Out of the blue

2012-02-07T12:52:00.001-05:00

I've written many a blog post about my obsessive need to use every coupon I see and my excessive enjoyment of finding good deals. While I'm a far cry from those coupon hunter crazies on TLC or whatever channel it is, it's still an unhealthy habit for my wallet. My latest finds that feed my addiction are Groupon and LivingSocial. Big savings at local places. Well, big mistake. Heed my warning if you are a coupon fiend such as myself.... I avoided joining for many, many weeks, as I feared the inevitable decline of my bank account and increase of purchases. But I am weak. And I gave in.

Day 1 after signing up for their tempting emails I made a purchase. Day 2, I made a purchase. Day 3, I made a purchase. Thankfully, at least, it was only one purchase each day. Thankfully, at least, it was only one purchase from Groupon OR LivingSocial and not both. So anyways, only three days after joining I forced myself to stop opening the emails. It's like a 10-step program. Hopefully... eventually... I will be able to open the emails, look at the plethora of good deals and just say no. But I have to take it in baby steps. Right now the subject line headings with their "deal of the day" mentions are hard enough to handle. I'm proud with each delete I manage. But it's a struggle.... it's difficult to talk about.

This here blog post is a story of one of my Groupon purchases. I bought a facial at over 60% off as a little treat to self. I had never had one before and again, it was a good deal, so I thought why not? Well, I show up yesterday at this "spa" which is really a one-woman show in a tiny space where the lobby-slash-store and one "treatment room" combined are about the size of large closet. The business owner is the only beauty technician, or whatever they're called, and she's also the receptionist, and the seller of beauty items at 20% off. I mean... good for her, owning her own business and running it all. No complaints. Just describing the setting for you here. Recreating. Business must not be doing too poorly, since when I walked in at 6:25 for my 6:30 appointment she asked if I'd mind waiting 5 minutes since she had back-to-back appointments all day and didn't have her lunch yet. Then again, maybe she's so busy from all of her Groupon sales, from which she may actually be losing money (despite the benefit of potentially gaining new clients). When I made this Groupon purchase I was the 250th person to do so... I remember because I was happy that it was a nice, clean number. That's a lot of facials for one woman who works out of a closet.

Anyway, once I'm in the room she's chit-chatting, small talking, asking questions away... way too much energy for a woman who had been working all day through her lunch (maybe her 5 minute lunch was a redbull). I respond with my usual short but polite answers which clearly give off a vibe that says "I'm shy and quiet and prefer not to talk". Vibe is either not recognized or ignored. I feel as though a big part of the job of any beauty technician (still don't know their title), or hairdresser or whatever, should be feeling out how social your clients are and acting accordingly. Nothing's worse than a stylist who relentlessly tries to small talk with someone who's clearly not having it. It's awkward. I generally prefer the awkward silence. But I was perfectly polite and after about 15 minutes fully gave in and catered to her need to talk... asking her questions about the business, appropriate skin care routines and her life. Despite the small space and forced conversation it wasn't completely unrelaxing. There was one of those natural sounds CDs playing in the background so whenever she paused to breathe I got to hear some waves crashing or rainforest bugs chirping. And the chair was heated, which was nice. After a "hot steam rinse" I got about 8 different peels or masks put on my face, all of which she supposedly customized to my skin's needs, accompanied with 8 heated towels and one mediocre arm/hand massage. I had the choice of an extraction or a mini back massage. I chose the extraction since it's more facial-esque. Little did I know choosing between an extraction and a massage is basically choosing between extreme pain or relaxing comfort and of course, I went for the pain. She covered my eyes to protect them from this crazy bright light and then proceeded to injure my face. I have a high pain tolerance but I'm girl enough to admit it hurt. The worst part though, was the bright light. The curse of my blue eyes is how sensitive they are to light. Despite being clenched shut and covered, my eyes were tearing to the point where it looked like I was full-on crying. My self-conscious, prideful self wanted her to know that these were not tears of pain but mentioning that would have been even more lame than if they were tears of pain, so per usual, I kept silent. For the final "calming mask" she left the room for 10 minutes so I could relax. Twas peaceful. At the end she said I may breakout from the facial. Great side effect to a supposed skin cleaning, no?

All in all, worth the full price? Not at all. Worth the Groupon price? Maybeeee. Will I do it again? Probably not. Well, unless I find a coupon.

Tune in soon for my zipline adventure story... yet another Groupon purchase. Luckily I've managed to steer clear of the Escape Getaways. My wallet thanks me.


I was expecting something like this... candles... quiet... relaxation....

But this more accurately depicts how I felt

2011-11-01T14:50:00.000-04:00

This is a long post. One that jumps around between a couple of topics. One I probably should have edited to make shorter. But I didn't want to go through the hassle of editing this here casual blog of mine. So, instead I left it in its wordy, drawn-own state, added in this introductory paragraph to make it even longer, and all I have to say is bravo to you if you make it to the end. Really wants to make you keep reading right? Drawing the reader in with clever opening lines was always a strength of mine. Cough. Anyways, if you're still with me, here it is...

I'm re-reading one of my favorite novels, The Thirteenth Tale, and this one passage stuck out to me... it's about an author and the stories she has yet to write,

"My study throngs with characters waiting to be written. Imaginary people, anxious for a life, who tug at my sleeve, crying, 'Me next! Go on! My turn!' I have to select. And once I have chosen, the others lie quiet for ten months or a year, until I come to the end of the story, and the clamor starts up again."

I felt an instant connection to this passage because it perfectly describes how I feel about choreography. I have a huge list of songs I have to use, the workings of multiple pieces started in my mind, and the minute one dance is done I'm eager to pick out the next and get started, feeling bad for the other songs and ideas that will have to wait until later. I'm lucky to have such a passion and it's crazy to think that just 6 years ago I had absolutely zero interest in ever attempting choreography and little to no respect for it as an art. I truly believe this is one of the main reasons I was led to Wheaton, to discover this passion of mine... every so often things happen to fall a certain way and a lot of "chance" things lead you to something wonderful you couldn't have expected. Wheaton for me is one of those things... to think of how I ended up there and then what I got out of it... it's nothing short of a blessing.

How I ended up at Wheaton College is a bizarre story, all the more so if you know how much I am into researching and planning things and just how much typically goes into my decision making process. I had a list of 7 schools I was applying to senior year, not to name drop them (but I am anyway) they were Brown, Amherst, Wellesley, Tufts, Vassar, Stonehill and Gordon. I had done all my research... I knew their acceptance rates, average SAT scores, and essentially calculated my odds of getting into each one. In my know-it-all teenage mind I KNEW I would get into 2, had a chance of getting into 3, and probably would not get into the remaining 2, but wanted to try anyway... or in guidance counselor terms I had 2 safeties, 3 matches and 2 reaches. I had visited dozens of colleges, done all my interviews, taken tours, sat in on classes, and again I KNEW these were my top 7 choices. So when my guidance counselor told me I needed to apply to more "safety schools" I was strongly against it. If I KNEW I could get into two of my schools and I KNEW I would choose any one of these seven over any other school, why should I have to apply somewhere else? He was adamant that I choose at least one more school, "to give me more options" he said. KNEW (had to throw in one more all caps "knew"... sorry)

Now, normal Trisha, if forced to pick another option, would have gone through the whole research process again of trying to find her 8th choice... the perfect school for her if options 1-7 didn't work out. But rebellious Trisha (a side which rarely comes out) thought it would be perfectly spiteful if she chose a school at random, as if to say to mr. guidance counselor, "fine, i'll pick another school, but don't think I care which one I choose because I WILL get into at least 2 of my schools, I WILL go to one of those and this "8th choice" will be inconsequential and unnecessary, as I said from day 1". Time for Trisha to stop referring to herself in 3rd person. In reality, he didn't know how I came to the decision of choosing my 8th school, and probably it wouldn't have mattered much to him anyway. But I felt deliciously evil in knowing how I decided and in my mind it was the perfect way to get back at the guidance counselor who forced me to spend the unnecessary $55 on another application. So how did I come to my decision you ask? I picked up one of those top colleges in the northeast guidebooks, opened to a random page (which happened to be Wheaton's), saw its acceptance rate was more in the realm of the schools I knew I would get into rather than a Brown or Amherst, and decided to apply there. Knowing nothing about it. It made me so happy to do this to my guidance counselor without his knowledge that it was almost worth the $55 in my mind (of my mother's money... if it was mine it might have diminished my happiness a bit. But that's irrelevant).

Fast-forward several months and low and behold I get into the two schools I knew I would, plus Wheaton, and waitlisted at two others. Once I actually was accepted at Wheaton I figured it would be just plain irresponsible of me to not at least visit the place and see how it compared in my mind to the other two schools. (Of course, my method of choosing the school wasn't at all irresponsible in the first place). Two second background story... at all of my past college visits it had rained the day I visited... every single one (and remember, I visited dozens) so, by the 14th time or so that it happened I said to myself "if I ever visit a school and it's not raining I will take it as a sign and go there if I'm accepted". Well, no shocker with what happened next. I visit Wheaton and it's a gorgeous, sunny day. Even though researching, planning, calculating and comparing is my way of decision making and I'm often ruled by logic, I allowed my gut to take over and, completely unlike me, I didn't even think about it when I accepted my enrollment to Wheaton, turning down the other two schools. I felt that I was led there, for some unseen reason, and that it was where I was meant to be. Strangely enough I was really comfortable with my choice, even though I knew little about the place, because I took everything as a sign. Yet spiteful me was biting her tongue and did not thank guidance counselor. Didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Now, I always follow my gut... it leads me throughout my life. While my heart isn't always smart enough, and my head doesn't always care enough, my gut has yet to lead me wrong. It combines my head, my heart and that unknown instinctive quality that I believe is God's guidance to get me what I need, even if it's not always what I want. I'm SO thankful I ended up at Wheaton, as I truly believe it was perfect for me and helped me grow into who I am. Beyond the classes and professors, friends and experiences, one of the best things I found at Wheaton was my passion for choreography. I honestly do not believe I would have found it otherwise.

I have been dancing for a long time, over 20 years now (ugh). In high school I had the opportunity to choreograph, and was greatly encouraged to do so by some of my teachers. But I had zero interest... not a spark... not one miniscule part of me had any desire or curiosity to explore even the possibility of it. I liked dancing. I liked others giving me steps to dance. I did not like the idea of creating movement for myself or others to dance. Period. When I got to college I didn't think I would have much of an opportunity to dance again in my life, beyond possibly some occasional classes, and of course in musical theater, but that's completely different. I didn't think I'd be able to dance in choreographed works. There simply isn't much opportunity once you graduate from a studio unless you join a professional company. Then I found dance company at Wheaton. I had an outlet to dance and I had a dance family. Still, I had no interest in choreography and I did not expect this to change. During my first two years at Wheaton I had the opportunity to work with multiple choreographers, all with different styles, very different than I had ever experienced at home. One day, sophomore year I (quite subconsciously) started visualizing choreography to a musical theater song I was listening to. I didn't know what to make of it. More and more ideas came to me with each listen to the song... I was choreographing without even trying. I decided to follow my gut (again) and push myself to go for it... if I'm ever going to choreograph might as well make it this semi cheesy, fosse-esque musical theater choreography I was visualizing, because, I thought, I could do anything with a musical theater style piece, and it would be much easier than a "real" dance. I worked for something ridiculous like 8 months on the piece before teaching it to the company as a junior. I was proud to have choreographed something, when I never thought I would, even if it was "just a musical theater piece". But I hadn't found my voice yet as a choreographer. Honestly, after that first experience I didn't have a huge desire to try choreographing something else and I had little belief that I would be able to ever do a "real dance". Even now, after having choreographed over a dozen pieces I feel like each time I start a new piece I won't know what I'm doing and I have little confidence that I'll be able to do a "real dance". Now I realize my works are real dances, they're just different. (I always thought of a real dance as like a lyrical jazz, which is actually sort of the style of the piece I just set recently.) I enjoy though that with the start of each new work I still feel like I won't have a clue what I'm doing... it emphasizes to me how there's no formula or set approach to choreographing and the process becomes more organic for me. Where was I going with this? (going back to re-read...) Oh, so I had no desire to choreograph again and little confidence in my ability. Then, junior year I worked with a choreographer who completely inspired me. His approach to choreography was unlike anything I had encountered before... there were no counts, no set tempo from dancer to dancer (dancer's choice!) and he had choreographed the whole thing but hadn't picked out music yet... but his passion for movement was infectious. Beyond his approach, which was new to me, what really inspired me was something he said, something that I now consider to be practically my mantra with choreography. Someone asked him why he decided to become a choreographer and through a huge smile he said "I get to play with movement every day of my life. What could possibly be better?" Those words struck a chord with me. Never before had I thought of choreography as playing with movement. I thought of it as you learn these set steps in your technique class and choreography is just stringing those learned movements together in a different order. Romantic definition there right? Can you tell I was a math major? Never before had I considered the possibility of creating something new or playing. My eyes were suddenly open to a world of possibilities. I said my first piece was heavily Fosse inspired... I had always admired his work but had never really thought about why I admired it. Now I believe it's largely because he wasn't afraid to be different, his moves are both sexy and odd and they have a sort of tongue-in-cheek, quirky humor I am drawn to. So many of these qualities I admire in Fosse's work were relevant to me in a fresh way when I thought about choreography in terms of playing with movement... now when I choreograph I do whatever strikes me, even if it's bizarre and different, I enjoy quirky movements that play off of literal interpretations of lyrics and I try not to limit myself to conventional dance steps learned in class. I found my voice and my inspiration, guided by the choreographer's words "play with movement". Such a simple idea, yet it completely turned my perspective upside down, or rather, right side up.

Since then I have been unable to stop creating choreography. Thoughts constantly swim in my mind for bits of movement and new works to set. And while it's possible I could have stumbled upon this passion of mine at some other point in my life and in some other way, I'm not so sure I would have... like I said, I was certain upon entering Wheaton that I wouldn't dance again. And if I didn't dance again, in this traditional way as I'm referring to it, outside of musical theater, why would I have ever been inspired to choreograph? I believe in my heart that dance company at Wheaton, and the choreographers and different styles I was exposed to there (and one choreographer's words in particular) are the reason I found this passion of mine. It makes you wonder what other passions of yours may be out there, yet undiscovered. Here's a shameless invite to check out some of my choreography here.

And as a random conclusion to this essay length blog of mine, if you haven't read The Thirteenth Tale and you enjoy reading, go read it now. I love a lot of books but very few are memorable and this is one that still creeps into my thoughts years after having read it, necessitating multiple re-reads. That's all.

Random pic, just because.

2011-05-20T14:21:00.000-04:00

Since the world is ending tomorrow I thought I'd write one final blog post. A somber farewell. Although I'm sick of the topic, I can't help but jump on the bandwagon (a trite expression I hate but find myself using, then criticizing myself afterward for doing so). Yes, everyone's favorite hobby of the week seems to be making fun of this grand announcement, so I might as well jump aboard (gahh, trite expression #2 already). If you've been hiding under a rock (#3), perhaps you don't know that tomorrow is the beginning of the end. They say 3% of the world's population will die tomorrow and in 5 months time everyone will be gone. So while you may make it to Memorial Day or July 4th, you might as well cancel any Thanksgiving or Christmas plans. Say your goodbyes and your love yous now because Judgment Day has arrived. Needless to say, tomorrow I will not be waiting for the end of it all, nor will I be celebrating at a "Judgment Day party" to mock the whole thing and have an excuse to drink. Twill be just another day. Sorry to be so boring.

I was driving in to work on Tuesday morning when I first saw the infamous billboard which I now can't avoid seeing 12+ times a day. You know the one... unless you're still hiding under that rock of yours.

At first I thought it was just a very odd plug for familyradio.com but soon the news spread like wildfire (trite expression #4... let's see how many I can rack up (#5?)). That's right, there's actually a group out there who thinks the world is ending tomorrow. And we would be foolish not to believe them, right? Who am I kidding... in today's society we're skeptical of things that are all but fact, so of course no one will believe them. Who is this "them" you ask? "Them" equals Harold Camping and his Project Caravan followers who spent a bunch of money on billboards to spread across the country, because after all... the world's ending tomorrow so might as well spend all that money now. I'll admit, after I first saw the billboard I checked the weather report for Saturday to see if there would be any signs of an earth shattering storm. When I saw that it would just be the usual rain we've had all week, I felt instant relief that the world would not be coming to an end, thank goodness. It got me thinking though... about how it all could end... the ways we fear it happening... what could happen the day after tomorrow? Shoot! That would have been a great line had I written this yesterday. Anyway...

Sure it's possible we could just get a ton of rain again like THE flood circa 4990 B.C... seems all the more plausible after this week. But over time we have dreamed up a lot of ways it could end. Everyone loves a good apocalypse movie. It could be aliens, a black hole, meteor or gamma ray burst from space. In the Bible it DOES say Jesus' return will take place in the sky... though I always pictured this as more of a supernatural experience than something like a meteor. Although, aliens are supernatural... but you know what I mean. Hopefully if it were aliens they would land their UFOs first and come out of their ships, thereby giving us the chance to attack them (as is so often seen in alien movies) rather than simply attacking us all from the sky first and getting it over with. Let us pretend we have a chance. I'm pretty sure we could detect most of these space related finales with satellites and jazz first (though what do I really know on the subject?). So unless this Camping fellow has a high-tech satellite and sees this stuff coming in (or NASA for that matter), I don't think this is how it will all play out. Next!

Look at this fun coloring page I found.
Have your kids color in the aliens shooting laser
beams through people and ending the world. What fun!

Perhaps it wouldn't be something from the sky, but rather something from the earth that ends us all. This string of recent earthquakes and tsunamis are certainly frightening and everyone is up in arms (#6? I lost track) over global warming. Something like this in a grand scale is conceivable. I've always been slightly terrified at the prospect of one of those super volcanoes erupting and disrupting the climate enough to kill all life on Earth. Maybe it will be a wide spread infection. Those like to pop up too. Swine flu, bird flu anyone? Maybe robots really will take over and our own technology will destroy us all. Or perhaps it will be a nuclear war. I still think the only way 3% of the world's population will die tomorrow is if this Camping figure pulls some sort of heinous attack so that no one can call him a liar. It's not really something to joke about. Part of me is worried that his followers may end up pulling something like the Heaven's Gate Hale-Boppers of 1997 who were convinced the world was ending. As I said, not really something to joke about. I don't go around preaching my beliefs, but I am a Christian. I do believe Christ is coming again... just not tomorrow. Insert bible passage Matthew 24:36 here.

Let's face the facts... every prediction of the earth's end thus far has failed. And there have been plenty. I may have fed into them a bit more when I was younger (during the Y2K scare I was a skeptical but slightly paranoid teenager who thought there was at least the possibility of a mass blackout, if not the end of the world), but now it's just silly to think you can predict these things. I'll live tomorrow like a normal day and yes, I'll be seeing you all December 22, 2012 as well. But if you'd rather prepare for the next famine/environmental collapse/solar flare/bombing/magnetic pole reversal be my guest and stock up on food and water, sport your facemasks and hope it will save you in the end. You never know.

2011-05-06T17:12:00.000-04:00

It's already happened. I can't believe I'm at the point already where I forget how old I am. The past few times someone has asked me I've had to pause, think "1986" and mentally subtract from 2011 to tell them I'm 24. Quite a difference from my younger years where I could instantly spit out "I'm 11 years, 7 months old". I know I'm still young and therefore you're probably chuckling that I used the phrase "younger years". But as I'm approaching my quarter-century mark this July I've been reflecting more and more on how different I am now than I was. Sure, my personality and interests have remained primarily the same though they've evolved somewhat, as they do over time with everyone as they experience more in life. But I'm pretty sure I'll always be fairly quiet, curious & nerdy and have a soft spot for musical theater. The big difference is in my maturity and outlook on life. I feel like an entirely different person.

When I was young, even as early as elementary school, I remember feeling like I was mentally and emotionally mature for my age. I didn't have much interest in "play time" and I remember "not getting" how to play make believe type games or understanding why it was supposed to be fun. I don't think that's really a maturity thing... I think I was just odd (another thing that never really changed), but I remember feeling like I was more mature. Shift forward a few years to middle and high school and I remember REALLY feeling more mature. I didn't understand why people would be mean to each other, or try to act cool to fit in. I didn't find what most of my peers found funny amusing. And I thought to myself, when adults say "teenagers think they know everything and think they are mature enough to deal with anything", that I was an exception to their statement, because while I may not have known everything, I was still beyond my years in terms of emotional and mental maturity. I felt like I thought like an adult, assessed things like an adult, handled emotions like an adult. In no way was I "inferior" and I expected adults to think of me this way and treat me this way. I laugh at all of this now because it's probably what every teenager feels like. In some ways I do think I was more mature than my peers, but I was still an angst-ridden teenager.

I still remember the first time I felt a disconnect with people younger than me. Not children... I've never been much of a children person, even when I was one. I don't know how to act around kids and basically freak out if I'm around too many at once. No, I'm referring to teenagers, middle & high school age. I was just out of college and whenever I saw a group of teens walking around I felt a very strange disconnect. I'd look at them and smile to myself, thinking about how silly teenage years are, and then it suddenly hit me that I now felt like I fit in more with "adult adults" than teenagers. It was an odd, odd feeling and probably the first time I truly felt like a real adult. However, it's been in the past two years or so that I really started to feel like I'm different from who I was. That I have a firm grasp on who I am, what I believe, what I want and what I stand for. It's strange to think about because like I said before, throughout my whole life I've always felt like a mature, introspective person, but now its different. I can't pinpoint it or describe it well, but I'm grown up.

Just the other day I went through my poetry journal, poems I wrote from age 13 on. Poems that my mother read at the time that led her to believe I was going to commit suicide, to which I laughed as I said "they're just poems!" when really on the inside I knew I was showing them to her to tell her how much I was hurting. As I sat there and read these heart-wrenching words all I could think about was how far I've come and how much I wish I could go back and tell my teenage self that it would all be okay. I don't discredit what I felt at the time. I went through something awful that I dealt with in the best way I could... letting it out in words and through dance. I think about how scared I was and pessimistic; how cruel I thought life was and how all of that gave me the strength and growth to be at where I am now, a complete reversal. Now I am incredibly optimistic and hopeful, excited for the future and everything I have yet to learn and experience. I feel like life is sort of like constantly growing up... there's always more to discover... about yourself, about others and about the world. This sort of turned into a cheesy message on personal growth. I apologize. I'm not sure what my intention was when I first started writing or what I was hoping to say. Certainly not bore you with a self-indulgent story on growing up. I thought it was curious though that my poetry book stopped at the age of 19. Half of this 2 inch thick journal was filled with poems from age 13-19, but not one from before I was teen and not one after. It's not like I made the conscious decision to stop when I was 20; I just did not find myself writing poetry anymore. It's sort of like poetry was meant to help me through my teenage years and then at that point it had served its purpose. Now that is cheesy.

I'm not sure I want to publish this post. It's kind of a mental free-write for me versus my usual re-read and re-work pattern of writing in an attempt to make things funny and/or insightful. I guess I'll post it anyway, at least it's real. I'll probably delete it later.

2011-02-18T17:03:00.003-05:00

I'm a far cry from a shopaholic. I frequent the mall maybe 5 times a year and usually it's with a specific purchase in mind. Either that or I'll be going there to see a movie and have some time to kill so I pop into some stores. But shopping just to browse, see what catches my eye and spend freely? Almost never. For one, I'm a guilty purchaser. If I spend too much money I immediately feel guilty. This is why I almost always have a planned purchase in mind before going to stores. I feel as though planning out the spending of my money dissimulates my guilt a bit. (No idea if I used "dissimulates" correctly, but it's the word that came to mind so I'm sticking to my instinct). All of this "non shopaholic" jazz doesn't mean, however, that I do not occasionally like to splurge. I'm just a very methodical splurger.

Yes, every so often I will become mildly... obsessed with something, for lack of a better word. Mostly, it's just a couple of obsessions that get recycled over time. They go from something I need to have, to something I kind of forget about once I have it, and then a few months/years down the road I'll need to have more again. My favorites tend to be book, dvd or beauty product related. But if I'm craving new books to read I will not just run out to Borders, browse for a few minutes and pick something up. As I said before, I'm a guilty spender. I need to draw out the process as long as possible in order to dissimulate my guilt (there's that word again) and get the most satisfaction out of my purchase. Even if it is only $6 on a new book.

Let's explain my typical process. I will usually go to Amazon.com and begin browsing (or Sephora.com or etsy.com or even nuts.com haha...depending on what particular product it is that I'm craving). This browsing becomes addictive and quite time consuming. I read reviews for multiple items of whatever it is I'm craving and form a wish list. I allow myself to compile said wish list over several weeks of browsing. By the time it's all said and done I have a wishlist of anywhere from 8 to 50 items. The next few weeks are spent re-reading the information for what I have already deemed to be the best of the best. I need to whittle it down to just one or two items that I will actually get. Then, after the long decision making process is finally done with I buy that item online with complete confidence that I bought THE best of whatever it was I was looking for. I never go and find the item in a store because I find that the waiting each day for the package to arrive only further increases my excitement and anticipation. Then the day finally comes, after what is typically months of planning... it arrives. The excitement continues as I open it up and is usually maintained during the product's first usage. Then it dies down considerably. But the thrill of the purchase typically outshines the guilt when I go about it all in this long, drawn-out fashion.

I'm right in the middle of three obsessions. That is too many at one time for me. Thankfully, one has (mostly) come to a close, because I've pretty much exhausted my purchasing potential in this category. I'll start with that one. Lately I have discovered Hayao Miyazaki's films. If you are unfamiliar, he's often referred to as the Japanese Walt Disney although this comparison is far off. The folks over at Pixar think of this man as a God and his films, as a whole, I believe are much more geared towards adults than children. There's no cliche jokes, usually no clear villian, sometimes not even much of a plot and the characters never break into song, but I saw one of his movies and was hooked in. I HAD to see more of his films. Per my typical purchasing method, I began to look up his films. Disney got the rights to sell his movies in the U.S. When I saw that he only had ten films, one of which I already owned, I knew I was in trouble. There would be no way of getting around me ordering them all. I knew that. If he had 80 films I could have restrained myself and picked out one or two (okay, or three) to purchase, but the fact that there was such a limited number of them... my wallet was going to hate me. I still went through the process of researching each of the movies, including reading several ranked lists, critic's reviews, regular people American reviews, regular people Japanese reviews, trailer viewings etc.. But in the end I did as I knew I would, went and purchased them all. That's why I can say I'm in the clear with future purchases around this obsession. I bought all of his movies. However, there are new movies to be made and several more which he has had a part in, even if he didn't write and direct them all. I shouldn't say I'm safe yet. I'm still awaiting the arrival of 8 of these movies and the anticipation is ever increasing as I'm learning how long it takes disney movie club to ship these things out. At the rate they're going I wouldn't be surprised if they're coming over directly from Japan. Either that or Disney is "being nice" and trying to prolong the process because they know the anticipation is 90% of the pleasure.

I couldn't resist adding this image which features a (still life animation hah) image
of Miyazaki as well as characters and creatures from 7 of his movies.

One of my other obsessions are these wonderful handmade soups by DeShawn Marie. With so many different scent combinations to choose from, it's hard to pick what my next order will be. You can bet I've read through each description multiple times and carefully picked out each one to buy. I really wish I knew how to draw out my happiness from these purchases though. While I do LOVE the soaps I find myself wanting to try out all of the "flavors" as quickly as possible. As a result, I'll open up a package, use it one day in the shower, have that initial excitement of it being something new, and then, instead of wanting to finish up that soap before moving on to the next one, the next day I'll want to open up another one! (Note that I've only actually done that once. I am usually able to contain myself and wait.) Seriously though, these soaps are so divine that I bought them twice as gifts for people, and both times the thought of giving them away nearly killed me. One of those two times I admit I kept the soaps for myself and gifted something else. Unhealthy obsession.

Yum... I'm addicted to these soaps

My third recent obsession is a more healthy one. Depending on how you look at it. Lately, out of nowhere, I've been craving exercise DVDs. I don't even typically work out. Meaning never. But back in high school I had one dance-ish cardio VHS (yes VHS) that I loved. Something recently rekindled my interest in this and let me tell you, this is THE MOST time consuming addiction of them all. I have different dvd wishlists on amazon all geared to specific exercises: there's a list of cardio dvds, stretching dvds, strength training dvds, yoga dvds, dance inspired dvds, pilates dvds, exercise ball dvds... you name it. So far I've given in and bought 5 of them. That's just so far. I know future purchases will be made. But guess what? I actually use them. I have no idea where this sudden interest came from. I think it's because I have a lot more time on my hands now and I don't know what to do with myself.

Me exercising to a workout dvd... if I were brunette and several shades more tan (tanner?)
Change those two things and insert an image of my dog jumping around my
feet annoying me while I try to workout and this picture is pretty accurate.

I think I'm mostly safe so long as my obsessions stay in the realm of dvds, books and soaps. If I ever have a dire need to collect cars or classic artwork I may be in trouble. But you'll be sure that I have done my research and only bought the best there is! Maybe I am a shopaholic... just a different breed. My obsessive, planning type may be more dangerous to wallets than my spontaneous, impulsive counterparts.

2010-10-22T11:28:00.002-04:00

I have an obsessive need to use every coupon I receive. This is not good. But, you may say to me, you're saving money! So what's the issue? There are several issues. Time for a (semi, not really) brief list of said issues. I've bolded the key points for easy reference, not that it's really beneficial, or that you particularly care:

I typically end up spending more than I'm saving. Yes, I get some good deals, but me receiving a coupon means me buying something I most likely wouldn't have bought without said coupon. Example: Trisha gets coupon for $10 off a purchase at a Nike outlet. Does Trisha need new sneakers? (No) Does Trisha even like Nike products? (Not particularly) Will Trisha still go to the store and buy an $80 pair of sneakers for $70 just to use the coupon? (Of course)

CVS is another good example. You know how you get those coupons at the bottom of your receipt for say, $2 off a pack of brand XYZ sleep-aids or buy-one-bottle-of-wrinkle-remedy-get-one-free? You can bet I buy every single one of those items, most of which end up in a random drawer at home... because really, how much of that junk do you need? Yet I can't resist the incentive of savings! But, you never know, maybe someday I'll decide to go back to taking Flintstone vitamins or a young cousin will stay over and it will be my chance to teach them about healthy habits... and I saved money, so the purchase can be justified, right? Of course, I get these coupons every time I visit CVS so each visit ultimately leads to just another one. Vicious cycle of unnecessary spending.
Going hand in hand with issue number 1 is that you usually have to spend X dollars to use the coupon or rack up say, 10 purchases at a store to get $20 off your next one. Both cases lead me to spend more than I have to. Instead of buying just one item I may actually want or need, I have to buy four to get the discount. Great example here is this deli I've been frequenting in between work and rehearsals during the week to kill time (and have some dinner). Now, I work in one of the richest, most expensive counties in the country. Things here are far from inexpensive. A regular old sandwich at this little mom and pop deli could easily cost me more than $10. After every purchase they give you a green slip of paper with their logo on it. Turn in 15 of these and get a free sandwich. I've gone there every day, determined to earn 15 of these said coupons just to be sure that I get a free sandwich for my loyalty. It's to the point where I'm sick of sandwiches. To be honest, I'm looking forward to the day that I finally get my free slices of bread and meat just so that I don't have to go there anymore. That's right, I said "have to", because going there is basically a necessity until I earn my well deserved free meal. At the end of the day I'll end up having spent at least $150 on 10 sandwiches just to get one for free that probably would have cost $2 to make on my own. But I need that free sandwich.
While coupons typically offer a good deal for whatever the particular store is, quite often similar products are available full price at other stores for cheaper than the coupon's discount offers me. Make sense? Best example I can give here is Borders. At least twice a week I get emails with coupons for 33% off any one item, or 20% off all paperbacks. Amazon.com's average savings (sans coupon) is something like 45% from the listed price. Almost all of the time it's cheaper to order books regular price from Amazon than to buy them at Borders, using the best coupons Borders offers. If it's not cheaper at Amazon then it's at least the same cost. I don't think I've ever once gotten a better price at Borders than at Amazon. Yet I get those bi-weekly Borders deals and HAVE to use them. It must be psychological with the savings. Well nice marketing campaign on their end, because I can't even tell you how many books I've bought at Borders in the past month alone. It seems every weekend I'm going there because I have another coupon it will kill me not to use.

Another word about that psychological savings thing... it really is a smart way for businesses to get customers in their store. Their regular price items could be as high as they want but so long as there's a discount offered, people will buy what they're selling. There's an Indian restaurant I go to whose prices are quite higher than average for the area. However, when they bring you the check the waiter always says "I gave you an extra 10% discount". Every time, without fail. So really, their ultimate costs are probably on par with other Indian restaurants in the area, or possibly still more expensive. But this "automatic 10% discount" makes me feel special and keeps me coming back. It's an obvious trick, but a smart one that I completely fall for. Honestly, I'm encouraged to return just to reward them for their clever business scheme.
Final issue with these coupons is that it's usually the same stores I receive coupons to over and over and as a result, I end up shopping there on a fairly continuous basis. I already mentioned Borders, a.k.a the reason why I need to purchase a new bookshelf due to my overload of books that keep coming in weekly. I must say they are the primary culprit. However, Express gives them a run for their money. (Pardon the trite expression). Now I love Express, but to me it's a "treat store". Its prices are higher than I can realistically afford if I'm shopping there to fill my wardrobe because I'm basically poor. I'm really a $30 or under for pants and $20 or under for tops type of shopper and Express' average ticket price is closer to $80. Needless to say, I only shop there when I'm depressed and looking to splurge (retail therapy) or if I can get a really good deal with a combination of sale prices and coupons. They like to send me $30 off $75 or $50 off $150 type of coupons. They like to send them to me a lot more often than I prefer to receive them. Because once it's received, within a day or two it is spent. I don't often buy new clothes for myself so this type of deal is okay with me, except when it happens more than once a month... and it's still difficult for me, who is usually a discount/bargain clothes shopper, to walk out of the store having spent $100 on only three items, despite the $50 off I received. Just last weekend I went to the store to make some big purchases using one of their coupons and what happened? Two days later I got an email for $30 off $75. Even though I just went to the store and spent over $100, I promptly went online and ordered some of the other things I had wanted, but didn't buy. If they sent me a coupon daily you could bet I'd probably own the store's entire collection within a relatively short time frame.
Okay, I lied about that being the final issue. While typing issue #4 I thought up issue #5. Usually the coupons you receive regularly are all for expensive stores. This is really kind of a combo of issues #3 and #4, but let's ignore that fact. I've mentioned Borders, I've mentioned Express, both of which have somewhat higher than standard ticket prices... depending on your definition of standard. For someone like me (read, very little to no discretionary income), standard = discount-ish places a la Walmart or Forever 21. Sephora is another place that sends me coupon codes on a regular basis. Do I really need another $30 eyeshadow? The overflowing makeup bins at my house will tell you no. But I'll buy it if Sephora's offering a bonus-size free item with any $50 purchase. (Then of course after the $30 eyeshadow I have to spend another $20 to reach $50 and in reality, an additional $25 on top of that in order to get free shipping because I refuse to pay shipping for anything).

Why do I do it? Why do I keep buying things I don't need, from expensive stores, just because they say "shop here between these three days and we'll give you 20% off your purchase"? It's completely psychological. Even if you don't immediately need something you purchase, discounts = spending more now to possibly save more later = being a smart shopper = little pat on the back to self + new stuff! And what's wrong with that equation?! It's like a little treat to yourself (fun new stuff!) that makes you feel good about spending money (because you saved money too!). It's indulgent without being overly indulgent. Who doesn't fantasize about getting luxurious new items? If you're offered a discount, it's a perfect excuse to go ahead and make that purchase you dream of! So what if the "luxurious" item is a new book or a fairly common pair of jeans? If you wouldn't buy it full price any other day, it's a luxurious item in my mind. Hence that exercise dvd suddenly has this feeling of luxury. It may be completely ridiculous, wasteful and result in some degree of "spending guilt", but I don't see my coupon obsession ending anytime soon. And ultimately, I'm okay with that. We all deserve a little treat from time to time... or bi-weekly :-) and you might as well feel thrifty while indulging, even if your savings aren't really so great. Justifiable or completely illogical?... don't answer that.

Do I need new fabrics? Not at all. Will I find a use for them
if I buy them? Probably not. Will I buy some anyway?
Most likely. Who can resist those colorful swatches!?!
(Or that lovely 10% off sign?)

2010-10-05T16:58:00.003-04:00

So it's been roughly 4 months since I've updated my sad little blog here. The reason is not from a lack of ideas... (at one point I had a written out a list of 6 or so blog topics I wanted to sit down and write... of course, now they all escape me... my memory is slowly dying away at age 24, although it was never that strong to begin with, while my ingenuity and motivation comes and goes in random outbursts). I can't blame my lack of writing on being too terribly busy either. I have been busy, but I've always been busy... it can't be an excuse now if it never was one before. I'm going to stop discussing why I haven't written. Just like that. Done.

Today's topic goes back to my old school style blogs. My more recent blogs have dealt with my ponderings on life, random ideas I dream up, bizarre lists I create, etc.. But back in the day I was not so philosophical, and I was arguably, less random. My blog posts were simply stories of what happened in my life, sort of like a humorous diary shared for the reading pleasures of the world (or just me, foolishly narcissistic in the belief that others rushed to read about my life). Today's post is simple... a story about something small and insignificant that happened to me that I found rather amusing.

So, on a recent weekend I went up to Mass. with my boyfriend to choreograph. The hotel we stayed at was no Ritz Carlton, but it had a decent enough pool slash hot-tub area that we were lounging around in. This hotel also had a couple of meeting/event type rooms, a ballroom, and the like for weddings, conferences and other such social occasions. Well, we had noticed during this weekend stay that there was some type of event or reception going on for an Orthodox Jewish group. It was kind of a difficult thing to miss. While we were in the pool area (switching between the hot tub and the pool so as to avoid the groups of children) we saw the whole Jewish group start to convene in one of the hotel's big event rooms. All of a sudden, around the corner, through the traditionally dressed sea of Jewish men, women and children, comes a man decked out in the full on Scottish garb.

That's right. Full on Scottish garb. He was carrying a bagpipe of course. Did we miss something? Did this Jewish group hire a Scottish bagpipe player? That somehow strikes us as odd, but what do we know? We're not Jewish. I suppose it's entirely possible Scottish bagpipe players are part of their customary traditions, however incredibly unlikely it may seem. (Just kidding?) Or maybe they just wanted to let loose with a little Celtic music. (Just kidding again?) We look with curiosity.

Scottish man starts playing his bagpipe. Then he starts walking around the pool, playing his bagpipe. Even the crazy pool children stopped splashing. It was just too bizarre to do anything but stand there and watch. Many of the hotel's rooms had sliding doors that opened directly to the pool area. These said doors opened in rapid succession at the bagpiper's first few notes. It was difficult to tell if people were more a) confused, b) angry at the noise or c) pleasantly surprised by the evening's entertainment. One man pulled out his cell phone... I thought he was calling someone to complain, but Vinny thought he was calling his wife. I think Vinny's guess was closer because sure enough the guy held out his phone for whoever was on the other end to listen and enjoy. He pulled up a lounge chair and sat outside his room. I'm still watching the Jewish clan entering the room, trying to notice if any of them are finding the music bizarre or, on the other side, if they're waiting for him to enter the room. But they seem to pay him no mind and as for the Scottish dude, he stuck firmly to the pool area.

