Finally sold off the books just to not have them. Waiting for someone to come buy the chair. All morning Spot was cawing at me, sitting on the eave and watching me wash stuff in the kitchen sink. I tried to feed him, but he didn't seem to want that. Kinda' like me, I've barely been able to force down one meal a day for the past few weeks...can't eat when I'm stressed out (I believe that is the only time I can't eat) and I've been stressed out for long while. Been running on caffeine. It'll be good to know I'm out of here at midnight.
Back to packing. And to figure out a script for tomorrow.
Hmmm. Maybe I should just do one thing at a time and finish it; I'm driving myself nuts thinking about everything that needs to get done..most important is to get out of here.
I am way more ruthless in getting rid of stuff than I ever have been before...why did I keep all of this?
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Lot to get done
Oh, god, this is going to take longer than I'd planned. I rented an SUV this morning, they let me have it for the price of a car, and have only managed to make one trip. There isn't any street parking, so I had to block an alley. It's gonna take a while. Have barely made a dent. I guess two of the bookshelves are mostly empty. A couple of people have offered to help tomorrow. I don't know what I'm gonna do with the cabinet. Maybe I'll just list it for free and leave it in the yard. Between the sheer amount of work in class, the concerts two weekends in a row and moving, I feel like I'm just about to drown. I keep thinking that I'm done with something, but something else needs to be done. There's never time to breathe.
Spot follows me from the car to the house to the car to the house. I'm not moving that far away, in the same zip code, I suppose a crow could figure it out. Makes me kinda' sad. I really like the crow visits: it's not that there aren't other crows, it's just this one is an individual that has bonded with me. There was one at the bus stop, too. And while I waited, a man walked up, walked behind the shelter, then in front of where I was and then back the way he came and disappeared. Odd.
We still haven't figured out what scene (or with whom) we are doing, just four of us now (a different four.) I never actually said I wouldn't do "F and J" only that I had worked on the play last year, earlier section, and it would be nice to work on something different. I like it. Now she said that I can look at "Proof" with another woman, or "the Woolgatherer." We have class again on Thursday and have to have decided by then.
I've had a tightness somewhere between my heart and my solar plexus all day (or perhaps all month), it has released a little now that I know I actually have a key to the room. I tried to eat earlier but really couldn't...for whatever reason, moving causes me more stress than any other "life event." The next closest is being in a (verbal) fight or breaking up with someone. It will be what it will be, but I hope it's good.
Spot follows me from the car to the house to the car to the house. I'm not moving that far away, in the same zip code, I suppose a crow could figure it out. Makes me kinda' sad. I really like the crow visits: it's not that there aren't other crows, it's just this one is an individual that has bonded with me. There was one at the bus stop, too. And while I waited, a man walked up, walked behind the shelter, then in front of where I was and then back the way he came and disappeared. Odd.
We still haven't figured out what scene (or with whom) we are doing, just four of us now (a different four.) I never actually said I wouldn't do "F and J" only that I had worked on the play last year, earlier section, and it would be nice to work on something different. I like it. Now she said that I can look at "Proof" with another woman, or "the Woolgatherer." We have class again on Thursday and have to have decided by then.
I've had a tightness somewhere between my heart and my solar plexus all day (or perhaps all month), it has released a little now that I know I actually have a key to the room. I tried to eat earlier but really couldn't...for whatever reason, moving causes me more stress than any other "life event." The next closest is being in a (verbal) fight or breaking up with someone. It will be what it will be, but I hope it's good.
Monday, April 28, 2014
Fingers crossed
Hope springs eternal. Looking at two places today and one tomorrow. Cutting it close, hoping for the best. I've now taken time off of work through Wednesday. Fingers crossed that it will all work out, all in the same general neighborhood, one that would be convenient and on bus lines, so nothing I have to contract myself for. I won't have to "make it work." That's good thing.
A couple people mentioned that they'd give me the directions for the meditation, and there's a chance we will do the second half of it at some point. I want the experience, it seemed like people got a lot out of it. I think I might have just been dehydrated (and under a lot of stress) or something, though I didn't have a headache. The nursery rhymes are done now, they were pretty fun, and the Julie/Hedda scene work is finished tomorrow and then we go work on the final scenes. Not sure what I'm doing yet. Read a cutting last night, and have two more plays to read. There are four of us that have to agree on who is working with whom and what that will be. I feel a bit like I got thrown in the middle of someone else's date, it's awkward. (Two of the four had already agreed to work together.)
Well, signed a lease. I hope it works out alright. The location is great. (Signing anything makes me nervous; I'm always weird about moving.) I feel unsettled. Time was short.
No rehearsal tonight.
A couple people mentioned that they'd give me the directions for the meditation, and there's a chance we will do the second half of it at some point. I want the experience, it seemed like people got a lot out of it. I think I might have just been dehydrated (and under a lot of stress) or something, though I didn't have a headache. The nursery rhymes are done now, they were pretty fun, and the Julie/Hedda scene work is finished tomorrow and then we go work on the final scenes. Not sure what I'm doing yet. Read a cutting last night, and have two more plays to read. There are four of us that have to agree on who is working with whom and what that will be. I feel a bit like I got thrown in the middle of someone else's date, it's awkward. (Two of the four had already agreed to work together.)
Well, signed a lease. I hope it works out alright. The location is great. (Signing anything makes me nervous; I'm always weird about moving.) I feel unsettled. Time was short.
No rehearsal tonight.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Sunday, a bit of a mess
I was looking forward to doing the meditation today in class, but she mentioned it might be strenuous and I just fainted (!) at my concert earlier today. Well, okay, I could feel it coming on, and I caught myself and sat in a chair that was in front of me, and someone brought me some water. I still feel sick to my stomach, but I have color in my face again, apparently, I didn't. I only sat out for two songs, sang the last one. I've been kinda' mood-swingy all day, maybe it's just low blood sugar, but everything is making me cry. Or anemia. My diet's been awful the past month or so. The dresses are hot, and the room was overly warm. Everyone was so nice. I was weepy. Still a little weepy. (I used to faint more when I was a vegetarian, it's been 20 years or so, and I'm not super worried about it. But I need to take better care of myself.)
I should work on the Julie script, and pack more...figure out how to make myself look like a rabbit.
The first picture is from last Sunday. The second is at Seattle Center, yesterday, killing time before the workshop (got a caricature done, too, looks nothing like me, except the clothing.)
There are annoying loud people stomping around the house, trying all the doors. Hmmm. We're not out yet. Oh, apparently, they have an open house they didn't tell us about. We were all surprised by it.
I should work on the Julie script, and pack more...figure out how to make myself look like a rabbit.
The first picture is from last Sunday. The second is at Seattle Center, yesterday, killing time before the workshop (got a caricature done, too, looks nothing like me, except the clothing.)
There are annoying loud people stomping around the house, trying all the doors. Hmmm. We're not out yet. Oh, apparently, they have an open house they didn't tell us about. We were all surprised by it.
 |
| Complete rest/L Herlevi 2014 |
 |
| Low-lying rainbow/L Herlevi 2014 |
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Waiting
Waiting to find out when and where rehearsal is and slightly freaking out about being without a place to live (will have to put everything in storage and couch surf...I don't like doing it, I feel like it can put a strain on relationships. In general, it makes me feel too needy, but am beyond grateful that the option exists. I have good people in my life. I know this.) The thing is, I've worked for the State for the past 14 years. I work full time. I'm at the top of my pay scale (which admittedly, is not particularly high) and I can't find a place to live. There are alot of people who make less than I do, we are all competing for a dwindling supply of affordability. Studios are around $800-1000. Someone showing a house told me he'd met close to 100 people. I have to find someone that wants me to live there. I probably could have moved into that house, but it's not a safe neighborhood at night, and there was dog crap everywhere, hard to avoid stepping in it if you went outside, which is really off-putting to me and it's just a sign of a lack of responsibility that makes me wonder how it translates day to day. Maybe not at all, maybe a lot. Send out more contacts. (The place I looked at yesterday was in a great location, though dirty (that's not a deal-breaker), but I haven't heard back since I called the landlord last night.) With the exception of being a bit of a fridge hog, I'm a good catch as a housemate, and that's something I can reign in, and my good qualities (responsible, friendly, fair, pay bills on time, good conversationalist, I like people, etc.) more than make up for that.
