Technicolor Psyche

My Dream--that if it came to fruition, would blow my mind!

2011-10-29T10:01:00.000-07:00

“If you can imagine it, you can achieve it; if you can dream it, you can become it.”
William Arthur Ward

I need to remember to focus...I have a passion but sometimes I put it on the back burner because I hear my Mother's voice say, "...that just won't pay the bills...you're being impractical...".

I love movies...I mean LOVE them. The idea of sitting in a dark theater and escaping for 90 minutes is the most enticing thing I know. Movies are beautiful and can so wholly change the way others view their world. I remember my first memory. It was like a clip from a movie. Some people remember things by what was said or what they felt. I tend to remember things in terms of how 'the scene' was set. I always have. When I design costumes for a theatrical production, I see the characters in context. Where are they, who are they where do they live....okay now what are they wearing?

Many years ago, when I started college, I was in the cinematography program at UNLV when my family lived in Vegas but a near tragedy made my father take stock of his life and that of his children. They chose to leave Vegas and I was left without a place to live while attending school and so I returned to Wyoming with them. While there, I became involved in theatre and seemingly have been stuck there ever since. However, every time I see a movie that moves me or a bit of film that is inexplicably beautiful, I would pine away for what I could have done if I had just stayed at UNLV. Until very recently (last 4 years) I let that be my lot in life. Stupid, I know.

Then my brother, Terry, was diagnosed with bladder cancer. I quit chastising myself for what could have been because I wouldn't have so much to say without the life experience that I had been given. Here was my brother dealing with a much larger problem than my pitiful self sabbotage. Terry fought cancer for three years and during his last two months of life I was having a particularly bad year in my job as a professor at a university. When we were told that his cancer had spread to his brain, I dug out 3 composition notebooks that I had hand written a screenplay into on my lunch breaks when I was working as a freelance artist and part-time baker. I began typing the words and then remembered that a screenwriting text had 'mysteriously' found me at a thrift store some months earlier. I didn't have anymore excuses. My story was written in these notebooks and I had a map so there was nothing left to do but type. On the day my niece called my Mom to tell her that my brother died, I finished plotting out the ending of that screenplay. Terry had suffered a heart attack during a procedure to deliver chemo directly to the affected spot of his brain. My rough script was done but he would never get to read it.

Leaving St. George Utah, I drove with my niece, Hartsy, (who was staying with me for the summer) to where my other sister Becky was living. I picked up Becky (Bex, as I am want to call her) and her two children. Together the five of us drove seventeen plus hours to Auburn, WA in order to attend the funeral. The whole journey with my little sister and those beautiful kiddos made me realize that my brother was a relatively happy and young man to have died. I'll never get to see him read the words I spent so long formulating but I can see my work through--if I can keep focused.

Yeah, I write but I feel a little cliche` and pretentious when I tell people so I don't go around blurting it out. I'm not ashamed but it's personal and I have seen the looks and eye rolls enough times to keep me from shouting that I have a passion for writing. Wrong?-yes probably but I'm learning.

I'm at a place in my life when the universe should know and I'll proclaim it now, I'm ready for my writing to succeed. I want a second career in writing. I love it and I think that many others will too.

MLH

Where we were when...

2011-09-11T06:37:00.000-07:00

On September 11, 2001 where were you? You remember it vividly, right? It is a day that no one who witnessed the unbelievable horror will ever forget. The horror of the attacks on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and the heroic men and women of Flight 93 who fought their hijackers and subsequently crashed in the field of Shanksville, Pennsylvania became our JFK--our December 7, 1941.

I was a graduate student at Wayne State. That Tuesday in September I was sitting in my lighting design class with my fellow students speculating the lateness of our professor, Tom Schraeder. He soon came into class, visibly shaken, telling us that there had been a possible bombing at the World Trade Center in New York. I remember him saying that his daughter was in that area and that he couldn't get a hold of her by phone. Then he became very solemn, looking around the room, he told us that we had more important places to be then school and that there were several televisions set up around the department if we wanted to see the news. I headed back to the costume shop where one of the TVs was set up to see the news. The footage of the towers was playing and a second plane crashed into the south tower. I didn't know it in that instant that it was a replay of what had happen minutes earlier but I could tell what the news commentator couldn't seconds before the plane hit--that it was purposeful. The commentator kept repeating,"is that plane to assess the damage?" We all knew that it wasn't there to observe.

Our classmate, Mindy, was in shock. Her parents were on a fight in Boston, the departure city of those doomed flights. We did our best to comfort her as we tried to take our own minds off what we had just witnessed. We busied ourselves with production work and watch the news simultaneously. It was a futile attempt. Not much work on the productions was completed that morning. My friend, Ricky, was very level headed, calm and able to think clearly in high pressure situations. He suggested that we go next door to a small shop, owned by a couple from Pakistan, to get some snacks and a soda since we didn't know how long we would be on campus. There were some hesitations from the group because we used to call it the "Pakistani store" and the word and country Pakistan had already been mentioned in the news as aiding the terrorists in the attacks. Ricky, never one for prejudice, fervently said that it was not helping the mood of the day to immediately suspect everyone who didn't look like us and that he was going if anyone wanted to join him. I went because he spoke the truth. We couldn't suspect everyone. It is no way to live. The owner and his family we gathered around their television. As we paid for our snacks, the owner said, "This is a very sad day. So much sadness." I was moved to see this man so upset. It was a confirmation of what Ricky had stated moments earlier.

I don't remember the specific order of the events that came next but two hours later when the towers collapsed I was in tears. I knew there was no way that the thousands of people trapped in the towers would have survived. There was a bomb threat called into the campus. Detroit has the largest Arab-American population in the United States combine that with the events of the day and no one was willing to risk more tragedy so the campus was closed. There was also a Mosque nearby to the campus that was vandalized. A tribute to the blind hate that marred the day.

I lived very near to campus--actually I was surrounded by it. I walked home and watched more coverage of the events unfolding. I was so overloaded by the emotions I was feeling that I quite literally became numb. I couldn't move from my couch for what seemed like hours. Finally, and somehow, I became aware of where I was. I got up. I decided that I should go to a grocery store but the local store close to campus had been shut down when the bomb threat was called in to campus and so I went out to Madison Heights. The Kroger was open but looked eerily like a ghost town as I walked down the aisles that were bare of many canned goods, batteries, and dairy products. I was able to pick up some bread, a little soy milk, granola bars, water and some chocolate. As I drove back towards Detroit, the freeway had been barricaded down to one lane. Traffic, although not heavy, was stop and go. I sat stopped on the freeway I noticed a small plastic flag on the pavement. As a police vehicle passed me the flag became caught in the wind. It was like the video of the plastic bag in the movie of American Beauty and I was caught up in the relativity of the movie title to the flag twirling in the breeze...and then John Lennon's Imagine played on the radio. The impact of the events of the day, the emotions I was feeling, and the fact that I was so far away from family overcame me and I couldn't stop weeping.

That's how I remember September 11, 2001.

_MH

A Struggle for Words...

2011-09-07T23:26:00.001-07:00

Nate and Kami Jordan

There are days when you think, "Today my life is great. Things are going well and I couldn't ask for anything more". It's a good feeling. It surpasses any past tragedy, any past hurt, any past loss....but so many times it can not overcome the current pain of a loved one or the sudden loss of a friend.

I feel like that today. My day was pretty great as days go. I was busy and looking towards my coming month with positivity. I came home and turned on the computer-checked my facebook as so many of us do...and there I was met with a status from my cousin, Dee, saying how angry she was and that cancer sucks. I knew immediately what this meant. My cousin, Nathan, was diagnosed with AML--a type of lukemia that replaces normal bone marrow with lukemia cells. It's very painful. He has been a trooper and has fought hard but his wife, Kami, revealed this heartbreaking statement on facebook today,

"We are in need of information. We have been given the options of how best to temporarily control pain and quality of life till Nathan dies, but I don't intend to let Nathan suffer or to be a fucking widow at 32 trying to raise our girls without him!
And I am all out of tact, patience and pride so if anyone wants to donate I will take your money. We haven't seen the bill but my guess is half a million thus far and as you can see the shit storm continues. There is a 'donate to Nathan' account at Wells Fargo I am told."

In short, I hate cancer! Who doesn't? Last year, my family lost my brother to cancer...I'm tired of losing my family to an enemy that is so cunning, sneaky and evil.

This year if you know someone with cancer, lost someone to cancer, or have been diagnosed yourself--share your story and show your colors!-with enough awareness maybe we can have more birthdays!

http://morebirthdays.com/

-mlh

Nostalgia...summer of 1993...

2011-07-13T14:57:00.000-07:00

It's funny how a song can take you back to a point in time where your life was much different than it is now. Today, Scott and I ran some errands then had some lunch and on our way back there was this familiar song on the radio. Although the radio was low and Scott was talking, I heard the strum of a guitar. It was an old song that I loved. You know the kind, anthemic. The kind of song that builds until the lead singer belts out the chorus. The type of song that doesn't easily leave your head. It is usually a one hit wonder--a mere flash in the pan but it sticks with you and every time you hear it the years melt away...You're twenty-one in a 1979 Saffron Gold Subaru DL 4 Door with the radio blasting on a road trip to Idaho for my first theatre job.

For me-this afternoon--that song was 'What's Up!' by 4 Non Blondes. I remember that summer, staying in the University of Idaho dorms, working for the Idaho Rep, waking up in the middle of the afternoon, running the wardrobe for a show, then staying up all night watching movies with the rest of the company and going to bed at dawn to wake up and do it all over again. Then there was the time that Brian and Bobby decided to repel out of the dormitory windows ending with Brian's eye being blacked by a flashlight. Or my famous, alright infamous, catch of a baseball and my hospital visit...all in all, it was a great summer.

What's Up!

Twenty-five years and my life is still
Trying to get up that great big hill of hope for a destination
And I realized quickly when I knew I should
That the world was made up of this brotherhood of man
For whatever that means
And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed
Just to get it all out what's in my head
And I am feeling a little peculiar
And so I wake in the morning and I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream at the top of my lungs, what's going on?

--4 Non Blondes

It's what I do...

2011-07-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

I'm one of those people that, if she sees a homeless person, has to help. It might be with spare change, an old pair of boots or my doggie bag--I just need to help. Now some of you have witnessed these acts of random giving and have questioned why I would do this when the homeless person in question will probably use the money for drugs or alcohol, trade the boots for other things, or just throw the food away. I have no real explanation. I just feel compelled to help. It is as if my spirit won't let me rest until I help in someway.

I would call myself a God-fearing woman and I was raised a Christian. Am I perfect? No. I have made mistakes and I have paid for them and may yet pay for other mistakes that I have or will make. Not everything that all religions profess is something that I want to follow but I believe that truth can be found in all things. There is a common thread that runs through nearly all religions--serve others and give to those who are less fortunate. The Bible states, "...if you have done this unto the least these you have done it unto me...". You might say that in our society "the least of these" might be the homeless. They are definitely less fortunate--no matter what choices lead them to where they are now, they are currently less fortunate and so I give.

