Let's dwell on the positive to get our minds off the "ground zero mosque" controversy. (It's NOT a mosque and it's NOT at ground zero, you idiots! But we're not talking about that right now...)
-I bought all the "Ocean's" movies last night for $10.00. (Those of you who know me know this means I'm skipping two meals this week.)
-Bernadette Peters is going to do "Follies" at the Kennedy Center.
-Once you're no longer a student, the end of summer is not a sad time. It means your TV shows are starting up again.
-I haven't had a Little Caesar's pizza since I moved to California. (This is a big step for me.)
-The place I'm moving into in Washington has a TV on the fridge door. I think. Isn't that cool? I don't think I'll ever use it, but I like to see my rent go to good use like that.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The "ground zero mosque" rant...
I am freaking out about the controversy surrounding this Muslim community center in New York. (Check out http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,2011400,00.html if you don't know what I'm talking about.)
I don't have anything terribly interesting or original to say about it. In fact, I find it ridiculous that this debate is even happening. (Fair warning: anyone who uses the words "victory mosque" will receive a slap in the face from me.)
What's interesting to me is how passionately I feel about this. Maybe it's because it disrupts the romantic notion I've always had that things like Jim Crow laws and Japanese internment camps were behind us. Maybe it's because I belong to a religious group that has known its share of intolerance in a nation that pretends to believe in religious freedom. Maybe it's because I just finished reading "Fahrenheit 451," a book that makes me feel irate about everything. (Footnote: I dreamed last night that I was being chased by the cops for having a book of Calvin and Hobbes comics. Some people from church in a minivan reported me.) I've been getting increasingly restless over the last few days. Good thing I have a big dramatic move to look forward to or I might do something really outrageous. Like dye my hair blue or eat a whole pizza.
I've decided this sporadic shallow activism has to stop. From now on, apathy about everything. Just kidding. I'm going to become better informed, develop strong opinions about things, and rant about them on this blog. How does that sound?
I don't have anything terribly interesting or original to say about it. In fact, I find it ridiculous that this debate is even happening. (Fair warning: anyone who uses the words "victory mosque" will receive a slap in the face from me.)
What's interesting to me is how passionately I feel about this. Maybe it's because it disrupts the romantic notion I've always had that things like Jim Crow laws and Japanese internment camps were behind us. Maybe it's because I belong to a religious group that has known its share of intolerance in a nation that pretends to believe in religious freedom. Maybe it's because I just finished reading "Fahrenheit 451," a book that makes me feel irate about everything. (Footnote: I dreamed last night that I was being chased by the cops for having a book of Calvin and Hobbes comics. Some people from church in a minivan reported me.) I've been getting increasingly restless over the last few days. Good thing I have a big dramatic move to look forward to or I might do something really outrageous. Like dye my hair blue or eat a whole pizza.
I've decided this sporadic shallow activism has to stop. From now on, apathy about everything. Just kidding. I'm going to become better informed, develop strong opinions about things, and rant about them on this blog. How does that sound?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
May I return to the beginning...
One fateful Saturday, Pat and Lisa Greene told their six-year-old son Matthew they were going to see a play. I liked the word "play" so I went along with the idea of being quiet and still in a strange place. It was "Rumplestiltskin" and I was called up on stage when they asked for a volunteer from the audience. And so it began.
We went back to that little theatre several times and I started doing shows at another community theatre (playing illustrious roles like Stewart Little in..."Stewart Little"). In 1998 Lola Agulair, a family friend, took me and her daughter Alex to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" at the Sacramento Music Circus. I'd heard about the Music Circus from a number of people, most notably my short-tempered director from numerous productions. The consensus was that I HAD to see a show there. Music Circus WAS (and really still IS) Sacramento theatre.
And so we went. It starred Eric Kunze and Mary Gordon Murray (who had a voice the likes of which I had never heard before)and I was AMAZED. Awed by the talent, delighted by the songs, boyishly in love with Potiphar's wife. If I didn't know it by then, this production clinched it: this was my future.
Fast forward. Double my age. And "Joseph" is back at the Music Circus. I have a degree in theatre and a somewhat impressive (for a 24-year-old recent graduate) resume. I have performed in "Joseph" and many other shows. I have a nametag (three, actually) from Music Circus. I'm on the cast list for two of their shows this summer and listed as an "Artistic Assistant" in all the programs. And I'm back at the same theatre seeing it again.
I know this show backwards and forwards but there are still some surprises. Richard Stafford's direction is whimsical and inventive and Maz Von Essen's "Close Every Door" blows Donny Osmond out of the water and is surprisingly stirring, even to someone like me who things the song is shallow and completely out of place in the show.
