Trying to manage a schizophrenic schedule is a manic dance of manipulation, constantly feeding the fire of creativity and somehow powering the passion to get past obstacles of self-doubt and the unexpected. Have I already mentioned why I write? Did I already threaten to quit this blog? Okay, forget it. I quit.
No, no...I write because I have to. I play music because it's another language I'm forced to speak. I work on plays because that's the world I can see clearly in. I write blogs...keep a journal...because it's my only chance to drill a hole and drain the mind. When I'm creative, I'm totally mindless. I guess everything else I do is a waiting game while thoughts and feelings cook and simmer...come out in colors or shapes...and the residue is what happens here. It's obsessive.
This play I'm writing right now is not only intimidating the hell out of me, it's also pulling me into the chaotic center of emotions it's naturally wrestling with. I've tried to explain this to my sister and my niece: I can't write secondary characters, or people with singular intentions and dimensions. Especially with a play like this, where the whole point is the involvement of everyone in the story, I have to map out where everyone stands and trust my emotional attachment to them. I have to embrace the hurt and confusion, and push through for the hope I'm going after. To be completely honest, I know what it can be and I know I'm the person to create it...but the difficulty lies in controlling the palette of feelings that can easily bleed through to real life.
Such is this demented world of imaginary circumstances, where I can't hide, or repress, or deflect. It's all there. If there's one thing I learned from working for the actress (who shall remain nameless for those who don't know), I have to lend myself to it, not give. There needs to be, after all, something to come back to when I'm done.
So I write because I have to. And I'll tell the story because it needs to be heard. I'll keep my commitments, and try to stay sane, and somewhere in the distance I'll have a moment to see what I've done.
(deep breath) Wish me luck. Light a candle. I'll see you on the other side.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Saturday, July 22, 2006
SPF 500 in the SFV
...and life moves past, especially when you take a moment to breathe and see who's been running with you, standing with you, quietly waiting for you to simply turn around to say "hi".
Hi. It's been weird. I've been good.
Truth to tell, I've been really good. It's funny; Last night I had a dream where I was in a tall hotel with no curtains on the windows, and outside there was a freak storm with high winds making some windows bow in and out, and the ground was repeatedly getting struck by lightning. When I went back to my room, I saw my reflection and was shocked to discover that I had long hair again. Not just long hair, mind you, but really long hair. I thought: "That's going to be hard to maintain." Somewhere off in the distance I could hear my computer calling, and I went to respond, knowing that distances mean nothing on the Internet...or in dreams....
That's when I woke up to encounter an apartment slowly baking in the sun like an adobe oven. Immediately, my thoughts were six thousand miles away, two thousand miles away, and ground zero. There I watch - in my waking dream - a girl seeking love and family, a family battling storms but waiting for a hurricane that may never come, and a whole city of individuals moving past, especially when you take a moment to breathe...and watch...and consider them.
Is it possible to miss people whom I've never met? Do people who have moved on still help us? There are no answers. There is only work to do, things to learn, and new people to meet. It is all about evolution, about constantly moving past the scenery, admiring it all along, and when you see someone stopping to catch their breath, know that they are learning something from your movement and direction.
Here's to considering them as well:
Happy birthday, Maxine
Hi. It's been weird. I've been good.
Truth to tell, I've been really good. It's funny; Last night I had a dream where I was in a tall hotel with no curtains on the windows, and outside there was a freak storm with high winds making some windows bow in and out, and the ground was repeatedly getting struck by lightning. When I went back to my room, I saw my reflection and was shocked to discover that I had long hair again. Not just long hair, mind you, but really long hair. I thought: "That's going to be hard to maintain." Somewhere off in the distance I could hear my computer calling, and I went to respond, knowing that distances mean nothing on the Internet...or in dreams....
That's when I woke up to encounter an apartment slowly baking in the sun like an adobe oven. Immediately, my thoughts were six thousand miles away, two thousand miles away, and ground zero. There I watch - in my waking dream - a girl seeking love and family, a family battling storms but waiting for a hurricane that may never come, and a whole city of individuals moving past, especially when you take a moment to breathe...and watch...and consider them.
Is it possible to miss people whom I've never met? Do people who have moved on still help us? There are no answers. There is only work to do, things to learn, and new people to meet. It is all about evolution, about constantly moving past the scenery, admiring it all along, and when you see someone stopping to catch their breath, know that they are learning something from your movement and direction.
Here's to considering them as well:
Happy birthday, Maxine
Safe journey, Robert
Godspeed, Bear
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Blog in a Bottle
I have a brief pause right now to write this - since they deemed at work that MySpace is not good for business - so I need to just get this down and then race off to work.
