I’m a neglectful blogger. Here’s an update.

Hey, dudes. It’s been an overly long time.

Here’s what’s been on my mind… in list form, because I dig lists.

1. April is gonna be fun. I’m out of town nearly every weekend for several auditions and one wedding, and I get to see a bunch of friends I haven’t seen in months, which is fantastically fun. Plus I have a show coming up. Sure, it’s a book-in-hand reading and it pays about 40 cents, but I’m happy to be doing some singing, finally. It’s been an excruciating year, to tell the truth. One of the hardest in memory, and I think that a big part of that is that I’m not constantly in rehearsal. It’s like a light has been switched off. I’m a different person. On the positive side, any lingering doubts about this career are gone. I now have actual proof that I am miserable when I’m not singing. Probably a bad thing, but what can you do?

2. My job BLOWS. Oh my God, it sucks so hard. There are always 30 files sitting on my chair when I come in. I’ve taken over 3 different jobs from my poor overworked supervisor, which is fine, but they’re not paying me enough for that. I’m working 32 hours plus a church job, and I’m still borrowing money from my parents. What in the hell? But I’ve only been there three months… how do I even ask for a raise? I don’t even know HOW to ask for a raise. Ugh. Please Lord, give me a far away singing gig.

3. I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to learn to control my temper. I’m spunky, and just like my mom, I have a short temper. It’s not cool, and has recently caused a bit of a problem (I cursed and screamed at my landlord’s voicemail – whoops!). I’d never cuss out a friend or a work colleague, but I don’t want to let it get to the point where I would. Anyone who’s ever driven with me knows that I’m a car screamer. It’s funny… but… is it funny? It’s a symptom, and I’m starting not to find it endearing anymore. Seriously, I’m angry, seriously angry, at least 4 times a week, with mild anger every day. Actual rage is frequent, and I want to control it before it becomes an actual problem.

Now I just need to figure out how to do it.

4. I saw Jane Eaglen last night, my first Wagenerian experience. I was thrilled. Who knew I liked Wagner?

5. I’m finally ready to lose weight. I’m fed the fuck up, and it needs to happen. I’m a pretty girl, the perfect little cutie pie soubrette, and I’m not obese… but I’m really not thin enough. I need to be real with myself.

Size 6. 10 lbs is all it’ll take.

It’s happening.

6. I had a friend make a big life decision. I felt so surprised and upset and awkward and relieved and sad and silly and so many things. But happy. So happy that a soul has found joy and some sort of peace, and it couldn’t have happened to a better soul.

I was thinking…

May we all be so lucky to find joy and truth… and to have the courage to accept and embrace that joy. It’s not so hard to find blissful happiness. It really isn’t. What’s hard is having the courage to let that happiness in.

Love to you all. I promise to write something silly this week. I have a funny story, but I’m not in a funny mood quite yet.

Netflix Reviews: No Country for Old Men

First of all, I am so thrilled and surprised that I was even able to GET this in the mail today, the day after it came out. I basically won at Netflix lottery. Wahoo!

Second of all, I am so pissed that I didn’t get to see this in the theater. No one would go with me. It was awesome at home, but damn… Damn you, friends.

Third of all, this movie is perfect.

I’m dead-ass serious.

It was over two hours… and I wanted at LEAST another hour. Maybe two.

I might watch it again tonight.

Josh Brolin: Perfect. Oozes Texas. Utterly human. Fantastic.

Javier Bardiem: Perfect. Maybe the most terrifying performance I’ve seen, um, ever.

Tommy Lee Jones: Perfect. Poetic subtlety mixed with a southern good old boy.

I loved every second, every shot, every line. Even when I was curled in a little ball and whimpering (it happened more than once), I was gooing my pants with delight.

Here’s what’s up: Josh Brolin stumbles upon the remains of a drug deal gone bad. He steals some guns…and…a suitcase full of money. Whoops, now Javier Bardiem, the scariest man alive is looking for him. So is the sheriff, Tommy Lee Jones. Cat and mouse ensues, leaving a really high body count. It’s simple, but since it’s a Coen brothers movie, ever character is fleshed out to perfection.

See it, if you haven’t. Like, YESTERDAY.

Unless you’re super sensitive to violence. Then maybe you shouldn’t.

You know what, you should anyway. Just fucking see it.

Netflix Reviews: The Ex

Um… 

I pretty much love everyone in this movie, even Zach Braff, who I think is a indie-hipster-tool but adore because of Garden State and Scrubs. Come on, Amanda Peet, Mia Farrow, Amy Poehler, Charles Grodin, Fred Armisen… freaking JASON BATEMAN, who enriches my life in so many ways…

It should be so awesome.

But alas, this movie sucks balls. It’s basically a giant 84 minute teabagging session.

I did laugh a bunch of times, but it was basically whenever Jason Bateman spoke, and in retrospect it’s probably because he has very specific, identifiable line delivery and I thought (wished?) I was watching Arrested Development.

Here’s what’s happening with this: Amanda Peet and Zach Braff just had a baby, so they move from New York to Ohio so Zach can work at his father-in-law’s new-age advertising firm. Uh oh, Amanda’s old friend from high school is Zach’s boss. He’s in a wheelchair, still wants to bone her, and is a total douchebag. Unfortunately everyone loves him and hates Zach.

Also unfortunately, nothing makes sense. I mean, Jason Bateman does crazy things and no one EVER brings up how crazy they are. He steals a picture and cut the other dude’s head out of it, giving the Zach total proof that he’s crazy… how come he never brings it up and only brings up stupid, unprovable things? Also, Amanda totally has no love for Jason, so WHY does Zach give a shit? She thinks he’s weird and creepy, and you never get the feeling that she has any interest in him… hence, no conflict. Mean-spirited jokes don’t really work if there isn’t a conflict. Zach throwing a handicapped person (even if he is a total dick) down the stairs? Not really funny.

