After sleeping for thirteen hours (yay!) and missing the school end of term party (boo!) last Friday night, I'm feeling rested, happy, and fully in the Christmas spirit. There are outdoor markets and Christmas carols and warm spirits everywhere. The biking weather is perfect - cold and crisp and speedy. London during this season is a wonderful place to be.
Last week, Persefoni surprised us at the house with a fat little Christmas tree. We made ornaments out of cardboard painted red and strung some lights around it, and it's done more than it's part to contribute to the holiday cheer. For his birthday on Saturday night Karim made copious amounts of very alcoholic eggnog, and my Saturday afternoon was spent with Simon (so dear to my heart) wandering through Broadway market and going to the cinema. Sunday was a lounge day, with a brief excursion to Spitalfields Market and Brick Lane, an outing to the cinema (again) to see Once, and drinks with Karim before a quiet evening in doing laundry and watching a movie with the girls.
It feels so good to have this term behind me. It was a great term, but it was exhausting to a degree that I hope I never have to experience again. I'm so happy to be going home (tomorrow!) to see my family, my friends, my dog, and sleep and eat and relax. Oh my, oh my, it's going to be such an amazing holiday.
Monday 17 December 2007
Sunday 16 December 2007
Why I love living with theatre students
Baerbel: (paging through a huge hardcover book on the floor) What's this? The Bible?
Karim: Nope, it's Shakespeare. Same thing.
Karim: Nope, it's Shakespeare. Same thing.
Friday 14 December 2007
Aftermath
We performed our piece last night in front of over a hundred people, nearly all students of the school. From nine that morning, we'd been at the performance space creating new scenes, writing new dialogue, changing our minds, arguing, reconciling, rehearsing, panicking, and ploughing through. We ended up keeping parts of the poem that made the choice to be a suicide bomber somehow soft, beautiful, glorified. But we also added closing narration that (hopefully) made any message much more ambiguous; spoke about the Israeli people that were killed as a result of that choice - the men, and women, and children. We added a scene in Jerusalem towards the beginning, but ended up reverting to our original scene because we didn't feel comfortable in the new one - we hadn't had enough time to rehearse it with all the other new material and dialogue, and it seemed too much to add yet another change. (I wonder now how the piece would've been different if we'd kept it.) At half past seven, the audience arrived, and we began the presentation.
Halfway through our piece, a girl from the morning group, who was Israeli, walked out.
Some of my classmates, from other groups or classes, saw this as something to be proud of - not because we offended someone per se, but because we presented something strong enough to provoke strong reactions. But being onstage and hearing the footsteps out of the audience and the closed door in the back of the room was difficult. In that moment, all I could think of was that, on some level, art that I had helped to create had hurt someone.
In the feedback session afterwards, even though I think our piece was arguably one of the least notable on a theatrical and technical level, nearly all the comments were directed to us, many of them highly critical. Some, I felt, were even gratuitous. But there were also the people who said, regardless of how they felt about the subject, that they thought we were brave to even attempt it, and that they wanted to commend us for choosing the challenge.
Last night, with that very charged performance and very intense feedback coming at the end of a very long day and term, I was pretty exhausted and devastated. I nearly didn't go out with the rest of the school after the performance - I didn't know how to speak about the piece and was scared of what others might say to me about it in closer, more personal proximity. We stirred up something very visceral in a lot of people. Understandably so: we chose a highly political, controversial subject, and we attempted to give a voice to a perspective and choice which is in many ways inconceiveable to those of us outside of the situation. But I did go out, and I'm glad I did, because it gave me more perspective as other's shared their perspectives with me. More than that, I'm glad we chose this subject, this viewpoint. I'm glad we tried. Now, the following morning, I'm more forgiving of myself, our piece, the choices our group made than I was in those first shell-shocked moments after the performance. I know that, as an artist who is interested in contemporary issues and socio-political concerns, I cannot allow myself to become paralyzed by speaking too close to someone's heart. In a way, I feel immensely fortunate to have been able to perform this (very rough, incredibly imperfect) piece to people who know the situation much more personally and disagreed violently with what we had to say, or how we said it. (I didn't get the chance to talk to her after the performance, but some of other members of my group did, and it sounds as though that conversation was an enriching, mutually respectful one.) I feel fortunate to be at a school that lets (even encourages us) to push into risky territory, and who support us even when we fantastically fail. I don't think there's any place we could have worked on and presented this piece that would have been nearly as safe and supportive as this school, while still being honest about the dangers and the strengths of what we showed.
I don't think we've finished with this work, with this piece in particular. We've only just scratched the surface of a subject that is obscenely tangled and complex, and I think that at the end of the day, every member in our group was galvanized by the feedback we received last night, whether it was criticism or praise. At the beginning of the fourth term, the class will be given three weeks to rework and revisit projects they'd begun earlier in the year - I think this will be one of them.
Halfway through our piece, a girl from the morning group, who was Israeli, walked out.
Some of my classmates, from other groups or classes, saw this as something to be proud of - not because we offended someone per se, but because we presented something strong enough to provoke strong reactions. But being onstage and hearing the footsteps out of the audience and the closed door in the back of the room was difficult. In that moment, all I could think of was that, on some level, art that I had helped to create had hurt someone.
In the feedback session afterwards, even though I think our piece was arguably one of the least notable on a theatrical and technical level, nearly all the comments were directed to us, many of them highly critical. Some, I felt, were even gratuitous. But there were also the people who said, regardless of how they felt about the subject, that they thought we were brave to even attempt it, and that they wanted to commend us for choosing the challenge.
Last night, with that very charged performance and very intense feedback coming at the end of a very long day and term, I was pretty exhausted and devastated. I nearly didn't go out with the rest of the school after the performance - I didn't know how to speak about the piece and was scared of what others might say to me about it in closer, more personal proximity. We stirred up something very visceral in a lot of people. Understandably so: we chose a highly political, controversial subject, and we attempted to give a voice to a perspective and choice which is in many ways inconceiveable to those of us outside of the situation. But I did go out, and I'm glad I did, because it gave me more perspective as other's shared their perspectives with me. More than that, I'm glad we chose this subject, this viewpoint. I'm glad we tried. Now, the following morning, I'm more forgiving of myself, our piece, the choices our group made than I was in those first shell-shocked moments after the performance. I know that, as an artist who is interested in contemporary issues and socio-political concerns, I cannot allow myself to become paralyzed by speaking too close to someone's heart. In a way, I feel immensely fortunate to have been able to perform this (very rough, incredibly imperfect) piece to people who know the situation much more personally and disagreed violently with what we had to say, or how we said it. (I didn't get the chance to talk to her after the performance, but some of other members of my group did, and it sounds as though that conversation was an enriching, mutually respectful one.) I feel fortunate to be at a school that lets (even encourages us) to push into risky territory, and who support us even when we fantastically fail. I don't think there's any place we could have worked on and presented this piece that would have been nearly as safe and supportive as this school, while still being honest about the dangers and the strengths of what we showed.
I don't think we've finished with this work, with this piece in particular. We've only just scratched the surface of a subject that is obscenely tangled and complex, and I think that at the end of the day, every member in our group was galvanized by the feedback we received last night, whether it was criticism or praise. At the beginning of the fourth term, the class will be given three weeks to rework and revisit projects they'd begun earlier in the year - I think this will be one of them.
Wednesday 12 December 2007
Backfire
We performed our piece for the teachers yesterday. Turns out that, in spite of our best intentions and completely without realising it, we've come up with something that's highly political. Not (as far as I'm concerned) in a good way. The word "glorifying" was used, and when you're dealing with the subject matter of Palestinian suicide bombers, that's the last word you want to hear. It was really disheartening, and I was even more upset upon further discussion amongst our group where it seemed to me that I was (and am) the only one who feels this way. I mean, everyone agrees we have to change the ending so it doesn't look as though we're glorifying suicide bombers, but the alternative endings that have been proposed at this point as far as I'm concerned don't at all solve the problem, they just make it more subtle and not as in-your-face. It's important to me that we show why she makes the choice she does, but it's even more important to me that we don't hold it up as an example of the only option. And it's important to me that we acknowledge the aftermath as well - that her choice results in the death of other human beings, that her daughter is orphaned...
There is no easy answer to this situation. That's why it's been going on for decades upon decades with no end in sight. I don't want to give an answer, and I certainly don't want to be a part of a piece that ends up looking like propaganda. That's the furthest thing from what I want.
There is no easy answer to this situation. That's why it's been going on for decades upon decades with no end in sight. I don't want to give an answer, and I certainly don't want to be a part of a piece that ends up looking like propaganda. That's the furthest thing from what I want.
Tuesday 11 December 2007
Mama bear
She has an enormous heart, and an incredibly generous spirit. I don't know a single person more welcoming and warm, who treats each new person she meets as though they're already a friend.
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and sometimes when she laughs she snorts, which makes her laugh harder.
When she cooks for others, you can taste the love in the food. She loves to cook for others.
She is unabashedly joyful.
However reluctant you are, you will sing rounds with her. You will play games. And you will have fun.
Basically, she's amazing. I continue learn so much from her about growing and warmth and giving. Happy birthday, Mama. You're the bestest.
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and sometimes when she laughs she snorts, which makes her laugh harder.
When she cooks for others, you can taste the love in the food. She loves to cook for others.
She is unabashedly joyful.
However reluctant you are, you will sing rounds with her. You will play games. And you will have fun.
Basically, she's amazing. I continue learn so much from her about growing and warmth and giving. Happy birthday, Mama. You're the bestest.
Monday 10 December 2007
Clockworkworld
I've got a world in my head, and it's all eaten up by this piece. This is another thing that I love about being a creator - your work eats you. In a good way. When the process is good and interesting and engaging (and this does not mean easy), it's all-encompassing - your brain is always ticking like mad, and your heart rate increases, and adrenaline is triggered by something as simple as an idea, an image, a small eureka (that probably won't end up working in the space anyway.) I am energized and exhausted and exhilerated (yes, all three). Here's hoping the teachers like the piece tomorrow as much as I do.
Friday 7 December 2007
Continuing improvement
It's nearly official: as of January, I'll hopefully be taking a cut in hours in Kensington, and only working three days a week there. That means that instead of the 14-hour-days-six-days-a-week-and-one-day-off I've been doing for the past two months, I'll be having 14-hour-days-three-or-four-days-a-week, two half-days, and one day off. Huzzah! Now that's what I call manageable.
School is feeling more manageable as well, largely because we have practically no classes for the remainder of the term - only hours and hours of rehearsal/creation time. Our piece on Palestine is shaping up really nicely, I think: we're struggling a lot, and there's still a lot of investigation in terms of structure and dramatic build, and even plot, but we're definitely struggling together, and there's a lot of support for each other within this group. I'm really proud of us, and the work we're doing, and how much everyone is putting into the piece. It's been a really good experience (touch wood.) We'll have another twelve hours of rehearsal before we perform for the teachers again on Tuesday, and then another twelve hours before our final in-house presentation for the Initiation Course and the rest of the Advanced Group on Thursday night. I'm really looking forward to next week - seeing everyone else's completed pieces, and performing for the Initiation Course. I can't wait to share with them: I remember last year watching the melodrama/epic piece presentation of the second years, and how powerful it was to see their work. How inspiring it was. I'm hoping the pieces we're creating will have a similar effect on the first years this time around.
But before the performance, there's still much rehearsal to be had - much delving, and creating, and rearranging, and twisting, and polishing, and molding. And as excited as I am to see what we emerge with, I'm really really enjoying the journey.
School is feeling more manageable as well, largely because we have practically no classes for the remainder of the term - only hours and hours of rehearsal/creation time. Our piece on Palestine is shaping up really nicely, I think: we're struggling a lot, and there's still a lot of investigation in terms of structure and dramatic build, and even plot, but we're definitely struggling together, and there's a lot of support for each other within this group. I'm really proud of us, and the work we're doing, and how much everyone is putting into the piece. It's been a really good experience (touch wood.) We'll have another twelve hours of rehearsal before we perform for the teachers again on Tuesday, and then another twelve hours before our final in-house presentation for the Initiation Course and the rest of the Advanced Group on Thursday night. I'm really looking forward to next week - seeing everyone else's completed pieces, and performing for the Initiation Course. I can't wait to share with them: I remember last year watching the melodrama/epic piece presentation of the second years, and how powerful it was to see their work. How inspiring it was. I'm hoping the pieces we're creating will have a similar effect on the first years this time around.
But before the performance, there's still much rehearsal to be had - much delving, and creating, and rearranging, and twisting, and polishing, and molding. And as excited as I am to see what we emerge with, I'm really really enjoying the journey.
Wednesday 5 December 2007
The calm after the storm
My head feels clearer today than it has in weeks. I still haven't talked to the school, or to my boss about the fact that I won't be able to extend my contract (and may actually have to cut it short), but I'm feeling more confident, more okay, than I have in ages. This might have something to do with the fact that the dam finally, genuinely broke yesterday, resulting in a two-hour crying jag which took me from work through central London and into my first hour of school. I feel like it washed me clean. Like I had to break to heal again.
Creation last night was also really productive and great. We finally know what our story is, and have so many ideas of how to tell it. I have so much faith in my creation partners and in the potential of this piece. Most importantly at the moment, I feel like I've found my faith in myself again. When you're in a place so dark and small and exhausted as I have been the past couple of weeks, you start doubting the things that are usually so clear - I started thinking that maybe I didn't belong at this school, that I wasn't able to make theatre, that I didn't have any particular talent or skill or anything to offer, that I wasn't anything special or helpful or useful. But again last night, I was able to contribute to the group, to be excited about our work together, to be and give myself again. It felt so good. I was literally giddy with relief by the end of the evening. Thank God. I had been so scared that I wouldn't find my way again.
Not that I'm out of the woods yet. I'm fully aware of the dangers of a false sense of security and I'm going to try my hardest to take the necessary steps now to make sure this type of melt/breakdown doesn't happen again next week/term/year. But in this moment, I'm looking forward to only a week more of rehearsal-only, shorter days, and I'm very, very glad to be back.
