Mid-week List

And now it's the part of the show where Kristin makes another list:

1. The show went amazing this last weekend. Audiences responded very positively, which was good, since we were ready for torches and pitch forks after we dressed up Dustin as "American Jesus," wrapped in red, white, and blue fabric, a red feather boa, and a blonde wig. Could have gone horribly wrong...

2. I miss going to rehearsals.

3. I'm so excited to start "We Ain't the Huxtables" rehearsals on Saturday. I'll only get to go to six of them, but they will be the six best darn rehearsals ever!

4. You should go to the movies and watch "The Amazing Spiderman." Good, good movie. I'll take awkward, cute Peter Parker over old, raspy voice Bruce Wayne any day.

5. Sushi is delicious. Sure, I've only had one experience, but the various kinds we had were very good. I was surprised.

6. After you watch Spiderman, read "Sula" by Toni Morrison. It is a beautiful book. Who doesn't want to read writing like this: Her bare feet would raise the saffron dust that floated down on the coveralls and bunion-spit shoes of the man breathing music in and out of his harmonica. The black people watching her would laugh and rub their knees, and it would be easy for the valley man to hear the laughter and not notice the adult pain that rested somewhere under the eyelids, somewhere in the palm of the hand, somewhere behind the frayed lapels, somewhere in the sinew's curve. . .the pain would escape him even though the laughter was part of the pain. 

7. I'm tired of heat. I know it's hot in Nebraska, but knowing that I'm in Texas makes it seem hotter...

8. I really want to go on a long driving adventure with some friends. I keep hearing Stevie and Ramad talk about their Texas to New York road trip, jealous that I can't take the same kind of adventure. Someday.

9. It's been decided that if teaching doesn't work out, I'd make a great personal assistant. Pretty much like a stage manager but for one person. Or two, since this conversation also happened with Stevie and Ramad...

10. I am getting really antsy about getting to Chicago. Such a grand adventure drawing closer each day. One month from today I will be moving. Bah!

11. I will never forget about Heather. She is also going to pass her test tomorrow. :)

And now we return you to your previously scheduled entertainment.

Until next time.

A Father's Gift

Yesterday I thought of you

Not only because it was your birthday

(Happy Birthday, by the way)

But because someone was smoking

A Marlboro red

And it smelled like home to me

It was a surprising reminder

And I couldn’t help but smile

And last night when I was drinking

Coke and rum

I had a distinct feeling that you were drinking

Coke and whiskey

Because sometimes it’s just how a day needs to end

Especially when you’re turning older

Or you’re celebrating

(I hope you were doing both)

And I didn’t call you yesterday

To say happy birthday Dad

To ask if you felt any older

To which you would have replied

Nope feels the same as any other day

And we both would have chuckled

Our phone call coming to an end fairly quickly

Because I never know what to say to you on the phone

As I grow older I become more okay with that

Because the evidence of your love for me isn’t merely words

You have always been a man of action

Long hours spent working

Big gestures through unexpected gifts

A teasing smirk

A squeeze to the pressure points on my shoulders

Because sometimes I think you like to see me squirm

And sometimes I don’t mind

Especially since it is often followed by a hug

You are not very candid with how you feel

And that’s something I’ve grown to appreciate

Perhaps I’ve become more discerning

Or maybe I’ve just become more like you

But often it is the smallest gestures that mean the most

A pat on the back as you walk though the kitchen I just cleaned

Telling me that you checked out the school website where I’ll be this fall

And that it looked ‘pretty good’

Trying to be supportive despite your concerns

And saying in passing that you’re planning on helping me

Pay my student loans the first couple months

Even though you’re praying I get a job

Somewhere close to home if possible

(But not likely)

I wish I could have been there for your birthday dad

If only for the fact it was the first one you’ve had without your dad

He was a man of action too

A man that I know you admired deeply

A similar admiration that I have for you

So you’re a year older

A year wiser

And a year closer to your trip to Amsterdam

Happy Birthday

Unwashable Dust

"Art washes from the soul the dust of everyday life." -- Pablo Picasso

Isn't that beautiful? I just love the imagery of a beautiful painting or a lovely song falling rinsing off our dust. 

But in some cases, I think our souls are too easily washed off. Sometimes it is all to easy to wash off that dust and forget about the everyday life that we try not to think about or remember. 

Sometimes, like after watching a show like HERstory, art leaves your soul with a thick layer of dust that leaves you walking away with questions and thoughts unexpected and uncomfortable.

HERstory's goal is to make the audience think -- think about what they've accepted, what they've laughed at, what they believe, and what they do. We go about it in unconventional ways, making them feel uncomfortable. 