Vinny got up to get his camera just as the guy stopped playing. I watched bagpipe and player round the corner and disappear. I should have followed. All I can say is I'm fairly certain that he was not hired by the Jewish party. Maybe one of the other halls was rented for a Scottish wedding and he was tuning up around the pool? Good acoustics? Maybe he was just a tourist with an unusual hobby who thought no one would question him if he wore a strange outfit? Whatever his purpose, it was amusingly out of the ordinary and rather fun to observe.

This was the closest image I could find of a bagpipe player near a pool, and a possible lake background is hardly a pool. Just goes to show how rare a bagpipe player near a pool is. I attempted searching jewish bagpipe player first but there were no results.

2010-06-07T17:18:00.008-04:00

Little things that make me extraordinarily happy:

When I get new messages in my email inbox. Even if 99% of it is spam... or bill payment requests... I still love that initial rush of excitement when next to my little yahoo avatar is the note that I have new messages. You never know what those messages may be. I'm one of many people who obsessively check their email, multiple times each day. It's always delightful to have a new message greet me. And yes, it gives me satisfaction to check the little boxes next to the irrelevant messages I don't want to read and delete them away!

I still get backstage.com audition notifications (for free!) even though I canceled my account over 8 months ago. I've checked this over with them multiple times. Each time they assure me that my account was canceled last fall and that I'll stop receiving the emails in a matter of days. I continue to get at least 5 e-mails a week from them. The information I'm getting should cost me $16.25 per month. They've never charged me and I've never paid them a penny. I'm going to stop complaining to them :-)

Getting a new book. I was never a "non-reader" who hated books, but I really got into reading just a few years ago. You might say I'm one of the many who started reading due to Harry Potter. Now, few things make me happier than getting a new book (or a well priced used one from amazon) to add to my collection. I'm often guilty of reading several books at once-- right now I'm in the middle of 4. I just love reading new stories or learning something new... it's rather difficult to not get swept up by it all.

I couldn't resist this image because not only is it a pile of books...
but they're all orange.

Nor could I resist this image, because it's so cheesy and predictable.
"I love books!"... awww

When I'm outside and can actually smell flowers. Fake floral scents, like in perfumes or candles, are probably my least favorite of all scents (vs. woody, oriental, fresh, fruity, blah blah blah). But when I'm walking outside and suddenly pick up the scent of actual flowers I am always urged to stop and linger. It's simply delightful!

I may not literally stop, drop and... crouch to smell the flowers

like this shirtless child, but I enjoy their scent nonetheless

When things work out perfectly. I'm a far cry from being OCD. I'm fairly messy and disorganized with my things. My alphabetized within category DVD collection is probably the only organized thing in my home. And yet, there is this definite OCD side of me that gets really excited when, say, the train stops so that I am directly in the middle of a door, or if when driving to an appointment I pull into the parking lot exactly on time, not one minute late or early. Aren't moments like this fantastic?!

When I can find some sort of "mathematical significance" for something... either number or pattern related. This is related to the whole "things working out perfectly" ordeal. Simply a subcategory because the examples above are more obvious... these ones here only a legit number nerd like me would ever pay attention to or care about. I love it if a book is exactly 400 pages or a movie is exactly 2 hours. Or if I notice that there's exactly twice as many men as women in the car of my train one morning. I often do nerdy things that involve counting and grouping. I sometimes spend a while trying to force a pattern out of things and make them end up perfectly. Take, for example, the number of each color M&M in a bag... if there's an equal number of each color that would be a momentous, celebratory occasion indeed! Other (more likely) scenarios can make me really happy as well... like if there's an even number of each color, or if I can execute a particular color pattern without having any left over... I could easily spend 10 minutes with a bag of these chocolate candies, counting and grouping them in various ways, before any would get eaten. Now take into consideration all the ways I could count and group cars in a parking lot, the shelves of makeup in a store... the more patterns I can find in something, the happier I get. Perhaps I shouldn't have confessed to this...

My patterns can get rather elaborate...

Getting my favorite drink at Starbucks, which I discovered when given the wrong drink one day (I then greedily kept it rather than returning... who got the white chocolate mocha with a shot of espresso that I did order, I'll never know). Growing up I was one of those "only snobs go to Starbucks" types who criticized it for being more expensive and trying too hard. (Did it make me a snob to think of Starbucks this way?) Now I think of it as an expensive treat, partially because of how I felt as a child. Even if I go there more often than Dunkin Donuts... it's set in my mind that Starbucks is a luxury item. So besides the tasty beverage and boost of caffeine, some of the happiness brought upon by my Starbucks drink is that I feel like I'm pampering myself. And who doesn't love pampering?

Even their little marketing message here screams luxury, pampering, treat...

Discovering a new music artist whether it's through Pandora, categorical searches on CDBaby or reading reviews on Amazon, every so often I come across an artist who I simply fall in love with. It's always refreshing to find something new (or not so new, but new to me) with a unique sound.

As a concluding, random note... something that should make me happy but never does is treating myself to buying something. Retail therapy has the reverse effect on me... if I get new clothes (or shoes, or a book, or a dvd) instead of being pleased with my new items I always feel guilty for spending the money. Even if it's a great deal, even it's something I really need vs. just want. There's always the guilt. I'm terrific at spending money, which is why I'm so bad at it. That is all.

2010-05-05T16:58:00.010-04:00

So, latest random thing that got me thinking? Fairy tales. Don't worry, there's no sappy, fluffy-fuzzy talk about happy endings with a side of glitter here. If anything it's the opposite. I started to think about the types of lessons these "innocent" stories really give to kids. The more I thought about it, the more twisted I thought these stories were. You might as well skip the fairy tales and just read your kids the latest tabloid with Lindsay Lohan on the cover. Every single story I thought of had some sort of inappropriate lesson or terrifying statement about the world we live in. Here are some of the common themes I found (once again, I've turned my random thoughts into a sort of categorized drawn-out essay... making sense of nonsense). Anyways....

1) It's okay to treat badly those who treat you well. Not only is it okay, you will be rewarded for it.

First example here is The Frog Prince. The frog helps out the princess by fetching her fabulous golden ball she simply couldn't live without. What does she do next? She lies to him, breaking her promise to befriend him, and leaves him (quite literally) in the dirt. If that's not enough, when the frog shows up and kindly reminds her of her promise, she repeatedly is rude to him, turns him away and refuses. The story we all know ends with her kissing the frog and wha-zam!, he's a prince. Allow me to share the actual, original ending.... princess throws frog against the wall and when he hits it (wha-zam!) he turns into a prince. In some versions she instead attempts to be-head him or burn his skin. Lovely, right? Pretty gosh darn close to a kiss. All this violence and lies and what's her punishment? A handsome prince and happily ever after! Great lesson there.

That's right, try to kill that frog. The more violent and malicious you are,
the more handsome he'll end up!

Next example, Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack climbs up the beanstalk and runs into giant's wife. She not only warns Jack to steer clear of her husband (rather than attend to her wifely duties of providing her giant-husband dinner), but when Jack stupidly ignores her warnings and asks to be fed she obliges. She feeds the boy a nice meal before sending him on his way. She feeds him on his next visit too. How does Jack repay her for her kindness? By stealing their gold, their hen who shoots out golden eggs, and their magical harp thing. Naturally, Jack ends up rich and happy while the kind giantess and her husband are killed. By Jack none-the-less. Because the only thing to do if someone catches you stealing is kill them. Of course. Jack the protagonist hero is really Jack the thief and murderer.

Jack's mother is praising him for being a good little thief

This leads me to sub point, 1a. It's a sub point because it's not really a cohesive, separate thought and I'm trying to cover for my lack of ingenuity by hiding it within point #1 rather than separating it out on its own. Of course, mentioning my intention like that completely counteracts it. Regardless,

1a) It's fine to steal from or mislead someone if that someone is ugly or you simply don't like them.
Both The Frog Prince and Jack and the Beanstalk work here too. Princess thinks frog is heinous so she treats him like crap. Jack steals from Giant for no reason other than he's big and ugly and has nice things. (He wants to eat him too, but I doubt Jack's purpose in stealing was revenge on the Giant who has yet to even see him... It's an established practice to side-step points that contradict one's argument. If other people can do it, I can too. So from now on, expect me to ignore contradictory points instead of offering a side note in parentheses.)

Another good case-in-point here is The Emperor's New Clothes. These swindler folk demand insane payment and more expensive gold thread than they could ever use (because they use none) for making the King a bunch of nothing. Yet they're the clever ones in the story... the closest thing to the "good guys" that this story has. They steal from the King and make a complete fool out of him. But it's okay because the King is vain and all vain people deserve to be taken advantage of. At the best what they're doing is teaching the King a lesson, but is even that a lesson we want to teach to kids? That it's okay to steal or humiliate someone so long as they deserve it? Probably not. Okay, back to full fledged, important enough to be bold, points.

2) If you take someone's food you could literally die.... or have your baby stolen.
Some people are protective of their food. When I was younger I knew not to take one of my brother's french fries or I'd risk being attacked. And god forbid I get the piece of the cake with the flower on it. If I eat someone else's left-overs in my house I may be ignored for the rest of the week until I decide to go to the same restaurant, order them the same meal and hand it to them as a peace offering. But all of that is nothing compared to what happens in a fairy tale if you take someone's food. Seriously, I'm surprised children ever try to sneak a grape at the grocery store after hearing these stories.

Goldilocks eats some porridge. (She also breaks and enters... and vandalizes a chair. Ignore that part of it.) Goldilocks eats some porridge. Next thing she knows she's facing three bears ready to tear her apart. She's so scared she jumps out the window... we never really learn if she lands safely or not. Allow me to share a direct quote from the original story, simply because it's too humorous to not share. This is legit, I didn't make this up. "Out Goldilocks jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the fall; or ran into the wood and was lost there; or found her way out of the wood, and was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell." Anyway you look at it, Goldilocks paid for eating that porridge. And there's a good chance it cost her her life.

Goldilocks dead from a bowl of porridge?

Next case in point, Hansel and Gretel. Yes, they were starving, yes it was actually someone's house they were eating (a slightly more criminal offense), and yes, it was the house of an evil witch who put it there to lure them, but still, these two kids were tortured. One was starved, the other over-fed, and both were nearly burned alive and eaten... all for consuming some of this witch's house. No sympathy for the starving?

In Rapunzel the pregnant woman (more commonly referred to as Rapunzel's birth-mother) wants some of her neighbor's radishes. So her husband, loving and doting as he is to his wife's pregnant cravings, goes and gets some for her. Neighbor turns out to be a witch (surprise!), finds out about the radishes and demands that they give her their child once it's born. I don't think this was the main lesson in Rapunzel, but because of this story I was terrified growing up to even look at my neighbor's garden. Don't take someone's food or they will take your baby. Clearly an equal exchange.

3) Do good things for others only if you will get something in return.
One story here we already touched upon. In The Frog Prince the frog will not simply help out the princess by going for a swim and getting her her gold ball. Before jumping to her assistance (ba dah ching!), he asks her "what will you give me in return?". It's a little bribe action going on here. Sure, I'll help you out... but only if you help me out.... Rumpelstiltskin feels bad for the miller's daughter who can't weave straw into gold. But he won't just use his magic to weave it for her and save her life. No, she'll die unless she gives him something. So she offers some trinkets which appease him for awhile. But, in the end he's not happy unless he gets her (unborn) kid. Won't just save her life and weave some gold to be nice.

Another good one is The Elves and the Shoemaker. The elves help out the shoemaker, doing all of his work and making him hundreds of pairs of luxurious shoes that earn him loads of money, but the minute the shoemaker shows his gratitude by making the elves some clothes so they don't have to run around all naked the elves peace out forever. (Complete side note: this reminds me of Dobby from Harry Potter. You give a house elf some clothes and they're free to go. I'm sure it's related. End side note.) This also seems to say to kids don't acknowledge someone's kindness or else they'll up and leave you. Let others do your work for you and don't so much as say thank you. It will make you rich. But main take-away from these three stories? If you're going to do something for someone, make sure you get something out of it too. Or else don't do it. Simple as that.

4) Beware of family members. They will abandon you during walks in the woods, try to kill you or turn you over to be killed.
Some of these examples are obvious. Evil stepmother anyone? Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White all had them. I think Sleeping Beauty's was actually a mother-in-law. Either way, they all had new female additions to their family who were intimidated by their good looks and therefore hated them and wanted them dead (or in Cinderella's case, it's toned-down considerably by just making her do chores and wear rags rather than attempting murder). It's no wonder kids aren't supposed to like their step-parents. They learn it from these stories. Let's talk blood family here though. You may have thought nothing of these at the time, but you're going to look back now and be shocked that you didn't pick up on the disturbing qualities of the following stories.

Our favorite evil step mothers

Three Billy Goats Gruff. A goat's walking along and is nearly attacked when crossing a bridge. How does he save his life? By offering up his brother's. "Don't eat me. I'm too thin. My brother's coming along. He's fat. Kill him, not me." Now there's a lesson. Let your siblings fend for themselves. Feed them to the enemy and hope they can get out of it. If not, at least you're safe.

The most common theme though in terms of why you should fear your family has nothing to do with stepmothers who want you dead or siblings who will sell you out to save themselves. Instead it gets at the most primal childhood fear. Being abandoned. I'll start out soft with this one... the less offensive abandonments, if you will. Perhaps the one we're most ready to forgive is in Beauty and the Beast. Belle's father runs into the beast who basically tells him "bring me one of your daughters or else I will kill you." Because we know the story, we know the Beast's intention wasn't to kill this said daughter, but the father sure didn't know that. In his mind he would bring the Beast one of his daughters who would be killed in place of him. Yes, the father was a good guy... urged Belle not to go, etc. etc. but he still let her, expecting her to be killed. Some protective parental urges in action there.

Another one we're more likely to forgive is the woman for promising her unborn child to Rumpelstiltskin. At the time she had no idea if she would ever even have a child, and it's easier to give up something you don't have yet. Also, if she didn't agree the king would kill her. And, she tried relentlessly to not give up her child once it was born by trying to think up some ridiculous name. But still, she offered to abandon her kid to a strange little man. There's another example in Rumpelstiltskin, and that's the father who subjects his daughter to have to turn the straw into gold in the first place. He wants to impress the King so he says he has this wonderfully talented, magical daughter. That move right there would have cost him his daughter's life if Rumple Stilt Face hadn't shown up. But no matter. At least the King was impressed by him.

I already glossed over another example earlier. In Rapunzel the parents essentially just hand over their child as payment for taking the witch's radishes. Do they die before letting her go? Do they go searching for her after? Shout out in the woods for her to throw down her hair? Or do they accept that giving up their child is a fair price for some pregnant craving? That's right. Choice d.

The worst case of being abandoned though I think is in Hansel and Gretel. The family is poor and starving. So naturally the only option left is to go for a walk in the woods with the kids and then purposefully lose them. Time to celebrate, now there's only two mouths to feed rather than four! Seriously, between this and Snow White, where she's led into the woods to be killed, I would not trust going for a walk in the woods with anyone. Or at least I wouldn't let them leave to "collect firewood" without tagging them with a GPS first.

Look at us sad little German children left to die in the woods.

5) Love ugly people because odds are, they'll become handsome
Beauty and the Beast, The Frog Prince, Snow White and Rose Red... in all of these stories the ugly creature is really a prince in disguise, telling us... go ahead, love that unfortunate looking, acne prone boy with the abnormally large nose... not because he has a good heart or is fun to be around, but because he's going to surprise you and be strikingly good looking some day. Shrek and Fiona are seriously the only case where the ugly stay ugly. And that's not even a real fairy tale... it's a hollywood cartoon creation of a fairy tale that makes fun of fairy tales. In real life if you're unattractive, you more or less stay unattractive throughout your life. There are exceptions. But it's rare. Let's not lead children into a false sense of hope. The Ugly Duckling is another good case. Don't let others make fun of you for being ugly... not because you love yourself and have high self-esteem, but because some day you're going to be gorgeous and show them all! Again, a false sense of hope. The message sent here is about as far from "love others for who they are inside" as you can get. It says if you're different, you will be made fun of. And you won't become popular and well-liked until you magically become pretty. And for those who end up seeing past the unattractiveness and love someone for who they are, their reward is that their beast is transformed into a suddenly beautiful person. That's like saying we should reward someone who gives up all possessions and devotes their life to charity by giving them millions of dollars. Or maybe it's nothing like that. I don't know. I'm confusing myself. This blog is too long.

Keep thinking that's what you look like because some day it will come true! Everyone will stop hating you because you're no longer ugly! Hooray!

Literally every single story I thought of had some sort of negative lesson or theme. According to The Three Little Pigs the only way to deal with someone trying to break into your house is to kill them. The Princess and the Pea tells us to be high maintenance and rude and you'll be rewarded. (Seriously, your provided accommodations is a set of 40 luxurious mattresses and you're going to tell your host you had a bad night's sleep? Apparently her rudeness worked cause she got the prince!) Even Little Red Riding Hood which has a pretty clear cut, valid lesson (don't tell strangers where you or your relatives live if you don't want to die) has a subliminal, deeper sort of disturbing message. Steer clear of the road less traveled; conform to society and stick to "the right" path or else you'll get what's coming to you. A little dark, yes. But perhaps valid.

In summary, avoid telling fairy tales to children. They're chock full of bad lessons and are bound to lead to criminal behavior and irrational fears. I'd stick to more wholesome forms of entertainment. You know... sex toy parties, uncensored episodes of cops, strip club outings, listening to the latest Britney Spears song.... stuff like that.

2010-04-26T17:02:00.004-04:00

In our culture people are obsessed with having the perfect figure, losing weight, staying healthy. You would be pretty hard pressed to find a single woman's magazine cover that doesn't sport the phrase (pun completely intended) "2 minutes to flatter abs!" or "15 reasons you're not losing that weight (and what to do about it!)" or "Tasty recipes that won't ruin your waistline". Basically each of these articles recycles the same tips, exercises, facts and recipes and just re-polishes them with new headlines and glossy photos to make them seem new and exciting. Seriously, don't we all know by now that many small meals a day is better than 2 or 3 large ones? That eating too late at night contributes to weight gain? That strength training will not make you look like a bodybuilder so women shouldn't shy away from it? That many hidden calories are in what you drink rather than just what you eat? That there's no such thing as "spot reducing" by targeting a specific muscle when you exercise? That watching TV during meals encourages us to eat more? (Shall I add yet another example? I could keep going... don't worry, I'll resist the urge.) Yet they package all of this up as new information and send it our way. And of course we eat it up. Once again, pun intended.

Well, I just found a bit of "new" research that threw me a bit off track. The headline of this here article was "Laughter Affects Body Like Exercise". The fact that both exercise and laughter have similar effects isn't new news.... both can reduce stress, improve blood pressure & cholesterol, strengthen the immune system, and blah blah etc., etc... It's one of those facts that magazine editors like to throw in to a couple of issues each year. Like I said, nothing new. But what caught me off guard was a particular study that they talked about in this article that was done to further "prove" that the effects of laughter are similar to those of exercise. One of these shared effects, they say, is a healthy appetite. Fine. Sounds good, right? Who can argue that a healthy appetite is, well... unhealthy? Listen to this...

They took two groups of individuals and showed each group one of two different videos, one was upsetting and the other, funny. While these groups were watching said videos they monitored levels for two hormones that affect one's appetite. The distressing video was the first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan. Can't argue that that's not distressing. Funny video was stand up comedy. Stand up may not be everyone's cup of tea, but it's certainly funnier than Saving Private Ryan. End result? The hormone levels of the people who watched the funny video changed as if they had participated in moderate exercise... translation: they were hungrier. So they're saying that one of the health benefits of laughing is that it makes you want to eat. Does this strike you as funny? Laughter is similar to exercise in that it makes you hungrier.... meaning you will probably eat more... and there's a good chance you're not going to reach for carrot sticks or soy nuts when taking in a funny movie.

Personally, while I know that yes, muscle weighs more than fat (another favorite fact of magazine folk), I think the main reason I gained weight rather than losing it when I was working out more regularly wasn't because I was gaining muscle... it was because I was starving after each time I exercised. And so I ate. Sure, I ate relatively healthy (after my gym trips I'd make my way to Subway to eat fresh, Jared style), but I ate SO much more food when I exercised often. I'm not arguing that exercising is a bad decision... just one that will probably lead to weight gain (so, naturally, it should be avoided at all costs. hah). But in all seriousness, isn't it slightly amusing that this study says a common benefit of laughter and exercise is that it makes you WANT TO EAT?

So, a closing word of advice... if you hate exercising, just try laughing 20 minutes a day rather than jogging. The benefits are the same. But when you take in this good dose of laughter beware of the salt and vinegar chip craving. I'd avoid Subway too. In fact, it might be easier to just avoid exercise and laughter altogether. Yeah, go with that.

These women like to laugh between sets. After their exercise
they're going to Olive Garden for the bottomless pasta bowl.
That laughter cost their bodies at least 2 extra bread sticks.

2010-03-12T17:08:00.003-05:00

I consider myself a lucky person. No, I'm not one of those people you'd look at and constantly think "man, why does she get all the luck?" and no, overly fantastical things do not seek me out or seemingly fall in my lap. As a matter of fact, they don't even make my acquaintance all that often. I have a pretty average life. When I say I consider myself a lucky person I merely imply that I have the necessities, and that in and of itself is lucky. I have people who care about me who I care about back. I know what I love and I'm able to make these things part of my life. That right there is luck.

When I was thinking about this earlier today I came across an odd realization. I owe a big thank you to Coin Operated Boy by the Dresden Dolls and another big thank you to A Chorus Line. That may sound silly, but I am being completely sincere. Both have impacted my life in huge ways in the past 3 years alone... they have given me the two things I previously mentioned as being lucky for having. Still may sound silly. Relax, I'll explain.

Let's do the Coin Boy reference first. If you don't know the song it's a sort of playful, dark cabaret sounding ordeal that one might say has overtones of loneliness and a desire for a relationship with lots of (physical) affection without the chance of getting hurt... but one is more likely to say it cleverly (though not subtly) talks about a sex toy. My college roommate introduced me to the song and I ended up choreographing to it my junior year. Choreographing a dance to such a musically creative song, in my mind, gave me permission to really play with the movement. Although I had done choreography before, this unique way of looking at dance and creating this piece made me absolutely fall in love with choreographing and helped me find my own style and choreographic voice. Today, anyone who knows me will probably tell you that musical theatre is my first love, but choreography is a close second. I credit that passion for choreography entirely to the process of having created a dance to Coin Boy. I affectionately call the dance "my baby" and know it's what ignited my passion. Without that experience, who knows if I would have ever developed this love for choreography, if I would have ever found my style. But the song did more than open me up to the joys of choreogrpahing. It completely, single-handedly changed my taste in music.

Dresden Dolls in Coin Operated Boy

Pre-Coin Boy, as I like to call the phase (totally kidding) my musical listening included pretty much two things: 1) Broadway soundtracks, and 2) Turning on the radio, station flipping for 10 minutes, getting frustrated that nothing appealed to me, and turning off the radio. I always enjoyed music pretty much entirely because I enjoyed musicals and singing. I was not a "music fan". Coin Boy (as I have affectionately nicknamed the song) completely opened my eyes as to what music could be. The song has a completely inventive use of instruments (or ordinary objects as instruments) along with drastic changes in dynamics, melody, vocal tonality, etc. It made me eager to find as much music like it as possible. With the assistance of pandora and similar sites I soon found several other "dark cabaret" artists and eventually the list expanded to include folk artists, indie rock artists and singer/songwriter types with only one thing in common: they were all very different from what you normally hear. The one song opened me up to a whole world of creative musicians and artists with new, different sounds that often borrow from old influences (one of my favorite artists describes her sound as "modern ragtime"). I love two things especially in music: 1) When lots of different instruments are used. I'm big on heavy percussive beats and equally big on violins/classical piano used in unexpected ways. Though toy pianos, washboards and the sounds of paper being shredded work too. 2) When there are big changes in the song... from slow to uptempo, calm to frantic, major to minor, whatever it is, so long as it's drastic. I now have a solid musical preference and quality I look for in new artists, when before there was no type of music I claimed to be "my music". Now "new music searching" is somewhat of an obsession of mine. Coin Boy not only brought me to my love of choreography, it is the reason I was able to find music that I love.

On to Chorus Line. Where to begin. I'll premise by saying I don't even like the show all that much. Yet, it has managed to have a major impact on me and keeps creeping into my life. I've done the show three times. Read, still don't like the show all that much. Why do it three times then? First off, I like shows with lots of parts... lots of parts means I'm more likely to get one. Secondly, I like shows where some of the main people are dancers... only because I'm so often looked at as "just a dancer" and therefore given a part in the ensemble. I joke around and say I have "the dancer's curse"... once I was offered a dancing role after doing the dance part of an audition, before I had even sung. Even though I was hoping for one of the other roles I was immediately labeled "a dancer". Chorus Line was always the one show for me that I thought I have a decent shot of being something more. I mean, they all have to dance. The only time I was ever given legit parts in shows was after a director had worked with me and decided I was capable of more than just dancing. So even though I never liked the show all that much, I had a strong desire to be in it. Little did I know the opportunity would arise for me to do the show three times in two years. Nor did I know how much each time would impact me.

A Chorus Line

First time, senior year of college. Can't believe I actually have the chance to be in this show. Audition for Cassie, heart set on it. First time in my life I get the role I wanted, rather than my "other choice". I think it was the combination of achieving that, and with this particular show, that had such an effect on me. I became so attached to the role that it killed me to have the show end. I broke down on stage in the middle of my number. I still get this odd feeling whenever I see other women play Cassie. I said then, and I still believe, that I will never be as attached to a role as I was to Cassie. I believe I (somewhat stupidly, through tears) said at the time that that was my moment. That was it. Even if I were to some day "make it", nothing would ever compare to how I felt the first time I was Cassie. Sounds silly I'm sure. But I can't describe how strongly that role affected me.

Second time I did the show had a big impact in two ways. First and perhaps most importantly, it got me involved in theatre again. Before college I did one show a year, if that. During my four years of college I only did the one show. I had pretty much accepted that after college I probably wouldn't be performing again. Or if I did, it would not be happening on any sort of "normal" basis. Maybe every few years something would come up. That's pretty much all I expected. Well, a year or so after graduating I decided on a complete whim to type "Chorus Line CT audition" into google and see if anything came up. I was surprised to see an audition listed for a community theatre group that would be doing the show that summer. I took it as a sign and went to audition. From this experience I found out about all other theatre groups in the state and since that Chorus Line audition less than a year ago I have performed in 6 shows-- more than I had done ever done in my life combined prior, and all in one year. All because I decided to do a little google search on the show, and a group happened to be doing it that summer, I ended up immersed in performing again. Doing what I love. And a lot of it. Here comes other big impact of this particular production-- I found myself incredibly humbled. Like I said, it's the one show I always saw myself as having a chance in... a chance to be more than "just a dancer". Well, what happened? I was cast as Zach's assistant... arguably the only role in the show where you had to be a good dancer and that was it... zero singing, very few lines. Here it was, the one show that I always aspired to be in because I could avoid the dancers curse and I had managed to get a dancing only role. This, combined with the fact that I had so recently just finished playing Cassie, a role I was so attached to and was no longer associated with, took a huge emotional toll on me. Being in that production was incredibly difficult for me. I felt childish the entire time that I got so upset throughout the process of rehearsals. I felt awful and even worse, felt guilty for feeling that way. Yet by the end of it all I had come to terms with everything and I left the experience grateful for its effect on me and with how much I had learned about myself.

Third time I did the show was literally about a month later. I decided I would try to get one of the roles I had so desperately hoped for the previous time. This time I was successful and got to play Kristine. While performing it was a lot of fun, the real impact the show had on me this third time around was not the show itself but in who I met. We didn't really start talking until two months after the show closed, but the guy who played my husband and I are now dating and I'm happier than I've been in a very long time.

So look, Chorus Line gave me my ultimate performing dream role experience, a summer filled with major humbling slash learning and growing, brought theatre back into my life in a huge way and gave me a great guy. And Coin Boy ignited my love of choreography and helped me discover my musical taste. So like I said, a big thanks to Chorus Line and Coin Boy!

2010-02-18T15:03:00.006-05:00

I am an academic at heart. Other people may choose to use a different word here (nerd comes to mind)... I don't shy away from using this myself. I did, after all, create the facebook group "Self Proclaimed Math Nerds". I may not be your stereotypical nerd, but I am a proud one none-the-less. What can I say? I'm a curious creature, always eager to learn more. I'm known to spew out bizarre facts and am a frequent visitor of wikipedia, looking up information on whatever random topic happens to pique my interest at the moment. But lots of people are curious, right? Am I really that abnormal?

Answer: Perhaps I am. Now that my school days have (at least for the moment) come and gone I find myself actually jealous of high schoolers I see working on math homework, envious of college friends researching and writing a paper. I know, I'm bizarre. It's not like I eagerly looked forward to studying and doing schoolwork when I was actually IN school. But back then it was mandatory, and anything that is a "have to" is usually met with some degree of resentment. Now there's no one telling me I have to get this set of problems or that analysis handed in by Tuesday at 11:59 p.m. Learning was, however, my favorite part of pre-college school days and one of the highlights of college as well. While everyone in their right mind looked forward to lunch or gym periods (or studyhall... which I never chose to "take"), I was the one enjoying making flashcards and anticipating what we'd be reading next in English while dreading the social aspects of school life. Since I've graduated, I've not only picked up old math textbooks and worked on problems, but I've actually purchased new textbooks for my reading/problem-solving pleasure. When I say I miss college I miss more than just the friends, parties, dance company and campus atmosphere.

Yesterday is a prime example of my nerdiness. During the day I was bored. Very bored. So I visited livescience.com, a site with cool, random articles and lists that I often frequent in an attempt to appease my curious mind. There was an interesting article on the facts behind "going Green"... what's really good for the environment vs. what things people typically think of as being cleaner/more energy efficient that are actually bad. It reminded me of how much ridicule I got in college (as a largely apathetic individual on a very activist do-good campus) for not recycling. I jokingly said then that I was "an economist and not an environmentalist" and that recycling costs millions more dollars than throwing things away. People got angry. I realize that you, reading this, are probably now angry too. Perhaps prepared to call me ignorant. The fact of the matter is that I had at one point seen an episode on the discovery channel that pointed out all the negatives of recycling. This blew me away... I had never before heard anyone say recycling is not what we should do as good, "moral" citizens. It's not like the show convinced me of anything, but it made me curious enough to look into the topic more... start up my own research project if you will. I spent weeks reading as many academic articles as I could find on the issue... not too many people are anti-recycling. I found that there is however, a small but vocal group who do believe it is not the way to go. And they're not lazy, apathetic, ignorant people... if anything, they're strong environmentalists and big supporters of wasting as little as possible. Anyways, I was reminded of all of this while visiting livescience.com yesterday and it made me want to take on another new "research project" to satiate my ardent curiosity and relieve some of my boredom. I intended to spend the next several hours looking up information in order to find the perfect topic. While I started off reading some things on how it's ridiculous to believe there's not hundreds of other, more advanced life forms out there in space and then on the inexplicable physiological explanations for intuition (inexplicable explanations, haha), I ended up finding (and reading in its near-entirety) a 47 page "article" discussing the pros and cons of recycling that was published in a journal a few years back. After I was done I felt a strong urge to write a critical opinion essay on the topic. Don't worry. I refrained.

I have a constant need to learn more (and apparently to write essays and solve math problems). Maybe some day I'll go to grad school. For now I'll have to settle with helping people edit their papers and secretly buying used textbooks.

Just think of me as the non-stereotypical nerd girl choosing to read while her

classmates in the background choose the ever-more popular activity known as socialization

(and ignore the "waterstain" that shows I stole the photo)

2010-02-03T15:56:00.003-05:00

Interesting blog topics used to fall into my lap. I swear to you, they sought me out. I would regularly encounter bizarre situations or hilarious characters that begged to be written about. Something like this has not happened in a very long time. Now, I generally have to rack my brain or ask for suggestions in order to come up with something to write about. Occasionally a topic will come to mind organically... but very rarely anymore does something happen that makes me think "I can not wait to blog about this". Maybe my perception of the world around me has changed. Last week, however, an interesting blog topic downright tackled me during my train ride home and here I am today, a few days later, hoping I can remember every detail of the story and retain its humor in my retelling.

Setting: January 28th 5:40 p.m., Stamford train station, outside, 17 degrees... 0 with windchill, 5 minutes until train arrival, went outside 5 minutes early because voice-over attendant man said "New Haven train now arriving on track 4"... he lied, I have 5 minutes still to go. I stare off at nothing in particular, looking at the ground, when walking into my line of vision is a pair of legs in dark baggy jeans and timberland boots. When this person invaded the empty bit of pavement I was staring at I was pulled out of my daze and looked up casually. The baggy jeans and timberlands belonged to a young 20 something African-American guy with long dreadlocks, a black shirt and a clerical white collar. My initial thought I'll admit was not "isn't he freezing?", it was, albeit stereotypical of me, a surprised reaction to see such a young man wearing a priest's collar, especially in combination with the rest of what he was wearing. I was intrigued. At this point I even thought to myself, hmm... there may be a blog here. Almost immediately however I dismissed the thought... so I see a young priest in some street clothes, big deal. I realized quickly that he was probably not a priest, but rather a deacon. Irrelevant.

Fast-forward 5 minutes and I'm on the train. Deacon guy sits down directly across from me and next to another young 20 something year old woman. I pull out my book and begin to read when I hear them start to talk. I kept reading for awhile but very quickly I was drawn into their conversation, not caring if they noticed that I was still reading the same page after 30 minutes and could probably guess that I was eavesdropping. She begins the conversation "So, you a priest or something?". I suppress a smirk, I admit it. (From here on out my internal thought bubbles will be in italics). Priest man: "Actually, I'm a student of theology." Silence. More silence. Silence lasts a good 13 seconds. Priest man: "You know what theology is?" Silence. More silence. Silence lasts a good 13 seconds. Other people besides me sit there in silence and don't respond to people? This is new to me. Priest man: "It's the study of religion. From a biblical perspective. So the only book we need in class is the Bible..." and added as an afterthought "and a notebook to write in." Apparently the girl finally thought of something to say and replies, "That's cool. Do you get to give speeches in churches and all?" ... Speeches, sermons, whatever. Same thing. Priest man: "I get called in a lot to do funerals. Because I'm young." Now, here I don't blame her for her silent response. I don't see the connection either. He does funerals because he's young. Makes perfect sense. Note sarcasm. I guess priest man realized that in fact it didn't make much sense and he chose to explain... "Because so many young people are being killed nowadays... whenever someone young dies they call me in to run the funeral. It makes the families feel better to have someone else young there in charge." I still don't see it but, okay. He said the worst part of it is when it first happens and they call you to "the crime scene" to comfort the families. Where the on the earth is this kid from that there's so many murders of children and crime scenes? Somewhere close enough to warrant him being on my train? I mean, perhaps NYC... okay, that's possible, probable. But still... He went on to say how the first thing they tell you is not to cry when you're "running the ceremony". That's the first thing, really? Is "ceremony" the right word? He explains "I mean, if I cry I'm not going to like, get fired. But I'm supposed to come off as a strong support." "I wouldn't like, get fired..." I found this amusing verging on hilarious. Well, as hilarious as something related to a funeral could be. Imagine firing a priest, or expelling a student, for showing emotion at a funeral. At this point I look up as if looking to see if the ticket collector man is coming by and I notice priest man's hand on the girl's shoulder. Very odd. Is priest man hitting on her? What is happening here? I also happen to notice the huge Rolex on his wrist... "diamond" encrusted, the type that shows 3 different times at once. Aren't you supposed to give up things like that or something? At this point I decided to go back to my book. I felt bad for listening in... and it was a good book I had been looking forward to finishing up on the train.

Well what was said right as I made this decision to continue reading made me flat out put the book back in my purse. Ready for it? Priest man: "So, you wanna grab like tacos or something? Maybe catch a movie?" No wayyyyy, priest man is actually hitting on her! Can they do that? I mean he's not a priest yet, but shouldn't he be practicing? Maybe he's not going to be a Roman Catholic priest... aren't some of the other Christian denomination priest people allowed to date and marry? Are they still priests or are they called something else? Do they still wear white collars? I need to look up more about religions other than my own... I'm surprisingly un-knowledgeable in the area. At least regarding clergy and dating. (All of this was a split second thought by the way. You know how your mind can think so many things simultaneously or at least in such rapid succession that you're amazed you thought so much in the matter of 2 seconds? Yeah, one of those moments). Okay, sorry for interrupting priest-to-be and woman's dialogue. Re-cap, priest asks woman out for tacos. Woman says "Are you allowed to do that?" Eagerly awaiting priest man's response on my end here. Priest man gives a funny smile and says "Even holy men have to f*cking eat" Am I alive? Did I really just hear that?!? Did priest man just swear!!!!!! I'm tempted to ask him to repeat himself because I'm in such a state of disbelief. Woman laughs. Laugh of nervous disbelief? Laugh because it would be funny response to you if it was just a normal "non priest" saying it? Laugh because it's a funny response precisely for the reason that it is a "priest" saying it? Any way you look at it, I think she heard what I heard. At this point I'm so completely drawn in, waiting to see what happens next that I'm practically just staring at the two of them. Woman decides to ignore the food comment (and the swear... and the invite out) and goes back to the movie comment. "So what kind of movies do you like?" Priest man doesn't hesitate "Probably have to say gangster movies. Like mobs, mafia... that stuff" This is too much to bear... a swearing priest who likes movies about violent criminals and suggests tacos to seduce women. I couldn't make this up. I heard her ask what his favorite movie was but regrettably had to get off at my stop before I was able to hear his response.

Seriously contemplated skipping my stop to hear the conversation out and then catching a return train but decided that was just ultra sketch and pretty lame. Looking back though I think it may have been worth it.

