Trouble with a capital "T"

I've got a mad passion for the theater. I don't mean movie theaters - I mean the kind where you dress up and sit in an audience to enjoy a live production put on by people with the type of talents you can only dream of. That's real theater.

Last night I saw "White Christmas" at Pioneer Theater. The movie is, of course, a classic. Rosemary Clooney, Vera-Ellen, Bing Crosby, and Danny Kaye? How can you go wrong?! 

The play was great too, but unfortunately, I knew within seconds of the opening number that I had chosen the wrong seat. One row back and three seats to my right sat trouble. Trouble with a capital "T." Yes...that's right...

The dreaded Talker.

The fastest way to annoy me - even if we've just met - is to talk while I'm watching a movie, TV, or a theater performance. Don't do it. We'll both be better off. In this situation, I wasn't close enough to actually hear what the talker was saying throughout the performance, but I could still hear the prolonged muttering.

To experience this for yourself, imagine mixing the iconic sounds of Crosby's "White Christmas" with the voice of Charlie Brown's teacher.

In fact, you don't have to imagine. Just push "play" at the same time:

See? Horrifying.

That's what you subject other people to when you talk in the theater.

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I also recently saw "Tangled" with two of my brothers. My brother's friend came along and he's a talker, which means the experience began much like my "White Christmas" trauma. Unfortunately, this time I was close enough to hear what he was saying.

"Wow, she's got a lot of hair..."

That could be because "Tangled" is the story of "Rapunzel," which is the story of a girl who ... has a lot of hair...

"Look, they keep drawing his nose weird."

Why, yes, they do. It's a visual example of something called a "running gag."

"Haha! The horse keeps acting like it's a dog. That's why it's funny."

It was a good thing the talking friend was there. Otherwise we might not have understood why we were laughing...

Luckily, within a few minutes the friend got so interested in the movie that he stopped narrating. Whew.

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The only way for me to effectively deal with the irritation of talkers is to mentally mock them - to laugh at their inclination to point out the obvious, and to scorn their not-so-witty remarks.

Odds are, if you've said something ridiculous enough to make me laugh at you, I'll remember it.

Man in the D.C. museum who told his wife that the British were called the "Redcoats" and the Americans were called the "Bluecoats" ... I remember you.

Kid who stood in front of the flag from the Battle of Fort McHenry and dared to say, "Why does the national anthem have a question mark? Is that a typo?" I remember you too...

"Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"

Step one: Just write an introductory post already...

I've never been a fan of blogs. 

I've laughed at them, I've made fun of them, and I've sneered at them. And, as always, I find myself joining the bandwagon eons after everyone else. It happened with bellbottoms back in 7th grade, long sweaters in 9th grade, and now with blogs in my post-college graduation life.

Either I'm perpetually behind in fashions, or I'm daring to be different. 

For the sake of my ego, let's agree that it's the second option... 

 

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This blog is coming into existence for a number of reasons: 

1 - I'm one of the few ... the proud ... the unmarried. With all the rest of my friends getting married at an alarming pace, I've found myself utilizing blogs to keep track of their doings more and more. It's the pattern of the 21st century - you get married, and then you start a blog. I suppose I'm feeling left out. But now I'll declare my independence! I don't need a husband to have a blog! (I should put that slogan on T-shirts and sell them in Provo.) 

2 - I'm suffering from an acute, advanced state of writer's block. For a journalist, historian, and creative writer, it's a terrifying position to be in. Writing is my life. Words are my sustenance. Without them, my poor, tired mind is full of uncertainty, distress, and more than a little bit of self-doubt. "Maybe I'm a bad writer, maybe I never could write, maybe all those history papers that helped me get a degree were a fluke." Oh! The horrors! 

Either way, I'm hoping that a little bit of free writing will help get the literary juices flowing again. 

3 - Odd things perpetually happen to me, and sometimes the need to share them with the world is overwhelming. For instance, the Green Peace animal activist who accosted me in the grocery store and tried to convince me to buy animal-friendly makeup and to never eat cows again? He needs to be written about. Driving down the street and seeing a man about to jump off a building above me? That needs to be written about. Blocking up an entire Salt Lake City road with my dad's Mercedes in the middle of the "end-of-the-world" blizzard that hit Utah? That needs a post too. 

4 - I need a place to write my political rants. You don't have to read them - I just have to write them.

And finally: 

5 - People keep telling me to get a blog. Okay. Done. 

I'm terrible at keeping others in the loop about my life. Because of that, every time I see an old friend, I end up having to update them on months and months of my activities. Maybe this will help alleviate the problem. If it does, it will be a huge relief to us all, including me.

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The reason I've been so anti-blog for so long is simple: they're self-indulgent. Nobody wants to read what you ate for breakfast (zzzz...), or how you're such a bad person and you need to improve your life (waaa!), or how super great you think you are (yay me!)

Keeping that in mind, I'll try to make this mostly fluffy, fun, and as non-self-indulgent as possible. Because I am an emotional void, I don't do introspective and I don't do whining. Eliminate those and I'm pretty much a blob of sarcasm. It scares people, but it keeps life interesting.

So, to get the lame part about me out of the way from the start, I'll update everybody on where I am with life. I graduated from college in April with degrees in journalism and history. Right before graduation I got word that the Deseret News was looking for an intern. Since I hadn't even started applying for jobs, I basically said, "Hey, I can do it," and I was hired, just like that. No portfolios, no job interview, and no resumes. Fate? Maybe. Luck? Definitely.

Since that time I've been hired to work for the Army (more on that in another post) and I've applied to become a teacher (some other post, maybe). Even so, I'm still working at the Des (stupid Congress) as a full-time employee. I'm living in Salt Lake, working a lot, and waiting for my ship to come in.

There. Enough about me.

On with the show.