The Art of Writing

This title reminds me of the poem "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop. It shows us that "the art of losing isn't hard to master." It is a beautiful poem that I believe I read my sophomore year in high school. After you finish reading my own informal type of art, I hope you go read this poem as a supplement to what I have written today.
"The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster."
The poem quickly progresses from losing small things to losing people. In a sense it is quite depressing but I like it so much because I am very bad at losing people. I do not like to let people go so when I do drift from them I feel a deep sorrow. This is why I try to keep in touch with friends through the art of letter writing. While emails are quick and a great way to stay in touch, I have always preferred real mail. I don't mind that it takes a few days because the joy that you receive along with a piece of paper cannot be replaced. Emails are black and white (well blitz is) whereas my stationary is Wallace & Gromit, Gumby, Cat in the Hat, a pencil with arms and legs, pink toile with Delta Zeta written across the top that I tear off because it was free.
My letter-writing career started with my correspondence with cousins and was then perfected by them too. Now I collect addresses in my black Moleskin book so that should the mood strike, I have many people to choose from. If you have never received a letter from me, it is most likely just because I do not have your address. Send it to me and I will then send you a letter.
It is too easy to lose people. Although I realize that I have not been in too many situations where I can lose people, I know that I as get older I will find myself in more and more of them. I have already lost friends from North, Nueva, Sacred Heart, and Dartmouth (those who have graduated). I cannot claim that I grieve all of the losses but it still saddens me. I sometimes wonder what happened to a few of those people. I was talking with Bonnie a while ago and we established that we both wondered where life had taken some people. The thing is we are not curious about the average, nice, smiley people. Instead we question what has happened to the people who seemed destined to crash and burn (eg. people who think that wheat is a mineral) and the people who were smart beyond all belief. They should have the interesting lives.
It also makes me sad that people LET it be easy to lose one another. I am determined to not allow that! I consider letter writing to be an art simply for the fact that so few people do it nowadays. People sometimes send birthday cards or thank you notes, but very rarely does one just send a letter to say hello and inform people of what one is up to. Because this is exactly what I do, I must claim that I am practiced in this art.
This post is not only to brag about my letter-writing skills, which sadly cannot be placed on a resume under the "other skills/activities" section, or to introduce you to a brilliant poem. It is instead a lament for the plight of written correspondence and the true skill of losing friends. At least I know that writing letters will not die due to any lack of effort on my part, and no true friend shall go forgotten while I still have fingers, pen and paper to write.

Los Angeles Winter

I am thrilled with my camera. I am not thrilled with the fact that it cost money, but I am happy that I can take pictures now.
I have decided to document winter in LA for everyone in Hanover. I hear we got a lot of snow in New Hampshire and I was told that I was missing out on a good winter. I personally think I lucked out. Here is my beach:


Here is sunset on the beach, something that you east coasters don't get the pleasure of enjoying (snow or shine):

This is Lenny. Or so I named him. He walked along these rocks with a bouquet of irises and a red balloon. I wondered if he was meeting someone until he let go of the balloon and watched it do its jittery dance away over the waves. Perhaps he was stood up. While he soon returned from the rocky promintory the flowers did not. I can only guess that they too traveled out over the water:

More Photos!

This time they are from the Annie Awards (as promised so long ago). This is before the show actually started:

This is Alexis and me in our seats:

Uhhh we weren't satisfied with the previous picture (and people say we look alike? I think not!):

This is us after the show and back at Alex's:

Don't ask. . .

I hope you enjoyed these.

About time!

I have finally bought a camera! This means pictures in future posts to please you. As much as I am dedicated to pleasing you, the significance of this is really that my love of photography has been re-awakened by the purchase. I took photography in high school for two years which means I just started to get good and get into an experimental phase before I left for college where it was difficult to get into a photography class (first you have to take Drawing I, then of course you need to make sure it isn't at the same time as your much anticipated animation class). You can see my work as featured on the walls of my mum's house and my dorm room. I used to think that film was for professional photography and digital pictures were for goofing around with your friends. Now that I no longer have access to a photo lab, digital photography shall have to run the gamut on types of pictures taken. Although I still have my super nice film camera, I can see it sitting next to me feeling increasingly lonely, taking pictures I plan to develop myself only to remember that I don't have that option is kind of a damper.
I suppose since I have told you that I have a camera I should put up some pictures or this post wouldn't really do my new camera justice. I have only taken 3 pictures.
This is Krista Foley, my "mum" for the term. She is being silly. In all fairness, I didn't give her much warning time.

