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davisgools · 4 years

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After he had read the newest edition of the Lima Community Theater Newsletter, Davis had been excited to audition for the Spring Musical. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of Spring Awakening (his father found it stupid and rather boring), Davis was auditioning. No matter what. Bryan Ryan could have been pitching an idea for a community version of the Spongebob Squarepants musical and he would have auditioned. There was a rush that came with the entire audition process, not to mention getting to stand on stage and have everyone’s eyes on him. He might have hated ‘community theater’ and all that it stood for, but he would never miss an opportunity to bless the Lima stage, and ears, with his own performance.

Preparing for a musical audition had always been one of Davis’ favorite parts. It was an excuse to break into his Broadway playlist and handpick a song that was going to be his destiny. It was just simply fun. For this audition, his song choice was a no brainer - In Love With You from First Date. While it wasn’t a classic song choice by any means, it was a song that was currently resonating with him… and maybe it made sense for his audition character of Melchior Gabor. While he wasn’t a wiz with Spring Awakening knowledge, he knew that Melchior’s character was definitely someone that seemed like he would handle his emotions in… a very different kind of way. He was snarky and confident, a person that wanted to go about things his own way and at his own pace - which was absolutely something Davis could understand.

Davis strolled into the Tibideaux Theater with an obvious air of confidence in what was about to happen. He had his own pre-audition rituals, but first, he had to make sure that his presence was something that everyone knew and could see. He was going to make this audition his best yet.

Once his name was being called, Davis took to the stage with an overly sweet smile as he took his position in center stage. “Hello, I’m Davis Goolsby and today, I’ll be auditioning for Melchior Gabor. I’ve prepared my rendition of In Love With You from the Broadway show, First Date. I’ve also prepared a monologue titled Pictures by Horace Holley. Thank you,” Davis finished as he clasped his hands together, resting his fingers against his lips before he was bowing slightly. He got into position shortly after, waiting for the piano to bring him into his audition piece.

“I never knew what love was like until I saw your face. Then suddenly I felt a love that time could not erase. Your eyes so sweet and piercing. Your manner kind yet strong. The kind of girl I could love forever. We’d spend the rest of our lives together.” Davis sang through the first lyrics easily, knowing that it was nothing more than the power of Gianna Stone carrying him through this piece. Most people thought of Davis as a heartless creature that was placed on Earth by an evil force instead of what he truly was - a headstrong and confident person. Gigi? She understood that. And even more than understanding that, she embraced him and never once had tried to change who Davis was. It was good. She was good for him. He loved her, and while he didn’t talk about it often (not even to her) he knew that she knew.

It was why he was singing the words with so much confidence and feeling - and also why a bundle of nerves were forming in his stomach for what the rest of the song was going to bring. She would hear about his song choice.

While the couple were typically a back and forth kind of thing, there was no telling that she was a complicated and sometimes frustrating person. On most days, Davis loved her, but on the other days, she was the bane of his fucking existence. It’s what made the entire song so easily to connect with.

“And in my life I don’t think I’ve ever,” Davis paused with the piano playing before he was trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. They weren’t on bad terms anymore. It didn’t make the song any less relatable, but still. He knew this could easily get his ass in trouble. “Been so freakin’ wrong.”

In a lot of ways, Davis was starting to grasp the kind of character that Melchior was. He was a complicated character, but one that shared a lot of Davis’ characteristics, or so he would claim if he was asked any kind of further questioning about his decision to audition for Melchior. Truth be told, he was auditioning for him because he was a lead role. Davis Goolsby was lead character material, something that he was excited to show with the rest of the song. It was definitely a song that bred a lot of emotional from himself, which was definitely something that mirrored Totally Fucked from the production at hand.

“You’re a bitch with no heart. You’re a liar. You are Satan, and I hate the way you snore at night. All your quirks piss me off and I don’t think I’m misstating your compulsive need to always be right. You’re bossy and judgmental, kind of tactless, boring too.”

As Davis performed the fast paced and more emotionally distraught lyrics of the song, he made sure to pour every ounce of emotion that he could muster into his performance. He was working the stage, moving all over the place as he gave it his all. This was surely an audition that Bryan Ryan was going to have to adore, right? He made eye contact with the director, giving him an easy wink before he was finishing off his audition with a softer and more emotionally vulnerable line of, “And I really can’t believe I ever fell in love with you.”

Okay, so maybe the lyrics didn’t exactly tell the love story between him and Gigi, but it was enough to make him feel the emotions that the song (and hopefully Melchior Gabor) was trying to communicate.

As Davis finished his audition piece, he took a couple deep breaths before he was breaking into his monologue performance. Acting and singing and performance had always been one of the foundations of his youth. Whenever kids were going to zoos and amusement parks with their parents, Dustin Goolsby was carting Davis to whatever Broadway production or performance coach that he could buy. Davis was born and bred for productions like this, and he would stop at nothing to secure his rightful position in the cast list.

“Thank you so much for listening and I can’t wait to hear any kind of feedback you may have for me,” Davis said with a beaming smile as he exited stage left. Today was going to be a damn good day, that much was certain.

#crhq:spring #// this is so long and FOR WHAT REASON????#also my antivirus was a lil too protective and won't let me download any mp3 so deal with the youtube link sry #also x2 shoutout to syd for helping me what a fckin angel

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years

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Be In My Eye

(Prompt 70)

Written by: @reachingforaspark on tumblr, Grace_d on AO3

Prompt by: @567inpanem

Prompt 70: No one Katniss knew got reaped, and after the 75th the games stopped, hunting became easier, she’s looking forward to graduation, and she feels a growing attraction to boy with bread but she’s clueless as to what to do after 1 ½ decades of acting role of son her father never had and man of the house. She approaches problem like stalking game: observe. She learns a lot but realizes she needs help from only one person: popular merchant and Peeta expert Delly who’s thrilled to help in manhunt <3

AN: Thanks so much for the prompt @567inpanem. I got super excited and planned out a multi chapter fic response to this prompt, but considering I’ve got two other two Everlark multi chapter WIPs already I abandoned. Instead I crafted a one shot from a scene in the story I planned, which still fits the prompt. When I have some free time I’d love to revisit and expand on the world presented in the prompt. Thanks to @xerxia31 and @javistg for organising!

Rating: General, minor coarse language.

Disclaimer: This is a fan work and I don’t own The Hunger Games!

Be In My Eye

Peeta Mellark is everywhere since the Revolution. At the moment, he’s between me and my way back into the district. And he’s not alone.

I pull back into the tree-line, watching as he walks in circles around the meadow. Twin blonde heads flash in the sunlight. He’s got his niece, Ava, scooped against his broad chest with one arm, a bag tucked under the other. He must find what he’s looking for, because he sets Ava on her feet and pulls a blanket from his pack. Peeta always spends a few hours on a Sunday looking after his brother’s toddler.

It’s a perfect spring day, and he’s picked the end where the wildflowers grow, under the overhang of the great oak tree that reaches across into the fence. Recently someone has hung a swing from the heavy branch, and it drifts softly in the breeze.

Belatedly, I realise there’s no reason for me to be lurking in the woods. I have a hunting permit now, and special permission to be beyond the fence. I hear Delly’s cross voice in my head. He’s just a boy, she’d told me, not a damn bear. Stop hiding. I’ve discovered that Delly Cartwright is an unexpectedly bossy ally. But for whatever reason I don’t feel like strolling out of the trees and interrupting this scene.

Peeta is propped up on his forearms while his niece sits in front of him, babbling away. From here I can just hear her bright tones, punctuated by squeals as she occasionally reaches over to pat his face. Babies in Twelve are round cheeked and happy now, and Ava is no exception. My mother and Prim cooed for a week over her the first time she attended the new check-up clinic. I’m not one for babies normally, but now the Hunger Games are abolished, even I have a smile for Ava, with her dimpled chin and blonde curls.

I can see Peeta’s concentrating, the tilt of his head familiar. It’s how he looks when he’s filling out the chalkboards in class, or listening to the New Panem broadcasts we get once a week from District Thirteen. I creep closer, sticking to the shadows until I can make out the dimple in his cheek as Ava pokes his nose. He catches her hand before it ends up in his eye and pretends to bite it. Ava squeals and toddles off, Peeta chasing her. Something about the scene makes my stomach hurt, and I brush it away.

It’s just the normal discomfort I have when I look at Peeta lately. It’s worse when he smiles, and awful when he laughs. I’ve chalked it up to ongoing guilt about never thanking him for the bread, compounded by the realisation recently that Peeta has probably never thought twice about it. Since the Revolution he’s demonstrated his goodness a hundred times over, volunteering every second he’s not in class or at the bakery, at the school, for the new construction, he even carries clinic supplies from the train station for my mother.

He’s left a sketchbook open on the blanket, pencil forgotten. My eyes linger on it for a second, but instead I track the two Mellark’s in the meadow. I walk parallel to their path, them in the sun, me in the trees, a fence between us, as Ava waddles from place to place ripping flowers from the ground and handing them to Peeta. He accepts each one with serious thanks. The sight of Peeta cupping fistfuls of daisies in his wide hands would be amusing if it wasn’t so achingly sweet. Something’s wrong with my damn stomach again. I’ll talk to Mum about it when I get home.

