tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-149080572024-03-06T20:40:17.897-08:00Virtual Hyperbole(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-37099670996009413762012-05-31T19:29:00.001-07:002019-09-06T20:40:55.487-07:00certain unalienable Rights<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was national news yesterday, but it was very local for me and my community: 6 people
died in Seattle yesterday from gun violence. The cafe where the shooter shot 5
people (two dead on the scene) is 10 blocks from where I work. Another
person was shot in the head downtown and died on the scene when she apparently
tried to prevent the shooter from jacking her car -- about 10 blocks from where
Mark works. The shooter was found and surrounded by the SWAT Team a mile or two
away from where he dumped the car in West Seattle (which is my 'hood). He
shot himself in the head. The shooter and two of the victims died later in the
day at Harborview Medical Center where I used to work. The two men who were dead
on the scene at the cafe were known and loved by people who I know and love.<br />
<br />
This really could happen
to anyone -- not philosophically, but literally. For totally actually real. As a
friend of mine said yesterday: "It's all
'us.' There is no 'them.'" Even the shooter. We are all us. Those neighborhoods are our neighborhoods; all of them. We live there, everywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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And yet, we choose
as a nation to continue to make it easier to get a gun than to get adequate affordable healthcare (physical and
mental)<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span>. That's broken.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img src="https://extras.mnginteractive.com/live/media/site36/2012/0531/20120531__55b510a14b512e0f110f6a7067000e6f%7Ep1.jpg" height="399" id="il_fi" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="600"> </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My parents have long maintained that locks aren't to keep thieves out,
but to keep the rest of us from a moment of weakness. We'll never be
able to stop those who are hell-bent to do harm. But to reduce easy,
instant access to instruments of harm would go a ways to mitigating
moments of impulse --- no matter what the root causes of those moments
are (illness, grief, rage, etc.).</div>
(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-73104484429414977852012-04-15T12:27:00.000-07:002012-04-15T12:42:36.309-07:00the (egg) scale: Was it worth it?<b>Skillet Diner on Capitol Hill (FRI 4/6): </b>I've been dying to try this place. As much as I always wanted to, I never got to their food truck mostly because they didn't park their truck in front of my house. But the concept is up my alley: down home with a gourmet touch; anything that mixes my blue-collar heart with my fancy-pants palate is not gonna have to try too hard to get to second base with me. We got there early-ish, because we figured it would be a scene (it is). The food is near perfection; it strikes a great note -- not too fussy like a lot of "simple concept" places can be. But there was something I couldn't quite put my finger on about the service; more than that -- the overall ambiance. It wasn't bad, exactly; it was just not fully satisfying. Our server was cute and (mostly) pleasant when interacting with us, but nobody seemed to enjoy working there with each other. Nothing overt, but shrugs, sighs, whispering - being an open concept floor plan where there are no hiding places for staff, this bleeds. I ordered one of the specialty drinks, but the house rye was out; did I want to substitute? Well, sure, whatever. So she has me pick from the menu; I didn't care. But right off, I think this is odd; wtf do I know, the bartender should sub based on his apparent expertise, yeah? But no biggie. Until I overhear the bartender talking to our server (open concept!) about what the difference in price should be since I'm not having the house rye...uhhh, pardon <i>me</i>, barkeep. Later, I subbed the poutine for fries with my meal (uh buh duh), but got plain ol' fries anyway. Again, no biggie at first, but when I pointed it out, our server (our only direct unhappy moment with her) huffed and said merely, "Oh. I thought you said fries." - definitely with a tone that implied that she was still pretty sure I'd said fries - and then walked away. What the...? Turns out she was going to the kitchen to order a poutine, but still. The rest of the meal was without further hitches, but it was too late. By that point, I was too aware of the atmosphere to lose myself in any surface charm Skillet might have held. But dammit, the food was phenomenal. But their truck is in West Sea every Saturday now within walking distance, and I think I'll just go there. <b>This restaurant is (egg)-tolerated!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Canon on Capitol Hill (FRI 4/6): </b>Fuck this place. I guess it's maybe a speakeasy concept, but there's a dude outside who has to tell you if it's okay for you to go inside. Meh. We waited outside for a minute, then he lets us in where we then wait for the unsmiling and rather cold hostess who tells us there are no seats. Then why did that dude let us in? We are allowed to stand by the bar until something frees up. Jesus. Really? People do this? I guess so, it's packed, and there are more people outside waiting for Zuul the Gatekeeper to grant them passage. But I just want a quick drink, so see ya suckers. <b>This bar is (egg)-shunned!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Tavern Law on Capitol Hill (FRI 4/6): </b>Thank you, Canon, for douche'ing us so we could go here instead. Everyone is friendly; people (staff!) actually smile. It was crowded, but not packed. The drinks were effing delicious. And they have a way more bad ass speakeasy -- through a secret door, and you use a special phone to call up to to see if they've got space. I can't wait to try it! What Canon can only dream of. <b>The bar is (egg)-acclaimed!