Live like you were dying

My dog, Stacy, is quite the little drama queen. I believe I've mentioned the fact that she detests rain, but lately she seems to have hit a level of over-exaggeration that even I have not yet attained. She likes to express how bored or lonely she is by flopping down to the floor and letting out a sigh, as if to indicate that she is resigning herself to the sad fact that no one really loves her or they would be playing with her.

The other day, we hit a semi-usual conundrum. She loves walks. Needs exercise, needs to go to the bathroom, and likes sniffing and seeing new things. She hates rain. Her hatred of rain always seems to outweigh her love of walks. I went to the mudroom to get her leash. It was raining outside. She probably heard it, but I'm not sure.

Usually, when I walk towards her leash, she begins to spin enthusiastically and wriggle with joy so much that I'm worried she may come loose from her skin. However, she merely lifted her head, stood up, took a few steps towards me, and looked at me with her head in the "I've done something bad and I know it" position.

I called her name. She walked a few steps forward, until she was at the edge between the dining room and the kitchen. I called her name again and wiggled the leash at her. She sat. Perhaps if I sit, she'll know I'm a good dog and I won't get wet. Unfortunately, I did not share this thought. I called her name again in my "I'm a stern mommy and I'm the alpha of this pack so get over here RIGHT NOW" voice.

She walked slowly towards me, and her expression and demeanor suggested that I was taking her outside so that I could skin her alive and leave her dying in the rain. We walked for less than a block before she had done her business. She turned around and pulled in the direction of home. I gave in. You would have thought she had just been told that she was in fact, not dying of cancer, and actually would live a long and joy-filled life.

My dog's complete aversion to the rain seems rather sad to me. Not sad in an unhappy way, just sad in a pathetic sort of way. She's part lab (or so we think) so it really seems strange.

Either way, I think she has some sort of problem with emotions that causes her to feel everything more intensely than anyone could even imagine.

Now I must be off to drag her around the block. It's raining. This should be fun.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

The most wonderful time of the year

Despite the fact that I hold no belief in any deity, and despite my disbelief in the nativity story (at least as it is most commonly told), Christmas is definitely, hands-down, my favorite holiday. People have said that I can't really be celebrating Christmas if I don't believe in the "Christ" part of it. But I strongly disagree. While I do hold a certain amount of cynicism near and dear to me, and I dislike the commercialism that runs rampant this time of year, I love Christmas, mostly because of what it stands for and means to me and my family.

I believe that people can celebrate the same "holiday" while allowing it to have a different meaning. I understand that while I'm not really celebrating Christmas in the sense that I'm not celebrating the birth of Jesus, but despite that, I refuse to call it by a different name. To me, one story that holds the most meaning for me is the story of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

I love the Grinch. Come December, I probably watch the animated version at least five times. To me, it is a wonderful story that doesn't rely on Santa or Jesus. It's about the "true spirit of Christmas" and how beautiful it is. Take away the presents, take away the food, even take away the tree, and it's still there. I won't pretend that I don't love those tangible aspects of Christmas. But what I really love is the feeling. Being with my loved ones and enjoying their company and love.

Speaking of which, we are decorating the tree today, so I must sign off early.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

The book report

I love books. I love reading, I love writing, I love words, I love the feel of paper, the smell of an old book. I have my parents to thank for this love, and, I suppose, the ease in which reading and writing came to me.

I think a major factor that lead to my bookworm passion was the fact that when I was a kid, we read books aloud. We were able to spend time together. We were entertained, and therefore somewhat quieter. We were encouraged to think and feel and react with books and characters. With my dad, we went through the LOTR trilogy, and of course The Hobbit. We read The Chronicles of Narnia (all seven of them). We read Ender's Game, and Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. Just to mention a few. My dad exposed my sister and I to some pretty serious reads when we were kids, not even fully capable of understanding anything beyond the surface.

At my moms' house, we opted to find new books and new series. This is where I began the Harry Potter books. We made it all the way through the sixth one aloud. We also discovered the Artemis Fowl series, which I love. Simple enough for kids and teens who aren't huge literature fans, but witty and sardonic enough to wet the appetite of a feisty 18 year old as well. I still read them avidly.

While reading aloud has mostly been abandoned at my moms' house, I am proud to say that we have continued the tradition with my fathers. I ran my voice sore reading and The Hunger Games and Catching Fire, and we are waiting to finish the last of the trilogy, Mockingjay. If you haven't read these books yet by Suzanne Collins, don't wait, pick up a copy today. Now, in fact. I'll wait.

Even with totally comedic books like Nightlight, which is a parody of the Twilight "Saga," reading aloud can be much more fun. Last year I got a copy offhand at a Barnes and Noble, read it in record time, and then when I went to a party with a few friends, we stayed up until 4 in the morning passing around the book and reading chapters out loud to one another. The laughter and the fun was almost unbearably wonderful.

Anyway, these last two out-loud expeditions really illuminated how wonderful it is to share something like a book. You can muse about what will happen next, how the characters will develop. You can let yourself just listen (as I do so often with Jim Dale narrating the HP series in my headphones) and imagine seeing everything. I know some people think that movies made out of books are better. But they are wrong. (In my humble opinion at least) There is something so powerful about the written word, and I truly hope that power is never lost or underestimated.

Characters who can capture your heart, or imagery so powerful that you can close your eyes and truly believe you are at Hogwarts or in Neverland or outer space or Africa or ANYWHERE! These things are so wonderful and beautiful. To me, literature is something of an art form, when done correctly. You do have the portraits and the cartoons, and sometimes, just like in "real" art, there are cartoons that are better than portraits. I love reading aloud because there is no easier way to share your reactions and enter into another world with other people, at least in terms of bookworlds.

I can't imagine what my childhood would have been like without holding this tradition so nearly and dearly. Honestly, I can't even imagine what my NOW life would be like. There are so many series and authors and messages that I never would have found if they hadn't been read out loud to me. I don't mean to preach or anything, but next time you find a good book, I suggest curling up with your family or some friends, and sharing it.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Hello hello

So, my life has finally slowed down enough to begin taking time for the little (and not so little) things again. While I don't have much to say today, I have a myriad of topics that have been sitting in the back (and front) of my brain, and so I have decided to try and breathe some life into this corpse of a blog and give myself a slightly less ridiculous goal. Between work, owning a dog, and an internship at an up and coming theatre company, daily posts are not going to be coming back.

But, I am going to start posting at least once a week, and this one isn't counting. I've also given in to pressure (mostly so that I can follow celebrities and be a stalker) and gotten a Twitter account. I'm rather wary about it, but... Maybe I'll get a few more readers this way. My username is "gettobizness" as in Get To Business. I hope people don't think I'm trying to say "ghetto business." Ah well.

I will be back soon with a real post.
I have missed this though. Hurrah!

Cheers,

T.A.D.

I guess this is goodbye

Not to this blog, but to the daily updating of this blog. I have come to the conclusion that I would rather write bi-weekly posts that I am actually happy with and that have some substance to them than post every single day when I end up disappointed with the amount of fluff and filling I write. I think that posts will go up on Saturdays and Tuesdays, and so hopefully the quality of my posts will go up as the quantity goes down.

Keep your eyes open, however, since I am now about 80% sure that I want to start a second blog that will be more of a recording of my season with the theatre company I'm interning at. This will probably be a lot of stuff that might be gibberish to non-theatre geeks, but I'm hoping that I'll make it accessible. However, the point will be more to talk about the new things I'm learning and the experiences themselves, so I'm not sure how interesting readers of this blog who are not big theatre fans will find it. I'll link to it on the day it goes up, which will probably be this weekend.

I will be back on Saturday.

Have a great couple of days, see you then.

Cheers!

-T.A.D.

All the myths are true

Oh the magic of Mythbusters.

I have decided to embark on what is sure to be a long quest: watching every single episode of Mythbusters ever produced. I like the show because not only is it entertaining, but it teaches me things. Mostly these tidbits of knowledge are about as useful as my grandfather's constant anecdotal tales at dinner time, but sometimes there's one that could be helpful, like the fact that going in and out of your car while pumping gas can create a static spark that could catch fire.

For the most part, I admit, it is fun as hell to watch Jamie and Adam blow shit up. Or drop things from insane heights. Or shoot random things. I like watching their endeavors. If I were a science person more than an art person, I would so be working towards employment at that studio.

