Procrastination and Estrogen…the two evils of Saturday.

What should I be doing right?  Not blogging is the simplest answer.  But since I have this proclivity for procrastination right now, I figured I’d put in a spot for your pleasure.  I should be crunching some numbers and doing some translating, but alas, this seems more fun at the moment.

On a completely random note, I was setting up my desk in my room because Jason’s sister is here for a few weeks (after coming back from a month in Ghana!) and I needed my workstation.  So in moving my desk (which used to be a sewing machine table) the flap that had been previously glued came Unglued.  Normally this might seem like something bad, but it opened up a compartment in which the sewing machine used to sit.  And BINGO my space issues where solved!  I put my computer INSIDE the desk, and can use the display and keyboard on the desk…perfection!  Now if I could only get myself to use it for the purpose for which I originally moved it in here.

As many of you probably already know, I was recently cast in Il Trovatore with Taconic Opera.  This makes me extremely happy!  I could not have asked for a more perfect role.  Here is a synopsis…

There is an old gypsy.  That’s me.  Her mother was burned at the stake by the Count.  Baaaad count.  Old Gypsy Azucena (me) is pissed.  So I steal the Count’s baby brother intending to throw him in the fire like he did my mom.  Well, I went a bit nutzo and accidentally threw my own son in the fire.  Oooopsy!  So I raise the Count’s son as my own…codename Manrico.  Manrico is all growed up now, and he and the Count have numerous run-ins, but for some reason, Manrico couldn’t kill the Count.  He had the opportunity, but “some mysterious force” (aka estrogen) prevented him from doing it.  This makes me mad and I yell at him for about four minutes.  Manrico falls in love with Leonora, whom the Count also loves.  She loves Manrico and they plan to run off together.  However, I go stumbling into the camp of the count’s men and they arrest me, question me, decide that I’m the one who killed the count’s brother, and sentence me to death.  Then Manrico tries to come rescue me and ends up in jail with me (estrogen?) and Leonora decides to give herself to the count to save Manrico’s life.  I’m still gonna burn though.  Then Leonora decides to be a bit melodramatic and takes some poison so that she will die instead of having to live with the count.  She uses time-release poison so that she has time to tell Manrico he’s free, for him to get mad at her and curse her for giving herself to the count, for him to realize that she is dying, and for them to sing a few minutes of an ‘I love you, goodbye” duet.  Then she croaks.  The count has by this point been listening in and realizes he’s been duped.  So he drags Manrico out to be killed immediately.  The count drags me to the window to watch, I tell him “haha, the jokes on you…that was your brother”.  The count shrieks in agony (estrogen?) and I’m like “Gotcha!!” on a high note.  The end.

So that is upcoming in October.  Right now my ass is busy translating, learning, listening, thinking, living, breathing Verdi.  So get your butts to NY to see it.

Summer sickness…is this 1575?

After reading an onslaught of Elizabethan historical fiction, I have started to wonder if we’ve really progressed all that further in the world of modern medicine.  As those of you whom have read works set in this time period, you no doubt have noticed that invariably every summer the entire court packs up and leaves the city to avoid things such as the plague, sweating sickness, dead dogs, and other standard conventions of summer life in the city.  Although the journey was always cumbersome and arduous (Lord have mercy I MUST bring along my entire bedroom set, my dad’s desk, and my La-Z-boy recliner–made out of the finest horsehair) the entire court faithfully packed it up and moved out.

Stricken with what those around me are calling a “summer cold” I am inclined to think that not only did these Elizabethans know what’s up, but that we have regressed by progressing.  What do I mean?  Well, with all the modern conveniences of today’s technology and comforts, we have tricked ourselves into thinking that it’s fine and dandy to remain in a rat infested, garbage strewn, sticky oven-like hotbox known as Manhattan in July.  Sure, jack up the AC to 67 degrees and run home as fast as you can to get inside and stay cool…for what?  We still have to exit into the cruel baking streets, dodge the spewing fire hydrants and ripening hobos, and rush to the underground tubes to cart our asses around the city.  Underground.  Like rats.  Sure, the cars might (and i mean MIGHT) be air conditioned, but you still have to descend into the station and wait on the sweltering platform in hopes that the train will come and that it will not be so packed with sweaty bodies that you might actually escape the choking heat of the underground.  And here i thought it was supposed to remain a balmy 54 degrees underground.  LIES!

