I have been asked numerous times over the past year, "Why do you ask for things on Facebook?" In all honestly, it's a fair question. The answer I give is a simple one, "Why not?"
Saying that seems like such a simple answer, but I still find my self wondering how it looks to people. Will they wonder why I'm asking in such a public manner? How will it be viewed? Will it seem like begging? It is something that I might possibly have a hope of getting? Blah, blah, blah... There are so many potential self-doubting questions that if I allowed myself to ask them all I would never ask my questions on Facebook.
However, when you think about it, "Why not?" is a perfectly valid response. Especially here in America.
Take a look at your neighbors. Look at their "stuff". Is it old? Worn out? Perhaps looking a bit shabby? Okay, probably some of your neighbors might have a few things that way, if they are anything like people I have lived around and known for the umpteen years of my life the bulk of the things they own are newer. The funny thing is, they may not even notice it themselves. There is a lifestyle of consumerism in America that pervades nearly everyone we know. It's not purposeful, but we have been raised in it. We are cajoled into it through media, We are taught that it's what we are supposed to do from the day we are able to understand any form of advertising. Buy more! Get more! Upgrade! Everything is disposable.
Honestly, I don't mind if my neighbors/friends/coworkers have the newer/faster/brighter thing. If I have what I need to make my life happy, I"m good, and good for them. They may need a few more things than I do. That's okay. But back to my question, "Why do you ask for things on Facebook?" Well, if people are upgrading and replacing the things they have, what is happening to all of the old stuff? If these neighbors/friends/coworkers of mine are anything like me they probably have half of it just sitting around in case they may need it. And then it's eventually forgotten about. And then replacement number three comes along and it starts again.
Disposable.
I come from a small town. I am the odd blend of my college-employed family and my farm-working friends I grew up with. A tree-hugging hick. I like to recycle. I enjoy taking care of the earth we walk upon. Have an old pallet? I'll turn it into a bench or a dresser. You get the idea. I gave up the notion that I would have all new things years ago when I realized I could be perfectly happy with things that are one or two iterations behind cutting-edge.
So, here we are as a nation with more stuff just tossed in our closets sitting around collecting dust than many other countries have access to. I'm pretty sure if I were to ransack a few of my friends' houses I would be able to come up with more spare computing power than I would truly know what to do with. Look in some other peoples' houses and I might find enough cookware to start three separate restaurants. In still other homes I may be able to stock a small used clothing store (some of it with clothing that has never left the original hanger).
So that's just it. I ask, because odds are somebody has something I may be able to use. I ask because they probably barely remember having it and so haven't even bothered to get rid of it. I ask because it is a simple form of recycling.
Hand-me-downs.
No shame there. I had them as a kid. My kids have them now. And why not? When it comes down to it the idea is perfect. If you aren't using something, you aren't going to use it again, you aren't even going to bother getting rid of it.... why not give it to someone who wants it? To someone who needs it?
And in my world, it goes both ways. I am a user of hand-me-downs and I am a giver of them as well. I have things that I have stopped using. Either I have grown out of them (literally and figuratively) or they are simply no longer of use to me. Much of it I donate to charity (ARC, Value Village, Goodwill.....) but some of it just kind of gets tucked aside because I "might" use it someday. Those things are my hand-me-downs that will go out when I hear someone else ask on Facebook (or in real life too), "Hey, does anyone have _____ that they aren't using?"
Yes. Yes I do. Here you go.
I don't ask for financial gain. I don't give for financial gain. I just ask and give. Pass things along. Will I sell things that I have made? Absolutely. But if someone asks me if I have a used item that I don't need anymore then chances are it will become their used item. I would rather it were used instead of sitting gathering dust.
Hopefully that answers people's questions. Buy what you want to buy. Use what you need. Share what you can. Recycle things that you no longer want. Don't worry about having the newest, flashiest thing. Instead focus on what makes your life truly good. Use the the things you have and then share the things you no longer use.
