Trouble
Oh trouble set me free
I have seen your face
And it’s too much too much for me
I'm in trouble. The funny part is it's from so many different sources that the trouble has started. It's amazing how a small leak can become a flood. I'm starting to feel a little bit of pressure. People like Michele, Meridita, DeRusha, and Worm tell me I'm funny and now the writing doesn't flow as well because I worry the next thing I write will drive the readers away.I'm not worthy of you, but I sure as hell appreciate all of you.
Trouble
Oh trouble can’t you see
You’re eating my heart away
And there’s nothing much left of me
I wrote about my sisters in a post not too long ago. Now, their both upset with me. It could be my terminology, it could just very well be the fact that I wrote about them. So, one sister is in Costa Rica for the holidays and not sure she wants to talk to me, and the other sister is at her home on the East Coast feeling as though I believe she's unable to be social.What both my sisters need to realize is that I was painting them to be human. No one can be perfect. Beyond that, if they had look deeper, they would have seen that I was explaining how much better than me they are.My parents have also started discovering what I've written about them. I've tried to keep everything positive. Yet now I have a family that is unhappy with me. The hardest part about being in a family is trying to get everyone to talk to each other. They may be angry with me, but my sisters are now talking to each other.
I’ve drunk your wine
You have made your world mine
So won’t you be fair
So won’t you be fair
I don’t want no more of you
So won’t you be kind to me
Just let me go whereI’ll have to go there
I was given my schedule of classes for the next semester. Three periods of Freshman English (Regular, not Pre-IB). Why is this trouble, you ask? Well, I managed to sneak a peek at the roster for each class, and I will be working mostly with the kids who I failed this past summer. Now, if they failed the BST class, how much am I going to have to change my English course? I have a feeling I have ALOT of lesson plan writing to do. A few of the students ran into me and told me they would, "make my life miserable," because of last summer. Oh joy. I better stock up on referral slips....
Trouble
Oh trouble move away
I have seen your face
And it’s too much for me today
Trouble
Oh trouble can’t you see
You have made me a wreck
Now won’t you leave me in my misery
I went to my wife's Holiday party last night. She warned me that I needed to, "keep your mouth shut." Unfortunately, I would be unable to comply.
Her company took over a section on the club level (Mrs. Leab thought it was to be a suite, but apparently they just bought out a section instead). From the moment my wife snuck me in (we have seats on the upper level, so I was there already), I knew I was in trouble.
You see, the company chartered a bus for the employees and stocked that bus with a great deal of booze. Thus managers and underlings alike were sauced to high heaven.
So how did the night go wrong for me? Well, right from the beginning I knew I was in trouble. One of my wife's co-workers grabbed my ass and made sure everyone knew she was grabbing it.
Then, a man who was leaving the company (and would turn out to be a higher up manager) used me as a therapist. I had never met him before and here I am learning all about why he was quitting, why he hated everyone, and why he even hated his wife. And I quote: "My fucking wife quit her job as an engineer and decided she wanted to teach. So she goes back to school and is now working for peanuts. You know how much of a pain in the ass it is that I have to make more money? All so she can be happy...."
Yeah, so then there was another guy who told me all about why he wanted to one day sleep with my wife. I don't know if he didn't get that I was her husband, but it took alot not break his nose (and it would have been SO easy).
My wife was also upset because I talked to her boss and made him uneasy. I am the only person who his wife has ever talked to at a company function. Because I know her name and ask about her (you have to understand, he's afraid of people), he gets uncomfortable. He said something to her, and she came right to me.
And the topper? At the end of night, I get home and my wife tells me, "I'm so mad at you! I just can't talk to you right now." Why? Because one gal grabbed my ass (unsolicited) and several other people asked me to tell jokes and talked to me about their problems. It's my fault for not just saying, "Sorry, can't help you."
I’ve seen your eyes
And I can see death’s disguise
Hangin’ on me
Hangin’ on me
I’m beat, I’m torn
Shattered and tossed and worn
Too shocking to see
Too shocking to see
People I used to go to school with are starting to track me down. It's kinda creepy and kind of annoying. Across the United States, there are only 75 listings for the last name Leab. Eventually, you can come across the right one. I wasn't lucky enough to have name like Smith, Jones, or Andrews. Lots and lots of people with those names.
It is because of this ease of being able to find me that I was able to discover who "Anonymous" is. He (and I was right, it is a man) is none other than "Isaiah", the man with whom my Ex cheated on me (he was also her ex). We never liked each other, and he came across my blog. He recognized the name and that was it.
Trouble
Oh trouble move from me
I have paid my debt
Now won’t you leave me in my misery
Trouble
Oh trouble please be kind
I don’t want no fight
And I haven’t got a lot of time
-Trouble by Cat Stevens
Thankfully it's Winter Break, so I can (try to) relax for a little while.
Namaste.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Slander a la Leab (12/15/05)
Snow, snow, snow. If you live here, you have to deal with it (but you don't have to love it, people).
Both my sisters are now slightly wary of what I might say. Revenge is a dish best served online. Just kidding. Relax, it's not like you'll be judged solely on what I say.
Before we start, I have to share with you the phone call I received from my wife:
"Honey, the company Holiday gathering is at the game tonight, so I'll be in a suite, and we'll get you in to join us."
"Oh," I reply, "That should be fun."
"Yeah. So don't talk to anyone."
"Huh?"
"You either intimidate or anger alot of the people I work with, so try not to talk. No jokes, no opinions. There will be bosses there, so keep your mouth shut."
Ah love. It's a burning thing.
I guess she's got a point.
So, let's get to the SLANDERAMA!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Preparations for 'The Prairie Throwdown' Complete:
Don King is a happy man tonight. With the upcoming "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown" (a nickname for the fight that Mr. King stole from yours truly. I want my cut, King!) set for this Saturday night, Minnesotans are anxiously awaiting to see who will win.
Why is Mr. King so happy? Well, all the seats at the Target Center are sold out, the pay-per-view, which is priced at a hefty $59.99 has been bought by several people worldwide, and the "Prairie Throwdown" T-Shirts are selling better than this season's must have holiday item: the X-Box 360.
"Only in America could a man like me make millions on a fight between two literary types. These men are not physical specimens. No! They are the cream of the
mental crop."
Both men are not really known for their fighting prowess and had to train.
Keillor, a literary juggernaut, was described at the weigh-in as, "not hitting harder than a mewing kitten."
