Tuesday, January 30, 2007
raise high the roofbeam, academia.
okay, kittens. i have been keeping this to myself, in order to know how i feel about it, but i'm ready to discuss. with, of course, the caveat that if you actually know me in what the kids call RL, i am not ready to share this information globally, specifically not with anyone who has ties to my program or any similar one. of course, there is always the chance that no one else finds this top secret information! fascinating enough to talk about, but i am not one of those people because i am thinking about it constantly. if i talk to you in the next week, chances are i am using at least 30% brain power to think the same thoughts over and over again, re: the below.
i heard from a couple of Ph.D. programs. first i got a call from this one guy who--i don't think i said this before, but i sent him a dumb fan email because he wrote a good paper on something i was studying, something not a lot of people seem to be doing. anyway, after the email we talked on the phone and he told me i should apply to his Large Research University of Unknown Reputation, since he and i are doing similar work. i did, even though--and this is weird--he teaches in the dance department even though dance does not seem to be part of his current scholarship (or, more obviously, mine). and there is no theatre/performance studies department at his university. i would have a Ph.D. in dance.
okay, so he called last week and was all, your application is on the top of the pile and we're being very aggressive pursuing funding for you and here's how many dollars it would probably be, though we can't promise, and i want you to know how serious we are because we are a little bit afraid that there will be a bidding war over you.
academic drama!
oddly, this didn't make me feel good so much as it sort of stressd me out. this school was sort of the one on the list that made me go, why am i applying here again?, and it just figures that the oddball program i'm unsure-est of is the one that wants me. and it's a city we're lukewarm about, and some worries came up about what if i don't really want a Ph.D., especially if it's at this weird place, and i just go somewhere because i'm so relieved i got chosen for something? also, the "bidding war" part just made me giggle. like B3rkeley and N0rthwestern are really going to throw down over me at sotheby's; a scenario which seems all the more ridiculous when considered in light of last year's experience.
the next day i got an email from an eminent feminist theatre scholar (not the one linked to this blog), saying there was great interest at my work at her Large Research University, and would i let them fly me out for a visit next month and a couple of nights at a nice hotel.
the answer is: yes. yes, i would. holy shit.
so, now? feeling a little bit better. feeling a little more successful than last term. for all i know, this last week may be the extent of the predicted war of bidding, but that would be okay. after all the fruitless auditions, all the MFA rejections, the getting kicked out the conservatory, the horrible horrible new york of my first two years including the times i was so scared and discouraged i couldn't leave the apartment, i'm finally hearing what i suspected in the beginning but had been seriously doubting: i am probably good enough to do this.*
*this: school, theatre, theatre school, adulthood, self-soothing, waking life, academic writing, partnership, work that fulfills. i know i shouldn't need the confirmation from someone else so badly, but: that's how it's been going. no one should need a parade, but it's nice when a little one happens. and for the record? i'm still not entirely sure i'm going anywhere, to study anything. it just feels good that it's a buyer's market right now. onward, mofos.
i heard from a couple of Ph.D. programs. first i got a call from this one guy who--i don't think i said this before, but i sent him a dumb fan email because he wrote a good paper on something i was studying, something not a lot of people seem to be doing. anyway, after the email we talked on the phone and he told me i should apply to his Large Research University of Unknown Reputation, since he and i are doing similar work. i did, even though--and this is weird--he teaches in the dance department even though dance does not seem to be part of his current scholarship (or, more obviously, mine). and there is no theatre/performance studies department at his university. i would have a Ph.D. in dance.
okay, so he called last week and was all, your application is on the top of the pile and we're being very aggressive pursuing funding for you and here's how many dollars it would probably be, though we can't promise, and i want you to know how serious we are because we are a little bit afraid that there will be a bidding war over you.
academic drama!
oddly, this didn't make me feel good so much as it sort of stressd me out. this school was sort of the one on the list that made me go, why am i applying here again?, and it just figures that the oddball program i'm unsure-est of is the one that wants me. and it's a city we're lukewarm about, and some worries came up about what if i don't really want a Ph.D., especially if it's at this weird place, and i just go somewhere because i'm so relieved i got chosen for something? also, the "bidding war" part just made me giggle. like B3rkeley and N0rthwestern are really going to throw down over me at sotheby's; a scenario which seems all the more ridiculous when considered in light of last year's experience.
the next day i got an email from an eminent feminist theatre scholar (not the one linked to this blog), saying there was great interest at my work at her Large Research University, and would i let them fly me out for a visit next month and a couple of nights at a nice hotel.
the answer is: yes. yes, i would. holy shit.
so, now? feeling a little bit better. feeling a little more successful than last term. for all i know, this last week may be the extent of the predicted war of bidding, but that would be okay. after all the fruitless auditions, all the MFA rejections, the getting kicked out the conservatory, the horrible horrible new york of my first two years including the times i was so scared and discouraged i couldn't leave the apartment, i'm finally hearing what i suspected in the beginning but had been seriously doubting: i am probably good enough to do this.*
*this: school, theatre, theatre school, adulthood, self-soothing, waking life, academic writing, partnership, work that fulfills. i know i shouldn't need the confirmation from someone else so badly, but: that's how it's been going. no one should need a parade, but it's nice when a little one happens. and for the record? i'm still not entirely sure i'm going anywhere, to study anything. it just feels good that it's a buyer's market right now. onward, mofos.
