Really? In a Bubble? Okay.

Got this from Spin Doc.

Boo Hiss Stoopid Day

The header says it all. In the interest of full disclosure, I woke up cranky. I don't know why. And before anyone asks, not that anyone I know would be tacky enough to ask that, but no, it has nothing to do with monthly cycles. It's just a general not-good, bad sort of cranky. That happens sometimes on account of I am human.

I had some problems with the shared drive on my network this morning. When I called tech support, I got one of those I-Know-Computers-And-You-Don't-And-Are-Therefore-Useless, supercilious, condescending jerk tech types. I hate when the tech guys are like that. I'm already feeling a bit helpless and frustrated and then they come in with their nose all up in the air and crinkly like they're smelling something unpleasant. Big freakin' meanies. But he did fix my drive and restore my files. That should make me considerably more cheerful, don't you think? Well, it doesn't. 'Cause I'm cranky.

I miss my tech person from when I worked at the beauty supply distributor. Well, not 100% miss him, because we actually are quite good friends and still keep in touch on a weekly basis. And he did give me a hard time when I made a stupid O.E. But he didn't have a superiority complex because he knew more about computers than me. He has a superiority complex for other reasons. Kidding. Actually, he's a wonderful person and I tease only because I love.

It's been really busy at work lately and I'm a little overwhelmed. Our new person started on Monday, but the poor woman has had to divide her time between her old job in another department (same office, though) and this one all week. There is nothing fun about that. She's so stressed out that I feel kind of guilty for complaining about how I'm stressed out. Yet still I crank.

It's a shame I'm not big on lots of booze, 'cause I could really go for a Texas sized magarita right now. My friend Yalayla, who's all that and a bag of chips and salsa, likes to call me when she's really stressed out and have a virtual margarita. All we do is pretend we're drinking and then say outrageously silly and ridiculous things and then laugh and laugh and laugh as if what we were saying was actually funny, even though it is, in fact, profoundly unfunny. Good times. You might have had to actually be there.

I guess I should end this brief blogging break (hey, that's a really good tongue twister--say it three times fast!!) and return to my regular work schedule.

Gotta say, I'm really cranky about that.

I Am a Bad Person

...but I'm sorry, I have to say it. Dan Radcliffe, whom I believe to be very talented and expect will go very far in his career, looks like K.D. Lang in this photo.

I know I'm wrong to criticize, but c'mon. For reals.

I'm going to hell.

The Child is Back

He's only been here a half hour. So far he has:

1. "Crashed" his airplane into my filing cabinets resulting in a resounding and repetitive metallic thud.

2. Played bunny-hop with the step-ladder.

3. Played with the files on the table themselves until his mother made him stop.

4. Followed me around persistently asking "what are you doing?" over and over despite my giving him an answer every single time.

He's currently playing "watch this" as he creates new and imaginative ways to crash his airplane and ultimately kill his dinosaur pilot.

Honestly, if I weren't at work right now trying to get work done, I would be rather charmed. He's an adorable little guy. But I'm not in admire the cute kid mode. I'm in work mode. Arrgghh! I need to lighten up, don't I?

I Am Dua Khalil

[In April,] seventeen year old Dua Khalil was pulled into a crowd of young men, some of them (the instigators) family, who then kicked and stoned her to death. This is an example of the breath-taking oxymoron “honor killing”, in which a family member (almost always female) is murdered for some religious or ethical transgression. Dua Khalil, who was of the Yazidi faith, had been seen in the company of a Sunni Muslim, and possibly suspected of having married him or converted. That she was torturously murdered for this is not, in fact, a particularly uncommon story. But now you can watch the action up close on CNN. Because as the girl was on the ground trying to get up, her face nothing but red, the few in the group of more than twenty men who were not busy kicking her and hurling stones at her were filming the event with their camera-phones.

- Joss Whedon, on Whedonesque.com

Lexigeek, the fine graphic artist of Black Market Beagles, has created a lovely shirt, which is now available for only $5 above cost (price dependent upon style). That $5 will be donated directly to Equality Now. But if you're broke, he'll also sell them at cost. The point is to wear the shirt and start a dialogue. Get yours here.

