Material Things

I was flying high today.

61 degrees today. In January. Phil and I both had the day off for the first time since before Christmas. We had a great night last night. We went shopping at IKEA for the first time. We got some really wonderful things to add to our new home together.

happyhappyhappy.

But then when I got home I discovered that a package my parents had sent to me which I had lazily left at the foot of the stairs earlier was gone. Someone took it. But the problem is that in the package was something very dear to my heart. Completely worthless to any other person, but to me it was very precious. Ok... this is embarrassing. It was a stuffed animal. I left him in Arkansas when I visited. I always sleep with him still... My boob tickles, ok! Anyway, I left him at the bottom of the stairs and some fucking greedy bastard took a package thinking it might be worth something. I'll probably never see him again. I am very sad.

He's probably in a garbage can somewhere right now.

I know it's just an inanimate object. It's strange that I have such stong feelings over cotton stuffing and man-made fabric. I could walk into any Toys R Us and find the exact same raccoon doll today. Only it wouldn't be all flat and dingy like Toby.... his name was Toby. And I loved him.... And I know it's stupid, but still I'm full of grief. I don't think Phil really understood.

Then, I got that new job I've been waiting to hear from for over a month. So, thankfully I can quit my current job which makes me miserable. Now I'm an educator and program designer for the Notebart Nature Museum. Whew.

Then, I went down the stairs to search the dumpsters for Toby. Not only was he not there, but I twisted my ankle at the bottom of the stairs.

But right now, I feel ok. Except the sadness over Toby. My house is spic and span, Phil and I added some new beautiful additions to the apt, I got that job...
And people care about me. I got some very nice messages and comments on that Boo Hoo blog I wrote (that this one is very similar too...) Thank you to all my friends and family that make me feel fulfilled and supported and loved.

But I still miss Toby... Who steals mail??? I fucking hate thieves. In fact, I have another blog about thieves... Fucking thieves...

What a rollercoaster today was.

Boo Hoo

Darwin did not poop or pee in the apartment today. I think. 

That's good news. Both Phil and I had to work all day, and he didn't get to go out for 10 hours. 

I hate my job.

See, I not only find my job agonizingly boring and dragging (even when we have thousands of people visit like they have been for the holidays), but I also find my superiors annoyingly political, lazy, and power hungry. And disrespectful. I'm not going to get into the whys because that would bore you. Just know that it is a horror to work everyday. The people on my level are mostly cool, but we aren't allowed to "congregate" or talk to each other... It's like Big Brother.

I had an audition last night. I haven't had one in a couple months. I am getting new headshots on Wednesday, so I wanted to wait for those, but last night sounded like an interesting opportunity. Some short film, no pay, about lesbians and the show My So-Called Life. Anyway, I went and I... well... I think I sucked. Like really bad. Not that it really matters or anything that my performance was off for some gradstudent with wiccan eye makeup, but it was a very unsettling feeling of not knowing what I was doing. Like I was out of practice. I couldn't stop listening to myself, and I didn't sound like myself talking. I sounded like I was acting talking. You know what I mean? And I couldn't stop. I really tried to just focus on the other person talking, and react to what she was saying/doing. I couldn't. No solution here or anything. Just an uncomfortable ackowlegdement.

Did I mention I hate my job? Hopefully getting a new one next week...

I have good days here in Chicago. Sometimes. I have ok days a lot. And then I have some bad days. I love and hate public transportation. I love and hate all of the crazy people I meet. I had a great time at a party the other night with my friend Rhea. Free food and booze! It was pretty great.  I love the food/bar scene here. My apartment and my neighborhood are great. I love it when my family comes to visit, and my friends.  The weather here... you learn to deal. But I am scared scared scared that I'm not cut out for this thing I have been determined to do. And last night really made me wonder if I'm ready. If I'm not now, then what can I do about it? Go to grad school? I just don't want to right now.  Should I audition for AR Shakes? It probably won't be as great as last year with the pay dropping and all... Should I spoil that wonderful memory from before? 

Trying to act is hard. Just like everyone says. And some days I just don't want to try.

