End of the year

Twenty-five minutes to midnight.  I can hear fire crackers going off around the neighborhood.  The sky is clear, and even with the moon in the center of it all, lots of visible stars, somehow echoing back the sparkling frost that formed on the car, the ice on the ground.

Feeling loved, inspired, and grateful.  Not bad for New Year's Eve.  Don't think I'll stay up.

It's enough.

I'm enough.

More owls

My co-worker commented on the owl sweater (I'd changed for the T-Rex sweater, I call it that because the arms are a strange length, and makes me feel like I have T-Rex arms when I wear it; actually, otherwise, just a very warm, gray sweater) asked if I was wearing it because of the owl.  I guess she'd seen another one having a territorial battle with a Cooper's hawk, during her lunch break today.  I missed that one.  She said it was a Barred owl.  That would be the third species of owl we've encountered around work lately (we'd earlier both seen the Saw-whet owl.)  Pretty good bird viewing location.  Makes me second guess my id of the other one, but it definitely didn't sound like the Barred owl vocalizations.

Got half a page written.  Writing brought up goofy things we do.  Years ago, after I'd first moved back to Seattle, my date was walking me home from a party (because it was late) and I was dragging my feet, even though he was going to eventually see where I lived.  I'd actually met him at a party there months before, but don't think he remembered, and then met him again at work.  I don't know why I thought that mattered, but I did.  I don't think he remembered, but I was embarrassed about it for some reason.  Love and dating bring out all sorts of irrational tendencies.  I can definitely use more of that...those things make perfect sense to us in the moment, but seem odd from the outside.  I'll play with it and see if it goes anywhere.  I've narrowed it down to "miscommunication" or "mistaken identity," for some reason I'm drawing a blank, but I have it written down somewhere.  (Our themes are either love or superstition/luck, the show is on Friday the 13th.)

Tomorrow is the 31rst.  As lame as it might seem, my favorite thing to do on New Year's Eve is to clean, and get rid of stuff I no longer want or need so as to start the year off with a clean(er) slate.  That said, am going to at least one party, an early one, which is a book launch for someone I haven't seen in a long time. She doesn't live here anymore, and I'd like to see her.

I suppose my resolutions would be to notice how I'm blocking (and pushing back, especially opportunity, and emotionally) and to work out how to change that, and to figure out this allergy/immune system thing.  For the latter, I'm back on an elimination diet as of January 1.  Actually working with a doctor this time, so I'm hopeful that I can figure something out.

Cheers.

Back to regular time

As opposed to vacation, when I lose track of what day it is.  Was surprised at how crowded it was Downtown when I got off the bus.  I stepped out just on the edge of a break-dancing circle, where a little kid had just been encouraged to have a go at it, all the other guys cheering him on.  Chaos, in a good way.  Made it to the Suzuki drop-in tonight.  I was the only one beside the leader, who was a sub.  It was good.  I'd forgotten a lot of it, and she went over it with me, explaining it in a way that made sense more concretely than it had before.  Helpful.  (Plus, she mentioned that she'd practiced regularly for three years to learn it, and I've only had about nine hours of instruction; her saying that made me feel less inept.)  It's only one hour.  For the first half, my energy was all over the place (because I was trying to remember everything), and by the last bit, I was more focused and centered.  It's just so much to remember (focus, center, movement, stillness, balance, space, etc...) and I was scattered.  And even though it was only an hour, and there was a lot of explanation, my legs are still shaking.  Really need to figure out how to get this in more: it's good for me, it helps me to focus, both my mind and my eyes.  And it keeps me grounded, for that hour, rooted to the earth, instead of being somewhere off in the ether.

Still having trouble with the writing, I just don't have a clue how to write it and the fear of that is keeping me from getting anything done.  I told myself earlier today that I can just free-write for an hour (or maybe it should be shorter, but I can probably write for an hour) around the idea and see if anything comes out of it; removing the pressure of perfection that's always lurking about.  Guess I'll do that now.

We're having another cold spell.  It does make sense, being winter and all, but I somehow wasn't ready for it.

Post Christmas

and listening to the Clash.  Sliced my finger open on Christmas, bad enough to ask someone to take me to the hospital.  Thankfully, there wasn't much of a wait, even if the care was slightlty questionable (how they dealt with the blood, they didn't look at it, didn't clean it, I pulled off the guaze and they glued it shut.  At least no stitches, though.)  It's been in a splint.  I can take it off tomorrow, I haven't looked at it, but it doesn't hurt, so I'll take that as a good sign.  In the meantime, I can't cook or anything, and I went to get my hair cut this afternoon just so someone could wash it.  (I've been needing to get it cut anyway, so did that too.)  And finally went to DSW to find a pair of dressy shoes so I could send the boots to be repaired.  I'm trying to not be in public too much, it's the middle finger and I appear to be flipping everyone off.  Someone said that at least the bandage looks like a bandage.

I'm typing with one hand.  No writing tonight.  I could probably do the Suzuki exercises, though.  And read a couple plays (Letts.)

I drove back early this morning, just as the sun had risen.  The passing of time did nothing to lighten the day.  The clouds were so heavy, hanging moodily in the forests.  There was no other traffic on the way to the ferry dock, I think I saw three other cars going the same direction the whole time.  (Lots of hawks, though.)

Now it's breaking up enough to allow for views of the stars and a half moon.  Time to stop typing.

Christmas Eve

Spent most of today driving, have a couple more hours to do, but am giving my back a break, and hoping that the rainstorm I just drove the last 45 minutes through passes over before I go back.  Nothing worked out, and I was too late to make the service I was singing at...but, god, it was a beautiful day to drive up to my hometown.  The clouds broke and a raking golden light lit the flooded fields.  Saw eagles, hawks, herons, flocks of snow geese, and trumpeter swans near the road.  Driving through the forest near Deception Pass, the sun raked through the trees, wide rays anointing the highway.  (My brother's dog is still terrified of me.  I won him over last year, now I'll have to start again.  Should've brought him a present.)  Driving back to Seattle, as the dusk set in, fog began rising up from the fields, and then I took a back road to avoid mall traffic (got off of the freeway), and hit the rainstorm just as it got dark, and still there was traffic.  You can drive it in 90 minutes but it took an extra hour in both directions today.  (I couldn't really pull over, so I turned onto this side road, stopped in the middle and shot this through the window.)

Skagit Valley, close to sunset, December 24/L Herlevi 2014

Wishing all many blessings, forgiveness, grace, trust, courage, peace, and above all love.  Merry Christmas!

Sunny Monday Morning

Woke up thinking I was late, but when I checked a clock, it was only 4:30 am.  Caught an early bus, an express to Downtown, one side of the freeway in dark brown monotone, minus the odd string of Christmas lights, the other side where the sun was starting to hit, in color.  Something pleasing and inspiring about the moodiness.  The sun is out now, one day post solstice, minutes of extra light now.  Took a picture of the mountain, mostly flat blue, but on the eastern slopes, a white cloud rising up like steam, slowly brightening from the emerging sun.  All nature seeming distant and moody... feels right.  (Listening to moody 80's music, too...also feels about right.  Makes me happy, in a dreamy kinda' way.  Everything seemed possible...if I can hold the feeling, maybe it will be again.  You can always start again.  And I always seem to have started again in depth of winter.)

Moody, December 22/L Herlevi 2014

Went to an Appalachian Christmas concert last night, I arrived a little late, so got seated in the back by the soundboard...if I ever buy tickets again (currently using up all of my comps from working last year), that's what I'll go for: the sound was great.  Ran into a friend during intermission, he commented on what it must be like to grow up in a musical family, where people sit around and play music together.  Made me think of the Sanford Meisner statement that it takes 20 years to be an actor, and how it's just doing the thing that you do until it's so much a part of you, that you can express what you want through whatever media you are using (dance, painting, singing, playing an instrument, sculpture, writing, whatever.)  Time and practice.  Practice.  Practice.  Love.  Desire to do it that over rides any disappointments or set backs.  (Also, just being surrounded by a community that supports you in that.)

Finally went to the Frye yesterday as well.  I got side-tracked (and soaked) on Saturday, so hung around the house most of the day.  Joined a docent tour, which was cool for the other exhibit, Pan Gongkai, but I always like to hear what other people see when they look at art.  Read a bunch of short plays about dating (which had up to seven characters in them), and wrote about the order I want the characters to enter, where I want them on stage.  Need to figure out the game, still.  And I have a lot to get done before Christmas...maybe the car rental place will let me get the car early, they do sometimes, because it makes their lives easier when it's busy.