Not wanting to suffer an embarassing loss, Keillor began training with local sports news anchor Eric Perkins. Perk, as the "Battler's" team has taken to calling him, started by having Keillor jog. However, this became a problem when Keillor kept slipping on the icy paths around Lake Calhoun. One spy told the I.T. Team:
"It was embarrassing. Most children can run around those icy paths without falling down. Hell, my toddler can do it. Are you telling me a two-year-old is in better shape than Mr. Keillor?"
This setback, however, did not affect "The Lake Woebegon Battler's" boxing training.
"He was at Uppercut Gym everyday," Perk told the I.T. Team. "Every freaking morning at 5 am, the phone would ring. I'd pick up and G.K. would be all 'Let's go hit the bag' in his dulced tones. The man is an animal."
While Keillor was in the gym, his opponent, Rex Sorgatz, was taking a different approach. "Basically, Rex has been hanging out drinking at Stasiu's," manager Margaret Andrews told us.
"I mean he trains, but nothing like what we're hearing out of the Keillor camp."
So how is "The Titanium Typist" getting ready for this fight?
"I watch alot of Buffy (the Vampire Slayer). I mean with all of her moves and stuff, she's shown me a great deal about how to fight."
But will the cult show be enough for Mr. Sorgatz to defeat Mr. Keillor?
Perkins is sure he knows the answer:
"Oh hell no! Look, LWB's been at it everyday. This Rex guy has been doing....What? Tae-bo or something. He's going to be creamed!
Andrews has a much different outlook on it.
"Rex is a tough S.O.B. Growing up in Edina, he had to really fight to stay alive in his neighborhood. Besides, Keillor sits at a desk all day. He doesn't exercise. Rex at least bikes to work."
Sources say that Keillor may in fact be nervous about the outcome of this fight. He's already talking about a possible rematch that would be done in two stages: 1. Another fight. 2. A literary debate.
Mr. Sorgatz's group had no comment on the possible rematch.
The city of Minneapolis is preparing for a ton of press and boxing enthusiasts to descend on the city. The Graves 601 Hotel reports it is completely booked.
"We're full, and we're ready," Dan Girard, the hotel's manager, explained. "It's about 70/30 Keillor fans. We're trying to separate by floors to ensure the peace."
As first reported here, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem. Mills Lane, best known for his work on Celebrity Deathmatch, has been lured out of retirement for one last fight as a referee. The commentary for the fight will be done by Jim Lampley, Max Kellerman, and special guest Roy Jones, Jr.
Those of you unable to attend will be able to watch the fight at The Local. There will be a cover charge.
Bets can made up to one hour before the 9 PM fight on Saturday.
The Ironic Teachings Team is curious to know who you fans think will win. So, let us know the following: Who's the winner, what round, and how (be it KO, TKO, etc.).
"This should be a great fight," Don King yelled at his press conference yesterday. "Only in America could this fight occur. We want to see which man is the better one, but we want a clean fight. A fight worth our money."
Everyone wants to see that, Mr. King. Everyone wants to see that.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-It looks like local gossip columnist CJ will be in "The Titanium Typist's" corner on Saturday night. The gossip maven has no love for Garrison Keillor or his unicultural show.
"Has there EVER been a non-white person in Lake Wobegon? I don't think so. Then again, I never listen to that show anyway."
Recently on Fox 9 Morning News, CJ was seen sporting the "A Prairie Ho Companion" T-shirt, and when asked told the morning crew she would be in Sorgatz's corner.
"I love that guy, and he's getting my support."
No one is quite sure if Mr. Sorgatz is happy about having the columnist backing him.
"If Muammar Khadafi says he wants to back you, you have mixed feelings. This is along those lines."
-"Dapper" Don Shelby is unhappy and everyone at WCCO knows it. It seems Mr. Shelby was supposed to have ringside seats to the "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown", but his tickets were revoked when he started making outrageous demands. According to one Target Center employee, the "Don" asked for the following:
*He would be seated between Sorgatz's manager Margaret Andrews and local boy made good Josh Hartnett's girlfriend Scarlett Johansson.
*He would be given $200 in free concessions
*A bottle of Roederer Cristal champagne chilled and served to him at ringside, along with two other glasses for the ladies.
*Face time. (This was later discovered to mean he wanted to be shown on the telecast as well as on the overhead board.)
With no seats ringside, Mr. Shelby is now cohosting a party with Diddy in one of the suites. No word on the guest list yet.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's it for this week. Stayed tuned for next Thursday's entry which will have post-fight coverage. And get those bets in, ladies and gentlemen.
Both my sisters are now slightly wary of what I might say. Revenge is a dish best served online. Just kidding. Relax, it's not like you'll be judged solely on what I say.
Before we start, I have to share with you the phone call I received from my wife:
"Honey, the company Holiday gathering is at the game tonight, so I'll be in a suite, and we'll get you in to join us."
"Oh," I reply, "That should be fun."
"Yeah. So don't talk to anyone."
"Huh?"
"You either intimidate or anger alot of the people I work with, so try not to talk. No jokes, no opinions. There will be bosses there, so keep your mouth shut."
Ah love. It's a burning thing.
I guess she's got a point.
So, let's get to the SLANDERAMA!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Preparations for 'The Prairie Throwdown' Complete:
Don King is a happy man tonight. With the upcoming "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown" (a nickname for the fight that Mr. King stole from yours truly. I want my cut, King!) set for this Saturday night, Minnesotans are anxiously awaiting to see who will win.Why is Mr. King so happy? Well, all the seats at the Target Center are sold out, the pay-per-view, which is priced at a hefty $59.99 has been bought by several people worldwide, and the "Prairie Throwdown" T-Shirts are selling better than this season's must have holiday item: the X-Box 360.
"Only in America could a man like me make millions on a fight between two literary types. These men are not physical specimens. No! They are the cream of the
mental crop."Both men are not really known for their fighting prowess and had to train.
Keillor, a literary juggernaut, was described at the weigh-in as, "not hitting harder than a mewing kitten."
Not wanting to suffer an embarassing loss, Keillor began training with local sports news anchor Eric Perkins. Perk, as the "Battler's" team has taken to calling him, started by having Keillor jog. However, this became a problem when Keillor kept slipping on the icy paths around Lake Calhoun. One spy told the I.T. Team:
"It was embarrassing. Most children can run around those icy paths without falling down. Hell, my toddler can do it. Are you telling me a two-year-old is in better shape than Mr. Keillor?"
This setback, however, did not affect "The Lake Woebegon Battler's" boxing training.
