Finally some good news for a change. David Tennant is set to star in a comedy pilot for NBC titled Rex Is Not Your Lawyer. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/8339796.stm
Not only does this mean we have something to look forward to once his final Doctor Who episodes air early next year, it also means Mr. Tennant will be spending a substantial amount of time stateside if the show is picked up. I've been thinking pretty seriously about finishing with Los Angeles, but since this greatly increases the chances that David Tennant will show up at my local Starbucks soon, I guess I'm going to have to stay a while.
Showing posts with label David Tennant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Tennant. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Money and Happiness Revisited
The idea that money can’t buy happiness has come up again recently. I’m not really sure how this idea ever got so much traction in our society. I personally think it's absolutely absurd. Now if someone said money doesn’t equal happiness, I could agree with that. I don’t believe that money is either necessary or sufficient for happiness.
I know that money isn’t necessary for happiness because I grew up watching Little House on the Prairie. They didn’t have much in the way of material things and certainly they were happy. Not to mention some of my happiest moments in life have cost little, if any, money. If you ever have the opportunity, try this: some summer day get an old inner tube and float around in a lake. If you do have money for a cold beer, take that with you (you may not want to drink too much, the whole drowning thing is not conducive to happiness generally). This ranks fairly high in my happy moment memory bank and was virtually free. You probably have similar memories: the perfect sunset at the beach, a rainy day curled up with a cup of tea and good book (which you presumably borrowed from the library) ---you get the picture. I think we can agree that money is not necessary for happiness. Next we must ask if money is sufficient for happiness. Well, we’ve all read the tabloids, right? Apparently the rich and fabulous are not always happy. Having yet to experience being rich and fabulous I’m tempted reserve judgment, but I think we can be safe saying money is probably not sufficient for happiness.
Now we turn to the real question though. Money may not equal happiness, but can money buy happiness? Of course it can! Money doesn’t just buy material things (though it does and they can be lovely and often make me quite happy. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God and Steve Jobs for my iPod). Money not only buys things, it also buys experiences. Experiences, the little moments in life, are where we find our joy. Yes, many of the best ones are free, but some of the best ones are most certainly not. Many of the most amazing moments of my life cost quite a bit actually. For instance, one year ago today I was in Stratford-upon-Avon where I saw Patrick Stewart and David Tennant perform Hamlet. Not only was the play, which I had the good fortune to see twice, brilliant beyond my expectations, but the entire trip was a little festival of happiness just for me. I happen to love England and Stratford is one of my favorite places on earth because of my long-time super geeky devotion to all things Shakespeare. This was my third trip to Stratford, but my first time going it alone. I did not miss having company. Being on my own felt like the ultimate indulgence. For me being in England is like wrapping myself up in a fuzzy blanket and sitting in front of a fire. On my very first trip I found myself overwhelmed with emotion because of the illogical, yet unmistakable feeling that I had somehow come home.
Last year’s trip was one of the best trips I’ve ever taken anywhere and I was happier those few days in Stratford and London than I’d been in a long time. Fast forward 365 days and I’m at work in the Pit of Despair, feeling oppressed and miserable. The difference? Money. Quite simply I don’t have the money to do many of the things that give me the most pleasure in life including travel. The more money a person has, the more choices they have for how to spend their time and how to get the most enjoyment out of life. I’m not saying one can’t be creative and find ways of enjoying things for less, but I believe the bottom line is that many of life’s greatest pleasures (for me the list includes travel, education, wine, fine dining and theatre) are not free. This does not even take into consideration the obvious fact that, if you have enough money, you can buy your very freedom--freedom from the job you need, but don't love. I've come to realize it is an absolute truth that money can buy happiness. And a Marc Jacobs handbag.
I know that money isn’t necessary for happiness because I grew up watching Little House on the Prairie. They didn’t have much in the way of material things and certainly they were happy. Not to mention some of my happiest moments in life have cost little, if any, money. If you ever have the opportunity, try this: some summer day get an old inner tube and float around in a lake. If you do have money for a cold beer, take that with you (you may not want to drink too much, the whole drowning thing is not conducive to happiness generally). This ranks fairly high in my happy moment memory bank and was virtually free. You probably have similar memories: the perfect sunset at the beach, a rainy day curled up with a cup of tea and good book (which you presumably borrowed from the library) ---you get the picture. I think we can agree that money is not necessary for happiness. Next we must ask if money is sufficient for happiness. Well, we’ve all read the tabloids, right? Apparently the rich and fabulous are not always happy. Having yet to experience being rich and fabulous I’m tempted reserve judgment, but I think we can be safe saying money is probably not sufficient for happiness.
Now we turn to the real question though. Money may not equal happiness, but can money buy happiness? Of course it can! Money doesn’t just buy material things (though it does and they can be lovely and often make me quite happy. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God and Steve Jobs for my iPod). Money not only buys things, it also buys experiences. Experiences, the little moments in life, are where we find our joy. Yes, many of the best ones are free, but some of the best ones are most certainly not. Many of the most amazing moments of my life cost quite a bit actually. For instance, one year ago today I was in Stratford-upon-Avon where I saw Patrick Stewart and David Tennant perform Hamlet. Not only was the play, which I had the good fortune to see twice, brilliant beyond my expectations, but the entire trip was a little festival of happiness just for me. I happen to love England and Stratford is one of my favorite places on earth because of my long-time super geeky devotion to all things Shakespeare. This was my third trip to Stratford, but my first time going it alone. I did not miss having company. Being on my own felt like the ultimate indulgence. For me being in England is like wrapping myself up in a fuzzy blanket and sitting in front of a fire. On my very first trip I found myself overwhelmed with emotion because of the illogical, yet unmistakable feeling that I had somehow come home.