I could not find an image of a baggy jeans, timberland & rolex wearing priest
but this odd ensemble would have been just as bizarre to see and therefore
seemed equally fitting... google images labeled him a "punk priest"

2010-01-26T15:51:00.004-05:00

I had a bizarre dream last night. Bizarre dreams for me are not unusual. Actually I take it back... not the second sentence, my dreams are unusual, but I take back the first sentence. This dream wasn't so much bizarre as it was interesting to me (and probably boring to you). It mixed together 4 musicals (and a movie). I'll explain it later for anyone actually interested. But this dream did make me start to think about dreams in general. They're one of the biggest mysteries out there. Most people have on average something like 14 dreams per night (I made that up but I know it's a sizable number) and yet we remember less than 5% of them. There are countless theories on why we dream at all and why we dream what we do. Some say it's a way of processing memories and eliminating unnecessary information from the brain. Others believe it's a reflection of our subconscious hopes and fears. And there are studies that claim they're completely random sequences that mean absolutely nothing and are based entirely on neural signals. Then there are other theories that say, for example, that dreams allow the repressed parts of our mind to be satisfied through fantasy while keeping our conscious mind from thoughts that would suddenly make you wake up from shock. And I think it was Freud (or some other famous psychoanalyst) who claimed that bad dreams teach the brain to gain control over emotions that are a result of distressing experiences, thereby literally helping us to cope. Who knows what dreams are all about... all I know is 70% of my dreams are nonsensical and bizarre (read, random). Then maybe 15% of the time it's a clear story/situation with some degree of believability (no supernatural slash impossible events, just improbable ones). 10% of the time my dreams really get me thinking about some part of my life (these are the ones I think reflect my subconscious) and the other 5% of the time I wake up amazed by the cleverness of my sleeping mind (usually it's a really awesome dance that I'm watching and I wake up wishing I could remember what my sleeping self choreographed, other times it's just a really clever, witty joke someone says in my dream and I wake up wishing I were funny enough in real life to think up something like that... you get the idea. Basically I'm more clever while asleep than awake. Good quality to promote about myself.) Really, when I think about all of the dreams I can recall in my lifetime, last night's dream was pretty normal.

So here is the dream, to the best of my recollection. Maybe 1 in 12 people will actually enjoy this. Make that 1 in 12 theatre people. But I'll still tell you about it, because I find part of it amusing. So, I dreamed I was auditioning for the musical Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Quick one sentence background info: There's only one role I would ever go for in this and that actual character's name is Christine Colgate. End background info. In my dream I was debating between two roles in terms of which one I should audition for. One of them was Janet van de Graaff (wrong show entirely... she's a character in Drowsy Chaperone) and the other was Veronica Corningstone. Yes, I know that's the character in Anchorman. Allow me to explain where I think that came from. See, in the dream I was picturing the character of Christine Colgate, including an image of the original actress who portrayed her, Sherie Rene Scott, but I merely had the name confused as Veronica Corningstone instead of Christine Colgate. Part way into the dream my image of Christine Colgate (or should I say Veronica Corningstone) switched from Sherie Rene Scott to Christina Applegate, the actress who played Veronica Corningstone in Anchorman (except it was the Sweet Charity version of Christina Applegate I pictured in my mind circa the 2005 Times Square billboards, not the anchorwoman version of Christina Applegate in a suit).

Sherie Rene Scott as Christine Colgate

My new image of Christine Colgate

I think my brain became confused because Christine Colgate and Christina Applegate sound quite similar really. Change an "e" to an "a" and a "Col" to an "Apple" and they're identical. So anyways, I was debating about whether to try out for Janet van de Graaf (who at least I imagined correctly as Sutton Foster in her Drowsy Chaperone yellow nostalgic dress) or "Veronica Corningstone".

Janet van de Graaf

Veronica Corningstone

To aide in making my decision I decided to practice Janet's song "Show Off" and Christine/Veronica's random part where she belts crazy high in "Love is My Legs" (I say crazy high, it's probably like a D... your regular, standard D, not the crazy high one). And when I say I practiced these songs it was more so my envisioning Sutton Foster doing "Show Off" and Christina Applegate doing "Love is My Legs", complete with the dance moves, costumes and scenery... but in my dream-state this envisioning other people singing equated to me practicing. After I was done "practicing" I decided I was an ill-fit for both of these roles and that I would just audition for Peggy Sawyer instead (from 42nd Street).

And that was the dream. A combination of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Drowsy Chaperone, Sweet Charity, 42nd Street and Anchorman all wrapped into one. I really am a theatre nerd.

2010-01-15T12:17:00.000-05:00

I've decided I hate Winter. It's too freakin cold. An age old question that shows up on 9 out of 10 "fill this out just because" surveys is what's your favorite season. I've always been a Fall/Spring answerer, leaning more towards Fall... but during Winter I'm always tempted to put Summer as my favorite season out of sheer resentment of Winter and its coldness. (Because we all know Winter's opposite, and therefore arch nemesis, is Summer... and in my bizarre mind declaring "Summer" as my favorite season is a kick in the gut to Winter.... Because seasons have feelings.... of course). I've always said I liked living in New England because we get the four seasons. Which I mean, yeah it's nice I suppose. I went to college with some people who had never seen snow before, and I thought that was a pretty sad thing. (These people went berserk when the first snow happened. I'm talking you saw a single flake and they were outside in snow gear, determined to wait and watch for 4 hours until half an inch had accumulated, all the while eagerly anticipating the moment there was enough that they could make a snow angel.) Certainly when I was younger Winter was probably my most hopeful of all seasons. With Winter came the chance of snow and with the chance of snow came the chance of school being closed. Of course, I lived on the coast and was more often than not merely taunted by seeing towns less than 10 miles north of me having no school while we only got a 30 minute delay. Really, why did 10 miles north always get snow when we in Orange got a "wintry mix"? The curse of the coast. Even then Winter was frustrating. If you're going to get snow, might as well get enough to warrant a school cancellation. That was my thinking. Otherwise what's the point? Sure, it's pretty while it's snowing (and it always weirded me out that it's warmer when it's snowing too) but after the snow is done it just becomes messy and annoying.

Now that I'm older, and driving (and not in school), any forecast of snow is just frustrating. It means I will have to add at least an hour into my schedule in order to clean off my car, leave early to get places and drive more carefully than normal, all the while fearing that my car will slip and do a 360 (as happened to me once) and go flying off the road or into another car. And yet, even though I hate when I look at the weather and see "snow" listed, I get depressed if an entire Winter has passed without one good snowfall. Then it seems a waste. I'm difficult to please. Not really though... it's just that Winter inherently annoys me. January is prime Winter time too... it's at the point when you're over the cold. Christmas is done, aka the only good thing about Winter, so Winter should be too. Time to move on to Spring.

Some people love Winter. You know the type... not the ones who tolerate it or the ones who enjoy snow, but the ones who really LOVE Winter. It's like with purple... I know how random that sounds and I agree, it's random. Allow a moment for an explanation (after which you'll still agree it's random). People generally have a favorite color but there are legit purple fans. I don't know why it's only that color that has the fanatics but I find it to be true. If someone's favorite color is purple they're usually obsessive and protective of their choice (do not insult purple in their presence). Well, Winter is to seasons what purple is colors. There are Winter fanatics. This is unfathomable to me. I mean, I suppose if you ski or ice skate (of which I do neither) okay... maybe then. But really... who prefers the cold to a comfortable temperature? What, do you just have fantastically stylish winter gear you love to show off and wear? Matching scarf, glove, hat set? Cute boots? I don't know. I suppose I'll never understand. Just like I don't understand what's so fantastic about purple. All I know is I'm ready for Spring. Now, please.

2009-12-30T13:56:00.000-05:00

Well, the new year is upon us. Time to begin another decade. I swear it was yesterday that we were all preparing for life to end with the Y2K scare. Sometimes I forget and think it's still the 90s... I can't believe I've had ten years to get over that and yet I still think of the 90s as being "now". 2010 sounds like the future. I mean, technically it still is for another 30 hours or so, but 2010 sounds like robot servants, flying cars, living in space kind of future. In summary of paragraph number one, this really weirds me out.

So now's the time when everyone sits down and decides this new year will bring changes and better things for them. They make promises to themselves, set goals to achieve, and feel a new sense of hope and positivity. My question is, why now? I get the symbolism and all, sure. New year, clean slate... new beginnings. What a tantalizing possibility! But really, the change from December 31st to January 1st is no different than any other 24 hour difference throughout the year. I was thinking about this whole "why now" and the purpose of resolutions and I kept going back to two highly contradictory thoughts on the matter, one extremely pessimistic and the other highly optimistic. I'm convinced that I firmly believe them both. Let's call this blog a journey into Trisha's pessimistic and optimistic revelations. And go!

Part I: Pessimism
New Year's resolutions are usually made with the highest intentions of following them through, only to be forgotten in the rush of everyday life. Then when the next December 31st rolls around and you go into your moments of self-reflection for the year you just get depressed that these goals were never followed through. So what do you do? Make it your resolution for the next year. Why do we do it? Face it, on New Years Eve (after one too many celebratory beverages) deciding to lose that extra 15 pounds may sound like a great idea. Let's start toward that goal by downing another beer! You may wake up the next morning still so enthused by the idea that you start thinking about diet and exercise plans, already envisioning yourself in the cute new clothes you're going to buy. But somewhere down the road you struggle. Maybe just a little bit. But enough to discourage you. Before you know it, your goal is lost, either ignored by you purposefully so you're not riddled with daily guilt, or you continue to make some efforts throughout the year but decide all in all it probably won't work out and you let yourself go, generally push it aside, figuring "it'll happen some day". We set ourselves up for failure and feelings of inadequacy, incompetency. The weight loss thing is just an example, but it's got to be one of the most common goals. I swear, everyone has the same 10 resolutions. In general, resolutions can all be classified in one of two ways: it's always losing a negative: quitting/dropping/cutting something (smoking/weight/spending or some other personal vice) and/or adding a positive: doing/finding/enjoying something (volunteering/new hobby/more family time)... something specific to help you live a happier, healthier, more fulfilled life. Problem with these goals is that they're not necessarily measurable and therefore not as easily achieved. (Touch of optimism and hope coming up...) You need something where you can develop specific, relevant, mini-goals along the way. Mini-goals that serve as a constant reminder throughout the year and a whole lot of commitment is your best bet. Even then though, not always gonna happen. (Fully back to pessimism...) Let's face it, 88 to 97% of New Years resolution-ers fail in their attempts. (Confession: I typed revoltuion-ers first instead of resolution-ers. Join the revolution and make a resolution! .... sorry) Anyways, that 88 to 97% failure thing? Known fact. Believe me, I research my statistics. And yet the majority of the U.S. looks at each new year and says I'm going to make this the best year of my life. Things will be different! ... Probably not.

Part II: Optimism
Well I'll be honest... I did have one clear pessimistic view and one clear optimistic view on the matter, but as I wrote the pessimistic section the optimistic view kind of died in me. I'll see if I can revive it here. (Another "I'll be honest" comment, I originally labeled this section "Optimistism" and I over-looked my error after several read-backs. Caught it eventually though. Obviously.) Here comes my attempt at optimism. I find it kind of sad that most people only take this one time each year to set goals for themselves. Shouldn't we be on a constant journey of finding a better, happier, healthier life for ourselves? Why wait until the beginning of a new year to decide it's time to change? If you're not happy about something, change it now! I'm constantly looking for ways to make my life happier and to become a better person. In 2009 I made a couple of big moves in an attempt to be happier. (Realized during my 2009 reflection period) And you know what, it made me join the crowd of people I criticized in the pessimistic section.... I think 2010 will be a great year for me! I don't think it will be a great year because of all the new, great goals I have for 2010 that I hope to achieve; I think it will be a great year because of the changes made in 2009 that have set me up for a happier future. I don't set specific goals regularly. (Touch of pessimism, devoid of hope coming up...) I really do think set goals, more often than not, just lead to failure. But it doesn't mean I'm not hopeful. If I desire a change and I see the opportunity, I listen to my instinct and make it happen. (Don't worry, back to optimism...) Best part about this way of thinking? Without set goals, you can't fail. There are no deadlines you have to worry about not making. You live life as it comes and take opportunities as they come. It's a way to seek out happiness and avoid stress. If it's something you really want in your life and you're committed to the change, you will make it happen whether you define it as a goal or not.

Now with all this back and forth-ness I think I've confused myself on what I really believe. First it was equally both thoughts... then entirely pessimistic and now that I've finished the optimism section I'm feeling oddly light-hearted and joyful on the matter. Why not... let's go out with some optimism! Every year is a new beginning yes, but so is everyday. You only live once. Don't wait a year to attempt a change you can begin today.

God, I'm so cliche.

2009-12-18T17:10:00.001-05:00

You know how if you're reading a book you start to develop an image of the characters in your mind? Similarly, you know how if you talk to someone a lot over the phone, but you've never met them you also end up creating an image in your head of what they look like? (I'm thinking like a work contact rather than some strange "phone pen-pal" type of scenario. Hmm... phone pen pal... a situation where there's no pen involved... a pen is the instrument used to write a letter to a pen pal and in this case it's your voice that's the instrument to convey a message to this not-known-in-person friend... would it be called a voice pal? Anyways... pointless tangent, I know. It's how my mind works.) So, as I was saying, you create these images in your head of what these characters or people "should" look like. Usually it's completely unintentional... it's just the imagination at work, giving you an image to associate with these people- whether they're fictitious or actual living humans. So you have these pre-conceived images and then what happens? A movie comes out and suddenly the characters don't look like you envisioned them. Or you meet the mystery phone person and are can't help but think "that's not who I've been talking to. Who I've been talking to looks nothing like that" because you can't get the previous image of "what they look like" out of your head.

It takes awhile for me for the character (read, not-real-human) thing to latch on and for the actor playing the part to become the main image I associate with the character, rather than what I came up with in my head beforehand. Like Harry Potter was still a cartoon image in my head (an image, I'll admit, that was initially aided by the illustrations on the front covers and beginnings of each chapter in the books) until book 5 when while I was reading I realized I was imaging Daniel Radcliffe instead. (Side note... at first I wrote that as Danielle Radcliffe and I had to stare at it for a solid 3 minutes before I realized why it looked wrong. End side note.) And, I had just gotten used to the image of Dumbledore being the actor from the first two movies when the new actor stepped in (for legitimate reasons) and my mind's image of the character was completely confused. I have those moments when I see a movie version of a book and just think the actor is completely wrong compared to what I imagined. For example, Confessions of a Shopaholic. I've always loved the book series. I had created an image of the character from reading the books. I even used to imagine to myself, if it were to become a movie, who should play Rebecca Bloomwood (later Brandon). Shortly after picking the ideal actress I began to only envision Kristin Davis (of Sex and the City) whenever I was reading, instead of the original image I had of the funny woman obsessed with shopping. When the movie DID come out I struggled so much with the fact that it was a redhead, first of all, then with the fact that it was not Kristin Davis. I couldn't get into it. Then there's the reverse type of scenario where I see a movie first and then read the books... so the image of the characters is already in my head as being the set of actors. In this case I can't help but wonder what my mind would have created for the characters if I had no set image in my head already of what they look like from the movies. Prime case of this for me is Lord of the Rings. I'm reading the books now for the first time and while I hadn't seen the movies beforehand, they were a big enough hit when they came out that I had already developed images of the characters from previews and promotions and such. So when I began reading Frodo automatically became Elijah Wood. I think it's funny the process our minds go through in re-creating image associations. For me it takes awhile for things to switch over from what I originally imagined to what is shown to me as "the actual character", aka the actor representing the character. Is it kind of related to the old question of how many times it takes to meet someone before an initial reaction can be changed? ... Except in this case it's how many exposures to or how much time it takes before an initial image associated with a character can change to what's being presented to you.... I guess it's not really related at all, but I thought they might be some type of similarity to draw there. Just ignore me.

So it's all fine with the land of make believe and re-imagining characters. But when it comes to real people I guess I thought it would be different. In reality, it's much harder for me to switch over these images when they pertain to real people when I would think it should be easier. For example, at my job there are several people I work with over the phone on a regular basis. I'm talking I've heard their voice daily for the past year and a half. I have developed images of each of these people. I don't purposefully create an image... it just happens. Sometimes, I eventually meet some of them. If they don't look like what I have envisioned (and come on, what's the likelihood that my imagination is that good? If they look like what I've envisioned I would start calling myself clairvoyant) and... what was I saying? Oh, right. So, if they don't look like what I have envisioned I am, well... I'm not completely thrown off, because I never really expected them to look like I had pictured, but I have a hard time after the initial meeting re-creating my image of what they look like. Lots of times, when I picture them afterward I still picture my old image rather than what they actually look like. I would think that once I've met the real person the old image, that was really based off of nothing but voice and perceptions on personality, would disappear and be replaced by what they actually look like. But no! Of course, the more often I see the actual person the more likely the image is to be replaced. But, for example... there's a couple of people I work with regularly over the phone and since I began at this job almost two years ago I've met them in person twice now... each time a year apart. The second time I met them it hit me that even though I had seen them before, for the past year I was still picturing them the way my mind initially did... I was picturing these "characters" of what they "should look like" and they weren't replaced yet by the images of what they actually looked like. As I result I was slightly awkward during the second, year later encounter, as I tried to subtly yet intently study their features so their faces would be ingrained in my mind and hopefully overtake what my imagination decided these people look like.

Another similar type of scenario is when you see pictures of someone before you meet them... in this case I don't have a hard time "re-adjusting" my images of people, but I'm completely thrown off by it if they don't look like their pictures or they don't act like how I thought they would based on their pictures. I've talked to some people online before meeting them and more often than not, gotten a general idea of what they look like from pictures (actually, it's more likely to be the case that I didn't talk to them before meeting them, I just "know what they look like" from pictures before meeting them... the wonders of facebook and some pre-encounter borderline-stalking... don't judge me, we all do it). So even though the pictures are, obviously, pictures of these people, you don't ever really have a clear image of what someone looks like until you meet them face to face. But I see these pictures and get an image in my head of what they look like. Then when I meet them I'm slightly thrown off if they don't look JUST like they did in their picture. Something seems off. It bothers me. This is arguably one of my most random blogs, and I'm pretty random. I also feel as though I just rambled on about nothing for the past x amount of words. Probably reads that way too. It's okay, I'll still click "publish post" and let the rest of you read it.

2009-11-29T04:59:00.008-05:00

About once a month I allow myself a therapeutic cry. Well, I shouldn't say allow... it makes it sound like I limit myself to a certain number of crying experiences but that I hold back the rest of the time. I'm not one to cry much in front of others, but I allow myself to cry openly when alone. I see no point in holding back tears and sometimes will even encourage a good cry when it's been a while. I'm not entirely sure if it's because I think I'll feel better afterward (even if I wasn't all that sad to begin with), or if it's that I find the experience itself to be sort of the prime form of introspection... with the tears comes an outflow of emotion that surfaces thoughts that may have been locked deep inside my subconscious. It's almost a spiritual experience for me, though perhaps not in the sense one may typically think when they think of something as being spiritual. It's just a form of expression...

Every form of expression is in essence therapeutic. Why does anyone speak, write or create to express themselves? It's about forming and sharing opinions and feelings. We all feel better when they're let out in some fashion. Isn't the experience when crying similar to this? Whether crying alone or with a friend, in silence or while talking, the thoughts that come up during the process are a sort of therapy through expression.

A lot of the time, for me, I'll start crying and not know why. I honestly would not be able to tell you where the tears came from or what made them start. On the surface I'll blame it on past depression. But if I allow the crying to continue and don't wave it off as "some silly, no-reason tears" I get into a very self-reflective mode, thinking about my life... where it is, where it's been, where it's going. Sometimes I still can't explain the tears, which may make me cry harder. Eventually I hit a peak and shortly thereafter I calm down considerably, with a new sense of calm and collectiveness (and connectedness). Sometimes a headache. But always the feeling that I just went through a sort of cleansing. The key is to never tell myself "time to stop crying"... instead, I try to draw it out as long as possible, until I have no tears left that I want to cry. Then I feel better.

Of course, the tears don't always come out of nowhere. Sometimes it is the self-reflection that comes first and warrants the tears. Or something happens that makes me cry. It's at these times that I realize the power we have as individuals to make ourselves feel better. It's a process, yes. But the therapy for me doesn't come in the tears alone, but in the thoughts that come with the tears. Things are put into perspective. I am always able to convince myself that while things at the moment may not be okay, what is happening is for the best, and will shape who I become and the course my life takes. As much as I may not want or like things that happen, I can come to terms with the fact that they still may be the right thing or what I need, either to teach me something, to help me grow, or to make me happier in the long run. And I find it important to always take a step back and think how blessed I am and how in comparison, my troubles are so minor compared to what other's experience. And at the same time I have to tell myself that despite this realization, it's still okay to be upset and concerned about what I'm going through.

If there's one thing I've learned in my still short life it's that everyone has it the worst. No one person's sufferings are worse than another. Or at least you can't think of it that way. We can't discredit someone's pain by saying their problems aren't too bad. We don't know what they're experiencing. Think about those teenagers who commit suicide and seem to have the perfect life... where nothing on the surface is wrong. Growing up I went through a phase when I was experiencing something particularly difficult for me. I was convinced that no one else in the world could understand the pain I felt. I had it worse than everyone else. Anything others tried to say about their bad experiences in attempt to comfort me only made me hate them for thinking their pain could compare to mine. No matter what, their lives were perfect in comparison. Since then I've seen far worse things happen to other people than what I experienced at the time. And I've seen other's suffer seemingly worse for things I would deem far less extreme than what I went through. I find it important to always think about this to put things in perspective. I don't want to ever discredit others' emotions, so I do not allow myself to discredit my own. I'm comforted when I think that yes, other's have it worse than me, so I am grateful for what I do have, but that it's okay to still feel my pain, with no feelings of guilt.

If you can guess, this blog came after one of these "therapeutic cries"... hence the 5:00 a.m. posting time. The blog itself is a further therapeutic step, as it too is just another form of expression, as much for myself as anyone else. Yes, it's nice to have others to turn to when things don't go your way, but I've never been one to discredit the value of a night of self-reflection, and a good cry to realize that things are going to be okay.

2009-11-24T15:52:00.000-05:00

Quite often I find myself intrigued by commonplace things. Usually, these thoughts begin with "Whoever thought it would be a good idea to..." and finish in any of a wide variety of ways. Almost anything can follow that "..." (still don't know the name of those dot dot dots). Usually there's a relatively practical or historical answer, but I'm intrigued nevertheless. For example, who ever thought it would be a good idea to make movies? How did they know people would want to gather around a screen to watch some made up story? Certainly it stems from a history of live theatre but even that... who decided to write these things called plays and perform them in front of a group of people? Does that stem from storytelling? Does it all stem from playing make believe as a child? I could occupy myself for hours thinking about this and researching it all, usually still left unsatisfied with the answers I find. And movies is a rather explicable one. Take instead something like bubblegum. Who thought it would be a good idea to make something that you chew and chew and don't swallow and it never (slash in-reality-just-takes-a-long-time-to-before-it-gets-grainy-and-gross) dissolves? Expand that out to all types of food... who decided to throw plant like things in water, watch what happens and call it tea? Or drink the white liquid that comes out of a cow's udder? Moving away from food, who decided it would be a good idea to stand up on a piece of wood on the ocean, wait for a wave and call it surfing? Who decided the standard way to earn money would be by going somewhere and working 9-5 on everyday but Saturday and Sunday? Pretty much any human invention, activity, or societal norm can be inserted after "whoever decided it would be a good idea to..." and form an interesting thought.

One that always gets me, and which I'll exclaim to a friend or family member usually every other month or so out of a sheer disbelief that is renewed whenever I really think about it, is the concept of pets. Yes, around the third week of every month containing 31 days (rough time estimate), if you were to sit in the living room with my family's animals, myself and my family, you would hear me say, "Do you believe we invite these animals to live in our home?!". Yes, I get the companionship and all and I am a big pet person. But the idea of this amazes me! Who on earth decided it would be a good idea to take wild animals (because all animals were once wild) and let them live in our homes... pay to feed them, clean up after them, and when medical advancements were achieved, pay for doctor's visits? I'm sure it all started with keeping animals for functional purposes... dogs for herding & hunting, cats for killing mice and unwanted pests, and over time these animals "mutated" enough or were selectively bred and had enough human interaction from a young age to not only see humans as a beneficent creatures, but also as surrogate parents. Their behavior literally mutated... the process of domestication. Afterall, weren't dogs once foxes or something? And who on earth would invite a fox into their home now? Like I said before, as with all my "whoever thought"s there's almost always an explanation seeping in history and a hefty dose of logic. But if I think about it on the surface it still amazes me... we let animals live in our homes! The idea that we took these wild animals and said here, live with me blows me away. You must have some equivalent to this... something rather ordinary that makes you laugh to think about.... or am I really just more curious slash odd?

This is reminding me of a blog from freshman or sophomore year about my future imaginary book entitled something along the lines of "Random Things You Never Really Wondered About, But Now You Will"... topics included things such as what happens to you during a heart transplant because you temporarily don't have a beating heart, where do gerbils come from since you never see them in the wild, and a twist on the classic "why is there a different # of hotdogs than buns in packages?" with why are toothbrush holders too small to hold toothbrushes?

Next time you're bored, play my "whoever thought it would be a good idea to..." game and if you have any level of curiosity or a bizarre sense of humor I guarantee you will be kept occupied, by your silent self, for a while. And fairly entertained at that. Then, you can bring up your silent amusing thoughts to others and watch as they stare at you, dumbfounded, wondering why you think about these things. It's a fun rainy day activity.

2009-11-11T17:04:00.000-05:00

So, I was thinking about music. Music styles, music formats. Taste in music. How it's all changed throughout my life. I can pretty much go through the timeline of my musical preferences and think of the music format I listened to, the style of music and how old I was. They're all grouped together. I'm sure it's no surprise that my early life began with cassette tapes, but I also had records. Not just parental hand-me down records, records were bought for me. Thinking back, I'm kind of surprised they still sold them new. It would be like buying a VHS nowadays.

Anyways, my cassette tape/record stage consisted of primarily "kiddie non-music" related, some music related geared for kids stuff, musicals and oldies. There are certain tapes I remember treasuring... one was my "Trisha tape"... one of those things you buy for babies to help them learn their name. In my case it got recycled past toddler years because I thought it was so cool to hear my name in all these songs. One side was for night time and the other side for morning. And all the songs were for me! "Goodnight, Trisha. Time to close your eyes, Trisha" and "Wake up, put a smile on your face Trisha!" I loved that tape. I also remember one of those tapes that accompanied an activity book... I was OBSESSED with it. Just as an example, you'd be doing a maze with a camping theme and they'd sing "We're going on a bear hunt" and tell a scary story that ends with you getting out of the maze safe and sound. I listened to the thing without the activity book all the time. Another favorite was Mary-Kate and Ashley's "I am the Cute One". Who doesn't love to dance to Broccoli and Chocolate or act out Don't Let Your Mom Go Shopping? What girl from my generation didn't fast-forward through My Horse and Me and the spoken word skits? I also had a tape that my parents had custom ordered for me... which I thought was the coolest thing in the world. It was a mix tape that was much cooler than just taping things off the radio because it had the song names printed on the tape and the tape was labeled "Trisha's Music" or something equally as standard and non-creative, but still incredibly exciting to a child because it mentions their name. It had my random oldie favorites like beach boys, chantilly lace, itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini, yakety yak, love shack, girls just wanna have fun etc. as well as some songs from musicals. This was the only music I knew to exist when I was younger. My favorite record was the Chipmunks Christmas album, but there were others, including a Strawberry Shortcake record.

I remember the first time I really realized there was other music besides oldies and musicals (and well, kid songs). I was in fourth grade and my cousin got a CD for Christmas... TLC's Crazy Sexy Cool. First of all, the fact that it was a CD was a HUGE deal to me... not many people I knew had CD players yet. I remember being shocked that he listened to this "modern music" (he was 3 years younger than me). I thought everyone listened to the type of music I did. Except for musicals, I knew not everyone listened to those. But the oldies... the groups from the 50s and 60s and the rock from the 70s and 80s. I didn't listen to a "top hits" station until 6th grade. This was also when I got my first CD, Sister Hazel, as a gift, and had to then go purchase a CD player to play it on. Thus ended the cassette tape phase of my music listening, and the oldies.

I did everything as a young teenager to feel like I fit in, as most teenagers experience at some point, to some degree. I stopped listening to my old tapes and the oldies stations, switching over to KC-101 and Kiss 95.7 and asking for the coolest new CDs. This was the teeny-bopper stage. Cassette tapes were oldies, CDs belonged to the bubblegum pop world. I followed all of the female solo girls (of which there were 4: Britney, Christina, Jessica & Mandy) and all of the boybands (mainly 3: N'Sync, Backstreet & 98 Degrees). I was OBSESSED with Christina... wore a belly-shirt to her concert to mimic Genie in a Bottle, clipped out every image of her I could find, and bought multiple versions of the same CD because each one was issued in a different country and like, a song name might be spelled differently. I bought anything fun and bubbly sounding (B*Witched anyone?). M2M was as non-mainstream as I got. And I thought they were so indie and I was so unique for finding such an awesome, different sounding group. I listen now and it's just as standard pop-ish as the rest of the music was then. I tried to watch MTV around this time too but no matter how much I wanted to like it, I couldn't get into it.

Then, there was this new fangled thing called the Internet. And with the Internet came digital music. You didn't buy CDs anymore. You downloaded them. Uploaded to an ipod. I didn't get an ipod until about 3 years ago, and even still, it's a baby ipod. A shuffle. I have yet to own a normal one. Too expensive. But you can bet I was still downloading music before I got an ipod. And with the digital music out went most of the pop-current hit listening. I'll still listen to the top-hit stations but I don't follow the current artists or buy their new cds. My taste in music changed yet again. During my older teenage years it transformed slightly from traditional sunny fun pop to more acoustic, emo-ish alternative pop. Like, I was a huge Dashboard fan, years before they became mainstream. During college years it changed yet again to a more quirky, bizarre, "anything new and different" type of sound... suddenly I'm listening to gothic cabaret, indie folk with a twinge of jazz, classical inspired electronic, bands that are as likely to play toy pianos, typewriters and wooden crates as violins or trumpets. Little artists no one has heard of. Found with the assistance of pandora.com, cdbaby, and "Other people who bought this item also looked at" lists from Amazon.

Besides this progression from records and cassettes with oldies, to CDs with pop, to digital music venturing into the indie and bizarre, I also have a recent addition of associating classical with radio. I've never been a classical music person. I avidly avoided any radio stations below the 95.7 mark... which ventured into country and classical land. But lately I've turned to these classical stations when driving home late at night. It's relaxing and refreshing to hear things that are always new to me (rather than the same 12 songs repeated over and over on other stations). It has a calming effect. Classical music always reminded me of Barnes & Noble, where it always seems to be playing in the background. (Do you ever associate types of music with certain places also or is it just me? Classical belongs to Barnes & Noble. Jazz belongs to Starbucks. Easy listening of the early 90s belongs to my old Orthodontists...)

I think it's kind of amusing that with the advances in technology and each new music format that comes out I associate each with a different genre of music based on my changing preferences. And it's strange to think this may continue throughout my life... with a change in music preference will come a new music format... though I can't imagine what more can be done besides digital music and ipods... though I'm sure people once said that about Atari for gaming systems also.

2009-10-30T16:28:00.002-04:00

So, tomorrow is Halloween. A day (well, evening) where children frolic about in overpriced costumes that get worn for a couple of hours and then shoved into the attic "for the memories". A day (well, evening) where it's okay to take things from strangers, despite constant parental reminders the other 364 days of the year to never talk to strangers, never mind accept candy from them (a stereotypical lure used by kidnappers), never mind actually EAT it (we check for pins in the chocolate first, so it's okay). A day (well, evening) where highschoolers race from door to door in their "I'm going as a teenager" costumes for the males, and for the females, their skimpy, sex-ified outfits under the pretense of being some type of "cute" animal or celebrity (despite the freezing temperatures). They beg for candy, knowing fully well they're a bit too old to be playing this game anymore and that the homeowners of where they're trick-or-treating really only want to see little children in their get ups, but they ignore these things... not because they don't want to grow up, but because, well, free candy is a good thing.

Halloween may seem like one of those holidays that's created by candy companies, but it's actually one of the world's oldest holidays. It's kind of remarkable to go through the history of Halloween and see how much it has changed over time, and how it's celebrated across the world. We think of it now as such a commercialized thing. Don't get me wrong, it definitely is, but it's roots are a far cry from the roots of say Valentine's day or mother's day. Just about everyone knows Halloween has something to do with old beliefs that spirits can come back this one night of the year. The story is part of the fun and tradition of Halloween today... ghost stories, graveyards, scary costumes, haunted houses and hayrides, horror movies... they're all associated. Now it's all fun and games but it's strange to actually think that way back when it was all taken very seriously. Family's ancestors were honored and invited home, including leaving plates of food for them at the dinner table, while harmful spirits were warded off by means of burning crops and animals in sacred bonfires as offerings to keep themselves protected. During the bonfires they wore costumes, typically animal heads and skins, to disguise themselves so evil spirits would mistake them as one of their own. I mean, this was serious stuff here. Sacrificing animals? They would also leave food on their doorsteps to appease evil spirits that roamed the streets that night. This could have contributed to the idea of trick-or-treating but it more likely stemmed from a tradition from a religious holiday, All Souls' Day-- November 2nd, where the poor would beg for food and families would give them pastries called "soul cakes" so long as they promised to pray for the family's dead relatives.

And somehow the non-secular and the secular joined together to make what is probably the most non-religious of all holidays. I mean, this is America, we're used to non-secular activites creeping into religious holidays... or, more like overtaking them. But Halloween isn't thought of as religious at all. And somehow it went from a day of celebration where people felt especially close to deceased loved ones (although it was also a day of sacrificing animals and burning valued crops), to a day of ghosts, pranks and witchcraft, to a holiday about bringing together the community in games, food and festivities, to a day where everyone gets free candy so long as they abide by the ever important rule of saying "trick or treat" after knocking on a stranger's door. You can see the connections between now and then (costumes, dead spirits, begging for food) but the 2000 year old road of changes still seem extreme.

I didn't intend this to be a Halloween history lesson. Alas, it has somehow turned into that. My apologies. Don't think I'm a walking encyclopedia on the topic of Halloween... merely curious, bored and an expert googler. I'm sitting here trying to think about my past halloween costumes. With the exception of costumes worn at college Halloween parties (cowgirl, 50's housewife, burglar) I honestly can not recall a single one. When I was younger I'm sure I obsessed over finding the perfect costume each year, and now I don't remember one of them. I'm even trying to think through the standard costume categories to see if some memory is ignited but I've got nothing. It's all a bit disappointing. Anyway, I think the concept of getting dressed up and running around your neighborhood for free candy is incredibly bizarre. I mean, really... take a step back... ignore the history lesson I just gave, ignore the fact that it's something you grew up with, and just think about it. We put on costumes. We ask people to give us candy, but it's not rude. We actually pick through their offerings to decide which we deem most worthy to be given to us. Again, not rude. We carve faces in pumpkins.

I'm just saying. We carve faces in pumpkins.

2009-10-15T17:05:00.000-04:00

I'm giving in. Explanation of opening statement later... background info now.

For the past ten years I have been an avid Harry Potter fanatic. I've read the books at least 6 times each, have the three supplemental books J.K. Rowling wrote for charities (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Quidditch Through the Ages & Tales of Beedle the Bard), own multiple HP analysis/reference/opinion books, visited mugglenet.com probably 912,000 times, contributed to discussions slash sent in either opinion or critical essays 612,000 of those times and of course, own all the available movies and have watched them to the point of memorization. At one point I even started an encyclopedia study-guide type list of all Harry Potter facts I came across while reading. (It was never finished but I somehow doubt that makes me appear any less of an extremist). I satisfied my HP craving before the final book release by gobbling up the countless, highly inaccurate 900 page "leaked" versions of Deathly Hallows that were inconceivably written (and formatted to look authentic) by highly ambitious fanatics with way too much time on their hands, read the 800 word prequel (actually written by J.K. Rowling) within 20 minutes of its unannounced online release, and still seek out new essays and analysis of the stories and characters. I'm up to date on the development of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park, set to open this Spring... anyways, I think you get it. When I said I'm a fanatic I wasn't using the word lightly.

I firmly believe that anyone who picks up Harry Potter and gives it an honest shot will become hooked, no matter how much they claim to hate reading. I get highly defensive... I'm very protective of this phenomenon of a series. I largely credit it as the reason I'm a reader today, as I rarely picked up a book prior to Harry Potter out of a sheer desire to read. Well, (this is going to seem like a big jump of topic) when Lord of the Rings came around it was too much for me and my fifteen year-old self to bear. Yes, I know LOTR was published over forty years prior to Harry Potter, but I feel like its fanatascism with my generation wasn't really ignited until the movies came out... which was right around the time I had gotten into the Harry Potter series. I'll admit, I didn't jump on the Harry Potter bandwagon right away. I started reading the series after the third book was released... when there was enough hype to make me curious. Like I said, I wasn't a reader beforehand. Of course, I was instantly hooked. Two years later, the first LOTR movie comes out and critics and fans are PRAISING this thing. I had always thought of LOTR as one of those books that was only read by those weird, fantasy obsessed, dreams about dragons, plays Magic: The Gathering, quotes Star Wars daily type of nerds. Far from mainstream, more like a small cult following... like Rocky Horror fans or something. And all of a sudden, EVERYONE was talking about this movie, reading the series. I absolutely refused. The only series that deserved this level of hype and fandom was Harry Potter. I would not be involved in something that in any way competed. It became Harry Potter fans vs. Lord of the Ring fans. In my mind at least. A new craze fighting the rekindled fanatacism of 45 years earlier. I was proud to announce I hadn't seen the movies. Comfortable with the fact that I didn't know who Frodo was or "get it" when people started muttering "my precious" in an odd voice. Give me Harry Potter, ignore "that other fantasy series".

Like I said, I didn't understand the LOTR craze or think it deserved a moment's glory. I was shocked, therefore, in tenth grade to hear my english teacher, Dr. Liberman (who any Amity high schooler thinks of as the most brilliant, cultured academic to hit the entirety of New England, and often thought she should be a professor at Yale instead. Seriously, I know someone who has her listed as their religion on facebook) what was I saying??? Oh right, someone asked Dr. Liberman what her favorite book was. We all expected her to pause and consider from among the plethora of worthy novels she's read in her life, or rattle off a handful of titles, claiming each is respectable in its own right. The thing is, we were actually interested... like I said, she was like a literary God- hearing her answer would be like interviewing Charles Dickens' and getting his response. Well, there was no hesitation on her end. She instantly replied that Lord of the Rings is the best thing ever written and went into a detailed analysis of its literary goodies after stating how she sets aside a week of her winter vacation every year to re-read the trilogy. I was horrified. How could she think this? She didn't seem like a medieval sword loving, dreams about dragons type. Are the books actually something more than just your standard fantasy story blown into astronomical, unwarranted proportions by an obsessive America? I respected Dr. Liberman's opinion more than nearly anyone I knew, so I had to believe her. But I still refused to read. I didn't want to be swept up in anything but my Harry Potter. I was still angry by all of the attention Lord of the Rings was getting.

Fast forward nine years and I still haven't read it, still haven't seen the movies. I don't get quite as angry as I used to if Lord of the Rings is mentioned, though I will admit I get more satisfaction than I used to when I see people's shocked reactions upon hearing I haven't seen any of the movies. But another new series has also entered into the category of extreme fandom. This one, I'll admit I was completely unaware of until the movie came out last year. Of course, I'm talking about Twilight. I don't know if the release of the movie sparked people to read the series more or if they were reading all along and I was clueless, but my recognition of the Twilight craze started last year. Here was further competition. Competition that was harder to beat now that all of the Harry Potter books were released. I'm more grown-up now than I was at fifteen... arguable, I'll admit.... so, I was less "bothered" by the Twilight series than LOTR... I would just not read the books and that was that. No need to get angry or argue with fans. To each their own. Just let me have my Harry Potter and the rest of America can read whatever inferior series they desire.

