Don't Forget...

Happy Guy Fawkes Day, everyone.

I feel it appropriate this year that the fifth of November falls the day before election day, so I felt I'd take a moment and remind the maybe one person that reads this blog everyone to vote tomorrow.

I know, it's kind of a pain in the ass: you've got to make sure you're registered, you've got to figure out where the shit your polling place is, you've got to take time out of your day to go stand in line with a bunch of some-how strangers, even though they all live in your neighborhood, you've got to make decisions (one of my least favorite things to do).

Voting kind of kicks ass though. And if you have lady bits, as opposed to man-bits, if your skin is darker than honky shade, or really, if you're anything other than a white, straight male (that demographic has got it made!), think about how long ago it was that you would have been frowned upon for voicing your opinion concerning who runs this country. It hasn't really been that long. The Oreo cookie was invented before vaginas were welcomed to the polls. Afro-American? You could vote before ladies could, but could you? Really? Jim Crow made that pretty difficult, even after Susan B. Anthony cast her ballot victoriously.

I feel like it's very easy for my generation, and even the one just before it, to completely take advantage of the civil and political liberties we have. I'm torn on this issue for two reasons: I have personally never faced severe sexism or oppression because of my gender. I'm a lucky lady. Secondly, the word "feminist" has been rather abused over the past few decades, becoming associated with some big, hairy, butch women who yell and scream about how they're oppressed and are generally more annoying than active.

What I do know is that I didn't have to personally put my life (it's contents or my actual ability to breathe) on the line to get what I have today: Equal opportunity for jobs, schools and housing, the right to stand up for myself if some jerk is being a dick, and the right to help choose political leaders. Honestly, I vote to keep all of those things, and hopefully improve what I can for the next generation. I feel like if the wrong choices are made this election, I will have to put my life on hold and go become an activist. That would piss me off to no end, but I'm sure plenty of women during suffrage and plenty of African Americans during the civil rights movement had far grander dreams than writing letters, marching and demonstrating, but they knew things had to change, and they made it happen. Because they kick ass, they're selfless and you can actually do that in this country, which is also pretty amazing.

Also, no matter what your political beliefs, voting is one of the few times you're expected to pass severe judgement on people you don't know personally, which is kind of fantastic. It's when you can say, "I'm going to vote for such and such senator!" You may exclaim. And your friend can look at you and say, "That guys a total dick!" And no one's going to stop and say, "Hey now, come on, I mean, have you ever met him? He's a sweetheart!" Think of it as your guilt-free judging people day! No one does that in voting season. Everyone is expected to, at the very least, not like someone.

So vote. Tell D.C. and your local governments who you want, and chuckle to yourself in the booth while you think about what a prick that other guy is. Get that sweet feeling of smugness when you see someone notice your ballin' "I Voted" sticker. Then join the country as you sit in front of the television or computer (or radio if you're really awesome and also my new favorite person) tomorrow night and nibble on your cuticles while giving your personal brand of witty commentary when each state gets their votes counted.

Remember remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder, treason and plot. I know of no reason the fifth of November should ever be forgot.

Today Was Boring

I know, that post title is just so inviting. Also, not entirely true. For me today was pretty fantastic. I got an extra hour of sleep (thanks daylight savings time!) to was a beautiful day, highs in the sixties (boo, weather! I have so many sweaters! Chill out, would you?) I knit up until I had to go to work, and then only got called in for two hours (Boo, work! I need hours, don't make me quit you for something more lucrative that I'm not entirely convinced exists...) I just consider all of those things fairly uninteresting to most other people.

However! Yesterday was highly eventful! Well, relatively eventful:

Suzuki training in the morning. It was our first session at the Dojo (I think is what it's called... martial arts practice space). It was exhausting and painful and I felt like a failure while doing it, which generally means you're doing it right.

An amazing Fall bike ride to above training. This is my favorite time of year to ride a bike. Especially in the mornings. I love to carefully select the perfect layers that will keep me warm and cuddled and the smell! The smell is so amazing.

Knit shop hang-out time. Yeah: not boring though some may disagree. I had to felt some slippers for the ESMF (which turned out fabulously) and I knit, drank tea and nibbled on goodies with the ladies for a bit while they tumbled about in the washer.

I got offered to direct something professionally. EEP! Third gig offer out of college, but I won't be divulging anything until things are set. I will just say it's an opportunity I've always wanted and it would be working with people for whom I have a huge amount of respect.