Creation last night was also really productive and great. We finally know what our story is, and have so many ideas of how to tell it. I have so much faith in my creation partners and in the potential of this piece. Most importantly at the moment, I feel like I've found my faith in myself again. When you're in a place so dark and small and exhausted as I have been the past couple of weeks, you start doubting the things that are usually so clear - I started thinking that maybe I didn't belong at this school, that I wasn't able to make theatre, that I didn't have any particular talent or skill or anything to offer, that I wasn't anything special or helpful or useful. But again last night, I was able to contribute to the group, to be excited about our work together, to be and give myself again. It felt so good. I was literally giddy with relief by the end of the evening. Thank God. I had been so scared that I wouldn't find my way again.
Not that I'm out of the woods yet. I'm fully aware of the dangers of a false sense of security and I'm going to try my hardest to take the necessary steps now to make sure this type of melt/breakdown doesn't happen again next week/term/year. But in this moment, I'm looking forward to only a week more of rehearsal-only, shorter days, and I'm very, very glad to be back.
Tuesday 4 December 2007
Wake-up call
Aren't friends a pain in the butt? You know the ones I mean... the ones who lure you to their home with tea and intricately decorated Christmas cookies, who give you a shoulder to cry on and tell you what you need to hear. Not what you want to hear necessarily, but what you need to hear. Isabel, you cannot do this to yourself. Isabel, you can't keep this up. Isabel, I've seen you in tears more this term than I did the whole of last year. Isabel, you're exhausted and unhappy. Isabel, something's gotta give.
And she's right. And something does. And I'm hoping that this support and sit-down session will give me the kick in the pants necessary to at least talk to the administration of the school and, if nothing else, let them know where I'm at, which is close to collapse.
And she's right. And something does. And I'm hoping that this support and sit-down session will give me the kick in the pants necessary to at least talk to the administration of the school and, if nothing else, let them know where I'm at, which is close to collapse.
Monday 3 December 2007
Let the countdown begin
Two weeks from tomorrow I'll be home for Christmas in Minneapolis.
(And a month from today, I'll be back at home in London.)
(And a month from today, I'll be back at home in London.)
Friday 30 November 2007
Righting the balance
And sometimes it just takes an evening in with friends, watching ridiculous 80s movies and eating homemade pizza, to make everything seem alright again.
Wednesday 28 November 2007
More than whelmed
Yesterday was one of those days where at one point I just had to let myself cry for awhile. I'm feeling overwhelmed by a lot of things these days. Learning about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is hard. Trying to determine my place in the school and in my life right now is hard. Feeling a little isolated is hard. Not getting enough alone-time is hard. Not having the time to really connect with my friends is hard. Working too much is hard. Having a crazy-long commute is hard. Not knowing what I want is hard...
*sigh*
The list goes on.
I am ok. I'm hanging in there. Sometimes things aren't easy, and that's ok. Let's just say that I'm really looking forward to coming home for Christmas.
Tuesday 27 November 2007
Quasiland
I left on Friday night, got back at 5:30 on Sunday, was in bed by 7pm, and slept. For fourteen hours straight.
It was an incredibly exhausting, stressful, challenging weekend. And I'm so tremendously glad I went.
It was an incredibly exhausting, stressful, challenging weekend. And I'm so tremendously glad I went.
Friday 23 November 2007
The storyteller's right
Over the past couple of days, our class has been trying to determine which stories we want to tell for our final project of the term. The format is epic theatre, and the recommendation is to take a human story against a historical backdrop - a time of political upheaval, of war, of off-balance. We started out with about a dozen stories, and it looks as though we've narrowed it down to three themes for as many groups: the slave trade, a George Orwell story about the British occupation of Burma called Shooting an Elephant, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
I chose to be in the last group, and I'm fucking terrified. We haven't chosen a story yet, but just that story, the theme of that conflict is so scary to me. I don't know that it's a story that I feel qualified to tell. It's so present and real and bloody and messy and complicated. In a way there's no objective distance from this theme, and in a way there's far too much. I'm terrified of messing it up. I'm terrified that sometime in the next five years I'll find myself in the West Bank (which could easily happen, based on this peacework investigation I've been doing of late) and feel like I told the wrong story or didn't do it right, or got it wrong. I'm terrified of preaching about something I know nothing about. I'm afraid of presenting in front of the two Israeli students in the morning group, and their reactions, whatever they may be.
And it's far too early in the process to freak out, in a way. But there is something in my gut that is very aware of how hard this will be, and how dangerous it is.
If we pull it off, if we're able to find a supremely human story to extricate from that ridiculous painful political mess, than it will be absolutely powerful and incredible and amazing theatre. If. But right now, when it's early enough that we haven't, I have misgivings galore.
I chose to be in the last group, and I'm fucking terrified. We haven't chosen a story yet, but just that story, the theme of that conflict is so scary to me. I don't know that it's a story that I feel qualified to tell. It's so present and real and bloody and messy and complicated. In a way there's no objective distance from this theme, and in a way there's far too much. I'm terrified of messing it up. I'm terrified that sometime in the next five years I'll find myself in the West Bank (which could easily happen, based on this peacework investigation I've been doing of late) and feel like I told the wrong story or didn't do it right, or got it wrong. I'm terrified of preaching about something I know nothing about. I'm afraid of presenting in front of the two Israeli students in the morning group, and their reactions, whatever they may be.
And it's far too early in the process to freak out, in a way. But there is something in my gut that is very aware of how hard this will be, and how dangerous it is.
If we pull it off, if we're able to find a supremely human story to extricate from that ridiculous painful political mess, than it will be absolutely powerful and incredible and amazing theatre. If. But right now, when it's early enough that we haven't, I have misgivings galore.
Thursday 22 November 2007
Some light reading
Here's the first draft of one of our assignments for Company Development. We are "forming a company", and were asked to answer these questions about ourselves. Here's what we came up with:
Company Development
Five Questions
Group: Baerbel, Natali, Agnese, Persefoni, Isabel
What do we do?
We create collaborative theatre that is deeply human and therefore deeply political. It is a theatre about what moves the world, what moves human beings, and what moves us. Our point of departure is twofold, as we take inspiration both from pre-existing canonical texts, and also from current events. Through the revisiting of old works in different countries and through the lens of different cultural contexts, we hope to reveal the underlying humanity and universal truths of the classics. However, we also have an emphasis on original devised work that is inspired by true, seemingly insignificant events: for example, we may devise a piece surrounding a newspaper article about a Siberian village population that has been displaced as a result of railroad development, or about a café owner in Baghdad who continually reopens his shop in the midst of war. Depending on the topic or theme, we look to incorporate and utilise theatrical forms or cultural traditions (including rituals, songs, dances, etc) that may support the theme or reveal a new meaning or deeper human truth. In this way we endeavour to draw from all cultures and styles, to challenge and inspire our audience, and to reflect upon our times and human condition: the joy as well as the sorrow, the beauty as well as the ugliness inherent in life.
Why do we do what we do?
We live in a world that is increasingly globalised, yet increasingly divided. In times such as these, it is more important than ever to seek to illuminate and understand what makes us human, and the ties that bind across cultures, language, and experience. We believe that theatre is a truly human form of communication, which enables a communion between performer and audience that is unmatched in any other medium. We believe in the right of the global community to have its stories told, as well as the right of the global community to hear those stories. We hope to open a door to a greater awareness of the world and the human condition as it is experienced elsewhere. We create theatre for the sake of presenting a new point of view, for the sake of education, for the sake of revealing a deeper humanity that may take us some small step closer to understanding the ties that bind over those conflicts that would tear us apart.
Why do we exist as a group?
As a group of theatre artists, we embody the type of theatre we would like to create: internationally diverse, artistically adventurous, intellectually curious, and socially concerned. With five members, we represent five nationalities and five different mother tongues, yet we speak the same theatrical language (thanks largely to our collective training at the London International School of Performing Arts.) Similarly, as we seek to find a deeper universal language in our work, we can seek within our group to discover that human essence that reaches beyond cultural experience and upbringing. More practically, our widespread geographical roots give us an inestimable advantage in networking, as well as opportunities to create theatre all over the world.
Who do we do it for?
Our theatre is accessible enough that it can be appreciated and enjoyed by people from all walks of life, all cultures and backgrounds. The specific audience will vary from project to project, depending on our location at the time and the community in which we find ourselves. The constant is that we do theatre for the community in which we exist.
Where do we do it?
Our theatre is a theatre in motion. We operate on the principle of a “floating base,” which means that our theatrical home would change every 2-5 years. Within that span of time, however, we would embark on projects of 3-12 months that would take place elsewhere in the world. For example: though we have a space that we return to regularly in (insert location here) (our “base”), we may spend 9 months living and working in a village in India re-envisioning Hamlet within their cultural context and collaborating with that immediate community before returning to our base to share that work with an international audience. Often the sharing of such a production with the audience and public found at our base and through international touring will provide the financial means to continue the work of the company, and to fund subsequent projects.
Company Development
Five Questions
Group: Baerbel, Natali, Agnese, Persefoni, Isabel
What do we do?
We create collaborative theatre that is deeply human and therefore deeply political. It is a theatre about what moves the world, what moves human beings, and what moves us. Our point of departure is twofold, as we take inspiration both from pre-existing canonical texts, and also from current events. Through the revisiting of old works in different countries and through the lens of different cultural contexts, we hope to reveal the underlying humanity and universal truths of the classics. However, we also have an emphasis on original devised work that is inspired by true, seemingly insignificant events: for example, we may devise a piece surrounding a newspaper article about a Siberian village population that has been displaced as a result of railroad development, or about a café owner in Baghdad who continually reopens his shop in the midst of war. Depending on the topic or theme, we look to incorporate and utilise theatrical forms or cultural traditions (including rituals, songs, dances, etc) that may support the theme or reveal a new meaning or deeper human truth. In this way we endeavour to draw from all cultures and styles, to challenge and inspire our audience, and to reflect upon our times and human condition: the joy as well as the sorrow, the beauty as well as the ugliness inherent in life.
Why do we do what we do?
We live in a world that is increasingly globalised, yet increasingly divided. In times such as these, it is more important than ever to seek to illuminate and understand what makes us human, and the ties that bind across cultures, language, and experience. We believe that theatre is a truly human form of communication, which enables a communion between performer and audience that is unmatched in any other medium. We believe in the right of the global community to have its stories told, as well as the right of the global community to hear those stories. We hope to open a door to a greater awareness of the world and the human condition as it is experienced elsewhere. We create theatre for the sake of presenting a new point of view, for the sake of education, for the sake of revealing a deeper humanity that may take us some small step closer to understanding the ties that bind over those conflicts that would tear us apart.
Why do we exist as a group?
As a group of theatre artists, we embody the type of theatre we would like to create: internationally diverse, artistically adventurous, intellectually curious, and socially concerned. With five members, we represent five nationalities and five different mother tongues, yet we speak the same theatrical language (thanks largely to our collective training at the London International School of Performing Arts.) Similarly, as we seek to find a deeper universal language in our work, we can seek within our group to discover that human essence that reaches beyond cultural experience and upbringing. More practically, our widespread geographical roots give us an inestimable advantage in networking, as well as opportunities to create theatre all over the world.
Who do we do it for?
Our theatre is accessible enough that it can be appreciated and enjoyed by people from all walks of life, all cultures and backgrounds. The specific audience will vary from project to project, depending on our location at the time and the community in which we find ourselves. The constant is that we do theatre for the community in which we exist.
Where do we do it?
Our theatre is a theatre in motion. We operate on the principle of a “floating base,” which means that our theatrical home would change every 2-5 years. Within that span of time, however, we would embark on projects of 3-12 months that would take place elsewhere in the world. For example: though we have a space that we return to regularly in (insert location here) (our “base”), we may spend 9 months living and working in a village in India re-envisioning Hamlet within their cultural context and collaborating with that immediate community before returning to our base to share that work with an international audience. Often the sharing of such a production with the audience and public found at our base and through international touring will provide the financial means to continue the work of the company, and to fund subsequent projects.
Wednesday 21 November 2007
Tipping the scales
Life feels schizophrenic these days.
Good things:
Good things:
- The Intro to Civilian Protection workshop on Sunday went well
- I started cycling again this past weekend
- Due to a series of events, I can now afford to do the residential simulation peacework course this weekend
- I'm proud of the commedia piece we presented yesterday, and I love my group
- I'm really excited about tackling epic theatre
- Classmates have found really interesting stories to try to translate to the stage
- I feel incredibly blessed to be at this school
Bad things:
- I'm exhausted, and I don't know how much longer I can maintain this schedule
Sometimes one or two bad things is all it takes to mitigate a bunch of good things. Not that life is terrible at the moment - far from it. It just makes me a little sad sometimes when I realise how much more I could appreciate the good things, if only I had the time and energy to do so.
Friday 16 November 2007
Writer's block
I have a newfound respect for writers. I'm trying to work on my one-woman crucifixion show* and it's much more difficult than I thought it would be. Props to playwrights. It's harder than it looks. (Not that I ever thought it was easy, but.)
And speaking of Jesus and writing, here's an ad in the tube that keeps making me laugh. It's for a book that just came out called The Gospel of the Second Coming and the tagline is: "Jesus is back - and this time he's funny!" How amused am I?
*Sometimes I'm also amused thinking about the random phrases that, when googled, could potentially lead people to my blog. "One woman crucifixion show"? "Lesbian love fest"? Oh, the possibilities...
And speaking of Jesus and writing, here's an ad in the tube that keeps making me laugh. It's for a book that just came out called The Gospel of the Second Coming and the tagline is: "Jesus is back - and this time he's funny!" How amused am I?
*Sometimes I'm also amused thinking about the random phrases that, when googled, could potentially lead people to my blog. "One woman crucifixion show"? "Lesbian love fest"? Oh, the possibilities...
Thursday 15 November 2007
Part of the problem
You know, when I wrote that "I'm so happy!" entry yesterday, I knew that things were gonna turn around. I mean, that's just part of the way it works. There's always at least a little bit of other-shoe-droppage when things are going well, and the case holds here.
I'm not going to go too much into detail: suffice it to say that over the past day or two, information and emotions have come to light amongst my creation group that the group hasn't been working well, people have felt stepped on, etc. And as I wasn't aware of all these feelings of upset and frustration, I can only assume that I'm more a part of the problem than of the solution.
Resolution for the week: Listen more. Pay attention. It's not all about you.
