Step on a Stone
Whoo. This place is a bit dusty.
Without looking, I don't know when I last updated. And I haven't been keeping much of anyone up-to-date on the events of the life that is mine, so I figure there won't be a much better time to pause than now.
Myql said I should make a shibbity shibbity shwa shirt.
I started off this semester very frustrated with school and eager to drop out of college, but decided to stay with it a little longer in case it was just a tempest that passed. I've gotten to like tempests these days, so how true to myself I was being with that decision I don't know, but here I am and that particular storm has passed. I had a week and a half of RA training whose claustrophobia set me writing sort of a manifesto for myself. It was pretty useful . . . sent me a few missions, anyway. The semester has been exhausting, partly because I've been doing a million things but also largely because they weren't focused on any common goal.
I've been working at the means. I kept training hard at the beginning of the semester, but things began to go wrong with my body; I was tense and pushing myself too hard and it's given me a lot of joint and muscle problems since. I can still touch my foot to the back of my head, though. I also put a lot of stress on my voice, singing bass in my a capella group, higher in my private lessons, and loudly in Fuente Ovejuna, the play I was in at Tulane this semester. I thought I had nodes and went on vocal rest for much of the semester, basically not talking for several weeks except during rehearsals. Turns out it was acid reflux. I also had my hardest class yet, Theatre History III, which required a huge amount of time. On top of that, I was dealing with a lot of weird feedback from my body, which, perhaps as a result of all the training and stuff, is finally coming to life; I get hungry now, for example, which hasn't happened much in the past five years. Probably a good thing in the end, but kind of weird as far as a sense of identity goes. The semester was troubling for everyone at Tulane, it seems; most everyone I knew was in a crisis about something or other (more so than usual). I was about at my breaking point by mid-semester. Until now I haven't really believed in breaking points, but the amount of physical pain I was in at the time was alone enough to convince me. I would leave rehearsal with the kind of pain in my back that made me fear I wouldn't be able to walk the next morning. There was such an aura of tension that even my bike broke.
Even now I can feel my tendency to glorify my own suffering as a kind of justification. However, even if some of the instinct is still there, the conclusion I have come to is to screw that. Being constantly unhappy for the sake of any end, concrete or abstract, is not only not worth it, it's a stupid way to get things done.
That decision alone made a huge difference. I've done things that were downright rebellious by my previous standards. I turned in assignments late because sleep got a higher priority and felt fine about it because I was taking care of my health. I basically rewrote part of my distinction paper and turned it in as new work, but felt fine about it because while there was no new research, I came to new conclusions. That kind of thing. It feels like I'm finally learning the real lesson of college: how to not only manage time, but use that ability to turn a system to my advantage. I ended up deciding not to drop out of school, but to try to graduate early, and the real improvement is that I'm looking forward to everything I'm doing next semester, all twenty-three hours of it:
Voice II (speaking)
Private Voice (singing)
Cello (trying something new)
Shakespeare's Verse
Dialectology
Intro to Producing
Theatre Practicum
Intermediate Acting (interestingly the first acting class I've taken at Tulane)
Production and Design II
I blame it partly on the structure of the education system, the constant sense of preparing for the next thing rather than doing a thing for its own sake. Oddly, now that that's past, the question I keep asking myself is, why am I putting my time into becoming good at theatre and writing and music and languages and all these various means of communication? And I really don't know. I have ideas-- I mean, I want to make life better for people and all, but that's sort of sweeping and vague and trite, and overall just hard to follow through on.
I'm working on not lying so much. I've lied constantly for most of my life; because I always felt like I should know everything, whenever someone told me something new I'd pretend I knew it already. I got pretty good at it and proud of it. I'd make excuses for my failings rather than fixing them, inventing stories for why I was late or didn't know my lines or someone's name. And that thing they say about alcoholism, how admitting the problem is the first step to solving it, that's really true. I still lie without noticing, but I realize it within seconds instead of hours now. I've yet to be so brave as to go back and suddenly contradict myself, but maybe that moment will come. There's another goal: doing things as they come up.
By telling the truth I get to know my own goals better, and alongside that, by getting in touch with the rest of the world, I learn what needs doing. I'm reading tons of plays lately, listening rather than zoning out when politics comes up, forming opinions and expressing them, saying "I don't know" and asking for more information, basing my work on research . . . all that stuff. Makes me realize how behind and uncultured I am. My list of issues to get familiar with, things to read, things to see, places to go is lengthening every moment. And that's just to get informed so I can take action a little less blindly.
