On Writers

I feel this obligation to post something before the turn of the new year. My dilemma is that I have no idea what to write about. So, for perhaps the last time this year, I give you a random thought:

There's this podcast to which I subscribe called Reading Rockets. I chose to ignore the goofy title and the odd looks I get from people when they scroll through my iPod in order to bask in the glory of writers talking about writing. Authors of children's literature talking about writing, or illustrating, and how they entered their profession. The need to write runs through nearly every interview, the common thread stitching together the collection of people. These people whose work I read as a child all had the inescapable need to put pen to paper (or finger to key) and write something. I wonder to myself sometimes if I have that same need. I write, yes, but do my musings on this page amount to anything more than rambling?

I don't do a lot of creative writing. For lack of a plot, I instead opt for a record of my daily actions and the interesting things happening to me. And I wonder, could I ever come up with an idea good enough about which to write an entire book?

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It looks like I won't make my goal of 72 posts in 2007. For this New Year's Resolution, 75 posts in 2008. With a little less slacking during the summers, I think this goal is very do-able.

If I don't post again before 2008, Happy New Year!

Becoming Things

My friend from middle school had his college graduation party this evening. Many of my friends from high school and even middle school were there. I had a good time catching up with everyone, but more than anything, it was strange. Everyone looked basically the same, maybe a little older, but somewhere since high school, everyone grew up. We're all becoming something. The answer to the question, "So what are you doing these days?" is no longer, "Oh, you know, getting ready to graduate," it's "Oh, you know, working in a job related to my chosen profession." We've all become something. Teacher, missionary, wife, humanitarian aid worker, professional student.

We jumped that gap from kid to adult without even noticing it. It just kind of happened. It doesn't really feel like it for the most part. Weird.

Random Thoughts

Well, it's nearing the end of this year in which I resolved to post at least six times a month, and if I am to make my goal I will have to post four more after this one. Sadly, I haven't really come up with anything to talk about despite contemplating possible topics for the last week. So, I turn to you, dear reader, to give me something to talk about.

For today's edition of verbal spew, I give you Random Thoughts:

- one of my students poked me on Facebook. I find this a little weird, and am having difficulty deciding what to do in this situation. Shall I poke back, or shall I leave it at this?
- We've finally decided on the spring musical, Once on This Island, composed by the same people that did Ragtime. I dig it.
- There was a cat stuck in the PAC. It was very cute, but I'm glad we got it out, because dead rotting cat corpse is not my favorite odor.
- My students don't like working...ever.

Well, I think I'm done for now. Post suggested topics in the comments.

Sam's Barber Shop

When I was little, my Dad got his hair cut at Sam's Barber Shop in Pulaski. It was this little shop that had the revolving striped poll outside the front door. It smelled like stale smoke and some kind of lubricant. Sam shared the space with his father's clock repair shop. I suspect that's where the lubricant smell came from. It was always full of sound: ticking clocks, the drone of an old radio in the background, small talk between Sam and whoever was in the barber's chair, and thirty different clocks chiming in the hour, half, and quarter hour.

I never really liked going with Dad; little girls don't get their hair cut by barbers. I would sit there and look at the pretty, ill-fated deer in the hunting magazines and watch the demo screen on the Contra arcade game over and over. I always had a book--the Hardy Boys, or Encyclopedia Brown, or Nancy Drew--but I couldn't concentrate for all of the ticking clocks, especially if I was trying to figure out why Encyclopedia knew Bugs Meany was lying (if you're wondering, yes, I Wikipedia-ed it). Sometimes I would play checkers with Keith, but I'm not very good at strategy-type board games, and I got tired of losing pretty quickly. When that happened, I would sit and look at the clocks. All kinds of clocks. Coo-coo clocks, grandfather clocks, old pocket watches, clocks with spinning weights. I wanted to know how they worked, and why some of them had long chains and others didn't, and how a pocket watch could do the same task as the big heavy mantle clocks.

