So What Do You Say When We’re Twenty-Six |Birthday Post Volume 7

Dear middle sister,

I just copied and pasted the opener from your last birthday post. I can’t describe how thrilled I am that I don’t have to go back and link every post we’ve made in the past six years. Thank you for the doing the work so I don’t ever have to again. Also, I hope my choice of birthday-post-theme isn’t outside of my lane – I know I haven’t delved into this show that much, but the gifs are just. too good. Plus this show has given birth to too many memes for me to just let it lie.

Dear everyone else,

I’ve linked below, with no help at all from anyone else, all the words my sister and I have thrown at each other in the name of love and tradition. Enjoy if you like, then read what I am realizing now is essentially a pretty personal birthday letter, you creeps.

Mikayla Rae

Mikayla turns sixteen (Studio Ghibli) • Mikayla turns seventeen (Psych) • Mikayla turns eighteen (Avengers) • Mikayla turns nineteen (​Siblings) • Mikayla turns twenty (SNL) • Mikayla turns twenty-one (Alcohol) • Mikayla turns twenty-two (Gravity Falls)

Jennifer Ryan

Jen turns twenty (BBC) • Jen turns twenty-one (Community) • Jen turns twenty-two (Taylor Swift) • Jen turns twenty-three (Bob’s Burgers) • Jen turns twenty-four (X-Files) • Jen turns twenty-five (Firefly)

________________

Jennifer, another year has gone by where you absolutely graced the daylights out of the world with your existence. Graced it right the hell up. I may not have gotten to spend a lot of this year with you in person, but everytime I see a text, an instagram post, an unimaginably long snapchat story, a postcard, or anything you’ve sent me or been involved in, I have the same reaction:

Jennifer!

You’re a wonder. Your self-motivation is wild; I’m so impressed with how much you make yourself train, or how consistent and dedicated you are to doing your job well. You’re a beast.

(And don’t worry about your sleepytime tea songs. You’re no crazier than normal.)

Your late twenties are here, and that’s sick, my dude. Don’t get down about it, you’re still a spring chicken.

You appreciate a good view like no one else –

I mean, you have to. You moved down to Redwood country.

You’re such a gracious host when I make it down, not to mention you’ve spearheaded the most magical beachside picnics I’ve ever attended.

(NEVER too much cheese)

Thanks for always listening to me, and never being the kind of person to shoot people down or make someone feel silly for their interests or passions. Your positivity and genuine interest in people never goes unnoticed, ever! You’re smart, you’re cute, you’re so loved. I used to hate running into people who asked me about you because I missed you so bad and it hurt to remember you weren’t a ten minute drive away anymore. Now I adore it. When I see someone around town who asks “How’s Jen doing?” I absolutely light up because I am so excited to share with people that Jen seems so happy, Jen works at a lighthouse (WHAT), Jen sent me a picture last week, wait, let me show you – I’m so proud of her!!

Even if you weren’t doing any of that, Jen, you’d still mean the world to me – to me and to your whole family.

I love you Jen! I hope twenty-six suits you. I hope this year is full of the best milestones. I hope you see harbor seals everyday. I hope you find that you always know the right thing to do and you always have the courage to do it. I hope you stop watching scary documentaries before bed.

STOP IT JEN I WANT YOU TO SLEEP WELL YOU PUNK

In any case?? I love you and I miss you and I’m excited to party with you next month.

God bless babe.

Auntie Blog

The other day I heard someone react to being called “a mommy blog” with offense and discomfort. Yes, that’s my intro. Let’s dissect.

She was called a mommy blog because she was a mom who ran a blog and who blogged about being a mom. It didn’t seem like an insult. So we can assume one of two things about the woman who took offense:

1. She doesn’t like reading other mommy blogs

or

2. She thought she ran a different blog

In the event of number one, it is fair to say there is a sizable sub-culture of people who hate something, become part of the thing to mock it, and then lose their way. That’s understandable. Hi, I’m Mikayla and I asked someone to take a picture of me dabbing a few weekends ago.

In the event of number two, well, she must have noticed at some point that she was both a mommy and a blogger. (I apologize for saying “mommy” so much)

Look, no judgement either way. But hey, a mommy blogger is not the worst thing to be.

I’ve felt like a mom in disguise ever since my own mother divulged to me that I have the frankly terrifying potential to be one someday. Fortunately, I am not yet qualified to be a mommy blogger, but I am more than cut out to be something very similar.

Auntie blogger.

This market is wide open.