Happy Solstice! 

Waiting for the store to open

It's early.  Listening to the rain pound on the roof, it's the only sound I can hear.  Went to a show last night, fell asleep again, during the last number.  Have no idea what was going on, some sorta' musical thing; had been generally enjoying it up to that point, too.  Maybe I was having a sugar crash; we had a party at work earlier in the day, and there'd been a lot of desserts.  Then I was tired walking to the bus, on the bus, and I'm still tired, though not enough to sleep anymore.  I need to get up and write, and I'm waiting for the grocery store to open (7 am.)  Have a lot to get done, took off an extra day after New Year's to try to get this thing written before we get a coaching session.  Will watch more comedy sketches and read more comedy writing before now and then.  Gonna try to get some sorta' outline down on paper today.

When I returned a play yesterday, I was wandering around the stacks looking for Tracy Letts' plays (he writes women characters in my age range) for monologues, and came across a Suzuki book.  When I checked it out, I found out there was a DVD included, which I'm hoping shows the exercises so I can practice them, and have them more solid for drop-in sessions.  That's due back next week.  I didn't think there was any such thing, so I'm excited that there is, and that it was available in the library.  (I love that library, access to it is my favorite job benefit.)

Twenty minutes.  I wonder if I have enough time to go to a museum today?  I want to go see the show at the Frye before it closes, it's open for two more weeks.  It was curated over social media, people voted for what they wanted to see in the show.  I'm curious about what's in it, but I had read that the top choices of the masses rose to a higher common denominator (which isn't always what we're led to expect will happen.)  That whole concept of crowd decisions is interesting to me.

So, much to get done before the holiday.

Waiting.

Rain still falling.  Sun not yet risen.

No reason

Woke up late, after 7 am.  Didn't realize it had been raining, and wore the boots with the bad soles...too late to go back and change them by the time I got outside, tried to avoid standing water, but the duct tape had worn through, and my socks were soaked by the time I got to work.  Missed the first bus.  Second bus got stuck in traffic, was consequently a full half-hour late.  It wasn't just the wet feet, but I must have woken up in a bad mood.  No reason for it.  Yesterday went well.  And tried to take care of everything that was causing me stress today, to get rid of loose ends, but all to no avail, the mood lingered.  Telling myself to look at good things only makes me want to strangle myself, and so I'm glad no one else said that to me.  It doesn't help.  Sometimes you need to acknowledge the foul moods and let them be.  For the most part, I tend toward optimism.  Just not today.  (Really need to get the boots repaired, but I need to find something to wear in the meantime.)

Told my co-worker, you can't take them out on other people, but I was feeling generally pissy.  She drove me to Fred Meyer because we needed to buy a replacement microwave for the break room...the old one kept running even when the timer had rung and you had opened the door.  Couldn't find any online that had universally good reviews, most of them had comments such  as, "I will never buy X brand again."  So, we bought one that was on sale and will hope for the best (i.e., that it doesn't catch on fire, or stop working tomorrow, etc.)

Still have three major things I need to take care of, but will do them in the morning (organizing a moving job, and making some phone calls.)  Oh, and then the writing thing.  I'll probably get some old variety show episodes (Carol Burnett, or something) and see how they work the routines with more than two people on stage.

I stopped by a normally busy Thai restaurant on the way home, there was a seat, so I went in and ate.  I thought it might be slow with most of the students out of town, but there was a line waiting out in the rain by the time I got my food.  There is so much going on, and the space is so tiny, that it overwhelmed my bad mood, so I felt more normal by the time I walked out.  For good measure, I borrowed a bunch of comedies, felt the need to laugh still; and I know these ones make me laugh.  (Have watched How to Marry a Millionaire-Marilyn Monroe cracks me up in that, and The Full Monty, the whole of which makes me laugh/cry at the same time.)

Maybe it's planetary...don't know.  Fingers crossed that it doesn't linger into tomorrow.

Messiness of being

I went to these two performance (second was more a participatory discussion) yesterday.  The first was a dance piece (in progress, I think), followed by a performance of Rimbaud's poetry featuring a dancer, a cellist, and an actor, which I liked quite a bit.  The second had three pieces dealing with identity, authenticity, and belonging, I think, and then the audience broke into small groups to meet with each of the performers (or groups.)  It was to start conversation.  (A lot of the same people were at both.  Two different venues.)

How do you share in someone else's culture without co-opting it?  How do you use any privilege you might have to better things for someone else who lacks it?  Someone implied you needed to act, but acting blindly without knowing what the other wants or needs (paternalism?) can be as bad as doing nothing.  You need to have the courage to ask, "What's wrong?" "What do you need?" "What can I do to help?"  There needs to be a conversation.  How do you start it?

Someone mentioned feeling isolated until they somehow realized other people felt the same way...what takes so long for those conversations to happen?  What's getting in the way?  Why is it not safe to have them?  It reminds me of something I was told about a women's craft co-operative that had recently been started in Costa Rica when I was studying there in college.  Someone said that there had been a lot of domestic abuse, and the extent of it hadn't been known because no one was talking about it (shame? normalizing it?) and then this co-op was started and women started talking to each other and sharing experience, and realizing that it was common, and also, not acceptable, and because they were able to build community, things started to change.

And then someone else mentioned her fear of crowd mentality, and how fast people will join a group, or adapt their behavior to the group. And how we lose (or are perceived to lose) our individuality, or our individual discernment in those situations.  And in a herd (which she studies) that can be a safety move, but what if that group is actively against your best interest or what you know to be right?

And related to that?  Why have so many of us silenced ourselves?  Why have we become afraid to express what we really feel?  We nod our heads in agreement, or say nothing when we should speak up, and I think a part of us dies every time we shut ourselves down.  I'm not suggesting to always be contrary or confrontational, but there are times we should say something and yet remain silent. (To keep the peace, to not rock the boat, whatever.)

And then on a more performance/artistic level, how do you find your authentic voice?  How do you get to the place where you are presenting who you are and not what you think will please an audience, drive tickets sales, make money?  How do you stay true to yourself?  The world probably needs more of that and less of everyone trying to cash in on the flavor of the day.

In the end, the conversation was specific to that space and the art form (dance) and an exclusion people were feeling, though you can feel it in society as well (especially if you find yourself always in the midst of people like yourself, which is easy to do...there was more diversity when I was growing up than there has been since I left home, and I know that has affected me, and I have to actively fight against it.  But you don't resist things you are not aware of.)  I went because I thought it would be thought-provoking, which it was, though I'm not a dancer.  The facilitator commented on that at the end, saying that her husband, a musician, can walk into a store and have other musicians acknowledge him for his work, regardless of the color of his skin, sexuality, beliefs, culture, etc.  Her point being that the music community is more inclusive, more open to experiencing the other, working with each other, etc...so how do the rest of us embrace more of that attitude, and less exclusivity?

Saturday

Listening to "Year Without a Santa Claus" while writing this.  Walked around the lake just now, it was this luminary event the neighborhood does every year.  Technically, it was over, but they hadn't extinguished all the lights, and there were still crowds walking, so I went, too.  Saw a shooting star.  The sky is very clear tonight, the air still, water reflective, and it was in the 40's, so, also not too cold.  A good night for walking the lake.  I actually thought it happened last week, but saw a sign for it this morning.  There was no moon out, so lots of stars.  I sat on a bench for a while and star-gazed, miss being able to see them.  There's usually too much light.

We had our annual concert/Finnish Christmas dinner earlier today (which was why I was late walking the lake), and clown jam right before that.  Added a fourth person to mine, so I'll have to figure out how to write that, as one person said, "Get all the air out of it."  I'm not sure what the game is, and because we added the fourth person, which really changes the dynamic and focus, we just played with it, so I'm not sure where we are.  I'll probably write a couple of versions this week, as some form of outline.  Still working on my personality, too (though, I'm flirting more, so that's progress.)  I need a map.

Earlier today, I walked over to Starbuck's (yeah, yeah, yeah, I frequent many coffee shops) and while waiting in line, I saw that I could get a free $5 gift card with the purchase of that Via instant coffee, so I grabbed some of that, it'll probably save money at some point, I'm often feeling lazy in the morning.  When I got up to the register, the man rung me up, and I asked if he'd charged me for the coffee, and he said someone else had paid most of my bill (via an anonymous gift card.)  I had been meaning to use the gift card to pay for the coffee, but forgot about that, at any rate, since I didn't end up paying for the card, I gave it to the man selling papers outside (I didn't have any cash to buy the paper.)  I didn't really have any plans for it.