Call it paying it forward, karma, browning points or whatever. For me, it is the right thing to do. I do not care what they do with my spare change, old boots or doggie bag. I gave those things in love. I care about them and I want to do what I can with the little I have and so what they do with my gifts is of no concern to me. What matters is the choice that I made to help. It's what I do.

-mlh

My "God Ray" Morning

2010-12-06T09:28:00.000-08:00

Many of you know that over the past nine months I have been struggling through some....well, let's just call them "issues" shall we? Anyway, these "issues" have chewed me up, spit me out, stomped on me, kicked me, and buried me. They have worn me down. I have allowed them to worry me, making me sick and questioning who I am and what I do until my passion is cold and useless.

Just like it always happens with stress, you become more susceptible to illness and so this weekend I have been fighting a terrible cold and the flu. My emotional defenses were down and so needless to say, I was a bawling mess. My poor husband! Not that he saw because I try to hide it. I do not like to burden him with these things--I think it's a little selfish to dump on him and so I do not. I sat silently weeping, wheezing and coughing my weekend away. I was trying to rest because I need to be at work so that the students can come in and work on their final projects. My sleep last night was that of the dead. I don't remember anything but getting up with the alarm. You think I sound like a martyr? My apologies but what I say about the students is true and I should be there for them.

I looked outside and saw that it was raining. "Perfect!", I said, "The rain will be reflecting my mood today." I bumbled along through the morning rituals: feeding the cats, brushing my teeth, and showering. My mood was so thick that I seemed set on automatic pilot and I didn't remember any of those rituals until the song Good Riddance came on the radio. Rain pounded the car and I turned up the volume.

"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don't ask why. It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time".

I started to sob. You know that sob where you can't catch your breath because you're so wracked with emotions your body allows them to take over. I pulled over into the McDonald's parking lot aware enough to know that I shouldn't drive like this. It's funny, I always think that I'm a strong person until one of these moments happens and then I feel weak, helpless, and afraid. All of these issues running through my mind, all of the questions unresolved, all as my stalwart resolve melts with the rain.

The radio seemed to grow a louder, "It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life." I could hear my inner voice saying, "You've learned your lesson just make the best of your test. It will be over soon."

And then the rain subsided. I wiped my face with my shirt, took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The sun was shining on my car--shining those beautiful "God rays" of light that every lighting designer in the world wishes they could capture for the stage. I no longer saw the rain as a reflection of my mood but rather a washing away of the bad. This was my answer, now I just needed to remember it. To remember it and move forward! LIVE! I can be the person with the passion because it's my passion not theirs. I can't allow them to take it because it is what makes me ME!

"Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)"

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go So make the best of this test, and don't ask why It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial For what it's worth it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

--MH

Misanthropic in Utah

2010-07-24T07:31:00.000-07:00

This will come as no surprise to many of you, I'm sure. What? Monica misanthropic? Never! It's a lie, I say! A damned lie!

Yeah, right.

I don't know why, I just am. Maybe it's the 'too happy people' or the overly friendly way they just "pop over" for a visit when you've decided that today is not worth getting out of your PJ's. Who knows? Maybe I'm too cynical. I was born in New York--Long Island for those of you who care--and maybe the cynicism is in my blood. Perhaps being raised by a New Yorker is what made me cynical and misanthropic. I know! It was living in the Detroit and Flint areas of Michigan. Maybe. Although having a few stalkers whilst living in Flint did not help my misanthropy it only added to it. At any rate this is who I am.

I don't like being on the receiving end of these "happy Utahns" (yeah, look at that word, it just screams WTF). I've gotten more baked goods, preserves and notes from neighbors wishing me well than I have digits to count. For crap's sake leave me alone please. I can't possible eat all this before it goes bad! P.S. When I need help, I will ask for it. For example, just the other day, my neighbor two doors down stopped by as I was opening my garage door. It scared the sense right out of me! I nearly took her out because I was so scared. Who just stands there waiting for you when you open your freaking garage door and gives you no warning? My first reaction (after wanting to punch her in the throat) was to call the police.

"Hi neighbor! Just thought I'd pop on over and ask you to join our little scrap booking circle", she said with her Mrs. Brady charm and her Barbie Doll complexion.

Seriously? It's a whopping 112 degrees outside and she's not even breaking a sweat!

"Um, that's okay. I don't scrap book or craft (because it's a cult). Thank you anyway. I'm sorry but I have an appointment that I need to get to so if you wouldn't mind moving so I can shut my garage door", I reply trying to be as polite as possible.

"Oh, sure! Here's an invitation anyway and some cookies for the kids." She was looking very Stepford by this time and my fight or flight urge was boiling to the top.

"We don't have any children. Thanks." Really? Come on lady, I'm backing out of the driveway and you're still talking? Take a hint!

"But the little girl I saw you with at church looked just like you?" She seemed genuinely confused and so I pushed on the brake.

"She is my niece. She has gone home to her Mom. Please, I'm sorry, I really have to go." I drive away and she is still chatting at me.

But my story does not end there....oh, no....

I'm at church a few weeks later and another Barbie-faced Missus decides that it's her turn to "invite me to a ladies circle".

"Hi. Monica, right?" She's way too cheerful. I really need to learn a foreign language so I can play the language barrier card.

"Yes", I say cautiously.

"We heard that you can sew and we thought that you'd like to join our sewing group on Saturdays", she asked rather hopefully. I wondered if she had drawn the short straw as I imagined these Barbie-like women sitting around wanting another woman to join their group--to make her over into another Barbie. Their newest member, Skipper, had drawn the short stick and so it was up to her to reel me in. Yeah, not so much.

"No thank you", I say smugly knowing what her next line will be.

"But you sew", she questions.

"Yes, I do", I answer flatly waiting for the next obvious question to escape her lips.

"We thought since you sew that you could show us what you do?" Zero points for originality! She was new at this. I kind of felt sorry for her but not sorry enough to go join the sewing circle.

"Thanks so much for thinking of me. I do sew. I mainly do it for a living. In my down time I prefer to do things non-sewing related. Thanks again." I smile and leave her standing there perplexed as to why and how she just lost her target. Well, I'll tell you why. No one really wants to work when they're not working. So why do so many of these women want me to do just that? I sew for work and I sew for my nieces and nephew. My idea of fun is to not sew on my days off. Isn't that obvious? Logical? Now, book club is something I might join if you'll read something beyond just church literature. That'll never happen and so I'm safe to return to my reclusive nature and enjoy things like pajamas, books, alternative radio and quiet alone time...that is until they knock on my door again.

--MLH

Shake Hands With The Devil

2009-11-30T14:03:00.000-08:00

My Black Friday Rant 2009 in honor of the motion picture "Shake Hands with the Devil" based upon the book, life experience, and documentary of Canadian Lt.-General (ret.) Romeo Dallaire. See this link for the 2010 upcoming movie:

http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810070790/trailer

"I've seen the horrible events of this and many past Black Fridays and was again sickened at the degradation of our society. Masses at a New York WalMart trample a man to death and seriously injure a pregnant woman so I repeat my message from a couple of years ago...

Then I saw something too horrible. The day after Thanksgiving is commonly known as "Black Friday" the biggest shopping day of the year. I avoid all stores on this day. Words cannot convey to you how I feel about this particular day of hyper sales and secularism for a season meant for "Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men".

Returning to my story...I awoke with all convictions in tact and ready to avoid all stores. As I was getting ready for the day and going through my morning routine (which includes watching CNN,BBC World News and a little CSPAN) when the first camera images of Black Friday unfolded. Scenes of men, women and children being beaten, trampled and mauled! All in the name of the latest toy orXBOX! I literally had to rewind the TV to make sure that I wasn't watching some third world country fighting for freedom from oppression. Unfortunately, I was not.

When did "stuff" or mere possessions become more important to us than humanity? The images of Black Friday's pushing and trampling reminded me of images from a documentary I saw on Rwanda called, Shake Hands With The Devil: The Journey of Romeo Dallaire. 'This documentary follows Canadian Lt.-General (ret.) Romeo Dallaire as he relives the horrific events that unfolded while he commanded the United Nations peacekeeping mission (1994) in Rwanda where more than 800,000 men, women and children were brutally murdered'. Do any of you remember 1994? Maybe you remember the "OJ Trial"; it aired simultaneously while genocide raged in Rwanda. Horrible isn't it? (And lest you think I live in a glass house...) I am ashamed to say that I vaguely remember something about Rwanda but could never imagine the horror I saw in this film. Yes, like many of you, I remember more of OJ's court proceedings than of any world events in 1994. The tragic rub is that this kind of genocide is happening again..In Darfur, Sri Lanka, and Somalia.

Here in America, many of us believe that if this kind of a tragedy would never happen here. But, you know what? It is. When we put the love of things before the love of our fellow men we are killing our souls. The genocide of our souls! It makes us numb to those things that are truly important. We don't need things to make us happy. Please try something new for yourselves this year. Don't buy gifts for your friends and family at Christmas, Channukah, Kwanza, or whatever holiday you are planning to celebrate. Instead make a charitable contribution to www.savedarfur.org in the name of the person you wish to gift; or if you feel you must buy a gift for someone then buy RED this year and find out how at www.joinred.com/red.asp ; volunteer at a soup kitchen, a women's shelter, or a veteran's hospital. Just do something!Do it unconditionally and you will change someone's life. You will also give yourself and your children the greatest gift ever known--service. Service to your fellow man will lighten any burden you may have. It is paying it forward and everyone needs that.

Still doubt me?

Many people say, "such and such change my life!" I never quite understood what they meant until I saw this film. It changed the way I think, hear and see all life. Please watch it and don't just gift this year, "gift" back. A very wise man once said, "that those who seek they're lives shall lose them, but those who lose their lives, for my sake, shall find them". Lose your life in service to your fellow men this season and find out who you really are!

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to all of God's children!"

--Black Friday 2008

--MHW

Halloween 2009--the nieces and nephew...

2009-11-03T07:15:00.000-08:00

Ok here are my kiddos--vicarious kids...

Leayla was a piratess...

Zakk was a young Jedi in traning...

Hart was the Bride of Frankenstein...

One Moment....

2009-09-17T15:19:00.000-07:00

Alright, I am going to compare this class with a game of golf--not that I am an avid golfer. In golf, as in theatre, and in this class, so much of what we do seems "to be a risk. You just don't know. So much of it is alchemy and timing" and sometimes the weather. The point is that having success can be vastly out of your control. Why? Because in golf there are rules that tell you what is successful. In theatre it is the audience that will let you know if they think your show was successful. In class it is your students. Whether it be through their grades (OK, so that is partially up to them...)or their responses--you often feel that your 'presentation' was a success if they respond, participate, and actively understand what it is you are trying to convey. And, well, you feel less successful if they don't.