Still, my love affair with "Joseph" died out a long time ago. I think it's overdone, indulgent, repetitive, etc. Any "theatre person" has heard the critiques before and anybody else doesn't care. I couldn't help but wonder as I sat there, though, what happened to that bright-eyed kid who thought any professional production was flawless, any professional actor was a demigod or -goddess, and any show with upbeat pop-inspired music was a masterpiece worthy of repeated cast recording listening sessions.
I'm way smarter than I was when I was twelve. I've traveled the world, graduated twice, fallen in love, fallen out, read countless books, seen more theatre than fifty average people combined, and left things like "Joseph" (and "Phantom" and "Peter Pan" and, yes, "Rumplestiltskin") behind me. Way smarter. But happier?
Have I lost something, now that I can't sit transfixed by a sparkly musical? Analytical tendencies and overly-critical attitudes aside, I have to admit that some of the magic is gone. Now it's about creating that magic for others, others who will buy tickets and put food on my table. But to what end? Until they get smart enough not to be fooled anymore?
Not to say I don't love going to the theatre anymore. I'm going tonight. But as the overture began, the house lights went down and the gasp and hush fell over the crowd, I definitely envied the hushers and gaspers their heady anticipation. Half my life ago, I felt the same way, in the same place, with the same show. Now it takes more than colorful costumes and belted power ballads to get my heart racing.
Growing up, huh?
We went back to that little theatre several times and I started doing shows at another community theatre (playing illustrious roles like Stewart Little in..."Stewart Little"). In 1998 Lola Agulair, a family friend, took me and her daughter Alex to see "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" at the Sacramento Music Circus. I'd heard about the Music Circus from a number of people, most notably my short-tempered director from numerous productions. The consensus was that I HAD to see a show there. Music Circus WAS (and really still IS) Sacramento theatre.
And so we went. It starred Eric Kunze and Mary Gordon Murray (who had a voice the likes of which I had never heard before)and I was AMAZED. Awed by the talent, delighted by the songs, boyishly in love with Potiphar's wife. If I didn't know it by then, this production clinched it: this was my future.
Fast forward. Double my age. And "Joseph" is back at the Music Circus. I have a degree in theatre and a somewhat impressive (for a 24-year-old recent graduate) resume. I have performed in "Joseph" and many other shows. I have a nametag (three, actually) from Music Circus. I'm on the cast list for two of their shows this summer and listed as an "Artistic Assistant" in all the programs. And I'm back at the same theatre seeing it again.
I know this show backwards and forwards but there are still some surprises. Richard Stafford's direction is whimsical and inventive and Maz Von Essen's "Close Every Door" blows Donny Osmond out of the water and is surprisingly stirring, even to someone like me who things the song is shallow and completely out of place in the show.
Still, my love affair with "Joseph" died out a long time ago. I think it's overdone, indulgent, repetitive, etc. Any "theatre person" has heard the critiques before and anybody else doesn't care. I couldn't help but wonder as I sat there, though, what happened to that bright-eyed kid who thought any professional production was flawless, any professional actor was a demigod or -goddess, and any show with upbeat pop-inspired music was a masterpiece worthy of repeated cast recording listening sessions.
I'm way smarter than I was when I was twelve. I've traveled the world, graduated twice, fallen in love, fallen out, read countless books, seen more theatre than fifty average people combined, and left things like "Joseph" (and "Phantom" and "Peter Pan" and, yes, "Rumplestiltskin") behind me. Way smarter. But happier?
Have I lost something, now that I can't sit transfixed by a sparkly musical? Analytical tendencies and overly-critical attitudes aside, I have to admit that some of the magic is gone. Now it's about creating that magic for others, others who will buy tickets and put food on my table. But to what end? Until they get smart enough not to be fooled anymore?
Not to say I don't love going to the theatre anymore. I'm going tonight. But as the overture began, the house lights went down and the gasp and hush fell over the crowd, I definitely envied the hushers and gaspers their heady anticipation. Half my life ago, I felt the same way, in the same place, with the same show. Now it takes more than colorful costumes and belted power ballads to get my heart racing.
Growing up, huh?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
How can you read this? There's no pictures.
This blog is GRAY. How BORING. Here are three pictures. (Or eight, sort of. The combo image really spoke to me.) I keep meaning to use more pictures on here so this is my way of making up for it.
Status
Things are very rarely new. They're improved (VHS --> DVD --> BluRay, which I am NOT on board with, by the way), they're reinvented (the New Beatle, for example), or they're just regurgitated ("Shrek," --> "Shrek" sequels --> "Shrek" the musical --> and on and on). BUT I think there is something my generation has come up with all on their very own. Now, before we start getting excited or proud of our clever selves, wait to see where this is going...The Facebook status.
