Childhood Reminiscing and Current Events

In recent years, I've become hyperaware of my patterns and cycles, and going back through these old posts...damn, they're so highlighted, it's almost embarrassing. Almost.

In the past few weeks, there have been signs and synchronicities that ask the question:

 "What were you into as a child?"

And just today, listening to a podcast, they were discussing being kids and tape recording silly skits and doing kid shows or writing interview scripts and recording them with their siblings and buddies.

As I was editing a couple of videos for Pulp City Magazine, I started thinking about my first Kodak camera, and commandeering my dad's tape recorder and writing silly plays and radio shows with my brother or just recording us while we played with matchbox cars and his racetracks, or with my bestie, April, while we played with my Grandpa Dollhouse or Barbies. Some of those dumb pics I still have. I wish I still had those tapes.

As soon as my mom's church, where she worked, updated her office computer, that old DOS machine became mine and came with a dot matrix printer. It looked like this one but had yellow/gold type.

I journaled on that thing for years and printed it all out before we updated our home computer. The printer wasn't calibrated and printed over the page perforations, so I have the 100+ pages all still mostly intact. Maybe we'll go down that memory lane for like, Throwback Thursdays or something. 

It's been fun working at 903 Mills Market* and talking with the kids about how great a time it was to be alive during BetaMax vs VHS and dial-up internet and watching music flow from vinyl records, to 8-track tapes, to cassette tapes, to CDs, minidisk players, .WAV players to mp3 players (and listing all the streaming download sites), and then so many of us came back to vinyl. 

Point is, I've always been into media.

In the past 10+ years, I've come through for a lot of you, but I've also failed on some projects because I let myself get distracted by life instead of focusing on the work.

I apologize to those of you I've failed or disappointed. I apologize to me too.

I admit to the self-sabotage and have been doing the work to make changes and put an end to certain cycles and patterns, and in turn, finding a peaceful balance and a renewed sense of ambition, motivation, and inspiration.

And so now, I'm on this incredible startup team for Pulp City and we did our first food feature yesterday and it feels so good to be back in it. I went in thinking it was just going to be me & Dom with a couple of cameras, and then, all of a sudden, we had a 4 person crew with so much being covered. It was an absolute dream come true. Seeing the footage they were getting and being able to put together a really good idea about how to cut it, and how great we all worked together....  It was just really inspiring and we're so excited to show you the things we've been working on.  We're slated to launch next month for Orlando's 150th birthday!

If you're a local business owner or know someone with a local business, get in touch with us and we'll do something fun together!!!

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*I'll tell you stories and introduce you to my 903 Mills Market family very soon. They're the best.

Now You're Just Somebody That Used To Blog

First,

 Whoa, guys. 

Remember us back in the day? 

I might be a li'l dizzy and full of reignited joy in this moment. 

Is our spark sparkin'?

Napoleon Dynamite is on in the background. while I write this.

The last time I blogged here was 2018?  Dang.

How've you been?

I just logged into here, fucked around, and found a writing from New Year 2019 that was pretty brutal to read.

It made me proud of my 2019 self to have written so much when things were just....not as they appeared in this black mirror. 

Subscribe for Part 2!!! 

I'm just kidding. That's not why we're here. 

But I may or may not share that whole story very soon. Along with some others. 

Or maybe I won't. We'll see...

I've been thinking a lot about all the things.

Life. Death. Art. 

Tonight has been a time capsule of some of the things.

The past few years have been a massive observation and evolution.

It's all been a fascinating study of the human experience. I do hope that sharing some of my experiences might help you with navigating or validating your own learning experience.

You are not alone, sweet friend.

This life is for learning. It is not a competition. It is a co-creation.

It is a test in patience and surrender.

Also... Happy Father's Day. 

Here's what I'm thinking: 

We're gonna bring Brainure back. 

And we're gonna talk about this chapter of our lives. 

We can talk about anything here.

This is a safe space to process all of this and learn from life...Together.

