Okay. Gettin' this...

With family in far away places.

I went out for New Year's Eve Eve..

Who knew! A House of Blues venue ='s badass.

I shook Neil Gaimen's hand and congratulated him on his lamppost!

I made friends at the Dresden Dolls concert with a group of similarly minded ladies. I wish I had taken pictures of them.

Met the girlfriend of the magician that the magician in American Gods is based off of. Met a future science teacher in four inch heels, and an adorable coffeeshop manager named Lauren. Met a bear of a man who watches music and protects the short. Met his short blond girlfriend, who loved it when he glowered at people who were being loud jerks.

I sleep in a big bed and eat leftovers. There are two huge dogs to be friends with. Very lucky.

Southern Cali feels like the Midwest, except looser and sillier. There's sadness here, but there's also an amazing amount of sunshine... beautiful sites.. SUNSHINE. Having weather that won't kill you seems to relax people.

However - - that being said - - being here, and being in AZ - - I'm realizing just how damned lucky I am to know some of the smartest, funniest, most embittered, optimistic, self-deprecating, proud, generous and over all, awesome people in Mpls. Minneapolis - - you're killer smart.

All the people in the world seem to travel between Los Angeles and San Diego at all times. They never stop.

Wandered around Carlsbad with my aunt this afternoon, and talked family. Drank coffee, drank wine, ate tacos, very lucky.

2010 was hard. 2010 was good. 2010 was awesome. 2011 will be even better.

HAPPY NEW YEAR'S EVERYONE! May your 2011 be the best year yet!

Onward.

Christmas...

Anyone else wanna say.. How fucking weird.

- It's strange that the changes experienced in the last five years can somehow outshine or outshadow the changes experienced between ages 19-22. Or even 12-17, at times.

- It's strange to experience Christmas under blue skies and lovely temperatures. I can't stop saying it: "It's so beautiful out".

- It's strange to feel as though you and your mom sometimes come second to friends. And sometimes second to a tablecloth.

- It's strange to accept an apology for said behavior.

- And really truly accept it. And the responsibility of accepting an apology.

- It's strange to not know what to do.

- It's strange that it will all end in 2+ days.

I'm so lucky to be with my mom and my sister. So lucky and blessed to be here together.

Also so strange and lucky to try and figure out holidays as grown ups. With no real reason to be together except that we want to be. Even if we're not sometimes ready to be.

Onward.

It's today!

It's today! :) So silly, but... yea.

Goals for the coming year: Adventure and wisdom.

As my friend Drew said, "it's going to be a good year".

Life notes:
- I just got done taking a voice over workshop which was incredibly lovely as Beth Chaplin rocks. I am also taking voice lessons. And have signed up for an Audition Workshop. All this actual training surely means that my career will transform from teacher performer to accountant barista any day now.

What I learned:
- I probably won't work as a spokesperson. It'd be wonderful to work as a spokesperson, but unless that spokesperson is a spokesperson for otters or small waterfowl, it probably won't be me.

- I hiss my sss's. AGHHH!! I'm working on it, but it sounds like a 14 year old is trying to sell you life inssssuranccce. Good god.

- I am the laziest of speakers. I drop words. I smoosh the ends of words together with the beginning of words. I create gross human centipedes out of simple sentences. Challenge!!!

So yes - - not only will this be a year of wisdom and adventure, it will also be a year of attempting to speak like Julie Andrews.

(Gosh, she's pretty.)

Things I'm looking forward to in the short term:

- More yoga. I'm a squishy convert. It's seeping into my vocabulary. I told an improv class to "honor" the focus of the scene. And to "get back onto their mats". Doomed.

- CHICAGO AVENUE PROJECT!! Kids write the plays and words for the song - - grown ups direct and act it out. So good. It'll be my second time doing the music for CAP (I've worked as a director a couple of times before with them).

For this session of CAP, the cast is jawdropping. Stupidly jawdropping. I thought last spring was crazy pants - - it just got crazy pantsier. I WILL write a song for the incredibly lovely and talented opera singer! It WILL be about being a fashionista! More info to come!

There's more stuff to come, but I just wanted to write how damned lucky and grateful I am. How lucky I am to know you. All such good things.

Onward.

Life's hard.. But it ain't that hard.

Happiness is an inside job, true. And if you have your health (and are lucky enough to have friends and family too), you're doing damned good.

Not being prepared for the painters to start working on the house.. and thinking you had extra house keys but none of them work.. and so your roommate who works second shift has had to deal with the contractors -- yeah. Usually I'm better prepared than this, or I try to be. Usually I'm in town.

It's all working (by the grace of roommate and contractors), but.. I thought it was all supposed to have been done last week.. Given that, you'd think I would have put some thought into what the contractors might need. Like house keys. Gah.

The reason I'm out of town is that I'm in Sioux City (our airport code is SUX. Thankfully, awesome people have taken advantage of this gift. See above) visiting mom. The "What I'd like more of in 2010" goal of "see Mom every season" is almost complete! That's good, as my "listen to more classical music" goal hasn't amounted to poop.

Onward.

That's the price of a car!

The plumber was early. That's pretty awesome for a plumber to be. However, it was 8:35a.m., and I was still in bed, guessing I had at least 10 minutes to put on pants. Alas. .. This totally sounds like the beginning of a porno.

About a year ago, my mom came up and helped WALLPAPER THE KITCHEN CEILING. Not only would the prescribed plumbing remedy (again, porno) tear down that beautiful ceiling, lovingly put up with minimal swears, but it would (my dog just farted..) cost as much as a used car.

So - - this is what needs to happen to my house. There is no denying that.

However, I'm hoping to put the house on the market in about 6+ months.

Will this repair increase the price of my house by that much? Heavens no. If I don't do it, will the potential buyer ask for the cost of the repair to be taken out of the asking price? Heavens yes, and wisely so.

This is what adulthood smells like sometimes. Dog farts.

Wow, it's windy out.

Anywhoo - -

A teenager has come to live with us. His name is Frank, which is short for Franklin (as in Benjamin Franklin, Frank Mills - - who I've actually never seen - - , and Franklin Richards, son of Mr. Fantastic.) Frank is grey with yellowgoldbrown eyes. Frank likes cuddles and merlot (per picture), long walks on the beach and having the other animals chase him. He's classy.

Franklin bounded in, as all relationships start, with all of his junk attached. Tomorrow, we go in for the operation. Please send good thoughts Frank's way.