What is the "good ol' days" equivalent of a Facebook status? I submit there was none. What exactly the Facebook status has done for us? I cannot say. But it's ours and we use it...if not well then at least thoroughly. Here are some currently showing up on my page. (Names have been eliminated to protect privacy.)
----- what the hell is going on tonight PEOPLE!!!!
This alarms me. I assume this guy is just excited for his Thursday night and wants to see what festivities his friends have prepared for him. But, really? Four exclamation points? And let's think for a minute about the use of uppercase vs. lowercase letters. I really hope someone hangs out with him; it might be dangerous not to.
----- anyone want to go to a pub and learn about Narwhals with me next Tues at 7?
Wow. Huh. Okay. Congratulations, your life is more interesting than mine.
----- the vinegar is bitter.
Sometimes ambiguity is a great way to get attention. You'll find yourself alone at home on a Friday night posting something like "and there it goes" or "but it really was a giant panther" to make people wonder what's going on and, thus, remember you exist.
----- Needs to pack....!
What really puzzles me is the punctuation here. I have personally used "...?" many times, but "....!" was a mystery to me. The elipses seem to negate the exclamation point. After much consideration I decided it denotes someone falling off a cliff, their voice trailing off, followed by a crash/thud/splat at the bottom. In which case, I don't think this girl will be packing anything any time soon.
----- 29 days til my birthday!!
You just want to cry for these people.
(By the way, mine is in ten. Days. My birthday.)
What is the "good ol' days" equivalent of a Facebook status? I submit there was none. What exactly the Facebook status has done for us? I cannot say. But it's ours and we use it...if not well then at least thoroughly. Here are some currently showing up on my page. (Names have been eliminated to protect privacy.)
----- what the hell is going on tonight PEOPLE!!!!
This alarms me. I assume this guy is just excited for his Thursday night and wants to see what festivities his friends have prepared for him. But, really? Four exclamation points? And let's think for a minute about the use of uppercase vs. lowercase letters. I really hope someone hangs out with him; it might be dangerous not to.
----- anyone want to go to a pub and learn about Narwhals with me next Tues at 7?
Wow. Huh. Okay. Congratulations, your life is more interesting than mine.
----- the vinegar is bitter.
Sometimes ambiguity is a great way to get attention. You'll find yourself alone at home on a Friday night posting something like "and there it goes" or "but it really was a giant panther" to make people wonder what's going on and, thus, remember you exist.
----- Needs to pack....!
What really puzzles me is the punctuation here. I have personally used "...?" many times, but "....!" was a mystery to me. The elipses seem to negate the exclamation point. After much consideration I decided it denotes someone falling off a cliff, their voice trailing off, followed by a crash/thud/splat at the bottom. In which case, I don't think this girl will be packing anything any time soon.
----- 29 days til my birthday!!
You just want to cry for these people.
(By the way, mine is in ten. Days. My birthday.)
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
The story of "A"
As the dense fog of night abated, Natalie awoke to find that someone had absconded with her stamp collection. Though she typically abstained from alcohol, Natalie had made an exception the night before. Perhaps it was the surreal hovering mist, perhaps the veritable abyss of heartbreak and self-pity she seemed to be falling into. Dominic, her only companion for the evening, had laughed as she adulterated her vodka with water, assuming the role of advocate for moral irresponsibility.
Dominick, of course, was the most plausible suspect, he having been fascinated with the aesthetic of vintage American stamps since the fateful night she shared her obsession with him. The collection aggrandized her in his eyes and he had come by more frequently ever since. But Dominick was no thief and he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table after the previous night's binging had done nothing to alleviate his headache.
Precious stamp collections and wild drinking binges were a dangerous amalgamation but there was nothing ambiguous about what had happened between Natalie and her loyal downstairs neighbor. Maybe finding the stamps would ameliorate what was destined to be a painful morning anyway, the morning she would have to break her neighbor's heart.
His Chuck Taylors were charmingly anachronistic in her sleek modern kitchen and for a moment she considered letting him sleep. Waking him now seemed analogous to a stewardess rousing a slumbering passenger only to let him know there was turbulence ahead. Maybe last night was just an anomaly and he hadn't meant what he said; maybe the turbulence was past.
Deciding she wasn't ready to antagonize the only man who was yet to let her down, she resumed her search. Maybe it had been Esther, Natalie's elderly neighbor whose antipathy for everyone in the building could quite possibly lead her to break and enter and steal a valuable collection. Natalie suspected the doorman for a moment but realized his characteristic apathy would quench any inkling toward criminal activity. No, not the doorman, though she would keep him in mind if anyone needed to arbitrate a dispute between Natalie and Esther.
