Lauren's Got Moxie

another place for me to talk on the internet ...

2010-06-05T13:33:00.000-04:00

greener grass that can do what it wants

2010-05-18T01:57:00.001-04:00

My little family unit lives in Queens, unlike most of the people that I know; they are in New Jersey and Brooklyn, both of which might as well be Maine for all of the visiting that we do. This is generally fine with me, as I tend to prefer having a lot of acquaintances but very few friends. (Friends were a bit too much work for me even before I had a husband and Kid.) But of course, woman cannot live on the company of her spouse, child and the people who work at the neighborhood stores alone. So, fortunately, I've started cultivating friendships in the local theater scene.

It's always interesting to start out in a new group of people. I've never had a really hard time doing this, though, as has been mentioned in a previous blog, sometimes it takes a while for me to warm up and have my full personality emerge. I'm a space heater, not a fluorescent light, you see.

Anyways, I'm enjoying being a part of the larger Queens drama society, even though my participation is fringe at best. But it seems that the people my age or thereabouts that go out after shows are mostly single or dating, with a few married-no kids around. Of course it works out fine; I know better than to talk about my family life, sticking to common ground, and since the Hubby is generous enough to hold down the fort during these once-every-month-or-so outings, I don't have to worry about getting home at a certain time. (It helps that I go out on Saturdays, when people often have a matinee the next day and can't stay out all night.)

The only times I feel uncomfortable are when these no-strings-to-tie-them-down folks talk about what they're doing, projects-wise. They go from show to show, without a question as to whether or not it's possible. The last time I did a show, I had to rearrange my whole family's lives and schedules, resulting in lots of stress and some financial hardship. It was worth it, yes - even when I'd get to rehearsal five minutes late, sweaty from running all of the way and still fuming over an argument I'd just had, I could then disappear into my old life and my character for a while. Still, I've had to take a few months off, and even when things had calmed down, I've had to wait for a project that was within walking distance with a role for me with dates that I could do. I'm still waiting.

Within the next six months, the Kid should be old enough to hang out at rehearsal with me until her father can pick her up. In a few years, she could read or do homework at a table unsupervised when I'm onstage. The problem is that I'm 33 now, old enough for the good 30s roles and young looking-enough to go for late 20s stuff as well. I have a small window for playing Marian the Librarian, or Miss Balish in She Loves Me - and that window is closing a little more every day. It's no surprise that actresses get pregnant in their late 30s; it's a fallow time of being too old to be an ingenue and not old enough to be the matriarch. Silly me, I got knocked up at 30 instead.

This is one of those issues that come with the "being married" territory. Thing is, if I hung out with more married people, I could gain the missing perspective that would turn this from a nagging jealousy to a manageable notch in the loss column. I was hoping that writing about it here would help me to work it out ... Clearly, I've been watching too many sitcoms these days. My problems can't be solved in 22 minutes, or in 2000-odd words. :)

song of myself

2010-04-12T02:07:00.003-04:00

I was thinking today about mix tapes ... Specifically, the beast that is the audio cassette mix tape. Now, I've already touched on this lost craft of musical scrapbooking, but there's another element to it that has yet to be reproduced by the "shuffle" button on my iPod.

Audio cassette mix tapes were always the most laborious of this genre. You needed a double-cassette player, one deck set to "record" and one set to "play" - and you COULD NOT CONFUSE THE TWO. (I did once, while dubbing the lone copy of the radio sketch I co-wrote with the Comedy Club at Penn State. That sketch is now lost to the ether - though, mercifully, as the parts that I remember weren't that funny.) There were no notches or tracks to use as guideposts when finding the songs that you wanted to add. Lots of fast-forwarding, rewinding, pausing at the right time ... and this is all AFTER agonizing over the set list and BEFORE the snazzy artwork and track listings for the cassette holder.

Perhaps the most important thing lost in the transition to MP3s is the personal use mix tape. Can anyone imagine spending that much time on oneself anymore? Not to enhance one's appearance (going to the gym, spending time at a salon), or to fulfill basic needs (shopping, eating, showering) - but just to have something to listen to when you're in the gym, or the car, or on your walk to school.

Today I was waiting for my drink order at Starbucks when a 70-ish woman walked through the door. She looked at the cashier, saw that there were six people waiting in line, muttered about the line being too long, and left. This woman, who wasn't dressed for work or going out, and who probably didn't have anywhere that she had to get to immediately, wanted a coffee but didn't want to spend the 10 minutes it would've taken to get it.

This is not about impatience to me - sure, I live in NYC and that is certainly a quality that we residents share, but that is a symptom rather than the problem. The problem is not spending enough time taking care of ourselves. We let our hang-ups and our fears and our issues and all of that negativity just grow, like weeds in a garden, taking up all of the space that the good stuff needs to take root. We have to go to other people to figure out what's wrong with us, when if we spent a little more time just checking in, we could figure it out ourselves.

Has anyone ever explained what's wrong with you, and you've said, "Oh my gosh, you're totally right!" and been amazed to hear it laid out? Your reaction is telling you that YOU KNEW WHAT WAS WRONG. Those "revelations" are never that because somewhere you knew this stuff all along.

So, back to the mix tapes ... When I was a senior in high school, I made myself a mix tape full of sadness and pain - Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana, Pearl Jam. The thinking was that it would help me to deal with being upset. As I crafted it, I speculated that, if I were to put these songs in a particular order, I would [de]crescendo to such despair that I might take my own life. So I made sure to tweak things so that I would go up and down, rather than straight down. And the saving grace was the addition of "It Can't Rain All the Time" by Jane Siberry, off my much-beloved soundtrack to "The Crow." Once I worked myself into a pretty mess of self-loathing ("Hurt" felt like Trent Reznor had ghost-written it for me), I would get to the soothing words ... "It can't rain all the time, your tears won't last forever," and then the crying and the better-ness would start. (And still do - damn my salty, blurry vision!)

Self-preservation, you might say - but that implies instinct rather than feeling. I felt sorry for myself, I LOVED myself - even if I didn't outrightly know it. As much as I was worn out from depression, and terribly tired of living in my mind, I also felt almost a nurturing, protecting thing towards me. I made myself laugh with the things that I said, and I made myself laugh even more with the things I never said out loud. I had redeeming qualities that made putting up with all of my crap worth it. And I didn't realize it then, but I realize now, that that is why other people would be able to put up with me, and to love me. Other people can deal with a lot of crap, much more than you think they can, as long as there's ice cream coming. And yes, I can deliver some ice cream.

A friend of mine in high school once pointed out to me that I started a lot of sentences with "I," and that it sounded conceited. To this day, I write and rewrite every single text message/email/FB status/blog entry so that there aren't so many "I"s to be found, so that nobody would mistake me for being conceited. Most of the time, it's because I find it ludicrous that anyone would ever think that I'd think so highly of myself. (Some of the time, it's because I don't want to let on that I do!) But as much as I may refer to things through the first person - and I'm letting it go right now a bit out of respect for the rawness and truth of this post - it's not because I'm overly concerned with myself.

Maybe I should be.

the shy, retiring type?

2010-01-25T00:09:00.000-05:00

Depending on whom you ask, I am one of two types of people:

A dryly funny, talkative person who's quick on her feet, fairly at ease in social situations and who enjoys other people's company
A quiet observer who doesn't add to conversations, who talks a little quickly when she does talk, who sometimes has trouble expressing herself because she's stumbling over words, and who seems embarrassed and slightly lonely in crowds

I'm typing these descriptions, trying to get them right, and thinking, "That doesn't sound like two sides of one person; that sounds like one side of two different people." But it's true ... my family, friends and some acquaintances think of me as #1, while other acquaintances could never believe that I am anything but #2.

When I was at Penn State, I decided that I wanted to be part of the Penn State Thespians. (If you don't know about the Thespians, it's like a co-ed fraternity for theater geeks.) I can't really remember why I wanted to join, but I did, and I put in my time, and I became a member. Around them, I was #2 all of the time; I just never felt comfortable enough around those people to be #1. (At this point, you're forgiven for asking, "So WHY did you want to join?" And again, I can't give you an answer.)

It's not that I was intimidated - or the opposite, that I thought that they were beneath me. They just weren't really the kind of crowd that would "get" me, so I never bothered to fill them in on what they weren't getting. At one of their parties, some of us were playing a game where a person in the room would be described using a Disney character, and you'd have to guess whom they were describing. The clue for me was Belle from Beauty and the Beast ... quiet, bookish, brunette - yes, I can see that (and will certainly accept it because she's pretty!), but that doesn't capture what I'm really about.

After being around them for a little over a year, I was invited to "commune with Thespus," a secret late-night initiation process that is like hazing except that it's all silly and fun and you don't drink or get beaten up or feel degraded afterward. That year's proceedings had an Olympics theme, so during one part we were supposed to do an improv where two people were participating in a made-up Olympic event and two people would do play-by-play. I guess that the idea of doing improv (which at that time I'd been doing for two years) made me loose and confident because I launched into a veddy British (and very dry) sportscaster character.

Suddenly I was being myself, and they were laughing and looking at me like I'd taken off a mask and revealed myself to be someone else. (Guess I had.) If you will allow me a ridiculous comparison, it was like my very own Susan Boyle moment - the expectation and reality didn't match, the frumpy could could sing, or, in my case, Belle became the Genie from Aladdin. (Ugh, more Disney metaphors!)

And if this were a coming-of-age story, or a Lifetime movie, I would've accepted the accolades of my peers and been spurred on to be #1 from. then. on. But I didn't - I went back to #2, and in fact didn't hang out with them as much anymore because I didn't know the younger members as much as the older ones who had graduated.

So we come to now. I keep switching between those two sides, but as I age and spend an increasing amount of time in my own company and with the Kid, I am leaning on #2 more and more. Having worked as a receptionist for several years didn't help; being at a desk by yourself and talking to disembodied voices all day is #2's dream job.

I am having more and more trouble in social situations, and find them whirring past without really experiencing them ... Life gets stuck on the 2x>> button on my personal remote. This lack of self-confidence gets lackier as I replay conversations in my head and fret over talking too much, sounding too needy, behaving like a simpleton. It's laughable that I used to dumb myself down in certain situations for fear of sounding too smart, and now I'm having trouble smartening back up - or, at least, finding an equilibrium that's not off-putting.

Writing about it right now has helped clear my head a little. Didn't I used to write poetry, after all, to clean out the words gathered like cobwebs that cluttered the place, my mind? Perhaps I need to get back in the habit, using it to practice connecting to people where cold-calling them is failing ...

post-part ... um, depression ...

2009-10-06T00:48:00.007-04:00

Well, it's day two of life after the closing of the play I've been working on, and I'm settling into the old routine. "Settling" is a particularly appropriate word in this case.

It was really, really good for me to be in TRUST. The rehearsal process, the camaraderie, the theater war stories ... it brought me back to life.

Sometimes I feel like I'm playing the role of the stay-at-home mother because it sure doesn't seem like me, like who I was. Un-thought-out clothing, focusing my attention on someone else, mindless chatting with other women - who is this person that I've become?

Talking about things besides the Kid was nice. Talking about acting and films and plays was nice. You can't have those conversations with other moms. Most of the time, the only things you have in common are a zip code and menstrual cycles. Add to that the fact that I'm really more a "one of the guys" kind of girl, and it's even more ludicrous that, as the years go by, I'm going to be spending increased time with other women, talking about PTA politics, date nights and what stores just opened or closed on Austin Street.

