Shelley Does Chicago!!

a little floudering

2008-01-08T22:22:00.001-08:00

My grandma passed away today. We were very close. I wrote this eulogy for her.

The greatest gift my grandma has given me and my siblings is her unconditional love for us. With this love came a sense of pride so powerful, I have spent many moments trying to decide if I truly deserved it. I’ll be honest, it is in our nature to look down on ourselves a little bit.

I tried to look up a quote about pride that would be fitting to this speech. I couldn’t find one. Every quotation about pride was negative, cautioning, and shrewd. My grandma’s pride in us was none of these things. Instead, my grandma looked on every achievement and downfall with an equal sense of opportunity and encouragement. Her pride in us was never unknowing, rather it was wise to what we were capable of if we just applied ourselves.

When I was in elementary school, Grandma would send us packages with t-shirts she had made. She was very into this book of iron-on transfers she acquired, and she would transfer specific designs onto t-shirts and custom-paint them for us. My brother received shirts decorated with cars, trains, boats, all in his favorite color-- blue. I remember my sister once received a sweatshirt with a cheerleader chanting for her first rec-soccer team, The Apostles. “Go Apostles!” it said. I still have my favorite t-shirt my grandma made me. It’s bright pink, embellished with three fluffy sheep in a barnyard. I always loved that shirt, and I wore it proudly-- “My grandma made this for me,” I’d tell the other kids in my class. For every iota of pride she held for me, I met her back tenfold.

I had an eerie experience one time with Grandma when she visited us in San Jose. I’m going to guess I was about 12, maybe 13. Grandma liked to take us shopping when we saw her, and this particular visit was no exception. As a side note, I remember Grampy telling me the best way to make a dollar disappear was to give it to Grandma. I still think this joke is funny. At any rate, Grandma took us shopping at Macy’s, and this particular memory takes place at the register, where she was buying me a nightgown. I still have it: it’s from Joe Boxer (very hip at the time), adorned with cool-colored butterflies. Yes, I still wear it sometimes. As she sifted through her purse to find a credit card, I stared Grandma up and down. Although I was young, I knew I was looking at myself, many years in the future. I was certain I would look just like her someday, and had an ounce of hope that I could become as endearing and kind. The woman at the register took Grandma’s payment, and admired the two of us. “This is your granddaughter,” she asked. My grandma proclaimed proudly that I was. “Oh, and some day she will be just like you, buying presents for her grandchildren,” the woman behind the counter knowingly responded. I remember being absolutely dumbfounded that this random woman had predicted everything I had simultaneously wished for. I left Macy’s feeling heavy, caught in the act; and I was very proud.

I have two pictures of my grandparents on the wall in my kitchen. One was taken at a frat barbecue on Coney Island, the other during their honeymoon at Niagara Falls. My friends will come over, mull over my things, make comments, yet always pause while looking at these two pictures. “Who is this woman,” they ask. I tell them, happily, she is my grandma. “You look so much alike, it’s strange,” they exclaim. I thank them, because I am so pleased, proud even, to be compared with her.

When Grandma played with us, she always suspended her sense of wonder. She let us adorn ourselves in her scarves and perfume and pretend to be gypsies or kitties or whatever. She read books to my brother, made art projects with my sister, and she regaled me with stories and year book photos. Nothing we believed or feared was childish or foolish in her eyes: the knot holes in the woodwork on my brother’s crib were terrifying, and the scary crab noises my sister heard were very real. While my pursuit of theater came as a fairy-tale to some, Grandma never judged it as frivolous. Instead, she was proud of me. Every poorly edited VHS tape of every performance I ever did was wonderful, and so I became wonderful to myself.

I feel very sad and a little angry over the circumstances that I share these memories with you. I feel sad and a little angry that Grandma isn’t here to hear exactly what I have to say. These feelings, though I know I share them with all of you, are not productive right now. Grandma held so much joy in her life, and she brought joy to others, as if by a fault. I imagine her feeling a little guilty with us being so sad. She was a light to everyone she met, and she will go on burning in our hearts.

Grandma told me that all of her friends came to her house and commented that the portrait taken of me from my senior year in high school looked just like Rita Hayworth. She was so proud to claim me as her granddaughter. I was so proud to be a Rita Hayworth look-alike who could claim my grandma. I have been so blessed.

Oh go in beauty, thy peace be with you, till we meet in our hearts in the light.

oh, and . . .