Now add on top of that a week of oppressive humidity and near 100 degree daily highs.  Well, i don’t know about you, but with my mold allergies, the decks were stacked against me.  So now I get to descend into the hellish heat with a stuffed head, sinus pressure, raw nose, lack of sleep, and general mauvaise humeur.  And I already hate everyone in the summer when i’m in good health.

Well, this further solidifies my desire to pack up my apartment and move to somewhere that I can breathe deeply and not worry about ingesting the odors of Julie the crack whore stumbling toward me for change.  Until that happens, however, I’m staying inside…on my La-Z-Boy.

Skin jobs…

Only those of you who have actually bothered to watch my beloved Battlestar Galactica will get the title (or bladerunner).  But no, I’m not a Cylon.  I’m the president.

I’ve decided to seek a more radical treatment for my psoriasis.  I was hell bent on getting on a course of Enbrel (so what if it gives you Lymphoma?) and so I marched into the doctor feeling all excited and decided, and she so quickly shot me down.  She wants to try light therapy.  I was crushed.  I had been hemming and hawing for MONTHS about whether or not I wanted to do a systemic treatment with all the side effects, etc, and had made up my mind to do it, and her answer was “nope, go stand in front of a light bulb”.  I was NOT HAPPY.  In fact, i was ready to burst into tears at every moment.  She saw the obvious devastation and said well, it looks like you’ve decided that’s what you want to do, so we can do that.  BINGO!  Except that I wanted her to be excited about it for me, and she wasn’t.  Plus I needed to get some blood work done, and find my TB immunization records, so I had some time to mull it over.

After doing some research and letting the rational thoughts start to creep in (not to mention talking about it to everyone around me who would listen, and some who were forced to listen), it was obvious that light therapy was the correct choice.  This is a specific, narrow band of UVB light that targets inflammation.  It’s for only four or five minutes a session.  The results?  From a couple things I’ve read, it can have permanent, or very long lasting remission and no side effects.  The problem?  I have to go three times a week for two months, and then taper off.  that’s a long time!

So again, I marched to the Doctor’s office today all decided and excited again to find out that she is not even there today!  The appointment I had was for a nurse to draw blood and the receptionist didn’t bother to let me in on that little secret.  I wouldn’t have wasted their time!  There was no point in doing the blood work if in two months I have to do it again (if i were to consider Enbrel again).  I would have totally canceled my appt.  EEEEEEEnoying.  Their suggestion was to send the doctor an email.  I hope she responds immediately or i might kill her.  not really.

and I have ANOTHER stupid cold.  for reals, who the hell gets a cold in the summer?  I fully blame the week of 100% humidity and 98 degrees going in and out of AC.  I’m allergic to Mold, and I believe that everything was covered in mold at all times because I feel like dookey.

speaking of which, it’s time for me to go to bed!

Okay, okay, okay….

I know, it’s been awhile since last I tickled my keyboard at least as far as this blog is concerned. I’ve had an extremely busy summer so far– I’ve managed to find a practice space that is right down the street from my job, and it has been my daily sanctuary. I can’t believe how much it actually affects my mood! Not to mention that I’m actually singing really well after practicing every day…who knew? It’s kinda funny because the practice space is at a music school for children so there are tots running around screaming at all times, and they felt the need to stick me in the farthest room away from everyone because I’m so loud. So I make sure that I practice all of my screamy arias every day .

Work has also been very busy, though things seem to be going tolerably well for the moment so we will leave that lie.

In other news, I have managed to find myself the owner of a brand spankin’ new La-Z-Boy recliner. Yes, that’s right, a full-on kick your heels up experience shrouded in brown leather. It will be delivered on Saturday! And lest I forget to mention, Oliver is now also the proud owner of his own La-Z-boy recliner. We will be playing dueling games of who can get their feet up faster. I’m totally gonna win because I won’t ever leave my chair! Now most of you who have seen my apartment might be thinking to yourself “now where in the world are they going to put TWO chairs?”…well, never you worry your pretty little heads about it…we have NO FRICKIN’ CLUE! I think it’s going to involve radical rearranging and perhaps some downsizing. the neighbors have already benefited from me cleaning out the VCR tapes. who has a VCR anymore? Who knows what’s going to find itself in the hallway.