Made soup. Brie and Zucchini soup. "Whaaa?" You may say, IF YOU'RE AN IDIOT BECAUSE THIS SOUP IS AMAZING AND I AM EATING IT RIGHT NOW! (Thanks, sister!)

Had a lovely business/personal meeting with a dear friend about our future of working with each other in which we laughed a lot, cried a little and consumed just the right amount of wine. Much love.

This post a day thing is easy. (She said just three days in having already failed by not posting on the first, so thereby has nothing to lose.)

Startin' Shit

This is the time of year that I get to "startin' Shit" more than any other time. Granted, at any given moment you can find me startin' shit in a variety of ways. Crappy vehicle? I've been known to start that shit. Getting mouthy with someone far larger than me but obviously deserves it? I've definitely gotten into startin' that shit. Most importantly, however, and causing the least amount of physical, mental and emotional harm to others (but maybe not myself) is a whole slew of projects on the needles.

I started that shit today. It's pretty amazing, (like the future recipient: My Mom) I'm really excited about it, and I hope to finish it by the end of the month. And yes, that spinning wheel in the background will likely also come into play this Christmas season. If I can stop sucking at spinning.

I should perhaps at this juncture mention that, yes, I am absolutely aware that one "should" have quality photos on one's blog if one would like to be taken at all seriously. To that I would say, it may be in my best interest to not be taken seriously. In most aspects of my life. I have a really crappy point and shoot that I use to take photos for record keeping during my Spring acting job and I have a non-iPhone situation which takes photos that are slightly better, and seen above.

In short, to anyone who has complaints about my photo qualities on this blog I would like to pose the question: Why you gotta be startin' shit?

November is the Month Bloggers Get All Crazy

So apparently November is National Blogging some stuff month. I think the official title is a little more official sounding and has a clever short hand, but the fact that there's anything "official" about blogging is still a little difficult for me to grasp. Don't get me wrong, I'm aware people make their livings from blogging, and that's awesome, but I consider that being a writer, not just a blogger. Usually, those people have something else they do aside from just blog too, like create art that they blog about, etc.

In any case, in true me fashion I've already failed and National Blogging month because it started yesterday and I didn't post yesterday (I mean, come one, I didn't even do an anniversary post). But I've decided that posting every day in November sounds fun. So I shall. And I also don't have nearly enough things to worry about getting done right now. Nope. No Christmas gifts I'm knitting, or looking for a fourth job, or managing a  website. Just sitting around watching my stories and eating chocolates.

If there's anything specific you think I should write about or address, let me know. I'm sure I'll run out of ideas by tomorrow. Some days it may just be a picture or a word, but I'll have one post for every day of November.

Except the first. Because fuck the first.

I Actually Read Some Books

Perhaps you recall a post in which I expressed a desire to read more. Perhaps you don't. Either way, that's fine, I just needed a contextual lead-in.

This summer I added to my "I'm actually a 70-year-old lady living in a twenties-something body" image by joining a book club. Yup. Knitter, Law and Order watcher and book club attender. The club was actually something started by a couple of actors in a theater company I worked for this summer, and their goal was to read three books while most of the company was in town this summer. I thought I'd share the books I read with that club and a few others that I picked up for... yes... Fun.

The first "required reading" of the summer was Imagine by Jonah Leher. That was our June book. Since then it has had quite a bit of national attention, mostly because it's become apparent that the author fabricated a large amount of the quotes he used from Bob Dylan. Because if you're going to fabricate quotes from someone, make it the most studied musician still alive.
 

Leher turning out to be a bit of a fraud and mostly an idiot aside, this book was great. It was a non fiction piece that explored how people think creatively and what environments nurtures creative thinking best. Leher explored the offices at Pixar, executives at Apple, the invention of the Swiffer, why Shakespeare is awesome, and of course, how Bob Dylan writes his lyrics, which I suppose now I'll never know. I'd recommend it to you, but it's been recalled. So if you see a copy of it at a used book store somewhere, pick it up, it's likely to be worth a bit of money someday. And I only bought a digital copy. Dammit.