2008-01-05T00:33:00.001-08:00

I don't like Tom Robbins. I know he's everyone's modern American literary darling, but pretty much, he annoys the goddamned shit out of me. All hatred aside, Robbins is dynamic and talented in his own right, and this passage is poignant:

If you take any activity, any art, any discipline, any skill, take it and push it as far as it will go, push it beyond where it has ever been before, push it to the wildest edge of edges, then you force it into the realm of magic. And it doesn't matter what it is that you select, because when it has been pushed far enough it contains everything else.

I have really exciting news:

2008-01-04T23:53:00.001-08:00

I have officially been to Wisconsin! Today was a very exciting day, indeed. After work this afternoon, Rose, David, and I took an impromptu trip up north to visit the vibrant city of Milwaukee. You know all this talking I've been doing about wanting to go more places in the Midwest? I'm on a roll, man. We stopped off in Evanston to visit a certain American Apparel and, umm, shop, and then it was straight up to America's Dairy Land. It gets dark very early here, so my impression of Milwaukee is a little strange because we didn't end up getting there until about 6 o'clock. Rose found this random brewery by sending text messages to Google so we stopped in for a tour. Lakefront Brewery, that's what it was called. The tour itself was okay, and they gave us a lot of free samples of beer, a souvenir pint glass, and a $5 food coupon all for $10. I mean, shit's cheap in Wisconsin. The really awesome thing about this brewery was that the restaurant part of it was set up as this very German-American family style deal with live polka music. Really good live polka music and a dance floor. It was a little obscene how quaint the entire experience was. The brewery itself was packed too, and there were a lot of little kids running around and dancing little kid versions of polka. I think they were all drinking rootbeer.

After the brewery we ventured downtown and went ice skating on an outdoor rink. I hadn't skated in years, but I'm not too bad at it. Yet to be perfectly honest, I was no match for all the Milwaukee pre-teens who probably skated out of the womb onto a picturesque frozen pond. I'm serious though, they were all really really good.

I liked what I saw and could process of Milwaukee. Coming into it off the freeway (actually, it was a toll-way), the city looked like mountains of industry with tall cozy buildings nestled behind it. There were signs of this contrast of industry and quaintness throughout the downtown. The city has a river running through it that was frozen solid. It was strange, because even though the three of us took a bit of a walk around downtown, we saw very few people . . . very very few for a Friday night. Milwaukee is definitely not a city as I'm used to-- it has a very simple, small-town feel. In some ways, it reminded me of Dublin a little bit, because I remember being so surprised at how small Dublin felt when I was there. I think the river evoked that image as well.

It's warming up again! The past few days have been really cold-- at least the coldest I've experienced right now. Right now it's 31 degrees, and I know it's crazy, but that feels damn balmy. I think I'm adjusting fine to the cold weather; I'm not bad at dressing in layers and wearing all the necessary garments. What's odd, or still novel to me, is that I'll have all these clothes on (undershirt, longsleaved shirt, sweater, leggings, pants, coat, scarf, hat, gloves, two pairs of socks, boots) and my body will not feel cold, but my face, which is peeking out from all these layers will feel a cold sensation unlike anything I've ever felt. If I have to walk far enough, my ears will start to burn, and I feel this stabbing pain in my back because my entire body wants to shiver for my ears' sake, but finds itself unable. It sounds dramatic, but I don't feel dramatic about it . . . just a bit chilly.

So the new drink of choice is Maker's Mark. Whiskey warms the heart and tests the soul, my friends.

'Between Barack and a Hard Place'

2008-01-03T23:28:00.000-08:00

Congrats Obama, you're soooo IN in the Heartland.

New Year Here

2008-01-01T17:57:00.000-08:00

Well, I officially know what zero degrees feels like. I italicize "feels" because it's technically 15 degrees outside, but weather.com tells me the wind chill factor is making it feel like zero. I feel really silly, because I didn't put on a hat this morning when I left for work, and thus had to walk home in said zero-feeling weather with a bare head. My ears and nose have never felt this sensation before.

So there's this thing called blogging . . .

2007-12-29T07:23:00.000-08:00

. . . and I'm apparently not very good at keeping up with it. 2008 is upon me, and I resolve to become better at updating, mostly because I was/still am really excited about this project.

Apologies and self-deprecation out of the way . . . how are you?

I'm great!

