from the minds of mjam and babrams.

another shameless plug.



on a happier note, I just bought a week's worth of yogurt parfaits and vitaminENERGY drinks. now, I'm going to take a three hour nap to make myself more nocturnal so I don't drop anymore hammers on my toe or talk with the writers about my themed socks. I'm sorry, my mismatched themed socks.

latenite, oh what a great night.

after a week of blowing up dinosaurs (met with a delightful amount of comments a la "you're not even going to let him buy you dinner first?) and putting out fires (but wait! no fires in the black box!), we were able to put up an actual real live latenite. I'm so proud of everyone's hard work. also, my night ended with me sharing and sipping a tiny bottle of jameson poured over ice in the back of 1020. stupendous. god bless you, latenite.

goodbye, blue monday.

laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I got a summer internship at second stage. yes. yes.


(farewell, kv, you shall be missed).



so it goes.

(also, be a dear and go buy your tickets to the varsity show. they will sell out, and I shall be ever so sad if you miss out.)

update from my (varsi-)life.

okay. I don't know if ambitious can be used as a euphemism, but when I describe my current state of life to my friends, family, etc. the only word they seem to come up with is "ambitious," as in "my my my, young erin, how ambitious are we?" do they mean "crazy" "insane" "ludicrous"? I am none of these things. I am never bored. how bad can that possibly be?

also, I find it interesting that every time I say "yea, I've been really busy; sorry I haven't had time to call you back/meet with you for coffee/send you that Columbia sweatshirt you asked for in january (and my grandmother was surprisingly nice about that)" people automatically respond with "yea, varsity show will do that to you." ironically (paradoxically?), though varsity show has taken up nearly 113% of my time, it hasn't stressed me out. at all. I have never felt so on top of my shit as I have this semester. maybe because I'm standing on a high wire above a tank filled with sharks with lasers a-top their heads. who knew that acrobatics could be so much fun.


I celebrated my twentieth birthday a week ago with "byrne's boozy brunch birthday: an alliteration celebration." I must say that one very long complicated train ride + 22 of my favorite people in the universe + unlimited mimosas + delicious delicious food that I was, incidentally, too drunk to eat = a very happy erin and a very happy birthday. though the seating arrangement was not very conducive to cohesive collaborative group conversation (oh my alliteration-themed birthday), I very much enjoyed the company, and I really didn't think it was possible to trump last year's 18-pitchers-of-sangria-at-symposium-bash, my inebriation before 1PM and my drunken state at columbia club rehearsal definitely put it over the top. although, I probably could have done without the hangover at 7PM.

we're entering into the home stretch. these were the four weeks that I was both looking forward to and fearing the most, and now that they're almost here (!!), I cannot seem to wrap my mind around their looming presence. I'm approaching the end of a) 113 - one of the most valuable rewarding and amazingly amazing experiences of my young life and b) the school year - bringing with it the loss of some of the most amazing people I have met and grown/learned to love. fair enough - I can't really call their graduating a "loss" because most are staying within a 50 block radius. however, with their "absence" (better word choice), I'm becoming more and more aware of the fact that I have almost finished two years of college. half done. halfway to real life. gulp!!

on a happier note - I celebrated easter by eating meat for the first time in nearly four months. stomach ache and bloating aside? totally worth it. back to water and exlax before vshow.

who's better than you? short list.

how many meta-themed posts can I create in a row? let's see.
meta weekend:
meta-satire musical (zanna don't!)
meta party (v.s. - though I don't remember it. does that count?)
meta moments contemplating how one would dress as varsity show to a varsity show themed party where you are supposed to dress as something else entirely with the initals v.s. - the initials of the varsity show.

this was a pointless post. and that was my intention. back to reading a book with john travolta on the cover. that's right. it's my lab science requirement.


spring is here here here. blessed baby jesus.

