You've Got Me On My Knees, Layla

The latest update on The Misadventures of Legalizing Layla:

Not working out. It's finally boiled down to the fact that I have to contact the Court of Common Please in Columbus about getting the title for my scooter. Uck with a side of uck. I did, however, discover that Ohio has updated it's title FAQ website, including information for people who have bought a motor vehicle from an individual in state/ out of state and were not provided a title. That's me. I guess I'll call the number and listen to whatever run-around their passing out.

In the meantime, it's back to Craig's List, this time searching for a buyer.

The latest update on The Misadventures of Classes at College:

Things seem more adventurous than unadventurous at this point, which is good. I got the job at the Scene Shop on campus making scenery for the myriad of theatrical productions. It's a sweet job: the hours aren't bad, the people are nice and I get to use pneumatic staple guns that "could easily pierce bone." That job simultaneously makes me want to build something and gives me the opportunity to build things. It's a self perpetuating machine, pure synergy. Also, I get to wear a hardhat, which can make anyone feel surprisingly important while standing in line at the water fountain.

Here's a view from the gallery at the Scene Shop. Don't tell anyone, I'm not supposed to be carrying my cell phone around, but the only personal storage space I have are my pockets. I was trying to get a feel for the scale by shooting the railing, but it didn't work. Those panels on the right are around 15 feet long, the gray platform is probably 20. Monica and I screwed the gray platform to the deck and then flipped the skinny platform to the left over top to create a step up. We only had to do it 3 times to get it right.

On the far wall is the Rail System. Those white ropes are attached to rails that run stage right to stage left and are suspended in the air, even higher up than the gallery. We can attach all kinds of scenery (or anything else) to the rails and raise and lower them into or out of view. There are numbered 1 to 37, 37 downstage closest to the audience, 1 furthest upstage. We have to know where the rail are because when someone lowers them you have to get out of the way. There's a call and response system. Whenever someone drops a rail they call out the number so people know which way to dodge, and everyone in the shop responds so the rail operator knows that the message was received. I'll just go ahead and say it: I have high aspirations of one day being tapped as Rail Operator.

The rest of the shop is about as big as the stage area pictured, but back behind the camera and behind a giant fire door that slams closed (and I suspect would kill anyone underneath it) in case a fire breaks out on stage. There's also a giant asbestos curtain that falls off frame right, at the end of the stage, in order to protect the largest number of people (for the theater department's sake, let's hope the audience) from the fire. Of course that curtain was installed a while ago. Chances are that the giant asbestos cloud that falling curtain would let off would probably kill the first 10 rows. Admittedly, though, not nearly as quickly or painfully as a fire.

If you're the kind of person who enjoys surviving potentially dangerous situations twice a week, is this a job for you.

I'm starting to realize I am that type of person.