I had my first production meeting for the theatre company I'm an intern at. Well, the intern. I'm the first and only intern they've ever had. I'm so excited. Just hearing about this show that we're doing gave me chills. I can't wait until things go from ideas to reality. I think that's one of my favorite parts of theatre, to be quite honest. I love being a part of that process.

Well, I'm completely trashed, though to be honest I don't know why, so I will say adieu.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Stay cool boys

Though I don't like the idea of being "cool," (I much prefer to think of being hot and fresh and different and new) I must admit that there are quite a lot of situations in which keeping a cool head can be very useful. When someone tells you something that takes you by surprise, for instance, keeping a level head can be very helpful. That way, instead of exploding with a rather immature spout of "OMGGGGG TELL ME EVERYTHING WHAT???" you can respond with a much more fitting remark.

I've been described by some of my close friends to be, in word, intense. And while I see that as a good thing, it can also be a bit of a burden. I get very excited about things, or very sad, or very whatever emotion is necessary. I guess I just feel a lot of whatever it is I'm feeling. I don't know why that is, but I know that I have been working on and I need to keep working on containing more of it. It has been a factor in damaging several friendships that I've had and I hope that I can repair some, if not all, of the damage. Staying cool is something that I wish I could do more often.

I guess you can compare me to my dog in that way. When she's excited, she is excited. It's all "oh a walk, my favorite, oh people, my favorite, oh the cat, my favorite!" with lots of exclamation points and wagging and wiggling. I don't wag, per say, but you could probably measure my enthusiasm against the enthusiasm of my dog with a pretty small difference in between.

This staying cool thing applies (for me at least) to both positive and negative situations. I wouldn't say that I'm over dramatic about everything, but, as I said, I just feel a lot, so that affects me a lot. I get very emotional in places where maybe it isn't the best time and place to be very emotional, which isn't overly helpful.

So whether it's a friend on Facebook who you find out is in a relationship or an archenemy who succeeds in spilling chocolate pudding down your favorite shirt, my advice for the day is to stay cool and not overreact. Yes, these things matter, and yes, you should be enthusiastic and intense about them, but try to find a line between when the intensity is helping or hurting the situation. If it helps, that's great. If not, tone it down a little. I can tell you from personal experience, the people around you will thank you for it.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

I forgot to remember...

Well oopsie.

Between sailing with my family and talking to some friends on Skype last night, writing a blog post yesterday totally slipped my mind.

Though this might be a good time to mention that now that I'm hoping to be working a 20-30 hour week at the cafe' and interning at a theater company, I'm not sure that Business as Usual will continue to be a daily updated blog. I would love to hear what you think, but I've found that I have been disappointed with the number of "filler" posts that I put up, and I'd rather put up posts that I'm happy with on a two or three times a week basis rather than a mix of posts that I like and don't like every day. Feedback on this point would be greatly appreciated, so please, please, please, comment or message me with what you think. All six of you readers...

If I do end up decreasing the number of posts I do on this blog, I might follow through with my hope to start a second blog under this account. If I do, and you are a theatre geek like me, hurray! Now that I'm officially an intern at an up and coming theater company, I was hoping to keep some sort of record of the things I'm doing and learning, and, since I'm really rather bad at holding myself accountable for tasks, I think that posting things in a blog format might be both beneficial to me and at least semi-interesting to readers.

A real post for today, the 16th, will be coming up later, but for now, this is the end of my news update and apology/make up post for yesterday, the 15th.

Don't forget to comment/message me on the topics of Business as Usual and a possible theatre blog.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

It's words that hurt the most

I've been talking to a friend recently, who has struggled with body image for a long time. I feel as though I've failed her. She's been getting better recently, and then today, boom. A few choice words from her mother and things are worse than ever. Words are so powerful that way. So hurtful. Especially from those we love and trust.

Unfortunately, the negative words always seem to have more power than the positive. So the hour of positive that I've been pounding into her seems to be for naught. Worst of all, the choices her mother made when speaking to her have now destroyed her image of the one thing that my friend did like about her image.

I've been friends with this person for going on five years now, and I feel as though I've failed her. I want to scream at her parents. I want to drive to her house and talk to her and get her to listen to what I'm saying. To get her to look in a mirror and see what I see.

Words. Such potential to hurt and destroy. But also to heal. And to inspire change. We just need to find the positive potential and use that instead. I think that if we were more aware that words are our greatest weapons, kids wouldn't be so cruel. Parents wouldn't be so inconsiderate. Friends would be more careful. And things like this wouldn't happen so tragically often.

Wow, way to end on a positive note. (Not)

-T.A.D.

Solidarity

At my old school, we had a week every year called "Global Solidarity Week." Each day would have a different theme and we would try (and fail) in different ways to be in solidarity with the more impoverished of the world. For example, we might use no lights and no computers for a day to show how others without power get by. We would even be given a list of a bunch of things we were supposed to do and have our families do at home, like take a cold shower or use a bucket to wash instead of a shower.

The worst part is that after all of this total bullshit, we were required to write a paper of some sort for our religion class about how much more globally aware we were, and how moved we were by how hard it was to go one night sleeping on our cushy floors instead of our cushy beds and how privileged we now felt.

Global solidarity would be a great thing to have. However, spending a night, or even a week, sleeping on the floor to try and understand what those without beds feel seems insulting. I can't pretend to know how hard it is for the underprivileged in the United States, let alone around the world. This hypocrisy always got to me when I was at school during these weeks, but the irony didn't really hit until this past year. At least in my freshmen year we made some sort of effort, but by year four of GSW, it seemed to have lost it's punch. Freshmen year there was a day when we couldn't wear shoes, a day when we sat on the floor, so on and so forth. This year it was a complete joke. Two of the five days weren't even doing anything, we just went to presentations.

It makes me sad and angry that we can't even attempt to find true solidarity with each other, let alone people who have less than us. Yes, we can go through the motions and go a day without using electricity, but does that really mean we have the right to say that we have found solidarity with others? I don't think it does. I think the more important thing that I've learned from my four years of publicity stunt crap was that I can truly say that all four papers I wrote after that week? They were a bunch of lies. I talked about how humbled I felt. Seriously? I cranked those out in fifteen, twenty minutes each, easily.

On the one hand, I wish that there was a way I could be in solidarity with my fellow citizens of the world, but on the other, I can't imagine how horrible that must be, and it seems almost insulting of the people that don't have a bed to pretend that I know what that feels like.

Moral of the story, however depressing it is, is that we can't really understand these things. We understand what we go through, not what others go through. And we should concentrate on how our own experiences have shaped us so that we can have a positive influence on the experiences of others rather than pretending that we have had similar feelings.

I can feel empathy for to underprivileged of our world. But sympathy? Solidarity? For now, that's way beyond me. So I'm not going to pretend.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Here comes the sun

Woah! I did it!

What did I do? I got the internship I've been hoping for. I started thinking about it last year. And now here it is, right in front of me!

I will be working with a theatre company whose values I share. I believe they create amazing art, and now I get to be a part of it. Art is such a give and take. You can tell when someone is faking it in acting if they aren't giving anything and feeling anything. You have to be willing to empty yourself out and fill yourself out with what is most useful to your part.

I love theatre as an art form and am so thrilled that I'll be involved in it during this "gap year" that I'm taking between high school and college. Tomorrow comes a post about solidarity. A real post. OH MY GOSH!

For now though, I must go bask in my excitement and continue to fill in my friends and family.

Cheers!

-T.A.D.

You get what you need

I had to make a really tough decision today. A decision that was (I think and hope) for the best, and the right one.

It's tough when your long term goals and your short term goals don't line up. I had to choose long term over short term today, even though short term is more fun and more exciting. But when it's not the right time for something, it's not. It's very hard when what you want and what you need are two different things. And it's hard to make the responsible choice of choosing what you need over what you want when what you want is right there in front of you.

Overall, though, I think it's good to choose what you need instead. It's different. You can choose the ice cream that you want to eat or the fruit that you know you should eat because it's healthier for you. And oh my god, what a pain in the ass choosing the healthier choice is, right? But it's better in the long run, I think. I haven't really got it all figured out yet. I wish the world were a simpler place, a world where Mick Jagger's words didn't ring quite as true. Life is messy and complicated and hard sometimes. From choices, big life changing choices, like getting married, to smaller choices, like the one I made, to small choices, like ice cream or fruit for dessert.

For now, however, knowing that I have made one good choice for now means that I get to choose ice cream today.

Dessert time!

