nobody knows where they might end up...

GREY'S ANATOMY IS BAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Skip this post if you don't care/don't want spoilers about the 2-hour premiere which was last Thursday. Haha.

Episode 501:

I knew that the opening bit was a dream but I still started crying, preemptively, because honestly? The sight of Derek Shepherd prone on an operating table covered in blood with the flatline sound effect was too much for me to handle by myself. I do think that Callie/Hawn would be a cool storyline. I'm interested to see what ACTUALLY goes down. 

I'm so glad that Nurse Rose is transferring to pediatrics. I understand where she's coming from, as the jilted I-used-you-to-get-over-my-ex-but-not-really girlfriend... but no one should stand between MerDer. Ever. Get out.

The Chief has gone berserk. What the hell.

Lexie/George. I am for it. Even if it's not George's perfect match... they'd be good for each other. George needs someone who fits him. Lexie needs to come into her own. And jeez if I totally haven't been in her shoes once or twice (re: when she is helping him study and smells him as he moves past her? okay...) so I'm for it. Even if it's temporary. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Shonda doesn't want George to be with ANYONE EVER because he's probably the perfect man. In some ways. But yeah. GO Lexie GO.

Cristina. My favorite. I love her. I'm so glad that she's got herself back on some kind of track here... and HELLO ARMY MAN. He might be Practically Perfect in Every Way, especially his lack of sense of pain; Cristina is smitten. That kiss was fierce. He better be back for more.

Bernadette Peters was brilliant in one of the guest spots. Duh.

Also... Alex Karev? Grow the fuck up a little. Everyone else has. THANKS.

[Fin.]

poem.

I have my arms full of dreams

too many to carry,

too many to keep.

That's not to say I'm dropping them as I go

but rather

trying to put them in place

like hanging pictures

or strings of colored lights

or suncatchers

or windchimes

or flowers.

I try to climb the stairs with them

but

like moving the laundry from the basement

up

some of the littler ones drop to the floor

like socks

and I have to go back and pick them up again later.

I try to fill my room with them

on the wall

in the drawers

on the shelves

by the window

under the bed

on the desk.

Sometimes they don't stick

like posters with cheap tape that won't stay

or the shelves are too heavy

or the drawers won't shut all the way

or they gather dust under the bed.

I try to put them in alphabetical order

but sometimes I forget the words

and the meanings get mixed up

and I'm not sure how to classify

or quantify

or qualify

or stupefy

or exemplify

them all at once with the same kind of system.

Sometimes they jump out the window

or burrow through the floorboards

or slip under the door and the rug

and I just never see them again.

But it doesn't really bother me, then,

because I forget which ones they were

once they're gone.

They're usually not the important ones anyway.

The important ones stay put.

No matter how hard you try

to move

and mold

and mangle

and mush

they just don't budge

and you're stuck

and you have to decorate around them on holidays

and you have to put a sheet over them when guests come over

so they don't ask too many questions

and sometimes they snore

and people tell you that you snore

and you tell them you don't, 

it's just

you dream that way

you can't help it.

But no one seems to understand.

Kids talk about monsters in the closet

under the bed

behind the walls.

I think

that when you grow up

(or try to)

they're not really  monsters

or boogeymen

or shadows

they're dreams

the ones that stay

and haunt you

and hope for fruition

and touch your hand when you're lonely

or sad

and remind you to brush your teeth before bed

and draw you into a deep, dark sleep

when you're the most tired you've ever been

and remind you of yourself

and teach you not to worry

or judge

or fear

and just

to keep going

however you can

and someday they'll be real

and they won't have to hide in the closet anymore

and you won't have to pretend to ignore them

because they'll be real

and that's all they ever wanted for you

and you'll feel better

anyway

once they're real.

The important ones

someday

will be real

if only you try not to

cover them 

with a sheet

so much.

this is your life.

Blogging is difficult and time-consuming. Okay maybe not difficult, but it takes thought, care, and ingenuity to create, uphold, and promote a healthy blog. I'm not into all that work. So. That's fine. But this thing will definitely suffer once the school year really gets started, I'm sure. Eff.

Kay.

