One Week, Three Musicals

I almost forgot about this. Over the course of one week I somehow managed to see three musicals. One in DC and two while in Chicago. I actually have seen three shows in one week before -- for my drama class while studying in London -- but never three musicals in two cities. (And for the record musicals are on my List of Most Favorite Things alongside fountains and chandeliers.)

Spring Awakening, Kennedy Center, Washington DC

Overall I enjoyed it, though it was obviously quite different from anything I've seen on stage before. But I I knew what it was about going in, which is more than I can say for the woman beside me who didn't return after intermission. It was still sometimes shocking, perhaps a bit over-the-top in its desire to be outrageous, but it was good. I enjoyed the songs, the story, and the acting.

Tupperware: An American Musical Fable, La Costa Theatre, Chicago

This was a small play outside of downtown that had a sister of a friend of the roommate's in it. It was incredibly funny, with great acting and catchy songs. I suppose the premise alone proves I will indeed see a musical on anything. However, it was interesting with a highly original topic and a good plot.

Jersey Boys, Bank of America Theatre, Chicago

Well-acted, amazingly sung, and surprisingly both funny and touching. I forgot how many wonderful songs The Four Seasons had. And I knew I was in for a treat when a sign leading into the theatre warned of "authentic Jersey boy language." No harm in that. It was just a true feel-good, can't-help-but-smile type of production.

Next show is TBD until I decide whether or not to see Second City's Barack Stars that's currently in D.C. I hate paying full price for tickets, but I don't know how much longer I can resist a show satirizing Democrats with dancing, singing, and swearing.

Chicago!

With the roommate/friend, a small guidebook, and all the Chicago knowledge I've picked up on from Kanye, Oprah, and Obama, I set off for my first trip to the mid-west on Friday and had a wonderful mini-vacation in Chicago.

I've uploaded all my photos to my Flickr, in the Chicago set on the right. I won't go into a lot of detail here as the pictures pretty much speak for themselves. But here are the main points I will remember about the city, in true you-really-shouldn't-take-me-too-seriously fashion.

1. The Windy City really is windy, and cold, especially for July. I honestly don't know what the weather typically is like there, so maybe it's normal. But as a die hard East Coaster, particularly a Southern East Coaster, July without oppressive heat and humidity just isn't July. I had some jeans, but only sandals and one cardigan, and spent most of the weekend cold. Seeing as how I barely survive D.C. winters, I've always known I could never handle a Chicago one. But I thought I could at least make it through a summer weekend. I really am far weaker than I thought.

2. It smells a little bit. I don't mean this rudely, but it did. D.C. doesn't exactly smell like roses, but I really don't notice an odor that often, unless we're talking about certain metro station areas or alleys. But there was a definite smell. In its defense, though, I was primarily in the tourist-heavy areas, so that may have had something to do with it. And maybe D.C. really is stinky, too, I just have become one with it and don't even know it. (The fountain has nothing to do with the smell, I just really really love it.)

3. There are revolving doors in nearly every building. I've been thinking about this a lot because that's just what I do. I recall quite a few in New York and barely any in London. And maybe D.C. has a lot that I just don't realize, but I swear I've never seen as many as I did in Chicago. I mean, even a Walgreen's had one! I just don't do well with them, not surprising, I'm sure. I'm constantly waiting for my foot to get stuck behind me or to miss the chance to exit and get stuck going 'round and 'round while people laugh and gawk 'round and 'round me in surround sound. Plus there was an episode of Dead Like Me where a guy tripped and fell into the door just as someone was turning it and his neck broke and he died. (The one revolving door I didn't mind was at Tiffany's, where I finally bought something after being in love with the store since I first saw Breakfast at Tiffany's more than ten years ago.)

