Thursday, August 30, 2018

Adventures in Dating (Apps)

In my therapy session earlier this week, my therapist suggested downloading a dating app as a means to distract myself/get over my recent heartbreak.  She also mentioned that these apps could be good for ego boosts.  My response was, "I don't think my ego is really the problem right now."  And it's really not.

When she and I started talking about possible future relationships, I drew a blank.  All I could think was that my current circle of friends is made up of people who either have partners or are not people I'm interested in dating, often both.  Because they're my friends, not potential romantic partners. My therapist said, "Then it's time to widen your circle."

She then suggested I look at some of the dating apps out there.  She said, "Tinder," and I think physically reacted negatively.  She also mentioned Bumble as being more women-friendly, and I thought, Yeah, I remember hearing about that.

I told her the thought of a dating app terrified me.  But I couldn't quite nail down or express why, but my feeling was very visceral.

The last time I tried meeting people online was pre-text message era!  We're talking like "Yahoo personals" or something.  And then some years later, maybe Match.com?  But even then, it was the same five lesbians on every site; I'm pretty sure I had coffee with all of them.

So after therapy, I downloaded Bumble (for free) on my phone.  And then I didn't touch it for 24 hours.  I mean, I didn't even open the app.

Then, when I did open the app, it said, "Connect with Facebook," and I immediately closed it again.

Then, because I'm a nerd, I did some research.  I found a nice "how to" article from Business Insider of all places.  By the next time I dared open the app again, I felt a tad better and a bit more informed.  And I read the fine print beneath the "Connect with Facebook" promising me that the app doesn't post to Facebook ever.  And even then, I made several changes to the access the app had to my Facebook profile for  my own peace of mind.

I went about "setting up" my profile; however, there's very little to actually "set up," especially if you just import six pictures (the max allowed) from your Facebook profile.  I was surprised (and therefore scared) at how fast it was.  No surveys to fill out, no questionnaires about my hobbies and what kind of cheese I like to eat.  I had to condense myself into a brief bio -- not too hard to do for an actor as I have to write them all the time for show programs.

And then I found a button to make my profile "private," and I hit that little fucker so fast!  "Private" on Bumble (apparently) means that no one can see your stuff, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the sudden reprieve and a chance to tweak my profile/bio a bit.

And during all of the above, I had butterflies in my stomach -- and not the excited, happy kind.  This was trepidation, not anticipation.  But all I could reason was that it's all so new (and new is scary, change is bad, etc. etc.).  So I gingerly waded back into the fray.

And then I hit my next conundrum:  there is no way to "skip" a profile.  You must decide, then and there, if you want to swipe right (good) or swipe left (bad) before you can see any other profiles.  And I have yet to figure out or see how the order of profiles is chosen1.

So of course I started to freak out a bit.  What if I changed my mind?  What if I miss somebody good?  What if I want to compare to the next profile?

And then the crux of it:  I did not want to swipe ripe.  I was terrified to do so.

And it wasn't until a few minutes later in the bathroom (of all places), sitting on the toilet, when I made the stunning realization of why and why all of this was so frightening to me.  I'm still trying to unpack it all, but I'll do my best to explain it here.

My first, unbidden thought about a dating app, and then "swiping right" was:  But then they can see me!

I recognized that non-butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I didn't want to invite their attention.
At. All.

Because then what?
Then I'm stuck with them.
How do I get rid of them?

Things like
Tease
Well, you were asking for it
You invited me
bounced through my head.

Inviting attention like this felt akin to interacting with cat-callers and street harassers (which I don't do).  Just keep your head, girl; just keep on walking.

I flashed back to a date I had in 2006-ish with a man.  We met for drinks at his apartment first, before dinner.  Sitting on his couch, mid-conversation, mid-sentence even!, he leaned over and put his mouth on mine in a slightly insistent (and not all that great) kiss.  I was more shocked than anything at the time.  Yes, I had agreed to a date, but that didn't automatically mean (forcing) a kiss, let alone in the first 20 minutes!  I didn't like the kiss, and then I still had to suffer through the rest of the date.

I thought of my stalker and our original coffee meet-up/non-date.

And through all of this, and telling some of the briefest bits of these insights to a couple of friends, I tried not to cry at my desk at work.  On my birthday, no less!

I thought back to the old days of the Internet and some of the BDSM forums, trying to extricate myself from people I clearly wasn't interested in but had made the mistake of being "nice" to.

I didn't (and don't) want any of that again.  I didn't (and don't) want to be accused of leading anyone on2.  I didn't want to "swipe right" unless I was absolutely sure I could "follow through" (with what?  what the fuck does that even mean??) -- and that's not how these apps are designed, even the ones that are designed for more than just random hook-ups.

And that's when I realized I'm not ready for this yet.  That's a lot of baggage to unpack, mostly (though certainly not only) due to toxic masculinity.

Everything is still too new, my heartbreak too fresh; I'm still too tender and bruised.

One thing about the person who did break my heart:  I felt very safe with and around them, both physically and emotionally.  There was very little holding back of feelings and words, the freedom of which was exhilarating.
-- up until the moment they broke my heart, of course.  That almost goes without saying.

So today I messaged two of the five "matches" I had made3 and basically said, "Sorry, I'm not ready for this dating thing; I did enjoy your profile."  And then I made my profile "private" again.
I didn't owe them that (or anything), but in addition to not wanting to be rude, I might want to find them again when/if I return to the wide, wide world of online dating.

But Jesus H. Christ!  Who would have thought that one free app and sitting on the toilet alone with my thoughts would bring to light so. many. issues.

And I don't just mean with me.

I mean with our society that has instilled such fear in me -- a forty-year-old woman -- making me too paralyzed to "swipe right."