I'm trying to think of what's been going on in the past 6 or so weeks. Let's see . . . I work a lot. Like a lot a lot. I think my longest stretch without a day off so far has been 16 days. I can't say that I enjoy working so much, but it's what I need to do right now to get ahead. Sometimes I get a little anxious that I'll never be able to get ahead, and I'll be stuck working forever and never doing what I want to be doing (aka making theater). This is already a lie, because the project I'm working on with Max, Rose, and Kevin is in rehearsal and we're set to perform on the 23rd of January. It's been an interesting experience because we're working without a designated director or other set roles. As a result, there's been a lot of collaboration and melding of ideas. I'm surprised at how much I've brought to the table as far as developing a story and making it work on stage, mostly because I kinda always assumed I was simply and actor and didn't know much outside creating a project from that standpoint. It's funny, but I've realized that I've been so conscience of making the story clear that I've slacked off a little bit on character development. I'm not worried though. We have some time left to pull everything together (and a lot still needs to get done), and I have a feeling this project will consume the next few weeks.

I haven't been on any auditions for a few weeks, mostly due to holidays and the like. I'm okay with that. I feel like auditioning has gone well, better than I ever imagined it could go, but unfortunately my heart isn't in it at the moment. I feel like a bit of a snot, but I really just want to work on developing my own pieces. I've been having so much fun working with Max, Rose, and Kevin on our show that I haven't wanted to venture off into the rest of the theater world to look for other projects just yet. Rose and I had an awesome opportunity to talk to a guy who's a part of a theater company based in Chicago (the name of the company escapes me) for a while about starting a company. I asked him point blank, "What do we need to do to start our own company?" expecting him to give a short, bullshitted answer. Instead, he talked for half an hour about everything that goes into making a company work, from the ground up. He was extremely encouraging, and offered to help us in any way he could with advice and support. It was really great to experience such compassion and excitement from someone more experienced in the theater scene in Chicago. Moreover, he never acted like it was ludicrous of us to think we could take on this task by ourselves, without any real experience. Instead, he was practically encouraging us to go it alone, and figure things out along the way.

Despite my desire to work on my own shit, I think it would be foolish of me to ignore the opportunities all around me. I have some auditions lined up in January, and I've decided it's really important to just get out there and go consistently to make good connections and get more experience. Red Moon has an unpaid internship they are auditioning for that I am really into. It's focused on creating performance involving objects and structures in public space, and I feel like it would be an excellent opportunity for me to learn and meet people interested in the same kind of performance I am. Although I feel trained as an actress, and capable of bringing something to someone else's project, my understanding of developing pieces of my own is limited. I really want more information about the best way to map out a performance, what styles work, what relationships can be created, what media best incorporates into performance . . . I think my biggest concern in developing pieces will be being poignant without coming across as heavy-handed. It is my belief that you can create theater that shatters preconceived ideas and shakes an audience to the bone without preaching or being indecipherably abstract-- I mean, like, I've seen it.

At times I'll feel really overwhelmed about being here. I really love this city, and I know moving here was the absolute right decision. At the same time, it hasn't been so easy picking up and moving so far away without any real prospects or directions. I mean, I had a job and a place to live and I knew two people, and admittedly, that was a pretty good start. I'll catch myself beating myself up for not accomplishing more in the less-than three months I've lived here, and I always need to stop and take a deep breath and remind myself that I am 22 and I am doing the best I can. I think it can be frustrating because there is so much I want to do, and I want to do it so badly that at times I hurt, and failure scares me more than anything. But hey, I'm kinda a grown-up now, so it's probably time to start taking it in stride.

Let's see . . . other news . . . Patrick Kovach-Long came and stayed with me for about 6 days about two weeks ago. I had a lot of fun showing him around the city. It snowed a lot while he was here. We made a trip to The Art Institute, and I got to see a bit more of the museum than I had previously. Sunday in the Park is pretty fucking incredible. And did you know that the two people in American Gothic were the painter's sister and his dentist, 'cause I didn't. We also ended up drinking a lot of beer and watching over half the season of "A Shot of Love with Tila Tequila." I have some intense criticism for that show, MTV, and reality television in general, but all that for another time. For now I'll just say that I agree with Patrick: Tila Tequila looks like a scary alien cat-person.