Then I went to the grocery store and was looking at Christmas cards and thinking I should write some and send them (before the New Year.)  I walked back on my way out and decided I would splurge for these cards with an odd Finnish-looking character on them.  They didn't say they were on sale, but they rang up for half price.  And then at the Finnish dinner, I paid my way (we always have to pay even though we are hosts, though we get a discount)...a little while later, someone handed my money back to me saying that someone else had wanted to pay for my dinner.  I do always seem to be broke, but I wasn't today.  It was a nice run of that though.

Down to 9 1/2 library books (not counting Dickens) and five movies (there are more now because I stopped by Scarecrow Video on the 2/1 night, you get those for a week.  Oh, the guy gave me a discount on that, too.  I think because he couldn't find one of the movies, and I had to switch it.)  Been kinda' stressed out over everything, was thinking Christmas was this week for some reason, but I was wrong.  The Finnish choir only has one more gig and then we have almost a month off.  The other choir doesn't get any time off (except for the holidays that fall on rehearsals.)

Most of my waking thoughts, and every dream I've had recently have involved theatre somehow.  Got a lot I need to get done, and soon.  Outer commitments are slowing down, but have all that stuff I have to make happen now.  Cheers.

Record high

Went to this birthday party last night: it was fun.  I left early-ish (after 10), but it took over an hour-and-a-half to get home, so I kinda' wish I'd stayed longer.  When I left people had started to either to do a trick, a roast of the birthday lady, or both, and it sounds like a lot more people finally got up.  Initially, people were holding back.  And it was cold waiting for the bus(es), it had been almost 70 degrees in the morning, but had gotten considerably windier and colder by 11 pm.  The first bus, I barely missed and ended up waiting 25 minutes for the next one, which was late and so I missed the second connection and had to wait another 30 minutes for that one.  Went into the all-night grocery store to see if they had coffee or something warm, had to settle for a deep-fried burrito sitting under a heat lamp, for $1, but it killed time.  It's an interesting scene, I haven't hung out in a grocery store late at night in a long time.  Years ago, I kept applying for Denny's waitressing jobs because I wanted to work the graveyard shifts there, because I was interested in the life that happens when everyone else is asleep.  Now, I like sleeping too much.

Anyway...the invitation had asked people to dress up in costume, and normally I have a really hard time with that (coming up with something.)  But I did come up with an idea, and when I thought about it, and also when I was putting it together at home, there was a definite personality to it: a way of speaking, moving, acting.  And while I didn't end up putting the whole thing on at the party, nor pulling off the personality, it did dawn on me how much those choices matter for character.  Also that part of my confusion with my clown is the clothes.  I need more inspiring clothes.  The ones I have don't do anything for me.  They inform nothing.  I just like them, but that's milquetoast.  This is why rehearsal clothes matter, and suddenly I understand that.

Also, someone I was dancing with mentioned that years ago when he had studied clown, they'd "ranked" them, and that had helped with figuring out personality as well.  We didn't do that.  And I tend to run at a lower energy level emotionally, but the character I found last night was probably a five or a six.  (Out of a scale 0-7.)

Enlightening.  Funny what triggers understanding.

Well, that was short-lived

Okay, so I wasn't able to stick to my media fast, I like reading.  (And I have 12 books out from the library, plus three movies...though none of those are "news" related.)

Take a deep breath.  An airing of secrets, a cleansing of corruptions.  I don't want to see retaliation, because that never ends, but there needs to be a reckoning.  People should have to face up to what they did.  There needs to be accountability, or every thing you say you believe in or stand for amounts to nothing.  And until there is accountability, there can be no trust, and we need trust for society to function.

And I can love people who don't think like me, we can disagree.  You can be fully yourself, and hopefully I will also have the courage to do that, by seeing your example of putting yourself out there. (And yet, we are more aligned than not.)  And that that's progress for me right now, there's been a lot of fear living in my head.  (It's just the that courage has been lacking in me, not always the case, it just got dangerous somehow.)  It's the need to always be infallible that keeps a wall up; we could both be right or both be wrong, but neither would tell the whole story of our humanness.  We are all more than one belief or another, or the sum of many.  Again, we need to find common ground, start again, re-create...it's all so volatile.  Where are the cooler heads that can be trusted?

Little bit of free time now

Well, the final audition for the class was today.  I don't feel like I could nail an audition tomorrow, but I do know what I need to do.  Part of it is that on the first day, he said something about forgetting all of your acting choices and finding the driving action, which I tried to do.  I think though, that the point was that I needed to put the acting choices back in on top of the a driving action once I found it, and I didn't really do that.  So, noted.  Also, while I've increased the time I've spent working on monologues and cold readings, it's not nearly enough.  I need to spend more time, make stronger choices, get it memorized early, etc... all good to know.

I really need to find somewhere to study Shakespeare, it's offered here next quarter, but I want to work on solo performance stuff, mostly because it would help with the clown show, and I re-discovered the two-person performance idea I had earlier this fall, and the solo performance class would also be helpful with that (well, that one or play writing.)  Both of those are also being offered.  And right now, I need to look at the clown piece for next Saturday...luckily, no singing gigs this week, though I do have two rehearsals, and a couple of parties.  I'll just have to start getting up earlier, and dedicate some time to it.

Yesterday was suddenly overcome with a fair amount of despair and futility, but got dressed and went to my singing gig, way out in sticks: the moon was lovely, ride over was with people who are good conversationalists, ran into an unexpected friend, someone said I could have dinner even though I hadn't registered (I didn't register because I thought we were singing before dinner, and I wanted to leave after singing, to go work on audition stuff, but we ended up singing after dinner...the people who drove me over had offered to pay for me to stay, but I had earlier turned them down), my voice sounded better to me than usual, (though I don't think that's license to abuse it by belting in a key I shouldn't on a regular basis, still kinda hurts), someone offered to let me spend Christmas with them, and another friend drove me home, way out of her way, probably an extra hour of driving for her...the kindness directed at me (in a non-threatening way) restored me.  Humbles me.  It was what I needed in a way I could accept it, at the right time.  We are answered.  (None of them did it because I was sad, they didn't know.  They did it because it's who they are.)

Friday

Sang at the Figgy Pudding event tonight (a fundraiser for The Pike Market Senior Center and Food Bank.)  Not sure how we sounded, we were a rag-tag choir, all of us responding to an email, using only song sheets, with no music scoring, and only having two rehearsals...but it went okay.  We also had a tuba player who had only recently moved to the US, and so didn't really know our Christmas music, but did a great job of accompanying us anyway.  The rain held off, it got warmer, and the protesters ended up rescheduling the protest to another day, though there might have been something after we left, there weren't any while we were singing.  We left right after we sang to get our stuff out of the office.

My voice is shot.  I am supposed to sing tomorrow night, but I'll have to see if I still can, if I rest it.  A few of the songs were in difficult keys.  I'm not sure how long we sang, but I felt pretty exhausted by the end, not really paying all that much attention to what I was singing, partially that was because it was a lot of singing, and partially it was because my throat really hurt by that point.  (The women near me were saying the same thing...we were trying to sing Jackson 5 versions of a couple of songs, but Micheal could really belt out at quite a high pitch, and even trying to lower the pitch, it was still hard to do.  Probably should have warmed up beforehand.)

I was gonna come home and watch a movie that's due back tomorrow, but went out for a drink with a few of the singers after instead.  Most of us had never met before, but the conversation was great, there wasn't even really small talk, we just dug into it. We hung out for a couple of hours. Unexpected and cool, even if I never see any of them again.  Interesting group of people.  (What we had in common was that we all use car sharing.

Other good things: there was an adorable bull-dog (French, I think), on the bus, and the clouds parted just enough to let me view the full moon right before I walked into the house.

Not reading anything

I'm doing a media fast for a while, not sure how long.  Might write...I don't know.  There's just so much negativity; it makes me feel toxic, like I get angry and stressed out and cornered which isn't conducive for me doing or adding anything useful or helpful or de-escalating into the world.  (And I don't want to spill that over onto the people around me.)  I'm not burying my head in the sand; I'm not staying home.  Gonna go out and listen and try to do something positive and look for ways where I can see the whole world isn't going to hell right now.  I've currently lost faith in humanity.  (Just so much bad news today, so much injustice, so much fear and digging into camps.)  Strings are being pulled somewhere to make us all enemies, someone gains from this, all of the rest of us lose: we lose the ability to be able to trust one another, to have civil discourse, to feel safe in the world, to work for a common good, to have empathy, to see our common humanity, to see good in one another, to have a future where there could be equality, to have a voice in any future (yeah, and some people lose their lives.)

