Absence

Fellow readers-
I apologize for my inconsistancy in the last few days- I have been busy with rehearsals, and have not been sitting at a desk all day (i.e. work), so the blog entries have been sparse.
Nothing really exciting to report- it's Memorial Day and I'm sitting in good ol' PA, waiting to eat some burgers and dawgs. I'm hungry.
I did, however, have another good dream last night, so I will share. And, true to form, I shared the details of my dream with Robert and Nakia this morning while we relaxed by the pool.
In my dream, I met Ben Kweller (for those of you who don't know, a great singer/songwriter), while walking down the street. He approached me, and asked me if I'd like to go back to his condo so we could get to know each other. We instantly made a connection, and I went back with him to his apartment. His place was decorated really effeminately, with salmon-colored walls and little trinkets on the tables. I complemented him on the decor, and he said he was in touch with his feminine side. We started making out, not the gropey making out, but the really intense kissing making out. I LOVE that kind of making out! Anyway...I suddenly fell madly in love with Ben Kweller, and I like to think he fell madly in love with me. He then asked me if I wanted to hear some new songs he was working on, and he took out his guitar and songbook, which was full of actual manuscripts- not just guitar chords- and that impressed me. Unfortunately, I woke up a minute later, upset that I was no longer with Ben, but happy that I got to make out with him- even if it was in my dreams.

R.E.M.

On average, I remember about 4 dreams a week. Just ask Robert or Nakia- they always seem to hear about my nighttime subconscious escapades. Sometimes my dreams are reeeeally far out, sometimes they are very realistic, and occasionally, I dream about making out with a hot guy or flying. Those are my favorites.
I didn't remember my dream last night until about 15 minutes ago, when I ran into Josh (fake name for my sake!) from my lab. Josh is a nice guy, nothing special. We say hi and bye, and that's about it. But he was in my dream last night and was..ahem...indisposed. Or naked. Yes he was naked. But he was naked because he asked to use my shower...the shower in my apartment in Paris. He dropped trou and was walking around nude. Apparently, when I go to France in my dreams, Josh is there and needs to wash up. The worst part about the nudity was the fact that IT was very unforgiving. I have no idea what IT is like in real life, nor will I ever, but in my dream, ehh.....not so good.
So...I was a little red-faced when I saw Josh in the hall today. Hopefully that was his first and last appearance in my dreams, but who knows. Maybe tonight I can dream about the med student in a speedo...now THAT would be a good dream.

I heard you the first time

Why do people feel the need to explain things six times? Or read out loud TO me what is on the piece of paper in front of me, as if I can't make out the letters and symbols that make up the English language. News flash- I am literate, I can hear, and I'm smart. I GET IT!

What the hell am I doing here?

As I was driving to rehearsal in D.C. yesterday, "Creep", by Radiohead, came on the airwaves, and I immediately turned it allllll the way up and started singing along. I was reminded of a similar situation involving this song, and laughed out loud in my car.
I was in the 8th grade when the new neighbors moved in next door. We had the same lovely neighbors for most of my childhood, but they bought a different house across town, and after they moved, it was all down hill. This family, who currently still occupies the house, has 4 children- 3 girls and a boy. As curious 13-year olds do, I was peeking out the windows of my house, watching them cart their crappy furniture and boxes through the front door, wondering if we would have to car pool with them. They had spent the better part of the day hauling things, so by evening, the activity had mostly stopped, and it was safe to go back outside on the front porch. I had my walkman in hand, earphones on, radio set to 105.7 (The EDGE), and "Creep" came on. I thought I was DA BOMB, being raised on Depeche Mode, The Smiths, The Cure, and, at 13, Nine Inch Nails, Radiohead, and Ministry. I climbed up on the brick railings of the porch, humming along to the song. I kept glancing around, checking up and down the street to make sure no one was coming, and then I let it go- sreaming at the top of my lungs to "run....run...run...ruuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn". As I was belting along with all of Tom York's glory, I turned around just in time to see Ian, my new 14-year-old neighbor, staring at me. I fell off of the railing, turned off my walkman, and waited for my death of embarassment. I heard him chuckling as he walked into his house, and I remained on the floor of the porch for a good 10 minutes, until I was absolutely sure he wasn't going to see me run back into my house.
I think I avoided all contact with Ian for the next year, until I was forced to ask his friend for a ride home. He probably forgot all about my karoke moment, but I still remember it, vividly, to this day.

