Dear Greenpeace Street Team, or whatever you're called,
NO.  I do not want to save the earth with you.  Even though I am wearing green.  Or carrying a green bag.  Or drinking some green tea.  Or eating a green apple.  
I'm sure you were told in your training that yelling, "Hey, you want to save the earth!  You've got on a nice green shirt!" was a surefire way to get some signatures or cash or whatever you want from me.  Guess what.  It's not.  Frankly, I'm contemplating burning all of my green clothes, just so you can't use my outfits as an excuse to yell at me in your super-hyped up way.
So please, leave me and my green clothing/accessories/food/drinks alone.  For fashion's sake.
Yours,
Lydia

Today as I was eating a pretzel from Starbucks, I suddenly though to myself, "I wonder if there's any Starbucks fan fiction.  Like, do Starbucks junkies ever sit around and write about Mocha Frappacinos getting it on with Pumpkin Spice Lattes?  Maybe I should write a play wher all the characters are based on Starbucks drinks."  

Then I ran into my professor and told him about it.


I did clarify by admitting to being on Benadryl and coffee.



But still. 

At the bar:
Friend 1: Dude, you need another drink.
Friend 2: No.  No, I don't.
1: Yes, you do.
2: No, my stomach feels weird.
Me: Drink a gin and tonic.  It settles your stomach!
1: YES!  Gin and tonics settle your stomach!
2: No...  Man, I need to go to the bathroom.
1: So go.
2: No, I don't like walking through the bar.
1: Go to the bathroom.
Me: I'll walk with you.
1: Yeah, she'll walk with you.
2: I don't know...but...okay.
Starts to walk away, as I just giggle.
2: (angrily) COME ON!
Me: Sorry!

Epilogue: Friend 2 and I made it down the hall just fine, and I assume he was fine in the bathroom (I waited outside).  He stood his ground and did not take another drink.  Later, we all danced to "My Sharona" and "Whatta Man."

If you know me at all, you know I love television.  Frankly, there have been multiple occasions when I've questioned my decision to go into theater instead of television.  Like, working as a television historian?  How awesome would that be?!  Or, you know, working as a critic or writer or producer or anything, really.  Maybe not reality talk show host.  But, no, if it were Bravo or PBS I'd do it.  
Anyway, if you know I love television, you know that includes Days of Our Lives.  Though I don't love it as much as Another World, that isn't on the air anymore, so Days is my midday fix when I'm not in class/work.  
Anyway, about a year or so ago, the then former Philip Kiriakis from Days started appearing on Scrubs as Dr. Matthews, the OBGYN with amazing dimples.  But now he's back on Days as Philip, which while I was hoping he'd be able to make the move to bigger and better things, I'm really glad to see that other Philip gone, because he sucked and had no Kiriakis sliminess.  So, I'm selfishly glad Old Philip back, since he is handsome and just rocks and is constantly plotting to woo his former wife back (even though she sucks and they need to get the original Belle back too, and the original Shawn to boot) whilst tracking down the son he didn't know existed until about two months ago even though that son is TOTALLY LIVING WITH STEVE (aka Patch) AND KAYLA.  Plus Tony/Andre DiMera is back, my favorite character(s) of all time.  So basically, Days has been pretty okay maybe half the time lately, what with Old Philip and Tony/Andre and Stephano running around.  But just when I thought I was all settled, who should show up as a nurse but LAVERNE FROM SCRUBS!  Imagine the possibilities of crossovers!  At any moment, Perry could show up to comment on Shawn Brady's skin grafts which he needed after the explosion in the pub when Andre was trying to kill all the Bradys!  Doug could be a bumbling doctor who inadvertently switches DNA tests that would prove somebody's paternity.  Lexie could show up on Scrubs and blackmail Dr. Kelso.  This could totally make up for John Aniston (Victor Kiriakis) never guest starring on Friends even though his daughter is Jennifer Aniston and Joey was supposedly working on Days.  
Are you excited yet?
Now, imagine my disappointment when IMDB told me that Laverne from Scrubs is not, in fact, working on Days of Our Lives, but rather it is an actress who sounds exactly like Laverne from Scrubs and kind of looks like Laverne from Scrubs, but is not Laverne from Scrubs.  
Like sands through the hourglass, so are my tears.

