I need to get away – hop a plane, turn vicariously into Abby for a few days – find some inspiration, some relaxation.  For to rid myself of this nonsense and negativity will certainly require both a change of scenery and a change of pace. I wish I lived closer to the city.

Hurt feelings morph, all too quickly, into this protective veil of resentment, which flows fluidly into frustrated abandon.  I’ve lived well enough without having to deal with such trivial things – I’m downright programmed to survive as an emotional minimalist.

I thought of new stories for my dear compadre, Ms. Harris.  Old tricks and forgotten successes, complete with associated revelations, will only serve to strengthen the resolve of one who is more determined than ever to find something more meaningful on which to focus her pursuits.

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I’m having increasingly intense nightmares these days, which, while may not shock some (given my inclination to choose the most controversial horror flicks by which to ‘relax’), took me by surprise simply due to their non-horror and atypical nature.

I dream about my mother.

These dreams are not based in reality, save for the negative feelings associated with and throughout them – I’m not reliving or rehashing the past, or caught up in some unfulfilled childhood fantasy.  Instead, she takes on the ultimate antagonist role – successfully thwarting each of my random attempts at successes of varying degree.  In some dreams, she’s a Vorhees-like figure of terror…in others, she’s merely a Joan Crawford caricature whose aim is to sully any semblance of meaning and fulfillment I might scrape up within the dream. This recent one was striking, leaving me teary-eyed and foul for most of my waking day.

I wanted revenge.

Perhaps revenge is too strong a term for what I sought, but I certainly wanted to make the maternal figure suffer and seemingly went to great lengths to accomplish such.  But it didn’t work – no matter how desperately I tried to contact her (manically calling her mobile but not making it through a 30-minute greeting), I couldn’t get my point made to her that part of me wished to make her suffer much more so than she had made me in the past.  I couldn’t get through to her.

Instead, I could almost hear her voice expressing her joy at my most recent failure in acquiring a new job (one that I was very much pushed to apply for by those whom I figured knew better).

Don’t get your hopes up…you know you’ll only disappoint yourself.

In this dream my father stood staunchly next to me, not necessarily for encouragement, but more for catharsis, methinks.

I do not wish to dream such dreams.

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Jim Florentine ticket giveaway – May 29 at The Wilbur Theatre

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Is it customary to give out your phone number to a girl when you’re already out with another?

Though I do understand that said girl was a mutual friend, I’m not so ignorant as to not catch on to the endless banter and borderline flirting taking place around me – certainly not when I’m the date.  And the half-drunken demand for my date’s phone number (which he happily provided to her) as well did not go unnoticed.

I hadn’t the expectation that my night out would stray down the path of third-wheel-hood for me, and though I did my best to brush it off, I still woke up with that all-too-familiar Wait, what? feeling.  Thankfully, I’m far too tired to ponder the matter further.

And there’s too much to do.  The Greater Boston Comedy Relay heads over to Mottley’s in just two weeks to kick off its May stretch, and I’m far too concerned with where my headliner is going to sleep when he arrives in two weeks to think about much else.  You’d think it would be far easier to get a hotel to donate ONE measly room in the name of the cancer fight.

I’m vastly overtired and because of this, can’t let go of the whole number-giving thing.  I mean, he had to let go of my hand in order to give his phone number to this girl.  And as one would expect, they are already BFFFs (best Facebook friends forever).

Have at it, sunshine. I don’t need this shit.

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A comedian friend of mine posed this question to me in an over-crowded coffee shop in a rather busy shopping center the other day, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a good way of putting it.

I don’t like to not be busy – not necessarily running hither and thither incessantly, with little downtime, but cerebrally busy.  Busy planning, thinking, analyzing, creating.  There has to be some meaty little project I can sink my teeth into, or else I run the risk of becoming a perpetually lazy creature. I sit here, right now, in the sunshine of my living room, trying to coach myself on just doing nothing today (but I’ve already broken that promise to myself several times).

I had the pleasure of attending Charlie Murphy at the Wilbur Theatre on Friday evening, in order to write a review for bostonist.com.  While I’m well familiar with his movies and his role on the Chappelle Show, I’d never actually seen his stand up.

