Apocalypse isn't the End of the World

As I write this I'm trying not to sweat. My air conditioner is pointed directly at me and I'm still disgusted with myself. I can't help it, I come from a sweaty people. A customer at my restaurant today said "It's nice we finally had a day of good weather." To which I responded, "I'm only outside for one minute and then my shirt gets wet." Which was probably more information than she wanted, but that's what she gets for making small talk about the weather. People like to get cheeky; "You'll miss then when it's snowing!" No, I won't. I'll wear all my favorite hoodies and my snow boots and be fine.

I've come up with one good trick for beating the heat this summer: tear off your skin. Makes it harder to sweat.

The sweat is also not helping this feeling of being burnt out. I've seen two plays these last two weekends and each one required a review written for The Pittsburgh Stage Online Magazine (go, click, give them a follow, all that crap. I'm obviously not in charge of marketing.) I'm not complaining about getting tickets to see theater because it is absolutely something I love doing. But each review requires a recap of what happened, some opinions of performances/writings/designs, and then a bit of an explanation as to what I think the play's message or theme is. All of which has to be written in a way where I feel I come off as intelligent. For these last reviews I've been struggling with that last part.

I've just seen a wide variety of shows lately and they're all fighting for space in my head. I've seen ancient Greek tragedies, an Irish play, a Sherlock Holmes play, and a musical from the fifties that is still incredible to watch. I know, I'm just too cultured. Or as cultured as someone with underboob sweat can be. But the ability to watch and understand theater is important and I write my reviews to encourage people with similar tastes (possibly in my age group?) to see theater whenever they have the opportunity. As I wind down on my month of reviews I'll be singing a musical (that I love) based off a movie that's starring a cast member from Glee. Art comes in all forms don't it?

Speaking of art, last week "they" released photos of the new X-men movie Apocalypse, which is coming out months from now. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm someone who doesn't get excited until I'm actually seeing the movie. Trailers and photos aren't for me. But people were up in arms about the appearance/design of the character Apocalypse (Oscar Isaacs):

That's him in the middle.

I'll be honest; I think it's fine. It doesn't spark anything in me one way or the other. But from the way people carried on you'd think Apocalypse was the end of the world (HA, goodnight everybody). For one thing, this is one shot of the movie. The character could go through some changes, this could be early on, we don't know if this is what he'll look like. Even if it is, this is a superhero movie and things should be allowed to look a little silly.

Look at his face though; there's some emoting going on there. Maybe a bit of sadness. Like acting. Who knows? Let's judge after the movie is over. Remember how we all hated Quicksilver's design and that turned out fine? Just relax. It probably won't be as bad as this guy:

Yeah, Juggernaut was never meant to exist in live action.

But some people had the audacity to negatively compare the above Apocalypse design to Ivan Ooze, the villain from the 90's Power Rangers: The Movie.

Excuse me? That's fucking awesome! Ivan Ooze was great; he was centuries old and wanted to rule the world, same as Apocalypse. You could have the actual Ivan Ooze stand in for Apocalypse in the X-men movie and it would be great. Have Paul Freeman reprise the role, it'll be even better. Ivan Ooze almost succeeded in killing a whole city's parent population, tell me that's not evil. Almost orphaned thousands of youths. Shit.

I feel myself getting silly the more I talk about it. Does this discredit what I said earlier about being cultured? Eh. Oh well.

Music to listen to: "We Need a Hero" - Power Rangers Redux (*makes me wanna go out and kick something)
Last Book I finished: Silence of the Lambs
Here's a Picture of a Rainbow I saw the other day

I Sing Because I'm Cranky

If you've ever had to work a customer service job with me then you're probably aware of this fact: I sing. I sing a lot. To myself. Could be anything: folk, pop, jazz, rock, the occasional show tune and, of course, "What's Up?" by 4 Non Blondes. A good many coworkers have expressed annoyance at this habit (which is fair). So lately I've begun to ask myself: why the hell do I do this?

I have no aspirations to be a singing performer, and if you've ever heard my voice you'll know that's a fortunate thing. I don't even sing karaoke, because it's not endearing to me in any way. So why do I act like I'm rehearsing for my summer tour opening for an American Idol runner-up?

I've come up with this hypothesis: I sing to keep myself from going postal.

I've skimmed a few articles about how singing all the time is good for you mentally and emotionally, the equivalence to starting your day with a cup of coffee and all that (my therapist confirmed this study for me this morning). That's comforting, but really you can google any topic and find a hundred articles to support your claim. Although the other day I googled "Is it okay to pour bacon grease down the sink if you run water from the faucet?" and it turns out NO, that is still NOT okay by anyone's standards.

The fact that I work somewhere where Pandora radio plays all the time is probably a good reason why there's always a song in my head. I've actually grown accustomed to hearing "Pumped Up Kicks" on a daily basis. The truth is I have to listen to a good bit of complaints at work, ranging from the temperature in the building to the size of the free cup you get when you get tap water with your lunch. Nothing too awful, really, but after a while you just gotta let loose with a few choruses of "Faith" (covered by Lake Street Dive). It restores your...faith...that not everyone in the world needs to be set on fire.

Sure it's a bit dramatic, but I like to think annoying my coworkers with song will cut down on my annoying them with angry complaints. Ultimately NO OF COURSE IT DOESN'T. I can always find something to complain about and I will. Sometimes the only thing keeping me from rolling my eyes aggressively at customers is to sing "Pirate Jenny" to myself, and imagine being the protagonist in that song who orders the execution of the patrons who were rude to her. See? That's totally healthy.

So am I healthier for singing all the time? Maybe. Am I healthier for eating a salad in bed at 10 PM while watching Teen Wolf? I certainly hope so. But I shall keep singing all the time. Because it's far too late to get diagnosed/medicated for ADD, and because it makes me feel good when I want to be elsewhere. So I'll paraphrase that old hymn:

I sing because I'm cranky
I sing because I'm pissed
My eye is on the time clock
And I can't wait to be done of this

I'll leave you with Mahalia Jackson singing the real version. Keep singing, crabasses!