Hey! I have a show coming up. Please come - - it's funny. :)

Made it to the state fair, and am comfortable with all of my food choices! Pictures to come!

Onward.

BWAHAHAHA! My friend is an oracle.

My friend Scott facebook'd me this.. (it's ever so slightly lady Gaga, if only cuz Lady Gaga is on everyone's mind this week)

"I had a fantastic dream with you as the star. BNW was putting on Jen Scott Days because of the critical and public success of your web show with its write-up in Newsweek. You were doing a live version of that show in which you play a Science Fiction Tooth Fairy with a long-standing grudge with Mr. Spock. In the show you solve humorous math puzzles, take a bubble bath wearing a flesh-colored tinker-bell costume and have fans who help you by selling instant print, custom bumper stickers in the lobby.

The fame and production (with its 1970s Dr. Who special effects) are stressing you out a little bit, but you are having a great deal of fun because you realize that the fame is transient. As you point out, yours are the only posters in the BNW with a "Please Remove by....." date on them."

Mine ARE the only posters with a remove by date on them at the BNW. Humorous math problems! And Mr. Spock is so frustrating!

Uhm. I really want to do the Science Fiction Tooth Fairy show now. If this is a sign that I need to put together a web show, good god -- I will follow this sign!!!

1970s special effects make me think of Dr. Who, which makes me think of the Star Hustler.



There is only happiness here.

Fame is transient, friends.

This means I need to let Joe and Brandi about the dreams I dreamt about them in the last two days (German beerhall basement theater and fitness programs that only Williams' grads know).

Onward. :)

Oh man..

Oh man Oh man.. Life is so.. lifey.

And that wisestupid little tidbit is to YOU YOU YOU! As you make my life super happy. I am truly blessed to share words and space with some damned awesome people. Holy crap. Thank you. :)

Funny day. :) Passed out HUGE bracelets at the Uptown Market (Taj and I told only one story, about a cairn terrier named.. oh crap. There was a black lab named Saul *heh* and the cairn terrier looked like Toto.. oh man! It was a sweet name.. The story we told was about him, and his way with "the ladies". Otherwise, we played on our pretend ukeleles and talked to Uptowners.. People were nice and seemed genuinely excited about a new theater opening up mere blocks from where we were playing our air-keleles. .. air-keleles? yes. Yea!)

We then ate a tofu dog, and raced away to Fringe.

Probably my favorite "Story Time Time Bomb" today - - right feel, right silliness. So good. (and Butch played us some Led Zeppelin, and I got to scream like Robert Plant in "Immigrants Song" - - which might be the most fun thing to do ever. No wonder Robert Plant did it so much.)

And then to see "Spin", which I will talk about (as it was so damned good), but I have to put on a dress.

Pleaseplease have an awesome night. There was more to this day, but this is what's important. You rule.

Onward. :)

P.S. Note! Lemons have been scraped, cherries have been doused. In 3-6 months, basil limoncello and cherry whiskey manhattans will flow! You're invited. If I'm on the ball, there will also be pickled eggs. We will feast like old men! Win.

Beautiful.

Yoga and cooking and red wine

If I can do all three of these in a day, it's a win. A total win. Today was a very lucky day.. Hey look - - THEATER!

Did a show. Yea! THEATER!

And then saw the beautiful and excellent Uncle Shelby's Traveling Treasure Trunk - - I will write this in a Fringe review, but goddamn - - these men, this Jonathan Goldberg & Dan Moyer, write how I want to write and what I want to see. Absolutely lovely performances too. Plus - - ACTORS! If you are looking for quirk-tastic and emotionally driven monologues, look no further. This show made me so happy.

And then, onto MORE THEATER!! Mark Shyzer in "Fishbowl" - - I will also say this in a Fringe review, but Mark Shyzer is the handsome, immensely talented version of Plastic Man. (not that Plastic Man wasn't talented, just.. this guy..) Truly lovely show.

It was right before "Fishbowl" that I counted the number of shows I've seen so far - - 15. Not bad. I'm performing in 18. ..I AM FRINGING THE FRINGEY FRINGE!

(This, however, is nothing to the 33 show Fringe of ought 'seven, where Joe, Tim and myself performed in 31 shows each. I think I might have beat them out by playing in a couple of "An Intimate Evening with Mike Fotis"-es, moving my total up to 33. We were Fringe zombies. Hard and fun.)

Also, I'm not seeing everything I want to - - friends keep selling out, timing doesn't work.. This is a very good year, friends.

And then, over the next two days, only five more performances (and hopefully seeing at least a couple other shows), a week of teaching the last of the little-kid-theater-stuff, and then summer is done.. in my brain. This was the summer of work, and I was lucky to do so. But also a summer of fun. I need to stop referring to this present time in the past - - there's even a week left. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Life has parced itself up into one hour segments. Fringe show - one hour. Voice lesson - one hour. Yoga class - one hour. One scheduled hour, with a half hour on either side for good measure. I don't mind this at all, except wondering if my attention span has adjusted accordingly. Movies are again beyond my pervue.

I'm really tired.

Onward.

P.S. You know what sounds kind of good and dumb - - the State Fair. It sounds really stupid, and really.. okay. There's a bag of minidonuts is waiting for me, along with the placental cuteness of the "Miracle of Life" booth. What will happen??

Fringe

How you can check and see if you are truly "Fringing":

a) Your sleep schedule is off. If you see a 10 p.m. show, you're not going to be able to sleep until at least 1 a.m.. And if you end up going to Bedlam after said 10 p.m., you're screwed. And generally speaking, happily so.

b) You wonder why you're tired, and realize that this is your 2nd to 3rd 14 hour day in a row.

c) You've danced like a hippie at least once. And again, happily so.

d) You can't leave the house without wallet, keys, fringe button.

e) You get comfy with the idea that all we do in Minneapolis is make and see art. All of our lives, all of our schedules and play time and relationships circle around making and seeing art.

There is life and wonderful people outside of this condensed, magnetized situation, an it's good to remember this while in the middle of the brawl.

But it's been lovely. So lucky, so much goodness.