I’ve never heard of an auntie blog before but I’m not naive – this is 2018 and I’m streaming my dumbass thoughts directly into your head via computer pixels, so I’m sure that an auntie blog exists out there. But let’s pretend the impossible has happened and I’ve had an original idea – I’m imagining what an auntie blog would look like and just how amazing I would be at it.

Look, If a mommy blog gets away with the occasional good-natured but dead-serious jab at her kids, how much more could an aunt do it?

mommy blog: “I would die for my kids, but I think they’ll be the death of me first ;)”

auntie blog: “I would die for my nephew, but he is objectively disgusting and if he were to try to touch me after eating, I would for sure punt him as far as I could.”

Mommy blogs write for other moms with advice about how to get their alone time, how to stop tantrums, and what the best kind of snack foods are to keep the kids from getting hyperactive.

Aunts? Could not care less about any of those things.

If an aunt were running a blog like that, their advice would be about what phrases are funniest to teach kids, and which vines compilations are best suited for littles under seven. If I found a auntie blogger or youtuber who could teach me the sneakiest ways to film my niece when she’s singing without her noticing and stopping immediately, I would be all over it. And don’t tell me that’s creepy. No one is going to believe me when I tell them she knows all the words to “Gloom Boys” and I NEED them to it’s IMPORTANT to me and it SHOULD BE IMPORTANT TO HER BECAUSE THAT’S SICK AND SHE SHOULD BE PROUD

Aunts and uncles need more media-based support! We need advice! Especially for a certain subset of us, who are required to be better aunts and uncles because we’re kidless ourselves.

It’s not that we singles owe any special effort to the kids or to ourselves, but we do owe a debt to someone. We owe a huge, crippling debt to the sibling that bit the bullet and gave our parents grandkids so that the pressure would be off of us.

For that gift alone, we really have to be amazing.

You know those “if you’re free, thank a veteran” bumper stickers? It’s like that. If you’re watching episodes of the Punisher on full volume in your home that stays clean until you mess it up, thank the brother or sister who spends all their free time raising tiny human beings.

Lastly, a mother’s love is great, but it’s a totally different brand from an aunt’s love. That’s not to say it’s not better, obviously (I have not ever spent 24 hours in excruciating pain in a hospital for my niblings’ sake; and if I ever do, you can bet I’m going to resent them for it), but it is miles different. Kids need moms, but they need tall friends who can tell them stories about their moms too. That’s what I’m here for.

It’s good to have that kind of variety when it comes to affection.

Plus, there’s a bonus for the parents too! Since an aunt’s motherhood is vicarious, all the negative motherhood-related emotions are significantly lessened; shame from over-posting the kids on social media, disgust from cleaning up a toy that has been covered in mysterious slime, frustration from getting an angry two-year-old into bed; it all registers a different way. For us, it’s novelty. But my mom?? and my big sister??? Doing what I choose do for 3 hours a week but every single day and all in a row and because they have to????

(and also thank you)

I adore my niece and nephew with all my heart. It’s not always fun, but hell if it ain’t good. We as aunts and uncles need to remember that any babysitting now is a direct deposit towards a future good buddy that we might not have to load up a carseat for. That’s enough to keep me going.

Here’s to my fellow aunts and uncles! Here’s to being cool while kids still think we are. Don’t forget: every one of our respective nieces and nephews are the cutest in the world, but mine most of all and the rest of you can get dunked on xoxo

Field Guide to North American Office Staff

Regardless of how true it is that every person is unique in their experiences, interests, and strengths,  everyone’s had an unexpected deja vu when shaking someone’s hand for the first time.

Whether it’s a face or a personality, humans are always drawing comparisons from people we are meeting to people we already know. That feeling goes away the better you get to know someone, but first impressions take a while to shake, particularly if that impression was that you might as well have already known the person in question.

I’ve worked in a number of offices (Do you like how I won’t reveal how many? I think it’s cute), and I’ve met a number of interesting people there (Do you like how I won’t revealing how many? I think it). What I have really found interesting though, is that you get to meet certain people again and again when you go from office to office.

It may be that a certain kind of person gravitates towards office jobs, or it may just be a small world. You tell me. Here are the people you meet in an office, Five-People-You-Meet-in-Heaven-style.

1. The Walking Dead on AMC

This person shows up bright and early every morning with a face they probably pulled off of someone else for a snack on the way to work. It’s hard to tell if their expression is calm or angry. They seem to know everything; and if they find something they do not know how, they dismiss it as unimportant. How long have they worked here? Longer than anyone can remember.

How to Identify One: Ask them how it’s going. If they’re a Walker, they’ll respond, “Oh. It’s going.” Bonus points awarded if they then proceed to take the longest sip of coffee you’ve ever seen in your life.

