2007: Year in Review (and a glance ahead)

The biggest headlines are from my personal life: I got engaged, and I moved from Washington, D.C. to Chicago. But 2007 was decent for me as a playwright as well.

My play "A Skewed Nude" was presented at The Great Plains Theatre Conference, which I attended. It was my first playwriting conference. "Nude" also won the award for best unpublished script at the Maryland Community Theatre Festival in January. (The play previous won at the 2004 Pittsburgh New Works Festival.) The publicity from the Maryland conference resulted in a subsequent performance by the Newtowne Players in Leonardstown, Md. That production is significant in that it was the first time I was unable to attend a production of one of my plays. I also missed a production of a few of my monologues that were performed as a part of "Practice Monologamy" at Carlow College in Pittsburgh in March.

A few new pieces premiered this year. My full-length "Necromony, USA" premiered at Duquesne University (Pittsburgh) in February. My one-act "Claire's Departure" premiered at the Pittsburgh New Works Festival in September. "Typist," another full-length, had a reading at Pittsburgh Playwright's Theatre in March and was a semi-finalist in several competitions (always a bridesmaid never a full production?).

Note that most of my playwriting successes were early in the year before I got distracted by adjusting to a new city and planning a wedding.

Speaking of weddings, we attended four this year: two in Pittsburgh, one in D.C., and one in Connecticut.

Moving to Chicago gave me the opportunity to reconnect with friends with whom I grown apart or completely lost touch. Of course, these are likely trade offs for people in D.C. I'm already losing track of, but it's still nice to get back together with good people from my past. And Chicago, as expected, has brought wonderful new people into my life as well. I think I'm going to like it here.

So what excitement lies ahead in 2008? Much of that remains to be seen. Most notably I'm getting married. As for theatre, this is the first year since I started seriously writing in 2003 that I have not had at least one production lined up before the year began. That's to be suspected since I didn't do a lot of writing or submitting in the latter part of 2007. Still, it's a bit scary. I'll have a few monologues in a benefit planned for May, which I am excited about, but it still doesn't feel as significant as full play or even a one-act. Hopefully, though I can get a few things going in the next 12 months. Only time will tell.

Regardless, I am excited for the prospects and opportunities of this new year.

Ex does not have to mean ex-friend

Some people think it's strange, but I'm close friends with a number of my ex-boyfriends. Moreso, two of my closest girlfriends are the ex-wife of one of my ex-boyfriends and the future wife of another ex-boyfriend. (Did you follow that?) A friend of the latter couple, when finding out that I, the ex-girlfriend, was friends with the current fiance told my ex that he couldn't have that. Granted the friend was quite drunk, but sober folks have expressed similar amazement at these situations. Didn't they watch "Friends?" Apparently, hanging out with exes and their currents is supposed to be the stuff of sitcoms and soap operas. Decent people aren't supposed to do that in real life.

I guess the implied acceptable act is to cut off all ties from anyone with whom you were once seriously involved and anyone with whom that person may currently be involved. That, however, seems like quite a waste of good people.

If I dated someone (particularly if I dated them for a long enough period of time that the relationship can't be blamed on a superficial infatuation), we must have enjoyed each other's company. We must have had things in common. Why do we have to give all that up just because we aren't each other's soulmates.

Now, that's not to say that the day after a break-up is a good day to go out for coffee. I've tried to force healing too soon. It is difficult and usually becomes unpleasant. But as they say, "time heals all wounds." Most of them anyway. With due time, we can be grown ups and admit that we still like each other even if we no longer like-like each other. It helps, too, if both have moved on to other relationships. That way there is less chance that someone is wondering "what if?" or that someone is wondering if the other person is wondering "what if?"

Insular situations like college or theatre or college theatre often result in the recycling of who dates whom. Much like on sitcoms. Those of us who are in those sorts of situations understand, and this stuff doesn't feel like a big deal. It happened. It's over. We've moved on. Others find this strange. I remember being at the bar after a show with a guy I was dating who was not a theatre person. Picking up on conversational clues he asked me how many of the guys there I had dated. There were about 20 people gathered in the back room of the bar. I believe my answer was 7. Certainly some of those were 1 or 2 dates and others were relationships of a year or more, but the answer was 7.

