And just like that, I decided what was important to me at my wedding:
Cute shoes, a bird cage veil, and gifts for my wedding party.
I have forfeited flowers and tradition. I am DIYing boutonnieres and avoiding bachelorette bridal fiascos. I am reacting more strongly to this footwear than to the dress itself. There was a recent splurge and this angel is gonna wear some red shoes on her wedding day.
I originally found a cute wedding dress for $30 on Craigslist sold by this equally cute hipster chick. She told me, “I bought this and then I found a dress that suited me better.” There’s something about the human spirit that can’t turn down a $30 wedding dress that fits you, so I bought it. I tried it on without a mirror in their bedroom. Her cats judging me as they lounged on the bed. Me, struggling by myself to zip the dress on my own. The hipster couple waiting for me to exit their house as they were packing for their move the following week. I’m sure that’s what ever girl dreams of when she tries on her wedding dress, right? It did fit, and it was a completely acceptable wedding dress, but it was just a little… er…a little too wedding-y. Models make dresses look so much better. Also, this whole wedding planning experience and lack of emotional response to anything traditional convinces me I might just be a robot.
So I found a cocktail dress that’s more my style and decided to do the same favor by selling the dress for cheaps on the same site. I received a response a day later.
“Hi. Is the dress still available?”
“Yes! I’m only home a bit over the weekend, but you’re welcome to come over and try it on.”
That was easy. This dress has found a home, or at least another another indecisive bride with a nonexistent budget.
Then I received the next response:
Thanks for the response and how is your day going?, I’m buying this wedding dress for my daughter which her wedding will coming up soon .And i will be making the payment to you by {Money Order } as its the only way i can pay you at the moment, Because am presently out of states for a business Trip. .
Meanwhile i would more than appreciate if you can attach some pics of Dress for me to see, And as per the shipping I will make arrangement for the pick-up with my mover’s after payment have been received and processed by you. I have a reliable mover’s who will come over for the pickup after payment as been receive by you .I don’t mind offering you an extra $40.00 so you can keep the Dress in my favour .Kindly reply back with your,
Full Name,
Home OR OFFICE Address,
City,
State,
Zip Code.
where you want me to mail the payment So i can have my personal assistant mail the Money Order to you.and Also include your cell phone # where i can reach you at so i can call you via my V-Card immediately the payment is sent so you . Please take the posting off craigslist today and consider it sold to me..
I’ll be waiting for your swift response with the information for payment procedure today..
Regards
Ade C Lawrence
Sift Investment Ltd
Dang it…
“Sorry, cash and local pick ups only. Good luck,” I tell my new best friend on Craigslist.
It’s a pity. I’m sure Ade’s daughter would have loved that dress until she found another one that was more her style.
Workshops for the upcoming show, “Pancake Breakfast” prove satisfying and exciting.
Most ridiculous work week ever in the history of work weeks.
Our theater company takes its show to NYC Fringe and suggests you buy a ticket before it’s even more sold out. Because the first show kinda sorta sold out. Somewhere, a strange fan yells, “Boo-yah!”
Have a pretty big audition on Friday that has already been done by more heavy hitters than me. I equate that to meaning, “Just be yourself, because they’ll cast someone from Second City anyway,” and, “Let’s just study up for this one and not embarrass ourselves, okay?”
Also had a “Let’s see what comes of this” just-for-shits audition. The goal was to build up the film reel. The result: A less than stellar audition and experience points gained in the world of on-camera film auditions. Luckily it’s easily shake-offable.
We’ve entered the month and a half until the wedding phase and all its, “we can’t afford this, therefore we deem it unimportant” glory.
I’ve forgotten how to write songs with a guitar after playing a banjo for 3 months.
I’m desperately craving time to nurture my wounded creative side. To survive artistically until an essay or song idea surfaces, I’m making handmade boutonnieres. Which just makes me want to become a jewelry artist. Oh, and I also am saving up for a fancy digital camera because I want to be good at another thing that YouTube doesn’t care about.
The band from “That Sordid Little Story” will be performing outside of the theater world over Labor Day. The rock band will be performing on September 11th at Schubas. We’ll be finishing the recording and mixing the remaining songs (we already have 3 mastered for the 1st single, “In Poor Tense”) in October.
And so ends my pre-Xmas letter with a ridiculous amount of written air quotes.
I booked a commercial. One of those late night/mid-afternoon 18 to 30 seconds advertisements telling people to re-examine their life and go back to school.
“My life is a mess, then I found [insert college name].”
Literally. We did about six different versions each with a different college name. Then I listed three possible careers one could study. Cut. Three new careers. Cut. Three new careers… “Cardiovascular Sonography, Medical Billing and Coding… Video and Game Design.” Yes, it’s one of those kind of commercials. I’m changing lives, people. Probably at about 12:45 in the afternoon during an Oprah commercial break. I’ll take it. I have wedding cupcakes to pay for soon.
“Hey kid, are you like me and want pursue your passion with your free time but you’ve wracked up enough college and fun miscellaneous debt to keep you pinned down to a day time job that you can’t afford to quit? Yeah… no one cares, so here are some careers that you wished you had some desire to study so you could just be normal and move to the suburbs. Good luck with that welding degree. Hope you have a minor in accounting, you blissfully ignorant 18 to 22 year-old. Tell your loving and supportive parents they are committing acts of child abuse by attending those piano recitals of yours. You can’t solder rent, Pinocchio! Why don’t you just crochet a retirement fund while you’re at it?!”