Variant: Warm Bodies. This version of the Walking Dead has a heart of gold. Slow and decaying, but golden.

2. I Don’t Break Pens I Destroy Them by Saint Motel

This person spends a lot of time on the phone; they spend a lot of that time looking for something to do with their hands. They spend the most time disfiguring, chewing on, and snapping writing utensils into numerous sections. No one is sure if this is a sign of aggression or boredom, but it’s taking its toll on the office either way. The Pen Destroyer will often pat the desk and demand to know where the pen they were using went – it’s on the floor. It’s in eleven pieces.

How to Identify One: Try to check out their pockets or purse before they leave work. Are they sneaking a few pens home for further torture? Report them immediately. This can’t go on.

Variant: Michelangelo. The Michelangelo sub-type couples every phone message with an elaborate drawing of geometric angles and/or anime beta flashes.

3. The Youtuber

No one in the office is sure when, how, or why they know everything about this person’s life, but the fact remains that everyone does. Didn’t the Youtuber just start work last month? Have they been talking the whole time or something? There’s no way that you’ve had enough time to get to know this person as well as you do now. You feel a little creepy for knowing so much about them (and you’re not sure they know anything about you), but they don’t seem to mind. Sharing is caring, after all. They must care so much.

How to identify one: You do not have to observe this person for long to understand where they are on the spectrum of office life. You do have to listen for a while, however.

Variant: Olan Rogers. The stories an Olan Rogers Youtuber tells are off the wall. You know you found one of this sort if you actively avoid work so that they can keep talking.

4. Toby

They’re like…. an evil snail. You hate so much of the things that they choose to be. Why are they the way that they are?

How to identify one: Chances are if there is a Toby in your life, you already have them in mind. You don’t need my help here.

Variant: Michael Scott. This is more of a reflection upon the person identifying than it is upon the identified. It signifies the moment when you realize that the person is no worse than you are but maybe you’re kind of a jerk. However, sometimes people are just evil snails; that’s the way the world is, son.

5. Mom

Don’t be fooled – this is not a gendered role within the office. Male or female, the mom is the only one a Walker will go to for help, and the only person that doesn’t seem fazed by any of Toby’s Toby-ness. They know where all the pens are and they have the courage to tell the Youtuber when it’s time to just hush, please, for the love of all that is holy. They’re the person you would talk to if you were calling in sick, and the person who would definitely bring cough drops for you when you came in afterwards.

How to identify one: This person is between the ages of 35 and 56. They’re always busy because they’re working through a long line of people trying to get advice, training, and hugs from them.

Variant: Mom, but Mad. You’ll know this one when you see it. Don’t use that tone of voice around her.

This handy identification guide should get you through your first few days near a cubicle. It’s good to have some familiarity right off the bat, but please avoid my mistakes and enjoy responsibly; like anything that generalizes human souls into nifty pop culture references, it has an expiration date and goes sour the second you realize that the people around you are people too (yeah, even the zombies).

Happy Almost-Monday!

From Where I Stand

Everyone who’s spent eleven minutes in a first grade Sunday School class knows that you’re required to bow your head and fold your hands when you pray. It’s a requirement that gets less strict as you age. As far as I can tell, it’s mostly meant for littles to keep them from whispering while you bend the ear of the Great Creator to thank Him for letting you be in the same room as the food you’re almost allowed to eat.

I was okay with this rule as a tiny one, but I didn’t really get it. As I grew up and found out God could hear you regardless of what position your hands were in, I started to think maybe praying eyes-open-and-face-forward was superior to it. in any case, it seemed like the way big kids prayed. Folding your hands feels very first-grade after a while.

Now, flash-forward a few years to one of the maybe nine things I know now: the cool thing about praying is that there’s no wrong way to do it, as long as you’re being honest and know that you’re talking to the one who made you.

But still – I think posture does matter. Bear with me. Kick out that image of Mia Thermopolis being told that Princesses don’t slouch (weren’t you thinking of that scene? Get out of my face I’m always thinking about Princess Diaries).

Let me go ahead and point at some other people who say this better than I do.  I have a distinct memory of one middle school church service in which we were asked to assume a “posture of reverence” before praying. I also remember blinking a few times while I processed the request. Look, I was homeschooled, I wasn’t dumb. I knew what the words meant, but I only sort of got what he was saying. Mostly, it was a strange thing to hear from the person who said it – i.e., the game leader, i.e., the coordinator of so much sixth-grader on sixth-grader violence.

