Falling asleep...

Stupidity du jour:


You are Tweety

You are cute, and everyone loves you. You are a
best friend that no one takes the chance of
losing. You never hurt feelings and seldom have
your own feelings hurt. Life is a breeze. You
are witty, and calm most of the time. Just keep
clear of backstabbers, and you are worry free.


Which Cartoon Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Rehearsal went well - alleluia. I love my job.

Had Fr. Jonathan over today for tea (well, lemonade). Mass tomorrow - feast of Sts. Peter and Paul - adoration after - alleluia!

Finished making MAAD DVD...with (drumroll please) actual cool printed jewelcase covers - front AND back - aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand (increase timpani) A CD STICKY COVER!

I'm a little, but just a little, saddened, that it's so easy to make semi-pro DVD/CD accoutrements. Sort of takes the mystery out of it. A trip to Office Max and...zip.

Going to see Krissy-tina this weekend. La la la!

Bartimeus is a really, really, addictive book. Like Wrede or DWJ. So far very recommendable.

Mood: SleeeeeeePY!
Music: Luminosa - I'd forgotten how beautiful it is.
Thunk: I wish my roof, their floor, was soundproof....

I have realized why

I'm having such a ridiculously difficult time coming up with the detailed schedule for KMK: I'm accustomed to only calling in actors as they're needed. Since they are ALL called, whether I really "need" them or not, I feel obliged to keep them all busy. However, it's looking more and more like I simply will not be able to do so! AAAAAAAAARGH! I hated sitting for hours in the audience, just staring at the main actors and thinking, "Oh, I could do this so much better." It's not a good thing. It's a situation to be avoided at all costs. Nnngh. This and juggling two other people's schedules.... Lord, I really need clarity. I've tried coming at this from every conceivable angle, and still feel at a loss. On the good side, I finished editing Much Ado. Will be making DVD overnight. At least one thing is DONE!

Mood: AAAAAAAUGH! Run around in circles, screaming!
Music: Currently, Wicked. Various other things throughout the night.
Thought: HP5 is better upon rereading (the last third, anywho), but still lacks something that the first three possessed. Most noticeably: an editor. Less obviously: a tightly constructed plot.

Oh, how delightful!

For the Lord God, omnipotent, reigneth!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
And He shall reign forever and ever!

Regard this charming poem by Belloc: Poetry Archives @ eMule.com. Oh, Lord, how long have we prayed and prayed and felt despondant because we had no shepherd, we had no good and faithful and fearless priest to serve us! How long have we taken on faith the sacraments, because You seemed ever more hidden in Your servants, hidden by them. And today - alleluia! - we have a priest! A wonderful, faithful, holy priest, completely in love with You, desirous to be Your servant first and foremost, a priest of prayer, a sacramental priest, a priest in love with You in the Eucharist, a priest in love with Your mother, a priest in love with Your Church, a priest forever in the line of Melchisedeck! Alleluia! I am dancing; I am so grateful!

Mood: Elated
Music: Mental Handel
Reading: Blessings in Disguise, Sir Alec Guiness's memoirs - fascinating.

D-mn d-mn d-mn d-mn d-mn

I simply am not a nice person. I can't even come in and say "Hello," no - I go all silent and defensive. And you know the frustrating thing? I even apologized twice this afternoon - and forced myself to make some semblance of small talk this evening and...had they just told me that I needed to leave, that they were in the middle of a conversation...! But I have been told the conversation didn't end at a horrible place - but that I was rude and cold. After, I should add, being assured six hours earlier that I am not rude and cold. And now certain radars will be up about my R&Cedness so that I can be less of a pest, apparently. The monks have it right. And I am far too like my students with this current whining. My one consolation this night is Alec Guiness' memoirs. Thank God for other irascible Catholic artists who loathe their own inability to subsume the ever-present Ego. Yet if he can strive to do so, so can I.

Simply put, though, I think I must admit that all my current brand of stupidity stems from residual - and real - melodrama. I am affixed to the second tier of Purgatory, with all its pettiness. And the ever-increasing sense, most likely fixed solely in my own imagination, that upon the second party's part is the greatest and escalating sense of relief that I am not The One. And with that, concurrently, is the sense that he is right in a far more finite and general sense. And concurrent with that is the almost certain - and again, most likely absurd - notion that my very presence is distasteful. Which, in turn, makes me feel (although not be in reality) trapped within my own home. More than anything, I feel as though I might be summed up as, "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

Discarded, passed-over
By one once sought
And now no longer desired
Except to be in good graces
Which goodness
Which graces
Slip
Fade
Vanish.