1I have emailed the Bumble staff about that; rather, I put down that I'm interested in both men and women, yet I'm only getting men's profiles.  The only way I've been able to see women's profiles is if I change it to women only.

2One of the things I appreciate about Bumble is that men can't initiation conversations.  At. All.  Once a "match" has been made, the woman has 24 hours to start a conversation (another conundrum/source of stress for me -- the time limit!).  After that, the "match" disappears.  If both people are same-sex, either can initiate conversation.

3Only if both people have "swiped right," will you both be alerted that a "match" has been made.  So far only 5 of us had done so.  But for my ego boost, Bumble kept showing me the number of people who had already "swiped right" for me, offering to show those profiles first (if I upgraded the app and paid them money).  That number was last at 50+.  Yay me.

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Ode to Someone's Spouse

How long
will you
continue
to hold on
to the decaying
infrastructure?

Why do
you
insist
on
squeezing
so tightly
to something
that's crumbling?

You will
only
be left
with dust.

Sunday, August 12, 2018

I Saw the Sign

The owl came back!

So the artist formerly known as my Unit1 and I were sitting outside on the patio steps again around 8 p.m. when Dogzilla raced straight across the yard to the back.  Sure enough, the owl was back because we saw her/him/them raise wings and effortlessly move to the right, out of Dogzilla's charge.

And we both oohed and ahhed.

And as before I immediately put the circus dog back inside (at just 13 lbs. he may very look like food to an ambitious bird of prey), and Dogzilla came bounding back to us with that look of, "OMG YOU GUYS DID YOU SEE THAT!?"

We went inside; I refilled my drink and immediately went back out to see if the owl would come back, but not before yelling down the stairs to my bird-nerd sister that "THE OWL IS BACK!"  Within moments of being outside again, s/he landed on the neighbor's swing set.  Bird-Nerd-Sister came outside quietly armed with binoculars.

We stayed out there for well over an hour, watching as the owl moved around, trying to hunt something on the lawn; sometimes s/he was very close to where we were sitting (well, close as far as I was concerned).  S/he is also still a big fan of the power line from the night before.  At one point s/he was "just walking on the tightrope," per my sister; there was a large tree in my view, but I could see the line bouncing a bit as the owl strutted.

We did, of course, take a moment to raise our glass to her/him/them.  Salut.

And because we are sisters, we argued a bit.
Bird-Nerd-Sister: "It's not a barn owl. It's definitely not a snowy. It's not a long-eared owl."
Me: (muttering) "Owls don't have ears."
BNS: "They do, too! They have holes in the side of their head for hearing."
Me: "Those are ear holes, not ears" (about to launch into the differences between seals and sea lions, including ear holes versus ear flaps)
BNS: "What kind of owl is it??"
Me: "You are asking the wrong-ass person." (beat) "What if it's here to give us our letters to Hogwart's??"
BNS: (laughing quietly)
Me: (hissing in owl's general direction) "You're late!"
BNS: (laughing more) "Here I thought we were going to argue about whose letter it was going to deliver, and you're busy sayin' 'bish, you're late.'"
And as before, when it got completely dark, the street lamp from across the way would catch the underside of the owl's wings and their breast feathers, especially during those brief flights.
Me: (soon insisting we refer to the owl as "she")
BNS: "As much as I hate to say it, it's probably a he. It's pretty small, and females are bigger."
Me: "Maybe it's a really small type of owl, and she's actually quite large."
Me: (happy gasp at another view of wings and light) "Oooh, it's like the opening of Labyrinth!" (another gasp) "What if it's the spirit of David Bowie??"
BNS: "That's it. I'm calling it 'Bowie' from now on."
Eventually my Bird-Nerd-Sister went inside, and I said aloud, "Well, it's just you and me, owl."  By the time I extinguished both of the citronella torches, Bowie had made it to the power line, the fence line, and then grass to my left (just beyond the torch I had just extinguished).  When I finally went inside (out of wine), they were back on the power line with no intention of going anywhere.

I may be the unofficial Queen of Small Animals, but birds are usually the exception.  If you know me at all, you know that I don't usually get along with birds, nor they with me.  The feeling is entirely mutual.  As I told my former Unit, I don't interact with Nature often, but when I do, it's always adventurous (read: "disastrous") and occasionally just a tiny bit awesome and magical.

And the former Unit commented earlier on all of the birds we've seen lately.  First, there was the hawk several times over a week or so.  "Hawks are messengers," she said.  "But I wasn't getting the message."

Then, within a day of our separation, there was the hummingbird.  Sometimes she saw it, once my sister saw it, but many times (like four times in two days), it was just me.  "Hummingbirds mean joy," she said.

And now the owl -- wisdom.

It may not seem like that big of a deal to you, but keep in mind all of these encounters have happened in the past month or so.  And frankly, a hummingbird?  In the Midwest?!?  I've never seen one outside of California before.

I'm not always one to believe in real-life "signs" and symbolism, but when the former Unit listed them outright like that, I had a shiver go up my spine, despite the summer heat.





1We are in the process of separating.

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

Things Great and Small

My train of thought is a weaving, waving bit of transportation, but sometimes I end up at the depot of "How Would I Teach This (If I Were Still Teaching)?"  Last night's excursion went something like this.  Bear with me down this rabbit hole...

I am currently reading Starless by Jacqueline Carey (highly recommend!) and was thinking of how much I'm enjoying it.  And then I immediately compared it to another book I'm reading:  Homer's IliadThe Iliad is keeping my attention a lot less than Carey's novel, and so I got to thinking about why.  I never had to teach (or read) The Iliad, but I did teach classic Greek plays and Beowulf, and my goal was always to get my students to make connections between these ancient "classics" and contemporary literature, TV, film, pop culture, etc. because many of the elements of storytelling, of tragedy, of comedy, remain the same.  So how could I teach something like The Iliad if even I wasn't liking it?

