Pictures and hungry

Off everything, except dairy...and I'm hungry (which I knew would happen.  It's the thought of what I can't eat as much as it is the physical need for food.)  I looked up variations online, and they are all over the map, most take out eggs, and most allow rice, so I'll make that switch...rice is easier to carry around.  Coffee was easier than sugar, and I really want ice cream (and cauliflower, though, not together.)  This has occupied my brain all day.  Even went for a long walk...and thought about food, oh, and how bad sections of the lake smell, almost makes your eyes water.  (Areas have gone anaerobic.)

Feeling pretty wiped out.

Pictures.

Tree with red branch, and clouds, Aug 31/L Herlevi 2014

Bicycle, Aug 31/L Herlevi 2014

Wheel, Aug 31/L Herlevi 2014

Found a treasure, Aug 31/L Herlevi 2014

Art

Went to the free day at Bumbershoot, there was the Mayor's Art Awards, and the art exhibits were open.  They were sparsely populated, since most people were hanging out drinking beer and mingling on the lawn, which worked out great for me, since most of the art was interactive, so I got more time with it.  My favorite thing by far, and probably in a long time, was "Black Poem" by Seth David Friedman, where you entered the space and walked up to the table and closed your eyes.  Then you guided yourself across the "words" on the table with your hands.  The "words" were sculptures he had created (for other purposes, I think) and you could touch them.  You were expected to touch them, to explore them.  It was so wonderfully...sensual.  Powerful, because you get to really feel the work, and also because the artist wants you to touch it.  And so often we are told to keep our hands off of things, so there was the permission thing working there as well. (And when I went back around and saw the artist, I almost started crying when I told him how much I liked it.  Really did something for me.)

There were also: a Native American/First Nations Gallery "Wendy Red Star’s Wild West & Congress of Rough Riders of the World” featuring 11 contemporary artists in how they perceive themselves, as well as a reel of film clips using the term "Indian" or "Injun" in the background, things from how Hollywood has perceived them, that made me cringe (the constant slap of the derogatory meaning); Interstitial Theatre had an interactive space, including a piece I saw the artist making in her yard last weekend, so it was cool to make the connection of what it was; "Food for Thought," which included a hydroponic "fish-farm" made by a K-8 class at Madrona, an edible checkers game, and a structure made out of mushroom bricks (as well as a tea, made from the bricks...tasted like it looked, like sawdust; but I drank it, 'cos, how often do you get to drink made from a brick, grown out of mushrooms? right?), among others; and an interactive electronic music thing.  Sorry, I didn't find a program of the art, so I don't have names for most of it.  

In the other art building (former gallery) was a video game exhibit, which I didn't make it into, and a Jini Dellaccio photography exhibit, which I loved.  There was a film about her playing in one of the rooms, I'm gonna have to watch it now.  She was a photographer in the 50's and 60's (at least for this exhibit) and ended up shooting a lot of the up-and-coming rock bands of the era, The Sonics, The Wailers, Neil Young, Merrilee Rush...she was middle-aged when started shooting them (born in 1917.)  Interesting lady.

I know it will be crowded over the weekend, but still worth going in to see the art.  Fantastic work.  Hats off to the curators and the artists.

That's it for me.  I have a pass, but I'm working the entire day, so won't really be able to see anything besides our stage.  Which is okay, I'd probably come see our stage even if I were paying for a ticket.

Happy weekend.  Enjoy the art. (Wherever you are.)

Restless

And for the record, I'm not secretive or an "enigma" (as someone called me recently)...if asked directly, I would answer most things directly.  (I do tend to mull over things forever, still, I'm usually true to who I am, even if it doesn't look that way from the outside.)  All of us are a complicated mix of seeming contradictions, because none of us fit into a box neatly, we are not easily figured out and categorized.  And the only way to know that is to talk to them and listen.  (I think of this both because of having (and failing) to live up to other people's ideals (which may or may not be mine.) And I'm finding that burdensome and constrictive: I am who I am, I can't be who I'm "supposed" to be to fulfill someone else's expectations.  And also because I was thinking about how well-known people get put on pedestals, and then toppled when the "truth" is revealed that they are a normal, complicated, conflicted human being, rather than a super hero or demi god, and therefore not a "good" role model.  Okay, I was specifically thinking of Miley Cyrus, because she made headlines for opposing ideals this week, but could come up with many more, less extreme, examples. Or people who begin to believe their own press and forget that they are human.)

And I slept fitfully, at one point waking up from a dream where I'd made a simple enough request (to borrow a phone card to call my mom) and it somehow got twisted by the other person in the dream to the point where they resorted to name-calling, a name that questioned my character and integrity.  And all it really was, was a request to borrow a phone card to call my mother (because I suddenly had to go in for heart surgery, and I wanted to talk to my parents before that.  I was reading medical stories earlier in the day, got into my dreams, I guess.)  There was no hidden meaning or judgment in my words. 

Anyway, I lay awake thinking, "I can't live a life where I have to be silent.  Never being able to speak my opinion for fear of being misinterpreted or destroyed for having one. Or to have my words twisted to harbor hidden meaning that really isn't there." "I can't/won't live like a cowering dog, waiting to be punished for not living up to someone else's expectations of what I'm supposed to think or be."  "I want to be respected and loved for who I am, right now." (We don't have to agree.) "I want you to really hear me."  "I want you to see me."  (Neither of which are very common anymore. We just make whatever the other person says fit our story of what we want to hear, or how we want to answer.  We make the other person all about us.)  I don't want to spend my life in a muzzle.  A future spent avoiding punishment rather than living is not one I want. 

In the end, this is not about anyone else and what they do (not mine to change, and I'm not meaning to bash anyone), but rather a wake-up call for me about how I want to live, who I want to be.  The dream just made me look at this dynamic when I woke up (and it's not healthy.)

And it's a game-changing thought for me, because I think I actually mean it.

Just need to start

I had a dream within the past week or so, where I was having a spiritual, or philosophical, conversation with my mother, and as she left, she said, "People do get healed, you know." (Or something to that effect.)  Short, somewhat forceful, and matter-of-fact (though not mean.)  And then she walked away and I woke up.

And on Monday, my library hold came in (which I'd forgotten about once I'd placed it) for "Clean Gut" by Alejandro Junger, M.D.  I've read most of it, now I just have to go on the elimination diet. It's only 21 days, it either makes a difference or it doesn't.  I feel so much resistance, and you have to do it cold turkey, that's easiest.  And it's half as long as the time my doctors put me on it before.

Anyway, I'm eating my way through my cupboards for the next few days, as this version takes out all grains except quinoa, and all fruit except berries, limes, and lemons, but allows eggs, usually those are out.  Common enough trigger for people.  (Then you have to take out all the usual suspects: wheat, corn, soy, dairy, solanins, legumes, coffee, sugar (all forms, previous version allowed for small amounts of maple syrup and honey), and alcohol.  He recommends a bunch of supplements, but those are mostly out of my budget, so I'll do what I can.  I'm off work next week, so seems like a good time to start.