Today, they were different. Lord bless the little freshman who wanted her dream job to be dyeing fabric, drawing scenes or clothing, and working with pastels. I wrote on her paper, "Come and talk with me about how this can be part of your college experience." Well, she came in late to class and so she didn't get a chance to look at my comments so I called her up after class to speak about her dream job.

I said, "Do you realize that I teach a class in which you could be dyeing and printing fabric for an assignment? Now it is not the whole class focus, but it is a part. I also teach another class where you can do costume design. Professor Hansen teaches scenic design--you would have to draw scenery and paint it as well. Also, there is a class where you can combine these elements of design to create your own world through your collaboration with others." She began to smile and her eyes became HUGE!
"There is?"
"Yes and these classes and professors are in the Eccles Fine Arts Building--we are the Department of Theatre. You can make a living from something that you love to do."

"I'm gonna call my Mom!"

True story...and I felt as though I hit a hole in one. So, today, it was worth playing the game...

We have moved to Utah...August 2009

2009-09-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

And scene...Just kidding. Yep, Utah. I now teach at Dixie State. It is a small school but the facilities are amazing. It is even cooler--temperature wise--than Mesa..ah the challenges of a new situation await.

27 Random Truths

2009-06-23T13:59:00.000-07:00

1. Apples, not caffeine, are more efficient at waking you up in the morning.

2. Alfred Hitchcock didn't have a belly button.

3. A pack-a-day smoker will lose approximately 2 teeth every 10 years.

4. People do not get sick from cold weather; it's from being indoors a lot more.

5. When you sneeze, all bodily functions stop, even your heart!

6. Only 7 percent of the population are lefties.

7. Forty people are sent to the hospital for dogs bites every minute.

8. Babies are born without kneecaps. They don't appear until they are 2-6 years old.

9. The average person over 50 will have spent 5 years waiting in lines.

10. The toothbrush was invented in 1498.

11. The average housefly lives for one month.

12. 40,000 Americans are injured by toilets each year.

13 . A coat hanger is 44 inches long when straightened.

14. The average computer user blinks 7 times a minute.

15. Your feet are bigger in the afternoon than any other time of day.

16. Most of us have eaten a spider in our sleep.

17. The REAL reason ostriches stick their head in the sand is to search for water.

18. The only two animals that can see behind themselves without turning their heads are the rabbit and the parrot.

19. John Travolta turned down the starring roles in 'An Officer and a Gentleman' and 'Tootsie.'

20. Michael Jackson owned the rights to the South Carolina State Anthem.

21. In most television commercials advertising milk, a mixture of white paint and a little thinner is used in place of the milk.

22. Prince Charles and Prince William NEVER travel on the same airplane, just in case there is a crash.

23. The first Harley Davidson motorcycle built in 1903 used a tomato can for a carburetor.

24. Most hospitals make money by selling the umbilical cords cut from women who give birth. They are used in vein transplant surgery.

25. Humphrey Bogart was related to Princess Diana. They were 7th cousins.

26. If coloring weren't added to Coca-Cola, it would be green.

27. Emus and Kangaroos can not walk backwards.

Interesting, huh?

The Fireman's Revenge

2009-06-23T13:55:00.001-07:00

Paparazzi and Crazy Fans

2009-06-17T12:42:00.001-07:00

I found this question about the stars of Twilight: Are the paparazzi and some fans going too far?

Although I have not met any of the actors from the Twilight Saga, I have met other other Hollywood actors. They are real people. Just as normal as you or me. The difference between us, however, is that acting is their job. It is very hard work. Sure it looks easy but we have the privilege of seeing the finished product. Think about it--many times the success or failure of a movie or stage play can rest upon the shoulders of the actor. They stand at that precipice of success or failure and walk the line trying to convince you that what you see is real and tangible. If the acting and emotion you see on the screen seems real, then the actors directors, casting agents and various others have done their jobs well.

I do feel that the paparazzi and some fans go too far. If you were walking down the street and someone started screaming your name you would be startled and confused. You may even run in fear for your life. If it happened everyday by the same group of people who just happened to have cameras, you might file a restraining order. But you're not famous, you're an everyday Joe or Jane. Famous people aren't allowed to live their life like you or I because of the type of profession they have. Movies are seen by everyone and the actors' faces become so familiar they are instantly recognizable and therefore an over night sensation. Because of this many people draw assumptions about how that actor must really be off the screen. They couldn't be more wrong.

Fans are sometimes so obsessed with knowing an actors every moment that they use it to justify their own every day actions and sometimes their very existence. For example: "If 'Famous Actress' does her own laundry, then she must be just like me! Wow! And she uses the same detergent!" "Look 'Hot Handsome Actor' smokes the same brand of cigarette that I do, we're totally alike!" "OMG! 'Firery Young Star' loves Starbucks--it must be so good. I should get some, too. We'll be so alike." WRONG! You don't know them. They don't come over to your house for Thanksgiving Dinner; text you several times a day; you probably didn't grow up as best friends either. No one really wants to be attacked by a group of screaming people obsessed with your every move. C'mon, do you really want to end up like Felicia with an ABBA turd hanging around your neck (The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert)? They are private citizens who should be treated with respect and dignity. They shouldn't have to worry about a paparazzi chasing them into a store while they're 8 months pregnant--yeah, this happened to Naomi Watts and the paparazzi called her a "B*TCH when she turned around and yelled at them! Be kind not obsessed when you meet famous people, they appreciate it more.

The following video appears on youtube courtesy of Pattinsongallery

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzkqfcMLmUM&NR=1

Oi! Crazy Fans! Listen for the girl screaming and then crying as she says Mr. Pattinsons name over and over...Get a freaking life! Stop chasing after a man who is probably nothing like what you see on the movie screen.

Honestly, I love J.K. Simmons as an actor but I would never chase him down the street trying to rip off his clothing. Once I was at a USITT convention and Kevin Smith was at Comic Con both were held at the same center. Yes, I saw him. We both happened to be waiting for a taxi to the airport--yes I was in feet of Mr. Smith. I wanted to say, "Hey, Mr. Smith. Loved Dogma. Thanks." But I didn't. It just wouldn't have been right to draw that kind of attention to him with other people around. And yes, I was a little chicken. However, better to be thought a fool for keeping silent than opening my mouth and removing all doubt.

--MHW

Snow Birds: Buy this Condo in AZ

2009-06-14T14:44:00.000-07:00

This is our condo. It is in very good condition. We must sell it so that I can take the professorship at Dixie State College. If you know of anyone who wants to buy a property to rent or have a home for the winter, please call our real estate agent at the above number. Thank you.

--MHW

Surf's up by Clark Little

2009-04-25T14:29:00.001-07:00

These incredible images of waves were taken by the number one photographer of surf: Clark Little. He has dedicated his life to photographing the waves and has published a selection of the the best images of his career. He captures magical moments inside the "tube", as surfers say.

Water Sculpture Clark Little/SWNS

Break ... wave crashes down Clark Little/SWNS

Red ... mysterious shot Clark Little/SWNS

Splash ... stunning shot Clark Little/SWNS

White ... tumultuous water Clark Little/SWNS

Molten ... liquid gold Clark Little/SWNS

Beach ... surf crashes down Clark Little/SWNS

Tubular ... shining Clark Little/SWNS

Sand ... in surf Clark Little/SWNS

Sun ... glints off wave Clark Little/SWNS

He takes a beautiful shot, yeah?

--MHW

A Story by Howard Gladwin

2009-04-25T14:19:00.000-07:00

I just read this and had to share...

By Howard Gladwin

In a Washington college classroom, they were discussing the qualifications to be President of the United States . It was pretty simple: the candidate must be a natural born citizen of at least 35 years of age. However, one girl in the class immediately started in on how unfair was the requirement to be a natural born citizen. In short, her opinion was that this requirement prevented many capable individuals from becoming president. The class was taking it in and letting her rant, but everyone's jaw hit the floor when she wrapped up her argument by stating, 'What makes a natural born citizen any more qualified to lead this country than one born by C-section.

Yep, these are some of the 18 year olds that just voted in the last election. The future leaders of our country!

--MHW

My "Adopted" Family

2009-04-21T08:30:00.000-07:00

I have this habit of collecting old photographs from thrift and antique stores. Feeling bad for the unknown souls, I carefully take them home and "adopt" them as my own family. The story teller in me creates a history for the people who stare back at me from the brittle, fragile paper. I often use the photos as historical research for the shows that I design and sometimes they make their way on to the stage as prop photographs and set dressing (always as copies of course--I do not want to further damage the originals).

Here are a few that I have collected over the years. If you recognize them--please let me know. I will be happy to return them to their true families.

Aren't they the happy couple? I really love this one. They do not looked strained as so many did when holding for the photo. Mr. & Mrs. look genuinely happy to be together. The photo was removed from its cardboard holder and contains no information.

Now this gentleman...he looks fierce! I bet he was a strict man of hard principles. The back of the photo says "Grampa Floyd" The photo was taken at Boyd Studios of Walnut Street in Des Moines, Iowa.

This lovely lady mystifies me. I can't tell if she is just timid or if she has some secret worth telling. The back of the photo says "Maggie M. Sweeney". The photo was taken at J.B. Gibson, Artistic Photographer, Coatesville, Pennsylvania.

He's very handsome, isn't he? Probably closing in on eighteen or twenty years. Maybe a college photo? The photo was taken by S. Smith of DeWitt, Iowa.

Another stern individual. She appears to have fought life very hard. I love the ribbon locket around her neck. This photo was taken by Thayer of Lake City, Iowa.

Here we have another beautiful couple. So sweet. According to the back of the photograph, they are Fred & Alice Wright. The photo was take by Zwiggle & Johnson's Studios in Rapid City, South Dakota.

Baby photos are rare for me to find. Many times it is difficult to tell if they are male or female as babies were all dressed the same until about 3 years of age. Luckily, this one simply says "Grandmother" and was also taken by S. Smith Photographer of DeWitt, Iowa.

A formal photo of sorts--notice the white bow tie, vest and frock coat. He reminds me of a violinist. This photo has no identifying markings as to the photographer but in the upper right hand corner is a name--Harry Paynlear (that is doing my best as I really can not make out the surname clearly).

This lovely lady probably sat for this photo during the mid to late 1920's. Again, there are no clues as to the photographer, location or even the identity of the woman.

This handsome young man also goes without identity. The photo was probably taken any time between 1923-1935--that is just a guess. Without really being able to view his full attire, I can only speculate when he lived. The card board holder has the photography studio as Janousek of Yankton, South Dakota.

If you know or recognize these individuals, please leave a contact address in under the comment section below.

--MHW

The Gangs of Helena Montana

2009-04-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Ah, how I miss this....

Somewhere there's a man wishing for hunting season.

Just looks like the "Hartford Insurance" logo, doesn't it?

Tummies full. Nap Time!!

The ones at the top always taste better.

"That's right! Run, you hoodlums!"

These photos were sent to me via email and I just had to share them.

