"It's all about the triumph of intellect and romance over brute force and cynicism." Okay, so that's Craig Ferguson talking about Doctor Who, but this blog endeavors exactly that. Lofty yes, but what the hell, why not. Onward, my romantic intellectual companions!
I have been away from this blog for far too long. It's not that I haven't had things to talk about (I've had plenty) I just found myself busy with other things - summer classes, novel writing, gallivanting about Minneapolis, musing greatly on the elegance of hedgehogs (both blog-wise and novel-wise). I've also found myself thinking greatly about change and feeling much more accepting of it than in the past. Especially as one of my friends from high school got married this summer and, as she was the first to do so in my group of friends, it was a big leap for me mentally. But if there are perfect couples in the world, [action is eloquence] and her husband are it.
www.facebook.com/pages/J-May-Images/142770071996
Also, some time ago I was nominated for the Most Versatile Blogger award by MAG (many thanks for this!)
And I am thus-wise required to provide a list of 7 bloggers who are relatively new to blogging. I don't really have any, so I'm just providing the links to 7 blogs I really love:
So that's all for now. More updates coming soon, I think with school starting up again I'll have random stuff to yammer about. But if I'm not around, feel free to check out my other blog: Martin Freeman is not a hedgehog. Cheers!
I meant to write a post on this ages ago but never got around to it because... well, because of reasons. But I saw this Facebook post from my friend and former flute instructor [Mickie] and felt that I should definitely get around to writing this:
Let me give the back story on this: last year, [Mickie] lost her job at the local middle school she'd been working at since I'd first met her (and long before that too). Despite tenure, despite her obvious skill and talent, she lost her job along with my high school band teacher and choir directors. Aside from hating to see such talented people unfairly lose their jobs and having some of the strongest bonds to my hometown cut through, it was another warning sign of what's happening to music programs in the US. One hidden blessing from my failed audition to the School of Music at my university is that I don't have to worry about the difficulties of finding a job in that field, which are scarce and far between, even for people with a lot of experience.
But fortunately for [Mickie], she was able to find another job at a middle school in a nearby town. Sadly, she also lost this job this year due to, what else, budget issues and staff cutbacks. Because the fine arts are "expensive" and reap less benefits to a school district than, say, football, fine arts programs are the first to go.
Also, articles like this don't help. As if "determined by science" could mean anything here.
I hate it when people play the "art vs. science" card. They've been designed to be opposites for ages, even though they got together like peanut butter and Nutella (this is the best thing on the planet. Trust me). Art can't function without science and science can't function without art. Need proof of this? Take a look at your common household plant. Aesthetically, they've very pleasing; artists have been painting still lifes of flowers and plants for many a century. But plants are also scientifically brilliant, with their photosynthesis and fertilization structure. And did you know they can get fevers? (I learned that from a Snapple cap). Point is, there is no reason for anyone to argue that art and science don't work together.
But somewhere, somehow, the philosophy behind these two fields found themselves apposed and now we're in a war between the two of them, staking claims between what can be known and what can't, what is real and what isn't, what can be created and what can't. Really, I think it's all a communication issue. Because I mean, look at this:
This is the gene map of a plant called Arabidopsis. Sweet, right?
Okay, okay, so it's easy to find art in science. But what about science in art? Harder, admittedly, because certain kinds of science have tried to firmly drawn the line between what is actual science and what is... well, not. This was something my research methods class really shoved down our throats, which I think is fascinating considering my favorite parts of psychology are admittedly very unscientific. But look at any painting and you can see how visual perception and geometry and balance play vital roles. Music of course is highly based on physics. And acting... God, acting is a science of itself, doing a case study to figure out how another human being lives and become them on stage or screen.
http://nerdnirvana.org
I could meander on about the importance of arts but there's already this brilliant post on it. So read that, because it's really really good. It's a shame that things like subjects listed on Newsweek's Tumblr are thought of as useless because they were never useless to me. What surprises me are things like philosophy and architecture and history, for God's sake, and political science being useless. Really? Are you kidding me? When we have a million nurses and but no one understands how to communicate with each other or understand where we're coming from, don't say I didn't warn you. We need nurses, yes, but we also need them to understand bedside manner and the way people think and why, sometimes, you just need to sit back and think, "Jesus, a century ago we couldn't remove limbs without being terrified that the patient was going to die of gangrene and now we can do heart transplants. DUDE."