The man sitting next to me on the bus asked how one even begins to address this place where we've arrived at...I don't know.  Protest works until people feel heard, but are those with the means to change anything listening?  (An election would have been a good time to replace them if they are not listening, but the majority didn't feel like it was important enough to vote.)  Some "good faith" effort needs to be offered, or the fear is just gonna keep ratcheting up on all sides until it's out of control.  Things are broken.

Why

I haven't been writing as much as I used to.  Everything I think to write feels so self-indulgent and that it would be boring to anyone else that I just don't say it.  Mostly I started writing the blog to make myself write, and hopefully become better at it over time...and I suppose the act of not writing is counter to that.  I write off-the-cuff, and while editing might make it better, there's also the truth that if I think about it too much, I won't do it at all.

Have been inspired by a photographer I came across yesterday, both in what he's photographing and how he's presenting it.  Something to aspire to in the new year.  I haven't followed through (yet...been busy with other things) on other ideas, so will have to wait to see if this one sticks.  But I've challenged myself, it has to do with urban/wild boundaries/overlap...I've been working on and off with the idea for years, not always successfully, but I'm intrigued by it; mostly I wonder which will win out, and what that would look like.  In a place that's been "re-wilded," what remains?  (At any rate, it's what we've been left with.)

I had a lot going on last year, and not much currently: work, trying to not slide backward on everything I gained (internally) last year, and now working on this show...getting through the mud of life.  Figuring out what's actual as opposed to what I want to see (where it's not.)

If real people (as opposed to spam generators) are actually reading this, thank you.

Putting it out there

Well.  It was good to get the idea on its feet and look at it in reality.  The two clowns that improv'd it with me were great and went places I hadn't imagined...so that was awesome.  There are different parts that need to be fleshed out and explored further, but um...I think it'll work, which is crazy.  Seems it will have text, and I need to decide if my clown speaks, and what that sounds like if I do.  Up to this point, it has been mute for the most part.  Also, I need a personality, and a gender, just because I wear a skirt doesn't mean I have to be female...and I've known that the clown has needed a solid personality for a while, it's just that I actually have to have one now.  Lately, I've been feeling like an old man, but that's probably not right.  Have a week-and-a-half to get direction on that.  The feedback was helpful.  The set up needs to be solid.

There were good ideas all around tonight, I think we will have enough material for the time.  It'll be fun.  I'm glad someone put their foot down and decided we should do this (the clown showcase.)

I was telling someone about the show earlier today, she said if we came up with a good piece she might hire us for an event.

Anyway, I've got to get back to the audition stuff.  I'd forgotten to choose my cold-reading side, and I need to read that through more, as well as work on the Shakespeare.

Only five more scheduled rehearsals until the show...even with an outline now, hardly seems like enough time.

Monday

Yea!  Out of my ridiculous insomnia last night, aside from running monologues, I came up with an idea for our show.  I probably should have just gotten up and written, when I finally fell asleep, my dreams were disturbing.  (Unrelated to the show idea, I think.)  At any rate, exciting that I had an idea, and something to work with, wherever it ends up going.

Another ridiculous week, schedule-wise: four singing gigs (one out of town), a rehearsal, and the final audition thing.

One down.  So much to get done.

Here's a heron, because it showed up and stood there in front of me, earlier.

Great Blue Heron, December 1/L Herlevi 2014

Heron, December 1/L Herlevi 2014

It's snowing

Somewhere before 3 am, I look out the window and I see that snow has drifted into the corners of the neighboring roof.  I go downstairs to look at the front window, I can see it falling in the light from the streetlamp, but it isn't sticking.  I go upstairs and read (insomnia, as usual.)  I look out again an hour later, and it's still pouring down, but not sticking anywhere.  Finally fall back asleep.

Now it's morning, and it has stuck, enough to cover everything in white, still coming down.  Everything muffled.  Traffic in the distant, a quiet roar; nearer, the caw of a crow.  Think I need to go out in it.

Walked around the lake, the western side was somehow out of the wind and so I felt like it was warming up.  Then I got to the south end and either the wind picked up or it just wasn't hitting the other side, strong and really cold.  There were white caps on the lake, and the waves where crashing up against the wall and splashing across the path.  My face and hands were freezing, so I took a detour about a half-mile later on a path that goes up toward a main road, and away from the water.  At one point I looked back and the water looked steely, and I thought I wanted a picture of it, so I stopped.  My hands were cold, and it took a minute to get the lens cap off, and to hit the on button.  While I was doing that, I hear a loud cracking sound, and look to see a tree fall across the path I'm on, about ten to fifteen feet further along from where I was standing.  Suddenly, there are people everywhere.  Someone runs over and looks under the branches to see if anyone got trapped (I don't think there was anyone else near when it fell, there was a shout, but that was me.)  It took about five seconds to fall, but there was something strangely gentle about it.  Perhaps I was seeing it in slow motion.

You know, I'm not freaked out in any way, but there's this small part of me that thinks, "I could've died today, and I didn't...why not?"  (I don't want to die.  It just makes me think about what I'm doing with my time.)

Later, at home, some random woman walked out of our bathroom.  I said "hi" to her.  There is an off chance she was my downstairs housemate, but I didn't really recognize her.  And now my smoke alarm is chirping so I'm back out to the store to buy a new battery.  It's been an odd day.

At least the wind has died down a bit.  It's gorgeous outside, a silvery light (as a friend of mine used to call it), but freezing.

Here are some pictures of the walk.  Fallen tree is the last one; the path to the right was the one I was following.

Muddy pathway, Nov 29/L Herlevi 2014

Yellow trees, blue sky, November 29/L Herlevi 2014

Windblown, November 29/L Herlevi 2014

Tree that fell today, November 29/L Herlevi 2014

Keeping the door open

"Yes, and..." is better for keeping the doors open for change than "no."  Re-framing the change in the positive.  It's important to be on your own side, even if it feels you are the only one.  I think I'm there now, I'll learn what I need to learn and move on.  If I have to work harder than anyone else, then I guess I will.

And in light of all that's happened, keep looking for the best in yourself and in one another, you might discover it.  If you focus only on the worst aspects, that's all you will find.  We will become more fearful and divided, building thicker walls.  There is no future there, none that any of us really want.

What does it mean to love your enemy?  To behave on your highest impulse, even when you want revenge?  To find common ground?  To practice empathy?  Would it change anything?

Sunday

Curiously, now all I want to do is work on theatre stuff.  Feel like I have something to prove.  And some direction to move forward in.

Tired

Spent a long time this morning slow-reading the Frankie monologue.  Still need to get the Emilia down, but it's interesting if I do it one word at a time, how much I actually remember, and how much time I have to think about why I'm saying what I'm saying.  It's an exercise you usually would do with a scene partner as you start working on a scene, you'd sit across a table, or just facing each other, and read each word at a time.  (It can be slightly uncomfortable to do, releasing a lot of nervousness, or maybe that's just because I've always worked on those in front of other people.)  I don't know how it'll affect the delivery tomorrow, but it helped today.  Still not solid on the driving action, not with either of them.

Had a memorial service to sing at, and then had meant to walk with the other monologue, but took a nap instead, and then it was dark out, so tried to read it sorta' quietly on the bus until someone sat next to me.

Rushed to a dance performance, David Rousève/REALITY "Stardust," at Meany.  All I knew about it beforehand was that he used a Twitter feed in the background, and that it was partially to be annoying, to make a statement about how much we check our phones and email and Facebook even when we are with someone else, because perhaps we fear we might miss something important, and because I had heard that, I wasn't reading them all initially and was trying to watch the dancers.  But...they were important.  The whole thing was the story of a teenage boy, African American, gay, who initially lived with his grandfather, and then went into foster care.  And all he wanted was to be loved.  (And that story was told in the Twitter feed.)