And all this - alas! - after a surprisingly restful rehearsal. (Tangent...or return? I think a lot of this stems from simply misunderstanding of importance of things in each other's lives. In the dangling conversation....) Most of it was spent with Moe practicing with the entire cast, while I got to know Grace. And then I grabbed the gangsters and ran them through lines and character stuff. I think I must have seemed extremely sphinxish to them - and I must remind myself of my first impression of my Shakespeare tutors ("No, no, no, darling! Put a capital letter on it, that's a dear"). Def. rehearsals for the next three Fridays. We might as well round it out, eh? (Tangental return, again: Feeeeeeeeeeeeling! Nothing more than feeeeeeeeelings! Whoa whoa whoa.)

I think that I need to simply call a friend. Yet all my evenings are taken up! Money may need to be laid out to make a daytime call. A rather violent, and yet philologically displaced swear-word burbles to my lips. I shall not speak it. I'm going to go to sleep, if I can (couldn't last night), and pray that I can rise for Mass. I need Mass. Perhaps I also need to move out. For why? So I can truly be in relation to no one? Become a dramatic Miss Haversham? Have no money in truth? Leave my family penniless? Oh, GOD! What is a wretch like me to do? (And even as I write that and run my fingers through my hair, the absurd and wonderfully common thought arises: like me or like I?) Ego, little ego, get you down. Humility, come and be my bedfellow. Teach me how to smile when I am tired, how to be pleasant when I am sad, how to be kindly when I am seething, how to be gentle when I speak, how to be patient when I listen, how to give with no hope of return, how to be with no desire for shining. Oh, God, let me not be anathema. Give me Your gifts and fruits. Comfort me and mould me; make me like You. Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.

Mood: Voir en haute
Music: None, nor never none shall be
Thought: How the quick, casual word can change an entire evening.
Why not? Draconish. *sigh* Yup.


You are Long-wang!

Mythological Background: Yes, the dragon represents
everything you think of when you think of a
dragon - fearsome and invincible. Also, it is
greatly respected just because of that fact.
The dragon has a very protective aspect to it.
Even Jupiter reminds you of intense smashing
power. The dragon is almost always surrounded
by rain-bearing clouds and fog; and the
appearance of its constellation always signals
rainfall and lightning. It's also a symbol of
authority worn by the nobility and the imperial
class. Japanese Name: Seiryuu.


Which Chinese Mythological Being Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thee, thou, thy, thine

*sigh* I Hate Men from KMK was just on. She's addressing all the women in the audience and is using "thou" and "thee." I mean, honestly, who confuses their plural and singular pronouns? Anywho....

I just finished doing a preliminary detailed cast list, naming each character - on-stage and off. Several people have multiple roles - this is a good thing. Should be fun. I'm far more confident today. Could be the loss of five pounds this week! Alleluia! It's been so long!

I have confidence in sunshine!
I have confidence in rain!
I have confidence
That spring will come again!
Because you can see:
I have confidence in me!

Strength doesn't lie in numbers;
Strength doesn't lie in wealth;
Strength lies in nights of
Peaceful slumbers
When you wake up -
WAKE UP!
It's healthy!

All I love I give my heart to;
All I love becomes my own!
I have confidence in confidence alone....

...oh help...

I have confidence - in - con-fi-dence -
A-LOOOOONE!...

Because you can SEE:
I have confidence in meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Well, techincally I don't know if it's confidence in me, but it is a great song.

Got through editing the aborted wedding in Much Ado. Managed to convince Jules to drop the car for Mom so I don't have to pick Mom up, since I have to give a ride to the Gibbons. Must remember to do paperwork for Hilary. I love my producer. Producers are from God. Managed to explain the belief in the True Presence to my Jenny Craig consultant - curious that. Have put in a wash...and turned it over! (It's the little things in life....) Have apparently decided to make love to ellipsoids. Hrumph. ("I can't make love to a BUSH!" Bwahahahhahahahahhah.)

Missed Mass this morning again - aaaaaaaugh! I had set my alarm and everything and then, simply, woke up too late, and so collapsed back and frustrated myself by not waking up until two hours later. Note to self: I will train myself to wake up for morning Mass this Summer! I WILL train myself to wake up for morning Mass this Summer!!!

It's amazing how reorchestration of a song can completely make or break a song. Evita reorchestrated is marvellous; "Too Darn Hot" is awesome reorchestrated; the odd version of "I Will Survive" that came out back in the mid-90's had no rhythm. So...there.

Mentioned to Hilary possibility of doing a Spring Chamber Theatre. Here's to hoping it goes through! Went with Mom to Borders' coffee shop yesterday where I talked her ear off about Murder in the Cathedral and Tartuffe. We will do them, precious, yesssssss yessssssssssss. *Insert meddling hands here* Otherwise, the goal of this weekend is to block, block, block, block!!!

