Archive for ‘Me Time’

July 7, 2011

Sometimes We Don’t

Oh man … has it really been a week? Oops.

Full recap of the weekend … the wedding, the visiting, the dog sneezes, the fireworks … coming tomorrow. With photos, of course. Because I love you.

Alright, let’s get to it.

So I wrote yesterday, RIGHT on the heels of a rather heated (well, for me) argument. Decided not to post it until I cooled down. Let me just say … SMART DECISION. There’s no need to post in the middle of angry time. It just leads to trouble.

Long story short, Tuesday night the husband wrecked his bicycle (wasn’t wearing a helmet – IDIOT), fought me on the going to the hospital issue, and finally ended up with a stern talking to (from the doctor, about the lack-o-helmet), 2 staples in his head, a newly scrubbed arm (road rash is a nasty thing), a clean CT scan, and one hell of a headache. Oh, and a field sobriety test at 3am, per doctors orders (yah, he was REALLY happy I woke him up. Gotta watch out for those brain injuries!).

Now, Tuesday was supposed to be my first full night’s sleep in my own bed in 5 days. Clearly, that didn’t happen, but I wasn’t fussed … he was hurt and needed to be taken care of, right? Right. The trouble started the next morning.

He’s tired. He hurts. The staples are pulling his hair. And this is my fault, for making him go the hospital. He doesn’t WANNA take medication for the hurt. Leaning back so I can wash his hair around the staples (that can’t get wet) is UNCOMFORTABLE. I’m doing this on purpose. He doesn’t see the need to hurry and just wants to take the train, and I’m the bad guy for insisting on driving (he is on a 24 hour concussion watch after all). He’s generally pissed off and snarky, because his head hurts. We argue. I cry.


It is incredibly hard to remain sympathetic to someone when they are being a royal brat. I wanted to be able to push it off as he’s-doing-this-because-he-hurts, but it’s HARD! I feel taken advantage of, and under-appreciated, and everything that goes along with it … and that’s never a good situation. I wonder if he felt like this when I broke my arm, but remember that I was upset when he DIDN’T help me, and only grateful when he did. But I WAS bratty. Big time. (I blame the drugs.) And having someone you’re worried about be a brat to you? Terrible freaking feeling. Terrible.

And then there’s last night. He comes home, and wants cuddles and attention and loves and to be taken care of. He apologizes for being a dick to me, and admits he hurts and feels like crap. We soothe each other for a while, and then head to sleep. This morning he thanks me for washing his hair. And doesn’t complain, even when I accidentally pour a cup of water right in his ear while rinsing. (Oops.) He’s kind and supportive, and humors me when I desperately need to take care of him, for my own sake.

Ah married life. I imagine this is what yo-yos must feel like.

June 15, 2011

A Nice Round Number

It has come to my attention that there are no photos available online of me in high school. Something seems off about that. I promise to have at least one scanned in (and posted) by tomorrow. ::nods:: For now, all you need to know? Our colors were purple and silver, and our mascot was a cougar. I was about 20 lbs heavier. Much silliness ensued.

So. Yesterday was exactly 10 years from the day I graduated high school. Which is funny when you think about the fact that I still get people assuming I’m 19 years old. (Is it that I look really young, or that the 19 year olds are looking much older now?)

It’s a little surreal, and just … odd. Though it does offer a convenient way to nail down how many years I’ve known people. But for the most part it’s just … well, I can’t describe it. I tend to float through, living life, and not paying much attention to time. So, to have a solid time frame to line things up with? WEIRD.

It should be said, there will be a reunion, and I am not going. Partially because it’s on Labor Day weekend in California (hello expensive flights + accommodations + THE UBER EXPENSIVE REUNION TICKET PRICE**), but mostly because anyone I am interested in seeing I’ve kept in touch with. Facebook is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

So … how about you guys? Have your reunions happened yet? Coming up soon? Are you JUST out of high school and the thought of 10 years is something you’re not paying attention to?

