Sitting in Seattle

Seattle is home 364 days of the year, on that 365th day, home is where I grew up, and I'm in Seattle, not there.  Spent a brief moment being sad about that, but it means I can sing my favorite carol with the Finns tomorrow morning before going and picking up my sister and heading to my parents' house.  I already sang once tonight, very slim (because I have access to a car) chance I'll get dressed up again and go to a midnight mass, right now I'm listening to the Northwest Boys Choir on the radio (usually I listen in the car, and god, is it beautiful this year.)

Anyway, I'm home 'cos I came down with some virus last night.  Think it's just a cold, but felt like crap.  Have been taking this immune tincture I found recently, and along with this vapor rub-type thing, seems to have made a huge difference: both sore throat and achiness have abated.  But I didn't get everything done that I needed to, hardly got anything at all done today, and I don't feel like driving.  The week was somewhat stressful; coordinated a big, convoluted, last minute office move (nine offices trading places) that had to get done before I went on leave, and a few people have had the flu, so germs are also passing around.  It got done (and I caught a virus.)

(This apothocary is big on using what grows around you to heal you; for instance, this tincture has evergreen tree parts, and elderberry in it.  Not all of her products are entirely local, she has a tincture with chocolate in it, but most of it is.)

Anyway, that's why I'm in Seattle.

Merry Christmas!

And with the wave of a hand

Well, just was informed that I no longer have a role that I was cast in a few weeks ago.  Was offered a smaller role instead, but I haven't answered yet.  (Or I can accept the promised pay for the role and just walk away, an offer I do appreciate, as the commitment was for Jan-Mar, and I've had to show up for casting calls on short notice, when I had other commitments already promised.  Also, I appreciate the integrity of the offer of the pay.)  Taking the smaller role would show that I do want to work, and there's integrity in that, and experience, I guess.  One of the other actors originally cast, was also downgraded to a smaller role (actually, if I accept it, we'd be in the same scene, one that was added in a rewrite.)  Mostly, getting the part made me feel legitimate, like I was doing something right, and now, I sorta' feel like a fraud, because for all the training I've done, I have nothing to show for it, really.  Also, I understood the role, the character's circumstance, but not how to balance the tension between two contrasting sets of direction, so what I ended up doing, didn't end up fulfilling either.  I shoulda' just made a strong choice and gone for it, (what John calls being "director-proof") but I didn't, I think I ended up too much in my head and immobilized.  Any action being better than none.  (And when are you ever ready?  Maybe it was too much of a role for me, maybe the smaller role is a better start?)

And the thing is, I wasn't really expecting to get cast when I originally read for it, I wanted the experience, but maybe the original call needed to be wider, so that more people were seen before a final decision was made?  I get you want the right person for the role, and that maybe I wasn't it...I had that happen in a former job (actually, more than once) where my boss offered a position to me, but the other bosses gave it to someone else, and I only found out about it when it was formally announced that the other person had accepted that position.  At least I was told before it was announced, this time.  But why the rush?  Something to keep in mind when I'm in the position of making those decisions.  (I have been in that position before, for other things, but it was a larger group decision.)  Again, from their side, they want the right person, but from my side, it makes trust harder, as if nothing is ever solid, that at any moment, the rug can be pulled away.  And yet, I suppose that's the case, as much as I want some sense of permanence, something solid, something sure, perhaps there is no such thing.  Learn what you can, and move along.

And somehow between this, and singing commitments, the acting class, the hot water and heat going out at the house during the cold snap, and a last-minute project at work, I finally am able to come up for air, and it's a week until Christmas.  Time flies.

I should re-read the script, and since I can't afford to do the acting class when it starts up again in a couple of weeks, maybe I'll book monologue coaching time.  Lots of stuff I could audition for, but don't have a monologue in a good place yet.  I think it's worth it, the changes I've seen in my classmates have been remarkable, some of the best monologues I've seen done.

Life is full of disappointment.  Maybe it means I suck, but maybe I don't.

Cold spell

Tonight the attic feels about 40 degrees.  Outside, the stars are out, and it's below freezing.  Tomorrow it might snow.  I feel like that overheated car ride to sing in Gig Harbor was not so long ago, riding in the same car, coming home in the same clothes, from a different singing gig earlier this week, only 60 degrees and 4 months separate the two.  I'm writing this wearing a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, a sleeping bag and four three blankets, and I can still feel the chill.

Last night, I decided to kill time by walking to my acting class.  Passed a man with a telescope aimed at the sky.  A hand-written note on the side with something about the moon and Saturn, 8-10 pm.  I never did really figure out what that was all about, and at any rate it was only a little after 5 pm at the time, but I had to get close to read the note, and he said I could look through the telescope, so I did.  Up close, half the moon, enough to see a bunch of craters.  I once waited almost two hours, late in the evening, for 30 seconds to look at Mars.  I don't remember what I saw, only the waiting in line, and all the other people waiting, for so long, for such a short glimpse.  To see what else is out there, I guess.  And other nights, looking at comets, thinking they just looked like a larger version of a blurry star that I could see with my naked eyes.  The moon last night was more detailed.  It's burned in my mind.

Went to see "A Christmas Carol" at ACT, a friend got me a discounted ticket.  (Which I realized I had left at home as soon as I got on the bus.  I pulled the cord to stop, but the stop wasn't really close to home, and there was no way I could walk home, get the ticket, and get to the theatre on time, so I decided to stay on, and take my chances with seeing if they could look it up.)  I was late, but they did honor the ticket, and I did get in a little bit after it started, there were eight of us, at that point, sat most of us in the back, but still was able to see it.

So, Dickens wrote the story in the early 1840's to bring awareness of the plight of the downtrodden in London society (and it did bring awareness, it brought about change), and this adaptation was written 41 years ago (by Gregory Falls), but it could've been written last week.  It felt very relevant.  We repeat the same cycles over and over again...how can we forget the past, and what didn't work, so easily?

In class, working on "Thelma and Louise" again, different scene partner, different scene.  It's going somewhat better, possibly because I am understanding beat work better, and because I've spent more time going through the script.  I don't think of her as a vortex anymore.  They are equally responsible, at one point Louise says that she didn't have to shoot him, "We were walking away."  And because of that choice, she ended up losing the one thing she wanted (and was offered.)

My hand is killing me (the good one), maybe a cortisone shot would help; nothing else seems to work.  My foot is finally improving, finally found a pair of shoes that don't hurt, have barely been able to walk for the past couple of months.

Cheers.

Thankful

So, the housemate that witnessed my freak-out about the toilet told me last night that he put on gloves and pulled out the paper.  I was going to say, "It's the little things,"  but that would diminish the action.  It was a huge thing.  It wasn't his problem to deal with (nor mine, but I usually do), and he did it anyway.  In a very major way, that's hard to explain, and regardless of his reasons, because, at times I feel like I am shouldering a boulder up a really steep mountain by myself, his doing this made me feel like I wasn't alone.  And for that, I am most grateful.

Monday

Still processing.

Went to a Posie's show the other night.  They were great, mostly played from "Solid States" (a few from "Frosting on the Beater" and a few from the other albums) but then for the encore brought out original line-up from "Dear 23" era and played some of that, and then some with Dave Fox on bass.  It was the best I'd seen them in a while, the lining up of life, I suppose.  It was also super cathartic.  (And then I ruined that by reading the news.)  I probably went to almost every show they ever played in Seattle, including record stores, solo stuff, etc..., back in the 90's, early 2000's.  My favorite Seattle band, possibly my favorite band.  Sorry, I can't think straight lately.  (Anxiety, stress...)

Went to "It's Not Too Late" by Markeith Wiley at On The Boards over the weekend, where he performs as "Dushawn" Seattle's first black, late-night tv host.  A seed of this played at NWNW a couple of season's ago, and was one of my favorite performances, so I was looking forward to it.  And I liked it.  Glad I saw it.  It challenged me in ways I'm not ready to express, because I haven't wrestled with the challenges enough yet, and how I face up to them (whatever that means.)  Doing a lot of that in the past couple of weeks.  There is a lot of change.

Haven't done anything for class in the past couple of weeks, so I have to tomorrow.

Had an audition yesterday.  For some reason, I had it in my head that it was a table read (I think I saw an early call that mentioned those words, but I might be remembering that wrong.)  So, I did script work.  In the end, in was improv work on situations from the script, so, more like a call-back, and on camera.  It was good, I need to get more comfortable with that anyway.  And maybe it was slightly easier than in the past because I had done a lot of script work; thought about the characters, their arc, the obstacles, wants, beats, etc.  Also, I knew a lot of the people in the room.  The most intimidating part was that the person that the story is about was there, which on the one hand was great, because we could ask questions, and on the other, scary, because what if we are offensive in characterization?  Had a singing gig after, it went well.  I think people were actually listening.  It was in a food hall, so people don't always listen, and the sound doesn't always carry well.  During a couple of songs though, it got super quiet.

