Break A Leg

I'm graduating from college in less than six months. It's kind of a big deal. Despite this short timeline, I recently added a second minor to my undergraduate education, Theatre Arts Studies. Basically, this means I go to a lot of plays. But even I'll admit that seeing my university's production of White Christmas two nights in a row is a bit excessive. But it sure makes for a great story.

Because of my minor, I'm taking several theatre classes right now, one of which is taught by the director of this production and another of which gives students insight into the production concept so we can evaluate if the performance lives up to designer and director desires.

For this show, the director wanted the audience to go on a nostalgic journey back into the world of the time period and the original film. Which means dozens of gorgeous vintage costumes and a set reminiscent of an old Hollywood soundstage, complete with moving staircases and pianos to be danced on.

The first night met all of my expectations and even exceeded many. I was ecstatic to go again the following night. But apparently I had White Christmas on the brain. On the night between the two performances, I had a dream about the show. Almost a nightmare, really.

I dreamed that during the second night of the show, one of the lead male characters--the Danny Kaye role--fell off the piano while doing his tap dancing routine and broke his leg. The show had to be cancelled after everyone's hard work because, as I vividly dreamed, a guy cannot tap dance or lift his dance partner or do toe touches with a severely broken leg. Believe me. In my dream, he tried.

The memory of this dream lingered with me into the next morning, feeling like an omen over the day. On a smaller scale, it was like imagining your dog dying. Even though you rationally know it's not real, you still feel the hurt of it.

I'm the kind of girl who dreams and tells, and as I recounted this night vision to a coworker the next morning the brilliance of the dream came into view and thankfully calmed my nerves (mostly) about the coming performances.

As I told her about this actor breaking his leg, I recognized that I had dreamed a pun. You know, that old superstition that you shouldn't say "good luck" in theatre: instead you say, "Break a leg." That's what happened in my dream. Freud would say that subconsciously I felt that the performance was so good that the performers had figuratively broken their legs.

All day I couldn't stop telling people about my clever dream. Even during my REM cycle I'm witty.

Rest assured, the actor did not break his leg (at least not literally) during my second time at the show either, although my friend can tell you I did screech a few times when I thought he was going to trip on the stairs or fall off the piano.

Also, I'll have you know I actually passed him walking home from class the day after the dream. I assume he was on his way to get ready for the show. He looked at me; I looked at him. And as we passed, I thought, "Break a leg."

Even Webster Can't Spell Sometimes

Well, Lynne Truss fans. Here's a new one. This story almost makes me reconsider becoming an editor. Almost. But I have a good suggestion: why don't they just change the name of this crazy lake to an unpronounceable symbol? Like Prince did to get out of a recording contract. Think of it this way--no one can pronounce it now, anyway. Plus, I just love the irony that a town bearing the same name as the creator of America's first dictionary has such a problem with maintaining correct spelling. But it also makes me wonder? How often do people really have to spell it? And where was the editor when the road signs were made? The devil may just have the last laugh, Daniel Webster.

Jem Finch Meets Baseball

Despite my complete lack of hand-eye coordination, I have a strong secret desire to be a sports writer. Perhaps this stems from my love of anything to do with the Olympics. Maybe it comes from the fact that the film Remember the Titans changed my life, and I saw it five times in the theater. Maybe I just love great stories, and sports happens to have a lot of them, and the best ones seem to find their way into the hands of great writers. My top three, in no particular order: Seabiscuit by Laura Hillenbrand (just in time for the upcoming Kentucky Derby), The Greatest Game Ever Played by Mark Frost (the one and only time golf ever seemed understandable and enjoyable), and The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb (a book that confirms that running is a task for the diligent and crazy).

In the interest of pursuing this goal, I'm always looking for the crazy, untold sports stories. Today, MSN.com came through by providing me with this story. I was particularly struck by the story of #3 on the list. After all, Jimmy Piersall did once bat wearing a Beatles' wig. I also noticed that his life was good enough to inspire a movie, which led me to the ultimate source of knowledge: Wikipedia. The film, entitled Fear Strikes Out, features Anthony "Psycho" Perkins as Piersall and was directed by Robert Mulligan. This name struck the dejavu chords in my mind, perhaps because mulligan is a golf term meaning "do-over." But no. The name has actual significance for my pop culture experience. Robert Mulligan is also the director of the classic, must-see To Kill a Mockingbird. When I started reading about Jimmy Piersall, I never thought it would lead me to Anthony Perkins, let alone Jem Finch.