Dominic looked embarrassed as he woke up, his archaic ideal of chivalry having been broached by his unsolicited sleepover. She remembered the ardor with which Dominic had assured her she deserved much more than her ex-boyfriend could offer her. She remembered how he had searched for words to articulate how he felt about her, how he tried to assuage the shock with nervous smiles and shrugs.
"Good morning." Now it was Natalie's turn to smile nervously to attenuate what she was sure was a fierce hangover and fiercer embarrassment. Then, audatiously, "There's something I have to tell you."
He looked at her with an austerity she had never seen. "Is it about your stamps? Because I threw them out the window when I realized you could never love me."
(This story brought to you by the letter A. Yes, all of the GRE words in my book that start with A. Can you find them all?)
Dominick, of course, was the most plausible suspect, he having been fascinated with the aesthetic of vintage American stamps since the fateful night she shared her obsession with him. The collection aggrandized her in his eyes and he had come by more frequently ever since. But Dominick was no thief and he had fallen asleep at the kitchen table after the previous night's binging had done nothing to alleviate his headache.
Precious stamp collections and wild drinking binges were a dangerous amalgamation but there was nothing ambiguous about what had happened between Natalie and her loyal downstairs neighbor. Maybe finding the stamps would ameliorate what was destined to be a painful morning anyway, the morning she would have to break her neighbor's heart.
His Chuck Taylors were charmingly anachronistic in her sleek modern kitchen and for a moment she considered letting him sleep. Waking him now seemed analogous to a stewardess rousing a slumbering passenger only to let him know there was turbulence ahead. Maybe last night was just an anomaly and he hadn't meant what he said; maybe the turbulence was past.
Deciding she wasn't ready to antagonize the only man who was yet to let her down, she resumed her search. Maybe it had been Esther, Natalie's elderly neighbor whose antipathy for everyone in the building could quite possibly lead her to break and enter and steal a valuable collection. Natalie suspected the doorman for a moment but realized his characteristic apathy would quench any inkling toward criminal activity. No, not the doorman, though she would keep him in mind if anyone needed to arbitrate a dispute between Natalie and Esther.
Dominic looked embarrassed as he woke up, his archaic ideal of chivalry having been broached by his unsolicited sleepover. She remembered the ardor with which Dominic had assured her she deserved much more than her ex-boyfriend could offer her. She remembered how he had searched for words to articulate how he felt about her, how he tried to assuage the shock with nervous smiles and shrugs.
"Good morning." Now it was Natalie's turn to smile nervously to attenuate what she was sure was a fierce hangover and fiercer embarrassment. Then, audatiously, "There's something I have to tell you."
He looked at her with an austerity she had never seen. "Is it about your stamps? Because I threw them out the window when I realized you could never love me."
(This story brought to you by the letter A. Yes, all of the GRE words in my book that start with A. Can you find them all?)
To review...
CAPRICIOUS: changing one's mind quickly and often.
As in...The very fact that Matthew resumed studying GRE words after we all thought he had decided against graduate school demonstrates just how capricious he can be.
Let's get one thing straight: I have NOT decided to go to grad school. I can only say that there is ONE PROGRAM which really appeals to me, a program that requires the GRE for application. (This program would not require any student loans and would actually pay me to be a student so I don't consider it in the same category as the stuff I railed against in my last post.) Obviously, this is different from preparing for and applying to numerous schools, bent on getting accepted to and getting a degree from one program or another. I would be excited to go to this particular program because I think it would be good for me. And if I happen to get an advanced degree in the process, okay.
AMELIORATE: to make better; to improve
As in...Matthew looked forward to his upcoming move to Washington DC, certain that the change would ameliorate his situation.
I know, I know...Circumstances can't make you happy. In my defense, though, I am happy now in spite of some circumstances. It's not that I'm waiting to be happy again. I'm just recognizing that my situation could be better, NEEDS to be better, in fact. Much longer in Sacramento and I'll be stuck spinning my wheels and, consequently, miserable. So, eastward I go!
GREGARIOUS: outgoing, sociable
As in...Matthew, at times, has been known to be quite gregarious, but his social life has deteriorated significantly as of late.
Why does every social gathering available to me sounds so unappealing and painful? You mean I'm going to introduce myself fifty different times to fifty different people and regurgitate personal information they don't care about for an entire evening? You mean we're all going to take our shirts off and jump off a waterfall (honestly, how many opportunities to be emasculated could I possibly squeeze into one afternoon)? Does anyone think I'll give up a house to myself and a refrigerator full of string cheese for any of that? Yikes.
As in...The very fact that Matthew resumed studying GRE words after we all thought he had decided against graduate school demonstrates just how capricious he can be.