So of course I went to asking students what they like about things they read and watch right now (particularly in the sci-fi/fantasy genre).  When I've taught, this is the section where they just get to shout things out loud and I get to write on the board (writing on the board was a huge reason why I started teaching in the first place).

  • Epic
    • maybe meaning large scale, like creating entire worlds
    • maybe meaning giant, impressive battles
  • Attention to detail
    • So much food!
    • Fashion!
    • [more on attention to detail/world-building later in a wholly different blog post]
  • Great deeds
    • swords and dragons and rescuing people from monsters
    • saving people from famine, being a voice for the downtrodden
And then I thought about The Lord of the Rings (frankly, when don't I think of LotR?).  While I will always contend that Jackson's adaptations of the trilogy are fairly faithful, incredibly well done interpretations of Tolkien's text (FIGHT ME!), there is one large, huge almost (pun intended; wait for it) difference:  Jackson's films have some beautiful, "epic" even, battle sequences.  I'll never forget the intense anxiety and fear I felt watching the battle in the mines of Moria for the first time on the big screen ("They've got a cave troll!").  There were so few of the Fellowship and so, so many of them, the orcs and goblins.  [Sidenote:  what is it about attempting to barricade a door against an oncoming horde that gives me palpitations?]  And at least four of "ours" were so very, very small.  Literally.  Small and woefully unprepared for battle of any kind.

And therein lies the difference.

Tolkien purposely did not write an epic heroic adventure filled with the usual heroes -- strapping swordsmen cutting a swath through the fray.  No, his heroes were two very small, very usual hobbits.  And while the battles do happen in the books, they often feel removed from the main action, almost in the background.  Because the main action is that of our two small heroes doing an awful lot of walking.  Seriously.  So, so much walking.  And then more walking.
(And occasionally breaking into song.)
Then we walk some more!

Because Tolkien's point (in addition to attempting to create a mythology specifically for Britain) was that small, "normal" folk can do epic things.  People who aren't martially trained, people with no talent for statecraft can accomplish things simply through virtue of being themselves with their own points of view.  They'll not come out of it the same as they went in, of course, because this is still a hero's journey (and that is the foremost marker of a hero's journey:  change), but they're a different kind of hero altogether.

And I think that, both in Tolkien and in other pieces of literature, touches on the very heart of human existence:  we want to do great things -- not just good things, but great things.  We want to complete a great quest, we want to bring salvation to a group of people, we want to be a hero of some kind.  But we are also so very small and normal, walking around in these very fragile bags of skin and water.  So the bringing together of the great and small like that is something we all hope to achieve, being able to accomplish these things just by being ourselves (and, apparently, doing a lot of walking; even hobbits have to do cardio).

And while I was sitting outside on the steps of my patio last night, with a drink and a cigarette, having these thoughts about things great and small, Dogzilla turned and rushed in the darkness to attack something.  It was an owl.  I know it was an owl because, thanks to a street lamp, I could see her/him/they outstretch their wings and silently, gracefully lift up and away from Dogzilla's reach, effortlessly, like pulling silk backwards.
Sorry, Dogzilla, but you are neither hobbit nor orc in this scenario; you are meddling mankind, and the owl is Gandalf.  And the wisdom of wizards (and owls) is always just out of reach.

Prosaic Little Epilogue:  As soon as the owl was out of sight, I scooped up my tiny circus dog and put him inside.  And Dogzilla soon followed.  And then I refilled my glass of Prosecco and went back outside to see if the owl would return.

In a few moments, there was a flicker of movement out of the corner of my left eye; the owl had landed upon the power line running between my house and the next.  That same street light reflected just the tiniest bit off of the owl's lighter-colored breast feathers.  That and those first occasional flutters of movement were the only way I could tell the owl was there.
[When you've worked around animals for years, you learn to not look directly at them, but to look towards the center and use what we Viewpoints actors call "soft focus" -- let your gaze relax; the periphery opens just a bit further, and then pay attention to the movement that happens.  Ask me about the ways to see "hard to find" zoo animals!]
So I continued to sit there, drinking and smoking, attempting to make my movements smooth and slow so as to not disturb her/him/them.  It wouldn't have mattered.  S/he was far enough away that I wasn't a threat and I'm fairly certain they gave zero fucks about me.  Sometimes I even reached for my wine glass to my right without looking, not wanting to lose sight of them in the darkness (and my very poor eyesight, particularly in the dark) as nearly any and all movement had stopped.  At one point I raised my glass to them.  Salut.

I stayed out in the sweltering heat as long as I could (over 90 degrees after 9 p.m.!), through two cigarettes and down to the dregs of my wine and finally went inside.  The owl didn't move.  After I was inside, I looked out the giant dining room window at the power line, but due to the angle, I couldn't see if s/he was still there.  And then I went to bed, dare I say somewhat peacefully.
Salut.


Goddess Artwork by Emily Balivet

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Avengers: Infinity War (A Review of Sorts)

This is chock-full of spoilers, bitches!

So stop reading now if you've not yet seen the film.

Seriously, I mean it.