We can't all live simply, but at times is nice to just simply live.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Something Amazing
For the past five weeks my wife has been gone. In that time I have had to be single father, sole money maker, cook, cleaner, cheerleader, doctor, taxi driver, and so many other things. All of which I do so willingly.
During the time of my wife's absence she has been off working on a professional theatre production on the other side of the state. For years I have told her that I think she is by far the most talent actor that I know. You may say I am swayed by the fact that I married to her, but it is something that I said long before we were married.
Two and a half weeks of rehearsal with full day schedules. This wasn't just "play", but serious work. A true job. Comparing this to what many of us do in community theatre would be like comparing flying a Boeing Dreamliner to flying a paper airplane. This is not to say that community theatre is not work, but what she has been doing is a whole different level of commitment.
So, two and half weeks of rehearsal with three weeks of performance. It doesn't seem like the longest run. Almost easy if you think of the total duration. But I know otherwise. I heard the strain, the panic, the stress, the hope, the separation from the family, and the chaos of getting up to opening night. There is always the question asked, "Is this worth it?" I'm never surprised when I hear that question. I know it's coming.
Opening night came and I took my drive to the other side. Five hours of sitting behind the wheel after a day of seven hours behind the wheel of the company truck. Why? Because that is what you do. Well, that is what I do. I made it to the theatre and had a few moments to see the lovely woman who deigned to marry me over a year prior. And then I had to wait. Wait for the curtain. Wait for the lights to dim. Wait for her to arrive on the boards. Wait for the proof that I was right.
I have had multiple experiences working with my wife on stage. We have played opposite each other, been in the chorus together, produced shows together, and a myriad of other varieties. I have also had the chance to watch her perform a multitude of times. Each time I watch her through rehearsals to performances I learn something. Many things. There is something about watching someone who is both a well-trained actor and a natural actor that is incredible. The past five years have been so good for my own performance skills because I have been able to benefit from all that I have learned from her.
So the lights came up and the show began. The problem is, I didn't see my wife on stage. There was a family, more than slightly broken, with a mother trying to keep it from falling further apart. This woman obviously had setbacks in her life. Her body had been skewed over time and listed a bit due to the repetitive nature of all the tasks she did for years in the home. She had habitual mannerisms from who she had been over the past decades of her marriage. There was a stubbornness in her that gave hints at an inner strength and resolve to move forward no matter what life threw at her. There were moments of bitter anger, joy and youthful exuberance, sadness, hope, perseverance, and love. There was a mother who would do anything for the sake of her family, even if it meant ignoring pains and hurts of both the physical and emotional kind.
I wanted to write about this performance that night. I wanted to tell you that it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen my wife do. But I couldn't. Not then. I needed the rest of the people to see it and make their own judgement.
But it was. I was completely blown away. There is no question in my mind that this was by far the best piece of work that I have seen her do. She made me cry and laugh within the same hour and moved the story along to tell the tale of this woman. She did it with both brutal honesty and skill. And yet, I couldn't see her "act". She just "was" and it was beautiful.
For those of you who saw this show, I am happy you were able to experience it. For those who did not, I am sorry you missed out on the opportunity.
I write this in celebration of my wife. Of her skill, of her work, of her perseverance. Samantha, you are the inspiration in my life and the love of it as well. I applaud your work and I will always continue to support it. You are the most incredible woman and I am proud to live with you, work with you, love with you, and spend my life with you.
And to answer the earlier question, yes. It was definitely worth it.
Broadway Bound, 2014
Interplayers Theater
Spokane, WA
During the time of my wife's absence she has been off working on a professional theatre production on the other side of the state. For years I have told her that I think she is by far the most talent actor that I know. You may say I am swayed by the fact that I married to her, but it is something that I said long before we were married.
Two and a half weeks of rehearsal with full day schedules. This wasn't just "play", but serious work. A true job. Comparing this to what many of us do in community theatre would be like comparing flying a Boeing Dreamliner to flying a paper airplane. This is not to say that community theatre is not work, but what she has been doing is a whole different level of commitment.
