Oregon Ballet Theatre Needs Your Help!

SUPPORT OREGON BALLET THEATRE AND KEEP THE ARTS THRIVING IN PORTLAND!

Oregon Ballet Theatre needs to raise $750,000 by June 30 or there's a real possibility that this nationally-acclaimed arts organization will have to shut its doors.

Whether you're a fan of ballet, a supporter of the arts, or a Portland resident, you know how important it is to keep the city's arts and culture alive and thriving. Portland can't afford to lose this institution. The loss would be devastating for the city, even for those who have no interest in ballet. Now is the time to help. There are so many things, both big and small, you can do.

DANCE UNITED Benefit Performance in Support of OBT



1) If you can, write a check or use your credit card to make a contribution. Click here to donate.

2) Buy tickets to the season finale program: RUSH + ROBBINS, featuring Christopher Wheeldon's RUSH and three ballets by American dance icon Jerome Robbins. June 5 - 7 at Keller Auditorium. Call 503.2.BALLET or go online.

3) Buy tickets for DANCE UNITED: A Benefit Performance for Oregon Ballet Theatre, featuring performances by leading dancers from North America's most prestigious dance companies including New York City Ballet, Boston Ballet, San Francisco Ballet, The Joffrey Ballet, The National Ballet of Canada and many more! One night only - June 12 at 7:30pm. Program details here.
Call 503.2.BALLET or buy online.

4) OBT is organizing an online auction to help raise money. Maybe you have something to donate, or maybe you're in the market to buy.

5) Share the message with your friends, family, or coworkers. Tweet for OBT, donate your Facebook Status, post a MySpace Bulletin or write about us on your Blog! Let everyone know OBT is important to you!

For more reading about the company and the dilemma it currently faces, please check out the links below:

OBT's WEBSITE

THE OREGONIAN ARTICLE 5/28/09

OBT PRESS RELEASE 5/27/09

can i have a re-do?

recently, i've noticed more and more people asking me about my name. now, becca is a common name, as is rebecca. but i stopped going by rebecca when i was young. it was long, and combined with my last name, sometimes didn't fit on the 17 little spaces they gave you for exams and such. my dad used to always call me rebecca when i was in trouble, with this deep sounding voice and all- for instance he'd call me on the phone in college, and if he started off with "rebecca aline h...," i knew to say "oops! i'm just on my way to a study group/major exam/work/co-ed naked orgy in the arboretum!" plus, there was another rebecca in my pre-school class, so becca was a way of distinguishing me from her (apart from her strange love of cows and all things chanel). for me, it just worked.

until recently. like when i went for job interviews earlier this year, and my name became a topic of conversation. "is your name really rebecca?" "um. legally, yes. " "so why don't you go by it? are you ashamed of it?" "um. not really. i identify with becca more." "why don't you identify with rebecca?" "gee, sir. i don't know. why don't you identify with mr. shithead more?"

sadly, that response didn't win me any new career opportunities.

last week at the hospital, the nurse asked me why my first name was different on my health card than on the sign-in sheet. "it is?" i said. and he pointed to "rebecca" and said "yes." um. ok, dude. did you say this to mike when his card said michael?

this weekend, after the hawaii fluke that won't be (at least not for awhile), i made plans for our trip to los angeles next weekend. frontier was great and will accomodate my leg of lead. the hotels, though. well, one guy questions where "re" was staying. um, whahaat? yeah, he wanted to know if re h. was staying at a different hotel than becca h. dude, not funny. but i laughed anyway, hoping to not turn up at the hotel at 10pm at night to find out the only room left is a tiny janitor's closet with a cot in the back of the connecting 24-hour diner that only serves meatloaf, bison burgers, and oatmeal.

but the trials and tribulations of a girl called becca doesn't end there. i called the massachusetts dept. of education last week, and of course, with the 3 hour time difference, i got voicemail. i left a message and waited. and waited. and waited. but no return call. with my spill, i sort of forgot about it. until this morning.

someone at work sends out a company-wide email, saying he got a voicemail from the doe in mass, and if anyone at the company is named beckle, to let him know so he could forward the message. well, his number and mine only vary by one digit, and they're right next to each other, so i respond, and low and behold, the message is for me. so now all 500+ employees can refer to me as re-beckle. wonder if it'll fit on my business cards.

hi, heya, hello, hola.

hi, julia!