Better things. I got someone to take over the compost coordination at the garden and I took on a different project, more responsibility but it doesn't involve as much of strain on my wrist. And the performance workshop earlier today was great. One of the exercises was similar to one we did on the very first day of Meisner. Where someone tells a story for 45 seconds, and then someone else goes up and tells what they heard, including any physicality that stood out, and then the original person re-did it today (in Meisner we did a longer version, each person speaking for two minutes, and then a full two-minute playback by an observer) including the emphasis of any gestures that may have been picked up by the other people (we had two or three people doing a playback for each storyteller.) I think it's an Anna Deavere Smith exercise. We also did an exercise where we each told a 30-second story about our favorite picture of our self, and then with each proceeding round, re-told our story using elements of other people's stories, and then interrupting "that's a beautiful story, but in my picture..." It was good. Always helpful to actually do something as opposed to getting lost in my head thinking about it and making up catastrophes or whatever. All of which made me think again about the idea that you cannot play the end of something, even if you know how it ends, you have to live in the moment. If you play the end, you never take chances. Sure it might end badly, but you get something out of it anyway, and it could be the most true, beautiful, wonderful experience if you let it be, but you're so afraid of (or anticipating) the ending that you never start. And that's true in life as well as on the stage. You have to take a chance on what's in front of you now. You have to connect to what's going on right now, not what might happen. (I am often caught here.) The concept's been coming up in class now that we are working more with text.
The last thing was the actual game of "Winners and Losers." We ran out of time before I got to go. I was slightly afraid to go, but also disappointed that I didn't get to experience it, though at least they used a few of my ideas. One of my former teachers was a participant in the workshop, made me slightly self-conscious, he's at a much further level than I am, and I am at times, intimidated. Wanted to say, "hi" but stupidly didn't because I couldn't make eye contact (which felt deliberate) and didn't feel like being pushy (sometimes we joke around, sometimes we ignore each other. That's equally my fault and I wish it weren't. Sad truth, I frustrate myself sometimes, I can usually talk to almost anyone.) Sat next to him and was in a group with him, too. Kinda' wanted to debate him in the game, but also intimidated there as well: he really plays to win. (Which was the point.) I would've liked to have seen if I could have stood up to it, I wasn't sure. And now I don't know. (And I kinda' feel like the loser in the game since I didn't play.)
Need to do something, call, rehearse...pack.
Later. As far as rehearsals go, it's like I've never seen a script before. Too distracted, need to really spend some time with this. Get the bad out of the system. We'll meet again before we do these again. Next class is a long active meditation and the nursery rhyme thing. Oh, I should practice for that.
Cheers.
Better things. I got someone to take over the compost coordination at the garden and I took on a different project, more responsibility but it doesn't involve as much of strain on my wrist. And the performance workshop earlier today was great. One of the exercises was similar to one we did on the very first day of Meisner. Where someone tells a story for 45 seconds, and then someone else goes up and tells what they heard, including any physicality that stood out, and then the original person re-did it today (in Meisner we did a longer version, each person speaking for two minutes, and then a full two-minute playback by an observer) including the emphasis of any gestures that may have been picked up by the other people (we had two or three people doing a playback for each storyteller.) I think it's an Anna Deavere Smith exercise. We also did an exercise where we each told a 30-second story about our favorite picture of our self, and then with each proceeding round, re-told our story using elements of other people's stories, and then interrupting "that's a beautiful story, but in my picture..." It was good. Always helpful to actually do something as opposed to getting lost in my head thinking about it and making up catastrophes or whatever. All of which made me think again about the idea that you cannot play the end of something, even if you know how it ends, you have to live in the moment. If you play the end, you never take chances. Sure it might end badly, but you get something out of it anyway, and it could be the most true, beautiful, wonderful experience if you let it be, but you're so afraid of (or anticipating) the ending that you never start. And that's true in life as well as on the stage. You have to take a chance on what's in front of you now. You have to connect to what's going on right now, not what might happen. (I am often caught here.) The concept's been coming up in class now that we are working more with text.
The last thing was the actual game of "Winners and Losers." We ran out of time before I got to go. I was slightly afraid to go, but also disappointed that I didn't get to experience it, though at least they used a few of my ideas. One of my former teachers was a participant in the workshop, made me slightly self-conscious, he's at a much further level than I am, and I am at times, intimidated. Wanted to say, "hi" but stupidly didn't because I couldn't make eye contact (which felt deliberate) and didn't feel like being pushy (sometimes we joke around, sometimes we ignore each other. That's equally my fault and I wish it weren't. Sad truth, I frustrate myself sometimes, I can usually talk to almost anyone.) Sat next to him and was in a group with him, too. Kinda' wanted to debate him in the game, but also intimidated there as well: he really plays to win. (Which was the point.) I would've liked to have seen if I could have stood up to it, I wasn't sure. And now I don't know. (And I kinda' feel like the loser in the game since I didn't play.)
Need to do something, call, rehearse...pack.
Later. As far as rehearsals go, it's like I've never seen a script before. Too distracted, need to really spend some time with this. Get the bad out of the system. We'll meet again before we do these again. Next class is a long active meditation and the nursery rhyme thing. Oh, I should practice for that.
Cheers.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Friday off
Somewhere along the line, I must've become an optimist. Spent almost two hours visiting at a house last night, towards the end of it the woman mentions that she's pretty sure they are going to ask someone else to move in. Guess she liked me as a human being? It was a nice place, apparently not the right one. Went out and saw another place today, better location bus wise. Got my fingers crossed: though I don't see wherever I end up right now as being super long term. Just a feeling I have. But I hope they let me move in. He's meeting people today and tomorrow and then the people he thinks would be a good fit have to be vetted through the landlord...might take a while.
Freaking out a little, but also feel really good this afternoon. I took the day off and it's a super pleasant feeling to be free on a Friday afternoon. The sun is warm, the breeze is cool, the sky is blue with massive white clouds pushing across. The smaller things in my life are working better than smoothly, and I'm grateful. Now if only I had a place to live.
Spent several hours purging documents while waiting for the oven's self-cleaning cycle to run: I found a shredding service. Now I'm just waiting for my scene partner to get back to me, but if he doesn't I'm going to go recycle all my old textbooks. (Again, hadn't known what to do with them, and still was carrying the idea that I was going to use them again. But I'm not.) Felt pangs of nostalgia while walking through the grocery store, which is kinda' sad as I'm only moving to a different neighborhood, it's not like I'm moving to another country. And I always end up liking wherever it is I move to because it's new to me.
I want to get rid of more stuff and I still have the records. Now that I have a reason to see him, I never do. (He would not be the person I did the do-over exercise on. If I needed to, I could speak my mind to him, but I don't need to. I just want to return the records...and possibly borrow his truck.)
Oh, good (?), no rehearsal tonight. Going to a friend's thesis concert later, I like his compositions and I need to get out of the house for a while.
The concert was great, mentioned to a friend that I needed a place to live and she said she'd ask around, which is kind. Came home and contacted more places that have just shown up. I probably just have to take something that's safe and keep looking for something ideal. I have been looking for a month.
Ciao.
Freaking out a little, but also feel really good this afternoon. I took the day off and it's a super pleasant feeling to be free on a Friday afternoon. The sun is warm, the breeze is cool, the sky is blue with massive white clouds pushing across. The smaller things in my life are working better than smoothly, and I'm grateful. Now if only I had a place to live.
Spent several hours purging documents while waiting for the oven's self-cleaning cycle to run: I found a shredding service. Now I'm just waiting for my scene partner to get back to me, but if he doesn't I'm going to go recycle all my old textbooks. (Again, hadn't known what to do with them, and still was carrying the idea that I was going to use them again. But I'm not.) Felt pangs of nostalgia while walking through the grocery store, which is kinda' sad as I'm only moving to a different neighborhood, it's not like I'm moving to another country. And I always end up liking wherever it is I move to because it's new to me.
I want to get rid of more stuff and I still have the records. Now that I have a reason to see him, I never do. (He would not be the person I did the do-over exercise on. If I needed to, I could speak my mind to him, but I don't need to. I just want to return the records...and possibly borrow his truck.)
Oh, good (?), no rehearsal tonight. Going to a friend's thesis concert later, I like his compositions and I need to get out of the house for a while.
The concert was great, mentioned to a friend that I needed a place to live and she said she'd ask around, which is kind. Came home and contacted more places that have just shown up. I probably just have to take something that's safe and keep looking for something ideal. I have been looking for a month.
Ciao.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Thursday
Had a rehearsal for the nursery rhyme thing after work last night and then went to a show at On The Boards, a friend had mentioned it earlier in the day and another friend had given me a comp ticket that I needed to use. It was a performance piece with two men, presumably friends, throwing out a subject and then deciding if it was a "winner" or a "loser" and discussing why they thought that. By the end it gets viciously personal, though I won't say about what, and it ends at a point of unresolved tension. I was telling one of my colleagues that I kinda' wished they'd just punched each other (or I coulda' punched one of them...in reality, I never would, but I kinda' wanted to), something to release the tension. And we were saying to each other that we like things resolved in theatre, but then I thought, yeah, but to not resolve it is more like life...it's how we are: We walk away. We leave things unresolved. We kill relationships because we need to be right. We kill good relationships because we need to be right, or for the inability to apologize or forgive. (Part of liking resolution on stage, I suppose, is that we can see how it could've been. As if there were a do-over for what's unresolved in our memories.) How do you do that night after night? They must resolve it somehow, or you'd just end up avoiding or grudgingly acknowledging each other. And yet, there is also something liberating in being able to be forthright in a relationship and still retain the friendship...you should be able to express yourself, and be able to live with disagreement and the differences between you and still love each other.