Last year’s trip was one of the best trips I’ve ever taken anywhere and I was happier those few days in Stratford and London than I’d been in a long time. Fast forward 365 days and I’m at work in the Pit of Despair, feeling oppressed and miserable. The difference? Money. Quite simply I don’t have the money to do many of the things that give me the most pleasure in life including travel. The more money a person has, the more choices they have for how to spend their time and how to get the most enjoyment out of life. I’m not saying one can’t be creative and find ways of enjoying things for less, but I believe the bottom line is that many of life’s greatest pleasures (for me the list includes travel, education, wine, fine dining and theatre) are not free. This does not even take into consideration the obvious fact that, if you have enough money, you can buy your very freedom--freedom from the job you need, but don't love. I've come to realize it is an absolute truth that money can buy happiness. And a Marc Jacobs handbag.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
A Real Man
I’ve been watching Mad Men this season and loving it, of course. Loving Don Draper, of course. How could anyone not? He’s so handsome. I’ve actually wrestled a bit with my infatuation with Don because, objectively, he’s not a man I would want. He’s unfaithful. He keeps secrets. He’s dishonest. At the same time he exudes a quality that seems to have disappeared from men in the past 50 years. It’s hard to quantify, but the best I can say is that Don Draper is a real man. He is confident. He’s someone you would trust in a crisis. He’s strong. He doesn’t go whining on about his troubles. I realize it is somewhat ironic that I frown upon whining since that’s pretty much all I do on this blog. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about that. Upon closer examination, it seems I’m probably most drawn to Don Draper because all the men I’ve ever dated have been boys. Never mind they were in their 30s. They were boys. I'm not sure there are any real men anymore. Perhaps none were born after 1960 in America. I’m guessing this doesn’t apply to the UK because David Tennant seemed suspiciously like a real man when I met him in spite of his boyish good looks! I look around the Pit of Despair and I don’t see any men. I see boys who make a tremendous amount of money and pretend to be men--the Pete Campbell’s of the world.
So what exactly are the qualities of a man? As I mentioned, I think a real man is confident (without being egotistical), good in a crisis and strong (I’m talking more about emotional strength here, but a certain amount of physical strength is nice too--there is the occasional jar that needs opening after all). They also need to be able to dress themselves and have appropriate clothes for all social situations. The man who doesn’t own a suit (a suit purchased in the past few years—not some ill-fitting thing his mom bought him ten years ago for his cousin’s wedding!) and can’t tie a tie, is not a man. A real man will be at ease in a variety of social situations. A real man can fly solo--guys who cling to their pack of buddies are boys. If he drinks, he drinks something serious. Real men do not drink fruity, girly drinks. BTW, bonus points for the man who can mix a real cocktail—Jack and Coke doesn’t count--I'm talking martini, gimlet, etc. Still, while these all seem to be qualities of a real man, I think there’s also an indefinable quality, a certain je ne sais quoi, which makes a man a man. Whatever it is, Don Draper has it in spades. And I love him for it.
So what exactly are the qualities of a man? As I mentioned, I think a real man is confident (without being egotistical), good in a crisis and strong (I’m talking more about emotional strength here, but a certain amount of physical strength is nice too--there is the occasional jar that needs opening after all). They also need to be able to dress themselves and have appropriate clothes for all social situations. The man who doesn’t own a suit (a suit purchased in the past few years—not some ill-fitting thing his mom bought him ten years ago for his cousin’s wedding!) and can’t tie a tie, is not a man. A real man will be at ease in a variety of social situations. A real man can fly solo--guys who cling to their pack of buddies are boys. If he drinks, he drinks something serious. Real men do not drink fruity, girly drinks. BTW, bonus points for the man who can mix a real cocktail—Jack and Coke doesn’t count--I'm talking martini, gimlet, etc. Still, while these all seem to be qualities of a real man, I think there’s also an indefinable quality, a certain je ne sais quoi, which makes a man a man. Whatever it is, Don Draper has it in spades. And I love him for it.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
10 Signs Your Life is Seriously Fucked Up
1) You've given serious consideration to setting yourself on fire in front of your mechanic's shop as a form of protest over taking your car in four times in five weeks. Okay, maybe you weren't that serious, but if this thought even occurs to you, I'm guessing it's a bad sign.
2) One of your closest friends says that meeting David Tennant was probably the best thing that's ever gong to happen to you. Oh sure, she tried to backpedal and denied that she meant that you had no hope for future happiness, but that's what she said.
3) There is mold growing underneath the linoleum in your bathroom.
4) You've decided to tell people you're divorced because it is so much less stigmatizing than saying you've never been married at your age. Never mind that your longest relationships (9 yrs., 6 yrs.) were actually longer than most marriages. People look at you sideways if you reach a certain age without ever having had the opportunity to blow thousands of dollars on a party celebrating your undying love for someone you eventually can't stand the sight of and engage in a nasty divorce battle (not that you're bitter or anything). Seriously, being divorced once meant you were damaged goods. Now it means you're normal while still single means there must be something really wrong with you.