4. Literally towering over the city on The Ledge. After an interminable wait we finally made our way to the Skydeck of the SEARS Tower. (Yes, it changed its name a day before we arrived, but I refuse to acknowledge it.) First, I am terribly afraid of heights. Or, rather, terribly afraid of plummeting to my death. I also get vertigo and lose all sense of perception when I'm up high or on spiraling or steep staircases. But after waiting in five lines, for three hours, with incredibly pushy and smelly people, once I made it up to the top, I knew I'd regret it later if I didn't take full advantage of every opportunity. This included venturing out ever so cautiously on the newly-opened "Ledge," where one can stand on a glass panel extending away from the building, to look down at the city below as your life flashes before your eyes. I only stayed a minute or so, tiptoeing the whole time, and never quite losing the swaying feeling heights give me, but it definitely was one heck of a view. That I have no desire to ever see again. Ever.

5. Getting away. I love travel almost more than anything and as much as I love home, most of my trips in the past two years have been solely to there. So it was nice to go somewhere new, get away from my real world, and just be still for a little while. It was also nice to go with Brandie, who I've never travelled with before.

All in all, with the beautiful "bean," view of Lake Michigan, majestic Buckingham Fountains, gorgeous architecture, and more, I'd definitely go back. Cold, smell, revolving doors and all.

The Mighty Wii

I almost forgot about the most enlightening/demeaning part of the Fourth. As the night wound down, when we should have been slipping into our fireworks and food comas, Joey pulled out the Wii fit.

I've been hearing about this nifty, albeit odd, exercise contraption since they bought it a few months ago. I'm not a big fan of video games -- I don't mind them, I just don't like to play them -- but I am intrigued by all the capabilities and features of the Wii. Which was what led me to step on the spaceship-like Wii board and place my health in its non-existent hands.

The good news? I'm just barely above underweight. The bad news? Everything else. After I painfully and slowly completed the first balance test, I was haughtily inquired of by the avatar: "Wow, do you find yourself tripping a lot when you walk?"

You know, little fake person whose sole role is to live in a computer and judge others, I do have trouble walking, but at least I can walk.

I wish I could say it only got better, but no, Snooty McAvatar didn't stop there. It then went on to calculate my Wii Age -- whatever the hell that is, it didn't actually define it or give you some idea of where they are coming from, which I have a problem with, but anyway -- which is, drum roll please, 50!

50!

Nothing against 50 year olds, but I'm 25. Unless my Wii age comes with the benefits of an AARP membership and the knowledge that I can retire in 15 years, I'm not too thrilled about this. It also means that when I actually do hit 50 my balance will be so off I won't be able to stand upright.

As if not demoralized enough, I then attempted the step program. Oh no. Rhythm is apparently a key ingredient to Wii Aerobics and I've known for years I just don't have it. Notice the clenched right fist? I was contemplating punching all the little perfectly synchronized Miis.


The Perfect Child then steps up to the mat and proceeds to step and kick his way through the Step and Advanced Step programs. (He likes Advanced Step best because "he likes to kick.") Bastard.

The Perfect Child's girlfriend then takes her turn and steps, swivels, and dodges her way to high score after high score.

In the meantime I sit on the couch and deplore the completely unjust distribution of rhythm, athletic ability, and, apparently, the capability to walk without tripping, in my family. Whereas the brother excels at soccer, tennis, baseball, football, basketball, and Monopoly, I run into things and trip over my own feet. (To go even further on the subject of gene pool distribution, I have panic attacks in the middle of the night while he can count on one hand the number of times he has felt stressed. And let's not get started on which one studied to the point of sickness to pull A's while the other barely had to glance at a book to get theirs.)

Forget the Wii, I'm going to stick with walking in the evenings, which, as it turns out, is a difficult enough task for me.

"Time to do what the British couldn't." (Joey, re: sinking his boat)

The plan since February-ish was for the parents to come up to D.C. for the Fourth. Due to work obligations, this changed at the last minute. I decided instead of staying up here, family-less, I would go home. The Fourth is one of my favorite holidays and even the pull of fireworks on the Mall couldn't compare with burgers on the grill and less-than-legal fireworks. With just barely a week to spare, I splurged on a plane ticket, and set my sights Southward. I got home Thursday night and it was go go go until I got back to D.C. on Sunday night.