48 hours

after being interrogated repeatedly by the california employment office (both in-person and on the phone), applying to a multitude of jobs, and selling my soul on craigslist, i got a job! i'll be working for an educational research and development company here in san francisco, and i start wednesday. this leaves me 2 days to finish up my slumming and bumming.

things to do with my last 48 hours of freedom:

mission: charge the mp3 player. now that i have a two-bus commute twice a day, i'll need my tunes more than ever. who knows who could sit next to me?
revised mission: bring the music to all the people. purchase large boom box. practice carrying around on shoulder with nelly blasting loudly. or the dixie chicks. remember to safety pin slumping pants to underwear.

mission: camp out under the stars. although this would require a sleeping bag. and a camp. and some stars (thanks to our foggy june).
revised mission: remember that you've never been camping. check out stars at perezhilton.com instead.

mission: learn to ride a bike. any kind. even with training wheels.
revised mission: after recalling dreadful superman incident from 16 years ago, get self cape and tall red boots. go see superman instead. or watch justice league. then rethink bike school.

do you know the way to santa fe?

last week, while walking through the tenderloin, i got the best psuedo-job proposal in, well, months. there was sun out, and i'm sure at least one plainclothes cop in the area, so i figured i could walk from van ness to leavenworth unharmed. i get about 2 blocks into my 4 block walk, and this plaid/baggy pants man comes out of nowhere and starts walking. with me. at my pace (slow but getting faster. much faster.).

man: hey, girl! whatcha up to? got a job?
becca: um... (honestly, no, but neither does anyone else in this area of town. at least not a legal one that's reported to the irs.)
man: want to come with me on a trip? i've got a band and some instruments and a van, and we're going to new mexico next month for some gigs. we could use a girl like you. whaddaya say?

now what about me screams homeless rock band director/tour masseuse and sexual fantasy coordinator? was it the relaxed fit, bootcut khakis? or perhaps the book in hand that had lots of 4-syllable words and no pictures? note to self:
1) make effort to blend in with the locals. schedule trip to madame s.'s.
2) check out things to do in santa fe.

how not to interview someone

over the past 6 years, i've gone on countless interviews. some were calm and boring, while others the complete opposite. here's my top list of things not to do when interviewing a candidate:

1. don't continue to look at my resume when you can't remember my name. yes, sometimes 5 little letters can be tricky. if need be, stencil my name on my forehead beforehand. i won't notice it, but you sure will.
2. don't allow the security guard to interview me first. otherwise, he might just hire me without your consent.
3. don't curse every f^cking fourth word when f^cking interviewing me. for some f^cking odd reason, it just f^cking puts me off.
4. when giving a tour, do not include the secret room where you keep the superman costume and telephone booth. however, do introduce me to clark kent.
5. don't mention you've somehow managed to run through 4 temps in 5 months. your business might be stable, but i may question your mental stability.
6. don't ask me to handwrite my employment information onto your own application. really, you're asking for trouble. this is the girl who never officially graduated from handwriting class in 5th grade and was forced to use pencil for the remainder of the year. but if you really want me to scribble my job history for you, at least leave enough room. a 1/2"x1/2" box isn't big enough to detail my underwear preference, much less my job title, responsibilities, and achievements.
7. if you're a placement agency, and you have no positions that i might be remotely eligible for, yet you encourage me to come in for an exciting interview that could change my future, be prepared to receive a dry cleaning bill within the week. remember, every trip on muni presents a 50/50 chance of me ruining my one and only suit. and i really. like. my. suit.
8. i don't want to sell insurance. or newspapers. or children from peru. or be an enterprise rent-a-car store manager. so stop spamming me.
9. and if you really like me, don't go searching for my blog. and if you find it, keep it on the down low. and if you want to live a long, healthy, organic life, don't tell my references about it.