"He was at Uppercut Gym everyday," Perk told the I.T. Team. "Every freaking morning at 5 am, the phone would ring. I'd pick up and G.K. would be all 'Let's go hit the bag' in his dulced tones. The man is an animal."While Keillor was in the gym, his opponent, Rex Sorgatz, was taking a different approach. "Basically, Rex has been hanging out drinking at Stasiu's," manager Margaret Andrews told us.
"I mean he trains, but nothing like what we're hearing out of the Keillor camp."
So how is "The Titanium Typist" getting ready for this fight?
"I watch alot of Buffy (the Vampire Slayer). I mean with all of her moves and stuff, she's shown me a great deal about how to fight."
But will the cult show be enough for Mr. Sorgatz to defeat Mr. Keillor?
Perkins is sure he knows the answer:
"Oh hell no! Look, LWB's been at it everyday. This Rex guy has been doing....What? Tae-bo or something. He's going to be creamed!
Andrews has a much different outlook on it.
"Rex is a tough S.O.B. Growing up in Edina, he had to really fight to stay alive in his neighborhood. Besides, Keillor sits at a desk all day. He doesn't exercise. Rex at least bikes to work."
Sources say that Keillor may in fact be nervous about the outcome of this fight. He's already talking about a possible rematch that would be done in two stages: 1. Another fight. 2. A literary debate.
Mr. Sorgatz's group had no comment on the possible rematch.
The city of Minneapolis is preparing for a ton of press and boxing enthusiasts to descend on the city. The Graves 601 Hotel reports it is completely booked.
"We're full, and we're ready," Dan Girard, the hotel's manager, explained. "It's about 70/30 Keillor fans. We're trying to separate by floors to ensure the peace."
As first reported here, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem. Mills Lane, best known for his work on Celebrity Deathmatch, has been lured out of retirement for one last fight as a referee. The commentary for the fight will be done by Jim Lampley, Max Kellerman, and special guest Roy Jones, Jr.
Those of you unable to attend will be able to watch the fight at The Local. There will be a cover charge.
Bets can made up to one hour before the 9 PM fight on Saturday.
The Ironic Teachings Team is curious to know who you fans think will win. So, let us know the following: Who's the winner, what round, and how (be it KO, TKO, etc.).
"This should be a great fight," Don King yelled at his press conference yesterday. "Only in America could this fight occur. We want to see which man is the better one, but we want a clean fight. A fight worth our money."
Everyone wants to see that, Mr. King. Everyone wants to see that.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-It looks like local gossip columnist CJ will be in "The Titanium Typist's" corner on Saturday night. The gossip maven has no love for Garrison Keillor or his unicultural show.
"Has there EVER been a non-white person in Lake Wobegon? I don't think so. Then again, I never listen to that show anyway."
Recently on Fox 9 Morning News, CJ was seen sporting the "A Prairie Ho Companion" T-shirt, and when asked told the morning crew she would be in Sorgatz's corner.
"I love that guy, and he's getting my support."
No one is quite sure if Mr. Sorgatz is happy about having the columnist backing him.
"If Muammar Khadafi says he wants to back you, you have mixed feelings. This is along those lines."
-"Dapper" Don Shelby is unhappy and everyone at WCCO knows it. It seems Mr. Shelby was supposed to have ringside seats to the "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown", but his tickets were revoked when he started making outrageous demands. According to one Target Center employee, the "Don" asked for the following:
*He would be seated between Sorgatz's manager Margaret Andrews and local boy made good Josh Hartnett's girlfriend Scarlett Johansson.
*He would be given $200 in free concessions
*A bottle of Roederer Cristal champagne chilled and served to him at ringside, along with two other glasses for the ladies.
*Face time. (This was later discovered to mean he wanted to be shown on the telecast as well as on the overhead board.)
With no seats ringside, Mr. Shelby is now cohosting a party with Diddy in one of the suites. No word on the guest list yet.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's it for this week. Stayed tuned for next Thursday's entry which will have post-fight coverage. And get those bets in, ladies and gentlemen.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Story Time with Uncle Leab: Foot in Mouth Disease
When I was in college (many moons ago), I created problems for the Performing Arts Department.
I have this disease. Everyonce in a while, my foot just flies up into mouth. This is compounded by a form of neurological disease I have where I am incapable of thinking before I speak AND cannot hold my tongue. It's horrible. Happens alot.
Now, when I started in college, I was a Psychology major with dreams of having my own practice. Ten minutes into my first class, that all changed. I was the only student with any technical theatre in my background. In high school, I had been an actor, but also a stage manager, lighting guy, running crew, and more. So, when the teacher asked, "Anyone have any stage managing experience?", mine was the only hand in the air.
After being assigned to the show, I immediately learned two things:
1. I would be the first and only freshman in the history of the University's Performing Arts Department to stage manage the first show of the year.
2. I would not be in Psychology for long. I switched to Theatre and stayed there for my degree. (The actual degree is: Design/Technical Theatre with emphasis in Lighting. I would minor in Psychology and German Language and Literature. How? 21 credits per semester freshman year along with working shows and having a girlfriend...who would later break my heart.)
The show was The Importance of Being Earnest, and with a new director, a freshman stage manager, and an opening night only four weeks away, we had our work cut out for us. The show went well, but Seana (the director) and I would never speak again once the show was done. We drove each other nuts.
The highlight of my first year in the department came during a play written by the playwright-in-residence. The play was about a teenage girl in Ireland getting pregnant. Everyone who worked on the show, except for the playwright, had absolutely no clue what the hell the play was about. I remember one design meeting where the playwright (we'll call her Patti) asked for the set to be all fabric "to feel like a womb." When the show was finally over, Patti explained what the play was supposed to be about:
"There tried to outlaw divorce in 1980s in Ireland. That's really what this play is about."
You see, no one in the play marries. The young girl gives birth and keeps the baby sans husband. How does that speak to divorce? Anyone....Anyone....?
During this show, the director and I almost came to blows. At this point, I had a crew with which I was constantly working. There was Stephanie, my Assistant Stage Manager. She was a former model, a fellow freshman, and would come to me for advice on men (which at times was kinda awkward). The cosutme designer was the same gal I had worked with on Earnest. The rest of the running crew was made up of people I was in a class with. These people were close to me, and I was protective of them.
Well, one rehearsal, things were going very badly. The actors didn't know their lines or blocking (where they had to move to for non theatre people), the playwright was adjusting lines as the rehearsal went on (we wrote everything in pencil, because she would put in and then take out a line), and my crew was having a hard time with the fabric set.