In order to really appreciate science, you need art. In order to really appreciate art, you need science. They aren't art war; they're two sides of the same coin. So stop making them fight - they belong together more than I think we'll ever completely understand. Give our artists and writers and thespians and historians a chance - you never know if they'll win a Nobel prize for physics or find the cure for cancer. And you never know if your med student is going to win a Pulitzer or and Grammy.
Generally I wouldn't write a blog post about this sort of thing, but perhaps it's best to get it off my chest than trying to avoid it. It's easier for me to work through writing anyway, so here it goes.
Back in early April, while my parents were coming back from a spring break trip to visit family in Indiana, my mom had a heart attack. Fortunately enough they were back in Minnesota when it hit and somehow (miraculously, perhaps) they were able to find a clinic to stop at, where she was airlifted to Abbot Heart Hospital. I'd never visited anyone in the hospital before this and it is the strangest feeling, especially when it is one of your parents. She had three stents placed in her heart and found has a heart condition that is hereditary (and
it's likely I have it too) called hypertropic cardiomyopathy that causes
higher risk of heart attacks (yes, I like using big words). It was really serious, really scary, and really shocking, but my mom made a completely recovery. I spent my Easter there, playing Clue with my parents and watching the Twins lose their season opener and, while it was a little strange, it was okay. My mother was doing really well and, with medication, diet, and cardio rehab, things were great.
Then over Memorial weekend, another completely unrelated event sent my
mom to the hospital. She had an umbilical hernia that was causing
blockage and she needed immediate surgery. Again, it was serious, it was
scary, and it was surprising, but she's out of the hospital as of
Saturday and doing just fine. It's all a bit of a shock, made all the more surprising by how few health problems we've had in our family before. Sure, we have a long history of health problems (I have a great uncle who died at 10 of a heart attack; if you look up stuff on the heart condition that my family has you'll understand why) but nothing that's immediately affected either of my parents. It's been kind of rough.
But I can't let it get me down. Things could be worse. I'm just so grateful that my mom is such a strong woman and has dealt with all this marvelously. She amazes me.
I have a confession to make. I am a total sci-fi fan.
Most of you probably already knew this. Or maybe you didn't. I did, I just never fully realized this until we watched Star Trek and Firefly in my television class. And I saw Thor with my parents (Oh. My. God. That movie was fantastic. Considering that Thor is the Avenger I know the least about, I was totally pleased and ecstatic about it).
http://www.comingsoon.net/
I think part of my lack of realization about this interest is that I was never really good at paying attention to genre. Did I care if there were spaceships and aliens intermingling with an interesting plot line? No, but it was certainly a nice perk. It has recently occurred to me that not everyone grew up watching Star Trek with their father and discussing how it capitulates the deeper philosophies of life. Not all kids read Tuck Everlasting 20 times in elementary school (this book is sci-fi/fantasy. A family that can live forever? Of course it is!) And a lot of people probably didn't read The Hobbit at age 10 and think it was fantastic but not actually understand what was going on until much later. Yes, I know that book is written more for children. Yes, I know that it shouldn't be that hard to understand. But I was terribly distracted by trying to fathom what a hobbit was because I'd never heard of them before. I was also ten and just because I had a good vocabulary didn't mean I was good at understanding plots (much to my dismay, my friend [X] read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings ridiculously young and knows a ridiculous amount about anything Tolkein. I don't know how she know is all... probably because she read The Silmarillion ages ago and I'm just now getting to it. Regardless, it's a little hard to talk about it with her because it ends up sort of insulting to intelligence. Just because I've been a bit slow on the uptake).
