Every time I see a great play or musical performed well, I contemplate completely abandoning my American Studies and Contemporary Arts majors to study theater management. Seriously. There is nothing quite like the experience of a good show. Les Mis, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Hairspray, Wicked, and Spring Awakening really aren't overrated in any way, shape or form, when you see them live, and Peter & Jerry and August: Osage County make up for five of the most enthralling, and mentally and emotionally stimulating hours of my life.
I was just thinking about this because I went to see Spring Awakening again today, with my mum. I didn't fully appreciate or enjoy it the first time around, and I'm so glad I got to see it with Jonathan Groff and Lea Michelle before they leave next week, even if John Gallagher Jr. has left already. It's an utterly brilliant show that I wish everyone I know could see. Not just hear the music from it - see it, live. It's such a different experience, hearing it and seeing it. You get so much more from seeing it, seeing the emotion in front of you. All the kids in that show (plus the two adults) give amazingly intense, energetic performances that are so emotionally draining for the audience, I can't imagine what it must be like to be in or work on the show what, eight times a week? I don't think I could ever really get tired of working on a truly brilliant show like that, though. The performers' dedication and passion are contagious.
Speaking of passion. Isn't it sad how apathetic people are? Including myself, though I finally seem to be finding a way out of that. How wonderful would it be if more people were enthusiastically passionate about living a good life? I like people like that. The people who challenge me, who rile me up and make me reaffirm my beliefs and reevaluate myself, who just unconsciously remind me of why everything is worthwhile in the end. I like that. I need that.
Lastly: 2 Joan quotes! : D
Joan: Why are you running away? You don’t seem to mind getting in people’s faces except for when it matters.
Grace: Oh, save it.
Joan: You hide Luke! Which yeah, okay, I kind of understand, but you hide your mom, you hide all the important stuff, Grace. Look, I’m not Jewish, but it seems to me this whole bat mitzvah thing is about standing up and declaring yourself! Getting in people’s faces for real.
Grace [at her bat mitzvah]: I know we’re all bonding here with the singing, but seriously, that is a bad song. [laughter] Anyway, me and my dad have been fighting about this day since I hit the double digits, and uh, I won’t go into it . . . It was a political thing, and a daughter of a rabbi thing, but finally, I gave in and indulged them in one last empty ritual before I’m outta here. But then, um, not to get all gooey, or anything like that . . . [turning to look at her father] When you handed me the Torah, and I read those words, it hit me: this is a genius way of attacking adulthood. I mean this scroll – there are no easy answers in here. It’s basically a book of questions, something that makes us keep searching for a way to make sense of this mess. And just dealing with a lot of questions, that takes a lot of guts when there’s no guarantee that there will be answers. And, uh, I just hope I’m up for it. So, fire up that cheesy music and let’s eat!
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Now playing: Bbmak - Miss You More
Monday, May 12, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
So I just looked up Bruce Devlin because I had never heard of him before. Apparently he's got a bazillion and a half golf courses around the world.
Then I looked up Pete Dye to make sure I wasn't crazy. He's got a bazillion and a half golf courses, too. One of them is one of my top 2 favorite courses that I ever played, Rum Pointe, which is also my favorite course in Maryland. I was looking at pictures of it, and it made me miss Assateague like crazy. I want to be there right now.
My other favorite course is Davis Love III's course at Barefoot Landing in Myrtle Beach. He recreated Scottish ruins on the course!! Hole 4, if I remember. So cool.
I wanna be down South right now. Or at least, I feel like watching either A Walk to Remember or The Notebook so I can feel like I'm down there. Except Brenna borrowed both and The Notebook is at home and A Walk to Remember is MIA. Grrrr.
Also I'm supposed to be studying for my 20th Century American Foreign Policy exam tomorrow night...hahaha.
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Now playing: John Mayer - Back To You
Then I looked up Pete Dye to make sure I wasn't crazy. He's got a bazillion and a half golf courses, too. One of them is one of my top 2 favorite courses that I ever played, Rum Pointe, which is also my favorite course in Maryland. I was looking at pictures of it, and it made me miss Assateague like crazy. I want to be there right now.
My other favorite course is Davis Love III's course at Barefoot Landing in Myrtle Beach. He recreated Scottish ruins on the course!! Hole 4, if I remember. So cool.
I wanna be down South right now. Or at least, I feel like watching either A Walk to Remember or The Notebook so I can feel like I'm down there. Except Brenna borrowed both and The Notebook is at home and A Walk to Remember is MIA. Grrrr.
Also I'm supposed to be studying for my 20th Century American Foreign Policy exam tomorrow night...hahaha.
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Now playing: John Mayer - Back To You
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Why Everyone Should Love Paul Rudd.