I'm Meta for Midterms

There is something about writing midterms papers that is so profoundly paradoxical that my brain almost implodes when I try and wrap my mind around it. On the one hand, my ability to write a good (meh) five-page paper in less than two hours will never cease to amaze me. It's like type-a, type-a, type-a (if you just got that Simpson's reference, I love you), and all of a sudden, I have three-and-a-half pages on visionary imagination in "I Wandered lonely as a cloud." However, I also want to jump out of one of the teeny-tiny Barnard library windows as I complete my concluding paragraph on the transcendent power of poetry and the "inward eye." Who am I? Who the fuck AM I?

Self-deprecation. Such is the life of an English major. As I sit. Drinking my tea. With a copy of "Washington Square."

...DAMMIT.

Time, Why Do You Punish Me?

(I hope the fact that I just quoted Hootie and the Blowfish is an understated indication that I may or may not be delusional and/or insane.

But, it's fine. It's fine.)

The two weeks before Spring Break are always awful. You think, "Holey Moley! (obscure V113 reference)" and "Gee whiz! Soon I'll be sipping pina coladas and getting caught in the rain on some island off the coast of utopia."

But wait!

PAPERS
MIDTERMS
BARTENDING EXAMS
SPONTANEOUS FAINTING SPELLS
RANDOM HOSPITALIZATIONS
SUMMER INTERNSHIP APPLICATIONS
TURKEY DAY

So while you're dreaming of that tan that will last for a mere two or three days once you return to the desolate, fickle, cock-tease weather of NYC, you forget that you have 300 pages of reading due for a 10 person class you have tomorrow, or that you have to write a book. On amoebas. Are you even a science major? You're a theater major? I didn't even know I was ENROLLED in this class. Fortunately, the universe has been super kind to me this semester, and I only have one midterm (Cake. French cake.) a final draft of a paper, and another 4-5 page paper due at the end of the week.

And praise to the Heavenly Lord of Hosts that I HAVE TWO FULL WEEKS WITHOUT A GLIMMER OF REHEARSAL. Here's to Varsity-Show-Free thoughts. (Pffft, as if that will ever happen.) In the words of Mark Junek, I get to "be a real life person."

Here's to living for the weekend. Goodbye, February 26-March 4. You have made me a better, more sleep-deprived person.

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

No, I'm not talking about Christmas. I'm talking about CU-fucking-PAL Showcase--my favorite night of the year. Granted, I have only been to two, but any night where I start pre-pre-pre-pre-gaming at dress rehearsal, get to put on a slutty slutty dress, have my own bottle of free champagne, have a dance party on the stage, get kicked out of Roone by CU Security, have an awesome time at Mona for 3 hours, and come home to tater tots can't hardly be topped by a holiday with some fat diabetic guy with iPods.

I am so so so so so glad that TTB made it into the senior song. I know we didn't get to have a "real" show (which is why weren't allowed to perform in the first place), but the recognition was enough for me. Plus, how can you not have a sense of humor about a song that talks about how awesomely gay theatre is.

Our first Varsity Show number was really really really well received. And I'm going to type the words I've been waiting an entire month to type:

I WANNA BE AMERICAN JESUS
I WANNA BE MANIFEST DESTINY
I WANNA MAKE HARD LOVE TO YOU
ON THE FIFTY YARD LINE OF HEAVEN
THE MEANING OF LIFE IS NOT TO SCREW UP TOO BAAAAAAD
-LY...

Totally brill.

Oh crap I have to go read. I figured out that I would probably be getting 12 credits if I translated 113 time into class time. I might be insane.

Bring it, Spring 2007. And Something About Enchiladas.

It's one thing to start a new semester with the anticipation of auditions, casting, and getting (or not getting) the right for a new show. It's a whole 'nother enchilada (I don't know) to already be in the throws of one. Granted, it's different and exciting to already have your shit together, and have a "kind of" grasp on what's going on (although V-Show is another beast altogether ... enchilada?), but I've lost that first "shopping" period week where I can kind of get into my groove (spanish groove? salsa? more enchiladas?) and evaluate classes, etc., before jumping into everything (or in my case, setting up camp on Lerner 5).