http://www.startrek.com/
I admit that I'm not familiar with sci-fi/fantasy that isn't pretty mainstream. I haven't read Dune, I haven't read Mercedes Lackey (like my "real" fantasy literature-reading friends). I also fail to clearly articulate the differences between science fiction and graphic novels, as expressed by my inclusion of Thor in this discussion. But it came to my attention during discussions of sci-fi shows in my television class that some people don't even like the mainstream stuff. Aliens weird some people out. Hurtling through space and time makes them uncomfortable. Discussion of faeries interwoven into modern day city-life gets looks of confusion. For some reason, I know way too much about pookas. And then I begin to realize that I did not learn this stuff in school, I didn't even learn it on TV. I learned it from reading a very particular sub-genre of books. One not everyone encounters.
My initial reaction was this:
(Oh, no; I just had this great and terrible vision of the rest of my life being comprised of nothing but lines of dialogue from Sherlock.)
But then it struck me why so many people might shy away from sci-fi/fantasy. To be honest, sometimes I do as well. And that's because of the Sy Fy channel and B movies. They have a lot of badly made, awkward sci-fi. If all you know about science fiction was that, you'd shy away from it too. Fortunately for me, I never saw Sy Fy channel until I was a teenager, so I was saved the trauma of having that as my first experiences with the genre.
I can understand why sci-fi may not be everyone's cup of tea; it takes some suspension of belief and an acceptance that weird shit may and can happen. After reading Phillip K. Dick, I accept that I like this. That fact that I was enjoying Radio Free Albemuth and not totally confused out of my mind I think shows that I've just developed a different taste for things that other people may not necessarily have. On that note, I'm going to go geek out about the new Star Trek movie and enjoy reading people's bets on who the villain will be.
Well, it's New Year's Eve. And you know what that means: resolutions. Usually for me this means going to a friend's house for a New Year's Party, feeling awkward, hearing everyone talk about how they feel overweight and how their resolutions for next year are to loose weight and find their soul mate, and then feeling like a douche when you make a witty or personal resolution.
You can see why I'd be a little reluctant to make my own. But I'm going to. Because I know what I'm capable of and what I want. And I know what I want to challenge myself to do. It's not going to be anything simple or petty or what I think people want to hear or what my insecurities make me think. It's going to be legit :D So here we go.
1) Work Out: I don't mean loose weight. At all. I don't need to loose weight, goddammit. That said, I would like to feel more fit. I can't help wanting to get rid of my love handles and maybe feeling like I could be a ninja, work for Torchwood, or survive a zombie apocalypse (or at least, you know, run without hurting my pathetically weak ankles). Namely, I want to feel more bad-ass and build some more self-esteem. So gym time it is.
2) No more putdowns directed at myself: There are enough people out there putting me down each day without me needing to do it myself. I don't know where this whole negativism thing started (Catholic school humbleness gone wrong, too many friends who've ditched me, too many friends who have insecurities themselves and reverse it by slamming me) but there's no use for it. There's no reason to blame myself for things THAT WEREN'T MY FAULT. I know what my faults are. And they don't need to be over-analyzed or blamed all the time.
3) Write a goddamn novel: Self-explanatory. I've got two started right now. If I can finish at least one (not totally finish, but get an end and a solid draft) I will be pretty damn proud of myself.
4) Be What I Am: I'm already doing pretty well this but, you know, it doesn't hurt to remind myself to stick with it :)
So Happy New Years, world - I'm gonna sign off and eat some tacos and drink some champagne. See you in 2012!
Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.
That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.
http://freethoughtblogs.com
This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...
Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).
But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.
Today I found out that David Shouse, one of my dad's closest friends and former bosses, died. He had ALS and was predicted by doctors to die years ago - but he didn't. He had one of the greatest attitudes of anyone I've ever met, even after he was confined to a wheelchair and was paralyzed from the neck down. I hadn't seen him for a few years, but I knew that he was nearly completely paralyzed and unable to speak. My dad did send this email to me on November 10th that David had sent out:
Well, a 5 day hospital turned into 19
days in ICU and acute care. Patti [his wife] lived there for over a week,
reading my lips for the staff, checking the meds they gave me and
learning about the ventilator system.