It was interesting to see how the group responded to our leader’s suggestion. A couple dozen middle school kids channeled their respect into their respective positions – some bowed their heads, some tilted their heads back, some closed their eyes, and some nodded through the prayer. Obviously, I peeked or I wouldn’t know this at all. Sorry James.

But I get it now.

Another church leader I knew just a few years ago used to ask the congregation to stand when he read from the Bible. This one was a jolly good time because in the bigger crowd of a grown-up service, there were more reactions. You heard a couple of complaints from the people behind you who had “just gotten comfortable” and you saw a few people hop to their feet like they were about to welcome in a bride on her wedding day. Still, everyone stood all the same.

(they got it then)

In the Good Friday church service tonight, the pastor talked about Jesus’ sacrifice. What else can you talk about on Good Friday? We talked about a crown of thorns being pressed down over Jesus’ forehead. We talked about how a man was mocked, flogged, nailed to a cross, and impaled.  We talked about how all this was done to Him not because of anything He had done or hadn’t done, but because they didn’t believe He was who He said He was.

Quick aside: I wonder what people outside of the church must think when we start to wax eloquent about this topic. Does it sound as morbid as I think it sounds? Look – I’ve been going to church for twenty years. If I know anything, I know that we use way more blood metaphors than is probably healthy.

But the thing about the story of Jesus is that just where it gets morbid, hopeless, and dark, it gets brilliantly bright. Jesus is alive. That’s why Easter is a celebration.

When the singing started again, there was a burst of energy in the mood. People danced and laughed and cried. As we slipped into the chorus of the song, our pastor asked everybody to raise their hands as a sign of surrender to God; I swear, arms went up so fast anyone would have thought they were waiting for permission.

It wasn’t just some mob mentality. It wasn’t a tired group of people following orders. What happened tonight, and what has been happening for thousands of years when Christians get together, was a posture of reverence. It was a physical reaction to a spiritual sensation.

Bodily posture isn’t the moral of this story. It’s wonderful, and it’s a form of worship, but mental posture is where we really need to hold that respect. Everything we do comes from our attitude and our intentions. It’s really what all communication is about. How would your manner change if you were about to have a conversation with the person who created the universe with all its sunsets and birdsong and oceans and orange trees and mountains – and then felt it just as necessary to create you? The person who loved you so much He died for you?

Someone I want to be when I grow up once said, “You will never fail to meet God if you bring Him with you.” It’s worth a mention that God does not groan about having “just gotten comfortable” when you ask Him to come along. So why are you hurting yourself? Why are you waiting to be better before moving forward?

The work is done. The battle is over. Jesus already won.  Even as you think it’s gotten too dark to see, it’s about to be too bright to take. It’s only Friday. To borrow a phrase used by hopeful people the world over, Sunday is coming.

I don’t mean to shove a sermon in your face because I know I’m not qualified to do that. What I do know is that my posture needs work; in a world that has been slouching for years past and for years to come, I want to encourage all of us to stand up straight.

Your posture of reverence may well look different from mine (and I’ve got a bad habit of peeking, so I’ll know when it does), but the important thing is that we have that reverence and let our worship come from it.

One last thing before you go: Happy Easter! Here’s to Jesus and eating chocolate until we’re sick.

There Has to be a Reasonable Explanation | One Nerdy Turn Deserves Another Vol. 5

[Historical context -my birthdays: 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. jen’s birthdays: 20, 21, 22, 23]

You know Jennifer, sisters are known for being able to speak in a series of jokes only they understand or being able to communicate through glances. I’m stoked that we’ve gotten to experience that over the last couple decades – but I’m particularly stoked that now you know what I’m talking about when I mention such well-loved TV episodes as “the one with exploding pus” and “the hate him, wouldn’t want to date him one with witches.”

Under the circumstances, I can think of no better way to celebrate your birthday than with X-Files. Can you? No, you can’t. Do you want to know why?

My girl is so right. Let’s go.

Jen, look at you hitting that twenty-four-year mark! You’re absolutely killing it.

…

Yeah, I could only briefly look for a gif to match that phrase.

I have to draw lines, I really do. This is a birthday, and a birthday calls for something more cheerful than gifs about alien deaths. Wholesome images! Images about life and its possibilities!

By the way, I love what you’ve done with yours. Even if Jen-smiling-in-front-of-a-lighthouse has pretty much become a meme back here in the Beaver state, we’re always so happy to see pictures of your cute face.

For your birthday, I’m gonna get you so many things. I’m gonna get you Moana. I’m gonna get you something yummy to eat. I’m gonna get you to look at this gif.

