Archive for January, 2007
Seriously. Does it really take that much effort to look where you’re placing your feet as you exit the packed green line trolley at the Boylston St. station? You stomped on my toe! It hurt! Don’t do it again, Mr. Whoeverthehellyouare. In fact, I hope I never see you again! (The likely case)
Boston.com couldn’t help but barrage me with pictures of yesterday’s devastation. But I couldn’t take it. So I did what any good Boston sports fan would do, and turned my attention directly to the Red Sox. But before I could count up the days until pitchers and catchers report, I saw this story.
Goodbye, Trot. We still love you.
I would just like to announce that I have officially beaten The New Super Mario Bros.!
It took a crazy long time, but I finally did it, this morning on the train. It was awesome. I thought I wasn’t going to ever finish it, and I was down to my second-to-last life, but then, there I was, fighting off Bowser and resucing the Princess!
I’m doing the scenic design for my local community theatre’s next production. It’s pretty fun, actually, working out the logistics.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
Until I realized just how small the stage really is.
I don’t know why I thought I could fit four flats across the front of the stage. I was just in a show on that stage, and we clearly only had three flats across and barely a foot of room along each side. It was cramped and dark back there, and I really didn’t have an option to go someplace else, as I was constantly entering and exiting from stage right.
Oh, I didn’t mention, there is no door to “back stage” from stage right. Only from stage left. And the door is less than 5 feet tall, I kid you not. And it goes down a rather steep flight of stairs.
Have I ever mentioned that I have nightmares about short doors that I can’t get through that go down into basements? No? Well… I have recurring nightmares about short doors that I can’t get through that go down into basements.
So I just stayed back stage.
But all that means is I’m a forgetful idiot. I should have known it would fit the way the director thought. But it wasn’t until a month into rehearsals that I realized I could not fit a semi-symmetrical set on that stage. And I refuse to go full-on symmetrical because it will always look wrong.
I had an easy time convincing the director and producer about my overall vision. Slightly off-grey (in two different tints) textured walls, to look kind of plastery, with dark brown trim and square windows to allude to a Tudor cottage feel. White lattice shutters and fences. All around, a lovely feel.
The symmetrical thing, however, seemed to be a problem. The director had such a vivid picture in his head of perfect symmetry, that it was difficult to convince him otherwise. I’ve seen attempts at symmetry on a stage. Unless it is very perfect or purposely off-kilter, it looks… the best word I have is “wrong.” Sets need balance, not symmetry.
After an hour of discussion with the director, who really is a nice guy, we came to an agreement on a set that is partially symmetrical in feel, but at an angle, so not parallel or perpendicular to the stage, and with some off-tilt touches. It even has my favorite thing – exaggerated depth. It suited us both so well that we kept it. We both left that meeting excited, which I think is fabulous. Wanna see?
You may have noticed that I have continued the “blogables” today. That’s because I wrote some more of them! Lucky you!
I kind of like this. I might do it more often. I think I give myself writer’s block by trying to come up with a “full” story at two pages.
The other night, we were fussing with the new TV. Mike had bought a special “how to tune your television” DVD for the last TV, and it was getting a new chance on a new device. The voice from the DVD told us, in a slightly condescending way, how to adjust the brightness and the contrast and the color and the over scan and all that other jazz. I hope he would approve. He made me feel like, if he didn’t like it, he might take our TV away from us.
So, that DVD took quite a long time. I mean, he had to explain over and over again how we are stupid, television manufacturers are idiots, and he is a super-genius. Next thing you knew, it was rather late to be considering home made dinner. So, we ordered boneless wings from Wing Street (a.k.a. the other half of Pizza Hut).
They were quite spicy. I got spicy BBQ, which Mike simply couldn’t handle. I love the spiciness of doom. His wimpy pallet insisted upon the “mild” variety of Buffalo flavor. Of course, that turned out to still be too spicy for him.
As we were cleaning up after dinner, I looked at the calendar to find out what the holiday might be, and apparently, at least according to Laura and Tom, it was, in fact, International Hot and Spicy Food Day.
…by which I mean “How appropriate!”
…and I suppose I could have substituted with the more appropriate:
This morning, I was a little early for the 7:17.
That’s not really the case. I was actually a significant amount late for the 6:51. But let’s think more positively for a second.
Since I was a little early, I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts to buy myself a bit of breakfast. I realized I was going to be short a few quarters for parking, so I asked for my dollar bill to be magically transformed into four quarters. She was nice enough to comply, and I left the store with orange juice, an egg and cheese bagel sandwich, and seven quarters.
Seven quarters does not equal two dollars. I wondered what I would do about it. I decided not to panic, and drove off to the station. When I got there, I did in fact find a rogue quarter in the bottom of my bag, and was thus saved from having to ask the deli owner for some quarters when I have no need to purchase anything from him.
I paid the parking box, it spit me a ticket, and I went back to my car to keep warm. It was cold out this morning! As I munched on my sandwich, I saw the lights flashing and heard the dinging of an approaching train. I decided, however, that I would stay in my car to the last possible second, because, as I said, it was cold out this morning! Good thing I did that, too, because it was in fact an out-bound train that came through.
That’s when I noticed the red scrolling text was different than normal. Rather than telling me that “All trains are running on or near schedule” it was telling me that my train was running 5 to 10 minutes late due to “mechanical difficulties.” It did eventually come, and I did wait to the last second to bolt over to the train just as it came to a stop.
Then I remembered why I don’t take the 7:17. It was crammed full of people. Oh well, no seat for me. Not even after Malden, where a bunch of people got off. One “gentleman” (and I use that term loosely) actually put his bag on the seat next to him, preventing me from sitting. Jerk!
As we approached Boston, people started their retarded “ooh! I should get up and move to the doors so I can get out faster!” nonsense. Which just caused me to have to move. And I was really concentrating on my Mario game!
With the train being late, however, that meant the station was overwhelmed. Three packed commuter trains emptied at once, and due to the construction at North Station, we all had to filter through two doors. I started to lose it then.
Down the stairs, out the door, in the door, down the escalator. And, of course, there were two ladies insistent on standing next to each other, thus preventing those of us who prefer to walk the escalator from doing so. I was losing it even more.
Through the Charlie Gates, down another escalator (different people, same idiocy of blocking the path), and there’s a Green Line car. I should have known to avoid that car when I heard both drivers yelling out, “This is a Cleveland Circle train!” because, you see, the signs weren’t working.
The trolley was full, which normally bothers me a little bit, but I can live with it because I’m just not on it for that long. But at every station, we waited for what seemed like an eternity before taking off again. At Park, I saw a T inspector walking along the side of the trolley looking for… something…
When we finally reached Arlington, I was in full freak-out mode. I’m lucky I was getting enough oxygen to get off the trolley. That is, if the doors would open. Why won’t the doors open? Then I realized what was wrong. I walked, pushed, and shoved, along with my fellow commuters, to the front of the train. As I got off, the driver yelled out, “No rear doors. Use the front doors. No rear doors.”
Mechanical difficulties indeed.
I kept trying to breathe as I exited the station through the excessively long tunnel. I finally got up to the surface, and breathed real oxygen. I do not like enclosed spaces, especially those filled with a crowd of people. I took deep breaths and walked slowly. That is, until I realized that it was cold out this morning!
So I ran into the office.