--MHW

The Oedipus Post Mortem

2009-03-11T07:48:00.000-07:00

Aaron Blanco as Oedipus

Ah...now that Oedipus is over let's take a look back and see if I feel differently....

Uh, maybe...no? OK, maybe a little...The show was a visual feast. The "post apocalyptic tribal masochistic society" definitely had presence. The world in which they lived was dangerous, jagged at every turn, and about to collapse upon it's inhabitants at any moment. But it was lacking...emotion? Or maybe the message? The direction was definitely lacking. It was lost at times and even lacking verbal--action based follow through. There was a great deal of yelling and screaming. At times, I could hardly understand just what was being said by the actors. I am proud of the overall look of the show and those who had a hand in creating the vision--I simply saw this play as something different and going in a much different direction.

The messenger who tells of Iocaste's fate

I needed Oedipus, as a character in this play, to have an almost Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde like quality. Meaning, I needed to see his loving nature for his people then his complete irrational dangerous side of his personality. However, there was none...nothing, just one level--loud arrogance. For me, this side should have be one side of many facets in his personality. Oedipus, as a man and as a king, should portray the brilliant, discerning ruler who can" suckle" his kingdom by knowing what it needs even before it knows what those needs are and yet show his rash side through the retelling of the incident at the three crossroads as well as in his dismissal of the blind prophet, Tiresias. He should be a wise, confident King but instead was nothing more than a loud, creepy, arrogant man. I say creepy because at times the King seems to molest the children of Thebes. We shouldn't have a foreshadowing of any incest because the reveal of such debauchery only lessens the shock of the true identity of Oedipus! It also detracts from the heinous nature of such a crime. To have such an act foreshadowed confuses the audience..."Why is it OK to 'molest' others close to you but not OK to sleep with Mom?" I know as I sat in the audience, I wondered this and my wonderings were audibly manifested by a woman sitting behind me. Really, for your average audience member, Greek tragedies (for that matter, Greek plays in general) are confusing enough so they do not need to be made more confusing by blurring the lines of what is determined to be right and wrong. Clarify your message by drawing bold lines between opposing sides.

Creon...Creon...Creon...again, the direction came on too strong. We should see the change in Creon happen as the play proceeds--starting out as faithful friend and brother then moving onto the politician and finally, the man who would be king. Creon is the brother to Iocaste and with her, he and Oedipus rule the kingdom as a family although Oedipus is the named king. He is sensitive and has a concern about the effects of the news from the oracle. But, in what I witnessed, never once did I believe that Creon and Oedipus were ever friends only rivals. In this production, it appeared as though Creon was searching for any way to usurp the kingdom and take the throne for himself. In many ways I felt as though I were watching Richard III instead of Oedipus.

Creon with Ismene & Antigone

Hmmm...The Chorus...ambivalent? There wasn't an understandable opposition of the strophe and antistrophe. The Choragos (for our play was just one man--I was OK with that...) was rational at least on the page but in action I could not tell if he was supposed to be helping Oedipus and the audience understand/weigh out the sides that had been presented or if he was just some crazy guy that had had given a set of overly used wings to...yes, people wings! I do it for many shows, but my hope was that it would create a powerful look to the actor who's words were meant to be an influential argument persuading against the rash side of Oedipus' personality. (Well, that is what we are supposed to hope for, anyway.)

Choragos

There wasn't any difference in the opposing arguments. I tried to create the clarity through the costuming but the lines became blurred through the vision of the dominants and submissives. The point when this became most bothersome is when, after Iocaste commits suicide, the chorus should be lamenting the loss of the queen's life and showing forth the emotion of the situations that have been and fearful knowing of the situations that must surely be. Unfortunately, they just appeared and sounded callous, hardhearted, and indifferent to her death. When I could endure it no longer I closed my eyes and began to see the image of how I longed for it to be...the chorus in off white set against a dark blue cyc with minimalist scenic pieces chanting a mournful tune while male members of the chorus carry a sarcophagus of the fallen queen...an image of beauty, greatness and loss...the lines of the chorus would then spew forth like a fountain of emotion covering the audience with the horror of not only the incestuous acts but also the tragedy of the King's inability to have made any choices other than those that were made...and...then the scene would change to a darker cyc saturated with red as the fallen king, Oedipus, is led forth by those who still appear loyal to him...the scene should grow darker as the consequences of his actions set in motion the fate of Thebes with Creon heartsick and angered over the ghastly events that have now given him the kingdom...ultimately leaving the stage dark as a single pool of light bathes the empty throne of Thebes...holding for 5 seconds, growing brighter, brighter, brighter...and then sound cue "boom" and lights out...

High Priest with submissives

The blind king

Hey, a girl can dream...--MHW

PUSH Movie Review

2009-03-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

It started strong and really captured my attention but somewhere along the way it lost everything. Pieces of the storyline were just verbalized without us seeing any sort of brief flashback or supportive reasoning almost as if we were to be shocked to discover these bits of trivia. OK, fine but continue to tie everything in a neat bow, please. It was disconnected and uncertain of where it was headed which directly mirrors our protagonists' journey. Again, fine but it didn't translate very well in the overall telling of the story.

Djimon Hounsou was a fantastic "walk the line between good and evil" scary bad guy, but then again when is he not? Dakota Fanning has a drunk scene--she's not our little girl anymore. It was nice to see Ming-Na acting again--acting at all! She is an under used dramatic actress. I loved her in the Joy Luck Club and I hear a lot in voice overs but it is nice to SEE her act.

Cinematography: As far as the scope of the city was concerned--I feel that it was done justice, although very few shots were from the water front. Unfortunate, since most of its American audience is so familiar with that view. Lots of market area shots and what seemed to be more of a "slum" area. Many times the camera was "jerky" as part of the "PUSH" telekinetic effect. At times this effect faded into a type of shaky film separation, as if the projector is about to melt the film right before our eyes. The angle of the camera in many scenes was actually kind of refreshing as if we were watching the film from another perspective besides our own--like someone was watching over the characters. This part of the cinematography intrigued me so much so that I found myself waiting for the "reveal" of this unseen character, but again the movie disappoints. I was also disappointed by the lame ending. It just ended. Reasonable, I suppose as the writers/directors/producers have left the movie open for a sequel but why would I want to see that after this miserable failure?

Overall, I'd give it a barely passing....C

--MH

Oedipus

2009-01-28T06:03:00.000-08:00

OEDPIUS REX
(painting from Uncover Austin Magazine)

There are just days when I want to poke my own eyes out--yeah, I know, suiting.

So I am designing Oedipus for MCC here in Mesa and well, I have a slight resignation about it. I am not totally in love with the concept laid out for the designers. Call me a traditionalist but I feel that some plays should not be messed with very much--you know, "let's not take it so far out of reality that we alienate our current demographic". However, this concept--if marketed correctly--will bring in a whole new demographic and that is great, but this is also why I am hesitant. I worry about how it will be marketed.

Firstly, the concept is...wait for it..."post apocalyptic sadomasochism". Shocker, right? Everyone and their pet cat has done this and Julie Tamor has done it better, thank you very much. Don't get me wrong, I can do this. It is not beyond my capabilities just beyond my logical understanding? I am not sure how this will further the plot. Yes, elements of the concept will serve to further the plot but has the director pushed it too far? Not only do we have fetish wear but huge body tattoos as well. What purpose does it serve if the show looks "cool" but the audience fails to understand the message? I am not saying that it should not have been set in another time period, only that perhaps the concept should have been reined in just a smidge.

Really ROUGH sketches for Creon and the chorus priestesses

Secondly, what is this young director trying to prove? "Hey look at what I can do? Isn't it the coolest thing since the internet?" Maybe. I am well aware that educational theatre is allowed to experiment because the funding is more stable that that of independent theatres but there are still funds attached based on the monetary numbers of the house and needs of the department. When the deciding committees get together and figure out what plays to perform the following season, they do it with a budget in mind. The smaller the buget the smaller the concept? Perhaps. Great shows have been done on limited bugets with great success but will this be one of them? I do not know the answer to that..I wish I did.

Where's Alice when you need her? LOL

--MH

The Angel....of Death...or not...

2009-01-27T13:58:00.000-08:00

Her Lover or a Psychopomp?

(click above picture to hear Tea Party's Angels)

Psychopomp: Guider of souls; Personified and perceived as a male or female spirit, angel, or personage responsible for the mediation and conduction of the earthly dead from the conscious realm to the unconscious realm--earth and heaven; also responsible for finding lost souls and guiding them on to the next life.

So often in her Twilight series, Ms. Meyer has Bella referring to Edward as her angel. For me, the imagery fits. Edward is often referred to as so painfully beautiful that I found myself saying, "Alright, already! I will never be that beautiful...stupid shiny Volvo owner!" Meh? What's a human to do? And then I began to ponder on what could be construed as the metatphoric meaning of the angellic references. Angels, in christian teaching, usually guide humans to righteous choices or celestial paths. Where was this angellic imagery taking Bella? What path and why? Why is the bond so strong so quickly no matter the distance?

Where does the "angel" take Bella? Anywhere?--Maybe. She is drawn to Edward by an involuntary need with in herself. He is mysterious and handsome and she cannot resist what seems to be hiding behind his eyes. We may attribute this to Bella's "danger magnet"...or maybe she just can't resist a good mystery. When Edward save s her from being crushed by Tyler's van with his bare hands, Bella is driven to find out who and what Edward might be. Bella "tricks" Jacob into telling her what the Cullens are. She confronts Edward about what she believes he is and when given her answer, Bella is relieved, not scared. It is always her choice to follow Edward. He never wants to force her to turn away from humanity or what it means to be human--even duping her in to attending prom so that she will not miss important human rights of passage. Even in this, Edward asks if she is angry or wishes to leave. He always give her the choice to go with him or not.

What path have Edward and Bella taken? It is the path of love. One that involves passion. A need--like we need air-- to be with one another no matter the cost. The kind of love everyone wants. It is this kind of love that seals the bond and makes it so strong. It is why they can not live without one another. They are soul mates although, Edward professes to believe that he lacks one.

And when the path seems to be at an end...I admired Edward's respect of Jacob Black when he sought permission to "turn" Bella into a vampire should her pregnancy not end well. Knowing that they, two, could not live in a world without Bella in it shows compassion. It was a level of respect that Jacob did not expect. Through his permission the path is allowed to continue on this earth.

So, metaphorically speaking, the character of Edward is a type of psychopomp. He lovingly guides Bella from her mortality to immortality. He is her angel in death as well as in life.

"He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn’t imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon."
Bella Swan, Twilight, Chapter 12, p.241

Psychopomp By Tea Party

(click above to hear Tea Party sing this song)

You wanted this
So sad to see
The sweet decay
Of ecstasy

And you want it all

A frozen sun,
Will guide you there
As shadows hide
The deep despair

I'll give you something more
And you'll fade away
One last kiss before
You fade away.

