I'm actually quite impressed with myself. I would say that this is the longest I've ever kept up with a blog. Even when I think I have nothing to tell you I still manage to come up with something. However, this week is NOT one of those weeks. This week I know exactly what I want to tell you about. I want to talk about The Final Battle.
The Final Battle is a full length musical about the last 200 pages of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by JK Rowling. I wrote it, along with my friend Lena Gabrielle, and the show was performed at the Infinitus Harry Potter conference in Orlando Florida last July. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life, and I get to do it all over again.
This year The Final Battle will be performed in Orlando at LeakyCon2011, and I couldn't be more excited. We've kept a lot of the same cast, crew, and orchestra, and I just today finished adding all the new people to our group. Rehearsals have begun and set design is moving and I'm overall just getting incredibly excited to work on all of this again. It's true that it's a TON of work, and at some points I'm sure I'll be seriously stressed out, but it will be worth it. The people that I get a chance to work with are all incredibly talented and their willingness to go on this crazy journey with me still amazes me sometimes. After all, it isn't everyday that someone asks you to create a musical almost exclusively through Skype and two days of in person rehearsals.
Every single time I log into gmail or onto Skype for rehearsals I'm reminded how much I love the people that are involved in this show. It's so wonderful to just get together and chat about nothing, and seeing them at rehearsal in Orlando last year was like arriving at a room full of your best friends. A project like this forces you to become close to people and it's a testament to the strength of our group that all that stress produced close friendships rather than arguments or rivalries. I was sad to leave them all after Infinitus, and even sadder to have some of them unable to return for LeakyCon, but I'm thrilled to be able to work with a lot of them again.
Just like last year, I expect this journey to be anything but easy. However, despite all the hardships I also expect it to be fun, exciting, exhilarating, uplifting, and full of lasting friendships. Everyone involved is wonderful and I absolutely love them all!
Till I next fail at failure.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
According to My Planner It's Still Week 6
Of course my planner is notorious for simply conforming to my needs and ignoring the truth of reality, but we can all just pretend that isn't true. Technically I never laid out what days my weeks began and ended, so this is still a week 6 post, that's completely allowed.
This week I want to talk about school, well about one class specifically. Honestly, if I was just talking about school this blog would become a long series of complaints about classes I'd rather not be in and work I'd rather not do, but that's a subject for another time. This post is all about actor's voice.
I know what you're thinking. What is an econ major doing in a class called actor's voice? The answer is, she's having a complete blast! Do you remember all the pretend games you used to play as child? Do you remember being a pirate? A knight? A princess? Now imagine you have a chance to play like that with a group of college kids. Welcome to actor's voice.
I'm not saying that the class is all about playing around, because it's really active and kicks my butt twice a week, but is SO much fun. We walk on all fours, we log roll, we crab walk, we have wheelbarrow races, and we bounce each other like basketballs. All of this is really hard work and I always end up really sore, but it's also a complete blast.
Then we turn on music and pretend to catch balls of energy and let the game evolve from there. We build castles, we have zombie apocalypses, people die and are brought back to life, we travel from one end of the room to the other avoiding the lava on the floor. Every single day we tell a story without words and build things and create things without talking to each other. We just feed off each others energy and see what happens, and it's magical. There really is no other way to describe it. What happens when you trust everyone else to work with you and build a story is nothing but magical and I'm always sad to leave that class.
This week we did our first round of animal etudes, which basically involves becoming an animal and working through a scene with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Scenes ranged from cats using the litter box to deer crossing the road to a jaguar catching a water buffalo. I was a snake in a cage who was fed a mouse. It's amazing what can happen when you decide to just "be" an animal rather than acting like one. Things become instantly recognizable, and so much more entertaining. I can't wait until next week's finals. I'm planning to be an owl.
Basically I've decided that this isn't a feeling I ever want to lose. Anyone want to get together and play pretend with me?
Until I next fail at failure.
This week I want to talk about school, well about one class specifically. Honestly, if I was just talking about school this blog would become a long series of complaints about classes I'd rather not be in and work I'd rather not do, but that's a subject for another time. This post is all about actor's voice.
I know what you're thinking. What is an econ major doing in a class called actor's voice? The answer is, she's having a complete blast! Do you remember all the pretend games you used to play as child? Do you remember being a pirate? A knight? A princess? Now imagine you have a chance to play like that with a group of college kids. Welcome to actor's voice.
I'm not saying that the class is all about playing around, because it's really active and kicks my butt twice a week, but is SO much fun. We walk on all fours, we log roll, we crab walk, we have wheelbarrow races, and we bounce each other like basketballs. All of this is really hard work and I always end up really sore, but it's also a complete blast.
Then we turn on music and pretend to catch balls of energy and let the game evolve from there. We build castles, we have zombie apocalypses, people die and are brought back to life, we travel from one end of the room to the other avoiding the lava on the floor. Every single day we tell a story without words and build things and create things without talking to each other. We just feed off each others energy and see what happens, and it's magical. There really is no other way to describe it. What happens when you trust everyone else to work with you and build a story is nothing but magical and I'm always sad to leave that class.
