Honk Honk

http://www.nosetonose.info/articles/jbarticle.htm

A wonderful article about clowning.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;



Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,



And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.



I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

                                               Robert Frost

This poem has always stood for me as a kind of mortar to the bricks that built the way that I thought about my future.  I am, and always have been, a bit a risk-lover. This poem suggests, on the surface, that were I to take a less common route in life that I would end up happier, wiser, and better. And indeed, this could be true. How should I know? 

There is another interpretation of this poem. And quite disappointingly to me, this interpretation is favored by critics to be the intention of Frost. Reportedly, the poem is instead about regret and personal myth-making, rationalizing our decisions.  In this interpretation, the final two lines:

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

are ironic – the choice made little or no difference at all, the
speaker's protestations to the contrary. The narrator admits in the
second and third stanzas that both paths may be equally worn and
equally leaf-covered, and it is only in his future recollection that he
will call one road "less traveled by."

Is this possibly the real case in life? Supposing that no matter what path we take in life, we'll end up in the same place or at least the same state of mind? That conclusion relies heavily on predetermined fate, and I don't know if I believe in fate... or do I? I always say, everything happens for a reason, and when something bad happens to me, I always console myself with karma. Will life end up the same no matter what? If so, why the hell would I ever take the rocky path even if the view on the way is a spectacular bluff? I may as well save myself the twisted ankle and sore muscles, and take the well-trodden path. After all, the meadows and sparkling creeks are very pleasant.

But I'm still missing the mark. Really what Frost is doing is just making fun of a bunch of old farts who like to talk about how they made glorious decisions that made them who they are. Well, what if I actually make a glorious decision??  I mean, making any decision is hard for me. If you've ever read that first play I wrote, Quirks, that main character, Indecisive Anne--- that's me. I seriously stood in Whole Foods last night agonizing over a fucking cupcake or a piece of pie.

What I mean to say is... I'm at a fork. I feel like I'm always at a goddamn fork, and I know I do it to myself! But I've already been walking for a while, and I'm tired. Honestly I feel a bit like taking the easy path just now. All that shade and company. It would be so nice to share the burden of all of my baggage with fellow travelers.

But something inside of me is burning. It's this desire to make the hard choices, so that in the end, I will have all the difference. And then my life will have been great. And I will sigh. But not with regret! With satisfaction. I hope. I really really hope. 

Besides, I'll always have my number one partner. And that bluff is supposed to be spectacular...



I hope I get in.

Life Update: Where I am Now

First of all, Happy Halloween. Today, I am depressed.

Life in Chicago has been chugging along pretty steadily upward. It was really tough for a while because Phil and I were struggling to pay the bills and didn't have very many friends. I auditioned and auditioned with no success, sometime putting myself into compromising situations. When I got my full-time job at the Nature Museum things started picking up. I've made great friends now, I love(d) my job, I am gaining footing so that I have more flexibility to pursue my passion, and I have started taking some really great classes and forging connections with new theatre people that I really respect. I have had to really assess my desire to be an artist this year because I have finally had to face the reality of "the biz."  However many times I have descended to giving up my dreams, I step back up with a new perspective. I have become really selective about who and what I audition for, and though that doesn't mean I am more successful, it does mean that I am no longer being treated like an fool that doesn't deserve to be respected. Most of the time...

My job laid off 30% of its staff this month. Some really good friends of mine were abruptly sent packing, and it has been a hard road with out them. My baby, my brand-new all-mine early childhood program that I (with help from my colleagues) birthed and raised to a very successful level was cancelled yesterday. Now, my job is kinda empty. The program was really hard at times, and part of me is relieved. But I know that we are just getting jerked around by this crazy, self-absorbed lady with a vision and a passion for advancing the careers of her friends. I had an interview with the Shedd Aquarium this morning. Very informal. I don't know if it's going to go anywhere. I am not even sure I want the position, but I need to pay the bills. My job isn't very stable right now.

Perhaps this is for the best though. I could have easily seen myself staying at the Nature Museum for years. Now, with the help of some recent inspirational classes, I feel the push to pursue what I really want. And I finally think I know what the next step is to achieve that. 

