Because I haven't written in a while and it's Lent, and...
Things I am grateful for:
It's spring.
The glorious muted-orange, western sky, last night, with the sudden rain.
I really like my dentist.
The cherry trees look like they might actually bloom before I leave.
Made it through the monologue. The show was fun.
Even if it is a bit of whack-a-mole, loose ends are being tied.
The privilege to travel.
Lent.
Co-worker gave me her Spanish phone, so I won't have to buy one.
D, for tying that shoe.
B, for you thoughtful acts of kindness, that you choose to remember.
R, for the invitations.
For all the people that drive me home from wherever (been a lot of them.)
Creativity (mine and everybody else's)
Kindness (mine and everybody else's)
Courage (mine and everybody else's)
Getting out of my comfort zone.
Cheers.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
Friday, March 10, 2017
Friday
I feel the gentle sting of the tiniest of rain drops as I make my way into work. The volume increases, and my jacket is wet by the time I enter the building. I'll let go of my wish for snow and take the 50 degrees and breezes that the day brings. Been a cold and gloomy stretch of it.
Daffodils, crocuses, skunk cabbage, and others have been in bloom for a couple of weeks. The cherry trees are holding off for warmer weather. The buds are there. Definitely later than in the past couple of years. We actually had a winter this year. (Checked my garden recently; the cold killed off the artichokes, but the arugula survived through all the freezes, all the snowfall. Impressive.)
Insomnia, as usual, should have just gotten up. Fell back asleep, had another dream about walking through unlit hallways, this time at work, and I could see light around the edges of a door frame, but decided if the door was closed, they didn't want to be disturbed. After trying numerous light switches, found one that turned on lights, and the light was so blinding, I couldn't see. Is that progress? Usually, I can't find light in the dreams, and I'm alone. I know there were colleagues around in this one; someone answered when I called out. The new is not completely unknown.
A new bird outside my window woke me up, got me to work on time.
Daffodils, crocuses, skunk cabbage, and others have been in bloom for a couple of weeks. The cherry trees are holding off for warmer weather. The buds are there. Definitely later than in the past couple of years. We actually had a winter this year. (Checked my garden recently; the cold killed off the artichokes, but the arugula survived through all the freezes, all the snowfall. Impressive.)
Insomnia, as usual, should have just gotten up. Fell back asleep, had another dream about walking through unlit hallways, this time at work, and I could see light around the edges of a door frame, but decided if the door was closed, they didn't want to be disturbed. After trying numerous light switches, found one that turned on lights, and the light was so blinding, I couldn't see. Is that progress? Usually, I can't find light in the dreams, and I'm alone. I know there were colleagues around in this one; someone answered when I called out. The new is not completely unknown.
A new bird outside my window woke me up, got me to work on time.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Emptiness
Sunday. Looking forward to an evening of writing. A day of emptiness, desolation. In Discovery Park, unofficial footpaths that cross lonely fields, I hear voices, see people in the distance, but rarely make contact. Finally join the main trail only to get lost, I follow a Japanese couple, the woman has GPS, finally checks her phone when we feel hopelessly lost, I've never seen this place before, I didn't grab a map, I have no idea where we are, or which direction to follow. We do eventually end up at the visitor's center, the arrows make no sense, there is safety in numbers. A man followed behind me, so there were four of us on the wrong path.
Childhood. I remember the streets being empty, hot, deserted. My memory is wrong, we were not the only people walking the sidewalks, hopping through open doors to buy a grilled cheese. That can't be right. But there is a loneliness of childhood, of abandoned military bases, or ones that feel abandoned. Perhaps it's that they are always near a bluff, winds blowing the grass flat, open water before me leading into the unknown world. Fog rolling in. Traffic-less streets. They all feel the same to me; I want to bathe in the melancholy. I had a hard time pulling myself away to walk on the real paths, the ones with people on them, just one more pass through an abandoned field. Just one more. The day dark. Rain and wood smoke.