I wrote up an explanation for the show in the program I'll share below. We are doing the kind of art that puts on a thick layer of dust on souls because this dust is often ignored, washed off to easily. Everyday life is hard for so many people. HERstory tells a few of those stories, a few stories that encapsulate those of thousands like them.

Government housing. The projects. Bad part of town. Disregard whatever your connotation is, because for thousands of people in Waco, and other cities like it, it’s home. For people like Ms. Ethel and her grandson Black, it has been home for the majority, if not all, of their lives. For young men and women like Amerigo and Nina, it is the only place children know after their parents brought them to the United States, legally or not. Students like Linda and Assata are there out of necessity after racking up thousands of dollars of student debt. Whether they like it or not, that is where they find their homes, their families, their communities. 

While these may be characters in HERstory, their stories are not unlike the real stories you would hear if you found yourself in similarly situated communities in Waco, and took the time to listen. You would hear tales of injustice felt by generation after generation of people unable to break the cycle. 

But this issue goes back a lot farther than just the past decade of community revitalization. As integration started in the 1960s, white flight happened, creating parts of town labeled ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ It is our human instinct to want to fix the bad parts, but at what price? 

So what would happen if one day you received notice that your home was being taken away from you? Where would you go? How would you get the money to go? What if there was no other place to go? And all this for a ‘nicer’ sidewalk to walk down? That is what this play explores, along with countless other social justice issues, including racism, stereotypes, Messiah complex, and religion. 

Working hand in hand, this play focuses on many issues Mission Waco seeks to be about: revitalization rather than gentrification, racial reconciliation rather than of stereotyping, confronting issues rather than avoiding them. 

Our hope is that this show will open eyes, shift realities, and stretch comfort zones. The plan was never to sugar coat the issues; it is a very real, very important story we are attempting to tell. Our methods are unconventional, our ideas a little wacky, but the message is hopefully loud and clear. A message we hope you think about long after the play is over.

Opening night went beautifully. People were touched. It took a lot of work to get the show up and running smoothly, but our hard work paid off. Two more shows, and we're ready for them. 

My hope is that the layer of dust our art put on the souls of the audience members isn't dust that is easily washed off. I hope that the dust sticks around, making them think about this show for months and years to come. 

Until next time, remember that sometimes boldness is the only way to tell the truth. 

Preview Night

Night before we open. Typically it would be a preview. However, I'm pretty sure Stevie locked the front doors...

I've been here two weeks. In that time, our rehearsals have been stressful, entertaining, frustrating, enlightening, enraging, encouraging, and about every other descriptor word I can think of. We've had the whole range of the spectrum.

It's been a wild ride. And the next three days are going to be no different.

I think tonight calls for a list. You know how much I love lists. I don't know what kind of list this will be, so come on the ride with me.

1. I miss having a light board that you can program cues into that fade and do fun transitions. Not that running a ghetto rigged light board consisting of five power cords that I turn on and off back stage isn't a great adventure, but it's a lot different than pushing a "GO" button.

1.5. I also miss cue lab. Running sound cues off of window media player is problematic sometimes...

2. Sometimes the best philospohy at this point is, "Oh well."

3. Sometimes, after you decide your philosophy is "Oh well," actors surprise you. So your philosophy changes to, "We might pull this off."

4. I often forget how easily loneliness can be expelled by good conversation.

5. I just witnessed an actor break through. It took three months and an individual rehearsal the night before opening for it to come, but there it was. That was beautiful.

6. I believe that a person's biggest fear is failure. Doesn't matter who it is or what they're trying to do. Failure is scary. Luckily, there is life after failure.

7. Beautiful moments are found in the crappiest of circumstances. Strange thing is, that's what we strive to put on a stage.

8. I have started to hit people with an American flag when they talk backstage. It's quite fun, those little sticks can pack quite the snap if given the right trajectory.

9. How do you tell the director that breaking a glass lantern onstage every night is a bad idea? No, really, give me suggestions, because we're heading to Wal-Mart to buy three more...

10. Stevie shared a beautiful nugget of thought with me last night over mac and cheese and chicken wings: Everyone always talks about going off and finding themself. But he believes that we never change, we just stop pretending to be what we're not. We stop acting like what we're expected to be, we become more okay with who we are, and we are more willing to be that person for everyone else to see.

Until next time, a toast to re-invigoration.

