Let's dwell on the positive to get our minds off the "ground zero mosque" controversy. (It's NOT a mosque and it's NOT at ground zero, you idiots! But we're not talking about that right now...)
-I bought all the "Ocean's" movies last night for $10.00. (Those of you who know me know this means I'm skipping two meals this week.)
-Bernadette Peters is going to do "Follies" at the Kennedy Center.
-Once you're no longer a student, the end of summer is not a sad time. It means your TV shows are starting up again.
-I haven't had a Little Caesar's pizza since I moved to California. (This is a big step for me.)
-The place I'm moving into in Washington has a TV on the fridge door. I think. Isn't that cool? I don't think I'll ever use it, but I like to see my rent go to good use like that.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The "ground zero mosque" rant...
I am freaking out about the controversy surrounding this Muslim community center in New York. (Check out http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2011400,00.html if you don't know what I'm talking about.)
I don't have anything terribly interesting or original to say about it. In fact, I find it ridiculous that this debate is even happening. (Fair warning: anyone who uses the words "victory mosque" will receive a slap in the face from me.)
What's interesting to me is how passionately I feel about this. Maybe it's because it disrupts the romantic notion I've always had that things like Jim Crow laws and Japanese internment camps were behind us. Maybe it's because I belong to a religious group that has known its share of intolerance in a nation that pretends to believe in religious freedom. Maybe it's because I just finished reading "Fahrenheit 451," a book that makes me feel irate about everything. (Footnote: I dreamed last night that I was being chased by the cops for having a book of Calvin and Hobbes comics. Some people from church in a minivan reported me.) I've been getting increasingly restless over the last few days. Good thing I have a big dramatic move to look forward to or I might do something really outrageous. Like dye my hair blue or eat a whole pizza.
I've decided this sporadic shallow activism has to stop. From now on, apathy about everything. Just kidding. I'm going to become better informed, develop strong opinions about things, and rant about them on this blog. How does that sound?
I don't have anything terribly interesting or original to say about it. In fact, I find it ridiculous that this debate is even happening. (Fair warning: anyone who uses the words "victory mosque" will receive a slap in the face from me.)
What's interesting to me is how passionately I feel about this. Maybe it's because it disrupts the romantic notion I've always had that things like Jim Crow laws and Japanese internment camps were behind us. Maybe it's because I belong to a religious group that has known its share of intolerance in a nation that pretends to believe in religious freedom. Maybe it's because I just finished reading "Fahrenheit 451," a book that makes me feel irate about everything. (Footnote: I dreamed last night that I was being chased by the cops for having a book of Calvin and Hobbes comics. Some people from church in a minivan reported me.) I've been getting increasingly restless over the last few days. Good thing I have a big dramatic move to look forward to or I might do something really outrageous. Like dye my hair blue or eat a whole pizza.
I've decided this sporadic shallow activism has to stop. From now on, apathy about everything. Just kidding. I'm going to become better informed, develop strong opinions about things, and rant about them on this blog. How does that sound?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
May I return to the beginning...
One fateful Saturday, Pat and Lisa Greene told their six-year-old son Matthew they were going to see a play. I liked the word "play" so I went along with the idea of being quiet and still in a strange place. It was "Rumplestiltskin" and I was called up on stage when they asked for a volunteer from the audience. And so it began.
We went back to that little theatre several times and I started doing shows at another community theatre (playing illustrious roles like Stewart Little in..."Stewart Little"). In 1998 Lola Agulair, a family friend, took me and her daughter Alex to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" at the Sacramento Music Circus. I'd heard about the Music Circus from a number of people, most notably my short-tempered director from numerous productions. The consensus was that I HAD to see a show there. Music Circus WAS (and really still IS) Sacramento theatre.
And so we went. It starred Eric Kunze and Mary Gordon Murray (who had a voice the likes of which I had never heard before)and I was AMAZED. Awed by the talent, delighted by the songs, boyishly in love with Potiphar's wife. If I didn't know it by then, this production clinched it: this was my future.
Fast forward. Double my age. And "Joseph" is back at the Music Circus. I have a degree in theatre and a somewhat impressive (for a 24-year-old recent graduate) resume. I have performed in "Joseph" and many other shows. I have a nametag (three, actually) from Music Circus. I'm on the cast list for two of their shows this summer and listed as an "Artistic Assistant" in all the programs. And I'm back at the same theatre seeing it again.
I know this show backwards and forwards but there are still some surprises. Richard Stafford's direction is whimsical and inventive and Maz Von Essen's "Close Every Door" blows Donny Osmond out of the water and is surprisingly stirring, even to someone like me who things the song is shallow and completely out of place in the show.
Still, my love affair with "Joseph" died out a long time ago. I think it's overdone, indulgent, repetitive, etc. Any "theatre person" has heard the critiques before and anybody else doesn't care. I couldn't help but wonder as I sat there, though, what happened to that bright-eyed kid who thought any professional production was flawless, any professional actor was a demigod or -goddess, and any show with upbeat pop-inspired music was a masterpiece worthy of repeated cast recording listening sessions.
I'm way smarter than I was when I was twelve. I've traveled the world, graduated twice, fallen in love, fallen out, read countless books, seen more theatre than fifty average people combined, and left things like "Joseph" (and "Phantom" and "Peter Pan" and, yes, "Rumplestiltskin") behind me. Way smarter. But happier?
Have I lost something, now that I can't sit transfixed by a sparkly musical? Analytical tendencies and overly-critical attitudes aside, I have to admit that some of the magic is gone. Now it's about creating that magic for others, others who will buy tickets and put food on my table. But to what end? Until they get smart enough not to be fooled anymore?
Not to say I don't love going to the theatre anymore. I'm going tonight. But as the overture began, the house lights went down and the gasp and hush fell over the crowd, I definitely envied the hushers and gaspers their heady anticipation. Half my life ago, I felt the same way, in the same place, with the same show. Now it takes more than colorful costumes and belted power ballads to get my heart racing.
Growing up, huh?
We went back to that little theatre several times and I started doing shows at another community theatre (playing illustrious roles like Stewart Little in..."Stewart Little"). In 1998 Lola Agulair, a family friend, took me and her daughter Alex to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" at the Sacramento Music Circus. I'd heard about the Music Circus from a number of people, most notably my short-tempered director from numerous productions. The consensus was that I HAD to see a show there. Music Circus WAS (and really still IS) Sacramento theatre.
And so we went. It starred Eric Kunze and Mary Gordon Murray (who had a voice the likes of which I had never heard before)and I was AMAZED. Awed by the talent, delighted by the songs, boyishly in love with Potiphar's wife. If I didn't know it by then, this production clinched it: this was my future.
Fast forward. Double my age. And "Joseph" is back at the Music Circus. I have a degree in theatre and a somewhat impressive (for a 24-year-old recent graduate) resume. I have performed in "Joseph" and many other shows. I have a nametag (three, actually) from Music Circus. I'm on the cast list for two of their shows this summer and listed as an "Artistic Assistant" in all the programs. And I'm back at the same theatre seeing it again.
I know this show backwards and forwards but there are still some surprises. Richard Stafford's direction is whimsical and inventive and Maz Von Essen's "Close Every Door" blows Donny Osmond out of the water and is surprisingly stirring, even to someone like me who things the song is shallow and completely out of place in the show.
Still, my love affair with "Joseph" died out a long time ago. I think it's overdone, indulgent, repetitive, etc. Any "theatre person" has heard the critiques before and anybody else doesn't care. I couldn't help but wonder as I sat there, though, what happened to that bright-eyed kid who thought any professional production was flawless, any professional actor was a demigod or -goddess, and any show with upbeat pop-inspired music was a masterpiece worthy of repeated cast recording listening sessions.
I'm way smarter than I was when I was twelve. I've traveled the world, graduated twice, fallen in love, fallen out, read countless books, seen more theatre than fifty average people combined, and left things like "Joseph" (and "Phantom" and "Peter Pan" and, yes, "Rumplestiltskin") behind me. Way smarter. But happier?
Have I lost something, now that I can't sit transfixed by a sparkly musical? Analytical tendencies and overly-critical attitudes aside, I have to admit that some of the magic is gone. Now it's about creating that magic for others, others who will buy tickets and put food on my table. But to what end? Until they get smart enough not to be fooled anymore?
Not to say I don't love going to the theatre anymore. I'm going tonight. But as the overture began, the house lights went down and the gasp and hush fell over the crowd, I definitely envied the hushers and gaspers their heady anticipation. Half my life ago, I felt the same way, in the same place, with the same show. Now it takes more than colorful costumes and belted power ballads to get my heart racing.
Growing up, huh?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
How can you read this? There's no pictures.
This blog is GRAY. How BORING. Here are three pictures. (Or eight, sort of. The combo image really spoke to me.) I keep meaning to use more pictures on here so this is my way of making up for it.
Status
Things are very rarely new. They're improved (VHS --> DVD --> BluRay, which I am NOT on board with, by the way), they're reinvented (the New Beatle, for example), or they're just regurgitated ("Shrek," --> "Shrek" sequels --> "Shrek" the musical --> and on and on). BUT I think there is something my generation has come up with all on their very own. Now, before we start getting excited or proud of our clever selves, wait to see where this is going...The Facebook status.
What is the "good ol' days" equivalent of a Facebook status? I submit there was none. What exactly the Facebook status has done for us? I cannot say. But it's ours and we use it...if not well then at least thoroughly. Here are some currently showing up on my page. (Names have been eliminated to protect privacy.)
----- what the hell is going on tonight PEOPLE!!!!
This alarms me. I assume this guy is just excited for his Thursday night and wants to see what festivities his friends have prepared for him. But, really? Four exclamation points? And let's think for a minute about the use of uppercase vs. lowercase letters. I really hope someone hangs out with him; it might be dangerous not to.
----- anyone want to go to a pub and learn about Narwhals with me next Tues at 7?
Wow. Huh. Okay. Congratulations, your life is more interesting than mine.
----- the vinegar is bitter.
Sometimes ambiguity is a great way to get attention. You'll find yourself alone at home on a Friday night posting something like "and there it goes" or "but it really was a giant panther" to make people wonder what's going on and, thus, remember you exist.
----- Needs to pack....!
What really puzzles me is the punctuation here. I have personally used "...?" many times, but "....!" was a mystery to me. The elipses seem to negate the exclamation point. After much consideration I decided it denotes someone falling off a cliff, their voice trailing off, followed by a crash/thud/splat at the bottom. In which case, I don't think this girl will be packing anything any time soon.
----- 29 days til my birthday!!
You just want to cry for these people.
(By the way, mine is in ten. Days. My birthday.)