It destroyed me.  I had my hand clamped over my mouth by the end to keep myself from sobbing, and it's the first show in a while that I jumped up for a standing ovation for.  Just powerful.  I felt myself alternating between heartbreak and anger, that there's that spark of humanity in all of us, and that anyone would snuff that out of someone else.  What right do you have?  That you would never know that because you need to have power over someone else to feel good about yourself...what effing right do you have???  That this kid looked at Van Gogh and got it.  Heard Nat King Cole and found a kindred soul.  Thought of pigeons as ghetto angels...and then how someone could take advantage of him, kill his soul that was just starting to find itself.  (Was he a saint? No, but none of us are, we all deserve to find our way in the world, or reason for being, should such a thing exist.)  Sure...it's "fiction" for the stage, but it's happening somewhere for real right now.  Someone takes someone else's power away, or slaps a label on someone and decides they know all they need to know about them.  They know nothing, and the label builds a wall, prevents them from seeing a human being, or learning anything.

Even when you know someone well, there are secrets you never reach, what makes anyone think they can know a stranger on a snap judgment?  They don't.  We don't.  We make up stories to keep ourselves separate, to justify our actions, our discrimination, our fears.

The labels we choose to put on someone else tell more about our own prejudices than they do about whomever we choose to label.

There are too many bullies in the world.  Open your heart.  Become more human.

Wednesday

Find I was free, saw a Facebook post regarding a closing night show, tickets $5, so I went.  "Horse Girls," by Jenny Rachel Weiner at Annex.  Campy and fun, for being a bit of a slasher.  The girls are supposed to be about twelve-years old, obsessed with horses (yes), but only one (Anastasia Higham as Margaret) really pulled off the young age.  Rest came off as mid-teen.  It was cute, I liked it.  thought the lead did a good job with emotions, I don't know who the actress was, they didn't have any programs left.

I've decided that my problem is that I'm not risking enough.  I think about it, but I don't follow through; I'm holding back.  It's the knowing what I need to do, but always finding excuses of why I need more information before actually acting on it.  Had a conversation with a friend about it last weekend, there is a point where you need to stop always reading the acting books, and actually practice the exercises.  He was saying the same thing about himself.

Anyway, decided to go back to Emilia and Frankie for the monologues.  Tried to daydream for Frankie this morning, about what's going on with her at that moment before she's asking him to leave.  Couldn't get anywhere with it.  Seem to have difficulty daydreaming when I have to do it.  Also, went for a walk during lunch where I could say lines out loud without a lot of people around.  I'm trying out the idea of taking a line or word I'm stuck on and practicing saying it with as many emotional states and emphasis as possible.  The idea was suggested at the cold-reading event.  It's to help free up the words from preconceptions of a set meaning, and also, to help you access what you think in your head, so that it comes out that way when you say it.  It doesn't always (it often doesn't.)

Joined another short-term choir for the season.  We are singing for a fundraising event/caroling competition (Figgy Pudding, benefits the Pike Market Senior Center and Food Bank.)  We only have two rehearsals, not sure what we will wear or sing, but you know, I'll find out soon.  It'll be fun, and we get fed.

Walking home last night, both Broadway and Westlake were being decorated with Christmas lights, and the Nordstrom Santa (land?) was being constructed.  It hardly feels close to the holidays for me, in spite of Thanksgiving being a week away, and the change in the weather.  Fall quarter is almost over.

The cold and sun have left, and the warmer gloom has returned.  No shooting stars tonight. Well, none that I can see.

More to think about

Henceforth get thee away!  Reading Shakespeare on the bus, and now am thinking to myself in Elizabethan English which is both amusing and a little annoying-and yes, that's the best sentence I could come up with after verses of mistaken identity, accusations of sorcery, and servants taking the blame for every last misunderstanding.  (And yes, had I begun sooner, I might've written this post that way...maybe next time.)  Not actually sure why it stayed in my brain so long.  "Comedy of Errors."  Not sure if I will use a monologue from this or go back to "Othello."  (I am inconsistent with punctuation.  I know it.)  They are with the Abbess now, but I haven't finished it.

Went to a cold-reading workshop.  Will try to find more opportunities.  I just need to do it, and I like having the feedback.  I need to get over my self-consciousness, let myself to flirt with text (been an issue before), and figure out why I'm shutting down my impulses before I even know they exist, or at least how to stop doing this.  It was an issue all last year in Meisner as well.  Has not always been, nor has my squelching emotions.  I need to take the judgement off of these things (of myself).  I wasn't always like this, I used to be pretty fiery (not always the best choice in life, granted), but within the past several years I haven't been.  It's not like that was ever particularly safe at any point, so why the sudden stop?  If not always helpful in life, it would be useful in theatre; I'd like to get it back.

If I can get past the self-consciousness (making a boring choice? a dumb choice? a foolish choice?), maybe I can learn a foreign language, too...well, a lot of things.  It held me back there as well.  So much of this is boldness.  Pushing out as far as you can to see what too far is, and where you can come back to.  ("Make big shapes I can move in."-Rilke, my mantra for taking chances.)  Need to be brave enough to be a fool.  To look like a fool.  To sound like a fool.  To actually do it, out loud and, not just in my head.  Thinking is not the same as doing.

No risk and nothing ever changes.

Monday

Unless I can get this Emilia monologue to work, totally new monologues next week.  We need to present two for the final class (like a real audition) plus also do a side for a call-back situation.  We'll probably have an outside audience, possibly a casting director (because people requested that.)  So, a lot of work to do.  At least, need to choose, so I can do the character work.

Went to the drop-in Suzuki session tonight.  Took time off of work to go; there were three of us, plus the instructor.  We did marches and slow-ten (not sure how to write that.)  I like the slow-ten.  Feel very uncoordinated and amateur otherwise; started to get the marches by the second time through.  Started to.  Learned an arm movement we hadn't done in the intensive, which confused my body-brain connection.  It's still: the centering, the actual movement, the stillness, the holding of the stillness for as long as possible before moving (as quick as possible), the rhythm, the moving in sync with everyone else, and the switching of sides (not to mention just trying to remember what the movements are supposed to be), and the focus.  And then we did the whole sequence again, switching sides of the body, to the non-dominant one, which always throws me off.  Perhaps it's like learning to play the drums, or the piano, or whatever it is where every limb is doing something different and you just have to learn all those things and then forget about it.  When I was learning how to play a drum kit a number of years ago, I remember the moments where I had each limb doing a different thing, and I'd get excited about that, and then think about it, and then lose the groove...actually, that's acting, too.  And I guess that's part of why this is good for that.  (Acting is holding all those parts of the character in your body and voice and mind, and using yourself to communicate their story for them.  You do all the work, and then it's there, and available.)

Anyway, it's only an hour, and in some ways that seems so short, but in others, plenty.  I think the only thing I might have been able to do at the end of the hour would have been statues, and not very many of those.  I was super shaky.  Fatigued.  And really hungry.  (And then I had choir rehearsal after, so wiped out now.) Surprising how much energy it takes to hold focus, intention, and stillness.  I'm not sure when I can go again, but it's the sorta' thing that needs a lot of practice.  I enjoy it, when I get over the nervousness.

Onto the next thing

Feeling sick to my stomach most of the day.  In the morning, I went for a long walk to make the most of the sun, to see what birds have come, (so many birds, and when I walked to the shore for a closer look, they swam over, expecting to be fed) and to work on the memorization of a monologue.

Later at clown group, I think we have a start on a few things.  The show feels very soon.  Once home, I had to force myself to go out again, had a ticket to a (final, I think) Beckett show.  This one more based on inspiration than an actual Beckett play.  And as such, and because it was physical/clown, and because it had some hope in it, I probably liked it the best of the bunch.  Not all the dialogue worked for me, and again, there was more hope and redemption involved, so, not necessarily as true to Beckett, and there seemed to be more a sense of cause and effect...at any rate, possibly because of all these things, I found myself more involved in what happened.  And while I didn't necessarily laugh, (a lot of the audience did), I did find that I cared what happened to the characters, and I liked the way it was staged.  (And since I felt sick the whole time, I was glad it was relatively short and I could come back home to curl up again.)

I was late arriving.  The bus had to wait at an early stop.  A man had entered the bus, I'm not sure what was going on with him, but he kept trying to sit on the driver, had difficulty maneuvering himself about, at one point his pants dropped down to his ankles, and I saw the driver's hand point, presumably to pull them back on, which he eventually did.  He was finally able to find his way to a seat and sit down after about five minutes of this.  Not dressed for the weather at all, wearing just a couple of thin shirts and the pants.  The bus plowed forward, to make up the time.  At any rate, I wasn't the only one late for the show, about five others.  They held the start.