At home, someone tried to flush a bunch of dirt and shredded newspaper down the toilet.  I had ten minutes to catch a bus to get to work, and actually stood there staring it down.  Considered donning gloves and pulling out the paper, but in the end left and caught my bus.  Texted the landlord (sorta' feel like a jerk about that, but I always feel like a jerk when I assert myself.)  It seems clean now, but not sure how that happened.  That was Saturday, no one has spoken to me since then.

But who puts newspaper in the toilet?  Sigh.

Disbelief

God I'm depressed.  My head hurts and I feel like I need to vomit.  Hate won today.

The rest of us need to work to make that a temporary state.

Inner and outer weather

Another day, another inch of rain: the new normal.  A relatively free weekend (no where I have to be), and am only now getting around to reading scripts (a screenplay I'm participating in a reading for in a couple of weeks-a really good screenplay, written by a former classmate-so need to do character work on two roles, plus Chekhov, plus continuing monologue work for class/auditioning, etc.)  Found a copy of Eric Morris' "No Acting Please," and am reading through that in hopes of finding exercises to help work through my blocks, help make me more available, physically, emotionally, etc.  Also found some Uta Hagen class DVD's at Scarecrow that I rented, but have yet to watch.  And I need to work on this music-cataloguing project before tomorrow morning.  All in all, grateful for the extra hour before then.

Sloshed my way over to the Farmer's Market this morning because I thought this apothecary would be there, and I was interested in an immune tonic, but they were not, in fact, at that market.  Must've read it wrong.  Lugged about 10 lbs of heavy produce home instead: my workout for the day.  (Winter squash, apples, massive cauliflower, carrots, a quart of broth in a glass jar, etc.  Had this fantastic mashed cauliflower a few weeks back, and keep thinking about it.  Easily as good as mashed potatoes, only better, as I didn't have any bad reaction to it.  Probably takes close to a week to recover every time I eat them.)

Elsewhere, feel like I'm on the threshfold of major change, and it scares the crap out of me.  Trying not to run away from it...do the work, do the work, do the work.  There's a lot of work.

Carry on

Decided to continue on in the class, and then will have to take a break when this session is over.  I wonder how much more I would've gotten out of my previous acting classes had we ever talked about beat work?  I think it was always assumed people knew what it was from some past experience.  I did the whole sequence starting from knowing nothing, and we never covered it...still, better late, than never.  It makes a huge difference.

Continuing the work on the Chekhov scene, just for fun; my scene partner is no longer in the class, but also wants to continue to work on it.  Re-visiting "A Doll's House," and "Oleanna," and also a Christopher Durang piece for monologues.  Not sure where we are with scene work, there were only five of us last night, and we all worked monologues; I think the goal is to to have 6-8 working monologues at any given time.  Still trying to get in touch with my inner five-year old.

I want to continue working on scene work for what to do when you don't have dialogue, and let's face it, if you're a woman, in most plays, you have large chunks of time when the male characters are talking, and you get one word answers, to their monologues.

Have a goal of dedicating an hour a day toward acting, whether that be reading plays, preparing for auditions, looking for auditions, working on scenes, writing, going to class, etc..., I just need to make the commitment, there is nothing to lose.  Also need to get on the long-range goal setting with the belief that if you don't know where you want to go, you won't get there.  You will always be thrown off course by every crisis that presents itself.  That'll still happen, but if you know where you want to be, you can at least right yourself.

Stayed up late and watched "White God," a Hungarian film about a mixed-breed dog, the mistreatment it endures, and it's eventual revenge.  Very hard to watch, but forced myself to see the full two hours of it.  Wasn't sure of the genre, could be considered a horror film, the way the unwanted dogs form an intelligent army, hunting down those that had mistreated them.  Some call it an allegory (and those two things can live simultaneously.)  There is this fight within the main dog between the good it had been, and the evil it had been turned into (through abuse), and in the end, when he faces off with the girl who had loved him (and to whom he had been her only real friend), it remains unclear which side wins out.

And then because I stayed up late to watch that, and the darkness of the mornings now, I woke up at 7:23...will be glad for the clock change this weekend.

Tuesday and decisions

The show was fun, in the end (Maggie Lee Showcase at the Pocket Theatre, part of Fringe Month.)  Not much of a house, at least as many performers as paying audience members, but I enjoyed watching everyone else.  I think there were four short plays and seven monologues, broken up into three sets.  I was in the last group.  Was so nervous before I had to go up, thought I'd forget everything, rush through, skip lines, freeze, shake, etc., but in the end, though I think I said a couple of wrong words ("fall" instead of "drop," etc.), it went alright.  People laughed a lot, it was probably the lightest of the monologues.  I think I'll keep it for auditioning, but I'd really like to work on it with a director.  I had toyed with the idea of looking at different audience members, but then nixed that after feedback from my scene class, but as it turned out, couldn't see anyway (because of the lights), so hopefully didn't let my eyes wander too much, an ongoing issue, though it's getting better.

The Chekhov scene is difficult, it's the opening scene of "The Cherry Orchard."  Why I say that is because the section we have, doesn't seem to have a "turn" in it (i.e., the characters do not change from the beginning to the end); and also, they aren't listening to each other, for the most part, they are just talking.  Will need to bring a strong action.  There is, however, plenty of humor in it, and the Lopakhin speech is loaded, pretty much sets up all the class changes of the era: the end of the gentry, and a rising up of a middle class.  I think of an innate desire to more than survive that drives people to do what it takes to thrive (or at least not go backward); you see this a lot in Jane Austen's stories (among others) and we tend to view those women as villains, but in the situation they've found themselves, they are working with what they have to get ahead (marriage), i.e, Lucy Steele, Isabella Thorpe, etc.  I see that in Dunyasha, and later in the play she bemoans that she can't go back to being a servant (she is a servant, and of the servant class, but has been pretending to be gentry, and getting away with it), and she has an offer of marriage, but it's less than what she wants, not who she wants, though she is keeping it as an option.  (Society is the villain; perhaps if social structure and laws governing rights were different, these women would still be villains, but they get a pass, from me.  Dickens, writing later, has real individual villains: the abusive headmasters, the Murdstones, Uriah Heep, etc., in addition to society playing that role.)

Have to decide if I'm gonna continue on in this group.  I'd like to, I find it immensely helpful: to be working on scenes, to get feedback, to be able to practice monologues for people, etc...just have to figure out the money situation, where I can cut expenses elsewhere.  I probably can, but it's pretty tight.  It's priority, right?  If I keep making the same choices, day after day, nothing will change, at least not something that I have agency in, toward my own good, my own future.  Outside, things I have little control over are constantly changing, but I'd like to act, and not just constantly wipe myself out by jumping here and there to react to changing circumstances, and never proceed in the general direction of where I say I want to end up.  Even if it's a little bit of progress, to move forward, and to see the destination ahead.

And I'm still trying to decide how I can take a vacation, in my head, sometimes I've already left.  It'll have been 5 years, but I still feel like a privileged ass sometimes for mentioning it, and yet, I can also feel myself festering for lack of travel.  I'll make it happen.

Back to earth, three hours into the workday, I realized I was wearing my shirt, backward, and inside-out.  It's fixed now.

And my friend is leaving town, moving to Philly, too expensive to be here.  Saw him last Friday for the last time, though, it's true we'd fallen out of touch, and so I appreciate his effort to say goodbye.  One friend I could talk about almost anything with (our conversations went everywhere, has been that way since we met, 17 years ago he reminded me, how is that possible?) and always feel safe there, could always be myself.  I find that's not the standard acceptable behavior.  He's spoiled me to everyone else.

Early

In the calm before the storm.  It's so quiet, no wind at all.  Never got super windy here yesterday, seemed to be between 10-25 mph all day, even after the storm was said to have passed.  It's already raining.  The trees are still in brilliant leaf.  I was thinking if more leaves had fallen in the storm yesterday, perhaps there would be less impact in the storm today.  They are so beautiful this year!  And I want to go for a walk, but there was a notice to stay out of the parks, due to falling branches and trees.  The ground is saturated, it probably wouldn't take much to push over a tree that was ready to go, and a lot of them are weak from two years of drought.

A blue jay breaks the silence, I guess I should get out of the house.  And cook, before the chance of losing power.  And I have rehearsal space booked in a few hours to get these words out of my mouth.  Seems to have become a problem, more so lately.  Like a fear of being heard.  Fear of being wrong?  Of being called out?  They aren't even my own words and I can't seem to say them.  The inability to take up space.  Have a week to work on it.

Also, new scene for class from "The Cherry Orchard."  I do love Chekhov.

All the possibilities of the day stretch out before me, and the time slips by while sitting here looking at things on the internet, accomplishing fewer and fewer.

