Wednesday, October 31, 2012
vLog 2: Hrappy Hralloweeeeen!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
vLog 1: So Random I Can't Think of a Good Title
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
On y Go!
So I was in Canadur this weekend. This land is known to most as Canada, but that's too normal for me. The trip was with my French class, so it was fun. Upon departure, our instructor declared "on y go!" With our best quizzical look on, he told us that's its a thing in France. "On y va" would be an equivalent to "let's go", so they mixed it to "on y go"...
On the way there, we stopped at a rest area and ran into the parents of one of my best friends from home...small world! They were going to visit their daughter at McGill.
The first night, we went to a restaurant called Zero-8. If French, this is pronounced Zéro-Huit. Like zero-wheat. Which is amusing because it is a restaurant that is allergen free, and people can be allergic to wheat. So, like, no wheat....I thought it was funny. It really is that there are eight allergens that they avoid, so yeah. I had brusccetta and steak-frites. Also, because the drinking age in Canadur is 18, I enjoyed a mojito with the bruscceta and a cabernet sauvingon with the steak-frites. Now don't go thinking that I partake in under-age drinking, because I don't. But in Canada, it was perfectly legal. So I win.
The next day, we walked around Vieux Montréal. I got this really cool ring and I like it! I also got this thing that you like paint on with water and then it evaporates and can be used like a bunch. It's called a Buddha Board and it's kind of epic. We stopped in a Starbucks, where I ordered in near perfect French a chocolatirie and a green tea frap. The only thing was when I was asked which size I wanted, I responded with a "what?" The person taking my order was all like....you speak English?! It was great. I checked my email to find that my English teacher from last year who has cancer that is almost definitely terminal got his book published! (It is called Counterfeit Kids and it is by Rod Baird. Read it. No, seriously, go and read it and come back to this post later.)I was happy that he got published and also sad because he is dying. It is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and that's not just because I know the writer. We went to lunch after that at Papillion and I had a lasagna. It was only ok, but I really liked the pink zinfandel I had with it. After that, we saw Theâtre de Neveau Mondé's production of "Les Femmes Savantes" by Molière. I only understood the body language and like seven of the words. We went back to the youth hostel we were staying at and I read the first 75% of the book while some of the others went out to dinner. Once they came back, those of us who hadn't eaten yet went out. We were just looking for a place with drinks and food, and were very surprised by the lack of open places on one of the more major streets- Rue Ste. Catherine. Finally, we thought we had found one place, and when they asked for ID, I and the other girl showed ours and were okay'd, but the boy with us is Muslim and does not drink because of it, and did not have an ID because he didn't think he would get carded because he wasn't drinking. So we had to leave that place. We found this great little retro restaurant and it was fabulous. I got a bacon cheeseburger and a beer that I had never heard of, which was awesome. The girl ordered kamikaze shots, of which I enjoyed three. That stuff's good. Then we went back to the hostel, but not without a problem: it was now raining horribly. No one anticipated it and brought an umbrella and the girl's shoes were not for the rain. It made for an interesting trip back. The best part of that was when we were waiting for one crosswalk, I looked up and just caught the rain and let it rain on me. It made me feel so alive.
It was Sunday, which meant that our escapade was over, so we went home. It was decided that I would have to take a taxi back to Hartwick, and pay only in Euros. Which they do not use in Canadur. So it was part of the challenge to get the Euros. They were just joking...I think. Once we got to the border, we went to the duty free store, and I got some little things. And guess what? We got held up at border control. I don't know why, but I do know that I freaked the phoque (guys, it's just the French word for a seal [the animal] . Relax.) out. But it was all okay. We got back to campus around 6 and on y go was now on y went.
On the way there, we stopped at a rest area and ran into the parents of one of my best friends from home...small world! They were going to visit their daughter at McGill.
The first night, we went to a restaurant called Zero-8. If French, this is pronounced Zéro-Huit. Like zero-wheat. Which is amusing because it is a restaurant that is allergen free, and people can be allergic to wheat. So, like, no wheat....I thought it was funny. It really is that there are eight allergens that they avoid, so yeah. I had brusccetta and steak-frites. Also, because the drinking age in Canadur is 18, I enjoyed a mojito with the bruscceta and a cabernet sauvingon with the steak-frites. Now don't go thinking that I partake in under-age drinking, because I don't. But in Canada, it was perfectly legal. So I win.