One last warning, compliments of the Merc with the Mouth


This isn't a review so much as a collection thoughts during and after the movie, with little to no context.
  • OMG, seriously?!?  LOKI DIDN'T EVEN MAKE IT TO FIRST TITLE CARD!
    • I didn't even have time to find my feelings.
    • Fuck, and Idris Elba, too?
  • "C'mon, you're embarrassing me in front of the wizards."
  • C'mon, don't make him shoot you!  That was fucking heartbreaking.
  • THEY NEVER EXPLAINED WHY SHE WAS BLONDE.
    • With all that trauma, they could have at least addressed this issue.  Leonard has a vested interested (read: "pleather body suit") in continuing a redheaded Black Widow.
  • Am I a horrible person because I didn't cry at Gamora's death?
    • I was too angry that she didn't fucking figure it out!  As soon as Agent Red Skull Elrond said "sacrifice something you love," I knew where this was going.
    • In fact, it took me longer to figure out where she was going with her point.
    • Sure it's a twisted love, but he loved her nonetheless.
  • Am I a horrible person that I agree with 99% of Thanos' theory? In theory, that is.  And I like that he says it is/would be completely random, without regards to money, society, politics, etc.  But it's a bit different seeing it happen to people you care about.
    • And if they are just disintegrating, that's not all that bad ("mercy," like he said); it's those left behind who have been "spared" who get the worse end of the deal.
  • What's with Thanos' bubble fetish?

I stopped writing this bullet point list some time ago, and now I can't remember where I was going with it.  All in all, the film was very upsetting.  I'm not masochistic enough to see it again (until it's released on DVD).

I'll leave you with the saddest meme of them all:
Image compliment of rickybaby


Friday, June 8, 2018

Regarding Suicide

As another celebrity suicide hits the front page (may you be at peace, Anthony Bourdain), my various social media feeds are filling up with friends posting numbers, hotlines, and general messages of support and love, in particular saying "you are loved."

And sometimes I find that baffling.  Let me explain.

I'm not untouched by suicide:  I've lost both a dear friend and a dear friend's husband to it.  Not to mention, of course, my own attempts at it.  And when these messages pop up, they give me pause.

Because I don't think I have ever once, not during my attempts or any of the many suicidal thoughts that flit through my head, thought, "I want to kill myself because no one loves me."  In fact, I don't think I think of other people at all.  And maybe that's the point.


Please don't misunderstand.  I am only one mentally ill individual, and even people with the same mental diagnoses can have vastly different experiences of the disease.  I can only speak for myself and my own broken brain in this case.

In my case, when those thoughts come creeping in, it's because of endless hours of simply existing, of surviving.  There's a Jane Austen quote, of all people, that sums it up for me:  "Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings" (Mansfield Park).  Now replace "quick" with "endless," and that's often how I feel.  And I think, How am I going to get through this?  This week?  This day?  These next two hours?  Sometimes days just seem to stretch on and on forever, with me just hanging there in a continual state of ennui.  And it is exhausting.

But I don't think of the rest of you.  I don't think No one loves me.  Or Everyone hates me.  I don't think about what people might think or do or say when/if I'm gone.  I don't think of other people at all.  Suicidal thoughts are a profoundly solitary activity.  I simply think of not being able to handle the burden of living anymore, of finding ways to fill up all of that awful space and time.

The only time I do think of people outside of myself is the occasional passing thought that there are people out there who have "normal" lives.  There are people out there who don't wake up every morning hating every fucking thing.  What is that like??  There are people out there who go through twenty-four hours feeling fine, if not great, even physically, not wracked with constant pain, aches, and fatigue.  There are people out there who, when asked, "How are you?" they say, "Great!" and they actually mean it.

That blows my fucking mind.

I know "How are you?" is a greeting, not a real question of my state of things, which is why I usually respond with "Fine" or "Okay."  Because you know what?  I don't ever, nor will I ever, feel "good" or "great," and I find it hard to lie.  So yeah, the most you'll get out of me on a daily basis is "fine" or "okay" or even "meh."  And sometimes even that is a stretch.

A good friend (who shall remain nameless) recently said to me, "Sometimes you seem so unhappy, and I can never quite figure out why."
And I responded with:  "It's called being mentally ill.  It's part of my DNA, my chemical make-up.  This is just how things are."

I know it may not seem like it.  With my theatre and my shoe fetish and my love of kittehs, but it's there.  And it never goes away.  Most days are a struggle of some kind.

But it's not because I don't think people love me.  It's because my cells are constantly tired of existing and my brain lies to me about why I'm here and what's going on, and it's an uphill battle every day to convince my body and head otherwise.



Monday, April 30, 2018

Ghostbusters: Answer the Call (A Review)

I finally saw the 2016 Ghostbusters movie this weekend.  And ya know what?  I liked it.  It was fun; I laughed.

I didn't read much of the criticism (legitimate and otherwise) when it first came out, other than perusing headlines, because
  1. I hadn't seen the movie yet
  2. I didn't have any immediate plans to see the movie
  3. I try not to critique things I haven't actually read/seen/watched/experienced.
It did strike me, even before Leslie Jones' character's entrance in the film, that why does the black woman have to be the non-scientist?  If you have the opportunity to "reboot" or "do over" a film to include women and have more diversity, why go that route?  On the other hand, I realize that when pitching this project, it was probably as "a Ghostbusters film for Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon, Kirsten Wiig, and Leslie Jones" rather than "a women-led Ghostbusters reboot."  The difference between the two is that when a project already has a star (or stars) in mind, it's written and tailored for them; rather than a project that might have open auditions with at least one goal of having a more diverse cast.

That said, I have met, known, and interacted with many women like Jones' "Patty" in all kinds of professions, everything from public transit like Patty to academia to corporate overlords, and maybe they want the representation, too.  Patty herself was one of my favorite parts of the film and had many of the best lines.