What possessed me to go find frozen yogurt when I got of the bus, every storefront I pass darkened for the evening, though it's not yet 10 pm, already shivering from the cold air, is beyond me.  The shop is open, and I, the sole customer.  I walk home carrying it in un-gloved hands, no chance of it melting.  Perhaps it will settle my stomach.

Looking up as I near my house, the sky is magnificent.  So clear.  So many stars.

Such sky

Above the rush-hour traffic, the crowds huddled and hurrying to get on the next bus, the noise that ends the workday, the clear sky fades from blue to black.  The stars prepare for their nightly dance.  All is still.  A holding of breath.  Waiting, and full of possibility.

Anything can happen now.

Almost Friday

This wren is hopping around and peering in all the windows...perhaps it wants to come inside.  Cold out.  Breezy, too.  The sun is welcome, at least for me, my mood is better without the gloom.  Still feeling relatively uninspired.  My creative endeavor being making broth on Tuesday and making soup this morning.  Lately, I feel a bit of pride if I cook anything at all.  Lord knows I spend enough time thinking about it.  We're meeting on Saturday to work on ideas for the February show, there's a possibility of one in December as well.  The creativity is sometimes easier in motion, and bouncing ideas around off other people

Unexpectedly have tonight free.  Rehearsal got moved to yesterday, and between that and Tuesday having been a holiday, I've lost track of days.  Got a bunch of plays staring up at me, (every time I walk into the library to return anything, I end up walking out with one more than I had, so the pile keeps growing.)  Couldn't see well enough last night to read: eye exam, left me blurry and, even five hours later, looking like a love-sick seal, with my massive pupils.  Could kinda' read the music at rehearsal, didn't seem like reason enough not to go, I've missed too many this season, so I went.  I believe the right play is Comedy of Errors, or at least that is written down in relation to nothing around it.  I do have it now.  Not sure what I'll do on Sunday.  Just not feeling Emilia from Othello.

Not feeling any of these monologues at all, but you can't wait for inspiration to move ahead, just have to keep trudging through, believing that if you do the work, eventually you will see progress.  It's not all for nothing.  I keep thinking about what J said, "If you really want it, you'll make it happen."  (I know that was issued as a challenge.  I accept that, think about it daily.)  And I do, more than most things.  Just feeling doubt.  I know I've done good work in the past, so I'm capable, just not getting to the same level at the moment.  Unsure of what would get me there.

I need to find or make more opportunities to work with other people.  The isolation isn't really working for me.

Generosity

Cracked, November 10/L Herlevi 2014

Think I just read the wrong play, can't recall what the right play was.  My audition teacher/coach gave me a Shakespeare play to look at, but I can't find where I wrote it down.  Ended up reading "All's Well That Ends Well," and a stripped down version at that (no stage directions, really.)  I'm looking for a comedic Shakespeare monologue.  I didn't present anything in class, and need to come up with something for this week, I can't remember if this is a six- or eight-week class.  If it's six, we are half-way through, and I don't have anything close to being presentable.

Went to a drop-in improv class earlier tonight.  I'm trying to come up with some clown material and am feeling blocked, or stuck.  Thought the improv might help ideas flow, or to at least get to a place where that can happen.  I thought it was just going to be he and I (which intimidated me a bit, I've never done this type of improv before, just with character work and clown, so I didn't know what to expect-no one else had shown up), and he was helping me start something.  A couple other people came in a little late, and we did story generation work.  He's a very generous teacher.  He's never done clown, but has an idea of what that would be, so was trying to work with improv techniques that would go in that direction.  I'll probably go again, maybe bring some other people along.  I'm doing a different workshop next week, more related to auditioning.  (Of course, all that is a moot point if I don't get a head shot.)

Birches, November 11/L Herlevi 2014

The temperatures have gone from almost 60 to somewhere in the 30's, with the wind.  At least it was sunny; spent most of the day outside to make the most of that.  Now I'm sitting here in my coat still, trying to warm up after waiting for the bus.  I'm not complaining, though the heat doesn't seem to make it's way into the attic.  There were people sleeping in doorways with just a single blanket.  That would be miserable, I wished I'd had extra hats or gloves or something to offer.  It'll probably be in the 20's tonight with a wind.

Internet connection is goofy, so that's all I'll write.

I am grateful for the roof over my head.

Restless and irritable

is how the show left me feeling last night.  One of only four shows I've wanted to walk out of, in the past couple of years.  Part of this is related to seeing a lot of shows lately, you're not going to like everything, though there are usually elements in every show that I liked, including most of these.  And for the record, I didn't walk out of any of them (2 theatre, 1 dance, 1 film.)  Two of those shows just needed a really good editor, one needed a deeper grasp, and with the other, the choice of  material was bad.

I sat with friends last night, we were all a bit irritable afterward and snipping at each other.  Apologies have been made.  In general, I don't care for existentialism nor theatre of the absurd (so that's my baggage), but if it's done really, really well, I can handle it.  And since it's part of the canon of modern theatre, I'll go see it.  Part of the problem I think, in doing it here, is that France in the 1950's is not the US at any time in our lifetimes.  The theatre is about lack of meaning, and the pointlessness of it all, the giving up trying, and in general, Americans historically have a "can do," optimistic, gonna try, mindset.  So, we are not steeped in a culture of nothingness, and an end of hope.  And I'm not sure how you learn it enough to get it across.  So performing it without that background, however one would acquire it, seems like a difficult task.  I asked another friend about it today, he said the point of Beckett was how to carry on, when there is no meaning.  (In general, a lot people would end up killing themselves when they lose any sense life having meaning, so I guess being able to carry on would be good.)  I enjoyed Bill Irwin performing Beckett, but I think he's spent so much time with it that he gets it, and can communicate through it.  I also think the pieces with clown elements in them, work better than the straight acting ones.  Clown inhabits that uncertainty, loss, resigned place better.

The explanation today helped, but I'll probably never really enjoy it like I do other art forms.  I'll just go to it knowing it will push my buttons, 'cos it does really get my goat.  And although, I'm never gonna like it, I'd like to understand it better.  And take it in really small doses.

Also, somehow as a result of that show, a brief sentence from a friend, a lot of walking in the sun and thinking, and watching "Before Sunrise" (seriously good dialogue, those movies), I went into an emotional void.  Things that having been bothering me for a long, long time, suddenly don't anymore.  They just don't matter anymore.

Friday

Always nice to be surprised by a show.  Went to see "Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike" by Christopher Durang at ACT earlier tonight.  And while it started slow, and I thought R. Hamilton Wright as Vanya and Marianne Owen as Sonia seemed to be hamming it up a little in Act I, they both just nailed it by the end of Act II, she with her phone conversation (and there was a cheer from the audience when she changed her mind and said "yes" to the date; it seemed that everyone wanted her to be happy, to have something in her life go good), and he in his rant against the disconnection of modern society, in the middle of the performance of his play (which was also taken off of the avant garde play in "The Seagull.")  So by the end, it ended up being one of my favorite shows of the year.

It had a stellar cast (R. Hamilton Wright, Marianne Owen, Cynthia Jones, Pamela Reed, William Poole, and Sydney Andrews) and the set, lighting, sound, costuming, all worked together in the service of telling the story, no element out of place, or competing for attention (not always the case.)

The story is Sonia, Vanya, and Masha are middle-aged siblings.  Sonia was adopted, Vanya is gay, and Masha is a movie star.  Sonia and Vanya spent all of their earlier adult years caring for their parents and have never worked outside of the home.  Sonia is miserable, Vanya writes plays.  Masha was gone all those years, but she was the one working to pay all the bills, as well as give the other two stipends.  She comes home unexpectedly for a neighbor's costume party, and brings along a boy toy named "Spike," probably half her age.  She announces that she is going to sell the house.  There is also a housekeeper named Cassandra who enters the house with sweeping negative prophecies.  (Neither she nor Spike have any connection to Chekhov.)  And Nina is the attractive niece of the neighbors.  A young, aspiring actress, that Spike discovers and invites along to the party.  Masha expects to be the center of attention, dressed as Disney's Snow White, but it is Sonia who steals the show, dressing up and pretending to be Maggie Smith on the way to the Oscars, which brings out a more social and sparkling side of her personality.