The next day, we walked around Vieux Montréal. I got this really cool ring and I like it! I also got this thing that you like paint on with water and then it evaporates and can be used like a bunch. It's called a Buddha Board and it's kind of epic. We stopped in a Starbucks, where I ordered in near perfect French a chocolatirie and a green tea frap. The only thing was when I was asked which size I wanted, I responded with a "what?" The person taking my order was all like....you speak English?! It was great. I checked my email to find that my English teacher from last year who has cancer that is almost definitely terminal got his book published! (It is called Counterfeit Kids and it is by Rod Baird. Read it. No, seriously, go and read it and come back to this post later.)I was happy that he got published and also sad because he is dying. It is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and that's not just because I know the writer. We went to lunch after that at Papillion and I had a lasagna. It was only ok, but I really liked the pink zinfandel I had with it. After that, we saw Theâtre de Neveau Mondé's production of "Les Femmes Savantes" by Molière. I only understood the body language and like seven of the words. We went back to the youth hostel we were staying at and I read the first 75% of the book while some of the others went out to dinner. Once they came back, those of us who hadn't eaten yet went out. We were just looking for a place with drinks and food, and were very surprised by the lack of open places on one of the more major streets- Rue Ste. Catherine. Finally, we thought we had found one place, and when they asked for ID, I and the other girl showed ours and were okay'd, but the boy with us is Muslim and does not drink because of it, and did not have an ID because he didn't think he would get carded because he wasn't drinking. So we had to leave that place. We found this great little retro restaurant and it was fabulous. I got a bacon cheeseburger and a beer that I had never heard of, which was awesome. The girl ordered kamikaze shots, of which I enjoyed three. That stuff's good. Then we went back to the hostel, but not without a problem: it was now raining horribly. No one anticipated it and brought an umbrella and the girl's shoes were not for the rain. It made for an interesting trip back. The best part of that was when we were waiting for one crosswalk, I looked up and just caught the rain and let it rain on me. It made me feel so alive.
It was Sunday, which meant that our escapade was over, so we went home. It was decided that I would have to take a taxi back to Hartwick, and pay only in Euros. Which they do not use in Canadur. So it was part of the challenge to get the Euros. They were just joking...I think. Once we got to the border, we went to the duty free store, and I got some little things. And guess what? We got held up at border control. I don't know why, but I do know that I freaked the phoque (guys, it's just the French word for a seal [the animal] . Relax.) out. But it was all okay. We got back to campus around 6 and on y go was now on y went.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
They're Just Doing Their Job...
But sometimes, parents can really be agonizing. I mean really, now that I am for the most part living on my own, I wonder how I was able to deal with them for 18 years!
They come in to my room. What's the first thing they do? My mom immediately starts cleaning. Is it really that bad? I don't think so, but hey, whatever, I can't complain, really--she is cleaning my room for me. Then, however, my mom tells me to take out the trash. I say to her that I just want to sit and visit with them. In the midst of our quarrel, my dad chimes in with an idea. A (very rare) good idea: to take the trash out the next time we leave the building. Why didn't we think of that...
Then, we went out to dinner at The Farmhouse (for you Oneontans out there, its just past Brooks'), which was great. But what wasn't not great was my brother (see "Why Abraham was Willing to Sacrifice Isaac"). To him, everything--and I mean everything--is a toy. The ice cubes, of course, are perfect for melting on the table and putting in the candle holder. The salt makes the flame of the candle turn colours. He shoots straw wrappers at me. He refuses to cut his meat the right way. Oy vey!
After that, Isaac and I had a sleep-over in my dorm room. He kept asking to go outside to go longboarding. It is dark and hilly, ergo the answer is no. Then he decides to ask me if he can use my computer. A normal person would have asked to use my computer in English (providing this person is a native English speaker), but no, Isaac asks me in French. Well, only kind of. He says "Can I use your ordinater?" which technically means nothing because he said ordinater instead of ordinateur, or how ever its spelled. What I'm getting at is that he pronounced a relatively simple word wrong. Perhaps if he has pronounced it right I would have let him. I was proud of him, though, for (sort of) using his French!
A big perk of my roommate moving out is that I was able to turn her bed into a couch like thing--which is perfect for little brothers to sleep on! He slept for a while. But around 3am, I am awoken by a poke.
"Hail, I need to use the bathroom!"
"It's across the hall."
"No, that's the girls bathroom."