Ah, the storm changed track, and the winds here look to be like yesterday (though, higher gusts.)  North of here is forecast to get slammed.  I think last time we had a storm this strong my parents lost power for a week.  Don't remember losing power at all.

Sunday evening

Another night, another soaking, and this one in just one block.  Missed the debate, somehow I thought it was tomorrow night.  At any rate, was attending a performance about magic mushrooms at On the Boards.  I got on a volunteer list last year, and so get to see shows in exchange for taking tickets or watching the door.  So, I signed up.  Didn't think I was all that interested, in that I don't do drugs, but in general, I like seeing the performances at On the Boards because of the mix of artistic disciplines.

Have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to love this show.  Probably my favorite performance of the year, so far.  Everything worked:  story-telling, movement, costume, embodiment, sound, lighting...it was everything I want in a performance.  I was also surprised to find tears running down my face at one point, and I think the woman next to me might also have been crying.  I couldn't tell you why or even where (though, in the first half); he's just a good story teller (Alan Sutherland, Little Brown Mushrooms.)  (And Douglas Ridings as the chicken...nailed the movement and behavior, without being a cartoon, he was a chicken.  Not actually sure why there was a chicken, but I liked it.)

The performance begins with talk about space, about Sputnik.  And then about building a spaceship to travel to other worlds.  So a rocket ship is built on the side of the stage, and then the two dancers lure the chicken to it, and I suppose I thought they were just gonna send it off alone, but they loaded themselves into it as well.  It had to do with the idea of what would you take with you?  And a pet seemed like a good idea, and a pet chicken, even better, as they also lay eggs.  He later goes into the life-cycle of the mushrooms, and how they have evolved to grow around humans, their preferred growing medium being something produced by humans.

I was talking to someone about Paradisical Rites (St. Genet, 2013) before this show, Sutherland was buried on stage through the first two acts of that, and he referenced that at the beginning of the show tonight, saying that no one would be buried alive, or beaten, or made to bleed in this show (there was nothing violent about it at all.  There were children in the audience.)  The person I was talking to also mentioned that I should compare Ridings performance in that show, with his chicken in this one, and see what I think of his range.  I think all the performers are fully committed to what they are doing.

(I also mentioned that as much as I hated that show, due to things it brought up for me, things I carried into it, it stayed with me, and made me dig deeper, and that I think art should do that (though perhaps not always so violently so.)  He (the man I was talking to) said he thought about it for weeks after, as well.  He also mentioned that things such as drug abuse and assault shouldn't be glossed over, but should be violent and painful to watch, because that's closer to reality.  Perhaps we gloss it over (tv, movies, etc) because we are (rightfully, perhaps) frightened to face it head on, we'd rather it didn't exist, or at least not in the sphere where we live.  But it does, (I come across used needles on a daily basis now), and yet if it's invisible, we don't have to do anything to make it better.  If we have to look at it, maybe we will work toward real solutions, maybe we'll see someone we love, or someone like us.  There are a lot of traumatized people out in the world, the path we're on isn't really working, a series of bandaids, to push it down the line for someone else to solve.)

Saturday evening

Another night, waiting for a bus.  Students, back in town, populate the evening sidewalks, so no lonely waiting.  The sidewalk doubly-protected from the rain by both a walnut and a spruce tree.  From the safety underneath the branches, I watch the rain (really, more of a mist, though it looks dramatic as it swirls under the light, being moved in one direction, then another, on the whim of the wind) and it billows like snow, if it were only colder.  At any rate, the rainy season has returned: got drenched several times today.

The first gig tonight was an auction, the second, and organ dedication.  On the final movement of the last piece (Symphony No. 5 in F minor Op. 42 No.1, Charles-Marie Widor, the Toccata, to be specific), I had the urge to run to the aisle, and lie down to listen to the sound move through the space.  Somehow I imagine in this instance, it might be acceptable, but I don't do it.  Thoughts of paintings at the Art Museum that were meant to be viewed from below, and not at eye level.  How the docent suggested lying on the floor to view them, and how I did go back to do that when there were fewer people in the gallery, security unfazed by my action: I wanted to view how the artist intended.  And I think the organ, in it's fullness, was meant to be heard from the middle of the room (there are pipes in both the front and the rear of the space.  The ones in the back were out-of-commission for decades.)  We only sang one song in the actual concert itself, though more in the dedication part of the evening.

Still working on "Coal Miner's Daughter," as we opted for a rehearsal without camera last week, and I need to run my piece for the Fringe show in class soon.  I have a pretty good sense of context (it was written as a stand-alone monologue, so I had to make it up), but we were just told to pull it together on our own and show up before the performance.  The comment I get most of the time, is that I haven't made each thought distinct enough (in general), and I suppose it's because I was thinking that what I was saying was one thought, so I haven't been breaking them down enough as to what I want and how I'm going about getting it. Also, I think it's supposed to be two minutes, and I'm sure I'm running longer right now, so I'll need to cut out pauses, and make them more strategic: it's actually quite a bit of text.

I hope someone recorded the concert, would like to hear how it went.  I was on the end and could only hear the person behind me, and the person next to me.

Walking home

A Friday night, but no one around.  Empty streets, might as well be the middle of the night.  On one side of the street, the houses blocked by high walls, like a fortress, the other, an empty park.  I feel small, I walk briskly.  When I left the earlier party, a few furtive drops of rain touched my face.  Further along, two blocks, maybe three, I can see a shower under the street lights, which are few and far between.  I breathe a sigh when I get to a main intersection, with traffic and streetlights.  I cross to the other side, and then the bus passes by, going in my direction.  I suppose I could've tried to run for it, but my feet hurt, so I walk on.  The rain begins to soak through my jacket.

I remember as a preteen, or early teen, three of us sneaking out of a slumber party for the thrill of it, to see if we could get away with it.  Some story about needing a pillow, when everyone else had fallen asleep, we slipped outside, the air chilly, the streets dark, spooky and exciting at the same time.  A car of older teens pulling up beside us, and I was afraid, but one friend kept her cool.  They left us alone.  First we snuck into one of our houses, then mine, where we ate chocolate cake: I don't know how we didn't wake anyone up.  Then back to the party, and in through a sliding glass door.  In the morning, no one believed us.  We never did bring back any pillows.

Rain falls harder, the sidewalks glistens, puddles form.  People are sitting in the bus shelters, but I think the wait will be long, and it's late.  They are probably just trying to get out of the rain.  I walk on the other side of the street.  More walls, there is a loneliness to the night, a separation of those behind those walls, inside, and me, out here, gradually getting more soaked, and picking up the pace because it's late.

At home, I hang my jacket to dry, drenched through.  35 minutes door-to-door.  In the end, I guess I could've called a cab.

Thursday

Venting out my frustration with shoes hurting my feet helped me to remember that in previous pairs of hiking boots, I laced them different.  So, trying that.  Feels like someone is sticking a knife in my foot, all shoes hurt now.  Hurts to be barefoot, too.  Irritated a nerve, I guess.  (Have had this problem before, though, different part of foot.)  I have time to break them in, but I want this pair to work, so that I can move on to other things.

Fingers crossed that I got into a Fringe show next month.  Tentative.  Working on a new scene, playing a 13 year-old that just found out she's pregnant.  (Loretta Lynn, "Coal Miner's Daughter.")  Had a bit of an epiphany as to her mindset when I woke up this morning.  Need to write it down before I forget.  When I read the first half of the screenplay, I'm just filled with sadness, thinking about her family, and a headstrong teenager who believes, "I know what is good for me, I know what I want, how no one else has ever felt this way before, and how I know what I'm doing.  You're old you don't understand."  Though, I wonder why her parents didn't protest more.  Her family loved her, fiercely, but didn't put up much of a barrier to her marrying Doo.  And she was wrong about what she thought she knew.  And he complains that she's not good at anything, but...yeah, man, she was basically still a child when he decided to marry her, what do you expect?

Anyway, still have a lot of work to do.   He always asks, "What is this scene about?"  And again, it's not about the obvious thing on the surface, it's not about the literal words.  What does each character want?  And how are they using the language to get it?  And why is this scene in the script, how does it serve the story?  Need to go over this more with my scene partner.  We went through it pretty fast in class.  I know where it turns, but it's not internal, yet.

Got a bunch of scripts I need to read (for monologues), plus the Fringe thing.  And yet, last night sat around and watched youtube videos about the medieval world.  Have started reading, Uta Hagen's, "A Challenge for the Actor,"  it's not the one suggested, "Respect for Acting," (which I also have), but I came across it in a used bookstore last week.  And I need to find something to wear for head shots.  And just remembered I have two singing gigs next Saturday.  Really need to keep a better calendar.

