I've dreamt of tornados three times in the last seven days.
I don't know what it means, but every time I'm torn between wanting to watch the storm and wanting to hide in a safe, dark place.
And every time the dream turns into a flight from someone who is trying to kill me or trap me, somewhere around my house.
I don't understand and I don't know what they mean.
But when I'm supposed to I guess I will.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
Busy Work
Yesterday over 400 people came through work, looking for tours.
It's the long weekend.
I'm glad we're busy. It means I don't have to find things to do to look busy and the day goes by really quickly.
And the long weekend won't last forever anyway.
It's the long weekend.
I'm glad we're busy. It means I don't have to find things to do to look busy and the day goes by really quickly.
And the long weekend won't last forever anyway.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I Need To Write More
Not just here, but in general.
I woke up today with a migraine and a really sore neck. No special reason, just that time of the month. I love/hate that my migraines have only two triggers - stress and hormones. At least they're more predictable that way.
I rearranged my room a bit today too. That was fun, and now my room is clean for the first time in a long time. It relaxed me and now I have space to write on my desk. I'm like my mom that way - a flat surface is like a paper magnet. I seem to have little control over it - it just happens.
And I read today too, while eating cherries and drinking Coke. An odd mix, you may think, but when I have a migraine I am drawn to Coke like an addict, and it helps. It's probably psychosomatic, but it helps. I just discovered S M Stirling, and I'm enjoying my library card immensly.
My brother is getting married in 24 days. It isn't real yet, and won't be until I see it happen, but these things never are. How strange! My younger brother tying the knot. Well, now perhaps I'll get nieces and nephews to spoil rotten!
I suppose I should go back home and write something else - work on the play I'm writing, or the book(s) - and eat some more substantial fare. Cherries are great but they don't keep you going for long.
I woke up today with a migraine and a really sore neck. No special reason, just that time of the month. I love/hate that my migraines have only two triggers - stress and hormones. At least they're more predictable that way.
I rearranged my room a bit today too. That was fun, and now my room is clean for the first time in a long time. It relaxed me and now I have space to write on my desk. I'm like my mom that way - a flat surface is like a paper magnet. I seem to have little control over it - it just happens.
And I read today too, while eating cherries and drinking Coke. An odd mix, you may think, but when I have a migraine I am drawn to Coke like an addict, and it helps. It's probably psychosomatic, but it helps. I just discovered S M Stirling, and I'm enjoying my library card immensly.
My brother is getting married in 24 days. It isn't real yet, and won't be until I see it happen, but these things never are. How strange! My younger brother tying the knot. Well, now perhaps I'll get nieces and nephews to spoil rotten!
I suppose I should go back home and write something else - work on the play I'm writing, or the book(s) - and eat some more substantial fare. Cherries are great but they don't keep you going for long.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Secret Thoughts of A Tour Guide
This morning I woke up feeling like a giant spring had coiled up in my chest overnight. It grew tighter as the morning went on, making it hard to breathe and blocking my emotions while simultaneously making me want to lash out in cruelty and weep uncontrollably.
As I opened the site four people went walking on without admission stickers. Here is our conversation:
Me: Do you folks have your admisssion stickers?
Them: No.
Me: Well, there is an admission to be on site, so -
Them: We got here when it was closed.
Me: Well, that doesn't really matter. We're open now, so -
Them: That's okay. We're leaving.
Me: Well fuck you too then.
In all honesty, I muttered that last sentence to myself while I walked away. But I did say it.
I spent the whole day avoiding as many people as possible and harshly judging the rest of them, except the few who won their way into my good graces by being exceptional tourists and interesting people. The father of the little annoying boy who couldn't shut up while I talked was not one of those people. Neither was the father of the other annoying little boy on my other tour. It was a rough day.
When I realized I was PMSing it all clicked together in a way that almost made me cry. It was so nice to have an explanation for why I suddenly, thoroughly, deeply hated everyone around me.
Hormones. Gotta love 'em.
As I opened the site four people went walking on without admission stickers. Here is our conversation:
Me: Do you folks have your admisssion stickers?
Them: No.
Me: Well, there is an admission to be on site, so -
Them: We got here when it was closed.
Me: Well, that doesn't really matter. We're open now, so -
Them: That's okay. We're leaving.
Me: Well fuck you too then.
In all honesty, I muttered that last sentence to myself while I walked away. But I did say it.