He herds Ava back towards the shade, and distracts her with cut up apple slices while he picks up his pencil again. If I climb out onto the branch supporting the swing I’ll probably be able to see what he’s doing, but I hesitate. There’s pretty good foliage cover, it’s not like I would be interrupting, but it feels like it’s crossing some kind of line. I try to remember if Delly said anything about that. Somehow I don’t think it’s come up yet. We’re still on the ‘how to say Hello to Peeta’ stage. Casting my mind about, I do remember her saying, Show you’re interested in what he’s interested in. Checking out his art is being interested right? I’ll just scoot out and scoot back before he even notices me.

Deciding that sounds reasonable, I spin my game bag around my back and scale the tree, my handholds sure and steady. I inch along the branch on my stomach, shifting out until I’m almost overtop the swing. Ava’s still got an apple slice clutched in one hand, and a stick in the other, scratching it against the dirt. And Peeta is sliding his pencil against the paper, drawing. I suck a deep breath. It’s incredible. He’s loosely sketched Ava, crouched in a pile of wildflowers, plump fingers clasped around a stem. With each run over the outline he refines her soft form, lines becoming clearer as if he’s pulling her out of the page. It’s mesmerising, and I rest my head against the branch as I follow his hand across the page. The breeze blows my hair against my forehead and I relax into the tree.

I watch Peeta’s hand gripping the pencil lightly, follow the line of his forearms, watching the muscles underneath his skin ripple a little. The light hairs on his arms glint gold as the breeze catches the light and dappled shadows play over his shoulders. Between the rustling leaves around me, the swishing of the grasses and the soft scratching of Peeta’s pencil, I feel trapped in a sort of dream. He flips the page, starting a new sketch, and a rope braid begins to form. My daydream is interrupted by Ava clambering on Peeta’s lap, a prize clutched in her hand.

“Rock!” she demands, holding it out to him.

“Thanks Ava,” he says, “what a pretty rock.”

I smile a little to myself.

“Apple!” She points to the basket and Peeta agrees, picking up a daisy and tucking it into her hair. It slips straight through her thin curls.

“Tree!” she points again and Peeta attempts to tuck the daisy behind her ear. It falls out, dragged by the heavy head of the flower. “Bird!” she squeals, ducking out of Peeta’s reach. “Swing!” she points again.

I bite my lip, holding back a laugh, as Peeta uselessly tries to fix the flower in her hair.

“Girl!” Ava squeals.

I freeze. Ava’s pointing directly at me. I wiggle backwards, trying to retreat.

“Girl?” Peeta sounds confused as his head swings around. “Oh!”

He’s seen me.

“Hey Peeta.” I say lamely, sitting up with a little wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hey Katniss,” he says, squinting up at me. “Fancy seeing you…up there.” The left corner of his mouth lifts.

I scoot forwards and quickly lower myself down the rope swing. I drop onto the wooden seat. What did Delly say again? Smile, (no not like that Katniss, you aren’t a maniac), and be nice. I force a smile onto my face. It feels like a grimace. Two pairs of blue eyes watch me. I’m suddenly aware that I’m a hot, sweaty mess, with a bag full of dead animals, and there’s a leaf in my braid.

“Katniss, this is Ava,” Peeta says politely, flipping his notebook closed. “Ava, this is my friend Katniss.”

She tucks herself into Peeta’s side. “Bird now?” She asks.

Peeta laughs, lifting the girl into his lap. “Yes, Katniss is just like a bird. And when she sings all the other birds stop to listen it’s so pretty.” He busies himself with finger-combing Ava’s hair.

“Preddy.” Ava repeats seriously, looking at me.

I flush and look away. No wonder I can’t talk to Peeta. I can hardly cope with him telling a silly story to a child.

Sit up straight Katniss, Delly chides me. I roll my shoulders back. Ask him about himself.

“How are you?” I say and cringe at my pathetic conversation starter.

“I’m good thanks. Ava and I are having a lovely picnic. Aren’t we?” He says smoothly, tickling Ava’s sides and smiling a little at me. “And you? Good hunting today?”

“Yeah, very successful.” I kick my foot against the ground, pushing myself on the swing a little. “I forgot my key, for the gate, that’s why I was in the tree. Had to get home.” I stumble over my lie.

“Well lucky for us then. We got to see you in your natural habit.” Peeta says. He’s doing that half smile of his again.

I scowl and pull the leaf from my hair, feeling more like a wild thing than ever.

“Hey! Aim that laser glare elsewhere.” Peeta protests, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant that as a compliment.”

My stomach rolls. I’m saved from the horror of trying to work out what to do with a compliment from Peeta by him letting out a horrified yelp and lunging for Ava. “Ava! Spit that out.”

She’s got a bundle of dandelions clenched in her chubby fist. A stray yellow petal is stuck to the drool on the side of her chin. I laugh and reassure him that dandelions are completely edible. I’ve eaten enough of them.

“Are you sure?” He asks. He flops back on the blanket, propping his hands behind him. “Oh right, apprentice botanist and resident woodland expert. That’s exciting.”

I nod, surprised he’s heard about my job offer. I guess most people have, new opportunities like that are exciting in Twelve. I push myself on the swing a little, lifting my feet out of the grass.

“You can’t eat these can you?” He gestures to the pile of white flowers beside him. “I feel bad. We practically stripped the whole meadow.”

I laugh.

“You can make wine with them, but I have a better idea.” I say.

I kneel down beside him on the blanket. I run my thumbnail through the stem of a daisy, then thread another daisy through it, showing him what I’m doing. Peeta picks up the method quickly, pulling together his own short string of flowers. Ava wanders back over, sitting between us, leaning on my bare knee with her sticky fingers. I hum to her as I thread dandelions as well as daisies together, trying not to look at Peeta’s hands.

“How do I finish it?” Peeta asks eventually.

I take his short chain from him, rounding off the end to make a tidy crown. I lay it onto Ava’s head. She looks a picture, with her round blue eyes staring seriously at me and the daisies floating on her golden curls. Peeta’s looking at her too, a gentle smile on his face. There’s a smattering of golden freckles across the bridge of his nose that I’ve never been close enough to see before. My stomach flutters again.

Impulsively, I lean over and place my completed chain on Peeta’s head. “For you.” I say, pushing his messy waves off his forehead.

I realise what I’ve done just as Peeta reaches up to grab my hand, startled. I shoot to my feet, knocking Ava back into Peeta’s lap.

“Now you’re matching.” I stammer, avoiding his wide-eyed gaze. Ava seems unaffected by my awkwardness, blowing me a bye-bye kiss as I scoop up my bag and bolt across the meadow, hand tingling.

I try to think of what Delly would say in this circumstance, but all I can recall is her parting advice.

Just be yourself.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #reachingforaspark #567inpanem #prompt 70

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kristinqueso · 5 years

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Stress Relief Article for the Stressed Out

This life has a new and unexpected way of keeping your thoughts tangled up in mystery or just the simple things that gives you relief from your current reality. As many of you may have noticed, no matter what tier you are nestled into, happiness always comes into question. So many articles talk about manifesting your spirit to start working on the rapport of extension(sp?). So what’re a few of the points made in order to achieve your one true goal? Many times they will bring up valid points about environment, mental state and “play time” for adults to have the ability to have a feeling of fulfillment. After some digging I found that there are a few good reasons to take into consideration in order to grow in mind, body and spirit.

The environment that you grow up in and the environment you surround yourself with will be two separate factors that has way of determining your intended focus. So let’s talk about the environment you have surrounded yourself in based on your decision making skills. The notion of actions being somewhat contagious can show a bread crumb trail. What I mean by that is, where there is positivity surrounding your waking moments and the negative ones that may influence you into taking on that mindset. One way of negativity is thinking that you are entitled to certain tastes in life, feeling as if you do not have enough or constantly ridiculing every aspect of your life without appreciating what you do have going for you. It is easier to complain about everything you can't control but it seems once that ship as sailed, most find it enlightening to find topics or activities that they love the most to give a positive light within themselves.

Next in line is the mind state that has been constructed from the decision making skills you make during each and every encounter that sets a stage. Whether you have moved, a loner, a social butterfly or anything between, it will affect in a way that your outlook is set on either making friends, managing friendships and all out getting away from the crowds so that you can center yourself. The development is fascinating for this reason: it is imperative to make your mind up. Even being called “bossy” or a “push over” is the way they describe your character because it may be more than their own…or it is that you are reflecting a side of their personality they may not unlock until put into the predicament, so they find it unbearable to currently deal with. In truth your mind can either bend you or break you with your unconscious habits that may emerge when something signals your brain to say, “okay now you can act out.” Believe it or not, there a many simple ways to embrace a clear mindset without claiming to be something your not. Meditation has been practiced for centuries and has left a resonating impact in our communities today. Even in yoga the practice is highly recommended to defeat the limitations your mind has set, leaving room to grow beyond this and allow your body to relieve any tension gathered. The best part is that it takes a little to no time at all because this is apart of your me time. With 15 to 30 minutes on the clock, a difference can be felt rather than just hopping up out if bed to stay on the go. Even taking time to stretch for 10 minutes will leave feeling fresher and more inclined to eat a good breakfast before tackling each day by force.