We are now home and it is much better.
Patti does a great job handling all aspects of the vent. Courtney [his daughter] was
also trained so she can provide some backup when she is available. We
will have to find someone to help on a regular basis so Patti can go
to the store, etc.
It was a bit overwhelming at first. Our
routines are complicated by having to maneuver all the vent gear
without unplugging something, like my breathing tubes! Check the
attached photo for an idea of all the new stuff. Day by day, we are
figuring it out.
Courtney was on fall break, so she
stayed with us when we first got home. Patti's brother, George, then
came from DC for over a week. He was a huge help in figuring out
solutions. He got my computer to mount on my chair, plus a dozen
other household chores that were long overdue.
All in all, we are making progress.
Patti is very good at reading my lips, that's a good thing because we
decided yesterday that I will not get the type of trach that allows
me to speak. I don't have enough air volume available in my lungs. Oh
well....
all for now, (this took me 3 days to
type!).
david
I cried when is saw this. Partly out of sadness that such a good man could be so ill. And partly because he's one of the most incredible people I've ever met. To be this positive in such a situation is mind-blowing.
My parents and I had literally just been talking about him
over my birthday or Thanksgiving. Without David, what my life is now
wouldn't be possible. Seriously. He was the one who offered the job to
my dad that brought us to Minnesota and changed everything. I know it
may sound strange, but in a sort of butterfly affect way, this one little thing really did change my entire life. By moving here, I went to a different school, got a better education, decided to go to college, had the chance for so many different opportunities (musically, academic, travel) that I would have never gotten otherwise. One small thing made all the difference.
And while my heart is breaking that this wonderful, fantastic man is gone from our world, I want to just thank him for everything he did for me and my family. It really means a lot to me, and he will be missed greatly.
I'm not road-tripping anywhere for Thanksgiving, but if I was, this would be my theme song. One of my favorites - and I just heard in O'Donnoavan's last week. I could ramble on about all the multitudes of things that I've been blessed with this year, but instead I'm just going to post this song. For some reason, it says more than my words can. In short, let's just say I'm thankful for everything.
The other night in campus band rehearsal, our very adorable student teacher told us about the background of one of the pieces we're playing - "Polly Oliver." It's based off an English folk song, about a girl who disguises herself as a man and joins the military. However, while serving, a captain - her love, is injured and she nurses him back to health. The doctor remarks, "You have cherished him as if you were his wife." And our student teacher read us the last stanza of the song:
O then Polly Oliver, she burst into tears
And told the good doctor her hopes and her fears,
And very shortly after, for better or for worse,
The captain took joyfully his pretty soldier nurse.
CUTEST SONG EVER. I liked the piece before - it's so beautiful and I'm an absolute sucker for folk songs. And now, knowing the story it's based off of, I absolutely love it.
You can check out the full song lyrics at this Wikipedia link.
And what is it with girls falling in love with captains? Oh yeah, that's why... ;)
Last night, I participated in an event I intended to brag about, as only a culture vulture can - I attended the world premiere of a new opera. Silent Night is a new work based off of the French movie by the same name, about the seize fire in World War I held over the Christmas of 1914. It's about the French, Scottish and German forces in this battle who came together over this holiday and found peace amongst the chaos of war.
Honestly, the Minnesota Opera couldn't have chosen a better night to premiere it than the day after Veterans Day. It was absolutely fantastic to see all of the service men and women in their dress uniforms at the show - it added an added element of importance and significance to the event.
Now, when it comes to opera, I'm very wet behind the ears. I've actually only been to the opera once before and all I know about the art form comes from my combined knowledge of musical training and Italian. That's not to say I know NOTHING about opera - I know a bit. I'm just not an aficionado. Broadway shows will always be my preferred form of musical theater, but this show certainly gave me a new appreciation for opera. The scenery, the storyline, the portrayal itself - it was all brilliant. Karin Wolverton, the soprano who played Anna Sorensen, sang wonderfully and performed an absolutely marvelous aria towards the end of the first act - it was truly my favorite part of the show.