This week we did our first round of animal etudes, which basically involves becoming an animal and working through a scene with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Scenes ranged from cats using the litter box to deer crossing the road to a jaguar catching a water buffalo. I was a snake in a cage who was fed a mouse. It's amazing what can happen when you decide to just "be" an animal rather than acting like one. Things become instantly recognizable, and so much more entertaining. I can't wait until next week's finals. I'm planning to be an owl.
Basically I've decided that this isn't a feeling I ever want to lose. Anyone want to get together and play pretend with me?
Until I next fail at failure.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Nothing Matters More Than The Cat
I had a lot of ideas rolling around in my head for this weeks post, but as of this morning none of them seem to matter. That's because playing pretend for credit, writing about wands for a grade, and making house bracelets all pale in comparison to the fact that at 10am this morning I went with my family to the local vet and put my cat Curious to sleep.
I got Curious for my sixth birthday and he has been my cat, and my best friend, for almost 17 years. I remember clearly the day I went with my mom to the animal shelter to pick him out. There were two white kittens to choose from, one male and one female. I distinctly remember wanting the female kitten before we arrived, but lots of people wanted the female and the male kitten had such an adorable kink in his tail. I was smitten. We paid $22 for that tiny white ball of fur, of which $12 was returned to my parents when they neutered him a few days later.
We packed him into a carrier and headed for home, and we only made it halfway when I started spoiling him. It started small. He was crying because he hated the carrier, so I opened it up and let him out. After all, he was my cat and I wanted to play with him. It didn't matter to me that we were driving and he was small enough to crawl under the seats of the car and that my mother was going to get upset and we'd have to spend a lot of time coaxing him back into the carrier to get him inside; I just wanted him to be happy.
The instant we arrived inside our house I let him loose, and away he went. He ran through every room and outside in our fenced in yard. He was excited to explore everything and I was excited to follow him around and watch him be adorable. I watched as he attacked bedspreads and chased a bird in the yard and batted at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be infinitely curious, and I remember saying "You're really curious." Within about an hour that was not only a description of the way my kitten acted but also his name.
Curious went through a lot as a young kitten. He had to deal with an overbearing older cat who didn't like to share her food or her water or her scratching post of her humans. He was chased by and excited 3-year-old (my brother) who thought that the kink in his tail was a great handle. He was carried around and forced to spend time playing "house" with a young girl who shall remain nameless.* Then, when he'd been with us for less than a year, he was packed into a carrier and moved from California to Iowa.
Living in Iowa brought a lot of changes for Curious. Treca (the older cat) passed away and suddenly he went from second fiddle to king of the house. He wasn't allowed outside anymore, and he had to be declawed, but he had free reign of the house. He soon took possession of all the best seats in the house and carved out a great spot under the table, right next to my chair, where he could easily be given table scraps. He spent his nights sleeping with me or my parents and most of his days sleeping in a sunny spot on the furniture. He became an excellent mouser and would often drop his kills by my bed so when I awoke in the morning I would know what a good hunter he was. Curious even tried catching the various rats and hamsters I kept as pets over the years. He never managed to catch any of them, although he did manage to knock one of my hamsters down the stairs in its exercise ball.
As Curious grew he gained a few nicknames. Annoying was added to his name because of his tendency to whine to be pet and whine to be fed and whine to eat human food and whine because he just felt like it. My brother added Road Runner to the list because Curious had a way of tearing through the house like a rocket. Ankle Biter was my mom's contribution because she was always up earliest in the morning and Curious would often nip at her ankles to make sure she knew she should hurry up and feed him. He was a family cat. That is until his litter needed cleaning, at which point he became exclusively my cat.
As I started getting older things changed. I went off to college and only saw Curious every few weeks. He'd still sleep in my bed sometimes, but more and more he spent his time with my parents or my brother. I would celebrate the moments at school when I'd pull our clothes covered in white cat hair, because it would remind me of him.** He stomach got sensitive and suddenly he was also my cat when he threw up. We started giving him special food and more and more often gave into his demands for part of our dinner, well at least I did.
Then this November things started to change. Curious stopped eating for days, and while before I'd always been able to convince him to eat even when my parents couldn't, this time was different. Curious lost all the hair on half his face. He spent most of his time lying in front of the heater vent in the kitchen or sleeping with me or my parents at night. I dug a grave, prepared for him to die, but then he didn't. In fact he made a huge turn around and by New Years most of the hair had grown back and he was eating and running up and down the stairs. I went back to school thinking he might live until I moved to Florida.
A few weeks into school my parents called to say that Curious had gotten much worse. His face had swollen up, he had trouble breathing, and the only thing they could get him to eat was canned tuna. They got antibiotics from our local vet, but they didn't seem to make any difference. My mom took Curious to a specialist and after running a few tests they determined that Curious had cancer and it was a tumor that was growing inside of his nose. At that point my mom thought they might have to put him down without me, but he came home from the vet and ate a whole bowl of food. Things seemed to be at an equilibrium until this Wednesday, when my dad called to say that Curious had stopped eating and was having trouble walking and did I want them to put him down. I said that I wanted to be there, and so they waited until I could come home this weekend.
