Snowy nights and Christmas lights,
Icy windowpanes,
Make me wish that we could be
Together again.
And the windy winter avenues
Just don't seem the same,
And the Christmas carols sound like blues,
But the choir is not to blame.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.
Crowded stores, the corner Santa Claus,
Tinseled afternoons,
And the sidewalk bands play their songs
Slightly out of tune.
Down the windy winter avenues
There walks a lonely man,
And if I told you who he is,
Well I think you'd understand.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.
No, it doesn't have to be that way.
What we had should never have ended.
I'll be dropping by today.
We could easily get it together tonight.
It's only right.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Christmas: Part II. The Not So Merry Side
When someone loves you, and you love them... sometimes, it feels like fresh air. Like you never had a chance to breathe before. And sometimes, when that person you love has things bigger than them, they have to stop loving you. At that point, you can't fix it. You can't do anything to get the love back, they totally detach in a matter of hours... days... not even a week.
When that person breaks the news, the other doesn't see it coming. Which is the bad part. And they're crushed and feel like they can't breathe anymore. That's the worse part. And then they feel selfish because as much as they HATE everything the break brings... it makes sense. It has to be that way. This is not the biggest thing in their life... but it's the biggest thing in yours. So you're a mess, and they aren't.
But they have bigger things. This is tiny. So you should get over it...
Easier said than done. But, at least you understand it. Even if you never had a chance to start.
Good things last the shortest amount of time.
When that person breaks the news, the other doesn't see it coming. Which is the bad part. And they're crushed and feel like they can't breathe anymore. That's the worse part. And then they feel selfish because as much as they HATE everything the break brings... it makes sense. It has to be that way. This is not the biggest thing in their life... but it's the biggest thing in yours. So you're a mess, and they aren't.
But they have bigger things. This is tiny. So you should get over it...
Easier said than done. But, at least you understand it. Even if you never had a chance to start.
Good things last the shortest amount of time.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
All The Way Home I'll Be Warm!
"In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it 'Christmas' and went to church; the Jews called it 'Hanukkah' and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say 'Merry Christmas!' or 'Happy Hanukkah!' or (to the atheists) 'Look out for the wall!'" -- Dave Barry
Let It Snow is my favorite carol to sing. O Holy Night is my favorite all time Christmas carol. These are all good things. I'm a big fan of Christmas. We're going to spend time with the extended family next week and all will be well. I have a bit of shopping to do yet, though. Not a ton, but a little. I'll get to see some of the girls for laser tag before I leave, and that'll be fun. Fingers crossed.
It's funny how easy it is to miss someone. Especially around holiday time.
Being home is good in small doses, something Ryan and I figured out about three days ago. We went to the South Side and grabbed dinner. And he taught me that when in Pittsburgh, whatever you do "Don't go to Edna." Sarah McP helped us figure out what we wanted to do around the 'Burgh, bless her heart. She's a guru, and I love her for that. I texted him a reminder of this learned lesson as I headed into Oakland to use Hillman Library today for various graduate school and recreational uses. His response was "Amen, sister! Don't even think about it." Apparently for his senior project next fall, he's having a Ryan Show which will be awesome. Go him. Speaking of senior projects: when will Dr. Eatman get back to me on that, eh? Perhaps a well-placed reminder email is in order. If next semester doesn't kill me, I'll be graduating. Heaven help me.
Oh! P.S.! Totally in the play "Almost, Maine" and I'm super excited to say that I'm re-uniting the Team Theatre Kids duo with John to be an unhappily married couple. Head shots after I get home, that's a tid bit nerve wracking. But not as much as the insane and intense amount of work I have to do to get graduate school applications in. Yikes.
Went to Reconciliation at church on Monday night. It was the weirdest/best I've had in a while. I knew the priest was going to be sweet. First, his name is Father McCool, and second he's straight from Ireland. All good things. So I say 'here's my sins! I'm a dipshit!' and he literally said 'It's not the end of the world'. No lecture, no 'cut that out', no nothing. I like that. Too bad a lot of the time it's all 'Jesus loves you but if you don't stop you're probably going to burn'. Well, I'll just take the good, thank ya.
My mom just called and offered me free food at her Holiday Themes From Around The World office party. I had to hang print outs of the flags for every state in the USA and every territory in Canada on a Christmas Tree. Yes, you too can birth children and let them grow up to be your personal office assistants for times of good tidings and comfort and joy! :-P I'm not bitter, just annoyed that I had to tie flags to a tree for a Christmas party no one in her office was excited about. But! I got twenty bucks for having a cute face out of it (thanks mom) so I can't complaine.
Got all A's and a B+. I think I need to write Jim Moore about that B+. Because these are the last grades that go out to grad school, and it's only the second B+ in my whole major so - I'd like to see what I got on the final, etc. It'll drive me nuts otherwise, I did four extra credit assignments and worked way hard on my final project (if the morons who filmed each other impersonating Brittany Spears have an A, I'll be furious). Wait and see, I suppose.
I'm not actually saying that much here. Let's see: Graduate school, stressful but good if accomplished. Christmas, very good. Friends and love, also good. Family, good in small doses. Reading! Oh am I reading. I'm taking books galore out of the library and just devouring them. It's an addiction, but I don't think I'll be recovering anytime soon.
So, this is Christmas.
Happy happy whatever you celebrate, friends!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
You Keep The Air In My Lungs, Floating Along As A Melody Comes
T-minus one hour until my Thanksgiving break starts. It's going to be busy. I have to:
Get graduate school applications in (I just printed out about thirty different articles on writing personal statements)
Start on three assignments for classes (write a paper about Moses, write a paper about Hamlet, create a portfolio for now and five years from now so that you know where you're going with your life as far as your profession goes)
Make sure I'm solid on my acting class scene (Spoils of War, I'm playing Elise and she's almost like the character Mame if Mame was a mom and slept around)
Convince my mom to take me shopping on Black Friday to get an external hard drive because Beatrice (my laptop) is slowly and painfully dying. Recently she's taken to making a noise as though she wants to fly off of my desk and refuses to load internet pages quickly. These two things in combinations with a nasty Trojan virus and vanishing files reappearing in odd places makes me a little worrisome. Thus! External Hard Drive to back up all my important things.
Did I mention graduate school applications?
Read through the twenty-five (no joke) plays I borrowed from Dr. Eatman and find monologues to use as potential audition materials for graduate school
Read aloud the two plays UPJ theatre is performing in the spring and practice how I would play each part, since the auditions are cold readings and I want to be super prepared because it may be my last show at UPJ. Ever. Yeesh!
Spend time with my family, maybe go on a date, spend time with my friends maybe, and do laundry. That's my Thanksgiving in a nutshell.
Aaaaaaaaaaand I'm off to be a writing tutor before packing and heading homeward! Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving everybody!
Get graduate school applications in (I just printed out about thirty different articles on writing personal statements)
Start on three assignments for classes (write a paper about Moses, write a paper about Hamlet, create a portfolio for now and five years from now so that you know where you're going with your life as far as your profession goes)
Make sure I'm solid on my acting class scene (Spoils of War, I'm playing Elise and she's almost like the character Mame if Mame was a mom and slept around)
Convince my mom to take me shopping on Black Friday to get an external hard drive because Beatrice (my laptop) is slowly and painfully dying. Recently she's taken to making a noise as though she wants to fly off of my desk and refuses to load internet pages quickly. These two things in combinations with a nasty Trojan virus and vanishing files reappearing in odd places makes me a little worrisome. Thus! External Hard Drive to back up all my important things.
Did I mention graduate school applications?
