First page of the Joey archive.

one cigarette

Posted by jessica on Oct 28, 2009 with No Comments
in Funny Stuff, Performance, Thoughts and Feelings
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Tonight I was backstage signing posters for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids when my friend Joey told me I had to read something. I made some dumb joke in response and he reiterated that I really had to read it.

Okay, I will, I said nonchalantly, most of my energy going to making that large J followed by a lot of squiggles and the even larger L followed by yet more squiggles. Yes, my signature needs work. But it’s not work I like to do, not when there are 100+ posters a pop yet again staring me in the face.
But Joey was not taking no for an answer, Now. You need to read it now.
Well I’m busy doing something for people with AIDS, what are you doing? After informing me that he had already signed those posters and done his part, I decided to humor him and read what had gotten his attention.
I present: fan mail.
Well not exactly fan mail, I guess.
Okay, not even close.
Here goes…
To Whom It May Concern:

I am a 29 year old female who loves attending your Broadway through Canada productions. I was appalled to smell cigarette smoke during “A Chorus Line” during the Saturday, October 17 show in the afternoon. There were comments coming from one of the actresses during the show saying she needed a smoke break, but then she didn’t leave the stage so I figured that was it, and it was just part of her character. But then a while later she lit up on the stage.

In today’s world of anti-smoking campaigns and the fight against cancer, I was surprised that she didn’t just “act-out” the smoking, but that she actually “smoked” a real cigarette. The part that disturbed me the most was that we were sitting in the 4th row of the mezzanine and we could actually smell the cigarette smoke a few minutes later.

I realize that it’s one cigarette and no, one cigarette isn’t going to kill me, but the point is that we should be allowed to attend these performances in a smoke-free environment, right?

Then they had the nerve after the show to ask us to donate money to some of their charities–one of them being for cancer.

When my friends and colleagues asked me how I liked “A Chorus Line” I didn’t tell them about the actors, dancing, or singing. I told them about how I was at the NAC and I could not believe that I had smelled cigarette smoke during the show.

So there it is. Yowza. I can maybe see where she is coming from, and I don’t know–perhaps somebody she loved passed away from lung cancer, making any smell of smoke instantly give her a visceral reaction that encompasses all.
Or maybe she just doesn’t get the idea of story.
Of characters that make that story come to life.
Or of the fact that we are depicting a story that involves dancers in the seventies and let me tell you, a lot of them smoked. In fact, a lot of them did a lot more than smoke and the fact that one lone cigarette (which is herbal, by the way, and if anyone cares at all) made it into a scene is pretty tame in comparison to what could be there.
Not that I am saying that cigarettes are cool or good for you or that I am buying them for my nieces and nephews for Christmas. No, I actually hate the smell too. But this cigarette is a part of Sheila’s story. She’s a stressed out, jaded, aging dancer who’s talking about the business and how precarious it is. She lights up. Because it’s part of her character. It’s what Sheila would do.
Therefore the actress who plays Sheila does it.
See, story–any good story–is not just about perfection or always making the right choices or how one day you baked a cake and then walked your dog, though those are two perfectly lovely things to do and if you ever want to bake a cake for me and then invite me to walk your dog, I am totally in. But story involves conflict. It’s creating scenes that are memorable. Sheila lighting up during the alternative scene–actively portraying her need to de-stress in what is supposed to be the great conflict or climax of A Chorus Line–makes sense. And obviously, it’s memorable since it’s the freaking only thing this young lady even mentioned to anyone who asked her about the show: that cigarette.

Even the Bible is totally offensive in some places. Because it tells a story of humans and let’s face it, we mess up. A lot. But, it’s memorable. It’s not tame-not at all–but it sticks, because the stories talk about everything, the good and the bad, making it authentic. It tells about the screwing up and the grace that comes afterward.
And well, the cigarette? It’s a part of the story that we are telling every night.
And no, the point of the cigarette is not that we think everyone should smoke because shriveled lungs are so cool; the point of the cigarette is to show that Sheila, like all of the rest of us, is scared. Worried about the future. Wondering where the next job, the next paycheck will come from.
And honestly, simply talking about it is something, yes; but there’s power in showing it.
And come on, ONE cigarette at the very end of the show made her forget about the hilarity that is SING?!?!
Okay, just joking.
But seriously, a lot of other good stuff goes on during that two hours; I have a hard time believing it was all trumped by that cigarette. It must have been the fact that it was herbal–those things pack a punch.

on running and hope and collars.

