constants

Sometimes when I don't know how to say something, I just don't say it at all.

One of these days I'll figure that out.

On a satisfying note, the very last Mythos:Pathos went so so well.  More on that later, I think, because this was such a whirlwind of a show, but I am still sitting here hours after the lights went out with beautiful final images of Prometheus in my head... and I am so pleased.

Maybe this is why I have so many swedish readers on my blog. The missing connection...

ADHD medication may help curb crime: ADHD medication may help curb crime

I'm big in Sweden.

Not that I track the traffic from this blog often, but apparently only people from Russia and Sweden read this sucker.

Dear Boston friends... weigh in, anytime. (At the very least just creep on my wordage from a discreet anonymous location!)

girl toys, boy toys.

As a little girl that had and LOVED Legos, KNex, Erector Sets, Lincoln Logs, Playmobile, and many many science kits and things to mush together, explode, and dirtify, I didn't give a lot of childhood thought about gender stereotypes and toys.

Some of us, however, need a bit of nudging, and that's why this is AWESOME.

Good Books, Good Words.

Books I've Read in the last 2ish Weeks:

Gone Girl (mindfuck.  a good one, though.)
The Replacement Wife
Losing It (Admittedly not the best purchase... thought it was theater fiction, turns out its about sex.  Close enough?)
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Master of Disguise (gosh, a CIA nonfic before the CIA was so popular this week- ahead of the trend?)

Books I am Reading Currently (bad choice at the same time but too late to turn back... variety is the spice of life??):

Cloud Atlas
The Art of War (why not?)

Words I Love. (only a small small sample)

Salacious
Notorious
Pedantic
Erroneous
Flaccid

Words I Hate.

Onus.

Picture 5 naked men in towels, minus steam, surrounded by books.

My new couch is here and I don't know where to sit on it.  It's a beautiful L-shaped couch, beautiful cream Italian leather that still smells like leather.  Each offshoot is the same length, meaning 3 people could probably sleep on it at the same time (I was trying to make this into something ridiculous but just left myself giggling instead).  The end of one side turns into a chaise which Twyla has laid claim to.

I'm currently sprawled out in the corner of it, and I feel like a kid in a fort.  A very expensive fort, but solid all the same.  I was the fort master as a kid.  Especially at my Adie and Pop-Pop's house.  They had a big downstairs room that had 2 doors- one led to a cedar sauna that had been converted into a library (picture 5 naked men in towels, minus steam, surrounded by books.... that's what I always pictured!), and another door that had a bottom half and top half that opened separately that turned into a sort of plant-growing room with grow lights.  We would try to make a big enough fort with blankets and pillows and couches and other things to make a fort that connected the sauna to the tricky half-door.  Tunnels, passageways, sub-fort living space... our forts were never lacking :)

Anyways, back to the current problem.  I feel like we are in the formative couch days.  Eventually I will have a 'spot' on this couch, one that isn't easily changeable because other couch users will find their own spots.  I need to pick wisely.  I could pick normal couch sections, where I could sit upright, do all of my work-from-home in a ergonomic way, spread out.  I'm sorry have we met?  I could pick the chaise, but that might be too free-form, and Twyla already has kind of taken ownership of it.  I am leaning to the corner (literally and otherwise), since there is lots of stability with not one side but two, and extra area so I can lay upside down and put my legs just about anywhere.

Development:  Enough space to do 2 backwards rolls, more if I could turn a corner while rolling.

Important Career Decisions.

Or, Why Not Becoming a News Anchor was the Best Decision of My Life. 

 #autobiographytitles

 

JJ shared this with me...

... and I will share it with you!

KICKSTARTER!

Hey any random person that might actually read my blog.  Luminarium is doing it's yearly Kickstarter.  This year it's especially important to me!  Two of my dear friends (that are over-the-top supportive of what I do) wish to sustain Luminarium by making a generous donation to the company.  Their challenge was to raise matching funds.  Boom.  Done.  I didn't even have to beg or plead or whine that you help.  Now that we have 14 entire days to go, I ask that you perhaps give the video a watch or share it on your own site or through social media.  2012 Presidential candidates (and local candidates too) can raise millions and millions just to advertise themselves, so let's raise some money for an organization that actual does some good in and for its community.  Watch the video, I did some voice recording just for you.  I will love you forever.

There is never enough time for anything!

One more...

I love the groan of active snow and the white noise of wind. I like sitting by the window to watch the snowflakes furiously and dizzily race down from the skies, and I like the sky itself. On the dark New Hampshire street I grew up on the plum snow-sky was eerie, night was slightly lighter than the norm and it more often than not felt like the preshow act for a scarier fantasy movie. In my current Boston neighborhood the snowy night sky is still purple but closer to grey than an actual color. Since streetlights never allow complete darkness the muted sky feels more like another old worn blanket on top of my bed- comfortable. I can still see flakes spiraling down, but the main difference is the quiet that is also falling. No rushing cars, buses, pedestrians. It is same time of quiet I sat in many times as a kid on the night after Christmas well beyond my bedtime sneakily and steadily assembling a new LEGO set in the dark in my bedroom, satisfied smirk on my face since the moon most always illuminated our backyard through the pine trees. I could build, listen, and play sentry over the snowflakes that ensured a snow day whenever tomorrow struck.

Poem medicating.