The July selection for book club was In One Person by Jon Irving. Apparently, Jon Irving is kind of a big deal in the fiction world and the book was good. I got really sucked in about halfway through but was left a little nonplussed by the ending, but it's absolutely worth a read. Our club had a wide variety of demographics, with ages ranging from 25-75, professions ranging from actors to teachers to theater supporters of unknown profession (this usually means they're well-off for some reason and like to give money to theaters, which we like), not to mention the varying degrees of sexual orientation, and that made discussions about the book quite interesting. The time span is roughly late 50's through 2010 so some of the readers in our group actually lived through that entire era, it was great to hear that kind of perspective.

 

The August selection was Bleak House by Charles Dickens. I'll be more honest with you than I was with the club. Fuck that book. That thing's huge. I'm not reading it in a month, and Charles Dickens kind of boars me to tears. Some day I will read it. The premise sounds interesting enough but with one month to read it and being overloaded with teaching children and trying to get summer sales up at the yarn shop, I couldn't commit to it. So I didn't and I only feel a little bad about it because I picked the book (which was then voted on with many other books that were suggested) and led the discussion.

I do respect Charles Dickens. He's great. I cannot abide 1000 very descriptive foggy scenes and sad children in one month though.

Okay, I actually feel really bad about it, but I'm getting over it.

One of the books I picked up on a whim while I was stopping by a local bookstore on my way home and clearing them out of their used copies of Arden edition Shakespeare plays was Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative By Austin Kleon. This book was great. It's a quick read, it was accessible, it was fun. I've always been one to steal from my friends (in the most flattering and constructive way possible, of course) and in theater and dance, we're often encouraged to steal each others ideas and make them our own. This works nicely in the theater world because everyone's capabilities physically, vocally, mentally, etc, are so vastly different that no mater what you "steal" from someone, you can't help but change it into something the reflects yourself a little bit.

I have a problem with these kind of books generally though, these books that go about giving you tips on how to better your creative process and that's essentially this: it's a difficult thing to do and everyone goes about it differently. It's great that I can read about all these very useful and logical tips that are full of merit and good intentions, but when it comes right down to it, I can't analyze every step of my creative process that easily. Sometimes I make to-do lists every morning for a particular project. Sometimes I sit for a few hours and just think about a problem I'm having in a show. Sometimes I don't do any creative work and just go see other peoples shows for weeks on end. I really believe that all of these things are really necessary to how I make work, but I don't have a specific process yet, and I don't feel like I need that yet.

All in all, the book will take you a few hours to read, and I do feel like I gained quite a bit from it.

The last book I read this year is a bit of a cheat... it's a re-read I picked up before starting directing a show last week called Notes on Directing by Frank Hauser and Russell Reich. This book kicks some pretty major ass. If all the books I read this summer were superhero characters, this one would be the leading bad ass superhero. Batman of books. It's active, it's consice, and it knows it's shit. I've had a lot of coffee dates with this witty and wise book, and I'll continue to re-read it regularly, I think.

Hauser was a pretty big-deal theater director and Reich was one of his students and admirers. Judy Dench was one of his admirers too. Excuse me. DAME JUDY DENCH. The one that's awesome.

That is not to say this book is for everyone. In fact, if you don't work in theater, this book would either bore you, or be akin to reading an instruction manual in a foreign language. I think a lot of the director-specific advice in this book is actually related similarly on a broader scale in Steal Like an Artist, but if you work in theater at all, this is a good one. Up there with TIPS and A Practical Handbook to Acting. Which I don't actually remember reading because that was a while ago, but I'm told they're quite good reads as well.

In case you were wondering, the rest of the books would be the following in the superhero world: Imagine: Catwoman, because it was pretty awesome, but still naughty underneath it all.
In One Person:  The Riddler, for it's mysterious and full-of-secrets nature.
Steal Like and Artist: Robin. An appropriate but oddly dressed and sometimes slightly childish companion to Notes on Directing.
Bleak House: Ice Man. Yeah. Bleak House doesn't even get an actual character analogy, just a big, giant thing for Arnold Schwarzenegger to waste his time with.

In other news: I'm directing a show. I've officially knit more things than I can remember, things are exploding. I've taken over website updates and monthly e-mails for the yarn store and I've had three job interviews in two days. Hey, at least I'm getting interviews, and my schedule isn't absolutely unworkable now.

The Boards

If you are in anyway put-off by sentiment, grossed out by dreaminess, or if your stomach turns at the very thought of feeling warm and fuzzy inside, I recommend that you skip this post entirely. For the rest of you, grab some crackers because we're about to get real cheesy all up in here. Yeah. That joke.