There is no antonym for 'virgin' (in terms of human sexuality) that is not negative.  Think about it.  And if you come up with one, let me know, because I'm having a hell of a time finding a non-clunky way to say it in my thesis.  'Non-virgin'?  What, am I starring in Strike?  'Defiled'?  No.  'Worldly'?  Please.  It's very frustrating.

Is anyone else disturbed by the fact that in 1981 the BBC did a production of Othello with a white guy in black-face?  

I mean, I know it's Anthony Hopkins, and he rocks, especially back in 1981.  And I know that Tony only took over because James Earl Jones, who was originally in the role, had to back out because the union didn't like that an American was in a BBC production.  But seriously?  1981 wasn't that long ago.  Were there no minority Shakespearean actors in England?  Was there no one else who could play the role?  Did no one think that perhaps some might find it offensive for a white man to play a role in black-face when it's not supposed to be making a point, especially since the whole point of this series was for Shakespeare to reach to a wider audience and not just, say, fuddy-duddies who probably still said "colored"?  Or did England just still not care back then about things like, oh, I don't know, minstrelry?  And seriously, when James Earl Jones can't play Othello, who comes up with the very lovely, but lily-white Anthony Hopkins as an alternative?  I mean, wouldn't you at least think of Ben Kingsley first? 

While the Handyman was cleaning my air conditioner.

Handyman: So, you go to USC?
Me: Yeah.  I'm in the grad school.
Handyman: What do you take?
Me: ...Um, theater.
Handyman: What's that?
Me: ... Theater?
Handyman: Yeah.  Like, movies?
Me:  No, plays.
Handyman: Huh?

Lucentio: Hey, I'm Lucentio.  Who's that hot girl?
Bianca: That would be me.  And hotness is about all I have going for me.  Because I only have about 5 lines.
Lucentio: Wanna have sex get married?
Baptista: I'm her father, you whippersnapper.  Get in line.  She can't get married until her older sister does.
Lucentio: Who's that?
Katherina: ROAR! GNASH! GNARL!  I don't want to get married, but I live in Elizabethan England so I must.  I also have a violent streak and beat up my sister all the time because she's a wuss.
Lucentio: Damn.  Guess I'll disguise myself then, because this is a Shakespeare comedy.
Petruchio: WAASSSSSSUP???!?!?!?!!?  
Hortensio: Hey buddy!  
Petruchio: My dad's dead, yo.  I need a rich woman.  You know any?
Hortensio: Well, there's this shrew I know.  I'm trying to get with her sister.  I figure the best way to get with her is through disguise, like that other guy.
Petruchio: Enough about you.  Where's the rich chick?
Baptista: She's right here!  KATHERINE!
Katherina: WHAT?
Baptista: Marry this guy!
Katherina: NO!
Baptista: YES!
Katherina: FINE!  I hate you!  You just don't understand!  And you like Bianca best!
Petruchio: Shut up!  Hey, guess what.  We got married offstage, and I dressed up like a jackass.
Katherina: This sucks.
Petruchio: Okay, let's go home.  PS you don't get to eat or sleep.
Katherina: But I'm hungry and tired.
Petruchio: Too bad.
Katherina: AARHRGRGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Lucentio: Remember me?  I'm putting even more people in disguises!  It's zany!  Also, I totally married that chick in secret.  
Bianca: Huh?
Lucentio: Shut up.
Petruchio: Here we are!  We came back for your wedding.
Lucentio: Sweet!  I see you tamed that shrew but good.
Petruchio: For reals.
Lucentio: But she still isn't as obedient as my wife.
Petruchio: You wanna bet?
Lucentio: You're on.
Hortensio: Me too!  I got married too!
Lucentio: Whatever.  Servant, call my wife.
Servant: She won't come.
Hortensio: Call my wife.
Servant: She won't come.
Petruchio: That's what she said!  I mean, other servant, call my woman.
Katherina: Yeah?
Petruchio: Tell 'em about it.
Katherina: Women suck.
Petruchio: Kiss me, Kate!
CURTAIN
Okay, here's the deal.  The Taming of the Shrew is a well-written and genuinely funny play that glorifies spousal abuse.  You have to forgive a lot because of when it was written and how it was written, with the framing device and all that jazz.  But it still draws laughs from brainwashing your wife.  Uncool.  So if you do it, you have to make some decisions.  Do you cut most the abuse?  Do you change the intention of the final speech?  Do you keep the blatant misogyny?  Whatever you do, you end up with something either very far from what Shakespeare wrote or something very far from what we (in theory) believe today. 