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

The song is over

And so is my day. I had hoped to write a real post today, but I truly and honestly don't have the energy. I just got done with a really intense four hour workshop and I swear I hurt EVERYWHERE. I am so physically and mentally drained, I can't even remember what I was supposed to talk about today.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

I believe

Time for more poetry. This is one about some of my core beliefs. Keep in mind, normal disclaimer applies, I wrote this a fair bit of time ago, and I think I might do a rewrite in a similar style to do some compare and contrast.

For now, however, enjoy.

I believe that music
soothes the mind
ensnares the soul
and whispers to the heart.

I believe that our family
is with us from beginning to end
influences our growth
and will love us always and unconditionally

I believe that giving
should be done without thoughts
of what will be given to us in return
and is more important than receiving

I believe that our friends
help us through our sorrows
gift us with their joys
and fill our hearts with belonging

I believe that theatre
allows us to see from another's eyes
offers us an escape from reality
and grants us freedom to truly be ourselves

I believe that love
is something we can never have too much of
should not be shared, not hoarded
and should not be taken too lightly, nor given too sparingly

I believe that laughter
lightens our hearts
brings us closer to one another
masks darkness, and hides fear

I believe that words
grant us knowledge and inspiration
aid us in self-expression
and are sometimes still not enough

I believe that all of this and more
shows who I once was
makes up who I am now
and is a part of who I want to become

Oh dear how cliche some of this (most of this) is.
Hopefully my rewrite will be more interesting. Sorry about the odd font screwup.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Raging

GAR. For some reason the HTML is messing up my post for today and I'm going to bed. I suppose you'll get my real post tomorrow. Sorry!

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Grey Gardens

Well, Patrick over at SBP asked me to do a guest post for him since he'll be off on a long cruise with no internet access. I would say check out his blog next Saturday to read it, but honestly it's late enough and I'm tired enough that I don't really feel like writing a second post in one day. Therefore, I will give you a sneak peek at Patrick's post for sometime next week and let you read it now. Hopefully once he gets back, I'll have him guest post here and you'll get to e-meet him. Yay!

This past year, I wrote an essay on an interesting topic. I wasn't particularly happy with the piece, since it was a last minute one, but I think I touched on an interesting topic. I entitled the essay "Shades of Grey." The world isn't black and white. People think in extremes too much. Good and bad. Right and wrong. For and against. But in order to truly experience the world around us, I believe we have to look at the world not from these extremes, but from a midpoint. The problem is, society as a whole teaches us the opposite. If someone isn't right, they're wrong, and there isn't any way around that. The thing is, I think that's false. I think that the world is more complicated than that.

I think that murderers aren't always bad people. I think that you can't argue with someone properly without being able to look at it from their point of view. Hell, that's part of what allows P.I. and I to get along so well. Just because I'm an atheist doesn't meant that I can't get along with people who have strong convictions in their faith. It's easier to believe that things are simple. It's easier to shut your eyes and mouth and think of people as evil if you have to kill them. We aren't fighting people in wars, they're collateral damage. The truth, however, is much more complicated and much less pretty. Every "bad guy" has a mother. Has some sort of family. We see villains in movies and read about them in books and they are evil. They want power or money. Sometimes we can feel sympathy for them. A well-written villain should be someone we can feel sympathy for. Someone we can even mourn.

Good and evil are just the tip of the extremity iceberg. Even more important is wrong and right. You can be wrong and right. You can be both. You should be both. If we go through our lives thinking only in terms of this versus that, we can't begin to ponder the important questions: who am I, what am I doing, do I have a purpose, if so what. Anyhow. I think that's enough pondering. I hope you've been interested.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Fight for all the wrong reasons

Firstly, I am proud to inform you that today marks the two month birthday of this blog. For you readers who have been with me since my introductory post, thank you. For you readers who have stumbled upon Business as Usual a little more recently, thank you. Huzzah for readers!

Today's post is going to be pretty short, since I'm going to see a friend of mine star in a production of Hair.

Science and religion. Wow do those two have a violent history. Science and religion always seem to be butting heads despite the fact that they both (to a certain extent) aim to do the same thing: answer questions about how and why we exist. You can argue that religion disproves scientific theories, that science disproves religious theories, or even that science and religion compliment each other.

I think people in both sides of the argument are so attached to the notion, the desire, of needing to be the right one, that they can't look at the others opinions well enough. I mean, the fact is, history proves that the Bible was not written by one person at the same time. But that doesn't mean that it has to prove that biblical teachings or events are false. I know that I'm biased in this argument due to the fact that I am an atheist and therefore I am a non-religious person, but I am spiritual, so I'm not a complete science worshiper. If science and religion worked together to answer some questions, I think the results would be magnificent. I mean, scientists and religious scholars are some of the smartest people out there. Imagine the potential that the two groups have if they put aside their differences. Science answers the how. Religion answers the why.

At least, that's what I've heard, and it makes sense to a certain extent.

I know it would be difficult, if not impossible, but I think a synergy between science and religion could be really powerful and wonderful. I don't see a reason for the two to be archenemies.

On that note, I must go have dinner now.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Express yourself

While I've said this before, I think it's worth rephrasing. We spend too much time thinking about what other people think of us and not enough of what we think of ourselves.

Being our own person means being the person we want to be, not the one someone else wants us to be. When we're little kids we go by what our parents want us to be. When we get a bit older people tend to either go by the opposite of what our parents want or by what our friends want. Everyone does this. But I think if we really want to make a change in the world, we have to concentrate on what and who we want to be.

I wish I were in a place where I could say how that's possible, but I'm really not. In some ways I try to follow my own desires and expectations for ourselves, but over and over I find myself following the expectations of others. Friends, family, bosses, peers, teachers. It's hard to let go of the desire to please. We are always trying to please those around us. I'm not saying that pleasing people is wrong. I mean, if we just did what we wanted to do and weren't cautious with the needs of people around us, we would just be assholes. I guess what I'm trying to say is that there is a really fine line between being our own person and being an asshole and being a pushover. A fine line between all three of those things. In the middle is being our own person and we have to try not to fall on one of the other two sides.

So express yourself. Try being yourself, really yourself, for a change, rather than being who we think others should perceive us as.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

On the radio

While I do proud myself on the music I listen to and the wide variety of genres I enjoy, there are several things in the music world that I cannot stand. One of these things is people who get snotty about their music the minute it becomes "popular."

I understand the feeling of betrayal and distress when you find out that one of your favorite small bands has just sold out by popping out a song or two for a soundtrack. I've felt it myself. But that shouldn't take away from the music that the band has made. Some people get too caught up in how mainstream music is, whether they only like mainstream, or they can't stand any band that's gotten a tune on the radio.

I get really exasperated with people who are like that. I don't like the whole attitude that something is good just because no one has heard of it, or that something is good because everyone has heard of it. I think it's insulting, quite frankly. People should pick what they like to listen to based on what they like listening to, not based on how popular it is or isn't.

I know today's post is short, but there's only so much I can whine about before I start to bore you.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Airplane

Ah, today I get the joy of a long airplane ride back home.

Luckily, it is a nonstop flight, which means I can conk out and just sleep with the help of my (prescribed) meds. YAY!

As I said yesterday, I have mixed feelings about going back home. I have some fun stuff coming up in this month, but I really don't want to leave my family. I love spending time with them. Though, to be fair, there are people back home who I have really missed during this vacation.

So, I'll share some events that are coming up now in the chance that I talk about them later without mentioning the basic premise. That way you can (attempt) to follow my train of thought.

Well, work is going to be pretty busy, and I'm going to be cookie wench of the month. We have several large cookie orders. Next week I'm doing a week long Suzuki intensive, which will be AWESOME. Hopefully I'll start to talk more specifically with some people about getting an internship at one of my favorite theatre companies this season.

I suppose that's it for now. I'm posting early because our flight won't get in til late tomorrow. Starting tomorrow real posts come.

Cheers,

T.A.D.

The end

Well, tomorrow is Tuesday and I leave New Jersey to go back home. I've had a wonderful vacation, and today was especially wonderful since I first saw some cousins who I rarely get to see and then went to NYC with my uncle for a night on the town.

I love my family and it's hard living so far away from them. I mean, it's not like they all live in one state, but at least they aren't the entire country away from each other. I love my home though too. I love where I live. It's beautiful and wonderful and I don't want to leave it, so I end up feeling very torn. I wish I lived closer to my family, but of course I want to live where I live.