Monday, January 29, 2007
try to remember.
so, this happened a while ago, but i was just apprised via a subway advertisement: when jerry orbach died (too soon, way too soon), he donated his eyes.
if there were ever a reason i would wish for my sight to be endangered (which: i know, of course not), it might be so i could have the cornea of lenny briscoe. especially since you just know dick wolf would get off on doing some kind of stunt casting where the young women who have jerry orbach's eyes do a stint on Law & 0rder as under-5s.
if only he had donated his agent. although i'm probably nowhere near the top of the transplant list for that one.
confidential to the gallivanting monkey: did you watch the SAG awards? i quoted you on my sofa. i can't find a photo, but cate blanchett definitely failed not to rock it. my god.
if there were ever a reason i would wish for my sight to be endangered (which: i know, of course not), it might be so i could have the cornea of lenny briscoe. especially since you just know dick wolf would get off on doing some kind of stunt casting where the young women who have jerry orbach's eyes do a stint on Law & 0rder as under-5s.
if only he had donated his agent. although i'm probably nowhere near the top of the transplant list for that one.
confidential to the gallivanting monkey: did you watch the SAG awards? i quoted you on my sofa. i can't find a photo, but cate blanchett definitely failed not to rock it. my god.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
my three favorite emails. of today.
the first one came from internal technical support at my [gigantic redmond-based monopolizing] employer:
Hi,
We have resolved the issue. Kindly let us know if the issue has been resolved.
Thank you
The second came from a new friend from school:
OMG thanks. i had a great time hanging out last night; thanks for everything. PS I dreamt
about your wedding last night and it was amazing, so dont worry because I tend to be psychic, no really, im a scorpio. xoxo
i was just curious about whether i end up wearing a veil, so i asked for details:
so. good to know.
Hi,
We have resolved the issue. Kindly let us know if the issue has been resolved.
Thank you
The second came from a new friend from school:
OMG thanks. i had a great time hanging out last night; thanks for everything. PS I dreamt
about your wedding last night and it was amazing, so dont worry because I tend to be psychic, no really, im a scorpio. xoxo
i was just curious about whether i end up wearing a veil, so i asked for details:
hi okay, well actually you weren't wearing a veil, but you looked stunning, your hair was very vibrant and there were actually pics of you and the monkey in piles of leaves which the monkey and i both thought looked amazing with your hair. Your dress was strapless and stunning and sort of heart shaped at the top and then fitted and the skirt was a little poofy at the bottom, but the shape was simple very elegant. The ceremony was flawless and the reception was really fun, but there was this annoying period between the wedding and the reception in which the monkey's two older female relatives sort of tried to make people eat weird food like fried chicken from buffet tables and my mom changed out of her dress to do yoga which was really rude and annoying, but when we got to the reception hall which was down a spiral staircase in a very happening part of town, everything came together. PS you weren't stressed at all, not even about the monkey's female relatives or my mom. I would just make sure that you have someone taste the reception food if you have not already. Otherwise, I had an amazing time!
so. good to know.
Monday, January 22, 2007
shame where shame is due.
i'm late on the name-calling, but this guy who's suing a homeless man for hanging out near a heat-grate in front of his upscale antiques shop just takes the fucking new york cake. i hear that this particular guy is no cupcake--apparently he regularly tells passersby to burn in hell--but.
one of the things that's weirdest about living here is the lack of certain insulating layers--you're pushed right up against the richest, oddest, most maddening concentrations of wealth and you share the subway with people whose lives make you like minor royalty. nothing seems so apparent as the permanence of the distinctions and the determination of the havesomes and havenots just to keep moving along. i don't mean to call out people who don't do enough; i'm one of them. it's just that i never had to know this about myself before i lived here, that i was the kind of person who could look someone in obvious need in the eye and refuse to help them. repeatedly. maybe panhandling happens everywhere, but in new york--and i guess this happened in san francisco, to some degree, too; maybe it's more about cities in which i don't drive everywhere--people are asking for help all the time, all the time, and they smell bad, and your heart hurts, and you're tired of telling yourself you'll send a check to urban pathways. all the truisms about what they do with that dollar and that cardboard sign is a lie aside, when the person next to you with no shoes begs for help and you don't give it to her, and it happens every day, that makes you different. sometimes it makes me want to get out of here on the next train, and sometimes it makes me feel like everyone should have to live here, just to see the problem.
