I am officially losing it. I always do this. I have these long dry periods of nearly-nothin' and then, BOOM! The apocalyptic explosion of "to-dos" has me frenzied and frantic and all I want to do is stay in bed all day with books and cake and cry a lot.
On my list? Well, first, I have the last minute preparations to wrap up before The Big Gig this Saturday. That includes a set list, making sure we have charts for all the requested songs, finding a trumpet player, procuring stand lights and a piano light, reviewing power and equipment details with Sound Guy, finding a dress to wear, and making sure the musicians are all on the same page about how this crazy night is going to go down. I also need clothes pins (just in case there is wind) and I have to check with the wedding coordinator about the band meals (if there will be any) to make sure there are three vegetarian/vegan plates available, otherwise I will have to plan ahead for feeding the three of us in the band who are rabbits. Not to mention making sure the string quartet has chairs and music stands, and coordinating their arrival and departure to cause as little commotion as possible.
Next, I have to find a new place to live, which includes looking at all the options with a clear enough head to pass on the adorable bungalow in the heights (beautiful paint colors, hardwood floors, charming as can be, huge backyard with room for a garden) in favor of a roomier characterless town home further out. We need space after two years in the current shoebox. The more the better. And we REALLY need 2 toilets now that three butts are using the dang things. (Hooray for potty training!)
Then there are the myriad little gigs coming up in May that I have to get squared away. And an October event with a bride that is efficient and wants to get things done ASAP. I admire her attitude, I just can't accommodate it until this weekend is OVER.
Then there is the new dietary changes I have made. I feel very strongly about the choice to eat a vegan diet, but I have never felt AT ALL strongly about cooking ANYTHING. So I either need to find the enthusiasm to get in the kitchen or I need a live in chef. Any takers? It doesn't pay well, but I'm sure we could work something out. I recently bought some lovely vegan cookbooks (Thank you very much Half Price Books in Rice Village!) and I have every other page dogeared to try, but I can't bring myself to even wash the dang dishes in the sink so that I have a clean enough kitchen to work in. Notice I am procrastinating even this small feat by blogging about it!
Then there is:
packing for the move
the ritual "stuff cleansing" I do every spring and every move, in the hopes that I can one day fit everything I need into a single small uHaul
learning how to use my fancy new camera
paying a few bills
going to the bank (VERY far away)
organizing, sorting, and taking Gwen's baby things to a consignment shop
making it out to my uncle's in Nac for another round of testing (holistic medicine stuff)
And although I have a light week next week, it all picks up again the middle of April with a ton of rehearsals, a concert, an audition, a lesson, and...
Point being, I need help. I might even want my Mommy, except she is dealing with my toddler. I would say I need a drink, but since the diet switch, I can hardly stomach the smell or taste of the liquid poison that was once my dearest therapist.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
joy spring
I have no idea why this flower speaks to me above all others. I don't particularly care for the color yellow, I am not a fan of spring, (at least until it gets here) and it looks a bit odd, truth be told. But I love them. I love every variety. I have a cherished picture (somewhere that I cannot for the life of me find) of an early spring daffodil covered in snow that I took as a child in Arkansas. I remember feeling awe at the bright yellow-on-white contrast, not to mention the odd juxtaposition of a tender blossom in the cold snow.
Just wanted to share!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Happy Birthday Dad.
He is sincerely and unapologetically weird.
He raised me to truly believe that all men are pigs, and that he and I were the only intelligent sane people on the planet.
He was into The Muppets, Captain Crunch, Beast Master, GI Joe, and McDonalds until I was maybe 12 or 13.
I have pictures of him jousting in full chain mail.
He is a scientist, a biologist/zoologist, but he REALLY wants to be an exobiologist...when he grows up. Meaning, he wants to study alien life forms...
He doesn't eat eggs because it is a "single cell" and that skeeves him out.
He doesn't eat pork either, but he isn't jewish.
He always made sure he knew EXACTLY what I wanted for Christmas or birthdays, and he never made fun of me when I wanted something weird or out of character.
He never said an unkind word about my mother, and constantly praised her to me for the job she was doing.
