The Plot
*****Spoiler alert, I'm about to give away everything that happens. If you'd rather wait and see how Frank Wedekind does it, then DON'T READ THIS.*****
Okay. Spring Awakening. Here goes.
The play opens with Wendla's mother fitting her for a new dress that is much longer than her old one. They talk about Wendla getting older, and Wendla expresses the desire to stay a child, which her mother encourages. Wendla reveals that she lays awake at night thinking about death sometimes, and that these thoughts help her sleep. (Like I said, weird kid.)
Next scene is the boys in the schoolyard. Everyone leaves except Moritz and Melchior, who begin a serious philosophic discussion about topics ranging from the proper way to raise children to their own "masculine stirrings," or erotic dreams and the inherent sense of shame embedded in that. Moritz reveals that he actually has no idea how babies come into the world, and Melchior offers to teach him. Moritz asks Melchior to write it all down and hide it in one of his books so he can come across it randomly.
Moving on. The boys leave, enter the girls. Wendla, Martha, and Thea discuss the boys (Wendla and Thea find Melchior dreamy, while Martha thinks that Moritz has "more soulful eyes"). The girls also discuss the proper way to raise children, and the fact that they would all rather have boys than girls because girls are apparently boring.
Back to the boys, Moritz sneaks into the dreaded conference room at school and discovers, in sneaking into his file, that he has passed the class. He is to be moved up, provisionally. This makes him wildly happy, but leads the other boys to scoff at how he could have let his grades become so endangered in the first place.
Some time later Melchior is wandering around the woods, thinking his deep thoughts, when he comes across Wendla, who is in the woods gathering woodruff for her mother to make may punch (I don't know what may punch is either...). Melchior asks Wendla if she enjoys being required to give to the poor and Wendla responds that she does which infuriates Melchior. He doesn't understand why something that gives a person joy is seen as sacrifice, and why it's so noble. (This scene, aside from the fairly innocuous dialogue, is filled with so much sexual tension it makes everyone crazy. In a good way.) Wendla talks about Martha being beaten and says that she herself has never been beaten. She then grabs a stick and asks Melchior to beat her with it. He at first refuses, then gives in. He is hesitant at first, then he is seized by an inhuman rage and beats her until she cries. He runs away in horror.
Skimming a bit, Melchior and Moritz finally have their sex talk. Wendla and her mother have a version of the sex talk, wherein it is revealed that although Wendla is 14, her mother would have her still believe that the stork brings babies. Mrs. Bergman's idea of an explanation is to say that a woman must love her husband in order to have a child. Even this vague and not at all helpful answer has to be dragged out of her. Wendla is left with even more unanswered questions and no one else to ask.
In an elaborate monologue, Hansy speaks to a postcard-size portrait of Desdemona, describing the sexual urges he has and the shame he feels in acting on them. He tells of the vicious temptation faced every day.
Next day, Wendla comes upon Melchior who is hiding in a hayloft. Melchior at first tells her to leave, then when she does not, he kisses her. She tells him to stop, but she doesn't leave. He then (arguably) rapes her. (*I say arguably because the dialogue, depending on delivery, could blur the line a little bit. I intend to play up the ambiguity in this scene because I love Melchior to death and don't want him to be a rapist. Also, he's 14 and not a bad kid. And Wendla could have left. I think she was saying no because that's what she knew she should say, not necessarily because it felt bad.)
So that happens, and then Moritz finds out that he actually flunked out of school. He goes into the woods with a gun, intent on killing himself. Before he can manage it, Ilse enters. Ilse, in another scene wrought with sexual tension, tells Moritz of her escapades with the artists in town, and subtly offers to sleep with Moritz, who sends her away. Ilse was attempting to save his life, but he had no interest. Shortly after her exit, Moritz kills himself.
The next act opens with the head of the school grilling Melchior on the booklet he wrote for Moritz detailing the intricacies of copulation. The headmistress blames this document for Moritz's suicide, and expels Melchior. Melchior's parents discuss sending him to the reformatory. Mrs. Gabor is strongly against it, to the point where she threatens to divorce her husband if he forces it. Then Mr. Gabor shows her a letter Melchior wrote to Wendla wherein he apologizes to her for what happened in the hayloft. After hearing that, Mrs Gabor consents to sending her son away.
Moritz's funeral is a somber affair, but it seems to not affect the other kids at all, who spend the whole time talking about homework and discussing the gruesome details of the suicide.
Next we see Wendla, who has been put on bed rest for what is apparently "anemia." Except that it isn't. A visiting doctor tells Mrs Bergman that Wendla is pregnant. When Mrs Bergman tells Wendla, the girl is shocked and says, "But mother, I've never loved anyone but you!" Revealing that she had NO idea that what happened in the hayloft with Melchior could lead to pregnancy. Mrs Bergman, in an effort to return to normalcy, brings in Mother Schmidt to perform an abortion on her daughter. Wendla dies in the procedure.
The next scene is, honestly, sort of random. Hansy and Ernst are together in a vineyard and end up making out. Odd little interlude there, but just Wedekind exploring even more previously unexplored sexuality.
Shift to Melchior in the reformatory, where he is planning his escape. When he finally makes it out, he is chased into a graveyard, and the extent of his mental breakdown becomes apparent. He claims a desire to die. After accidentally kicking over Moritz's cross, he finds Wendla's grave. Moritz then appears to him and offers Melchior his hand, with the understanding that this would transport him into the afterlife. Before Melchior can be persuaded, a Masked Man shows up. The Masked Man convinces Melchior to choose life over death, and the two depart the graveyard.
Whew. That's the play in a nutshell. Wedekind does it better. I'm just trying to entice you into coming to see the real thing.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Spring Awakening 101
So fun story, I have this habit of jumping the gun on my alarm clock by a few minutes because I'm secretly terrified of the noise it makes and it ruins my whole day if my alarm jerks me out of sleep. This morning I had set my alarm for 8:30 so I could get up, shower, and be at work by 9:45. When I woke up I glanced at the clock and saw :28 past, so I groaned, rolled over, and hopped out of bed to turn it off before the alarm went off. I got in the shower, got dressed, packed up all my stuff, and started walking to work...About halfway there, I stopped and thought, 'Wait, did the clock say 7:58 when I finished getting dressed?'So I pulled out my phone and sure enough...it was just 8:30. I was an entire hour early. I hate mornings.
To make this morning better, I'm going to write about Spring Awakening. That ALWAYS makes me happy. It will be especially good because we had an amazing rehearsal last night.
Alrighty. Spring Awakening 101: Meet the characters.
Melchior: A 14 year old boy with a drive to know EVERYTHING. He is referred to by his peers as a "philosopher." He knows the details of human reproduction, something none of the other kids know. However, he is still 14. He doesn't really know how to talk to girls, which ends up being a huge problem for him later on.
Moritz: A 14 year old boy. He is more preoccupied with sex than Melchior, but he shares Melchior's desire for knowledge. Moritz is a poor student, and worries that if he fails our of school his parents will be beyond devastated. He and Melchior are best friends.
Wendla: A 14 year old girl. Whereas the two boys are relatively normal stereotypes of 14 year olds, Wendla is...odd. To say the least. She has a preoccupation with death as well as masochistic tendencies that come up repeatedly throughout the play. Wendla also lives in a world of aggressive naivete. She point-blank refuses to see the world as it really is.
Hansy: (Hanschen in the musical version) Another 14 year old boy. Hansy is an interesting character. He is without a doubt preoccupied with sex, as most of the young boys seem to be.
Ernst: Yet another 14 year old boy. Ernst is another one not doing well in school, and is in a sense Moritz's competition, as the upper classroom only has enough seats for one of them to pass their current class.
Martha: A 14 year old girl. A friend of Wendla's, Martha reveals to us that her father beats her. Also Martha has a thing for Moritz, while all the other girls are in love with Melchior.
Thea: Another 14 year old girl. Thea is more typical of children of the time period. She has very strict ideas of propriety and what should and should not be done.
Ilse: And one more 14 year old girl. Ilse is the free spirit. She runs with a group of artists, who take turns painting her and sleeping with her. Ilse is the only one with real-life knowledge of sex.
**Note about my casting: I have the same actor who is playing Ilse also playing the Masked Man who comes in at the end. It's all literary and symbolic. Way cool.
Mrs. Bergman: Wendla's mother. Mrs. Bergman is a typical mother of the era. She refuses to discuss sex with her daughter, or indeed to discuss anything of any real substance. This woman lives her life according to a set of scripted societal rules and she never varies from them. Never.
Mrs. Gabor: Melchior's mother. Without a doubt the most sympathetic of all the adult characters in the play. She believes in letting her son guide his own learning, and gives him the freedom to read whatever he wants. She answers all of his questions and just loves him unconditionally.
I think that's everybody important. There are a couple of other boys, and a few more adults. But you've got the basic picture. Next lesson: the plot. In a new post. Because this is too long.
To make this morning better, I'm going to write about Spring Awakening. That ALWAYS makes me happy. It will be especially good because we had an amazing rehearsal last night.
Alrighty. Spring Awakening 101: Meet the characters.
Melchior: A 14 year old boy with a drive to know EVERYTHING. He is referred to by his peers as a "philosopher." He knows the details of human reproduction, something none of the other kids know. However, he is still 14. He doesn't really know how to talk to girls, which ends up being a huge problem for him later on.