I didn't get to go home for Christmas because of work. My first Christmas away from home was actually an intense and wonderful experience. I went to Midnight Mass at the Catholic church near my house (theater at its best), which I found incredibly uplifting and inspiring. The priest said some beautiful things about "the meaning of Christmas" which were akin to some thoughts I was having the same night. He talked about Christmas being a time to celebrate the joy in your life, despite hardships and turmoil in the world. He said that a lot of cynics can't get past the pain in the world to see that Christmas is an opportunity every year to meditate on joy, and for us to open our hearts and minds to everything that has happened to us in the past year and how we have grown. Honestly, he didn't mention Jesus as much as I thought he would, and I could really identify with the things he talked about. A lot has happened to me in the past year-- a lot of intense, trying things-- and I felt like I have learned so much about myself since last Christmas that it would be silly for me to treat it like a bunk holiday because I wasn't at home with my family. My friend Abby came over for Christmas breakfast, which was way fun. She had about a sip of champagne, and I drank the rest of the bottle. Champagne is really wonderful, I should invest in it more often. Later on we went to her house in Logan Square and cooked dinner with Kat and somehow ended up watching Sesame Street on YouTube. I really couldn't have asked for a better holiday.

I just got back a little while ago from driving Rose to work in Evanston. Evanston is kinda far, and I thought it would be good karma to drive her in this 22 degree weather. Illinois still fascinates me. The heart of Chicago is so un-Midwest looking, that sometimes I forget where I am. For a while I was convinced that this city looks like a city that could be anywhere in the country, that it didn't have a very obvious regional identity. When I mentioned this to Kyle, he told me to look closer, citing his experience in New York. He says New York feels like anybody's city most of the time, but every now and then he's hit by the intense realization that he is surrounded by east-coasters. **shutter** Anyway, my original point is that the more I see of Chicago and the surrounding areas, the more I like it. It's a little elusive. The suburbs are weird. Rose and I were driving on these picturesque streets in Evanston this morning-- huge-ass Victorian-inspired houses with ginormous lawns all caked with snow. It was weird, man. It was so . . . not California. I'm really hoping that over time I'll be able to work a little less, and I can take a trip to such exotic places as Michigan and Wisconsin. I'm not even being sarcastic right now.

random assessment.

2007-11-18T21:58:00.000-08:00

So I've realized I have this really bizarre habit of starring in people's windows. I'll be honest, I did not come to this realization recently. I think this habit has been with me for a long time, only it's become more pronounced over the years. The first time I really became aware of it was when I lived in Dykstra, and people kept their doors open, and I would always try to sneak peeks into their rooms as I walked down the hall. Okay, it sounds a little weird, but it wasn't like I was expecting to catch something interesting/exciting happening, so much as I had this urge to look into space that did not belong to me and silently judge it. Maybe not even always judge it, maybe only observe sometimes. Anyways, years after the dorm experience, I still stare into open doors and windows with the shades up. I especially like to look into restaurants, because people are so silly looking when they eat. At this point, I'm willing to dub myself a voyeur.

omg it's 41 degrees (and that's warm for November!)

2007-11-07T11:28:00.001-08:00

It's funny, I put off updating for a while because I wanted to wait for some more exciting news to share, and then semi-exciting things started happening and I found I had no time to sit down and compose a real entry. Whatevs, it's just a blog.

The most exciting thing that's happened recently is that I got a second job. I was in dire need of a second job to feel very comfortable financially, and for my sanity's sake. I mean, 2 and a half years at a coffee shop can really do something to a person. I wanted to find an entirely new job altogether, but the tips at Peet's in Chicago are pretty sweet, and we get paid lunches, so I opted to stay on (for the time being). To supplement Peet's income, I wanted to get a job in a theater, so I could at least be IN a theater. Serendipitously, the box office at The Briar Street Theater, about a 7 minute walk from my apartment, was hiring. Briar Street is the home to Blue Man Group Chicago, and has been for the last 10 years. It seems like a pretty awesome job thus far (I go in today for my 4th shift, so it's still early). The people I work with are nice, and I get to type a lot on a computer and talk in a pleasant-sounding phone voice. Honestly, I'm just way amused by the fact that I work for The Blue Man Group. Those Arrested Development episodes keep coming to mind . . . Of course, with the addition of the second job, my weeks have become rather booked. I haven't gotten to see as much theater as I'd like to, although I think I'm going to see a show at Victory Gardens (where Rose house manages) this Friday. I'll let you know aaaaalll about it.