I'm not going to go too much into detail: suffice it to say that over the past day or two, information and emotions have come to light amongst my creation group that the group hasn't been working well, people have felt stepped on, etc. And as I wasn't aware of all these feelings of upset and frustration, I can only assume that I'm more a part of the problem than of the solution.
Resolution for the week: Listen more. Pay attention. It's not all about you.
Wednesday 14 November 2007
Walkin' on sunshine, whoa-oh!
I'm so excited by my school at the moment. Here's why:
- I had my voice tutorial with Simon R last Saturday, and it was super great. He is super great. I was a little terrified going in, and sure enough he made me do the kinosphere exercise, but it was really ... well, great. Yay voice.
- Our Company Development class is awesome and we get really interesting, exciting homework assignments. This week we've had to break ourselves into little "companies" and answer questions about who we are as a group, what kind of art we want to make, for whom, why, etc. My group consists of myself, Natali, Agnese, Persefoni, and Baerbel, and I am so inspired by them. Remember when I said I wasn't sure that there were people that shared my artistic vision? That's not entirely the case. I love articulating what we love and feel is important with these girls.
- This week we get to do research into epic short stories to translate to stage. It was suggested that we try to find specific, human stories using a backdrop of major historical events. I immediately thought of Sophie Scholl and The White Rose which, though admittedly non-fiction, still fits the bill. I'll also be going to the library after work to check out some short story anthologies.
- Yesterday was a day that just kept getting better. After a iffy-but-fun presentation and then literally falling asleep under Baerbel's massaging hands in Ilan's class, we had Thomas. He introduced us to solo storytelling, and the technique and adventure and fun of playing all the characters yourself. Our theme for solo improv in front of the class was: you're a ticket scalper at Jesus' crucifixion - what did you see? what happened while you were there? And then we essentially let our imaginations run wild. Mine culminated in a cat-fight between Mary Magdalene and Momma Mary, and I had sooooooo much fun.
- AND! Thomas said if we want to, we can work on these little solo storytelling projects on our own time and perform them for the class and teachers on presentation days! I'm really going to try to work on mine, I think. Diogo has said he can help direct. I'm super excited.
After class, a bunch of us went out to the corner pub and just had a really lovely, laughy fun time. It was the first time I'd really properly been out with classmates since school started, and it was just lovely. I'm tired at work today and my eyes are itchy from my contacts, but I don't mind. I don't mind at all.
Monday 12 November 2007
The stars know me well...
So this morning on the tube I'm reading my free paper, like you do, and of course end up on the comics/games/horoscope page at the back. And I read my horoscope, just for the hell of it:
LIBRA: Good financial news helps you greet the week with a smile. Resist going shopping, though. It's hardly fair for you to spend all your good fortune before your piggy bank even gets a whiff of it.
"Hah," I thought. "How could I possibly get good financial news today? I get paid on Thursday, it's true, but I know how much that's going to be, and while it's nice, it's nothing unexpected."
When I got to work, there was an announcement on the intranet that our payslips were available for early viewing. I checked it out... and found that it was £200 more than usual. I even called payroll to make sure there hadn't been a mistake... there hadn't. (It was some backpay thingamajiggy - it's only a one-time deal, but still!)
Oh man, do I love the stars today. But it is a bit of a struggle to remind myself that this money needs to go towards my towering tuition bill, NOT towards another peaceworkers weekend... or some boots... or a teal cordouroy jacket...
Bad Isabel. Be responsible. It's hardly fair for you to spend all your good fortune before your piggy bank even gets a whiff of it.
LIBRA: Good financial news helps you greet the week with a smile. Resist going shopping, though. It's hardly fair for you to spend all your good fortune before your piggy bank even gets a whiff of it.
"Hah," I thought. "How could I possibly get good financial news today? I get paid on Thursday, it's true, but I know how much that's going to be, and while it's nice, it's nothing unexpected."
When I got to work, there was an announcement on the intranet that our payslips were available for early viewing. I checked it out... and found that it was £200 more than usual. I even called payroll to make sure there hadn't been a mistake... there hadn't. (It was some backpay thingamajiggy - it's only a one-time deal, but still!)
Oh man, do I love the stars today. But it is a bit of a struggle to remind myself that this money needs to go towards my towering tuition bill, NOT towards another peaceworkers weekend... or some boots... or a teal cordouroy jacket...
Bad Isabel. Be responsible. It's hardly fair for you to spend all your good fortune before your piggy bank even gets a whiff of it.
Friday 9 November 2007
Peacework and Performance
There's no excuse, really, for my prolonged cyber silence of late. There's been plenty going on, and therefore plenty to write about, yet somehow a week has slipped by and I don't know where to begin. We'll start with last weekend.
Last weekend was my Introduction to Working in Conflict course, and it was nothing short of inspiring. I've been interested in peacework since I read some UN volunteers' joint memoir in late summer of 2004, and in international development work for much longer, but it had always seemed like an unattainable goal, intimidating in its sprawl and importance. No longer! Not only do I feel that I have a much better idea of what peacework is and all the different fields and projects it can encompass, I feel that it's something I Could Do. I can do. There were lots of different areas that appealed to me, but some of the ones that have stayed in my mind were short term election observation (as a good foot-in-the-door way to start with peacework), listening projects (helping people to deal with trauma experienced through conflict by simply listening to their stories), and protective accompaniment. This last one in particular really set me on fire. One of our guest speakers was a woman with Peace Brigades International, which is a group that has a presence in Colombia, Mexico, Guatemala, Indonesia, and Nepal. In these countries, there are ordinary people who are doing incredible things for human rights; and as a result, their lives are in danger. Volunteers with PBI simply accompany these amazing individuals as they continue their human rights work, providing an international and conspicuous presence, and making them safer simply through their presence; possibly even saving their lives, however implicitly.
Can you imagine that? Can you imagine living in Indonesia, or Mexico, or Colombia for a year, observing ordinary people do extraordinary things in the interest of humanity, and simply by your presence helping them to continue that work? It gives me goosebumps. It seems like such an amazing opportunity, such important work.
I've signed up for another workshop, this one only day-long, on Civilian Protection. This will go into more detail with the work PBI does, as well as other organisations like them.
As wonderful as last weekend was, though, it has resulted in something of a split: last week I wrote about my Dream Life as an Artist, and last weekend I started to envision my Dream Life as a Peaceworker. They're not neccesarily different lives, but they're very different paths. Does that make sense? I feel that I'm beginning to understand my own potential, and that these things that I've dreamed about truly are possible... and yet. I see two divergent paths, that could meet, but first I have to try one or the other. I can see myself diving into peacework. I can see myself diving into theatre. I can see myself trying to combine the two - but not for awhile yet. What I am certain of is that I would have to/want to do considerably more work in each individual field before I combine them. It's necessary, I think. Because I still don't know what the hell I'm doing when I'm in either world (not a bad thing). And after all, I need to experience it to learn if it really is what I want, in either case.
Another really incredible thing about last weekend was that I got to spend so much time with passionate, intelligent, interesting people... that had nothing to do with theatre. It was a nice change from spending all my time with passionate, intelligent, interesting theatre types. I love the theatre types, don't get me wrong. But I felt I was able to tap into a different side of myself by virtue of being with these other people - a side that I really love, but who doesn't get to come out and play much these days. What can I call her... Good Student Isabel? That's not right... but she's the one who enjoys lectures and group projects and doing well in class and playing well with others. She has her space at LISPA, too, but in a very different way. Maybe Academic Isabel is a more appropriate name. Anyway. It was really amazing to meet people that I share a non-theatre passion with. Very inspiring, and fun. It's a bit of a double-edged sword though, I have to admit, because whenever I bring up theatre (as a tool for development or otherwise) in a non-theatre group, I feel the need to justify myself. People don't take it seriously, or even if they don't dismiss it, they don't quite get it. Similarly, as far as I can tell I'm the only one at LISPA who has a real drive towards international development work. It's a little lonely feeling like noone shares your dream in the same way. But I suppose it's to be expected - as it is, my dream is far from definitively formulated, and I figure the more I am able to articulate what I want, the more people I'll find who fit into it. Or something.
Another battle within the Theatre or Development war is this: if I'm going to be completely honest, I think the theatre I want to make doesn't take place in (enter your developing country of choice here). I want to go to (developing country of choice), and I want to make theatre with them there to the ends of education and communication and joy, but that wouldn't be my theatre: it would be theirs. That's the point. But I want my theatre as well. I want my theatre company that tours the world and does amazing work. It feels selfish, and it brings up that age-old fear that if I choose theatre over peacework then I am a selfish person. And I think this colours my desire to use theatre towards peacework ends: "See? It's worthwhile! It's not just me having fun onstage! It can heal the world!" And it gets tricky, because I think theatre can. And does.
So what's my problem?
That to me, in this moment, using theatre as a tool for peace in the development world would mean that I would be a facilitator of that theatre. And that is important, and that interests me, and I would love to do that at some point, at many points. But I am always passionate about being theatre, making theatre, getting up to my elbows and experiencing and performing theatre, not only facilitating it for others.
Maybe it's a matter of finding space for all of these things.
Maybe I have a lifetime to figure it out.
Maybe this is why I haven't blogged since the workshop - I knew I would get out of control and write an ill-structured essay on My Existential Crisis of Purpose. Yikes.
Anyway. Back to the mundane.
I was also in a cycling accident this weekend. Long story short, my foot kicked off my pedal at the most inopportune of moments, got caught in my front wheel, and I almost got hit by a car. But didn't. But it was scary, and I fucked up my knee, and I've been limping all week. It's much better now, though, and the doctor said I didn't do any permanent damage - no fluid collection in the joint, and my kneecap is where it's meant to be - just hella lot of bruising. Needless to say(?), I've been taking the tube all this week.
We've also started working with masks in Commedia, and I gotta say, it looks like a lot of fun (my injury has kept me from participating in most of the exercises this week). Lots of solo themes wherein several very extreme states are travelled through, often to hilarious effect. (well, when it's done right...) I mean, don't get me wrong... it also looks INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT. But also like it would be fun. Says the girl who never volunteers. Because of her knee.
As a result of the commedia and extreme states of desire and urgency, our creation theme for the next two weeks is Lovers in a Hotel - wherein none of the lovers is there with their spouse, but their spouse manages to be there as well, with their own squeeze-on-the-side. Very farcical, slap-sticky, fun. And my group just happens to be made entirely of women, so we're having fun with our lesbian love-fest. It's kind of a blast. And by "kind of," I mean "totally."
What else? I may have won a trip for two to Italy and a digital camera. Meaning that I actually have won them - I have the winning pieces, but as they were given to me by a friend who didn't want to pay the £20 to claim the prizes (before he knew what they were), I feel like I should share. I'm going to talk to him today and let him know what [we've] won, and see if he wants one of the other. I kinda hope he doesn't want the trip to Italy, though :)
And that's it for my week. But that's enough. More than enough, for now.
Last weekend was my Introduction to Working in Conflict course, and it was nothing short of inspiring. I've been interested in peacework since I read some UN volunteers' joint memoir in late summer of 2004, and in international development work for much longer, but it had always seemed like an unattainable goal, intimidating in its sprawl and importance. No longer! Not only do I feel that I have a much better idea of what peacework is and all the different fields and projects it can encompass, I feel that it's something I Could Do. I can do. There were lots of different areas that appealed to me, but some of the ones that have stayed in my mind were short term election observation (as a good foot-in-the-door way to start with peacework), listening projects (helping people to deal with trauma experienced through conflict by simply listening to their stories), and protective accompaniment. This last one in particular really set me on fire. One of our guest speakers was a woman with Peace Brigades International, which is a group that has a presence in Colombia, Mexico, Guatemala, Indonesia, and Nepal. In these countries, there are ordinary people who are doing incredible things for human rights; and as a result, their lives are in danger. Volunteers with PBI simply accompany these amazing individuals as they continue their human rights work, providing an international and conspicuous presence, and making them safer simply through their presence; possibly even saving their lives, however implicitly.
Can you imagine that? Can you imagine living in Indonesia, or Mexico, or Colombia for a year, observing ordinary people do extraordinary things in the interest of humanity, and simply by your presence helping them to continue that work? It gives me goosebumps. It seems like such an amazing opportunity, such important work.
I've signed up for another workshop, this one only day-long, on Civilian Protection. This will go into more detail with the work PBI does, as well as other organisations like them.
As wonderful as last weekend was, though, it has resulted in something of a split: last week I wrote about my Dream Life as an Artist, and last weekend I started to envision my Dream Life as a Peaceworker. They're not neccesarily different lives, but they're very different paths. Does that make sense? I feel that I'm beginning to understand my own potential, and that these things that I've dreamed about truly are possible... and yet. I see two divergent paths, that could meet, but first I have to try one or the other. I can see myself diving into peacework. I can see myself diving into theatre. I can see myself trying to combine the two - but not for awhile yet. What I am certain of is that I would have to/want to do considerably more work in each individual field before I combine them. It's necessary, I think. Because I still don't know what the hell I'm doing when I'm in either world (not a bad thing). And after all, I need to experience it to learn if it really is what I want, in either case.
Another really incredible thing about last weekend was that I got to spend so much time with passionate, intelligent, interesting people... that had nothing to do with theatre. It was a nice change from spending all my time with passionate, intelligent, interesting theatre types. I love the theatre types, don't get me wrong. But I felt I was able to tap into a different side of myself by virtue of being with these other people - a side that I really love, but who doesn't get to come out and play much these days. What can I call her... Good Student Isabel? That's not right... but she's the one who enjoys lectures and group projects and doing well in class and playing well with others. She has her space at LISPA, too, but in a very different way. Maybe Academic Isabel is a more appropriate name. Anyway. It was really amazing to meet people that I share a non-theatre passion with. Very inspiring, and fun. It's a bit of a double-edged sword though, I have to admit, because whenever I bring up theatre (as a tool for development or otherwise) in a non-theatre group, I feel the need to justify myself. People don't take it seriously, or even if they don't dismiss it, they don't quite get it. Similarly, as far as I can tell I'm the only one at LISPA who has a real drive towards international development work. It's a little lonely feeling like noone shares your dream in the same way. But I suppose it's to be expected - as it is, my dream is far from definitively formulated, and I figure the more I am able to articulate what I want, the more people I'll find who fit into it. Or something.
