Awww, people, sure, I was like the last person in America who still watched “ER,” but after 15 years, it’s over, with its sometimes heavy-handed story lines, seriously bummed out characters, and hard to sing theme song. I am a little sad that it’s over, but slowly, my shows are reaching their peak, headed to expiration, which means I will eventually be able to get taxes and house work done.
Archive for April, 2009
in memorium
Monday, April 6th, 2009Buddha ears
Monday, April 6th, 2009 My mom told her co-worker that he had ears “exactly like Buddha.” And I was like, What? You mean, meaty and hearty like a steak? And she said, Yes — and I said, Ma, you can’t go around saying stuff like that to people! And she said, Too bad. This is the way I am. It’s too late. And I said, Did he get mad? And she said, Oh no, I told him it was a compliment, that he would be a king if he lived in Buddha’s time. And he said, Everyone in India has ears like these.
Hmmm. Also, my mom doesn’t like when I blog about her. She says there’s no need to make her humiliation so public…but I don’t think I can stop.
losing memory
Monday, April 6th, 2009 Uh, today, I forgot what my zip code is. Is that bad?
choking under pressure
Thursday, April 2nd, 2009
I still remember choking at my piano recital during high school. The girl before completely blanked (horrible to witness) and her wipeout psyched me out. I was playing Bach Invention #13, which I loved and practiced a kabillion times at home, but that moment, with everyone staring at me? All I could get out were the first three measures — then CHOKED. (I ended up jumping ahead in the piece and played the whole thing in 30 seconds. Having a fast word/per/minute typing time is good at work, but not really relevant for the piano — unless you want to get the hell out of dodge.)
When you’re doing a show, choking is worse. I still remember blanking on lines in a Steinbeck show I did with my friend Christine. It was like a MONOLOGUE while two performers acting out the story — so it was all on me. The moment I forgot my lines, the lights shined brighter, I could hear my heart speed up, and I broke out into a crazy-woman level of sweat. Not good. As I sat there wondering what I should do (I thought about starting over, I thought about leaving and never coming back, wondering where the fire exit, etc.), the line finally came back to me. Thank God!
The only other times I choked was um, four times, during the first time I ever performed a one-person show because I was so unbelievably nervous. We put the script on the accordion’s music stand, thank God! Hopefully, those days are behind me — not the forgetting part, because I’m only too aware of how my memory is starting to fade with age, but next time, maybe my runaway nerves will have chilled.