"Nothing you do for children is ever wasted.
They seem not to notice us, hovering,
averting our eyes, and they seldom offer
thanks, but nothing we do for them is ever
wasted."
(Garrison Keillor)
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Matt sat on the mat, Matt.
Matt Smith,
I wish, Matt Smith, that I had as clever a nickname for you as you seem to have for me. Of course, then I realize that I indirectly gave you that ingenious nickname. You typed it, I questioned it, and I put it to use. (Oh, the cleverness of me.)
Also, I have trouble explaining different stories to people. Sometimes, I'll tell a Matt Smith story -- like the time you did that thing that was so funny and we all laughed -- and people will go, "Oh, that Matt Dunegan! He's so funny!" And then I'll have to tell them, "No, Matt is my boyfriend. Matt was the one who did that funny thing that made us all laugh. Matt did that other thing that was funny that I told you about the other day." And then they'll say, "Wait. I thought you said that Matt did that funny thing." And I'll get frustrated and say, "No, that's Matt. He did that OTHER funny thing. Matt's my friend. MATT is my boyfriend." And then their brain will explode.
So you can see the trouble it's causing, I'm sure. In case you're wondering, yes, I have considered using both of the Matts' last names, but I'm trying to be more efficient in my speech. There are far too many syllables to consider. That option is right out.
Therefore, I've started to consider some possibilities for your nickname. "MS" was an option -- I mean, they're your initials. But then, MS is also a life-altering condition. And really, who wants a nickname with no vowels? (Besides the Polish. They have no need for vowels except to spell Poland. Does Poland still exist? I never had geography in school. What am I saying? I'm out of school, and I shouldn't have to know whether or not Poland still exists. If Poland exists, so be it. The vowel comment still stands.)
The other options are as follows:
1) Matterooni - Like "macaroni" crossed with Mickey Rooney, so it'd be noodles that sang and danced and were shaped like elbows.
2) Smithsonian - I like to think of you as a huge, information-filled museum. You've got a lot of funny stuff in that brain of yours. As my dear Matt Dunegan would say, though, "Alas, alack, Alanis Morrisette!" That name is already taken. No matter what nickname I choose for you, though, I can still call you this one in secret though. I'll just say it to myself. So when I address you with your new nickname (whatever that ends up being), that silly grin on my face is really just me saying silently, "Oh that Smithsonian. He's so clever. And really, how clever am I to have gotten away with using the name Smithsonian without the officials knowing. I am so clever. Oh, the cleverness of me."
3) Math - Matt + Smith = "Math." It's ingenious.
4) Smatt - If you were to file something under your name, you'd file it under "Smith, Matt." Smith + Matt = "Smatt." Again, ingenious.
5) Jerry Seinfeld - This one's just obvious. I mean, have you ever gotten a good look at Jerry Seinfeld? He looks and sounds absolutely nothing like you. It's out of left field, no one's expecting it, no one sees it coming. I'd be like, "Hey, Jerry Seinfeld!" And you'd be like, "Hey there, you!" And heads would turn. Sheer brilliance.
After lengthy deliberation, however, I've finally decided on your nickname.
Mat.
It's great, yes? It distinguishes you from my boyfriend, Matt, and you still get all the recognition and distinction and pomp and circumstance that your given name calls for.
I like it, and you should too.
As always,
Meredith
I wish, Matt Smith, that I had as clever a nickname for you as you seem to have for me. Of course, then I realize that I indirectly gave you that ingenious nickname. You typed it, I questioned it, and I put it to use. (Oh, the cleverness of me.)
Also, I have trouble explaining different stories to people. Sometimes, I'll tell a Matt Smith story -- like the time you did that thing that was so funny and we all laughed -- and people will go, "Oh, that Matt Dunegan! He's so funny!" And then I'll have to tell them, "No, Matt is my boyfriend. Matt was the one who did that funny thing that made us all laugh. Matt did that other thing that was funny that I told you about the other day." And then they'll say, "Wait. I thought you said that Matt did that funny thing." And I'll get frustrated and say, "No, that's Matt. He did that OTHER funny thing. Matt's my friend. MATT is my boyfriend." And then their brain will explode.
So you can see the trouble it's causing, I'm sure. In case you're wondering, yes, I have considered using both of the Matts' last names, but I'm trying to be more efficient in my speech. There are far too many syllables to consider. That option is right out.
