Why am I such a GIRL?

I just got home from watching the two-parter "Criminal Minds" over at Daniel M.'s house. It's the one that they aired just after the Superbowl (I only know who was in the game because I was waiting for "Criminal Minds" to come on). Anyway...I am so crushing over the character of Dr. Spencer Reid (played by the beautiful Matthew Gray Gubler) and wishing I were the one who got to have his mismatched socks lying on my floor.

Why don't I just grow up and stop having stupid crushes? When will I bloody grow up? I keep thinking how much I'd like to write a play about love...about someone falling in love...but I can't. Why? Because how can I write about falling in love with someone and having them love back when all I ever get is unrequited love and celebrity crushes?

I was trying to write down my most romantic moments (kind of a valentine thing I wanted to do in my zine) when I realized all the romantic moments I could think of were from Jane Austen! Okay, so there was the time I danced with Daniel R. on the beach. That was kind of spiffy...but it was AFTER I knew he wasn't in love with me. There was the time that Daniel M. got the grasshopper out of the spiderweb for me and I thought he was the most heroic character I'd ever met...but that was just before I found out he wasn't interested in me. Then there was the time I was stuck in my coat because the zipper was caught and Pablo helped me get out of it. But that was also AFTER I knew he wasn't interested, either. And on the grand scale of romance, grasshoppers and broken zippers do not rank high. Nor should they really.

I bloodly hate bloody valentine's bloody day!

Oh...so very true.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Reverend Lady Maaike the Radiant of Much Madness upon Avon Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Improving?

Hi...this is a Johari window. If you have a moment, go to it and help me see what I need to be working on!

TA muchly!
Maaike

http://kevan.org/johari?name=Minky9

It's harder to compromise when you know too much.

The other day I was talking to my friend Jeff Beck on IM. He told me about a date he went on and why he wasn’t interested in dating her a second time. Then he asked me if I thought that people our age could actually have a relationship with anyone. I told him it was a matter of compromise. That in our 20’s were optimistic and feel that we can work through any difficulties that may arise, but as we get older we have more experience with things that we know won’t work. We’re more pessimistic and less willing to compromise. After every heartbreak we cross off another thing that we don’t want or and another thing we must have. Here is my example:

When I was 20 I was looking for a guy who shared my religious beliefs, was taller than me and had dark hair.

Now I’m looking for a guy who: shares my religious and political beliefs, is 6’4”, has dark hair, blue eyes and a European accent, plays acoustic guitar, likes the same kinds of movies, music, and books as me, is an artist (any medium—subject to change), is great at massages (and gives them to me only), is kind, generous, and respectful, has no debt and is willing to help me get rid of mine, has a car that works, is good at working on cars, has a job that pays well, is handy around the house, never has to be asked twice to do something, remembers my favorite color, flower, food, etc., kills bugs for me (or at least gets them out of my immediate area), makes me laugh and is either named Brian or David because those are the names my friends seem to have had luck with.

So, yes, it is possible for us older ones to have a successful relationship…it’s just a statistical improbability.

The COOLEST Christmas present ever!

Okay, so I got the COOLEST Christmas present ever. Sally and David Eames-Harlan gave me a faucet light! You put it on your faucet and when you turn it on a blue light comes on and lights up the water! ISN’T THAT AWESOME!

My apartment is VERY old…can someone tell me how to get calcium build up off of my faucet so I can turn on my faucet light?

my other one-pagers

AIRLINE REGULATIONS
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

At an airport waiting to board the plane. DEATH, who is very tall and wearing long black robes, walks in and sits in an empty chair next to NORBERT, a small, unassuming man.

NORBERT: (Nervously) Excuse me? Mr. Death?

DEATH: (In a very deep, clear voice.) Death.

NORBERT: Pardon?

DEATH: Just Death. Not Mister Death.

NORBERT: Oh, sorry. Um, Death, I...I see by your ticket that you’re in the seat right next to mine on the flight.

DEATH: 24C. Yes.

NORBERT: Should I be worried?

DEATH: Worried?

NORBERT: I mean, am I...(clears his throat) on your schedule?

DEATH: Not yet, Norbert.

NORBERT: (Very nervous) You know my name?

DEATH: I know everything’s name. I must know them all. I am Death.

NORBERT: Well, if it isn’t me, then it must be someone else on the plane.

DEATH: No.

