Ah...the acting fix...
Good news to report this evening: I found out a few hours ago that I've been cast in RCC's Off-Broadway Play Series production of "Wit," Margaret Edson's Pulitzer Prize-winning play of 1999. It chronicles the experience of Vivian Bearing, a world-renowned professor of John Donne poetry who is diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer. I'll be portraying Jason Posner, a young cancer researcher and former student of Bearing's who can't seem to connect with the patients on any sort of sincere, empathetic level.
I'm pretty jazzed about this, having not acted in a show for about 16 months now. I did step in for one of the actors in "English Made Simple," but I did the part via the God mike in the booth, and never actually appeared. In retrospect, I wish I had played the character on stage that one weekend, but live and learn. If nothing else, it made me appreciate the original casting and original blocking with which the piece was presented at the Actors' Forum Theatre in NoHo all the more. Also, I've never been a part of anything put on by the RCC Off-Broadway Play Series, and it's always exciting to work with new people in an unfamiliar venue.
I'll post the show dates later, so that anybody interested in seeing it won't have to wade through weeks and weeks of old journal entries to find the info when the show opens. I'll probably send out a mass e-mail, too, so if you want to receive it, make sure that your information is somewhere in the Guestbook.
Posted by patrick at 09:51 PM | Comments (3)
May 26, 2003
"The Blob," the 1958 original...
I just finished watching the 1958 version of "The Blob," and it wasn't half bad. I borrowed it from the local library, so at least the price was right.
Going into this, I had some serious doubts. They were compounded by the uber-hokey theme song that ran through the opening credits. If you can find it on Grokster, it's worth the download time. You won't believe somebody got paid to write it, much less tack it onto the beginning of the film. Before you've seen a single frame of the plot, before it's had a chance to win your trust at all, you're already half out of your seat and out the door. It's like naming a baby Hitler, when he's too weak and young to defend himself.
Anyhow, as I mentioned earlier, it could have been worse--although I don't understand why everybody was so hot and bothered about Steve McQueen. To me, he just looked like a slightly more photogenic Bob Denver from his "Gilligan's Island" days. Also, I'm wary of any movie in which the protagonist's first name syncs up with the actor's first name. It makes you wonder which of the actors couldn't manage to remember a different name--the one who had to say it, or the one who had to respond to it. Hmmmmm...
I couldn't help but laugh when Steve pulls his teenage buddies and their dates out of a horror movie to enlist their help versus the blob. One of his friends pipes up with, "All right, Steve. You made us waste our 80 cents. Now what gives?"
For what it costs for two movie tickets and snacks today, I could have bought that movie theater.
The other high point of the film actually didn't occur within the movie itself. When I was done watching "The Blob," I rifled through the posters and still shots included on the DVD. There were versions of the posters from the film's release in various foreign countries. The Belgian, Mexican, and British renditions of the original poster all stayed pretty true to the original U.S. design:
And then there was the French poster:
What the hell is wrong with French people?
Posted by patrick at 12:54 AM | Comments (5)
May 25, 2003
Dead Man's Party...
I just got home from seeing Dead Man's Party at the Galaxy Theatre in Santa Ana with my girlfriend. I'd never seen them before, but I had high expectations, what with them being an Oingo Boingo tribute band and such.
Luckily, my expectations were exceeded. The music and vocals were as true to the original as one could possibly expect, the lead singer bore an eerie resemblance to Danny Elfman, and the band's energy never flagged. They played for 2.5 hours straight, including an encore that was no less energized than their opening number.
Their next show on July 5, also at the Galaxy Theatre. I recommend them without reservation. Tickets for tonight's show were only $15 if you bought them ahead of time--although the Galaxy will force you to eat and drink your way to the poorhouse if you want to actually sit down.
Posted by patrick at 02:10 AM | Comments (1)
We're splitsville, Nicole!
Apparently, Nicole Kidman smokes.
It's over, Nicole. When you've calmed down a bit, give me a call and we'll figure out a time for you to come over and pick up your stuff.
Posted by patrick at 01:58 AM | Comments (1)
May 23, 2003
Siegfried Halbreich
Yesterday and the day before, Notre Dame's seniors had the distinct pleasure of meeting Siegfried Halbreich, a 93-year-old survivor of three Nazi concentration camps who has come to speak at our school for the last 22 years running.
