Will You Stop Patronizing Me?

I'm an easy going kind of girl. Really, I am. I can pretty much get along with anybody. You can be stupid, and I'll help you get a clue. You're going to be imperfect (everybody is, you know, even you), yet I'll look over the imperfections easily. I have many of them myself.

But just patronize me, and you make an enemy for life.

So many have tried it. One guy in graduate school--a creative writing major--made it clear what he thought of literature majors. We had to work in a group together, three creative writing majors and me (a lit. major), and when the other three were going off on a tangent with planning, I said, "I don't quite understand."

Without blinking, this person leaned over, patted my arm, motioned to himself and the others, and said, "Don't worry. We're very creative people. We'll make sure you're okay."

I wanted to slug him. But since I am a pacifist, I didn't.

There was no shortage of such people in graduate school and academia. Usually it was a teacher of questionable worth who made it a point to patronize and insult the worth of the other teachers or graduate students around him/her in order to feel superior. But I always hated it.

Theatre has traditionally been a place for this as well, but until this last week, I hadn't really encountered it here in the community production of The Sound of Music. Sure, we have a couple divas, and they share their own little dressing room, keeping themselves aloof from the rest of us... but they haven't been too annoying.

Until yesterday.

We were just about to begin our second week of shows last night, and the girl who plays Maria came up to me with a few "suggestions." First, she wanted a bit more stage business for something, since she didn't feel like she could move the way she wanted to without it.

Okay. No big deal. I'd made adjustments for her before. Easy stuff.

But then she pulled out the patronizing card. She put her hand on my arm (always a bad sign), and said, "And be loud. When we sing together, especially. First the audience hears me sing," she says, "and then when you get up there, well, you know." And she makes a face.

Really? Did we have to go there? Three more productions, and we might never have to work together again. But she can't wait. She has to pull out the patronizing card and slap me across the face with it. I could spend the rest of the blog ranting about her acting skills, but I won't. She's not bad. And she can sing. And how well she does it is none of my damn business, since I'm not the director.

But neither is she.

I am grateful to be in the ordinary dressing room, and I'll take this as another reminder of how not to behave towards other people. We all have different talents, different strengths, and different weaknesses, and it's not my job to step on others while on my own personal journey.

It's also my job to do my best, despite the comments, and to do so with a positive attitude. Perhaps what upsets me most is that, even after all of these years, comments like this still bother me.

In the Wings

Waiting for the cue

For the first step in the light

Brighter than day

Breathing deep

Mind at rest

And buzzing

All at once

The crowd is there

But it's the story that moves me

(Not the applause)

The lines

The songs

The beatific face

I show them

Time to play pretend

To step out of my life

For a short while

To forget everything

To forget myself

To be another life

To live another dream

To see the world another way

If only for a moment

Time Off

I'll miss all of you over the next few weeks, but I'm off tomorrow on a cruise with the hubby, and we will likely be out of touch with everything while we're gone. I'll check in when I get back, just in time for final run-throughs of the musical to go on, and then performance. (Whew, I am busy!)

I'm still taking my laptop with me, though. Got to keep writing! I'm in the midst of a play, and I hope to finish the rough while I'm gone, since a few other ideas are niggling at me, as well.

Hope the next two weeks are productive for you all (or restful!), and I'll see you when I get back.

You Never Know

Funny, but I've gone weeks without writing (except in the blog).

At one point, I swore I wouldn't write in the blog until I wrote on my novel.

Didn't work.

Then I rushed to get all the house stuff done so that I'd have no more excuses. But houses, well, they tend to keep coming up with maintenance issues, and this house is no exception. I still don't have new countertops, and the dining room, writing room, and breakfast nook lights still need replacing...

Didn't work.

And then, like a miracle, I woke this morning at 4:45 a.m. I could feel sleep had left me, but an idea had not. I came down the stairs to my computer, opened it, started writing...

A few hours and 19 pages later, I had half a play. Script Frenzy is this month, with the goal, I think, being to write a play of 90-100 pages. At this pace I'll be done in five days.

Something must have worked. I only wonder what it was.

Makes me also wonder what tomorrow morning will bring. I just hope I'm ready for it.

Truths

Nothing is more perfect

Than a child's laugh

Blankets are made for snuggling

And should thus be at least big enough

For two

Healthy or not,

Food should taste delicious

Or it's a waste of time

A child's mind should

Always be engaged in something wonderful

And usually is

(If you just bother to ask)

And "Popeye" cartoons are really fun

When one is drinking...

Calling

I sit down to type

But the voices are calling

Not in my head,

Not to push me to write

But to pull me away

I take out my sewing

But squealing and laughter

Are calling me

Not to mend seams

But to swim in the dappled sun

I try hard to work

But the little ones, calling

For help with a craft

Or to snuggle or hug

Or share in a laugh,

Make it hard to sit still

And attend

So I put down the chore

And answer the calling.

Developing Writers

I'm busy writing (hurray!), but I found this intriguing article today on Slate, which you can read here.

It compares Renaissance London to today's Topeka, Kansas, and thus shows us through the comparison how little we as a society tend to value writers. The article, written by Bill James, outlines four things we do for athletes that we do not do for writers:

First, we give them the opportunity to compete at a young age.

Second, we recognize and identify ability at a young age.

Third, we celebrate athletes' success constantly. We show up at their games and cheer. We give them trophies. When they get to be teenagers, if they're still good, we put their names in the newspaper once in a while.

Fourth, we pay them for potential, rather than simply paying them once they get to be among the best in the world.

While I can't agree with everything in the article, I do agree with his main point: instead of criticizing what we do to push athletics, let's just do the same thing for the artists and writers of our society, so that their skills are honed and encouraged as well.

I've been toying with getting my daughter art classes for a while now. I'm not toying with it any more. I think there's an art camp--and a theatre camp--she can join this summer, too. She's an artist with more talent at ten than I have at 41, and she can go a long way with the right encouragement and training.

And it's time to start a writer's group. Here. Now.

Wish me luck!