Well, if you know the freeway at this time of day...it's not actually racing. It's more like racing to the onramp and then parking my car on the freeway for the next hour. Yes, I should be taking the bus, but I digress.
There is so much going on right now. After just having finished the best film festival we've had in ten years (at least on the organizational side, even though half the crew were never around), I'm now standing on the hilltop of my next projects, and believe me, I'm not just talking about theatre any more. Yes, we're ramping up the rehearsals for "Shape of Things", but real life is now beginning to color the landscape.
Last night, as I sit in bed to catch up on notes for the adoption play I'm writing, I'm watching the shows I recorded and the play begins to happen. I can feel it forming, hurting in my stomach, with the loss, the confusion, the pain, and hope. I can feel it taking shape, and my obligation to it begins to grow. And then I get the email from my friend Michelle.
Years ago, when I was writing the musical, I was doing research on cancer and then I met Michelle. We knew each other before, but I caught her in a weak moment, and after spending a little time to listen to her, I found out that her brother had a severe case of colon cancer. Stage Four. We talked about what is being done medically, and then when we got past that, we talked about validating the existence of his life. She was determined to beat the cancer, and I, having just lost two friends to cancer at that time, was as supportive as I could be. We became very close friends while we worked together. The news came after she left that he had beat the cancer, and that was just...an unbelievable feeling. They had parties. I felt like we were beginning a brand new time, one in which we could finally fight it, and that if there was a chance for me to raise awareness, raise funds, now is especially the time to do it.
Last night, her email came after a long time of not hearing from her. On Monday night, the 17th of July, he lost the battle after two months of a resurgence, and I hated that cancer for fading and giving us hope again. The only great thing is that his life after beating it the first time was like a second life, when he got all the love and support that he would, in the end, need for his transition to wherever we go when we die. As much as I damn the cancer, I would love a second chance to reconnect with my family before I go.
In the end, he wins because of that second chance, and cancer can't reach him any more. It can't wither him away, it can't hurt him, it can't change the way he looks, making his family and friends suffer.
This Friday is Maxine Carnegie's birthday. She died of breast cancer shortly before I premiered my musical two years ago. I'm going to take her some flowers and ask her to watch over my friend's brother, and then I'm going to call my father and not talk about our argument a few weeks ago. It's been two weeks since I lost another friend to an auto accident, so I'm going to continue to validate my own life and not necessarily make work the main priority in my life. How will I be remembered if I only have a resume and a list of plays to leave behind?
That is the question. I'm an artist for very specific reasons, but the main reason has to be the celebration of life as we have it. There are so many distractions in this world, in this city, and it's hard to recognize where the fertile ground is. I'm going to try to pay attention, and give time to people who ask for it.
We are here for each other, not for ourselves. That's what I'm going to go on.
Well, if you know the freeway at this time of day...it's not actually racing. It's more like racing to the onramp and then parking my car on the freeway for the next hour. Yes, I should be taking the bus, but I digress.
There is so much going on right now. After just having finished the best film festival we've had in ten years (at least on the organizational side, even though half the crew were never around), I'm now standing on the hilltop of my next projects, and believe me, I'm not just talking about theatre any more. Yes, we're ramping up the rehearsals for "Shape of Things", but real life is now beginning to color the landscape.
Last night, as I sit in bed to catch up on notes for the adoption play I'm writing, I'm watching the shows I recorded and the play begins to happen. I can feel it forming, hurting in my stomach, with the loss, the confusion, the pain, and hope. I can feel it taking shape, and my obligation to it begins to grow. And then I get the email from my friend Michelle.
Years ago, when I was writing the musical, I was doing research on cancer and then I met Michelle. We knew each other before, but I caught her in a weak moment, and after spending a little time to listen to her, I found out that her brother had a severe case of colon cancer. Stage Four. We talked about what is being done medically, and then when we got past that, we talked about validating the existence of his life. She was determined to beat the cancer, and I, having just lost two friends to cancer at that time, was as supportive as I could be. We became very close friends while we worked together. The news came after she left that he had beat the cancer, and that was just...an unbelievable feeling. They had parties. I felt like we were beginning a brand new time, one in which we could finally fight it, and that if there was a chance for me to raise awareness, raise funds, now is especially the time to do it.
Last night, her email came after a long time of not hearing from her. On Monday night, the 17th of July, he lost the battle after two months of a resurgence, and I hated that cancer for fading and giving us hope again. The only great thing is that his life after beating it the first time was like a second life, when he got all the love and support that he would, in the end, need for his transition to wherever we go when we die. As much as I damn the cancer, I would love a second chance to reconnect with my family before I go.
