Fifi's First Post

An Interview

What's your favourite colour?
Pink 'cause it's light.

Who's your best friend?
Rowan. Her played with me sometimes, being angry with me, sometimes her loves me and sometimes her loves Ceiteidh.

What do you want for Christmas?
I want a toy teddy and pussy cat toy. Hello Kitty toy. How do I need to say all these words? I want to talk to it. I want to talk to it now.

Okay then.

Take Two

Well, if you listened to my audio blog below, you'll know I went to see Jesus Christ Superstar in the Greenock Arts Guild last Friday. Well, I also went on Saturday. I was helping out front of house and stayed to watch the show again.

The second time was a different experience for me. I'd already been very critical the night before of the bad (and downright wrong) theology, so I knew when those parts were coming up, and rather than looking for them and being outraged by them, I was able to just ignore them and just watch the show. Many things, because of that, felt very different for me the second time.

For instance, there's a song (and I don't know the names of the songs, because I'm not all the familiar with the show) where Jesus says to Simon,

Neither you, Simon, nor the fifty thousand, nor the Romans, nor the Jews, nor Judas, nor the twelve, nor the priests, nor the scribes, nor doomed Jerusalem itself understand what power is, understand what glory is, understand at all.

(Gotta love Wikiquote.) I missed this the first night, but felt very moved the second night at this line. The context is that Simon is trying to convince Jesus to fight against the Pharisees (or the Romans?) to get even more glory and power. While I don't know that that sort of instance really happened, the sentiment still worked. Neither the disciples, nor even we, understand what Jesus was ALL about, or what glory and power really are. Jesus' glory and power were eternal and heavenly; they were not about things of this earth, as the disciples and the Jews expected their Messiah to be. This even applies today; so many Christians expect Jesus to fulfil all their earthly desires, often quoting 'He shall give you the desires of your heart', without realising that his fulfilment of our needs are primarily spiritual, and the physical is secondary. (Remember the paralysed man on the mat? Jesus forgave his sins first, and only after told him to get up and walk.)

The other thing that really got me the second time was Jesus crying out from the cross, 'Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing'. The first time, something about that annoyed me, and I couldn't put my finger on it. The second night I realised it was simply the way the phrase was turned. I think I'm used to hearing, 'Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.' I know it's all English translation, and I wish I knew what the Aramaic actually would've been. But I like the 'for they know not what they do' translation better. Perhaps it's because I have a different view on the interpretation of that. Most people interpret that as Jesus saying, 'Forgive these people who are crucifying me because they don't know what a big deal this is, or who I am'. I don't really think that. I think that that was Jesus' darkest hour, literally. Moment later he would cry out, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' God had turned his face away from His Son during this time, for whatever reasons, many of which have been widely speculated on, which I won't go into at the moment, and not one of us can understand even remotely what this meant for Jesus. Jesus was God, and yet while on earth, he was also fully man. Yet even as man, he had perfect communion with the Father. He often stated that he only did what he saw his Father doing. He did everything according to His Father's will while living on earth. So can you imagine what it felt like for him to see that communion darkening as the Father turned His face from him? To be fully experiencing separation from God? When Jesus had been One with the Father from before the beginning as the second person of the Trinity, to begin to feel what mankind feels, prior to any revelation of God, which is a total and utter separation from God... that would've been excruciating. (And part of why even if one of us were to physically experience all Jesus did, we'd still never have suffered as he did.) So when he calls out 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!', I think he was saying, 'Father, forgive my elect, because they, in their utter darkness and separation of you, do not know just how wicked they are, they cannot see you, they don't know you at all!'

For the record, Scott totally disagrees with me on this interpretation. He takes it to literally mean those crucifying Christ. Since it's technically his blog too, thought I'd throw in his 2 cents.

So anyway, when I thought of that during the show, of Jesus asking his Father to forgive them, to forgive US, to forgive ME, for they, WE, I, do not know what we are doing, I was thoroughly broken. And that's when the sobs came. And from that moment on, I sobbed through the rest of the show.