I generally have a healthy diet, though I haven't been good about it lately:  too busy, not cooking enough, too much sugar and alcohol (lately), etc.  My mood and energy are usually fine, it's the inflammation I want to deal with.  When I did this before, I felt fantastic (except for the dinner party in the middle, which must've had every trigger food for me, and I had to go curl up in a fetal position on their bathroom floor because every part of me hurt. Though that did highlight for me that there were things I shouldn't eat, I just was so hungry after six weeks that I didn't challenge the foods correctly and never figured out what those triggers were.)  Oh, and I was hungry all the time.  All the time.  It's hard to sustain it.  In that sense, the authors of this book take a gentler line in their approach, giving general guidelines, but recognizing that everyone is different and that it's hard to change how we eat (for most people).  After the initial 21 days, you test things, and rotate them through the diet, and they explain what's going on in your body and why.  But most of us have emotional attachments to food, it's tied to memory and identity, and sometimes when you are told to give up something, you might feel like you have to give up the memories as well, or who you are, and maybe that's why there is so much resistance (to any change, really.)

My biggest resistance is coffee.  I don't think I'm physically addicted, but man, is it a comfort "food" for me.  I have so many emotional attachments to it: safety, joy, freedom, community.  If there's coffee, I'll drink it.  Interesting.  I've given it up before, but it's usually the first thing I add back into my diet.  See how that goes.  Drinking my "farewell" cup right now.  It's gone cold.

Pictures from August 25

Pictures: the sky last night when the bats arrived.  That blur in the sky to the left of the central tree is a bat.  And the rest are the garden in August, nature doing its thing.  Collards from last year that I never got around to pulling out, so they grew more leaves.  Squash and a honey bee.  Someday I'll weed; it's getting quite wild, its own universe...populated by bees.  Lots of bees.  At the moment, I remain a witness to it all: it's their world now.

Blurry bat, August , L Herlevi 2014

Last year's collards, Aug 25/L Herlevi 2014

Summer squash blossoms, Aug 25/L Herlevi 2014

Squash leaf, Aug 24/L Herlevi 2014

Flower, Aug 25/L Herlevi 2014

Honey Bee, Aug 25/L Herlevi 2014

Looking at bats

Walking to the bus stop after work, I can hear singing in the distance.  As I pass through the square, I try to pick out where it's coming from.  It's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," a good set of lungs.  A mop of blond hair, a kid in the middle of the square, filling the space.  He sounds great.  And I realize it's the same kid that I met playing the piano at Seattle Center a little over a week ago.  I don't go over, but sometimes life is an odd novel.  I don't think I'd ever seen him before last week.

Later, I went to a bat talk.  I wanted to know what the bats I'm seeing are.  The order they arrive at dusk are: Big Brown Bats (which live in houses), Silver-Haired Bats (which roost in trees), and both of which came out tonight before I walked back home, and Hoary Bats, (I think they live in trees as well, but the man said it's rare to actually see them, even though they are there.)  And a couple smaller species that he mentioned are hard to tell apart.  The bat expert just knew what order they arrived, and also was using a device to transpose the echo-location frequency to one humans can hear, and I guess different bat species come in at slightly different ranges.  It's too dark, and they fly too erratically and fast to tell any other way (minus mist-netting them.)  There were a lot out tonight.  The lingering dusk was lovely, orange, and clear. (We were watching the bats against that backdrop.)  There were probably 30-40 people there.

Walking back in the dark, and there were a lot of people still jogging, some of the people who thought ahead had flashlights, I encountered what seemed like a woman with a stroller in the distance, only to realize as I got closer that it was a man with a cart, who, upon my approach toward him, turned, and in a low stance confronted me, growling out something about cannabis as I tried to get around him.  He wasn't all there, unstable, confrontational.  He was creepy and there was no one else near at that moment of passing.  I don't think I'll be walking around (on the trail) in the dark alone now.  (A week ago there was still enough light at the same time.  It's dark enough now that you can make out shapes, general clothing, and numbers of people passing, but little other detail.)  The image that comes into my head is one of the witches from the Scottish play.

And then home, the air stagnant and hot, the traffic deafening.  Guess I'll finish reading Chekhov ("The Seagull").  It's human nature...hardly gets dated.  Not that hard to understand (the play; human nature can be hard to understand.)  So far, does not make me bleak.  I was checking.

Later, on Sunday

It's late, I'm hungry, and I have to get up early, so just a handful of things:

I like that Nina lays into Mach over her bitterness and show of "sackcloth and ashes" for "mourning her life."

I like the scenes between Nina and Conrad that deal with the seagull.  The first how happy she is and she compares herself to the seagull.  The second when, in his jealousy, he kills a seagull and throws it at her feet.  And the third when she's lost her mind, and it's four years later, and she asks him if she is a seagull and if so why did he kill her, and how she's thought of that moment over and over again since it happened.  How can you kill someone you say you love? (Even metaphorically.)  And then how could you ever expect them to stay or come back to you? She can't come back now, he killed the opportunity, and something inside her, when he killed the bird.

I like that the role of Dev was recast as a woman, and how she (four years later) tells off Conrad who's wallowing in his misery, saying that he should try to love something more than himself.

I like the character of Dev.

I like the poetry of the "Site Specific" performance.

Oh, and I like how Dr. Sorn points out that no one bothers to really pay attention to anyone else because they're too focused on themselves and what they want and how miserable they are, and blah, blah, blah (actually, other characters use "blah, blah, blah") that they can't see anyone else, who they are, or what they need (even the people they claim to love.)

I like that Dr. Sorn and Dev (and sometimes Nina, she's in the middle) are paying attention, and what they see. (Which is also what we see, and they say the things to the other characters that we probably want to, such as "get over yourself, already!" Though not in those exact words.)

And someone said that it wasn't a remake of "the Seagull" but rather an explanation.  Fair enough.  But I feel a bit "dumbed down" to, just the same.

There are things I specifically liked about this show, this cast, but I'll get to that in another post (perhaps.)

Sunday

Had the opportunity for free photos today, so got dressed up to go, because I really need a head shot.  I've liked my hair every day for the past couple of weeks, but today I parted it weird (I don't know why) and it looked odd, and then I walked into a bathroom and looked in a mirror and I had developed welts around my left eye.  I thought about not going through with it, but then decided I would go anyway, and turn my head to the side so as to not really show the welts.  I don't have the money for head shots, good ones are expensive.  It's not just vanity, I need one to get work.  Anyway, I won't know for a couple of weeks.  There were 600 people signed up, but I went early and the waits were short.  I think there were 11-12 photographers, you got 3-4 shots at a spot.  I know some of them were goofy, I knew what my face was doing and heard the shutter click, but I'm hoping for one good one.  They are free because you had to sign a waiver that they could be used for promotional/advertising.  I don't care as long as it's a decent picture.

On my way home, I stopped at this police/fireman event and had a long conversation about crime statistics and another one about police horses.  Mostly, I wanted an excuse to pet the horse.  There was free food, and a pretty good jazz band playing.

I'm gonna see the show again (third time) tonight because I'm working Front-of-House.  I'll write what I like about it later, for fairness' sake.

(Our internet connection always says it's good, but never seems to work all that well.  Drops all the time without any explanation.)

U-District, earlier today.

On the ground, August 24/L Herlevi 2014

Insight

(after dance, walking to farmers' market):
My body is not my enemy.

The other one, from earlier in the week:

It's already been forgiven.  I've let it go. (Thought I needed to put that out there.)

Saturday

It's just me, I think.  This show, produced elsewhere, got glowing reviews, for the very things that bother me.  I know it's supposed to be a spoof on Chekhov, ("The Seagull"), with a lot of Mamet-speak thrown in for good measure, but somehow the actual pathos and human depravity (and depth of character) present in those playwrights (and in Ibsen), all of which I like, inspite of their bleakness, is missing for me here.  (They take me in as an equal, assume I can "get it.")

