If there was a place to end the movie of this blog, this weekend would be it.
As I'd said before, I was going to a show Friday with my darlin'. I was feeling good-makeup was just right, I had second-day hair(the phenomenon* that occurs the day after you wash your hair, wherein said hair is fabulous and does what you tell it to), and I was even early. Well, being early didn't matter, because the college policy is "reservation seating a half hour before the show, walk-ins get five minutes". He made a reservation, and I had not. I had also perhaps misinterpreted our exchange- when I invited him, and he replied that he was already going and would see me there. I figured that I would be invited to sit next to him. Ah, and if I had made a reservation, I very well might have. Who knows? All the seats around him were full by the time I got there.
He did, at the very least, come out and talk to me while I waited in the lobby. He was gorgeous and sweet, and made me smile as always. The time came when he needed to go back in, so I waited patiently until they let us in and grabbed the first seat I saw.
As I sat, alone and disappointed, I was suddenly struck with an amazingly strong urge to be home, with my beautiful boy, just relaxing. In minutes it grew to a craving, and as I sensed the hush that usually comes right before a show begins, I slipped out the door. Behind me, I heard the main usher tell the other "Well, we're closed now, but let her back in when she comes back". But my feet carried me through the building, out the doors, into the parking lot, and into the truck. I went home, and made us dinner, and spent the evening rather pleasantly in my own home. When he asked about the show, I told him it filled up, and made a reservation for the two of us on Saturday.
There it was, all of a sudden. The feeling of "home". The feeling of wanting to be in the place that is filled with memories and warmth. I have wandered my whole life long, but have never felt this way about the rooms I inhabit. This emotion is new, and wonderful, and I never want to lose it.
And for the record-my absence was never noticed by my darlin'. No text, no Facebook message. I think that's alright. I know where I should be.
*spelled this right on the first try holy shit
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Of Cheeseballs And Peanuts
I am the agent of a peanut.
No, seriously.
My role as co-producer for The Book of Liz involves using our Mr. Peanut costume as much as possible- getting him to the college, in the parade, and around our town events.
I'm also in charge of getting "butts in the seats". At the present, this mostly means making many, many cheeseballs.
I can't figure out how the sum of my life has come to this.
No, seriously.
My role as co-producer for The Book of Liz involves using our Mr. Peanut costume as much as possible- getting him to the college, in the parade, and around our town events.
I'm also in charge of getting "butts in the seats". At the present, this mostly means making many, many cheeseballs.
I can't figure out how the sum of my life has come to this.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Not All Is Unwell
Despite my last post, I am severely happy.
Christmas is coming! It's my favorite time of year, and it's our first Christmas in the apartment. He doesn't like Christmas, but I think that mainly has to do with a lack of warm, fuzzy holidays. I won't force him to participate, but I think having presents under the tree, homemade cookies and hot chocolate around, Christmas music playing, the smell of a pine tree, and 2000% happier roommate will change his mind(or at very least, get him used to the idea). I'm already eying ornaments and decorations, and humming my favorite songs. I'm waiting for that moment that is so painstakingly far from now, when the lights are on the tree and we turn the overhead lights out and the tree just glows all the colors.... I'm getting carried away.
And the other happy thing- Tonight I'm going to see a play at the college. Accompanied by my darlin', my weird semi-crush. It's not a date by any means, but it will be good to see him.
Things aren't perfect, but there's so much to look forward to!
Christmas is coming! It's my favorite time of year, and it's our first Christmas in the apartment. He doesn't like Christmas, but I think that mainly has to do with a lack of warm, fuzzy holidays. I won't force him to participate, but I think having presents under the tree, homemade cookies and hot chocolate around, Christmas music playing, the smell of a pine tree, and 2000% happier roommate will change his mind(or at very least, get him used to the idea). I'm already eying ornaments and decorations, and humming my favorite songs. I'm waiting for that moment that is so painstakingly far from now, when the lights are on the tree and we turn the overhead lights out and the tree just glows all the colors.... I'm getting carried away.
And the other happy thing- Tonight I'm going to see a play at the college. Accompanied by my darlin', my weird semi-crush. It's not a date by any means, but it will be good to see him.
Things aren't perfect, but there's so much to look forward to!
Despite All My Rage, I Am Still Just A Rat In A Cage
There's a fine line between doing what you love, and having what you love being dangled in front of you.
I recently became involved with a show that is, shall we say, not really my style. I auditioned, and was told I had done well. Unfortunately, the director had called me the next week to let me know that there "wasn't a part for me", but could I be stage manager? And as is my way, I agreed. I am a kick-ass stage manager, if I do say so myself.
When I received the cast list a few days later, it seemed as though I'd been duped. Although there wasn't a part for me, there were two for all the other women. I was irritated, to say the least. If the director had wanted a strong stage manager, he could have said so, rather than pretend that there was no room at the inn. That is only the first issue with the casting I have.
