The title might be misleading, and stolen, but for me it was a dream come true.
As I believe I have mentioned before, I have a bit of a running love affair with Shakespeare. For this reason, I am compelled to go see every version of every play I am able to do. My favorites were in college, I was half an hour (or less) from the Black Friar's theatre, which housed the Shenandoah Shakespeare Company. Since I've moved on, I haven't been as fortunate to be able to see shows as frequently, but New York does have the wonderful Shakespeare in the Park every summer. Even better, its free. This year they were showing the Twelfth Night, which if you don't know is my favorite of the comedies. Between movie and stage versions, I have seen it at least a dozen times and read it at least 50 times more. There is something amazingly enchanting about this show for me.
The weather in New York recently has been absurdly chaotic. No matter what the weather man says, you have to be prepared for literally for rain or shine at all times. When I left to camp out for six hours for my Shakespeare tickets, I was ready to withstand a hurricane in order to get my tickets. Nothing was going to prevent me from getting them as it was the one thing I was looking forward to this summer. Needless to say, getting there at 6:30 in the morning, I got the tickets.
The day it self reminded me of the many summer days from Virginia Beach. Summers, to me, are characterized by long, hot, humid days. The days it doesn't rain, you wish it did. When it does rain, half the time its refreshing and half the time it becomes more miserable than it was before. As a result, there was no complaining about the weather. I mean you could, but there was no use, you might as well make the most of your time. So many of these days happened, of course, when we were going to Busch Gardens. Those were in fact the best days to go because you could get front row on all the roller coasters since no one was there. I didn't get front row at Shakespeare, there were people more crazy than I.
My day was spent, inside and outside. As the rain picked up, I popped into stores or restaurants and when it ceased I continued with my daily missions. This is after I get my tickets. Like I said, it reminded me of the days I would spend at Busch Gardens: slightly water logged, but still trucking through. After a while you give up worrying about weather you are dry or wet and just roll with it. Like so many of the days, the weather cleared up and I sat in a cool open air theatre watching the show I was there for. As the sun set and slowly faded into darkness, I knew that the night was the perfect night for me.
The show it self was magical. Personally, I don't think I have seen a better rendition of this show. (I don't know what that says about the interpretations I have seen) For the first time I actually saw just how each couple really fell and how it was possible for each to be enchanted so quickly. Most the times when I see this show, parts stand out and parts are lost. I really feel like most nails were hit directly on the head in this version. For the first time ever I saw a true character in Sebastian, who though he has a later appearance still needs to clearly fall and not just be whisked away by the allure of a strange new place. I don't think I can even begin to describe how impressed I was with Anne Hathaway's Viola, but I will save you from having to listen to me ramble on and on and on about the play. If this says anything though, I was so mystified with the show opening that I had tears in my eyes. It was the most interesting opening I have seen and I felt really set Orsino off on a different foot, when normally I find his character a little bratty.
I get flutters in my heart just thinking about it and, if I could see it every day I am not sure I would be bored with it. If this is what love feels like, I want to fall in love and never fall out again.
07 July 2009
01 July 2009
Flash Forward
Until three days ago I had always considered flashback moments in TV sitcoms to be a mere space filler at those points in the season where they aren't quite ready to develop some new story, while in the midst of a big one. Just an episode with no real plot to take up time. As my world is about to change though, I realize that life is full of these moments. They often happen when reconnecting with old friends, on the brink of some big event, or when things come to an end.
My roommate an I spent an hour reminiscing over our first few weeks in the apartment. It was just me and her while our third moved in slowly over the month. We laughed about how we had a mattress act as our couch for a good 5 months before we finally got one, that mattress was great for when we just were too tired to make it to our own rooms. Smiled, when we thought about how we kinda camped for the first week, using disposable silverware and plates. Discussed how freeing it was before our 3rd came in, realized we didn't have a shower curtain up yet and said "uhhh, that's not cool." I honestly think everyone, at some point should try not having a shower curtain. We each rearranged our rooms at least a half dozen times, and yet we never decorated our living room. When we had a rat under the sink, until our super could patch up the hole, we thought it was a good idea to clear everything out from under the sink, leave out rat poison, and tape the doors shut. Like packing tape was going to keep a rat out.
