Perdition and Politics

So you think things are bad in Washington?

For those of you who don't live in our Pretty Great State anymore, you're going to miss this. But I wanted to share a piece of it with you.



This is the guy who made a ton of money off of in-your-face marketing, and now he's taking that energy to capitol hill. And this time he's bringing the hellfire and damnation with him. It's worth following some of his statements online as they come along because they sound like they were written by Wierd Al, and if you're like me, you saw "UHF" and you loved it.

This is also the same dude who drove his company into the ground after being arrested for brandishing a handgun in traffic and landing his parachute on or near the freeway. This is better than Arnold.

Kiss it, California.

It's a Girl!

Just a quick note. The wife and I found out last week that we are having a girl. We are due in February. For those who don't know this will be number four for us. Our lineup will now be girl, boy, girl, girl.

Fantasy Hoops

Hey, I've never done fantasy hoops but since I'm enjoying fantasy football so much I thought I'd mention that Beau is hosting a fantasy hoops league. He has the e-mail address to sign up over at his blog. I'm signing up and I hope some of you foo's do too.

Born to Sing

Last week I commented on Tony's bday post about the musical mentoring he provided me with early in my acting career. Today I chuckled as I watched the clip posted by Jed. As most of you know, singing is not one of my natural talents. The thing is I've always wished I was singer. In fact, it was sometimes frustrating being friends with individuals who had amazing singing abilities. It just seemed like Jed, Mikey, Tony, Rob and Kirk could effortlessly sing whereas my attempts were, well, not as good. I have to admit my singing ability has progressed since high school, I can stay on key with the melody and even stick to a part with a little practice and someone really loud to stand next to but I still am a little envious of true singers. Luckily my singing career has brought me some great memories that I would have never experienced had I been a virtuoso:

1. During Music Man music rehearsals one day I was the only bass besides Gerald Reynolds. This was not good because I was only with the basses because that was a the group I randomly assigned myself to during call backs because I figured singing low was easier than singing high. Anyways, at one point in the rehearsal Mr Lindsey instructed the bases to sing their part. I did my best but afterward Gerald and I sang Mr Lindsey looked concerned asked us to try it again. The second time I only mouthed the words and he seemed much more pleased with how things sounded.

2. For Guys and Doll tryouts I sang a Harry Connick Jr. song that I knew the words to but had never seen the music. When it was my turn, I sauntered out onto the stage and gave a rousing rendition of "When you love the language..." I thought it sounded pretty snappy and it appeared Mrs. Payne and the other's did too because they asked me to sing another song, this time accompanied by piano. I remember thinking, "yes, I passed the first hurdle, they most only ask for another song when you really sound good." It was until later that the second song was only to confirm their suspicions that I really had no idea what I was doing.

Here's to all of us who can't sing well but still do, sing on oh off key singers!

Always Sentiment To Remind Me

I know this is an oldie, but it's a goodie. Even if you've seen it, you should hang in there just one more time. It's a cure for "the mondays" (can't believe I just typed that).

I will sometimes leave this tab open on friday when I shut down so that on Monday when I start up, my homey is there to infuse me with the cheer I need to plod through the coming week.

This is even better than coffee (or so I've heard).

Master of what now...?

So if I've kept tabs right...

Holmes and Benson are professor types, and both are under 30.
Duerden's working on the PhD, maybe a year or two left.
Kirk is blocking chumps into an oblivion
Sandberg might be a doctor all ready (what ever happened to Sandberg?)
DH is in Med. School.
Vanderhorst is the king of Iceland.
Mikey and Brandy are teaching the kids.
Jed...I don't really know what Jed does, but he's got three kids and two houses (to my understanding)

And then there's me.

While all others seem to be at, or close to, a career destination, I find myself in the middle obtaining a degree...which will allow me to get...another degree. And while I knew this when I applied for this degree, it still chaps me a bit that when I'm fished I won't be done. I work hard, pass my classes, pass my comps, pass my thesis...

...and get to go to three to five more years of school and do it AGAIN! AHHHH!

If I go the theater history/crit. road I'll have taken probably eleven theater history/literature classes by the time it's all done. ELEVEN!

I think in the past, maybe in the fifties or something, I could have gotten a job at a community college with an MA, but with today's competitive job market there's just NO WAY a theater guy can get on at a school with out a PhD or MFA. Which leaves me with three choices.

1. PhD in Theater, Film or Performance Studies. This is probably the best route to take, but it's probably four or five more years of school.

