Exodus

Faithful readers, I am in the midst of a small/gigantic upheaval period. This is the last day at my job and I have a guest and so between the packing and the drinking and the show and more drinking, I have been a bit busy.
Tomorrow we embark on what will be the beginning of what is a weeklong sojourn to my new home. I am hoping to get to post sometime mid week. I haven't forgotten you all or this blog, I promise.

In fact, I'm not even putting this on facebook or twitter, so if you read this, you must be doing it because you actually check my blog of your own desire, and not my constant self promotion. In which case, you must actually love me, or at least think i'm mildly amusing, and for that, you deserve a gold star.

More soon.

To the Artists In My Life

Serious-ish post. Still funny, and definitely positive (I think), but it's from the heart.

Right now, I work at a theatre. This theatre is in a canyon in the panhandle of Texas. The panhandle is very flat. I think, and often I feel a bit alone in this, the flatness is beautiful in it's way. It is however, in the panhandle of the state, and if you have looked at a map any time recently, you'll notice a lack of pretty much everything in that area. And that's because, there IS a lack of pretty much everything. Amarillo is the nearest city, and it's small as far as cities go.

The canyon itself is quite beautiful, but I confess, after having done the show the entire summer, I'm a little tired of it. What I once saw as an exquisite place of natural beauty has become rote, routine and non-discript. Sometimes, even, a place I resent because it's miles from town, even further from drinking establishments and hours away from any cities of size. When I go down into the canyon, I am a commuter going away from the places I want to commute to. I'm going to my job.

Most of the time, it's a pretty good job. There are the occasional occupational hazards- beetles the size of credit cards, tarantulas, getting kicked by horses, stepping in horse poop, 100+ degree heat- but then, who doesn't have a few pitfalls to be avoided in the workplace? And I'll be honest, the view of the stars is unmatched.

The show itself is simple. The plot's not hard to follow, the music is easy to grasp. The dancing is (for us, the singing ensemble) essentially step touching with a Texas flavor. After months of doing it 6 nights a week, I have it down pat. In fact, it's gotten to be something that I can do on autopilot. One could even say that it has become boring to perform.

The real deal is- I'm ready to end this job that I am very over. I'm ready to be away from this place that I don't love. In two sentences I've summed it up. Simple.

Unfortunately, it's not so simple. I'm moving to a new city when this show is over. I'm terrified. I'm excited. I don't have a job. I know two people there. I'm in love with the man I'm moving to be close to. I'm scared shitless that I will mess that up. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I want to do everything.

Suffice to say, my insides are doing triple sow cows.

I'm usually pretty good at projecting a calm exterior. I keep telling myself that it will all be okay and it will all work out, and for the most part I can pass it off that I believe it.

And then, art happens to me.

The cast of this show that I'm in is doing a side project, a talent show of sorts. I know I know. A talent show. Commence the eye rolling. I'll lead you. I imagined the worst memories of the high school talent show- awkward pauses, flat pitches, sad little tap numbers. In spite of that, I submitted (along with 3 others) a quartet number for the show. We got in. We pieced the number together. A quaint couple of songs to go in the (as I envisioned it) high school drama club annual revue.

Today we had the final dress rehearsal.

Wow. I cannot believe the scope and richness of the talent of the people that I work with. Words fail me. I was choked up more than once during the run through. I'm getting choked up now thinking about it. I am so proud to be on the same stage as these people.

And I'm amazed because suddenly all this change that is happening in my life and the anxiety it is causing me- it makes sense. Or it fits. Or somehow, I fit in it. And it's messy and beautiful and unfinished and then, in an instant, a moment takes my breath away. And this show we are doing- the show We are doing because we are artists and its all we have; because we have gifts that we must share, sometimes in spite of our own selves, and things that we must say because saying them is what makes us alive- this show is as much for us as it is for those smart enough, aware enough, privledged enough to be there to share those moments with us.

I am an artist. I will laugh and hurt and cry and sing and dance and laugh more because I have to and there is nothing else to do in the face of death. The chaos and harmony we create is how we fit into the universe. I count myself most honored to be surrounded by so many people with talent that runs so deep. Thank you thank you thank you, everyone.

The Food That Saved Me From Eternal Despair

Alright it's been a bit since I posted about food. And let's be honest, I really really love food. In fact, after I finished my last post, I realized that "eating" could also be something I got paid to do. (I also considered adding "drinking" to that list, but really, "drinking" professionally REALLY means you're A) a deadbeat B) an alkie or C) a writer, and while I had no problems identifying as the latter two, I didn't want to confuse the issue or the public by possibly being grouped with the former) I digress...

H'omigod. I had found the perfect job for me- Food Critic. How amazing would that be? I could eat food at restaurants (awesome), write about it (also awesome) and most importantly GET PAID (holy crap, awesome FTW!). For about 37 seconds I was pretty much not only going to have a job, but I was also going to award myself the Most Geniusest Genius EVER medal and about at least 50 Gold Stars.