Now, to my opening statement. I'm giving in. After all this time, all of this protesting and defending, I'm going to read Lord of the Rings as well as Twilight. Why now? Well, first off, I have this impossible goal to read all of the greatest books ever written, and see all of the greatest movies ever made. There are lots of definitions of the word greatest. In this context, in my mind, greatest books means the classics 90% of America can name off the top of their head, plus "current" best-sellers... anything that's become a recognizable name among those who frequent Borders or Barnes and Noble. Greatest movies means "the permanents" on imdb.com's ever changing list of top 250 movies. I have come to accept the fact that Lord of the Rings fits into both the book and the movie category, and sadly, Twilight fits into the book category as well. I'm being harsh, but really... if there's a good book out there, I want to read it. There's something to say about so many people loving these stories, so I'm giving them a try. Besides all that, I really have been curious since Dr. Liberman's announcement of her favorite book. I'll be honest, I'm expecting to enjoy Lord of the Rings... probably become an obsessive fan, years later than the rest of the world... at the very least, gain a respect for the trilogy. I can't really conceive of the fact that it is a bad series, despite secretly hoping that I in fact, end up hating it. Twilight though, I expect to hate. I have never enjoyed a single "love story" novel, no matter how many other genres they squeeze in there. That, coupled with the fact that it really is geared to teenage girls, and deals with vampires (no matter how re-invented they are), and the fact that many, many, many critics and writers have said the author can't write at all, leads me to believe I will not enjoy this series.... probably hate it... possibly, enjoy it as a guilty pleasure, though admitting to myself that it's really pretty bad... definitely not respect it.

So there we go... I'm letting go of my Harry Potter defensive ways just enough to give these other series a go, knowing that they could never replace Harry Potter and that Harry would still win in an imaginary battle between any of the Lord of the Ring characters or whatever evilness resides in the Twilight series. I'm sure I'll have updates. As for now, I need to muster up the determination to actually go GET the Lord of the Rings. I've made the decision to read it but picking up the book too soon might scare me off. Need to get comfortable with the idea first.

2009-10-06T12:01:00.002-04:00

The other night I went bowling after a performance with friends who are also in the show. Besides thinking back to when I shamefully desired "bumpers" at age 14 but was too embarrassed to ask slash be seen playing with them, I found myself remembering how my dad glorified bowling alley french fries. Whenever we went bowling he would say "Have to get the french fries! Nothing compares to bowling alley fries" and as an adoring child I believed him whole-heartedly... that no other french fries in the world could compare to those found at your local AMF 30-laner. That was the other thing... it didn't matter what bowling alley it was: 10-pin or duckpin, 4 lanes or 50, national chain or hole-in-the-wall local, if they had a food bar (and they all do) and they had fries (and they all do) they would be phenomenal (and somehow they all are). I remembered his little tip: to always eat them with your left hand so your bowling hand didn't get greasy. I took these things as facts that I lived by... bowling alley fries are fantastic and when you get them, eat with your left hand. There was no arguing either of these. They were just true. To this day, I believe both... and while I'm not obsessive about only eating with my left hand, I still smile thinking back on this little tip that at the time I thought was a golden secret the rest of the world would only be so lucky to know. This got me thinking about other things from when I was younger.... things that I accepted as fact, and in some ways, lived by, in the appropriate situations (such as, when at a bowling alley)... things that intrigued me... that I found to be special in some way, even though when looking back they're at best simple and banal and at worst, illogical and idiotic. Allow me to divulge...

Let's start with one that's completely illogical but fairly saccharine. (Sorry for the formal word choice, it just came out.) One time when I was very young and sick with a stomach ache, my dad asked if I wanted him to rub my tummy (there's no grown up way of saying that). I told him no, that that never worked and it was a fake and stupid remedy that tried to convince your mind that it was like a medicine but really it did nothing (I was a clever, stubborn child who wasn't assuaged by the usual signs of parental love for a sick child). He told me that I must have been rubbing the wrong way. I was clever and stubborn, but also curious... what did he mean by the wrong way? He told me that if you go in circles in one direction you will feel better but if you go in circles in the other direction, you will actually feel worse. At the time he told me if it was clockwise or counterclockwise that did the healing. I don't remember which it was. This idea totally comforted me and I believed it 100% (how clever was I really?). My whole life I must have just been rubbing in the bad direction! What I now see as an obvious parental trick to get your child to feel better, at the time it was another secret tip-- one only my dad would know, and I felt lucky to receive this tiny speck of wisdom. In the future, whenever I got sick I would forget which direction was "the good one" and ultimately "remember" after my testing both directions and deciding that one felt infinitely better than the other. One time I remember I couldn't figure it out and I asked my mom which direction it was. She had no idea what I was talking about and told me it didn't matter how I did it. Obviously, my father hadn't clued her in on his cure for the stomach ache, or at least he didn't realize I would take it so seriously. While this should have been a sign that his medicinal rule was in fact made-up, instead it made me smile that my mother didn't know.... it was mine and my dad's secret... a tidbit of information so special that he didn't even tell it to her.

Here's another one that stems from an anecdote of my fourth-grade teacher. Fourth grade was the year you were forced to write in cursive for every assignment turned in. By fifth grade it was pretty much your choice, but in fourth grade, if you handed something in with printing, you had to redo it. An attempt to force us to be comfortable with script. Well, telling any fourth grader they HAVE to do something typically leads to complaining, or at least quiet resentment. To us 9 year olds, who had been writing in printing for our whole lives, an entire 3 and 1/2 years, cursive was the most unneccesary, complicated, useless thing to learn. Who cares if you can write words without lifting up your pencil (which is the reason every teacher gave as the benefit of learning cursive). It saves, what... point-oh-nine seconds? While I was an incredibly respectful child who NEVER questioned authority (and teachers were the highest authority of all), in my most secret thoughts I too decided that the minute I didn't have to, I would never write in cursive again. That is, until my 4th grade teacher shared this story... one day when my fellow classmates were, once again, complaining and questioning the reasoning behind having to write in script, she told us how she received a letter a few years back from an old student of hers and she was in complete shock when she saw that it was in printing and not cursive. She smiled in a knowing way and promised us that we will all eventually see that cursive is so much easier... it saves time and your hands never cramp, and that this letter she received surprised her so much because every adult she knows writes in cursive, except this ex-student of hers. While this was essentially a re-hashing of the "cursive is more efficient & easier to do" speech, this story fascinated me. I believed at that moment that every adult wrote in cursive and decided that this would be my own way of realizing when I'm an adult... when I prefer script to printing. I would be mature and grown-up the day I agreed with her and thought that cursive is easier and printing is a waste. Completely ridiculous, but it's what I thought. When fifth grade approached and I was allowed to actually choose between script or printing, I still went back to printing. Why? Because it was part of the process. At that moment in my fifth-grade life, I thought printing was better. I hadn't reached my stage of penmanship enlightenment yet. And that was okay with me. For the record, I never switched over to primarily writing in script. I don't feel guilty or immature. Part of me sometimes fantasizes about writing her a letter in printing, and picturing her being horrified.

Another school related one comes from gym class... my worst enemy. I was that child who hated gym. Who wore dresses on gym days in hopes of being told to sit out of the activity. I enjoyed two things and two things alone: rope climbing days (because it's fun to see a rope dangling from the ceiling) and the Connecticut physical fitness tests (because I liked to be better than everyone else). While not competitive in sports or organized games, I was highly competitive when it came to dance and schoolwork. Included in schoolwork is all forms of tests, and I wanted to be the best at the physical fitness tests. There were the passing marks and then the "challenge marks", for those of superior childhood health. Merely passing would not make me happy. Merely achieving the challenge goals would not make me happy. I had to surpass the challenge marks by at least 5 for things scored numerically (sit-ups, push-ups and chin-ups), come in 20 seconds under the challenge mile time, and be the very best of my entire grade at the sit-and-reach. If any of those were not achieved then I failed. We were practicing our mile runs in preparation for the test and I was only barely making the challenge time during these classes. While I was praised by the gym teacher, who normally saw me as the girl purposefully ignoring the games and putting in zero effort, I knew that my times would not do. Once, he said to the class how the most important thing in running is to establish a breathing pattern and that he always did "out-out-in-in" in short breaths while he ran. He credited this as the reason he was able to run fast and not get very tired. That was it. The key to my success. From there on out I wouldn't even walk in the hallways without breathing out-out-in-in. I once overheard a friend tell another classmate that her dad ran every morning and that he didn't breathe that way and that the gym teacher's method was wrong, it would hurt your time and is bad for your body. Again, I rolled my eyes at her inferior sense of judgement. Obviously, the gym teacher was right and if she chose not to take his tip then it's just another person I would outrun. I ended up reaching all of my physical fitness goals, and finished behind only one boy in my class in the mile that year. I KNEW it was because of my breathing.

Here's another one, somewhat related. Like I said, I was very competitive in dance, though very quietly so. I secretly wanted to move up in the company levels faster than everyone else. I wanted to have the highest kicks. I wanted to be front and center all the time. I wanted to be thought of as the best in the class. One thing that destroyed my self-esteem in dance for the longest time (aka until fifth-grade) was that I couldn't do a split. For me, who strove to be better than everyone else (at least I'll admit it), to be the highest off the ground in my class when we practiced our splits was absolutely mortifying. I'd go home and cry afterward, sure that all the other girls were laughing at me and how I was so bad at them. Once, my teacher saw me get teary eyed (which by fifth grade, yes you're still young, but not young enough anymore that it's commonplace to cry in a group of people when you're frustrated or embarrassed). It was on a parent observation day and I was so embarrassed by my splits and that my mother, and all the other parents, had to see them compared to everyone else's. The teacher came up to my mother after class and reassured her that I would eventually be able to do a split. She said it to my mother as if I weren't there but knowing that I was listening in... I think it was an attempt to save me from further embarrassment by not directly addressing me about it. She told her that all I had to do was straighten my back leg and eventually I'd be able to get all the way down. I had never heard this straighten the back leg rule before. I went home and immediately began practicing splits with a straight back leg. In class I'd still bend the back leg because it gave the appearance of being lower to the ground... when both legs were straight I was waaaaay too high off the ground for me to deem it acceptable for others to see. I felt like my teacher let this little rule slip just to me because she liked me the most of all the girls and wanted me to do well (I was a self-centered and insecure little child who, despite severe social anxiety and shyness, craved praise and admiration). A year or two later I had my splits all the way down and had progressed to doing beyond-splits (absolutely awful for your body, but impressive when you can go past 180 degrees). I became one of "the more flexible girls" and mentally thanked my teacher for giving me this secret piece of fail-proof advice. It was like I was given the gift of a piece of magic. This straight back leg rule makes complete sense physiologically but at the time it was something I obsessed over and thought no one else knew.

In summary I was an overly, overly conscientious and egocentric child.

2009-09-08T09:39:00.002-04:00

A blog about cars. No, not about sports cars or a new car purchase or detailing and "ride pimping" or... I don't know... venting about used car salesmen. More like a couple of random anecdotes regarding events of this past weekend, both dealing with cars. (Can the end of that sentence be considered a clever pun? Dealing with cars... car dealer... I'll admit it wasn't intentional, but I find it amusing after-the-fact. I consider it a funny on my end. You should too. ... additional side note that I didn't want to do a "parentheses in a parentheses" for so I added a dot dot dot within this set of parentheses despite the fact that it's a relatively separate comment (don't know the technical term for a dot dot dot)... darn, parentheses in parentheses, unavoidable. Anyways, long-winded way of saying additional note, I just spent 15 minutes looking up figures of speech to try and determine if what I said was actually a pun versus a euphemism, hyperbole or whatever else... 15 minutes later and I still don't know what it is. Funny that I spent so long looking up that, to no avail, yet I don't look up the real name of a "dot dot dot", though I could probably find the answer to that in under a minute.) Anyways, returning from ongoing side note land....

So, car anecdote #1: You know that horrible moment when you get out of your car and then think to yourself, uh oh.... what did I just do with my keys? And 9 times out of 10 they're in your purse, where you absent-mindedly placed them several seconds earlier as if on auto-pilot, without realizing you had done it. The remaining one out of every ten times they're on the roof of your car or, god forbid, locked inside. Well, Saturday evening I pulled into my driveway and had this moment of panic mere seconds after getting out of my car. Instinctively, I rummaged through the depths of my purse, even though I knew if my keys were there they would be somewhere right on top. After 21 seconds of rummaging I walked back to my car, where I saw them, taunting me on the passenger seat. Okay... not a problem. I'll get the spare. Go inside my house, go to where we keep all of the spare keys, sift through about 19 different sets, don't find my car key. Where's the spare? Let's call people who may know... 15 minutes later, no one knows. Good... missing a car key. I have a valet key, but that's in the car. Time to call AAA. I've never had to call AAA from the luxury of my own home, as its always been a "call from my cell phone, whilst sitting in my non-functional car and usually freezing or sweating to death" type of situation. Calling from home with no immediate needed usage of the car, a definite bonus. Of course, it was this situation where they showed up in 10 minutes, rather than the usual 50+ minute waiting time. Now, watching the half-hour scene that ensued upon AAA man's arrival was mildly hilarious. Let's call this part of the story "Problem Solving 101, or Unsophisticated Methods of Breaking Into a Car". So, some young guy shows up with a rubber wedge type of device and what looked like one of those orange sticks you use when checking the oil level for your car... except elongated to about eight feet. He shoves the wedge in the upper part of my driver's side door, by the window, and sort of hammers it in a bit, to create a gap between the car and the door. Next step... inserts the orange stick. He fumbles around with it a bit... clearly trying to get it to poke the automatic lock button. I stand there, silently watching. 8 minutes later he asks me if it's a "push lock" or a "pull lock". I reply push, to which he groans and says "that explains it". (Sentence sounds raunchy out of context, first part anyways) Then he realizes it's too dark to see what he's doing so he pulls out his cellphone, which he has to open and close every 10 seconds in order to utilize it as a makeshift source of light. I fully realize that at any point I could have gotten him a flashlight or at least offered to hold his cellphone for him and be the designated opener/closer, but my sitting back and watching was much more enjoyable. He tries pushing rather than pulling the automatic lock for several minutes before switching to work on the manual lock... who knows whether he was trying to push or to pull with that one.

Fastforward another few minutes and he switches to the passenger side door. My immediate thought... does he really think it will be easier on this side versus the symmetric other side he was just trying? I quickly realized that he gave up on pushing/pulling any of the interior locks, be them automatic or manual, and switched instead to trying to hook the keys from my passenger seat onto the orange stick and move them up and out of the tiny space created by the wedge-like apparatus. It's at this moment that I curse the large gaughtiness of my keychain preferences. After several attempts at squeezing the set of keys through the wedged gap he tries to just get them close enough that he can stick his finger in the gap and press the unlock button on the key. This doesn't work either. The keys fall from the orange stick, as if in slow motion. He prods the keys with the stick end, apparently trying to press the unlock button on the keys, but all this does is slide the keys around on the car seat. It seems all hope is lost. He pauses, whether he was contemplating the next move or giving his other hand a rest from opening and closing his phone, who knows. He decides to give "bringing the keys out of the wedge gap" an attempt #2. Unsuccessful. But attempt #9 worked. The keys fit out the gap. Who knows how. I thank him for the amusing show and he's on his way. If you were to ever break into a car, I don't think an 8 foot orange stick would go unnoticed, nor the likely half-hour time block it would take to accomplish your feat of law breaking. Not to mention that how this guy managed to successfully get into my car depended upon the keys being locked inside in a visible and "easily accessible" location in the first place.... if I were you I'd just smash the window and replace it later.

On to car anecdote #2: This story has two parts really. First part... I'm driving home at some crazy late hour of say 3:30 a.m. on Friday night slash Saturday morning. As I pull onto my road I see what seems like 8 kids scatter from the middle of the road and run into a nearby yard. Teenagers on a sleepover, I assume. Slow down and drive by them, continue up the street, eventually pulling into my driveway. I was on my cellphone and didn't want to go inside yet, which would risk waking others up and them overhearing my conversation. So I turned off the car and sat there, still talking. Fastforward maybe 40 seconds and I see someone run up to my drivers side door, from behind the car and then like hit it and run in the other direction. I SCREAMED like I didn't know I was capable of screaming. (I have this odd fear that I will be attacked someday and not be capable of screaming because whenever I've tried to fake a scream a.k.a. scream in a non-frightening situation, it hasn't come out right. Now at least I know I can scream.) My first thought was that it was my brother trying to scare me, then I realized he's not 14 anymore and also, probably not awake. Instantaneously I come to the conclusion that it's those kids I passed by, who wanted to scare me so they must have chased my car up the street... otherwise how would they know it was me and my car, since I turned my car off upon pulling into the driveway? Remember, I'm still on the phone. So I'm explaining what just happened, the cause of my ungodly scream, when what seems like only 10 seconds later the same kid runs up to my driver's side window while another comes up to the passenger side. They yell something to each other ("what is she doing?") and I hear the passenger side door handle click. Sound like a horror movie yet? Thank goodness my car automatically locks so the door didn't open. I pound my window frantically and the kids scream and run away. I'm so shocked by what just happened and that these stupid teenagers actually chased my car up the road just to be jerks that I'm just angry, rather than frightened at this point. I'm expressing this on the phone, as I look around to see where any of these kids are and see absolutely none. While normally I would be paranoid and think they're hiding behind my car or a tree, I had an odd sense of knowing they left. I got out of the car, made sure it was locked and not even running, half-tempting them to come back and dare face me, went in the house, locking the door behind me. I was prepared to call the cops, half-convinced they would come back and hit my bedroom window or something to freak me out even further. And although I probably could have called based on what just happened alone, I thought of it more as a "stupid, annoying teenagers, need to grow up" thing than a threat to my safety. Though I didn't think about what could have happened if the one had gotten my door open.

That was part 1. Part 2 occurred 2 days later. I'm lying in bed, it's the morning and I'm awake but lazy and don't want to get up yet. I hear the phone ring and my brother answer it and hang up a few seconds later. I hear my mom ask who it was and he says "it was a recorded message from the police saying there has been a string of car break-ins and robberies in our neighborhood between the hours of midnight and 7 a.m. over the past few days so be sure to lock our cars and leave nothing valuable in them." I sit up in bed. No wayyyyyy.... I think to myself. Those annoying kids were car thieves... or, more accurately, car item thieves? Obviously I'm making a huge assumption, but it's a natural, albeit proof-lacking, conclusion. I decide to tackle my phone-phobia and call the police, partially to be a good citizen and partially because part of me likes being a tattle-tale when I know it's right. They listen to my story and say they're sending a cop over right away to get a written record of my account. Cop car pulls in the driveway a couple of minutes later. I re-tell the story again. I give the physical description of the one-kid I saw, halfway hoping they brought one of those "draws the criminal's faces based on the description" dudes with them, knowing they probably didn't. I'm asked if I could recognize him in a line-up. (This is fun!) My imagination again goes wild and I picture them having a whole line-up of men having to say "what the f*** is she doing?" one at a time, so I can pick out their voice as well. I'm sure I won't even be called again, but I can have my 2 second "crime witness with-little-risk-to-myself-because-criminal-is-a-kid-and-it's-a-petty-items-in-a-car-theft" fantasy. The cop gives me more detail on the case than I am fairly certain he's supposed to before leaving. Now I have some paranoia that the children's gang will find out I gave them a lead and destroy my car or something. But really I'm just hoping to hear some exaggerated, will never happen, story on the news about a group of underage car bandits who were stopped before causing more havoc to an otherwise quiet neighborhood.

Finally, a comment only (very) mildly related that interestingly enough seems more relevant due to the previous mention of looking up figures of speech... the homonym-like relationship between cars and my last name, Carr. Fairly obvious, I know... that connection in and of itself is not what I wanted to point out here. I feel like everyone at some point growing up thought up funny names... Eileen Dover, Anita Bath, Paige Turner, etc. Well at some point my brother and I realized our grandfather actually has a name like this... his full name is Robert Alan Carr... nothing strange, but you could call him Rob A. Carr, pretty funny. This weekend we joked that my brother should name his first daughter Lisa. Any others you can think of? Okay, so it wasn't related at all other than containing the word car.

2009-08-27T09:56:00.004-04:00

So, another audition story. I've been determined lately to wait around until a non-theatre related blog topic came to mind because I don't want to bore you all with my redundant themeage here. However, this one's too unique to pass up and frankly I want to be able to go back, read this and remember the bizarre experience. So feel free to consider this a self-indulgent blog for my memory's sake and not for any of you. Anyways, it was an audition for A Chorus Line. If I were to get a part it would be my third time doing this musical. One might say I'm addicted to the show. Ironically, I don't love the show itself. But, it has a lot of great parts and is one of very few shows out there where I feel like (in pre-professional theatre land) dance wouldn't hold me back from getting a role. I always knew the music and the general idea of the show but when I first saw it however many, many years back I remember thinking "okay... there are five people in this show I would love to play at some point" (do you know me? can you name them? haha). I consider myself lucky to have been able to play one of them already. This time around I'm hoping for one of three of the remaining four. (One too many numbers in that sentence there.... haha... one too.... one two....) Anyways.

I get there all prepared in my "I'm a dancer but not trying too hard" outfit, my dance bag full of 8 different kinds of dance shoes and my sheet music for a song that's slightly different from the style of the show but shows off both a lighter side as well as the big old belt, i.e. some variety and range all packed into 16 bars. I'm a little nervous, as always, and a bit frazzled because I was 5 minutes late for when the "optional" warm-up was supposed to start. However, nothing had begun yet and everyone was just sitting around so it was all good. My friend Janice was there too so I was very happy to know someone else there. About 8 of us showed up for the warmup. Now, I knew going into this that the choreographer was a ballet guy. Didn't know what to expect or how that whole ballet background thing would go over with this show or the audition. The warmup was a ballet barre. Okay, that's fine. Don't get to do much stretching really, but I can do that before the actual dance audition bit, right? Let me say that the fact that this was called an "optional warmup" was kind of silly. After the ballet barre we went center floor and then did stuff across the floor. Essentially he was assessing our basic skills. Turns. Kicks. Jumps. It was a Dance 101 class, "show me that you have the essentials down". I seriously bet that anyone who wasn't there for this "warmup" was at a huge disadvantage. Especially once we found out what the dance part of the audition would consist of. At the end of the warmup he threw on some salsa music, taught us one little cha-cha type step that we did a couple of times. I figured he was just trying to see if we could move a little more freely, with some personality. Then he tells us we're to do that salsa step and then improv for 16 counts. Fine. I can do that. Throws me off a bit but whatever. Then we're told we can leave and they'll call us in one by one in a bit. Naturally, I go and choreograph my 16 counts of "improv". Well.... I'm called in and the 16 counts goes by and then there's another 16 counts, and another, and some more.... in the end I ended up having to improv for about 3 minutes all while the choreographer shouted things like "show me something!.... and jump!... turn out of it... start from the top!" (the top of improv?). It was insane-o. Considering I haven't had an actual dance class in 2 years and that the basic ballet 101 warmup deal that brought me back to 4th grade nearly killed me, I was dead after 3 minutes. I'm out of practice and out of shape. But I did it and I did it as well as I possibly could, considering it was improv. Today, day after, I have that sore but strong thing going on... it feels good. Anyways, as each person was coming out of this 3 minute improv thing we all started talking, wondering if there would be an actual combination to learn, a legit dance audition if you will. I had a feeling that the improv would be it. I couldn't imagine going through 3 minutes with everyone to then teach and perform a combination as well. My guess was right. The salsa improv was the dance audition. I really think all they could have gathered from that was whether you had rhythm, some level of confidence, some personality, and I suppose some basic technique... assuming with your improv you decided to do some actual dance stuff versus all salsa stylistic things. When I list it out like that it does seem to cover the essentials but I didn't mean it to be a positive statement. haha. I just mean that a huge part of this show is technique and that wasn't necessarily seen unless some auditioner is an excellent improver. As for me, I decided mid move what I would do previously... my body was behind my mind. Wait... reverse that... mind behind the body. As a result I'd be prepping for a jump and deciding on my way up what jump to do and wondering on the way down what I just did. But I feel like I committed to everything, even if my mind was confused. Commitment is essential. On to the singing/acting component...

This part of the audition was a little more standard but very brief and still a little bizarre. The group of 8 of us or however many were all called in at once. We're told we're each going to read from the show and sing. They say "you're all singing from the show right?" to which everyone else responds with an immediate yes except Janice and I who look at each other, look back at them and then say "well, we can!". I guess with this place you're expected to sing from the show and that's pretty much it. Good thing I know the music. As I'm announcing what part I'd like to read for and sing I'm deciding which part I will read for and sing. Though I intended to ask to read for Val, I asked for Kristine at the last second, mainly because I'm nervous and you can be nervous when reading for her but Val has to be beyond confident. And then I sing Val's song. The accompanist played it literally about one-eigthth of its normal speed. No, that's not right. Much slower. It was painfully slow. Painfully. We didn't get a chance to set the tempo beforehand and I hate those auditioners who look at the pianist all panicked and annoyed like trying to get them to speed up. I had a feeling he wasn't going to follow if I sped up anyways... I halfway attempted it during one of the lines that's spoken but then ended up just having to wait for the music to catch up to me. So I sang my 4 bars or so of Dance 10, Looks 3 as a ballad. All's good. That's right, it was about 4 bars. Sure I'm an exaggerator and I'm exaggerating a bit here too but it was really short. And that was the audition. 3 minutes of improv dance, 10 seconds of singing, 8 seconds of dialogue. And from that they pick the line. How? I have no idea. I was going into this thing already with a "we'll see what happens" kind of attitude rather than a "I need to get this or I will cry with disappointment". Partly because 2 of the last 3 shows I did were Chorus Line so it wouldn't KILL me to not do it again so soon, partly because it is a long drive to rehearsals, partly because I'm already in a show right now, partly because I know other shows I could audition for instead if I don't get this and partly because I'm learning more and more to not put all my hopes into auditions because it usually leads to disappointment. Really, at this point I'm just curious... curious how this show will be run, curious how they'll cast it, curious as to what parts they may consider me for even if I'm not offered one (which I'll presumably find out when callbacks are announced). We shall see...

2009-07-24T09:59:00.003-04:00

So I just finished creating an extra long, extra intense, extra detailed, extra insane "Who are you most like from A Chorus Line?" quiz. Yes, to answer your question, I am that cool. My motivation stemmed out of boredom and I knew creating this quiz would be a process that would eat up a lot of empty time, but still be fun for me... for one, I knew I would include all 19 main characters... the line crew plus zach and larry. This meant each question would need 19 possible options. Also, it meant I would need a lot of questions... since there would be so many options it would be easy to select answers that belong to a whole array of characters and therefore get an inconclusive/inaccurate result. It also meant writing up little summary result things for each character ("You are so and so because...") and finding a great picture of each character to go with it... because pictures are fun. So, in summary I wasted a lot of time putting together this ridiculous quiz that probably about 7 people will take.

To me though it was fun... and I'm used to this sort of thing. Well, not writing quizzes. I mean the character analysis junk that goes into it. I know these Chorus Line characters inside and out, but very few people ever think about say, what the character's favorite childhood game would have been (question #9). Well, I'm one of those very few people. All because of one of my first directors, who I did 4 or 5 shows with. It was one of my first musicals, I never really did any acting before, and I had a bit part... a role, but a tiny one without much character development or anything. I was young and had no idea there was any sort of "method" to acting, nevermind multiple methods and I never considered in-depth character analysis. Well, about a week into rehearsals this director gave everyone in the cast, ensemble included, a homework project. We all had to write a detailed analysis of who we were, our character. It could be a list but it had to be as comprehensive as possible. Full name, physical characteristics, personality, family background, interests, favorites (everything... book, movie, food, music group...), least favorites, fears, hopes, what you're ashamed of, what your friends think of you, what your enemies think of you, what you think of you.... you get the idea. If you could think of something else to add, great. In the end it meant each of us had to research the time period so we could give appropriate answers for the character and we had to really give some thought as to who our characters were. It gave everyone a story and our director made sure we knew our story inside and out. I'll never forget one time I walked into a scene and the director stopped me immediately and said "where did you just come from?" then "why are you going here now?" and questioned every response I gave as well. In other words if I said "home" she'd say "where's home? what were you doing there?". It was a mortifying experience for me, someone who doesn't much enjoy answering questions about herself, nevermind "making up" answers on the fly about "someone else"... and feeling interrogated is hard when you're someone who can shut down under verbal pressure. But for that very reason you can be sure I thought of all of these things before ever walking onto a scene again. So, very early on I learned what it meant to really know your character and become that character. It was my first lesson in acting and something I use to this day.

Creating this quiz brought back all of those memories, of the character profiles and such, since that's essentially what I did for these 19 characters. And it made me wonder, if I were to create "a profile" for myself, what would I find? If I had to sum up my life and who I am and then read it over, in its summarized, list-like form what impression would I get of myself and would I like what I see? It would certainly be a lesson in self-discovery. I'm not going to lie, I think I would make one of the world's best character studies. haha. My mother was talking with me at dinner the other night, asking me all sorts of questions about how I think in various situations. At one point I laughed and asked why she was asking me all of this. Her response? "I know you better than 99% of the rest of the people in your life and you're still such a mystery to me. You intrigue me". My response? "So you like psychoanalyzing me?" Her response? "I do". I've always thought of myself as a very self-aware individual with strong perceptions. But I've just recently started learning new things about myself. Things that intrigue even me. Not all of which I'm proud of. Many of them seem to contradict other aspects of who I am, thereby expanding the interest of my imaginary character profile tenfold and then some. I'm not sure yet if these things are just new realizations, but parts of me that have always been there, or if they're new to my life... changes from growing up and coming into my own. Probably a mix of both.

Maybe the next time I'm bored and want to waste a few hours I'll do this suped up character analysis of myself and call it a condensed auto-biography. Part of me is afraid of what I'd see, but part of me knows everyone has strengths and flaws. I'm one of those people who believes that everyone, underneath it all, is good and worthy of respect and love. Everyone does what they think is best... whether it's best for themselves, best for others or a combination of the two... and both things are important, neither is better than the other. I may just be discovering some things about myself, and good or bad, they're making me feel more connected to myself, to others and to the world around me. Which is a good thing. The more I live, observe and experience the more I'm enjoying the learning process of life.

2009-07-08T13:30:00.002-04:00

So, I finally have something blog-worthy. My hilarious injury stories. That's right, I used the words hilarious and injuries in the same sentence. Some of my funniest memories happen to coincide with moments of excruciating pain. And they all have to do with theatre/dance. Let's skip further pre-amble and jump right in...

Story number one goes back a little over a year ago, early January of '08. I'm back at Wheaton for pre-season for dance company... the best slash worst time of the college year (for theatre folk equate it to hell week). Essentially, we're in rehearsal for 8 hours a day, everyday, for about 9 days straight... learning up to 7 new works from the various choreographers that come in and reviewing the old routines from last semester that we probably forgot over Christmas break. You know an injury is coming since I gave the blog topic away in the opening paragraph... you would probably assume it would happen on day 6 or so.... when I'm somewhat into the process and my body is just overworked. Probably would also assume it happened mid extreme dance move. Such was not the case. Try day #1 during warm-ups. We're sitting on the floor, essentially in "indian position", which I know is probably a politically incorrect term, but I don't know what else to call it... criss cross apple sauce? Anyways, we're sitting like that and leaning our bodies forward, over our legs... nothing intense or anything, and I feel an odd sort of pop/pull on the right side of my back. It doesn't hurt, just felt funny. I think to myself, "hmm, that was weird" but kept going through the exercise. I finish the entire floor warmup, still not in any sort of pain. Then I stand up and I can feel it. Nothing too bad, but I knew I had a long week+ of dancing ahead of me so I asked to sit down, maybe stretch it out some more. Well, fast forward about 2 minutes and I'm on the floor, unable to move ANYTHING, and sobbing uncontrollably. Some college health guy comes in to examine me and he can't get me to so much as lift my pinkie without my screaming out in pain (no exaggeration). It's pretty clear, I need to go to the hospital. An ambulance and stretcher come to pick me up. They give me an insane dosage of morphine through the IV at the hospital because I keep saying I don't feel its effect, I'm still in insane pain. The doctor man tells me it's as clear a diagnosis as possible, I merely threw out my back. I think he HAS to be wrong... there's no way that's all this is. I couldn't even move my pinkie without a shooting pain stemming from my back. He insists that's all it is. I still think he is wrong, but I don't argue. Only thing to do, he says, is get enough morphine in me so that I'm able to get out to a car and get home... he'll write me a prescription for Percocet or something and some anti-inflammatory jazz that I'm allowed to take up to 4 times a day and I'll have to be on complete bed-rest for at least 2 weeks. I'm complaining because I'm not feeling the morphine and I'm convinced there's no way I will ever be able to get to a car unless they completely sedate me and do it themselves. Eventually they tell me if they give me any more morphine it would be too dangerous (after commenting on my unnaturally high level of tolerance for it and utter shock that they weren't even noticing it having any sort of effect on me) and that I should try getting out to the car. Well, the minute I stand up boy do I FEEL THE MORPHINE. I got super super dizzy but was able to slowly wabble out to the car, relying heavily on my friend Laura, who went with me in the ambulance, and the dance company director, who showed up later at the hospital and would be driving us both back to campus. Now, on the car ride home Cheryl (dance director) says I have to get some food in my system (this whole process took most of the day, god knows how many hours, and I hadn't eaten anything) and she insisted on going to the pharmacy at that moment to get the prescriptions as well as pick up one of those moist heating pads, which the hospital man recommended. She takes us through the McDonalds drivethrew, which in and of itself, if you know Cheryl, is hilarious. She eats nothing and has been known to make weight comments about dancers (oblivious to how they are received, not out of meanness. She's a little clueless... understatement), so the fact that she insisted Laura and I get something "of substance" from McDonalds cracked us up. But then she goes through the CVS pharmacy drivethrew, all the while commenting on how miraculous it was that there were drivethrews for such things now and asking if we were sure she could turn in the prescription there. We get up to the window and she gives them the prescriptions. They ask when we'll be back to get them. She says we'll wait.... at the drivethrew window.... not caring that it would take at least 10 minutes and there may be cars behind us. But the pharmacy man doesn't tell her that she can't. Just gives a funny look for half a second before remembering to be professional. Then, she decides to ask to the pharmacy man if he can run into the main part of CVS and also pick us up a moist heating pad, giving specific instructions on which type of heating pad would be needed so be sure to find the right one. I'm fairly certain this is not in their job description, to go shopping around CVS for random items for pharmacy drivethrew pick-up customers. Cheryl asks us if we need anything else, so she can ask him to get that too. Well at this point Laura's in the back seat trying not to laugh and I'm cracking up on the inside and drugged out of my mind, which is making the entire experience that much more hilarious. I'm realizing now that this is one of those stories that may not be funny in the re-telling, but if you were there and heard her ask the pharmacist to pick up the random store items for us as well, you would have found it funny.

The next two stories are much more recent and much funnier in the retelling. So, first one involves another (though MUCH less severe) back injury. I'm doing a couple of musicals this summer with a group up in Danbury (about an hour from where I live). These past few weekends I've had rehearsal for one show in the morning/early afternoon and then a performance of the other show in the evening... with about a 4 or 5 hr break inbetween. Since I live far away I just stay up there during the break, along with another few people who are in both shows and don't leave either. It is designated nap time. I pull up a lounge chair bench prop piece thing and fall asleep. Wake up, feel okay. Hour or so later back hurts. Another hour or so later and I can't get out of my car, finally realizing it's actually a pretty bad injury that won't just go away. I go to the doctor the next day... spasm and torn muscle. Nothing too severe, can still be in the shows (though advised to "be willing" to skip the first one or two, "if necessary"... which obviously to me means, go for it), just have to be careful and rest inbetween. Lots of ice, anti-inflammatories and Valium. I make it through a performance or two with little problem. Then, one performance night, mid tap trenches, I feel it... bad. I get offstage and about 10 seconds later someone else realizes something is wrong. Suddenly there are about 6 people there to help me. Someone is pulling me out a chair, I have about 3 people changing my shoes, another one holding a flashlight so they can see what they're doing, 1 trying to make me laugh to lighten the mood (and laughing made it hurt more so I was trying not to laugh but also nervously laughing at the situation of everyone catering to me and being so helpful. And of course, telling people to not make you laugh because it hurts makes everyone laugh more). And I'm sitting there trying to avoid crying, to no avail. I'm told not to go back onstage and to wait until they can get people to help me back into the house. I'm asked if I can walk (assisted) or if they will need to carry me in on the chair. I can walk. I get inside and everyone's asking how I am, they're all being super nice. Super stage manager Janice goes out to find my family, with my helpful assistance of telling her what they look like.... "there's my mom and about... well, some other adults... and 2 younger people... my brother looks like me"... that was the extent of my family's physical description, aka I gave her an impossible task of finding them, though she assured me she would, and she somehow did. Someone asks if I have any of my medicine with me. I take a Valium. Music director then tells me red wine relaxes the muscles. Well wouldn't you know it, I just happened to have a bottle in my bag. When I say this the reaction is hilarious. I do not normally have bottles of wine in my purse. I am not an alcoholic. The fact that I happened to have a bottle of red wine was a hilarious coincidence because I had picked some up for the night before, had most of it still left and had forgotten to take it out of my bag before coming to the show. I tell her that I just took a Valium. She tells me it's okay, have some wine anyways. I'm in pain so it's good advice in my mind. So here I am, sitting in a chair, having just taken a Valium and now sipping red wine from a 1.5 Liter bottle while crying and laughing as others go by at the absurdity of it all and knowing how ridiculous I must look. That's funny part number one... happening to have the red wine and then sipping it from the bottle after taking a Valium. On to funny part number two... the method of getting me in a car to get home. My brother pulls his truck up to the house and I'm assisted outside. After joking that they should just put me in the pick-up part of the truck we try to actually get me in the back seat. It is somewhat high up... I will not be able to just "climb in". Amazing Janice decides to act as my stepstool to get me into the back seat. But getting on all fours leaves her too high up, so she gets in plank position, nearly lying on the ground, held up by her forearms, while I step on her back to get in... next I'm kind of pushed into a lying position across the back seat. Then there's the whole ordeal of do I want my hair taken out? shoes off? feet hanging out the window so I fit better? something to prop under my knees? a pillow of sorts for my head? I have Janice on one end, taking out my hair, Ron on the other, adjusting my feet, and Anna and who knows who else outside the car, laughing with the rest of us at the hilarity of the situation. Then there's the rolling factor. Unless my brother drives 15 miles per hour the entire ride home I will probably roll around, quite potentially right off the seat. So they push the front seats back as far as possible to "tuck me in" and secure my position. The whole ordeal was my best worst memory to date. Yes it was painful, but it was also highly amusing.

