You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is I know how to curse.

I've decided to go green today....

                                                  and recycle an old post:  

[I have several younger actors in the cast of the show I'm currently directing, so I am editing the heck out of myself at rehearsals.   That's what brought this to mind.]

Oh…..f—f—fudge.

Yeah, that’s what I say when I hurt myself or something doesn’t go right.    

  NOT!   

In many circumstances, the only thing that will do is to let a good expletive fly.      I don’t really have a problem with that; I mean, the words roll off your tongue so nicely.      Not that the adults in my life were setting a bad example, mind you.     No, during my formative years, my dad was very careful around us; and one of my mom’s rules was “if you don’t have anything nice to say, say nothing at all.    [Boy that was a toughey sometimes…]

But, I must admit that since about my sixteenth birthday, I have been a big fan of shall we say “colorful language.”       I learned them all very quickly and very easily.....    Not that I’m necessarily proud of that—or of the fact that I’ve apparently passed that trait on to my kids and grandson.       When they were little, I tried very hard to set a good example; occasionally though my Irish temper would get the better of me and  certain "bad words" would fill the air of our house.      I was always duly apologetic afterward, but unfortunately the kids did choose to imitate that part of mommy's personality instead of my good grammar.     And their dad wasn't always a saint either--he had his moments too.     But I’d rather the occasional F-bomb than words of hate or derision.     Some other adults in their lives often said some very prejudicial things about certain groups of people (ethnic, religious and otherwise).    

In spite of the fact that they have developed a talent for salty talk like me, I think I taught them to accept others for who they are and not the surface stuff.     Yes, we have our snarky moments of commenting on stupid or odd moments in our days, but on a whole my kids and my grandson are decent people who try to be kind and help others when they can.     They have good hearts.

So, yeah, I’m okay with the curse words.

Of course, I think we should all educate ourselves to some of Shakespeare’s curses—dude could really put down.    When one of the Bard’s characters curses someone it’s inventive—and scary too.

Here are some examples:

Thou viperous hell-hated misbegotten-divel!

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue, away!

So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge thy glutton bosom.

Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it.

So much more original than wishing someone a sexual experience……For more fun, click on the title of this post to link to a “Shakespearean Curse Generator” website.     Have Fun.

give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name

I love this quote.... It's from A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

Shakespeare's line is spoken by Theseus: ". . . as imagination bodies forth/ The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen/ Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing/ A local habitation and a name."

This is what artists, poets, musicians, actors do. They use their art to create a world within the piece they're working on. I'm more familiar with this in the theatre. Each show I've performed in or directed, we created our own world, our "habitation" in which to tell the story. And for the time we're working on the play, it becomes very real to us. I've been thinking about this as I prepare to start directing another play. It's my job to help the actors find their way into that habitation; to take the words on the page and give them a "name."

But don't we, to some extent, do that in our real lives too. We create a world within the larger one--a local habitation. Our family and friends are our world. For them we want things to always be happy and wonderful. And sometimes we invent things to protect them from the harsh realities of real life. Which may not be a good thing. We need to know about the bad things to know how to protect ourselves. I've seen so many adults who have no coping mechanisms because they were too sheltered growing up. I wanted to keep my kids from ever getting hurt or knowing about evil, but I would have done them a great disservice if I had. It was my obligation as a parent to give them the tools they needed to function on there own. In a sense it was my duty to make myself obsolete.

Of course, as a parent you're never really obsolete. Your kids always need you there in the background supporting them. Just like my actors need me to parent them through the story.

Maybe that's why I love directing so much--I get to be "mom" over and over again--without the potty training.

You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is I know how to curse.

Oh…..f—f—fudge.

Yeah, that’s what I say when I hurt myself or something doesn’t go right. NOT! In many circumstances, the only thing that will do is to let a good expletive fly. I don’t really have a problem with that; I mean, the words roll off your tongue so nicely. Not that the adults in my life were setting a bad example, mind you. No, during my formative years, my dad was very careful around us; and one of my mom’s rules was “if you don’t have anything nice to say, say nothing at all. [Boy that was a toughey sometimes…]

But, I must admit that since about my sixteenth birthday, I have been a big fan of shall we say “colorful language.” Not that I’m necessarily proud of that—or of the fact that I’ve apparently passed that trait on to my kids and grandson. But I’d rather the occasional F-bomb than words of hate or derision. I think I taught them to accept others for who they are and not the surface stuff. So, yeah, I’m okay with the curse words.

Of course, I think we should all educate ourselves to some of Shakespeare’s curses—dude could really put down. When one of the Bard’s characters curses someone it’s inventive—and scary too.

Here are some examples:

Thou viperous hell-hated misbegotten-divel!