Read through the twenty-five (no joke) plays I borrowed from Dr. Eatman and find monologues to use as potential audition materials for graduate school
Read aloud the two plays UPJ theatre is performing in the spring and practice how I would play each part, since the auditions are cold readings and I want to be super prepared because it may be my last show at UPJ. Ever. Yeesh!
Spend time with my family, maybe go on a date, spend time with my friends maybe, and do laundry. That's my Thanksgiving in a nutshell.
Aaaaaaaaaaand I'm off to be a writing tutor before packing and heading homeward! Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving everybody!
Friday, October 17, 2008
You Better Look At What You Got. Over Here, Hello!?
Merrily We Roll Along is quickly drawing to a close. I've learned a lot about myself and about my acting style. I still have a long way to go, though. Weekend two started yesterday. It was hard going back into it cold, I wish we had gone through it once on Wednesday when we took production photos.
In the dressing room people were talking about Tramp Stamps. Let's just say I'm not pleased that people think my three inch long, one inch wide (don't make this a 'That's what she said" moment, har har... *eye roll*) tattoo is a tramp stamp. It's a pretty derogatory term, all things considered. Yes, I did get it on my lower back. But did you ever think that it has personal meaning or sentiment to me? Or that you'd really piss me off and make me feel self-conscious when you tell me that's what my tattoo is? Because basically you're calling me a whore. Which, NEWS FLASH - I'm not.
People who read this are going to think a few different things, depending on who they are.
1. "She's self conscious because she IS a tramp."
2. "She's high and mighty."
3. "Shut up and stop complaining."
4. "I never thought of that... okay, I'm sorry. I'll think more carefully."
I really feel bad about myself, even 15 hours after the conversation. I'll get over it, I'll be proud of who I am and so on - in a few days. But for this moment: Displeased. the worst thing of all, is that these were my friends talking. Not just some random people.
I totally lost my technique for singing 'Now You Know', and the second we ran through it I recognized that. Of course, then, the whole first act I was freaking out about it. Not so much walking around going 'OH MY GOSH I'M GOING TO SUCK!' Just, running through it over and over in my mind. Right before the scene where the song comes, I walked up to Tony (who plays Charlie and is on two antibiotics as well as a steroid for a severe case of strep throat: he's not to go to classes again until Monday and was lucky the hospital let him out.).
"I'm really nervous about 'Now You Know'. I don't have it."
He looked me straight in the eye and said the nicest thing another actor has probably ever said to me, and the best advice as well.
"Don't be nervous. When you get nervous, you clench your hands and you tense up on stage, I've watched you do it. Relax.
"Now, you want to know the secret to not being nervous? I'm not nervous because I have her, and him, and her, and her..."
He pointed to our fellow cast members, the crew running around helping props get into place and costumes go on smoothly
"...And all of these people to thank for it. Because of them, we're here. You are good enough to be a principle. And you are good enough NOT to be nervous."
Holy motivational speech! I was ready to cry at that point, he was being so nice. Did I mess up the song? Eh, I've done it better but it didn't sound bad, per say. I'll re-practice today before the cast gets in, and do better tonight.
***
In other news...The Philly's won the World Series! Pretty much fantastic. Michael was there with my uncle and I'm guessing he'll have that memory for the rest of his life. I remember being able to stay up late watching games that went into extra innings.
In the dressing room people were talking about Tramp Stamps. Let's just say I'm not pleased that people think my three inch long, one inch wide (don't make this a 'That's what she said" moment, har har... *eye roll*) tattoo is a tramp stamp. It's a pretty derogatory term, all things considered. Yes, I did get it on my lower back. But did you ever think that it has personal meaning or sentiment to me? Or that you'd really piss me off and make me feel self-conscious when you tell me that's what my tattoo is? Because basically you're calling me a whore. Which, NEWS FLASH - I'm not.
People who read this are going to think a few different things, depending on who they are.
1. "She's self conscious because she IS a tramp."
2. "She's high and mighty."
3. "Shut up and stop complaining."
4. "I never thought of that... okay, I'm sorry. I'll think more carefully."
I really feel bad about myself, even 15 hours after the conversation. I'll get over it, I'll be proud of who I am and so on - in a few days. But for this moment: Displeased. the worst thing of all, is that these were my friends talking. Not just some random people.
I totally lost my technique for singing 'Now You Know', and the second we ran through it I recognized that. Of course, then, the whole first act I was freaking out about it. Not so much walking around going 'OH MY GOSH I'M GOING TO SUCK!' Just, running through it over and over in my mind. Right before the scene where the song comes, I walked up to Tony (who plays Charlie and is on two antibiotics as well as a steroid for a severe case of strep throat: he's not to go to classes again until Monday and was lucky the hospital let him out.).
"I'm really nervous about 'Now You Know'. I don't have it."
He looked me straight in the eye and said the nicest thing another actor has probably ever said to me, and the best advice as well.
"Don't be nervous. When you get nervous, you clench your hands and you tense up on stage, I've watched you do it. Relax.
"Now, you want to know the secret to not being nervous? I'm not nervous because I have her, and him, and her, and her..."
He pointed to our fellow cast members, the crew running around helping props get into place and costumes go on smoothly
"...And all of these people to thank for it. Because of them, we're here. You are good enough to be a principle. And you are good enough NOT to be nervous."
Holy motivational speech! I was ready to cry at that point, he was being so nice. Did I mess up the song? Eh, I've done it better but it didn't sound bad, per say. I'll re-practice today before the cast gets in, and do better tonight.
***
In other news...The Philly's won the World Series! Pretty much fantastic. Michael was there with my uncle and I'm guessing he'll have that memory for the rest of his life. I remember being able to stay up late watching games that went into extra innings.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Merrily We Roll Along
I wanted to let you know about a musical that the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown is putting on next month. It's a charming musical called 'Merrily We Roll Along', and the summary is below. I am playing the character Mary Flynn - a quick witted, passionate lady who wrote a best selling novel, and is friends with two young dreamers who grow to be successful (Franklin Shepard and Charles Kringas).
Tickets are only $17, and the performances are October 23rd through November 2nd! Thursdays-Saturdays at 8pm (doors open at 7:30pm), and Sundays at 2pm (doors open at 1:30pm). Here's a link for information on ordering tickets: http://www.upj.pitt.edu/11149/
A story of dreams ingeniously told backwards, Merrily We Roll Along traces the career climb of three young artists to the tune of one of Sondheim's best, brightest, and brassiest scores! Join Franklin Shepard, a one-time composer of Broadway musicals who has become a highly successful but cynical and jaded film producer, as he discovers how he became the man he is today. Includes hits such as "Not a Day Goes By," "Good Thing Going," and "The Our Time."
Again, for reference, here's the schedule:
8:00 p.m., Thursday, October 23, 2008
8:00 p.m., Friday, October 24, 2008
8:00 p.m., Saturday, October 25, 2008
2:00 p.m., Sunday, October 26, 2008
----------------------------------------------
8:00 p.m., Thursday, October 30, 2008
8:00 p.m., Friday, October 31, 2008
8:00 p.m., Saturday, November 1, 2008
2:00 p.m., Sunday, November 2, 2008
Regular $17 Discount $15 Student $10
Call (814) 269-7200 for tickets! They're selling fast!
If you have any questions, feel free to contact me. Please pass this information along to anyone who may be interested in coming to see the show!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
It's Called Letting Go of Your Illusions, And Don't Confuse Them With Dreams.
I hurt my knee the previous weekend helping out with the big Freshman Move-In university organized chaos. If I put a pre-formed, Velcro ace bandage that's black with a white medical name printed on it... it'll get better in a few days. I can walk it off. I wear it to dance for musical auditions, just to show them that I'm not really as inept as I seem (okay, maybe I am) but that I am injured. But only slightly. Nothing to worry about. I pull the awful, ugly knee brace off of my leg for the evening, though. Just in case this *is* a date. I don't think it is, though.
