I choreograph high school musicals. I have had the honor to do Fiddler on the Roof three times.
Fiddler has this amazing arc, where the first act is nearly all comic, and then the soldiers break up the wedding at the end, and the second act is progressively darker and darker. It’s a giant ocean liner of a musical, and somehow the cast has to get the audience to change course, stop laughing and start feeling their hearts break. Somehow, the kids in the cast need to get the kids in the audience, many of whom aren’t used to shows that change in mood, to sober up.
The song where the ocean liner really, finally, has to make the turn is Anatevka. When we’re close to opening night, I give a little talk:
At the beginning, in Tradition, Tevye talked about Anatevka, where everybody knows who he is and what God expects him to do. It’s like being in a play, really, where you know who you are, and what the director, and the choreographer, and all of the cast members, expect you to do.
This is about how you feel when that ends. It’s not about some people in Russia at the turn of the twentieth century who had to move away from their homes. It’s about you. You have been in rehearsal for six weeks. You know who you are, and what you are expected to do. You know that the entire show falls apart if one of you misses a rehearsal, or a cue. You know you are important. You know you are valuable, and valued. You know who your friends are, and you see them every day. But in SIX DAYS, it will be closing night, and we will NEVER, EVER be together as a group again. Never. Our community will scatter. We will be lonely. We will miss rehearsing, we will not know what to do with ourselves, and homework and laundry will not fill that hole in our hearts. Our community will be DESTROYED, forever.
About this time, the most sleep-deprived girls usually begin to weep. And by opening night, everybody gets pretty misty singing Anatevka. And the audience comes along.
My former company was sold today. Those friends of mine who hadn’t already been laid off will all be unemployed in 60 days, some a little later than that. I have been back only twice, to pick up a couple of packages. Granted, I am grateful not to have worked there this last agonizing year, not to have had to shut it down myself. But there was, until today, a place where a fair number of people I care about congregated. There will no longer be such a place. I will continue to be in touch with the individuals I am fondest of, but the community will no longer exist.
This diaspora happened at the end of college. It happens all the time. I'm a person who puts down deep roots. The breakup of a community makes me grieve.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The seven warning signs: #7 - Pronunciation issues
I was driving home with a local radio station playing, when the announcer said that the cakewalk we had just heard was by Scott Joplin. Only she said "cake wall-k," pronouncing the L. And then she said that her program manager had corrected her, and told her the L was supposed to be silent, but she knew that was silly, because the L was visible right there in front of her.
I came into the house, fired up the computer and the radio, and sent her an email saying sorry, the PM was right, the L was silent, just like it was in "talk" and "chalk."
She wrote back! This was exciting - human contact! Plus, I could hear her announce a selection, and then I'd get a little note from her. It was somehow like passing notes in class.
She said she was stunned to learn that I was right! Her PM had sent her a link to an online pronunciation site, and "walk" sounded exactly like "wok." She was amazed. I sent her a link to my favorite pronunciation site of all time, and she got sucked into it. We had a great little correspondence.
I came into the house, fired up the computer and the radio, and sent her an email saying sorry, the PM was right, the L was silent, just like it was in "talk" and "chalk."
She wrote back! This was exciting - human contact! Plus, I could hear her announce a selection, and then I'd get a little note from her. It was somehow like passing notes in class.
She said she was stunned to learn that I was right! Her PM had sent her a link to an online pronunciation site, and "walk" sounded exactly like "wok." She was amazed. I sent her a link to my favorite pronunciation site of all time, and she got sucked into it. We had a great little correspondence.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Today's brow-furrower
(From a sidebar ad along with my Earthlink bill):
[This application] lets you send email to loved ones who don't use the Internet. Your email messages (plus attachments, such as photos) are automatically printed out as attractive, easy-to-read letters....
[This application] lets you send email to loved ones who don't use the Internet. Your email messages (plus attachments, such as photos) are automatically printed out as attractive, easy-to-read letters....
Saturday, August 15, 2009
But Mommmm...
One of those wondrous keyword-inspired sidebar ads on gmail:
Get your next job using your resume, not your cleavage!
Get your next job using your resume, not your cleavage!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Revlon Ionic Hairdryer Study
Revlon Ionic Hairdryer Study
Principal author: CSW
Subject: CSW
Photographer: CSW
Date: June 18, 2009
Reprinted with permission from The Journal of Unemployment Research, vol 1., no. 1, Summer, 2009, pp3-7
Preamble: Principal author bought a new hairdryer, basing her selection upon color, shape, and size, but feared manufacturer would think she fell for unlikely hype that hairdryer offered an “ionic” as well as a “regular” drying feature. Principal author asked four science friends if they too found said claim about “ionic” drying suspect. Two failed to respond, while a third did extensive Google research and hypothesized that manufacturer claims might be overblown. The fourth science friend begged principal author to follow through on joke offer to dry half her hair on the “ionic” setting and half on “regular.” Principal author agreed to serve the interests of science.