Moritz: A 14 year old boy. He is more preoccupied with sex than Melchior, but he shares Melchior's desire for knowledge. Moritz is a poor student, and worries that if he fails our of school his parents will be beyond devastated. He and Melchior are best friends.
Wendla: A 14 year old girl. Whereas the two boys are relatively normal stereotypes of 14 year olds, Wendla is...odd. To say the least. She has a preoccupation with death as well as masochistic tendencies that come up repeatedly throughout the play. Wendla also lives in a world of aggressive naivete. She point-blank refuses to see the world as it really is.
Hansy: (Hanschen in the musical version) Another 14 year old boy. Hansy is an interesting character. He is without a doubt preoccupied with sex, as most of the young boys seem to be.
Ernst: Yet another 14 year old boy. Ernst is another one not doing well in school, and is in a sense Moritz's competition, as the upper classroom only has enough seats for one of them to pass their current class.
Martha: A 14 year old girl. A friend of Wendla's, Martha reveals to us that her father beats her. Also Martha has a thing for Moritz, while all the other girls are in love with Melchior.
Thea: Another 14 year old girl. Thea is more typical of children of the time period. She has very strict ideas of propriety and what should and should not be done.
Ilse: And one more 14 year old girl. Ilse is the free spirit. She runs with a group of artists, who take turns painting her and sleeping with her. Ilse is the only one with real-life knowledge of sex.
**Note about my casting: I have the same actor who is playing Ilse also playing the Masked Man who comes in at the end. It's all literary and symbolic. Way cool.
Mrs. Bergman: Wendla's mother. Mrs. Bergman is a typical mother of the era. She refuses to discuss sex with her daughter, or indeed to discuss anything of any real substance. This woman lives her life according to a set of scripted societal rules and she never varies from them. Never.
Mrs. Gabor: Melchior's mother. Without a doubt the most sympathetic of all the adult characters in the play. She believes in letting her son guide his own learning, and gives him the freedom to read whatever he wants. She answers all of his questions and just loves him unconditionally.
I think that's everybody important. There are a couple of other boys, and a few more adults. But you've got the basic picture. Next lesson: the plot. In a new post. Because this is too long.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Honeybees
So this is a paper I had to write for my anthropology class, Communication and the Media. The prompt was thus:
“For animals, the relationship in which one thing stands for something else does not appear to exist except in very rudimentary form” (Hayakawa, p. 14). Draw on the non-human species we have studied to substantiate this claim. You may also complicate the claim, if you wish.
The grades were either check minus, check, or check plus. Most people in the class got a check, but I got a check plus :) Which pleased me a lot because this was right around the time I got back from the hospital, and I found the readings really challenging so I had to work super hard to understand the topic. So, I worked really hard and got a good grade for it. Yay! Here's the paper, if you're interested.
The claim that nonhuman species have only a minimal concept of the idea of one thing standing for another is one substantiated by many observers, key among them scientists like Hayakawa. While on the surface this claim can be easily substantiated, it becomes more complicated the deeper into it one delves. To begin, it is necessary to unpack some key terms. First, an arbitrary symbol is something that has no discernable link between the symbol and the object it represents. An example of this is language. The word “tree” has no real connection to the concept of a tree. Next, an icon is something that bears a physical resemblance to the object discussed, like a picture of a lion to represent lions in the area. Lastly, an indexical relationship is one that generally refers to its subject; ie pointing to indicate a direction.
Arbitrariness is the concept that appears to not exist in animal species. An example supporting this is thus; a group of scientists working with chimpanzees discovered that only with extensive training could the chimps be trained to recognize symbols of objects and use those symbols to classify them into distinct categories (Savage-Rumbaugh, E. Sue, D. M. Rumbaugh, S. T. Smith, and J. Lawson. “Reference: The Linguistic Essential.” Science, Vol. 210, 21, November 1980: 922-925. ) In nature, chimpanzees do not utilize arbitrary symbols to represent things. There is no concept of something being symbolic of another thing. Even iconic relationships had to be taught over long periods of time with many varying levels of training before any progress was made.
Conversely, honeybees do actually display a rudimentary use of, if not symbols, at least indexes. In order for the worker bees to communicate distances and locational information to the forager bees, they employ two distinct dances. The round dance is indicative of a closer source, while the waggle dance is utilized to demonstrate longer distances. Speed of abdominal vibrations and direction of the dance illustrate the size of the food source and the direction in which the foragers should travel. This is certainly indexical, but arguably not arbitrary. The dances are a rudimentary diagram acting almost as a rough map to the source. This is not iconic because it is not a direct representation of the route to the food, it is a symbolic representation that is understood by the bees to have a certain meaning. There does not appear to be any process by which bees are taught these dances, they are simply a part of hive life.
Although indexicality is seen in the honeybee example, this does little to contradict the claim that Hayakawa makes, which is that “For animals, the relationship in which one thing stands for something else does not appear to exist except in very rudimentary form.” A truly complex symbolic relationship would have to show some evidence of arbitrariness, which the honeybee example does not do and the chimpanzee example in fact argues is not possible. Unless it is hidden in some as yet unobserved communication ability, scientists have yet to find strong evidence of animals using complex symbols to represent things other than what they literally are.
~So that's that. Hope it was interesting at the very least!
“For animals, the relationship in which one thing stands for something else does not appear to exist except in very rudimentary form” (Hayakawa, p. 14). Draw on the non-human species we have studied to substantiate this claim. You may also complicate the claim, if you wish.
The grades were either check minus, check, or check plus. Most people in the class got a check, but I got a check plus :) Which pleased me a lot because this was right around the time I got back from the hospital, and I found the readings really challenging so I had to work super hard to understand the topic. So, I worked really hard and got a good grade for it. Yay! Here's the paper, if you're interested.
The claim that nonhuman species have only a minimal concept of the idea of one thing standing for another is one substantiated by many observers, key among them scientists like Hayakawa. While on the surface this claim can be easily substantiated, it becomes more complicated the deeper into it one delves. To begin, it is necessary to unpack some key terms. First, an arbitrary symbol is something that has no discernable link between the symbol and the object it represents. An example of this is language. The word “tree” has no real connection to the concept of a tree. Next, an icon is something that bears a physical resemblance to the object discussed, like a picture of a lion to represent lions in the area. Lastly, an indexical relationship is one that generally refers to its subject; ie pointing to indicate a direction.
Arbitrariness is the concept that appears to not exist in animal species. An example supporting this is thus; a group of scientists working with chimpanzees discovered that only with extensive training could the chimps be trained to recognize symbols of objects and use those symbols to classify them into distinct categories (Savage-Rumbaugh, E. Sue, D. M. Rumbaugh, S. T. Smith, and J. Lawson. “Reference: The Linguistic Essential.” Science, Vol. 210, 21, November 1980: 922-925. ) In nature, chimpanzees do not utilize arbitrary symbols to represent things. There is no concept of something being symbolic of another thing. Even iconic relationships had to be taught over long periods of time with many varying levels of training before any progress was made.
Conversely, honeybees do actually display a rudimentary use of, if not symbols, at least indexes. In order for the worker bees to communicate distances and locational information to the forager bees, they employ two distinct dances. The round dance is indicative of a closer source, while the waggle dance is utilized to demonstrate longer distances. Speed of abdominal vibrations and direction of the dance illustrate the size of the food source and the direction in which the foragers should travel. This is certainly indexical, but arguably not arbitrary. The dances are a rudimentary diagram acting almost as a rough map to the source. This is not iconic because it is not a direct representation of the route to the food, it is a symbolic representation that is understood by the bees to have a certain meaning. There does not appear to be any process by which bees are taught these dances, they are simply a part of hive life.
Although indexicality is seen in the honeybee example, this does little to contradict the claim that Hayakawa makes, which is that “For animals, the relationship in which one thing stands for something else does not appear to exist except in very rudimentary form.” A truly complex symbolic relationship would have to show some evidence of arbitrariness, which the honeybee example does not do and the chimpanzee example in fact argues is not possible. Unless it is hidden in some as yet unobserved communication ability, scientists have yet to find strong evidence of animals using complex symbols to represent things other than what they literally are.
~So that's that. Hope it was interesting at the very least!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Mama Who Bore Me
Is the opening number of the Spring Awakening soundtrack. Which is fitting, because wee just had our very first Spring Awakening rehearsal.
It was magnificent.
Due to the fact that one of the other shows at Brandeis this semester is in tech and about half my cast is in that show, the rehearsal was small with just Wendla, Thea, Martha, and Mrs. Bergman (those are characters; portrayed by the actors Corrie, Joanna, Devan, and Kate) and my stage manager, Jessie.
We opened with me discussing how rehearsals were going to run, and then we did a few read-throughs of the scenes to be worked on, and then we began blocking. It's so fun to work with actors who are serious about their parts and about the script. I mean, I've loved this script since the first time I opened it. It's nice to remember that this isn't a piece I have to teach people how to love. It's an incredible show that gives actors a lot to work with in the way of complex emotions and intricate dialogue. It's intense. Which is absolutely the best kind of theatre. Spring Awakening will not leave everyone smiling. It will leave them reeling.
