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Catching Up
Feb. 4th, 2015 10:31 pmDamn, I wish L***** would stop blocking this site. That's where I like to update--no access means fewer pearls I share about my fascinating life ;) I'M JUST SAYING
So I'm heading a class on Wednesdays--last fall I was the assistant for this class, now I'm heading it. It's a class with a lot of challenges. 1) The space is small and weirdly-shaped. 2) The age is disparity is huge--we have several 3 year olds, a few 4 year olds and several 5 year olds, including one big boy who is nearly 6. Big Boy is named Vicente and we had him last fall--he likes to KICK, which is a problem when you have several 3 year olds toddling around, barely able to connect their foot to the ball with any consistency. So I've been trying to figure out appropriate, fun lessons that are more than just daycare, that actually teach soccer, but that won't either: knock down the babies or: bore the older ones. To make it more challenging, two of the girls just DO NOT WANT to engage. One is 3 and she basically just doesn't want to do it. (And it looks as though she's not coming back--she's a sweet kid but this is for the best.) The other is 5 and she's more frustrating. Because she doesn't just not want to engage. What she really wants is for us to make a fuss over her. I've told her if she doesn't want to play, she can watch from the sidelines, but she doesn't just withdraw--she crawls all over the floor, she sticks her legs out, she does everything she can to pull the attention onto her and away from either the lesson or the game. And if I had just one more coach, we could indulge her drama queen antics. But we don't--there are only two of us leading this class. I've tried talking to her, trying to convince her, trying to sell her on the game but she just doesn't want to be there. Two weeks ago the class literally STOPPED--we'd started the Big Game and she kept wandering through it, dragging on our hands. Wouldn't sit down, wouldn't play. Very, very frustrating. But last week's class and today's actually went very well. I talked to my assistant and put him in charge of her--I said we're not going to fuss over her too much as long as she's out of the way. She didn't like that too much, as we weren't fawning over her, but the other kids in the class had a good time and they learned about (last week) Offense v. Defense and (this week) Passing.
So I had a long talk with the after school coordinator today saying I didn't think little girl should be in the class as it wasn't fair to the rest of the kids. She agreed. Who knows what will happen but the last two classes really have gone well, and I feel good about them.
Now, for recent news...
A month ago, pretty much everyone who reads this blog knows what happened: the apartment where D***** lived was completely devastated by fire. We all found out via FB, and D***** posted that it had started in A*****'s room. For those who aren;t aware, I know A*****. A***** was the director of the Scottish Play in 2010/11--he asked me to be on his team "in any capacity you like." I said sure, I'd like to be dramaturg. He then asked if I would also be assistant director. And he proceeded to fuck up the entire production to the point where he got FIRED. And then begged me not to accept the job if it was offered to me. Another A story--he wanted to read for the Nurse when Jason and I were casting Romeo and Juliet. I allowed him to read but there was no way in holy hell I was going to take away that great role from a woman and give it to a man. (He actually wasn't bad but the concept itself is so effing campy and cringe-inducing.) After the audition he said he wanted to work on the production anyway, and asked to design costumes. Thereafter, for about a week, followed a shitton of emails from him. Like, 405 emails a day about costumes. I kept saying "please keep it simple, this is outdoor drama in the park." And then I got this stupid dramatic email from him saying he had to drop out, he couldn't do costumes, he was going to have to move back to Baltimore. Then the kicker--unless I could lend him [I can't remember the exact figure but it was well over $1000--I think it was over $2000, in fact] so he could avoid eviction. I was so disgusted. I mean, really, absolutely disgusted. How completely classless, to put me on the spot like that. I wasn't a good friend, I wasn't family, I hardly knew him. GROSS.
So I have no great opinion of A*****. Everything seems to overwhelm him, he's always so aggrieved and beset and there's always some basic living skill he can't seem to accomplish. Working on Macbeth was annoying as hell--he tried to pick my brain for ideas, "how would you direct this scene? This bit?"" Fucking do your own work, A*****! YOU'RE the director, come up with your own ideas! Stop trying to mine mine, I might get the chance to direct it myself someday. As it was he lifted the entire concept of his show from the BAM production. Classy.
So when D***** said the fire had started in A's room, my hackles rose. Then someone started a Go Fund Me for A, because he'd incurred injuries fighting the fire--and of course, of course, OF FUCKING COURSE he did not have insurance, even though he was required by law. (Apparently he's lost his job--yes, that does suck but there are affordable options now. The ACA is specifically addressing that. There are solutions--even if they're expensive, it's a hell of a lot more expensive to go to the hospital without insurance.) And the language on the Go Fund Me was weird--it vaguely blamed "a faulty space heater." Then later that day (or the next day), similar Go Fund Mes were set up for D and the third roommate, K**. D's took off right away, and even surpassed A's. By the end of Thursday (the day after the fire) both were up to nearly $7,000 and people were planning a joint fundraiser for the three of them.