Fast-forward another week or so and I'm in the foyer of the rehearsal space (henceforth referred to as Richter), with a few castmates, during another break between rehearsal and a performance. (No longer will I take naps there). Anyways, all of a sudden I get a HORRENDOUS charley horse. I'm talking worst one of my life. It was in BOTH my shin and my calf and there was no relief to be found. My foot was stuck at a ridiculous angle and I could not, for the life of me, get it to move to stretch it out. I was literally grabbing my foot with both hands and pulling at it, and yet it would not budge from its bizarre position. (You know how when you get a cramp your toes or whatever will get stuck in a funny way and the only way to get relief from the pain is to manually move your toes to a normal position to stretch out the muscles? Well, it was that, but my entire foot. And it would NOT move). So we're all laughing because my foot looks ridiculous but I'm nearly in tears also because of the pain. Janice says I should stand up on a cold floor, and we all know the only way it will go away is if I can manage to stretch it out, which probably involves standing. So three people help me up. I'm a little more than half-way up when I realize there is no way I will be able to stand. So someone goes and grabs a chair to slide behind slash under me that I can just collapse on. And I'm in so much pain, all I want to do is crash to the floor and helplessly grab my awkwardly bent foot. The second the chair is behind me I start to go down, with Janice in front of me, essentially completely supporting me. I turn into her arm on my way down and out of sheer pain I open my mouth to let out a cry and it slowly closes.... on her arm. By now I'm in the chair. A few seconds of silence.... assessing the situation (Is Trisha okay now? It's all quiet and calm). "Owww! I think I bit you." Laughter ensues. I most definitely bit Janice's arm on my way down to the chair, and she never said a word about it until my "ow, I bit you comment". Now we're all cracking up, not only because I bit her but because I said "oww" first before saying "I bit you", as if it hurt ME to bite HER. I proceeded to apologize 817 times for biting her while trying to alleviate my charley horse pain, which did eventually go away, but left my leg muscles sore slash weak for the entire rest of the night and into the next day. It was like the spasm was a workout my legs had never seen the likes of before. I decided bananas and water were my only hope in preventing it from coming back.... wanted to get a bunch of bananas but the store was closed because it was July 4th so I got a smoothie at Starbucks instead that had a banana in it. Came very close to eating the single banana that was in the kitchen at Richter, before realizing it was a prop that the lead character would eat on stage later that night in the show. Imagine if I ate her prop? Especially on a day all the stores were closed. Janice probably would have bitten me.

So now we laugh that a lot of the funniest moments at Richter seem to occur when I am in pain, and that Janice is always somehow on the receiving end of it as well. Oh, and not really related, but I'm going to attempt to make a mild connection between the two because I want to mention it here, is a dream that I had. The mild connection of which I speak is that it involves potential pain and Janice. In my dream I'm at Desert Moon (essentially a step between taco bell and a sit-down, full scale Mexican restaurant... there's one near Richter we visit often). And someone walks in, pulls out a gun and says "Everyone, on the floor!". Not two seconds after I get down to the floor do I feel something pressing against my back. I'm sure it's the gun and that I'm going to be shot as an example to the rest of the people that this guy means business. (Didn't find it amusing during the dream that this was occurring in Desert Moon of all places). Then I hear the voice of the "gunman" and it was Janice. She yelled "Give me your Harry Potter or else I'm going to jack hammer your spine!". It suddenly occurred to me that the thing pressing against my back was a jack hammer and not a gun. And in my dream state I remembered that Janice had seen me reading Harry Potter at Richter at one point (even though in real life I never have) and she must have really wanted the book.... badly enough to jack hammer my spine, if need be, to get it.

So there are my funny injury stories. A drivethrew CVS moment, some Valium and wine, being manhandled into a truck, accidentally biting a friend, and getting a jack hammer to the spine at a Mexican cafe.

2009-06-17T16:29:00.002-04:00

shameless plug... i hear this helps your site be visible in google and yahoo searches.

http://www.trishacarr.webs.com

http://www.freewebs.com/trishacarr

http://trishacarr.webs.com/resume.htm
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/photos/
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/photos/album?albumid=5215024
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/photos/album?albumid=5215098
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/photos/album?albumid=5223538
http://trishacarr.webs.com/reels.htm
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/videos/videos
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/videos/channels/show/621099-acting
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/videos/channels/show/621100-dance
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/videos/channels/show/621103-vocal
http://trishacarr.webs.com/apps/videos/channels/show/621110-choreography
http://trishacarr.webs.com/reviews.htm
http://trishacarr.webs.com/bio.htm
http://trishacarr.webs.com/currentnews.htm
http://trishacarr.webs.com/contact.htm

2009-06-02T16:10:00.002-04:00

So here it is... in ranked order, my list of what makes being in a show enjoyable. Because I'm sure you're all dying to know my thoughts on the matter. My order for this here list has changed considerably from what it was, based on the two shows I'm currently in. If you're like me and you read into things (or I've been telling you stories about rehearsals) I'm sure you will be able to figure out what aspects of my current show experiences are beyond amazing, or on the other side, horrendous based on how these here ranks have changed. (That is, if the topic hasn't bored you enough that you already stopped reading...) In some cases I'll just say how these shows affected my opinion flat out. Eliminate the speculation. Speculation leads to misconception which leads to rumors... because I'm sure everyone will be gossiping about this stimulating blog of mine. I am, however, brutally frank. Just getting that out there. Warning.

I'll start with #1 in importance (previously #4) if only because I hate the suspense associated with "countdowns"... start with the good stuff- it eliminates reading in reverse. So, numero uno in determining how happy I am doing a particular show is the director. If you have an awesome director things run smoothly, and you are inspired slash in awe of their creativity, perception, visions etc. Their energy and personality sets the tone for rehearsals. I've always thought this. I've had a couple of great directors and I tend to follow them around, show-to-show, like a groupie. On the other hand, an awful director can destroy a wonderfully written show with a super talented cast. Worse than that, at least from a performer's perspective, they can completely ruin the overall mood of the cast and enjoyability of rehearsals... causing a rise of frustration that eventually leads to anger/disappointment outside of rehearsal. Just as I've had some brilliant directors I've had some horrendous ones, and they can completely ruin the experience. Whenever I have an awful director my first reaction is usually "I want to quit" and my later reaction "I want to take over". But I've never quit and I've never taken over, so no worries there. There's my praising and venting.

#2 (previously #3) = Cast. Though this may seem straight-forward, "The Cast", in its high ranking number 2 spot, encompasses a lot of things. First off, they have to be talented, because if they're not you will feel embarassed to be on stage with them. Let's be real, we all think it. If you have an untalented set of people, forget it... you ultimately want every show you're in to be the best it can be and it's AWESOME to work with a cast full of talent. But then there's also part of you that doesn't want them to be too talented. If there's too much talent you are overshadowed. And if there's a severe excess of talent you can be intimidated (I have to sing and dance in front of them?!?!? What will they think of me?). So there has to be that balance between "how could they not currently be starring in their 32nd Broadway show?" and "never open your mouth or attempt to dance again, even in the privacy of your own home because then your own pets may disown you". A great or awful cast, talent-wise, can certainly affect your level of rehearsal and performance satisfaction. What I'm primarily referring to here though doesn't really depend on talent. It's more basic: are they good people to be around? A nice cast, with energy, some humor, and good work-ethic can make the experience 817 times more enjoyable. And of course the reverse holds too... if it's cliquey and full of complainers you end up begging for the show to start so you can skip right to the performance aspect and avoid the rehearsals.

#3 (previously #1) is your part in the show. Not necessarily whether you're the lead or not, but how featured you are in whatever you are doing. Let's face it, everyone wants the best parts. And about 98% of actors think they deserve the best parts. I buy right into the stereotypes. You end up counting your lines, determining who is downstage center the most in the group numbers, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of size of the role, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of talent, decide upon your "rank" in the show in terms of audience likeability, and the list goes on. You can't help but feel a bit of pride when you realize your part is better than so-and-so's. And you probably won't be too happy if you get zero-stage time. The old saying "no part is a small part" or whatever it is... it's a lie to 95% of the performing community. It's an aspect of being a performer. We all want to be featured and we all get upset when we're not featured to the level "we deserve". It's a narcissism thing. I'm not ashamed to admit it. And I know you're nodding to yourself in acknowledgement.

#4 (previously #5... aka didn't change much) is the choreographer. Now this isn't just because I'm a dance person. I feel like the choreographer has a HUGE role in the level of satisfaction you have doing a show. First off, it's usually a majority of the cast who considers dancing their weakest point... the choreographer has to be encouraging, helpful, and make the steps at an appropriate level yet exciting for the audience to see without "dumbing-them-down". They also have to work with a wide variety of levels. I feel like the dance aspect of the show is where the cast is most likely to get frustrated. The choreographer is the primary person who sets the mood at these rehearsals. There's a way to make it fun and enjoyable. I've seen a bunch of choreographers get frustrated with the cast for "not getting it" and just as many make the steps easier as they decide it's "too complicated". Only the best are able to inspire the cast to work at it while convincing them that they will get it. A choreographer who isn't just good at making up the steps, but who can also lead the dance rehearsals and gain the like and respect of the cast makes a world of difference.

#5 (previously #6) is the costumes/makeup. This one is simple. Who doesn't love getting dressed up? Who doesn't love finally "looking the part" once the performance time hits? Great costumes and makeup can make the show so much more exciting to the performer in the great costumes and makeup and really boost confidence as well.

#6 (previously #2... can we say giant leap?) is how much you like the actual show you are performing in. I used to think this was key. Be in a show you love. If you connect to the story and the music you will enjoy the experience that much more. While I do think it can help, the satisfaction from rehearsals and the overall experience do not rely on this at all. I've been in shows where I've HATED the plot, songs, characters, dialogue... the whole bit, and yet I've LOVED the experience. Same goes in the reverse. I've been super excited to do certain shows I essentially had memorized before joining a cast, including knowing bizarre random facts about, oh I don't know, how the original assistant lighting designer came to be part of the show, and yet I've really not enjoyed the rehearsal experience at all. Surprisingly, how much you like the show itself makes little to no difference in satisfaction with the experience.

#7 (has always been #7) is the musical director. I get their importance and all and yes, it would be lame to have one who was really mean or did absolutely nothing, but I've never done a show where they've had a profound meaning or purpose to me personally. I take the score home, plunk out the alto notes, learn them, go into rehearsal and sing them. Simple as that. Musical directors make a huge difference in terms of the vocal performance level of shows, don't get me wrong. They just don't really effect how much I enjoy a show or not.

So that's my list. I should probably mention that the crew also falls into the cast bit in #2... both in the talent aspect and the likeability aspect... though I feel no competiton from them, they should know what they're doing. And with that, I'm off to rehearsal.

2009-05-07T11:53:00.002-04:00

So this blog is really just a small look into the mind of Trisha... how neurotic I am and how my thought processes generally go. I've mentioned it before, but in case you're new, I take the train to work. Previously I've gotten monthly passes, mainly for convenience, considering I just figured out they actually only save about $2.20 a month. But anyways, since I started my two shows I've had to take my car into work quite a bit in order to get to rehearsals afterward. Henceforth and forthwith (totally don't know what that actually means, but I wanted to say it), I ceased the use of the monthly pass and decided to buy 10 trip passes and use those whenever I do take the train.

Well, today was a train day. I haven't taken the train to work since last week and this weekend I switched some stuff from my main purse to a different one. During the drive to the train station this morning I thought to myself "you should probably check and make sure you have your ten-trip pass thing in this purse Trisha". But then I decided I was being paranoid... there's no reason that I would have taken it out because I didn't need it in my "weekend purse". So I didn't check. Sit down on the train, pull out my book and go to grab my pass for when the conductor comes by. If it wasn't already blatantly obvious, the pass wasn't there. Now, if we know me at all we also know I don't carry around cash. Reason number one, credit cards are easier to use, harder to lose. Reason number two, I can get away with saying "sorry I don't have any cash" in various situations, which always leads to spending and lending less money. So I'm on the train, ticketless and cashless. What do I do? Well about 187 scenarios run through my mind. Really about 3, but I exaggerate. Let's discuss what went through my mind...

Option 1: Fake sleep. Pray they don't try to wake me up. If they do, fake deep sleep. Pray they won't want to make a scene by shouting at the sleeping girl. If they do, fake death. If pulse is checked, fake coma. But then how do I stop faking in order to get off at Stamford for work?

Option 2: Get up and just walk around the train for the entire 40 minute ride, never stopping long enough for a conductor to find me. If spotted and looked at in a questioning manner ask which car has the closest bathroom. Pray I'm not standing in front of one as I ask it. If I am, play stupid, clueless girl who gets really embarrassed when she is told she's standing right in front of it. Or, only if verbally questioned, say I was headed back to my seat in the other car, and just came from the bathroom.

Option 3: Spin-off from the bathroom idea... wait until the conductor is a few rows away collecting tickets and then get up and ask him where the closest car is with a bathroom. Make my way in that direction, by the time I'm back he's gone through my car and collected all tickets. Maybe to be safe instead of returning to my original car I will instead sit down in the car he came from previously, where tickets were already collected and where he wouldn't be looking for "that girl who went to the bathroom while I was collecting tickets".

Option 4: Pretend I don't know I don't have my ticket. When conductor comes by rummage through my bag. Keep rummaging. Hope he's tired of your rummaging and "comes back" to you, but never does. Only if needed say "I can't seem to find it".

Option 4a: Play the pity card. When told I can't find it, conductor will say I can pay with cash. Open my wallet, show him it's empty. Offer him the ticket I happen to have in my wallet (from over a year ago, never used) from Stamford to Rye, NY as alternative payment... even though it's expired and about $5 less than a ticket for the trip I was taking. If needed, get teary eyed.
Option 4b: Flirt my way out. "Are you reaaaaally going to kick me off? How about you let this slide and I'll.... (smile coyly, pause for effect)..... let it be our little secret"

Option 5: Play it cool. Super slick. Hope the conductor recognizes my face as one of the people who always has a monthly pass (because up until May I always had), tell him I left my pass at home by mistake, but say "you've seen me before, I always have the monthly pass" and hope I'm in a relaxed enough manner that it will just slide. If it doesn't, pull a complete reversal and give him attitude about how I refuse to pay for another ticket when he knows as well as I do that I have a monthly pass, already paid for, sitting at home. Refuse to pay, knowing the next stop is Stamford so if he kicks me off, I'm where I need to be anyway.

Basically the only guaranteed option is 4b, because men are men. Especially men in their 40s who are being flirted with by a girl in her 20s. But alas, it's also the last one I would actually do. I'll play dead, walk unnecessarily essentially playing grown-up hide and seek for 40 minutes, be completely conniving, cry, or throw a tantrum... but probably not flirt. Notice tell the truth and just be upfront about the whole thing is never an option that crosses my mind. I decide to fake sleep while all of this is running through my head, in case that's the option I go with... I want the people sitting near me to believe I'm actually asleep by the time the dude comes around. Finally I start hearing "tickets please" and the sound of the conductor's hole punch. The pressure's on and I can't decide whether to go with option 3 or an option 1, 4a hybrid (fake sleep as long as possible... when it comes to the fake death step switch instead to option 4a). My heart is racing, I'm sweating. Really, this isn't a huge deal, but I get worked up over minimal things. His voice sounds closer. I decide it's too late to go with option 3 and still be convincing that I'm not just trying to get out of paying for my ride so I go with the hybrid and do my best deep sleep impersonation. Time is going so slowly. I'm sure that any second my neighbor will tap me on the shoulder to give the man my ticket. But wait... can it be.... it sounds like his voice is now a row or two ahead of me.... dare I peek? No, too soon. Too risky. Could be my ears being hopeful. Heart rate is fastest at this point. Then I hear the train car door open and close. Could he have collected all other tickets and just went along to the next car? Dare I peek NOW? No, still too soon. I end up waiting a good 2 minutes of silence before daring to open my eyes. Even then, part of me was sure he'd be standing there, glaring at me... suspecting me as a fraud all along. But alas, he was not. The sleep trick worked. Brilliant. Now for my ride home this afternoon....

2009-04-23T10:38:00.003-04:00

Teenage years. You hear the good and the bad associations all the time... "it's the best time of your life.... 30 years from now you'll look back and think about how great things were in high school... cherish it now while you're young" as well as "prime suffering years... I know it's hard, it gets better as you get older.... identity crisis, you don't know who you are yet" and etc. and etc. I can only understand the negative side of it really. Jr. high and high school years are the worst. For several reasons. Even just looking back now makes me want to get in a ball and cry. Okay, I'm being dramatic.

First of all, there's this extreme desire to simultaneously want to fit in and to stand out. And you think the only way you will be accepted is if you act a certain way, even if it's entirely not you. I distinctly remember in junior high thinking I would definitely be one of the cool kids if only I swore. I mean, that's a ridiculous thought. (You can tell this was the younger years of junior high because it's swearing versus the whole drinking, partying, sex thing). Yet, I was so sure of it. In my mind it was the only thing holding me back. Maybe I chose to think this to justify to myself why I wasn't one of the popular kids... I could say to myself "self, if you woke up one day and started swearing you would be a cool person" and I'd never have to worry about what if that wasn't the case because I knew swearing is something I wouldn't do. Another silly anecdote here... there was a time in like 1995 when they were going to add an M&M color to the standard mix and you could call in and vote on which you wanted. The "cool girls", who I was on a casual talking basis with, but never included in the elite club, told me to vote repeatedly for blue. I'm talking they would all call each other at night to say how many times they were able to get in blue votes. And when I was asked I sure wasn't going to give a disappointing number. The kind of sad thing is that I really wanted pink. I still remember feeling incredibly guilty because I threw in one solitary vote for pink. When blue won they felt accomplished. I was a secondary accomplice. Perhaps an accomplished feeling accomplice... until I realized that I was secretly hoping pink would win to spite them all.

So those swearing and M&M stories were like the pre-teen and early teen years. Junior high stuff. By high school you're somewhat more comfortable with yourself and have some sense of pride. You may still want to hang with the popular crew but you wouldn't do anything they say just as an attempt to please (like vote for the color M&M THEY decide is best even though you think otherwise.... you might say you did it, but actually doing it? No). By high school I realized that believe it or not, even if I swore I wouldn't fit in with them. But I also started to realize maybe I didn't want to. Sure, on an ego level I would have loved it but it's also fun to join the "cliques are stupid" clique. Whereas early teen years you want nothing more than to fit in and be exactly like everyone else, late teen years the last thing you want is to be cookie-cutter. You want to be known. We're all individuals, but what makes you unique? The torture of high school is finding that out and becoming comfortable with what you find. Plus, I don't know if what I went through in high school was so much worse than the type of things I go through now or if it just felt that way because it's the first time you have to learn to cope with difficult things. (Because let's face it, other than hating the fact that your gym class just switched from scooters to football, you didn't have that many concerns when you were little).

Maybe I'm generalizing... I'm sure plenty of people had horrible child childhoods and loved teenage childhoods. Or both were okay, great, or lousy. But I really think those jr. high/high school years are the worst. At least by college you're pretty settled into yourself and stop caring what other people think so much. All I'm saying is that I highly doubt I will ever wish I could go back to my teenage years... maybe in the sense that I'd like to go back and give it a do-over, knowing what I do now, but even that's unlikely. No thanks, let's just erase age 12-17 all together. Take that back, let's remember it so that we can look back and think "I'm so glad that's over". Never again will I vote blue if I want pink. (Or keep quiet about my love for Megan Corkery on American Idol, now gone for weeks, despite her odd love of acting like a bird and general hatred by 99% of viewers) And to this day, even though I'm plenty old enough to not worry about being yelled at by a parent for swearing, I don't care what people think when they find out I still don't swear. I'm who I am and I'm realizing this has kind of turned into a "be proud of who you are, accept your differences" after-school-special. Ughh

2009-04-01T14:12:00.011-04:00

So I hesitated before deciding to share my audition story, mainly because if I get the show and become friends with any other cast people on facebook they could quite easily find this here blog, read, chuckle through the first half, and decide to hate me by the second half. But I decided to share and just avoid making friends. It's more my style. (By the way, if you ARE from one of the shows and just read that, it was sarcastic. I'm a sarcastic person. Now that that's clear...)

So, on Saturday I went to go audition for the 3 shows which make up the summer season at an outdoor theatre group in Danbury. Three shows in this case are defined as Funny Girl, A Chorus Line, and Children of Eden. In researching this theatre it seemed somewhat more legit than your average community theatre. For starters, I found out about the auditions on playbill.com, a fairly legit site. There were also 4 days of auditions, spanning over 21 hours, rather than the usual 1 day, 3 or 4 hours. They requested that you bring a headshot and resume. The director/choreographer of A Chorus Line has done choreography on Broadway (including the well known "Telephone Hour" from Bye Bye Birdie). But it's non-profit and there's no pay. So I couldn't decide in my mind if it was just a kind of suped-up community theatre trying to appear as more than it is, or a pre-professional, step below the big-time, type of place. I arrived at the audition still unsure.

So I get to the audition site which is one of those K-12 private schools, and it looked like a barn. I walk into the barn, grab a sign-in sheet and sit down to fill it out. The usual questions... age, height/weight, voice type, songs prepared for the audition, rehearsal conflicts, sign your life away saying you will not demand pay, desired roles, favorite nursery rhyme... the norm. I decide to say "yes" to auditioning for all 3 shows rather than the 2, 1 or ever-confusing none option. I decide to say "yes" to accepting ensemble for one show and "no" to the other two. (When I told this to someone on Monday she appeared SHOCKED... "but, don't you think you need to work your way up Trisha?".... in my head I replied "I worked my way up. Just not with this group" (I decided upon seeing the barn it was probably more community theatre-esque. If more professional-ish, I could agree with her) and my mind followed it with a "don't judge me as an overly-confident-in-their-own-talent snob". Out loud I made up something more polite about how rehearsals were an hour from work and an hour from home and I knew it would be taxing so I'd rather only make the commitment if I have a role... which I suppose can still sound theatre snobby, but...) Anyways, the fact that I was auditioning for Funny Girl and said no to ensemble was almost a joke. To be quite honest I DETEST the show, found Barbara Streisand ridiculously annoying in the movie, and would not want to suffer through being in the ensemble. (Add in, month later... I'm in the ensemble and actually quite enjoying it. haha. I apologize for the severity of my pre-conceived notions). But I knew that although I would never be able to pull off the comedic characterizations, or the powerful 18 solo songs, or convince the audience I am Jewish, I might as well put down that I'm auditioning for the lead of Fanny Brice. In the 1 in 10,000 chance I actually got it, it would be a great resume role. A Chorus Line I instantly checked "no" to ensemble, because I did not just want to be in the opening number after already doing the show before. No thanks. For desired parts I wrote Val, Kristine and Judy... three of only four I can realistically play. (Here's the breakdown even though I'm sure none of you care all that much. Cassie and Sheila I'm too young to play. Two out of nine parts out. Connie I'm too tall to play unless they can somehow shrink me 10 inches or so. Three out of nine out. I know there are better singers out there to be Diana and Maggie (plus, no matter what you do to me I can not come close to looking Puerto Rican, and no matter how much you train me I can not force myself to be a first soprano with belt). Five out of nine out. Leaves 4: Val, Kristine, Judy and Bebe.... my realistic options) Then for Children of Eden I put down my desired role of Yonah, knowing I had a super small chance of getting that too, but then responded in the affirmative for ensemble... their ensemble is in like 16 numbers, and I love the music, so I would very much so love to do anything in this show.

After looking over my sheet, chuckling again to myself that I put down Fanny Brice, I go to turn it in. Immediately after sitting down again, an older man comes up to me and introduces himself. I immediately recognize the name as the man who will be directing A Chorus Line, who did the broadway choreography and such, but (perhaps stupidly) do not make it known that I know who he is. I smile and say my name. He asks if I will be singing or dancing today. I reply "both". He smiles, says "good" and leaves me be.

First reaction.... Well this is good. The director of A Chorus Line sought me out in a room full of auditioners (auditionees?) to make sure I was auditioning for his show. Definite good start.....

Second reaction.... Singing or dancing? Singing OR dancing? You're never given a choice! You have to do both! Does this mean if you choose to dance at the audition you have to have something prepared? Think back to what it said on playbill.... "Prepare an uptempo and a ballad, be ready to sing just best 16 bars if necessary. If asked, be prepared to dance or read from the script"..... be prepared to dance.... that doesn't say have a dance prepared.... but it also doesn't say be prepared to learn a dance combination..... If you can't tell, I'm getting paranoid. Of course, it never occurs to me to just ask someone what the audition process was. Instead I start running through all of the dances I've done in the past 2 years (that are still somewhat committed to memory), trying to decide what I can do for them... with no music... and without running it beforehand besides envisioning it in my head. All of my choreography, which is freshest in my mind, is too bizarre and doesn't show off anything, and anything older I forgot. I don't really come to a firm decision on what to do when I am called into the audition room. As I'm walking down the hallway to the audition room I decide if it comes down to them just saying "ok, now dance" I will visibly panic, do a double turn, kick once, say I have a flexible back and cringe as they stare at me, expecting more.

So I walk into this tiny tiny room with about 8 people sitting there for casting, and the pianist crammed in the corner. As I walk in some lady gives them my info sheet, resume and "headshot" (prop from A Chorus Line at Wheaton... comes in very useful) and introduces me as "Trisha Carr, who is auditioning for all three shows". The "all three shows" bit causes a kind of gasp on their end. I wouldn't think it that unusual, but apparently it is. Since the lady already introduced me my normal opening audition line is all thrown off and I don't know what to say, especially because they were shuffling through papers, muttering, and not paying the slightest bit of attention to me. So I decide to just make a bad first impression and walk straight over to the pianist to hand over my music. Not knowing if I should do the ballad first or the uptempo, 16 bars or the whole thing, I start to just pull all of the sheet music out as one of the casting people says (reading off my info sheet) "Oh! You've Got Possibilites (song name, not remark about my potential)... good choice". So I guess that means I'm starting with You've Got Possibilities. The one I know I can belt my life away to in real life but have never attempted at an audition because I know my voice always fails me when it comes to power and auditions. I set aside the safe ballad I know I can do well, and go with the risk, all because casting lady says "good choice". Well, I say bad choice. Because after the first note I sang I realized that the nerves were taking over again. I hate it. I don't get nervous for performances... people are there to enjoy. But at auditions their sole purpose is to judge you and critique, and that always gets the better of me. I sound like 2 completely different people at auditions and not. So I struggle. That much is clear. Some notes are okay, but whole picture is NOT. So I end feeling kind of miserable, knowing I've screwed myself over in terms of hoping to get a part in any of the shows, but I don't let it show that I feel this way. I feel more miserable when it is made apparent I will not be singing the other song. Then, Children of Eden man says "will you read me these lines for Yonah?"

First thought: What? He's asking me to read for the part I wanted after I sang like that? He's nuts! Or has pity for me....

Second thought: I don't care, I get to read!

Third thought (upon looking at the script): Panic. First line: "Japeth?". Second line: "No Japeth, it's not right." Do I know how to pronounce Japeth? Just because I've seen the show, I'm Catholic and supposedly "know the Bible" and it's the husband of the character I said I wanted, I'm expected to know how to pronounce it? Well, I can't ASK how to pronounce it! I should know, given it's the part I said I wanted. To not know says I don't care enough to know, I'm unprepared, I'm un-Bibley cultured, I can't read.

Luckily, mid third thought I hear Children of Eden man say to another "Yah-pah-teth" in a funny tone and then chuckle. To me, it's clearly him saying Japeth, and it's just as clearly him mispronouncing it. So I take advantage of the moment and say (in a totally "non-Trisha" way... it was giddy and confident but nervous-- not an oxymoron, think an outspoken, outgoing person asking a question, with no fear of looking stupid, but knowing it's a ridiculous question to ask and they will probably be laughed at).... now I lost track of my original sentence. Right, so I take advantage of the moment and say "Waiiiit, how DO you pronounce it???". Well they loved that. Laughter ensued as they tried to calm the nervous girl by saying "don't listen to him, he's kidding around, the way you know it is right, (for a minute I feared they would stop right there, but they continued...) It's Jay-pith". So I felt better after they thought my question was amusing and I knew how to pronounce it. Worries came up again mid read-through when I realized I could totally be straying from the scene's intentions. It was one of those scenes that could be performed a bunch of different ways.... I went the quiet emotional, contemplative route but halfway through realized it could totally be an angry emotional, stubborn type moment. I hate finding out mid-scene that it can be interpreted differently. And because I only saw the show once I don't remember how it's usually done and there weren't any comments in the script to help me out. So rather than completely change tone mid-scene I kept going with the quiet emotional thing, wishing I had the chance to read it before then and decide if it was the best choice. I always tend to see scenes as quiet emotional first go around.... like that scene from Chorus Line at Wheaton... I was so confused why the director wanted me yelling, because I read it completely differently... then once I did it, I could see it that way too. Anyways... I still don't know if this Children of Eden scene should have been angry.... seeing as I was reading as a female character from the Bible I think probably not, but who knows.

After I do the read through the Chorus Line guy says to me "and you said you would be dancing for us?". Here it is again, panic. Do they expect me to break out in a dance right now? If I say "yes" will they be silent and wait for me to start? So I say (in that same, not me, confident scatterbrained way) "I was under the impression we'd be learning something?" Well, that made off better than the pronounciation comment. They found it downright hilarious. Comments like "That's the best thing I've heard EVER during an audition! Hilarious! This girl's adorable!" came from the 8 with all the power while the pianist played a little jingle as if for me to dance to. They told me yes I'd be learning a combination and continued laughing (with me? at me? at me in a not so bad way?). I said something stupid like "just making sure!" along with an exaggerated "phew!" gesture as I left the room saying thank you. As I left I heard more comments "I LIKE her, she's got spunk, precious, world's best singer". Okay, last one was not said, but the others all were. I thought to myself, hey... if I didn't walk out singing my best at least I made a strong personality impression!

As I'm learning the dance combination some woman comes in, hands me lines and says "they want you to read for Kristine when you go back in". I guess I kind of did portray myself as a Kristine. Or a Judy. Anyways... dance combination, legit original choreography, no changes, even has that ridiculous turn into arabesque into jump turn thing that always terrified me (though now that I've done it I can say it's much less scary than it looks). The evil side of me was very happy that non-dancers would not be able to pull this off (come on, we all have evil thoughts). The punishment for this evil thought was that in my small group of 4 who would be showing the combination to the casting people there was one girl who was CLEARLY the best. I was hoping for the dance part I would at least be able to shine above the others in my small group setting. But no, there was awesome girl. Let's just refer to her as that from now on-- Awesome Girl. Yes, she's a returning character.

So we go in, do the combination a few times, director guy asks if we were all given lines to read or not. Awesome Girl replies in the negative. Well that just won't do, this girl can dance! "Oh no, oh no, you have to read... get her Val's lines". If she wasn't asked to read after singing, why give her Val's lines, one of 3 female characters who has a legit song solo? I'm a horrible person. But at least I know it and am not afraid to admit it. It's one of those things you can think, but shouldn't say outloud. I type it here... essentially the same. Anyways... I read for Kristine. All is wonderful. Then, Funny Girl guy throws me a curve ball. Remember how I said I'd never have to read for Fanny Brice? Well, in a way I was right, but in a very bad way I was wrong. Funny Girl guy must have liked my dancing, or reading of Kristine or something right then and there enough to say to me "Okay, now do me a favor. Read those same lines again but with a thick, New York, Jewish accent".

................

................

"I'm sorry, what?"-- internal thought bubble

..................

..................

"Okay!"-- external verablization. Now the worst part of this wasn't reading lines in the accent, it was trying to pull off nervous, forgetful Kristine's lines in a Fanny Brice way.... they could not be more opposite. The accent was just the kicker. Of course, I didn't think to practice the accent beforehand, because who on earth would actually think I was right for this role? But I start... "I mean, I used to watch everything on TV that had dancing on it. Especially, oh... what was it? Um..." except, oh god, it's coming up British. I pause. Hold back a nervous chuckle. Pause for a painful 10 seconds or so, come really close to saying "I'm sorry, I can't do it, I'm just really nervous" (which I only later realized was nearly a word for word quote of Kristine), but decided to continue. I'm glad I did, because then things started sounding right. I channeled my inner Streisand and thank goodness, I'm suddenly sounding like a Jew. I'm thanked and Chorus Line guy asks me to come back tomorrow. Callback.

So fastforward 22.5 hours and I'm back, not knowing what to expect. After sitting around for about 15 minutes some woman says "If you're here for callbacks for ACL and want to go over the dance the assistant choreographer is in the other room and will practice with you". So I get up and go. After running it twice I'm pulled to the front of the room by Assistant man for others to watch. Confidence boost. woot. We run it about 87 times. An hour later Chorus Line guy comes in to watch. We're split into groups of 5. Though I try as hard as possible to avoid it, by standing on the opposite side of the room, I'm in the same group as Awesome Girl. Last thing I want. Of course, after my group he pulls Awesome Girl aside. He ends up pulling 2 others aside too from the rest of the group. They're asked to read. Awesome Girl for Cassie. Obviously. I later found out she's played it twice before... and she's 4 years younger than me.... way too young to play it when it's being cast somewhat by age, but it was clear they were eyeing her for exactly that purpose, and rightly so, given the other people there. I mean, she's Awesome Girl. They get pulled into another room to read. We continue practicing. Assistant man gets fed up and says (paraphrase... I did not memorize his speech) "I know not all of you have danced before and that this has to be a process. I'm willing to teach slowly and will happily give corrections, but if I'm giving the same corrections over and over again and seeing no changes it tells me you're not teachable. In all of you here today there are only two of you who I would say "Hired!" on the spot, that's it. So the rest of you pick it up if you want this". As he said the two of you bit he stared me down. Others turned to look at the source of his stare. It was awkward. Obviously Awesome Girl is person number 2. At this point I'm thinking it's much more community theatre than the pre-professional ideal I was hoping for. In a group of about 30 maybe 6 had dance training... actual training. This wouldn't be the dance busting version of A Chorus Line I was hoping for. In a way I got my wish because I wanted to appear as the second best dancer.... not first best because I did not want any chance of being Cassie again, but second best still gives me a good chance at securing one of the 8 other line members. Another hour later Chorus Line guy comes in and watches us again... different groups, but yes, I'm still with Awesome Girl. Whole time director man is beaming at her. I feel sad. He calls a different set of 4 people to read/sing. Not me. We can all leave now.

So my hopest of hopes is that assistant man has some say, or director man did notice me next to the shine and sparkle of Awesome Girl. I'm trying to convince myself that he loved my reading of Kristine so much that he decided then and there that's who I would be and there was no need for me to read/sing again. One can wish. Now I just wait for the phone call. And I'm not very patient. Watch, I'll be cast as Fanny Brice and not get into Chorus Line. I bet that's what happens.

*************************************************************************
UPDATE:
So, as I mentioned earlier I got cast in the chorus of Funny Girl. I came very close to declining... but since I did not get in Children of Eden at all (the one show I really, really wanted) I decided to do it. Now I'm taking it as a sign, because I found an audition I want to do in July and low and behold the director of that (I found out later) is also the director of Funny Girl. So he will see me in Funny Girl, fall in love with my star quality and I'll get my desired role at July audition. haha. That's MY plan anyway. Plus, I'm actually enjoying Funny Girl more than Chorus Line right now. I'm a happy little ensembler. As I also just said, I am in Chorus Line. Funnily enough the part I got isn't one of the four I mentioned earlier as my only possibilities. Even more funny is that it's probably the one part I should have thought of for myself after I messed up my vocal audition. I got "Larry", Zach's assistant. The part hadn't even crossed my mind even though I figured it would go to a girl. But once I got the phone call I was like "righttt... that makes sense" since Larry has to be a strong dancer and can be a horrible singer... which is what was heard at my audition. I almost said no to Chorus Line also... because I really, really was hoping to be on the line and it was so disappointing that I wasn't... and I was sad that I wouldn't be singing, essentially at all. And it's going fine so far... we've only been dancing and it's a slow process, but enjoyable. And another note, Awesome Girl isn't in either show. I'm convinced she was offered "Larry" first and turned it down. Who knows.

2009-03-22T16:11:00.002-04:00

This here blog's topic is things that irritate me and things that excite me way more than they should. Let's jump right in and start with irritant number one...

People who pee on public toilet seats. To be completely honest, I don't understand the purpose of "hovering". I get you don't want the germs or the stds or who knows what you think you can catch... but in reality there are WAY more germs on sink handles, door knobs, counter tops etc. and about 98% of STDs can't survive once exposed to air... and even if they DID linger around, you would need a break in the skin to be affected. So if the skin on your butt is not bleeding, you are safe to sit on a toilet seat. But what do people do? They hover. Because they're paranoid and grossed out. And we all know hovering leads to splattering, which leads to more hovering. It's freakin annoying. If everyone just sat down then the public restroom world would be a much happier place. There would be no pee on seats and it would be perfection.

Irritant number two is really irritant number two and three. Both relate to how others perceive me. One (two?) is that I am ALWAYS "the approachable one" in public places. You know how you'll be lost and need directions, or want to know the time and you look for a friendly face to ask? Well, the friendly face is always me. I get approached by sooooo many strangers. Which is fine in a way... it's nice to know I'm viewed as approachable. But I am hardly a people person and probably the last person who would enjoy being approached by you. Plus, I always have an inner dialogue going in my head. If you interrupt the inner dialogue you often become the subject of the inner dialogue and it's not always pleasant... if only because I'm then thinking "there's ANOTHER person who approached me!". Second thing (third?) is related... strangers' first impression of me is "hey, approachable girl", and yet in social situations, others' first impression of me is "stuck up snob who is full of herself". If I could get somewhere in between, leaning toward the approachable side I would be happy. I feel like because I'm quiet and don't know how to talk to people I come across as stuck-up. People say I'm judgemental, yet I'm constantly judged and misunderstood. Tis not fair. There are irritants number 2 and 3.

Last irritant is recent. My need to think of funny blogs has entered into my dreams and it's ANNOYING. Something will happen in a dream that's amusing and in my dream state I will think to myself "I have to remember to put that in my blog". I'll give a couple of examples, both of which happened in dreams during the same night. In my dream my work has hired a new employee. She's introducing herself to me and like puckering her lips in an exaggerated fashion before saying her name... so I think "okay, she wants to do like a kiss on the cheek thing". As I lean in she starts slowly saying her name... I realize English is her second language and she has a very difficult to pronounce name and so the pursed lips were really her preparing to over-pronounce her name for me. I made an idiot of myself by leaning in for a kiss. My thought? "Must add to blog". In another dream one of my high school math teachers somehow re-entered my life. He showed up uninvited to some family party of mine and in the end of the dream he told me "although we shared undeniable passion he was 40 years my senior and it would never work" and then he kissed me. (Now this teacher I can promise I never had any sort of crush on). My first thought (mid kiss) was "Oh my god, I have to tell Griff I kissed an old math teacher!" Second thought, blog story! Now if these things happened to me in real life, sure they would make good blog stories, so my dream mind self was right to think "blog!". But they didn't happen in real life, and I'm not going to just make a blog about funny dreams so I'd be very happy if my dream self would stop screaming blog whenever something happens. (Although I will admit that upon waking I did spend a moment laughing that I thought to myself "I HAVE to tell Griff". haha)

Now the little things that make me incredibly happy... every morning and every afternoon when I'm waiting for the train I secretly hope I am standing in the prime location where, once the train stops, the door will be right in front of me. It's a little one-up I get on the others around me. I get excited if the door ends up really close to me and absolutely ecstatic if it lands so that I am right in the exact center of the doors. It's a bit OCD but if that train stops and I'm dead center between the doors I get REALLY excited. It's one of those little things I can be happy about during the day and I know it gets me wayyy more excited than it should.