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Happy Days @ New City Theatre (FRI 4/6): </b>This show was great; better than great. Really well-done from top to bottom. It's basically a one-woman show, with some occasional appearances by a husband (is Seanjohn Walsh ever not spot-on?), and Mary Ewald is a fucking force. I admire Beckett, and love to read his work. But do I <i>enjoy </i>Beckett? Onstage? I dunno; I'm wary. Rightfully so, I think. Like Shakespeare, it's incredibly delicate; really hard to make it sing and really easy to make a clunker. So I was reluctant to have high hopes despite the glowing reports I'd heard. The first five or ten minutes had me worried: you could tell it was done expertly, but it felt stilted and stylized, intellectually stimulating but not emotionally so. I'm not even sure when that feeling disappeared, but certainly by 15-20 minutes in, I was caught. This play and Ewald's performance wormed its way under my skin, stayed there, and every once in awhile buried deeper. I starting crying at curtain call, and I can't even fully tell you why. A grotesque and beautiful show. <b>This show is (egg)-acclaimed!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Confessions of a Dangerous Mind (TUE 4/10):</b> On rental DVD; I completely missed it when it came out in 2002. Oh my gosh, I really liked this movie. Sam Rockwell is astonishing as Chuck Barris; a portrayal that is not merely impersonation or mimicry. Clooney's direction is so unusual and refreshing. Theatrical -- single shot scenes that are hard to believe. My favorite trick of the movie (credited directly, I think, directly to Clooney & Rockwell equally) is that there is not one wink or nod in the whole movie commenting on what an unbelievable premise it is. That one choice makes all the difference between it being the funny but mean comedy it could've been and turning it into a funny but piercing character study. Secondly, it's packed with style and doesn't rely on straight narrative technique, giving it a dreamy quality that forces the audience to decided for themselves: real or fantasy? A moderately patient movie, though; was slow for me in some places, but never for long. <b>The movie is (egg)-acclaimed!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Pan Africa Grill (WED 4/11): </b>Monkey and I will travel far for Ethiopian when the mood strikes us (well, to the Central District, mostly), and we were excited to have a place in our own neighborhood. Pan Africa is actually authentic and fusion African, but I honestly went for the Ethiopian vegetarian platter with injera. It was good, but not crazy good; it didn't beat our fave places in the CD. The injera wasn't as flavorful, not as sour as I like it, and it also seemed a little dry. The veg platter wasn't as varied as I've had, but it was all good; however don't think I go back just for that. What I would go back for are the other entrees we got with the combo platter (veg platter + 1 entree sample for each person). Holy crap. The lamb tips were amazing (Monkey's choice) even though I don't love lamb, and I got a chicken thing that was really good. The prices here are higher than the places we love in the CD, but we don't have to leave W-Sea and that's hard to beat. When I crave the straight up comfort and taste of a Ethiopian veg platter, I'm still going to go to the CD, but Pan Africa will be a welcome addition to my regular neighborhood places. <b>This restaurant is (egg)-condoned!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Lark Eden @ Theater Schmeater (THU 4/12): </b>What a delight; this show was quiet and lovely and ultimately quite moving. The story of three women's best friendship from schoolgirls to old ladies, it unfolds exclusively in the notes and letters they've written to each over the years. Like almost everybody in the whole world, there's nothing extraordinary about their lives except for the impact they've had on each other. The play is charming and unassuming and rings true. All three actors match each other, note for note. Nobody steals this show, but rather they share it and make the entire package better by doing so. They are wonderful, and I can only assume the director (also the playwright) had a hand in guiding that. However, the director's hand is not obvious in the show (appropriate, I think) ... except for two staging choices that were odd and could've been distracting if the lovely play & performances had not won me over instantly. The first was the configuration: Three music stands with three chairs, and the actors were stationary; this worked quite well because of the style of the show, no problems there (I might have given them writing desks instead music stands for a prettier picture, but no matter). But it was staged shallow, wide, and flat with the actors fairly close together at center stage and also fairly close to the audience; while the audience stretched the entire length of the space. The audience at either end (including me) had to physically turn body & head to center for the whole show - weird (and possibly uncomfortable). The space has more depth they could've easily taken advantage of - scoot the actors back, cut the ends off, and add a few more rows. Or a modified 3/4 thrust - a semi circle with the ladies in the middle - would have been lovely. The second staging issue I had was that they had their scripts in binders with them on the stands; they were decorated to look like scrapbooks but they were clearly binders since they were clearly turning the pages of the scripts. It was so obvious that this was obviously a choice, but I didn't get it. I like the scrapbook idea, but I wished they'd been pulling physical letters and photos out of them. I got over both issues quite quickly because the journey was so compelling, but they apparently stuck with me since I just spent so much time cataloging them here. I think mostly because I couldn't figure out <i>why</i>. But these are all thoughts I had after the fact; during the show, I was completely engrossed and engaged, and I left wanting more. <b>This show is (egg)-acclaimed!</b><br />