Another battle within the Theatre or Development war is this: if I'm going to be completely honest, I think the theatre I want to make doesn't take place in (enter your developing country of choice here). I want to go to (developing country of choice), and I want to make theatre with them there to the ends of education and communication and joy, but that wouldn't be my theatre: it would be theirs. That's the point. But I want my theatre as well. I want my theatre company that tours the world and does amazing work. It feels selfish, and it brings up that age-old fear that if I choose theatre over peacework then I am a selfish person. And I think this colours my desire to use theatre towards peacework ends: "See? It's worthwhile! It's not just me having fun onstage! It can heal the world!" And it gets tricky, because I think theatre can. And does.
So what's my problem?
That to me, in this moment, using theatre as a tool for peace in the development world would mean that I would be a facilitator of that theatre. And that is important, and that interests me, and I would love to do that at some point, at many points. But I am always passionate about being theatre, making theatre, getting up to my elbows and experiencing and performing theatre, not only facilitating it for others.
Maybe it's a matter of finding space for all of these things.
Maybe I have a lifetime to figure it out.
Maybe this is why I haven't blogged since the workshop - I knew I would get out of control and write an ill-structured essay on My Existential Crisis of Purpose. Yikes.
Anyway. Back to the mundane.
I was also in a cycling accident this weekend. Long story short, my foot kicked off my pedal at the most inopportune of moments, got caught in my front wheel, and I almost got hit by a car. But didn't. But it was scary, and I fucked up my knee, and I've been limping all week. It's much better now, though, and the doctor said I didn't do any permanent damage - no fluid collection in the joint, and my kneecap is where it's meant to be - just hella lot of bruising. Needless to say(?), I've been taking the tube all this week.
We've also started working with masks in Commedia, and I gotta say, it looks like a lot of fun (my injury has kept me from participating in most of the exercises this week). Lots of solo themes wherein several very extreme states are travelled through, often to hilarious effect. (well, when it's done right...) I mean, don't get me wrong... it also looks INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT. But also like it would be fun. Says the girl who never volunteers. Because of her knee.
As a result of the commedia and extreme states of desire and urgency, our creation theme for the next two weeks is Lovers in a Hotel - wherein none of the lovers is there with their spouse, but their spouse manages to be there as well, with their own squeeze-on-the-side. Very farcical, slap-sticky, fun. And my group just happens to be made entirely of women, so we're having fun with our lesbian love-fest. It's kind of a blast. And by "kind of," I mean "totally."
What else? I may have won a trip for two to Italy and a digital camera. Meaning that I actually have won them - I have the winning pieces, but as they were given to me by a friend who didn't want to pay the £20 to claim the prizes (before he knew what they were), I feel like I should share. I'm going to talk to him today and let him know what [we've] won, and see if he wants one of the other. I kinda hope he doesn't want the trip to Italy, though :)
And that's it for my week. But that's enough. More than enough, for now.
Friday 2 November 2007
Soooo tired
I'm exhausted. It's been a very busy, very draining week, and I feel... well, exhausted. And as excited as I am to be doing this peacework course tomorrow this weekend, I also wish I could have more time to rest.
We've been doing prep work for commedia this week. It's very fun, but immensely demanding, both physically and emotionally. Today Thomas took us through an exercise dubbed "Heaven or Hell" that required everyone to be onstage on their own for 45 seconds trying to convey that they'd just seen a miracle - an angel had appeared to them. It was actually immensely difficult. And today was a day that I would've been more than happy to simply observe, and of course it ended up being a day that we had huge personal challenging things asked of us. No hiding today. And of course I ended up in tears. Again. I'm getting so sick of being the girl that cries all the time.
Anyway. I'm well. I'm just really tired. I'm going to do my reading for my course, and then to bed. More news to follow...
We've been doing prep work for commedia this week. It's very fun, but immensely demanding, both physically and emotionally. Today Thomas took us through an exercise dubbed "Heaven or Hell" that required everyone to be onstage on their own for 45 seconds trying to convey that they'd just seen a miracle - an angel had appeared to them. It was actually immensely difficult. And today was a day that I would've been more than happy to simply observe, and of course it ended up being a day that we had huge personal challenging things asked of us. No hiding today. And of course I ended up in tears. Again. I'm getting so sick of being the girl that cries all the time.
Anyway. I'm well. I'm just really tired. I'm going to do my reading for my course, and then to bed. More news to follow...
Thursday 1 November 2007
My Dream Life as an Artist
Remember my homework assignment from last week? It's done. As done as it can be at the moment, anyway.
It's a great thing to do. Everyone should do it. In fact, I'll make you a deal - if you do yours, I'll show you mine. And for those of you who've forgotten, here's the assignment:
Write freely and openly about your dream life (as an artist or otherwise.) What do you want to do? What's important to you? Everything from grand aspirations to income to pets can and should be included.
Part two, which is optional - list five specific obstacles you see standing in your way.
I will send mine to whomever sends me theirs.
It's a great thing to do. Everyone should do it. In fact, I'll make you a deal - if you do yours, I'll show you mine. And for those of you who've forgotten, here's the assignment:
Write freely and openly about your dream life (as an artist or otherwise.) What do you want to do? What's important to you? Everything from grand aspirations to income to pets can and should be included.
Part two, which is optional - list five specific obstacles you see standing in your way.
I will send mine to whomever sends me theirs.
Tuesday 30 October 2007
Good news
I got into that Working in Conflict course this weekend! Huzzah! My confirmation email arrived just now with the full schedule and recommended reading, so it's official. And speaking of recommended reading, I can't tell you how excited I am that I have some. It's like college all over again! I'm totally buying a highlighter to commemorate the occasion.
And speaking of good news, I got my passport back from the Home Office, with a shiny big Leave to Remain sticker in it. I'm officially allowed to be here until 30th Sept 2008. Yay for another year in the UK!
School continues to be fun and good (though for some reason I wasn't able to kick my ass into going up in Amy's class yesterday.) Over the past week, we've been learning more approaches to "the language of gestures" - from French white pantomime, to "drawing" the space, to creating landscapes, set, images with the body. As usual, it's a lot of information thrown at us quickly with little time to absorb, which leaves one a bit breathless, but I have no complaints. Titanic isn't going as swimmingly as I'd hope - in fact, the process of the creation is following the true fate of the Titanic a bit closer that is comfortable - but you know what? Meh. They can't all be winners. And at least we're trying. Besides, we have another week yet.
I also have to say that I'm a huge fan of our schedule this year. It's a lot more condensed, meaning that we're usually out of class by 9pm on any given night, and since it's a mere 5min cycle ride home, it's not difficult to be in bed by a decent hour (oh God, listen to me. I'm officially my mother. [No offense, Mom. You know I love you and your motherly advice ;) ] ) Last night we five housemates all arrived home, and after I locked myself in the bathroom for a nice long shower I emerged to find the table set, the wine uncorked, the music playing on our shitty shitty cheap-ass skippy-ass CD player, and food ready to be eaten. We had a lovely communal meal, I did the dishes, and it was good. (And I tried starting on my Dream Life as an Artist assignment. Boy, is it scattered at the moment. I'll tackle it again tonight.)
Also, I'm getting over my cold, my bike is fixed once more (for free!), I'm crazy sore from Acrobatics yesterday, and I'm caught up on Heroes.
Good news all around.
And speaking of good news, I got my passport back from the Home Office, with a shiny big Leave to Remain sticker in it. I'm officially allowed to be here until 30th Sept 2008. Yay for another year in the UK!
School continues to be fun and good (though for some reason I wasn't able to kick my ass into going up in Amy's class yesterday.) Over the past week, we've been learning more approaches to "the language of gestures" - from French white pantomime, to "drawing" the space, to creating landscapes, set, images with the body. As usual, it's a lot of information thrown at us quickly with little time to absorb, which leaves one a bit breathless, but I have no complaints. Titanic isn't going as swimmingly as I'd hope - in fact, the process of the creation is following the true fate of the Titanic a bit closer that is comfortable - but you know what? Meh. They can't all be winners. And at least we're trying. Besides, we have another week yet.
I also have to say that I'm a huge fan of our schedule this year. It's a lot more condensed, meaning that we're usually out of class by 9pm on any given night, and since it's a mere 5min cycle ride home, it's not difficult to be in bed by a decent hour (oh God, listen to me. I'm officially my mother. [No offense, Mom. You know I love you and your motherly advice ;) ] ) Last night we five housemates all arrived home, and after I locked myself in the bathroom for a nice long shower I emerged to find the table set, the wine uncorked, the music playing on our shitty shitty cheap-ass skippy-ass CD player, and food ready to be eaten. We had a lovely communal meal, I did the dishes, and it was good. (And I tried starting on my Dream Life as an Artist assignment. Boy, is it scattered at the moment. I'll tackle it again tonight.)
Also, I'm getting over my cold, my bike is fixed once more (for free!), I'm crazy sore from Acrobatics yesterday, and I'm caught up on Heroes.
Good news all around.
Monday 29 October 2007
Homework
One of the classes we have this year is Company Development, which deals with the nitty-gritty of forming and running a theatre company, from health and safety to grant writing to finding rehearsal space. Our first homework assignment is due on Thursday:
- Write freely and openly about your dream life as an artist. Leave nothing out. Where do you want to be? What kind of work do you want to do? With whom do you want to work? Do you want to be married? Have kids? Pets? Your own yacht?
- A few days later, write the five biggest obstacles to the realisation of that dream.
I'll let you know what I come up with. At the moment, this assignment is what's churning up the spaces in my head and heart.
Sunday 28 October 2007
Sicky McSickerson
Lately, I've been sick. I left class early on Thursday night, and after a two hour nap, figured that if I was too sick for school, I was definitely too sick for work. So I called in sick. And then slept for a record FIFTEEN HOURS.
Guess I needed it.
Guess I needed it.
Thursday 25 October 2007
The Girl who Cries
I seem to have a knack for cementing my position as "the girl who cries." Last year I managed to turn on the waterworks (however unintentionally) several times in each of my classes, and now that we have a new voice teacher, of course I had to spend the majority of our first class with him in tears. Don't get me wrong - he's an amazing teacher, and it was a great class. But when you go into a class as intimate as voice already feeling a bit shaken and vulnerable, tears are sure to follow.
I felt shaken and vulnerable because a classmate, ostensibly in jest, called me a bitch right before class started.
He was joking, of course. But the context in which it was said made me terrified that I could come across that way. Especially since Uganda, and also by virtue(?) of being a space caretaker for the school, I tend to let the organisational side of me go a bit into overdrive, and I think it's possible that I come across a tad authoritarian sometimes. Instead of suggesting, I sometimes have the tendency to state. I often take more responsibility than is necessary onto my shoulders and stop trusting or expecting others to help, but then if the responsibility stresses me out, it comes back to the people around me. I think sometimes I get so stuck in my own head with figuring things out that, once I think I have, I spell them out for everyone else and completely unintentionally end up treating other people like they're stupid. Which is the last thing I mean to do, but that doesn't mean it couldn't come across that way. And sometimes I forget to listen.
I'm a good person. I know I am, and I know that I try to be. But that doesn't mean I couldn't be better.
I felt shaken and vulnerable because a classmate, ostensibly in jest, called me a bitch right before class started.
He was joking, of course. But the context in which it was said made me terrified that I could come across that way. Especially since Uganda, and also by virtue(?) of being a space caretaker for the school, I tend to let the organisational side of me go a bit into overdrive, and I think it's possible that I come across a tad authoritarian sometimes. Instead of suggesting, I sometimes have the tendency to state. I often take more responsibility than is necessary onto my shoulders and stop trusting or expecting others to help, but then if the responsibility stresses me out, it comes back to the people around me. I think sometimes I get so stuck in my own head with figuring things out that, once I think I have, I spell them out for everyone else and completely unintentionally end up treating other people like they're stupid. Which is the last thing I mean to do, but that doesn't mean it couldn't come across that way. And sometimes I forget to listen.
I'm a good person. I know I am, and I know that I try to be. But that doesn't mean I couldn't be better.
Wednesday 24 October 2007
ICEBEEEEEEERG! and other whimsies
It feels so good to be back at school. So, so good. As tired and rushed (and a teensy bit hungover) as I was coming into class yesterday, school made it all better. Our first class was with Ilan, which was hands-down the best possible way to start the year. There was a lot of lying down, and quieting down, and then four-person spooning cuddle sessions. So amazing. I love my school.
And then Thomas, which was great fun. We're investigating creating big spaces and epic, action-packed stories while utilising only a very small physical space. For example: for the next two weeks, our creation project is to take a pre-existing movie that occupies a grand scale, and recreate it with six or seven people on a SIX FOOT BY TWO FOOT PLATFORM. All six/seven performers must be on the platform at all times. So how do you occupy a literally cramped space but make it seem as though your someplace enormous, palatial, immensely spacious?
Yesterday we played with different ways of opening different spaces, and how to change between them. What can you do with the transposition of sound? What does the rhythm of each character or space imply? What happens when you have different rhythms on the platform at the same time? There was a lot of experimentation and trying and failing and a lot of laughter. It was such a warm, calm, adventurous space, that room.
I'm also really looking forward to creation this week, simply because my group has decided to do the film Titanic. Yes, the one with Leo and Kate and the terrible, terrible dialogue and the big ship and the bigger iceberg. On a 2x6 platform. Man, are we gonna have fun. (Editorial note: some of you may recall that I don't particularly like the film Titanic. But I'm loving that the ridiculousness of the movie is going to become, in many ways, even more ridiculous by virtue of the fact that we're squeezing it all into a few minutes on a tiny little platform. Awesome.)
I have to say that I'm really looking forward to this year. Monday was pretty overwhelming, what with all the new first years and the new information and the overwhelming-ness of it all, and after our meet-n-greet and info session that day I pretty much fled the scene to wander around quiet corners of central London with Simon for a couple of hours, but now that class has started, it feels like it's exactly what I should be doing. I'm also really pumped about the way they've altered the overall schedule for this year. Last year Commedia was in the second term, they didn't do Great Speeches, and they only had three weeks of clown. This year we do commedia starting next week, we get to do Great Speeches, and best of all, we get a full term of clown. A FULL TERM OF CLOWN. I was so thrilled and overwhelmed when they made that announcement. I seriously think my eyes were the size of small planets. Be still my heart. I'll try to not to get ahead of myself, though - we still have two terms before that!