Next one really doesn't make much sense, even compared to the train door thing. But if I get sent an email that's like a quiz or a fill out about me type of thing I get really happy. I enjoy filling these things out even though I know no one reads them. Maybe it's a narcissism thing, maybe it's the joy of self-discovery (although I don't know how much typing in my favorite color and preference for summer over winter leads to self discovery). Maybe it's just I enjoy that I'm special enough to someone to have them think of me when determining who to send the email to (because you know they wouldn't annoy just anyone with these things). But yes, I enjoy getting tagged in facebook in these things, filling them out, and thinking that maybe just one random person will actually read it.

Another little joy is similar to the train thing in that it's something I encounter every day. I park in a commuter parking lot every morning. It's tiny... there are 4 rows of cars. I regularly park in the 3rd row, sometimes forced to the 4th. If there is a spot in the 2nd row it starts my day off on a really positive note. Even though it means literally only about 4 seconds less of walking (and sometimes actually more depending on how far down the line the empty space is) the fact that I was able to park in the SECOND row versus the third gets me really excited.

In summary it doesn't take much to make me happy.... and I want everyone to sit on public toilet seats.

2009-03-13T11:06:00.006-04:00

I've been thinking a lot of random, yet somewhat interconnected thoughts lately. I will try my best to verbalize them and their interconnectedness. Please, try to bear with me on this blog and get through it. I think it might be rewarding in the end. Or maybe not, but I want it to be given an honest effort, because it's different from my normal blogs and I'm testing the waters here. One, I've been thinking about passions... what it means to be passionate about something, what are popular common passions among people (music, fashion...), what I thought my passions were, what they really are, etc. Next, (totally separate thought with no relevance to my passion theme yet), I found myself consciously making an effort to think of an inspiring blog and I thought of how much it slash I have changed since this here blog's onset. Back in 2004 or whenever this was created (oh my gosh, was it really 5+ years ago?) I found the humor in everything and writing a clever, funny blog was effortless. I did it daily at one point. Now, I try to force out funny when in reality all I can really think of and want to talk about is more philosophical in nature. Is this just me grown up? There's nothing wrong with writing a philosophical-esque blog, but I miss the funny side and feel like that's what this blog has been about from the onset... the random, everyday occurrences that I find humor in. It saddened and yet intrigued and contradictorily (so not a word) in some ways excited, me to realize that maybe my way of thinking of things has changed and matured in the past 5 years. Third thought is really the connection of things... In realizing how my thought process or whatever you should call it has changed, (which remember, started with thinking of a blog topic), I thought more in depth about passions and how my passions have changed over the years... and if they have changed, was I ever really passionate about those old things in the first place? I came to the conclusion that there are passions, things of interest, intrigue and inspiration, and, for lack of a better word, affairs.

Oh yes, they are three distinct, entirely separate categories which I can place my "hobbies" into with ease. In going with my new turn to philosophy, let's start with definitions. And because I like listing everything in my life let's do it in a list like fashion.

Passions: Passions never leave you; they are intrinsic to who you are and something you can not live without. I believe that most people have one "ultimate passion" that started at an early age and is held throughout life. Other passions can develop over time. If something is your ultimate passion, you know it- absolutely no doubts- you will be 80 years old and still obsessed. You know the lame mantra that is so typically overused and paraphrased by way too many people.... if you can't stop thinking about something, it's the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you think about before you go to bed, then it's your passion? I think if this holds true for a solid length of time, I'm talking years, then it's a passion. Anything less than that solid, currently undefined, length of time and it could be an affair, we'll get to affair in mention #3.

I know my ultimate passion and it's no surprise to people who know me. Since I was 8 years old I have been obsessed with musical theatre. I will see absolutely any production at any level of experience, if only to learn more about my favorite art. I've followed performers, composers, lyricists, directors, choreographers, like a religion. And I KNOW that 60 years from now I will still go through NYC withdrawals in a matter of weeks after visiting Broadway. No questioning, no doubting, this is my ultimate passion.

And in all honesty I think I only have one other passion, and I say I think because it's currently developing. I believe my other passion is choreography. I had absolutely no respect for choreography as an art form in and of itself prior to 3 years ago. If anything, it was something I rolled my eyes at. I won't go into the whole "turn my perspective around" moment again, but in the past three years I have found myself unable to stop creating choreography. When listening to the radio, whether or not I leave the station on or change it depends on if I could see myself choreographing to the particular song on at that moment... if I can, I instantly start thinking about steps. I'm not kidding, choreography guides my radio listening. Throughout the day I think about new moves to the soundtrack of silence from my office. It's something I literally CAN NOT stop thinking about. And this has majorly influenced my viewing of musical theater as well. Suddenly my favorite thing about a show is its unique choreography, or on the other end, I'll end up overly critical of shows that are, in every other way, remarkable, but where the choreography is tired and unoriginal. It's funny to me because I never really saw musical theater as a "prime spot" to feature unique choreography. Musical theater dance, stereotypically, has the sparkle and the jazz and the tricks meant to impress... not innovative choreography and dancing. If that's what you wanted you go and check out any of the many professional modern dance companies. I think I'm getting off track. And I think what I was trying to say here is that I've found beautiful choreography in unlikely places, I'm seeing it everywhere. And to be clear, by beautiful I mean odd, odd inspires me and odd is beautiful. The musical theater dance reference was just an example and a way to bring together my two passions.

Both of my passions I enjoy partaking in myself as well as observing. I don't think you need to be a partaker for it to be a passion, but I do think you need to be a partaker for it to be your ultimate passion. For example, lots of people are passionate about music, but not all of these people are musicians, songwriters, singers, etc. However, for something to be an ultimate passion you must love it so much that to not partake would kill you. You don't have to make it a career, you don't have to do it regularly, you don't have to be good at it (I have a great example I won't disclose here). But you've meddled in it and enjoy every second that you are meddling.
Things of interest, intrigue and inspiration: These are the things you enjoy reading about, watching tv/movies about, and are pretty much a constant interest in your life. They just make you feel happy. Mine make me feel kind of nostalgic, or maybe the whole "warm & fuzzy" thing is a better description, but they have that same sense of excitement and warmth as opening a box you found in your attic of old keepsakes, untouched and unseen for years. (Lamest description ever right there) I have a few of these... some will sound random and bizarre until I explain: numbers/logic, food, makeup, movies, scents.

Numbers and logic, logic and numbers. Mentioning it here made me instantly think of a professor at Wheaton who I never knew very well and yet who said to me in a conversation (obviously it was said during a conversation) "so your major is math... is that really something you love?" It was a question full of disbelief and doubt. Not disbelief in the "everyone else in the world is afraid of and detests math, so I can't comprehend how someone could love it" kind of way, but disbelief in the "you seem so passionate and talented in other areas, but yet you chose math. i don't get it" kind of way. I replied with a "yes I love it" not because I love math in and of itself but because it's honestly all I would have wanted to study. I would have much preferred studying math to art or theater or psychology or anything else. There is definitely an innate love of logic and numbers in me. I love when things work out and there's a solution, I love solving puzzles, I try to systematically make sense of random things that are largely nonsensical. And parts of all of that are in math. I don't call it a passion because it's not something I find myself constantly thinking about. But I will always be intrigued by new puzzles; I will always enjoy carrying out everyday calculations (like the ratio of steps to my bus stop to the number of seconds it takes to walk it, graphed out over time- done in elementary school); I will always enjoy mapping things out in an effort to transform random information into concise stories (like the time I tried to create a venn diagram of sorts to determine groups for one of my dances based on individual dancers' strengths), and I will always be a mathy/logic nerd at heart.

Food... I could spend all day watching the food network or reading Gourmet magazine. I'll even read restaurant reviews for random places throughout the country. One of my favorite "unwind" things at Wheaton was to sit in the dining hall (that's not the food interest related bit, no worries), and read the food section of the Boston Globe. It's typically the only part I read. I don't enjoy cooking, just eating, and clearly hearing about food, innovative recipes, etc. I've had one true fine dining experience, (because I still can't justify spending so much money on food), and I still find myself constantly thinking back to it. Food is definitely something that interests, intrigues and inspires me.

There's not much to say about makeup other than that I constantly find myself visiting sephora.com (or spending hours in the store) browsing through new products and dreaming about purchasing it all. I have 16 makeup related websites in my bookmarks, ranging from brand specific like covergirl.com to the more product review, news, makeup swap, message board free-for-all type of sites like makeupalley.com. I got depressed when I got a full time job and had to face the fact that I had to wear natural looking makeup rather than my normal, wear it all, try everything, it always washes off, approach. As a result whenever I'm not in work I go overboard and look ridiculous.

Besides makeup my other constant splurge, make me feel good, impulse type of purchase are dvds. I don't over-analyze movies or get into deep conversations about how so and so film was ground-breaking in its camera technique or use of lighting or anything like that, but I really enjoy all types of movies. I've watched and loved all genres, including foreign films and silent films. It's one of my personal goals to watch all of imdb.com's top 250 movies of all time before I die. I don't do it to be cultured and I'm no movie snob, one of my favorite movies is the horrendous Simply Irresistible and you know I was first in line to see Confessions of a Shopaholic, but I just love movies. They make me content.

Last on the list I believe was scents. This is largely related to beauty, and I guess food too, though not necessarily. I love researching about perfumes and know all about top notes, middle notes and base notes; I love reading about the science and history behind it all and I know that my preferred fragrance family is oriental woody, rather than any of the florals, softer orientals, mossy or dry woods, or citrus, green or water "fresh"s (I also know that there are multiple ways of grouping families of scents, including one by the French perfume committee, which is an actual group). But my love of scents goes beyond perfumes. And no, it's not just enjoying the smell of freshly baked bread either, though I enjoy it as much as anybody. I can say that my favorite article in any magazine is one that pertains to scent. It's a common topic... why we're attracted to certain scents, how scent is related to memory, how smells can effect your mood (arometherapy anyone?)... type of article sound familiar? I even picked up the current $5 issue of Vogue almost entirely because when flipping through it I saw an article with two giant paintings of a nose and a title that read something like "The marketing of scents". The title wasn't actually that lame and it didn't even have anything to do with marketing, more like... scented air in Vegas and custom perfumes or something, and it's bugging me that I can't find the article online... I'll just replace with the real title later when I get home and have the article in front of me.

So yes, if there's something you can't read/hear/see/experience enough of, but it's not something you think about constantly, I'd say it fits in here, to the "things of interest, intrigue and inspiration" category.
Affairs: Affairs are things you try out... fall in love with for a period of time but then slowly fade away. In this category are a lot of the things you might have said you were passionate about when you were younger. Affairs come and go, but you always have a soft spot for them. (I feel like I'm writing the results to the end of a quiz or something... "Your color personality is brown. You are grounded, down to earth and appreciate the small things in life...")

I'd say I've had two affairs. haha... I'm still immature enough to find that phrase slightly amusing in this context. Anyways, they would be art and poetry. There was a period of time where I wanted to be an artist and a period of time (even through college) that I wanted to be a poet or writer.

The art story I find oddly entertaining... I loved art in elementary school and even took private art lessons for several years. I continued to take art in school when it was no longer required and considered it equal in level to my love of singing and dancing. Then came time for high school... the first time in my life I wouldn't be able to take both art and choir. By this time I had stopped the private art lessons and taken up private voice lessons instead... since I was just starting to get involved in actually performing in musical theater. I decided to try out slash apply for the honors level choir and the honors level art class, figuring I'd let fate decide which path I chose if I got into one but not the other (too conceited to think I wouldn't get into either, which of course is what happened. hah). But it was still a turning point. Because I realized I loved singing so much, and was so disappointed to have not made it in the honors choir, that I would skip a year of History and instead take the "normal", elective level choir as well as a Voice class for credit at school in order to make my way in with the choir teacher and improve enough to make it into honors choir next year (which I did). So even though I had the opportunity to (if I really wanted) skip History and take an art class and choir, I chose two singing classes. And since then I haven't picked up a paintbrush or a piece of charcoal. Looking back, I think art was one of those things I did because I was good at it and I enjoyed being good at something and to look at what I created... not something I genuinely loved the process of doing. It's funny though that something that was once so big a part of my time and life and that I did enjoy has faded out. Now I'm confident if I were to pick up a set of pastels again I would have no idea what to do. It definitely doesn't make me feel inspired.

Other one, like I said, is poetry. And this is a big one. I've always loved writing poems and genuinely thought I had a shot at being published in something besides the state papers and school publishings. I knew from about 9th grade I wanted to major in math and for a long time part of me wished I could do creative writing instead, but I wasn't confident in that as a logical career path. At least, I was certain I would do a creative writing minor. As I got older and high school was ending and college was starting I realized I wasn't writing as much.... what used to happen naturally and I'd have to pull out a scrap of paper while on the bus to jot down an idea was now coming in gaps measured in months. I don't know if it has to do with the fact that poetry was a huge outlet for me... I'd often write while crying about something or because I was feeling extremely hurt or scared.... and that by the end of high school I was feeling a lot better about my life so those emotions weren't there as much, but there was definitely a decrease in the writing. Then I took a poetry writing class at Wheaton and what happened? I ended up dropping it three-quarters through the semester. I hated being told when to write or what/how to write and I hated having my poetry critiqued. Things that were meant to inspire made me feel constricted. And I felt like everyone else in the class thought of me as an amateur in comparison because I was a math major amongst the english folk. I dropped the class in a fear that it would make me hate poetry. Ironically, while I do not hate it, I literally never write anymore. I think the last time I wrote a poem was maybe two and a half years ago... and I only wrote it because I thought to myself "hey, you haven't written a poem in awhile, let's sit down and write one". Another "passion" virtually gone.

It's funny to me because based on these definitions I've given here dance and singing aren't even included. I know they're related to musical theater and choreography, but they're really separate. I love dancing, I love singing, but they're not things I constantly think about and they're not things I follow (I will very rarely pay to see a dance performance or a vocalist, and if I do I often sit there thinking "I wish I spent this money to see a musical instead"). In other words, they're things I love to participate in much more than watch. I think why I love musical theater so much is because I get to dance, I get to sing, I get to act (which I also love, but aspects of it terrifies me), and it's always in preparation for a show (and I love performing). With dance there's the technique classes and long preparations for a show whereas for a musical it all happens usually in a matter of weeks, which means less wait time until you're on stage performing. Maybe I should have made a fourth category of things you enjoy but don't obsess over. Isn't it funny that two of my biggest loves fit into this "other" category?

So yeah, I don't know. I was just thinking about a lot of things. Things you may call passions really aren't, and things change over time, with a select few remaining constant. I guess I'll continue pondering... this was a long blog and really poorly written. I can see my senior year expository writing teacher having a heart attack at it's longwindedness. But I had an urge to express my more philosophical thinking, rather than force another attempt at a funny post.

2009-03-05T18:05:00.003-05:00

So yesterday I went into New York all by my lonesome to spend the day in the city. I left at 6:15 in the morning, got back at 2:00 the next morning and had plenty of fun all by myself. I frequently do this, simply because I am addicted to the city. If I haven't been there for a month I start to go through withdrawal, three months is pretty much my breaking point and then I will plan a day to go in by myself. So yesterday was my breaking point. My mom calls me "an odd duck" for going there alone, but I really don't mind it.

So I get into the city and start walking immediately to M&M World on Broadway for the Shrek musical lottery. I've wanted to see Shrek since it first came out late this past fall, mainly for its cast. I fell in love with Brian D'Arcy James, who plays Shrek, 3 years ago when I first came across the recording of The Wild Party, and since then I have seen him in everything he's performed in. He is brilliant. Then there's Sutton Foster, who's a big deal in musical theater land, and who I also loved until I saw her the other year in Drowsy Chaperone. Sure she's got talent, but she doesn't thrill me on stage. But she too I thought was worth seeing in this. Then, finally there's Chris Sieber as Lord Farquaad and John Tartaglia as Pinocchio who are both hilarious actors. These 4 together in 1 show made it worth seeing. Plus, the musical had potential because the movies were very funny. Anyways, if you've never done a Broadway lottery normally there are hundreds of people there all vying for about 14-24 tickets, winners are drawn by a lottery system. Well, I was happy to see only 5 other people there trying to get these tickets for both the matinee and evening performances. The lady still went through the process of spinning the tickets around in her lottery machine thing even though it was more than obvious we were all winning. Why, I don't know. Needless to say, I got my front row tickets for $25 for the matinee. Woo-hoo for me. Next on my list of things to do was find myself cheap tickets for an evening performance. I made my way to the theaters for In the Heights, Jersey Boys and Mamma Mia (3 of the most regularly sold out shows on Broadway) to see if I could get standing room tickets (which are only sold if the performance is sold out). None of these performances were being close to sold out, I was informed, so there was no shot of them selling me standing room tickets. I began to wonder if I would notice emptier theaters than normal due to the recession, if these three shows had "no chance" of selling out. Anyways, I then walked my way over to Mary Poppins to ask for a student ticket. Got one no problem, was told I could get as many as I wanted at the student price (even though I KNOW their policy is one ticket per student ID) and again thought about how hard the recession must be hitting broadway sales. (By the way, "my student ID" is actually that of Laura Peters. haha. She had lost hers, got a new one, found the lost one, had 2, and then gave me one so I could continue to see broadway shows at a cheaper rate for the next 2 years). So yes, I had my two show tickets, now what to do....

I decided to go walk around Central Park. In all of my visits to NYC I have NEVER been to Central Park. So even though it was in the teens, degree wise, and the park wouldn't be as "blossom-y" as if I went to visit in the spring or summer, I decided to go explore. I'm very happy I did. I walked around fairly aimlessly and ended up seeing quite a lot along Central Park's south end. I was amazed at how instantly the city noises went unheard once in the park and at how relatively un-people filled it was. Some people think I'm nuts going to the city alone and how it's not safe and blah blah blah... but I always think how there are 180000 people around so I'm not really worried. In Central Park someone could have very easily come up to me and taken my purse or taken me somewhere with no one else knowing. I wonder if it's like that during the warmer times. So I saw the Cop Cot, pond, Wollman rink, empty carousel, baseball fields galore, the snow covered Sheep Meadow, the bandshell and Bethesda Terrace... and I walked through the Children's Zoo quite unintentially on my way back. I spent a good 2.5 hours in the park just walking around. At one point I bought some of those Nuts 4 Nuts things. I felt kind of odd because I think of it as such a tourist treat but I like how they taste so I got them anyway. I walked around a bit to find the perfect bench right in the sun and sit down with my sugary almonds. A squirrel passes by and well, squirrels are my favorite rodent, so I fed him one of my almonds. Big mistake. Sure, he took it and ate it right in front of me, looking cute all the while. However, I was quickly reminded of that "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" book because that squirrel would not settle for just one almond. He jumped up on the bench and slowly, creepily inched his way closer to me... close enough to the point where if I just extended my hand I could have picked him up. Well, I had a horrendous image of this squirrel jumping on my lap and grabbing the bag of nuts from my hands so I quickly got up and left. So much for my sunny bench. Stupid squirrel. Of course, 3 minutes later I see a baby squirrel and toss him a nut.

On my way leaving the park I passed by this sign that I thought said "DANCERS (next line something in this sexual script, then) Men at work above" and I thought to myself... hmm... dancers, men at work above... there must be like a male strip club in one of the upper levels of this building... that's an odd way of advertising for it... "men at work". Then I re-read and realized it said "DANGER (still didn't catch the sexy script words) Men at work above". Sure enough, there were, quite obviously, 5 or so construction workers one level up on the outside of the building. I think I read it the first way because as I was leaving the park I heard one guy say to another "So they were all topless, I mean, all nice looking women", so I had strip joint on the mind. I wish I had taken a picture of the sign. Or at least deciphered the script writing. Who would write something in a sexual script on a Danger sign anyway?

So after my Central Park initiation with the hungry squirrel and wrong reading of the Danger sign I went to go see Shrek. Like I said, front row. Which for this particular show was unfortunate because the Lord Farquaad guy does the whole show on his knees and I couldn't get the full effect of the costume, but anyways. Talent was good.... Pinnocchio and the woman doing Gingy sounded IDENTICAL to the movie and Chris Sieber stole the show as Lord Farquaad. Hilarious. The songs were catchy (I left the theater with one stuck in my head for the rest of the day) and it had some moments that were particularly funny. All in all though there was something missing. The theater was only 1/4 full. I actually felt bad for the actors because the applause sounded so freaking pathetic after each song. One-third of the 1/4 full theatre was made up of visually impared children. ABC news was there doing some special on it. They gave all of the kids a listening device where some woman was dictating the whole show to them. It was nice, except for the fact that they were all right behind me and asking questions loudly to their parents the whole time about what was happening on the stage. I tried my best not to mind.

The highlight of the show for me was at the curtain call. haha. I'm about to sound like a giddy teenage fan fanatic but I don't care. So they take their bows and then like dance around the stage for 30 seconds or so before the curtain goes down. The entire time Brian D'Arcy James is looking right at me, making faces and dancing towards me. I was cracking up slash dying on the inside, because like I said, I love him. In the next ten minutes as I waited by the stage door I created a whole scene in my head. I imagined telling him how I've seen him in four things and how I think he is brilliant, him asking which 4, me telling him and then him catching me in a lie. See, I would have told him "Well, let's see, now I can say I've seen you in Shrek, and I've also seen The Apple Tree, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, and Wild Party" and then he would have said "Are you sure, Wild Party? I think I recall you saying you never got to see Wild Party". See, in my dream scene scenario he remembered talking to me for 20 minutes after Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (from over a year ago) about how much I loved the Wild Party and so wish I had the chance to see him in it. See, we had actually talked for about 20 minutes at the stage door once, about the Wild Party and Andrew Lippa and he asked if I was an actor, because it was unusual to see someone who spoke so passionately about such a little known show and I looked like I might be a performer, and etc and etc.... It was to the point where at the end of it I actually pictured him asking if I wanted to get a cup of coffee or something. haha. So as I'm envisioning this whole scene of him remembering me and that's why he was dancing towards me at the curtain call I realized it was the matinee performance and he probably wasn't leaving the theater so I probably shouldn't wait at the stage door. I asked the door guard person and he confirmed that Brian D'Arcy James, as well as Sutton Foster, don't leave after the matinee when there is an evening performance. I left smirking on the inside at all of the other people waiting at the door for Sutton Foster's autograph, wondering how long they would wait before they realize she's not coming out. (I felt the same way waiting for Brian D'Arcy James as I did when waiting for Ruthie Henshall.... I knew everyone else there was waiting for someone else (Sutton Foster/Kristin Chenoweth) and I was the only one who knew better). So I didn't get to see Brian D'Arcy James again. Oh well....

Next I got dinner at some cheap Thai place that was really good and cost me $15 for an app, dinner and tip. I was happy. Then I spent some time in Sephora and Virgin Megastore who was having a closing sale.... their idea of a closing sale is everything 10% off.... when full price averages $27.99 per dvd. No thanks. Then I went to Mary Poppins where I was more than pleasantly surprised. I've now seen 4 Disney musicals and Mary Poppins was by far the best. It was obviously better than Little Mermaid, which is the only one I can say probably wasn't worth seeing, but I also think it was better than Beauty and the Beast, which has like a cult following of Disney lovers, and even Lion King, deemed by many the best of broadway. The set was magnificent and I LOVED the choreography and dancing. I was happy to see it wasn't Disney-fied choreography but actually fairly unique. And the woman playing Mary Poppins was in a word, incredible. She's from England so this was her Broadway debut and her voice is superior to most performers I've seen and comparable to only a small handful of others (off the top of my head Audra MacDonald, Patti Lupone, Ruthie Henshall, Julia Murney and Kristin Chenoweth). That's right, she goes above and beyond many modern favorites like the previously mentioned Sutton Foster, as well as others like Idina Menzel and Kelli O'Hara. If she stays in America I think she could be huge, though I'd rather she remains relatively unknown and can stay one of my secret little-known favorites. I could not have been more surprised at how much I enjoyed Mary Poppins. That show and Brian D'Arcy James made my trip worthwhile. And I spent less than $100 for the whole day, train ticket and all. Love it. Can't wait to go back the next time my withdrawal hits an all time low.

2009-02-23T15:30:00.002-05:00

I've been thinking about begging for money... not me personally, though a few extra bucks would be nice. No, I mean others I witness begging for money. It's hard for me not to think about it when everyday on my way home from work the same guy (who is clearly employed, considering he's always dressed in different jeans and tops with a construction vest and hat) asks if I can spare $3.75 for his train ride. I don't get it... if you can't afford to take the train everyday, then don't. I don't know how he expects to get $3.75 from people EVERY DAY and count on it to get to and from wherever it is he's going/coming from. And I don't know what it is with me, but I'm always the only one I notice him asking. If I say no every other day, I'm going to say no today too. I'm sorry, but when you beg like this you get no sympathy from me. True, I don't know his story. True, considering I only see him asking me it may be some pathetic way at trying to talk to me (haha... trying to get someone's attention by begging them for money). But still, I don't sympathize with him.

So this made me think about effective methods of begging. In my short 22 years on this here planet I've come across dozens and dozens of beggars. Some are definitely more effective in their technique and are more likely to get mine (and probably others) money... even if it's only some of the change that's loose at the bottom of my purse. (SIDE NOTE: please people, don't get all PC on me here and declare me a horrible person for discussing this the way I'm about to or even for just the topic of the blog. Sometimes it's the overly PC people who get on my nerves more than those who are close-minded and just completely speak their point of view. Obviously, I'm also speaking humorously about this here... and don't get all "it's not something to joke about" on me either. Quick vent. Anyways...)

So like I said, the guy at the train station everyday who is clearly employed and asks for money everyday will not be getting a penny from me. I do not sympathize with him whatsoever. Also, if you're on the side of the road with a sign or a bucket for money 99 times out of 100 I wouldn't give you a penny either. Call me whatever you want, but I can't help but wonder if the money they get goes straight to drugs or alcohol... and there's no way I will help fund that. I would be more than willing to buy them some food, but after one time when I bought a pizza for someone with a "will work for food" sign and had it thrown back in my face, that isn't likely to happen now either. I won't provide money... I will provide food... but now I have a constant fear that it will come across the wrong way or won't be appreciated, so I don't give food either.

So what does work? Let me just say I had one case that was incredibly sneaky (at least to a non-world wise girl like myself) but clever enough that I didn't feel at all apprehensive about giving away a couple of dollars to the guy. I was in Chicago, by myself. I had just gotten a cab from the airport to the train station. The minute the cab pulled up to the train station someone opened the trunk and took out my bags... before I was out of the car. My gut instinct was that it was being stolen but when the cab driver acted as if this was entirely normal and I noticed the person wasn't running off with my luggage I relaxed. When I got out of the cab the person didn't ask IF he could carry my bags for me, he just asked "Will you be traveling with Amtrak or via the local trains, miss?" and I responded and he politely asked me to follow him. I didn't catch on to his scheme at all. I was thinking he was like... hired by the city of Chicago and that Chicago was just a much nicer city than any I had been to before. While he carried my bags he chatted with me very politely. When I got to where I had to be he handed me my bags and... well, to be honest I don't remember if he said something, paused and didn't leave, or held out his hand, but whatever it was it was clear to me he was looking for some type of a tip. Only then did I realize he was probably just some guy living on the streets looking for extra cash. But because he did something for me and was very polite, I didn't mind giving him a dollar. Probably everyone else would have seen through this instantly, but I didn't... and I don't mind.

You're also more likely to get something from me if you offer something in exchange... street performers, people who sell ANYTHING (you could even sell dandelions for $1 and I would buy them for the effort). Don't push it on me, like those people you see in the movies who start washing your car as you pull up to a stop sign. But if you make an effort, I'll spare some change.

If you can somehow manage to afford one really nice outfit, it would probably be a good investment. Only because people are MUCH more willing, I feel, to give to those who are not homeless, not hungry, but just forgot their wallet at home and are looking to get a train ticket so they're not stranded. Think about it, a guy who's dressed nice comes up to you and apologizes right away and says he's embarrassed that he just realized he's short by $2 to get a ticket... you're more likely to believe him and give him the money.... because he's not some "crazy homeless beggar" (I swear, I didn't mean that to be mean... just trying to explain the extreme of what people might think. Here's where the PC warning really comes into play). I was even in this situation once as the beg-ee. Granted, it probably helped that I was a teenager and obviously scared out of my wits but still.... I took the T in Boston for the first time, completely alone. And stupidly, I only brought exactly how much money I needed. Well, I didn't transfer at the right spot and ended up at the end of the line... which line I don't know, but I was way off. I needed $4 to get back to where I was supposed to be. It was nighttime, nearly empty and I was freaking out. My plan was to go up to different groups of people who seemed approachable and ask for the $4, explaining the situation. I only had to ask one person. See what I mean? If you were able to pull off faking this type of situation as a beggar I bet you'd make lots of money. It's not honest, but it's effective.

Speaking of not honest, on this really lame TV show I watch, even though it's awful, contestants had to come up with the best new outfit when only given $15. Some of them went up to people on the street and said they were raising money for a charity and then used the money to help them get a better outfit. If you can pull of this situation as a beggar, it's even more dishonest but even more effective. Or you could always pull children into it somehow. Get them to do the begging for you, pretend you have a kid, etc etc.... children make people want to give money. According to Slumdog Millionaire blind children who sing work best.

There are certain methods of begging that are more effective. Basically, the more dishonest you are or the harder you try to give something back the more likely you are to get others' money. This blog is pretty shameful, but it's what my imagination ran away with, thinking about my Stamford train guy. So I shared.

2009-02-19T10:57:00.004-05:00

I'm not going to lie... I cheated in order to find inspiration for this blog. Truth be told, nothing really amusing has happened to me lately. It's rather depressing. So, I decided to google "funny things that happen to everyone" to see if I found something interesting to blog about. (It's so pathetic that I've come down to googling for blog ideas. Where did all my insightful creativity go? Slash what happened to all the interesting things that used to happen to me?)

So in my google quest I found a website entitled "Funny Things You Shouldn't Laugh At But Do Anyway". Somehow it had two titles and was also called "18 Things Everyone Finds Hilarious But Shouldn't". I want to know how they earned a two-title fame. So here was the list.... my comments slash random tangents are interspersed in orange. Of course they're in orange.

1. Ugly babies
Now, maybe I just haven't been around enough babies because I try to avoid them as best I can... but I don't recall ever seeing any ugly babies. I know, I know... "all babies are beautiful". But to me, all babies are terrifying. When they're really young they don't talk, but you can tell in their eyes they are taking everything in and they're working extra hard to absorb everything and gain attention and love... this may be wonderful to most people but the fact that these are little people, observing you unashamedly and unable to talk completely freaks me out. It's like young children (fully capable of speech at this point) who will turn and just look at you... some people enjoy making faces at them to get them to smile, while I just want to coldly stare them down until they're afraid and look away. I hate staring. Back to babies, when they're older they're just crawling, noisy tornadoes. I don't know how to act around babies or children. They're like an odd necessity before you become a real person. It may surprise you to know that I actually want a large family and several children. What can I say, I'm a conundrum. Now that I wrote it, I don't think that word pertains to people.... let's change it to enigma. Anyways, even though I'm not a fan of babies or children, I don't laugh at ugly babies, so there's a positive to offset the negative. Next!

2. People who walk with something heavy in one hand and have to lean really far the other way to balance themselves.
It's funny, but the familiarity I have with this statement is only because it so often pertains to me being the one walking lopsided. I never notice others walking with something heavy in one hand and having to lean really far the other way to balance themselves. And I'm a ridiculously observant slash people-watching kinda person. Am I missing out on something funny here by never being on the spectator side? I'm a bit relieved now to know others laugh at me when I look like this... it's oddly more securing to know it rather than wonder hmmm... are people staring at me and chuckling to themselves?

3. When someone turns around and goes back the same way they were coming.
Okay, here's another one. I do this constantly, but I rarely notice others doing it. Actually, what I do when I realize I'm walking the wrong way is keep walking that way for a bit, stop and pull out a cellphone, pretend to call someone, pause while it's "ringing" and then casually start strolling back in the other direction as if I'm just walking around while on the phone... even though no one is on the other line and it's just a way of turning around without being so obvious (or maybe it's overly obvious, hah). Or I'll do the opposite and make it ridiculously obvious... I'll do like a mime move of "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot something and have to go back!" so that it's more of a sympathy thing than an odd embarassed person turning around. I'm so bizarre.

4. Cops riding anything except police cars: Bikes, Bicycles, Boats, and especially Horses.
Here's the first one I can somewhat agree with. Cops on bicycles or horses do make me laugh. It's like... what's the point? Do horses really make police escapades more efficient? And bicycles ring in as something childish and slow. You've got the shiny car with the twirling red lights you so often abuse to speed by people when there's no emergency. Use it! And I've never seen a cop in a boat but that would be very amusing. Especially if they were behind the steering wheel... or sitting in the crow's nest with a telescope.

5. People who say stupid things but really mean them.
You mean genuinely stupid people who aren't just sarcastic? I don't laugh at them because I am often that person. I don't mind people laughing at me with that stuff though... I've come to terms with my stupidity. Just yesterday I asked someone if a BB gun was like a paintball gun or a cap gun or a real gun. I heard a news story about a father shooting his son in the bum with a BB gun and didn't understand why it was such an issue. I thought it was a child's play thing. Don't worry... I won't buy your child a BB gun, or shoot him in the bum with one.

6. Girls that wear belts that have no function and are not even attached to anything.
Okay, I've done this, we've all done this. Sometimes it's about fashion and not about practicality. No use in laughing about it unless it looks utterly ridiculous. Which sometimes it does.

7. Cats wearing clothing
I laugh at dogs wearing clothing. Any animal wearing clothing is amusing and ridiculous. Let's not limit it to cats.

8. People who animatedly sing in their car.
This I am 110% guilty of. My car time is my vocalization time and I don't care how loud or animated I am. I secretly wish that someone will hear me and think it's a CD I have and not me singing. I'm sure I've been caught, both visually and auditorially. I flatter myself by thinking they're more impressed than amused. I'm sure it's not true. I sound so freakin full of myself. hah

9. Fannypacks.
They're amusing, of course. However, I rather admire people who use them because they don't care that they're amusing and "went out of style" 20 years ago. I see a fannypack on a hip and smile at the person... they're too cool for school.

10. Guys who drive with their shirts off.
This is always amusing in one of two ways... if they're attractive and muscular it's clear they know it and want to show it. And if they're not then they're usually a mix-breed of the trucker/hick variety and frankly... they're feeling the heat from the sun and don't care what hangs out to gain some more comfort.

11. When you tell someone to watch out and they don’t.
This would be amusing if I told people to watch out. But I prefer to say nothing and then laugh when the inevitable happens. One word-- schadenfreude.

12. People who have full protective gear on when they ride a bicycle or rollerblade (kneepads and everything).
This IS funny. It's funny to me to see just a helmet even though I would always wear one and I know it's the law. It just screams "I'm on the lookout for anything bad to happen to my head!". My ultimate favorite though is people who wear helmets with a headlight on it, a la a miner, when walking at night. Or during the day when walkers wear the bright orange, construction worker vest thing with reflectors. I love it. Keeps me young.

13. When you catch someone talking to themselves.
This is also funny, but unfortunately I'm often on the other side of this one too. I'm a compulsive self-talker. The worst is sometimes I'll be singing a song in my head and then one of the words will come out... so it appears like I just sang a random word. This is most likely to occur in my otherwise silent office. I try to play it off my coughing afterward. It doesn't work.

14. Stupid car horns.
Like horns that play a tune when you hit it? That would be awesome! I've never heard one in person, but I'm sure I would be completely envious rather than filled with laughter. I really enjoy obviously nerdy things. Now, if we're not talking tunes... if we're talking like Little Miss Sunshine horn that doesn't stop, that's just annoying. It might get to the point where it's so ridiculous that you laugh at it before remembering it's really just annoying and not all that funny.

15. Clowns and mascots. Not because they are funny, but because they are sad.
I can relate to this one. The people behind the clowns and mascots are making a fool of themselves for attention when they know the truth is that no one enjoys them anyways.

16. When someone turns around to say something to the person they are with and find that they aren’t there anymore.
God, I wish I witnessed these things more often! Why am I always the one doing these awkward things instead of getting to see and laugh at them! I would probably laugh at this. If one of my friends will purposefully do this next time I'm around, I would appreciate it. I want to know if I'd find it funny.

17. Anytime someone runs into something
This is always funny. Probably the only one on the list that makes you violently want to laugh out loud, and the one of the list that it would be least appropriate to do so. I constantly find myself in a situation where minutes afterward I'm still trying to bite my lip to keep a laugh from spilling out. Here's another place where sometimes I can't help it and then I try to cover it up with a cough. Know that I very rarely genuinely cough. It's quite often an attempted cover.

18. The plural of "salami"
Okay... I did not know the plural of salami so I proceeded to look it up. I got three variations. One place said "salami" was both singular and plural. I agree with this. It's what sounds correct. Another site said "salami" was the plural form of "salame" while the last said "salami" was singular and "salamis" was plural. I don't know what to believe. But I don't find any amusing.

2009-01-30T09:30:00.002-05:00

Hello again all. So I take the train in to work everyday. Primary reason? Originally it was to save money because gas was nearly $5/gallon and it's 36 miles from home to work. Theoretically it also saved time, but I don't know how much this is really true. With traffic the commute can take an hour and a half... picking this or a 35 minute train ride isn't really that hard of a decision. But then take into account driving to the train station, waiting for the train, waiting at the Stamford train station for the shuttle, taking the shuttle to the office, etc. etc. and it adds up. It's pretty much an hour and 25 minute trip from door to door. So with gas cheaper now why do I still take the train? Simply, it is my "me time". I get to rest my eyes, let my mind wander into scaringly random yet completely enjoyable chains of thought and read. I've literally read more books in the past 8 months than I have throughout my entire life... averaging about one a week. Lately I've gotten into rereading books I had to read in high school. My theory is that anything that is ever assigned is never enjoyable. I could be asked to read Harry Potter for a class and because it's something I have to do, I will with near certainty hate the book. So let's give these classics a try again, with a new outlook. I read Pride & Prejudice and absolutely loved it. Other Jane Austen books are now on my wish list. It's so humorous to me because I clearly remember it being one of the books I hated reading the most in 9th grade. Currently I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities which I remember enjoying in jr. high. While I'm reading these on the train I constantly wonder if others think I'm a highschool/college student reading these for a class, one of those nerdy book people who reads the classics and non-fiction instead of chick-lit or thriller novels, or an intellectual whose taste in books is attractive in a slightly intimidating, yet intriguing way. I hope to come across as the latter but feel like 7 times out of 10 I'm perceived as one of the first two. Anyways, this is a divergent from what I really want to get to here. I always do this. Come here with a topic in mind, mean to offer up a small introduction to it and get on a complete side track... wait until you see how little this whole reading thing has to do with my main topic, and the mentioning of why I take the train has literally nothing to do with it at all. All I had to say as an introduction is that I take the train. For someone who doesn't talk much, my mind certainly is always in overload and apparently it comes out when I freewrite like this. Anyways...