When I got a little older, he took me to dinner with my boyfriend(s) and was always kind and courteous, treating us both like adults even though we were merely children.
When I told him I was getting married, he insisted on paying for the wedding and was truly generous at every step.
When I am with him, I am nervous and unsure, (an odd state for me!) reverting back to my childhood role of Daddy's little girl. Much I have done in life was done with the greater motivation of earning his approval. I now understand that I had it all along, no matter what I did.
There is so much I don't know about him, about his past, his pains and successes. And there is so much of me he has never seen, but I know he wishes he could.
Our birthdays are a mere two days apart, yet we have never to my memory celebrated them together. This year, and every year hereafter, I will celebrate my Dad. The man to whom I owe my brown eyes. The man to whom I owe my sick sense of humor. I love you Daddy. Happy Birthday!
He raised me to truly believe that all men are pigs, and that he and I were the only intelligent sane people on the planet.
He was into The Muppets, Captain Crunch, Beast Master, GI Joe, and McDonalds until I was maybe 12 or 13.
I have pictures of him jousting in full chain mail.
He is a scientist, a biologist/zoologist, but he REALLY wants to be an exobiologist...when he grows up. Meaning, he wants to study alien life forms...
He doesn't eat eggs because it is a "single cell" and that skeeves him out.
He doesn't eat pork either, but he isn't jewish.
He always made sure he knew EXACTLY what I wanted for Christmas or birthdays, and he never made fun of me when I wanted something weird or out of character.
He never said an unkind word about my mother, and constantly praised her to me for the job she was doing.
When I got a little older, he took me to dinner with my boyfriend(s) and was always kind and courteous, treating us both like adults even though we were merely children.
When I told him I was getting married, he insisted on paying for the wedding and was truly generous at every step.
When I am with him, I am nervous and unsure, (an odd state for me!) reverting back to my childhood role of Daddy's little girl. Much I have done in life was done with the greater motivation of earning his approval. I now understand that I had it all along, no matter what I did.
There is so much I don't know about him, about his past, his pains and successes. And there is so much of me he has never seen, but I know he wishes he could.
Our birthdays are a mere two days apart, yet we have never to my memory celebrated them together. This year, and every year hereafter, I will celebrate my Dad. The man to whom I owe my brown eyes. The man to whom I owe my sick sense of humor. I love you Daddy. Happy Birthday!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
What do I want?
I am faced with that dreaded of all days, that annual unholy-of-unholies that has me feeling trapped, sick, scared, and depressed, and forces me to contemplate the true meaning of life and sacrifice:
Yes, my birthday is nigh.
I will be twentysmufflmfnmph. A goodly number, close enough to thirty to be taken seriously, far enough from it to be taken at all. Not that I view thirty in and of itself as an ancient age, I just have to think of everything in terms of my marketability. And an aging thirty-something singer/actress/go-go dancer is far less sellable than a fresh twenty-something, unfortunately. If I already had anything of note to my credits, age would be far less important. But alas, alack, anon, I have none.
Thus, the annual celebration of the unlikely completion of yet another year in my crazy life has me, as usual, contemplating the past, analyzing the present, and agonizing about the future. Have I done everything I SHOULD have? Am I doing every thing I CAN? Will I get to everything I WANT to do?
And then, that pesky question that haunts us all pops up to display its ugly head like a plastic gopher at Chuckee Cheese's, mocking me with my inability to bonk it soundly with my padded club: What DO I want?
The truth is, I don't want what I seem to be offered in terms of musical opportunities: church gigs and chorister opportunities abound. Too bad I abhor choral music in all its secular and sacred forms. The occasional small/medium jazz gig is making an ever more regular appearance in my booking schedule, and I enjoy those shows, especially the paycheck that accompanies them, which is typically higher than the average Church gig compensation.
So I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want...
Whoops. Didn't mean to slip into an ode to the Spice Hos...