...
Standing outside the Student Union, I try not to look as though I picked my outfit too carefully. My makeup is only impressive enough to be striking in the right moment, not over-done. He said his friends were coming with us from his high school. He's just being nice. It's my only chance to go to the Folk Festival and Ethnic Festival that I've attended the past two years. I leave to visit out-of-town family in the morning. I realize that each time I've gone, it's been because I've recently broken up with a dear love who was causing hurt or ... who I was hurting. I remind myself not to think about it.
He pulls up, late. By this time, I've pick a fresh flower off of the bush beside me and tuck it behind my ear. My perfectly straightened hair stays in place. Open the door, get in the car... his family has a booth at the Ethnic Festival for roasted cashews covered in sweet sugar and cinnamon. He hands me a small package of them, wrapped in blue paper. They're better than candy, and I eat them quickly. I didn't realize I was hungry. We talk about family and he's more candid than I am. I don't know why he is being so charming and open, since we hated each other for a straight year. The summer made it dissipate, I think. I'm comfortable and trusting. Maybe it's a lure into a false sense of security.
He explains what Slovakian and Polish food is, with the funny names like "Halušky" and "Chrusty" for dessert. Over a plate of delicious and strange food (being Italian, I don't really know why you'd put cabbage in anything), we talk about holidays. How important family is and how few of our friends understand the connection to heritage and faith. We're not as staunch as our grandparents and not as loose as the 'reality' t.v. representations of our generation. We walk around listening to a terrible cover band, laughing and waving to friends from school, and shouting over the noise to be heard.
Down a quiet alley there is a polka band. I remember watching my "parents" in a not so recent show learning to polka to a song that played on the "radio". He mentions my knee, and not wanting to hurt it by trying to dance. But, if I really want to, he'll show me. He loves to polka. I tell him I could learn how to polka, though I really do have two left feet. His neighbors are there and soon we're going through the typical introductions. It's awkward. They think I'm his girlfriend. I briefly remember his high school friends were supposed to meet him here, but I don't really care. I'm having fun, which is surprising. I couldn't stand sitting across from him for more than five seconds in directors meetings, let alone even imagine going out with him socially. I decide not to ask where his friends are. I blush and look away when one of his neighbors mentions how cute we are as a couple. I hope I don't look as pleased as I feel in that brief moment.
Wait. I haven't though about being a couple with anyone but my ex for months and months.
The band starts. He takes me in his arms, which are much more gentle than I expect, and softly talks me through the simple three-step movements. I can't stop smiling, and subtly push myself closer to him as we dance. His arm wraps around my waist a bit tighter. I'm spinning. All i can see are the low-hanging outdoor bulbs, floating like tiny moons that glow a marigold yellow. Older couples are dancing around us, or watching us from picnic tables with reminiscent smiles. I like being the one that makes them remember. The air smells of something sweet and fried. We hold on for as long as we can after the music ends, and I'm breathless. My knee is also throbbing, but I tell myself it isn't.
I want to keep this moment for a long time.
...
Two weeks later. The ER has me on crutches, he begs me to allow him the "privilege" (oh please!) of driving me places. We decide we're "dating". I can handle "dating." I'm dating? So soon? Or maybe, as my closest friends whisper to each other, it's long over-due. It still feels too soon. But when one of the two moves on, the other should, too. Or at least attempt. I'm trying.
It's nice not to have to hop everywhere on one leg.
I get my license. He gets a supporting role but tells me that my part is better. My part is better and it doesn't matter. I get behind in school work. He has a cold. I make him dinner and bring him thermaflu tea. We have a fight. Our first fight. It won't always be the 'honeymoon' stage, right? Is it really a first fight if we did nothing but jump down each other's throats in core theatre classes for a year?
It's two am, and we fall asleep working on an acting scene. It's innocent, but I know my roommates don't think so. They assume I go over his house to have wild sex, we couldn't possibly be working on something as simple as homework. It's not like his father and brother live there, too. We fall asleep through the disagreement and things aren't even close to being resolved. What were we fighting about, anyway? I looked around, and hear a clock upstairs chiming the hour. He's in the kitchen eating Rasin Bran cereal. I sit down across from him.
"Can we talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You know I'm on your side, right? That I'm not trying to be hurtful?"
"I don't know."
In the slight pause, my heart sinks. This isn't a good idea, it's too soon. I'm not ready. I can't handle the fighting. And I am trying so hard with this one.
"Okay."
With that one word, I try to tell him everything that I want to open for discussion. And that he made my heart sink a little with those three little words that doubt my every effort and intention. I walk back to the couch, and lie down. He doesn't come back into the room for a long time.
...
Standing outside the Student Union, I try not to look as though I picked my outfit too carefully. My makeup is only impressive enough to be striking in the right moment, not over-done. He said his friends were coming with us from his high school. He's just being nice. It's my only chance to go to the Folk Festival and Ethnic Festival that I've attended the past two years. I leave to visit out-of-town family in the morning. I realize that each time I've gone, it's been because I've recently broken up with a dear love who was causing hurt or ... who I was hurting. I remind myself not to think about it.
He pulls up, late. By this time, I've pick a fresh flower off of the bush beside me and tuck it behind my ear. My perfectly straightened hair stays in place. Open the door, get in the car... his family has a booth at the Ethnic Festival for roasted cashews covered in sweet sugar and cinnamon. He hands me a small package of them, wrapped in blue paper. They're better than candy, and I eat them quickly. I didn't realize I was hungry. We talk about family and he's more candid than I am. I don't know why he is being so charming and open, since we hated each other for a straight year. The summer made it dissipate, I think. I'm comfortable and trusting. Maybe it's a lure into a false sense of security.
He explains what Slovakian and Polish food is, with the funny names like "Halušky" and "Chrusty" for dessert. Over a plate of delicious and strange food (being Italian, I don't really know why you'd put cabbage in anything), we talk about holidays. How important family is and how few of our friends understand the connection to heritage and faith. We're not as staunch as our grandparents and not as loose as the 'reality' t.v. representations of our generation. We walk around listening to a terrible cover band, laughing and waving to friends from school, and shouting over the noise to be heard.
Down a quiet alley there is a polka band. I remember watching my "parents" in a not so recent show learning to polka to a song that played on the "radio". He mentions my knee, and not wanting to hurt it by trying to dance. But, if I really want to, he'll show me. He loves to polka. I tell him I could learn how to polka, though I really do have two left feet. His neighbors are there and soon we're going through the typical introductions. It's awkward. They think I'm his girlfriend. I briefly remember his high school friends were supposed to meet him here, but I don't really care. I'm having fun, which is surprising. I couldn't stand sitting across from him for more than five seconds in directors meetings, let alone even imagine going out with him socially. I decide not to ask where his friends are. I blush and look away when one of his neighbors mentions how cute we are as a couple. I hope I don't look as pleased as I feel in that brief moment.
Wait. I haven't though about being a couple with anyone but my ex for months and months.
The band starts. He takes me in his arms, which are much more gentle than I expect, and softly talks me through the simple three-step movements. I can't stop smiling, and subtly push myself closer to him as we dance. His arm wraps around my waist a bit tighter. I'm spinning. All i can see are the low-hanging outdoor bulbs, floating like tiny moons that glow a marigold yellow. Older couples are dancing around us, or watching us from picnic tables with reminiscent smiles. I like being the one that makes them remember. The air smells of something sweet and fried. We hold on for as long as we can after the music ends, and I'm breathless. My knee is also throbbing, but I tell myself it isn't.