I never really got to find out. We moved before I was old enough to understand any of that, and I doubt I would have bothered finding out.

While I'm Thinking About It...

Have I mentioned that I think high schoolers are probably the strangest beings on earth? It didn't seem so bad when I was that old. Then again, I was in the smart kid classes without the craziness and the psycho parents. Or maybe just the craziness.

Anyway, just thought I'd share that while I was thinking about it. And if you're wondering, yes, there is a story behind it. I'd share, but well, I don't think that's wise.

The Aftermath

I got home today around 6:00pm. Driving home, I fought the rush hour traffic and watched the sky turn pink and orange in my rear view mirror. It was strange. It still is strange. I can hardly believe that it's only 9:45 and I've been home for several hours. "Christmas Carol" is finally over.

I hoped to go home right after school today, maybe get some work done, grade some stuff that I've been hauling around for several weeks in anticipation of some spare time in which to finalize my notes on their feedback, but it was not to be. The dressing rooms, back hallway, and my classroom are all a complete mess from having 25 people in and out of them all weekend. So, in an effort to get ready for school tomorrow, and to get the costumes prepped to leave tomorrow, I went to main campus and worked. I didn't realize how much I had been neglecting my actual job (teaching) for the last month until I saw the grades for my main campus classes. I hadn't given them a grade for more than three weeks. Not even participation. It took me two hours to figure out what it is that we've been doing since Thanksgiving break (not much). I'm also wondering what I'm going to put on my lesson plans. We didn't really do anything because I was working on the show.

The show itself went really well. I think we had over 300 people come total, which I consider a success since the publicity for this show was basically non-existent. All the feedback I've heard so far has been only positive, and it's my hope that we've started building a solid foundation for whatever it is we're going to do in the near future. Plus, we made a fair amount of money, so perhaps I can go buy gaff and spike tape, and tie line and maybe even start saving for the spring musical (or play...whatever we end up doing).

Each night of the show had it's own problems. Thursday we had a girl pass out because she had to cough, but wouldn't do it into the mic she was wearing so she held it in. Friday another girl passed out because she hadn't eaten all day. Saturday the lights guy didn't show up (or even call for that matter) and I had to do it with my limited knowledge of lights and our particular board.

Usually after a show there is this feeling of longing for it to continue, the wish for just one more night. I can honestly say that I have experienced no such feeling. In its place rests the sensation of relief. It's over. I can think about something else now; Districts, or fund raisers, or what show we're going to do next. The things which have lived in the back of my mind are finally free to burst forth and have their moment in the sun. How long they will have in the sun, I am not sure. I do have to teach and plan lessons at some point in time. But not right now, not for a few days at least.

Show Week

It's generally acknowledge that show week sucks for everyone involved. I have the feeling that the typical anxiety is magnified this time since we are most certainly not ready. If I could, I would push back the date, but that would mean living with this feeling for another week, and frankly, I don't think my nerves could handle it, and the PAC is booked for the rest of the month anyway. As opening night approaches, I feel more and more like I'm missing something important; not for lack of planning, but lack of knowledge.

I was over in the office the other day, trying to figure out some paperwork regarding tickets (which I don't really understand), and the bookkeeper handed me a sheet which I assume I was supposed to fill out at some point in time but didn't for lack of knowing that I had to. So, tomorrow morning I have to figure out what paperwork I missed, and what other things I have to do to get this show on the road. I have a suspicion that it involves money and paying for security and custodial services. More money. Have I mentioned that I hate money and hate dealing with it?

I'm getting more and more frustrated that I don't have a manual that tells me all of this. To my knowledge there isn't anything that walks you through how to reserve the PAC, or arrange for custodians to come in, or hire security for an event. Having to ask my department head is getting frustrating to me. I don't like bothering people, see, and taking her entire lunch period asking questions seems like a bother to me. That's one of the reasons I like books, I can't bother books.

A week from today, the show will be over, and I can finally relax and go back to teaching, because I haven't been doing much of that lately.