So we blocked three scenes and ran them a few times over. But my favorite part of rehearsal came after. I had everyone gather in a circle and we talked about the characters. That is always my favorite part of getting into a show; learning the nuances of the character I'm playing. Living in their skin, learning their past, discovering why they say the things they say. As a director, I'm not as intimate with all of the characters as the actors will be.
I was extremely impressed with how much character work the cast had already done. Even for just working with the material for a few hours, we had some very in-depth discussion of everyone. Wendla especially, and her relationship with her mother. Which plays a huge part in the story.
All in all, a great time. Hopefully the first of many :)
It was magnificent.
Due to the fact that one of the other shows at Brandeis this semester is in tech and about half my cast is in that show, the rehearsal was small with just Wendla, Thea, Martha, and Mrs. Bergman (those are characters; portrayed by the actors Corrie, Joanna, Devan, and Kate) and my stage manager, Jessie.
We opened with me discussing how rehearsals were going to run, and then we did a few read-throughs of the scenes to be worked on, and then we began blocking. It's so fun to work with actors who are serious about their parts and about the script. I mean, I've loved this script since the first time I opened it. It's nice to remember that this isn't a piece I have to teach people how to love. It's an incredible show that gives actors a lot to work with in the way of complex emotions and intricate dialogue. It's intense. Which is absolutely the best kind of theatre. Spring Awakening will not leave everyone smiling. It will leave them reeling.
So we blocked three scenes and ran them a few times over. But my favorite part of rehearsal came after. I had everyone gather in a circle and we talked about the characters. That is always my favorite part of getting into a show; learning the nuances of the character I'm playing. Living in their skin, learning their past, discovering why they say the things they say. As a director, I'm not as intimate with all of the characters as the actors will be.
I was extremely impressed with how much character work the cast had already done. Even for just working with the material for a few hours, we had some very in-depth discussion of everyone. Wendla especially, and her relationship with her mother. Which plays a huge part in the story.
All in all, a great time. Hopefully the first of many :)
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
We begin...
Yeah, I'm using an obscure Rent reference to being my Spring Awakening saga...just go with it. It's fine. Don't worry.
Yes folks! Spring Awakening has begun its first foray into existence. Today and yesterday we endured Common Auditions; the painfully long process wherein all of the directors of all the straight (non-musical) plays sit in a row and just have everyone audition for all of them instead of all at separate times. 6:30-11 two nights in a row.
Night one: Fun! Ordered Thai takeout, giggled a little over silly auditions (not in a making-fun kind of way, in a laughing WITH the person kind of way. Really.). Not enough boys. One really good male that everyone is going to fight over. Naturally, he specifically wishes to only be cast in one show. Offers of sexual favors? Potentially...
Night two: Sillier. We laughed waaay more easily due to being comfortable with each other and due to..well...exhaustion and less seriousness over what we were doing. Also watched a bit of the State of the Union. Attempted to start slow claps from over the internet. Were moderately successful. Still not enough guys.
End of tonight: Stare at audition forms and decide who to call back for what parts. Argue over finally created call-back list with other directors. Attempt to configure time slots that all coexist so that actors don't have to be in 50 places at once.
Post call back sheets.
Pray it doesn't snow.
Next step for Spring Awakening? We have callbacks scheduled for 5-11 tomorrow. I will have my work cut out for me in eliminating females. There were SO many talented girls who auditioned, so I can be really picky about which ones I want. I'm trying to give preference to people with less Brandeis theatre experience because...well...they're the ones I want to work with. So I'm sticking with freshman and mid-years mostly. Oh, and people who seemed really specifically enthusiastic about Spring Awakening as opposed to the other shows being cast. This piece will rely on the passion my actors can give it. If I ask someone who isn't passionate about the show to do the awkward and demanding things required by some of the parts, then they will be less willing to comply.
Talking about the script, I have been rereading it often of late, and just re-realizing how absolutely in love with it I am. Wedekind wrote a piece that was revolutionary for its time, and it is still exceptionally strong so many years later. I can't wait to be the next one to marvel in its brilliance, and hopefully to do it justice.
Stay tuned! More updates to come (if my callbacks don't get snowed out...).
Yes folks! Spring Awakening has begun its first foray into existence. Today and yesterday we endured Common Auditions; the painfully long process wherein all of the directors of all the straight (non-musical) plays sit in a row and just have everyone audition for all of them instead of all at separate times. 6:30-11 two nights in a row.
Night one: Fun! Ordered Thai takeout, giggled a little over silly auditions (not in a making-fun kind of way, in a laughing WITH the person kind of way. Really.). Not enough boys. One really good male that everyone is going to fight over. Naturally, he specifically wishes to only be cast in one show. Offers of sexual favors? Potentially...
Night two: Sillier. We laughed waaay more easily due to being comfortable with each other and due to..well...exhaustion and less seriousness over what we were doing. Also watched a bit of the State of the Union. Attempted to start slow claps from over the internet. Were moderately successful. Still not enough guys.
End of tonight: Stare at audition forms and decide who to call back for what parts. Argue over finally created call-back list with other directors. Attempt to configure time slots that all coexist so that actors don't have to be in 50 places at once.
Post call back sheets.
Pray it doesn't snow.
Next step for Spring Awakening? We have callbacks scheduled for 5-11 tomorrow. I will have my work cut out for me in eliminating females. There were SO many talented girls who auditioned, so I can be really picky about which ones I want. I'm trying to give preference to people with less Brandeis theatre experience because...well...they're the ones I want to work with. So I'm sticking with freshman and mid-years mostly. Oh, and people who seemed really specifically enthusiastic about Spring Awakening as opposed to the other shows being cast. This piece will rely on the passion my actors can give it. If I ask someone who isn't passionate about the show to do the awkward and demanding things required by some of the parts, then they will be less willing to comply.
Talking about the script, I have been rereading it often of late, and just re-realizing how absolutely in love with it I am. Wedekind wrote a piece that was revolutionary for its time, and it is still exceptionally strong so many years later. I can't wait to be the next one to marvel in its brilliance, and hopefully to do it justice.
Stay tuned! More updates to come (if my callbacks don't get snowed out...).
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Ian Axel, Field Mouse, Allison Weiss
So I went to a concert the other night at Cafe 939.
Cafe 939 is run by Berklee, which is a music college. The Cafe's claim to fame is that it is the ONLY all-ages music club in Boston. Which is fairly impressive. They stay all ages not by censoring their musical acts, but simply by not serving alcohol. They literally have all kinds of acts. Check out their website if you feel like it. It's a neat place.
The reason I went to Cafe 939 was, of course, for the lovely and talented Allison Weiss. She's fantastic. Look her up if you haven't already. I talk about her a lot. Because she's amazing. But that's not why I'm writing.
The two acts that opened for Allison were a guy named Ian Axel and a band called Field Mouse (that, interestingly enough, Allison plays bass for. One of the guys who worked at the club said he's never seen an artist open for themselves...haha). So I didn't have any feeling toward Field Mouse. No negative or positive. They were just loud. I couldn't hear what the singer was singing about because the rest was too loud. Eh. But the other opener, Ian Axel, was great. He doesn't have a record done (yet). He just sat down at the piano and played with his whole body and his whole heart. It was really amazing. And he had a great voice and his lyrics were straight from the soul.
That's what I love about these unsigned artists like Weiss and Axel. They don't have to write songs for anybody, so they just write what they feel. And you know what? It's better than all the manufactured shit out there now. It's real. Ian could (and did) tell us the story behind the inspiration for every song he sang us. So did Allison. It was incredible. And what courage it takes to get up there and reveal that depth. It takes more guts to get up on stage as an unsigned musician than it does to be an actor. Because actors are trying to be someone else. Musicians, or at least these musicians, are just singing from their hearts.
So my goal for the semester is to explore the Boston music scene. Ian Axel was an unexpected delight. I have no doubt that there is more brilliance out there waiting to be found.
Cafe 939 is run by Berklee, which is a music college. The Cafe's claim to fame is that it is the ONLY all-ages music club in Boston. Which is fairly impressive. They stay all ages not by censoring their musical acts, but simply by not serving alcohol. They literally have all kinds of acts. Check out their website if you feel like it. It's a neat place.
The reason I went to Cafe 939 was, of course, for the lovely and talented Allison Weiss. She's fantastic. Look her up if you haven't already. I talk about her a lot. Because she's amazing. But that's not why I'm writing.
The two acts that opened for Allison were a guy named Ian Axel and a band called Field Mouse (that, interestingly enough, Allison plays bass for. One of the guys who worked at the club said he's never seen an artist open for themselves...haha). So I didn't have any feeling toward Field Mouse. No negative or positive. They were just loud. I couldn't hear what the singer was singing about because the rest was too loud. Eh. But the other opener, Ian Axel, was great. He doesn't have a record done (yet). He just sat down at the piano and played with his whole body and his whole heart. It was really amazing. And he had a great voice and his lyrics were straight from the soul.
That's what I love about these unsigned artists like Weiss and Axel. They don't have to write songs for anybody, so they just write what they feel. And you know what? It's better than all the manufactured shit out there now. It's real. Ian could (and did) tell us the story behind the inspiration for every song he sang us. So did Allison. It was incredible. And what courage it takes to get up there and reveal that depth. It takes more guts to get up on stage as an unsigned musician than it does to be an actor. Because actors are trying to be someone else. Musicians, or at least these musicians, are just singing from their hearts.
