It surprises me that I'm still surprised by the fact that pretty much everything relates back to theatre and dramaturgy. I have to consciously stop myself from commenting in Sunday School that the topic reminds me of working with a theatre cast on a play, nearly every week. To my high school Seminary teacher who used to say that 'theatre is life, and all life is theatre' (or whatever it was along those lines you used to say): YOU ARE SO RIGHT.
I guess I also love the fact that I'm still surprised fairly regularly how often things compare themselves to dramaturgy. Last night I went to a presentation where Ari Shapiro, a reporter from NPR who's currently on the White House beat (I've watched enough military crime dramas that I TOTALLY know what that is), came and spoke and told (funny) stories that didn't make it on the air. Really - he just sat and talked. It was pretty cool. Doug Fabrizio, a radio show host from KUER, 'interviewed' him - they sat in two armchairs in the center front of the Grand Theatre stage and basically shot the breeze. Ari talked about his life and career and (lack of) career plan, which consists essentially of 'do what you enjoy and work hard and be awesome at it, and be aware of when you're ready for something else. Then look around and see what's available, and what interests you. Apply, work hard, take opportunities, and be awesome. Appreciate people. Throw terrific parties. Be a fan of people. Talk with friends who will help you ask the right questions. Keep working hard, and keep being awesome.' (None of that is any kind of direct quote - they're extrapolations from his stories.)
There was an audience Q&A section, and a few people asked questions for both Ari and Doug, which flustered Doug and delighted Ari. One person asked about the process of getting a story on the air - how and why they chose to write and present what they did, etc. One of the things Doug talked about was that one of the reasons he was doing what he was was because he loved to learn. Things are constantly fascinating to him, so he talks and writes about what he's interested in. As a radio personality, though, one of his responsibilities is to provide context for the stories he presents so that the audience has a chance to 'get it', and to also become interested. He said 'context' three or four times, and I perked up a little more each time. Another question had Doug talking about how they would look for stories that spoke to a larger picture, and how he would work to figure out how to fit everything together. He also mentioned transcribing some of his favorite radio shows, just to figure out how, exactly, a successful hosting/presenting hour actually WORKED. I very much enjoyed listening to Ari Shapiro and I've now got three+ Pink Martini albums on my Amazon wishlist, but I'm a little fangirly over Doug Fabrizio now, too.
I had no idea that the good journalists are really just dramaturgs in disguise, and I need to go listen to some more talk radio.
*
October 22, 2013
July 01, 2013
May 13, 2013
A Quote - Heh
*
Blogging is not writing -
it's graffiti with punctuation.
- from Contagion, and the only funny thing in the movie
*
April 11, 2013
Goals... and Goals
Well, my grades for the second degree averaged out to A-, at least... I think there's still hope for a different career choice!
I couldn't not.
*
Both comics (Frazz/Brevity) found here on today's date.
April 02, 2013
Blue Skies, A Little Fall of Rain
I found out I have a favorite type of weather.
That discovery was prefaced by my surprise when I walked out into it and immediately tried to wax poetic. Like, seriously, compose a poem about the weather. Oy. I left the library to walk home and the air was bright - it does that sometimes - in spite of the cluster of dark clouds over the mountain ahead to the right (interestingly, the mountain to the left was in sunlight) and the pale gray cover directly overhead. All around were swathes of blue sky, so it honestly was a little startling to walk out into the light and clear air AND feel a drizzle of raindrops! (I can't think of the right word. It was more than a smatter, but more distinctly raining than a 'drizzle' implies, except there were a whole bunch of miniature raindrops.) Anyway, I walked up the hill in fresh clean air, sunshine, and a wash of rain, all at the same time, and loved it. The breeze was just barely strong enough that the raindrops dried almost as soon as they fell - when I got home the only evidence I'd been out was that the hems on my jeans were damp.
It was invigorating, and marvelous, and I REALLY need a thesaurus. And to practice writing poetry.
And to find the right word for that kind of rain.
