so, in an effort to assure myself that i'm not really grad school material, i've been investigating grad schools this week. you know what i've figured out so far? there are a lot of forms and rules and all that whatnot in most of the programs. it doesn't sound like much fun. in fact, there aren't even many programs that even caught my attention for more than a click through moment on the internet.
click. click. click. close window. new google search. "the cheap and shitty graduate degree program that doesn't care if you hate grades but love education and will take you even if you suck at following the rules" hmmm, no relevant results, but a terrific link i'm going to bookmark with some snarky one liners that make me giggle. maybe i should just enter quickie degree mill and hope for the best? click. click. how about a banner ad school? perhaps a game of darts with the back pages of psychology today would yield better research results than actually trying. it'll prolly take me at least a year to even decide if i want to go on with my schooling anyway. i'm obviously in no rush to pick out another degree program.
there is a professor who entertained me immensely during my degree process. when he told me that i would be a good candidate for graduate school, my reply was simple and to the point. "HAVE YOU MET ME?!?" he laughed and explained that my penchant for being a pain in the butt about the rules was what made me such a good student. i didn't care about being on the honor roll or impressing anyone with my marks, but i was there to learn something and teach it to others. here i was, publicly declaring that as long as i passed i didn't care what else happened, all the while tutoring other people and asking provocative questions in class just to get a decent discussion going.
quite surprisingly, my advisor gave me the same to do in the last weeks of the semester. this made me suspicious, as if they had conspired to recruit more people into academia. he told me that i would be great in education and should consider getting a higher certification so that i could go into teaching on a university level. what? who ever heard of a teacher that hates school? these people must be seeing something in me that i can't begin to fathom. the whole "dance, monkey, dance" thing about academics makes me nutty. if can teach after just getting my BS in BS (really, that's what it is - no kidding) by the skin of my teeth, that should be good enough for me. if there's a loophole out there that will let me put this to use in an educational way and make enough money to buy the cat food, damn straight i can find it and use it to my advantage. that's what college really taught me. loopholes and negotiations are my two best friends on the bureaucratic front. oh, and my sweet smile.
but of course, my curiosity always gets the better of me. click. click. click. no, i don't want to get a degree that came from a link in my spam box. that's going too far for even a cheeky dolt like myself. you know, i could hide out in school for a really long time and not have to worry about getting a real life until well into my forties if i played my cards right. hello, i'm a college student in middle age and still worried about purchasing highlighters and exam booklets. let's all practice that statement together, shall we? doesn't exactly have a great ring to it, but i bet i could polish it up if i went into the right program.
new google search. "grad schools for hiding out from the real world while still being able to pay the mortgage and have a life" at least my searches are yielding some laughs. is there some kind of information school that will give me credit for making funky internet searches? i could totally hang with that. it could even be supplemented with a class researching 800 numbers dialed randomly using seven letter words. not that nick and i do that when we get bored or anything. hell no, we would never be that stooopid just to make ourselves laugh until we pee. we never used mix-a-lot as the seven letter word, either. nope. not us. me and my brother aren't that ginormously silly and you can't prove it.
gotta run:
it's target day with sam and linsey!
31 May 2010
30 May 2010
ep is emerging
another tech week has passed, and the shows from the kids look to be coming along better than even i had expected. working with first-time directors is about the cutest thing ever, especially since they're all teenagers. julie and i were commenting on how it's like listening to miniature versions of ourselves whenever they stop to inform us of all the mishaps and revelations and little things they're learning. that was the whole point of this project in the first place, to train younger artists on new stuff. i'm like twenty years older than the majority of the people involved in this whole hoo-ha and it's faboo! if you ever wondered why i'm such a childlike figure, it's because i spend my time hanging out with teens and being a big dork.
not too much backstage drama for the week. just an ambulance for a dehydrated panic attack, some freaked out phone calls back and forth, plenty of yelling, and a bit of new choreography. of course you know how i feel about every show needing a number, right? thank goodness someone built one into one of the scripts!