I feel like the film addressed many of its criticisms head-on directly through the script in almost meta-textual fashion, including the race/diversity issue with Jones' character.  Case in point:  the scene at the metal rock concert when Patty goes to crowdsurf like Abby does.  The crowd does not hold her up; she falls flat on her back on the hard floor.  And I winced, both at the physical impact and at the implication.
And then Patty said it for me:  "Okay, I don't know if it was a race thing or a lady thing, but I'm mad as hell."
Exactly, Patty.

And there's more.  When Abby tells Erin to read a specific comment on their first ghost video:  "Ain't no bitches gonna hunt no ghosts."  Yeah, pretty sure that could have come directly from any one of the press releases when this reboot was announced.

And, of course, when Dr. Martin Heiss shows up to the team's "office" and demands to know, in all of his white male privilege, "Why are you pretending to capture ghosts?"  As if to say, "how dare you attempt to do this thing?" which is what many of the "critics" have said all along.  And Abby and Erin both have the two reactions we tend to have to such a thing:  to prove ourselves imprudently and to attempt to not "lower ourselves" to their level.

For me, the movie as a whole shows what we women have to put up with on a daily basis, no matter our profession:  the constant questioning, how-dare-you-ing, the automatic assumption/requirement that we must prove ourselves, constantly and continually, and even then the majority of people (not just mean, though largely so) still do not believe us, give us credit, respect us in our own fields.  Every. Fucking. Day.  And, again, Abby and Erin display the two major reactions we women to have that continual questioning (neither of which are "right" or "wrong," they're just the most common).

So yeah, I liked it.  I recognized a lot of those experiences -- minus the paranormal part.  Well, mostly minus the paranormal stuff, but that's a different story.

Other things I liked (in usual Leonard bullet point style):
  • The cameos!  So much fun, even the building cameos and ghost cameos.  By the way, where was Rick Moranis?
    • And how the O.G. firehouse is super expensive rather than looking like a "de-militarized" zone.  
  • How many different ways can we not say "Ghostbusters"?  I really enjoyed the little wink and  nudge at the original movie(s) without actually saying it: from the bits with the logo, to the theme music, to managing to say "who you gonna call?" out of context.  That was cheeky and fun.
    • Really LOL'd at "Ghost Jumpers" TV show -- mostly because my Unit and I refer to one of our favorite ghost shows (that we used to watch all the time) as "Ghost Humpers."
  • In fact, lots of different "points" to the original movie without being too on the nose; example:  if they had gotten the firehouse building right off the bat, that would have been too much.  If they had also said some of the favorite, quotable lines from the first movie (in similar contexts), it wouldn't have worked.
  • I liked the fact that 1) it was not an attempt to recreate a shot-for-shot O.G. movie, simply putting in women instead of men as the lead roles.  This is its own film and should be enjoyed as such.
  • I especially appreciated the fact that not one of the female characters was attempting to be "the girl version" of Murray's, Aykroyd's, Ramis', and/or Hudson's characters.  Sure, there were nods to them:  Holtzmann's crazy hair is reminiscent not necessarily of Harold Ramis' Egon, but the Egon in the cartoon (remember that thing?), and yeah, both Patty and Zeddmore are black and non-scientists.  But that's kind of where it ends, and I like that.  These women are their own characters and not stuck to the molds the O.G. guys created.
Little Leonard watched this every Saturday morning.
  • Chris Hemsworth a.k.a "Kevin" -- that was fun.  And weird and dorky and fun.
    • Speaking of weird, some bits with Kevin show that certain type of humor that occasionally devolves into absurdist (you can see it in The Unbreakable Kimmie Schmidt as well, especially the first few episodes of Season 2).  There is no "why" or "reason" for many of his quirks (like the eyeglass thing!).  They simply are and there is no other tie-in to the joke or punchline; it simply is.  Thankfully in this script, they did not get too heavy-handed with that type of humor (I don't usually care for it).
I don't think I had the same visceral reactions many other women had to watching this movie, similar to some of the visceral reactions many women had seeing Wonder Woman on the big screen as well:  those reactions that brings tears to one's eyes seeing a dream made real.  But I think that has less to do with either film (I didn't have that reaction to WW myself) and more to do with the fact that Leonard is dead inside.  I also think my reactions go the route of being able to see something and enjoy it and not have the immediate reaction of "Where are all the women?" or "Why is this all straight white dudes?"  It's more an absence of my reaction/frustration with the patriarchy than a reaction to seeing women on screen.  And that's still a good thing.  (Plus also, dead inside.)

Quotable Quotes:  One of the things many of us enjoy about the first two Ghostbusters films are the things we can quote for them.  So I tried to think of what quotes stuck with me from this movie -- unfortunately, not too many right off the bat, but perhaps more will make themselves apparent on subsequent viewings.  In the meantime:

  • The power of Patty compels you!
  • Too sexy for academia?
  • Room full of nightmares right there.
  • Ma'am, can you tell us where you got the world's tiniest bow tie?
In conclusion...
I also want to dress like Holtzmann, particularly the leather jacket, the little leather fingerless gloves, the smoking jacket, and the lady-suit complete with vest.  And I'm fairly certain given enough time and hairspray, I can get my hair to look like that.  Just not blonde.  Leonard does not make a good blonde.
Tangent:  I find it interesting that they approximated the look of an undercut without actually cutting/shaving her hair, which she probably didn't want to do.

Monday, March 26, 2018

Feelin' Good

Sometimes you just have a good audition.  I mean, you feel good about it.  It's not a matter of "Yeah, I nailed it!" but a matter of feeling incredibly satisfied with whatever you did in that room for those five or ten or fifteen or twenty minutes.

I had one of those yesterday.

And the experience reminded me of a callback for a Shakespeare show I had a few years back.  Despite having a Master's degree in English, Shakespeare is not my forte; in fact, I've only done four Shakespeare shows in my 30-plus years of acting -- and that's including a high school production of Macbeth.

During that callback (for a queen!), the director asked me to use my lower register and diaphragm and really let my voice resonate in the space during the queenly monologue.

And I did.

And it. Felt. Fantastic.

Very powerful -- hearing those words ringing in my ears and bouncing off of the rafters in the room.

I didn't get cast in that show; I'm not sure I could have even done the show if I wanted to due to scheduling conflicts.  But that callback is one of the first in recent memory that I felt good about what I did, and I knew I'd continue to feel good about it, no matter the casting outcome.

I didn't necessarily think, "Oh, I'm totally getting that part!" or "I nailed it!"  But I felt immensely satisfied with what had transpired in those few minutes.

And that happened again yesterday.  It was ugly and real and raw, and I feel good about it.

That is all.  Carry on.

Obligatory cat meme

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

The Difference a Preposition Makes

In case you hadn't noticed, I've been on a bit of a k.d. lang kick lately.
"Kick," "small obsession," tomato, to-mah-to.

I've even taken to listening to some songs while I fall asleep.  There's nothing quite like hearing her say, "Sleep, silent angel / Go to sleep" in my ear as I do just that.

Those lyrics are from "The Air That I Breathe," and when singing along (in the car, not in bed) as I am wont to do, I realized I was singing a line wrong.  I was singing, "Making love to you / Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired."  But that's incorrect.

The actual lyric is: "Making love with you / Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired."

Just one small preposition mix-up, but it makes a world of difference in the song and when using the phrase in life.  And I was briefly stunned when I realized the difference.  To make love "to" someone makes the other person a rather passive participant in the love-making.  But making love with someone -- that's entirely different.  That's two people engaged in a (fun, wonderful) activity together.

So thank you, k.d. lang, for writing the difference.

Breaking News Update:  While finishing this post, I discovered that lang did not write this song/these lyrics.  The Hollies did in 1972.  All of the songs from her Drag CD are covers, actually.  So I guess I should be thanking The Hollies...but I think I'll stick with k.d. because see above:  "obsession."


Monday, March 19, 2018

Concert List

I mentioned earlier that I can count on one hand the concerts I've been to.  Here's the list, FYI:

  • Bangles & Mr. Mister (Nebraska State Fair, 1986)
  • GWAR (Mississippi Nights, 1996)
  • Sheryl Crow (Fabulous Fox, 1997)
  • Fast Ball, Goo Goo Dolls, Sugar Ray (Riverport Amphitheatre, 1999)
  • Train, Matchbox 20 (Riverport Amphitheatre, 2001 -- their first concert, post 9/11).
  • Diana Krall & Chris Botti (Fabulous Fox, 2007)
  • k.d. lang (Peabody, 2018)
I've made it on to two hands now -- woohoo!

Why has Leonard gone to so few concerts?  See any of the many posts regarding anxiety, panic attacks, depression, mental health, mental illness, and/or not liking people or crowds or crowds of people.  Leonard was fairly wee at that very first concert (8 years old) and nearly got trampled, so maybe that influenced everything else down the road?

As it stands, it would have to be someone I really like to get me to a giant stadium concert.  I adore P!nk, and she was just in town, but I did not go.  It never strikes me as something that I "can" do; like, I never even entertain the possibility.

3 different times in my life I've been offered Melissa Etheridge tickets (and I would have made an exception for her!), and all three times, I had rehearsal.


Saturday, March 17, 2018

Ingenue

Trying to write this while the memory is still fresh.  Should preface with the fact that I can probably count on one hand the number of concerts I've been to, so I don't have a lot of experience with them.

Opening Act:  The Gregoryan Brothers from Australia.  Two adorably nerdy Australian brothers playing classical guitar, which I enjoyed immensely.  Some of it I found very soothing (which is a good thing), other pieces involved drumming on the guitar which was very cool, and one piece I said to my friend, "This suddenly has a Ren Faire vibe."  After that piece, they mentioned it was a fantasy on a theme by an Elizabethan composer.
Me & Friend: "Aha!"
Me:  "Ren Faire!"
 I bought their CD in between acts, and they were in the lobby signing them, so I got that, too.  Sidenote:  this venue only had one dude working the merchandise table, all by himself!  Don't know if that was venue or Ms. lang's tour's doing, but either way, a poor decision.

The Main Gig:  Aaaahhhhhh!  Not sure I can do much more than squeal with joy.  In getting these tickets, I realized that k.d. lang was one of my first gay crushes, long before I think I even realized my own queerness.  I just remember being attracted to and fascinated by her and her androgyny.  In listening to her perform live, I wish I had been more familiar with the Ingenue album when I was coming out as there were a couple of songs that nearly had me in tears.

The Set:  Maybe this is typical for concerts, especially those in smaller, more intimate venues (not giant stadiums), but I freakin' loved this set!  My friend snapped a pic of it below.  The blue velvet curtains (which later changed color, so maybe they weren't actually blue, but lit to be blue at first), the candle-looking lights which of course changed.  Not only did I love it, but I was impressed and fascinated by the changes.  Lighting design is something I've never worked on, so my mind was whirling with questions like "Who decides when and what?  Does k.d. lang have input?  Does she make someone stand in her place on stage so she can view it from the house?"

She is performing barefoot!  *swoon*

Good lighting (and sound design) should always enhance a show, but not necessarily be noticeable.  The way this lighting design worked was subtle, but I see you, design director!  Well done, sir/madam!  We were eased into it with more basic light changes (usually those ones that look like candles inside drums), mostly to the beat of the music.  The changes and and colors and goboes increased as the show went on, then faded back out to more basic designs towards the end of the show.  lang's show isn't necessarily about set & lighting, but as a theatre nerd, I watch these things.