I have decided, for sure, that I want to go the grad school for an MFA in Acting. I want to do this so that I can either start my own company after graduation that creates the kind of theatre that I think is the ultimate OR so that I can be an acting professor for a school. I know that's what I want. I mean, I have even been thinking about what my lesson plans would be. I am an incredible teacher, and I want the support and freedom to create. And I want to share with people the theraputic, uplifting, amazing feeling that is acting with truth. But I also really want to work with an ensemble of people that I respect to make art that is relevant and truthful and magical. 

So, I need to go back to school. Which i didn't even realize for sure that I would ever do until like, now. Because now I am sure. For sure.

So, now I'm totally FREAKED out because it is fucking hard to get into grad school. And my confidence is way low because I never get jobs here.  But I know that I stand out in my classes, so I know it's possible. But I am scaaaaaaared. I really, really, really wanna get my degree in physical theatre. It's something I am really passionate about. I want to go to Dell'Arte in Blue Lake, CA the most. It's a really new program, and it's in some crazy rural town, but it's curriculum is absolutely dreamy. Obviously, I want to go to a great school though, so I'm going to pursue the best of the best. (Damn I'm scared)

That clown class + the fact that my job is collapsing has really pushed me to do this. I have just really learned lately that life is for living to the fullest, and that means doing what you would kill to do. 

As a side note, I was tired of compromising my appearance for acting when I never get work anyway, so I got a tattoo... on my arm.  Now, I'm freaking out because it was really impulsive and now its there forever. I mean, I love it, but holy shit! I am actress! Whatever, it's who I am and I want to live life truly living it. Experiencing what I am passionate about.

So, that's what's up with me. Phil and I are doing great, and we're in this together thank god. Our anniversary is Monday. Three years! I love you guys who read this. You're my friends/family and you mean a lot to me.

My Nose is Stuffy! Yay!

My nose is a little stuffy.

Not because I have a cold-- because I got hit in the face really hard. With someone else's face.

So, I started my clown class. Literally everyone I have talked to has told me it is amazing. Well, everyone that has taken it.

I feel like I am already changed. I think it's going to change my life. And I said that before I even started, so its not just the after-class high or anything.  My life will be changed.

I want to live my life as the eternal student. With someone else in charge, and myself allowed to not know and know at the same time forever.

Being in charge of oneself is an uncomfortable thing. 

I am a little drunk right now.

If you are an actor, and you're wondering where to go in life (that is likely many of my friends), I recommend this class. 

I am going to fail, and for once, that is succeeding.

Process over Product. Process over Product. Process over Product. (My life motto-- I just have to work so hard to live by it)

Good Ol' Charlie

Number 1

Number 2

Early Summer Haikus

The fourth of July
cold wind seeps under the door
flourescents blind me

lunchtime on the dock
peanut butter and jelly
ducks waiting for crumbs

Independence Day
sitting with Phil in the grass
cool breeze through my hair

seagulls fly overhead
adapted to look for fish
now find lost french fries

chilly starlit-night
spent swaying on the el train
Phil's arm 'round my back

fingers stained purple;
mulberries are such a joy
when picked on lunch break

after party blues:
sexist men so cruelly tease
while boyfriends chuckle

a dull cloudy day
is so judgemental of my
pizza greasy hands

The Duckling

It has just become spring in Chicago in the past two weeks. Where I work there is a large park with a large pond called the North Pond.  Lots of animals live in and around the pond, especially birds. So when I heard that all of the ducks have little ducklings right now, I had to see them for myself. 

After work yesterday, I wove through the pond side dirt path with a cool breeze blowing my hair in face watching for a tiny duck or two. I finally spotted a mother duck with tons of tiny companions, but they were all the way across the pond. How I longed for a pair of the crappy kid's binoculars we have in the museum! I was watching their tiny figures dart across the water, while staying safely close to their mama, when I heard a rustle behind me. A small, strange bird stood there with a huge worm hanging out of its mouth. Now, I had been learning a lot of new birds lately, but this was a kind I had never seen before. Then I realized - duh, this was a duckling! But where was its mother?