Let's get one thing straight: I have NOT decided to go to grad school. I can only say that there is ONE PROGRAM which really appeals to me, a program that requires the GRE for application. (This program would not require any student loans and would actually pay me to be a student so I don't consider it in the same category as the stuff I railed against in my last post.) Obviously, this is different from preparing for and applying to numerous schools, bent on getting accepted to and getting a degree from one program or another. I would be excited to go to this particular program because I think it would be good for me. And if I happen to get an advanced degree in the process, okay.
AMELIORATE: to make better; to improve
As in...Matthew looked forward to his upcoming move to Washington DC, certain that the change would ameliorate his situation.
I know, I know...Circumstances can't make you happy. In my defense, though, I am happy now in spite of some circumstances. It's not that I'm waiting to be happy again. I'm just recognizing that my situation could be better, NEEDS to be better, in fact. Much longer in Sacramento and I'll be stuck spinning my wheels and, consequently, miserable. So, eastward I go!
GREGARIOUS: outgoing, sociable
As in...Matthew, at times, has been known to be quite gregarious, but his social life has deteriorated significantly as of late.
Why does every social gathering available to me sounds so unappealing and painful? You mean I'm going to introduce myself fifty different times to fifty different people and regurgitate personal information they don't care about for an entire evening? You mean we're all going to take our shirts off and jump off a waterfall (honestly, how many opportunities to be emasculated could I possibly squeeze into one afternoon)? Does anyone think I'll give up a house to myself and a refrigerator full of string cheese for any of that? Yikes.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
The straight dope and five reasons I don't want to go to grad school...
I don't blog very much. I have promised many times that I will be better about this but I never seem to follow through. So I'm not making any promises or resolutions or witty remarks about how ironic it is that a writer like me doesn't like to write most of the time. I'll just get on with it.
(I will say this: haveing seventy-five blogs, or however many I have started and abandoned like a blogging baby daddy, is not ideal and I will only be posting here now. Maybe that way I will be able to...Nope, no promises.)
My life is very boring right now. By "right now" I don't mean "these days" or "as of late," though I do feel that way at times. No, I mean literally right now as I'm waiting for it to be 6:00 and, thus, time to go home from work. While we wait, let me share some things with you:
Allegedly, the best way to tell the difference between a muffin and a cupcake (note the subjectivity of the word "best" here) is to throw them aganst a wall and listen for either a "poof" or a "thud." This is for real, it came from the internet. If you're wondering if I'll be trying this while I have my family's house to myself this week, stop wondering.
I tried to play Werewolves with my extended family last week and my Grandpa, gotta love him, was NOT amused. You see, he was a werewolf and when he was prompted by the moderator to choose someone he wanted to kill he promptly closed his eyes and refused to play any more. This game, by the way, is awesome and if I had enough friends in Sacramento I would have people over to play sometime. It is not nearly as nerdy as it sounds but I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you anyway.
Does anyone accept Discover cards?
In the courtyard of the Music Circus there is a fountain. I've observed so many people focused intently on this fountain for long periods of time and have done so myself on more than one occasion. I only wish I could write something that could capture and hold people's attention so easily.
And now, for a list...Why I don't want to go to grad school. Yet, I should say, "Why I don't want to go to grad school YET." (This just in, I can't decide whether the voice I'm hearing at my right is a male or female. I'm turning my head to look...And it's a woman. Mystery solved.) Back to grad school. Or to NOT going to grad school. It seems like my receiving my MFA in something or other is a foregone conclusion: you get your bachelor's, you putter around for a few years with big dreams, you get your master's, you work for years at a job you hate to pay off your student loans you incurred in the process of getting your master's, you wake up forty, disillusioned, and sad. So anyway, some reasons I have:
1. It seems to be a foregone conclusion that I will. And so screw you, establishment. (I'm so hardcore.) Being successful without one is really the only way I can prove that you don't need one.
2. Staged readings with talkback sessions. Ever sat through one? Want a program that's based on doing a lot of them? Me neither.
3. Your mom goes to college. Okay, no. That is not my reason. I do, however, want to point out that the people who made that movie did so without a master's. And they have more money than you do.
4. Writing a thesis. See also being attacked by carpenter ants.
5. Because I'm so afraid I'm going to end up there anyway, despite my lists or supposed solidarity right now. It's going to happen, I just know it! And it really pisses me off!
It's time to not be writing this anymore. Thank you for coming and I might see you soon, I might not. Okay? No promises.
But I'll write again soon, really.
(I will say this: haveing seventy-five blogs, or however many I have started and abandoned like a blogging baby daddy, is not ideal and I will only be posting here now. Maybe that way I will be able to...Nope, no promises.)