You gotta show up everyday and do the work you say you want to do.  And it's easy to make excuses not to do it.  Or think, "I'll do it later."  Later comes along, and there's always something easier to do in the moment.  What are the barriers, what are the internal conflicts that keep me from showing up?

And then, "on paper" some things don't make sense, and it should be, "move along, nothing to see here," and yet...I've stopped anyway.

Tunnel vision

Feel like I'm treading water, and have been for a while.  Never seem to even know what day it is anymore.  And I feel out of touch with people, even though, I've had more "real" conversations with people in the past week than I have in a long while (ran into someone I'd had a fallen out of touch with, outside a grocery store, and we sat and talked for almost two hours, for one, but not the only).  I think I'm trying to block out all the negativity that's in the media, and flooding my inbox.

And then there's the film class, which is the highlight of my week, and one of the best decisions I've made in a while.  The genuine support for us to be successful is somewhat staggering, can't remember the last time I've had that, if ever.  (Maybe in elementary school or junior high?)  And it's practical, i.e., I asked for monologue ideas, and he sent me 20-30.  And the feedback is helpful, and said in a way I can hear it and accept it and do something about it.  Again, it's practical, so, useful.

We filmed our scenes last night.  Went better than it felt, but I didn't do enough beat work, and I should've gone with my first instincts...but, something to work on going forward.  (I enjoyed working with my scene partner.)  We are getting new scenes/partners for next week.  And I need to start reading the scripts the monologues are from, and book a head-shot session, or at least make contact.  The photographer I had been hoping to work with just stopped doing them, so I'll have to choose someone else.

The Meisner group has ended for the time being, mostly it was just the two of us showing up.  Fine with me, I was starting to have an aversion to it, which initially I put down to my usual anxiety, but since I don't feel that for the film class, maybe it was real.

Saw the show the actor gave me the discount code to, "A Winter's Tale" at Seattle Shakespeare.  All-around pretty stellar, great cast, great choreography (especially the fighting), and everyone had a solid grasp on the language.  Would recommend.  (We went out for a drink before I had to go to the Meisner group.  He seems cool, I made an ass of myself, though, nervous and talking too much.)

Woke up early to go to a "grand opening" of a Bartell's in the ID on Saturday.  Didn't get there in time (still, somehow made it out of the house before I ever seem to on a weekday.)  They were giving away gift cards to the first 200 people.  Apparently, those went really fast, one was for $500.  Heard they would be doing some other give away at 10 am, and wandered around and ate ice cream, and then had coffee, since they sell both (along with growlers of beer) at that location.  Didn't buy beer.  Chatted with other people hanging around.  Got my box of things, and left.  The wind had kicked up, blowing through a construction site, the air full of swirling bits of insulation that had ripped free.

Found myself at the waterfall park in Pioneer Square.  Have only ever been there three times.  The first was in the late 80's, I'd moved to Bellingham, but had driven back to contest a parking ticket.  I remember my father saying that it was hardly worth the gas money, and I said something about "the principle of the thing."  They almost always dropped or halved the amount if you bothered to show up.  Anyway, was just gonna walk through, but found myself mesmerized by the sound of the water crashing down.  Stood there for 20 minutes, suddenly felt emotional, and tried to stay with it, but couldn't place where it was coming from.

Walked to Occidental park, people were setting up for a block party.  Someone had left a big sign of apology of flaunting privilege, and kicking the downtrodden out, and making life harder.  While I was reading that, someone shouted to me, offering me breakfast because someone was serving breakfast to the people in Pioneer Square.  It was one of the men I had been talking to in Bartell's.  I declined, but I thought the offer was sweet.

Haven't figured it out yet

I have no idea why this scene is in the screenplay, which might be why we got it:  a challenge.  There's a power shift happening, where, basically, Thelma didn't have any, or didn't exercise any, and Louise had been making decisions, calling the shots, but then once Thelma had JD, and then committed the armed-robbery (and found she was good at it), things started to shift.  She made decisions, and acted on them.  Right before this scene, the reason Louise won't go through Texas is revealed, both as a realization to Thelma, and the FBI/cop get the file.  (It can also be thought that if she had been willing to go through Texas, they might have escaped.  So, this carried more weight for her than escaping.)  After this scene, Louise is on the phone with the detective, and Thelma reaches over and ends the call, which to me, is when the power completely shifts over.  She wouldn't have had the idea or nerve to do that before.

The scene we're working on is about beef jerky and Wild Turkey, and a reiteration of why they didn't got to the police in the first place...except, it's not about that.  Them just words.  Something else is going on, but I haven't figured that out.  Because, with the exception of Thelma saying, "Thank you," to Louise, on the surface, it's the only scene which doesn't drive the plot forward.  Also, Thelma comes across as subservient, and given what has just happened, that doesn't make sense.  And we're first up tonight.

All this, digging into human nature, trying to feel what someone else feels, or thinks, is fun.

The What If

And then there is the existential angst that came up from class (and life, in general) this week, of "Do I want my life to change?"  Because if I act on the things I've been asked to, it will.  What then?  What do I want?  I need to take those first steps anyway, and I do have a choice.  Doing nothing is a choice, but that's not really working.  Yeah?  Yeah.

Stories

My sleep schedule is messed up, to put it mildly.  At any rate, I fell asleep early, then woke up some time during the 1 o'clock hour and decided I needed to re-read the screenplay, and also, try to format it to fit on fewer pages, so that I could print it and make notes on it.  That took until after 4 am, and I fell back asleep and then woke up from a dream ("Thelma and Louise" was somehow entwined in the dream) and sat straight up and said, "Oh, God, it's almost 8."  I was supposed to be somewhere at 8:30.  I did make it.  More of the interview project I'm working on, and I had to be on camera today, so I felt like I wanted to wash my hair.  It went well.  At least one person I wanted to keep interviewing, on tangential subjects, but didn't have the time.

This project is more targeted than the one I still want: I want to hear about people's lives, oral histories while they are still alive.  All of which stems from going to a lot of memorial services and realizing how little we really know the people in our lives.  How we only know them at the stage of life where we interact, but they have this whole other history that made them who they are.  Part of it is that I feel we are all so quick to judge one another, especially people we've never met, as if we have some authority, and we know so little about anyone.  But knowing someone takes effort.  Putting a label on someone, or a whole group of someones, is easier, because then we have a box where we "understand" and can move onto the next thing.  I get it, we're busy, have other things to do.  But we're also complicated, we want someone to be all bad or all good, but none of us are that.  Anyway, I''m not asking those questions (much) right now, I'm supposed to be following a script (for editing purposes), but some people want to go off script, and some people I want to go off-script with.  And it all might be cut, but at least I got to have the conversation with them once.  (I'm conducting the interviews, for most of it.)

As far as the screenplay goes, I am liking the story more.  And since I had the option to choose, I chose Thelma because she's the one I'd be least likely to be cast as, so it's more of a challenge.  I think we all have the seeds of the characters within us, it's a matter of accessing it.  And what I have of her in me, is repressed, so...it'll be a challenge.  I like the characters, it's just the whole "women have to be saints, or sinners" thing, that they had to die to win.  I do get why that happens in the story.  For Thelma, once she was "free" going back to her old life wasn't an option.  It was more of the larger options for women that bothered me.

I've also heard that the original ending didn't have them die, but at some point in the process it was decided that that was the ending that was called for.  And escape doesn't make sense, not in the context of the rest of the story.

Anyway, got a lot of work to do.  And I need to read another play, and deal with groceries/cooking.  And god, is it gorgeous out today.  (I can take ol' Bill to the park, but I'm waiting for laundry.)

Of all the scripts in the world

Ha! I was assigned "Thelma and Louise."  That's an ironic form of awesome.

Back to Life

Back to doing more acting (formalized) training after a mostly stagnant (black hole of a) summer.  Makes me excited about life again.  The idea came up from two others tonight, and for me last week in the Meisner group:  "Why is some past failure keeping us stuck?"  That super-introverted, terrified, 12-year old who was unprepared to give a speech, and just stood there and stared back at her classmates doesn't have to define me...and yet, always comes back to this.  And I tell myself that I didn't actually know how to write a speech, it's not like we were given any instructions on how to step-by-step create one...I don't know, maybe I missed that year, or class or whatever, but I didn't know how to start.  At least I know it's a trigger.  Telling myself I can learn, using logic on it, doesn't exercise the ghost.

And the thing is, you can learn.  You can break it down to the bones and build it back up.  That's what Meisner was for (as far as acting goes.)  (And on that note, I need to find my notes on working with text, since we have to prep a scene/character before next week.)  And getting over all this, this being in front of people, this saying something, was why I started taking acting classes in college, though deep down, perhaps I always wanted to be an actor, a performer, I just didn't think I had the talent.  I probably didn't.  (And talent can also be a burden, what if you are naturally good at something, so you don't try something outside that realm that you might like, or if you don't want to pursue the talent, but feel a pressure to, because, "Oh, but you're so gifted!")  But again, it's more about learning how to work, and then doing the work, and showing up and failing, and learning, and showing up and failing, and learning, and growing, and getting better, than it is about innate talent.