I have a blister on my heel.
All day, unsettled, desolate, miles through train yards, the trains re-positioning; further on, engines run, lights on, but no engineers on board. They don't head out. The clank of movement. I keep walking. Finally in a neighborhood, a woman approaches, she looks familiar. In the desert of the day, I cross paths with a friend, we greet each other and then go our separate ways. I feel the need to continue on the way. To follow the road to the end.
I wish I'd had a camera, I didn't know I would be there. I missed a movie, doors locked when I arrived. Walked toward the sculpture park, but saw a path, and decided to follow it. I don't want to walk it alone again.
On the beach, a small patch of exposed sand, other footprints, I pick up a piece of brown sea glass, polished smooth, scan the other rocks, then remember that there is raw sewage in the bay, and I probably shouldn't be near the water, and make my way back to the path. Look for a sink to wash my hands. Where the path turns toward Magnolia, a man is darting toward the water, filling up his hands, then backing away, repeatedly. I walk as far away from him as I can, I don't want him to notice me, there is no one else around, though, he is engrossed in his own ritual. There is a sign to stay out of the water, because of the sewage; he takes no notice.
A woman stops to tell me about the cargo ships. Flocks of birds I do not recognize hold lines of territory in the water, in front of the idle ship: no cargo loading today. A boy runs over while I am in the visitor's center to play all the bird songs for me. His mother tries to call him back over to her, promises of reading a book about reptiles, but he stays with me until he has engaged all the bird sounds for me to hear, and then returns to hear stories about snakes. I talk to the woman at the desk about Mountain Beavers, wondering if anyone has actually seen one, she tells me she found a sick one, they get sick from dog wastes. Outside on the grounds people let their dogs run free, even though it asks for them to be leashed. No one to enforce it. I go out and walk in the woods, enjoying the silence, in spite of my sore feet. I walk until I am lost.
Childhood. I remember the streets being empty, hot, deserted. My memory is wrong, we were not the only people walking the sidewalks, hopping through open doors to buy a grilled cheese. That can't be right. But there is a loneliness of childhood, of abandoned military bases, or ones that feel abandoned. Perhaps it's that they are always near a bluff, winds blowing the grass flat, open water before me leading into the unknown world. Fog rolling in. Traffic-less streets. They all feel the same to me; I want to bathe in the melancholy. I had a hard time pulling myself away to walk on the real paths, the ones with people on them, just one more pass through an abandoned field. Just one more. The day dark. Rain and wood smoke.
I have a blister on my heel.
All day, unsettled, desolate, miles through train yards, the trains re-positioning; further on, engines run, lights on, but no engineers on board. They don't head out. The clank of movement. I keep walking. Finally in a neighborhood, a woman approaches, she looks familiar. In the desert of the day, I cross paths with a friend, we greet each other and then go our separate ways. I feel the need to continue on the way. To follow the road to the end.
I wish I'd had a camera, I didn't know I would be there. I missed a movie, doors locked when I arrived. Walked toward the sculpture park, but saw a path, and decided to follow it. I don't want to walk it alone again.
On the beach, a small patch of exposed sand, other footprints, I pick up a piece of brown sea glass, polished smooth, scan the other rocks, then remember that there is raw sewage in the bay, and I probably shouldn't be near the water, and make my way back to the path. Look for a sink to wash my hands. Where the path turns toward Magnolia, a man is darting toward the water, filling up his hands, then backing away, repeatedly. I walk as far away from him as I can, I don't want him to notice me, there is no one else around, though, he is engrossed in his own ritual. There is a sign to stay out of the water, because of the sewage; he takes no notice.