So my goal for the semester is to explore the Boston music scene. Ian Axel was an unexpected delight. I have no doubt that there is more brilliance out there waiting to be found.
Monday, January 17, 2011
"It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got..."
So I'm back at Brandeis after a long break.
Yesterday felt like running the gauntlet. Returning to my chosen solitude on the same day as the anniversary of my father's death just felt cruel. There was no relief in the return. Just the familiar silence settling around me as I shut the door to my room.
I'm writing only to keep myself from finishing the novel I started yesterday. A novel I have burned through because I've been in here alone most of the day. The number of pages remaining has dwindled alarmingly quickly. Sometimes I hate being a fast reader.
My classes are mostly in order for tomorrow. The morning will begin at 10:40 with a yoga class in which I am not formally enrolled. So the day will begin with a contest of wills. Me against the teacher. Who will win? Who knows. Following yoga I will head to a Spanish class, and then Human Rights in a Global Perspective. I should be really excited about the last one, but I'm not excited about anything now. If not for dinner with Emily and Jenn, I could easily have gone all day without speaking a word to anyone.
I titled this post optimistically. Clearly I don't have what I want right now. I just need to find it in myself to want what I've got. What I've got is an incredible opportunity to further my learning, something that has always been important to me. I just have to keep repeating that to myself. Soon, classes will pick up and Spring Awakening will begin and I won't have time to think this way. I hope.
What awaits in the future, though, does not make this moment any less lonely. I'm trying to tune my focus to things that at the very least make my mind move in interesting ways, even if they can't make me happy. I should write down blocking notes for the show I am about to direct. I should read the provided syllabi for upcoming classes. I should...but I don't want to. I just want to be at home.
Yesterday felt like running the gauntlet. Returning to my chosen solitude on the same day as the anniversary of my father's death just felt cruel. There was no relief in the return. Just the familiar silence settling around me as I shut the door to my room.
I'm writing only to keep myself from finishing the novel I started yesterday. A novel I have burned through because I've been in here alone most of the day. The number of pages remaining has dwindled alarmingly quickly. Sometimes I hate being a fast reader.
My classes are mostly in order for tomorrow. The morning will begin at 10:40 with a yoga class in which I am not formally enrolled. So the day will begin with a contest of wills. Me against the teacher. Who will win? Who knows. Following yoga I will head to a Spanish class, and then Human Rights in a Global Perspective. I should be really excited about the last one, but I'm not excited about anything now. If not for dinner with Emily and Jenn, I could easily have gone all day without speaking a word to anyone.
I titled this post optimistically. Clearly I don't have what I want right now. I just need to find it in myself to want what I've got. What I've got is an incredible opportunity to further my learning, something that has always been important to me. I just have to keep repeating that to myself. Soon, classes will pick up and Spring Awakening will begin and I won't have time to think this way. I hope.
What awaits in the future, though, does not make this moment any less lonely. I'm trying to tune my focus to things that at the very least make my mind move in interesting ways, even if they can't make me happy. I should write down blocking notes for the show I am about to direct. I should read the provided syllabi for upcoming classes. I should...but I don't want to. I just want to be at home.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Friends
So Emily and I had dinner tonight with our friend other friend Jenn. Emily mentioned how she likes to read my Facebook profile because I always have amusing statuses (stati?) and people always comment all over them. She said she used to think that people were just fake-Facebook nice to me and that they couldn't actually love me that much in REAL life.
But then she visited WV and saw that my friends so, in fact, really love me that much. People freaking leap on me when I enter a room. Literally. I have the bruises.
I'm just sharing this because it really made me smile. Sometimes I forget how much my friends love me. I never forget how much I miss them, I just have to occasionally be reminded that the love flows both ways. Thanks Em, for reminding me. Even though you've met them all of once :)
But then she visited WV and saw that my friends so, in fact, really love me that much. People freaking leap on me when I enter a room. Literally. I have the bruises.
I'm just sharing this because it really made me smile. Sometimes I forget how much my friends love me. I never forget how much I miss them, I just have to occasionally be reminded that the love flows both ways. Thanks Em, for reminding me. Even though you've met them all of once :)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Update
I was pretty good about blogging every day there for a bit. Sometimes more than once a day. Because sometimes being alone leads to great introspective thoughts that weaves itself into insightful prose and relieves the inner tension besides. But then you find all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on youtube and POOF! introspection gone in favor of trashy internet television.
So, an update on my life. I am like 90% certain that I want to double major in Anthropology and Creative Writing. Yay life choices. Don't ask me what I want to, you know, DO with those majors. I don't have to know that yet. I like to write. And I like to study people. That can be enough for the moment.
I dressed as a watermelon for Halloween. A sexy watermelon. That's right. A sexy watermelon. See, I realized AFTER Halloween that I liked the costume because it took the idea of a sexy Halloween costume and mocked it. I mean, there is nothing at all sexy about a watermelon. But someone at the Garment District (costume store in Boston) had the idea to manufacture a skanky little watermelon dress that happened to look great on me. So...I wasn't being a run of the mill slut. I was a slut making an ironic statement about slutty costumes. That's right. Think about THAT.
What else? I went to a meeting for one of the theatre groups on campus. One of the girls who hangs lights with me (Elana) is on the board for Freeplay, and she encouraged me to come. Freeplay specializes in artistically interpreted plays used to make a social statement. Fun, ya? And they need directors. And also writers. Both of which are services I can offer. I think I'm going to try to direct Wedekind's original Spring Awakening(not the Sheik musical, the old one) next semester. I already found someone who potentially wants to stage manage for me. So...potential fun to be had.
It's autumn in Boston. Obviously, it's beautiful. The trees are on fire, and there are crunchy leaves to step on everywhere I go. At night, the campus lights illuminate the yellow leaves from beneath, creating an incredible contrast to the deep blue of the sky. It's so beautiful. It's the time of year that makes me think of pumpkins, and apples, and long walks in the dark with my friends as we try to take advantage of the last moments of warmth in the air.
Hope you all are enjoying your autumn!
So, an update on my life. I am like 90% certain that I want to double major in Anthropology and Creative Writing. Yay life choices. Don't ask me what I want to, you know, DO with those majors. I don't have to know that yet. I like to write. And I like to study people. That can be enough for the moment.
I dressed as a watermelon for Halloween. A sexy watermelon. That's right. A sexy watermelon. See, I realized AFTER Halloween that I liked the costume because it took the idea of a sexy Halloween costume and mocked it. I mean, there is nothing at all sexy about a watermelon. But someone at the Garment District (costume store in Boston) had the idea to manufacture a skanky little watermelon dress that happened to look great on me. So...I wasn't being a run of the mill slut. I was a slut making an ironic statement about slutty costumes. That's right. Think about THAT.
What else? I went to a meeting for one of the theatre groups on campus. One of the girls who hangs lights with me (Elana) is on the board for Freeplay, and she encouraged me to come. Freeplay specializes in artistically interpreted plays used to make a social statement. Fun, ya? And they need directors. And also writers. Both of which are services I can offer. I think I'm going to try to direct Wedekind's original Spring Awakening(not the Sheik musical, the old one) next semester. I already found someone who potentially wants to stage manage for me. So...potential fun to be had.
It's autumn in Boston. Obviously, it's beautiful. The trees are on fire, and there are crunchy leaves to step on everywhere I go. At night, the campus lights illuminate the yellow leaves from beneath, creating an incredible contrast to the deep blue of the sky. It's so beautiful. It's the time of year that makes me think of pumpkins, and apples, and long walks in the dark with my friends as we try to take advantage of the last moments of warmth in the air.
Hope you all are enjoying your autumn!
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Arts Writing
So, I went to an improv comedy show tonight at Brandeis. For anyone not aware, improv(isation) is a form of theatre in which there is no script, nothing prepared at all. The actors just have to think on their feet and go with the flow. It can either be really cool or tank really tragically.
The show I attended mostly fell into the tragic tanking category. Their timing was off, the cast kept laughing at their own jokes, and their humor was really just sort of cheap.
The reason I'm writing clearly is not to praise this troupe. Actually they really don't have much to do with the story. The crux of this is that at the show, I was sitting next to a reporter from the Justice (Brandeis student produced newspaper) who was taking mad notes the whole time. I happened to peek at the notes (hey, I'm considering Journalism. It's not creeping. It's studying.) and was shocked at how harshly this reporter was eviscerating the show.
My first thoughts were in defense of this troupe, they worked hard for this! They're up there performing a show! Then I thought, wait a minute, I don't think they're any good either. Why do I have a problem with this reporter's notes?
Then it hit me. The reason why I will never be an arts reporter. Are you ready for this?
I'm an artist. I'm an actor. I know exactly what it feels like to be up there sweating under the lights, speaking words that seem to come from somewhere deep inside you that you didn't even know existed before. I know exactly how much time, effort, energy, and heart goes into giving a production everything you have, and I know exactly how it feels to be told that it's not enough. Your best wasn't good enough. And you sit there and you put your head in your hands and you beat yourself up and think "What did we do wrong?" until you're dizzy. Then you go home, cry for a night, then go back out and do it all again.
