Regarding the other post I wrote about Harry Potter the Musical, here is the footage from the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference of me performing it in the contest. Thank you to Lisa Angle for videotaping the contest.
To recap, this was for a speedwriting competition. I was given a half hour to write a song for a musical based on the book Harry Potter (any one of them). This is the opening number to the first book.
More Than It Hurts You is about the Goldin family, Josh, Dori, and their infant, Zack. Zack has been brought to the hospital a couple times for ailments from unknown causes. Dr. Darlene Stokes determines that the mother is hurting the child to gain attention, and alerts child protective services. Drama ensues.
Here is the opening line:
“Fifteen minutes before happiness left him, Josh Goldin led his summer intern by the elbow to share in the hallelujah of a Friday afternoon.”
Chills, much?
Strauss’ line is destined to outlast many things that take up space in my memory. It stayed with me through the course of this riveting novel because I kept wondering, why did the author begin it fifteen minutes before the start of the *real* story?
Was it pointless exposition on office politics that should have been cut in the editing process or was it an opportunity to draw a parallel between office politics and life politics. I’ve known many a person to utter the words, ‘I can’t stand office politics.’ But perhaps office politics are no different than the politics of life, of living, or making a living, of watching lives, and of interacting with them. So many people think of office politics as some foreign world where people interact with one another on a superficial level and that none of them truly know one another. They appear to be friends, they even know certain details about their lives, yet in the opening chapter, Josh’s office comrades witness the moment of happiness leaving him, and they are concerned for, oh, say, a minute? And truly, more uncomfortable than concerned, wanting to immediately give him space, not be seen still enjoying their Friday afternoon. I don’t think this was not to say that work is a cold, cruel place, but to say, people are only truly hurt by their own individual circumstances, hence the title More Than It Hurts You.
I think it was Dale Carnegie who said people care more about their hangnail than your life-threatening cancer. Is Darin Strauss suggesting any less? If you are hurt by something, can no one else feel your pain? Do you think anyone truly understands your pain? And furthermore, do you care if they do? Particularly, do you even care about their pain if you are trying to relieve yours? And where does blame come in? And why, in this country, does blame share a direct link with race and religion? She’s black! They’re Jewish! Let’s immediately jump to those easy-to-label words because we’re desperate to relieve our own pain.
Strauss has turned out a beautiful novel about a family and a doctor’s pains, and their attempts to live through them, only to have fingers pointed and the looming words of race and religion, the general slap in the face that America has unfortunately delivered in the past.
Interesting read. Thanks, Darin, for the food for thought.
Strauss is blogging about his book tour on Newsweek.com. This latest is an amusing post because, well, any story that involves Debbie Reynolds and leftover Chinese is a story indeed.
As I mentioned in the previous post, I’m participating in game here at the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference called the Ultimate Write-Off, in which you write some thing on the spot from a given topic within 20-40 minutes. In the previous post, it was a poem. The other night, it was dialogue in the style of a randomly selected writer (Tennessee Williams). Last night, it was descriptive prose about food (Fannie Flagg was our judge):
Tonight, we had to write a musical number in 30 minutes from a musical based on a book of our choice (we had to pick from a list). I went with Harry Potter (seemed an easy option to me). Here you go (much more entertaining if you could have seen me unabashedly singing this when I have no singing voice at all):
EDITED: Here are links to the SBWC website or SB Channels that have the footage of me performing this song in the contest.
Harry Potter - The Musical.
opening number: “He Lives”
one man is on the stage (dedalus diggle), while owls fly about.
owls everywhere
owls everywhere
not a drop of moonlight
but owls in the air
what is so important
what can have been done
(he reaches and takes a letter from an owl, reads it, and gasps)
HE LIVES!
HE LIVES!
(villagers pour onto the stage, singing)
Did you hear? Did you hear? Did you hear–
He lives!
Did you hear? Did you hear? Did you hear–
He lives!
Tell us, tell us, tell us!
What can have been done!
