Thursday

Off of social media for a while.

Christmas Day, December 25/L Herlevi 2015

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve

Seattle, December 21/L Herlevi 2015

Waiting.  So much more to do, so much I haven't gotten done, and part of my head basically screaming, and part of me calm and methodical: what gets done, gets done.  I'm waiting for laundry.  I have four hours until I have to go to rehearsal for singing tonight, and after that, driving.  (Which seems fine, so far.)

I woke up in the early morning, coughing.  Decided I should take the cough medicine, but needed to take that with food, so went down to find something to eat, ran into my housemate in the dark kitchen: we scared each other.  He was making soup as I rummaged through the fridge for cheese, said something about a midnight snack, but it was almost 4 am.  Thought the medicine would leave me groggy, but I'm fine.  Looked out the window just before going back to sleep and somehow convinced myself there was snow falling, so ran downstairs and walked outside: only rain, not nearly cold enough.  Someone was waiting across the street with a dog, a car pulled over and picked her up: travel.  But no snow.  No rain so far today, either.

My boss' boss heard me coughing and suggested I go to the doctor, so I did.  Not contagious, but she gave me prescriptions to calm my lungs down.  Walking Downtown to the bus stop after, decided to check out the gingerbread houses at the Sheraton, waited for close to an hour to view six pieces based on the Episodes I-VI of Star Wars.  The mood was festive and the pieces were cool.  Went to Pacific Place to see how it was decorated, walked into hear carolers singing and then the nightly "snowfall" so I stayed to see what that was.  It's like little sudsy drops, not sure what it's made of, doesn't seem to leave any residue.  It was packed, people were happy.  It was nice, I was trying to feel more "Christmas-y."  (Now I'm listening to the Christmas-music station.)

Episode IV, Sheraton, December 21/L Herlevi 2015

Episode VI, Sheraton Hotel, December 21/L Herlevi 2015

Yesterday, mid-day, the air was cold and damp, high rain clouds, the smallest of raindrops spitting down, but not overly gloomy, a wind picking up, made me want to be in some port city in England...also makes me happy, expectant for something good.  Feel like I need to go to a beach somewhere.  I still have errands to run.

Rushing back to work, air colder, increasing gloom, two women stop me, I say that I need to get back to work, they ask if they can sing me a carol, so I stop.  Say "yes," and listen as they sing "Silent Night" for me.  A moment of shared stillness, before rushing off again.

Went to Larson's (a Scandanavian bakery) to get some bread, forgot where it was, so parked and walked, a little confused by a lack of traffic; it's always a zoo on Christmas Eve.  After wandering a few blocks, realized I must be in the wrong neighborhood, and drove to the right one.  Not as ridiculous as last year (and I kinda' like it), I grabbed a number (only 27 ahead of me) and walked over to the fish shop to get something for Christmas dinner.  By the time I walked back in, they were on my number.  A little boy was excitedly pointing out the snowman Christmas cookies to me, his nose pressed up against the glass case.  The Danish Kringle's were flying out the door.  Someone said they bake 1,000/day and can't keep the table stacked.  (I bought cardamom bread, closest thing to Finnish pulla.)

More to follow.  Time to check the laundry.

Tuesday, Move Done

Well, when one's hand is finally forced...one does what needs to get done.  And in the end, it was only a car load of stuff, but been dreading it for a while.  Recycled three boxes worth.  Dumped everything into the living room so I had to deal with it.  Enjoyed looking through all the photos, and reading old letters, and even old college papers...I was more articulate than I remember.  Also, found some old Maria Irene Fornes' scripts from theatre class, do not remember being assigned those at all.  Surprised.  Anyway, it's all upstairs now, but somehow it's more organized than before, only I can't really get into my closet at the moment.  And at one point I was trying to play the drums, so that still has to be moved here; he's bringing the kick by tomorrow, but that's the end of it.

I feel grimy.  All the boxes have been in a damp basement for eight (!) years.  Many of the photos were sticking together, but otherwise didn't seem damaged in any way.  Got a surprising amount done today; I suppose I was focused because I had to be.

