thewrittenword

i have recently been exploring - perhaps re-exploring or even rediscovering completely might be better terminology - the long form written communication technique known as the letter. ok, in actuality i have been using email as form, but substance has all been letter. a friend, one might say my only friend, lives a very long ways away. she has many jobs and also looks after her family. this makes her quite busy. we have communicated off and on for the last several years mostly through IM/chat of various types. however, of late her work situation has made even that infrequent method difficult. i suppose i could call, or she could call me, but international rates still aren't free. there are alternatives, but for some reason we have never tried skype or even the video chat available in google (and no i do not know why; perhaps someday i will avail myself of these options, but not as of now.)
which leaves us with...
the letter. email. long form written communication.
whatever.

surprisingly, i have been enjoying it.
i will admit it is often difficult to get started and i still wonder what to say, but so far, she hasn't been unhappy with the attempt. at least not that she has said to me.
so i will continue to write. erratically. spontaneously. inarticulately.
maybe someday, i will even use (gasp) a pen. and paper.
imagine the horror.
i know.
me too.

try it out. let me know what you think of it.
write me.

out.

ps. i will be reposting this on google+. if you follow both, you can write me twice. or just skip one and see what happens.

post-out.

aida

here i am.

been gone a while.

need to work on that.

again.

still.

just finished designing a production of aida.

for a high school.

so much fun. i mean it.

no sarcasm intended.

the kids were a blast. i forgot how much i like teaching. small groups, not the whole class. but still, when i had a few of them and we were working on something and i could explain what we were doing and why and sometimes even the history behind such things...

too much fun.

tons of work. i think people underestimate how much work goes into a high school production. in fact, one could argue they are harder and more effort than professional productions.

no trained crews, no professional skill sets, teenage angst, etc, etc, etc...

my understanding and appreciation of all those teachers go through has increased. 

the director/drama teacher and the musical director/vocal teacher have put in too many hours to count, sacrificing time, family, food and money to make something the kids could be proud of; should be proud of.

what a fantastic group of young students they have.

this is not an easy show. singing, acting, dancing, costumes, quick changes, props, sound, music, microphones, lighting, spotlights...

as anyone in this industry knows, there are many times many elements in any production, but the big musicals seem to bring them all on at once.

and these kids, these performers and crew, these theatre people make it look easy.

is it perfect? no. 

is it ever?

it is perfect watching a group of students threading the shallow waters on their way into the deep, deep oceans of theatre and performing arts.

it is perfect watching a great show performed by talented people.

every story is a love story.

this is the story of me falling in love with theatre, and the people who make it, all over again.

out.

more misogyny. sorry.

so as i have been looking over the last few weeks o my life, i have discovered a somewhat misogynistic tendency. now, i would like to think i have somewhat of a basis for it, but one could say it is definitely there. of course, i don't want people to think i really hate women. i don't. i love women. i think women are the most beautiful of all god's creations. i think they are exquisite creatures of meaning and aesthetic, the perfect blending of form and function.
and all of them will never want me in any meaningful, romantic or close relationship.
i don't hate them. and its not that i don't trust them. rather i trust them completely...
to fuck me over. to screw with my head. to make me suffer. to torture me.
and of course, like all good masochists, i want one.
to the women who will disagree with me (you know who you are) i tried. i tried hard. i thought things were good.
i was wrong.
they lie.
the deceive.
every time i turn around it gets worse.
so before you can castigate me any further over my self-deprecation and hatred for the conniving wenches who have once again torn my heart out and stomped on it with their pretty little feet, here's the deal.
show up at my house with a funny, beautiful, intelligent, passionate woman who will at least go out with me before she decides i am not worth the time to tell "fuck off" to, and maybe, just maybe we can have a conversation.
until then, i will never believe.

 out.

women. can't live with 'em. can't kill 'em all.

so it turns out there was never any shot with the previously mentioned girl.

she was lying to me.

you know, i can understand a girl not liking me. i can understand a girl not wanting to talk to me, be around me or have anything to do with me whatsoever. i may not like it, i may not want it, but i can understand it. but at least have the basic human courtesy to tell me to my face. if your intention is not to screw with me, then just say so. but ignoring calls and texts when you tell me to call you, in fact you put your phone number in my phone? being nice to my face, then sneaking out the back door without saying anything, not even goodbye? that's just cruel.

so to all of you who think i should find a nice girl and settle down, bite me. there is no such creature. the only women who are, have been or ever will be nice to me are women who are safe. married, long term relationships, etc etc; in some fashion unavailable.

unattainable goes without saying.

out.

twitter repeat

Muscle spasms + pain + drugs + late night + sick + heartbreak = my life last 48 hours

dumbass again.

proved again today what a colossal fuck up i am.

and of course, it was about a girl.

i have no excuses.

i am just plain good old fashioned stupid.

instead of thinking and talking and finding things out, i just reacted. poorly.

i may have lost my chance with her.

someday, maybe i wont be so bad at this.

yeah, right.

out.

In case you were wondering, the head is not the best tool for opening the oven...