Days 1 and 2

Yesterday I was sick, very sick. My sinuses ceased to exist as holes in my head and became throbbing canals of pain (and also mucus). And my internet was down. There are two things every girl needs to be creative: oxygen and internet access. Yesterday I had neither.

So here's what I've been doing for the last two days at work. It's been slow. America, get out there and write some checks! Incorrectly, if you can!

Paper flowers! I think technically this is kirigami, but to me it felt more like making paper snowflakes but folding the paper slightly differently. They are made from old calendar pages, as I mentioned before, and colored with my vast supply of highlighter pens. Total time: about 2.5 hours.

I have no idea what I'm going to do with them, but for now I kind of like having them on my computer. Whenever I get bored I stop what I'm doing and rearrange them. It's soothing, like a brightly colored, ultra-girlie Zen garden.

Today's Craft: Bread, using this recipe.I'm going to let it rise overnight to give it more flavor. Haven't made bread in a long time, so I'm really looking forward to it!

30 Days of Creativity DAY ONE GO!

I signed up for this because Heather did first, and I tend to follow Heather and her crazy ideas (Let's get dressed up and go to things and hope that people will take our pictures! Let's go see Twilight even though we both hated the book! Wait, let's write a Fringe show instead!). But this is a good one, because I need motivation to do creative things that don't involve spite (see also: Fringe show).

I am a pro at linking to things. If I was telling this story out loud, that paragraph would have taken 10 minutes. HTML: Your window to a less long-winded tomorrow!

So, I made some kirigami flowers out of old desk calendar pages at work today, and now I have a bouquet of November 1-19, 2009 on my computer. I have 5 1/2 months left and not a ton of real work to do, so I'll probably keep working on that tomorrow. I'll take some pictures and post them somewhere within my vast social media network (which is to say, on Twitter). And I have a hymn for church tomorrow that's not in the hymnal, so I'll have to improvise a harmonization for that. Does that count? That had better friggin' count. I went to school for that shit. Maybe I'll figure out how to record and post that too.

I'm not normally good at this sort of thing, on account of I lack discipline and self-control, but I'm getting better. I've listened to the whole Bible on my iPod 1 1/2 times since the start of last year, I stopped biting my nails, and I even got myself photographed by a legitimate member of the press (Naomi Beck: hyperlinking machine. Also, pretty good at pulling off hot pink miniskirts). So I'm pretty confident about this.

(Disclaimer: Today is also the start of the Lazyman Triathalon at the YMCA, and you get a t-shirt for finishing that, so if it comes to the point where I have to choose which one to finish, I'm gonna go with that.)

So here goes...

Why I should start doing improv

Because, as I try to write an introductory essay to my huge-ass semester project anthology of humor (Funny without Trying: Something something haven't written a subtitle yet), it occurs to me that I am good at beginning to talk about things, and I'm good at continuing to talk about things, but I'm terrible at stopping before the talking turns into a rambling mess. If this essay were an improv scene, someone would just clap, and it would be all over. Life, I think, needs more scene-changing claps.

Also, today a gay man told me I had the perfect hair and skin color for jewel-toned shirts, and that's like the improviser's uniform. So there's that.


PS - One of my goals once this semester from hell is over (Tuesday at 9:30 PM!) is to start blogging more. But another one of my goals is to do the laundry I haven't done in four weeks, so don't hold your breath.

An annotated inventory of the CDs in my car

Lady Gaga, The Fame/Monster
Most often listened to when: Going to work, going to the gym, leaving church, going out with the ladies
Good for: Getting pumped up, feelin' sexy, feelin' fabulous, being a feminist (third-wave), not wearing pants

The Mamas & the Papas, Greatest Hits
Most often listened to when: Going home late at night, leaving work, stuck in rush-hour traffic
Good for: Winding down, singing along, picking out karaoke songs, feminism (second wave), wishing I were a burlesque dancer/singer

The Beatles, 1 (disc 2)
Most often listened to when: Other people are in the car
Good for: Not admitting which CDs I normally listen to while driving, getting into heated debates about whether or not George Harrison is the most underrated Beatle (answer: YES)


