Don't Judge

Secret Saturday

So it's Saturday, which means I'm divulging some sort of secret for your amusement, and who am I kidding, also to kind of bribe you into reading.



Ready?



It's a little embarrassing, but we cannot move on from things about which we are too afraid to talk, right?
































Just between you and me, I am terrified of people on bicycles.

It's true. When I see them flying toward me with abandon it's like they know and they try to get as close to me as possible so I can actually feel their wind. And it's even worse when they come up from behind because it happens so fast...one moment I'm walking along, minding my own business and enjoying the beautiful day, and the next there's someone whizzing past me, startling me out of my skin. Chris laughs at me when that happens because I usually emit a rather embarrassing squeal of surprise, then recoil in fear. He doesn't laugh when I see them coming and try to squeeze between him and the rail/wall/fence to place him between myself and the cyclist - then he just gets annoyed, like I choose to be this way. Let me be clear, I do not enjoy fearing for my safety when someone's out just trying to enjoy the day. I get that it's a little weird, but what can I do?

Now it's fine when a person is walking their bike near me; they're going slowly. And children on tricycles, that's okay, too. (I'm practically in love with parked bicycles.) It's the fast riders, the ones who whiz through crowds and yell at people in their way, that I can't deal with. And kids on bikes are even worse, because they're less experienced, naturally, and more reckless.

It's kind of like the time we found a shrew in our house. I love animals and we even tend to catch bugs we find indoors and set them free outside, but when it's scurrying, I'm screaming. I was sorting laundry in the front hall of our house (because the washer and dryer are located in the front hall bathroom) and when I grabbed a handful of reds to move, something small and dark scurried out from the pile and under a table. I reacted appropriately. When Chris came running in from the living room, he said it sounded like I was being stabbed and asked what was going on. I explained and we set to trying to figure out what this tiny intruder was.

Anything that scurries scares the crap out of me because I don't know what it is or where it's going. Like when a ginormous spider runs AT YOU, how do you not scream?! It's like it's going to kill you.

But once this little guy was cornered, he stayed still and we were able to investigate. Let me tell you, he was the cutest little mousey looking thing, just with a long nose, heaving all terrified in the corner. At that point I could have held him with no problem, so we wished him well and gently ushered him out the front door (which means we opened the door and blocked all other routes until he was out).

So maybe there's a connection between bicyclists and things that scurry. When someone on a bike is barreling toward me, I'm suddenly panic-struck and don't know which way to go, so I generally move as far away as possible, which sometimes means huddling into the bushes. I know it's sad, but I'm that scared they'll hit me. I must ask for credit, however, for not screaming when said bike is closing in on me because I could, I really could. Usually, however, I'm able to stifle the scream into what Chris sees as a dramatic gasp and scared humming until the danger passes. It's difficult to hide when I'm with someone who doesn't know about this fear.

The only incident I can recall that might have contributed to this phobia happened my first year of college. I was walking to class and some guy on a bike was coming toward me on the sidewalk, and after doing a quick little which-way-you-gonna-go dance, we crashed into each other. It was embarrassing and scary. So maybe that's it? I'm just not sure why it's stuck around for so long.

So that's my secret for today. If you know me in real life, I would appreciate it if you didn't attack me on your bicycle, because at this point, that would just be mean.

Bicycles in Italy

Whatever I Feel Like Friday

I had big plans for the first WIFLF but I’m running short on time. The first week of this 30 day commitment has required a lot more time than I anticipated, and likely more than it’ll require in the future once this schedule becomes routine. And I’m loving it, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve been putting so much time trying to make each day’s post something worthwhile I’ve not been putting much into writing anything else. And I’ve got assigned writing and a manuscript to work on.

This, of course, isn't your problem, but a necessary explanation for today's short and sweet (and frankly, quite random) blurb. I've actually been working today on something I wanted to post, but it isn't ready, and whereas I really am the type who needs to just write it and post it, this one requires a little more care. It'll have to wait for another day, because honestly, I'm exhausted and my brain is slightly fried.

So what do I feel like writing about today? Well you read the title, right?

