Sounds

While listening to my local NPR station this evening, I stumbled into an interesting segment; apparently March is the 21st anniversary of Ozarks at Large, a local news show. So they decided to play, and discuss, their 21 favorite sounds.

Not their favorite stories.  Their favorite sounds.   The 10 minutes I caught included the expected, like babbling brooks and insects, and the unexpected, like a plumbing snake being fed through a clogged drain. 

It was an enlightening moment.  See, one of my favorite parts of my work week is my Thursday KUAF interview.  I enjoy the process, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I like being told that I have a nice radio voice. Though I often think "Yep, I've got a face and a voice for radio," I realized, while listening tonight, that I don't have the required obsession with sounds.  My first instinct when I hear something interesting is not to grab my IPhone or whatever microphone I happen to have lying around (do I have microphones lying around?  I rest my case.) and record it.  But I guess, if you spend your life manipulating sounds and sound wavelengths to create something, you'd have to be pretty obsessed about sound.  I'd never thought of that.

Regardless, it sure is fun to try to describe your favorite sounds, even though putting them into words is tough.  Here are my top five: 

#5.  When the surround sound kicks in at a movie theater.  You've been suffering through tinny renditions of the latest pop sensation, and suddenly...whoosh...the sound starts from behind your head and ripples down the walls in parallel waves, crashing together in the exact center of the movie screen.  I love that.  Especially if the movie that follows features lots of explosions and fight scenes.  

#4.  Quacking.  Ducks are funny.  I can't ever hear them quacking without smiling and wanting to quack back, despite the fact that they won't understand me and people tend to look at me funny when I do.

#3.  Kids in a theater. Those who have never had my job won't get this one.  When our 1200 seat auditorium is full of children, they tend to look, and sound, like popcorn in a pan: bouncing around, a steady hum of noise punctuated by the occasional screech or leap out of a seat.  But you absolutely cannot beat what happens when the lights start to go down; they start to whoop and scream and holler like it's a rock concert.  Half of the students probably don't know what they are about to see, but it doesn't matter. It's like plugging into an outlet for a recharge of the soul.

#2.  Orchestras tuning: be it a Broadway show or a full 80 piece ensemble, the cacaphony of the pre-show tuning is just, well, awesome.  It ebbs and flows, highly disciplined in each instrument's tuning, but a completely undisciplined combined sound. Yet to me, it always sounds the same.  Eerie, but beautiful.

#1.  I think only theater people will get this one, but my favorite sound is actually a lack of one.  It's the silence of a perfectly timed moment on stage, when the absence of sound says more than any words or music could.  I love this.  Just love it.  It can so easily go wrong; if the silence is too long, it's awkward.  If it's too short, it's not real.  But when it's perfect, it can take an audience through an emotional moment without them even knowing it. 

So thanks to my friends at KUAF for the intellectual stroll down Sound Alley.  I'm going to be listening more carefully in the next few days, I think.

How about you?  What are your favorite sounds?

The Ides of March

Huh.

If I didn't know better, I'd think this time of year has it out for me.  My staff have a habit of leaving for new jobs on or around the 15th of March.  The spring months, which should be my favorite time of year, stretch endlessly before me, full of to-do lists that are far more impressive than my ration of daylight hours. I have started doing stupid things like attempting to unlock the backstage door with my car remote, or spend 5 minutes looking for the sunglasses that are on my head. 

And vacation seems so very, very far away.

But this Ides season, I really can't complain (though it appears I just did).  There a "catastrophic nuclear accident" going on in Japan, according to the NYTimes.  Even the stalwart WSJ.com says things are "spinning out of control."

Perspective is a good, if painful, thing.

So, I have this to say. You've had your fun, Ides.  Now cool down that reactor and go back to your hideaway for another year.  We've had just about enough of you, thanks.

An unlikely Cinderella goes shopping

If there are men reading this, you might want to get your eye-rolling and scoffing out of the way now, or better yet, go watch ESPN.  This is definitely a girly post. 

So, tomorrow I'm going to a ball.  A real, live ball, complete with masks and black tie optional.  Unfortunately, I will not have a handsome gentlemen in a tux on my arm, but I'll be working, so in truth, even if I had one, he'd be in the way.  Or so I tell myself. :)

I don't often go to balls.  In fact, it's safe to say I never do.  I think the last one I went to was...well...probably prom, if that counts.  I'm sure you can see the problem.  No gowns in my closet, except an extremely boring one that has hung around for at least 10 years (and I'll be damned if I can remember why I bought it).  No shoes that are anything but black, sensible or flip flops.  No sparkly jewelry.  A woeful lack of appropriate underarmor...er...wear.  And no time to scour the few stores we have. In fact, I had one night, and a four part mission: dress, underwear, jewelry, shoes.