Which leads to the lasting argument of what “play time” for adults is and how it can be done with the constant hustling throughout the days, weeks and months. Now I’m not saying that sneaking into a playground late at night is necessary, but it can play a role into reliving stress when it is done during the day at the right time. To create a quick example, I myself, enjoy going on swings so that I can lean back and exercise while having the time of my life. Especially the responsibility gene that either develops or dwindles, will become an active partner in how you wish to focus on something else and realize that it IS your responsibility to give yourself time. Here is a better example of how to give yourself the time you deserve: writing poems, journal entries, drawing, sketching, coloring, jumping rope, playing video games, cooking, baking, photography, videography, the works! So don’t feel like you have to sit in on a seminar that you are not going to enjoy nor grasp because each trade you choose has a top tier, so don’t be afraid to take yourself to the top. If you enjoy psychology, working with kids or anything else in that matter, you can make a living with what you love so ignore the one’s that didn’t take the opportunity, swandered it on pointless materials that they later had to sell just to continue their lifestyle of sorts. Create your own lifestyle in which you feel comfortable in and keep at it. Everything will not be for everyone and all you can do is just do your best!

Thank you for taking the time to read this article on a topic that most of us can find struggling, stress and being over encumbered with stress snapping at your heels. It gets rough. Keep these three main totems of enlightening knowledge so that your days may be a bit brighter than the last. None of this will be easy in the beginning because most “shiny” things in life are not always free not do we always want a great mass of lazy effort. In truth, we all want to work for what we are truly worth and earn what we know we are capable of. Follow along for more insightful knowledge, how-to advice and great ways to build your business effectively.

#writing #productivity #stress relief #stressing out #how to relax #calm

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sheeparecutest · 5 years

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An open letter to my high school Theatre teacher. (With names changed)

Dear Mr. P,

You hurt me. You hurt me in ways you could never imagine during the time in my life when I was most vulnerable. It is only through my family’s support and my utter stubbornness that I am still acting today, but there are many people who can’t say the same.

You are a teacher, a leader, a creator of a program, and a role model. But your behavior towards so many of the people in your program left you with a weak group and problems you created that you, at some point, will need to face. You might think that you are just doing what is best for your program, your students, and your career, but in reality what you are doing is hurting everyone. You did damage to some people that will never allow them to view theatre in the same way. Something that used to be a source of comfort and fun became something they regret even being a part of, something they need to stay away from. What you did is unforgivable. It caused a young man to give up on his acting dreams, it caused a young woman to hate her body, it was likely a contributor to a beautiful lady’s suicide attempt. What you did is, I know, all to common, and therefore people think that makes it excusable, but it is not.

Despite what I have said so far, you likely have no idea what you have done, and if no one ever tells you the mistakes you have made, you never will. Though I wish there was a simple explanation for what you have done, there never is. In the most basic terms you are failing at everything you should be as a high school drama teacher, a supporter of dreams, a string of reality, a teacher of life skills, and an adult in any situation. You have failed at giving people chances to learn, at treating kids like they are kids, at using your resources, and at using your power to influence your program for the better.

The last day of my last show at High School I told the cast of the short play festival something I had never admitted to anyone, really, not even myself. All of the seniors were doing their tradition of saying how much they loved the program and you, and giving their funny parting words of advice to the underclassmen. It got around the circle to me, and I could:n’t find it in myself to lie like I had for the past two years. I couldn’t find the strength to tell everyone that I had loved all of them and that I would come back the next year and would be cheering for them. Instead I did what is really acting, I took a deep breath and I expressed my emotions, my self in the truest way I could. I told everyone in that room that I had had a bad experience in the program, that I never felt included or liked. I told everyone what no one had told them about their program before, that it was the most exclusive group of people I had ever talked to. As much as I am sure you would like to blame that on the students and their “gossiping” and their “bad words” etc. It was not really their fault. The people you blamed for setting your program, your classes on a bad track, were not the problem. The problem was the people you loved, but their behavior was not really their fault either. It was learned, and I’ll give you 2 guesses on who I believe the fault lies.

I was the makeup artist for our theatre program for a year: I did makeup design for a total of 7 plays. I tried to do things that other people wouldn’t have thought of, and I tried to make sure that my ideas would work before I presented them to you. But every time I came up with something fun, new, or interesting, you “heard” that I was working behind your back, that I was trying to do the costume designers job, that I was hurting your program by giving you something people hadn’t seen before. You were told one thing by one person who had heard about one bit of research I was doing and you made assumption upon assumption upon assumption, and never once stopped to think that maybe you were in the wrong, even after my dad yelled at you for not even listening to what I was trying to do. You didn’t think you were in the wrong, even after the vice principle got involved with that girl because she was going through extreme body struggles, because of you. You didn’t think it might be your fault when you lied to the entire school about what you were going to do for the one act. IT WAS NEVER YOUR FAULT.

I can remember every single time you told me I wasn’t good enough, or as you put it “didn’t have enough experience”. The first was, maybe, excusable: you were telling a Junior in her first ever drama class that she might not be able to advance to Theatre 2 without Theatre 1. What you seem to have forgotten about this conversation was the rest of it, the part where I told you about the plays I had written, directed and acted in with my cousins. Maybe they weren’t “real” plays, but they felt real enough for a shy introverted girl who didn’t believe she could act. I told you that I was willing to work hard to catch up, do private lessons with you, work outside of class for hours, what ever I needed to get to the point where I had the “experience” you needed. Because how was I supposed to get experience if I could not get any role because I didn’t have experience? I had tried for the Shakespeare play the year before, but didn’t get in, possibly because of my commitment to cello, but likely because of that same “lack of experience”. I transferred into the Theatre 2 class, despite it being directly contrary to what my therapist had recommended the previous year for my mental health. Not only that, but from November all the way to May, I sat in your advanced class and watched, participated in the exercises when I could, tried to learn. I made it into the musical, as ensemble but that was better than nothing. I finagled my way into Midsummer, managed to convince you to let me stage manage the one act, and just decided I was backstage for the last show of the year. I worked as hard as I knew how, given that you never really taught us how to learn. I poured my heart and my soul into the program, I learned bass, I let someone else use my makeup, I watched as my friend repeatedly was cast in smaller parts than anyone else, including your 10 year old daughter you kept bringing in to play roles.

The next time was toward the end of that year, after the auditions for the advanced class, auditions that I worked hard on and delivered what I still believe to be some of my best, most passionate work. As I offered to be on Theatre council, a job I later learned I did not want, again you told me I wasn’t experienced enough to learn more. I recall exactly what you said, but to paraphrase, “I wouldn’t let you into this class if you weren’t a senior next year. You just don’t have enough experience.” There it was again, and then a last time as I was enthralled with the idea of directing a short play. “We need people with more experience”.

You told me time and time again, not always as directly, but always just as clearly that because I hadn’t been acting since I was 5 that I could not be part of your program. I tried to find every way to be part, I tried acting, I tried doing makeup, I tried costuming, I tried tech, I tried directing, I tried stage managing and every time you had a different reason why I could not be part of it. “She’s bossy” “She doesn’t understand my vision” “She’s overworked” “She needs a break”. And every time you told something like that to anyone I knew I heard about it and it broke my heart. You made no secret of who were your favorites, they always got the leads, Joseph and the narrator in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Titania, the main character, villain, and narrator in the one act, the spy, villain, sheriff, and others in the 39 steps, the witch and baker’s wife in Into the Woods, the villain/love interest in Coriolanus, the Assistant director for that same play, one of the 4 directors for your student directed short play festival. And all of these roles were played by a total of 2 people in the span of 2 years, that is not even including Charpae, and a soloist in Mary Poppins as a freshman. The list could go on. One of these people was a senior like me last year, President of the drama club, and the other was a Sophomore when she became the narrator in Joseph, Titania, and the villain in the 39 steps, and is going on to be drama club president this year.

I want you to take a second and try to put yourself in my shoes, a sweet girl who was trying something that she thought would finally allow her to express her true self and cope with the depression she was just figuring out she was struggling with, and then an all too aware part of your program who got to see every way you hurt any person in the program as she wonders if theatre is really where she belongs. I want you to pretend that you are me and then tell me that you would not have given that shy scared girl her time to shine, her time to learn, the encouragement she needed, even if it meant a dip in your program’s success.

That is all I needed from you, a line in a play before you were forced to give me one due to the suicide attempt of my dear friend, a part like you promised that you would try to give all seniors in the musical, an official understudy of a part, anything besides annoyance and invisibility.

All you saw from me, from your stage manager, from the young man, from the young woman, from the girl who had survived suicide, from the girl you blamed entirely for a fight she was only part of, from the girl who had one line in Christmas Carol while others had many parts and hundreds of lines was that we were in the wrong, that we had somehow made a mistake that you had to fix, when all too often we had no guidance and were stumbling around in the darkness trying to find a light switch so that we could help ourselves and often even more, others. And when often you had told us all to close our eyes and spin around while you turned out the lights and left the room.