And then, disaster struck.

Reality, that solidly built she-hulk in a faded floral print dress with runs in her hose, laid her massive clammy hand on my shoulder. Her large, fishlike lips moved. At first I thought she was hyperventilating, and then I thought the world was in slo-mo and I was dreaming and then I realized she was laughing at me.

And like 2-pack-a-day smoker, her voice crawled out of that mouth and into my head.

"Food critic? That's a laugh. There's only like seven of them alive and five of them live in the UK and Europe. Think again, bub."

Sigh.

I knew she was right. My shoulders slumped in despair as she lugged her way Lurch-ily into the background of my mind. Food critic jobs were hard to come by, and there might actually even be training or stuff you have to do before you can be one (I thought about researching this, but then decided it was better not to hurt my heart further). So, sadly I decided not to amend the list to include "eating." I didn't know what I was going to do with myself. Ever. Why was I even here? What was the point of living anymore?!?!

(This is pretty much my face at that moment.)







In my state of deep melancholy, I walked into the kitchen to get something to munch on. You see, there are people out there in the world who, when faced with stress or sadness, do not eat. They waste away, often tragically, to skin and bones. Sometimes, movies get made about them. Sometimes, they make the movies themselves. In any event, depression = thin.

I am not one of those sorts of people.

Faced with bad news, I go immediately to the loving support and comfort that only a drive thru window can provide. Carbs are my solace. Cheese is my joy. Despair, I banish thee in the name of all things good and true and sugary!

So, faced with reality's awful rebuke of my Genius idea (and aside from not even getting to be a Food Critic, I wasn't going to get the Geniusest Genius Award OR the Gold Stars- ugh, my life was clearly an #epicfail), the kitchen was the only logical place to go. I opened up the cabinet (oh dubbs, if you've been following since the beginning, one of my slothy roomies finally moved out- HUZZAH!) and looked bleakly at my options. 3 cans of beans, 2 cans of tuna, assorted spices and herbs, and a cup of applesauce. F.M.L. I was beginning to wonder how I could pull the blades out of my Mach 3 shaving razor and end it all.

I turned to the refrigerator. It was similarly bleak- pickles, cottage cheese, carrots, bologna. And then, just when I thought all hope was lost, I spied something small and red towards the back of the bottom shelf. It was a plastic lid on a round container. I reached in. Could it be? Was it? It WAS.



Hummus.

Hummus from above (or in this case, the back of the fridge).

Hummus, with it's smooth creamy texture and its delicious chickpea and garlicy taste. Easily a ranking food on the Greatest Foods of All Time Ever list, this treat from the gods (specifically the ones hanging out around the Mediterranean) suddenly made my day much brighter. I grasped the hummus and the carrots, tried to hold back my tears of joy, and dashed back into my bedroom. And even though I STILL didn't know what I was doing for a job, I had hummus.

My plate ranneth over.

Some things I do Awesomely! (Things You Could Pay Me For!)

The job search is ON! As my current contract is slowly (achingly, glacially) coming to an end, I have started up the search for employment in the area I'm moving to. So far, this isn't going so well- aside from the fact that I'm not actually there yet (and won't be for another 3 weeks or so), there a little thing called The Great Recession that just happened and, oh, p.s. getting a job right now is HARD. As I'm sure you all know for yourselves, getting a job anytime requires a certain amount of extra energy. But in typical Aaron fashion, I have heaped on the possibly-unfavorable factors- new city that I've never been to that has a lot of technical jobs and also a major university that will have *just* started before I get there, all the while unemployment hovers just under 10%.

Clearly, any employer should see that I enjoy a challenge.

After quite a bit of thought, I've come up with the a few things that I feel I could be awesome at. Like, you could hire me to do them today, right now. No orientation, no training, I just show up and start doing them awesomely.

Laying on a bed.

Aside from the fact that I do this for an average of at least 8 hours every day (and more if I have the chance), I feel I'm pretty darn qualified for this job. I can lay in a variety of positions and orientations- facing either direction, on my back or stomach, I'm open. I'm pillow flexible (one pillow/two pillow/pillowless). More than just qualified, I actually like doing laying on a bed. In fact, I've only laid on a few beds that I've had problems with (and in those few select cases, there were usually bugs/small rabid animals/crazies attempting to share the bed with me). Clearly, I could earn a living laying on a bed.

Walking.

Again, I already do this quite a bit, so I'm definitely qualified. I am a rare individual who can engage in the famed 'walking and talking at the same time' sort of walking. In fact, I can can even sing while walking. I can handle stairs, different tempos, and different gaits. But it's not all work and no play- I've been known to engage in a number of silly walks from time to time. I'm especially good at walking with my iPod playing- it's definitely a performance enhancer for me. (Note: running would have to be negotiated- while I'm not opposed to it, I feel the demand of my running skills is another skill set entirely)

Facebooking.

