So, as you all know, I live under a rock. It's pretty pathetic really that I get my news from Facebook. Any famous celebrity death - Facebook. Terrorism - Facebook. Politics - Facebook. Seems like the feed is quite current so it is something. It's not perfect, but I'll take it to nothing.
A few days ago, the feeds of Pokemon Go started. At first I thought it was something negative but I wasn't sure. As the feeds increased and I couldn't make out what was going on, I decided to ask someone in my office. Then I found out that a few people were robbed while they were trying to capture Pokemons. "For real?" was my question. First off, it's quite sad about the robbery. Secondly, it's quite sad that people are losing their minds over this game and trying to capture Pokemons. I had declared that the young people had officially lost it and future generations would have to pay for this millennial generation that's only interested in their phones and the games.
Then, I heard a different point of view. Apparently businesses were using it and luring Pokemon and in turn customers and the ROI (Return on Investment) was crazy high. Owning my business, I had to think outside the box and try out something that I had declared was the end of civilization as we knew it. In the beginning, I was asking to use my assistant's phone to see what this game was all about. My assistant was like, "Dr. TTR, just download the app on your phone and then you can see what it's all about." I refused. She finally showed me the app. Meanwhile, I was asking family/friends about everything Pokemon. Should my office lure these creatures? Would it really increase foot traffic?
Then my cousin told me that it was important that I start playing right away and also that my office girls should too. So, I've been playing and it's kinda addictive. I'm at Costco and I just pull my app out for the heck of it and I'm catching Pokemon there! I caught one! My iPhone battery is pretty much no use these days. Will last me 5 minutes on a full charge if I'm using it. So, when the second Pokemon showed up, I was at 29%. Before I could throw the ball at him, my phone died. Oh well... It's strange, but I find myself on my phone a lot. Has a Pokemon showed up yet? There may be no hope for me. We'll see. This coming from a woman who swore to not play and to not get addicted. They do say, never say never.
Until next time,
TTR
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Monday, July 4, 2016
Writing again
I am taking a break from writing my play to write this blog post, but interesting thing with my blogger. It's all wompus! The stats have gone psychotic. In the past, it used to show a few reads (1-3) per day and today, it has all been deleted and shows almost 1000 reads for just today. Yes, it's gone nutsoes. I have no stats anymore. It is just as well because I was beginning to define myself by the stats. If someone read it, then great. I was doing well. If someone didn't read it, I was pathetic. The thing is that blogger has these settings that I can't see if anyone follows me or has signed up for my blog unless they do it through G+ and so I've pretty much had inaccurate stats. I need to hit up on my nephew to help me figure out a way to get some decent stats on this page. Or maybe I should stop this stat conversation and stop defining my worth by them.
The reason for this post. No reason. Just that I'm writing again. I started this 10 minute play yesterday and I didn't like it at all. I just went through the motions, forcing myself to write. Today, I went back to that play and suddenly, my characters came alive and it was a wonderful feeling. The play is not done but it's close. So close. I need to tie up some lose ends and it should be good to submit. Usually, I would take it to the writer's group for critique and people would tear it apart and I would let it get to me. Maybe, I don't have as thick a skin. I'm not submitting for critique. This is my work and as I've said before in my first post, take it or leave it. A playwright/author has a right to his/her story. I feel with critiques, people want to make it their story, but I've finally realized that it's not their story. If they want their story, they should write it themselves. I sound a bit arrogant, clueless and defensive at the same time, but that's me. I'm just excited to get some of my juices flowing again. I hope this will continue.
I think the long weekend and 5 days of silence has helped me immensely. Of course, working on the HMS Victory is also helping. Speaking of the ship, I haven't forgotten. I do have new pictures, but I will wait till I get more in detail. I will say this. I have finished the first part of the ship - the hull. Now it's time for rigging and sails. I am beyond excited.
Another rant, but it's getting words out.
Later all,
TTR
The reason for this post. No reason. Just that I'm writing again. I started this 10 minute play yesterday and I didn't like it at all. I just went through the motions, forcing myself to write. Today, I went back to that play and suddenly, my characters came alive and it was a wonderful feeling. The play is not done but it's close. So close. I need to tie up some lose ends and it should be good to submit. Usually, I would take it to the writer's group for critique and people would tear it apart and I would let it get to me. Maybe, I don't have as thick a skin. I'm not submitting for critique. This is my work and as I've said before in my first post, take it or leave it. A playwright/author has a right to his/her story. I feel with critiques, people want to make it their story, but I've finally realized that it's not their story. If they want their story, they should write it themselves. I sound a bit arrogant, clueless and defensive at the same time, but that's me. I'm just excited to get some of my juices flowing again. I hope this will continue.