So, we're running the "sex" scene between Kate (the protagonist) and the man who gets her pregnant, and my crew gets confused on where to put a block. The director, already upset with
how much pressure he's under (the department is touting this show as a "world-premiere play written by a Julliard graduate), explodes. He starts tearing into the crew as if every little mistake was their fault.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you get your marks right?"
Remember, dear reader, this is a teacher. Sure, he's a director, but he's supposed to be a teacher first. He then sharpens his tongue for the strongest verbal lashing on Stephanie.
"In all my years as a director, I have never seen someone so pathetically underqualified for their job. Why the HELL DO YOU EVEN BOTHER! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At his point, Stephanie slowly breaks down into tears. She manages to get out into the hallway before the real sobbing begins.
Again, I'm fiercely protective of my crew. They are like my family. I protect them, and they do good work for me.
It's at this point, that I first realized I had that disease. Without thinking, the affliction took over. "What are you thinking? That's my ASM! I need her to run the backstage."
With all the fury of a thousand suns, the director turned his vision on me.
"What did you say?"
Again, my brain was saying, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT," but the affliction took over:
"Look, you need to go out and get her. Apologize so she calms down. I'm sorry if things aren't going very well, but you can't take it out on us."
This was not the right thing to say. He got in face so close that his nose was occasionally touching mine, and he was spitting mad.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you little pissant? You can't even call a cue correctly. The reason why we're stuck on this scene is you can't get Evan (the light board operator) the correct timing. I've got to worry about everything. You only have the crew to worry about. I have been doing this for 20 years. 20 YEARS! You've been here for what, three months?"
Again, I should have shut up, but the damn affliction kicked in at the wrong time.
"Don't take your frustrations out on us. I'm sorry if you don't get this play. None of us do! But don't make a girl cry and tell her 'not to bother' doing theatre when she's doing the best she can. That's bullshit."
Have you ever seen someone get so mad his or her face goes slightly dead trying to comprehend how not to kill you? Then the eyes on his or her face kind of bulge out as if the rage inside is attempting to pour out through the eye sockets? The director had this look.
He called for a five minute break, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to his office.
I would be screamed at for the next seven minutes. I remember it being seven, because I stopped listening and watched his clock. Later, I would console Stephanie.
The show was a nightmare. We managed to get the cues down, but because of all of the fabric that was put up, the booth (which meant myself, the light board operator, and the sound engineer) could not see the show. No one understood the playwright's meaning. On opening night, she held an post-show discussion to talk about what the audience had seen. No one (and I mean NO ONE) got that it was about divorce. She then told the audience (and I quote), "You just don't get it, because you're not Irish...or not very bright."
At the post mortem (when the show ends, the actors, crew, designers, and director meet to discuss what worked and what didn't), I managed to let the disease take over and put my foot in my mouth. The designers and crew had promised to back me up with my topic. I was going to discuss the relationship between the director and everyone who wasn't an actor. I stand up, say my piece about feeling like a second class citizen...and no one backs me up.
It went downhill from there.
The big show (meaning it was on the professional mainstage) the following year was Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I wanted that show. However, it was directed by the same guy who I had just stepped up against in the post mortem.
The department, fearing the two of us would have another war and destroy the show, gave the stage manager position to a new girl who had never done it before and moved me to work with dancers. The girl would end up angering every single member of the cast, crew, and even the director (who would later tell me, "he made a mistake" and would use me for the final production of my senior year). I went on to work with dancers which was a very interesting experience (and something I will talk about another time. Dancers...always makes me smile and cringe at the same time).
The problem was the director had been in the program longer and was better liked than me. I now had a reputation of being difficult to work with (this would go away, but not until my senior year). Several directors/teachers passed on working with me. I was lucky there were student productions, and that a few teachers didn't listen to the hype about me.
So what's the moral, girls and boys?
Well, you could say it's learn to pick your battles, but you all know that.
You could say it's you can't trust anyone, but that's obvious to almost everyone.
No, the moral here is: think before you speak. That's right. Make sure you think through what it is you're going to say very carefully before you say it. You may end up blackballing yourself out of jobs or potential friends.
I have this disease. Everyonce in a while, my foot just flies up into mouth. This is compounded by a form of neurological disease I have where I am incapable of thinking before I speak AND cannot hold my tongue. It's horrible. Happens alot.
Now, when I started in college, I was a Psychology major with dreams of having my own practice. Ten minutes into my first class, that all changed. I was the only student with any technical theatre in my background. In high school, I had been an actor, but also a stage manager, lighting guy, running crew, and more. So, when the teacher asked, "Anyone have any stage managing experience?", mine was the only hand in the air.
After being assigned to the show, I immediately learned two things:
1. I would be the first and only freshman in the history of the University's Performing Arts Department to stage manage the first show of the year.
2. I would not be in Psychology for long. I switched to Theatre and stayed there for my degree. (The actual degree is: Design/Technical Theatre with emphasis in Lighting. I would minor in Psychology and German Language and Literature. How? 21 credits per semester freshman year along with working shows and having a girlfriend...who would later break my heart.)
The show was The Importance of Being Earnest, and with a new director, a freshman stage manager, and an opening night only four weeks away, we had our work cut out for us. The show went well, but Seana (the director) and I would never speak again once the show was done. We drove each other nuts.
The highlight of my first year in the department came during a play written by the playwright-in-residence. The play was about a teenage girl in Ireland getting pregnant. Everyone who worked on the show, except for the playwright, had absolutely no clue what the hell the play was about. I remember one design meeting where the playwright (we'll call her Patti) asked for the set to be all fabric "to feel like a womb." When the show was finally over, Patti explained what the play was supposed to be about:
"There tried to outlaw divorce in 1980s in Ireland. That's really what this play is about."
You see, no one in the play marries. The young girl gives birth and keeps the baby sans husband. How does that speak to divorce? Anyone....Anyone....?
During this show, the director and I almost came to blows. At this point, I had a crew with which I was constantly working. There was Stephanie, my Assistant Stage Manager. She was a former model, a fellow freshman, and would come to me for advice on men (which at times was kinda awkward). The cosutme designer was the same gal I had worked with on Earnest. The rest of the running crew was made up of people I was in a class with. These people were close to me, and I was protective of them.
Well, one rehearsal, things were going very badly. The actors didn't know their lines or blocking (where they had to move to for non theatre people), the playwright was adjusting lines as the rehearsal went on (we wrote everything in pencil, because she would put in and then take out a line), and my crew was having a hard time with the fabric set.