(Fifi, the girl next to me, sobbed through it too. We were a noisy, embarrassing pair, the two of us. And once we noticed the other crying, we started giggling, which then made us cry harder and louder, and oh my goodness, were we a pair.)

So I'd say that, while I still do not like the show, I am glad I went the second night. I feel it really did change something in me. And the whole night after the show, at the after-show party, there were serious conversations all over the place about the Bible and religion and faith, and that, in my opinion, can only be a good thing.

What? As If Blogging Wasn't Already Self-Congratulating Enough?

The inherent narcissistic, self-involved nature of blogging has taken on a new level. Introducing my new Audio Blog (by audioBoo).

Oops, That Was Today?

Was gonna blog about seeing the musical Jesus Christ Superstar last night. But then I got a text asking if I was going to my friend's son's birthday party today, and I totally didn't know it was today. So instead of blogging, I've thrown on the same dress I wore last night, threw a dress on Fifi, sent Scott to the shower, and as soon as he's out, we'll wake Lolly from her nap, put her in a matching dress to Fifi and hit this party. Stopping at the shop on the way to pick up his birthday present...

I so thought his party was next week.

More on the musical later. Might even attempt an audioblog on the subject, if I can manage to get away from children long enough to do so.

Here's The Thing That I Don't Like About Me and Worry Other People Perceive as a Negative Trait In Me

I wish I were better at keeping in touch with old friends. Especially my friends from back home. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm not even good at keeping in touch with my own mother, father and brothers!

This started out as a Facebook status, but there is actually more to say about it than is recommended for a Facebook status, so hey ho, a blog post!

Sometimes while Facebook-stalking old friends, I get quite sad realising how few people I keep in touch with any more. I still send a helluva lot of Christmas cards, with my self-involved annual family newsletter enclosed, but that's really sort of the grand extent of it.

It's sad really. I have always been blessed with lots of friends, and I truly love my friends dearly. It's not hard to get into my affections, and it's not hard for me to fall in friend-love with you. But one of my fatal flaws is how easily I move on once our everyday encounters cease.

I hate that about myself.

But it's not that I stop loving my friends, just because I don't see them as much. I just don't put much effort into keeping in touch. That sounds really horrible, like I don't care, but I do. I really, really do. Unlike my marvellous friend Lorna, who can literally run herself ragged making sure she keeps in touch with the millions of friends she has (and who I secretly wish I could be like), I just don't worry much about it. I suppose I just hope that those people who really care about me as much as I care about them understand what it's like, being busy all the time and not being able to see as much of them as I'd like, and won't take it personally.

I think in reality, most people are like this, they just don't admit it. And I think a lot of people also allow themselves to get all hurt and offended when people don't keep in good contact with them. But I don't. It doesn't hurt me at all. It's just what life is like.

I still have two people I call 'my best friends back home' - Devon and Amanda. I don't talk to either of them hardly at all, except the odd Facebook comment. But when we see each other, which of course is extremely rarely, there's none of this 'Why haven't you called me/ emailed me/ written me? I'm in a huff.' We just pick up where we left off, and we enjoy seeing each other again and catching up. I love that about them.

As my original comment mentions, I don't even keep in touch with my brothers. And yet I love my brothers. I am extremely proud of my brothers and talk about them a lot like they are fantastic superheroes (and they both kinda are, in my opinion). But I don't really call them often or write them. But I hope they know I love them just the same. I'm pretty sure they do. And they don't write or call me either, so I think we all feel pretty much the same about it. I'm over here, they're over there, and we'll see each other again at some point and catch up then.

But I get sad when I think of people who I really love and who probably are (or at one point were) offended that I don't keep in contact with them. I wish I could see them all face-to-face and say sorry for that, explain that it's just what I'm like, and, I don't know, hug them or something. One guy comes to mind always when I think of this, and while I don't know for sure he was hurt that we lost touch when I moved to Scotland, I still wish I could find him, hug him and tell him every time I think of him, I still smile and remember what an amazing friend he was and that actually, I really still miss him, six years later. And we'd have a Tequila Sunrise together like old times and listen to The Faint.

And if I could see my sister- and brother-in-law in Texas I'd so the same. Maybe not with a Tequila Sunrise and The Faint but perhaps a cold beer and some Johnny Cash.