Bathtub Blues

I am beginning to think that it is the

Bathtub where all great thoughts are had

Or maybe just where my most recent thoughts are had

Quandaries about what the hell I’m doing here

Ponderings about what the hell I’m doing next

Questionings about what the hell I’m supposed to be doing

Confessions about how inadequate I feel

And quietly underneath all of that

Prayers that I don’t realize are being whispered

Little tinklings of thoughts that are no more than

Fleeting snippets of prayers sent off unawares

Because I don’t know what to pray for anymore

And I don’t really know who I’m praying to anymore

And the more I try to feel bad about that

The more I feel okay about that

And it is there in the bathtub that I don’t have to try

I don’t have to pretend to be excited

I don’t need to smile to make you feel better

I don’t want to fake encouragement

Because my only concerns are my pruning toes and

Not getting the pages of my book soggy

As I step out of the claw foot tub

I feel solid ground returning

The responsibility flooding back

The pressure from outside the bathroom door

And as the water loudly drains down the pipe

I find myself wishing the water hadn’t turned cool

Because it is much easier to deal with a world where

Keeping all the water in the tub is your biggest problem

Obvious Listing

A list:

1. Every theatre has a ghost. Or at least something that people can blame strange occurances on without it being our fault.

2. When dealing with stereotypes in a play, you can either step back in retreat or charge head on screaming. We are doing the latter. It could either go phenomenally or blow up in our faces.

3. You can buy a confederate flag for $4.00 on amazon.com.

4. My new favorite place to read is in the bath tub. Strange how it took me this long to figure it out.

5. My second favorite place to read is on the screened in back porch.

6. I wish I would have brought Doodle Bear with me. I think he would have liked Texas.

7. Everyone needs to read something written by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. She is a Nigerian writer who is absolutely beautiful: "A love sip, he called it, because you share the little things you love with the people you loved. Have a love sip, he would say, and Jaja would go first. Then I would hold the cup with both hands and raise it to my lips. One sip. The tea was always too hot, always burned my tongue, and if lunch was something peppery, my raw tongue suffered. But it didn't matter, because I knew that when the tea burned my tongue, it burned Papa's love into me."

8. Sometimes all it takes to get excited about a show again is cutting and editing music. At least that's what Stevie tells me.

9. I am craving mac and cheese like it's no body's business.

10. I haven't called my mother all week. This is an odd thing for us. Sorry, Mom. It will happen soon. Promise.

Until next time. 

Lacking Words

I often find myself at a lack of words.

I know lots of words, I just don't often know  how to use them very well. At least not when it truly counts. Because as important at words are, I hate to use them incorrectly.

How do you tell someone they are wonderful without it sounding fake?
How do you encourage someone when they feel worthless?
How do you reassure someone when they feel their work is subpar?
How do you give direction when you  don't know half of what you should?
How do you let someone know that you are worried without it sounding reprimanding?
How do you talk to someone when your language seems completely different, even if you're both speaking English?
How do you connect with someone when you have no idea what they've been through?
How do you bless someone when your blessings feel shallow?
How do you be real with someone when false is all you seem to know?
How do you use your words to cover someone with love when you can't remember how it feels to be loved?
How do you speak when you need to say it?
How do you know you're being understood?

I have no answers, obviously. And becoming mute is not an option.

It reminds me of Etremely Loud and Incredibly Close, an absolutely beautiful book by Jonathan Safran Foer. There is a man who looses his words. It starts when he looses the woman he loves, her name was Anna. The words the leave first are the ones that sound most like her name, like and. Other words get lost, like please, thank you, door, light, love, hurt. He gets yes tattooed on one hand, no on the other. He carries black books around with him all the time, each thought or sentence getting a new page in his journal. The last word he looses is I. 

Can you imagine? How completely selfish would you feel if the only word you could utter was I? Sometimes I don't feel much different.  I, I, I, I just don't have the words to be unselfish, to know what you need and how you need and when you need.

But I suppose my lame excuse for language is better than no language at all.

Until next time.

Raining Answers

Piano keys plunk

But they can’t out play the

Plip

Plop

Plip

Of rain drops on a tin roof

Their rhythm is familiar

Yet unexpected

As they pound on the blacktop

Unlike any rain heard before

But just like every rain heard before

Plip

Plip

Plop

And you find yourself listening

Waiting for revelation

This is your mountain top

Surrounded by concrete and fake grass

You find your center

Sounding to the steady tinking of rain

When God doesn’t make sense

When answers you’ve been saying your whole life

Sound fake and rehearsed

When you give up on everything but love

It is the rain that brings you back

Back to what you’re not sure

But you know you’ve come back

Plop

Plip

Plip

Rhythmic and in time

Maybe not your time

But a time nonetheless

And you listen

Still waiting for revelation

Knowing it will come

Eventually

With a

Plip

Plop

Plip

Raining Thoughts

Things I am being reminded of after three days in Waco:

1. Hot. Hot. Texas is hot.
2. Stevie time. He says we'll start at eleven, he means be ready by 12:30.
3. Actors are slobs. All of them. Slobs.
4. Everything in this theatre is ghetto rigged.
5. It is really easy to slip into a Southern drawl when you're not paying attention.
6. I know theatre. Not as much as I could, but enough to teach actors about status struggles and blocking strategies.
7. I am no longer the whitest member of the company. His name is. . .well, I can't remember his name right now, but he's 14 and has no clue.
8. The best seat while watching a play is right between Stevie and Ramad, especially when Ramad is irritated at Stevie. That happens a lot. We seem to love him anyway.
9. A lot changes in a year.
10. Not a lot changes in a year.
11. The sound of rain is far more beautiful than any song to come from man or woman.

Until next time, listen, dear ones.

Tin Conversations

I don’t think the string will reach

But I’m going to tie it to the end of this can anyway

And hopefully you saved that can from the pork and beans

So that you can tie off your end too

Because if this long distance thing is going to work

Innovation must be implemented

Not the kind of innovation that comes from an icon on a screen

Or a thought in 160 characters or less

But the kind that requires a bit of creativity and a lot of commitment

Because if I’m being honest with myself

It is too easy to brush it off

Blame distance instead of my own lack of dedication

I don’t want to be that girl

I’d much rather write you a long letter

Postmarked with love and glue instead of electrons and data

I may be going about this all the wrong way

Perhaps I should have learned smoke signals instead

But you know how accident prone I am around flames

And maybe Morse code would be clearer for you

But the dots and dashes confuse me

And who knows if one dot could change my words from

I can’t wait to see you to

My big toe loves a frog

And even though this string doesn’t get great reception

And this tin can hurts my ear after straining to hear your words

I’d rather talk to a can that smells like peaches in light syrup

Than see some words blinking on a screen in front of me

So until they come up with some new innovation

Creating a way to bottle up hugs and send them to you

Pull the string tight and listen closely

Waco Home

I'm back in the theatre.

Well, not now. Right now I'm sitting in my July room in a grand Victorian house in Waco, TX. But forty minutes ago I was in a theatre, so it counts.

It's been a long seven weeks without it.

I am joining the cast and crew of HERstory two weeks before opening night. So the director is spazzing because there's so much to do in a limited amount of time. The cast doesn't really grasp the concept of how limited the time is. The set is not done, I have no idea what's going on with costumes, lights still need to be done, publicity isn't finished yet.

All in all, typical theatre two weeks out.

I had to remind Stevie (director/boss/friend) that he's freaking out about the exact same things he was freaking out about last summer. It will all come together. It always does. May try to kill us getting there, but that's why I'm here, to keep him from dying. Good goal.

It felt good, to be back. A bit odd, coming in at an awkward time for me in the production calendar. I have no idea what Stevie has told them, what they've discussed, why they've chosen to do what they're doing. Both an advantage and disadvantage. I can give them a fresh look, but I have no idea what my eyes are supposed to be looking for.

So I will take notes, most of which will not reach the actors (and that's okay), help them with lines, keep the set clean, reassure the director, and encourage the actors. Because this show is going to be amazing, I just know it.

It feels good, to be back in my Waco home. It's a little bizarre. There were a few times when I would look at Stevie or Ramad and feel like no time had passed, we were just picking up where we left off last summer. That feels good. Really good.

Until next time, you have one chance to give that line, take advantage of it!

July Change

I find myself gearing up for my next adventure: revisiting Waco, TX and the Jubilee Theatre for the month of July. I'm excited. I'm a bit hesitant. I'm grateful to be going.

I am going for the sole purpose of helping with the theatre, which will be nice. It will be a hectic month with two shows performing before I'm back in Nebraska by August 6, but I'm so excited! 

The last month and half have been...trying... It's always hard for me to be home, so it is not surprising. I love my family, I love spending time with my cousins, I love seeing friends, but it is hard for me to be in a place where I'm not working towards any real goals. I don't have enough motivation to set goals for myself at this point, I guess.

That is why my blog has been so silent for all of June. A lot of things shifted after Grandpa died, and it was hard to get back into the swing of things. I think that's one of the best reasons for me leaving right now: I need a vacation from my vacation.

So tonight a whole big group of family is converging on our house for fried chicken and fixings, I have been cleaning and prepping for that amidst my packing. I hate packing. Almost done, though.

I think that's all for now. Just a quick update. More to come, I promise. I'll actually have stuff to tell you about.

Until next time, keep cool.