When I arrived home yesterday Curious was almost unrecognizable as my loving energetic playful best friend. The tumor was so big that it had almost swollen one of his eyes shut. He'd always been a big cat, and a diet of table scraps had meant he had some meat on his bones, but not anymore. I could see his skeleton when he walked and when I pet him he was nothing but skin and bone. It was hard for me to look at him sometimes, it just made me so sad. Petting him as he passed at the vets and burying him was one of the saddest things I've ever had to do, but it wasn't nearly as sad as listening to his labored breathing and watching him weave back and forth as he walked. I know that letting him go was the right thing to do. I'll miss him terribly.
RIP Curious Annoying Road Runner Ankle Biter Vance. I'll always love you. <3
*It's me. I hope you got that.
**While back home my parents would lament my decision to get a white cat that sheds CONSTANTLY
I got Curious for my sixth birthday and he has been my cat, and my best friend, for almost 17 years. I remember clearly the day I went with my mom to the animal shelter to pick him out. There were two white kittens to choose from, one male and one female. I distinctly remember wanting the female kitten before we arrived, but lots of people wanted the female and the male kitten had such an adorable kink in his tail. I was smitten. We paid $22 for that tiny white ball of fur, of which $12 was returned to my parents when they neutered him a few days later.
We packed him into a carrier and headed for home, and we only made it halfway when I started spoiling him. It started small. He was crying because he hated the carrier, so I opened it up and let him out. After all, he was my cat and I wanted to play with him. It didn't matter to me that we were driving and he was small enough to crawl under the seats of the car and that my mother was going to get upset and we'd have to spend a lot of time coaxing him back into the carrier to get him inside; I just wanted him to be happy.
The instant we arrived inside our house I let him loose, and away he went. He ran through every room and outside in our fenced in yard. He was excited to explore everything and I was excited to follow him around and watch him be adorable. I watched as he attacked bedspreads and chased a bird in the yard and batted at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be infinitely curious, and I remember saying "You're really curious." Within about an hour that was not only a description of the way my kitten acted but also his name.
Curious went through a lot as a young kitten. He had to deal with an overbearing older cat who didn't like to share her food or her water or her scratching post of her humans. He was chased by and excited 3-year-old (my brother) who thought that the kink in his tail was a great handle. He was carried around and forced to spend time playing "house" with a young girl who shall remain nameless.* Then, when he'd been with us for less than a year, he was packed into a carrier and moved from California to Iowa.
Living in Iowa brought a lot of changes for Curious. Treca (the older cat) passed away and suddenly he went from second fiddle to king of the house. He wasn't allowed outside anymore, and he had to be declawed, but he had free reign of the house. He soon took possession of all the best seats in the house and carved out a great spot under the table, right next to my chair, where he could easily be given table scraps. He spent his nights sleeping with me or my parents and most of his days sleeping in a sunny spot on the furniture. He became an excellent mouser and would often drop his kills by my bed so when I awoke in the morning I would know what a good hunter he was. Curious even tried catching the various rats and hamsters I kept as pets over the years. He never managed to catch any of them, although he did manage to knock one of my hamsters down the stairs in its exercise ball.
As Curious grew he gained a few nicknames. Annoying was added to his name because of his tendency to whine to be pet and whine to be fed and whine to eat human food and whine because he just felt like it. My brother added Road Runner to the list because Curious had a way of tearing through the house like a rocket. Ankle Biter was my mom's contribution because she was always up earliest in the morning and Curious would often nip at her ankles to make sure she knew she should hurry up and feed him. He was a family cat. That is until his litter needed cleaning, at which point he became exclusively my cat.
As I started getting older things changed. I went off to college and only saw Curious every few weeks. He'd still sleep in my bed sometimes, but more and more he spent his time with my parents or my brother. I would celebrate the moments at school when I'd pull our clothes covered in white cat hair, because it would remind me of him.** He stomach got sensitive and suddenly he was also my cat when he threw up. We started giving him special food and more and more often gave into his demands for part of our dinner, well at least I did.
Then this November things started to change. Curious stopped eating for days, and while before I'd always been able to convince him to eat even when my parents couldn't, this time was different. Curious lost all the hair on half his face. He spent most of his time lying in front of the heater vent in the kitchen or sleeping with me or my parents at night. I dug a grave, prepared for him to die, but then he didn't. In fact he made a huge turn around and by New Years most of the hair had grown back and he was eating and running up and down the stairs. I went back to school thinking he might live until I moved to Florida.
A few weeks into school my parents called to say that Curious had gotten much worse. His face had swollen up, he had trouble breathing, and the only thing they could get him to eat was canned tuna. They got antibiotics from our local vet, but they didn't seem to make any difference. My mom took Curious to a specialist and after running a few tests they determined that Curious had cancer and it was a tumor that was growing inside of his nose. At that point my mom thought they might have to put him down without me, but he came home from the vet and ate a whole bowl of food. Things seemed to be at an equilibrium until this Wednesday, when my dad called to say that Curious had stopped eating and was having trouble walking and did I want them to put him down. I said that I wanted to be there, and so they waited until I could come home this weekend.
