-over and smiled and nodded approvingly at me. I nearly burst out laughing. On the one hand, I did set out in my shorts to get some sort of public validation that there is nothing weird about me wearing shorts. But on the other hand, seriously? This was my own self-imposed therapy homework; I wasn't out trolling for men. Not to mention what a load of crap things like catcalls are anyway. They never work, they only show the cat-caller as an ignorant buffoon. But today, I felt so good, I got a giggle out of it - once I was out of earshot because I didn't want him to think I was flattered. 

I even stopped at the drug store before going home to pick up a couple of things and the older gentleman in front of me in line struck up a conversation. I chatted with him and the cashier about the gorgeous weather while I paid for my things and then I came home. 

Nobody exploded. Nobody went blind. Nobody shouted mean things about how a woman my size should wear shorts that short. I was out in public for about half an hour in shorts and nothing terrible happened. On the contrary, something wonderful happened. I felt good about myself, about my appearance. And my skin loved getting some fresh air and sunlight. My body loved getting some exercise. It was, all in all, an empowering experiment. 

And now I am back home wearing long trousers, back in my comfort zone, with plenty of things to think about. Happy spring, everybody!

May 9 - Stuff

There is this funny division between "actors" and "improvisers" that I don't necessarily think should be there. Now, keep in mind, I've done improv and I've done scripted theatre, but I've done more scripted theatre than improv. I've not studied improv as intensely as some - I kind of know what a Harold is, but I likely couldn't do one. Granted, some of the troupes I've seen performing Harold's can't really do them either, but that is beside the point. But I have done two fully improvised films and I used to be part of a short-form improv troupe when I was in college. Anyway. 

It seems to me that improvisers think actors do really weird stuff and actors think improvisers are crazy. I could be wrong in both assessments, but that is my impression of the two groups. I also think this is unfortunate because I think both art forms have elements that the other would benefit greatly from if each side didn't spend so much time thinking the other was crazy. 

For example, I improvise all of the time when I perform. The way my lines come out, how I move through the space, how my scene partner's words effect me - these things all change from performance to performance depending on all sorts of things. Maybe there is something in my way on the stage, so I have to change a traffic pattern to make my cross. Maybe my scene partner is really angry one night, so I have to step it up or we'll look like we're in different plays. There are all kinds of things that can effect a performance and if I am going to live truthfully on stage, I have to be open to these changes. I have to be open to going with what is in front of me. Yes, I do it in the context of the show, but it is still a form of improvisation, and one that can be invaluable to straight-play actors. 

And I think improvisers can benefit from the idea of working within a certain framework. Whether it is a short form game or a long form show, there are certain things that happen on stage that you have to go with and stick to. It's just like working within the world that the playwright created for you, except you and your fellow performers are the playwrights. 

Which is all to say, it kind of bugs me that performers have to split themselves into various performance style camps. I think learning all of them allows us to be more well-rounded, versatile performers. 

Or something. I don't know. I have a show to do now. 

May 8 - Blank

I have no idea what to talk about today, which is why I'm writing this at twenty to eleven. Which also really isn't fair because I have a lot going on in my life and in my brain, but I can't seem to put it into a blog properly just yet. So today is a placeholder blog, just filling space until I take the time to actually write about my thoughts on playing traditionally male roles or the importance of improvisation in scripted acting. I'll get there, I promise. It's just a busy week. 

May 7 - Little Things

I think I'm also going to stop referring to myself as a "bigger girl" and start thinking of myself as a "cute little thing." See what happens. 

May 6 - On My Way...

So this happened today.

I know the who and the why and the how and I think it is really flattering and lovely, and I wish I had said more interesting things about being a woman playing traditionally male roles because I think that is an interesting conversation to have. But in any case, it happened and it feels absolutely lovely. As do all of the comments on various social media outlets congratulating me.

Thank you!

May 5 - Quote

I'm not going to remember what we were talking about just beforehand, but I know it was something delicious because I was just at rehearsal for this short piece I'm working on and there were three other brilliant women in the room and one brilliant man and we could have all talked for days about stuff that would have made all of our dendrites grow. But my reaction which made perfect sense at the time was, "Theatre is the best revenge."

Again, "Theatre is the best revenge."

The man in the room picked up on it and liked it as a quote, and the more I think about it, the more I do, too. I'm not going to try to explain the eighty-seven levels on which I feel it is appropriate to various things, people, and situations in my life, I'm just going to sit in and enjoy them for a little while. 

"Theatre is the best revenge."

Yes. 

May 4 - Balance

To hold and be held

Weakness can sometimes be strength

Adam to my Eve

May 3 - Dreams

I had a dream last night that I was at the very beginning of a relationship that some people didn't necessarily think I should be in or pursue. In my dream, the part of my love interest was played by an actor I know, with whom there is no real-life potential for anything, so that part of the dream was a bit odd to begin with. And most of it took place on a group outing to some Disney theme park in general, a candy store on the property in particular. People just kept buying more and more candy and I kept pretending I thought the candy sounded delicious even though as a vegan, I knew I would eat none of it. But this guy, my potential boyfriend kept holding my hand, or putting his arm around me and giving me a squeeze. I remember at one point in the dream, a friend who I hadn't seen in years called me over to ask if I honestly thought it was a good idea to date him, and I replied that even if he turned out to be just a "trip boyfriend," that was fine and I was having fun. Because I was. In my dream I loved him holding my hand. 

In real life, I am not a big hand holder. Hands tend to get sweaty and then you have to coordinate footsteps or else your arm gets jerked around and then there's the whole issue of whose hand is on top or whether or not you intertwine your fingers. But in this dream, I loved this guy holding my hand. I think it was the sweet, non-threatening physical contact, and the feeling that someone wanted me around in that way. It was lovely. 

