Life Lesson of the Day:

Do Not Trust Other People -
Especially College Kids.

And I can say that because technically my senior year is over. I'd probably say it even if it wasn't.

*warning. the following post may (coughcoughWILLcough cough) contain venting.*

Last night was hands down the most important performance of my college career. I say that because it was without a doubt the most important one to me. I had directed a scene from Jesus Hopped the A Train by Stephen Adly Guirgis, and it was one with a powerful message that I knew would shake up the theatre department at my school because *gasp* it talked about God and faith and being a Christian. In a hard-core inner-city prison no less, complete with frequently placed expletives.

But it was the one thing that I have been completely proud of the entire 5 years I've been in college. It was my best work. It was my actors' best work. And it, along with 7 other student directed scenes, was being performed at our annual Theatre Works.

Every time there has been a performance at our school it has been video recorded. Usually by a couple of people. I have never once gotten a DVD back from a school performance (except for *one* that I stage managed because one of the actors' father took it upon himself to do it). If the tapes have gotten into the hands of our theatre faculty, they have never again seen the light of day.
The other shows at this school that I've been involved in I couldn't care two beans worth about getting a DVD of. One or two of them I was just glad to see finished.

But this one? This scene that I put my time and energy into for most of this semester? This one thing that broke new ground in our department and actually had a message beyond just a shocking scene or a good story? This one I want a DVD of. There are people that I care about that didn't get to see it. This is something I'm going to want to remember and share with other people because the message is that good and I'm that proud of it.

I asked if I could bring my own, professional level camera to be the main camera so that I could have control of the editing. I wanted to edit it because #1 that would ensure that it would get done, #2 it would ensure that I get a copy, and #3 because I'm just good at it. My teacher said I'd have to fight it out with another student because he is the one who usually videos.
I talked to said student about it, and he said he didn't mind at all because he hates editing. But then, because our cameras are almost equally professional and mine is being borrowed at the moment, we agreed to have him video it, but *give me the tapes so I could edit*.

That was how we left it the NIGHT BEFORE THE SHOW.
Then I clarified with him. Yes, he said. He'd video, then give me the tapes.

I emailed him today to ask when he wanted me to drop by to pick them up and I get the reply:
"Oh, I already gave them to [our teacher]. Sorry about the confusion."

Read back up there. Was there any confusion? We never discussed any other option! It was practically always him videoing, me editing.

I emailed my teacher offering to edit if she would give me the tapes and promising that if so, they would be done before graduation because it would only take me an afternoon or two.
I don't expect to hear back from her.
I don't expect to get the tapes.
And I honestly don't expect to ever see a DVD of Theatre Works 2009.

So don't trust college kids. That's what I learned today.

My Grandpa's Chair

To everyone else it's just an ordinary recliner. It's big, brown, and puffy which is really all you could ever want in a chair with huge pockets on the side to hold various reading and writing materials. But it's no ordinary recliner.

I've known this recliner my entire life. Visits to my grandparents in Florida were filled with waiting for the moment Grandpa would stand up and walk to the other room so I could pounce and climb my way up on it, letting it engulf me in ways that only big, brown, puffy recliners can engulf little girls. Then Grandpa would come back and tickle me and I'd scramble out.

I can remember sitting in the chair and trying my hardest to push the arms in the way that made the foot rest pop up. I was never strong enough, and Grandpa would have to come around behind me and push them for me. Even when I was strong enough I would pretend that I wasn't so that Grandpa would have to come around behind me and push them for me.

He stopped smoking a pipe very early on in my memories, but I'm still convinced that if you turn your head just so and sniff at just the right spot you can catch the scent of tobacco that takes you back to the days when you were sitting on his lap in that recliner while he watched golf on TV.

Mom was going to get rid of the recliner. I happened across it and claimed it for myself when no one else wanted it. It has a prominent place in my office now; its the chair I go to for all the comfort reading, writing, and studying I do. That chair has always meant a lot to me and I don't think I'll ever give it up.

To me, it's an extraordinary recliner.