In all seriousness though, I feel that it's important for me to share this with everyone I have ever met, because I have a feeling that I will look back on these days for years to come with great happiness and appreciation.

You may call me silly, childish, foolish or an idealist. You should then know that I will always be the first to admit that I am still very much a little girl inside, and I wouldn't change that for the world. Grown ups seem so much less enchanted and excited about so many things in life that I cherish.

All prologues aside, you will need a little back story for the proper level of perspective on this tale.

Twelve years ago, just headed into high school, my parents moved here (with the resentful, ungrateful child that I was) from a small college town in central Pennsylvania. Like many teenagers uprooted from their social circle, I was less than pleased. Already not the most social creature for my age, the amount of self-consciousness, teenage angst and general negativity I carried around throughout the next few years did not make me a likely candidate to make many new friends.

The bright light for my new, uncomfortable home, the only time I felt completely lost in a sheer, full, over-whelming happiness and joy was when I got to see shows at the Shakespeare Festival. I had an unusual interest in Shakespeare from a young age and seeing shows at the festival, in the beautiful outdoor amphitheater, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was (watch out, here comes the silly, childish, hopeless romantic) magical.

It was then, at fourteen that I knew I wanted to perform on that stage at some point in my life. Had you known me then, you may have thought that it would have been nearly impossible. I was shy, awkward and couldn't speak in front of a group of people to save my life without getting a severe case of the shakes. Shakespeare's work however, was so mysterious and enticing to me that I awkwardly trudged on.

Years later I studied theater in college, graduated and began working for the Festival through teaching (which was where I got my first training as an actor) and educational outreach tours (still, best job I've ever had, luckiest girl in the world, cannot say enough good things about the work that gets done with the tour).

It was over a decade after I had had my first magical experience in the outdoor amphitheater on a nature reserve when I was offered a role in the season's opening production of Romeo and Juliet. For those of you that don't know, the show that opens the season here has already been running in a theater in Ohio for about a month. Many of the cast members are brought along with the production out west, while others that move onto different projects back east, are replaced with different actors from all over, including some local ones. What that really means from an actors perspective is that we have a considerably shortened rehearsal process (two weeks, as opposed to the usual three) and a LOT to learn.

Walking into any rehearsal space for the first time has a general thrill of it's own but this one has been particularly amazing. The members of the cast that had already been a part of the production not only welcomed us warmly, but were patient, sweet and helpful when it came to incorporating new members of the cast. Not only have I been working with some truly inspiring, talented and genuinely kind people, but many of them I have admired from an audience vantage point for years.

And so, on opening night--an experience so surreal and enchanting--I was waiting in the wings to make the final entrance into Capulet's tomb off stage and looked at the nearly full moon, heard the text I'd read fifteen years earlier that convinced me I wanted to be an actor, and I was overcome with an inexplicable joy and satisfaction, knowing that I had made my first traipse across the boards of a stage that I had longed to walk for many years. Surrounded by actors that I've admired for years that were suddenly co-workers and friends.

Aptly, for the play selection and although I am now well into my twenties, I feel like a fourteen-year-old girl with the biggest crush on this show and all the amazing talent and beauty with whom I am privileged to share it.

Time and Money: Notes on Having Neither.

My mother used to always warn me that I had to make a choice when it came to working (I was very eager to join the workforce at fourteen, when many adults told me I should have fun being a kid). I could have either time or money, but never both. This of course is an adaptation of Ben Franklin's quote, "time is money" which surely was stolen from someone less charismatic than Mr. Franklin. It's a good rule of thumb. For most people. I'm sure there are a few people out there who are independently wealthy and do whatever they choose with their time. That's great. Good for them. I think that would drive me crazy.

Something I was never prepared for though, something that snuck up on me in the last month and a half while I've been attempting to stay out of the restaurant industry and do only things I love for money, something my mother neglected to warn me about (likely because it's fairly rare if you're following a "traditional" life style trajectory, though I consider myself lucky that it's taken this long to catch up with me...) is that there are times when I will possess neither time nor money. Which is my excuse for not updating the blog in over a month.

I did get a glimpse of this in college. When I got cast in a show that rehearsed four hours a night, while enrolled in 16-17 credits and working part time (for often times, very understanding employers). But college was different, or, I should say special. It was a different sort of busy. There was a fall-back net. People give you a certain amount of understanding, sympathy and respect when you're in college, (never mind the beauty of short-term emergency loans) which seems to deteriorate shortly after graduation.