Your problem is that you cannot bear to be an adult, your problem is that you should not be leading any group of people, especially people as fragile and suggestible, and inexperienced as high school students.

You hurt me so much, and I don’t think I was ever forgive you, but I guess I can thank you, because your awfulness is what has inspired me, inspired me to be someone I never thought I could, and you didn’t either.

Sincerely,

Someone who really truly hates you

#theater #hate #suicide #high school theatre #high school teacher

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blandwriting · 3 years

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It's been a long pause, where have I been? Mostly procrastinating at knowing how to be a functioning adult. Despite my flaws, characteristically I'm still very much the same. Major Depressive Disorder, a term to prescribe me antidepressants at a low yet effective amount to keep my anxiety at bay. Effexor XR, Side effects include loss of appetite, drowsiness, blurred vision, fatigue, dry mouth, nausea, sweaty palms, leg tremors, insomnia; I guess the cure and the ailment are one in the same. I'm functioning now at a rate where I feel almost numb enough to feel sufficed by my less than mediocre existence. Thirty years old, greying hair and pubes, a long list of non established idea's that never got off the ground. Financial freedom.... We just reinstated a credit card due to the pandemic taking away our wage and making us less than satisfactory to pay for our fancy Meriton apartment in Mascot. Paces ahead but still trailing behind. I always find myself romanticising life.... Looking for the hidden posies in the mess. No wonder my outlook had degraded to catatonic self destructive seeking missile. I was hit by a car and rolled up onto the dash.... fell to the ground miraculously leaving unscathed only bruised and badly shaken... although the longing for greater injuries if not death was the only thing I could fixate on. Why was I so depressed... why was I so unnerved at my miraculous and somewhat outstanding ability to survive a car driving directly into my right leg without so much as even breaking a bone? I flew over the top of the bonnet and rolled down onto the wet and unforgiving bitumen with nothing more than a manic episode. It opened up a huge sinkhole.... the medication was the only thing stopping me from taking my own life. I cared for nothing. I've had a lot of sobering moments in my short by well worn life. But sitting across from my doctor with tear stained cheeks, quivering bottom lip and shaking hands, I'd spent the last three days just scream crying every moment I had left with my swelling thoughts of self harm and suicide. I simply no longer wished to live.... My doctor worried expression painted across her face sat there and listened to me, as my emotions heightened and I cried out that I was fine... everyone said I was fine... so if I'm fine then why do I no longer want to live... Something has to change... I'm exhausted.... I simply no longer wish to exist, I am meaningless and broken I'm discarded and used, People whom only benefit from myself keep me around I am not loved, I never had been unconditionally loved. She sat there mouth agape... "Krystal..." I looked up to her, With what I can only imagine would have been one of the most pained looks I've ever given another person... " You're not going to kill yourself are you?..." she said furrowing her brows at me with a downturned expression, I looked to the right with my lips pressed into a straight line, rubbing the edge of my thumb nails to the underside of my thumbs, swapping them back and forth, as I looked to my left avoiding eye contact but ruminating on how I felt... softly I let out " I don't know anymore". She reached her hand across the table and asked for my left arm as my right was rendered useless by the bruising. I handed her my hand, hers warm the warmest hand I've felt in a long time, " If you kill yourself Krystal I'll be very angry with you, It will hurt everyone you love, You make me laugh everytime you come in, there are so many other choices".

In that moment I looked at her, I knew I couldn't do it, I'd been held accountable. My heart swollen she wrote me a prescription and I'd left that office with a follow up appointment booked, before I walked out of her room I asked her for a hug, In that moment I felt loved, truly loved with an unbiased heart, She literally didn't have to at all, but I just so needed a hug without answers without question, I just needed that in that moment. To feel loved.

This is the thing, loved. A feeling every human being on the face of the planet longs for a feeling of complete and total acceptance. That is all I've ever been looking for, to feel accepted. I grew up in an unconventional yet familiar family story, My mother freshly 18 two weeks out of the legal boom gates, and my Father turned 22 an hour and fourteen minutes after I was born, It was the typical Australian 1991 period, Still heavily influenced by Christianity, My mum was placed in a separate wing from the other mothers who were Married or accounted for, She and dad were on-again off-again young lovers with a fiery relationship built on jealousy drama and pure attraction, I came into the world on a Monday, it was Mercury retrograde, need I say more. Mum didn't have a lot of money or a stable household at that time, she was living in-between homes, Momentarily we lived in the garage out the back of her mothers house, a red back spider infested ex photography studio and teenager hangout spot, They had a tumultuous relationship themselves, That's the difficulty with family scars, My father from memory lived in a share house with friends, he and his parent's also from a not so forgiving background, both of my parents were dragged up I wouldn't really say either had the golden childhood either of them really deserved, two seperate sides of two different coins, but both resulting in the universal fate of their meeting and my existence. It wasn't long and without shock before my parent's broke up. My dad wasn't ready for fatherhood, he was still drinking and fighting and doing whatever he wanted to do, and mum a young mother had taken on the role of responsibility with a bit more of a stiff upper lip, Rightfully so. He and she were again on and off again for the most of my formidable years, I remember my mum writing notes on a phone pad, back when corded phones were a thing and you were stuck in one place, She'd write his name with hearts and little doodles, I also remember her agonising cries when they'd broken up. It wasn't unusual for Mum to drop me at dad's and for he to leave me with his latest fling and I'd give them hell while he went out stalking down Mum wherever she was. I remember the arguments and my dad's alcohol induced rages towards mum. He showing up to our cottage at random hours banging on the doors and window's to be let in, I remember being dragged out of bed at 2-3-4 am to be placed in a cold Torana to drive around because he was in a violent frenzy smashing every valuable mum had collected on her very small wage she was earning working at a pub to support us, to give me all she could. He'd come in and ruin everything, our tables our chairs the television he'd smash her beds up throw the kitchen around smash the dining tables and chairs, a violent and unstoppable force, and then just like a hurricane he would dissipate and we would rebuild; I don't know how my mother did it, that man didn't even pay the child support he was owing, how do I know this as an adult I went into my centrelink history and saw all of the unpaid arrears.... funny that.

Due to my home life being so far from average or normal I really focused on my imagination, I was plagued with nightmares and an extreme amount of anxiety.... But we didn't really know or talk about mental health in children back then... So I just played with our cats and dogs, singing on the swing alone or annoying our Landlord who owned a sign writing shop out the front, I'd collect snails or grab my dog and escape to the hair salon out on the main road our cottage was behind. The creativity really appealed to me, it gave me an escape from an otherwise crippling existence even for a small child, I was so loved and my mum did everything she could to prove that so, but I just felt so conditional.... I think even as a small child below the age of five I knew that my mothers life would be different if I didn't exist... At school there were rumours around about my family so obviously the children were biased based upon their parents opinions even as early as preschool mum and I faced adversity... I was an outcast from a poor family going to a Lutheran preschool in an affluent area, my mum showing up in a Commodore to drop me off, young and beautiful, I found it difficult to make friends, although I had one best friend but she ended out going to the adjoining Primary school and I were to be moved to the state school three doors down from our cottage.

When I started at my primary school there was 27 students from year 1 to year 7, there were Three educators, Miss S was year 1 - 3, Mrs B was mathematics and science and the Principal Mr F educated year 4-7. I'd made some friends but I was a little off-beat and bossy and a real stickler for the rules so I was always telling on everyone, I wasn't overly athletic or smart, I was more interested in writing or talking or reading than really doing any actual school work. I remember vividly being in trouble for talking while we were doing maths which I still very much struggle with today.... But I ended out being put in time out and I sat there and thought I'd counted to a thousand... because I was entirely bored.... Miss S walked past and I told her " Miss S I counted to a thousand". She looked down at me and said " No you didn't, You silly girl you don't know how to... now be quiet". I'm still cut about that... Mole.

There were many times in those years I was subjected to questionable people and activities many in which I know for sure, No child of mine is ever having sleepovers at their friends houses.... and I mean it. I was socially under developed and preferred the company of adults to children... I didn't fit in with kids my age and the ones I was socialised with were little sicko's with weird parents...

Surprisingly my parent's got back together when I was around age 7 or 8... My dad was working overseas and for some reason mum and he decided to get married by this point my mum had my first younger brother and She and Dad got married...... even that day was a flop for my poor Mum... he ended out going on a four day drinking binge with his friends and mum was left to clean up the mess of the wedding after party and retire home alone. Romantic right?.... I love and adore each one of my four younger brothers and I am so thankful for their existence they’re all individually wonderful and loving and kind i just find it difficult to sometimes sit there and think about how different my mum’s life could have been... had none of us existed.... although I am grateful sometimes for existence I just wish that my dad had dealt with his demons and maybe had gotten some help, flash forward a few years and dad ended up in rehab for six weeks during that time he’d seen mental health professionals but nothing came from it... he just decided to not take his Zoloft because “he hates feeling happy” He for some reason needs aggression which for me is something I just cannot simply understand, now as an adult I recognise my parents have their own issues their own histories and past just as we all do, but it’s one of those things where when I was younger and learning about the world my perception wasn’t of that but only of a lack of unconditional love, now as an adult I’ll do upmost anything to prevent being like my father, so when offered the help I took it... there weren’t other options in that moment for me to be functioning... I just hope I made the right choice.

As a teenager I experienced the usual laziness, my household was filled with children and crying and new borns the precession of another brother came closely after the first was born and mum was dealing with a “hyperactive” toddler and a newborn and myself now a pre-teen.... I’d moved school’s by this point but realistically speaking and I’ll cut it fairly short, I never really fit in with anyone or anything.... Without being academically gifted or Athletically gifted... my value wasn’t highly ranked... I spent most of my lunch breaks playing Chinese checkers in the library or reading books, I loved books and Encyclopedia’s, hyper-fixating on certain topics and being drawn to the mystics and paranormal.. I would spend hours pouring over pages within books my Aunties had gifted me for Birthday’s or Christmas’s. I feel like my time filled within that school was also darkened by my own inability to behave like a “normal person” I don’t know if at the age of ten I was acutely aware at all about my inability to fit in... all i know is getting choked out at lunch time and ran away from wasn’t the best...

I’ll continue the story later.

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jenniferpalmer94 · 4 years

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wineanddinosaur · 4 years

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Amanda Victoria, CEO & Co-founder of Siponey, Is Done With ‘Toxic Work Environments That Lack Diversity’

At the helm of three trailblazing companies, Amanda Victoria is a force to be reckoned with. In the early 2000s, she began her career in spirits. In acquiring a passion for whiskey early on, she worked at numerous reputable New York City craft cocktail bars such as Pegu Club, PDT, and Dutch Kills — all while juggling her studies in advertising and marketing communications, media, and French language/cinema.

With her academic and professional pedigree, she landed her first full-time job with William Grant & Sons as a national spokesperson for Lillet, the French aperitif of Bordeaux. With opportunities to travel and teach, she expanded her knowledge base by studying in the Court of Master Sommeliers, all while cultivating a personal love of wine. Eventually she went on to work for Bacardi as a national spokesperson after its acquisition of St-Germain. She would go onto work for numerous other highly regarded French and Scottish brands before feeling the desire to venture off and create something for herself.

Today, she is the CEO and co-founder of Siponey, a premium canned cocktail company that she started in the middle of a pandemic. She is also director of judging and partner of the L.A. Spirits Awards, a spirits judging competition that welcomes entries worldwide; and the founder of Aperitif Hour, a lifestyle and drinks-based education company.

With her three professional pillars, Victoria aims to support communities and causes she cares about through cocktails, wine, and spirits education, communication, and programming. Siponey Royale, a premium RTD (ready-to-drink) cocktail made from rye whiskey, local New York City wildflower honey, and real lemon juice, emphasizes ingredients with little to no processing or manipulation, advocating for a shift away from what she says are products built on synthetic, highly processed, and GMO (genetically modified organism) ingredients. Meanwhile, through the L.A. Spirits Awards, she is showcasing global talents. By spotlighting a roster of diverse industry experts to serve as judges, she is using the awards as a platform to fight radical inequalities for BIPOC and women in the spirits industry.

While Victoria’s professional pursuits are thriving, so, too, are her personal ones. In addition to being in a loving and supportive marriage to her husband, Joseph Mintz, Victoria is overjoyed to be a new mother to Mila and describes her daughter as “a strong baby girl who is of Puerto Rican and Jewish descent.” Her pride for her child’s biracial heritage only strengthens her unwavering commitments to better advocate for BIPOC initiatives in all spheres of her life.

In the following interview, Victoria shares the highs and lows of her 15-year career as a bartender, spirits educator, and small business owner. With her sights set on championing BIPOC women across three businesses, her continued leadership is helping to propel the industry into progressive and powerful territory.

1. With your robust work portfolio, please tell me how it led to your eventual desire to start your own companies within the wine/beer/spirits industry?

After years working on French spirits such as Lillet, St-Germain, Cointreau, I went on to work for Belvedere Vodka (owned by Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy), for my third national spokesperson role; and here, I held a senior role with a team of six or so ambassadors to support our national efforts.

After that, I entered the world of Scotch whisky working as the director of communications to The Scotch Malt Whisky Society to help expand their community stateside. Here I felt my passions for both wine and spirits colliding, along with the country I grew to love very much, Scotland.

However, it was at this point that I felt it was time for a departure, and to pursue something on my own. I launched my first company, Aperitif Hour, with notable and wonderful clients such as Fever-Tree. That positive experience acted as the inspired catalyst to co-founding Siponey, my second company.

Most recently, I became partner and director of judging for the L.A. Spirits Awards.

2. Today you run a trifecta of companies?

Currently, I am at the helm of three small businesses based between New York City and Los Angeles, and I enjoy diversifying my experiences within them. Each one is very different, thus they fill different voids of passion. Aperitif Hour, my first company, a sole proprietorship, was officially formed in 2018. My focus here is education and communication, asset development and tools.

Siponey was first conceptualized in July 2019, when I was six months pregnant with my partner in life and business, Joseph Mintz. Joseph comes from a background in horticultural studies and business operations, and together with my experience in premium spirits, we debuted our first product, Siponey Royale. It is a premium RTD cocktail made from rye whiskey, local New York City wildflower honey, and real lemon juice. The overarching focus of this company is an emphasis on product development and environmental advocacy, where we boast “honeybee sustainability in a can.”

Furthermore, our philosophy is founded upon the use of local ingredients, biodegradable and sustainable shipping/packing practices, as well as donating a portion of all profits to beekeeping communities and activists, such as the urban beekeepers at Detroit Hives. Lastly, we are also the first canned spirits company to be seeking B Corp status; our company ethos is in line with their certifications.

With the L.A. Spirit Awards (LASA), I’ve recently built a uniquely inclusive and diverse panel of best-in-class industry experts as our judges; they include Karla Alindahao (Forbes), Nima Ansari (Astor Wines & Spirits), Brooke Arthur (Westward Whiskey), Ashela R. MacDonald (William Grant & Sons), Samara Rivers (Black Bourbon Society), Joseph D. Solis (D’ussé Cognac), Mark Stoddard (Hendrick’s Gin), and Devon Tarby (Death & Co). Here, there is an emphasis on community building and being surrounded by talented individuals who keep me sharp!

3. Did you ever face any challenges and/or negative pushback in your role(s)?

In the past, I contended with toxic work environments that painfully lacked diversity and called me “bossy” when I spoke my mind. Additionally, I dealt with abusive work environments that allowed for everything from sexual assault to no work/life balance. In fact, I realized how important it was to me to work for myself after enduring all of this toxic corporate culture. I can recall there being a clique culture at a liquor supplier I was working for at the time that I was outcast from. I found myself trying to make three different stakeholder teams happy —a global maison team, U.S. national/regional teams, and an agency team — all of whom didn’t like each other. This put [me] in an impossible position and spread me across the country without a tether. Eventually, these teams for the most part dissolved — and I did manage to make more than a few lifetime friends and supporters along the way!

However, I attribute the dysfunction to the overall corporate culture, egos, complacency, people being in their roles far too long, and overall lack of real care for business priorities. I even created a cocktail recipe catalog which someone else deliberately took credit for. It was bogus. At a separate company, I had a counterpart director [who] harassed me (and others). The harassment began on day one when I was deemed “easy on the eyes.” It escalated to violent outbursts of anger and resentment for my job within the company, which was deemed the “fun” role. The fact that our president let this sort of ongoing abuse happen was truly disheartening.

4. Did this kind of toxicity seep into your pregnancy while you were juggling work at the same time?

Absolutely. After finally gaining the courage to announce that I was pregnant to a client, they tried to abruptly end our oral agreement that was scheduled to go on through the year. I was unexpectedly not needed anymore. Ironically, a big basis for having a baby at that time was based on the confidence I had at work!

My work had been so highly praised, internally and externally, until my pregnancy was made public; and then suddenly, I was caught trying to prove that I was still capable of working with a belly. … Ultimately, there was a hard lesson to be learned here, but it was an important one I’ll never forget: Always get a written contract.

However, my biggest lessons coming out of this have been to create boundaries and to not let this sort of stuff happen ever again within my own companies. Despite all these hardships, I’m actually grateful this all happened — it propelled the launch, and the eventual success of Siponey.

5. In surmounting personal and professional obstacles to your successes, when was the first time you felt that you had “made it?”

Watching myself on television with my parents over the holidays, years ago. Specifically, it was where I hosted the show Celebrity Tastemakers on channel PIX11 in the NYC metro area. I would interview industry experts over rare Scotch whisky — we would talk about the Scotch and their careers (you can find episodes in the media section of Aperitif Hour).

6. The pandemic has uprooted much of our cherished day-to-day living. What was the biggest challenge you or your business(es) faced since Covid-19?

For Siponey, I missed the in-person interactions, tastings, and fun educational component surrounding the drink. Additionally, it was devastating to lose our customer base in the wake of the mass closures of bars and restaurants. For the L.A. Spirits Awards, I miss the real-life interactions with my colleagues and friends. Related to this, I’m saddened that our inaugural competition can’t be done in person alongside my fellow peers.