Thursday night I met D at Marie's. After quite a few drinks I pulled him into the staircase and spoke plainly to him. I said first--DO NOT commingle your funds with his. Maintain your fund separately, get your own account, because if this fundraiser happens, people are going to be giving money to all three of you and I think that's a bad idea. Second, everyone is talking as though you are all going to move in together--PLEASE tell me you are not going to live with him again. (Duncan shook his head violently at that point.) I said I'd been thinking about this--the fire started in his room, right? A "faulty space heater"? Unless the thing spontaneously burst into flames and immediately incinerated his room, he is to blame. Space heaters are notoriously top heavy and dangerous, which is why many leases prohibit them. But it's not like they're an open flame--if they're knocked over you have at least 30 seconds to pick them up. So somehow he wasn't paying attention to the heater. Either he was out of the room (D said he was naked when the EMTs came--the mind reels but he may have been in the shower) or he was incapacitated. And somehow it was knocked over and started a horrific fire that destroyed most of their belongings, rendered them homeless and killed their cat.
Yep, that's right. He fucking murdered an animal. Why? Because he's an epic fuckup. And yet in all this time he hasn't give out his story of what happened, hasn't taken responsibility, hasn't said ANYTHING to the roommates whose home he destroyed. (I know he hasn't said anything to D & K because I asked D.)
And he's had all this money given to him, money that very generous and thoughtful people have given him, and I promise you he will fuck that up. He will forget that he owes all the huge medical bills and will blow the money on stupid stuff. And then he'll freak out about that, and then even more when the landlord sues him, as he will almost certainly do when he finds out A has all this money. So he'll be sued by the hospital, sued by the landlord and probably declare bankruptcy in a year or two.
And even worse--K, the third roommate, received overall (after one month) some $3800. Do you know how much A got in his Go Fund Me? The last time I checked nearly $18,000. Eighteen fucking thousand dollars for the fuck up who was stupid enough to leave a space heater unattended and who killed a cat and destroyed his roommates' lives. If he had an ounce, one goddam ounce, of human decency he would give some of that money to Kim. I just feel sick about the whole thing.
For the record I gave money to both K and D (equal amounts actually) but nothing for A.
So I'm heading a class on Wednesdays--last fall I was the assistant for this class, now I'm heading it. It's a class with a lot of challenges. 1) The space is small and weirdly-shaped. 2) The age is disparity is huge--we have several 3 year olds, a few 4 year olds and several 5 year olds, including one big boy who is nearly 6. Big Boy is named Vicente and we had him last fall--he likes to KICK, which is a problem when you have several 3 year olds toddling around, barely able to connect their foot to the ball with any consistency. So I've been trying to figure out appropriate, fun lessons that are more than just daycare, that actually teach soccer, but that won't either: knock down the babies or: bore the older ones. To make it more challenging, two of the girls just DO NOT WANT to engage. One is 3 and she basically just doesn't want to do it. (And it looks as though she's not coming back--she's a sweet kid but this is for the best.) The other is 5 and she's more frustrating. Because she doesn't just not want to engage. What she really wants is for us to make a fuss over her. I've told her if she doesn't want to play, she can watch from the sidelines, but she doesn't just withdraw--she crawls all over the floor, she sticks her legs out, she does everything she can to pull the attention onto her and away from either the lesson or the game. And if I had just one more coach, we could indulge her drama queen antics. But we don't--there are only two of us leading this class. I've tried talking to her, trying to convince her, trying to sell her on the game but she just doesn't want to be there. Two weeks ago the class literally STOPPED--we'd started the Big Game and she kept wandering through it, dragging on our hands. Wouldn't sit down, wouldn't play. Very, very frustrating. But last week's class and today's actually went very well. I talked to my assistant and put him in charge of her--I said we're not going to fuss over her too much as long as she's out of the way. She didn't like that too much, as we weren't fawning over her, but the other kids in the class had a good time and they learned about (last week) Offense v. Defense and (this week) Passing.
So I had a long talk with the after school coordinator today saying I didn't think little girl should be in the class as it wasn't fair to the rest of the kids. She agreed. Who knows what will happen but the last two classes really have gone well, and I feel good about them.
Now, for recent news...