When I arrived home yesterday Curious was almost unrecognizable as my loving energetic playful best friend. The tumor was so big that it had almost swollen one of his eyes shut. He'd always been a big cat, and a diet of table scraps had meant he had some meat on his bones, but not anymore. I could see his skeleton when he walked and when I pet him he was nothing but skin and bone. It was hard for me to look at him sometimes, it just made me so sad. Petting him as he passed at the vets and burying him was one of the saddest things I've ever had to do, but it wasn't nearly as sad as listening to his labored breathing and watching him weave back and forth as he walked. I know that letting him go was the right thing to do. I'll miss him terribly.
RIP Curious Annoying Road Runner Ankle Biter Vance. I'll always love you. <3
*It's me. I hope you got that.
**While back home my parents would lament my decision to get a white cat that sheds CONSTANTLY
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Suddenly It's Week Four
It seems to me that this part of my goal is much more difficult for me than my vlog every week goal. I'm not sure why that is. I'm a writer, at least I consider myself one, and I write everyday. Yet, somehow, this blog gets left till the last minute and even in that last minute I struggle to figure out what I want to post. Is this because my blogs don't have a theme like my vlogs do? That's possible, but I think it's more likely that I just find my life to be too boring to be worth recounting publicly.
I wake up in the morning NOT feeling like P Diddy...at least that's what I assume. Honestly, I suppose I have no idea how P Diddy feels in the morning, so it's possible that I DO wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy. I might have to look into that. Regardless of how like or unlike P Diddy I feel the next step in my day usually involves checking my email, Facebook, YouTube, and, if I got up extra early, watching a show on Hulu. I follow this morning routine of brain rot with classes. What classes I attend vary depending on the day, but my routine of sitting, listening, talking, and occasionally ignoring the professor to check tumblr on my ipod, is pretty universal. Once I've been released from endless lectures I return to my dorm room where I generally spend the next one to two hours communing with the internet. Occasionally I'll do homework after that, but usually I pretend I don't have any and instead watch Hulu, read a book, or write a vlog. Then I go to dinner and after returning I scramble madly to complete the work that's due the next day. Once I feel I've made sufficient homework progress I crawl into bed and read until I fall asleep. Rinse. Repeat.
Can you understand why I feel that my days aren't terribly interesting? I don't go on daily epic adventures that involve meeting famous people and winning exciting prizes. I don't even go on weekly epic adventures. I might be able to squeeze out a monthly adventure if I'm lucky. Yet, I made a promise to blog every WEEK. This means that I have to come up with something exciting or intelligent or entertaining to write about every single week. I just don't live on the edge enough for this. Give me a moment to think back through my week and see if I can discover some small tidbit of excitement to tide you over until you can read a gripping blog by one of the other people that you follow.
After a lot of thought (not that you can tell because you get to read this paragraph seconds after the last one), the one thing that stands out is the art class I took. Today my brother, Kellen, and I decided to take a class on making chain maille bracelets, and it was actually really neat. The pattern we were making was called byzantine, which as far as I can tell has nothing to do with the Byzantine Empire. Of course I know nothing about the Byzantine Empire besides its name so I might not be the most reliable source. It was a simple braid that turned out quite beautifully. I got the hang of it quite quickly and managed to finish with enough extra time to make some earrings to go with my bracelet. I plan to give the set since I don't often wear bracelets and I don't have pierced ears. I also bought an extra set of rings so that I can make another bracelet and I think that I'm going to be quite interested in doing this for awhile. It's really simple and I find craft work like this to be quite relaxing.
There you have it. One week in the thrilling life of Mallory Vance. Maybe next week will yield something of greater excitement. Either that or I'll go back to posting some of the fiction I've been writing for classes and for 750words.com.
Till I next fail at failure.
I wake up in the morning NOT feeling like P Diddy...at least that's what I assume. Honestly, I suppose I have no idea how P Diddy feels in the morning, so it's possible that I DO wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy. I might have to look into that. Regardless of how like or unlike P Diddy I feel the next step in my day usually involves checking my email, Facebook, YouTube, and, if I got up extra early, watching a show on Hulu. I follow this morning routine of brain rot with classes. What classes I attend vary depending on the day, but my routine of sitting, listening, talking, and occasionally ignoring the professor to check tumblr on my ipod, is pretty universal. Once I've been released from endless lectures I return to my dorm room where I generally spend the next one to two hours communing with the internet. Occasionally I'll do homework after that, but usually I pretend I don't have any and instead watch Hulu, read a book, or write a vlog. Then I go to dinner and after returning I scramble madly to complete the work that's due the next day. Once I feel I've made sufficient homework progress I crawl into bed and read until I fall asleep. Rinse. Repeat.