I spent a lovely Friday afternoon with the little brother, shopping and then treating him to lunch. His girlfriend had apparently joked with him in the past about how he should offer to pay when he has a meal with me or my sister, but I strongly disagree. Maybe it's because I'm in the middle, so I get to be older and younger, but I think it's the older sibling's job to pay when you go out to eat. And when I'm 90 and he's 87, I'll still pay for lunch.

Friday night we all had dinner and then went to the local mall to see the fireworks. Short show, but good.
Saturday was spent by the pool at home, the perfect Independence Day. Capped off with food galore, the last hour of Jaws, and of course, more fireworks! (Including a record amount of sparklers, pops, and snakes.)

The father and brother are PYROS with a capital P-Y-R-O-S. And thank God, for them, it wouldn't be the Fourth of July without it. This year we had Joey's attempt to blow up a small wooden boat -- christened the Black Pearl -- in the pool. (And don't think the cruel injustice of the fact that we aren't allowed to climb over the sides of the pool, but the boy can set fire to a wooden boat in it, has escaped me.) But it was only an attempt as it never really blew up.

And then we had a wide array of fireworks courtesy of the Lesser Carolina. No trees, dogs, or spectators were harmed in the process. (Though there were a few close calls.)
And did I mention the package of glow bracelets I got from Michael's for a $1, that turned our backyard into a rave? Sort of.

Sunday was mainly spent lazing at home until my flight left in the evening. And that was my Fourth. It was back to the grind on Monday in what has ended up being a surprisingly busy week at work. But that's ok because next week is CHICAGO!

Signs that might be omens say I'm going...

In the past month I've bought four plane tickets. Finally, today, I get to use one. Three guesses where I'm headed but you'll only need one.

"I was thinking as small children think, as if my thoughts or wishes had the power to reverse the narrative, change the outcome." (Joan Didion, TYOMT)

I have been trying to finish this post since Saturday evening. Grr...

Saturday I saw the play The Year of Magical Thinking at the Studio Theatre in DC. Though I was nearly deterred due to a severe rain and lightning storm, I was able to wait it out at a Starbucks before standing in line for my pay-what-you-can tickets.




I first read Joan Didion's book -- about the death of her husband and illness of her daughter -- several years ago and loved it. I've been relatively blessed thus far in my life when it comes to loss, so I am removed enough to handle books on grieving like hers, C.S. Lewis' A Grief Observed, or Gloria Vanderbilt's A Mother's Story.

It was just one actress playing Didion on a small stage with scenery that didn't change. As much as I love sweeping musicals with huge production numbers, my favorite shows have been smaller productions, usually dramas, with fewer than four people. The only other one-person show I've seen was Underneath the Lintel with Richard Schiff in London. It's still in my top five of plays I've ever seen, though, I actually probably think about it more than all of them.

This one was good, though not perfect. As much as I loved the book, I just wasn't that impressed with how it translated to the stage. And while the actress was very talented, and even resembled Didion, I didn't feel a very strong connection to her. And since the subject is so emotionally charged, this was disappointing.

(This also may have been influenced by the twin pillars of Annoying Theatre-Goers I was wedged between. They each immediately staked their claim to the armrests, and then some, intruding into my bubble so as to make me curl into myself to escape their fleshly elbows and too-long shirt sleeves. The one on the left kept making a gurgling sound as if he were choking on his tongue, while the one on the right kept shooting me sideways glances, not sure why. Oh, and the one on the left wasn't actually choking on his tongue. I'm not so cruel as to ignore someone having a crisis.)

And that's that. Next show will be Spring Awakening, I think, unless something else catches my eye first.

"This isn't it is it." (Buckminster Fuller)

According to my father, I neither update my blog enough, nor keep it interesting enough for his liking. Sorry, Daddy, not sure this will be too interesting for you either.

I've been trying to think of what I've been doing lately, and I honestly don't know. I work a lot, read a lot, started walking whenever I can around the Capitol/Mall. I sleep some, eat a little, write none. But it's now officially summer in my mind, as I was waiting until this past weekend was over to declare it so. I spent the weekend doing photo shoots in the Virginia suburbs for work. (I rarely talk about work, but it was for work. In this case, I wrote the training, and then we needed photos to match. I wasn't in them - thank god - just making sure everything was what we needed. It was interesting and different from what I often work on.).