Went to a longer dance class this morning, a step up from what I was doing, and it was both scary and fun.  Fun because it's beginning to make sense (physically) to me, and so it was good to continue on, scary because it was an extra half-hour and I always get anxious about "oh my god, what's next?"  Part of my nature that I'm learning to live with and work through. (I was the same way in all my theatre classes, and martial arts classes.  I'm fine in the warm ups and then get a little sense of panic when we stand up or have to do something. I don't know why, just how it is.) And six months ago if you said I'd get up early and say to myself "I think I'll get up and skip on over to an advanced (for me) dance class," I would have said you were nuts.  Who is this person?

I just found this Microsoft product card on the middle of my floor that I've never seen before.  Have no idea where it came from.  Weird.

These are from earlier this morning.  Sun on water and two Einstein quotes. ("Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new." And "Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.")  A garden is calling out to be weeded.  I go.

Sun on water, Aug 23/L Herlevi 2014

Einstein, Aug 23/L Herlevi 2014

Another night, another play

There were parts I liked about the play (some of the longer monologues were thought-provoking, though still, more "telling over showing", and there were some nice connected moments between the characters/actors, when the script allowed for that.  But again, the playwright put a lot of explanation into monologues, and in asides to the audience, rather than in interactions between the characters  And I would have liked to have seen more of the latter.)  And overall, I found the writing to be self-referential, antagonistic (to the audience), overly explanatory, self-consciously clever, and the main protagonist, super whiny.  Not a bad script, but it could be stronger, with another edit and/or rewrite (show me your misery, you don't have to keep telling me you're unhappy.  Trust your performers to get your point across, that's why you have them.  And why this is a play as opposed to a short story.)  The self-centeredness, yet lack of self-awareness, of the main characters (Nina is an exception) make it hard to care. ("Stupid Fucking Seagull" by Aaron Posner, for the record.)

I think it's supposed to be funny, and it had its funny moments. And maybe I'm just feeling surly and slightly deflated by yet another message saying that the best you can hope for in love (or life) is to settle (or be settled for, ugh), that things never work out, and life is only filled with disappointment and unrequited love, so why even bother to love anyone, or to create anything? (Trigorin creates, and he's the only one that's particularly happy at the end, though he kinda' destroyed a couple of lives along the way.)  Bit bleak and cynical, yeah?  All just leaves me feeling that I'd rather be single than be with someone because I was "the best you could do, but not who you wanted," and you don't really love me. (All of which is my own baggage I took into the play, but it also seemed to be the overriding message in it.) Kinda' depressing.

Again, I don't want to be a consolation prize.  I want to be what you want.  I want to be the actual prize.  Not everyone in life has settled.

(It's Saturday morning now.  Rewrote most of this.  Think I need to go dance.)

Friday

Now that it's all starting to register in my body, the modern dance class is over.  Last night was fun.  Joyous.  Expansive.  The fall schedule is out and the only drop-in class that works with my schedule is a basic/intermediate class...maybe I'll see how advanced it is.  Kinda' afraid of hurting myself.  Tap doesn't work either, schedule-wise, though I can take it at a different school.

Finally got around to reading the essay that George suggested.  It's actually about not seeing anything in guided "visualizations."  The story is called, "The Dance of the Chicken Feet," by Bailey White from the collection "Mama Makes Up Her Mind."  She talks about how when she was a kid she had a teacher that was into the "power of the imagination" and how the kids would all have to close their eyes and imagine when the teacher would tell stories and how everyone would come up with images except her.  How all she would see was blackness, and how sometimes she would shout something out.  Then one day she saw something: chicken feet.  And later they danced, but never saw anything else.  (Bailey White reminds me a little of Erma Bombeck.)

I thought I'd only mentioned the thing about not recognizing impulses when I had them during acting exercises (and probably on stage as well), but I must've also told him how I decided I wasn't really a visual person, how I never see anything.  I often daydream or fall asleep.  And I often wondered if other people really see things, or if they are just saying they do.  Cynical, I know.  They probably do. I don't.  Anyway, the essays are all relatively short, and I've almost finished half the book.  The clown work this summer helped with the impulse recognition.

Working all weekend to finish off my internship hours.  Trying to figure out if I can afford to take both an auditioning class and a voice class this fall and still be able to eat.  Auditioning, I need.  Voice I could wait on, but I want to work with this instructor. (Voice, Shakespeare, and Solo Performance were the classes I was looking forward to in the conservatory program.  Trying to get them in somehow.) I could cook a lot on Saturdays, I guess.

I'm still feeling pretty blank.  There's nothing I can do about things I have no control over.  I'm not sad.  And I'm still trying to figure out where in my life to push more and where to let things be.  I have a tendency to be overly passive, and I'd like to be more present in the choices I make in my life, rather than let things fall where they please, if ever, all the time.  Just having trouble living out that concept.  And when I look forward, it's a blank slate.  Uncharted.  Hence..."Let go."  At least for now.

Early

Aahhhh, I need to start shooting film again.  Looking at a couple of photographers' work that shoot medium format and film and feeling nostalgic and inspired. Something about a really good negative.  Still finding the balance between "documenting" life vs. "living" it.  In the past, the camera was a barrier, kept me separate and outside, which is why I stopped.  But of course, one can document one's own creations, and there is also a need to record, as a witness: some things need to be seen.

Went to a preview of a dance concert that will be performed in October.  Same friend that invited me to the preview last year invited me again.  I was too intimidated to walk in by myself last year, but fought against that this year and went anyway.  It's the Chamber Dance Company, they are performing excerpts from "Cloudless" by Susan Marshall (2006), "Jardi Tancat," by Nacho Duato (1983), and "To Have and To Hold," by Danial Shapiro and Joanie Smith (1989.)  Beautiful.  Fantastic.  Exciting.  (I found parts of "Cloudless" to be emotionally powerful and (not) a little disturbing, but art should touch you.)  Looking forward to seeing it on the stage (saw it in a rehearsal studio.) Grateful for the invitation.

Speaking of dance, my class ends this week.  And then I will have about a month of free time (although both choirs are starting up again soon, and one of those has an event in September.)  I think I'm gonna switch to tap because I need it for something I'm working on, but if I can find a way to live (really, really) inexpensively, I might drop into the modern classes as well; I like all the core work and body awareness that it incorporates.  My only problem with it is how much weight-bearing we do on our hands (I guess that's common in Seattle), and how much that is hurting my wrist. (Quite a bit.)

I'm having trouble keeping track of what day it is, wondering if I'm running late.  Was looking forward to having time where I could read a book or write or watch a movie for fun, but now that I have it, I lack the attention span to do any of those things (at least this week.) Walk, cook, go to work, and sleep.

Maybe it's the weather.

Tuesday

The bells toll the hour, slowly passing.  Day grows hotter than expected.  Unpacked and sorted stuff (after work) until I could no longer stand the heat.  (Found my glasses(!), and all my music, but not the paperwork I'm looking for.)  More space freed up.  Cooler air finally starting to blow into the attic now.  Life starting to free up.  Watching, absorbing, trying to listen, and make sense of things.  Not there yet.

Here's the tomato.  Oh, and some birds w/clouds.  (Las palomas.)