Many have compared performing to a drug ... the highest highs, the lowest lows, and that need to do it again once the effect's worn off. But if it's like a drug, to me it's like insulin, or anti-seizure medication - it doesn't remove me from me, it brings me back to myself. Of course that sounds very dramatic - particularly in a blog, and while discussing drama to boot - but it doesn't feel like an overstatement of my case, in my case.

Well, it's going to have to be a drug I'll live without for a while. There aren't any shows for me on the horizon, only life, a husband, a baby, fall TV, and the internet. My next public appearances will be at the Adornaments booth at the Shops at Bryant Park fair this winter, where I'll be personalizing XMAS ornaments and piggy banks on Sunday mornings so I can get out of the house and make some money. It's not the role of a lifetime, but it'll have to do for now.

back in the game!

2009-08-07T10:01:00.000-04:00

Over the past 12 months, I've finally felt that strong longing to be part of theater again. (To recap: I did theater almost nonstop from ages 12 to about 23, when I burned out and migrated to improv.) Since there is a community theater in my town of Forest Hills, I thought that I could get involved with them.

As much as it's slagged off in the professional and almost-professional NY scene, there is a lot of good in community theater. It's made up of people who do shows not because they want to move on to the next level, to be seen, to be cutting-edge, to be famous, to be admired ... these are people who do shows because they love theater, and because their audience loves theater, and why can't that be enough?

Last August, I'd read that they were doing Company in May, and, as a musical theater gal who is in her 30s, I was PSYCHED about this - up until February, that is, when I found out that I'd be going to a wedding during the first weekend of the run. Oh, well. Too bad. That sucks.

Then a few weeks ago, I received an email about their new show, a historical drama about Ida Tarbell, a journalist who went after Standard Oil. Despite the fact that the lead role is a woman in her mid-to-late 40s, I thought, Why not go out for it? My stock in trade during middle school and high school was middle-aged women! Besides, age is elastic in community theater - I should know, having played characters in their 20s, 30s and 40s while still a teenager.

My audition on Wednesday went really, really well. I'd been nervous about figuring out how to scale my performance for a stage, since it had been a while and I really didn't want to overdo it. For some reason, I just connected immediately to the material, and gave more of a performance than an audition. The character as written was a little younger, closer to my age, and, thanks to months spent trying to enliven children's books for my daughter, I was able to put spins on my line readings that made the text more like language.

The theater company had a second day of auditions on Thursday, and I was to come back on Friday night for callbacks. Except that I got a call on Thursday night. And was offered the role!

You must understand that, in all of my years of acting and auditioning, I have gotten exactly three roles for which I had specifically auditioned, none of which were lead roles. Most of the time, I've auditioned for a lead, but been cast as another character - or not at all. The one time in my life I have ever played a lead role - in high school - I'd actually auditioned for a smaller role because my friend wanted the lead, so I couldn't fully enjoy it when cast.

This is totally different. And intimidating. And exciting! And scary.

I haven't been onstage in several years. I haven't had to learn lines or memorize blocking. Now I'm diving headfirst into a drama, complete with facts-heavy, specific dialogue and monologues to the ghost of my father.

There's also the responsibility of being a cast member who's playing the lead. I need to show up on time, be professional, learn my lines as fast or faster than everyone, and, above all, be gracious, pleasant and fun to be around. I mean, obviously, the director is in charge of the group, but it's up to me to set a good example.

So how am I wrapping my head around all of this?

I'm looking to the character ... a woman of strength, focus and discipline. I've decided to make changes in my life. I'm eating better. I'm waking up earlier and going to bed earlier. I started running this morning (well, walking/running, since it's my first time ever doing it). If I spend the next six weeks taking control of my life, I will be stronger, leaner, and calmer. I will help myself be a better me as well as a better "her."

This is my chance to storm back into theater, and I want to make a splash!

-Oh, and I also want to be reviewed, DESPERATELY. Always have, but never have been. (If you look at my theater reviews, I always made a point to write about the cast, singling out people whenever possible, just in case anyone else was like me in this regard.) Hopefully, I can use my theater connections to make that happen. ;)

early writings

2009-06-03T16:52:00.005-04:00

Playing on the theme of my past that's been haunting this blog these days, I thought it would be fun to do an entry on things I'd written from years ago.

Starting from age 9, I thought I would become a writer - specifically, at that age, a poet, but a poet's a writer, just like a square's a rectangle, but not necessarily the other way around. Anyway, I was wise/conceited? enough to keep everything I've ever written, just in case I would be famous some day and people might want to read a nine-year-old's poems. (Imagine reading a sonnet by a school-aged Shakespeare? Not that I'm in any way comparing myself to Shakespeare - though I have written sonnets, and I also enjoy making up words in the name of artistic freedom.)

Here are some bits from my 6th-8th grade English class journal (including the original, sometimes iffy spellings):

11-18-1988

A Dream birthday party

"I walked up the steps to my house. Since it was my birthday, they let me see 'Big' alone, for some reason, in the theater.

Hey, there are no lights on, I thought. Afraid as I was, my curiosity got the better of me and I went inside. The lights were off.

'Suprise!!!,' all of my friends and family yelled."

That would be a dream birthday party come true. A suprise party.

(Ed. comment: It's 21 years later, and I've STILL never been thrown a surprise party. Ah, well ...)

12-19-1988:

Rudolph

Rudolf had a problem
Of course, I mean his nose
Everyday and every night
It always, always glowed
All the reindeer laughed
And they never let him play
Rudolph always moaned and
groaned
All the time until one day
That day, of course, was
Christmas Eve
Santa came over and said
"Rudolph, it is very dark.
Won't you guide my sled?"
Rudolph accepted, and from then
on
He always guided the sled.
Said Santa, "Rudolph you're
such a big help to me,
I hope you'll never be
dead."

(Ed. comment: I much prefer the ending to my version of that song, don't you?)

2-3-1989

Elephant

If you could be an animal, would you be an elephant? Sure, Sharon, Lois and Bram would make your title famous, but so what? People would say "How many elephants can you fit in a car?" and other elephant jokes like that. Also, people would say "Lose some weight!" and make jokes about your weight. I'd hate to be an elephant.

(Ed. comment: I don't get that SL&B reference; what was I talking about?! There's a lot of topical humor in this journal.)

5-15-1989

Untitled

Dear Diary,

Hi! This is your friend Christie Brinkley. I'm all finished with those stupid Prell commercials, so now I can relax and write at pool side. Hmm. I'm going to have to be on Oprah's show at 5, so I have an hour to relax, because it takes me an hour to wash and dry my hair, put on my dress, and put on my makeup. Let's see. What time is it. 4:00! Oh no! Bye diary!

Love,
Christie Brinkly

(Ed. note: See what I mean about topical humor? Also, that's very typical of me at that time, establishing a scenario, getting bored with it and making a quick exit.)

There's lots more where this came from. Maybe I'll switch gears with my journal YET AGAIN and continue this for a while ... ;)

past lives and animated videos

2009-05-23T02:32:00.005-04:00

I've jumped on the Xtranormal bandwagon and created a video. You can view it here:

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch?e=20090523013940177

It has to do with my current extended trip down memory lane. :)

Speaking of ... (WARNING: EXTENDED LOST METAPHOR AHEAD!) I've realized that all of this delving into the past has left me a little unstuck in time. The letters I've been reading - and the late hours/quiet times I've been reading them in - have blurred the line between the past and present. I've found myself being anxious over old crushes and guilty about the way I handled some situations all over again.

And my curiosity about the whereabouts/lives of old pen pals, high school friends, etc.? Merely an attempt by my addled brain to amass enough Constants to deal with the situation. If I can place some of the players in these dramas in their current context, then I can re-situate myself and move on.

I just need to purge my house/mind of this stuff and get back to living in the here and now. There's cool stuff ahead ... attending my sister-in-law's wedding, vacationing at the Jersey shore, and working on bringing another Butler into the world. (Yes, you heard/read me right; details to follow this fall, I hope!)

I want to be fully present in the present for all of those things. Especially that last one.

messages of an afternoon

2009-05-12T00:33:00.001-04:00

Last week - to be specific, on my 32nd birthday - I was charged with the task of getting all of the rest of my stuff out of my old room at my parents' house. Since I moved out years ago, the "rest" consisted of some books and some really old stuff. Among that old stuff are letters ... lots and lots and lots of them. I have one box full of notes passed during high school as well as love letters from high school boyfriends. There is a folder full of poems and letters from my 12th grade boyfriend. (Note: I really did not date that much at ALL, contrary to how this sounds; I just happened to date writers.)

Today I've been going through a box of letters from pen pals. I've divided them by person and put them in chronological order, so I can recreate my half of the correspondence. I had friendships with a girl from Ohio, a girl from the south of France, a 39-year-old CPA from Tennessee, a boy from NJ (who's an actor and musician now, which is pretty cool) and a boy from CT.

These are letters that I have not read since I first received them, letters that are up to 20 years old! These are people who were important enough to me that I wrote them faithfully once a month, sometimes over periods of several years. And these are people with whom I've completely lost touch for (mostly) unremembered reasons.

Just now, I've been reliving the saga between me and the boy from CT. We met on a Monty Python message board way back in the early internet days, and became a message board couple, even getting "married" through traded posts. (It was different back then, kids, that's all I can say. Also, I was 15 years old!) At that time, in lieu of emails, you could post a message that could only be seen by you and the other person. We shared a couple of, um, racy private posts, particularly for two teenagers with very limited experience with the opposite sex.

Those posts led to letter writing and a few phone calls. Though, obviously, I can't remember those calls, I do have all of his letters from June 1993 - October 1994. Since I will not reveal his name, and I have no intention ever to get in contact with him (for reasons you'll see), I will now summarize our amazing correspondence because it begs to be shared. (Griffin and Sabine, eat your heart out! Modern Love, please call me!)

6/22/1993: 1st letter from him, including a run-down about his looks, birthday, favorites, what qualities/features he likes in a girl, movies he's seen recently, and a coy (and calculated!) mention of a girl he might start dating. He ends by asking for a photo of me, and says that he will include a photo in the next letter because he doesn't have one right now. Letter is signed "luv ya."

7/27/1993: He disparages his handwriting (yes, these letters are hand-written! how old fashioned!), obsesses about Stanley Kubrick films, discusses the way men plot out asking girls out (in response to my complaints about being called a tease; I was a big flirt in HS), mentions how we would be perfect for each other if only we lived in the same place, and talks casually about coming down and visiting me "like, next summer or something." Letter is signed "w/Love & Stuff, Hugs & Kisses, Hand Grenades & Phone Calls." Implores me to write him back QUICK! No photo is included.

8/19/1993: He critiques the video for REM's "Everybody Hurts," talks about seeing movies - and says that The Fugitive is "the most fun I've had all August - aside from thinking of you. (a chorus of 'aaw's come from the mouths of all your girl-friends as you read this letter to them.)" Takes a shot at Gene Siskel (still alive at that time), Wil Wheaton (just off ST: TNG) and a few others. Tells me that "Guys love sex" and that I could use it as a weapon against them, but that I shouldn't do it too often or I'll "be a slut." Talked about a trip to Quebec. Letter is signed "Love." No photo is included.

As you can see, things are starting to happen here ...

9/24/1993: I sent my photo in the last letter, and, as I recall, his response came pretty fast. He opens by commenting on how he loves my photo and that I'm "extremely pretty." (Tee hee!) Sends me a photo back ... 16-year-old Lauren thought he was cute enough; 32-year-old Lauren thinks he's a poor man's Jason Segel, without the sharp comedic timing and musical abilities and with a PONYTAIL. (shudder) (Though I do think Jason Segel is adorable; however, that's 95% his talent/personality and 5% his looks.) Talks about his new p-t job, takes a shot at Doctor Who's Tom Baker, complains about Dave's World (yes, the Dave Barry TV show; he and I were both big DB fans) ... and suggests that we have a non-exclusive long-distance relationship. Letter ends with "Love."