Best present of all, right? Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh haha wow I have to stay on topic. What was this post about? You? I think so. Let’s talk about you! Let’s talk about how you’ve spent the last 24 years being a top notch 10/10 human being. You make people comfortable, and you make them laugh, and for that everyone who knows you would like to thank you.

 

It’s weird to have you so far away. I hope you’re making good choices without me to keep you in check with regular Doctor Who nights and that one pancake recipe I know. If you ever feel unsure, just don’t forget what you learned in Oregon before California ever got its paws on you.

If you ever do lose your way and get yourself in trouble, just be honest.

Keep working hard, taking it easy, smiling, and trying new things. Who knows what you’ll see?

Jesus loves you, I love you, and frankly, I don’t think California can resist loving you. At the end of the day, what more could anyone want?

You’re 24 today. One more time – Happy birthday. Don’t forget to treat yourself, kiddo.

13.1k Likes

You know what’s scary? How big the internet is. It’s huge. It’s so huge, there’s no way to definitively measure it and have that figure be accurate for long.

So if you misplace a webpage and it doesn’t come up on the first page of google, it can feel like misplacing a child in Ikea.

When you lose something on the internet, you have two options. One is defeatist:

“I’m definitely never going to find that ever ever again,”

and one is blindly confident:

“I KNOW IT’S OUT THERE.”

This uncomfortable choice of attitudes will lead people to take all sorts of precautions. I myself, over the period of a couple months, chose to bookmark every webpage or I ever enjoyed or thought I might enjoy at some point.

That worked until I had to scroll through pages as long as the Count of Monte Christo to find that one gif I liked four days ago. I still haven’t deleted them all and honestly, I barely have the energy to try.

A lot of websites include a “like” function that lets you save things for later. What a thoughtful idea! Until you have 13.1 thousand likes and you know you put something in there just, like, a week ago that would totally come in handy right now if onLY YOU COULD FIND IT

I once searched for a specific comment on a Reddit thread for an intensely focused thirty minutes. This wouldn’t even be that bad, but I was at a party at the time. I was literally talking with someone at a party and interrupted myself to pull out my phone and say, “No wait, I’ve got to find it first.”

(Honestly that story makes the potentially well-balanced adult inside of me cry)

I once searched for a specific recipe for two and a half years before I found it. Given, it wasn’t near as intense a search as it was for the elusive reddit comment. But I started searching the day after I enjoyed a hastily-found internet recipe at a friend’s house, and I finished a year and a half after she had moved on, gotten married and moved house.

It wasn’t even all that good a recipe, to be honest. Not enough seasoning.

Anyway, my point is that I totally bookmarked that page anyway. I still have it bookmarked, just in case I want to relive a mediocre meatball experience in a weak effort to recapture a day that is now almost four years ago.

Because losing things is terrifying.

Webpages and images like the ones that I “like” on tumblr are supposed to be silly little nodes of entertainment, but whether or not I can find them again is still supposed to be something under my control and, though I screw up most of the things that are under my control, I still want something to be charge of, and if all that is is a difficult guitar tab for a song I no longer enjoy, then so be it, that thing is staying in my favorites folder until a sun flare burns up my laptop.

Losing things is terrifying. Letting go of unimportant things is meant to be this liberating experience, but it makes me feel like I’m dumping valuables in the trash and ever waiting for someone to come around and say

“Where did [insert thrown away item here] go?”

“Oh, that. I tossed it because I am unspeakably bad at processing consequences.”

This is a vivid example of why nostalgia is very threatening to me. Nostalgia is a sort of homesickness for a home that is no longer yours, because time is always going on. There are places and times you’re never going to return to, and that sounds so hopeless to me.

But it can’t be hopeless, can it? Nothing is really hopeless, even though I tell myself they are. After all, if I was able to go back and work in a moment I’d lived before, I would destroy it. (That’s kind of how I do) I would graffiti it with my escapist attitude and it would never be the same. As it is, I get new moments all the time. I’m making new mistakes because I know not to make the old ones.

I will have my new moments and I will make them what my old ones couldn’t be. I’ll get over the website I found mildly entertaining a couple of months ago. Not everything is in reality what it is in hindsight – and that’s okay.

To be clear, I’m not going to close this edit-post window and clear out all my bookmarks immediately. I am, however, going to delete a couple at a time. And you know what? I’m still going to save the meatball recipe, because they were fun to make, and I really believe I can make them tastier. Because all my moments are new ones, and things can keep getting better as long as I can keep trying to improve things.

Have a really good day, and please, for the love of your sanity, keep all your bookmark folders full of important things.

Thanks

Pro Tip: Being gracious is one of the best habits you can procure.

Here’s the thing.