I think this entire paradox has been made much more emotional by the fact that I'm completely sleep deprived. Plus I think I got sunburned and my feet hurt a lot. Now I'm just whining, which means it's really time to say goodbye.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Movie theme

Today I saw Inception. I thoroughly enjoyed it too. But I don't want to talk about that today. I want to talk about something I noticed while watching the movie. I have always been a fan of movie scores, and I think that the music that accompanies some of my favorite films is almost as wonderful as the films themselves. I don't think the background music to movies is really appreciated as much as it should be and deserves to be.

Music sets the mood for the movie. The music of the scene tells us what to feel, and gives us information about what we are seeing or will see. I noticed the music in Inception, hence the sudden interest. I have several different scores from movies. I have the soundtracks to all three Lord of the Rings for a start. I love listening to this music later and being able to close my eyes and see the scene in which the music played in my imagination.

I will return tomorrow, but for now I'll be off to watch Magnum Force, which, for those of you who don't know, is the second of the Dirty Harry movies.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

100 years

Or rather, half of 100 years. Tonight we are going out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary. I think that's pretty amazing. Being married so long I mean.

To be true to my inner romantic, I must admit that my heart clings to the idea of everlasting love. I want to marry and have kids and be happy with the same person for a lifetime. Unfortunately, I've been growing up in a world where that's not really the norm anymore.

I have no problem with divorce. My parents divorced, and they are much happier for it. But that's not something I want. I'm not trying to say that anyone wants divorce, but that scares me. The idea of giving away my heart and then taking it back or, worse, getting it handed back to me broken, is a scary idea. So in this cynical bubble I create for myself, it's quite lovely to celebrate 50 years of love and life together.

My grandparents drive each other crazy sometimes, but they do love each other, and they match each other quite well.

Now I must go get cleaned up for dinner. I have to grab a shower before it's stolen by someone else. 10 people going out to dinner = lots of showers necessary.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Sleepin' is all I wanna do

Wow. I saw the clock and freaked out because I thought I had missed my deadline, forgetting about the time difference. Yay, I'm still posting on time.

Anyway. Don't have much to say today. I'm hoping I'll have time to write a proper post tomorrow, but honestly I've been very busy on my vacation, which seems like an oxymoron and I'm not sure how I feel about it, but whatever.

I suppose I should report that Thomas' plan actually worked. "Nick" is a nice guy and I think he'll make a good internet/long distance friend. Either way, we're getting ice cream together tomorrow. My family is annoying and nosy though; I got home from the Magic tournament (and from talking to Nick) and was bombarded with questions. Some relatives said that ice cream was definitely a date, others didn't say, and (my favorite) my cousin (I'm too tired to come up with a fake name, too tired to even think of the WORD for a fake name. pseudonym? Ah, finally, spell check has confirmed) so I'll just say she's Patrick's sister) said "Well, that was my mom and dad's first date, and look how that turned out." She was referring to the fact that they are now happily married with six children.

Family overload has commenced. Shut down cycle has been initiated to preserve what is left of my sanity. Admittedly, that's not much.

Sleep well, or if you're reading this at a different time, then "______" well to whatever you're planning on doing next.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

Due to the thunderstorm that we had earlier today, the internet connection has been terribly slow. This is the first time I've even been able to access my blog, so I don't know how long the connection will stay good. Therefore, I'm keeping today's post nice and short.

Which is helpful since I don't have much to say today. I've been enjoying vacation, and we went to see Toy Story 3, which was amazing. I found myself feeling much like Andy throughout the film: a teenager on the cusp of a new stage in life, unsure of what to hold on to and what to let go of.

It isn't just about toys, it's about relationships and habits and people. I'm taking a year off before I go to college, and I'm grateful for that; it's giving me more time to think about who I want to be in college. It will be such a different and crazy world. I've lived in a bit of a box for the past several years. Going to an all-girls' Catholic school for high school, especially as someone involved in the theatre department, has meant that I haven't had much time for life outside of drama and school. Before that I was both young and awkward, and I went to one school for ten years.

I must admit, it's rather scary thinking about the things and the people that I might have to let go of, and it's scary worrying about being alone in a new place.

Augh all this talk of growing up is making me nervous. So that's enough for now. I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully with faster internet.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Material world

So much focus in this culture is placed on what you own. Products and advertisements for products are everywhere. Commercials tell us what products are best; which products make us look sexier, feel healthier, get girls/guys easier, the list goes on. As a culture, Americans are obsessed with the material. I cannot say that I am blameless in this aspect, because yes, I buy into the whole birthday/Christmas product explosion too.

What really stinks about this whole culture mindset is that I am a part of it as well. I wish that I could say I wasn't, but I am. As I've mentioned previously, I'm an avid packrat with a bad habit of hoarding my stuff. But I do think that I have acquired at least a certain amount of skepticism towards commercials. My grandfather used to sit down with his kids, my mom among them, and say "Do you know what commercials are? LIES."

And it's true. Commercials tell us that buying this car will make us more successful. Using this shampoo will make us sexier/healthier. Using this acne product will turn us from spotted teens to super attractive supermodels. Buying this lingerie will make us a beast of sexiness. The truth is, what you own doesn't matter half as much as the people you have around you. What you own doesn't matter as much as your religious or spiritual beliefs. What you own doesn't matter as much as what you make of yourself and what you own.

We need to stop thinking that buying this product or that object will make us more successful in life, and focus instead on being all we can be as ourselves. We define ourselves by the things we own when we should be defining ourselves by who we are as a person/sister/daughter/friend/brother/son/father/mother.

I say all this and then go back to living a material life in the hopes that I can change my own habits and persuade others around me to change their habits as well. Getting the newest iPhone doesn't make us cool. Maybe it's a useful piece of technology, but owning it doesn't change who we are. But so much emphasis of the media is used to tell us that what we own is who we are, and so we fall for the same tricks over and over again.

Have a wonderful Wednesday, I know I will. Please take a moment to appreciate the time stamp on this particular posting and wonder to yourself, "WHAT? T.A.D. is posting at 6:37 in the morning???? WHAT HAS THE WORLD COME TO???"

Actually, if I have that much emphasis on how you think, you should probably take a step away from the computer screen and go enjoy the summer.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Make 'em laugh

I love comedians.

Here are YouTube links to some of my favorite comedy bits from some of my favorite comedians.

Elvira Kurt

(4:00 onward starts a hilarious clip about airport travel)

Patton Oswalt

(Talking about the atrocities known as Star Wars Episodes 1-3)

Robin Williams

(on golf)

Eddie Izzard

(on computers and technology)

Pablo Francisco

(bad quality, but funny as hell)

I could go on. Dane Cook, Suzanne Westenhoefer, Ellen (of course), Demetri Martin, Bill Cosby, Pablo Francisco, Jeff Dunham, Stephen Lynch. The list goes on. These comedians bring joy and happiness to my life. I now share them with you in the hopes that they may bring you the same laughter that they have brought me.

Enjoy, and, as always, cheers,

-T.A.D.

P.S. Tomorrow, I am going up to NYC with my grandmother and mom and we are going to see Billy Elliott on Broadway. SO EXCITED.

Simple

Ah, if only life were as simple as it seems to be to an eleven year old.

As I mentioned yesterday, my cousin Thomas has a plan to get me a boyfriend, because, according to him, I need one. When I was here in New Jersey earlier this summer, I accompanied Thomas to his weekly Magic tournament at the Jersey Shore Hobby Store. It is with one of the nice young men that I am supposed to fall madly in love with. Over dinner yesterday night, Thomas shared his plan with me. I am going to recount the conversation for you.

Thomas: Nick (let's call him) is really nice and smart and handsome to girls I think, I don't know for sure because I'm not a girl. Do you remember him? He's the tall one with reddish hair, he has a little beard. He has a crush on you.

Me: Yes, I remember him. Wait, he has a crush on me? How would you know?

Thomas: Well his eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw you. And he asked about you the next time I showed up and you weren't there.

(Obviously this means that Nick is madly in love with me...)

Me: Well, isn't he way older than me anyway?

Thomas: He's in college, so maybe he's two years older than you. But that doesn't matter, he's not super old or I wouldn't be getting you together. So here's what you're gonna do. When you come with me to Magic, you'll ask him to play and say loser buys ice cream for me and my cousin. Then, when we all go out to ice cream, I'll sneak away. And that's that. Then you'll fall madly in love.

Me: Oh, because it's just that simple, right? What if he doesn't accept the bet?

