I had the wonderful opportunity today to read Shakespeare's "Hamlet" aloud with about 15 other thespians.
It was incredible.
We (and a handful of others) want to organize a new theatre group in our community. Dedicated purely to performing bare bones, thought-provoking, depressing-ending plays, we are hoping to change the face of theatre in our community. No Oklahoma! or Annie for us.
Instead, we'll delve into the biggies. O'Neill. Ibsen. Stuff that kids are forced to read in college but which they normally cannot hope to understand until they have more life experiences... or see it performed well by actors who care about the words more than they care about set designs, costumes, or, dare I say it, box office figures.
We want to bring raw, scarred, imperfectly perfect theatre alive.
Will our plan work? We have no clue.
But it doesn't matter.
We're not beautiful. We're not model-material. But we're dang good actors. And we just want to present some plays that few people have the opportunity to see without heading to a big city or renting a DVD.
Wish our band of mavericks good fortune as we set off on this rocky, wild journey.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
An Open Letter to Parents of Young Children
Dear Parents of Very Young Kids:
I will keep this note short and sweet, attempting to avoid too much emotion. However, I feel it's necessary to make this plea:
I beg of you,
STOP FEEDING YOUR CHILDREN CRAP!
As the Mommy of an almost-four-year-old, it's troubling to see his playmates waddling around, filled to the brim with sugar, fat, and goodness knows what other garbage. Cakes, chips, and candy should be treats, not staples. Sure, they taste great. But they are ideally meant to be consumed in extreme moderation.
(NOTE: If you can't stop yourself from eating them, don't have them around. I haven't ingested chocolate since January 1996 because I couldn't control myself and would wolf down a pound of M&Ms like it was my last meal.)
And please don't fall back on "s/he has big bones", "everybody in our family has weight issues," or "I'm sure it's a medical problem though the doctors haven't discovered the problem yet." In 99% of cases, not one of those excuses holds water as well as a rusted colander would.
Don't just do this for me. Do this for them. Because other kids are going to be mean.
I know.
I was a chubbette from about age seven until age thirteen. It was horrible. It was embarrassing. And two decades later, taunt starters such as, "Look at fatty..." and "You're fatter than..." still haunt me.
But enough of me. Let's talk about you and your family. After all, it's summertime in the northern hemisphere! So go out and get some exercise.
Munch on apples, carrots, oranges... produce is so incredibly delicious, especially when shared with family!
Make healthy meals together, avoid the fast food windows, and please, oh, please, think twice before allowing TV watching to become a time of mindless noshing.
That is all.
Healthily yours,
The Quoibler
I will keep this note short and sweet, attempting to avoid too much emotion. However, I feel it's necessary to make this plea:
I beg of you,
STOP FEEDING YOUR CHILDREN CRAP!
As the Mommy of an almost-four-year-old, it's troubling to see his playmates waddling around, filled to the brim with sugar, fat, and goodness knows what other garbage. Cakes, chips, and candy should be treats, not staples. Sure, they taste great. But they are ideally meant to be consumed in extreme moderation.
(NOTE: If you can't stop yourself from eating them, don't have them around. I haven't ingested chocolate since January 1996 because I couldn't control myself and would wolf down a pound of M&Ms like it was my last meal.)
And please don't fall back on "s/he has big bones", "everybody in our family has weight issues," or "I'm sure it's a medical problem though the doctors haven't discovered the problem yet." In 99% of cases, not one of those excuses holds water as well as a rusted colander would.
Don't just do this for me. Do this for them. Because other kids are going to be mean.
I know.
I was a chubbette from about age seven until age thirteen. It was horrible. It was embarrassing. And two decades later, taunt starters such as, "Look at fatty..." and "You're fatter than..." still haunt me.
But enough of me. Let's talk about you and your family. After all, it's summertime in the northern hemisphere! So go out and get some exercise.
Munch on apples, carrots, oranges... produce is so incredibly delicious, especially when shared with family!
Make healthy meals together, avoid the fast food windows, and please, oh, please, think twice before allowing TV watching to become a time of mindless noshing.
That is all.
Healthily yours,
The Quoibler
Monday, June 18, 2007
Friend... or Foe?
Alli = Anal Leakage.
Is being thin really worth experiencing panties "au jus"? Does the embarrassment of uncontrollable bowels pale in comparison to being just a few pounds lighter?
I'm not usually a conspiracy theorist, but I'm starting to wonder if the makers of Alli and Depends Undergarments are in cahoots.
Until this blows over, I'm only riding in elevators alone. Goodness knows what an unexpected "blast" could do in such a cramped environment.
Is being thin really worth experiencing panties "au jus"? Does the embarrassment of uncontrollable bowels pale in comparison to being just a few pounds lighter?
I'm not usually a conspiracy theorist, but I'm starting to wonder if the makers of Alli and Depends Undergarments are in cahoots.
Until this blows over, I'm only riding in elevators alone. Goodness knows what an unexpected "blast" could do in such a cramped environment.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Blood and Gore
At the gym today, I was mulling over some people I know who seem to take great pleasure in regaling me with other individuals' pain and distress.
Specifically, I'm speaking of those folks who cannot simply tell me, "So-and-so passed away," but feel the need to tell me (in gory detail) about how his nose bled right after he kicked the bucket or he fouled himself and the smell permeated the air or his face was contorted in agony and scared even the paramedics. Enough already! I get the picture!
And I am not aiming this at my dear friends with whom sharing some horrific details might be acceptable in an "I have to talk with someone about this" way. I'm speaking about those people I barely know who feel compelled to be... well... unnecessarily detailed about gory subject matters.
What causes this need to pick over others' misery or to describe the ugliness of a moment? Is it an avoidance of one's own problems? Or could it be something else, something deeper, something disturbing that's buried in our human psyche?
I wonder.
Specifically, I'm speaking of those folks who cannot simply tell me, "So-and-so passed away," but feel the need to tell me (in gory detail) about how his nose bled right after he kicked the bucket or he fouled himself and the smell permeated the air or his face was contorted in agony and scared even the paramedics. Enough already! I get the picture!
And I am not aiming this at my dear friends with whom sharing some horrific details might be acceptable in an "I have to talk with someone about this" way. I'm speaking about those people I barely know who feel compelled to be... well... unnecessarily detailed about gory subject matters.
What causes this need to pick over others' misery or to describe the ugliness of a moment? Is it an avoidance of one's own problems? Or could it be something else, something deeper, something disturbing that's buried in our human psyche?
I wonder.
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