And it's the same with my family. Especially nowadays - my mom and dad are divorced now, and I wasn't great at calling regularly when they were together in the same house, let alone now trying to keep up with both of them separately. I never even got around to telling my mom that I'd changed my email address and blog address until well after the fact (and many lost emails along the way), and I never told my dad that my mobile number wasn't working for nearly a month, and poor Dad thought I was ignoring his voice mails and screening his calls.

But there's no question, at least I hope not, that I love them both to death. Just don't take it the wrong way when I don't cry when we say goodbye at the airport or I forget to call back; it isn't personal. I just have to get on with it. I'd be a rubbish ex-pat if I couldn't get on with it. I'd be miserable day in, day out, if I couldn't get on with it.

I suppose that's exactly what it is. I can't live day-to-day where I am here, with my old life always on my mind. I have had to settle here. I've had to make my home here. I have enough friends here to try to stay in touch with. It's hard enough to make sure I keep up with the loveliest of people here, like Heather, Mhairu, Pauline, and the aforementioned Lorna. After all, they are the ones I might run into at Tesco, and I don't them cross with me. (Luckily, I don't think any of them are the type to get cross; they're all busy women too.) I just don't want people to think that I'm a fair-weather friend. Because I'm not. Boy, do I love my friends and family. I'm just not that good at, I don't know, SEEING them.

In fact, I barely even see my sister-in-law who lives two streets down, and I love her to bits - I mean, I love her so much. So, see, it really is just me, not you.

Okay, so. That's the end of my wild tangle of a single, almost-passing thought. A moment on Facebook immortalised into this. And take it as a sort of mass apology, if an apology was ever needed. All sparked because I requested to be friends with a guy called Tommy on my Facebook, and I started to think of all the good times with that whole crowd of people and how much I miss them, and then I went to see if Arkansas Rockers was still around, and then I just got really sad about not seeing any of them, probably ever again, and then etc etc etc.

NaBloPoMo

Years ago, when I was a blogger extraordinaire, I did things like NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). I was pretty dedicated to things like that.

I attempted it last year, I believe, or the year before, but didn't get too far. And this year's month started with me away for three days in the first place, so there's no sense in me hoping to achieve it this year either.

However, it is giving me a bit of incentive to try posting MORE in November, and everytime I see Alex's posts on Facebook, it motivates me to get on my blog and post something.

So, since my house is really tidy (shocking!) and there's only a few things I need to do this morning - aside from giving my baby daughter some attention, of course - I'll post something for you.

Here's what is the nicest thing in my life right this very moment:

I'm having a cup of tea, in a clean quiet house, and eating a Butterfinger. It's truly blissful.

But to break it down a little more truthfully, my house isn't ALL that quiet. Lolly is banging her cup against the TV while watching Dora the Explorer singing to the Pirate Pigs 'Give us back our treasure!'. And yes, it's clean, but not immaculate. I keep looking at the floor and thinking, 'Must get out the hoover.' But when I look at my floor and my only thought is 'Must get out the hoover', that means my house is amazing. Well, and there is a cereal bowl that needs to go into the dishwasher. And when I finish this cup of tea, it'll need to go in too. But really, it's still really nice this morning.

But deep down, life is far from unstressful. I have SO MANY THINGS on my mind. Some of which just need DONE, some of which just need handed over to God (very difficult), some of which don't seem like achievable goals and some of which I just downright cannot be bothered worrying about - and yet they worry me.

I keep making lists, thinking that'll help me organise the things I need to do, the things that I can't be bothered doing, and the things that feel unachievable. But each time I sit down to make a list, I can't remember it all. Then when I do remember, I've lost the list. So I go on feeling overwhelmed and stressed out.

But above all that, I feel fine. I'm drinking my tea (actually, I've finished my tea), and Lolly is shouting 'abre!' at the TV, and whatever happens with all these little things that concern me is really incidental, in the end. My family is happy, I am happy, and that's kinda what really matters, isn't it?

November

Just because it's been awhile (it's always 'been a while'), we've had a lovely start to the month of November.