one of the things that's weirdest about living here is the lack of certain insulating layers--you're pushed right up against the richest, oddest, most maddening concentrations of wealth and you share the subway with people whose lives make you like minor royalty. nothing seems so apparent as the permanence of the distinctions and the determination of the havesomes and havenots just to keep moving along. i don't mean to call out people who don't do enough; i'm one of them. it's just that i never had to know this about myself before i lived here, that i was the kind of person who could look someone in obvious need in the eye and refuse to help them. repeatedly. maybe panhandling happens everywhere, but in new york--and i guess this happened in san francisco, to some degree, too; maybe it's more about cities in which i don't drive everywhere--people are asking for help all the time, all the time, and they smell bad, and your heart hurts, and you're tired of telling yourself you'll send a check to urban pathways. all the truisms about what they do with that dollar and that cardboard sign is a lie aside, when the person next to you with no shoes begs for help and you don't give it to her, and it happens every day, that makes you different. sometimes it makes me want to get out of here on the next train, and sometimes it makes me feel like everyone should have to live here, just to see the problem.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
nice timing, hollywood foreign press association.
everyone who is accomplishing things right now, could you just knock that off?
ugh.
and don't tell me school is this big accomplishment, because i feel like i've spent two-thirds of an ungodly amount of money learning to feel never-quite-smart-enough and completely unseated as to what the next thing is, or if there is anything i actually want that i am capable of achieving. i don't know where the fuck we're going or who's going to make the bacon or when we'll have the stability to start making babies or if i can even do that. so everyone who is doing good work right now, please do not mind if i cry when i see you or shut my eyes and sing nonsense real loud to block it out. you are more than i can handle this week, even if i love you.
classes start on thursday. i'm hoping the dread i suddenly feel is mislaced. i know there'll be some excellent stuff in there, but jesus god. i'm just exhausted and wanting to get married already.
edit.
I WILL EAT THREE MINIATURE PEPPERMINT PATTIES AND THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER.
you know what this is? this is about discipline. i am instituting a regime. i am forming a coup. (forming? catalyzing?) somehow, i think tough love is going to make this one better, so: no television, one hour of computer time minus dayjob or specific wedding tasks, some seroius cleaning and three vegetables a day. early rising. i am making rules. starting right now. vacation is over. no shame, no punishment, just some serious discipline, as if enforced from the outside by someone with moral authority.
i am saying this precisely so you can judge me if i barf it: six weeks minimum of austerity measures. beginning now. we'll see what this does.
ugh.
and don't tell me school is this big accomplishment, because i feel like i've spent two-thirds of an ungodly amount of money learning to feel never-quite-smart-enough and completely unseated as to what the next thing is, or if there is anything i actually want that i am capable of achieving. i don't know where the fuck we're going or who's going to make the bacon or when we'll have the stability to start making babies or if i can even do that. so everyone who is doing good work right now, please do not mind if i cry when i see you or shut my eyes and sing nonsense real loud to block it out. you are more than i can handle this week, even if i love you.
classes start on thursday. i'm hoping the dread i suddenly feel is mislaced. i know there'll be some excellent stuff in there, but jesus god. i'm just exhausted and wanting to get married already.
edit.
I WILL EAT THREE MINIATURE PEPPERMINT PATTIES AND THEN I WILL FEEL BETTER.
you know what this is? this is about discipline. i am instituting a regime. i am forming a coup. (forming? catalyzing?) somehow, i think tough love is going to make this one better, so: no television, one hour of computer time minus dayjob or specific wedding tasks, some seroius cleaning and three vegetables a day. early rising. i am making rules. starting right now. vacation is over. no shame, no punishment, just some serious discipline, as if enforced from the outside by someone with moral authority.
i am saying this precisely so you can judge me if i barf it: six weeks minimum of austerity measures. beginning now. we'll see what this does.
Monday, January 15, 2007
dolt.
the graduate center at CUNY accepts applications on a rolling basis until march. if you want to be considered for financial aid, though, you gotta get it in on january 15th.
today.
martin luther king day, on which public institutions are closed. i just called; of course the office of admissions is an unpeopled wasteland.
i could have turned it in on friday or over the weekend, but i was all, hey, i have until monday, let's take a nap!
today.
martin luther king day, on which public institutions are closed. i just called; of course the office of admissions is an unpeopled wasteland.
i could have turned it in on friday or over the weekend, but i was all, hey, i have until monday, let's take a nap!
