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.

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.

A letter

Dear guy sitting next to us in Biology,
I’m sorry you’re having a hard time focusing right now. To be honest, so am I and I guess it could be for that reason that Julie and I are talking about her boyfriend’s testimony of Café Rio instead of listening to the lecture about the water cycle. I learned about this in elementary school. We sang a song. We should do that now. No, I’m not being fair to you and yes, I do feel guilty. But let me explain…
Okay, so the truth is, I am having a hard time caring at all about this class. I’m about to get a BA in Theatre Arts Studies. Is there a more useless degree? Perhaps. But don’t rain on my pity parade. (Yes, I realize having a degree in theatre is better than not having any degree at all. But, that’s not what I’m talking about.) To get this degree I’m sitting through lectures that consist mainly of tangents and vacation photos. I should be more interested in al of this. I mean, isn’t biology mentioned specifically in the Doctrine and Covenants? The fact is, though, that I see this class as a hoop to jump through. Everyone, in fact, sees this class as a hoop to jump through because those who are actually going into biology are required to take a more intense class, one where the water cycle, I imagine, is a given. (Why am I irritated by the simplistic nature of this curriculum? It means I’ll get an A in here. So, I retract those grievances. Keep cycling, water!)
So, guy sitting next to us, I can only speak for myself but I’m having a hard time connecting this class to anything in the real world. Funny, isn’t it? That in a class all about the living world I have a hard time applying it to my life. But that’s the sad truth, I’m afraid. The truth is I need this class to get a degree that, if things go my way, I have absolutely no need for. My bachelor’s is necessary for my contingency plan, I suppose, but I quite feasibly will never list my undergrad work on a single relevant resume for the rest of my life. When looked at in that context, it’s tough to get too involved in the ramblings of the sweet old man giving this lecture.
I’m glad Julie and I have a class together, not because it will in any way enhance my academic experience in this class. In fact, maybe the fact that she doesn’t come to class sometimes is the reason I did marginally well on the first midterm (86%). The reason I’m happy she’s here to experience this with me is that we seem to provide a veritable “Balm of Gilead” for one another to help deal with the day-to-day annoyances of attending BYU. (Yes, guy next to me, I know I should be grateful for the opportunity to attend BYU. Yes. And I am, truly. It does not, however, change the fact that after four years here I still have an enormously difficult time connecting to the prevailing culture at this fine institution. This is no secret. And I think it’s okay. I’ll donate to the university if I ever sell a screenplay.) It’s during biology that Julie and I unload and manage to laugh about the silly little miseries that make us grit our teeth and roll our eyes any other time. It’s important. For both of us, I think.
But, guy sitting next to us, biology lectures are neither the time nor the place for this activity. You have the right to take notes and get good grades on the remaining two tests and who am I to stand in your way? I’ve gleaned from this lecture about as much information as I would have if I had stayed in the HFAC. Because that’s what I need: more time in the HFAC.
So, thank you, guy sitting next to us. Thank you for reminding me that I have yet another thing I need to work on. I’ve found I spend much less time than most of my dear BYU friends dwelling on my own failings and imperfections. I know they’re there but I tend to believe that simply dwelling on the good things I should be doing is much more effective than thinking about the fact that I’m not doing them as well as I should be. I probably shouldn’t sacrifice biology, healthy sleeping habits, and future financial security because I feel confident in my future as a playwright. And it’s good to be reminded. Even if I resent you and your fashionable wedding ring and thoughtful questions about swamplands in Brazil. That resentment won’t last long. Let’s not lose our heads.
Take care, guy sitting next to us. Kiss your wife and study your copious notes. I won’t ask you to email them to me. I’ll ask someone else. It’s a big class.
Your classmate,
Matthew

PS: The professor said the following a few minutes ago and I thought it was poetic. (See, I’m listening!)
What have we done with the Garden of Eden?
We plowed it and planted corn.

