Theatre critique from one who knows

For a while now I've felt as though I wasn't quite Mormon enough. Or rather, Mormony enough. I don't know how that's possible because I always try really hard. I CTR and RWH all over the place, but still I was lacking. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Was my cyniscm and sarcasm blocking divine flow, I wondered? Is it because my mind wanders at institute? Or that I refuse to go to scavenger hunt FHE's? There was a major cheese factor missing and I felt it acutely. Well, I am pleased to announce that I have solved the puzzle: I had not seen Wicked. Until now!

Gasp! I know.

It has taken me THIS long to FINALLY see what I'd always heard as the GREATEST PRODUCTION EVER!!!

That being said, let me now tell you what I thought...

It was okay.

Alright, it was more than okay. It was good. The singing: impressive, for the most part. The costumes: Fine. The sets: Pretty cool. The story: Rather creative. On the whole: good.

Good. Not earth-shatteringly amazing. Not really moving. Not intellectually stimulating. The two main girls did have beautiful voices. And I appreciated the story of their friendship. But did it live up to the hype that I have been hearing for the past couple years? Nope. It ain't no open-air theatre production of HMS Penafore, that's for sure.

And what sorts of things are they trying to teach the youth of America? What 's with all the feel-good, inner-beauty messages? I'm sorry - if you are green you deserve to be an outcast.

The good news is that I can FINALLY be Mormony like other kids my age, and clap along with Wicked sing-alongs in the car, and talent shows where everyone under-performs the same two Wicked songs. And spell theater theatre.

At last, I am part of the crowd.

The Summer Forecast

California summer are priceless. Mild humidity, no bugs, warm but not too hot. But lately I've been longing for something, and today it hit me: Provo summers! Okay, so I've only experienced like two. But they were great. Dry heat, thunderstorms, slacking in classes, warm nights, meteor showers, and freaking motorcycles everywhere you turn. I hated that.

I have made some summertime resolutions. Feel free to join me:

1. I am going to go to Rockin' Berry more often. It's a self-serve frozen yogurt shop, and I like it because it reminds me of Mavericks but it's cleaner. And you can put toppings on it. In fact, Rockin' Berry is so genius that many people have walked in, only to find it's buffet style, frown in confusion, complain about lack of service, and walk out again. So I fully give this place my support. I don't want to patron eateries where they serve idiots.

2. I am probably not going to see Space Chimps. Sorry. But you can go if you want.

3. I will be frequenting the candy drawer of death only once a day. ONCE. A. DAY.

4. One camp-out, at least. I know, I know. I'm not "outdoorsy." But I didn't go to all those fun-filled years of Girls Camp for nothin. Plus, it'll give me a chance to brush up on my knife work. If you know what I mean.

5. I am going to make a new friend. Actually, I already did. High five! So consider that checked.

6. I think about my unknown future 75% of my waking life. I am going to reduce that to 50%, and then go to the beach because no one thinks of their black hole future at the beach.

7. Leer at more people. I don't like to start fires, but I know when I'm being leered at. So I will throw it right back in their grimey, toothless faces and leer harder.

Good luck on your summer resolutions. I am going to rock mine!

What I really need is a stiff drink

I'm not exactly sure what is wrong with me, but my college-educated guess is that it has something to do with a mixture of the 15 pieces of candy I just inhaled, plus one hell of a cold that I have. So thank you, Tuesday night, for giving me a drain for a nose, and also to hormones for giving me a bottomless pit instead of a stomach.

I feel so gypped. I didn't even get any action out of Mr. Tuesday night. I could have let loose and had my way with him and still would have had the same outcome. So now I'm angry, which means I will sit here at work and continue to scrounge through the candy drawer. Cool.

Pass the Lexapro, Please

I was reading the news today and I found it quite disconcerting. Everything is Obama this and McCain that. DROLL. Who cares about the "threat" of Iran or the "problems" of Darfur? And what the crap is Freddy Mac and Fannie Mae? Why are we even talking about them? BOR-ing.

Hey! Humanity! When did you get to be so lame? Remember the good ole days? Like the Plague. That was eventful. Or the Bay of Pigs? WHOOPS. Why aren't we doing more cool stuff? We have the technology! Sure we raced the Russians to the moon... and then what? That was the end! SO anticlimactical. Why aren't we racing them to see who can make the biggest skating rink out of Jell-O on the North Pole? Then if we battled over it, it would have to be on ice skates, and THAT would be awesome. Like extreme hockey where everything goes.

Even the Olympics are sissy. Have you watched those races? Yeah, it's so fun watching those girly-men "run" around the track a gazillion times. Maybe they would run better if tigers were set loose on them. And maybe I could watch the pole vaulting without gauging my eyes out if they were being flung over a pit of alligators. Then those Asians on the Spike channel wouldn't have the corner market on "entertainment."

No wonder people are so depressed these days.

Mr. 152 Insights Into My Soul

Quite some time ago, my roommates and I were borderline obsessed with The Color Code. We all took the quiz, analyzed ourselves endlessly, and then forced everyone who came over to take it. And of course we would analyze (and judge) them endlessly. Remember that? Good times.

Since I am a sucker for all psychological tests, I took one that was emailed to me by a co-worker which was entertaining and shallowly gratifying. (Take it here). Then I took another quiz that SC posted on her blog. (Click here if you feel curious. I know that you are.) With all of these free diagnosese who needs to pay for therapy?

Here are today's results:


Your Existing Situation
Non-realization of hopes and the inability to decide on necessary remedial action has resulted in considerable stress.

Your Stress Sources
Feels trapped in a disagreeable situation and powerless to remedy it. Angry and disgruntled as she doubts that she will be able to achieve the goals and frustrated almost to the point of nervous prostration. Wants to get away, feel less restricted, and free to make her own decisions.

Your Restrained Characteristics
Feels that she is being compelled to conform, and close relationships leave her without any sense of emotional involvement.
Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity.

Your Desired Objective
Needs to feel identified with someone or something and wishes to win support by her charm and amiability. Sentimental and yearns for a romantic tenderness.

Your Actual Problem
Depleted vitality has created an intolerance for any further stimulation, or demands on her resources. This feeling of powerlessness subjects her to agitation and acute distress. She attempts to escape into a substitute world in which things are more nearly as she desires them to be.

Your Actual Problem #2
Seeks to avoid criticism and to prevent restriction of her freedom to act, and to decide for herself by the exercise of great personal charm in her dealings with others.


Does anyone else love the line "Able to achieve satisfaction through sexual activity?" That does pretty much sum me up. Although now that I read over this it sounds rather gloomy. So let's dismiss it. Except for the good parts.

Hoist the Colors High

While I was watching the miniseries John Adams this weekend, I got to thinking about freedom. And I wondered whether there are those who love freedom more than others. Self, I asked, where do you fall on that scale? And you know what I answered - I love it more than everyone!

But wait! You may scoff and feign offence at this idea. So let me explain why I love freedom more than you:

1. I have watched Band of Brothers like 15 times.

2. I wrote my capstone thesis on freedom and Stephen Ambrose was my only source. Well, almost.

3. I dream about America/courage/military men/freedom EVERY NIGHT.

4. I made plans with friends and then broke those plans just because I was free to do it.

5. This is the most important one: I laughed at all the grown-ups who were upset over their kid/pet being freaked out over fireworks. There were strollers and leashes and diaper bags and goldfish crackers in baggies by the dozens. Parents yelling at their kids. Kids whining to their parents. And then there was me. A singleton. Coming and going as I pleased. No kids to worry about while crossing the street. No dog to keep calm during the friday night blitz. I rode a motorcycle, stayed out late, slept in, went to the beach, went to the outlets. FREEDOM.

So I can relate, William Wallace. Let me shout it with you. FREEEEDOOMMMM!!!