I spent the whole day avoiding as many people as possible and harshly judging the rest of them, except the few who won their way into my good graces by being exceptional tourists and interesting people. The father of the little annoying boy who couldn't shut up while I talked was not one of those people. Neither was the father of the other annoying little boy on my other tour. It was a rough day.
When I realized I was PMSing it all clicked together in a way that almost made me cry. It was so nice to have an explanation for why I suddenly, thoroughly, deeply hated everyone around me.
Hormones. Gotta love 'em.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
School's Out, For Ever!
I'm done school! I passed my Oral Exam and am now a Guild Member!
How cool is that? I've wanted to be a member of a guild since I was 9 and now I am.
Sweet.
How cool is that? I've wanted to be a member of a guild since I was 9 and now I am.
Sweet.
Sorry...
...for not posting. The internet at my house is not very reliable anymore and after I'm done work I'm too lazy to walk to the office to post. Not a good excuse but there it is.
I've been working as a tour guide at a historic site. I'm at the point where I want to make stuff up on the tour - "And here we have a cart that the dwarves would ride in on their way to transform the coal in the mine into licorice candy, which we still sell today in the gift shop." or "These pigeons are the souls of miners who didn't fill their quota and were then trapped in this form until they could pick up the rest of their unloaded coal with their teensy beaks. Wave to the tormented miners, everybody! They taste like chicken!" - stuff like that.
But I don't. People tend to get upset if they don't feel they're getting their $7.00 worth. At least, the ones who pay do. Today I had two men whom I labled "The Stickerless Goons" because they tagged onto the end of my tour and then, when I caught them without proof of admission, looked all pleased with themselves for not paying. And did they go pay after the tour, like I told them to? No. Of course not.
At least no one cried on my tour. S. made two children cry by telling them a ghost story. One of our co-workers did the same thing a few days ago. What is with children in this day and age? Brats and whiners and cry-babies all. And no dogs shat (yes, shat, it's a word) on the train when I drove it. And there was no little girl sticking her hand up at every opportunity to ask "Can this be over now?" (starting two minutes in. I kid you not.), this time.
I know it takes all kinds but sometimes - I just want to bash some heads.
I've been working as a tour guide at a historic site. I'm at the point where I want to make stuff up on the tour - "And here we have a cart that the dwarves would ride in on their way to transform the coal in the mine into licorice candy, which we still sell today in the gift shop." or "These pigeons are the souls of miners who didn't fill their quota and were then trapped in this form until they could pick up the rest of their unloaded coal with their teensy beaks. Wave to the tormented miners, everybody! They taste like chicken!" - stuff like that.
But I don't. People tend to get upset if they don't feel they're getting their $7.00 worth. At least, the ones who pay do. Today I had two men whom I labled "The Stickerless Goons" because they tagged onto the end of my tour and then, when I caught them without proof of admission, looked all pleased with themselves for not paying. And did they go pay after the tour, like I told them to? No. Of course not.
At least no one cried on my tour. S. made two children cry by telling them a ghost story. One of our co-workers did the same thing a few days ago. What is with children in this day and age? Brats and whiners and cry-babies all. And no dogs shat (yes, shat, it's a word) on the train when I drove it. And there was no little girl sticking her hand up at every opportunity to ask "Can this be over now?" (starting two minutes in. I kid you not.), this time.
I know it takes all kinds but sometimes - I just want to bash some heads.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Storm Season
We've been getting some amazing storms here lately.
A few days ago the lights flickered while I was typing so I turned off the computer and went outside. The clouds were rolling - literally rolling - over, covering a blue, blue sky with grey and dove-purple and green and orange. Tornado clouds, but they were moving so fast the funnels got ripped apart before they could get started. I kept exclaiming, "Look! They're so beautiful!" while S. tried to text his roommate on his new cell phone, and then tried to get the camera part to work so he could take pictures. He is a cell phone person now, everything he's ever hated, but I think it's funny and he does need a phone. Anyway, as I exclaimed and he took photos, I looked up and saw the petals of flowers falling from an orange sky, backlit and beautiful. As they landed they turned into rain drops and soaked me.
It was worth it.