On Tuesday, the 2nd, Scott and I, along with Sarah and Ian, Simon and Maria, and Kate and Faisal, headed off for the Glenmorangie House (pronounced 'glen-MOR-angie', like 'orangey') for three days. There we got to take a free (everything was free actually) cruise on Loch Ness, go clay pigeon shooting (I hit three out of ten in the air!), and take a tour of the distillery, followed by a whisky tasting.






The hotel - what a disservice calling it a 'hotel', it really is a house - was amazing. Our room, Morayshire, was massive, with a super-king size bed and a large, deep bath... ah, bliss. It overlooked the Avenue of Trees and further down, the water.




Each night (after pre-dinner drinks and canapes, of course), we were served a five-course meal, by one of the top chefs in Scotland. I couldn't pronounce even half of what was on the menus, but I loved nearly all of it. I especially loved how they served nearly half the courses with some sort of Glenmorangie cooked or poured in. Each morning we were served a four-course breakfast; I mean, I didn't know breakfast could HAVE courses. And for our 'light lunch' on the second day, we had sandwiches, butternut squash soup and salad. All this, of course, helped soak up all the whisky we drank.

We also had time to go take a walk by the seaside. It was beautiful. After our morning shoot, we wandered along rocks and sand of the shore and collected interesting shells and stones. Shells far more interesting than what you'd see at Lunderston Bay. And get this - we even saw a dead minke whale washed ashore. We thought it was a seal, at first, as it was already torn apart by the vultures and was missing a head, but it was in fact a whale. With a dead squid in its stomach. It was FASCINATING. Could only have been there a couple of days. I was furious my camera batteries had died halfway through clay pigeon shooting, meaning I couldn't get a photo.

It was such a lovely break. It was even nicer spending it with friends. I have such a greater appreciation of whisky now, and can even say I understand why the older the malt, the better. I used to like Glenmorangie Original, but now that I've tasted its 18 year old, its Qunita Ruban and its Nectar D'Or... oh yum.

But that's not all. We came back on Thursday night and collected the kids. Friday we just tried to have a relatively chilled day, and then Saturday we took them to Battery Park for the Myths & Legends festival, where they got to listen to storytelling and get their faces painted. Then that night we went back to see the fireworks and the mythological phoenix rise from the ashes. It was fun. I love fireworks and this year they did not disappoint.

So that's November so far. We've got a few other things planned, so it ought to be a fun month. The opening night for Panto is at the end of the month, so I've got lots of work to do, getting ready for it. And two kids' birthday parties, Cameron and Caspar. And probably some other stuff. Oh, yeah, like Thanksgiving! It's going to be a busy, busy month. But methinks it'll be grand.

Well, I SHOULD Be Cleaning...

But it's been a while since I blogged. I don't know how other mommy bloggers do it. I suppose if it's a priority to blog, you make time. My priorities these days, I'm afraid, do not include blogging.

They include things like *being cast two more shows totalling three in all at the moment* and trying to find a dry day to play tennis in.

(That's my wee update ^ there. I am going to be Shelby in Steel Magnolias and the Voice in You Made Me!)

It's not to say I don't think about blogging. I actually think all day long 'Oh, that would be a good blog topic.' Like Monday I was in Tesco and saw they'd put out all their Halloween costumes, and I thought about blogging about Halloween. Problem is, I don't have much of an opinion on the subject, and not bothered enough to form one.

(For the time being, I don't have a huge problem with it on the surface, and while I don't really want my little children going as scary things, I do love fancy dress [dressing up], and I have no problem with candy either!)

Or I think about blogging updates, because something is always happening around here, but updates are SO boring, and they insult the writer in me. I started a blog to share interesting thoughts and stories with the world, not to tell them about my macaroni and cheese incident. I save that for Facebook.

Or about my new HTC Desire mobile phone. (Heh, I got a new phone and I love it! But I am not going to blog about it... even if I just did. Sucka!)

No, unfortunately, my little brain is overcrowded as it is. But I don't want to stop blogging. I wish I still had enough readers to do some kind of wide plea for blog topics. I used to have so many readers! I miss you guys.

