Wish list

My mother claims that I'm impossible to buy gifts for. Given that my birthday is coming up I figured I'd do a blog on what I want this birthday. Oh, for the record they are in no particular order.

-- Toothless the Dragon. Seriously. I want Toothless as a pet. Isn't he cool? He flies. And he has a cute attitude. As long as he doesn't make me take a bite of raw fish we're perfect for each other.

--Flat in England, I miss it every day. I just want to go back... forever.

-- Hot British Boyfriend. Need I say more? I think not.

--Ability to walk in high-heels without being an insurance hazard to myself and others.

-- A Timeturner. With one of these I could sleep and get my homework done.

-- My sisters' shopping skills. Both always look so put together.

-- I. Want. To. Go. To. NARNIA. But I don't think my mom will get me this because A. I am well aware it is fictional. B. I would never come back.

Being Human the BBC version provided a great deal of entertainment these last two semesters. True there is now an American version of the same show. I have never seen it. I am sure it is good—but I’m just saying when I have a choice and one actor playing the lead has an Irish accent I tend to choose that option.
The premise is simple—four undead friends try to live as humanly as possible. They try to keep their conditions under control and in the process their stories beg the questions “what is it to be human?” After all Mitchell is a vampire, his best friend George is a werewolf, and Annie is a ghost. This show forces its audience to consider that perhaps humanity isn’t limited to species; but, is instead based on character. However this theme is woven in artfully, it supports the story, but does not indulge in preaching.

Mitchell is a vampire who with a shady—no horrific—history. But he is not off blood and trying to get his friends to follow suit. He is constantly at odds because he wants to remain in touch with the vampire community. These people are his friends and the only ones who truly understand his condition. They are not bad people. But they are killers. Just like he was, and occasionally still is. Despite all his faults he has to believe that he has the ability to overcome his hunger. He wants to be defined by who he is and not his impulses.

George is a werewolf, a nerd, religious, a good cook and incredibly socially awkward. However he is the most supportive member of the cast. His principles are solid and his beliefs have not altered because of his condition. When Mitchell does not trust the world George does not trust himself. He is the backbone of the crew. His kind nature means that he is often taken advantage of by both his friends and his enemies.

Annie is ghost who has been all alone until she meets up with Mitchell and George. She is kind and fun. But unlike the other characters she is too trusting and too forgiving. Because of these traits she is dead. Her character develops from self conscious and desperate to please to ambitious and uncompromising.

Nina may just be my personal favorite. She has been the victim of a series of painful relationships. She was abused by her parents and at least one previous partner. She is angry and unforgiving. But then she meets George who is kind, funny and would do anything for her. She finds life is better with him. But then he is a werewolf. Everything she believed before is true; someone like him was too good to be true. So, does she risk everything again and go for the man she loves or protect herself. (She doesn't have quite as big a part so she doesn't get a cool promo pic.)

This story is more effective given the demographic of the characters. They are all in their early twenties. Or at least were in their early twenties before they became ageless and technically life-less. But the similarities between the average undead and the average young adult are quiet striking.
1. The struggle to find a significant other who understands you.
2. Parents—getting them let go
3. Ex- partners
4. Old friends with bad habits—it’s a tough lesson but you’re not saving them. They’re damning you.
The list could go on.
The writing is good—as with any TV script there are the occasional holes, but not enough to distract from the strengths of the story. The acting is excellent. The characters who are supposed to be in love have great chemistry and the ones at conflict with one another have enough emotion to back up their motives that nothing feels forced.
My last two points are personal. Firstly the language and the life styles of this series are for mature audiences only. Secondly we have been seeing the family picked apart a great deal in so much of our entertainment choices. I was so grateful to see that in this series the desire to have children and to be a parent was strong motivation to these characters. Some people might say that because the couple expecting child were not married is proof that this series is just as bad as any other. But I didn’t see that. I don’t feel the need for every character to uphold my exact moral views before I see the truth in what they are doing. I like that in this story a romance was a beginning that is led to something bigger instead of insinuating that parenthood is a boring and a waste of ambition.
I liked the show. Undead characters, British humor, complicated love/hate triangles and moral ambiguity.