Getting personal

I realize, of course, that no one wants to read a blog about how I wish I blogged more or explaining why I don’t. So, I won’t go into any of that. I’ll simply cite one excue I have and go from there.
I’m often surprised by the people who read this. Quite often I meet people who know more about me than I realize because they’ve read it on GreenePeace. Thus, I think I’m too careful about what I post. I omit names, gloss over details, or (most often) simply opt out of sharing anything that might be seen as too personal.
This may seem perfectly normal, but it puzzles me. The other night, a couple friends of mine and I were engaged in one of those late night conversations when secrets are divulged and everyone, for one reason or another, feels at ease sharing things hitherto unspoken. I often wish I had more secrets than I do, but I’ve found that I’m not one to shy away from sharing what little intrigue can be found in my sterile little world.
Why, then, am I so gun shy when it comes to blogging? In all honesty, it’s probably a petty excuse for not writing as often as I’d like to. And excuses are bad. That said, let’s proceed.

So, how am I these days? I think I’m doing alright. I really am immensely grateful for the blessings I have and realize how fortunate I am: I have a faith that renders the world in brighter colors than most people are able to see, I have family and friends whose love I can’t begin to doubt, I have more opportunities than I can handle to exercise and develop my talents, and I live in a comfort and a peace so constant that I find myself forgetting too often how well-off I am.

I’ve said before that I live my life in a perpetual state of frustration. This, however, doesn’t cheapen or discredit the wonderful things I’ve just listed. It means, though, that I am never satisfied. Hence the busy schedule, the perfectionism, the wild ambitions. This means, among other things, that I do not stop. Ever.
A friend of mine, upon hearing about the awesome opportunities afforded to me this semester, told me I’m a lucky guy. I know what he meant, but it was a little off-putting. I don’t like being described as “lucky.” “Blessed” is okay, but “lucky” implies the existence of some fortuitous lottery that I have somehow won. “Lucky,” in a way, discounts the Saturday nights spent at home writing, the sleep deprivation, and the countless hours a week spent in rehearsal. I am fortunate and I believe the stars aligned to a certain degree to afford me the favorable circumstances I needed to succeed as much as I have up to this point. That knowledge, however, only makes me work harder. From a romantic religious perspective, if Heavenly Father so stacked the deck for me to be able to succeed, I darn well better succeed. It means I have no time to spare, no time to waste. Whatever I’m doing now, however diligent or exemplary it may seem, is simply not enough. Nothing ever will be.
In the meantime, though, I’m happy. I like working hard, I like accomplishing things. I like the rare moments of “fun” mixed in, but I realize that if the rest of it weren’t enjoyable I’d have burned out long ago. This semester is going to be a busy one, but boy am I going to have a good time along the way.

I said last week, mostly in light of the onslaught of long to-do lists and frustration with the number of hours in the day, that I wasn’t going to date this semester. After all, my recent pursuits have fizzled out as a result of my busy schedule (and, in some cases, theirs) and, my friends assure me, a possible lack of interest. I find it difficult to fathom the possibility of finding enough time even for something casual. By the time it gets to Saturday night, my only “night off” of the week, I’m so tired that I don’t want to do anything but lie in bed, watch indulgent movies, and single-handedly eat a Little Caesar’s pizza.
Those who know me best, though, remind me that when I’m really interested in someone I manage to make the time necessary. I was in love once and it came at a time that probably couldn’t have been more inopportune. It was important enough, though, that I was willing to be creative and make necessary sacrifices (often of sleep) to ensure that there was sufficient time. Just thinking about that gives me confidence that I won’t become the zealous artist who is blinded to everything but his work. My work took a backseat once before and I’m sure it could happen again. It will just take a lot.
I like saying, “I was in love once.” It makes me feel worldly wise and reminds me of what might have been the happiest time in my life. (I can’t think of anything that tops it in recent memory, at least.) The whole experience left its mark on my life, quite a formidable mark at that. But that is the subject for another blog, one when I’m even less inhibited about sharing things.
On top of all that, I seem to have a tendency to gravitate toward really bad dating ideas. I’m smart enough to keep myself from indulging any of them, but still, it’s alarming.