My life is very boring right now. By "right now" I don't mean "these days" or "as of late," though I do feel that way at times. No, I mean literally right now as I'm waiting for it to be 6:00 and, thus, time to go home from work. While we wait, let me share some things with you:
Allegedly, the best way to tell the difference between a muffin and a cupcake (note the subjectivity of the word "best" here) is to throw them aganst a wall and listen for either a "poof" or a "thud." This is for real, it came from the internet. If you're wondering if I'll be trying this while I have my family's house to myself this week, stop wondering.
I tried to play Werewolves with my extended family last week and my Grandpa, gotta love him, was NOT amused. You see, he was a werewolf and when he was prompted by the moderator to choose someone he wanted to kill he promptly closed his eyes and refused to play any more. This game, by the way, is awesome and if I had enough friends in Sacramento I would have people over to play sometime. It is not nearly as nerdy as it sounds but I don't know why I'm explaining myself to you anyway.
Does anyone accept Discover cards?
In the courtyard of the Music Circus there is a fountain. I've observed so many people focused intently on this fountain for long periods of time and have done so myself on more than one occasion. I only wish I could write something that could capture and hold people's attention so easily.
And now, for a list...Why I don't want to go to grad school. Yet, I should say, "Why I don't want to go to grad school YET." (This just in, I can't decide whether the voice I'm hearing at my right is a male or female. I'm turning my head to look...And it's a woman. Mystery solved.) Back to grad school. Or to NOT going to grad school. It seems like my receiving my MFA in something or other is a foregone conclusion: you get your bachelor's, you putter around for a few years with big dreams, you get your master's, you work for years at a job you hate to pay off your student loans you incurred in the process of getting your master's, you wake up forty, disillusioned, and sad. So anyway, some reasons I have:
1. It seems to be a foregone conclusion that I will. And so screw you, establishment. (I'm so hardcore.) Being successful without one is really the only way I can prove that you don't need one.
2. Staged readings with talkback sessions. Ever sat through one? Want a program that's based on doing a lot of them? Me neither.
3. Your mom goes to college. Okay, no. That is not my reason. I do, however, want to point out that the people who made that movie did so without a master's. And they have more money than you do.
4. Writing a thesis. See also being attacked by carpenter ants.
5. Because I'm so afraid I'm going to end up there anyway, despite my lists or supposed solidarity right now. It's going to happen, I just know it! And it really pisses me off!
It's time to not be writing this anymore. Thank you for coming and I might see you soon, I might not. Okay? No promises.
But I'll write again soon, really.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Bathsheba's Untimely End and Matthew's Promising Beginning
A funny thing happened on the way to Sacramento. As those who follow my Tweets and Facebook statuses (stati?) can verify, I had a little adventure in Nevada on Thursday and Friday. (Oh, and lest we be misled, I am in no way bragging about the fact that I Tweet and Facebook, or that people follow me for that matter.) To make a long (and not very exciting) story short (and even less exciting) I broke down halfway between Winnemucca and Lovelock at about midnight on Thursday night. ("Matthew, what were you doing driving so late?" "That isn't safe!" "You need to be more careful!" Okay, we have all those taken care of; let's move on.)
So, the tow truck dropped me off at a strange little casino in Winnemucca where I stayed the night. (Pause for visual aid.)
The next day, the executive decision was made to cut our losses and abandon the car in Nevada so my dad came out and picked me up to bring me out to Sacramento.
My Friday morning/afternoon in Winnemucca led me to a lot of pondering and soul-searching. And, as is typical, planning and goal setting. I pulled out a notebook and started outlining the next phase of my life, detailing what I wanted to do with myself, where I want to end up, how I can achieve the lofty goals I've set for myself. I realized during this self examination that I need to stop thinking of my future and start thinking of the present: what am I doing right now to get what I want? I need to stop thinking of "paying the bills" and "building a career" as two separate things but believe that now is the time for the two to become one. And I felt that, despite this most recent curve ball, things are going to work out and life is going to be great.
I'm setting out to "walk on water," as it were. It might seem impossible but each step forward tells me it's not. The difference is that I won't let myself get caught off guard by the waves and the wind. I'm not going to go down pointless roads of "what-ifs." I'm just going to move forward, with or without a clear path, a set plan, a stable career, or a working car.
So, um, yeah. Bring it on, world.
So, the tow truck dropped me off at a strange little casino in Winnemucca where I stayed the night. (Pause for visual aid.)
The next day, the executive decision was made to cut our losses and abandon the car in Nevada so my dad came out and picked me up to bring me out to Sacramento.