Terribly sorry for such a silly update that ends up being more of a to do list. Ugh - I am such a workaholic. I've been comparing myself lately to Jules who is so sweet, so giving, so concerned first for others, so uncomplaining, so self-controlled, so restrained...and here am I, more passionate than I admit to myself, proud, self-centered, frantic, domineering.... Is it any wonder, really, that I have found myself where I am re: Real Life? Something is wrong when I am kindlier on-stage than off. But even here I exaggerate. Perhaps this is why I dislike emotion so: I dislike not being in control and I am exhasperated to find it within me. And yet, let me consider who I was in highschool: I let no one get close to me, I certainly would never reveal who I really was, nor would I admit to being hurt nor would it be "cool" to be wholly happy. But even here I exaggerate - this darn writer's curse to make things more than they are! Is it a sort of professional myopic tendency, to magnify everything in writing in order to better observe the minutia? Yes, I think that is correct (and non-hyperbolic). But the truth, without exaggeration, is that thanks to theatre and college and life and God, I have opened up more and allowed myself to bleed more on stage. But how to stanch that in real life? Or rather, having found a heart, I need veins. That's a messy metaphor! And I am slipping into hyperbole again. And I wish there were more than two concise words for exaggeration and hyperbole in the English language.

So, welcome to life, Em. Congrats: we're none of us born perfect. And life is granted us to learn how to become whom we are meant to be. Strive for Heaven, remember Dante, and have patience with oneself. And there will be time, there will be time.

Mood Je suis voicie, et c'est bon.
Music: KMK, what else?
Thought: I think I've a little bit of time before I have to leave. My initial thought is to panic: what have I forgotten to do! My second reaction is to laugh: silly Emily!

As it is written, so it is cast

(Tangent, before one even has a chance to spot the thesis!: Curious how we come up with these titles, iddn't it?)

So, casting finished tonight. And a good night it is when you get through everything you meant to get through and end up a night ahead of where you thought you'd be! Hoopla! Oh, but I am so thinking that I may need to do Fridays, after all. Five nights a week.... We'll see.

This is a curious occurrence. A new one - or one that I haven't experienced in quite a while. I find myself, surprisingly, unsure of my ability - not to block, not to direct a whole show, nor even a musical - but unsure of my ability to really mould an actor. I haven't run up against an actor set in his ways in quite a while...at least, not in a show that demanded he or she change significantly. I think what I really fear is not my own ability, but rather I shudder to think that I have become the director whom I loathe the most: the lazy director. Have I, in all my proud ways, actually not taken chances on actors, but rather cast those who "fit" best? Have I reneged on my own secret promises to mould actors rather than rely on convenience? Yet, there is a certain amount of stupidity even in that thought: one chooses an actor to play a role because there is a glimmer of the character there - a glimmer which can be sparked into a flame. This is not a glimmer: it is a telegraph from Western Union, and just as cold and cheerlessly precise. I hope, I pray, that they will let me really mould them in the short time I have. They have the ability, they have the talent, they have the inclination - now they need the subtlety. And that is my fear: can I, who have through necessity and through, yes, convenience, and further, theoretical pride, eschewed subtlety myself recover subtlely in this unlikeliest of venues? This is a new challenge. But, I must remind myself, surely not one insurmountable.

Mood: A curious blend: anxious, determined, concerned, terrified, courageous....
Music: The Mellow Me mix
Truth: Were things other than they are, there should have been some very different casting indeed. I am determined that each member shall create character. As God is my witness...!
Truth Redux: Duck duck goose and Toothless vegetable are two of the best games ever invented

I Hate Musicals

Or rather, I hate the inherent "rigged"-ness of musicals. Which is to say: if you ain't a triple threat.... *sigh* Plays are so much more democratic. Anywho, now that Quizilla is working again, this seems to fit!


Insular Majuscule- You are spiritual and well
rounded. People look to you for advice, but
sometimes find you difficult to understand.


What Calligraphy Hand Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Must sleep. Adoration tomorrow - alleluia! Good rehearsal tonight. Going overtime tomorrow (today) to do coldish (lukewarm? reheated?) readthroughs. Then actual readthrough. Then all rehearsal then leads rehearsal than perhaps another rehearsal depending - certainly opera - and I have apparently abandoned the comma altogether. Must sleep. Heart breaking. Casting is from hell. Naw - it's just frustrating. However, we're going to have an awesome show.

Mood: Disgruntled at givens
Music: Mental "Tom, Dick or Harry" - get out get OUT! I think I'll put on Faire Celts
Thought: Yeah, so back to the idea of making Man 2 a mobster's moll...?!

Return to Randominity

Because I'm too lazy to think in paragraphs.

I'm still not sure how to fully relate. It has its ups and downs and I feel more than ever that I'm simply Fortune's Fool (or at least a Prattling Fool - yeah, I'm a PF). Sigh.

Pre-Production Stage Shift: one day before the beginning of KMK and I am at the "What? Oh, gee, yeah, I'm starting a show tomorrow. Shoot. I don't feel at the least anxious. Shoot - this could be bad. Oh, Lord! Give me butterflies!" This will be followed by tomorrow's flock of butterflies armed with Potchgultian needles. Oy.

