The Dangers of Self-Expression

Nowadays, it seems the Thing To Do is express yourself. Well...it's been that way for a while, and I also feel like an Old Fogey for using the word "nowadays". Be that as it may, self-expression is the new self-reliance, which is interesting because Emerson sort of propounded self-expression as an outworking of self-reliance.

Self-expression is now, in fact, a measure of quality. Critics still look at absolute or even relative aesthetic standards when critiquing media, but the question, "Is it real self-expression?" is rapidly overtaking other standards as THE unassailable measure of quality.

If someone doesn't truly express what they're feeling, they're ridiculed as wearing masks. If they do bare their (sometimes hideous) selves, they're lauded for bravery and amazingness, even if what they do express is despicable and disturbing.

I don't know what I'm trying to say here. I guess my point is that sometimes, I don't want to see people express themselves fully and intimately.

Long live meandering!

A Stupid New Movie

Okay, so let me go on record as a fan of Sam Raimi. He did a great job with all three Spiderman movies. But his new horror flick Drag Me To Hell? No. Not.

I do enjoy well-made horror films (which means that I don't enjoy many horror films), but Drag Me To Hell does NOT look well-made, horrifying, or possibly even a film. For starters: the trailer seems to intimate that the reason the evil creepy old lady takes out after the victim is...that she's denied a load extension?

If I'm watching the trailer right, the old lady applies for a loan extension, and the female who is to become her victim has to deliver the bad news that the application has been turned down. So the old lady freaks out and...well, that's the beginning of the end.

Seriously? Gosh. Of course I'm not going to see it...I'd be surprised if it gets 10% on the Tomatometer.

Stupid Hollywood.

Long live movie trailers!

The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

A good song, by the way. I think its inclusion in the first Watchmen trailer was pure genius. Interesting: much of the music in the movie was quite appropriate. No matter what the film's problems, at least it had good music.

But the purpose of this post is not to rave about the music in Watchmen (how about using Simon & Garfunkel's The Sound of Silence during the burial scene? eh?). The purpose of this post is--what is the purpose of this post, again? I've forgotten. If there ever was a purpose.

It's funny how everything is always the same and never the same. I know, I know, this is scraping the bottom of the barrel cliche-wise (by the way, in case you hadn't noticed, "scraping the bottom of the barrel" is a cliche as well), but I've noticed it over the past week. Everything stays the same: finals roll up again, as they do at the end of every semester, and students move out of the res halls, and people break up and hook up, and students graduate and leave behind their college careers forever, or not forever.

And yet everything is winding up for Beginnings already. Student Orientation And Registration (SOAR, very clever and despicably corny) days are thronging through here, and people are getting married, some of them in Omaha, some of them during the run of the fall musical. Schedules are being set for the fall, people are planning their extracurricular activities, and I need to find some people to work backstage for Will Rogers Follies. Interested?

I'm not sure what I'm trying to communicate here. Maybe my point is that we mustn't get too wedded to what we're doing right now, our current situation. We've got to be flexible, able to work with change. I know some people who really can't do that--they're inextricably wedded to the past, the way things used to be, and that really hurts them. I'm trying to stay flexible...it's sorta working. Sorta. But I feel that changes are coming, and coming soon. And that's hard to swallow. (Another cliche there...)

This has been a quiet and introspective post. Not a lot of fun, I fear. I'm sorry, all you my ephemeral readers--not a lot of explosions or swearing or blood and guts. Deal with it: I'm in a quiet and introspective mood.

Yes.

Long live introspection!

Wait, I've used that one before.

Long live the inexorable passage of time, and its effect on our decision-making!

Nah: too long and too stupid.

Let's try this one...

Long live moving on!

There, that works. That works.

LONG LIVE MOVING ON!

Into The Woods--My Opinions

So, as you creepily-stalkerish and ethereal readers of mine are well-aware, I went to see Shorewood High's production of Into the Woods last night. I figured I'd put my thoughts about the show into my blog, for the following and nicely-numbered reasons:

1. I want to preserve my opinions for posterity, and God knows that my brain is not a good place to store things.

2. I can't remember what this reason was.

3. People wanted to know my thoughts. So I decided to blog them (my thoughts) rather than communicating them in a marginally more personal way.

4. I don't want this blog to become a list of what I'm watching on TV at the moment. That ain't cool, nohow.

There, the list is done. On to the thoughts: and please note, this will not be a review. I don't do Reviews. I just do awesome, complicated, random, discernible-only-to-me collections of thoughts. So my thoughts were as follows: I loved the show. Of course it's difficult to judge objectively--to even judge--when one's experiencing a movie or a show for the first time, and I think my emotional and sensory involvement in the experience definitely influenced me favorably.

The singing was...interesting. I thought that for the most part the actors had seriously good voices. Red Riding Hood, for instance, had a delightful voice, as did the Baker, the Baker's Wife, and Cinderella. The Princes, although they didn't have many songs, acquitted themselves well, and the song Agony was my favorite of the entire show. The characters were very present in the songs for the most part, with a few exceptions: singing style, facial expression, physical carriage all signaled the characters quite clearly. The dancing, too, was remarkable for a high school production. Part of this is due to the deceptively simple choreography: there were few numbers with complicated or varied dance steps. But full credit must be given to the dancing abilities of a very talented cast. The physicality of the cast, again with a few exceptions, was remarkable. Not to be overlooked was the performance of the orchestra: I didn't hear a single false note.

The acting was equally praiseworthy: as has been previously mentioned, characters--so important to the show--sprang beautifully to life. The one weak point, if it can be called such, was in enunciation and diction: projection was fine, but some lines were hard to understand. I attribute this to the relative inexperience of the cast.