7. How did you address these issues [related to Covid-19]?

With Siponey, we addressed it by pivoting to e-commerce and a direct-to-consumer model. We did consider this previously, but we never thought it could be possible, especially with the tricky-to-navigate, three-tier distribution model — but we are making it work!

L.A. Spirit Awards: We are executing a remote judging model for our inaugural year. We never thought this could be possible, but we are making it work as best as we can! We deem this strategy as our “Covid pivot,” which requires an immense amount of logistical thoughtfulness and legal due diligence to support. However, I have an incredible team: My partners, co-founders Nicolette and Joel, have a wealth of experience managing notable spirits competitions based in California that are known around the world.

Also, woven into the tapestry of the L.A. Spirits Awards is the cultural diversity. In fact, our founders and judges are majority female and diverse, compared to other competitions. This deeply matters to me: I am a very vocal proponent of BIPOC, LGBTQ, and women in the workplace. I have been a whistleblower to injustices around these groups for decades within the wine and spirits industry. So, to have the support of the L.A. Spirits Awards and its co-founders to build a community to eradicate these inequalities has been one of the most momentous moments of my career to date.

8. What’s next for you and your companies/brands?

I’m excited for Siponey, and hoping to see it being served in the sky [and/or] on the water (we’re currently in conversation with travel channels such as airlines and cruises). Also, we’ll be debuting at supermarkets this November 2020. In fact, we just signed with our new partners Florida Craft Distributors. We will specifically be entering local grocery chains there [in Florida] with Siponey Café, the second iteration of Siponey. Siponey Café is a rye whiskey, wildflower honey, cold brew coffee, and lemon juice cocktail with fresh ingredients canned at 6 percent ABV.

With the L.A. Spirits Awards, I have a continued focus on leading a community built on inclusivity, diversity, and SERIOUS TALENT! I also encourage entries at https://laspiritsawards.com/. We launched recently (in early August) and are still accepting submission entries until Sept. 23, 2020. The competition takes place this October. Spirits producers and brand representatives who are eager to get the products in front of the most talented palates in the industry via an inclusive and diverse organization should enter ASAP. For those who aren’t in the competition, you are welcome to follow all the excitement on our Instagram: @laspiritsawards.

9. What opportunities do you see for your business(es) to grow further?

The ethos I subscribe to for all of my personal and professional pursuits is to actively practice inclusivity and diversity. For Siponey, my specific objectives are to place more emphasis on direct-to-consumer models, seek out distribution deals that are in line with our company philosophy of sustainability and environmental awareness, continue our sustainable/environmental initiatives, and champion community building. With the L.A. Spirits Awards, my team and I are focused on digital community- building within the wine and spirits industry.

The article Amanda Victoria, CEO & Co-founder of Siponey, Is Done With ‘Toxic Work Environments That Lack Diversity’ appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/siponey-amanda-victoria/

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johnboothus · 4 years

Text

Amanda Victoria CEO & Co-founder of Siponey Is Done With Toxic Work Environments That Lack Diversity

1. With your robust work portfolio, please tell me how it led to your eventual desire to start your own companies within the wine/beer/spirits industry?

Most recently, I became partner and director of judging for the L.A. Spirits Awards.

2. Today you run a trifecta of companies?

3. Did you ever face any challenges and/or negative pushback in your role(s)?

4. Did this kind of toxicity seep into your pregnancy while you were juggling work at the same time?

5. In surmounting personal and professional obstacles to your successes, when was the first time you felt that you had “made it?”

6. The pandemic has uprooted much of our cherished day-to-day living. What was the biggest challenge you or your business(es) faced since Covid-19?

7. How did you address these issues [related to Covid-19]?

8. What’s next for you and your companies/brands?

9. What opportunities do you see for your business(es) to grow further?

The article Amanda Victoria, CEO & Co-founder of Siponey, Is Done With ‘Toxic Work Environments That Lack Diversity’ appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/siponey-amanda-victoria/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/amanda-victoria-ceo-co-founder-of-siponey-is-done-with-toxic-work-environments-that-lack-diversity

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kristinqueso · 5 years

Text

Stress Relief For The Tire Eyes

#blogger #stress relief #releasing stress #hpw to relieve stress

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amtushinfosolutionspage · 6 years

Text

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Connor McDavid makes his Cup final pick – Wait, is this an option? I really should have been doing this all year long.

The second star: Matt Niskanen’s big night – You know what, I believe him. There isn’t much else to do in Las Vegas.

The first star: Alexander Ovechkin’s face – I enjoy watching Ovechkin watch playoff games.

And that was just one of several reaction shots from this week. In fact, the only thing he apparently doesn’t react to is getting hit directly in the face with a puck:

Be It Resolved

The Golden Knights hosted the first two games of the Stanley Cup Final this week, and as you’d expect, they went all-out on the spectacle. Wednesday’s second game featured an opening ceremony that including a knight, some archers, laser drummers, and a concert by Imagine Dragons, and if you’re disappointed that you missed it then you’re in luck because I’m pretty sure it’s still going on.

We’ve covered the question of the Knights’ pregame festivities before, but let me reiterate my stance here: I’m fully on board. I’m all in. Let Montreal and Detroit and whoever else deliver solemn ceremonies that honor the game’s sacred traditions. We put a hockey team in freaking Las Vegas. Let them get weird.

But maybe, just maybe, they could remember to work in the actual game too.

This is a recurring issue with NHL games, where the start times have drifted off over the years to the point where you just expect everything to be 20 minutes late. It’s not a Vegas problem; they’re just making it worse. Or maybe better, since if you have to wait around you may as well be entertained. I’d rather watch a knight fight an airplane than listen to the broadcast team go over line matchups for the third time, and I’m betting you would too.

But I’d also rather watch some hockey, at least eventually. If that makes me the fun police, then OK. That’s kind of a weird stance for a hockey fan—”Oh, this guy actually wants to watch an NHL game, he must hate fun”—but fill your boots. I don’t doubt that this is all great if you’re one of the thousands of people in the building. But there are also millions of us at home who are patiently waiting for puck drop while this rock band works through their fourth iteration of Generic Arena Sports Anthem, so maybe get to it already.

To be clear, I’m not saying the Knights should rein in their pregame fun when the series returns to town next week. Hell, I want them to take it even further. It’s the Stanley Cup Final, so go all out. Have Wayne Newton do a set. Have David Copperfield fly around the arena. Have one of those weird puppet guys that nobody has ever heard of but have like nine giant billboards all along the strip do whatever it is they do. Find that 50-foot tall Michael Jackson robot that was supposed to be wandering the desert and let it loose. Send out Mantecore to eat Tom Wilson. You’re Vegas. There are no limits.

Just, you know, maybe figure out a reasonable start time for the game and then work backwards. Start the ceremony right now if you need to. This may end up being a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so enjoy all of it. Just don’t forget the hockey part.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

There’s a chance that this will be the last Grab Bag of the playoffs, and that by next Friday the Final will be over and we’ll have crowned a champion. If so, somebody will have scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal, joining a list of players that includes Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Bobby Orr and Mike Bossy (twice each), and Wayne Gretzky.

That list also includes a handful of obscure players, including this week’s pick: Wayne Merrick.

Merrick was a big center who tore up the OHL for the Ottawa 67s in the early 70s. That led to the Blues making him the ninth overall pick in the 1972 draft, which was kind of terrible apart from Bill Barber and Steve Shutt. Merrick wasn’t quite as good as those two guys, but at least he made the NHL, which is more than we can say about that year’s tenth overall pick, Al Blanchard.

Merrick debuted with the Blues that season, scored ten goals, and became a regular contributor until he was traded to the Golden Seals early in the 1975-76 season. He finished that season with a career-best 32 goals, although his numbers fell off after the Seals moved to Cleveland. So did pretty much everyone else’s, come to think of it.

Merrick lucked out in 1978 when he was traded to the Islanders in a deal for J.P. Parise (Zach’s father). That Islanders team was about to become a dynasty, winning four straight Cups from 1980 through 1983, and while Merrick was hardly a star, he played a key role while centering the “Banana Line” with Bob Nystrom and John Tonelli. He’d end up playing 95 playoff games with the team, scoring 18 goals. One of those was the Cup winner in 1981, as Merrick’s goal held up in a 5-1 win over the North Stars in the Game 5 clincher.

Merrick played for the Islanders until 1984, then retired. He finished his career with 191 goals in 774 games to go along with those four Cup rings.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: The NHL is 101 years old. But is it fun to learn about the league’s history?

In favor: Oh for sure. Over the course of its history, the NHL has provided us with all sorts of fascinating twists and turns, both on and off the ice. I can’t think of anything more interesting than learning all about the key moments that shaped the league we have today.

Opposed: All of that is undoubtedly true, my friend. But history can be so dull and boring. Nobody wants to comb through some dry textbook just to learn about something they enjoy.

In favor: Ah, but history doesn’t have to be dry. What if you could retrace a century of key events, but in a light-hearted and easy-to-enjoy format that placed the focus on the fun and the funny?