The thing is this: I'm fairly proud of myself. Since loosing my job at the restaurant less than a year ago, I've managed to make my living off of teaching Shakespeare, performing, and a little off knitting, with only three months of unemployment thrown in there. Now, seeing as the touring production I love so well ended the first week in April, I needed something else theater oriented to occupy my time. I was offered the job as stage hand for Red Light Variety Show, which if you haven't heard of, you really should check out. They center largely around burlesque, but also include silk dancing, pole dancing, trapeze awesomeness, tight rope acts and some all around amazing, creative ways to show off their lovely, completely normal, gorgeous bodies. I had a blast. It was a really eye-opening experience, some really inspiring, beautiful, creative, unabashed and amazing acts.

Red Light only lasted for two short weekends, I could have done it for months, easily, even though I was clearly the most modest person in the green room. It was really wonderful to be surrounded by so many people who are so comfortable with being themselves. They were also generous enough to pay me for my time, which was wonderful.

It's not to say I haven't been for want of things lately. I'm barely scraping by. Nothing's been shut off, yet, but white rice has been making itself the daily meal lately. Laundry has been falling by the wayside, seeing as I have neither the time to stick around to do a load, nor the quarters to scrounge together to make it so my clothes aren't looking for a line to dry on (if we had a line, I'd use it, dryers kind of freak me out...). The apartment is a veritable pit, partly because the set designer for the latest project (ESMF) has had no where else to go to construct the set other than our 500 sq. ft. of awesome, and partly because we simply don't have time to tend to it. I don't think we've had toilet paper that wasn't stolen from a public facility in months (I already feel pretty bad about that, so please refrain from chastising me for theft).

The project I began in tandem was a play called Me and My Shadow. This project is a little tricky to explain, so we'll just call it experimental. It was put on with the Creative Improvised Music Festival, so the music/sound design was all played live and improvised. Yes. Super awesome. The space in which we performed was a venue typically associated with concerts, so the stage was relatively small (luckily most of us had performed in the space multiple times, so we were comfortable with the setting). Being in tandem with a music festival, we unfortunately had a condensed run- a mere two days, but we made them count and all had something to be proud of. Particularly the playwright, who is not only one of my dear friends, fellow graduate but now also colleague!

It may appear that I'm rambling and have no real point here, aside from sharing my last month and half with you. I suppose what I really want to share with you is this: this job is hard. It depends a lot on making your own work. From playwright to director to actor to designers (all of whom went into this process not expecting to be paid, only to find out by small miracle and little bit of luck we made our kickstarter goal) we all donated a significant amount of time. I'd also venture to say that 90% of people involved on this project were under 30 (okay, I'm cheating a little and counting the ESMF, but in spirit he really is twenty-two, or younger) and it was, all and all a success. We are all in the midst of paving our own way to make our own work in a town that has a hard time supporting all of the artists it produces. And I am so proud. So proud of my friends, my co-workers, my fellow artists, my now-colleagues. Particularly the playwright, whom I have watched grow, change and completely kick-ass both personally and professionally over the past seven years. This year, like me, she will officially be making her living from doing only things she loves to do: writing and workshoping plays.

And she's not the only one. So will I, so will the ESMF, so will the rest of my tour-mates. And rather randomly, I ran into an old friend that I was in Les Mis with nearly ten years ago at Me and My Shadow. Admit-ably, I've been blog stalking her for a while, but she's now going on to graduate school for acting, which is arguably harder than making your own work (you can blog-stalk her too, if you like: here). All of this in a dwindling economy, which is when most people assume that the arts are falling to shit.

So, how on earth, while lacking all of these things am I finally finding time to update you on my life? Well, through Wednesday, I'm spending time with my fathers side of the family in lovely Cleveland, OH. Some much need catch up time with this side of the family, whom I haven't seen in upwards of ten years. It has been... So relaxing. I get up, knit with my Grandmother for several hours, we go to lunch, I read some Shakespeare, we knit some more. We watch Law and Order, we knit some more. So much awesome.

Although, I will say I was in such a hurry to pack for this flight (I left after closing of Me and My Shadow, meaning I got roughly 3 hours of sleep/packing time) and so between about not wanting to check a bag and being so paranoid about getting stopped at security, I left behind all toiletries. I'm a bit stinky.

And a lot happy.