A Sudden Shift

Did you survive a plane crash recently?
With your tie askew and your waist purple and bruised from the plane's seatbelt that you thought you'd never need, did you sit amongst the gasping and crying, your oxygen mask bobbing in front of your sudden stillness?
If so, did you immediately think, "I should be fucking women besides my wife," or did that come later?
That's the shock talking; she's the best thing to ever happen to you. 
You should be fucking other women, but that's an experience to be shared and discussed with her, in a trusting, openly-communicated environment.
They call it "swinging", and a lot of people who survived plane crashes are practicing it right now, this minute, in hot tubs all over the world.
This could be you.
Here's hoping you all get to where you're going safely.

Stand By Your Mixtapes

I make no apologies for my musical tastes or history.
You shouldn't either.
I've heard several people with arts degrees rationalize to one another why it's "okay" to be into Taylor Swift, or Perry or whoever.
I miss the era that none of us lived through when you listened to music because you yourself thought it sounded good.
Don't let the fans force you to shelter your playlist under a blanket with the lights out as if you're hiding smokes from your parents.
Even if 99% of an artist's fans are hard-ons, that doesn't mean that you are.
Even if the artist is a hard-on and you enjoy their sound, that doesn't mean you have anything to be embarrassed about.
It's just music. That's separate from all of the bullshit that comes with musicians.
I really love Flashing Lights, but I think that Kanye would benefit (actually benefit) from being horribly disfigured somehow. Like, if he lost an eye or something. Here's a dope MC who just doesn't have his head on right.
Death Cab For Cutie is one of my favourite bands, and I know that they're all card-carrying, hardcore vegans.
I love their music, however that doesn't mean I have to like them too, or stand by "where they're coming from."
Frankly, I'm not sure I'd want to share a bus ride with them. 



(The poor fellow doing vocals here, Tony Sly, died in 2012).



edit: This should go without saying, but to avoid potential lawsuits, please remember that if you are in fact hiding smokes from your parents, never light them under a blanket.
Otherwise, enjoy!

Played Out

It's today now.

So, we did the play.
Incredibly.
Seven weeks. Everyone memorized what they needed to memorize (I myself could recite the play for you, if you'd like, inflecting every student's inflection), painted what they had to paint, and did what they had to do.
The lighting guy did our lights, even though he didn't come to any practices and decided two weeks from showtime that he was going to go to a hockey tournament instead.
He changed his mind of his own accord. I told him to do what he wanted.
He won best lighting at the awards ceremony on Saturday afternoon.
That wasn't all, either.
We actually did pretty well.
Max won best lighting, which I went up to receive after coming back from the bathroom, having no idea what I was receiving.
"We won something? What did we win?"
When I found out, I made him come up onstage. I'd been calling him my 'man on the lights' from the moment he said he wanted to do the lighting.
Lauren won best supporting actress (junior), which she didn't expect because she covered her mouth the way girls do when they win something they weren't expecting.
Sebastian was nominated for best supporting for playing the main character's dad and that was awesome because he only had about five lines or so.
Cameron was nominated for best actor.
We were nominated for best junior play, which was pretty sweet, and even yours truly managed to go home with 'best original script', which I told myself I didn't care about winning, even though I did.
Here's a picture from the after-party:

Sarah also won something (post-humus!), an award that recognizes teachers/volunteers who contribute to drama on the whole.
I nominated her, telling everyone that she was a 'shoe-in' because she's dead (relax, she would have laughed at that), which proved to be true.
I left the theater and looked at my shitty little award in the passenger seat, welling up a bit.
Despite my best efforts, I actually managed to do something I said I was going to do.
I affected people.

I elicited change. I honored my friend.
And I left it all way too late, which she also probably would have done.
Someone asked me what's next after this project.
I have no idea, but perhaps I'll say that I'll do something else and then actually do it.
Who knows?
In the meantime, we'll perform the play again for the parents next month some time.
I'm looking forward to it.
All this effort, it's about time I get the opportunity to flirt with some moms...

Air Force Hole-In-One

How exciting was this round of golf that happened for some lucky rubes in California?
Imagine having a vintage World War II plane crash-land on the green, only to see Harrison Ford climb out of it, all bruised up and confused.
"Well, if a fuckin' plane lands on the course, I'm sure I'm supposed to get a mulligan.
Yes I am! Check the rules, I'm sure that's in the ru - holy shit, it's Harrison Ford!"

In other, less glamorous news, the kids perform their play for the festival tomorrow morning.
Which is incredible. It's incredible that this day actually showed up and that it's tomorrow.
I have no idea how we'll do.
The kids know the play, but did the writer write one that's long enough?
And did the director design an efficient set?
In this case, both of those people are me.