I volunteered to drive out to Beverly Hills to pick up Sig and his "young" (read "late 70s") friend and fellow survivor, Fred Diamond, and bring them into town on Tuesday. Wednesday morning, our seniors went to Temple Beth El to listen to him speak about his experiences, and to hear a rabbi (whose name escapes me) give them more information on Judaism in general. Yesterday, once Sig and Fred were done with the Q&A session at the school, I drove them back to Beverly Hills.
Although yesterday's drive from Riverside to Beverly Hills was pleasant enough, and I waited until late at night to attempt the return trip, I had no such luck on Tuesday. It took me an hour and a half to get out to Beverly Hills, and almost three and a half hours to get back. That return trip was made all the more stressful for having roughly 170 years of Holocaust survivor in my car. I don't mind having to slam on the brakes when some wanker cuts in front of me under normal circumstances, but I was trying my best to drive as if I had the world's largest Faberge eggs in the car with me, and the 10 Freeway just doesn't allow for that level of care.
Anyhow, that few hours of stress aside, I had a great time chauffeuring the two of them to and fro. My mom used to be the one to pick up Sig from Beverly Hills, so he remembered me well. He even told my seniors how he'd known me when I was just a child, when elicited the expected "Awwwww" from the crowd. Getting to spend time with Sig over the last three days really helped me to put my own problems into perspective. I mean, you hardly feel right grousing about things when you were in the recent company of a man who faced religious genocide with equanimity.
He's quite a guy, that Sig. He's written a book about his experiences, an autographed copy of which he gave me yesterday afternoon. I'd read my mom's copy some years back, but I look forward to a second reading. If you're interested in looking it up, the Amazon.com page for it is here.
Posted by patrick at 12:48 PM | Comments (1)
May 17, 2003
This journal entry brought to you by the number 3...
I saw a three-legged dog and had the best single hour of bowling in my life this afternoon. I sure hope the two events weren't connected--
Dammit. I was going to forge ahead with my journal entry before I thought of a connection, but my brain outmaneuvered me. The dog had three legs. The bowling ball had three holes. If you factor in this afternoon's faculty mini-retreat (Catholicism, the Trinity, etc.), you've got an honest-to-goodness pattern on your hands. Oh, and I gave a quiz on "Julius Caesar" today where one of the correct answers was thrice (as in, "How many times does Antony unsuccessfully offer Caesar the crown at the top of the play?"). Not once, not twice, but thrice.
First, the bowling. I stopped by Tava Lanes on a whim as I came home from running an errand. I rented a lane for one hour for the princely sum of $12. If you're bowling by yourself, and there's nobody in the lanes to either side of you, you can get about half a dozen games in before you run out of time.
The score of my first game was 99, nothing to write home about. Late in the game, though, I finally figured out what everybody had meant when they had told me throughout the years to keep my eyes on the arrows and aim for them instead of the pins. I finally held true to that advice, not even looking down at the lane at the moment of release, and my bowling became much more consistent. On my five games, I bowled 107, 112, 116, 137, and 125 for an afternoon average of 116. For me, that's pretty damn good!
I only saw the three-legged dog for a few seconds, but it was a significant enough experience to merit talking about it. I was driving home from the errand I mentioned before, but I hadn't yet reached the bowling alley. I was waiting at a red light and I saw a woman and her dog in the parking lot to my right. The dog was bouncing from its back legs to its front legs when it walked, which caught my eye. A second later, when I realized that it didn't have front legs plural, the odd gait made more sense. Even with its handicap, though, you could tell the dog was happy and excited. It kept bounding forward, turning around, and hopping back to its owner.
It was enough to make me feel better about a different dog experience I had. One time, as my girlfriend and I were about to enter the theater in North Hollywood in which we presented the one-acts a few months back, we noticed a "lost dog" sign on a pole. According to the sign, the cute little guy in the picture had a heart condition, and without his medication, he'd die. That had me really down in the dumps. I mean, your average lost dog has at least some chance of being adopted by a new family. But no, not this dog. With this dog, I couldn't daydream that it would wander into the yard of some crippled kid, and that the two would subsequently become best friends. No, this dog was marked for death unless it magically came across a psychic veterinarian.
Anyhow, today's three-legged dog made up for that.
Posted by patrick at 12:17 AM | Comments (3)
May 14, 2003
Popular names of 2002...
According to a one percent sample of Social Security Card applications received between January and August of 2002, my name is the 89th most popular boy's name of the year.