From Amazon.com:
Why We Love Paul Rudd:
Because we had no idea when he started out playing the nice guy how funny he could actually be. Because his overexaggerated facial expressions and body movements make us laugh harder than 1000 words could. Because this "indie heartthrob" joined the cast of Friends and was actually accepted. Because he can pull off a nervous, bumbling fool just as easily as a sly, confident womanizer... and we buy it everytime. -- Rachel Moss
We Love Him In...
The Object of My Affection As George, the perfect best friend and roommate, who is gay and thus unavailable to Jennifer Aniston, who falls in love with him.
Clueless: As Josh, the older, smarter, indie stepbrother of the spoiled California girl (Alicia Silverstone), he was just dreamy enough to make us all crush on him.
Friends : As Mike, the lawyer-turned-pianist who is so charmed by the eclectic Phoebe (Lisa Kudrow) that he marries her, Rudd was the only real outside character who seemed to fit in well with the close-knit Friends gang.
The 40 Year-Old Virgin: As one of Steve Carell's (the virgin) buddies, who is on a mission to help him "score" despite feeling torn up about his own breakup.
Why I Love Paul Rudd:
-- All of the above.
-- He loves the Chrysler Building...only my favorite building in New York!
-- He was Born in Jersey. : D
-- He also enjoyed Chris Elliot's Shroud of the Thwacker, which thoroughly amused me.
-- No matter how bad the movies he's in actually are (:: cough P.S. cough ::) he's a scene stealer in every single one.
-- He's extremely underrated. Judd Apatow movies have brought him into the mainstream a little more, but those movies really just showcase how capable of comedy he is - he's much more versatile in his other stuff. I mean really...who else could, at age 37, play a 29-year-old guy trying to woo a 40-year-old divorced mom, and come off as completely funny, dorky, charming, and unassuming? ...Exactly.
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Now playing: Goldfrapp - Fly Me Away
Why We Love Paul Rudd:
Because we had no idea when he started out playing the nice guy how funny he could actually be. Because his overexaggerated facial expressions and body movements make us laugh harder than 1000 words could. Because this "indie heartthrob" joined the cast of Friends and was actually accepted. Because he can pull off a nervous, bumbling fool just as easily as a sly, confident womanizer... and we buy it everytime. -- Rachel Moss
We Love Him In...
The Object of My Affection As George, the perfect best friend and roommate, who is gay and thus unavailable to Jennifer Aniston, who falls in love with him.
Clueless: As Josh, the older, smarter, indie stepbrother of the spoiled California girl (Alicia Silverstone), he was just dreamy enough to make us all crush on him.
Friends : As Mike, the lawyer-turned-pianist who is so charmed by the eclectic Phoebe (Lisa Kudrow) that he marries her, Rudd was the only real outside character who seemed to fit in well with the close-knit Friends gang.
The 40 Year-Old Virgin: As one of Steve Carell's (the virgin) buddies, who is on a mission to help him "score" despite feeling torn up about his own breakup.
Why I Love Paul Rudd:
-- All of the above.
-- He loves the Chrysler Building...only my favorite building in New York!
-- He was Born in Jersey. : D
-- He also enjoyed Chris Elliot's Shroud of the Thwacker, which thoroughly amused me.
-- No matter how bad the movies he's in actually are (:: cough P.S. cough ::) he's a scene stealer in every single one.
-- He's extremely underrated. Judd Apatow movies have brought him into the mainstream a little more, but those movies really just showcase how capable of comedy he is - he's much more versatile in his other stuff. I mean really...who else could, at age 37, play a 29-year-old guy trying to woo a 40-year-old divorced mom, and come off as completely funny, dorky, charming, and unassuming? ...Exactly.
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Now playing: Goldfrapp - Fly Me Away
Maybe...
Maybe the only real feelings are love and fear, and everything else just derives from them. Maybe for everything we do, our motives and reasoning can be traced back to either love or fear. Well, I guess that's not true. But it's interesting.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I painted a picture. It's called "Front Porch Life." It shall probably be revised and reposted at some point.
Years from now, when I have grown withered and small, all I want is a porch.
A porch that wraps around a house, where sit rocking chairs that creak from beneath their red-and-yellow cushioned seats, and hangs a swinging bench that sways in the evening breeze, begging for a sip of oil at its hinges.
The roof covers the porch, which is deep enough for watching storms while bundled up in quilts with a mug of steamy tea and honey.
There is no balustrade but the bushes planted in front of the porch – thick, thicket-y, thorny rose bushes of all shades of pink and red, from which stand out one white bush and one yellow.
In the summer their scent is overwhelming, so you cannot even smell the overgrown mint floods the two small steps, though it is constantly crushed to bits by stampeding feet that elicit its sweet juice.
It freshens the stale air.
I want to see the bay from the side, but I want the front to approach the road so I can see people coming and going, and invite them to stop and chat.
They will walk up on the white, creamy stream of broken quahog shells, and cast dancing shadows in the warm, golden light that falls from the lanterns lining the curvy path.
I want to sit there as evening falls and the warmth begins to fade, listening to crickets sing and rushes stir as I knit for someone else’s expected grandchildren.
