webcowgirl: (Default)
I was feeling fussy because I hadn't seen enough shows lately to have anything much to write about for my blog - only one entry last week though I saw a second show (it was bad). And my stats are suffering: they've been averaging around 200 a day lately, really poor. But I'm catching up a bit this week, with Peter Brook's Magic Flute last night and a triple bill at the Royal Ballet tonight (which I may or may not write up), plus Eight Women at Southwark Playhouse on Friday. And as a reward for my one post, my stats went up to over three hundred today. Really, the writing is a cruel taskmaster; if only I were making money off of it or creating something I considered to be of lasting value the time I spend on it might make some sense rather than seeming like a strange obsession.

Work is going well. I had an all-day training session with my staff today, and when it wrapped I had a meeting with my boss to go over the week. He told me his boss had expressed her take that my team was incredibly effective and the "unsung heroes" of our group; he said he told her it was really all due to me and not him. I have to admit, that unexpected praise made my head swell up. In fact, when I got back to my desk I sat and looked at suits on Ebay for a while, thinking maybe this manager lark thing is going to stick. After all of the struggle and strife I've had with my various jobs over the years, to be somewhere where I'm praised more than once in a blue moon is actually a bit hard for me to process.

The rest of my life continues to be rather a minefield. I'm faced with a bunch of cold hard facts making it kind of clear what I ought to be doing with myself but I'm not being disciplined enough to take the hand I've been dealt and (if I'm getting the metaphor right) fold. I'm sure it's just weakness on my part, and that I'll be kicking myself later for not taking strong action earlier rather than later; I frankly have little idea which monkey is driving the tiger right now. And I don't know where the tiger is going.

Is there a final thing to say on this post? Oh yes, my weekend in Inverness with [livejournal.com profile] noirem and her fella has resulted in some of the most porcelain like complexion I've experienced in ages. Something about the whole thing, whether it was the weather or the food or the incredible spoiling (so much wine!) or hanging around people for four straight days (I was never alone and let's just be clear, that's how I like it) really worked for me. She's coming down tomorrow and I'm really regretting I won't be able to spoil her as much, but still; Scotland appears to be good for my skin.
webcowgirl: (Twit/ter)
The long and the short of it - my life summarized in one sentence - is that if I don't get a hairband together SOON I am going to go mad. My hair has looked like crap for the last two days and I don't know where in the house the damn thing has run off to. I look like I slept on a couch at work overnight. It's awful.

Anyway, I'm busy (as ever). Last night I went to this brilliant meet up for people who Twitter about theater. It was an event skewed much younger than my normal theater gig, and was full of actors, directors, theater fans, publicists, a puppet maker, lots of bloggers, the works! I had to listen to college near-graduates asking me what I was going to do now that "I've made a name for myself" with a straight face.

That said, gotta earn my, er, "name," so I got my review of Rake's Progress (which we saw Saturday) written up. I didn't really enjoy it that much. I'd much rather have spent the time writing up last night. I'll add that I went to an Ozu movie earlier tonight (There Was a Father), which was odd and a damaged print to boot but still an insightful view into Japan circa 1943. I do really want the book about Ozu that I read about this morning - Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema - but at $65 a copy I'm in no rush. We had dosas after the movie let out; it was a good evening. And now, dammit, a bit too late to bed. Grr. Stupid writing!
webcowgirl: (Theater)
I've finished my review of Dido and Aeneas at the Royal Opera House. I'm kicking myself for not taking better notes during the performance, especially since I'm not used to writing about music and can't pull from my memory to flesh this one out very well. Just four days later and WHOOSH! It's nearly all gone.

Now that I've fed the monkey I can get on to housework. Ooh baby. I lead such an exciting life.
webcowgirl: (Ballet)
For those of you who read my reviews, I've written up Birmingham Royal Ballet's Mixed Bill that I saw last night with [livejournal.com profile] wechsler, includnig the extraordinarily cute and fun "Still Life at the Penguin Cafe." I'm sure they didn't create that ballet especially for Furries but one wonders to what extent they are aware of the interest it might have raised in certain communities. I, for one, found it hard to ignore!

It's been a very quiet day at work, but in keeping with how QA goes I'm going to be slammed the next two days and most of next week.

Tonight J and I are off to the ballet (ROH this time), or perhaps I should say the opera, as we're going to see Wayne Macgregor's Dido and Aeneas. It's actually two operas, with Acis and Galatea (which I haven't seen before) and dance choreographed for the opera. We'll see how I hold up at intermission - I'm just really tired tonight and kind of unmotivated, though I don't want to miss this show. I wonder how much tea I'd need to have to really make a difference ...

Hmm, my throat appears to be swelling, which is not a bad sign. Hopefully I can fight this off like I have the others but my luck has really be running rather too well for me to feel confident about it. Still, my fingers are crossed!
webcowgirl: (Default)
This one is for [livejournal.com profile] poh.



But there I was ... 16 years old and watching MTV ... some program about New Wave or New Romantics in England, with stories about Kings Road and "Jordan" and Malcolm McClaren, the master behind it all ...

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