My beloved and utterly adorable niece is recently two years old. She’s decided to forgo any food that’s not yogurt or cake. Her favorite hobbies include saying “play toy?” three hundred times in a row when her parents are about to fall asleep. On occasion, she’ll find a smooth stone and pull a David and Goliath with the nearest on-looker.

But let me tell you something about my niece – she will always say “please” and “thank you” right on cue, and suddenly the entire room is on its knees. 

Repetitions of “awwww” echo around the room and the person who has most recently suffered her biblical slingshot attack sits up and whispers, “so polite!”

Obviously, this does not translate directly into the language of those over the age of five, but you still get what I’m saying. People notice when you are kind. Given, common courtesy is an easily learned habit, but being gracious, especially when it’s not necessary, is so far beyond delightful.

Today is Black Friday, a day whose blood-curdling screams can be heard in the nightmares of retail workers all over.

Due to my timing, it seems like being nice to your cashiers and shelf-stockers is the obvious moral for this post, and sure, that’s important too. Customer service workers have more internalized anger than anyone I’ve ever met, and if you can’t find it in your heart to respect them, then feel free to turn it around and fear them instead.

Being gracious should be something that comes naturally to all of us in any case, not just to the dreaded customer service workers. We have a lot to be thankful for.

Yes, the world has a lot of trash going on it right now. A lot. I don’t want to downplay that. Life isn’t easy for anyone, and the difficulty scale goes from hard to dang near impossible. That is actually life. But look at this bad boy real quick.

THINGS YOU HAVE

---

• A God who provides for you and is more in love with you than you can imagine
• A mind that is capable of an infinite amount of magnificence that still needs to be enacted in the world
• Interests and passions that are not silly, but instead make up the road map to your life calling
• People who care about you and love you more than you think you deserve
• That gorgeous face of yours that I know has caused a lot of smiles
• I don’t know, do you have a dog or a cat or something? Tell it that it’s beautiful for me please
• This generation AND HEAR ME OUT HERE I know it’s not even close to perfect, but it’s yours, you’re a piece in it, and you get a voice in how it progresses and if you don’t think that’s the tightest thing ever, then get on out of my face
• A world of bread products, just think about it
• Think of all the bread you are capable of producing
• So much bread
• And hey, if you’re gluten-intolerant, that’s cool too, you are still super duper important 

Dear friends, if you don’t have any of that, A) I don’t believe you, and B) fine then, you can still be thankful for the Star Wars: The Force Awakens teaser, then can’t you?

(yes. yes you can.)

Thanks to all of you who stopped by.

Happy Black Friday, and happy Thanksgiving from now on!

Dreamboat Eyes

I’ve told you before how much I love A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’engle.

I’ve definitely already discussed my adoration for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

So as I’ve just recently returned from a trip to OSF to see A Wrinkle in Time adapted for the stage, we can safely assume that I have no plans to ever stop talking about the experience ever ever.

That’s what this post is for. You’ve been warned.

This was a Christmas gift from my sister Jennifer, so she was my traveling buddy this time around. Therefore, she was the designated receiver of slaps and elbow nudges.

(When I get excited, I have the unfortunate propensity to physically attack the nearest human being. It’s totally endearing.)

We walked into the Angus Bowmer. Slap. Slap slapslapslap.

Calvin walked on stage. Nudge. nudge nudgenudGENUDGENUDGE ELBOW STAB.

(Jen is has to be a good sport.)

As the actors milled about the stage [see also: taunting us] waiting for the play to begin, Calvin lay down and and began to practice his spin with the basketball in the air. And it hurt me a little. I played basketball until ninth grade, so I have experienced that particular drill too many times to not be nervous watching someone else do it. (Dropping the ball can go so wrong. Eventually, that basketball is either headed for your nose, the sloshiest part of your gut, or, by some ill-intentioned miracle, three hundred feet away. I found that each one happened to me with the same frequency.) So when Calvin actually did drop the ball and had to do the scramble of shame to go grab it, I felt that we connected.

It doesn’t take much. I make a lot of friends with people who are unaware of our friendship.

After all, he was dressed like a Weasley, and they’re a friendly bunch for the most part.

When the lights lowered and the play began in earnest,  the actress playing Charles Wallace opened up a copy of A Wrinkle in Time and read aloud,

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

It felt like reading the book. Every cast member eventually filed out, each one alternately reading a line or two of the introduction and helping Meg (Alejandra Escalante) act it out. We quickly met her mom, saw the rumors about her dad, understood her sibling relationships, and absolutely felt her pain and confusion. The only thing that went through my mind in between the gaps of adoring thoughts for the beloved characters, I had only thoughts of adoration for the actors.