PS And for those of you playing at home, the last time I made a Kevin Bacon game post, I referenced a movie called Fear of Clowns. Today, that Fear Strikes Out. Any other "Fear" films I should know about? Considering the fact that neither these films sound watchable from their descriptions, maybe I'm better off not knowing.

Death: How to Get It Right

This article caught my attention because for as long as I can remember, my grandmother (who, by the way, insists on that grand and well-deserved title) has had her own funeral planned. My mom has slightly followed suit in this, telling me three songs she wishes played at her own funeral. Sadly I must admit I cannot recall the titles of these songs, although I know at least one is by the piano virtuoso Chopin. Hopefully, my mom and grandmother will have it recorded in an easy-to-find place when the time comes. Apparently this trend now extends beyond my family. (And, just so you know, I love the title of the book Meredith recommends.)

Circus Freak-y?

Tonight I had my first session of tutoring writing in the school library. Not very busy, which gives me plenty of time to surf the internet, which allows me to find great fodder for my blog. (I just looked up the word "fodder" in the online dictionary and it means "any foodstuff that is used specifically to feed domesticated livestock." I'm not implying anything with my use of the word; it just sounds great.) Here's is tonight's great gem and the Kevin Bacon-esque story of how I found it.

I'm in a children's publishing class right now, and I'm supposed to spend half an hour every week browsing the blogs of those in the kid lit industry. I find Sarah Miller's blog (I have no idea who she is, but I'm sure she's connected to the kid book biz), where, in a recent post, she mentions a book by Twyla Tharp. The name rings a bell, but not a Jeopardy! buzzer, so I head over to the trusted source of internet knowledge--Wikipedia.

For those of you who, like me, know Twyla Tharp's name but don't know why, let me tell you the high points before I get to the low point. She is an American dancer and choreographer who worked on the Billy Joel-inspired musical Movin' Out and with everyone's favorite Russian danseur, Mikhail Baryshnikov. Those works earned her great accolades, but her most recent Broadway venture was not so lucky.

But before I tell you, I need to take a little side trip. My family loves the game "Balderdash," especially when we are priviledged enough to play it with our favorite cousins. One playing of this fine game has become one of the top five family jokes. I don't remember what word we were redefining, but one of my cousins offered this gem as an answer: "an Albanian circus freak." Okay, so you probably had to be there (and, let's be honest, most of my blog readers probably were) but that one phrase--circus freak--has caused hours of laughter for more than ten years now.

And here's where Twyla Tharp meets the Circus Freak. I take this straight from her Wikipedia bio. "A recent Broadway venture was The Times They Are a-Changin', which places the music of Bob Dylan in the context of a small family circus, in which the clowns rise up against a cruel ringmaster. It was a critical disaster, torn to shreds by practically all, and closed after 35 previews and 28 performances. The orchestra pit was covered with trampolines, and the folk/rock band was on an elevated platform on stage." Who knew a musical about clowns and Bob Dylan songs would be "a critical disaster"? Probably the many people who consider clowns one of the ten scariest (or should I say "freakiest"?) things. It even has an official name: coulrophobia--but don't ask me to pronounce it. In fact, I was just looking up the official name when I discovered, through my friend Wiki P., that there is even a movie called Fear of Clowns. Not that surprising, actually. I wonder if there's an official name for the fear of Bob Dylan, or Bob Dylan music. . . . In any case, I'm not 100% sure why someone would make clowns the heroes of a musical, but the answer, my friends is blowin' in the wind if someone hasn't captured it yet and put it on Wikipedia.

PS I can't help but write this. Heath Ledger's rendition of the Joker should be a good indication of why this didn't work. Not only did Heath portray the freakiest clown around, but he also played Bob Dylan. Coincidence? Kevin Bacon and I don't think so.