The thrill and the horror

I wanted to do a quick piece on auditioning. It’s a complicated experience for an actor. On the one hand it is a chance to prove yourself—it’s basically a chance for you to perform. But it’s also very nerve wrecking. You have essentially under a minute to prove to these people that you are the actor they are after. You have to give it your all—knowing that there is at least a 95% chance that you won’t get it.
This week my school held auditions for Oedipus. The director is a man I have worked with before. The play is amazing. I wanted a part.
So I found a heart wrenching classic Greek monologue and prepared it.
Despite my best efforts to slow time down the night of the auditions finally arrived. My roommates very patiently dealt with my roller-coaster emotions. “I don’t even want a part. I don’t have time for this. I’m taking eighteen credits. I shouldn’t even audition.” “If I don’t audition I will just feel like a wimp. There is no way I’m getting in, but I guess I’ll still try out.” “Who am I kidding I haven’t acted in over a year!” “Which color scarf should I wear?” “Which shoes should I wear?”
One roommate was even supportive enough to put the dinner she was making—gourmet Mac and cheese-- on hold and do my make up for me. It was amazing and really helped me feel relaxed because 1. I felt pretty. 2. I didn’t feel like me. The way she did my makeup was a way I have never done before and it was easier to look at myself in the mirror and see not Madison but Ismene.
After my outfit was picked… my hair and make-up was done I went to my room and turned up Enya really loud. I choose Enya because I figured she wouldn’t annoy my roommates. Then with the music blaring I practiced my mono. I pushed myself. I screamed. I yelled. Now you see why I used the music… I didn’t want to subject my roommates to that.
But I needn’t have worried; when I went to leave they had already left to rent a movie. (I found out later that they picked enough—you the one where Jennifer Lopez is beaten up by her husband until she has “enough” and kills him. Just so you know. Yes we are sick.)
So… I made my lonely way to the theatre building. I had planned to be there about twenty minutes early so I could be one of the first to audition. That didn’t happen. I got there and had to watch a bunch of fabulously talented other actors go first.
Then I heard the director say my name. I made my long walk up to the stage and delivered my mono. I felt good about it. I projected. I didn’t hold back. I followed impulses.
When I finished my friends told me I did a good job. But seriously—your friends always say you did a good job. Maybe I need new friends… ones who will tell me when I’m crap.
So my friend and I walked home, wondering if God rolls his eyes at prayers for actors. He probably thinks “You think your audition is hard? I have thousands of children in Africa and other countries suffering genocide and starvation.”
The callbacks weren’t posted until 2pm the next day.
Can you appreciate how long a wait that is!!!!!! My day begins at three thirty in the morning. I was up for almost 12 hours before even knowing how my precious Friday night would be spent.
So I sat in class convincing myself I didn’t care. I was too busy for a part. But I did a good job. I hate call backs. Well they are usually pretty fun. But I’m tired… I don’t want to go back tonight. AAHHH!!!
My last class ended and I bolted across campus to the snow building—where the theatre and music departments are housed. All the way there I was thinking about what a cruel system auditioning is. First you go spill your heart in front of a bunch of other actors who are more talented and have more experience than you do. If that wasn’t enough then you had to go read a list to see if your name was on it. Also reading this list will be all those more-talented/more-experienced people. You will have to elbow your way through these brilliant people to even see the list and when your name isn’t there they will just look at your pityingly like they really thought you had a chance and they can’t believe the mean director didn’t cast you. While in reality they are thinking “sweet-heart find a new hobby.”