Back to the Main Gig:  Hot damn, girl has some amazing breath control!  She can still belt out and also croon out those long, sustained notes -- be still, my heart!  And she's funny!  Not that I doubted it, but I love a good personality, and she clearly isn't taking anything too seriously.  To quote my friend, "There's definitely a bit of 'cheesy lounge singer' in her show."
Me:  "Yes, and I LOVE IT!"

And I do.

Her band is awesome as well, and she gives them their due with solos and introductions; they've clearly worked out a comfortable arrangement, working together as one organism.

I don't really know what else to say as I don't usually go to concerts, let alone review them, except that I had a blast!  And hearing her sing "Hallelujah" (one of my all-time favorite songs) was, well, like a religious experience.  And now I need to buy ALL THE SONGS (and perhaps work some into my cabaret project).  Maybe this is a turning point for me; I may go to more concerts (in smaller venues) in the future...

Lookit that grin!  She's gonna charm the pants off ya.
k.d.lang's website



Friday, February 2, 2018

Beauty & the Beast: A Review

Well, maybe not so much a review as a collection of bullet points of things I said aloud whilst watching this movie the other night.

  • Oh hey, a multiracial cast!  Nice.
    • (Although only 2 of the main named characters were POC)
  • YAS AUDRA!
  • Ooh, I like the dancing.
    • In fact, I appreciated the attempt to give a wee bit more (pseudo)historical background in the film, except
    • The fabulous opening sequence sets us up for an over-the-top experience, nearly cartoonish without being a cartoon -- and that's not a bad thing.  The attempt to give some historical context is at odds with that; you can do one or the other filmmakers, but you can't really do both (at least not well).
  • Nice addition to the Prologue about everyone in town "forgetting" about castle and its servants; it fixes one of the major plot holes of the animated film, namely:  how the fuck do you not notice a giant creepy castle right next door?!?
  • Holy fucking Autotuning, Batman!
    • I nearly turned the movie off, but a friend said the Autotuning wasn't as bad as the film progressed.  BUT GOOD GODDAMN.
  • Oh, Bard.  I'm disappointed in you.
  • So now the bookseller is...a priest?  That's an odd choice.
    • Upon further reflection, if she's the only one in town who likes to read, then a bookseller wouldn't be able to make a living; having a person who just happens to have a wee library from which she can borrow makes a bit of sense.  But it felt weird to have a sudden injection of religion, never to be addressed.
    • And the priest gave her Romeo & Juliet to read??  Odd choice.
  • Oh Josh Gad.  You make me laugh.
  • Kevin Kline is a national treasure.
  • *Belle picks up a stick as a weapon*  Oh, girl, that's not a wand.
  • I'm not sure how I feel about Ewan McGregor with a French dialect.
  • Oh dear God!  What kind of dialect is that for Mrs. Potts??  It's sounds awful and fake!  Who the fuck did they cast?  *looks it up*  Ohhh, Emma Thompson.  What have you done?  I'm not angry, just very disappointed.
  • Wait, so the feather duster is a peacock?  Err, a peacock-shaped feather duster??  Je suis confus.
  • So if we're gonna add new songs, why not include "Home" from the Broadway version?  It's very pretty.
    • Reflection:  well, if Hermione can't handle the easy notes of the opening number, there's no way she could handle "Home."
  • They're all peacock feather dusters/showgirls?  What happened to the dancing napkins?
    • *angry sniff as I played a dancing napkin in the stage version*
  • They cut our favorite line!!!  *throws movie across the room*
    • "You've got a library?"
    • "With books!"
  • So the prince/Beast was a spoiled brat because his father abused him?
    • I found this extra background on the Beast largely unnecessary.  Why can't he just have been a spoiled douche like the 1991 film said?  Why do we have to blame parents we never meet?  It just opens up more questions and doesn't really resolve anything.
    • It does attempt to explain why the servants were cursed along with him (because they "did nothing"), but clumsily and unsatisfactorily.
  • I don't understand the reason behind changing/adding lyrics to the existing songs, especially in "Gaston."
  • Speaking of unnecessary changes/additions:  Bard and Olaf take Kevin Kline out into the woods and tie him to a tree?  And then a "hag" (but not really) saves him and he confronts them about leaving him to die and THEN they try to sentence him to an insane asylum??  Super unnecessary and it robbed Olaf of another bit of song.
    • Truly, he was underutilized in this movie.
  • I'm not sure how I feel about the Beast just happening to show Belle the library as opposed to presenting it as a gift he (well, the servants, really) know(s) she'll like.
    • I guess that's what happens when you CUT MY FAVORITE LINE!
  • The "trip to Paris"/childhood home scene also felt unnecessary.
  • YAS QUEEN!  You wear that Marie Antoinette drag!
  • A friend of mine said they enjoyed Bard's performance as Gaston, that when he needed to be dark, he got dark.
    • Disagree.  I mean, he did fine, but the animated Gaston, when he starts mocking the Beast and looks rather crazed, is far scarier, in my opinion.  Bard's Gaston is a little one-note.
  • Belle and the Beast's reuniting felt...anticlimactic?  Maybe Hermione and Cousin Matthew just didn't have any real acting chemistry together?
  • One change from the animated film that I did appreciate:  when all of the castle's staff slowly began changing to objects permanently.  That was heart-breaking and very well done.
  • Olaf and the drag guy from before (I think?) dancing together at the end.  Brief, but I appreciate it.
All in all, I like the original animated version much better.  This had some nice touches, but I feel like this movie wasn't sure what it wanted to be; it ended up trying to be two or three different things, but doing none of them well.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

School for Sidekicks: A Review

School for SidekicksSchool for Sidekicks by Kelly McCullough
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book is fun and a fairly easy read. It definitely could be classified as "Young Adult" lit. I liked it just fine, although there's nothing particularly outstanding to write home about. #SPOILER -- STOP READING HERE



McCullough does [eave plenty of room for a sequel or three as there is no real resolution, not to the major issue at hand. That said, there's barely a resolution to many of the smaller issues. That's not necessarily a bad thing; not everything has to be wrapped up neatly in a bow.