A few days ago the lights flickered while I was typing so I turned off the computer and went outside. The clouds were rolling - literally rolling - over, covering a blue, blue sky with grey and dove-purple and green and orange. Tornado clouds, but they were moving so fast the funnels got ripped apart before they could get started. I kept exclaiming, "Look! They're so beautiful!" while S. tried to text his roommate on his new cell phone, and then tried to get the camera part to work so he could take pictures. He is a cell phone person now, everything he's ever hated, but I think it's funny and he does need a phone. Anyway, as I exclaimed and he took photos, I looked up and saw the petals of flowers falling from an orange sky, backlit and beautiful. As they landed they turned into rain drops and soaked me.
It was worth it.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Damn Internet
It is only working sporadically. Hence the lack of posts.
Yesterday a lady on my tour took a photo of an orb with a face in it. It gave me shivers.
Today nothing interesting happened - just like King Louie XIV, 'rien' is today's blog note.
What happened in your lives today?
Yesterday a lady on my tour took a photo of an orb with a face in it. It gave me shivers.
Today nothing interesting happened - just like King Louie XIV, 'rien' is today's blog note.
What happened in your lives today?
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Train, Train Go Away
The hail hits the roof of the tipple as if on a mission to destroy it. “This give you an idea of how loud it would have been up here,” I shout over the noise, barely heard by the two people who have paid for the tour. Normally I would say a lot more but the noise is too difficult to compete with, the yelling tearing my voice. I should learn to project better, I think as I glance out the window to the ground 45 feet below where the train is rolling away through the dense mist of falling water and ice.
The train is rolling away.
I feel the instant need to stop it, to run down and stop it before it rolls off the end of the tracks and ruins itself, but there’s no way I can get down there – it’ll take me at least 8 minutes to get to the tracks and by then the train will be a heap of twisted muddy metal. As resignation slides over my body like icing over a cake, I notice the person huddled on the drivers seat, squished as small as possible as if he can fit in the space between the raindrops. His sweater is soaked through, making it the same colour as the train. I almost laugh with relief but instead pressed my hand to my heart – poor S., he’ll be soaked through for the rest of the day. Why isn’t he wearing a coat? But I don’t have time to wonder. The two people are looking at me expectantly and the hail has stopped. Time to talk again.
S. is sitting next to a heat vent when I walk into the interpreter’s building after the tour. His shoes are dark with water, resting on the floor beneath his feet. Just looking at his socks I can remember the feeling of wet clothes peeling off my body some summer long ago and I scrunch my nose. Ick. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m soaked,” he replies.
As I touch his shoulder I realize it’s not just a phrase – he’s living that memory of gritty cold wet clothes against his skin. “You’re going to get sick,” I say. “I’ll take your next tour.”
He refuses my offer and instead makes me go get his spare shoes from the trunk of his car. It’s still raining outside, and I hunch your shoulders against the drops. Why do people do this, I wonder. Hunching your shoulders doesn’t get you less wet. But I continue to the car, get his little rubber shoes and come back. He doesn’t change his socks before thrusting his feet into the shoes. He doesn’t have socks here to change into.
“Where’s your coat?” I ask.
“At home,” he says. “I didn’t bring it.”
“I’m taking your tour.” I really don’t want to. I want to sit and eat my lunch and read my book, but there’s no way he can go out again into that weather. If he gets pneumonia I’ll never get rid of the guilt.
He pulls someone’s rain coat off the wall and ignores me, heading out into the rain. I hesitate at the doorway, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and come back although I know that isn’t true. He’s too stubborn. I should have been more forceful, I should have suppressed my hunger for food, my hunger for words, for warmth, pushed it down out of sight. It probably showed and that’s why he didn’t let me do his job. But as I sit and open my book I feel a guilty happiness that it isn’t me out in the wet and cold.
The train is rolling away.
I feel the instant need to stop it, to run down and stop it before it rolls off the end of the tracks and ruins itself, but there’s no way I can get down there – it’ll take me at least 8 minutes to get to the tracks and by then the train will be a heap of twisted muddy metal. As resignation slides over my body like icing over a cake, I notice the person huddled on the drivers seat, squished as small as possible as if he can fit in the space between the raindrops. His sweater is soaked through, making it the same colour as the train. I almost laugh with relief but instead pressed my hand to my heart – poor S., he’ll be soaked through for the rest of the day. Why isn’t he wearing a coat? But I don’t have time to wonder. The two people are looking at me expectantly and the hail has stopped. Time to talk again.