Over and over at this theatre I have been told what an amazing actress I am(I filled in last-minute for a walkout in the spring show, about a week before we opened. That same walkout also has two major roles in this show-what the fuck, man? If I'd done that, I'd never be allowed onstage again), and yet I haven't been cast in the two shows since. I don't expect to be cast in every show, obviously, but in casts of 10-30 people one could assume that there's a part for an "amazing actress". I am confused and angered by this discrepancy.
The artistic director of the theatre approached me last week, and asked if I would assist her in producing the show. This is a rather large job, and I did feel good about them reaching out to me to do it. On the other side of the coin, it's a thankless job that requires more effort than most people want to put towards something that doesn't pay. I took the job for two distinct reasons; One, it heavily involves getting people into the theatre, which is important and two, because the artistic director is a very nice woman that is under more stress than she needs and to take some of the producing on would be incredibly beneficial to her.
So now, I've taken on two background roles, neither of which I'm incredibly excited for, and I find myself questioning these decisions. I feel as though I'm a puppet for a theatre that won't listen to my suggestions, continuously forces me into roles that I do not want, and is more concerned about money than art. They know I want to direct, and broaden our horizons, and I feel as though I'm jumping through hoops to get there. But when do the hoops end? What do I have to do to get that done? When will I get to enjoy my craft again?
I recently became involved with a show that is, shall we say, not really my style. I auditioned, and was told I had done well. Unfortunately, the director had called me the next week to let me know that there "wasn't a part for me", but could I be stage manager? And as is my way, I agreed. I am a kick-ass stage manager, if I do say so myself.
When I received the cast list a few days later, it seemed as though I'd been duped. Although there wasn't a part for me, there were two for all the other women. I was irritated, to say the least. If the director had wanted a strong stage manager, he could have said so, rather than pretend that there was no room at the inn. That is only the first issue with the casting I have.
Over and over at this theatre I have been told what an amazing actress I am(I filled in last-minute for a walkout in the spring show, about a week before we opened. That same walkout also has two major roles in this show-what the fuck, man? If I'd done that, I'd never be allowed onstage again), and yet I haven't been cast in the two shows since. I don't expect to be cast in every show, obviously, but in casts of 10-30 people one could assume that there's a part for an "amazing actress". I am confused and angered by this discrepancy.
The artistic director of the theatre approached me last week, and asked if I would assist her in producing the show. This is a rather large job, and I did feel good about them reaching out to me to do it. On the other side of the coin, it's a thankless job that requires more effort than most people want to put towards something that doesn't pay. I took the job for two distinct reasons; One, it heavily involves getting people into the theatre, which is important and two, because the artistic director is a very nice woman that is under more stress than she needs and to take some of the producing on would be incredibly beneficial to her.
So now, I've taken on two background roles, neither of which I'm incredibly excited for, and I find myself questioning these decisions. I feel as though I'm a puppet for a theatre that won't listen to my suggestions, continuously forces me into roles that I do not want, and is more concerned about money than art. They know I want to direct, and broaden our horizons, and I feel as though I'm jumping through hoops to get there. But when do the hoops end? What do I have to do to get that done? When will I get to enjoy my craft again?
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The Other Side of Things
Recently, both he and I have become involved in a show called "The Book of Liz". It's a... quaint little play, nonsensical.
For our first rehearsal last night(and I will refrain from discussing the casting process, because I feel that the amount of horse manure involved would fertilize the tri-county area), the director went through the cast and asked each person to talk about their character.
Anybody who has been in a show has been through this ritual. Everyone talks about their character's feelings, and motivations, in long and winding sentences. Sometimes, they've honestly put alot of thought into who their characters are, but I've found that it's often an attempt to impress everyone with how deep and meaningful they can be. As with most social situations, there are certain things you know you're expected to say, and you say them.
And then there's my beautiful boy.
"He's a stereotypical gay man. There's nothing really special about him at all. Duncan's only role in this play is to be the exact opposite of the kind of man Elizabeth is used to. And that's really all I have on it."
Everyone, including me, just stared at him. They were shocked and awed, but I was just proud. Rather than prattle on about who his character was, he got straight to the heart of the device; he said very plainly why his character was there.
It's one of the greatest examples of why I love him. Even when he knows exactly what is expected of him, he gives no fucks. He doesn't hold back his thoughts because they aren't "right" or "normal".
After a few moments of stunned silence, everyone picked up their jaws and moved on to the next character, but I kept looking at him. He always manages to find a new way to surprise me.
For our first rehearsal last night(and I will refrain from discussing the casting process, because I feel that the amount of horse manure involved would fertilize the tri-county area), the director went through the cast and asked each person to talk about their character.
Anybody who has been in a show has been through this ritual. Everyone talks about their character's feelings, and motivations, in long and winding sentences. Sometimes, they've honestly put alot of thought into who their characters are, but I've found that it's often an attempt to impress everyone with how deep and meaningful they can be. As with most social situations, there are certain things you know you're expected to say, and you say them.
And then there's my beautiful boy.
"He's a stereotypical gay man. There's nothing really special about him at all. Duncan's only role in this play is to be the exact opposite of the kind of man Elizabeth is used to. And that's really all I have on it."