I accidently saw some dance tonight. I wanted to see Spin, and thought it was at the Southern (without, you know, checking the postcard or web or anything... Assuming they had set the wrong program out in the lobby. I am an idiot, at times). Instead, I saw dance. agh! I learned:

a) There's some pretty good music in this modern dance stuff.

b) According to Mr. Munger, dancers are currently in discussion as to what exactly qualifies as their art form. What is dance? What isn't? Therefore, what's good, what's derivitive and what's not? I certainly don't know, and it sounds like they're, as a community, discussing such. Neat! I can't tell you what's good or bad (I have little reference), but I can tell you when I was engaged, when I wasn't, and when it was fun.

c) I have decided, for my own purposes, that dance is a physical meditation on a subject, story, theme, idea or song. A meditation, like walking a labrynith. Not necessarily a narrative, but reflections and interpretations told through action or non-action. That's all I've got.

d) I was trying to create an acting/improv/clowning/mime/dance spectrum in my head, but it's a double rainbow all the way. It's just not that clean of a breakdown.

e) That's a 3 week old reference. You're welcome. :)

f) I love it when dancers make eye contact.

g) I love it when dancers smile. Cause then it looks fun. I want a black leotard too!

h) John Munger's phrase "athletic and artsy" makes me so happy. Two things, that can be somewhat opposite in many minds. Again, neat. :)

i) Casebolt and Smith are damned inspirational. They don't set off to be. They just are. We are lucky.

Whew. Also, 'thought we had a good "Quest" tonight. We are nerds, friends.

Happy Fringing!

I'm really tired.

Onward.

What you can do in 45 minutes..

Hi friends. Long time no blabby.

Uh. Michele said to post this, and she tends to be correct about many things.

I got to take part in a Flash Fiction event with Replacement Press last night. Holy crap. It was wonderful.

They've rented a store front (at the old Arise Bookstore space) to celebrate the publishing of John Jodzio's (an awesomely nice guy) If You Lived Here You’d Already Be Home.

They brought us four improvisers (Damian Johnson, Mike Fotis, Michele Campbell and me) in, introduced us, gave us a 'prompt' (a sentence from John's book) and then sent us off to write for 45 minutes. (While the lovely band "We Became Actors" played. Win.)

We then came back and read/almost-perform our stuff. Which like that. Neat.

And then they gave us beer and fancy cupcakes! I bought a book. It was lovely.

This is what came out. I haven't changed anything since last night except for one word. Meaning, you get all of my crap grammar.

Feel free to read or not read. I totally turned into a cat lady.

If you do read it, I hope you like it. Again, see above cat-lady-ness.

Hoping things are excellent!!!

Onward.

"If Whiskers could talk, he would tell you that this was his dying wish."

- - Jen Scott, July 18, 2010

If Whiskers could talk, he would tell you that this was his dying wish.

Some people would assume that it would be a brand new sofa, untouched by any other cats' claws. That he would slide his folded paper claws into the upholstery, grip and slowly, happily, pull.

And the pull would be delicious. Satisfying. Impermanent.
A crunch
A pull of weight
A drop

But that wasn't it.

************************

If Whiskers could talk, he would tell you that this was his dying wish.

Some people would assume that it would be in regards to the nameless baby. The soft strong loud pink thing that smelled both of antiseptic and moist plastic.

He watched his owners' pupils dilate every time this thing moved, breathed, stepped or howled. He would look into his owners' future and would watch how their worlds, now shiny and freshly purchased, would get gently bruised and busted up, fingerprinted, and any semblance of perfection disintegrated into comfort.

This thing was interesting to watch, but ultimately destructive.

Some would think that Whisker's dying wish would be to lead this shambling pink things into the street, where a kindly couple or old woman or pack of wolves would take care of it.

But this wasn't his dying wish either.

************************

Whiskers contemplated his dying wish.

What they don't tell you is that you don't get just one.

You get as many as you'd like.

He thought seven would do (Nine would be expected, but Whiskers was contrary and a bit of a dick, as he was a cat.)

1) He'd wish the back back alive. It was sad when the terrier died.
2) Wet cat food.
3) Cheese. He loved cheese.
4) His owner's bed. All of it.
5) Air conditioning. He was a long hair and summer's were awful.
6) His mom. His mother was wonderful.
7) A chance to really sit down with his owners and have a one to one.

It might have gone something like this:

"Dave," Whiskers would say, sitting up properly and focusing his perfect patchwork eyes upon Dave.

"Yes, Whiskers." Dave was wearing Dockers. Cat hair stuck stubbornly to his red polo.

"Dave, you seem really.. unrelaxed. It was nice when you sat in the recliner. You rarely do that anymore."

"It's the baby, Whiskers - "

"I know, Dave. But just please keeping doing what makes you happy."

"I have no choice - - "

"I just want you to think about it. Now please let me head butt you."

And Whiskers would headbutt Dave, and Dave would scratch Whiskers under his chin and around his jawbones. Whiskers let his tail land lightly on Dave's shoulder, leaving seven long white hair.

"Gretchen," Whiskers would say.

Gretchen would be thrilled. This was every childhood dream. A talking cat. Flying ponies would be next. Anything was possible.

"Gretchen," Whiskers let his stomach relax onto the chair, "Firstly, stop wearing that perfume. Dave's allergic to it. But he bought it for you and he knows it makes you happy, but for both of your sakes, possibly for the sake of your union, please give it up."

And Gretchen would nod, and possibly offer Whiskers a small plate of canned tuna, as this was a special occasion. Dave nibbled on the 'Nilla wafers Gretchen bought for him.

"Gretchen - you're a mother now, and you're a good one. You gave me a good place to live, just as you should have. However, Gretchen, you'll need to tell your baby a very scary word. Your baby needs no."

"But Whiskers - "

"It's not like a cat, Gretchen. Cats don't know no. We know it exists, but honestly, it's a stupid word that has nothing to do with cats, but everything to do with humans and their babies."

**************************

Whiskers smiled at the ideas. These were a good seven wishes. Good seven ideas.

And back in the condo where Whiskers lived, he let his creaky old body relax into the recliner, stretching his haunches until they almost came off the cushion, stretching his back, his toes, every atom of his humming, quietly.

Whiskers closed his eyes, half-breathing, half-purring, until he fell asleep.

New! Kinda Exciting! Depends on Your Perspective!

Hey look.. It's July. I'm a jerk.

I will return to blabbing on this thing. But until then:

THE RETURN OF OCTOBERDANDY.COM!!!

(Truly, not as exciting as all caps might warrant, but.. hey.. look! What I'm up to professionally to semi-professionally.)