* The one big exception to this has been the past year. I’ve promised the husband I’ll stop telling him “Happy Anniversary!” on the 15th of each month once we hit one year. He’s got 2 months to go. What? I’m a sap!

** $150 PER PERSON. This is for a 4 hour event, including dinner (but not drinks), and a DJ. The excuse is that “September is prime wedding season, and everything is more expensive!” Um … no. The venue – ok, there’s an expense. The food is definitely an expense. And the DJ, of course. But they’ve said up front that all “decorations” and photography have been donated. Invites went out online. They’ve admittedly done nothing else for it. (Which is fine.) If 300 people show up (the capacity of the venue) that’s $45k. Having just searched venues in that area (for the sister’s wedding), I know the venue rental costs $3,000. So, catering and DJ are $42k? Shenanigans. Shenanigans I say!

June 14, 2011

Fill Your Life With Sound

Man, Tony night. What a kick in the gut, am I right? The night that anyone, anywhere, who has ever been in the theatre world dreams of being back. Dreams of being back HARD. Let’s put it this way, when the husband mentioned wanting to change the channel to watch the Ironman Half, I may or may not have pulled out the puppy dog eyes and whined “But my peeeeeeeeeeeeeople!”

What? Don’t judge.

Seriously though, I miss it. I miss the exhilaration of opening night … hell, of every night … the completely indescribable feeling of putting yourself out there for an audience … even the sleep deprivation that comes from doing professional theater AND holding down a day job at the same time. Gotta make the bills somehow, right?

I’ve been very blessed to have worked with some world class directors, and even better actors. (Seriously, yo. I’ve done shows with people currently on Broadway. ) I even, somehow, got up the guts to lie my way into an audition (the age cut off was 22. I was 24, but looked 19.) for Spring Awakening, and be called back. (This is not bragging … at the call back I cracked HARD. Poor poor note, never to be hit during my time slot.) Made some excellent friends, tested my boundaries, had my abilities praised in the reviews (and laughed at … in reviews!) and learned I can be fearless.

The Municipal Abattoir – The Crucible – San Diego*

And then, I left California.

God, I miss it. I miss being able to find an audition every couple of months … and if not cast, find a tech opportunity (my training is actually in design (lighting/set/costume), not performing). From what I’ve seen so far, that’s just not possible in DC. The once-a-year open call for all companies in the area is not something I’m familiar with, and so, I keep missing it. I’m not wholly convinced theater of any level beyond community is something possible in DC, if you only have nights and weekends to devote to it. Which is a really depressing thought.

And then, the Tonys roll around again. With the glitz, the glamour, the gay, and all the love you can imagine. The look of pure joy on the faces of the performers taking their bows while being bombarded with the wild applause of their peers. The overjoyed support from the gathered members when someone who truly deserves to win wins. (I’m thinking John Gallagher, Jr. in 2007. That audience would NOT sit down, they were so thrilled for him. Me, too. I was dancing around my living room giddy.) The camaraderie among everyone in attendance. And the pure love for the art and magic they are creating every day. It’s enough to melt anyone’s heart, and make those of us that know the theater to be home yearn to go back.

Someday, someday I will.

Judging by the recent Twitter talk … I’m totally not alone in this. I do not find it surprising in the least that so many of you that I’ve gotten close to are theatre kids, too. Funny how we all find each other, right?

And just because I have to … some of my favorite moments:

Book of MormonI Believe – Good lord, someone bottle this boy’s voice. It’s incredible, and I want it for my very own treasure. I MUST see this show.

Sutton Foster sobbing (and getting me sobbing) over her dresser. I know it’s a habit of hers, but to watch her both mourn for his leaving and rejoice in his new adventure … that’s EXACTLY it, isn’t it?

The band not having the heart to play Nikki M. James off. She was just too good, and true, and too overcome to cut short. And while we’ve all heard the bumblebee bit before, her take … ” I come from a long line of bumblebees” … just KILLED me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some old librettos to dig out.

