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

“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...

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...

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...

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...

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

When we are afraid, we rationalize.

Today is 3/15/12...This is a post that I began while teaching at (insert former job name here)...I am so glad to be free of that job!


This is from 2 years ago...

I'm in a bad situation. Certain circumstances in my life are not exactly ideal, so needless to say there are reasons that I need to be where I am in my life but also the fear of doing what I should, want and know to be true keeps me in the less than ideal light.

There are days when it's not so bad. When these circumstances are more tolerable and those are the days that I rationalize, "Look, it's getting better. There's no need to change what I'm doing. It'll be fine." I catch my reflection smiling back at me in the mirror as I put on a happy face to start my day. But yesterday...yesterday was different. As I smiled to myself while silently trying to convince myself to go on in this manner, a memory flashed through my mind. It was a movie clip of George Bailey shaking hands with Mr. Potter over the 'new job' Mr. Potter offered Bailey in return for leaving the Bailey Building and Loan. As George releases his hand from Mr. Potter's, a look of self disgust washes over George. He can't do this! It's wrong. Mr. Potter is an awful man and he has just agreed to think over his proposal--a proposal schemed by a devil of a man. George retracts all his agreements


You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your money. Well it doesn't, Mr. Potter. In the whole vast configuration of things I'd say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider.

It's A Wonderful Life

Skip to 2:19. The scene begins there and ends around 7:26.

My "God Ray" Morning

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

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

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...

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....

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

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

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

Paparazzi and Crazy Fans

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

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

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

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

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

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