(Dedalus sings)
The darkest of the wizard world
the darkest in the land
he tried to kill that little boy
with an evil wave of wand
He snuck into the Potter’s house
James tried to save his wife
But he-e who must not be named
Quickly took their lives
I am on Day Three of the Santa Barbara Writers Conference. It’s been great so far. Did I already tell you guys that this conference offers pirate workshops?
Aaaaargh!
I am seriously overwhelmed right now by all the workshopping, critiquing, lecturing, learning, blah blah blah–but all in the name of fun! And, uh, honing my craft, um, yeah, that too.
I am participating in the Ultimate Write Off. It’s a speed writing competition. Day one. 47 people. They gave us twenty minutes to write a coming of age story, fiction or non. I wrote mine about growing up in a bicultural household and a particular night when it became apparent to me that not everyone thought that was an okay thing (yes, a creepy redneck man was involved).
Day Two, they announced I had made the cut and I was moving on with the other 26 people (how they came up with this random number, I do not know). We were told to pick an object off a table. I picked up a Give Blood red rubber arm band. This seemed a better option to me than the worn, though clean, tighty whities. We were told after we picked the object to write a poem. We had 15 minutes. I do not write poetry. Except for the occasional haiku in honor of David Hasselhoff. Seriously! What’s a girl to do!!!!!
Here is my poem, in all its glory. This is how open I am people, I am sharing my poem with you. My POEM. I’m not posting it here, so you can gush how good it was. I’ve read good poetry. This does not fall into that category. My point in posting this is to show you that I stepped up to the challenge and wrote this in 15 minutes, and personally, I feel accomplished that I didn’t just walk out of that room and give up. In the words of the great Jean Claude Van Damme, “no retreat, no surrender.” (I laughed so hard just writing that. I love it when I crack myself up).
“Give Blood, Give Life”
A red circle
Wrapped around my wrist
It represents life
It represents blood
It says give blood
Another circle
A white circle
Wrapped around my wrist
It represents my life
It represents my blood
It says I am losing blood
A different circle
A red, wet, undulating circle
Nowhere near my wrist
It represents blood
It represents life
A last circle
A small, white circle
Wrapped around her tiny foot
She is a new life
She has my blood
I have given blood for life
Little No Limit has had a steady fever of 102 since Saturday and it’s been a sad, frustrating feeling, looking into her doped-up eyes (courtesy of OTC drugs and antibiotics) and thinking, huh, it’s a shame they don’t know why you feel this way. I’m so glad I pay through the nose for health insurance.
Besides the business that comes with a sick child, I’ve also been preparing for the Santa Barbara Writer’s Conference, which I’m attending for the first time (yippee!!) although the excitement is somewhat tempered by Little No Limit’s current health scene. Who actually wants to leave town when their baby is sick?
This is all to say, I haven’t been too visible in the blog world. So. Here are thirteen other blogs that may interest you:
1. Frog and Toad Are Still Friends– Touching and funny. Every. Single. Day. I’m so jealous as to how Beck finds the time to do this. And comment as much she does.
2. Three and Holding– Great writer. Great posts. I gave Janet a Perfect Post award many months ago and if I could, I’d give her one every month. For every post. But that hardly seems fair.
3. Toddled Dredge – One of the first blogs I started reading on a regular basis. Veronica is the most intelligent blogger I read. I need a dictionary sometimes. It’s embarrassing.
4. Alpha DogMa – If Alpha DogMa doesn’t make you laugh, then you must not understand humor.
5. Resident Alien – Mary, Mary, Mary. So cool, so worldly. And so quick to help out with the Japanese translating!
6. Weird Girl – What can I say? She’s weird (in a good way, obviously…)
7. Drama Queen – Someday, Angel and I are going to get drunk together. And it’s going to be hilarious.
8. Her Mind Lives in a Quiet Room – I love living vicariously through her. Because my mind lives in Europe.
9. Under Construction – Proud new dad to a pretty little girl! Yeah SRH! Congrats on never sleeping again!
10. Here in Idaho – Kristi should make money for how well she insults celebrities. And Kristi still hasn’t sent me her book (hint, hint).