NORBERT: (Panicking, but trying to speak quietly) Oh, God! Is the plane going to crash? Are we all going to die?

DEATH: Norbert, you need not worry.

NORBERT: We’re all going to be ok? All of us passengers?

DEATH: Yes.

NORBERT: (Relaxing) Slow day for death then, eh?

DEATH: No. There is never a slow day. (sulking, angrily, almost like a spoiled child) The airline made me check my scythe.

AIRLINE REGULATIONS: Part II
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

DEATH stands by the turning carousels of the baggage return. He is staring at an extremely nervous looking young man behind an airline counter. DEATH has his arms folded across his chest and is tapping his bony foot on the floor, making a loud, resounding, tap...tap...tap. Above his head is a sign that reads ARRIVALS. Quiet MUZAK is playing over the speaker system. ANNOUNCEMENTS of flights can be heard.

NORBERT grabs his bag from the carousel and sneaks away while DEATH is not looking. Other passengers follow suit.

DEATH: What do you mean, you’ve lost it?

CHICKEN OR FISH?
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

Airport waiting room/lounge. A man in a business suit sits reading a book. A young guy, disheveled, falls from above, then sits in the seat right next to him despite empty seats all around.

ANDRES: Dude, I was just abducted by aliens!

Man nods, trying to read his book.

ANDRES: Aliens! Can you believe it? Who knew they were real?

MAN (looks up at him): Were they like everyone says? Green-Grey with big eyes and no ears?

ANDRES: No man, not big eyes...they had big hair. Like, (thinking) who was that chick on t.v. a long time ago?

MAN: Barbara Streisand?

ANDRES: No. The Bionic Woman? Or maybe one of Charlie’s Angels?

MAN: Farrah Fawcett?

ANDRES: Yeah. These aliens had big hair like her. And they wore matching uniforms. Navy blue–with red stripy things at the neck. (beat) Cravats, I think, like Fred on “Scooby Doo.” And they pushed around silver carts filled with food.

Pause. Man turns back to his book.

ANDRES: (continued) They strapped me into a seat. Strapped me in! And there was like, no room to move. Then the big-haired aliens told me that the cushion under my butt could be used as a floatation device. How can I use the thing to float if they’ve strapped me in? And the bigger question is this: What were they going to do to make us have to float in the first place?

MAN: That is a corker.

ANDRES: You know what they did to me next?

MAN: (Keeping his eyes on his book). Shoved probes up your rectum?

ANDRES: No! Dude! That’s gross. No. (Almost shivers) They made me eat fish.

MAN: Fish?

ANDRES: Fish! They said in a really high pitched voices: (stress vowels) Weee are oooout of chiiiickeeeen. On the plus side, they gave me a bottle of vodka that they’d shrunk down with some kind of shrinking ray gun. That’s pretty damn cool.

(Pause).

ANDRES: (Continued) So, where are we?

MAN: Des Moines.

ANDRES: The aliens brought me to Iowa? Man! They could have at least left me the floaty-butt-cushion.

THE AISLE SEAT
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

A group of people stand in line waiting to check in at an airport. A tall woman in line is surrounded by many short people. A young kid stands behind her. The line moves slowly.

KID: You’re tall.

WOMAN: (Having heard this before) Yes.

KID: How tall are you?

WOMAN: 6' 2".

KID: Do you play basket-ball?

WOMAN: (Obviously tired of having had this same conversation many times) No.

KID: (Beat) How about volleyball?

WOMAN: Nope.

KID: Well, what sport do you play?

WOMAN: I don’t play any particular sport. (The man in front of her in line accidently bumps her with his bag. He looks back and then up.)

MAN: Sorry. (He stares for a moment then goes to the available attendant.)

KID: You’re taller than my dad.

ATTENDANT: Next. (The woman steps up and hands the attendant her ticket). Are you over six foot tall?

WOMAN: (Exasperated, addressing everyone around). Yes. I’m over six foot tall. Yes, I’m tall! No I don’t play basketball or volleyball! No, I can’t find women’s trousers with at least a 37 inch in-seam and yes, sleeves are always too short. Yes, thank you all for noticing the obvious and pointing it out to me! If it weren’t for all of you, I’d have never realized my own height!

ATTENDANT: (Beat) Um. I was just wondering if you’d like an aisle seat. You can stretch your legs out. I mean, it’s a long flight.

