you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means

i seem to have a speech impediment.

what i _thought_ i was saying to the lady on the phone was "we are too busy to give time to the special project you're working on this week, as it's a little insane here. come by next week and we'll talk about it."

but what i was apparently _actually_ saying was "come over here right now and talk to every staff member you encounter about this in an urgent, yet passive aggressive manner. make especially sure to find the busiest staff member and set her to looking for a binder of clippings that's been lost for 3 years."

maybe it would help if i stuttered more next time.

i'll take the hands and face from off the clock, picture

i'll take the hands and face from off the clock

so last night i made a finger puppet in about 90ish minutes. no picture 'cause it was quite late (1am) by the time i'd finished.

well, and also because i'd no sooner gotten the little dude stitched together than i figured out about 3 things i wished i'd done differently.

no big deal to make another one, probably will go faster this time. i just don't want the 1st one to get lost in obscurity through my lack of skill/planning. maybe i can salvage him by making him an evil twin version of the 2nd and better one.

maybe i should work on not anthropomorphizing the puppets more than I absolutely havet to.

yeah.

i don't think that i can take it, 'cause it took so long

i don't normally keep tabs on the SLOG, not from any sense of disdain or anything, merely because i lack the time, what with its being updated every 17 seconds and all.

however, last week i needed to, and i'm glad i did, because i was pointed to this delighfully horrifying site.

this one is my favourite (so far):

there's someone in my head but it's not me

our 4th grade librarian gave us two helpful phrases to help us remember the difference between an atlas and an almanac:

AT LASt I can see the world
ALl MAN's ACts

so whenever i see one of either of these types of books, this pops into my head.

i've decided to blame this mental squatter for my difficulty remembering to move my car at 1pm every day before it gets ticketed.

i think the ticketing company will totally accept this excuse.

the world and i, we are still waiting

let's not focus on how long ago i began working on this potholder. let's just enjoy its being finished.

from the Oh Yes, Perhaps This Is Why People Think Marketers Are Evil File:

"Screw the ushers! Sell the fucking seats!"

in the right measure

is it just me, or is the divine tim gunn just a touch more openly snarky this season? methinks those delinquents over at liz clayborne have been a bad influence.

what's halley's comet done lately? ooh oohooh ooh yeah

approximately 53 years from now, halley's comet will come back and (if it hasn't been lost) (if anyone cares) a time capsule my SEE class made will be opened.

in it will be a VCR tape which, among other things, will reveal (if it hasn't disintegrated) (if the technology to play it hasn't been utterly lost) a chubby kid singing a song called The Comet Show.

it is not a good song. it doesn't rhyme, the tune is laughably mundane. but it was my song. chubby boy stole it.

i was going to ask here whether, at the ripe old age of 85, (if i'm still alive) (if i make the trip for The Opening) we think it's possible that i'll still be bitter that chubby kid got all the credit for my song.

but really? of course i will.

thing is, what he did, all he did was sing the damn thing louder than i did.

the question is, why did i let him?

(and let that inform my character...)

you can check out any time you like

one of the big changes i find in myself as i become an older actor, besides auditioning for way less, is my attitude towards hope.

him "how'd the audition go?"
me "it went really well, but since i didn't hear back today, i'm thinking it's a no go."
him "mmm."
me "i spose it's possible they're just thinking on it a day."
him "naw, no way. you're not in."
me "thanks, man."

see? ten, or even five, years ago, that "thanks, man" would've been sarcastic. in this case it was lightly caustic but mostly sincere.

in my early 20s i clung to the false hope of casting for as long as possible. this was easy to do in St. Louis, where they generally don't call you if you're not in. so you can keep hoping right up to the night before the 1st reading if you really want.

in seattle, thank goodness, they generally do call or email either way, necessarily cutting the hope frame down to a week or less.

even better, experience has taught me that if they really want you, they call you right away. now 24 hours pass from the end of auditions and i wave hope on it's merry way.

i suppose i should regret this lessening of hope in myself. really, though, post-audition hope is not useful. you only really need enough hope to get you to and through the audition, after that it's just exhausting gravy.