I think the long weekend and 5 days of silence has helped me immensely. Of course, working on the HMS Victory is also helping. Speaking of the ship, I haven't forgotten. I do have new pictures, but I will wait till I get more in detail. I will say this. I have finished the first part of the ship - the hull. Now it's time for rigging and sails. I am beyond excited.
Another rant, but it's getting words out.
Later all,
TTR
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Grand Center Theatre Crawl
Last night I was very proud to be a St. Louisan. Several theatre companies got together to present a small sampling of their works. Of course, First Run Theatre was there presenting a couple of their 15 minute premieres and so were a host of other theatre organizations. With 19 choices, but only 6 slots to go to, well, my husband and I hung around the main area and got to watch several original works. I guess that was how things worked out. We had constraints on breaking fast and eating, so we had to make it to locations at or close to the restaurant and that's not the point of this post at all.
I was very impressed by all the works presented. St. Louis showed me their talent last night and there's a part of that talent that talks to me. One part says, stop writing. Quit while you are ahead. The other part of me says, take the challenge and push yourself and your story beyond your comfort zone. It's going to be OK. I don't know. I think about my short story "Terminal Illness" and am trying to figure out a way to create a more realistic story arc, and perhaps a way to touch people and move them past themselves. It's really a lesson to myself. What would the story of "Terminal Illness" teach me and how would I grow from it? I don't know the answers. If I did, I would have a great play already. Forever haunting me would be "Dilapidated Castle". I've decided to kill Salman, one of my characters but where would that leave me? Writing is hard. I take that back. Writing is easy. It's a piece of cake. Honest, from the heart, gut wrenching, I cannot believe I wrote that type of writing is difficult. Very difficult. Extremely difficult. It exposes every element of yourself and it's not even like standing naked in front of an audience. It's far more intimate than that. It's allowing the audience to watch your naked soul and how does one even do that? If one were able to do that, how do you face the world again? They say, our fears hold us back. For me, it's more than fear. It's that trust when you go into an operation and allow the surgeon to cut into you and allow the world to see. Sometimes, in very rare moments, I feel I have it in me. I feel I want to express myself in ways I have never done. Sometimes, I just want to run and hide and all I can say to myself is "hell no! Double hell no!"
Funny thing is that when the writer in me wins out, I will write, but again, it'll be in a password protected document for no one to find out, even when I'm gone. Or maybe, just maybe, I may be OK in death. After all, I won't be here to face the audience and I will never have to face the audience in that case.
Ahhh, but I think about one of my favorite faculty members in dental school; a gentleman who is no more. Dr. Lancaster was privy to my first version of "The Color of Rain" when it was still called "I love you". I will never forget what he said to me. "What are you doing here?" What was I doing in dental school? I was studying to be a dentist. What else could I have been doing in dental school. What do people do at school? Here I am, over 15 years later. I make a living by being a dentist and yet, I am most moved by the written word. To me, if I were to be able to write and move people, that would be the world itself. Sometimes, I feel like I'm watching it go by. I tell myself I don't have it in me. Here I am in my silence, sitting at a table, clacking away at the keyboard - writing. It's a start. I'll take it for now.
Best to you all,
TTR
I was very impressed by all the works presented. St. Louis showed me their talent last night and there's a part of that talent that talks to me. One part says, stop writing. Quit while you are ahead. The other part of me says, take the challenge and push yourself and your story beyond your comfort zone. It's going to be OK. I don't know. I think about my short story "Terminal Illness" and am trying to figure out a way to create a more realistic story arc, and perhaps a way to touch people and move them past themselves. It's really a lesson to myself. What would the story of "Terminal Illness" teach me and how would I grow from it? I don't know the answers. If I did, I would have a great play already. Forever haunting me would be "Dilapidated Castle". I've decided to kill Salman, one of my characters but where would that leave me? Writing is hard. I take that back. Writing is easy. It's a piece of cake. Honest, from the heart, gut wrenching, I cannot believe I wrote that type of writing is difficult. Very difficult. Extremely difficult. It exposes every element of yourself and it's not even like standing naked in front of an audience. It's far more intimate than that. It's allowing the audience to watch your naked soul and how does one even do that? If one were able to do that, how do you face the world again? They say, our fears hold us back. For me, it's more than fear. It's that trust when you go into an operation and allow the surgeon to cut into you and allow the world to see. Sometimes, in very rare moments, I feel I have it in me. I feel I want to express myself in ways I have never done. Sometimes, I just want to run and hide and all I can say to myself is "hell no! Double hell no!"