I finally got to the building and approached the double glass doors. Before entering I checked to make sure there were none of the said more-talented/more-experienced people around. Then I realized two things. One there weren’t any m.-t./m.-e. In my direct vision but I couldn’t see very much into the lobby. Two however what I could see in my limited view included the bulletin board. On which as posted a call-back list on which… was my name.
I threw open the doors and read the list again and again. It was my name. I’d made call backs.
I was grinning like an idiot when I started to choke up. What was I thinking!!!! I didn’t have time to do this!!!! This would mean possibly dropping my screen writing class—possibly one of the only things I’m actually good at!!!
I went the callbacks and saw several friends/ acquaintances. The thing about the theatre is that it makes friends or at least allies for you. I am either close to a lot of these people because we have done previous shows together. Even those of us who did not know each other were joking, picking each other up, dancing and chatting.
All this ended abruptly when the director* walked in. All at once the room went silent. This man walks in and an entire room of theatre geeks stops talking and sits down and folds their arms like they are in church. That is a superpower.
He realized we were all mutely watching him. “Keep talking, I’m listening to the gossip.” He instructed. All of a sudden I found I had nothing to say. This rarely happens to me. Usually if I’m not speaking it’s because I don’t want to. Not because I don’t have a clue what to say.
A few moments later I still hadn’t found anything to say, and The Director called the meeting to order: “As many of you can see there are many people you auditioned with last night are not here. I am glad that you are here. You are here because I saw something I could use in our production of Oedipus. That being said, I was very disappointed in what I saw last night. I know that all of you can and have done better than what you gave me last night. What I saw last night made me want to retire. I thought, ‘Ah it’s happened. No one listens to the old man anymore.’ So please, please to better tonight.”
So basically we only made callbacks because we were slightly less-crappy than the other kids? Great. Besides, he says he has seen us all do better? Well, I killed myself in that mono… if that wasn’t enough maybe I should just leave now…
The first assignment he gave us was a series of movement exercises. Walking across the stage in a slight dance routine. Fun, except I haven’t danced in forever. FOREVER. Then he has this little drum that he uses to keep tempo. It is actually pretty stressful do a dance while he pounds on his drum. Then when we finished he would say “Again, FASTER.” And hit the drum faster.
Then he assigned the girls on monologue and the boys another. We each had a few minutes to read the lines of the Messenger—if a girl—or the Priest of Zeus if a boy.
One of my friends got herself so into it that her hands sized up. It was creepy. But she used it and her mono. was wicked good.
I was pretty pleased with my mono. I used the stage, I screamed, acted hysterical, pulled all the stops just like the particular director that I don’t want to name is always telling me to do.
Then we had all done a reading and said director explained “The cast list will be up at about ten thirty. Have a good evening.”
My friend who had had her hands seize up on her… well I wasn’t going to let her walk home alone, and she does live in my complex. On the way home though we and another friend from my Tech. theatre class decided we couldn’t very well wait home and then go to the cast list. We wanted to be around people who understood. So we went to a local “Mexican”—in the loosest sense of the word—restaurant and hung out until the cast list was up.
We arrived at the cast list—most our cast-mates he beaten us there— and were all thrilled to see our names. I was a suppliant and an attendant to the queen. There were hugs, congratulations, and “I’m so excited to work with you”’s all around. I called my mom even though it was midnight where she was and told her the good news. She said congrats. and that she knew I’d get it.
Then we all realized that we were expected to be at rehearsal tomorrow and we all said “see you tomorrow!!!!!” excitedly and hurried home for a few hours of homework and sleep.