S. is sitting next to a heat vent when I walk into the interpreter’s building after the tour. His shoes are dark with water, resting on the floor beneath his feet. Just looking at his socks I can remember the feeling of wet clothes peeling off my body some summer long ago and I scrunch my nose. Ick. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m soaked,” he replies.
As I touch his shoulder I realize it’s not just a phrase – he’s living that memory of gritty cold wet clothes against his skin. “You’re going to get sick,” I say. “I’ll take your next tour.”
He refuses my offer and instead makes me go get his spare shoes from the trunk of his car. It’s still raining outside, and I hunch your shoulders against the drops. Why do people do this, I wonder. Hunching your shoulders doesn’t get you less wet. But I continue to the car, get his little rubber shoes and come back. He doesn’t change his socks before thrusting his feet into the shoes. He doesn’t have socks here to change into.
“Where’s your coat?” I ask.
“At home,” he says. “I didn’t bring it.”
“I’m taking your tour.” I really don’t want to. I want to sit and eat my lunch and read my book, but there’s no way he can go out again into that weather. If he gets pneumonia I’ll never get rid of the guilt.
He pulls someone’s rain coat off the wall and ignores me, heading out into the rain. I hesitate at the doorway, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and come back although I know that isn’t true. He’s too stubborn. I should have been more forceful, I should have suppressed my hunger for food, my hunger for words, for warmth, pushed it down out of sight. It probably showed and that’s why he didn’t let me do his job. But as I sit and open my book I feel a guilty happiness that it isn’t me out in the wet and cold.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Simulated Cleaning
I should be cleaning the house.
I really don't feel like it.
So instead I've avoided. I've gone outside, spent too much time online, and chatted with my dad in multiple emails. He's going to a workshop where they practice on a simulated patient (he's a nurse) that they can kill and revive. I've also planned to make a pizza.
Which means cleaning the kitchen.
Yesterday I played Rock Band...it's a fun game. Too bad I don't know more of the songs.
If only I could play a simulated house cleaning game that made cleaning fun...
I really don't feel like it.
So instead I've avoided. I've gone outside, spent too much time online, and chatted with my dad in multiple emails. He's going to a workshop where they practice on a simulated patient (he's a nurse) that they can kill and revive. I've also planned to make a pizza.
Which means cleaning the kitchen.
Yesterday I played Rock Band...it's a fun game. Too bad I don't know more of the songs.
If only I could play a simulated house cleaning game that made cleaning fun...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Jacob
We start the long arduous hike into the hills. We aren’t even 80 steps up when Jacob tries to push past me.
“You have to follow me, remember?” I say, gently guiding him behind me.
He whines but steps in line. I stop to interpret the layers in the rock we are climbing and Jacob darts past me. “You have to go behind me!” I repeat. More whining but he obeys.
We climb some more. He pushes ahead. I repeat the rules, he whines, and each time gets in line with more and more reluctance until he’s really not listening to me anymore. His teacher makes an effort to get him to go to the back of the line where both the teacher and the chaperone are (which, might I add, is not helping me one bit). When we get to the plateau, the kids run every which way and very little, if any, of what I’m trying to teach them about rocks is getting through. It’s a garboil if ever I saw one.
By the end of the hike I’ve decided that I don’t like 3rd graders.
As we arrive back at the gift shop, his teacher turns to me and says, "ADHD The Movie: Starring Jacob" as way of explanation and, I think, apology. It makes sense of Jacob's behaviour and I wish I'd known that at the beginning of the hike. Maybe I could have used Jacob's energy instead of fighting it the whole time.
It's all a learning experience, I guess.
Even if all we learned by the time the tours were done was that all 6 of us tour guides don’t want kids anymore.
“You have to follow me, remember?” I say, gently guiding him behind me.
He whines but steps in line. I stop to interpret the layers in the rock we are climbing and Jacob darts past me. “You have to go behind me!” I repeat. More whining but he obeys.
We climb some more. He pushes ahead. I repeat the rules, he whines, and each time gets in line with more and more reluctance until he’s really not listening to me anymore. His teacher makes an effort to get him to go to the back of the line where both the teacher and the chaperone are (which, might I add, is not helping me one bit). When we get to the plateau, the kids run every which way and very little, if any, of what I’m trying to teach them about rocks is getting through. It’s a garboil if ever I saw one.
By the end of the hike I’ve decided that I don’t like 3rd graders.