all in all, it was pretty normal except for the ambulance. all i know is that i would rather have that happen during tech than on a production night. the director of that show handled it very well, keeping levelheaded enough to both check on her actor and run back into the theatre to go on taking notes on everyone else while keeping them calm enough to finish the run that night. she even enlisted an understudy on the spot, without anyone telling her to do so, who had his lines and blocking down by the following rehearsal. who says a fourteen year old girl can't handle an emergency? she and the other directors have each had teensy problems like this and come through it with scars of honor so far. they've all done some theatre stuff before and know that shit happens so you just deal with it and fix the problem. luckily, it looks as if our poor sickly actor is fine. he asked for his script before he went to the ambulance and he was back at it the next night. talk about the show going on, huh?
the holiday weekend split up our normal tech schedule, so they have a few days away from the theatre and come back for two final dress rehearsals on tuesday. let's hope that everyone does at least a little something productive over the weekend so it isn't a massacre when we come back. to be honest, i'm kinda nervous about it being such a big break right before opening. i prolly shouldn't even worry. if i know them, then a few people will be cracking the whip so they don't get shown up as big assholes in front of the others. competition and peer pressure can be wonderful tools if used correctly.
so here is the tally:
impulse purchase alert!
daria: the complete animated series
holly's birthday present
stuff to make a spice cake of love
not too much backstage drama for the week. just an ambulance for a dehydrated panic attack, some freaked out phone calls back and forth, plenty of yelling, and a bit of new choreography. of course you know how i feel about every show needing a number, right? thank goodness someone built one into one of the scripts!
all in all, it was pretty normal except for the ambulance. all i know is that i would rather have that happen during tech than on a production night. the director of that show handled it very well, keeping levelheaded enough to both check on her actor and run back into the theatre to go on taking notes on everyone else while keeping them calm enough to finish the run that night. she even enlisted an understudy on the spot, without anyone telling her to do so, who had his lines and blocking down by the following rehearsal. who says a fourteen year old girl can't handle an emergency? she and the other directors have each had teensy problems like this and come through it with scars of honor so far. they've all done some theatre stuff before and know that shit happens so you just deal with it and fix the problem. luckily, it looks as if our poor sickly actor is fine. he asked for his script before he went to the ambulance and he was back at it the next night. talk about the show going on, huh?
the holiday weekend split up our normal tech schedule, so they have a few days away from the theatre and come back for two final dress rehearsals on tuesday. let's hope that everyone does at least a little something productive over the weekend so it isn't a massacre when we come back. to be honest, i'm kinda nervous about it being such a big break right before opening. i prolly shouldn't even worry. if i know them, then a few people will be cracking the whip so they don't get shown up as big assholes in front of the others. competition and peer pressure can be wonderful tools if used correctly.
so here is the tally:
- one cancer scare, followed by shock brought on by massive allergies, but thankfully no cancer
- one ambulance that didn't have to go to the hospital after all
- one (known) texting war
- one color-coded stage manager's book
- one near revolt by cast members
- one near revolt by project director
- one near revolt by a writer
- one "actors are jerks!"
- missed rehearsals for unknown reasons and forgetting to check email
- lateness due to stupidity and lack of scheduling and who knows what else
- several roles recast overall for various reasons, including health issues and quitting by text
- innumerable twitchy faces after rehearsal, especially by the stage managers
- much nagging by me and the staff
impulse purchase alert!
daria: the complete animated series
holly's birthday present
stuff to make a spice cake of love
26 May 2010
words i like today - chapter four
in yet another fabulous installment of lexiconical loot (are these real words, or am i just making them up?) from me to you, i present a list of words that make me happy right now.
the radio station in my head:
georgy girl
sort of
us
bad romance
holly loves like a hedgehog (don't ask)
dream a little dream of me
hey baby
downtown
when my ship comes in
- satification - coined by derek, at least in my awareness of it, this word is fully expresses the meaning of both satisfied and gratification at the same time. a prime example? eating meat gives me satification. yum.
- candelabra - a word that not only give your mouth a good feeling when you say it, but also manages to evoke graphic pictures in your head when you think about it. it's ethnic, it's victorian, it's dark, it's fun. and it even has a bra, though no one will tell me what size.
- stuff - i just like its all-encompassing nature, okay? live with it.
- unencumbered - it could be a salad without a particular vegetable or it could be a freewheeling state of mind. though the definition has been stated as the latter, i'm never really sure. in any case, it makes me want to fling my arms out in glee.