Yes, everyone gets bad reviews. No, not all productions are amazing nor do they all deserve audiences.
But I will not be the one responsible for crushing the dreams of a creative team. I couldn't do it. Art and creativity are too important to discourage anyone from trying their hand at it.
That is all.
The show I attended mostly fell into the tragic tanking category. Their timing was off, the cast kept laughing at their own jokes, and their humor was really just sort of cheap.
The reason I'm writing clearly is not to praise this troupe. Actually they really don't have much to do with the story. The crux of this is that at the show, I was sitting next to a reporter from the Justice (Brandeis student produced newspaper) who was taking mad notes the whole time. I happened to peek at the notes (hey, I'm considering Journalism. It's not creeping. It's studying.) and was shocked at how harshly this reporter was eviscerating the show.
My first thoughts were in defense of this troupe, they worked hard for this! They're up there performing a show! Then I thought, wait a minute, I don't think they're any good either. Why do I have a problem with this reporter's notes?
Then it hit me. The reason why I will never be an arts reporter. Are you ready for this?
I'm an artist. I'm an actor. I know exactly what it feels like to be up there sweating under the lights, speaking words that seem to come from somewhere deep inside you that you didn't even know existed before. I know exactly how much time, effort, energy, and heart goes into giving a production everything you have, and I know exactly how it feels to be told that it's not enough. Your best wasn't good enough. And you sit there and you put your head in your hands and you beat yourself up and think "What did we do wrong?" until you're dizzy. Then you go home, cry for a night, then go back out and do it all again.
Yes, everyone gets bad reviews. No, not all productions are amazing nor do they all deserve audiences.
But I will not be the one responsible for crushing the dreams of a creative team. I couldn't do it. Art and creativity are too important to discourage anyone from trying their hand at it.
That is all.
Monday, October 25, 2010
On Rejection
That's right kids. Lights Down, my baby (my beloved play that I wrote and got to direct and decided to send to a publisher...) was rejected by Playscripts' Inc. It's a sad thing. I'm very disappointed. I worked hard on Lights Down, and Playscripts' rejected it with a form e-mail. Not even a personal note telling me what was wrong with it. Just a generic, "we don't want it" sort of letter. Thanks for crushing my dreams Playscripts' Inc. Thanks lots.
BUT upon further reflection, I have come to this realization.
The Beatles were rejected once.
J.K. Rowling was rejected NINE TIMES.
Stephen King reportedly has enough rejection letters to paper a room.
Quite frankly, Lights Down has never been in better company.
So I asked the magnificent G (who originally recommended Playscripts') if he knew of any other publishing companies who look at stuff from young new playwrights and he suggested Brooklyn Publishers. I submitted Lights Down last night.
And just a note to Playscripts' Inc, WHEN I MAKE MY MILLIONS AS A WRITER, YOU WILL BE THE FIRST ONES INVITED TO BITE ME.
That is all.
Have a nice day.
BUT upon further reflection, I have come to this realization.
The Beatles were rejected once.
J.K. Rowling was rejected NINE TIMES.
Stephen King reportedly has enough rejection letters to paper a room.
Quite frankly, Lights Down has never been in better company.
So I asked the magnificent G (who originally recommended Playscripts') if he knew of any other publishing companies who look at stuff from young new playwrights and he suggested Brooklyn Publishers. I submitted Lights Down last night.
And just a note to Playscripts' Inc, WHEN I MAKE MY MILLIONS AS A WRITER, YOU WILL BE THE FIRST ONES INVITED TO BITE ME.
That is all.
Have a nice day.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
A Year
Or very nearly one.
Brendan my dear, nearly and entire year has passed since I got the phone call. That one horrible phone call. Lizz told me you had...I don't even know what phrase to use. "Committed suicide" sounds too...technical, too detached. But "killed yourself" sounds juvenile. I don't know what to call it. I don't want to call it anything.
But she called me, and I slid down the wall in my dorm hallway. Cell service died, because that's what concrete does to cell service. I just sat there on the floor, staring at my knees, unable to believe it. I called Lizz back and we talked for another minute, but neither of us knew what to say.
I walked back into the lounge on my hall(where I had previously been studying) and sat down like nothing had happened. I just stared at my computer, at all the messages scrolling down Facebook. Messages that I now understood. Messages that made me..numb inside. A few of my friends came in and I finally found my words. "One of my high school friends...committed suicide...this morning."
I remember that it was the most beautiful sunny day. Cliched though it is, I sat in my favorite seat by the window and looked out and wondered how the world could not be crying for the loss of you, who were so young and so loved.
So loved, Brendan. It's been nearly one whole year and people still write on your Facebook wall. All the time.
I'm so sorry Brendan. I'm sorry we hadn't talked in a long time. I'm sorry you didn't know how much you meant to me. I'm sorry. I am so very sorry. You touched so many of our lives. Maybe if we had let you know it, you would still be with us.
The rest of that day I was in a daze. I didn't know what to do. My roommates left me alone. I turned off the lights and laid down on my top bunk and stared at the ceiling and thought about you and remembered you and did all the things I thought you were supposed to do when someone dies.
I felt so cut off from everyone. All of our friends at home could grieve together, and there I was, stuck in Boston.
I was so terrified I was going to miss your funeral. I tried my absolute hardest to get my flight rescheduled, but I couldn't do it. I ended up rushing directly from the airport to the church, getting in late. But it didn't matter. As soon as I got there I was crying. Crying so hard I could barely see how packed the church was, how tear-streaked everyone else looked.
I think I'll always remember your funeral. And the day I found out you had died. Some things just don't go away.
You are in my thoughts a lot Brendan. Even now, nearly one year past, I still think of you nearly every day. You are so near to my heart boy. And I bet you didn't even know it.
I hope you found your peace. And I hope you can see how much we all miss you down here. Love you forever kid.
Brendan my dear, nearly and entire year has passed since I got the phone call. That one horrible phone call. Lizz told me you had...I don't even know what phrase to use. "Committed suicide" sounds too...technical, too detached. But "killed yourself" sounds juvenile. I don't know what to call it. I don't want to call it anything.
But she called me, and I slid down the wall in my dorm hallway. Cell service died, because that's what concrete does to cell service. I just sat there on the floor, staring at my knees, unable to believe it. I called Lizz back and we talked for another minute, but neither of us knew what to say.
I walked back into the lounge on my hall(where I had previously been studying) and sat down like nothing had happened. I just stared at my computer, at all the messages scrolling down Facebook. Messages that I now understood. Messages that made me..numb inside. A few of my friends came in and I finally found my words. "One of my high school friends...committed suicide...this morning."
I remember that it was the most beautiful sunny day. Cliched though it is, I sat in my favorite seat by the window and looked out and wondered how the world could not be crying for the loss of you, who were so young and so loved.
So loved, Brendan. It's been nearly one whole year and people still write on your Facebook wall. All the time.
I'm so sorry Brendan. I'm sorry we hadn't talked in a long time. I'm sorry you didn't know how much you meant to me. I'm sorry. I am so very sorry. You touched so many of our lives. Maybe if we had let you know it, you would still be with us.
The rest of that day I was in a daze. I didn't know what to do. My roommates left me alone. I turned off the lights and laid down on my top bunk and stared at the ceiling and thought about you and remembered you and did all the things I thought you were supposed to do when someone dies.
I felt so cut off from everyone. All of our friends at home could grieve together, and there I was, stuck in Boston.
I was so terrified I was going to miss your funeral. I tried my absolute hardest to get my flight rescheduled, but I couldn't do it. I ended up rushing directly from the airport to the church, getting in late. But it didn't matter. As soon as I got there I was crying. Crying so hard I could barely see how packed the church was, how tear-streaked everyone else looked.
I think I'll always remember your funeral. And the day I found out you had died. Some things just don't go away.
You are in my thoughts a lot Brendan. Even now, nearly one year past, I still think of you nearly every day. You are so near to my heart boy. And I bet you didn't even know it.
I hope you found your peace. And I hope you can see how much we all miss you down here. Love you forever kid.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Quincy Square Market
Go there. It's freaking amazing.
Emily and I went on a Halloween costume searching adventure this past weekend and part of our adventure was dinner at Quincy Square Market. What a cool place.
It's a total tourist trap, first of all. But as I learned from my summer in Harpers ferry, tourists can be pretty cool people. The thought of tourists should not necessarily send one running in the other direction. I thought Harpers Ferry was diverse, but oh man. Quincy Square Market is WAY more so. There are people from all over the world gathered in this place. Emily and I heard a French conversation! I didn't understand a word of it, but still. Way cool.
The diversity of the populace is well represented by the services offered in Quincy Square Market. Basically a giant food court, I saw most of the globe represented in culinary form. I decided to go for some Bostonian cuisine. Emily and I both enjoyed soup in sourdough breadbowls. She had clam chowder, I had lobster bisque. Delicious! Maybe it was the soup, but the entire atmosphere just felt so...Boston. As a port city, it makes sense fro Boston to be a gathering a cultures in their more extreme form. As you go farther inland, the different cultures tend to be softened, more combined with US traditions.
In Boston all the culture feels stronger. Maybe that's just because I haven't been in a place that had any noticeable culture to speak of for most of my life. But I don't think that's it. I think Boston is truly a unique place. I really love this city. It has so much to offer, and I plan on exploring more of it as often as I can.