What I think I want to do is establish a strong theatre in the south. There isn't the fuel for it; no one is very eager to back it, there are few good actors with the kind of training I think is important, the plays have not to my knowledge been written, and the audience is virtually nonexistent. But that state of poverty may just be perfect for the complete renovation of the art. And why this? Because I feel a wavering kind of faith to my home and want to see it apply the virtues it has without bigotry and I think theatre is one of the most powerful ways of spreading knowledge. And I like it. The south is full of racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, militarism and the effects of reinforced ignorance, but so many of the people here are kind, open-hearted, and every now and then willing to learn. And all of that goes abandoned while the north is full of stale American theatre that will be a lot harder to change. And how to do this? Learn all I can from the many parts of the world, teach what I know, meet everyone who has similar goals, and make new and relevant work constantly. Make a theatre for the people that addresses their problems in their language, but using the tools that only the theatre has. Or, hell, do it in writing, in film, in music, in any and all media, using the strengths of each. I'm sort of a deviant, and I say that without excess pride or shame, so it's odd for me to be the voice of society, but I just need to watch and listen more.
I wrote a paper for Theatre History III about a Russian director named Yevgeny Vakhtangov who had a similar mission, albeit in a different world where the theatre was already strong if stale; researching his methods has given me sort of a sense of direction. I've never looked up to anyone, but I think I would if I met him. Speaking theoretically, since he's dead and all.
I can sing a lot better than I used to. And numerous other things. As a writer I think I'm in an awkward transition phase. I'm working on rewrites for the play I started at NTI, "Than Face the World, or, Winter: An Apocalyptic Buddy Play," which I'll hopefully direct during my last semester at Tulane, and I can see all kinds of problems without knowing quite how to solve them . . . kind of frustrating, but an okay place to be. The spell checker doesn't recognize "okay" as a word. Fool. You have no idea how many words I've added to my computer's dictionary this semester. Anyway, the play speaks about my issues with my generation in ways that it didn't before, so that's something.
Anyway, I've gone on plenty long enough . . . there's a lot more details, but that's the gist of what's been going on with me. Right now I'm working on writing this play, getting my hands on a cello and learning as much as I can before school starts, catching up with people, reading tons of plays, finding and preparing something for StFrTrTh to do this summer should that happen, and memorizing a Japanese dance for the summer. Miles a minute! If I write more here, I'll go into specifics on particular issues, one at a time. And feel free to ask.
Without looking, I don't know when I last updated. And I haven't been keeping much of anyone up-to-date on the events of the life that is mine, so I figure there won't be a much better time to pause than now.
Myql said I should make a shibbity shibbity shwa shirt.
I started off this semester very frustrated with school and eager to drop out of college, but decided to stay with it a little longer in case it was just a tempest that passed. I've gotten to like tempests these days, so how true to myself I was being with that decision I don't know, but here I am and that particular storm has passed. I had a week and a half of RA training whose claustrophobia set me writing sort of a manifesto for myself. It was pretty useful . . . sent me a few missions, anyway. The semester has been exhausting, partly because I've been doing a million things but also largely because they weren't focused on any common goal.
I've been working at the means. I kept training hard at the beginning of the semester, but things began to go wrong with my body; I was tense and pushing myself too hard and it's given me a lot of joint and muscle problems since. I can still touch my foot to the back of my head, though. I also put a lot of stress on my voice, singing bass in my a capella group, higher in my private lessons, and loudly in Fuente Ovejuna, the play I was in at Tulane this semester. I thought I had nodes and went on vocal rest for much of the semester, basically not talking for several weeks except during rehearsals. Turns out it was acid reflux. I also had my hardest class yet, Theatre History III, which required a huge amount of time. On top of that, I was dealing with a lot of weird feedback from my body, which, perhaps as a result of all the training and stuff, is finally coming to life; I get hungry now, for example, which hasn't happened much in the past five years. Probably a good thing in the end, but kind of weird as far as a sense of identity goes. The semester was troubling for everyone at Tulane, it seems; most everyone I knew was in a crisis about something or other (more so than usual). I was about at my breaking point by mid-semester. Until now I haven't really believed in breaking points, but the amount of physical pain I was in at the time was alone enough to convince me. I would leave rehearsal with the kind of pain in my back that made me fear I wouldn't be able to walk the next morning. There was such an aura of tension that even my bike broke.
Even now I can feel my tendency to glorify my own suffering as a kind of justification. However, even if some of the instinct is still there, the conclusion I have come to is to screw that. Being constantly unhappy for the sake of any end, concrete or abstract, is not only not worth it, it's a stupid way to get things done.
That decision alone made a huge difference. I've done things that were downright rebellious by my previous standards. I turned in assignments late because sleep got a higher priority and felt fine about it because I was taking care of my health. I basically rewrote part of my distinction paper and turned it in as new work, but felt fine about it because while there was no new research, I came to new conclusions. That kind of thing. It feels like I'm finally learning the real lesson of college: how to not only manage time, but use that ability to turn a system to my advantage. I ended up deciding not to drop out of school, but to try to graduate early, and the real improvement is that I'm looking forward to everything I'm doing next semester, all twenty-three hours of it:
Voice II (speaking)
Private Voice (singing)
Cello (trying something new)
Shakespeare's Verse
Dialectology
Intro to Producing
Theatre Practicum
Intermediate Acting (interestingly the first acting class I've taken at Tulane)
Production and Design II
I blame it partly on the structure of the education system, the constant sense of preparing for the next thing rather than doing a thing for its own sake. Oddly, now that that's past, the question I keep asking myself is, why am I putting my time into becoming good at theatre and writing and music and languages and all these various means of communication? And I really don't know. I have ideas-- I mean, I want to make life better for people and all, but that's sort of sweeping and vague and trite, and overall just hard to follow through on.
I'm working on not lying so much. I've lied constantly for most of my life; because I always felt like I should know everything, whenever someone told me something new I'd pretend I knew it already. I got pretty good at it and proud of it. I'd make excuses for my failings rather than fixing them, inventing stories for why I was late or didn't know my lines or someone's name. And that thing they say about alcoholism, how admitting the problem is the first step to solving it, that's really true. I still lie without noticing, but I realize it within seconds instead of hours now. I've yet to be so brave as to go back and suddenly contradict myself, but maybe that moment will come. There's another goal: doing things as they come up.
By telling the truth I get to know my own goals better, and alongside that, by getting in touch with the rest of the world, I learn what needs doing. I'm reading tons of plays lately, listening rather than zoning out when politics comes up, forming opinions and expressing them, saying "I don't know" and asking for more information, basing my work on research . . . all that stuff. Makes me realize how behind and uncultured I am. My list of issues to get familiar with, things to read, things to see, places to go is lengthening every moment. And that's just to get informed so I can take action a little less blindly.
What I think I want to do is establish a strong theatre in the south. There isn't the fuel for it; no one is very eager to back it, there are few good actors with the kind of training I think is important, the plays have not to my knowledge been written, and the audience is virtually nonexistent. But that state of poverty may just be perfect for the complete renovation of the art. And why this? Because I feel a wavering kind of faith to my home and want to see it apply the virtues it has without bigotry and I think theatre is one of the most powerful ways of spreading knowledge. And I like it. The south is full of racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, militarism and the effects of reinforced ignorance, but so many of the people here are kind, open-hearted, and every now and then willing to learn. And all of that goes abandoned while the north is full of stale American theatre that will be a lot harder to change. And how to do this? Learn all I can from the many parts of the world, teach what I know, meet everyone who has similar goals, and make new and relevant work constantly. Make a theatre for the people that addresses their problems in their language, but using the tools that only the theatre has. Or, hell, do it in writing, in film, in music, in any and all media, using the strengths of each. I'm sort of a deviant, and I say that without excess pride or shame, so it's odd for me to be the voice of society, but I just need to watch and listen more.
I wrote a paper for Theatre History III about a Russian director named Yevgeny Vakhtangov who had a similar mission, albeit in a different world where the theatre was already strong if stale; researching his methods has given me sort of a sense of direction. I've never looked up to anyone, but I think I would if I met him. Speaking theoretically, since he's dead and all.
I can sing a lot better than I used to. And numerous other things. As a writer I think I'm in an awkward transition phase. I'm working on rewrites for the play I started at NTI, "Than Face the World, or, Winter: An Apocalyptic Buddy Play," which I'll hopefully direct during my last semester at Tulane, and I can see all kinds of problems without knowing quite how to solve them . . . kind of frustrating, but an okay place to be. The spell checker doesn't recognize "okay" as a word. Fool. You have no idea how many words I've added to my computer's dictionary this semester. Anyway, the play speaks about my issues with my generation in ways that it didn't before, so that's something.
Anyway, I've gone on plenty long enough . . . there's a lot more details, but that's the gist of what's been going on with me. Right now I'm working on writing this play, getting my hands on a cello and learning as much as I can before school starts, catching up with people, reading tons of plays, finding and preparing something for StFrTrTh to do this summer should that happen, and memorizing a Japanese dance for the summer. Miles a minute! If I write more here, I'll go into specifics on particular issues, one at a time. And feel free to ask.