I don't really know what comes next,
For you or for me.
This grand adventure is forking,
You going left, I'm staying right.
Why do I feel like this is
As far as I get to go?
My feet seem planted on this
Patch of sinking ground,
Yours quickly carrying you forward.
But sometimes you stop,
As if frozen in thought,
To look back,
As if you forgot to say something,
But can't remember what it was.
All my heart can think to say is
"Wait! Come back!"
But my brain stops me.
My inability to move from this spot
Should not quench your desire
To start your next adventure.
Slowly your image fades into the
Horizon you're walking into.
I'm left standing here,
Feet not knowing what to do.
Going forward to the left is impossible --
That's your path, not mine.
Going back seems easiest --
But you're not going with me,
So what's the point?
Why are the most logical of options
The ones that scare me the most?
My adventure is waiting for me down that path,
But nothing in the world can get me to budge
From where I've planted myself.
Adventures don't seem so exciting
when I'm alone.
As you disappear from view,
I look around.
Knowing no other option,
I slowly walk right,
Keeping my eyes on the left.
Though it seems wrong to go without you,
It seems worse to not go at all.
My friend Hannah and I have been writing 10 minute poems together since last semester. On Wednesday when I wrote this one, she asked if I wrote about certain people. I told her sometimes, but most of the time I write about feelings I've been having lately and personify them into one person. This poem, however, is about her. I think she knew that.
So Hannah, my sister from another mustache, you are going left. Oman is an awfully big adventure, and I know it will be life changing. I'm so excited for you, even if it means going a semester without seeing you. I'm going to try and keep going right.
Until next time, to the King!
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Popping Bubbles
I have returned to my Northwestern bubble, where homework is required and theatre people are a minority. But I have decided being content in this bubble is the last thing I want to fall back into. I have been living here for seven semesters, it's time for this bubble to be popped.
On the van ride home, I made a list of all the things I need to keep in mind so that my bubble doesn't reform around me:
- Find the good in every piece of art you see, even if you have to look harder to see it.
- Dance your pants off once in awhile - let yourself go!
- You can't hold everyone to the same standards, whether it be in art, lifestyle, or ideals.
- Bottle caps make kick-butt jewelry.
- Be open to letting people back into the circle. Everyone needs a second chance.
- Don't try and make all theatre fit into the same standards - not everything fits in the box!
- Creating is the highest form of praise to my God.
- THEATRE IS MY PASSION.
These apply mainly to making sure my theatre department bubble, but I think they can work for pretty much every part of my life. I love where I live, and I wouldn't go anywhere else right now, but sometimes it's far too easy to forget the world outside of NWC. There is so much more out there.
Until next time, pop a bubble.
On the van ride home, I made a list of all the things I need to keep in mind so that my bubble doesn't reform around me:
- Find the good in every piece of art you see, even if you have to look harder to see it.
- Dance your pants off once in awhile - let yourself go!
- You can't hold everyone to the same standards, whether it be in art, lifestyle, or ideals.
- Bottle caps make kick-butt jewelry.
- Be open to letting people back into the circle. Everyone needs a second chance.
- Don't try and make all theatre fit into the same standards - not everything fits in the box!
- Creating is the highest form of praise to my God.
- THEATRE IS MY PASSION.
These apply mainly to making sure my theatre department bubble, but I think they can work for pretty much every part of my life. I love where I live, and I wouldn't go anywhere else right now, but sometimes it's far too easy to forget the world outside of NWC. There is so much more out there.
Until next time, pop a bubble.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Festival Frenzy
Will someone please get me the name of the man/woman/committee in charge of choosing the plays that are read/performed at the American College Theatre Festival for Region 5? I have some questions for them. The main one being...
What the world?
Two days into our week long adventure that is ACTF. Two days of auditions, acting competitions, design exhibits, stage hand show downs, work shops, staged readings, and performances. I have made jewelry out of metal lids and bottle caps. I went to a workshop for playwrights talking about dialogue. I have sat through some really mediocre staged readings of student written plays, one that was pretty good, and one that was excellent. I got to spend a couple hours wondering through the design exhibit, getting to see techies showing off their skills. And best of all, I've had some really good conversations with some really great theatre people. That is what ACTF is about.
But that doesn't mean I don't have questions:
1. Who picks what comes and what doesn't? Is it one person or a panel? And what are the criteria? There were some one-acts written in my class that were better than what we watched tonight.
2. Why are we not encouraged to submit our stuff more? We know there are options, but we aren't really told what they are. As college students we should be able to figure it out, but some times a little bit of a push is good.
3. Why do professors who come and give workshops think that we want to sit in a lecture for over an hour? We got out of classes for the week, let us do something in your session other than take notes!