Anyway, I'm curious how it's different each night. There must be improv in there with set points that they hit. There was also an insightful write up about the performance in the program (!) (So, yea!)
There's a workshop with the performers on Saturday, that I signed up for (I have another commitment in the morning anyway.) And after the show I was thinking, "Do I still want to go?" Today, "Yes, I do." It's an active workshop and I want to learn from as many people as possible, and to work on freeing myself up to generating new ideas, to be actively creative.
Seven days. Shit.
Anyway, I'm curious how it's different each night. There must be improv in there with set points that they hit. There was also an insightful write up about the performance in the program (!) (So, yea!)
There's a workshop with the performers on Saturday, that I signed up for (I have another commitment in the morning anyway.) And after the show I was thinking, "Do I still want to go?" Today, "Yes, I do." It's an active workshop and I want to learn from as many people as possible, and to work on freeing myself up to generating new ideas, to be actively creative.
Seven days. Shit.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Wednesday, still hopeful
Need to rehearse a lot slower (and need more rehearsal.) I feel sometimes like I'm just desperately trying to hold on to a speeding train, missing at the beats and nuances. Intellectually, I know it's a game of chicken, I know every new beat is upping the ante in that game, but didn't hit any of it last night. Ugh, and I've never been good at the whole sexy seduction thing...practice: I keep getting roles that require it.
Found a place where I could live, maybe. Tried to be as open in my inquiry as possible, so they at least respond. (For every ten ads I answer I get one or two replies, I know everyone is overwhelmed, so, I'm trying to stand out more.) Slightly more rules (which as an adult, I really don't like, though, I understand common courtesy) than I would like to live under (feel like I always have to hide or contract part of myself, which I'm tired of doing), and odd comments on the phone ("a religious fanatic wouldn't want to live here"-I'm not, but it's an odd, random comment not related to rest of conversation, so why mention it?) but still a possibility. I'll see it tomorrow. Frees up tonight to rehearse. The right place must be out there...whole lotta weird (beyond quirky) ones. (The place with the carcass on the porch, the cold basement room without real privacy for $600...There was a place I really should've turned in an application for, but it seemed like it woulda' been lonely, and I want a more social household.) Someone called me back, for an ad that's posted now, and mentioned it's better to look in July...um, sure, but not helpful. I might have to sublet for the summer. Oh, my god. It's a little disheartening.
Found a place where I could live, maybe. Tried to be as open in my inquiry as possible, so they at least respond. (For every ten ads I answer I get one or two replies, I know everyone is overwhelmed, so, I'm trying to stand out more.) Slightly more rules (which as an adult, I really don't like, though, I understand common courtesy) than I would like to live under (feel like I always have to hide or contract part of myself, which I'm tired of doing), and odd comments on the phone ("a religious fanatic wouldn't want to live here"-I'm not, but it's an odd, random comment not related to rest of conversation, so why mention it?) but still a possibility. I'll see it tomorrow. Frees up tonight to rehearse. The right place must be out there...whole lotta weird (beyond quirky) ones. (The place with the carcass on the porch, the cold basement room without real privacy for $600...There was a place I really should've turned in an application for, but it seemed like it woulda' been lonely, and I want a more social household.) Someone called me back, for an ad that's posted now, and mentioned it's better to look in July...um, sure, but not helpful. I might have to sublet for the summer. Oh, my god. It's a little disheartening.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Moving households
The sweet metallic ozone-y scent rises from the pavement as the rains begin. And it's cold again.
Cleaning house and letting go. I stare down six (at least) years of good intentions then shut my eyes and let them go. Move on. The chemistry and math notes and the thoughts of med school that weren't quite my dreams. Gone. My heart was never enough in it to make it happen. Whenever I thought about med school, I found excuses. I found emptiness in my heart. Not my calling. When I decided (for real) to go to Spain, I made it happen. When I decided I wanted to study theatre seriously last year, I found a way to make that happen.
The projects I was gonna work on but never got around to: Gone. The food I felt guilty for wasting. Gone. The clothes I held onto for sentimental reasons. Gone. The papers I wrote for class. Gone. The memory is in me and not in any object anymore. None of these define me. They are only objects, dreams of who I will never be, that are festering, incomplete, ignored, shoved in boxes and in corners. Taking up space. Time to choose and move on. And the objects that represent the things I did become...they can go, too: already a part of me. All of this baggage I don't want to take with me. I don't want to move it, or carry it, or store it anymore.
I woke up ready to let it all go, less traumatic, less guilt today. The pleasures of moving.
I don't have a place yet, but I still have to move.
Cleaning house and letting go. I stare down six (at least) years of good intentions then shut my eyes and let them go. Move on. The chemistry and math notes and the thoughts of med school that weren't quite my dreams. Gone. My heart was never enough in it to make it happen. Whenever I thought about med school, I found excuses. I found emptiness in my heart. Not my calling. When I decided (for real) to go to Spain, I made it happen. When I decided I wanted to study theatre seriously last year, I found a way to make that happen.
The projects I was gonna work on but never got around to: Gone. The food I felt guilty for wasting. Gone. The clothes I held onto for sentimental reasons. Gone. The papers I wrote for class. Gone. The memory is in me and not in any object anymore. None of these define me. They are only objects, dreams of who I will never be, that are festering, incomplete, ignored, shoved in boxes and in corners. Taking up space. Time to choose and move on. And the objects that represent the things I did become...they can go, too: already a part of me. All of this baggage I don't want to take with me. I don't want to move it, or carry it, or store it anymore.
I woke up ready to let it all go, less traumatic, less guilt today. The pleasures of moving.
I don't have a place yet, but I still have to move.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Nine days
The robin starts singing at 5:37 am. I have been awake since before 4 am. Wide awake. Maybe it's the coffee I had at rehearsal.
Communication still seems to be wacky for me. I suppose everyone is busy and just glossing the surface of things. Never heard back about the room I saw early on Saturday, don't have an email address for other place because she and I talked on the phone (and I can neither read my handwriting from when I wrote her number down nor do I have her original ad, I've looked at so many.) Someone said I should stop by but didn't give a time nor an address. It's kinda' amusing, in a way, looking at it from a distance.
Got some blocking done on scene work, interesting revelation that just changing the blocking, totally changed the interaction between the characters...upping the ante. A game of chicken (with life and death consequences- Miss Julie.) Wish the nursery rhymes weren't this week...I have a concert that day, too, so can't skip that rehearsal or performance in order to move. Somehow, it'll all happen. I know what I'm looking for, though I have an odd feeling it won't be long term...there's something else, not sure what that is...if I don't dig my heels in and stay just because I don't want to go through the process of moving again. Trying to stay open.
A friend posted this earlier. I need it, I'm still trying to believe I don't have to be perfect first, give myself the break I'd give anyone else. (Also, believing I have to somehow be perfect, doesn't give anyone else the benefit of the doubt to make up their own mind about me, 'cos I'm not letting them in.) Logically, I can say it doesn't make sense, but messages that got drilled into you starting early and often aren't about listening to reason, they just get embedded in there as "truth." (How many times has this come up? For the record, it's the "unaccomplished" that really eats at me. For whatever reasons, it took me forever to figure out what I wanted and then to give myself permission to pursue it without feeling like I'm being selfish. In the meantime, I've done some internal stuff, but, not many of the big societal "hoops"...) Really frickin' difficult mind-set to break. Just keep chipping away at it until I believe it completely...I have changed other beliefs, I'll change this one, eventually.
Communication still seems to be wacky for me. I suppose everyone is busy and just glossing the surface of things. Never heard back about the room I saw early on Saturday, don't have an email address for other place because she and I talked on the phone (and I can neither read my handwriting from when I wrote her number down nor do I have her original ad, I've looked at so many.) Someone said I should stop by but didn't give a time nor an address. It's kinda' amusing, in a way, looking at it from a distance.
Got some blocking done on scene work, interesting revelation that just changing the blocking, totally changed the interaction between the characters...upping the ante. A game of chicken (with life and death consequences- Miss Julie.) Wish the nursery rhymes weren't this week...I have a concert that day, too, so can't skip that rehearsal or performance in order to move. Somehow, it'll all happen. I know what I'm looking for, though I have an odd feeling it won't be long term...there's something else, not sure what that is...if I don't dig my heels in and stay just because I don't want to go through the process of moving again. Trying to stay open.