The next day, Sonia gets a phone call from someone who met her at the party and wants to ask her on a date.  If she's ever been on a date, it's been over 20 years, she eventually agrees.  Nina reads Vanya's play and convinces him to have it performed/read for the group.  She plays a molecule.  Spike starts texting in the middle of it, and when confronted for that, says he can multitask, which sets Vanya off on his rant.  Spike admits he is running off with Masha's assistant.  She sends him away.  And then relents to not selling the house.  (The abruptness of that choice wasn't really believable to me.)  It ends with them listening to the Beatles.

I think my enjoyment of it was (fortuitously) increased by my having read, and seen, so much Chekhov lately.  And while it was loosely based on Chekhov's writings, there were a lot of references: the cherry orchard, the thought of losing the family home, the play, "Uncle Vanya," the character of Nina, the idleness, the unhappiness, etc., as well as some direct lines from "The Three Sisters."  So, that was a nice coincidence.

Speaking of Chekhov, I'm halfway through the Lydia Avilov book.  It's interesting, though a bit of a clunky translation (can't always tell who is speaking.)  Also, partially through my third (and final for now) reading of a translation of "The Three Sisters," this one by Richard Nelson.  I prefer the McGuinness and the Friel translations.  Apparently, Mamet also did one, but I'm on to other things after this one.

Missed a show I had a ticket for that started at 11 pm.  I'd wanted to go, but I'm tired, and didn't feel like waiting for a bus on 3rd Ave at 1 am.  (It was 60 different, 60 second acts.  Really wanted to see what people come up with for one minute of performance time.)  Maybe next year.

Torrents

Rainbow, November 6/L Herlevi 2014

Looking out the window I saw a rainbow, ran out to take a picture of it, it started to rain.  Finished getting dressed and out the door, raining harder, standing water in the streets.  By the time I got off of the bus, it was torrents, wind pushing it uphill in gusts, rivers in the streets.  No where to step to avoid the standing water.  Drenched by the time I got into work.  Ever grateful for the radiator, drying off the dress, and reminding myself that aside from an earthquake or a blizzard, there are other reasons to keep an extra set of clothes at work. 

Emergency Shoes, October 31/L Herlevi 2014

The rain continued to be interspersed with bright blue sky, sunny and breezy, as if nothing had ever happened.  Wringing it all out of its system to feel better, like a massive mood swing.  We are in between things.

(I have no idea why the formatting did this.)

In a break in the weather, ran to the library and traded in one Chekhov for three others.  Wild Honey, a short play anthology, and a book called Chekhov in My Life by Lydia Avilov.  Seeing one more Chekhov-based work and then two more Beckett, and then I don't know what's going on with me...I can't keep track any more.  It's all on one calendar, except all the singing gigs.

Re-read Frankie and Johnnie during an idle spell.  Not sure if I'll keep the monologue, though I like the play.  Thinking about "driving action," not sure it's strong enough.  There are a couple other sections I might try to make a monologue out of, but they change the subject a lot.  Might look at Riches, too, since I already did a lot of character work on her.  I need something ready by class.  Trying to come up with clown ideas, too, I have some, but they are vague at the moment, need to be worked.

At any rate, trying to focus on what I can control (as our audition teacher keeps saying, but applies to life as well), and to lessen worrying about what I can't.  Easier said than done, the part that hurts is stubbornly holding onto that.  Staring at the lack and making it seem bigger than what is there.  I'm aware of the good.

Oh, darkness of approaching winter

Still in a funk.  It's kinda' a perfect storm of gloomy weather, not eating enough, not sleeping enough, the sudden earlier onset of darkness caused by the time change, and not feeling like I'm good at anything because I've been trying to learn a lot of things over the past couple of years, and I don't feel like I'm progressing, and I'm not sure how to change how I'm approaching it, and I'm feeling a little isolated, among other things, though, that's a lot in itself.  It'll pass.  I'll tell people, have already told people.  I won't pretend like it's not there.  Saying it out loud takes away its power.

The courage to do any of this is good, it's just the being stuck at a point that I'm having trouble moving beyond that's frustrating.  It seems to happen a lot, it did with photography as well, and I still haven't named the barrier, or answered "why?"  Actually, now that I think about it, another reason I took the (recent) first acting class (aside from wanting to be a performer) was to try to work around a block I had been having with photography.  I figured whatever was getting in the way of moving forward could be addressed from a different perspective.  It wasn't an issue of skill, (though it is now with acting , and dancing, which require practice) but rather a wall, beyond which I'm not following through.  We all have those, thoughts that get in the way.  Thoughts we aren't always aware we have, buried so far down in our being we take them as truths. But if they keep clipping our wings (as someone else put it today), they keep us from pursuing our lives.  They aren't true, just some message someone gave us long ago, doesn't matter why, only that we believed it, buried it, and lived as if it were true.  (I'm referring to judgments, the ones that bully us in our heads.)

I have a free night, already picked up my mail, and walked home, the long way.  It was peaceful.  The rain had stopped by then, and the standing water had begun receding.  It was very quiet.  Highlights were passing two separate cars getting jumped (must be the time change, traffic's been awful the last couple of days, too) and a raccoon crossing someone's yard, right as I turned on my street.  Otherwise, just lost in my own thoughts.

Looking forward to reading (I really love reading Dickens.)  Or watching a movie.  Working on the monologues, too.  I always feel funny saying them out loud at home: I have housemates...they do all know about the acting thing, though.

Less than two months until it gets lighter again.  And while I like all the holiday decorations, winters get harder every year.

Just ate way too much salt...olives, cheese, and crackers.  Feeling parched.

Really should be sleeping

Another night of Chekhov (three short stories and a short play), and I'm exhausted.  Not from the Chekhov, just haven't been sleeping enough.  I'll have to read those now, too.

Finished the second version of The Three Sisters, and seem to have misplaced Othello.  I could borrow another copy, but I think I'll work on one of the contemporary monologues in class this week, instead.  I've been having trouble figuring out the motivation for one, and could use new eyes on it.  Or choose a different monologue from the play where intentions are more clear.  I mean, she wants him to leave here, but there are a lot of different ways to say that or mean that; and I haven't been able to get clear on the how.  She doesn't want him to go away forever, just right now.  He doesn't seem to really have boundaries, or get hers.

What keeps us from waking up even when we know it would be a good thing to do?  What makes us think anything will ever change when day after day things play out the same?  There probably is a place you could let yourself be fulfilled, less tortured, loved...what keeps us from going?

Fk.  It's all just making me lose faith in myself, that things will ever change, or that I'm anything more than a dilettante.  Cure for that is to work, but I need to find a new way of doing that, 'cos what I'm doing now isn't making any difference.  I feel like I'm stagnating or sliding backward.  I'm just feeling out of my league.

Fail better.  Fail more.

Tuesday-Talking out loud

My eyes are blurry from getting olive oil in them.  (Used it to remove mascara.)  Between that and the fact that I really need reading glasses, I had a difficult time filling in the voting bubbles neatly.  The trees are blowing about, and the sky is lightening, I should probably leave soon.  I like that the mornings are brighter, but not that it's dark when I get off of work.  Two more months and the days get lighter again.

I think I'll start asking my classmates for more feedback on the monologues, I sometimes probably offer too much, but the way the class is set up, seems to provide for that.  Normally, you never would, but I find it helpful to see what is hitting someone else, and if they have suggestions of things to consider, I'd like that information to work with.  (Especially with the Shakespeare.)  I find the feedback loop of performer asking or telling what they see the reason for the monologue is, and then the response, etc, great for distillation and clarification of why you have to say this now, and what change you want, helpful.  I have trouble seeing that in my own work, I suppose it's the lack of distance, plus unless you film it, you can't actually see what you are doing (physically.) If there is an audience there, why not ask what they see (both physically, and mind pictures)?

And watching the other people work, and hearing the notes and the feedback, is also useful.  The counterpart monologue to mine got run again, and figuring out what he is really saying is helpful to me, it's one of our last contacts before mine.  (I think he's telling me he loves me, and that I deserve better in life.)  Also, someone did a piece from "Orange Flower Water," and hearing the discussion and feedback of the text and the character made me like it just a little (hated it when I read it last year.)  I can better see the character's frailty and loss, and so can relate to why she did what she did, even if there really are no excuses.

My Shakespeare monologue just doubled in length, I'll need to do some research for that one.

Time to go to work.

Beautiful

Went to another Chekhov show tonight, "The Three Sisters," Directed/Adapted by Paul Budraitis, and performed by the senior ensemble at Cornish.  It opened last night.  I missed the 7 pm bus, caught the next one, which was running late, and got dropped off no where near the theatre with 10 minutes to curtain.  Ran.  Made it, the ushers came in to sit right behind me, but then it didn't end up starting for five or ten minutes after that.  I'm glad I made it, it's only playing two weekends, and this was the only night I was free.