What is the "good ol' days" equivalent of a Facebook status? I submit there was none. What exactly the Facebook status has done for us? I cannot say. But it's ours and we use it...if not well then at least thoroughly. Here are some currently showing up on my page. (Names have been eliminated to protect privacy.)
----- what the hell is going on tonight PEOPLE!!!!
This alarms me. I assume this guy is just excited for his Thursday night and wants to see what festivities his friends have prepared for him. But, really? Four exclamation points? And let's think for a minute about the use of uppercase vs. lowercase letters. I really hope someone hangs out with him; it might be dangerous not to.
----- anyone want to go to a pub and learn about Narwhals with me next Tues at 7?
Wow. Huh. Okay. Congratulations, your life is more interesting than mine.
----- the vinegar is bitter.
Sometimes ambiguity is a great way to get attention. You'll find yourself alone at home on a Friday night posting something like "and there it goes" or "but it really was a giant panther" to make people wonder what's going on and, thus, remember you exist.
----- Needs to pack....!
What really puzzles me is the punctuation here. I have personally used "...?" many times, but "....!" was a mystery to me. The elipses seem to negate the exclamation point. After much consideration I decided it denotes someone falling off a cliff, their voice trailing off, followed by a crash/thud/splat at the bottom. In which case, I don't think this girl will be packing anything any time soon.
----- 29 days til my birthday!!
You just want to cry for these people.
(By the way, mine is in ten. Days. My birthday.)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The story of "A"
As the dense fog of night abated, Natalie awoke to find that someone had absconded with her stamp collection. Though she typically abstained from alcohol, Natalie had made an exception the night before. Perhaps it was the surreal hovering mist, perhaps the veritable abyss of heartbreak and self-pity she seemed to be falling into. Dominic, her only companion for the evening, had laughed as she adulterated her vodka with water, assuming the role of advocate for moral irresponsibility.
Dominick, of course, was the most plausible suspect, he having been fascinated with the aesthetic of vintage American stamps since the fateful night she shared her obsession with him. The collection aggrandized her in his eyes and he had come by more frequently ever since. But Dominick was no thief and he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table after the previous night's binging had done nothing to alleviate his headache.
Precious stamp collections and wild drinking binges were a dangerous amalgamation but there was nothing ambiguous about what had happened between Natalie and her loyal downstairs neighbor. Maybe finding the stamps would ameliorate what was destined to be a painful morning anyway, the morning she would have to break her neighbor's heart.
His Chuck Taylors were charmingly anachronistic in her sleek modern kitchen and for a moment she considered letting him sleep. Waking him now seemed analogous to a stewardess rousing a slumbering passenger only to let him know there was turbulence ahead. Maybe last night was just an anomaly and he hadn't meant what he said; maybe the turbulence was past.
Deciding she wasn't ready to antagonize the only man who was yet to let her down, she resumed her search. Maybe it had been Esther, Natalie's elderly neighbor whose antipathy for everyone in the building could quite possibly lead her to break and enter and steal a valuable collection. Natalie suspected the doorman for a moment but realized his characteristic apathy would quench any inkling toward criminal activity. No, not the doorman, though she would keep him in mind if anyone needed to arbitrate a dispute between Natalie and Esther.
Dominic looked embarrassed as he woke up, his archaic ideal of chivalry having been broached by his unsolicited sleepover. She remembered the ardor with which Dominic had assured her she deserved much more than her ex-boyfriend could offer her. She remembered how he had searched for words to articulate how he felt about her, how he tried to assuage the shock with nervous smiles and shrugs.
"Good morning." Now it was Natalie's turn to smile nervously to attenuate what she was sure was a fierce hangover and fiercer embarrassment. Then, audatiously, "There's something I have to tell you."
He looked at her with an austerity she had never seen. "Is it about your stamps? Because I threw them out the window when I realized you could never love me."
(This story brought to you by the letter A. Yes, all of the GRE words in my book that start with A. Can you find them all?)
Dominick, of course, was the most plausible suspect, he having been fascinated with the aesthetic of vintage American stamps since the fateful night she shared her obsession with him. The collection aggrandized her in his eyes and he had come by more frequently ever since. But Dominick was no thief and he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table after the previous night's binging had done nothing to alleviate his headache.
Precious stamp collections and wild drinking binges were a dangerous amalgamation but there was nothing ambiguous about what had happened between Natalie and her loyal downstairs neighbor. Maybe finding the stamps would ameliorate what was destined to be a painful morning anyway, the morning she would have to break her neighbor's heart.
His Chuck Taylors were charmingly anachronistic in her sleek modern kitchen and for a moment she considered letting him sleep. Waking him now seemed analogous to a stewardess rousing a slumbering passenger only to let him know there was turbulence ahead. Maybe last night was just an anomaly and he hadn't meant what he said; maybe the turbulence was past.
Deciding she wasn't ready to antagonize the only man who was yet to let her down, she resumed her search. Maybe it had been Esther, Natalie's elderly neighbor whose antipathy for everyone in the building could quite possibly lead her to break and enter and steal a valuable collection. Natalie suspected the doorman for a moment but realized his characteristic apathy would quench any inkling toward criminal activity. No, not the doorman, though she would keep him in mind if anyone needed to arbitrate a dispute between Natalie and Esther.
Dominic looked embarrassed as he woke up, his archaic ideal of chivalry having been broached by his unsolicited sleepover. She remembered the ardor with which Dominic had assured her she deserved much more than her ex-boyfriend could offer her. She remembered how he had searched for words to articulate how he felt about her, how he tried to assuage the shock with nervous smiles and shrugs.
"Good morning." Now it was Natalie's turn to smile nervously to attenuate what she was sure was a fierce hangover and fiercer embarrassment. Then, audatiously, "There's something I have to tell you."
He looked at her with an austerity she had never seen. "Is it about your stamps? Because I threw them out the window when I realized you could never love me."
(This story brought to you by the letter A. Yes, all of the GRE words in my book that start with A. Can you find them all?)
To review...
CAPRICIOUS: changing one's mind quickly and often.
As in...The very fact that Matthew resumed studying GRE words after we all thought he had decided against graduate school demonstrates just how capricious he can be.
Let's get one thing straight: I have NOT decided to go to grad school. I can only say that there is ONE PROGRAM which really appeals to me, a program that requires the GRE for application. (This program would not require any student loans and would actually pay me to be a student so I don't consider it in the same category as the stuff I railed against in my last post.) Obviously, this is different from preparing for and applying to numerous schools, bent on getting accepted to and getting a degree from one program or another. I would be excited to go to this particular program because I think it would be good for me. And if I happen to get an advanced degree in the process, okay.
AMELIORATE: to make better; to improve
As in...Matthew looked forward to his upcoming move to Washington DC, certain that the change would ameliorate his situation.
I know, I know...Circumstances can't make you happy. In my defense, though, I am happy now in spite of some circumstances. It's not that I'm waiting to be happy again. I'm just recognizing that my situation could be better, NEEDS to be better, in fact. Much longer in Sacramento and I'll be stuck spinning my wheels and, consequently, miserable. So, eastward I go!
GREGARIOUS: outgoing, sociable
As in...Matthew, at times, has been known to be quite gregarious, but his social life has deteriorated significantly as of late.
Why does every social gathering available to me sounds so unappealing and painful? You mean I'm going to introduce myself fifty different times to fifty different people and regurgitate personal information they don't care about for an entire evening? You mean we're all going to take our shirts off and jump off a waterfall (honestly, how many opportunities to be emasculated could I possibly squeeze into one afternoon)? Does anyone think I'll give up a house to myself and a refrigerator full of string cheese for any of that? Yikes.
As in...The very fact that Matthew resumed studying GRE words after we all thought he had decided against graduate school demonstrates just how capricious he can be.
Let's get one thing straight: I have NOT decided to go to grad school. I can only say that there is ONE PROGRAM which really appeals to me, a program that requires the GRE for application. (This program would not require any student loans and would actually pay me to be a student so I don't consider it in the same category as the stuff I railed against in my last post.) Obviously, this is different from preparing for and applying to numerous schools, bent on getting accepted to and getting a degree from one program or another. I would be excited to go to this particular program because I think it would be good for me. And if I happen to get an advanced degree in the process, okay.
AMELIORATE: to make better; to improve
As in...Matthew looked forward to his upcoming move to Washington DC, certain that the change would ameliorate his situation.
I know, I know...Circumstances can't make you happy. In my defense, though, I am happy now in spite of some circumstances. It's not that I'm waiting to be happy again. I'm just recognizing that my situation could be better, NEEDS to be better, in fact. Much longer in Sacramento and I'll be stuck spinning my wheels and, consequently, miserable. So, eastward I go!
GREGARIOUS: outgoing, sociable
As in...Matthew, at times, has been known to be quite gregarious, but his social life has deteriorated significantly as of late.
Why does every social gathering available to me sounds so unappealing and painful? You mean I'm going to introduce myself fifty different times to fifty different people and regurgitate personal information they don't care about for an entire evening? You mean we're all going to take our shirts off and jump off a waterfall (honestly, how many opportunities to be emasculated could I possibly squeeze into one afternoon)? Does anyone think I'll give up a house to myself and a refrigerator full of string cheese for any of that? Yikes.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The straight dope and five reasons I don't want to go to grad school...
I don't blog very much. I have promised many times that I will be better about this but I never seem to follow through. So I'm not making any promises or resolutions or witty remarks about how ironic it is that a writer like me doesn't like to write most of the time. I'll just get on with it.
(I will say this: haveing seventy-five blogs, or however many I have started and abandoned like a blogging baby daddy, is not ideal and I will only be posting here now. Maybe that way I will be able to...Nope, no promises.)
My life is very boring right now. By "right now" I don't mean "these days" or "as of late," though I do feel that way at times. No, I mean literally right now as I'm waiting for it to be 6:00 and, thus, time to go home from work. While we wait, let me share some things with you:
Allegedly, the best way to tell the difference between a muffin and a cupcake (note the subjectivity of the word "best" here) is to throw them aganst a wall and listen for either a "poof" or a "thud." This is for real, it came from the internet. If you're wondering if I'll be trying this while I have my family's house to myself this week, stop wondering.
I tried to play Werewolves with my extended family last week and my Grandpa, gotta love him, was NOT amused. You see, he was a werewolf and when he was prompted by the moderator to choose someone he wanted to kill he promptly closed his eyes and refused to play any more. This game, by the way, is awesome and if I had enough friends in Sacramento I would have people over to play sometime. It is not nearly as nerdy as it sounds but I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you anyway.
Does anyone accept Discover cards?