As a romantic without any other good romantic prospects at this time, I said yes. Even though we have never met or talked on the phone. Realize that this is WAY before Match.com and the legitimization of online relationships. But we are two crazy, hormonal teens with a shared love of MPFC and Dave Barry, and I start to daydream about meeting and making out with this guy.

10/21/1993: He asks how M*A*S*H went (I played Hot Lips in the show during HS), talks about working and buying CDs and videocassettes with his wages, continues our convos about Dave's World and the SciFi channel, and says he was published in the school magazine. He is glad that I wanted to become "long-distance boy/girlfriends," and reiterates that we can see other people - though he says that this is more for me (because I am so pretty) than for him (because he is not). Letter is signed "XOXOXO."

12/14/1993: This letter is typed, and significantly longer. I guess I'd started beginning letters with "Dear (insert term of endearment x 10) (his name);" he tries to top me by writing lots of stuff about me, including that he's fallen in love with me, after "Dear Lauren." Yes, he's already said that he's fallen in love with me IN THE HEADER OF THE LETTER. There are some movie reviews and more Dave's World banter (yes, I know!). He calls me beautiful (because I'd slagged off my looks in the last letter), and says that the reason I'm single is because I "don't seem to dress like a slut." (He's not advocating this; he's just saying that that might help me to "get more men.") Then he talks about these girls he's trying to hook up with, and how he cut his hair. He signs the letter with a lot of sexy talk, and PS-es by including his telephone # and asking that I give him mine, so we can talk on the phone.

There's certainly a lot of confusing stuff in there, right? Does he want me to get jealous over those girls? (I did.) Do I call him? Yes, I do.

There is a gap in between letters now; we must've kept in touch over the phone during this time. The next correspondence is on Valentine's Day ...

2/14/1994: He sends two cards. One has a cheesy poem adressed to me (which refers to my hot bod, though not in those terms), talks a lot about love, and is signed "Love and Slow, Passionate kisses." The other talks about how he loves me AND is in love with me. This second card made me very giggly at the time, and made its way to school for my friends to see.

4/11/1994: It starts out talking about Monty Python's Contractual Obligation Album. There is a mention of our spending time together and a mention of our having sex together.

Then in the second paragraph, he wants to know if we can have sex when we meet. He goes on to say that he's a virgin, and he wants to lose his virginity to me because I'm the right girl. (Or, rather, he says that he's "got a strong feeling that it's [me].") In the PS, he asks that, if we do have sex, that I should "please try to keep [my] virginity until 'you-know-when.' It's just one of those things."

Now, when I read this letter on the couch just now, I had to stifle my laughter so I didn't wake up the Kid. I'd COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN about this indecent proposal. I tried to think how nearly 17-year-old me would've reacted to it ... not as giggly, obviously, as I was, ah, still flowered, and hadn't been in a situation like this before.

Judging from the next letter, I must've freaked out and panicked a little. I think that I decided that this had run its course, and to try to get out of this relationship. However, I had never broken it off with anyone and didn't quite know how to do it ...

5/23/1994: He starts by saying that my "'getting back to our old relationship' thing is a wonderful idea." He says that he'd actually fallen out of love with me, but that he didn't want to tell me, blah blah blah. (Hmm, I wonder when this happened - before or after I turned him down for sex?) Then he says that our "dating" had messed with his love life, and talked about all of these girls that he was dating during that time and how things didn't end well. He gets upset because I kept saying that I was busy (obviously I was blowing him off), that we're great friends, and that it's "[my] loss" if I don't want to keep in touch. Letter is signed "Love."

10/17/1994: I guess I'd still talked to him over the phone once or twice, as he refers to this. He talks about getting some late-night chow and coffee at an IHOP, and talks about going through depression. He has a girlfriend now named Shannon, and talks about how awesome it was having sex with her for the first time - and the times after that. But then he gets kinda sad and dark and basically alludes to the fact that this girl is "the right girl by default" but that he's not sure of her. He mentions in a PS that she's jealous of me and that she wants to read my letters (surprise, surprise - I'd want to do the same if I were in her shoes!).

At this point, I think I stopped writing, and he did, too. It was my senior year of HS, and I'd started dating someone locally, starred in my high school play, and got accepted into college, so my life got a lot busier and fuller.

Reading over these letters again, after having a lot more experience with guys under my belt (so to speak), it's so funny how different my take on this "relationship" is. Clearly, this guy really did fall for me, but he was employing all of these face-saving and get-me-jealous maneuvers. It's always a surprise when guys fall harder than girls, isn't it? I saw this as more of a lark than anything else.

Though I wonder what he made of his life, I think it would be really weird for both of us to talk. Sometimes, the past should stay buried.

And sometimes, you should tear it up and throw it away. Which is what I did with each letter after I summarized it. And which is what I'll do with every old letter I have.

There is a weight that the past has, even if it's unremembered. I need to let it go, to erase it, to focus on what's now and what comes next.

PS: I did look him up just now ... He's done a lot of online film criticism, and lived in NY in 2003. Turns out we were in the same place at the same time at one time.

feeling generous

2009-04-19T23:11:00.002-04:00

Do you want something from me? Well, here's your chance!

http://www.facebook.com/note.php?created&&suggest&note_id=88740765859&id=

explanations

2009-04-11T00:35:00.000-04:00

This summer, it'll be 10 years since I graduated from college. I always assumed that, after this much time had passed, I'd be romanticizing my time there and wishing that I was back.

This is not the case.

It's not that I didn't have a good time at dear old Penn State University; I did. But I came to college, like many people I think, with great expectations:

I thought (hoped? assumed?) that I'd meet my true love there. Yes, I dated a few people, and even got engaged, but did not meet my husband until I came to New York.

I thought (hoped? assumed?) that my acting career would take off. I ended up having stomach problems, dropping out of the acting track in the second half of my junior year and switching to opera, which I did for two semesters but decided not to pursue. (I would've had to stay in school to get the credits for a minor in music, then applied to grad school. I wanted to graduate on time.)

I thought (hoped? assumed?) that I'd meet life-long friends there. Thanks to Facebook, I am in touch with lots of my college friends, but my best friends are my husband and Ruth, whom I met in elementary school.

So, no longings for college here ... though I wouldn't turn down a chocolate peanut butter milkshake at the Corner, or a black-and-white malt and sliders at Baby's. :)

If anything, I've become very nostalgic for high school these days. It probably started when I saw High School Musical, which I'm sure would be one of my FAVORITE. MOVIES. EVER. if I was a tween again.

In high school, my goals were simple: to star in a school play and have a boyfriend. In my senior year, I achieved both of those things. It didn't take a confluence of luck and timing and right-place, right-time and busting your hump to get those things going ... I did what I loved, and the rest, as they say, followed.

Imagine being able to achieve your dreams in your adult life! It happens to some people, obviously, but not for the great mediocre majority of us. The people I know who have gone places, who are strivers, have done so at the expense of other things that I want and have - namely, a spouse, child and stability.

I don't think that I wanted those things more than success; it's just that, for me, it was easier to obtain them. Perhaps if there had been a clearer path for me - if I'd pursued an English degree and had a chance to get a script supervisor position at a TV show, leading to a job as a staff writer on a sitcom, which is ALL I REALLY WANT, and it's NOT EVEN A VERY LOFTY GOAL - I would've made a different choice.

But it is what it is. I'm here, other people have had TV shows and book deals, and I'm annoyed and jealous and depressed and lazy about it all.

And if everyone around me was as lazy as I was, I wouldn't even be in this existential pickle, now would I? :)

this morning

2009-04-09T11:22:00.000-04:00

I've been prickly and on edge for the last few days, like a plate in mid-air, on its way to a thousand shattered pieces on the ground and pissed off at that newbie waiter who thought he could get me where I'm going without a hitch.

So when a plate did break - this morning, courtesy of my daughter - I shattered, too.

I yelled at her, and cried openly in front of her, hoping that she would cry.

I wanted her to feel as miserable as I did ...

....not so that she'd feel guilty ...

....but that I wouldn't be alone in feeling miserable.

It didn't work - she's too smart to fall for my manipulative tricks. She kicked my head as I mopped up porcelain with a wet paper towel, and kept asking for "juice."

So I'm now one saucer short of a tea set (not a metaphor) and still down in the dumps (a metaphor).

poetry corner: [untitled]

2009-04-02T23:23:00.001-04:00

i have always been
an "i'm fine"-er,
answering the question
with a barely considered
mostly untrue
"I'm fine."

and lately it seems
that i'm no longer
getting asked this question:
"How are you?"

do people no longer
care to know
this about me?

do people assume the
answer
before i even say it?

did i spend too much time
recuperating and
feeding my baby -
days full of television
and being touched
and not doing anything
for me -
saying that nothing was going on
because it wasn't going on
for me

so that now,
when i'm trying to make things
happen ...
when i'm trying to
get myself back ...
when i'm really wanting
to be
SOMEONE
to be
LAUREN
to be
SEPARATE and ALONE ...

...

i'm not even worth asking after?

a return to form?

2009-03-27T01:05:00.001-04:00

Once again, I'm changing horses mid-stream, or some other equestrian/aquatic metaphor, and scrapping the "Dessert of the Week" feature. I'm trying to LOSE WEIGHT, after all, and making delicious desserts won't help me to achieve this goal.

But then, I'm not helping myself to achieve this goal, either. I'm eating a little better, but not that much. That seems to be the M.O. all around for me these days ... no real striving for new things, just a slight push in certain directions to be better at/with the things I already do.

Did that last sentence make ANY SENSE???

This is what happens when I don't blog for three weeks; I lose my literary skills and nonsense-write all over the place.

Or maybe these staccato graphs and fanciful phrasings should suggest to me to bust out the poetry again? I was, after all, a poet for years and years and years, and more successful at that than anything. The reviewing came much later, and only after pushing and kneading my words into a mold so I'd know how to use it and how (later) to break it. Poetry has always been easy for me.

I guess I'd stopped writing poetry because it always came from a place of mental/emotional unease and longing, and I stopped being uneasy and no longer longed after marriage. But now I yearn for mundane things like birthday cake on Thursday afternoons at the office, shopping in stores with stairs, and staying asleep for hours at a time.

Is there poetry in the mundane-ities? There certainly seems to be. Writing verse won't get me a down-payment on a house, or a job, or accolades, or anything tangible and praise-worthy and self esteem-replenishing ... It won't even make me feel better about what I don't have; putting wants into words reminds me that I'm wanting.

But maybe it'll make me feel like an artist again. It would be good for me to step out of the Mommy shell for a few and be my own free spirit again - even if it's in a corner of a page in the back of a long-ago-purchased composition book.

Or even in a blog post!

Dessert of the Week

2009-03-03T17:26:00.003-05:00

Over the past few weeks, I've had a yearning to make a bar cookie. They've always been a little exotic to me, as my mom didn't make them (except for brownies), and I've never really made them (except, again, for brownies).

So, this morning, I went through my Betty Crocker Cooky Book to find a recipe that would make use of some of the nuts (almonds, walnuts, macadamia nuts, coconut) in my cabinet.

I thought, "A bar cookie would be nice."

And then I made ... brownies - or, rather, BLONDIES.

