I went to the Mann Music Center tonight to see Idina Menzel with the Philadelphia Orchestra. I'm not sure why I was there, aside from my wife having bought me a ticket. I don't remember ever going on about how much I liked her (though I still remember her on the Tonys a few years back) and if she were ever in town that I had to see her. I'm sure I commented positively on her performance in Glee.
It was this weird mix between an orchestra concert and a pop recital of some sort. You get there and the orchestra's sitting on the stage. They look kind of cute in their short-sleeved shirts and open collars. Then this guy comes out. It's Steve, the conductor. I've seen lots of orchestra concerts and none have them have ever been directed by anyone who calls themselves Steve. They're always Wolfgang or Ricardo or Charles.
So Steve the conductor comes on stage and leads the orchestra first through a nice little fanfare that Steve had written. They then played, and I'm not making this up, the Overture from Gypsy, "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic and a medley of Diana Ross hits, starting with "I Hear a Symphony." Not tonight, Diana. Tonight it's Steve at the helm and there are no symphonies happening. They tell us to turn our cell phones off, but why, when they're playing Celine Dion songs? On my cell phone is exactly where I want to be.
The only other straight males there are the husbands and boyfriends. There are many groups of girls. Not a single group of guys did I see.
After they finish this they take a break. Then Idina comes out and she's much larger than I expected. Turns out she recently had a baby. She mentions that she's lactating. Nice touch. Meanwhile, this girl can really sing. She does some stuff from Wicked and Rent and a couple of songs she sang on Glee. She's kind of charmingly awkward, as you might expect a nice Jewish girl from Long Island who's way more successful than she ever dreamed of being.
It was fun but I still have no idea why I was there.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Liveblogging Inservice
I have no idea where the term in-service came from. If it isn't meaningless, it certainly isn't meaningful. At the moment, it's a series of group exercises. Group exercises can be useful, but at the moment it seems that the general atmosphere doesn't lend itself to productive activitying.
You can tell because when the exercise is to brainstorm what we want to continue doing and what we want to stop doing the number one "stop" response is "doing these stupid exercises."
You can tell because when the exercise is to brainstorm what we want to continue doing and what we want to stop doing the number one "stop" response is "doing these stupid exercises."
Friday, June 11, 2010
Day -1, Final Act
We did the show on Wednesday. After all the rehearsals and the back and forth and general chaos it was time to hit the stage. We ultimately decided to do our a capella number in its entirety and it was fine. Here's what I did- numbers 1-5 in the space of 30 minutes:
For myself, I was on key and didn't mess up any of my lines, even when the Glee sketch messed up their lines and skipped 2 pages of dialogue before I was supposed to be on stage. I have no acting experience and last took voice lessons in college. But like the last time I was in a show (one very much like this when I was in biz school in 1981) I was on key and on cue and reliably funny, so everyone wanted me in their bits. Great fun. I'll post video as soon as I get it.
- Middle person/conductor in the a capella performance singing to the tune of Bring It On Home.
- Facebook addict with a smartphone in a song to the tune of Help
- One of 4 leads in a skit and song to the tune of The Money Comes Rolling In from Evita. This song is in 7/8 time, making it impossible for untrained singers to come in on time and together.
- A multi-season athlete in a sports number
- Sue Sylvester (in a wig and lifts) in a Glee sketch
- A parent lamenting out Least Favorite Things
- Finale
For myself, I was on key and didn't mess up any of my lines, even when the Glee sketch messed up their lines and skipped 2 pages of dialogue before I was supposed to be on stage. I have no acting experience and last took voice lessons in college. But like the last time I was in a show (one very much like this when I was in biz school in 1981) I was on key and on cue and reliably funny, so everyone wanted me in their bits. Great fun. I'll post video as soon as I get it.
Day 2, Act 1
It's difficult to tell whether it's best to write things down when the impressions are fresh or to wait until they start to coalesce. I'm probably going to opt for both here. This morning my older daughter graduated from high school. This was a predictable occurrence, but no less momentous for that. I'll replay it in pieces to avoid the post being too long.
The morning started with my alarm going off and screams from outside the bedroom door when my daughter realized she had overslept and had only 45 minutes to get ready. Now let me give you a dad's perspective on this sort of thing. First you go into emergency mode- you give a backrub to stop the hyperventilating. Then come in rapid succession the following thoughts:
On the way to school fending off all the "everything's gone wrong this morning and therefore everything else that happens today will go wrong" kinds of thoughts. This quickly morphed (it had to be quick, it's only a 12 minute drive) into "we're so late." My personal feeling on being late is that it is virtually impossible to be the last one to a group event and if you're not the last one you're not really late. There was also the fact that we weren't really late.