I can't wait to have conversations and catch up with you.

The Return of Friday Jams

I was doing some video work this morning and remembered that Pogo is still out there doing shit.

So I went and looked him up and there was this video that he dropped recently:

And then my youtube just autoplayed Pogo.

So I'm having a very Pogo day and it's making me sooooo fuckin' happy.

I think he'd make some of you happy, too.

Don't think I won't tag you at some point if you sleep on this.

And honestly, I have Terribly Odd to thank for my intro to Pogo a bunch of years ago.

An Explanation -or- You Probably Think This Post Is About You

FOREWARD: If you want the full experience you have to click links and listen to music and pay attention to lyrics and read and shit like that.

If you don't wanna do any of that...byeeeeeeeeeeeee

If you do, HI!. Welcome to me.
******************************************

Intro theme song for this:

One of my facebook posts from last weekend:

I have so many things to say and it hurts to not really be able to

The replies and comments:

• Are you ok? *
• Here, try this [insert self-care advice and/or creative outlets]
• Start blogging again!
• We're here for you.
• Call me if you need to talk.

....and then the family gossip that my mom told me about. 

Because they check in with her instead of talking with me about it directly, but that’s another story for another time. **

Let’s be real - do you think that I’m the type of person to put out a call for serious help on fucking facebook? I know how to use a goddamn phone AND how to reach you in case of any sort of real emergency.

I’ve vented there, yes.

I’ve looked for attention there, yes. 
Isn't that what it's there for? The giving and receiving of attention.

I’ve somewhat opened up about certain feels there once or twice, sure. Who hasn't? There are a lot of us going through the same stuff and when we find each other relatable in low times it really is so comforting.

We’re all a bit hypersensitive and moody AF in these years, and I do appreciate you reaching out, those of you who did. You are the wind beneath my wings.

But SO MANY times, I’ve bottled up super hilarious quips and insanely ridiculous comments, too. Usually because having to explain it sucks the funny out and by then they’ve probably missed their moments, or it would take 20mins to explain and would only make sense to me anyway.

It’s called a filter. Some of you have them, too.

Others don’t…you cheeky bastards.

Let me put it to you another way.

I read this article years ago about popcorn brain. Google it.

Go ahead – I’ll give you a minute…don't be lazy. Just do it.

So, after the last 20+years living the majority of my life online, when I’m in conversations with people out in the “meat world”, and especially after a few drinks, and with you all on my phone and so accessible due to the loveliest of all inventions: Social Media…I tend to pop off at the mouth occasionally when I can’t contain ALL the bottlenecked thoughts that are rattling around the old noggin.

When I popped off last Saturday, I was in a fiiiiiiiine place which was almost entirely full of face hurting laughter and running into interesting characters. I have witnesses.

I’ll end this with 3 things:

•        Because my ramblings tend to take more than anyone really wants to read on facebook***
•        Because some of you have been poking me about this for a while 
•        Because I know it’ll help me to have this outlet which, who fuckin’ knows, might also help some of you.

I’m rebooting/reigniting my blog.

*dammit, I really wish my name were Annie now

**except you Deb. Thank you. Was nice chatting with you. and I don't blame them, cuz Janet kinda really fuckin' rules.

***it makes for good toilet reading in the morning

Outro theme song for this:


-->

When The Dust Settles

    “Sssshhhh, sssshhhhh, baby, it’s okay, baby. Ssssshhhhh, sssssshhhhh”, Sarah said as she sat on the dirt floor with her newborn son held against her chest and rocked him back and forth. The ceiling and slats of the siding of the house were shaking and Sarah didn’t know how long they’d hold. She’d only had a couple of weeks with baby Michael before the wild black winds kicked up. There’d been no time to prepare for such a force of nature. They’d had previous dust and sand storms that came through these plains, weeks of them, but nothing like what was now seen through the bubbled glass windows of their small farmland house. There was no way this ramshackle shelter would stand against the dry relentless winds that were blowing through so incredibly hard. It had gotten so dark, so fast. The sun had completely disappeared and it was only mid-afternoon, a good 3 or 4 hours left of sunlight on a normal day. The temperature dropped and the air chilled without the sun’s warmth. Sarah thought it looked like the end of days outside after a glance through one of the windows, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t look again and drew closed the thin fabric of the curtains she’d sewn. She had been proud of those curtains. They were the first things she put up in an attempt to make the tiny two-room house a home just after she and John were married. He was a good, proud, and hearty land worker who’d left Sarah and their new son for a meeting with a man in New Mexico about work. John was eager to provide Sarah and Michael with a new chapter for their lives together. Sarah wondered how far John made it before the black winds found him. Her chest felt heavy thinking about where he’d have to stop and take cover and if he was ok, where ever he was.

     It started off as such a perfect Sunday. The skies so clear blue and the sun shining after not having seen it for weeks. Sarah busied herself with hanging the laundry outside and John packed up the jalopy and left that morning. He and Sarah had decided they were done with being Oklahoma land owners and were excited to find something new further west. The weather that year, and especially over the last few weeks, just wasn’t accommodating for working the soil and the drought, which had hit the year they got married, proved to be too harsh. John and Sarah were fully committed to each other and were able to stay optimistic through it all. The cattle that John brought with him were all gone after the first wave of dust storms came through. Their lungs had basically filled with mud from breathing in the fine dust of top soils and silt that constantly drifted through the atmosphere. 

Michael’s arrival had stalled their first plans to move west and Sarah had to power through the last few months while John fought to keep his new family afloat after the livestock and crops were all gone. They’d wanted children and were pleasantly surprised when they found out that Sarah was pregnant with Michael and that he’d be a spring baby. Both John and Sarah had never felt so revived and renewed and Michael’s birth had gone so smoothly, as if he was just as eager to be in this world and in this new life. John cried when he’d first gazed upon his son and he looked at Sarah with a new found appreciation and respect. Sarah absolutely glowed throughout the process and fell in love with the little human she and John created. She was so grateful and felt so blessed to be Michael’s mother and saw in John’s eyes that he’d do anything and everything for them.

     She looked down at Michael, swaddled in the quilt she’d made in the months before he came. His face was partially covered to protect him from the dust that made its way into the house. Her eyes welled up and a tear landed on the only spot of Michael’s forehead that was exposed between folds of fabric. Where the tear landed, the dust in the air collected and stuck to it. Fine wisps of silt were raining in through the ceiling and Sarah noticed a bow in some of the boards where the dirt outside was so heavily weighted against the wall boards that they bent inward slightly. The smell of the kerosene lamp got stronger as it filtered through the cloth that Sarah had draped over her face. Michael started crying again. Sarah slowly moved her hand to Michael’s face. She covered his nose and mouth and said, “Ssssshhhh, ssssshhhh, baby. It’s OK, baby. Ssssshhhh.”

--------------

I wrote this after studying Dorothea Lange in a photography class and started researching The Dust Bowl and Black Sunday in the '30s.

In one article, it was reported that a survivor had admitted that she'd contemplated killing her newborn just to spare him the environmental hell they were living in.

Poetry - Femme Fatale

The assignment was to write a haiku, a sonnet, and something in open form. I've never been a huge fan of writing poetry because I never thought I was very good at it, but really grew to appreciate it after this assignment. My sonnet is a bit of a stumble but the requirements are all there. I was inspired by Patrick Nagel and Velvet Underground this particular night while doing homework.