I sometimes wish that I didn't have the romantic history with some of these guys, just to make our friendship less of an oddity. I do not ever regret being friends with them. I do, however, wonder sometimes about those with whom I have lost touch. Not pining for them. Just wondering how they are doing. They are good guys.

My fiance admits that he is sometimes a bit weirded out when meeting my exes, but he is friends with the one he has gotten to know best (solely based on proximity). Okay, I admit it sometimes weirds me out. It's weird to have that much history with people. But I wouldn't give it up. True friends are worth any awkwardness.

We're all going to die, but some will die sooner than others.

My parents' dog is going to die. Of course I've known this was an eventuality, but with this visit the actuality is much more real. Po is 13 years old. She is gray and slow and has trouble breathing. I hope she holds out for as long as she can, but my parents' dog is going to die.

We never had a dog growing up. My parents' felt that with their jobs they couldn't properly care for one. My parents eventually got Po after I was grown and out of the house. As a result, I usually only got to see her once or twice a year. If she were to die, I wouldn't feel much personal loss. But I worry about my parents. They are both retired, and although they both do theatre and have other active hobbies, Po is a huge focus of their lives. I don't know how they will handle it when she is gone. Would they get another dog? If so, how soon? I'm not worried about the dog as much as I am about my parents.

My parents are going to die. Not for a long while, I hope, but they will. They are getting to ages where that begins to show. My dad's recent heart and eye surgery, my mom's back problems: these are reminders that they won't always be around. How will I react? I don't know.

My grandparents are still alive (3 of them). We saw my mom's side this week. He is 90. She is 88. Oddly enough I don't think of their mortality as much as that of my parents or even the dog. My grandparents have always been old, at least for as long as I've known them. The changes in them seem less significant than those in my parents or the dog. They still live on their own in the house I remember from when I was a kid. They still have martinis everyday at 5 o'clock. But I can't ignore the fact that they are slowing down. I realize that although they may live to see me give them a great grandchild they won't live long enough for that child to really know them.

But the first to go will likely be my parent's dog. I looked her in the eye on Christmas and told her to hold on for them. But she can only hold on for so long. My parents' dog is going to die. It will very sad.

Sympathy Ham

A friend's mom passed away this morning. So I sent him a ham. I almost didn't because I thought that sending a ham when someone's mother has died is ridiculous. But I decided that I should do it because it is ridiculous. I hope he sees it that way.

I am most comfortable expressing my feelings with food. Even words are not my friends when it comes to sincere emotion. I work better in fiction, which may be based on reality but is not as raw or scary to me. So I show people I care about them by feeding them. I always have. If I cook for you, I definitely care. If I were in Pittsburgh right now, I would cook up a batch of something and bring it to my friend's house. Being so far away is frustrating. I feel like I can't do anything. A sympathy card and a bunch of flowers don't feel like enough. So I sent him a large ham.

It's a large ham. My intent is not for him to eat it all himself. I even stated this outright in my note to him. Please don't eat the entire large ham yourself. My intent is for him to use the ham as an excuse to be around people who care for him. He should invite them over to partake of this large ham that Kim Z sent him because she is ridiculous. If he doesn't feel like hosting he should drag his large ham to one of our friends' houses and make them eat it with him. I wish I could be there to share the ham.

Every year this friend throws a New Year's party. Everyone has to bring a bottle of champagne (or whatever sparkling swill is on sale). At midnight we toast people who have died during the year. You can get lists from the Internet. People also interject losses from their own life. I don't know if he will still have a party this year, or if someone will have a similar party in its place. If they do, I'm sure there will be a lot of champagne and a lot of tears and not for Ike Turner or Evel Knievel or Anna Nicole Smith. They don't even get hams.

Covered

A third monologue for Womenscene, an evening of original works about women (Pittsburgh, May 2008):
REVISED: December 18th, 2007

A man addresses the audience.

You’ve seen those women in the Middle East. The ones in their chadors and hijabs and burkas? American women hate that. They say it's oppressive. Sure. If I were a woman I wouldn't want to have to be all covered up all the time. Particularly if I lived in a desert. But I understand why the men make them do that. I'm not saying it's right, but I definitely understand.

See, women are distracting to men. Some men may not admit it, but I’m definitely not the only one. Watching you walk or, hell, just stand there can make it difficult to focus. Yes, I mean sex. Of course, that’s what I think about. Or maybe I just think about seeing you naked. I don’t know. It depends on my mood, and the situation, and the woman.

