Misogynist, I.

I was taught to think like the men of my father's generation.  When I meet a college educated man of a certain age and style of humour, they recognise in me a strange kind of kinship.  I've read the books they read, written the styles of paper they wrote, heard their lectures and held their discussions.  My childhood was their college experience.  

Were I a feminist, I would reject this as the Patriarchy, I suppose.  But instead I grew up a misogynist, who thinks the world belongs to her and no one can tell me anything because my voice matters.  A good place to live, as a female.

I've been despised by Quaker lesbians and children of the 70s, who feel they fought to earn what I claim as my birthright, because someone decided to teach them it wasn't theirs.  They feel, and they apologise for what they think, because it might be hurtful.  They are considerate.  We should all be considerate.  

And here am I, the misogynist, who says what she means and does not suffer fools who want to be hurt by words I never said.  If you want to be hurt, you will be.  If you choose to hurt, you will.  I am not responsible for your pain.  

You are.  

Dreaming Again

Dreamt it was my birthday.  My birthday is in February, so I'm not sure where I was because it was definitely warm and sunny.  I was in some kind of school scenario, because I was living in a sort of student housing- large, odd shaped room, shared bathroom.  I'd come home to discover that everything in my room had been changed very slightly, but a letter had been left explaining why each thing had been changed.

The details of that aren't important, but the gesture and the sender are.  It was a friend who had done it for my birthday, as an opportunity to create an adventure for me, but I was mad about it because I thought it was someone who was just messing with me and stealing my stuff.

I'm sure there's a message in that, someplace.

Adventures in High School Speech

Had the opportunity to watch upperclassmen perform a piece in the same category my freshmen are entered in.  I'm satisfied that my freshmen are better than the upperclassmen.  The piece is better, the execution is better, and the kids don't appear to be more talented.  They did a much better performance on Wednesday afternoon, I wish I'd thought to tape it, but they'll go to State with it, so I'll record their next rehearsal.  

I have my doubts about the other set of freshmen.  Judged as freshmen, I think they'd advance, but they aren't.  If we have two tough judges, they won't go, it'll get called out for being simplistic and kind of messy, because it's a hard piece.  The kids have come a long way, all of them have shown fantastic growth as performers, but it's a fluff comedy piece that doesn't show off the skills they aren't old enough to've acquired yet.  I thought we'd build a bunch of wacky stuff and get them working as a tight ensemble, in order to hide their lackluster physical comedy skills, but we didn't have time to do it that way.  

Still, when I was a freshman, the event I was in advanced to state.  I think it may've even gotten one ratings at state, and it was genuinely terrible.  Our set was a table, two chairs and a hideous potted plant and possibly a door, and we all played animals that had been transformed into humans.  I had to play a snake.  And tap dance.  Do you know how much it sucks to tap dance as a snake?  When you can't tap dance?  When you're 14 and convinced that you look every single bit as stupid as you feel you do?  

So I share my sympathies with these poor kids who don't want to look like idiots.  But it's taken me 16 years to learn that failure to commit is the best way to make sure you look like an idiot, and maybe it'll only take another 10 more before I remember to commit all the way all the time as a performer.  Right about now, in my life, I would be an excellent high school actor.  

Contest is Saturday. We'll see.  

Things You Learn Online

Guys, no one in the history of ever has referred to you as "old-fashioned."  If you refer to yourself in that manner, it reads as one thing, "repressed and proud of it."  So, on the one hand, that's not doing you any favours, but on the other, thanks for the warning.

I'm willing to assume if you have to say you're easy-going and like to chill, neither of those things are true.

If the only example you have of you dressed up was at someone's wedding, and you're wearing rental gear, don't post that.  Or, rather, do, because it tells us two things, you never dress up, but you think we'll be impressed at the way you look in a rented vest in a pattern a woman picked out because it matched what she had the bridesmaids wear.

However, I'm creepy.  I've discovered that I can find out someone's name when all the identifying information I have for them is their age, hometown and their degree.  That's a creepy-ass talent, because I can't be found as easily.  I don't think.  Nobody try to prove that to me.

Freshmen

I'm a fan of the girl cast in the lead for one of the high school speech events.  She's talented, capable, and apparently a total jerk.  She's skipped out of multiple rehearsals without a word, so I contacted her mother, who apologised for poor communication and intimated it wouldn't be a problem going forward.  I responded, explaining that we had three rehearsals left, and she had to be at all of them, was this a problem?  Nothing.  

Imagine my total lack of surprise when she didn't show up to rehearsal today.  We made the shuffle to re-cast, which is sort of a hassle, but they'll get through it all right.  One of the kids announced that our lead had determined she didn't want to be there and hoped she'd get kicked out.  