So sleep tonight,
In idle dreams
The pain will drown,
Your silent screams

And you want it all

I'll give you something more
And you'll fade away
One last kiss before
You fade away
Lives you once adored
will fade away
Lies you can't ignore
You soon repay
As you fade away

Shakespeare & Meyer: Shared Imagery

2009-01-15T21:58:00.000-08:00

click below to hear Paramore's Decode

There are many obvious parallels to our friend, William, aren't there Ms. Meyer?

Isn't it interesting that Stephanie Meyer has chosen to adhere to the high school reading list? By this I mean our characters are supposed to be reading things like Romeo and Juliet and there are many intelligent and clandestine comparisons in Ms. Meyer's books to the high school reading list of her characters.

Firstly, who doesn't obviously compare Bella and Edward to Romeo and Juliet. Juliet on a balcony with Romeo below; Bella at the upstairs window with Edward below; lovers destined to be with one another but separated by unnatural hatred of warring houses or unnatural love of species; la tua cantate and star-crossed lovers; blah, blah, blah...Get it?

It is worthy of note that Shakespeare's lovers are "star-crossed" which serves to intimate that the stars themselves have predestined the love and end of that love. Conversely, Meyer sets her novel in an area of the North American rainforest that rarely sees sun let alone stars, therefore their fate cannot be "predestined" by the stars. Not even Alice, with her visions of the future, is not right all of the time although she could be construed as a Greek Oracle--that is for another discussion.

Alright, so what seems to be the major theme for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is love--specifically young, passionate love, even forbidden love. The same can be said for Meyer's first two books, Twilight & New Moon. Our lovers in both cases can't not avoid one another. For Romeo and Juliet they are doomed lovers. Choices, circumstances, and misunderstandings lead to their deaths. However, in Twilight, Meyer doesn't doom her lovers' love to death but rather seals their fate to loving one another for eternity in this life and not yet in heaven as are Shakespeare's lovers.

Romeo and Edward are similar in one important way--each makes a conscious decision towards love and the circumstances that surround it. Romeo and Edward are aware of the hazards of breaking social expectations and prior commitments not only to self but family as well. Neither one are subjects of the Greek tragedy or hamartia. They have no real tragic flaw because they choose their paths and make mistakes. For example, Romeo confronts and challenges Thibault after Mercutio's death. He chooses to kill Thibault not because he is flawed to do so but because of his circumstance. Romeo must uphold his family’s honor—it is a social norm of the time that cannot be ignored. By comparison, Edward chooses to save Bella from being crushed by Tyler's van not only because he loves her but also because of his circumstance: he is impossibly fast and can get to her before the van; he must save his family from exposure because allowing Bella's blood to be spilled would have rendered Jasper uncontrollable as well as himself. Hamartia in the essential Greek sense means"to have a moral deficit". In this light it is clear that neither Romeo nor Edward have any such defect in their morality.

A major motif in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is the imagery of light and dark: Loyalty to family or loyalty to love. The imagery in Twilight saga is similar. Fascinatingly, light is not always good and dark is not always bad but there are many shades of gray. Lines are blurred--this is especially true in New Moon. Bella is in conflict as Edward leaves her "for her own safety". She falls into a dark place for months as her depression deepens over her loss of Edward. She eventually seeks companionship from Jacob Black. Bella is not romantically in love with Jacob and only cares for him as her very best friend. When she learns that Jacob is a "werewolf" and has a hatred of all vampires--good or bad--her lines of what is right or wrong, light or dark become blurred. She can not convince Jacob that not all vampires are bad and would not violate the ancient treaty of the Quilleuttes. Bella describes Jacob as being like Paris in the tale of Romeo and Juliet:

Scan from New Moon pages 370-371

The use of the light and dark imagery in Romeo and Juliet is also to show conflicting alternatives of equating the light of someone in one's life to the darkness--death in a sense; in Bella's case, a hole--that the absence of that beloved can exhibit. Juliet is Romeo's sun and Edward is Bella's light and comfort and vise versa. In Romeo's soliloquy under the balcony, as he contemplates the sun and the moon saying that Juliet is the sun and he wishes to banish the moon so that he may only have his sunlight. He continues in his wish to stay with his "light", Juliet, the morning after their only night together, “More light and light, more dark and dark our woes” (III.v.3). Romeo, like Edward, has no wish to live in a world where his light is not.

Similarly, Bella pursues "more light and light" as she tries to fill her need to hold on to Edward after he has left. She pursues dangerous "extreme sports" that she might hear his voice warning her to stop what she is doing. She has no wish to release him from her life and she states as much in New Moon as she mulls over Shakespeare's lovers: "She (Juliet) would never have moved on...Even if she lived until she was old and gray, every time she closed her eyes, it would have been Romeo's face she saw behind her lids". Bella cannot live in this manner. She, like Juliet, cannot live without her Romeo following him in to death, if necessary, so as not to be without him: "I'd never seen anything more beautiful--even as I ran, gasping and screaming, I could appreciate that. And the last seven months meant nothing. And his words in the forest meant nothing. And it did not matter if he did not want me. I would never want anything but him, no matter how long I lived" (New Moon, page 451). Similarly, Juliet feels the same upon waking from her false death to discover her lover, her only love, truly dead, "O happy dagger! This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die" (Act V.iii).

I do not fault Ms. Meyer in her choice to share such similar imagery--either conscious or unconscious. Rather, I am pleased and admire her for doing so. She has given a generation of young readers the ability to relate Romeo and Juliet toward their own lives. For me and some of my friends--Jeanene--she is a hope that we, too, can publish our own works!

--MH

Similar/Related Quotes

The odds are always stacked against us. Mistake after mistake. I’ll never criticize Romeo again.
Edward Cullen, New Moon, Chapter 23, p.508

Damn it, Bella! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.
Edward Cullen, Twilight, Chapter 17, p.363

"Tempt not a desperate man" - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 5.3

I'm not a child anymore...

2009-01-13T15:04:00.000-08:00

For Beverly Jo Nelson

LIGHTNING CRASHES
by live
(click above link to hear song)

...lightning crashes, an old mother dies
her intentions fall to the floor
the angel closes her eyes
the confusion that was hers
belongs now, to the baby down the hall

oh now feel it comin' back again
like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
forces pullin' from the center of the earth again
I can feel it... the angel opens her eyes...
presents the circle
and puts the glory out to hide, hide...

Earlier on of my posts I queried, "When vampires who are nightmarish enter the scene then can't we see just how truly like humans they are--Can't humans be just evil? Nightmarish? Don't we have serial killers? People who murder for tiniest reason? [Don't believe me--I have a personal story there--another time perhaps?]"

Now is the time...

On March 19, 1981, my sister, Beverly Nelson, was found dead in a pool of her own blood at the Burgerville USA where she was the assistant manager. She had been beaten with a hammer and shot during a robbery. Four youths were sentenced for the crime--they were all under the age of twenty-one. She was just 27 years old. I was eight and can remember that day as if it happened 20 minutes ago.

That cold March day I sat blissfully at school unaware of the tragic news that would be there to greet me as I got off the bus. I aced my spelling test and that meant that I would be rewarded with a promised desire for having achieved my goal. Carol and Mel, my parents, put a high price on education and I intended to obtain every reward that I could. As I got off the bus that afternoon, my prized test clutched in my hand, I was happy and eager to tell my Mom the good news. It was all the proof that I needed to have my reward given to me...I was focused. I ran in to my grandparents' house [we were living with them so that my Mom could help my grandmother with tasks like cleaning and bathing], bursting with excitement but the soberness of the scene stopped me in my tracks. My Grandma sat at the kitchen table blankly staring at her hands. Her long snow white hair which was usually put into a neat bun at the back of her head now hung around her shoulders partially covering her face. My Mom sat opposite of her also staring blankly down at her hands. I started to panic. A barrage of questions quickly escaped my mouth.

"Mom? What's wrong? Is the baby [my sister Becky] OK? Rachel? Where's Grandpa? Is he OK? Is it Dad? Where's Dad?"

She stared at me as if some kind of pain was keeping her from speaking.

"Mom? Are you OK?"

She was nodding her head "yes" as she said, "The girls are fine. Grandpa's on the couch and Dad is at work."

Then what was wrong? I looked at my Grandfather, age had not taken his his hair nor its color, but his face was pale almost grey. He was a tall man to me but at this moment he seemed so small and frail. I knew that things were certainly not fine and I wanted to know what the matter was. In any case, I was eight and doing jobs around the house that most kids my age weren't allowed to do. I could handle this. It couldn't be so bad, could it? Maybe we were moving again? No, what ever it was couldn't be that bad.

I looked at my Mom again and pleaded for her to tell me exactly what was wrong. She stared at me for a long moment. If I wasn't so scared I might have continued on in my excitement not knowing the answer. My Mother's eyes began to water as she struggled to find the right words to tell me. She started and then stopped.

"Moni...Bev can't come for the family reunion this summer..."

This wasn't bad. Bev could come later with her husband and son. When I mentioned my thoughts my Mom hung her head. Looking back on this moment, I realize how hard this must have been for her. This was one of life's toughest blows and she had to explain it to an eight year old. How? How do you tell a child that someone she loved has died? Not just died but was brutally murdered over a small sum of money in a register. How would she even comprehend the words? The moments ticked by...I stared back...

I loved Beverly. She and my brother, Terry, came to our house when we lived in Washington. They were nice to my Mom even though they didn't have to be--after all, she was their stepmother. It was nice to have an older sister even though she was so much older than me. I always looked forward to the day when I could just talk with her like she would talk with my Mom.

I stared at my Mom waiting for the rest of her explanation. She made the choice to just tell me and be done with it.

"Beverly was...um...honey, Beverly...died today. Some men killed her"

It was a surreal moment. For me, it felt as though time had stopped for an instant. There were so many thoughts racing in my head that I couldn't hear anymore. They stared at me...waiting...and then somewhere in the pit of my stomach I heard a noise. Not just a noise but a scream. I was screaming. I dropped everything and ran out the back door past my Aunt Judy's house and down the road where my cousin Beth and her brothers were playing in a newly constructed fort. They laughed and yelled for me to come and play.

"Play?" I thought, "I don't feel like a kid anymore. How can I play?"

Of course they would be happy to play it wasn't their fault. I just wished that I could've been that happy and able to forget what had just stolen the innocence of my world. I rushed in to my own yard and slumped onto the swing. My tears rolled off my cheeks and down the red wool coat I wore. Red...blood...died...killed...

Soon I felt a hand on my leg. I don't know how long I sat there before Beth and Jason had come over to see me. Fumbling for the words, I tried to explain what was the matter, but I didn't know what to say and I'm certain that I wasn't making any sense to them. It didn't matter. They just sat there with me and let me cry. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever done. Simple. Perfect and nice. We sat there until my Dad whistled for me to come back to Grandma's house. As I walked out of the yard and passed through the gate I felt a sense of urgency for my Dad. His loss was my loss. I ran to him knowing that if anyone could make me feel better it was my Dad. I threw my arms around him, clinging to him as if he would disappear, too.

