1. When I got home last night, I tried to open the front door with my work key. (My work "key" is actually an rfid device.)
2. I then proceeded to pack my bag and go to the pool. For once, I even remembered to pack my bath pouf. What I didn't remember was my swimsuit.
3. This morning, I filled up the kettle to make some tea, put it on the stove, and then tried to turn on the flame by pressing buttons on the microwave.
4. I decided to eat cereal for lunch today. (shut up) I reached in to the fridge to get my carton of soy milk, and ended up taking out the brita pitcher instead.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
the show
once upon a time, I started taking classes at WIT.
and every day, I thought, "I should really go see a show put on by the people who are teaching me."
until one day (this Saturday) I finally bought a ticket.
and because of that, I took the metro down to gallery place for the 9:30 show.
and because of that, I got there a little early and ran into a guy from my class.
until finally, the show started and we got to see the final round of FIST, which was awesome, and the troupe Jackie, which was also very good.
and ever since then, I've decided to drag my ass to shows more readily.
seriously, it costs no more than a movie ticket and is incredibly entertaining. hell, if you go to the right show, they will improvise a movie in front of you. too bad the spring run of shows just ended.
and every day, I thought, "I should really go see a show put on by the people who are teaching me."
until one day (this Saturday) I finally bought a ticket.
and because of that, I took the metro down to gallery place for the 9:30 show.
and because of that, I got there a little early and ran into a guy from my class.
until finally, the show started and we got to see the final round of FIST, which was awesome, and the troupe Jackie, which was also very good.
and ever since then, I've decided to drag my ass to shows more readily.
seriously, it costs no more than a movie ticket and is incredibly entertaining. hell, if you go to the right show, they will improvise a movie in front of you. too bad the spring run of shows just ended.
Monday, April 7, 2008
the grease fire.
Once upon a time, there was me.
And every day (well, every weekend anyway) I thought, "I should really go visit my friends in Baltimore who just had a baby," but I was too lazy to actually make the trip.
Until one day, I heard from the friends that they were moving to California.
And because of that, their friends hosted a going away brunch for them yesterday in NE DC.
And because of that, I *finally* got to meet the baby. Also, I helped make pancakes.
Until finally, I started a grease fire on the electric stove. Luckily I was not holding the baby at the time.
And ever since then, the baby's parents have wisely decided to take him out of the room whenever I am near dangerous kitchen appliances.
And every day (well, every weekend anyway) I thought, "I should really go visit my friends in Baltimore who just had a baby," but I was too lazy to actually make the trip.
Until one day, I heard from the friends that they were moving to California.
And because of that, their friends hosted a going away brunch for them yesterday in NE DC.
And because of that, I *finally* got to meet the baby. Also, I helped make pancakes.
Until finally, I started a grease fire on the electric stove. Luckily I was not holding the baby at the time.
And ever since then, the baby's parents have wisely decided to take him out of the room whenever I am near dangerous kitchen appliances.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
sit com
I just realized the word sitcom is short for situational comedy.
my entire world just shifted.
my entire world just shifted.
Monday, March 31, 2008
7 line story
Once upon a time there was an office worker who hated her job.
And every day she drove the 10 miles to work, usually speeding because she couldn't bring herself to leave home on time.
Until one day while she was speeding along, she ran into a trash can someone had left too far from the edge of the road.
And because of that her rearview mirror smacked against her passenger side window, cracking the glass in the mirror.
And because of that she took the car to the dealer who said it would cost $400 to replace the mirror.
Until finally her father thought the dealer was trying to cheat her, so he called his friend at Joe's Auto-Body, who said he'd do the job for $100.
And ever since then the office worker decided never to go to the dealership for car repairs. She still speeds to work, though.
Explanation: We did this in my improv class one day. The idea is you can summarize any story in 7 lines if you stick to the outline above. It's pretty easy to make up a story in that format, but it's surprisingly difficult to shoehorn events from your real life into it. I think it's good practice, though.