Were we in a sitcom, each moment would be followed by a clip from that respective episode. Life would be shown not just told.
After a while it seems as if we can reduce life to living, making memories, and reminiscing about them. Sometimes we seem to get too caught up in our own world to really take time to acknowledge the memories we have made, and they become lost in the abyss of the world. Its not so much that we live in the past, or have to; its more looking back to a more innocent time and seeing how far we have some. Its like we cant grow with out them.
Every so often I go back to read old journals. Most are filled with trite about the woes of my many, many crushes or the trials of friends. The things we thought important at the time. Then I see old friends and remember the time differently.
Our memories make up our past, our past makes us who we are. All unique and beautiful in our own way. Moments help to define where our future will take us.
The real life flashback moments don't happen, as I suspected with TV, to fill up time or when we have nothing more to say to each other. They often take up time that we should be doing other things, but again get caught up in a moment. Instead, they occur at critical moments of change so that we can see where we once were, that we survived and that we are now ready to move on.
No matter how well you now get along, or don't get along, these times are shared and you will always have that. Until the end of time, my first two years in New York were spent living with Lauren and Anna, just as my time in Detroit had characters and every time before that. We might part, but for the time being we helped each other grow. Its never clear why people enter our lives or why they leave, we just have to live and know that once we have parted ways for their influence we will never quite be the same as we were before.
My roommate an I spent an hour reminiscing over our first few weeks in the apartment. It was just me and her while our third moved in slowly over the month. We laughed about how we had a mattress act as our couch for a good 5 months before we finally got one, that mattress was great for when we just were too tired to make it to our own rooms. Smiled, when we thought about how we kinda camped for the first week, using disposable silverware and plates. Discussed how freeing it was before our 3rd came in, realized we didn't have a shower curtain up yet and said "uhhh, that's not cool." I honestly think everyone, at some point should try not having a shower curtain. We each rearranged our rooms at least a half dozen times, and yet we never decorated our living room. When we had a rat under the sink, until our super could patch up the hole, we thought it was a good idea to clear everything out from under the sink, leave out rat poison, and tape the doors shut. Like packing tape was going to keep a rat out.
Were we in a sitcom, each moment would be followed by a clip from that respective episode. Life would be shown not just told.
After a while it seems as if we can reduce life to living, making memories, and reminiscing about them. Sometimes we seem to get too caught up in our own world to really take time to acknowledge the memories we have made, and they become lost in the abyss of the world. Its not so much that we live in the past, or have to; its more looking back to a more innocent time and seeing how far we have some. Its like we cant grow with out them.
Every so often I go back to read old journals. Most are filled with trite about the woes of my many, many crushes or the trials of friends. The things we thought important at the time. Then I see old friends and remember the time differently.
Our memories make up our past, our past makes us who we are. All unique and beautiful in our own way. Moments help to define where our future will take us.
The real life flashback moments don't happen, as I suspected with TV, to fill up time or when we have nothing more to say to each other. They often take up time that we should be doing other things, but again get caught up in a moment. Instead, they occur at critical moments of change so that we can see where we once were, that we survived and that we are now ready to move on.
No matter how well you now get along, or don't get along, these times are shared and you will always have that. Until the end of time, my first two years in New York were spent living with Lauren and Anna, just as my time in Detroit had characters and every time before that. We might part, but for the time being we helped each other grow. Its never clear why people enter our lives or why they leave, we just have to live and know that once we have parted ways for their influence we will never quite be the same as we were before.
26 June 2009
You Are What You Wear
When it comes to t-shirt selection, there are 4 reasons I buy them:
Crazy? Yes, a little. When I walk down the street am I the only one who gets it? Most likely. Do even my friends think I am odd? With out a doubt, but they still love me for it anyways.
Why do I do this?
Truthfully the art of T-shirt buying is fairly simple, if you like it, just feel comfortable wearing it.