I like my producer. She is a good producer. Thank God for producers!

Yesterday's dance recital went very well and at a good pace - which is remarkable for any recital. The opening was my favorite - AMAZING tap number to an orchestral version of the title to 42nd Street. Trav's solo was wonderful - esp. the amazing backbend with one arm raised to the Heavens. Nice silhouette - it ought to be on a cover somewhere.

Am in the middle of finishing up Character List for tomorrow's audition. I want to get together set ideas as well. Be Prepared! Or as prepared as possible. Mr. Dougherty would be proud. Now I just need to get a binder for my script.... And a few other essential things to make me feel like I'm ready for any contingency.

Editing has been delayed thanks to KMK. I should have expected it - my life really is ruled by play seasons - but that means I'll have to make my apologies to Grace. I feel like an idiot - but I think she'll forgive me if I have to put it off until Wednesday. There shouldn't be too much I need to get together for the first read-through/rehearsal (whichever it ends up being), thank God!

So I figured out how to make overlapping images that allow through video. HOOPLA! Now if only I can figure out how ArcSoft did those awesome "frames." I tried building my frame based around what I saw in their files, but it wouldn't load at all. Weird.

I am lonely. This seems to be a common refrain among many, and I feel rather plebian (not to say whiney) adding my name to that list, however - to become metaphysical - I can't help but think that this is not an unnatural state in this world. But I become metaphysical simply to cover up the very simple reaction, to which even prideful I am subject: I am lonely.

Barbara Nicolosi over on her blog wrote about society's loss of satire. This is something I've thought for quite a while: when nothing is sacred, when there are no norms, there can be no satire. At its best, satire should recall us back to normalcy - but if we deny reality, if we live in a constructed and destructive fantasy, then how can we show reality? But this ought to be the subject of a full essay, and I would do better to save it for a coherent whole rather than this confusing abstract.

Metaphysical obscurity in twenty questions is irritating...but fun.

Not...enough...time...!

Right, I'm sure there was more. There always is. But I really must work on the handouts for tomorrow. AIE!

Mood: Conflicted
Music: The new CD of Kiss Me, Kate - trying to get in the mood.
Thought: There's a disturbing impromptu shrine to Diet Coke on my desk. Hmmm, overcaffinating? Yeah.

Does dance of joy

Over on our writing forum, one of my friends posted a challenge to write what a character might keep in his sock drawer and why (an unusual thing to keep in a sock drawer, naturally). Since I've been working this week at pre-KMK stuff, as well as some other stuff, I didn't get a chance to really look at it and wasn't going to do it but...thanks to Procrastination (TM), I got out at 1.4K word scene for (drumroll) Poityr!!! (Cue: Hail, Hail the Gang's All Here) Hoopla! I love doing Cecile/Roberd scenes. I like those guys so much. Even if she's turning to the dark side. Hmmm, now I've put all this stuff in there, I've got to figure out what it all means. Well, actually, this is the strange thing about being a writer is that I know what it all is/means essentially...I just didn't know it specifically until I wrote it.

Must make DVD for Laurie to give to her at tomorrow's recital. One of the scenes won't be edited - more's the pity. But you know what? Oh well. Now if only I can find my Brigadoon 2 tape! That's the one with all the GREAT close-ups for the Funeral Scene. Dear Saint AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANTHONY! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?!?!?!??!

Oooh, and taking a solitary walk down by the cemetary and then deciding to run in the grass barefoot is muchly wonderful.

Mood: Triumphant but waaaaaaaaaaaaay tired
Music: The recent movie version of Les Miserables - it's my official underscore for all things Arianja
Thought: I don't think I've ever properly run barefoot that I can remember.

How To Waste Time

Quizzes!

This one makes me laugh:

You Are a Feminine Beauty! You make any guy feel like a man, simply by standing next to him You have a classic womanly appeal - and you've got a look for every occasion This doesn't mean that you can't kick back in (designer) jeans and sneakers You just prefer to be girly and sweet as often as possible What Type of Beauty Are You? Take This Quiz :-)

Right, right. Off to do my schedule.

Dude - we already have advertising for KMK. Whooooooooooooooah.

Mood: Gonna make it, gonna make it
Music: Captain from Castille above
Prayer: Oh, Lord! Help me do my work in time! Amen!

...panic...attack...

T-minus-4-days and panicking. Nothing terribly surprising: I always get nervous before beginning a show, so techincally I'm right on schedule. However, that doesn't alleviate the panic mode, regardless. Particularly since I've a full day tomorrow, starting with a 9 a.m. meeting (drat - I'll have to get to bed at a decent hour tonight!) with the team, followed by several opera lessons. Ah ca. This is all good - it just seems as though time is slipping through the glass two at a time.