Then the street is blocked off and panic starts to set in again. "I'm going to miss everything. Everyone else will be there." By now, I'm thinking that there's no point in injecting reality into the situation. The scene has been classified as a disaster in her mind and there's no escaping that until-
we arrive at school and the kids are gathered on the porch. All 50 boys in the class is standing there, accompanied by, wait for it, 8 girls.
I head for the graduation site, which is downtown, with my heart lightened.
The morning started with my alarm going off and screams from outside the bedroom door when my daughter realized she had overslept and had only 45 minutes to get ready. Now let me give you a dad's perspective on this sort of thing. First you go into emergency mode- you give a backrub to stop the hyperventilating. Then come in rapid succession the following thoughts:
- poor girl
- poor me
- how do I get her through this?
- I need coffee
- she needs coffee
- this would be so different if we had a boy
On the way to school fending off all the "everything's gone wrong this morning and therefore everything else that happens today will go wrong" kinds of thoughts. This quickly morphed (it had to be quick, it's only a 12 minute drive) into "we're so late." My personal feeling on being late is that it is virtually impossible to be the last one to a group event and if you're not the last one you're not really late. There was also the fact that we weren't really late.
Then the street is blocked off and panic starts to set in again. "I'm going to miss everything. Everyone else will be there." By now, I'm thinking that there's no point in injecting reality into the situation. The scene has been classified as a disaster in her mind and there's no escaping that until-
we arrive at school and the kids are gathered on the porch. All 50 boys in the class is standing there, accompanied by, wait for it, 8 girls.
I head for the graduation site, which is downtown, with my heart lightened.
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Meta in the middle
I'm a human being. I can't help it. I was born that way. All the people I know are human beings too. Call it coincidence, call it insularity, call it lack of creative spirit, but it's still true. Human beings, unlike other animals, are noted for their intra-species diversity, which is what leads to most of the joy and most of the trouble in this world. As diverse and inconsistent as human beings are, however, there is one characteristic that unites us: Put a bunch of us in a room together and we will find something to disagree about.
For someone like me who always thinks he knows what's best, I find this fascinating. And at the moment I'm involved in two intense projects, both of which are more interesting in their meta discussions than in the projects themselves.
In one case, I am part of a show that the parents of graduating seniors at a local high school put on for their kids. This is supposed to be a silly fun thing where parents sing, do skits, and generally make fools of themselves for their kids. That part of it will happen and it'll be fun and soon forgotten. The behind the scenes discussion, however, can be prickly at best and vicious and accusatory at worse. I am lucky enough to be in several acts, which puts me on a bunch of e-mail lists, so I get to see the discussions unfold.
One of the acts I'm in has been in danger of being cut from the show from the very beginning. I'm not entirely sure why, because it's short and probably the most polished act in the whole thing. But maybe because it was created without anyone asking for it or because it has no "act captain" as designated by the producer, nary a reaheasal goes by without its existence being threatened.
After the final rehearsal last night, we got the word once more and the guy who really is our acting act captain freaked. They relented grudgingly but asked us to consider shortening the act, which runs about 90 seconds to start with. This yielded an e-mail thread that began around 12:30 this morning and is now up to 33 messages, ranging from vituperative to clueless. Here are some key phrases:
We seem to have reached some kind of Kumbaya moment by late afternoon, but only after I threatened to quit the show and read entire e-mail thread at the Poetry Slam at school (with character voices).
The other discussion involves scheduling a meeting to review a new piece of the school website. What's great about this discussion is that while all of the words seem to be about scheduling a meeting, what it's really about is who's to blame that we're still trying to fix something that people knew was broken in September. It's all in the subtext.
I find it best to refrain from this kind of coded conversation. I'm not so much of a who's fault is it kind of guy (especially if I'm being blamed which I'm not in this instance) as a how can I fix it type. So I wait for the fur to stop flying and then offer to help. Fewer people end up angry with you that way.
This is good policy in general. Try to avoid participating in any sort of brouhaha while there are still sides to be chosen. The best-known corollary of this is the "Don't trash the ex" rule. You never trash your friend's ex because you never can be 100% sure that they won't become ex ex.
For someone like me who always thinks he knows what's best, I find this fascinating. And at the moment I'm involved in two intense projects, both of which are more interesting in their meta discussions than in the projects themselves.
In one case, I am part of a show that the parents of graduating seniors at a local high school put on for their kids. This is supposed to be a silly fun thing where parents sing, do skits, and generally make fools of themselves for their kids. That part of it will happen and it'll be fun and soon forgotten. The behind the scenes discussion, however, can be prickly at best and vicious and accusatory at worse. I am lucky enough to be in several acts, which puts me on a bunch of e-mail lists, so I get to see the discussions unfold.