A friend posted this earlier. I need it, I'm still trying to believe I don't have to be perfect first, give myself the break I'd give anyone else. (Also, believing I have to somehow be perfect, doesn't give anyone else the benefit of the doubt to make up their own mind about me, 'cos I'm not letting them in.) Logically, I can say it doesn't make sense, but messages that got drilled into you starting early and often aren't about listening to reason, they just get embedded in there as "truth." (How many times has this come up? For the record, it's the "unaccomplished" that really eats at me. For whatever reasons, it took me forever to figure out what I wanted and then to give myself permission to pursue it without feeling like I'm being selfish. In the meantime, I've done some internal stuff, but, not many of the big societal "hoops"...) Really frickin' difficult mind-set to break. Just keep chipping away at it until I believe it completely...I have changed other beliefs, I'll change this one, eventually.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Easter
Having a surreal time in this roommate search. On Wednesday, I contacted two ads, on Thursday two people called me and I set up appointments sorta' assuming it had been the houses I had contacted. Went yesterday. First was a man who was going to show me two places, ended up showing me one, which wasn't any ad I had answered, but he said it was available. Nice enough, slightly higher than what I'd like to pay, but might turn in application anyway. The other one: Woman called me, name she said sounded like the name of a friend of a friend that was looking, so I have this conversation with her thinking it was this ad I had just answered. House was up a dirt road on Beacon Hill, ad had been for a quiet part of Capitol Hill, and I thought, "Well, that's an interesting location description." And I was running late, so I sent a message to the house I thought it was (they must think I'm a nut case.) The whole time I'm at the house talking to her, I'm racking my brain trying to figure out who this person is and when I contacted her. Nice enough place, impossible to live in location without a car, too wooded to walk home to after dark. Maybe I contacted her a few weeks ago? I have no idea. It was a disorienting experience. And it was pouring rain, and I was soaked and feeling like I was coming down with a virus. Got off of the bus downtown to drop something off at the library and was confused about where I was. Eventually figured it out, but thought I should just go home and go to bed. Slept off and on for the next twelve hours. I feel fine now.
Internet was spotty all week and then down for the past few days. Finally was able to get someone to repair it today. And I was panicking, because they cancelled my appointment because I missed the call...not proud of it, but freaking out on the phone sometimes works (partially it was continually getting stuck in the auto thing and then when I got a real person, having them transfer me and then the call hanging up and having to start all over again. Took half an hour and multiple calls to get through.) And it did. It was real. I need to find somewhere to live, and that's all online now. Anyway, the man came early, and he was nice, and he fixed it.
It's not the end of the world, but I don't want to be homeless.
And then, the sun is shining. And it's Easter. And the music was beautiful, and we mostly got it right in the end. And everything rises. And hope remains. And we can start over. And we never had to be perfect to be enough. And we are enough. And love won. And love wins.
Happy Easter.
Internet was spotty all week and then down for the past few days. Finally was able to get someone to repair it today. And I was panicking, because they cancelled my appointment because I missed the call...not proud of it, but freaking out on the phone sometimes works (partially it was continually getting stuck in the auto thing and then when I got a real person, having them transfer me and then the call hanging up and having to start all over again. Took half an hour and multiple calls to get through.) And it did. It was real. I need to find somewhere to live, and that's all online now. Anyway, the man came early, and he was nice, and he fixed it.
It's not the end of the world, but I don't want to be homeless.
And then, the sun is shining. And it's Easter. And the music was beautiful, and we mostly got it right in the end. And everything rises. And hope remains. And we can start over. And we never had to be perfect to be enough. And we are enough. And love won. And love wins.
Happy Easter.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Thursday
Lot of tension in the air again today. When another singer and I walked down to put our music away after a very long rehearsal, we could hear fighting (shouting) going on in the next room. And rehearsal was tense. Lingering eclipse, maybe. I feel out of sorts from it (the tension.) Usually I feel good after rehearsal. It's really wet out right now as well, almost an inch of rain, falling in showers. The world just seemed kinda' crazy today. (And I still need a place to live, and help moving...trying to figure out the timing of all that. Looking at a few places this weekend.)
Went to a passover meal earlier in the evening. I looked out the window at one point and it looked as if all the trees were breathing, rising up and down in the wind. Later the sun broke through the clouds and there was a double rainbow in the eastern sky. (Rain on the lens.) Two friends (at least) posted pictures of this. I like that I know people that look up and see the rainbows. I really just wrote this for the pictures. (This camera doesn't really like dealing with excess light, color goes weird, doesn't record same quality of light that my brain registers.)
Went to a passover meal earlier in the evening. I looked out the window at one point and it looked as if all the trees were breathing, rising up and down in the wind. Later the sun broke through the clouds and there was a double rainbow in the eastern sky. (Rain on the lens.) Two friends (at least) posted pictures of this. I like that I know people that look up and see the rainbows. I really just wrote this for the pictures. (This camera doesn't really like dealing with excess light, color goes weird, doesn't record same quality of light that my brain registers.)
 |
| Rainbow, April 17/L Herlevi 2014 |
 |
| April 17/L Herlevi 2014 |
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Wednesday
(I never know what day it is anymore.) I can feel the tension from other peoples' fear and anger fill my body until I'm about to break. I let it get to me, I should have tuned it out. I had to go. Out. Walk. Get it out of my system. First thought was the frogs, then the herons. On the way, I pass through the crab apple grove, in bloom. If I could be in love with a tree, it would be a crab apple in bloom. Lovely. The roses are still asleep, dreaming of summer. One heron flies over, lands on the upmost branches of the rookery. Lots of nests, but quiet today. The frogs are in hiding, one eventually shows its face, crawling briefly up from the harbor of the leaf it's in. The greenhouse is warm and smells sweet. There is a cacao plant with fruit in one of the rooms, but I'm not sure if that's the scent. The greenhouse is very peaceful.
Outside the sky spits rain on my face and the wind buffets me, an indecisive storm. Wood ducks swim and dive in the fountain as I walk past. Made some preliminary decisions regarding one of the class projects which makes me feel less stressed, and a rehearsal for the other one tonight has been set. I called a housing authority this morning about an apartment, $1020 for a studio. Yikes. And then applied for an acting job that pays, so keeping my fingers crossed. Spoke to a man about a house, I'm not sure if the rooms are a good fit, but his voice was very calming. One way or another, something will be decided in two weeks.
Here's a Walt Whitman poem:
Miracles
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
- Walt Whitman
Outside the sky spits rain on my face and the wind buffets me, an indecisive storm. Wood ducks swim and dive in the fountain as I walk past. Made some preliminary decisions regarding one of the class projects which makes me feel less stressed, and a rehearsal for the other one tonight has been set. I called a housing authority this morning about an apartment, $1020 for a studio. Yikes. And then applied for an acting job that pays, so keeping my fingers crossed. Spoke to a man about a house, I'm not sure if the rooms are a good fit, but his voice was very calming. One way or another, something will be decided in two weeks.
Here's a Walt Whitman poem:
Miracles
Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of
the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night
with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer
forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so
quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.
To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with
the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—
the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?
- Walt Whitman
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
After class
I was thinking earlier that I can't imagine anything else we do this year will be as terrifying as the mirror and "I should have" exercises, but that doesn't mean there isn't a ton of work to get done. Lots and lots of homework and rehearsals this quarter, it's more like being in a regular class now: text analysis, and scene work...we have to actually "study" in a way.
We did grid work in period costume tonight, dealing with power relationships. I had a corset half on (it wasn't tight enough), it was particularly complicated to tie (I had a tank top on underneath it) but it's amusing to think I was still thinking of myself as upper class in that state of dress. I was imagining my interactions as if I were Julie...and that was interesting, I had real stories going on for most of it, and I usually have had trouble with that.
My big take away from the night, working on Hedda in particular, was that we don't take the chances in life that we should when we have the opportunity. We hem and haw and always think there is time, but that window doesn't last forever. Do you spend your life with regret? Hedda and Lovborg...they both end up destroyed and then dead; two people who probably should have been together, but both lacked courage when the moment was right.
Not sure what I get from Miss Julie yet...push and pull to see who will cross the line first. A (life and death) power struggle.
In other life, still need a place to live.
We did grid work in period costume tonight, dealing with power relationships. I had a corset half on (it wasn't tight enough), it was particularly complicated to tie (I had a tank top on underneath it) but it's amusing to think I was still thinking of myself as upper class in that state of dress. I was imagining my interactions as if I were Julie...and that was interesting, I had real stories going on for most of it, and I usually have had trouble with that.
My big take away from the night, working on Hedda in particular, was that we don't take the chances in life that we should when we have the opportunity. We hem and haw and always think there is time, but that window doesn't last forever. Do you spend your life with regret? Hedda and Lovborg...they both end up destroyed and then dead; two people who probably should have been together, but both lacked courage when the moment was right.
Not sure what I get from Miss Julie yet...push and pull to see who will cross the line first. A (life and death) power struggle.
In other life, still need a place to live.
Someone else's poem
Here's a Robert Bly poem for the ending of the day, which has yet to arrive, stretching out further and further each day now:
Surprised by Evening
There is unknown dust that is near us,
Waves breaking on shores just over the hill,
Trees full of birds that we have never seen,
Nets drawn down with dark fish.