I'm back in Chicago. And I live in an apartment. And it's amazing. And I love living in it. And I'm still sort of shellshocked daily by the fact that I live in an apartment and I'm a real human being now as a result. Sort of. I am crestfallen with the realization that there will be no money on my school id card to swipe and buy food with on a regular basis... I will have to befriend underclassmen speedily to take care of my snacking and lunchtime needs. It's not worth it to walk all the way home and then back to campus. Not to mention I won't have time. But I'm going to have to figure something out and SOON if I'm going to stay fed this year. Like seriously. Unacceptable.

I am assistant directing "Intimate Apparel" by Lynn Nottage on the mainstage. Under Jonathan. I love Jonathan. He's terrifying and wonderful. And I am going to learn so much by being on the other side of the table for once in the rehearsal hall. It's exciting. 

Auditions are next week Wednesday and the following Tuesday, I think. Eff. Got to memorize the monologue before I can audition. Eff.

In reading a shitton of plays before school starts... I have found that I really like Edward Albee. And also I like Bertolt Brecht a little more than I used to, which initially wasn't very much at all, so that's good.

They pushed back the date of the Harry Potter movie. WHAT.

Bernie Mac died. Really sad. Isaac Hayes died. Also very sad. Morgan Freeman ALMOST died and is divorcing his wife. Holy crap.

I still like "Legally Blonde" the musical. It makes me want to hit myself. But I love it.

I miss the summer things from this year: Jekyll & Hyde, Too Many Sopranos, hanging out with Molly, sitting on Emily, playing Guitar Hero, directing little kids, etc. It was actually a really really really really excellent summer. Thanks everyone who was there. :)

I hope it turns out to be a really really really excellent school year. :\

money money money, must be funny... in a rich man's world...

The ABBA song says it all. Look up the lyrics. I hate money so much. Rather, I hate everything I can't do without it. Sigh. Onward and downwards to paying rent out my ass for the next year and trying to make ends meet. Not encouraging. But it's the truth. It's the present. Here and now. Onwards.

That being said, I totally went to Half Price today. :x

• The Once and Future King by T.H. White
• Seven Plays by Sam Shepard
• The Good Woman of Setzuan by Bertolt Brecht
• Stardust (the comic book version) by Neil Gaiman and drawn by Charles Vess

Ughhhhh. What is it about bookstores. Why do I feel so friggin compulsive when I'm in them? And especially when they're used books. ESPECIALLY USED AND VINTAGE BOOKS. I'm horribly obsessive about them. It's a problem. Basically.

Oh, I'm seeing Idina Menzel at Potowatomi  Bingo & Casino on Monday night. Jesus. What.

I'm off to see "The Dark Knight". Again. For the third time. Deal with that.

there's nothin' like a dame.

I went to Half Price Books today. With Dad. I left with copies of:

• Arcadia, by Tom Stoppard (a brand new, clean, unmarked, fresh copy; better than the one I've got, anyway...)
• The Shape of Things, by Neil LaBute
• Wonderful Tennessee, by Brian Friel 
• Saint Joan, by George Bernard Shaw
• The Rivals, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
• the libretto to Gypsy, by Arthur Laurents, music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim (oh yes, friends... oh yes.)
• also..... Exit, Pursued By A Bear, by Louise McConnell (it's like, a dictionary of stuff in Shakespeare: staging notes, characters, concepts, ideas, phrases, etc.)

Seriously, I love Half Price Books so much. It wins at everything except getting me copies of Neil Gaiman's newer stuff. I didn't even see the Sandman comics till on my way out the door, dammit... I need to read Neverwhere, though, it's next on my list.

List? I shouldn't have a list. I have other stuff to do. Like, get ready to be a teacher and director to kids at a local college's summer outreach academy program. Eff. First up is a musical theatre revue, followed by Alice in Wonderland (grades 3-6) and then The Hobbit (grades 7-12).

I have also obtained the cast recordings of South Pacific (the 2008 revival; it's gorgeous, what the hell) and In The Heights (it has so much ENERGY, I LOVE IT) and Legally Blonde (oh my god, oh my god you guys, I can't believe I let myself start listening to it, it's ridiculous but I can't HELP it...) and the new Coldplay album (Viva La Vida, or Death And All His Friends) is amazing, of course, as is the new Jason Mraz cd (We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things). I can't flipping wait till they release the Gypsy recording with Patti LuPone. August, my friends. It will be a glorious day. The woman is a-may-zing.