*side note, I spilt coffee on my writing this morning and just watched the ink slowly bleed as the coffee soaked into the paper. Coffee stains on paper are a reminder that imperfection and fallibility are beautiful.*
- Amazing fit
- Versatility
- Cuteness
- Hilarity
Crazy? Yes, a little. When I walk down the street am I the only one who gets it? Most likely. Do even my friends think I am odd? With out a doubt, but they still love me for it anyways.
Why do I do this?
- Attention. I am a Leo after all. I do things advertently and inadvertently to bring attention to myself. Sometimes its not the kind I want and sometimes its awesome. I have come to terms with the fact that I am an attention seeker, whether I mean to be or not. Please, if I get carried away with myself, smack me around a little and I will come to my senses.
- It's a great conversation starter. When you wear obscure things, people are generally interested in why you would wear such a thing, and if they are interested enough they will ask about it when the moment is right. I have this Punk Rock Care Bear shirt, for example, that my now former crush asked about. It was a complete conversation lengthener. Unfortunately he left the day after and after 2 or 3 months of me dropping the ball every chance I had, I could no longer even attempt to flirt.
- It keeps me in constant amusement. As a result of other stunts like these, I have had multiple people tell me that its like I'm in on some joke that only I know. In my experience it either intrigues people or scares them away. The ones it has intrigued have come to be some of my closest friends.
Truthfully the art of T-shirt buying is fairly simple, if you like it, just feel comfortable wearing it.
*side note, I spilt coffee on my writing this morning and just watched the ink slowly bleed as the coffee soaked into the paper. Coffee stains on paper are a reminder that imperfection and fallibility are beautiful.*
24 June 2009
Just a Thought
I wonder if the unintentional lengthening of my posts is preventing people from reading and or posting responses to my writing.
Singin in the Rain and Sunday Afternoons
An unusual occurrence for me, I wake up at 12:30pm on Saturday afternoon. It would seem more outlandish if I hadn’t gone to bed in the first place at 6am. The where, why and how of that is completely irrelevant, just know that it was a fun night that did not result in me being hung over, just very tired. I start to leisurely get up, and then I realize I have a package to pick up from the post office. So much for my leisurely Saturday.
I throw on jeans and a tee shirt. As I just have a 40 minute walk to the post office and a 40 minute walk back, I see no point in actually putting in the effort right now. The weather has been absurdly inconsistent recently and I find I have to prepare myself for anything. I leave and there is no rain, 5 minutes down the road it starts, and 10 minutes later its pouring. Thank God for planning ahead, and as my father always says: prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance. Or, in my case it prevents being soaked to the bone.
Despite the rain it was a nice walk, rather because of the rain it was a nice walk. I don’t mind walking in the rain, there is something oddly soothing about rainy days. Yes, I might be that kid who stomps in puddles every chance she can, from time to time still tries to soak her jeans to her knees through splashing. Rain after all is just weather, you can have just as much fun in the rain as you can in the sun. Part of this odd optimism about the rain is a result of the perpetual rain cloud we have been stuck under for the past couple weeks. Part is a general affinity for the rain.
I continue my walk; its funny watching all the people either surrendering to the rain or trying their hardest to fight it. My only fear in the rain is that I will have a Bridget Jones moment, you know the time where a car or bus cuts into a huge puddle as its turning and you get caught in the splash. That was not going to happen today, I was too carefree. If its going to happen, its going to be a big to do.
I pass a cute little coffee shop I might have to stop in on my way back, depending on the weather. It’s a bit curious how my mail gets routed through the post office in my area that is a 40 minute walk from my house, and not somewhere slightly closer. This thought is really not worth my time or energy, so I let it just drift away. What is almost more perplexing is how I don’t see a single person for the last 10 minutes of my walk. For a minute it seems as if I’m back on the desolate streets of Detroit.
Before I have more time to put into that thought, I arrive at my destination and find a line of people waiting for the exact same thing as me. Clearly I am not the only person unable to receive packages at home, I am only fortunate the package was USPS and not Fed Ex or UPS. This package my mother sent me has better have been worth the wait, and I need to get an apartment with a doorbell.