Unfortunately, the tenor who sang the part of Nikolaus Sprink, William Burden, contracted laryngitis the day of the show and couldn't sing. So, while he walked the stage, a former resident of the Opera, Brad Benoit (an audience favorite, it seemed) sang offstage. It was a little odd to see someone acting and having the voice reverberating from stage left, but it worked. The two worked well together and, while I feel dreadfully sorry that Burden couldn't sing for the premiere, I'm glad he was still able to perform the part.
Being able to attend a world premiere still boggles my mind. Walking in and seeing the spotlights shining into the night sky outside, seeing a group of kilted bagpipers walk outside to perform for the arriving audience, being surrounded by people impeccably dressed (more so than any other theater show I've attended) and hearing accents of those who had traveled a long way to see a premiere all emphasized that this was a special night in Twin City theater. But what really hit home for me was the singing of the national anthem at the beginning of the show. Afterwards, [Львица] turned to me and said, "That was the best I've ever sung in my life... I feel like I was a part of the opera there." I felt exactly the same.
I finally saw La Cage Aux Folles at the State Theater last night.
OH. MY. GOD. I LOVED IT. LOVEDLOVEDLOVEDLOVEDLOVED IT.
There's a trick to going to Broadway shows, I've learned. - walk in there knowing the bare minimum about the show. That makes it SO much more exciting. Like Cabaret, which was my favorite musical (up until now) - I knew very little about it walking in. I didn't connect that, even thought it was Berlin in the 1930s, there would be Nazis in it. So when they showed up, I was like, "Holy shit." The plot twists are also a lot more spectacular without knowing the whole show. Which just makes it fun in general.
So I walked into La Cage Aux Folles knowing that it was about a gay couple in the 1960s, one of who owns a nightclub where men perform dressed as women. And that my most favorite Broadway song of all time is in it (which I'll post below, even thought it's elsewhere on this blog. But this version is sung by John Barrowman, so naturally I could post it a thousand times and never grow sick of it):
What I didn't know is that IT'S THE BEST BROADWAY SHOW I'VE EVER SEEN. Seriously. It is. Albin is the cutest, most wonderful, most interesting character I've seen onstage ever. And the actor who played him, Christopher Sieber, was PHENOMENAL. And he's from Minnesota. So yeah, win-win. Plus the storyline is just so... emotional. And kind of personal. Like, I didn't realize that "I am what I am" was sung right after Albin is told by Georges that who he is isn't what their son Jean-Michel wants around to meet his to-be in-laws. I cannot even fathom how painful that must be. I'm generally moved to tears by the performance of this song, but I definitely teared up big-time last night seeing it live. And kudos to me for sending it to [uber gay] when his family told him to change himself around relatives and he was totally upset. I made the perfect connection without even realizing it.
This show is just so.... feel-good. Much more so than Cabaret, which is probably why La Cage has now replaced it as my favorite (sorry, Cabaret, you're wonderful, but you're just kind of a downer). I mean, I walked out of there feeling on top of the world, feeling great about myself and feeling great about entire world and just wanted to run out and start volunteering for the HRC or the No H8 campaign or something (I would be already, except a little something called school has gotten in the way). But now I have serious motivation to do so. I mean, four... okay, five, because FINALLY we learned that one of our friends from high school, [save the panzer], is gay - so five of my closest friends are gay. So it's kind of a personal topic for me. And I'm beginning wonder if I can't identify as a gay man in a straight woman's body (okay, queer theorists of the world, is this possible? I seem to have a thing for gay men, but I'm a straight woman? Or am I just a straight woman with unlucky taste? How exactly would I discern if I act somewhat like a gay man? How would you know? How would anyone know? What if all women are just gay men in women's bodies? Whoa, that's going a tad bit too far... And this is one hell of a tangent...).