11. Poppy Fields – Like description number 8, I dream of a life like Poppy Fields. Her scenic pictures make me swoon.
12. Planet Nomad – I never know what to expect from Planet Nomad, but I know it will always be of interest. And often make me laugh. Plus, I’ve always liked the word nomad.
13. Whee! All the Way Home – This woman rules the haiku.
Disappointed your blog isn’t listed? Perhaps next Thursday’s post. Same bat time. Same bat place.
Slowly but surely, my family is becoming a family that goes to the movies together. Our first outing was Ratatouille. Nothing terrible occurred, but they didn’t sit still. We decided it would be a while before we tried again. A Bee Movie. Not so bad. Little No Limit was antsy, then fell asleep. But Husband and I thought A Bee Movie was more like A Stupid Movie, so the experience didn’t get a full thumbs up. A few months ago, we went to see Horton Hears a Who, and oh, the triumph! The Boy actually cheered and gasped while watching the movie, ie he actually understood what was happening. The children not only sat quietly, they weighed enough to keep the folding seats down without the help of my bag or leg. Life was good.
Last night, we ventured out to see Kung Fu Panda. Minus a possibly painful excursion to the bathroom when I didn’t realize there was a step and almost bashed my head into the stair banister, the movie-going experience was uneventful. The Boy did talk a lot (“Oh no, he’s hurt!” “Oh, it’s really yellow!” “Why did he DO that?”), but most of the audience took it in stride.
So. About Kung Fu Panda.
Po is a big, lovable Panda (who you don’t wait in that hot, extra-long line at the zoo to see) who desires to be someone besides who he is: the son of a duck and heir to a noodle shop. Meanwhile, the biggest, baddest enemy of them all, Tai Lung, is on his way to destroy everyone and the two masters and the five warriors have to find the “Dragon Warrior” to defeat him. Kung Fu Panda has funny moments, replete with movie-style martial arts sequences that should please the Kung Fu Hustler in all of you.
The key to enjoying this movie is Jack Black. If you like Jack Black, you’re bound to enjoy a few laughs. If you don’t like Jack Black, you have probably stopped reading this by now. If you haven’t, then believe me, you have my most sincere understanding. I used to dislike Jack Black. I just didn’t think Tenacious D was as funny as everyone else. It didn’t help that everyone kept telling me that I would totally love it and built up my expectations WAY too high. But then School of Rock came along and changed everything. Nacho Libre helped too. As for Kung Fu Panda? Skadoosh. We’ll probably buy this one when it comes out on DVD.
And I’ll probably still have “everybody was kung fu fighting…” stuck in my head. Do you think Carl Douglas had ANY IDEA what a legendary song this would become?
Written by Riley on June 12, 2008 in: Dogs, Family | Tags: Dogs
We shaved the Notorious F.O.X. a few weeks ago. Last time she got shaved, I said Lion Cut and they actually made her look like a lion, complete with shaving her tail except for a pompom at the end. I guess I’m an idiot in the world of dog haircut vernacular – I really just thought lion cut and buzz cut were the same thing – because why would you WANT your dog to look like a lion? Really! Why?
You can get past a dog. Nobody f*cks with a lion.
We got her a buzz cut at PetSmart. It’s always amazing to everyone what a difference it makes to shave a Chow Chow. All that hair. ALL THAT HAIR. Gone. My sweeping and vacuuming time has dropped from twice a day to once every other day.
A couple nights ago, some friends came over. Their daughter, Lizard Queen (I call her this because she LOVES insects and lizards), is five. She’s only two weeks older than The Boy. If we lived in a different time or culture, they’d be betrothed to one another. I already have the perfect wedding slideshow pictures, of them as newborns, leaning against one another for support.
So Lizard Queen came to our house, and could not stop staring – STARING – at the Notorious F.O.X. with deep, serious concern in her big blue eyes. After they’d been at the house for an hour or so, she walked over to me and slipped her hand into mine, all dirty and rough from playing with roly polies, and motioned for me to lean down so she could whisper in my ear: “What did you do to her to make her shrink?”