Which is disappointing, because, like I said, everyone in it I like. Balls.

Thank God it was Netflix and not in the theater, I’d be really pissed if I had spent $9.50 on this. I guess it would be a good flick to catch on cable on a Saturday afternoon when you’re really hungover.

Thank you.

Remember that Alanis Morissette song? That “Thank You” song? It’s kind of a crappy song (sorry, Alanis), but a pretty good idea. I sure do owe a lot of “thank you”s right now.

Thank you, family, for taking care of me. An adult child who can’t seem to make her life work, who takes up your time, energy, and money to follow a seemingly impossible dream can not be an easy thing. How you manage to manage to provide unending support without resentment is beyond my comprehension. I am a very, very, very lucky child who often doesn’t deserve this love. Thank you. Thank God for you.

To my fun time friends, thank you. You make me smile, and laugh, and bring out the joyful bundle of endearing wackiness that is me at my best. Bless you for your energizing powers, for providing me with hugs, big smiles, and giggles. You enrich my life. Thank you.

Thank you, inner circle friends. I know you don’t always get the fun-time Artsy, and I’m really sorry for that. I want to pay you back with laughter and fun, but, as it often is with those we love most, you get the repetitive complaints, the sobbing on the phone, the secrets. Thank you for loving me anyway. Thank you for asking me how I am, and really wanting to know. You are rocks, spread throughout the damn continent, for me to cling to when I feel like I’m drowning. You can’t know what it means. Thank you.

Thank you, Mom, for you. For respecting me when I don’t deserve it. Thank you for taking the crazy, accepting it, and never judging the ramblings of my mind or my heart. Thank you for keeping secrets, for respecting my strange mix of being a complete open book and an intensely private creature. Mostly, thank you for believing in me. You tell me every time we talk just how special I am, how talented, how amazing… and though most days I don’t believe a damn word of it, a little tiny part of me understands that you’re the smartest person I know, so some of it has to be true. For a girl who has always felt a little embarrassed that she exists, this is invaluable. Bless you for that. You are the best human I have ever known. Thank you.

Thanks, faithful blog readers, strangers and buddies alike. You know how I love attention, and knowing someone read something I wrote, however stupid, is nice. Thanks, guys.

Netflix Reviews: Hard Candy (2006)

Ok. It is impossible to tell you about this movie without including spoilers. I’ll put little stars before I get too specific so you’ll know when to stop if you so choose.

Sound good?

Good.

So… This is among the coolest, ballsiest, most horrifying, and finely acted movie I’ve seen, like, ever.

That being said, I absolutely never want to see it again. Or at least in the next 3 years. Thank GOD I didn’t watch it alone.

There are basically only two people in it: Hayley (Ellen Page), a 14 year old girl, and Geoff (Patrick Wilson), the 30-something she meets online. For about 15 minutes you really think it’s going to be that the charming, sexy Geoff is going to rape and brutalize Hayley. Nope. She’s going to drug, tie up, and torture him for the next hour and a half. You’ll find out why.

It’s impossible to know who is good (if anyone) and who is evil (if anyone). I never felt safe or comfortable for the entire duration. The first minute sets it off and it never gives you a break. It’s mostly close-up shots of the two leads, and it gives the whole film a nervous, claustrophobic feel. It’s chatty… VERY chatty, and 99% of the action takes place in one location… you feel trapped along with Geoff.

It’s as upsetting as you expect a thriller about a pedophile and a psychotic teenager run amuck to be. It made me upset, and sick, and absolutely terrified, but I still think that it’s fantastic. The acting is ridiculously wonderful. I believed it all. The tight dialogue and camera angles make it feel like a quick-witted play. Love it, but, like I said, I wouldn’t want to watch it again any time soon.

Still, be brave and give it a shot if you’re willing to commit. I’ve got a DAMN open mind and an immense love of film, and I found this to be one of the most challenging movies I’ve ever seen. In a good, life-changing way.

See it, if you dare.

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Ok, there is something I have to write about. It will give away part of it, but not the POINT of the movie, and that’s what really matters. However, don’t read any further if you don’t want to know ANYTHING about it.
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Ok. *sigh*

There is a 20 minute castration scene.

I’m serious when I say 20 minutes.

And then.

Oh, then.

Oh dear Lord, then.

SHE PUTS HIS TESTICLES DOWN THE FUCKING GARBAGE DISPOSAL.

And you know what, that’s not the most emotionally disturbing part, though it is by FAR the most stomach-churning, even though you don’t really SEE anything. But you hear it.

Just had to tell you guys, because it is so awesome/horrifying.

Dear Old People At My Church Job,

Hey guys and gals! Sorry, I’ll speak up. HEY GUYS AND GALS!!!

Turned the old hearing aids up? Good.

Ok, I’ve been meaning to tell you this:

Stop trying to be funny.

You’re not.

You’re not funny.

Seriously, you’re not funny.

Seriously.

Not.

Funny.

At all.

I can’t continue to fake laugh anymore. It only encourages you.

So let’s just choose the best option for everyone. Quit it.

You’ve got a lotta moxie,

Artsy

Inspiration of the Day

If I could hope to be half of the artist Lorraine Hunt Lieberson was, I would die happy.

Check her out in a staged version of Handel’s oratorio about early Christian persecution, “Theodora.” Obviously directed by Peter Sellars, complete with choreography.

I don’t know about you, but I was brought to tears, and am speechless.

You know, I was going to write all about how she inspired me to be an artist, not just a singer, how I want to touch people like she touched me… Eh. It’s redundant and lame, and I can tell Opera News all about it when I’m famous.

So… enjoy.