So I'm on the train coming home last night and I'm reading A Tale of Two Cities. I'm at the beginning where what's his face is acquitted and I'm fairly into it but I'm also observing things going on around the train while reading. I love people watching and the train is one of the primary people watching hot spots. First a guy sitting across from me drops his magazines, Men's Fitness, and hidden inbetween, Maxim. I pick them up for him and wonder if he's embarassed in his magazine choice and that a girl around his age picked them up for him. I mean, he DID have the Maxim with a barely-qualifies-as-a-bikini model on the cover hidden behind a Men's Fitness so as to conceal what he was actually reading. He soon loses my interest and I'm back to reading. Then, I'm overhearing a conversation between 3 older 20 somethings... probably 5 or so years older than me. Before long I was pretending to read my book and really concentrating my full attention on their conversation. They were talking about TGIF. I found myself totally absorbed by nostalgia and felt like I was a part of their reminiscing even though I was just an eavesdropper pretending to read a book.

First of all, the mere mention of all of these shows made me remember how much television I watched growing up. TGIF and SNICK were my obsessions. As they mentioned the various lineups I realized how many "seasons" of TGIF I went through as a child. The shows I remember watching were Full House, Family Matters, Step by Step, Perfect Strangers, Hangin with Mr. Cooper, Dinosaurs, Boy Meets World, and later on- Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Naturally when I got home I looked up when all of these shows aired on TGIF to see when my prime watching years were. I was SHOCKED to find out Perfect Strangers aired in 1990 and 1991 meaning I was 3 and 4 years old when I watched this. The sheer fact that I remember this show from so young an age amazes me. Eventually the good shows were replaced with the bad... it all started with Sabrina... Clueless came in there and Teen Angel and probably 3 or 4 other shows that lasted less than 10 episodes. Basically I stopped watching when Family Matters and Step by Step left and that's what these 20 somethings said too. I realized, through my internet research, that my TGIF watching lasted exactly as long my SNICK watching. Both expired in early 1997 for whatever reason... when I was 10. (This was the same time my parents got a divorce and now I can't help but wonder if there was some subconcious connection. I really think it was the change over to lame shows that did it though.) For SNICK I remember the Clarissa, Roundhouse, Ren & Stimpy and Are You Afraid of the Dark lineup the best... which also scares me considering I was around 5 and 6 then. And yes, I watched Alex Mack and All That and Kenan & Kel when they came around. But then there was Kablam and Shelby Woo and Allen Strange and SNICK and the big orange couch lost all appeal for me. Now my favorite TGIF shows are on Nick at Nite which really scares me since that was always the station for the "old tv shows" growing up.

Shoot, I'm on a tangent again.

Forget it, I'll give in to all of the tangents, and now confess what the topic here was supposed to be. My intention was to discuss what it is that's so connecting about reminiscing and why nostalgia is so enjoyable. Way back in the day nostalgia was viewed as a medical condition and a sign of depression. Now I think it is primarily comforting to people rather than painful and we all must confess that at times we get nostalgic and fantasize about going back to certain times. Certainly, we all enjoy reminiscing and thinking about things that happened years ago. I can't tell you how many times my cousins and I have tried to list out all of the episodes of Are You Afraid of the Dark that we remembered, how many times my friends and I discuss tamagachi's and pogs, the age we got our first CD player or that time Mrs. Moger fell into the pond. I still bring up Vlinks to everyone I meet, unable to accept the fact that it really was just an Orange, CT fad. (Essentially $80 walkie-talkies disguised as a cellphone with a 4 digit number that worked within a range of 3 blocks and became so popular they were banned from my elementary school... ). We feel connected to the past and to each other in remembering these stories. It's why I felt connected to these 3 20somethings even though I wasn't partaking in their conversation at all. Guarantee you're smiling right now remembering skip-its, slip and slides and crimping your hair. I've gone so far as to repurchase Polly Pockets I owned as a child, favorite Golden books that probably got sold for a nickel at a tag sale back in 1993, the complete collection of Barbie trading cards I used to reorganize constantly growing up, and everyone knows I own all the seasons of Are You Afraid of the Dark and Doug on dvd. I don't need all this stuff, but I feel like I do. Is it only childhood things that you reminisce on? Does it stem from wanting to reconnect to your carefree days of youth? (Lamest sentence ever right there) I have no idea why reminiscing is so enjoyable and nostalgia so comforting. But I certainly enjoy looking back.

As an end note I'd like to say that I think my tangents are often much more enjoyable than my main topics. I should stop thinking of main topics and just write whatever. Eh, over it.

2008-11-05T16:45:00.003-05:00

Today I am living history. I'm not going to lie-- a friend said that to me. Though I would enjoy taking credit for "living history" I can't, simply because she will read this and yell at me. But living history I am. When I was younger I wondered a lot, about a lot of things. There were two "history-esque" things I always thought about:

We spent so much time in school learning about history and wars and yet I remember thinking that absolutely nothing "exciting" was going to happen in my lifetime. I naively thought then that everyone in the world was a pacifist and perfectly moral... after all, what we were learning about in school happened years ago, and certainly everyone learned from these wars and knew better now. There was no way a war would ever happen again. In my childish mind I secretly wished for something to happen so I could be a part of history.
I wondered if I would see an African-American president or a Female president in my lifetime. I wondered which would happen first, whether or not I saw either. I hoped to see both.

Well... naive wish number one came true seven years ago on September 11th. My immediate thought was guilt... for ever wishing for something bad to happen so I could "live in history books". Now, both wishes came true. I am living in history by voting the first African-American President into office. Funny how in my elementary school mind I couldn't live the stuff history books taught us without a war. I seemed to forget all about the civil rights movement, women's rights, and the most current battle-- LGBQTA rights. I couldn't comprehend that both wishes could come true at once. Now that they have, it's an incredible feeling.

When 9/11 first happened, I knew I was living in history then too. But to me, who knew nothing about the U.S. and world affairs, thought the attack was sudden and out of nowhere. A burst of hostility. And it was a tragic event. To be living through something positive, that I know has been only a dream for hundreds of years, is so rewarding. I heard people say that Barack Obama's race shouldn't matter at all in the election, so there's no reason to celebrate his win just because he is Black. I can somewhat agree with the first half but I have to strongly disagree with the second... first, the first half...

Only 19% of people polled said that race was a consideration in who they chose to vote for in this election. Is that 19% people who voted for Obama because he is black or 19% who voted for McCain because he isn't? I bet not too many people would admit that they didn't vote for Obama because of his skin color, but I would be retreating back to my childhood naivety if I said no one discriminated in that way anymore. 98% of African-American voters cast their ballot for Barack... do you really think that the percentage would have been that high if he were a white democrat? Me? I've been waiting 22 years to vote a black president into office. I'd be lying if I said no part of me voted for him because he is black. In fact, even though I think he is better suited for the presidency than John McCain, I can't honestly say that I would have chosen Obama over McCain if McCain were black and Obama white. Does that make me a bad American? The way I see it, African-Americans have been fighting long and hard in this country. If a candidate can make it so far as to gain their party's nomination, they have to have the ability to make a good President. So, so long as I don't hate the person running, I would probably choose a non-white candidate over a white one or a female over a male... at least for this first go around. 81% of voters said race wasn't a factor. But I bet it really was... at least to some extent.

On to the second... the fact that a black man won NEEDS to be celebrated. I know we live in a time where it shouldn't be an issue at all, it shouldn't be surprising, it shouldn't matter. But right now, today, it does. To see Jesse Jackson crying, explains it all. To the 106 year old daughter of a slave who cast her vote for Obama, it matters. It says so much about how our country has grown, and gives hope to the future. In several weeks time America will have an African-American President. That is something to celebrate.

2008-10-16T20:03:00.001-04:00

So guess who has a real job in the real world making real money and paying very real bills? That's right, me. I was lucky enough to graduate with a full time position and unlucky enough to have to start 2 days after graduation. So what's this real world like, you ask? My mother said to me the other day (and I'm providing nearly an exact quotation) "Trishaaaa, I feel so bad for you. I feel like all of your dreams are over! You've always looked forward to college, got there and loved it, and now it's done. All of your friends at Wheaton aren't here. You loved dance, but dance is no more. All you have left now is work... for the rest of your life... same thing, every day. I feel so bad for you! Do you feel bad for you!?!?"

.........

Gee thanks, Mom. Nothing about marriage, or raising a family, or a producer seeing me walk down the streets of Milford and shouting "I have to put her on Broadway!", or the possibility of graduate school, or a career change, or... I don't know.... traveling! I myself prefer to keep a positive outlook. I have things to look forward to in life still! I'm only 22! If I didn't have things to look forward to I'd have a pretty miserable 60+ years ahead of me. Thanks for helping me keep my chin up Mom :-) So optimistic.

So how do I think my life is going? It's pretty good. I actually feel like an adult for the first time in my life and I don't think it has anything to do with the real job or living on my own. It's like it sprung up out of nowhere. All throughout college I would look at pre-teens and younger teenagers and feel like I could relate more to them than I could relate to "legit for real" adult-adults. In my mind I would think, "I remember what it was like to walk around giggling and worrying so much about how I looked to boys and trying so hard to fit in and all that silly adolescent stuff". But now when I see them all I can think is "Teenagers are so bizarre with all this stuff they do, worry about and obsess over. I can't understand it". Suddenly I feel more like a parent to them than an "older kid" reminiscing about youth. I always wondered if I would ever really feel like an adult and now that's it here, I know it's here. It's bizarre.

But like I said, I really don't feel like that has anything to do with all of the "out of college now" changes. So what about those changes... well, the big one is the job, the topic with which I started out this blog. I'm doing market research which in a non-pretentious nutshell is writing surveys and analyzing the data that comes back. I decided to apply for market research jobs about halfway through senior year when I realized I had no idea what I wanted to do. I've always taken surveys online to earn a little (very little) extra money and suddenly came upon the realization that someone must actually write these things and look at the results. Being a huge math nerd, I always wished I could see the data after taking a survey and play around with the numbers and their implications. One trip to google and I found out these people are called market research analysts. So I said "okay!" and applied for a bunch of these positions that had relatively little to do with math but I thought might be fun because "well, hey! I like surveys!". And when none of the actuary, statistician, logistics, transportation planning (aka more "mathy") job applications worked out I said to myself "okay Trisha. let's go for the survey thing because, quite frankly, it's your only offer and you need to work." Hooray for my logical thinking.

Now I'm at a job where me, the girl with social anxiety, answers the phones and at least once a week (professionally, so as not to taint our company's reputation) has to tell off solicitors. I do real market research stuff too, I swear I'm not just a "phone girl" secretary. It's just so amusing that I have to answer phones when perhaps my biggest phobia is Telephonophobia (real word). Let's just say I'm getting over that one quickly. I have to! I can't sit there in front of the phone for 19 minutes, tapping my foot and twisting my hair, getting up the nerve to call a client. I can't just let the phone aimlessly ring when I know that if I don't answer it by the third ring someone else will and then I'll be "that Trisha, shirking her duties". In my first five months here I've gone through some pretty, after-the-fact, hilariously awkward mishaps due to my lack of social competency. I'd share some here but I'm paranoid that someone I work with is as crazy as me and will google me, find my blog, read this, be horrified and either a) fire me, though that would be a huge overreaction to any of my stories, and now that I think of it, would never actually happen because my stories are ridiculous and embarrassing but don't actually involve me doing anything wrong... b) heinously judge me for my social oddities.... c) create awkward tension in the office because they know my stories, but I don't know they know and they don't want me to know they searched me and secretly read my blog.... d) both b & c. God, they have me talking in survey language. Except that's really not how it's done at all... I just thought it would be humorous if I said that. Eh, not so much.

My biggest hassle with this whole answering the phone thing is I can't even pronounce our company's name correctly. I say "Ah-sew-see-its" instead of "Ah-sew-she-its" because Associates is such a freakin hard word to pronounce. I created a pronounciation cheat-sheet post-it note that I keep hidden on my desk near the phone. Not really, that's a lie. But it would be funny if I did. I'm lying a lot today in a vain attempt to keep things funny.

The last paragraph has been removed for reasons of paranoia. So this is the blog's new ending.

2008-04-28T16:30:00.002-04:00

So it's almost my graduation. THE graduation... cap and gown, entering the real world, you're done with school forever graduation. Well, unless of course graduate school is an option but I'm omitting the possibility of this minor flaw in my statement. As I sit down in my dorm room and think about the last 4 years as well as the remaining 71 years of my life (since I promised myself when I was 8 that I would live to be 92) I can't help but freak-out... smile too, cry a bit... actually I'm mostly excited about what's to come for me so I guess freak-out was a poor first word choice. Sorry about that. But at the same time, it is so sad. I realize I'm speaking the thoughts of every college graduate and there's absolutely no shock value to what I am saying but I don't care. I finally found a home at Wheaton and I couldn't be happier.

I look back at my post on Monday, June 28, 2004... the week of my high school graduation and smile. I hated high school... I don't miss it, never will and that's sad. I'm so happy now though to say that I had a great college experience... everyone needs a time and place in their life where they truly feel like they belong and for me it has been the past four years at Wheaton. It's especially important during the earlier years in one's life, no? Like, if you don't have a positive experience associated with a particular place and the people there before age 25 what a waste of childhood. You can have friends, boyfriends, family.... but to have a home away from home where you're comfortable being yourself and enjoy your experiences there.... I mean, that's important. I'm not being funny. I'm sorry. I think my years in college diminished my comedic thoughts. Not really actually.... that's a lie.... but what do you expect other than reflection when I'm two weeks from the end and the beginning of it all?

I actually started this hoping that some random funny thoughts would come pouring out of me, as usually happens when I start a blog topicless.... I'm a bit disappointed in myself. Oh well. Maybe if I just keep typing something will come to me.... though I do have a meeting in ten minutes and ten minutes isn't very much time to allow the creative process to take over. Speaking of creativity, I had my palm read this weekend. It was amusing. The guy, totally decked out in way too much hippie gear, looked at my palm and was like "WOAH! You're a writer. Right?" and I was like "uhhh...." Well that's a lie actually, I said yes to avoid a situation where he would ask me another question.... we know me with social interactions. Anyways, he's all like "I'm seeing major creativity in you... great imagination, great imagination". So at this point I'm tempted to tell him I'm a math major to see what he says, but I don't. Once again Trisha stifles her thoughts. Then he tells me I'm compassionate and I want to laugh out loud. I'm the most non-outwardly compassionate person I know... people tell me I'm stand-offish. But I keep my serious expression on and nod as he continues talking. He says I'm compassionate to the point where I'll let people walk all over me b/c I have a strong desire to please people... and I was like, okay, well that last bit is true... if that's how he defines compassionate I guess I am. Then he said to me "you're the type of person who when she says "how are you doing today?" you really are genuinely interested in their response" and I was back to wanting to laugh. I hate social conventions like asking people how they are b/c we all know no one really cares and is just being polite. He finished by saying I have a strong sense of relationships and I am mature beyond my years in terms of knowing what love actually is... b/c of my respect for marriage and innate understanding of true love I will have a very successful marriage. Now I realize he probably says this to every girl, but I almost started crying. Then again, I had about 3 liters of wine in me at this point, but.... yeah, my first palm reading experience was an enlightening one. And now it's time for my "meeting" aka math picnic. Look what I accomplished in the last ten minutes!!! A slightly more amusing tale than my original reflection on graduation! I'm a proud woman.

2007-07-29T02:47:00.000-04:00

I like taking quizzes online. It's a good way to procrastinate... finding out what type of coffee I am (cafe latte), which zodiac sign I should be (Virgo), which Britney Spears I am (the sexpot)... you know the type. There are a thousand and ten websites that offer these silly quizzes. Yes, I admit it, they're silly and their results hardly qualify as profound representations of my personality or character. But I can't help it... they're fun! And addicting. My favorite quiz site actually offers "Ph-D Certified" quizzes which range in topic from "The 5 Factor IPIP Personality Test" (not sure what IPIP actually is, but it sounds impressive... apparently I'm unusually conscientious) to "How Sinful Are You?" (I will go to Hell because I'm overly guilty of envy), to "What Breed of Dog Are You at Work?" (Border Collie). Who knows how legit these Ph-D Certified tests really are, or what that even means. At this website that I love I've taken 161 quizzes.... what a waste of my life. But as I look at the list of all my results I can't help but think that what's displayed on my laptop screen actually IS a more than decent representation of who I really am. If you look past the sexpot and border collie type of results you will see a whole lot about me that most people don't know.... cumulatively, these results really do describe me. It's all rather amusing and kind of fascinating at the same time... after all, these are silly quizzes!!!

Anyways, my goal with this post wasn't just to list my various quiz results... which up until now is pretty much all I've been doing. My real purpose in this blog is to tell you about a particular quiz I took where I learned something about myself, but not from the results.

So we all know how facebook has added these ridiculous applications, many of which I admittedly have subscribed to. Well, one of them is called PersonalityDNA. Essentially your everyday, run of the mill, can find it on any of the other one thousand and nine websites, personality quizzes. It is however, slightly more impressive as it does not involve multiple choice but rather more innovative answering techniques which (may) provide more accurate results. Also, if friends take the quiz too you can then each take it for each other and see how well you really know your friend. It's quite enjoyable. Anyways, I subscribed to the application and took the quiz and it ruled me as a "faithful director"... the words themselves don't particularly fit me, at least I don't think so, but their description fit me to a tee (T?/tea?... never quite got the expression). So, after I first took the quiz I kind of forgot about it. Then, around a month or two later I decided to retake it and see if I got the same results. It is a long quiz, and like I said, it doesn't have a straight forward way of answering so I figured I'd probably get something new. But there it was again... faithful director! I was mildly impressed. What really struck me though was one question in particular....

It was a question where the result required a sliding scale. The question was "I often avoid unnecessary social interaction" and I had to put the little cursor thing where I thought it belonged on the scale from "agree" to "disagree". I never really know how to answer these types of social questions anymore because I'm very different now from how I was and I'm very different depending on who I am with. Although I am quite outgoing with my friends now, even a bit of an attention craver, I still get extremely anxious in a lot of social situations. So, without really thinking about it too much I just slid the cursor closer to "agree" saying that I often do avoid unnecessary social interaction. Then I paused. It didn't seem right. And here's what I realized... a lot of the time I welcome unnecessary social interaction... I'm often even the one to initiate it. I like going out places or being with friends. Here's the thing... it's the necessary social interactions that I try to avoid. Those are the ones I hate... picking up the phone to call and make an appointment, going into the post office to mail a package, answering a question when I'm called on in class. These things are necessities and they're the ones I hate. Isn't it strange how this simple quiz question which is basically meant to test how extroverted/introverted you are doesn't even scratch the surface of what it's meant to be asking? No wonder why I have a hard time answering the "social questions".... it's not as simple as whether or not I'm introverted or extroverted. I always thought of myself as introverted, but by the description I gave of myself I'm really an extroverted individual at heart with certain social anxieties. I'm rambling... I'm well aware. Like that IPIP quiz said, I'm quite conscientious. But this one quiz question made me realize a lot of things about myself and get me thinking.... and that's worth blogging about. Anyways, visit emode.com to find out what city matches your style, who you were in a past life, or even learn more about your subconscious self.

2007-06-28T01:42:00.000-04:00

So... I'm out in Illinois, and I thought to myself.... I miss blogging. And the truth is, most of the time I don't miss it. Most of the time I keep myself busy enough to forget the part of me that ever found blogging "fun". But Illinois is no Connecticut or Massachusetts. Illinois begs people to blog, and I'll tell you why.

In New England there are a thousand temptations to keep one from accessing the computer other than to do work or check facebook. There, people lead busy lives where 20 minutes of downtime is 19 minutes too many. Personally, I could find a million ways to waste my time when I'm in zipcode 06477 or 02766. There are friends living only a lower campus away from you, 817 dvds to watch, 818 parties to attend, 7 nights a week to break into the dance studio and NYC is my next door neighbor with all of its excitement shooting up and down 7th Ave. Then you get to 61820.... Champaign, IL.... where there's corn.

I won't lie, it's better than I imagined. The small town I'm in (though it's actually a city and just feels like a small town) is rather cute. There's Green Street one block down from my apartment which has restaurants and shops and cute brick roads... the small part of this huge campus that I've seen is gorgeous and totally puts the Dimple to shame... there's the threat of a tornado appearing on any given day (and we all know it's my life long dream to see a tornado in person)... it's 800x less humid than CT in the summer... on the surface it's a pretty decent place. But if you leave my little 1/2 mile radius you get your stereotypical Midwest miles upon miles of corn and farmland. But I don't really care about that because I have no reason to wander further than a 1/2 mile from my apartment. Here's the real downer about being out here...

I have too much free time to know what to do with myself. The only thing worse than a lot of free time is its associated "slow pace" mentality. There's no rush, no excitement. Everyone out here seems to be the easy going, relaxed, "slow down and smell the roses" type. I need to be constantly on the go to not be bored... I need to feel like I have 80 things to get done when I know I only have time for 30 of them. My life on the third floor of an apartment complex on Bash Court is a far, far cry from the world I'm comfortable in. I have read 5 books in the past 2 weeks I've been out here... and I'm not a reader. I've taken to taking naps in the afternoon because I don't know what else to do with myself. At the rate I'm going with choreographing every day to keep myself busy I'll have 7 dances done by the end of the summer. My roommates are also in the math REU so it's nice living with other math nerds... we've decorated our living room walls with over 60 drawings we've done that use the 4 color theorem. It's great fun, but something I shouldn't have so much time to be doing. There's only so many afternoons I can spend on the quad, reading... so many nights I can spend coloring with four crayons. I know... I should cherish the down time that summer provides... my last summer before I hit the real world.... and I know it sounds contradictory, but downtime is no good unless you have something to do with it, friends to share it with. And I've never been lonelier out here.

My roommates are great. We bond over coloring and baking cookies (or eating cookies that just one of them baked). Every week we go to a different restaurant together and I'm inducting them into the world of I Love Lucy. But I need my boy... I need my Wheaton friends... I need my family... I need something TO DO with my summer.

I'm supposed to be doing math. Math research. Evolutionary Game Theory and Social Networks. ... and I do... do it. But we meet for 2 hours a day and then have reading to do... it's not very time consuming. We're starting to work on some individual research now, but it's still incredibly relaxed, "take your time" kinda "slow down and let it span out over the entire 8 weeks" sort of thing. I guess I have learned a lot... both about evolutionary game theory and the fact that I don't enjoy math research and don't want to do it again. But overall I'm less than loving my time out here. Everyone in my group is naturally brilliant and I feel like the ugly duckling.... or the equivalent of that like when dealing with geniuses and the one town idiot.

It will all be fine in the end... I'll write my research paper in TeX and be proud of my work and happy I went through the experience. 10 years from now I'll look back on that summer I lived in Champaign and think of what a great little town it was. I'll remember what fun it was to live with two girls as enthusiastic about math as me and laugh at how lame we were with our dozens of 4 color theorem drawings. But right now all I care about is the money I'm getting to do this. And right now the only theorem I've developed is this: the higher the first digit of a town's zip code, the more boring of a place it is to live. And right now I can't wait to go out to San Jose so I can see Rachel and then head home... and we know that's saying a lot if in San Jose I have to present at a conference. Oh life.

2006-03-20T19:41:00.000-05:00

I took myself a half year vacation from blogging simply because, well.... i wasn't inspired. blog topics used to just come to me.... I'd be eating ramen or shampooing my hair and some random thought would pop into my head and i'd just think to myself "wow, that would make a great blog"; and thus a new blog post was born. but lately, i've had no such luck. it got to the point where i was sitting around during boring lectures in music class, thinking of possible blog ideas... and anything that needs to be thought about isn't genuine. thus my blog would be filled with insincere, unnatural, careless words. which i don't stand for. but today my friends, for the first time in nearly 6 months, i found myself once again thinking "wow, that would make a great blog". and this is where our story begins.

I subscribe to like 7 magazines... not by choice, i really only enjoy 1 of them, but the rest were mad cheap and i thought i'd try them out. anyways, i was reading a rather interesting article in Glamour earlier today and I learned that i have a serious problem. Glamour informed me that i am somnorexic. i fit every key characterestic found on the "somnorexia checklist". Basically, I sleep less than 7 hours a night during the week and then crash and sleep for 10+ hours on the weekends. Who knew this had a name? I mean this was a 5 hr. per weekday, 14 hr. per weekendnight sleeper here reading this... I was concerned! Apparently it's a legit and "very serious sleep disorder" that is a "detriment to your health and wreaks havoc in people's lives". Anyways... so I decide to look up more about this so called somnorexia and see if it's as legit as Glamour claims. What did I discover? Not only that somnorexia is an actual medical term commonly used, but I also learned that I have about 17 different "conditions"... and that's only of the conditions I found at one website. And I also learned that they over-categorize and name everything nowadays.... guarantee you have at least 10 problems you weren't aware of.

Before today I thought I just had some social anxiety and depression, but during the day I acquired 14 new clinical conditions. Yes, tonight i'm going to go to sleep knowing that besides being depressed and social anxiety-like, i'm also somnorexic, atelophobic, atychiphobic, mildly cainophobic as well as mildy enosiophobic, half doxophobic, glossiphobic, kakorrhaphiophobic, hydrophobic, katagelophobic, slighty scopophobic, sometimes i think telephonophobic, highly tomophobic and lastly topophobic. Just call me your deranged-with-16-conditions friend. I'm not going to go into detail about what each of those things mean but I can assure you that I am every one of those to some degree... look them up if you're that curious. Some of you may say after all that that I should add hypochondriac to the list...

So I have many problems. This is new to me. I know I have weaknesses and fears and such but they all have names?!?!?! I've determined that they go a bit overboard nowadays in terms of categorizing "conditions" and declaring people "somnorexic" or something of that nature. I mean, some of the things out there are ridiculous. You won't believe some of what I found. If you get angry, even over little things, more than 3 times a week you've got some condition with some long-medical sounding name. If you're often bored it's something else, if you're often indecisive you should "talk to your doctor because this is a serious condition which often needs medicinal help". Perfectionism is a personality disorder, risk taking is viewed as a PSYCHOLOGICAL disorder, workahaulism is viewed to be as bad by some professionals as alcoholism. I mean... this stuff is really out there. What ever happened to just like, depressed, bipolar, anorexic or bulemic? It's like every personality trait out there that isn't "ideal" is given a label and tagged as a medical problem. What seems even sillier is all the phobias that are out there with names. But what's really sad to me is that because they have names, that means people out there do have these things... and extreme versions of them. I mean just imagine....

If you're bibliophobic you're afraid of books, papyrophobic you're afraid of paper. I mean, books and paper are pretty common things in this world. Can you imagine legitimately being terrified of paper? How would you survive anything? Really!!! Think about it; paper's everywhere! There are also those who are graphophobic and terrified of writing and handwriting. That's gotta be pretty difficult too. I really feel bad though for those optophobic folks or people with euphobia. If you're optophobic you're afraid of opening your eyes... what a horrible thing to pick being scared of. Do they walk around with their eyes closed all day? What can they imagine would be there if they open them? What is the saddest one to me though is euphobia... being afraid of getting good news. Doesn't that sound contradictory? It's like... I'm walking around at work today and I'm absolutely terrified that someone may be the bearer of good news. What is there to look forward to in life? Then there's the really abstract phobias like the fear of opinions (allodoxaphobia), fear of ideas (ideophobia), fear of memories (mnemophobia), and fear of thinking (phronemophobia). I don't think I even understand these... how are you afraid of opinions or thinking? Don't we automatically as intelligent homo-sapiens have opinions and thoughts? I'm not even going to touch those four because the more I think about them the more confused I get...

There's of course the generic phobophobia, a fear of phobias themselves. I think the cruelest one though is sesquipedalophobia, the fear of long words. Who on earth would decide to name a phobia of long words something with 2 letters short of 20 letters? That's just mean. By the way, just to let you know.... if you have an intense fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth you have arachibutyrophobia and they claim that a spoonful of peanutbutter twice a day will help cure the problem. On the other hand, if you're a huge math nerd like me... or maybe an art geek too, you may be asymmetriphobic, that's right, having a fear of asymmetrical things. I mean those isoceles triangles are pretty terrifying... I just wish they were all equilateral. And I'd be careful because although your recluse, elderly next-door neighbor was once a teenager, he may be ephebiphobic and have an erratic fear of teenagers. They say that some people are apparently cacophobic and have a fear of ugliness though I'd just call that a tweaked version of being stuck-up where they want to give their conceitedness a more positive name so they say they have some condition.... stuck-up-ness reminds me of middleschool and middleschool reminds me of warheads, that's right the hard candy. If you never got into the Warhead candy craze in middleschool and seemed irrationally terrified by the thought of eating one, don't worry... you probably are just acerophobic and have a fear of sourness. If you ever meet someone who seems to prefer the right side of their body and avoids looking at or touching the left side of anyone elses body please be sensitive to this seemingly irrational behavior, they're just levophobic and have a fear of things to the left side of the body. Although someone with asymmetriphobia wouldn't understand this because the body is symmetrical after all....

A few of these fears reminded me of some scary movies. And I'm not talking about like, phasmophobia, the fear of ghosts or anything like that. I'm talking like... paraskavedekatriaphobia, or the intense fear of Friday the 13th, which consequently also wins the award for being the longest titled phobia. Also, because of a certain movie I can say that for like a 2 week period I once legitametly had a case of eisoptrophobia, a fear of mirrors or of seeing oneself in a mirror and I still am scared by mirrors though I wouldn't go so far as to call it a phobia. I don't need another phobia anyways.... 16's enough.

Bottom line, there's a phobia for everyone. If you're afraid of candles, even when unlit, I'm sure there's a name for that condition. I mean if there's such a thing as pteronophobia, the fear of being tickled by feathers and Francophobia, the fear of French culture, I'm SURE there's a name for being afraid of candles or headphones, or tinfoil or anything you can imagine. So don't be ashamed to admit the clinical conditions you have. Nothing's more ridiculous than being patroiophobic.

2005-10-14T17:41:00.000-04:00

I know... it's a shock. A new blog. As I sit here wondering what the best way is to waste the next 45 minutes or so before dinner I contemplated many options. Read a magazine? Finish my book? Homework? Game online? Download more music? Facebook? Myspace? And then I thought to myself... hmmm it's definitely been awhile since I blogged. And that was that. The decision was made. I commited the next 45 minutes of my life to blogging and thus this post began. The spark of creation.

Now, since I was in this contemplative mood I thought I'd contemplate some more... what to write about? I could just fill you in on the last few months of my life... which I'll probably summarize in a latter paragraph though there are no promises... actually I probably won't summarize it... it would be too long of a summary to be considered a summary... more like an... ehhh, I'm stuck, I don't what it would be more like... just a too long summary. Or I could explain my thoughts on some random occurance that happened to me... but then I'd have to think of one good enough to share. I could talk about things that annoy me, like colored contacts for instance... I'm always up for complaining. I could of course make up a story too, which, if I did, would certainly start with "Once upon a time in a land far, far away..." and then gradually become less cliche. I could... ehhh that's enough. Summarizing this last paragraph, my options for topics were abundant and yet I could not reach a conclusion. So, as I always seem to be doing nowadays, I decided just to start writing and see what came out... and then I crossed a bridge I didn't know I crossed until I crossed. And that may sound confusing but it's quoted (more or less) from a much better writer than me and so I will leave it in because he's famous, I'm not, so it must be good, and I like to plagarize people who write good... errr, well... I've quoted the same writer dude twice already. Anyways... what was I saying? Oh yeah, the bridge bit. So, translation of the confusing bridge metaphor... it hit me what I should write about when I started writing and I didn't realize it hit me until umm... after it hit me? Okay, maybe that wasn't less confusing. I give up. I'm a math major I don't need to write good... err, well.

And, again, as always is the case, I don't get started on my actual topic until I've already written 5.5 hundred sentences. No use wasting more words on that though, let's get to the topic of choice. Wasting time. I'm not going to get all philosophical here, becuase if you remember, it is my goal to graduate Wheaton without ever having to take a philosophy course, but why do we consider little activities we do as a waste of time? You may "waste time" by going online... but face it, you WANT to be online during that time. If not, you'd be doing something else. We should never waste time... but always be doing something we want to be doing... even if it's just sitting down relaxing, or doing work so you don't have to stress about it later (weaker example I know, but I had to throw it in there so as to avoid anomalies... idk what that word even means... I don't think it makes sense here but that's okay). Wait... this isn't even where I wanted to go with this. Scratch this paragraph.

What I really wanted to talk about was how much people really DO waste their time by going on facebook and myspace... the two hotspots for college students. Now remember, any dissing I do here is totally fair because I am 100% one of these people who spends too much time on myspace and facebook.... I'm admitting my faults. Now that that's over I can continue. If you think about it, both programs are absolutely absurd. If you're one of the select few remaining people left who know not about myspace and facebook I shall write up a brief summary of them for you. They're these programs where you type all this silly information about you like your favorite movies, books, interests, etc. etc. and of course, pictures. If you don't include pictures you basically broke the first rule of facebook etiquette and are condemned to having a question mark as your picture. Rules you say? Oh there are definite, unspoken rules. Let's stay with the pictures for a moment. You can't include any pictures of you with your friends because it's impossible for new people to know which one is you... it's especially unacceptable if your friends are hotter than you. This is misleading. Staying with the hotness factor, you should only put in pictures that make you look at least 8 times more attractive than you really are... you will be more popular online. It is also a cardinal rule to change your photo rather frequently so as to avoid boredom and to encourage your friends to check out your profile to see if you made any other changes. Perhaps the largest rule though is that if someone leaves you a comment, you need to comment back or else they will hold a grudge against you until you do. It is perfectly acceptable to have 379 friends at your school even if you've never met them all... the number is what's important. And by the way, "poking" is soooooo 2004. I could go on and on with these rules here, but it's better to learn them through experience.

How many hours do we waste on these sites? Editing them, looking up our friends, commenting, hating "friends" for not commenting to us, checking out new groups to join, who likes the same music as you... the list is endless of what we come up with to waste our time on these sites. I mean it's virtually an online yearbook, complete with "signatures" which accurately measure how popular we are in comparison to our classmates. It's funny how much time we spend on these two sites... and almost everyone agrees. Yet, here we are, addicted to myspace and facebook. Always wanting to add more friends, post more comments, change your "about me" section, and check out how "popular" your friends are. I have no clever way to end this so this is going to be THE MOST abrupt ending I've ever had yet. I know you're waiting for a conclusion to tie it all together, but frankly my 45 minutes are up and I'm done writing.

2005-08-15T02:26:00.000-04:00

So... I'm sitting here at 2:25 a.m. on a late Sunday night slash early Monday morning. Why, you ask? Do not worry. Of course, I will tell you. I'm not the type of person to type a "why" question and then not give you the answer. That is, unless, of course, I'm being rhetorical, which by the way is a difficult word for me to spell... especially, when it is, what...now 2:29 in the late night slash early morning (and did you think that was too many commas because I think so). Now where was I before I began that long run-on sentence? Ah yes... the answer to why I am sitting here at this late hour. Well... here it is my friends. I'm having some trouble sleeping and instead of waiting it out in bed, trying to convince myself that I'll fall asleep within the next 5 minutes, I decided to get up and blog. Why now? I have no idea. I don't even have a topic in mind. I am topic-less. I have nothing. A dry well. An empty present. Now I'm just talking silly and it is clear that I am very tired. At least dry well is an expression... or did I make that up too? But empty present?... definitely haven't heard that one before. I'm going to incorporate that into my daily speech... although I'm not sure how it should be used. Okay, forget that idea.

I'm going to try my best to stop rambling now and actually say something. What could I talk about? What are you interested in? What do you all want to hear about? I've been super sick for the past week... ehh, you don't want to hear about that. (See look... I'm reading your minds! I have that supernatural ability... bet you never knew that) Hmm... maybe that will interest you... other things I bet you don't know about me. Random things. Yes, I know I tend to be random anyways, but this topic could be fun. Let me explore and see where it leads me.....

Hmm... I bet none of you know that when I was younger I used to go into the woods and sweep (not rake... sweep) all the leaves away at this certain spot... and I'd carve at this dead tree with a plastic knife, determined to make it all the way through to the other side. I wanted to make it like my little secret spot in the woods. I'd go there all the time and sweep the leaves away... and I always hoped that when I came back the leaves would still be cleared and the wind wouldn't have moved them around. Okay, so I was naive... but I bet none of you knew I did that! Sorry... that one was kind of boring. But I like this whole child memory thing... I'm gunna roll with that.

I used to make cakes just to have a food fight. I'd put towels on the floor to avoid making a mess of the house. Don't know if my parents ever knew about that actually... probably not, or they would have been mad about my wasting food. What else.... I've only been in a hospital twice and they were both when I was a baby. One time was when I was just a few months... I had a super high fever or something and they had to give me a shot. Right, so that was a boring reason to be in a hospital. And the other time was because I ran into a radiator. That's right... picture little baby Trisha running and then going straight into a radiator and splitting her head open. I had to get stitches on my forehead and that's the only scar I have. I have fun imagining this one... I just can't imagine running into a radiator hard enough to do that to myself.

Okay, this whole blog thing isn't turning out nearly as fun and exciting and interesting as I was hoping. So far all I got is sweeping, cake, and a radiator. And now I'm thinking about psychology. I warned you I was random.... though this isn't as random as you may think, considering what I just said. My psychology thinking has to do with early memories and why we remember what we do. Isn't it funny when you think back? Picture your earliest memories. Are they really random things that seem to have no significance whatsoever? Because mine definitely are. I mean, I have just a few really early memories... I'm talking from like before age 5 because from 5 on I can remember quite a bit. The earliest I can remember anything is from preschool and I have 3 memories from then. I swear... they are THE most random things ever for me to remember. One is of me lying down on a piece of paper being traced at preschool... like for me to color "myself" in later. I just have this clear image of staring up at the wall, trying to lie still. Does this fit the criteria to be considered random? Yes. Here's another. I remember seeing a girl in my preschool class at Chilis. I didn't know her name and we didn't even wave to each other, nevermind say anything. Yet, I remember which restaurant it was and I can see her face in my mind... she was holding her mom's hand. And the last preschool memory I have is from when I was at a friend's house. Her mom was talking to my mom. And this will sound crazy but I swear, I remember this sooo well. My friend's mom was saying how she was worried because they only have one bathroom in the house and what would they do if any two people in the family are sick at the same time? I don't remember what they were talking about before that statement or after it but I remember the statement itself very well. I was playing with my friend's dollhouse on a turn-table at the time when it was said. Ummm.... question mark!!!! How random are those memories? I don't remember feeling extra emotional in any way at those times... happy, confused, or anything. And yet, I remember them so well. Why on earth are those the only memories I have from before kindergarten? Please tell me your early memories are just as random and I'll feel a bit more comforted.