This is the Santa Monica beach.

This is near my work in Burbank. It struck me. So I took a really fast picture. Sorry if it seems a bit too depressing or ominous, I think you can handle it.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Right? This is what we are told at least and I'd say it is generally accepted as truth. There are certainly times that friends have been attracted to someone and I just haven't seen it. I'm sure it goes the other way too. But, the whole eye thing aside, what really makes someone beautiful? I've heard that studies have been done (those darn unreliable and so un-scientific studies that I still glean information from) that found that across cultures one of the aspects that consistently contributes to one's perception of beauty is facial symmetry. This comes as no surprise to me considering I think that someone with level eyes is more attractive than someone with one eye two inches north of its partner.
Or do I?
All of the Disney heroines/princesses/what have you, have all been beautiful, there is no doubt of that. But they have also been extremely dull in that face department. Big eyes plus full lips, a small turned up nose, and flowing, slightly curled tresses gives us the basic formula for a Disney princess. Read through that description again. While I would love to have hair like Sleeping Beauty, I can't deny that this formula leaves something to be desired: imperfection. With imperfection comes interest. John K. had a post a while ago that got me thinking along these lines (I must give credit where it is due). It was a post about caricatures and undertures (the latter term may have been coined by John). He astutely pointed out that caricatures are much more exciting than undertures. The princesses and prince charming's were categorized as undertures. Rightfully so.
Why? Simply put: they are boring.
I tire of handsome animated characters. Now before you jump to defend your beloved Disney characters, take note that I am not really insulting beauty. I know from experience that beauty can certain be a burden. In Snow White's case it made her nice to look at but lacking in character compared to her short, goofy, seven dwarf friends. I gather then that it must be really hard to be both lovely and intriguing (as an animated character). Why though? The real life people we consider pretty are usually interesting as well (this ties back into the eye of the beholder thing). What do some people miss in the translation from real life to ink then? Ever since I talked with Michael, a volunteer at the archive, on Saturday about how easy it is to make animated people dull and lacking personality, I have been wondering how anyone manages to make a drawing both angelic and stimulating.
This brings me back to my previous query about whether I do find level eyes more attractive than lopsided ones. I have found many of Picasso's paintings to be lovely, and they are anything but symmetrical or boring. Betty Boop is also considered to be appealing, but she is also quite interesting. In fact, she is just plain strange looking. The sheer size of her head aside, it is also an extremely odd shape.
This only proves to me that reality certainly is overrated. I must conclude that while beauty is valued very highly, I think that interest should come first. So if Britney Spears wants to shave her head, while it might not make her more beautiful, I have to admit that it does make her much more interesting.