"Until one day" is the easiest line. It's where the break in the pattern--the event in your life that was out of the ordinary--occurs. People who can't tell stories well (I include myself) usually jump right to this line and often forget about the other 6. The first 2 give context: Most stories have a few different people in them. "Once upon a time" forces you to figure out who the main character is. "And every day" forces you to define what normal is, so people will know when something abnormal occurs. Lines 4-6 are all about heightening. A story's no good if it's just, "This one weird thing happened this one time." You need a plot twist: how did the one weird thing cause something else? One plot twist isn't enough, though. It's too predictable, so: how did that something else cause a third thing to occur? Having that chain of events gives you forward motion, which you then cap in a climax on line 6. Then, line 7 is the moral or punchline. It's your chance to explain why the story was worth telling in the first place.
So, I think I'm going to try some blog posts in the 7 line story format. It's not like I'm using this thing for anything else, so maybe I can refine my storytelling skills.
And every day she drove the 10 miles to work, usually speeding because she couldn't bring herself to leave home on time.
Until one day while she was speeding along, she ran into a trash can someone had left too far from the edge of the road.
And because of that her rearview mirror smacked against her passenger side window, cracking the glass in the mirror.
And because of that she took the car to the dealer who said it would cost $400 to replace the mirror.
Until finally her father thought the dealer was trying to cheat her, so he called his friend at Joe's Auto-Body, who said he'd do the job for $100.
And ever since then the office worker decided never to go to the dealership for car repairs. She still speeds to work, though.
Explanation: We did this in my improv class one day. The idea is you can summarize any story in 7 lines if you stick to the outline above. It's pretty easy to make up a story in that format, but it's surprisingly difficult to shoehorn events from your real life into it. I think it's good practice, though.
"Until one day" is the easiest line. It's where the break in the pattern--the event in your life that was out of the ordinary--occurs. People who can't tell stories well (I include myself) usually jump right to this line and often forget about the other 6. The first 2 give context: Most stories have a few different people in them. "Once upon a time" forces you to figure out who the main character is. "And every day" forces you to define what normal is, so people will know when something abnormal occurs. Lines 4-6 are all about heightening. A story's no good if it's just, "This one weird thing happened this one time." You need a plot twist: how did the one weird thing cause something else? One plot twist isn't enough, though. It's too predictable, so: how did that something else cause a third thing to occur? Having that chain of events gives you forward motion, which you then cap in a climax on line 6. Then, line 7 is the moral or punchline. It's your chance to explain why the story was worth telling in the first place.
So, I think I'm going to try some blog posts in the 7 line story format. It's not like I'm using this thing for anything else, so maybe I can refine my storytelling skills.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Laurie Anderson
On Saturday, I went to see Laurie Anderson, an apparently pretty famous performance artist (I know nothing about art!), give a lecture about Andy Warhol's Electric Chair at the National Portrait Gallery.
It was... I don't really know what it was. I ended up talking about it afterwards with a bunch of different people who ended up at a series of gallery openings on 14th st afterwards. (Including this opening, at which I felt completely awkward and out of place, because Washington is not a fashionable place, but I'm pretty sure every single person in the tiny minority of Washingtonians who *do* pay attention to fashion was in that room. With me and my frayed jeans and t-shirt.)
She'd obviously prepared ahead of time. She had a whole outline worked out, an interesting powerpoint presentation, and even a working audio element (a really cool excerpt from a talk by William S Burroughs). But it seemed like nerves just took her over. As an ex- occasional debater, I sympathized completely. It was like being a novice debater getting up with just a vague outline of a speech to give a rebuttal to the team with the biggest reputation on the circuit. You just blank. On one level, you know you have interesting things to say, but on another, why are you even pretending to be on par with [former Nats finalists OR PhD Art Historians]. So you stumble through, trying to just hit all the points on the outline, and hoping it isn't going as badly as you think it is. But as you look down at that outline, you think "Why did I even write that? What does that word even say?" Your outline was supposed to be a series of guideposts to jog your memory of the larger speeech you had planned in your head, but all of a sudden, the larger speech is gone, and you're trying to madly reconstruct it from scribbled shorthand.
The result was flashes of what could have been a really great speech by a clearly smart, interesting woman. But the tangents never led anywhere, and they'd just sort of fizzle out instead of getting back to the main point. There were a ton of nervous verbal tics (like, um, so...). The whole thing took an incredibly long time--she ended up throwing out the second half of her speech because 45 minutes through her 1 hour time slot, it was clear she wouldn't have time for it. The kiss of death was when, at one point, she apologized for how badly the speech was going. You never do that. I didn't get a lot out of my limited debate experience, but that's one thing I picked up right away. Never do anything to draw attention away from the points you're trying to make. Yeah, your poor speaking skills might be the elephant in the middle of the room, but if you want to have any chance at all of people remembering anything except that elephant, you. cannot. acknowledge. it.