Can you understand why I feel that my days aren't terribly interesting? I don't go on daily epic adventures that involve meeting famous people and winning exciting prizes. I don't even go on weekly epic adventures. I might be able to squeeze out a monthly adventure if I'm lucky. Yet, I made a promise to blog every WEEK. This means that I have to come up with something exciting or intelligent or entertaining to write about every single week. I just don't live on the edge enough for this. Give me a moment to think back through my week and see if I can discover some small tidbit of excitement to tide you over until you can read a gripping blog by one of the other people that you follow.
After a lot of thought (not that you can tell because you get to read this paragraph seconds after the last one), the one thing that stands out is the art class I took. Today my brother, Kellen, and I decided to take a class on making chain maille bracelets, and it was actually really neat. The pattern we were making was called byzantine, which as far as I can tell has nothing to do with the Byzantine Empire. Of course I know nothing about the Byzantine Empire besides its name so I might not be the most reliable source. It was a simple braid that turned out quite beautifully. I got the hang of it quite quickly and managed to finish with enough extra time to make some earrings to go with my bracelet. I plan to give the set since I don't often wear bracelets and I don't have pierced ears. I also bought an extra set of rings so that I can make another bracelet and I think that I'm going to be quite interested in doing this for awhile. It's really simple and I find craft work like this to be quite relaxing.
There you have it. One week in the thrilling life of Mallory Vance. Maybe next week will yield something of greater excitement. Either that or I'll go back to posting some of the fiction I've been writing for classes and for 750words.com.
Till I next fail at failure.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Week Three is Almost Over!
I would be lying if I said I forgot that I needed to blog this week, because "BLOG" has been staring accusingly at me from my planner all week long. Yet even the use of bold black pen and all capital letters couldn't seem to make me get on the computer and actually type something out to my lovely invisible readers. Honestly, since I know that barely anyone reads this you figure that it wouldn't be that hard to write something, but it is. I have no idea what YOU want, nonexistent reader. I know nothing about you. Do you like the same things I like? Are you interested in the fact that I'm watching Buffy and I spend a large part of my morning watching YouTube videos? Do you even know what YouTube is? If I don't know anything about you, how can I deliver the information you'd be interested in? Invisible nonexistent readers really are the most difficult to write for.
Recently I've been throwing some fiction from my courtship with 750words.com up here for you to peruse and ignore as you see fit, but I haven't written any fiction in the last week. That leaves me with an unusual predicament. Do I make up a story right now on the spot or do I actually talk about my life? *gasp* I realize that the idea of hearing about my actual life must be terribly shocking to you, and I can't promise that you won't die of boredom, but alas I'm out of entertaining ideas, so we are forced to enter the realm of the mundane. Venture ahead if you dare, dear reader. Here have a torch to light the way. If it all gets too mundane and boring you can always light your computer on fire.
This week has been different for me, but no so different as to be terribly interesting I'm sure. Iowa State University (where I go to college and study Econ; did I mention how fascinating I am?) hosted KCACTF which are a group of letters that I rarely remember in the correct order that basically come together to mean the campus was filled with talented theater people doing what talented theater people do. Mostly, this consisted of people having screaming matches in the halls that turned out to actually be scene rehearsals (still a little embarrassed about that one) and lots and lots and lots of shows and workshops for me to attend. Since ISU was hosting I spent a fair amount of time volunteering* my time to help moderate workshops and usher at shows.
I was able to find a little bit of time to see the shows that I was interested in and attend some play writing workshops. The performances that I was able to attend were Richard III, Godspell, The Odyssey and Las Hermanas Padillas. That last one was actually a staged reading of the one act play that won last year's KCACTF competition. I loved each of the plays in their own way, but The Odyssey was probably my favorite. The simple sets and the use of bodies were really well done and it's a story that I have a great love for. Myths, legend, and fairy tales have always been of great interest to me and I enjoy having a chance to see them performed.
I also attended both the one act and ten minute play festivals, which showcase plays written by KCACTF students. Some of them I enjoyed and some of them bored me almost to tears, but all of them taught me something. I got ideas from the ones I loved and learned what to avoid from the ones I didn't. Watching them also made me realize that I wish I'd known about and entered the competition. I'm not saying that I would have won, but it would have been interesting to see how I did compared to the other contestants. Watching them all really inspired me to get back into play writing, and I hope to write a ten minute play for a competition I heard about in one of my workshops. Plus, I could use something to do in my videos in later months.
That's just a brief overview of my week. If you just imagine waking up at 6:30 each morning, going to bed around midnight each night, and cramming in volunteering, some classes, performances, and workshops each day; then you have a pretty good idea of what my week was like. If you've ever been to a Potter conference, just imagine that lasting for six days and you know exactly how I feel. Now I'm going to get some sleep.
Till I next fail at failure.
*By volunteer I mean forced to work most of the conference for no pay except a single banana. Chimps at the zoo get at least two.