"C'mon, Bev, it's getting cold out here. Let's go inside..."

Surely, I heard him wrong. I held his hand as we walked silently to the door. The house was eerily silent except for the low murmur of my Grandpa's voice as he spoke to my Dad or my sisters as they fussed. My Mom didn't need to ask me to set the table, automatic pilot set in and I put the silverware on to the table. As we sat at the table, the silence became louder. No one really ate. Moslty we picked at the food but went through the motions as if we did eat. The dishes of food were passed around as was the salt and pepper...

"Bev, pass me the peas." I looked at my Dad, perplexedly. This time I hadn't heard him wrong.

"Dad, I'm not..." but my objection was silenced by my Grandmother as she covered my hand with hers. When I looked at her, she just shook her head and smiled at me. I was devastated. Did he miss Beverly so much that he wanted her instead of me? Could he not see who I was? Questions and doubt clouded my mind as I cleared the table. I stood at the sink, mindlessly playing with the suds.

"Monica, you know that your Daddy doesn't wish you were gone, right?"

It was Grandma. My pain over my Dad's lack of recognition was written all over my face. I didn't understand why he would make such an obvious mistake.

"Have you ever seen pictures of Beverly as a child?"

"Um...no."

"You look a lot like her. When your Daddy looks at you he can see Bev, honey. He hurts, maybe not in the same way you do, but he is hurting. He has to be strong and he doesn't want to cry. He wants to be strong for you, your sisters and your Mom. Don't correct him when he says your name wrong. When the time is right he'll find his way. Don't worry, honey."

It was three months before my Dad called me by my own name on a consistent basis. I wasn't allowed to go with my parents back to Washington state to Beverly's funeral. My parents felt that because she had been beaten with a hammer and there was an open casket, Beverly might not look like I remembered. It was better for me to not remember her like that lying in a coffin.

"Honey, it's only her body in that box not her spirit. You have a better memory of Bev in here..." my Mom said as she rested her hand on my head, "than you would if you saw her at the funeral."

I'm still not fully convinced that I agree with my parents decision. Do not misunderstand me, I fully comprehend why they made their choice but I simply wanted my chance to say 'goodbye'.

Bye, Beverly....save me a seat...

Ed Nelson, Beverly's husband once said this with regards to this tragedy: " It was hard, he said, to learn how his wife had been brutally murdered. "It's not the life I dreamed of," Nelson said. "This may sound strange," he said, "but I believe there is a purpose for everything. There's something to be learned. I can't change the circumstances, but I can decide how I let it affect me. These are building blocks in my life. I didn't order them, but I'll be a better human being for it."

I hope I can always remember this. --MH

Unconditional Love

2009-01-09T14:24:00.000-08:00

"Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something."

Bella Swan, Twilight, Preface, p.1

What is unconditional love? How do we recognize it? Wikipedia describes unconditional love as the following: Unconditional love is a term that means to love someone regardless of his actions or beliefs. It is a concept comparable to true love, a term which is more frequently used to describe love between lovers. By contrast, unconditional love is frequently used to describe love between family members, comrades in arms and between others in highly committed relationships. It has also been used in a religious context to describe God's love for humankind through the forgiveness of Christ. However, this can be seen as contradictory in some cases where God's "unconditional" love is predicated upon the believer's fulfillment of one or more criteria. But this love is not solely based on those met expectations.

Can we recognize it without confusing this love for the enabling of bad behavior? Ah, this is the tricky part. Too many times people, often women, confuse unconditional love with looking past the bad or inappropriate behavior of a spouse or significant other which results in physical or mental harm.

For my part today, it is interesting to note that Bella and Edward have such a relationship--sort of? Yes? Yes. No? It is kind of grey. Despite his claims, Edward is able to walk away from Bella in New Moon so that he doesn't continue to put her life in danger because of what he and his family are...vampires. And Bella?--she is able to love Edward despite the possibility that he may not have always honored human life. It doesn't matter to her. As far as she is concerned he has had 70 years to change his ways and go straight. Stay straight. His past for her is not what he was then but what he is now. She looks at him and sees a future--albeit a future like his. Edward? He sees a future with and for Bella too. However, in his foresight, Bella lives a human existence, grows old, dies and then he will have the Volturri kill him shortly thereafter. For a guy who can read minds, sometimes, he can be so unimaginative...LOL.

"He, for some unfathomable reason, wanted to be with me. Anything he gave me on top of that just threw us more out of balance."

Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 1, p.13

I'm betting on Alice! If you have read the series, then you know what I mean. ..Anyhoo...It becomes a little grey and blurred when Bella becomes depressed as she pines for Edward. Her behavior is unhealthy and you may question [somewhere in the back of your mind] why she would choose to continue her affections for months, months, after he has left. Her need for him, at this point, is such a negative addiction that she endangers her life just to hear his voice "knowingly" scold her actions. And then the cogs in my brain clicked...hadn't I done this same thing at eighteen? Wasn't I in a messy break up that took me years to overcome? As I read the following quote my memories of that time came flooding back to me and helped me to remember why, as teenagers especially, we mourn the loss of love so deeply.
" When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it? If it was someone you truly loved?"
Bella Swan, Breaking Dawn, Book One Preface, p.1

It's true and I felt that strongly one in my life. Maybe time and experience has made me more rational as I aged. Who knows? I could feel that strongly again. Or will time make me so less passionate that I will logically go on with out this person in my life? I don't know--no one does. We only think we know until we are faced with those challenges and a new set of circumstances, ones we never imagined, are before us. It is then that we discover, as Bella did, what we are made of and to what lengths we will go to keep that love in our lives.

When Alice returns with bad news of Edward, Bella forgets herself, her problems, her anger and any hurt she felt in those months. She is completely selfless. Her focus becomes Edward's safety and his preservation, aiding in whatever way she can to save him--if she can save him. It is here that the character of Bella comes to an re-understanding, on some level what unconditional love means on its highest level: Dying for that person if that is what it takes. Giving of herself so freely that her own safety becomes irrelevant. Her conclusion doesn't surface until the danger passes. It is only then that she is able to put her actions and the consequences into a perspective she can understand.

"Option three: Edward loved me. The bond forged between us was not one that could be broken by absence, distance, or time. And no matter how much more special or beautiful or brilliant or perfect than me he might be, he was as irreversibly altered as I was. As I would always belong to him, so would he always be mine."
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 24, p.527

How crazy is it that it takes danger, death defiance or near misses to help us understand what we would be losing? Think about it. How many people on their death beds say, "Gee, if I had only spent more time at my job, then I would have been fulfilled?"I am going to hazard a guess here and say, hmmm...none?! At the end of our lives that is not the kind of thing we want to remember. We remember love! The happiness it brought us. The sheer joy of being with someone, anyone--lovers, children, friends--who brought love into our lives.

"The way he stared at her! It was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Like a collector finding an undiscovered Da Vinci, like a mother looking into the face of her newborn child."
Bella Swan, Eclipse, Chapter 11, p.242 [About Jared & Kim] Leave it to Baz Lurhman to burn into our memories the haunting song lyrics "...the greatest gift is to love...and to be loved in return..." Truer words were never spoken.

Let books and movies inspire you to find that "love of your life". Just keep in mind that you must stop dreaming and start living in order to find it.

--MH

For Jack Bertram

2009-01-08T19:25:00.000-08:00

"They were the faces that you never expected to see...painted by an old master as the face of an angel"
Bella Swan, Twilight, page 19

When I taught at the University of Michigan-Flint, I struck up a friendship with an unlikely man. Jack Bertram. He was about 28 years old and mature beyond the years that were given him. My first meeting with Jack was when he took a flat patterning class from me. It was not odd for a man to take these classes but Jack stood out. 'Stood out' is an understatement...Jack had presence. He was approximately 6'4" and weighed about 350 pounds. The way he was proportioned made him seem like a giant. I have large hands for a female--from the bottom of my palm to the tip of my middle finger measures about 7 1/2 inches with the palm being 4 inches at its widest point. Jack's hands were easily twice that size. His brown curly hair and full beard made him seem like something out of Norse mythology. Basically, he could crush you but honestly he would never hurt anyone.

My friendship with Jack didn't flourish until after he was my student--safety, first; no fraternizing with the students. Anyway he would come up to the costume shop and volunteer or escape the noise/drama in the lobby. Drama is always the case in the Theatre Department. We would talk about what ever he wanted. Some days it was school. Other times it was women. And then there were days when all he wanted to talk about was myths, legends and how they tied into religion, but the one thing Jack especially loved to talk about was vampire myths. He was fascinated how Christianity treated or related to them. He LOVED this subject--he loved to argue them out with you and see all sides and I genuinely looked forward to speaking with him. I had a small vampire obsession of my own thanks impart to my father and Leonard Nimoy.

The time always passed too quickly when he was on a roll but he would always come back to banter more. For a long time Jack evaded my direct question on how he came to be obsessed with vampire myths. It wasn't until learned that Jack had an epileptic seizure and would be missing classes that a theory began to formulate in my mind: when you can taste your own mortality why wouldn't you want to be immortal; there will never be enough time to do all you want to do and immortality would allow one to fulfill dreams that illness would rob.

This had to be the reason. He loved the power vampires had and especially loved Joss Whedon's Angel--because here was an vampire with a soul. One who was harrowed up by the images of the innocent lives he had taken--"doomed" as it were to righting the wrongs of those who still were soulless.

Jack returned to school a short time later. He was not his usual self since he had this grand mal attack. I was shocked. Although his stature did not change his countenance had an almost child like quality, that of a scared child. He came to visit the costume shop and I asked the usual questions about his illness--the whats, wheres, whys and how comes. And then I just spat out,

" Does your obsession with immortality and vampires have anything to do with your epilepsy?"

He was quiet for a moment and then said,

"Holy Sh*t, Monica! Don't beat around the bush." I laughed because I knew I had hit the mark. Then he said, tapping my forehead with his finger, "Get out much?" I laughed again knowing this time he had hit the mark. I don't get out of my head much. I'm safe here inside my mind--I think.

We talked about my theory and the possible truths of it. "You're right, you know?" Jack said. "I will never have enough time in this body as it is now to finish all that I hope to start." I was struck by the sadness in his voice. It wasn't anger but regret for the things he'd never dare dream to do. "Ah, well. Die young and leave a beautiful corpse...or in my case a big corpse!"

"You really don't think that you'll live a long life?" I said.

"No, I won't make it to thirty-five" he replied. There it was. I could see it in his face. Clarity...as if by revelation, "I'll be lucky to see thirty." I was thirty-three at this time and could barely fathom what he was telling me, but I have never seen truth like the truth that I saw in his eyes that afternoon.