I want to keep this moment for a long time.
...
Two weeks later. The ER has me on crutches, he begs me to allow him the "privilege" (oh please!) of driving me places. We decide we're "dating". I can handle "dating." I'm dating? So soon? Or maybe, as my closest friends whisper to each other, it's long over-due. It still feels too soon. But when one of the two moves on, the other should, too. Or at least attempt. I'm trying.
It's nice not to have to hop everywhere on one leg.
I get my license. He gets a supporting role but tells me that my part is better. My part is better and it doesn't matter. I get behind in school work. He has a cold. I make him dinner and bring him thermaflu tea. We have a fight. Our first fight. It won't always be the 'honeymoon' stage, right? Is it really a first fight if we did nothing but jump down each other's throats in core theatre classes for a year?
It's two am, and we fall asleep working on an acting scene. It's innocent, but I know my roommates don't think so. They assume I go over his house to have wild sex, we couldn't possibly be working on something as simple as homework. It's not like his father and brother live there, too. We fall asleep through the disagreement and things aren't even close to being resolved. What were we fighting about, anyway? I looked around, and hear a clock upstairs chiming the hour. He's in the kitchen eating Rasin Bran cereal. I sit down across from him.
"Can we talk about it?"
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You know I'm on your side, right? That I'm not trying to be hurtful?"
"I don't know."
In the slight pause, my heart sinks. This isn't a good idea, it's too soon. I'm not ready. I can't handle the fighting. And I am trying so hard with this one.
"Okay."
With that one word, I try to tell him everything that I want to open for discussion. And that he made my heart sink a little with those three little words that doubt my every effort and intention. I walk back to the couch, and lie down. He doesn't come back into the room for a long time.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Drive Until You Lose the Road (or break with the ones you've followed)
The bus hits another pothole. I check my phone and see I missed a call from my grandmother. I forgot to call her in the morning, as I usually do. Oh boy. Pull off my headphones, pause the IPod, retrieve the message.
Her voice mail is the typical "Hi, I guess you're busy and you didn't call me, it's okay, don't call back..." She's worried, and disappointed. I hit 're-dial' and confirm that I didn't die in a ditch somewhere, I just ran late today. I wasn't avoiding talking to her, send love to Pop-Pop. I hang up in time to catch my stop before the driver pulls out. "Pay attention next time, lady." I almost miss my stop every day. And he tells me to pay attention three times a week.
Plugging my ear buds back into my head, I let music wash over me for the block and a half walk I take to the office. Bopping along, down the hill, across the street, taking refuge in the notes for another minute, just one more...
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman of indeterminate age. Tear-stained face, tattered slacks, a heavy sweater wrapped around her frail body, matted hair that was curly and vivacious once... She's waving at me. About a foot away from my face. Oh boy.
I take out the headphones. I know it's a mistake the second I make eye contact. My heart sinks, I should have kept walking, maybe I still can...
"Ma'am. Please, do you have three dollars and sixty cents so I can get on the bus to pick up my two children from daycare?"
Sobs wreck her body. I don't know how much it costs to take the bus, my university distributed identification card gives me free rides. Tears and children, my weaknesses. I can't say no. "It's okay," I tell her. "Here, one second..." I root through my purse, which seems to suddenly hold objects I didn't know exist, digging deeper at an awkward angle as she cries. "Did you call the daycare and tell them you're running late?" I would have forgotten to do that, if I was as upset as she was. She nods and sniffles. As I continue to fumble awkwardly with my belongings, she tells me of a rape, the loss of a baby because of it, the forty-eight stitches in her stomach...
I'm ready to cry at this point. No one deserves that kind of pain.
I find my tips from waitress-ing, and pull out a five dollar bill. "Here, this should cover it." She nods again, and takes it a little too quickly from my hand. Inside my head I hear my ex-boyfriend's voice telling me I'm naive, weak, immature. That a mature woman would have just kept walking. I ignore it, telling myself that I have done the right, compassionate thing and that makes it better.
I begin to walk away, and yet I know she saw that I had more than just five dollars on me. "Do you have two more dollars so I can buy my kids some lunch meat for dinner on the way home? They're starving, they don't get enough to eat..."
Something in me draws a line. You saw it coming, I tell myself. "I'm sorry, no. I don't."
"Please! Just two dollars!" She is pleading and her (well rehearsed?) tears reform.
I cave into the cynicism. "I'm so sorry. But good luck."
I walk away... if she needed two dollars, she had it. I gave her five, and she said the bus only cost three something. I tried to soothe my conscience with that as I put my IPod away. My mind is firing off three hundred thoughts in all different directions.
I remembered a girl at a monthly workshop for theatre I went to in high school. She gave a man fifty cents for the bus when we were walking to lunch. I asked her how she knew he wouldn't just save it and spend it on drugs. She didn't even hesitate. "That's what you trust in God for." I was floored by that response five years ago. And suddenly, those were the words resonating in my mind as I climbed my office building's stairs.
I hope that woman caught the bus without any other problems. And that the kids ate sandwiches for dinner.
Her voice mail is the typical "Hi, I guess you're busy and you didn't call me, it's okay, don't call back..." She's worried, and disappointed. I hit 're-dial' and confirm that I didn't die in a ditch somewhere, I just ran late today. I wasn't avoiding talking to her, send love to Pop-Pop. I hang up in time to catch my stop before the driver pulls out. "Pay attention next time, lady." I almost miss my stop every day. And he tells me to pay attention three times a week.
Plugging my ear buds back into my head, I let music wash over me for the block and a half walk I take to the office. Bopping along, down the hill, across the street, taking refuge in the notes for another minute, just one more...
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a woman of indeterminate age. Tear-stained face, tattered slacks, a heavy sweater wrapped around her frail body, matted hair that was curly and vivacious once... She's waving at me. About a foot away from my face. Oh boy.
I take out the headphones. I know it's a mistake the second I make eye contact. My heart sinks, I should have kept walking, maybe I still can...
"Ma'am. Please, do you have three dollars and sixty cents so I can get on the bus to pick up my two children from daycare?"
Sobs wreck her body. I don't know how much it costs to take the bus, my university distributed identification card gives me free rides. Tears and children, my weaknesses. I can't say no. "It's okay," I tell her. "Here, one second..." I root through my purse, which seems to suddenly hold objects I didn't know exist, digging deeper at an awkward angle as she cries. "Did you call the daycare and tell them you're running late?" I would have forgotten to do that, if I was as upset as she was. She nods and sniffles. As I continue to fumble awkwardly with my belongings, she tells me of a rape, the loss of a baby because of it, the forty-eight stitches in her stomach...
I'm ready to cry at this point. No one deserves that kind of pain.
I find my tips from waitress-ing, and pull out a five dollar bill. "Here, this should cover it." She nods again, and takes it a little too quickly from my hand. Inside my head I hear my ex-boyfriend's voice telling me I'm naive, weak, immature. That a mature woman would have just kept walking. I ignore it, telling myself that I have done the right, compassionate thing and that makes it better.
I begin to walk away, and yet I know she saw that I had more than just five dollars on me. "Do you have two more dollars so I can buy my kids some lunch meat for dinner on the way home? They're starving, they don't get enough to eat..."
Something in me draws a line. You saw it coming, I tell myself. "I'm sorry, no. I don't."
"Please! Just two dollars!" She is pleading and her (well rehearsed?) tears reform.
I cave into the cynicism. "I'm so sorry. But good luck."
I walk away... if she needed two dollars, she had it. I gave her five, and she said the bus only cost three something. I tried to soothe my conscience with that as I put my IPod away. My mind is firing off three hundred thoughts in all different directions.