It’s a little strange when you are essentially describing your own life in all its proud, artistic instability while being paid to tell someone in your same predicament that they shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing.
I feel like I’m constantly asking people to donate to some cause.
If anyone knows a benefactor who wants to swoop us up under their wing I promise I’ll stop.
It’s always me me me, see my show, I’m a jerk, blah blah blah.
Anyway…
To give back, I can offer discount tickets for Thursday-Saturday evening. Or if you want a comp for the Saturday 3:00PM matinee show, let me know. I know a guy who knows a guy.
Still selfish? I’m not good at this. Here’s a song from “That Sordid Little Story”.
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You can download the whole album here.
Introductions always warrant the same exchange:
“My name is Thea.”
“Thay-uh?”
“Tay-uh.”
“How do you spell that?”
“It’s spelled a little weird. T-H-E-A.”
“Thee-uh?”
“Yeah, but it’s pronounced Tay-uh.”
“Oh… That’s a pretty name.”
To eliminate the inevitable mispronunciation, I don the pseudonym “Jane” to well-meaning baristas.
My name is a doozy here in a country where the letters T-H should sound more like a raspberry than a hard T. I’ll generally correct you right away if I know we’ll have face time, but I’ve gone years not correcting people. It’s a good filter for telemarketers and I can’t bear to correct a dentist whom I don’t see more than six months between a name butchering.
Then, there are the bold individuals who have no clue if they’re saying it correctly yet and give it their all. The power of good customer service compels them. The man who works the front desk at the gym pretends to know my name, even though it’s very clear that the screen displays my identity once my card is scanned.
He is programed to say hello. He sees the spelling and his mouth wants to say something else because he senses it is different. He starts out friendly and strong, “Hi–” then the uncertainty takes over. The volume is affected–a defense mechanism–as if his body senses the impending mistake. His brain attempts to auto-correct itself, desperately going back and forth between the conflicting letter sequence, resulting in an unsuccessful cross breed of a name.
“Hi, Thaaaeh-aeh,” he says as if exhaling with an inebriated camel tongue too big for his mouth. ”Have a good work out!” Nice recovery, Chucko, but I hate working out.
“How’d you’re parents come up with the name?”
“They said they had boring names so they named me Thea.”
“It’s a very pretty name.”
“It’s a pretty name, yes, but it makes you have to be assertive.”
“Is it short for anything?”
“No.”
“It looks like it should be ‘Thee-uh’.”
“Yes. Yes, it does.”
From back-handed positive reviews, to luke warm appreciative statements, to ready to give up their first born to see our show on Broadway, the reviews are in for “That Sordid Little Story.” We are Jeff Recommended, and I think folks are digging these here bluegrass tunes we’re supplying them.
And as usual, it sure is nice for the support, so if you want to stop by the Viaduct at 7:30PM on a Thursday-Saturday, well, we’d love to play you a few tunes for your ear holes.
(photo by Anne Petersen)
Note to self:
Learn to say no. Do not agree to do an audition that will require you to do amazing feats of strength you have not attempted since you were 12. It does not matter if you casually work out, your body will be different now that you are over thirty.
Result: I’m nervous about being unprofessional tomorrow when I’m supposed to do a handstand on camera… and as I found out tonight while I was “practicing,” I am very unskilled at doing a handstand.
Hopeful wishes made of fairy dust: They’ll allow me to do a headstand and my agent won’t be too pissed at me.
I was wooed by sweet rock n’ roll last weekend.
We are adults. We don’t get the fame of a teenie-bopper vampire movie. To reach cult status would be second-guessed as ironic and surprising. But we, the royal we, our royal we’s hearts, are floored and overwhelmed by the power of music and its effect on our entire being.
And we’re fine with being an idiot. Things make sense to us in this strange world.
We adjust to being poor. And we keep doing what we’re doing because there’s no other way. We are meant to be in this world.
We become acclimated with every dusty green room we hole up in before taking the stage. We tolerate and enjoy playing rock music in 85 degrees, smoky dank churches, with floors slick from spilled alcohol. We feel sweat make its way down our forehead and hang on our eyelashes and enter our mouths as we sing. That sweat coats the back and rains from our bodies as the chorus reprises. We look at underage spazzes being inspired by thrashing guitar riffs and a chance at ingesting a secret beer. We power through as strings break, arms flail, mics fall, amps are unplugged, bodies tumble to the floor, feet are stomped, balance is lost, drinks are dropped, voices are lost, levels are off, tuning strays… We carry on.
This week I’m volunteering at a rock camp for girls. I’m sure they’ll inspire me even more as I teach them about what inspires me.
A fun little viddy-ditty ’bout a little show we’re doin’ by a great guy named Jay Patton.
That Sordid Little Story Trailer from The New Colony on Vimeo.
SEE THIS FACE:
Sept. 4th - That Sordid Little Story @ The Elbo Room
Sept. 11th - The Nurse Novels @ Schubas
Contact: thea (at) thealux (dot) com