So, we're running the "sex" scene between Kate (the protagonist) and the man who gets her pregnant, and my crew gets confused on where to put a block. The director, already upset with
how much pressure he's under (the department is touting this show as a "world-premiere play written by a Julliard graduate), explodes. He starts tearing into the crew as if every little mistake was their fault."What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you get your marks right?"
Remember, dear reader, this is a teacher. Sure, he's a director, but he's supposed to be a teacher first. He then sharpens his tongue for the strongest verbal lashing on Stephanie.
"In all my years as a director, I have never seen someone so pathetically underqualified for their job. Why the HELL DO YOU EVEN BOTHER! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At his point, Stephanie slowly breaks down into tears. She manages to get out into the hallway before the real sobbing begins.
Again, I'm fiercely protective of my crew. They are like my family. I protect them, and they do good work for me.
It's at this point, that I first realized I had that disease. Without thinking, the affliction took over. "What are you thinking? That's my ASM! I need her to run the backstage."
With all the fury of a thousand suns, the director turned his vision on me.
"What did you say?"
Again, my brain was saying, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT," but the affliction took over:
"Look, you need to go out and get her. Apologize so she calms down. I'm sorry if things aren't going very well, but you can't take it out on us."
This was not the right thing to say. He got in face so close that his nose was occasionally touching mine, and he was spitting mad.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you little pissant? You can't even call a cue correctly. The reason why we're stuck on this scene is you can't get Evan (the light board operator) the correct timing. I've got to worry about everything. You only have the crew to worry about. I have been doing this for 20 years. 20 YEARS! You've been here for what, three months?"
Again, I should have shut up, but the damn affliction kicked in at the wrong time.
"Don't take your frustrations out on us. I'm sorry if you don't get this play. None of us do! But don't make a girl cry and tell her 'not to bother' doing theatre when she's doing the best she can. That's bullshit."
Have you ever seen someone get so mad his or her face goes slightly dead trying to comprehend how not to kill you? Then the eyes on his or her face kind of bulge out as if the rage inside is attempting to pour out through the eye sockets? The director had this look.He called for a five minute break, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to his office.
I would be screamed at for the next seven minutes. I remember it being seven, because I stopped listening and watched his clock. Later, I would console Stephanie.
The show was a nightmare. We managed to get the cues down, but because of all of the fabric that was put up, the booth (which meant myself, the light board operator, and the sound engineer) could not see the show. No one understood the playwright's meaning. On opening night, she held an post-show discussion to talk about what the audience had seen. No one (and I mean NO ONE) got that it was about divorce. She then told the audience (and I quote), "You just don't get it, because you're not Irish...or not very bright."
At the post mortem (when the show ends, the actors, crew, designers, and director meet to discuss what worked and what didn't), I managed to let the disease take over and put my foot in my mouth. The designers and crew had promised to back me up with my topic. I was going to discuss the relationship between the director and everyone who wasn't an actor. I stand up, say my piece about feeling like a second class citizen...and no one backs me up.
It went downhill from there.
The big show (meaning it was on the professional mainstage) the following year was Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I wanted that show. However, it was directed by the same guy who I had just stepped up against in the post mortem.
The department, fearing the two of us would have another war and destroy the show, gave the stage manager position to a new girl who had never done it before and moved me to work with dancers. The girl would end up angering every single member of the cast, crew, and even the director (who would later tell me, "he made a mistake" and would use me for the final production of my senior year). I went on to work with dancers which was a very interesting experience (and something I will talk about another time. Dancers...always makes me smile and cringe at the same time).
The problem was the director had been in the program longer and was better liked than me. I now had a reputation of being difficult to work with (this would go away, but not until my senior year). Several directors/teachers passed on working with me. I was lucky there were student productions, and that a few teachers didn't listen to the hype about me.
So what's the moral, girls and boys?
Well, you could say it's learn to pick your battles, but you all know that.
You could say it's you can't trust anyone, but that's obvious to almost everyone.
No, the moral here is: think before you speak. That's right. Make sure you think through what it is you're going to say very carefully before you say it. You may end up blackballing yourself out of jobs or potential friends.
Bought and Sold like a Mule
I added a new link over in the "Students" section.
Blog Shares is a fictional Wall Street where blogs can be traded like stocks.
I have had a $10,000 gain from November to December. Apparently I'm a tech stock...hooray!
Still, it's a very odd idea. I have to thank Rex and Michele, however.
You see by adding me to their links, they increased my value which in turn increased theirs.
At last check MNSpeak was at around $32,000 and Voix was around $20,000.
It's an odd thing, but the more you read it, the more engrossing it is.
Again, it's just a game started up by a few guys, but more than likely if you have a blog, it's on there.
Check it out.
I also added Sopheava as a new student due to the fact, like Meridita, I really like her photography and the stories she shares.
My class is getting full. I'm going to need more desks...that is unless Rex confirms that he received an email about me.
Blog Shares is a fictional Wall Street where blogs can be traded like stocks.
I have had a $10,000 gain from November to December. Apparently I'm a tech stock...hooray!
Still, it's a very odd idea. I have to thank Rex and Michele, however.
You see by adding me to their links, they increased my value which in turn increased theirs.
At last check MNSpeak was at around $32,000 and Voix was around $20,000.
It's an odd thing, but the more you read it, the more engrossing it is.
Again, it's just a game started up by a few guys, but more than likely if you have a blog, it's on there.
Check it out.
I also added Sopheava as a new student due to the fact, like Meridita, I really like her photography and the stories she shares.
My class is getting full. I'm going to need more desks...that is unless Rex confirms that he received an email about me.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Ramblings for the Evening (12/13/05)
Still mulling.
So without further ado: I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sibling Rivalry:
They will deny this vehemently, but I assure you, dear reader, I'm right, and they are wrong.
I have two older sisters. One is eight years older, the other is three. One could not possibly imagine how different the two of them are. It's quite...fascinating.
I love both my sisters very much. I believe that for all we disagree about, for all we argue about, if trouble arose, we could count on each other.
My oldest sister, we'll just call her "A", is one of the smartest people I know. She has a keen mind with a killer ability to remember facts, and she almost NEVER forgets anything. That's both a blessing and a curse. If you need it, her memory is your best friend. If you argue with her, she never forgets what you said.
"A" is also quite funny with a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, there are times when she doesn't understand you're only joking, but that's ok. You can't always have everything, right?
I'm also quite proud of the fact my sister has kept my neice alive to almost two years old. When Maddie was born, "A" was a nervous wreck. There was this unfounded belief she would kill the baby rather quickly. This is the only problem with my sister "A":
She has no confidence in herself. None. A person with a mean streak could snap her easily by ripping her apart not physically, but attacking her looks, her demeanor, etc. It wouldn't matter if it weren't true. For her, I wish she would get two things:
1. Start liking yourself, and others will follow.
2. You're a good mother. Believe it.
On the flip side, there's my other sister. We'll call her "C".