I love photographing bicycles, but only in Italy. We lived just outside of Pisa, Italy for about five years and although I rather enjoy the reasonable and relatively safe way Germans drive, I do miss bits of the chaos that is Italia. People ride bikes in Germany all the time, but there's something about an old, slightly rusted bicycle left leaning against a weathered door or stone wall that's just poetic to me. You see in Germany most people ride nice, modern bicycles that just don't have the same romantic rusticity to them. No, Italian bicycles are one of those things I always loved coming across while we were there, and still when we visit. 

These photos are the only three on my current computer (the rest are hiding on a separate hard drive somewhere), and these I took two springs ago on a weekend trip to Bella Italia with a couple friends. 

I have no idea why I love them so much, the rusted chariots that take on a whole new and terrible meaning once peopled (this will make more sense after tomorrow's post goes up). For whatever reason, these bicycles symbolize to me the rustic charm that characterizes my first real home away from home, left unchained in a hall or in the street, because people look out for one another in general. It should be said that these particular bicycles live in small villages along the Mediterranean Sea, and though quite popular in the tourist season, they still maintain their small town feel. Meaning, everyone knows whose bike that is and that you're not from here, so it's best you keep moving. Unless you're some weird American girl taking pictures of our neighbor's old bicycle, in which case, have at it.

As a writer, you might assume that I look at them and wonder about who rides them or where they're going next, but I don't. I'm drawn only to the simple object that is the old and loved bicycle in a country where there may be graffiti on thousand year-old relics, trash in the street, and gypsy children forever eying your pockets, but also where your neighbors will pull you in off the street to force feed you and show you photographs of their new grandchild. She lives in America because her daughter married an American man; her name is Tina, she lives in Washington - do you know her?

Thanks, Kevin Spacey, for saving my life.

It's Thankful Thursday, and this one's a whole lot harder than I first expected it to be. Of course I have a ton to be grateful for, but I'm pretty sure it's a better read for you, dear reader, if I write about something a little less sappy and a little more entertaining. Here's hoping this'll do!

********************************

It was 1999, and my final Spring Break of high school. A friend of mine was moderately obsessed with Kevin Spacey at the time so for an early graduation gift, her mother sent her off to New York City for a few days to see Mr. Spacey in The Iceman Cometh on Broadway. She also got to bring a friend, and that friend was me.

We were two eighteen year-olds on our own in Manhattan - it was fantastic. We stayed at the Renaissance New York Times Square Hotel, had no parents there to tell us when to come home, and walked around like we owned the place. Getting asked for directions only made it all the more clear: We could totally be New Yorkers one day.

The Iceman Cometh was in its preview run a couple of weeks before the official opening and we were there to see it. I could cut and paste a little synopsis here because I don't remember what it was about, but that's not really the point of the story, is it? Fast forward to after the curtain came down, and we scurried out front of the Brooks Atkinson Theatre, playbills in hand, to collect Mr. Spacey's John Hancock. Sadly, the crowd had already formed by the time we got there, and although we were able to reach through the people when his highness emerged from the stage door to get our playbills signed (if you consider an illegible scribble a signature), there was no talking to the actor. And isn't that what every fan really wants? To engage in the smallest bit of dialogue on which to base an imaginary relationship? We hung around and watched a few other actors trail out before heading back to the hotel. Had I known at the time who Paul Giamatti was, I would have asked him to sign my playbill, as well. And although I knew Tony Danza from his Who's The Boss days, I was somehow unimpressed by his presence. (Weird, since I'm easily starstruck.) The star of that night turned out to be Robert Sean Leonard (My Best Friend is a Vampire, Dead Poets Society, House), but that's another story. Focus, damnit!

The following night we got tickets to see Brian Dennehy and Elizabeth Franz in Death of a Salesman. (This is relevant, I promise.) Now Brian Dennehy I knew from Cocoon (1985), but apparently Ms. Franz was a big deal actress that I should have know, but didn't. Anyway, the play was great and let out just a tad earlier than Iceman around the corner, so instead of waiting around for more autographs, we hightailed it back to the actors' exit door at Iceman to get another chance to rub elbows with the stars.