- jocular - like jokey, ya know? i'm not quite sure why this one came to me. perhaps because it sounds like it could be many different things, and yet i like it anyway.
- coagulate - ewwwww, i love it.
- buttcrack - am i juvenile? yes i am! but you have to admit, it's a hearty word that makes you giggle like an idiot for good reason. that viscreal "uuhhtttt" in the middle goes a long way for me on entertainment value.
- snackies - it just makes food more fun.
the radio station in my head:
georgy girl
sort of
us
bad romance
holly loves like a hedgehog (don't ask)
dream a little dream of me
hey baby
downtown
when my ship comes in
25 May 2010
yes, it did really happen... the bad day that was the best day ever
many of you have already heard this story, but it's a good reminder of how to keep things in perspective. you can thank veronica for reminding me of it. i'll warn you now that it's a long one, but i promise the payoff at the end is great.
while living in los crapeles, i had a few different jobs. one of them involved the education wing of the simon wiesenthal center. working for an important humanitarian non-profit in beverly hills seemed like a good fit for me, so i jumped at the chance to work for the museum of tolerance. the people were terrific, the job was great, but it did have one little hitch i wasn't really expecting. to put things in a light you'll understand, let me tell you this. to get to my former job here, about 12 miles away, it took me about 20 minutes worth of driving. the drive to my school here was around 45 minutes, but it's around 3o miles from my house. in order to get to my fabulous job for swc/mot i had to go maybe 8 miles... which took well over an hour on an average day. i knew about la traffic before, but i wasn't really prepared for the traumas of it during rush hour on a daily basis. even getting off early on fridays didn't help the mess of it all. so, everyone was giving me hints on which route to take and where all the side streets converge and so on in an effort to help me deal with the gridlock situation. i left each morning trying every way i could think of to get there without having a nuclear style meltdown or completely fucking up the clutch in my car.
on one particular day, i was exploring yet another alternative route (there were about five different optimal ways to get there, which were dictated by time of day and so forth, down to the very minute i would leave the house) to get to the museum in time to have my car searched. let explain this. when entering the garage of the building, a guard would have you get out while they searched your car from bumper to bumper. when entering the building, you had to go through a metal detector. even the employees had to be scanned and searched every single day, as we were working in what could be considered a target for hate crimes and terrorists. no kidding! it was a badge of honor i wore quite well and have kept my parking tag for the place ever since as a sentimental artifact. yep, it's in my car right now.
in any case, on the day of the fatal breakdown i was driving along and took the worst route i ever could have picked. construction, gridlock, wrecks, i had it all. about an hour into the trudge, i called work and left a message that i was running late. in an effort to counteract the clusterfuck, i changed to another street. things only got worse. some of the lanes were closed and all the cars in front of me wanted to turn or weave or some other jacked up thing. when i called derek in a panic about how i was going to get fired via cellphone while sitting in my car, he told me to calm down and call my boss again. i reached her office and told her where i was and what was happening, at which point she gave me a hint as to yet another side street i could take to get to work. that would've been great advice if the street had been accessible to me from where i was at the time, but part of the freeway was cutting me off from where i needed to be. of course i didn't know this at the time, so when i tried to get there i was even more fucked than before.
my car was starting to have flashing lights on the dash from creeping along in first or second gear for such an extended period of time. in trying to navigate the alleged shortcuts to work, i had been stuck out on the road for over two hours. by this time i was in tears and losing my marbles after a short jaunt of about 6 miles. miraculously, i found my way to an amazingly clear arterial street, probably now clear because rush hour was over and everyone else had managed to make it to their destinations except for me. after a few more stoplights i made it into the garage and up to the entrance. before heading to my post, i ran to the security office in the museum for my work jacket and passed by the break room. it was filled with docents and speakers waiting for their next tours. another important point you should know? the people hovering near the coffeemaker were all former neo-nazis and holocaust survivors. if you can imagine, that's most of the people i worked with at this job. they took one look at my bright red face and asked if i was okay. one gentle old lady pulled me aside and told me to go see my new boss before i went to work.
