Nobody Knows Anything

Welcome to Diane Patterson's eclectic blog about what strikes her fancy

Doctor Who vs. the Blood Elves

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The kids’ obsession recently has been World of Warcraft, to the point where they were continuously fighting over who got to play. “You played last! It’s my turn!” “No, you played! It’s mine!” (This is how they play: they start a character, do all the intro quests, lose interest, start another character. Sophia has shown great fortitude in getting a character all the way to level 15.) So, finally I came up with this rule: Sophia was born on an even day, so she plays on even days; Simon was born on an odd day, so he plays on odd days; only Mommy gets to play on the 31st.

And this plan, almost unbelievably, seemed to work out just fine.

My current obsession has been Doctor Who. The third season has been playing here, and I love it so much that, while I can pass on watching anything until a few days have gone by, Friday night I am right there in front of the TV. (Albeit, after it’s TiVo’d—can’t stand commercials.) I have recently become so into it I a)joined NetFlix (nope, hadn’t been a member before) and b)queued the first two seasons to watch at home. I’d never seen any of the Christopher Eccleston ones, and we missed about half of season two.

The day my first NetFlix movies arrived Sophia had a friend over, and they were off playing in her room, while Simon stayed with me. He, of course, wanted to play World of Warcraft, but it wasn’t his day. So I said, “Hey, wanna watch Doctor Who with me?” We snuggled on the couch and I put the first disc in. And it was hilarious—FTW: “If you’re a space alien, how come you sound like you’re from the North?” “Lots of planets have a North!” (Eccleston has a northern British accent you could cut with a chain saw). Simon thought it was the greatest thing ever.

The next day Simon said, “Can we watch another one?” and Sophia said, “Another what?” So she sat down to watch the Doctor and Rose get into various messes.

The day after that, when I got home with the kids, the first thing they asked was, “Can we watch another Doctor Who?” No one mentioned World of Warcraft. It was somewhat blissful. Of course, now my DVDs have run out and I have to get the next set post-haste.

But when the Doctor’s in the house…no Warcraft! Yes!

And the show ends

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After two incredibly busy weeks, the Third Annual Foothill College New Works Festival comes to an end. I can’t believe it — I remember looking at the summer of rehearsals and going, Wow, this is going to take forever, and like every time you have that thought: Poof. It’s over.

The whole experience was fabulous. Watching the director work with the actors, seeing the actors try various things, sitting through several rehearsals of not only my show but others to see how they were coming together: priceless. Also, my critical faculties zoomed way up during the process — as I told Mary Ann during our drives to and from Foothill, I was itching to get out my red pen and edit everyone’s play, not just my own. “Give me a chance, I’ll take out five minutes from everyone’s play!” I said. (This wasn’t an option for any of us; final edits were due July 24: they were not chancing playwrights rewriting up until opening night.)

The only thing that had me really, really worried was that the show was really, really long (two and a half hours, including intermission) and my play was last. Why was mine last? Was this a comment on my play? Would the audience even stay that long to see mine? (Seriously, I can overanalyze anything.) I liked the friends who told me mine was last because you always save the best for last. I have no idea how in fact the show order was chosen, but that explanation suited me just fine.

And then, August 10, the birthday of moi, the New Works Festival opened. I discovered that I can’t see a play as if for the first time: all I could see was where the actors did something different, or missed a line. Why didn’t the audience laugh at that? Or, why did they laugh at that line, that was never funny before. I couldn’t accurately judge what the audience thought of any one play, but they sure seemed to like the evening overall. The actors had so much more energy with an actual audience there. Lines went faster, action became more electric. Theater is a participatory sport, whether or not the audience knows it.

Darin went to the show on Saturday night.

Darin’s special genius is being able to honestly assess things for what they are, point out their strengths, and analyze their weaknesses. This turns out to be a very marketable skill (as you might imagine), although a couple of times it’s really, really annoyed some people; they don’t want to hear criticism, they just want to hear how great everything is. If this is what you want, Darin is not your guy. I don’t show everything I write to Darin, because if I ask him what he thinks, he’s going to tell me. Only when I’m sure I’m ready to hear it do I ask.

When he came home from the show, he said, “I’m not sure which was the best, yours or (other play), but I liked both of them for (list of reasons here).” And you have no idea how much that critique meant to me. We discussed some of the other plays too, and he had much the same take on most of them that I did. I’m sure if I would have let him, he would have done an analysis of my play that would show me where I could strengthen it and explain a bit more, and which parts I could cut but I didn’t ask and he’s not going to volunteer (because he likes being married and he knows my process by now).

My friend Rob went with Darin Saturday and told me he really enjoyed it too, particularly mine. He even said, “You should write more of these,” which was nice to hear. And he even explained to me why mine was last: “no dull moments…
perhaps not every joke worked, but one had not time to ponder it because, hey, here’s the next one.”

So, it’s all over now. Alas. I am quite fired up to finish a full-length play and submit to a few festivals. The Foothill Playwriting class starts Sept. 26 — if you’re looking for a great writing class with a committed (and committable) bunch of writers in it, I highly recommend it.

Lazy family Sunday

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I woke up this morning at 4:30, when it was finally cold enough in the bedroom to close the window, and I noticed Darin had not yet come to bed. Three options: he was working, he was playing World of Warcraft, he had fallen asleep in front of the TV. I was rooting for the second two, which made me suspect it was the first one.

The alarm went off at 6, Darin was asleep. I got up and started getting ready to go run. By the time Rob arrived at 7, the kids had come downstairs and I told them they could watch TV for a while, or, if they got hungry, Sophia could get them cereal and milk. They were only to bother Daddy if there was a)blood or b)fire. Rob and I went out for a good eight mile run. Despite starting at about 7, the creek trail was already packed — it’s like a thoroughfare for pedestrians, bicyclists, strollers, dogs (being walked), and runners. Luckily Rob and I don’t move very fast, so there were no collisions.

When I got back Sophia announced that she wanted to have a picnic in the park, which I thought was a faboo idea. Much better than yesterday’s plan, which was mostly “Everybody sits around the house and plays lots of World of Warcraft, except Mommy, who wrote a little bit and also did the dishes” day. Darin woke up around 11, at which point I learned that he had in fact been up until 5:30 am working <i>and</i> playing World of Warcraft, which I thought was a neat trick. I made lunches. We eventually got our acts together and on our bikes. Darin had Simon on the trailer bike, Sophia had her own bike, and I packed all of our stuff and picnic gear into my Xtracycle. We spent a couple of hours at the park, which was beautiful: warm but not too warm, sunny, a nice cool breeze. Another perfect California day.

As Sophia and I were sitting on the picnic blanket, I looked over at the train, which runs in a giant loop around the park, and I said, “I remember when we used to go on that every week.” She shrugged and said, “I don’t like it any more. It’s too babyish.” It was kind of a sad moment for me, realizing my baby is growing up at top speed.

Darin biked home with Simon while I stayed with Sophia. Who proceeded to play in the sand area and soak her clothes and herself through. I texted Darin (texting! I understand why it’s so popular!) and told him to drive back to the park with a towel. He picked up Sophia and her bike, and I rode mine home. Now we’re sitting around the house again (Darin playing World of Warcraft, me in the kitchen writing) and I’m trying to psych myself up to go to the store and do food shopping. Now would be a good time for us to have minions.