So now it seems, my dear friends and readers, that we're entering into yet another blogging phase where all you'll hear about is school. The good news is that I get the sense that the work this year is far less esoteric, far more theatrical, which hopefully will mean it's more easily translated into normal-person-speak (as opposed to theatre-talk). Regardless, I'll try and be better about blogging this year than last, though we'll see what happens. The best laid plans...
A few more normal-life anecdotes, though, before I'm forever and gloriously lost in the black hole of the black box:
Last Saturday I ended up working for the nightclub after the comedy club until 2am and made bank. As a result, I'm trying to treat myself to a weekend-long course in Peacework/Working in Conflict. I've sent in my application, and hopefully I'll hear from them on Friday, Monday at the latest.
Also on Saturday, the nice man at the bike shop who keeps giving me discounts serviced my bike for free and has promised to replace my bottom bracket, also for free, on Saturday. I'm still not going out for a drink with him, though.
My debit card mysteriously stopped working yesterday, despite a healthy bank account balance. Apparently the bank decided to issue me a new and improved one weeks ago and didn't tell me about it. Now I have to make my way to Portobello Road on my OLD side of town to pick it up. Grumble, grumble.
When I woke up this morning, my lungs hurt. Out of nowhere, I seem to have developed a nasty cough. I'm tossing back orange juice and water in an attempt to counteract the plague.
Simon is well on his way to being an honourary LISPAn. He's met nearly all my classmates now, and some of them even ask after him these days. I'm spreading the gospel of the fantabulousness of Simon, and it is good.
Purple is the new purple.
That is all.
And then Thomas, which was great fun. We're investigating creating big spaces and epic, action-packed stories while utilising only a very small physical space. For example: for the next two weeks, our creation project is to take a pre-existing movie that occupies a grand scale, and recreate it with six or seven people on a SIX FOOT BY TWO FOOT PLATFORM. All six/seven performers must be on the platform at all times. So how do you occupy a literally cramped space but make it seem as though your someplace enormous, palatial, immensely spacious?
Yesterday we played with different ways of opening different spaces, and how to change between them. What can you do with the transposition of sound? What does the rhythm of each character or space imply? What happens when you have different rhythms on the platform at the same time? There was a lot of experimentation and trying and failing and a lot of laughter. It was such a warm, calm, adventurous space, that room.
I'm also really looking forward to creation this week, simply because my group has decided to do the film Titanic. Yes, the one with Leo and Kate and the terrible, terrible dialogue and the big ship and the bigger iceberg. On a 2x6 platform. Man, are we gonna have fun. (Editorial note: some of you may recall that I don't particularly like the film Titanic. But I'm loving that the ridiculousness of the movie is going to become, in many ways, even more ridiculous by virtue of the fact that we're squeezing it all into a few minutes on a tiny little platform. Awesome.)
I have to say that I'm really looking forward to this year. Monday was pretty overwhelming, what with all the new first years and the new information and the overwhelming-ness of it all, and after our meet-n-greet and info session that day I pretty much fled the scene to wander around quiet corners of central London with Simon for a couple of hours, but now that class has started, it feels like it's exactly what I should be doing. I'm also really pumped about the way they've altered the overall schedule for this year. Last year Commedia was in the second term, they didn't do Great Speeches, and they only had three weeks of clown. This year we do commedia starting next week, we get to do Great Speeches, and best of all, we get a full term of clown. A FULL TERM OF CLOWN. I was so thrilled and overwhelmed when they made that announcement. I seriously think my eyes were the size of small planets. Be still my heart. I'll try to not to get ahead of myself, though - we still have two terms before that!
So now it seems, my dear friends and readers, that we're entering into yet another blogging phase where all you'll hear about is school. The good news is that I get the sense that the work this year is far less esoteric, far more theatrical, which hopefully will mean it's more easily translated into normal-person-speak (as opposed to theatre-talk). Regardless, I'll try and be better about blogging this year than last, though we'll see what happens. The best laid plans...
A few more normal-life anecdotes, though, before I'm forever and gloriously lost in the black hole of the black box:
Last Saturday I ended up working for the nightclub after the comedy club until 2am and made bank. As a result, I'm trying to treat myself to a weekend-long course in Peacework/Working in Conflict. I've sent in my application, and hopefully I'll hear from them on Friday, Monday at the latest.
Also on Saturday, the nice man at the bike shop who keeps giving me discounts serviced my bike for free and has promised to replace my bottom bracket, also for free, on Saturday. I'm still not going out for a drink with him, though.
My debit card mysteriously stopped working yesterday, despite a healthy bank account balance. Apparently the bank decided to issue me a new and improved one weeks ago and didn't tell me about it. Now I have to make my way to Portobello Road on my OLD side of town to pick it up. Grumble, grumble.
When I woke up this morning, my lungs hurt. Out of nowhere, I seem to have developed a nasty cough. I'm tossing back orange juice and water in an attempt to counteract the plague.
Simon is well on his way to being an honourary LISPAn. He's met nearly all my classmates now, and some of them even ask after him these days. I'm spreading the gospel of the fantabulousness of Simon, and it is good.
Purple is the new purple.
That is all.
Tuesday 23 October 2007
The Schedule
First term:
Commedia
The Epic (melodrama)
Second term:
The tragic chorus
Grotesque
Great Speeches
Butoh
Third term:
Clown and the comic world
Fourth term:
Final projects
Commedia
The Epic (melodrama)
Second term:
The tragic chorus
Grotesque
Great Speeches
Butoh
Third term:
Clown and the comic world
Fourth term:
Final projects
Monday 22 October 2007
First day of School
It's like kindergarten all over again. I picked out a special outfit. I "treated myself to a coffee" (like I do every day) on the way into work. I packed makeup that I fully intend to apply before I get to school. I'm even (gasp!) wearing heels! (Actually, that's a lie. I have a pair of heels in my bag that I'll throw on my feet approximately one block from school.) I've got stomach flutters of nerves and excitement, exacerbated by caffeine on an empty stomach. I'm thrilled and a more than a little terrified.
Come to think of it, this is sounding less like the first day of kindergarten and more like a first date.
Which isn't necessarily a stretch, really. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I find the work that we do in this school requires as much of you as falling in love. It requires trust, and faith, and openess, and vulnerability, and the willingness to throw yourself off a cliff, pick your bruised and bloody self up off the floor, and then to do it again.
And again.
And again.
Oh man, I am so excited.
Come to think of it, this is sounding less like the first day of kindergarten and more like a first date.
Which isn't necessarily a stretch, really. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I find the work that we do in this school requires as much of you as falling in love. It requires trust, and faith, and openess, and vulnerability, and the willingness to throw yourself off a cliff, pick your bruised and bloody self up off the floor, and then to do it again.
And again.
And again.
Oh man, I am so excited.
Friday 19 October 2007
Things I may not have mentioned
I seem to have managed to get myself addicted to coffee again. Rarely does a day go by lately that I don't find some way to get my hot little hands around a hot little mocha. Mmmm, mocha.
Carrie and I are rockstars. We have three songs in our repetoire at the moment, all self-penned and all brilliant. Starting from the most recent, with a sampling of lyrics:
"Decision Time" (So this is it/Decision Time/Do I go home and drink some wine/Alooooooone)
"We Are The Warriors" (We are the warriors/we are the warriors/we are the warriors of moving other people's shit [bum bum bum])
"Bribery Ballad for my Brain", or "If You Don't Explode Today" (If you don't explode today/I'll give you a dollar/It's not all that much/Less than 50p/But I'll give you a dollar) (This song has several verses, wherein the brain is offered a dollar, a bike, the singer's heart, and then finally all three to compel it not to explode. This song isn't as catchy as the others, but it's definitely the best one.)
Speaking of rockstars, Carrie and I also decided that if I form a band, it sound be called Isabel and the Decibels. Isa and the Decibels? Isa and the Deci-Belles? Something like that.
I can't remember the last time I wore my contacts.
A fun new bored-at-work activity I've discovered lately is blog hunting. I go on google, enter a bunch of random words and "blog", and then hope that it comes up with something interesting. As a result, I've recently been up wading through the archives of a really fun, well-written blog by a new mother and British ex-pat living in California named Julia. Blogs are great. Go blogs! I do wish that more of my friends had them, though... (hint hint)
Today is my last eight hour day at this job! Hooraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
I saw the new space for the Advanced Course last night, and I love it. It's this huge blackbox with a huge foyer/student lounge area, and a kitchen, and extra rehearsal space. It's kinda gritty and all more or less two big rooms with not much separation, but I love it. And since they'll be knocking it down or renovating it in August, we can paint the student lounge crazy colours or do whatever we want to it! I'm so excited!!! It's going to be such a great artsy home for such great artsy people. I'm so pleased.
And the adjoining bar is nice, too.
I'm getting really excited for school to start on Monday. Maybe it was seeing the new space and talking to Kelley and Patrick more, but regardless, I'm pretty pumped. Really pumped. It's going to be so great to be back in the swing of things. Huzzah!
(Reading over this entry, I notice that it's episodic, random, and a bit unfocused with more than its share of exclamations and exclamation points. I also started out talking about my love of coffee. Coincidence?)
Carrie and I are rockstars. We have three songs in our repetoire at the moment, all self-penned and all brilliant. Starting from the most recent, with a sampling of lyrics:
"Decision Time" (So this is it/Decision Time/Do I go home and drink some wine/Alooooooone)
"We Are The Warriors" (We are the warriors/we are the warriors/we are the warriors of moving other people's shit [bum bum bum])
"Bribery Ballad for my Brain", or "If You Don't Explode Today" (If you don't explode today/I'll give you a dollar/It's not all that much/Less than 50p/But I'll give you a dollar) (This song has several verses, wherein the brain is offered a dollar, a bike, the singer's heart, and then finally all three to compel it not to explode. This song isn't as catchy as the others, but it's definitely the best one.)
Speaking of rockstars, Carrie and I also decided that if I form a band, it sound be called Isabel and the Decibels. Isa and the Decibels? Isa and the Deci-Belles? Something like that.
I can't remember the last time I wore my contacts.
A fun new bored-at-work activity I've discovered lately is blog hunting. I go on google, enter a bunch of random words and "blog", and then hope that it comes up with something interesting. As a result, I've recently been up wading through the archives of a really fun, well-written blog by a new mother and British ex-pat living in California named Julia. Blogs are great. Go blogs! I do wish that more of my friends had them, though... (hint hint)
Today is my last eight hour day at this job! Hooraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
I saw the new space for the Advanced Course last night, and I love it. It's this huge blackbox with a huge foyer/student lounge area, and a kitchen, and extra rehearsal space. It's kinda gritty and all more or less two big rooms with not much separation, but I love it. And since they'll be knocking it down or renovating it in August, we can paint the student lounge crazy colours or do whatever we want to it! I'm so excited!!! It's going to be such a great artsy home for such great artsy people. I'm so pleased.
And the adjoining bar is nice, too.
I'm getting really excited for school to start on Monday. Maybe it was seeing the new space and talking to Kelley and Patrick more, but regardless, I'm pretty pumped. Really pumped. It's going to be so great to be back in the swing of things. Huzzah!
(Reading over this entry, I notice that it's episodic, random, and a bit unfocused with more than its share of exclamations and exclamation points. I also started out talking about my love of coffee. Coincidence?)
Thursday 18 October 2007
Talk about myself? Really? Do I have to?
Well over a year ago, my friend Emily tagged me, and well over a month ago I figured out what that meant. Basically, I write six unusual things about myself, and then tag six people to do the same. Everybody ready? All buckled in? Then heeeeeeere we go!
1. I love olives. This in and of itself is not so unusual. What is unusual is that this love has manifested itself in a tradition wherein every Christmas morning I receive a can of black olives in my stocking. It's pretty much my favorite thing. I think there may have even been one year when "Santa" forgot and Dad ended up driving me all over town in hopes of finding a convenience store with canned black olives that was still open (don't worry, we found one.)
2. I name my cars/bikes/personally owned modes of transport. After Shakespearean heroines. My first car was Trudi (short for Gertrude). My second car was a guy when I bought her, so I named her Rosalind (Roz) for the cross-dressing heroine in As You Like It. My bike, as you may remember, is Bianca, and here's why: it can be shortened to "B", for Bike; she's white; and I got her used, so she's been ridden a couple of times. (The reason this is clever is because she's named after the Bianca in Othello who, as you may know, is a whore. Oh, the cleverness of me.)
3. There are certain things I can only do with the left side of my face (winking, sneering, squinching my mouth over to the side). This doesn't mean I don't try to do them with my right - it just means I end up looking reeeeeally silly. For serious. Ask Gemma.
4. I eat frozen peas as a snack.
5. When I was about six, my dad took me to the Yale Repertory to see their production of Much Ado About Nothing. Right about the time that Benedick was overhearing Claudio and Don Pedro with shaving cream all over his face, I decided I wanted to be an actor.
6. Top three dream jobs: actor, member of internationally touring socially progressive collaborative theatre ensemble, international diplomat/socialite. Not necessarily in that order.
And to do the same exercise, I hereby tag the following:
1. Lindsay W
2. Kevin Obsatz (whether you want to do this in written or video format I leave to you)
3. Katy Kessler
4. Matthew Walsh
5. Chris Kelly
6. Tucker Nelson
Ready? .... Seeeet .... GO!
1. I love olives. This in and of itself is not so unusual. What is unusual is that this love has manifested itself in a tradition wherein every Christmas morning I receive a can of black olives in my stocking. It's pretty much my favorite thing. I think there may have even been one year when "Santa" forgot and Dad ended up driving me all over town in hopes of finding a convenience store with canned black olives that was still open (don't worry, we found one.)
2. I name my cars/bikes/personally owned modes of transport. After Shakespearean heroines. My first car was Trudi (short for Gertrude). My second car was a guy when I bought her, so I named her Rosalind (Roz) for the cross-dressing heroine in As You Like It. My bike, as you may remember, is Bianca, and here's why: it can be shortened to "B", for Bike; she's white; and I got her used, so she's been ridden a couple of times. (The reason this is clever is because she's named after the Bianca in Othello who, as you may know, is a whore. Oh, the cleverness of me.)