(And I'll fix those lame video links.)

Hoping things are good by you!

Onward.

So much self improvement!

That's right! I bought a compost bin, went to the gym, and saw my shrink/counselor. I will be self-improved!

All of this self-improvement was quickly tempered by a trip to Dairy Queen. Done and done.

Yesterday, I gave blood. If there's anything that will give you the same moral, civic, sometimes uppity thrill as voting, it's giving blood. It's cheaper than donating to public radio! But with cookies! Plus, they give you the ultimate sign of moral superiority: a sticker. See my sticker, tremble with civic guilt..!

The wonderful thing was that I got to see my two favorite nurses. They are absolutely wonderful and lovely. And might come see Overheard tomorrow..!

Things learned and done today:

- Veterans of Foreign Wars make amazing tacos. My friends Sue and Josh were nice enough to guide me to Winners on the west side of St. Paul, where veterans of foreign wars not only make these beautiful things (they even fried the shells! The salsa was homemade!), but also bring them out to you, and then buy candy bars from their grandkids.

- Performed at Sample Night Live with a group of Improvisers performing "The Quest" - - a Micheal Gellman inspired improv form. We had squirrels and pooping unicorns. For seven minutes, it was seven minutes of fun.

- A string quarter also performed a little bit of "Stairway to Heaven" and there were some lovely familiar faces doing funny things (Hi Joe! Hi Dave!). Thanks, Sample Night!

- My dog might actually be seven years old. A post card from his old old vet (pre-me, in the Pickles timeline) hinted at that.. Who knew?

There was some sort of theme I was going to approach and write about, but it all got washed away.

A gentleman named Vladimir is repairing my bass.

Onward.

Hi

Without going into too much explanation, I've been hiding. But I'm coming back. As I miss you. Here comes babbling!

Note #1
I splitting a CSA share, which means, every two weeks, a box of lonely vegetables will be waiting for me!

The funny and lovely thing about CSA's is that you don't know what you're going to get. It's like a raw Farmers' Market bento box.. This week I'm getting:

- Ramps! What the hell are ramps?! In the onion and garlic family. Cool. People who like ramps REALLY like ramps.

- French Breakfast Radishs. Ahh.. Of course. The breakfast radish, are otherwise know as the Flambo radish, which is possibly the best thing ever.

- Dogwood or willow. I think this means I get pretty flowers. Or possibly a tree.

I'm also receiving a number of things that are "overwintered". This is an incredibly useful adjective, especially given where I live. This year, most of us have been overwintered.

Note #2
I did a play by a dead playwright! This rarely happens. But the play was lovely (and depressing.. It was "All My Sons" by Arthur Miller, as opposed to "My 3 Sons" which one poor gentleman had actually come to see.)

- I got to play the horrible horrible neighbor. People didn't like me. They wanted to like me (as St. Cloud audiences are basically wonderful and supportive), but then I said really mean things. Which is kind of the arc of the play too. Nice people, nice situation on the surface, and then everything goes to shit. Ah.

- As all of the action take place in a backyard, the theater owners decided to lay sod on the stage. It was impressive! And after two weekends, it was full of gnats. Tricky! Kind of gross! And oddly delightful. The play takes place in August, and by god, we had gnats. Flying into people mouths and getting into the grape drinks. Probably laying eggs in curtains, hanging out on the plastic shrubbery. Gross and kind of funny. Don't mess with nature, she'll bring gnats.

Note #3
I get to go see my sister in a couple of days, on her adopted turf of Tempe, AZ*. I'm going to hang out, eat at El Pollo Supremo, and do her taxes. It's already in the 90's down there. I will sweat, look at graduate student art, and maybe clean her apartment.

Thanks for the babble-listening.

Onward.

*Last time I was in AZ, the NBL All Star Game was in Phoenix. My mom and I stayed at a hoochie-filled Hilton in Scottsdale. It was really really gross. Rarely do I hear mom wonder "how many do you think are prostitutes?" Starf*&ers**, in the very least. Cleavage and other parts no daughter wants her mom to see. Ick poo.

**If I ever use the term "starf*&er, you can smell the poser radiate off of me. But I also feel a little like Tori Amos, circa "Boys for Pele"***. Not necessarily a win win, but there it is.

***Damn fine album.

So that happened..

I got bitchslapped by my stairs last night.

Every night, my dog wakes me up at either 3 a.m. or 5 a.m. to be asked to be let out.. This is a natural thing for a dog owner, unless you are one of those amazing superstars that crate-trained your puppies. You, friends, are incredible.

I live in a old house with wooden floors and stairs. I had, just last week, had a talk with my friend Matt regarding the slipperiness of stairs.

As far as I can tell, I first slipped on my heel, scraping it, then landed on my tailbone, scraping it and propelling me forward, to scrape up my chest, neck and thunk an amazing thunk into and out of my forehead.

I got up from this, let the dog out, and then promptly passed out in the kitchen, blood pooling and running down the basement stairs.

It sounds hideous, but that's exactly what happened.

I woke up in said pool to Pickles barking outside, wondering where I was and why something hurt. And then promptly began to cry.

Went upstairs, washed off my face, crying. I mostly wanted more sleep, I did not want to see this far into my skin (the skin had separated and was that my skull?), I was in shock. I began to plan and plan (I had a shoot at 9:30 a.m.), crying and crying.. It was the best response I could muster - - maybe as I've been crying so much the last couple weeks, maybe because shock is shock, maybe because it was the best and only response. I put on clothes and drove myself to hospital, holding a paper towel to my head and sobbing.

I've been reading "The Hunger Games" by Suzanne Collins, which is so damnedly good and jawdroppingly violent. It's like watching a newsreport, but here we love these characters so much. (sort of the same story as "Battle Royale" - - read both!) I kept thinking about the main character, and her last injury I had just read (whip to face!), and continued to cry and cry.

It's scary to black out. It's scary to have life happen to you. (as the doctor said, it's just life) I got hurt, but it could have been so much worse. And that's probably the scariest.

I was not drunk, I was not hungover, I fell down the stairs, the most cliche' of all injuries, and the hospital staff believed me. Comedically speaking, they shouldn't have. But they did.

Going to the hospital felt like going to a salon. This is beyond my means, you people are paid to do this, please take care of me.