I wonder if the realizations I came to a week or so ago about not putting so much weight on the opinions of those who will never approve of me had something to do with that dream. If I am no longer seeking their approval, maybe I can be more open to believing a potential boyfriend does approve of me and I can have a healthy relationship someday. 

In any case, it was a lovely dream about a boy holding my hand. Hopefully I'll find a real boy who's hand I like to hold just as much. 

May 2 - Vague

I made a decision a month or so ago and it's a doozie. It's one of those big, life-changing decisions that will either be the best decision I have ever made or the worst decision I have ever made. I've thought a lot about it, and about the alternative, and while the alternative is not bad, it feels less right than the choice I've made. So I'm excited. 

But that doesn't mean I'm not also terrified. Absolutely terrified. Because during this sort of transition period, I'm not doing some of the things I normally do in preparation, and there are a lot of big daunting tasks ahead that I don't normally have to worry about. I feel a little off as I forego some of my regular routines to make room for new ones. So lots of thinking and planning and preparation for something that could just as likely fail as succeed. And I can only do what I can do to try to make it a success - at a certain point, it's out of my hands. But I'm going to do what I can, everything that I can, and hope for the best. 

So if I seem out of sorts for a bit, it's because there are big things ahead. For real this time. 

And no, I'm not getting gender-reassignment surgery, though reading this over, it almost sounds like it, doesn't it? It's not that. If you don't already know what it is, I promise I'll tell you later (or offline) with more clarity. 

May 1 - Back on Track

Rabbit rabbit! Happy May, everybody!

So as you may remember, I was doing pretty well there for a while in terms of eating right and working out and I managed to lose some weight - somewhere between seven and nine pounds, which is not too shabby. But then tech happened and the show opened and my schedule went kablooie again and I started slacking off. It happens. One good thing about it, though, is that I've not been beating myself up for slacking off. And I've not gained all of the weight back, either, which is nice. I was just sort of looking at it as a little bump in the road on my way to my goal weight. I don't know that I have a magic goal weight in mind, but there are still a few pounds I wouldn't mind getting rid of, if I can.

So today is the day. Today is the day I buckle down and start again. I'm going to track calories and exercise daily, whether or not I want to, and I am going to do what I can to lose ten pounds this month (or as close as I can get to losing ten pounds this month). I started the day with fifty crunches and ten pushups, and I did some leg lifts in the ladies' room at work. I'm going to do this.

Of course, if I do this, if I am successful in losing ten actual pounds in the next thirty-one days, that will be the skinniest I have been in probably ten years or better. I'll have to change the way I think about myself. I'll have to stop seeing a "bigger" girl and see a "healthy weight" girl, or even a "skinny" girl. I think I can do that. At the very least, I'd like to give it a try.

Off we go! Ten pounds in thirty-one days. I can do this.

April 30 - Dry

I went to the eye doctor today for my yearly exam so they'll let me buy more contact lenses and I learned two very interesting things about my eyes: 

1. My distance vision has improved in both eyes, though the degree of astigmatism in my left eye has increased. 

2. My tears evaporate quickly, which means if I don't blink often enough, my eyes get very dry. 

The first one is just odd. I've always known I was odd, and now I have proof. My distance vision has improved. How often does that happen?

But the one that really hit me is the second one about my tears evaporating quickly. It felt like some big metaphor for my life. Something about my tears not sticking around long enough to do what they're supposed to do, or something like that. 

It's actually a fairly simple fix - eye drops and up my flaxseed intake. But my brilliant, beautiful, healthy, ginormous eyes dry out easily because my tears evaporate quickly. I'm going to have to sit in that one for a little while. 

April 29 - Theatre

So I'm not doing very well with not caring what people who will never approve of me think. Yet. I think it is a process, and I'm not going to give up on this road, but I'm not an expert yet. Which means I still have long, frustrating days that just leave me emotionally exhausted. 

But then I get to go to the theatre. To rehearsal or to a performance and poof! All is well; my energy comes back. I get to smile. And I am reminded that there are plenty of people out there who do approve of me. Including myself. 

Thank goodness I have theatre. I'd hate to think who I'd be without it. 

April 28 - Others

Before I say anything, I want to say that I am truly blessed to have such an amazing group of friends and such a brilliant family. I am quite often surrounded by kind, loving, intelligent, funny, supportive people and I find myself completely humbled that I get to consider myself part of this group. I know exactly how lucky I am to know these people and to have them in my life and I will love them forever for that.

On the other hand, though, I do often times find myself surrounded by some really horrid people who are not very nice to me at all. It's part of life - you can't like everyone all of the time. And there are a million blogs and articles out there about how you should rid your life of those who make you miserable so you can achieve true happiness and how life is too short to put up with idiots and all that sort of thing, but this is not one of those blogs. Because while those are nice, happy sentiments, they are not always feasible. What if you have a co-worker who just plain rubs you wrong, but the country is in the middle of a recession and you can't afford to quit your job? What if you are twelve years old and your fifteen year old sister is a nightmare but you both have to keep living with your parents because you are, you know, minors? What if you really love your aunt, but her husband is a total douchecanoe and they very seldom do anything without one another? It is not always an option to just plain cut someone out of your life. Sometimes, no matter how much you want to, you just can't. Or at least, you can't right now. When the country gets out of a recession, you can find another job. When you and your sibling grow up, you don't have to live with them anymore. And you can spend the next twenty years praying your aunt gets a divorce. But in the meantime, there has to be a coping mechanism.