3. There are certain things I can only do with the left side of my face (winking, sneering, squinching my mouth over to the side). This doesn't mean I don't try to do them with my right - it just means I end up looking reeeeeally silly. For serious. Ask Gemma.
4. I eat frozen peas as a snack.
5. When I was about six, my dad took me to the Yale Repertory to see their production of Much Ado About Nothing. Right about the time that Benedick was overhearing Claudio and Don Pedro with shaving cream all over his face, I decided I wanted to be an actor.
6. Top three dream jobs: actor, member of internationally touring socially progressive collaborative theatre ensemble, international diplomat/socialite. Not necessarily in that order.
And to do the same exercise, I hereby tag the following:
1. Lindsay W
2. Kevin Obsatz (whether you want to do this in written or video format I leave to you)
3. Katy Kessler
4. Matthew Walsh
5. Chris Kelly
6. Tucker Nelson
Ready? .... Seeeet .... GO!
Wednesday 17 October 2007
Grumble, grumble, yay!, meh?
Yesterday, as usual, I checked The Onion for any new, rib-tickling news. The headline for the day was "It Only Tuesday", which made me both grin and sigh. Indeed, this week has been a-draggin'. As a result of being more tired at the end of the weekend than when the weekend began, I've been making an effort to do pretty much nothing outside of work, eat, sleep, and watch Heroes (we have internet! huzzah!). Why does this make the time go so slowly? Why am I feeling so apathetic? Why, though I am finally marginally rested, does it still take considerable effort to peel myself out of bed and convince myself to cycle into work in the morning?
I'm guessing the answer to a lot of these questions lies in the fact that I'm getting really tired of my job. I've never loved my job, but I've never hated it either, and though "hate" is far too strong a word for the strong disgruntlement I'm feeling these days, my feelings definitely lie on the exasperated dislike end of the spectrum. The commute doesn't help. The fact that my workday lasts well over ten hours as a result of 2.5 hrs cycling time makes the days a little more draining, to be sure.
The good news is school is starting up again next week, which means I'll only be working 20hrs/wk here henceforward. The bad news is, I'm a teensy bit concerned that with the aforementioned 2.5hrs of cycling on a daily basis, plus work, plus school, I'm going to burn myself out in record time. Thing is, I can't afford to quit my job. Like, really can't afford. I owe LISPA £4,025 for this year's tuition, my monthly rent is £260 (which is cheap! but still), and London is damn expensive, so factor in at least another £200 a month for bills, food, transport, and incidentals - possibly more. With my £700-per-month-after-taxes paychecks, I'm hoping I can squeak by, but keep in mind I also need to quit my job by fourth term when we'll be in rehearsals 12hrs a day and I won't have time or energy for anything else. Bleagh. Whatever, it'll work out. I don't wanna think about it anymore.
Other things I don't want to think about: the fact that I still don't have my visa for next year. I sent in the application in late September, and last week got a letter from them saying they needed more documentation. Which was fine - I had all the papers they needed - BUT they had sent the letter to me on the 4th (my birthday, the day the Royal Mail oh so conveniently decided to go on strike for a week), and I didn't receive it til the 12th. A Friday. Which meant I didn't get it back in the mail to them til the 15th. 16 days before my current visa expires. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just letting it go out into the ether, as it is, after all, beyond my control at this point whether they approve my leave to remain at all/in time or not. But you can see how it makes me a little nervous. A lot nervous. If I were to be thinking about it. Which I'm not.
And since we're talking about frustrations anyway, how about another? I was biking home from work last night, when I heard funny creaking noises coming from my dear Bianca (told you I'd named her). Luckily I knew a cycle shop more or less on my way home, so I stopped by and dropped her off for a look-over. After coming back after half an hour or so, I was informed by the very kind gentleman mechanic that my bottom bracket was loose. (What is it about me and bikes with f-ed up bottom brackets?!) Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but it turns out that my bike is an old model whose bottom bracket requires loads of labour to tighten or replace, and they don't even have a replacement at that bike shop anyway. Labour to tighten he approximated at about £70-£80 - almost as much as I paid for the bike to start out with. Luckily, he said it's still safe and rideable for the time being - he's just not sure how much longer she'll last.
Now, as frustrating as this news was, it wasn't earth-shattering. I've only had this bike for a month, but I've ridden it nearly every day for that month, often for upwards of 20 miles, and it was used to begin with. My potential saving grace was the fact that when I bought Bianca, I was assured I could get a month's free servicing from the store I bought her from. When I got home, I checked the receipt: dated the 15th September. Damn.
So I'm opening the forum to you, dear readers. It looks like I'm going to have to get another bike, but here are the principal questions: new or used? and for how much? I think I can manage up to £100 - the bad news is that new bikes tend to start at £200. Do I go back to the same place? Buy one on the street for cheap, but which could potentially be a piece of shiny crap (and also, more than likely, stolen property?) Part of me is hoping that I can go back to Recycling (where I first got Bianca) and if they're not able to fix her for free or close to it, see if I can trade her in and pay £50 more or something for a much nicer bike. Because honestly, why didn't I see this coming? When you're biking well over 100miles a week, something's gonna give.
On a more pleasant note, the bike mechanic at Brick Lane Bikes was super nice and very helpful and said he'd be happy to answer any questions about bikes anytime. I'm thinking about asking him if I can be really annoying and look over his shoulder while he's fixing bikes so I can figure out how the hell they work and what to watch out for. How cool would it be to be a bike mechanic's apprentice? With all that free time I have, I mean.
Let's see, what else? Last week was actually really nice. Busy and somewhat exhausting, but nice. I managed to get together with some people very dear to my heart that I hadn't seen in awhile (namely Niamh on Wednesday and Simon on Thursday), and Friday night Carrie and I went to see Ratatouille!!!!! Which was amazing. I totally loved it. And I thought of Dad, because we usually see animated films together, and I saw it on his birthday.
Saturday morning I went to volunteer at a recruitment fair and worked at the SPW stand, talking about my experience in Uganda and sharing info. It reminded me how much I want to do something like that again. I visited some other booths as well, and got all wistful and excited about different possibilities. I might take some weekend courses in peace work. How cool would that be? Then went to meet up with Erin!!! who's back!!! Hooray!!! and had a lovely couple of hours with her before my bosses from the comedy club called and said they needed me early to set up both locations because someone had called in sick.
I then had an even worse night working than I did last week.
Luckily, it sounds like after this Saturday, they're not going to need me to work that location all my myself anymore. Thank God.
Sunday was great - a picnic out on the Hackney Marsh with friends both old and new from school, and then some long conversations with some very dear friends. The late bedtime was worth it. Oh, and I learned how to make hummous from scratch, which is always exciting.
And this week? As I mentioned, not much. It's so strange to think that next week I'll be back in class. I'm excited about it, but it doesn't seem real. Also strange is the fact that I'm really not sure what to expect; I get the sense that the work we do this year is completely different from the things we explored last time. I'm excited for the adventure, I guess, but mostly I just don't know what to expect.
I'm guessing the answer to a lot of these questions lies in the fact that I'm getting really tired of my job. I've never loved my job, but I've never hated it either, and though "hate" is far too strong a word for the strong disgruntlement I'm feeling these days, my feelings definitely lie on the exasperated dislike end of the spectrum. The commute doesn't help. The fact that my workday lasts well over ten hours as a result of 2.5 hrs cycling time makes the days a little more draining, to be sure.
The good news is school is starting up again next week, which means I'll only be working 20hrs/wk here henceforward. The bad news is, I'm a teensy bit concerned that with the aforementioned 2.5hrs of cycling on a daily basis, plus work, plus school, I'm going to burn myself out in record time. Thing is, I can't afford to quit my job. Like, really can't afford. I owe LISPA £4,025 for this year's tuition, my monthly rent is £260 (which is cheap! but still), and London is damn expensive, so factor in at least another £200 a month for bills, food, transport, and incidentals - possibly more. With my £700-per-month-after-taxes paychecks, I'm hoping I can squeak by, but keep in mind I also need to quit my job by fourth term when we'll be in rehearsals 12hrs a day and I won't have time or energy for anything else. Bleagh. Whatever, it'll work out. I don't wanna think about it anymore.
Other things I don't want to think about: the fact that I still don't have my visa for next year. I sent in the application in late September, and last week got a letter from them saying they needed more documentation. Which was fine - I had all the papers they needed - BUT they had sent the letter to me on the 4th (my birthday, the day the Royal Mail oh so conveniently decided to go on strike for a week), and I didn't receive it til the 12th. A Friday. Which meant I didn't get it back in the mail to them til the 15th. 16 days before my current visa expires. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just letting it go out into the ether, as it is, after all, beyond my control at this point whether they approve my leave to remain at all/in time or not. But you can see how it makes me a little nervous. A lot nervous. If I were to be thinking about it. Which I'm not.
And since we're talking about frustrations anyway, how about another? I was biking home from work last night, when I heard funny creaking noises coming from my dear Bianca (told you I'd named her). Luckily I knew a cycle shop more or less on my way home, so I stopped by and dropped her off for a look-over. After coming back after half an hour or so, I was informed by the very kind gentleman mechanic that my bottom bracket was loose. (What is it about me and bikes with f-ed up bottom brackets?!) Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but it turns out that my bike is an old model whose bottom bracket requires loads of labour to tighten or replace, and they don't even have a replacement at that bike shop anyway. Labour to tighten he approximated at about £70-£80 - almost as much as I paid for the bike to start out with. Luckily, he said it's still safe and rideable for the time being - he's just not sure how much longer she'll last.
Now, as frustrating as this news was, it wasn't earth-shattering. I've only had this bike for a month, but I've ridden it nearly every day for that month, often for upwards of 20 miles, and it was used to begin with. My potential saving grace was the fact that when I bought Bianca, I was assured I could get a month's free servicing from the store I bought her from. When I got home, I checked the receipt: dated the 15th September. Damn.
So I'm opening the forum to you, dear readers. It looks like I'm going to have to get another bike, but here are the principal questions: new or used? and for how much? I think I can manage up to £100 - the bad news is that new bikes tend to start at £200. Do I go back to the same place? Buy one on the street for cheap, but which could potentially be a piece of shiny crap (and also, more than likely, stolen property?) Part of me is hoping that I can go back to Recycling (where I first got Bianca) and if they're not able to fix her for free or close to it, see if I can trade her in and pay £50 more or something for a much nicer bike. Because honestly, why didn't I see this coming? When you're biking well over 100miles a week, something's gonna give.
On a more pleasant note, the bike mechanic at Brick Lane Bikes was super nice and very helpful and said he'd be happy to answer any questions about bikes anytime. I'm thinking about asking him if I can be really annoying and look over his shoulder while he's fixing bikes so I can figure out how the hell they work and what to watch out for. How cool would it be to be a bike mechanic's apprentice? With all that free time I have, I mean.
Let's see, what else? Last week was actually really nice. Busy and somewhat exhausting, but nice. I managed to get together with some people very dear to my heart that I hadn't seen in awhile (namely Niamh on Wednesday and Simon on Thursday), and Friday night Carrie and I went to see Ratatouille!!!!! Which was amazing. I totally loved it. And I thought of Dad, because we usually see animated films together, and I saw it on his birthday.
Saturday morning I went to volunteer at a recruitment fair and worked at the SPW stand, talking about my experience in Uganda and sharing info. It reminded me how much I want to do something like that again. I visited some other booths as well, and got all wistful and excited about different possibilities. I might take some weekend courses in peace work. How cool would that be? Then went to meet up with Erin!!! who's back!!! Hooray!!! and had a lovely couple of hours with her before my bosses from the comedy club called and said they needed me early to set up both locations because someone had called in sick.
I then had an even worse night working than I did last week.
Luckily, it sounds like after this Saturday, they're not going to need me to work that location all my myself anymore. Thank God.
Sunday was great - a picnic out on the Hackney Marsh with friends both old and new from school, and then some long conversations with some very dear friends. The late bedtime was worth it. Oh, and I learned how to make hummous from scratch, which is always exciting.
And this week? As I mentioned, not much. It's so strange to think that next week I'll be back in class. I'm excited about it, but it doesn't seem real. Also strange is the fact that I'm really not sure what to expect; I get the sense that the work we do this year is completely different from the things we explored last time. I'm excited for the adventure, I guess, but mostly I just don't know what to expect.
Monday 15 October 2007
Eastern Observations
Hackney is the greenest Borough in London, I've been told, and it seems every few days I stumble upon a new park or open space. Yesterday Rebecca, Jed, and Maria hosted a picnic on the Marsh right by their home; every day I cycle through three parks on my way to work, two of which are in Hackney; and I've recently found another small park within five minutes of my house. The leaves are beginning to turn, and the weather over the past few days has been nothing short of lovely.
One evening last week I was walking to Niamh's house in Stoke Newington, which is a neighborhood just west of mine. It was a Thursday, at about 7pm, and at a certain point I noticed there were lots of Middle Eastern men of all ages walking down the same street as me. As I progressed down the road their destination became more clear - there was a mosque located in the basement of one of the homes. As I passed it, I became aware that the street demographic changed almost immediately - all of a sudden instead of passing Muslim men, there were Hasidic Jewish men in droves: their synagogue was a mere stone's throw up the road.
For this and other reasons, London is incredible.
One evening last week I was walking to Niamh's house in Stoke Newington, which is a neighborhood just west of mine. It was a Thursday, at about 7pm, and at a certain point I noticed there were lots of Middle Eastern men of all ages walking down the same street as me. As I progressed down the road their destination became more clear - there was a mosque located in the basement of one of the homes. As I passed it, I became aware that the street demographic changed almost immediately - all of a sudden instead of passing Muslim men, there were Hasidic Jewish men in droves: their synagogue was a mere stone's throw up the road.
For this and other reasons, London is incredible.
Friday 12 October 2007
Because it's his birthday
Here's a toast to the best dad in the world. He's wise and wonderful and intelligent and kind, he makes me laugh, he's the best role model I could ask for, and he's my friend. I love him with all my heart.
Thursday 11 October 2007
High hopes!... come crashing down
My co-worker just told me that, as a student, I shouldn't be paying tax. At all.