Surprise tomato, Aug 19/L Herlevi, 2014

Las Palomas, Aug 19/L Herlevi 2014

Must be a Monday

Put on the wrong pants this morning, not a big deal, but it confused me after the fact. (I have two pairs of jeans and they are cut different...laundry, life, confusion.  My head's not really on straight today.  Not bad, just not thinking straight.)

Sky filling up with clouds, pushed forward on distant winds.  Pictures from after work and after watering.  Now the sky is almost completely overcast, though the clouds are thin. (Garden produced an actual, normal-sized tomato, much to my surprise.  I hadn't noticed it until today.  I have had bad luck with those - bit into by rats, split by rainstorms, not hot enough summers, etc.  I'd thought I'd only bought cherry tomatoes this year.  Curious.)  Fourth picture is from yesterday, this heron had lovely patterns in its feathers (and a twig stuck to its face.)

Clouds, 5 pm ish, Aug 18/L Herlevi 2014

George w/solar flare, Aug 18/L Herlevi 2014

That's the sun, Aug 18/L Herlevi 2014

Heron, Aug 17/L Herlevi 2014

I'll be consistant

And sadly, uninspired to write, not because of the shows, I just feel like a slug today.  This was Saturday night's show. (Also, added cast list to the post on Aug 8, can't find the other program.)

Act 1, "The Dock," Becky Bruhn, directed by Ali el-Gasseir (Andy Jensen, Patrick Allcorn, Shawn Law, Cody Smith).  Four friends gather at an isolated lakeside where they had spend time together when they were kids.  Dare one another to swim out to a log and back.

"The Office Witch," Jennifer Dice, directed by Peter A. Jacobs (Mik Kuhlman, Ryan Spickard, Alex Matthews, Jesica Avellone.)  The assistant in the office is also a witch.

"Burned," Pamela Hobart Carter, directed by Peter Dylan O'Connor (Jocelyn Maher, Deniece Bleha, Emma J. Bamford, Adria La Morticella.)  A ritual that a sister needs to go through, a real "doctor" shows up, possibly had to do with puberty?  Unclear.

"We Would Like to Thank 4Culture," Scot Augustson, directed by Beth Peterson (Imogen Love, Sydney Tucker, Gin Hammond, Kevin Bordi, Jake Ynzunza.)  Three groups, all doing some version of "Joan of Arc" in the park, arrive to find they had been triple booked for the space.  All three try to perform at the same time.

Intermission.

Act II. "Celestial Walkabout," Juliet Waller Pruzan and Bret Fetzer.  Directed by Maria Glanz, (Heather Gautschi, Meg McLynn, Steven G. Sterne, Jim Jewell.)  Daughter is convinced that she is to do her "Bat Mitzvah" across the solar system, out to the end, and visit her relatives along the way. So she takes off in her rocket ship, visiting, and landing on Pluto by midnight, in time to witness a great "fireworks" show in the distance.

"Against My Better Judgment," Courtney Meaker.  Directed by Jen Moon (Melissa Fenwick, Scott Abernethy, Joe Zavadil.) Woman interviewing for a job, while her free-wheeling conscious tries to sabotage the interview by trying to convince her she's selling her soul for a job.  She takes the job.

"Five Before," Jerry Kraft.  Directed by Kathryn Van Meter (Elicia Wickstead, Lori Lee Haener, Brian D. Simmons, Brad Farwell, Jaryl Draper.)  Five fetuses in the womb wonder about life and birth and if they are ready to be born.

(Apologies for all the typos, one of those days.)

The best of intentions

...soon overwhelmed once again.  Trying to tackle more of this unpacking/organizing.  Emptied three more bags and have begun the process of at least separating all the papers I randomly shoved into bags when I moved.  And facing the slow (for me) process of letting go.  I might have it sorted by the time I move again. Took a long walk in the middle of the process.  Meant to go see a friend in a show, but by the time I got home, it was 1:57 and the show was at 2 pm.  Next time.  I need to get this done.  Not being able to find anything is finally driving me nuts, enough to deal with it.  (Did find my food processor attachment and a pendant I was wondering about.)

Yesterday, riding the bus to the Seattle Center, from a distance, the city skyline looked metallic and imposing, like a fortress. Hard with metal, glass, and cement, keeping anything, soft and growing, out. Someone on the bus speaking loudly.  Asking uncomfortable, confrontational questions of another passenger.  Second person answering in a calm and unexpected way, recognizing the shared humanity with the first.  Everything changes, tension dissolves, first man has an epiphany, still quite loud, but fascinating to hear him work it out so vocally, awed, and publicly.

Walking across the center to the Rep, I pass by one of those public pianos, and walk over to take a photo.  Get into a conversation about Leonard Cohen with the player, he sings an original Hebrew verse of "Hallelujah" for me and asks me how I know about music.  Ends up talking me into singing a couple of songs with him.  I never do take the photo.

The show.  Alchemy.  It all just clicked more last night. Perhaps the lack of sleep, the pressure, the getting into a groove, the getting to know one another.  I liked it more, laughed a lot. (This weekend was more humorous than last.)  The theme was "Trial by Fire," seemed to have been easier to work with, more obviously used than previous night's.  On to the next thing, not sure what that is, talking to a friend, "just audition."  Yeah.

Back to sorting.  The sooner I do it, the less it will hang over me.

Possibilities, Aug 16/L Herlevi 2014

Bug bite, show

Internet connection has returned.  Sitting around, pouring vinegar on my elbow in hope that it will help with this bite I got yesterday (unknowingly, walked into the bathroom after the 14/48 show and pulled up my sleeve to look at my elbow and it was swollen to 2x it's size and really hot; never felt anything bite me.)  Went to a potluck at the garden earlier and people offered advice, one of whom was doctor (so my lucky day, in a way) and he said it's mostly just wound care at this point.  Someone else suggested vinegar (as well as the baking soda paste and/or meat tenderizer-can you still buy meat tenderizer?) It's still really hot to the touch and feels like someone punched me hard in the elbow whenever it touches against anything. Apologies for the photo.

Angry elbow, Aug 16/L Herlevi 2014

Initially, I thought my immune system had just decided to go completely nuts (always a possibility) and I was panicking about that prospect.  And then I thought I was having an allergic reaction and wondered if I should go to the hospital.  But I just ended up jumping off the bus and buying benedryl at a convenience store that was open, since nothing is in my neighborhood.  Thought I got lucky in catching a bus with a number I wanted on it, only to have the bus driver say half-way through the route, that he had the wrong route number, although half the route was the same.  Got off and waited another hour for the right bus.  The Seahawks' game had just gotten out, so buses were running late.  In retrospect, coulda' stayed for the 10:30 pm show.  I like seeing them the second time, they are often different (lines more down, change in interaction or meaning, etc.)

The theme was "If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix It," and only loosely used in the plays.  (Very loosely.)  Act I: "But New Thoughts Appear in Our Mind," by Pamela Hobart Carter and directed by Maria Glanz (Melissa Fenwick, Sydney Tucker, Jocelyn Maher, and Deniece Bleha) two girls and their pets (birds? gerbils? rabbits?...probable birds, but unclear, something living in a cage.)  Animals talk about escape, but forget, girls have a parallel experience, and eventually one opens the cage, but the birds (?) forget to escape and she decides they don't want change after all.  One of the girls escapes.

"Candiru Means I Love You," by Scot Augustson, directed by Peter A. Jacobs. (Adria La Morticella, Heather Gautschi, Alex Matthews, Jaryl Draper.)  Man in doctor's office with pain in his penis, finds out he has been invaded by a parasitic (?) fish when he pee'd in a river. Problem is solved with singing.