Technically, the show was marvelous. During one of the songs, the Witch disappeared through a trapdoor in the floor, fog swirling about her, red lights playing about her, cacophonic music whipping wildly from the pit. The spectacle was quite memorable, and Gary Pruitt's work on the show as technical director was unparalleled. Shorewood will sorely miss him (he's retiring, and this was his last show.)

Overall, given the suspect nature of my opinions, I give the show four stars out of five. I will definitely see it again, next time I find somewhere it's playing.

Long live pointless preservation!

Brief Thoughts. Yes, I Said Brief. Meaning, Not Long.

A few brief points before The Great Divorce closes this afternoon at 3:

1. I'm watching a Yanks-Twins game on TBS. Who should I root for? The Yankees are evil and the Twins are evil. Gah!

2. Why does TBS have baseball in its programming? For that matter, why does USA have tennis and the Westminster Kennel Show? Actually, let's go back to the first question--it's more puzzling. USA is more eclectic, but TBS is pretty much comedy.

3. At the restaurant last night--Fishbones in Pewaukee--the waitress brought everyone strings of beads with our drinks, to "get the party started," as she said. Seriously? You think cheap plastic beads are going to snap 4 middle-aged men into a Party? Good griffin.

4. I really really need to post my thoughts on Into the Woods: it was a great show. But I have a Facebook message to compose, and pizza to re-heat...so expect that review later, you figments of my authorial imagination.

Long live long lists!

Where to Begin?

Seriously, where does one begin? (I think there was some movie, maybe Spiderman 1 or 2, where Peter Parker's whining about picking up threads of lives. Moron. But if I could just remember the quote, I'd put it in here. Since I can't, you, my imaginary readership, will just need to be Tantalized.)

How's that working out for ya?

Thought so.

Well, before anything else, I must give madd propz to Twitter for re-hooking me on blogging. Of course, I planned to restart, or reboot, this venue of self-expression once my 22 credit-hours of class and several theatre productions were over and done with, but I was frankly concerned that I wouldn't have the drive to post stuff. Then I remembered that I had signed up for Twitter a while ago (I tend to sign up for things and then forget they exist) and that I could quickly and easily mini-blog using That medium. So I did. And thanks to Twitter, I am now Back In The Saddle with the whole exposing personal details online thing.

Speaking of several theatre productions, this might be a good time for me to inflate my ego and impress all of you nonexistent readers by reckoning the reckoning of different shows in which I've been involved. So, with little further ado:
Alice in Wonderland
Emily
Third
Antigone
2009 ACTstravaganza
The Great Divorce

So yeah...that actually did not inflate my ego much...but when one considers that I worked all those shows in a 5-month period, that's kinda cool. Or something. I guess. Maybe. OH! I got a free Amp this morning. For those of you who don't know what an Amp is, a) I pity you, Foo', and b) it's an energy drink.

I have hulu to be surfing, so we're going to call a halt to this inaugural, or perhaps re-inaugural, post. Peace, all.

(That's funny, because nobody's going to read this.)

Long live Comebacks!

All The World Sat Singing. It's a Parable, Peeps.

All the world sat singing.

They were all dressed in white, and they sang a hymn of praise to the All. For the All had finally conquered the Me and won the victory, and the people were glad. All the world sat singing, and their song was a single melody repeated incessantly—“Glory to the All, for we are All”—repeated incessantly. There was no harmony; there was no need for harmony. The crowd was dressed in white, sameness folds of linen woven in one piece, never a seam to break the flow. There was no color; there was no need for color.

All the world sat singing, and their hymn of praise to the All was never-ending. But in the heart of one small figure in the back of the people there blossomed a note of difference. She was small of stature and big of soul, and her hair was as black as a raven. And to herself she whispered, even as she continued to chant with all the world—to herself she whispered, “Why is there no harmony? Why is there no need for color?”

All the world sat singing, for the All had finally defeated the Me. And though some sages said that the Me would never die, they either changed their thinking or were done away with. For they who said such things were rebelling against the All, and the All must be victorious. The small figure with the big soul and the raven hair knew what happened to the sages, and silently had learned.

All the world stood singing, and their hymn of praise to the All was cloying. The small figure with the big soul and the raven hair chanted with all the world, but the blossom of Me within her was growing. It thrust deep roots into her big soul and drank of its joyous life. It captured her, overwhelmed her, filled her, and burst forth from her mouth in a harmonic jovial cascade. It did not attack the All with its harmony; it joined with the All and enriched it and deepened it, and all the world wondered.

All the world stood wondering as the hymn of praise to the All welled up stronger than ever, not helping the harmony of the Me, but seeking to drown it with sheer volume. But as the small figure with the big soul and the raven hair heard the hymn grow stronger, so too did she raise her voice and the harmony of the Me grew stronger also. And now, somewhere else in the crowd of people, another blossom of harmony and Me burst forth in full bloom in another section of the people, and another, and another. The hymn grew greater and more magnificent as the All was once more dissolved into the Me, and the Me blended to become an All—not the All, but an All. And as the All dissolved, all the world grew afraid and fell silent.

All the world stood silent, the hymn of praise to the All dying on their lips. A few brave souls still sang their harmony, but it was as fine embroidery without a tapestry. The threads of glorious harmony fell down into the wells of silence, distant and dry. Only the small figure with the big soul and the raven hair could still sing, and her voice was dying. She struggled, for she knew that if the song fell silent, the world would perish.

All the world lay dying; the small figure with the big soul and the raven hair could no longer stand upright. She falls to her knees, gasping out the life-giving chant, but she knows that it is hopeless. She totters; her breath comes in great heaving gasps; the dying people around her silently beg with their deafening silence for her to save them, for at least a moment more. She wavers—she falls—a strangled cry from her lips, and all is silence.

All the world lay dead. The All had finally conquered.