Go ahead. Call me a pig. Slap me across the face. Right here. Go on. You wouldn't be the first. I'm just trying to be honest here. I can’t help how my mind works. I do feel bad about it. At least sometimes. Particularly when I find myself thinking dirty thoughts about someone I shouldn't. Like women I work with. I try to treat them with respect, I really do. They deserve respect. These are intelligent and accomplished, independent women…and that, actually, makes it worse. To look at their curves under a close fitting skirt and silky blouse and know that the woman is smart too, probably smarter than me? I'm sorry, but that's hot. She’s up there talking about our client’s market penetration, and I’m thinking penetration, alright. Yes. I’m a bad man.

But I’m no pervert. I definitely don't get off on young girls or anything. That’s sick. In fact, the prospect of anyone more than 10 years younger makes me feel sort of dirty. Still, have you seen what these girls wear now? Preteens wear skirts the size of belts. Teenagers slather on make-up trying to look grown up and largely succeed. I look at them, okay. I try not to, but I look. I feel bad about it, but I look and involuntarily, thoughts come into my mind. Bad thoughts. I can’t help it. It's not fair to think that’s all my fault.

So when I see these places on the news with their faceless, shapeless, shrouded women, I think how much easier it would be to concentrate without being able to really see the women around me. How much easier it would be to avoid these guilty thoughts. But I also wonder how little it might take to distract me then. Would a glimpse of ankle do to me then what a glimpse of g-string does now? Would an errant lock of hair trigger a fantasy? I'm pretty sure my lust would adapt. Covering up probably won't keep my thoughts pure. My imagination is too good for that.

So, go ahead, ladies. Keep wearing those short skirts. Those tight tops. But when you catch me staring, and you will, know that what may seem like a creepy leer is truly meant as the utmost compliment. Honest.

In the year 2012

A man was preaching on the train a few weeks ago and I've been meaning to post the gist of his oration:

In the year 2012, we will be saved. We will dance with the wolves. The wolves will come down and they will be hungry. The buildings will tumble like washer-dryers. You will be taken to heaven. We will all be dancing with the stars. In the year 2012, it will end. We will be dancing with the stars who look like wolves. The wolves are hungry. Do not be left behind...

Tonight, a different man on the train was offering us all cheesecake and Gatorade. Everyone offers salvation in his own way.

Submission

I begin again. Last night I made two submissions to a local festival. One piece was newly written; the other was an edit of an older work that has never been produced. The holiday season is harrowing, but I feel that I am on the path again. I am writing again. I am submitting again. Hopefully that combination will result in me being produced again. I need to continue the trend of getting more productions each year. (2007 had 1 full-length production and 3 one-act productions, plus 2 public readings.) Plays are not meant to sit in a box or on a computer. Being a "semi-finalist" is reassuring, but they call having a play produced having it "done" because it can't be finished until it is put on stage.

I also need to be produced in more places. For not living in Pittsburgh for two and a half years, my playwriting career remains quite Pittsburgh-centric. Not that Pittsburgh is bad. It has been and continues to be very good for me. I just feel that I need to break out more. It would be nice to be produced in the city where I live. To do that, I need to submit plays to local theatres. I began that last night.

Do I think I have a chance with what I submitted? I never know. But at least I am trying. I wrote something. I sent it out. The rest is out of my hands.

I am a bear

Bears hibernate in the winter. There is a bit of that in me, too. I find it difficult to motivate in the winter. The cold and the whiteness of the snow make me want to snuggle under a blanket, only getting up to make a new mug of tea. I do not want to *do things.* I don't want to go out. I don't want to do things around the house. I just don't want to.

When I mentioned that I hadn't written much since moving to Chicago a friend told me "you'll write a lot in the winter." His point was that I wouldn't be going out as much, so I would stay at home and write. The problem is that I don't want to write when I am home either. Or clean. The house is in the worse shape it has been since before we unpacked. My to do list is growing not shrinking.

I need to find a way to work this out. I need to finally do the work that my laptop needs, so that I can use it while sitting on the chaise under the blanket. Or, I can bundle in comfy layers as I sit at my desk. Something. I need to survive this winter with something to show for it. Otherwise I may as well hibernate. I could use the sleep.