<br />
<b>(egg)-regulars:</b><br />
<b>The Deluxe</b> - I like this place; the staff is always great and the food is solid. They don't mind when Bug Poppa and I want to play Jenga. <br />
<b>Endolyne Joe's</b> - One of our "go-to" choices in the neighborhood; they never disappoint.<br />
<b>Capitol Club</b> - Good happy hour food, good drinks, great staff, and PILLOWS!(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-37593169781953754412012-04-09T22:44:00.000-07:002012-04-15T14:34:22.789-07:00the (egg) scale - i review last week's activities<b>West Seattle Bowl (SAT 3/31):</b> If there is something to not like about this place, I haven't the hell found it. I adore this joint. Parking's a breeze. It's clean and not skeezy at all. The counter dudes are always pleasant and funny, and they always banter with me, which I adore. The bar is reasonably stocked, but I am always sad about the lack of my bourbon of choice (Bulleit). The attached restaurant just recently changed from a Chinese place to the Highstrike Grill, which is pretty good bar food. It closes for restaurant seating at 10 PM but serves the alley until 11 PM --- thank god; kitchens that close before 11 PM are the bane of theatre people everywhere. I've heard that purists hate black light "rock'n'bowl" but screw them, it's effing fun. Also easy online reservations --- I reserved 3 lanes for our closing night
party and put down a $75 deposit. The actual cost on Saturday nights is
$26 per lane per hour. If you're bowling with 4 or 5 per lane, I think
this is super reasonable. We ended up only needing 2 lanes, and they
were cool about it and only charged us for what we used. The total cost
was about $125 for slightly over 2 hours, which broke down to $5/person/game. <b>This activity is (egg)-acclaimed!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Lola for brunch (WED 4/4): </b>One of the Tom Douglas mini-empire. Which is to say, high quality and conceptually specific. This one has a "Greek spirit" according to the website. A beautiful interior. Warm and comfy, but not "homey." Feels casually fancy; like we're eating brunch in a movie. The food was absolutely delectable. I cannot name one less-than-excellent thing about it. And yet ... you know what? Maybe just too fancy for me for a non-dinner meal. I didn't want to try that hard to impress my own breakfast. <b>This brunch is (egg)-tolerated!</b><br />
<br />
<b>Hunger Games @ Cinerama (WED 4/4): </b>I liked it <i>just fine </i>when I saw it and for about 15 minutes after it was done. Since then, I've liked it less and less every thought I've given thought to it, and now it's kinda starting to make me mad. I read the book - very recently, too - and maybe it was still too fresh in my mind. But truly, I don't think my mind was the problem. The problem was that the movie was bloody dull (I don't know whether that pun was intended or not). The book was soooooooooo delicious, addictive. The movie was not fucking delicious. AT ALL. I kept wanting it to be, and kinda kept pretending that it was while I was watching it. But in the harsh light of day, that bullshit did not fly. Nothing made me ooh or ahh in delight or gasp in horror or even laugh out loud. Everything was so fucking and boringly inevitable from the first shot. And I know it <i>is</i> inevitable --- I mean, it's got to follow the book, right? --- but it shouldn't <i>feel</i> that way. Good movies (books/plays/songs/etc.), no matter how many times you've seen (read/heard) them, DO NOT feel that way. And screw that "control center" Game Maker baloney - I yawn all over your Big-Brother-tech-effects-wank-fest. Cut that crap, and add back in 10-15 minutes of the actual interesting book-story. Ugh. Infinitely dissatisfying. An itch I can't quite reach. <b>This movie is (egg)-ignored!</b>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-50192932406303698052012-04-08T12:51:00.000-07:002012-04-15T14:41:52.227-07:00West Side 20Run/walk/talk session. I started a FB group of FB & actual friends to meet up in West Seattle on the weekends. The idea is we go 20 minutes one direction and then turn around. Run, walk, find a bench and people-watch or scenery-gaze, whatever. Some of us get farther than others; who cares? Kids, dogs, strollers, and hooligans welcome. Then we often go get a coffee or brekkie.<br />
<br />
Today was with wife-couple K&B and Heath, their dog. The weather is just turning nice, but it wasn't crowded at Alki because of Easter. We went further than 20, because we hadn't seen each other for awhile and had a lot to catch up on.<br />
<br />
Join us, if you wanna. Look up West Side 20 on FB.<br />
<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="450px" id="mmf_blog_map" src="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/embedded/81866807" width="550px">&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/embedded/81866807"&amp;amp;gt;Alki Bathhouse - Me-Kwa-Mooks Park&amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;br/&amp;amp;gt;
&amp;amp;lt;a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/?location=Seattle, WA"&amp;amp;gt;Find more Run in Seattle, WA&amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;gt;
&lt;/p&gt;</iframe><br />
<a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/?location=Seattle,%20WA">Find more Run in Seattle, WA</a>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-72409166150393418262012-04-05T19:36:00.001-07:002012-04-15T14:41:52.355-07:00a lumbering hippo bearYesterday's run was awkward because it had been so long; I was rusty, but the basic form was still there. But TODAY. Today was a different story. I felt like a hippo or a sleepy fat bear. Clumsy and lumbering. Clumbering. A cartoon Igor without the signature tag line, but retaining the slobber. But who the hell cares? I did it. Another 2 miles. I get to checkmark this day. I'll take the W.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-47578328458794452882012-04-04T19:31:00.000-07:002012-04-15T18:03:08.113-07:00showing upI won't be winning any prizes for today's run, but it's been many many many weeks since I did it at all. And many many many months since I've done it regularly. I hope to change that. I want to sleep well again. I want my body to feel right again. I want my mind to land in my skull on top of my body again.<br />