A woman stops to tell me about the cargo ships. Flocks of birds I do not recognize hold lines of territory in the water, in front of the idle ship: no cargo loading today. A boy runs over while I am in the visitor's center to play all the bird songs for me. His mother tries to call him back over to her, promises of reading a book about reptiles, but he stays with me until he has engaged all the bird sounds for me to hear, and then returns to hear stories about snakes. I talk to the woman at the desk about Mountain Beavers, wondering if anyone has actually seen one, she tells me she found a sick one, they get sick from dog wastes. Outside on the grounds people let their dogs run free, even though it asks for them to be leashed. No one to enforce it. I go out and walk in the woods, enjoying the silence, in spite of my sore feet. I walk until I am lost.
Monday, February 6, 2017
Snowday
Woke up to a snowday (email telling me not to come to work.) Choir rehearsal was cancelled, too. Went out and walked about 20 kms and now I'm trying to motivate myself to go cook something. That's not going well. I'm not actually nuts, I'm in training for a long hike, and I wanted to give my shoes and outerwear a trial run. Shoes kept my feet dry, though, do not have good grip on wet, smooth rock, nor on slush; jackets could be more waterproof. I stayed warm enough, though. No blisters.
Then found out someone had created a fake facebook account of me, so, dealt with that. Ugh, even messaged my friends pretending to be me, it's creepy.
Here's a view of the snow.
Then found out someone had created a fake facebook account of me, so, dealt with that. Ugh, even messaged my friends pretending to be me, it's creepy.
Here's a view of the snow.
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| Morning, February 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Only When It Snows, February 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Rosehips, February 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Woodland Park, February 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
Tuesday, January 31, 2017
Still can't sleep
Life is good in the crevasses. Stayed away from the news most of Saturday, had long conversations about life with two of my housemates. Walked the lake. Worked the door at a show. It was this performance art piece mostly performed with a slide show and voice over, called "Oil Pressure Vibrator," by a woman who had made a decision to become a hermaphrodite. At some point in the journey, she decides to learn how to operate a piece of heavy machinery, the only woman in her classes. She passes the "driving" test on the third try (everyone failed the second test.) The last slide is a video clip of the machine in operation on the beach, and a woman made out of sand. She handles it with such grace and tenderness, as if it is an extension of her own body, but in the end destroys the woman in the sand. My takeaway from the performance was that I wanted to learn how to operate one of those machines, not for any sexual reasons, but because seeing it used in such a tactile way, rather than as a blunt object, was intriguing. The artist is Geumhyung Jeong from Korea. She's fascinating.
Breaking out in a teenage plague. I think it's the prednisone, I'm trying to wean myself off, but it's makes me feel weird, puffy in the face, heaviness in my chest. (It also helped with the pain, but I need to give my liver a break.)
Watched three hours of reality tv last night as distraction from the news. (My usual distraction is falling asleep to youtube, I'm trying to stop, I'm sure that's not a good thing to be doing.) I still wake up at three with my thoughts racing, unsure if I fall back asleep or not, if I do, it's not particularly restful.
Compassion isn't a weakness, and most religions call for it. Cracking open, and learning to love your neighbor, or at least get to know them, isn't gonna make the world come crashing to an end. If you always need someone for an enemy, once your defeat them, you will find another; you find what you are looking for. If you look for the worst, you will find it, and if you look for the best, you will find it. Fear can make you hate anyone, even those you once loved. Fear tighten up your world, love opens it. You always get to choose. That's your power. There is no "them" against any "us." Those who wish to gain or keep power, will find ways to keep us occupied fighting against one another, to distract us from their bigger game. They run off with the spoils, and we fight over crumbs, thinking we won.
Breaking out in a teenage plague. I think it's the prednisone, I'm trying to wean myself off, but it's makes me feel weird, puffy in the face, heaviness in my chest. (It also helped with the pain, but I need to give my liver a break.)
Watched three hours of reality tv last night as distraction from the news. (My usual distraction is falling asleep to youtube, I'm trying to stop, I'm sure that's not a good thing to be doing.) I still wake up at three with my thoughts racing, unsure if I fall back asleep or not, if I do, it's not particularly restful.