:-)
*
That discovery was prefaced by my surprise when I walked out into it and immediately tried to wax poetic. Like, seriously, compose a poem about the weather. Oy. I left the library to walk home and the air was bright - it does that sometimes - in spite of the cluster of dark clouds over the mountain ahead to the right (interestingly, the mountain to the left was in sunlight) and the pale gray cover directly overhead. All around were swathes of blue sky, so it honestly was a little startling to walk out into the light and clear air AND feel a drizzle of raindrops! (I can't think of the right word. It was more than a smatter, but more distinctly raining than a 'drizzle' implies, except there were a whole bunch of miniature raindrops.) Anyway, I walked up the hill in fresh clean air, sunshine, and a wash of rain, all at the same time, and loved it. The breeze was just barely strong enough that the raindrops dried almost as soon as they fell - when I got home the only evidence I'd been out was that the hems on my jeans were damp.
It was invigorating, and marvelous, and I REALLY need a thesaurus. And to practice writing poetry.
And to find the right word for that kind of rain.
:-)
*
March 06, 2013
Phraseology
I'm surprised that people still misuse the phrase '...another think coming', as in:
But if Dannai thinks that's going to stop him from doing everything in his power to make her his mate, the little witch has another thing coming.
I'm not reading the book that this blurb comes from, and a major part of the reason (besides the werewolves) is that it should read, 'If whoever thinks blah blah blah, then they have another THINK coming'. Not 'thing'. That doesn't make any sense! Someone thinks, they have another think! Think/think, see? It's not think/THING. That's just dumb.
Also, could we please deal with the whole 'could care less' debacle? The idea is that a person 'couldn't care less', as in could not possibly have any less interest in a person/situation than they do at the moment. (They are lying, of course, but that's dramatic irony, and a whole other misused issue.) When people say that they 'could care less' they are saying that they still have a certain level of caring and that it could be lower - i.e., THEY STILL CARE, when in fact they mean to say that they do not care at all any longer. 'COULDN'T care LESS.' That contraction is important, as it's the difference between a life of cool, detached sophistication and the sure fact that you'll be taking the lyin', cheatin' idiot back the minute they show up with puppy-dog eyes and a half-wilted flower. Don't be the doormat!
In conclusion:
If that lyin', cheatin' idiot thinks that Dannai could care less about his puppy-dog eyes and stupid flowers, he's got another think coming. That think, of course, is the concept that he can take his grocery-store rejects and shove 'em where the sun don't shine, because she COULDN'T care less about him and his redneck monster truck, having moved on to a life of cool, detached sophistication involving a yacht and a vaguely French accent.
See? Now that's a book I'd read.
*
But if Dannai thinks that's going to stop him from doing everything in his power to make her his mate, the little witch has another thing coming.
I'm not reading the book that this blurb comes from, and a major part of the reason (besides the werewolves) is that it should read, 'If whoever thinks blah blah blah, then they have another THINK coming'. Not 'thing'. That doesn't make any sense! Someone thinks, they have another think! Think/think, see? It's not think/THING. That's just dumb.
Also, could we please deal with the whole 'could care less' debacle? The idea is that a person 'couldn't care less', as in could not possibly have any less interest in a person/situation than they do at the moment. (They are lying, of course, but that's dramatic irony, and a whole other misused issue.) When people say that they 'could care less' they are saying that they still have a certain level of caring and that it could be lower - i.e., THEY STILL CARE, when in fact they mean to say that they do not care at all any longer. 'COULDN'T care LESS.' That contraction is important, as it's the difference between a life of cool, detached sophistication and the sure fact that you'll be taking the lyin', cheatin' idiot back the minute they show up with puppy-dog eyes and a half-wilted flower. Don't be the doormat!
In conclusion:
If that lyin', cheatin' idiot thinks that Dannai could care less about his puppy-dog eyes and stupid flowers, he's got another think coming. That think, of course, is the concept that he can take his grocery-store rejects and shove 'em where the sun don't shine, because she COULDN'T care less about him and his redneck monster truck, having moved on to a life of cool, detached sophistication involving a yacht and a vaguely French accent.
*
January 30, 2013
The Insanity Defense
Just as I was heading out the door this evening I realized I hadn't blown out a scented candle I had burning in a jar in my room. Before I snuffed it, though, I saw there was a ridge of unmelted wax around one side, and my OCD (undiagnosed, but...) I smush that ridge down so the whole thing would melt evenly. Using the end of a plastic spoon I angled around the flame and under the top of the jar to get to the ridge, pulling it down into the melted wax. Then the spoon slipped - I found myself with a hand- and face-full of (black) melted wax spatters. The first thought was 'I'm burning! No, not burning - is it going to burn? DON'T MOVE' followed by the discovery that while the wax had fortunately not been hot enough to burn, I was now covered in it, scarf, coat, and all. My next thought was to photographically document the moment and update my Facebook status.