Wow... my blog kinda went from nowhere, to somewhere boring, to somewhere that's about as thought-provoking as I can get at 3:09 in the morning. And this conclusion is going somewhere great too. And I have the strange feeling that if I go to try to fall asleep again now I won't be able to... even though I can barely remember the last word I typed I'm so tired and even though I kinda already forgot what I'm talking about in this sentence. And the fact that I just actually typed talking as tlkaing first and then fixed it I think kinda proves something that I'm trying to prove here... though I'm not sure what it is. Ummm... I'm tired. yeah. I think I'm gunna try that sleep thing again. Hope it works out.

2005-07-11T16:57:00.000-04:00

I don't know how many of you ever check out my full profile in here... but it's just about my favorite part of the whole blogger website. Not all the boring, usual questions that ask me to list my "favorite movies" and "interests"... but the part down at the bottom that says "random question". This is the part I love and I think it should be at the top in bold and italics and bright colors to make it super stand out because it is that brilliant. If you know me at all, you know I am a fan of random questions... the more random the better... for I am a rather random person once one gets to know me. In case thou never checkeths my full profile, I hath decided to includeth my favoritest "random questions" here for your reading pleasure- umm... ith. AND furthermore, since this is my blog, I decided to type them here in bold and italics and bright colors to make them super stand out because they are that brilliant.

Random question 1: You have to dig a hole to China. Where do you start? Random answer 1: Preferably China... then I won't have a long way to go.

Random question 2: If mud is dirt plus water, what is clay? Random answer 2: If mud is dirt plus water, clay is clearly dirt plus water plus gray food coloring.

Random question 3: If you were a wrestler, what would be your finishing move? Random answer 3: It's a tough choice but I'd have to say the standing moonsault and just to show off I'd add in a stinger splash!

Random question 4: Whoops! Your tongue is now a magnet. Whatever will you use for silverware? Random answer 4: Uhh, plastic... duh!!!

Random question 5: The hair from your last haircut ... what would it say about your new style? Random answer 5: I could go the cheesy route and have it say something like "ahh you betrayed me" or I could have it tell the truth and say "you look pretty darn hot" ; )

Random question 6: All of the phone numbers have fallen out of your address book. Whose number do you look for first and why? Random answer 6: Who actually has address books anymore when cellphones hold like 600 numbers? But I'll play the game... Petey P's Pizza because I never know when I'll be hungry.

Random question 7: The first time you had your shoes taken off - how surprised were you to see that you still had toes? Random answer 7: I don't know about the first time, but it happened to me last night and boy was it a shocker!

Random question 8: Which is easier to make a model airplane out of and why: a banana peel or a wet sock? Random answer 8: I actually contemplated this for a good 7 seconds or so before answering and I think I came up with a rather correct response... it would depend what the sock were wet from... if it were wet from water I'd opt for the banana peel because you could at least knot and tie it's different sections... but the sock could be wet with starch and glue which would be easier to work with once it dried off a bit.

Random question 9: What was the stage name of your favorite actress before she was born? Random answer 9: Kiapheone McCormac.

Random question 10: What kind of tape is best for creating a sculpture? Random answer 10: Double sided tape is a miracle rolled on a ring.

Random question 11: You've written a hit musical! How will you avoid having fame go to your head? Random answer 11: The writers never get any credit compared to the stars so it won't be a problem.

Random question 12: If you were a pirate, how would you avoid laughing when saying "poop deck"? Random answer 12: If I were a pirate I suppose "poop deck" wouldn't be very funny... I mean, do you EVER see a pirate burst out in giggles?

Random question 13: What spells can you cast with magic markers? Random answer 13: A spell that will completely ruin your white walls and beige carpet.

Random question 14: Which is more important to you and why: flexibility or expandability? Random answer 14: Don't those words mean the same thing more or less... in my non-english major mind at least? I'd have to say expandability is more important because it's a longer word and longer words sound more important and impressive. Then again, is expandability even a word???

Random question 15: Why does the color blue mean raspberry-flavored? Random answer 15: Everything else was taken... yellow= lemon. Orange= well. orange. Purple= grape. Red= strawberry, watermelon, cherry. Green= apple. Blue= raspberry. Let me tell you something, green only equals apple because there were already three reds handed out... a fourth one would be too insane. When people decided that raspberries were loved enough to make into a flavor they couldn't give raspberry to red when they had denied apple that privilege... so they put yet another red fruit with the last color of the rainbow (because indigo never really counted). Hence, blue because raspberry.

I stopped at 15 random questions mostly for your sake... I hope now though you will occasionally check out my full profile and read the best part of the blog. It is updated more frequently than my actual blog... mostly because random questions intrigue me!

2005-06-25T23:33:00.000-04:00

Nothing funny about this post... just sharing some fun times I've had with you. That is, I'm sharing with you some fun times I've had... not that it's YOU I've had the fun times with... got it? good. Continuing...

So... I've said about eight times before in my blog that I absolutely love NYC. (side note: aren't you proud that I didn't actually reread my fourty slash fifty past posts to see exactly how many times I said I love New York??? For me, that's a big accomplishment because I often do crazy things like that for "fun". For example, in my second or third to last blog I actually went to shoprite.com to check how many hotdogs are sold in a package when the real number wasn't at all needed for my story. I tend to over-research things in a highly nerdy fashion. And although I fully admit I am a math nerd who has calculated things one should never calculate for fun, I have never once tried to calculate the volume of my school... haha K+K. Okay, that whole side note thing got more out of hand than I had hoped....) As I was saying, I've said how much I love NY a bazillion times in my blogs... and this is another blog that kind of follows in that general nature.

So, a couple of weeks ago this friend of mine randomly asked me if I wanted to go into NY the next day to see a show. Of course, I never turn down an offer to go into the city... although I did at first but that's besides the point because I ended up going. Approximately 18 or so hours after that phone call I was on the train. We waited in the Rent lottery... and lost, as always is our luck with show lotteries even though the rent lottery had about twenty zillion less people than the Wicked one ever did. So, instead of getting $20 front row seats we got $40 mezzanine seats... all works out. Get this straight here... two weeks ago I went to see Rent and a mere eleven days later I'm back in the city seeing two more shows.... in one word, a-mazing.

Fastforward 11 days from when I saw Rent and subtract a good six hours and that's exactly when I was sitting in another theater in NY watching The Producers. Add those six hours back and I'm seeing Wicked. I could have died during that 11 day break and those 11 days would still have been the best 11 days of my life... not really, but I just love NY and musicals... as if it wasn't known. Three broadway shows in under two weeks... how many more ways shall I state it? I'll stop there for your sake. So yeah, none of the shows were completely new to me... I've seen Rent and Wicked before and I've read The Producers script. Needless to say, they were all good. In The Producers there were a good five or so moments of improv which were hysterical and the show is hysterical on its own, so that was just a hysterical time... hysterical... had to say it once more. And in Wicked I actually got Ben Vereen's autograph before his five bodyguards pushed him away... if you don't know him then shame on you because I absolutely love him.... sigh. I now have two Wicked playbills, one signed by Idina and one by Benny V. ... what more could I want? Maybe six more Wicked playbills from future performances I haven't yet gone to, but besides that really...

As of right now, I have no future trips to NYC planned... but I'm ready to pencil one or two more in before I'm off to school again... I just love it. Sorry this wasn't the slightest bit funny... but I had to share my extreme joy and love of the city.

2005-06-16T00:31:00.000-04:00

I'm a cowgirl

2005-05-26T22:29:00.000-04:00

Hmm... once again, I have little to say but I felt like writing... so I'm just gonna start this here post with whatever comes to mind and see what happens. I may end up just completely deleting this if it's no good... but if that happens you wouldn't be reading this now so..... riiiiiiiighttttttt..... don't know where I was going with that sentence exactly.... so I'll just awkwardly end it now, in the uncomfortable state it's in.

Summer's here. At least for people like me... in college that is. Not people like me as in people who begin writing blogs with nothing to say or something like that. Anyways, for all you highschoolers out there... you have to suffer another month or so... unless you're one of those private school "a la" Lauralton people who get out in May. Right.... like I was saying, it's summer. If you're a college student all summer means is you're back to curfews, you need to get a job, and you're forced to live hundreds of miles away from your "real home" where you now reside for 9 months of the year.... yes, you leave your friends and go back to "friends" you haven't talked to in a year other than a few "hi, how are you"s and "that's cool... sooo.... talk to you later?"s on AIM. Sigh. You know it to be true... this is why you are sighing with me. Just to clarify however, not all old highschool friends become "friends".... just most of them ;) I wanted to make sure I made that clear before I got a few phone calls slash angry IMs from my CT "ahem" friends.

For you current highschoolers slash seniors graduating this year, let me share with you some solid advice from a freshman year college survivor. First, about this whole "summer" business... you will come to learn that when you are away at school, you wish to be home. No school work, no classes to contemplate skipping, no realizing you can't buy those cheetos you've been desperately craving because you spent your last 75 cents on laundry.... when at school, you wish for home. But, there's a big but. When you're home, you desperately wish for school.... no cleaning your room unless you feel like it, only needing to walk across the hall to see your friends instead of having to drive across town, no cleaning your room unless you feel like it, and virtually no rules. Although it may seem like a lose-lose situation, it's so much better than high school. And your "home" becomes better than your home.... if you understand what I'm saying. And if you don't.... you're obviously still a highschooler... spend a year away at college and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Okay, that wasn't really "advice" there was it? It was more so what to expect. Here's some more "what to expect"ers. First.... bathroom related. You WILL have a shower stall that you call your own and even if the others are empty and yours is taken you will wait for yours to be free, rather than use another shower.... or at least seriously contemplate waiting. You will soon realize that it's not unusual to see four feet in the shower stall next to you. If you have co-ed bathrooms like my school, you will get over this much faster than you think... basically once a guy walks by in a towel. Again, on the same "if" as the previous sentence, you will forget that bathrooms in public places are not co-ed and you will go into the guys bathroom if the girl's is taken... and you will be awkwardly caught at least once. Haha... remind me to tell you a funny story about that in a future blog. And finally, you will have to get over the fact that everyone poops and it's not worth sitting in the stall waiting until everyone else in the bathroom leaves.

Now, on to the laundry related... yes, this is deserving of a category all it's own. You will, at least once, wear jeans for 13 days in a row without washing them, before realizing it's almost been two weeks... so then you check how much clean underwear you have left to decide if you should throw the jeans in the dirty wash and actually do laundry this weekend. You will most definitely celebrate whenever you find a quarter. You will have a pile of dirty clothes, a pile of once-used but not quite dirty clothes, and a pile of clothes used more than once but that you could use a couple more times without smelling too bad.

And the food??? Your breakfast will often consist of a Coke on the way to class. You will be grateful that the dining hall labels the food. Whenever you have a couple of spare dollars you check to see if anyone's willing to drive you to a Taco Bell or a Subway. By the end of the year you will probably have Domino's phone number memorized. Two meals a day is pretty much standard.

Classes... it won't phase you if a student walks into a class drunk, even if it's a 9:30 a.m. class. You will not know the names of well over half the people in your classes. Ten page papers used to sound impossible, now they're a godsend. You don't do homework you study. You can write in your textbook and not put a cover on it without getting yelled at. You will think $90 for a book is a fair price and will celebrate when you bring it back at the end of the semester, barely used, and get $6.50 in return. You will set your alarm in the morning for 8:52 to get to your 9:00 class, suddenly only 8 minutes are needed to get ready instead of an hour and a half like in high school. P.S.... about that 9:00 class there, you will realize that any class before 12:30 often gets slept through slash skipped due to sleep.

And the one everyone loves.... the social life... maybe that's an inadequate title here... let's just call it "fun". More often than not you will show up to a house party only to leave 15 minutes later because the keg has already been emptied, or it's so crowded you can't even see the front door. Related to that, parties are EXACTLY like they appear in the movies even though you thought they didn't really happen like that. Going to the library will be a social event. You will walk to check your mailbox two or three times a day for fun, and if you get a package then forget it, it's a time to celebrate!!! You will probably even pre-game on nights when the only place you go is to a free movie on campus. You will rediscover afternoon naps, and yes, an afternoon with a nap is considered a fun afternoon.

That's about all the "what to expect"ers I have for you. You may not experience all of the above. But I can promise you that one of your friends you make at college will experience the ones you don't. They're unavoidable. If you're already a returnee from college, please let me know if I have left something important out, or if (though very unlikely) you can not relate to my above situations. If this is the case I will add and delete items as I see fit. But really, I'm just kidding... I'm not going to change anything. And again, even if I did, you as the reader wouldn't know I did unless I told you which I'm not going to.... and I'm not sure how to end this sentence again sooooo it's ending.

2005-04-25T23:30:00.000-04:00

Okay, I realize it's been more than awhile since my last post. But a lot has been going on and I haven't had the time to think up any creative-yet-somewhat-true stories to share with you all. Forgive me, for I have returned.

First of all I just have to celebrate that I got a sweet suite in Keefe next year with some of my favorite Wheaton girls: Amy (my oh so cool future roomie), Sarah, Genna, Esther and Meg!!! Forever Young is our winning theme... don't ask what it means, it's just too complicated for my fingers' liking to type out for you all. Basically, we got a suite because we said we're going to act like kids and fingerpaint and stuff... sort of, not entirely our plan, but true enough for the case of this blog. If I can get a spot in one of the oh-so-competitive-to-get-into suites on campus just by saying I'm going to fingerpaint for the Wheaton community, then I must be Mel Gibson's son.... which I'm clearly not.... so there's more to it than fingerpainting. Now that I mention it though, I wonder where he lives off campus.... hmm....

Speaking of wondering, I've been wondering a lot lately. More crazy, stupid questions to collect in Trisha's not yet existent book entitled "Random Things You Unconciously Have Wondered All Your Life But Never Thought of Asking Until Now". I must give credit where it's due. Not all of the questions I will tell you about have been thought of or even researched by me. But they have all indeed struck my curiousity in ways that are inexplicable slash unexplainable... whichever you think sounds smarter. Nonetheless, I will be inserting in-text citations in the proper MLA format when necessary.... that is, I will give credit to the people who thought up the questions, but there's no way I'm actually going to cite where I got the answers... not like those random websites care anyways, the only people I'll hear from who "care" are those who thought up these questions and then yell at me that I stole their idea and published it in my blog. Moving on...

Though probably the weakest of all my thought provoking questions, it is the one that struck me first and opened my mind to the world of random questioning. While in the bathroom of the lovely Meadows East 3rd dormitory, I went to grab my toothbrush and proceeded to brush my teeth. I noticed that, yet again, my toothbrush holder was slightly ajar, exposing about four millimeters of my blue (or is it red?) toothbrush. This got me wondering, why don't they make toothbrush holders the right size to actually hold a toothbrush? You may think I'm crazy if you have not had this experience. Perhaps you have only used a toothbrush holder while vacationing, at which time you may have also used a TRAVEL-SIZED toothbrush, which works out quite nicely. But in the big boy world of toothbrushes, these toothbrush holders don't cut it. They're too small. It should be a one size fits all kinda thing, not a one size fits most!!! This has been a thorn in my thumb, or whatever that crazy expression is, for this whole year. Yes, it's kind of like the timeless "why do they sell hotdogs in packages of 8 and hotdog buns in packages of 12" question... but I bet you haven't heard the toothbrush holder one before! Just as a side note, when I went to shoprite.com to verify the correct number of hotdogs vs. buns that are sold in a package, I noticed that supermarket industry hotdog sellers got tired of this age-old question and started packaging both hotdogs AND their buns in packages of 8! Learn something new every day.... oh yes, and the credit here all goes to me (Carr, "Toothbrush").

Next question was raised, and researched by Miss Amy Lizbeth Breckenridge. Where do hamsters come from? I mean, you never see a hamster crossing the road, or running around in the woods. What's up with that? Where do they live? The answer to this one my friends is actually kind of cool... at least I think so.... in a nerdy kind of way. Hamsters were first "discovered" in 1839 in the Syrian desert in the Middle East.... so that's like Asia or Africa or something. For awhile they were thought to be extinct, but in 1930 a scientist in Syria found a girl hamster and her 11 babies. Only four of the little hams lived!!! Every hamster today is descended from those four brothers and sisters.... try not to think of it as incest, it's much more pleasant that way. They were smuggled into England in 1932 in the pocket of an unnamed zoologist and brought to the United States in 1938. Someone thought these little, furry mice like things from Asia/Africa would make good pets and they started breeding them alot more. Hamsters are "once again" extinct in the wild... none have actually been seen in Syria since two were captured by a rodent control officer in the 1980’s. Word is that if you spot one in Syria and report it they'll give you some award... not money I don't think.... more like an honorary plaque or something. Tell me honestly that that isn't cool and I'd bet $10 you were lying. That's a fun little history/biology/zoology question there I think!!!! (Breckenridge, "Hamsters").

Okay here's another one... why is it that the hair on your head can grow to be very long but the rest of the hair on your body "knows" when to stop growing at a certain length? Brian thought up this mind boggling phenomenon and I looked up the answer to this question... the answer of which goes way over my non-biology orienented brain. But I'll give a shot at explaining it with as few biolographic terms as possible. Okay, so your body hair has these hair follicle things and they're programmed to stop growing every couple of months or so versus head hair follicles which are programmed to grow for years at a time. Then there's something about growth phases, and rest phases, and hair falling out. It all boils down to, your body knows. Basically, that's the only law of biology I'll ever need to know. Your body knows what it's doing. Case closed. Still an interesting question. If you're a biology person I recommend looking up the real answer... it's probably really interesting if you understand it. (Gonsalves, "Hair").

Okay, next question, courtesy of Kurt Adametz. With heart transplant surgery, during that amount of time when you're heartless (when they removed your actual heart and have not yet fully sewn in your new-from-another-person's-chest heart) are you technically dead? That is, if you're heartless, your heart obviously can't be beating, and a beating heart is what makes you alive (in my non-biology world at least), so do you kind of die and come back to life? It may sound silly, but I bet you're intrigued. I had some people assure me that there was no way around "temporarily dying"... that "of course" that's what happened during a heart transplant, and "how could I think otherwise?". But these people were making fun of me and just testing me to see how gullible I was. Here's some relief... you don't die. During surgery, a heart-lung machine takes over the functions of the heart and lungs, freeing the heart from its normal function so that it can be removed. The use of the machine allows the surgeon to carefully stop the heart while the vital organs continue to receive blood and oxygen. Simple answer I suppose. I'm glad to know that if I ever need a heart transplant I won't have to go through a temporary death. (Adametz, "Heart").

This last question I have not yet been able to find a direct answer to. So if you can help me out, please do. I was just wondering, how many chickens die naturally nowadays... I mean, so many seem to be killed for food... how many out there actually die a natural death? What I really want to know is what percentage of all chickens that are born actually end up dying naturally. Like I said, no direct answer. Whenever I typed "chickens amount killed food die naturally" into google I only got about 8 million animal rights sites. I now know however that animal activists are angered about animals used for not only food, but also dairy, animal testing, clothing, pet shops and entertainment. I kind of already knew this, but I didn't know it was these significant six that showed up everywhere... it was like a list of the ten commandments or something.... 1,2,3,4,5,6, bim bam boom... a paragraph dedicated to the exact same reasons why animal activists are angry on every site. It's like the official rules to being an activist or something. I'm sorry, it's not something to joke around about. I'm kind of ashamed, looking back. Not enough to erase it all, but ashamed nonetheless. More pertinent to my actual question however is that 9 billion chickens are killed each year in the U.S. for food. And the most I've been able to gather from any one website is that that number is by far "the majority of chickens born each year". 20 million are killed each day in the U.S. When thinking up this question, I didn't want to find all these gruesome details that make me feel guilty about not being a vegetarian.... I wanted to know how many die naturally... which can be a beautiful thing.... natural death. Certainly better than the destiny 9 billion American chickens fulfill each year. Before answering the question I would have thought billions still die naturally... now, after visiting all these awful sites, I swear to you I wouldn't be shocked if the number last year was seven. This one, again... all me. (Carr, "Vegetarianism").

Some fun questions, huh? Get you thinking??? Good! I'm glad!!! I'm glad to have inspired you all to find out what makes hair mousse so puffy, why the sky actually is blue, and why the gas tank is on the left side of some cars and the right side of others. I'm also glad to have taught you a thing or two. My real question now is, once it's published will you go out and buy "Random Things You Unconciously Have Wondered All Your Life But Never Thought of Asking Until Now"?

2005-02-06T17:06:00.000-05:00

I have some very sad news. I forgot to celebrate my one year anniversary of blogging on January 29th. I was going to write a very special post, commemorating this past year... but instead I was probably out with my dance friends having fun. So tragic.

So yes, I have now been blogging for over a year and I have a mere 44 posts, this being number 46. Wait, that doesn't make sense... erase that.... this being number 45. That's better. Sigh. What has become of my life during this past year? I graduated high school and have now completed my first semester at Wheaton, but what does it all mean.... what is the significance? I should take a philosophy class... I'm good at asking random, thought-provoking yet utterly pointless questions that I don't really care about answering. Actually, it's my goal to graduate Wheaton without ever having to take any philosophy class... I'd rather avoid the controversial topic of "the nature of reality" if I can help it.

The classes I actually am taking this semester are pretty cool. My prof for Calc II is Napoleon Dynamite and my Macro prof wears size 15 shoes. In French we're currently learning the alphabet and in my poetry writing class we're learning to "hear the words that live in silence". My psych class I have nothing fun to say about except that it's really cool and interesting and I actually have friends in that class. I should have a pretty easy semester... I don't have to write one paper in any of my classes and I'll only have 2 finals. Woot woot!

I've honestly spent more time on dance than I have on work lately. I had to come back to Wheaton two weeks early for the dance company. Each day was 8 hours of dancing and we learned like 4 new pieces and cleaned everything else up. Let me say that again because I don't think you fully comprehended what I just said. Each day was 8 hours of dancing... do you realize what that really means?!?!?! It was exhausting. Lately, we've been running our entire show like everyday which is just as tiring as preseason was. In one week we start onstage rehearsals and a week after that we have our performances and we're done for the year! Woot woot times two this time!

About the only good thing about preseason was that I became alot closer with my dance co. girls. We hung out quite a bit and now we'll spend the occasional weekend going out together. We've had some fun times!!! I'm glad that now I have two strong groups of friends up here... my original Young 1sters and the younger half of my dance co. girls. I don't feel like going through the whole friend introduction like I did with my Young 1st friends, so from now on just recognize these names as being my dance co. friends (along with their brief intros): Rachel (my fellow math nerd and supercool Texan friend), Stephanie (Young 3rder who I LOVE), Lauren (uppercampus dweller who's really funny), Amy (a friendly girl who lives in a basement and has pooping issues), Susan (a gebbie goddess who is super sweet), and Kurt (the guy who's not in the dance company but should be). Got it? Good! Moving on then....

I moved rooms too, now I'm in Meadows East... a much larger, noisier, non-wellness dorm on campus. It'll take some getting used to, but it isn't half bad. And I still (illegally) have my key to get into Young so I can go back and visit my friends there whenever I want. My new roommate is a sophomore from Florida. She seems cool but is barely ever in the room so I haven't really gotten to know her. I swear that the only times she is in the room is when she's dropping off more new dvds she just bought.... I swear that this girl is a living Blockbuster store.

Tonight's the superbowl. I won't be watching. I will be sitting in my room, doing my hw, secretly hoping that the Eagles win. Did I just say that, living in New England?!?!?!? I think I did!!! :0

2005-01-13T14:15:00.000-05:00

Saturday was my annual dance party. Always changing in its style, but always fun. When we were younger, this party consisted of swinging on hammocks while squirting people with water, riding down the stairs in sleeping bags, singing Big Spender 800 times during the night, wearing cups and other kitchen paper products as clothing, and calling male strippers. Now we are much more mature. Events have changed to playing telephone, trying to levitate people in chairs, writing in lipstick on windows, talking to turkeys, butt cherades, and playing truth or dare with ghosts (much to Catie's freaked-out-ness). They may not sound more mature... but the party in itself is much more mature than it was. The only constant thing that hasn't changed over the years is the writing game and my brother's brownies that he never fails to fail at making. One thing's for sure, it's always fun no matter how old we get.

This year was a good group of people. Almost everyone who normally comes was there, plus some new people who I love.... no one real young this year which probably accounts for why the party was so much more mature in its nature... as I proved in the previous paragraph. The movie this year was Identity, which I didn't like but could enjoy watching. You know the type I'm talking about. Identity is your typical horror movie... ten people get stranded together at this run-down hotel and they start getting killed off one by one. They should have just called it Your Typical Horror Movie. Okay, that was a bad joke... now I have to try to save myself throughout the rest of this blog... (I hate when I do that to myself!!!) There was a weird psychological twist though which was partially cool and partially ruined the movie for me. There were some valuable lessons hidden in the movie too. For instance, never worry about a convicted murderer... he's too obvious to be the killer. Also, when trying to figure out who the murderer is, always be suspicious of a little kid... especially if his mother and father both were killed... what better reason to kill someone than if they make you eat your vegetables? The best one though, which I will always carry with me, is this... whores don't get second chances. So don't become a whore... you won't get a second chance.

Jaime, Steph Smith, and I stayed up the whole night. An accomplishment that all sleepover-goers aim for. I am proud to say though that I am the champion. Not only was I up the whole night, but I stayed awake that entire day... until 1:00 that next morning. A straight 39 hours beat everyone's "I was awake from 7 that night until noon the next day". Ha! That's childish now compared to my feat of awakedness!!! Anyone care to challenge me next year? I dare you!!!

2005-01-05T13:50:00.000-05:00

I'm obsessed with the musical Wicked. In fact, it goes beyond mere obsession. I'd say I'm mildly addicted to it. For the past however many months I've listened to the cd on average 2.5 times a day, downloaded as many video clips as I could find, read the complete script, continuosly checked the Wicked forums and fan sites, and put favorite quotes in my profile. I had not, however, ever seen the show. Until yesterday. The day my life became complete...

I introduced Miss Kimberly Dolberg to the amazing musical that is Wicked several months ago. Since that day, she has only grown as obsessed with it as I am. For her 18th birthday she happened to recieve 2 tickets to see the performance during Idina Menzel's last week. Idina Menzel IS Wicked; she makes the show... I told her I would happily accompany her if she needed someone to go with. OMG! OMG! OMG! OMG!!!!!!!!!!!! I was quite excited.

The show itself was UNBELIEVABLE! I thought that knowing the entire script by heart would be a disadvantage for me and I wouldn't be able to appreciate alot of the "surprise" aspects of the show... including the jokes. I couldn't have been more wrong. How I read the script in my mind at home was sooooo different from how the actors portrayed the characters. It was exciting to watch and absolutely hilarious! The special effects were different from how I imagined them to be and the performers switched up how they sang alot of the songs too which kept me on the edge of my seat... something I didn't expect! I was so emotional that it was just.... well, disgusting. I've always thought those people who go to like a John Mayer concert or something and cry just from seeing him were ridiculous. But.... there I was.... in the Gershwin theater.... crying for no reason the minute the curtain opened. I was finally seeing what I had been obsessing over for so many months. It was unreal.

Let me make one thing clear before I go any further. When I say crying, I mean crying. I can't explain it. It was the most amazing feeling! I literally thought for a minute that during intermission some usher or somebody would come over to see if I was okay. I kept trying to control the tears throughout the whole show. Now that we understand the real meaning of "crying" I may continue.

All of the actors' performances were flawless. Idina literally sounds better live than on the cd which absolutely blew me away. That never happens with a performer. She was unbelievable! Jennifer Laura Thompson who plays Glinda was hilarious! I never saw Kristin Chenoweth (she originated the part) play the role, but I could tell just from listening to her portrayal on the CD that Jennifer made the role her own. She was totally different from how I expected Glinda to be and it worked beautifully! I could not stop laughing whenever she was onstage. Joey McIntyre was in it and he was way better than I expected. This was one case where bringing a pop singer into a musical to try to increase its ticket sales didn't ruin the show. He was actually really good and fit right into that broadway stage! It was really just unbelievable. I'd give anything to go back and see it again.

After hearing Idina and Jennifer prance around to "I like chocolate, I like cheese" we ran to the stagedoor to get autographs. Well... I didn't HEAR them prance around, but they were singing/laughing and kinda jumping around after the curtain call. Wickedly funny! Pun intended. While waiting for Idina to take all of her green makeup off, Kim and I stood around, sandwiched between 800 other fans. Some group of girls in front of us were beyond fans. They acted like they knew her. One of them had seen the show 11 times. Do you realize that's over $1000? Anyways, some little girl had a gift she had wrapped to give Idina and these girls were like "Oh, don't worry! She'll take your gift. She loves little kids. And Joby will open it for her... she always does!" Apparently Joby is Idina's personal assistant who handles threatening gifts from children that may be bombs in disguise. But these girls were rattling off all little things they knew about Idina, like her personal assistant's first name. I swear, I wouldn't have been surprised if they said that Idina uses their apartment to hide away from the fans and that they've had several sleepover bonding sessions complete with home movies and doritos. Ever since then I've felt very competitive about this "who know's Idina better" kinda thing. We wanted to be like... "oh yeah? What kind of toothpaste does she use? Don't know that one do ya? Huh? Huh?!?! HUH?!?!? .... It's Crest, so there!". And later on, when on the train, we saw someone else with a Wicked program and I swear I wanted to be like, "hmm... I notice you don't have any autographs. Well, I happen to have Joey Mac's, Jennifer's, and one of the twenty-out-of-800-one's that Idina actually signed! Jealous now, aren't ya?" I really am too big of a fan. Something is wrong.

I said to Kim that if they ever make a movie of it I will be in trouble. I think I would literally watch it every day. That's not healthy. Simply put, Wicked was insane. I have never been so totally absorbed in something for 3 hours before in my life. And... I've never cried that much out of sheer excitement before. And... I think last night was the first time my competitive side came out. And... I can't wait till I can go again! Woot woot for Wicked!!!!

2004-12-11T19:35:00.000-05:00

The topic of this here post is work. Not the study/take notes/do problems 1-32 kind of work that all college students can associate with. But my good old $7/hr. job in the admissions office. Two hours of work, 3 times a week is enough to make me go crazy. I know that's only 6 hours, but it's still 6 hours at a computer, typing in people's SAT scores over and over and over again. Then, I end up integrating "verbal" and "math" into my conversations for the next 2 days, at which point I go to work again and repeat the process. Trust me, it's enough to make me mad. My only "fun" at work is when I happen to find someone from Amity, which gets me way more excited than it should, or someone with an amazingly weird name that I can laugh at. So far Beauregard Goodnite wins. No joke. Real name. In order to retain my sanity, I listen to other people's conversations from the other room and routinely check my email every 15 minutes. Nothing too exciting. The most shocking thing I've seen is some lady who still uses a typewriter instead of a computer. I can't stand that clicking sound any more! Why use a typewriter??? I just don't understand. Stuck in the old-fashioned ways. So, as I said... nothing too exciting. Yesterday though I heard a story that got me thinking.....

So, some other student walks into the back room who had just given a tour. He starts rambling on about some kid in the tour who complained that he was "aesthetically allergic" to the dorm rooms. I'm sorry... but that is a physical incapability. You can't be aesthetically allergic to something unless you're.... ehh, couldn't think of anyone good enough..... so, nobody. But this got me thinking..... you know, what if this kid was a first? Then Wheaton should grab him! Sure, he'd have a hard time living on campus, but think of it..... Wheaton has the first human to ever be aesthetically allergic to something!!! That's insane! We could experiment on him and stuff, and see how it's possible. I mean, just imagine.....

First day of the semester, he walks into his new room and immediately starts sneezing. Let's just call him Beauregard. So, Beauregard starts sneezing. His roommate gives him a weird look. "Allergic to dust?", he asks. "No. I'm aesthetically allergic to the room", Beauregard replies. The roommate says "Oh! You're that kid! I'm so honored to be your roommate. You're the first of your kind you know.... we could party together and then I could be known as the "aesthetically allergic" kid's cool friend". Beauregard sneezes in response....

I mean, it's a perfect start. Too bad we won't be taking him. I heard the tour guide say something about the no admittance rule for aesthetically allergic people. It could have been really beautiful. It's a shame...

So you can imagine how bored I must have been at work to dream up this scene in my head. The moral of the story, don't work for data entry in an admissions office...... and....... don't name your kid Beauregard Goodnite....... and........ don't say your aesthetically allergic to something unless you mean it, because then everyone will make fun of you behind your back, and since it is, after all, a physical incapability, just don't say it at all. People will think you're weird.

2004-11-30T17:03:00.000-05:00

I have a new obsession... if you want to call it that. When I was back in CT I watched all 5 Star Wars movies with Brian. I had never seen them before and Brian wants me to see the 6th one with him in May so we rented them all. No, my new obsession isn't Star Wars... I'm going to keep you in suspense for awhile about what it really is. At this point only Brian knows my new obsession... well there's really two. I mention both of them in here, but you'll probably only catch one of them. I flat out state it later. Three gold coins to anyone who figures it out. Back to what I was saying though, I did enjoy the movies and I'll admit I got pretty into them. I had fun watching with Brian. I liked C3PO the most... mainly because he waddled like a penguin. Yoda was fun too. I kept telling Brian that I thought he sounded exactly like Fozzy from the muppets and then laughed when I found out it was the same guy who did their voices. Brian and I "argued" for a bit over Natalie Portman and which character she played... I eventually realized he was right... but I didn't let him know that of course! ;) Plus, now I want to have a cat and name it Palpy, and only Brian and I will know why! I love sharing secrets but not explaining what they mean online... so much fun! =) Here's another secret you won't understand... I want to hibernate! Since I'm in the sharing secret mood I'll let you in on one of my obsessions. I didn't fall in love with Luke Starkiller in the movie, but I did fall in love with the music. Whenever it was playing in the background I HAD to sing along, complete with composer-like arm movements... with the words being "da da da, dun dun dun, dun dun dun". I still have the songs stuck in my head. Ever since that I've been obsessed with movie music. Like, I saw Finding Neverland the other day (amazing movie by the way) and got sooo into the music. Then, when we were watching The Matrix in my FYS it was the music that impressed me, more so than the movie. Yea for movie soundtracks!!! This is the shortest blog I've written in a loooooong time... probably because I just blogged yesterday. This WAS going to be the topic of yesterday's blog before the blog decided to take control and head itself in another direction. Can you belive it? Two blogs in a row!!! I'm so proud.

2004-11-29T13:13:00.000-05:00

So my blogs have been diminishing in number.... as my faithful readers constantly remind me. If you notice, I've started the last 3 blogs or so with a very similar opening sentence to the one I just wrote. The topic is always how long it's been since my last blog. Do me a favor and let's just get over it. I'm at college and I have more to do than just sit at my laptop and type out little stories for you to read. Although I guarantee that if I fully "broke up" with blogger.com my addiction would force me to return in a month or two. I already tried giving up altogether and permanently stopping.... didn't work.

I just came back from Turkey Day break... a good 6 days off (thatwasonlysuppossedtobe5BUT... Iskippedaclassandleftadayearly) **stage note** read part in parentheses very quickly, as if one word, only pausing after the drawn out "BUT". I guess it would have been better if this came before the line I'm talking about. **fine**. Yup, one day short of a week in the town that I called home for fifteen years down in good old CT (note: that's C.T., pronounced "see tea", not "connecticut".... just because that's how I said it in my mind while I was typing and it's more amusing than just saying connecticut). Okay, I'll stop with the authors side-note-scribbles now, I promise. This time I really enjoyed being back home and wanted to stay longer.... versus October break where I was happy to come back to Wheaton. I wonder which one will win in the longrun as the "better" place to be. I could draw a comparison for you.... a rather, nontraditional one that is.....

Why nontraditional? I've got friends in CT, friends at Wheaton. A bed in CT, a bed at Wheaton. Poptarts for dinner in CT, poptarts for dinner at Wheaton. The traditional stuff is there wherever I am. It's the nontraditional stuff that's more fun to analyze rather than just saying Brian and Missy are in CT but freedom and dance are at Wheaton. Much more fun. So here's the real list....

1)At Wheaton I'm after quarters. I scrounge around like every other Wheatie.... waiting for my sixth sense to kick in whenever I'm within 20 feet of a loose quarter. It's like a radar system that every college kid who has to pay for laundry and vending machine munchies is equipped with. Much too lazy to walk to the bank and ask for a roll of quarters, we bargain to give friends a dollar bill for merely one of their precious quarters. We're careful to check they're not handing us any Canadian coins which the machines dutifully spit back at us. (How do the machines know the difference anyway?) Cheap kids we thought were our friends who try to jip us with their "counterfeit" money. Face it... at college, quarters are gold. You're lost without them. Or at least you're a hungry kid who has smelly clothes. It gets just about as crazy on campus when the change machine is broken as it did the day that Kerry lost to Bush. Now in CT do you think I would ever hand someone a dollar bill and only ask for a quarter back? Wouldn't happen. I live in Orange remember, where you need at least $600 to spend when you go to the mall or else you'd become the "poor kid" who only left with three bags of Abercrombie clothes instead of four. At college quarters are gold. In Orange, gold isn't even gold..... unless it's diamonds. ..... I confused myself.... nevermind.

2) At Wheaton my only "chore" is to do laundry. At home, pretty much my only chore is laundry too. The same chore can be so different depending on the location. I already mentioned the quarter situation. Conversely to what you may be thinking, the fact that I have to pay for laundry at Wheaton makes the task of getting it done at school easier. You see, if I'm doing laundry at school, then that means I've raked up enough quarters to actually get it done.... which is an accomplishment in itself. At this point, I'm so happy that I've managed to find $2.25 in quarters, that doing the laundry itself is a sort of perverted reward. Whereas at home the only reward is that I stop getting yelled at about it. Plus, at school I have to do it for myself so I don't start rewearing dirty clothes and become known as the smelly kid on campus. At home I have enough random clothes that I could probably get away with not doing my laundry for a good few months before running out of clean ones became an issue. The only reason I "have to" do it at home is because my mom tells me so. What kind of incentive is that?

3) While the outside weather only differs by a few degrees, the inside temperature of my home at Wheaton and my home in CT differ by a good... oh I'd say.... 70 degrees. A bit exagerrated? Yes. A lot exagerrated? No. My dorm room is directly above the boiler room. It's a constant 80something degrees in here. Tanktops and shorts are the norm, as well as four fans which haven't been shut off since the day of arrival. In CT my mom prefers not only to not turn on the heat, but also open all the windows to let in the cool 20 degree air. It requires layering to survive. You think I'm kidding....

4) homework in Wheaton, cable in CT

Well... this was a short list of the many comparisons I could make. I guess it comes down to whether I prefer quarters or dollars, laundry or laundry, heat or cold, and homework or cable. Hmm... somehow CT seems to have the benefit when I look at it like that. So I'll say I prefer heat and Wheaton's laundry to even it out. There's no place like home....

2004-11-15T08:48:00.000-05:00

Now that the secret's out I can add a revision to my last post. If you haven't read it yet, read it now.... I'll wait....

Now that you've read it, I would like to add that I got my bellybutton pierced in St. Marks Place, along with Amy's nose. Thank you.