Out of Control

I was driving to school this morning when "Little Girls" by Oingo Boingo came on. Anyone who knows anything about my musical loves should know that "Little Girls" is probably one of my most favourite songs ever, by one of my most favourite bands ever. I was ecstatic.

I got to my parking spot, pulled out my headphones (for the first time in, well, a very long time), and walked to class listening to Oingo Boingo. I was in heaven. I hadn't listened to Oingo Boingo in I don't even know how long. Boy, do I love me some Oingo Boingo!

But that's not the point of this post. See, Oingo Boingo has this song called "Out of Control." This is better than "Little Girls," though not as hilariously creepy. This song, as most don't know, is where the title of Without Direction came from.

It's a not-so-well-known tradition of mine to use lyrics from songs as titles for things like plays. There's a line that says, "You're out of control, and you move without direction, and people look right through your soul." The song's always touched me, but I really felt, after writing Without Direction, that it was the right song to get the title from.

Oingo Boingo's songs tend to be pretty funny, but underneath the wit and charm, there's this small hint of profound messages in a lot of their music. I felt like Without Direction took a similar approach: it was pretty much entirely a comedy, every dramatic moment was so overdramatised that it became parody rather than a serious representation of life. But underneath all the comedy, the characters, to me, all fought horrifying internal battles.

And so "Out of Control" became this sort of unspoken theme of Without Direction to me. There's a "theme song" for Where the Wild Berries Grow too, and a whole story behind it, but I'll save that for after the show is first performed and then closed.

To me, the "theme songs" are just this really personal thing between me and the play, between me and the characters. It's not the driving force behind it or anything, but more of a something that months, maybe years, later will bring me right back to the play and the characters. Like an "our song" almost.

Yeah, I think my characters are real. So what? :P

P.S. Two good writer friends of mine just started blogging too, apparently influenced in part by me! Way super cool. Check them out: Aimee and Jeremiah.

England, Zubetube, and Other Spontaneity

And then, after I was so excited about Dance Hour, I didn't have time. Two days in a row. It's been a hectic two days in a row. Full of lots of not very much.

I jest, of course. I woke up Saturday with this strange urge to be important. I threw on the flashiest clothes I had (literally the flashiest; my shirt was covered in sequins. Yeeeaaah.), put on some make-up (hard to believe, I know), and topped it off with new shoes. Nose in the air, I walked to a yard sale near my house, looked at the items with disdain, and walked away, muttering about "Community Outreach." I'm sure everyone there was QUITE impressed with my apparent fame, fortune, and sheer importance. And British accent too, of course.

That, of course, was not enough. I grabbed my phone, called a few friends (they never answer their phones, bastards!), and eventually reached my friend Frank. "Okay, so I know this sounds weird, but I want to walk around and pretend to be famous." I was met with the expected amusement, but he agreed to fake importance with me, and we ended up wandering the outdoor mall/Old Town in our (not so) little Los Angeles suburb, British accents and everything.

Funniest. Day. Ever. We had full-on characters. I was quite the famous figure in England apparently, and Frank was apparently a rather uninformed underwear model. My publicist sent me to America and instructed me to act like a common person, the nerve! "The English have the right of way in America!" I exclaimed once, crossing the street and yelling about the terrible driving in this country.

And then we wandered into the music store. (Yeah, that one that's underground! It's awesome.) Frank the underwear model, apparently, knew nothing of music, and Elizabeth the super rich and famous knew everything and had done everything.

And then we found, wait for it . . . the ZUBETUBE!!! Coolest instrument EVER. "The ultimate cosmic sound machine." No kidding. After debating about totally how awesome it would be for our "space album" (more to come on that later!), we asked the price (under $15!), decided to split the cost, and bought the coolest instrument ever. I think I'll just have to do an entire post on the ZubeTube soon. It's amazing.

After that, I didn't get home until the AM, just running around, acting silly (boy do I have stories too!), and then I spent today doing all sorts of mundane things like copying CD after CD first onto the computer and then onto my phone. Check out the band Simply Red. Old 80s band; I just found their CD and decided I love them.

Even without Dance Hour, I managed to dance around a whole lot this weekend, from tap dancing to street musicians, to ridiculous dance offs, to jumping around the kitchen with my little brother.