Ninjas, Math, and Spinach Puffs

Our math teacher gave us a proposition: wear your costume to class on Halloween and get 5 extra points on the next exam. On the last quiz there was one question: Why are man hole covers round? I said because the Ninja turtles can't fit down square holes with their shells.

I need all the help I can get..... I knew what I had to do.

Halloween this year is on a friday. We also have a show on Halloween. This friday I woke up and of course remembered I had show tonight. So I got dressed in my Halloween costumed and headed to class. I get there and see no one else is in their costume. "Haha," I thought. "I am the only one who is getting the extra points!"


Then I remembered today is not Halloween.

***

I used to be quite familiar with the walk from a rehearsal building to the local 24 hour convenience store. Every Saturday morning I had to make the short trek, rain or shine or wind, to get a diet Pierre with Lime for the director. Apparently he couldn't direct without it. Or get it himself. I don't think he knew my name, but I know he knew his place. I was just his assistant stage manager. And thank yous, aren't in my job description.

To this day I still won't drink diet Pierre with Lime. I even hate the sound of it. It's just a more expensive way say Sprite.

A year later, he saw me in a production not under his direction. He even went out of his way to me to genuinely congratulate me afterwards. I don't care that he likely still doesn't know my name. A change from our usual brief conversation was all that mattered.

I wish I could say this tale would have a happy ending.....I'm hoping it's just not over yet.

Later that night the director of the show and I are at a reception. We spot spinach puffs from across the room. Naturally, our first inclination is to decide to be Ninjas and we prance stealthily over to our prize. I was so wrapped up in the moment, my ninja skills failed me, and I crashed right into...... yes, the old director, causing spillage of many sorts.

Never have I fallen from grace so quickly after working so hard to reach it.

***

Embarrassing moments are like Ninjas. No matter how much you brace yourself for them, you still never know when they're going to attack next.

I'm Not Too Hard To Please

From: Drama Department
Sent: Thursday, October 23, 2008 8:46 AM
To: DRAMA_DEPART-L@LISTSERV.UCONN.EDU
Subject: 10/23 Amber Alert in DRMU - not an emergency



Good morning:

The alarm company is working on the DRMU system today, therefore the fire and amber alarms have been temporarily disconnected.
For today please disregard the flashing amber alert.

-Best,
Cecile Stanzione
Business Manager, Dramatic Arts




moments later from my Design Professor.......




From: Drama Department
Sent: Thursday, October 23, 2008 9:51 AM
To: DRAMA_DEPART-L@LISTSERV.UCONN.EDU
Subject: 10/23 Amber Alert in DRMU - not an emergency, Forward Prof Michael Franklin White





PANICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Excuse me while I listen to the Fuzzy Toasters

Never heard of them? Really......


I made a remark to friend how flannel parallels a country's economic state (early 90's- late 00's) But I was quickly corrected. "No no," he said. "Hipsters just need some way to keep warm in the winter."

I do not live in a city but I do live on a university campus, which means I am swarmed with a distinct breed: The College Know It All Hippie hipster.

Sure every generation feels they are the last. Even Sophoceles thought his was. But sometimes I feel ours truely is. Despite the economy, global warming, and the war, we also have to deal with bears, robots, robot BEARS, managing a facebook!!, pirates, solanium outbreaks, and the list goes on. Even if we get caught up feeling we are the last, we still can't forget that we are not the first.

On that note, you don't ever have to worry about a man riding around on segway shouting, "The hipsters are coming! The hipsters are coming!" If you haven't realized already, the hipster movement landed decades ago, it'll hit you across the face like a teatherball. Being a hipster isn't anything new.

Ironic, isn't it?

I am confused. I thought hipsters were non conformists, non mainstreamists. Somewhere this got lost because I can describe a hipster from the top of their Ray Bans to the bottom of their Chuck Taylors..... Do they love irony so much because they themselves are ironic?

How come Falling Slowly is always playing in my hallway then? I believe I may have eaten that song for dinner one night. And I swear to Sun Ra, if I have to hear my roomate play Regina Spektor one more time, I'm taking that Across the Universe poster and launching it where it says it is. But I don't by any means live amongst the hipsters....These were all once jumped at by hipsters, but then every hipster liked it and badabing badaboom, its a mainstream success. And by mainstream, I mean my mom knows it. I find you have to give tunes the ipod commerical test now to see if it'll take to a hipster. If a song is played on an ipod commerical, its trip the light fantastic, for this week at least. If its played on a commerical thats not for Apple, best not reference it in a thrift store because it's sorta like that fourth album by Weezer*, Maladroit: Who fucking cares about it? (On that note, I believe I don't stand alone when I ask, When is the new Jicks video going to come out? )

I am terribly baffled by the music. I don't understand why hipsters pretentiously feel the need to know indie music only a handful of people have heard of. I feel closer to someone knowing we share a favorite artist. And as Jay Retard once said, "there's sometimes a reason why alot of indie music goes unheard of- just because it's indie doesn't mean it's good!" Yeah I saw that in this awesome interview he did with Pitchfork magazine.......