Holy crap.

I was blown away, to my amazement – I expected a lot of similarity to his opener, Freeze(?), or to Eddie Griffin (meh).  Not so much, as Murphy was a comedic mastermind. I’ve not yet seen an entertainer quite as skilled at his trade as Charlie Murphy.  Still gotta write my review, which will be stellar.  I’m not rushing, since I’m waiting to get my info for my own publishing interface for the online blog (yay).

My 18 month-old nephew arrives from Tuscon this week.  I’ve not yet my nephew. To say I’m excited would be like saying that I have a slight fondness for coffee – an obscene understatement.  I also haven’t seen my  brother in something like two years, and my sister-in-law in even longer.  I just have to get through two measly days of work, first, and then it’s time to hang with the little man. Yay!

Wednesday night is Angie’s Anti-Cancer Comedy Birthday Bash at the Vault, which I hope will be amazing.  News of the event (courtesy of my own doing, naturally), ended up making the American Cancer Society’s daily newswire, which is sent out nationally to ACS staff.  That was pretty badass.

After a long period of repression, I’ve finally accepted the undeniable fact that I have rather hefty crush on a dude.  I won’t get into details, but he’s significantly younger than me, probably won’t reciprocate, yet may drop by the birthday show this week.  I hate that I still go down that road – that whole, ‘it won’t be disappointing if I already have myself convinced he won’t be attracted to me’ thing. Lame.

So we’ll see. He intrigues me, which is something that has been significantly lacking in the dating pool for a considerable amount of time.

So…nephew’s arrival, nephew’s first meeting of the J-Bear, birthday show, birthday, maybe Russell  Brand on Saturday, definite interview with Steve Hofstetter on Sunday.

If the object of my crush unfortunately doesn’t end up feeling it, who’ll have time to wallow?

Not this chick.

Not me, not neva!

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It’s April Fool’s day, which, oddly enough, has seemingly marked an end to a very nasty stretch of foul-mood and foul-weather days.  Rain sucks, flooding sucks more, and I’ve been very negligent (marking the second time in ten minutes I’ve used that word).

I lamented to a week-long house guest yesterday that I was in dire need of some alone time, hoping he’d take the cue to simply be somewhere else for a few hours.  Instead, I came home to find all of his stuff gone, leaving me to play the role of Satan.  It’s okay for a while, but red’s never really been my color and the forked tail makes my butt look big. I managed to clear the air, while retaining my new, more private environment. So that’s something.

In two weeks, Alexander the Great arrives in water-logged Massachusetts.  I simply cannot wait to scoop up my little nephew for the first time and blow raspberries on his tummy. But I must. For now.

What else? Still hate Dane Cook and fail to find the funny in anything he says (especially his Twitter feed, which merely exists to anger me).

Two weeks into Zen Garden 2010 and hope to be selling off baby tomato plants to raise some fundage for Relay For Life, but hanging onto the rest: lettuce, strawberries, mammoth sunflowers, more tomatoes, peppers, hot peppers, peas….going a little crazy with it this year.  I need to, methinks.

A month till the Greater Boston Comedy Relay heads to Mottley’s Comedy Club.  Have you purchased your tickets yet?

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So check it out:  in addition to my work as the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner, I’ve been asked to be a contributor for bostonist.com.  Check out my latest review of the March 13 Norm MacDonald show at Boston’s Wilbur Theatre!

Upcoming fun events in Boston that I’ll be covering: ImprovBoston’s Women In Comedy Festival, Independent Film Festival Boston

And, of course, let us not forget that the Greater Boston Comedy Relay kicks off NEXT WEDNESDAY March 24 at Dick’s Beantown Comedy Vault, featuring Paul Nardizzi, Mike Koutrobis, Dave Kennedy and more! Tickets are $20 and can be purchased by calling 800-401-2221.