...and on such a night, progressing from the last post, it's best to wear multiple pairs of socks, listen to impressively howling wind, and wistfully read poems.  I often get made fun of for keeping my books in my office, but select favorite poetry books in my nightstand drawers... I counter that only the most important stuff gets stored in nightstand drawers ;)

Poetry safety words = mandated stop before reading too much Sylvia Plath or going the other direction and drowning in Shakespeare sonnets. For now, though, as I haven't got that far, a few easy favorites.

i love you much(most beautiful darling) more than anyone on the earth and i like you better than everything in the sky -sunlight and singing welcome your coming although winter may be everywhere with such a silence and such a darkness noone can quite begin to guess (except my life)the true time of year- and if what calls itself a world should have the luck to hear such singing(or glimpse such sunlight as will leap higher than high through gayer than gayest someone's heart at your each nearness)everyone certainly would(my most beautiful darling)believe in nothing but love  -e.e. cummings If you can keep your head when all about you  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,  If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,  But make allowance for their doubting too;  If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,  Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,  Or being hated, don't give way to hating,  And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;  If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;  If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster  And treat those two impostors just the same;  If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,  Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,  And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,  And lose, and start again at your beginnings  And never breathe a word about your loss;  If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew  To serve your turn long after they are gone,  And so hold on when there is nothing in you  Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,  ' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,  if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,  If all men count with you, but none too much;  If you can fill the unforgiving minute  With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,  Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,  And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son! -Rudyard Kipling And finally a link to some Keats, to make the faintest of faint connections to the cursed Urns piece, at http://www.bartleby.com/101/625.html, because that's where my head should be at.   And/and an end to this blog post because I cannot figure out how to switch the formatting out of columns.

Sometimes it's a why bother kind of night... not even the dog wanted to hang out with me tonight.  At least the snow is (kind of) pretty.  I give it a one day grace period, then it needs to hurry up and melt.  Ugly snow is the most miserable thing I can think of.

Barbara Walters just quoted something I can't place on abc election coverage...

Adversity introduces us to ourselves

Usually I'm not into overly deep quotes, but I took a minute or two to self-reflect and this is solid.

Election innuendos 2012...

Do I even need to mention exit poll?

Twyla is running as part of the bone party. Everyone deserves a good bone.

The last 20 minutes of my life...

This weekend's recent happenings just turned into the biggest snake of thoughts and video cravings.  If you'd like to spy on the goings on of my tired-Sunday-night-musical-theatre-deprived brain, follow along below.

11:44pm.

Apply a new red lipstick, for kicks.

Start off by thinking about Saturday night- a spur of the moment decision to go see the touring production of Chicago at the Wang (hahaha).  A fun night with friends, but a very tepid production featuring an awkwardly disappointing Christie Brinkley.  Find and read a review online, here,  that is very gracious to the production.

11:46pm.

Get sad about the lack of awesomely perfect musical theatre in my life, get nervous about upcoming theatre prospects, get more sad about the injustice done to Hot Honey Rag in the show last night, find favorite version of the number from FOSSE... watch here, jump to 3:30 if you're lazy.

Debate with Ariane about Fosse logistics, think about what I love about Fosse in general, pin it on some serious committed embodiment of movement by decent Fosse-performers.

11:49pm.

Think about current piece at the College, no it's not plot-based, but how do I get my dancers that aren't making a career of dance to discover embodiment of movement/character, even when not playing a defined role... Think think think. 

11:51pm. 

Get bored of thinking, find favorite Fosse stuff from Damn Yankees, Pajama Game, Kiss Me Kate (laugh about how many times they sing the names Harry and Dick back to back).... find Fosse DVD and fire it up while thinking that it's a better time to watch than to sleep.  

Fall in love with these musicals and numbers all over again... back to thinking about embodiment.  I take for granted I work with a few wonderful dancers in Luminarium that are beyond proficient in finding their character within the work and channeling the movement inside and out.  How to bring this to an amateur level... Moment of proudness for being picky in rehearsal tonight and attempting to coach theatrical moments and movement specifics out of the 8 college ladies I am working with.  I don't like spellings things out, way more into discovery, but...

11:57pm.

Serious commitment to silly roles.  Where else can we find it? Always with Gene!  Is it too late to watch both Fosse and Singing in the Rain?  Probably.  Time for youtube substitutes to get my Singing in the Rain and American in Paris fixes.  Urgh.  Silly 2012. We take ourselves and some of our movement too seriously, sometimes. 

11:59pm.

Have a laugh about the amount of pelvis in my own choreo.  Sneaky sneaky jazz... who needs labels/genres anyways? No time for Slaughter on 10th to catch some video evidence of crazy pelvis action.

Mental note.  I should return the box of Rogers/Astaire DVDs I borrowed from my mom.  Other mental note, who has my copy of Anchorman? Other-other mental note... WHY can't Movin' Out revive itself?  That show was way too short-lived. Third mental note, not really a note, more of a thought... why on earth can't my day job involve choreographing musicals?  How amazing would that be?  Day job = fun theatre candy, night job/real work = Luminarium.  Wowza.  That'd oddly similar to the days where I take a Ritalin and drink coffee and green juice all day and then go out for a cocktail with a friend. Woooooooooooo.  Maybe that would be bad for me.  Eh.

12:03am.

Moon some more over Gene Kelly (this is never confined to a specific amount of time), think about logistics of making a time machine and jumping in for Leslie Caron, here, so I can be serenaded.

12:06am.  

Have a GREAT idea to chronicle the last 20 minutes.  Write it all out.  Find myself in the present (12:25) having wasted another 20 minutes by doing this.  Still watching Fosse.  I'd really like an apple.