Hypothesis: Hair on side of head dried with “ionic” setting would not be perceptibly different than hair on side of head dried with “regular” setting.
Materials:
Revlon Ionic Hairdryer 1850 (pink accents, featuring attractive small button on handle with a snowflake painted on it)
Nisim shampoo
Natural Instincts Color Treat 3 conditioner
Towel (green)
Plastic brush (blue, with plastic bristles (white) with little knobs on the ends (blue))
Camera (Olympus)
Procedure:
Subject shampooed hair with Nisim shampoo and rinsed: conditioned hair with Natural Instincts Color Treat 3, and rinsed. Subject towel-dried self and hair, then got dressed in order to appear in documentary photos. Subject combed all hair straight back and tried to pat it into place, more or less. Subject began to wonder if she really wanted to take a “before” picture (see Figure A).
Note: Since pictures were taken in mirror, the hair sticking up is on the left side of subject’s head, as well as left side of Figure A.
While over-drying could have skewed the results for the first (left) side dried, the notion of holding a plastic bag over that side was not necessarily smart. Plastic bag may also have skewed results and flattened hair on left side. That said, the left side always did look flat, even when the right side was still wet.
Drying subject’s very thin hair on High and on Hot is lunacy.
Subject did not time how long she spent drying each side.
Subject’s hair really doesn’t want to part smack dab down the middle, but rather a bit to the left, so the “after” pictures are suspect.
Essential flaw: Subject was unable to tell when the little “ionic” button on the handle, with a snowflake painted on it, was “on” and when it was “off.” When she pushed it, a noise was made, but the button did not actually remain depressed. When she pushed it a second time, the same thing happened. Subject searched for something that lit up when button was pushed, but found nothing. Subject wondered if the “ionic” button must be held down the whole time. Of course, subject was skeptical about the little ionic button doing anything in the first place, so there was some possibility of experimental bias.
Even more essential flaw: While searching to see if anything lit up when ionic snowflake button was pushed, subject found another button, rather prominently displayed, and visible in Figure D below subject’s nose. This button is on top of the hair dryer, not on the handle. It is pink and sports no snowflake. It is marked “Ionic Dry.” This button was left in the “on” position throughout the above experiment. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the stupid snowflake button on the handle makes the air cold, if held down and not released.
Conclusions: Due to multiple experimental flaws, nothing can be concluded from the experiment. If further funding is secured, perhaps half the head can be dried with the Ionic Dry button set to On, and half dried with it set to Off. This experiment serves as a valuable control study demonstrating how astonishingly different the two sides of the head can appear under absolutely identical ionic drying conditions.
Principal author: CSW
Subject: CSW
Photographer: CSW
Date: June 18, 2009
Reprinted with permission from The Journal of Unemployment Research, vol 1., no. 1, Summer, 2009, pp3-7
Preamble: Principal author bought a new hairdryer, basing her selection upon color, shape, and size, but feared manufacturer would think she fell for unlikely hype that hairdryer offered an “ionic” as well as a “regular” drying feature. Principal author asked four science friends if they too found said claim about “ionic” drying suspect. Two failed to respond, while a third did extensive Google research and hypothesized that manufacturer claims might be overblown. The fourth science friend begged principal author to follow through on joke offer to dry half her hair on the “ionic” setting and half on “regular.” Principal author agreed to serve the interests of science.
Hypothesis: Hair on side of head dried with “ionic” setting would not be perceptibly different than hair on side of head dried with “regular” setting.
Materials:
Revlon Ionic Hairdryer 1850 (pink accents, featuring attractive small button on handle with a snowflake painted on it)
Nisim shampoo
Natural Instincts Color Treat 3 conditioner
Towel (green)
Plastic brush (blue, with plastic bristles (white) with little knobs on the ends (blue))
Camera (Olympus)
Procedure:
Subject shampooed hair with Nisim shampoo and rinsed: conditioned hair with Natural Instincts Color Treat 3, and rinsed. Subject towel-dried self and hair, then got dressed in order to appear in documentary photos. Subject combed all hair straight back and tried to pat it into place, more or less. Subject began to wonder if she really wanted to take a “before” picture (see Figure A).
Note: Since pictures were taken in mirror, the hair sticking up is on the left side of subject’s head, as well as left side of Figure A.
Figure A.
Subject parted hair smack dab down the middle, then placed a plastic bag over the right half of her head (see Figure B).
Subject parted hair smack dab down the middle, then placed a plastic bag over the right half of her head (see Figure B).