Anyone wanna come over and watch us sit in our chairs?

Blog blight

I wonder why I am finding it increasingly difficult to find the time to blog as of late. It’s not that I’m so incredibly busy at the moment, and maybe it’s the awful heat wave that has made me sluggish and uninspired, or maybe that in comparison to the beauty of my recent vacation all pales, but in any event, I am forcing myself to write. I feel it necessary to at least throw my loyal readers a bone now and then, even if it is meaningless drivel.

Apparently, blogging is the ONLY way that my long lost now Californian brother will communicate. Annoying. They are totally having fun without me out there and I RESENT IT!! Clearly, I’m just jealous.

In other news, my sister is getting her master’s in social work. Cool news! We will henceforth refer to her as SOCIAL MASTER 2008. Soon she’ll be able to tell us all how we are doing it wrong. Up until now, that responsibility has fallen solely on my shoulders. Phew, glad to have the help!

And if anyone can tell me WHY, DEAR GOD WHY it is so frickin’ hot in the middle of June, I would gladly appreciate it. It’s wrong, just wrong.

Are you gonna eat that?

Well, the day ended with the copy machine looking mostly dry and I hope it will be in good working condition tomorrow morning.  In the meantime, I duct-taped a fan to the front so that it can dry out all the way overnight.  I really really really hate having my office in the basement .

I’m currently reading I, Elizabeth.  No idea who wrote it (well, okay, I just looked it up and it’s Rosalind Miles), but I’m enjoying it immensely–except for the fact that large passages are written in italics.  Now, maybe this doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for me, the voice in my head that reads italics is an ominous throaty whisper, which in all truth is quite distracting whilst trying to read on the subway.   Especially for four pages at a time.  Let’s just say I’m glad it’s not bold or in CAPS.  I can’t even begin to imagine that nightmare.  But the saga of the Tudors is always compelling and completely ridiculous.  Love it.

I recently watched a fairly disturbing and most definitely disgusting film…Ravenous.  Have you heard of it?  Well, let me spare you the gore with my short synopsis…Setting: Mexican American War.
Cowardly soldier mistakenly given medal of honor for running, playing dead, and being stacked under dead bodies for a day while his commander’s corpse dripped blood in his mouth.  Now he’s disturbed.  Another Not-Dead commander decides he’s a putz and sends him to remote California.  (now this is NOT the California I have currently come to know and love)  It’s a remote snowy camp with a couple of Native Americans thrown in for drama and gravity.  He’s a little twitchy in his new surroundings.  And that twitchy guy from LOST is there too.  Then holy Crap!!  A Stranger stumbles half dead into camp.  Stranger relays tale of Donner-like sergeant who’s eaten everyone except one chick.  They all go to save said chick who we all know is totally dead.  By this point it was a little boring watching them all sit around in their long johns, so I welcomed the action.  Well surprise, Half dead Stranger is the sergeant (why is that word spelled like that?  it’s stupid.) and kills everyone except the first cowardly soldier who falls in a hole, breaks his leg (we’re talking bone stickin’ out compound fracture that one would instantly die from infection in those days) and has to eat the guy lying dead next to him cuz he’s been in that hole a LONG time.  Well, now we get to the interesting part.  Turns out that eating people not only turns you into a Wendigo but gives you their strength as well.  Sort of a vampiric canabalistic romp.  Or just gross.  And at the end, everybody dies except for the Native American chick.  Cuz she’s smart and leaves when people start dying.  Best line “If you die first, I’m totally going to eat you.”

Water boarding and other forms of office torture.

Today I hate the world, which includes my office. I hate ceilings that rain twenty gallons of water onto a brand new $20K machine. I hate screwdrivers. I hate a mini-box fan that’s not worth box it came in. I hate that I’m the one that has to painstaking suck the water out of said machine. I hate that I have no fax. I hate that I can’t print. I hate that I have a $20K machine lying on its side trying to drain whilst useless box fan blows on it like an asthmatic grandmother.