<br />
I ran. Not far, not hard, but I'll take it.<br />
<br />
<!-- Start MMF Embed Tool -->
<iframe id="mmf_blog_map" src="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/embedded/18954930" height="450px" width="550px" frameborder="0">
<a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/embedded/18954930">Quick loop up Genesee Hill to overlook.</a><br/>
<a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/?location=Seattle, WA">Find more Run in Seattle, WA</a>
</iframe><br />
<a href="http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/?location=Seattle, WA">Find more Run in Seattle, WA</a>
<!-- End MMF Embed Tool -->(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-45613126234287869802009-05-11T14:57:00.000-07:002019-09-06T20:52:47.020-07:00have your cake *OR* eat your cake?Shannie's newest post (over <a href="http://shannieshooshoo.livejournal.com/130386.html">here</a>, about her 1st wedding anniversary and the year-old cake they consumed) reminded my of this story of my Mom's & Dad's. One of my faves.<br />
<br />
My someday parents' reception was at a hotel, who catered & serviced the entire event, including wedding cake. At the end of the evening, they asked for the top cake tier to take with them. The staff reacted oddly; they'd never heard of that tradition. But whatever -- the top was boxed up. Upon getting home, my mom wrapped the shit out of it so that it wouldn't get freezer burn, and stuck it in the back of the freezer.<br />
<br />
One year later ...<br />
My Dad was a DC cop and my Mom was a public health nurse. They both worked long hours and weird shifts; they didn't get a ton of time together at that stage. So they'd both taken the night off, and were settling in to toast their 1st anniversary. My mom had taken out the cake to thaw to enjoy after dinner. But after dinner this friend of theirs dropped by (unannounced) to wish them a happy 1st year, and then proceeded to just hang out. Can you imagine? So this guy stays, like, two hours, and finally they shove him out the door.<br />
<br />
Finally! They can relax & eat their cake. It took Mom like 20 minutes to unwrap the cake, and then Dad cuts into it, and . . . thud. He pushed the knife a bit harder. Rip. The knife goes straight through the frosting into cardboard. It was a frosted cardboard cake top that the hotel apparently used and re-used! They were too embarrassed or something to admit that it was fake, so they let my parents take it home.<br />
<br />
hahahaha(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-90508038474996997282009-04-27T15:21:00.000-07:002009-04-28T12:08:34.745-07:00aha! duh.I had a terrible audition. Not terrible horrible, but terribly uninspiring, which any actor will tell you is worse. I'm guessing directors will tell you that too. Anyway, admidst my relative boringness came a cool reminder of why I love the puzzle of working on good plays with smart and talented people.<br /><br />I had read the play thoroughly once and skimmed it once or twice more. And I worked on the one scene a bunch, alone and with Monkey's help. I can tell you from years of experience that the scene is funny; you can just tell. It's written funny - the rhythms, the spikes, the language, the pace - but it didn't seem that way coming out of my mouth. I knew that it was <em>supposed</em> to be, but couldn't figure out why it <em>wasn't</em>. Frustrating as hell but I figured, ah fuck it; maybe I'm wrong. Just do it faster and bigger, that makes everything funny!<br /><br />I was not wrong. Which became clear in an infinity of awkwardness while I read the scene for the director. I was not funny, but she was sweet. "Okay, um. Let's start again, and this time think about this ..." And in a very lovely and efficient explanation showed me that I had played the character about as opposite as one could've and still been in the same play. It was so obvious, and I couldn't believe I had led myself so far astray. I felt weirdly ecstatic. "I knew it was supposed to be funny!" I exclaimed, and then did the scene again. And, even though it was rather mediocre since the Tetris pieces of the scene were still dropping into place in my mind, it was kinda funny. Could've been hilarious with a little more prep.<br /><br />Usually it happens in rehearsal, sometimes in performance, sometimes (annoyingly) after the show has closed, and this time it happened in the audition; but I think it's my favorite thing about acting, that aha! moment.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-38664988456046315062009-04-24T12:55:00.000-07:002009-04-25T15:52:58.570-07:00shaking things upSo I have another audition tomorrow. Funny, yeah? (<em>How's that no-acting thing going? </em>Oh, good, ya know; getting by.)<br /><br />A different show, but the same company; they cast for their whole season all at once. It's a director I've always admired but never worked with, a playwright that I really like a ton, and the theatre (of which I'm a fan) is blocks from my home. That's what they call a win-win, people. They called me in for 2 different roles. After reading the play (which is really good - another win), I did something I've never ever done before in the history of auditioning ... I told them I was not interested in reading for one of the roles, and that I wouldn't be preparing those sides. It's not a bad part, but it didn't intrigue or stimulate me. In fact, the thought of auditioning for this role and and the small possibility that I could be cast in it was making me feel like ditching the audition altogether, even though I really like the other role I'll be reading for. So I told 'em.