All good things absolutely positively must come to an end...MAKING WAY FOR...

I have a deep adoration for spring . . .

But I'm growing impatient for the days

when I can get away with wearing THIS all day long:

Esther Williams

-esq swimsuits

AND non-flip-flop sandals

I have a a long-withstanding crush on Summer.

I never really loved dance quotes... till now.

Ryan Nielson wrote this. Maybe I wasn't supposed to stumble across this. Maybe I wasn't... but it was accidently thrown in my path and for that I am grateful.

"In dance woman expresses herself as a member of a higher community; she has forgotten how to walk and speak and is on the way toward flying, dancing into the air. Her very gestures are of enchantment…. She feels herself to be a god, going about in ecstasy, exalted, like the gods beheld in her dreams.... She is no longer an artist, she has become a work of art. In a paroxysm of intoxication the creative power of all nature has come to light in her as the highest rapture of the one that is All. Nature, with its true voice undissembled cries out to us: "Be as I am! I, the primordial ever-creating mother amidst the ceaseless flux of appearances, ever impelling into existence, eternally finding in these transformations satisfaction." (Friedrich Nietzsche)"

 

 

As You Like It

I r­emember so little from my high school  (go Miners!) theater days.  What I do remember from that experience seems to be the equivalent to a short, yet entertaining (in the same way your parents’ gritty and embarrassing wedding video is entertaining), montage full of lots of teeth showing and bad renditions of “In My Own Little Corner”, flavored with the usual clichéd painting of sets and the giddy trying on of costumes and funny feathered hats, while ignoring the very obviously placed couple making out everywhere. Ah, the memories…  But there actually was something that I rather inconveniently forgot.  This something was my deep and never-ending love for the Shakespearian play “As You Like It”.  As I recently sat inside that little square, which is Hale Center Theater, the memories all came rushing back to me.  But before that rush or nostalgia, I sat in wonderment as the characters Celia and Rosalind frivolously bantered back and forth about a boy, and then as the snooty Phebe waxed nostalgic over the beauty of the youth she had just fallen in love with.  I knew these lines.  I just sat and said them in my head, word for word, as the lines were being given.   How startled was I over this occurrence!  But after that initial shock, I remembered.  In high school, for every classical scene or monologue I had to do for class, ­I would directly go to my old standard of “As You Like It”.  I really felt some kind of draw towards the playfulness and actual humanity I felt when reading into the characters.  It was always ­my choice and most favored of the Bard’s tales, and I am happy to rediscover just what drew me to it in the first place.

Which is why I might be a little biased towards this play.  Even though I had dragged my feet to get to ­that play, sat by myself next to an unfriendly elderly couple, and then didn’t have enough cash to fund my m&m’s craving, I had the most fun at a play as I have ever had.  As I sat and watched this play­, precariously edged between the silent giggling to a rather embarrassing ­full on eye’s-watering-rolling-in-the-aisles laughter, I completely felt the magic inside­ experiencing brilliant theater­.  It all seemed to come together perfectly for this production, from the details in the costuming, which fit each character’s personality to a tea, as well as nodded the correct nods to the time period portrayed, to the innovative use of the small square theatrical space.  I could breathe my praises to this attention to detail acting.

I would like to shake the hand at whoever brought this cast together.  Not only did the actors act with such profound strength and emotion befitting to_­ their characters, but also they really were able to mold and fold­­­ their lines­ around their tongues and mouths, as if they were born speaking Shakespearian English­.  This cast spoke to each other as if they were their characters having this very conversation, making the speech easy to understand and follow.  They spoke to each other rather than speaking at each other, which is a mistake on all accounts.  They had and used their stage chemistry, which is something I have not been able to witness in a good long while.  As a dancer, I was especially pleased to find that this cast wasn’t afraid to really move.  They utilized their bodies in ways to more fully convey their characters.  Plus, when isn’t throwing oneself to the floor simply just the most amusing and satisfying thing to do?  I certainly enjoyed their willingness to roll, shimmy, and dance around a bit, and I’m pretty sure this cast enjoyed is as well.

All in all, I’m pretty sure that I would enjoy seeing­ this production again and again, even if there is a possibility of again being dragged on stage to do that ridiculous springtime dance or whatever that silliness was really called.  This play was a delight and something I would not hesitate to shamelessly plug.  Or even to call up one of my girl friends about after the performance, to ask why she isn’t already madly in love with Alex Ungerman…I mean, who wouldn­’t be in love with him­ after seeing this play? I­’m pretty sure that now I am.  Maybe I will go back and see this play again.