My Friday morning/afternoon in Winnemucca led me to a lot of pondering and soul-searching. And, as is typical, planning and goal setting. I pulled out a notebook and started outlining the next phase of my life, detailing what I wanted to do with myself, where I want to end up, how I can achieve the lofty goals I've set for myself. I realized during this self examination that I need to stop thinking of my future and start thinking of the present: what am I doing right now to get what I want? I need to stop thinking of "paying the bills" and "building a career" as two separate things but believe that now is the time for the two to become one. And I felt that, despite this most recent curve ball, things are going to work out and life is going to be great.
I'm setting out to "walk on water," as it were. It might seem impossible but each step forward tells me it's not. The difference is that I won't let myself get caught off guard by the waves and the wind. I'm not going to go down pointless roads of "what-ifs." I'm just going to move forward, with or without a clear path, a set plan, a stable career, or a working car.
So, um, yeah. Bring it on, world.
My Graduation Speech
Good morning, members and guests of the class of 2010. My name is Matthew Greene and I am one of the many graduates gathered here today. I am honored to be receiving a degree in Theatre Arts Studies with an emphasis in playwriting and directing and I’ve been asked to speak for a few minutes this morning.
I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll assume that everyone is honored and relieved to reach the end of a four (or, more realistically, five or six) year journey, and I don’t want to repeat the advice, the warnings, or the words of encouragement we’ve all been hearing since we applied for graduation. I’ll just share with you a certain thought that I think has entered the mind of every graduate here and refused to leave until we’d met its eye and let it sense our fear. This thought sounds something along the lines of: Several years and thousands of dollars later, I’m graduating with a degree in fine arts; have I just made a huge mistake?
This thought may have come to you, my fellow graduates, as you walked past the career fair in the Wilkinson Center on your way to another rehearsal in the Harris Fine Arts Building, or when you perused the want ads and suddenly felt decidedly unwanted. “Can you really make a career out of that?” and “How are you going to support yourself or a family?” are no longer fodder for uncles and aunts to ask us over Thanksgiving dinner. Now they comprise our reality, that crossroads we expect to hear all about at graduation ceremonies. Yes, today is an exciting day, a day for us to wiggle our way out from under the weight of childhood dreams, rehearsal hours, proficiency scores, and resume building to receive the diplomas we’ve worked so hard for.
But still there is the question: Have I just made a huge mistake? It’s true that we are a talented, gifted group of people. But the work we do can’t provide shelter or fuel or heat. You certainly can’t eat the things we create and I imagine we’ve all wondered if it’s even possible to sell them. Still, something brought us here and kept us out of the solace of the business school or the comfort of computer classes, something more than the whim of an eighteen-year-old freshman. For some reason we found that it was in the abstract, the poetic, or the land of onstage make-believe that the world started to make sense.
This is nothing new. We aren’t the first group of people to choose the impractical and the immaterial. Before there were editing rooms or critical theories or universities at all, there were stories told, music shared; art was created. This is more than escapism or the indulgence of a talented few. There is a basic human need that brought us to this point, one that, we hope and pray, will bring others to the work we create. There is something essential about what we do.
In talking of our essence, we remember that at our core we are made up of light and truth, of intelligence, which is distinguished in scripture as the glory of God. So, as the sons and daughters of a divine creator, children of light and truth, guided by the Spirit of Christ which “proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space,” (D&C 88:12) every man, woman, and child on Earth needs what we as artists have the opportunity to share! “For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light…” (D&C 88:40).
In other words, we are all, in one way or another, aware of where we came from and what we are made of. Mankind craves that intelligence, wisdom, truth, virtue, and light from whence we came in the same way we crave food. This is where we as artists come in. Elder Russell M. Nelson said: “Spiritually successful artists have the unique opportunity to present their feelings, opinions, ideas, and perspectives of eternity in visual and sound symbols that are universally understood. Great art touches the soul in unique and uncommon ways. Divinely inspired art speaks in the language of eternity, teaching things to the heart that the eyes and ears can never understand.”
We’re sitting in this particular convocation ceremony in this particular building because each of us has chosen this way of life, this particular road less traveled, because in the arts we found what we and everyone else in the world is looking for. Yes, I found God on my knees in prayer and in words of scripture. But I also found Him on the stage of a theatre, in the pages of a script, and in the electricity of an audience engaged.
Now we have another choice to make: the choice to use our gifts and the education we’ve received here to fill the world with light and truth. When we ask ourselves, “Have I just made a huge mistake?” we can answer with confidence and conviction that we have acknowledged the stewardship with which our Heavenly Father has entrusted us and made preparations as undergraduate students to continue His work on the earth with our gifts, our knowledge, and our intelligence. These are not “useless degrees.” These are a symbol of the commitment we’ve made to excellence, of the love we have for our God, our craft, and our fellow man.
