Susan's Scribblings the Blog

A writer from the Philadelphia area shares the week online.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog
  • Who the Heck is Kayewer?
  • Monthly Archives: June 2008

    • Opera or Theatre?

      Posted at 1:59 am by kayewer, on June 29, 2008

      I’m not as big a performance nut as I used to be, but I still collect my pennies for something special when the conditions are right.  Usually this means I’m going to an event within a reasonable distance from home, I know how to get there and it doesn’t require a car.   God bless public transportation.

      For years I’ve enjoyed the opera, but in the past few years I’ve rediscovered the theatre.  My introductory theatre college course last spring exposed me to more productions than I would usually attend on my own, and after being saturated with so many offerings onstage I began to wonder which I like more:  opera or theatre.

      Opera is a bit exclusive in the minds of most people.  Even though many of the orchestral pieces we hear everyday on the airwaves come from opera productions, if you ask the average person on the street about them, they probably wouldn’t be able to identify them.  A song from a good musical, however, is guaranteed to outlast the production’s shelf life.

      Non-musical theatre is sometimes like television without the box.  This perspective changes the further you sit from the stage, but usually the action takes place in a huge niche in the wall, and you’re sitting on the outside looking in.  If you are exposed to a performance in an open setting, such as a thrust stage in which the audience usually surrounds the performers on all sides, it’s often hard to detach from the action in front of you.  That can be disconcerting.  I’ve seen three such performances in my life, and only one of them was light enough to be enjoyable.  It was a farce featuring prominent actor Louis Jourdan:  he actually had a scene in which he ran offstage in his boxers, socks and garters.  The other two were the (non-musical) adaptation of Spring Awakening and Othello:  sitting through both felt like I was an unwilling witness to behaviors I would normally want to report to the police (both feature death prominently), so I guess this style isn’t for me.

      Opera features artists who are classically trained to sing, and it is rare to hear spoken dialogue:  musicals feature professionally trained singers who also have to act.  A play can feature either of these, but they have to be able to act:  you can’t escape a bad acting job by breaking into song.

      On the other hand, musical productions these days are just so darned commercial and come off as emotion-stroking psychological mass hypnosis events.  They all promote largely and loud, and with Disney helming three productions on Broadway these days, a walk through New York City, just to wind my way to the Metropolitan Opera for a dose of Puccini, seems like I’m in the middle of a municipal mega mart.  The signs are huge, the lights glaring, the tickets expensive and, in the long run, it feels like being overwhelmed with sixty different brands of corn flakes.

      I’m actually going to see a touring production of Les Miserables next month.  It’s my first big ticket smash show in years.  I’m going for the cast, rather than the production.  At least I know what I’m getting into, but I won’t know until it’s over whether I’m a bigger fan of the theatre or the opera.  It will be up to them, not me, what the outcome will be.

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    • V-A-C-A-TION!

      Posted at 1:05 am by kayewer, on June 15, 2008

      There is nothing like a vacation to ease the troubled mind.  I figured out that I saved about 500 miles of car travel, pumped a good 30 percent of my last paycheck into the economy eating out and shopping for things I couldn’t buy when I worked because the stores the merchandise were in always closed before I could get there, caught up on a month’s worth of sleep, lost about a day’s worth of sweat in the heatwave of last weekend and stayed even on my diet efforts without gaining or losing.

      I was going to trade up my cell phone for one with something called Bluetooth(R).  I don’t know how they come up with these names, but if you had told somebody 15 years ago that you have a Bluetooth behind your ear, they’d think you needed the services of a good cosmetic surgeon to extract it.  Of course it’s a piece of technology to keep drivers hands-free and (in an increasing number of states) legal, as it can be against the law to surrender one hand to holding up a cell phone while driving.  I felt it would be handy if I had to call while on the highway stuck in traffic.  I decided instead that, should I get in a jam, I’ll just pull over to the shoulder, park and call then.  Surely a cop can’t fault me for using my cell while sitting in my car in dead traffic, right?

      I didn’t go to the shore on vacation:  I didn’t want to add my own ugly, sweaty, pale body to the already overwhelming masses of  ugly, sweaty and pale bodies trying to find a square foot of umbrella space along the coastline.  Besides, I don’t indulge in bare feet in the summer, I dread the idea of bare legs, the smell of tanning lotion irks me and there are sand flies that cause excruciating pain when they so much as land on you.  Why bother?

      The idea of what is now being called the “staycation” is a good one.  I never understood why people buy a house costing two or three hundred thousand dollars, then spend most of their time not living in it.  They spend more money hiring cleaning staff, gardeners and pet sitters, and it seems the average couple has to work at four jobs just to make ends meet.  Why not just sit comfortably in your living room, slap some iced tea together and have your clean, dry and pale neighbors over for some quality time instead?

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    • The Clothes Size Thing

      Posted at 1:06 am by kayewer, on June 8, 2008

      It came to me this morning, while I was in that no-zone stage between being on the verge of falling back asleep and saying “heck with it” and waking up for real, that one of the little but significant problems in our society is the issue of clothing sizes.

      Men have always had the choice of small, medium or large/x-large as have women, but then they also get to select their clothes based on their measurements.  Women, on the other hand, have a variety of numbers assigned to them.   Junior sizes are always odd-numbered, and I don’t really know why, but I suspect it’s because the Size Gurus think that, since the folks who normally wear junior clothes–adolescents–are a little off-kilter as they develop anyway, the non-even numbers fit perfectly with their profiles.  Then we have Misses, Womens and half-sizes.  Women are considered anybody who fits a size 14 or more, again for reasons I probably wouldn’t believe if they told me anyway.  In fact, in the women’s department they normally give a designation of “W” for size 14s and up that are built for. . . .shall we say “more ample” females.  Misses’ size 14 are not as proportioned.

      We also deal with something manufacturers politely call a “rise.”  This is how much trouser body you want to extend from your belly button, down and around and up to the small of your back, hoping to avoid a look that is considered undesirable in your plumber when viewed from behind.  Some women don’t care if they have a low rise:  in fact, they crave the exposure.  That’s not me.

      There is a chain store called Size 5, 7 & 9 that now carries other sizes.  I don’t know why only this one group of sizes is singled out.  I also can’t fathom the concept of Size 0.  That’s right: zero, as in no size.  Of course you would be holding a garment in your hands, but it is a null size.  Unfortunately I think anorexics might crave the status of such a designation.

      Why can’t women have clothes that are cut to fit the waist and hip?  If you take a 24 waist and a 36 hip, so could your brother or spouse, right?  Is that a crime?  Wouldn’t it be easier for the overall feeling of humanness we all crave to be considered worthy of real clothing measurements as men?  I’m just putting the thought out there, because it made sense this morning.

      Oh, and we want alterations on the premises, too.

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    • Blue Jeans Lady

      Posted at 12:45 am by kayewer, on June 1, 2008

      Over the years I haven’t really owned a lot of pairs of denim jeans.  In fact my parents gave me permission to buy my first pair when I was in sixth grade (you have to remember that back when I was in elementary school, jeans were not the uniform code).  No matter what type you finally wind up buying, they never really fit well.  There is always something not quite right about them.

      I always thought it would be a good idea to just let women go into a shop and have a tailor custom make jeans for the individual customer, but then we would have the same privilege as men and that, apparently, isn’t allowed.  Men can have adjustments made to their clothes to match any part of their anatomy that isn’t in harmony with the fabric.  We women are just expected to all be Betsy Ross accredited seamstresses and fix our own problems, but have you ever tried to deconstruct a good pair of jeans?  It’s like chiseling rocks with a meat hammer.

      I finally did obtain one pair of jeans that I wear only on occasions when I’m trying to fit in, like our company’s designated “Jeans Day” this past week.  Frankly, I’m used to trousers without complicated or uncooperative flies on the front, and without the bulge created by the top of that darned metal button.

      Finally I should confess that my jeans are not indigo, so Stacey and Clinton from What Not to Wear would have my head on a platter for committing one of their major fashion faux pas.  However, at least they are decently proportioned and I only wear them when I absolutely feel it is sociologically appropriate to do so.

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