Opposed: That sounds great! But does such a thing exist?

In favor: Wouldn’t it be great if it did?

Opposed: Hey wait, is this feeling kind of … off? This isn’t the usual tone for this section. The whole thing seems kind of forced.

In favor: Imagine sitting down with a history of the NHL that was written for the average fan, one who wants to read all about the great moments and the bizarre ones, and everything in between.

Opposed: Like, nobody talks this way. We sound ridiculous right now.

In favor: I know I’d pay top dollar for just such a book!

Opposed: Wait, is this all just some stupid plug?

In favor: But who? Who could write such a book?

Opposed: This is pathetic.

In favor: Well, there’s good news!

Opposed: Let me guess…

In favor: The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL was announced this week, and is available now for pre-order in both Canada and the USA. Hockey fans will delight in this whimsical retelling of the league’s history, with an emphasis on the weird and wonderful. From The Rocket to Mr. Rogers, The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL tells the full story of the world’s most beautiful sport, as presented by the world’s most ridiculous league.

Opposed: Did you honestly just say “whimsical”? Literally no real person has ever used that word.

In favor: In this fun, irreverent, and fact-filled history, Sean McIndoe relates the flip side to the National Hockey League’s storied past.

Opposed: You literally just cut-and-pasted that off the book cover.

In favor: Look man, I spent a year writing this thing. I barely saw my family, I almost went blind squinting at old newspaper clippings, and they’ve sent me “one last round of edits” like six times in the last month. And after all of that, the whole thing still isn’t completely finished because the stupid Golden Knights came along and wrecked one of the last chapters. So help me out here.

Opposed: Sigh. Fine. You do what you have to do.

In favor: Thanks.

Opposed: But can we go back to complaining about instant replay review soon?

In favor: Next week after the Cup-winning goal gets waved off, I promise.

The final verdict: Well gosh, looks like we’ll all be getting our Christmas shopping done early this year!

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is the first day of June, and there was a time when that meant that the hockey season would have been long over with. Not any more, of course—the playoffs have stretched into June for years now. So today, let’s welcome the new month by going back to the first NHL game ever played in June.

It’s June 1, 1992 and we’re in Chicago for Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Final. The Penguins are up 3-0 in the series and looking for the sweep and for their second straight Cup win. As a side note, they’re also looking for the 11th straight win in a single postseason, which would tie the record previously held by [checks notes] the 1992 Blackhawks. Huh. Maybe 1992 wasn’t the best year for parity. I’m sure nobody enjoyed it.

Our clip begins with a vaguely weird aside about how the legendary Chicago Stadium will soon be torn down and replaced with a modern arena. The Stadium really was an amazing place to watch hockey, but the weird part is that it wasn’t actually replaced for two more years, so the somber tone here feels a little premature.

Speaking of the end of the Chicago Stadium, it was the Maple Leafs who shut it down, and they did it with a 1-0 win. Eat that, Hawks fans. I’m sure nothing has happened in the ensuring quarter-century that you can throw back in my face.

The scoring starts less than two minutes in when Jaromir Jagr rips a shot that makes Eddie Belfour do an adorable pirouette. Wow, one goal, I wonder if Mike Keenan will pull him, we all joke to ourselves. Yeah, hold that thought.

The Blackhawks tie it up a few minutes later, as Dirk Graham cuts across the zone and beats Tom Barrasso. I know that whenever we do these old 80s or early 90s games, we always beat the whole “goaltending was terrible back then” observation into the ground, but go back and rewatch this goal. Graham basically moves from the inside edge of one faceoff circle to the other—like maybe ten feet total—and Barrasso is reduced to having to do a sideways bunny hop to stay with him, then falls down as soon as he makes the first save. And remember, Barrasso was a borderline Hall-of-Famer. This is just how goalies moved back then. In hindsight, it’s amazing every game didn’t end up being 13-12.

On a related note, the previous game of this final was a 1-0 Penguins win. I’m not sure anything about early 90s hockey made any sense other than Mario Lemieux was good and if you fought Wendel Clark your face would explode. Other than that, you were on your own.

The Penguins come right back a few seconds later with a Kevin Stevens goal. “Ah, look out Loretta.” Did I mention that our play-by-play guy here is Mike Lange? You probably figured that part out on your own.

The Stevens goal spells the end for Belfour, which gives us the opportunity to remember that their backup was goofy European weirdo Dominik Hasek, who at this point is 28 and not very good. Two years later he’ll win the first of six Vezinas. Seriously, my “early 90s hockey made no sense” theory might be on to something.

Lange is telling us a story about Hasek being drafted in 1983 “when it wasn’t real fashionable to draft people,” at which point the Blackhawks score to make it 2-2. I know the goal interrupts Lange just as he was going to make a point about drafting Europeans, but I prefer to imagine he had completed his thought and that it was just unfashionable to draft anyone at all in 1983. (For one team, that was actually true.)

The Penguins regain the lead as Lemieux and Hasek perform a short play entitled “What the Nagano shootout should have looked like.” But Graham comes right back with his hat trick goal, and we’re tied again. At this point we have one of those fun old-hockey-highlights moments where you realize it’s still the first period and remember how much fun this sport is when everyone’s defensive strategy was “Screw defense, I’d rather score.”

Rick Tocchet somehow overcomes the ferocious backchecking of a young Jeremy Roenick to make it 4-3 early in the second. But Roenick makes amends with a fluky goal late in the period, and we head to the third tied again.

It’s always fun during a high-scoring highlights package when the guy putting the clips together is like “Oh yeah, I should probably work in one save.” In this case it’s Lemieux getting a breakaway, only to be robbed by a sprawling Hasek. Maybe scratch that thought about if Mario had been in Nagano. Not because of this save, just because I realized Marc Crawford probably would have had Eric Desjardins shoot instead.

Larry Murphy gives the Pens their fifth lead of the game, and this time they manage to pad it when Ron Francis “beats goaltender Hasek like a rented mule.” The good: Mike Lange. The bad: Every play-by-play guy from the next 25 years who convinced himself his catchphrases were as funny as Mike Lange’s.

Roenick makes it 6-5 off a feed from Stu Grimson with nine minutes left. Why yes, The Grim Reaper was still getting a regular shift with nine minutes left and his team trailing in a Cup Final elimination game. And it paid off. The early 90s. Sense made? None.

But that’s all the Hawks would get, as we cut ahead to the dying seconds. Lange does that wonderful play-by-play thing where he starts in with his “we win” call but then realizes he’s a few second early and has to backtrack. But he makes up for it with his all-time classic “Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley, bring me the brandy” call.

Wait, is it me or did he actually say “get me the brandy”? I’m pretty sure he did. This is like finding out that Sherlock Holmes never said “Elementary, my dear Watson” in any of the books. I swear, if it turns out Lange never asked us to sneak up and mutilate him with a hacksaw I’m going to question everything from my childhood.

And that’s it for our clip. The Penguins win the Cup, and the season ends just hours into June. And in case you were wondering why the season stretched on so long in 1992, it’s because there was a ten-day player strike just before the playoffs. A work stoppage, hockey being played in June, and a Blackhawks/Penguins matchup? Man, no wonder Gary Bettman couldn’t wait to get on board a few months later.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you’d like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected].

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

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flauntpage · 6 years

Text

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Connor McDavid makes his Cup final pick – Wait, is this an option? I really should have been doing this all year long.

The second star: Matt Niskanen's big night – You know what, I believe him. There isn't much else to do in Las Vegas.

The first star: Alexander Ovechkin's face – I enjoy watching Ovechkin watch playoff games.

And that was just one of several reaction shots from this week. In fact, the only thing he apparently doesn't react to is getting hit directly in the face with a puck:

Be It Resolved

The Golden Knights hosted the first two games of the Stanley Cup Final this week, and as you'd expect, they went all-out on the spectacle. Wednesday's second game featured an opening ceremony that including a knight, some archers, laser drummers, and a concert by Imagine Dragons, and if you're disappointed that you missed it then you're in luck because I'm pretty sure it's still going on.

We've covered the question of the Knights' pregame festivities before, but let me reiterate my stance here: I'm fully on board. I'm all in. Let Montreal and Detroit and whoever else deliver solemn ceremonies that honor the game's sacred traditions. We put a hockey team in freaking Las Vegas. Let them get weird.

But maybe, just maybe, they could remember to work in the actual game too.

This is a recurring issue with NHL games, where the start times have drifted off over the years to the point where you just expect everything to be 20 minutes late. It's not a Vegas problem; they're just making it worse. Or maybe better, since if you have to wait around you may as well be entertained. I'd rather watch a knight fight an airplane than listen to the broadcast team go over line matchups for the third time, and I'm betting you would too.

But I'd also rather watch some hockey, at least eventually. If that makes me the fun police, then OK. That's kind of a weird stance for a hockey fan—"Oh, this guy actually wants to watch an NHL game, he must hate fun"—but fill your boots. I don't doubt that this is all great if you're one of the thousands of people in the building. But there are also millions of us at home who are patiently waiting for puck drop while this rock band works through their fourth iteration of Generic Arena Sports Anthem, so maybe get to it already.