<br /><br />When I viewed acting as my vocation, I wouldn't have done this. Being in a play was better than not being in a play, right? Not to mention that actors are trained to say "yes please you bet absolutely." Viewing acting as an avocation (which - truly? - is how my bank account has viewed it all along), has freed me up to ask, "Will this be better than going out to dinner with my sweetheart, or going hiking, or skipping out of town for the weekend, or sitting on my butt on the couch when I wanna, or finally playing Fallout3, or making jewelry in my garage?" If the answer is a clear yes or no, I know what to do. If the answer is a greyer shade of conditional, now I get to be upfront and negotiate for my conditions to be met. Like an equal adult and prospective venture partner, as opposed to an infantalized dime-a-dozen-actor.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-34429240790167072232009-04-21T10:02:00.000-07:002009-04-21T12:13:26.661-07:00how aud<p>My cure for the common audition is a whiskey. Despite my ambivalence, it's still the best thing to silence the minor demons in my head who assure me that I should've <em>this </em>or shouldn't've <em>that</em>. Get thee behind me with a Makers in front of me.</p><p>Also. You're supposed to bring a headshot and resume to an audition. Oh right. This I remembered just in time to print a resume, dig through my photos, realize I don't have a stash of current pics because I didn't bother to replenish because of the whole "giving up acting" thing I've got going on, remember that I have a high-res scan of my pic, thank Athena that I just changed the toner in my printer, print a pic, head out the door, and arrive just barely in time and sweating.</p><p>I did not freak out, fall down or throw up. It went well. I like acting; it's like a favorite pair of super comfy jeans.</p>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-20244478527817047992009-04-20T16:04:00.000-07:002009-04-21T12:13:38.884-07:00AUDThat's how it's marked in my calendar; it's how I've always marked it in my calendar. The notation hasn't changed, but I have. I haven't performed in a full-length show in over a year, and haven't auditioned for anything in just about 2 years. I feel ... ambivalent. I'm not sure that I really truly understood the nature of ambilvalence until now. I've ususally used that word either (a.) to describe something akin to reluctance, (b.) when I couldn't care less, or (c.) in order to avoid commitment. No longer will I disrespect this excellent and perfect word.<br /><br />AUD. Nobody is more surprised than I.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-36679136345513451802009-04-17T12:20:00.000-07:002009-04-17T12:52:28.938-07:00schmulti schmask<p>Multi-tasking - much like swimming pool sex - is overrated. It seems like it'd be a good idea, but it's really not that great. Perhaps even unpleasant or harmful. More time is wasted in multi-tasking than is wasted in water-cooler conversations, for instance. Certainly more than than is being wasted right now in my taking a full-on break from work and typing this post.</p><p>This isn't sour grapes from someone who sucks at multi-tasking; I'm actually "good" at it (however you measure <em>that</em> crap). It's just a shitty way to get quality work done efficiently. Are you, too, an excellent multi-tasker? Does it make you, too, feel like you never really ever get anything done? Try this: take your 8-hr. desk-job workday and break it up into eight 1-hr. segments. During each hour, do something on your to-do list. Seriously. You might be surprised.</p><p>For those of us at email-dependent jobs, I suggest the following. Either: </p><ul><li>dedicate 1 morning slot and 1 afternoon slot for email; or (if that's too scary for you)</li><li>use the last 10 minutes of each slot for email.</li></ul><p>Trust me, people won't even notice. Anyway, there are a ton of valid reasons (psychological & work-flow-related) for using delayed response techniques. If they do notice, they'll get used to your new style and they'll adjust accordingly.</p><p>Excuse me, won't you? My scheduled mental health break is up and I must return to work, refreshed and ready for the next item!</p>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-57120636274573511042009-04-06T14:34:00.000-07:002012-04-15T14:41:52.259-07:00i want to remember this feelingI don't diet - there's no point, I end up obsessing about food which I don't actually do usually - but I am watching it. I'd like to lose "the last elusive 10," and I know I'll just feel better. Ya know - run faster, jump higher, live with greater abandon, practice zen-like patience, carpe diem, et al.<br /><br />I DO NOT LIKE: self-deprivation. Let's face it, my kith. I like to eat. I like to drink good whiskey and good wine and the occasional excellent mixed drink. "Apertif" and "digestif" are 2 words that I am thrilled to have (and use) in my personal lexicon. I absolutely adore epic meals the span the length of an entire evening or mid-day, when you get just as drunk off of food and conversation as off of wine.<br /><br />I DO LIKE: weighing consequences. I don't mind that, after one of those aforementioned glorious epic dinners with Monkey on Friday, I woke up in a cold sweat several times through the night because my body was working overtime to process what it assumed could only be foreign invaders. I didn't mind because I knew that might be the price I paid. I planned for it. WORTH IT.<br /><br />I do, however, mind it today when I am running late for work, don't have time to pack lunch, decide to take advantage of no packed lunch to "splurge," go out and get some momentarily-delicious-but-crappy-for-me-junk-filled lunch, wolf it down like a deprived addict, and then within an hour feel like my head is going to split open and my guts may rebel in several different styles. I ate mindlessly something I wasn't even really craving because I thought it'd be fun, and - hell - it's Monday, I'm tired and I deserve it. Boo-hoo. I totally subverted my better judgement, and I'm glad I'm paying for it.