I remembered a girl at a monthly workshop for theatre I went to in high school. She gave a man fifty cents for the bus when we were walking to lunch. I asked her how she knew he wouldn't just save it and spend it on drugs. She didn't even hesitate. "That's what you trust in God for." I was floored by that response five years ago. And suddenly, those were the words resonating in my mind as I climbed my office building's stairs.
I hope that woman caught the bus without any other problems. And that the kids ate sandwiches for dinner.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Feed Your Head
A newfound aquaintance told me about her belief in making her own happiness.
I am trying it. And so far, it's working out alright. Think positive ("Write it in purple ink!").
It's keeping me a little bit more calm, and a little bit more on the 'bright' side of things.
I can't please everyone, and I am not going to make myself crazy trying. I will be who I am, know my faults and weaknesses, but not let others force change upon me when I like (generally) who I am.
I'm feeding my head. I'm finding my soul.
I am trying it. And so far, it's working out alright. Think positive ("Write it in purple ink!").
It's keeping me a little bit more calm, and a little bit more on the 'bright' side of things.
I can't please everyone, and I am not going to make myself crazy trying. I will be who I am, know my faults and weaknesses, but not let others force change upon me when I like (generally) who I am.
I'm feeding my head. I'm finding my soul.
Friday, July 11, 2008
I'm Trying To Make It.
I am a pilgrim, a pilgrim of sorrow
Tossed in this wide world
This wide world alone
Ain’t got no hope in
This world for tomorrow
Trying to make
Heaven my home
You know sometimes,
I get a little troubled
I get a little tormented and worried, lord Jesus
By all of my so called friends,
all of my so called friends
Who just won’t, who just won’t leave me alone
But I’m gonna keep on tryin’ and keep on prayin’
That one day it’ll all be over
‘Cause Lord,
I’m trying to make it
I wanna make heaven my home
Sometimes I’m tossed
Sometimes I’m tossed and driven Lord
And just don’t know, said just don’t know
Well don’t know which way to turn
I am a pilgrim, a pilgrim of sorrow
Tossed in this wide world
This wide world alone
Ain’t got no hope in
This world for tomorrow
Trying to make
Heaven my home
Oh I heard of a city
Of a city
Called Heaven.
I'm trying to make it.
Make heaven my home.
Scriptural Reference:
"Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage." Psalm 84:5"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth." Hebrews 11:13
I think this is the most beautiful song to listen to when you just want to cry into your pillow.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
God is Love. Love is Blind. Ray Charles is Blind. Ray Charles is God.
Whatif by Shel Silverstein
Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!
I read this poem in sixth grade. And I guess I remember it because I DO that a lot. I turn everyday things into daydreams of superheroes, villains, and situational comedies that only happen in movies.
A week or two ago, I was in
I decided to be bold and… call my mom. “Institution for Clinical Research Education, this is
As I approached the stop I noticed a beautiful woman was reading the blue and white BUS STOP sign. Her skin was the color of coffee mixed with cream (name that musical reference and I’ll give you a dollar!), and her head was safely enfolded in a tan cotton scarf. The flowers on her ankle length skirt matched the scarf surprising perfection. I hung up my phone with a sharp, irritated snap after curtly telling Lorri that I had found a bus stop that was of use to me….
The rest of this post was going to be about the woman talking to me (she really did) and getting on the same bus as I had. Then I was going to say things about a group of wiggers getting on and harassing her (they really didn’t) and my standing up for her. The what-if situation I daydreamed while riding the bus back to
I’m emotionally drained in general right now. I’m happy to say that I was offered and am taking an internship with the Pittsburgh International Children’s Theatre, for the summer. And that someone who I love is talking to me again… after I thought they never would. God is good. I also reconnected with two friends who were a major support system for me a few years ago, but I fell out of touch with after I started college. That is also a good thing. These are facts that make me feel hopeful, and like this world may be getting brighter.
I’m sad to announce the breaking off of my relationship with Danny. If you want to know the long story, contact me privately. Otherwise, you’ll get the short “The distance wasn’t working out” answer. I’m not one to advertise personal pain or exploit someone else’s. I don’t want to make him the enemy. And he’s not.
I’m up and down and running in circles. But that’s alright. Life is basically screaming at me “THIS IS WHAT IT’S ABOUT! SUCK IT UP FOR THE BAD PARTS AND BE HAPPY FOR THE GOOD PARTS!”
Yooooooooooooooooooooooou should read it. :)
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
An excerpt from Smack by Melvin Burgess
LILY pages 171 - 175
You get under my skin but I
don't find it irr-i-tating
You always play to win but I
won't need reha-bil-i-tating
Oh no
I think I'm on a-nother world
with you... with you
I'm on another planet with
you... with you-oo
Another girl
Another planet
Another girl another planet
THE ONLY ONES
Everything is free. That's a secret.
The only thing that isn't free is you. You do as you're told: you sit in your seat until they say, "Stand." You stay put til they say, "Go."
Maybe that's the way you like it. It's easy. It's all there. You don't have to think about it. You don't even have to feel it.
I sometimes wonder how this planet keeps on sticking to my feet. They did everything they could to pin me down... my mum, my dad, school. They put me in homes with kind guys and they put me in homes with bastards. They did things to me you can't even talk about. I'm okay.
What about you?
It's mind control, see. You have to go to school, get those exams, get to university or college, get a job, get married, don't miss the boat, do it now or you'll shot your life down the drain. Yeah. They got you as soon as you were born. They never risked a second of your life. When you have kids they'll be telling them they have to wear a plastic mask and put a penny in the slot above their nose before they can breath in.
Listen: Auntie Lily knows the way it really is.
Air is free. What, you know that? Good for you. Okay. Food is free. Ah, you didn't know that one! Listen, this is how you do it.
First you gotta find the FreeFood shop. You go out of your front door and you walk down the road. Sooner or later you come to the FreeFood shop. You can't miss it. It might be called Sainsbury's or Tesco or Morrison's if it's a big FreeFod shop. It might be called Smith's or School's or Singh's if it's a little one. It doesn't matter what it's called. the food's piled up everywhere -- on shelves, in great heaps and stacks on the floor, in boxes and bags and bins. You want it, you name it -- it's yours.
You go inside. You have a look around and see what food you want. You put the food you want under your coat or in your shopping bag and then you take it home and eat it.
Yeah. I expect you thought that you had to go to school, get educated, learn a job, do the job, get paid, take the money down the shop, give people the money before you could take the food home, huh?
You listen to other people too much.
Once you know how to do it, you look about and you'll see FreeFood shops all over the place. The only thing you've got to worry about is that there's usually someone about who thinks the food belongs to them, so you have to make sure you're invisible.
That's easy, too. Because you can be anything you want to be. It's a big secret. You're magic! You're terrific. you're anything you wanna be. Believe it!
Liberate the food! Yeah!
If one of those people who thinks the food is theirs catches you, it's no use arguing; they're too far gone. You better leg it instead. And once in a while -- maybe your aura has got a few holes in it today -- you may get caught. Then you get the police and you go to court. If you have money, they'll fine you. If you have no money, you'll get Community Service. that's okay. It needn't happen often. I know people who've never been caught in years. All that stuff about going in and out of prison, that's just another form of mind control. But even if you do get caught, I'll tell you... Community Service is maybe forty or a hundred hours. what's the alternative? Going out to work every day for the rest of your life? I mean, what kind of sentence is that?
Sometimes I look out the window and I see all the straights crawling past, going to work, coming back from work, going to learn how to go to work, whatever. and I want to shout out, "Hey! Listen to me! It isn't like that, it really isn't like that..."