Posted by jessica on Aug 5, 2009 with No Comments
in Funny Stuff, photography, Thoughts and Feelings
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Hi my name is Jessica. You could take out a piece of paper and pen right now and write down a list. No wait, since you’re obviously on your computer, you could just type a quick one out–one that entails all of the things I do. Like, on a regular basis. And sure, it would probably be kind of long. And you might even find some more obscure activities on it like

  • swimming with manatees

or even

  • losing my marriage license

But I can assure you that even if this list were comprehensive and exhaustive (which I assume just means that it is so thorough that you are totally exhausted by the time you finish it. right?okay, maybe not), it would not ever say

  • running

Which is why I thought it was a great idea to just up and do a 5k today. Sure, most people train for these kinds of things, but me? Hey, well just a few months ago I wasn’t feeling so hot so I ran right to the trash can in time to throw up a vitamin I had taken–that went pretty well–why not try for a 5k?

Sounds about right.
So here is me and my sister Jenna,
after having successfully completing it and actually running about half of it, I’d say, though that may be a generous estimation.
I strive to be generous at all times, you know?
And right when I felt like it was really the pits, my sister sort of saved the day by offering me half her ipod earbuds (which would be one of them, for those of you not quite so adept in math or the basic knowledge of how many ears a human has), and we both listened to some N’SYNC. Old school. Dirty Pop.
It helped us pick up the pace and reminisce about the time we saw N’SYNC at the Vet in Philly. It was Jenna’s first concert ever and I have to admit, watching Joey Fatone get stuck in the air, just suspended and trying to pretend that’s what was supposed to happen was entertainment, folks. Maybe not at it’s best, but still, it was pretty good. The jig was up, though, because all of his boy band mates were already dancing on their respective mechanical bulls (yes, that’s what I said), and there was poor Joey, doing those hand motions with his feet dangling helplessly while his riderless mechanical bull bucked and jumped underneath him.
Yep, we knew, we were no dummies. And neither were the crew, since they were working their darnedest at getting Joey down and onto that bull where he belonged.
Oh, but the 5k.
We did it, that was the point, I believe.
I will probably be sore tomorrow, and by probably I mean definitely, but it was a good time and for a good cause (westside family health care).
Maybe I’ll do it again someday. And maybe I’ll, I don’t know, train.
Oh. And even though I don’t love Christmas shops all year round, I do love feeling like it’s Christmas in August. Which is why it was so nice that while I was going through my things, I was completely surprised by this wall hanging
that I had bought at Ten Thousand Villages last December and then promptly forgotten. First of all I love that store. Their ethics are great since they practice fair trade and this particular piece is from a group of wood crafters in El Salvador (yay El Salvador, land of my sister’s ancestors!!!).
But isn’t it lovely?
I love everything about it–the yellow, the sentiment, the flowers crawling along the letters on a meandering vine. Which is why I put it up. By myself. Even though Drew usually tells me to wait for him…And if I were to tell the whole story, the exhaustive story, I would say something like it took me a while and at one point I almost fell off the chair I was standing on but lucky for me the wall hanging fell instead. And there I was, hands and mouth full of nails and hooks and a hammer, helplessly watching the HOPE that was handcrafted by good honest El Salvadorans fall to the floor and promptly break so that it looked more like a really weird, half breed H followed, at least, by a good strong OPE.
But that wasn’t gonna cut it.
So I found some carpenter’s glue and put it right back together again and now all you can really see is a faint line, just a crack in the otherwise perfect veneer. But really, it makes the whole thing have more character as well as being that much more real since our HOPE isn’t born out of perfection, no, it’s a resilient sonofagun that persists in some mighty deep cracks and then keeps on going.
Sort of like our little Percy-girl’s dogged resistance to her adorable pink collar, though really, can you say dogged when referring to a cat? Probably not if you ask a cat. But see, tonight I discovered that she had not only taken the thing off,
she also tried to bury the evidence!