If this is true, not only does the government owe me hundreds more pounds than they owed me before (yippee!), but it means my paychecks are going to get considerably larger.
I'm on my way to the tax office right now. Fingers xed!!!
*ONE HOUR LATER*
Damn, damn, damn. Not only do I have to keep paying tax, the tax rebate that was supposed to come through any day now hasn't even been processed yet! so it'll be a couple of months more, at least, until I get my windfall. Damn. Well, it was worth a shot, anyway.
In other news, I wore a skirt yesterday and today and showed off my toned, cycling legs. I am so hot it hurts. (Literally. My muscles are V sore.)
If this is true, not only does the government owe me hundreds more pounds than they owed me before (yippee!), but it means my paychecks are going to get considerably larger.
I'm on my way to the tax office right now. Fingers xed!!!
*ONE HOUR LATER*
Damn, damn, damn. Not only do I have to keep paying tax, the tax rebate that was supposed to come through any day now hasn't even been processed yet! so it'll be a couple of months more, at least, until I get my windfall. Damn. Well, it was worth a shot, anyway.
In other news, I wore a skirt yesterday and today and showed off my toned, cycling legs. I am so hot it hurts. (Literally. My muscles are V sore.)
Wednesday 10 October 2007
My Eventful Weekend
I know, I know, this post is a day late. Forgiveness? In my defense, on my way into work yesterday I got caught in the pouring rain, had to abandon my bike at Oxford Circus, and ended up taking the tube the rest of the way in. I was never quite able to shake the resulting gross, wet, tired feeling, and consequently quite felt up to writing. But now I'm back! And will try to do justice to the crazybusyfunexhausting that was my weekend.
There's nothing much to say about Friday night except that I was in bed by 10pm. The previous night (my birthday, if you'll recall) had seen a rather impromptu gathering of friends at a bar I'd chosen but never been to, and it was successful enough that I wasn't at home and in bed until 2 or 3, and was wrecked at work all day on Friday. (Most pubs and bars close at 11pm in London, so I'd thought I would've made it to bed at a decent hour, but I just happened to pick a little dive that stayed open til 3am on a Thurs. Go figure.) Thus, the early bedtime, and the sleeping for THIRTEEN HOURS. It was amazing. I love sleep.
Late Saturday morning when I finally got up, after a quick cuddle session with Baerbel (God, how I love living with people!), she and Karim and I all went to our adorable little corner coffee shop for cappuccinos and pastries and wi-fi. I read an article in the Guardian magazine about Texans and the war which made me sad, and we wandered around for a little while before going home. Karim and Carrie caught their plane to Portugal, and I drank a lot of tea and bummed around the house.
At one point, mid-roomcleaning, I realised I wasn't sure where my phone was. I called it on the house phone - and got the "switched off" message. My tummy sank. I never turn off my phone, and it wasn't close to being out of battery, which meant that someone else had it. Retracing my steps, I realised I had oh so cleverly taken it outside with me at one point when I'd been drinking tea on the stoop, and then even more cleverly gone back inside without it.
I'm an idiot.
An idiot without a phone.
But there was nothing to be done about it that afternoon, so I banged my head against a wall a few times and then skedaddled off to work. It was a loooong cycle ride of nearly 15 miles, and it was the location that I often have to run more or less single-handedly - I set up lights and sound, run lights and sound, make announcements, work the door, and organise the acts - so it was already looking like it was going to be a busy night for me. Usually I have one of the managers there to help out and give me the paperwork, etc, so I wasn't too worried... but noone had showed up by 7:45, and the doors open at 8. Finally the bar took a call for me - my boss's girlfriend had been trying to get ahold of me for hours to tell me to start early - the first act at my location was the second act at hers, and to make it to the latter gig on time he'd have to rush. Which was fine. No sweat.
Until 8:45 rolled around with a fullish house, a 8:55 scheduled start, and NONE of the comedians had showed. No MC, and none of the three acts.
This is when I start to panic just the tiniest bit.
Into this insanity, enter Darrin (who, as an interesting sidebar, is the spitting image of my ex. If I hadn't been so stressed and distracted I would've flirted my little tush off. Perverse? Yes. But leave me my little guilty pleasures). He informs me he's one of the acts for the night, which confounds me because he's not on my list of acts for the night. A call to Pete (my boss) clears up the confusion - Darrin had been cancelled but he'd never gotten the message. Good thing he hadn't, too, because by now, though the second act has shown up, noone knows where the MC is, and the first act has just walked in the door but he's too late to do his spot and I have to shove cab fare in his hand and hustle him out the door so he can make the OTHER gig. Long story short (too late), Darrin MCed, the second act went on first, the third act went on second, and there was no third act. And I survived to tell the tale. Barely. Whew!
But the night wasn't over yet, for as you may recall, I had cycled 15 miles to get to work, which meant I had the same trek home. Through central London, at midnight on a Saturday, which was teeming with drunk people. Teeming. So I'm biking along, albeit warily, and of course this guy decides to jaywalk in front of me. I see him coming, and I'm dingin' my little bell and slowing down, but of course he either willingly ignores me or is too drunk to care, so I end up clipping his heel. He's fine, I go down. But I'm back up again like a jack-in-the-box, full of righteous wrath. (I have to say that I think this is a benefit of living in a big city - you get much better at standing up for yourself in the face of rude behaviour. And granted, he served as an easy outlet for all the stress I'd experienced over the course of the evening, but I still say he deserved it.) Knee skinned, trousers torn, fingers snapping in a Z formation, I gave him what for. I think he was a little taken aback by the rage of this little white girl, and only halfheartedly engaged in verbal combat, managing to mumble that my lights should be more bright ("Yeah? Well, you should be more sober!"*) before running away. Grrr. Stupid drunken ass. Still muttering expletives under my breath, I fixed my chain which had come off in the scuffle and continued homeward.
But not for long. Two miles later, a flat. Fuck.
I locked up my bike and walked the rest of the way home. I don't know how far it was, but it was more than three miles. Bleagh. It was nearly 4am by the time I finally made it to bed.
Sunday was much nicer. Despite the fact I got very little sleep and a later start to the day than planned, it was a lovely lovely day. I met up with Cecile for breakfast in Hackney, which was just what the doctor ordered in so many ways. Cecile is in the morning group, and as a result we'd never really gotten the chance to hang out before - she was one of those people that I always knew I wanted to get to know, but never had the opportunity. Well, the opportunity presented itself on Sunday at The Bohemian, and over a lengthy breakfast we talked, and laughed, and shared our experiences, both joyful and not, from the past year. She then agreed to run errands with me, which brought us to a bike shop by Brick Lane, and on a very lengthy meander through East London to Canary Wharf, where I got a new phone! For £20! And it's so much fancier than my old phone! She helped me choose a ringtone (the one I've settled on, however temporarily, is AMAZING. It's called "Amazement" and is basically the sound of a group of people going, "ooooOOOOOOoooo! .... ooooOOOOOOoooo!" over and over again. It cracks me up.), tried to teach me how to speak with a French accent, and we sang musicals and Disney tunes together as we walked down the street. A particular highlight was singing "Part of that World" from The Little Mermaid, I in English, she in French. She's a keeper, that Cecile. It was a beautiful day, and a very real connection that I'm so happy to have made.
*Not actually my retort. My actual retort was not nearly as cutting or clever. I think it was something like "Well, at least I have lights!" Ooh, zing.
There's nothing much to say about Friday night except that I was in bed by 10pm. The previous night (my birthday, if you'll recall) had seen a rather impromptu gathering of friends at a bar I'd chosen but never been to, and it was successful enough that I wasn't at home and in bed until 2 or 3, and was wrecked at work all day on Friday. (Most pubs and bars close at 11pm in London, so I'd thought I would've made it to bed at a decent hour, but I just happened to pick a little dive that stayed open til 3am on a Thurs. Go figure.) Thus, the early bedtime, and the sleeping for THIRTEEN HOURS. It was amazing. I love sleep.
Late Saturday morning when I finally got up, after a quick cuddle session with Baerbel (God, how I love living with people!), she and Karim and I all went to our adorable little corner coffee shop for cappuccinos and pastries and wi-fi. I read an article in the Guardian magazine about Texans and the war which made me sad, and we wandered around for a little while before going home. Karim and Carrie caught their plane to Portugal, and I drank a lot of tea and bummed around the house.
At one point, mid-roomcleaning, I realised I wasn't sure where my phone was. I called it on the house phone - and got the "switched off" message. My tummy sank. I never turn off my phone, and it wasn't close to being out of battery, which meant that someone else had it. Retracing my steps, I realised I had oh so cleverly taken it outside with me at one point when I'd been drinking tea on the stoop, and then even more cleverly gone back inside without it.
I'm an idiot.
An idiot without a phone.
But there was nothing to be done about it that afternoon, so I banged my head against a wall a few times and then skedaddled off to work. It was a loooong cycle ride of nearly 15 miles, and it was the location that I often have to run more or less single-handedly - I set up lights and sound, run lights and sound, make announcements, work the door, and organise the acts - so it was already looking like it was going to be a busy night for me. Usually I have one of the managers there to help out and give me the paperwork, etc, so I wasn't too worried... but noone had showed up by 7:45, and the doors open at 8. Finally the bar took a call for me - my boss's girlfriend had been trying to get ahold of me for hours to tell me to start early - the first act at my location was the second act at hers, and to make it to the latter gig on time he'd have to rush. Which was fine. No sweat.
Until 8:45 rolled around with a fullish house, a 8:55 scheduled start, and NONE of the comedians had showed. No MC, and none of the three acts.
This is when I start to panic just the tiniest bit.
Into this insanity, enter Darrin (who, as an interesting sidebar, is the spitting image of my ex. If I hadn't been so stressed and distracted I would've flirted my little tush off. Perverse? Yes. But leave me my little guilty pleasures). He informs me he's one of the acts for the night, which confounds me because he's not on my list of acts for the night. A call to Pete (my boss) clears up the confusion - Darrin had been cancelled but he'd never gotten the message. Good thing he hadn't, too, because by now, though the second act has shown up, noone knows where the MC is, and the first act has just walked in the door but he's too late to do his spot and I have to shove cab fare in his hand and hustle him out the door so he can make the OTHER gig. Long story short (too late), Darrin MCed, the second act went on first, the third act went on second, and there was no third act. And I survived to tell the tale. Barely. Whew!
But the night wasn't over yet, for as you may recall, I had cycled 15 miles to get to work, which meant I had the same trek home. Through central London, at midnight on a Saturday, which was teeming with drunk people. Teeming. So I'm biking along, albeit warily, and of course this guy decides to jaywalk in front of me. I see him coming, and I'm dingin' my little bell and slowing down, but of course he either willingly ignores me or is too drunk to care, so I end up clipping his heel. He's fine, I go down. But I'm back up again like a jack-in-the-box, full of righteous wrath. (I have to say that I think this is a benefit of living in a big city - you get much better at standing up for yourself in the face of rude behaviour. And granted, he served as an easy outlet for all the stress I'd experienced over the course of the evening, but I still say he deserved it.) Knee skinned, trousers torn, fingers snapping in a Z formation, I gave him what for. I think he was a little taken aback by the rage of this little white girl, and only halfheartedly engaged in verbal combat, managing to mumble that my lights should be more bright ("Yeah? Well, you should be more sober!"*) before running away. Grrr. Stupid drunken ass. Still muttering expletives under my breath, I fixed my chain which had come off in the scuffle and continued homeward.
But not for long. Two miles later, a flat. Fuck.
I locked up my bike and walked the rest of the way home. I don't know how far it was, but it was more than three miles. Bleagh. It was nearly 4am by the time I finally made it to bed.
Sunday was much nicer. Despite the fact I got very little sleep and a later start to the day than planned, it was a lovely lovely day. I met up with Cecile for breakfast in Hackney, which was just what the doctor ordered in so many ways. Cecile is in the morning group, and as a result we'd never really gotten the chance to hang out before - she was one of those people that I always knew I wanted to get to know, but never had the opportunity. Well, the opportunity presented itself on Sunday at The Bohemian, and over a lengthy breakfast we talked, and laughed, and shared our experiences, both joyful and not, from the past year. She then agreed to run errands with me, which brought us to a bike shop by Brick Lane, and on a very lengthy meander through East London to Canary Wharf, where I got a new phone! For £20! And it's so much fancier than my old phone! She helped me choose a ringtone (the one I've settled on, however temporarily, is AMAZING. It's called "Amazement" and is basically the sound of a group of people going, "ooooOOOOOOoooo! .... ooooOOOOOOoooo!" over and over again. It cracks me up.), tried to teach me how to speak with a French accent, and we sang musicals and Disney tunes together as we walked down the street. A particular highlight was singing "Part of that World" from The Little Mermaid, I in English, she in French. She's a keeper, that Cecile. It was a beautiful day, and a very real connection that I'm so happy to have made.
By the time I got home at six I was exhausted. Though I'd had plans to attend a fundraiser-cabaret at Madame JoJo's with Baerbel, I couldn't bring myself to leave the house, so I curled up with some microwave popcorn, cheap phone calls to the States, and the 1971 Get Carter, starring Michael Caine. Comfy, content, and all alone.
Or so I thought.
Turns out we have a mouse. He's adorable, but I have reservations. One mouse is cute. Many mice? Not so much. So I left a note for Karim asking him to talk to the estate agent about it (as well as further insulating the front doors - there's definitely a mouse-sized gap under them that is doing nothing to deter an all-out invasion) and went to bed.
And that was my weekend! Worth the wait? I hope so.
*Not actually my retort. My actual retort was not nearly as cutting or clever. I think it was something like "Well, at least I have lights!" Ooh, zing.
Monday 8 October 2007
Tune in tomorrow for...
I had a very eventful weekend.
As a result, I don't have the energy to write about it, really.
But tomorrow, you can look forward to me regaling you with tales of assertiveness in the face of drunken behaviour, comedy nights that crash and burn, how to lose your phone, where to have breakfast in Hackney, newfound friends and how they make my heart warm, skinned knees, and the joy of choosing a new ringtone. Oh, and mice.
Don't touch that dial.
As a result, I don't have the energy to write about it, really.