In the courtyard of the Music Circus there is a fountain. I've observed so many people focused intently on this fountain for long periods of time and have done so myself on more than one occasion. I only wish I could write something that could capture and hold people's attention so easily.
And now, for a list...Why I don't want to go to grad school. Yet, I should say, "Why I don't want to go to grad school YET." (This just in, I can't decide whether the voice I'm hearing at my right is a male or female. I'm turning my head to look...And it's a woman. Mystery solved.) Back to grad school. Or to NOT going to grad school. It seems like my receiving my MFA in something or other is a foregone conclusion: you get your bachelor's, you putter around for a few years with big dreams, you get your master's, you work for years at a job you hate to pay off your student loans you incurred in the process of getting your master's, you wake up forty, disillusioned, and sad. So anyway, some reasons I have:
1. It seems to be a foregone conclusion that I will. And so screw you, establishment. (I'm so hardcore.) Being successful without one is really the only way I can prove that you don't need one.
2. Staged readings with talkback sessions. Ever sat through one? Want a program that's based on doing a lot of them? Me neither.
3. Your mom goes to college. Okay, no. That is not my reason. I do, however, want to point out that the people who made that movie did so without a master's. And they have more money than you do.
4. Writing a thesis. See also being attacked by carpenter ants.
5. Because I'm so afraid I'm going to end up there anyway, despite my lists or supposed solidarity right now. It's going to happen, I just know it! And it really pisses me off!
It's time to not be writing this anymore. Thank you for coming and I might see you soon, I might not. Okay? No promises.
But I'll write again soon, really.
(I will say this: haveing seventy-five blogs, or however many I have started and abandoned like a blogging baby daddy, is not ideal and I will only be posting here now. Maybe that way I will be able to...Nope, no promises.)
My life is very boring right now. By "right now" I don't mean "these days" or "as of late," though I do feel that way at times. No, I mean literally right now as I'm waiting for it to be 6:00 and, thus, time to go home from work. While we wait, let me share some things with you:
Allegedly, the best way to tell the difference between a muffin and a cupcake (note the subjectivity of the word "best" here) is to throw them aganst a wall and listen for either a "poof" or a "thud." This is for real, it came from the internet. If you're wondering if I'll be trying this while I have my family's house to myself this week, stop wondering.
I tried to play Werewolves with my extended family last week and my Grandpa, gotta love him, was NOT amused. You see, he was a werewolf and when he was prompted by the moderator to choose someone he wanted to kill he promptly closed his eyes and refused to play any more. This game, by the way, is awesome and if I had enough friends in Sacramento I would have people over to play sometime. It is not nearly as nerdy as it sounds but I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you anyway.
Does anyone accept Discover cards?
In the courtyard of the Music Circus there is a fountain. I've observed so many people focused intently on this fountain for long periods of time and have done so myself on more than one occasion. I only wish I could write something that could capture and hold people's attention so easily.
And now, for a list...Why I don't want to go to grad school. Yet, I should say, "Why I don't want to go to grad school YET." (This just in, I can't decide whether the voice I'm hearing at my right is a male or female. I'm turning my head to look...And it's a woman. Mystery solved.) Back to grad school. Or to NOT going to grad school. It seems like my receiving my MFA in something or other is a foregone conclusion: you get your bachelor's, you putter around for a few years with big dreams, you get your master's, you work for years at a job you hate to pay off your student loans you incurred in the process of getting your master's, you wake up forty, disillusioned, and sad. So anyway, some reasons I have:
1. It seems to be a foregone conclusion that I will. And so screw you, establishment. (I'm so hardcore.) Being successful without one is really the only way I can prove that you don't need one.
2. Staged readings with talkback sessions. Ever sat through one? Want a program that's based on doing a lot of them? Me neither.
3. Your mom goes to college. Okay, no. That is not my reason. I do, however, want to point out that the people who made that movie did so without a master's. And they have more money than you do.
4. Writing a thesis. See also being attacked by carpenter ants.
5. Because I'm so afraid I'm going to end up there anyway, despite my lists or supposed solidarity right now. It's going to happen, I just know it! And it really pisses me off!
It's time to not be writing this anymore. Thank you for coming and I might see you soon, I might not. Okay? No promises.
But I'll write again soon, really.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Bathsheba's Untimely End and Matthew's Promising Beginning
A funny thing happened on the way to Sacramento. As those who follow my Tweets and Facebook statuses (stati?) can verify, I had a little adventure in Nevada on Thursday and Friday. (Oh, and lest we be misled, I am in no way bragging about the fact that I Tweet and Facebook, or that people follow me for that matter.) To make a long (and not very exciting) story short (and even less exciting) I broke down halfway between Winnemucca and Lovelock at about midnight on Thursday night. ("Matthew, what were you doing driving so late?" "That isn't safe!" "You need to be more careful!" Okay, we have all those taken care of; let's move on.)
So, the tow truck dropped me off at a strange little casino in Winnemucca where I stayed the night. (Pause for visual aid.)
The next day, the executive decision was made to cut our losses and abandon the car in Nevada so my dad came out and picked me up to bring me out to Sacramento.
My Friday morning/afternoon in Winnemucca led me to a lot of pondering and soul-searching. And, as is typical, planning and goal setting. I pulled out a notebook and started outlining the next phase of my life, detailing what I wanted to do with myself, where I want to end up, how I can achieve the lofty goals I've set for myself. I realized during this self examination that I need to stop thinking of my future and start thinking of the present: what am I doing right now to get what I want? I need to stop thinking of "paying the bills" and "building a career" as two separate things but believe that now is the time for the two to become one. And I felt that, despite this most recent curve ball, things are going to work out and life is going to be great.
I'm setting out to "walk on water," as it were. It might seem impossible but each step forward tells me it's not. The difference is that I won't let myself get caught off guard by the waves and the wind. I'm not going to go down pointless roads of "what-ifs." I'm just going to move forward, with or without a clear path, a set plan, a stable career, or a working car.
So, um, yeah. Bring it on, world.
So, the tow truck dropped me off at a strange little casino in Winnemucca where I stayed the night. (Pause for visual aid.)
The next day, the executive decision was made to cut our losses and abandon the car in Nevada so my dad came out and picked me up to bring me out to Sacramento.
My Friday morning/afternoon in Winnemucca led me to a lot of pondering and soul-searching. And, as is typical, planning and goal setting. I pulled out a notebook and started outlining the next phase of my life, detailing what I wanted to do with myself, where I want to end up, how I can achieve the lofty goals I've set for myself. I realized during this self examination that I need to stop thinking of my future and start thinking of the present: what am I doing right now to get what I want? I need to stop thinking of "paying the bills" and "building a career" as two separate things but believe that now is the time for the two to become one. And I felt that, despite this most recent curve ball, things are going to work out and life is going to be great.
I'm setting out to "walk on water," as it were. It might seem impossible but each step forward tells me it's not. The difference is that I won't let myself get caught off guard by the waves and the wind. I'm not going to go down pointless roads of "what-ifs." I'm just going to move forward, with or without a clear path, a set plan, a stable career, or a working car.
So, um, yeah. Bring it on, world.
My Graduation Speech
Good morning, members and guests of the class of 2010. My name is Matthew Greene and I am one of the many graduates gathered here today. I am honored to be receiving a degree in Theatre Arts Studies with an emphasis in playwriting and directing and I’ve been asked to speak for a few minutes this morning.
I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll assume that everyone is honored and relieved to reach the end of a four (or, more realistically, five or six) year journey, and I don’t want to repeat the advice, the warnings, or the words of encouragement we’ve all been hearing since we applied for graduation. I’ll just share with you a certain thought that I think has entered the mind of every graduate here and refused to leave until we’d met its eye and let it sense our fear. This thought sounds something along the lines of: Several years and thousands of dollars later, I’m graduating with a degree in fine arts; have I just made a huge mistake?
This thought may have come to you, my fellow graduates, as you walked past the career fair in the Wilkinson Center on your way to another rehearsal in the Harris Fine Arts Building, or when you perused the want ads and suddenly felt decidedly unwanted. “Can you really make a career out of that?” and “How are you going to support yourself or a family?” are no longer fodder for uncles and aunts to ask us over Thanksgiving dinner. Now they comprise our reality, that crossroads we expect to hear all about at graduation ceremonies. Yes, today is an exciting day, a day for us to wiggle our way out from under the weight of childhood dreams, rehearsal hours, proficiency scores, and resume building to receive the diplomas we’ve worked so hard for.
But still there is the question: Have I just made a huge mistake? It’s true that we are a talented, gifted group of people. But the work we do can’t provide shelter or fuel or heat. You certainly can’t eat the things we create and I imagine we’ve all wondered if it’s even possible to sell them. Still, something brought us here and kept us out of the solace of the business school or the comfort of computer classes, something more than the whim of an eighteen-year-old freshman. For some reason we found that it was in the abstract, the poetic, or the land of onstage make-believe that the world started to make sense.
This is nothing new. We aren’t the first group of people to choose the impractical and the immaterial. Before there were editing rooms or critical theories or universities at all, there were stories told, music shared; art was created. This is more than escapism or the indulgence of a talented few. There is a basic human need that brought us to this point, one that, we hope and pray, will bring others to the work we create. There is something essential about what we do.
In talking of our essence, we remember that at our core we are made up of light and truth, of intelligence, which is distinguished in scripture as the glory of God. So, as the sons and daughters of a divine creator, children of light and truth, guided by the Spirit of Christ which “proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space,” (D&C 88:12) every man, woman, and child on Earth needs what we as artists have the opportunity to share! “For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light…” (D&C 88:40).
In other words, we are all, in one way or another, aware of where we came from and what we are made of. Mankind craves that intelligence, wisdom, truth, virtue, and light from whence we came in the same way we crave food. This is where we as artists come in. Elder Russell M. Nelson said: “Spiritually successful artists have the unique opportunity to present their feelings, opinions, ideas, and perspectives of eternity in visual and sound symbols that are universally understood. Great art touches the soul in unique and uncommon ways. Divinely inspired art speaks in the language of eternity, teaching things to the heart that the eyes and ears can never understand.”
We’re sitting in this particular convocation ceremony in this particular building because each of us has chosen this way of life, this particular road less traveled, because in the arts we found what we and everyone else in the world is looking for. Yes, I found God on my knees in prayer and in words of scripture. But I also found Him on the stage of a theatre, in the pages of a script, and in the electricity of an audience engaged.
Now we have another choice to make: the choice to use our gifts and the education we’ve received here to fill the world with light and truth. When we ask ourselves, “Have I just made a huge mistake?” we can answer with confidence and conviction that we have acknowledged the stewardship with which our Heavenly Father has entrusted us and made preparations as undergraduate students to continue His work on the earth with our gifts, our knowledge, and our intelligence. These are not “useless degrees.” These are a symbol of the commitment we’ve made to excellence, of the love we have for our God, our craft, and our fellow man.
