At the end of the day it always comes down to business. The business of breathing, the business of living, and the business of business.
I figured I'd let you all know what I'm up to at the moment, if only to make certain I am in fact living. Currently I am waiting to hear back on my abstract submission to the Ohio Valley Shakespeare Conference. I submitted a paper that would explore why Chaucer was not in William Shakespeare's "Richard II", and hopefully I will hear from them by the end of the month. I'm also working on two books at this exact moment: a Steampunk retelling of "Beauty and the Beast" and a high fantasy mystery. They are keeping me busy, in their own way, and I'm hoping to have the fairytale done by the end of June if things keep on schedule. I'm also making jewelry, which is fun. I've found the long hours of arguing with wire and chain is very soothing to me. My mind is able to take a break, I am able to relax, and my day generally goes better after taking the time to de-stress. It's great.
Hopefully things go well for all of you in the coming week.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Summertime Blues
There is something about summer--be it the endless stream of vacationing friends, the hazy days, the heat, or the general lack of school--that makes time just drift away. Days begin to blur together until you look at your phone and realize "what, it's Thursday already?" I think this strange, disheartening state is why I dislike summer so much. Oh, certainly, it has its appeal in its freedom and fun events, but that driving passion we experience for it during the winter seems to fade during the first month of summer.
I know that I've been struggling this week, if only because I feel so little motivation. My stories are growing healthily and my writing is only improving, but as a person I feel kind of... flat. Even with my days gaining more structure I always feel like there is more that I could do--then again, that may have something to do with my lack of a job. So, I keep plugging away with applying for jobs, writing, and making jewelry, but I just can't wait for school to start again.
I know that I've been struggling this week, if only because I feel so little motivation. My stories are growing healthily and my writing is only improving, but as a person I feel kind of... flat. Even with my days gaining more structure I always feel like there is more that I could do--then again, that may have something to do with my lack of a job. So, I keep plugging away with applying for jobs, writing, and making jewelry, but I just can't wait for school to start again.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
My Theatre
At this exact moment I am sitting in the library wondering "Where has time gone?" It seems like just yesterday that I was telling Dad I would post a blog after I got done with Spring Break--that was two months ago. Ironically the past two months have been both wonderfully difficult and mildly heartbreaking, which is how things always seem to go for me.
The reason I have not written until just now is that I am a perfectionist. Crazy, right?
For my directing II class I decided to go the route less taken and do a classical play. Professor Marotta thought that I was absolutely insane for picking "The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus", but I was determined to show him that I was the best person for the job. I spent all of March cutting the play down to being only thirty minutes long and containing only three characters, and I managed to cast three fantastic actresses to play the parts--and yes, I changed the three characters to being girls. Professor Marotta was still dubious of my doing such a "talky" play, but I knew it was going to work.
All through April I spent nearly every night either in rehearsal, production meetings, or finding the pieces of costume and set that I needed. Days began to blur together, but slowly a beautiful piece began to emerge from the stinted lines and rounds of laughter. By the time Professor Marotta saw one of my rehearsals--an admittedly rough day--it looked like my play was going to be absolutely wonderful. He was excited to see what I managed to pull out, and I was excited because I knew we were doing something wonderful.
When the night of the performance came everything went beautifully (especially considering that I spent only $20 on the production). The audience seemed to follow the story, and I couldn't have been more proud of my actresses.
Then came the talk-back with the directing class.
Professor Marotta spent a few minutes telling me how many things I did wrong--only one or two things being "theatrical" enough for his taste--before moving on to discuss the other pieces. I was... heartbroken. While we struck the lights and the set I was moments away from tears, and all because I thought that I had failed.
After we were done clearing things away I talked to Dad. It's amazing, but there is nothing like a good talk with your dad to make the world a better place. He reminded me that I had accomplished what I had wanted to do: I did a good play in almost the exact style I had set out tell the story with. Literally, the scenes I had seen going on in my head when I was cutting the script had been brought to life, and he reminded me how difficult that was to accomplish. The best thing he said to me, though? He reminded me that Heavenly Father was pleased with what I had done. In the night of theatre in which my company performed my piece was the only one that did not drive the spirit out.
