The Next Dark Age
We're in it Now
Writers’ Theatre, Heartbreak House
Writers’ Theatre really likes Shaw. I believe I read somewhere that he was the most produced playwright in their history, and since this one was not a musical..I was totally game.
I’ve said before that one of the strengths of this company is the set design. They go for intimacy and work in a small space which requires major creativity. Heartbreak House had the best set I have ever seen. It was the garden of an English country house and I want to live there.
There was grass. Not Brady Bunch turf, but something green and soft that looked like grass. OK – the blades were lying on their sides like it was cut-and-mulched, but still. And. The actors use the aisles for many of their entrances, so one of the aisles had actual gravel. It was awesome, and my seat is in the first row.
Side Note: Overheard in the audience, “That gravel is a liability. Someone is going to turn an ankle.”
Then trees and the porch and the façade of the house. And big pillows and chairs and rugs. It was hard to sit still in my standard modern chair.
As is often the case, my favorite character was the Crazy Old Man. It becomes clear rather quickly that all of the characters are crazy. By the end, there is no greater understanding, no glimpse of peace or happiness or reaching any goals of any kind. And the Blitz starts.
What is interesting is the underlying awareness the characters have of their own sense of drama. That they create their own nonsense because they lead such utterly tedious lives. Such that when the Blitz starts, one guy is turning all of the lights on and almost no one is taking any cover. They want to watch because finally something is happening.
As a societal commentary, Shaw seems to be saying that there is a certain class of people in England with the emotional maturity of 14-year old girls.
So that was fun.
Bird Walk
I have posted about this absolutely everywhere, but my own blog!
The parrot rescue where I volunteer is having a 10-mile walk to raise awareness and support the mission:
“First and foremost, to work together with other parrot groups to eliminate the need for rescues. Until then, we will:
• Provide temporary housing and care for any and all Psittacine birds (not including those with fatal and/or contagious diseases)
• Educate the public about the proper care of exotic birds
• Locate healthy, happy, and nurturing homes for those that are eligible.”
The event will be held on Monday, May 30th at 10am, Rain or Shine at:
Laura Sprague School
2425 Riverwoods Rd
Lincolnshire, Illinois
If you would like to participate, please leave me a comment. There is no registration fee and obviously, no one is obligated to walk the entire 10 miles. You can also Join the Team or make a contribution on our Crowdrise page.
This is a particularly big deal because it is the first such event that we have ever held. I am looking forward to a great day!
A Real Blogger Would Have Something Profound to Say
Alas, I do not.
Shortly after 10pm, I was just about ready to turn out my light and go to sleep. I checked back in on Facebook and saw my friend Brandon, who happens to work at CNN, post:
Holy crap! This is huuuuge news!
I can’t believe “Fast Five” won the weekend box office!
Ding Dong, Osama’s Dead!
I was typing cnn.com faster than I did even on 9/11. And just like 9/11, cnn.com wasn’t fast enough. I turned on the TV like a normal person.
I remember that when I heard the news that morning, and cnn.com didn’t respond, I ran down the hall to my boss’ office. There was a crowd huddled about his little cabinet TV. I was feeling like I should be with people. For news like this, waiting around for the President to speak, I should have been with people.
Facebook had to suffice.
He was good, our President. And those Navy SEALs? Rock stars.
As an American and a frequent traveler, I can’t say that I feel any more safe than I did a week ago. But I am glad for a bit of closure.
Son of a Witch, by Gregory Maguire
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=leartojugg-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0061862320&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrBook 26
I was saying that I loved Wicked
Which was a scary, scary place.
Son of a Witch
Liir was a boy that lived with Elphaba in Kiamo Ko. He may have been her son, but he didn’t know. And then she was dead. So Liir leaves the tower with Dorothy and Crew and heads back to the Emerald City. After Dorothy’s departure, the novel returns to its scary, scary portrait of Maguire’s Oz.
So I was following along with the little story, happy that it was good enough to justify my time, but not so great that I felt compelled to read the next in the series. Liir was sort of plodding along – pawn in the game of the next ruler of the land. Meeting the sentient Animals, searching for a lost childhood friend. But he was also sort of searching for his own purpose. And not very well. He is so. Dumb.
I did my share of eye-rolling at this character, but at the end of the novel there were a few threads that I wanted to follow:
- Childhood friend seems to have survived – and been scribbling “Elphaba Lives” all over the Emerald City.
- The Emperor is Elphaba’s little brother and I suspect that someone is going to Take Him Down.
- There is a little green baby.
In Which I Talk about My Hair, But Have a Point
Sometimes, when a lady is frustrated with her hair, she must do something about it right now. The other night, my regular place couldn’t take me, so I went someplace new. This wasn’t really a problem for me, because I don’t particularly like my regular salon. They are simply the place that has the formula for the hair color I want.
I told the new stylist what my hair color formula is, not knowing if they use the same line of products. She said, “Yes, I know the formula, but that isn’t what your hair color is. That will be lighter than what you have now.”
I didn’t want lighter hair, so I went with her recommendation. I had a bad feeling about it, though. And I could tell as soon as it was on my head that it would be too dark. After the application, she came back with a pen and paper, asking for my contact information so that she could keep the formula on file.
“I don’t want the formula on file,” I said. “I can already tell it is too dark.”
Immediately, she became defensive and said that she did exactly what I said and that the dye always darker out of the bottle. As if I am somehow new to this game.
I replied. “And it is fine for now. But if I return, this is not what I want recorded for my color.”