Classes are all good so far -- I'm already not paying attention in Environmental Science, preoccupied with my colored pencil options for the semester: Crayola or RoseArt? 12-pack or 24-pack? Do a get a fun sharpener? What am I having for lunch today? Is Joey sexually frustrated with Dawson, and does she secretly want to have a threesome with Andy and Jen?

American Fiction (aka AmFic - a title which was immediately, and rightfully, vetoed by the entire suite) is awesome so far. The English major nerd inside of me gets impossibly giddy when looking at the syllabus. (Are you judging me right now? Is it the Dawson's Creek reference? Because I know there is a nerd inside you, too. Come on. People in glass houses...)

Upcoming highlight - we're starting LateNite very very soon. With new people on the E-Board and a fresh anthology, it's sure to be an amazing semester. Especially since we have so many valuable seniors graduating. Looking forward to drunken performances and some damn good (and kinda good) original student theatre. It really is what life's all about.

Back to reading. Another thing about the first week of the semester - take a picture because this is probably the only time the entire semester where I will actually do all of my reading and do it on time. I'm taking this opportunity to also ignore the fact that almost all of my papers are due in the last two weeks of April. Let's just pretend that is not going to happen.

The Blog About Nothing

Behold the "Seinfeld" blog.

- - -

I really enjoy long brunches. My friend Katie and I were musing about the glories of this pseudo-meal over quiche and creme-brulee at our favorite hipster Silverlake eatery, Dusty's. Brunch is the perfect meal. You can sleep in and enjoy the most important meal of the day. It's a wonder that a thing so great hasn't been exploited by the government as cancer-causing. Or as depraved as marrying your first cousin.

- - -

I saw Children of Men yesterday. It's the first movie in a long time that caused me to wait until the end of the credits because I had yet had the opportunity to fully collect myself. It's a wonderful film.

- - -

I immediately bought shoes post-film to ease my worried head.

- - -

Well, my mom bought them.

- - -

Tomorrow is my first day as a PA. Oh, the joys of paying dues. I'm looking forward to a week's worth of lugging FBI-uniforms all over the tri-county area, and making returns all-the-live-long-day. Here's hoping that Ron Livingston will see me hard at work (cap on head, pen in hand), stop me in my tracks and either say "Holy Moses! This is the best PA I've ever seen! Some one give her an executive salary and position" or "Wow. I have never seen a more attractive woman in a black baseball hat and jeans. Will you marry me?"

- - -

This will hereby be known as the "Delusional" blog.

- - -

...

- - -

I go home January 14. This is the first time I've ever referred to New York as "home." It has a nice ring to it.

PhotoBlog: The Magic of Christmas

In the spirit of Christmas (And my burgeoning insanity spurred on by the reality that, for the next two weeks/eternity, I am trapped in my Los Angeles home), here are some holiday photos for you to enjoy. Normally, I would share these precious moments with you via Yahoo! Photos (Since I refuse to put them on Facebook. Some things are sacred.), but I am befuddled by the new layout. I am saving you a stress migraine.


Behold our glorious Christmas tree. The fire is roaring; the stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Someone kill me. It's 75 degrees outside.


I present to you, Dr. George Thannisch, in all his glory. This retired pediatrician and aspiring blueberry wine-maker will tempt you with his vine-grown confection, but I advise you to run, run away!! Save yourself from the worst thirty seconds of your life while the acidic fluid flows down your throat on its way to play with your insides. (Note: I am not ignoring the impressive bounty of Santa figurines. I hope they speak for themselves.)


The Thannisch Men. I have nothing witty to say. I just like this picture.


This is my step-dad, Tim. My Uncle John built a "game room" in his backyard over the summer. I stand by my belief that he only built it to house his hunting trophies and taxidermied animals. Oh, that's right. It's a hobby.



Taxidermied turkey in-flight. It's all about presentation. Right?