Because of the opinion of one class I had almost let myself toss the experience off as a failure when I had succeeded in most every way. I've learned that standing up for what you believe in and doing good, honest theatre is not going to get you very many standing ovations. What it does get you, instead, is a stronger testimony and a warmth of soul that nothing else can give. Theatre can touch the heart, inspire the mind, and uplift the soul--when it does that it is my theatre.
The past two months have been hard for me--that much work is draining, especially when taking other classes along with it--but it was worth it. I know who I am and what I want to do, and I'm not afraid to do it anymore.
Look out world; I know scummy theatre isn't the only answer.
The reason I have not written until just now is that I am a perfectionist. Crazy, right?
For my directing II class I decided to go the route less taken and do a classical play. Professor Marotta thought that I was absolutely insane for picking "The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus", but I was determined to show him that I was the best person for the job. I spent all of March cutting the play down to being only thirty minutes long and containing only three characters, and I managed to cast three fantastic actresses to play the parts--and yes, I changed the three characters to being girls. Professor Marotta was still dubious of my doing such a "talky" play, but I knew it was going to work.
All through April I spent nearly every night either in rehearsal, production meetings, or finding the pieces of costume and set that I needed. Days began to blur together, but slowly a beautiful piece began to emerge from the stinted lines and rounds of laughter. By the time Professor Marotta saw one of my rehearsals--an admittedly rough day--it looked like my play was going to be absolutely wonderful. He was excited to see what I managed to pull out, and I was excited because I knew we were doing something wonderful.
When the night of the performance came everything went beautifully (especially considering that I spent only $20 on the production). The audience seemed to follow the story, and I couldn't have been more proud of my actresses.
Then came the talk-back with the directing class.
Professor Marotta spent a few minutes telling me how many things I did wrong--only one or two things being "theatrical" enough for his taste--before moving on to discuss the other pieces. I was... heartbroken. While we struck the lights and the set I was moments away from tears, and all because I thought that I had failed.
After we were done clearing things away I talked to Dad. It's amazing, but there is nothing like a good talk with your dad to make the world a better place. He reminded me that I had accomplished what I had wanted to do: I did a good play in almost the exact style I had set out tell the story with. Literally, the scenes I had seen going on in my head when I was cutting the script had been brought to life, and he reminded me how difficult that was to accomplish. The best thing he said to me, though? He reminded me that Heavenly Father was pleased with what I had done. In the night of theatre in which my company performed my piece was the only one that did not drive the spirit out.
Because of the opinion of one class I had almost let myself toss the experience off as a failure when I had succeeded in most every way. I've learned that standing up for what you believe in and doing good, honest theatre is not going to get you very many standing ovations. What it does get you, instead, is a stronger testimony and a warmth of soul that nothing else can give. Theatre can touch the heart, inspire the mind, and uplift the soul--when it does that it is my theatre.
The past two months have been hard for me--that much work is draining, especially when taking other classes along with it--but it was worth it. I know who I am and what I want to do, and I'm not afraid to do it anymore.
Look out world; I know scummy theatre isn't the only answer.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
My Thoughts on Web 2.0
It's fascinating how computers have changed, even within the past ten years. Our society has gone from only the elite using computers to their use and functions being a required class for every college student at my university to take. Instead of being all about the companies online, computers are about the people using them. Social networks of all kinds are springing up, damaging the ability to communicate in person but allowing millions to connect in newfound ways. Web 2.0 is a good move in that it is not so focused on the money but instead the content; but, at the same time it is a movement that is making my generation become socially incompetent.
(By way of note, this is for my CSIS 1000 class)
(By way of note, this is for my CSIS 1000 class)
Sunday, January 31, 2010
How to Eat an Elephant
So I don't know how many of you know, but my apartment currently has a dog named Evie (or Flower, as my Dad likes to call her). She's a bit of a spaz dog, and since she's a Chinese Crested she's got... very little hair. One of my roommates, Jamie, decided it would be absolutely hilarious to get our little ten pound dog a rawhide bone that is... almost as big as she is.