She was my best friend when we were younger, but we really grew apart. It was only in the last few years we started being friends again. Whereas my oldest sister is the brilliant one, this sister is the free spirit with better social skills then most party planners. The path of life for most people is road with just a few curves and the occasional obstacle. Not for "C". No, for her the path of life is winding like a mountain road with large trees for obstacles and many, many detours.
At her lowest moment, she had to watch her boyfriend die after a jet ski accident. You ever see someone die? It's not fun. No, it really affects your mind.
That being said, my sister "C" is a social dynamo. It's kind of scary how many people she knows, and how many people know her.
Is her social standing enough? No. Even though she has a new boyfriend, I truly believe that deep down "C" is unhappy. The world has changed alot around her, and, though she'll deny it, she has a bit of a Peter Pan Complex.
I love both my sisters, but it's hard, because they don't really talk to each other. The way we're spread out across the country is a perfect example:
"C" is in Seattle (the West), I'm here in MN, and "A" is in Connecticut (the East).
Not getting it?
I'm in the middle. I seem to have no problem contacting them, but they can't seem to connect with each other.
On a recent trip, they had a hard time even being in the same room.
It's tough. I hate middlemen...yet I am one.
Don't get me wrong, I love both my sisters. I just wish they talked to each other as much as I talk to each of them.
So what's my point besides the fact that I want my sisters to foster love? Well, one of them is brilliant, the other is a social savant. What does that leave me?
I listen to each of them complain about what's wrong, be it loneliness, jealousy, hard times at work or school, but the best is when they subtlely tell me the other one is so lucky.
"She's so great with people and has so many friends."
"She could do anything if she wanted."
And on and on it goes.
Yet, one of them is smarter than me (and a better writer, that bitch), and the other is better with people (and has more friends, that bitch).
What am I? I'm the average kid. It kinda sucks.
I don't want pity from them or you, dear reader. I'm just pointing out a fact. One sister is smarter, one sister is better socially.
I'm just the boy. No more, no less.
And finally (it's a short night)....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The War on the War on Christmas:
I'm starting a new war.
What with the war on terror, drugs, poverty, and now Christmas, I have decided that the average citizen (um, that's me, doi!) needs a war.
So, I am starting a war on the War on Christmas. This has to be the dumbest thing that has ever wasted my time and yours.
Everyone has their own opinion on this topic, but I hate politicians and pundits (this includes myself. If I could hit the man in the mirror, I would). I'm going to try and present both sides and explain to you, dear reader, why this is the dumbest argument possibly ever.
What Christians are arguing:
The ACLU and certain other groups are working overly hard to "take the Christ out of Christmas." Instead of saying "Merry Christmas," people are forced to say, "Happy Holidays!" or "Seasons Greetings!"
In a way, it can be argued that it's a form of religious persecution. No Christ for you!
The opponents of "Christmas" want all aspects of it removed. This includes trees, crosses, wreaths, and even Santa Claus. That's right, the Fat Man is under fire too. Even the colors red and green have been asked to be removed from government centers and schools around this time of year. Heck, even Wal-Mart and Target are being asked to remove the C-word (Christmas, not the fun word) from their stores.
Bottom line: The time of Christ's birth is being taken away from those who want celebrate it. On the flip side:
What (we'll call them) Secularists are arguing:
There are other holidays besides Christmas. Ever hear of Chanukkah? Kwanzaa?
Weeks of Christmas music over and over again? Annnnnd, where's the other music? There are Chanukkah songs you know.
And what about specials on TV? There's a bunch of Christmas, but no The Night Grandpa Saved Kwanzaa. What's up with that?
What about commericals? "You only have 25 days until Christmas! Why aren't you out shopping RIGHT NOW?!!!!!"
Christmas is being forced on everyone and other holidays are suffering or underrepresented.
Bottom line: Why can't everyone's religious beliefs be given equal time.
My Take on the Whole Thing:
Everyone on both sides: pay attention to this. Ready?
Shut up!
I'll start with the Secularists. Banning the colors red and green? That's insane. That's going too far. If you ban every color that deals with the holiday then you have to ban every color of the rainbow.
And the term "Merry Christmas" is not offensive. It's just a greeting.
If someone wants to believe that their savior was born at this time, let them have their time. You want to celebrate your beliefs at this time? Let them celebrate theirs.
That being said....
Christians: What the hell is wrong witn you?
War on Christmas? The holiday is everywhere! There are tons of Christmas songs on the radio all the time. (Side note: the guy in Alabama suing to have the song "Happy Holidays" removed from the radio because it's "offensive": You're an idiot.)
There are wreaths and garlands and trees everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I haven't seen alot of Chanukkah decorations anywhere, have you?
Yes, you are a majority in the country. Congratulations. That doesn't mean you ignore everyone else. Most stores have TONS of Christmas decorations. Yet, Chanukkah and Kwanzaa are usually given only a little bit.
And having a cow because of "Happy Holidays" on the White House Christmas card? What's wrong with you?
The bottom line is balance. If a Christmas tree is put up in a school, then everyone else has to be represented and that creates clutter. You need Chanukkah decorations, Kwanzaa decorations, and other religious decorations for that time of the year. You wan t to deal with all that?
As for Christ. It's your belief. That's fine, but remember two things:
1. The Puritans, the original settlers that some of you bring up when discussing the holidays, were AGAINST Christmas.
2. Some people believe Christ was born in the summer and the whole "birth" thing was moved to cover a pagan holiday.
Now, this is for both of you (and you media people as well). Stop this. It's a stupid argument. There are children starving in an unheated building just wishing for someone to help them. No, you instead choose to focus on how a tree has been renamed from Christmas to Holiday tree.
Secularists: You're a minority, but you do deserve representation
Christians: Stop talking about "Christmas being under seige." In 1959, it was argued that Communists were trying to drive the Christ out of Christmas. Well, almost 50 years later, I guess they're still trying, right?
So cut the crap. Go to temple, or church, or whatever and hope or pray that this year, Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukkah is event free (no tsunamis or natural disasters) and that the people who really need help get it.
So here's how the war on the war on Christmas works. I tell you all to shut up and help people, and you have a Scrooge moment where you realize "Wow, this is absolutely pointless to argue about," and you go out and help the less fortunate. You stop commercializing the holiday time, and you act, shock of shocks, like a human being.
