Monday
Alright, so last night I had an idea. I thought that I'd try to get up early every morning and just before work type a little something up here. Every single day for the whole work week. I know, it's a wacky idea for a blog... but it's so crazy that it just might work.
(Great, what a wonderful first day. I've only got like twenty minutes to get ready and get my coffee and type this up. Then I get to wait around for ages for my coworker to show up. The time is different every day and your guess is as good as mine as to when she'll drive up, but it's not aggravating, no, no, it makes life interesting! HAHAHA!)
In any case I thought I'd spend this week reminiscing about
My Career in the Theatre.
My first appearance on the boards came when I was just a wee lass of 3 or 4. My mother and aunt had rigged up a makeshift stage in the basement of our house using hideous checkered blankets as the curtains. My mom hid beside the stage with the organ and we put on a Christmas pageant for our aunts, uncles, grandparents and various neighbours. It was just my two older sisters and two older female cousins and me.
I was too young to be trusted with remembering any words so I wasn't in much of the play. They put me in the grand finale, though, where we were to sing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer. I got to play Rudolph, down on all fours with a fake red nose on. My cousins and sisters gathered around me and started to sing. I was given the envious task of being the superfluous echo at the end of every line, and I had still not been able to conquer my 'r's yet, which lent another level of absurdity to the performance, although I'm sure everyone thought it was just too cute.
"Rudolph the rednosed reindeer..."
"Weindeow" (laughter)
"Had a very shiny nose..."
"Shiny nose"
"And if you ever saw it..."
"Saw it"
etc. etc.
It was a big hit and everyone loved it.
However, I was jealous of my sisters and cousins because they got more to do during the play, so my mother thought it would be a good idea to give me a role off stage to keep my mind off it. She dressed me up with a feather in my hair and gave me a box full of merchandise to hang around my neck and sell to the crowd of tables between acts. So, while my sister and cousin were getting their costumes on (checked tea towels on their heads with a piece of rope around to hold it in place - convincing wise men you'll agree) I went between the tables shyly saying "cigows... cigawettes... cigows... cigawettes..." I pummelled my relatives with my adorableness until each of them bought something from me (even my poor uncle who had bought all my inventory for me in the first place).
It was a fun time, the only time we did anything of that nature, and we all fondly remember it to this day. But for me it was something more. I think it's safe to pinpoint this incident as the defining moment in my young life. I had been bitten by the "have people pay a lot of attention to you and praise you a lot for doing very little" bug, and I had been bitten good.
Tomorrow: I respond to the mournful siren song of light opera societies.
Alright, so last night I had an idea. I thought that I'd try to get up early every morning and just before work type a little something up here. Every single day for the whole work week. I know, it's a wacky idea for a blog... but it's so crazy that it just might work.
(Great, what a wonderful first day. I've only got like twenty minutes to get ready and get my coffee and type this up. Then I get to wait around for ages for my coworker to show up. The time is different every day and your guess is as good as mine as to when she'll drive up, but it's not aggravating, no, no, it makes life interesting! HAHAHA!)
In any case I thought I'd spend this week reminiscing about
My Career in the Theatre.
My first appearance on the boards came when I was just a wee lass of 3 or 4. My mother and aunt had rigged up a makeshift stage in the basement of our house using hideous checkered blankets as the curtains. My mom hid beside the stage with the organ and we put on a Christmas pageant for our aunts, uncles, grandparents and various neighbours. It was just my two older sisters and two older female cousins and me.
I was too young to be trusted with remembering any words so I wasn't in much of the play. They put me in the grand finale, though, where we were to sing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer. I got to play Rudolph, down on all fours with a fake red nose on. My cousins and sisters gathered around me and started to sing. I was given the envious task of being the superfluous echo at the end of every line, and I had still not been able to conquer my 'r's yet, which lent another level of absurdity to the performance, although I'm sure everyone thought it was just too cute.
"Rudolph the rednosed reindeer..."
"Weindeow" (laughter)
"Had a very shiny nose..."
"Shiny nose"
"And if you ever saw it..."
"Saw it"
etc. etc.
It was a big hit and everyone loved it.
However, I was jealous of my sisters and cousins because they got more to do during the play, so my mother thought it would be a good idea to give me a role off stage to keep my mind off it. She dressed me up with a feather in my hair and gave me a box full of merchandise to hang around my neck and sell to the crowd of tables between acts. So, while my sister and cousin were getting their costumes on (checked tea towels on their heads with a piece of rope around to hold it in place - convincing wise men you'll agree) I went between the tables shyly saying "cigows... cigawettes... cigows... cigawettes..." I pummelled my relatives with my adorableness until each of them bought something from me (even my poor uncle who had bought all my inventory for me in the first place).
It was a fun time, the only time we did anything of that nature, and we all fondly remember it to this day. But for me it was something more. I think it's safe to pinpoint this incident as the defining moment in my young life. I had been bitten by the "have people pay a lot of attention to you and praise you a lot for doing very little" bug, and I had been bitten good.
Tomorrow: I respond to the mournful siren song of light opera societies.
posted by Alanis at
7:56 AM
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