Thomas: Then you ask him out to ice cream. I mean, how complicated could it be?

Oh Thomas, I hope you treasure these years and the simplicity that comes with them. I wish I lived in a world where getting ice cream with someone equals making a relationship work. If I did, my problems would be much more limited.

I think I'm going to do it just to humor him. No harm no foul, right? And it is just ice cream. I honestly don't have a huge recollection of Nick (it was six weeks ago that I met him). I think the best that could come out of all this is that I make a long-distance friend, which might be nice, seeing as I don't have a long list of friends that are guys (four years in an all-girls Catholic school). And the worst that could come of it would be for him to reject my offer for a frozen delicious treat. I think that would be his loss anyway. So I'm going to try the simple way. Who knows, maybe I'll look back on this post in ten years married to Nick. Weirder things have happened in the universe.

Not that I'm looking for a relationship right now, let alone marriage. Ack. Off to bed I go.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Eyes of a child

When I arrived at the beach house today, my uncle was there with his 13 month old son, who we will call William. There is something about babies, other than their obvious cute-factor, that fascinates me.

I love seeing babies interact with the world around them. Their innocence and their ability to be inspired (more like entertained) by almost everything and everyone around them is so amazing. I love seeing the wonder in their eyes. And it makes me jealous a little bit. Babies are experiencing everything so freshly and newly, so everything is unexpected and beautiful and wonderful. However, you get to your teenage years and, instead of watching the world through a lens of innocence, you see it through a web of pessimism.

The joy of an infant's laugh is so pure. The humor that amuses them is pure. We hide behind sarcasm and dark wordplay. I guess my main point is that I think we as adults (or teenagers close to adulthood) should take our cues from the infants every once in a while. Try genuinely being interested in everything around you for a whole day. No wonder babies need naps!

For tomorrow, I'm going to write about how my cousin Thomas is convinced that he needs to get me a boyfriend. He has a master plan and everything.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Relax

I am leaving for my family's beach house in New Jersey today. Well, tonight. We have a red-eye flight. And it's a transfer. Which is great...

Ah, no complaints meant. I'm really looking forward for my vacation. While I love working and I loved the workshop that just ended, I am happy about the time at the beach. The beach is one of my favorite places. I love it. We stay up late playing games together. However, the fact that I'm on vacation will probably mean that my posts for the next week or so will be shorter. Starting with today.

Not much new news. The show went amazingly well, despite my fears. I think this show and this genre has so much to offer America.

Well, have a wonderful Sunday. I'll be back with you tomorrow with a more substantial post.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

I was meant for the stage

God. I love theatre. I believe it has the power to inspire change, provoke thought, and present ideas. I believe that the relationship between the audience and the performance that you find in theatre is unique and beautiful and wonderful. There is a give and take in theatre between the performers and the audience; a connection, that I have not found in any other art forms.

Perhaps this is my ignorance. Either way, theatre has spoiled me. I've found my home in theatre. I've found a place where I can love and be loved. It is my passion; my dream. I aspire to inspire. The workshop that I've been taking for the past two weeks is culminating tomorrow in our one and only performance. It's rather astounding: the production periods for shows go on for weeks and then what? I've never been in a show that's had a run longer than a single weekend. But it's worth it. What we're doing tomorrow is different and wonderful and I love it. I am inspired by it and working in this genre has been truly a gift to me.

Slow tempo. Imagine that your everyday pace is a five on a one to ten scale. Now imagine that your five is equivalent to 100%. We work at 5% for most of the show. Approximately 35 minutes. There is no speaking, at least none audible to the audience. Everything is portrayed on a physical level. The fact that we can do this, that theatre has a place for this, makes me stand back, speechless, in awe.

Some of the best memories of my life involve theatre. It was something that I always loved doing. As a young child in my school's productions, I would stand backstage, mouthing along with the lines of the actors. When Rent went on one of its closing tours, with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal, I went with my aunt and my sister to see it. It was amazing. I have never heard so much applause and cheering.

I believe that theatre has so much potential as an art, but where it fails is in bringing in a wide enough audience. Approximately 8% of the US population goes to see a play in a year. 8%. That saddens me. Meanwhile, movie theaters and television capture more and more viewers. It is time for theatre to make a comeback.

People say that acting is merely lying. In a sense, that's true. But in another way, I have found that the moments when I have been most vulnerable and true and exposed are onstage. Acting requires you to give a certain amount of yourself to your character and to the storytelling. Yes, we put on the mask of a different person, but acting requires us to find the lines between us and them and blur those lines.

Ah hell. This post is really a disjointed series of some words that barely portray some of my thoughts about theatre. But, seeing as I have a show tomorrow, I really should stop fussing about it and go to bed.

See you tomorrow.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

We are family

The following is a poem (another that I wrote several years ago) written about me and my sister. I quite like it, but I think that now, almost four years later, I might rewrite it.

But, here is the first version. Enjoy.

Sisters

Two peas in a pod.
that’s what they call us.
they couldn’t be farther
from the truth.

your motivation, my lack thereof
my instant opinions, your hesitant ones
your optimism, my pessimism
my extrovert, your introvert
your cat, my dog

my long grudges, your quick forgiveness
your patience, my impatience
my energy, your weariness
your carefulness, my recklessness
my locked doors, your openness.

Two peas in a pod?
hardly…
though…

our reading and writing
our intelligence
our procrastination and perfectionism
our hobbies, our school, our singing, our drama
our protectiveness
our harmonies
our similarities
and our differences.

Two peas in a pod?
maybe.
But I prefer to simply say,
sisters.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Time is a healer

Or is it?

Sometimes pains and aches, both emotional and physical, can be healed with just time. Cuts scab over; bruises fade. But what about the wounds that are infected? You can't leave those to scab.

If you do, the next time you look at them, your wound has spread, pus is oozing from your skin, and it hurts a hell of a lot more. Those are the wounds that require help to heal.

I find it hard to ask for help sometimes, but I've also found that my injuries tend to get gross the longer I go without help. I guess the moral of the story is that the tale about how all you need to heal is time, that's bullshit. Sometimes it works like that, but other times, no matter how hard it is, you need to ask for help. Help heals.

Ask for a band-aid. You'll be surprised on how much it'll make you feel better.

Cheers,

T.A.D.

We know that we will always be around

Friends are pretty damn wonderful, aren't they?

In my experience, I've found that friends are the people that have the most potential to either make you feel wonderful or make you feel terrible. Getting cheered on and encouraged by friends is so much better than getting encouraged by strangers. In fact, that can be a little creepy if you have no idea where they came from or how they learned your name. And while it's easy to walk away from an insult or some other shit that a stranger throws at you, I've found that it's really not nearly as easy to take that from a friend.

It makes sense when you think about it. You let friends in, close to your heart, so they have a greater chance of healing or harming your heart. We trust our friends, so when they say something that chances are they don't even mean, it's really hard to just let it go. Those comments stick with you like bristles in your socks.

But when you're in a bad patch, it's your friends that you count on to stick with you, just like those bristles. I have a handful of friends who have stuck with me through rain and shine, and who I know (or hope) always will. Perhaps it's just my own experience, since I know that Patrick, my cousin and one of my best friends ever, has a different opinion about family, but I've found that friends are the family you choose. You don't have to love them, you choose to love them. Isn't that so much more powerful?

Here's an example: As the child of four parents, I know that all of them (in a sense) chose me. My biological mom and dad wanted another kid after my sister was born, and so here I am. I don't mean to imply anything by my next comment, since I love all my parents equally, but I get so blown away by the fact that my NON-biological mom and dad walked into my life and chose to make me their daughter. My step-mom came into my life when I was eleven months old, and my step-dad came when I was around 7. I love the fact that they had the chance to choose; to reject; and they chose me.

So when I get close to a friend, or even a member of my family, I love hitting that point in our relationship where the friendship becomes a choice. You have to love your family, but you don't necessarily have to like them. My cousin Patrick is one of my best friends, and that isn't because of convenience or because he's my cousin. It's because we both chose one another. Sometimes you get to that point, I know I have, and you or the other person is disappointed by the choice that is made. Because you don't get chosen every time. And that's what makes it so much more powerful when you do get chosen. You can look back to the times when you weren't chosen and prove that maybe the person who didn't choose you made a mistake.