"Isaac, the boys one is two floors down." This is because my floor is not coed. After significant convincing, he finally did it. (It's no big deal, they're like public restrooms, with the stalls. [Personally, I don't see why those are split for men and women--they have the stall doors so its not like anyone is going to see anything!]) Upon his return, he informed me that some girl had come in and he was terrified. I laughed and went back to sleep.
In the morning, he still wanted to go outside and use my "ordinater." The answer? Still no. We went to breakfast around 10am and made our own (chocolate chip!) waffles. Complete with fruit topping and a scoop of ice cream (with the stairs around here, I can afford to splurge on the calories!)
Then the parents came back with my grandma, who, because we are Jewish, is my Bubbi. I love her to death, but the woman can not stop talking. If its not real estate, it's food. If it's not food, it's small town gossip. None of which I care to hear her yell (not in rage, she's just loud like that [and makes great meatballs, etc. so maybe she is secretly Italian]) about. This continues over our lunch, only now she can tell me what kind of food I am (not really) in danger of getting on my sleeves. Meh.
The rest of the day was good. I got some stuff for my room at Lowe's-a carpet and a mat and a floor lamp, and then some parts for my bike (its the coolest one on campus now!) Oh so sadly, it was time for them to go after this. As they drove away, I exhaled a sigh of relief. And got the urge to hug my mom. But she had left. And then remembered I'm coming home in two weeks.
They come in to my room. What's the first thing they do? My mom immediately starts cleaning. Is it really that bad? I don't think so, but hey, whatever, I can't complain, really--she is cleaning my room for me. Then, however, my mom tells me to take out the trash. I say to her that I just want to sit and visit with them. In the midst of our quarrel, my dad chimes in with an idea. A (very rare) good idea: to take the trash out the next time we leave the building. Why didn't we think of that...
Then, we went out to dinner at The Farmhouse (for you Oneontans out there, its just past Brooks'), which was great. But what wasn't not great was my brother (see "Why Abraham was Willing to Sacrifice Isaac"). To him, everything--and I mean everything--is a toy. The ice cubes, of course, are perfect for melting on the table and putting in the candle holder. The salt makes the flame of the candle turn colours. He shoots straw wrappers at me. He refuses to cut his meat the right way. Oy vey!
After that, Isaac and I had a sleep-over in my dorm room. He kept asking to go outside to go longboarding. It is dark and hilly, ergo the answer is no. Then he decides to ask me if he can use my computer. A normal person would have asked to use my computer in English (providing this person is a native English speaker), but no, Isaac asks me in French. Well, only kind of. He says "Can I use your ordinater?" which technically means nothing because he said ordinater instead of ordinateur, or how ever its spelled. What I'm getting at is that he pronounced a relatively simple word wrong. Perhaps if he has pronounced it right I would have let him. I was proud of him, though, for (sort of) using his French!
A big perk of my roommate moving out is that I was able to turn her bed into a couch like thing--which is perfect for little brothers to sleep on! He slept for a while. But around 3am, I am awoken by a poke.
"Hail, I need to use the bathroom!"
"It's across the hall."
"No, that's the girls bathroom."
"Isaac, the boys one is two floors down." This is because my floor is not coed. After significant convincing, he finally did it. (It's no big deal, they're like public restrooms, with the stalls. [Personally, I don't see why those are split for men and women--they have the stall doors so its not like anyone is going to see anything!]) Upon his return, he informed me that some girl had come in and he was terrified. I laughed and went back to sleep.
In the morning, he still wanted to go outside and use my "ordinater." The answer? Still no. We went to breakfast around 10am and made our own (chocolate chip!) waffles. Complete with fruit topping and a scoop of ice cream (with the stairs around here, I can afford to splurge on the calories!)
Then the parents came back with my grandma, who, because we are Jewish, is my Bubbi. I love her to death, but the woman can not stop talking. If its not real estate, it's food. If it's not food, it's small town gossip. None of which I care to hear her yell (not in rage, she's just loud like that [and makes great meatballs, etc. so maybe she is secretly Italian]) about. This continues over our lunch, only now she can tell me what kind of food I am (not really) in danger of getting on my sleeves. Meh.
The rest of the day was good. I got some stuff for my room at Lowe's-a carpet and a mat and a floor lamp, and then some parts for my bike (its the coolest one on campus now!) Oh so sadly, it was time for them to go after this. As they drove away, I exhaled a sigh of relief. And got the urge to hug my mom. But she had left. And then remembered I'm coming home in two weeks.