Yeah yeah yeah.  I've just been much more concerned with Michael Keaton.  I mean, really, that's a much more important issue.
But, just so you know I'm not completely slacking off, here are the plays I've read for my thesis or study guide.  They still count.  So, here's one.

Othello
I don't think I'd ever read Othello, just seen it.  And man, when I saw it, the Othello did this amazing thing when he killed Desdemona where it looked like he was just holding her up by her neck (she was really small, and he was really tall, so she was a good three feet off the ground).  I'm sure it was a special hold and her back hand was holding her up and stuff, but still.  Then at Bard, they did the worst production ever.  Seriously, when they needed a fanfare, it was Greg Fisk backstage going, "Doot doo doo dooooooo!" in his hands.  Anyway, Othello in a nutshell:  
Othello: Hi, I'm Othello.  I'm jealous and paranoid and wish I was white.
Desdemona: Hi, I'm Desdemona.  I think black men are sexy.  Your adventures turn me on, so I will marry you.  And other than that, I'm kind of bland.
Iago: Hi, I'm Iago.  I hate everyone.  And I wish I was lieutenant and I will do everything in my power to become lieutenant.  No one knows why I'm such an asshole, but many dissertations have been written on it anyway.
Cassio: Hi, I'm Cassio.  I'm mean to my woman and I can't hold my liquor.  I, like Desdemona, am also kind of bland.
Iago: Hey, Othello, Cassio is having sex with your wife.
Othello: What??!!?!?
Iago: Yeah, see, here's her handkerchief.  That proves it!
Othello: Handkerchief...handkerchief...kill...handkerchief...handkerchief.
Desdemona: Hey, baby, what're you mumbling about?
Othello: AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! (kills her)
Emilia: Oh no!  I'm Emilia, Iago's wife and Desdemona's servant.  Now that Othello's killed Desdemona, I am so telling on you, Iago.
Iago: Oh no you won't, bitch!  (kills her)
CURTAIN
Yeah, that about sums it up.  But seriously folks, there's lots of cool stuff in Othello, especially with Othello and Iago.  I mean, what is Iago's damage?  He is just fascinating.  Also, that handkerchief has symbolism out the butt.  Othello works in almost any time period, unfortunately, because besides jealousy and betrayal and stuff, the conflict of a black man (or any minority) in white society is layered and heartbreaking and, well, complicated.
If I was dramaturging: Oh, I could have a blast with this.  Set it wherever the play is being produced, I say.  Every city in America has race issues, I dare you to find me one that is just fine and dandy with everyone.  Othello could be a great magnifying glass.

DUDE!  It's like TNT knew I was concerned!
http://www.tnt.tv/dramavision.jsp?oid=30454
He plays: James Jesus Angleton, aka "The Mother" in TNT's The Company.  "Angleton is the chain-smoking, calculating and brilliantly obsessive CIA counter-intelligence specialist who sees conspiracy and deception all around him." 
http://www.tnt.tv/series/thecompany/
Y'all.  This does not sound horrible!  I think this might be the role that can do it!
I so wish I had cable.

So, there's been a lot of talk about Harry Potter and all, and lots of people have read that last book really freaking fast, like, in very few sittings over one weekend, which is really quick for a million page book, even if it is for children, and that got me to thinking about books I've read really freaking fast say, in one sitting.  

The only one I could think of is A Clockwork Orange. 



I'm scared about what that says about me.