Barrowman... heels... sparkles... I am both envious and a little turned on. What the hell does that mean?!
Meanwhile, back at the ranch... As a perfect way to end the evening, we went to The Saloon, a popular gay bar in the area. Despite the fact that it got some bad reviews from the people we went to the Gay 90s with last year, it was nicer than the 90s. And they played sweet music. And had some nice Halloween decorating. And damn, boy - [save the panzer] can dance. And I realized I LIKE CLUBBING. At least at gay bars. Well, it was great until a strange man older than my father asked me if I wanted to dance. Then it got a bit weird. Otherwise, a great way to end the night.
I just can't get over how good this show was. Like, I went out to dinner tonight with my parents and it was all I could to keep from talking about it the entire time. Why did I like it so damn much? A brief analysis:
1) IT WAS AMAZING. Fantastic costumes, choreography, comedy, romance - it tour de force of Broadway excellence. No matter what Star Tribune said: screw you guys. I hate your website anyway. Although you were right about George Hamilton.
2) It made me proud to be a woman. Yes, a show about gay men made me proud to be a woman. Why? Well, when I was younger, I was terrified to be girly. I didn't think it fit my personality, I felt like people judged me for wanting to be girly - like they just thought I'd be another dumb appearance-absorbed chick (not to mention I was friends with some girls who either didn't care about how they looked. At least they pretended to not care), and I didn't think a lot of feminine clothes would fit my not super-skinny, somewhat-boyish frame. Somewhere between high school and college I decided, "Fuck that shit," and went all out for girly clothes. Like dresses. And heels. OH MY GOD. Do I love wearing heels, no matter what [X] or anyone else says. Heels make you feel like the shit. Ones you can walk in and still look hot? They rule. They make you feel like you can kick total ass. Anyway, my point is, seeing men wear heels and having them totally understand that it takes a bit of still to stay afloat in those babies makes you feel... well, understood. Seeing men totally rocking sequins and feathers and sparkles and all the things women are supposed to like but often get made fun of for liking - well, it was damn nice to see men looking great in them, relating to women, and being their own person, being so comfortable with their own bodies. It made me feel glad to have worn heels and made me feel way less self-conscious dancing at The Saloon later. I could go into a bunch of theories as why this might be, but I don't need theories right now. I'm just glad it had that effect.
One of the reasons why this IS a gay anthem is the fact that it helped
give us a sense of pride in the eighties at a time when thousands and
thousands of our friends and lovers were being wiped away by AIDS. Half
of the original Broadway cast of La Cage had died before the show ended
its run in 1987. And the composer Jerry Herman himself found out that he
was infected as well. This is 'lump in the throat' music for me and
always will be. Thank you George, thank you Jerry. Thank you so much.
This is mind-blowing to me. Half of the original cast DIED?! That is so terribly, terribly sad. I guess you could say the effect of this show was like the Rent of the 1980s. And now I feel like it wouldn't be a bad time for people my age to see this show, especially given the bullying directed towards GLBT youth. Especially since it's so upbeat. An "It Gets Better" campaign before "It Gets Better" campaigns? For the win, La Cage, for the win.
So, anyway, the take home message: see the show. But enough of me talking about the show - why not have John Barrowman, who starred in one of the revivals, tell you about it? (Trust me, it's worth it :D)
This is Sid. And because of Sid, the fact that I can't sleep just got way less important. Seriously, I just heard Beirut on David Letterman, which was a nice perk. And then the first thing I see on The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson is Sid. Who is the best.
You see, Craig Ferguson for reasons unknown to me likes using puppets sometimes to start off his show. And Sid is my personal favorite. He looks cute, cuddly, and adorable. His voice apparently sounds a bit like David Beckham. And he's from South London and swears like a sailor. The paradoxical relationship between cute, cuddly toy and swearing, rabid creature is wonderful. Especially when you've just realized that lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and crying and feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of your time and, as it is conveniently 11:30 pm Central time, you might as well get up and watch your favorite show. And thus, my insomnia was rewarded by Sid. Thank you, Craig Ferguson and writers of CBS, for understanding my insomnia to a T. Even the theme song says it all...