Why Abraham was Willing to Sacrifice Isaac
Not only have we been looking at this in Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling in my Existentialism class, but I have now realized the answer.
It is because Isaac was a pain in the butt.
How do I know this?, you may ask. It's simple, really. My brother is an Isaac. No, really. My brother's name is Isaac.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love him with every cell in my body, and I would not have written this post out of respect had he himself not asked me to write it. Yep, he's the youngest, so he loves to get attention.
Here are some examples of what he does that makes me want to strangle him:
To me, he'll always be Small Child. Even though he'd be taller than me if I didn't have a mohawk at the moment.
It is because Isaac was a pain in the butt.
How do I know this?, you may ask. It's simple, really. My brother is an Isaac. No, really. My brother's name is Isaac.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love him with every cell in my body, and I would not have written this post out of respect had he himself not asked me to write it. Yep, he's the youngest, so he loves to get attention.
Here are some examples of what he does that makes me want to strangle him:
- Every seven seconds, he's all like "S'how're you?"
- Every nine seconds, he's all like "What'cha doing?" Mind you, I am always right near him. He can very well see what I am doing.
- Every eleven seconds, he's all like "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII Hail." (as a point of clarification, my given name is Hailey, and my family tends to shorten it to Hail)
- All he can think about is racing: NASCAR, longboarding, snowboarding, you name it. If it goes fast, he likes it.
- He never shuts up. Our family has a running joke that if he isn't talking, he's sleeping. And usually, it's true.
- The child had boundless energy. This is not necessarily bad, but it means that he always needs to be entertained. Always.
- He takes things too far. Even when we explicitly ask him to not tell us that story form South Park, he does so anyway.
- He cuts you off when you're walking.
- He always shoots straw wrappers at me. Always.
- He gives the best hugs.
- He's adorable, which is a huge redeeming quality.
- His nose is awesome and like a ski jump.
- He went to Snowboarding Nationals last year and placed 35 in the nation in his event and division.
- He's taking French. He chose Pierre as his French name. He's all like "huwhuw I am Pierre" in that stereotypical nasal accent.
- He goes super fast on his longboard.
- He is seriously awesome at cuddling.
To me, he'll always be Small Child. Even though he'd be taller than me if I didn't have a mohawk at the moment.
Leon Etienne!
Dude, that sheet was cool.
If you don't know who Leon Etienne is, click here, and LEARN because not knowing is a sin.
First off, I would like to congratulate him one not picking me for a volunteer. Yep Leon, if you're reading this, this is the girl who actually stood up and jumped. Yeah, I'm irresistible like that. No but seriously, someone with that much enthusiasm might know the secrets. High five!
SO here's the fun part. That part where I talk about what happened. Try to follow along.
Dude the card stuck to the ceiling (so glad we didn't sign the wall because its us theatre work-study kids who would have had to paint over that!) And like she got cut in half and like I know the secret that she moves her legs up but like her feet were tied down and wow! And he got out of the straight jacket (thanks, I will try that next time I'm in one of those ;) ) The soda came back and I was like holy crap a way to end world...thirst (I bet Katniss wishes she knew how to do that) By the way, if you read this, Leon, I hope you liked the raised stage, I helped to paint the homosote! And then you dropped the bowling ball and I thought it was gonna break the stage...and it didn't, then you dropped it again and I was (in slow motion) noooooo! but it was all peachy ^.^
~end excited rant~
Short, somewhat unfollowable story explained, If you ever have the chance to see him, you best do it.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
J'ai Vomi
French Class. 10:29am
A strange feeling came over me. I identified it. The dreaded n-word. No, not that one! Nausea.I got up. I realized my shoes were off, but meh, I was about to puke. Forget the shoes. Just run!
And I did. Both. I ran. I puked.
It was buckets of fun, of course!
I returned to class, and reported to the professor "j'ai vomu." He said, "vomi." I said "Either way, I'm going back to my dorm." He gave me a thumbs up. I guess that's good, but even if he hadn't I wasn't going to stay in class!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
I Think I Almost Died of Fear...
H'okay, h'okay. Maybe not died, but it sure was scary!