I'm glad I went, and she definitely got me thinking, but I can't say it was good. Not bad, necessarily, just... screw it. I still have no idea.
It was... I don't really know what it was. I ended up talking about it afterwards with a bunch of different people who ended up at a series of gallery openings on 14th st afterwards. (Including this opening, at which I felt completely awkward and out of place, because Washington is not a fashionable place, but I'm pretty sure every single person in the tiny minority of Washingtonians who *do* pay attention to fashion was in that room. With me and my frayed jeans and t-shirt.)
She'd obviously prepared ahead of time. She had a whole outline worked out, an interesting powerpoint presentation, and even a working audio element (a really cool excerpt from a talk by William S Burroughs). But it seemed like nerves just took her over. As an ex- occasional debater, I sympathized completely. It was like being a novice debater getting up with just a vague outline of a speech to give a rebuttal to the team with the biggest reputation on the circuit. You just blank. On one level, you know you have interesting things to say, but on another, why are you even pretending to be on par with [former Nats finalists OR PhD Art Historians]. So you stumble through, trying to just hit all the points on the outline, and hoping it isn't going as badly as you think it is. But as you look down at that outline, you think "Why did I even write that? What does that word even say?" Your outline was supposed to be a series of guideposts to jog your memory of the larger speeech you had planned in your head, but all of a sudden, the larger speech is gone, and you're trying to madly reconstruct it from scribbled shorthand.
The result was flashes of what could have been a really great speech by a clearly smart, interesting woman. But the tangents never led anywhere, and they'd just sort of fizzle out instead of getting back to the main point. There were a ton of nervous verbal tics (like, um, so...). The whole thing took an incredibly long time--she ended up throwing out the second half of her speech because 45 minutes through her 1 hour time slot, it was clear she wouldn't have time for it. The kiss of death was when, at one point, she apologized for how badly the speech was going. You never do that. I didn't get a lot out of my limited debate experience, but that's one thing I picked up right away. Never do anything to draw attention away from the points you're trying to make. Yeah, your poor speaking skills might be the elephant in the middle of the room, but if you want to have any chance at all of people remembering anything except that elephant, you. cannot. acknowledge. it.
I'm glad I went, and she definitely got me thinking, but I can't say it was good. Not bad, necessarily, just... screw it. I still have no idea.
Monday, March 10, 2008
improv
Last night was my improv class's showcase. I forgot how much of a rush it is to be in front of an audience. In class I often got nervous participating because I felt like I was nowhere near as funny as my classmates (even though they were always super supportive), but when we were all up on stage together, I finally internalized that I wasn't performing *for* them, I was performing *with* them for the big mass of faceless people in the audience. And when you have a group of people up on stage who you're looking out for, and who are looking out for you, it's energizing, not scary.
Anyway, now I need to go see the professional troupes perform. And I think I need to sign up for the next level. I was sort of wavering and thinking maybe I'd just do the 1A class again, or maybe I wouldn't take any class at all, but I like improv, and I want to get better. I think I need to keep getting pushed beyond my comfort level in order to improve, so level 1B makes the most sense.
Other random things from the showcase:
Anyway, now I need to go see the professional troupes perform. And I think I need to sign up for the next level. I was sort of wavering and thinking maybe I'd just do the 1A class again, or maybe I wouldn't take any class at all, but I like improv, and I want to get better. I think I need to keep getting pushed beyond my comfort level in order to improve, so level 1B makes the most sense.
Other random things from the showcase:
- I ran into a girl I went to high school with. She's apparently in one of the professional troupes. Random.
- My class was all going to meet up in a bar afterwards for a celebratory drink. When I lost track of my classmates after the show, I just headed over there, but the bar was closed. (Not really surprising at 10pm on a Sunday night, I guess?) That was a little disappointing.
- On my way back to my car afterwards, I got followed by a homeless guy.
- I *really* don't know my way around DC, and I got pretty lost driving home. Eventually I figured out that I could just drive from Gallery Place (where the showcase was) back to U Street (where the class was), because at least I knew how to get home from U Street. It was a bit of a circuitous route, but it worked.
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