Tag Archives: blogging

How You Really Found Me

12 Jul

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Am sitting here on “lunch,” sipping my red eye (black coffee with a shot), eating what will (I’m sure) equal an entire cereal box worth of Rice Krispy treats, sent special delivery from Aunt and Uncle G, am listening to bad 90’s music that I love, and Naughty Girl has finally arrived from China.

…Not bad, as workdays go.

Tonight, we have our last Friday performance of “Earnest” as the Black Lab team begins their Seattle 48 Hour Film Fest without about half it’s last year members.  (A classic, on-your-feet, guerilla write-film-and-edit campaign of creative awesomeness.)  We wish them well from our various places on the planet…and will try not to feel guilty as we climb into bed tonight, (at whatever-dark-thirty), which is still more sleep than they will be seeing until about this time on Monday.

…Kill it, guys!!!

Meanwhile, it’s been a bit since I checked up on the full arena of blog stats here for SWAL.  Never did get around to writing that all-inclusive First Year BD post I was thinkin’ on…and lets be real, by this point I won’t ever be.  Still like to look in and see how the numbers and things are running though…and one of my all-time favorite bonuses is the “Search Term” list…that is: how people not on FB or WordPress, found me to begin with.

…That’s right, I know all your dirty secrets, you little freaks.  Yes.  I’m talking to YOU, “Consumer Fury” and “Redheaded Girl Feet.”

…But I won’t tell. 

…Except for right here. 

…But after that, I swear I won’t even whisper a word.

Some of my current favorite hits include (word-for-word):

“bar talk blogs”
“nerd girl pin up”
“I’m not bossy I just have better ideas”
“dame wars”
“sneezing+feet fetish”
“Drag Queen makeouts”
“gollum theatre cups”
“PMS monster”
“hyperbole and metaphors slandering women in much ado about nothing”
“mae west fish”
“wine, pamprin and Breakfast @ Tiffany’s”
“downton fucking abbey”
“nice lesbian couple”
“circus porn”
“cooking torture”
“will and grace drinking game”
“welcome to the den of iniquities”
“Accidental asshole”
“rat pack boys and pin up girls theme party”
“the musicality of sentence structure”
“de-motivational posters boob”
“weightlifting girl postcards”
“gamer rage”
“the butt bio”
“my work in brothel”
“exercising demons”
“just checking cat email”
“marvel comic wedding toppers”
“people dressed as rag dolls”
“quality stalking”
“hell traffic”
“ode to my bed”
“mini hypochondriac”

…Of course, no matter how much I wanna point fingers and make fun of you, I know exactly which post(s) you were ultimately taken to, nine times outta ten, simply by your word combo.  So who is the joke really on?

…I vote: still you.  Because I gained readership in the end.

WIN!

…But seriously.  “Just checking CAT email?”

You lost me.

~D

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Waving Goodbye, From A Speeding Train

31 Dec

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So little time to spend looking backwards today, as I have so much planning, cleaning, shopping,  errands, lines and rehearsal time to focus on instead. 

…Have been burning the midnight oil a lot this week, and have learned through the experience that leaving the daily post for end-of-the-night, poses a number of problems stemming mostly from sheer exhaustion, and residual libation levels. I thought I’d try the more sober attack by forcing the keys beneath my fingers BEFORE all the madness begins…even while my eyes dart around the room noting all the hundred little things I need to clean and prepare for tonight. Trying m’best not to get sidetracked. Also: I really could use coffee. Am beanless and trying to tell myself that black English tea will work just as well. We’ve already had this discussion ten or eleven million times and know that it won’t.

…Meanwhile, as all this shit goes rushing through my brain, and the “to do” list of the day grows even while I’m just sitting here, I wanna take a second, make a quick glance back at the 2012 calendar to appreciate the places I’ve been along its life travels. A year of time has earned it’s place in the spotlight I guess. If for nothing else, than just the fact that the Mayan’s were wrong: we’re still here…and its up to us now to write the future that they clearly got too tired (or bored with) to keep working at.

For one, SWAL was born in June: a new blogging platform, in a new community of creative thinkers and doers…and I enjoyed being a part of it so much that five months ago I pledged the Blog-a-Day challenge, even though I hate doing things in odds, or mid-way through. 

…Every time I see the badge on m’blog I still have to fight the discomfort of knowing I joined part way into a thing, so my full year of achievement doesn’t fall on everyone else’s…that I still have well over half a year to go before my achievement is complete, and will then have the most anti-climatic ticker tape parade-for-one, in all of time. 

Should I have waited to join up with the circus at the stroke of midnight tonight?  I dunno.  Maybe. My little OCD buddy would have preferred it that way. But somehow it just seems wrong to plan that far in advance to run off and join a circus.  One doesn’t really “plan” it, one just becomes suddenly (without explanation) consumed with the community, art and wonder of it, and never looks back.  Which is what I did.  So points to me for being brave and all.  But then sometimes, realizing what a shit-ton of work being in one means, is sorta a pain in the ass.  Like for instance, when it’s four in the morning and I still haven’t done my post for the day. Or when talking about finding a penny on the sidewalk is about the level of excitement I have to offer the SWAL universe at-large.  I’ll try to do better…which isn’t to insinuate I don’t try the other times.  But it is true, I prob’ly could be a little more self-aware of free topic matter floating around me day-to-day.