"Olive Juice," by Courtney Meaker, directed by Kathryn Van Meter. (Steven G. Sterne, Brian D. Simmons-who was an excellent dog, and Mik Kuhlman.)  Couple shows up at a block party with their dog who wants to play "ball" but they get into an argument (ongoing) and forget about the dog. Something is resolved.

"The Tukwila 500," by Bret Fetzer and Juliet Waller Pruzan, directed by Peter Dylan O'Connor. (Patrick Gautschi, Brad Farwell, Elicia Wickstead, Imogen Love, Emma J. Bamford.)  Car race.  Announcers discuss the twisted path of the three drivers.  Two women, who became a couple, moved in together in the 'burbs.  One has an affair with other's best male friend, and eventually leaves her for him.  Jilted lover wins the car race, other two walk off as a couple.

Intermission.

Act II.  "Three Girl Pile-Up," by Jennifer Dice, directed by Beth Peterson. (Cody Smith, Jim Jewell, Jake Ynzunza, Joe Zavadil.)  Stage dads at a meet-and-great for the dads at a beauty pageant for their daughters,where they try to out-compete each other and the newbie dad tries to figure out how to fit in.

"Sand Script," by Jerry Kraft, directed by Jen Moon.  (Jesica Avellone, Kevin Bordi, Shawn Law, Meg McLynn.)  Couple chooses to go to "nature" therapy with therapists rather than jail time.  End up shipwrecked on a deserted island.  Therapists bicker, and have only theory, while "troubled" couple work together to save their butts.

"Let's Talk About Monica," Becky Bruhn, directed by Ali el-Gasseir.  (Gin Hammond, Lori Lee Haener, Scott Abernathy, Andy Jensen, Ryan Spickard.)  Two couples outside for a BBQ, discussing their favorite detectives and the death of "Monica" thought to have been murdered by her husband.  Husband shows up with her diary. Ensuing efforts to collect evidence, and stay away from the husband, proceed.

I could see the theme the easiest in the first one and "Sand Script."  Would have liked to have watched the first act again to try to follow them better.  The second act was more cohesive for me, but they also had the extra hour to work on them.  I enjoyed last week's more, but I suspect that might be partially because I was volunteering last weekend and felt more connected to it.  This week, I'm just an observer.  Can't recall what the theme is for tonight.

Even if I can't always follow it, I do enjoy watching new work get created.  And I appreciate the actors committing to whatever they are asked to do and stretch.  And they do.

Bats

The sky is overcast when I look out the window wondering if it is time to get up.  Outside it's drizzling and warmer than I expect.  The woman at the coffee shop across the street asks if I had the day off (when I was off sick, I went in and tried to read for a while) and apologizes for how chaotic it had been that day, saying it didn't seem like I ever relaxed.  It really wasn't that big of a deal, I chose to stay, and ended up doing the puzzles in the paper instead of reading, but it's funny what people notice about you, or who notices, or that anyone was paying attention.  Kinda' surprised me.

Last night after dance, I walked, as usual.  Termites and other insects in abundance, later, as it got darker more bats out.  I counted three, there were probably more, but had at least three around me for about a 1/2 mile on the way back to the road.  I stopped and watched them every couple of minutes, took an hour to walk about a mile.  They were diving and turning right next to people, but as it was getting dark, and people don't tend to pay attention, no one seemed to notice.  I kept expecting to smack into them, though I suppose the bats are more aware than I am.  Back in the late 80's I lived at the far end of a lake for five months.  It was close to a city, but nestled in between foothills in such a way that there was no reception for either tv or radio.  When it was warmer (I lived there from April to early September) I'd sit on the dock in the evening and watch the bats.  Often hearing their chirps echo back off of the water.  So, last night, in the temporary breaks from the sound of traffic, I tried to listen.  Sometimes I thought I heard it, but I might be deluding myself.  They were fairly large for bats, bodies only slightly smaller than the palm of my hand.  I was happy to see them, that they are here, (and eating the bugs around me.)

It was 8:55 pm when I finally passed a clock and walked out to the main road.  Daylight completely faded.  Too overcast for shooting stars.

Sick day and not quite articulate

When I wrote the initial post this week about dealing with the chains on yourself, I was referring to all the hurts and slights and rejections and wrongs we hold onto, whether we did them or someone else did, the things that keep us stuck in the past and in patterns that keep us repeating the same things over and over.  Breaking those chains and allowing ourselves to truly live.  I wasn't necessarily thinking about depression or addiction or self-harming, and if you are dealing with those, seek help, though try to find someone who will really hear you, even if drugs help, you need to be understood as well, to be seen as an actual human being in all the complexity that you are.

Anyway, taking a sick day, fighting off a virus or something.  Started re-reading Thomas Moore's "Dark Nights of the Soul."  I asked for it for my birthday or Christmas some years back after coming out of a particularly rough (though short, only a month) one of my own,  Thought it would be useful, looking for meaning in it all.  If life is a spiritual journey, and a circular one at that, we all spend time circling and passing through hell.  When I was younger, I spent a lot of time there until I realized I could leave (years.)  And I've been back through (when I thought I was done with that), though for shorter durations.  I guess one of the reasons I wanted to read the book is because I couldn't necessarily see it as a clinical condition, I wanted to find a deeper meaning.  My life was a wreck and I didn't know how to begin to fix it...I needed step-by-step instructions of how to get out, someone to hear me, to know me, more than I needed drugs.  Sometimes life just sucks, and it's all coming at you, and it's more than you can handle.

Anyway, I was telling my sister yesterday that if we all have to pass through hell, again and again (makes me think of Persephone), I would like to enjoy my time away rather than dread the thought of going back.  I was also thinking that no one else can fight your inner battles for you, but it's nice to know there are those that have your back, who will support you while you face them.  And while I hate being there, I'll admit, if I allow it to, it changes me, and I learn from it.  It strips you bare and breaks you open.  (Pilgrimage can do this too, because it takes you out of your ordinary life.  And I've done those since, I suppose as a way to go on my own accord as opposed to being surprised.  They weren't a cake walk, but with all the excess of life cleared away to just the basics of food and shelter (by choice), it was simpler to get to the core of things.  Not easy, just direct.)  Oh, and acting.  And clown work.  It's funny, all the internal strife somehow made me more positive, more of an optimist, more willing to search for the good at the core, and I guess it was worth it.

Anyway, if you are passing through, when you pass through, seek support, find a guide (like Dante), get help if you need it.  Let go of the chains you put on yourself, learn from it, and let yourself walk out of the other side.  You don't have to stay there, there is daylight, too.

Another goodbye

A teacher of mine said she thought that comedians made great dramatic actors.  I can't remember the context, but I agree with her.  I think it was the same conversation where the statement "Actors are athletes of the effing heart," (daily baring their souls, the full range of humanity, so the rest of us don't have to) came up, and either way, those go together.

Comedy, especially stand-up, is an incredibly vulnerable experience.  You are exposing you, just you, to a bunch of strangers who want you to "be funny" and make them laugh.  And if you can't, you get ripped apart.  And you get up and try again, and "toughen" up as they say, grow a thicker skin, develop a persona, a schtick, so that the rejection gets removed slightly away from your true self.