I scanned the edge of the pond near me, but I didn't see a single brown duck. I turned to look at the duckling. It seemed unconcerned with me, or the the fact that its mother was nowhere in sight, but rather intensely concerned with the worm. It slowly, head jerk by head jerk managed to comsume bits of the worm. Before it could shove the whole invertibrate down, a male squirrel spotted its tasty fair and wanted a bite. As I watched, it crept closer, eyeing the treat. I felt protective of the little ducky, so I said to the squirrel, "Hey now, buster. Shove off!" He eyed me stoically before moving closer to the little duck. "No, sir!" I said more firmly, scooting close. The squirrel didn't budge, but the duck did. It moved into the shallow water to finish its snack. The squirrel persued it. Finally, I had to kick my foot at the squirrel to chase it off. It eyed me thoughtfully, hoping that maybe I, like many of the other human visitors here, had a bit of food to spare. When it realized that not only did I not have any food, but that I found its presence near my little duckling (when had it become mine?) offensive, it scittered off. 

My duckling had finally finished its worm, and just in time! A mother duckling with eleven little duckies was making here way to the duck. The tiny birds shot forward in the water when they spotted a bug or bit of plant. They were so fast and so small! In fact, too small. They didn't look at all like my little duck... They had a prettier pattern on their fuzzy feathers, and were only 2/3s its size. They were wood ducks, while my duckling was a mallard. I wondered if the mother wood duck would care about the difference and stupidly accept its presence as just another baby bird. As I finished the thought, the wood duck open her beak and lunged! My duckling didn't see it coming! She bit his butt, and he quickly swam south.

The squirrel, the wood duck-- I was beginning to feel more and more responsible for protecting this duck. After this much happening to it already, what else might happen to it before it reunites with its parents? I briefly considered catching it, and raising it or giving it to the animal techs at the museum. But no... perhaps I should just let nature work itself out. Why am I responsible for this duck? Natural selection says that if it is stupid enough to wander away from its protective mother, then its genes should be cut off from procreation. But already I have grown to involved to just walk away. At what point should one make the decision to step into someone else's problem and make it their own? I don't have an answer yet. Perhaps a good person doesn't have to ask themselves, they simply dive in, willing to shoulder whatever consequences there may be. But then Iraq comes to mind, and Bush was not "good" to step into that problem. But I digress...

I followed the duck as it swam toward the southern edge of the pond. At this point I was desperately hoping that the mother would show up and end my dilema, so I followed from just close enough to see the duckling. Two male ducks apathetically observed the duckling swim by. It wandered out of the pond again and up a hill. When it started to wander on the bike path, I felt the need to protect it again. I herded it into some bushes where if found yet another huge worm. Who knew there were so many worms by the pond!  As I stood awkwardly on the trail, I'm sure seeming to the people walking by like a total weirdo, the duck ate its worm. It took what seemed like five minutes. I was ready to go home, but the duckling was anchoring me there. If I left, I would be unable to think of anything else, thinking of all the horrible fates that must have befallen my duckling. I searched the water for a female mallard. No such luck. Finally, I noticed a mother and daughter following something in the water. A female mallard! And a male one, and even better, one lone duckling. I eagerly began herding the little duck down to the shore. It's cries of alarm were so quiet I wondered why it even bothered. Once I got it into the water, I realized that this duck too may attack my duckling if she thinks it isn't hers. But the family of ducks is already approaching, and my duck has spotted them too.

My duckling lazily begins swimming towards them, and the family of ducks continues towards us just as lazily. I'm on the edge, wishing fervently that this will work out. When they meet, the mother seems unconcerned. Her duckling doesn't even notice its new rival. I watch for a moment as my duckling swims next to her. Things seem fine. I am elated! I even turn my back and begin walking away. As I look back one more time, I see the male mallard watching my duckling. Will he act like the mother wood duck? The mother mallard opens her beak at him and swims between the duckling and him. Whether that was her duck or not, she seemed determined to accept and protect him, and for that I was incredibly grateful.

Maybe the duckling wandered out looking for worms again, maybe the daddy duck finally drove my duckling off, or maybe I actually reunited a mother and child. I don't know. But the experience was moving, and made me question my involvement in the events of the world. When do you help? And when do you stand by and let the fates take their course?