A wedding, a world cup, and Harry Potter...week in review

There's nothing that makes a gal reflect and ponder quite like a wedding.  I imagine it's the same for everyone; if you're married, a wedding makes you think about your wedding, and your marriage.  If you're not, a wedding makes you think about the wedding you hope you will have some day.  Relationships, family, loyalty, pageantry, symbolism: they're all tied up in this strange tradition that we as humans have adopted as the norm. 

It's no wonder that so many plays and movies have been made about weddings; they are like chemistry experiments.  Throw a bunch of stuff in a tube, shake, and see what happens.  If you're lucky, all you get is a pleasant smelling, pastel colored liquid.  If you're not, the tube explodes.  Sure, you can regulate the temperature and how hard you shake things, but in reality, it's about the essence of the stuff you throw in the tube.

Happily, my brother's wedding was a rather mild concoction, which I hope means that the Walker and Beznoska families, are, at their core, stable compounds.  I'm sure there was a drama I didn't know about, but aside from the late arrival of the groomsmen, the groom stepping on the train, and a mother-of-the groom who could barely walk the day before the big event, it seemed to go smoothly.  Even the weather cooperated, gracing us with mid-80's temperatures and breezes after weeks of icky, sweltering heat.  Prior to the big day, we saw Navy battleships and giant container ships in the port, and the gals got the requisite mani-pedi's and hairdos.

The big news on hair day was my straight hair; so straight in fact that my entire family didn't recognize me until I literally stuck my face in theirs and spoke.  It's always a catch 22 when I straighten my hair; people say well meaning things like "you should do that more often!" which I take to mean that I'm totally screwed because there's no way I could ever make my hair look like that, and wait, are they saying my curly hair is ugly?  Sigh.  The curse of self-doubt.

Which brings us to my one regret from this weekend; I wish I could have gotten out of my head a little more.  It was a beautiful weekend, and I had a lovely time, but I couldn't shake a lingering feeling of inadequacy; I didn't lose enough weight, I didn't look pretty enough for the pictures, was everyone pitying me because I'm the mid-thirties spinster sister-in-law watching her little brother get married? These things are mostly in my head, I know.  How selfish and shallow they sound, reading them now.  After all, we all know that no one cares about our inadequacies as much as we do ourselves.

And the truth is, it was a hell of a good week. Bells from a nearby church just happened to ring out as the ceremony was winding down. I am over the moon happy for my brother, who gave an incredible heartfelt toast about "finding what was missing," and who absolutely made my year by dancing with my mom to "Barbara Ann."  I am so excited to have a sister-in-law by definition, and hope that we can become sisters-in-law in more than words over the coming years.  I loved seeing my brother's friends surround him with friendship and fun, and seeing my mom and dad enjoy their far-flung family.  My dad even danced with us, and he hates dancing.  I got to dip my toes in the Atlantic.  I did some serious, good thinking about my life and my future.  I saw the final Harry Potter with my bro, his bro-in-law and my sis-in-law.  The Americans ALMOST won the World Cup.  I came home to a clean house and a tail-wagging dog.

Really, there's not much to complain about. Yes, I wish that I knew the kind of joy and solidity in a relationship that my brother obviously has with his wife.  But if that's all I have to worry about?  Sheesh.  Time to get on with it, go to work, make plans, and keep hoping.   And reflect on how lucky I am to have had a week of family and love and celebration of two people who have found each other.

Can Lord of the Rings stand the test of time?

You few (you happy few) who read this blog have probably figured out that I'm a geek.  Not a full-fledged-early-adopter-can-name-every-creature-in-the-bar-scene-in-Star-Wars-attends-Comi-Con-religiously kind of geek, but a Battlestar-Galactica-watching-forensic-html-amateur-Joss-Whedon-fan kind of geek.  I dig YA fiction, have a special place in my heart for sci-fi disaster movies and I've read all of the Outlander and Wheel of Time books.  I love me some Lord of the Rings, but I didn't read them as a kid.  I read them as they were having their Renaissance, brought on by Peter Jackson and his army of filmmakers and artists. 

Beginning at Christmas-time 2001, I lived Lord of the Rings for nearly half a decade, as I followed the films in the theater and waited anxiously each Christmas to receive the extended edition DVD of the previous year's film.  Yes, I watched all 75,000 hours of DVD extras, knew where the easter eggs were in the DVD menus, and for those few years, gave serious thought to changing careers so I could work on a project like LOTR.  I loved the technology, the story, the tremendous artistry of the characters, and yes, I confess, Viggo Mortenson.  I was an Aragon girl, hands down.  Legolas was for wimps.

