Tuesday, February 26, 2002
Bitchin' Camero, bitchin' camero, Tony Orlando and Dawn. . .Can't have another blogless day, can't. Do. It. Have been slacking far too much of late, and not for any cool reason. Will blog now, though I've nothing to blog about, blog as though my life depended on it!Actually, there's been rather a lot going on but either I can't talk about it yet (those blood oaths are tricky to break) or it would just be incredibly boring written down. . .I mean, would anyone really want to read the searing details of my latest quilt-block completion? Yeah, I didn't think so. Had a read-through for my next theatrical project last night; this was a good thing, and I got some sewing done (guess I'll be working that in anyway, won't I?). It's an evening of 10-minute plays, which happens to be a favorite format of mine. So, I'm mostly optimistic about the whole thing, despite some misgivings along the lines of its taking itself too seriously.
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3:32 PM
Monday, February 25, 2002
Days may be cloudy or sunny. . .Yesterday it was 60 degrees outside and sunny; today it snows. Missouri: The Schizophrenic Weather State. Who this is good for: metereologists.I was walking through the company lobby (my former at-work home), in search of the vending machine and a PopTart or 2 (which always come in strawberry. . .apparently this is an ordinance of some kind), when I saw the cover of last week's issue of Time. It features a topless woman in profile with one arm covering her breasts. No, not Rolling Stone, Time. Really. Now, the cover story _was_ about detecting breast cancer and stuff, so I thought this blatent use of the "sex sells" maxim in a scientific context was quite wiley, in a completely non-subtle way, of the folk at Time-Warner. I'm still trying to decide whether I'm disappointed in them, disgusted with them, or flabbergasted with admiration at their sneakyness.
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1:46 PM
Thursday, February 21, 2002
My hair hurts. . .This has been the Week For Being Painfully Aware of Usually Ignored Bodily Functions. Yesterday being Oxygen Processing Day, led us to the very important question "Is it supposed to hurt when I breathe?" which was followed quickly by the astute "Does this mean something's really wrong?"Today seems so far to be Liquid Intake Day, as every single swallow (whether of saliva or lemon tea or, um, well whatever) brings intense agony to the throat. Twenty minutes to my doctor appt, which I'm hoping might provide some identification for all of this. . .or maybe just some medicine for fixing it. . .or, at the very least, some drugs for masking the symptoms.
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8:31 AM
Friday, February 15, 2002
Perpetual anticipation is good for the soul, but it's bad for the heart. . .I haven't blogged all week. I suck! Well, actually, I've been busy and out of the office and away from my desk a lot, but its much more fun to berate myself for my lack of bloggy attention. I shall now attempt to play catch-up:
Monday Saw Brotherhood of the Wolf last night. Wow. Even though I had no idea what to expect going into the movie, it was yet completely not what I was not-expecting. . .wait, that makes it sound like it was what I was expecting. . .hmmm. . .it was perdindicular to my non-expectations. Yes, that's better.
Tuesday Aaahhhhh. Figure skating. Chinese food. Snuggly giraffe. Happinessssss. . .
Wednesday I don't really have to make up for Wed, since I wasn't in the office anyway. Instead, I was in the fair and small berg of De Soto, performing a 45 minute Twelth Night for some high school students. . .and having lunch at the same Pizza Hut where I had lunch during my first gig with the same touring group. I feel as though some cosmic cycle has been completed.
Thursday Was in an absolutely atrocious mood, as I recall, which accounts for my non-blogging. Oh yeah, and it was the aniversary of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre. I don't celebrate the other holiday, because I think it is a bad, bad idea. People who do not have sweethearts are made to feel bad about this. People who do are put under huge amounts of pressure to make it the Perfect Romantic Night. Bleagh and no thank you.
And then we're back to today, wherein nothing of interest is happening. The receptionist was pestering me, I had work to do, I'm going home soon. Tra la. Obviously the writing lobe of brain is just understimulated this week. Bu. Mer.
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10:31 AM
Friday, February 08, 2002
The little one stops to suck his thumb. . .There appears to be a proportional relationship between the number of authors of an article in a medical journal and the number of words in that article's title. This leads me to wonder exactly how that works. Do they each get to pick 3 words or something like that? And can they use those words to bargain for a better position in the author listing?
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10:10 AM
Thursday, February 07, 2002
There's more than one answer to these questions. . .So, in the pursuit of learning something new every day, the karaoke bar proves, once again, to be invaluable. Last night I learned how to call a person a wussy in sign language. Now, I will share: you point at the person, then put your right hand parallel to the table (palm up), then you cup your left hand over your right (palms facing each other) so that your left fingers are in the middle of the right palm, collapse your left hand onto your right, then extend both hands, fingers pointing at the other person, perpendicular to the table, palms facing each other and shake them up and down once. You have technically called them a "weak person", but our instructor opined that this was the same basic concept. We concured. Cheers!