Maybe I'll go organize books and things I'm going to need when I move out. Or do something likewise semi-productive. Thoughts? Yeah, that's.... OH. My green tea is ready. Peace.

oh. yeah.

So... it's not that I forgot about this... it's that I forgot to keep using it. I was busy. Sue me. (Don't sue me.) Whatever. Anyway! With a crazy summer currently underway... I hope to continue using this as an outlet for social commentary, movie and media response, and now poetry. Some dear friends of mine have started a determined movement of sharing poetry amongst one another and being very strong and open and such. So. I think. Here is where a few poems will surface now and again. Possibly. Maybe, we'll see. Who reads this, anyway? Post a comment if you're living.

Movies I've seen: Made of Honor, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. (reviews pending)

Movies I am DYING to see: The Dark Knight, Mamma Mia.

Jobs held: Teavana (third summer in a row; last day will be June 25), Jilly and George (one day; they politely let me go, saying I couldn't work enough hours. Bummer.)

Jobs to be had: Carroll College Academy directing position (details pending; starts June 28)

Shows performed: "Too Many Sopranos" (opera by Edwin Penhorwood; played the angel Gabriel as a silent trouser role)

Shows to be performed: "Jekyll & Hyde" with Greendale Community Theatre (as an ensemble member: the newsgirl, Red Rat dancer, party guest.)

Apartment situation: SOLVED. Details pending. *happy dance*

Reading: still trying to finish "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand (not because it is boring or too long but because I have been so fuggin busy and it takes time to concentrate on. *guilt*)

Listening to: Jason Mraz's "We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things". Coldplay. Flight of the Conchords.

Guilty pleasures: Legally Blonde the Musical: The Search for Elle Woods. (OH MY GOD I can't even BELIEVE some of it...) Project Runway reruns. ANTM reruns. America's Best Dance Crew. Otherwise trashy tv programs aimed at my age group.

Visits to Chicago: One. Short but productive. And one planning for this week...

Visits from the Twin: One. Short but fun. Need to fix this number. *taps watch*

Progress on the novel: Uhm.... I got a handful of pages done the other day... hand-written. Haven't typed them up yet. Tomorrow, probably. Eek.

Paintings done: NONE. Gahh. I thought I would be painting like crazy this summer! ALAS. Soon. Maybe.

62nd Annual Tony Awards were tonight; congrats to South Pacific for sweeping stuff up, and to In The Heights for Best New Musical. And beyond deserving... Patti LuPone for "Gypsy". What a goddamn winner. That woman is a powerhouse and looked great and sounded great and deserves every inch of whatever ego she may have. For reals. (Oh, and... Dear Kelli O'Hara: your time will come. Teach me your career, please, kthx.)

Also. I'm totally sick. Last Thursday was Ben's birthday, so we went to Six Flags, and I thought, "Hey, I don't have to sing till Monday night! I can scream all I want to." So I did. And the next day of course I had no voice whatsoever. But I was abnormally sore, I thought, and by the end of the work day I thought I might have a fever, too. I did. The next day was spent in coughing, feverish, miserable agony. I wallowed in Jane Austen (I watched the new Sense and Sensibility adaptation and Mansfield Park) and Slings and Arrows with Mom once she got home. That night I kept waking up and feeling worse; at some point I did wind up vomiting, which I knew would only exacerbate my throat, but I didn't know what to do about it. I have been trying to stay hydrated and have been sleeping on and off all day. I have conquered the fever, I think, and most of the mucus. But my sinuses are weird now, and my throat still feels like it was attacked by drain-o or as if I'm in training to become a fire-breathing dragon. It is an absolutely terrifying feeling. I'm hoping that tomorrow will see me much improved. I definitely won't be singing at rehearsal tomorrow night. :\ Balls.

On that note.... peace!

uh, do you guys know... where... where it says what stop we're at?

So Elyse and I went and saw "Altar Boyz"'s penultimate show last night. I can't believe, first of all, that it's taken me THIS long to see it. But see it we did (for free) and both, horrified and fantastically amused, loved it. Elyse fell hard for Matthew's voice (they have a mutual friend, too) and I was lost in daydreams of Abraham. Didn't help that he left the theatre after the show looking all cleaned up and purdy with a Gap shopping bag and a guitar case slung across his back. Seriously. 