It was perfect - the show hadn't gotten out yet, so we were the only ones there for the first few minutes. My Spacey-obsessed friend suddenly became too cool to stand with me once people started coming out of the theatre, so I hung out by myself right at the barricade meant to keep the common folk from getting too close to the talent. The crowd grew thicker, as did the anticipation. Every time the door squeaked open everyone held their breath (you could actually hear it) until someone other than Kevin Spacey walked out, to their disappointment. The sad part was every actor who wasn't Kevin Spacey knew who everybody was hoping for, and acknowledged it. I was just thrilled to be right up front, so I was content to wait it out. Mr. Giamatti and Mr. Danza emerged and signed playbills, but the frenzy didn't really begin until the star of the show appeared.

When Kevin peeked out from behind the door, the people went a little nutty. Looking ridiculously sharp in his immaculate suit, he casually waltzed toward his adoring crowd smiling, waving hello and thank you, and was about to start accepting playbills and Sharpies, when my impending doom revealed itself. At the sight of Mr. Spacey, the crowd of people behind me lurched forward as crazy fans tend to do, so I could forgive them that. But what I had trouble with was that I'd been pushed so hard, I was involuntarily doubled over the wooden barricade, my arm swinging to catch myself so that I actually smacked Kevin Spacey with my hand. He stopped and turned to see who'd hit him to find me struggling to stand back up straight, smiling up at him and apologizing for the smack. And then Kevin Spacey talked to me.

"Are you being squashed?" he asked. And he was totally concerned, I could tell.

"Kind of," I replied, concentrating very hard on keeping cool.

And then Kevin Spacey single-handedly saved me from being smashed to death by a killer fan mob. He looked at them and said with authority, "People, back up. You're squashing this poor girl."

And they did. Back up I mean, not squash.

Then he asked if I was alright, and could he sign my playbill, and I was all, Thanks, but you already signed mine last night. I really enjoyed the play, by the way. 

Then he was all like, I'm so glad, and that's how we became best friends for life.

The best part, aside from the fact that my life was spared by an Oscar winning actor, was that I'd behaved totally cool, like I could care less this famous actor was talking to me. Yes, starstruck easily but cool as a cucumber on the spot. I'm pretty awesome. Also, my friend was fiercely jealous of Kevin's and my newfound friendship and I had a great time talking about it for the rest of the trip.

Kevin as "Hickey" in The Iceman Cometh; image borrowed from PlayBill.com

Kevin Spacey, you starred in my very first Broadway play, and a couple of my favorite movies, too. You could have passed me by that March night in 1999, turning a blind eye to the mayhem, and not getting yourself involved with the carnage of Broadway fans, but you didn't. You looked at me and saw a young girl in a vulnerable position (in more ways than one) and you, sir, took action.

And for that, I thank you.

Mom

Wordless Wednesday

The Fringe

For the first Travel Tuesday I'm going back to the Fringe Fest in Edinburgh, Scotland. Perhaps not a travel post in its purest sense, this is certainly a destination for someone looking for a place to visit where they can see classical opera, feminist burlesque, and an improvised musical in the same day. Having just gotten home from this trip, it's the freshest in my mind and I can't believe I haven't blogged about it before. This was our second time at the Fringe, and you know you've found something you love when you're already planning next year's visit half-way through the current one.

The Fringe Fest is the world's largest arts festival where for three weeks every August, you can find everything from stand-up comedy to photo exhibits, musicals to dance, cabaret to art events to move and entertain you. It's not just in the playhouses and halls where you'll laugh or cry yourself silly; these shows happen in club spaces, university lecture halls (or classrooms, for that matter), pubs, coffee houses, and even some churches. The population of Edinburgh is said to triple every August as thousands of performers of all kinds pour in to put on their shows, and thousands more eager Fringe-goers follow close behind, thirsty for entertainment.

It should be said that August is not just for the Fringe, but also a handful of other international festivals, to include the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, Book Festival, Art Festival, and International Festival, which brings even more opera, classical music, theatre, and dance to the city. This year there was even a cinematic addition to the Fringe, called Cinefringe, where you could attend screenings of new independent film shorts. Needless to say, you won't get bored if you happen into Edinburgh in August, unless you hate being entertained and you hate fun. Then you should just stay home.