My work-study is Technical Theatre and Stagecraft. From time to time, we have to go up on some pretty sizeable A-frame ladders. The one in Slade Theatre (the bigger proceneum space) is like 18', with the fixtures at 20'. In the Lab Theatre (blackbox/flexible space), the ladder is like 14' and on wheels with the fixtures at 16.5'. So you really have to get up there. I'm not afraid of heights. I love climbing trees, indoor rock climbing, rope adventure courses, all that stuff. But A-frame ladders, well those are different. I can totally do your normal built-into-the-wall ladder, but get one that is self suppourting, and thats a whole different matter. What if I tip it over? Yeah, I'd fall and die.
Today, I had to reterive a source 4 parkane from up in storage (on the electrics, but offstage). This involved going up very high on the one with wheels! I was literally dripping sweat. It turned out that I got the wrong light (hey, I havn't taken lighting design yet!) Then, I had to hang it at an angle, not just straigt down like it was stored. This required going up even higher on the ladder...I braved it. I was at the top-okay, well two steps away from the top. I was sure I was going to die. I needed to be at a different angle, so I thought of what I'd seen others do. I was going to straddle the ladder. Woah. Having one foot on it for a prolonged period of time. And with the deep desire to let my supervisor know that I'm not useless to have around, I did it.
And then, in the end, I had to take the light down. And it was hot. So I could only hold on to the C-clamp. But I did it.
Yay for conquering fears!
Monday, October 1, 2012
Catching Up
Hey there!
Its been a while, I know. Things have been happening--my apologies for not keeping y'all updated!
Here, chronological order for ya!Sept 13
Casting for the mainstage, "Enron" was announced that day. Unfortunately, due to the lack of female roles in the show, and the director's quite understandable decision to cast true to gender (it was not his goal to be addressing gender roles in big business in this production), I was not cast. But I was called back both times! So confidence is great.
September 14-15
24 Hour Play Festival!
I had the great privilege of directing, which is super awesome as a freshman-I think I was the only first-year director! :) We performed "The Murderous Rat" by Sarah Walsh. It's and interesting piece of work in which the protagonist, It was about a rat, Jewel Pepperjack (Megan Steely) whose uncle had been killed by a rat serial killer and to cope with it she makes herself an imaginary friend/hallucination named Muffin (Sam McCol Garfinkle). Then Muffin wanted to avenge the uncle by killing the killer and Jewel is all like "you can't solve murder with murder" And eventually Jewel kills Muffin but because Muffin is a projection of her id she kills herself in the process... Its one of those things that you just really don't know how to feel about it because its sad because the Megan rat is like all crazy, but then there are a bunch of cheese puns...because they're rats... (ie oh my gouda). Additional cast members: Honour Harlow (Linda Sargento) and Jeromy Slaby (Rex Swiss). Make up by Brittany Lester.
Sept 19
After much tension, my roommate (name ommitted to protect my butt) decided to move two doors down. She wasn't too keen of being great friends (or even friends with me) because if we were to get into a fight as roommates, it would effect our friendship and if were were to get into a fight as friends, it would effect our roommateship. But I'm sorry-I you're going to live with someone and leave your worn underwear on the floor, you at least have to be friends with them. Now I have a "super single." Her bed has become my couch! I lovee it. Someone might move in eventually, but that's a "might" and an "if." And I want to keep it that way!
Sept 21-23
I was home! I saw my kids (I do not have kids, I am speaking of my BFFLs from BTC), and got to go out to their post-casting dinner. Yay! I also saw Jason and Fiona. Just talking to them was worth the 7h10min trip to get there (note that Oneonta is only three hours away from Hastings. Oh how I love public transportation.)
Allyson, my brother's fiancee (OK not really; they're 13, but its gonna be true some day) had her bat mitzvah...I was so proud of her! And at the end, when they named the persons whose yardseight was being observed, I said my great grandmother's name...I was two days off, but close enough.
Then there was a fantabulous party. Yes, there was the Cupid Shuffle!
Later that day, I went to Westchester Sandbox Theatre's production of "Avenue Q". I was less than pleased by their performance, especially the lack of quality in their set. I'm pretty sure it was made of unpainted form board. And it wasn't the real puppets! Sigh. I really wanted it to be good. I really did.
Sunday was Peter and the Starcatcher with my Fundamentals of Acting class. It was absolutely AMAZING! Great performances by all.
Sept 29
Alumni and Homecoming Weekend
That was the Monologue Festival! I directed Kara Kavanagh in "Literally, a Monologue". Although our dress rehearsal was akin to the Titanic, she made me proud to have my name attached to her performance in the end. Kudos!
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