* San Diego … man what a show. The scene pictured? Yah, let’s just say that by the end of the run the tear in that skirt was all the way up to the waistband, I’d spent 3 months explaining to coworkers that no, the bruises on my arms did NOT mean my boyfriend was beating me (nice death clutch there, Ryan), and I had a broken foot. Also courtesy of Ryan. Ryan and the heavy boots he stomped around the scene (and right over my bare foot) in. Ah, the things we do for art. ::shakes head::

** Contrary to the photos, I REALLY HAVE had roles where I didn’t look so concerned. MUST. FIND. PHOTOGRAPHIC. PROOF.

*** Anyone who can name the post title reference gets a cookie. Promise.

June 6, 2011

Team Practical


Considering most of you have come into my life through APW (and are female), this may come as a bit of a shock:

I hate girls.

I’ve always hated girls. The pretty pretty princess play of the girls in my neighborhood could never compare to the games of  street hockey and dressing up as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle with my childhood best friend, Eric. To say I was a tomboy would be putting it EXTREMELY mildly. I was the 7-year-old who teachers knew to keep separated from a particular boy … because we would physically fight when in close proximity. The 10-year-old who had a royal FIT when I was cast as the princess in the school play. Who wanted to wear a gold dress and faint when there were sword battles to be had? The 15-year-old who kicked a boy when he dared to suggest a girl couldn’t play soccer.

In the 13 years since that kicking, I’ve changed … a bit. Skirts are allowed (though I’ll generally choose jeans), and there are definitely more pairs of heels in my closet than anyone really needs. But as much as things change, things also tend to stay the same: with one very big exception (that’d be Skye … you’ll hear a lot about her) the majority of my closest friends are guys. I follow hockey like nobody’s business. I’ve had my sword fights … in and out of full skirts. I play hard and rough, and generally am annoyed when I have to “behave like a lady.” Which is not to say I CAN’T … but that’s beyond the point. ::winks::

So imagine my surprise to find myself ears deep in a community of thoughtful, intelligent, hilarious, caring WOMEN.

And loving every second of it.

I don’t know if it’s that I’m finally becoming compatible with women, or that APW attracts ladies who think the same way I do … I like to think it’s a little bit of both. But it constantly amazes me that I have this awesome network of women … those that I have met and those that I’ve gotten close to online … who I can relate to, share with, laugh with, fight for, and support … women I LIKE. Women I can jump on a bus … or drive 400 miles … to see, be sure of a couch to crash on, and know, without a doubt, we’re going to get along BETTER than we do online. Women I can count on for a happy hour, for a good conversation, for sympathy and closely kept secrets. And if the last couple of meet-ups have been any indication, there will always be at least one new lovely worth keeping each time we all get together.

So … Team Practical … and all the women who’ve always been on Team Sarah (whether I’ve acknowledged it or not) … thanks. I love you all. There’s a couch and a cold beer waiting for you, whenever you want it. Just say the word.


June 3, 2011

Little Pieces … of What?

Uh oh … yet another one jumping on the blogging bandwagon?
Damn straight.
So here we go. A place for me to share my (completely random) thoughts/dreams/rants/stories. A place where anything is fair game … the things that amuse me … the things that make me think … the things that piss me off … and everything in between.
And hey, maybe we’ll have some discussion time while we’re at it.
It’s a good goal.
But seriously, what’s with the name?
What it is they say? Who you are is determined by your experiences? Something like that. Personally, I think there’s a lot of
wisdom in that. I like the idea that you get little bits and pieces of yourself from all over. I mean, look at that freaking awesome bunch of photos (thank you random FB app!). FULL of people I love, who’ve helped me become, well, me. (I’ll stop now before I bust out into a Wicked song.)
Seems fitting for a blog that won’t necessarily be about any one thing.
Plus, when I first heard it, I couldn’t get it out of my head for the next three days. Sounds like a win!