Believe it or not, names more popular than mine in 2002 include Zachary, Tyler, Caleb, Austin, Logan, Cameron, Noah, Aidan, Hunter, Connor, Jaden, Elijah, Jackson, Angel, Isaac, Mason, Gavin, Caden, Brayden, Cody, Jesus, Cole, Adrian, Jalen, Tristan, Sebastian, Julian, and Blake.
Patrick only managed to beat out the likes of Jesse, Brendan, Garrett, Miguel, Chase, Antonio, Xavier, Jeremiah, Derek, Alejandro and Alan within the top 100.
At least I can sleep easy knowing that my name isn't the new Michael or Jennifer for last year's crop o' babies...
Posted by patrick at 04:50 AM | Comments (2)
May 13, 2003
Car-tastrophe!
Some wanker rear-ended my car yesterday evening as I was driving from my girlfriend's apartment in Venice over to my voiceover class off down by the Pantages. What's more, said wanker didn't deign to stop and exchange insurance information. Luckily, I was able to catch his licence plate number as he drove off.
I've been in two auto accidents during my seven years of driving, and they're similar enough to be a bit eerie. Both ocurred while I was waiting for a red light to turn green (at a freeway meter or a street light), I was rear-ended both times while my car was stationary, and both accidents took place as I was driving to or returning from voiceover class. Odd, no?
Anyhow, I called my insurance company right away and zipped over to the police department to file a hit-and-run report. Although they didn't divulge any information about them, when the officers ran the plate number and other information I'd given them through their records, they said that it matched up. With any luck, the forces of good will prevail and my arch-nemesis in the brown van will learn a costly lesson about vehicular cowardice.
In other news, I think I'm the only person in America who doesn't know the quadratic equation. My girlfriend's prepping for a calculus exam on Saturday, and she was surprised when her quadratic equation flashcard producing nothing more from me than a blank stare. I wasn't paranoid about it until later, though, when her friend Jenny saw the equation itself from across the room and identified it as being quadratic. Later, when Hope's roommate Missy rattled it off at about 80% accuracy from memory, that's when I started to sweat.
Hope told me that the quadratic equation helps you figure out AX2 + BX + C = 0. I contend that it exists only to vex me.
And yes, for any math junkies who were about to comment that I'd mistyped the above: Although my journal software allows for a great many things, a superscripted numeral to denote the power to which something is multiplied isn't one of them.
Posted by patrick at 05:46 PM | Comments (1)
May 11, 2003
A childhood dream realized...
If you ever played "Asteroids" or frittered something away in a time capsule as a kid, you're going to love this…
An upcoming NASA/JPL project—named "Deep Impact," just like that horrible movie from a few years back—will involve slinging the kinetic equivalent of 4.8 tons of TNT at a comet (Tempel 1, specifically) to see what happens. The expected crater will be about the circumference of a football stadium, and anywhere from seven to 15 stories deep.
But wait, there's more!
Through February 2004, NASA is letting people register over the Internet to have their name included on a disk they're placing upon the impactor craft. In other words, your name can be right there when we backhand Tempel 1 in the name of science.
But there's still more!
After you've completed the registration process—an arduous, one-step process that will take you all of ten seconds—the website pulls up a personalized Participation Certificate that you can print out!
It's about damn time, NASA. Seriously, if they'd let Joe Six-Pack help them take potshots at comets all along, their budget never would have atrophied to the point where tragedies like the Columbia were bound to eventually occur for lack of funds.
Click here to go to Deep Impact's home page.
Click here to go straight to the registration page.
Click here to see my Participation Certificate!
Posted by patrick at 09:47 PM | Comments (0)
"The Pirates of Penzance" and "Carousel"...
This was a cultured weekend, if busy. I saw "The Pirates of Penzance" at the Cerritos Performing Arts Center on Friday night, and the closing performance of Notre Dame's "Carousel" yesterday evening.
"The Pirates of Penzance" was a bit of a letdown, truth be told. Although it was an Opera á la Carte production, directed by none other than company founder Richard Sheldon, I just felt like the whole thing was lacking in vitality.
The Pirate King didn't seem to realize that pirates are inherently cool and rowdy, and that, as their king, he had carte blanche to be the coolest and rowdiest of the bunch. The same held true for the Major-General (played by Sheldon). His character is fun in an entirely different way than the Pirate King, as they're opposing kings on this particular operetta’s chessboard, but no less interesting for the difference. Unfortunately, when it came time for Sheldon to deliver "I am the very model of a modern Major-General," one of Gilbert and Sullivan's most beloved patter songs, he sped through it so fast that he outpaced the accompaniment. He didn't seem to be having any fun with it, rattling through the lyrics at a decidedly impressive clip, but sacrificing all the humor (and rhythm) in the process.