…So, I will.

Next: A short season for theatre after a bustling one the year before.  Much longer breaks in between gigs, as nothing seemed pressing me to invest what it takes to do a show, at the level I’ve come to enjoy and expect.  The roles mean more to me now than they used to…not just grabbing at shows to fill the space, with hope that I will come ’round to actually be emotionally “in” them.  First of all: theatre is a lot of goddamn work. And at the level I invest in it: it’s the kind of work equal to birthing a new baby every two-to-three months…a lot of times painful, and messy, and frustrating, but ultimately joyful with mad amounts of pride in the end result that all we birth-partners have achieved.  Of course, sometimes you have a total dud too.  But mostly…mostly its been a year of happy family time, with new friends, new lessons, and new realizations. 

…As I carry on with rehearsals for the first show of 2013 (opening in less than two weeks time), I can tell this’ll be a year of upping the stakes again, pushing harder and going further than the usual casting and comfort levels.  Which is a phenomenal “starting” point, not to be wasted.  So I won’t.  Which means I’ve got some serious show scouting and auditions to hit this year…prob’ly further out of town than I prefer…but it’s a thing I’m totally prepared, at this point, to do.

In Other News: This was the year when The BFF took flight again, gallivanting to the melting pot of L.A. for reasons that I intellectually totally understand, but still emotionally find completely and woefully fucked up.  I miss her all the time. Yet by some kind of magic, when she visits, it’s like she never left at all.  She’s learning things all the time, and changing, but not changing in the ways that matter most, (and what I secretly feared), knowing what a soul-sucking enterprise that that town is and will always be. 

…One need not worry about that with The BFF. 

…She was born at the age of 35, and only gained personal strength, purpose, insight, intensity and integrity since then.  She’s fine.  She will always be fine.  Even if her BFF is sitting here freaking out about the 20,000 ways of possible scenarios in which she might possibly NOT be.

…I fucking HATE it how she’s always right about shit.  (‘Cept when she’s wrong…which happens too, upon occasion…but only sometimes.)

2012 was also The Year Of The Marty. 

…This is in reference to a once in a lifetime event that occurs, which has great significance. Like seeing Halleys Comet. The last occurrence on this scale of magnificent glory happened during the original Year Of The BFF. It just means that fate said, “You don’t know it yet, but this person has mad power to consume your interest, beat the shit out of your wall-building defenses, will challenge you often, and bring you tons of joy.” All my friend soul mates and family in the past, have added a new most important member to the clan this year. For which I am ecstatically thankful and always will be. Which is as sappy at I’m gonna get about that. So shut up, and pass me the french fries…

…And in closing: This was the year of re-evaluations.

Acknowledging that palettes change several times within a lifetime, I spent several solid tracks of the year, exploring and re-visiting things that have never been my particular taste or track of enjoyment, but felt was time to revisit again, never-the-less. Where one or two new tastes were found having been acquired…there were definitely those of solid disgust which HAVE NOT altered in the least. I know now, that they just never will be my cup of tea. And with that comes a kind of guiltless freedom, as the proof that “I tried it” was there…oh, so very embarrassingly obvious for all to see, in some cases.

…So there was that.

…Several “theres” and several “thats.”

…And though I continue to struggle with one specific highly palatable, yet pro’bly still glutton-filled-fest of a bad idea, which seems to haunt me, going on years…at the moment, I’m able to be reasonable about it. Which means, “I win. For now.”

…And that’s something.

Happy last of the year, all!

…May your day of past reflection and happy expectation be an exploding cork from a good bottle of bubbly, to you all!

~D

Travel Writing & Lines

27 Sep

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So yesterday’s post was composed on the way to, (and in the parking lot just before), rehearsal. 

…Because that is when I had time.

We are only in blocking now. Clearly, I need to figure out how to get a few blogs in draft form holding ready for immediate posting as needed.  Because if I hadn’t had a particularly funny rehearsal to write about yesterday, I would have had to settle for the bird eating a french fry off the sidewalk, or nomad (of the homeless persuasion), cussing at his invisible friend while looking for something that had fallen to the bottom of his shopping cart.

…When you have all of fifteen minutes to write in, you can’t be picky, people.

Also, I’m already having “line guilt.”

…This is the guilt you feel when you are not yet off book, and yet try to enjoy things like your new “Thor” Bluray specials, but can’t because the whole time you are trying to tell yourself you’re “having a good time,” but are secretly freaking out about how you have like ten gillion lines that haven’t been learned yet. Because of Theatre religious connotations, its a lot like Jewish and Catholic guilt really. Only a little bit worse. Cuz you can’t just “absolve” it later when you still don’t know the lines, and really, really, really wanna watch the “Castle” season opener. But can’t.

…So I’m going with the “rewarding” plan of attack. This is based on the “buy one, get one free” schematic.