Schedulage: (in no particular order)

Work on Much Ado editing for Monday

Finish character sheets, detailed rehearsal schedule, and other sundries for tomorrow 9 a.m.

Finish up Brigglekin & Ostrung (working title) for Arx ASAP.

Get audition stuff together

Go to Tempest tonight

Opera lessons tomorrow

Need to check out Robinson's supply of 24 Italian Songs and Arias for opera students

It's not a huuuuuuuuuuuge amount. It's doable. It's not anything that's not been dealt with before. It's just the Panic Point of the Production Schedule That They Never Tell You About. Right. Off to work on character sheets. Maybe I'll bring the script with me to the show tonight so that during intermission I can mark the bits I want to use for readings. Emily Snyder: The Multitasker!

Mood: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!
Music: 104.5 - yup. I have resorted to radio.
Happiness is: Sharon coming to visit yesterday and discovering Extreme Filmmaker.

The Insomniac Returns

One day out of official school, and already I've reverted to my nocturnal habits. Honestly, this is a tad alarming. Howsomever, what has been keeping me up this time is that I've decided to finish off a little film for myself that we did within the first week we got the camera, back in 2001 - The Ghost of Philippe. Coming to a website near YOU - soon. No comments about my appearance unless you want to congratulate me for having finally lost weight since then. And learnt to turn the nightshot option off. And to make better movies in general.

Tra la! I've got software that lets me go slow-mo! :D Who could ask for anything more?




Mood: Creative, nyah!
Music: I admit, Attack of the Clones
Thought: It's amazing what editing can do to spice up anything.
Squee!: I'm presenting The Ghost of Philippe in W I D E S C R E E N! BOO-yeah, baby!

Freely Given, Freely Received

A report on FanzillaCon is due - perhaps tomorrow, perhaps only for Mom and Dad's ears - but suffice it to say that it's sent me back to my DV editing stuff. Currently working on finishing Much Ado just because it requires so little. Otherwise, I think it'll work better to have the "Lie farther off, Lysander" scene as the demo for Dream on the next version of the resume, along with "Poor Wandering One" for Pirates. And I still need to redo E Horo. Nnngh. Otherwise the plan is to save up for the next nine months to be able to afford Adobe After Effects. Yeah...slobber...soooooooooooftware...bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuescreen!

OK, only 20% done on making the movie file...I'll type some more.

One of the main reasons that I like the spirit of FanzillaCon is that it's dedicated to making cinamatography an art like any other art: which is to say, an art not strangleheld by corporations. We don't stop folks from composing, or writing, or drawing, or putting on a play - although each has its particular obstacles when attempting to reach a wider market, or technical difficulties inherent - yet there is a sort of latent hostility against making a film, unless it's done by a Hollywood studio.

The "indy movement" is helping quite a bit in regards to public awareness of Life Outside Hollywood. DV cameras and related software have revolutionized home editing to an extent where the product from someone's basement can sometimes rival the product from a major production house. And the web and direct to DVD are making headway in distribution. Yet, essentially, it's important to realize that cinamatography is an art which ought to be available to those who desire to perfect their own abilities as filmmakers. This is not about competition or money, this is not about box office - this is about art for the sake of beauty and the love of the craft.

Have I mentioned recently how much I really loathe money on general principles?

On a more personal note, I realized that it's been over two years since I made a film FOR film (rather than filming one of my plays and then "translating" it into cinemaspeak). I rather miss making films. It's awful fun! (And no, alas, the Bearskin pick-up shots, numerous though they may be, do not constitute making a film for film's sake. They simply denote insanity on the part of this director.) Perhaps somewhere inbetween I'll make up all those TGTNNR movies the way they're meant to be. That'd be nice. (Ooooh, if I only had soooooooooooftware to do all the fun stuff I want to do!)

56% complete. Maybe I'll run upstairs for grapes. Yeah. And in the meantime, I leave you with this great film: Pink Five. Yeah, so, this is Stacy? So great! Get 'em, rogue filmmakers! GET 'EM!!!

Mood: Sly
Music: Little Mermaid and the extra memory making funky noises as I make a film file. Hmmm, I meant to make it on my computer.
Curiosity du jour: I said two complete rosaries today. And one yesterday. And so I'm all ready for the Glorious mysteries tomorrow. Wow....

Offending Reason

I am an offense to reason. Emotion is an offense to reason. I wish I were Spock. I am too much like Spock. I am being avoidded. I am avoiding. I don't know what to do and have little time in which to do anything. I dislike the alacrity of events and yet know that my perspective is different as one on the outside of things. To experience is to lengthen time; to observe is to shorten it. I am lonely. And incompetent as a kin. All is dross.

Mood: Conflicted
Music: Same as below.
Tomorrow: Fanzillacon. Looks interesting, anywho! *sigh*

Slipping out of Silence

Yesterday was the last day of classes. Today was the last official day for the teachers. Both slipped away in odd silence. There were a few "see you next years!" and "have a good summers!" but far and away people simply...left.