The evening arrives; we look up and it is there,
It has come through the nets of the stars,
Through the tissues of the grass,
Walking quietly over the asylums of the waters.
The day shall never end, we think:
We have hair that seems born for the daylight;
But, at last, the quiet waters of the night will rise,
And our skin shall see far off, as it does underwater.
Surprised by Evening
There is unknown dust that is near us,
Waves breaking on shores just over the hill,
Trees full of birds that we have never seen,
Nets drawn down with dark fish.
The evening arrives; we look up and it is there,
It has come through the nets of the stars,
Through the tissues of the grass,
Walking quietly over the asylums of the waters.
The day shall never end, we think:
We have hair that seems born for the daylight;
But, at last, the quiet waters of the night will rise,
And our skin shall see far off, as it does underwater.
No moon sightings for me
I missed the eclipse. Thin clouds obscured the shape of the moon until it resembled a shaft of light in the eastern sky. I fell asleep. When I awoke sometime after 2 am and lifted the blinds, a curtain of rain was falling down and I went back to bed. By morning the clouds had parted, the rising sun lit the backs of crows making them glow white and turned every blade of grass into a diamond.
The robin begins it's song on cue, slightly earlier with each passing morning. Is it the sun? Some form of gravity? The passing of the coolest part of the day? I saw it sitting high in a birch tree, singing. It's really no where near my window: just very loud, enough for all the neighbors to hear.
At the bus stop, the Norwegian maple flicks spent flowers down at me like rain, helped by the slightest of breezes knocking at the branches. Everything welcoming me to the world.
(It is such a relief to have done the do-over exercise, it's like smashing a dam down and letting the flood of blocked up energy wash all the crap away. Things I didn't know I needed, at the right time, in the right place, where other people held the truth for me until I could claim it for myself. It's funny because I was afraid to do it, thought it wasn't good enough, and wondering if there would be enough time for everyone, and then thinking that yes, I wanted to get it done, because everyone that had gone had claimed back power, and they were standing somewhere I also wanted to be. It was the same with the mirror exercises last quarter, which initially seemed terrifying, but turned into liberation. I guess that's how it is: there's a chasm you cross, and everything is different on the other side. You can't go back, but I can't imagine wanting to: Take back your power.)
I haven't had contact with him in ages...he'll probably show up now, out of the blue, as a test of my intentions: did I mean what I said? God, I hope so.
The robin begins it's song on cue, slightly earlier with each passing morning. Is it the sun? Some form of gravity? The passing of the coolest part of the day? I saw it sitting high in a birch tree, singing. It's really no where near my window: just very loud, enough for all the neighbors to hear.
At the bus stop, the Norwegian maple flicks spent flowers down at me like rain, helped by the slightest of breezes knocking at the branches. Everything welcoming me to the world.
(It is such a relief to have done the do-over exercise, it's like smashing a dam down and letting the flood of blocked up energy wash all the crap away. Things I didn't know I needed, at the right time, in the right place, where other people held the truth for me until I could claim it for myself. It's funny because I was afraid to do it, thought it wasn't good enough, and wondering if there would be enough time for everyone, and then thinking that yes, I wanted to get it done, because everyone that had gone had claimed back power, and they were standing somewhere I also wanted to be. It was the same with the mirror exercises last quarter, which initially seemed terrifying, but turned into liberation. I guess that's how it is: there's a chasm you cross, and everything is different on the other side. You can't go back, but I can't imagine wanting to: Take back your power.)
I haven't had contact with him in ages...he'll probably show up now, out of the blue, as a test of my intentions: did I mean what I said? God, I hope so.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Good riddance
The place I saw today: space was cool and great for the price, but there appeared to be a small rotting carcass saved on the porch, which is disturbing. Maybe it was fake. Leaning to "no."
Forgiveness isn't license to be treated like crap. Maybe it's a way to take back your own power and walk away. The ex I seemed most determined to be the better person with, to try to have a friendship with, was probably the least deserving of it. Other boyfriends may have been more assholian, but they didn't try to pass themselves off as nice, I may have misread, seen what I wanted to see, but they didn't pretend, and I knew of their bad behavior long before I did with him. (What was that? To my face you treated me like you cared about me.) Hearing it on a recording (I finally realized I could record onto my camera) made me realize how shitty he treated me, how little he deserved anything from me much less friendship. How he was never a friend to me: he lied to me, he cheated on me, he used me, he mocked me...and my trying to maintain a friendship is ridiculous. A year of his dishonesty, and then more years of (my) justifying it: no wonder my self-esteem went into the gutter. I don't need to be "nice." I don't need to be his friend. It was never real. Friendship requires trust...and mine was misplaced. What's left is emptiness.
Yes. I do deserve to be treated better. (And I don't have to be "perfect" first, 'cos that's never gonna happen.)
Forgiveness isn't license to be treated like crap. Maybe it's a way to take back your own power and walk away. The ex I seemed most determined to be the better person with, to try to have a friendship with, was probably the least deserving of it. Other boyfriends may have been more assholian, but they didn't try to pass themselves off as nice, I may have misread, seen what I wanted to see, but they didn't pretend, and I knew of their bad behavior long before I did with him. (What was that? To my face you treated me like you cared about me.) Hearing it on a recording (I finally realized I could record onto my camera) made me realize how shitty he treated me, how little he deserved anything from me much less friendship. How he was never a friend to me: he lied to me, he cheated on me, he used me, he mocked me...and my trying to maintain a friendship is ridiculous. A year of his dishonesty, and then more years of (my) justifying it: no wonder my self-esteem went into the gutter. I don't need to be "nice." I don't need to be his friend. It was never real. Friendship requires trust...and mine was misplaced. What's left is emptiness.
Yes. I do deserve to be treated better. (And I don't have to be "perfect" first, 'cos that's never gonna happen.)
Sunday, April 13, 2014
After concert
My heart feels like a giant knot, mixed emotions I can't figure out how to release. I have respect and hope for humanity because in spite of our highs and lows we can do something like this (it's better live):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_rQKiqiQI4
It's not the best recording, but when they all start singing still kinda' gives me the chills. (In the Arms of an Angel, sung by the Soweto Gospel Choir.) When they sang it tonight, I think there was a little extra emotion, as when this video was recorded in 2013 Nelson Mandela was still alive. A lot of tonight seemed dedicated to him. It was a great concert, but coming home the buses were full and not picking anyone up. Had to walk part way home, the stars seemed extra bright in spite of an almost full moon in the middle of the sky.
I'm still up now because I'm trying to find an assignment that's due tomorrow. Yikes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_rQKiqiQI4
It's not the best recording, but when they all start singing still kinda' gives me the chills. (In the Arms of an Angel, sung by the Soweto Gospel Choir.) When they sang it tonight, I think there was a little extra emotion, as when this video was recorded in 2013 Nelson Mandela was still alive. A lot of tonight seemed dedicated to him. It was a great concert, but coming home the buses were full and not picking anyone up. Had to walk part way home, the stars seemed extra bright in spite of an almost full moon in the middle of the sky.
I'm still up now because I'm trying to find an assignment that's due tomorrow. Yikes.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
Sun pushes through the closed blinds
The robin begins singing it's morning song at 6 am. At quarter past eight, it's on its second wind: a joyous alarm clock.
The purple broccoli and collards I planted 11 months ago are sprouting, finally edible. All the better from neglect. Garden is in better shape than I woulda' thought.
The wind off of the lake is cold, though the sun is warm. The only birds around the lake are the coots walking the shoreline on their massive white-veined feet. Only slightly alarmed by my passing them. Further off a couple of crows languidly chase a (very vocal) juvenile eagle, but are soon bored with the pursuit and land in a tree. A magical kinda' light, again more lovely from the presence of passing clouds.
Moving laundry from washer to dryer shredded tissue falls from it like snow and I shake it loose. It sticks to my pant legs. Something to do while the laundry dries.
Finally seeing a house today. Possibly two. Feeling calm and lazy. Lotta' work to do.
The purple broccoli and collards I planted 11 months ago are sprouting, finally edible. All the better from neglect. Garden is in better shape than I woulda' thought.
The wind off of the lake is cold, though the sun is warm. The only birds around the lake are the coots walking the shoreline on their massive white-veined feet. Only slightly alarmed by my passing them. Further off a couple of crows languidly chase a (very vocal) juvenile eagle, but are soon bored with the pursuit and land in a tree. A magical kinda' light, again more lovely from the presence of passing clouds.
Moving laundry from washer to dryer shredded tissue falls from it like snow and I shake it loose. It sticks to my pant legs. Something to do while the laundry dries.
Finally seeing a house today. Possibly two. Feeling calm and lazy. Lotta' work to do.