Flying the friendly skies

Another good one from Margie:


An airline's passenger cabin was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served them food and drinks. As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and announced to the passengers, Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he'll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super."

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed a well-dressed rather exotic looking woman hadn't moved a muscle. "Perhaps you didn't hear me over those big brute engines. I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground."
She calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess. I take orders from no one." To which the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat,
"Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I'm called a Queen, so I out rank you. Tray-up, Bitch."

Selective Hearing

I hate it when I'm talking to someone and they are obviously not paying attention to what I am saying. Now, I am guilty of this myself- sometimes I encouter someone who talks just to hear him or herself talk, and I tune it out. Or sometimes, if my Mom is repeating the same story or instructions, I politely nod and say " mhmm"...even though I'm looking at the Spring edition of the JCPenny cataologue.
But when someone is telling me a story or bit of information that is worth being important enough to tell, I listen. And I rarely forget. I wish I could say that my re-laying of information is processed the same way, but it's not. I have told people/friends/family members stories, plans, places I'll be, and countless times, they don't listen. Then I have to hear "I didn't know that...you didn't tell me." Or, "Oh...yeah..how's that going?", or "Oh really? I didn't know you were doing that." But you did...or you would have known- had you been listening.
Nothing in particular made me write this entry, so I don't want any friends to think I'm calling them out. It's just a general thought, and something I'm sure we all experience. So the next time someone (you feel like listening to) is talking to you, do them the courtesy of listening- because if you're not listening, they'll stop telling you things.

Mystic Tan

One would think, by looking at my current skin tone, that I just got back from Aruba. But indeed, unless Aruba is in Timonium, I didn't go on vacation. But I DID get a free mystic tan today, courtesy of one Andrea "Jennifer" Wiltzius. Robert and I made the trip the the 'burbs to become standing-boothe bathing beauties.
Normally, I am a pastey white lady, with a creamy skin tone that takes weeks of every day sunbathing to bronze. But thanks to the spray-on benefits of the vapourized Mystic Tan, I have completed the transformation from chalky to goldy in minutes. And it looks good with my hair!
I think it should only last for about 3 days...perfect since they will think I changed ethnicities at rehearsal tomorrow. But it makes me excited for the summer, and for the beach. Jersey shore, here I come!

Wet child in the city

Now that I have started rehearsals for Washington Summer Opera, I find myself with much time on my hands, inbetween call times. Par example: I had rehearsal last night until 9:30, and then this morning, a meeting at 10. We finished the cast meeting at about 10:45, but I wasn't called again until 4:30. Five hours at Catholic University, with a book that I could finish in 60 minutes. So I decided to hit the Smithsonian, being that it is free, and it only cost me $3.00 on the metro, round trip. Well, the weather was less than desirable today, with sheets of rain and gusts of cold wind whipping across the National Mall. I was soaked by the time I arrived at the Air and Space Museum, and even more horrified when I stepped inside to discover that every middle school child from here to Maine was visiting the Smithsonian today. Now, don't get me wrong- I like kids, if they are well behaved and/or hilarious. But not hundreds of them...and not in gross, wet clothes, running around museums, pushing past me on the stairs. Great form of birth control.
After several hours of aimlessly wondering around museums, with IPOD earphones on to drown out the pre-teen chatter, I needed some coffee. But do you think I could find a Starbucks or (insert independant coffee shop here) that wasn't 10 blocks away in the pouring, cold, rainy weather? That's a no.
So...back to Catholic U, where I downed a Diet Pepsi and nearly belched several times while singing through my aria. Not smart. To make the soaked day even more fun, I sat in 2 hours of traffic coming home- a trip that usually takes 45 minutes. On the way home, I had to stop at the store, where I was (again!) pushed out of the way by some stupid sorostitute who cut me off in the grocery line. Not only did she practically race me to the line, but she was angry because my cart was blocking the area where she was to return her basket. Instead of asking me to put the basket back, which I would have done even though she was a bitchface, she huffed and puffed as she tried to fit around my cart. UGH. Hope those bagel chips and cheese go straight to your thighs, Ms. Black Pants.
So that was my day. Kinda sucky, but makes for good reading material. And now...TV and sleep.

the pope is a drunk

Bottoms up!