And that's what happened! I wore a hospital gown, they gave me pre-warmed blankets, they asked me what day it was, they popped me full of tetanus shot, they gave me a CT scan and looked at my brain. They wheeled me around on a gurney, which weirdly unexpected. I was with it enough not too laugh at the orderly's (from Crystal, MN) Iowa joke, which caused him to backpedal ("Iowa's not so bad.") They were awesome and professional and called me hon. Usually, someone has to travel at least 500 miles south to be called 'hon' by strangers. Not here.

It's all rapidly becoming all dreamlike. My doctor was awesome. Everyone, including himself, was very impressed with his stitches, of which I have seven.

They let me sleep under bright bright lights, only to be woken by someone screaming "OWOWOWOWWOWWOW! I don't want it in my head!!!" a couple doors down. Emergency rooms.

I drove myself home (which was also stupid, but.. see shoot at 9:30 a.m.), kind of slept for a hour, got up, ironed, did the shoot, and went back home to sleep until the water meter man arrived (he was supposed to arrive next Tuesday).

Thankful things: I'm okay! No need to call or check on me. I have awesome Frankenstein stitches and my head hurts, but I'm okay! The cut is under my bangs, so I could do the shoot this morning. (What if it had been my eye or my cheek? Vanity plays a part, and so does makin' the cash... Not that it should matter AT ALL, but it would have mattered Monday morning..) I'm going to have a scar on my right forehead, but it's not going to be "too bad". I can't see what might have been my skull anymore, and for that, I am incredibly grateful.

Lesson #3456: Wake up your roommate and have her drive you to the hospital. This way, you won't get the shocked look of "You drove yourself?" from the hospital staff. Also, your roommate won't be surprised or creeped out when she wakes to blood seemingly everywhere.

Lesson #2225: Time to put runners on the stairs! We must prepare our living places for us. I feel as though I'm ready to toddler-proof the house, but I'm the toddler. I've realized that I cannot and shouldn't live in this house as an old person. I didn't see myself doing that, but.. it's just a affirmation.

When I'm old, I might live in something all short, cute and midcentury, with barely any stairs to trip over. I will have a living room-kitchen-dining-room area, a sunroom with windows, and two small bedrooms, maybe an office. It will be separated enough from the neighbors, that I can outside in my yard or porch and not have to explain my presence. It will in a nice enough area, that I can sleep with my windows open. My dog and cat will shed everywhere and want to destroy the squirrels we see.

This is a lovely dream, and even as I love and adore my house, I like this dream too.

I'm really really tired.

Onward.

I ain't puttin' nuthin'..

This blog will be all about what I've consumed today. It was, very luckily, a day of bargains.

- I ate 3/4's of a free bagel (shared with the beautiful Rita) at 9:30 a.m. improv rehearsal today. (The bagel was from Panera. Seriously.) And then I stole some wi-fi.

- Sunshine! Sunshine is free.

- I went to the gym - - which does cost. However, I got to see a Beyonce' and Janet Jackson videos while there for free, and music videos are either horrid or fascinating. (i.e. anything by the artist Jesse James stinks of dirty hoo. Beyonce videos are cool. Janet Jackson videos haven't changed in 25 years.)

- I bought almonds and gum. Not free. But really good to have in the car.

- I went to Opitz and got a supposedly $384 dress for $1. Because it was missing a zipper pull. Holy crap!

The psychology of this dress making it to the $1 bin is kinda fascinating. How much does the lack of a small, plastic, replaceable bit depreciate something? Weird. (Granted, if I had $384 to spend on a dress, I'd get the one with the zipper pull. But.. indeed.)

- Visited Hannah at work. Hannah works at the Smitten Kitten, which is a store. However, I didn't buy anything and instead got laughs, stories and hugs. And I might join a book club.

- I went to second improv rehearsal, which don't cost nuthin'. And we learned together.

- I went to Indian with friend Melanie, and shoveled 3x the amount of food I normally eat for dinner into my gullet. Because, supposedly, it was a serving. It was served, in a beautiful platter with tv dinner style compartments, as a serving. And Melanie and I were on a tear. And OHMYGOD it was sooo good. It was stupid good. It tasted like awesome and, afterwards, felt painfully like Thanksgiving. And it cost $15 each. Ridiculous.

I can't do that again any time soon. But.. I sure want to. Thank you, Gandi Mahal!!

- Melanie and I talked about the books we loved during our childhood. Talk is free! (However, how much our parents spent on Weekly Reader or Troll Book orders.. who knows)

- I went for a walk, to try and feel human again, instead of feeling like some Indian eating black hole. Walks are free.

- I went to Improv A Go Go and spent $1 to laugh and laugh. $1!

Troy claiming to be like GizmoDuck shouldn't have tickled me that much. But it did.

There was much cheap or free today. Very lucky.

Tomorrow is about working, as is almost every other day this week. But that's okay. There's much cheap or free to be grateful for.

Onward.

P.S. Saw the Bread and Puppet Theater last night, which, is all about the free and the cheap. Goodness, yes. Funny, talented, fucking way too hip people. Nerds! The making of the plays with puppets shouldn't be cool, but it's really cool. Garbage bags were birds, old table cloths were mountains.. AND, the best ostriches EVER, along with the best and nastiest devil too.

Puppets let you say things and tell stories you couldn't do with just you. It's like cartoons.

And then they give you bread with garlic, which hangs out in your mouth and your nose, as you process what you just saw. Did you like it, did you not. The bread and garlic and thoughts were for free, even if you paid those serving it to do what they did. As you should.

"Sheep, like clouds, escaped through the cracks in heaven."

Puppet shows DO need good audiences..

It was also wonderful to watch a group of multi-talented generalists perform together. Good.

P.S.S. Inside of Gandi Mahal, there is a play area for kids, which rules. They had all these plastic toys, including an Elmo speak and say, laid on polished wooden shelves. There was a moment of cognitive dissonance, as I had seen plastic toys on polished wooden shelves just before. Ah yes.. all of the vibrators and dildos at the Kitten. Brain feels weird for a moment, and shakes it off quick.

Lake runnin'!

Yes! For St. Patrick's Day, I (kinda) ran around the lake FOR THE SECOND TIME THIS YEAR! Yes. Just like my Irish ancestors would have. There's a lake, let's use what precious energy we have, and spend it running around it. And then pray for forgiveness.

My Irish ancestors were, I assume, pretty awesome and probably pretty catholic. I'm lucky to be here, alive, existing, American, all of it - - and nothing gets what strained Irish (?) pride I have up like downtown St. Paul in the afternoon on St. Patrick's Day.