The end of things ought to be heralded by trumpet blasts, with bangs - not with wimpers. Or rather, not with nothing.

I'm reminded - as no doubt I've written before - of my last day as a college student (the classes I've taken since don't really "qualify" as part of the nineteen [NINETEEN!!!] years of non-stop schooling). The only requirement I had remaining me was my senior thesis.

I finished it the afternoon it was due. I printed it up. I collated it. I walked up to the main school building on campus and, for some reason, didn't take the usual door but the (for me) rarely-to-never used side door. I walked up the unfamiliar stairs. I walked down the deserted corridor, turned about at seeing it from the other side. I knocked on my professor's door out of courtesy, but true to his posted hours, he wasn't in.

So I left the summary report of my nineteen years of schooling in the mailbox on his door.

And I left.

And that was it.

No parties, no parades, no sound of thunderous applause for the years I had put into the system, nothing to mark the end of the only life I'd known. Just...silence.

The end of the school year, now, coming at it from the opposite end as a teacher, is hardly as momentous. I'm concerned about closing grades, about exams, about cleaning my room, about pestering guidance to learn what I'm teaching next year, about making sure I take home valuables, about the jobs I'll have this summer, about remembering to actually do prep work this summer for next year. But still.... There never seems to be closure.

Where are the ending credits? Where is the muted montage, filmed in slow-motion, with many smiling faces and silent laughs and hearty claps upon the back, while some ethereal voice sings the closing song to the accompaniament of a simple acoustic guitar? Where, in fact, is the single face long-desired who opens wide His arms and says, "Well done."

I suppose I feel the lack of endings because I'm constantly expecting the ending. Not morbidly, by any means. But expectantly. Impatiently. Perhaps this is why God so often keeps Himself hidden in earthly things: were we to glimpse Him, we should never desire Him to hide again. Were we to visit His perfected earth, we should find little pleasure in the corruptions of this once-Eden. No wonder so many mystics felt so distant from God at the end of their lives - besides being so close to His cross, they could not see Him - they had glimpsed our God and found anything less than absolute communion to be despised.

But God doesn't desire us to despise this earth, nor to abandon it in despair. There is still good here, Mr. Frodo - and it's worth fighting for! This is a mystery: that to achieve His Kingdom we must fight the long defeat to bring His Kingdom to this world which long ago rejected it. I suppose this is redemptive suffering: to know that temporally our cause is lost, and yet that our cause is temporally lost means that we are eternally victorious. This is the mystery of submission: dying to one's self to attain God's eternal life. This is the mystery of humility: to cry that I can do nothing outside of God's providence, and then within His will to strive anyway.

This is how Jesus was able to pray, "I have not lost any of the ones You gave me." None of us are lost, because we have been granted eternal existance - however, we can make that existance a Heaven or a Hell. We can strive fruitlessly against God here and then and so make the mercy of existance a torture, or we can come to know Him, love Him, and so live the most sweetly ever and infinitely with Him.

I only wish that there were fanfares at the end of temporal things. Is this silence Hellish or Heavenly? Have humans stifled sound on this fallen earth, does our irrational fear of death include those smaller deaths? Or are there no good-byes because, in some ways, we hope for that time when the word is expunged from necessity? Silence is the perfectest herald of joy - but there are some silences which are full of sound, and others which are simple voids. I feel the void, now. But I shall fill it up with laughter.

Mood: Strangely but sweetly philosophical
Music: La Luna, Sarah Brightman
Happy Happy Joy Joy: Going to FanzillaCon tomorrow, which Dad is working at! Hoopla! God is good and provides! He gives us rich food to eat and silly movies to see for three days in a row!

Time, time, time

See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please

While avoiding the work of writing, I decided to google this guy I e-mailed with briefly several years ago, when I first became aware of the net during my year of imprisonment from 1999-2000. At that time, I'd sold one short story but hadn't seen it published yet, I'd never completed a novel and I'd never had an article published other than by school magazines. Oh, I had novels in my head, and incomplete novels waiting (and some still waiting) for me to grow up enough to do them justice, but otherwise I had no idea how to "pitch" either my work or myself. And frankly, I had nothing to pitch.

In such a state, I went to the World Fantasy Convention in November of 1999. I was barely six months out of college with not a credit to my name, without a friend in Massachusetts, and with absolutely no idea what the wide world of Fantasy Folk was like. I soon found out. It was full of liberal agenda, Wiccanism, and lots and lots of neo-Goths. That didn't really surprise me. What did surprise me was the sound of people sitting around pitching incomplete novels to other would-be authors who had just as little clout to do anything to further either their own or another's career. I was surprised that they were pitching essentially nothing - since they hadn't even begun to write, or had written impossible tomes, still unfinished. I was surprised at the apathy of many of the participants - or rather the "ennui chic" that so many affected. I was surprised that there was such a dichotomy between the "in crowd" of writers actually writing and publishing and...the rest of us. There wasn't a really a separation of class as the complete ignorance of the former from the latter, and an utter devotion from the latter to the former (under all the carefully applied ennui, of course). I was surprised, naively, that the big publishers weren't wining and dining the authors who had all eagerly gathered to prostrate their works at the publisher's feet - until I realized who were the obnoxious folk ready to pounce on the unwary publisher; then I wasn't surprised at their reticence at all. I was surprised at the BIGNESS of it all.