For every French Scene I memorize, I getta do one thing NOT having to do with lines. (Like write a blog for instance.) Then I go back and kick another one’s ass and get to play with another thing. Only, my memory has always been a little for-shit in that temporary storing part where lines live? Which means I spend twice as long learning them, then taking a break and re-learning them…over and over and over again, until they finally stick.

…It took me three hours just to get my first scene down yesterday, mid phone bookings at work. And then I had to relearn the entire fucking thing on the way home. And again while in the shower after my walk, but before rehearsal. When I woke up this morning and tried it, all of a sudden I actually remembered it. Which could totally change by noon today…who even knows. The fact I’m not even using the meter to help me learn ’em, (so I don’t get all stuck in it later), hasn’t been the greatest help either.

…Which means, I’ll prob’ly still be on scene three when next we speak, and I STILL won’t fucking know what happened “the morning after” for Kate n’ Castle.

Basically, this is just me bitching about the essential necessities of acting, because, “poor me,” I have a job and lines to learn…and how it is TOTALLY getting in the way of my fav TV show fixations. Which is not to say I am ungrateful…cuz I do love me the theatre…I just hate that I’m not one of those photographic memory people who can look at a law book once through, then pass the Bar, all in one afternoon.

It would be a super handy skill, no lie.

…Meanwhile, I have to go back to my Open Order report now. So I can finish it and spend the next five hours afterward, trying to slam three monologues into my brain, while I file.

It’s a glamourous life I lead.

You only WISH you were me.

~D

Literary Excuses

16 Sep

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Today I finally finished Jenny Lawson’s laughtrack to her life, and realized that aside from a spectacular session of reader’s theatre that The BFF and I entertained one another with, over Whiskey and cigars the other day…it was the first book I’ve finished reading in prob’ly upward of three months.

…That shit is ridiculous.

…And I totally know whose fault it is, too:

The summer.

J.J. Abrams.

And you.

…The reason I haven’t finished a damn book in so long is because there is sunshine out there…and that almost never happens in this state…and I NEED to freakin’ be out in it, every second that I possibly can

…And when I’m not outside, I am prob’ly glued to “Alias” for the first time…wondering how in the hell I have lived this long on earth without finding out that J.J. Abrams is prob’ly the magical movie “third” in writer-imagination-kickassness, right after Sorkin and Whedon. But no matter how excited I get about it and wanna tell someone, they’re all like, “Uh. Yeah. Everyone already knows that, dumbass.”

WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS, YOU GUYS?!  I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS!!

…My next reason in actively forsaking the written novel/history/biography/NY Times Best Seller, is that I’ve been glued to the fucking computer since first opening this blog. 

For some reason I thought it would be a great idea, and not at all stressful, to blog every single day…whether I happen to have something to comment on or not.  Which has already gotten me into a ton of sticky wickets due to the fact that (in case you aren’t a full-time reader)…my life ain’t all that spectacular. 

…If I had to compare apples to oranges, I’d say that’s exactly like doing a one hour stand-up improv routine, every. single. day. I have no idea where the material is supposed to materialize from, but I’m standing here on the damn stage…with the mic on…so I better just come up with something…and kinda quick…cuz I have to do this all over again, tomorrow.  And since you all are in the audience, (and keep insisting on reading it), I figure you’re basically enablers. So really, it’s all your fault.

Naturally.

…I keep waiting for the inevitable anxiety attack that this will bring on, as the days pass, and I start rehearsals on top of work. Which leaves only about enough time to take a shower, eat one meal a day, and schedule my pooping time (because I can’t “poop” just anywhere, you know…and that takes some serious navigating and preplanning.)

Meanwhile, rehearsals start this Saturday, and I have no idea how I’m gonna make all this fly.

…Which is not to say that I don’t enjoy the challenge it presents: the fact that I often have to just pull a theme outta my butt and run with it, or mix up the media presentation a bit, or figure out how to spin something that is still a bit too raw at the moment, into something we can all laugh about less than 24 hours later…when you’re reading it from your phone, while undertaking your morning after-coffee BM.  (A lot of you do, and you know it, and I’m totally okay with it. Really.)

…Anyway.  What I’m getting at is — this isn’t just a “chore” thing.  Only sometimes it is.  Like when I’m tired.  Or grumpy. Or traveling.  Mostly it is an enjoyable clean slate for the day, on which to scribble upon.  But I DO miss a paper book in my hands.  And I DO need to make more time (somehow) to continue to study from them.  And I DO have lines that need learning.  But I DO think I can fit it all in.  And this is my accountability clerk, jotting it all down in ink (is it still “ink” when in type on a screen?)…so that I will remember my pledge and uphold it.

It may be something as simple as streamlining. Less words per day from my brain, in order to have time to soak up others’.

…Which I can live with.

What I can’t do is another three months and only one novel checked off the “read” list from the three-zillion-and-one piled up beside my bed, waiting to be next. 

Don’t forsake my education…even while I practice what I’ve learned.

I need both.  All the time.  It keeps me centered. And focused.

~D

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