<br /><br />You know what's kinda freaky, though, is how soon this feeling would go away if I just kept it up eating relative crap. And then it would be the opposite, and I would feel crappy when I had to wean myself off of the junk. That is actually a sufficiently sobering thought to slap me in line. It was hard enough to get here the first time.<br /><br />I have the knowledge and the power. I need to choose to use it for good.<br /><br />(Those last 2 sentences made me giggle.)(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-87608692925884212332009-03-23T12:39:00.001-07:002009-03-23T12:39:56.692-07:00marchThe lion had better transform into a lamb pretty fucking quick.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-40789632177870334742009-03-17T11:51:00.000-07:002009-03-17T12:10:50.440-07:00green dayEvery March 17th, I think about the very best Lusty Lady signs* EVER. (Proven fact.) It was many many years ago on a St. Patrick's Day -- back when I was still a babe in the city; when I was still a Mrs.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"Erin go braugh-less"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">. . . and (my fave) . . .</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"Porn beef and grabbage"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*Lusty Lady is a strip club in downtown Seattle that has a big marquee sign out front, and they change the risque puns posted on it frequently.</span>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-67455851176657952952009-03-06T10:08:00.000-08:002012-04-15T14:41:52.317-07:00c'monI have to admit frustration. Since mid-Febraury, I've been diligent about counting calories, cooking at home, eating in a much more balanced manner, keeping exercise levels consistent; and yet the scale does not move down. And in the last week, I am sorry to report that it's moved up. I don't expect miracles or even drastic change, but seriously? C'mon now.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-25976757369348626072008-12-09T00:13:00.000-08:002008-12-09T00:55:57.654-08:00jewelry for toughiesDames and dudes:<br /><br />I updated my <a href="http://www.hardwearables.com/">HardWearables </a>site with a bunch of new photos. They aren't great photos, but they'll do for now. Take a look, think about your loved ones, and then about the fact that you haven't gotten any shopping done yet.<br /><br />If you get an inkling to get your hands on my hardware, email me. I can hook you up with a day or two lead time; esp. if you live in Seattle.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-72338119935043386512008-09-17T18:16:00.000-07:002008-09-17T19:07:04.893-07:00de plane! de plane!So I wanna get some more tattoos. I've held off for years since my first/last ones (back in college) ... not because I didn't catch the bug ('cause oh I did), but because of my CAREER. Well, fuck! Fuck THAT. I figure, what the hell? I'm not acting, I still want the tattoos... done deal. I can regret it later.<br /><br />That reminds me of an old BFL joke:<br />Leaping off cliff in the throes of carpe-diem-ness: "No regrets! NO REGRETS!!"<br />Realizing 2 seconds later that you just leapt off a fucking cliff: "Regrets! Oh, regrets!"<br /><br />Anyhoo ... tattoo. Where? What? Advice welcome. I have some ideas, but what I really want is someone really cool and intuitive and talented to interview me and then design me something. Does that happen? Do people do that without you having to be a millionaire? Many things I'd have once considered tattooing have been ruined by others. Things that inspire/intrigue me but that have been co-opted by or are so closely associated with subcultures that I'm not actually a part of (e.g. celtic or celtic-inspired, pin-up girls, gargoyles). God(dess) bless all you folks, but I am not one of you.<br /><br />What's a girl to do? I don't know; you tell me.<br /><br />If I achieve inspiration, I will let you know. Hell, I'll post pictures!<br /><br />I remember when I got my first tattoo. I was 19. I went in thinking I would get a little shamrock on my ankle, and (typically) walked out with the moon and stars on my left shoulder blade. I was at college, 19 years old. I didn't need Mom & Dad's permission at that point, but wasn't immune to their definite influence or to my self-imposed guilt. So I waited until afterward to tell them. They were a bit used to me by now (being their daughter and all) and barely blinked in front of me when I told them; although I bet they had a lively discussion later. They merely paused, and that pause was legion. Among other things it said, "we love you," and "why would you do that?!" and "I can't believe you are our daughter" and "well, it's your body." Later, I swear they got a kick out of telling their friends. "Our crazy daughter, you know Peggy. She nuts, but we love her! She got a tattoo! Can you believe it?" They got to pretend more shock then they felt and at the same time hold up the indy street cred of their daughter. Anyway, in my imagination they secretly loved it.<br /><br />My parents raised me to be an independent thinker. And oh I bet they rue the day! I love you Mom & Dad! Best gift <span style="font-weight: bold;">EVER</span>.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-82127425668133628542008-09-12T09:54:00.000-07:002008-09-12T10:37:17.947-07:00McCain the heartbreakerI have not agreed with McCain much of the time since I started paying attention to him (in his failed bid for the White House), but he was someone that I learned to respect greatly. "There's a thinking man," I said to myself. "Goshdarnit, we may not agree, but he has integrity. He actually <em>thinks</em>. I think we'd be okay if he were elected." Oh, if wishes were horses ...