A month ago, pretty much everyone who reads this blog knows what happened: the apartment where D***** lived was completely devastated by fire. We all found out via FB, and D***** posted that it had started in A*****'s room. For those who aren;t aware, I know A*****. A***** was the director of the Scottish Play in 2010/11--he asked me to be on his team "in any capacity you like." I said sure, I'd like to be dramaturg. He then asked if I would also be assistant director. And he proceeded to fuck up the entire production to the point where he got FIRED. And then begged me not to accept the job if it was offered to me. Another A story--he wanted to read for the Nurse when Jason and I were casting Romeo and Juliet. I allowed him to read but there was no way in holy hell I was going to take away that great role from a woman and give it to a man. (He actually wasn't bad but the concept itself is so effing campy and cringe-inducing.) After the audition he said he wanted to work on the production anyway, and asked to design costumes. Thereafter, for about a week, followed a shitton of emails from him. Like, 405 emails a day about costumes. I kept saying "please keep it simple, this is outdoor drama in the park." And then I got this stupid dramatic email from him saying he had to drop out, he couldn't do costumes, he was going to have to move back to Baltimore. Then the kicker--unless I could lend him [I can't remember the exact figure but it was well over $1000--I think it was over $2000, in fact] so he could avoid eviction. I was so disgusted. I mean, really, absolutely disgusted. How completely classless, to put me on the spot like that. I wasn't a good friend, I wasn't family, I hardly knew him. GROSS.
So I have no great opinion of A*****. Everything seems to overwhelm him, he's always so aggrieved and beset and there's always some basic living skill he can't seem to accomplish. Working on Macbeth was annoying as hell--he tried to pick my brain for ideas, "how would you direct this scene? This bit?"" Fucking do your own work, A*****! YOU'RE the director, come up with your own ideas! Stop trying to mine mine, I might get the chance to direct it myself someday. As it was he lifted the entire concept of his show from the BAM production. Classy.
So when D***** said the fire had started in A's room, my hackles rose. Then someone started a Go Fund Me for A, because he'd incurred injuries fighting the fire--and of course, of course, OF FUCKING COURSE he did not have insurance, even though he was required by law. (Apparently he's lost his job--yes, that does suck but there are affordable options now. The ACA is specifically addressing that. There are solutions--even if they're expensive, it's a hell of a lot more expensive to go to the hospital without insurance.) And the language on the Go Fund Me was weird--it vaguely blamed "a faulty space heater." Then later that day (or the next day), similar Go Fund Mes were set up for D and the third roommate, K**. D's took off right away, and even surpassed A's. By the end of Thursday (the day after the fire) both were up to nearly $7,000 and people were planning a joint fundraiser for the three of them.
Thursday night I met D at Marie's. After quite a few drinks I pulled him into the staircase and spoke plainly to him. I said first--DO NOT commingle your funds with his. Maintain your fund separately, get your own account, because if this fundraiser happens, people are going to be giving money to all three of you and I think that's a bad idea. Second, everyone is talking as though you are all going to move in together--PLEASE tell me you are not going to live with him again. (Duncan shook his head violently at that point.) I said I'd been thinking about this--the fire started in his room, right? A "faulty space heater"? Unless the thing spontaneously burst into flames and immediately incinerated his room, he is to blame. Space heaters are notoriously top heavy and dangerous, which is why many leases prohibit them. But it's not like they're an open flame--if they're knocked over you have at least 30 seconds to pick them up. So somehow he wasn't paying attention to the heater. Either he was out of the room (D said he was naked when the EMTs came--the mind reels but he may have been in the shower) or he was incapacitated. And somehow it was knocked over and started a horrific fire that destroyed most of their belongings, rendered them homeless and killed their cat.
Yep, that's right. He fucking murdered an animal. Why? Because he's an epic fuckup. And yet in all this time he hasn't give out his story of what happened, hasn't taken responsibility, hasn't said ANYTHING to the roommates whose home he destroyed. (I know he hasn't said anything to D & K because I asked D.)
And he's had all this money given to him, money that very generous and thoughtful people have given him, and I promise you he will fuck that up. He will forget that he owes all the huge medical bills and will blow the money on stupid stuff. And then he'll freak out about that, and then even more when the landlord sues him, as he will almost certainly do when he finds out A has all this money. So he'll be sued by the hospital, sued by the landlord and probably declare bankruptcy in a year or two.
And even worse--K, the third roommate, received overall (after one month) some $3800. Do you know how much A got in his Go Fund Me? The last time I checked nearly $18,000. Eighteen fucking thousand dollars for the fuck up who was stupid enough to leave a space heater unattended and who killed a cat and destroyed his roommates' lives. If he had an ounce, one goddam ounce, of human decency he would give some of that money to Kim. I just feel sick about the whole thing.
For the record I gave money to both K and D (equal amounts actually) but nothing for A.