In the end, he wins because of that second chance, and cancer can't reach him any more. It can't wither him away, it can't hurt him, it can't change the way he looks, making his family and friends suffer.
This Friday is Maxine Carnegie's birthday. She died of breast cancer shortly before I premiered my musical two years ago. I'm going to take her some flowers and ask her to watch over my friend's brother, and then I'm going to call my father and not talk about our argument a few weeks ago. It's been two weeks since I lost another friend to an auto accident, so I'm going to continue to validate my own life and not necessarily make work the main priority in my life. How will I be remembered if I only have a resume and a list of plays to leave behind?
That is the question. I'm an artist for very specific reasons, but the main reason has to be the celebration of life as we have it. There are so many distractions in this world, in this city, and it's hard to recognize where the fertile ground is. I'm going to try to pay attention, and give time to people who ask for it.
We are here for each other, not for ourselves. That's what I'm going to go on.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Scaling Back
What a strange week.
I'm sitting here, leaning against commitments, ready to take on a weekend of creative work and relieved I have the past ten days or so behind me. I'm exercising the usual mind dump into this blog so I can use that extra space and energy to brainstorm, but for the sake of posterity....
I've been to the gym 3 times a week for two weeks now, levelling off exactly where I am right now at 195 pounds. My mission, through exercise and continued attention to the food I eat, will be to reach 175, which is crazy but not impossible. I can feel my body changing, but I can't see myself going to the extreme of holding a magnifying glass to the kinds of food I eat and when I eat them. I just want to make sure they're healthy for now. I'm not going to be fanatic, especially to the point where I preach to someone else that the food they're eating is bad for them. I don't get the heavily cheesed nachos and condiment violated fries I saw before the fireworks on the 4th of July, but that's their business...and their belt notchers...their blood pressure...you get the idea.
As for me, I'm happy about the fact that despite things that are completely out of my control, I've been able to weave past distractions and manage...I use that word carefully...manage my schedule. Of course, I have help. Oh, and of course, I have some good friends.
The end of this difficult, strangely shaped week, has come to this: a crossroad from where I can look at my three major projects in relation to all of the changes in my life. Wait! FOUR major projects. (pause for awareness) I don't know if I can really do any one of those things, but what I'm banking on is that I really have my doubts that I can't do any of them, so I believe - as always - that the odds are with me.
To think, all of this, this struggle and journey towards my future will in the end add up to fewer lines than any name in the Spoon River Anthology. That's why the journey matters. That's why the failures and mistakes always flake off and fall to the side for want of the gilded successes and triumphs. Whether or not anyone else can immediately see the world from my perspective is kind of moot; That's why I believe I'm an artist.
So enough about me. Where are you standing right now?
I'm sitting here, leaning against commitments, ready to take on a weekend of creative work and relieved I have the past ten days or so behind me. I'm exercising the usual mind dump into this blog so I can use that extra space and energy to brainstorm, but for the sake of posterity....
I've been to the gym 3 times a week for two weeks now, levelling off exactly where I am right now at 195 pounds. My mission, through exercise and continued attention to the food I eat, will be to reach 175, which is crazy but not impossible. I can feel my body changing, but I can't see myself going to the extreme of holding a magnifying glass to the kinds of food I eat and when I eat them. I just want to make sure they're healthy for now. I'm not going to be fanatic, especially to the point where I preach to someone else that the food they're eating is bad for them. I don't get the heavily cheesed nachos and condiment violated fries I saw before the fireworks on the 4th of July, but that's their business...and their belt notchers...their blood pressure...you get the idea.
As for me, I'm happy about the fact that despite things that are completely out of my control, I've been able to weave past distractions and manage...I use that word carefully...manage my schedule. Of course, I have help. Oh, and of course, I have some good friends.
The end of this difficult, strangely shaped week, has come to this: a crossroad from where I can look at my three major projects in relation to all of the changes in my life. Wait! FOUR major projects. (pause for awareness) I don't know if I can really do any one of those things, but what I'm banking on is that I really have my doubts that I can't do any of them, so I believe - as always - that the odds are with me.
To think, all of this, this struggle and journey towards my future will in the end add up to fewer lines than any name in the Spoon River Anthology. That's why the journey matters. That's why the failures and mistakes always flake off and fall to the side for want of the gilded successes and triumphs. Whether or not anyone else can immediately see the world from my perspective is kind of moot; That's why I believe I'm an artist.
So enough about me. Where are you standing right now?
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