So, nearly 10 years after the first movie appeared in theaters, I was pretty excited to see the full extended version on the big screen last night.  However, I also had some doubts; I hadn't watched the movies in years.  I'm no longer an idealistic 20-something surrounded by fellow theater geeks looking to change the world through art.  I'm a slightly-burned-out mid-thirties single gal wondering if the world will ever change enough for me to find my place.  And I couldn't help but wonder; would the movies stand up?  Would they still look visually interesting, or would the computer-generated battle scenes look like, well, they came from a computer?  Would the supremely clever tricks with perspective be revealed as nothing more than parlor games, their secrets revealed in the 10 years of improved technology since the movies were made?  Would all the snide homoerotic talk about Frodo and Sam ruin their friendship for me?   Would the magic of the hero's quest, with the ins and outs of evil and free will woven throughout, still resonate?

I'm happy to say: Yes. Yes. No. No. And a big YES.  (And Viggo is still pretty hot.)

The movies stand up.  They looked amazing, and though in the back of my head, I was still remembering all the little notes I knew from watching those damn DVD extras, the story took me away.  Sure, there's a bit too much exposition and some of the performances are over the top.  Yes, the movie is long.  Who cares?  It's a great story, and the sweeping grandeur of New Zealand plus the amazing costumes, miniature work and musical score are as impressive today as they were 10 years ago.

Walking out of the show, I felt a little wistful for the years gone by, for my good friend who waited in long lines with me to be a part of the opening weekends.  I felt old; how is it even POSSIBLE that it was 10 years ago that I first saw the movie in the theaters?  I felt a little depressed at how little my life has changed since then. 

But tonight, one day later, I think I've decided to take comfort in the fact that the movies held up.  They were innovative in their time, and they are still very good.  If I apply that same idea to my life, I like where that takes me. 

Bring on The Hobbit.  And The Two Towers, next Tuesday.  I'll be there. 

I believe in salary caps

Day 3 of the #trust30 project, a writing and self-reflection initiative.  Today, it was tough to be honest. 

***

It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

The world is powered by passionate people, powerful ideas, and fearless action. What’s one strong belief you possess that isn’t shared by your closest friends or family? What inspires this belief, and what have you done to actively live it?

***

For this one, I had to ignore the last question in order to be honest about a belief I hold that most of my friends and family don't share.  Talk about a recipe for self-reflection.

I believe in salary caps.

No one needs to make 100 billion dollars, or have a net worth twice that of a medium-sized country.

A CEO who makes millions of dollars should have to cut his salary before laying off hundreds of workers in the name of efficiency and profit. 

Competitive forces do not justify the need to pay someone more money than they should be able to spend in a lifetime.


To shamelessly quote from NPR: this I believe.

I have no idea where this belief comes from.  I'd like to think it's a sense of innate fairness, but that's probably giving myself too much credit. 

Sadly, I have done nothing to try to live by this belief.  Mostly because I haven't reached the cap yet.  Whatever it is, or whatever it should be.   And because I can't even begin to think how we'd legislate or enforce such a thing. 

I wonder if this belief will haunt me if I ever go into politics.  Probably.  Oh well.

Describe today in one sentence

Today is day two of the #trust30 project, a 30-day writing challenge that encourages us to look within and trust ourselves. I already feel better after only one day of focused writing.  I wonder what day 30 will bring.

***
Today's quote and challenge:

Your genuine action will explain itself, and will explain your other genuine actions. Your conformity explains nothing. The force of character is cumulative. – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

If ‘the voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tracks,’ then it is more genuine to be present today than to recount yesterdays. How would you describe today using only one sentence? Tell today’s sentence to one other person. Repeat each day.

(Author: Liz Danzico)

***
Oh man - if only this were Monday - I had the best one liner.  But it's Wednesday.  I must stay true to the assignment.  So, here's mine: 

Once a decision has been made, it's done; the only thing is to move on to the next decision that needs making.

15 minutes to live

I'm taking part in the #trust30 project, a 30-day writing challenge that encourages us to look within and trust ourselves.  The timing is perfect.  I need this; I need to get back to a place where I can make a decision and trust it.

***
Today's challenge:

We are afraid of truth, afraid of fortune, afraid of death, and afraid of each other. Our age yields no great and perfect persons. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.
1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.
(Author: Gwen Bell)

***
Yeah, ok.  This is too intense for me.  The story that has to be written?  Is it a story to hope and pray that my cell phone works so I can call my parents, brother, aunt, uncle and Little Sister to tell them that I love them, and then post something pithy on facebook to everyone else?

That's not a story. 