my boss was in shock at the state of me. as she was shuffling me from the office entrance in the next building into the conference room, i broke down almost immediately. what a sight i must have been! my feet were dragging me the conference table while i sobbed hysterically and every single person in the vicinity poked their heads out of doorways and up above cubicles to see what the hell was going on to create this stir. i sat down in a huge chair in the middle of the glass conference room as people walked by to see the spectacle. in those moments i cried so hard i must have turned purple and my head started to teeter in woozy swirls because my whole spine felt like it was giving way. it was the kind of cry you have as a small child, the kind where you can barely even speak between heaving breaths. my boss told me to ignore them and tell her what had happened. as i recounted my day of traffic horror, she held my hand in sympathy and let me know that she'd gone through a similar situation more than once. she assured me that i was not fired on account of all the cars in the world showing up on my morning drive, but that i needed to go get some air and decide what i was going to do.
my sad little body limped down the hall to reach the elevator so i could go outside, and though the stares had gone away, i became very aware that i had acted like a crazy person in the middle of the simon wiesenthal offices. panic left me as embarrassment took over. when i asked my boss how to explain to the others who were asking what had gone on, she simply told me to say that i was having a bad day. what? how can i tell these kindly older docents, who have lived through the freaking holocaust, that i'm having a bad day?!? no doubt it would take the biggest balls in history to compare my meager snarl to their lives.
and in swoops veronica to our story. before i went back to work i stopped across the street to get a soda and smoke a couple of cigarettes in an effort to calm down and let my face change back to its original color. whipping out my phone, i let derek know that i've finally arrived safely at my destination and haven't yet been burned at the stake for not being able to adapt to the traffic. as i hang up, i decide to call vee for a pep talk so that i can have the nerve to walk back into work as if nothing had happened. i tell her everything that's gone on that morning, down to the detail about being instructed to say that i was having a bad day.
"well, of course that's what you should tell them. if anyone asks, just brush it off and say you're having a bad day. it sounds like your boss gave you the right advice."
"but how can i do that? these people have lived through one of the worst events in history. for fuck's sake, who cares if i just moved here from oklahoma and i'm having a bad day?"
"just tell them you're not adjusted to the traffic here yet."
"veronica, they survived the fucking holocaust!"
"oh, holocaust schmolocaust. trust me, they'll understand. now suck it up and get your ass to work, or they will fire you, okay? hang up the phone and get in there."
still in shock, i did what i was told. after one more big breath and exhale, i strolled into the museum, once again going through the metal detectors and making my way towards the staff area. i found my jacket already laid out for me next to the time clock. a few of the people having coffee eyed me to see what i was going to do next, as the tale of my amazing breakdown had obviously been circulated with gusto amongst the staff that day. quite calmly, i clocked in and put on the jacket while trying not to look directly at anyone in the room.
a few of the staff members asked if i was okay. they gave me little pats on the shoulder and told me i looked much better. i just kept responding that i was having a bad day and thanked them for asking me about it. the lady who had earlier ushered me out to speak to me boss approached me slowly and put me in a heartfelt embrace.
"honey, are you feeling better now? we were worried about you in here."
"yes, thank you for asking. i'm having a really bad day. i'm very sorry to say that to someone like you, but i just don't know how else to put it."
"do you mind if i ask what happened?"
"well, i just moved here from oklahoma, and i knew that the traffic here was bad, but i wasn't prepared for it to take me so long to get here. i spent almost three hours in the car and i even tried all the ways people told me about, but i guess i just freaked out with road rage."
"oh honey! i understand what you mean. what an awful day for you. i'm so sorry!"
she gave me another huge hug and stroked my head. at this point i was thrown off in a way i can't even begin to describe. unable to understand her immense sympathy for my pitiful little whining about what must have seemed like a rather boring plight to most of the people in that city, i grabbed her hands and stared at her for a few seconds as she released me.
"wait a minute. how can you say that? i'm just having a hard time getting used to traffic here, and i'm acting like a big baby. you lived through the holocaust!"