This whole concept of choosing is so powerful. It applies to almost every relationship. My dog chose me, and I chose her. My step-brother chose me. Half of my parents chose me. Patrick chose me even though his religion says that I'm going to hell. Isn't that incredible? We have to be careful about the choices we make though, because, as I said at the beginning of the post, the people we choose and who choose us are then given so much potential, both for harm or for good.

So make your friends happy you chose them. And make sure they know you're happy they chose you back.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Ring around the rosie

So many children's tales, nursery rhymes, and the like, are so disturbing.

I played Ring Around the Rosie a lot when I was a kid. But let's deconstruct it for an example.

You see, it's theorized to be about the black plague.

Ring around a rosie (this refers to the round red rash, one of the first symptoms of the disease)

Pocketful of posies (flowers were believed to ward off disease)

Ashes, ashes (victims of the plague were cremated to prevent the spread)

We all fall down (dead)

Even though there are some people who say that this is merely myth and that this rhyme was not meant to refer to the plague, I think it makes sense. Even if it wasn't originally, this version seems quite clear, doesn't it?

Grimm's fairy tales are another place where you can see the disturbing nature of stories and fables meant for children.

I don't think we as a society have grown out of this tendency either. We let kids see the most violent, disturbing, and all around creepy TV and movies ever.

Just some thoughts.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

I'm a loser baby

Or not, apparently. According to a friend of mine, "drama-nerds" and "music geeks" are now "in."

Vomit. Firstly, who decides these things? I get it. TV shows like Glee have made the idea of being a drama or music nerd "cool."

I don't like the idea of cool though. On the very first day of my very first "official" acting class, our teacher shared an excerpt from a book on the topic of "coolness." I agree with most of what it says. The idea is to stop being "cool." Cool implies cold, collected, distance. Cool implies a lack of interest. Cool implies little effort. Instead of being cool, be hot. And not hot as in "OMG he's so HAWT." Hot like fire. Controlled fire, but fire all the same. Leave a mark. Try, fail, succeed. Don't stand there leaning mysteriously against a brick wall; it's frankly annoying and does not make you look mysterious, except in the sense of "why is s/he leaning against a brick wall and how can I make them stop." Don't be distanced. Be who you are, passionately and freely.

Perhaps my disdain of "cool" comes from the fact that I've never been one of the cool kids. At the Montessori school which I attended for ten years (preschool through eighth grade), I was a tomboy. Before 4th or 5th grade, there isn't even a really defined sense of coolness, so I suppose that doesn't count. I wasn't an outcast. There were kids less "cool" than me, so it's not like I was the loner of the group. I was the misfit though. By the end of 6th grade (I know, it took me this long, what?) I had finally realized (and more importantly accepted) the fact that if I looked at the girls around me as if they were pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, all fitted together and nice, I was definitely the one piece from a different puzzle that somehow got thrown in.

They made an effort, but the distancing feeling was enhanced when, at the start of 7th grade, two things happened. One, a new girl came to the school. She was definitely "cool." And she was, more importantly, not like me at all. She fit into the place that, for a while, I had thought was being saved for me. I realize now that I didn't miss anything by not fitting in. As expressed here and here, I was not your average cookie cutter pre-teen girl. Secondly, the new girl, me, and another boy in our grade, were moved up to take classes with the 8th graders.

Eighth grade came and my drama teacher introduced us with the year's show that would become a symbol of my Montessori (but mostly 4th-8th grade) years. We were to be performing "Honk!" the musical story of the ugly duckling. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but I'm pretty sure she kind of picked the show for me. She did the same thing for my sister two years previously. Needless to say, I was Ugly, the confused and ugly duckling.

I didn't really feel like a swan though, even after the transformation into high school.

I don't know what bird I most am, but I don't think it's a swan. I'm not trying to bash myself, I've just never felt graceful enough. I mean, I'm the girl that walks into doors and apologizes.

I guess the point of this post is pretty well summed up in the title. "I'm a loser baby." And proud as hell of it.

Cheers, and happy Sunday.

-T.A.D.

Nothing ever dies

In my workshop today, we did free writes. One of which I'd like to share. I think I'm going to give it to you context free, because I feel as though it's open to interpretation. The one thing I will say is that this is from the perspective of a disaster survivor. This is not the final form, and so I would appreciate any constructive criticism. As I said, this was a free write, as in write whatever comes into your head. I hope you enjoy.

If I were a boy. If I were a boy I would be gone. Stolen away, never to be seen again. But I’m not a boy. I wasn’t taken myself, but part of me was. Part of me is gone. I am left behind to disappear and be forgotten.

Stillness. So much chaos, now stillness. I lie here. Slowly. How odd it is. This hollow feeling that started there, down low. It radiates up. Hollowing my chest. Hollowing me, from the inside out. It tingles; you wouldn’t think it would tingle. You wouldn’t think it would feel smell taste sound see. Hand tingling. I watch. Unmoving. Hand rests on the floor; I feel the dirt, I see the dirt. Take a handful. Dry. Unfeeling. Hold up my hand. I can see the dirt through my closed fist. Tingling for a few more moments. The sensation moves up from my hand. My wrist. Can barely see the skin. Just the earth now. Peripherally, I notice. My elbow. My shoulder. Spreads to the left side now. I hold up my invisible hands.

Tingling, tingling, tingling. Then nothing. A ghost? A shadow of who I was? I cannot be me any longer. A shadow. Invisible. I must be. I disappear. I cannotwillnotshall not m u s t n o t b e.

The alien part of me; the me part of me; all of me. I disappear. It’s better this way. I cannot see me. I see.
Ground.

I see.
A faint silhouette. All that remains of what was once a person sister daughter protector provider.

Fading. I smile. A Cheshire Cat, a sardonic smile, the last thing to leave. The last thing to be visible.

I stand.

Feel the ground beneath my feet. Taste the wind. but I am not “I” any longer. Hollow. Nothingness.

Because you can’t hate nothing.
You can’t blame nothing.
Nothing can’t feel shame, sorrow, guilt, grief, pain, failure.
Nothing can’t think feel touch want wish cry shout yell scream hate love die live remember forget.
You can’t hurt nothing.
Nothing can.

- July 17, 2010

So that's it right now. This is the third draft with the prompt I was given, but I haven't really edited edited, more like cut certain parts to make it more general. I need to shorten it.

I think we've all felt like disappearing at one time or another though. It's an interesting thought. The idea of escaping into nothingness because nothing can hurt nothing. I think stuff like this needs to be expressed, and I'm so glad that I have a form in which I can do that. Sorry again about yesterday's post fail. At least today's (actual today today's) is my own thoughts and words rather than someone else's.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

America's on sale

Today I don't have much to say that can't be captured by the lyrics to this song. I can't say that this is an upper, nor can I take credit for it, but unfortunately I have very little time this lovely friday afternoon. One of my best friends is over and I can't be too anti-social.

Enjoy, and I hope this gives you something to think about.

This is a song/poem by Alix Olson, a very outspoken lesbian feminist. Her lyrics always make me think.

[america's on sale]

ATTENTION SHOPPERS!!!
attention 9 to 5 folk, cell-phone masses,
the up and coming classes.
attention sports-utility,
plastic-surgery suburbanites,
viagra-popping, gucci-shopping urbanites.
attention george-clooney loonies,
promise-keeper sheep,
stockbroker sleep-walkers,
big investment talkers,
ricki lake-watchers.
attention walmart congregation,
shop til you drop generation,
ATTENTION NATION!
AMERICA’S ON SALE!

We’ve unstocked the welfare pantry
to restock the wall street gentry
it’s economically elementary
because values don’t pay,
yes, american dreams are on permanent layaway!
(there was limited availability anyway)
the statue of liberty is being dismantled,
ten dollars a piece to sit on your mantle
or hang on your wall
by the small somalian child
you bought from sally struthers
sisters and brothers, it’s now or never,
these deals won’t last forever-
AMERICA’S ON SALE!
(restrictions may apply if you’re black, gay or female)

And shoppers!
global perspective is ninety-ninety percent off
cause most of the world don’t count to us.
our ethic inventory is low
because moral business has been slow,
the values-company is moving to mexico--
and ALL ETHICS MUST GO!

It’s a remote control America that’s on sale
because standing up for justice can’t compare
to clicking through it from a lazy chair--
Answer: jerry, montel, oprah
Question: folks who really care!
for a million dollars!
in this new mcveggie burger world order
where the mainstream scene has an alternative theme.
where national health care is one hundred percent off!
and medicare is in the fifty percent bin,
so you can buy--half an operation
when AMERICA’S ON SALE!
There’s a close-out bid to determine
which religion will win
all the neon flashing signs of sin.
the Christian Coalition is bidding high
shoppers, you ask WHY?!
who needs a higher power when you’ve got
the purchasing power
to corner and market
one human mold.
That’s right - Real family values
are being UNDERSOLD!!