Random Thoughts

I'm at my part-time box office job right now. Some days it's really busy, and I'm juggling multiple phone calls and walk-in reservations. Today isn't one of those days. Other than the rehearsal going on upstairs, I haven't seen a single person; and in the two hours I've been here, I had one sale and one cancellation. I'm bad--whenever a season ticket holder calls to cancel a sale, I always return the tickets to their season ticket pool, even though we technically need at least 24 hours notice in order to do that. Now, I won't return the tickets if they call right before the show or if they're no-shows and call after the fact, because c'mon. But if they make an effort? Well, they've already paid a lot of money for season tickets and I want them to like us so much that they renew for next season. I think flexibility is part of that.

Since it's so dull, I've been alternating between surfing the net and reading the book I brought with me. A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to Pottercast (a podcast by the folks at The Leaky Cauldron) and they did a segment on this fan-fiction author who wrote her own version of Book 7. Problem is someone on the net has claimed the fiction in question is a leaked copy of JKR's actual book and has been charging people to download it. So the author immediately went on the defensive, contacting all the fan sites and legal representatives of JKR to let them know that she wasn't claiming that at all, and furthermore her fiction is available free of charge from fan-fiction alley (or something like that). It's crazy-the author has no idea who's doing it or where that money is going.

Anyway, the interview got me curious so I found the author's fan-fic online and skimmed it. If I really believed it was JKR's last book in the series, I would be mightily disappointed. The author is a decent writer, so I'm not slamming her personally. It just didn't feel right, which I'm sure, has everything to do with it-wasn't-JKR. Honestly, it was just okay, not great or even what I'd call good, but I imagine some people might like it. Here's my problem with a lot of the HP fan-fic, including this one. Harry Potter is not a Harlequin romance novel. The romance between Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione and Giant Squid/anyone is not the centerpiece of this series. I really and profoundly do not want to read sex scenes in Harry Potter. Doesn't belong there. I get annoyed by angsty fiction in general, so maybe I'm not the most unbiased critic around. I also didn't like the resolution of the story and how Harry ultimately defeats Lord Voldie-thingie, which I believe defeats the general love theme JKR seems to be going with. I won't spoil it for anyone who has a great love for fan-fiction and wants to immediately go find and read it. I also won't link the book, but if you're interested, it's called "The Seventh Horcrux" and it's by Melinda something or other. Just google it-you'll find it. Again, she's a decent writer and, as she put it herself, clearly enjoyed "playing in JKR's sandbox." At the least it was a good exercise. She's a decent enough writer, though, that I'd hope she spends more time writing her own stuff.

And why do I continue to read fan-fiction when I'm so picky? I am inconsistent and make no sense.

I have a meeting for the Juarez show today. It's a potluck meeting and I was supposed to make something but found myself out of time. So I am bringing a selection of salads from Jason's Deli. I heart Jason's Deli. It's my lunch destination of choice. Well, aside from enjoying Greek food from a sun drenched balcony in Mykonos. But if you're asking me to be realistic, then I pick Jason's.

Yay! Another sale. Now we're hopping.

Okay, I'm done wasting time here on Blogger. If you've read this entire post, I sincerely apologize and hope you'll be back for when I actually have something interesting to say.

Waiting..

I'm at home right now, right smack dab in the middle of the 8:00 a.m. to 12:00 noon window Sears gave to come and fix our washing machine. It's making a funny sound and since it's one of those super-duper expensive high-end duet washers, it should only be making the lovely quiet sounds associated with high-efficiency laundering. Stupid machine. I hate waiting. I'm really bad at it.

I took some work home with me last night in anticipation of the waiting, but amazingly it doesn't take me as long to do my work at home minus interruptions as it does at work. I think that's an excellent argument for working from home. Although, I guess if I consistently worked at home, the interruptions would just follow me here. Anyway, since I finished my office homework, I decided to balance my checkbook. Done. Doesn't take long when you are poor and not buying much. Then I checked my email at home and work. Done. Then I logged onto my space and deleted the spam comment about how easy it truly is to increase the size of my manly parts. I don't have manly parts, but I'm actually sort of curious. It can't possibly work, so what does it do exactly? Is it like the mythical thigh cream that actually works? Does it just tingle?

So many mysteries. Life is good.

Pink Crosses-Scherehazade Project Submission

This is for the S-Project. The picture below was our assignment. As always, comments and critique welcome.



The girl seated herself on the ground cross-legged in front of the pink cross bearing Evangelina’s name. It was hot and sticky and she reflected, not for the first time, that it was probably a waste of time coming here; that Evangelina couldn’t possibly hear her from such a great distance. She liked to imagine that Evangelina was so loved and blessed and adored in heaven that she barely had time to direct her attention to the dusty spot where her body had been found, now marked by lines and rows of pink crosses.