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***Okay, so this is a World Lit II paper I wrote during my second year of college that I came across during the move.  That is all.***

Homer and Sophocles create complex plots and characters in two of their major works.  The story of The Iliad is involved and complex, as are the characters presented in the epic.  Antigone presents some of the same characters present in past works by Sophocles, and his plot presents difficult situations and actions.  Although the two works differ in time period and subject matter, there are many similarities between the two leaders of each work.  The Iliad’s Agamemnon and Antigone‘s Creon are alike in their personalities as men and leaders.  The two monarchs are also viewed quite similarly by their people.

Homer’s Agamemnon is a rather complex individual.  Although he possesses a position of authority, there are many instances in The Iliad in which he displays a puerile disposition.  He is a selfish person who, like a child, refuses to give up what he feels belongs to him.  In Book I, he refuses to give up Chryseis, whom he has claimed as his prize.  By doing this he altogether ignores the reason of the girl’s father, his own men, and event the will of Apollo.  ”The girl – I won’t give up the girl…Now go, don’t tempt my wrath,” (I, 34-38). By his own selfishness and seemingly violent attacks on Chryseis he exhibits ate, or excessive behavior, a negative aspect of the code by which he should live.

Agamemnon is a proud man who will do anything to get his own way, rarely considering the consequences of his actions.  In the case of his refusal to give up Chryseis, the Greek army suffered tremendous losses at the hands of Apollo.

Creon shares many of the same selfish characteristics as Agamemnon.  He is a rash man who is quick to condemn those who happen to disagree with him.  This nature is clearly exhibited in Creon’s dealings with Haemon, his own son.  In episode three of Antigone, Haemon begins to voice his disapproval of his father’s jurisdiction.  Creon, angered at this point, is quick to insult his own blood rather than listen to reason.  ”You, you soul of corruption, rotten through – Woman’s accomplice!” (835-36) Creon’s insults and rash behavior are significant causes of his eventual downfall.

As leaders, Agamemnon and Creon are very similar.  Agamemnon is an irresolute but well-meaning king, and, beneath his pride, his interest lies in the well-being of his troops.  ”What I really want is to keep my people safe, not see them dying,” (I, 136-37).

It is clear that Agamemnon sees that he must do what is necessary in order to keep his army alive.  Well-meaning as he may be, however, Agamemnon cannot seem to overcome his own ego.  He feels as though his authority places him on the same level as the gods, and that no man equals his power.  His quarrel with Achilles, however, in Book I indicates that Agamemnon feels as though his leadership and power is threatened by Achilles.  ”He wants to rule over all, to lord it over all, give out orders to every man in sight,” (I, 337-38).

A paranoid Agamemnon tells Nestor that he fears this threat to his authority.  It is perhaps this deep-seeded insecurity that forces him to develop such an arrogant attitude in his reign as king.

Creon is just as well-meaning in his leadership.  In his first public address as king of Thebes, Creon states that “Our country is our safety,” (211). He declares his laws with his country’s best intentions in mind.

One is able to see a similar sense of insecurity in Creon as is present in Agamemnon, through Creon’s distinct hatred of women.  His misogynous attacks stem from a feeling that his authority is threatened by Antigone’s challenge to his laws.  His fears grow as Haemon doubts his father’s judgement.  Haemon informs the king that many of the people of Thebes feel that Antigone has done no wrong, and Creon feels even more threatened by this.  In discussing public opinion, Creon remarks, “and is Thebes about to tell me how to rule?” (821)  This also demonstrates Creon’s belief that his power places him among the gods.  He is convinced that whatever action he takes, the gods will support him, and not a traitor.

Unfortunately for the two leaders, their concerns for the well-being of the respective people are muddled by each man’s egotism.

In The Iliad, the Greek troops’ collective opinion of Agamemnon is displayed through individual reactions to the fight that occurred between the king and Achilles.  In Book XVIII, Odysseus clearly tells Agamemnon that he is the cause of the loss of Achilles.

Great marshal Atrides, lord of men Agamemnon -

if only you’d never begged for the dauntless son of Peleus

holding out to Achilles trove on trove of gifts!