As we arrive back at the gift shop, his teacher turns to me and says, "ADHD The Movie: Starring Jacob" as way of explanation and, I think, apology. It makes sense of Jacob's behaviour and I wish I'd known that at the beginning of the hike. Maybe I could have used Jacob's energy instead of fighting it the whole time.
It's all a learning experience, I guess.
Even if all we learned by the time the tours were done was that all 6 of us tour guides don’t want kids anymore.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Where the Coal Train Loads
I'm working at the Coal Mine now, which means that I've spent the last four days reading miner stories and miner interviews and mining history, with a bunch of geology thrown in for good measure. I'm taking Geo Hikes up the hills next week which will be fun since I've never witnessed one of these hikes - I get to wing it. With Grade 3's. Hopefully it'll all work out.
I have an audition in Edmonton next Monday. I hope it goes well. It's for a touring company that tours Shakespeare into schools. I think I'd enjoy it...I like Shakespeare...but we'll see.
And that's the up-date for my life.
I have an audition in Edmonton next Monday. I hope it goes well. It's for a touring company that tours Shakespeare into schools. I think I'd enjoy it...I like Shakespeare...but we'll see.
And that's the up-date for my life.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Life in the Last Few Days
I auditioned for a film agent. T. and I left Craving rehearsal early and rushed over to the building, getting there fifteen minutes late. There were four people ahead of us when we got there – L. and three U of A grads who were most entertaining. They were so friendly and chatty that by the time the voice from the bottom of the stairs called me in for my audition I was relaxed and ready to have fun. I felt pretty good about the audition – until I heard back from the agency last night. They aren’t ready to put me on the roster, said the lady, which is fine. I don't think I'm really that interested in film. Her feedback is what I've been obsessing over.
On Emerge: I was subtle and understated which they really liked, since so many people were over the top and theatrical. (Great. I'm too subtle for theatre work.) However, I had a lot of emotion in my pieces, and they thought I did great. In the audition for them, though, I was too exact with the text. (So I have too many theatre habits to be a film actor. Damn. I’m too much of a theatre actor for film and too subtle to get any work in theatre.)
This was still eating at me when I woke up the next morning. One day I’ll learn to let go of these things. For now I still need to take the deep breaths and remind myself that I have something to offer, “even if I’m not quite sure yet what that is.”
Craving opened to a full house. Every time I looked out into the audience the bodies and blurred faces startled me. I haven’t played to real people for a while but it was nice. I heard laughter I recognized and saw faces I knew.
I’m trying to describe things in more sensory detail but I don’t have any memories of the senses last night – except the wonderful chocolate cupcake from Crave that the producer bought for us; the mass of caramel that stuck to my teeth after I ate the Rolo; the panic of chocolate-choking that happens when you inhale the vapour of chocolate melted in your mouth as I was trying to speak; the keen awareness of eyes as people were watching me ‘puke’ on stage; the gasp of the audience when I said I was 72 pounds. The smarting in my eyes, the swelling of my lungs, the anger in my chest as I rode the roller coaster through the show.
I hope it goes well right to the end of the run – only three more days, four more shows.
On Emerge: I was subtle and understated which they really liked, since so many people were over the top and theatrical. (Great. I'm too subtle for theatre work.) However, I had a lot of emotion in my pieces, and they thought I did great. In the audition for them, though, I was too exact with the text. (So I have too many theatre habits to be a film actor. Damn. I’m too much of a theatre actor for film and too subtle to get any work in theatre.)
This was still eating at me when I woke up the next morning. One day I’ll learn to let go of these things. For now I still need to take the deep breaths and remind myself that I have something to offer, “even if I’m not quite sure yet what that is.”
Craving opened to a full house. Every time I looked out into the audience the bodies and blurred faces startled me. I haven’t played to real people for a while but it was nice. I heard laughter I recognized and saw faces I knew.
I’m trying to describe things in more sensory detail but I don’t have any memories of the senses last night – except the wonderful chocolate cupcake from Crave that the producer bought for us; the mass of caramel that stuck to my teeth after I ate the Rolo; the panic of chocolate-choking that happens when you inhale the vapour of chocolate melted in your mouth as I was trying to speak; the keen awareness of eyes as people were watching me ‘puke’ on stage; the gasp of the audience when I said I was 72 pounds. The smarting in my eyes, the swelling of my lungs, the anger in my chest as I rode the roller coaster through the show.