Only I never do. It's useless. They must weigh about sixty thousand tons. I'm so far away from people like that, they can't even see me.
Do you want to know more? Listen, I'll tell everything.
You can do anything you want.
You don't believe me. You think, she's out of her head. Yeah, I'm out of my head -- on being me. What are you on? On being them. You don't even know. I bet you were never even given a chance to know.
Remember when you were little and they used to say, "Naughty girl, naughty boy," because you broke something or said the wrong thing? They told you, "You are a bad person."
But it wasn't like that, it was just you were doing a bad thing. It wasn't you who was bad. You're beautiful. You're wonderful and everything that you do is wonderful because it's you doing it. You're that strong. You can do it bad and know it bad or you can do it good and know it good but it doesn't do anything to you. You're still you.
Listen. You can be anything you want to be. Be careful. It's a spell. It's magic. Listen to the words. You can be anything, you can do anything, you can be anything, you can do anything. Listen to the magic.
You are anything... everyone, anyone. Whatever you want. I'm showing you. So long as you stay yourself inside, you can eat dirt and it'll taste good because it's you that's eating it. You can even lick their arses if you have to. You listen to them, teachers, parents, politicians. They're always saying, if you steal you're a thief, if you sleep around you're a slut, if you take drugs you're a junkie. They want to get inside your head and control you with their fear.
Maybe you think your mum and dad love you but if you do the wrong things they'll try and turn you into dirt, just like mine tried to turn me into dirt. It's your punishment for being you. Don't play their game. Nothing can touch you; you stay beautiful.
I've done everything. all of it. You think, I've done it. All the things you never dared, all the things you dream about, all the things you were curious about and then forgot because you knew you never would. I did'em. I did'em yesterday while you were still in bed.
What about you? When's it gonna be your turn?
***************************************************************************************
I just finished re-reading Smack, it's a fantastic book. British punk 80's drug slum stories. I may or may not use some of that excerpt as a monologue sometime. I can't sleep right now, but maybe I won't go back to sleep.
That wasn't all a commentary on things going on with my life. Just a little bit of it.
I'm going home June 4th. Mom's happy, I think... I'm not, but things aren't about me, I guess.
Now until June 4th: Long island.
June 4th until June 23rd: Home.
June 23rd until August 11th: Working at CTY.
August 11th until August 24th-ish?: Home again.
Ready, steady, go. Go... go... go.
You get under my skin but I
don't find it irr-i-tating
You always play to win but I
won't need reha-bil-i-tating
Oh no
I think I'm on a-nother world
with you... with you
I'm on another planet with
you... with you-oo
Another girl
Another planet
Another girl another planet
THE ONLY ONES
Everything is free. That's a secret.
The only thing that isn't free is you. You do as you're told: you sit in your seat until they say, "Stand." You stay put til they say, "Go."
Maybe that's the way you like it. It's easy. It's all there. You don't have to think about it. You don't even have to feel it.
I sometimes wonder how this planet keeps on sticking to my feet. They did everything they could to pin me down... my mum, my dad, school. They put me in homes with kind guys and they put me in homes with bastards. They did things to me you can't even talk about. I'm okay.
What about you?
It's mind control, see. You have to go to school, get those exams, get to university or college, get a job, get married, don't miss the boat, do it now or you'll shot your life down the drain. Yeah. They got you as soon as you were born. They never risked a second of your life. When you have kids they'll be telling them they have to wear a plastic mask and put a penny in the slot above their nose before they can breath in.
Listen: Auntie Lily knows the way it really is.
Air is free. What, you know that? Good for you. Okay. Food is free. Ah, you didn't know that one! Listen, this is how you do it.
First you gotta find the FreeFood shop. You go out of your front door and you walk down the road. Sooner or later you come to the FreeFood shop. You can't miss it. It might be called Sainsbury's or Tesco or Morrison's if it's a big FreeFod shop. It might be called Smith's or School's or Singh's if it's a little one. It doesn't matter what it's called. the food's piled up everywhere -- on shelves, in great heaps and stacks on the floor, in boxes and bags and bins. You want it, you name it -- it's yours.
You go inside. You have a look around and see what food you want. You put the food you want under your coat or in your shopping bag and then you take it home and eat it.
Yeah. I expect you thought that you had to go to school, get educated, learn a job, do the job, get paid, take the money down the shop, give people the money before you could take the food home, huh?
You listen to other people too much.
Once you know how to do it, you look about and you'll see FreeFood shops all over the place. The only thing you've got to worry about is that there's usually someone about who thinks the food belongs to them, so you have to make sure you're invisible.
That's easy, too. Because you can be anything you want to be. It's a big secret. You're magic! You're terrific. you're anything you wanna be. Believe it!
Liberate the food! Yeah!
If one of those people who thinks the food is theirs catches you, it's no use arguing; they're too far gone. You better leg it instead. And once in a while -- maybe your aura has got a few holes in it today -- you may get caught. Then you get the police and you go to court. If you have money, they'll fine you. If you have no money, you'll get Community Service. that's okay. It needn't happen often. I know people who've never been caught in years. All that stuff about going in and out of prison, that's just another form of mind control. But even if you do get caught, I'll tell you... Community Service is maybe forty or a hundred hours. what's the alternative? Going out to work every day for the rest of your life? I mean, what kind of sentence is that?
Sometimes I look out the window and I see all the straights crawling past, going to work, coming back from work, going to learn how to go to work, whatever. and I want to shout out, "Hey! Listen to me! It isn't like that, it really isn't like that..."
Only I never do. It's useless. They must weigh about sixty thousand tons. I'm so far away from people like that, they can't even see me.
Do you want to know more? Listen, I'll tell everything.
You can do anything you want.
You don't believe me. You think, she's out of her head. Yeah, I'm out of my head -- on being me. What are you on? On being them. You don't even know. I bet you were never even given a chance to know.
Remember when you were little and they used to say, "Naughty girl, naughty boy," because you broke something or said the wrong thing? They told you, "You are a bad person."
But it wasn't like that, it was just you were doing a bad thing. It wasn't you who was bad. You're beautiful. You're wonderful and everything that you do is wonderful because it's you doing it. You're that strong. You can do it bad and know it bad or you can do it good and know it good but it doesn't do anything to you. You're still you.
Listen. You can be anything you want to be. Be careful. It's a spell. It's magic. Listen to the words. You can be anything, you can do anything, you can be anything, you can do anything. Listen to the magic.
You are anything... everyone, anyone. Whatever you want. I'm showing you. So long as you stay yourself inside, you can eat dirt and it'll taste good because it's you that's eating it. You can even lick their arses if you have to. You listen to them, teachers, parents, politicians. They're always saying, if you steal you're a thief, if you sleep around you're a slut, if you take drugs you're a junkie. They want to get inside your head and control you with their fear.
Maybe you think your mum and dad love you but if you do the wrong things they'll try and turn you into dirt, just like mine tried to turn me into dirt. It's your punishment for being you. Don't play their game. Nothing can touch you; you stay beautiful.
I've done everything. all of it. You think, I've done it. All the things you never dared, all the things you dream about, all the things you were curious about and then forgot because you knew you never would. I did'em. I did'em yesterday while you were still in bed.
What about you? When's it gonna be your turn?
***************************************************************************************
I just finished re-reading Smack, it's a fantastic book. British punk 80's drug slum stories. I may or may not use some of that excerpt as a monologue sometime. I can't sleep right now, but maybe I won't go back to sleep.
That wasn't all a commentary on things going on with my life. Just a little bit of it.
I'm going home June 4th. Mom's happy, I think... I'm not, but things aren't about me, I guess.