I was just about to sit down and listen to my iTunes and procrastinate on Blogger about thirty minutes ago when my dad texted me and told me that Steve Jobs had died. Suddenly, I was sitting there with my computer at my wrists, crying for a man I'd never met.
Steve Jobs means a lot to me. He always seemed like the different guy in the tech world. His products were cooler, trendier and better working. He took the risk of making products that cost more in order to appeal to a more elegant, eye-pleasing, better-functioning machine. Take the computer I'm using right now - a MacBook I've had for five years, at least, and it runs GREAT. No problems (unless it involves using Microsoft. But we all know why those issues exist). Apple is just incredible, especially with their phones and music devices. Where would we be without the iPod? Heck, even [shortage of perfect breasts], who's a computer science major, wants an iPhone - and she usually spouts Dells as the best computers in the world.
Steve Jobs changed the tech world - no doubt. His devices helped me overcome the belief that computers were weird, complicated devices that I would never figure out. This coinciding with something else I've decided tonight gives an extra oomph to how much of a part Apple computers play in my life. And though this probably seems like really rambling bullshit - which it is, because I'm still overcoming the flu, a little stressed, and grieved - I just wanted to take a moment to think reflect on a great man, before all the news channels start ask about what's next for Apple and people like [novel killer] say stuff that will piss me off. Right now I want a little bit of the sacred, a little moment of silence from a nobody who's life has been forever changed by this man. Thank you, Steve Jobs. Thank you for everything. You will be sorely missed. RIP.
I once again spent my night in a place I wouldn't exactly consider my scene - a casino. But not for gambling, no, not for that. Instead, I saw a comedy show featuring Craig Ferguson, a FANTASTIC Scottish comedian who hosts "The Late Late Show" on CBS and was on 'The Drew Carey Show." It was basically a dream come true, as I have been dying to see him since about... oh, junior year of high school? I have long believed that he is the funniest man in the universe. And this show reaffirmed this belief.
The show opened with a guy named Randy Kagan, who was super funny. Not as funny as Craig, but still fantastic in his own right. Then Craig Ferguson... ah, Craig Ferguson. If you can survive a rough Glaswegian childhood and alcoholism and still be this goddamn happy and funny, then you, my friend, are AMAZING. I just don't know how he does it. He starts off with a topic, then goes off on this tangent and, by the end of the show, he's back to where he started. It's incredible. And you're laughing so hard the entire time your sides ache. This guy can tell you a story about drinking 12 pints of Guinness and then taking acid and, while being completely honest about the situation, still make it humorous without sugar coating anything. I've heard comedy called tragedy plus someone that's not you, but I think maybe there's something a little bit deeper than that to really good humor. Something more sincere and emotional.
But whatever, I'm getting way too Oprah here. The point is, I had a not-so-great week. I kept feeling clumsy and exhausted and insecure and finally, FINALLY I feel good again. Somewhere between the jokes about Hitler having a nice ass because of goose-stepping and the bits about how Ren Fests aren't authentic because people have all of their teeth, all the little petty things that bothered me throughout the week evaporated. I'm laughing too hard at Canadian jokes and Craig Ferguson playfully making fun of himself that suddenly, nothing else matters. Douchey landlord? Bah. Awkward social life? Whatever. Being mostly unemployed and having no idea what to do with my life? Not important. Craig Ferguson making me laugh so hard I'm crying? NOTHING ELSE MATTERS.
That's right, bitch - I know I'm funny
Humor for the win. I highly recommend watching this guy. Like, right now. Get off this blog watch him on Youtube, and laugh your ass off. And if you don't laugh... well, I can't help you there. But tell you what - I'll give you two videos for the price of one: one of my old favs and a random one I just came across. Not the same as seeing him live. But it'll do, it'll do.