-Haiku-

She wore her heels high

But made no sound while walking

'Til it was too late

-Sonnet-

They walked together having found true love

A close step behind, followed his best friend

He dreamt of cupping her supple rear end

And eyed those pants that fit her like a glove

A young beauty, wearing severe high heels

Yellow hair and bright blood red on her lips

Twisted triangle of relationships

A vixen in slinky smooth fabric peels

She was aware of her affect on him

The moves she made calculated, precise

They were caught one time, their whispers concise

The secrets they shared, founded on a whim

A call too close, the decision was made

To save her love, his friend's light had to fade

-Open Form-

She spritzed on her perfume

Lined her eyes with black

And slicked on some red

Shiny lacquered nails

Two stabs through her earlobes

Glimmered and dazzled

Her foot fall echoed and sharp

A match struck

The wisp of sulfur

The taste of tobacco and cloves mixed with gin and tonic

A charming laugh tinkling like ice in a glass after a delightful compliment

Pop culture filled polite conversation merged into backgrounds and upbringings and stifled vitriol

A lovely evening then soured, rotted, and ruined by shallow snobbery

Ignorant, arrogant, and rude

Quick sharp echoing steps

A frenzied retreat through black moving shadows and white steaming sidewalks

The silent transition

Between hunter and prey

He'd started the night as the hunter.

Photo Prompt - The American Contract

We were provided with 5 photos to pick from and write a story segment about. It didn't have to be a finished story, but it did need to be between 500 to 600 words.
This is the picture I chose and the words that followed.

The American Contract

I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.

Stuff and Nonsense.

Most of you know that I'm back in school. If you don't, I have been since the summer of 2014. I'm heading into my final semester in January for a piddly little 2 year degree for Multimedia Production: TV/Digital Cinema. This fall term, I jumped into 5 classes; mostly digital editing and photography, but there was also a Creative Writing class.

I have decided to return to this hotdog stand because having words out there and ideas and inspiration floating about in so many ways is important to me. Most of you are creative minds and artists and stuff like that is important to you, too.
You understand that when the Muse speaks, you have no choice but to listen & TCB. My Muse has been strong this fall and she wants me to share her with you now.
So, if you're interested...I'm going to start posting recent stories, poetry, video & photo projects.

Plus, this:

Imitation: The Best Form of Flattery

Calm down. It was for education. I'm not a rip-off artist.

In this same design class from last summer's term (previously on Brainure), we were to bring in samples of art and turn them into super high contrast paintings, using only black and white, no gray scale.
I chose these two Chad Pollpeter pieces for the assignment.

I struggled with skipping details for basic lighting/shapes at the beginning. My professor, Jay Spalding, appreciated my choice of artist...which more than likely helped my grade.
My versions turned out to not suck as much as was initially anticipated.

So, thank you, Chad for inadvertently helping with my continuing education & steadily cranking out some amazing paintings.

A Year Ago - Drawings

Does anyone blog anymore?

A year ago this summer, I was in a design class.  We did blind contour drawings where you're looking at the subject, not your hand as you draw, and you don't lift the pencil.
Our subjects were each other - classmates that were sitting around us.
Mine turned out looking like this:

Patrick 1

 Patrick 2

Lee 1

Lee 2 

The Argument Against The Washington Racial Slurs Football Team

We've been discussing this with people recently....and I have more information to share but figure that this was one of those things that I wanted to share with everyone...not just those few individuals.  It's a pretty hot topic after that one episode of the Daily Show and with some of the ads you may or may not have seen.





And some of you know that I'm in a Native American Humanities class where we've been discussing and reading about this over the past few months.  Matthew posted something on the book of face at the beginning of the football season that got a bit of back and forth commenting, but I feel like it needs a little more attention.

red·skin  n.
usually offensive.
-American Indian
-the word 'redskin' is offensive and should be avoided

From wikipedia: In a 2014 interview after the Trademark decision, Amanda Blackhorse the lead petitioner expressed her opinion: "The name itself actually dates back [to] the time when the Native American population was being exterminated, and bounty hunters were hired to kill Native American people... So, in order to show that they made their kill, they had to bring back a scalp or their skin."