I miss rehearsal. I miss 4 grueling hours in character shoes getting blisters and bashing the director in the wings. I miss the vulnerable feeling of stepping onto an empty stage, gazing into the dark theater, unable to see the eyes that are loving you, hating you, judging you, cheering you on. I miss that floating surreal feeling after the curtain has fallen and you are amazed that you are already on the other side of opening night. I miss the moments that have directors pulling their hair out. I miss being dead tired after a long rehearsal and still finding the mental energy to hear and integrate production notes the night before a show goes up. I miss the theater and all its ugly beautiful glory.
Yes, my birthday is nigh.
I will be twentysmufflmfnmph. A goodly number, close enough to thirty to be taken seriously, far enough from it to be taken at all. Not that I view thirty in and of itself as an ancient age, I just have to think of everything in terms of my marketability. And an aging thirty-something singer/actress/go-go dancer is far less sellable than a fresh twenty-something, unfortunately. If I already had anything of note to my credits, age would be far less important. But alas, alack, anon, I have none.
Thus, the annual celebration of the unlikely completion of yet another year in my crazy life has me, as usual, contemplating the past, analyzing the present, and agonizing about the future. Have I done everything I SHOULD have? Am I doing every thing I CAN? Will I get to everything I WANT to do?
And then, that pesky question that haunts us all pops up to display its ugly head like a plastic gopher at Chuckee Cheese's, mocking me with my inability to bonk it soundly with my padded club: What DO I want?
The truth is, I don't want what I seem to be offered in terms of musical opportunities: church gigs and chorister opportunities abound. Too bad I abhor choral music in all its secular and sacred forms. The occasional small/medium jazz gig is making an ever more regular appearance in my booking schedule, and I enjoy those shows, especially the paycheck that accompanies them, which is typically higher than the average Church gig compensation.
So I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want...
Whoops. Didn't mean to slip into an ode to the Spice Hos...
I miss rehearsal. I miss 4 grueling hours in character shoes getting blisters and bashing the director in the wings. I miss the vulnerable feeling of stepping onto an empty stage, gazing into the dark theater, unable to see the eyes that are loving you, hating you, judging you, cheering you on. I miss that floating surreal feeling after the curtain has fallen and you are amazed that you are already on the other side of opening night. I miss the moments that have directors pulling their hair out. I miss being dead tired after a long rehearsal and still finding the mental energy to hear and integrate production notes the night before a show goes up. I miss the theater and all its ugly beautiful glory.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Humor Blogs
So I have been reading humor blogs A LOT lately. It has become something of an addiction. Just take a look over to your right (my left) and check out 15minutelunch, Matress Police, Mighty Dykerson, Schitz and Giggles, and Throwing Poo. They are my current favorites. These people leave me in stitches.
Although I started this blog as a way for distant family and friends to keep track of my goings on, I find myself leaning towards humor in my posts...and editing it out because I am not technically writing a "humor blog."
As usual I am over thinking the situation Why can't I have a sense of humor about my escapades? Looking back on my few posts, there is plenty to laugh about, even without my TRYING to be funny. (*sigh*) Luckily I abandoned the career path that required me to be serious about my life (opera) and have embraced a lighter side of the music and arts world (not less important, or less difficult or less artful, just less SERIOUS in terms of bedtimes and smoky bars...like there are any smoky bars left in the US...but that is another blog altogether.)
Thus, I am embracing My Inner Sarcasm and Dry Humor Gene (Thank you Daddy!) and accepting the fact that I lead a comical existence.
And now...
...Thank you, thank you...but seriously...
...take my husband....PLEASE! (rimshot)
(chirp chirp)
...Djyou hear about the one...
(chirp, cough, uncomfortable silence)
OK, so it will take some practice...damn showbiz is tough.
Although I started this blog as a way for distant family and friends to keep track of my goings on, I find myself leaning towards humor in my posts...and editing it out because I am not technically writing a "humor blog."
As usual I am over thinking the situation Why can't I have a sense of humor about my escapades? Looking back on my few posts, there is plenty to laugh about, even without my TRYING to be funny. (*sigh*) Luckily I abandoned the career path that required me to be serious about my life (opera) and have embraced a lighter side of the music and arts world (not less important, or less difficult or less artful, just less SERIOUS in terms of bedtimes and smoky bars...like there are any smoky bars left in the US...but that is another blog altogether.)