And it’s open hunting season for the NRA!
there’s a special oozie discount-- only today!
Gun control?! We say--
F--- it! Blow it all away!

Because inflation is up on the CEO ego
and power is deflated as far as we go:
Nike bought the revolution,
and law schools bought the constitution!
Tommy Hilfiger bought the red, white, and blue,
(a flag shirt for fifty dollars,
the one being burned is you!)
Marlboro bought what it means to be a man,
Lexus equals power- so get it while you can.
Maybelline bought beauty,
New York bought Rudy Guiliani,
Mastercard Gold bought the national soul
Broadway bought talent and called it CATS!
the Republicans bought out the Democrats-
they liquidated all asses in a fat white donkey sale-
now it’s buy one shmuck, get one shmuck free
in the capitalist party!
And there’s nothing left to get in the way
of a full blue-light blow-out
of the U.S. of A!
there’s a no-nothing back guarantee,
a zero-year warranty,
when you buy this land of the fritos, ruffles, lays..
this home of the braves, the chiefs, the reds, the slaves!
so call 1-800- i don’t care about shit
or www.F--- ALL OF IT!
to receive your credit for the fate of our nation-
(call now! Interest is at an all-time low)

But hurry shoppers!
because america’s being downsized, citizens,
and you’re all fired.

©2001 Alix Olson.

Chipper, no?

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

PS, I'm not sure why, maybe just because I was in a hurry, but this didn't publish yesterday. So today you get yesterdays and todays posts.

"C" is for cookie...

...and that's good enough for me.

Today's topic is very light and fluffy and delicious. Cookies are wonderful. Baked goods of all kinds are, actually. But there's something about a nicely made cookie that seems to be filled with magic. You know you have a good job when you're allowed to stand in the back licking cookie dough off a spatula and out of the mixing bowl. And when I say mixing bowl, I mean an industrial sized monster of a mixing bowl.

To me, baking, and cooking in general, is always therapeutic. I wouldn't say that I'm a food snob of any kind, but I was raised right, on home-cooked meals (mostly), fruits and veggies included. I like kitchens. I like how tangible the act of cooking is. You throw a bunch of ingredients into a bowl, mix it up, cook it (or cool it, depending on what you're making) and voila, you have the product. An edible, yummy, delicious product.

11:11! Make a wish.

Anyway, that's going to be about it for today. I've had a long day. Now one last midnight snack and I'll be sleeping away.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Somewhere in time

Timing is everything.

Whether you're catching a bus or picking a time to have an important conversation with a friend, the timing has to be right. I'm sitting on a sidewalk, hacking onto the WiFi of some hair salon that is (thankfully) nearby, due to my bad timing. After an appointment, I needed to get online to plan my bus route back home. I went to an espresso shop where they had internet, but foolishly decided that I needed coffee first. Had I merely gone online and entered my information, I would be on my first bus home right now. Instead, I'm sipping on my iced shot-in-the-dark (two sugars and cream) and sitting on a curb by a bus stop, waiting for the 66 express to come, seeing as I missed the first one.

Huh. A man with a braid in his beard just walked by me and said "you'd make a good advertisement for Mac." Um, thank you?

Anyway, back to my topic. While I would be on a bus right now if my timing had been right, I wouldn't have gotten my caffeine fix. I also wouldn't be enjoying a lovely warm breeze and writing about timing. Life is funny like that sometimes.

Time is a fickle thing. It flies when we want it to crawl, it crawls when we want it to fly. Time escapes us, time costs us, time hurts us, time heals us. Time does a variety of things to and around us. And knowing the right way to use your time and timing can be very important. In the workshop I'm doing right now, we're getting ready this week to start rehearsing a show next week. It's a slow tempo show, which means no dialogue. More importantly, it means that if your average tempo (as far as moving goes) is 100%, we're moving at 5%. That is some pretty important timing. We have done a few exercises and spent a little time in slow tempo to prepare ourselves, and while it's hard for the first while, it's really amazing. That's timing too.

Timing means knowing when to say something and when to keep quiet about it. Timing is all about the when. Other aspects of life are about the who and the where and the what, but time is the when. Timing and art, at least performing art, are inseparable in my opinion. Music, dancing, acting, all of these things rely heavily on timing. Relationships are all about timing. I'm not talking romantic, since I don't know much about those, I'm talking about familial, business, friend, whatever. You have to know when to say something, when to listen, when to ask, when to answer. You can't move too quickly or too slowly. Right now, I'm having trouble adjusting to the timing of one of my friendships. We had a tiff recently, and my friend is the type of person who, when you have a fight with her, you just need to give her time to come back to you. So I've been trying to respect that and not annoy her, but in all honesty, it's really hard to have a gap where she usually is. I hope she will fill that gap again, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she does, but most of it is on timing's shoulders.

Time is something we never seem to have enough of either, so today I challenge you to try and make time for yourself every day for a week. Even if it's five minutes or half an hour as you wait for the second bus to come while sipping a coffee.

Cheers,

T.A.D.

Sorrow

Sometimes, the world makes me sad. Maybe not the world so much as the people living in it. The things we as humans do, to each other and the world we live in, are disheartening and disturbing. We (the ensemble that makes up my theatre workshop) have been assigned to research a disaster/catastrophe and present it to the group. (More about why and what we're doing later; it's gonna be awesome) And if I believed in a god, I would be praying like crazy now. I look at our history, our present, and our future, and I see bloodshed, violence, pollution, war, genocide, terror. I cannot comprehend these things. I know they happen, and while my cynical self says "of course we go around killing each other," my hopeful side wants to cry.

Even as a country, our nation has been involved in and/or the cause of so many wars. I know that some of these wars have been deemed "necessary," and without them we would likely be a British colony. If we weren't, we would probably be two separate nations. But war makes me question, do the ends really justify the means? While I understand that Hitler needed to be stopped, and WWII needed to take place for that to happen, I also look a little farther back and think about how maybe it all would have been avoided if, in the aftermath of WWI, we as the winning nations had stopped to consider the consequences of blaming everything on Germany.

Do the ends justify the means when it means the death of millions? Do the ends justify the means when ending the war with Japan meant dropping two atomic bombs on cities? Not military bases, and yes I understand there were military there, but the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are two events in history that I will never agree with. Yes, we "gave them a warning." We told them that ultimate destruction would await them if they did not surrender. But, must I say it, duh? In war, isn't that kind of the point? Destroying someone until they give up? "Ultimate destruction." Those two words were not fair warning.

The "war on terror" is another issue, one that I won't go any further into than saying this: war is terror.

We destroy each other, cruelly. Guns and bombs and gas. Torture. I can't help but grieve for the human race. We are doing this to each other. All the time. What's more, we're doing it to the environment we live in. I don't care if you believe in global warming or not. I really don't. What I do care about are the animals dying because of our actions, whether they be overhunting, polluting their homes, whatever. No other species produces garbage, waste, like we do. People say that it's our prerogative as the most intelligent species, but I say bullshit. You cannot justify the pollution that we produce. The homes we destroy.

On the cynical side of things, if we as the collective human race continue acting in the patterns defined in our past, there will be no us, no earth, no anything, in the future.

But with darkness, there is light, and so there is hope. We have to stop doing this to each other. It's hard when we think about how we are "just one person" but we can make a difference. It starts with us and spreads from there. We have to change and evolve and start being more balanced. Wage peace, not war. Revolt with love. Retaliate with forgiveness. I know from experience, it's easier to fight fire with fire; it's easier to take revenge than put something at ease. But we have to try.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Love is...

I started my two week theatre intensive today AND started a massive purge in my room at my dads' house. I actually got done with my workshop at 4 and thought, wow, what a great post I'll have today, but then I got home and got sucked into cleaning.

So, many apologies, but seeing as I already took my sleeping pills and I'm falling asleep as I type, I don't think I can manage a real post for today.

I found a poem that I could post tonight, but I'd rather save it for another time.

Instead, I am going to share with you one of my favorite chain email things of all time.

What does Love mean?

A group of professionals posed this question to a group of 4 to 8
year-olds.

The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined.