From "Just Good Sports" by Suzan Shown Harjo: "The most derogatory name for Native Peoples in the English language is 'redskins'. The term has its origins in the late 1600s, when Europeans introduced commercial bounty-hunting in North America. they first paid fur trappers and other mercenaries for the heads and whole bodies of Native men, women, and children. When that practice proved too cumbersome, bounty-payers accepted the bloody red skins and scalps as proof of 'Indian kill'. From that time and into the 1900s, 'redskins' was the term that was used in newspapers and books when writers wanted to convey the worst impression of Native Peoples. In Hollywood westerns, the term was usually preceded by such adjectives as 'dirty', 'lazy', 'no good' and 'theiving'. The term is despised by most Native Peoples and is seldom used in polite society now, except as a 'Native' sports reference."

So there's all of that.
And with that, I understand that some people are slanting the conversation by thinking that the term is somehow "honoring" the Native American culture.
But please....explain to me how it's supposed to be an honor to remind someone of that term's origin?

There are these defenses:
    "But there are the Celtics and the Vikings....and they aren't all pissed off about logos...."
When was the last time you saw a Celtic or a Viking?

And aren't Irish people kinda done with being likened to leprechauns?
If they aren't, you know why that is?
Because they were white dudes coming up with ideas for a team name and logo.  It was self-appointed.
Because teams like "the fighting Irish" don't mind having a little angry drunk leprechaun as their logo.
And because teams like the "Patriots" don't mind having a brooding white dude as their logo.

"But what about the Buccaneers or the pirates on the Raiders logo?"  Stop.
Those are occupations.
That don't exist anymore.

"The Seminoles signed off on using 'Chief' Osceola as a mascot."
1. The Seminoles have a lot of casino money pumping into the state of Florida.
2. When they signed off on it, they were able to keep more of their casino money instead of getting into a lawsuit.
3. Osceola was never a chief and the "mascot" is a white dude in red face.

Not any less offensive. Just sold.

If you're a team that's completely making up a Native American character or changing who an actual person was in history...how is that honoring anything?

And what the fuck is this about?

Do you think there would ever be a team that would even consider making a banner that said, "Hey Jews, you stink! Head for the showers!!" or "Let's hang those Negroes high!"
Ugh...that's just awful.  Seriously, even just typing that out, I hurt my own feelings and all I can visualize in my head is a bunch of twat cheerleaders standing around all Mean Girls style coming up with that horrible shite above.
I graduated from Apopka and the worst of our banners was just "Pioneers can suck a fatty!!"
I still don't really know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.  Exactly what kind of "fatty" are we talking about here?

"But Dan Snyder started Original Americans Foundation and is giving back to certain tribal communities."....
1. OAF is a dumb name.
     oaf.  n.
          -a clumsy, stupid person; a lout.
-AND-
2. Good.  He should be.

Do I think the Washington football team should change their name?
It's probably not a bad idea and is likely to happen in the near future, but ultimately, I don't care too much because I'm not a fan, I don't buy their merchandise, and am falling out of love (if there ever was any) with the NFL as a whole anyway.
Plus, they suck.

GO BUCS!!

Tampa Bay Buccaneers

Sunday, November 16, 1:00 PM

FedEx Field, Landover, Maryland

Tampa Bay Buccaneers (2-8)

27 - 7

Final

Washington Redskins (3-7)

No. These Are NOT Clemson Logos.

For the past few months I've been thinkin' about a little tribute to my orange kids, Snoop & Turk.

 It felt funny to even ask Freak for cat paws because he does some really nice work that's a lot more detailed.  He did my feet that one time.  And we're talking about doing something to fill in some space on my back.

Anyway, while these are mainly for my boys, it occurred to me that the timing was pretty much purrrrrrrrfect (*groan*) since also working on "Cat On A Hot Tin Roof".

And this picture taken just after they were done makes me laugh cuz it looks suicidal.

You Can't Spell "Theatre" Without "The"

When Matthew & I were first starting out, he'd come over to my apartment & was checking out my dvd collection and pointed at the musicals stash and said, "What's that about? Were you in those or something?"

It's funny how much I've been thinking about that question recently.  Dammit, he's so good at that and he doesn't even MEAN to be.