So, two and half weeks of rehearsal with three weeks of performance. It doesn't seem like the longest run. Almost easy if you think of the total duration. But I know otherwise. I heard the strain, the panic, the stress, the hope, the separation from the family, and the chaos of getting up to opening night. There is always the question asked, "Is this worth it?" I'm never surprised when I hear that question. I know it's coming.
Opening night came and I took my drive to the other side. Five hours of sitting behind the wheel after a day of seven hours behind the wheel of the company truck. Why? Because that is what you do. Well, that is what I do. I made it to the theatre and had a few moments to see the lovely woman who deigned to marry me over a year prior. And then I had to wait. Wait for the curtain. Wait for the lights to dim. Wait for her to arrive on the boards. Wait for the proof that I was right.
I have had multiple experiences working with my wife on stage. We have played opposite each other, been in the chorus together, produced shows together, and a myriad of other varieties. I have also had the chance to watch her perform a multitude of times. Each time I watch her through rehearsals to performances I learn something. Many things. There is something about watching someone who is both a well-trained actor and a natural actor that is incredible. The past five years have been so good for my own performance skills because I have been able to benefit from all that I have learned from her.
So the lights came up and the show began. The problem is, I didn't see my wife on stage. There was a family, more than slightly broken, with a mother trying to keep it from falling further apart. This woman obviously had setbacks in her life. Her body had been skewed over time and listed a bit due to the repetitive nature of all the tasks she did for years in the home. She had habitual mannerisms from who she had been over the past decades of her marriage. There was a stubbornness in her that gave hints at an inner strength and resolve to move forward no matter what life threw at her. There were moments of bitter anger, joy and youthful exuberance, sadness, hope, perseverance, and love. There was a mother who would do anything for the sake of her family, even if it meant ignoring pains and hurts of both the physical and emotional kind.
I wanted to write about this performance that night. I wanted to tell you that it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen my wife do. But I couldn't. Not then. I needed the rest of the people to see it and make their own judgement.
But it was. I was completely blown away. There is no question in my mind that this was by far the best piece of work that I have seen her do. She made me cry and laugh within the same hour and moved the story along to tell the tale of this woman. She did it with both brutal honesty and skill. And yet, I couldn't see her "act". She just "was" and it was beautiful.
For those of you who saw this show, I am happy you were able to experience it. For those who did not, I am sorry you missed out on the opportunity.
I write this in celebration of my wife. Of her skill, of her work, of her perseverance. Samantha, you are the inspiration in my life and the love of it as well. I applaud your work and I will always continue to support it. You are the most incredible woman and I am proud to live with you, work with you, love with you, and spend my life with you.
And to answer the earlier question, yes. It was definitely worth it.
Broadway Bound, 2014
Interplayers Theater
Spokane, WA
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Bearers of the plague
We are a plague house. Not literally, but everyone here is sharing the same cold/virus. I believe Samantha had it first, Lorelai got it second, then Perrin, and most recently me. It's not a pleasant one. It hits the head, sinuses, throat and chest, all while producing large amounts of various nastiness. Sound like fun? We can assure you it is not.
I've felt bad for Samantha. She has been working non-stop and doing a show at the same time. Being sick in a normal show is bad enough, add singing to it and it all just becomes that much harder. Pair that with still recovering from a very recent surgical procedure. I am amazed with all she does despite what life throws at her.
And there there's the kids. They've both been coughing and sneezing generally being completely miserable. It has been obvious they have not felt good for the past few days. Neither has had excessive appetite, both have been very clingy, and the level of discontent over the slightest pain/problem/displeasure has increased exponentially.
As for me, it hit fully yesterday morning and then progressed during the course of the day. Come night time there was all the joyous burning sinuses a man could handle. So I ache, I feel lethargic, it hurts to swallow and I'm excessively nauseous. You know, all the usual stuff. But for the past week I've been the one taking care of the sick ones. Being sick is not allowed to slow me down.