Recently I've been throwing some fiction from my courtship with 750words.com up here for you to peruse and ignore as you see fit, but I haven't written any fiction in the last week. That leaves me with an unusual predicament. Do I make up a story right now on the spot or do I actually talk about my life? *gasp* I realize that the idea of hearing about my actual life must be terribly shocking to you, and I can't promise that you won't die of boredom, but alas I'm out of entertaining ideas, so we are forced to enter the realm of the mundane. Venture ahead if you dare, dear reader. Here have a torch to light the way. If it all gets too mundane and boring you can always light your computer on fire.
This week has been different for me, but no so different as to be terribly interesting I'm sure. Iowa State University (where I go to college and study Econ; did I mention how fascinating I am?) hosted KCACTF which are a group of letters that I rarely remember in the correct order that basically come together to mean the campus was filled with talented theater people doing what talented theater people do. Mostly, this consisted of people having screaming matches in the halls that turned out to actually be scene rehearsals (still a little embarrassed about that one) and lots and lots and lots of shows and workshops for me to attend. Since ISU was hosting I spent a fair amount of time volunteering* my time to help moderate workshops and usher at shows.
I was able to find a little bit of time to see the shows that I was interested in and attend some play writing workshops. The performances that I was able to attend were Richard III, Godspell, The Odyssey and Las Hermanas Padillas. That last one was actually a staged reading of the one act play that won last year's KCACTF competition. I loved each of the plays in their own way, but The Odyssey was probably my favorite. The simple sets and the use of bodies were really well done and it's a story that I have a great love for. Myths, legend, and fairy tales have always been of great interest to me and I enjoy having a chance to see them performed.
I also attended both the one act and ten minute play festivals, which showcase plays written by KCACTF students. Some of them I enjoyed and some of them bored me almost to tears, but all of them taught me something. I got ideas from the ones I loved and learned what to avoid from the ones I didn't. Watching them also made me realize that I wish I'd known about and entered the competition. I'm not saying that I would have won, but it would have been interesting to see how I did compared to the other contestants. Watching them all really inspired me to get back into play writing, and I hope to write a ten minute play for a competition I heard about in one of my workshops. Plus, I could use something to do in my videos in later months.
That's just a brief overview of my week. If you just imagine waking up at 6:30 each morning, going to bed around midnight each night, and cramming in volunteering, some classes, performances, and workshops each day; then you have a pretty good idea of what my week was like. If you've ever been to a Potter conference, just imagine that lasting for six days and you know exactly how I feel. Now I'm going to get some sleep.
Till I next fail at failure.
*By volunteer I mean forced to work most of the conference for no pay except a single banana. Chimps at the zoo get at least two.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Week Two Has Stories!
Somehow I've made it to week two of this whole blog/vlog weekly thing, and I'm super proud of myself. I think this a new high for me as far as sticking to New Year's Goals goes. I think that I made the decision this year to strive for goals I actually WANTED to achieve and that that has made this entire process easier and a lot more fun. This week for your reading pleasure I have two short stories I wrote over at 750words.com. We might have our fights but that site is certainly keeping me writing with it's wall of shame looming over my head.
Remember these stories are rough drafts so I make no promises about grammar (especially commas, Lena), but I hope you enjoy them. I also appreciate feedback so if you want to give me some I'd really love it. If you don't that's totally cool too. I'm a lurker quite often so I understand the tendency to always read and never comment. Enjoy the stories
Remember these stories are rough drafts so I make no promises about grammar (especially commas, Lena), but I hope you enjoy them. I also appreciate feedback so if you want to give me some I'd really love it. If you don't that's totally cool too. I'm a lurker quite often so I understand the tendency to always read and never comment. Enjoy the stories
Henry
The moon landing, everyone knows that story, or at least they think they do. What they don't know is that the moon landing wasn't all about simply proving that we could get a man on the moon, it was much more than that. The moon landing was all about hiding something, something the government never wanted anyone to discover. Haven't you ever wondered why we quit going back? Sure, they can claim it was a waste of money, but the truth is that they didn't want anyone to figure out the truth.
So, the question is, why did they let me go? Did someone at the top decide it was time to tell the truth? Did they figure there was no way I'd find out? Did they just not care anymore? I can never be sure why they allowed me to discover the truth; I only know that I did. By now you're wondering what in the heck I'm talking about. Well, give me a second, and I'll tell you. My name is Annabelle James, and I'm an astronaut with NASA. A few years ago the decision was made that we were going to send someone to the moon again, to give rest to the theories that it was all a hoax, and I jumped at the chance. I trained for years and spent even more time in interviews, talking about how excited I was. It was a one woman mission, well, one woman and one chimp. Joleen was my partner in space, and I was glad to have her. In fact, it's because of her that I even made the discovery at all, but more on that later.
When launch day finally arrived I was more excited than I've been in a very long time. I barely slept the night before and was ready for launch hours before anyone else was. Everything went smoothly and before I knew it Joleen and I were in space. The view was stunning! I'd seen so many videos of space, but nothing compared to it actually experiencing it. I slept a little on the way to the moon, and Joleen woke me up in time to take the lunar lander down to the surface. She's pretty intelligent, for a chimp. When the lander touched down I spent a few minutes trying to build up my courage. I was about to set foot on a place that had been untouched for years. I would see things that no one still living had ever seen. Joleen had no such thoughts and pulled at my arms and legs until I finally opened the portal.