Emily and I went on a Halloween costume searching adventure this past weekend and part of our adventure was dinner at Quincy Square Market. What a cool place.
It's a total tourist trap, first of all. But as I learned from my summer in Harpers ferry, tourists can be pretty cool people. The thought of tourists should not necessarily send one running in the other direction. I thought Harpers Ferry was diverse, but oh man. Quincy Square Market is WAY more so. There are people from all over the world gathered in this place. Emily and I heard a French conversation! I didn't understand a word of it, but still. Way cool.
The diversity of the populace is well represented by the services offered in Quincy Square Market. Basically a giant food court, I saw most of the globe represented in culinary form. I decided to go for some Bostonian cuisine. Emily and I both enjoyed soup in sourdough breadbowls. She had clam chowder, I had lobster bisque. Delicious! Maybe it was the soup, but the entire atmosphere just felt so...Boston. As a port city, it makes sense fro Boston to be a gathering a cultures in their more extreme form. As you go farther inland, the different cultures tend to be softened, more combined with US traditions.
In Boston all the culture feels stronger. Maybe that's just because I haven't been in a place that had any noticeable culture to speak of for most of my life. But I don't think that's it. I think Boston is truly a unique place. I really love this city. It has so much to offer, and I plan on exploring more of it as often as I can.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Perfect World
In a perfect world, I would be sitting in a glass room at the top of a tall tower. There are no electric lights. During the day, I can see by the sun and at night I am able to look at the stars without distraction.
The room itself would be simply furnished, with only a giant beanbag chair. Other than that, the room would hold only notebooks, dozens and dozens of notebooks as well as a computer with a word processor, but no internet. No distractions. Only my writing. I could sit for months and just..write. Whatever thoughts flick through my mind would be placed lovingly on paper or typed onto a screen. I would turn simple ideas into characters embroidered with thoughts, feelings, relationships, and ideas all their own. In my glass room, I could create worlds.
Ideally, the room could change locations. Perhaps after several months of gleaning all I could from one locale, the room would simply relocate so that I might have a new landscape to observe.
For nourishment? I would rather not take a break to eat or drink, but eventually my hands would become weak and my thoughts muddled. So, the room would also need an infinite supply of chai tea and wheat thins. Two things I never get sick of.
With my notebooks, computer, and my provisions, I could happily remain in this place until I have written my fingers down to the bone and exhausted my mind.
Then I would take a break. Come down from my glass room and interact with the world for awhile. For where is inspiration but in creating my own interactions to observe?
My notebooks would remain up in the tower. But perhaps during my break I might connect some of my typed writings to the internet that I might get the feedback of others. But most of my writing is for me. Disorganized, often painful, rarely coherent. Simply to create more space in my mind. Dumbledore had his Penseive* and I, I have my notebooks. To be filled over and over and over and over again with my idle musings. Love it or hate it, my notebooks are always written in pen. That way no matter what I write, it can not be erased. For every piece of writing that comes from a writer has a time and a place. It just has to wait to be seen.
*Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts School in the Harry Potter novels. He was super smart, and sometimes claimed that his head was stuffed too full of thoughts. So he used his magic wand to remove thoughts from his head and place them in a basin called the Penseive. So that explains that.
The room itself would be simply furnished, with only a giant beanbag chair. Other than that, the room would hold only notebooks, dozens and dozens of notebooks as well as a computer with a word processor, but no internet. No distractions. Only my writing. I could sit for months and just..write. Whatever thoughts flick through my mind would be placed lovingly on paper or typed onto a screen. I would turn simple ideas into characters embroidered with thoughts, feelings, relationships, and ideas all their own. In my glass room, I could create worlds.
Ideally, the room could change locations. Perhaps after several months of gleaning all I could from one locale, the room would simply relocate so that I might have a new landscape to observe.
For nourishment? I would rather not take a break to eat or drink, but eventually my hands would become weak and my thoughts muddled. So, the room would also need an infinite supply of chai tea and wheat thins. Two things I never get sick of.
With my notebooks, computer, and my provisions, I could happily remain in this place until I have written my fingers down to the bone and exhausted my mind.
Then I would take a break. Come down from my glass room and interact with the world for awhile. For where is inspiration but in creating my own interactions to observe?
My notebooks would remain up in the tower. But perhaps during my break I might connect some of my typed writings to the internet that I might get the feedback of others. But most of my writing is for me. Disorganized, often painful, rarely coherent. Simply to create more space in my mind. Dumbledore had his Penseive* and I, I have my notebooks. To be filled over and over and over and over again with my idle musings. Love it or hate it, my notebooks are always written in pen. That way no matter what I write, it can not be erased. For every piece of writing that comes from a writer has a time and a place. It just has to wait to be seen.
*Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts School in the Harry Potter novels. He was super smart, and sometimes claimed that his head was stuffed too full of thoughts. So he used his magic wand to remove thoughts from his head and place them in a basin called the Penseive. So that explains that.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Love, Love, Love
Sorry to do two so similarly themed posts so close together, but recent events demand it.
As I said at the end of my last post, there are several new Facebook events springing up to support the gay community and try to show solidarity with victims of homophobic bullying. I joined one such group, actually an event. Here's the link if you want to check it out:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=112861798774522
(Just open a new internet window and copy and paste that link into the address bar.)
Anyway, on the page for the group people are allowed to comment. Because it is an open event, anyone can join and say whatever they want. Freedom of speech.
I was scrolling down the page, reading all of the posts. Most were very kind and loving and supporting. A few, unfortunately, were not. There were several extremely homophobic posts. That's not what really bothered me though.
In reaction to these posts people who claim to be supportive of the gay rights cause became hostile. Many of the responses were threatening and crude. I recommend looking at the site, just for curiosity's sake. I really don't want to repeat some of the nasty stuff. But suffice it to say, the supporters were willing to get just as down and dirty as the ones they are supposedly fighting.
So, I decided to put my two cents in. I left this comment on the page:
" I would just like to take a second to remind the people posting on this wall that the purpose of this group is love. I ally myself with the cause of homosexual rights because members of my family and many of my friends are gay. That does not mean that I hate anyone who is homophobic. It just means that I, along with anyone else who claims to support the cause, have a responsibility to teach the message of love. Supporting gay rights does not equal hating homophobia. Hating those who hate makes us just as bad. Let's share the love, okay? In the words of the eternally wise John Lennon, "All you need is love." "
To which I received the charming comment: "all you need is a dick up your ass"
Really? REALLY?!
I said so many things, yet what you choose to target is JOHN LENNON'S LYRIC?! That sir, is just..GRRRRRRR. Contradict ME all you'd like. But DON'T twist Lennon. THAT SIR is just UNACCEPTABLE.
My point (aside form being mortally sorry for causing John Lennon to roll in his grave) is that those who preach love should practice it.
When I was at the Prop 8 protest a year or so ago, I had a really memorable experience. While we were marching with our rainbow signs, we came across an older couple standing across the street from us. The man grabbed his wife's hand and held it up. "This is marriage!", he yelled. His intention was clearly one of hate. So, laughing, my friends and I all draped our arms around each other and shouted back, "This is love!"
Being a liberal (to me at least) means being open to the other side. Loving your crooked neighbor with all your crooked heart. It's a mean, cruel, hateful world. I don't think that those who are trying to spread a message of love should do so by propagating hate.
In closing, please enjoy a fantastic song by some wonderful men.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It's easy.
There's nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you
in time - It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
There's nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
All you need is love (all together now)
All you need is love (everybody)
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
As I said at the end of my last post, there are several new Facebook events springing up to support the gay community and try to show solidarity with victims of homophobic bullying. I joined one such group, actually an event. Here's the link if you want to check it out:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=112861798774522
(Just open a new internet window and copy and paste that link into the address bar.)
Anyway, on the page for the group people are allowed to comment. Because it is an open event, anyone can join and say whatever they want. Freedom of speech.
I was scrolling down the page, reading all of the posts. Most were very kind and loving and supporting. A few, unfortunately, were not. There were several extremely homophobic posts. That's not what really bothered me though.
In reaction to these posts people who claim to be supportive of the gay rights cause became hostile. Many of the responses were threatening and crude. I recommend looking at the site, just for curiosity's sake. I really don't want to repeat some of the nasty stuff. But suffice it to say, the supporters were willing to get just as down and dirty as the ones they are supposedly fighting.
So, I decided to put my two cents in. I left this comment on the page:
" I would just like to take a second to remind the people posting on this wall that the purpose of this group is love. I ally myself with the cause of homosexual rights because members of my family and many of my friends are gay. That does not mean that I hate anyone who is homophobic. It just means that I, along with anyone else who claims to support the cause, have a responsibility to teach the message of love. Supporting gay rights does not equal hating homophobia. Hating those who hate makes us just as bad. Let's share the love, okay? In the words of the eternally wise John Lennon, "All you need is love." "
To which I received the charming comment: "all you need is a dick up your ass"
Really? REALLY?!
I said so many things, yet what you choose to target is JOHN LENNON'S LYRIC?! That sir, is just..GRRRRRRR. Contradict ME all you'd like. But DON'T twist Lennon. THAT SIR is just UNACCEPTABLE.