Therefore, I've started to consider some possibilities for your nickname. "MS" was an option -- I mean, they're your initials. But then, MS is also a life-altering condition. And really, who wants a nickname with no vowels? (Besides the Polish. They have no need for vowels except to spell Poland. Does Poland still exist? I never had geography in school. What am I saying? I'm out of school, and I shouldn't have to know whether or not Poland still exists. If Poland exists, so be it. The vowel comment still stands.)
The other options are as follows:
1) Matterooni - Like "macaroni" crossed with Mickey Rooney, so it'd be noodles that sang and danced and were shaped like elbows.
2) Smithsonian - I like to think of you as a huge, information-filled museum. You've got a lot of funny stuff in that brain of yours. As my dear Matt Dunegan would say, though, "Alas, alack, Alanis Morrisette!" That name is already taken. No matter what nickname I choose for you, though, I can still call you this one in secret though. I'll just say it to myself. So when I address you with your new nickname (whatever that ends up being), that silly grin on my face is really just me saying silently, "Oh that Smithsonian. He's so clever. And really, how clever am I to have gotten away with using the name Smithsonian without the officials knowing. I am so clever. Oh, the cleverness of me."
3) Math - Matt + Smith = "Math." It's ingenious.
4) Smatt - If you were to file something under your name, you'd file it under "Smith, Matt." Smith + Matt = "Smatt." Again, ingenious.
5) Jerry Seinfeld - This one's just obvious. I mean, have you ever gotten a good look at Jerry Seinfeld? He looks and sounds absolutely nothing like you. It's out of left field, no one's expecting it, no one sees it coming. I'd be like, "Hey, Jerry Seinfeld!" And you'd be like, "Hey there, you!" And heads would turn. Sheer brilliance.
After lengthy deliberation, however, I've finally decided on your nickname.
Mat.
It's great, yes? It distinguishes you from my boyfriend, Matt, and you still get all the recognition and distinction and pomp and circumstance that your given name calls for.
I like it, and you should too.
As always,
Meredith
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
I Do Not Want the Anal Probe
Greetings and salutations, friend.
The direction I was given yesterday in my "playwrighting basics workshop" was to find some time each day to do some writing. I thought, "Hell. I blog." This is writing, right? Right. Now that that's covered... moving on.
My other workshop -- today's workshop -- is "Vocal Orchestration and the Spoken Word." Or something. We spent a great deal of time this evening talking about operatives, primary and secondary emphasis, and the way in which those obscure things changed the way we delivered our lines. When asked what part of today's class "resonated" with me, I truly wanted to tell the instructor (incidentally, the CEO of the theatre), "This is just like the 'I Do Not Want the Anal Probe' game." But... I didn't. (It's quite the fun game in that it does not actually involve an anal probe.)
Seems I was busy -- this weekend -- doing something close to nothing, but different than the day before. (And, of course, any Prince references are included in honor of Prince's hometown of Minneapolis. Glad we could clear that up.) Spent a great deal of time with Matt, bumming around Uptown, window shopping and eating good food. He bought a hat that makes him look like a superhero. (Not a raspberry beret, but I bet you could work him into the superhero idea you have for John, me, and you.) He found a hat that read "Sheep" and had a picture of, yes, a sheep on it. Seems they'll make hats that do all sorts of things besides keep your head warm.
We ate sushi made by a guy named Steve and rushed to get into the liquor store before closing. I drank tea and I made coffee for the first time in 3 months. (Can't say I missed it, really, even if I was making it for Matt.) We peed in a Lutheran church -- I felt like a secret agent on a stealth mission! -- and went to a coffee shop for bikers. Yay for Bob's Java Hut.
We went to the only Steelers' bar in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area (there are so many!), The Starting Gate, and met up with an old friend. We drank beer, and went shopping for groceries. We rented a movie, watched some ZIM! and cooked some dinner. Life was -- is -- good.
It felt good to feel like I was home again.
Even if all it took was dinner, wine, Ben & Jerry's, and falling asleep on the couch halfway through a movie.
Good sighs,
Meredith
The direction I was given yesterday in my "playwrighting basics workshop" was to find some time each day to do some writing. I thought, "Hell. I blog." This is writing, right? Right. Now that that's covered... moving on.