Various publishing houses, Handbell music demo CDs
Most often listened to when: Going to bell choir practice, leaving bell choir practice
Good for: The feeling of inflated self-worth that comes from multitasking

Queen, Greatest Hits: We Will Rock You Edition
Most often listened to when: Things need to be rocked
Good for: Rocking things

It's tough to be a girl (for narrative purposes)

Today was a good day, until it got awful. One of those "when it rains, it pours" situations. Mondays for me are always hectic, because I never get a good night's sleep on Sunday, then I'm running from work to the gym to handbell practice to home to do the homework that's due on Tuesday, so I'm pretty wired throughout. Today, though, was even worse, because it was PMS Day. It's nice, you know, that it happens on a single, pre-planned day, but it always seems to coincide with a bunch of other shit that's going on. There may be a correlation/causation thing at play there, who knows?

And let me just point out, we can use pills to stop babies from happening, and yet we are STILL WITHOUT ROCKET CARS. Science! What gives?

So I left the gym and was driving into Bloomington when I noticed my odometer was saying something: "Check...Gas...Cap." Huh. Did not know cars said that. I thought it was a little strange, though, because I had gotten gas on Friday. Why was this just coming up now? As it turns out, there was no gas cap to check. It was gone. Who steals gas caps? Really? The gas itself had not been siphoned out. And my gas cap was attached to the car. Someone had to go to the trouble of cutting the wire and everything. At that point, you might as well just get yourself a screwdriver and pry the "H" off the hood.

But besides being annoyed I wasn't that stressed out by the stolen gas cap. Bell choir, though, was a mess. We're doing our two most challenging pieces in the next four weeks. And we haven't practiced them much at all, because people go south for the winter, and I'm not a good planner. Really, I should not be in charge of people and planning. Anyway, in the middle of this hard piece that I was playing the huge bells for, my bra (this bra) came undone.

Did not know bras could do that. Huh.

Part of me thought this was awesome, because, you know, I just popped open my bra by the sheer force of my bell-heaving upper body. It's like the girl equivalent of ripping your shirt when you flex! Fear me and my mighty, mighty pecs! On the other hand, now I was braless. Well, it was still there, just floating around under my shirt. It was a padded bra, so it probably looked like I had four boobs. In theory that sounds great, but when you need your torso for damping bells, not so much. Normally this would have been an easy problem to rectify, but I happened to be standing next to the ELEVEN YEAR OLD BOY who just joined the choir. It was uncomfortable. Literally and figuratively.

Then later I was trying to explain a tricky rhythm to everyone and I couldn't make them understand it. I almost started crying. At that point, I had been reduced to an exhausted, gas cap-less, bra-less, rhythm-less lump of medically controlled hormones. Why was it the rhythm thing that set me off? I assume it's the black thing. But at that point I had just had enough.

But then when I got home I called Heather and planned an impromptu train vacation and had a big slice of my coconut cake. And now I'm laying in bed, typing these events from tragic to ridiculous. That's the magic of PMS, I guess. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems at the time. Actually, nothing is ever anything. All the same, I think I'll skip my off week next month. I deserve it. Pending the delivery of my rocket car, of course.

City Urges Travelers to Postpone River Crossing

ST. PAUL - Due to near-record high levels on the Mississippi river caused by a winter of heavy snowfall, St. Paul officials are urging pioneers, prospectors, and other cross-country migrants en route to the Oregon Territory to exercise extreme caution when crossing the river, and if at all possible, wait to see if conditions improve.

"We're expecting the river to crest at over 18 feet, well over flood stage," said J.P. O'Malley, director of Public Works. "At these levels, fording the river is a near-certain death sentence for you and the members of your party. Even caulking your wagon and attempting to float it across the river is bound to result in the loss of food, bullets, and an ox or two."

O'Malley added that the city's fleet of ferries are still in dry dock, and any attempts to hire an Indian guide to aid in crossing will likely be met with a dirty look and grumbling about the noble savage theory.