I took off today, went for a short walk in the morning: cold and gloomy.  Moody.  Reminded me of my first winter in Seattle.  Was living in a house in Wallingford, it was just before Christmas.  Used to walk into the U-District and sit on the floor of the aisles in B. Dalton (I think) it was, and read Dylan Thomas poems.  I remember it being cold and gray, and I was working at Toys R Us at South Center, swing shift, so my mornings were free.  I had just dropped out of college because I couldn't pay tuition, and I owed back tuition.  (I'd somehow talked the school into letting me stay one final quarter without actually paying for it, including room and board.  I was ballsy, because I didn't know what else to do.  They gave me almost a year to pay it back.)  Don't remember if it snowed that year; just cold and gray, like now.  I only stayed here for a few months, on April Fool's Day I was offered a job up in Bellingham that had free room and board for six months, so I took it.  (My life has changed several times on April Fool's Day; generally for the better.  That's why I remember it.)

Here's an attempt to capture the moodiness of the day.  Also, the Hellebores were in bloom; about two months early.

Heron, December 15/L Herlevi 2015

Moody, December 15/L Herlevi 2015

Greenlake, December 15/L Herlevi, 2015

Early Bloom, December 15/L Herlevi, 2015

Light at the end of the tunnel

The rain is hitting the window now, and I'm sitting here coloring.  We just had our last Finnish engagement for the season tonight (concert and dinner, for which we got the compliment that it was the nicest one we'd done), so we're off until January.  Our concert on Monday got double-booked, so we rescheduled for some time in the winter.

I have a lot to get through in the next week: moving out of a friend's basement (because that finally has to happen for real, and I have no idea what I'm going to do with all of that stuff, I don't need it); two events I have to provide food for; figure out what I'm doing for Christmas and arrange for that (and see if I can actually drive a car, I haven't tried since I hurt my hip, it's the braking that's the issue); possible audition; applications for a couple of projects I want to do (but I have to decide if I want to do them, and ask people if they will help); I think most of the stress is from the moving, it probably won't be as bad as I'm making it out to be, but I don't know where I'm gonna put it all until I can find places to take it all.

Went to watch/listen to six plays (in development) last night.  They were all interesting, but the last three were particularly strong, and part of that was the directors used staging.  One of those had a little too much dialogue for me (I zoned out), but the subject matter across the board was intriguing (a vague interview, a protest, an encounter on a ferry dock, a return home, a fairy tale, a final Thanksgiving), and the actors were great (particularly in the ferry, protest, and interview excerpts; those three had more active direction than the others.  And I've decided that I like it; also, from trying to create work this past year, I think seeing it moving onstage like that helps with the reworking of the words on the page.)

I've been watching Buster Keaton clips/movies this week.  Both to see how to write a script/screenplay without dialogue, and on the flipside, to watch how to perform without the use of words.  As an actor, I prefer words, and as a clown I prefer not having words, and I'm trying to get around both those things.  I think I'm using them both as a crutch in each situation, and yet most of the stuff I've been collaborating on lately is wordless: words seem superfluous in those cases.  You just really have to know where you want to go and be clear with it.  It's good practice.

(Oh, and someone gifted me with French-language cd's, ostensibly for going to Quebec, but perhaps I'll change the dialogue in the solo piece into French for when I'm in France.  I haven't decided.  But hopefully my pronunciation will improve.)

Back to coloring.

Another rainy Saturday and now I'm hibernating

The rain is pounding on the roof again.  Dodging obligations, watching movies on YouTube.  Went to a show at On the Boards last night, "Predator Songstress" by Degenerate Art Ensemble.  As someone else pointed out, it was a performance with a narrative, I guess I'm not the only one that notices.  A dystopian fairy tale, of a totalitarian world where all words are controlled (by a group of men), and individuality (voice) is removed (mostly from women) like dust, bottled and sealed up for some future use, probably by the State.  A woman wanders collecting stories and songs, she is arrested, tried, sentenced, and silenced.  She escapes and joins a rebellion, her brother is captured by the State and sentenced to die for aiding her.  She gets her voice back in screams.  There were only six performers on stage, two dancers, and four musicians.  All the other characters and imprisonment were projected on a screen at the back of the stage and on panels.  Stories were gathered from audience members and included in song and projection after the intermission.  It was good.  I'm not sure what I have to say about it, I'm running on fumes at the moment, except that here again is the idea of "who controls the narrative?"  Who shapes the conversation?  Who ultimately decides the future course by how they frame the message, how much fear (or not) is doled out on the masses?  Who won here in the end?  She got her voice back, but did the rebellion conquer the State or was it a momentary victory in a longer battle?  The narrative ended there, so it's in our imagination to decide.