5) You tried going to therapy, but your therapist yawned throughout the sessions. Apparently, even someone you were paying to listen to you found you boring.
6) Someone gives you a cats & books tote bag as a gift. (see old post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-stereotype.html)
7) Only six people read your blog.
8) Your way of "getting over" on the powers that be at work involves you working late and on the weekends so that you can keep billable hours for yourself now that the head office has been hording them.
9) Your reclusive friend who hates flying is actually game for attending the Toronto International Film Festival. You have mandatory meetings and training sessions you can't get out of.
10) You've come to the point where your only requirement for a potential partner is that he will drag the bins to the curb on trash day. Still no takers.
2) One of your closest friends says that meeting David Tennant was probably the best thing that's ever gong to happen to you. Oh sure, she tried to backpedal and denied that she meant that you had no hope for future happiness, but that's what she said.
3) There is mold growing underneath the linoleum in your bathroom.
4) You've decided to tell people you're divorced because it is so much less stigmatizing than saying you've never been married at your age. Never mind that your longest relationships (9 yrs., 6 yrs.) were actually longer than most marriages. People look at you sideways if you reach a certain age without ever having had the opportunity to blow thousands of dollars on a party celebrating your undying love for someone you eventually can't stand the sight of and engage in a nasty divorce battle (not that you're bitter or anything). Seriously, being divorced once meant you were damaged goods. Now it means you're normal while still single means there must be something really wrong with you.
5) You tried going to therapy, but your therapist yawned throughout the sessions. Apparently, even someone you were paying to listen to you found you boring.
6) Someone gives you a cats & books tote bag as a gift. (see old post: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-as-stereotype.html)
7) Only six people read your blog.
8) Your way of "getting over" on the powers that be at work involves you working late and on the weekends so that you can keep billable hours for yourself now that the head office has been hording them.
9) Your reclusive friend who hates flying is actually game for attending the Toronto International Film Festival. You have mandatory meetings and training sessions you can't get out of.
10) You've come to the point where your only requirement for a potential partner is that he will drag the bins to the curb on trash day. Still no takers.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
How I Met David Tennant, pt 2: Get in Touch with Your Inner Sydney Bristow
Now, where was I? Oh right, I'd just found out Kate had embraced her inner ninja and was actually inside the ballroom. Well, faster than I've ever moved before I was around to the other side of the room and easing myself inside. A couple of dozen people were milling around, but most had already gone into the party. I scanned the room. There was David Tennant about 20 feet away near the podium. Yellow shirt, red tie. Lovely. Kate was seated looking through one of the press packets that had been left behind. My first reaction was "I want that" because it had Dr. Who pictures. As I was grabbing one from the table behind me, it dawned on me that having these packets made it appear as though we'd been at the panel all along. Kate, already in full Sydney Bristow mode, had already figured that out. We picked up our press packets and made a bee line for David. A few feet away from the goal, Russell T. Davies spoke. Apparently, to us! He said "no. we're all going to meet outside for drinks." Apparently this was his way of saying "back off bitches." The British are so much more civilized. I didn't realize the comment was directed to us & was utterly confused when Kate said "oh sorry. thanks," stopped abruptly, turned around and walked back to the tables. She sat down saying "hold on I just need to take a note." I played along. "No problem. I'll wait with you," I said as casually as possible while trying to look bored and aloof (a move I learned from watching Burn Notice).
In a whisper I asked Kate if she thought we could get into the party. She thought we could as long as we didn't go through the doors near where we'd been loitering the past hour. That meant going through a doorway in which a BBC rep was standing, which seemed even worse. We would be coming out of the ball room and carrying press packets though, so we had a shot. At the moment I was just happy to be in the same room with David. The idea of actually crashing the BBC party made me entirely giddy! Kate suggested I talk about Doctor Who as we walked (having never watched the show she was ill-prepared for pretending to have just attended a panel discussion). I decided acting confident and walking quickly would be easier so, clutching our press packets to our chests to obscure the fact that we had no credentials, we strode out of the ballroom and across to the terrace. No one stopped us! We were officially in the party!
Kate suggested we grab a drink . I'd already spotted the wine guy--not only because, well, he was the wine guy, but also because he was very near the spot where David was standing. We each grabbed a glass of wine, then found a quiet corner so we could strategize. We agreed we needed to make our move and get out before someone realized we didn't have badges. As we made our way toward David, I felt more terrified than I ever had before. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I could actually hear blood rushing in my ears--who knew this actually happened? Halfway there I stopped. I was about to chicken out. Fortunately I had specifically told Kate she could not to let me chicken out no matter what so when I said "I guess I don't really need to talk to him" she said, "well, I'm going to" and continued in his direction. I followed close behind pretty sure I might black out at any moment. We walked straight up to him and Kate said "sorry to interrupt, but we need to take off..." And that's how we met David Tennant.
What's that? You want to know what we said to him? What he said to us? Ahhh, well, I had originally planned to give a detailed account of the conversation, but having had a while think about it I've decided to keep that for myself. You have been extremely patient though so here are some of the highlights. When Kate started talking to him, David leaned over (he's very tall--Kate not so much) and listened intently. She began with "this is going to sound strange given the circumstances..." A quizzical look--or was that panic?--flickered across David's face. In that moment I'm guessing he was thinking something along the lines of "oh no, she's going to ask to see my sonic screw driver" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her cat David" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her son David." Instead she finished with "but I really enjoyed Blackpool." This elicited a patented "well..." He later pointed out the Blackpool writer who was actually there--something we probably should have known since he was there for one of the other shows on the panel! Oops. Eventually, David turned to me and said hello as only he can. I introduced myself and told him how thoroughly I enjoyed his performance in Hamlet. Both Kate and I were impressed by how gracious and charming he was. He was also quite attentive and I will say that gazing into those amazing brown eyes was pretty spectacular.