He went on to tell me that he felt as though his epilepsy was stealing his life one seizure at a time. Of course he was obsessed with being immortal--the stakes wouldn't be as great. As a vampire, strength and inhuman power would be on his side. He would be able to travel when and wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted when he wanted without having to worry about the mind splitting pain that his gand mals inflicted. He wouldn't have to worry about taking his medications or being a guinea pig for the new meds that were supposed to rid his brain of the frequency of his seizures but always seemed to make them worse. I couldn't fault him. No one could. Looking at his scared and pain filled face that afternoon, I wished for his sake that he would have the opportunity at his immortal dream.

I left the University of Michigan-Flint in the spring of 2006, but I kept in constant contact with Jack. His friendship was one that I never wanted to lose. We always talked about religion and life after death and of course, vampires .

At the beginning of April 2007, Jack and I had a long conversation about his life and if I thought that he was good enough to go to heaven. He explained or rather confessed all he felt that he had done wrong in this world. He began to worry me a little with the manner of his questions and I asked him if everything was alright. As was usual, Jack said that everything was fine but that he'd been thinking a great deal about his family should something happen to him. He was worried about his little cousins but also his Mom. Although they hadn't always gotten along he worried that if he did die she would be devastated. Jack didn't want that but didn't know how he could stop it. I placated him with any answers I could think of but I knew it was in vain. I couldn't stop his Mother from grieving in her own way any more than Jack could.

And then Jack joked, "You know, if I was a vampire I could come back and appear to my Mom as a ghost. She probably would be less aggravating to my Dad if I did". It was funny to think of Jack doing this. Mostly it was funny because I imagined Jack "appearing" to his mother torn between his human promise to ease her grief and his new immortal thirst for blood. Should he concilate her or kill her and ease his father's pain instead? If you know Jack then you know how funny this image is...laugh it up, he would.

Two weeks later, while working for the Arizona Broadway Theatre, I received a phone call from Stevo Gilewicz. He told me that Jack had passed away from seizure related complications. Simply, he had gone to sleep and never woken up. I was shaking all over. My sobs were caught in my throat and everyone in the ABT costume shop stared at the strange guest designer who couldn't keep it together during a phone call. To put it mildly, I was a mess. I couldn't believe that he was gone--I had just talked to him. We had made plans to meet up that summer and catch up. Why now? I organized a phone tree and called everyone that I knew. When I was done I sat on the bathroom floor sobbing. And then I started laughing. I thought of Jack as a vampire standing in his mother's room fighting the urge to eat her for dinner so that he could deliver his last message to her, easing her grief all the while thinking it would have just been better to eat her!

We, who knew you Jack, miss you still...

--MH

Vampirical Similarities

2009-01-06T21:37:00.000-08:00

"But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." Genesis 2:17
I was struck by some of the similarities that Twilight has to the Buffy series--not just the obvious--human girl falls for the tall, dark and brooding Vamp--but also, the tortured nature of those beings [Angel & Edward] that believes no matter how much good they do they will still go to hell because of the nature of their current circumstance.

Again, with the similarities to humans...Don't we all feel that no matter what we do it'll never be enough or make any difference?

I do. Yes, I am religious and believe in God and the existence of evil. So, I always fight the internal battle of will I be good enough to go to heaven? It is so easy to take the road of least resistance--to give into the "human" side of myself and act out instead of rising above and acting the way God would want me to. I'm not going to lie--I am hardly ever able to rise above my gut reactions and choose the better part but hey, at least I have a sense of humor as I do it. Alright, so that is no excuse. I should chose the better part and rise above.

So, what motivates us to do this? Some of my friends would say that for me it is a form of conditioning brought on by years of religious teachings. I might agree with that were it not for one small little problem...the years where I openly rejected those teachings and went on a self destructive rampage. I chose to go against all that my parents had taught me as a kind of experiment. I wanted to see if there was anything to be gained by this behavior. If acting in a manner less than what I was taught to do or be would somehow benefit or enlighten me in such a way that would make me happier.

It did not make me happier. However, I was enlightened. I found that I had different choices that I could make. Ones that I never dreamed of and ones that I never want to think of again. I lost my sense of innocence and that can never be replaced...but my eyes were opened to my vast possibilities. Discoveries were made but mostly I was given proof that the happiness that I searched for was hidden in those core principles of truth that my parents had always taught me. So now there are days where I ask myself, "Why did I choose to veer off a perfect path? Can I ever be forgiven? Is my soul lost?" And then I wake up. Of course I am not lost. I believe that as long as I continue to try--doing all that I can do--then I have a chance at God's grace in my life.

"The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people’s lives so he wouldn’t be a monster…"
Bella Swan, Twilight, Chapter 10, p.204

Again this statement from Bella draws a parallel to our own lives. If we run around trying to save ourselves and those we love and care about then we won't be monstrous to ourselves...we will be seen as caring, noble and wonderful in their eyes. It is the stuff that the proverbial "warm fuzzies" are made from, people! Losing yourself to find yourself. It gives us a feeling of being whole--we help complete peoples lives. As humans on this earth we travel in circles. Imagine that these circles we travel are similar to dropping a stone in a still pond--this represents your life. Then another stone is dropped in the pond a short distance from where your stone has been dropped. The ripples will eventually touch one another just like we touch others and blend into their lives. The ripples blend together becoming one indistinguishable from the other.

"If I was in hell, you wouldn’t be with me."
Bella Swan, New Moon, Chapter 23, p.503

Here is hope. A gift from Bella to Edward. This quote reminds me of someone who asked me if I believed in "hell". I told him that I didn't believe in the kind of hell that we see in paintings that depict demons, fire and brimstone. I believe in a hell where the hell is a mental regret of sorts. Personal hell. For example, knowing and having a perfect recollection of every moment in your life--good and bad--and being frustrated and regretful of those things that you didn't do and now can not change. Tortured by the positive change we could have made but chose not to. Everyone has regrets don't let them fool you--they choose to not acknowledge them. The only way to truly live without any regrets is to live the very best life you can--leaving a positive mark everywhere you go.

Edward? He doesn't really believe that he is going to hell either. He holds out a hope that he will find a heaven. His hope is revealed under the clock tower of Volturra when Bella slams into him, saving him from the Volturri wrath.

"You smell just exactly the same as always. So maybe this is hell. I don’t care. I’ll take it." Edward Cullen, New Moon, Chapter 20, p.452

Carlisle always tries to reassure his son that he will not go to hell. That his existence here is a different plane. That he still has choices and the ability to honor human life. Edward lives on the hope that Carlisle is right and chooses a better path. This hope allows him to love Bella unconditionally and in return she has given him another hope--that she will love him unconditionally as well.

So, we choose. We choose the path that we will follow and those choices will bring us closer to happiness or remove us from it. The choice is ours but we must choose. We can not be fence sitters because even if we are on the right path we will still be run over if we don't continue to move forward.

--MH

The Vampire Who Wanted to be Good...

2009-01-06T14:23:00.000-08:00

The mythology of vampires is always thought to be dark, haunting and the stuff of our most terrifying nightmares. Not so in the Twilight series. Stephanie Meyer makes vampires--the Cullen family at least--inviting and open. They are almost made to appear more human than the humans at times. For example, Dr. Carlisle Cullen is a doctor, an odd choice for a vampire but as he explains in the series when a human is turned into a vampire, they will have an enhanced ability from their previous life. He believes he brought compassion [let's not forget will power and stellar good looks] from his human life. Carlisle has had centuries to perfect his abilities and medicinal talents--making him an excellent doctor. Unlike most vampires, he is not tempted by the scent of human blood, most likely due to the 300 years he has spent abstaining from this temptation.

Quick History: Carlisle's father was an Anglican Pastor that hunted for witches, demons, vampires and werewolves during the 1640's, but his father never found any real creatures of this sort just humans he believed were" the creatures of Hell" and many died not being really guilty.

When his father became ill, Carlisle, assumed his father's positions and discovered a real coven of vampires. During the raid of the coven, he and his group tried to kill the vampires, but Carlisle is bitten. Although he is not dead, he knows what his father will have done with him--burned at the stake because of contamination--and so Carlisle crawls to a heap of potatoes and buries himself for three days while the transformation becomes complete. Knowing what he has become, Carlisle leaves with no intentions of coming back.

"I’m the world’s best predator, aren’t I? Everything about me invites you in — my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!"
Edward Cullen, Twilight Chapter 13, p.263
So why make the vampires so inviting? So human? Why not? According to the series they are only separated from humans by two chromosomes. So why not show how similar vampires can be to humans?

When vampires who are nightmarish enter the scene then can't we see just how truly like humans they are--Can't humans be just evil? Nightmarish? Don't we have serial killers? People who murder for tiniest reason? [Don't believe me--I have a personal story there--another time perhaps?] It also draws a clear line, one that defines choice and free will. Look at this vampirical family that chooses to live a "vegetarian" lifestyle and see all the power and wonder that these beings hold but still have control of his/her choices. They choose to honor human life not take it and that makes them human as well as humane. It's the golden rule in its most basic form.

Are we not wondrous beings as well? And...Do we not have the same choices? Ones that can make us seem more or less human, but we may say that these characters are super-human or fictitious and their problems do not equate to ours. Fine. Believe that and choose to turn away from a belief that you are capable of achieving what you want to do.

Bella doesn't fall for Edward because she knows he's a vampire. She falls for him and is intrigued by not only him but his family because they are unique to her. A mystery that she needs to know more about. They lead, for vampires, extraordinary lives but they do not stand out in any special way other than just being a curious lot. A mystery that most people wouldn't bother exploring, but Bella isn't that ordinary either. She is discerning enough to know that Edward's agitated outward appearance is a facade to protect a deeper mystery. And so she searches...shouldn't this compel us to search out our own mysteries and find our own answers?

" I wasn’t interesting. And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to lift full-sized vans with one hand." Bella Swam Twilight, Chapter 4, p.79

We are all unique and can be just as mysterious--maybe not to ourselves but to others or someone. Find your path; find yourselves; find your dreams because you are the only ones who can fulfill them.

--MH

P.S.

I mean, really, who wouldn't like the Cullens--or at least be envious of them--they look like freakin' models for Ralph Lauren!

Vampaholic

2009-01-02T07:20:00.000-08:00

OK, OK, so I resisted the Twilight Saga for a very long time...

But then a friend got me interested by simply bringing the first book to my house. I resisted for 3 more weeks...then after a small argument with my husband, I decided to read a book.

Most of what's on my shelves I have read a number of times. So the only thing new was Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. I was determined to dislike it. I say that I was determined, however, it didn't work. So much for my stalwart resolve! By the next morning I was more than half through with the book and continued to read voraciously every spare chance I had...what the heck was wrong with me? I am a thirty-something woman not some wide-eyed teenage girl falling hopelessly in love with a fictional hero character. What was this attraction? It was "like my own personal brand of heroin". Sick--I know, but I couldn't stop. With less than 100 pages left to read, I went to see the movie. Not the greatest in cinematographic history but fun nevertheless. Have I mentioned the theater was filled with girls ages 12 to 18 years old? And...that this wasn't their first or even third time seeing it? [Lest you forget that I am an adult...anyhoo] Let us just hope if the next movie gets made that the continuity secretary is on top of his/her game. [Example: Edward says he doesn't have contacts, but in a flashback we can clearly see the ridge of a contact...but I digress.]