A Very Simple Explanation for all this Madness

I really have a problem with “funny”. Today, “funny” has turned into “how randomly perverse can I be, in smallest syllables possible, all the while incorporating slapstick on the level of hit-the-groin with baseball bat?” Now, no one loves well-placed innuendo like I love well-placed innuendo (obviously the keyword here is well-placed), but I’m starting to hate/loathe/despise the predictable thoughtlessness placed in being oh so very “funny”. It’s not just the stupidity of the whom, what, and where that is getting is considered to be “funny”. It’s also that everyone, yes EVERYONE, as self-proclaimed riots, has jumped aboard the funny train. In my experience, people who tend to think that they, personally, are slap the knees hilarious; tend to be talent-less blowhards, tools, and hacks. So, humor continues to be dumb-ed down and dumb-ed down again and again, making humor unintelligent enough that even the most base forms of life (algae, cancer, certain types of mold) can find their new favorite loud perverse comedian to talk about to their other base life form friends after a round or two of conversation concerning their pet political topics (OMG. Global warming is totally, like, so not real...) and their new mall find of ‘affliction’ tee’s and wicker cowboy hats. I have started to really hate “funny”.

Fortunately for me, “A Very Simple Explanation for all this Madness”, written by Devon James Hoffman and directed by Patrick C. Kibbie, was actually funny. Westminster College’s theatre (yes, THEATRE and not theater) society put on this shindig on April 9-11, and I had the lucky chance to run across the chance to experience it. This play was seriously a riot, without the blowhards, hacks and tools of the normal self-proclaimed “riotously absurd”. The play started out on a high, which means of course, a very physical battle between sleepy/clumsy man and chair, in which, of course, the men dies (how else could this play start?). To be sure, the following insanity that followed only escalated that initial high more and more, making this play continuously divine.

This play had bluntness to the intent, which, as it turns out, was very political. Each character in “A Very Simple Explanation…” was loosely yet very apparently based on an un-named, but completely obvious, presidential administration (ahem…Bush…ahem…). The intent was to portray the absurdity of going to war for no good reason and how we mostly just sit back and watch these many uninformed decisions being made.


The very minimalist set was a perfect, just the deadly chair and a couple of props. This gave the actors space to really move around and fill out that extra space with their personality and physicality. My favorite character, and not just because of personal crushes on certain actors, his magnificent mustache, or because of my (completely ludicrous and unfounded) Freudian daddy-esq issues, was Reginald. I felt that the physicality that the actor used in his portrayal of his character really gave him a leg up and over the rest of the cast on stage. Which is actually saying quite a lot about this actor’s commitment to his character, because the entire cast had also seemingly found quite a lot of depth to their committal to their individual portrayals of their characters.

So, there is some hope in this world for comedy. I wish more people I know could have had a chance to have seen this play, mostly so I wouldn’t have had to attend all by my lonesome, but also so they too could see that there is such thing as actual comedy. Funny doesn’t have to have quotation marks around it all the time, and I can stop the cynicism from time to time and just enjoy myself. God bless talent, right?

(Awesome Photos by Mike Manning)

Max just might be the death of me.

I have been dog-sitting Max Powers since my beautiful friend Jessica P. left for vacation.


And although I'm pretty sure that Max has a death wish for me
(whole other long winded whiny story)...

I'm pretty sure that Max just might now love me more than
Miss Jessica P.


Sorry Jess.

Ughhhhh

Let's talk physical afflictions.

Anyone wanna complain to me now, so that when I get on the phone with you later you won't be bugged that I'm whining about my light-induced migraine?

Anyone?

Don't say i didn't give you a chance here.

Banana Cream Pie Milkshakes

Cute-Boyfriend was a dear, and picked me up some sustenance from the little hamburger joint (I unwittingly called it a diner... Cute-Boyfriend was quick to correct me... gee... thanks Cute-Boyfriend) below Blufrog, where I was putting in a billion hours of work.

Can I just confess something deep and full of hopeful longing?

I really really really really really really really really really

long for another banana cream pie milkshake.

I think that this love that I'm feeling really might be the real deal.

Oh, my darling Banana Cream Milkshake...

how I long to have you at my side again, filling my life with

your creamy banana-y pie-y goodness and beauty.

Oh, how I long to see the cute little Sammy's employees

stuff an entire slice of pie into the blender.

Oh, how I long to get pieces of crust stuck in my straw...

not inconveniently... just delicately and delightfully.

So... anyways...

the moral of THIS story is that I love love love this joint. If you ever get down to Provo, UT, and need to put something inside of your belly other then gas station nachos (MEREDITH) and those orange fruit snack things (EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT LIVES AT MY HOUSE), I highly suggest you pull a cute-boyfriend move, and fill up on sweet potato fries and a milkshake made with real slices of pie...

Visit Sammy's and fall the way I fall every time.

Sammy's