I get my package and set out again, though I feel like a slight idiot because according to the package slip I could have had the package redelivered and left at my place. The rain has ceased slightly, but doesn’t make it any easier to carry a package, and umbrella and a purse. Just as I reach the cute little cafe the rain picks up again and I take that as a sign to go inside. I order a coffee and a sandwich to tide me over as I wait for the down pour to subside.
This seems as good a moment as any to open the mysterious package. Inside I find 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies, 8 melted Cadbury eggs and season 2 of the show Get Smart. You know what I was most excited for? Get Smart.
I really don’t know why my mother thinks I need 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies (I appreciate the gesture and will probably share the wealth as I do not need 6 boxes of girl scout cookies). Get Smart however, one of the earlier loves of my life and I still can’t get enough of it. Had I a computer with me, I would have started watching.
As soon as the rain dies down a little, I set off home. I am eager to get home and clean my room as I can put in Get Smart whilst I do so. As we all know though, I have a short attention span and on my way home I am easily distracted by a shoe store. For the record though I have tried 8 different of these shoe stores to find my dream pair of Paten leather heels and they never have them in my size. They did! I bought them. Now I can successfully head home. What an afternoon to brighten up an otherwise dreary Saturday.
I get home and plan my adventure brunch adventure in Park Slope for the next day with LL.
The brunch adventure was something else entirely. I met up with Lauren at 11:15 (I was running late), and from Union Square we hopped on a train to Park Slope where we were going to try a new place for brunch. Of course with all the train dilemma's because of weekend construction, our train got stuck on the Manhattan Bridge. Go figure. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. Fifteen minutes for them to play while we all waited. It was all good, because we were in no rush.
When we got there we walked from the train to our new little spot. Don't ask me the name, I have already forgotten it, but it was really cute and organic and unlimited drinks with our meal. I seriously think that may have been the best brunch I have had in a while.
Post brunch LL and I wandered the street fair that ran the course of 7th ave. Fantastic little stretch and I we both decided park slope was too cute for its own good. Perhaps its a place to just pick up and run away to, like OZ or Neverland or Wonderland... tho those characters didn't really run to those places. In any case, Park Slope is cute enough to consider a move... at some point.
I throw on jeans and a tee shirt. As I just have a 40 minute walk to the post office and a 40 minute walk back, I see no point in actually putting in the effort right now. The weather has been absurdly inconsistent recently and I find I have to prepare myself for anything. I leave and there is no rain, 5 minutes down the road it starts, and 10 minutes later its pouring. Thank God for planning ahead, and as my father always says: prior proper planning prevents piss poor performance. Or, in my case it prevents being soaked to the bone.
Despite the rain it was a nice walk, rather because of the rain it was a nice walk. I don’t mind walking in the rain, there is something oddly soothing about rainy days. Yes, I might be that kid who stomps in puddles every chance she can, from time to time still tries to soak her jeans to her knees through splashing. Rain after all is just weather, you can have just as much fun in the rain as you can in the sun. Part of this odd optimism about the rain is a result of the perpetual rain cloud we have been stuck under for the past couple weeks. Part is a general affinity for the rain.
I continue my walk; its funny watching all the people either surrendering to the rain or trying their hardest to fight it. My only fear in the rain is that I will have a Bridget Jones moment, you know the time where a car or bus cuts into a huge puddle as its turning and you get caught in the splash. That was not going to happen today, I was too carefree. If its going to happen, its going to be a big to do.
I pass a cute little coffee shop I might have to stop in on my way back, depending on the weather. It’s a bit curious how my mail gets routed through the post office in my area that is a 40 minute walk from my house, and not somewhere slightly closer. This thought is really not worth my time or energy, so I let it just drift away. What is almost more perplexing is how I don’t see a single person for the last 10 minutes of my walk. For a minute it seems as if I’m back on the desolate streets of Detroit.