(left: the finished product; right: the recipe book, brownies/blondies, and a big glass of milk!)

The recipe is for Butterscotch-Coconut Brownies, but there is no chocolate here. These are some chewy, delicious cookies - my only complaint being that I wish they weren't so thin.

The nearest online representation to my recipe is this link at Epicurious.com; in place of the chopped nuts, use fine or medium shredded unsweetened coconut.

In my version, the milk is omitted, the vanilla is taken down to 1/2 t., the flour used is 3/4 c., and the dry ingredients (excluding the nuts) are sifted before they are added. The cooking instructions and temperature are the same.

Enjoy!!!

Dessert of the Week

2009-02-27T17:17:00.000-05:00

Okay, it's been a few weeks since the first installment of the series ... but I haven't really made dessert during that time. Well, I made a delicious butter cake from my Julia Child cookbook for Valentine's Day, but I didn't want to spend the time on such a romantic night to take photos. Besides, I had two pieces of filet mignon to cook! :)

This week's dessert was ...

Glazed Chocolate-Pumpkin Bundt Cake!
(click on title for recipe)

I bookmarked this recipe ages ago while looking for a Bundt cake recipe, and happened upon it again the other day while preparing to have a friend over for lunch. It's one of those recipes that has some specialty ingredients that you don't always keep stocked in your pantry/fridge (pumpkin puree, buttermilk), but I just happened to have.

Well, except for whole wheat flour - I used regular flour. (I did have whole wheat flour for bread-baking at one time, but must've thrown it out.)

Oh, and apparently I'd run out of GRANULATED SUGAR (an unforgivable sin for a baker!) - I used 3/4 cup of honey and used 1/4 cup less buttermilk.

This cake was ... INTERESTING ... The flavor kind of grows on you. I guess I'm not that crazy about the chocolate/pumpkin combo, which I was trying for the first time here. I'd have rather had a pumpkin pie and a chocolate cake rather than meshing the two together.

But it's (supposedly) kind of a healthy cake, so there's something to be said for that. It's also dense, but without feeling heavy on your stomach.

I plan on using some of the rest of my buttermilk on my famous chocolate cake next week, which is actually a Hershey's recipe that I stumbled upon almost two decades ago (as a pre-teen) and have been making at least once a year ever since. And for someone like me, who is an unabashed polygamist when it comes to recipes, that's saying something. :)

Bonus: Dinner, Too!

2009-02-09T22:10:00.009-05:00

I had to create another post after eating one of the more surprisingly good meals of my life:

Beef Cottage Cheese Pie
(click the title for the recipe)

The recipe sounds really odd, but I swear, if you love things in pie crusts and meatloaf, you will love this recipe. It's certainly "comfort food," but more balanced and heartier than that term implies.

I'm already looking forward to leftovers for tomorrow's lunch!

Dessert of the Week

2009-02-09T15:24:00.009-05:00

Since I love to bake, salivate over the photos in other people's blogs, and write in my own blog (despite the evidence to the contrary), I've decided to have a go at posting weekly photos of things I've made.

Today it was my grandmother's recipe for Plum Torte:

The cake has a lightness reminiscent of angel food, but with more of a crispy bite at the edges, and a strong buttery/sugary profile. Halved plums are placed on the top before baking, and the cake underneath those pieces is a little moister and almost underdone. Delicious!

I'd like to work on this recipe to elevate it from its "good-looking comfort food" status. Maybe some ginger and slivered almonds? I'll have to think about it.

To-Do List (2009)

2008-12-31T18:45:00.000-05:00

finish my 30 Rock spec script in time for the Scriptapalooza deadline in April
neaten up the house
sign up Audrey for a class
slim down in time for this year's weddings (May and June)
learn to cook healthier, quicker, and cheaper meals
make some things from the Julia Child book
make more Audrey videos
audition for SOMETHING this year (was going to try out for COMPANY in April, but just realized that one of the weddings - my cousin's - is during the first weekend of the run ... d'oh!)
kick more ass
take more names
try to be awesomer
appreciate my husband and daughter more fully and more often

Happy N-Y, Internet!

busy days

2008-12-17T17:37:00.000-05:00

When I was trying to become pregnant, my only thought was that I wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible, and to deliver a healthy baby.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was ecstatic, of course, and, doing the math, realized that my due date would be around January 14th. A little close to the holidays, I thought, but not too bad. Hey, maybe she'll be born on MLK Jr. Day - that would be pretty cool.

As we got into the early days of December and the baby "dropped" into place (albeit wrong-way-up), I had a feeling that the baby would come by the end of December.

That day was December 26th, to be precise.

So instead of spending this month doing the normal XMAS/Hanukkah shopping and planning, I had to add a first birthday party into the mix. Granted, it's a relatively (and relative-y) small affair, but since it's me, it's a lu'au party with festive decorations and pulled pork and at least 8 3/4 of the 9 yards that crazy people like me "go" in situations like this.

And did I mention that I'm making Beef Wellington and Trifle the night before for dinner?

Oh, and that we'll be spending the first half of 12/25 in Connecticut and then on trains to get back to Forest Hills?

People tell me, "You must be so stressed!" And I guess I should be, but I'm not. (Well, not today - ask me again next week.)

After all, the whole point of the holidays is to near-kill yourself with too much to do/shop for/bake/decorate/mail out. If you're not running yourself ragged for your friends and loved ones, then you just don't care enough.

But that's my standard for myself, you see. I'd never blame anyone else for taking shortcuts. It's simply not in my DNA to do.

This is one of the reasons why "Semi-Homemade Queen" Sandra Lee is my nemesis. But that's for another blog.

shopper-to-english dictionary

2008-12-05T19:30:00.000-05:00

Dear Shopkeepers/Retail Clerks of Forest Hills (and occasionally Manhattan):

In the interest of clarity, time-saving, goodwill towards men and all that (ho-ho-ho!), please look over the following conversational tid-bits that I utter whilst browsing so that you may better understand their/my meaning:

"This is cute, Auds!" [as muttered to my daughter]
(I can't believe someone would buy a Burberry coat for their toddler! I'm shocked at the price, but I'm trying to mask my surprise in idle conversation. Please do not approach me about this garment; I'm not interested.)

"I'm not sure I need so much/that size ..."
(Can you show me something smaller and cheaper? I'm not made of money.)

"I'm looking for a gift for a wedding/birthday/shower."
(I'm killing time in your store, but since you won't leave me alone, I'm making up that I'm shopping for something which is really far in the future so I don't look like a vagrant. Note that I'm not fabricating the event, but the time frame in which I have to shop for it.)

"I'll have to talk it over with my husband"
(This is pricier than I imagined it would be, and I wish I hadn't shown so much interest so as to give you false hope. I am using my spouse as an excuse for leaving without buying anything.)

"I'm just starting to look for [insert piece of furniture]" or "I'm still pricing out [insert piece of furniture]"
(I'm absolutely not going to buy this from you today, so stop hovering. This is usually said right before I leave.)

Enjoy the holidays, and much success with your [other] customers!

xoxo Lauren

Lessons Learned While Cooking: The Lasagna Edition

2008-11-19T00:06:00.000-05:00

Bacon does not taste good in lasagna. I know that this contradicts the Culinary Golden Rule ("Bacon makes everything better"), but it overpowers the noodle/sauce concoction. If you want pig in your party, go with pork sausage instead.
Bechamel sauce, on the other hand, tastes OUTSTANDING in lasagna. In fact, I may never make a lasagna again without it. I used it along with shredded mozzarella and parmesan, omitting the ricotta/egg, and - though I looooove the velvety smoothness that is ricotta cheese - I did not miss the R stuff at all. AT ALL. Seriously.

BTW, this really isn't a food blog. However, as I'm doing so much cooking these days, there will undoubtedly be a lot of food talk going on around here. Hope you can, um, stomach it.

some tree-hugging business

2008-11-15T13:41:00.001-05:00

I was watching an episode of Good Eats just now, which gave tips on how to create a good Turkey Day stuffing, and the always informative Alton Brown introduced me to a product that tugged at my eco-friendly heartstrings.

They are reusable produce bags made of organic cotton. So instead of taking those hard-to-open, filmy bags for your onions and garlic, which you only have to throw away before you put the veggies in your fridge, you can corral your purchases in one of these handy little numbers. Easier for you, easier on the Earth - I loved it, and had to buy some!

Before clicking to confirm the order, I made sure to do a little internet search to see if there were any coupons - a MUST if you're shopping at a site for the first time, as there's almost always a coupon for the using. And I found one: if you use code f70838, you'll save 20% on your order through 4/2/09. Sweet, right?

Besides the bags, they also sell Klean Kanteen reusable bottles, which are made of stainless steel and are a great alternative to the BPA- and germ-ridden plastic ones. They offer lunch box-sized ones for the kids, if you don't want to waste money and paper with juice boxes. I've already requested the sippy cup version as a holiday present for the kid.

If you're already thinking of XMAS/Chanukah presents, why not spend your green on some green goods this year? Your planet will thank you. :)

Another culinary detour

2008-11-12T22:29:00.002-05:00

For the love of your tastebuds (and the destruction of your arteries), you must make this recipe on a cold night when you need some rich, beer-y food in your belly:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/steak-and-ale-recipe/index.html

Just served it up for the husband and me ... Oh my, you can taste the stick of butter in there. I used fresh thyme instead of dried, and the sauce was so earthy and rich. It came together pretty quickly, and I cooked it all in my cast iron pan.

Hey, sometimes the English DO know what they're doing in the kitchen. This is proof!

Okay, okay ...

2008-11-06T14:50:00.002-05:00

You may see the flashy Amazon link in the sidebar and cry, "Sell-out!"

This is why I done what I done:

My family buys stuff through Amazon regularly. If we use that click-thru link, we'll get 4% back. That's useful coin in this tough economic climate.
Years ago, I used to have a Nichols and May website with a similar banner. It earned me a bit of money back in the day. As one of the income-less, it seemed like a good idea.
Um, we just moved to a more expensive place, remember???

So, quit your name-calling (which doesn't hurt a bit!), and buy your books and DVDs through my link already, 'kay? ;)

Pumpkin Pie: A Photo Essay

2008-10-31T13:37:00.003-04:00

This is how you make pumpkin pie from scratch:

(Note: some steps omitted.)

Although the recipe is for a pie, it's baked in a loose-bottomed tart pan; I used a springform, which may or may not be the same thing. Now, I feel it needs to be said that the things that I bake usually turn out prettier, but this is the first time baking in the new oven, which actually runs - no joke - 50 degrees cold! There is a thermometer in there just to let you know how badly it works.

I discovered the severity of the problem most of the way through, and had to bake the pie for much longer than recommended. Fortunately, I decided to par-bake the crust instead of making it "crisp and golden" as per the recipe, so the crust is great. (What you see on the side is caramelized pumpkin.)

Despite the issues, this thing tastes FANTASTIC. It's haunted me ever since I tried a slice last night. The recipe's from a book called Easy as Apple Pie, which I got as a freebie while working at Borders. The recipe skips the sweetened condensed milk in favor of heavy cream, corn syrup, and brown sugar - and it's that last ingredient that really makes it memorable. Also, the crust has a full cup of unsalted butter, plus some confectioner's sugar, to make it a rich, shortbread-y delight.

If I have the time, and if people are interested, I'll post the recipe later.

Happy Halloween!

We're in!

2008-10-21T16:05:00.001-04:00

So much to do ...

So much I've done in the last 24 hours ...

But we're at the new house, and I can't believe how much space there is! :D

Painting ...