It is the nature of faith that we surrender any supposed control of what the future may bring, how that audition will pan out, where we’ll end up months, even weeks from now. We do know this: we are committed to do what we know is right and we have faith that doors will be opened and ways will be prepared for us to do what we need to do. One thing is certain: as intimidating and hostile as the arts and entertainment industry may seem, it is nothing compared to the forces of good, the power of truth, and the light that fills the immensity of space. Now the work begins, and so does the fun. So, congratulations and good luck, my fellow members of the class of 2010.
I’ll cut to the chase. I’ll assume that everyone is honored and relieved to reach the end of a four (or, more realistically, five or six) year journey, and I don’t want to repeat the advice, the warnings, or the words of encouragement we’ve all been hearing since we applied for graduation. I’ll just share with you a certain thought that I think has entered the mind of every graduate here and refused to leave until we’d met its eye and let it sense our fear. This thought sounds something along the lines of: Several years and thousands of dollars later, I’m graduating with a degree in fine arts; have I just made a huge mistake?
This thought may have come to you, my fellow graduates, as you walked past the career fair in the Wilkinson Center on your way to another rehearsal in the Harris Fine Arts Building, or when you perused the want ads and suddenly felt decidedly unwanted. “Can you really make a career out of that?” and “How are you going to support yourself or a family?” are no longer fodder for uncles and aunts to ask us over Thanksgiving dinner. Now they comprise our reality, that crossroads we expect to hear all about at graduation ceremonies. Yes, today is an exciting day, a day for us to wiggle our way out from under the weight of childhood dreams, rehearsal hours, proficiency scores, and resume building to receive the diplomas we’ve worked so hard for.
But still there is the question: Have I just made a huge mistake? It’s true that we are a talented, gifted group of people. But the work we do can’t provide shelter or fuel or heat. You certainly can’t eat the things we create and I imagine we’ve all wondered if it’s even possible to sell them. Still, something brought us here and kept us out of the solace of the business school or the comfort of computer classes, something more than the whim of an eighteen-year-old freshman. For some reason we found that it was in the abstract, the poetic, or the land of onstage make-believe that the world started to make sense.
This is nothing new. We aren’t the first group of people to choose the impractical and the immaterial. Before there were editing rooms or critical theories or universities at all, there were stories told, music shared; art was created. This is more than escapism or the indulgence of a talented few. There is a basic human need that brought us to this point, one that, we hope and pray, will bring others to the work we create. There is something essential about what we do.
In talking of our essence, we remember that at our core we are made up of light and truth, of intelligence, which is distinguished in scripture as the glory of God. So, as the sons and daughters of a divine creator, children of light and truth, guided by the Spirit of Christ which “proceedeth forth from the presence of God to fill the immensity of space,” (D&C 88:12) every man, woman, and child on Earth needs what we as artists have the opportunity to share! “For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light…” (D&C 88:40).
In other words, we are all, in one way or another, aware of where we came from and what we are made of. Mankind craves that intelligence, wisdom, truth, virtue, and light from whence we came in the same way we crave food. This is where we as artists come in. Elder Russell M. Nelson said: “Spiritually successful artists have the unique opportunity to present their feelings, opinions, ideas, and perspectives of eternity in visual and sound symbols that are universally understood. Great art touches the soul in unique and uncommon ways. Divinely inspired art speaks in the language of eternity, teaching things to the heart that the eyes and ears can never understand.”
We’re sitting in this particular convocation ceremony in this particular building because each of us has chosen this way of life, this particular road less traveled, because in the arts we found what we and everyone else in the world is looking for. Yes, I found God on my knees in prayer and in words of scripture. But I also found Him on the stage of a theatre, in the pages of a script, and in the electricity of an audience engaged.
Now we have another choice to make: the choice to use our gifts and the education we’ve received here to fill the world with light and truth. When we ask ourselves, “Have I just made a huge mistake?” we can answer with confidence and conviction that we have acknowledged the stewardship with which our Heavenly Father has entrusted us and made preparations as undergraduate students to continue His work on the earth with our gifts, our knowledge, and our intelligence. These are not “useless degrees.” These are a symbol of the commitment we’ve made to excellence, of the love we have for our God, our craft, and our fellow man.
It is the nature of faith that we surrender any supposed control of what the future may bring, how that audition will pan out, where we’ll end up months, even weeks from now. We do know this: we are committed to do what we know is right and we have faith that doors will be opened and ways will be prepared for us to do what we need to do. One thing is certain: as intimidating and hostile as the arts and entertainment industry may seem, it is nothing compared to the forces of good, the power of truth, and the light that fills the immensity of space. Now the work begins, and so does the fun. So, congratulations and good luck, my fellow members of the class of 2010.
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