Before I have more time to put into that thought, I arrive at my destination and find a line of people waiting for the exact same thing as me. Clearly I am not the only person unable to receive packages at home, I am only fortunate the package was USPS and not Fed Ex or UPS. This package my mother sent me has better have been worth the wait, and I need to get an apartment with a doorbell.
I get my package and set out again, though I feel like a slight idiot because according to the package slip I could have had the package redelivered and left at my place. The rain has ceased slightly, but doesn’t make it any easier to carry a package, and umbrella and a purse. Just as I reach the cute little cafe the rain picks up again and I take that as a sign to go inside. I order a coffee and a sandwich to tide me over as I wait for the down pour to subside.
This seems as good a moment as any to open the mysterious package. Inside I find 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies, 8 melted Cadbury eggs and season 2 of the show Get Smart. You know what I was most excited for? Get Smart.
I really don’t know why my mother thinks I need 6 boxes of Girl Scout cookies (I appreciate the gesture and will probably share the wealth as I do not need 6 boxes of girl scout cookies). Get Smart however, one of the earlier loves of my life and I still can’t get enough of it. Had I a computer with me, I would have started watching.
As soon as the rain dies down a little, I set off home. I am eager to get home and clean my room as I can put in Get Smart whilst I do so. As we all know though, I have a short attention span and on my way home I am easily distracted by a shoe store. For the record though I have tried 8 different of these shoe stores to find my dream pair of Paten leather heels and they never have them in my size. They did! I bought them. Now I can successfully head home. What an afternoon to brighten up an otherwise dreary Saturday.
I get home and plan my adventure brunch adventure in Park Slope for the next day with LL.
The brunch adventure was something else entirely. I met up with Lauren at 11:15 (I was running late), and from Union Square we hopped on a train to Park Slope where we were going to try a new place for brunch. Of course with all the train dilemma's because of weekend construction, our train got stuck on the Manhattan Bridge. Go figure. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. Fifteen minutes for them to play while we all waited. It was all good, because we were in no rush.
When we got there we walked from the train to our new little spot. Don't ask me the name, I have already forgotten it, but it was really cute and organic and unlimited drinks with our meal. I seriously think that may have been the best brunch I have had in a while.
Post brunch LL and I wandered the street fair that ran the course of 7th ave. Fantastic little stretch and I we both decided park slope was too cute for its own good. Perhaps its a place to just pick up and run away to, like OZ or Neverland or Wonderland... tho those characters didn't really run to those places. In any case, Park Slope is cute enough to consider a move... at some point.
22 June 2009
Down in the Underground, a Land Serene, a Crystal Moon
This was a few weeks ago now, but when my friend told me about her friend's underground art show, I couldn't turn it down. First of all, when I say underground, I mean underground. The art show was to be held in the abandoned subway tunnel in Brooklyn. How on earth could I imagine turning down an opportunity to spend a Saturday afternoon underground in an old subway tunnel.
The day started of slowly. Emily and I had gone to a friends party and then to get food. We were out until like 3 or 4; we were a little tired. I arranged to meet her around 1pm which should give us plenty of time to get there, see the show and play underground. Our plans never go that way though.
I get there at 1pm and of course we sit around for an hour, watching house I believe. We finally leisurely leave, stop for a breakfast sandwich on the way out and then hop on the F Train to Brooklyn. The only problem was that the F train wasn't running that weekend. We mistakenly hopped on to the A train that happened to be running on the F line, and didn't realize it until we were in Brooklyn and it was too late to turn back.
We hop off at a station where we can hopefully just swap back to the Manhattan bound tracks, because the A train was taking us away from where we really needed to go. This plan would have worked if the A train in Brooklyn was being screwy as well. Really, I don't see why they have to completely screw with the train lines when they want to do construction. People are going to get confused when the A train is running on the F line, the 4 train on the 2 3 line, the N on the B line and the F train not even running. I might be exaggerating some, but there are often times multiple weekend changes, that don't make sense and don't remain consistent from weekend to weekend. How are we supposed to keep anything straight?
So anyways, Em and I end up hopping off there and walking up 3 blocks to a street I know has a G stop a few blocks up. Providing the G line is running properly all will be well because the G and the F share a line after a certain point.
