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Archive for the ‘career’ Category

I have been toying with closing this blog down for several months.

It was my life line when my marriage fell apart.

And then it became a way to write creatively and explore my budding love of photography.

And now it feels like a burden.

I want to bring you great stories, but I’ve been so happy living my life that whenever I think “ah, this needs to be blogged” I promptly forget what it was I wanted to blog.

I want to be open to comments, but my last round of abusive commenting provoked me to remove my favorite list from this blog because I’m not sure I can handle another such attack.

I want to stay.  But I’m learning to balance my online time with my real-time.  And this means far more real-time than online time.  And, frankly, I like it that way.

So every couple of weeks I make the decision to say farewell.  And then a few days later, I change my mind.

And this would be why I’ve been posting so rarely.

Needless to say, I’m still undecided.

But, I am not undecided about my other blog.  The one that is even more neglected than this one.  I’ll be posting far more over there, for certain, because the thing that has me preoccupied is my transition into a position of artistic leadership.  I’m learning a lot and I feel it’s important to share.  I hope, if I fail here, you will at least follow me over there.

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It’s pretty ironic, really, that I have been spending hours online messing with things like websites, social networking, and decoding twitter-speak and it has left me with no time to blog here.  At my first bloggy site of love.  (Can I tell you how much it pleases me that that sentence resembles “love at first sight” and yet frustrates me that I couldn’t edit it to make it a more recognizable pun?)

After declaring, on my thirtieth birthday no less, a year of just me, no DOing, I went and got doing.

I been doing a lot lately.

No, not in the sack.  You all have one track minds.

Here are my latest adventures.  They keep me up late.  I can’t keep my mind off of them.  I am excited beyond belief.  I am terrified to my core:

  • PictureBook Plays has gotten a complete overhaul after its last publisher turn-down.  The task was immense and still ongoing.
  • GAN-e-meed Theatre Projecthas been launched to the online public and is now in the process of a bloggy face-lift.  Next step…press releases. (fine print: we need to raise 32K by April 2010 so please email me and then send me a check)
  • I have been accepted to present a workshop at NAEYC in DC this fall.  Apparently, it’s not easy to get a workshop accepted so this is a huge honor and a big step in my career. 

More anon.

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Hail.  Hail the size of nickels bounced off the green green grass.  Hopping like hundreds of snow white frogs.  My cast, a hodgepodge of amateur thespians, stared in wonder and horror at nature’s bounty.  Several came dashing out into the lawn to feel the balls bouncing off their heads and shoulders, picking them up to examine their size and heft.  Hail truly is made up of small balls of ice.  Ice formed high above our heads, just waiting to crash down and rain out a rehearsal.

My mommy’s voice.  I dozed in the rocker as she read to our child.  My child.  But our child.  My daughter.  But our daughter.  And I realized that not only is my mother’s embrace the best in the world, but her voice is the most comforting sound I could recall.  Her read-aloud voice.  It ebbs and flows like an ocean, full of rich undertones, soft secrets, and hidden surprises.  It is the voice of knowledge, love, home, and bravery.  I could listen to my mommy read aloud forever.

A sandwich.  A sandwich made of hummus infused with all sorts of delicious and rarely tasted spices.  smothered in a delicacy of vegetables.  Encased in wheat bread.  Yes.  Wheat.  The forbidden grain.  And I ate with gusto.  I ate with dread.  This grain could send me into waves of nausea, doubled up in pain.  It didn’t. And it won’t.  And my body breaths a sigh of relief because I sure love my bread.

Soft cool cheek.  She pressed her cheek up against mine as I carried her through the damp night.  Put to sleep at her baby-sitter’s, picked up by me, deep into the night, at the end of rehearsal.  She whimpered slightly when I tucked her into the car seat.  She did not expect a cold, hard car seat after mama’s warm embrace.  Only the car in motion lulled her back to sleep.  Back home, confused, we drank some milk and sank into her rocking chair to cuddle, sing, hum, and breath her back to her dreams.

And I am left alone.  Staring at the clock on my computer screen, knowing full well I have broken my promise to myself to be asleep by now because I was busy searching for something to write.  What I don’t know is if I was searching for something for you, reader, or for me, author.  For whom do I actually write?

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If you create a file, you should know the name of it.

If you create a sister file, you should also know the name of that file.

If you repeat these steps four or five times, you should know which file matches up with which file.

If I ask you to indicate which file matches with which, you should be able to easily complete this task.

You should not be replying by telling me if I only read through the text, or watched the file, I could match them myself.

I do not have time to do your job.

I barely have time to do my job.

I am surrounded by idiots and, according to this culture, I’m not allowed to tell them they’re being idiots without being sued.  Or fired.  Or maybe I’m just too chicken so I put up whiny posts on my blog instead.

Today is already sucking and it’s only 9:45am.

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My current cast of fabulous high schoolers open this week in Electra.

Electra and the Chorus of Women

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in honor of all things that make blogs great, i’d like to introduce you to a new blog:

living oprah

written by a fantastically funny woman/performer/writer who i had the pleasure of working with back in chi-town.  she has set out to live the year 2008 according to oprah.  that’s right, she’s watching the show, reading the magazine, reading all the books oprah recommends, and basically attempting to do whatever oprah says she should in order to live a happier more successful life.

i have my sincere doubts about whether an “oprah lifestyle” will actually make her life better, but it will certainly be a really funny year watching her try!

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A__ took the plunge recently and decided to try out some career options:

Refrigerator Maintenance

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Telephone Repairs

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after closely analyzing her distinctive and haphazard technique, i’ve decided i should do my best to push her towards secretarial school.  then, if she climbs the typewriter, at least she’ll still type something with her toes.

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