Funny thing is that when the writer in me wins out, I will write, but again, it'll be in a password protected document for no one to find out, even when I'm gone. Or maybe, just maybe, I may be OK in death. After all, I won't be here to face the audience and I will never have to face the audience in that case.
Ahhh, but I think about one of my favorite faculty members in dental school; a gentleman who is no more. Dr. Lancaster was privy to my first version of "The Color of Rain" when it was still called "I love you". I will never forget what he said to me. "What are you doing here?" What was I doing in dental school? I was studying to be a dentist. What else could I have been doing in dental school. What do people do at school? Here I am, over 15 years later. I make a living by being a dentist and yet, I am most moved by the written word. To me, if I were to be able to write and move people, that would be the world itself. Sometimes, I feel like I'm watching it go by. I tell myself I don't have it in me. Here I am in my silence, sitting at a table, clacking away at the keyboard - writing. It's a start. I'll take it for now.
Best to you all,
TTR
Friday, July 1, 2016
The Muny
I have written about The Muny before but there's something compelling about this summer venue that makes me want to write about the experience over and over and over again. Last night the show was 42nd street. A classic from the early 1930s. There's something about a crisp, clean, story that lingers on in the mind. There's something about good old fashioned tap dance numbers with a large cast. There's just something about watching a musical in a very chill atmosphere eating some fruits while you swing and beat to the rhythm. The weather last night was perfect and that added to the phenomenal musical theatre experience.
Every time I step into the Muny I'm flooded with warm memories and I'm reminded about why I love this place in St. Louis more than any other. It's not just the charm and artistry of the show; the people I go with is a large part of my experience. I still remember watching Chicago with my friend, giggling like school girls. I remember eating strawberries and cucumbers with my cousin. I remember getting some family together and making a mini picnic before the show. Every year that tickets come out, I decide on who the designated person would be for which show. This is my sixth year as a subscriber and amazing enough, this year has been a scramble. I'm taking my husband to most of the shows. The people I've taken in the past years are either not available or not interested and I think about what the Muny means to me. I guess, it's not the same for everyone. It was love at first show for me. I was a subscriber as soon as I discovered this jewel. It's not the same for those who have accompanied me. Some have loved it and some have declined a return visit. This is when I think - to each their own.
I know people who spend a lot of money on sports and I guess I'm not one of those people. I'm in the small, exception of masses who could care less about who hit how many balls or threw how many in a basket. There will always be more people who care about that than the arts, but that is life. I'm just one that's stuck on the other side of the fence.
Well, next week, I'm headed to The Music Man. I can't wait to hear 76 trombones vibrate through the stands. It's going to be another glorious night and another glorious memory.
For now, I'm signing out,
TTR
Every time I step into the Muny I'm flooded with warm memories and I'm reminded about why I love this place in St. Louis more than any other. It's not just the charm and artistry of the show; the people I go with is a large part of my experience. I still remember watching Chicago with my friend, giggling like school girls. I remember eating strawberries and cucumbers with my cousin. I remember getting some family together and making a mini picnic before the show. Every year that tickets come out, I decide on who the designated person would be for which show. This is my sixth year as a subscriber and amazing enough, this year has been a scramble. I'm taking my husband to most of the shows. The people I've taken in the past years are either not available or not interested and I think about what the Muny means to me. I guess, it's not the same for everyone. It was love at first show for me. I was a subscriber as soon as I discovered this jewel. It's not the same for those who have accompanied me. Some have loved it and some have declined a return visit. This is when I think - to each their own.
I know people who spend a lot of money on sports and I guess I'm not one of those people. I'm in the small, exception of masses who could care less about who hit how many balls or threw how many in a basket. There will always be more people who care about that than the arts, but that is life. I'm just one that's stuck on the other side of the fence.
Well, next week, I'm headed to The Music Man. I can't wait to hear 76 trombones vibrate through the stands. It's going to be another glorious night and another glorious memory.
For now, I'm signing out,
TTR
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)