Going back to what I was saying the other day, about how much it hurt me to hear Frank Turner say he doesn't think very highly of himself, I wonder how much of my negativity toward myself is because I have spent so much time around people who are not nice to me. Probably a lot. But it's like the puppy being trained to not pee on the carpet - even after he's learned his lesson, he still cringes at the sound of a newspaper crinkling for fear it is destined to thwap him on the nose. So if I have spent enough time around people who don't respect my opinions, don't listen to my contributions, and don't seem to value me as a human being, it seems only natural that my response would be to start to think that most people don't respect my opinions, don't want to listen to me, and don't value me as a person, right? Makes sense. I'm not saying it is a good reaction, but perhaps an understandable one.

It is also a reaction I would like to change.

Because I think I am the sort of person who has good ideas and valuable contributions. I think I am the sort with well-thought-out opinions that deserve a voice. I think I am a valuable human being, and I think the amazing group of friends and brilliant family I talked about at the beginning of this post would agree with me on that.

So I think part of my coping mechanism for dealing with these people who do not value me is to stop valuing their opinions of me so much. I think that is the part that has been driving me so crazy - I know what I am worth and it bothers me that these other people don't seem to see it, so I try to make them, but they're not looking, so I just get hurt and disappointed. Many of these people have known me for a long time and if they haven't figured out my worth by now, nothing I do moving forward is going to change that. So perhaps I need to stop trying so hard to gain their approval.  What if, instead of seeking their approval, I asked myself, "What kind of person treats someone as amazing as I am, badly?" I don't like to be the sort who casts dispersions on others, but in this instance, I do think that it has more to do with them than it does with me. The sort of person who sees beauty and has to ruin it. The sort of person who sees intelligence and has to belittle it. The sort of person who sees a free spirit and has to cage it. They must be an unhappy or insecure lot, and I am sorry for that. I think I am also ready to stop sacrificing my happiness for their sake. And I think I am ready to stop giving these people my best when I only get their worst in return.

Because while it may not be feasible to cut them out of my life entirely, I can at least take control of how much of my life I devote to them. Hopefully, doing so will my our future interactions less painful for me.

Hopefully.

April 27 - Love

I've said it before and I'm sure I'll say it again, but I love theatre. There is very little that makes me happier than a good rehearsal or a good performance. If I can do this every day for the rest of my life, I will die a very happy woman. 

April 26 - Self-Image of Others

So I heard a radio interview the other day with Frank Turner, who I absolutely adore, and in the interview, he mentioned that he doesn't necessarily have a very high opinion of himself. I guess if you listen to his music, you can tell - he talks about cutting when he was younger and sings, "I'm not as awesome as this song may sound/I'm angry, underweight, and sketching out." So it shouldn't have been so surprising to me to hear him say that he doesn't think very highly of himself. But it was. From what I know of him, he is intelligent and funny and thoughtful and dedicated and passionate and loyal, all of which are qualities I value highly in other human beings. So it kind of bothered me to hear him say otherwise. 

I have also recently read all of Go Fug Yourself's recaps of Lindsay Lohan's reality show. Granted, I've not watched the actual show, only read the recaps, but they do mention that several times, she talks about how people keep telling her that she is considered for every role because she is the most talented actress currently working. I've not worked with her, but I think the last thing I saw her do that was decent was Mean Girls. Since then, it seems to have been a steady decline. And she has a reputation for lying, not taking responsibility for herself, being late, and being difficult to work with. Yet she still seems to think she is hot shit. 

I don't get it. I just don't get it. 

One thing these opposing tidbits made me think about was all of the people who have said nice things to me and about me when I have been down on myself. My friend who yelled at me for not playing music anymore because other people need to hear it. The directors who have emailed me after auditions, apologetic that they didn't have a role to offer me because I rocked and they do want to work with me someday. My mother who is pained by the fact that I would ever for a moment think I am not good enough. And I wonder if me saying bad things about myself hits them the same way Frank saying bad things about himself hit me. If so, to all of those people, I apologize. I don't mean to sully your image of someone you think of highly. 

But then I also wonder why quality people like Frank think little of themselves and those of perhaps a lesser quality like Lindsay think so highly of themselves. Is it position in life? Is it being surrounded by "yes men" all of the time? Is it necessary or normal for quality people to have low self-esteem? Is humility that attractive? 

I don't know. The simple answer is I don't know. I would like to tell Frank, though, that even though we've not met, I adore him and think he is exactly as awesome as that song may sound, if not moreso. And I would like to tell Lindsay that acting is a skill that will atrophy over time if not used or practiced and that perhaps if she dedicated herself to doing the things she claims to love doing, maybe she would get to do them more often. And I would like to say to any of you who hold me in high regard, thank you. I will do my best to be worthy of your respect, and to respect it by not bad-mouthing it. 

April 25 - Flying Solo, Part Two

Oh! One more thing about flying solo!

The other day I did a lot to convince you that as you go through life on your own, nobody else is paying attention and therefore, nobody else cares what you are doing. I need to add an addendum: every now and again, someone will notice. As you are happy, confident person walking down the street smiling to yourself because you're being super productive, someone might notice you. And they will either think you are silly or they will be envious of the strong, confident person smiling to herself as she walks down the street. Either way, you get to become a story for them. A story they get to share with their loved ones that brings them closer together. This is not meant to be a scary thought. This is the gift you get to give the world - you get to give other people stories every now and again, too. 

Awesome, yes?

April 24 - Styling

The fun part about doing shows set in the 1940's is that the 1940's were much kinder to women in terms of fashion silhouettes. Women were allowed to have hips and boobs then, and as a woman with hips and boobs, I love getting to wear clothes that both fit and flatter. Not to mention the make-up and hair were fun and feminine. It's fun to play dress up in 1940's clothes. 