We thought we were going to leave "Altar Boyz" and go meet our friends at a different theatre, halfway up the Red Line, for a show one of our friends was playing for. After much ado about trying to get there properly (don't ask) we got there with minutes to spare only to find out the show was sold out and there had been a miscommunication with our friend's brother, who was supposed to get us tickets. Discouraged, upset, cold, tired and more, we trudged out of the theatre and back to the Red Line.

The night was not over yet.

We got on the Red Line, only to discover several stops later that someone near us in the car was about to... nope... in the process of vomiting. Hurriedly, we got up and moved to a new car. Sitting down, we found that there was not-yet-dry vom on the floor across from us, and a man was forcing his fingers into his female companion's mouth nearby. We got up and moved to a new car. No vom, no hand-feeding, but a stench of cotton candy. (As for all the vom, I blame the pope for changing St. Patrick's day, which I totally disagree with. It's most inauspicious to have done so, pope. You see all the bad things that happened?)

We retired to Elyse's dorm for a rousing viewing of "Muppet Treasure Island" and then went home from there, probably a bit later than we should have (but we were angry enough about all of the other mishaps that it didn't matter).

Now? We have rehearsal. At 10. For God only knows how long. And tonight? Gaelic Storm. I can only pray the day gets better.

you may travel far but love's never lost...

The guppy is dead. I flushed it. I think. I hope it went down, and didn't like... swim back up the pipe or anything. Long live the tiger shark. Fuck all of this goofy, immature, non-communicative bullshit. I am better than that. Peace.

I believe in Harvey Dent. Do you? 

Spring break hasn't been very springy... nor too much of a break... but I'm hoping that its positive effects will be longer-lasting than I expect them to be.

My brother (a very talented artist of sorts) and I may or may not be in talks to collaborate on a graphic novel of sorts. We may or may not be discussing plot points and character sketches. Do not be fooled; nothing is settled upon yet.

I may or may not also be discreetly looking away as THoR piddles about and may or may not be working on other exciting new novels right now when I should be editing the first. I may or may not have two or more ideas in the works already. Oops?

I bought a new journal; my Harlequin (the second volume of my official Journals) is almost full. I have been journaling since I was very young, but two years ago a friend bought me a very nice expensive leatherbound journal and ordered me to record my eloquence in its proper place. That volume was called Eloquence as a result. When it filled, I purchased the Harlequin, a larger, patchworked colored-leather version of the first. Now it is almost full, and I have my third volume which remains to be christened. It is soft suede-leather, robin's egg blue, with lovely etchings in it. I'm smitten with it already; a bad/good omen. I must finish Harlequin, though, before the next one is sworn in, as it were. Someday these journals will be published. They are sometimes vague, sometimes poetic, sometimes straightforward, sometimes deeply personal. They span all the gaps. But I love them. They are my sanity. They are my prayer books. My reassurances.

I need to find jobs for the summer. I need to make money. I need to get cast in things that will pay. I need to press on. I need to publish. I need to sleep. I need to be effortless. I need to be invincible. Someday, maybe I will be. For now, I really just need to sleep. Eff.

run, rabbit, run...

Lots of Maroon 5, Kanye, Wolfmother, Psapp, Cake, The Killers, Fall Out Boy, and Sara Bareilles (sometimes angry but all very upbeat power songs) followed by the entirety of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" (duh) has me in an utterly calm meditative state, and has put me out of mind of a long, overbearing, personally difficult day. I am fine, things will be fine, and tomorrow I will have the energy to make it all happen. I think. I hope.

Drawing helps too. Meghan made me draw red apples without using red at all. I liked that. They look pretty good too.

Part of me wants to write. Part of me is too tired to get involved on focusing on something like that. Part of me wants to go back to the pirates and make some progress while I've got time. Part of me wants to work the new adventure fairy tale I'm writing. Part of me knows I have a dramaturgical paper due Thursday on "The Glass Menagerie". Most of me has no desire to work on the last one. Decision? No writing. More mindless relaxation. At least for now.

There are a few cookies left in the kitchen. It's snowing like a mofo and I hate it. A lot. So much. 

I am such a goddamn Pisces.

Maybe I should read for a while. But that requires focus, too. Less than if I'm writing, but more than if I'm pushing paint or smearing charcoal. Painting sounds good except for the setup and cleanup. Too time consuming. Not easy enough. Three minutes left on Pink Floyd. Maybe by then I'll want to do something else. Watch a movie? Mmnhh. Focus. Mindlessness is ideal. 