2008-10-20T01:23:00.001-04:00

....is done. - At least for now; I have to repaint a small section of the nursery as the owner's kid drew something on the wall, and I chose to try to cover it with paint instead of Magic Eraser-ing it first. (I'm not sure if I'll try ME-ing it now, or use a stain-covering substance my mom was talking about.)

Packing is almost done. SURPRISINGLY almost done. There are a few boxes to pack tomorrow night/Tuesday morning, which need to be completed at the tenth hour (instead of the eleventh, you see), but the situation's under control.

I've cleaned the kitchen, and will do a clean of the bathroom tomorrow. Then on Tuesday, a wipe around some fixtures, and a circuit with the vacuum, and the apartment is security deposit-ready. (Normally, I would stress more about the post-move clean, but this place was a D-U-M-P when we moved in, and any cleaning job I do will be better than is deserved.)

This has been planned and stressed about for a month, and, finally, it's all coming together. I'm having those "the last time I ____ while living here" moments, like it's a job that I'm leaving. Today's the last Sunday at the place - which is a great one to celebrate, actually, as, next week, we won't have to worry about keeping our voices down during football games while the baby's trying to nap. And by "we," I mean Chris. ;)

So tired right now. Time to shower and sleep, and prepare for the day ahead. It'll be a rough day, what with little errands to run and Audrey and I both having a cold. (With her runny nose and watery eyes, she's so cute, and so miserable, at the same time. It's heartbreakingly sweet and sad!) But, of course, I have to savor the last Sunday I stay up way too late at the old apartment.

Painting ...

2008-10-13T22:03:00.000-04:00

....is supposed to take longer than you think. I get that.

But THREE FRIGGIN' COATS for the trim on two rooms? Are you kidding me?

I've been working my tuchus off every day since Friday, putting in 5-8 hours at the new house prepping, painting, and cleaning up, and then another 3+ hours at home, packing boxes. On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights, I was in so much pain that I had to pop some Ibuprofen just to take off enough edge so I could sleep. We're talking a sore-from-my-shoulder-to-my-wrist arm, achy back, heavy-squatting-type strain in my thighs and tired feet. Each morning I moved around like a hip-replacement candidate until I walked long enough to get limber.

For the rest of this week (as in, through Saturday), I have to go to the house every day to get a coat of paint on a part of some room. It wouldn't take this long normally, but I can only do so much with the kid in tow. (Thank goodness she's not crawling yet, so I can sit her on a blanket and she'll engross herself in her plastic shape sorter and Elmo books.)

I understand that this is all stuff that I'm bringing on myself ... I was the one who found the new place. I pushed to move, agreeing to do the lion's share (read: all) of the packing. I had the idea to paint the study and the nursery. I decided to paint the trim in those rooms so that it worked with our furniture. (To be fair, the trim was a medium gray, which clashed not only with our furniture, but the honey-colored wood floor. I have no idea what the owners were thinking, combining such a cold, modern color with a warm wood - but then, there's a lot of that in this house.)

And I knew that this month, and the last three weeks in particular, would really suck. After all of this current work, and the packing, and the cleaning up of our current place, I'll have to unpack, and go room by room, cleaning and fixing various dirty and/or crazy things in the new place. Fortunately, we're locked in for two years, so by the time we hit 2009, I should be settled and happy.

Once the house projects are done, I guess the next project is to save up $120K so we can make a down payment on this place and never have to move again! ;) That requires my getting a job, or winning the lottery, or inheriting money, or writing a few screenplays, or a combination of the four.

In any case, I'll be needing a certain amount of luck. If you get a chance, wish me some. Or put me in your will - whichever you feel more comfortable doing.

reviewing reviewing

2008-10-10T00:00:00.000-04:00

Though I'm semi-retired from criticism these days, I did want to spotlight a brilliant production that I just saw ... more than a decade late.

I'm referring to Matthew Bourne's Nutcracker!, a vivid, sexy, dangerous version of the old Tchaikovsky chestnut that I caught some of, and ended up DVRing, on the Ovation Channel. (I'd never heard of that station, either; the title of the show caught my eye while channel-surfing.)

Now, I'm not really a fan of "the dance" - it's pretty, but it often takes a long time to tell a short story. (Side note: My husband laughs at the fact that, when I watch musicals, I'll fast-forward through the dance sequences at the FF speed where you can see everything but it moves more rapidly. I have no patience for movement in real time.) In particular, I don't care for modern dance. Any time I see print ads for Alvin Ailey et al., with beautiful lithe people wrapped in skin tone spandex and wrapped around each other, I gawk at their nude-ish hard bodies and turn the page.

However, The Nutcracker has always held a special place in my heart. My mother took me to see it every year, for the better part of my childhood, at the Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, NJ. I used to be able to hear a musical phrase and know what was going on during the performance. During those years I was also taking dance classes, and performed in the Mother Ginger and her children sequence in one of my recitals. Despite the fact that I did (and do) lack physical fluidity and grace, I dreamed of playing Clara. Fortunately, we figured out that my talents lay in acting, and not dance, and so my hopes were never dashed, but displaced.

Having a thorough knowledge and intense fondness for the Balanchine way of nutcracking makes one appreciate the novelty of Matthew Bourne's version. As they say (and say and say), this ain't yo grandma's Nutcracker. This isn't your little girl's version, either. It's very dark, sensual, and sad. It requires more emotions that you're used to expressing during this (usually) frothy piece, but the performers meet you halfway by providing their own. -Now, the term "performers" really has to be used here because to refer to them simply as "dancers" would undervalue the emoting that goes on even in the secondary roles.

The camerawork helps you to appreciate and connect as well, with gratuitous and judicious use of close-ups to make you forget that you're watching a performance on a proscenium stage on your television set. The editing is invisible in the sense that it's so good it goes unnoticed.

Instead of a bourgeois drawing room filled with present-hungry tykes in Christmas finery, the show opens on an orphanage filled with attention-hungry teens dressed in dingy white shifts. Clara is not the star of the show, but, in fact, struggles to be heard, even in her own dream. And this dream is no snow-dappled, candy-colored, girly dream of royal courts and exotic performers. This is a sticky wet dream of cool confections draping themselves in limbs and licking the sweet off each other. There is a wedding, but it's not the one you'd hope for - unless you're rooting for Clara's rival, Princess Sugar, who snags Clara's man/Nutcracker. (Don't worry, things look up once Clara wakes up.)

In the dream world of Sweetieland, the costuming is just as dazzling as the dancing. Over-the-top colors and silhouettes are used, from a trio of Gobstoppers that are a cross between Vyvyan from The Young Ones and the mod bikers of Quadrophenia (they performed during the Russian dance) to a gaggle of pink-fringed society ladies that bob along hilariously to the Chinese Tea dance. The gentleman performing the Arabian dance wears a slick suit and a cherry on top - that is, his hair is a dollop of vanilla soft-serve with a maraschino kicker.

And then there's the dancing. It was a mash-up of balletic, modern, and frenetic movement that blended together so naturally, and was so tailored to the characters, and was telling the story! Everything was so precise, but there was no calculated feel to it. I fear that I lack the proper vocabulary to do it justice. The highest praise that I can bestow is that it was purposeful, revealed plot and characterization, and I didn't fast-forward once!

If you're interested in checking it out, there are clips on Matthew Bourne's website for the production. You can also buy it on Amazon, or maybe catch it on the Ovation Channel if you have Time Warner Cable.

-Don't worry, I'm sure the next post will be all about the baby again. ;)

that time of the month

2008-10-07T18:19:00.001-04:00

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Will I do it? Do I dare?

I've started this in two separate years - 2001 and 2002, I think - and both times I didn't get very far. Those attempts were ages ago, pre-baby, pre-marriage, pre-everything that is wonderful and cool in my life. Now I'm a lot busier, and a lot more self-aware.

I've always said that there's a novel in me. But while I enjoy reading both personal essays and novels, I'm not sure I could really write either one. The personal stuff is too -well, you know the adjective I'm getting at here. As for novels, for some reason, I'm not too interested in creating a new character. (And you wonder why I stopped improvising ...)

So I guess I'll keep it in the back of my mind, and maybe remember again on November 3rd, like every year, and go back and forth again about starting it. I'll write for a few days, then forget for a week, realize that I can't catch up and that I'm not crazy about what I've started writing, and drop it.

Every November, I'm reminded of how much I want to write, how much I don't like writing, and what failure feels like. Ah, Fall!

my saturday nights

2008-10-04T23:47:00.001-04:00

What I did tonight:

fed/bathed/fed Audrey & put her in her crib for the night
took a box of freezer burnt pierogis, some onion slices, butter and olive oil and made dinner for myself
went through 11 days of receipts and recorded them in the bank register
went through two months of bank statements and reconciled the bank register
did dishes
played Snood for twenty minutes
wrote a blog entry

What you did tonight:

probably something much awesomer

Enjoy the no-kid zone while you can, young people. Life gets real boring real fast. ;)

obsession of the day

2008-10-02T00:00:00.000-04:00

You knew that it was only a matter of time before I made a video of my adorable daughter, right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqHbaH3i88I

She's asleep now, and, when she's asleep, I miss her. Now I can get my Audrey fix any time I want. The same goes for her grandparents, aunts and uncles - which is why I created this in the first place. :)

housewife geek

2008-09-27T23:26:00.002-04:00

It used to be that women were expected to be housewives and mothers, and to take an interest and pride in what they do. Then came women's lib, and the rise of the working mother. Suddenly, staying at home was not living up to your potential, it was laziness, it was shameful.

Well, guess what? I'm a housewife, I love it, and I'm pretty awesome at it.

I like to figure out what to make for dinner, and to find recipes that my husband likes.
I could happily spend all of my free time in the aisles of Williams Sonoma, Bed Bath and Beyond, the Container Store and Home Depot - especially if I have gift cards or store credit!
Recently, I found blue Thanksgiving china at HomeGoods, and have had my mom on a quest to find service for 12. (I'm currently 2 large dinner plates and 8 bowls shy.) Now all I need is a dinette set, a large serving platter and a gravy boat, and I can host Thanksgiving.
I'm excited about the prospect of hosting Thanksgiving!
I have subscriptions to Real Simple, Martha Stewart Living and Domino magazines.
Sometimes I'll search through several days of programming on the Food Network and HGTV for shows to record.

There's nothing wrong with not wanting a high-powered career. I've had fun at work, and have had moments of satisfaction, but 9 to 5 were never my best hours. I make more of a difference in this world by staying home with my beautiful genius daughter and having a kind word for the guys at the fish market or the stressed-out young cashiers at the supermarket than I've ever made taking tuition at an acting school, or renting studio space to Broadway producers, or answering phones for advertising firms.

Some people are movie geeks. Some people are British comedy geeks. Some people are scifi geeks. I'm all of those, but I'm also a housewife geek. And damn proud.

Time to sign off - those dishes in the sink aren't going to wash themselves.

*****

UPDATE: While I was doing those dishes, I thought of a few more things:

I love baking. No, I love-love-love baking. No matter how many times I tell this to my in-laws, they don't understand it, and always think I'm putting myself through unnecessary trouble. It's no trouble - I LOVE BAKING.
Last year I was in rhapsody over a blue-banded lions head soup tureen I scored at 70% off from Williams Sonoma. It's truly beautiful. I must serve soup at my future Thanksgivingses.
One of the best gifts I've received over the last few years was from my younger brother, who decided to repay me in missed gifts (wedding, birthdays, XMAS) by buying me a cobalt blue KitchenAid mixer. It's stunning.
I haven't yet bought a napkin holder because I have the perfect one in my head and I haven't yet found it.
I have made a small quilt, and, once I have time to cut out squares again, I will use the fabric sitting in a bag in my closet and make a quilt for my daughter.