I hope it goes well right to the end of the run – only three more days, four more shows.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Snapshot
The porcupine looked up, his confused little face all bunched up against the bright lights of my car.
Car: Thunk.
Me: Oh no! Oh no!
T.: [starts moaning softly in the seat beside me]
A.: [begins laughing in the back seat]
Me: I've never killed an animal with my car before!
[We go back to look for the poor little thing but can find neither hide nor hair nor quill, so we conclude that since I only hit it with my bumper and I'd slowed down a lot, that I only gave it a small concussion and it went on it's way, hopefully wiser for the experience.]
Car: Thunk.
Me: Oh no! Oh no!
T.: [starts moaning softly in the seat beside me]
A.: [begins laughing in the back seat]
Me: I've never killed an animal with my car before!
[We go back to look for the poor little thing but can find neither hide nor hair nor quill, so we conclude that since I only hit it with my bumper and I'd slowed down a lot, that I only gave it a small concussion and it went on it's way, hopefully wiser for the experience.]
Saturday, May 10, 2008
A Little Freaked Out
Why?
Because I've been informed of 3 - count it, people, 3 - engagements in the last 10 days.
All among my peers.
I am joining the generation of people coupling up and settling down. I didn't think I was that old yet! I don't feel that old yet. Or mature. How - when - did this happen?
But it is spring, so I guess love is in the air. And with love, comes a lot of wedding bells.
Even if it does freak me out a little.
Because I've been informed of 3 - count it, people, 3 - engagements in the last 10 days.
All among my peers.
I am joining the generation of people coupling up and settling down. I didn't think I was that old yet! I don't feel that old yet. Or mature. How - when - did this happen?
But it is spring, so I guess love is in the air. And with love, comes a lot of wedding bells.
Even if it does freak me out a little.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Good Day
I'm trying Safari on my computer. The more I have to do with Macs and their software, the more I like them. I think when I have to replace this computer, I'll get a Mac.
Speaking of replacing things - I think I need to get a smaller car. Mine is still in good shape and runs really well - especially when you consider it has 293,000 kilometers on it - but with gas prices going the way they are, I just can't afford to drive it anymore. 22 mpg just doesn't cut it.
I just came from the second full run we've done of the show I'm in rehearsals for. We open in two weeks and I think we'll be ready. At the end we did press shots and we got to eat cream puffs. The show is about a girl with an eating disorder (played by me), which is why the cream puffs had relevance to the photo shoot. I like that we got to eat them for real when the photo is all about me distancing myself from food.
Right now S. is about to begin his last performance of the show he's in. I'm so proud of him. He's done really well. Of course I may be a bit biased - but he is a really talented actor and it makes my heart do a little dance to see him do what he loves to do, and do it so well.
It's spring here - the frogs are singing loudly, the ducks and geese are (probably) eating them with satisfaction, and I'm putting my roses outside for a few hours a day so they can get used to the breeze - and hopefully the bugs that have been slowly killing them will go away and find some hardier wild plant to infest.
Top that all off with a visit from L., and I'm having a pretty darn good day.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Innocent and Ignorant Are Not the Same Thing
I'm sitting at home, making a roast chicken dinner. This should calm me, but instead I'm sitting here obsessing over the fact that I may have just made a huge fool of myself on this blog.
I've since edited the offending post, but originally in my "Emerging" post I mentioned some people by name, as well as some of my musings or observations of them. I wasn't meaning any of that to be rude or disrespectful, but it also never occurred to me that when I mention people by name, my blog is only a Google-click away.
I feel like such a fool. Nothing that I wrote was a particular secret - I chatted about all of what I wrote with my friends at one point or another, and I knew that most of them could read it anyway - but upon reflection I see how what I wrote could be seen as insulting or just plain rude.
That's the worst of it for me. I have just put myself out there (semi-anonymously) as this completely rude person when I really didn't mean it that way.
I feel like a toddler, too, just learning that my observations and thoughts on people that I genuinely liked when I met them have potential to hurt them and myself. I tell myself that I should have learned this when I was 3. Really, girl, think about what you say before you shake out your writing fingers next time, I scold.
Then I have to take a deep breath and remember to forgive myself and let go. And I realize that my knee-jerk impulse to just never show my face in the theatre scene again is probably a bit of an overreaction. I've done all I can to rectify the situation, there's nothing else I can do.