Woa, what-

I mean....I saw... it.... on......... Oh Damn You Hipsters!! All you do is make me feel like I'm not unique! I JUST WANT TO LISTEN TO PAVEMENT BECAUSE I GENUINELY LOVE LOU REED. And I grew up listening to classic rock, so of course I enjoy the wolf parade, I love David Bowie! I reserve the right to love the Hold Steady because I love Bruce Springsteen. Can I help it if Jack White's voice makes me all fittery and jittery because I think it sounds a little like Robert Plant?

If this makes me a hipstercrite, so be it.

I thought I'd never consider myself a hipster.

Then I realized I said that in a blog.

Hey, I could be saying that into a hamburger phone.......

Or wondering if anyone else has problems fitting their ipod in the their pants pocket?


...no really though, does that bludge make my butt look nonexistant?




*Fufills obligation to make a Weezer/Rivers Cuomo reference every couple of blogs or so.....I mean, what if Brian Bell were to read this...... just sayin....Oh who am I kidding, he's not! Hey Brian, your solo projects make the Red Album look Blue.

I Was Tired Of The Best Years Of My Life

My philosophy TA sent me this email

(picture included.)

HEY YOU, How's it going?

PLEASE NOTE: This e-mail is not just going out to you. It is for everyone in my discussion groups. You're not that SPECIAL!!

I'm sending out this for two reasons.

(1): I want to remind you that you are required to bring three questions on the readings to discussion Thursday. Even if you with your infinite wisdom and understanding have absolutely no questions whatsoever, lower yourself to thinking like we poor commoners and come up with some questions that somebody else might have. I will not be generous when it comes to grading.

(2): I like numbered lists.

(3): There is no third reason for my sending this.

Your TA,

Colonel MasseyThe Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels

You borrowed my socks?!**

If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school....The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.....You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum....You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.....You'd run from people's feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night.....(This poem took fourteen years to write--'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

The Boy Named Sue composer and lyrist’s original works were first published in Playboy magazine. So does this mean people do actually read that? And poetry none the less!

I recently went into an old boyfriend’s room. As I stood there with one hand in my pocket and the other hand not on the desk beside me, I noticed how spotless it was. Maybe nookless is more accurate. I was so hesitant to touch anything as if I would taint it, scratch it, or look at it in the wrong way. I didn’t see my reflection anywhere but I felt as though I should have. At second glance I would see the same thing as the first glance. No surprises hanging out on the corner of a coffee table, lingering under a magazine, or hiding terribly from being put inside a desk drawer. What you saw is what you got.

And what you got was nice. Nice high definition screen TV. Nice collection of movies waiting for a Tuesday night in as they were meticulously stacked beside a bed made with obvious effort and precision. The stripes in the curtains complemented the book covers to the complete works of The Strong Bow Sage: Viking Warriors very nicely.

It took something as silly as being in that room at that moment to make me realize I understand why our relationship didn’t work.

Where were the nicknacks and paddywacks…..Where were the whosies and whatsies……Where were the thingamabobbers and thingamagiggers….Where were the nooks and most of all….WHERE WERE ALL THE CRANNIES?!?!

I caught myself questioning whether it was okay to put my feet up on the coffee table. Then I caught myself questioning if it was okay to question whether it was okay to put my feet up on the coffee table.

Then I heard something. “Dear Mandy, Don’t make me conform! Sincerely, That Lump of Pants Lying At Your Feet.” It made me think of an old Fatboy Slim song: Maybe someday we'll patch it all up like a favorite pair of jeans that you won't give up.

As many times as I had listened to think song I had never associated it with him. I wasn’t dwelling on the thing of the past. I wasn’t questioning it or lamenting it. Our past relationship was something I’ve grown to call “what had been.” I always knew why we hadn’t lasted. But now, standing amidst the emptiness, I understand the why.

There’s something to be said about someone’s bedroom. I’m not speaking in terms of neatness vs clutter or whether you make your bed or not- that’s a personal choice. To put in perspective, your bedroom is the least social room in your house. I can’t remember the last time my parents discussed their plans for trips to the panama with the family friends or neighbors in the bedroom. I would be disturbed if I could. Don’t you feel a deeper understanding of a friend once you’ve entered their bedroom? This is where they have spent time alone. This is where they go at night. This is the first thing they see when they start their day.

Lying around you find bits of your presence in the room, even if you’re not.

Is that what you look like when you're not there?

I want to go at night to a room where the tale of The Indian in the Cupboard seems like a possibility. The little toys could come to life and pop out of places they hide during the day…..Is that asking too much?

That way, you would fit in if you were one inch tall.

**the first phrase I heard when I started this.

I must really have a bundle of work to do and jumble of essays to write, hence the blog.....