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even after his hands got arthritis too. That's love.” Rebecca- age 8





"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.” Billy - age 4





"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.” Karl - age 5





"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs.” Chrissy - age 6





"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired.” Terri - age 4





"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK." Danny - age 7





"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss” Emily - age 8





"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen." 

Bobby - age 7

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it every day.” Noelle- 7





"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” Tommy - age 6





"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and I saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.” Cindy - age 8





"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don’t see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.” Clare - age 6





"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.” Elaine-age 5





"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day." Mary Ann - age 4





"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones." 

Lauren - age 4





"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." Karen - age 7





"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." Jessica - age 8




“If you want to learn to love better, you should start with someone who you hate.” Nikka- age 6

And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Passacaglia once talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four-year-old child whose next-door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman’s yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, “Nothing, I just helped him cry."

(This is T.A.D. again)

I think the innocence and purity of children is amazing when held in contrast with the wisdom and kindness that young ones can show. This is my favorite example of that, and these are some of my favorite definitions of love.

I'll make a real post tomorrow. Now I must go to bed before my dog gets too comfortable and makes me sleep on the floor. (She'll try too)

Cheers,

T.A.D.

Portrait of a girl

This is the long awaited (hahahahaha) part two of my endeavor to explain feminine standards and how I fail to meet them. While last time I talked about beauty and hair care products and makeup and clothing, today I'm going to talk about the more internal aspects of being a so-called girl.

(On a random tangent, I would like to add my complaint to the complaint of Trope Girl's: why is there no word that has really stuck as the guy equivalent of dude? I don't like using the word chick, and dudette seems a little surfer, so there's no real word between "girl" and "woman," which always seems weird to say. I guess it seems too stuffy or something to me, so I don't like saying "as a woman" etc)

Maybe this is a human thing or maybe this is just a girl thing, but I had a conversation with a friend a while back. We were having a little bit of an argument and trying to figure out our friendship, and she was saying that I basically feel too much. Or too openly I guess. She said that I needed to be more passive agressive; that girls are passive agressive by nature. I don't agree. I think that society makes us passive agressive. Boys are given the okay to beat the crap out of each other, but girls have to hurt each other backhandedly, through gossip and third parties. We see it on TV, in movies, passive agression is everywhere in the media.

I hate being passive agressive. I refuse to play that game anymore. I would much rather have a fight with someone, whether physical or yelling, than be silently steaming at them. I hate the way people treat you when they are passively angry at you. I think that being honest with someone and saying "you know what, I'm kind of mad at you right now" is better than sitting on it for months while everything gets worse.

I'm blunt and out there rather than subtle and introspective, which is another tally mark on how I'm not feminine. I'm still, in a lot of ways, the rough and tumble tomboy I was when I was in middle school. It's not like I can't be subtle. I can, and I am, but not in the same ways.

Other than the stereotypical female fear of spiders, I really can't think of any ways that I do fit the feminine stereotype. I'm not giggly and silly. I'm not obsessed with my appearance. I'm not boy crazy. Please, I'm not trying to say that all girls fit the stereotype, but obviously enough do that it exists.

Ah well. I hope at least some of this was coherent.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

It's so hard

I don't know why, but I seem to be finding myself in the middle a lot lately. It's a sucky place to be, in all honesty. You wind up getting hurt no matter who wins or loses. And it's always hard to see two people you care about having problems with each other. I guess I involve myself too much. I'm a good listener, I know that, but when you're a good listener, you always seem to end up hearing just enough to make you uncomfortable.

Sometimes it's great to be there for a friend and listen and give advice or whatever they need. I love being there for my friends. But being there for a friend when their problem is another friend? That's something I've never quite gotten the hang of. I always seem to end up upsetting the person who I'm supposed to be listening to by defending the person they are talking about. But at the same time, they just put me in an awkward position. Is it my fault for being there to listen and not telling them "look, this makes me uncomfortable" or is it their fault for not realizing that maybe I don't want to hear about how horrible another friend of mine is acting?

The blame game. Ugh, it's messy, it's hurtful, it's all-around awful. I hate playing it. And no matter what, the answer always seems to be both/all of you. I mean, everyone who is part of a conflict played their part, and therefore has their share of the blame.

Back to my original topic. I guess I just really hate it when people put you in the middle, or I put myself there, or whatever, because I always end up being the person holding all the blame. Suddenly it doesn't matter that Person A said this mean thing about Person C, it just matters that I am Person B and I won't pick a side. See, this is part of why I have such a strong feeling about maturity. I think it's bull. I think we learn to censure ourselves and we learn to be polite and respectful, but maturity the way most people define it is something that we say we have achieved, but actually haven't. Because here we are, still acting like five-year-olds. "Pick a side."

So I guess my message for the day is "no." Don't pick a side. Don't let them get mad at you for saying that something made you uncomfortable. You have the right to feel uncomfortable. You have the right to say, "no, I'm not going to be this middle person in this conflict because it's too much and I don't want to deal with this right now."

Funny though, because whenever we have rights, it always comes with a catch.

You always have to have the courage to use that right.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

Footprints on my heart

Today, too much time and mental prowess has passed by for me to write something between now and midnight that would resemble a coherent blog post.

Plus I've been meaning to put some more poetry on here for a while. Once again, I would like to make a disclaimer stating the fact that I wrote this poem in freshman year, though I do quite like the concept. So, if you like, constructive criticism away! No further comment.

footprints

a man crosses the street

leaving behind dark footprints,

a contrast to the white snow.

soon he has vanished from sight, but his footprints remain.

i think of the footprints i leave behind,

by simply existing.

eventually i know i will be gone,

but will my footprints remain?

breathing in the crisp air i watch.

before my very eyes the man’s footprints disappear.

the only trace of his journey down the street,

gone.

i look behind me at the snow and once more

think of the footprints i have left, not only here, but throughout my life.

i wonder:

when i am gone will my footprints also be concealed?

snow covers things.

it buries the world under a clean white blanket,

leaving no trace of what was once there.

i gaze down from my rooftop, my forbidden perch.

suddenly i realize:

snow covers houses,

roads, and yes,

even footprints. but...

not love.

not laughter.

not memories.

these are the footprints i want to leave behind.

though snow and time

will cover me when i am gone

i finally understand:

i will live on in my footprints.

in the footprints i make when i laugh with my friends

or when i cook for my family.

when i reach out a helping hand,

or when i allow someone else to reach out to me.

the wind sends shivers up my spine

as the snow dances around me.

wonder fills my soul, and i notice tears slipping down my cheeks,

freezing in the bitter cold.

i will live on in smiles

in tears

in laughter

in love.

my footprints will not be hidden or forgotten,

they will be heard of,

and felt.

and remembered...

i will live on in my footprints.

for these footprints are too powerful to be

covered by snow-

or even time.

Okay, so I lied when I said no further comments.

One of the things I love about this poem is the fact that this series of thoughts really came to me just like I wrote it. I was sitting on my roof on a snowy night, which is something I don't get to see very often in my part of the world, and this is where my mind went when I saw a man walk by and then, looking back a few minutes later, I noticed his footprints were covered. We had a snow day the next day and this whole epiphany thing was wonderfully timed because I was supposed to write a poem for my English/Literature class.

Another thing I'll comment on, while I'm at it, is how much I like the shapes of some of the stanzas in this piece. Not all of them, but some of them, namely the seventh and eleventh, just look very appealing to me. I'm not trying to toot my own vuvuzela, but I think it's pretty, for lack of a better term.

Before you comment on it, I know this poem is way too long. Sorry. One other fun fact about this poem was how I wrote it, and we were supposed to (in class) go through our poems and find what kinds of literary devices we used. I mentioned that I didn't find many (we were writing this on a typed copy of our poem). My teacher wrote me back (on the poem) a note saying that I used synecdoche, which, as a 14 year old, was something that flew right over my head. I put away the commented on poem with the rest of my papers. Then in junior year, I had an amazing British Lit teacher, and in preparation for the AP English Language exam, we went over literary devices, and one of the ones she really harped on was, no surprise, synecdoche. Summer came and I was looking through my old papers for some particular one, it might have even been this poem. I read my teacher's note and was like "OH MY GOSH. I WAS A PSYCHIC IN FRESHMAN YEAR."

Wow this has been a disgustingly long post. Thanks for sticking with me, hope it wasn't too painful.

Cheers,

-T.A.D.

(I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that I'm getting so comfortable blogging that this is probably the fifth post in a row that I've almost signed my real name on)