Of course, there were a lot of things that sucked for women in the 1940's. Not the least of which was having to look like this all of the time. It takes a lot of time and effort to do this, and I can't imagine not being able to go out in public not fully done up. I am never indecent when I go out, but I will occasionally walk a block to the drug store wth wet hair and glasses when my eyes and hair need a break. But to have to have foundation and blush and eyeliner and mascara and a girdle and a dress and hose and heels and lipstick in order to leave the house...I couldn't do it every day. 

Which is too bad, really, because this is a good look for me. It is just too much work to maintain with any sort of regularity. 

It is fun to play, though. 

April 23 - Shakespeare

Today is (most likely) William Shakespeare's 450th birthday. Happy birthday, Will, and thank you for everything!

Now, I know, I know, it may or may not have actually been William Shakespeare who wrote all of the plays we have come to call his. It may have been someone else, or a collaboration, or whatever. The thing is, and I may sound ignorant or flippant for saying this, but I don't really care. Someone wrote these amazing plays and this beautiful poetry and whoever it was, we have, at the very least, come to call that person William Shakespeare. To whatever person (or persons) are now represented by the name William Shakespeare, I thank you. I love your work. 

I am not a Shakespeare expert by any stretch of the imagination, and I can imagine that there are some of you out there who are currently rolling your eyes and thinking, "Ugh, Shakespeare," or something to that effect. To you, I apologize that you likely had a bad English teacher who didn't know how to teach you to enjoy Shakespeare. I would entreat you to give it another go, keeping a few simple things in mind:

1. Shakespeare is meant to be performed, not read. That's not to say you shouldn't read it, but I can promise you, you'll get a lot more out of it if you read it out loud, preferably with others. It's more fun that way, anyway. 

2. If you're watching a performance and you don't know what is going on, it is because the actor doesn't know what he or she is saying. The language can be a bit much at times, and Shakespeare does have a tendency to write long, poetic monologues full of extended metaphors and such, but all of that crap is in there for a reason. If the actor knows the reason, it will come across in the performance. If they don't, they'll just be up there spouting words and likely getting as lost in them as you are. That's their fault, not your ignorance. 

3. The language may be daunting, but really, it is mostly dirty jokes. Really. Shakespeare wrote for the masses; he did not write for royalty. And as much as we like dick jokes and sexual innuendo now, they liked them back then, too. So rid yourself of the idea that it is all beautiful, flowery language about concepts you can't understand. A lot of it is six thousand ways to say, "Let's boink."

4. Shakespeare was written to be "actor-proof." If you're thinking about performing Shakespeare and don't know what to do with the verse language, relax. He drew you a road map using punctuation, scansion, and line breaks. There are some great resources out there to tell you what all of these things mean, and once you know them, it all makes a boatload more sense. 

5. Loads of us like Shakespeare and like to talk about Shakespeare. Seriously. We feel extraordinarily smart when we find some little trick in the text and we want to talk to people about it. So if there is something you don't understand, or you have a friend in a show that they want you to come see but you're afraid to go to because you think you'll get lost, ask questions. Most Shakespeare lovers I know are more than happy to give a quick "modern-day language" run-down of a scene or a plot device if you need help figuring out what's going on. So please, ask. We love talking about this stuff. 

So with all of that in mind, go pick up a Shakespeare book, or better yet, find a performance happening in your town and go see it. You will find lines you recognize, phrases he invented that you use all the time, jokes in shows you never knew were funny. It is quite possible he has had the greatest literary influence on the world since...I don't know when. And for that, we all owe him a debt of gratitude. 

Many thanks to you, Will, and many happy returns of the day. 

April 22 - Update

I'm at tech rehearsal right now. Tech is kind of fun because it is when costumes and lights and sets all come together and you start to feel like you have a show. Yay for having a show!

April 21 - Ego

If you've been reading this for any length of time, you've probably picked up on the fact that I have no ego. Or very little ego. But I will say this: there are some times, not often, but some times, when I am so freakin' cute I can barely stand it. Today is one of those days. It is the dress plus the hair plus the shoes plus the make up. I'm just adorable. It's weird to me to walk past a window and catch my reflection and see "adorable." And it also makes me hope that if I ever do get to meet Tom Hiddleston or David Tennant or Zachary Levi randomly walking down the street, it happens on a day like today when I am too freaking adorable for words. That would make for a pretty great day. 

April 20 - Thoughts

I'm not a religious person, but I wish a happy Easter to those who celebrate it. 

I know Easter is a big holiday for Christians, but one of the biggest take-always I got from it as a kid is that it is about rebirth. The resurrection of Christ, happening in the spring, the symbols of eggs and rabbits stolen from Pagan tradition, it's all about rebirth. I can get behind that. 

This morning, I woke up able to breathe through my nose, and with no pain in my leg. It felt wonderful. The sniffles and watery eyes came back mid-afternoon, but when I first woke up, I felt like a new person, or at least like myself again. Plus, to be able to open the windows in my apartment and get some fresh, warm air in was lovely. Not quite as dramatic as rising from the dead, I know, but sometimes you have to take the small victories where you can find them. 

Happy Easter. And may you find the rebirth you need, if you need one. 

April 19 - Tim Curry

The first actor I can remember choosing as my favorite actor was Tim Curry. His turn as Wadsworth in Clue was just about my favorite thing in the world, and after several viewings of the film, I made sure to take note of his name so I could look for him in other projects, too. In truth, I watched a lot of bad movies because Tim Curry was in them. He generally plays a villain, he generally dies, and he is always amazing. When Spamalot came to Chicago before it went to Broadway and Tim Curry was among the stars, I had to go. That was, I think, the first time I went to live theatre by myself. And it was amazing. My seat was "obstructed view," though in the front row, and the obstruction was often times Tim Curry's ass. It was a great show. I've never had the privilege of meeting him, but I've dreamt of working with him for the longest time. 