She went off and pouted for so long that I was afraid she wasn’t coming back. Finally, as she was rinsing my hair she said, “You know it really will get lighter and I think you will be very happy.”
I was right and she was wrong and I left angry. But I wasn’t even angry with her. I was angry because I didn’t assert myself, as the client, in the first place. I allowed myself to be led by the “expert” professional (who I now suspect didn’t have the knowledge or confidence to mix formulas as I had described).
When I was 19 and having major anxiety about going to the dentist, my father said, “You are the client. No one can touch you without your consent. If you aren’t comfortable, you get up out of the chair and walk out the door.”
Of course, I have never actually done that. But when I remind myself that I can get up and leave, it makes it much easier to assert myself. How I manage to do that with the dentist, and not with a kid working in a salon is totally beyond me.
First Picture from the Mac Phone Booth
You know what is more difficult than medicating a bird? Medicating a cat. This is Spooky, still pouting ten minutes later.
BTT- Coming Soon to a Theater Near You
This was the Booking Through Thursday question that I couldn’t answer last night because I needed to run around my own books before making a final decision:
If you could see one book turned into the perfect movie–one that would capture everything you love, the characters, the look, the feel, the story–what book would you choose?
After debating with myself for over 24 hours, I have come up with a Top 3. But first, I must Side Note one of the debates, because it will amuse my mother:
Self 1: Rhett Butler’s People
Self 2: That’s asinine. That wasn’t even a Great Book. It was a (Qualified) Good Book.
Self 1: Don’t care. The question read “one book turned into the perfect movie”. It didn’t say “Great Book”, but it did say “perfect movie”. “Perfect movie” would involve Clark Gable reprising the role of Rhett Butler, and there isn’t anything under Heaven I would rather see on screen.
Self 2: Dude, Gable’s been….
Self 1: Shut. Up. It said “perfect movie”. As in Dreamland! As in Any Actor I Want!
- So. Here is where I landed.
- Wicked
. Not the musical. The actual plot of the actual book with the sad, scary Land of Oz and the politics and the Animals and the psychological profile of the villain. I have heard rumors that someone is going to try it. And I suppose that if Peter Jackson could do LOTR, someone might do Wicked. But that Perfect Movie might be better in my head.
- The Vampire Lestat
- Devil in the White City
, by Erik Larson is my non-fiction pick. (I hear Spielberg is doing Team of Rivals
, and I am not ready to talk about that, yet.) Chicago, 1893, World’s Fair, serial killer. This movie can be done and I can’t imagine why no one has tried.
I Was a Guest Blogger
For year two, Carlo Garcia has decided to feature one charitable cause each month. For April, he chose Literacy Works, an organization in Chicago that works to, “to fulfill the promise of a basic human right: to read, write, and interpret the world.”
I made a small donation and you can find my post about that on Living Philanthropic.
Wherein I Think "I Told You So"
The Chicago Tribune ran an article, originally from the L.A. Times about a study of the health of business travelers. It seems frequent flyers are less healthy.
Shocking. Here are the stats:
“Extensive travelers were 260% more likely than light travelers to rate their health as fair to poor. Obesity was 92% more common in the extensive travelers. They also had higher cholesterol and high blood pressure.”
I had started to notice that my retiring colleagues were all getting healthier. Exercising, dropping weight, ditching some of the meds. I had associated it with leaving the stress of The Grind, but not with the travel in specific.
I am not giving up Auntie Anne’s pretzels.
Interestingly, the article does not talk about other Traveler Afflictions I have heard mentioned. Blood clots is the one that scares me. Back problems from shlepping the luggage through the airport. I have a colleague whose doctor forbids her to carry on luggage. He doesn’t want her lifting anything into the overhead bins anymore. Not to mention Airplane Plague – the general cold-n-flu like symptoms one picks up after a time on the road.
I am not sure how the math might change when looking at people that primarily drive to other locations or business. As for me, I am just glad that I am home this month.
Why I Love (Many) Sports
Today at work, I asked a pack of guys which would be more important – watching the 4th quarter of the Bulls game tonight, or watching the 1st period of the Blackhawks game. They are running concurrently tonight. The response was unanimous:
Blackhawks.
My mother disagrees. If you really want to hear the story behind this discussion, you can stay after class, but it made me think about the different reasons people enjoy watching sports. I had to explain it to one of my nerd friends once:
- It is a contest in which I get to root for someone. Picking a side is fun. Good guys and bad guys.
- That rooting for someone is often regional. A form of community spirit.
- Sometimes, I just need to scream about something. I believe I have mentioned that I scream so much during football that my cat is afraid of the theme song for Monday Night Football. Sports are a socially acceptable thing to scream about. (It is also a socially acceptable reason to drink to excess, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.)
- It is a relatively safe subject when one is required to converse with strangers.
- It is a relatively safe subject when one is inclined to pick a fight with friends or family.
Example: Great Aunt Bev is from Michigan. As in Detroit. As in Pistons. One Christmas Day, the Bulls were playing..someone..and Aunt Bev made a couple of rather snarky comments about Michael Jordan. My brother, age 12 or 13, shouted (in his best Monty Python voice) “Burn the Witch!!”
And he got away with it.
For me, sports are great fun when my teams are winning, and not too hard to shake off when they aren’t. (I believe Joy said it takes half of Monday morning for me to get over a bad Bears loss.) A low risk emotional investment.
And tonight, I have two teams in the playoffs.
The Next Dark Age 