I wish I could explain what it's like to be on the moon, but that is impossible for someone who hasn't been there. The training they give you in NASA doesn't even come close to the true feeling of jumping across the lunar surface. Joleen seemed to enjoy the moon even more than I did. So much, in fact, that she ignored my calls and wandered off on her own. At the time I was frustrated, but I would soon discover that Joleen knew what to do much better than I did. After collecting some samples and setting up the lunar rover I was assigned to launch, I decided to find Joleen. Tracking her was easy, but she'd traveled quite a distance. By the time I reached her the only footprints on the surface were her's. This would seem strange when I found what Joleen discovered, but at the time I thought nothing of it.
Joleen was sitting in the center of a crater pulling at something half buried in the ground. I was surprised to discover that rather than an old lunar rover it appeared to be a bone. I couldn't figure out what a bone would be doing on the moon, so I decided to investigate. I often wonder if it might have been better to turn back, but I didn't then and I can't change it now. A few hours of digging later proved that I had indeed discovered a bone, but rather than a chimp or some other animal, as I rationalized it might be, I found a strange skeleton. This looked like nothing I'd ever seen before. It was vaguely human in shape but had three obvious legs which each had two joints and a set of four arms, which were strangely thin and lacked hands. I checked my oxygen to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating, but everything seemed in order. I had found an alien. More than that the skeleton was buried with a US army jacket and a small steel box marked with the President's seal. I took as many pictures as I could, and worked to bring everything back to the lander.
I returned to find Houston slightly panicked that I hadn't checked in, but I just explained that Joleen had run away. I mentioned nothing about what I had found, I needed time to think. We took the lander back to the ship and I started our return trip. I took advantage of the time to myself and examined the steel box. It was locked, but had been buried a long time and I had no trouble breaking the mechanism. Opening it was a much more difficult task. I fought with myself for a long time, trying to decide if this was really something I wanted to do. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and I flung open the lid. Inside was a collection of papers and photos detailing the alien, who was named Henry. Apparently Henry crashed to earth and actually lived in a government facility for years. The army jacket was his. It was with his help that we made our technological advances and he actually designed the first space shuttle. When he died the government didn't want him discovered and so they sent a final mission to the moon, to have him buried where no one could find him.
By the time we reached earth I had made the decision that I wouldn't be quiet. I was going to tell Henry's story even if no one believed me. I wanted the world to know who he was, what he had done, and the truth about life in the universe. I stepped off of the shuttle with Henry's bones in a bag on my back and the box in my arms, ready to scream the truth to the press even as government agents dragged me away. Imagine my surprise when it was the President who met me on the end of the gangway.
"You found him. It's time they knew anyway."
Emily
This world gave me no child, so I built one. Perhaps built is not the phrase I should have used, created might be a much better description. I can leave it up to you to decide. Many people have called my child an abomination, a freak, a monster, a demon, and a crime against nature. I called her Emily.
Before she was my daughter, Emily was a lot of other people's daughters too. When I was creating her I figured this would make her a perfect child. After all, all those other people seemed so sad to have lost their daughters and cried about how perfect they were. Now, before you get any Frankenstein ideas in your head, I want to take a second and explain myself. It's true, if you met Emily on the street you probably think she was nothing but pieced together flesh brought to life, but I assure you that isn't the case. I might have started with parts collected from perfect little girls all over the world, but Emily is much more than that. I never believed that flesh could be reanimated anyway, and even if it could I didn't want to run into the same problems that Doctor Frankenstein did. On the outside Emily might be other people's daughters, but inside she's 100% mine.
Originally Emily wasn't my daughter at all, when I first started tinkering with cogs and gears I still had dreams of John and I having children and growing old together, but the accident changed all that. One car crash later John was dead and I'd lost the only daughter I would have a chance to bear. My mother tried to encourage me to find someone else, but I know that John had been my one and only, and nothing could bring him back. I could keep part of him though, and Emily literally has his eyes. It was almost a year after the crash, and I was tinkering with an artificial intelligence program that John had been working on when I found a file labeled Emily. John had originally designed it to be part of a robotic doll or teddy bear that could learn and act like a child. He'd been making it as a gift for our unborn daughter. With John's program, a small robotic body, and a covering gathered from the local graveyards, Emily was born.
She was born with a body that would always be seven, but her mind started fresh and new. Teaching her about life gave me a new purpose, and soon she was teaching me things I never knew. I spent the first eight years of Emily's life living in our house in the country. Since Emily didn't have to eat it was easy for us to be self sufficient. I explained to her that she wasn't like me, but I couldn't really explain how she'd been created, because she wasn't ready for that. The problem was that she was ready to be outside. Despite my protests Emily was determined to see the towns she'd read about in books, and in the end I couldn't deny her the chance. I dressed her in a way that would make her look as much like a normal child as possible, and prayed that no one looked too closely.