2011 - a troupe warming up while we breakfasted at Mum's

Walking through the streets of Edinburgh during this time is like being in another world. It seems everyone is a performer and everyone supports their fellow artist in such an exuberant way. In addition to the regulars of the Royal Mile (dancing, juggling, playing a statue), there are a thousand more visiting actors, comedians, dancers, singers, cabaret divas, mimes, writers, musicians, and storytellers filling in the space. The very people who act out the scenes are the ones handing out the flyers, talking to you about their show and giving you a little piece of what you can expect if you give their show a try. For someone like me who gets very easily starstruck, it's crazy exciting to actually have a conversation with someone I've seen act or sing or give a stand-up show. It's a mix of established (and sometimes well-known) performers and newcomers trying to carve out their place in the business, and everyone's having a great time. Shows start early (admittedly, usually the kid shows), and some go well into the night. It isn't strange to walk out of your final show at 3am and then go for a bite. Granted, the only option might be the La Favorita Pizza cart, but that pizza is great at 3pm, and amazing at 3am.

Our first time to Fringe was August 2011, and being the newbies we were, we booked shows that made it necessary to literally run across Edinburgh to make it on time. This year, however, we were smart - I even made a spreadsheet, and what a difference. Here's a rough guide if you'd like a little help with your own planning:




Step One: Comb through the intimidating Fringe catalogue section by section and list out the shows you MUST see. Base this on gut instincts, prior knowledge, and reviews.

Step Two: Fill in calendar of your time there with each of the shows you tentatively picked in the appropriate time slot, and be sure to note the duration. (Some time slots might have multiple shows listed. This was good, it shows all the possibilities.)

Step Three: Take the venue map and attempt to arrange show schedule in a way that allows you to stay in the same general area of town. This means you're not running 8 miles to get to the next show in fifteen minutes, and that you'll be fitting in 'relax and have a drink' breaks between shows.

Step Four: Only buy tickets ahead for events that you know you absolutely must see, or shows that seem to be selling out. It's amazing how many more shows you'll hear about once you're there that you'll want to fit in, so leave yourself some space to buy tickets on the spot.

2012 - take a flyer; see my show

Keep in mind that there are also an abundance of free shows going on during Fringe, so that's always a bonus. "Free" means there's no ticket or cover charge to get in, but you'll be asked to throw in what you think it was worth as you leave. If you have no problem walking past a struggling comedian with children to feed without dropping some cash in the hat, yeah for you and your cold, cold heart. We always toss in £10 or so, depending on how much we liked the show. Of course, it's up to you.

This year's line-up for us, to give you a taste of what there is to see, with the catalogue description:

The ones we bought tickets for ahead of time -

Tumble Circus 

"No fanfare or sequins, just extraordinary skill from two acrobats on a lifelong adventure."

Billy the Mime

'A one-man variety show depicting the most taboo and controversial stories of our culture.' (NewYorkTheater.com)

Sh*t-Faced Shakespeare

"An entirely serious Shakespeare play ... with an entirely sh*t-faced actor. The legendary Tax Deductible Theatre stagger back to the Fringe with the most raucous Shakespearean performance you'll ever witness!"

Doug Segal: How to Read Minds and Influence People

"Last year's sell out hit returns! A mind reading show unlike any other! Learn to read minds, detect lies and more."

One Man Star Wars Trilogy

"Charles Ross returns with the ever-popular show in which he single-handedly plays all the characters, sings the music, flies the ships, fights the battles and condenses the plots of the first three Star Wars movies into just 60 minutes."

CineFringe Film Festival   

                                     

Knee Deep  

"Australia's hottest new circus company... Walking on eggs, flying from the sky and breathtaking physical magic."                 

                                    

Hannibal Buress: Still Saying Stuff

"Brand new, razor-sharp stand-up show from 2011 Foster's Newcomer nominee, star of The Secret Policeman's Ball and comedy writer for NBC's Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock, Hannibal Buress. Generating laughs through his trademark combination of minimalist delivery and absurdist logic, Hannibal guarantees he'll be saying all the stuff you're hearing."

Daughters of Lot 

"A modern day burlesque act with a twist. The entertainment begins as a sexy and silly retelling of an ancient story, until the performers do a trick that requires more than flexibility. Part Brecht, part Bible, part Suicide Girls, Daughters of Lot is ... titillating, perplexing and [a] vexing exploration of the ways women are taught to be women. Brain Melt Consortium is an NYC-based arts group interested in creating projects that engage audiences in new and evocative ways."