One of the acts I'm in has been in danger of being cut from the show from the very beginning. I'm not entirely sure why, because it's short and probably the most polished act in the whole thing. But maybe because it was created without anyone asking for it or because it has no "act captain" as designated by the producer, nary a reaheasal goes by without its existence being threatened.
After the final rehearsal last night, we got the word once more and the guy who really is our acting act captain freaked. They relented grudgingly but asked us to consider shortening the act, which runs about 90 seconds to start with. This yielded an e-mail thread that began around 12:30 this morning and is now up to 33 messages, ranging from vituperative to clueless. Here are some key phrases:
To say I was fuming-pissed off is an understatement
schmaltz yourselves up a little bit
it is a power struggle
Based on the stress level and barely legitimate comments
What if we did our whole song at the dessert?
Can ______ do the intro in another language?
Sorry. I only share my guy clothes
Frank who???
We seem to have reached some kind of Kumbaya moment by late afternoon, but only after I threatened to quit the show and read entire e-mail thread at the Poetry Slam at school (with character voices).
The other discussion involves scheduling a meeting to review a new piece of the school website. What's great about this discussion is that while all of the words seem to be about scheduling a meeting, what it's really about is who's to blame that we're still trying to fix something that people knew was broken in September. It's all in the subtext.
I find it best to refrain from this kind of coded conversation. I'm not so much of a who's fault is it kind of guy (especially if I'm being blamed which I'm not in this instance) as a how can I fix it type. So I wait for the fur to stop flying and then offer to help. Fewer people end up angry with you that way.
This is good policy in general. Try to avoid participating in any sort of brouhaha while there are still sides to be chosen. The best-known corollary of this is the "Don't trash the ex" rule. You never trash your friend's ex because you never can be 100% sure that they won't become ex ex.
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Thursday, June 03, 2010
June Swoon
It's June. If God had wanted people to still be in school in June he would have...I can't think of anything, but I'm sure God never intended for people to still be in school in June. It's unnatural. To say things are running a bit ragged would be an understatement, but being around a large group of exhausted people provides unexpected comedy.
The school inexplicably sent a letter pointing out negative survey results about the school. Everyone knows that the only reasons to do a survey are to confirm what you already believe and to generate positive results that can be cherry-picked and selectively published. Any research professional will tell you this. Even if you get less than stellar results, it doesn't mean you need to tell anyone about them. And to make matters worse, some of the negative results that were circulated weren't even true, so they had to write a correction letter. Please, somebody tell me why anybody would falsely trash themselves.
The warm weather results in an inevitable collision between school dress and school dress code. The code says no shorts that end less than one inch above the knee. This arbitrary standard replaced the "must reach as far down as your fingertips" standard, which was not only arbitrary but variable. I liked that rule. Long-armed people have enough advantages in sports and getting things from high-up cabinets and a couple of extra inches on their shorts is good comeuppance.
The school combats too-short shorts with sweatpants. BIG sweatpants. During the recent warm spell, however, the administration ran out of sweatpants by 8:30 in the morning and was unable to cope with the influx of bare legs. My suggestions of covering the legs using duct tape or turning the class thermostats down to 60 degrees were both voted down and I last saw the principal rummaging through the athletic department storage closet while the legs run free. I guess the code is more like guidelines.
The school inexplicably sent a letter pointing out negative survey results about the school. Everyone knows that the only reasons to do a survey are to confirm what you already believe and to generate positive results that can be cherry-picked and selectively published. Any research professional will tell you this. Even if you get less than stellar results, it doesn't mean you need to tell anyone about them. And to make matters worse, some of the negative results that were circulated weren't even true, so they had to write a correction letter. Please, somebody tell me why anybody would falsely trash themselves.
The warm weather results in an inevitable collision between school dress and school dress code. The code says no shorts that end less than one inch above the knee. This arbitrary standard replaced the "must reach as far down as your fingertips" standard, which was not only arbitrary but variable. I liked that rule. Long-armed people have enough advantages in sports and getting things from high-up cabinets and a couple of extra inches on their shorts is good comeuppance.
The school combats too-short shorts with sweatpants. BIG sweatpants. During the recent warm spell, however, the administration ran out of sweatpants by 8:30 in the morning and was unable to cope with the influx of bare legs. My suggestions of covering the legs using duct tape or turning the class thermostats down to 60 degrees were both voted down and I last saw the principal rummaging through the athletic department storage closet while the legs run free. I guess the code is more like guidelines.
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