While I was at the WFC, I met with the fellow I had e-mailed with. To me, he seemed rather impressive - or at least, he seemed to be headed in the savvy direction. He had finished several novels. He had just bought a website (owning a website! Unheard of!). He knew folk at the convention. He was speaking on one of the panels. He knew which floors the parties were on (the weird, Gothic parties, but the parties nonetheless). Now, I wasn't totally taken with this guy - but I did have to bow to him in regard to simple experience.

So, for lack of inspiration for some short stories I'm writing for Arx, I surfed the web. Among my usual sites, I decided to browse the forums over at sff.net, when I remembered this guy. Curious at not finding him on sff.net anymore, I decided to google him (amazing what lengths one goes to when avoiding the dreaded blank page - or at least the dreaded "what exactly does Brigglekin do next?!?!?!?") and discovered that...well, things are different for him now than they were for him a mere four and a half years ago.

Which got me thinking: Time changes a lot of things. Who might look to my small contributions and bow to them, merely because they're currently "more"? Who might google me in the future to discover my corner of the web all but extinct? Who do I admire now? Where am I going to? When next I go to the WFC, to which class will I belong?

Which leads in turn to this consolation: I simply cannot know, but God already does. If I rely upon myself to be my own transcendence, I will stumble and fall. But if I put my faith in God and His plan then I need not fear the passage of time.

Mood: Odd. I had more, but certain conversations changed my thoughts. Ugh for having the wrong words and wrong emotions!
Music: Barber's Adaggio. Fitting.
Thought: Lord, please keep safe all of us, amen.
Edit: All I can say is, Thank God For Mom.

To Beatrice:

Dearest, darling, dead.



Oooooh, YES!

Mood: Hoy-dee-doy-dee-doh.
Music: Van Helsing
Thought: Need to copy tapes of videos onto a single video tonight. Tonys tomorrow - woohoo!

Ooh de lally ooh de lally

Golly what a daaaaaeeeeeee!
(Something wicked comes this way?)

HP3 is certainly the best of all the movies thus far. The hippogriff flying sequence is ET worth the price of admission alone (think the first time you saw ET, or the lighting of the watchfires in ROTK). But best of all? Go to a movie that completely DIES five minutes before the end and get a free pass back to the movies. BOO-yeah! So very fun to go with Jules last night, out until ridiculously late, then watching a thing on dancing at home on a local station, whilst eating Chinese. Now out to walk about the park for a bit (the thing about a couple and a third wheel going is the couple is simply bound to hold hands and the road only allows two abreast and the third wheel is required to either mosey in front or in back: neither a charming prospect). Anywho, my sole complaint is that HP3 isn't dubbed, "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of the Caribbean." Ah well, can't have everything, can you? Hope to write some more this afternoon. Parental units return this evening. Must run the dishwasher before then. Need to finish readying for walk. I hope to hang out with Johnny soon. And public journals are public.

Mood: Eh. Pas mal, mais pas tres ecstatique.
Music: The hum of the computer. Really, our modern world has too much noise.
Something I'm going to do at KMK rehearsals: Dare them to take risks. Ah-HA!

Ich bin WRITING!

*singing*
It's raining adjectives, alleluia!
It's raining verbs, alleluia!
It's raining similies, alleluia!
Hmm, hmm, hmm, I don't really know this song!

HooooooooooooooooooooooopLA! I am writing! Yeah, baby! Emmles got her groove on! (Now St. Rita [play the bongoes] please keep me in your hands and bring me closer to Christ, amen!) Am in middle of writing (finally) The Banishment of the Sun for the first part of the novella. It's SEEEEEEEEEEEEW refreshing to be writing shorter stories - fairy tale MYTH stories. Yeeeees, precious. And now off to get contraband for HP3 so that we don't pay outrageous prices for food at the movie and then off to hold place in said movie line and then write my little heart out more and meet up with Jules and laugh at the plot holes and admire the new director's work (hopefully!). Ooooooooooooooooh, it feel so GOOD to write again!

Mood: I'm-a flinging frog frolicker!
Music: The odd sound of the mantle clock as it rattles rather than tocks.
Movie Last Seen: The Company by Robert Altman and Neve Campbell. Weird, although pretty good for an Altman movie considering that it's basically a fake documentary about a dance company, hence I'm not looking for a plot to begin with - just cool dance moves I can steal. Some weeeeeeeeeeeeeeird dances, though - or rather, costumes. Yeah. I remember now why I enjoyed calculus and organic chemistry....