The girl touched the wood, lightly tracing the ripples of cracked and peeling paint with her finger. “Mama,” she whispered. “I have good news.” The wind came from nowhere and blew her dark hair away from her face. It was so much like a caress that the girl had the sudden feeling that her mother was there, that she already knew the good news. Perhaps Evangalina wasn’t too far away after all.

The girl smiled. “You know, then. I’m leaving here. I got accepted to college in Colorado, in the US. On scholarship, mama! I don’t have to pay for anything-I just have to work hard.” The wind blew her hair again, and the girl laughed in delight. “You are happy for me, aren’t you, mama?”

She stayed there till the sun began to set, its pink and orange hues contrasting strangely with the pink crosses before her. At last, she stood up and brushed the dirt off of her pants. “I will miss you, mama, but you aren’t really here anyway are you? I want you know that I will come back home someday. But first I’m going to learn everything I can. When I come back I will be a woman, not a girl, and I will know how to begin to change things here. I promise you, I will always remember.”

The wind blew gently around the memorial site, swirling dust particles and leaves into circles, and girl smiled. “I love you, too, Mama.”

Not Friday Yet?!

So far every morning this week, after waking up and moseying my way into the kitchen for breakfast, it has suddenly dawned on me, "Today is not Friday. Why does it feel like a Friday?" It truly has every morning. I wake up with that gleeful feeling that I'm about to get out of having to do something I don't want to do, which is the only way I can describe how Fridays feel to me. And then I stop and realize--no, it's Monday. Or Tuesday. Or in today's case, Wednesday. I still have a today and a Thursday before I get to Friday. It's very odd. I've thoroughly overanalyzed it and decided that it feels like Friday because I know I don't have to rehearse or run the show again. You know--that show. I feel all free and unencumbered. It's a very pleasant feeling. I highly recommend it.

Seen and Not Heard I Wish

I like children. The sight of an adorable little child won't melt me into a pile of sticky oozy sweet goo (unless the child is my niece, but I'll spare you and not go there), but I like children. Having said that, I will now add (and I'm CAPS-locking because I feel that strongly about it) CHILDREN DON'T BELONG IN AN OFFICE ENVIRONMENT. I'm not talking about wonderful programs like Bring-Your-Child-to-Work day. Usually, there is a planned agenda for them, which will, hopefully, keep them interested and occupied. I'm talking about the practice of bringing small children, aged 4, to work and somehow expecting them to miraculously behave. It won't happen. Offices are dull places for children. There's nothing to do, no games to play, no other kids to play with, no Sesame Street to watch, and when you're that young you have the attention span of--well of a 4-year-old.

By now, it should be rather apparent that I'm speaking of a specific person who occasionally brings her son to work. I genuinely sympathize with her situation. She's a work-study graduate student, and since school is out for the semester, she doesn't get the free child care. It's a difficult situation compounded by the fact that she's a single mother on a very small income trying to make life better for her and her child. It's difficult and I do honestly appreciate that. But her kid's been driving me freaking nuts today. He's in everything, some of it rather dangerous (e.g. using the step-ladder to climb up an office chair and then spin himself madly around till he falls off said chair narrowly missing the edge of the conference table). He cries everytime she tells him not to touch something and the resultant enforced disciplinary quiet-time is quiet for NO ONE.

My head really hurts.

My Life, How I've Missed You!

I am so very sleepy this morning. I had an extremely difficult time getting out of bed and the only reason I finally did is because I had a big yellow dog staring intently at me, trying to telepathically impart the message that he was starving and also needed to pee.

So the show is over and I’m thrilled beyond measure. Actors were all talented-it was a good show in the end, but I’m truly and genuinely delighted to move on to the next thing. I have a real sense of ownership for the Juarez show and for Momentum and that makes a huge difference. We’re meeting tonight for a writer’s meeting and I think I might actually go over to S’s early for gossip and fun. Her place is very peaceful and welcoming, so it’s a good place to unwind.

And can I say how glad I am that NBC has Heroes available to watch on the Internet? I’ve become ridiculously addicted to that show and, although to be honest, I would choose spending time with my friends over watching television, I’m still glad I have a way of watching it online. Other than Tivo or DVR or whatever. Because I don’t have those things on account of how I still barely know how to work my DVD player, much less a DVR.