I also learned that the song "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life" is basically about blow jobs and drug use; what a relief. Adjacent to this, I now know the word "doo" counts as a lyric.
In much less interesting, Where Are They Now sort of news, I had some tuna for breakfast and threw the can in my cube trash receptical. This was a mistake, as it now smells rather bad. Ew and, might I add, gross.
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3:30 PM
and now I'm interested in what I'm calling MetaBlogging (blogging about blogging)-
from Jonno, day b4 yesterday:
I didn't think there was such a thing as being a purist as far as weblogs were concerned: it's still a new medium, and we're all in the process of figuring out for ourselves what the "rules" are. Part of the attraction of weblogs for me is that they function as performance, or works in progress. Isn't that what the "edit this post" button is for?
That was my opinion. In fact, today's blog in particular is being pieced together between goes at a rather large referencing project at work. Although I can see the attraction of purity if the blog is supposed to be a slice -of-life and all that. Hmmm. . .
The Monday entry from If attacks the "why do we blog" question, linking to a lengthier piece on the topic. As I do enough reading to find a cohesive argument, I'll cut and paste some back and forth. This could actually hold my attention long enough to be on about it. Neato. Nice change of pace.
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2:09 PM
24. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I
hate quotations. Tell me what you know.". . .Nevertheless, it seems popular in the blogging community to quote each other. In the interest of having enough material to blog more than once today and out of curiousity to see what it might do to my blogdex standing, this morning it's Float'n'Quote time:"A mystic is someone who wants to understand the universe, but is too lazy to study physics."
- anonymous, as published on whiskeyriver.
Sorcery involves the manipulation of symbols (which are also things) & of people (who are also symbolic) -- the archetypes supply a vocabulary for this process & therefore are treated as if they were both real & unreal, like words.
-Hakim Bey, from KMO, who went to the same college I did, oddly enough. I seem to be in the mood for magical topics today.
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9:46 AM
Tuesday, February 05, 2002
I just want to bang on the drum all day. . .I'm worried about me. Today, at work, I actually volunteered to DO EXTRA WORK. Splaining: I'm an actor. Technically, I'm a professional actor because I only take paying gigs. "Paying" is a loosely used term in this case which indicates any amount of money from $60/45 minute show to price of extra value meal/2 weekend run. Because I'd rather be acting than having a day job, I generally pursue office work which involves having as little responsibility as possible. Until now.Not only did I offer to "take up the slack" created by a former team-member's quitting, but I'm staying late to get it done. Help. And today they told me I was going to get business cards. . .and I felt excited. Oh, I really hope this doesn't mean I'm becoming a grown-up. I'm just going to tell myself it doesn't. It's just because I know I won't be here the rest of my life. Yessss, that feels better. . .nice warm sand covering head. . .aaaaaaahhhhhhhh.
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4:04 PM
Monday, February 04, 2002
I'll leave you with your misery, a friend who won't betray. . .People who don't take responsibility for themselves scare me. (On a side thought, that's probably why I'm a bit nervous around most children, albeit recognizing that they are generally too young to be taking responsibility of any kind.) In university, this behavior generally had to do with drinking, which apparently excused you from any culpability involved with threatening to throw yourself off the roof of the theatre. You could verbally abuse people and remain blameless. After joining in a 3-way, you could acuse the other participants. It wasn't you, it was the alcohol. I learned to get away from these people, quickly, quietly and to never, ever buy them drinks.Out in the real world, however, I've been recently startled to discover there are other more devious ways of chucking off the responsibility burden. The unexpected attacking remains the same, however. The same backing-off seems called for. . .no, no, don't get up, just, keep playing with your baseball cards, maybe have another martini or some kool-aid, i'm, just, i'm gonna, y'know, uh, bye. (door slams. feet are heard running downstairs.) Hmmm, sounds like making light and overintellectualizing to disguise some deeper hurt. Excellent, mission accomplished then.
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12:47 PM
Friday, February 01, 2002
Never been frightened of being enlightened, but some people go too far. . .I thought getting a free hashbrown with breakfast yesterday was a sign of a bright shiny Thursday. Instead, it seems to have been a bottom-shelf prize from the cosmos. Or it was just a simple mistake by an underpayed, apathetic fast-food worker. You decide.
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8:36 AM
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