The Sparrow

I saw a remarkable play this weekend.   It's an original play by this AMAZING company called The House Theatre. It was the mose innovative, ingenious, and moving play I have ever seen. In my entire life. I have seen quite a lot of plays too! I wish I could go into depth about the directing choices that made it unique and captivating and the set design that BLEW my mind. Not because of its amazing tricks or largeness but because of its utter simplicity. Plus they used video! In a way I never imagined. Through this play I saw more possibilities than I ever thought possible on a stage. WOW. In the end, I was sobbing and smitten and totally changed.

The story of the company is almost the best part.  The founding members all either went to undergrad together in Texas or knew those people through other workshops. This is only their 5th season, and they are making a huge name for themselves. They write all of their own plays, and they always include music and dance, but nothing is conventional about the way they do this. Check out their website: http://www.thehousetheatre.com/about

Ian and Nathan, I think you would be totally inspired by these people.

Chad, I wish we could ever make something like they are making.

Oh, just a blog

The wind was calm today. Balmy breezy. Brooke and Dad looked happy framed by large autumn trees. Darwin made us all laugh with his puppy antics.

It was a great weekend. I couldn't imagine it being better.

Tomorrow its back to work at the Chicago Children's Museum. I'm tolerating the job. It's fun sometimes, but mostly boring. I do love museums though. Apparently I get into all of them in the city for free now. With guests. Wanna go?

Its dark and chilly outside now.

To walk down an alley alone
Crunching on an old rat bone
I shiver and dig in deeper
Brush past the viney creeper
Barreling stiffly ahead
Appearing morose, full of dread
Millions of people marching coldly on
Night after day, day after dawn
My piggy bank's broken and brittle
There's an empty ache in my middle
My dreams are fading
I'm wimpishly waiting
This Chicago isn't forgiving
But I guess that's risky living.

Despite that being decidely dark, I am in a wonderful mood. This city is great, and I am having a great time living here. Phil and I are really, really lucky. My parents are helping me out a lot. Thanks Dad!

Nothin' Profound er Nothin'...

So, now I live in Chicago, in case you haven't got the mem-o.

My thoughts:

1. Public transportation is still really fun as of now. I wonder when that will change...
2. I would really like a stable job. Preferably with health benefits. Aren't I a pussy?
3. The Planetarium SUUUUCKS. Super boring. However, all the other museums I have visited are cool as fuck.
4. My neighborhood is super gay. Now, I don't mean gay as a synonym for stupid, I mean everyone and everything is gay or the more PC term GLBT (gay, lesbian, bi, trans).
5. It is chilly.
6. My apartment is the greatest thing. I really like it. I really want to fill it with rugs and furniture and stuff.
7. Phil and I are getting along swimmingly.
8. Darwin is very confused, but handling it well. He poops with his leg hiked.
9. Fun, fun, fun to live here. 
10. I really, really need to get a job. I'm working on it though!
11. Break out.
12. I sincerely want everyone to visit. I want to show off my new digs, my new city. Life.
13. I'm learning a lot.
14. My super is a crazy old Slavik guy.
16. I skipped 15.


Call me. 501-902-2867. ;)

ME me ME

So.

This summer has been really great. I was involved in the AR Shakes Festival, I helped produce the first project for the nonprofit I helped start, I taught kids about pirates and crime-solving, and I spent a lot of great time with my friends and family. I would hesitate to say this was the best summer of my life. Yes, even better than summer '05 which was a drunken love fest and also awesome.

Now.

The rumors are true. I am moving to Chicago in two weeks time. Yep, I already signed a lease and everything.  I'm taking my boys, Phil and Darwin, along for the ride. This is my address:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=728+W+Roscoe+Apt+3W+Chicago+IL+60657&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=32.610437,59.765625&ie=UTF8&ll=41.944282,-87.648261&spn=0.007469,0.014591&z=16&iwloc=addr&om=1

Of course, friends, you are all welcome to come and crash on our couch sometime. I am afraid I might get lonely, and I will welcome your company. However, to stave off the lonliness, I can walk down the street literally two blocks to Doug and Michelle's new apartment. It rocks. The neighborhood rocks. Our apartment rocks. Life pretty much is awesome right now.

So, I'm worried.

