Playbill

Jennifer (Mama/Mama 2) Jennifer is thrilled to be back on stage in two roles for the 2008 Spring Musical Revue. She made her stage debut on her eighth birthday, as Narrator/Newscaster in a third-grade production, 16 Minutes. She dabbled in direction, staging a one-act play (title unknown) about the telephone company in fifth grade. Previous Academy credits include Debbie and Mother of Shonda in American Beauty; Messenger, Emerald City Tourist, and various technical credits in The Wiz; and orchestra (flute) in Lessons and Carols. Jennifer has been a longtime patron of the arts, but finds exceptional delight in making a fool of herself onstage. Love to Mom, Dad, and Brian!





Curtain up at 700p Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.

April/May

Industry tripped by a collection of artifacts,
letters, papers, bytes, forms,
poetry by colleagues -
one former, one current -
awash in some kind of nostalgia
and marvel at this,

this occupation,
this vocation,
this craft,

I seem to have found myself
in with little training
and even less warning.

This long parade of lasts
to borrow a line
comes and I'm still
sweeping up the scraps
of confetti and ribbons,
still picking fragments
of ticker tape from the carpets,
after the last one.


The marching cadence, it grows louder.

Sunflowers

Some sunflowers worth pulling off to the side of the road.
A month or two ago. Early evening light.
Nikon d50 SLR. Varying shutter speeds.

Meteorologica

About a week ago, with the onset of April, we had our first taste of summer. Humid mornings, towering clouds swelling to afternoon thunderstorms, temperatures in the upper 80s. I wasn't prepared. Readying myself for open-toed shoes and sandals is hard enough, much less for short sleeves and skirts. Today, though, we had another dose of winter weather. That which passes for winter in Florida: grey skies, drizzle, temperatures barely climbing out of the 60s.

In today's (however brief) return of all-day rain, things just strike me as a little more vibrant than usual. That probably has more to do with the soaking showers we had a week ago, but without the bleaching of strong overhead sun, colors seem a bit more intense today. It reminds me of California. Before the winter weather patterns arrive, the hills turn golden brown in early summer and remain that way through most of the fall. Oh, there's moisture in the air - just barely enough to sustain some kind of dormancy - but no real rain for months. When the rains do come again, green spreads itself over the hills about a week later. I remember returning from Thanksgiving in Indiana one year to see the hills had greened up in our absence; on the long approach path into San Jose from the south that parallels the 101, such delight it was to see that color again. When it does return, it's like an old friend you haven't seen in a while. You don't realize how much you had missed him until he's in your presence.


In my chemistry classes, I teach that acid-base indicators have two forms, one color in the presence of a base and another color in acid. The transition color - a blend between the two, like orange between red and yellow - isn't a separate third form, it is an equilibrium of both colors. Does spring truly exist? Perhaps spring isn't its own season distinct from winter or summer, but instead, it is equal parts both. This swing from winter into summer and back to winter will be followed by summer again - I'm hoping for at least a few days before this happens. I'm grateful for a prolonged slide into summer, but I know this reaction will inevitably go to completion. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the overstuffed clouds and the lightning. But I'll wait patiently for October.

Japanese Potatoes and Performances

I don't have time for cohesive writings on transcendentalists, but I have a few things in the works. Not on transcendentalists.

So, when I have more time, remind me to write about personality "types".

Meanwhile, tonight, I had dinner at a teppanyaki steakhouse, which was fantastic and helped quell my growing Japanese-food craving. The chef stir-fried up some cubed potatoes with my beef. I love meat-and-potatoes, but I never would have thought to add potato to Japanese food. Turns out it's really tasty.

Remind me, when I have more time, to devote a post to a directory of Central Florida restaurants I have enjoyed.

Watching the chef's performance tonight, I was reminded of a long-simmering realization: my desire for the arts is going unsatisfied - mostly a result of finances and time. When I was an undergrad, I joined a campus organization that provided ushers for shows and lectures that came to campus. As a reward for 15 minutes of "work" showing people to their seats, we ushers got to stay and watch the show. It was perfect - not only did ushering foster a talent of gracious and hospitable interaction with the public, it cultivated a taste for the performing arts. I got to see dozens of fantastic shows each year (many for which I probably wouldn't have considered buying a ticket, but was glad to have seen), for nothing! As a graduate student, I was asked to join the advisory board for the Friends of Convocations, which afforded me interaction with artists at exclusive events, too. Then we left college and spent eight years wandering an artistic desert. Fast-forward to last weekend. A colleague offered me tickets to Spamalot at the downtown performing arts center, and I realized that it was only the second time I'd ever been down there in four years. Now, I realize that I don't have a lot of free time, nor do I have a lot of disposable income (it turns out that theatre tickets in the real world are spendy!), but this is just pitiful. I really think I'm missing something in my life, and it just might be chamber music, symphonies, and touring musicals.

I don't know how to fix this. I guess I need a wealthy benefactor. Any takers?