Ok, I’ve been bad about blogging as of late. But don’t blame me, blame the nasty cold and sinus infection I’ve been battling the past week. Blegh. All sympathy cards will be accepted…

So, this isn’t going to be so much a blog but a shameless plug for an upcoming charity event held by the IRC (International Rescue Committee). I’ve recently started volunteering for the agency and will be both volunteering and attending the event.

"ARTVOCACY"

ADVOCACY THROUGH ART

A gallery showcase and auction of art based on refugee themes plus internationally themed craft tables and raffle drawing

MARCH 10TH, 2006

6:30-9:30 PM

LATINO CULTURAL CENTER

2600 Live Oak, Dallas, TX 75204

Adults: $20 Students/Refugees: $10

www.theirc.org/dallas

To purchase tickets or sponsor a refugee ticket, contact Amy O’Connor 214-461-9781 x17

I’ve already had a peek at some of the submitted artwork and it’s fabulous.

The piece entitled "End Begin," by artist Chet Phillips was orginally created for the series "The Life of an Imaginary Friend" represents both a beginning and end moment. As with the seasons, humans experience cycles in life that leave behind aspects of existence and experience to be replaced with a new chapter.

"Refugees" by Robb Greenhoe was inspired by friendships with people who came to the United States from Africa, and from personal dealings with the bureacracy, negligence, apathy and corruption so engrained in some African government offices. The inspiration for this image came from a photograph of African refugees, walking through a ravaged homeland during a dust storm. Visual references to ethnicity, location and gender etc. were removed to make the piece more representative of the plight of all refugees around the world.

Don’t forget that as well as the art there will also be a raffle. I personally know that the raffle prizes are going to be great; I got a few donated myself, so I don’t mind sharing what you could potentially win:

-2 tickets to see Ira Glass, radio producer for This American Life, speak at the Majestic Theater on April 2nd (look for shameless plug for that event coming soon!)

-4 tickets to a Dallas Symphony performance

-4 tickets to visit Dallas Heritage Village at Old City Park

-1 night stay at an upscale bed and breakfast

-SMU football tickets

-$25 gift certificate to Paciugo’s

-$25 gift certificate to CD Source

For those of you who are spur of the moment planners you can buy your ticket at the door. And for those of you who are far away and can’t attend you can still make a donation to the organization. Just check out their website or contact Amy at IRC. I would love to see all of you there supporting a great cause!

Normally my schedule goes through spurts of time in which I have a lot of activities and I start thinking, ‘Wow. I really am fun and outgoing. People do like hanging out with me!’ But alas, my schedule will then slow down to the dull pace of a turtle and I will realize that in fact, this is my life. Case in point, last week’s post lamenting my lack of a life.

This was one of my active weeks. Lately, I’ve been volunteering, so at least one evening a week I’ve been participating in planning sessions for an upcoming fundraiser. Also, as of late, I am verging on semi-cultured. No beer bongs and frat houses for me- I’ve been going to the Symphony. (That would seem more cultured if you didn’t already know that I get free tickets). This week the Symphony had a special performance of Star Wars in which they played musical excerpts from all of the movies. I personally have not seen all six Star Wars films but figured I couldn’t miss out on watching Star Wars fans, most comfortable camping out in front of a theater for 6 weeks to see a film, infiltrate the Symphony “culture”. I’m glad I went.

The fans were out in mass. There were Storm Troopers, Darth Vaders, and Princess Leias everywhere the eye could see. Albeit most of those who came in costume were between the ages of 3-10, though there were a couple of die-hard adult fans in costume.

So my friends and I find our seats and are resting comfortably until we hear a little boy behind us stand on his seat and scream “Sit down, sit down, sit down!” to a family that came in as the lights were starting to dim. We turned and looked at each other thinking ‘Ok, what a cute kid, looking forward to the show. His parents will contain him during the show.’ It was not to be so. The hellion of a child was sitting with three other hellions, which we could only assume were his siblings, while their parents sat in the row behind them. They proceeded to talk through the entire show. The evening was marred by images dancing through my head of me turning around, ripping one of their shoes off and beating them with it until not a peep came from any of them. [Insert witty sarcastic voice here- I don’t really support child abuse]. And I was containing myself from approaching the parents after the show and saying, “Thank you for producing 4 poster children for Birth Control. If only we had laws that allowed us to sterilize unfit parents.” [Ok, that comment verges on the brink of Republicanism, but I was at the Symphony, a haven for conservatives- it must have rubbed off].

The show itself was fabulous; the British actor, Anthony Daniels, otherwise known as C3P0 (not R2D2- he was not a midget!) narrated the show. He came on stage wearing a fabulous sparkly gold jacket to which I heard my friends making plans to jump him after the show and nab his jacket (we’re a weird bunch; instigate a brawl with 4 kids and then race backstage to mug an actor for his shiny, shiny jacket).

My second Symphony outing was initiated from a work commitment. I found myself working Saturday night so I decided to go ahead and attend the Pops Concert. I thought to myself, ‘Look at me, a self-assured woman going to a Symphony concert alone.’ Yeah. Not such a good idea when the concert is called Valentine Love Songs and the conductor keeps reading lame poems for Valentine’s Day. Rather than self-empowerment I felt more judged by those around me thinking, ‘Oh, look at the poor, dateless girl’ and offering up small smiles of pity. The show, itself, was an interesting mix of musical choices; somehow, the conductor considered “Buckaroo Holiday” to be a love song whereas it just reminded me of the 80’s commercial, “Beef. It’s what’s for Dinner.”