I haven't had a straight up do whatever I want weekend in awhile. I require weekends for rejuvenation and sanity, so this hasn't been ideal. But I'm determined to make the most of this summer, which primarily means getting away. I'm burned out and some days it's all I can do to not scream out obscenities just for the release. So thus far that means Chicago in July and the whirlwind beach/home/Chapel Hill in August. And in between that, who knows? Boston, Philly, Vegas, a beach up here? We shall see.

I did manage to fit in a walk on Saturday evening to see Mr. Lincoln, whom I haven't seen in awhile.


And that's enough of the non-interesting.

"There is beauty in the everyday. And when people learn to look for it, they'll find inspiration in the least likely places." (Cade Martin)

I'm in love with this photo, taken by Cade Martin:

The ballerinas look so elegant and graceful; the man following like a footman right out of Cinderella. And the Carolina blue punchbug and umbrella are quite nice, too. But mostly I like the contrast between their art and the art of the business conducted in the Capitol behind them. And, of course, placing them in the ubiquitous crosswalk just reminds me of my most favorite crosswalk picture:

Forget regret, or life is yours to miss

Last week I fulfilled my mother's day gift to my mom when we saw the Broadway tour of Rent at the Warner Theatre here in D.C., with original cast members Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp.

We first saw it four or five years ago on tour in Raleigh. We went the first time knowing only that it was a popular play with that beautiful song we all know, Seasons of Love. That's it. No idea about the plot, themes, or characters.

Now we've seen the movie version multiple times, have listened to the soundtrack ad nauseum, and think of I'll Cover You as the beautiful song. (Though obviously Seasons... is still quite perfect.) For me personally, this time around, the world has changed, but especially my understanding of it, and thus has my knowledge and perception of the themes the play presents. I cry at different parts, well the same parts, plus several others. And different aspects of it affect me more now that I'm older, on my own, and paying rent instead of living "la vie boheme." (Yes, me, Ms. Shops at the Gap-can't live without her iPod-eats red meat*, still has dreams of a non-conformist bohemian life.)

But all in all, the show was amazing. The stage was rather small, which I think took away from some of the presentation. But since the theatre is so small, and we were quite close to the stage, it felt like you were in the play. The music was loud and invigorating, and most of the actors were amazing. Four enthusiastic thumbs up. (Two for me, two on behalf my mom.)

*I am almost certain that sentence is not grammatically sound. And it's probably not that clear. It's really bugging me but I'll fix it later. I have no idea why I'm pointing this out. It's not like my news ed prof is going to leave me a comment saying "-5." Or will he?

Democracy at its finest

I love this photo from the official White House Flickr photostream:

Blackberrys, cell phones and communications devices are tagged with post-its during a briefing on Afghanistan and Pakistan in the Cabinet Room 3/26/09. Official White House Photo by Pete Souza.

Commenters below the photo point out two things:

1. As high tech as the devices are, they still resort to post-its notes to identify them.
2. How amazingly fun it would be to mix-up the post-its and therefore the phones?

Seriously, I amuse myself entirely too much envisioning what would happen if they were switched. What if Schumer had got Specter's right before he switched parties and saw that he had an "I Love Nancy Pelosi" background and had just purchased the book Why Daddy is a Democrat? (Although now I realize the post-it I thought said Specter actually says Cantor. Damn. I would be the person to get fired from the White House for mixing up the post-its not even intentionally.)

And it looks like the fourth or fifth one down from the top is a digital camera. Someone has clearly been watching some ANTM and wants some fierce photos in the cabinet room. (It goes without saying that I'd have the same intentions. After the business was done, of course. No disrespect.)

I'm kind of obsessed with this photostream now. I really think that no matter your political beliefs, the pictures posted are interesting and offer a glimpse into West Wing dealings that we don't often get.