This is where my technical prowess can really shine. Facebook allows me to stay absolutely current on the most cutting edge as far as the interwebs go. I can friend, unfriend, invite, like and comment with ease. Facebooking for a living might even be place to use my leadership skills- I tag people in notes quite frequently, as well as create events from scratch! I've also had to block a person or two- I know that it's a difficult thing to do, but with greater skills come greater responsibilities, and I feel confident that I could hit that block button if it becomes necessary.

Putting in and taking out my contacts.

As you can see, I'm so good at this, eye don't even need to make it clearer for you.






Using the microwave.

This one is definitely the area that I have the most growth potential in. I can do hot pockets and popcorn no problem. I am, however, still mastering warming up things like chili or a casserole so that the middle gets warm but the outer edges don't get too hot in the process. Nevertheless, I do have an amount of passion for microwaving- I love the droning noise it makes, and watching the little plate turn in circles is something I really enjoy. I think with a little practice, I could even cook meat in one.


So those are my skills. If you or anyone you know is looking for someone to do any of these things full time, get in touch with me. I can provide a resume and references on request. Oh, and there are definitely Gold Stars available for those who help me find work. If that's not an incentive, I don't know what is.

A Cover Letter to the Gods of Rain

Dear Rain Gods;
Greetings! My name is Aaron Glover and I'm interested in getting you to rain heavily, specifically around the Palo Duro canyon between 6 and 9PM any night of the week except Monday. A number of my friends have spoken of you (complete list of references on request, but there's about 70 of us total) and I am writing to personally advocate your intervention. Currently, I am slaving away during the afore mentioned hours, and with your help, I think both you and I will benefit.

I am sure you're well aware, in outdoor drama when it rains significantly, we can't do the show. A sad but true fact. Now please do not misunderstand- I enjoy doing the show. It's great fun, the audience (usually) loves it, and most of the time, the canyon is a tolerable place to be. However, every so often, doing the show becomes almost unbearable. It could be the sweltering heat of a clay canyon that has been baking all day in the west Texas sun to temperatures in excess of 100 degrees. It could be the 5 inch long beetles that have descended upon the stage, making every moment spent not moving a moment of terror, just knowing that you could be dive-bombed at any second- and even when you are moving, they can attack. This also happens with mutant grasshoppers that sometimes think they can just keep hopping at you and maybe you'll disappear (bug gods, if you're reading this, you've turned away my letters requesting you vacate the theatre while we're doing the show numerous times. If at some point you change your mind and would like to discuss things further, I'm more than willing. Just so long as I don't have to look at, feel, smell, or hear you). It could be an audience of 200 people. Or it could just be the plain and simple fact that we've been doing the show 6 days a week since the beginning of June and I just don't want to do it that particular evening.

In any event, sometimes, the show, as they say, needs to not go on. And here is where you come in. If you could perhaps send us a small deluge (somewhere between say, a light shower and the Noah flood), we won't have to do the show. If the show got cancelled, the opportunities of what I could do with the evening are practically endless. I could go eat dinner in a restaurant at a normal time. I could go see a movie. I could go to a bar and start drinking before midnight (this would be particularly delightful). As you can see, an evening spent away from the canyon would be a most treasured time. And all you'd have to do is what you do- namely, make it rain.

As you'll see on my resume, I'm a multi-disciplined artist. I've been a part of many different kinds of performances. I've sung, acted, danced, even mimed. I feel that my skills in these areas particularly equip me to undertake the task of summoning you. Perhaps a rain dance, complete with blue Lycra unitard and paper mache streamers attached to my arms and head, would entice you? If not, I know a number of extremely moving poems and speeches that I can perform about rain- and depending on your particular tastes, I can do these highly stylized (for instance, I could smite the sun for being a non-rain-god, or howl like an animal dying of heat exhaustion- it's really up to you) or more in the vein of realism- such as a made for TV movie about farmers in a drought in the 1890's (hello, I play one in the show!). I also have a wide repertoire of songs I could sing involving rain- among them, "Purple Rain" by Prince, "Come Clean" by Hilary Duff, and "Umbrella" by Rihanna. I could even 'make it rain' like Weezy (pardon me, that was just a little "rain making" humor).

Clearly, this arrangement profits both of us. You get to make rain happen, I get an evening to myself. I hope you won't find my analysis of the facts too forward- I merely feel a hypothetical look at the situation best presents the benefits we both receive. I'd love to discuss the possibilities further at your earliest convenience. Feel free to contact me with any questions about anything in this letter or on my resume. I'll be in touch with you in the next week to make sure you have all the information you may need in making your decision. I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you for your time and consideration-
Aaron