Dear Joss Whedon,

Why don't you like fulfilled love?

(one of) Your (many many) Fan(s),
Raej

misery loves blogging

sure being awake and working pre 8 am on the weekend sucks.

but at least i can blog about it.

the ocean doesn't want me today

i admit: it has been over a year since i was in a show.

i admit further: i find this fact rather embarrassing.

and here is a muppet news flash...

the only thing keeping me from booking a flight to d.c. right the freak now, is that this exhibit is coming here on the nearer end of the 3 year tour.

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

and how i got to where i am

i'm bad about not finishing stories. know, then, that mom's MRI came back negative. hurray!

everyone you meet, they're jamming in the street

so it's streetfairtime round these worky parts.

pros: food court, puppies, bouncy castle

cons: parking, freaks, being deemed too tall for the bouncy castle

con, general: general inability to 'close the deal' in an audition. feh and sigh.

cry me a river

when i need a good weep, my go-to movies are generally "fried green tomatoes" or "what dreams may come". i find they offer the max ratio (for my money) of tears per minute of movie.

"little women" has that one good crying scene, but only one.

"lost in translation" is certainly depressing enough, but it's unfortunately the cloudy kind of depression that stops you from crying. not at all the idea.

any other suggestions? on demand has quite a good catalogue...

most t-shirtable quote of the weekend:

"oh yes. dirty, dirty regis philbin."

it ain't me, it ain't me

lame truth be told, i was actually totally not in the mood for a 3 day weekend.
yeah.
we're within a week of opening a show at The Job and such is the rhythm of the beast: my body takes that time like My Own Private Tech Week (now! with 25% more sleep!).
so it's hard (ie, impossible) for me to relax in any useful way.
so i worked a couple hours both friday and saturday.
it continues to be a pleasant buzz of oddity to me how i don't hate my job.
i even seem to feel some responsibility towards it.
weird.
this doesn't make me a grown-up.
really.
shut up.

runnin away with me

found out from my sister last night that mom's going in for an MRI this week for some dizzy spells. woof. trying hard not to worry about it.

the way you love me is frightening

i would horribly remiss if i didn't give a joyous shout out to last night's massive thunderstorms, since they're one of the things i miss about midwestern weather.

when the first crack sounded 'round 6, i pounded downstairs from the office like a kid on christmas morning, eager to find a window and watch the lightning. on the way home i squeed into the phone each time i spied another flash. (sorry, yo.) and a fresh batch of booming woke me out of REM sleep and i seriously considered going upstairs to the deck to watch.....but fell back asleep before i could even roll over.

i'm in serious danger of not regretting the greenhouse effect as i should, if it gets me thunderstorms every once in awhile.

i'm sure the snow at the other end of the year will remind me to hate it again.

we ain't here to hurt nobody

the outgoing* devo director and i were in the parking lot behind The Job, eyes on the ground, occasionally bending to peer under cars, clearly looking for something** when a truck pulled into the nose-on adjacent parking space.

we glanced up. everything looked normal. we turned back to the ground.

the truck nosed slightly over the line between its space and ours. we glanced up, smirked at each other and continued our search.

the truck lurched forward. we stared at it with 2 Stern WTF Faces.

old lady driving the truck: "i want to be able to just pull out when i leave."
devo dir: "the hell?"
me: "if you can't back out, maybe you should be driving something smaller."
old lady: "move!"
devo dir: "jesus woman"
me: "screw you lady."
old lady: "oh for pete's sake."

we walked away from the truck.

me (sotto voce): "maybe we shouldn't go back into the building until she leaves."
devo dir: "good call."
(pause)
devo dir: "let's go get some ice cream***."
me: "hurray!"

* in both senses of the word
** my keys. i thought they were lost. it turned out they were at the bottom of my messenger bag.
*** believe it or not, the old lady walked into the ice cream place. it was rather awkward.