Frederic and Mabel, you ask? Insipid, which comes as no shocker from the young lovers in a G&S show. Unfortunately, they lacked that likable sweetness that so often redeems the young lovers, a la Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum from "The Mikado".
When the dust clears, though, an evening of Gilbert and Sullivan is better than an evening without. I'll withhold my final judgment of the production in Cerritos until I’ve had a chance to watch the "Pirates of Penzance" DVD I checked out from the library a few days back. Until then, I won't know how much of what I’m feeling stems from the specific production, and how much of it comes from the writing and music itself.
Last night's "Carousel" was an altogether difference experience. I'd never seen the show before, so I walked in with no expectations. The story left me with more unanswered questions than I would have liked, but I enjoyed the performance itself.
I wasn't familiar with some of the cast members, and was pleasantly surprised by many of my "unknowns". There were other actors from whom I expected a lot, having prior knowledge of their skills, and they delivered. Daniel Favela even impressed my girlfriend with his portrayal of Billy Bigelow, and she's grown so accustomed to professional-grade performances in L.A. and New York that she holds all performers and productions to the same high standards.
I think, though, that I most enjoyed watching the newcomers—those who were new to performing, or at least those for whom this was such a departure from their usual self, who come to class each day and never call any particular attention to themselves. For some of my sophomore girls, in particular, their singing in last night’s performance might be more than I've heard them say in class all year! I had my eye on one of my theater newbie seniors during a chorus number, and it really warmed my heart to watch him having such a good time up there.
Posted by patrick at 09:20 PM | Comments (0)
May 08, 2003
Unbelievable...
I read about the Chicago high school powder puff football game gone awry earlier today, but it wasn't until tonight, when I saw the footage, that I realized just how serious of a situation was being described. It's one thing to read that five girls were hospitalized--one with a broken ankle, another with ten stitches in her head. It was quite another thing to see it played out. If you unleashed the Hitler Jugen on a half-dozen unarmed Jews, this is how it would look.
Watching this female mob surround and beat clearly outnumbered individuals who were on the ground, too busy writhing in agony to even think of fighting back, it was very hard to imagine humanity as harboring any spark of the divine. This group--consisting of assailants and those who watched passively--looked primed and ready to burn books, or maybe just sweep through a Jewish ghetto with clubs and bats.
They should be expelled and prosecuted, one and all. Or at least prevented from attending whatever sort of modern-day Kristallnacht they've got planned for Grad Night.
Posted by patrick at 12:44 AM | Comments (0)
Folks are getting hitched, and other signs of the impending apocalypse...
Twenty-five can be an unsettling age.
I received an e-mail from a high school classmate of mine not long ago. Among other things, it detailed the reproductive and/or marital progress of eight or ten fellow members of the Class of 1996, herself included. As I get older, the idea of my contemporaries having spouses and children grows exponentially less and less farfetched. According to the Census Bureau, in 1998, the average age at which one first got married was 25 for women and just shy of 27 for men. That's up from ages 20 and 23 in 1970, respectively, but it's still a daunting fact. In two years, right as I reach the average marrying age for men, I'll almost be done with graduate school. If I were a slave to the numbers, I'd hear "The Wedding March" before I hear "Pomp and Circumstance" again.
There's nothing wrong with marriage or children, although I think some people are right not to dabble in either category. Those "conscientious objectors" shouldn't be stigmatized. Matrimony and parenting are like serving in the Peace Corps. It's great if a person serves, but no right-minded individual would slight somebody for deciding not to. What makes a Peace Corps volunteer's sacrifice noble is that it's a choice made with full knowledge of easier paths and less strenuous vocations. Mandatory service would suck all the altruism right out of it.
"Hey, is that Bob over there?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. That's him."
"He still hasn't served in the Peace Corps, has he?"
"Nope."
"How old is he? About forty?"
"Well, I mean…you're not surprised, are you?"
"No, not really. Bob always was something of an odd duck."
You'd not likely hear anything like the above at a party, but if you replace serving in the Peace Corps with marriage and children, that snippet of conversation suddenly doesn't sound so ludicrous. I think a lot of people get married and/or have kids because they feel like they're supposed to, and not as the result of any particularly compelling personal incentive to do so.