Beautiful staging.  Minimalist, three-dimensional metal outline of rooms in the house, everyone always on stage, and when they weren't in the scene, wearing big masks over their heads.  I had seen a photo of that earlier, and was wondering if they were going to perform the whole play that way, and wondering how the sound would carry...they played the scenes without them, sometimes they did background vocalizations through them, which created a subdued sound dynamic under the scene being played, which I liked.  I'm still not sure "why" the masks, but I liked them.  I love the staging particularly in Act IV, both with the house shrinking to a box (or a cage) for the sisters (the shrinking of possibilities at that moment?), and the way the duel was staged, the latter of which was unexpected, and so worked really well.  (Go see it if you are in town.)

He definitely has a style: a sense of uneasiness; sound, lighting, mood, set design, staging: dark, minimalist, touching a void; I would definitely recognize his work, even if I didn't see his name on it.  When I saw that show, "Cold, Empty, Terrible," last week, it was so much like his, that I wondered if they'd seen his work.  Kept thinking, "this reminds me of Paul," throughout the whole thing.  (Take that as you will, but there was hardly any dialogue, and not a lot of explanation to hang onto...mind wanders, makes associations.)

I connected more with the play the further along it went, there was more connection to the words, between the actors, and I think with the audience, in Act IV than in Act I, plus, it's the culmination of everything: all they've been talking about "going back Moscow," everything you dream life would turn out to be, or tried to force into being, comes to fruition, and the realization that you don't get your dream, but you carry on (like Nina in "the Seagull.")  Up until that point, life would happen "tomorrow", whenever they could return to "Moscow," and so they stagnate in anticipation of that day, some future when life would be better.  But in Act IV, it comes into "Now." (Spoiler alert, they never return to Moscow, but they do emerge from the box.)

It's late.  I'd like to spend more time with this play.  When I read it, I think, "I want to come back to this," and I thought that tonight as well (and also during "The Man Who Could Forget Anything" show.)  I feel like there's a lot I want to think deeper about, but because I'm also trying to read through it, it stays on the surface.  Things like: what the characters represent, both in context of the play, and in the current climate; what was going on in Russia at the time; cultural context; the idea of finding meaning in doing work; the way Natasha treats people; thoughts about happiness and fulfillment; the difference in mentalities of Russian thought vs US thought and how that affects what you believe your life can be; evolution, and the future, among others.

Maybe I'll write more later, or edit for coherency.  I still have music and a monologue to get solid by tomorrow.  But I liked the show.

Ooh, wait.  Time change, get an extra hour.

Show Poster, Oct 31/L Herlevi  2014

Starting is always half the battle

In the fading light, the persimmons looked orange so I picked them.  Once I got home and under the house lights, they were in fact, fairly green.  I should've waited until the leaves fell, but the squirrels have been getting the best of them, leaving half-eaten fruit still hanging from the branches, and I wanted one, too.

Just started two more books: "An Acrobat of the Heart," by Stephen Wangh, and "Improvisation for the Theatre," by Viola Spolin.  I'm looking for physical exercises, both for group and solo work, to help with developing something for the show, and also for personal scene/monologue work.  I've lost track of how many books I am currently "reading," should finish something, if only for a sense of closure. (And to return some of them.)

Thoughts on jealousy and insecurity: Feed it into the work.  Guess these arise as they will, but they are more destructive when left to spin and ponder, rather than used as fuel for action, growth, or...something.  If jealousy is spawned because I'm not doing more myself, then I guess that's fuel for doing something rather than stewing.  It's hard not to compare myself and wonder in all the ways I lack, that I'm not enough...and I don't even know what "enough" would be.  If I'm not, I'm not, and if I think too much about it, I'll lose sight of me, as I actually am, as opposed to who I would need to be to be deemed worthy in someone else's eyes.  People see what they see, and want what they want, it's futile to spend too much time trying to change it, or change myself to fit that.  I can only change my own response, which I do (sometimes grudgingly), I can't control anything else, nor should I want to.  But sometimes I do.  Sometimes I give too much weight to what I believe other people think instead of figuring out how to be most authentically myself.  And authenticity is more important than being liked.  (And yet, we all want to be liked...or rather, loved.)  Yeah.

Semi-related note, (if only in my head, but related to the idea of action or movement) I was thinking about how we are often exactly where we need to be, when we need to be.  And when you look back you can see it, or if you're lucky, you'll realize it in that moment.  Trusting that if you start moving, even if you do not know exactly where you are going, cannot see the endpoint, life has a way of opening up for you, if only one footstep at a time.  On the Camino (pilgrimage) forums, people talk about this all the time, how the "road walks you."  How you are where you need to be, when you need to be there.  It happens in our everyday lives, too, it's just easier to see when things are stripped down to basics.  I've been thinking about this lately because I've been hyper-aware of it, that I was doing what I needed to be doing, at the right time.

It's letting go of believing we have to control everything.  It's opening up to chance.  It's a form of grace.

Makes me think of Dr. Seuss, October 27/L Herlevi 2014

Not particularly coherent

My nose has been extra sensitive today, so many things just extra foul: old garbage, pea soup and coffee breathe, urine, etc., waiting for the remnants of the hurricane to wash it away, but so far, the rains have held back.

Been having back issues for the past week, sometime in the middle of the night, the pain went into the top of my neck and woke me up.  Never did go back to sleep, had trouble finding any position that didn't scream out.  Went to get a massage mid-morning, she gave me an extra half hour, but by this evening, the stiffness was creeping in again, though it doesn't hurt quite so much.  This has all made me rather tired.

Went to go see Bill Irwin tonight as part of the "Beckett Fest" happening around town.  He made me think about how one approaches work (or art of any type) at different stages in your life.  What you find at 20 is not what you find at 50 and not what you find at 80.  He also talked about the climate you are living in and how that would affect how you play it as well as how the audience receives it.  And since he's a physical actor, he was asked how that informed approaching such heady work.  I think that's when he talked about working with the late Herbert Blau, he mentioned two things, which I wanted to write down, but other things happened, so by the time I was able to, I'd mostly forgotten, but I think it had to do with: 1) everything is happening right now; and 2) imagination is visceral (which works for me.)  I think #1 was the performance is about you and the audience in this space and moment; and #2 being that sometimes ideas are better expressed through the physical rather than through the thinking or the words.

Also, in the middle of his talk/performance I thought..."and this is all for men, I don't get to know the work at the same level, because it wasn't written for women to perform." ("Endgame," "Waiting for Godot," though he did write women characters into other plays, just not the ones talked about tonight.)  It's true enough, though I'm not sure why that went through my head at that moment.

On the way home, I began to reread Act IV of Othello.  Prep work for the monologue...should get around to finishing the second version of the Chekhov, too, but trying to get some sleep for now.

Sunday

We bury our meaning under a mountain of words, and then spend the rest of the time trying to get back to the truth.

In auditioning class, the fear of performing for others rears its head, though I guess we all are in the same boat to some extent.  Forced myself to do mine a second time for feedback.  Did not back out even though I wanted to, the whole point being to get better, and if you don't risk anything, nothing changes.  I'm understanding the meaning of "driving action," what is the line going through the whole monologue?  Why do you say what you say, to whom you say it to, right now?  I ended my working session early, as I've got a lot of work to do, starting with the internal stuff, and I wasn't going to hit it today, but I do have a sense now of where I'm going.  Think I need to do the classical monologue next time, it will need more work, since I've never studied Shakespeare.

Interesting coincidence in class, the man who went up before me happened to be using the monologue that my character is referring to when I speak.  I asked him about it later, if he'd gotten the part, he said that it wasn't from the audition (the one I just did), but rather that he'd found it online.  Still, what were the odds of him doing the monologue I'm responding to right before me?  Sadly, I'm not sure I let it help me much.

The instructor gave the note (to someone else) to forget all the "beats" and strong acting choices you made and just follow the driving action.  Make the audience forget that they are "watching" a show, and have them believe in the story.  Whomever the audience is, it's the first time they are hearing it, regardless of how many times you've told it: invite them in.

Much to consider.  Know what I'm after, not sure how to get there.

Guess I should watch "Hedda Gabler" now...nice light-hearted evening.

I'm cold from waiting for the bus.  It's been warm for so long, I'm in denial that there is a winter, and it lies before me.