WOMAN: (undaunted) Oh, yes. That’d be great.

OZ AIR
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

On the cleared side of the metal detector stand DOROTHY, COWARDLY LION and SCARECROW.

TIN MAN walks through and BEEPS. He returns to the other side and takes off his hat. He tries again. BEEP.

TIN MAN: Oh! (Slapping himself on the head). My oil can. Sorry.

He tries again to walk through the metal detector and BEEPS again.

TIN MAN: I’m sorry I’m a problem. It’s causing me such great despair.

DOROTHY: I swear, if we end up walking to OZ again, I’m gonna be pissed.

The Red-Eye
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

Three vampires stand in line at a check in counter in this order: TALL, MEDIUM & SHORT. They are all trying desperately to pretend that they are not vampires, but they are all obviously vampires. TALL speaks slowly and with confidence. MEDIUM is very nervous and SHORT is somewhat oblivious to life around him. They each have a small carry-on bag.

CLERK: Window or Aisle?

ALL: (very quickly) Aisle!

CLERK: Any dietary preferences on your in-flight meal?

TALL: We’re vegetarians.

SHORT: I’m not. (The middle vampire elbows him in the ribs.) Oof! (He gets the hint) I mean...I’m not hungry. Right now. But when I do get feeling a bit peckish, I would, of course, prefer the vegetarian meal.

(Medium and Tall start whispering)

TALL: And we have food allergies.

MEDIUM: Yes, we’re allergic to garlic.

CLERK: No garlic?

MEDIUM: All of us.

TALL: It’s a family thing.

(Pause as the clerk enters this into his computer. The vampires exchange “yes, we are so smart” glaces.)

CLERK: You know, you’re in luck, there’s an earlier flight that has some space on it. We could get you on...

TALL: Ah, ha-ha. I, that is, we appreciate your courtesy. But we really don’t mind flying the red-eye. We are, as one would say creatures of the night.

MEDIUM: People! People of the night!

TALL: We are people of the night.

SHORT: Night-people. So to speak.

CLERK: Well, you’re very lucky. Our Flight attendants are also night-people! Debbie, Buffy and Frank have been flying this...

MEDIUM: Excuse me...who?

CLERK: Debbie, Buffy and Frank...

(The vampires go into a quick huddle. We hear them whispering. The clerk leans in to try to hear. The huddle breaks.)

TALL: (Trying to be nonchalant) I went to school with a Buffy. Is she 5 feet 4ish with blonde hair?

CLERK: No, she’s a 5 foot 9 brunette...from Brazil.

(All vampires show that they are physically relieved).

TALL: (Continuing his act of nonchalance) Oh, that’s not her then. My mistake.

CLERK: Well, here we are, then. Three tickets. Your seats are listed here (clerk points to a place on the ticket) and your flight leaves from Gate 6A.

ALL VAMPIRES: (Various lines of Thank you’s)

They pick up their bags and head off stage. The clerk continues to shuffle papers and type into the computer. After a moment an announcement is made...

ANNOUNCER: Due to mechanical issues, Transylvania flight 722 will be grounded. But don’t worry, passengers, we’ve got good news. Van Helsing Air has agreed to take the passengers on to their destination. Please board at Gate 6A.

The clerk shuffles papers. The three vampires come running from the direction they left and continue off the other side of the stage.

CLERK: (Smiling) Works every time.

One Page Plays

Here at UI there is a festival of one page plays. Two of mine: Come in Tower and Angel Commandos were presented in this festival in 2005. Here they are...

Come in, Tower
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

ED standing on step ladder on the tarmac. Waiting. He looks around, sees Harley’s dog and makes note of it. DAN approaches, eating a sandwich that he takes from a paper bag. They are both wearing blue coveralls.

DAN: Hi Ed.

ED: Hi Dan.

DAN: Flight comin’ in today?

ED: Yep.

They wait.

ED: You still datin’ Shirley?

DAN: Yep.

ED: Isn’t hard having her gone all the time?

DAN: If something’s important, you work for it.

ED: Ain’t that the truth.

DAN: Only...

ED: Yeah...

DAN: It doesn’t seem the same.

ED: Things change.

DAN: I mean. I think she’s seeing someone else.

ED: One of those business guys?

DAN: Maybe. Or a pilot at one of them fancy airports. You know how women are suckers for uniforms.

ED: What do you think you’re wearin’?