It's rare that I actually enjoy shopping.  Let's be honest; fashion is not friendly to the overweight.  Oh, I know, Spanx are great, and you can read all the articles in the world about how "confidence" and "taking care of yourself" are as sexy as a size 4 body, but it simply. ain't. true.  Clothes in stores are designed for people who are skinnier than me.  Period.

Thus, I always approach a "must buy" shopping spree with healthy trepidation.  Today, though, I had a funny feeling that it wouldn't be as bad as usual, and to my delight, it wasn't.  Remember how Cinderella had a beautiful dress made for her by the mice ?  I felt like I had Gus-Gus and his crew with me tonight.

DRESS
The first sign that things were going to be different? I found my dress on my first trip to the fitting room.  Even better, I was only a few pounds away from being able to get the smaller size.  Excellent weight loss incentive there.   Now the dilemma - bold color or sensible and slimming black?  My normal MO is black.  So I went for the color.  I'm such a rebel.

UNDERWEAR
A brief stop in the unmentionables department had me thinking of all the scenes in movies about "slimming" undergarments:  Bridget Jones and her giant panties, for example, or this classic line from Steel Magnolias:

"I haven't left the house without lycra on my thighs since I was 14."
"You were brought up right."

JEWELRY
Note to self; it's fun to shop in the jewelry section when one is not trying to walk the sparkly/yet subtle line.  When sparkly is all you're going for, the possibilities are endless.

SHOES
I had intended to buy a long dress so I could wear flats. But the dress has a slit, so, heels it must be.  Another $100 bucks for shoes?  No thanks.  To the clearance rack! Clearance isn't really my thing, since I can never find anything I like (hence why the shoes are on clearance, right?), but sometimes, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.  I had a fleeting thought to buy silver shoes; after all, where would I wear silver shoes but at a ball?  Alas, there were none in my size.  Sigh.  So, I settled for some black ones, and headed to checkout.  But then...lo and behold...the salesman was marking boxes of shoes for clearance, and they just happen to be the silver version of the black shoes I was planning to buy!

That was the moment when I started to wonder if I might just pull this whole thing off.

Of course, the drive home is always about buyer's remorse.  Should've gone with the black.  What will it look like when I get home and the light isn't flattering anymore?  It's doesn't quite look right in the back, and no time for alterations; will my wrap cover that? What if I get laughed at for wearing a bright blue/purple dress?  Who am I to think I could look good among women who make it their life's work to look spectacular even when walking the dog?  And so on.

Only tomorrow's ball will tell, but for now, I'm enjoying the thought of my $15 silver shoes and successful shopping venture.  Gus-Gus and his pals did well, and I don't have mean stepsisters to rip my dress to shreds and thus require the fairy godmother to bail me out. 

I'm kind of pysched to be going to a ball.  See you at midnight in the pumpkin coach.

Martin Short, live in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

He's funny.

That is all.

Why you should see a play that isn't happy

I was never into history.  Not really. 

Strange, then, that I am finding the history of Arkansas, where I now call home, particularly interesting.  Maybe it's because I've lived in Arkansas longer than any other state in my residential history.  Maybe it's because down here the stuff I studied in textbooks feels a little more recent.  Let's face it; when the Grand Dragon of the KKK lives a few hours away, it's hard to stay removed from discussions about race.  When the Civil War is still half-jokingly referred to by some as The War of Northern Aggression, well, there's something there, something that needs exploration.

This might be why a new play by a local professional theater, TheatreSquared, is resonating so much with me.  (Full disclosure: I'm on the board of this theater, so I am unashamedly going to try to convince you to go see the play).  The play is called Sundown Town.  A sundown town, for those like me who didn't know until recently, was a town where black people were not allowed in the town after sundown.  There are towns near me who only took those laws off the books within the last half century; they are very real. 

However, this play isn't really about the law from which it takes it's name.  It's more of a tragic ensemble piece, concerned more with matters of sin than jurisprudence.  Set in a highly religious, ficticious Arkansas town called Healing Springs (the windows of a church take up a full 1/3 of the set), it's the story of what happens to a town of (mostly) pious white folks when a black drifter comes around.   It's a multi-layered story, with characters that are both typical and richly textured.  The innocent daughter, the town drunk, the local businessman, the beloved blind elder, the Christian mother, the steady father; these standard characters are mostly multi-dimensional and full of wisdom, pathos and flaws.  They are instantly recognizable, and with a few exceptions, instantly likable. 

Their sins (as defined by their worldview) are many and varied, and boy, do they agonize over them.  Along the way, they occasionally break into song.  The music is live, performed by local favorite 3 Penny Acre, a seriously awesome gift for a theatrical production.  Hands down, the songs were well sung and well played, and I'm a little saddened to admit my opinion that sometimes, they didn't serve the progression of the story.  I was most interested in the music when it was providing a live soundscape for the story: underscoring the dramatic slow motion violence or providing the soundtrack for a pantomimed fiddle or piano.  Still, I have to admire the playwright, music director and performers for making the music so raw; seeing a lone actor on stage, singing her heart out without a microphone or amplified support sound is a very moving experience.