At first town seemed like a wonderful idea. Emily excited watched from the car and asked all sorts of questions. I took her to a museum and we walked around the park. She especially loved feeding the ducks small bits of bread. We spent the afternoon watching a Shakespeare performance in the park and I thought we were going to have the perfect day. That was until we met the ice cream cart. The cart was surrounded by children, as ice cream carts tend to be, and Emily was drawn in by the bright colors. The real problem came when the man offered Emily an ice cream cone. Despite my insistance that we didn't need ice cream today, the man gave some to Emily for free. I tried to walk away before Emily could eat it, but she was curious, I never ate ice cream at home, and she tried it. Ice cream and electronics are not meant to go together, as anyone who has spilled some on a computer is aware.
We weren't nearly far enough out of the park when Emily started to spark, and despite my best efforts to scoop her up and leave, people noticed. They rushed over, assuming I'm sure, that something was wrong with my daughter. When they discovered what was really happening, and what she really looked like, the screaming started. I grabbed Emily and ran towards the car as fast as I could. The mob followed me, screaming about what an abomination she was, and what a terrible monster I was for creating her. I couldn't even pause to get the ice cream out of Emily's hand. That ended up being the biggest mistake I've ever made. By the time we were safely away in the car, she was shorted out and her motherboard was fried beyond repair. There was no way to bring Emily back.
When I got home I laid Emily to rest in the garden and returned sadly to my lab. I stared at my tools and the computer and quickly made a decision. Molly, is never going to be allowed to go into town.
***
Till I next fail at failure.
Monday, January 3, 2011
It's 2011 Let's Make This Happen
Hello, dearest non-existent blog readers, how have you been? Really? That’s lovely. Being non-existent sounds quite fun. If you actually DO exist, you likely arrived here because of my 2011 goal to post a blog once a week and you’re trying to check and see if this is actually real. Surprise! Now, you should know that this does NOT mean I will regularly post on Mondays (or Tuesdays depending on where you live). Maybe later I will decide on a day to make a blog post, but for now it will remain whatever day I decide that it would be fun to publicly display my writing on the Internet. In case you’re wondering, I haven’t set a day for my vlogs either; we’ll just have to see.
I’m not sure what I’m going to use this blog for yet, but today I’m going to post some writing I did for 750words.com. 750words is a site where you post 750 words (privately) every single day. It’s a great way to get your creativity flowing, but it can get annoying sometimes, as you should be able to tell by reading my latest entry. I might share more of this as I go along, or I might blog about my day, and I will definitely be blogging about my ant farm. If you’re interested, stay tuned, and remember to comment.
***
I know I shouldn't cheat but I'm sick and being sick makes you unexcited to do things like write 750 words to a computer program that is totally uncaring and doesn't even have the decency to bring you chicken noodle soup when you have the flu. You don't love me! I see how it is. This is it. I'm done with you, 750 words dot com! That's right, I used your full name, and I will continue to do so until I feel like you've gotten the point. Have you gotten the point 750 words dot com? Have you? I don't ask for much, you know, just the chance to be on pacific time and every once in awhile have you help me out because I'm feeling sick, or down, or just not at all in the mood for writing. Is that really too much? Any human would be willing to do this for me, why won't you? You're supposed to be there for me. You're supposed to support me. You were created for me, but all you do is take take take and make me feel bad. See that, I'm going to have a pause because I had to blow my nose. Blow my nose and you won't take any pity on me! No, you'll just keep counting the time away and mentioning loudly how long it took me to write. Well, I don't appreciate it! I might just have to take my writing moods somewhere else. I bet Blogspot would treat me better! I haven't seen him in over six months and does he hold it against me? No! He'd happily take me back in a second!
You, on the other hand, are determined to track and belittle me for every moment I spend apart from you. This is not how I'm meant to live! A girl should be free to write as much as she wants, when and where she wants, but you never let this happen! You keep me from expressing my creativity the way I feel like expressing it. You've become controlling, and I just can't deal with it anymore. I can't be kept on a leash like this. I can't be forced to deal with your need for 750 words EVERY DAY, while you continue to ignore my needs and desires! You never listen to me, or ask me how I'm feeling. You just sit there on the screen demanding that I fill your page with words of my own design. I just can't handle it anymore! What if I don't have any words? What if I want you to give me the words today? What if I'm sad, angry, stressed, and have no time? Would you care for me then? No, of course you wouldn't! You NEVER care about my life or want to help me. It's all about you You YOU! Well that's it! I'm finished! This is goodbye! No, it isn't 750 words, and I just don't care! Get your fix from someone else today 750 words dot com, cause I'm through with you! Now I'm going to cheat! I'm cheating and you get to see how YOU like it when I ignore YOUR wants and needs and feelings.
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah*
If you made it all the way through all of those blah’s congratulations! You don’t win anything, but you can go about your day knowing that you are one of the few who read this entire blog. Granted, you’re one of the few who would actually read even the beginning of this blog, but that’s something isn’t it?
Till I next fail at failure.
* ever notice how once you read a word that many times it starts to look like it isn't a word anymore?
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