Have had a really lovely weekend so far.
Last night, we went to see David Mamet's A Life in Theater with Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight. Smashingly fabulous. Somewhat below Sir Patrick's full abilities, but he's more than earned the right to take roles that are riduculously fun to play. It was hilarious, one of the funniest plays I've seen. And the costume and set changes were just amazing. The conceit is that it's a bunch of brief scenes of two actors working together over years. Most of it is basically an extended set of the greatest hits of "shit that goes wrong backstage". It's the kind of thing that seems revealing if you've never worked in theater, but if you have done some theater yourself is so very "so funny because it's true" that you're basically falling over laughing. Most scenes are only a few minutes long, so there's a lot of them. And every single one of them involves a costume change. In the space of ten minutes, they would go from WWII uniforms to Russian nobles to Renaissance swordsmen to British businessmen, including changes in wigs and facial hair. The sets included barricades, offices, make up tables, operating theaters, and a boat that actually rocked. Fantastic.
Today we had a Halloween party in which we had many friends wearing some very creative costumes come over and eat a lot of candy. It was absolutely delightful, especially in how well our different friends circles combine and play together.
I was not particularly popular in grade school. Better in high school, but still not popular. If I threw a party, four people came. I had a couple very good friends, one of whom I'm still in close contact with, and all of whom I am grateful for. But not popular.
While I may not hobnob with the rich and famous, somehow as an adult I've become popular, or at least popular enough to satisfy me. I can throw a party and fill the room with people without too much effort. It's been several years now that this has been true, but I suppose some of the things you believe about yourself as a child never quite go away. (It's the same part of my brain that cannot grasp that I am physically attractive. Despite the fact I had no trouble finding guys who liked me in college, the utter datelessness of high school--including the fact I had to ask eight guys to get someone to go with me to the prom, and my date ended up being one of the guys in my brother's Boy Scout troop--has embedded the idea deep in my brain that I am Not Sexy. False modesty aside, I realize conciously this isn't true. But it's a continual surprise.) So there's a part of me that continues to marvel at the fact that I have a lot of friends, who like me and think I'm neat. And also surprising to that bit of subconcious, they get along well with each other for the most part.
The one big plus of this is that I continue to be grateful for having said friends. It's not something I can take for granted, and I kind of like that. You folks are all lovely people, and a source of wonder and joy to me.
Last night, we went to see David Mamet's A Life in Theater with Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight. Smashingly fabulous. Somewhat below Sir Patrick's full abilities, but he's more than earned the right to take roles that are riduculously fun to play. It was hilarious, one of the funniest plays I've seen. And the costume and set changes were just amazing. The conceit is that it's a bunch of brief scenes of two actors working together over years. Most of it is basically an extended set of the greatest hits of "shit that goes wrong backstage". It's the kind of thing that seems revealing if you've never worked in theater, but if you have done some theater yourself is so very "so funny because it's true" that you're basically falling over laughing. Most scenes are only a few minutes long, so there's a lot of them. And every single one of them involves a costume change. In the space of ten minutes, they would go from WWII uniforms to Russian nobles to Renaissance swordsmen to British businessmen, including changes in wigs and facial hair. The sets included barricades, offices, make up tables, operating theaters, and a boat that actually rocked. Fantastic.
Today we had a Halloween party in which we had many friends wearing some very creative costumes come over and eat a lot of candy. It was absolutely delightful, especially in how well our different friends circles combine and play together.
I was not particularly popular in grade school. Better in high school, but still not popular. If I threw a party, four people came. I had a couple very good friends, one of whom I'm still in close contact with, and all of whom I am grateful for. But not popular.
While I may not hobnob with the rich and famous, somehow as an adult I've become popular, or at least popular enough to satisfy me. I can throw a party and fill the room with people without too much effort. It's been several years now that this has been true, but I suppose some of the things you believe about yourself as a child never quite go away. (It's the same part of my brain that cannot grasp that I am physically attractive. Despite the fact I had no trouble finding guys who liked me in college, the utter datelessness of high school--including the fact I had to ask eight guys to get someone to go with me to the prom, and my date ended up being one of the guys in my brother's Boy Scout troop--has embedded the idea deep in my brain that I am Not Sexy. False modesty aside, I realize conciously this isn't true. But it's a continual surprise.) So there's a part of me that continues to marvel at the fact that I have a lot of friends, who like me and think I'm neat. And also surprising to that bit of subconcious, they get along well with each other for the most part.
The one big plus of this is that I continue to be grateful for having said friends. It's not something I can take for granted, and I kind of like that. You folks are all lovely people, and a source of wonder and joy to me.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 01:52 pm (UTC)From:While I may not hobnob with the rich and famous, somehow as an adult I've become popular, or at least popular enough to satisfy me. I can throw a party and fill the room with people without too much effort. It's been several years now that this has been true, but I suppose some of the things you believe about yourself as a child never quite go away.
I could have written this ENTIRE paragraph. Zoinks.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 01:58 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:01 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2010-11-01 02:48 pm (UTC)From: