Punctuated Thus.

I made a very bold statement today. It went something like, “I am truly myself here” and just as soon as the words fell so effortlessly from my lips I started to weigh the gravity of the sentence. What does it mean to be truly one’s self? What does it feel like to know, entirely, who you are? Is knowing who you are meaning that you feel comfortable with the unknowns of your life and of your personality or is knowing being entirely sure? Do I know when I am truly myself or is that a case made by those around me?

As these questions swirled in my conscience, I started to think about all of the other times I’ve said that phrase. Each time was in a different scenario, in a different time of my life, in a different place entirely and I was almost entirely different every single time but each time I said, with certainty mind you, that I was myself.

I think that admitting that you are truly yourself at certain points in your life is a way to tabulate the portions of yourself that you have become comfortable with and have enough confidence to admit that you appreciate about who you are. Each of the times I said I was myself came as a marked decision that I was comfortable in the skin I was wearing at that moment. This year alone, I’ve said that loaded statement four times. The first time was at the beginning of the school year as I became friends with the CCM girls. That time, I was myself, the artist. The next time was when I became very close to two friends and considered them my best friends. That time, I was myself, feeling, emotional, dramatic. The third time, I was changing my major and accepting the fact that I care too much and am too weak to ever make it in the world of theater or stage management. That time, I was myself, the empathetic and unsure. This time, I am being goofy and five and not trying to hide any of my oddities to please people who are older than me. I am myself, the responsible child.

So each time we make the claim that we are entirely ourselves, we should consider ourselves self confident, if only for even that moment. Because for one small sentence, we are saying that we are proud to be living the life we are, exactly how we are. We human beings change, along with most other things in this world, and therefore the proclamation is saying that in this moment, this me is who I want to be and I am beautiful for it.

I can say the afore said because of the people I have met here at CLOC and how wonderful the entire company has been to work with. There is no reason I feel as though I need to be anyone other than who I am at this very point in my life. That is the greatest gift I can ask for from any group of people and artists.

Accustomed to My Face.

There is something about playing the role of Eliza Doolittle that makes men fall in love with you. Professor Higgins even warns the audience at the beginning of My Fair Lady by saying "by the time I'm finished with you, there will be men falling for you in droves." Little did he know, he would be one of the masses. But is the reason the male sex flips for the actresses who play this character all a by product of Higgins' creation or are there other forces at play with this cockney turned princess?

First and foremost, there is the character Eliza Doolittle herself. A strong-minded low class flower girl, Eliza originally takes speech lessons in order to better herself and her lot in life. But as the lessons continue, Eliza becomes malleable and meek in order to play the role of the Professor's lady. The classic enjenue changing for her leading man in order to illicit his affection. All too soon, however, Eliza realizes that regardless of how much she changes for the Professor, he cannot show her genuine affection. Lady Eliza is now colored by her strong cockney sense of self and independence. There is something very attractive in that transformation from baudy self-assured feminist (in a manner) to a strong-willed by socially attune lady. Overt cries for women's rights and treatment tend to scare men off whereas strong, confident women who believe in a certain moral system are valued by men who are not looking for a Stepford Wife.

Another character plays a vital role in this affinity for Ms. Doolittle because of his stubborn inability to accept his feelings for her. Professor Higgins, modern literature's narcissist, reminds men to treat a woman that matters to you like she matters to you. The male sex can sympathize with Higgins' inability to express emotions and yet feels a desire to protect Eliza from a man who is hurting her. Men wants women who love them and try to do things that please them but they also want women who are sure in themselves...or at least that's what I've observed...

That all explains why I believe men fall in love with the role of Eliza but what I am claiming here is that this affinity goes beyond the character and to the actress playing the part. Acting, to me, involves assuming the plight of your character to some degree. In the case of Eliza, one must be willing to undergo the rollercoaster of emotions toward self-confidence that the audience witnesses on stage every night. The by product of internalizing this transformation often becomes realizing that it is present in one's self. Most little girls want to be princesses and Eliza ends up realizing that she has been a princess all along, a self confident and strongly independent princess.

This analysis fails to address the role money and class play in Eliza's transformation as well as which men are attracted to this type of woman. Someday in a classroom, I'll have my students do a similar investigation but until then, I am missing a very large segment of Guys and Dolls blocking...

Bear Necessities.

Last night, well, this morning if we are acknowledging the passing of days, I finally sat down in my bed and wrote. It was 1am and I had just finished balling my eyes out. I think that part of the reason I cried so desperately was because I had hadn't had the chance to write for over a week while here at CLOC. I had been thinking and allowing my observations and feelings to flood my overtired brain until they finally claimed my sanity and I broke down into tears.

There has to be a million and half reasons why I was balling last night. One of them had to have been how overtired I was. I am running myself into the ground here. I can feel it in my body but most importantly I can feel it in my soul, the little part of me that needs moments of time to herself to type letters or blog entries, to read, to refresh myself. I've been moving at a pace that is so constructive for how I work but so detrimental to me as a human being. I can feel my ability to support all of my actors slipping between my fingers as the hours of work pile up.

Another reason I was crying is because I am so done with stage management because I feel so lonely. I think that that was the indicator during Peter Pan that I should not be in this field. During that production, I felt the weight of what it meant to be ostracized from the group of people you were working with. As CCM and my real world experiences started to build, the gap between me and the companies grew. And now, with all of that behind me and all of this CLOC stuff in front of me, I feel so alone and I cannot imagine doing this for the rest of my life. You have to be in a role of power and a role of respect and yet you need to be reachable by the people you are working with and yet you need to be working hours that doesn’t allow you to foster any social bonds. Here is where stage management fucks you over. I am way too dramatic and way too much of a softy for this theatrical world. I don’t have the fighting spirit that Heidi does. I cannot ever put the needs of a show in front of the needs of my cast members. At the core of my being as a human, I believe that the most important thing is for people to feel loved and respected. I think that theater tends to prize the product whereas teaching certainly prizes the process. I mean, of course, you have all of these schools that need to have acceptable test scores to keep funding and such but if you are a really good teacher you can get those scores through a process that focuses on the child. I know that this is going to be a very hard career choice and I know that I will make no money but I really, honestly, think that this is where I need to be and what I need to be doing. I need to be a teacher because I want to change the lives of children and make them feel this whole person thing. It’s something that isn’t valued when instilled in adults or people my age. That’s why me as a stage manager wouldn’t carry over into the real, professional world. I am built to work with people that I can make feel warm, fuzzy and loved.

Here I toe that line between professional theater and an opportunity for me to make these friends that I can make feel like real people who are loved and cherished for all of their talents. If nothing else, I love them for who they are and what they do and their happiness and well being will always mean more to me than the quality of the show we put on that god damn stage.

Well, dear CLOC and stage management, this writer is not dead yet. Actually, she just needed some material to stock pile and now she will be back full force. Typing in the middle of the night with no restraints, just flying fingers with absolutely no purpose but to empty this giant pit of emotions that is my brain and conscience.

Where Would That Get Me?

"We go days without having a meaningful conversation, and I used to miss you so much when that happened...but it never seemed like you missed me. And I guess, because of it, I stopped missing you"

Okay. This is getting ridiculous. I've been sitting here for a good hour attempting to write this blog entry. I've been burning through metaphors like trees in a California Forest Fire. I even found an old Xanga entry from a friend of mine and tried to tie that, subtly, to what I am feeling right now. But, alas, the attempts to bull shit everything I am feeling are falling short. I think that that marks some serious progress in my development as a human being or, perhaps, it marks a loss of creative steam. Which ever case it may be, I need to write this and I need to write it like Boom, Boom, Pow.

I am coming back to things on my own terms. First of all, stage management. Here I am at CLOC, stage managing 9 productions in a summer with literally no time off. And yet, I am enjoying myself because I am no longer hanging my hat on this career choice. This summer is about making friends, having fun, doing shows and being myself. It's about defining who I am in the theater world aside from CCM and PC and all of my experience up to this point. It is the divorce agreement between me and stage management. This is what you get, this is what I get and that is that.

And then there is the friendship thing. It's weighing on me in a way that I hoped that it wouldn't. I don't feel like I need to change for anyone ever again and if I start to do that, I will not be a happy camper. But, by the same token, I feel so inclined to write things to people and tell them why I can't handle them or why I want them back in my life or on what terms. My issue with that is that I am the one trying again and is it really worth it if they are unwilling to accept that they've hurt me. I have really true, wonderful friends and I don't want to under appreciate them in an attempt to get through to those people who, to some degree, do not deserve my attention or love.

What is worth saving? What is worth returning to with a fresh prospective? Will you listen to what I have to say? Why do I still care? Do I still care?

All of these unanswered questions will have to remain while I spend the rest of my day finishing The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan.

Overdramatize it.

"I could write and write. All it takes is a motion of the hand in response to a brain impulse, trained from childhood to record in our own American brand hieroglyphics the translations of external stimuli. How much of my brain is willfully my own?"

- Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals

I am almost frightened by how much I am seeing my writing reflected in the free-writes of a woman who shoved her head into an oven at the age of thirty to commit suicide. She was born in Massachusetts and would be Mimi's age if she were alive today. The first section of journal entries in the book are from Plath's early college years and the things she writes about are so appropo of exactly everything I am feeling at this point in my life. She is so real and so tangible. But at the same time, she is so frightening because I see this girl who is teetering on the edge of living to live and living to write about it.

I recognize that precipice so readily because I know that to be exactly where I am standing. Writing has always been my escape, my outlet, my own entangled world of words and metaphors and untold stories. And now I've started to live there. It's the vacation that is lasting far too long.

It's days like this when I feel the pull to overstay my welcome in my solitude and literature that I most desperately need people. It gets hard to wrench yourself away and accept the world. I consider writing, in its purest form, to be nothing but an aspect of depression: a need to be away from everything and everyone except for your own twisted mind.

I praise God for my writing moments and when I get the inspiration to embrace the depression/feelings but I also praise Him for blessing me with people who have the place in their hearts and minds to know when I need them to rescue me. Tonight alone: I had Caitlin to talk to about boys. I had Taylor to dance with, fall on the floor with and hug. I had Jordan smile at me when I needed it most. I had Ellie (Brisket) to make silly faces at me. I had Nick playing his amazing music that brightens my day every time I get the chance to hear it. I had Serenity to go get dinner with. I had Alex to walk to Jimmy John's with. And now I have Dana to fall asleep in the same room as.

I have all of these reasons, these beautiful people, why I will never become Sylvia Plath. I am far too in love with these human relationships and the way they influence me as a person and as a writer.

Creative Maximus.

Charge on, young, semi-confident writer and see what deep depths you can avoid today while banging on your keys in your Sad Café.

Yesterday in both Fundamental’s of Directing classes, Burnham addressed the idea of a window. It’s kind of this beautiful metaphor for something that I feel like I understand but can’t believe I have a full grasp on. It’s alluding me just that little bit. The world looks like the world you are looking through the window you are looking out of. So we have two realities here: the world, reality, and the reality that your schemata and way of looking at the world have created. Your window is like your personal pair of rose colored glasses through which you can see the world, tinted in a manner that makes it more appealing to you. Things that are important to your mental model stick out and are over dramatized in comparison to the things that are of less importance to you, personally. The beauty of the window metaphor is that it highlights the fact that you can see your reflection in a window. There is nothing that prevents you from taking a moment to examine yourself in that window rather than what you see through it. That’s the beauty of introspection. Some windows are too fascinating to look out of and don’t allow time for one to see how they are perceiving things. Other windows, however, are tailored specifically to showing us who we are in relation to why we do what we do and how that influences our current state of being. For example, the window of relationships in my life is reflective; all I see are the mistakes I am making because of my parents. Each window represents another portion of your schemata: relationships, stress, schoolwork, morals, eating habits, etc. Each one of those is a very important part of your hardwired mental mapping and that individual pattern of yours can be either very apparent to you or very obscured from you.

Another point that Burnham brought up with this was that once you see your own reflection and realize who you are becoming or what you embodying, that you get the rebellion right. I guess that point is one that is more specific to the event that took place or the reflection that you saw. The idea that you can rebel in the right way connects to the reading from last night about the creative maxims. We need to use everything that’s been given to us. If we look in the mirror and we see a crazy mother, we need to find a way to make that crazy mother into a creative thought that can inspire a great work of art. It’s using our windows and the views we see through them and in them to create more things and become deeper, more inspirational artists.

To Succeed.

I've spent a lot of this past week working through free-writing and paying attention to that creative artist within me. It's been extremely healthy for me to sit down every night and bang out one page, singled spaced diatribes about my day. I've also been reading a lot this week, most importantly a book on the art of writing called Thunder and Lightning by Natalie Goldberg. This book has really helped me understand myself as a writer and accept the fact that writing doesn't need to be brilliant or profound, it just needs to be honest, from the heart and accessible. One of the many writing exercises Goldberg speaks of in her book is sitting down to reread your old free writes and then spending another page writing down what you felt like were the points you harped upon in your free streams of consciousness.

That was the hardest for me because I had to introspectively analyze myself and my thoughts. A little part of me wished that I could have just deleted that giant word document and moved on, but alas, what would we be if we didn't change and grow from inward reflection?

One of the points I found myself focusing on was less of a point and more of a collection of mini vignettes of the most beautiful human beings in my life. I've always had a hard time letting people know how much they mean to me. I feel like they could never be aware of what an impact their being in my life has had on the course of it all and who I am as a human being. And I want them to. I want them to feel a hundred times better about themselves because they've touched someone's life in such a beautiful way that it should be announced. So I write. I spend my nights free writing pages upon pages about you all. Sometimes I am even able to share them with you, so that you can see how much you mean to me, how much you've served to mold me into a better person.

I hope that, as time passes, I am able to share my writings with you and tell you just how much you mean to me. If you feel the same way as I do, with those essential people in your life, I encourage you to remind them how much they mean to you in whatever manner you see fit. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson, "To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children...to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

Let someone know that they have succeeded.