Today is Tim Curry's birthday. Thank you, sir, for all of your work, for everything you have given the world of theatre, the world of film, the world of television, and the world of music. You have made us laugh, you have haunted our dreams, and you gave me my absolute favorite way to say "hello." And that is all without throwing in what you did for those who like to see men in ladies' undergarments. Thank you for that, too. Here is to many more years of brilliant performances, and hopefully no more medical scares. Happy birthday, sir!

April 18 - Um...

I have nothing interesting to say today. I was productive on my day off, but my head would still rather be elsewhere, doing other things, like going into business producing phlegm for the rest of the planet. I'm working myself up to a trip to the drug store, once I can figure out if I should get cold medicine or allergy medicine. Maybe some of each. 

But despite feeling crappy, I felt good most of the day. Getting things done, learning another song on the ukulele. It's nice to make some progress. 

Hopefully I'll have something interesting to say tomorrow. 

April 17 - Sick

The summer I turned seventeen, I got to spend a month in Spain with my classmates. We were in Madrid for two days, Salamanca for three weeks, and the Costa del Sol for three or four days before we then went home. By the time we got to the Costa del Sol, some of us got sick. It was inevitable - twenty-some-odd teenagers staying out all night, functioning on three hours of sleep a night for a month, some dealing with their first (or first legal) hangovers, and all smushed together in buses and hotel rooms, we were bound to get sick. Not to mention, it was hot and humid as hell where we were staying. And I distinctly remember my one friend, who I am still somewhat in touch with today, just felt like ass for the whole end of the trip. He had somehow come into a sombrero on the trip, and thought it would be funny to walk around the hotel halls in jean shorts, a t-shirt, socks, flip-flops, and this sombrero, and holding a knife one of our other friends had picked up as a souvenir. In our sickness, we thought it was hysterically funny, too. And he would sort of sing (even though I'm pretty sure he would tell you he doesn't sing) "I feel crappy," as if he was singing "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story, but those were the only words he knew. And since we all found this rib-ticklingly delightful, he was laughing while he did it. So I have this very vivid memory of my friend dressed silly, wielding a knife, singing "I feel crappy." It is one of my most treasured memories. 

So now when I feel crappy, I feel like I have to have the same positive attitude about celebrating my illness that my friend had all those many years ago. I feel like death. Yay! It's certainly more fun than having a pity party about it. 

April 16 - On Being Alone

We all know I've spent a ridiculous amount of my life single. And we all know I've done a lot of really cool stuff in my life. And we all know that a lot of the cool stuff I've done in my life, I've done by myself. Flying solo is kind of my thing.

I know flying solo can be scary for other people, though, so I thought I would take a little time today to talk about why doing things on your own is actually kind of awesome. And no, I'm not going to rehash other people's lists about how you can do things on your own schedule and you don't have to wait for your friends and other crap like that. Those are the easy, obvious reasons why hanging out by yourself is cool. Here are a few other ones.

There are People Everywhere
Wait a second, you're talking about how cool it is to be alone by mentioning other people? Yes. See, a lot of people are afraid of their own thoughts and afraid that they won't have someone to share things with and whatnot. But the thing is, there are people everywhere. And chances are if you're out doing something you enjoy, there are other people there who enjoy that very same thing. So if you're feeling lonely, or suffering from pressure of speech, there are other people you can talk to. Sit at the bar and talk to the bartender. Make a joke to the person standing behind you in line. Notice another person there alone and ask what brought them out. This doesn't mean you're hitting on them, or that you should hit on them, and you don't have to have a lovely evening chatting that results in life-long Facebook friends. It's just putting on your best extrovert face for ten minutes and actually telling the woman in the cute dress that you think her dress is adorable. You never know what might happen. Maybe something, maybe nothing. But just like you can buy a new toothbrush if you forget one while travelling, you can find someone to talk to if you really want to speak.

Nobody Cares That You're Alone
Okay, that might sound mean, but it's true, and once you embrace that fact, the world is your oyster. Which is actually a really odd phrase because oysters are small and can be consumed in one bite and isn't that phrase supposed to mean you can do whatever you want or all of life's possibilities are now open to you? Is it more to do with the oyster shell opening up? Other things have bigger shells. Is it a pearl hunt thing? I'm getting side-tracked. Sorry.

The first time I can remember that I went and did something by myself that other people normally do in pairs or in groups, I went to see Ed Wood on the night of the Homecoming dance my senior year of high school. Talk about taking on a lot all at once, right? I had to deal with the fact that a) I was not asked to Homecoming, b) my friends (who I found out later were having an anti-Homecoming party) did not think to ask me to join them, and c) I was going out somewhere public without a wingman in tow. I was nervous as hell. I worried that the ticket-taker would look at me funny when I bought just one ticket. I worried that the guy at the concession counter would look at me funny when I bought snacks. I was worried that I would mess up the seating arrangements in the theatre because sitting by myself, I had now thrown an odd number of patrons into a row of even-numbered seats. I worried that the other couples and groups in the theatre would snicker at me or pity me behind my back - "Poor girl has no friends." But when I got there and looked around, I noticed that absolutely nobody was paying attention to me. We live in a very self-involved society, so this should not have been the surprise that it was, but it is true. Absolutely nobody was paying attention to me. Not a single person. Not a couple. Not a group. Nobody cared that I was there by myself. Nobody got bent out of shape at having to sit in this row instead of that one. Nobody paid the slightest bit of attention to the snacks I ate. And then poof! None of it mattered anymore.