And tonight, I’m going to see the play, Urinetown. I’m a fan of musicals and satirical comedy so the premise of the play appeals to the side of me that says “Hell NO!” to big corporate conglomerates.

A few years back, a cash-strapped Kotis wandered the cold, rainy streets of Paris deciding whether to use one of the pay-per-use toilets or to pee free. An idea struck him for a play about a city where a malevolent corporation controls all toilets. "Corruption, oppression, class warfare, environmental degradation, all in a show where having to go to the bathroom was a principal motivating factor."

A crippling water shortage forces the poor citizens of a futuristic city to pay the ever-escalating fees of arch-capitalist, Caldwell B. Cladwell, president of UGC (Urine Good Company). The punishment for not paying the fee to pee is a long trip to the mysterious Urinetown. Hero, Bobby Strong, who embodies all the clichés of the musical revolutionary hero, soon begins revolt. He also meets his true love, Hope Cladwell (daughter of the villain!). From there, the revolution begins.

Ok, in light of all the corporate scandals and the Wal-Mart’s mongering to take over the world, who wouldn’t find this play apropos (well, maybe Kenneth Lay and Wal-Mart employees but if you can’t laugh at yourself then who can you laugh at?).

Maybe next week will be equally as action-packed or maybe I’ll revert to life as Yertle the Turtle.

Well it’s official. I don’t have a life. At least not an interesting one. I have a job that could potentially be done by a monkey (or maybe a chimp) and then I come home, and either a) find a Netflix movie in my mailbox, race up to my condo, whip some mint chocolate chip ice cream out of the freezer, and watch a dvd with Hammie; b) race up to my condo throw on my pj’s and watch whatever’s hot on tv that night (aka Lost); or c) race up to my condo to finish reading whatever book I have sitting on my nightstand. Mmmhhhmmm… don’t even say it. I already know it.

Ok, that’s it for the melodrama. At least for today’s post. (There’s always more of that any way you slice it!) I did actually venture out this weekend. I went out Friday night to a great dive, as long as you overlook the male prostitution and crack deals… (jk, kinda). I then proceeded to sleep, with intermittent bouts of conciousness, most of Saturday. Sunday was a first. At least in awhile. I went to church with a friend; albeit it was a Baptist church and I am fundamentally not Baptist. But I felt it was time to get out in the swing of things and spend a Sunday not making a deeper rut in my mattress and actually comb my bedhead.

Since I grew up in a fundamentally conservative church (you know the kind, just shy of dancing with snakes and preaching on eternal damnation…) I knew what I was potentially getting myself into. And the whole experience was almost like coming home- to a very dysfunctional family. [Caveat: I have nothing against Baptists or snakehandlers, in fact some of my very good friends are… Baptist that is].

We began our morning in Sunday School and I felt like I was back in 1992, 12 years old again, waiting to learn my Bible lesson. Of course, in 2006, the Sunday School teacher was probably only a couple of years older than myself and I wasn’t chanting "God is good, God is great." The lesson wasn’t bad, though it was a bit conservative for my taste. I did like how the teacher threw in a couple of things he learned off the History Channel (it appealed to my inner nerd).

After Sunday School we headed down to the sanctuary for the church service. I eyed the stage for my major criterion of a church; no armchairs on stage. I breathed an internal sigh of relief to see that, in fact, there was no armchair on stage. (For those of you unaware of the armchair phenomenon just turn on TBN and watch a little Benny Hinn or Jan Crouch.) The music ministry did a good job, I do prefer a good rock song to a hymnal any day. The sermon, however, was not my style. I felt like I was back in first grade playing Show & Tell. It was a bit off-putting to see the Senior Pastor on stage lugging around a staff (which he says had Hebrew writing on it; but for all I know one of his kids could have taken a Magic Marker to it). It did not stop there, he then proceeded to strike at a water feature, a metal basin, and two rocks with the staff. These theatrics were meant to be representations of the water theme that runs through the story of Moses’ trek to the Promised Land. He also asked the congregation to repeat back to him what the Israelites were so cranky about. "Water" shouted the congregation.

I’m sure this style is very hands-on and interactive for some people but I prefer not to have my Bible stories chopped into bite-sized bits and spoon fed me. It’s all a matter of taste and I’m glad for the experience. Now I know one more major criterion to look for in a church; no visual aids on stage. Oh, and a parking lot that doesn’t induce cursing bouts of road rage on your way out of church thus inciting guilty feelings and mild inclinations towards repentance.

I stumbled onto an interesting website the other day, MyHeritage.com. The site is perfect for fans of genealogy, family history, or those looking to waste an hour of life that one can never get back. The site uses photo facial recognition to link you to that long lost relative or… your favorite celeb. Ever thought you looked like someone famous? Well, think again. This site will either match your facial features to the sexiest movie star or tell you that you resemble Boris Yeltsin. Enter at your own risk.

Upon my first try I learned that I apparently resemble Edith Piaf- or at least 62% of my face does. Determined to find a resemblance to a celeb of this decade, preferably to someone not 6 feet under who currently bears a closer resemblance to mulch, I uploaded a second photo. The second try resulted in failure as well, apparently the very technologically advanced computer recognition system could not discern my facial features from the features of the cat attached to my cheek. But alas, my third try revealed that I resemble Gwyneth Paltrow and Katie Holmes (let’s assume pre-brainwashed and indoctrination by Tom Cruise). I’m not sure what level of scientific truth the site is operating on, but it is nice to think that 57% of my face could have been engaged to Brad Pitt in a previous life.

P.S. For fans of Augusten Burroughs, Gwyneth Paltrow will appear in a film adaptation of Running with Scissors that is currently in production.