judging...judgment...judge

well, my first day of judging the middle school one-act plays is done. it was a fun day. i saw some good plays. watching 12 year-olds do drama and comedy onstage is really one of the finer things in life. it's something no one should miss out on, kind of like having a kitten. not giving birth to a kitten, but buying or acquiring one and watching it bound about.

my only regret about today, which is really something i have no control over, is that a friend of mine who is one of the directors wasn't given an award for his play, and i'm afraid it will damage our friendship. i felt that his play was lacking in its ability to let the characters interact truthfully and therefore to achieve an emotional impact. yes, we're talking about 12 year-olds and i took that into consideration. and there were so many things in the play that were great (i did give his play the 'best actor' award as well as two other acting awards), but there were other plays that achieved better results, and i had to stay true to my feeling on that. during my comments this friend of mine's face was quite stony. all i can do is hope that he will come around and be my friend again, despite my severe judgment of his work.

tomorrow i will see six more plays.

it is fun seeing them. the aspect of 'judging' is, after all, kind of gross and i don't like the way it makes me feel. ideally, in the future, i would like to be a 'clinic' judge instead, so that i don't have to choose winners and losers but can still see the plays and comment on them. that would suit me much better.

the judge

taking walks has always been nice. but these days it is more fun than ever.

this weekend i will be judging the middle school one-act play contest. i will see 13 40-minute plays and then decide who should get awards. the competition aspect of this event is both good and bad. on the good side, competition puts something very tangible at stake for the performers, causing their energy to rise and unite, under ideal circumstances. on the bad side, it is absurd to compete with plays because doing theatre isn't a competitive sport. it's too subjective for that. kinda like the oscars. so much is ignored, so much is overplayed, in the end it's just a big mess of pretend.

but i'm doing it. i participated in these contests as a student and as a teacher, so i'm 'qualified' to judge. right now it seems ridiculous. but it will be fun when it happens. i'm reading the plays now, preparing to see them on friday and saturday. 

there is an exhibit by czech theatre artist jaroslav malina at the mcnay museum. i will probably go today.

i'm gonna eat you up!

i know i already said this, but i'm saying it again...

the other night i walked to rehearsal at san pedro playhouse (i'm in beginning stages of rehearsal for a play called TAKE ME OUT, which is about a baseball player who comes out of the closet... i play his smitten business manager) and god i was so happy to be walking... there was a slight drizzle, and the houses were so amazing. looking at houses is deeply satisfying to me suddenly... wondering about the inhabitants, yes, but mostly just appreciating the architecture and thinking about the concept of human shelter and its accoutrements. sometimes i really want to eat the houses. consume them. you know, like how when you love a person or a pet and you just want to eat them up? like that. 

the title of this entry is what my grandmother used to say. but not in a scary way.

quarters overflowing in glove box

breaking old habits.

i'm still saving quarters in an altoids tin in my car, even though i now have a washer/dryer at my house.

i still save napkins, a habit i learned in russia because sometimes at people's houses they'd have newspaper squares for toilet paper.

i sleep better in my own bed.

i wash all my clothes together in hot water.

yesterday i rinsed out a toilet brush in the bathroom sink. david freaked out. i hadn't thought about it. i will never do it again.

valentine was a dick

are there things you think of, things you've done, that make you want to not live anymore?

i don't mean that you would kill yourself. but in the moment that you think about those things maybe you just wish that you could disappear from the earth, at least for a week or two.

everybody has those things. but i have an obsessive personality when it comes to personal mistakes: i flog myself for things i have done & said, things no one else even cares about anymore, if ever.

like telling robert tebbenkamp he needed to give his heart to jesus.

having my pants down when craig came back inside with the mail.

walking in on jean-jean's elderly mother when she was stepping out of the shower.

telling one friend another friend said he hated him, in front of all the friends concerned.

cramming a cream pie into shad willingham's face and nostrils.

hiding under the table while gannie searched for me frantically around her house.

just a two-week disappearance period. to clean the karma slate, penance, thoughtful reflection, time out, time alone.

thank god, and thank you charles darwin, whose 200th birthday (along with lincoln's, and wasn't obama's speech fantastic?) was this week, for evolution. thank god, the evolving god within the evolving me, for evolution. even though i have many of the same problems, issues and hang-ups i had 20 years ago, the last twenty years, this half-life, have brought me steps closer to enlightenment. 

my boyfriend is valentining it up. yesterday he made these sumptuous liquor-infused dark chocolate truffles, rolled in cocoa powder, with strawberry sauce. now he's in the kitchen fixing dinner. all i know is that salmon (one of my favorite things to eat) is involved. it is very exciting indeed.

though i appreciate the fact that this year i have an actual boyfriend on valentine's day (i don't remember the last time this happened), i send out my love today to those who don't have partners. i send out a wish that they will evolve one step toward understanding that they, themselves, without accompaniment, are damn good company.

screw st. valentine.

low ebb

i hear the chimes tinkling so sweetly outside my window.

at night i look at the graffiti wall across the street, while i'm smoking, and i see faces. during the day i look for the same faces and can't find them.

i sit there and think i should draw this.

i never do.

at least not yet.

my cat looks out this window all the time. it's like her TV.

i'm going to read.

you give me fever

the weather here has been beyond beautiful. cool in the mornings and evenings, warming up a little during the day. like truckee summers.

i have gained a new fondness for looking at houses. maybe it started when david and i were looking for a house to move into. as i take walks i look at houses. they tend to fascinate me. the living spaces of humans. garages and tiny walkways. patios and verandas. places where humans dwell, built in proportion to the human body. some of them have fallen into disrepair, or were never given much consideration. others appear to have been snatched from hollywood in 1947. some don't fit on their streets, but their presence on their streets enhances the streets they're on. i want to take pictures of the houses and draw them. the houses are precious, put a lump in my throat. the houses have been through a lot. sidewalks, too. i had an idea... but no, i'll keep the idea to myself until i try it out.

i got new glasses. they're small.

at last-- the keith haring pictures in the corner of my dining room decided to stay up on the wall, thanks in part to the scotch brand sticky squares i finally attached them with. there are 12 of them. i salvaged them from my old keith haring calendar book from 1998.