The whole train adventure took about an hour and a half, so we were arriving at the show at 4pm. At least we made it with an hour to go. Now it was just a matter of finding the place. We were told to meet outside the Trader Joes. My guess it would be that line in the middle of the street waiting to go down through a manhole cover.
How cool is that? We climbed down a man hole cover to get into the art show. While we were standing in line, I asked Emily which ninja turtle she wanted to be. She said Donatello, I said Michelangelo.
We enter and make our way through the tunnel, following the light. It was advised we bring a flashlight, we forgot ours. Alas. Surprisingly I am much more adept at walking in the dark underground than I am in daylight were I can see everything clearly. I felt like I was about to enter some alternate underground world, like in Labyrinth or Neverware or Wonderland. What magic and mystery was about us? Everyone was carefree, eclectic, underworldly and quite tipsy already.
The show itself was wicked awesome. The paintings were all based around the idea of rats. Being in the underground, I think that's a pretty clever theme. We peruse a bit, drink wine, and chat with fellow spectators. The scene is interesting and Em and I can't help but chat with others who were attracted to such an event.
Eventually the show draws to a close, and then we leave. Climb back through the man hole, and back to the real world. I suppose this is a better end than most of the alternate underground worlds, you don't often have the choice to leave as we did. Maybe though, just maybe this leaves room for more adventure.
The day started of slowly. Emily and I had gone to a friends party and then to get food. We were out until like 3 or 4; we were a little tired. I arranged to meet her around 1pm which should give us plenty of time to get there, see the show and play underground. Our plans never go that way though.
I get there at 1pm and of course we sit around for an hour, watching house I believe. We finally leisurely leave, stop for a breakfast sandwich on the way out and then hop on the F Train to Brooklyn. The only problem was that the F train wasn't running that weekend. We mistakenly hopped on to the A train that happened to be running on the F line, and didn't realize it until we were in Brooklyn and it was too late to turn back.
We hop off at a station where we can hopefully just swap back to the Manhattan bound tracks, because the A train was taking us away from where we really needed to go. This plan would have worked if the A train in Brooklyn was being screwy as well. Really, I don't see why they have to completely screw with the train lines when they want to do construction. People are going to get confused when the A train is running on the F line, the 4 train on the 2 3 line, the N on the B line and the F train not even running. I might be exaggerating some, but there are often times multiple weekend changes, that don't make sense and don't remain consistent from weekend to weekend. How are we supposed to keep anything straight?
So anyways, Em and I end up hopping off there and walking up 3 blocks to a street I know has a G stop a few blocks up. Providing the G line is running properly all will be well because the G and the F share a line after a certain point.
The whole train adventure took about an hour and a half, so we were arriving at the show at 4pm. At least we made it with an hour to go. Now it was just a matter of finding the place. We were told to meet outside the Trader Joes. My guess it would be that line in the middle of the street waiting to go down through a manhole cover.
How cool is that? We climbed down a man hole cover to get into the art show. While we were standing in line, I asked Emily which ninja turtle she wanted to be. She said Donatello, I said Michelangelo.
We enter and make our way through the tunnel, following the light. It was advised we bring a flashlight, we forgot ours. Alas. Surprisingly I am much more adept at walking in the dark underground than I am in daylight were I can see everything clearly. I felt like I was about to enter some alternate underground world, like in Labyrinth or Neverware or Wonderland. What magic and mystery was about us? Everyone was carefree, eclectic, underworldly and quite tipsy already.
The show itself was wicked awesome. The paintings were all based around the idea of rats. Being in the underground, I think that's a pretty clever theme. We peruse a bit, drink wine, and chat with fellow spectators. The scene is interesting and Em and I can't help but chat with others who were attracted to such an event.
Eventually the show draws to a close, and then we leave. Climb back through the man hole, and back to the real world. I suppose this is a better end than most of the alternate underground worlds, you don't often have the choice to leave as we did. Maybe though, just maybe this leaves room for more adventure.
15 June 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