I have been way too excited for this play from the very beginning. Of course it started when I heard it was going to exist. I mean –

• Favorite book
• Favorite festival
• Favorite medium of entertainment

And then I found out  Joe Wegner was cast – the fantastic actor who, evidently, was born to play Calvin. Then Alejandra Escalante, the talented, perfectly-cast, and adorable Juliet from OSF 2013. Mark Bedard, the amazing man whose voice I’ve had a crush on since She Loves Me 2010, and Dan Donahue, the marvelous actor whom I’ve been missing since Hamlet 2010, and Kate Hurster, the spectacular actress whom I have seen in possibly every single OSF play for the past five years. (no complaints. That lady is Wonder Woman)

 

The dialogue was verbatim from the book.  Mrs. Whatsit, Mrs. Who, and Mrs. Which were represented perfectly and adorably. The affection every character felt for the others was almost tangible. I adored every bit.

But like any spectacle-sporting girl who’s ever enjoyed a romantic comedy, one of my favorite scenes had to be in the twins’ vegetable garden, after Meg’s brief homework session with Calvin.

I mean, come on. Any scene that has the opener,

“Jeepers. Your braces sure shine in this moonlight,”

Is going to be a good one.

I admit to [and embrace] every drop of cliche associated with the following, but seeing as I blushed when I read the scene for the first time, you can imagine how I reacted when Perfect-for-Calvin Joe Wegner clumsily wiped off Meg’s glasses and  announced,

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you without your glasses. You’ve got dreamboat eyes.”

I kid you not, the entire audience collapsed into giggles like a classroom of second graders.

Meg’s reaction was just as priceless.

Nothing better.

And this is coming from someone who is fiercely in love the book. A book adaption is almost always a little bit of a disappointment. In fact, I was certain, going in, that they would try to find a way to squirm out of doing Mrs. Whatsit’s transformation. I was preparing myself to mourn its absence, but I didn’t really blame them in advance. Because how could you portray that onstage? That’s ridiculous. They can’t do that.

They did do that.

Short version: I loved this play. The whole audience seemed to. That affection is precisely why it had to be perfect, and also why it was. Wrinkle in Time is a story about love and how it destroys obstacles.

Mrs. Whatsit loved Meg into a solution for her problem. Meg loved Charles Wallace out of his enslavement. Calvin loved Meg out of her loneliness. The whole Murry family is held together by love, and the love needs to be almost corporeal in such a production, for both the original story, and for the audience. It was. I felt like I had received a hug from everyone involved in it.

I’m not even certain how to properly describe it.

You should just go watch it instead.

Language Tutoring

I don’t speak sports.

I feel so un-worldly when I’m reminded of this.

Whenever the people around me start speaking fluent sports, and I have to be the stereotypical girl going, “Sorry, could you say that slower?”

The recentish Superbowl and currently-unfolding Olympics are good examples. At the Superbowl, I casually rooted for the Seahawks and was casually delighted when they grinded the Broncos into a pulp, but I can’t say I watched any more than ten seconds of the game at a time.

(Actually, I think I speak for a couple other people out there when I say the only reasons I tuned in for Superbowl Sunday were the Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, and Tom Hiddleston In A Helicopter Drinking Tea Superbowl trailers.)

“A stiff upper lip is key.”

With the Olympics, my response is rather similar. I mean, of course I’m watching events and rooting for the USA.

(I’m not a terrorist)

The whole concept of the Olympics is magnificent, and nobody really disagrees with said fact (cough*terrorists*cough). But I do wish I got more pumped about the whole spectacle – I think it comes to down to an altogether lack of plot.

But some people, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you know a few of what we call homo sapiens, really, really like sports. Everyone has an area of expertise as far as conversation goes, and a certain sports and/or sports is a very common one.

Take pastors, for example. They, like everyone, have their own areas of expertise. I had one several years ago who liked to throw up clips from Men in Black and Lord of the Rings when he thought it helped his point, and even if it didn’t exactly, I always enjoyed those Sunday mornings.

However, a different pastor, a guest speaker at my church a couple weeks ago, is one of those sports fans we’ve heard so much about, and half of his sermon was a football analogy. I tracked, but I was pretty grumbly about the whole ordeal, mentally griping at him about his connecting with a few people at the cost of alienating others (And obviously, this whole “church” institution is for me alone, so he should clean up his act).

And then I realized something truly horrific.

This. This is what people must feel like when I make a fandom reference.

That, my friend, is a serious problem.

I don’t worry about that on here, of course, if you can’t stand my subject choice, you can feel free to close the web page anytime you please – but in real life, I have indeed been annoying in this way before.

