Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Mold or Bleach? Mold or Bleach?

Which is worse for me to be inhaling? Mold or Bleach? Which is worse to be spreading all over my skin and spraying into my eyes from the scrub brush? Mold or Bleach?


It doesn't matter, I guess, because I have just had a steady supply of both to my respiratory system/skin organ.

My hands feel crackly and my throat feels angry.

And there is still ominous gray occupying my grout.

In Other News:

I am only in NYC for 3 days- before I go away for Labor Day Weekend- and I have no money and I have no food. All my expenses are going towards Bleach. and Kombucha. And bus tickets and  wedding presents.

See you on the other side.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Mom is a Bug on Facebook

I cut out all of my lines, because the story I was telling was boring. It is all about the bug anyway.

Actually, without my lines it looks pretty hilarious.

The Ghost of Hurricane Irene


Moldy Mold!

I came back to New York to find black mold growing by the drain of my shower because of a dripping spigot (yes, that is how you spell it).

I remembered a friend who told me she had to move out of her apartment due to "dangerous, toxic black mold in the bathroom". I poured an entire bottle of bleach on it.

Google is no friend because, now, I am going to die from the mold.

And its not enough that I terminate it with bleach, it is apparently flying around my air, getting onto all my other surfaces and causing me internal damage.

It is worse than bed bugs.

I have an old, very leaky bathroom. There is black and orange stuff puffing out from under my sink. I always just thought it was mineral build-up. But now I am going to die.

I literally prayed to God last night to miraculously kill the mold. I was that overwhelmed- that I thought the only way to effectively handle the situation at 2 am last night was to pray for a miracle. Also, I know I will have to clean and/or get the Superintendent involved.

I would put a picture, but I don't want to get close to it. Even though I still have to every time I go to the bathroom.

Errand List:


  • Hardware Store: Bleach, Gloves, Scrubs, More Bleach, Vinegar (for the days I feel like cleaning "Green") and a mask.
  • Air Purifier.
  • New Pillows. (unrelated.) My pillows are very uncomfortable.


And that will be about all the money I have!

From weather.com:

2. Protect yourself by using goggles, gloves, and breathing protection while working in the area. For large consolidated areas of mold growth, you should use an OSHA (Occupational Safety & Health Administration) approved particle mask.

BLARHGHGHGHG.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Classical Voice Lessons

In Middle School and High School I took classical voice lessons from a belarusian, voice teacher (pianist extraordinaire). (if she reads this I want it to be flattering of her, because I loved her so much).

I just did not love classical voice.

Why did I take classical voice? It is the same reason a hip hop dancer takes ballet (do they?). Or why a basketball player cross trains.

If these examples make you think I am a Hip Hop singer- wrong again.

But nevertheless- my voice lessons took place in a big Victorian house that had been converted into a russian Music teacher School for kids who wanted to be stressed out.



Our specific voice lessons often took place in the attic room, late at night, when no one was around. I think it had to do with my insane after school schedule. But why it had to be in the attic, I fail to remember.

But, because of the remoteness and the late hour, there was a time that I thought she was a ghost/angel sent to teach me to sing and that I was the only one who saw her. But then I got confused as to who we paid and how my mom knew about her. Also, why she was there, and why the head of the music school let me be there if I was singing alone in a room with a magical piano.

Eventually one of the other teachers came in a talked to her during our 11 pm voice lesson- and I realized she was just a human.

But, save for that one month where I thought she was an angel/ghost, I did everything I could to make sure that I sang as LITTLE AS POSSIBLE in my lessons.

This was my ultimate education in procrastination.


I would stall as long as possible, sit down on the couch (when we were in the living room room on the first floor), chat about life, ask her about her life and how her green card process was going, etc.. She was getting her doctorate in music from Temple in Philadelphia- and she would update me on the progress of her dissertation.

She would tell me about her current gym regimen and I would encourage the talk. She would tell me about her new boyfriend that she met on the internet who lived in Virginia (I think she lives there now) who she would visit every other weekend.

She would tell me about her hobby of collecting beautiful computer backgrounds. She had a file on her computer with hundreds, maybe thousands of picturesque landscapes to set as backgrounds for her computer.

She would tell me about her baby (her car) and her son. And her cat named Charlie. I just remembered about her cat!

She would tell me she would go 90 mph on the highway when her "friends" weren't around. (The cops.)

She also started really getting into playing Pool when I was a junior and senior in high school.

I am sure I told her about a lot of things too, since I was the one instigating the procrastination, but I can't remember my big talking subjects, only hers.

When I did actually sing, we would warm up, and it was hard.