Our mission having been accomplished, we got the hell out of there. I had a charity meeting to get to and, honestly, there was no reason to risk getting thrown out by security.
If I need cheering up, I just ask Kate to tell me about the time we met David Tennant. The adrenaline high was fantastic and lasted at least a week. Kate thinks I may take up bungee jumping now, but I have other ideas. Kate is now officially known as The Facilitator and crashing parties is a lot easier than I thought. I see tremendous potential and absolutely no need for bungees.
In a whisper I asked Kate if she thought we could get into the party. She thought we could as long as we didn't go through the doors near where we'd been loitering the past hour. That meant going through a doorway in which a BBC rep was standing, which seemed even worse. We would be coming out of the ball room and carrying press packets though, so we had a shot. At the moment I was just happy to be in the same room with David. The idea of actually crashing the BBC party made me entirely giddy! Kate suggested I talk about Doctor Who as we walked (having never watched the show she was ill-prepared for pretending to have just attended a panel discussion). I decided acting confident and walking quickly would be easier so, clutching our press packets to our chests to obscure the fact that we had no credentials, we strode out of the ballroom and across to the terrace. No one stopped us! We were officially in the party!
Kate suggested we grab a drink . I'd already spotted the wine guy--not only because, well, he was the wine guy, but also because he was very near the spot where David was standing. We each grabbed a glass of wine, then found a quiet corner so we could strategize. We agreed we needed to make our move and get out before someone realized we didn't have badges. As we made our way toward David, I felt more terrified than I ever had before. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I could actually hear blood rushing in my ears--who knew this actually happened? Halfway there I stopped. I was about to chicken out. Fortunately I had specifically told Kate she could not to let me chicken out no matter what so when I said "I guess I don't really need to talk to him" she said, "well, I'm going to" and continued in his direction. I followed close behind pretty sure I might black out at any moment. We walked straight up to him and Kate said "sorry to interrupt, but we need to take off..." And that's how we met David Tennant.
What's that? You want to know what we said to him? What he said to us? Ahhh, well, I had originally planned to give a detailed account of the conversation, but having had a while think about it I've decided to keep that for myself. You have been extremely patient though so here are some of the highlights. When Kate started talking to him, David leaned over (he's very tall--Kate not so much) and listened intently. She began with "this is going to sound strange given the circumstances..." A quizzical look--or was that panic?--flickered across David's face. In that moment I'm guessing he was thinking something along the lines of "oh no, she's going to ask to see my sonic screw driver" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her cat David" or "oh no, she's going to tell me she's named her son David." Instead she finished with "but I really enjoyed Blackpool." This elicited a patented "well..." He later pointed out the Blackpool writer who was actually there--something we probably should have known since he was there for one of the other shows on the panel! Oops. Eventually, David turned to me and said hello as only he can. I introduced myself and told him how thoroughly I enjoyed his performance in Hamlet. Both Kate and I were impressed by how gracious and charming he was. He was also quite attentive and I will say that gazing into those amazing brown eyes was pretty spectacular.
Our mission having been accomplished, we got the hell out of there. I had a charity meeting to get to and, honestly, there was no reason to risk getting thrown out by security.
If I need cheering up, I just ask Kate to tell me about the time we met David Tennant. The adrenaline high was fantastic and lasted at least a week. Kate thinks I may take up bungee jumping now, but I have other ideas. Kate is now officially known as The Facilitator and crashing parties is a lot easier than I thought. I see tremendous potential and absolutely no need for bungees.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
How I Met David Tennant, pt. 1: Pick the Proper Location
A few weeks ago I read a press release stating that David Tennant would be at Comic-Con, along with Russell T. Davies, to promote Dr. Who. My initial excitement quickly faded when I found out the passes were already sold out. After a few failed attempts at getting passes on eBay, I gave up. At my age I'd rather pay more and have a reserved seat than stand in line with 5000 crazed fans anyway. Besides, I knew David and RTD would also be doing a panel at the TCA Summer Press tour at a hotel in Pasadena. This was definitely more my style! Loitering around around a hotel lounge is an excellent way to spend an afternoon if you ask me. Even if I didn't catch a glimpse of David, I'd be having cocktails in a swell location--no downside there! I was able to find out the date and time of the BBC panel because, frankly, I know people who know people. (Thank you, Ms. X!) The next step was getting out of my job at the Pit of Despair the day of the panel, so I promptly came down with a virus of the 24 hour variety.
I felt alternately excited and, well, nauseous at the prospect of actually seeing David Tennant so I told myself it was probably a long shot as I headed to Pasadena Wednesday afternoon. When I entered the lobby bar I noticed a press conference was taking place on the veranda, but I was trying to act casual so I didn't look too closely. Instead, I found a comfy bar stool and ordered a mojito. I was just a sip or two into my drink when I heard the doors from the veranda opening and people leaving. I looked up just in time to recognize the bony backside of the man in the yellow shirt leaving the lounge, a glance up to confirm...yep, that's his hair. At that moment he turned slightly in conversation and I got a full profile view of David Tennant! Since I hadn't paid for my drink yet, I didn't run after him--having security called on me for dodging out on the tab seemed like it would make a bad (though memorable, I'm sure) first impression. Besides, I hadn't had enough liquid encouragement yet to actually speak to him. So I texted Kate, who was on her way to join me: "OMG. he just walked by me." The afternoon was off to a promising start!