How can we get Michael Keaton's career back on track?  Some of you already know my story idea for a romantic comedy based in the non-profit world.  You know, where Reese Witherspoon has split personalities, and the bad personality is a stock broker or something equally "movie-bad" and is dating Michael Keaton, her slimy and amoral boss, but her good personality begins work at a non-profit with the handsome and scruffy...well, it could be a lot of guys.  Aaron Eckhart.  Heath Ledger.  Ryan Gosling.  Peter Dinklage.  Peter Sarsgaard.  Zack Braff (although I'm loathe to give him any more good parts, now that he's kind of turned into a pretentious prick).  But that's irrelevant.  Oh, or Bill Heder in a move from SNL to film.  Yeah.  But wait!  This isn't about Bill Heder!  (Bill, call me, I think you're dreamy)  This is about Michael effing Keaton.  Anyway, it would put Michael Keaton back on the map as a legit actor, because let's face it, he could OWN that role.  But, I really don't have any sway with the movie industry, so I think we'll need a back-up plan as well.  

Thoughts?

I cried about our health care system, which I was already pissed about.
I only wanted to punch Michael Moore in the face once (preferably in Cuba, France, Canada or England so he can get free care for the huge bruise and possibly broken face bones).
And I wanted (and got) a drink afterward.  If I get a liver disease when I'm older, I'm moving to Canada, FYI.  Anyone else?  Eh?

All in all, I recommend.  And while I don't think anything will happen anytime at all soon, for the first time since Romney declared his interest in universal health care for Massachusetts, before he KOed that plan to run for president, I feel like maybe people's interest will rise about the idea, and maybe, just <i>maybe</i>, someone will be able to explain that higher taxes would be a good thing in this case.  Hell, maybe even taxes would be doled out based on how much one makes, as in, if you make lots of money, you pay more taxes, and if you barely scrape by on minimum wage, you pay less taxes.  And politicians will blatantly explain that the tax cuts they speak of are only tax cuts for the wealthy, so people will quit voting for tax cuts they don't get at all.  And...and...and I think that's the gin talking.

See you in Vancouver.  Until then, I'm counting on you, Donan, to get me my meds on some sort of discount.

Before Lady Chatterley, I'd read Sons and Lovers and found it rather boring and shocking-for-the-sake-of-shocking even today.  But I figured I should read Lady Chatterley to see what all the fuss was about.
And, okay.  I get it.  I see why it was banned but really shouldn't have been.  I dig Lawrence's use of language.  I love reading/watching things that bluntly deal with class issues, which is a bigger deal than anyone today wants to admit, and Lady Chatterley deals with that issue beautifully (for the most part).  It was still boring to me until the actual affair started, and then boring until the Lady's plan to leave was hatched.  But there was one thing that really bugged me, and it stayed on my mind the entire time, and perhaps I missed an explanation, but I'm not going to go back and read it to find out: Okay.  So, Lady Chatterley's (Constance) husband, Clifford, is paralyzed from the waist down.  So, they can't have sex.  But he says she can have sex and a child with someone else and he'll understand.  But, okay.  He's not completely paralyzed.  Right?  So, there are other things he can do with his wife.  And no, those things won't get her pregnant.  And yes, there is no story if Constance is sexually satisfied.  But shouldn't this have been mention in passing or something?  I mean, for a book that describes the gamekeeper's penis, is it so out of the question to mention the other types of sex that are out there? 
And it's not that I wanted extra sex scenes or anything.  I didn't.  In fact, it would have been in keeping with Clifford's character to refuse to, ahem, stimulate is wife in other ways.  But I kept waiting for it to be addressed.  Like, talking to Oliver, Constance would be all, "My, Clifford never does this," or Clifford would say how those things just aren't done.  Or her sister would ask her things about it.  Or, Clifford did those things for the first year or two but was always "too tired" afterward, or found it emasculating to stimulate his wife but get nothing in return.  Or they never even mentioned it to the other because they were never really that attracted to each other to start with.  Or they just seriously didn't know about it and it wasn't until it was "too late" that they were educated.  But no.  Nothing.  
For a book that was supposed to be shocking with it's sexually explicitness, I was surprised this wasn't mentioned.
But maybe it was (I did skim a lot).  Or maybe that was too much even for Lawrence.  I don't know.  Lit majors, did you read this?  Did anyone bring this up?  Do I just have a smutty mind?