I think, especially at a young age, the way we conduct ourselves in public is largely contingent upon those we are hanging out with at any given time. For example, if you go to a movie with your friends and you laugh at something they don't think is funny, you might become embarrassed or feel bad about it, so you learn to not laugh moving forward in an attempt to avoid future embarrassments. After all, you want these people to continue to be your friends and people, especially young people, can be fickle about who they like and why. But, if you remove the pressure of having to behave in a certain way in front of people you already know, you can laugh at whatever makes you laugh. You can cry without anyone seeing the tears. And you still get to keep your friends because at the end of the day, they weren't there so they don't know about it. "But what about the other people in the theatre?" you may ask. We've already established that they're not paying attention to you, so why does it matter what they think? You will never see them again in your life, so there is no chance for future embarrassments. Or, if you do see them again, since they weren't paying that much attention to you in the first place, they will not remember you. Trust me on this.

Your Thoughts Become Yours
Yeah, this one sounds weird, right? But it is true. When I first started hanging out solo (and even now, to some extent, when I do something alone I've not done before), I spent a lot of my time wondering how other people were perceiving me. Were they judging my clothes? Did they feel bad for me because I didn't have a partner in crime with me? Were they laughing at me? I think a lot of people involved in solo activities tend to think this way, or they are afraid of what kinds of thoughts they will have when they don't have the distraction of another person around. I think these thoughts are the most prevalent ones that creep in - the "what do other people think of me?" thoughts. And then you start to answer them and that's when things can get scary and depressing.

However, if we look back at point one, a quick scan of the room will show that nobody is, in fact, paying attention to you. So they are not forming thoughts or opinions about you and your station in life based on the fact that you happen to be hanging out alone just now. So all of those questions are now answered. "Are they judging my clothes?" No. "Do they feel bad for me because I don't have a partner in crime?" No. "Are they laughing at me?" No. Done. So, now, what do you want to think about next?

And here is where things get fun. Without all of those pesky other people in your head, you can think about whatever you want to think about. You can make up stories about their lives. You can try to think of an easier way to play an E major chord on the ukulele. You can think about how to resolve the plot problem you've run into in your short story. You can think about what sort of fun, silly surprise you'd like to plan for your significant other the next time you see them. You can take the time to actually consider from all angles whether or not you are a bikini person or if a one-piece would make you more confident. You can figure out a diplomatic way to ask for a raise at work. You can think about anything and everything you've needed to think about but haven't had time for because you've been too busy interacting with other people. It's amazing and brilliant and liberating and rejuvenating. And then you get to giggle to yourself about how productive you're being while out shopping for underwear in a crowded mall.

You Get to Giggle More
So as you're running around now, not worried about what other people are thinking, enjoying the thoughts you're having that you've needed to have for a long time, the occasional smile will cross your lips before you can even think twice about it. You suddenly have a moment of, "Oh, crap, I'm smiling in public all by myself! People are going to think I'm crazy. Or they're going to think I'm smiling at them! I didn't mean to smile at that woman and her kid. I hope she knows I'm not a kidnapper or anything." This moment can start to spiral out of control, and it often does, until it gets around to it's illogical conclusion that you need to run to the center of the mall and shout as loudly as you can, "I don't want your kids! I was just enjoying the last train ride I took in Berlin!" And then the thought of actually doing that, and how people would react if you actually did that, and how funny it would be if someone else did that, and how completely out of context your train of thought has taken you hits you and you realize how ridiculous it is. So you giggle. In public. To yourself. Except now you know how potentially silly you look to other people, and how completely innocent you are in your silliness, so you get to giggle a little bit more. And the thought occurs to you that other people might think you're odd but by this point, it just feels so good to laugh that you really don't care. Because, going back to things mentioned in point number one, you're never going to see any of these people again so who cares? Giggle away, my friends. Giggle away.

You Become Intriguing
You are now the person who confidently does things alone, including smiling and laughing to herself in public. Tell me you don't enjoy the thought of other people trying to figure out what brilliant things are making you smile and laugh to yourself in public. Go ahead and try. You love it; you know you do.

And even if you don't, going back to point number one, they're really not wondering in the first place, so it doesn't matter.

You Get More Stories
This might be the best part of hanging out alone. I think we all have that fear that we will eventually run out of things to say to our friends or significant others. But if you spend time alone, confidently doing the things you want to do and not paying attention to people who aren't paying attention to you, you actually end up accumulating stories that you can share with people at a later date. Maybe you were dining alone and you overheard a conversation about the importance of mushrooms in the local ecosystem. Maybe you were out shopping and you saw a kid experience bubble stuff in the toy store for the first time. Maybe you were rocking out to your favorite song while driving in your car and the cute guy in the car next to you caught your eye and smiled. These are the most precious stories. Stories about life as it happens. And you get to be privy to these stories because for once, you were not concerned with the world's perception of you, you were just able to be entirely in the moment around you. These stories are yours, and you can share them with your loved ones for years to come.

Because the truth of the matter is, you are not alone. Everyone has someone to share things with - your parents, your friends, your spouse, your companion animal. Everyone has someone who cares about them, even if that person is not in the same physical location at a specific moment. There is always someone to tell your stories to after spending a day having adventures on your own. And if you ever doubt that, even for a second, remember that you can always come here and tell your stories to me, because I would love to hear them.

April 15 - Birthday

Today is the birthday of a man I loved very intensely for a very long time, but who I now hardly even know. Happy birthday, Fucknut. I hope you are happy, where ever you are and whatever you are doing. Love you. 

April 14 - Spring?

For a change of pace, it is snowing in Chicago. 

Really?

Really!?!