I've finally managed to get my headshots printed! To be honest, I find it a little disconcerting to have so many pictures of myself, but I've mostly gotten over it. My resume took forever to perfect, but I'm feeling good about it, so thus beings the long process of stapling headshot to resume, tucking said compilation into large envelopes (some with self-addressed stamped enveleopes-- So that's what S.A.S.E. means!), sending them off to agencies and theater companies, and waiting to hear some news. I've noticed that I've been a little negative about this whole process in the past week or so. I've put off doing this task under the guise of being busy or tired, but I think I'm a little afraid. I think a part of me feels like if I don't start trying, I can put off failing, and feeling bad for failing on top of it. Of course, this is absurd logic, because I know deep down that I don't expect to fail, and that I fail myself by not trying in the first place. Even as I put together these S.A.S.E.s, I kept having thoughts like, "Oh, gotta make sure I include this in the package so they'll know where to send my rejection letter." I had to tell myself aloud to fucking snap out of this negative bullshit. I think I said something along the lines of, "Shelley, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. Just stop and find something else to do." Then I answered myself, "No Shelley, I swear I want to do this so badly . . . so badly, even, that it terrifies me!" So other Shelley answers, "Well, do this like you mean it, and stop looking for excuses to belittle yourself. Belittling isn't going to get you a job, and it isn't going to make you feel better about failing." (Now everyone knows how the mind of Shelley works . . . a little kooky, huh?)

At any rate, I'm feeling a lot better about sending these envelopes now. It's incredible how many opportunities there are in this city, and looking at a list of them, I feel like I qualify for a high number. I work with a guy at Blue Man who is a casting director for theater, and he's actually moving to L.A. in a couple weeks. He's one of those fabulous gay guys who knows he's fabulous (I think he may have told me this piece of information directly, too), and he pretty much told me that I need to treat myself like I believe what I'm setting out to do is valid, that I'm proud of what I have to offer, and that everyone should love me. I think I may have tried to protest a little bit, saying that I felt embarrassed that my resume contains nothing but UCLA-related projects. He wasn't having it.

I had an entire day off on Monday, so Rose and I took a trip to The Art Institute. This is the museum that houses American Gothic and Sunday in the Park, along with a shitload of other art. We got there a little late in the day, so we didn't see to much (but with my UCLA BruinCard, I can go back for just $7!). The main exhibit we spent our time in was dedicated to Jasper Johns' gray paintings. The exhibit spanned his entire career, featuring work he had done using only gray in different mediums, styles, and concepts. Here's what he says about the whole deal:

"I used gray encaustic to avoid the color situation. The encaustic paintings were done in gray because to me this suggested a different kind of literal quality that was unmoved and unmovable by coloration and thus avoided all of the emotional and dramatic quality of color."

First of all, I was shocked by how many paintings were in this exhibit. I know some of Jasper Johns' work, but what immediately comes to mind are vibrant hues taking form in targets, maps, and flags. I really had no idea he spent so much time examining what a piece could become without color. In many cases, the exhibit featured the same basic image (a flag or a map, for example) in gray done with different mediums. The charcoal, ink, and pastels hung side-by-side, and I would feel a completely different emotion wash over me with each piece, depending upon the medium. Way cool. He also had many works that incorporated objects as "devices" for the pieces. These objects (a ruler, for instance) would be used to smear the paint and create the piece, and were then displayed affixed on the canvas as part of the piece. I loved this idea of a painting owing something to an object, and yet beholding it; neither can exist without the other. I think what I found so inspiring about Johns' work was how it brought emotion down to a very base level. A piece could make me feel heavy, light, dense, sparse, full, empty, dark, light . . . and although these adjectives seem better fit to describe objects rather than human emotion, if I were to somehow burn away all the excessive humanity in my life, I come out feeling like an object experiencing very simple states. I felt like this could become a very interesting way to address a character's state at a given moment-- treating myself as an object on stage initially may make it easier to understand my humanity.

in its right place.

2007-10-21T14:21:00.000-07:00

I took an impromptu trip to Andersonville on Thursday. Andersonville is this little neighborhood in Edgewater, about five stops up from me on the red line. It was first settled by Swedish immigrants, and for some reason this intrigued me. I spent a couple of hours walking through the neighborhood and looking in the shops on Clark. Neighborhoods here are very interesting to me. The brick townhouses and wrought-iron gates are such foreign scenery. I feel like people in San Jose and Los Angeles are so obsessed by manicured lawns and ornate facades on their four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath homes. Maybe that’s the way it is in the Chicagoland suburbs too, but in the city, the houses are modest, the sidewalks are cracking, and the gardens are all overgrown. It’s pleasing to see, too, because these neighborhoods emit a sense of easy sacredness-- beautifying one’s home for his own sake, not for the sake of strangers and passer-bys.