Solution? Lie on the floor until Meghan makes me get up again. Peace.

I'll never look at salad dressing the same way again.

"Guys and Dolls" rehearsals have begun, and things are picking up speed. I love this show, I love the cast, I love the director... it's going to be ridiculous. And excellent. Ridixcellent. Soon, though I don't know how soon exactly, it will be spring again. Soon, unfortunately, is not soon enough, and it's still retardedly cold almost all the time, and life in the outside world is generally gray and dismal.

Due to an outside project in our painting class, I continually find myself saying "I need to go work on my paintings," in an increasingly disgruntled, emotional manner. I am really happy with the class and with what I'm leaning, I just don't have time for outside projects like this. :\ And I am now an emo kid because of it (thanks, Kelly).

Housing for next year = ISSUES UP THE WAZOO. I'm interested in getting an apartment with some friends but don't have the budget yet (it would be really hard, at least). On-campus housing deposits are due TODAY at four and I haven't filled my contract out, I don't have the deposit, and I don't have any potential roommates for on-campus living. So.... I'm screwed, right? Trying to figure this out is awful. And scary. And frustrating. 

Eff.

P.S.

P.S. HAPPY MARDI GRAS! Eat something fatty beyond your normal daily range of fat-consumption, okay?

i'm tired of monkeyin' around... oh, ooh bee doo!

So a week ago today I got a call from my mom, saying that she had been informed that her father was killed in a car accident in Arkansas, where he lived. That night I took the train back to Milwaukee and the next day my family and I flew Milwaukee to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Little Rock (fuggin last minute flight availabilities) and spent the next few days dealing with the aftermath of the unexpected death. At first, things were very stressful and awkward, but soon the culture shock wore away. Much of that side of my family (my mom's siblings and cousins and aunts) are very unknown to me due to the distance and cultural differences. They're very different from what I'm used to... but not at all unwelcoming. It was really nice to see people I didn't know before, to be welcomed by them, to experience that part of the family tree. It was likewise nice to indulge in a number of cherry limeades from Sonic (re: the holy mother of all fast food beverages). Then on Sunday we flew Little Rock to Memphis, Memphis to Milwaukee, I hopped an Amtrak to Chicago, and Hilary and Meghan picked me up at the station with Hil's car (re: literally, planes, trains, and automobiles in that order).

Otherwise, I played a lot of Guitar Hero and Rock Band with my cousins Nate (12), Chance (10), Ashlee (15), and Tommy (11). I watched "Little Miss Sunshine" for the first time (thumbs up!!). I watched "Wild Hogs" (what the hell were they thinking?). I watched "A Knight's Tale" with Ashlee in remembrance of Heath Ledger. I bought "Glengarry Glen Ross" (KEVIN SPACEY I AM HORRIBLY IN LOVE WITH) and can't freaking wait to watch that shit. I read Persuasion by Jane Austen, Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and memorized my lines in Long Day's Journey Into Night for class. I bought The Teahouse Fire by Ellis Avery (it looks fantastic) and The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory (because EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME). I have no idea when I'm actually going to read these... Next priority is The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen by Syrie James because Mom got it for me for Christmas and I haven't read it yet (guilty). 

I watched "Atonement" for the second time last night with some friends. The first time I watched it I absolutely hated it and for some reason last night I rather loved it. What the hell. I get really confused when that happens. But whatever. 

So yeah. I've been playing catch up with classwork and stuff yesterday and today. And the weather keeps changing violently and has left me and Meghan utterly ill in its wake; fevery, achey, dizzy, sore throat, etc. etc. and so on and so forth. Sigh. Fighting it is too much work. Ballet was fun this morning. I feel competent about it.

My Disney mix on my iPod is growing ever larger. This weekend I snatched "Under The Sea," "Les Poissons," "Bare Necessities," and "I Wanna Be Like You" for the compilation. I already have "Aladdin," "The Hunchback of Notre Dame," "Hercules," and "Enchanted" as well as a number of songs randomly pulled, three from "The Little Mermaid," two from "Mulan," and one from "Tarzan." It will, someday, be the longest playlist ever. And it will rock. So hardcore. My brother also shared the Tenacious D album, the Muse album and the Dragonforce albums with me. For the win.