My point (aside form being mortally sorry for causing John Lennon to roll in his grave) is that those who preach love should practice it.
When I was at the Prop 8 protest a year or so ago, I had a really memorable experience. While we were marching with our rainbow signs, we came across an older couple standing across the street from us. The man grabbed his wife's hand and held it up. "This is marriage!", he yelled. His intention was clearly one of hate. So, laughing, my friends and I all draped our arms around each other and shouted back, "This is love!"
Being a liberal (to me at least) means being open to the other side. Loving your crooked neighbor with all your crooked heart. It's a mean, cruel, hateful world. I don't think that those who are trying to spread a message of love should do so by propagating hate.
In closing, please enjoy a fantastic song by some wonderful men.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It's easy.
There's nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you
in time - It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
There's nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
All you need is love (all together now)
All you need is love (everybody)
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Kurt Hummel
Because I have a relatively attentive (if small) audience, I am going to write about something I have been thinking about. It's more of a social commentary than anything that has anything to do with my life or with my school. It's news related, sort of. Recently there has been more discussion of homophobia and hate crimes that target homosexuals. So, I'm going to write about Kurt Hummel; the gay character on Glee (one of my absolute favorite TV shows).
For those of you who don't know, Glee is a show about a high school show choir. Kurt Hummel is one of the main characters. Openly gay, Kurt wears fashionable (if extremely effeminate) outfits and is crushing on the quarterback of the football team (Finn Hudson, also in the glee club). Kurt is often referred to as "one of the ladies", and he has an alto voice that any girl would kill for. He in fact sings "Defying Gravity" in a diva-off with Rachel (the glee club's star singer, played by Spring Awakening's Lea Michele), and does astonishingly well. The song, a showstopper from Wicked, is without a doubt a female song.
The question has been asked before whether the character of Kurt is any good for the gay cause. Yes, he is an openly gay character who is lovingly accepted on a popular TV show...but still...
I am going to choose the position that Kurt is not actually good publicity for young homosexual teens. Most high school aged homosexuals are not nearly as open as Kurt, and are in fact aware that it would be dangerous to do so. So he is not a character that anyone can sympathize with. Kurt is more of a caricature than an actual person. He is too wildly "fabulous" to exist in reality.
Apart from not being a sympathetic character, Kurt also embodies many of the characteristics that make people homophobic in the first place. What I find most worrisome is Kurt's aggressive crush on Finn (the football quarterback). This is exactly the kind of thing that straight males worry about. 'What if the gay kid is crushing on me?' To have a televised character obviously pushing his affections on a boy who is unwilling and in any case unable to return the attraction is dangerous. It feeds the ignorant idea that homosexual men are trying to push their ways on straight men. This is not an idea that needs any more support than it already has.
Basically, my problem with the ideology of Kurt is that his only noticeable character trait is "gay". He doesn't offer anything else to the show. He is the gay kid. The astonishingly gay kid.
Don't get me wrong, I love Kurt Hummel to death. But that's because I am fully aware that while people like that do exist, they are not the norm. I am completely supportive of gay rights and not showing hate toward people based on who they choose to love. I just don't think Kurt is particularly good press for the issue. I like the idea of having a gay character in the Glee club, I just think there should be more to him. I think he should be an actual character, who is ALSO gay.
I think that America has come to expect that in television though, and that is why Kurt's existence in Glee has not become a topic of discussion. He is not sneaky about being gay (like, for example, Ennis and Jack in Brokeback Mountain. I might have to write another on of these things about Brokeback...SO GOOD.). Brokeback became a national issue because Ennis and Jack were gay in an area that was thought to be extremely masculine. Kurt is gay in a show choir. It's a little more expected there.
Basically, Glee, rock on. Kurt, in the future I'd like to see a little more of a character. Don't just be gay. Be a person too.
**Enjoy my idle musings :) There isn't much in the way of Brandeis updates...we are having an LGBTQ Candlelight Vigil this week to show solidarity. Even on the Brandeis campus there is still homophobia. I mean, shit. If it exists HERE in liberal utopia, then it has to be everywhere. I don't understand it. I never have. Also, wear purple on October 20 to honor victims of homophobic abuse. Save the date.
For those of you who don't know, Glee is a show about a high school show choir. Kurt Hummel is one of the main characters. Openly gay, Kurt wears fashionable (if extremely effeminate) outfits and is crushing on the quarterback of the football team (Finn Hudson, also in the glee club). Kurt is often referred to as "one of the ladies", and he has an alto voice that any girl would kill for. He in fact sings "Defying Gravity" in a diva-off with Rachel (the glee club's star singer, played by Spring Awakening's Lea Michele), and does astonishingly well. The song, a showstopper from Wicked, is without a doubt a female song.
The question has been asked before whether the character of Kurt is any good for the gay cause. Yes, he is an openly gay character who is lovingly accepted on a popular TV show...but still...
I am going to choose the position that Kurt is not actually good publicity for young homosexual teens. Most high school aged homosexuals are not nearly as open as Kurt, and are in fact aware that it would be dangerous to do so. So he is not a character that anyone can sympathize with. Kurt is more of a caricature than an actual person. He is too wildly "fabulous" to exist in reality.
Apart from not being a sympathetic character, Kurt also embodies many of the characteristics that make people homophobic in the first place. What I find most worrisome is Kurt's aggressive crush on Finn (the football quarterback). This is exactly the kind of thing that straight males worry about. 'What if the gay kid is crushing on me?' To have a televised character obviously pushing his affections on a boy who is unwilling and in any case unable to return the attraction is dangerous. It feeds the ignorant idea that homosexual men are trying to push their ways on straight men. This is not an idea that needs any more support than it already has.
Basically, my problem with the ideology of Kurt is that his only noticeable character trait is "gay". He doesn't offer anything else to the show. He is the gay kid. The astonishingly gay kid.
Don't get me wrong, I love Kurt Hummel to death. But that's because I am fully aware that while people like that do exist, they are not the norm. I am completely supportive of gay rights and not showing hate toward people based on who they choose to love. I just don't think Kurt is particularly good press for the issue. I like the idea of having a gay character in the Glee club, I just think there should be more to him. I think he should be an actual character, who is ALSO gay.
I think that America has come to expect that in television though, and that is why Kurt's existence in Glee has not become a topic of discussion. He is not sneaky about being gay (like, for example, Ennis and Jack in Brokeback Mountain. I might have to write another on of these things about Brokeback...SO GOOD.). Brokeback became a national issue because Ennis and Jack were gay in an area that was thought to be extremely masculine. Kurt is gay in a show choir. It's a little more expected there.
Basically, Glee, rock on. Kurt, in the future I'd like to see a little more of a character. Don't just be gay. Be a person too.
**Enjoy my idle musings :) There isn't much in the way of Brandeis updates...we are having an LGBTQ Candlelight Vigil this week to show solidarity. Even on the Brandeis campus there is still homophobia. I mean, shit. If it exists HERE in liberal utopia, then it has to be everywhere. I don't understand it. I never have. Also, wear purple on October 20 to honor victims of homophobic abuse. Save the date.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Dear Allison Weiss,
You are a wonderful Indie guitarist/singer who I am exceptionally fond of. In fact, I plan on taking one of my very best friends in the known universe to your show in early October.
Anyway, one of your songs is called "Break My Heart", and I am writing this letter to you to reveal to you exactly how far from my truth one of the lyrics is.
The line is thus: "I'm in the passenger seat, of a car that's going nowhere."
The first time I heard the song, I was like, "Oh my god, that just described my life."
Listening to it a few times over though, I realized just how untrue that is.
I definitely feel like I'm going nowhere. I'm sitting in this car, and the steering wheel is freaking locked. I'm not moving, because who moves a car with a locked steering wheel? How the hell could I have any control over where I'm going if I can't steer? Another reason for going nowhere is that I my foot is stomped onto the brake so hard I'm surprised it hasn't burst through the floor of the car. What's really crazy is that I'm standing on the accelerator just as hard. I want to be moving forward just exactly as much as I want to stay where I am. Either way, I can't let my foot off of either pedal because the steering doesn't work so I'd probably just crash anyway.
So...what's wrong with the lyric? Well, Allison, clearly I am not in the passenger seat. I'm clearly in the driver's seat. I am in the DRIVER'S seat of a car that's going nowhere. I have no one to blame for the fact that even if I decide I want to move forward and not stay in the same place forever, I'll end up in a wreck because I have no idea where I'm going or any control over how I get there.
Otherwise, it's a great song. Keep up the good work, and I'll see you at your show!
Hillary
**I realized I hadn't blogged in awhile, but I'm out of entertaining college anecdotes. This is just a peek into my (admittedly rather crazy) mental state. I like metaphors. They're more fun than straight truth.
Anyway, one of your songs is called "Break My Heart", and I am writing this letter to you to reveal to you exactly how far from my truth one of the lyrics is.
The line is thus: "I'm in the passenger seat, of a car that's going nowhere."
The first time I heard the song, I was like, "Oh my god, that just described my life."
Listening to it a few times over though, I realized just how untrue that is.