I finished my drink and conducted some recon around the hotel without another sighting. When Kate arrived we decided our best shot was to wait around outside the ballroom before his panel started. After another mojito for courage, we took up our posts outside the ballroom, being sure to cover both entrances of course...and somehow managed to miss him going in! Perhaps we were distracted by the likes of Matt Damon and Paul Walker, both of whom happened to stroll by. Having recently watched four seasons of Alias, I was convinced we could probably get into the panel, but Kate felt it was too risky--and we all know Kate is not one to take risks. Or is she? Once the panel was in full swing and we'd decided against attempting to enter, we knew we'd need to wait until it ended for our chance. This is where our story takes a turn.
BBC America was hosting a cocktail reception immediately following the panel on a terrace adjacent to the ballroom. Guests would basically exit the ballroom directly into the reception. We thought we would catch a glimpse as he entered the party. When the panel ended I became worried he might actually exit from the opposite side and not go into the party so I sent Kate to stake out the other doors. A few minutes later I received the following text: "get over here now. i'm in the room."
I felt alternately excited and, well, nauseous at the prospect of actually seeing David Tennant so I told myself it was probably a long shot as I headed to Pasadena Wednesday afternoon. When I entered the lobby bar I noticed a press conference was taking place on the veranda, but I was trying to act casual so I didn't look too closely. Instead, I found a comfy bar stool and ordered a mojito. I was just a sip or two into my drink when I heard the doors from the veranda opening and people leaving. I looked up just in time to recognize the bony backside of the man in the yellow shirt leaving the lounge, a glance up to confirm...yep, that's his hair. At that moment he turned slightly in conversation and I got a full profile view of David Tennant! Since I hadn't paid for my drink yet, I didn't run after him--having security called on me for dodging out on the tab seemed like it would make a bad (though memorable, I'm sure) first impression. Besides, I hadn't had enough liquid encouragement yet to actually speak to him. So I texted Kate, who was on her way to join me: "OMG. he just walked by me." The afternoon was off to a promising start!
I finished my drink and conducted some recon around the hotel without another sighting. When Kate arrived we decided our best shot was to wait around outside the ballroom before his panel started. After another mojito for courage, we took up our posts outside the ballroom, being sure to cover both entrances of course...and somehow managed to miss him going in! Perhaps we were distracted by the likes of Matt Damon and Paul Walker, both of whom happened to stroll by. Having recently watched four seasons of Alias, I was convinced we could probably get into the panel, but Kate felt it was too risky--and we all know Kate is not one to take risks. Or is she? Once the panel was in full swing and we'd decided against attempting to enter, we knew we'd need to wait until it ended for our chance. This is where our story takes a turn.
BBC America was hosting a cocktail reception immediately following the panel on a terrace adjacent to the ballroom. Guests would basically exit the ballroom directly into the reception. We thought we would catch a glimpse as he entered the party. When the panel ended I became worried he might actually exit from the opposite side and not go into the party so I sent Kate to stake out the other doors. A few minutes later I received the following text: "get over here now. i'm in the room."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Thursday, July 30, 2009
You Can Get It If You Really Want
So you may recall a little trip I took to England last year to see a play and how blown away I was by one David Tennant in the role of Hamlet. If you need a refresher, you can read all about it here: http://becauselifeisshort.blogspot.com/2008/10/full-english-breakfast.html.
Suffice it to say, I've been smitten with this lovely man ever since and, with apologies to Tom Baker, he's even become my doctor. Imagine how excited I was to find out he was going to be in Southern California this week. Now imagine how excited I was to meet him last night in Pasadena! Actually, I don't think you can imagine so I'm going to tell you all about the meeting (as well as all the ninja moves my friend, Kate, and I made to make it happen) in glorious detail here. I'm editing the post even now. Meanwhile, remember that you can get it if you really want!
Suffice it to say, I've been smitten with this lovely man ever since and, with apologies to Tom Baker, he's even become my doctor. Imagine how excited I was to find out he was going to be in Southern California this week. Now imagine how excited I was to meet him last night in Pasadena! Actually, I don't think you can imagine so I'm going to tell you all about the meeting (as well as all the ninja moves my friend, Kate, and I made to make it happen) in glorious detail here. I'm editing the post even now. Meanwhile, remember that you can get it if you really want!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Wasting Time at Work
In the past week I've been introduced to a couple of great time wasters and I wanted to share.
I admit there is a certain amount of schadenfreude here, but hey, it's nice knowing other people have it worse than you right? Anyway, check it out and I'm sure you'll be addicted like me. www.fmylife.com
I've also been wildly entertained by this site: http://www.stardoll.com/en/dolls/465/David_Tennant.html
What's not to love about a David Tennant doll you can dress up? Of course it really would be better if he came with more outfits. Still, it's a great way to pass the time when your job is boring you to tears.