My mom and her brothers.


Oh. Sweet. Moses.


Mom's proud of her roots.


When I took this picture, my mom said, "Make sure you get the lightbulb and the toothpaste in the shot."


Uncle John making his famous beer batter biscuits. Paula would be proud. I think they contain both butter and lard.


Genius?


They stay up at the Eason cabin watching Andy Griffith and shooting squirrels with cross-bows.


Two words: Trout beer-cozy.


Grandparents. Mom. Me.

Lufkin, Texas truly is the land of dreams. And if your dreams die hard, I will give you my uncle's number and he will taxidermy them for you.

Here Comes The Sun

Only hours away from my final exam of the semester, a JetBlue flight leaving promptly at 6:45AM Wednesday morning (Complete with five glorious hours of Food Network and old Project Runway marathons), and the stress-free delights of winter season, I am swamped by the daunting tasks that lie ahead within the next, extremely short, twenty seven hours. Not even taking into account the fact that my Econ independent study adviser has ignored my last four emails (Don't even tell me you don't check your email at least twice a day, Professor Dye, not everyone fully understands the concept of inflation), I am about to take the most erudite final on the history of the planet (Including seven [7!!] ID essays, and the most vague final essay question on the plant -- What is Modernism?. Gee, I don't know, MV, YOU TELL ME!!), do all of my holiday shopping, say all my good-byes, and pack to return to my hell away from home, sunny Los Angeles, where an 80 degree not-so-white Christmas surely awaits. There was a time when I looked forward to December 25. A time when I didn't have to think about a billion things at once (No exaggeration) right before I opened my very last advent calender window, revealing the pseudo-stale, not so great chocolate-y treat.

Pardon the convoluted sentence structure. I just spent the last seven hours reading up on Woolf, Barnes, and Faulkner. My brain is a puddle.

However, I am inches away from three weeks of vacation bliss, where I will be snuggled under covers day in and day out enjoying (Gasp!) recreational reading and some mulled cider. I will also be ignoring my urge to check my grades every three seconds. Because Lord knows, this semester was a wash, leaving my GPA in the woods for dead.

If you're in the Los Angeles area, give me a ring. Remind me that the sun is shining outside (To my dismay). I'll be back in New York January 14, and believe me, my next chaotic semester couldn't come quickly enough, despite the fact that the proportional relationship between my stress/overcommittedness and sleep (More of the former, less of the latter, of course) is sure to skyrocket to epic, outer-worldly levels. Looking forward to the insanity.

The Luckiest

Wait, there's an actually holiday that celebrates eating an exorbitant amount of delicious food, AND everyone has to stop their bitching and complaining for an entire 24-hour period? Can you believe it!?

In the spirit of bwog, here are some things I am thankful for:

plimpton 11B
the girls from my floor last year
ben folds
my never ending supply of starbuck's markouts
when the lerner elevator is there when you call it
thursdays
fridays
saturdays
sunday rehearsals
the freezer section at appletree
feeling smart in my poetics class
original student theatre that doesn't require rights
new friends
7/10
food network
the latenite 11PM saturday show
cast bonding
impromptu dance parties
eating pancakes at tom's while sober
juniors (for not graduating yet)
my seniors
v113

Nothing to really complain about. My parents are paying for me to live in Manhattan with some of my best friends, and I don't have to work. I just go to school, go to rehearsal, and party to my heart's content. I'm so fucking lucky.

Gobble, gobble. Happy Thanksgiving.

I (Can't Commit To A Real Emotion) You

My always brilliant Poetics professor said something so intriguing to our class on Monday that I will be stopping the progress on my looming ten page Modernism paper (wait, progress? I meant procrastination. Whatever, those words share a lot of the same letters) to ponder it further.

The word "like" is a horrible word. It lacks commitment. It lacks transformation. I hate similes. They pervade bad poetry, and they don't create a concrete comparison because the author is unwilling to say that you are the sun to his heliocentric universe, only that you may or may not perhaps kinda resemble the sun to his heliocentric universe.