Friday, April 11, 2014
Missed connections
There's something weird about meeting a potential housemate publically when you don't know who they are. It's like a blind date. And like a blind date, it's probably the wiser place to meet, get a sense of what the other person is like. But I was supposed to meet someone tonight, a woman, and she never got back to me, but I had tried to describe myself, and then went to this bar. I sat there checking everyone out that came in trying to guess if one of them was her, which felt weird. It's possible she was there, but I have no idea. Missed a birthday for a friend, too. But I needed to do this. I don't know, something about the whole energy of the week has been fairly flakey. That holds for me as well (homework, house searching, ennui.)
I've decided that the reason I keep feeling sick is because I seem to have given myself an ulcer from all the anti-inflammatories I've taken over the past year. Have presently stopped. Should go see someone, I suppose, get a real diagnosis:) Feel slightly better if I've eaten. Feel like crap if I go for more than about six hours without eating.
Guess I'll work on Miss Julie. And move boxes so they are less in the way. I suppose I should start this house thing all over again. It does feel closer to the wire now.
Oh, she just emailed me. Guess she wasn't there. (I answered her 3 days ago in the affirmative that I would meet today at 6, her suggestion.) Irritated that I missed my friend's birthday for her, but no longer guilty for slight lateness. This has come up a lot this year: if you agree on a place and a time to meet, doesn't that mean that you are meeting there and then? It does to me. At any rate...hope next week is better. These are not meant to be.
I've decided that the reason I keep feeling sick is because I seem to have given myself an ulcer from all the anti-inflammatories I've taken over the past year. Have presently stopped. Should go see someone, I suppose, get a real diagnosis:) Feel slightly better if I've eaten. Feel like crap if I go for more than about six hours without eating.
Guess I'll work on Miss Julie. And move boxes so they are less in the way. I suppose I should start this house thing all over again. It does feel closer to the wire now.
Oh, she just emailed me. Guess she wasn't there. (I answered her 3 days ago in the affirmative that I would meet today at 6, her suggestion.) Irritated that I missed my friend's birthday for her, but no longer guilty for slight lateness. This has come up a lot this year: if you agree on a place and a time to meet, doesn't that mean that you are meeting there and then? It does to me. At any rate...hope next week is better. These are not meant to be.
Friday
My mind has been a blank canvas most of the week. I had a couple of epiphanies a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep, one was new, the other I'd heard before but it suddenly made sense to me (had to do with loving yourself, and why that would matter), but other than that, thoughts slip through with no resistance to keep them from vaporizing in the light of the sun. I have no attention span, and no feeling of urgency that would seem necessary to get through all the work I need to get done and to find a place to live. Time to make a list and check it off I guess, to feel like I'm accomplishing something. Got another play mostly read, that's something, and a really long choir rehearsal last night...think I need to get my ears cleaned out, had trouble matching a b-flat, not sure why I can't hear it. I've been defaulted into singing second lately, (back to first in the other choir) and that's always been a challenge. I'd rather sing first, I can hit the notes, but we're suddenly short on sopranos. It's a good workout for my brain, especially when it's in a fog.
But the sun is shining, and it's Friday, and someone carried my (massive stack of) mail when I wasn't looking. And the bird continues to sing outside my window in the morning, returning after I don't know how long an absence: I like it. Life is good. (I like Keats as well):
When I Have Fears that I May Cease to Be
But the sun is shining, and it's Friday, and someone carried my (massive stack of) mail when I wasn't looking. And the bird continues to sing outside my window in the morning, returning after I don't know how long an absence: I like it. Life is good. (I like Keats as well):
When I Have Fears that I May Cease to Be
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high-pilèd books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripened grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starred face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till love and fame to nothingness do sink.
-John Keats
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Morning
Enduring a morning full of lovely tar fumes. But the sun is out and a slight breeze blows through the trees. Lawnmowers roar in the distance.
Plowing my way through more plays: Lee Blessing, Neil LaBute, Jean Genet. Still trying to figure out the tape recorder thing, I'll just have to do without, I think. I think I know what my "do-over" is though...seems to be providing plenty of fuel for class this year. Didn't realize how much it bothered me, but when I touch it, it's loaded. Totally buried it to be a "good" person, but he wasn't. It was a long time ago, if I can get it out of my system, that'd be a good thing. Trying to work myself up to making phone calls (least favorite thing to do.) All for class (oh, and potential house.) So much work this quarter.
This is a Maya Angelou poem, a friend posted it a couple of days ago, and it grabbed me.
Plowing my way through more plays: Lee Blessing, Neil LaBute, Jean Genet. Still trying to figure out the tape recorder thing, I'll just have to do without, I think. I think I know what my "do-over" is though...seems to be providing plenty of fuel for class this year. Didn't realize how much it bothered me, but when I touch it, it's loaded. Totally buried it to be a "good" person, but he wasn't. It was a long time ago, if I can get it out of my system, that'd be a good thing. Trying to work myself up to making phone calls (least favorite thing to do.) All for class (oh, and potential house.) So much work this quarter.
This is a Maya Angelou poem, a friend posted it a couple of days ago, and it grabbed me.
Refusal
Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die.
Maya Angelou
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Wednesday
While I was looking elsewhere, the trees near the entrance to the building became covered in leaves. They cast a green glow in the rising morning light as I pass by them.
In class last night, talked about "conflict" and the idea that we know we are going to lose in the end, we know we will die, but we choose to fight for things anyway. We choose to pursue love anyway. It's what makes us interesting. It's what makes us brave.
Here's a poem for the day (I'm on a Neruda kick):
In class last night, talked about "conflict" and the idea that we know we are going to lose in the end, we know we will die, but we choose to fight for things anyway. We choose to pursue love anyway. It's what makes us interesting. It's what makes us brave.
Here's a poem for the day (I'm on a Neruda kick):
Sonnet XVII: I do not love you as if you were brine-rose, topaz
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Pablo Neruda
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Trust
Way too scattered. Feel like I'm running in one direction, chipping away at something, then running off in a different one and chipping away at that. It's exciting to be in a place where anything is possible, but exhausting to not be able to stand on anything solid until things settle. It's like being in the middle of a whirlwind (or being the wind), I don't know what direction to go in, I don't know direction. All that remains is trust, and a belief that the world is "safe."
Happy that we're mostly back to a regular class schedule, it helps me feel grounded, and that the work is progressing, and not in a vacuum. I need the interaction, the connection, the feedback. And the accountability, there's so much going on, if I don't have to focus on something, I won't, and I need to.
I am by no means in despair, actually feeling rather upbeat, but I like this poem by Wendell Berry (and as it's National Poetry Month):
Happy that we're mostly back to a regular class schedule, it helps me feel grounded, and that the work is progressing, and not in a vacuum. I need the interaction, the connection, the feedback. And the accountability, there's so much going on, if I don't have to focus on something, I won't, and I need to.
I am by no means in despair, actually feeling rather upbeat, but I like this poem by Wendell Berry (and as it's National Poetry Month):
"THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS"
by Wendell Berry
by Wendell Berry
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
After class, stressed out again: so much to get done, so little time, such a lack of clarity in my head...so, head feels like it's screaming. First things first...choose an event, buy a tape, record the exercise. Shit. Oh, and I still haven't done the empathy exercise.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Back to the beginning
The strawberries I bought on Saturday have sprouted fur already. My housemate commented that at least you know there's nothing on them, and offered to pick through them to salvage, so I gave them to him. He's braver than I. I salvaged a few. I should probably eat them already. I'm itching to get outside, nicest day in months, possibility of hitting close to 70 degrees. Have begun my new slew of housing contacts. Optimism!
Back to the love thing, maybe there is no such thing as a "love of your life, ie soul mate." Maybe we've just bought into a fantasy and we "wait" for something we will never find, missing out on people we'd be compatible with and would be good for us and vice versa. Maybe it's just a marketing ploy to sell books to lonely people. I don't know. (I was just having this conversation with someone, we have it fairly regularly.) I go back and forth, it's a nice fantasy, but it's not so nice if it makes you look over someone's shoulder. It's not nice, if it holds you back from living. And how would you even know if you met them? You just need to decide to build a life with someone, with each other, I suppose. Commit daily to each other and to making it work. (This is kinda' deja vu, I might have written this last year, as well.) Jury in my head is out, but tends to lean slightly in the latter direction, after all, fantasies keep you from actually living. (Okay, now I'm sounding like the movie Serendipity, which yes, I admit, I have seen on tv, and also a word someone just used right now...more synchronicity.) But the thought of being someone's entire universe all the time, makes me feel claustrophobic. I want a relationship, I want to feel like we trust each other and that the ground is solid, and that we share our lives, but I don't want to be so enmeshed with someone to the point of suffocation. I'm pretty independent. It sounds conflicted, but I think a lot of people are able to find that. Yeah? Always the possibility that I change my mind, but there it is.