To be clear, I'm not saying the Knights should rein in their pregame fun when the series returns to town next week. Hell, I want them to take it even further. It's the Stanley Cup Final, so go all out. Have Wayne Newton do a set. Have David Copperfield fly around the arena. Have one of those weird puppet guys that nobody has ever heard of but have like nine giant billboards all along the strip do whatever it is they do. Find that 50-foot tall Michael Jackson robot that was supposed to be wandering the desert and let it loose. Send out Mantecore to eat Tom Wilson. You're Vegas. There are no limits.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

There's a chance that this will be the last Grab Bag of the playoffs, and that by next Friday the Final will be over and we'll have crowned a champion. If so, somebody will have scored the Stanley Cup-winning goal, joining a list of players that includes Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard, Bobby Orr and Mike Bossy (twice each), and Wayne Gretzky.

That list also includes a handful of obscure players, including this week's pick: Wayne Merrick.

Merrick was a big center who tore up the OHL for the Ottawa 67s in the early 70s. That led to the Blues making him the ninth overall pick in the 1972 draft, which was kind of terrible apart from Bill Barber and Steve Shutt. Merrick wasn't quite as good as those two guys, but at least he made the NHL, which is more than we can say about that year's tenth overall pick, Al Blanchard.

Merrick lucked out in 1978 when he was traded to the Islanders in a deal for J.P. Parise (Zach's father). That Islanders team was about to become a dynasty, winning four straight Cups from 1980 through 1983, and while Merrick was hardly a star, he played a key role while centering the "Banana Line" with Bob Nystrom and John Tonelli. He'd end up playing 95 playoff games with the team, scoring 18 goals. One of those was the Cup winner in 1981, as Merrick's goal held up in a 5-1 win over the North Stars in the Game 5 clincher.

Merrick played for the Islanders until 1984, then retired. He finished his career with 191 goals in 774 games to go along with those four Cup rings.

Debating the Issues

This week’s debate: The NHL is 101 years old. But is it fun to learn about the league's history?

In favor: Oh for sure. Over the course of its history, the NHL has provided us with all sorts of fascinating twists and turns, both on and off the ice. I can't think of anything more interesting than learning all about the key moments that shaped the league we have today.

Opposed: All of that is undoubtedly true, my friend. But history can be so dull and boring. Nobody wants to comb through some dry textbook just to learn about something they enjoy.

In favor: Ah, but history doesn't have to be dry. What if you could retrace a century of key events, but in a light-hearted and easy-to-enjoy format that placed the focus on the fun and the funny?

Opposed: That sounds great! But does such a thing exist?

In favor: Wouldn't it be great if it did?

Opposed: Hey wait, is this feeling kind of … off? This isn't the usual tone for this section. The whole thing seems kind of forced.

In favor: Imagine sitting down with a history of the NHL that was written for the average fan, one who wants to read all about the great moments and the bizarre ones, and everything in between.

Opposed: Like, nobody talks this way. We sound ridiculous right now.

In favor: I know I'd pay top dollar for just such a book!

Opposed: Wait, is this all just some stupid plug?

In favor: But who? Who could write such a book?

Opposed: This is pathetic.

In favor: Well, there's good news!

Opposed: Let me guess…

In favor: The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL was announced this week, and is available now for pre-order in both Canada and the USA. Hockey fans will delight in this whimsical retelling of the league's history, with an emphasis on the weird and wonderful. From The Rocket to Mr. Rogers, The Down Goes Brown History of the NHL tells the full story of the world's most beautiful sport, as presented by the world's most ridiculous league.

Opposed: Did you honestly just say "whimsical"? Literally no real person has ever used that word.

In favor: In this fun, irreverent, and fact-filled history, Sean McIndoe relates the flip side to the National Hockey League's storied past.

Opposed: You literally just cut-and-pasted that off the book cover.

In favor: Look man, I spent a year writing this thing. I barely saw my family, I almost went blind squinting at old newspaper clippings, and they've sent me "one last round of edits" like six times in the last month. And after all of that, the whole thing still isn't completely finished because the stupid Golden Knights came along and wrecked one of the last chapters. So help me out here.

Opposed: Sigh. Fine. You do what you have to do.

In favor: Thanks.

Opposed: But can we go back to complaining about instant replay review soon?

In favor: Next week after the Cup-winning goal gets waved off, I promise.

The final verdict: Well gosh, looks like we'll all be getting our Christmas shopping done early this year!

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Today is the first day of June, and there was a time when that meant that the hockey season would have been long over with. Not any more, of course—the playoffs have stretched into June for years now. So today, let's welcome the new month by going back to the first NHL game ever played in June.

It's June 1, 1992 and we're in Chicago for Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Final. The Penguins are up 3-0 in the series and looking for the sweep and for their second straight Cup win. As a side note, they're also looking for the 11th straight win in a single postseason, which would tie the record previously held by [checks notes] the 1992 Blackhawks. Huh. Maybe 1992 wasn't the best year for parity. I'm sure nobody enjoyed it.

Our clip begins with a vaguely weird aside about how the legendary Chicago Stadium will soon be torn down and replaced with a modern arena. The Stadium really was an amazing place to watch hockey, but the weird part is that it wasn't actually replaced for two more years, so the somber tone here feels a little premature.

Speaking of the end of the Chicago Stadium, it was the Maple Leafs who shut it down, and they did it with a 1-0 win. Eat that, Hawks fans. I'm sure nothing has happened in the ensuring quarter-century that you can throw back in my face.

The Blackhawks tie it up a few minutes later, as Dirk Graham cuts across the zone and beats Tom Barrasso. I know that whenever we do these old 80s or early 90s games, we always beat the whole "goaltending was terrible back then" observation into the ground, but go back and rewatch this goal. Graham basically moves from the inside edge of one faceoff circle to the other—like maybe ten feet total—and Barrasso is reduced to having to do a sideways bunny hop to stay with him, then falls down as soon as he makes the first save. And remember, Barrasso was a borderline Hall-of-Famer. This is just how goalies moved back then. In hindsight, it's amazing every game didn't end up being 13-12.

On a related note, the previous game of this final was a 1-0 Penguins win. I'm not sure anything about early 90s hockey made any sense other than Mario Lemieux was good and if you fought Wendel Clark your face would explode. Other than that, you were on your own.

The Penguins come right back a few seconds later with a Kevin Stevens goal. "Ah, look out Loretta." Did I mention that our play-by-play guy here is Mike Lange? You probably figured that part out on your own.

The Stevens goal spells the end for Belfour, which gives us the opportunity to remember that their backup was goofy European weirdo Dominik Hasek, who at this point is 28 and not very good. Two years later he'll win the first of six Vezinas. Seriously, my "early 90s hockey made no sense" theory might be on to something.

Lange is telling us a story about Hasek being drafted in 1983 "when it wasn't real fashionable to draft people," at which point the Blackhawks score to make it 2-2. I know the goal interrupts Lange just as he was going to make a point about drafting Europeans, but I prefer to imagine he had completed his thought and that it was just unfashionable to draft anyone at all in 1983. (For one team, that was actually true.)

The Penguins regain the lead as Lemieux and Hasek perform a short play entitled "What the Nagano shootout should have looked like." But Graham comes right back with his hat trick goal, and we're tied again. At this point we have one of those fun old-hockey-highlights moments where you realize it's still the first period and remember how much fun this sport is when everyone's defensive strategy was "Screw defense, I'd rather score."

It's always fun during a high-scoring highlights package when the guy putting the clips together is like "Oh yeah, I should probably work in one save." In this case it's Lemieux getting a breakaway, only to be robbed by a sprawling Hasek. Maybe scratch that thought about if Mario had been in Nagano. Not because of this save, just because I realized Marc Crawford probably would have had Eric Desjardins shoot instead.

Larry Murphy gives the Pens their fifth lead of the game, and this time they manage to pad it when Ron Francis "beats goaltender Hasek like a rented mule." The good: Mike Lange. The bad: Every play-by-play guy from the next 25 years who convinced himself his catchphrases were as funny as Mike Lange's.

But that's all the Hawks would get, as we cut ahead to the dying seconds. Lange does that wonderful play-by-play thing where he starts in with his "we win" call but then realizes he's a few second early and has to backtrack. But he makes up for it with his all-time classic "Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley, bring me the brandy" call.

Wait, is it me or did he actually say "get me the brandy"? I'm pretty sure he did. This is like finding out that Sherlock Holmes never said "Elementary, my dear Watson" in any of the books. I swear, if it turns out Lange never asked us to sneak up and mutilate him with a hacksaw I'm going to question everything from my childhood.

And that's it for our clip. The Penguins win the Cup, and the season ends just hours into June. And in case you were wondering why the season stretched on so long in 1992, it's because there was a ten-day player strike just before the playoffs. A work stoppage, hockey being played in June, and a Blackhawks/Penguins matchup? Man, no wonder Gary Bettman couldn't wait to get on board a few months later.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at [email protected].

DGB Grab Bag: Ovi Face, June Hockey History, and Stop Lying about Start Times published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

0 notes