Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Tag: facebook (Page 1 of 3)

I heart Facebook

Every time one of my Facebook friends threatens to leave Facebook forever, or does leave, or goes on a holiday from Facebook, or announces why it is so terrible and should be banned, or suggests that it is worse for people than sugar is for ADHD kids, I suffer little shivers of shame at my totally guilty pleasure.

See, I love Facebok, Vleisboek, Facebum, Visagetome. In spite of the terrible spelling and grammar in the “lose 50kgs in half an hour” ads, the “Hi I am Mike and I am around the corner and I think we should meet”, those hideous new homemade damn comics (that might just have become passe, I am hoping), the trashy quotes on tie-dye backgrounds. I love Facebook in spite of my few emo friends, in spite of food photos, in spite of endless theatre campaigns to raise money to make this or send that, with their false promises that somehow you will benefit from giving them your money. In spite of the pictures of cruelty to animals, that freak me out for days. In spite of the endless stream of causes that need me to push a button, install an app, allow facebum to get all my info etc, etc. In spite of the fact that it always the person you least want to ‘chat’ with who starts up that typed conversation.

I love Facebook because it gives me access to and insight into friends’ lives, hearts and humor. It is a special way of connecting, ‘sharing’, networking, messaging and recoginising. It is a powerful (sometimes frighteningly so) and speedy way of getting info out there, particularly news about people’s successes, deaths, shared concerns and traditions and celebrations. We connect through word, thought, images, ideas and humour. I especially love seeing my friends animals and children, and even the veggies that they are growing.

I love sharing my stuff on Facebook. I love seeing who ‘gets’ what. I love the surprise of a random status update that suddenly gets attention. I love reading what other people suggest, and link to. I love posting my thoughts and links to my blog and getting responses from friends and connections.

Yes, Facebook is a distraction. Yes, Facebook is an ‘easy way out’ when wishing people a Happy  birthday/birth/Xmas/holiday/year, but so what? So, Facebook friends, I am not going anywhere. I see, like and share you.

Putting the fest to bed

I wanted to write a general post with little bits and pieces, stories and skinner, before I forgot them and got straight back into real life.

I loved being at the fest this year. It was my first time ever that I went as an observer/writer/blogger, as opposed to performer or director, and the shift in stress levels was remarkable! My only wistfulness was that I had to drink all the wine at Bushman’s where I was staying, instead of in G’town, because I couldn’t drive drunk! I am also fired up about bringing work to the fest next year, which is a good sign.

Reasons (other than good shows) I loved the festival this year: I loved Garvey’s coffee at The Monument. I drove the 60 odd k’s in the morning for a macchiato in a real cup. More expensive than most of the meals I ate, but completely spectacular. I brought a bag of his coffee back for Big Friendly. I loved The Art Lounge and the cutey Argentinian boys who made great masala chai, gluwein, veg pies. It was bladdy cold hanging out there, but it was delicious. I loved Fusion (I think) at Cape Town Edge. Mark remembers everyone, and he makes us feel special. It’s also the best food, and jauling, at the fest. I loved being invited to perform at improv comedy at Cape Town Edge, as a fundraiser. I loved hanging with my little sisters and shooting the breeze, slagging off bad shows. Fiona (Shorty’s daughter) du Plooy and Candice (oh my word) D’Arcy are fantastic fest friends. I loved disagreeing with Simon Cooper about virtually every show we saw. I loved evening replays of some of the funny moments with Helen, Mike R, Anthony and Simon. I loved getting hopelessly lost and having Simon and Mike give up the best parking place to find me. I loved weeing with laughter at The Spur with Ntombi, Thembani and Connie. I loved banging into Strato, a Gtown local and friend, and catching up. I loved my chats to Toby and her sister about everything they had seen, and getting feedback on stuff I recommended. I loved Jon Keevy but didn’t see him enough. I loved free wi-fi at The Monument and at The Spur. I loved writing and posting reviews. I loved my media badge and bag, and all the comps I got, and the fantastic Cilnette in the media office. I loved being media (thanks Steve) and having more than my own blog to share my loud and opinionated voice with.