Since Evie is a rescue dog she has a few interesting quirks, and we discovered one when Jamie threw her the bone. Our dog actually started to warble at the bone and bark at it and paw at it in a sort of terror. It was hilarious! She eventually tried biting it, after five minutes of examination, but tried to bite it the long way, which meant her mouth did not fit. Well, truth be told her mouth doesn't fit no matter which way she goes. Since I have neither a baby or a spouse, I figured I would share pictures of Evie and her bone instead. Sorry they are low quality, since it's night my phone was somewhat fail at taking pictures.
Since Evie is a rescue dog she has a few interesting quirks, and we discovered one when Jamie threw her the bone. Our dog actually started to warble at the bone and bark at it and paw at it in a sort of terror. It was hilarious! She eventually tried biting it, after five minutes of examination, but tried to bite it the long way, which meant her mouth did not fit. Well, truth be told her mouth doesn't fit no matter which way she goes. Since I have neither a baby or a spouse, I figured I would share pictures of Evie and her bone instead. Sorry they are low quality, since it's night my phone was somewhat fail at taking pictures.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Within the Self-Truth
You know, for as long as I can remember I have always been a loner by nature. I have only ever had one or two main friends at a given time, and whenever I've had more than that things... just tend to go badly. More importantly, though, I have always felt as if I have never needed someone else to stick up for me. Nothing (in my mind) could match the sharpness of my own tongue, and no one knew quite enough to save me from the "monsters" of the world--except myself, of course.
And then this semester hit.
It started off with quite the assignment from my Directing II professor, Anthony. He wanted us to tell him "This is my theatre. This is what I have to say." in five to ten minutes--beyond that he gave us no real idea of what the assignment was supposed to be. Since I'm such a loner, it took me maybe half an hour to decide that I could do the project all by myself, which would eliminate the need to rely on other actors. Without quite realizing it I decided to do something.. very personal: Richard III's opening monologue (from Shakespeare's Richard III) and a piece of my own crafting, "And They Call Me A Freak". When I practiced this particular piece it was like clockwork--I did not have to do much by way of emotion and did not feel even the slightest inclination towards crying.
The day dawned when we were to present our pieces, and I was still confident that I would be able to do mine without really having to invest in it emotionally. Everything was fine right up until I had cleared my stage and turned to look at my audience. I realized in that moment that I was exposing a part of my soul that I had not really showed them before, and... these people were not ones that I trusted on any particular level. In fact, for the most part I had gotten along very well drifting at the edges of their awareness and suddenly I was putting myself, and my personal demons, front and center. The ensuing performance was more emotional than I can ever truly explain. Pain, anger, fear, and a myriad of emotions all came to a boiling point together, and I let slip more of myself than I think I have ever shown to anyone in a five minute period.
It taught me something, though. Though these people were strangers, I was able to share my soul with them because that is what I want to do with my theatre. I want people to see that there is a beauty that exists beyond the mortal facade, and I want them to know that truth exists in pain just as it exists in joy. Oddly, now that I have been so frank with them, I've noticed that my life, my perceptions of the world and the people in it, are changing.
Today... I had a genuinely strange dream. For one reason I was at the mall with one of the girls from my Directing II class (one I've known since my first semester here but have never been close to). She wanted to stop in a shop with someone else that was there with us, and I told them I was just going to window shop a little further down the way. Well, I noticed a beautiful costume shop and decided to go in--I did not intend to be more than a moment or two. Once inside I explored a little, and suddenly this guy told me I had no right to be in the store. That beasts were not allowed near such fine things. Long story short, I got chased out of the store. But the people did not stop there. The next thing I knew I was surrounded by people telling me that I had no right to live and that monsters should be killed... I tried to tell them that I was a human being just like them, but they would not listen. One of them hit me, and soon I was on the ground just... sobbing my little heart out. And then the strangest thing happened. Suddenly my classmate broke through the circle and told the people around me that they were the monsters.
At first I was just... disturbed by this dream. Usually when I go out to defend myself people are either stunned that I am capable of intelligent thought or are absolutely frightened of me, but it did not work... And then I realized something more miraculous: I was able to accept the help that someone offered me. It might have just been a dream, certainly, but I believe it is more than that.