Stop arguing (and commercializing, you bastards) and help those who need it. Bill O'Reilly, John Gibson, The New York Times, Jerry Falwell, The ACLU, and anyone involved in this argument: shut up. Go out and help someone instead. Help them to be warm, eat, and survive.
That's the true spirit of Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Chanukkah: to help those in need.
Don't argue, just do it, and do it now.
Otherwise I will find a way to raise an army, and we will bring this war to you. And, using humanity as a base, we'll win. Why? Because God prefers humanity to all that other stuff. Trees? Decorations? "That's not the cup of a carpenter."
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy who calls it "The most humanizing time of the year." I could be wrong.
Namaste.
So without further ado: I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sibling Rivalry:
They will deny this vehemently, but I assure you, dear reader, I'm right, and they are wrong.
I have two older sisters. One is eight years older, the other is three. One could not possibly imagine how different the two of them are. It's quite...fascinating.
I love both my sisters very much. I believe that for all we disagree about, for all we argue about, if trouble arose, we could count on each other.
My oldest sister, we'll just call her "A", is one of the smartest people I know. She has a keen mind with a killer ability to remember facts, and she almost NEVER forgets anything. That's both a blessing and a curse. If you need it, her memory is your best friend. If you argue with her, she never forgets what you said.
"A" is also quite funny with a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, there are times when she doesn't understand you're only joking, but that's ok. You can't always have everything, right?
I'm also quite proud of the fact my sister has kept my neice alive to almost two years old. When Maddie was born, "A" was a nervous wreck. There was this unfounded belief she would kill the baby rather quickly. This is the only problem with my sister "A":
She has no confidence in herself. None. A person with a mean streak could snap her easily by ripping her apart not physically, but attacking her looks, her demeanor, etc. It wouldn't matter if it weren't true. For her, I wish she would get two things:
1. Start liking yourself, and others will follow.
2. You're a good mother. Believe it.
On the flip side, there's my other sister. We'll call her "C".
She was my best friend when we were younger, but we really grew apart. It was only in the last few years we started being friends again. Whereas my oldest sister is the brilliant one, this sister is the free spirit with better social skills then most party planners. The path of life for most people is road with just a few curves and the occasional obstacle. Not for "C". No, for her the path of life is winding like a mountain road with large trees for obstacles and many, many detours.
At her lowest moment, she had to watch her boyfriend die after a jet ski accident. You ever see someone die? It's not fun. No, it really affects your mind.
That being said, my sister "C" is a social dynamo. It's kind of scary how many people she knows, and how many people know her.
Is her social standing enough? No. Even though she has a new boyfriend, I truly believe that deep down "C" is unhappy. The world has changed alot around her, and, though she'll deny it, she has a bit of a Peter Pan Complex.
I love both my sisters, but it's hard, because they don't really talk to each other. The way we're spread out across the country is a perfect example:
"C" is in Seattle (the West), I'm here in MN, and "A" is in Connecticut (the East).
Not getting it?
I'm in the middle. I seem to have no problem contacting them, but they can't seem to connect with each other.
On a recent trip, they had a hard time even being in the same room.
It's tough. I hate middlemen...yet I am one.
Don't get me wrong, I love both my sisters. I just wish they talked to each other as much as I talk to each of them.
So what's my point besides the fact that I want my sisters to foster love? Well, one of them is brilliant, the other is a social savant. What does that leave me?
I listen to each of them complain about what's wrong, be it loneliness, jealousy, hard times at work or school, but the best is when they subtlely tell me the other one is so lucky.
"She's so great with people and has so many friends."
"She could do anything if she wanted."
And on and on it goes.
Yet, one of them is smarter than me (and a better writer, that bitch), and the other is better with people (and has more friends, that bitch).
What am I? I'm the average kid. It kinda sucks.
I don't want pity from them or you, dear reader. I'm just pointing out a fact. One sister is smarter, one sister is better socially.
I'm just the boy. No more, no less.
And finally (it's a short night)....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The War on the War on Christmas:
I'm starting a new war.
What with the war on terror, drugs, poverty, and now Christmas, I have decided that the average citizen (um, that's me, doi!) needs a war.
So, I am starting a war on the War on Christmas. This has to be the dumbest thing that has ever wasted my time and yours.
Everyone has their own opinion on this topic, but I hate politicians and pundits (this includes myself. If I could hit the man in the mirror, I would). I'm going to try and present both sides and explain to you, dear reader, why this is the dumbest argument possibly ever.
What Christians are arguing:
The ACLU and certain other groups are working overly hard to "take the Christ out of Christmas." Instead of saying "Merry Christmas," people are forced to say, "Happy Holidays!" or "Seasons Greetings!"
In a way, it can be argued that it's a form of religious persecution. No Christ for you!
The opponents of "Christmas" want all aspects of it removed. This includes trees, crosses, wreaths, and even Santa Claus. That's right, the Fat Man is under fire too. Even the colors red and green have been asked to be removed from government centers and schools around this time of year. Heck, even Wal-Mart and Target are being asked to remove the C-word (Christmas, not the fun word) from their stores.
Bottom line: The time of Christ's birth is being taken away from those who want celebrate it. On the flip side:
What (we'll call them) Secularists are arguing:
There are other holidays besides Christmas. Ever hear of Chanukkah? Kwanzaa?
Weeks of Christmas music over and over again? Annnnnd, where's the other music? There are Chanukkah songs you know.
And what about specials on TV? There's a bunch of Christmas, but no The Night Grandpa Saved Kwanzaa. What's up with that?
What about commericals? "You only have 25 days until Christmas! Why aren't you out shopping RIGHT NOW?!!!!!"
Christmas is being forced on everyone and other holidays are suffering or underrepresented.
Bottom line: Why can't everyone's religious beliefs be given equal time.
My Take on the Whole Thing:
Everyone on both sides: pay attention to this. Ready?
Shut up!
I'll start with the Secularists. Banning the colors red and green? That's insane. That's going too far. If you ban every color that deals with the holiday then you have to ban every color of the rainbow.
And the term "Merry Christmas" is not offensive. It's just a greeting.
If someone wants to believe that their savior was born at this time, let them have their time. You want to celebrate your beliefs at this time? Let them celebrate theirs.
That being said....
Christians: What the hell is wrong witn you?
War on Christmas? The holiday is everywhere! There are tons of Christmas songs on the radio all the time. (Side note: the guy in Alabama suing to have the song "Happy Holidays" removed from the radio because it's "offensive": You're an idiot.)