I was just in Greece with one of my very best friends and it was the best thing ever.  I won't bore everyone with every detail, but allow me to give you some examples of how kind the Greek people can be.

1.  Somewhere in the trip over, I got a little cold (probably just from being tired and breathing recirculated air for 9 hours.  Also, being rained on in Boston.  Really, Boston, you couldn't show a girl some kindness?).  On the train to the hotel, I was sneezing, stopped up, sniffling and using a very old tissue.  I looked like death warmed over, I'm sure.  Anyway, this man sitting across from me and Heather reached into his fanny pack and took out a little pack of tissues.  I took one, and he said, "No no.  Take all."  I thanked him.  Then he pulled out some gum and offered it to me.  I refused, but he said, "No no.  Is menthol.  Will help."  And then he gave me the whole pack!

2.  I met some cousins (my father's brother's wife is Greek, so we aren't blood or anything, but I don't think that mattered to them).  I called over (we'd emailed before), to see if we could meet.  The daughter tells me her father has just died a few days before, but then goes on to tell me the best places to go in Athens!  Then, towards the end of the conversation, she asks me exactly who I am.  She didn't even know who she was talking to, but she set up a time to meet me!

3.  When we arrived at said cousin's house, the mother insisted that we eat ice cream, because water was not enough for her guests.  Then, she offered to house us for our trip and even offered for us to sleep in her room!  What?  Her husband just died, and she was worried about our comfort!

4.  At a little pastry/candy shop, Heather and I stopped from a NesCafe frappe (it's difficult to get any other kind of iced coffee drink).  I decide to get a cookie for the road.  I point to the kind I want and get out a Euro and the woman at the counter says, "No no.  Don't pay.  Is gift."  Are you for real, Greece?

So, in short, you should go.

Oh man, Sarah Kane.  Oh man.  I am really sorry you are dead because you were a brilliant writer, but I'm kind of glad I don't have to read more than five of your plays, because Blasted just made me very nearly sick.

So Blasted.  Post-apocalyptic in a way.  But, unfortnuately, quite fathomable as a vision of what might happen in a nation taken over by terrorists.  And I'm not talking Al-Quida or anything that we are warned about by politicians.  And probably nothing that could actually happen in the "Western" world.  More likely in a poverty stricken nation that already is turbulent.  Anyway.  Utterly stomach churning and I have no idea how it could be produced.  No, seriously.  How do you suck out and eat someone's eyeballs onstage?  I mean, remember when I was all, "I hate Blood Meridian, and I hate those babies on the trees and I'm not reading it anymore."  Dude, that was nothing.  (PS, I did read The Road and quite enjoyed it, even though I read it on the plane back from Chicago after almost not making it to America, DON'T FLY IBERIA AIRLINES, so that might not have been the best time to read it).  But the writing is really exquisite and Kane does wonderful stuff messing with theater.  For instance, some stage directions are said as lines, which is just genius.  And for a short play, it's just gut-wrenching emotions in between horrific sex and violence.  You are constantly being jerked around, which can be an excellent thing in an artform that is often pandering.

If I were dramaturging:  I really have no clue.  I mean, I know what I'd do for research.  Read/watch post-apocalyptic literature/film/theater.  Also dystopias.  Look into what exactly happens when marshall law is enforced.  Read up on soldiers' crimes (plenty of rape charges since the dawn of time there).  Examine why rape is such a prevalent crime in unruly times.  But as for the actual production, I don't know.  I think the violence has to be realistic, but there has to be a line.  You'd get a damn good fight choreographer, that's for sure.  And I'm certain the actors would need help just dealing with doing such horrific, if simulated, acts every night.  I don't know.  But there has to be a line to keep the violence from becoming pure shock and not meaningful.

Up next: Anything else.