new daily schedule

6AM: wake up to sounds of cat howling. damn sun. put cat under arm, spoon, sleep, drool. repeat every 5 minutes.
7:12AM: groggily walk to kitchen. throw can opener and can of cat food at cat. fall fast asleep on hallway rug.
7:16AM: wake up to shrimp and lobster-scented face bath. enjoy exfoliation, but recognize that this is. not. normal. rinse skin and hop back in bed.
7:31AM: kqed officially announces it's time to wake up. for todd, that is. steal his pillow and return to dream state.
7:55AM: toes are not a second meal for furballs. roll counterclockwise out of bed. refill cat water (with brita, of course). rinse toes.
8:00AM: normal morning routine: brush teeth, wash face, apply 4-inch fake eyelashes, check-in with personal assistant (i.e. whatever i wrote on back of hand yesterday), breakfast, email, perezhilton.com, fantasy baseball.
9:00AM: Dawson's Creek
10:00AM: some kind of housework (vacuuming, ironing, pillow fluffing, spider smushing)
11:12AM: bodywork: gym, PT, yoga dvd, crunches, stretching, pedicure, scrubbing notes off hand, temporary tattoos
12:28PM: lunch (mac & cheese, potato & green chile burrito, toast, salad, grapes, chocolate chips and wheat thins)
1:30PM: job searching. check all sites (craigslist, opportunityknocks, ynpn, idealist, hotjobs, careerbuilder, chronicle of philanthropy, northern california grantmakers, foundation center, sfgate, monster, oakland a's, poledancersrus, etc.) at least three times.
4:00PM: wow. the cat used a can opener. try to teach cat new tricks, like smushing spiders or fetching cheese. fail at spider task. guess they don't taste good. run out of cheese. cat posts ad on craigslist for new owner, preferably one who works at cowgirl creamery. receives 28 responses in 7 minutes.
4:12PM: phone rings! yes, they want to hire me! no, they want me to give them money. pout and stomp feet.
4:15PM: think about dinner and what i can make with broccoli, strawberries, flour tortillas, quinoa, and hummus.
5:00PM: call Rotee.
5:45PM: todd arrives home. confirm i got lots accomplished. hurridly place paneer tikka masala in front of his nose before he asks more questions.
7:00PM: vow to go to grocery tomorrow. and make go kit. and search and apply for more jobs. and visit laundraumat. and get cheese.

i got panned

i hopped in a cab the other day and the bellman who flagged the cab told the cabbie i was going to the panhandle. after i get all situated- yes, one must wear a seatbelt at all times unless on muni-, i gave the driver my cross-street, and all seemed well. until this (and yes, this is the acutal conversation. and i'm still very, very confused.):



cabbie (in a heavy accent): so what is the panhandle?
becca: you mean what is the area? or why is it called the panhandle?
cabbie: yes.
becca: um... so why it's called the panhandle?
cabbie: yes, what is it?
becca: it's the long strip of green that shoots out eastward from golden gate park. like the handle of a pan.
cabbie: no, what is it?
becca: the green part. it's grass. replanted by parks and rec. every so often. also a nice plushy home for bums and hobos and pit bulls.
cabbie: no, what is it?
becca: ah, the area around the panhandle? it's the neighborhood pretty much north of the haight, bordered by oak, stanyan, grove, and baker. it's sort of a netherworld, so it's been dubbed the panhandle. we're not the haight or the richmond or western addition. someone in the maps and planning dept forgot about us way back when.
cabbie (really frustrated. accent gets stronger. becca looks furiously at phone, just hoping it will ring, buzz, break, etc. perhaps door will accidentally fling open, and she'll be flown free of this experience.): no. what. is. it?
becca: a piece of long green park and also the neighborhood around it. like a saucepan. it's the saucepan's handle. therefore, we can happily deduce that it's the pan's handle, or more casually referred to as the panhandle. get it? huh?
cabbie: got it! thanks for being so patient with me. english isn't my first language (really?). why were you downtown?
becca: job interview.
cabbie: really? what do you want to be?
becca: dunno. i was thinking exotic dancer, but my knees just aren't up to snuff.
cabbie: i've been looking for a job. i want to be a paralegal, but for some reason, nobody will call me back. what do you think the problem is?
becca: umm. well, obviously it's not your inabilty to express youself through prose or words. how's your resume?
cabbie: my what? i don't have that yet. i'm still waiting to graduate. but i keep submitting my interview, and nobody has requested me.