The Time for Stories

I have always envied people who are good storytellers. I would like to think that given a good story I would also be a good storyteller too. Then again, the mark of a good storyteller is also being able to find those stories. While I have envied those who can entertain with their tales, I have equally disliked those who are horrible at relating stories. My sorority meets every Wednesday night to go over a bit of business and then to generally have fun and SHARE STORIES about our week. I have found there is a pattern to who shares stories, what they are about and how well they are told. Most people are not good at sharing their stories, no matter how interesting the subject may have been. If you are an amateur story-sharer then I think it is important to hit the basics. The basics include having a beginning, a middle, and an end. You do not need to stick to this religiously, but it helps structure your narrative so that those who are listening do not get lost in the mess of a yarn you are spinning.
There are all kinds of storytellers. There are the kids (or adults) who tell a lie to get out of trouble. Reporters who present the world with its happenings. Fathers who read to their children before it is time to sleep (or in my case: fathers who read to their kids while they both fall asleep). The point is, I admire the art of storytelling because it is not a skill that comes easily to me. In fact, the hardest part of any animation I have done is coming up with the story. I know that with time and work I will get the movements correct, but a story doesn't come quite as easily.
Every time I post is somewhat like torture for me because I need to come up with a mini story that I think will at least interest if not truly entertain my readers (which is, of course, my ultimate goal, goodness the things I do for you people). Since I am picky and unfriendly, I admit that I am not interested in every step of my friend's lives or nights out (unless it includes something truly extraordinary, like someone in a gorilla suit). Therefore I assume that no one would be interested in that about me and lately I have not run into anyone in a gorilla suit. Very disappointing. Quite the dilemma! A Gemma dilemma! Coincidence? I think not. As it turns out, that is pretty much the only word that rhymes well with my name.
My narrative strays. Well, the other day I received a blitz from my friend Mandy who is also taking this term off. We are both taking the Projects in Digital Arts class(or something titled similar to that) next term. Basically we spend 10 weeks making a movie, start to finish, in small groups. Mandy and I have decided we must be in a group. We have also invited Thomas (Donahoe, for those SHPeople who read this) to join us, I don't know if he knows that yet. While I have many stylistic ideas that come to me at the oddest times (okay not that odd, usually while I am driving, it is a great time to think, what else are you doing in the car anyway?), I am a complete blank when it comes to possible stories. Mandy's blitz asked me what our animation should be about. The dreaded question. I responded by saying it should be about a pet rock. Living or inanimate? (Thank you, Caroline). Sadly, I do not think this idea will really take flight.
Ah this post has gotten so long and I still haven’t gotten to the whole impetus for this specific post! The other night, at the Coral (naturally), Steve told a story of a man he worked with at Filmfare (I think that is where?) who decided that he would go up in a lawn chair. Yes, up in a lawn chair. Up where, you ask? No, just up, in a lawn chair, with many a weather balloon tied to it. I was particularly interested in this story, not only because it is pretty amazing that some guy got it into his head that he should go up (as high as a plane mind you) in a lawn chair, but also because the story sounded quite familiar. I had heard it before. In fact, I had seen it. This story had been turned into a play, titled Up, that was performed at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival last year. It is one of the craziest stories I have ever heard, twice. But Steve is a fantastic storyteller so I didn’t mind at all that I had already heard the fictionalized version of the story. I wish I was a good storyteller like Steve. I suggest everyone hear this specifically mentioned saga, by the way, but not from me right now because the length of this post has really gotten out of hand. I feel like everything I do now involves storytelling! I saw the animated shorts nominated for the Academy Awards tonight and all I could focus on was how well they told their story.
I am done with stories for the night. I am going to go to bed, and listen to the Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde because my mum has kindly gotten me addicted to books on tape.

Cleopatra

Apparently she was not beautiful. Whatever. I think that Shakespeare knew what he was talking about. Shakespeare certainly described her as beautiful. Or so I believe. Well, the play leads the audience to think that she is, whether or not I can recall it explicitly saying so. I owe most of my knowledge of Roman and English history to Shakespeare's plays. Needless to say my sense of those histories is full of generalities, dramatic monologues and heart-wrenching death scenes. I don't think that is such a bad thing in the end. It certainly makes the beginning of the War of Roses so much more exciting when I can picture Prince Hal (future King Henry V) as Dan Donahue in a Union Jack coat with long bright red hair. I know you would agree if you had seen all the Shakespeare plays that I have. Although I have to admit that the last production I saw of Antony and Cleopatra was disappointing. The set was lovely, but Cleopatra was not beautiful nor was Antony dashing. In general, Cleopatra was overly needy while Antony was a big wuss. That is not the way I read the play.