I love the idea of being Irish. I can't wait to go across to visit and see all the green, and maybe some sheep. But.. you bunch of drunkie fakers. So much grossness. I'm sure there's fun there too, but I can't find it through all shirts bought at Target and plastic cups.

My great grandma Jeffries would certainly not have approved.

That being said, maybe it would have helped if I had been drinking too. But it was 12:30 p.m. in the afternoon, and the rest of the day was still waiting.

I don't think that this sort of Mardi Gras was a part of Irish culture. Was it? I say here here and rah rah to Mardi Gras and Carneval and all the rest. (They're awesome traditions! You crazy Catholics! Holy crap!)

But St. Patrick's Day in Minnesota feels so.. weird. Perhaps I needed to hear more plaintive, heart broken singing with fiddles. Perhaps less Coors Lite and more Jameson. Perhaps it's that my completely stereotypical and constructed image of this culture does not fit this other completely stereotypical and constructed image of the "culture". Maybe it's just all the Minnesotan nordic drunkies bein' dumb (Didn't the vikings come kidnap a bunch of Irish as slaves and found Iceland? yes they did!). Maybe I'm just gettin' old.

Truth: If you're a lady over 75 covered in shamrocks, you're probably adorable. If you're a guy under 25 covered in shamrocks, you might be a douche.

Driving home, looked over to see guys openly drinking while driving on the freeway out of clear plastic cups. AGGGHHHH... They were from Ohio. (Ohio, we're still cool.)

Today's scheduled to be a long day. But full of good stuff. Also, I won't be wearing green, as the Pinching Threat Level has dropped, ironically, from orange (curse the Dutch!) to green (erin go bragh).

(There's still sunshine! Even if it snows tomorrow, please enjoy this today!)

Onward.

The skin gets tired...

This blog ain't about anything at all. But I needed a pick me up, so I shall write to you, friends.

Damn, the animals are needy this morning. Sebastian (the cat) promptly wakes me up at 8:15 a.m. every morning. If I don't get up, there is plaintive meow-related hell-to-pay. Perhaps some finger-nibbling. This morning was filled with plaintive I'm-obviously-in-a-lot-of-soul-pain meowing from down the hall. (you know.. so I have to get up)

Pickles (the dog) asks to either be pet, or let out, by scratching at me.

Thank goodness that they are both under 20 lbs, for if they were Great Dane or small Mountain Cat sized, I'd be bleeding and beaten.

Spring in MN is the season of poop. The poop lies hidden underneath the snow, sleeping, for months - - now it is everywhere. Poop wants to get inside the house, to join it's friends in the litterbox. You have to Gene Kelly dance from the garage to the house. Poop.

Things:

- Saw Pocohontas County at the 331 with dear friends Josh & Sue last night. I am not the world's biggest bluegrass fan, but sweet christ, they're adorable. Four or so young guys, and one man, probably in his 70's. Certainly in a cowboy hat. What's their story? Did the young guys discover the old guy and ask him to teach them the ways of old timey music, or did the old guy descend from the heavens and pass them each a fiddle, banjo and stand up bass?

Snark moment: Despite my rahrah of this band, do tribal tattoo's go with banjo pickin'? The cool and hip part of me says "of course!". The grumpy and old part of me thinks it looks dumb, and accuses banjo-poser-ing, that you're abusing the dork-coolness of the instrument. Because you might have gotten the tattoos before you got the banjo. Because you should, in my mind, be secretly playing a didgeridoo instead.

But I'm also a hater, and dude could play the banjo pretty damn well. See, you can have big cuffy arm tattoo's and play the banjo. Just like you can wear a bonnet and know how to work a chainsaw. The world has room for all of this.

See, I am fully of hate-y judgement - - you kids these days! I will happily go see them again, unless they find this blog, and kick me out.

- Saw "Green Zone" with Josh & Sue too, as Sue wanted to see some big 'splosion movie. There was MUCH 'splosion! Much grainy 'splosion.

Spoiler:

a) Greg Kineer started the Iraq war.
b) Matt Damon let the truth be known.
c) If you talk in sound clips, it's a war movie.
d) The asshole Special Forces guy looked like Bono! Could this have been ironic?

(oh.. It's Jason Isaacs with a handlebar. Lucius Malfoy with dark hair. hrm. Never mind. That's two Harry Potter actors in this film, the other being the excellent Brendan Gleeson. Holy crap - - Matt Damon is Harry Potter! Greg Kinneer is Voldemort! .. now the film makes sense. Got it.)

That was my Monday. I am very lucky. I also (kinda) ran around a lake! W00t! First (kinda) lake running of the season.

Soon, trips to St. Cloud to perform some heavy Arthur Miller will be happening. But first, there's 2nd and 3rd graders to wrangle, and pray that their parents are cool. (Which they are, admittedly). Let us pray, instead, that I have my act together for class this afternoon. It'll be a trip.

I'm tired and I'm a bit beat, but I'm so proud of some incredible people. People are doing amazing things right now, for themselves, personally. I'm amazed, grateful and proud.

Onward.

You ever..

You ever ask for something, and then immediately start to regret it.

Or wonder if it was the right choice. It seems so much like the right choice some hours ago.

I've asked to not receive some awesomeness.

All I want to do is cry again.

Fuck.

I'll blog about happy things again soon, but right now I'm just all a sensitive mess.

Onward.

It caught up with me

I think everything finally caught up with me.

I watch my schedule like a hawk - - check, recheck. Admire it's ship-shap-ed-ness.

However, I didn't recheck the call time of a show that's returning this weekend. I thought my call was 6 p.m.: guess what started at 4:30 p.m.? Guess what I completely missed?

Thank god for awesome stage managers, and amazing ladies willing to step in at a moment's notice.

I try to load my schedule to the brim when work is available. If I miss something, yes, there is free time, but I'm not making money (and I build a flaky reputation. I don't want that any more of that than what comes naturally.) My schedule, like everyone else's, depends on being where you're supposed to be. The first part of success is showing up.

When the somewhat rare occasion happens that I actually miss something, I feel like a failure on so many levels. And it shows that I have been a 'failure' over so many weeks. Emails, attachments, every sort of reminder was there, sent happily to my inbox door. But I thought I had it right.

It sucks when, sometimes, you can't even trust yourself.