I admit there is a certain amount of schadenfreude here, but hey, it's nice knowing other people have it worse than you right? Anyway, check it out and I'm sure you'll be addicted like me. www.fmylife.com
I've also been wildly entertained by this site: http://www.stardoll.com/en/dolls/465/David_Tennant.html
What's not to love about a David Tennant doll you can dress up? Of course it really would be better if he came with more outfits. Still, it's a great way to pass the time when your job is boring you to tears.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Okay, I'm Putting It Out There
A friend of mine, I'll call her Perky Patti, recently told me that I should not discount the possibility of hooking up with David Tennant because, in her words "stranger things have happened." Somehow I doubt it since David is known to date hot, young blonde girls and I'm well, not hot, not young, not blonde (spinster cat lady, remember?) Anyway, Perky Patti said I should just "put it out there." So, here I am putting it out there. Since I want to give the Universe a little wiggle room, I offer a description of the basic qualities I would want in a man generally--just in case Mr. Tennant is busy (with a blonde, I'm sure). You will note there are a number of caveats. At first glance this may seem like overkill, but I happen to know the Universe has a really wicked sense of humor. If you aren't really specific, the Universe will use it against you. Although I'm skeptical, here goes.
Dear Universe:
Please send me one British man. Must be gainfully employed, single, straight, free of STDs, well-educated, non-violent, of solid moral character, non-addicted, non-misogynist, non-ego maniac, non-nazi, non criminal, non-lunatic with common sense and a good sense of humor. Must enjoy travel, wine and/or beer and/or cocktails. Interest in history/literature/politics/art/fine dining a plus. Must be willing to learn to love NFL football. Must be hopelessly in love with me, forsaking all others, as long as he lives. Strong resemblance to David Tennant a plus. Actually being David Tennant preferred (unless of course David Tennant is actually a misogynistic, ego-maniacal, crack-addicted, lunatic queen with the clap).
Thank you for your time.
xoxo
Helen
Dear Universe:
Please send me one British man. Must be gainfully employed, single, straight, free of STDs, well-educated, non-violent, of solid moral character, non-addicted, non-misogynist, non-ego maniac, non-nazi, non criminal, non-lunatic with common sense and a good sense of humor. Must enjoy travel, wine and/or beer and/or cocktails. Interest in history/literature/politics/art/fine dining a plus. Must be willing to learn to love NFL football. Must be hopelessly in love with me, forsaking all others, as long as he lives. Strong resemblance to David Tennant a plus. Actually being David Tennant preferred (unless of course David Tennant is actually a misogynistic, ego-maniacal, crack-addicted, lunatic queen with the clap).
Thank you for your time.
xoxo
Helen
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Better than The Secret!
So recently my friends and I have been trying to brain-storm ways of escaping from the Festering Pit of Despair (aka large international law firm where we all work) before our souls are completely devoured and our spirits crushed entirely. In other words--how can we get out before it's too late? All of us have outside interests and we are all quite clearly wasting our talents here...but of course there is the small matter of paychecks and the fact that we all like roofs over our heads, wine in the fridge, etc. So in the meantime we hopefully cross our fingers while picking lottery numbers and maintain well-developed fantasies about what our lives will be like when we succeed in getting out of this hell and on to bigger and better things. We were discussing our future lives yesterday--Dee was researching the best kind of dairy cows for making artisanal cheese on her farm, Trish was wondering if David Duchovny would write the screenplay for a book she's optioned, I was wondering whether I should source my Pinot Noir grapes from Santa Maria or the Santa Lucia Highlands--and that's when it hit me. What if the fantasy life is the real life and all this (sweeping arm gesture here) is just a very bad dream? What if, in my real life, I live in a beautiful house on the Palos Verdes Peninsula instead of my decrepit little apartment? What if, when that alarm goes off and I wake from this nightmare, I find I'm safe in my comfy bed inside that beautiful house with David Tennant drooling on the pillow next to mine? This got us thinking. What if we were to behave as if we were living the lives we want? It's like dressing for the job you want instead of the job you have right? It's better than The Secret because instead of just "putting it out there to the Universe" you actually start living and behaving the way you would if you were already living your dream life. And maybe, just maybe, you end up with the life you want, or at least a reasonable facsimile. Either that or I lose my rather tenuous grip on reality altogether and end up in a psych ward, heavily medicated. Technically, I will have escaped the Festering Pit of Despair though so I would consider this a win. Perhaps I really have gone round the bend here, but I think we're on to something. To test the theory, we've planned on heading out early for drinks at the Four Seasons (because that's the sort of thing we would do in our real lives). I'll let you know how it goes!
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Happy New Year to All Plus a Rant
January 1, 2009. Holy hell! Seems like just yesterday everyone was freaking out about Y2K and the impending apocalypse and here we are nine years later already! Turns out the actual harbinger of the end of days may have been mortgage-backed securities. I have a feeling 2009 is going to be a wild one as far as the economy is concerned. My goal for the new year? Remain gainfully employed--the way things are going this will be no small feat. Other than that I plan to be more social (I went to a party last night and am going to another today. Okay, so maybe it isn't a party so much as it is two people watching a football game...but still social, no?), I'm going to entertain more at my home (which serves the dual purpose of being social and forcing me to clean!) and I'm going to attempt to get a grip on my finances which have been hemorrhaging quite badly the past few months. Most importantly, I will continue to do things for no other reason than they make me happy. We all have to do plenty of things every day out of necessity or obligation that we'd rather not be doing. It is important to take the time for a little bit of personal indulgence. Reading the latest chic lit, opening a good bottle of wine when it isn't a special occasion, watching Blackpool again, making carbonara, hanging out in a bookstore or wine shop, sneaking off for margaritas with your friends at lunch time...just a few of the things that serve no purpose other than to make me happy which I intend to do more of in the new year! If I weren't trying to hold down expenses I'd add shop for purses to the list, maybe if there's a sale! Happy 2009, everyone! I wish you all health, wealth and happiness in the new year!