At 3:45 in the morning my pseudo-sleep is disturbed by crying from the children's room. (This is the third night in a row.) So I get up quickly, because I want Samantha to keep sleeping so she can get healthy and I don't want whichever child it is to have to sit there crying for long. One of them has managed a bloody nose from sinus pressure and is miserable. The next half hour is spent getting them cleaned up, calmed down, dosed on children's cold/cough medicine, and eventually back to bed. At this point the other is already crying as they too feel miserable and have been woken up by the commotion. So, they also get comforted, dosed, and put back to bed. Now it's back to bed for me. Not to sleep, just to bed. Despite the medicine at least one, if not both children, remains coughing continuously in their sleep for the rest of the night. I know the duration because I spend the night listening to them. Not in frustration, but because I am not able to sleep due to my own cold and because I want to make sure they are okay. If there is crying I will be back in there. Come around 7 a.m. I managed to fall asleep for an hour or so and then it's up again and time to get everyone fed and the day started.
I will admit I'm exhausted and tired and sore and worn out and stressed and achy and frayed and a whole host of other things. However. I am also happy. This is my family. It is my job to take care of them. These are my kids. I know they were not born to me. They have another father as well. But I have looked after them for the past two years. I have helped shape who they are so far and will continue to do so long into the future. I have worked to feed them, dress them, educate them, protect them, and nurture them. Years ago I did not know how to do this. I didn't think I could. Now I know it's not a matter of being able to do so. It is simply a matter of doing it. Why? Because they need it. Because I want to do it. Because it is the absolute best thing I can do.
I love my family. I love my life.
But God I hate this cold.
I've felt bad for Samantha. She has been working non-stop and doing a show at the same time. Being sick in a normal show is bad enough, add singing to it and it all just becomes that much harder. Pair that with still recovering from a very recent surgical procedure. I am amazed with all she does despite what life throws at her.
And there there's the kids. They've both been coughing and sneezing generally being completely miserable. It has been obvious they have not felt good for the past few days. Neither has had excessive appetite, both have been very clingy, and the level of discontent over the slightest pain/problem/displeasure has increased exponentially.
As for me, it hit fully yesterday morning and then progressed during the course of the day. Come night time there was all the joyous burning sinuses a man could handle. So I ache, I feel lethargic, it hurts to swallow and I'm excessively nauseous. You know, all the usual stuff. But for the past week I've been the one taking care of the sick ones. Being sick is not allowed to slow me down.
At 3:45 in the morning my pseudo-sleep is disturbed by crying from the children's room. (This is the third night in a row.) So I get up quickly, because I want Samantha to keep sleeping so she can get healthy and I don't want whichever child it is to have to sit there crying for long. One of them has managed a bloody nose from sinus pressure and is miserable. The next half hour is spent getting them cleaned up, calmed down, dosed on children's cold/cough medicine, and eventually back to bed. At this point the other is already crying as they too feel miserable and have been woken up by the commotion. So, they also get comforted, dosed, and put back to bed. Now it's back to bed for me. Not to sleep, just to bed. Despite the medicine at least one, if not both children, remains coughing continuously in their sleep for the rest of the night. I know the duration because I spend the night listening to them. Not in frustration, but because I am not able to sleep due to my own cold and because I want to make sure they are okay. If there is crying I will be back in there. Come around 7 a.m. I managed to fall asleep for an hour or so and then it's up again and time to get everyone fed and the day started.
I will admit I'm exhausted and tired and sore and worn out and stressed and achy and frayed and a whole host of other things. However. I am also happy. This is my family. It is my job to take care of them. These are my kids. I know they were not born to me. They have another father as well. But I have looked after them for the past two years. I have helped shape who they are so far and will continue to do so long into the future. I have worked to feed them, dress them, educate them, protect them, and nurture them. Years ago I did not know how to do this. I didn't think I could. Now I know it's not a matter of being able to do so. It is simply a matter of doing it. Why? Because they need it. Because I want to do it. Because it is the absolute best thing I can do.
I love my family. I love my life.
But God I hate this cold.
Monday, January 30, 2012
That's a ballgame of a different color, right?