"I like you."

What does that even mean? Sure, it carries with it a positive connotation, but what else? I prefer you? I have interest in you? I hold some type of feeling that I'm unwilling to accept and therefore will not voice it for you? We have become so attached to this word "like" that we use it as a space filler, unable to trust our own word choice enough to eliminate it. We're so careful about what we say to other people that we can't even give them definitive accounts of what we ate for breakfast. (I, like, was too busy cramming for my French exam to even eat a, like, bagel.)

Okay. So. "I like you." It's more than scary to think about the other ways this sentiment can be expressed. "I love you." Too much commitment. "I care for you" Too maternal. "I lust for you." ...Probably the most accurate, but that can almost be just as bad.

"I'm interested in you. We should get to know each other better." We've become so attached to this word "like" and our "games" and we can't even commit to a sentence as simple as this. We are so scared of the complete vulnerability and transformation that occurs with the elimination of the word "like" that we would sooner live in the silence of our interest/love/lust than put that kind of commited statement out on the table.

Better to pine than commit to a real emotion.

I Do Everything

The rumors are true.

I got varsity.

!!

Fall Break My Spirit

(exhale)

Well, October, you were not my friend. Midterms, Melodrama, My Show Not Getting Rights...

You sucked.

But, lately, I've been looking on the bright side and balancing the whole thing. Producing TTB/Two Weeks was the best decision I have ever made, and one of the best college experiences I have had thus far. I have met some incredible people. I have never laughed or cried or partied as hard as I have these past two months. I am genuinely thankful that I had this opportunity.

That said, I'm looking forward to not working with MTI for a while.

Enter Varsity Show!

I'm interviewing for the Assistant Producer position in the next couple weeks. For whatever reason, I am so completely invested with the idea of being a part of 113. We can ignore the fact that I will also be producing LateNite more or less by myself, and that I will in all likelihood be on the NSOP 2007 Committee. And taking a full courseload. And figuring out how I'm studying abroad Spring 2008.

This weekend is Fall Break. I had every intention of spending every waking moment in Avery among the horribly pretentious Columbia grad students, but I went to Connecticut on a whim instead. Which resulted in one my favorite college memories. I can't think of a better group of people to spend time with. I really needed the time off, and I'm ready to face the rest of the semester (more or less) mentally intact.

It's hard to believe that Thanksgiving is already two weeks away. I'm already discussing Spring Break plans (cross-country road trip in a Winnebago). There's so much to look forward to. Including pit tickets to Death Cab and Ted Leo on Wednesday.

And for the first time in quite a while, I can say that I'm happy to be where I'm at. That's a good thing.

Positive Tension

"Erin, I'm not being negative. I'm not a pessimist - I'm a realist."

I like my glass half-full. Although I have the occasional bad day (or month) or a freakout, or two (or seventy), I fully subscribe to the notion that positive thinking leads to positive actions. If I honestly believe that I'm going to have a good day, I have a good day - it's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Never underestimate the power of positive thinking. Or negative thinking, for that matter. I mean, you wouldn't walk down the aisle to marry the man of your dreams all the while thinking, "This is going to end in divorce," would you?

Doors get shut. People say, "No." But I have faith in my ability as a solution-oriented to utilize my time for productivity, rather than moping around, eating a melty pint of Ben and Jerry's goodness. I try to surround myself with positive thinking people in order to reinforce my philosophy of persistent positivity.. However, lately, I have been hard-pressed to find people that aren't gaping into their half-empty glasses.

In theory, Columbia should be filled with bright, young, eager minds, willing to share the positive ideas and dreams with their fellow classmates, looking forward into the horizon of opportunity (yuck). In reality, you find the most competitive, whiny, self-absorbed, negative, under-caffeinated, overcommitted people you will ever encounter in your natural life. There is no room for positive thinking. There is only room for self-doubt, self-loathing, and the oh so popular Columbia favorite, self-deprecation. But when I ask, why so negative, I get the blanket response, "Silly, naive Erin, I'm a realist."