My other workshop -- today's workshop -- is "Vocal Orchestration and the Spoken Word." Or something. We spent a great deal of time this evening talking about operatives, primary and secondary emphasis, and the way in which those obscure things changed the way we delivered our lines. When asked what part of today's class "resonated" with me, I truly wanted to tell the instructor (incidentally, the CEO of the theatre), "This is just like the 'I Do Not Want the Anal Probe' game." But... I didn't. (It's quite the fun game in that it does not actually involve an anal probe.)
Seems I was busy -- this weekend -- doing something close to nothing, but different than the day before. (And, of course, any Prince references are included in honor of Prince's hometown of Minneapolis. Glad we could clear that up.) Spent a great deal of time with Matt, bumming around Uptown, window shopping and eating good food. He bought a hat that makes him look like a superhero. (Not a raspberry beret, but I bet you could work him into the superhero idea you have for John, me, and you.) He found a hat that read "Sheep" and had a picture of, yes, a sheep on it. Seems they'll make hats that do all sorts of things besides keep your head warm.
We ate sushi made by a guy named Steve and rushed to get into the liquor store before closing. I drank tea and I made coffee for the first time in 3 months. (Can't say I missed it, really, even if I was making it for Matt.) We peed in a Lutheran church -- I felt like a secret agent on a stealth mission! -- and went to a coffee shop for bikers. Yay for Bob's Java Hut.
We went to the only Steelers' bar in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area (there are so many!), The Starting Gate, and met up with an old friend. We drank beer, and went shopping for groceries. We rented a movie, watched some ZIM! and cooked some dinner. Life was -- is -- good.
It felt good to feel like I was home again.
Even if all it took was dinner, wine, Ben & Jerry's, and falling asleep on the couch halfway through a movie.
Good sighs,
Meredith
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Germs and Worms and Holiday Things
Hi there, Matt Smith.
I think one day I'm going to decorate my house like an elementary school.
I guess I never really thought about it before, but when you get right down to it, I do like a lot of tacky things. For one, I own that ridiculous, fringy, hangy red lamp that I tote around with me. I have a jean jacket that looks like I stole it from DJ Tanner -- pins and bells and whistles and ribbons and all. Definitely straight out of the 80s, and what's more, I actually wear this jacket. Proudly. So many of the things that I own are ugly, and pathetic, and dilapidated... No. Really. It's true.
The great thing is, though, when I add up all those tacky wonderful things, it works somehow. I don't know why that is, but it's true. Take all that beautiful tackiness, and add it all up, and it's just LOVELY. (Or, as my mother would say, "Put it in a barrel and shake it up." Which actually IS something that people say. Honest.)
So... I think Elementary School Decor is definitely the way to go. I could hang finger paintings on the wall, and make strange decorations out of construction paper and glue (all seasonally appropriate, of course -- cats and ghosts for Halloween, wreaths for winter holidays). I could have window clings of obscure things like teddy bears sledding, and hearts with arms and legs. I could hang strings from my ceiling tiles and tie clothespins to the ends of them so I could dangle paper snowflakes and farm animals from them.
It'd be just... grand.
(Don't you think?)
More to come,
Meredith
I think one day I'm going to decorate my house like an elementary school.
I guess I never really thought about it before, but when you get right down to it, I do like a lot of tacky things. For one, I own that ridiculous, fringy, hangy red lamp that I tote around with me. I have a jean jacket that looks like I stole it from DJ Tanner -- pins and bells and whistles and ribbons and all. Definitely straight out of the 80s, and what's more, I actually wear this jacket. Proudly. So many of the things that I own are ugly, and pathetic, and dilapidated... No. Really. It's true.
The great thing is, though, when I add up all those tacky wonderful things, it works somehow. I don't know why that is, but it's true. Take all that beautiful tackiness, and add it all up, and it's just LOVELY. (Or, as my mother would say, "Put it in a barrel and shake it up." Which actually IS something that people say. Honest.)
So... I think Elementary School Decor is definitely the way to go. I could hang finger paintings on the wall, and make strange decorations out of construction paper and glue (all seasonally appropriate, of course -- cats and ghosts for Halloween, wreaths for winter holidays). I could have window clings of obscure things like teddy bears sledding, and hearts with arms and legs. I could hang strings from my ceiling tiles and tie clothespins to the ends of them so I could dangle paper snowflakes and farm animals from them.
It'd be just... grand.
(Don't you think?)
More to come,
Meredith
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