4. Why did they choose to hold the festival somewhere there isn't enough room for everyone to fit into one auditorium? It's Iowa State, for Pete's sake! There has to be somewhere we'll all fit!
5. Why do they hold two sessions for playwrights at the exact same time? Put something there that doesn't have the same interest base.
6. Why is it so popular to satirize the church? Sure, we have a history of making fools of ourselves, but so does every other people group in the world. Do we really need eighteen plays about skin deep, fake Christians?
I'm sure there are more questions. They always arise. I think ACTF is really, really good for that. We are given the chance to see things very different from what we do at NWC, given the chance to look at them from very different perspectives, and are able to learn and grow from them. It is great, and exhausting.
I just hope tomorrow's plays are better than what we've seen so far...
Until next time, ask a few questions. It never hurts to ask.
What the world?
Two days into our week long adventure that is ACTF. Two days of auditions, acting competitions, design exhibits, stage hand show downs, work shops, staged readings, and performances. I have made jewelry out of metal lids and bottle caps. I went to a workshop for playwrights talking about dialogue. I have sat through some really mediocre staged readings of student written plays, one that was pretty good, and one that was excellent. I got to spend a couple hours wondering through the design exhibit, getting to see techies showing off their skills. And best of all, I've had some really good conversations with some really great theatre people. That is what ACTF is about.
But that doesn't mean I don't have questions:
1. Who picks what comes and what doesn't? Is it one person or a panel? And what are the criteria? There were some one-acts written in my class that were better than what we watched tonight.
2. Why are we not encouraged to submit our stuff more? We know there are options, but we aren't really told what they are. As college students we should be able to figure it out, but some times a little bit of a push is good.
3. Why do professors who come and give workshops think that we want to sit in a lecture for over an hour? We got out of classes for the week, let us do something in your session other than take notes!
4. Why did they choose to hold the festival somewhere there isn't enough room for everyone to fit into one auditorium? It's Iowa State, for Pete's sake! There has to be somewhere we'll all fit!
5. Why do they hold two sessions for playwrights at the exact same time? Put something there that doesn't have the same interest base.
6. Why is it so popular to satirize the church? Sure, we have a history of making fools of ourselves, but so does every other people group in the world. Do we really need eighteen plays about skin deep, fake Christians?
I'm sure there are more questions. They always arise. I think ACTF is really, really good for that. We are given the chance to see things very different from what we do at NWC, given the chance to look at them from very different perspectives, and are able to learn and grow from them. It is great, and exhausting.
I just hope tomorrow's plays are better than what we've seen so far...
Until next time, ask a few questions. It never hurts to ask.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Amateur Love
The word amateur comes from the Latin word "amator" meaning "to love."
Why is being an amateur viewed as a bad thing? Doing something because you love it seems like a really good way to spend your time.
I am back doing things I love. My math and science classes don't count, but I am back going to classes, something I normally love. I have returned to rehearsals, definitely a love. I am spending time with friends, whom I love dearly.
And if I'm honest with myself, I am an amateur in pretty much everything thing I do, whether I love it or not. I am not proficient or excellent by most means, but I think striving for the Latin root meaning is much better than living by the English definition.
Until next time, how are you an amateur?
Why is being an amateur viewed as a bad thing? Doing something because you love it seems like a really good way to spend your time.
I am back doing things I love. My math and science classes don't count, but I am back going to classes, something I normally love. I have returned to rehearsals, definitely a love. I am spending time with friends, whom I love dearly.
And if I'm honest with myself, I am an amateur in pretty much everything thing I do, whether I love it or not. I am not proficient or excellent by most means, but I think striving for the Latin root meaning is much better than living by the English definition.
Until next time, how are you an amateur?
Monday, January 9, 2012
New Flower
The streets of Addis Ababa are alive with the sound of music, chatter, and buna breaks. The jungle of correlated tin looks like it was hastily thrown together in an afternoon, a way to claim your small space in this crowded city of millions, though it's probably been constructed longer than you've been alive.
The small shops only an arms span square hold livelihood. Fruit vendors proudly show their piles of bananas, mangos, oranges, pinapples to those who walk by, trying to convince you that you do indeed need a dozen oranges. You keep walking. If fruit isn't what you need, there is usually a spiral of chut for you to choose from. Marajuana is legal here, so go ahead, escape for a bit. No one on the streets will notice, there's too much going on.
The bright tin of the next store catches your eye, drawn to the general store with shelves of shampoo and toothpaste lined up. She stands behind the counter and fetches what you ask for, confusion arising as pointing seems to be the best option for communicating. Piles of left shoes are stacked on platforms next door, no organization visible to you, but there must be a system of some sort. Clothes are hung on mannequins from steel beams, western style jeans and tops besides traditional Ethiopian dresses. Scarves tempt you, having notice the many ways women here wear them, envious you hadn't thought of some of them yourself.
