Virtual Hyperbole

Shannie's newest post (over here , 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. 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. One year later ... 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 frie...

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. 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 supposed to be, but couldn't figure out why it wasn't . Frustrating as hell but I figured, ah fuck it; maybe I'm wrong. Just do it faster and bigger, that makes everything funny! I was not wrong. Which became clear in an infinity of awkwardness while I read the scene for the director. I was not funn...

So I have another audition tomorrow. Funny, yeah? ( How's that no-acting thing going? Oh, good, ya know; getting by.) 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 ot...

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 this or shouldn't've that . Get thee behind me with a Makers in front of me. 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. 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.

That'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. AUD. Nobody is more surprised than I.

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. This isn't sour grapes from someone who sucks at multi-tasking; I'm actually "good" at it (however you measure that 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. For those of us at email-dependent jobs, I suggest the following. Either: dedicate 1 morning slot and 1 afternoon slot for em...

I 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. 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. 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 ...

The lion had better transform into a lamb pretty fucking quick.

Every 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. "Erin go braugh-less" . . . and (my fave) . . . "Porn beef and grabbage" *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.

I 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.