Why didn’t I just stay in bed?

umm, yeah, i’m busy!

Okay, so David might be blogging the pants off of me right now, but he has more to write about at the moment.  I mean, I’m not the one who quit my job, decided to move to California, and robotize my cat.  But whatevs.

Truly where my attentions have lain as of late is getting my life organized so I can have a wonderful, peaceful, and un-work-related vacation.  If I bust my butt enough now, the probability of getting a phone call next week whilst basking in the sun or picking raspberries will be greatly diminished.  This is my goal.

In the meantime, I’ve sent my staff one MILLION detailed step by step instructions on how to survive without their leader.  Okay, so maybe I’m not their leader, but I definitely like to tell people what to do.  Hopefully they will follow instructions!

On a side note, we have decided to start recycling here at my place of employment.  Isn’t that just wonderful?  (please say this in your head with a dry sarcastic tone verging on sardonic)  Well, actually it is.  In theory.  I took the time to make wonderful recycling related signs so that NO ONE should become confused when coming upon the decision to choose the blue or black bagged receptacles for one’s refuse.  This is clearly not the case.  I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit fishing in the garbage and recycling cans alike trying to get them to put things in the correct bin.  Apparently this is harder than it looks.  I hope they figure it out.  It’s sad, really.

So that is what I’ve been up to.  Aside from an hour of arts and crafts time with my laminater and glue-stick (yeah, really) I have been slugging away trying to imagine every possible scenario that might arise in my absence, craft a solution, send an email, and organize necessary materials.  This is not only annoying, but time consuming and energy-zapping.  However, I believe, oh yes, I believe deep down in my heart that this will prevent them from calling me.  I think I will forget my phone.

Update. Whammy’s.

Well, apparently the winds of change blew out my candle, because Millionaire has denied me!  Although I passed the test (about 50% DIDN’T!) the bored production assistant absolutely did not care about anything I was saying to her.  In fact, I don’t think she was even paying attention to me in the least.  What a waste of an hour of my life!  And all I got was this stupid magnet…

But no, I’m not bitter…well, maybe a bit dejected.  And damn it, I wanted that million dollars!

Big Wheel Keep on Turnin’…no Whammy’s!

The winds of change are blowin’ blowin’ blowin’ upon us. Can you hear the whistle? Most of you reading this have heard me talking of this for the past few months. “Shut it!” might be your reaction. But you might just be a little entertained if you stick it out.

Recently, a question was posed to me…”Who wants to be a millionaire?” And the answer is, I, I want to be a millionaire! So my dear friend Laura decided to sign me up for the game show audition. This very afternoon I will be quizzed, interviewed, poked, prodded, and analyzed to see if I am worthy of the might television gameshow. Don’t get too excited though…after all that, they are just determining if you are worthy to be thrown into a huge lottery of possible contestants randomly drawn from a secret bowl of names. I’m not sure what the odds are that I would actually be chosen but I am sure it’s pretty slim. But all the same, who wants to be my lifeline?

In all seriousness, thinking about who I would call to be my lifeline has sparked some interesting thought about my friends and family. Do I call my Aunt who was once a contestant on Jeopardy and probably knows everything? Do I call on Laura and Graham, who between the two of them not only know every lyric to every song ever written (no tunes, though!) and I would venture to bet every fact of popular culture since 1975? Do I call on my brother with his encyclopedic knowledge of airbags and grammar? And let us not forget the three sisters mine who can make you a can of paint, help you save your mortgage, and create a solution for your sewer issues. Or what about that poet friend of mine that after reading his new book made me realize that he has to be sitting on a shitload of brains and cleverness. It remains a conundrum which is not likely to be decided soon, but in all fairness, most likely will not come up!

So, I bid you, wish me luck this afternoon. I take my leave to fill out the questionnaire…”what makes you unique?” …my fingerprint? “How would winning 1 Million Dollars change your life?” Are you frickin’ kidding me? Aside from needed a bigger wallet…Oh, and my favorite “If you could vote yourself as best-_____ or most-likely-to_____, what would be your vote?” I would say most likely to vote for a democrat.