I hated the cold. I hated missing shows completely because of no electricity. I hated those moments where I realised I wasn’t going to see everything I was asked to see, and I saw the look I obviously gave every year to everyone, right back at me. I promise I’ll never do it again. I hated being so far away and leaving the passing of precious Bayla in the hands of Big Friendly. I hated that I was traveling home on my godson’s birthday! I hated that one or two rubbish shows got ‘ovations’ and accolades. I hated some CUE reviews. I hated what happened to the posters in the rain. I hated being manipulated into giving parking money by everyone who saw me leaving a parking spot even though I had found it all by myself.

I loved facebook and twitter and BBM for hooking me up, keeping me in touch and allowing me the occasional vent. It was a good one.

Multitasking

My boet always complains that his wife and his sister are the only two women in the world who can’t multitask. I can’t speak for my gorgeous, talented and amazing sister-in-law, but it really is true for me. I need to do things one at a time. I can’t even be on my laptop (or phone) in a random way and have a conversation with Big Friendly. It makes him mental. I can be mid-sentence and my phone (or the stove, or the door, or the TV) will ping, and instantly I will be distracted and lose my train of thought. I even find it hard to work on different projects at the same time. One seems to occupy all the ‘project’ space in my brain, and I struggle to keep thoughts of the other stuff on board. It’s as if they get squeezed and jostled by the big fat dominant one on duty at the time.

Also, I have been struggling with flu this week and weekend and it has meant that work wise I have been forced to do the minimum required before dragging myself back to bed. This has also meant that my writing, making little videos and all the other bits and pieces I do have lapsed a bit. So I have been on facebook and twitter, a lot. Are they not the most arbitrary, fun and useless time wasters?

One of the most amazing things about now time is how rehearsals have changed. Four out of five of my cast have Blackberrys, and whenever they are off-stage they are BBM’ing, tweeting, or facebook messaging; sometimes even to me, sitting right there in the rehearsal room. We watch videos on youtube, share jokes that are flying through the ethernet,  pass on download info and even google stuff to just make sure.

But for me it is hard. I need to to one thing, or the other. So if I get sucked in to a message on my phone I get spat out of what ever else it is I should be doing, like watching my rehearsal, or following the text. It’s almost as if I leave an energetic black hole where I was, and then have to come back to it, but time is lost. It feels like all of present tense is changing, and we are all less ‘in’ the actual moment. Well, I certainly am. I am going to have to factor in phone down time. Tomorrow.

Moira’s back

There’s new stuff for Moira to worry about today.

What’s in My Bad Mood?

I have woken up with a rage hangover this morning. I am still fuming about my night last night and I am not really sure where to even begin.

Let’s go with why I was motivated to start meganshead in the first place. I wanted to warn Capetonians about bad theatre (and cheer them on to see good stuff, it must be said). Now this one is particularly hard for me because of how I feel about The Kalk Bay Theatre. It is categorically my favourite theatre in Cape Town. It is independent, beautiful, brilliantly managed. It is where I love to see theatre and make theatre. I want the theatre to do brilliantly.

But now I need to say what I feel about the first half of the show that opened there last night, “What’s In a Name?”. And here is a warning; if you loved it, do not read further, because I am going to be saying some very harsh stuff.

Right up front, I was absolutely relieved to discover that there were two halves. This meant I could leave at interval without making a spectacle of myself. Everything I say will only be about the first hellish forty or so minutes, but I swear it is enough.