<br /><br />The current John McCain is a shell of the previous John McCain, and I am sad when I see him speak now. As I watched his acceptance speech at the RNC, I wanted SO BAD to see the McCain I'd come to admire. As much as I want this whole right-wing fiasco of a goverment to collapse under the weight of its own lies, I wished with all I had that the real John McCain, the one hiding deep down inside, would burst through and show what he used to made of.<br /><br />I may have cried. At least I felt like it. I want Obama to win so badly it's stupid to even talk about, but I still want the aliens to return McCain.<br /><br />Anyway, I'm not expressing anything new or intriguing or provocative. If I'd cared to count, I would've already lost count of the number of my liberal friends who feel the same way. And I guess not just them ... Here's a fiercely independent, conservative-leaning blogger who nails it for me: <a href="http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2008/09/mccains-integri.html#more">Andrew Sullivan in The Atlantic.com: "McCain's Integrity"</a><br /><br />IN OTHER NEWS:<br />I'm back! I think. Maybe. Lotsa changes; lotsa thinking and poking around at various aspects of my life & being. Existential for sure, but no angst involved. It turns out I like to process before I write, rather than while I'm writing. There's been much in my life to process, and therefore no writing. If you're still there, then: Hi stranger!(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-75792406815694682872008-02-11T08:22:00.000-08:002008-02-12T09:16:01.832-08:00the first monday of the rest of my lifeIt is only appropriate that I celebrated the eve of my fulltimeness by staying out WAY too late and drinking a WEE BIT too much. I had a low-grade hangover all morning.<br /><br />Hey, look at me! I'm an adult!(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-56949954175881690172008-02-10T15:35:00.000-08:002008-02-12T10:01:19.405-08:00turn and face the strangerI was featured in an <a href="http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/Content?oid=503829">essay</a> that <a href="http://www.mikedaisey.com/">Mike Daisey</a> wrote for The Stranger this past week. If you read this blog or know me pretty well, it's easy to identify the friend of the story as me. Setting aside the main thrust of the essay for a minute and focusing on ME because this is MY BLOG ... It was interesting to read my situation as a story. Mike sent it to me before it went to print, and I giggled when I read it. Because I seem so tragically romantic, which is not how I feel inside. But what he writes does not ring false, and I endorsed it fully. Because it is sad, isn't it? I live my life - it is impossible to view my own life as a narrative. I've come to peace with whatever this decision might mean for me and my future, or else I wouldn't've been able to make the decision in the first place. But as a narrative, it's kinda fucking depressing, for real. If it wasn't me - if I didn't know the person Mike was talking about - I would've felt a tangible loss upon reading about it. Not necessarily for her - the friend - but for the broken system we (theater folk) are trying to make a living in.<br /><br />An unexpected and gigantic benefit of having a little piece of my life turned into story is that it became this thing outside of me that I can look at, like an object. It is now separate from me as well as inside me, and I get the best of both worlds. Being able to poke and prod it from the outside has released me from it's power, and I feel such freedom. It's real!<br /><br />THEATER IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THEATER! I now feel truly right about my decision to give up acting. I can also see clearly that while that might mean forever, it also might not. I've rejected the "all or nothing" "yes or no" "professional or amateur" mythic paradigm of artistry. Now I - me, myself - get to define when and how I will or won't pursue it, and with whom. My shackles are broken and I defy your definitions!(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-43360115152514109382008-02-07T08:31:00.002-08:002012-04-15T14:41:52.199-07:00here's a fucking health tip for you ...If you eat like shit, you will feel like shit. Trust me, I've done the research and it's true.(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-76661628143823667062008-01-16T14:15:00.000-08:002008-02-12T10:01:19.406-08:00turn and face the strange<div>LOTSA CHANGES! <span style="font-style: italic;">(You get a super special secret kiss if you can name or describe that BFL show and/or sketch.)</span><br /><br />Oh, by the by ... I've given up theatre again. You can see my past reflections on this subject (in chrono order): <a href="http://virtualhyperbole.blogspot.com/2007/04/careful-what-you-wish-for.html">here (in which I break up with acting)</a> , <a href="http://virtualhyperbole.blogspot.com/2007/08/push-me-pull-you.html">here (in which acting & I patch things up)</a>, and <a href="http://virtualhyperbole.blogspot.com/2007/09/hard-habit-to-break.html">here (in which I continue to question my relationship with acting)</a>.<br /><br />I haven't spilled much about my experience with <span style="font-style: italic;">The Women </span>at ACT Theatre. As long as I live, I will think of that production as a gift. An incredibly unique, wonderful and truly special experience. I really have nothing bad to say about it. I loved every minute. And yet, ironically, it was during the production that I realized that my previous semi-facetious disavowal of acting was perhaps actually my prescient subconsciousness prepping me for future action.<br /><br />During the show's process, I looked at the actors around me (in and out of the show). They mainly fall into 3 categories. They either:<br /><ol><li>are supported financially by someone else,</li><li>worry constantly about money, health insurance and the next job, or<br /> </li><li>are young.</li></ol> I mean, really. What am I gonna do? Pushing 40, I'm gonna give up a stable day-job that I like, excellent health insurance and a steady paycheck? I'm gonna go Equity and schlep constantly to pick up theatre work, which most of the time won't even be acting?