Maybe if I had some good blog topics. Maybe it's time to hit Facebook again!

I can't believe I got sucked into Facebook. It's shocking and humiliating.

Okay, back to tidying and entertaining my kids (by sticking on Peppa Pig).

Dancing Is Not a Crime

What a fantastic opening night! Last night was brilliant. I had so much fun with the show, and only made one tiny mistake in one of the dances. :D

Scott, my dad and Fifi came last night. Fifi LOVED it. Scott said she was mouthing along to all the words, until 'Holding Out for a Hero' started, at which point she BELTED it out. People three rows away were looking at her! By intermission, she was rolling her head and trying desperately to stay awake. (Ice cream at intermission helped, I believe.) She managed to stay awake until curtain call, at which point she passed out.

Oh, and she brought me flowers! How sweet is that. Thanks, Scott and Fifi.

I'll need to think to bring my camera tonight and get some photos backstage. But if you want to see photos of the performance, Inverclyde Now took some cracking ones.

My throat is still killing me. I woke this morning with no voice. Luckily hot tea and Manuka honey have helped bring it back. But I'm still trying not to talk much today to save it. Not only do I need to save my voice for the next two performances, but I have two auditions in just over a week for other shows and at the same time, my classes start, which of course, are singing classes. I really need a voice for that too. REALLY need it for that. How bad would that be if my first class was delivered with no singing voice?

Anyway, I'm having so much fun. Last night, a big group of people from the cast went out to a club, but I'm so glad I went home. Mostly because it was better for my voice going home and getting a good rest. But also I really enjoyed talking to Scott about the show. He really enjoyed it - and he's not a musical theatre person. It was fun talking to him about all his thoughts on the show and to hear him say he could pick out my voice from the chorus - and I was on key!

My dad seemed to enjoy the show too. Though (and I have to agree with him) he didn't think much of the Southern USA accents!!

So, two more performances. I'm incredibly excited. We're having lunch with others from the cast this afternoon, but I need to make sure I have time to make my chocolate no-bake cookies... Me and another cast member, Lee, are having a baking war. First night I brought chocolate chip cookies, but she outdid me last night with her brownies. I'm hoping I can regain some ground with my no-bake cookies, but honestly, I think her brownies have already won the war.

Everybody cut FOOTLOOSE!

Tonight is Opening Night of Footloose! I can't believe it! I'm feeling very excited about it, but also a little sad. If the show is tonight, then by Saturday night, the show will be done for good, and that's a bit sad. I've enjoyed meeting all the people in the show and seeing them regularly and making some friends. I'll feel a bit deflated when it's all over.

I'll feel a lot less stressed too but deflated all the same.

It's been a really fun experience for me. I thought after high school I'd never return to acting. As a stroppy teenager, I let too many things upset me and turn me off from the theatre world. But now, as a wiser (heh) older person, I realise that some of those things (the politics, the falseness of some, the arrogance of others) are just part of life in general and are not unique to the stage. As long as you keep yourself right and in amongst the right people (and at least play the game when you're with the wrong ones), as I've learned to do in all areas of my life, all this theatre stuff can really be a huge blast.

So, negativity aside (geez), I am SO EXCITED about the show tonight. It's typical that on Opening Night I'd wake up with a sore throat and the sneezes. But I'm drinking hot herbal tea with Manuka honey around the clock and intend to feel perfectly fine by tonight. I had some hot soup there too and that seemed to soothe my throat quite a bit.

Tonight is the night that Scott, my dad and Fifi come see the show. Fifi is ridiculously excited. She woke up this morning saying, 'Is today Footloose??' Then proceeded to prance around the house singing, 'Footloose, footloose!' while the rest of us tried to bury our heads in our pillows and go back to sleep.

In the car on the way to nursery, she asked if she could wear a crown to the show tonight. And she wants to dress '80's'. Apparently in her mind, crowns are totally 80's.

So it's gonna be a good day. I'm exhausted already, but really looking forward to tonight. I'm totally buzzing.

Though admittedly, that might be just a side effect of the lack of sleep, runny nose, and the four cups of honeyed tea I've had already this morning.