The Annie's

Then Sunday finally came! I woke up again at 7 and got ready for the Annie's. You might be thinking: "Whoa there Miss Eager, isn't that a bit early?" I agree with you. But I had to tutor all morning and afternoon before the Annie's so 7 seemed like a good time to wash and blow dry my hair. About 90 miles and 9 hours later, Alexis and I stood in front of the Alex Theater. It is a lovely theater and has neon lights in the front. Of course, it had a red carpet too, which we discovered had a rather large lump in it, that couldn't have been safe. There were also two large animated characters, the bear and the uhh deer from Open Season. Alexis and I greeted my archive friends (a.k.a. the 4 people I knew at the Annie's) then proceeded to the bar so that Alex could get something to drink. I could not, however, because I had been very honest and said that I am not yet 21. Silly me. It is only a few months.
Once we had wandered inside the theater we took a look at our tickets and discovered that we had seats in the very front row of the balcony! Very good seats! We took pictures, I will get those and put them up ASAP. (if you cannot wait, then look at some of the pictures on the ASIFA-Hollywood blog).After 4 hours or so, I discovered that the show had ended. It had gone by so quickly! I am not really certain what to say about it though because I have no idea what people want to know about it. So here it goes:
The host of the show was Tom Kenny, best known I suppose for being Spongebob Squarepants. He was quite amusing and full of energy. The family of Windsor McCay was there too! Speaking of Windsor McCay (who you should all know, if you don't, please look him up), they give out Windsor McCay awards at the Annie's for career achievement in animation. This year there were three recipients: Bill Plympton, Genndy Tartakovsky and Andreas Deja. I have to admit that I know very little about Genndy, apparently he did the Samurai Jack stuff. But Bill Plympton on the other hand I certainly had heard of before. For anyone who has seen his work will not soon forget it. I can't even describe it. But I know that he tends to shoot his animations on 4's and 5's instead of 3's, giving it a slightly jerky feel. Andreas Deja I know because he has done a lot of work for Disney. Look these guys up. John Lasseter was also there and he spoke to Steve and said that he would stop by the archive! I can only hope that Steve might convince him to come to the archive soon. . . while I am still here. I hope Steve reads this. I would please like a job at Pixar for this summer or after college.
After all awards were given (the award is in the shape of a zoetrope by the way, pretty neat), Alex and I headed downstairs and outside on our way to the "after party," which consisted of a buffet full of food shaped garlic. There were very few seats and both of us were tired so we did not end up staying too long. Instead we went to get pizza all dressed up.
For some reason I feel like this post isn't as exciting as it should be but you will have to forgive me because I am again very tired and starting to get lonely due to a lack of friends (the Foley's are in Montana) despite all the glamour in LA. If you live in LA, we should be friends so that I can have more people to be social with. As it turns out I am a social person, even though I tend to have a short wick with most people.

The One Busy Weekend

The moment you have all been waiting for! I will now share with you the event that was my weekend. It started Thursday night at the Coral when I met John K. (for longer than a hello this time). I noted that he turns his head rather quickly, likes to raise his eyebrows, and has a gruff voice (these are the things I noticed, whether they are true or not is up for debate). I liked his glasses; thick green frames. I also liked that he got spinach in his scrambled eggs. I was invited by Steve to John's house on Friday night. I wasn't sure what to say at first because my answer is obviously "I would love to," but I was just so struck by the fact that Steve asked me even though John was sitting directly across from me. By the end of the night I had been given John's address and phone number and also been invited by J.D. to watch a movie shoot on Saturday night. I left the Coral that night feeling very LA.
Friday I shopped "like mad" for a dress to wear to the Annie's. I had nothing even approaching what should have be worn on Sunday in LA. I was not successful that morning and left Santa Monica disliking all dresses and all shops. I was grumpy. I went home and knitted to de-stress. That evening I went over to Alex's place and then we went out shopping again. I suppose this time was more fruitful because Alexis and I both found dresses. We then both headed over to John's house. I brought my sister because I try to make it practice to never enter a new social situation alone (Erin can attest to this). We got lost, inevitably due to the sad map Google produced for us. But we did get to see Circus Liquors! This might mean very little to most of you, but this is the liquor store where Elton leaves Cher alone to get mugged in the movie Clueless. The place exists, I have seen it, and there is no phone booth there as Alexis so astutely noticed.
We eventually made our way to the correct street and found ourselves sitting in John's living room while listening to some of the most entertaining music I have ever heard played at a social event. I almost laughed aloud many a time throughout the night because I kept remembering that I was in John K's house and that is just ridiculous. He fit his home and that pleased me.
We spent about the first 15 minutes hearing Steve and John rail on Alex's work. I understand that in a way animation is their baby, so they are protective of it. But what they fail to consider is that Alexis is my sister so I can be protective of her (if that makes sense) and that perhaps she and her company have done some good work with restoring Disney animations that they (S and J) have not yet experienced. In addition, her company does not do the color for these restorations, Technicolor does. So don't complain to my sister about the quality of the color or the fact that Technicolor felt the need ramp up the contrast and over saturate the drawings. Unfortunately, I failed at being protective of my sister because I had no clue what to say. I felt bad.
Overall, it was a fun night and I wish I could have stayed longer than I had but both Alexis and I had work and plans for the next day.
Saturday, I woke up at the early hour of 7. I then drove to Pasadena to proctor a practice SAT (aka watch high school students suffer). Then I drove to Oak Park to tutor a student from my Wednesday night class. His father made sure that I gave his son more math homework so he could get a lot of practice in on that. That made me laugh (on the inside). I ended up driving over 100 miles that day, don’t ask me why because it is a boring story. I felt like a slug so I went to the gym and worked out twice as long as usual. It was my personal revenge on the shops I had gone into on Friday, not that they would know. After that I was much too tired to go to the movie shoot so I stayed home and knitted some more. Good thing too because the shoot had been cancelled.
(okay I am splitting this into two posts because I am tired and this could get long).