Now until June 4th: Long island.
June 4th until June 23rd: Home.
June 23rd until August 11th: Working at CTY.
August 11th until August 24th-ish?: Home again.
Ready, steady, go. Go... go... go.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Action Jesus
A lot has happened around here. I can't even think of where to begin. Oh! Yes I can!
Golgonooza is finished! And let me just say, PRAISE the gods of theatre. Things came together, as I knew they would - but... yeesh it was a crazy mess getting to that point. My cast was phenomenal, though.
I was asked to perform for elementary school students by Sylvan Learning Center for the second time. Curtis and I will be going tomorrow afternoon to reenact Green Eggs and Ham for hundreds of little first graders. I love doing Children's Theatre, it'll be a great time. "I will NOT eat green eggs and ham! I will not eat them Sam I am!" The eggs are from Easter and they came with Silly Putty in them that's green, all of the kids like coming up to touch it.
I went to Walmart the other night with Mike, Kate, and Ken to find the most glorious toy on the planet. For three dollars, I got a fully pose-able, cross eyed, white, English speaking, scripture quoting Jesus action figure. I'm not kidding you. I saw online that the thing sells for $19.99, but this one is taped into it's box, so I think I got one that was returned. I'm okay with that, Jesus still works. It's one of those toys given to children by the cult-Christian parents (read: Yearn For Zion Polygamy Child Abuse Very Small Branched Off Sect of Mormon's Ranch in Texas). If I was ever handed something like this as a child I would probably have ripped it's head off while at day camp (like I did with most of my Barbie's. What? As long as I put them back on before Mom or Dad picked me up, it was alright. It's not like I rip off real girl's heads now. Well, not literally).
Here is the glorious action figure/doll/salvation giver:
Yup. That right there is my Lord and Savior at his... not so finest. I don't think Jesus ever intended to be turned into plastic, shoved in a box, and have a button in the back of him to be pushed so he could spout scripture off on demand.
But what do I know?
That being the highlight of my month, I haven't much more to say.
Finals. Finals. Finals. Finals week starts soon. Then home. Then to the Center for Talented Youth hosted by an array of colleges across the country, founded by John Hopkins. I get to be an A.C./R.D. combined for these crazy child prodigies. Good times. I think I'll leave Action Jesus at home for that adventure. He's too much for me to handle some times, let alone the children.
Golgonooza is finished! And let me just say, PRAISE the gods of theatre. Things came together, as I knew they would - but... yeesh it was a crazy mess getting to that point. My cast was phenomenal, though.
I was asked to perform for elementary school students by Sylvan Learning Center for the second time. Curtis and I will be going tomorrow afternoon to reenact Green Eggs and Ham for hundreds of little first graders. I love doing Children's Theatre, it'll be a great time. "I will NOT eat green eggs and ham! I will not eat them Sam I am!" The eggs are from Easter and they came with Silly Putty in them that's green, all of the kids like coming up to touch it.
I went to Walmart the other night with Mike, Kate, and Ken to find the most glorious toy on the planet. For three dollars, I got a fully pose-able, cross eyed, white, English speaking, scripture quoting Jesus action figure. I'm not kidding you. I saw online that the thing sells for $19.99, but this one is taped into it's box, so I think I got one that was returned. I'm okay with that, Jesus still works. It's one of those toys given to children by the cult-Christian parents (read: Yearn For Zion Polygamy Child Abuse Very Small Branched Off Sect of Mormon's Ranch in Texas). If I was ever handed something like this as a child I would probably have ripped it's head off while at day camp (like I did with most of my Barbie's. What? As long as I put them back on before Mom or Dad picked me up, it was alright. It's not like I rip off real girl's heads now. Well, not literally).
Here is the glorious action figure/doll/salvation giver:
Yup. That right there is my Lord and Savior at his... not so finest. I don't think Jesus ever intended to be turned into plastic, shoved in a box, and have a button in the back of him to be pushed so he could spout scripture off on demand.
But what do I know?
That being the highlight of my month, I haven't much more to say.
Finals. Finals. Finals. Finals week starts soon. Then home. Then to the Center for Talented Youth hosted by an array of colleges across the country, founded by John Hopkins. I get to be an A.C./R.D. combined for these crazy child prodigies. Good times. I think I'll leave Action Jesus at home for that adventure. He's too much for me to handle some times, let alone the children.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
I'll Keep My Head Down And My Chin Up...
Spring break was a good time.
Back to the grind of things today. Golgonooza is soon, and I'm excited but nervous about it coming together. It always does, though. Somehow. There is so much to do, but I guess there's a certain trust that comes with being a part of any production that everyone will just do their part and you'll do yours and vola! Theatre magic makes it possible.
I still haven't heard back from any of the summer internships or apprenticeships I've applied to. The first one I put my application into is the one I'm most hoping to be accepted to. The Williamstown Theatre Festival apprenticeship for actors. Check this out:
"An apprentice’s theatrical experience is not built on performance opportunities alone. Apprentices work on a number of crews and positions throughout the summer that make the season possible, including building sets, hanging lights, assisting the marketing department, greeting audiences, and providing vital support to the many and varied needs of the Festival on a daily basis. In short, and with no understatement, apprentices are the lifeblood of the Williamstown Theatre Festival; it would be impossible to do what we do without them. Apprentices also take part in a unique classroom-learning experience, consisting of approximately two to four classes a week. Resident artists teach a wide variety of classes across many disciplines, and master classes with world-renowned visiting artists are scheduled throughout the summer. Apprentices will interact with, observe, and ultimately learn from many of the established artists who visit the Festival each season. "
I worked the hardest on that application (and on even being 'allowed' by my mom to apply). Also, it costs money to participate in the program so I created a very lengthy personal statement of financial need.
I also have an application in to North Western's National High School Institute summer program. I've applied to be an assistant faculty member for the theatre arts area of the program. It's like a pre-college thing for high schoolers who are interested in all different fields.
"The faculty of the Theatre Arts Division is composed of award-winning educators, performers, designers, directors, and choreographers from theatres and universities throughout the country. (for undergraduates interested in theatre, teaching, internship). All Faculty Associates are required to life in the dormitory and serve as dorm counselors for which they recieve room and board and stipend."
All I have to say is: HECK YES! I'd love to.
Lastly, I have an application into the Center for Talented Youth with John Hopkin's.
"At CTY you will work with an exceptional group of students, make contacts and friendships with dynamic colleagues, and gain valuable experience in a rigorous academic community. CTY has consistently been named as one of the top internships in leading publications. We have a network of past employees now working in positions ranging from heads of school to deans of students to university professors."
Again, a great opportunity for the summer.
It's just hard to wait. If I don't hear back by April 1st, I'm calling at least the first two places to see what my application's standing is.... It'd be nice to know what I'm doing with my summer, though.
Okay! I have to go call a man about a bedroom set for the stage, write sound and lighting cues, figure out my schedule for next semester, wait to hear back from three different apprenticeship/internship opportunities, get ready for Easter, start packing my room up so I don't have as much crap to take home as I did last year, aaaaaaaaand scene.
Back to the grind of things today. Golgonooza is soon, and I'm excited but nervous about it coming together. It always does, though. Somehow. There is so much to do, but I guess there's a certain trust that comes with being a part of any production that everyone will just do their part and you'll do yours and vola! Theatre magic makes it possible.