Anyway, didn't get much sleep.  Got up early to meet a friend (and another of her friends) to work on a screenplay for a short film.  Was there until almost 1 pm, by which point I was running solely on caffeine and a donut, as I hadn't eaten since 6 pm last night, and that wasn't much.  I finally left to run an errand, a gift for a baby shower (for the parents.)  It was cold.  And pouring.  Cold in the coffee shop, colder outside.  On the bus, a woman sitting slightly above me, in a side-facing seat, crunched on something just above my head.  It was slightly louder than the raindrops hitting the roof; I kept wondering if crumbs would cover my head in the end.  Never did figure out what she was eating.

At the market, hardly anyone shopped, it was close to closing.  The odd deluge from the tents poured down one after another as I walked down between the vendors.  I bought some bread and asked about whether the vendor would have any stollen next week, he explained he would be on vacation for the next three weeks.  As I started to walk away (I didn't have any cash) he stopped me and handed me a loaf (for free.)  I was trying to stuff it down my jacket to keep it dry and another vendor waved me under their tent and out of the rain.  Got soaked (and really cold feet) walking home.  I could pretty much see through my jacket.  I guess I hadn't expected it to rain so much, it wasn't raining when I left my house.  The streets near my house have turned into ponds, waves wash over the sidewalks and back onto the pavement with every passing car.  Soon ducks will be swimming there.

I tried to warm up with a shower, but the hot water made one of my feet start to burn unbearably, so that was as non-starter.  Guess it was cold.  Walked down to do laundry, dressed enough for housemates, not enough for guests, and ran into my landlord, who told me a new person was moving in.  I swear there is some trickster element in my relations with him. (I also recently sent him an inappropriate text on accident late at night, when I read it after I was appalled.  Somehow the word "physical" got into a text about a smoke detector, I have no idea how), and now I'm running into him half-dressed, although, in my defense, it is my house, and he's supposed to give fair warning.  But still, chalk it up to another clown moment.

I hope the concept for the film works.  There were a couple moments in the middle we hadn't quite worked out.

Tuesday

Taking off, November 28/L Herlevi 2015

Haven't had much to say.  Trying to imagine how my life could be different, what I'd need to change, how that would feel, what it would look like.  Overwhelming, and yet...if I look into the future, do I want things to go along the same path they are on?  No.  And the motivation is stronger at the moment, than it has been, so making attempts.  Trying to choose with my eyes open rather than closed. (Active vs. passive.)  That on top of everything that has to be done.  And it doesn't have to be everything all at once, one thing would be enough.  Trying to keep choosing out of love and not fear.  The good thing is, we get to choose over, though the more we act out of fear, the deeper the consequences we have to deal with.  There are always repercussions, even from "not" making a choice.

Finally went out and bought new shoes.  Seems superficial, I suppose, but I've needed them for a while, my feet get wet every time I step outside, if the ground is even slightly damp (and I actually had to ask myself, "Are there actually shoes that are made to not be worn outside?  Why would that be?  These are boots, presumably people wear those outside, so, why do my socks get wet through the soles?"  Curious.)  Anyway, went to DSW, and that place is overwhelming.  Narrowed it down, and then kept trying on the six or so pair trying to imagine what I'd wear them with, and if they were practical in anyway.  Must've been in there for hours, left my house just before 11 am, and caught a bus home just before 6 pm.  There was already a heavy frost on the ground.  (And there are a lot of awful covers of Wham's "Last Christmas."  Just saying.  Must've heard five.)

The Finnish Choir has six or seven gigs over the course of a week-and-a-half.  And I have an audition coming up.  Over the weekend, I'd actually thought it was tonight and was panicking, as I wasn't ready for it.  I had the day wrong.  Still not ready, but I have time.  Need to look into the Shakespeare class, too, see what the audition requirement is.

I took a five-day weekend for the holiday.  We had beautiful (but very cold, for here, anyway) weather the whole time.  I'm happy for the return of the rain, though.  It's cleared out the air.  Am enjoying breathing without feeling like I'm hacking up a lung.  Feeling exhausted from that.