In, maybe 3rd grade?, we read a play and I loved everything about it, the way it was formatted, that it took multiple people to read it out loud....etc.  So, I wrote my own starring the Christmas tree and my brother.  The tree spoke with flickering lights I'd blink on and off while doing voice over from underneath it while my brother played his part standing next to the tree.  If you ask her, my mother will not remember this happening.

We did some plays and puppet shows in church, but during high school, I missed out on any sort of drama club because it was either unavailable or I was already working and didn't have time for extra-curricular activities.
Luckily, that's the only thing I'd ever really say, "If I had to do it over again..." for.
Apopka High School did two productions while I was there, Our Town (yes, I cried) and Show Boat which had the most impressive stage boat set I'd ever seen.  That fucker was two stories and REVOLVED in 2 separate pieces so the outside of the boat was one set and the inside of it another.

My grandparents owned a music store when we were growing up and were into musicals, so The Music Man and The Sound of Music were annual staples and I was obsessed with one of my grandmother's music boxes that had a couple dancing while a Phantom of The Opera song played.
Maybe it's a genetic thing that I'm a musicals fan.  My favorite is when someone says they "hate muscials" but can then sing along to most songs in the movie versions.
Like my mom says that she hates musicals (...or just most things...) but then knows all the songs from Fiddler On The Roof, or Porgy and Bess, or 7 Brides For 7 Brothers.

Rent and Ragtime are probably my two freakin' favorites and Chicago would be the show I'd almost certainly die to be in.
Perhaps in another life.

Last week, I teased a little about being over at Mad Cow.

About a month ago and after a few weeks of bugging the Production Manager, and email bombing the overhire program alias, I received a reply asking if I'd be interested in being a Stage Manager for some upcoming shows. (there were a lot of strange high pitched happy noises that followed simply due to receiving a reply)  My response to them included the fact that I'd be starting out completely green and that it would be better for me to jump into an Assistant Stage Manager position first so I could eat everyone's brains and gain their knowledge.
After doing some homework, what I liked about this was that it paralleled my old gig as a Sales Associate/Inside Sales Support but instead of a District Manager, I now have a director.  Instead of a sales team, there's a cast of actors.  Instead of the operations team, there are the production teams.  There was a slight sense of familiarity making it not completely feel like I'd be a mermaid out of water.
So, for the past couple of weeks, I've been playing the role of Assistant Stage Manager for Tennessee Williams' "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof".

As soon as I found out which show I'd be working, it was time for more homework.
First, was a viewing of the Liz Taylor/Paul Newman/Burl Ives 1958 movie version.
Then I found out that Tennessee Williams hated that flick, so I went over to YouTube and found a Jessica Lange/Tommy Lee Jones/Rip Torn 1984 PBS version...which was pretty stinkin' great.
The father/son relationships and struggles being a strong and common theme, I told Matthew that his freakin' family was ripe for a Tennessee Williams play. If Mick is reading this, I'm sure he'd agree.
My next round of homework is more research on Tennessee Williams and to read a book one of our actors wrote.

Will keep you guys posted as we go.

The show opens Friday 3/21 and runs until Sunday 4/20.

KAREN:     If you need me...I'll just be...uh....down at The Theatre.
(...cue strange high pitched happy noises.)

CURTAIN

A Return of Sorts

Lots of you guys already know this, and to quote a phrase my old boss used to say about past work experiences, "In a previous life...."
I worked at Walt Disney World.

I was there for about 4 years starting the summer before my senior year of high school.  Hired in to be a cast member for Magic Kingdom attractions/entertainment (which ended up being more of a food service with a show, but I'll get to that later) at The Diamond Horseshoe Saloon Review & Medicine Show.
It's closed now - probably being used as storage or a character meet & greet space (just like the Animation Studio at "Hollywood Studios" is a cold empty husk of the magic it once held).
While it was open, we served cold sammiches and chips and ice cream and sodas while a stage show with magicians, singing cowboys, and can-can girls performed.
It was an entertaining food service attraction.
We dared to blur the line between departments.
Because of this, I was able to cross-train at a few other close by attractions like Haunted Mansion, which was the best because it was the only place you could give your face a rest from all that smiling and being nice to people.
(...hello, Jesse. consider this a virtual hug.)