DAN: A uniform that ain’t covered in grease.

(Pause)

ED: You wanna get a beer after work?

DAN: Shirley’s coming today.

ED: Stayin’ the week?

DAN: Yep.

ED: Bring her along.

DAN: Sure. She’s a sport.

FEMALE VOICE: Tower, this is Flight B. Come in tower. (While the announcement is heard, ED climbs to the top rung of the ladder and Dan picks up the paper bag and holds it above his head to see if there is any wind.)

ED: (Speaking into a walkie-talkie) This is Tower. Come in.

FEMALE VOICE: Hey, Ed. How’s it look?

ED looks back and forth from his position on top of the ladder.

ED: Clear in all directions. Wind is from the...

DAN: North.

ED: ...North. And Harley’s dog is loose again. (Looks around.) Can’t see it right now.

FEMALE VOICE: Roger, watch for Harley’s dog.

DAN tugs on ED’s pants leg.

ED: Oh, hey, Shirl? Dan says Hi.

FEMALE VOICE: Hi Sweetie!

ED: Runway’s yours, Shirl. Tower out.

He remains on the ladder, looks to one side where the plane is coming from and slowly starts waving his arm in a large gesture.

DAN: You could hear it in her voice. I don’t think she loves me any more.

Pause

ED: You can’t stop progress, Dan. You just can’t.

Angel Commandos: Warriors of the Sky

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

In an airport in front of the escalators. ULI an angel with halo, wings and army boots carries a walkie talkie.

ULI: G-R-4 to base. Come in base.

BASE: This is base, go ahead GR4.

ULI: Where’s the newbie you’re sending me?

BASE: She left 20 minutes ago. Hang on. G-1-6 this is Base. Come in, G-1-6...(beat) She’s not responding.

ULI: (sighs) There she is, I see her. G-R-4 out.

BASE: Base out.

Enter NELLIE a less experienced commando.

NELLIE: (Dressed the same. She is very happy) Hi! I’m Nellie! I got a little lost in the... (gestures back to where she came from and mimes putting on and off a top hat with both hands.)

ULI: What’s your code?!

NELLIE: Code?

ULI: We address each other in code!

NELLIE: Um...(looking at her halo for identification) Gabriel sixteen. I think.

ULI: G-1-6. I’m G-R-4.

NELLIE: (looking around) I thought there’d be more of us. JFK is a very big airport.

ULI: There’s usually 25 of us in Domestic, but it’s just you and me this afternoon.

NELLIE: Why?

ULI: The group was dispatched to Flight 815.

NELLIE: Why? (Quietly leaning in to ULI) Is the plane going to crash?

ULI: No, food poisoning. (beat) Just you and me deciding where we’re really needed. (She looks at her monitor–NELLIE leans in).

NELLIE: Oh no! Blasmessy!

ULI: What?

NELLIE: Blasmessy. You know, the taking of the Lord’s name in vain.

ULI: Blasphemy.

NELLIE: That’s what I said; blasmessy.

ULI: It’s pronounced blasphemy.

(Pause)

NELLIE: Is it still a sin if you can’t pronounce it?

ULI: Fuck, yeah.

Her halo starts blinking red and blue like police lights. OR there is a loud siren.

ULI: Sorry, just trying to prove a point.

Her halo returns to normal.

NELLIE: (Looking at monitor) Crisis of Faith! Crisis of Faith! What’re we going to do!? (Nellie mumbles...) First we’ll...then I’ll...

ULI: I’ve got it. (Into walkie talkie) G-R-4 to base.

BASE: Go ahead G-R-4.

ULI: Flight 1243 to Pittsburgh needs to experience some faith promoting turbulence.

BASE: We’re on it. Base out.

NELLIE: Wow. You really stay calm during a crisis.

ULI: I’ve been on the job a long time. Stick with me–you’ll learn a thing or two.

BASE: G-R-4 this is Base.

ULI: Go ahead, Base.

BASE: You’re needed in sector 2.

ULI: Roger, that. G-R-4 out. (To Nellie) Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. It’s all yours.

NELLIE: You’re going to...(gulp) leave me?

ULI: You’ll be fine. (Exits).

Nellie talks to herself trying to remain calm. Something happens off stage...like ULI kick something with her boot and there is a muffled “FUCK” from off stage. The sirens start sounding again throwing Nellie into a panic.

Fade out.