It is the nature of faith that we surrender any supposed control of what the future may bring, how that audition will pan out, where we’ll end up months, even weeks from now. We do know this: we are committed to do what we know is right and we have faith that doors will be opened and ways will be prepared for us to do what we need to do. One thing is certain: as intimidating and hostile as the arts and entertainment industry may seem, it is nothing compared to the forces of good, the power of truth, and the light that fills the immensity of space. Now the work begins, and so does the fun. So, congratulations and good luck, my fellow members of the class of 2010.
I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll assume that everyone is honored and relieved to reach the end of a four (or, more realistically, five or six) year journey, and I don’t want to repeat the advice, the warnings, or the words of encouragement we’ve all been hearing since we applied for graduation. I’ll just share with you a certain thought that I think has entered the mind of every graduate here and refused to leave until we’d met its eye and let it sense our fear. This thought sounds something along the lines of: Several years and thousands of dollars later, I’m graduating with a degree in fine arts; have I just made a huge mistake?
This thought may have come to you, my fellow graduates, as you walked past the career fair in the Wilkinson Center on your way to another rehearsal in the Harris Fine Arts Building, or when you perused the want ads and suddenly felt decidedly unwanted. “Can you really make a career out of that?” and “How are you going to support yourself or a family?” are no longer fodder for uncles and aunts to ask us over Thanksgiving dinner. Now they comprise our reality, that crossroads we expect to hear all about at graduation ceremonies. Yes, today is an exciting day, a day for us to wiggle our way out from under the weight of childhood dreams, rehearsal hours, proficiency scores, and resume building to receive the diplomas we’ve worked so hard for.
But still there is the question: Have I just made a huge mistake? It’s true that we are a talented, gifted group of people. But the work we do can’t provide shelter or fuel or heat. You certainly can’t eat the things we create and I imagine we’ve all wondered if it’s even possible to sell them. Still, something brought us here and kept us out of the solace of the business school or the comfort of computer classes, something more than the whim of an eighteen-year-old freshman. For some reason we found that it was in the abstract, the poetic, or the land of onstage make-believe that the world started to make sense.
This is nothing new. We aren’t the first group of people to choose the impractical and the immaterial. Before there were editing rooms or critical theories or universities at all, there were stories told, music shared; art was created. This is more than escapism or the indulgence of a talented few. There is a basic human need that brought us to this point, one that, we hope and pray, will bring others to the work we create. There is something essential about what we do.
In talking of our essence, we remember that at our core we are made up of light and truth, of intelligence, which is distinguished in scripture as the glory of God. So, as the sons and daughters of a divine creator, children of light and truth, guided by the Spirit of Christ which “proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space,” (D&C 88:12) every man, woman, and child on Earth needs what we as artists have the opportunity to share! “For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light…” (D&C 88:40).
In other words, we are all, in one way or another, aware of where we came from and what we are made of. Mankind craves that intelligence, wisdom, truth, virtue, and light from whence we came in the same way we crave food. This is where we as artists come in. Elder Russell M. Nelson said: “Spiritually successful artists have the unique opportunity to present their feelings, opinions, ideas, and perspectives of eternity in visual and sound symbols that are universally understood. Great art touches the soul in unique and uncommon ways. Divinely inspired art speaks in the language of eternity, teaching things to the heart that the eyes and ears can never understand.”
We’re sitting in this particular convocation ceremony in this particular building because each of us has chosen this way of life, this particular road less traveled, because in the arts we found what we and everyone else in the world is looking for. Yes, I found God on my knees in prayer and in words of scripture. But I also found Him on the stage of a theatre, in the pages of a script, and in the electricity of an audience engaged.
Now we have another choice to make: the choice to use our gifts and the education we’ve received here to fill the world with light and truth. When we ask ourselves, “Have I just made a huge mistake?” we can answer with confidence and conviction that we have acknowledged the stewardship with which our Heavenly Father has entrusted us and made preparations as undergraduate students to continue His work on the earth with our gifts, our knowledge, and our intelligence. These are not “useless degrees.” These are a symbol of the commitment we’ve made to excellence, of the love we have for our God, our craft, and our fellow man.
It is the nature of faith that we surrender any supposed control of what the future may bring, how that audition will pan out, where we’ll end up months, even weeks from now. We do know this: we are committed to do what we know is right and we have faith that doors will be opened and ways will be prepared for us to do what we need to do. One thing is certain: as intimidating and hostile as the arts and entertainment industry may seem, it is nothing compared to the forces of good, the power of truth, and the light that fills the immensity of space. Now the work begins, and so does the fun. So, congratulations and good luck, my fellow members of the class of 2010.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A letter
Dear guy sitting next to us in Biology,
I’m sorry you’re having a hard time focusing right now. To be honest, so am I and I guess it could be for that reason that Julie and I are talking about her boyfriend’s testimony of Café Rio instead of listening to the lecture about the water cycle. I learned about this in elementary school. We sang a song. We should do that now. No, I’m not being fair to you and yes, I do feel guilty. But let me explain…
Okay, so the truth is, I am having a hard time caring at all about this class. I’m about to get a BA in Theatre Arts Studies. Is there a more useless degree? Perhaps. But don’t rain on my pity parade. (Yes, I realize having a degree in theatre is better than not having any degree at all. But, that’s not what I’m talking about.) To get this degree I’m sitting through lectures that consist mainly of tangents and vacation photos. I should be more interested in al of this. I mean, isn’t biology mentioned specifically in the Doctrine and Covenants? The fact is, though, that I see this class as a hoop to jump through. Everyone, in fact, sees this class as a hoop to jump through because those who are actually going into biology are required to take a more intense class, one where the water cycle, I imagine, is a given. (Why am I irritated by the simplistic nature of this curriculum? It means I’ll get an A in here. So, I retract those grievances. Keep cycling, water!)
So, guy sitting next to us, I can only speak for myself but I’m having a hard time connecting this class to anything in the real world. Funny, isn’t it? That in a class all about the living world I have a hard time applying it to my life. But that’s the sad truth, I’m afraid. The truth is I need this class to get a degree that, if things go my way, I have absolutely no need for. My bachelor’s is necessary for my contingency plan, I suppose, but I quite feasibly will never list my undergrad work on a single relevant resume for the rest of my life. When looked at in that context, it’s tough to get too involved in the ramblings of the sweet old man giving this lecture.
I’m glad Julie and I have a class together, not because it will in any way enhance my academic experience in this class. In fact, maybe the fact that she doesn’t come to class sometimes is the reason I did marginally well on the first midterm (86%). The reason I’m happy she’s here to experience this with me is that we seem to provide a veritable “Balm of Gilead” for one another to help deal with the day-to-day annoyances of attending BYU. (Yes, guy next to me, I know I should be grateful for the opportunity to attend BYU. Yes. And I am, truly. It does not, however, change the fact that after four years here I still have an enormously difficult time connecting to the prevailing culture at this fine institution. This is no secret. And I think it’s okay. I’ll donate to the university if I ever sell a screenplay.) It’s during biology that Julie and I unload and manage to laugh about the silly little miseries that make us grit our teeth and roll our eyes any other time. It’s important. For both of us, I think.
But, guy sitting next to us, biology lectures are neither the time nor the place for this activity. You have the right to take notes and get good grades on the remaining two tests and who am I to stand in your way? I’ve gleaned from this lecture about as much information as I would have if I had stayed in the HFAC. Because that’s what I need: more time in the HFAC.
So, thank you, guy sitting next to us. Thank you for reminding me that I have yet another thing I need to work on. I’ve found I spend much less time than most of my dear BYU friends dwelling on my own failings and imperfections. I know they’re there but I tend to believe that simply dwelling on the good things I should be doing is much more effective than thinking about the fact that I’m not doing them as well as I should be. I probably shouldn’t sacrifice biology, healthy sleeping habits, and future financial security because I feel confident in my future as a playwright. And it’s good to be reminded. Even if I resent you and your fashionable wedding ring and thoughtful questions about swamplands in Brazil. That resentment won’t last long. Let’s not lose our heads.
Take care, guy sitting next to us. Kiss your wife and study your copious notes. I won’t ask you to email them to me. I’ll ask someone else. It’s a big class.
Your classmate,
Matthew
PS: The professor said the following a few minutes ago and I thought it was poetic. (See, I’m listening!)
What have we done with the Garden of Eden?
We plowed it and planted corn.
I’m sorry you’re having a hard time focusing right now. To be honest, so am I and I guess it could be for that reason that Julie and I are talking about her boyfriend’s testimony of Café Rio instead of listening to the lecture about the water cycle. I learned about this in elementary school. We sang a song. We should do that now. No, I’m not being fair to you and yes, I do feel guilty. But let me explain…
Okay, so the truth is, I am having a hard time caring at all about this class. I’m about to get a BA in Theatre Arts Studies. Is there a more useless degree? Perhaps. But don’t rain on my pity parade. (Yes, I realize having a degree in theatre is better than not having any degree at all. But, that’s not what I’m talking about.) To get this degree I’m sitting through lectures that consist mainly of tangents and vacation photos. I should be more interested in al of this. I mean, isn’t biology mentioned specifically in the Doctrine and Covenants? The fact is, though, that I see this class as a hoop to jump through. Everyone, in fact, sees this class as a hoop to jump through because those who are actually going into biology are required to take a more intense class, one where the water cycle, I imagine, is a given. (Why am I irritated by the simplistic nature of this curriculum? It means I’ll get an A in here. So, I retract those grievances. Keep cycling, water!)
So, guy sitting next to us, I can only speak for myself but I’m having a hard time connecting this class to anything in the real world. Funny, isn’t it? That in a class all about the living world I have a hard time applying it to my life. But that’s the sad truth, I’m afraid. The truth is I need this class to get a degree that, if things go my way, I have absolutely no need for. My bachelor’s is necessary for my contingency plan, I suppose, but I quite feasibly will never list my undergrad work on a single relevant resume for the rest of my life. When looked at in that context, it’s tough to get too involved in the ramblings of the sweet old man giving this lecture.