There are wreaths and garlands and trees everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I haven't seen alot of Chanukkah decorations anywhere, have you?
Yes, you are a majority in the country. Congratulations. That doesn't mean you ignore everyone else. Most stores have TONS of Christmas decorations. Yet, Chanukkah and Kwanzaa are usually given only a little bit.
And having a cow because of "Happy Holidays" on the White House Christmas card? What's wrong with you?
The bottom line is balance. If a Christmas tree is put up in a school, then everyone else has to be represented and that creates clutter. You need Chanukkah decorations, Kwanzaa decorations, and other religious decorations for that time of the year. You wan t to deal with all that?
As for Christ. It's your belief. That's fine, but remember two things:
1. The Puritans, the original settlers that some of you bring up when discussing the holidays, were AGAINST Christmas.
2. Some people believe Christ was born in the summer and the whole "birth" thing was moved to cover a pagan holiday.
Now, this is for both of you (and you media people as well). Stop this. It's a stupid argument. There are children starving in an unheated building just wishing for someone to help them. No, you instead choose to focus on how a tree has been renamed from Christmas to Holiday tree.
Secularists: You're a minority, but you do deserve representation
Christians: Stop talking about "Christmas being under seige." In 1959, it was argued that Communists were trying to drive the Christ out of Christmas. Well, almost 50 years later, I guess they're still trying, right?
So cut the crap. Go to temple, or church, or whatever and hope or pray that this year, Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukkah is event free (no tsunamis or natural disasters) and that the people who really need help get it.
So here's how the war on the war on Christmas works. I tell you all to shut up and help people, and you have a Scrooge moment where you realize "Wow, this is absolutely pointless to argue about," and you go out and help the less fortunate. You stop commercializing the holiday time, and you act, shock of shocks, like a human being.
Stop arguing (and commercializing, you bastards) and help those who need it. Bill O'Reilly, John Gibson, The New York Times, Jerry Falwell, The ACLU, and anyone involved in this argument: shut up. Go out and help someone instead. Help them to be warm, eat, and survive.
That's the true spirit of Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Chanukkah: to help those in need.
Don't argue, just do it, and do it now.
Otherwise I will find a way to raise an army, and we will bring this war to you. And, using humanity as a base, we'll win. Why? Because God prefers humanity to all that other stuff. Trees? Decorations? "That's not the cup of a carpenter."
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy who calls it "The most humanizing time of the year." I could be wrong.
Namaste.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Mail Mondays (12/12/05)
Short and sweet.
How about some mail?
It's been thin this week.
All the emails I have received have been...really negative. I was reading Sopheava's blog (yeah I read other people's blogs), and she had a wonderful comment about the ups and downs. Well, it's been really down for awhile.
For every nice comment I get, I get about seven or eight negatives. There was this HORRENDOUS email I will comment on from a guy who attacked me for being a teacher as well as for making Norm Coleman look bad. Wow, who knew that a guy read by, what, four...five people wielded so much power. Look out Drudge!
The truth is I am way down. I've been fighting it hard, but with so many things going right, I feel...wrong. Whatever. It doesn't matter. That's not why you and I are here.
To the mail!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Multiple comments that read as such:
Hey Leab
You suck!
(Note: Multiple variations on this.)
Anonymous
Dear Anon,
You're right. I do. You want funny? Go to Worm. You want political views on the world, go to the Aggregator. I have said it many times: I'm not worthy of being on the Aggregator. I'm not pretty, computer savvy, living it up in the nightlife, or even Minnesotan. You know what? Write Rex over there and tell him. Don't just sit here and say, "You suck," over and over again. Be proactive. Tell Rex to remove me, tell the people who read me to stop, and write me a simple email (you know where) and tell me to stop writing.
I will.
I write for two reasons. Two simple reasons:
1. I write in the hopes that someone, somewhere sees what I have done, what I think, or what I've seen and it effects that person to change the world, themselves, or whatever, or just plain laughs. There's way too much depression in the world right now.
2. I write to organize my head. To empty it and to make my brain stop running at full speed.
That's it.
But if you want me to stop, do what I suggest above, and I'm out. I'll delete the blog and walk away. Just do it in a manner that's more gentlemanly (and I know you're a man) then just leaving comments.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had another piece of mail here, but I kinda flew off the handle, so I edited it out.
Look, I had a...not great day, so I just need to sleep and think about things.
I have a major announcement, but that will come when the time is right.
Unless this blog is gone in which case I'll leaving a note before it goes.
Hug your loved ones, be loved, and feel needed.
Peace.
How about some mail?
It's been thin this week.
All the emails I have received have been...really negative. I was reading Sopheava's blog (yeah I read other people's blogs), and she had a wonderful comment about the ups and downs. Well, it's been really down for awhile.
For every nice comment I get, I get about seven or eight negatives. There was this HORRENDOUS email I will comment on from a guy who attacked me for being a teacher as well as for making Norm Coleman look bad. Wow, who knew that a guy read by, what, four...five people wielded so much power. Look out Drudge!
The truth is I am way down. I've been fighting it hard, but with so many things going right, I feel...wrong. Whatever. It doesn't matter. That's not why you and I are here.
To the mail!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Multiple comments that read as such:
Hey Leab
You suck!
(Note: Multiple variations on this.)
Anonymous
Dear Anon,
You're right. I do. You want funny? Go to Worm. You want political views on the world, go to the Aggregator. I have said it many times: I'm not worthy of being on the Aggregator. I'm not pretty, computer savvy, living it up in the nightlife, or even Minnesotan. You know what? Write Rex over there and tell him. Don't just sit here and say, "You suck," over and over again. Be proactive. Tell Rex to remove me, tell the people who read me to stop, and write me a simple email (you know where) and tell me to stop writing.
I will.
I write for two reasons. Two simple reasons:
1. I write in the hopes that someone, somewhere sees what I have done, what I think, or what I've seen and it effects that person to change the world, themselves, or whatever, or just plain laughs. There's way too much depression in the world right now.
2. I write to organize my head. To empty it and to make my brain stop running at full speed.
That's it.
But if you want me to stop, do what I suggest above, and I'm out. I'll delete the blog and walk away. Just do it in a manner that's more gentlemanly (and I know you're a man) then just leaving comments.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had another piece of mail here, but I kinda flew off the handle, so I edited it out.
Look, I had a...not great day, so I just need to sleep and think about things.
I have a major announcement, but that will come when the time is right.
Unless this blog is gone in which case I'll leaving a note before it goes.
Hug your loved ones, be loved, and feel needed.
Peace.
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