Pool

Pictures! Oh man! This is from when Beth was visiting and we played pool. This is me playing pool. . . or attempting to.

That is the only one we took inside because apparently you can't take pictures inside. . . just in case we wanted to steal their unique decor? So this is one of us oustide instead.

Then this is one of Beth and Rebecca pretending to play pool, and me doing who knows what.

Dated

First of all, I would like to point out the beauty of the internet. It allows anyone to express any opinion no matter how outrageous. Now that I have made that clear, I would like to point out that my blog is a wonderful example of this. I do not expect you to agree with anything I write, let alone believe it. So! In my world astronomy/astrology is not a science. I would rather continue to think of the stars as I saw them as a child. They are the beautiful things that only decide to reach their full potential when away from the garish city lights. The only science-like thing I want to know about the stars is that the universe is infinite. I understand that this may seem strange to some people. Unfortunately I cannot even attempt to put into words the awe, the amazement, the. . . (I have no words) that I felt when I learned this. It might be really obvious that the universe is infinite but it is a difficult concept to fully imagine. I loved the feeling when I first realized that a miniature of the universe still couldn't fit into a shoebox. I miss that feeling too, because now that I am older and hopefully wiser that feeling comes with alarming infrequency.
It must be true then that youth is wasted on the young. I came to this conclusion this evening when driving back from the Coral where I had been repeatedly called 11 years old by a certain Mike F. (who insists he can get away with anything as long as he is wearing a NY hat). This is supposed to be a compliment to a woman, but I personally just feel bashful about the fact that I am the youngest when at the Coral. I am young and sadly I have to admit that I must be missing something. While I was neither complimented nor offended by being called so young (I was actually quite amused), I had trouble figuring out why it was so important that I was the youngest at the table (only by 7 years mind you, a brief bit of time if you ask me). Since I could not figure this out I have to admit that I am obviously not appreciating youth as much as I should. Yet, I have never experienced anything but my current youth and my even younger years, so how I am supposed to know if I am appreciating my age as much as I should? Aye, there's the rub. While I think I am enjoying my age to it's fullest potential, how will ever be able to tell if that is so until I am older? Then it is too late by that time, convincing me that youth certainly might be wasted on the young. However, this statement cannot be said in any vindictive manner, for everyone has had the chance to waste his or her youth, even the elderly.
So, while I am still young, I fully plan on looking at the stars without bringing science in to dampen or change their glow. (I do acknowledge that perhaps science brightens the stars for others, but hey, this is my blog).

Real Science

Whenever I hear someone say they should be more like someone else, I always think of Disney's The Jungle Book. "I wanna be like yooouuu. I wanna walk like you, talk like you tooooooo." I can go on. But this brings me to my next point about how I really need to choose a class to fill one more science distributive before I graduate. . . . or so I can graduate. I swear these are related. You see, I found the perfect class! I have always liked science, but taking science in college frightens me because almost every real science class seems to be geared toward people who want to go into that particular field or who want to go into medicine. Needless to say, this makes the classes really hard and a lot less fun for the Gemma-like person who is taking the class simply to enjoy the material. But the Gemma-like person also feels like she is cheating if she fills her science by taking Astronomy because the Gemma-like person will tell you that it is not a real science. Psychology is also not a science. . . . I think I just alienated half of the people I know at Dartmouth.
I feel like a lot of people I know are majoring in Psych at Dartmouth. I took Psych 1. . . . what a disaster. They tried to convince me that it was a science. I remain skeptical. I felt like so many of those studies were ridiculous. This is not to say that they were not correct in the end (people do conform to gain acceptance and the dog will drool if you ring the bell), but all of the uncontrolled variables and some of the far fetched conclusions really drove me to believe that there is no way this is true science. Biology. Chemistry. Physics. Now those are the sciences for the real science people. (I really am making people dislike me, I can tell). I say this as a Computer SCIENCE major. That is also not a science in my mind. I work with a very strict definition of science and it does not include looking at stars or showing pictures to people to see if it makes them blink more frequently.
For example, I think that Bonnie is taking real science. She is studying our earth to create things that make it better, safer, faster, shinier! Now you Psych people can argue that you too make the world shinier and I wouldn't argue that knowing how a mind works is not important, but it still isn't a hardcore science.
I think I have made sufficient enough enemies in the Psych department now, so I shall wrap this one up with how frustrated I am that I cannot take a REAL science because I don't have enough time left at Dartmouth. Instead I think I will take Primate Societies in the Anthropology department (now that is a sweet department, not because it is a science, but because their study abroad takes you to NZ). This brings me back to the original connection between The Jungle Book and my science career at Dartmouth.