Oh, and as far as my own writing is going... I wanted to work on my pirates some more, as I'm so friggin close to getting through the second draft it's not even funny... but instead, on the train back to Chicago, I threw open my laptop and began something new, something that's been itching at my hands for a few months now and has finally pushed through: a Georgian fairy tale. An Austen-esque heroine finds herself unwilling to grow up a proper young lady and seeks adventure and fantasy in other places than the dance floor, and she ultimately gets drawn into magic and mystery more strange than she ever dreamed of when her favorite fairy tales and myths begin to appear in her real life... or something like that. Her name is Eglantine. I'm disgustingly happy with that. I had originally thought it would be Victoria or Emily or Rebecca or something, but no. Eglantine. It's a kind of briar rose. Delightful.

RIP Heath Ledger (1979-2008)

When I was told around 3:45 (central time) today that Heath Ledger was dead, I didn't believe it. On inspecting the internet promptly thereafter, I found affirmations that it was true, but no details. In the last several hours more details have been released. The words 'drug overdose', 'sleeping pills', and 'possible suicide' are being tossed from headline to headline like tennis balls. It's taken a while to sink in. It still really hasn't, I guess. But I'm moreover just sort of stunned. It's shocking, yeah, it's... confusing... it's really strange. It feels like a hoax. It feels like a big joke. Publicity for "The Dark Knight" maybe. I don't know. I feel very weird about all this.

But I think, regardless, that it's extremely sad. Something was wrong with him, with his life, at this point in time, and no one knew enough about it to help. If it was an accidental overdose or a suicide, it doesn't matter. Everyone is shocked. Everyone is going, "What happened? We had no idea!" Which means something was not right and he either hid it from everyone or no one is admitting to knowing about the problem, whatever it was.

I guess I'm just very surprised. He was not one of the people in Hollywood I expected to drop off the map, especially now, especially with everything that's up in that neck of the woods right now. I'm very very surprised, and very very sad. I mean... what did he do this morning? Get up, maybe shower, maybe have a meal? Did he go for a walk? Did he run errands? Did he sit around his apartment? Did he sleep in late? Was he busy? Was he relaxing? What did he watch on TV? What did you do today, Heath, before you died this afternoon?

I really loved his work. All of it. I think he was a brilliant young actor, with so much goddamn potential to break more records and destroy more expectations as his career went on. I was positive he'd be one of those actors we look back on, my generation, when we're older, and go "OH, wasn't he great when he was younger! Oh, he's doing something new? How fantastic, let's go see it!" Now what will we say?

Some great people have died in the last few months. Michael Kidd. Jack Trahey. Robert Goulet. Luciano Pavarotti. Among others. Granted, great people die all the time. Normal people die all the time. Young people, old people, naturally, unnaturally. It's part of us. Obviously. I'm not disputing that. But it's surprising how sometimes they... well... surprise you with it. And it's sad how... well... sad it is.

I do miss you, Heath. We never met. Maybe we were never going to. But I was in a movie with you. And I loved your work. I'm surprised. And sad. And I hope whatever your problem was is fixed now.

Blur.

I thought I'd done everything I needed to do last night before going to bed.

I was wrong.

I woke up and my eyes were sticky and blurry. My contacts were still there. I got up and threw them out, intending to go back to bed, and instead stayed up and made oatmeal. It's freezing outside and it's snowing a little bit.

I'm meeting Mom downtown in a few hours. I'm excited; I miss her. And it's only been like a week or whatever since I was home, but already... I don't know. It'll be good to see her. And there's fun stuff on the Mag Mile. Maybe it will stop snowing.

J.J. Abrams at TED

Apparently, TED is this thing where amazing people come and extrapolate why the stuff they do is awesome on a level that everyone understands and feels they have access to.

I didn't watch Alias. I don't watch Lost. I haven't seen any of his movies. But this is really interesting. His talk is really cool and I love the way he describes mystery boxes in different films, movies, etc. It's true. And I'm making note because it'll be useful in my own work. Just another stitch in the fabric of whatever the art is. I dig it. Check this out.

Still cold.

The weather is awful. Freezy rain, snow, black ice, white ice, biting winds. Welcome to Chicago. Classes this week have given me hope for the semester. Mine are not too hard, but will all be really interesting in different ways. It's exciting stuff. Meghan and I had our first technique class in Ballet and it rocked. Completely. Practicum is underway, with the first show of the semester coming up on us very quickly. So, basically, aside from the awful, no-good wintry weather, things are pretty awesome.