I still haven't heard back from any of the summer internships or apprenticeships I've applied to. The first one I put my application into is the one I'm most hoping to be accepted to. The Williamstown Theatre Festival apprenticeship for actors. Check this out:
"An apprentice’s theatrical experience is not built on performance opportunities alone. Apprentices work on a number of crews and positions throughout the summer that make the season possible, including building sets, hanging lights, assisting the marketing department, greeting audiences, and providing vital support to the many and varied needs of the Festival on a daily basis. In short, and with no understatement, apprentices are the lifeblood of the Williamstown Theatre Festival; it would be impossible to do what we do without them. Apprentices also take part in a unique classroom-learning experience, consisting of approximately two to four classes a week. Resident artists teach a wide variety of classes across many disciplines, and master classes with world-renowned visiting artists are scheduled throughout the summer. Apprentices will interact with, observe, and ultimately learn from many of the established artists who visit the Festival each season. "
I worked the hardest on that application (and on even being 'allowed' by my mom to apply). Also, it costs money to participate in the program so I created a very lengthy personal statement of financial need.
I also have an application in to North Western's National High School Institute summer program. I've applied to be an assistant faculty member for the theatre arts area of the program. It's like a pre-college thing for high schoolers who are interested in all different fields.
"The faculty of the Theatre Arts Division is composed of award-winning educators, performers, designers, directors, and choreographers from theatres and universities throughout the country. (for undergraduates interested in theatre, teaching, internship). All Faculty Associates are required to life in the dormitory and serve as dorm counselors for which they recieve room and board and stipend."
All I have to say is: HECK YES! I'd love to.
Lastly, I have an application into the Center for Talented Youth with John Hopkin's.
"At CTY you will work with an exceptional group of students, make contacts and friendships with dynamic colleagues, and gain valuable experience in a rigorous academic community. CTY has consistently been named as one of the top internships in leading publications. We have a network of past employees now working in positions ranging from heads of school to deans of students to university professors."
Again, a great opportunity for the summer.
It's just hard to wait. If I don't hear back by April 1st, I'm calling at least the first two places to see what my application's standing is.... It'd be nice to know what I'm doing with my summer, though.
Okay! I have to go call a man about a bedroom set for the stage, write sound and lighting cues, figure out my schedule for next semester, wait to hear back from three different apprenticeship/internship opportunities, get ready for Easter, start packing my room up so I don't have as much crap to take home as I did last year, aaaaaaaaand scene.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
What Doesn't Kill You Hurts Like Hell...But It Doesn't Kill You.
February 7 - Light Ahead
Trust and be not afraid. Life is full of wonder. Open child-trusting eyes to all I am doing for you. Fear not.
Only a few steps more and then My Power shall be seen and known. You are, yourselves, now walking in the tunnel-darkness. Soon, you yourselves shall be lights to guide feet that are afraid.
The cries of your sufferings have pierced even to the ears of God himself – My Father in Heaven, your Father in Heaven. To hear, with God, is to answer. For only a cry from the heart, a cry to Divine Power to help human weakness, a trusting cry, ever reaches the Ear Divine.
Remember, trembling heart, that with God, to hear is to answer. Your prayers, and they have been many, are answered.
"Before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear." Isaiah 65:24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
These are good things to keep in mind. I need this Lent to get my religion back on track, you could say. I guess I'm not as 'grown' as I thought. In fact, I've reverted, but that can be good, in some ways. Maybe. It all depends on how you use what you're given. And I've been given a lot, and that's really a blessing. I am still quite blind, though. I need help seeing the obvious, finding the not so obvious and ... well, that's enough vagueness for one post.
Graduate school research is terrifying. I’m waiting to hear back on a REALLY big summer opportunity. Birthday in nineteen days and then I'll be a legal beagle. Yeah, I went there. >.>
Business all around my life! I was going to type out everything that I've been up to but I changed my mind because:
1. Everyone is busy.
2. As much as it drives me crazy, I enjoy it.
3. You're supposed to do things in secret, thus making the reward greater for the soul.
Illness has been abound, too - I'm afraid. It makes me sad. If I'm still feeling awful on Monday I'll need to call the doctor. For now, I'm seeing how well I can duke it out on my own. Bring it, disease!
In other news: new roommate, she's cool. We're pretty cool. We just let each other do our own thing, and such. I feel bad she has a hacking crazy girl with her. I hope I don't cause her to get sick, that would be rude of me, not to mention a lame time had by all. Bob Marley sheet + Postcards +Pretty (not real) Flowers) + Bible Quotes = Decoration Love. Not going to lie, our room is pretty sweet. It was really cool of her to move up here instead of making me go down there. I felt bad but.... well, it's done and there doesn't seem to be hard feelings. Yay!
Come and see South Pacific. Every inch is packed with dynamite. An, um, it's Main Stage. Which is fantastic. Probably the last one Doc E. directs, actually... Hmm. Disconcerting? Maybe a little but such is life.
So that's that and that'll be that, and that's the end of that.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
I Don't Know What My Future Holds, But I Know Who Holds My Future.
Two weeks into the semester, and already I am looking for the summer to come peaking behind the snowy cold. Although, when that happens, it will mean saying goodbye to the people that have mattered most to me the past three years. Not forever, but there you have it. It's happened my freshman year. There went people who inspired me, who influenced my art and my mind. And my sophomore year. There went the people with the motivation and talent. And it'll happen this year. Those with kindness, enthusiasm, humor, and grace. The next year, it'll be us. The ones who learned from all the others, and at least attempted such greatness.
It's a new year. I guess you could say it has started off very slowly. I don't have any idea what will happen to me in the next week. Or the next month. Or the one after it. And so forth. No one ever does, do they? I would like to have change in my life. The one I have been living isn't exactly up to par. It's not "doing it" for me, so to speak.
I get these inexplicable ideas in my head that just cannot be shaken. That I could only be in love with so-and-so. Or the only way I'll be happy is if such a thing occurs. It can't be healthy, that's for sure. It scares me, a little. I'm still waiting for things to go back to 'normal' and for whatever reason, I can't understand that this day in and day out is what normal will be until something else shifts. Either via my changing it, or it changing me.
It would be so easy to blame others. But, I don't like to make it easy.
So I'll just keep on keepin' on. Get up. Go to work. Go to class. And back to work. Work out. Go to rehearsal. Learn the steps. Memorize the lyrics. Remember why it's a way of life, instead of a career. Go to bed. Get up. Go to work. Go to class... and on weekends? Do homework. Find some times when friends are around, and go visit. Keep occupied. Work out some more. Pretend it isn't lonely to walk back to an empty room. Wake up, and do it again the next day.
Wash, rinse, repeat as necessary. Wash, rinse, repeat.
It's a new year. I guess you could say it has started off very slowly. I don't have any idea what will happen to me in the next week. Or the next month. Or the one after it. And so forth. No one ever does, do they? I would like to have change in my life. The one I have been living isn't exactly up to par. It's not "doing it" for me, so to speak.
I get these inexplicable ideas in my head that just cannot be shaken. That I could only be in love with so-and-so. Or the only way I'll be happy is if such a thing occurs. It can't be healthy, that's for sure. It scares me, a little. I'm still waiting for things to go back to 'normal' and for whatever reason, I can't understand that this day in and day out is what normal will be until something else shifts. Either via my changing it, or it changing me.
It would be so easy to blame others. But, I don't like to make it easy.
So I'll just keep on keepin' on. Get up. Go to work. Go to class. And back to work. Work out. Go to rehearsal. Learn the steps. Memorize the lyrics. Remember why it's a way of life, instead of a career. Go to bed. Get up. Go to work. Go to class... and on weekends? Do homework. Find some times when friends are around, and go visit. Keep occupied. Work out some more. Pretend it isn't lonely to walk back to an empty room. Wake up, and do it again the next day.
Wash, rinse, repeat as necessary. Wash, rinse, repeat.
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