Let's just hope I've learned something from this and that it never, ever, EVER happens again.
I've since edited the offending post, but originally in my "Emerging" post I mentioned some people by name, as well as some of my musings or observations of them. I wasn't meaning any of that to be rude or disrespectful, but it also never occurred to me that when I mention people by name, my blog is only a Google-click away.
I feel like such a fool. Nothing that I wrote was a particular secret - I chatted about all of what I wrote with my friends at one point or another, and I knew that most of them could read it anyway - but upon reflection I see how what I wrote could be seen as insulting or just plain rude.
That's the worst of it for me. I have just put myself out there (semi-anonymously) as this completely rude person when I really didn't mean it that way.
I feel like a toddler, too, just learning that my observations and thoughts on people that I genuinely liked when I met them have potential to hurt them and myself. I tell myself that I should have learned this when I was 3. Really, girl, think about what you say before you shake out your writing fingers next time, I scold.
Then I have to take a deep breath and remember to forgive myself and let go. And I realize that my knee-jerk impulse to just never show my face in the theatre scene again is probably a bit of an overreaction. I've done all I can to rectify the situation, there's nothing else I can do.
Let's just hope I've learned something from this and that it never, ever, EVER happens again.
Heart Attack
It never occured to me that people could find my blog if I mentioned them, simply by googling themselves.
A wake up call and a heart attack rolled into one. Thank God the fellow who told me this was kind about it.
A wake up call and a heart attack rolled into one. Thank God the fellow who told me this was kind about it.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Emerging
Emerge. This is an event organized for all of the graduating acting students in Alberta to come and have an emerging audition for all of the artistic directors and freelance directors and theatre companies in Alberta. It’s a whole day of audition after audition, shown in four minute chunks divided by a bell if you go over time. Every student goes to Edmonton and Calgary, to two different groups of AD’s and theatre companies, with the same two pieces.
My class just finished this event. I thought we all did really well in Edmonton and even better in Calgary. Both days were long, though - leaving home at 8:00 and not getting back until late in the evening, all for an audition that flew by and a chance to schmooze with people after the day was over. We sipped glasses of complimentary wine and snacked on cheese and fruit and stood around.
I hate schmoozing. It seems pointless to me. Isn’t it too obvious that what I want from you is a job? Doesn’t this feel like I have an agenda in speaking to you? How can anything sincere come out of this? I feel dirty and gross and it’s an integral part of the career I’ve chosen.
I don't think I did too well in Edmonton, but I think I was better prepared in Calgary. Plus the wine and cheese thing in Calgary was just more friendly in atmosphere and environement, being held in a lovely venue.
At both events S. gets told that he did good work but is probably going to have to take out his piercing. A lady who knows one of my friends comes over and tells us that we all rushed our transitions between pieces but that we kicked ass – “Rosebud always does”. Someone else tells us that we were exceptionally clear. Some people don't talk to us at all.
Nothing gets reinforced to me except that everything is relative and I really can’t take what people say seriously in this career.
This is the stupidest line of work a person can possibly pursue. But I can't deny my heart and so I keep moving forward, which I guess is all I can do.
My class just finished this event. I thought we all did really well in Edmonton and even better in Calgary. Both days were long, though - leaving home at 8:00 and not getting back until late in the evening, all for an audition that flew by and a chance to schmooze with people after the day was over. We sipped glasses of complimentary wine and snacked on cheese and fruit and stood around.
I hate schmoozing. It seems pointless to me. Isn’t it too obvious that what I want from you is a job? Doesn’t this feel like I have an agenda in speaking to you? How can anything sincere come out of this? I feel dirty and gross and it’s an integral part of the career I’ve chosen.
I don't think I did too well in Edmonton, but I think I was better prepared in Calgary. Plus the wine and cheese thing in Calgary was just more friendly in atmosphere and environement, being held in a lovely venue.
At both events S. gets told that he did good work but is probably going to have to take out his piercing. A lady who knows one of my friends comes over and tells us that we all rushed our transitions between pieces but that we kicked ass – “Rosebud always does”. Someone else tells us that we were exceptionally clear. Some people don't talk to us at all.
Nothing gets reinforced to me except that everything is relative and I really can’t take what people say seriously in this career.
This is the stupidest line of work a person can possibly pursue. But I can't deny my heart and so I keep moving forward, which I guess is all I can do.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tagged
I tagged myself from Hope's blog when I had the flu and almost forgot about it entirely.