Take it like an artist

I'm an artist. I associate with a lot of other artists. One thing that has recently been bothering me is how whiny my comrades are.

The arts are not for sissies so don't act like one. Remember that the arts are an industry with 90% unemployment rate. For every writer, visual artist, dancer, actor, singer, photographer, musician who gets the gig there are literally thousands who don't. When you commit to be an artist you commit to spend you fair share of time being the among the thousands in the slush pile. I agree it is discouraging.

I have been thinking about this a lot lately and in a spur of frustration finalized the following philosophy.

There are several ways to deal with the inevitable rejection.

1. Whine. Go on and on about how the judges were racist. How they were sexist. How they just hate fantasy writers. How they just didn't understand your style. How they were just promoting their friends. Her dad is on the on the theatre board and she can't even act ect. Life isn’t fair. Being an artist is competitive. Get over it.

2. Accept it. Sometimes this is the best option. Sometimes her dad is the on the theatre board just so she gets the parts she wants. Sometimes the lead actor is shorter than you. Sometimes there were 456 other girls auditioning and you just didn’t get in. Sometimes. In these cases you can’t do anything. So remind yourself how long it was until J.K. Rowling was published or go do whatever it is that re-inspires you and just keep trying.

3. Take it professionally. Ask yourself why you didn’t get the gig and answer honestly. You say they were helping their friends? It makes sense. People like their friends. The arts are just like any other business—the strength of weak ties still applies. So, make your own friends in the arts. They might help you professionally. Or they might give you company while you are both struggling in the same fight. You win either way. They were biased against your genre? Okay, so why not send the same piece into a journal geared toward that genre. They didn’t understand your style? Or was it maybe because you weren’t prepared for the audition and what you call your stylistic interpretation is what you are hiding behind because you can’t remember your lines? Ask yourself what that other girl has that you don’t and answer honestly. Then take a deep breath and force yourself to make improvements where necessary.

In conclusion there are many times in the arts or in life when you will be over looked and passed by. So learn from them if you can. It’s hard. Heaven knows I am just as self—pitying as the next artist… but as in any industry the more you know the more advantage you have. So learn your lessons wherever you can.

This semester I am living with a girl who was also on the British Literary Tour. Pretty much all we talk about is reminiscing about our experiences a few months ago.
A couple nights ago we decided to watch the Keira Knightly Mathew Macfaden (sorry peeps for spelling your names wrong) Pride and Predjudice while we did our homework. Our logic was that it had classical music in it and classical music stimulates the mind; so we would do our homework better.
For my part it actually worked. I got all but two of my Russian problems done and I wouldn’t haven been able to crack the other two in any case.
Anyway. We were at the part where Elizabeth goes away with her aunt and uncle. She is tratsing over the lovely country side and Megan and I begin to wonder aloud if she was in The Lake District. I was pretty sure she was, I thought I remembered from the dialogue that that was where they ended up but I don’t remember.
Anyway, whether or not Elizabeth was in The Lake District my roommate and I were off. We drowned out the beautiful dialogue between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy when they meet at Pemberly because we were too busy saying things like “The rocks and the trees!” “The colors were prefect” “It was seriously one of the most beautiful places on earth!” “It was one of my favorite places that we went!” “I want to live there!”

But in all honesty The Lake District was lovely.
We were only there a day (I think) we went to Wordsworth homes. His family home that most of his life in, dove cottage, and his new home that he went to after he was more established. I can’t remember the name of that one.
I must confess that I have never read much of Wordsworth. This is nothing against Wordsworth. I actually don’t read that much poetry. I know, stone me now. But I just haven’t explored it.
But I still loved learning about Wordsworth and his family. They almost never bathed. The would use the same water to wash their faces that had been in the washing bowl for days. It was considered unhealthy to take the layer of grease off your face.
But on a serious note they took abolision seriously. They kept their own bees so they could produce honey so they didn’t have to contribute to the sugar trade. Dedication.
Also the garden at the new house was one just lovely. It was huge and kinda rambling, it was like a nature art.
It had little walks everywhere.
And little places to sit.

Then we proceeded to Beatrix Potter’s house; Hilltop Cottage. Beatrix Potter played a major part in my childhood. My parents bought me the complete set for Christmas when I was about three. I lost a couple but I still have most of them.
When I was older and found out more about her personal life I was even more impressed with her. She was committed to making the world a better place. She did that with her art and her activism. She was committed to nature. She bought land surrounding her home so that it couldn’t be industrialized.
Well, I have to study for my Russian and Theatre test and a Tech. Theatre presentation. So in conclusion I loved the Lake District. I am going back, sometime after I’ve finished my homework.

Kingdom Reveiw

I’m an English Major with a Theatre Minor. So my first reaction after seeing something is to analyze it and in extreme cases, write about it.
Okay, recently I found a TV series that had an ensemble cast of actors I respected. I decided to try it out.
The series beings with Stephen Fry’s character, Peter Kingdom. He is a lawyer in a small town. He has never married. He has no children. We learn through the course a quick dialogue in the first fifteen minutes that Peter makes a habit of visiting his aunt in an assisted living home. That he took care of his late father during his dying days, worsened with his father’s Alzheimer’s. Peter has two younger, half-siblings: Simon who recently disappeared, and Beatrice, who is mentally ill, has practiced substance abuse, and shuffles from one institution to another.
We care about this man. He sacrifices for his family. This is noble of him; his nobility of spirit is increased when we see that it appears no one appreciates the sacrifices he makes out of love.