The streets and sidewalks alternate from dirt to sand to cobble stone to concrete, making your stroll a bit more precarious than before. Following the people in front of you, the path is clearer as you pass body shops and buna shops and basket weavers. A shepherd leads his herd down the street, seeing you and calling out, "Sheep! Buy!" You chuckle -- what would you do with a sheep?
You are approached by an elderly woman with her head wrapped in white cloth; she holds out her hand. You know if you give to her, more will appear. Though your heart is broken, you keep walking. Breifly you consider getting a shoe shine, but your shoes are beyond shinning at this point. You keep walking, small children gaze your direction; your white skin brings amazement. You smile and wave, they suddenly become bashful and run to their mother. Groups of young men call out to you and wave, though you din't know what they are saying. It may be better that way.
You get lost in the street, just going where you feet take you. The people around you smile and nod, watching you as you pass. Never have you felt so conspicouous, so noticed. It is a good experience for you. One last nod to the guard at the gate, leaving the street of Addis Ababa behind locked bars.
The city is called New Flower, and though everything about the city is not new, you are seeing the world with new eyes.
The small shops only an arms span square hold livelihood. Fruit vendors proudly show their piles of bananas, mangos, oranges, pinapples to those who walk by, trying to convince you that you do indeed need a dozen oranges. You keep walking. If fruit isn't what you need, there is usually a spiral of chut for you to choose from. Marajuana is legal here, so go ahead, escape for a bit. No one on the streets will notice, there's too much going on.
The bright tin of the next store catches your eye, drawn to the general store with shelves of shampoo and toothpaste lined up. She stands behind the counter and fetches what you ask for, confusion arising as pointing seems to be the best option for communicating. Piles of left shoes are stacked on platforms next door, no organization visible to you, but there must be a system of some sort. Clothes are hung on mannequins from steel beams, western style jeans and tops besides traditional Ethiopian dresses. Scarves tempt you, having notice the many ways women here wear them, envious you hadn't thought of some of them yourself.
The streets and sidewalks alternate from dirt to sand to cobble stone to concrete, making your stroll a bit more precarious than before. Following the people in front of you, the path is clearer as you pass body shops and buna shops and basket weavers. A shepherd leads his herd down the street, seeing you and calling out, "Sheep! Buy!" You chuckle -- what would you do with a sheep?
You are approached by an elderly woman with her head wrapped in white cloth; she holds out her hand. You know if you give to her, more will appear. Though your heart is broken, you keep walking. Breifly you consider getting a shoe shine, but your shoes are beyond shinning at this point. You keep walking, small children gaze your direction; your white skin brings amazement. You smile and wave, they suddenly become bashful and run to their mother. Groups of young men call out to you and wave, though you din't know what they are saying. It may be better that way.
You get lost in the street, just going where you feet take you. The people around you smile and nod, watching you as you pass. Never have you felt so conspicouous, so noticed. It is a good experience for you. One last nod to the guard at the gate, leaving the street of Addis Ababa behind locked bars.
The city is called New Flower, and though everything about the city is not new, you are seeing the world with new eyes.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
African Time
I am home.
Praise the Lord. For the blessings, the lessons, the laughter, the tears, the sickness, the health, the journey.
Partly because I'm still fairly jet lagged, so original thought is kinda hard, and partly because it's just so good, I'm going to share with you some musings from my journal.
Tid-bits of Africa:
1. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, is 9 hours time difference than Central Time zone. Subtract 3 hours and change the AM or PM. Easy enough.
2. Ethiopia has 13 months of sunshine. That's their motto. Their calendar is quite different. Same number of days in a year, but months are different. Somehow, that makes it possible for them to still be in 2004. Not sure how, but whatever.
3. Their time of day is 6 hours later than ours. They start their 12:00 AM at our 6:00 AM when the sun is rising. Creates a bit of confusion once in awhile, but they are used to adapting to foreigner's time. It was a bit harder for us to adapt.
4. Saturday was their Christmas. Everyone was still selling trees and Santa hats. Really threw off my 'no Christmas until after Thanksgiving rule' since I had already celebrated once, but teammates told me to get over it.
5. Africa uses color well. Shops and store fronts and buildings are brightly painted, lots of green and yellow. Very strong colors as well, like purples and blues and reds.
6. Traffic. Wowza. The entire time we were there, we stopped at one stop light. No such thing as stop signs, the stop lights that were there didn't work. It was crazy, but there was a system. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but you make your presence known, the person coming won't necessarily stop, but they will slow down, causing people behind them to slow down enough that eventually you can turn or merge or whatever. It was chaotic, but we didn't see one single accident. That's what happens when drivers actually pay attention to what they are doing.
7. Power surges are quite common. They happen whenever. Once during a performance. And when it goes out, it gets really dark.