The writing is equally moving, exploring tough subjects without delving too much into the preachy or didactic.  There are times when it gets a little lyrical, which is fine by me.  I like to imagine a world where "common" folks speak with some poetry.  Like many new shows, there are some scenes and songs that go on a bit too long, but after a while, I didn't care.  I wanted to see more of these people and know more about their struggles. 

Speaking of struggles, this is not a happy show.  There are moments of levity, but at its heart, this show isn't meant to take you away from the world or make you feel good about yourself.  It's meant to make you think.  Not surprisingly, convincing people to see this one has been tougher than usual.  But I want to challenge those few who might be reading this to give it a shot.   Sure, the subject matter hits close to home.  No, you won't walk out humming any catchy tunes.  In the program, a TheatreSquared staff member wonders if we really should hold a mirror up to history, or is it better to just move on?  If you want to move on, this play won't let you.  Which is why I think you should see it.

There are multiple other reasons to see it: a beautiful set, marvelous performances by the whole cast, several of whom are local actors, and the fact that this play has been nurtured by a local theater company through two seasons of workshops.  Put simply, it's a good play and a good story.  And here's my final plea; by going to see a show that isn't really all that happy, you will appreciate the happy plays even more.  :)

Tickets can be purchased here, and more information about the play can be found here.

a date with myself

Note: I was going to blog about Christa McAuliffe and the anniversary of a friend's death tonight.  Happily for all involved, I'm not in the mood for somber reflection.  Onward to happier topics.

A date with myself is nothing new.  In fact, it's the norm.  However, it's not typical for one of these self-dates to leave me feeling...well...blessed.

But tonight some combination of things worked out. 

Perhaps it was feeling marginally healthy after being sick for 4 days.

Maybe it was the skirt/boots combination that I wore to work today, that got me the usual "wow, Jodi, you're wearing a skirt" comments - great inspiration to slim down so buying cute clothes is easier and more fun. 

Maybe it was the 60 degree temps that meant I could walk the dog for miles in jeans and a light sweater.

It might have been the results of that walk:

Or my very happy (though not really healthy) choice to eat leftover Annie's macaroni and cheese for dinner, with the promise that I'd have fruit on my frozen yogurt later that evening. 

Or how that frozen yogurt carried me down the street toward the theater, keeping me company as I waited for the train to pass by. 

Maybe it was the smiles on people's faces as they watched the train; everyone seemed to be in a good mood tonight. 

It might have been the delightful elderly lady who sat to my right in the theater, or the quiet, yet chatty gentleman to my left.  They were both genuinely interested to know that I worked there, and asked me a series of intelligent questions that led to a pleasant evening of pre-show and intermission conversation.

I suppose it also could have been the sublime music emanating from violinist Joshua Bell and pianist Sam Haywood.  It's cliched, I know, but their music brought tears to my eyes more than once.  And I found it just perfect that I got to meet, and shake hands with, the less famous (but no less talented) of the two, Sam, who was chatting backstage while Joshua Bell signed autographs out front.

Or maybe it was the kind gesture of a colleague, doing something special for me after the show when he really was under no obligation to do so.

Who knows.

Like I said, I'm on dates with myself all the time.  And more often than not, I have fun, but come home with that vague feeling that I'm failing somehow, in not either a) finding a man or b) being so glamorously fabulous that I don't need a man.  But not tonight.  Tonight, I feel content in my plain solitude, in the knowledge that I talked easily to strangers, saw amazing music played by virtuosos, and looked kind of cute in my skirt and boots. 

What fun.  Here's hoping for more nights like this. 

Movies that don't (?) suck

Yesterday I stumbled on a previously unheard of movie channel on my U-Verse cable, and came upon a movie lineup ingeniously titled "Movies that don't suck".  Bonus, I thought.

Except that they were playing Broken Arrow.  You know, the one about missing nuclear weapons, starring John Travolta, Christian Slater and Samantha Mathis (and Howie Long - let's not forget that gem of a performance). 

Broken Arrow is a terrible movie (Thus the reason I love it). It's directed by John Woo, with his trademark cheesy dialogue and ridiculous characters/caricatures.  And lots of guns and explosions.  A perfectly delightful/awful movie.   Right up there with Armageddon, The Core and Face/Off.

It most definitely sucks.

And yes, I own the VHS version and am now rewinding it because I want to watch the "uncut" version.  I mean, if the best line of the movie is "I say God Damn, what a rush!!!", and they edit it out of the TV version, one is obliged to restore the movie to it's former, completely sucking glory. 

Excuse me while I go remember how to fast forward through the credits.