And now a rant. What the fuck is wrong with people who write horrible, awful things in order to drive traffic to their illegal websites? As you know I fell head over heels for Mr. David Tennant after seeing him in Hamlet in October (I blogged about it in the post Full English Breakfast). Well, as a proper fan girl and true geek I set up a Google alert for DT so that I could keep up with news about him. The other day I got an alert with a headline saying that he had died. I could not verify the news as it seemed to be coming from only the one source, but I was still shaken. I realize I don't actually know the man, but first of all there are very few people in the world I would actually wish death upon whether I know them or not. Second, he's a brilliant actor and I hope to enjoy his work for years to come. Third, he's terribly cute. The idea that something had happened to him made me feel physically ill. Eventually, a friend was able to look at the site the story came from and told me it was something called a torrent and totally bogus. I know nothing about torrents, but I know I hate them. Who writes a bogus story about someone dying just to drive traffic to their site? If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times...I hate people.
And now a rant. What the fuck is wrong with people who write horrible, awful things in order to drive traffic to their illegal websites? As you know I fell head over heels for Mr. David Tennant after seeing him in Hamlet in October (I blogged about it in the post Full English Breakfast). Well, as a proper fan girl and true geek I set up a Google alert for DT so that I could keep up with news about him. The other day I got an alert with a headline saying that he had died. I could not verify the news as it seemed to be coming from only the one source, but I was still shaken. I realize I don't actually know the man, but first of all there are very few people in the world I would actually wish death upon whether I know them or not. Second, he's a brilliant actor and I hope to enjoy his work for years to come. Third, he's terribly cute. The idea that something had happened to him made me feel physically ill. Eventually, a friend was able to look at the site the story came from and told me it was something called a torrent and totally bogus. I know nothing about torrents, but I know I hate them. Who writes a bogus story about someone dying just to drive traffic to their site? If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times...I hate people.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Full English Breakfast
When I awoke this morning I was disappointed to find no one offered to fry me up any eggs and bacon (or as we Americans call it, ham) with tomato, mushrooms and beans as they had the past three mornings. And I was really starting to like the beans too! I just returned from a whirlwind trip to England to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of Hamlet in Stratford-upon-Avon. It was absolutely fantastic and a dream come true. About 10 months ago I found out Patrick Stewart would be performing in Hamlet and immediately purchased tickets for two nights. Seeing Patrick Stewart perform Shakespeare has been on my list of things to do in life for a while now. I've seen his one man show of A Christmas Carol twice and it was amazing. I have been a Shakespeare freak since high school and seeing Mr. Stewart performing Shakespeare was a bit like the Holy Grail for me. Even though it meant spending money I really didn't have, traveling by myself and spending only four days total, it was something I was determined to do. As it turns out, it was more than worth it. I would go again in a heartbeat.
The trip started a little unevenly. My flight was about half an hour late so I knew I had very little time to make my train at Marylebone. I raced for the Heathrow Express to Paddington, from there caught the tube two stops to Marylebone and, quite unfortunately, missed the train to Stratford by just a couple of minutes. I chatted for a while with two very friendly conductors and after telling them I had theatre tickets they suggested that rather than wait for the next train, which if on time (not something British railway system is known for) would have put me in Stratford with only 30 minutes to curtain, I take a train to Warwick and get a taxi from there. It would give me an hour and a half. Perfect!
I absolutely love England so I enjoyed gazing at the green fields and fluffy white sheep on the way to Warwick. The taxi driver deposited me at the Falcon hotel in Stratford with plenty of time to shower and get ready for the play. The theatre was only a few minutes walk, but I didn't want to be late so I went directly there rather than stopping for something to eat or to go to the ATM even though the taxi had taken most of the cash I'd brought with me. This ended up being a critical error on my part, but at this time there was no way of knowing what the evening had in store.
I got to the theatre, had a bottle of orange juice (lunch and dinner) and took my seat. Front row of the circle, center. In my opinion, the very best seat in the house. For the next three and a half hours I was completely caught up in the magic of the Bard's words brought wonderfully and vibrantly to life by this amazing cast. I have seen a lot of Shakespeare performed, including other performances by the RSC, but nothing even comes close to being as truly brilliant and perfect as this production of Hamlet. The entire cast was outstanding, but I have to admit being completely blown away by David Tennant (or as I knew him prior to this, Dr. Who) in the lead role. He was tremendous. A true comic genius with the range to play the full scale of emotions of the Danish Prince from heartbreaking despair to ribald humour, acerbic wit to seething anger. Quite honestly, I think I fell just a little bit (okay, maybe a lot) in love with Mr. Tennant based solely on his performance. Of course I came specifically for Patrick Stewart and he did not disappoint. His Claudius was truly diabolical, and quite frightening. He is a commanding presence on the stage (or as I wrote in my journal after the performance, "like a god upon the stage") and I have to say I feel incredibly lucky to have seen him on four separate occasions now. He is an amazingly gifted performer and this is never more evident than in his theatre work. Finally seeing him perform Shakespeare was even more brilliant than I imagined. I also have to give kudos to Penny Downie whose turn as Gertrude was also quite memorable. The entire cast was, truly, outstanding.