I just can't even be mad about that.  I have to assume she's waging some kind of war where she thinks this choice is winning.  Yeah, you just show all of us how totally irresponsible you can be, upset kids you're going to have to keep going to school with for three and a half more years and put your participation in the event you like in jeopardy.  That sure does YOU a lot of good, kiddo.  

There's a tiny voice at the back of my head wondering whether or not this girl's mother was involved or not.  90% of these parents are totally hands off until they want something done, and then it's their kid's problem.  "Oh, whatever, no, you don't have any conflicts."  "What do you mean you have rehearsal every night until 5 like always?  I MADE YOU A DENTIST APPOINTMENT."  So, it would be really, really easy for a kid to invent a gmail or hotmail account for their parent, list it on the information then check that and fake emails.  

In which case, dang, kid, that's a lot of trouble to go to.  It probably didn't, but I acknowledge it's possible.  

You know when you watch Arthur, and you see one of those kids suddenly make up some hair-brained scheme that can only lead to inevitable, painful disaster, but seems like a perfect idea to the kid?  A lot of episodes of Arthur have the ability to look at that scenario and say, "OK, we can let this play out to its obvious inevitable end, OR, we can let it play out into some totally fucked up alternate reality scenario that may or may not provide any kind of closure, logic or consequences."  Which is, of course, the reason you keep watching.  The infamous Snowball episode is a perfect example of this- in any other kid's show, someone would have stolen the snowball, let it melt, confessed, gotten in trouble and been lectured.  But not on Arthur!  

This whole experience has been like an episode of Arthur.  I like it, but I kind of never want to do it again.  In a year, I will probably have forgotten this and do it again anyway.  

Mixing Our Metaphors

Told a friend I was digging holes for the future, and he responded, "sooner or later you'll hit water."  Great, so I'll drown down there.

I spent today looking for theatre work.  This is the time of year all the summer stock jobs start to come up, and it turns out regional theatres and companies post more now, too.  I'm trying to decide whether or not to entertain the thought of full time work elsewhere.

I will, in spite of my better judgement, apply for the 7 week position in a city two hours away, because it's a professional Equity house and they're hiring an assistant director and assistant stage manager.  I'd like the professional credit on the resume, even if I could make more working my current job for that same period of time.

There's a fringe festival I've been invited to.  In what capacity, I don't know, so I say invited in case that's really what it means, "come up and hang out and watch our show," because I don't think they can legally pay me or officially involve me.  It would start immediately after the 7 week job ends.

Several of these postings are for out of state.  And if I apply, what if I get one?  It feels unlikely, because of the difficulty I've had getting a job here, but, what if it should happen?  I'd have to quit two jobs I won't have had for six months, but it will be to move out of state.

And then there's the house.  Oh, the house.

Wanted: One Assistant Director

I'm discovering that my entire world is dramaturgy, and that's not normal.

I should have realised that no, not everyone spends their time mentally reviewing dramatic structure in a given play, mentally creating concepts and questioning the validity of theatre and dramatic choices, but, even amongst the people I do theatre with, people with day jobs and hobbies and relationships and friends, this isn't the case.

And this is, of course, the reason it doesn't look like I have thoughts, interests or dreams, because in order to even access this part of my brain, you have to understand so much more than the average person knows or cares about.  I can't say to someone, "I want to do ensemble based work that explores classic themes in an accessible way," because then I have to explain what I mean by ensemble, classic themes and accessible.

Which is why I've come to the conclusion that I probably am going to have difficulty forming new relationships with people who don't share my background.  When I list off the things I'm looking for in a relationship, I want a collaborator.

I don't really want love or sex or intimacy.  I do want someone to work with.

If I were to have a theatre to work with, doing work I cared about, would that fulfill all of those desires?  Or, having that need filled, would I then be interested in an intimate relationship?

Who was I when I got married?  Was I simply following a path of convenience because it was working at the time?  So why was I so willing to stay with it when it wasn't working?

It's Petty, But I Was Right

"Does that beeping bother you?  Because it's bothering me."
If it's bothering you, do something about it.
"I don't know what it is."
It's the smoke detector.
"It's not plugged in.  It can't be the smoke detector."
It is the smoke detector, we only took out one battery.
"It doesn't have batteries in it.  How can it be the smoke detector?"
I don't know, go check.  That's the noise it makes.
"It's something in the basement."
It's the smoke detector.
"We have a smoke detector in the basement?"
No.  The one up here.
"Where is it?"
Really?  It's the one on the table.
"It's not that smoke detector.  It doesn't have batteries.  It's coming from the basement.  I think I know where I can hear it coming from."
So, what is it?
"I don't know what's down there."
We don't have a smoke detector in the basement.  It's the smoke detector on the table.  If you can't find it, that's not my fault.
"It is not the smoke detector."
Fine.  You figure it out, then.

It starts beeping again three hours later.  I go to stand next to the smoke detector, which still has one of its two batteries in.  It's beeping.

You wanna tell me again how it isn't this smoke detector?