1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. This last one might not happen since I don't think I know five bloggers - so tag yourselves. I'm changing the rules.
1)What was I doing 10 yrs ago?
I was 14, so I was doing some school and spending vast amounts of time outside playing and taking care of animals. It was a good life.
2) What are 5 things on my to-do list for today (not in any particular order):
I need to phone my old music teacher and ask about a mini-disc recorder, so that I can record some stuff for my mom who is making a radio documentary for Outfront.
I have to remember to email rehearsal reports before rehearsal this evening for L.'s final project.
Other than that, my day is my own.
3) Snacks I enjoy:
Tostitos with hot, hot salsa; Stoned Wheat Thins with either pickles (Vlasic, the pickles that sound so great) or dark chocolate; chocolate in any form. Sometimes fruit.
4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
I would pay all of my friends student loans, and my own, and create a few really great scholarships for this place, and then I think I'd invest in a really good and practical hybrid car. I'd also build wells for every village in Africa that I could find. And, lets face it, I'd go clothes shopping. And I'd build or buy myself a house somewhere, but first I'd have to figure out where I want to live.
5) Three of my bad habits:
Living in the future or the past instead of the present; letting fear be my guide; swearing. I think I swear a little too much.
6) 5 places I have lived:
The Bailey House, where we had a lovely classic barn where the chickens would lay eggs in the floor of the loft and my brothers and I saw a green orb that was watching us with friendly curiosity; The Laverick House, where every spring our animals would double, triple, quadruple in number and we'd go on quiet hunts to find hidden nests of kittens and chicks; The Star House, where I had a room with a tiny window that was too high to jump out of anyway and I learned that I need more than one way out of my bedroom or I feel trapped; The Dahlen House, where I had many, many late night hallway talks with my best friends; This house, where I am happy.
7) 5 jobs I have had:
I've been a librarian, a hostess at a restaurant, a janitor at a welding shop (which was the worst job I've ever had for multiple reasons), a supervisor at A&W, and in a month I'll be working at a coal mine. Should be fun!
8) 5 peeps I wanna know more about:
My love, S.; my friends, R. and L. and T.; my roommate J. And myself, but that makes six.
1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog. This last one might not happen since I don't think I know five bloggers - so tag yourselves. I'm changing the rules.
1)What was I doing 10 yrs ago?
I was 14, so I was doing some school and spending vast amounts of time outside playing and taking care of animals. It was a good life.
2) What are 5 things on my to-do list for today (not in any particular order):
I need to phone my old music teacher and ask about a mini-disc recorder, so that I can record some stuff for my mom who is making a radio documentary for Outfront.
I have to remember to email rehearsal reports before rehearsal this evening for L.'s final project.
Other than that, my day is my own.
3) Snacks I enjoy:
Tostitos with hot, hot salsa; Stoned Wheat Thins with either pickles (Vlasic, the pickles that sound so great) or dark chocolate; chocolate in any form. Sometimes fruit.
4) Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
I would pay all of my friends student loans, and my own, and create a few really great scholarships for this place, and then I think I'd invest in a really good and practical hybrid car. I'd also build wells for every village in Africa that I could find. And, lets face it, I'd go clothes shopping. And I'd build or buy myself a house somewhere, but first I'd have to figure out where I want to live.
5) Three of my bad habits:
Living in the future or the past instead of the present; letting fear be my guide; swearing. I think I swear a little too much.
6) 5 places I have lived:
The Bailey House, where we had a lovely classic barn where the chickens would lay eggs in the floor of the loft and my brothers and I saw a green orb that was watching us with friendly curiosity; The Laverick House, where every spring our animals would double, triple, quadruple in number and we'd go on quiet hunts to find hidden nests of kittens and chicks; The Star House, where I had a room with a tiny window that was too high to jump out of anyway and I learned that I need more than one way out of my bedroom or I feel trapped; The Dahlen House, where I had many, many late night hallway talks with my best friends; This house, where I am happy.
7) 5 jobs I have had:
I've been a librarian, a hostess at a restaurant, a janitor at a welding shop (which was the worst job I've ever had for multiple reasons), a supervisor at A&W, and in a month I'll be working at a coal mine. Should be fun!
8) 5 peeps I wanna know more about:
My love, S.; my friends, R. and L. and T.; my roommate J. And myself, but that makes six.
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