The Challenge of Being Pampered

I have back problems. This is largely my own fault. I sit at a computer all day, rarely using good posture. I don't exercise enough. I scrunch my shoulders up when I get cold. Once, after a particularly bad back spasm (resulting in PT and drug therapy for weeks) I began to use the chair massage service where I worked. I hadn't used it before then even though it was always available. Once I started going, I booked at 20-minute service every other week. It really helped to keep my back in check.

A few months ago, a no-frills massage and yoga place opened near my work. In fact, it is located between my job and the train. I walk by it everyday. When you get a membership there the price includes a one-hour service each month, plus discounts on additional services. I joined because it is affordable, and I figured it would compel me to get regular massages. The money is automatically charged each month.

Luckily, they let you bank up to four services because I am behind (by at least 2...could it be 3 now?). Why? It's because I don't feel I have time, or it seems like too much of a bother. To much of a bother to get a massage? Not enough time to get home an hour late once a month?

Besides helping my back (which is otherwise cronically sore with spikes of extreme pain), during a massage is the only time I can really relax my mind as well as my body. Normally I'm a manic multi-tasker, particularly at this time of year. My current to do list includes: cook for my Christmas party, cook for a holiday dinner party, decorate the house, wrap Christmas presents, fill out and send Christmas cards, complete several play submissions, and plan my honeymoon. I flit back and forth between these as well as more mundain items like paying bills and cleaning the house. While doing one I'm thinking of another. While doing "nothing" (riding the train, eating dinner, taking a shower), I think about what I am about to do. Only when I am in a little room, naked under a sheet, being kneaded for an hour do those thoughts calm. (I won't say they completely go away, but it's surprisingly close.)

A massage is time that both my mind and my body need. So why do I procrastinate getting them, particularly when they are already paid for? Yesterday, I booked a massage for tonight. Even then, I almost didn't. I was too lazy to get a massage?! But I'm going today. It will be extra cold when I get out of there, but really only a few degrees colder than if I go home on time.

I feel like it's wasteful not to do this. So many people do not have the means to get a massage. So many people have never had one. (I didn't until I was 29.) So who am I to whine about having to schedule one? And I feel this is a much more worthwhile way to spend my money than shopping. I definitely don't need stuff. I don't need it, and stuff just becomes clutter which becomes stress. This is a way to spend some dicretionary income on something that truly benefits my health and well-being. I need to go. And I need to enjoy it.

I promise to give a Christmas present to myself of trying to catch up on some of my massage credits this month. I deserve it, whether or not I choose to admit that at times.

Daring to Have a Merry Christmas

I guess I'm a rebel, but I like Christmas. It seems to be popular right now to bash Christmas. Sure, it's overly commercial, and it doesn't really tie to the Christian meaning (which is fine with me). However, it does bring people together. It encourages giving. It encourages treating oneself, one's family, and one's friend. It warms our hearts when it's cold outside. At least if we permit it.

Is it sad that we need a season for an excuse? A little. And I do try to be generous and welcoming to the people I care about all year long. What Christmas provides is a whole season when we can all focus on these things. Sure you may throw a party in the summer, but some people may have to work or have other plans. You may buy a gift for someone in the fall, but they may feel uncomfortable receiving a gift for "no reason" other than "I saw this and I thought of you." During the month of December everything slows down for celebrations and get togethers and choosing just the right gift.

Can it be stressful. Of course! It's important to keep things under control. I have thrown a Christmas party every year except one (after a move) since 1993. As it grew bigger it became stressful. I didn't do anything else in December but prepare for my party. It has become a tradition for many of my friends. So I was under a lot of pressure to keep it going. It lost the joy it once had. So I scaled it down. I still made special treats from scratch, but I'd supplement with some store bought appetizers and snack trays. Everyone still enjoys getting together, and I get to enjoy it, too!

I realize that other people celebrate other holidays this time of year. I respect that, but I still give Christmas presents. I don't feel like I'm forcing my beliefs on them (particularly the religious side of the holiday is not a part of my beliefs). I just want to share my traditions with them, and show them I care about them. My family always celebrated the season with a lot of love. That's what I like about it.

If that makes me a rebel, so be it. At least I'm a merry rebel.