Last night, there was a basketball game at which they gave away t-shirts. It was some Jesuit sponsored thing, so the shirts had a picture of a robed Jesuit playing basketball on it and read "Jesuit Jam 2008" across the bottom. We thought it was hilarious so we went into the game for free, got the shirts, and left. Bada bing. Free t-shirts are my life.

Today, after my Anth class I have work, and then after that I am going to the office hours of one of the most awesome history professors I've ever even heard of in my entire life. And I'm going to arrange to become a history minor. Get excited.

My textbooks that we ordered through Amazon last week are not here yet. My paint supplies that we ordered last week through Utrecht are finally here. Have to pick those up today. Awkward. I hate the postal system. Bastards.

Oh. Right.

Back to school. Sorta. Ish. It's hella cold here in Chicago on the frosty shores of Lake Michigan, so cold it gives me a headache when I come in from the outside, like my brain thinks it will be okay if it creates a vaccuum in my skull to protect itself from thawing. Or something. I hate the smell of exhaust on a cold winter's morning, and unfortunately I get lots of it walking to class. It's one of the worst smells in the entire world, I think. It hurts to breathe in, and sometimes if it's cold enough I feel like it goes all the way through my bones, hurting and... generally being noxious. :\

I feel good though, so far, about this semester. Things are going to be a little bit crazy but it's going to work out. It always does. And there's some fun stuff along the way. Ballet. Painting. (Both of these being the first classes I've ever had in either, despite my haphazard practice of them on my own time in past years.) Shows. Duh, shows. The roomies. All good things, so far.

My hair is getting really long.

Time to go nap. And then get up and go to the cave of indentured servitude to the fabric gods I mean, work. In the costume shop. Cause it's work study and I need the money. As always.

P.S. If you haven't heard any of his stand up material, I highly recommend Patton Oswalt. He is fantastic.

that's how you know...

So I dreamed that I was Giselle in "Enchanted". But not the movie. Just in like, existence.  I did have to sing and act out "That's How You Know" in Central Park... which was kind of awesome. The animals followed me. The colors were pretty. I looked good in that dress. I couldn't find Patrick Dempsey though.

Then something happened and later I became Brutus in Julius Caesar, but also in existence. I was still wearing my Giselle costume. Which wasn't surprising (my friends and I have this idea thing about Caesar being about bitchy girls instead of toga wearing politicians). But I found it difficult to switch from being obnoxious Giselle to being Brutus. Then Cassius (played in my dream by John Gielgud, sorry, Emily) took me to this hot spring nearby and this Cirque du Soleil type woman dressed half like a sea anemone half like a unicorn had fallen in and was drifting about the hot water on her back. Cassius drew a sword and went after her, and I watched as he tortured her, questioned her, and ultimately cut her horn off. I saw instantly it was fake, but the first thing I thought was how unjust it was to remove a unicorn's horn especially in this manner with no apparent motivations. A very Brutus thought. But then I saw it was fake and it mattered less. I think she drowned in the water. In any case, we left her and Cassius was wild and angry with the world and lectured me on Caesar's egotism.

Eventually I woke up. And now I'm still sick. It sucks. Last day in Milwaukee, y'all! Back to Chicago tomorrow!

Movie thoughts: "3:10 to Yuma"

I'm sure I don't need to link you to the imdb page for this, since it's so recent. But I finally got to see it  (since the dvd came out yesterday) and wanted to make a point to say how excellent I thought it was. Uh... spoilers ahead?

Russell Crowe, despite the cell phone incident of whatever-year-that-was, and despite any negative media connotations he carries, is an excellent actor with enormous presence and I love watching him in whatever film he does. As in "Master and Commander", he embodies dignity and badassery to the extreme, yet never seems predictable or tame. I love his speaking voice. 

Christian Bale continues to astound with his ability to grow and comfortably sport different variants of facial hair/haircuts while likewise shifting dialects between films as easily as a chameleon changes colors; while one is always aware of it being Bale behind the voice or costume, his versatility lies in making you believe that he is, in fact, whoever he's playing. Christian Bale is Bruce Wayne. Christian Bale is Jack Kelly. Christian Bale is Theodore Laurence. Christian Bale is Daniel Evans. (And so on. Duh.) It's exquisite. Each and every time he stares heatedly past the camera it's like you've never seen him before. 