So we get used to seeing the schtick, the over-the-top, the mask.  And then when they do a dramatic role, the good ones let that drop, and we see this raw, vulnerable human being before us, and it's beautiful, and a privilege to see it.  It's rare that we see that in anyone, we do whatever we can to hide the vulnerability.  Vulnerability is viewed as a weakness, and the weak get picked off and eaten.

When she said it, I originally thought of Jim Carey in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," because I was so awed by the subtlety of that performance; or Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation" or even "Rushmore."  For me, it was such a contrast from the over-the-top, the snide, the personas that they had.

And then there's Robin Williams, who was funny, and charming, and had wonderful comedic timing, doing "Good Morning Vietnam," which I thought, "wait, Robin Williams is doing that?"  And it was good.  And then "Dead Poet Society," and "Good Will Hunting." And it was great.  Powerful stuff.  Some of my favorite movies, especially when I was younger and lost.

Thanks for the time, the laughs, the vulnerability, the hope, the talent, the deep soul, and the human being you shared with us.

RIP.

Pictures because it's too hot to sleep

Admiring a cloud that looked like a crocodile with wheels, and then the sound of rain hitting the roof.  Decide to go out for a walk, it's too hot in the house.  A few peals of thunder, then nada.  Lightning flashing across the sky over and over.  In silence.  Someone said they thought it was heat lightning, or too high in the sky, too far away to hear the thunder.  A little more rain, quickly evaporating off of the hot pavement, making the air more humid.  The flashes continue, lighting up the sky, like watching the flicker of televisions from the street.  No sound.  When I come back in the house, if anything, it feels more hot, more humid than before.

This is the couscous dish. Everything is mixed up.

Couscous dish, Aug 10/L Herlevi 2014

My "bigfoot" sighting of what I think is a Solitary Sandpiper with one of it's offspring (which is a mini of the adult, there were three or four of them, on the other side of the pond.)  A picture of the Fill.  And a picture of a bee on a borage plant. (Oh, and another angel cloud.) No reason for any of these, but it's too hot to sleep. Cheers.

Solitary Sandpipers, Aug/L Herlevi 2014

The Fill, Aug/L Herlevi 2014

Borage, Aug 11/L Herlevi 2014

Cloud, Earlier, August 11/L Herlevi 2014

We're all the same

And again. While we all have inner battles we need to face and conquer or at least come to terms with, we don't have to do it alone.  Please ask for help if you need it.  It is not a weakness to ask for help.  This stuff is hard.  We are not usually taught how to face emotional pain, or addictions, it's not intuitive or easy for most people.  There is the idea that we have to pull our own selves up...it's not true.  We don't.  We need each other, and that's good for everyone.  We are not alone.  There is a lot of pain in the world right now.  There are those who want to help.  Please find them if you need them.

And be kind.  Especially to yourself.

RIP Robin Williams.

The second night (revised)

Threw out my hip wearing tennis shoes...go figure. (This would be an ongoing issue I went to months of physical therapy for, from wearing bad shoes.  A difficult place to stretch.)

(Trying to write in cast from memory as I lost the program.)
Before I forget, the seven plays from Saturday were (and again, I thought everyone involved really delivered on Saturday): "Devlin Lake Bible Camp," by Rob Jones and directed by The Hyland/Belyea Experience.  Seemingly typical summer bible camp, with only two campers, the Reverend "Bob" and his intern "Penny," or is it? (Lauryn Rilla Hochberg, Evan Whitfield, Christian Mastin, Trevor Young Marston.)  "Camp of the Apocalypse," by Eddie Levi Lee and directed by Erin Kraft.  Summer camp, two kids on the make, have snuck out when a homeless man comes across them. And the conversation that follows.  (Standout performance by Clark Sandford as the homeless man. Clark Sanford, Andrew McMasters, Jill Snyder-Marr.)  One of my favorite plays of the weekend.  "Home," by Elizabeth Heffron and directed by Meghan Arnette. (Tracy Leigh, Carter Rodriguez, Danielle Daggerty.) Two (young) teen sisters have been brought to a cult by their father and held against their will.  They want to go home.  "Vengeance Period," by Nick Edwards and directed by Roy Arauz.  Five (young) teen girls (all named "Katie") have been brought together to battle it out for what turns out to be a $25 Applebee's gift card, ala "The Hunger Games," and try to work out why they were chosen.  They band together and rebel against the principal that sent there.  (Standout performance by Mahria Zook as the one that unites the girls together; Mahria Zook, Jordi Montes, Shawnmarie Stanton, Tonia Daley-Cambell, Jane Ryan.)  Intermission.

"Wit Beyond Measure," (my other favorite of the weekend) by Ben McFadden and directed by Brian Faker. (Cristi Cruz, Pamela Cole-Hudson, Stacey Bush, Andre Nelson.)  A woman remembers a time at a summer camp where she fell in love with another girl, whom she never saw again; a final sweet memory that is fading away due to early onset Alzheimer's. (Reminded me a little of "Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit," by Jeanette Winterson, mixed with "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.")  "The Clockwork Heart," by Darian Lindle and directed by Katherine Stewart.  A young inventor, obsessed with his invention, much to the dismay of his engineer father, finally gives her his heart (literally) and she comes to life taking on his identity to be the son his father wanted. (Brandon Felker, Sam Read, Kasey Elizabeth Harrison.)  "Emma Turns a New Leaf," by Jose Amador and directed by Anthony Winkler.  Aliens incarnating into human women to become something out of "The Real Housewives" type of "real" woman.  When one begins to become a little more feminist, she is sent to "reeducation camp," and when she returns she has conformed to be like the others. (Anastasia Higham, Amy Hill, Jeremy Topping, Lisa Nix, D'Arcy Harrison.)

Seeing all the actors, who were essentially pulled out of a "can" for casting assignments to the plays, pull off these roles, makes me think casting directors could think out of the box a little more.  All the actors owned the roles and sold them, regardless of how "against type" they may have been cast.  It really didn't matter.  Take more chances.

Now that I have a free day, all I think of is food

On a cooking kick, mostly because I suddenly have money and time to shop (been broke for the past ten days), and it would be good to have something I can eat in the house.  First thing is I've ended up with a lot of couscous and have been thinking about doing something with mandarin oranges (the type in a can) and kalamata olives.  While buying the olives, I found some in a brined mix along with figs, so bought some of that (in bulk), and then decided it also needed green onions.  So it was 1 cup couscous (2 cups boiling water, it's the instant kind, probably coulda' used a slightly less liquid), 1 can oranges (drained and chopped), 1/4 cup of the olive/fig mixed chopped up, one scallion (sliced thin), and some of the mandarin liquid mixed with 1/2 a lime's worth of juice, salt, and olive oil as a dressing.  Today I chopped up pistachios and added those to it for texture.  Not bad, I'd eat it again. (Which is good; it made quite a lot.)

Now I'm making pesto with walnuts, because I ended up with a bag of basil.  And I'll probably make a fruit salsa with apricots and blueberries because it was the end of the season and the apricots were on sale at the farmer's market. (Cilantro, lime, red onion, jalapeño, salt.)  I'm growing tomatillos, and those are doing surprisingly well, guess they don't need much attention; I haven't been giving them much. Can make a salsa with those, too. (I have no knack for growing cilantro, have tried several times.)

All of this to put off having to clean up after some batteries that decided to suddenly corrode all over my bookcase within the last couple of days.  Reminder to recycle those as soon as possible.  Ugh.