Figure B
Holding the hair dryer in her left hand, subject blow-dried* the left side of her hair, on High and on Hot. No attempt was made to style hair. (subject did not have enough hands to take a picture of this procedure, but took a picture by smooshing stuff between jaw and shoulder, in order to show attractive hairdryer (see Figure C).
*”Blow-dried” must be correct, because “blew-dry” can’t be.
Holding the hair dryer in her left hand, subject blow-dried* the left side of her hair, on High and on Hot. No attempt was made to style hair. (subject did not have enough hands to take a picture of this procedure, but took a picture by smooshing stuff between jaw and shoulder, in order to show attractive hairdryer (see Figure C).
*”Blow-dried” must be correct, because “blew-dry” can’t be.
Figure C.
Halfway through process: left side of hair is dry, right side still wet (Figure D).
Halfway through process: left side of hair is dry, right side still wet (Figure D).
Figure D.
Subject moved the plastic bag over to the left side, in an attempt not to skew the results by “over-drying” that side.
Crucial moment: Subject punched the little snowflake button on the hair dryer handle once.
Then, holding the hair dryer in her right hand, subject dried the right side of her head, on High and on Hot. No attempt was made to style hair.
Figure E demonstrates the result.
Subject moved the plastic bag over to the left side, in an attempt not to skew the results by “over-drying” that side.
Crucial moment: Subject punched the little snowflake button on the hair dryer handle once.
Then, holding the hair dryer in her right hand, subject dried the right side of her head, on High and on Hot. No attempt was made to style hair.
Figure E demonstrates the result.
Figure E
Discussion: Experimental flaws - material, procedural, and essential:
Subject does not own a tripod or have enough hands to take pictures of procedure.
Discussion: Experimental flaws - material, procedural, and essential:
Subject does not own a tripod or have enough hands to take pictures of procedure.
Subject is right handed and may have done a strange job of aiming hair dryer at her left side.
While over-drying could have skewed the results for the first (left) side dried, the notion of holding a plastic bag over that side was not necessarily smart. Plastic bag may also have skewed results and flattened hair on left side. That said, the left side always did look flat, even when the right side was still wet.
Drying subject’s very thin hair on High and on Hot is lunacy.
Subject did not time how long she spent drying each side.
Subject’s hair really doesn’t want to part smack dab down the middle, but rather a bit to the left, so the “after” pictures are suspect.
Essential flaw: Subject was unable to tell when the little “ionic” button on the handle, with a snowflake painted on it, was “on” and when it was “off.” When she pushed it, a noise was made, but the button did not actually remain depressed. When she pushed it a second time, the same thing happened. Subject searched for something that lit up when button was pushed, but found nothing. Subject wondered if the “ionic” button must be held down the whole time. Of course, subject was skeptical about the little ionic button doing anything in the first place, so there was some possibility of experimental bias.
Even more essential flaw: While searching to see if anything lit up when ionic snowflake button was pushed, subject found another button, rather prominently displayed, and visible in Figure D below subject’s nose. This button is on top of the hair dryer, not on the handle. It is pink and sports no snowflake. It is marked “Ionic Dry.” This button was left in the “on” position throughout the above experiment. Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the stupid snowflake button on the handle makes the air cold, if held down and not released.
Conclusions: Due to multiple experimental flaws, nothing can be concluded from the experiment. If further funding is secured, perhaps half the head can be dried with the Ionic Dry button set to On, and half dried with it set to Off. This experiment serves as a valuable control study demonstrating how astonishingly different the two sides of the head can appear under absolutely identical ionic drying conditions.
The Ladders 'n me: The passive-aggressive voice
My friend Jill said I should try The Ladders as a job hunting site, so I sent in my $29.95 and signed up. Right off the bat, I got an offer of a free resume critique. I uploaded my resume and awaited the news.
The news arrived the next morning. It seemed about seven pages long, and was prefaced by a raft of baloney along the lines of, "Here at The Ladders, we take only the cream of the unemployed crop, and you were lucky enough to be allowed to send us your $29.95. You are a formerly hard-charging biz person, so I don't need to sugar-coat anything for you. If something isn't working optimally, you want to know about it!"
The rest of the missive basically said, "Your resume stinks."
There were, of course, subheads. Your resume stinks because you formatted it wrong. Your resume stinks because you used old language. Your resume stinks because it doesn't grab the reader.
Within each of these subheads, they had pulled out little bits and phrases that best exemplified the powerful stinkiness of my particular resume. After a few pages, I began to suspect the seven pages were a template with blanks to be filled in. Perhaps everybody got seven pages, lightly customized. Perhaps the folks at the Ladders slogged through every resume fishing for tidbits to toss under each subhead, and voila - a seven page resume critique!