Okay, that’s enough writing for now. Hopefully this will become more of a regular thing. But I won’t elaborate on that.

Seven confessions

-There are three books I pretend I’ve read but never finished.
-I do not floss. Ever.
-I don’t think I’m as smart as my GPA indicates.
-I speed. Always.
-Sometimes I don’t like foreign films. In fact, sometimes I crave really stupid movies. I usually don’t give in, however.
-I judge people by their shoes more often than I like to admit.
-Sometimes I daydream about being a professional athlete. Really.

Psych out

I’m sitting in my psychology class working on a “group presentation” with a couple of guys I’m sitting next to. One of them is trying to explain why he, in spite of his white skin, deserves a multicultural scholarship because he’s a seventh generation Californian and only three generations ago California had barely become a part of the United States. I stopped myself from trying to correct any one of the absurdities in his logic, realizing that I’ve done nothing but argue with what he has said since our discussion began. He has, in fact, been wrong about nearly everything he’s said in the last ten minutes but he’s talking in the “I’m smart” voice, which has fooled our third group member into believing that if white people have higher SAT scores than minorities, then the palest white people must be the smartest. Am I in college? I wonder sometimes.
Okay, I’m being too harsh. He’s mentioned his (pale) wife several times and I have to bear in mind that this guy got a woman to fall in love with him. There has got to be more than meets the eye. I’m sure if I gave him a chance I could come to understand him better. I like to think I’m getting better at looking past what is initially off-putting and assuming there is something I can’t see. The old Matthew would roll his eyes and make a mental note not to sit in this row again. (Isn’t it weird how people tend to always sit in the same spots in a classroom?) However, the new Matthew is not so dismissive. I hope.
I think the guy sitting next to me (the neutral member of the group) has been reading this over my shoulder. I should be nicer.

A week in the life...

I had the idea that maybe if I made blogging a weekly activity I would do it more faithfully. So, here's a quick summary of this last one.
The second week of classes went just swimmingly. (We should use that word more.) I actually have two tests during the coming week, but we won't think about that now. At the moment, I'm happy my English class is teaching me to be a grown-up and to read boring things. (Look, I'm sorry, Benjamin Franklin, but your autobiography is just too long.) I'm discovering some really interesting pieces of literature though. Well, not discovering since I suppose their inclusion in an anthology and on my syllabus makes their content anything but uncharted territory. Perhaps I'm just trying to make up for the years I've spent as a student avoiding reading substantial non-theatrical material. That must be it.
My psychology class is really interesting and I forgot how easy 100-level classes are. (Don't hate me, my young friends.) That means it's fun and interesting without being especially challenging. Which, sometimes, is quite nice.
What else, what else...I'm enjoying work. It seems that every time I work I discover more things that I don't know and I look forward to the day when I feel more comfortable with it all. It's something I really want to be good at so I'm willing to work for it. This job has me exploring career options that I'd never even considered before. Jake suggested the other day that he, Addi, and I each get a foster child to take care of and raise them in our student apartment. It was a funny proposition. (No, we're not going to do that.)
Other than that, I suppose there isn't much going on. I had a nice Independence Day yesterday. I went hiking with some friends and then another friend and I crashed a family barbecue in American Fork. It was fun being with a family, even if it wasn't mine. I tried to figure out why I don't see myself as particularly patriotic and I may have reached a conclusion. America as an entity doesn't mean a great deal to me. I love so many things about this country but I think I'd be just as happy living somewhere else where the same basic civil liberties were available to me. I appreciate and acknowledge the sacrifices made by those who made this country what it is but I see those stories more as chronicles of the strength of the human spirit than anything else. I admire William Wilberforce as much as George Washington but neither one for their citizenship in any particular nation. If that admiration makes me a patriot, great! If not, however, I might just have to accept that.
Anyway, that was weird. I finished off the week with a nice uplifting Sunday. Church was great today and this evening we had a little gathering at my place where cinnamon rolls were consumed and "Werewolves" was played. It was intense. I can't sleep, even though I have to be up in six hours. Yes, six. It's going to be a long week. I guess I'll go try again.