on rehearsal

It's been a long time since I've been in a play.

Well, really not that long, I suppose. "Clue" was only last July, but it seems like eons ago.

I cannot adequately express how good it feels to again be a part of a cast I respect, to be spending hours of time working on a piece of ephemeral art, to obsess over the minutiae of text and character. I spent about four hours a night for four nights at rehearsal this week, and on the fifth night, I was regretful that we didn't have another.

There's something magical, too, in sitting in a park on a blanket night after night, having people come by and watch us, their dogs running through the grass, the stars warm and misty above. The words themselves are beautiful, and they echo over the hill that serves as the amphitheater in a way that regular, unscripted speech never could.

I am nourished and happy in a way I haven't been in a long time. And while it's impossible to tell how good a show is until it goes up, the feeling in the pit of my stomach says we've hit on something good.

(Merchant of Venice opens in three weeks at Himmel Park. Would love to see you there.)

welcome to the information age

There was a 5.8 magnitude earthquake in Virginia today. I was alerted because my sister texted me about a half hour later with "And we just had an earthquake." (She was unharmed and more concerned about her recent Russian class placement.)

Some people, apparently, were alerted even more quickly than that:

One Twitter user, @allisonkilkenny, a blogger and contributing reporter for The Nation, wrote: "Weirdest moment: Seeing the people I'm following in DC tweet 'earthquake' seconds before I felt it here in NYC."

(from USAToday)

Apparently, Twitter moves faster than earthquakes.

things I like this week, vol. 15

Our friend Justin has been doing these little segments on Sonoran Living, and they're awesome (if you can get past the obnoxiously fake comments of the host). They're great if you like wine but don't know enough to speak coherently about it.

. . .

A fun personal essay on wine pairings.

. . .

It's a father (the artist) and son. He's done several. I love this one the best, because somehow their eyes seem to have the same emotion in them; I want one of my sister and I.

. . .

Everything about this cover amuses me.

. . .

Cleopatra (on the left). A National Geographic photo of the day.

. . .

Awesome because it was taken in a studio (a good lesson on how photographs can lie), but also because it embodies the spirit of something that was missing from my summer.

a day in potential facebook updates

How to spoil a Tasha: Bailey's AND amaretto in her coffee.

Little kids made the best dancers. They're so unselfconscious. J came in when I was playing a slow song and crept fantastically across the floor, doing weird things with her arms, and it was wonderful. She dances when almost any music comes on, even if it's just a theme song on the TV.

Colin, on needing more space while washing his hair: My elbows need to be free to fly. (pause) I once took out an entire murder of crows that way. (pause) There was only one that lived. He said he'd be my spirit animal. (pause) I turned him down, though. He was asking for too much in royalties. (pause) I wonder if the other crows would have called him a war profiteer.

I bought red lipstick yesterday - a brighter color than I've ever used. It makes me happy.

Still remarkably unconcerned about school starting tomorrow.

My fortune cookie: "Your mind is quick and sharp today. Do something dramatic." I suppose a surprise milonga in red lipstick is dramatic enough.

Colin's fortune cookies: "More art in your life at this time will help you feel better" and "The star of riches is shining on you this month." One of those requires the other; and combined, they would be the attainment of a dream. In the interest of that, go buy his book.

Just bought a new booster seat so that Colin can start taking Joley to school. She fits the weight requirement, but she looks so tiny and frail in what is essentially just the regular seat belt.

I haven't been able to find my glasses all day.

I feel like a tattoo of something's logo automatically qualifies you for the title of corporate whore. You've turned yourself into free, permanent advertising. And yes, I think less of you.

In the interest of being well-rested tomorrow, I am hoping that I continue to be teacher-nightmare-free this evening.

on class reunions, pt. 1

So apparently my ten year class reunion is coming up.

I wasn't surprised - my best friend, who graduated the year before me, had hers just recently. Their event was $65 for a hotel ballroom and some appetizers, so I was hoping, when the time came, that it might be suggested that our reunion be something a little more worth the investment.

A week or so ago, a member of my class started a couple facebook groups in order to try and organize at least a committee to start working on it (since clearly no one had started any work so far). In the intervening time, as perhaps could've been predicted, people were apparently offended by her initiative and willingness to help, and started calling for the "right" people to be on the committee (namely, student government - only one of whom has even participated in the discussions, so far as I can tell). Eventually, someone else commandeered the group and said that *she* was going to take control, "not to step on any toes." She was applauded.

It's been an interesting but slightly off-putting microcosm of how people behaved back in high school. Equally interesting has been observing how the suggestions of activities very much reflect the types of people we've divided into as adults: one suggestion was a bar-crawl of 4th ave dressed as Cowboys and Indians; another was a family picnic so we could all get our kids together; a third was a golf tourney. Several people suggested the places they got married as nice, relatively inexpensive locations. One person has requested no events on Sunday so that the Sabbath can be observed. It seems that people are focusing on what has become most important in or typical of their current lives.

The idea of a class reunion, to me, is only mildly interesting. I would like to go if it were an event conducive to having a decent time; I am not interested if it looks like it's going to be an expensive but mediocre conglomeration of awkward silences and the reassembly of obnoxious cliques. I feel fairly distanced from most of what happened in high school; I am a very different person than I was, with more self-confidence and a good deal less tolerance for bullshit. Most of the people I wanted to stay in contact with in high school I have remained in contact with, and the people I haven't are either not likely to show up or belonged to a different graduating class.

I found this Kurt Vonnegut quote the other day, and I think it pretty well sums up how I feel (even if we're not quite to that point yet):

True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.