Oy vey

I had lunch at Helen's Garden today with my boss, office staff, and another prestigious, wealthy man. Upon learning that I am a classical singer, the man suggested that I get a job singing in the professional choir at his synagogue. I told him I wish that I could get a job at his temple- the high holy days are a great money maker! But, unfortunately, most synagogues in this area don't hire Gentile singers. He said, "Well then just change your name to Hilary Goldberg!"

Step Back

I always get really annoyed when I am walking down the hallway/sidewalk/mall/parking lot/whatever and the person walking behind me is on my heels. Flashbacks of Scooby Doo (the ghost is gaining on us, Scoob!) run through my head. What is the deal? I am not a slow walker, and I'm in good shape, so I walk at a decent rate. But on the other hand, I don't sprint down the sidewalk, only to rush to an elevator for which I have to wait. That's right...most of the time, these overly-excited-fast-walkers rush past me, only to wait for an elevator. If you're so quick, Mr. Fast-Walking-Heel-Stepper, then why don't you take the stairs?
One time, I was walking into my building at work, and the girl who was walking behind me was so close, that she literally RAN INTO ME when I bent down to tie my shoe. There was plenty of space on the sidewalk- it's not like we were exiting a New York Subway car at Times Square, 5 PM. But she ran into me, and was all flustered and apologetic, before darting off to do some experiments. I wanted to say, Hey..slow down! The lab will still be there in 30 seconds.

So..when walking behind someone you think is passable, do the right thing- pass on the left or right, at a reasonable rate. Don't tailgate- it's REALLY annoying. And that goes for driving too.

Yum

A co-worker of mine is eating a egg muffin thingie, and it smells reeeeeeeally good. Yum.

Amazing

Just when I think my life sucks, I am reminded that it could be worse. I could be trapped in a canyon, pinned between a boulder and the canyon wall, and have to amputate my own arm in order to save my life. Now THAT would be worse than not finding an apartment, being broke, and having a cold sore. That is what happened to Aron Ralston, the star of the TLC documentary I watched last night.
Aron is an avid outdoorsman and adventure-seeking guy, who worked as an engineer for several years before quitting his job and embracing the outdoors fulltime. A little drastic, yes...but at least he loves what he does. While hiking in a canyon in Utah, Aron became trapped in the middle of BFE when an 800 lb. boulder came tumbling toward him, and pinned his right arm against the wall of the canyon, making it impossible for him to move. He was stuck in a standing position, in a space about 2 ft. wide. To make a long story short, he spent 5 nights and 6 days trapped in this position, with only 1 bottle of water and 2 burritos in his backpack. He rationed out portions for the first 3 days, and spent the next 3 without any food or water. The most amazing thing to me is that he remained completely mentally in tact, as he was documenting the whole thing on video. He narrated what was going on, and took time to say goodbye to his friends and family. Just when he was ready to embrace death, he discovered that by torquing his body a certain direction, he could break 2 bones in his arm, and then amputate the dead weight. He amputated his own arm with a POCKET KNIFE. !!!
After the surgery, he still had to escape the canyon, with one arm...that meant finding another way out, since he could not climb the 15 ft. wall in front of him. After making his way out of the canyon, he had to scale down a 6 story cliff, AND walk 7 miles back to his truck. Also, the nearest hospital was a 2 hour drive. Thankfully, a helicopter just happened to be flying above the canyon, located him, and flew him to the nearest hospital. And all of that after 3 days with no food or water, an amputated arm, blood loss, and a shedding of 45 lbs of body weight. WOW.
So....the next time I think that I just can't manage the shittiness of a situation, or the rejection of an audition, or the lack of money in my bank account, I will think of Aron. He is truly amazing.

Crapstorm

ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bad day. Bad week. Bad month.

(well....except for the fact that I'm singing really well and am really ready for rehearsals to start. Thank God for that.)

Had to get that out. And no, I don't feel better despite the cookie I just ate.