It's the English Restoration.  The play takes place during Carnival in Venice.  This means everyone falls in love, but everyone's wearing masks, so mistaken identity about with hilarious results.  In the end, the couples get married off, the cad wears ridiculous clothes, one woman gets nearly raped twice and everyone's happy except the prostitute.  Behn was, I believe, the first published female English playwright.  And while her female characters are certainly strong and make up their own mind, I didn't read much in The Rover that isn't found in any other restoration comedy.  That being said, Restoration comedies are generally pretty funny, despite sometimes despicable content.  Plus, in my play collection, the picture that accompanied The Rover had Christopher Reeve, as, I think, The Rover himself, and Edward Hermann!  From The Gilmore Girls!  Grandpa Gilmore!  Possibly playing the cad!

If I was dramaturging: Well, I'd have a blast looking through period dress and painting and stuff.  And since audiences in Restoration times would wear masks to the theater themselves (at least in France), The Rover screams to be done as a hoity-toity fundraiser.  I mean, rich people love to dress up.  Of course, I'd try and make the show not quite so "Whoops!  Almost raped you!  Sorry about that."  The fact that the main character is trying to avoid being sent to the convent says a lot about how women were treated and how much their feelings mattered.  So certainly I'd try to find information about women who perhaps avoided such a life.  Any women with any power would be researched.  And the various class/society levels held would be studied, of women and men.  There's some reason Belville isn't considered suitable to marry Florinda.  It is a matter of class, no doubt.  Ditto why Angelina is a courtesan and therefore better prostitute than the other prostitute who just steals things.  Class class class.

Up next - I'm not sure.  Maybe Sarah Kane.  Maybe Shaw.  I do like Shaw an awful lot.

Hef would not be pleased.

If I were dramaturging, I would pick another play.  If I had no choice, I would recommend it be performed in Sligo pub, so people would be drinking, and probably yell when "Sligo" is mentioned.

Oh, Oscar.  Oscar.  YES!  yesyesYES...yes!  
Whew.
Man, I needed that.  See, Oscar, the last playwright I read, he wooed me with his big ideas, but in the end, well (do you mind if I smoke?  thanks), I was unsatisfied.  There just was no chemistry, no romance, no spark, no tension.  And the guy before him, well, he went on and on and on and on, and while that can be a good thing, he was pretty selfish.  It's like I wasn't there at all.  But you, Oscar.  You knew just what I needed.  You didn't try and impress me with big ideas.  I was seduced by your wit and joi de vive.  And you brought women into the picture.  Some guys are too insecure to experiment with that, but not you.  
I'm telling you, Oscar, if I was your dramaturg, I would read up on 19th century English culture all.  Night.  Long.  I would even suggest getting a little kinky, with cross-gender casting.  I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?  And I'd maybe bring G.B. Shaw into the mix too.  And Caryl Churchill.  Oh yeah.  What do you think about that?  Hmm?  What's what?  Oh that?  That's The Playboy of the Western World by John Millington Synge.  I thought I'd give him a whirl next.  Wait.  Wait, Oscar!  Where're you going?  Call me!

Waiting for Lefty - Much like communism itself, this play is a good idea, probably interesting to watch unfold, but boring as hell on paper.  A good production could be riveting.  A bad production would be deadly.

Awake and Sing! - Why is there an exclamation mark, Cliff?  Is it to try and prove to me this show is exciting?  Because it's not.  And that's not bad.  But these people do not excite me one bit.

If I was dramaturging: Of course I'd research Odets himself, and the 1930s.  Depending on where in the country/world I was, I'd look into union activity/unemployment of the area throughout history, up to today.  I think I'd look into the stage and film work of Orson Wells, the art of Diego Rivera, all those Cradle Will Rock folks.  Hallie Flanagan OF COURSE, because she is AMAZING.  Speaking of Flanagan, I'd look at her teeny amount of stage plays as companion pieces, as well as other family dramas.  Glass Menagerie, You Can't Take it With You, Our Town.  Other agit-prop plays of today.  Paula Vogel, perhaps (and by perhaps, I mean definitely), Tony Kushner.  I know there are others but I can't think of them right now.  For political theater, Odets is super important, but his plays don't hold up to the test of time.  Everyone sounds like a bad depression-era movie, see?  And there's instantly a debate regarding what to keep in terms of racial slurs.  He might have matured with time, but I'm not reading anything else for the time being, so that is my lasting impression of him.

Up next: Oscar Wilde.  oooooooo, witty