Truly, the list of my homemaking turn-ons is endless.

Maybe I should end my manifesto with a mantra?

How about:

"I am housewife, hear me vacuum."

(That sounds sexist, but I'm a housewife, so I can get away with it.)

We're MOVING!

2008-09-21T20:24:00.001-04:00

Did you see the title? It's totally true, we are moving ...

....from our two-bedroom, one-bathroom crappy apartment in Forest Hills ...

....to a (rented) two-bedroom, two-bathroom, TWO-STORY house in Forest Hills! [happy-style emoticon!]

We will now have:

a bedroom that's across the hall from our daughter's room (instead of sharing a wall)
a second bathroom for guests (fancy!)
stairs (I'm losing the rest of my baby weight just thinking about 'em)
no upstairs/downstairs neighbors (I like our current upstairs neighbors, but could do without the college kid downstairs blasting his video games at 1am)
an office to house our desk and endless bookshelves (again, fancy!)
a living room that's large enough to house our couch/TV/DVD shelves AND a dining table (fancy to the extreme!)
a living room with windows and light (we're on the first floor, but we have no LR windows; sometimes it feels like we live in a hole in the ground)
trick-or-treaters at Halloween (Yay! Oh, wait, that means I have to give out the candy I always buy "just in case." Not so "yay.")
an attic for storage (I know, right?)
a washer/dryer (Now I can wash out our bedding and towels as often as I'm supposed to, according to my allergist.)
a beautiful new kitchen with a granite counter top! [drooling happy emoticon]

We've just signed the lease today, and handed over a lot of coin in checks, but it'll be worth it when we're set up and comfy and livin' large for the next two years - or more, assuming we re-up.

Of course, apres ce soir, le deluge ...

We have to tell our landlord that we're not renewing. I hate break-ups, and this feels like one.

We have to pack. Weren't we miserable dealing with packing a year ago, back when we had significantly less stuff and no baby (I was six months pregnant)? Yes, we were absolutely miserable. Now we have to do all that again, though at least it's a seven-minute drive between places (20 minutes if you walk it), instead of a Manhattan-to-Queens schlep.

I'm excited, but it's tough to be very excited when you know that you have a shitty 5-6 weeks in front of you.

-During college, I developed a coping mechanism for those times when I'd be carrying overstuffed grocery bags back to my apartment. My arms hurt, my hands hurt, and I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to handle my assorted aches and pains. But I thought to myself, "At some point in the future - say, 10 minutes from now - I'll be home, the groceries will be in the fridge, I'll be able to sit and relax and my current discomfort will be over." So I trudged on, remembering that there was an end point to what I was feeling, and knowing that I was moving closer to it.

What is my end point?

It's October 31st. Chris is watching TV in the living room, Audrey is in her playard, and I'm cooking dinner. Everything is unpacked and in its place. Everything in the kitchen is easy to reach, and everyone has room. The oven is on, but it's not hot in the kitchen because we have the windows cracked and there's cross-ventilation. (Also, the range hood vents outside!)

The doorbell rings, and I walk towards the front of the house, peering through the curtains in the front window, which is plastered in black bats. I open the door, am greeted by a chorus of "trick or treats" from Hannah Montanas and Kung Fu Pandas, chuck some Nestle Crunches and 3 Musketeers in plastic hollowed-out pumpkins (or whatever the kids use these days), and shut the door.

This scene will come in time. For now, gotta keep my head down and keep on trudgin'.

[sigh]

2008-09-04T21:32:00.000-04:00

So I lasted one whole week of not checking anything - in which I put pictures in Audrey's baby book, mailed photos of her for possible print work, and did a rough draft of the first scene of my 30 ROCK spec script for Scriptapalooza - and then broke down and started reading things every few days.

And then once a day.

And then back to old levels, which I shan't divulge out of shame.

I have no will power, you see. That's what always stopped me from having career success, a gym membership that paid for itself, and an eating disorder. Oh, the things I haven't done!

So I'll try to disappear again, and get that script done, and make you guys proud of me.

end of [these] days

2008-08-24T11:58:00.000-04:00

This blog is going to go dark for a while (not like it was very bright these days) while I sort out some stuff.

Last night I realized that I've been spending too much of my time with the web-surfing and the social networking sites - mostly the latter. I like to find out how people I know or have known are doing, and what they're up to. Not that I want to reconnect, or even hang out once, just read about it.

This is what defines me, what has defined me since the beginning ... I'm not a doer, I'm a watcher. My favorite past-times for most of my life have been watching TV/movies/plays, reading, playing video games, and acting. These are not things that you do to complement a full life; these are things that you do to escape an incomplete one.

By following up with people, I'm not trying to live vicariously through them, I'm just collecting the information to flesh out their story arcs. Then I can finish the story, put the book down, and never read it again.

But the part of it that's most destructive is that I feel that nobody cares about what I'm doing. I'm reaching out, and nobody's reaching to me. And, really, why should they? I don't even care about what I'm doing. If I did, I wouldn't spend so much time not doing it.

So I've cancelled my Friendster and MySpace profiles. (My husband didn't want me to cancel Facebook, so I'm just taking an extended hiatus.) I'm no longer going to be following up on your shows or your kids or your personal dramas. Good luck with all of them - and I mean that, I want only the best for everyone - but handle it without me.

The idea is that the next time that I write here, I'll be writing about the good things I've done in my absence. On my computer's hard drive, there are unfinished plays, scripts, and even a few books. They deserve my time and attention. I deserve my time and attention. This - all this - does not.

i heart photoshop

2008-08-18T15:59:00.001-04:00

Lookie here! Now my blog has a fancy new header, which is a total overcompensation for the lack of content/posting these days ...

The posts should start appearing more frequently now that my daughter's become a fan of playing within the confines of her playpen, and as I start yearning more and more for creative outlets.

But I won't be blogging today, of course - I spent my available time making the blog header. ;)

yes, I'm still here ...

2008-04-30T00:39:00.000-04:00

Two words: Super Star.

Two more words: Clingy kid.

Six more words: I'm not getting any writing done.

Six words to end it: I don't mind it so much.

another missive from the other side

2008-04-09T16:44:00.001-04:00

So, what have I been doing with my time and vast theater knowledge these days?

Well, the time is spent taking care of a baby for 12-14 hours, and then missing her as soon as she's fallen asleep - at which point I shower, watch a TV show or two, and, for some reason, make my way to bed 4+ hours later. Granted, I do have internet time during the day - like now, when she's taking a nap, or if she's contented rocking in a chair or on a play mat. This isn't really enough quality time to crack open a book or write a long-neglected spec script, but, hopefully, one day it will be. It's taking all of my concentration to pound out a 300-word blog, for Pete's sake!

As for my theater knowledge, it's come in handy while singing lullabies to my daughter and pointing out the inaccuracies in the Bob Fosse-type character from the recent Simpsons episode, "Smoke on the Daughter." (As Chazz Busby slunk out of the auditorium and onto a bus, his posture was accurate but his hands moved too much. Fosse was all about minimalism, and subtle but emphatic hand gestures on the down beat. The down beat, Matt Groening and co.!)

Here's my list so far of effective lullabies, as culled from musical theater:

"Little Lamb" (Gypsy)
"Love Makes the World Go 'Round" (Carnival)
"Feed the Birds"/"Stay Awake" (Mary Poppins)
"Goodnight My Someone"/"Will I Ever Tell You" (The Music Man)
"If I Loved You" (Carousel)
"Where is Love?" (Oliver!)
"Everything's Alright" (Jesus Christ Superstar)
"O Mio Babbino Caro" (Gianni Schicchi) - well, opera is the precursor to the modern musical

I'd love to work in some Gilbert and Sullivan, but I'm still getting my lyric soprano high notes back after not using them for a few years. Anyway, it's difficult to sing very high notes quietly enough for the song to still have the desired soporific effect.

It's gradually occurring to me that there's really no chance of my getting my life back so much as getting another life in exchange. A life full of trying to be a good mom and an interesting person without letting one identity sabotage the other. Right now, I have to focus mainly on the mommying until I get that down, so I can work on drawing out what remains of the person I used to be.

Or, I have to have the choreography ingrained in my muscle memory so that I can get back to the acting. Theater can be used as a metaphor for everything, huh?

[almost] two months later...

2008-03-20T10:05:00.004-04:00

Look at this face. Look at the expression and the emotion behind it. Can you blame me for getting little else done besides getting dressed, taking care of her and cooking the occasional meal?

If she is as good with words as she is with looks - and I'm sure she will be, if the "I will be heard!" tone of her babbling coos is any indication - well, we'll have another performer in the family.

Imagine that: A dancer/actress/choral singer/improviser/opera singer/sketch comedienne mom and a stand-up comedian/improviser/sketch comedian dad produces an entertainer. Not to be crass, but it's the best way to put it ... This baby shits showbiz.

BTW, for any theater folk reading this, it looks like I'm turning my back on arts journalism - if not for good, at least for a good while. Television's in my blood, always has been. My DDJ ("dream day job") right now is to be on staff for "30 Rock", commuting to Silvercup with the kid in tow, bringing the wackiness as Audrey lives it up in the on-site daycare I'm fantasizing is there to take care of Tina Fey's kid. A few episodes under my belt and we could buy the Tudor-style, 4-bedroom, 2 or 3 bath Forest Hills (or maybe even FH Gardens) house and a hybrid car that would complete the suburbanification process.

It's crazy what a little motherhood will do...

Still recuperating ...

2008-01-26T00:26:00.000-05:00

....and by "recuperating," I mean feeding and changing the baby (see above), sleeping, and watching an enormous amount of mediocre sitcoms.

I do love me some mediocre sitcoms. While I'd definitely consider myself a sophisticate in terms of comedy taste, I also have a fondness for generic shows from the 80s and 90s. Kinda like those gourmet chefs who love McDonalds french fries, except that, to earn that comparison, I would have had to create some haute cuisine de comedie along the way. (Of course, those who have seen my 2003 Fringe show, One of the Goys - a fish-out-of-water sitcom in the Webster tradition about a Jewish boy adopted by a middle-class white gentile family named the Gentiles, and featuring a plot about a Christianity-fixated scouting troop that won't allow our hero to join - know that I am ALL ABOUT the high-brow.)

Keep in mind that when you're getting 5-7 hours of sleep per night, divvied up into three segments, shows like Full House, The Nanny, and Just Shoot Me seem pretty damn subtle. When I want to step it up a bit, I get my dose of class from the 12 and 12:30am reruns of Frasier. ;)

In between my crappy TV watching, I've been watching two Netflix DVDs a week. Lately it's been the final season of Slings and Arrows (which makes me desperate to be in a play just for the fun of it, rather than as a vehicle for any type of career advancement), and movies that I should've seen but have never done so. The latter category is made up mostly of musicals, famous 80s movies, and several Brit-coms.

One of these days, I swear I'll write something, besides just another blog entry about how vacuous my life has become ...

say hello to the little lady ... (not theater-related, but theatrical)

2008-01-04T15:11:00.000-05:00

December 14th: I find out the baby's in breech position. My OB schedules an external cephalic version - aka a "vigorous" (*painful*) abdominal massage to get the stubborn kiddo to move into the right position for birthin' - for December 26th. There is another week and a half for her to move on her own.

December 18th: Thought I was having contractions. Then I thought she moved. Felt differently the next day. She totally moved.