Thus, I am embracing My Inner Sarcasm and Dry Humor Gene (Thank you Daddy!) and accepting the fact that I lead a comical existence.
And now...
...Thank you, thank you...but seriously...
...take my husband....PLEASE! (rimshot)
(chirp chirp)
...Djyou hear about the one...
(chirp, cough, uncomfortable silence)
OK, so it will take some practice...damn showbiz is tough.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Color/Personality Quiz
No idea how this works, but man it nailed me!
 | Cortney took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Strives for a life rich in activity and experience..."
|
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Jam Session Fun and Plinko...
Ok, so there is NOTHING about Plinko in this blog, I just wanted to mess with the search engines....bwa ha ha ha!
I had the great pleasure of attending the Tuesday night Jam at King Biscuit this week. It was truly a joy! A laid back bar with a spacious patio, a room full of musicians and artsy types, a friendly bartender named Rich, and my first experience with Jameson Whiskey on the rocks, (yum!) all equals a great time. Add to that getting to make music with some awesome old friends, and meeting some awesome new friends, plus a bar full of enthusiastic music lovers an patrons, and you have a recipe for hooking me like a sad working girl on smack. I will definitely be a regular there!
I was thrilled that so many singers were out that night. I had the HONOR of hearing the FABULOUS Sheri Lavo tell us how it is to have Georgia on [her] mind. Apparently it is gut-wrenchingly intense and heartfelt. That woman is truly a treasure and a talent. More people in this town need to hear her; she is fantastic!
The owner of the joint, Roger, is a lovely man; he is full of heart and good will and this comes through in his business. His employees are all happy and enjoying themselves, which in turn leads to the patrons enjoying themselves, and keeps them coming back week after week. The key to successful business practices? Chill OUT!
I also made an all too brief appearance at Legends last night. Something came up and I couldn't stay long, but the room has promise if we could get the word out! I look forward to going back next week when Paul co-hosts the jam!
The recording session is set for this Friday, provided we can find a bass player! (hint hint everyone!) I am very excited about the endeavor. It should be a lot of fun, provided we keep the atmosphere light and undemanding. We can work and be efficient, without being stuffy and overly business-like. (that means YOU, Devin!) A friend (a good friend? maybe soon...) is generously allowing us to use his space and equipment. I owe him some MAJOR favors for this! Let's see, I make a mean scrambled egg sandwich...somehow it doesn't seem enough...
I had the great pleasure of attending the Tuesday night Jam at King Biscuit this week. It was truly a joy! A laid back bar with a spacious patio, a room full of musicians and artsy types, a friendly bartender named Rich, and my first experience with Jameson Whiskey on the rocks, (yum!) all equals a great time. Add to that getting to make music with some awesome old friends, and meeting some awesome new friends, plus a bar full of enthusiastic music lovers an patrons, and you have a recipe for hooking me like a sad working girl on smack. I will definitely be a regular there!
I was thrilled that so many singers were out that night. I had the HONOR of hearing the FABULOUS Sheri Lavo tell us how it is to have Georgia on [her] mind. Apparently it is gut-wrenchingly intense and heartfelt. That woman is truly a treasure and a talent. More people in this town need to hear her; she is fantastic!
The owner of the joint, Roger, is a lovely man; he is full of heart and good will and this comes through in his business. His employees are all happy and enjoying themselves, which in turn leads to the patrons enjoying themselves, and keeps them coming back week after week. The key to successful business practices? Chill OUT!
I also made an all too brief appearance at Legends last night. Something came up and I couldn't stay long, but the room has promise if we could get the word out! I look forward to going back next week when Paul co-hosts the jam!
The recording session is set for this Friday, provided we can find a bass player! (hint hint everyone!) I am very excited about the endeavor. It should be a lot of fun, provided we keep the atmosphere light and undemanding. We can work and be efficient, without being stuffy and overly business-like. (that means YOU, Devin!) A friend (a good friend? maybe soon...) is generously allowing us to use his space and equipment. I owe him some MAJOR favors for this! Let's see, I make a mean scrambled egg sandwich...somehow it doesn't seem enough...
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