Hobo Camp

Finding a new apartment can be fun- if you're not me. My recent search for a two bedroom apartment, with a 9 month or month-to-month least option, has been less than a success and has become VERY frustrating. Why this less-than-a-year lease need, you ask? Because I am moving to the Big Apple next spring. Then I'll really be a starving artist!
I have lived in Baltimore for three years, in 2 different great apartments. I had to move out of the first apartment because I could no longer afford the rent. And now, I'm bascially moving for the same reason. That, and because my baby sister is moving down to Bawl'mer to try her hand at city livin.
I've been making phone calls almost daily for the last month, searching for an affordable place, with modest ammenities (CAC is a must) that is close enough to where I need to be. You think I can find someone who is willing to rent to a young professional with good credit who pays her bills on time, AND has 2 college degrees? That's a no. "No, sorry...we only have year-long leases". "No, sorry...I'd rather rent to a poor college student who will ultimately sublet it out over the summer." "No sorry...I'm looking for someone to sign a 2-year lease." What the hell? I'm good for it, people.
I know what it's like to live in an absolute shithole. Case in point, my senior year of college- my house CAUGHT ON FIRE. I was homeless for several days, forced to spend the remaining three months of my undergraduate career in University SHOEBOX housing, and having to throw out a good deal of my belongings, due to smoke damage. I went from that to a gorgeous, huge city apartment, complete with CAC, W/D, diswasher, and my own bathroom. Purty fancy.
So the frustrating hunt continues. I know I'll find SOMETHING. I have to...or else I'll have to live out of the POD I rent for my things. So all you landlords out there pay attention. I don't want to be homeless again!

Star Struck

I turned on the Today Show this morning, with the 3 minutes I had to eat my toast, and my friend Alison was on the screen! At first, I wasn't sure that it was her, because she was being filmed from the side. But once Katie Couric said "And thank you to Alison Show", I started screaming. It's amazing- the thrill of seeing someone you know on TV, or on a huge stage for that matter, is exciting. Celebrity-like!
I called Alison after the segment was over, and her friend Asher answered her cell phone from the green room of NBC studios. She quickly called me back, saying that she would be on again, in the 9:00 segment. Someone is taping it for me.
I like to think that when I move to New York next year, seeing a celeb. on the street won't phase me. But in reality, I can't stop talking about my FRIEND who is on TV once, let alone regular TV and movie actors. I guess it's kind of like having a crush- butterflies and all.

Shining Through

A few evenings ago, I was caught in traffic (shocker), and I noticed the man driving the car behind me was wearing sunglasses. Now, it was dusk...the sun was no longer shining, and it certainly wasn't bright enough to need an eye shield. So what the hell? Not only was he wearing sunglasses, but he also failed to turn on his headlights. I guess he figured he was already blinded enough by the light of the moon, so why make it worse? People like that really annoy me- add it to the loooooong list of horrible driving habits in this city. But then again, I have road rage.
The point is, don't wear your sunglasses at night- no matter what the song says. Wearing your Oakleys in the dark does not Jack Nicholson you make.

Pomp and Circumstance

Congratulations to my younger sister who graduated from college last Friday! Welcome to the real world, Ashley- it sucks.

I stayed at Ashley's apartment on Friday night, since there was no room in the hotel rooms my parents reserved. We stayed up late, playing Go Fish and drinking the remaining crappy beer in her fridge, and it got me thinking about what I did the night before I graduated. The night before, actually, I stayed at the Hampton Inn with my parents, because I had already moved out of my apartment the week before graduation. But TWO nights before graduation, I had fun. I went to the Brew Pub, a favorite spot in Morgantown, WV, with my friend Beckie and a few others I can't remember at this point in time. We drank a few beers, and re-hashed stories of old times. Then I left the Brew Pub and met up with my friend Danno. Danno and I met as freshmen; we lived in the same dorm. I met him at a "White House" party; a house that threw the biggest, craziest parties my freshmen year. Serious events. Anyway, I was crusing some cute boy in a green coat, but I lost track of him in the large crowd of people. Danno, who was standing next to me, promptly introduced himself, and offered to find the green coat cute boy, as I was too short to see over the mass of beer drinkers. I thought that was sweet...so I forgot about green coat, and started talking to Danno. Danno told me that he lived in my dorm, and often ate breakfast at the same time as me..so that's how he recognized me. At first I thought it was a little stalker-ish, but considering I always had 8:00 AM classes, there weren't TOO many people in the dining hall at that time. We became fast friends, and he saw that I got home safely that night, wasted as I was. We started hanging out..he was one of 3 non-music friends I had. I remember going shopping for his Mom's birthday gift, or Mother's Day..one of the two. I really liked Danno, but I knew we were headed to our respective home states for summer break, so what could really happen? Well, we stayed in touch all summer, meanwhile not telling each other we had started to date other people, and when school started again in the fall, our friendship continued. We were friends all throughout undergrad, with an enormous amount of sexual tension between us, but niether of us were ever single at the same time.
Enter graduation week.