Shocker, isn’t it.

At least pastors don’t hunt me down, open a conversation with an obscure football reference and then proceed to tell me to at least try football because “OHMYGOSH it’s so good, it’s got these really complex players, and you never know what’s going to happen next, and when you start to love it you can come to my house and we’ll have a football marathon, eat football-themed foods, tell each other football-themed pick-up lines, and we’ll collectively try to convert more and more people to our cult fanbase!”

It’s like looking into a terrible football-flavored mirror.

See now, I say that football is the opposite of things I understand.

But I think I understand the people who love it way more than I ever meant to.

I once shared an airplane flight with a kid who adored golf, and when he found out the in-flight entertainment was free viewing of the golf channel, he was ecstatic. I remember trying my darnedest to detect hints of sarcasm.

I mean, excited about golf? Excited about watching golf? He even mumbled, as he set up his iPad to watch the channel, “it’s kind of the only reason I would watch TV.”

Oh, cool, I thought, there goes hours of my best conversation fodder.

Which makes me sad.

What I do speak, I speak rather well. However, as a friend of the family put it best,

“… my second language is just speaking louder.”

You don’t want to talk about my favorite pieces of story-telling? Um, then *ahem* DO YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY FAIR LADY? OR WOULD YOU RATHER HEAR ABOUT SCIENCE FICTION HEY COME BACK

I have found myself being a jerk about a lot of things that other people love, but I never cease to be frustrated and hurt when people are jerks about what I love.

That’s a little bit backward.

For those predispositions to even out, I need to change one.

I don’t know if any of you share this cross with me, but if not, that’s okay – this has mainly been a stern slap across the wrist for myself.

I need to learn a couple other languages.

And Many More

365 days ago, as Wipeout chirped from the television in the empty living room across the hall, I sat cross-legged in my room and grinned at my computer.

I picked up my phone to text my mom and let her know that a staggering twenty people had clicked their way onto my blog.

As an afterthought, I let her know that, by the way, I started a blog.

Happy birthday, Freak of Fandom.

She’s grown so much since that February 6th with one post, one page, one view, and a low-quality header portraying a smiling weeping angel.

Exhibit A

(I have no idea why I thought that image would invite people in)

How time flies. Still, I shouldn’t get too carried away in the celebration just yet – it’s important to make sure that my blog is healthy and progressing normally. For this purpose, I turn to the internet’s incorporeal pediatricians –

What are some of the developmental milestones my child should reach by twelve months of age?

“From eight to twelve months of age, your [blog] will become increasingly mobile, a development that will thrill and challenge both of you. Being able to move from place to place will give your [blog] a delicious sense of power and control—her first real taste of [virtual] independence.” ~ healthychildren.org

I am really not sure I trust my young blog with anything so enticing and dangerous-sounding as a “delicious” sense of power – but I suppose she did get a bit of a taste, maybe this past December with the Time of the Doctor trailer breakdown that got over 1200 hits the day it was published (1000 more than I’d ever gotten before).

More developments to expect in a healthy child blog:

Language Milestones

• Pays increasing attention to speech
• Responds to “no”
• Babbles with inflection
• Tries to imitate words
• Repeats sounds or gestures for attention

She seems to be on track. I like to think she’s doing rather well in the first milestone, but maybe not spectacular in the second; however, she does the next three items almost exclusively (never really stops), so it sort of averages out.

Growing up so fast.

This outlet has been here to document a truckload of my reality-based events – my DC trip, the chronicles of my first bow hunt and first real job, and that time I totally dissed a rainbow for wifi (still kind of annoyed with myself about that).

And of course, the force of the fiction has been strong with this one as well – Freak of Fandom has carried me through the end of Lizzie Bennet Diaries and the start of Emma Approved, the break-up and make-up between me and Once Upon a Time, the anticipation and aftermath of Sherlock season three, and far, far too many instances of  me quoting River Song’s “spoilers” and thinking I was still being original and cute.

But the coolest thing about this is the people I have gotten to connect with.

You guys.

You are beyond fabulous. Some of you I knew before the blog, some of you I met in the midst of the blog, and some of you through it – but you guys are all awesome, and your encouraging words never ever go unappreciated.

I am so honored that any of you would choose to hold my hand through this process.

God bless you lovelies, and thank you all so very, very much!

(By the way, mom, I know it was you who clicked on my blog 1200 times in a row last December. Love you.)

All that’s left now is to gear up for another year, and, as ever, be of good cheer, dear friends.

(Music helps)

Happy birthdays and unbirthdays to everyone!