The pesto is "meh," had to use a blender as I can't find my food processor attachment, and the blender doesn't really work all that well.  I'll still eat it, but it doesn't excite me.  I don't like basil all that much, but someone gave it to me.

It's already scorching upstairs, in for another hot week.

(I'm choosing to share this.) If crap comes up (skeletons, ghosts, buried pain), might as well deal with it and be done with it...ain't going away until you face it.  Forgiveness and letting go lets you move on and own your own life.  Don't let your past control you.  (Not saying it's easy, I know it's not, I've been looking at this shit and dealing with it for years, but it's getting better...are you happy with where things are for you?  Start. Your life is yours.)  If you need a hand to hold or help, please reach out for it...there are people that can help to process all this stuff so you can let it go and move on.  Ask them.

Quite frankly, the world could use more forgiveness and not taking our personal crap out on each other right now. And a whole lot more love, starting with loving and accepting yourself, all of you, and then dealing with the bad stuff from a place of that self love.  Beating yourself up is pointless, (just a vicious cycle where you make yourself feel like crap, but nothing changes.)  Face it and deal with it.

And know that there is love enough for you.  You are loved.

Late

The theme tonight was "Away at Camp."  If anything, across the board everyone had stepped up their game:  stage combat, accents, someone had to sing, the stories were particularly strong.  I was mentioning that to someone and she said she'd heard someone else say that when you get to the point of that much lack of sleep you are too tired to block ideas.  Maybe.  Great show at any rate.  Would've liked to have stayed for Act II of the second showing, but wasn't sure how late my bus ran.  As it turned out, they stop at 1:15 am or so, so it's good that I left (and I have to get up early.)  I especially liked the plays in the second act and wanted to see them again, but there were a couple of drunk women in the bar behind me whooping it up as if they were at a sporting event making it difficult to hear the actors, (especially when the mics had to be killed after they were hit with a water balloon, and in general not really seeming to get what the stories were) and being so loud that they drew attention to themselves and away from the stage.

For whatever reason, I was particularly social today and so met a lot of people, or re-met them.  Some days that is much easier, good timing for it.

I dreamt that I had chains chopped loose and I ran forward and jumped into someone's arms I didn't know was waiting.  There were others there, too, though I didn't see their faces.  Maybe it represents finally breaking free and letting myself win.

Tired, not particularly as coherent as I'd like to be.

Tired in a good way

Spent all day at 14/48 doing kraft services (chopping lettuce and washing dishes, basically, feeding people.) Scheduled for eight hours but hung around for ten...I wanted to see the 8 pm show and it was too short of time to go home, and it was hot out, plus I got fed. It was fun.  Got there at 8:45, so was there from the time the directors got the scripts until tomorrow's theme was chosen.  Tonight's was "Lifting the Veil."

I'm still impressed with how good the acting is (the actors aren't assigned until 10 am, first performance is at 8 pm.)  And the directors made full use of the space (it was in the parking lot of the Rep; there were also a laser concert at the fountain, KEXP Concerts at the Mural, and a Lady Gaga concert going on at the Seattle Center at the same time.)  A lot of entrances were from the back, and some used the outside space above the parking lot, and a couple of the plays had interaction with the band.  And nice to see the actors just going for it, standouts being Tonia Daley-Cambell in Ben McFadden's "Off the Grid," (directed by Ariel Roy Arauz; Tonia Daley-Cambell, Shawnmarie Stanton, Lisa Nix) and Tracy Leigh in Darian Lindle's "Dressed in Blood," (directed by Kathryn Stewart; Clark Sandford, Sam Read, Jeremy Topping, Tracy Leigh) the first as becoming at one with the universe and the latter having cold water poured all over her, and when she was on the ground she didn't flinch, though I did, thinking how much of a shock it is to jump in cold water when you are not expecting it.  The first about a mother and daughter out hiking, disconnected to one another as people because they are connected to social media, documenting the moments, rather than living them, when they meet "Dream" a free-spirited woman that convinces them to let go of their technology and experience the world.  The second about a girl who was murdered on the night of her prom and whose ghost haunts the local quarry.

The other playwrights were: Elizabeth Heffron, "The Size of a Quarter," (Kasey Elizabeth Harrison, Mahria Zook, Anastasia Higham, Jill Syder-Marr.) About four virgins who are going to sacrifice themselves so that rampant capitalism can continue on, only to find one of them has lost her hymen, so they go look for it. directed by Meghan Arnette.  Nick Edwards, "Statues on Hilltops," (Evan Whitfield, Brandon Felker, Jane Ryan) about a wishful memory of what you wanted a relationship to be, immortalized in a statue, directed by Erin Kraft.  José Amador, "Might've Known," (Andre Nelson, Lauryn Rilla Hochberg, Cristi Cruz) about two friends involved with the same man and only one is aware of it, directed by The Hyland/Belyea Experience (two directors.)  Eddie Levi Lee's "The Voice is Familiar," (Pamela Cole-Hudson, Christian Mastin, D'Arcy Harrison, Carter Rodriquez, Andrew McMasters), about the voices in a woman's head and how she commits suicide and them meets them, directed by Brian Faker.  And Rob Jones',"Matrimonial Hitch," directed by Anthony Winkler, (Amy Hill, Stacey Bush, Danielle Daggerty, Jordi Montes, Trevor Young Marston) about a couple on the day of their wedding when it is revealed to everyone but the bride, that the husband to be had an affair with her mother.

The sky overhead went from blue to sunset to dusk to the stars and an (almost full) moon out by the end of the seventh play.  I left after the first show to beat the Lady Gaga traffic.  Had a good time.  Glad I did it.

Electric

Woke up happy, wrapped up in a blanket I must've grabbed in the middle of the night, the random puffs of cool air blowing in from one window, then the other, then...nothing.

Excited all day, but by the time I get to clown jam (which generally, I love) I've had a huge drop in enthusiasm.  The heat, I suppose, all of our energy was dropping in the beginning. I wasn't feeling very present.  Approaching stuff more from an actor, or regular person, than clown.  Hard time staying in the moment, though I enjoyed watching other people.  By the time it was over, my blood sugar had plummeted, even though I ate right before.  Missed the bus, so got home after 11 pm.  Cranky, tired and desperate to eat something.  (Maybe we burned more energy than it seemed at the time.)  Nothing readily edible in the house (uncooked brown rice, etc.), and no stores open, so am currently downing the remainder of a pint of ice cream and granola.

Dinner of champions.

Volunteering at 14/48 over the weekend, still pretty psyched about that, in spite of my over-riding crankiness.

Oh, and as we were walking toward my bus stop, told two of the clown folks that I was working on something.  They said I should bring it to the jam.  Now I'm accountable.  That's a good thing.

Quiet

In a lull.  Not much to say, though a lot to think about, about what happens next.  Internship ended early today, so I went to the Market, fighting my way through the summer crowds to visit an herb shop.  I have a bug bite that seems to have gotten infected, and in spite of putting anti-biotic ointment on it, (I really don't like using that stuff) it really hurt by the end of the day.  I was planning on buying a tincture, but ended up asking for advice. The woman made me this oil blend of frankincense, tea-tree oil, and lavender oil.  It already looks better.  (And the oil smells really good, there's this menthol quality about it, but not as high as peppermint, it also has this deeper earthy quality to it, like a cedar forest on a hot day.  Amazingly pleasant.)