Friday, January 12, 2007
old ladyship.
reader, i am losing my hair.
literally. i mean, it's been coming out in the shower so much that i got concerned and made the monkey promise to tell me if it started looking thin. over a year ago, i got this terrible haircut where the lady thinned my hair out with those awful thinning shears. i kept waiting for it to recover, and it never really has--plus the massive shower shedding, plus i have this one aunt who, by her forties, had next to no hair. there are clearly some bad hair genes on one side.
i asked a college friend who hasn't seen me on a daily basis in a while if she could appreciate a change, and she said yes. so my mom bought me some very expensive vanity shampoo and i'm trying to make sure i take a vitamin every day and eat things other than baked potato chips.
here's the thing: while i was at home, even before the special shampoo? i checked the drain for hair after every shower as is my wont, and there wasn't a single red-headed nest in the strainer. i lost no hair on vacation. and my skin cleared up.
school is turning me into a bald person with acne and heartburn. or maybe it's new york--the hair thing started over a year ago.
i must relax. and yeah, go to the doctor--i'm on it--but, jeebus. if it's going to be one of those YOU MUST RELAX things, i don't know what i'm going to do. i've been trying not to be so stressed out since i was eight. i am unconfident of my ability to operate within another paradigm. maybe i will just get some wigs.
literally. i mean, it's been coming out in the shower so much that i got concerned and made the monkey promise to tell me if it started looking thin. over a year ago, i got this terrible haircut where the lady thinned my hair out with those awful thinning shears. i kept waiting for it to recover, and it never really has--plus the massive shower shedding, plus i have this one aunt who, by her forties, had next to no hair. there are clearly some bad hair genes on one side.
i asked a college friend who hasn't seen me on a daily basis in a while if she could appreciate a change, and she said yes. so my mom bought me some very expensive vanity shampoo and i'm trying to make sure i take a vitamin every day and eat things other than baked potato chips.
here's the thing: while i was at home, even before the special shampoo? i checked the drain for hair after every shower as is my wont, and there wasn't a single red-headed nest in the strainer. i lost no hair on vacation. and my skin cleared up.
school is turning me into a bald person with acne and heartburn. or maybe it's new york--the hair thing started over a year ago.
i must relax. and yeah, go to the doctor--i'm on it--but, jeebus. if it's going to be one of those YOU MUST RELAX things, i don't know what i'm going to do. i've been trying not to be so stressed out since i was eight. i am unconfident of my ability to operate within another paradigm. maybe i will just get some wigs.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
grah.
blogger is making me do some strange google stuff. back in a few.
Monday, January 01, 2007
the jackpot question.
the only way new year's eve could have been better is if it were still going on.
oh, such a time. i saw all these people, and they were happy, and they were happy to see me, and then i got on stage and did something sort of ridiculous and one of the band members knocked my chair over and i was pinned between an amp, a former crush and a ridiculous table until the rock star came over and lifted me out by my armpits, and then i blew out the candle stuck in the chianti bottle and then the real stuff started.
the second half of the abbey road album, and i watched from the stage door, which was probably bad manners but, jesus fuck. i don't think i could have planned something better with an entire think tank behind me. i even spent some time talking to that one guy i'm never sure is going to be glad to see me (or rather that i'm not going to be glad to have him see me, that it is going to be this giant reminder of a time in which i was considered That Girl, the one who Behaved That Way), and that was . . . fine. i even got a perfectly non-weird platonic new year's kiss. from, like, five beautiful musician boys.
oh. it was so entirely lovely.
and then i got home and the monkey had emailed me a new year's present: him and his piano, crooning me a song. what am i doing new year's, new year's eve? i feel that it is possible that every one since now i will be remembering being stuck under that table on stage and then the beatles and then hugging so many people.
also, it is now the year in which i am getting married. i could plotz.
oh, such a time. i saw all these people, and they were happy, and they were happy to see me, and then i got on stage and did something sort of ridiculous and one of the band members knocked my chair over and i was pinned between an amp, a former crush and a ridiculous table until the rock star came over and lifted me out by my armpits, and then i blew out the candle stuck in the chianti bottle and then the real stuff started.
the second half of the abbey road album, and i watched from the stage door, which was probably bad manners but, jesus fuck. i don't think i could have planned something better with an entire think tank behind me. i even spent some time talking to that one guy i'm never sure is going to be glad to see me (or rather that i'm not going to be glad to have him see me, that it is going to be this giant reminder of a time in which i was considered That Girl, the one who Behaved That Way), and that was . . . fine. i even got a perfectly non-weird platonic new year's kiss. from, like, five beautiful musician boys.
oh. it was so entirely lovely.
and then i got home and the monkey had emailed me a new year's present: him and his piano, crooning me a song. what am i doing new year's, new year's eve? i feel that it is possible that every one since now i will be remembering being stuck under that table on stage and then the beatles and then hugging so many people.
also, it is now the year in which i am getting married. i could plotz.