And yet our culture has a bias against failure; the whole idea that failure makes you "a loser."  And we live in fear of being seen as a loser.  How many times have we held back because of that fear?  The fear of incompetence, of being found out, of being judged.  Most of us won't know we can be good at something we've never done before, or that if we do the work, that we can get good at it.  At some point, you just give it a shot.  And lately, I find myself cowering, guarded, holding back.  I wasn't always like this.  I was once more gutsy, cared less about being judged and found lacking.  Someone has said they've finally learned to cut the negative voices out of their life, to only be with those that challenge you to be better, or that lift you up.  Although that's harder to do when you've internalized the voice, let it hold a seat of power without questioning its right be be there.

Just a matter of doing the work, to eventually prove that voice, that memory wrong.  Wrong about defining me.  Wrong about defeating me before I even start.  Wrong to make up excuses and live in fear.

Oh, and we're all supposed to go out and get ourselves an agent by the end of the eight weeks.  Which means, I have to stop making excuses and cough up the money for head-shots.  Stop making excuses.

Monday

Trains, planes, and automobiles...or something like that, throw in an Uber, a taxi, and one of those rental bikes, and I'd be covered.  Had an appointment for my ankle "popping" this morning, and just missed the bus that went direct, so ran across the street, caught a bus to the light rail, light rail to Cap Hill, and trolley to the stop nearest the doctor's office.  Only about a minute late.  Have an ankle brace I need to wear for a month, and stabilizing/balancing exercises.  Have the option of getting new orthodics, but he said the old ones are holding up pretty well, so might not.  It probably wouldn't get worse, but I'm planning a trek in the spring, and I want to be as well as possible.  I don't feel like the brace actually supports my ankle all that much.  I have seven months to get it together.  Yeah, it's pretty much Spain, again, at this point.  Already there in my head.  I don't know why I get dates, but I do, had no intention of ever going again, until a couple weeks ago.  Will probably do the Pyrenees crossing, if the weather is good, and not sure after that.  Probably only taking 3 weeks (I'll have 8 weeks of vacation by that point, because I never take it, but it's not reasonable to take that much time off of work.)

Worked at 14/48 all day Saturday (food stuff), another friend drove me to a bus stop after the first run, it was at a park, no where near any buses.  And it was late.  This actor whose work I like introduced himself to me, and he's in a show and asked for me email so he could send me a discount code.  (I said something about really liking his work, and wanting to see him in something else.  I was basically gushing, like an idiot, but I'd been talking to someone else about it, and then he showed up, so why not?)  Not a big deal if he doesn't, I wrote on a scrap of paper, and if he even finds it later, he'll probably wonder why he has it, and what it was.

My sister is in town, staying with a friend, until she can move into her new place later this week.  Saw her yesterday, we wandered around in the ravine.  I wanted to walk to the far end, as I hadn't been there in a while.  I guess it was a long while (although 3 years max), there is now a forest along the stream...didn't recognize it at all, it's like a different park.

The singing gig went well.  The acoustics in the museum were wonderful...the kinda' place where you can hear your own voice come back at you, and it sounds good.  We got stuck in traffic driving down, so my ride decided to avoid the freeway coming back and we caught the Southworth ferry.  I'd never been either to Gig Harbor or Southworth before, so it was sorta' like a vacation.  At least I got out of town.  And the ferry was cool, since it has two stops, they load the cars facing different directions, some of which drove forward and then turned around, and some of which backed onto the ferry.  They must do that on other multi-stop ferries, but I'd never noticed it before.  Gig Harbor is beautiful, and it was a lot cooler out there, than in the city.  That was the hottest day of the summer.  I think both the choirs start up again for real after Labor Day.

Enjoying the free evenings, those are going away soon.

Just heard Gene Wilder died, man, I loved him...there was something lovely, kind, and (as someone else pointed out) sadistic, about the old school comedic actors that you really don't see anymore.  There was a sting and a truth, but it was never vicious.  RIP.

Sunday night

There's a cool breeze blowing through the window.  When I walked to the store at 9:30, it was already dark.  Still warm, but much cooler than yesterday, overcast, and when I'd gotten off the bus earlier, trying to rain a little.  I was wishing that would happen, but it stopped.

Walking to the bus stop after Meisner, I decided to walk a block further than usual, before turning.  There was commotion in front of me, at the door of a restaurant, some form of altercation, with two people storming off.  When I passed the entrance, a woman was saying something and I turned to look, and the people who had left, had shoved a tall, and heavy, planter in front of the door, blocking anyone else from exiting.  I walked over to try to move it, but it's heavy.  A man who works there, somehow squeezed out and tried to chase them, yelling at them for a confrontation, the woman kept asking him to stop.  By this point, two other people had turned around and joined in to help move the planter.  I don't know what happened, from the bits of conversation, and the fact that the man from the restaurant was trying to chase them, I'm guessing they also didn't pay.  At any rate, the other two managed to move the planter, and I continued on toward my bus.

Only two of us showed up.  We did a lot of warm-ups, which I don't do enough of.  Sometimes they seem frivolous in my head (they aren't), and I don't always know what to do on my own.  I asked him if he had any good vocal warm-ups, so we did those (and he gave me a name of someone.)  And then we did the "I feel," exercise, one round of chair work, and another acting exercise that I've done a lot, but for some reason, at the end of my turn, I was wondering why we do it in acting, and by the end of his turn I had my answer.  (Blind sensory experience.)

Some things I want to remember:  why do I need permission?  I feel like I'm waiting for it.  It's okay to take up space (and that means the right to be heard, the right to be on stage, the right to speak my mind, the right to have ideas, etc., not necessarily just physical space.)  It's all about connection and imagination, and I don't need approval first (and why is this an issue?)  Let myself be seen (and look at the other person.  An observation.)  Acting is being truthful, and it's important to let the guard down, the guard you mostly have to have up in everyday life.

And all of this is why regular practice is good.

Enjoying what breeze I can get

Something Like Summer, August 11/L Herlevi 2016

The hot breeze is better than no breeze, though I did have to re-drop one of my window blinds, as the breeze was not strong enough to overcome the heat from the late afternoon sunlight still streaming in.  On the whole though, slightly more pleasant than yesterday.  This being the hottest day of the year thus far.

 Took a detour on the way home, via grocery store, iced coffee stop, the lake.  The lake is packed, people strewn across the sand, paddleboards/boats plying the water; can't remember last time I witnessed that (back in the 80's?  I rarely go to the beach.)  And then I remember that we're coming into the last hurrah of summer, since schools are already gearing up to start, two more weeks.  When I was in high school, we'd already have started sports practices by now, at least unofficially (ran x-country.)  And at the lake, the earlier treatment has worked to keep the toxic algae at bay, so the water is cleaner; over the past few summers, it would've been pretty smelly and soup-like by now.

Tomorrow, the choir has a singing engagement mid-day, out on the Peninsula.  I mentioned it would be in the 90's, but wasn't able to persuade anyone to not wear the traditional costumes, which are heavy and wool.  There will be air-conditioning in the building, but still, 90 degrees, in a heavy wool dress won't be a lot of fun.  Will have to stay hydrated, I guess.  I've taken to carrying water on stage already, my throat gets really dry from all the high singing.  And our set is 30-35 minutes.

Last week, went to a free, outside, dance performance.  I sorta' saw two of the groups, but the crowds were much greater than the organizers were expecting (someone mentioned to me that they usually get 800 or so people, and it was in the 1,000's) so it was hard to see the groups in the more enclosed spaces.  A lovely evening to be out, so watched the sailboats chase each other across the water, marauding hoards about to make landfall (in my imagination), and walked down to the beach to sit for a while, watch the sunset.  On the way to the bus stop, saw a tv in a bar showing the Olympics (gymanstics), so stopped in and ate tacos.  As it got darker, went to catch my bus.  Had a bit of a wait, so sat on a bench and looked at the pictures in my camera.  A succession of people sat beside me, the last of which was breathing heavily.  When I glanced over, he had a lighter in his hand and started smoking something (no idea what it was.)  He saw me looking at him, and offered it to me, I declined, but there was something rather considerate in the offer.  His breathing calmed down, and whatever it was, it didn't make him agitated in any way, so I stayed.

Saturday, made it out to the "Out of Sight" art exhibit at the King Street Station.  Only open on weekends, through the end of the month.  It's up on the top floor, second year.  I love the space.  I love that there are huge works of art that can be site specific.  And I'm saddened to hear that the current plans for the space are for offices.  Seems like a shame to me (and I guess I should go to the next public hearing).  Artists have lost a lot of space in the city, whether that be from buildings being torn down or converted to office/condo/overpriced apartments, etc., that I hate to see this space have the same fate.  There is a lot of vacant office space, not a lot of vacant space for artists to work (especially photographers, where the high ceilings and natural light are more of a factor.)