I think, for the first time in my life, I am at a point where I do not have to always defend myself. I can step back and let other people fight the real monsters in my world and not feel upset about it. This is such a weird place that I simply do not know how to handle it, but I think it's a good thing.
And to all of you who have wanted to stand up for me... Thanks. And to those who have stood up for me? You mean more than I have ever bothered to say. Thank you. Hopefully I can become someone worthy of your help and friendship.
And then this semester hit.
It started off with quite the assignment from my Directing II professor, Anthony. He wanted us to tell him "This is my theatre. This is what I have to say." in five to ten minutes--beyond that he gave us no real idea of what the assignment was supposed to be. Since I'm such a loner, it took me maybe half an hour to decide that I could do the project all by myself, which would eliminate the need to rely on other actors. Without quite realizing it I decided to do something.. very personal: Richard III's opening monologue (from Shakespeare's Richard III) and a piece of my own crafting, "And They Call Me A Freak". When I practiced this particular piece it was like clockwork--I did not have to do much by way of emotion and did not feel even the slightest inclination towards crying.
The day dawned when we were to present our pieces, and I was still confident that I would be able to do mine without really having to invest in it emotionally. Everything was fine right up until I had cleared my stage and turned to look at my audience. I realized in that moment that I was exposing a part of my soul that I had not really showed them before, and... these people were not ones that I trusted on any particular level. In fact, for the most part I had gotten along very well drifting at the edges of their awareness and suddenly I was putting myself, and my personal demons, front and center. The ensuing performance was more emotional than I can ever truly explain. Pain, anger, fear, and a myriad of emotions all came to a boiling point together, and I let slip more of myself than I think I have ever shown to anyone in a five minute period.
It taught me something, though. Though these people were strangers, I was able to share my soul with them because that is what I want to do with my theatre. I want people to see that there is a beauty that exists beyond the mortal facade, and I want them to know that truth exists in pain just as it exists in joy. Oddly, now that I have been so frank with them, I've noticed that my life, my perceptions of the world and the people in it, are changing.
Today... I had a genuinely strange dream. For one reason I was at the mall with one of the girls from my Directing II class (one I've known since my first semester here but have never been close to). She wanted to stop in a shop with someone else that was there with us, and I told them I was just going to window shop a little further down the way. Well, I noticed a beautiful costume shop and decided to go in--I did not intend to be more than a moment or two. Once inside I explored a little, and suddenly this guy told me I had no right to be in the store. That beasts were not allowed near such fine things. Long story short, I got chased out of the store. But the people did not stop there. The next thing I knew I was surrounded by people telling me that I had no right to live and that monsters should be killed... I tried to tell them that I was a human being just like them, but they would not listen. One of them hit me, and soon I was on the ground just... sobbing my little heart out. And then the strangest thing happened. Suddenly my classmate broke through the circle and told the people around me that they were the monsters.
At first I was just... disturbed by this dream. Usually when I go out to defend myself people are either stunned that I am capable of intelligent thought or are absolutely frightened of me, but it did not work... And then I realized something more miraculous: I was able to accept the help that someone offered me. It might have just been a dream, certainly, but I believe it is more than that.
I think, for the first time in my life, I am at a point where I do not have to always defend myself. I can step back and let other people fight the real monsters in my world and not feel upset about it. This is such a weird place that I simply do not know how to handle it, but I think it's a good thing.
And to all of you who have wanted to stand up for me... Thanks. And to those who have stood up for me? You mean more than I have ever bothered to say. Thank you. Hopefully I can become someone worthy of your help and friendship.
Monday, January 4, 2010
To The Past
I feel tangled
When you look at me
Like my skin and my heart are
Trying to get away from me
I hate it
You have no place in my life,
No corner of my heart or
Window in my soul
To creep inside of
Just go away
The past is passed
And should stay that way
Why
Why are you trying to break my heart?
When you look at me
Like my skin and my heart are
Trying to get away from me
I hate it
You have no place in my life,
No corner of my heart or
Window in my soul
To creep inside of
Just go away
The past is passed
And should stay that way
Why
Why are you trying to break my heart?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)