Mother Nature, I get it. You're having a hard time making sense of all of the crap we've done to this planet. I'm sorry about that. But you do know that the seasons are off, yes? I don't think it is Oberon and Titania fighting - their fight kept winter away too long. So is this someone else fighting, or are you just really pissed at us?

I figured out what it is that is really getting to me now. It's the lack of green. Since spring is taking so long to get here, we've really had six months of brown and gray. Ireland was lovely because even though it was kind of chilly while I was there, there was green everywhere. The light in Ireland is different, too, so the green really did look greener. But now I'm in Chicago where we've had nothing but gray and brown for six months. Six months with no color. That may sound like an odd complaint from someone who wears mostly black and white, but I like to see colors. I just don't like them on me. And we're overdue. We're way overdue for some color, for some green and some yellow and some purple and some red...

So please, Mother Nature (or whoever is fighting), accept my apology. On behalf of the human race, I'm sorry we've messed up your planet. Can we please have spring or summer and some color? Pretty please?

April 14 - Ouch

There is very little that makes a person feel simultaneously ancient and six years old like tripping, falling, and skinning one's knee. My body is creaking and unhappy after the spill, and I'm afraid if the weather warms up a bit again and I want to wear a dress, I'm going to look like a schoolgirl who fell on the playground. 

On the other hand, I think we all know I have a strange fascination with how the human body heals itself, so I'll have a couple of nice bruises I can keep track of for a couple weeks. So there's that. 

April 13

Boys. 

April 12 - Haiku

Beautiful day in Chicago

This is not right. 

Hot guy is married. 

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 10 - Play

There is a reason they are called "plays."

I love rehearsal. 

April 9 - Project

I sometimes forget how much fun it is to make costumes. When you get one right piece, the rest seems to fall into place. 

April 8 - Sexuality

This is, admittedly, a half-formed thought, so if it comes out really strange or makes no sense, that is why. 

I was thinking about sexuality today, kind of in the context of some of the badass women I've been seeing on TV and in movies lately. While there is a huge part of me that is like, "Yay strong women who can (literally) kick ass when they need to!" there is another part of me that wonders why they all have to do it in skimpy outfits and high heels. Think about the female super spies you see, or the Bond girls, or female comic book heroes. Sci-fi and comics, I think, are important in this aspect because a lot of cues for how we should act in the future are and have been first introduced in the alternative worlds created by fantasy writers. And while a lot of these women in these worlds are smart and strong and independent and brilliant and wonderful role models, there is still this overarching stench of sexuality on them. I get it, I do. From a very practical standpoint, a lot of these women were written by men, or by women who know their material has to appeal to men if it is going to sell, so of course they are sexy. But I think some of the time, it is passed off as these characters being comfortable and secure in their sexuality, them owning their own sexuality, which manifests in skimpy, sexy, form-fitting, semi-impractical costumes. This is the part with which I take issue. 

First of all, there is a lot about a woman that is sexy that has nothing to do with her cup size. I know that on occasion, when I've worn menswear (suit and tie type menswear), I've gotten comments about how sexy it is, or what a good look it is for me. Everything is covered, but it's a sexy look. I know other men who have said there is nothing sexier than a pregnant woman. By which I mean to illustrate not only that sexy is subjective, but that it means something different to everyone. So why do almost all of our female superheroes embrace their sexuality with form-fitting or revealing clothing? Couldn't one own her sexuality in sweats?

And the real problem that I see resulting from this has manifested best in our young Hollywood starlets who want to transition from girlhood to womanhood by embracing their own sexuality and walking around half naked. From where I'm sitting, that is not embracing one's own sexuality; that is subscribing to someone else's idea of what sexy is. Not to mention, they're running around "being sexy" all of the time for everyone, which makes it an act. What happens when one of these starlets finds someone with whom she actually wants to be honestly sexy and vulnerable? How do they know the difference? How does she?

So my half-formed thought was what if owning one's sexuality did not mean showing it to everyone, but making sure someone earns it or deserves it before sharing it? If my sexuality is mine, I should be able to dictate when I use it, when I share it, and who I share it with. And maybe it is just where I am in my life right now with all of the crap I've been thinking about lately, but I think I want to make sure someone earns the right to my sexuality before I share it with him. Is that crazy?

What is perhaps crazier is how we have programmed ourselves as women to think that our worth is dictated by the men in our lives, and that if we don't have this guy now, we'll never have anyone ever. I thought it when I was younger. If a man wanted to date me, I had better go because he chose me. If a guy wanted to make out, I should because he chose me. What I think I'm starting to realize now (and how sad that it has taken me this long) is that I do actually have a choice in the matter. I don't owe anyone else a glimpse of my sexuality, a glimpse of my soul, or a glimpse of my heart. These things are mine to be shared with those I choose, not to be broadcast all over the interweb, or to hang out of an unbuttoned mesh shirt. 

So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I am a sexy, attractive, brilliant, strong, independent woman while wearing a tie, a sweater vest, button down shirt, jeans, and Chucks. This is my sexuality and I'm gonna own it. 

April 7 - Disbelief

Film and television are based on the suspension of disbelief. It is what allows us to believe that Thor is real or that smart, funny, charming men who can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans like Chuck Bartowski actually exist. It is what allows us to forget about our lives for a few minutes and pretend we live in a different world. It's really fun. 