Stopped by the Seattle Yukon Museum.  Haven't been there in ages.  They run a 25 minute film on Seattle and the Gold Rush.  I was slightly amused to notice there were more people in that theatre than in some movies I've gone to (30 or so?)

Reminded me of a long (dormant, as of late) fascination I've had with the Yukon Territory.  I should probably go soon.  I decided earlier in the week that I'll take a vacation in April of next year.  Will give me a few months to save.  Spain or Quebec, depends on airfare, and I can stay longer in Spain for the same amount of money as Quebec.  So, no Yukon, yet (and I want to go there in the winter.)  That'll be about five years since I've taken a vacation.  Right now, I have tuition coming due, so have to figure that one out.

Too hot now, to remain in the attic.  And my skin is burning: seemed to have become an insect magnet.

Show

Not sure what I witnessed, exactly.  Came in a little late, after missing the bus.  Ran to the theatre, hoping they'd still let me in (they did.)  Had to wait in the stairwell, and was mid-way through reading the "rules", at a point where I was supposed to say something out loud that began, "I will be brave..." when the door opened and I was let in.  The program was a map of the space, as well as an invitation ("You are Chosen"), to a party, that the actors are also chosen for.  And so throughout, there was an anxiety regarding what this party was for, what it meant to be chosen, and what the right outfit for the occasion might be (white, wedding-type dresses.) There were signs in each room (where you could wander in and out of at will) of what was expected, but I only remember actually seeing two of them.  I put make-up on someone, and screamed with a few people (which was fun), and drank tea, had red chalk put on my arm, and helped with a dress...and it was interesting, but I don't have the program, and I'll have to re-read what I've seen written about it to grasp it further.  This would be "Girl" at Annex, an immersive theatre piece.  (One review spoke of a Hero's Journey, and another of what we expect of women.)  In the end, we were led into the theatre (later I saw there were paper cut-outs of clothing, like on a wash-line, hanging up behind us), where the "girls" sang, wearing white dresses, and wrapped their waists in cords, in some sorta' ritual, and then a large, white envelop dropped from the ceiling, for their efforts.  Inside was a letter that read, "You Choose."  And one by one, they exited the stage, and then we all exited the building.

Nothing static

Hung out with friends on Sunday night, one I haven't seen in probably 30 years(!), the other, I saw another side I didn't know existed, surprising, not necessarily in a bad way, like a carefulness fell away, less guarded.  Something shifted; a good thing, I think.

We've had our annual visitation of gull babies drop in at work.  One of them died, not sure what happened to the second one, but it's gone today; always hope they learned to fly and left on their own volition.  No way to tell, really.  Someone lost a parrot, signs up all over around the lake.  The parrot's name is "Herman" and the sign says it likes peanuts and almonds.  I thought I might have heard it, but when I looked out the window, just a couple of crows sitting on a branch looking back at me.  Put some nuts out in the yard just the same, hope it found it's way home.  I like that there's a parrot named "Herman" out in the world.

While waiting to hear back from the friend on Sunday, suddenly decided to rearrange, clean, sort through the boxes from my friend's basement (that I haven't dealt with since December.)  I have more space, but shoved things in front of my closet and my dresser.  Still need to deal with that, but decided to go see a live show tonight (theatre), so it'll have to wait (or maybe I'll get to it after the show; at some point, I'll need to wear different clothes.) Someone moved in, and I think someone is moving out.

I want something solid, and constant, to counteract a vague anxiety that haunts the back of my mind.  Everything is shifting, always.  I should, too.

Rememberance

It's late, and I'm up cooking fava beans.  Bought them at the farmer's market earlier today and was doing a cold soak (they were dried ones.)  Went out to the "From Hiroshima to Hope" (to remember the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and all who have died from acts of violence) event out at Greenlake earlier tonight, with it's culmination of setting wood/paper lanters afloat at dusk.  When I began to walk home again, there were still people going out on the dock to put their lanterns on the water, probably an hour into it?  There were a lot of lanterns, this year they floated directly across the lake from the docks, in a previous year, the currents took them toward the swimming docks.

Crossing the Lake, August 6/L Herlevi 2016

All the Lights, August 6/L Herlevi 2016

Lanterns, Aug 6/L Herlevi 2016

That we are all mud and ecstasy, that within us lies the possibilities of be the lowest or the highest.  That we could see the essence in the other, and not just the action.  That we could punish the action while never losing sight of the soul of the other.  That we could learn from each other.  That there is no need for "other" to pit ourselves against. That there is love, and we all come from the same place.  That there could one day be peace.

Lighting the lost spirits home again.  

Finally, practice

Our first Meisner-practicing group met tonight.  It was good.  We did chair-work (there were only three of us, so, 2x each), and another vulnerability exercise.  We did each chair session for 15 minutes, and the other for five; I mention the timing because in some ways while in it, it feels like forever, and then when the time is up I think, "Wow, is it over already?"  The second exercise was a series of (truthful) "I feel...I feel..." stating what was going on with you in the moment, and while that was being explained, I couldn't imagine doing that for five minutes, and yet, lived through it.

In the second chair I did break down deeper and tried to stay there, but side coaching took me out of it (not always the case), and in the "I feel" exercise, I pulled back, I mean, partly, I didn't want to start crying and not be able to stop (as in the singing class, where I pretty much cried the rest of the night, and the next day); and while I realize there is a lack of trust in that decision to pull back, to not go there, the other side of me is remembering, that "this is not actually a therapy session," and trying to walk the line between those things, 'cos obviously, the point is to have access to all of you, to be vulnerable, to be fully available.  And it's a safe space for it.  I'll have to spend time writing about it on paper.  I guess there are some things I need to think about.

I'm glad this happened.  We are meeting again in two weeks, and will see how it goes; it seems it would be too much to ask to meet more often.  (It would also be really good practice to meet more often.)  One part of my head says, "Oh, how do you find the committment to this in busy life?"  But then another side says, "Well, you are all actors, and this is what you want to be doing, so, yeah, it makes sense to find the time to practice."  Again, not an art form that can really be practiced in solitude all the time, as interactions matter.

I've been wanting to find people to work with for two years, so again, this is good.

In other news, waiting to hear back from a doctor I saw earlier today regarding pressure in my chest, against my rib cage.  They wanted to rule out my heart (or a blood clot).  I wanted to rule out my gall bladder (I didn't win, and they also didn't do any blood work, which I need.)  It makes me not want to eat, because eating hurts.  Anyway, doesn't seem that anyone has called, so I'm hoping no news is good news.  Though I would like to know what's wrong...I'm too young for all of this, it's ridiculous how bad I've been feeling this year.

And then I tried to use an atm card earlier only to be told it had expired, and the balance was zero.  I never received a replacement, can't imagine anyone else could be using it.  Not super worried, as there isn't that much money in the account, though I was gonna use it to pay a bill that's due.  Can't do anything about it until tomorrow.  A lot less worried about it than I normally would be.  I guess that's progress.

Stories to remember

There is a bird with a very high-pitched wheeze outside my window, sharp, it cuts through all other sound.  The clouds are burning off, and soon it will be hot again, in the house.  Thankful for the lull over the past couple of mornings.  Have a bug to clean today, although, stopping to write is putting a bit of a drag on the energy.  Have cleaned a table, and put out new flowers.  At least that looks nice.

Looking at the photos people are posting from the reunion makes me a little regretful. I went to another friend's gig on Friday night, she was in our class as well.  The band before did an REM cover from about 30 years ago, and it was a strange, "where am I?" moment, could've been at a gig back in my 20's again, everyone knew the song.

Read a couple screenplays with former classmates yesterday.  Thankful that someone organized it, also a Meisner group for continuing practice.  Back to the idea that to do art, you need to practice it, but acting is hard to practice alone, since so much of it involves your reaction, to a situation, to another person.  Also, these people are really good at improv (we did improv for some situations after reading the screenplays a couple of times, to see what else came up.)  Really important for everyone, to see what the subtext is, what's going on, what each person thinks the scene is about.

Walking home from an ice cream shop the other day, I cut across the grass, so I could walk barefoot, and decided to check out the fig tree.  Someone was up on the tree, and threw me a couple of figs, the second one burst in my hand, so I ate it when I got home.  They were massive, and juicy, must've been the rain last week.  I appreciate fresh figs from the grocery store, but like any other fruit, so much better from the tree, almost not even comparable.

Earlier today, I went to shake someone's hand, and they bent as if to kiss it, but then stopped.  Someone I'd never met.