Hoopla!

This makes me happy:


Let's not bicker and argue about who killed who!


What Monty Python Character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Can someone give me a push?

Anywho, no creativity pour moi, aujourdhui, ah ca. Howsomever, tickets for HP3 were purchased, credit card snafu cleared up with no difficulty, and I got home a full half-hour early. We watched the third Austin Powers movie, which is easily the funniest, and rented The Company which I'm hoping to see tomorrow afternoon if not Saturday. Ballet, here I come! Much typing must be done for KMK tomorrow, however took the day off after yesterday's writing of exams and curriculum. *rassinfrassin* A Mighty Wind is a faboo CD, particularly the Mitch and Mickey songs. SIGH! Great harmonies throughout the entire CD, esp. the Main Street Singers. I bow to the fellow who arranged the melodies - can't recall his name! I have managed to find a large jar candle that actually burnt down its wax evenly. I am suitably impressed. It's odd to see sisterly units cuddling - odd, but good, but odd. I think I may paint my nails tomorrow - take THAT cuticle scum! The Tango from Bearskin is gooooooooooood. As is Man Without a Face. Maybe I'll spend a half-hour editing Brigadoon right now so I can get to Bearskin. Yeah. It's only quarter to midnight! Ugh - just wait until KMK starts and my schedule goes insane again. Whaddaya bet it'll be 3 a.m. mornings once more.... The joys of insomnia. In further news, it looks like Friday afternoons in the Snyder household will be VERY full of opera students, which is awesome if a tad daunting. And the "Duty" song that Brosche sings was going to be the "Come With Me" melody, but is now demanding its own melody and saying I can leave "Come With Me" still for Twelve Dancing Princesses. And the buying of green grapes rather than purple is apparently conducive to not only formulating Act Two, Pentultimate scene for Thrushbeard, but the eating of said grapes seems to lead to the WRITING of the formulated pentultimate scene - with THRUSHBEARD PUNCHING BROSCHE IN THE FACE! YEAH, BABY, YEAH! Hmmm, maybe I should bone up on stage combat for next year so I'm not beating up the actual unfortunate actor....

Mood: Okey-dokey
Music: Mental jukebox of Mighty Wind
Thought: Glade scents are from God

Good Idea, Bad Idea

Things that make me frustrated:

Not knowing schedules beforehand

Having prework to do and not getting my act together enough to do it

Making exams

Writing curricula

Writing (worse) "mapping"

My debit card, for some inexplicable reason, being denied, despite my recent frugality and feeding of the senseless beast two days ago!

Not being able to sleep

Being exceptionally cold downstairs on the cusp of summer

Many many lots houseguests...making it uncouth to walk around in one's skivvies.

Having definitely gained weight

Not being able to purchase for advanced HP3 tickets due to aforementioned stupid debit card issue

Lack of purple grapes at the supermarket

Putting my foot in my mouth

Having lots more curriculum to cover...and no time to cover it in

Writer's block (aka perfectionist editor)

Things that make me glad:

Having a weekend with Jules last weekend

Having the house to ourselves (kinda) these few days

Having cash on hand due to new allowance method which seems to be working and means I can still buy groceries when credit union decides to be a miserly idiot

Having cash to give to parental units

Grocery shopping - fun to be out and about and doing something

Revising Ostrung

Arx

Tales of the Twelve Kingdoms

My leetle choir

My stage managing triad

Beginning to orchestrate Thrushbeard

Realizing a song I had written for Twelve Dancing Princesses seems to actually be one of the few missing songs I needed for Thrushbeard

Coming up with poignant, dramatic, surprisingly pro-life and FWAH dialogue scenes for Thrushbeard whilst looking around the supermarket in vain for purple grapes

Victory chicken salad. Nuff said.

Listening to the Broadway version of Beauty and the Beast and being deeply affected by it again

Beautiful music - mine and others

Clean laundry that I've actually already folded. Nyah.

My room at school

Pride in recent artwork for TotTK

Silly acronyms

Memorial Day/Graduation party and loooooong talks with fellow FUS-ers

Having TONS of projects

Having found peace

The rosary

Mood: My neck has a cramp
Music: "Is This Home" from Beauty and the Beast, not the best of all the songs, but the one that seems to have lodged in my brain. The ending bit is really good with: "Build higher walls around me"...and I forget the rest. "Nothing (laaaa) can (laaaa) hold me in!" FWAH. Je suis Belle.
Thought: I have missed having a real stage manager. This is so good. And...I only have twelve substantial rehearsals with my KMK kids! AAAAAAAAAUGH!
Thought Redux: MSND was good.
Savvy: Vote for Captain Sparrow!