I'm still just confused. I'm obviously not getting something. Maybe I'm too stupid. Maybe I"m too inexperienced. But I don't hate my job. I don't wake up dreading performing. I don't want to "opt out" of numbers. I'm not THRILLED that in two weeks I'll not have to perform for a month. I don't count down the minutes during a show and when I'm finished breathe a sigh of relief because I'm done and can now go decorate my apartment. I have very little desire in getting anyone kicked out of equity or getting a stage manager or two fired. I don't count the seconds until I can get out of my costume and head home. I'm not super psyched we have no more understudy rehearsals. (Ummm - what happens if we have to go on and haven't rehearsed for two months? Even the RSC and Bway rehearses understudies at least once a week!!!!!!!!!! Usually twice!!!)And I really don't care THAT much about pita chips. ARGHHHHHHH! I'm going to go CRAZY!!!!!! CRAAAAAAZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How on earth have these people managed to make a great job into a living hell? I'm SO confused. And why would you WANT to do that? Why! When the universe gives you a gift like a performing job - why not be happy?
But - that's exactly it - why not be happy - so that's the last I'm going to say about that. Instead - I'm going to talk about all the COOL thingsI did today.
I listened to Slate's policial gabfest - which was MOST amusing this week - as we've have a rather hysterical group GOP hopefuls in the media. Perry and Cain are both every comedian's dream - but they make even a regular newscast seem like SNL! I also listened to the "culture" gabfest - which analyzed how hollywood seems to make us think there is something inherently wrong with us if we don't get our happy endings. I think this is true - but in my hippie dippie mode that I'm in right now - I'm also thinking happy endings are all in the eye of the beholder. I know some people who the 99% would say should be OVER THE MOON with happiness - but they aren't because they don't have a baby - or haven't won an oscar - or don't have a boyfriend - or have only starred in 5 Broadway shows instead of 6 - or because the critics panned their latest work - never mind their 3 Tony awards and numerous past accomplishments. And some people - who are in a wheelchair and find joy in every moment in life - and say things such as, "I'm glad I broke my neck. If I never broke my neck I wouldn't have met such amazing people, gotten into directing, or discovered stand-up comedy." So - girl on her fifth Broadway show and featured role on an HBO show SHOULD by all reasonable accounts have the happy ending - but the happier one is the girl in a wheelchair. Ultimately - we are responsible for our own experiences - and happy endings are in the eye of the beholder. Granted - I PRAY I'll never go through something as traumatic as a life altering injury - and would MUCH rather be the girl on her fifth Broadway show. I think ultimately it comes down to how Michelle Kwan ended her autobiography. We all have good and bad in lives, and if we're lucky, we'll have more good than bad. It we're REALLY lucky, we'll know it. (Therefore - cultural gabfest people - I think we all ultimately write and put our own spin on our own fairytales.) I'm going to do my darndest to make mine a happy one.
I also listened to Capitol Steps - a musical political satire show - on the bus up to Tarrytown. It only comes out on holidays - so I was a bit late listening to the Halloween episode. No matter - it still literally made me laugh out loud. Esp. the BOOK OF MORMON/GOP candidates parody.
I cleaned my apt. Which was MUCH needed.
I worked on my piano chord inversions - which scare me.
I worked on the new opera aria I'm learning - Ah, non credea Mirarti. It's in Italian - which makes it scary.
I took (much much much needed) pilates and had a much needed catch-up session with Cara over some delicious soup!
I found my long lost friend Sara's blog - which is actually rather amazing! She made homemmade poptarts and documented it! I may have to try this myself. Her commentary on the experience was hysterical. She also posted a rather long entry about whales - which I found extremely funny, witty, and educational! I'm going to cut and paste a bit - but before I go - I'd just like to point out - one of these whales is estimated to have been 211 at the time of its death - which meant it saw Thomas Jefferson AND Bill Clinton as President - that is - if it ever ventured to DC - which I doubt it did. Still - it's very crazy to think about!
Sara’s entirely bias Bowhead Profile:
- These giants live in the arctic, those scratches are from crashing into ice sheets to make blowholes.
- Bowheads live alone under the frozen expanse, solitary and peaceful for most of their adult life.
- They are notoriously skittish. A wave-slap against a boat’s prow a quarter-mile away is enough to send them trundling to the deep.
- Recent research indicates they may be some of the oldest creatures on the planet. Estimates surmise they are over 200 years old.
Possibly the oldest creatures – how cool! How mysterious! It explains rather a lot of their anti-human behaviour in my mind too.
After all, it wasn’t that long ago whaling was an exotic imperialist hobby and dastardly big business (though some would say it still is when there are stories like this in the world).
Leaving the politics to one side however, I found an article about a bowhead carcass found in 2001 which had old, ivory harpoon heads lodged in its skin.
[Totally pointless footnote, how do you post 48 frozen whale eyeballs? How big of a box is that and what do you put on the customs declaration? These are the things that keep me up at night.]
If the harpoon heads and eyeball dissection prove they are that old, it’s hard to imagine what all they have witnessed in 200 years. Reminds me of Darwin’s tortoise.
Now, in Saraland, a little imaginative history says a sow of 200 could easily have witnessed the harpooning of family members in Victorian expeditions. Quite likely she would have been chased herself at least a few times in the remaining centuries. Their trepidation regarding ships and humans in that context is more than understandable. I’d be pretty freakin’ skittish too.
Yes, it’s anthropomorphizing a bit, but I’m not totally crazy. I may love me some whales and invent little histories, but it’s not like I’ve named them [or have an uncontrollable urge to put a tiny sweater on them. ahem. crazy pet people. *shudder*]
It also feels like the seeds of a Disney movie: some Bambi-esque tale of survival and distrust.
Of course in modern-day ultra-PC Disney world, the orphaned baby bowhead would make friends with some Inuit child.
They’d probably have a swimming montage, and a reggae duet.
Fin-tacular high-fives aside, it does make me wonder. After a hundred years of being hunted, how long would it take you to trust humans in the water? It may be generations to us, but the world is a different place under the Arctic seas, where centuries stretch to the frozen horizon.
OH! One more thing before I go - as I entered my apt. building - a lady walked in carrying a Met program. I asked her what she saw and she said SATYAGRAHA. (Insert my reaction here.) She said "Oh so you're into opera." Me: Yes. Satyagraha is my FAAAAAVORITE. Her: It's very powerful - it took me a bit to get into it but once I did - it's just fabulous. (she disappeared behind one of the fire doors as I waited for the elevator - SQUEEEEEEELING that someone in my building LISTENS TO SATYAGRAHA AND LIKES IT! WAIJIADUHAWUIDHAWUDHAWUYDHA~ EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
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