While officials are not able to offer an estimate of when the river will be navigable, they stress that the situation is temporary. Because it is still early in the year, travelers do not need to worry that this delay will leave them stranded in the Rocky Mountains when the winter blizzards hit.

Meanwhile, travelers are encouraged to take this delay as an opportunity to rest, recuperate from any illnesses picked up on the road, and restock supplies. "St Paul's many trading posts offer goods at prices that anyone, from teacher to banker, can afford. In addition, our friendly citizens are always willing to trade with you, or just chat," said O'Malley. He stressed that dispite the flooding, the city's water supply remains free of cholera and dysentery. However, "should a loved one pass away, you will find several skilled stone-workers in the city who are more than willing to carve any arcane pop culture reference onto a tombstone for you."

Updated river conditions will be published as they are made available. For more information, please contact the City of St. Paul Department of Public Works directly.

Excuses/Anecdote

I lied about the excuses part. I sort of forgot I made a blog. Which is weird, because it's right there, in the title. Out of sight, out of mind (I almost made a sight/site pun, but that sort of humor is beneath me. Instead, here is the word boner). But then I found out I had a fan/follower/friend/whatever Google calls them. So I came back to the blog. I must write. The public demands it.

So the other night I had a dream that I remember vividly, which is strange for me. I was in a room that looked like an amphitheater but was also the guest bedroom in my grandparent's old house. The seats were filled with people and I was about to go onstage with Heather, Rachel from Heather's old sketch group, and Jack McBrayer, 30 Rock's Kenneth the Page. As we walked out I became aware that we were there to do an improv set and I started to freak out a little, because I have no idea how to improvise. So I stood in the middle of the stage for a while, and suddenly, it came to me. I pantomimed fiddling around with a machine for a little while, then turned toward the audience and announced, "I am a mad scientist and I have just finished building a bullshit detector!"

I should mention that this was one of those dreams where the conscious self ("Real Naomi") is watching the dream and has full access to the thoughts of the unconscious self who is a character in the dream ("Dream Naomi"). It wasn't a lucid dream, per se, because I wasn't able to influence anything. It was more like Real Naomi was the Greek chorus to Dream Naomi's sad, sad tragedy. As soon as I (Dream) made that statement, I (Real) knew I had just screwed myself, because I had started a scene I had no idea how to work my way through, and the one thing I do know about improv is that you should not make declarative statements like that straight to the audience. At this point I assumed that I was in for one of those awkward, humiliating dreams and fully expected to see Dream Naomi shed her clothes in the most shameful way possible.

But then something amazing happened. Dream Naomi came through! Sort of. Jack walked onto the stage, and I knew that he was going to comment on the machine. He started to speak: "Wow, that's really ama-"

"BEEEP.....BEEEP....BEEEEP..."

Dream Naomi was no longer the scientist. She was the machine.

And Real Naomi knew that for the duration of the scene, there'd be a whole lot of bullshit.

Really, I was impressed with my dream self. I don't think I could have thought something like that up so quickly in real life, let alone have the balls to pull it off.. And I did pull it off, repeatedly - every time anyone tried to say something, I beeped at them. Everything was bullshit, even the stuff that contradicted itself, and everything set off the bullshit detector. I could tell that the other three were getting mad at me, but I just keep going. Beeping. Detecting bullshit like the evil device I was pretending to be.

I knew - and I think my dream self did too - that it was a lazy cop-out and probably the worst thing you could do as an improviser (so that's two things I know about improv, don't say stuff to the audience, and don't beep over your scene partners' lines). But I was so proud of myself. It was so out of character. And the audience was laughing! I must have been doing something right, or at least good enough.

I woke up the next morning still thinking about the dream, and I have been ever since. I don't think dreams necessarily have meaning, beyond a mash-up of everything you'd been thinking about the day before, but I felt like this one had special significance. I knew myself a little better. For the first time, I began to think I was more clever than I give myself credit for.

But man, was I an asshole.