I'm a theatre person, right? I did my first show at the age of 5 (if I remember correctly). I lost count of the number of shows I have done, but my best estimate is in the high eighties/low nineties. I feel that's pretty darn respectable, especially considering I took a few multi-year breaks over the span of my theatre "career". So then doing another show should be a breeze.
Not really.
Honestly, straight plays scare the crap out of me. I did a number of them years ago. I was... fair. Pretty much what I did from the time I was 19 until I was 37 were musicals. Lots and lots of musicals. Some good, some great, a few that I will never mention again, and even a couple of small operas.... but all involved singing. I can sing. I know I can do that. Acting is a different matter.
Yes, I know, there is acting involved in musical theatre, but in truth there is a lot less expected from a musical theatre actor than there is from a "straight" actor. (Side note, unrelated: Why is it a "straight play"? Are musicals considered "bent" plays? Ok, digression over.) I have done many shows where the focus has been strictly on the singing. It was completely acceptable if the "actor" simply stood there are sung prettily. (This is not to say that this is ALWAYS the case. I know many musical theatre actors who are amazing!) In this case, I am not meaning to discus other actors, merely myself. I feel I can hold my own on stage and create an acceptable character, but I in no way hold any grandiose ideas that I am amazing or professional.
(refocus, back to topic)
Straight plays scare the crap out of me. Did I mention that already? Yep, there it is... two paragraphs up. And here I am embarking on a new one. It's a sizable role too. When I first looked it over I'm sure I blanched a little. Nobody was watching, so I was safe. My first thought? "Holy crap! That's a lot of me on stage." Then I skimmed for monologues. None. This should be a good thing, right?
Wrong.
I like monologues. They are good chunks of time where you are the only one talking. (Duh.) This means you can't really screw anyone else up. Oh, and you don't have to wait for someone else to cue your next line. I like this. It's like memorizing a good little tale and then being the storyteller.
There are no monologues. Just lots of little lines. Some very interesting little lines. Many of them very important. Many of them numbers. Oh lord. Did I mention I'm a little nervous about it? Yeah, I am. Maybe I can convince them to throw a little song and dance number in there.
Ok, I can do this. Just bear with me. This may come up again later. In the meantime, if anyone feels like starting a petition to get me a quick little song tossed in feel free. Just make sure you get a decent amount of names and then address the petition to Soozie. Thanks! Wish me luck.
- B
Not really.
Honestly, straight plays scare the crap out of me. I did a number of them years ago. I was... fair. Pretty much what I did from the time I was 19 until I was 37 were musicals. Lots and lots of musicals. Some good, some great, a few that I will never mention again, and even a couple of small operas.... but all involved singing. I can sing. I know I can do that. Acting is a different matter.
Yes, I know, there is acting involved in musical theatre, but in truth there is a lot less expected from a musical theatre actor than there is from a "straight" actor. (Side note, unrelated: Why is it a "straight play"? Are musicals considered "bent" plays? Ok, digression over.) I have done many shows where the focus has been strictly on the singing. It was completely acceptable if the "actor" simply stood there are sung prettily. (This is not to say that this is ALWAYS the case. I know many musical theatre actors who are amazing!) In this case, I am not meaning to discus other actors, merely myself. I feel I can hold my own on stage and create an acceptable character, but I in no way hold any grandiose ideas that I am amazing or professional.
(refocus, back to topic)
Straight plays scare the crap out of me. Did I mention that already? Yep, there it is... two paragraphs up. And here I am embarking on a new one. It's a sizable role too. When I first looked it over I'm sure I blanched a little. Nobody was watching, so I was safe. My first thought? "Holy crap! That's a lot of me on stage." Then I skimmed for monologues. None. This should be a good thing, right?
Wrong.
I like monologues. They are good chunks of time where you are the only one talking. (Duh.) This means you can't really screw anyone else up. Oh, and you don't have to wait for someone else to cue your next line. I like this. It's like memorizing a good little tale and then being the storyteller.
There are no monologues. Just lots of little lines. Some very interesting little lines. Many of them very important. Many of them numbers. Oh lord. Did I mention I'm a little nervous about it? Yeah, I am. Maybe I can convince them to throw a little song and dance number in there.
