Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Well, at least it wasn't the Mexican Hat Dance...

This is what happened when I phoned my husband last Monday. In my defense Mondays at my job are extremely stressful and busy. I tend to forget exactly what time it is. I don't normally post about someone else's post, but when he wrote it last night, he emailed it to me. I was laughing so hard I had to restart reading through it four times. By the end I was crying.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

I like a good flick as much as the next person, although perhaps not in the same way.

I appreaciate nothing more than a good story. I love it. I live it. I am swallowed up by it and I svaor every detail. It drives my husband nuts because I nitpick because I love the details so. This is what makes me a good director. It's part of what makes me a good actor as well. There are a lot of people out there who think movies are a bastard art. I can appreciate that, I prefer the stage myself too, but I like it all. Unfortunately, my appreciate sometimes means I appreciate things I don't enjoy or I enjoy things I don't appreciate.
Tonight I watched Lord of War. It was a good story, but I did not enjoy it. I'm glad I saw it, but I will never watch it again. I'll admit it, I am a girl. I don't get queasy from violence, but I don't like to watch it, when it's shown onscreen I am the girl who flinches and the only reason I don't turn away is because I want to take in the movie in its entirety...and well, I do have my pride.
As we left the theatre I saw a poster for Proof, by David Auburn, a local boy made good I suppose. He won a Pulitzer for this play when I was a junior in college. My senior year I was so in love with his script that I chose that play for a dramaturg project. This is where I begin to hate loving the details. What I found was that his details don't work. His math, his "research" is shitty, there is simply no other word. I still love the play. I love the relationships, I love the characters, I love the story and the telling of it. However it bothers me deeply that he won a Pulitzer for a play which was not properly researched and that his justification for not doing the work is that he wanted the common man to undertstand his play. I can understand that since the play is about mathematicians and most of us (myself included) can't even begin to fathom that type of thinking. The problem is that some people will understand, they will know it doesn't work and once you realize that, the foundation of the story begins to unravel.
I suppose I will still go see Proof, because I can't stop loving it even as much as it bothers me, but I wonder if I will be able to enjoy it.

Friday, September 16, 2005

a blogger by any other name

Obviously, (or perhaps not) my given name as well as the name I go by is not Dunyasha.

Like many people I choose to affect a different name for my blog persona. This is not the only place I use the name, but it suits the situation well. Why Dunyasha? An unusual Russian name for a French/Irish/American? My BA is in acting/playwriting. In undergrad, the first decent-sized speaking role I had was in the classic The Cherry Orchard by Anton Chekhov. My role was that of the maid, Dunyasha, a flighty girl who is crushed out on another servant and in our production conceived an illegitimate child with him. Dunyasha was not my favorite role I have ever played, but I still thoroughly enjoyed the part. The director was one of the best I have ever worked for and the play spurs the intellect I can't deny deep within.

More than a year after that play was finished The Acting Company performed at my school. After their show my classmates went drinking with the actors and ended up partying after hours in the hotel room of one of the actors. I was very involved with the man who would become my husband already, but that didn't stop me from being dead hot for the man whose room we were hanging in. As the party progressed I found myself sitting off in a corner chatting with him, and this is the point where I reveal my utter dorkiness. Everyone else in the room was shitfaced, just having fun, Christian and I? We were discussing the merits of brilliant dramatists such as Shakespeare and Chekhov. We agreed that Chekhov was one of our favorites because there is so much room to delve into the details.

The part that makes me really dorky? He was hotter to me because of his intellect and knowledge of theatre and music.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Insecure Comdienne

On my honeymoon my husband and were laughing, when I cracked a joke. When he laughed at my comment, I turned to him and said "why are you laughing at me??" At his incredulous look I added, "I'm not funny." The fact that he knew I was being serious cracked him up even more. For months afterward whenever I made a joke, he would look at me accusingly, "what are you doing?? You know you're not funny."

IF we do ever have children, let's hope they're not insecure.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Coffee beans ...err....noodles?

The other day I was running late getting ready for work.

well... that's a bit of an understatement. About twice a week I run so late in the mornings my brain ceases to function what with all the freaking out going on inside it. To prevent this I carry around an egg timer which I set at five or ten minute intervals every morning so I am constantly reminded of what time it is. Some mornings it works better than others.

On one of these bad mornings last week while I was trying to figure out how to simultaneously pee, put on makeup, find my id badge, make lunch and coffee; my husband was sweet enough to make the coffee for me. He even washed the mug, well most of it.

I got to work, opened the top of the lid to find crusties. Well I couldn't deal with that, but I needed the coffee so I decided to pour it into the mug I keep at my desk for tea. As I was pouring I saw something odd plunk into my mug. After staring, scared, at the mug for a moment I found a plastic fork and dragged out...a macaroni noodle.

My husband's response when I asked him how it got there?

"Shhh, that's the secret ingredient!"

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

The Mother Down Under

This post was supposed to be entitled reasons my mother in law is better than yours, unfortunately I seem to have made an error.

My husband's mother was born and lived for the first ten years of her life in New Zealand. Yes, that's right that teeny two-island nation everyone thought of as an afterthought to Australia, if they remembered it until The Lord of the Rings came out. The one that takes a flight to California and then a 13-hour flight to get to. I thought that was pretty cool, until she started trying to convince us to move there because she wanted to move back. Most newlyweds get harrassed by their familes to have babies, we get harrassed to move halfway across the globe.

A few months ago I noticed after I pointed out that if we moved I would be leaving my entire family behind she stopped pestering us. I thought maybe she had given up on the idea since she was no longer pointing out how no matter where yu live you're always at least within 2 hours of the ocean and that you can pretty much have whatever climate you'd like depending on whether you live on the northern or southern island.

Last weekend she mentioned that she had budgeted money so that when she moves a year from now she can fly us over once a year. She also told us she budgeted money so she could fly herself over twice a year to see us.

Great. Now instead of being my awesome mother in law who lives 2 hours away she's going to be my distant mother in law who invades my apartment twice a year.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

fight the virus!

My father-in-law is getting married. This is exciting for a few reasons, namely he's really happy, I'm his wedding planner, we really like her, I'm his wedding planner, and, um, I'm his wedding planner. My husband and I had dinner with his dad and fiancee to talk about their plans for this wedding and what they had in mind. My in-laws separated the day I met them back when the hubby and I had been dating for only a couple months and divorced a year or two later. I always expected one or both of them to remarry, however at this dinner I heard something I never expected to hear from my father-in-law's new spouse:

"Just please don't get pregnant before me."


...if she only knew that the hubby and I refer to having children as "the virus" people are trying to infect us with.