Came home and the bathroom sink was broken, but also had an email about it, that it will be fixed tomorrow.  (He's definitely being more diplomatic than I have been.) Heard about a block party down the street a ways, and wandered over.  It was nice: there was a potluck, and a brass band played and 50-60 people showed up. (They're going on all over the city tonight. It's part of a neighborhood watch program, a chance to get to know your neighbors and find out what's going on.)

I still love this neighborhood.  There are loads of people around, I can walk out the door and go a 1/2 block and be around people if I want to be, or not.  There are a lot of free places to go if I want to get out of the house (which is different from most of the other neighborhoods I've lived in.)  And while the neighborhood itself is getting rapidly gentrified, there's a wide range of people that hang out around here at any given time.  I'm curious to see how that will change once the daylight wanes and the air gets colder.  I'm here for a year, so I'll get all the seasons.

Don't have a poem or anything.  Rather blank.  Here's a link to my favorite Stevie Wonder song, probably brought onto my radar by the movie "High Fidelity."  Been on a Stevie kick today, yesterday it was the band XTC (or The Dukes of the Stratosphere.) "I Believe When I Fall in Love."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H--_-gPX3Nw

Electricity back on

Went to a clown workshop today.  Fun stuff.  I signed up for it awhile ago. I never know what to expect in performance workshops so I'm always dealing with this level of anxiety, "I can do this.  Oh, god, it's my turn again, what if I suck?"  Always the dialogue in the back of my head, but I get up and do it anyway.  I don't know if it will ever go away.  I am finding it less paralyzing as time goes on, but it keeps running in the background.  I want to explore the conflict between the dread and the desire to perform. My clown definitely lives there.

The instructor said he could always see the dread, but that it was somehow relaxed.  I've been feeling it all year, but I've finally decided to accept it and work with it.  I also had several fortuitous mishaps which I was able to work with...a welcome gift.  When the unexpected happens, you must acknowledge it and own it.

He also mentioned that all performers have an energetic signature, and that's where you work from, and since we were all so different, it was fun to see what alchemy emerged when these very different energies came together for partner exercises.  I'd never thought of that or heard it before.  But that makes sense, it's what you bring to every performance you do, you can't be something you are not.  You don't actually need to be, and that's liberating.  You both bring what you are to the table and see where that meets and where it leads. (All the partner exercises were shared tasks.  No speaking.)

Another liberating thing is the realization that I've spent so much of my life trying to win the approval of those who will never give it.  I guess I thought if I had it, I'd be someone.  But even if I got it, after so much striving, I wouldn't actually be me, only a shadow of someone I think someone else wants me to be.  Their withholding is no fault of mine, only a choice they are making, one they are free to make.  My obsession with it gives it power.  They don't owe me anything, I can walk away.  There are other people who already or are willing to believe in me; when I am around them, I feel the strength of my worth.  I am seeing that the carrot works better than the stick for inspiration.  I am learning to give my best to the work because someone believes in me vs. to try win someone's approval.  You know, duh, but some things take a long time to sink in.  Better now than later.

The reason I put myself through all this is because like anything, it's a discipline and needs to be practiced/exercised; and my enjoyment is greater than my dread.  Then there is the idea that if no one else is hiring you, you can create and perform your own work.  And the exercises are good both for the daily practice and for exploration and idea generation.

This work is really growing in me, this might be what fills the vacuum this year.  I came up with an idea for a performance; the part I have is the middle section, need to figure out the why of it and where it goes from there: what's the story?  I rarely have this clear of an idea of what I want to do.  I hope I can trust it.

Another show

Sometimes things seem meant to be.  So, the power inexplicably went out on our block around 4 pm, it came back on about an hour later, but not in the attic, where I live.  (Apparently, the breaker box is in someone's room, someone who is currently in Vegas.  It's 11 pm now, still no power.  There needs to be a back-up plan.  This was a problem in my former house as well.  The landlords build in as many rooms as they legally can (in this house, more than is legal), blocking off access to water mains and circuit breakers, so the tenants are kinda' stuck if something breaks down and the person who lives in the room is gone.)  'Nough about that, my computer is overheating so I'll write fast.

So I had reserved a ticket to a show, "Hold These Truths," by Jeanne Sakata at ACT for tonight, but I was feeling like I didn't want to go out and was going to call and cancel the ticket.  My singing/polyglot roommate was teaching my musician roommate fado music, which was sounding pretty amazing and I was enjoying listening to it, but as my power was still out by that point, I decided to go to the show after all.

It was based on the life of Gordon Hirabayashi; I wrote about him earlier in the year, after I had gone to a symposium on him.  He was a Nisei, American citizen, who refused to obey the curfew put on American citizens of Japanese descent and also refused to report for internment camp.  He was tried and convicted on both counts.  The conviction was appealed all the way to the Supreme Court, where he lost.  He was retried in 1987 and exonerated, when new evidence emerged that evidence had been suppressed during the original trial.  Even after his exoneration, he spent the last years of his life in Canada.

Anyway, the play was fantastic.  It's a one-man show.  Good-pacing, and a powerful story about principle and courage (as well as cowardice), and wrongs that were committed.  When he was interviewed both for this play, as well as for a documentary that was made in the early 90's, he was very concerned of the same thing happening to other ethnic groups.  It can so easily happen again. (You have to stay awake.  And speak up.)

During the Q & A after the show, one person said that his mother was one of the people who gave money to help fund Mr. Hirabayashi's defense.  Regular people paid for his defense with checks of $5 and $10.  There was a Japanese exchange student in the audience who had just arrived in the States today, her grandmother was living in Canada at the time of the war and her family was forced to sell everything and go back to Japan.  Another man was from a country where something similar had happened to his family, he had just flown back from Stockholm a couple of hours before the show started tonight.

It's powerful.  I pretty much cried through the whole thing.  My only regrets for the show are that it's playing a relatively small room, and for a very short run (four shows, the last of which is tomorrow), so not enough people will see it.  And I feel it's important that people come see it.  We need to remember all of our history, the noble as well as the ugly; as one of the Justices said (to the effect) in one of the other cases (there were three that went to the Supreme Court) that was not a unanimous decision, you can't fight for democracy abroad while letting it crumble at home, because then you have won nothing.

Far and away the best show I've seen this year: story, writing, acting, directing, technical...all spot on.  I've mentioned before that it's important that everyone working on a show should be on the same page as far as the story they want to tell and why...this production nailed that.  Just fantastic.

Thunder storms

giving me an excuse to hang around the house.  Walking around the lake, realized I want time where I don't "have to" get anywhere or do anything...I think that's called a vacation.  Shortly after this thought, a thunder storm struck right above us.  Everyone was brought to shore (there were crew races in progress, and swimmers.)

I'm sitting around now looking for cauliflower recipes and waiting for my laundry and imagining all the things I would add raisins to if I had any (and I don't even really like raisins): roasted cauliflower (golden raisins), the apple-fig compote I made earlier, couscous, rice, etc...I only really like them cooked, preferable with a lot of liquid.  It's an odd thing to crave.

These are from earlier.  Was taking the top picture when the first peal of thunder rolled through.  It took a while to begin to rain, massive drops of water.  The last picture is what the sky looked above me, even while it was pouring in front of me.

On Duty, August 2/L Herlevi 2014

Everyone is out of the water now, Aug 2/L Herlevi 2014

Then the rain fell, Aug 2/L Herlevi 2014

As the rain fell, Aug 2/L Herlevi 2014