Ok, I can do this. Just bear with me. This may come up again later. In the meantime, if anyone feels like starting a petition to get me a quick little song tossed in feel free. Just make sure you get a decent amount of names and then address the petition to Soozie. Thanks! Wish me luck.
- B
Sunday, January 22, 2012
I find happiness in the little things.
Today was a good day. A day spent with friends playing games and enjoying company, followed by dinner. Games went well, friends headed home, and now it's time for dinner.
So, there I am standing at the stove. The ground beef is almost done browning along with a little bit of onions. Off on my left I have a small bowl filled with half a cup of water, some Worcestershire sauce, brown sugar, a dash of vinegar and some tomato paste. On my right there are two small children eagerly looking at what is in the pot, wondering when dinner will be ready.
I find myself simply happy. This is what I had been missing.
I missed all the beginnings the first time around. Heck, I missed practically everything. But now I have a chance to do it right.
It is the look of expectancy, of excitement. It is the sense of completeness.
This is a family. This is where I am supposed to be.
I am happy. I am home.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
There are times where it is far too easy to just sit. Sit and do nothing.
In times of stress it is easy to shut down. For a while it helps and that can give your brain a little time to heal, or at least to catch up.
Shut down time needs to be done. Things need to get going and moving. The hard part is getting the impetus us to start all over again.
It needs to be remembered that it is not a complete restart. Things have not stopped. Life still goes on. It is instead a matter of refocusing the potential energy into something else. Something that moves forward, rather than remaining suspended in mid-air.
That is what it has been. A suspension. Not the bottom of a hill, but rather a pause mid-flight. It's not the journey that is feared, rather the remembrance of the chaos that comes with it.
In times of stress it is easy to shut down. For a while it helps and that can give your brain a little time to heal, or at least to catch up.
Shut down time needs to be done. Things need to get going and moving. The hard part is getting the impetus us to start all over again.
It needs to be remembered that it is not a complete restart. Things have not stopped. Life still goes on. It is instead a matter of refocusing the potential energy into something else. Something that moves forward, rather than remaining suspended in mid-air.
That is what it has been. A suspension. Not the bottom of a hill, but rather a pause mid-flight. It's not the journey that is feared, rather the remembrance of the chaos that comes with it.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Double standard #46
Ok.... so I am waiting for the children to finish their breakfast so we can head off to the farmer's market. Since I figure I have a few spare minutes I decided to actually iron my kilt and starch the pleats so it holds them better and that leads me to wondering.... How many times will I be asked today if I am wearing the kilt without anything underneath?
Which of course made me then wonder... Why is it considered appropriate to ask men if they are wearing anything under their kilt?
If I were to walk up to a woman I don't know and say, "So, are you wearing any panties today?" I would at minimum be considered a pervert. Most likely I would get either yelled at or slapped. And what if I walked up to a strange woman and said, "I'll give you a dollar if you aren't wearing panties?" Might I get arrested to harassment, or even solicitation? The funny part is, that last line was said to me (minus the word "panties") as Samantha and I were walking in West Seattle a week or so ago.
There is no real rant here. Rather, I just find it to be yet another interesting double standard that is held between the genders.
Any comments? (Note: I didn't say "questions" for those who would ask the obvious.)
Which of course made me then wonder... Why is it considered appropriate to ask men if they are wearing anything under their kilt?
If I were to walk up to a woman I don't know and say, "So, are you wearing any panties today?" I would at minimum be considered a pervert. Most likely I would get either yelled at or slapped. And what if I walked up to a strange woman and said, "I'll give you a dollar if you aren't wearing panties?" Might I get arrested to harassment, or even solicitation? The funny part is, that last line was said to me (minus the word "panties") as Samantha and I were walking in West Seattle a week or so ago.
There is no real rant here. Rather, I just find it to be yet another interesting double standard that is held between the genders.
Any comments? (Note: I didn't say "questions" for those who would ask the obvious.)
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