Back to the love thing, maybe there is no such thing as a "love of your life, ie soul mate." Maybe we've just bought into a fantasy and we "wait" for something we will never find, missing out on people we'd be compatible with and would be good for us and vice versa. Maybe it's just a marketing ploy to sell books to lonely people. I don't know. (I was just having this conversation with someone, we have it fairly regularly.) I go back and forth, it's a nice fantasy, but it's not so nice if it makes you look over someone's shoulder. It's not nice, if it holds you back from living. And how would you even know if you met them? You just need to decide to build a life with someone, with each other, I suppose. Commit daily to each other and to making it work. (This is kinda' deja vu, I might have written this last year, as well.) Jury in my head is out, but tends to lean slightly in the latter direction, after all, fantasies keep you from actually living. (Okay, now I'm sounding like the movie Serendipity, which yes, I admit, I have seen on tv, and also a word someone just used right now...more synchronicity.) But the thought of being someone's entire universe all the time, makes me feel claustrophobic. I want a relationship, I want to feel like we trust each other and that the ground is solid, and that we share our lives, but I don't want to be so enmeshed with someone to the point of suffocation. I'm pretty independent. It sounds conflicted, but I think a lot of people are able to find that. Yeah? Always the possibility that I change my mind, but there it is.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Futility lingers like smoke
shoving hope into the outer reaches of the room. The feeling remains, less today than last night, but it's still there, and a panic below the surface that I won't find an affordable/comfortable/safe place to live before the end of the month (and yeah, I know, it's only the 6th. I just want to set this, so I can put my energy into other things, I also need to do.) The ones I had been in contact with all seem to have fallen through, so: start over.
I'll probably feel better if I get some of the homework done, or started really. I'm overwhelmed, there's just a lot that has to get done. And that makes me panic, and feel trapped. I pretty much just stop, and freeze in place. And I know I need to act, to do something, anything, to get out of it. And I will. I'm just panicking. Just a step in a new direction.
I woke up at 3 am, thinking I'd heard knocking on a door. Still don't know if I imagined it, but I lay there trying not to make any sound and reaching for pepper spray. Coulda' just been a dream, I don't know. Couldn't go back to sleep. Worked on my monologues (silently), and re-started my meditation practice that had fallen off recently (past few months.) Actually managed to stay awake for all of it:) Looking for an oracle to show me some light. And the thing is, I want to walk into something good, a better situation, rather than just run away from a bad one. (And I guess what I'd looked at weren't the right ones...but does it always need to be right in the nick of time? Can't these things work out early?) There is a difference. I want my life to get better. And even though I feel like if I don't fight it constantly, I slide back into the same rut, I have to believe that life will work out, that because I'm not the same person I was even last year, because I've changed, the world I'm inhabiting is different. As we change, our worlds change around us. It comes down to a matter of trust (you'd think I'd have learned this life lesson by now...but I get this one quite a bit, even had a miracle-or ten-around this, and it's still a struggle.) But there it is. Again.
Later. Oh, wow, as they say "Ask and you shall receive." Okay. Now I'm only feeling cranky because of low blood sugar and cabin fever (feel this way every Sunday, always better when there's class in the evening or something) but no longer panicky. Guess I'll keep cleaning, it feels like getting something moving. I have a ridiculous amount of books.
I'll probably feel better if I get some of the homework done, or started really. I'm overwhelmed, there's just a lot that has to get done. And that makes me panic, and feel trapped. I pretty much just stop, and freeze in place. And I know I need to act, to do something, anything, to get out of it. And I will. I'm just panicking. Just a step in a new direction.
I woke up at 3 am, thinking I'd heard knocking on a door. Still don't know if I imagined it, but I lay there trying not to make any sound and reaching for pepper spray. Coulda' just been a dream, I don't know. Couldn't go back to sleep. Worked on my monologues (silently), and re-started my meditation practice that had fallen off recently (past few months.) Actually managed to stay awake for all of it:) Looking for an oracle to show me some light. And the thing is, I want to walk into something good, a better situation, rather than just run away from a bad one. (And I guess what I'd looked at weren't the right ones...but does it always need to be right in the nick of time? Can't these things work out early?) There is a difference. I want my life to get better. And even though I feel like if I don't fight it constantly, I slide back into the same rut, I have to believe that life will work out, that because I'm not the same person I was even last year, because I've changed, the world I'm inhabiting is different. As we change, our worlds change around us. It comes down to a matter of trust (you'd think I'd have learned this life lesson by now...but I get this one quite a bit, even had a miracle-or ten-around this, and it's still a struggle.) But there it is. Again.
Later. Oh, wow, as they say "Ask and you shall receive." Okay. Now I'm only feeling cranky because of low blood sugar and cabin fever (feel this way every Sunday, always better when there's class in the evening or something) but no longer panicky. Guess I'll keep cleaning, it feels like getting something moving. I have a ridiculous amount of books.
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Saturday Night
Everything changes...sometimes that's all we've got to hold onto. Everything in flux, more now than usual, but always in flux. Will start all over again.
The rain falls. Gravity wins. Water will seek and find it's source. Always.
Whatever unrest in my private universe, the world goes on: winter transitions into spring into summer into fall, everything as it should be. It will work out. As it will. As it will.
The rain falls. Gravity wins. Water will seek and find it's source. Always.
Whatever unrest in my private universe, the world goes on: winter transitions into spring into summer into fall, everything as it should be. It will work out. As it will. As it will.
 |
| Lone tree/L Herlevi 2014 |
 |
| Lawn flowers/L Herlevi 2014 |
Saturday
Went to another "Incubator" show last night. Again, just really enjoy seeing what people are creating, I think all three pieces were original works; I didn't keep my program (again.) Last night had the added bonus of Shellie Shulkin, probably my favorite working actress in Seattle, in the middle piece, Serpent's Tooth, by Susan McNally (who also wrote the play Hearts that I went to the staged-reading of on Monday.) Shit, she's good. I found all three pieces engaging, nice emotional transitions for the actors.
On the way to the bus after, I am bombarded with requests for money: a quarter, a dollar, more than I usually am. After I respond, they tell me to "be safe out there." I feel an odd heat rising up my legs from my feet, from the pavement (?) I don't know. I don't feel sick anymore (I was most of the day.) When I look up, I can still see the sliver of the moon fairly high, which also seems odd, I suppose I expect it to cross the sky quicker than it does, it's doesn't seem all that further along than it did six hours before. I think the bus is late, but it's only because I looked at the wrong schedule. It's only a little after 9 pm when I get back home. I watch a strange and wonderful Italian movie called Le Quatrro Volte about a goat herder who dies half-way through, and then it follows the path of his soul as it inhabits a goat, a tree, and a charcoal kiln. Essentially there is no dialogue, just everyday life. And the behavior of the animals is also pretty wonderful, especially the goats. Such strange creatures.
I have a pile of library material, this was one in the stack. Going to a matinee on my pass, and then hopefully to a third "Incubator" show, it's sold out, but there always seem to be seats, so I'm gonna get on the waitlist. Ciao.
On the way to the bus after, I am bombarded with requests for money: a quarter, a dollar, more than I usually am. After I respond, they tell me to "be safe out there." I feel an odd heat rising up my legs from my feet, from the pavement (?) I don't know. I don't feel sick anymore (I was most of the day.) When I look up, I can still see the sliver of the moon fairly high, which also seems odd, I suppose I expect it to cross the sky quicker than it does, it's doesn't seem all that further along than it did six hours before. I think the bus is late, but it's only because I looked at the wrong schedule. It's only a little after 9 pm when I get back home. I watch a strange and wonderful Italian movie called Le Quatrro Volte about a goat herder who dies half-way through, and then it follows the path of his soul as it inhabits a goat, a tree, and a charcoal kiln. Essentially there is no dialogue, just everyday life. And the behavior of the animals is also pretty wonderful, especially the goats. Such strange creatures.
I have a pile of library material, this was one in the stack. Going to a matinee on my pass, and then hopefully to a third "Incubator" show, it's sold out, but there always seem to be seats, so I'm gonna get on the waitlist. Ciao.
Friday, April 4, 2014
And it's even sunny out
Friday afternoon defies the forecasted rain. Instead, big, puffy clouds float across the bright blue sky, while a tiny sliver of the moon holds court at the center of it all. Down below, only a breeze kicking the odd, old leaves down the pavement. It's warm in the sun. None of this reaches deep enough into me to wash away the lingering disillusionment that reading (yet another) script has left me with. Script dealing with unfaithfulness, really depresses me. Why bother being in a relationship at all if you are only looking to find someone else, someone better when the time comes? I know there are people who are faithful. (I even recognize that there are people who would have been faithful to me, had I let them be.) I know there are people who renew commitments to one another when they haven't been...but god, it all just seems so futile. (Plays about the destruction of the world I can read without flinching, plays about betrayal, on the other hand, leave me in a funk.) And I want to shake what I'm feeling off of me, but I can't. Ugh. I mean I can sit here and read Strindberg spewing his misogyny and laugh at it, it's just so ridiculous, even if there might still be people who think that way: it's his fear and misguidedness, not mine. (And I volunteered to work on Miss Julie because of that.) But I lose a sense of hope reading about an affair, go figure.