December 21st: No dice - she's as stubborn as her mom. We're going in on Boxing Day for the ECV.

December 26th (11am): An ultrasound before the ECV reveals very little amniotic fluid, which means (a) I can't have the procedure and (b) I'm gonna have a baby today. (There was only a slim chance of this, so I'm in shock. I'm 37 weeks and 2 days along, and figured I'd have at least another week before giving birth.)

December 26th (4:11pm): Audrey Grace is delivered by C-section. My legs are numb, my stomach feels like the Alice cake from the Tom Petty Don't Come Around Here No More video (or, alternately, like the Troi cake from the ST: TNG scary dream episode - was it inspired by the TP video? was it wrong to wonder what flavor it would be?) ... and, yeah, I'm weepy.

This kid is completely adorable, and, 1+ weeks later, already looks older than in the photo. Though her future in theater is uncertain, it's clear that she has the rubbery face and kooky expressions of a comedienne. (Of course, as the offspring of two people who met while performing comedy, it was fairly inevitable that she'd be funny.)

So, the hiatus from bloggery continues, as I'm not seeing any theater and not writing anything except for brief "here's a photo of the baby" emails. Once I get through uploading photos, writing thank-you notes, designing/ordering birth announcements and such, I'll try to turn my attentions back to myself - as much as I'm able to do so, that is.

2008's pretty okay; hope everyone else is enjoying it.

Nothing to post today ...

2007-11-20T14:08:00.000-05:00

...until I paid my weekly trip to the Forest Hills blogs and found this item:

http://foresthills72.blogspot.com/2007/11/actress-and-critic.html

Nothing like seeing yourself in a blog to make you feel all internet-famous for a few minutes. ;)

You know, I'd already made the decision to move to FoHilz when I found out about the Parkside Players. With its mall stores, mom-and-pop shops, community theater and easy access to Manhattan, this town's the perfect blend of city and suburban life. If I find out that there are tricky tray auctions, holiday bazaars and local Girl Scouts selling cookies outside of supermarkets, I'll truly freak out.

Sure, I miss some things from Kips Bay: the big local movie theater, the pizzeria down the street, the 24-hour bodega two doors down, the ability to walk around in Manhattan and then walk home ... But it's kinda nice to wake up and look into a backyard. I like going to the local Polish restaurant on a Saturday night and find it filled with regulars. Now that we're out of the young, white, affluent, post-collegiate ghetto that we were living in, I can relish the fact that I'm not the oldest person I see, or the one with the least hip wardrobe.

Manhattan can be awesome, but it can also wear away at your self-esteem, no matter how immune you think you are to that kind of superficial BS.

the art of the sell (out)

2007-11-13T13:29:00.000-05:00

As is generally the case, things have been quiet in my blog because things have been anything but quiet in my "real" life. The husband, cats and I moved to Forest Hills, I've been spending money at Home Depot and Bed Bath and Beyond like a drunk interior design show producer, and my body has been gradually rebelling against me as it sides with the baby in her quest for extra-uterine viability.

Today I made the decision to leave my job at the end of November instead of the second week of December. It's really bizarre to know that I have 11 days at work after today, and then I'll be a SAHM, to use the common abbreviation. (Is it just me, or does anyone else see that abbreviation and think it means "Single Asian Heterosexual Male" or some other personal ad acronym?)

I went to a play last Friday (Sister Cities at T. Schreiber Studio), but I didn't review it for any publication. The storyline wasn't my cup of tea, but, for the kind of hot-button personal issue melodrama that it was, the characters were well-developed and the dialogue crackled with realism. (The set was also spectacularly conceived and dressed. Why is the designer working off-off Broadway instead of raking in the loot by doing bigger projects?)

I'd like to think that a playwright as smart as this one penned the show more for its commercial value than its dramatic value. It's a one-set show starring five actresses - one in their mid-twenties, three in their 30s to early 40s, and one in their 60s/70s - that bursts with talent-showcasing secrets and monologues. There's a script that'll have an active life in theaters across the country! If you're going to sell out, just sell the f*ck out, you know? :)

Sometimes I think of doing that ... of writing a play that's so god-awfully commercial that I can get it published and collect some sweet royalties from community theaters across the country. Maybe there could be a festival of shows like that, like that "bad theater" festival this summer that I can't remember the name of. Imagine a series of shows tackling cancer, death, mental illness, AIDS, and the war in Iraq, and they all have monologues and minimal sets and parts for character actresses in their 30s and show-stealing turns made for grand dames in their 60s!

Is it wrong to dream about creating low art as often as dreaming about creating high art?

2007-10-09T13:26:00.000-04:00

I resigned from offoffonline yesterday, and today I'm no longer on the staff list. Harsh!

You'd think that they'd at least wait until the productions I've just reviewed have closed ...

the final two?

2007-10-09T12:21:00.000-04:00

As we theater aesthetes know, there is no specific formula for figuring out if a show is going to be a winner before you see it. It' s fairly easy to spot a dog from a mile away - a poorly written/cheesy synopsis, actors/writers/directors you think are lame and underachieving theater companies can save you from an hour or two of blah. But some shows remind me of that quote about a girl looking like a piece by a certain painter: cute from far away but ugly up close. (I'm thinking it was a Picasso, but wouldn't a painting by Seurat make more sense?)

Last week I went to see the last two shows I'm reviewing before pregnancy. They'll be the last two reviews I'll ever write for offoffonline, and, possibly, my last two reviews ever. While I wouldn't say that they were zeros, they weren't exactly perfect 10s, or even modest 7s.

offoffonline: review of Say Your Prayers, Mug!

offoffonline: review of The House of Yes

There was no guarantee that my last-ever review would be of a show that was phenomenal, but I guess I was hoping for that.

Now, this isn't to say that I won't see any more theater between now and whenever this baby decides to come. I'd really like to see Young Frankenstein, mostly because I'm a huge fan of the film rather than the fact that it'll be such a big musical to-do. Of course, with my upcoming emigration from Manhattan to Queens, and paying off debt before I stop drawing a salary, and what looks to be a month or two of griping about how huge I am and how much my back hurts, the cost of a ticket as well as the physical cost of a trip to Times Square is kinda prohibitive. (When am I gonna start getting comps to big shows already?! *jk*)

So, I'll be focusing on my Advertising Copywriting Class at NYU (through 11/8), and procrastinating about writing up a spec script for Scriptapalooza, despite the fact that I already have a great idea in outline form. I'll also read other people's reviews and miss writing them. Then I'll have to remind myself that being published means finding a show, setting aside time to see it, figuring out travel to the theater and dinner beforehand, keeping myself awake (especially tough these days), and forcing myself to write 500 words about it before too much time goes by. Laziness will beat down the pangs of nostalgia.

Happy Tuesday, everybody!

2007-10-03T11:23:00.000-04:00

As promised:

offoffonline: review of Love Sucks

Next up is The House of Yes tonight and Say Your Prayers, Mug! on Friday. Then I may or may not review next week (depending on whether or not someone takes a specific show) ... and I'm done. Perhaps forever, at least for a year. Weird to stop after 2 1/2 years, but what can you do - I certainly can't take a baby to an off-off Broadway show, that's for sure.

Anarchy in the U.S.A.

2007-09-27T11:44:00.000-04:00

I just saw LOVE SUCKS at the New York Musical Theatre Festival last night. This is a fantastic show with an excellent cast of honest-to-goodness musicians, and would be a perfect date night for the dude who loves punk and the chick who loves Shakespearean romantic comedies. (Or the punk rock girl and the chick flick-lovin' guy. Or two fellas or two ladies. It's universal, people.)

Having been in a band for several months until I was kicked out (no, not for substance abuse or inter-band promiscuity - for not being enough of a tortured soul frontwoman for them; long story), I can attest to the work you need to put in to have a tight ensemble. The show's fictional male band, the Molotovs, seemed like they'd been playing together for ages, both in their precision and their onstage camaraderie. (The Guttersnipes, which was the female band, also sounded good, and had two great singers in Rebecca Hart and Heather Robb.)

The music's catchy, the characters are endearing, the action is well-paced, and, if you're into rockers, there's a lot of foxy-looking people onstage. Go see it before they take my advice, produce a commercial off-Broadway run and charge twice as much for tickets.

I'll add a link to my review once it's up - should be in a few days.

reviews and career choices

2007-09-25T11:37:00.000-04:00

In my longest review to date, I critique Austentatious at the New York Musical Theatre Festival:

offoffonline: review of Austentatious

There isn't really anything I could write here that those 835 words didn't cover. It's amazing that, at the beginning, I had to strive to reach the site's 500-word minimum.

Unrelated note: Having a rapidly developing 24-week-old girl in one's tummy can change one's choice in periodicals. To wit, last night I bought my first issue of Time Out New York Kids, and was delighted at their Kid Confidential section.

Is it too late to change my desired occupation to princess songwriter? :)

2007-09-18T11:10:00.000-04:00

The reviewing continues this month with two NYMF shows: tonight's Austentatious and next week's Love Sucks. I've also scheduled myself to see two in October, which could run to three if nobody else on the staff picks up Blood Brothers. (I'm trying to be a good girl and stay away, which is tough, as it's got Nosedive and Vampire Cowboys folks working on it and I'm a big fan of the VCs after only one show. If those guys and Les Freres Corbusier were ever to collaborate, the resulting production would be a hedonistic delight for genre geeks like me.)

I may have to sneak in a nap before Austentatious, though. I bit the feduciary bullet and bought Season One of Heroes last night - no more waiting for the Netflix delivery! It also means, though, that I can watch episodes whenever I want. Last night I only meant to watch one, but one turned into two, and after two, I had to convince myself that staying up all night to watch more episodes would be a bad, bad idea. Six and a half hours of sleep (minus the times I got up to silence the cats, etc.) is taking its toll, and it's a pretty expensive one at that.

Today's Yahoo! Search Report

2007-09-14T15:57:00.000-04:00

If you look up Lauren Snyder critic on Yahoo! Search, I'm referenced on 8 of the first 10 listings, including the top 2. Lauren Snyder theater critic gives me all 10 of the first 10, as does Lauren Snyder new york theater. With Lauren Snyder new york critic, I fall to 5 out of 10.

Is it any wonder I keep writing reviews, even when I've said that I'm stopping? I'm hooked on the name search. I totally heart the emptiness of internet fame. Why else would I have translated a background artist credit and an internship on an indie film into an IMDB listing?

If I fail to make my mark in any meaningful way on the world, at least there will be people in the world who'll know that I was a theater critic, a comedy writer, an improvisor, a film critic, an actress, a Penn State theater student and the winner of a virtual award for Monty Python-themed haiku (guess that link's dead - well, it's been 10 years).

By the way, I'm open to taking requests from people looking for funny or dark one-acts or short festival pieces, particularly if you're providing a theme, specific writing limitations (characters, setting, etc.), and/or a hard and fast deadline. I've always been more productive when working this way. Maybe I should just buy one of those cheesy writing exercise books and go to town.

Totally unrelated to theater or writing, but ...

2007-09-10T10:30:00.000-04:00

I'm completely, totally, utterly in love. The object of my affection is Heroes.

Why did I wait so long to get with you, baby? I heard about you last summer, and I just wasn't ready to commit back then. I was wasting my time with cheap flings like CSI and Two and a Half Men, and going through a rough patch with my other sweetheart, LOST.