All this reading of other people's stories reminds me that I should write my own, things I want to remember, before I forget them.  (And then also, to give myself the liberty to make them into fiction, but not yet.)  And as I began cleaning, I came across undeveloped rolls of film, and I'm itching to get them developed.  They are old, I haven't shot film in a while.  Hopefully, some are from Finland, and from Portugal/Galicia (5 years old, now, I have a memory of taking pictures of some goats in Finistere, late in the day, before I got lost looking for Ara Solis, which doesn't exist.)  Can't get anywhere today to develop them, so will have to wait.  There's a lot of film, at least they are all in one place, now.

I should just dedicate 15 minutes to one area, then I won't get overwhelmed and might actually accomplish something.

Oh, poop, primary ballots are due on Tuesday, need to figure that out, lot of people running.

Holding

Not much going on.  Enjoying the moments of summer, hints of a feeling, a carefree-ness of being a child in the summer.  The feel of running through a sprinkler, bare feet through soft grass and clover, hot pavement...of moments where I don't have to do anything.  Happy laughter.  Birdsong  Insect buzz.  Breezes rustling the leaves, and how different each tree sounds.  Clouds pushing across the sky.  All the flowers in bloom, and the green abundance of summer.  The lingering, deepening colors of dusk as the stars begin to emerge, and the erratic flight of bats, replaces the erratic flight of swallows.  And then waking up to a soft, steady rain on Friday, with it's teenage memories of wishing for rain, because if it rained, we got a day off from the harvesting work.  Savoring all of that.

Was out sick a couple of days last week, possibly food poisoning, probably stress-related (too much drama in one very small corner of my life that is really eating at me, plus one of the people came into my workplace to talk about it, which, to me, was completely inappropriate, felt like they violated a safe place for me), feeling like my insides were being ripped out.  Almost went to the doctor, but 1) couldn't walk even a few feet without doubling over during the worst of it; and 2) didn't have a fever, so figured I'd wait it out.  Mostly just sat around and read cookbooks; I'd found some chairs with a "free" sign on my way home earlier in the week, and had dragged them home to use in the backyard.  The house blocks the afternoon sun, so the backyard stays fairly cool, even when the house gets unbearably hot.

My high school graduating class has a reunion this weekend.  I'm not going.  I don't mind the first social night, but find the dinner awkward, being single.  I have a couple other commitments over the weekend in town, and I'm saving up to finish paying tuition for a class I've signed up for that starts in early September.  The reunion itself was inexpensive, and a couple people offered to give me a ride up there (which I appreciate; car rentals in the summer are expensive), but I'd still need to have found a place to sleep, since I can't stay at my parent's house.  That said, I do need to go up and visit my family soon.  I have gone to three of them, plus a homecoming gathering one year.  (The post-dinner bonfire does sound like fun.)

Been trying to write, but have been too distracted.  Went to this St. James' event on Saturday, his feast day is July 25.  It was a pilgrim thing, we walked from St. Mark's to St. James, and then came back for a potluck.  (The food was fantastic.)  I really need to go on vacation.  Saw a flight for a little over $600 to Madrid, and a similar one to London.  Have that class coming up, though, so can't really take a lot of time off.  Maybe I'll just go camping.

Food stuff

Been obsessing about this banana "cake" recipe, so finally made it this morning for a potluck earlier today.  Too sweet, and the baking time said "1 hour at 350 F," at 30 minutes it looked like it was burning, so took it out.  It's a little dry, is actually a recipe for cookie "bars" but is halfway between a cake and a bar.  There was another recipe for a cream cheese frosting, so I added that, that one needs to be tweaked, as well.  Now I feel the need to tweak it so it works.  I have a memory of something I had as a child, in reality, it probably came out of a vending machine, but it was some sorta' banana cake.  Have not come across anything similar since.  This one was from that cookie book I asked my mom if I could have awhile back (I think it's from the early 1960's.).  I have a lot of cookbooks/recipe magazines, I'm gonna attempt to make something I haven't tried before from them.  (Which is a lot, for instance, I've only ever made two recipes out of this one before, oatmeal, and peanut butter cookies.  Some of these Spanish recipes are quite involved, and then I have one I bought at the airport in Helsinki that uses various weeds.)  I'm not doing any acting at the moment, and I need a project.

Today

Found a free workshop to make nocino, so went to that and made some.  Instructor gave me a pile of black walnuts, so made some with those, as well.  I opened them to add more vodka (next time I'll use everclear, will keep longer), and they smell really good.  She suggested letting them sit for three months.  She had one she forgot about that sat for a year.  So, that's done.

Tended bar at the Seafood Fest, again.  Ended up working with almost the exact same crew as last year, though it took me a while to figure that out.  Went home and fell asleep and then came back to see Mudhoney.  Looking around at the crowd, people my age and older (mostly) around me, people that were in college during the Grunge era.  People dancing.  And easily as many women my age, as men in the area around the stage.  It was what I needed.  I found it cathartic (as it all was back in the day) with the state of the world being what it was/is.

And then yesterday, really just done with humanity.  Partially, it's our lack of big-picture thinking; our inability to take responsibility for our actions, and to admit that we are wrong (when we've made a mistake), or the unwillingness to even make a mistake...so, we get stuck, dig into camps, rather than look at how things could be better.  How everything is moving toward a "corporate" model, where the only outcomes that matter are money, and watching the joy and life being sucked out from places where they used to exist.  And how I just wanted to say "screw it" and sell everything, and leave town without letting anyone know (my self-destructive tendencies kicking in) and start over and re-invent myself.

And there is a growing lack of nuance (which might be in part, due to our need for immediate answers, and instant gratification, and high levels of distraction from technology), and the ability to see one another as fully human, embracing both heroic, and not so heroic traits, we put people on pedestals thinking they must have all the answers, and then knock them down when they don't (an impossible ask, we are not gods, afterall), instead of taking what is useful and learning from it, so we are always re-inventing the wheel (or as they say, "throwing the baby out with the bath water.")  Most things aren't all or nothing, and people are complicated.  And from headlines and news stories, you'd think we are all "amazed" "astonished!" when someone we deem "bad" does something heroic, or someone we deem "good" does something bad or detestable in our (greater society's, or whomever claims to speak for that) eyes.  All of those possibilities dwell within all of us, just a matter of choice, or a series of choices over time.

I've dealt with some of it, and feel different today, as if I were a different person.  Maybe one better fed, and away from social (and other) media, and not feeling singled out (as I was yesterday.)  One who can see and trust the good in others (as opposed to the fear, which says some frightening and repugnant things; or an unwillingness to question things, a lack of engagement in critical thinking, which is important for a functioning society), and that there are other people with hope, and curiosity, and creativity, and openness, and the willingness to listen, who are willing to be wrong, and willing to change, because the new information allows that to happen.  Still fatigued, and carrying too much, but better some days.

Oh, god, and still need to quit some of these things.  It saddens me, but the joy that I found there once has been sucked out.  Not worth continuing as is...and since it was where I got energy to do other things, not gonna fight this one.

Back to it

Already awake, heard a crow caw, first from one side of the house, than the other, so looked out the window: Nothing.  Shortly after going back to bed, "BOOM!"  Someone in the neighborhood lets off a super loud firework.  Reverberation.  Why????  Who lets off a firework at 5 am?  Just the one.  I had to get up anyway, but a lot of people must've taken today off, very light traffic.

And I like watching the fireworks.  I was watching more sugar-related videos (health consequences, more on that in a later post), to kill time before walking down toward Lake Union.  Checked the time, 10:20 pm, figured I could leave at 9:40 or something.  Didn't actually get out of the house until 10 pm.  No one around.  Tried to walk fast, as I'm on the back side of a hill, and thought that if I could get to the ridge I would be able to see them...not in reality, too many trees.  Finally, figured out that I was too far to the east, so walked over to my old street, and made my way down to a park near the bottom (where I've gone before, long ago).  At various points running down the hill, and then stopping and walking because I felt sorta' dorky for running to look at fireworks.  At any rate, saw about the last ten minute, and then managed to walk most of the way home with people around.  (Not usually the case.)

Got in an extra couple of miles for the day, in addition to the beach, and the stairs to and from the beach.

Bought everything for the nocino, couldn't find a large glass container, so found a growler on sale (narrow neck, but will probably work with the walnuts chopped), and two bottles of juice, which were also on sale.  Not gonna do it tonight, so, guess I'll get up early.  The recipes vary pretty wildly, where some add the sugar at the beginning, but most at it as a syrup after 40 days.  Some say place in cool, dark place to sit, others say to put in the sun.  Another one says to pour the sugar over the walnuts, set in a sunny spot for two days, bring back inside and cover with the alcohol...wildly different starting points, though all say 40 days more or less, before straining.  We'll see.  Hopefully, it's not a bad thing that I have metal lids, some pictures had regular canning jars with metal lids, other recipes specifically say glass, but those are hard to find in the 'hood.