I’m glad Julie and I have a class together, not because it will in any way enhance my academic experience in this class. In fact, maybe the fact that she doesn’t come to class sometimes is the reason I did marginally well on the first midterm (86%). The reason I’m happy she’s here to experience this with me is that we seem to provide a veritable “Balm of Gilead” for one another to help deal with the day-to-day annoyances of attending BYU. (Yes, guy next to me, I know I should be grateful for the opportunity to attend BYU. Yes. And I am, truly. It does not, however, change the fact that after four years here I still have an enormously difficult time connecting to the prevailing culture at this fine institution. This is no secret. And I think it’s okay. I’ll donate to the university if I ever sell a screenplay.) It’s during biology that Julie and I unload and manage to laugh about the silly little miseries that make us grit our teeth and roll our eyes any other time. It’s important. For both of us, I think.
But, guy sitting next to us, biology lectures are neither the time nor the place for this activity. You have the right to take notes and get good grades on the remaining two tests and who am I to stand in your way? I’ve gleaned from this lecture about as much information as I would have if I had stayed in the HFAC. Because that’s what I need: more time in the HFAC.
So, thank you, guy sitting next to us. Thank you for reminding me that I have yet another thing I need to work on. I’ve found I spend much less time than most of my dear BYU friends dwelling on my own failings and imperfections. I know they’re there but I tend to believe that simply dwelling on the good things I should be doing is much more effective than thinking about the fact that I’m not doing them as well as I should be. I probably shouldn’t sacrifice biology, healthy sleeping habits, and future financial security because I feel confident in my future as a playwright. And it’s good to be reminded. Even if I resent you and your fashionable wedding ring and thoughtful questions about swamplands in Brazil. That resentment won’t last long. Let’s not lose our heads.
Take care, guy sitting next to us. Kiss your wife and study your copious notes. I won’t ask you to email them to me. I’ll ask someone else. It’s a big class.
Your classmate,
Matthew
PS: The professor said the following a few minutes ago and I thought it was poetic. (See, I’m listening!)
What have we done with the Garden of Eden?
We plowed it and planted corn.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Getting personal
I realize, of course, that no one wants to read a blog about how I wish I blogged more or explaining why I don’t. So, I won’t go into any of that. I’ll simply cite one excue I have and go from there.
I’m often surprised by the people who read this. Quite often I meet people who know more about me than I realize because they’ve read it on GreenePeace. Thus, I think I’m too careful about what I post. I omit names, gloss over details, or (most often) simply opt out of sharing anything that might be seen as too personal.
This may seem perfectly normal, but it puzzles me. The other night, a couple friends of mine and I were engaged in one of those late night conversations when secrets are divulged and everyone, for one reason or another, feels at ease sharing things hitherto unspoken. I often wish I had more secrets than I do, but I’ve found that I’m not one to shy away from sharing what little intrigue can be found in my sterile little world.
Why, then, am I so gun shy when it comes to blogging? In all honesty, it’s probably a petty excuse for not writing as often as I’d like to. And excuses are bad. That said, let’s proceed.
So, how am I these days? I think I’m doing alright. I really am immensely grateful for the blessings I have and realize how fortunate I am: I have a faith that renders the world in brighter colors than most people are able to see, I have family and friends whose love I can’t begin to doubt, I have more opportunities than I can handle to exercise and develop my talents, and I live in a comfort and a peace so constant that I find myself forgetting too often how well-off I am.
I’ve said before that I live my life in a perpetual state of frustration. This, however, doesn’t cheapen or discredit the wonderful things I’ve just listed. It means, though, that I am never satisfied. Hence the busy schedule, the perfectionism, the wild ambitions. This means, among other things, that I do not stop. Ever.
A friend of mine, upon hearing about the awesome opportunities afforded to me this semester, told me I’m a lucky guy. I know what he meant, but it was a little off-putting. I don’t like being described as “lucky.” “Blessed” is okay, but “lucky” implies the existence of some fortuitous lottery that I have somehow won. “Lucky,” in a way, discounts the Saturday nights spent at home writing, the sleep deprivation, and the countless hours a week spent in rehearsal. I am fortunate and I believe the stars aligned to a certain degree to afford me the favorable circumstances I needed to succeed as much as I have up to this point. That knowledge, however, only makes me work harder. From a romantic religious perspective, if Heavenly Father so stacked the deck for me to be able to succeed, I darn well better succeed. It means I have no time to spare, no time to waste. Whatever I’m doing now, however diligent or exemplary it may seem, is simply not enough. Nothing ever will be.
In the meantime, though, I’m happy. I like working hard, I like accomplishing things. I like the rare moments of “fun” mixed in, but I realize that if the rest of it weren’t enjoyable I’d have burned out long ago. This semester is going to be a busy one, but boy am I going to have a good time along the way.
I said last week, mostly in light of the onslaught of long to-do lists and frustration with the number of hours in the day, that I wasn’t going to date this semester. After all, my recent pursuits have fizzled out as a result of my busy schedule (and, in some cases, theirs) and, my friends assure me, a possible lack of interest. I find it difficult to fathom the possibility of finding enough time even for something casual. By the time it gets to Saturday night, my only “night off” of the week, I’m so tired that I don’t want to do anything but lie in bed, watch indulgent movies, and single-handedly eat a Little Caesar’s pizza.
Those who know me best, though, remind me that when I’m really interested in someone I manage to make the time necessary. I was in love once and it came at a time that probably couldn’t have been more inopportune. It was important enough, though, that I was willing to be creative and make necessary sacrifices (often of sleep) to ensure that there was sufficient time. Just thinking about that gives me confidence that I won’t become the zealous artist who is blinded to everything but his work. My work took a backseat once before and I’m sure it could happen again. It will just take a lot.
I like saying, “I was in love once.” It makes me feel worldly wise and reminds me of what might have been the happiest time in my life. (I can’t think of anything that tops it in recent memory, at least.) The whole experience left its mark on my life, quite a formidable mark at that. But that is the subject for another blog, one when I’m even less inhibited about sharing things.
On top of all that, I seem to have a tendency to gravitate toward really bad dating ideas. I’m smart enough to keep myself from indulging any of them, but still, it’s alarming.
Okay, that’s enough writing for now. Hopefully this will become more of a regular thing. But I won’t elaborate on that.
I’m often surprised by the people who read this. Quite often I meet people who know more about me than I realize because they’ve read it on GreenePeace. Thus, I think I’m too careful about what I post. I omit names, gloss over details, or (most often) simply opt out of sharing anything that might be seen as too personal.
This may seem perfectly normal, but it puzzles me. The other night, a couple friends of mine and I were engaged in one of those late night conversations when secrets are divulged and everyone, for one reason or another, feels at ease sharing things hitherto unspoken. I often wish I had more secrets than I do, but I’ve found that I’m not one to shy away from sharing what little intrigue can be found in my sterile little world.
Why, then, am I so gun shy when it comes to blogging? In all honesty, it’s probably a petty excuse for not writing as often as I’d like to. And excuses are bad. That said, let’s proceed.
So, how am I these days? I think I’m doing alright. I really am immensely grateful for the blessings I have and realize how fortunate I am: I have a faith that renders the world in brighter colors than most people are able to see, I have family and friends whose love I can’t begin to doubt, I have more opportunities than I can handle to exercise and develop my talents, and I live in a comfort and a peace so constant that I find myself forgetting too often how well-off I am.
I’ve said before that I live my life in a perpetual state of frustration. This, however, doesn’t cheapen or discredit the wonderful things I’ve just listed. It means, though, that I am never satisfied. Hence the busy schedule, the perfectionism, the wild ambitions. This means, among other things, that I do not stop. Ever.
A friend of mine, upon hearing about the awesome opportunities afforded to me this semester, told me I’m a lucky guy. I know what he meant, but it was a little off-putting. I don’t like being described as “lucky.” “Blessed” is okay, but “lucky” implies the existence of some fortuitous lottery that I have somehow won. “Lucky,” in a way, discounts the Saturday nights spent at home writing, the sleep deprivation, and the countless hours a week spent in rehearsal. I am fortunate and I believe the stars aligned to a certain degree to afford me the favorable circumstances I needed to succeed as much as I have up to this point. That knowledge, however, only makes me work harder. From a romantic religious perspective, if Heavenly Father so stacked the deck for me to be able to succeed, I darn well better succeed. It means I have no time to spare, no time to waste. Whatever I’m doing now, however diligent or exemplary it may seem, is simply not enough. Nothing ever will be.
In the meantime, though, I’m happy. I like working hard, I like accomplishing things. I like the rare moments of “fun” mixed in, but I realize that if the rest of it weren’t enjoyable I’d have burned out long ago. This semester is going to be a busy one, but boy am I going to have a good time along the way.
I said last week, mostly in light of the onslaught of long to-do lists and frustration with the number of hours in the day, that I wasn’t going to date this semester. After all, my recent pursuits have fizzled out as a result of my busy schedule (and, in some cases, theirs) and, my friends assure me, a possible lack of interest. I find it difficult to fathom the possibility of finding enough time even for something casual. By the time it gets to Saturday night, my only “night off” of the week, I’m so tired that I don’t want to do anything but lie in bed, watch indulgent movies, and single-handedly eat a Little Caesar’s pizza.
Those who know me best, though, remind me that when I’m really interested in someone I manage to make the time necessary. I was in love once and it came at a time that probably couldn’t have been more inopportune. It was important enough, though, that I was willing to be creative and make necessary sacrifices (often of sleep) to ensure that there was sufficient time. Just thinking about that gives me confidence that I won’t become the zealous artist who is blinded to everything but his work. My work took a backseat once before and I’m sure it could happen again. It will just take a lot.
I like saying, “I was in love once.” It makes me feel worldly wise and reminds me of what might have been the happiest time in my life. (I can’t think of anything that tops it in recent memory, at least.) The whole experience left its mark on my life, quite a formidable mark at that. But that is the subject for another blog, one when I’m even less inhibited about sharing things.
On top of all that, I seem to have a tendency to gravitate toward really bad dating ideas. I’m smart enough to keep myself from indulging any of them, but still, it’s alarming.
Okay, that’s enough writing for now. Hopefully this will become more of a regular thing. But I won’t elaborate on that.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Seven confessions
-There are three books I pretend I’ve read but never finished.
-I do not floss. Ever.
-I don’t think I’m as smart as my GPA indicates.
-I speed. Always.
-Sometimes I don’t like foreign films. In fact, sometimes I crave really stupid movies. I usually don’t give in, however.
-I judge people by their shoes more often than I like to admit.
-Sometimes I daydream about being a professional athlete. Really.
-I do not floss. Ever.
-I don’t think I’m as smart as my GPA indicates.
-I speed. Always.
-Sometimes I don’t like foreign films. In fact, sometimes I crave really stupid movies. I usually don’t give in, however.
-I judge people by their shoes more often than I like to admit.
-Sometimes I daydream about being a professional athlete. Really.