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue, away! [now tell me THAT'S not impressive]

So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge thy glutton bosom.

Would the fountain of your mind were clear again, that I might water an ass at it.

[I think this is my favorite]

So much more original than wishing someone a sexual experience……For more fun, click on the title of this post to link to a “Shakespearean Curse Generator” website. Have Fun.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose..."

Okay, let's start off by saying I wasn't always enamored of my name.

I felt odd cause no one else shared it with me. My brothers all had regular old All-American "guy" names: Bill, Bobby and Rick. How come I had something out of the ordinary? [When you're a kid you totally want to fit in, don't you? If you're lucky, as you mature, you realize standing out rocks.]

When I eventually found out how I got my name, it was kinda cool. I was 4 days old before it was bestowed upon me--by my oldest brother. My parents, excited over their first [and, it turned out, only] girl, could not agree on what name suited me. My father suggested Joan, after one of his nieces. My mother politely demurred: "There's already a Joan in the family. It'll be like 'Robert'." [Say "Bob" at one of my dad's family reunions and 15 guys would turn around.] Then dad offered Jane...."Oh no," said my mother, "Then she'll get 'Plain Jane.' I'm not doing that to our daughter." [Third kid in six years, I guess mom was a little cranky--she usually never argued with my dad.]

Well this continued on.....with the letter "J" seeming to having a real hold on the negotiations for some reason . Into the picture comes my 6 year old eldest brother; he was a happy little first grader. I guess my dad was talking about his nameless little sister to him as he was putting him to bed or something.... In his school reader, the main characters were John, Jean and Judy [apparently a contender, albeit briefly]. BUT--they had two friends who lived down the block: Bobby and Ellen. Six year old reasoning being what it is, he made the connection: "We have a Bobby, why not an Ellen?" Bingo, I had a name.

Now, when it came time for my late husband and I to name our two little ones, I agonized over it for months. And I mean agonized--I remembered my feelings when I was little and didn't want to put my kids through the same thing. Our daughter was born on Valentine's Day of 1975 and my hubby allowed me to pick her name. After much thought, I chose Megan as a tribute of sorts to my Irish grandfather. I opted to not use the more Gaelic spelling, Meghan, because I thought it might confuse people. As it was, my husband's grandmother could never remember it--she called her "Nutmeg" til the day she died. I had real doubts about my choice after the umpteenth time I explained the name--but then The Thornbirds came out and by the time she started kindergarten there were two other Megans.

Our son joined the family on March 14th, 1976. His dad got the honors of naming him and chose Jason--partly after Jason and the Argonauts. It's a good strong name and our son has grown into a good strong man. I think both of my children are very happy with their names--thank God. I would feel awful if I found out I'd stuck them with something they hated.

A name can influence your behavior, I think. It can make you feel like you have "street cred." I mean it's hard to go all gangsta with the name Cuthbert or Chauncey. And who could feel very sexy/glamourous named something like, say, Agnes? By the same token, names such as Chastity or Faith can put alot of pressure on a person. A name can be a powerful entity that casts a shadow over who you are in life.

I often wonder what was going through their parents minds when I hear some people's names. Now some are very cool and have real character to them, but others......
Some poor souls are stuck with the most outrageous monikers! I know if it was me and I had a name that just screamed to be mocked, I'd be down at the courthouse changing it the minute I turned 21.

But maybe I'm just a wimp.

What light through yonder window breaks...

It is the sunrise--and I'm wide awake.

Can anyone tell me why, on my days off, I wake up with the dawn...even after not being able to fall asleep til the wee hours?

Sleep--or the lack thereof--has become a huge issue in my life. It is very frustrating, and debilitating, to spend night after night tossing and turning. I've always taken a long time to nod off, but once I was asleep, I was out. At least til about 15 years ago...

Wakefulness started when my kids were babies--a mom always has one ear tuned to whether her kids need her or not. My daughter was a night owl; she didn't want to miss anything, even as an infant. My son had colic, but once he conked out at night he was fine. As toddlers, she still took forever to fall asleep and he'd zone as soon as his head hit the pillow. But that meant he'd wake up at the crack of dawn. My window of opportunity was very small--but I made the best of it.

Teen years brought wakefulness of a different kind. But once I was asleep, it was deep and restful. Not with Fibromyalgia. The past decade has been a battle to reach that nirvana of true restorative rest. I get what Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson were going through. It is the most frustrating feeling in the world. I've tried all of the homeopathic remedies--with so-so results. I've tried prescription drugs--but felt like a zombie the next day. I even participated in a drug study for a new medication. It worked rather well, but I have no idea what it was or whether it ever passed approval.

So what does a chronic insomniac do? Well, on the weekends, I just roll over and try to catch up on what I lost during the work week. "To sleep, perchance to dream."