Then if we were learning a song, she would teach me the words to the foreign classical song- often russian. I would phonetically write the words out on a piece of paper (the only time I was actually supposed to be on the couch), memorize them, and sing songs with words I had no idea the meaning of. I would also accidentally copy her accent exactly- so when I sang an english song (the few classical ones there are), I had a russian accent. It was weird. (of me.)

I wasn't very good at classical singing, I always sounded very young. Not opera-like at all. I attribute that to a lack of passion, practice and ... desire. But I learned a lot from Irina.

I also think it may have helped me in singing to this day, but who can say...

I would put up a track of me singing an English song in a Russian accent if I was on my mom's computer, God I should find that....

All this talk makes we want to contact Irina. Maybe I will send her this post!

Sunday, August 21, 2011

A Surfer's Extreme




A Surfers Extreme from Richard Edgar Woolbert IV on Vimeo.

I want to share the film my brother made with his friend this past week. 

He has had bleached-blonde, long hair for the past 6 months in mental preparation for his (self-created) role.


Saturday, August 20, 2011

Mac Stores, Black Eyes and Family Photos

I spilled coffee on my computer a week ago because my hands are very weak in the morning.


I turned it off and upside down for a whole day, but it just wasn't working anymore.

Atlantic City

shit show

Atlantic City has the closest Apple Store to Ocean City, so I made an appointment the other day and dragged my little sister Margaret along. She has a black eye.





Little did I know it was the 'Air Show' in Atlantic City the day of my appointment. Too Loud- we thought there were bombs going off. And too chaotic and crowded: Car Park Hell.

Anyways


Anyways, my computer was busted- yet something inspired me to be honest with the Sir working the Genius Bar. I had had too much coffee that day already (ironically) and was majorly stressed from being an hour late to my appointment because we had to go up and down and up again in a packed 12-story car park- and I knocked this wobbly poll on my way into the spot we found. (And there were a lot of signs for stripper clubs in Atlantic City).

So basically I seemed very upset while talking about my computer.

Turns out I needed $714 worth of repair that Apple Care doesn't normally cover, but I got it for free. I don't know why. I almost asked but thought that Sir would rescind the kindness if I questioned it.

12 days left in my 2 year warranty.

Family Photo


"How To Make A Girl with a Black Eye Feel Less Horrible (in an Overly-Sunny Picture)"







Thursday, August 11, 2011

When it rains face-plants, it pours face-plants.

I don't know if I am using the correct terminology "face-plant", and I mostly don't care.

My meaning: to slam one's face into something- hard.

Not shrubbery on one's face. Though I could write a whole book about that one, too.

Where are you, Carmen?

I am currently at the (jersey) shore, rehearsing Annie (the musical), in a NEW shore home that is about 5 X bigger than the one we just moved from down at the other end of the island. Literally.

I am doing fine, generally, thank you for asking.

Fun Fact:

Yesterday it rained so hard that it flooded for a few hours. Men were kayaking on the road next to where we were rehearsing.


Other Things:

It's boring to tell, but in "Annie" (the musical), I am playing Grace - the even more boring secretary to Oliver "Daddy" Warbucks. Except it seems, through some weird stage directions and dialogue, that this boring and 'kind' woman develops a drinking problem and some other forms of desperation and insanity as the show rolls along.

Though, it may just be my interpretation.

There is one part when she is supposed to faint when Oliver Warbucks (the rich man she works for and is 'in love with') tells her she is wearing a nice dress.

We cut that out.

Then there is the part where she is supposed to intercept the handing over of a check by snatching it and doing "twirls" before handing it to the other person.

We cut that out too.

Twirls

However, I couldn't let the twirls go without giving them a good go-round. So today, as I mocked the script-twirls with one of my cast-mate buds, I did some manic twirls with my eyes closed off into the middle of the room.

Face-Plants

And yes, I 'face-planted' into the back of the older actor playing Warbucks. It incapacitated me for a while. It hurt like hell, felt like I had blood trickling into my eyes, and gave me a horrible headache. I thought I had broken my nose like I did 6 years ago in a dance rehearsal doing.... you guessed it. Twirls. 

But I didn't.

This is one reason among many that I am not, and choose not, to be a dancer.

Ten hours later and I had mostly recovered though my head still hurt and still had pressure behind the eyes.

And as I hung out with my family I walked into the screen door. Face first.

As much as my face hurts as I sit here, typing with one hand while icing my face/nose, I am more freaked out by the reoccurrence of the face-plant.

I just wanted to enjoy the use of this family shore house and all my cousins/aunts/uncles sitting/running around in it. But- I guess today... I must ice my face.

***

FYI

This is Grace below. Imagine this number with no dancing on my part, a less-cool musical arrangement and lyrics like "Gussie her up" and "good times are comin now since you came our way, its christmas every day".