Everyone, including me, just stared at him. They were shocked and awed, but I was just proud. Rather than prattle on about who his character was, he got straight to the heart of the device; he said very plainly why his character was there.
It's one of the greatest examples of why I love him. Even when he knows exactly what is expected of him, he gives no fucks. He doesn't hold back his thoughts because they aren't "right" or "normal".
After a few moments of stunned silence, everyone picked up their jaws and moved on to the next character, but I kept looking at him. He always manages to find a new way to surprise me.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Anger
He's not really one for sharing, but when he does, I listen.
And when he talks about his mom ditching him for ten years, I hear him, and I understand. That hurts, no matter what he says.
Then, when I see his mother carelessly post on Facebook that nine and a half years ago, she had her sister drop her off with nothing but a duffel bag full of stuff, I get angry-because she seems almost proud.
I don't doubt that she needed to make a change in her life. Drug addiction can do that to a person. But don't forget that you left your sons to do it. Don't forget that you lost alot more than you can ever gain back.
I know your son better than you do, and let me tell you, you ARE missing out. I feel nothing but sorry for you, that you don't know the music he listens to and his favorite foods and the way he draws and reads and thinks.
I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to assure him that I'm around to stay, thanks to you. But it's a task I look forward to.
And when he talks about his mom ditching him for ten years, I hear him, and I understand. That hurts, no matter what he says.
Then, when I see his mother carelessly post on Facebook that nine and a half years ago, she had her sister drop her off with nothing but a duffel bag full of stuff, I get angry-because she seems almost proud.
I don't doubt that she needed to make a change in her life. Drug addiction can do that to a person. But don't forget that you left your sons to do it. Don't forget that you lost alot more than you can ever gain back.
I know your son better than you do, and let me tell you, you ARE missing out. I feel nothing but sorry for you, that you don't know the music he listens to and his favorite foods and the way he draws and reads and thinks.
I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to assure him that I'm around to stay, thanks to you. But it's a task I look forward to.
The Pursuit of Healthiness
Last night, we had our fist "bacon talk".
"So, I'm thinking... bacon, egg, and cheese wraps."
"Sounds awesome. Turkey bacon?"
"....No."
"Why not?"
"It's just chewy and unpleasant. Dad used to make it all the time. I'm very, very tired of turkey bacon."
"Well, I did notice that your father was actually pretty conscious of what he put in his body, even if he was an ass."
...Ouch. Ok, ok, so maybe I'm not the most health-conscious person. I like bacon and cheese and chocolate and chinese food. These are undeniable facts. So what? Life is short, and I enjoy what I can while I can. If I were the personification of a sin, it would most certainly be indulgence.
That's all well and good, but I do have to start thinking about it more. I may be ok with a menu comprised of Taco Bell and Domino's, doesn't mean I should subject Kevin to the same things.
So when I went to the store last night and rather than bacon(turkey or otherwise), I grabbed some wheat pasta, greek yogurt, a zucchini, and a packet of herb and pesto dip mix. A recipe worthy of Pinterest if I ever did see one. I took the greek yogurt, added some milk and just a bit of butter, and melted it in a little sauce pan. I added about half of the dip mix and a thinly sliced zucchini. I boiled the pasta until al dente(just a little tough) and threw it all in the baking pan. Added a little parmesan on top, baked at 350 for fifteen minutes, and viola! Healthy pasta recipe.
Of course, if I could do it all again, I'd have made more sauce, skipped the baking, and added some grilled chicken. But hey, learn as you go, right?
Now, what can I whip up for tonight....?
"So, I'm thinking... bacon, egg, and cheese wraps."
"Sounds awesome. Turkey bacon?"
"....No."
"Why not?"
"It's just chewy and unpleasant. Dad used to make it all the time. I'm very, very tired of turkey bacon."
"Well, I did notice that your father was actually pretty conscious of what he put in his body, even if he was an ass."
...Ouch. Ok, ok, so maybe I'm not the most health-conscious person. I like bacon and cheese and chocolate and chinese food. These are undeniable facts. So what? Life is short, and I enjoy what I can while I can. If I were the personification of a sin, it would most certainly be indulgence.
That's all well and good, but I do have to start thinking about it more. I may be ok with a menu comprised of Taco Bell and Domino's, doesn't mean I should subject Kevin to the same things.
So when I went to the store last night and rather than bacon(turkey or otherwise), I grabbed some wheat pasta, greek yogurt, a zucchini, and a packet of herb and pesto dip mix. A recipe worthy of Pinterest if I ever did see one. I took the greek yogurt, added some milk and just a bit of butter, and melted it in a little sauce pan. I added about half of the dip mix and a thinly sliced zucchini. I boiled the pasta until al dente(just a little tough) and threw it all in the baking pan. Added a little parmesan on top, baked at 350 for fifteen minutes, and viola! Healthy pasta recipe.
Of course, if I could do it all again, I'd have made more sauce, skipped the baking, and added some grilled chicken. But hey, learn as you go, right?
Now, what can I whip up for tonight....?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)