"oh honey, the holocaust is over. traffic is every day."
yes, those exact words were spoken to me by a kind old lady and the whole world instantly changed. the utter absurdity of the statement made me laugh from the gut until i wheezed, at last feeling the release i needed. while i never had the nerve to tell her about veronica's offhand pep talk remark, i get the feeling she would have giggled in agreement. the fact that she looked so horrified at the thought of being stuck in traffic for three hours made me realize just how much we had in common. what she said made me realize the true meaning of things like dark humor and absolute relief. and though i did end up finding a job with a less horrendous commute shortly thereafter, it's those few moments that eventually continue to ring in my head whenever i'm having a bad day.
holocaust schmolocaust. traffic is every day.
thank you note:
we miss dizzy, but we will get through this okay. we appreciate the many condolences everyone has been giving to us and the other cats. don't worry too much. it gets a little better every day.
while living in los crapeles, i had a few different jobs. one of them involved the education wing of the simon wiesenthal center. working for an important humanitarian non-profit in beverly hills seemed like a good fit for me, so i jumped at the chance to work for the museum of tolerance. the people were terrific, the job was great, but it did have one little hitch i wasn't really expecting. to put things in a light you'll understand, let me tell you this. to get to my former job here, about 12 miles away, it took me about 20 minutes worth of driving. the drive to my school here was around 45 minutes, but it's around 3o miles from my house. in order to get to my fabulous job for swc/mot i had to go maybe 8 miles... which took well over an hour on an average day. i knew about la traffic before, but i wasn't really prepared for the traumas of it during rush hour on a daily basis. even getting off early on fridays didn't help the mess of it all. so, everyone was giving me hints on which route to take and where all the side streets converge and so on in an effort to help me deal with the gridlock situation. i left each morning trying every way i could think of to get there without having a nuclear style meltdown or completely fucking up the clutch in my car.
on one particular day, i was exploring yet another alternative route (there were about five different optimal ways to get there, which were dictated by time of day and so forth, down to the very minute i would leave the house) to get to the museum in time to have my car searched. let explain this. when entering the garage of the building, a guard would have you get out while they searched your car from bumper to bumper. when entering the building, you had to go through a metal detector. even the employees had to be scanned and searched every single day, as we were working in what could be considered a target for hate crimes and terrorists. no kidding! it was a badge of honor i wore quite well and have kept my parking tag for the place ever since as a sentimental artifact. yep, it's in my car right now.
in any case, on the day of the fatal breakdown i was driving along and took the worst route i ever could have picked. construction, gridlock, wrecks, i had it all. about an hour into the trudge, i called work and left a message that i was running late. in an effort to counteract the clusterfuck, i changed to another street. things only got worse. some of the lanes were closed and all the cars in front of me wanted to turn or weave or some other jacked up thing. when i called derek in a panic about how i was going to get fired via cellphone while sitting in my car, he told me to calm down and call my boss again. i reached her office and told her where i was and what was happening, at which point she gave me a hint as to yet another side street i could take to get to work. that would've been great advice if the street had been accessible to me from where i was at the time, but part of the freeway was cutting me off from where i needed to be. of course i didn't know this at the time, so when i tried to get there i was even more fucked than before.
my car was starting to have flashing lights on the dash from creeping along in first or second gear for such an extended period of time. in trying to navigate the alleged shortcuts to work, i had been stuck out on the road for over two hours. by this time i was in tears and losing my marbles after a short jaunt of about 6 miles. miraculously, i found my way to an amazingly clear arterial street, probably now clear because rush hour was over and everyone else had managed to make it to their destinations except for me. after a few more stoplights i made it into the garage and up to the entrance. before heading to my post, i ran to the security office in the museum for my work jacket and passed by the break room. it was filled with docents and speakers waiting for their next tours. another important point you should know? the people hovering near the coffeemaker were all former neo-nazis and holocaust survivors. if you can imagine, that's most of the people i worked with at this job. they took one look at my bright red face and asked if i was okay. one gentle old lady pulled me aside and told me to go see my new boss before i went to work.
my boss was in shock at the state of me. as she was shuffling me from the office entrance in the next building into the conference room, i broke down almost immediately. what a sight i must have been! my feet were dragging me the conference table while i sobbed hysterically and every single person in the vicinity poked their heads out of doorways and up above cubicles to see what the hell was going on to create this stir. i sat down in a huge chair in the middle of the glass conference room as people walked by to see the spectacle. in those moments i cried so hard i must have turned purple and my head started to teeter in woozy swirls because my whole spine felt like it was giving way. it was the kind of cry you have as a small child, the kind where you can barely even speak between heaving breaths. my boss told me to ignore them and tell her what had happened. as i recounted my day of traffic horror, she held my hand in sympathy and let me know that she'd gone through a similar situation more than once. she assured me that i was not fired on account of all the cars in the world showing up on my morning drive, but that i needed to go get some air and decide what i was going to do.