Compassion isn't a weakness, and most religions call for it. Cracking open, and learning to love your neighbor, or at least get to know them, isn't gonna make the world come crashing to an end. If you always need someone for an enemy, once your defeat them, you will find another; you find what you are looking for. If you look for the worst, you will find it, and if you look for the best, you will find it. Fear can make you hate anyone, even those you once loved. Fear tighten up your world, love opens it. You always get to choose. That's your power. There is no "them" against any "us." Those who wish to gain or keep power, will find ways to keep us occupied fighting against one another, to distract us from their bigger game. They run off with the spoils, and we fight over crumbs, thinking we won.
Friday, January 13, 2017
Friday
The birds seem to have broken out in song again this week. Perhaps it's the slow lengthening of the days, the minutes of daylight added to the morning. It's as if the sound had been turned back on, to fill a silence I hadn't noticed as emptiness.
Today is one of the last of the freezing mornings for a while. Hasn't been this cold in a few years. Last year, I think we had one freeze. Made for brilliant sunrises, and clear nights, a full moon, and the brightest Venus I can ever recall. So bright, I thought it must be a plane in the sky, or a light on a tower somewhere nearby. Brilliant skies, but no snow here.
Last night I tried to rush up to First Hill to meet a friend for a drink, thinking I could still make choir practice. Ran late, last minute things at work I had to deal with: a vendor came in late, a lock malfunctioned, etc., and my lack of paying attention to time, meant when I looked at the time, we'd been talking for almost two hours, and I was already late, and in the wrong part of town. We left, he walked me to my Downtown bus stop, via the scenic route. I first resisted, my cautious nature out in force in my head, but little by little, gave in to the route (I would never have taken it, and by myself, it wouldn't necessarily have been safe after dark). I would've walked on well-lit streets. We cut through various buildings, and a park, trees still lit with holiday lights, water frozen, or on the way to frozen. Buildings and stairwells generally deserted, but doors unlocked. There was a certain thrill and magic in it, nothing particularly subversive about it, but it was fun.
I told him later that my "20-year old" would've approved. My 40-something year old self has become cautious in ways I hadn't noticed. There isn't anything necessarily wrong with that, but the observation of it hit me pretty strong. And we change, sure, but sometimes it's so gradual. And is it just a compromise here and there, changing in increments to do the expected? And again that's not wrong, but I guess I'd a wished the choice to be more actively conscious; not just a change to blend in with what is acceptable in a generic sense.
And then is the magic magnified in sharing the experience with another human being, versus all the wonder one can experience on their own? (I mean I can recall road-trips gone wrong, in reality, that stand out as favorite memories because the experience was shared.)
And then I fell asleep with youtube running in the background, which got into my dreams, the voice of a card reader saying, "and this is your soulmate" and I was escaping a friend (who was causing herself trouble in the dream, finally done with the drama, myself) by accepting a ride with an acquaintance (one probably 20 years younger than I, in real life), and trying to get away from the voice, thinking, can't we just see where this goes (and in the dream, I was already seeing someone else). Why does everything have to be made bigger than what is already there? It's just an acquaintance. It's just ride home. It doesn't need to be more than that.
Today is one of the last of the freezing mornings for a while. Hasn't been this cold in a few years. Last year, I think we had one freeze. Made for brilliant sunrises, and clear nights, a full moon, and the brightest Venus I can ever recall. So bright, I thought it must be a plane in the sky, or a light on a tower somewhere nearby. Brilliant skies, but no snow here.