(awkward pic pose)

2 years later, I moved over to Typhoon Lagoon to be a lifeguard.  But not one of those cool lifeguards like those that got to dive the shark reef for most of the day or like the guys standing above the wave pool.  I was a shallow water guard.  Which meant watching people float down a lazyass river, telling kids not to climb rocks, ster-bac bluing the snorkel gear, and tube stacking.
Before we were even allowed to stand poolside with our whistles, there was, of course, a certification class where were taught CPR and other life-saving techniques in the deep end of a pool at a YMCA.  An older gentlemen in our class ended up having a heart attack in the pool during a session and we had to do a real life emergency rescue....

Anyway, during this lifeguarding phase, I was also taking classes over at Valencia 3 days a week and working 12-14hr days. Sometimes picking up event shifts that had me clocked in from 6a.m. to 3 or 4a.m.
Make no mistake, lifeguards party just as hard as they work and I had some of the best drunken nights of my life that I probably shouldn't remember.
(...Neil?? I think you're the only one from back then who may or may not read this. HI!! ...also, luckily for us, I can't find any pictures at the moment.)

The park would close for two months in the Florida "winter" for renovations & maintenance and would send its cast members to the other parks and resorts on property. I was sent into retail at a gift shop at the then-named Disney Institute (now called Saratoga Springs) which was the most boring gig but gave me an awesome opportunity to do a claymation short film as a part of the resort's "area awareness" training.
The resort used to run 2hr workshops that people could take in gardening, animation & claymation, and a few random other things....photography was in there, I think.  Apparently, people don't want to learn on vacation because it doesn't appear they do that stuff anymore.
That day in the claymation shop, we were broken off into 4 groups of 3 or 4 and my group was inspired by Bambi Meets Godzilla (below) so we did a similar little ditty but instead it was a pink poodle floating down a river on a raft and it gets eaten by a purple tentacled monster from below.
It took us 2hrs to complete a 12 second clip.  Will do some digging to see if it's hidden in a box in a closet somewhere.

When Typhoon reopened, I went back to lifeguarding before itching to get back to the entertainment side of things and auditioned to be in....no...wait....to be A Friend Of the Disney Characters and ended up being great friends with Rafiki, Pluto, & Eeyore over at Camp Minnie Mickey (recently closed) at the Animal Kingdom (...hello, Bambi, Michelle, Jen, & whoever else may be lurking....HUGS!!) just after its Grand Opening.
(Had some pretty fuckin' awesome drunken nights while I was here, too.  *daydreamy sigh*)
(bleh....some not so awesome, too)

And then I tried to swing into being a Puppeteer for the Lion King Show (recently closed) over at Disney's Animal Kingdom but got caught up in a stupid union thing that fucked over my chance. Pissed off (mostly with myself), I picked up odd shifts here and there, becoming friends with Brer Fox, Mr. Smee, and Wendell the Country Bear over at other parks & resorts and then left to become a photographer at Animal Kingdom (3rd party), which was still kinda fun because then I was taking pictures of all my friends who were Friends of Disney Characters, but really kinda sucked because we were doing the same framing, seeing the same character poses...for hours, for days, for months.  And with a shitty manager.
I got burnt out.  Fast.

Completely disenchanted & struggling, I left theme parks/entertainment/hospitality all together to go swimming in the tech pool for about 14 years.

And, so here we are.  15 years later and I've returned to entertainment.
In the form of Mad Cow Theatre.
Which, unbeknownst to most of you, has been a goal of mine for the past year+ and is on my list of things to accomplish for 2014.
I seriously couldn't be happier or more excited at present and will share more details next week!!

ARGH - CLIFFHANGER!!