<br /><br />Yeah. Seriously? I doubt it. It's laughable. It's also not how I want to live.<br /><br />I have a friend that has to totally re-budget if she wants to spend $10 at a spontaneous lunch out. I have another friend who lives in a 2-room dive. They are both older than I am. I've got dozens of examples like this. Don't misunderstand - I have no judgments related to them as people. More power to them, and I am honestly thrilled that they are living their dream.<br /><br />I guess it's just not so much my dream anymore.<br /><br />Although I also think it's ludicrous to say that I've given it up forever. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I do know that this time feels different than last time when I think I was simply burned out. This feels more permanent, like an actual life-change decision.<br /><br />In closely related news, I am 2 weeks away from going fulltime at my job. Kage (my jobshare partner and dear friend) decided to pursue another career (which is so exciting and I am so supportive of). Considering these reflections I've just shared, I decided the time was ripe to see what is was like to be a non-actor. Just about the same time, my boss got promoted and asked me to go with her. So I'm also about to be promoted. Weird, right? Doesn't it all seem kinda destined?<br /><br />I'm pretty much at peace with this for myself, although I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about the broader and more general societal implications. How frustrating it is that the world does not value what I am really fucking good at. The tiny niggling nagging feeling that I'm losing the fight by giving up. But t the same time, these feelings seem romantic and self-indulgent.<br /><br />How does it change you inside to linguistically change how you self-define to the outside world? For as long as I've been a self-supporting adult, I have always been an actor who has a day-job. Now I'll be a 9-to-5er who will maybe act sometimes.<br /></div>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-51229516664345862852008-01-08T22:40:00.002-08:002012-04-15T14:41:52.234-07:00H to the OFor the first time in weeks, today I drank as much water as I should. In related news, I also peed like 100 times, but who cares? I know from experience that it regulates as soon as my body's flushed some of its toxins. I'm also trying to cut back on my diet cola consumption. At one point, I'd quit it altogether, but then I quit quitting. Now I'm going to quit quit quitting. I'll have to find new ways to get my caffeine. Maybe I'll just start taking speed. I'm joking. DON'T DO DRUGS.<br /><br />I am finding that it's not the lack of desire to workout that keeps me from it; nor is it the lack of time anymore now that the holidays are over. It's simply that sometimes I get distracted and I forget. Yesterday, for instance - I wanted to workout, but I also wanted to get this project done.<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">*</span> I planned to work on the first half of the project, take a break & workout, and then finish up the project. Well, I forgot to workout. So thoroughly, in fact, that it wasn't until I was reading in bed before sleep that I remembered. The same exact thing happened the day before with a different project.<span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">**</span> Apparently this is a tendency of mine, so I need to refine my system. Maybe decide approximately when I want to workout and set an alarm.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TODAY:</span> 1 hour of stationary bike, 100 crunches, 30 push-ups<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Prior:</span> I wanted to work out, but I almost put it off to get some little thing done "real quick." Trying to fool myself again! I steered myself to workout right then while thinking about it.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">During:</span> Enjoyed it. Easy to do when I have the TV to distract me (which we do in our workout room). I had thought I'd only bike for 1/2-hr, but I changed it to an hour when I realized that <span style="font-style: italic;">The Biggest Loser </span>was on. I swear that is the best show to watch for inspiration. Those fuckers work SO HARD; it's impossible to skimp on a workout when watching that show.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">After: </span>Felt excellent, and proud that I pushed myself a bit. My butt hurts from the bike seat. I still detest push-ups.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">*The project I was working on yesterday was making a tea cozy. It's my first project with my new sewing machine! I should say "am" instead of "was" because my first attempt failed. Well, no. It didn't fail - it's a kick-ass looking rock-n-roll tea cozy; it just doesn't fit my teapot. I made a newbie mistake (because I'm a newbie), and left too little for seam allowance. Anyone with a smaller pot need a cool tea cozy?</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >**The project that distracted me on Sunday was creating a new vanity website. <a href="http://www.peggygannon.com/">Check it out</a>; I love it!</span>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14908057.post-51768437410704209702008-01-07T00:53:00.000-08:002008-02-12T10:01:19.406-08:00this is all i did todayI am glorying in newfound <a href="http://www.peggygannon.com/">web vanity</a>.<br /><br />In other news, although I never quite recovered from STAYING UP UNTIL FOUR IN THE MORNING, I had nary a sign of hangover. Which is either a true miracle or a freak oversight of nature that I'm sure I will pay for imminently. In the meantime - HEY! you guys that own whoever makes Emergence-C ... I have no right to feel as good as I do, and I thank you.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>(egg)http://www.blogger.com/profile/05824550479322871407noreply@blogger.com3