So why are these books so appealing? For me it is the way Ms. Meyer has carefully woven--and even sometimes blatantly woven--themes of good vs. evil; self vs. self; truth vs. myth; and conditional love vs. unconditional love. All lines are blurred there are no definitives. Ms. Meyer makes this clear with the character, Alice, and her visions of the future. Alice's visions are subject to change based on the free will of the individual. Funny that...because so are our futures...

More on this Twilight Saga to come...

2008-12-07T09:48:00.000-08:00

Yes I am back again...I got married--Weird huh?

I saw the horrible events of this Black Friday 2008 and was again sickened at the degradation of our society. Masses at a New York WalMart trample a man to death and seriously injure a pregnant woman so I repeat my message from a couple of years ago...

Then I saw something too horrible. The day after Thanksgiving is commonly known as "Black Friday" the biggest shopping day of the year. I avoid all stores on this day. Words cannot convey to you how I feel about this particular day of hyper sales and secularism for a season meant for "Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men".

Returning to my story...I awoke with all convictions in tact and ready to avoid all stores. As I was getting ready for the day and going through my morning routine (which includes watching CNN,BBC World News and a little CSPAN) when the first camera images of Black Friday unfolded. Scenes of men, women and children being beaten, trampled and mauled! All in the name of the latest toy orXBOX! I literally had to rewind the TV to make sure that I wasn't watching some third world country fighting for freedom from oppression. Unfortunately, I was not.

When did "stuff" or mere possessions become more important to us than humanity? The images of Black Friday's pushing and trampling reminded me of images from a documentary I saw on Rwanda called, Shake Hands With The Devil: The Journey of Romeo Dallaire. 'This documentary follows Canadian Lt.-General (ret.) Romeo Dallaire as he relives the horrific events that unfolded while he commanded the United Nations peacekeeping mission (1994) in Rwanda where more than 800,000 men, women and children were brutally murdered'. Do any of you remember 1994? Maybe you remember the "OJ Trial"; it aired simultaneously while genocide raged in Rwanda. Horrible isn't it? (And lest you think I live in a glass house...) I am ashamed to say that I vaguely remember something about Rwanda but could never imagine the horror I saw in this film. Yes, like many of you, I remember more of OJ's court proceedings than of any world events in 1994. The tragic rub is that this kind of genocide is happening again..Inn Darfur.

Here in America, many of us believe that if this kind of a tragedy would never happen here. But, you know what? It is. When we put the love of things before the love of our fellow men we are killing our souls. The genocide of our souls! It makes us numb to those things that are truly important. We don't need things to make us happy. Please try something new for yourselves this year. Don't buy gifts for your friends and family at Christmas, Channukah, Kwanza, or whatever holiday you are planning to celebrate. Instead make a charitable contribution to www.savedarfur.org in the name of the person you wish to gift; or if you feel you must buy a gift for someone then buy RED this year and find out how at www.joinred.com/red.asp ; volunteer at a soup kitchen, a women's shelter, or a veteran's hospital. Just do something!Do it unconditionally and you will change someone's life. You will also give yourself and your children the greatest gift ever known--service. Service to your fellow man will lighten any burden you may have. It is paying it forward and everyone needs that.

Still doubt me?

Many people say, "such and such change my life!" I never quite understood what they meant until I saw this film. It changed the way I think, hear and see all life. Please watch it and don't just gift this year, "gift" back. A very wise man once said, "that those who seek they're lives shall lose them, but those who lose their lives, for my sake, shall find them". Lose your life in service to your fellow men this season and find out who you really are!

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays to all of God's children!

2006-10-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

Opening Day/Night

It is always rewarding to see your work come to life. From page to stage, the costumes have breathed life into the actor's characters. It is rewarding but exhausting. I always feel as though I have just been struck by a train on opening day. It doesn't matter if the show is slightly behind and we are scrambling with the details on the costumes or we are casually cleaning the costume shop, I will always be exhausted.

I am not going to say that the show hasn't had its hitches. For the most part, these hitches haven't been on the part of the costumes. The Grapes of Wrath is a dark show--I MEAN DARK. Not the writing but the lights. Our lighting designer was a student and it was his first design. New designers, any designer--me as well, will always go whole hog and create some visually artistic crap and justify our choices with self serving bull----. (A friend of mine calls it mental masturbation. A disturbing phrase but it gets the point across.) This may or may not be our intent but it can get in the way of the story itself. When that happens, look out because those newbies will fight tooth and nail to preserve their work. The fight is a noble one but often times the greater good is overlooked: Making the audience believe.

So our first dress rolls around and I am fairly confident in what we have done. I know there will be more to do but you can always add costume elements in but you can not always remove them. The lights came up and I couldn't see a single bit of distressing on the costumes let alone see the actors' faces. "This", I say to myself, "is bad." And so more distressing goes on for the second dress rehearsal. Who knew that Vaseline could make sweat stains more believable? Now this dress rehearsal goes well with one exception--The set contains a 45 degree rake! Not only a rake but one the actors are blocked to walk up after "dippin" in the river. Yes, real water. One actor falls, then another and finally someone else slips. I am beyond freaking out. The director is not calling a "HOLD" and neither is the stage manager. I vocalize, rather loudly, that we need to stop but either no one heard me or I was being ignored. We as designers, directors and crew need to make sure that the actors are always kept safe. So much rides on these actors.They stand at a unique precipice where they invite the audience in and ask them to believe in the magic that has been created by a handfull of designers and technicians. Truly, the success of a show is won or lost by how the audience reacts to them. If one of them is hurt during a performance, it can ultimately hurt the show. It not only takes the audience out of the world that was created by reminding them they are in a theatre but the actor may have to be replaced. When that happens it changes the entire dynamic of the play because different actors act and react in very different ways. It is essentially a different show.

I have come to accept over the years that there can be NO riff between actors and technicians. Everyone's job is dependent on the other's--we must always have the same goals and do it safely. Yes, there are some actors who are more demanding backstage than others but their job takes them to a very vulnerable place and they trust that everything is safe--even if it may not be.

Final dress was better. A little paint on the costumes because the poor set designer doesn't have enough help to complete what he would like to do in the amount of time he would like to accomplish it. And so the paint wasn't sealed and it got on the costumes--a few I could care less about but one wound up with a creative dirt mark I hope the adjudicator will think is brilliant.

It is done and it doesn't belong to me anymore. It is theirs...and yours...and eventually, it will be a memory. For me the memory begins tomorrow at 5 a.m. when I head to the airport.

--mlh

2006-09-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

Technicolor Psyche

Well, apparently I failed to tell you what I do. (Actually, a certain someone needs to read the blog title and its subtitle!)Further explanation to follow...

I am a costume designer. I research, design, create, and construct the costumes, makeup and accessories for whatever a character might have, need, or wear. I like what I do but a recent addiction to Project Runway makes me want to design clothes and maybe open a boutique. I could do it................Anyway, I am currently in Georgia designing costumes for a production of The Grapes of Wrath. I forgot just how depressing it was. The show not designing it.

New topic...At the risk of sounding like so many "romantic comedies" I hate I have found this whole dating, internet dating, blind dating and the like to be rather bland. We as beings on this planet can find or obtain nearly 90% of what we seek given we are willing to work hard enough for it (Or just remember where we put the yellow pages). Then why is it that love, true love or even a meaningful conversation over Subway is the one thing we cannot seem to obtain when we want and need it the most? (at this point I'd take an interesting companionship that was devoid of me filing a restraining order) Why can't we hurry love? Why do the fates, God, nature or whatever your persuasion insist that when it comes to love they must be the ones in charge? And if this is true then how can we be the masters of our own destiny when Diety has plans for our hearts?

So, I am a member of one of those internet dating sites that is supposed to be "different". A dating site for people of a certain religion and like mindedness. Alright, I was optimistic when I joined over 4 years ago, but really if I get one more email about the latest success story I will vomit on my shoe and sell it on ebay as an art sculpture. Success story! Hah, the only success I think that they've had is in getting away with recycling the same couple's picture through the clever use of PhotoShop.

I'm not, in my opinion--and since you're reading this you are subject it, delusional about what I want. Short, fat, thin, bald. These things are really secondary on my list of requirements. The most important thing for me in a relationship is "Do they make me feel good about myself?"and "Am I doing the same thing for them?" I don't want a mutual admiration society but a relationship that is positively building a firm foundation for a successful relationship to continually stand on , survive the firestorm that is sometimes our world and a sanctuary for us and anyone living in our home, but apparently that is to much to ask at this point.

Viva Snoopy!

2006-09-19T19:41:00.000-07:00

Hi! Thank you for visiting. Here are a few interesting facts about me...a small update to the job situation. I was a Professor at a university in Michigan. I have since left that position to concentrate more fully on what I want out of my life...more info later. However, there's still no one special in my life...despite the rumors of me carrying on a "torrid affair" withsomeone back in Michigan. You gotta love the rumor mill. They're productive. Anyway, I am taking a break from teaching college. Maybe I'll find another position at the university level during this break. I have a...well, I'd guess you'd say it is a motto that I live by: Please don't be afraid to get your hands dirty, life may require it of you. Meaning, if you happen to get a flat tire on the road of life just ease off to the shoulder and change it. You'll soon be back out there driving again.

A little more about me... I am random at constant intervals :) I'm a funny, animated, action-adventure, historically, romantic movie watcher with a dash of the KUNG FU thrown in for good measure. I am slightly afraid of water--a few scary ocean events has made me the wiser... chicken--but I'd love to watch my friends surf, swim, body-board, etc. And who knows I might get out there again! Games requiring the use of basketballs or baseballs will usually require me to visit the E.R., but you can laugh at my black eye because I will. If you don't believe me ask the professor of scenic design at the University of Montana. He can tell you a great story about a girl in right field who literally got a taste for softball! Camping's Good--I was the best camper at Girls camp 4 yrs running. Unfortunately, I can not play an instrument, but I can run a CD player with good Cd's! Where's the outlet? I can change my own tire and know the location of the service station for the rest of the car's needs. I am fairly independent with strong shoulders for others to lean on, weep into, or rest their babies upon. Basically, that's me.

for my duckie friends...

So a duck walks into a diner and asks the waitress for some green grapes. The waitress says,"We don't have any green grapes. Now get outta here before I call animal control!" A few days later the duck comes back, sits himself up to the counter and asks the waitress for some green grapes. She says, "Look, duck, all we serve is greasy burgers, cold shakes, and hot fries. We don't have any green grapes! Now get before I nail your bill to the floor!" Two weeks go by and the duck comes back to the diner, sits himself up to the counter and asks the waitress, "Ma'am, do you have any nails?" To which the waitress replies, "No." And the duck says,"Good! I'll have some green grapes!" Smile & Have a good day!