my sad little body limped down the hall to reach the elevator so i could go outside, and though the stares had gone away, i became very aware that i had acted like a crazy person in the middle of the simon wiesenthal offices. panic left me as embarrassment took over. when i asked my boss how to explain to the others who were asking what had gone on, she simply told me to say that i was having a bad day. what? how can i tell these kindly older docents, who have lived through the freaking holocaust, that i'm having a bad day?!? no doubt it would take the biggest balls in history to compare my meager snarl to their lives.
and in swoops veronica to our story. before i went back to work i stopped across the street to get a soda and smoke a couple of cigarettes in an effort to calm down and let my face change back to its original color. whipping out my phone, i let derek know that i've finally arrived safely at my destination and haven't yet been burned at the stake for not being able to adapt to the traffic. as i hang up, i decide to call vee for a pep talk so that i can have the nerve to walk back into work as if nothing had happened. i tell her everything that's gone on that morning, down to the detail about being instructed to say that i was having a bad day.
"well, of course that's what you should tell them. if anyone asks, just brush it off and say you're having a bad day. it sounds like your boss gave you the right advice."
"but how can i do that? these people have lived through one of the worst events in history. for fuck's sake, who cares if i just moved here from oklahoma and i'm having a bad day?"
"just tell them you're not adjusted to the traffic here yet."
"veronica, they survived the fucking holocaust!"
"oh, holocaust schmolocaust. trust me, they'll understand. now suck it up and get your ass to work, or they will fire you, okay? hang up the phone and get in there."
still in shock, i did what i was told. after one more big breath and exhale, i strolled into the museum, once again going through the metal detectors and making my way towards the staff area. i found my jacket already laid out for me next to the time clock. a few of the people having coffee eyed me to see what i was going to do next, as the tale of my amazing breakdown had obviously been circulated with gusto amongst the staff that day. quite calmly, i clocked in and put on the jacket while trying not to look directly at anyone in the room.
a few of the staff members asked if i was okay. they gave me little pats on the shoulder and told me i looked much better. i just kept responding that i was having a bad day and thanked them for asking me about it. the lady who had earlier ushered me out to speak to me boss approached me slowly and put me in a heartfelt embrace.
"honey, are you feeling better now? we were worried about you in here."
"yes, thank you for asking. i'm having a really bad day. i'm very sorry to say that to someone like you, but i just don't know how else to put it."
"do you mind if i ask what happened?"
"well, i just moved here from oklahoma, and i knew that the traffic here was bad, but i wasn't prepared for it to take me so long to get here. i spent almost three hours in the car and i even tried all the ways people told me about, but i guess i just freaked out with road rage."
"oh honey! i understand what you mean. what an awful day for you. i'm so sorry!"
she gave me another huge hug and stroked my head. at this point i was thrown off in a way i can't even begin to describe. unable to understand her immense sympathy for my pitiful little whining about what must have seemed like a rather boring plight to most of the people in that city, i grabbed her hands and stared at her for a few seconds as she released me.
"wait a minute. how can you say that? i'm just having a hard time getting used to traffic here, and i'm acting like a big baby. you lived through the holocaust!"
"oh honey, the holocaust is over. traffic is every day."
yes, those exact words were spoken to me by a kind old lady and the whole world instantly changed. the utter absurdity of the statement made me laugh from the gut until i wheezed, at last feeling the release i needed. while i never had the nerve to tell her about veronica's offhand pep talk remark, i get the feeling she would have giggled in agreement. the fact that she looked so horrified at the thought of being stuck in traffic for three hours made me realize just how much we had in common. what she said made me realize the true meaning of things like dark humor and absolute relief. and though i did end up finding a job with a less horrendous commute shortly thereafter, it's those few moments that eventually continue to ring in my head whenever i'm having a bad day.
holocaust schmolocaust. traffic is every day.
thank you note:
we miss dizzy, but we will get through this okay. we appreciate the many condolences everyone has been giving to us and the other cats. don't worry too much. it gets a little better every day.
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