Seriously.
There are a couple of surprises today - the main was was realizing just how trained we have become to sharing everything electronically. The refrain 'pictures or it didn't happen!' is practically reality - seemingly an actual reality for me, as I immediately took a picture of myself with my phone, getting a wax-covered hand into the shot with my face, and then went upstairs to present the incident to my father. He told whoever he was talking to on the phone that his daughter looked like a 'chocolate-chip cookie' for some reason.
Remember how when some embarrassing or silly accident happened you used to look around furtively and hope no one had seen you? And how you'd try to forget it had ever occurred until you suddenly remembered it months or years later when you were trying to win a 'Most Embarrassing Story' contest? I think that Facebook, with its voracious and insatiable appetite for updates and information, has bred that tendency out of us. Now nothing has happened unless there is photographic evidence and some kind of validation. I'm not quite sure if this is a good thing or not - we seem to be gradually growing less and less discretionary, but we might also be getting more and more relatably human. It's hard to stand in awe of someone who uploads a picture of themselves wearing wax splatters and a sheepish smirk; it's maybe easy to see yourself doing the same thing.
(In retrospect, I'm not sure I'll post my picture. Vanity may beat out a need for validation - or perhaps there's still a touch of discretionary embarrassment surviving still. Also...)
In other news, the next surprise of the day came when, after cleaning the wax off my hands (non-burning candle wax peels easily off skin, did you know?) I remembered I still hadn't blown out the candle. Seeing I hadn't actually finished pressing down the unmelted ridge, I reached for my spoon and went at it AGAIN - and AGAIN, the spoon slipped and I got a SECOND splatter. See the post title; what did I actually think would happen?
Pressing the wax out of the fabric of my scarf and coat with an iron between towels worked pretty well; we'll see tomorrow if the mark will come all the way out of my shirt.
I'm still picking bits of wax out of my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.
At least I smell good!
*
Apropos of nothing other than the fact that I love it, THIS:
*
Seriously.
There are a couple of surprises today - the main was was realizing just how trained we have become to sharing everything electronically. The refrain 'pictures or it didn't happen!' is practically reality - seemingly an actual reality for me, as I immediately took a picture of myself with my phone, getting a wax-covered hand into the shot with my face, and then went upstairs to present the incident to my father. He told whoever he was talking to on the phone that his daughter looked like a 'chocolate-chip cookie' for some reason.
Remember how when some embarrassing or silly accident happened you used to look around furtively and hope no one had seen you? And how you'd try to forget it had ever occurred until you suddenly remembered it months or years later when you were trying to win a 'Most Embarrassing Story' contest? I think that Facebook, with its voracious and insatiable appetite for updates and information, has bred that tendency out of us. Now nothing has happened unless there is photographic evidence and some kind of validation. I'm not quite sure if this is a good thing or not - we seem to be gradually growing less and less discretionary, but we might also be getting more and more relatably human. It's hard to stand in awe of someone who uploads a picture of themselves wearing wax splatters and a sheepish smirk; it's maybe easy to see yourself doing the same thing.
(In retrospect, I'm not sure I'll post my picture. Vanity may beat out a need for validation - or perhaps there's still a touch of discretionary embarrassment surviving still. Also...)
In other news, the next surprise of the day came when, after cleaning the wax off my hands (non-burning candle wax peels easily off skin, did you know?) I remembered I still hadn't blown out the candle. Seeing I hadn't actually finished pressing down the unmelted ridge, I reached for my spoon and went at it AGAIN - and AGAIN, the spoon slipped and I got a SECOND splatter. See the post title; what did I actually think would happen?
Pressing the wax out of the fabric of my scarf and coat with an iron between towels worked pretty well; we'll see tomorrow if the mark will come all the way out of my shirt.
I'm still picking bits of wax out of my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes.
At least I smell good!
*
Apropos of nothing other than the fact that I love it, THIS:
*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)