Boom Boom Club

"Cabaret, live music, promenade performance and after-hours revelry... present a three-room immersive extravaganza. Spectacular sideshow, surreal comedy and heart-breaking song rub shoulders at the party which never ends."

Monkey Bars 

"We asked 30 eight to 10-year-olds to tell us about their lives, their thoughts, their world. In Monkey Bars, their words are spoken by adults. Not adults playing children, but adults playing adults, in adult situations. Funny, endlessly surprising, deeply touching, this is a verbatim piece with a revelatory twist."

Lost in the '80s

"Witty, jazzed-up renditions of classic 80s hits. Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, George Michael, AC/DC, Culture Club and more get a gypsy swing makeover from this platinum-selling Canadian trio. Awe-inspiring musicianship delivered with thoroughly charming humour.

Dylan Moran

"Following his smash hit sell-out tour, Dylan Moran, star of Black Books, Shaun of the Dead and Run Fat Boy Run, returns to the Festival. Ageing, religion, kids, relationships intertwine with the general absurdities of life. Searing observations and sumptuous imagery, painted across a large fraying canvas with cruel, curmudgeonly Moranesque brush strokes and all delivered with Dylan's renowned, shambolic charm… It's simply unmissable."

Don't worry, you've not gone crazy. Dylan Moran isn't actually in this picture, as photography wasn't allowed during the show. This is just the stage at the Edinburgh Playhouse before the show got started. 

The ones we went to on the spot -                                   

Nick Beaton: Does Not Play Well With Others

"Not deterred by the social norms of middle class morality, Beaton isn’t afraid to talk about all the things that make us human with blunt hilarious honesty. This is not a show for the uptight or faint of heart. It will be an unapologetic onslaught of both anger and humility. No one and nothing is sacred."

Eat $h*t: How Our Waste Can Save the World

"Step aside Al Gore, the environment has a new champion! The PURU - his honest potty humour tackles the global sanitation crisis."

John Gavin

comedian

The Girl With No Heart

"Their city is made of paper, as are their hearts. The children seek to rebuild an ash-filled world by folding one paper brick at a time. A world where a child's heart holds the power for immeasurable good or unimaginable destruction. From award-winning writer Louisa Ashton, critically acclaimed Sparkle and Dark present a stark yet beautiful fable, with original writing, puppetry, live music and shadow-play." 

Diane Spencer: Exquisite Bad Taste

"Award-winning comedian Diane Spencer returns with her hilarious new show about perspective. Part autobiographical, all stand-up from a rising star compared to Joan Rivers and Sarah Millican."

Me, Diane, & Chris outside her show

                               

...and we wish we could have fit more in.

There's something rather freeing about being in a city bursting at the seams with artists. There is music being played at all times from one corner of the city or the other, and actors falling into impromptu scenes in the middle of the street. And the more shows you see, the more familiar faces you pass as you stroll from venue to venue. Strangers become friendly with easy smiles of recognition and a mutual appreciation for the arts.

Your pockets and bags are stuffed full of flyers, and you've got an hour between now and your next booked show to fill...maybe a comedy show? Or maybe just a drink in the Magners Pasture over by the Gilded Balloon. 

I can only imagine what the Fringe must be like for the performers, though you hear their stories of all night celebrations, especially at the open and close of the events. For a few weeks, people come from all over and fill up rooms in houses and hotels to be a part of this huge festival, and I'm so glad we live close enough to make going to Fringe a habit.

didn't see the show, but loved the poster

Fringe...where you'll have such a good time, you might just lose your mustache.

And also where you can enjoy a deep fried Mars bar in the middle of the night without shame.

Mazel Tov, Melanie & Kristin!

Although my background isn't one that includes speaking Hebrew or Yiddish, I figure most people get what I mean when I say, "Mazel Tov." Literally translated, mazel tov means something closer to "good luck," but it's more commonly used to say "congratulations," and that's how I'm using it here. This is a place where I can throw a little recognition at people who deserve it, people who are doing something worthwhile, something I respect and who am I kidding, am a little jealous I didn't think of first.

This Mazel Tov Monday is for Melanie Crutchfield and Kristin Brumm, of melaniecrutchfield.com and Wanderlust, respectively. Why these two women? I'm so glad you asked.