It’s interesting-ordinarily after a show, I’m all lost like “what do I do with this free time?” But right now I’m thinking of many things to do. For example, I have had the same three movies from Netflix sitting on my desk for about five weeks. I think I will watch them (and then possibly cancel Netflix owing to how long it takes me lately to watch what I’m sent). And then I want to reread the Harry Potter books before Book 7 comes out. And then I have a nice list of books I should read I’ve collected from S and Faithie. And then Friday night, I’m hanging with my friends. I’m very excited.

Oh, my life, how I’ve missed you.

Got Tagged

Chauceriangirl tagged me. I did one of these not too long ago, but it was six things instead of seven. So, here are 7 things you probably don't know about me unless you answer to the name Chauceriangirl, in which case you know all.

1. Lots of people will tell you they love the smell of freshly-cut grass, cookies baking, etc. And I do love those smells, but I also love the smell of gasoline and cigars (not together actually). They're both strong sense memories for me. When I was in high school my boyfriend drove a Honda Interceptor motorcycle--we used to go all over the city and up into the canyons on that bike on a weekly basis. I loved the feeling of sitting on the back, my arms wrapped around him tightly and the wind whipping through my hair (yep, no helmet, I was stupid) probably about as much as my mother hated the idea of me on the back of a 16-year old boy's motorbike. The cigars just remind me of my grandfather. He smoked swisher sweets and they smelled so fragrant before he lit them up. Lit up, though, they smelt rank. Even so, I can always tell by the smell if someone is smoking a swisher sweet and it always makes me think of him.

2. If I had a million dollars, I truly would not buy an expensive and fancy car. I genuinely can't fathom spending large sums of money on something which will depreciate the moment I drive it off the lot. On the other hand, I totally would blow a wad on world travel.

3. I talk a big game about being assertive and taking care of business, but when push comes to shove, I avoid conflict like nobody's beeswax. Unless I'm good and truly angry, in which case I wind up saying things for which I'm apologizing an hour later. I could probably use an assertiveness training or something.

4. Large groups of people freak me out. The larger the group, the more nervous I get.

5. I am currently working on a planning committee for a conference for kids aging out of foster care. I've just found out that I'm required to stay in the dorms-excuse me, RESIDENCE HALLS, as the university contact. I've complained loudly about that, but the truth is that I'm sort of looking forward to it. I never did the dorm thing in college and I feel like I'll be making up for something I lost. The best part is that it's only for 2 days, and I have a feeling the first day will be enough to make me realize how fortunate I was never to have had the full dorm experience.

6. I once had a doctor appointment, which wound up being cancelled by the doctor. Instead of going into work like I should have, I got a pedicure. Only then I felt bad about it, so I confessed to my boss. She just laughed at me.

7. I'm insanely jealous of the people who work for the Google boys, not because of the great pay, or the free haircuts, or the gourmet meals, but because they get to bring their pets to work with them. I would totally bring my dogs to work with me if I could get away with it.

There. There's seven things you may not have known.

That was hard.

I'm Being Eaten By a Boa Constrictor

That's a poem by Shel Silverstein. It's pretty funny in a profoundly creepy not-funny way, where the narrator describes being eaten by a boa constrictor from his feet all the way to his--. And then silence. Good times.

The show I'm stage managing opens tonight. Last night's rehearsal was part insane chaos of the I want to weep variety, and part inspired lunacy. This has been a tough show for all concerned, but usually the outcome is worth the headaches and trauma associated with putting it all together. We rehearsed last night until 1:30 a.m. I was overjoyed to finally leave, but still encouraged by how put-together the show seemed in comparison with the rehearsal we had just two nights ago. This really is a wonderful cast and they play well together onstage. I always love watching shows where the actors aren't so much "look-at-me-look-at-me." Actors can be that way sometimes. You know when you get the impression they aren't listening to what the other characters are saying so much as just waiting for their next cue line. This cast listens to each other. It's such a joy to see how scenes change from one performance to the next based on how each actor is approaching a particular moment. That's the part of theatre I think is just freaking fun. Everything in the world should be that cool.

And having said all that, I will be so glad when this show is done. Of course, that just means on to the next one, but I do have a month in between where I get to experience this crazy little phenom called spare time. I'm looking forward to exploring the mysteries of that particular concept. I see books and movies in my future. So exciting.