He’s a proud man at the best of times, and now

you’ve only plunged him deeper in his pride. (XVIII, 850-54)

The Greek troops understand that it is because of Agamemnon and his pride that they have lost their best warrior, Achilles.  Eventually, Agamemnon sees the error of his ways, though not taking responsibility for his actions, and is bent on setting things right for the Greeks.  Fortunately for Agamemnon, this realization comes in time to correct his ways.

Creon is viewed by his people much in the same manner.  In Thebes, the public opinion is that Antigone committed no crime.  To the people, she did a noble act of familial loyalty to her dead brother. Creon appears as the criminal for condemning Antigone to death.

Creon experiences a similar realization as Agamemnon.  His change of heart, however, does not come in time to set things right.  He has already lost his wife and son, both committing suicide, and Antigone is already dead.  It is too late for Creon to correct his wrongdoings, although he has recognized them.

As men, leaders and public figures, Agamemnon and Creon are extremely similar and share the same nature and motivations.  Perhaps the only difference between the men is the tragic timing of Creon’s repentance, wherein he fully suffered the consequences of his actions.

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With increasing traffic to this site (thank you, thank you), I thought I’d take a moment to remind, or let you know for the first time, about my other gig as the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner.

Here you’ll find all of the latest news on all things comedy in Beantown, including shows, contests, professional opportunities and in-depth interviews with some of your favorite comics. You can also follow the Boston Comedy Scene Examiner on Twitter or on Facebook!

So stop by, take a look, and get to know the lighter side of Boston.

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So I decided to make some changes to my lifestyle this past weekend – changes which were much needed, long overdue, and made out of utter necessity.

And I frickin’ hate it.

But I’m supposed to hate it, and it’s supposed to drive me crazy, and someday, maybe, I’ll feel a whole lot better about it.  I can’t help but feel like a little kid again – back in the “Look what Angie did” role instead of the “Look what Angie’s doing” role.  Eventually, I’ll come out of this stronger, better, healthier; in the meantime, however, it’s just another quiet little solo-undertaking of mine that the rest of the world will find out about once I’ve managed to do it. If I manage to do it (oh, how I hope I do it).

I’ve started to look back on my life as a source of strength.  I think of all of the things I’ve gotten through alone – all of the things – and know, with a high degree of confidence, that I can tackle this.  But the nature of having to do it by myself can’t be ignored, and it keeps pulling me into this ancient mindset of fending for myself.

During my junior year of high school, I decided to take a photography class.  The class was normally reserved for seniors, and this particular class was over-filled with students.  Desperate to reduce the class size to a manageable one, the teacher looked at me and asked if I’d opt to take the class the following year. I refused to budge.

That class morphed later into an independent study and enrollment in ‘Art IV’ (an elite and highly-respected class which was near impossible to get into, but our principle was at a loss as to where to put me and my ‘independent study’), and my teacher quickly lost the ability to spend a great deal of one-on-one time with me.  After absconding to the darkroom with most of his photography textbooks, I ended up teaching myself a slew of darkroom techniques that evoked intense shock and surprise from my teacher, who hadn’t a minute to spare for me.

“Hey Angela,” he said one day, holding one of my solarized prints in his hand, “how’d you learn to do this?”

That question would come to almost define my lifestyle.  Placid little achievements, most when no one else was looking – surprises along the way at what I’m actually capable of.  This is one of the benefits of being an underdog – there are no expectations for your success in life.  No matter what I do or do not achieve, there will be no looking back with, “we always knew she’d make it” or “she had so much promise”.  That being said, there’s no self-pity in that statement. There may have been a time when I longed for encouragement (especially from family), but being the shining example of Darwinism that I am, I’ve learned to count on my own encouragement.

So while I may seem rife with defeatism or highly self-absorbed and whining, it’s actually quite a remarkable feeling to realize that, despite your best efforts, upbringing, and penchant for giving up, there really is this sort of emotional ‘survival of the fittest’ that takes place while you’re busy looking at what others have.

And even if there’s no one around me (literally speaking, of course), cheering me on, I can never forget that I have it within me to look around, if only at myself, and say with confidence, “I got this.”

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