So stupid. Really brain dead dumb. Can't make excuses, gotta get with it.

Hoping that I'm haven't actually secretly busted brain cells, that make this sort of mistake possible. (I haven't been partaking in much behavior that would actually do that. Unless, it's been my impressive intake of almonds and water. I now drink a lot of water. I also eat a lot of almonds. I also try to call my mom on a regular basis. I am very boring.)

Perhaps my cat has added something to the air filter. Maybe my house is making me dumb. See where this line of thinking takes us?

Maybe I should just ACTUALLY double-check my calendar, be skeptical of everything I put down there, breathe, and move on.

Everything worked out tonight. The show went on: I'm very lucky.

Onward.

It's just those days..

(I really like this picture. Like really really. Heh. The most adorable and awkward Midsummer's ever. ARRRRRT!!!)

I've spent the last three hours in admin mode. An email here, a touch there, a keeping up.. Then I dusted my front room carpet. Nothing's finished, nothing's done, everything's up in the air.

Cool thing: I'm going to the gym, where I'm going to finish memorizing a certain "Lost in Science" script.. Excellent!

Cool thing: Was lucky enough to be a part of a Shakespeare workshop yesterday. I now know that perfect amount of information: I am now certainly dangerous.

I loved the workshop. It was basically how to attack a script and, per the Globe, a stage. And each passage was like what I would daydream an archeological site/puzzle to be.. this means this, and this is a reference to this, and how do you say that, and check the meter, and what does the meter mean, and oohhhh! Plus ACTING!!! And gods and goddesses and kings and faeries and love and lots of blood and ACTING!

The gentleman (Eight years at the Globe! Really!) mentioned that he believes that how theater is done now'a'days is very alienating (which is why Hamlet said "we'll hear a play", but now, instead, we got to "see" them - - there's no more listening on either side. The audience has little stake in what's in front of them.) And this shot my brain into a big ole improv/interactive theater buzz. Why do people come and see interactive theater/improv? I do not know, but both art forms, at times, can be the opposite of alienation. Neither cannot exist in a audience-less vacuum: we are audience dependent (at most times.. certainly not at all times).

Interactive Theater, the American cheese of the art world, may be the future of theater! Improv, the daydream of the art world, will guide us and give us penguins! Active art making! Neat!

Smarter people will say it better. At least, less distracted people than I am today.

Then, I went to an audition (which included material which is almost exactly the opposite of what I'm blabbing about, but was super fun anyway).

I need to get up and go. And vacuum the front room. And get out of the house. But yet, stay in the house and do all the crap I should do. URRRGH. Let's just go, shall we.

Onward.

More than monthly..

Well.. trying.

How to eat oatmeal: With almonds and raisins and brown sugar. If you drop about a 1/4 cup of brown sugar into your oatmeal on accident, accept that it was meant to be. Drink with strong coffee if possible. Give to dog afterwards.

How to keep warm: wear lots and lots of layers. Feel exhausted as you're always covered by 20 pounds of depression.

How to watch PRIMEVAL! (Instantly Watchable on the Netflix): Recently started watching "Primeval", which, like much of British SciFi, is delightful, cheesy, and improbable. With DINOSAURS! (and some classy old horror-movie type movie tricks. And lots of Willhelms)

Anywhoo, a "time rift" has opened in Scotland.. London.. whichever. "Time rift".

Luckily, Scotland/London has a slightly sardonic and hardworn handsome paleontologist, along with his assistant, who is "not gay". (The subtext is waayyyyy better if Stephen loves Professor Nick). The rest of this hardscrabble team is made up of a geek and a pretty punk-ish girl. Everyone wears alot of H & M. They're constantly berated by beurocrats. And then there's a swat team. Was this written for 13 year old boys? YES!

Let's put this into the context of a drinking game:

a) Take a drink anytime the cute smart punk girl is seen in her underwear
b) Take a drink anytime Stephen looks to Nick for guidance.. but in a heartfelt way
c) Take a drink anytime the beaurocrat gives Nick a hard time, but then relents
d) Take a drink anytime Captain Tom Ryan goes in with his swat team to GET SHIT DONE!
e) Take a drink anytime the geek does something that actually works
f) Take a drink every time a crush is unrequited
g) Finish the bottle every time a crush is requited, but then is made impossible.

See? Nice clear archetypes. Perfect soap opery British fare. All of this, AND DINOSAURS!?!!!!

Pretty good looking dinosaurs too, in that new-fangled-shiny-British-BBC sort of way.

"Slings and Arrows" it ain't, but it is silly fun.

(I could possibly subsist on a media diet of Venture Bros., Flight of the Conchords, Slings and Arrows, Anthony Bourdain and now.. erm.. Primeval. *sigh* Thank you, Canadians. Thank you, Kiwis. Thank you, New Yorkers. I love you all.)

This has been a remarkably indulgent and not-personal-at-all blog. Erm. Along those lines, I also actually read a book too. "The Graveyard Book", which is possibly the best damn book I have read in years. Thanks, Neil. :)

"We Gotta Bingo" bings for another weekend (with a possible comeback in March? Who knows.. Minnesotans might really need to bingo more.) It's been lovely fun, with the best cast in the world. And the best band in the world. (This weekend, I got to dance with a 4 year old girl who told me, quite seriously, "I know how to really rock and roll." Yes, you do, Clementine. Awesome.) Improv A Go Go doesn't come back for a couple of weeks, but there's plenty to do in the meantime.

Hoping things are good.

Onward.

IT BEGINS!! A list..

Yes. The January we all knew was coming. It should be fun. Let's do this!

a) Six Ring Circus begins again! (good god, there's a myspace page) Students and graduates of the Brave New Institute perform improv for a nominal donation.. it's awesome.

The team I coach, Dr. Rocket, just gained three more members. This team's collective I.Q. is intimidating. Thankfully, they use their powers for good. They're up tonight at 7:30 p.m., at the Brave New Workshop! $1 donation! w00t!

b) We Gotta Bingo opened last weekend, and got a really nice review. Thursdays - Sundays at Hennepin Stages, through February 6th! W00t!

c) OMG! This Friday ONLY at the Mixed Blood Theatre, 11 p.m., $5 - - lovely improv ladies recount awkward stories of their adolescence. It's brilliant.

d) Improv A Go Go this Sunday at the Brave New Workshop, 8 p.m., $1 - - Explorer's Club returns!! Along with the mysterious Snakes & Cakes.. All of which makes me giddy.

e) If you're at the MOA, myself and co-worker Rebecca will be performing at 12noon, Saturday - Monday, as part of their eCommunity event. We will be dressed like caffeinated water droplets, as that's basically what we are.