I'm fucking freaking out, man.  I guess I'm moving up there to pursue my dreams, and I walk down the street and see all the people and the theatres, and I hear kids behind me talking about how long they have been acting to one another. I fear failure. It's kind of suffocating me right now. I don't even want to do the stuff I know I need to do to get ready here, because I know that there it will be really hard there. And I know that it's good that it's hard because I don't want to live a boring, easy life... but right now I'm just hearing the lazy, scared voice trying to convince me that it would be easier--better--- to work at a museum the rest of my life.

So there's that.

Then, I get home all tired and worried, and just needing some alone time to get my head straightened out, and my mom calls. My uncle's dead. Which is surprising since he wasn't ill. Now, we weren't terribly close at all. However, I was fond of the guy. Last time I saw him he came for the the first time to see me act at Midsummer. It was really sweet. He got my autograph.... plus, he died alone in a hotel room (he was traveling for work). That's just really sad to me. I know it's good that he died in his sleep quickly, but I'm just sad about the alone in a hotel room part. Then, I'm really sad for my aunt and my cousins, and most of all my dad. It was his brother. He's taking it ok though. As best you could.

Death. Mortatlity. Family. 

These are the things I am fixated on now; on top of everything else.  Uncle Richard was healthy, attractive, even jolly. Now, he's dead. Out of the blue. I could die too, I guess. So, I better go pursue my dreams like the cliche says: like it's my last day.  But even worse, someone I love could just up and die. And what's worse, they will. I mean, it's fucking inevitable. And I love them... that's sad...

So. 

What to do? How to I shake this melancholy? How do I get inspired, and appreciate life and adventure and love?

Also.

My dog is very frustrating. He lunged at some woman at a garage sale today. It sucked.

Wild Blackberry Summer

Yesterday I took part in one of the old pastimes of summer, picking wild blackberries.  Kyle and I drove to Maumelle and turned into the beautifully manicured neighborhood of our friend Emily. She hopped in the car, and said the expected words "we can drive there." I knew there were no wild blackberry bushes in this bourgeoisie paradise. But then we drove a couple of blocks and parked in front of a paved bike and walking trail. "So, this is the neighborhood's blackberry trail?" I asked. She said pretty much, and we began winding down the trail between houses. I had brought a large bucket for picking, and when we arrived at the first "bush" I knew I'd leave with a light load. It was just into the woods, right off of the path, in view of at least 10 houses. We probably got 7 or 8 berries.  In this huge neighborhood, I imagined there must be at least enough enterprising souls to keep these blackberry bushes pretty clean. After a ways, we struck what I thought was the jackpot, though. Deep into the thicket was a huge bush covered in ripe berries. We spent quite a while cleaning every fresh n' ready fruit in sight.  The thorns were ripping at my bare arms, the sun was beating down on my skin, and sweat was running down my face, but all of these adversities made me value the tiny treasures even more. 

Isn't it crazy, really crazy, that the earth actually naturally grows edible treats by no human encouraging or intervention?  Isn't it odd that most people have never picked their own food?  Here I was, in the middle of waist high thorns, sweating waterfalls, for free berries, and enjoying every second of it.  Honestly, what a pleasure it is to work for your own food!

Next we walked down a dirt road next to some railroad tracks. It was lined with bush after bush of heavy berries.  Why had no one picked these?  Did no one know they were here, or were they just not willing to put the effort into picking them?  I was glad either way. More berries for me!  

Emily wandered into the woods and returned with a palm full of huckleberries. I asked if she was sure whether or not they weren't poisonous. She assured that they weren't and urged me to try them. They were tiny and black. I hesitantly bit into them, and happily agreed that they were wonderful.  

Where was I? Not the place, but the time.  It felt as if I had gone back in time 75 years to a place without airconditioning. A place where grandma canned food for the winter, and made huckleberry pie. A rumbling noise grew in the distance, and a train slowly roared by. Flies buzzed around my head, and heat waves distorted the distant road ahead. This was life. Raw and wild. And real. And southern.  

We picked 12 cups of blackberries, which is like 5 lbs.  We eventually grew tired of the heat, and with our half full bucket, empty water bottles, and my head full of thoughts we wandered back to the car. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that there are grocery stores and farms to provide me with my every desire. But... it means so much more to work for your food. You really appreciate the sweet flavor of the good berries, and you don't freak out when you eat one that doesn't look quite perfect because they sometimes taste the best. And to just share the bounty of the earth with the people you love...  that's what summer should be about.