Since when does being a pessimist make you a realist? I consider myself a realist, but not if that means I have to be negative. I find it particularly unrealistic to think that things will inevitably end badly. I'm no cock-eyed optimist (in fact, I have very little in common with Ado Annie), but I can't understand how someone can walk through life sweating the small stuff (and it's all small stuff).

So, in conclusion, if you're finding your glass less than full, have some of mine, and try to think positively. It's brighter over here.

Background Noise

I remember when academics used to be the sun to my solar system; the wind to my sails; the fuel to my engine. These hyperbolic cliches are only necessary because, in high school, academics were my reason for everything. Because my one goal in life was getting into a great college, I allowed grades and tests and workbook pages to drive my motivation vehicle. However, it never occurred to me what would happen to my relationship with academia post-high school. Would I continue to study into the night and push friends aside to cram for an AP Calc exam? Would I actually need anti-derivative skills for my goals in life? And what were those subsequent goals that would supposedly lead to the best years of my life?

School has become the background noise to my life. Sure, I gave it the first two weeks so I could figure out how to balance my workload and buy all my books and gather my "good intentions," but, honestly, school is in no way my college focus. Perplexing, no?

Don't be mistaken. I do all my work, I'm not a slacker. If you've ever met me, you know that I have a tendency to stress about the fact that even though I took AP Calc in high school, I can't really do conversions or eighth grade math and will therefore stare at my obnoxiously yellow packet for three hours while holding a protractor, doing my Environmental Science lab homework and wondering which way is up (er, for example...).

I am finally making the transition from high school. I thought I would always be just "the overachiever." I never really thought about it last year as a freshman, but all my extracurricular overcommitments, my friends, my nights out -- those are the things that keep me going. It's not about getting a 4.0 and getting into an Ivy League school. I mean, what's after this? Real life, right? These things keep me going because those are the things that bring me joy, not my TI83.

College is teaching me to the think like a grown-up. Weird.

Weekend Update

You may be wondering where I wandered off to. Between classes and being a first-time producer and partying (a lot) I haven't had very much time to think, much less blog. So let's see if I can make sense of the past ten days or so, and you will all see that although I may have gone crazy, I have not yet fallen off the edge of the earth.

a. I may be taking 19 credits again this semester. I'm starting to think that if I don't have an exorbitant amount of reading to do that I think I don't have any work at all. (ie, I'm a masochist).

b. We finally cast our show. I am so utterly thrilled about our team now I want to squeal with delight.

c. Auditions were the nightmare I imagined them to be. We had twenty people audition the first night and sixty the second night. Callbacks were a breeze though, the people we cast might as well have been wearing signs with their roles around their necks when they walked in. Again, I want to squeal with delight.

d. I'm thrilled that I'm producing a show. It combines everything I love about creative vision and anal retentive organization. It might be my calling.

e. Although, I could go without the nightmares where the Lerner website Event Management System turns into a fire-breathing monster and tries to eat me in my sleep and I wake up realizing that I haven't slept in the past three days, and that I've just been hallucinating.

f. I completely forgot that for the Trust Entrepreneurial Internship Program I'm in, I have to set up an independent study with a sociology/women's studies professor so I can write a thesis this semester. Crap? I have to do this by Friday. Crap? Oh, shit?

g. There is a boy situation happening right now that is so grossly complicated I can't even convey to you the stress it is bringing to my life. Why, oh God, why? Don't you know that I'm taking 19 credits and trying to fight off imaginary space request monsters?

That's pretty much it.

Oh. and h. After not having a hangover from our first cast-bonding party last night, I'm pretty sure I'm incapable of getting one. This is a good thing.

Happiness is...

...sitting with eight of your favorite people at the Abbey Pub while singing Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" into bottles of Magic Hat #9 at 1:00AM.