Addiction

I have not posted in a while, for that I apologize. It was brought to my attention that reading blogs is addicting. While I don't suggest that my blog alone causes the addiction, I am sorry for the withdrawal that some of my readers may have experienced. I like to think that I do not have a very addictive personality, which is why I have yet to get hooked on pretty much anything (even though my mum has tried so hard with tea), so I have some trouble relating to this. But I kind of counted on having pictures to fill up the days that I could think of nothing to write. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like that will happen for quite a while. Still no camera. I don't really want to talk about it.
Anyway, I haven't written because I haven't had all that much to talk about really. Oh. . . well I guess I have. I lied. I did quite a few things this weekend.
Saturday night I met up with my Rebecca friend and my Bethy friend! Beth was in LA visiting from Boston for a while. We took Beth to authentic Californian food, a.k.a. Mexican food. Where she proceeded to confuse herself over what she had ordered in a "different" language and also get excited over mole sauce (pronounced like the little mammal featured in the Wind and the Willows by Beth). After food we went to play pool. Rebecca and I were the youngest people there and I believe the bar tender offered us apple juice. Very sweet of him. I also think we were the only people laughing there too. People take themselves so seriously! Maybe pool is more than Saturday night entertainment to some, but you would have thought we trespassed on something sacred the way some people stared at how we butchered the game and sang loudly to all the songs. They needed to relax; be more like us.
On Sunday, I went to the Getty Villa. Which is like the Getty Museum. But a Villa. I went with Alexis and Sean and all of their couple friends. I stood out. I am not in a relationship, nor am I married (surprise!). Back to the Villa. It was built to resemble the Paparii Villa, which was covered up by that big volcano eruption that wiped out all of Pompeii; it was Mt. Vesuvius I believe. Well it was simply gorgeous, dahling. The architecture and gardens were just fabulous. (I hope you read that in the right voice). They also have a decent collection of Greek and Roman. . . . well, stuff, to put colloquially. They had a lot of stuff. Being a true art expert, I can say that none of it was really AMAZING except for some of the mosaics. There was a really beautiful one of Venus pouring rose petals about, as you are wont to do as goddess of love, and a nice pair of tigers doing various violent things. I was more interested in seeing them for all of the pieces for their age and story, awakening my love for history, rather than for their value as art.
Then I watched the Super Bowl, a very different form of art. I believe this brings my weekend to a close. I hope this satisfied a certain specific reader.

Those Days

Everyone has "those days." The ones when you wake up and just don't want to get out of bed because you know that it just isn't worth it. I think that today was one of those days. I stayed in bed for so long after I was awake it is almost embarrassing. As it turns out, my premonition was spot on. I woke up to a very upsetting blitz from one of my countless bosses (I have a lot as it turns out). Now I think that I have to quit one of my jobs. I say "one of" because I have never had to quit a job. I have always kept it around for when I come back to that location. Not to mention I've also really enjoyed all of the jobs that I have held, so why would I quit? This just makes me really upset. I might as well tell you which job. I am going to quit my job at the scene shop at school and it REALLY upsets me because I think of all the jobs I have had, this is the one I will miss the most. I love the theater. I have been going to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival every year since I was 7. I would say the theater is one of my greatest loves actually.
Now I sit in the Foley kitchen eating my Hearty Minestrone soup by Wolfgang Puck hoping that it will make the end of the day be better than the beginning. Not working yet. I feel like today should have actually been a pretty good day considering all of the other things that happened. Today the son of Clair Weeks came into the archive with a whole bunch of original artwork by his dad. Who is Clair Weeks? He was an animator for Disney, check out that link to read more about him and to see some cool stuff (like an authentic Walt Disney signature, wow, hard to come by). Anyway, that was really cool. Plus I got good feedback from my first time teaching the SAT class. Although that was a pretty harrowing experience, I had nightmares about those kids, maybe that is why I didn't want to get out of bed. All in all, today should have been a good day in my opinion, but instead it was a really bad one.