February 26, 2013
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How often do I change… the sticky side of the lint roller.
Estrogen. Estrogen is making me nauseous and disturbing my sleep. Might as well entertain my fleeting thoughts.
Non-melodic is a deal-breaker for me when it comes to music. I can listen to the harshest, most ear-splitting music, dark as the bottom of the coffee carafe, but as long as it has a discernible melody, i’m okay. I’ll never understand that. I’m also super-picky about how well the lead singer sings. That’s a given, though, as I’ve been singing for two decades now.
My inner Celt is coming out, and insisting that I roast some corned beef and make Col-cannon. Col-cannon is mashed potatoes and fried cabbage. I’m pretty sure at some point my inner Celt is going to make me go out and pick flowers to weave into a wreath soon too, as spring comes and everything warms up.
Why is my view of the arts so different from that of other people? Take theatre for example. I’ve been the stagehand for the past show. For the next show I’ve been promoted to lighting designer *excitement* and that will be completely different. In all the years of my training in theatre, I’ve known the art of stagecraft to be this dirty, slightly dangerous, gritty thing that I sacrifice blood and sweat for. Never really thought of it as glamorous, even when I’m an actor. Friday night, though, someone showed up that challenged that view for me. She’s the mother of one of the actors, and I guess has been with the company for a while. She was following her daughter around, and the girl always seemed pretty down-to-earth. Not the mom, though. The woman, for a community theatre production, was dressed like she was ready for a one-night-stand with Clark Gable. Glittering stones and furs from head to toe. Her heels were so high she walked like a one-woman kickline. Geez. I was sort of uncomfortable being around her, as she trounced around backstage over spilled paint and sawdust.
Until all the other compressors are ready to compress,
Rae Rae the Magnificent
Plum-mouthed and articulately pronounced.