Psych out
I’m sitting in my psychology class working on a “group presentation” with a couple of guys I’m sitting next to. One of them is trying to explain why he, in spite of his white skin, deserves a multicultural scholarship because he’s a seventh generation Californian and only three generations ago California had barely become a part of the United States. I stopped myself from trying to correct any one of the absurdities in his logic, realizing that I’ve done nothing but argue with what he has said since our discussion began. He has, in fact, been wrong about nearly everything he’s said in the last ten minutes but he’s talking in the “I’m smart” voice, which has fooled our third group member into believing that if white people have higher SAT scores than minorities, then the palest white people must be the smartest. Am I in college? I wonder sometimes.
Okay, I’m being too harsh. He’s mentioned his (pale) wife several times and I have to bear in mind that this guy got a woman to fall in love with him. There has got to be more than meets the eye. I’m sure if I gave him a chance I could come to understand him better. I like to think I’m getting better at looking past what is initially off-putting and assuming there is something I can’t see. The old Matthew would roll his eyes and make a mental note not to sit in this row again. (Isn’t it weird how people tend to always sit in the same spots in a classroom?) However, the new Matthew is not so dismissive. I hope.
I think the guy sitting next to me (the neutral member of the group) has been reading this over my shoulder. I should be nicer.
Okay, I’m being too harsh. He’s mentioned his (pale) wife several times and I have to bear in mind that this guy got a woman to fall in love with him. There has got to be more than meets the eye. I’m sure if I gave him a chance I could come to understand him better. I like to think I’m getting better at looking past what is initially off-putting and assuming there is something I can’t see. The old Matthew would roll his eyes and make a mental note not to sit in this row again. (Isn’t it weird how people tend to always sit in the same spots in a classroom?) However, the new Matthew is not so dismissive. I hope.
I think the guy sitting next to me (the neutral member of the group) has been reading this over my shoulder. I should be nicer.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A week in the life...
I had the idea that maybe if I made blogging a weekly activity I would do it more faithfully. So, here's a quick summary of this last one.
The second week of classes went just swimmingly. (We should use that word more.) I actually have two tests during the coming week, but we won't think about that now. At the moment, I'm happy my English class is teaching me to be a grown-up and to read boring things. (Look, I'm sorry, Benjamin Franklin, but your autobiography is just too long.) I'm discovering some really interesting pieces of literature though. Well, not discovering since I suppose their inclusion in an anthology and on my syllabus makes their content anything but uncharted territory. Perhaps I'm just trying to make up for the years I've spent as a student avoiding reading substantial non-theatrical material. That must be it.
My psychology class is really interesting and I forgot how easy 100-level classes are. (Don't hate me, my young friends.) That means it's fun and interesting without being especially challenging. Which, sometimes, is quite nice.
What else, what else...I'm enjoying work. It seems that every time I work I discover more things that I don't know and I look forward to the day when I feel more comfortable with it all. It's something I really want to be good at so I'm willing to work for it. This job has me exploring career options that I'd never even considered before. Jake suggested the other day that he, Addi, and I each get a foster child to take care of and raise them in our student apartment. It was a funny proposition. (No, we're not going to do that.)
Other than that, I suppose there isn't much going on. I had a nice Independence Day yesterday. I went hiking with some friends and then another friend and I crashed a family barbecue in American Fork. It was fun being with a family, even if it wasn't mine. I tried to figure out why I don't see myself as particularly patriotic and I may have reached a conclusion. America as an entity doesn't mean a great deal to me. I love so many things about this country but I think I'd be just as happy living somewhere else where the same basic civil liberties were available to me. I appreciate and acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who made this country what it is but I see those stories more as chronicles of the strength of the human spirit than anything else. I admire William Wilberforce as much as George Washington but neither one for their citizenship in any particular nation. If that admiration makes me a patriot, great! If not, however, I might just have to accept that.
Anyway, that was weird. I finished off the week with a nice uplifting Sunday. Church was great today and this evening we had a little gathering at my place where cinnamon rolls were consumed and "Werewolves" was played. It was intense. I can't sleep, even though I have to be up in six hours. Yes, six. It's going to be a long week. I guess I'll go try again.
The second week of classes went just swimmingly. (We should use that word more.) I actually have two tests during the coming week, but we won't think about that now. At the moment, I'm happy my English class is teaching me to be a grown-up and to read boring things. (Look, I'm sorry, Benjamin Franklin, but your autobiography is just too long.) I'm discovering some really interesting pieces of literature though. Well, not discovering since I suppose their inclusion in an anthology and on my syllabus makes their content anything but uncharted territory. Perhaps I'm just trying to make up for the years I've spent as a student avoiding reading substantial non-theatrical material. That must be it.
My psychology class is really interesting and I forgot how easy 100-level classes are. (Don't hate me, my young friends.) That means it's fun and interesting without being especially challenging. Which, sometimes, is quite nice.
What else, what else...I'm enjoying work. It seems that every time I work I discover more things that I don't know and I look forward to the day when I feel more comfortable with it all. It's something I really want to be good at so I'm willing to work for it. This job has me exploring career options that I'd never even considered before. Jake suggested the other day that he, Addi, and I each get a foster child to take care of and raise them in our student apartment. It was a funny proposition. (No, we're not going to do that.)
Other than that, I suppose there isn't much going on. I had a nice Independence Day yesterday. I went hiking with some friends and then another friend and I crashed a family barbecue in American Fork. It was fun being with a family, even if it wasn't mine. I tried to figure out why I don't see myself as particularly patriotic and I may have reached a conclusion. America as an entity doesn't mean a great deal to me. I love so many things about this country but I think I'd be just as happy living somewhere else where the same basic civil liberties were available to me. I appreciate and acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who made this country what it is but I see those stories more as chronicles of the strength of the human spirit than anything else. I admire William Wilberforce as much as George Washington but neither one for their citizenship in any particular nation. If that admiration makes me a patriot, great! If not, however, I might just have to accept that.
Anyway, that was weird. I finished off the week with a nice uplifting Sunday. Church was great today and this evening we had a little gathering at my place where cinnamon rolls were consumed and "Werewolves" was played. It was intense. I can't sleep, even though I have to be up in six hours. Yes, six. It's going to be a long week. I guess I'll go try again.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Shameless plug. For myself.
So, I have a new blog. It's devoted to playwriting (as is a big portion of my life, if you didn't know) so check it out!
http://mgplays.wordpress.com
http://mgplays.wordpress.com
Friday, June 19, 2009
This is all that I ask for:
(A record store. Matthew is browsing the used DVD’s. He looks frustrated. Girl approaches.)
GIRL
That’s a good one.
MATTHEW
Huh?
GIRL
“Annie Hall.” Isn’t that...
(Gets a closer look at the DVD case.)
Oh, “Annie.”
(Suppresses a laugh.)
MATTHEW
Yeah, I was just...
GIRL
No, no. By all means...
MATTHEW
Really, I was just looking to see when it was made.
GIRL
Uh huh.
MATTHEW
I wasn’t going to buy it.
GIRL
Because you already have it.
MATTHEW
Oh, come on.
GIRL
Or, let me guess, present for your girlfriend?
MATTHEW
If I had one of those, she wouldn’t be a fan of movies like this.
GIRL
Uh huh.
MATTHEW
You totally don’t believe me.
GIRL
No, I do.
(He gives her a look.)
Really, I do.
MATTHEW
(Handing her a DVD.)
Here’s “Annie Hall.” I mean, if you were looking for it.
GIRL
Oh, I wasn’t. I just...
MATTHEW
...couldn’t help noticing me noticing “Annie Hall?”
GIRL
Sorry, was that weird of me?
MATTHEW
No.
GIRL
Yeah, it was. And now you’re all embarrassed and denying your love of musicals...
MATTHEW
(Putting “Annie” back on the shelf.)
You’re not gonna let that go, are you?
GIRL
Really, I don’t usually...approach people like that.
MATTHEW
Well, for the record I love “Annie Hall.”
GIRL
Me too, I watched it when I was younger but I didn’t really get it. You know?
MATTHEW
Yeah, I was that way with “Ghostbusters.”
GIRL
You know I’ve never actually seen that whole movie?
MATTHEW
What?!
GIRL
I know!
MATTHEW
No way!
GIRL
It’s one of those that no one watches now because they’ve all seen it, you know? I think it’s on my Netflix queue.
MATTHEW
Yeah, I use that line. It’s alright, you know? You don’t have to watch it, I guess.
GIRL
Well, thank you.
MATTHEW
But you’re missing out. I actually just watched “Annie Hall” this afternoon.
GIRL
For the first time?
MATTHEW
Yep. I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately, got surgery last week.
GIRL
Oh really? What kind of surgery?
MATTHEW
(Beat.)
How about we change the subject?
(They laugh.)
Sorry, I don’t know why I brought that up.
GIRL
I don’t know why I asked. I don’t really need to know.
MATTHEW
You don’t want to know.
(Beat.)
So...
GIRL
(Looking at “Annie Hall.”)
You know what I love about this movie? That montage at the end, with Diane Keaton singing and, you know, all the cheesy moments from the movie.
MATTHEW
Yeah.
GIRL
I don’t know. And you remember all of that started with a game of tennis, and she gave him a ride, and it all went from there. It’s just interesting, you know, thinking you can find someone to...give yourself to. And it’ll be something so simple. I mean, in the movie...
(Beat.)
It’s a good one.
MATTHEW
Yeah...What’s your name?
GIRL
Jordan. And...
MATTHEW
Matthew.
JORDAN
Nice to meet you. Uh, yeah. I recommend that one.
(Starts to move off.)
MATTHEW
Anything else?
JORDAN
(Turning back.)
What?
MATTHEW
I mean, other recommendations?
(She gives him a perplexed look.)
Sorry, just...
JORDAN
Well, I looked through most of these used ones. Not much here.
MATTHEW
Yeah the buy two get one free thing presumes we can find three we want to take home.
JORDAN
Exactly.
MATTHEW
I actually did a couple times.
JORDAN
Me too.
MATTHEW
We must have snatched up anything worth buying.
JORDAN
Right.
MATTHEW
I mean...
(Looking at the DVD’s.)
“The Love Guru.” Really?
JORDAN
And the, what, seventh “American Pie” movie? How many of these do we need?
MATTHEW
It’s for a generation raised on “Land Before Time.”
JORDAN
(Laughs.)
Right.
MATTHEW
Yeah, this was a bust, I think.
JORDAN
Better luck next time.
MATTHEW
Hey, uh...This is kind of...But, what are you doing tonight?
JORDAN
It’s 9:45.
(Beat.)
Nothing so far.
MATTHEW
I mean, I could get your number and call you up, ask you out, and we could have a great time. But, what about now?