Is it a story to relate that I've actually thought about this quite a bit?  Living alone, you think of these things.  According to the weather folks the other day, we were facing the ultimate tornado threat.  The world was about to end (and it did for some people in Joplin, MO and Denning, AR).  And I have to admit that I made sure to wear nice pajamas to bed, because if my house came tumbling down, I didn't want to be wandering around this life or the next in threadbare pj's or worse, a short nightgown.  I have wondered if I should shave my legs or wear nicer underwear on the off chance that I might drop dead and have to have my clothes ripped off in autopsy.  Or clean my house more regularly so those who have to clean up when I'm gone aren't embarrassed. 

Eek, that's more than a little morbid.

But it's not really a story.

What's the story I would want to tell in the last 15 minutes?  Well, assuming all the other needs, like appropriate goodbyes to loved ones and haute morte couture have been met, and I wasn't expected to give a treatise on how we should love one another and live in peace, I'd want it to be this.

There was a girl from a small town.  She was pretty smart (good grades, decent instincts).  She was pretty athletic (in her day).  She was pretty successful (nice job, a few diplomas).  She was pretty lucky (awesome family, good friends).

But was she pretty?

In her last 15 minutes, she realized it didn't matter.  Everything else did.

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - entry 1 of 5 that will make my fellow Broadway/theater geeks a little green

I could nearly feel the jealousy via facebook as I chronicled my adventures in NYC at the Broadway League Spring Road Conference last week.  Sorry, y'all.  I won't lie; it was much fun.  I'm going to try to chronicle it by breaking the days down by show.


Day One (5/9/11)
I was the first to the airport, a big shock to my colleagues, who take no small measure of glee in reminding me of how notoriously bad I am at rising and becoming functional in the morning.  We had a direct flight to NYC (bliss) and my hotel roommate and I zipped through the TKTS line, then enjoyed some sushi before heading to the first of many parties.  This one was on stage at the Sondheim Theatre - my second time on a Broadway stage, the first being when I danced with the cast and audience during the curtain call of Hair!  It was the Anything Goes set - more on that show in the next entry.  I think there was another party in there - thrown by RAIN: A Tribute to the Beatles, which played at my arts center long before it played on Broadway.  Yeah, we're just that cool.

Then it was off to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.  I have never seen the movie, and truly, all I knew about the show was that it's about drag queens.  Turns out, you didn't need to know more than that. 

Costumes.  Rainbows.  Dancing cupcakes.  Divas.  Washboard abs.

It was a glorious night of fun and pageantry. 

I always roll my eyes a little when creative Broadway teams say stuff like "but really it's about the characters and their journey", but in this case, it was a literal journey, taken in a giant pink bus that felt a little like Mary Poppins' carpet bag - full of the strangest and most delightful of surprises - helped along by more than 500 costumes that seemed to grow bigger and more outrageous with each number. 

What is it about drag queens?  I mean, really?  Why are they so fascinating?  I'm not sure, but there was a line in the show that is still sticking with me. It follows some violence, and goes something like this: "These girls should stay in the city.  It's the only safe place for them."  How sad that in many cases, this is the truth. 

But that was one small moment of solemnity in two hours of partying that resembled one of those sugar-filled swizzle sticks that kids eat at fairs.  What a riot.  I'm so very glad that I got to see this show.  And really, was there any doubt that I would love it?  When one of the first songs is "It's Raining Men?"  Sung by three powerhouse divas and danced by gorgeous men in fabulous costumes?

Hallelujah, indeed.

Lots to say, but I'm short on words

Wow, I've had a lot of blog-worthy stuff happening these past weeks.  But I find myself without the vocab energy to make any of it into a blog entry.  So in the spirit of Twitter, here's a few brief mentions of what's been going on, just for posterity's sake.

We've had rain, lots of rain.  We even had some floods.  And there were tornados, bad ones, south of us.  Mama Nature was not a happy camper in those last weeks of April.  Lots of May flowers coming, we hope.

I took a jaunt to Madison for Bolzie Board stuff and home to NH for the last time that it will be my home.  The memories that trip stirred up...well, that definitely needs a full blog entry.

A few days back in the office, and then it was off to NY for the Broadway Road Conference.  I saw Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Anything Goes (with Sutton Foster and Joel Grey), Bengal Tiger in the Baghdad Zoo (with Robin Williams), The Book of Mormon and Sister Act.  More on those later. 

And now a few crazy work weeks begin, but they are colored by the tragic death of someone far too young to have left the earth so soon.  I know how all of this young man's friends feel, and I just wish I could take that pain from them; the process takes a long time and I wish they didn't have to suffer it. 

And remember that entry about something good happening?  I think I spoke too soon.  That'll teach me.

Here's hoping for more cheer and light in the next entry.  Go Sox!