And when I'm feeling particularly jaded (which is by no means all of the time) and I hear a love song on the radio I'll think, "yeah, but they're not together anymore." So was it real, or did it just sound good? And still...as perhaps the writers of the songs took the plunge and maybe even if they lost in the end, it is better to hold out hope to believe in the possibility of, and to seek out love and risk the loss than to live a life devoid of it. And to search out for it and live in it as long as you can than to run away from it. (Someone told me a mutual friend said that she believed she was with her soul mate in the end, having given up her former life to be with him as his life was ending, they'd known each other for years...the two opposing ideas holding court in my head: to follow your heart to find the love of your life, regardless of the consequences vs. settling with someone because you don't want to be alone right now. Perhaps the play dealt with both. Or the actual depressing idea, that for one of you it's the love of your life and for the other, it's the best option right now.)
But the script still bums me out. (Orange Flower Water, Craig Wright, for the record.) Guess it's not my thing. And I'm not really making sense. Oh, god, what a downer. Happy weekend anyway.
And when I'm feeling particularly jaded (which is by no means all of the time) and I hear a love song on the radio I'll think, "yeah, but they're not together anymore." So was it real, or did it just sound good? And still...as perhaps the writers of the songs took the plunge and maybe even if they lost in the end, it is better to hold out hope to believe in the possibility of, and to seek out love and risk the loss than to live a life devoid of it. And to search out for it and live in it as long as you can than to run away from it. (Someone told me a mutual friend said that she believed she was with her soul mate in the end, having given up her former life to be with him as his life was ending, they'd known each other for years...the two opposing ideas holding court in my head: to follow your heart to find the love of your life, regardless of the consequences vs. settling with someone because you don't want to be alone right now. Perhaps the play dealt with both. Or the actual depressing idea, that for one of you it's the love of your life and for the other, it's the best option right now.)
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all
-Alfred Lord Tennyson
But the script still bums me out. (Orange Flower Water, Craig Wright, for the record.) Guess it's not my thing. And I'm not really making sense. Oh, god, what a downer. Happy weekend anyway.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Trying to finish "Marisol"
So, this is me reading the last 10-15 pages of Marisol in public (restaurant): read a few lines, eyes start to tear up, read of few more, tears run down my face and I need to stop and wipe them off and blow my nose. Wait a few moments. Read a few more lines, eyes tear up, tears roll down my face, need to wipe my eyes. Oh, and I totally stopped breathing. It's not even so much that it's sad, it's moving. It's powerful. It's full of beautiful and broken humanity. Still have a paragraph in the last page I haven't finished, read around it, knew I was going to just lose it if I tried. It made me think of eating painfully spicy food: you think you should stop, but you want to experience it so you keep eating it even though your gums, lips, and tongue are on fire. I was thinking of that analogy while reading/crying.
Interesting conversation I briefly eavesdropped on while walking to lunch: two young dudes, one carrying a skateboard. One says to the other, "so I found God during break." He starts to explain, I walk away, go wait at the crosswalk. As the light changes to "go" they are behind me and the one says he would give up everything to defend the light against the darkness which is coming soon. Everything. (Read into that what you will.) So, Marisol is in part, the story of a battle between angels in heaven to restore the universe, because everything is falling apart. (It is an awful lot like Dogma.) And the characters have encounters with their guardian angels telling them they are leaving us humans alone to fend for ourselves against the human-generated depravity rampant on the streets, so they can go fight in this war. No one is safe. The angels go off to battle, and we humans are left to our own devices. (In the end, all the broken humans decide to fight on the side of the rebel angels.) It was just a weird synchronicity.
Later, choir runs late. Music is challenging (and high.) Voice pretty shot, and I'm exhausted and shaky. I need to cook, but I can't stand being home. Need to work something out. Get home and there are 5 pages of move-out instructions. Sigh.
Interesting conversation I briefly eavesdropped on while walking to lunch: two young dudes, one carrying a skateboard. One says to the other, "so I found God during break." He starts to explain, I walk away, go wait at the crosswalk. As the light changes to "go" they are behind me and the one says he would give up everything to defend the light against the darkness which is coming soon. Everything. (Read into that what you will.) So, Marisol is in part, the story of a battle between angels in heaven to restore the universe, because everything is falling apart. (It is an awful lot like Dogma.) And the characters have encounters with their guardian angels telling them they are leaving us humans alone to fend for ourselves against the human-generated depravity rampant on the streets, so they can go fight in this war. No one is safe. The angels go off to battle, and we humans are left to our own devices. (In the end, all the broken humans decide to fight on the side of the rebel angels.) It was just a weird synchronicity.
Later, choir runs late. Music is challenging (and high.) Voice pretty shot, and I'm exhausted and shaky. I need to cook, but I can't stand being home. Need to work something out. Get home and there are 5 pages of move-out instructions. Sigh.
Read, read and more reading
Am loving Jose Rivera. Almost done reading Marisol, reminds me a lot of Tony Kushner's Angels in America: apocalyptic, angels, New York, messages, although more chaos, more dystopian, (in that sense, closer to Kevin Smith's Dogma), and yet still with an aching, yearning hope alive. The will to survive. To want more, a world restored, maybe balanced. I want to stage this. (I read Zoo Story, Albee, last night. Didn't grab me, I was hoping it might.) Reading as much as possible, to find out what moves me. What makes me feel awake and excited to be alive? Whose writing thrills me?: Kushner, Rivera, Shanley, Mamet (because I had to dig), Auburn (Proof), Jon Robin Baitz (Other Desert Cities), so far, open to more. Still reading.
In clown group last night, the last exercise we did made me think of Beckett, so I think I'll read him too, though, probably not something we can do for final scenes; just something to build a clown performance from. I'm finding more "ins," more chinks in the solid wall that made creating something seem daunting and off-putting (because I couldn't figure out how to begin.)
Took pictures yesterday, but was too exhausted to upload them last night after getting home from clown. Probably need to be eating more, (clown) used up more energy than I woulda' thought, it was less than two hours. We ended early, partially because I was hungry. There was talk of dismantling the group, but I hope we can get enough people to show up: I like doing the work (and people find us on line and show up, which is cool.)
I heard back from another place, an apartment, with a woman. Will check out both places this weekend. (And get rid of more stuff. Should post the furniture on craigslist.)
Keeping my fingers crossed that something works out soon. Cheers.
In clown group last night, the last exercise we did made me think of Beckett, so I think I'll read him too, though, probably not something we can do for final scenes; just something to build a clown performance from. I'm finding more "ins," more chinks in the solid wall that made creating something seem daunting and off-putting (because I couldn't figure out how to begin.)
Took pictures yesterday, but was too exhausted to upload them last night after getting home from clown. Probably need to be eating more, (clown) used up more energy than I woulda' thought, it was less than two hours. We ended early, partially because I was hungry. There was talk of dismantling the group, but I hope we can get enough people to show up: I like doing the work (and people find us on line and show up, which is cool.)
I heard back from another place, an apartment, with a woman. Will check out both places this weekend. (And get rid of more stuff. Should post the furniture on craigslist.)
Keeping my fingers crossed that something works out soon. Cheers.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Middle of the week
Read two plays yesterday, started a third at the bus stop. Was going to re-look at Proof but I must have packed it accidently, because I can't seem to find it now. She also suggested I look at Rivera (Marisol), and Genet. (Not a fan of existentialism, but I'll read it. Doing the play, which I'm open to, would limit again who I invite to see it. I don't know.) Anyway, have a huge stack of material I'm reading. We had conferences last night. I still need to allow myself to take up more space, and I like being in a situation (class) right now where I am still receiving external permission, because I'm still getting stuck in my head, afraid to make a choice, and having the external coaching helps me get out of it and into what's actually happening right now. Eventually, I'll have to do that for myself, and I will, but I'm not there yet, at least not all the time.
I feel myself neutralizing everything, both on "stage" and in life, she mentioned that maybe I'm just more aware of it, and that I'm not necessarily doing it more. I don't know. I don't feel particularly safe right now, so I'm retracting so as to not draw attention to myself. Not healthy, but survival mode. (Which I really want to get out of.) Speaking of which, I need to contact the person I dated to let him know that I contacted the ad. I don't know if he still lives there, but I don't want it to be weird if he does. (You know, if you live in shared housing for any length of time, and date people that live in shared housing, this is eventually gonna come up.)
I feel myself neutralizing everything, both on "stage" and in life, she mentioned that maybe I'm just more aware of it, and that I'm not necessarily doing it more. I don't know. I don't feel particularly safe right now, so I'm retracting so as to not draw attention to myself. Not healthy, but survival mode. (Which I really want to get out of.) Speaking of which, I need to contact the person I dated to let him know that I contacted the ad. I don't know if he still lives there, but I don't want it to be weird if he does. (You know, if you live in shared housing for any length of time, and date people that live in shared housing, this is eventually gonna come up.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