2. MFA in Directing. I'd probably be a good candidate at many schools with my age and experience, and I'd enjoy the curriculum a bit more than the PhD stuff, but snagging a job would be tougher post graduation because most hoity-toity universities prefer PhD's.

3. Bite the bullet and work for the man. At my current job managers come and go at an alarming rate. If I had started at the front desk I'd probably be a manager by now. In a few years I'd move up the latter, probably move locations three or four times and eventually become a GM somewhere. Knowing the staff and management at the property I work at I've come to understand that it wouldn't be real hard to learn all the ins and outs, and I'd be a good manager. Smart enough to be good, Smart enough not to be TOO good. Stay off the radar in both directions. Would get good pay, and have GREAT hotel stay benefits.

BUT, I'd be a corporate sell out. I'd probably would hate my job until I was the poo-bah. Holidays wouldn't exist (remember that if you're ever eating at the Howard Johnson's on Christmas, some of the workers never get a holiday off) and bowing down to the creeps who yell and scream about complementary coffee and the temperature of their room would be just part of a days work.

But if I do option 3 all of my schooling wouldn't have contributed to my career. And knowledge for knowledge's sake is great, but I'd like to cash in this knowledge somewhere.

There's no easy answers, and frankly I'm about a year and a half away from needing to make a decision, so while you're all working at your careers in two years and are having a bad day, just remember you could be in a classroom with a stuck up professor asking you about the importance of Plato's cave as it relates to theater, and THEN maybe your job won't seem so bad.

What dreams may come

Here's to Holmes and this blog.

But first, my dream.



Last night, one of a few before my "full" sleep test to determine whether or not I'll spend the rest of my life with a snot blower up my nose to counteract my potential apnea (but in truth, I'd rather just die early), I dreamed a dream. And you were there, and you. You I've never seen before... (Tone, I'm counting on you to pick that up.)

We were at some resort in the mountains. Some place I've never been. It was a sort of Hilton at Aspen kind of place-- not great, but not a motel. Everything had that "Rocky Mountain" look: unfinished lumber, Native American prints on woolen blankets draped over hearths-- that sort of thing.

It was close to 6 am. Maybe just after. And the kids were stirring, because it's a hotel and they never do well at a hotel (can I get an AMEN, anyone who has traveled with their kids?). They decide they're up for the morning, and Jayne is beat, so I say I'll take the kids down to see what's at the Breakfast Bar.

So we're walking through this grand old lobby, I'm in a bathrobe and slippers (what the?) and the kids are pulling on bagels and I see Rob and Taliatha meandering toward me. I'm shocked to see them and, for some reason, they are not so shocked to see me. Tai waves, good naturedly, and Rob looks abashed. Then, not a few feet behind, comes Durerden and Chambers with their wives. Then Tone and Mikey. Mikey looks violently ashamed. And then it occurs to me... The reason for all the shamed faces, the darting eyes. Tone wouldn't even look at me. I think Steve-O finally said "Hey, we're just going to nab some breakfast." No, it was Rob. He just stood there, so guilty.

But it was clear that you didn't all just find yourselves there at this resort and say, Hey! It's six in the morning. Let's grab some breakfast! You had clearly arranged it-- and gone to great lengths. We were in freaking Aspen, for crying out loud. And here I am, dragging my kids through the lobby when I meet you all and it's clear I'm the last person on earth you had hoped to see. Freaking Benson and Vanderhorst were there! This grand reunion, and no one called me. (My dad, the shrink, would lean back in his chair at this point and roll his eyes. This is like, Psych 101, anxiety dream fodder. To think his own son would have such transparent dreams...)

Someone was saying, "We couldn't reach you" or something, but I was too flustered to respond. I just plowed through the mob with my kids and went back to the room. I even got online to see if there was an email I missed. But there was nothing. I left the room to investigate and that's where the dream started to unravel and nothing made sense anymore. I ended up in the basement of the HFAC trying to break into a dark room with one of my Photography professors.

Nothing made sense but this, and this is the kicker: I vowed, at some point, never to post on The Provonian again.

Which is what brings me back to where I started. Cheers to Holmes for putting the blog in place. A year ago, it wouldn't have entered my thoughts, let alone my dreams. And now, it seems, when the world is crashing down around me and all my friends have abandoned me, my only revenge in that universe of melting clocks and criss-crossed nerves and sinews, was to take a vow of silence on our joint blog.

Unluckily for the rest of you, I was dreaming. And I'm going to post again, and again, and again, and again...