But then I met you through Netflix last week, and you showed me what I've been missing all year. I only hope that, by the time I get to disc 7, you'll still be the same series I know and love right now.

xoxo Lauren

PS: Is it cool if I still see LOST and Doctor Who? I swear I have enough attention to go around.

required viewing

2007-09-03T01:04:00.000-04:00

Tonight I took advantage of Turner Classic Movies on Demand and caught up on some films I've been meaning to see. The first was Kiss Me Kate, starring Howard Keel, Kathryn Grayson, and that musical theater dynamo Ann Miller. One of Bianca's suiters was played by Bob Fosse, who mostly did the waltz-y dancing of Hermes Pan except for his last number, when he totally Fosse-d the crap out of the sequence. Yes, I know for a fact that the guy was an asshole and a womanizer, but shit, could he move. He's in a rarefied group with Gene Kelly and Prince as guys who dance gracefully but are utterly masculine even in delicate movement.

The other film was Please Don't Eat the Daisies, which I felt I had to see as a Doris Day fan and a theater critic. In the movie, based on a book by Jean (wife of theater critic Walter) Kerr, David Niven plays a professor turned play reviewer - one of the top seven in NYC, as a matter of fact. He lives in a large two-bedroom apartment with a chic address, and eats at Sardi's all of the time. Perhaps I shouldn't power down my critical career if success means a Manhattan apartment with a doorman and an elevator and constantly eating at see-and-be-seen places ... :)

His dramatic arc was that, though he got into reviewing because he loved plays, he became more fond of being cruel and penning poisonous critiques full of mean-spirited jokes. When people started telling him that he was now feared, and that he'd made a playwright quit the profession, Niven's character was scared straight, folks! Good moral to the story for us taste makers, I think. It is a tough slog through the Doris-Day-as-Niven's spouse/housewife fixing up their hellhole suburban house and managing a sheepdog and four kids (one of whom is locked in a cage!) plot lines, no matter how sweet and plucky Doris is or how jazzy-pretty she lays down a song. She does sing a bit of Que Sera, Sera, though, and makes a Rock Hudson joke. Ha ha, scriptwriters! We totally get that she was in movies with him! How insider-y do we feel right now?!

All I can say is ...

2007-08-24T13:49:00.000-04:00

I didn't vote for 'em.

Yes, I did watch that show; as a cultural journalist and someone who knows a thing or two about the demands of musical theater, I felt it my responsibility to "weigh in on the casting process," as it were. Though I did give these two a vote here and there, my final votes were for "Hot Danny" Austin Miller and "Ballerina Sandy" Ashley Spencer, who have managed to go on to other and better things, respectively.

I haven't seen this revival production of Grease, having already been scarred by the 1994 revival. (The awesome factor of seeing Lucy "Warrior Princess" Lawless up close and personal was far outweighed by the inspirationless crap that is the book of that musical. When Aristotle was writing The Poetics, it must've slipped his mind to include a bit about not writing any scene that starts, "Hey, what's that song you're playing on your guitar? Why don't you sing it for us?") However, seeing those weekly performances, I can understand the criticism of the TV-cast leads.

Max Crumm was a good singer, but only hinted at any sexy bad boy charisma during his cover of the Black Crowes' Hard to Handle. If the reviews are to be believed, it was only by channeling Chris Robinson that he could let that out. Original front-runner Derek Keeling (now cast in his own Broadway-bound show) had that charisma in spades, but a really embarrassing cracked note during a duet lost the competition for him. (I can personally attest to his smoldering hotness, as most of the semi-finalists came in to MTC to rehearse for a benefit while I was still working there.) Even Austin Miller, who sets off my gaydar like an issue of HX magazine, could sex up the ladies on stage better than Crumm. Unfortunately for Miller, his "I was a fat kid" sob story couldn't beat Crumm's "I suffered from facial paralysis" sob story. The audience looooooves a good, tough childhood.

Laura Osnes was cute and sweet, but she held notes oddly, bringing a strange vocal phrasing to her work. The judges and audiences flipped out during her version of Jesus Christ Superstar; as a devotee to the original concept album, I couldn't handle anyone but Murray Head on the vocals. (Yes, he's the same guy who sang that ridiculous One Night in Bangkok song; his searing work on JCS will obliterate that memory for you.) Meanwhile, Ashley Spencer was blonde, gorgeous, and had a strong, beautiful voice; she was the superior Sandy in every way. Of course, to the winner go the spoils, and to the loser goes the better Broadway vehicle.

Yes, folks, I have just devoted an entire post to a subject which the "serious theater bloggers" wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. Does that make me less of a critic/blogger - or just earthier, and more in touch with the common person? I choose the latter.

Seriously, guys ...

2007-08-19T22:33:00.000-04:00

Poli degaine at Here Arts Center - you've got to check it out!

I went to see it tonight, and La Pendue were just as good as last year. (The show was more or less the same as the one I saw, except that one or two of the sequences had changed.) Most of the dialogue is in French, but non-French speakers will get the gist and will laugh, too.

There were des gens qui parlent le francais in the audience, but I don't know that everyone understood French, or all of what was said. (The puppeteers spoke really fast, and Polichinelle has a Donald Duck-type voice that takes some getting used to.) I do know that the audience went crazy for the show.

For the next few weeks I'll be taking a hiatus from playgoing to focus on Mets games and enjoying what's left of summer. This is not to say that the blog will be on hiatus as well - or that I won't end up seeing a show. It depends on what I have to say ... and if I have to pay for tickets. :)

See this show!

2007-08-17T20:30:00.002-04:00

As a tightfisted old lady (30 is the new old) theater critic, it's rare that I'll pay for theater, let alone full price. But sometime over the next few days, I will make it to the show Poli degaine by French theater company La Pendue.

http://www.theatermania.com/content/show.cfm/show/136494

I saw their show La Remede de Polichinelle ("Punch's Remedy") while at the World Festival of Puppet Theatres in France last September. My companions and I, all sober-minded theater critics in our mid 20s to early 30s, left the show holding our aching jaws with happy tears in our eyes. La Pendue's command of the puppets' physicality and their contagious energy were inspiring, and unmatched by the three other Punch shows I've seen since then.

Go to this show, Internet. I implore you, for the sake of your funny bone.

last of the fringe!

2007-08-16T10:49:00.000-04:00

My final Fringe review of 2007 is up:

offoffonline: review of HAIL SATAN

I have such a soft spot for the work of the Nosedive Productions crew. It's like an intellectual kinship/crush. This is not to say that I can't say unkind things about them; it's just that it hurts when I have to do so. It's probably time to bar myself from seeing their shows in an official capacity ...

Mind you, I don't think it's a bad thing to follow actors or writers by going to see their stuff. If you get what they do, you're doing them a service by making sure that the review is written by someone who knows what they're about. This can be a crapshoot with actors, though, as they have less control over the projects they do and you can find yourself getting over them really fast.

Case in point: I saw two actresses give strong performances with decent Canuck accents in this dark, Canadian play. A few months later, when looking for another show to review, I read about a play that sounded kinda iffy, but both of the actresses were in it. I decided to take a chance on it and trust their judgment. Bad move - both the show and the actresses were pretty mediocre. Now I'm less trusting of the material that they choose.

I'm not sure that I'll be covering anything else in August; I may wait for September and the start of the NYMF. However, I've attempted to put an iron in yet another fire - let's see what that produces ...

more fringe coverage!

2007-08-15T11:39:00.000-04:00

The third of my four Fringe reviews is up:

offoffonline: review of Princess Sunshine's Bitter Pill of Truth Funhouse

The show was fun, though it's at the scary Independent Theater. Nothing like starting off your theatergoing evening by walking down an alleyway and climbing up rickety metal stairs that resemble a repurposed fire escape ...

My last review is awaiting edits, and should be up later today.

In other writing news, I attended a Media Bistro class on Managing Motherhood and a Writing Career, which was fantastic! Now I am filled with motivation to start churning out salable literature like a modern-day Charles Dickens. Except, you know, without the hit-you-over-the-head coincidences, cutesy names and anti-semitic characterizations. Mostly I'm talking about prolific output.

(some of) the reviews are in!

2007-08-14T17:48:00.001-04:00

Here's some light reading:

offoffonline: review of LOST! How a Certain Celebrity Megahunk Stole My Identity

offoffonline: review of Elephant in the Room!

There are always surprises in store when you go to see a show. In the case of LOST!, I was surprised to discover that I'd already met the writer/performer Josh Halloway through my former job at the Manhattan Theatre Club. At the time, I just knew him as Josh, the guy working on LoveMusik who always walked around looking really stressed out. (Of course, he wasn't the only one who was anxious during that show. Michael Cerveris was the one guy involved who gave off a calm and collected vibe. Tackling Sondheim a few times will do that to you, I guess.)

I rarely spoke to him back then, so I don't feel like I've broken any rules on ethics or integrity. Anyway, if you review with any regularity (as I do), are in charge of contacting the PR people yourself (as I am), and if you're a friendly person (yes!), you tend to get a little chummy with the folks on the other side of the fence. It's never kept me from saying negative things about a show, if I feel that they are deserved; fortunately, the people with whom I've had the most contact are sensible enough to write/direct/rep quality theatrical merchandise.

With regard to the Elephant show, I was genuinely psyched about seeing this. In my college years, I played Daisy in Ionesco's Rhinoceros. (It was one of two straight-up girly love interest roles I played in my lifetime; Hero in Much Ado About Nothing was the other, also in college. What can I say? I was adorable back then.) Being intimately familiar with the original play, I was excited to see an update, and disappointed when it was not the show I thought it would be.

Now, granted, I'd broken the cardinal rule of off-off Broadway criticism, which is coming in with expectations. (ha ha) (no, really, it's not a good idea) But I was swayed by the TONY-winning name attached, and, honestly, just looking forward to a smart show. It was smart, yes, but it didn't do it for me. I can't tell you how upsetting it was when they tacked on lame scenes at the end that were meaningless ... and don't even get me started about God and the comet. (If you've seen the show, you'll understand.) The phrase, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" comes to mind.

I should have another two reviews posted tonight/tomorrow, one of which I have to, um, write before I can expect it to go live on the site. Yeah, I should get that done now.

my introduction to blog nation

2007-08-14T13:03:00.001-04:00

Hello, Internet! In this forum I'll be blogging about theater and writing. Please note that I am more than sufficiently intelligent to do so, and have an enormous vocabulary, theatrical and otherwise. Expressing myself in violet type using a charmingly jazzy literary voice shouldn't negate the quality of my viewpoint. :)

While I admire the style of the serious NY theater bloggers, I don't enjoy writing that way, and will never engage in their kind of analysis. I'm more about content and execution, and the exploration of what works and does not work onstage. Oh, and I'm obsessed with puppet theater thanks to my participation in IATC's Young Critics Seminar in France last September. (I'm developing a truly dark and downtown work using a style of Romanian puppets. By "developing," I mean that I know the look and structure of the show, but have very few details mapped out, and can't build marionettes. But it will be awesome if it ever sees the light of day.)

It's completely typical of me that I'm starting this instead of writing reviews for the Fringe shows I saw this weekend. (At the moment, I'm a staff writer for offoffonline.) The excuse-maker in me would defend my procrastination by saying that the distraction helps to foment my opinions. (The excuse-maker likes fancy words.) To an extent, this is true: I've always had to let things sit (ferment?) before I give out opinions in order to avoid delivering inane surface statements ("I liked it!") or overly caustic remarks ("It was excruciating!")

Of course, it's my firm belief that some productions are so shoddy that they don't deserve in-depth deconstruction. This isn't laziness, this is fair play. If you don't take the time to work out the kinks in your show, then don't expect me to take the time to point them out to you.

Thanks for reading, Internet! I'll try to be back soon with links to my latest reviews.