What’s In a Name is trying to be a cabaret(?) performed by Delray Burns and Roland Perold and directed by Garth Tavares, and apparently choreographed(?) by Delray. What it actually is is a completely random collection of ‘trying to be funny’ songs that have nothing to do with anything, including the meaningless title of the show. What it is trying to be is a showcase for two young performers (like a live showreel to offer what they can do), but what it becomes is a beyond irritating, badly sung, horribly characterised, cartoon version of itself. Hell on an audience, not in the least funny, and so badly done I was squirming in my love seat in the back row. Fifty Delray costume changes later (a light up bra being the only highlight, ‘scuse the pun), a hideous “lights up” audience participation section where I could not hide my disgust in the dark, a complete mafferation of two songs I usually think are quite clever, Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady and Coward’s Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage Mrs Worthington, and other tragic, inconsequential, murderously bad versions of other stuff (including Snoopy I think!), meant I had to escape.

I feel I need to explain here. I concede that there is often stuff that is “not my cup of tea”. I don’t get big, mainstream musicals. Yet, I can totally appreciate them (and have even loved one or two) when they are well done. It is true that a collection of random show tunes is not that cup of tea that I would choose to drink, but I am entirely capable of drinking it, and enjoying it, if it is just warm, sweet and well made. “What’s In a Name?” is not that cup.

I am going to lose friends here. Brand new followers of meganshead on twitter are going to be upset. Friends of the performers in the audience last night were “loving” the show, and even tweeted me about it. I am going to be branded a bitch. I am going to set myself up for the harshest criticism of my own work. I wrestled with whether I was going to do this at all. But when I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and saw what a friend had inboxed me on facebook, and realised she felt the same, I felt I had to speak out. Sies. What’s In a Name? In this case, absolutely zero, zip, niks.

Then, on my drive home (just to put salt in my wounds) I happened to flick the radio on to 567. The minute I realised it was Kieno Kammies I should have switched to 5fm for some retarded pop, but I was negotiating Boyes Drive and didn’t change in time. The moron was introducing what was going to be his late night topic; a ‘scientific’ study where caged monkeys are going to be fattened up so said scientists can study obesity. Kieno thought this was a great idea because, and I quote, “have you seen the fat kids rolling around the lawns?”. I. Kid. You. Not. Kieno Kammies thinks that caging and force feeding monkeys (natural omnivores quite capable of maintaining their own healthy weight) and fattening them up is going to help us understand why children are obese. Maybe Kieno, they are obese because they are caged, overfed (usually with unhealthy processed crap that monkeys would never eat) by their parents, bored and under-exercised? I actually could not listen to him for one second more. I had fantasies of finding images of his own children, hoping they were as fat as houses, and then using them in my own experiments. The drive home from KBT is long when you are having these murderous thoughts while listening to Rehane singing …”sticks and stones will hurt my bones, but whips and chains excite me” as if she wrote those lines herself! Bah. Humbug.

 

I ♥ facebook

Big Friendly has just written a real bitch post on his blog about how he hates facebook and how he is going to cancel or wipe out or remove his face broek profile once and for all. (It needs explaining that he has been saying this ever since he signed up, over a year ago.) At least once a month he makes these threats, and then, after ‘liking’ a few things, calling me to look at photos of friends and family and cute children/animals, he forgets about it. Then some article in the media (which I haven’t actually even read properly) will remind him why he hates face cloth, and why they are stealing his stuff, and why they can’t be trusted etc, and his fudge book rage will kick in again.

Me, I am the exact opposite. I love face poep. I love it. I know what it is; a public(ish) forum, where I can be clever/silly/indulgent, a place where I can instantly connect with two friends I dreamt about, one in LA and the other in Switzerland. I can play Scrabble, waste time reading everybody’s status, or do proper work and networking. I can advertise on face snoek. I can show off my animals and my holidays. I can ask for advice. I can advertise, for shows, and for other people’s stuff that I support or like. I can imagine I’m introducing people to my strange musical tastes and I can ‘share’ causes. I can show support by joining a group or becoming a fan of a page. That’s all it takes. I can agree or disagree with my ‘friends’ in one sentence. I can choose how I look in my faceblock (profile pic). I heart face book. I just don’t know how to make those little heart shapes in the status place. And Big Friendly has warned me against those damn applications!

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