Oh, I cannot wait until my ten-year reunion. I'll probably pitch a fit at the first sight of baby pictures and wedding rings.
In less intimidating news, I wrote 956 words in my novel this afternoon. I'll probably tack on another 44 words tonight, just to reach that completely arbitrary (yet ever-so-satisfying) goal of at least 1,000 words per day.
And none of them will involve marriage or children.
Posted by patrick at 12:15 AM | Comments (1)
May 05, 2003
Alcohol? On Prom night? Perish the thought!
If Yahoo! News and the Press-Enterprise have their respective thumbs on the nation's pulse, the concept of alcohol-related Prom favors is getting a lot of heat these days. Many seem to feel that giving out souvenir shot glasses or champagne flutes to folks below the legal drinking age sends, at best, a mixed message. Others assert that such items are harmless, and could be used for many innocent purposes.
I'd have to decide the propriety of a Prom favor champagne flute on a case-by-case basis, depending on the design of the specific glassware, but nobody's going to convince me that shot glasses are kosher favors. Nobody's going to pluck a shot glass from their kitchen cupboard and proceed to pour themselves ten or fifteen shots of orange juice in a row in a silly attempt to get a regular glass' worth of OJ into their gullet. They're as likely to don a wetsuit in lieu of regular clothes, or wear goggles around the house in lieu of their glasses or contact lenses. Like goggles and wetsuits, shot glasses are designed for a very specific, narrow purpose.
I applaud these folks who steadfastly assert that an individual's intent trumps an item's original raison d'ętre. By their reasoning, think of the fun one could have with a commemorative Prom bong—just the thing for storing Skittles, Nerds, Runts, or other easily-lost hard candy. A commemorative bullet for each Prom attendee would be even more thematically apropos; after all, one's enjoyment of any given Prom is the sort of thing at which one only gets one shot. Hell, as long as the Prom favor grants tacit approval to an activity at which schools officially look askance, why not give them commemorative pregnancy tests? After all, you’d only need one favor per couple. Just think of the savings!
Here in Riverside, the Press-Enterprise polled 29 local high schools, and eight of the 29 schools were planning on handing out alcohol-related Prom favors this year. Those eight schools are so far out in the hinterlands of the Inland Empire that, frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the favors in question are commemorative moonshine jugs. However, that's neither here nor there. The idea is still a bad one.
I don't know what Notre Dame is offering as its Prom favor this year, but having given this some thought, I now mean to find out…
Posted by patrick at 12:47 AM | Comments (4)
May 04, 2003
Ebert must be French for "error"...
Just a short entry tonight, as it's quite late and I've been up since 5:45 a.m. I saw "X2: X-Men United" this evening and thoroughly enjoyed it. Roger Ebert, on the other hand, hated it. Or hated something--having read his review, I'm not sure if he and I saw the same film. Matters of subjectivity and taste aside, he seems to have muddled enough of the facts that I seriously wondered if he actually watched the movie. If you've seen "X2," check out Ebert's review here and see if you're equally unimpressed with what he had to say.
Posted by patrick at 01:04 AM | Comments (0)
May 02, 2003
I should buy a Lotto ticket before this all wears off!
And the good news keeps pouring in!
My girlfriend found out this morning that she’s been accepted into the Los Angeles Teaching Fellows program. As such, she'll be working in a classroom somewhere in the LAUSD while simultaneously completing her teaching credential. She was forced out of her last teaching job through no fault of her own by the specifics of the No Child Left Behind Act, which stated that Title I schools couldn't employ non-credentialed teachers, no ifs, ands, or buts. The fact that she had actually just started down the credential path couldn't help her, as the law didn't grant any latitude to the principals or school districts it affected. The teachers either had one or they didn't—simple as that.
On top of this being an appropriate aperitif to cleanse the bitter taste left in her mouth by her unavoidable ouster from her previous teaching position, the pay as a Los Angeles Teaching Fellow is much better than what she's earning now. Hell, it's better than what I’m earning now. Not that I'm the sort who would be bothered by that sort of thing, mind you. I’m not exactly of the "keep 'em barefoot and pregnant" school of thought—a real shocker to those of you who know me, right?
That's it for today. No griping about the world at large, no esteem-shredding essay bloopers, no manifestos condemning bad movies. Just shameless plugging in a semi-public forum by a proud boyfriend.
Congratulations, sweetie! :)
Posted by patrick at 12:25 AM | Comments (0)