I want to sit with you in silence and feel that peculiar chill that only crawls in with a summer night until you pull a faded quilt from the old chest for me and wrap it around my shoulders.
But mostly, I want to sit and remember how we used to sit on red and yellow cushions on your front porch and be silent together. How we would talk deep into the night until your mother called down from the window above for me to leave. And we would sit quietly a while longer and then I would finally leave, but it would not matter, because the next night I would come back, and we would live our front porch life again.
A porch that wraps around a house, where sit rocking chairs that creak from beneath their red-and-yellow cushioned seats, and hangs a swinging bench that sways in the evening breeze, begging for a sip of oil at its hinges.
The roof covers the porch, which is deep enough for watching storms while bundled up in quilts with a mug of steamy tea and honey.
There is no balustrade but the bushes planted in front of the porch – thick, thicket-y, thorny rose bushes of all shades of pink and red, from which stand out one white bush and one yellow.
In the summer their scent is overwhelming, so you cannot even smell the overgrown mint floods the two small steps, though it is constantly crushed to bits by stampeding feet that elicit its sweet juice.
It freshens the stale air.
I want to see the bay from the side, but I want the front to approach the road so I can see people coming and going, and invite them to stop and chat.
They will walk up on the white, creamy stream of broken quahog shells, and cast dancing shadows in the warm, golden light that falls from the lanterns lining the curvy path.
I want to sit there as evening falls and the warmth begins to fade, listening to crickets sing and rushes stir as I knit for someone else’s expected grandchildren.
I want to sit with you in silence and feel that peculiar chill that only crawls in with a summer night until you pull a faded quilt from the old chest for me and wrap it around my shoulders.
But mostly, I want to sit and remember how we used to sit on red and yellow cushions on your front porch and be silent together. How we would talk deep into the night until your mother called down from the window above for me to leave. And we would sit quietly a while longer and then I would finally leave, but it would not matter, because the next night I would come back, and we would live our front porch life again.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Kevin: What were you doing?
Joan: I was pretending I was in a coma!
If I don't die today, it will be some kind of miracle.
After my final tonight, I am so passing out til forever.
If I don't die today, it will be some kind of miracle.
After my final tonight, I am so passing out til forever.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
"All that hatred down there...
...All that hatred and misery and love. It's a wonder it doesn't blow the avenue apart."
- Sonny ("Sonny's Blues" by James Baldwin)
Sometimes it feels like the world is so empty. There are lifeless people, shells that don't hold anything, wandering around, chasing something that doesn't exist. Everything is an illusion and nothing truly exists and no one can feel a thing. There is no worth; there is no reason to persist or try. No one knows anything but what they think they see and hear, and all words have no meaning behind them - they are but empty vessels floating through our ears.
Other times it feels like the world is so full. Full of life. Full of love. Full of faith and hope and inspiration and reason. Intangible everythings. Peace and freedom and spirituality and purity. Some shadow and darkness, too, but it's outstripped, outshone, by the lilting grace of everything else. Then it feels like the world is so full of everything that nothing could possibly hold it in, and it shall explode into a supernova that glows with flames that are streams of golden, luminous life and dreams made palpable, that literally flow from our fingertips and lips and eyes and hair and heart. And this phoenixlike blast will be a blessing, a celebration and rebirth of all that is good.
Perhaps like a phoenix, though, the world is left in a state of ash, completely devoid of wonder - emptied - until the good people of the world fill it up again. They renew it over and over within themselves until the world is full once more. And unless the good people patiently and tirelessly work to refill, the world will never reach this apex, where only for a moment, all is right, and we can't want for more.
- Sonny ("Sonny's Blues" by James Baldwin)
Sometimes it feels like the world is so empty. There are lifeless people, shells that don't hold anything, wandering around, chasing something that doesn't exist. Everything is an illusion and nothing truly exists and no one can feel a thing. There is no worth; there is no reason to persist or try. No one knows anything but what they think they see and hear, and all words have no meaning behind them - they are but empty vessels floating through our ears.
Other times it feels like the world is so full. Full of life. Full of love. Full of faith and hope and inspiration and reason. Intangible everythings. Peace and freedom and spirituality and purity. Some shadow and darkness, too, but it's outstripped, outshone, by the lilting grace of everything else. Then it feels like the world is so full of everything that nothing could possibly hold it in, and it shall explode into a supernova that glows with flames that are streams of golden, luminous life and dreams made palpable, that literally flow from our fingertips and lips and eyes and hair and heart. And this phoenixlike blast will be a blessing, a celebration and rebirth of all that is good.
Perhaps like a phoenix, though, the world is left in a state of ash, completely devoid of wonder - emptied - until the good people of the world fill it up again. They renew it over and over within themselves until the world is full once more. And unless the good people patiently and tirelessly work to refill, the world will never reach this apex, where only for a moment, all is right, and we can't want for more.
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