Ben Foster is outrageous and chilling as Charlie Prince, the sharpshooting right hand man of Crowe's Ben Wade. His round, staring eyes and serious expression behind his scruff and beneath his broad-brimmed hat are eerie and effortlessly impassioned with the intent of doing everything for his Boss (this is a gigantor build-up to the fantastic moment in the last ten minutes of the film when Crowe absolutely destroys him for gunning down Bale's character... dead silence except for gunshots, all they do is stare at each other, and it's awesome!). His costuming is almost... surreally perfect. His hat, his coat, his silhouette are cut as meticulously onscreen as if he were a fucking diamond, but he doesn't stand out from the others visually and serves no distraction to the story. It's great. 

The film has twists and suspense that serve it well as a modern salute to old Westerns. It's old-tasting but with new enough faces and a new enough vigor to its delivery that it keeps a modern audience captive with open, slack jaws and gasps a-plenty. (Wow, do I sound like a film critic? Good.)

...uh. End spoilers here?

Other than that. I might have a little fever right now. I feel achy and cold but my face is warm. That usually signifies 'fever' yeah? Well. Shit. Tomorrow will consist of taking meds, packing/organizing stuff to go back to school (heads up, Chicagoans) and cleaning the shit out of my room. More or less literally. It's a wreck. Seriously. 

Till then. I salute you.

Mother Superior jump the gun...

Question: So. How much would it suck if I went back to school on Saturday and started class on Monday and I was already sick?

Answer: A lot.

One of the things I've inherited from my mother are sensitive sinuses. It's interesting, because they shift whenever humidity experiences a change, which means I know when it's raining (if I'm inside) and usually also if it's going to rain or if it's going to be mercilessly muggy for a given week in the summertime. Monday it was stupidly warm here in the midwest, for the beginning of January, at least. I was at work (inside the mall and away from windows or doors) and felt my sinuses shift for the first time in a while, at least since August. Minutes later a customer came in and mentioned in passing that it was pouring cats and dogs. That's when it started. Not the crazy weather. My nose. I felt increasingly over the last two days as if I have lots of little bits of cottonball stuck up my nasal cavity. I figured that it would pass more quickly due to it being winter. But now I'm thinking maybe it won't pass more quickly due to it being winter, because now I'm not expecting it or my immune system is more weak or something like that.

That would be dumb. Especially because I drink more tea than most people I know. Even at work, I find I make more drinks over the course of the day than anyone else I'm working with. I try to conceal it a little bit. 

...and then today I woke up with my nose FULL OF COTTON and my throat utterly closed off, like the one exit you need off the freeway to get to the airport with on time. A shower has fixed most of that, and ibuprofen has been absorbed just in case.

But how dumb. I've been healthy for several months now and then BAM the Midwest has a day of menopause and suddenly I'm the kid in the back of the class who uses up all the tissues and carries Purell in her pocket. 

DUMB.

Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Whoa.

Hello, interwebs. I have a blog. Surprise!

Okay, so I've had online journals before but, mostly for my own intents and purposes, they were generally private. Now, inspired by other great writers and bloggers before me, I have joined the ranks of... I-don't-know-whats... by creating this blog. Hurrah.

I'm an actor. I'm also a writer (of poetry, fiction, prose, etc. etc. and so on). I sell tea at a local branch of a nationwide corporation. I'm a history geek. I'm big on movies (and the practice of quoting them). I'm also big on Irish music and heritage. I like My Little Ponies, Monet, Shakespeare, stargazer lilies, cherry cordial Hershey kisses, French language and culture, Bagel Bites, Twizzlers, Wheat Thins (and Triscuits), juice boxes (or Capri Sun), nice ink pens, loose tea, expensive (often leatherbound) journals, the smell of vintage books, eBay, kimonos, transcendentalism, ballet, opera, Tschaikowsky's Nutcracker, birdwatching, watercolors, Isaac Mizrahi, reading plays out loud (with or without friends), Stephen Sondheim, Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, rubber (or plush) duckies, horses (real ones), finding things in random places, fresh bread (sourdough!), Batman, and, in general, moderately intelligent people who like to act moderately unintelligent in public forums (the reverse is unacceptable). 

So. Let's start with that much, and see where this goes...