That brings me up to date with what I did two nights before graduation. Sparing any details, not that I think Danno would mind, I wont forget my college graduation. Oh..and I guess getting that degree and whatnot was important too.

This just made my day

James Valenti: where are you?
James Valenti: whats new in your life? are you married yet?
Me: hahah
Me: far from it
James Valenti: is it too late for me?
Me: i'm in baltimore
Me: not too late for you, james valenti


Be jealous, ladies. And gentlemen.

Peaches & Cream

I love listening to music through my headphones. It's a soundtrack for the city. Sometimes, I wish everyone could hear what I'm listening to..like a music video. Often, when working out at the gym, I think that everyone would be inspired to run an extra mile, thanks to Alkaline Trio, or do another 10 minutes on the elliptical, grooving to Information Society. OK...so maybe Information Society isn't so popular anymore, but IIII like them.

I also love it when I hear a GREAT song that I haven't heard in a while. Like Creep, by Radiohead, or Last Goodbye, by Jeff Buckley, or Joey, by Concrete Blonde. Songs like that are best enjoyed when you don't hear them every day in the Ipod rotation- maybe I should remove Jeff from the Shuffle.

And that's what I think!

In a hurry

Europeans do something fabulous- mitags pause; siesta; break! Most businesses close from noon to 2:00 or 3:00, so the shopkeepers can take time eating lunch, take a nap, or just generally relax. I spent a summer in Salzburg, Austria and LOVED this concept. In between opera rehearsals, we strolled down the River Salz, ate leisurely lunches, and browsed store windows. It was exactly what we needed.
I don't think America will ever adpot this custom. We are bred to go, go, go, and then go some more. It's no wonder we have an obesity epidemic, heart disease, high blood pressure, and a thousand other stress-related dieseases. Our lives are hectic and fast-paced.
Although I long for a two-hour break in my work day, I also have to admit that A) I am an East-Coaster: born and raised, and B) Subscribe to the fast-pace lifestyle of this country. I spent six years in higher learning institutions, where I had (in undergrad) no less than 20 credits per semester, on top of rehearsals, recitals, performances, auditions, and other gigs. My life was crazy! I was so busy and occupied that taking two hours for a midday break would have been immposible. As a result, I am impatient. I hate waiting in long lines, I hate traffic, I hate walking behind someone in a store who, apparently, has all the time in the world. I hate waiting at Rite Aid for a perscription to be filled, when I am the only person at the counter! And, as ONE person whose name I will not mention pointed out (*Ahem* a chef *Ahem*), I have road rage.
I plan on living my life on the East Coast, and (hopefully) Europe. I know when I arrive across the pond, adjusting to the lifestyle will take some time, but it will be soooo welcomed. But as for now, pick up the pace! I don't have all day.

BJ

Martha recently lost her husband. She had him cremated and brought his ashes home. Picking up the urn, she poured him out on to the patio table. Then, while tracing her fingers in the ashes, she started talking to him.
"Herman, you know that fur coat you promised me? I bought it with the insurance money."
She paused for a moment, still tracing her fingers through the ashes. She then said, "Herman, you remember that new car you promised me? Well, I also bought it with the insurance money."
Again, she paused for a few moments while still tracing her fingers in the ashes and eventually said, "Herman, that emerald necklace you promised me? Bought that with the insurance money as well."
Finally, still tracing her fingers through the ashes, she said "Herman, remember that blow job I promised you? Here it comes!"

Irish Gas Station

*Disclaimer*- I am of Irish decent! So don't be offended.

Taking a wee break from the golf course, Tiger Woods drives his new Mercedes into an Irish gas station. An attendant greets him in typical Irish manner, unaware who the golf pro is...
"Top o' the mornin' to ya."
Tiger gest out of the car and two tees fall out of his pocket.
"So what are those things, laddie?", asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"And what would you be usin 'em for, now?" inquires the Irishman.
"Well, they're for resting my balls on when I drive", replies Tiger.
"Aw, Jaysus, Mary an'Joseph!" exclaims the Irishman. "Those fellas at Mercedes think of everything!"

Little Johnny

From the desk of Margie:

Little Johnny attended a horse auction with his father. He watched as his father moved from horse to horse, running his hands up and down the horse's legs, rump, and chest. After a few minutes, Johnny asked, "Dad, why are you doint that?" His father replied, "Because when I'm buying horses, I have to make sure that they are healthy and in good shape before I buy." Johnny, looking worried, said, "Dad, I think the UPS man wants to buy Mom."