new hobbies for me, pt. 2

now that i have random spurts of free time, i.e. not sitting on my butt waiting for someone to tell me that she brought her sleeping bag to work, spent the entire weekend "looking ahead," and peetered away her sunday completing 6 of MY 10 projects for the week while using the yellow stairs as her own private stairmaster, i'm finding myself slightly bored and unfocused. here are several ways for me to get back on track:

1. move furniture around. suggested layout: fridge to living room, bed to living room, computer to living room, wine rack to living room. record macro for later use.

2. after intro classes at mission cliffs, feel like spider-woman. return home, throw on yellow rubber spider-like gloves, strap on window cleaner and scrubbie, and cling to fire escape in attempt to wash windows from the outside. hope that tobey maguire is nearby, just in case.

3. reorganize fridge contents by type. or color. or weight. somehow, decrease access to the cheese while promoting leafy greans, apples, and ketchup. call in to npr's cartalk, asking where the chocolate belongs (sure, it's not a car question, but those dudes are just too funny!).

4. create trip planner that actually works. and is woman-friendly. factor in hills, 6th/7th streets and Market, puppy sightings, martini bars, and hot straight men. patent and sell to muni for a bundle of money. oh, and name it wo-muni.

new hobbies for me, pt.1

so now that i'm sitting at my computer at work and not doing much else except nodding my head, applying to jobs, and scratching my a$$, i figure i need some new hobbies. for example, today i can:

1) make a map of all SF ben and jerry's for your free cone-nibbling pleasure, complete with satellite images of length of lines and size of scoopage report. note that the haight-ashbury shop is being very generous.

2) listen to the weekly potter-cast compliments of mugglenet.

3) read danny haren's blog. he loves lost. what could be better?

4) research individual health plans. determine, in the event of an emergency or freak cookie-baking incident, who is likely to screw up the least. apply.

5) rearrange all my files so my soon-to-be ex-boss can't find anything. at all. except haight street lunch menus and avery 5160 labels.

a confession of sorts

yes, i confess, my blog has been virtually non-existant lately. after being let go from my job, yet being kept on for another 4 weeks in order to gain some additional pay (as apparently severance wasn't on their to-do list) and finish up some "projects," i haven't been in a blogging mood. so i cooked. or baked. or slept. or watched the amazing return of alias and michael vartan *sigh*. or a's games. or yelled at comcast when we didn't get the a's games. or stalked our down-the-street neighbor's small puppy, appropriately named tofu. but i promise you, the old becca you know and love (or don't) will be back soon.

things to do before i change jobs

1. get fingerprinted and background checked by the doj and fbi - most likely will pass.
2. color-code emails by received day of the week.(joke)
3. take home my massive hoard of work shoes from the corner of my office, but leave one pair for rest of week.
4. visit shoe pavilion to add to dwindling shoe pile in said office. (semi-joke)
5. navigate the tenderloin and gorge on indian food at shalimar. mmm. paneer masala.
6. refile everything in reverse alphabetical order. (totally a joke. jen would kill me.)
7. go to gym 5 times a day for the rest of the week to get the most out of my membership that doesn't expire until the end of the month. while at it, steal towels and robes & pilfer lots of the free samples from the front desk (tea, lotion, gnc discount cards, etc.). on second thought, don't pilfer or steal. it might come up on background check. but contemplate deeply.
8. traipse through all of the union square area shops and acknowledge how much money i'll save by working in the haight. or revel in the thought of full-fledged shopping trips.
9. let my coworkers know that i'll miss them.