Last night I tried to rush up to First Hill to meet a friend for a drink, thinking I could still make choir practice. Ran late, last minute things at work I had to deal with: a vendor came in late, a lock malfunctioned, etc., and my lack of paying attention to time, meant when I looked at the time, we'd been talking for almost two hours, and I was already late, and in the wrong part of town. We left, he walked me to my Downtown bus stop, via the scenic route. I first resisted, my cautious nature out in force in my head, but little by little, gave in to the route (I would never have taken it, and by myself, it wouldn't necessarily have been safe after dark). I would've walked on well-lit streets. We cut through various buildings, and a park, trees still lit with holiday lights, water frozen, or on the way to frozen. Buildings and stairwells generally deserted, but doors unlocked. There was a certain thrill and magic in it, nothing particularly subversive about it, but it was fun.
I told him later that my "20-year old" would've approved. My 40-something year old self has become cautious in ways I hadn't noticed. There isn't anything necessarily wrong with that, but the observation of it hit me pretty strong. And we change, sure, but sometimes it's so gradual. And is it just a compromise here and there, changing in increments to do the expected? And again that's not wrong, but I guess I'd a wished the choice to be more actively conscious; not just a change to blend in with what is acceptable in a generic sense.
And then is the magic magnified in sharing the experience with another human being, versus all the wonder one can experience on their own? (I mean I can recall road-trips gone wrong, in reality, that stand out as favorite memories because the experience was shared.)
And then I fell asleep with youtube running in the background, which got into my dreams, the voice of a card reader saying, "and this is your soulmate" and I was escaping a friend (who was causing herself trouble in the dream, finally done with the drama, myself) by accepting a ride with an acquaintance (one probably 20 years younger than I, in real life), and trying to get away from the voice, thinking, can't we just see where this goes (and in the dream, I was already seeing someone else). Why does everything have to be made bigger than what is already there? It's just an acquaintance. It's just ride home. It doesn't need to be more than that.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
Starting over
It's a new year (Happy New Year!), the sun is shining, and it's cold. I'm doing this thing today where I devote 15 minutes to one thing. Might only last for the day, might be a longer term thing...don't know, but I've been pretty scattered, and unmotivated. Finally was able to drag myself out of the house late yesterday for an early New Year's/birthday party, just as hail began to fall outside. I went to the bus stop anyway, rain poured, and snow was predicted, but we didn't get any. Lot's of black ice this morning, though, half-way down the front stairs, and grabbing the mailbox for support, I wondered to myself, "Is this a good idea?" Slipped a few times, and ran for a bus (bad idea with ice, did break two ribs falling on ice a few years ago, but catching it would mean less ice to slip on overall), and made it to the U-District in one piece. Now it's mostly melted.
The other thing I'd doing this month is a money fast, no eating out, no going out, or buying coffee, etc (though I do have to renew a couple of memberships). It'll help me see where I am mindlessly spending, and also, I'd still like to take a vacation this year, and will help save for that. There was another resolution somewhere in the back of my head, something about giving up sugar, or increasing the amount of vegetables I ate.
Part of the 15-minute thing is to re-learn both Finnish and Spanish. The Finnish will be harder as there is no translation in the textbook, and the words all look familiar...I must still have some notes, somewhere. That started because I wanted to remember how to say, "Happy New Year!" (Not in the book.) I had to look it up online, but my guess was close, just spelled wrong; and now my 15 minutes are up:
Hyvää uutta vuotta!
The other thing I'd doing this month is a money fast, no eating out, no going out, or buying coffee, etc (though I do have to renew a couple of memberships). It'll help me see where I am mindlessly spending, and also, I'd still like to take a vacation this year, and will help save for that. There was another resolution somewhere in the back of my head, something about giving up sugar, or increasing the amount of vegetables I ate.
Part of the 15-minute thing is to re-learn both Finnish and Spanish. The Finnish will be harder as there is no translation in the textbook, and the words all look familiar...I must still have some notes, somewhere. That started because I wanted to remember how to say, "Happy New Year!" (Not in the book.) I had to look it up online, but my guess was close, just spelled wrong; and now my 15 minutes are up:
Hyvää uutta vuotta!
Saturday, December 24, 2016
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!
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!
Sunday, December 18, 2016
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
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.
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.
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