(And I know why I rarely buy alcohol, even on sale, the taxes on the bottle added another $10 to the price. So the bottle listed at $14, ended up being $24.  Yikes!  Not how I usually would spend money.)

Fourth of July, Morning

Smoke billows high over the road and up into the trees.  The scent of charcoal burning, followed closely by the ocean, of seaweed, hits me as I cross the road into the park.  Golden Gardens, Fourth of July.  People setting up and staking out land for potlucks and bbq's, family and work gatherings.  I change my mind about heading toward the water first, and turn to go check out the pond at the end of the parking lot.  It's higher, a few ducks, evidence of beavers, no turtles yet.

Head toward the beach: the tide is out, way out.  There's more beach than I've ever seen, and it looks possible to get to Carkeek Park and back, so I start walking that way.  A woman stops me and asks if I'll photograph her in front of a big rock, she says her mother likes the rock.  I mention something about walking north, she convinces me to go for it, says I might have to wade on the way back (I do, long stretch near North Beach where the incoming tide is above my knees for close to 100 feet.)  She says it's the lowest tide of the weekend (-2.9), around 11:30 am, I think I have time.

I've always wanted to walk there, but never hit the tides right.  By some fortuitous timing, due to stopping to get coffee and a bagel (Fiore, one of my favorite coffee shops), I hit it right today.  Was actually just going to sit somewhere and write, hadn't been paying attention to the tides.  Didn't get any writing done.  Walked 2/3 of the way back barefoot, easier going, lots of sand and didn't have to worry about my shoes getting wet, and it was faster walking on the sand.  (Heading north, the area close to Carkeek was actually harder to cross with shoes, lots of water flowing down to the beach.)  I just looked it up, about 4 miles roundtrip.

Pictures:

Big Rock, July 4/L Herlevi 2016

Going Out, July 4/L Herlevi 2016

Scallop Shell, July 4/L Herlevi 2016

Sunday

Have yet to deal with the walnuts, made refried beans though.  Find it's probably just as well to buy them in a can, probably cheaper, in the end, and it's kinda' a long process: soaking, cooking, cooking again (because I got around to boiling them pretty late last night) and pureeing them.  They tasted fine, just a lot of work for the sake of a taco.  (Although, making them from scratch, you avoid exposure to BPA.)

Made me think about gardening, too.  I think there's a pride thing in growing pumpkins or good tomatoes, but if you were trying to grow things to save money, the things here would be: green beans, peas, kale/mustard (though, those aren't expensive, but along with lettuce, it would give you the option of picking what you needed, instead of having it go to waste in the fridge, since if you buy it from someone else, and you're cooking for only yourself, they often start to disinegrate before you get to them...for me, anyway), herbs (probably the best bang for the buck), berries, zucchini, tomatillos, and rhubarb.  And then any heirloom varieties you want to try, although, if you live near a farmers' market, someone probably sells it.  I was thinking about this because I could better use my allotted space.  (I try zucchini every year, but never have any luck with it.  Last year, all of my squashes produced only male flowers, until late September, by which point, I needed to pull them up.  I can't figure out why.)  I might get beans and pumpkins this year, fingers crossed.

Finally fulfilled a promise to help file a bunch of choral music (one of the choirs had been out of our space for most of the year, so we had stacks of music that needed to be put away) today, so, now I don't have to think about it anymore.

And had the odd thought (for me, since I often find myself at odds with the idea, i.e., sometimes I want a plan, and then on the other side I want freedom - usually, at the same time, that would be the Capricorn with Aquarius rising) but right now, with so much uncertainty, it feels better to have something to work toward, even if it feels overwhelming, than to have nothing to work toward, to be stagnant and lost.  In that corner of my life, I feel more excited than anything else:  anything could happen, and that might be a good thing.  It's ours to carry.

Lots of sirens tonight, never seem to let up.

Glorious long weekend

And I'm sitting around in the house.

Ended up with a bag of green walnuts, so, looking up, and comparing, recipes for nocino (green walnut liqueur) and trying to motivate myself to go out an buy a bottle of vodka, and a big enough container to hold it.  My reticence is both that if I'm home I have a hard time motivating myself to go out (I'm fine if I'm already away from the house; though, all I've done today is to go for a walk, and go to the farmers' market), and a fear of poisoning myself.  I think the chance of the latter is slim, actually, the vodka and sugar probably kill off anything scary.  At any rate, you mix it up and it sits around for 40-60 days, then you strain it into sterile bottles, and let it sit around for a couple more months, and voila.  I don't even really drink much, but it sounds interesting.

Finally saw a rough cut of the film today, it's pretty good for a rough cut, it flows well, especially considering how it was shot.  I think I'm a bit aggro, but maybe there are takes where that is not so much.  Everyone else seems good, to me.

I've been exhausted for the past couple of weeks.  Not even that I need to sleep, though that would help, but that I just lack the energy to move.  Feeling about 30 years older than my actual age when I garden, I just sorta' slowly shuffle around, barely getting anything done, my back's messed up, but it's not just that.  Been taking iron in hopes that it helps, I'm pretty sure I'm anemic, and it seems to be slowly working.  (I was anemic until I went on the Pill, and started eating red meat, but I went off of it over a year ago, and it's a toss up...in some ways I feel better (more emotions), but in others worse (no energy), so...)

The nearest liquor stores seems to have closed it's doors for the time being.  I should probably do something with these walnuts before they rot.

The black duck is a she, and has a few chicks.

Chicks, July 2/ L Herlevi, 2016

Goose, July 2/L Herlevi, 2016

How they are now, July 2/L Herlevi, 2016

Sitting around doing nothing

Another training over with.  Felt like it went deeper this year, but I guess that's how it is with any practice.  Someone asked a question earlier on in the week about what do you think about during the exercises (for lack of a better word.)  And of course, your imagination should always be going, but it's easy for me to forget that when I'm trying to remember how to physically do something, what that walk is like, when do we change direction, when do we look at someone else, what's next, that I forget it's still a theatre class.  Remembering that, and bringing myself back to a story, to breath, was super helpful.  Made everything I did easier, because I now had a reason for doing it, and an aim.

I'm happy, but I also feel like I had another break-up, not with any one person, but that I had this amazing experience that changed me, because of who else was in the room, and now it's over, which feels sudden.  And so, I'm also a little sad.  There's forward growth, and having what was learned and who I learned that with becoming a part of me, but no going back, and no holding onto it.  And this seems to be what I signed up for.  I mentioned it to a couple other people, they said they feel the same after working on shows. (This was like that because it was intense, and clown was definitely like that.)  I went out with a few classmates and a couple of their friends after the showcase.  One of the friends said what she got out of it was that when we were doing our "sentences" or whatever you call them, not "acting", with neutral faces, she saw a variety of people, faces, bodies, etc., and she found that interesting to look at all of us as people, and not as actors.  And someone else commented that when someone wasn't trying to "act" (trying to show something, as opposed to being) the person observing could see the change/expression appear throughout the whole body, not a forced thing, but something that grew out from an experience or imagination.  That's my end goal.

Anyway, we did the showcase on Thursday, and then had four hours of training last night (we'd only been having 2 1/2 for all the other days, because we spent the final part of class creating the slow tempo performance piece, and doing the Ki work.)  We also re-imagined the beginning of one of the longer things (phrases?) we do, "Luna," which I like better, because it no longer feels random to me.  And we did a bunch of partner work, which still feels like a junior high dance, and having to ask someone to "dance" (though, unlike junior high, the likelihood of "no, I don't want to work with you" is much lower, as everyone needs a partner.)  Still, the dread builds up...I worked mostly with people I hadn't yet, people who had been doing this work much longer.  It was good, bigger risks taken, something shifted.

Also, there is only committing to the thing, whatever that is, and I find that I do, even more so when I know I'm getting tired, even when I don't know what I am doing.  It's the return for getting to be there and doing the work with all of these people.

"Something changed,"...indeed.

Monday night

Can't believe the class is almost over.  Tomorrow is the last group to walk the tight rope (my group), and then on Wednesday we'll run through the final Slow Tempo performance piece as a whole group, and then Thursday we'll do all of it publicly, and then Friday is the last class.  Feels over too fast.

The nice thing about the Slow Tempo piece is that there is room to really engage and bring in motivations for what you do, where you came from, where you are going, etc.  Good practice.  (Completely missing for me on the film project.  I worked on it outside of the actual filming, but really not there during the filming.  We shot most of it line by line, not with characters interacting for any length of time.  I need to learn to get and stay in character even if that is the case.)

Ah, it's late.  I can hear rain (unexpected.)  A flash of light through the windows during notes, and then when we were all together to close the evening, the rain really started pounding on the roof and windows: a good sound.