Melanie Crutchfield, a writer and designer in San Diego, California, decided she was going to invite some of her blogger friends to write about hope when the Olympics first kicked off this past summer in London. Although I can't say what she expected, I'd like to think she was just as blown away as I was when the time came to sit back and take in the grand list of all the blog posts written during this two week period sharing, defining and celebrating what hope is to us. I applaud her initiative to gather stories of hope and give them a place to hang out together. Because regardless of the dictionary definition of the word hope, this "teeny, tiny word [can] unfurl in a thousand different ways" (Melanie Crutchfield, Hope 2012: Closing Ceremonies). When people take the time to organize things like this, it's a wonderful reminder that distance and time don't have to be hinderances when it comes to making connections. Now, anyone can find Melanie's Closing Ceremonies post and read through one hundred snippets from different posts about hope, then follow those links that speak to them and read the words of someone they might feel connected to, if only within the span of those handful of sentences that someone decided to share with the world. No matter where we're from and who we are, there are certain undeniable aspects of life we all share, and laying out these kinds of stories to be found, read, embraced and maybe even understood is a pretty fantastic way of making more visible the things that connect us all.

So thanks again, Melanie. I love that a little piece of my hope made it into this ingenius relay, and here's to more future endeavors that share the redeeming aspects of life.


Kristin Brumm, a writer and California girl living in Australia, is a woman who uses her blog to write through the personal turmoil in her life, and in doing so, has touched countless others battling similar monsters. Instead of allowing the circumstances she's faced trample her into the dirt, she has stood up and become stronger, connecting with others and getting involved in initiatives aimed at shedding light where the shadows tend to take over. Kristin was the spokesperson for Speak Out, a campaign that generated awareness of domestic violence in November of 2011, educating and encouraging abuse victims to step out of the shadows. She has also recently launched Healing through Storytelling, a blog directory on her blog site "where readers can easily locate and connect with bloggers who write about a variety of challenging life experiences such as illness, grief, addiction, trauma and abuse"(Kristin Brumm). Being a victim takes away your power; this woman is a survivor, and shares her own struggles not only to bolster her own strength, but to lend it to others. And again, by organizing a place where stories of struggle and survival can hang together, she has created a wonderful resource for those battling addiction, grief, abuse, and hardship, a place where connections are possible and only a click away. 

These are two of the many fantastic people out there who are making a difference by encouraging connections in this hi-tech world. It's a sad fact that bad news travels quicker than good, and people are far too often remembered for screw-ups rather than successes, so this is me raising my glass to these two amazing women for reaching out and making a positive difference for others. Thank you.

And Mazel Tov, Kristin and Melanie, on being inspirations! 

The 30 Day Commitment...Again

It's 2am and I can't sleep.

What better time to get caught up reading blogs and funny articles online. And to realize I'm not writing as much as I want or should. It's time for another one of those 30 day commitments to establish the daily habit. Daily...that sounds scary, but I've done it before. I've been worrying lately about this blog, that it really isn't about anything, but I suppose I can continue to use it for whatever I need it to be for a bit longer. Then when I become a famous author, it'll be charming and quirky.

Right?

In an attempt to be better organized, perhaps some guidelines for said daily posts would be good. Also, planning and organizing gives me a (false) sense of control and achievement. But I'm really going to try to stick to this. So stop by? Please?

Mazel Tov Monday - for throwing the focus on someone else...another blog, another writer, someone I feel like pointing the good job stick at.

Travel Tuesday - for travel related posts.

Wordless Wednesday - an idea borrowed from The Bloggess, for photos or doodles meant to inspire or confuse. (Even if you've had a blog for a while, like me, this video is still super helpful.)

Thankful Thursday - because gratitude doesn't always come naturally.

Whatever I Feel Like Friday 

Secret Saturday - for telling you secrets just to make you feel special for popping by :)

Sunday (sorry, no fun alliterational title) - lessons learned during the week, because it should never stop, right?

There. These are the blog goals to get me back into writing every single day, and hopefully starting each day here will get me going to jump straight over into Silent Refuge (the YA novel I'm currently revising).

Ready?

...

Give me a few days to wrap my head around the fact that I just posted this?

Get ready, Mazel Tov Monday. I'm coming for you.