Let me just say that I didn't much like my resume, either. Really, I didn't. I thought it sounded weird and false and full of meaningless biz-speak. Still, the critique was deflating.
Near the middle, though, I began to move from deflated to nettled. It was in the subhead called "The passive voice." This little section said, in a condescending tone, something like this: "You probably haven't thought about the passive voice since high school, but here at The Ladders, we make it our business to think about absolutely everything that makes a resume zingy, and the passive voice is not it. You used the passive voice. You mustn't do that. It's a dreadful thing to do. Busy HR people don't have time for this sort of thing. Your resume will get deleted in seconds and you will stay unemployed for a long, long time. You need professional help! You used the passive voice in the phrase, "consulted with."
Well, no.
In the seven pages, there were no suggestions for improvement. Suggestions are not free. Instead, there was an offer at the end for me to get my resume professionally rewritten, for just under seven hundred dollars. And there was a signature, from somebody with an arch-preppy name like (but not really) Whitney Smythe-Pendleton III.
(Interestingly, Whitney wanted me to know that he-or-she would not rewrite my resume. Some professional rewriter would do that. I suspect I am not the first person to take a deep dislike to my critiquer.)
I knew, truly I did, that this message was not meant to begin a correspondence. But they had hit an English major nerve, and I was cranky. I wrote back.
Dear Whitney, said I, strangely enough, I have thought about the passive voice since high school, and "consulted with" is not it. "Consulted with" is a prepositional phrase, pure and simple. Sincerely yours.
The next morning, my phone rang. "It's Whitney," said the voice on the other end.
"Whitney!," I said. "You are a person! I thought you were a program! Huh. What can I do for you?"
Whitney offered me a price break. For me, this week only, a special: just under six hundred bucks.
I said no. Then I went out and paid somebody else to help me rewrite my resume. I liked her. I never found a job on the Ladders that suited me, either.
The news arrived the next morning. It seemed about seven pages long, and was prefaced by a raft of baloney along the lines of, "Here at The Ladders, we take only the cream of the unemployed crop, and you were lucky enough to be allowed to send us your $29.95. You are a formerly hard-charging biz person, so I don't need to sugar-coat anything for you. If something isn't working optimally, you want to know about it!"
The rest of the missive basically said, "Your resume stinks."
There were, of course, subheads. Your resume stinks because you formatted it wrong. Your resume stinks because you used old language. Your resume stinks because it doesn't grab the reader.
Within each of these subheads, they had pulled out little bits and phrases that best exemplified the powerful stinkiness of my particular resume. After a few pages, I began to suspect the seven pages were a template with blanks to be filled in. Perhaps everybody got seven pages, lightly customized. Perhaps the folks at the Ladders slogged through every resume fishing for tidbits to toss under each subhead, and voila - a seven page resume critique!
Let me just say that I didn't much like my resume, either. Really, I didn't. I thought it sounded weird and false and full of meaningless biz-speak. Still, the critique was deflating.
Near the middle, though, I began to move from deflated to nettled. It was in the subhead called "The passive voice." This little section said, in a condescending tone, something like this: "You probably haven't thought about the passive voice since high school, but here at The Ladders, we make it our business to think about absolutely everything that makes a resume zingy, and the passive voice is not it. You used the passive voice. You mustn't do that. It's a dreadful thing to do. Busy HR people don't have time for this sort of thing. Your resume will get deleted in seconds and you will stay unemployed for a long, long time. You need professional help! You used the passive voice in the phrase, "consulted with."
Well, no.
In the seven pages, there were no suggestions for improvement. Suggestions are not free. Instead, there was an offer at the end for me to get my resume professionally rewritten, for just under seven hundred dollars. And there was a signature, from somebody with an arch-preppy name like (but not really) Whitney Smythe-Pendleton III.
(Interestingly, Whitney wanted me to know that he-or-she would not rewrite my resume. Some professional rewriter would do that. I suspect I am not the first person to take a deep dislike to my critiquer.)
I knew, truly I did, that this message was not meant to begin a correspondence. But they had hit an English major nerve, and I was cranky. I wrote back.
Dear Whitney, said I, strangely enough, I have thought about the passive voice since high school, and "consulted with" is not it. "Consulted with" is a prepositional phrase, pure and simple. Sincerely yours.
The next morning, my phone rang. "It's Whitney," said the voice on the other end.
"Whitney!," I said. "You are a person! I thought you were a program! Huh. What can I do for you?"
Whitney offered me a price break. For me, this week only, a special: just under six hundred bucks.
I said no. Then I went out and paid somebody else to help me rewrite my resume. I liked her. I never found a job on the Ladders that suited me, either.
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