8. Bathrooms rarely had toilet paper or soap or paper towels -- if they even had toilets.
9. Everyone has style. But it is very intentional, very functional, very personal style. Some of it very Western, some very traditional, some very strange. Nonetheless, everyone has a style.
10. There is such an interesting mix of new and old. There will be new construction going up with wooden scaffolding around it. There will be a new store front with a corrugated tin shanty shop next door.
11. The average age of Addis residents is 17 years old. It has a whole lot of young people.
12. Showers are often cold.
13. The elevation of Addis is over 2,300 feet. That is not easy to get used to. It is possible to get elevation sickness. It sucks. We know, some of us had it.
14. Africa time. They run at a very different pace than we do. Much more laid back, often resulting in lateness.
15. Not a single of our performances started when we thought they were going to, and not because we were running late, but because the times got changed. Some were half an hour earlier, some were half an hour later, and we never knew what time things were actually happening until we got there and the time change was made.
16. 1 burr is 17.5 U.S. dollars. That was a hard currency exchange to do in our heads as we were in the market.
17. Bartering is not terribly easy for me. But it's even harder for Jeff. He bought a map for 350 burr, or $18. It was a lousy map.
18. A high school full of girls love watching a performance with three cute American guys in it.
19. There are over 85 different languages spoken in Ethiopia. Luckily, many also speak English.
20. We took Ethiopia's story home. They absolutely loved the play. It was fantastic. An amazing, amazing experience.
I think that's enough for now. More to come, but now I'm off to bed to further my jet lag recovery.
Until next time, stay in peace.
Praise the Lord. For the blessings, the lessons, the laughter, the tears, the sickness, the health, the journey.
Partly because I'm still fairly jet lagged, so original thought is kinda hard, and partly because it's just so good, I'm going to share with you some musings from my journal.
Tid-bits of Africa:
1. Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, is 9 hours time difference than Central Time zone. Subtract 3 hours and change the AM or PM. Easy enough.
2. Ethiopia has 13 months of sunshine. That's their motto. Their calendar is quite different. Same number of days in a year, but months are different. Somehow, that makes it possible for them to still be in 2004. Not sure how, but whatever.
3. Their time of day is 6 hours later than ours. They start their 12:00 AM at our 6:00 AM when the sun is rising. Creates a bit of confusion once in awhile, but they are used to adapting to foreigner's time. It was a bit harder for us to adapt.
4. Saturday was their Christmas. Everyone was still selling trees and Santa hats. Really threw off my 'no Christmas until after Thanksgiving rule' since I had already celebrated once, but teammates told me to get over it.
5. Africa uses color well. Shops and store fronts and buildings are brightly painted, lots of green and yellow. Very strong colors as well, like purples and blues and reds.
6. Traffic. Wowza. The entire time we were there, we stopped at one stop light. No such thing as stop signs, the stop lights that were there didn't work. It was crazy, but there was a system. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but you make your presence known, the person coming won't necessarily stop, but they will slow down, causing people behind them to slow down enough that eventually you can turn or merge or whatever. It was chaotic, but we didn't see one single accident. That's what happens when drivers actually pay attention to what they are doing.
7. Power surges are quite common. They happen whenever. Once during a performance. And when it goes out, it gets really dark.
8. Bathrooms rarely had toilet paper or soap or paper towels -- if they even had toilets.
9. Everyone has style. But it is very intentional, very functional, very personal style. Some of it very Western, some very traditional, some very strange. Nonetheless, everyone has a style.
10. There is such an interesting mix of new and old. There will be new construction going up with wooden scaffolding around it. There will be a new store front with a corrugated tin shanty shop next door.
11. The average age of Addis residents is 17 years old. It has a whole lot of young people.
12. Showers are often cold.
13. The elevation of Addis is over 2,300 feet. That is not easy to get used to. It is possible to get elevation sickness. It sucks. We know, some of us had it.
14. Africa time. They run at a very different pace than we do. Much more laid back, often resulting in lateness.
15. Not a single of our performances started when we thought they were going to, and not because we were running late, but because the times got changed. Some were half an hour earlier, some were half an hour later, and we never knew what time things were actually happening until we got there and the time change was made.
16. 1 burr is 17.5 U.S. dollars. That was a hard currency exchange to do in our heads as we were in the market.
17. Bartering is not terribly easy for me. But it's even harder for Jeff. He bought a map for 350 burr, or $18. It was a lousy map.
18. A high school full of girls love watching a performance with three cute American guys in it.
19. There are over 85 different languages spoken in Ethiopia. Luckily, many also speak English.
20. We took Ethiopia's story home. They absolutely loved the play. It was fantastic. An amazing, amazing experience.
I think that's enough for now. More to come, but now I'm off to bed to further my jet lag recovery.
Until next time, stay in peace.
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