The second character we really care about is his secretary, Gloria, played by Celia Imrie . Gloria is kind and quiet. She is a single mother, her husband passed away a year ago. Peter is the only thing holding the ring of characters together, but Gloria is the only one who appreciates what he does and supports him in it. She holds Peter together.
The character we love in spite of ourselves is Beatrice, Peter’s half sister. She is played by Hermione Norris, who steals almost every scene. Beatrice is often used as the foil for Peter’s character, because in many ways she is his complete opposite. Beatrice’s behavior is completely not understood by the other characters or by most rational human beings. She has the emotional maturity of the average eight year old. When she is upset with Peter or Gloria she lashes out by stealing their possessions, vandalizing their property and throwing temper tantrums. No one knows if this behavior is because of Beatrice’s mental and emotional illness and a reaction to her brother Simon’s disappearance… or because it is simply how she gets what she wants.

Then there is Simon. The half brother of Peter and the brother of Beatrice. He is missing presumed dead. He was last seen walking out into the sea. Peter goes every day to the beach he was last seen in a vain hope that remains or a clue will wash up. The abandonment that Peter and Beatrice feel and struggle to hide is heart breaking. As the series progresses the Peter and Beatrice learn that they didn’t know their brother as well as they thought. He owed money to a mob, he fathered a child. He ran away from these problems and from them. He left them. But not matter what they uncover about their wayward brother they still forgive him, and wish that he had somehow allowed them to help him.
We care about these characters and themes. We have all have people, or want to have people; we would give anything to and do anything for. These are often the people we feel the most unappreciated or least understood by. We all feel lonely. We all feel abandoned. We all have people in our lives that we will… against our better judgment and past experience forgive for anything.

But the show loses what makes it so beautiful about half way through the second season. This happens for several reasons.
Firstly Simon is not only alive, but he returns. He takes advantage of Peter and Beatrice’s love and forgiveness at every turn. While we sympathize with the ideal doing anything for a brother, no matter how wayward when we see Beatrice and Peter lay down so Simon can step on them we feel resentment. Not at Simon for being cruel, but at the other two for being so gullible and stupid. Traits they never have in any other situation. The writers neglect to let us see, even for a moment, the Simon that Peter and Beatrice love. These two siblings love their brother unconditionally, we need to see why. We need to see the redeeming qualities that blind them against all his faults.

Gloria begins to go out with the town quack. I think this was done in an attempt at comic relief, but it fell flat. These two characters had not motivation towards to begin a relationship with one another. When their relationship begins the viewers are confused.

Another choice made that distracted from the theme was Lyle; Peter’s assistant. In the beginning of the series Lyle is funny and caring. He isn’t always motivated, and isn’t always hard working. In fact through much of the first season Peter wants to strangle him. But he cares for the

underdog and fights tooth and nail once he finds a battle. But then his character becomes watered down to a post grad boy who is (how does one say this diplomatically) is looking for an easy hook-up.

So what started out as a series that probed into the complex, tangled, beautiful relationships between families and friends. About sacrifice, love, difficult choices and hope against all odds. However the series ends with themes of half finished thoughts and actors treading water against a script that has lost its edge.
Am I being to judgmental? Possibly. I can recommend the first season of this series without reserve. The second and third series still have golden moments; I simply wish they pulled heart strings as skillfully as the first season.

Confessions....