JORDAN
I’m intrigued. You didn’t have any plans tonight?
MATTHEW
Well, I was going to eat a pizza by myself, watch “Citizen Kane,” and probably write a blog about our society’s abysmal taste in movies.
JORDAN
Sounds like fun.
MATTHEW
Actually, I’d probably think about writing a blog but I’d just end up falling asleep watching “How I Met Your Mother” episodes from a sketchy Japanese website.
JORDAN
Side Reel?
MATTHEW
Wow, how embarrassing that you know that.
JORDAN
So, what did you have in mind?
MATTHEW
Uh, I...My plan really only got as far as “Wanna go out.” Do you like food?
JORDAN
I love it. I had dinner a couple hours ago, but...
MATTHEW
How about we split an app sampler at Applebees?
JORDAN
Ooh, that sounds great. Do you like the mozzarella sticks?
MATTHEW
They’re all yours.
JORDAN
Hmmm, maybe we could sub more buffalo wings.
MATTHEW
That’s what I like to hear.
JORDAN
Then what?
MATTHEW
Ummm...
JORDAN
See where the evening takes us?
MATTHEW
(Laughs.)
Wow, I’ve never tried that.
JORDAN
Neither have I.
MATTHEW
Sounds great.
(They walk together out of the store.)
Funny story, I was there with my buddy the other day and he thought our waitress was cute, but he was afraid she saw him checking out this other waitress...
(They exit.)
GIRL
That’s a good one.
MATTHEW
Huh?
GIRL
“Annie Hall.” Isn’t that...
(Gets a closer look at the DVD case.)
Oh, “Annie.”
(Suppresses a laugh.)
MATTHEW
Yeah, I was just...
GIRL
No, no. By all means...
MATTHEW
Really, I was just looking to see when it was made.
GIRL
Uh huh.
MATTHEW
I wasn’t going to buy it.
GIRL
Because you already have it.
MATTHEW
Oh, come on.
GIRL
Or, let me guess, present for your girlfriend?
MATTHEW
If I had one of those, she wouldn’t be a fan of movies like this.
GIRL
Uh huh.
MATTHEW
You totally don’t believe me.
GIRL
No, I do.
(He gives her a look.)
Really, I do.
MATTHEW
(Handing her a DVD.)
Here’s “Annie Hall.” I mean, if you were looking for it.
GIRL
Oh, I wasn’t. I just...
MATTHEW
...couldn’t help noticing me noticing “Annie Hall?”
GIRL
Sorry, was that weird of me?
MATTHEW
No.
GIRL
Yeah, it was. And now you’re all embarrassed and denying your love of musicals...
MATTHEW
(Putting “Annie” back on the shelf.)
You’re not gonna let that go, are you?
GIRL
Really, I don’t usually...approach people like that.
MATTHEW
Well, for the record I love “Annie Hall.”
GIRL
Me too, I watched it when I was younger but I didn’t really get it. You know?
MATTHEW
Yeah, I was that way with “Ghostbusters.”
GIRL
You know I’ve never actually seen that whole movie?
MATTHEW
What?!
GIRL
I know!
MATTHEW
No way!
GIRL
It’s one of those that no one watches now because they’ve all seen it, you know? I think it’s on my Netflix queue.
MATTHEW
Yeah, I use that line. It’s alright, you know? You don’t have to watch it, I guess.
GIRL
Well, thank you.
MATTHEW
But you’re missing out. I actually just watched “Annie Hall” this afternoon.
GIRL
For the first time?
MATTHEW
Yep. I’ve been watching a lot of movies lately, got surgery last week.
GIRL
Oh really? What kind of surgery?
MATTHEW
(Beat.)
How about we change the subject?
(They laugh.)
Sorry, I don’t know why I brought that up.
GIRL
I don’t know why I asked. I don’t really need to know.
MATTHEW
You don’t want to know.
(Beat.)
So...
GIRL
(Looking at “Annie Hall.”)
You know what I love about this movie? That montage at the end, with Diane Keaton singing and, you know, all the cheesy moments from the movie.
MATTHEW
Yeah.
GIRL
I don’t know. And you remember all of that started with a game of tennis, and she gave him a ride, and it all went from there. It’s just interesting, you know, thinking you can find someone to...give yourself to. And it’ll be something so simple. I mean, in the movie...
(Beat.)
It’s a good one.
MATTHEW
Yeah...What’s your name?
GIRL
Jordan. And...
MATTHEW
Matthew.
JORDAN
Nice to meet you. Uh, yeah. I recommend that one.
(Starts to move off.)
MATTHEW
Anything else?
JORDAN
(Turning back.)
What?
MATTHEW
I mean, other recommendations?
(She gives him a perplexed look.)
Sorry, just...
JORDAN
Well, I looked through most of these used ones. Not much here.
MATTHEW
Yeah the buy two get one free thing presumes we can find three we want to take home.
JORDAN
Exactly.
MATTHEW
I actually did a couple times.
JORDAN
Me too.
MATTHEW
We must have snatched up anything worth buying.
JORDAN
Right.
MATTHEW
I mean...
(Looking at the DVD’s.)
“The Love Guru.” Really?
JORDAN
And the, what, seventh “American Pie” movie? How many of these do we need?
MATTHEW
It’s for a generation raised on “Land Before Time.”
JORDAN
(Laughs.)
Right.
MATTHEW
Yeah, this was a bust, I think.
JORDAN
Better luck next time.
MATTHEW
Hey, uh...This is kind of...But, what are you doing tonight?
JORDAN
It’s 9:45.
(Beat.)
Nothing so far.
MATTHEW
I mean, I could get your number and call you up, ask you out, and we could have a great time. But, what about now?
JORDAN
I’m intrigued. You didn’t have any plans tonight?
MATTHEW
Well, I was going to eat a pizza by myself, watch “Citizen Kane,” and probably write a blog about our society’s abysmal taste in movies.
JORDAN
Sounds like fun.
MATTHEW
Actually, I’d probably think about writing a blog but I’d just end up falling asleep watching “How I Met Your Mother” episodes from a sketchy Japanese website.
JORDAN
Side Reel?
MATTHEW
Wow, how embarrassing that you know that.
JORDAN
So, what did you have in mind?
MATTHEW
Uh, I...My plan really only got as far as “Wanna go out.” Do you like food?
JORDAN
I love it. I had dinner a couple hours ago, but...
MATTHEW
How about we split an app sampler at Applebees?
JORDAN
Ooh, that sounds great. Do you like the mozzarella sticks?
MATTHEW
They’re all yours.
JORDAN
Hmmm, maybe we could sub more buffalo wings.
MATTHEW
That’s what I like to hear.
JORDAN
Then what?
MATTHEW
Ummm...
JORDAN
See where the evening takes us?
MATTHEW
(Laughs.)
Wow, I’ve never tried that.
JORDAN
Neither have I.
MATTHEW
Sounds great.
(They walk together out of the store.)
Funny story, I was there with my buddy the other day and he thought our waitress was cute, but he was afraid she saw him checking out this other waitress...
(They exit.)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Just the perfect blend-ship
This will be one of those sappy blog entries that makes people wonder who I am and what I’ve done with Matthew Greene. I hung out one night last week with a group of friends I haven’t seen for a while. It was a good time and I was happy to have the chance to catch up and see how life has been treating them. (You know, marriage, babies, missions, the basics.) I was glad to see they have kept in touch and a little disappointed that I haven’t stayed as close as they have. But most of all it made me reflect.
You see, this group of friends came into my life right when I needed them. And I do not want to sound like some overstuffed New Era testimonial in saying this, but I realized what a blessing their friendship was. I was going through what was indisputably the most difficult period in my life and I was determined not to let anyone know. I had moved into a new student ward and I was wary of diving into any social scene. A combination of health issues, personal struggles, and big disappointments gave me enough misguided motivation to keep to myself. My acquaintance with these few good souls (wow, what am I, one hundred years old?) changed that.
The really remarkable thing is that, barring espionage or supreme powers of perception, they had no way of knowing really what was going on with me. Of course, as we got to be closer friends I told them some of the gory details (and wouldn’t you like to know what they were) but for the most part they had no idea. I was just a guy in their ward who struck up a conversation at a “Linger Longer” and got roped into a “Dinner Group.” (I was not yet dead set against such singles ward festivities.) They weren’t trying to “reach out” or “fellowship” someone they thought was in trouble. At least I don’t think they were. (Not any more than people in general think I’m “in trouble,” that is…) The fact is, they were a group of fun people who liked to have a good time and shared their general love of living with everyone around them.
I didn’t realize it at the time and perhaps I didn’t think about it as fully as I should until the other night, but these friends, simply by being themselves and being able to show kindness and love to each other, lifted me out of the proverbial rut and helped me to have a better time than I would have thought possible that fateful Spring term, oh so long ago. They weren’t trying to be anything more than they were: good people and good friends. But that was exactly what I needed.
I got me thinking (because, really, what doesn’t?) about my own interactions with people. Often I find myself wanting to help people I think are having a difficult time. I’ll try to do exactly what these people did not: reach out, extend sympathy, offer advice, try to understand what they’re going through, etc. Perhaps we all just need to simply be cool and have a good time. I guess what I’ve realized is that when we’re doing that we’re giving more to those around us than we realize. And the nights when I think my time is better spent sitting at home and working on my latest project could perhaps be better spent just having fun with friends. Apparently, it makes a big difference
So, other then a public cyberspace “thank you” to any of those few and pround who know who they are, I guess this blog should serve to reaffirm my commitment to be a good friend to those few friends I have and the those I should be making. It’s also a reminder to all you tuning in at home that maybe we in being ourselves and loving each other are working miracles in the lives of those around us every day. And chances are, we have no idea.
You see, this group of friends came into my life right when I needed them. And I do not want to sound like some overstuffed New Era testimonial in saying this, but I realized what a blessing their friendship was. I was going through what was indisputably the most difficult period in my life and I was determined not to let anyone know. I had moved into a new student ward and I was wary of diving into any social scene. A combination of health issues, personal struggles, and big disappointments gave me enough misguided motivation to keep to myself. My acquaintance with these few good souls (wow, what am I, one hundred years old?) changed that.
The really remarkable thing is that, barring espionage or supreme powers of perception, they had no way of knowing really what was going on with me. Of course, as we got to be closer friends I told them some of the gory details (and wouldn’t you like to know what they were) but for the most part they had no idea. I was just a guy in their ward who struck up a conversation at a “Linger Longer” and got roped into a “Dinner Group.” (I was not yet dead set against such singles ward festivities.) They weren’t trying to “reach out” or “fellowship” someone they thought was in trouble. At least I don’t think they were. (Not any more than people in general think I’m “in trouble,” that is…) The fact is, they were a group of fun people who liked to have a good time and shared their general love of living with everyone around them.