I definitely feel like I'm going nowhere. I'm sitting in this car, and the steering wheel is freaking locked. I'm not moving, because who moves a car with a locked steering wheel? How the hell could I have any control over where I'm going if I can't steer? Another reason for going nowhere is that I my foot is stomped onto the brake so hard I'm surprised it hasn't burst through the floor of the car. What's really crazy is that I'm standing on the accelerator just as hard. I want to be moving forward just exactly as much as I want to stay where I am. Either way, I can't let my foot off of either pedal because the steering doesn't work so I'd probably just crash anyway.
So...what's wrong with the lyric? Well, Allison, clearly I am not in the passenger seat. I'm clearly in the driver's seat. I am in the DRIVER'S seat of a car that's going nowhere. I have no one to blame for the fact that even if I decide I want to move forward and not stay in the same place forever, I'll end up in a wreck because I have no idea where I'm going or any control over how I get there.
Otherwise, it's a great song. Keep up the good work, and I'll see you at your show!
Hillary
**I realized I hadn't blogged in awhile, but I'm out of entertaining college anecdotes. This is just a peek into my (admittedly rather crazy) mental state. I like metaphors. They're more fun than straight truth.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Maine
I could live in Maine. Just saying.
So, Emily, our friend Jenn, and I took a day trip to Maine yesterday. Ogunquit, specifically. For those of you unfamiliar with Maine geography, Ogunquit is a beautiful little beach town about 90 minutes from Boston. Absolutely amazing.
On a different note, beaches always make me think of my Daddy. As soon as my feet touched the sand (and that was relatively soon after stepping off the pavement, as I kicked my shoes off), I wanted to make a sand castle. That's something he and I would always do. We would create these simple but huge mountains of sand and then decorate them with seaweed and shells and rocks and anything else we could find. It was something we did every time we went to the beach. Just he and I. I guess because Jess was too young to really help. Or maybe it was just because I was Daddy's girl. Another thing we did on the beach was fly kites. Emily h ad never flown one before, and if the beach had been less crowded I probably would have made her go buy a cheap kite so I could teach her. (PS she did end up building a sandcastle with me).
I think the reason beaches still can evoke such strong memories for me is because I don't go to them often enough. I have been to the beach WITH my Dad more times than I have been without him. I'd like to keep it that way. I always want the smell of sand and salt water to make me stop, smile, and remember the Dad who took me on special just Dad-and-Hilly beach dates. My Dad loved the water, and I loved loving it with him. And I miss him every time I am near the ocean. Lots of other times too.
But anyway, I was writing about Maine. Which is lovely. I could really and truly see myself living there. I do realize that it gets freaking cold in the winter, but I think I could handle that. I look good in sweaters :P I think I could rock it. But then again, there also aren't many people in Maine, so it is probably difficult to get a job. But it's close to Canada, so I could smuggle in pharmaceuticals if need be. Kiddinggggg.
Love to all!
So, Emily, our friend Jenn, and I took a day trip to Maine yesterday. Ogunquit, specifically. For those of you unfamiliar with Maine geography, Ogunquit is a beautiful little beach town about 90 minutes from Boston. Absolutely amazing.
On a different note, beaches always make me think of my Daddy. As soon as my feet touched the sand (and that was relatively soon after stepping off the pavement, as I kicked my shoes off), I wanted to make a sand castle. That's something he and I would always do. We would create these simple but huge mountains of sand and then decorate them with seaweed and shells and rocks and anything else we could find. It was something we did every time we went to the beach. Just he and I. I guess because Jess was too young to really help. Or maybe it was just because I was Daddy's girl. Another thing we did on the beach was fly kites. Emily h ad never flown one before, and if the beach had been less crowded I probably would have made her go buy a cheap kite so I could teach her. (PS she did end up building a sandcastle with me).
I think the reason beaches still can evoke such strong memories for me is because I don't go to them often enough. I have been to the beach WITH my Dad more times than I have been without him. I'd like to keep it that way. I always want the smell of sand and salt water to make me stop, smile, and remember the Dad who took me on special just Dad-and-Hilly beach dates. My Dad loved the water, and I loved loving it with him. And I miss him every time I am near the ocean. Lots of other times too.
But anyway, I was writing about Maine. Which is lovely. I could really and truly see myself living there. I do realize that it gets freaking cold in the winter, but I think I could handle that. I look good in sweaters :P I think I could rock it. But then again, there also aren't many people in Maine, so it is probably difficult to get a job. But it's close to Canada, so I could smuggle in pharmaceuticals if need be. Kiddinggggg.
Love to all!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Ready, Set, CLASS!!
Mom: So what are you most excited about for this year?
Me:(thinks about it for a second)Classes.
The saddest part is that I was not kidding. Or being sarcastic. I am absolutely in beautiful nerd love with the classes at Brandeis. Yesterday I had French (enchantee!) and Psych (which I dropped. Promptly.). French was basically like a high school language class, and I just really didn't care enough about Psych to put in the level of work they were asking for.
Today I just got out of my new Anthropology course: Landscapes, Places, Meaning, and Memory Across Cultures. The professor won my heart as soon as he walked into the room. I had gotten there early (because I am pathologically punctual) and everyone was just sort of sitting around waiting for class to start. Oh PS, the desks were arranged in a circular formation with a clear head but there were too many desks for the circle so some were scattered around the edges, clearly not places of authority. Everyone arranged themselves around the room according to how close they did or did not want to be seated to the professor (I might have just made a grammatical butchery of that sentence...oh well.), of course leaving the head desk empty in anticipation of his arrival.
When Professor Golden entered the room however, he sat at one of the edge desks without a word. No introduction, no 'time to start class!'. Just entered and sat in a place unusual for the teacher to sit. It put the whole class into semi-spaz mode as everyone had to decide in a split second how to orient themselves to this new positioning of the room. As he watched this, Professor Golden smiled and said, "Now see how nervous I've made you all? That's the effect that space and placement has on our culture."
OMG. He did NOT just underline the ENTIRE PURPOSE of our class.
Except that he did. In an exquisitely simple but poignant manner.
Wow. You go Professor Golden. You go.
Now I'm off to Adapting and Revising: A Collaborative Process for Prose Writers, Playwrights, and Screenwriters. Hopefully to be wowed again.
Me:(thinks about it for a second)Classes.
The saddest part is that I was not kidding. Or being sarcastic. I am absolutely in beautiful nerd love with the classes at Brandeis. Yesterday I had French (enchantee!) and Psych (which I dropped. Promptly.). French was basically like a high school language class, and I just really didn't care enough about Psych to put in the level of work they were asking for.
Today I just got out of my new Anthropology course: Landscapes, Places, Meaning, and Memory Across Cultures. The professor won my heart as soon as he walked into the room. I had gotten there early (because I am pathologically punctual) and everyone was just sort of sitting around waiting for class to start. Oh PS, the desks were arranged in a circular formation with a clear head but there were too many desks for the circle so some were scattered around the edges, clearly not places of authority. Everyone arranged themselves around the room according to how close they did or did not want to be seated to the professor (I might have just made a grammatical butchery of that sentence...oh well.), of course leaving the head desk empty in anticipation of his arrival.
When Professor Golden entered the room however, he sat at one of the edge desks without a word. No introduction, no 'time to start class!'. Just entered and sat in a place unusual for the teacher to sit. It put the whole class into semi-spaz mode as everyone had to decide in a split second how to orient themselves to this new positioning of the room. As he watched this, Professor Golden smiled and said, "Now see how nervous I've made you all? That's the effect that space and placement has on our culture."
OMG. He did NOT just underline the ENTIRE PURPOSE of our class.
Except that he did. In an exquisitely simple but poignant manner.
Wow. You go Professor Golden. You go.
Now I'm off to Adapting and Revising: A Collaborative Process for Prose Writers, Playwrights, and Screenwriters. Hopefully to be wowed again.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
While You Were Out
Hey everyone!
I'm back!!
That's right kids, I am once again at Brandeis, this time as a SOPHOMORE. Before I dive into this year, I wanted to give you all a bit of a catch-up on what happened during my summer. Oh what a summer it was.
Basically, everything epic that could have happened, DID. Emily (from 'Deis) came to visit, there was tons of stargazing and hanging out with people who are fantastic and mean absolutely everything to me, there was some time spent with a really awesome boy who ended up being...well...just a boy (friends to the end...), and there was this super awesome play that I got to direct. That I wrote. That starred only the most incredible cast EVER. Apparently they liked me too because they gave me roses and a framed picture that they wrote nice things all over :)
So summer was great. Beautiful. Ended too soon, but doesn't it always?
I'll post more about the first few days on campus in a bit. But now I must dash. Lunch date!
I'm back!!
That's right kids, I am once again at Brandeis, this time as a SOPHOMORE. Before I dive into this year, I wanted to give you all a bit of a catch-up on what happened during my summer. Oh what a summer it was.
Basically, everything epic that could have happened, DID. Emily (from 'Deis) came to visit, there was tons of stargazing and hanging out with people who are fantastic and mean absolutely everything to me, there was some time spent with a really awesome boy who ended up being...well...just a boy (friends to the end...), and there was this super awesome play that I got to direct. That I wrote. That starred only the most incredible cast EVER. Apparently they liked me too because they gave me roses and a framed picture that they wrote nice things all over :)
So summer was great. Beautiful. Ended too soon, but doesn't it always?
I'll post more about the first few days on campus in a bit. But now I must dash. Lunch date!
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