So, confessions.
I just got my driver’s license. Just. As in a matter of hours ago.
Yes, I am twenty two.
I have it now, so shut up.
However, I would like to explain:
I hate driving. Bad things happen in cars.
I have never liked cars. When I was a kid I had nightmares about them. I was convinced that I would die being hit by a car.
Now that I have grown up I realize that this is pretty unlikely. I have learned that the chances of my face going through the windshield are much more likely.
So yes, cars freak me out.
There are lots of things that freak out other people that don’t scare me.
I fly all the time. I have even flown internationally and not been phased.
But I hate driving.
I don’t mind moving. I have moved many times in my life. New homes are fine… new churches, new schools, new friends, new jobs Ok. In fact…
But I hate driving.
I like acing. I’m a theater minor. Auditions aren’t exactly comfortable situations… but they are also exciting. A final for one of my acting classes required me to play a woman on trial for possibly killing her own child. While this was not easy… I was thrilled that my acting teacher thought I was up to the challenge. And I did it.
But I hate driving.
But this semester I was literally doing nothing. I am again living at home… despite my goal for the last… millennium to get out of Beaver County. Beaver County has lost its charm since I graduated high school. In fact, the highlight of my Beaver County existence is the occasional alumni days at said high school. So, I decided to bite the bullet and get it over with. I was going to get my license this semester.
This is easier said than done. I love my parents… but I don’t think them teaching me to drive was a good idea on anyone’s part.
I was eventually able to drive on the road. I hated it… and yes, I do think it was made worse by my mom constantly grabbing the Oh-my-gosh-handle and shrieking “Honey!” every five seconds. (Sorry mom, but it’s true).
So after the basic driving was reviewed it was time to learn to parallel park. I have heard that you don’t have to parallel park to drive in the west to pass the test. If this is true then you are lucky.
Learning to parallel park made me pretty much… miserable. I have issues with authority. Learning to parallel required me to be in an enclosed space with one of my parents. It also meant I HAD to do what they said. I am an obedient child. But my parents and I have not had a relationship where orders are given and carried out without question for years. This exercise was very hard for all parties. I’m dyslexic and didn’t understand any of my dad’s careful instructions on how to handle the car steering. It is a difficult thing to explain to someone who co-homeschooled you for eleven years that you still can’t grasp the simple concepts of left, right or mirror opposites.
Then there was the day I had my test. I was nervous from the start, it probably didn’t help that my dad choose about five minutes before the test to ask me if I had knew how to turn the car on correctly. I resisted the urge to ask him if he had Tourette’s and just politely asked him to clarify.
I failed the first test within about a minute and a half in the car with the guy. That was a thrill.
So like any mature adult would I cried all the way home. My mom was out of town, so the job of trying to comfort me fell into my poor dad’s lap. He tried to be upbeat and encouraging the entire drive home. “You are ready, you just had a bad test, it’ll be ok.” Once home I went into my room, slammed the door, threw a fit, texted my mom, watched Spooks and tried to forget. That’s one of the plethora of great things about the show Spooks, it really helps you put your problems into perspective. I might have failed my driver’s test and but at least I wasn’t being manipulated-kidnapped-killed by someone I had thought was my friend for the last three years.
My parents and I continued to practice parking and driving with vigor. It was great.
Another thing is my parents don’t really get the whole sibling rivalry thing. While I struggled to fit the car into the microscopic space they would feel it might be a good idea to talk about the sickening array of success my siblings reap. I love my siblings with all my heart. But while I am struggling with a personal phobia/brick wall of mine that I have struggled with for the last six years I don’t really want to talk about my repulsively awesome siblings. Yes my sister gets straight “A’s” and participates in about every school activity on the planet. My other sister is a freaking musical genius… add to that she wakes up with perfect ringlets. Then my brother has the brain of a rocket scientist and more patience than the rest of my family combined. Seriously mom, could we talk about something else.
On the way to my test today my mom started telling me stories about all the people she knew who were in their thirties and forties and couldn’t drive and how discouraging that must be. I resisted the urge to scream and just kept driving on my merry way to the testing center.
Until this semester I never realized what a skewed sense of encouragement my parents have.
The test was heinous, and I am still surprised that I passed. But frankly I don’t care.
My mom and I celebrated by going to a local coffee shop and ordering expensive hot cocoa. Thanks.
I have not decided exactly what to do for the rest of the day… but something that doesn’t involve burecrats sitting next to me and saying things like “Miss, we are going into traffic. Please follow all traffic laws.”