I didn’t realize it at the time and perhaps I didn’t think about it as fully as I should until the other night, but these friends, simply by being themselves and being able to show kindness and love to each other, lifted me out of the proverbial rut and helped me to have a better time than I would have thought possible that fateful Spring term, oh so long ago. They weren’t trying to be anything more than they were: good people and good friends. But that was exactly what I needed.
I got me thinking (because, really, what doesn’t?) about my own interactions with people. Often I find myself wanting to help people I think are having a difficult time. I’ll try to do exactly what these people did not: reach out, extend sympathy, offer advice, try to understand what they’re going through, etc. Perhaps we all just need to simply be cool and have a good time. I guess what I’ve realized is that when we’re doing that we’re giving more to those around us than we realize. And the nights when I think my time is better spent sitting at home and working on my latest project could perhaps be better spent just having fun with friends. Apparently, it makes a big difference
So, other then a public cyberspace “thank you” to any of those few and pround who know who they are, I guess this blog should serve to reaffirm my commitment to be a good friend to those few friends I have and the those I should be making. It’s also a reminder to all you tuning in at home that maybe we in being ourselves and loving each other are working miracles in the lives of those around us every day. And chances are, we have no idea.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Graveyard Shift
I’ve found I’d rather watch my second choice TV show than endure the commercials they show on Lifetime. This should, perhaps, make me wonder why I want to watch Lifetime programming in the first place.
I’m working a graveyard shift tonight and I’m employing everything in my disposal to stay awake. My friend told me to write a blog entry of my late night thoughts. The night is still young but I figured I’d get started now.
I really need to pace myself. I think among the many lessons I’ll learn tonight will be the importance of saving either the box of cookies, the bag of chips, or the package of candy for a little later than midnight. Tasty as the Zours are they would probably be of more assistance when my eyelids inevitably start drooping to the point of slapping myself to stay awake.
1:41 AM: I just finished watching “Slumdog Millionaire,” a movie that I would recommend without hesitation to just about anyone. I love that there’s still a place somewhere for the unabashed optimism we see in Bollywood films. “Slumdog” deals with some tough stuff but there is a sense of destiny, of the universe conspiring for the good of our hero. And there’s just something cathartic about rooting for the underdog and watching him win a fortune AND end up with the girl of his dreams. Sometimes, things DO work out. We lose sight of that in the grit and cynicism that we often associate with real artistic merit. Maybe this fascination of mine has more to do with the fact that I’ve lost a good deal of my own cynicism recently than anything else. (This is thanks, fittingly, to the girl with whom I first watched this particular movie.) And I like to think that losing some of my “edge” doesn’t have to negatively affect my writing. Maybe happy endings can be beautiful too. There, I said it.
4:02 AM: Time is moving by astoundingly quickly. I’m supposed to check the kids every fifteen minutes to make sure they’re not sneaking out or up to anything other than, well, sleeping. I had a bit of a heart attack a couple hours ago when one girl decided to move from her bed to the empty bunk above her. I saw an empty bed and my career as a group home tracker flashed before my eyes. However, I found her and all is well. That was, up until now, the most interesting part of the night. And I hope it stays that way. “Ed Wood” was a fun show. I’ll probably watch one more movie to pass the time. What a great job!
6:13 AM: So, “City of Angels?” Not such a good movie. And it came so highly recommended by everyone who tried to talk me out of hating Nicholas Cage. I didn’t mind it much but I was severely underwhelmed by the whole experience. I am currently caught up in a “very special” episode of “Saved By The Bell.” Zach and Slater were suspected of smoking pot because, I mean, what could be more likely than that? Then they went around a circle and told stories about their friends who had gotten involved with various types of hard drugs culminating in Jesse’s (the one who isn’t Tiffany Amber Theissen) confession about her crippling addiction to caffeine pills. Why I am watching “Saved By The Bell” is a mystery to me. I must be tired. Especially since I’m blogging about it. Come to think of it, caffeine pills might be a good investment for future graveyard shifts. I’m just kidding, of course. The temptation to sleep wasn’t even much of a reality tonight. Maybe I’ve found my calling at last: staying up all night.
I’m working a graveyard shift tonight and I’m employing everything in my disposal to stay awake. My friend told me to write a blog entry of my late night thoughts. The night is still young but I figured I’d get started now.
I really need to pace myself. I think among the many lessons I’ll learn tonight will be the importance of saving either the box of cookies, the bag of chips, or the package of candy for a little later than midnight. Tasty as the Zours are they would probably be of more assistance when my eyelids inevitably start drooping to the point of slapping myself to stay awake.
1:41 AM: I just finished watching “Slumdog Millionaire,” a movie that I would recommend without hesitation to just about anyone. I love that there’s still a place somewhere for the unabashed optimism we see in Bollywood films. “Slumdog” deals with some tough stuff but there is a sense of destiny, of the universe conspiring for the good of our hero. And there’s just something cathartic about rooting for the underdog and watching him win a fortune AND end up with the girl of his dreams. Sometimes, things DO work out. We lose sight of that in the grit and cynicism that we often associate with real artistic merit. Maybe this fascination of mine has more to do with the fact that I’ve lost a good deal of my own cynicism recently than anything else. (This is thanks, fittingly, to the girl with whom I first watched this particular movie.) And I like to think that losing some of my “edge” doesn’t have to negatively affect my writing. Maybe happy endings can be beautiful too. There, I said it.
4:02 AM: Time is moving by astoundingly quickly. I’m supposed to check the kids every fifteen minutes to make sure they’re not sneaking out or up to anything other than, well, sleeping. I had a bit of a heart attack a couple hours ago when one girl decided to move from her bed to the empty bunk above her. I saw an empty bed and my career as a group home tracker flashed before my eyes. However, I found her and all is well. That was, up until now, the most interesting part of the night. And I hope it stays that way. “Ed Wood” was a fun show. I’ll probably watch one more movie to pass the time. What a great job!
6:13 AM: So, “City of Angels?” Not such a good movie. And it came so highly recommended by everyone who tried to talk me out of hating Nicholas Cage. I didn’t mind it much but I was severely underwhelmed by the whole experience. I am currently caught up in a “very special” episode of “Saved By The Bell.” Zach and Slater were suspected of smoking pot because, I mean, what could be more likely than that? Then they went around a circle and told stories about their friends who had gotten involved with various types of hard drugs culminating in Jesse’s (the one who isn’t Tiffany Amber Theissen) confession about her crippling addiction to caffeine pills. Why I am watching “Saved By The Bell” is a mystery to me. I must be tired. Especially since I’m blogging about it. Come to think of it, caffeine pills might be a good investment for future graveyard shifts. I’m just kidding, of course. The temptation to sleep wasn’t even much of a reality tonight. Maybe I’ve found my calling at last: staying up all night.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Life is good...
Okay, now it’s time for the game. This one is called “What class is Matthew not paying attention to today?” And the answer is…World Religions. But, in my defense, I am paying a sort of half attention.
So, what is going on with me right now? I’ve noticed that this blog has become a sort of sounding board for my frustrations and confusions. At this point in my life, however, I am not feeling particularly frustrated or confused. I am pretty uniformly happy; see me for details.
ANYWAY, I think in an attempt to make up for the negativity that has pervaded my posts here, I’m going to try and concentrate on the positive for a few moments. What follows is a list of some reasons I have to be happy right now:
-New music. (That sounds like a “Ragtime” reference.) My latest iTunes purchase is “Poses” by Rufus Wainwright and I am FURIOUS I lived 22 years without it. (Never mind the fact that it came out last year.)
-Food discoveries. I HAVE to give a “shout out” to the Penny Royal Café, which is probably the coolest place in Provo and whose sandwiches are revolutionizing my life.
-“Berenice.” I am pretty proud of this show and I’m glad people are enjoying it. But to add to the happiness, it’s almost over! It’s bittersweet, but the enormous relief that will come on Saturday night almost eradicates the bitter.
-The weather. I forgot how much I love the sun.
-The exciting feeling you get as the semester winds down. A little bit of stress, a little bit of relief, and everything in between seems heightened in a way. Really.
-Friendly wagers with my roommates. We bet pizzas and Frosties back and forth. I am not ashamed of this, maybe because I always win.
-People who make you smile whenever you see them. If you don’t have one of them, I suggest you find one.
WHAT? So much happiness. This must be something of a shock for everyone who knows me. I blame the sunshine. But really, life is good. Have you noticed? If you’re not feeling so hot, maybe my list can give you some ideas: listen to Rufus Wainwright, eat at the Penny Royal, come see “Berenice” (shameless plug).
And I’ll have you know I took two good pages of notes while I wrote this. I’m beginning to think I learn best when I’m mid-blog. I guess we’ll see at the end of the semester…
So, what is going on with me right now? I’ve noticed that this blog has become a sort of sounding board for my frustrations and confusions. At this point in my life, however, I am not feeling particularly frustrated or confused. I am pretty uniformly happy; see me for details.
ANYWAY, I think in an attempt to make up for the negativity that has pervaded my posts here, I’m going to try and concentrate on the positive for a few moments. What follows is a list of some reasons I have to be happy right now:
-New music. (That sounds like a “Ragtime” reference.) My latest iTunes purchase is “Poses” by Rufus Wainwright and I am FURIOUS I lived 22 years without it. (Never mind the fact that it came out last year.)
-Food discoveries. I HAVE to give a “shout out” to the Penny Royal Café, which is probably the coolest place in Provo and whose sandwiches are revolutionizing my life.
-“Berenice.” I am pretty proud of this show and I’m glad people are enjoying it. But to add to the happiness, it’s almost over! It’s bittersweet, but the enormous relief that will come on Saturday night almost eradicates the bitter.
-The weather. I forgot how much I love the sun.
-The exciting feeling you get as the semester winds down. A little bit of stress, a little bit of relief, and everything in between seems heightened in a way. Really.
-Friendly wagers with my roommates. We bet pizzas and Frosties back and forth. I am not ashamed of this, maybe because I always win.
-People who make you smile whenever you see them. If you don’t have one of them, I suggest you find one.
WHAT? So much happiness. This must be something of a shock for everyone who knows me. I blame the sunshine. But really, life is good. Have you noticed? If you’re not feeling so hot, maybe my list can give you some ideas: listen to Rufus Wainwright, eat at the Penny Royal, come see “Berenice” (shameless plug).
And I’ll have you know I took two good pages of notes while I wrote this. I’m beginning to think I learn best when I’m mid-blog. I guess we’ll see at the end of the semester…
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