If you're a performer in the Twin Cities, you will probably end up performing at least once at the MOA. As Mr. Doughty says, 'we're all going to Reseda'. The MOA might be my Reseda.

BUT, it's an adorable show (directed by the awesome Shanan Custer, no less), and we will teach you about the hydrologic cycle. See?

.. and then we'll go to Nordstrom's Rack. Just cuz.

f) I start teaching again. Yea!!!! It's the sum total of 6 hours of my week, but it's what carries the most weight for me. It requires the most preparation, and also the most fuck-it-all. It feels like going to war. But a really silly war. Perhaps just a police action. I'm excited. Wish us all luck.

Also...

I can't make it, but you should go... My bf is performing at Rick Bronson's House of Comedy at the MOA, tonight at 8 p.m.. Auditioning for the Montreal Just For Laughs Festival. THIS IS SO COOL. And the comics involved are just plain, stupidly awesome.

Come out Tuesday Jan 12 and see 12 professional comedians audition for a spot on the biggest and most influential comedy festival in the world: The Montreal Just For Laughs Festival. Show starts at 8pm. Each comic is doing six minutes of time. Please come out and support the Twin Cities scene and laugh your ass off.

Hosted by Rudy Pavich and featuring special guest John Conroy. Here are the comics who will be performing for a spot in order:

Gabe Noah
Jamie Blanchard
Dwight York
Maggie Faris
Mike Brody
Bill Young
Steve Gillespie
Kjell Bjorgen
Patrick Bauer
Tommy Thompson
Chris Maddock
Jessi Campbell

Madness! Really cool stuff, honestly. I feel like I've been typing in exclamation marks for the entirety of this blog.

Final cool things:

a) Streamable MS3TK on netflix.

b) Streamable Anthony Bourdain on netflix.

c) The Cleveland Show is still funny (and on hulu).

d) If your pasta dish tastes boring, add salt and bake it.

e) Clementines are in season.

Hoping your Tuesday is lovely! (I have 4 minutes to shower)

Onward.

That image made me very happy.

But not prefacing it just made it jerky. So sorry!

So to temper this, I am including a posting from "The Daily Puppy". It's very important.

His name is Darwin, and he's "quite the little social director whenever in a group of other puppies."

There. I feel better. Good morning!

Onward.

heh. :)

Bad kid!! Bad kid me!!

Ohhhhhh. I've gotten back into the once-a-month posting habit. Which, as we know, is bullcocky. But thank you lovely people!! For reading and things!! YOU ARE AWESOME!!! Sending hugs at you right now, wherever you are!!

My mom was in town. For nearly a week. (Given the xmas snow beating we took, she waited until routes were pronounced clear by the weather gods. Or at least pronounced non-apocalyptical. Which is fun to say.) I had taken the week off around xmas to hang out with her. For better or worse, she arrived as my schedule was kicking in again. Ah well..

The time she spent was wonderful and so generous of her!! It is also the interruption of quasi-normal routines, and acknowledging that I spent all of 30 minutes of the week alone. (During that time, I tried a exercise routine off of the hulu.com. This is what might do, if you are 34.)

What we did:

- Take Your Mom to Work Day! Luckily, I work in a museum, so there is much to see, and many nice people to show your mom off to. The steps to showing off your mom involve:

a) "Hey, this is my mom!!"

b) Everyone says nice things.

Win!!

- Snack! We destroyed boxes of Triscuits. I could not be happier. We did not snackrifice.

- Wallpapered the kitchen ceiling. There is nothing more terrifying than taking a wet, sticky patterned yard of paper, and matching it to another wet, sticky patterned yard of paper - - above your head. Why?! Neither of us wallpaper -- Neither of us were raised that way*!

But it's done. The kitchen ceiling looks lovely. We didn't swear that much. We faced our fears. It was the hero cycle over and over.

- She came and saw "We Gotta Bingo** ***". Which was so awesome of her. (and Sue and P-Bau!! Thank you!!) No one should have to experience interactive theater unless they really really want to. I don't know if any of them really really wanted to, but they did it!! Thank you!!!

And now she's safely back in Sux City. Merrr..

Things I'd like for 2010:

- Gotta see family more. I don't have that much family. This should not be that big of a deal. Mom needs to be seen at least once a season. I need to get down to AZ to visit my sis. Or, better yet, meet them someplace fun. Which brings us to...

- Keep the travel bug alive. It's so easy to get caught in schedules - - make the time, save the money, make it happen.

- Listen to more classical music. Oh man. I technically have a degree in music. The last twelve years of my life have been orchestra-free (which the previous ten years of my life involved a lot of youth symphony. And college symphony. And pit orchestras. I caught the youtube clip of Amanda Palmer playing Tchaikovsky.. I know this piece. I've accompanied this piece. It's big and show off-y. And lovely.)

So, yes. More classical music. Maybe start with the easy stuff - - which is Dvorak and Copeland for me. Big, gorgeous, melodic picturesque shit - - with lost of brass. And then move into the brainier stuff. A woodwind quartet (which sometimes sound like really talented ducks). A stuff-up-your-shirt minuet. I can feel that this may be like going to the gym.. but I'll feel really good afterwards, honestly.

- Blog more. More blogging makes for better blogs.

Speaking of, this one is running long. And blabby. Happy January thaw, lovely people!

Last note: I dreamt last night that I died. And as they were throwing the dirt on my face, I was just trying to convince myself to let go, and I couldn't. Macabre dream #256.

Onward.

*Honestly. I was raised warned about the terrors of wallpaper. It's a bitch to take off. It's there forever. It's not worth the effort. I was similarly warned about democrats and ear-piercing.. and non-land-grand universities.

**"We Gotta Bingo" is open until the first weekend of February! W00t! This weekend was our opening weekend - - we're all exhausted. A four show weekend is awesome. A four show weekend following a week of rehearsals (plus real life) is tuckering.

*** I love being part of a cast which is mostly over 30. We do our job, we have fun, we support each other, we maybe go out for a drink afterwards, we have kids, we have jobs, we go home. There's a normalcy to it and to this group of people. Even if we play dress up. So very lucky.