I was prepared for moving here to be extremely difficult. I was expecting to find myself stressed out, isolated, and nervous, and these expectations made me almost resent the fact that I was moving when it came down to it. My first night here without my dad (we’d just driven about 2200 miles together and spent a solid week in each other’s constant presence) was terrifying. I unpacked all my boxes, arranged my things the way I like them, and suddenly my apartment seemed so empty, a resounding voice echoing from its blank walls, “Now what?”. This uncertainty hasn’t persisted since that first night. Perhaps it’s the initial high of discovering a new place, but I am shocked that I feel genuinely happy here.

I didn’t get the chance to see any theater this week, so I hope to make up for it next week. Diamanda Galas, a performance artist I love, has a show at the MCA, but I don’t think I can go because I’m scheduled to work. Mowr. I’d like to try to see Steppenwolf’s production of The Crucible before it closes. Gotta love that Arthur Miller (you know Haiping does). Max and his roommates and I have done some talking about the show we want to create. They’ve been funny conversations, because although Matt and Kevin are extremely creative and intelligent people, they don’t have much theater background. In our preliminary discussions, they’ve both been very focused on the need for a story going into this process. I’ve tried to explain that a story isn’t really necessary, because once we get on our feet and start playing, everything’s going to go to shit anyway. They don’t trust me, but I wouldn’t either if I were them. I think there’s a lot we can learn from each other, and I’m excited to see what comes out of this.

Last night, Rose, Max, Kevin, and I made an amazing discovery: in the basement of Max’s building, stuffed away in a dark musty corner, we found boxes and boxes of unopened mannequins! Like, very tall, very early-90’s Adonis-looking mannequins. Naturally, we each grabbed a limb, brought them upstairs, and assembled the newest edition to Max and Kevin’s kitchen, Bernice. Bernice is very gorgeous, but he stands in this very awkward pose with his right leg bent up, and his body leaning back in an almost overextended sort of way. He hold his arm out in front of himself, not only to keep his balance, but to offer an apple. Over the course of the night, Bernice got a red clown wig, purple toenails, a mustache, a yellow arm, and his crotch painted blue. My newest mission in life is to find Bernice a pair of Teva sandals and a wallet chain.

Halloween approaches, and apparently it is a very big deal in Chicago. People say this, but then I think to myself, isn’t Halloween a very big deal everywhere? Or at least, everywhere American that doesn’t think it’s the devil’s birthday, etc. I think I’m pretty much settled on going as a member of the Manson Family. I’d just have to paint a bloody ‘X’ on my forehead and call it a night.

I wanted to include a picture of the lake:

And one of the harbor by my apartment:

This shit is way long.

2007-10-14T16:57:00.000-07:00

Thus far, the coolest thing about Chicago is that this city has wild bunny rabbits. I'm serious, wild bunny rabbits! They're like squirrels in that they live in the foliage in people's yards, and so far I've only seen them at night (mostly in Max's neighborhood), but they do exist. I thought I was seeing things the first time one hopped out in front of me. I hopped behind it and tried to catch it, but it was too quick for me.

Certainly, there is much more to the city than rabbits. My apartment is in Lakeview, on the east side of the city, and happens to be about a seven minute walk from Lake Michigan. The first time I saw Lake Michigan I was stunned. I had no idea a lake could ever be so impressive. It is massive-- you can’t even see Michigan on the other side. When the winds get higher, they make enormous waves in the lake, and the water will splash over the concrete landing that borders it. It reminds me of a series of fountains shooting up in succession. I’m very impressed with the Museum of Contemporary Art. They have an exhibit right now on the copacetic relationships between rock musicians and artists that, although didn’t consistently highlight how the two can influence each other, was still interesting. They had a series of Raymond Pettibon drawings, which I’ve never seen in real life.