If you have a day to spare and like superheroes, give it a try.
A quote I highlighted (and good to know):  "for the record, fresh scabweb tastes like condensed essence of armpit."

View all my reviews

Friday, January 26, 2018

On the Fence about Train

In the epic debate of Train versus Maroon 5, I am firmly on the side of Train.  I have already documented Maroon 5's history of disturbing, misogynistic lyrics.  And I've liked Train since their early "Meet Virginia" days.  It's a fun, quirky song.  And then they had "Drops of Jupiter" -- still quirky, but possibly with more meaning to it.  And we can't forget "Soul Sister."  It literally has a refrain of Leonard's uncle's band -- what's not to like?  And "Save Me, San Francisco"?  Fantastic.  Hell, Train has even put out wines with names that complement their songs, and even my mother-in-law enjoys them.

But sometimes,....sometimes Pat Monaghan and the gang really test my loyalty.  I have to wonder if the Train boys sometimes think, "Hey, I wonder what would happen if we took X and added Z, but then did Y?"  Like, they purposely set out to riff off of another song, but not quite.  Music isn't algebra, friends.  And just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.  Case in point:  Train's "50 Ways to Say Goodbye."

The title clearly indicates that this is their "version" of Paul Simon's "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" (or "love your lever," as the Muppets prefer it); however, while Simon's song is about leaving/breaking up, Train's song takes a darker turn (despite an attempt at levity) by documenting all the different way to say said ex-lover died:
She went down in an airplane
Fried getting suntan
Fell in a cement mixer full of quicksand
Help me, help me, I'm no good at goodbyes!
She met a shark under water
Fell and no one caught her
So, not exactly a family-friendly interpretation of Paul Simon's classic, I guess.  But it gets worse because now we have to talk about the actual music.

Using our algebra problem from before, it goes something like this:  "Let's take 'Phantom of the Opera,' add a mariachi band, and then 'pay homage' to Paul Simon's song!"  If you don't believe me, here is the actual sheet music for comparison:

Up first, Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera" from my "Easy Piano" book from high school (stop judging me!):

I know it's a little hard to read, but I did highlight the notes for you.  In the key of D minor (one flat), we have:

  • A
  • D
  • A
  • C
  • B flat
  • B flat
And now the Train music (most of which is previews because I wasn't willing to buy an entire song just for the exercise of this blog post):
We definitely nailed the mariachi part as it's even noted here (marked inred). Again, I highlighted the notes for you, in the key of Eb Minor:
  • B
  • E
  • B
  • B
  • C
  • C
  • A
  • D
  • A
  • A
  • B
  • B
The music theory scholars among you (which I am absolutely note) will probably already notice the similarities.  But we can transpose the music (thanks again, MusicNotes.com!) and get, well, the exact same listing at the ALW song:


And it really gets going when ALW gets to the lyrics "And do I dream again? For now I find" and Pat sings "You said it's meant to be / That it's not you, it's me / You're leaving now for my own good."  

Okay, fine, it's not the exact same notes as there are some minor differences1 (pun intended), but if you don't listen to the Train song and not want to singing "The Phaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaantom OfTheOperaIsHeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere," I don't know what to do with you.


But that's not all.  Then Train came out with another pop-y song that had a distinct 1960s bubble-gum sound to it.  And I couldn't quite place it...



Oh fuck me, it's "Heart & Soul"!!!  We all learned to play it fairly soon in our (however short-lived) piano-playing careers, especially after this scene came out in 1988:


C'mon, Train!  That just seems like you were out of fucks to give and again decided to play musical algebra.  And I might be willing to forgive if the lyrics were interesting or clever.  But:
Play that song
The one that makes me go all night long
The one that makes me think of you
That's all you gotta do
Hey, mister DJ when you gonna spin it
My baby's favorite record she been waiting for a minute
She invited all her friends and I'm buying all the rounds
And they're all dolled up
DJ please don't let me down
When you gonna play that song, now
When you gonna earn that pay
When you gonna play that song and make my day
I'm gonna go ahead and ignore the sexual connotations of "makes me go all night long" for now and move on to the horrible position he's putting the DJ in.  It's cool to request songs, but when you start badgering the DJ to play the song(s) you want, they will put you at the bottom of the list real quick (if not ignore you altogether).

It's not his/her fault you apparently are trying to impress your girlfriend and her friends with...what?  Your relationship with the DJ?  If you really want to impress her, you could try playing (actual) music yourself, rather than relying on a DJ to do your dirty work.  Y'know, especially since "they're all dolled up" (read:  "What the fuck does their appearance have to do with anything in the context of this song?!?")

And since you took "Heart & Soul" to write this song, does this mean your "baby's favorite record" is..."Heart & Soul"?  If so, you may want to reevaluate some things, including this particular romantic relationship.

And it's shit like this, Train, that makes me look foolish for continuing to pick you over Maroon 5.  Next up:  Why Matchbox 20 is better than both of you2.

I could go further into the music analysis, but frankly, even I'm bored already.
2 Not really.  I mean I love their music, too, but I don't have a compelling argument to make.  I just wanted an excuse to include the Saturday Night Live sketch "Maroon 5 versus Train," but I can't find it online :-(