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I like all of them.

You wrote it, Brunstetter. Thar it is.

Ladies and gents, Miss Mandy Barker!  Not only can she Payable the Accounts –  or whatever it is that she does for the company – she can run, too! And also, bike and swim. This weekend, she completed the Staten Island triatholon, and didn’t even come in last place! I hate to take it here but, ‘you ‘go’ girl.’ Literally, you Go. On foot, on land, in water. Applause, Applause! (I’m very very proud of her.)

 Last night I went to Chisel as per usual, but found a Sub teacher there – which is always sort of a downer. Will this person be lethargic? Irksomely energetic? Will he/she play a lot of lesbian techno, or have no sense of rhythm??? This dude seemed aight, though – until he asked all of to grab a Bosu Ball:

These things are always stacked in the closet with the weights. But I’d never quite ‘gone there.’ I’d give them one look and say, Yep, I will pretty much NOT be doing that. I mean, we are pretty much afraid of things we do not understand: Foreign Countries. Death. One half of bouncy ball on platform-thing. So, I was skeptical.

But sub-dude led us through a bunch of crazy exercises with the Bosu, such as:

And, how do I put this?  OW. ow ow ow ow ow ow.

But in that awesome sort of way. The thing with the Bosu is that you’re constantly struggling to not fall over or off of it, rendering yourself the class D-bag, so you’re constantly working – so hard.  It hurts to sit.  (And I like it.)

(I am about to extend the CRAP out of this metaphor.)

Tech for Oohrah! starts today so I thought I would gush about how it’s totally my favorite thing, and how it has always been. For all of you who choose to do things with your lives that do NOT involve the drama play, I will explain: Tech is when the lights, sound, props and costumes meet weeks of table and scene work. For ten hours a day, 3 days straight – things truly start to come together.  Warm light cues are built, things break, sounds happen, minds are lost, and about 5,356 gummy bears are eaten.

I love sitting there in the back of the slightly cold theater in the blue light, as people yell at each other – as light cues are built, creating a plethora of places, as actors, for the first time, sit on their actual bed – use the actual prop. And then suddenly, or – eventually – there it is. The way it was, in my mind, now actualized in front of me. What I meant, and had been imagining – right there.

Best. Feeling. Ever.

I finally tried the super cheap hair cut at the Aveda Institute – where a student chopper does your do for like $25 bucks. Nice. It’s fancy joint and smells nice, and things.

Sure, they rub your hair down with honey-esque things and essence of stuff – sure, they play regina spektor remixes and give you tea and sport tattoos of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Sure, they are cool, at Aveda. But lurking beneath their scissors….

MOM HAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Really, Cynthia? I haven’t had my hair flipped out since they 90′s. Precisely who do you think I am?

(PS I don’t hate it THAT much, though I do appear to be trying to eat my own face. My hair now smells, and feels, amazing. Also – my Mom is a good looking gal.)

Maybe it is totally backwards to willingly admit this but – many times I am just writing and writing. And then I stop and read and think, holy crap – that is actually incredibly true. And then, I have a moment about it.

FANCY PANTS

Doing the thing that I do!

Photo by Robert Teten.