I’ve seen two plays thus far. The first is The Building Stage’s original production, Noir. I got in for free because Max has a job house managing for the company. The play was a compilation of noir film dialogue that had been woven together and performed to comment on the status of women in noir films. Visually, the production was very awesome. The set was inventive and the costumes and lighting made the actors look like they were in a black-and-white film. It was expertly staged, and obvious that they actors had spent a lot of time learning to physically embody noir archetypes. Aside from that, I found it flat, untruthful, and confusing (confusing in a bad way, because I like confusing theater). I felt the the directer had no idea where he was going with the piece, and then this feminist theme popped out of nowhere. It was bizarre to me that the actors didn’t invest more time into learning how to speak like noir characters, because the actors in those films have such specific vocal qualities. As a result, they looked they were half-assing it, and I couldn’t believe them as private eyes and femme fatales out of the 1930’s. This made me not care, and I wanted to, because the script was interesting and it looked so cool. The very encouraging thing about the production was that I found in reading the actors’ biographies that they all had degrees in theater, had come from far-away places, and seemed to get work in a variety of projects.

The second play I saw with Max and Rose, and is called The Magnificence by The House Theater. The company seems really cool-- they do fun, non-realistic stuff that supposedly appeals to young people. The venue was very hip, and they had a full service bar AND you were allowed to drink in the theater. The Magnificence was directed by Molly Brennan, who started 500 Clown, a company I am extremely interested in. The piece itself had some beautiful, compelling elements. There were six actors, three of whom were in red-nose clown make-up. The gist of the story was an aging magician passing on his secrets to his son. His son decides he doesn’t want to do magic anymore, runs away, and then returns as his father is on his death bead. In the end, he takes his father’s place as a great magician. The production used animated projections to depict different characters’ subconsciousness through the play. It also used a live camera to film some magic tricks done on a table and project them live. The three plain-faced clowns were interesting because one spoke English, one spoke gibberish, and one did not speak, yet they all understood each other. I thought this was an interesting way to depict family interactions. I loved the red-nosed clowns! They committed to their roles and created some funny, complex bits. I actually wish the play had been more of a clown piece that delved into the grotesque, and less sentimental. I felt bad for thinking this after the show, because apparently the playwright wrote the piece based on his grandfather’s love of magic and recent death.

I think some exciting things are in store. Last night, after the Indians defeated the Red Sox in 11 innings, I was very drunk with Max and his roommate, Kevin. Naturally, we decided to keep drinking, and crossed the street to this bar called The Elbow Room. The Max and I have talked a little about starting a theater company, but some logistical problems like performance space and funding seem unanswerable. Theeeeen last night, in out highly inebriated states, we realized that we could use the downstairs performance area at The Elbow Room! This was cause for much excitement, and we’re intending to start creating a piece. I think we have some ideas about the direction we want to go, and Max and I like the idea of using Kevin’s amazing musical creations as a jumping-off point. This is the brainstormish phase, but I’m thrilled that it all suddenly seems so logistically simple. I’ve been thinking about it all day, while hung-over and making lattes at work. I think the realization that you have the power, ability, and desire to create something is the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Hello my friends.

2007-10-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

Yes! My friends! I'm hoping some of you decided to take a glance at this. I feel like it's been much too long since I've seen most of you-- especially my fellow UCLA Tifters. I hear good things about you all through various grapevines of contact; they make me smile. I feel like this first post should be the obligatory "why I went insane and started a BLOG" kind of deal, so here's why:

I arrived in Chicago on October 1st, and I already feel that UCLA trails far behind me. It is nerve-wracking and exciting to be in a totally unfamiliar place trying to start something that resembles a career, but I feel like you're all experiencing something very similar. I want to keep in good contact, I want to know what goes on in your lives, I want feed-back from you because I trust your opinions and insight much more than my own at times. Facebook and MySpace are not enough, because I am bad at them. However, I am not bad at writing, at keeping a journal, or at talking about theater, which brings us to the base reason for this so-called BLOG: <-- don't you love these severe colons?

I want to write about and share my experiences and thoughts on theater in Chicago with you, and I want to offer this as a space for you to do the same; for open communication on life after the Tift. Even if you find you don't have much to say, it is comforting to me to know that I have a space I created with people I care about and respect in mind. Despite the self-serving nature of BLOGs, I find this a reasonable way to embrace the interconnectivness of the internet, and use its bizarre virtual nature to reinforce the human connections I know exist with all of you.

Basically, I want to use the internet to make me feel popular.

I was really just kidding with that last remark, but if you want to think of it that way, that's okay too.

Now that I've got that out of the way, I hope you'll check back, because Chicago is an amazing city, and I really do have much more interesting things to say.