The trip started a little unevenly. My flight was about half an hour late so I knew I had very little time to make my train at Marylebone. I raced for the Heathrow Express to Paddington, from there caught the tube two stops to Marylebone and, quite unfortunately, missed the train to Stratford by just a couple of minutes. I chatted for a while with two very friendly conductors and after telling them I had theatre tickets they suggested that rather than wait for the next train, which if on time (not something British railway system is known for) would have put me in Stratford with only 30 minutes to curtain, I take a train to Warwick and get a taxi from there. It would give me an hour and a half. Perfect!
I absolutely love England so I enjoyed gazing at the green fields and fluffy white sheep on the way to Warwick. The taxi driver deposited me at the Falcon hotel in Stratford with plenty of time to shower and get ready for the play. The theatre was only a few minutes walk, but I didn't want to be late so I went directly there rather than stopping for something to eat or to go to the ATM even though the taxi had taken most of the cash I'd brought with me. This ended up being a critical error on my part, but at this time there was no way of knowing what the evening had in store.
I got to the theatre, had a bottle of orange juice (lunch and dinner) and took my seat. Front row of the circle, center. In my opinion, the very best seat in the house. For the next three and a half hours I was completely caught up in the magic of the Bard's words brought wonderfully and vibrantly to life by this amazing cast. I have seen a lot of Shakespeare performed, including other performances by the RSC, but nothing even comes close to being as truly brilliant and perfect as this production of Hamlet. The entire cast was outstanding, but I have to admit being completely blown away by David Tennant (or as I knew him prior to this, Dr. Who) in the lead role. He was tremendous. A true comic genius with the range to play the full scale of emotions of the Danish Prince from heartbreaking despair to ribald humour, acerbic wit to seething anger. Quite honestly, I think I fell just a little bit (okay, maybe a lot) in love with Mr. Tennant based solely on his performance. Of course I came specifically for Patrick Stewart and he did not disappoint. His Claudius was truly diabolical, and quite frightening. He is a commanding presence on the stage (or as I wrote in my journal after the performance, "like a god upon the stage") and I have to say I feel incredibly lucky to have seen him on four separate occasions now. He is an amazingly gifted performer and this is never more evident than in his theatre work. Finally seeing him perform Shakespeare was even more brilliant than I imagined. I also have to give kudos to Penny Downie whose turn as Gertrude was also quite memorable. The entire cast was, truly, outstanding.
So after witnessing this amazing incarnation of what is perhaps Shakespeare's finest work, I found that there was yet another incredible treat in store. After taking their bows, the actors announced that this was a special week in England when they raise money for the actors' fund and the entire cast would be in the lobby with buckets. OMFG! I could not believe what I was hearing. Mr. Patrick Stewart was actually going to be in the lobby. I could actually meet him! When I arrived in the lobby, there he was behind the bar, thronged by people, signing autographs. People were having their programs signed. I had decided to wait and buy one the following night because I had so little cash. Oh no. What to do? Then I remembered my ticket. It was actually quite large and would do nicely. I scrounged all of the change from my purse, about four pounds total. I felt terrible. I would have liked to have given so much more. If only I'd had time to go to the ATM before the show! Still, I knew this might be my only chance. Although they had said they were taking up the collection this "week" I knew there was no guarantee they would do it the following night. I waited for my turn with Mr. Stewart feeling excited, terrified, giddy and also ashamed that I had so little money for the charity bucket. When my turn came, I slid my ticket across to him and whispered a tentative hello. He took the ticket to sign and then looked at me expectantly--waiting, I'm sure, for me to speak. I looked at him with what I'm certain was a crazed expression of terror and could not bring myself to utter a single syllable. He handed back my ticket, I found my voice to say "thank you very much," threw my money in the bucket and literally ran out of the theatre.
OMG! Patrick Stewart had signed my ticket! I was nearly hysterical with my good fortune. It was only later that my regret at not having talked to him began to creep in. And I really wished I'd had more money to give. I could have asked if he'd take U.S. dollars, which I had, for the collection. I could have told him I'd traveled for 10.5 hours by plane, 3 hours by train, 15 minutes by taxi and 5 minutes on foot just to see him perform. I spent most of the night lying awake rehearsing a concise speech of admiration for his work, which (I hoped) didn't sound too stalkerish, on the off chance they would be taking the collection again the next night. I was fully prepared. I purchased a program and made sure to have some liquid courage during intermission. Alas, it was not to be. My chance had been a once in a life time chance. I was sad only because I really, truly would have like to have given an appropriate donation to the fund and I would also have liked to have told Patrick Stewart how greatly I admire his work. If anyone reading this happens to know Mr. Stewart, I would greatly appreciate it if you could pass this along to him. I realize only two people read this blog, but I'm putting it out there anyway!
Despite the fact that I was unable to really speak to him, I am absolutely ecstatic over my great fortune in being in the theatre the one night it was possible to get his autograph. And, even if I had not had that particular opportunity, I would still be on cloud nine now, having witnessed such a tremendous production, not once, but twice. It was even better the second night. I'm certain I could have watched this play a dozen times without becoming the least bit bored. I can say in all honesty that this was the adventure of a lifetime and a dream come true for me.
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