The strange thing about being an actor, though, is how quickly I can be snapped out of the world created by whatever program I'm watching. I either know how something was shot, or pick up on some little continuity problem, or I see the face of a friend I knew in college or the stage manager I worked on some other show with who does some acting sometimes. I wonder how things like that will change if I ever get to a place in my career where I know (or have met) even more of the people I see on screen. Will I love everything a certain actor does even if it is crap because I think he's a guy who deserves to succeed? Will I not believe any of my girl friend's roles because I know how long it took her to learn her lines? I hope not. I hope that if I get to the point where the movies and TV shows I watch are full of my friends I can still enjoy and appreciate their work for what it is. And I hope I never lose the ability to lose myself in the worlds created by the film makers. 

April 6 - Change

Change is a terrifying thing. I like to know what is coming because I like to be able to plan for things and examine situations intelligently. But sometimes, the conclusions I reach reinforce the need for change, and I have to remind myself that it is okay to plan for change. While I may not be able to plan every detail of the change itself, I need to commit to the idea that things will be different than they are now. 

Today, I took a small step toward that commitment. I need to take a couple more (okay, many more) steps, but one can only take one step at a time, right?

It's time for change. And change is good. 

April 5 - Extraordinary

I've noticed lately that a lot of the stories I like on television or in movies are about a relatively ordinary person to whom extraordinary things happen. Even in Doctor Who, the companions are relatively ordinary until they meet this extraordinary alien and craziness ensues. Now, maybe that's what most playwrites and screenwriters write about because they are compelling stories, but those are the stories I find myself drawn to and as I am in SUPER SELF-EXAMINATION mode, I find myself thinking about why. 

To talk about this further, I have to now put the caveat on this that these are thoughts and theories, not full-fledged opinions. I'm not sure which way much of this goes yet, but if I don't explore all options, I won't find the right answers, right?

So I wonder if I'm drawn to stories of extraordinary things happening to ordinary people because I find myself ordinary and hope that extraordinary things will happen to me. Though in truth, I don't think that's a fair assessment of me. I'm smarter than the average bear, I work really hard at the things I love, which means I've gotten good at a lot of things, and let's be honest, I've already done some fairly extraordinary things in my life. I've traveled the world by myself. I've played Hamlet. I've starred in several films and loads of theatrical productions. I learned to roller skate as an adult. I had my own band with which I headlined the number one rock club in Chicago. I've done some rather extraordinary things which makes me wonder if I am, in fact, an extraordinary person. The evidence would seem to suggest that is the more likely conclusion. 

But then according to the TV/movie theory, does being extraordinary preclude me from future extraordinary events? Because extraordinary people in film/theatre seem to always want to be ordinary (Harry Potter, the X-Men wanting to blend in, etc.). Like the principle that people with curly hair always want straight hair and those with straight always want curly. If that is the case, that's really disappointing. I've enjoyed my extraordinary experiences and want more, preferably bigger and more extraordinary, too. Does this make me an extraordinariness junkie? Am I okay with that? I think so. As long as I'm able to make extraordinary happen. 

I think those who know me and know me well would not describe me as ordinary. I'm okay with that. I think I just hope that if I am extraordinary, I have the opportunity to live that way for the rest of my life. Not that there is anything wrong with ordinary, I just don't think it's for me. 

April 4 - Haiku

How many are swans

And how many are nothing

More than ugly ducks?

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!

April 2 - Jeans and Chucks

I know it is wrong to objectify people. It is not cool, it is demeaning, and it fails to take into account far more important personality traits like intelligence, kindness, and wit. That said, as a woman who has from time to time been reduced to her component body parts, I will admit that sometimes, it is fun to objectify men. 

Now, I'm not saying that I want to take up a career in construction so I can holler at the men walking by to show me their abs. Nor do I think that there is only one body part that can make a man look ridiculously hot. There have been men who's forearms are so attractive it hurts, or who have sort of funky, sexy teeth. And I think it is at least somewhat fair to acknowledge these things. I dated a guy who could wear the hell out of a t-shirt. I don't even know how to explain it, but the way t-shirts hung on his frame was a thing of beauty. So if it makes me a shallow person to objectify men in this way, I'm okay with that. I think it's high time we paid more attention to the male form. 

And what brought this on, you may ask? Well, I think I also need to create a new category of fandom for myself in relation to male celebrities. So far, we have those whose work I really respect and admire and I hope to work with one day and by the way they're really hot like David Tennant or Tom Hiddleston. Then there are those who I appreciate the physical attractiveness of but would probably not know how to talk to or interact with and I'm fine with that like David Beckham. There are those I wish I could have a drink and a chat with and perhaps become friends with like Moby, Martin Freeman, or Simon Pegg. And now I have to create a category for those I think I'd get along with just fine but really I would just rather look at like Zachary Levi. Seriously, he should have been tipping his costume designer on Chuck if he wasn't because honestly, jeans and Chucks have never looked so good on anyone. Ever. The tall, lean lines, not too bulky, not too skinny, but still toned...the man can wear the hell out of a Henley, jeans, and Chucks. And most other things, too, but mostly the casual wear. 

So yeah, as I am watching and enjoying Chuck very much, I am kind of in awe of what a beautiful specimen of a man I'm laughing at and crying with in so many episodes. I know I am objectifying him in saying this which is terrible because by all accounts, he seems to be a nice guy, what with the Nerd HQ stuff he does and whatnot and we'd probably get along great if we ever met and we'd probably work well together. But for now, I just want to see him running around in jeans and Chucks. Sorry about that, Mr. Levi. 

April 1 - April

A couple of years ago, I had a particularly crappy February. At that time, I requested a do-over for the month of February. Of course, nothing ever came of that request, but I can't help but think about it now when we hit April and daytime temperatures are still projected to be in the 30s and 40s. See, if we'd had the do-over month, it would just be turning March now and this weather would make sense. 

Of course, if it was just turning March now, we'd still have another month to go before baseball. And even though the Cubs lost yesterday, I like having baseball back. 

Happy April.