But tomorrow, you can look forward to me regaling you with tales of assertiveness in the face of drunken behaviour, comedy nights that crash and burn, how to lose your phone, where to have breakfast in Hackney, newfound friends and how they make my heart warm, skinned knees, and the joy of choosing a new ringtone. Oh, and mice.
Don't touch that dial.
Friday 5 October 2007
Now We are (Twenty) Six
There's something bittersweet about birthdays, especially the ones you spend away from home. I had my share of joy yesterday, peppered with moments of missing those close friends who are so far, and I've come to realise/remember that I am so very blessed. I have incredible friends who are beautiful and funny and intelligent and talented and true and who continue to show me no end of kindness. I have a family that is my roots and my strength, whom I love with all my heart and whom I would be lost without. I have pieces of homes and wholeness all over the world.
I am humbled in the face of such fortune, such joy.
Thank you to all of you who make my life such a joyous journey. Thank you for making me feel so loved, and so deserving. Having people like you around me is the best birthday present I could ever wish for, and having you in my life I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
I am humbled in the face of such fortune, such joy.
Thank you to all of you who make my life such a joyous journey. Thank you for making me feel so loved, and so deserving. Having people like you around me is the best birthday present I could ever wish for, and having you in my life I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Wednesday 3 October 2007
Why I'm Sleepy Today
When you come home at 10pm after wrangling with your crazy ex-landlady, and your kitchen holds the very pleasant surprise of guests in the form of Alexander and Jillian, it would be downright rude not to stay up past your bedtime with them and polish off two bottles of wine.
At least that's what I think.
At least that's what I think.
Tuesday 2 October 2007
Ode to Crazy Landladies
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Why are you nuts!? You live in Crazytown, population YOU! YOUR CRAZY IS INFECTIOUS AND YOU MAKE ME INSAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
*pant pant pant*
I didn't believe the stories, and now I'm paying the price. I have you to thank, Mrs D, for my torn hair, my beaten breast, my rent garments. I am counting down the days until the new tenants have arrived, my deposit is safely returned to my pocket, and I can wash my hands of you and your crazy, crazy ways, you crazy crazy lady.
*pant pant pant*
I didn't believe the stories, and now I'm paying the price. I have you to thank, Mrs D, for my torn hair, my beaten breast, my rent garments. I am counting down the days until the new tenants have arrived, my deposit is safely returned to my pocket, and I can wash my hands of you and your crazy, crazy ways, you crazy crazy lady.
Monday 1 October 2007
Monday, Monday
This weekend marked the exodus east, which ended up being a lot easier and more enjoyable than expected. The apartment that I so reviled on first viewing is much more pleasant when filled with people I love and who make me dinner. It will never be that house we lost in Leyton, but it'll do. I'm still trying to figure out how to make my textured-white-wallpaper-walls pretty, though. I'm thinking of investing in some blix (thanks to Katy, for showing me the way, however unintentionally). If anyone else has any ideas, send them my way. Otherwise there's always the old standby of postcards and photos and BluTak.
One of the great things about moving east is that we're now closer to most of our friends who had already made the leap, as well as being closer to the city in general. On Sunday, Karim, Baerbel, and I went down to Brick Lane market, which was a lovely cycle ride of about 15min or so. The weather was perfect for it, brisk and sunny, and on the way back Karim and I went through the Columbian Flower Market, which was vibrant as only a flower market can be. The evening found us in Stoke Newington hanging out in Ryan's little studio apartment with Seiriol, and then we walked to a park and had some beers on the lawn as the sun went down. A very satisfactory day.
Today I'm tired for no particular reason. Luckily it's been slow at work, and most of my time has been spent making a colour-coordinated chart showing all the people that will be moving into and out of the old house over the course of the next three weeks. It never ceases to astound me how well I organise others when I'm admittedly so poor at organising myself.
One of the great things about moving east is that we're now closer to most of our friends who had already made the leap, as well as being closer to the city in general. On Sunday, Karim, Baerbel, and I went down to Brick Lane market, which was a lovely cycle ride of about 15min or so. The weather was perfect for it, brisk and sunny, and on the way back Karim and I went through the Columbian Flower Market, which was vibrant as only a flower market can be. The evening found us in Stoke Newington hanging out in Ryan's little studio apartment with Seiriol, and then we walked to a park and had some beers on the lawn as the sun went down. A very satisfactory day.
Today I'm tired for no particular reason. Luckily it's been slow at work, and most of my time has been spent making a colour-coordinated chart showing all the people that will be moving into and out of the old house over the course of the next three weeks. It never ceases to astound me how well I organise others when I'm admittedly so poor at organising myself.
Friday 28 September 2007
Moving house, finding Home
I can't believe how quickly time moves. Has anyone else noticed this?
I've been meaning to write for the past week, but it's difficult sometimes to kick my own butt into writing. It's pretty ironic (well, less ironic than hypocritical), considering how uppity I get when my friends haven't blogged in a WHOLE THREE DAYS or something, but that's neither here nor there.
Let's start with upcoming events and then work backwards: tomorrow we move into our new house! Which means that tonight and tomorrow morning will be a flurry of cleaning and packing, and the next week will be a mess of settling in and buying cutlery, pots, pans, and toilet paper. It's not at all real to me. In no way have I integrated the fact that at this time tomorrow I'll be moved into a new room all the way across the city. Similarly, I've only slightly taken into consideration that the weather is getting colder and wetter, and starting on Monday I'm going to have a 10mile cycling commute into work. Having only just gotten over a cold, you can see why this might make me a bit wary... if I allowed myself to think about it, that is. But at the moment, it seems, I'm content to ignore the upcoming insanity and carry on as though nothing is changing.
In my defense, I think I've earned my lassez-faire attitude towards our new home. This is because, over the past five days, I've put an inordinate amount of stress and energy into our soon-to-be-old home. It's a long story, but the short version is that the guy who was in charge of finding new tenants for the house didn't find ones for immediately after the current people (myself included) would be leaving, and when the landlady returned from holiday and found out, she freaked. As a result, there's been a lot scrambling to cover the holes, financial and physical, left behind, and most of the scrambling has been done by me (though Pablo has been very helpful.) It's actually not that bad - on closer examination it turned out there were only one or two rooms/weeks of rent that were unaccounted for, and so all is not lost. There were just a couple of hours there where I allowed myself to shake my fist at the heavens and be a drama queen. (And to secretly think "I told you so," because I totally saw this coming. But anyway.)
Regardless, most of the house drama will be behind me within the next few days (knock on wood), simply because I won't be living there any more. I will miss the house, though. Ana Mirtha, Javi, and Baerbel have been staying with us for the past week since Natali and Agnese have been in Italy and Jed and Rebecca have moved east, and it's been particularly cozy of late. Last night was Ana Mirtha's birthday, which called for cupcakes, and every other night this week has followed the pattern of dinner, movie, bed. I hope this next house will feel as much like home.
Speaking of the shifting of homes, I visited Dublin last weekend. It was... I don't know. It was a weird weekend. I mean, as always it was great to arrive in a familiar city and see lovely familiar faces in the form of Will and Simon and Cian and Conor and Kate and Nika, but I could've timed it better. I mean, the whole point of flying out was to see Will's show, and with working during the week the only time I could go was Saturday, but Saturday was their closing night and the final weekend of the Dublin Fringe, which essentially meant that everyone (understandably) wanted to go out and party and talk about the Fringe and the Dublin theatre scene and a bunch of actors I don't know and shows I hadn't seen. Which is completely understandable. And I should've seen it coming. But I didn't, and as a result I felt a little left out. Not willfully excluded, just sad. It drove home (no pun indended) the point that Dublin isn't my home anymore. Add onto this state of affairs a general lack of sleep, and you get an emotional Isabel valiantly fighting off tears in a pub as she realises that she doesn't feel like she belongs anywhere at the moment.
And it's true, I think, that there's nowhere I particularly belong at the moment. I mean yes, the sentiment is a touch melodramatic (as am I, let's face it), but hear me out. I think this explains a lot - from not being particularly homesick for Minneapolis as such to not feeling completely At Home in London - there's nowhere in the world that I feel that I Must Be at the moment, where I Belong. And there's immense freedom in that, but there's also a fair share of sorrow. I was certainly feeling the sorrowful part of it this weekend, when I very much felt on-the-outside-looking-in for most of it. But Will gave me some excellent advice when I shared my sense of loss with him, which I'm trying to implement these days and I think will help me through the year: that it's ok to be sad, but it's important to share it. Not to swallow it if it's in your throat, not to smile if the smile's not truthful. It's simple advice, but true, and a truth I need to be reminded of. (In fact, I've been reminded of it before - by Gemma, when I was in Uganda. My dear friends do know me well.) This reminder to be true to myself ties in with all the self-discovery and growing up that keeps piling on this year - that learning to believe that I am enough, that learning of confidence that builds others up with me and doesn't necessitate a hierarchy, that being ok with how I am when I am whatever I am. I get the sense it's a life-long lesson, and I'm hoping I'm up for the climb.
I also realised this week as I was paging through some old blog entries that I never wrote about the individual performances we did at the end of the year. Basically, we learned 20 movements over the course of the year (some straight-up mime, some gymnastic, some simpler and more esoteric) and for our final evaluation each person had to create their own choreography consisting only of these 20 movements (and each one only once) and then perform it, solo, in front of the faculty and their classmates. The reason I bring it up now, is because I think my presentation was one time that I was able to drop all the excess baggage, all the commentary and the flourish, and just be myself, and the movement, and the calmness onstage. I got the best feedback I've ever gotten, and the best feedback I heard, and it was wonderful because I was finally able to show something I always knew was there.
So maybe that's the moral of the story. That it's there, whatever "it" is - a home within myself as well as a Home out there in the world. It just takes a little digging, a little searching, a little hope, a little faith. And at the end of the day, chances are that it will have been right here, in my heart, in my hands, all along.
I've been meaning to write for the past week, but it's difficult sometimes to kick my own butt into writing. It's pretty ironic (well, less ironic than hypocritical), considering how uppity I get when my friends haven't blogged in a WHOLE THREE DAYS or something, but that's neither here nor there.
Let's start with upcoming events and then work backwards: tomorrow we move into our new house! Which means that tonight and tomorrow morning will be a flurry of cleaning and packing, and the next week will be a mess of settling in and buying cutlery, pots, pans, and toilet paper. It's not at all real to me. In no way have I integrated the fact that at this time tomorrow I'll be moved into a new room all the way across the city. Similarly, I've only slightly taken into consideration that the weather is getting colder and wetter, and starting on Monday I'm going to have a 10mile cycling commute into work. Having only just gotten over a cold, you can see why this might make me a bit wary... if I allowed myself to think about it, that is. But at the moment, it seems, I'm content to ignore the upcoming insanity and carry on as though nothing is changing.
In my defense, I think I've earned my lassez-faire attitude towards our new home. This is because, over the past five days, I've put an inordinate amount of stress and energy into our soon-to-be-old home. It's a long story, but the short version is that the guy who was in charge of finding new tenants for the house didn't find ones for immediately after the current people (myself included) would be leaving, and when the landlady returned from holiday and found out, she freaked. As a result, there's been a lot scrambling to cover the holes, financial and physical, left behind, and most of the scrambling has been done by me (though Pablo has been very helpful.) It's actually not that bad - on closer examination it turned out there were only one or two rooms/weeks of rent that were unaccounted for, and so all is not lost. There were just a couple of hours there where I allowed myself to shake my fist at the heavens and be a drama queen. (And to secretly think "I told you so," because I totally saw this coming. But anyway.)
Regardless, most of the house drama will be behind me within the next few days (knock on wood), simply because I won't be living there any more. I will miss the house, though. Ana Mirtha, Javi, and Baerbel have been staying with us for the past week since Natali and Agnese have been in Italy and Jed and Rebecca have moved east, and it's been particularly cozy of late. Last night was Ana Mirtha's birthday, which called for cupcakes, and every other night this week has followed the pattern of dinner, movie, bed. I hope this next house will feel as much like home.
Speaking of the shifting of homes, I visited Dublin last weekend. It was... I don't know. It was a weird weekend. I mean, as always it was great to arrive in a familiar city and see lovely familiar faces in the form of Will and Simon and Cian and Conor and Kate and Nika, but I could've timed it better. I mean, the whole point of flying out was to see Will's show, and with working during the week the only time I could go was Saturday, but Saturday was their closing night and the final weekend of the Dublin Fringe, which essentially meant that everyone (understandably) wanted to go out and party and talk about the Fringe and the Dublin theatre scene and a bunch of actors I don't know and shows I hadn't seen. Which is completely understandable. And I should've seen it coming. But I didn't, and as a result I felt a little left out. Not willfully excluded, just sad. It drove home (no pun indended) the point that Dublin isn't my home anymore. Add onto this state of affairs a general lack of sleep, and you get an emotional Isabel valiantly fighting off tears in a pub as she realises that she doesn't feel like she belongs anywhere at the moment.
And it's true, I think, that there's nowhere I particularly belong at the moment. I mean yes, the sentiment is a touch melodramatic (as am I, let's face it), but hear me out. I think this explains a lot - from not being particularly homesick for Minneapolis as such to not feeling completely At Home in London - there's nowhere in the world that I feel that I Must Be at the moment, where I Belong. And there's immense freedom in that, but there's also a fair share of sorrow. I was certainly feeling the sorrowful part of it this weekend, when I very much felt on-the-outside-looking-in for most of it. But Will gave me some excellent advice when I shared my sense of loss with him, which I'm trying to implement these days and I think will help me through the year: that it's ok to be sad, but it's important to share it. Not to swallow it if it's in your throat, not to smile if the smile's not truthful. It's simple advice, but true, and a truth I need to be reminded of. (In fact, I've been reminded of it before - by Gemma, when I was in Uganda. My dear friends do know me well.) This reminder to be true to myself ties in with all the self-discovery and growing up that keeps piling on this year - that learning to believe that I am enough, that learning of confidence that builds others up with me and doesn't necessitate a hierarchy, that being ok with how I am when I am whatever I am. I get the sense it's a life-long lesson, and I'm hoping I'm up for the climb.
I also realised this week as I was paging through some old blog entries that I never wrote about the individual performances we did at the end of the year. Basically, we learned 20 movements over the course of the year (some straight-up mime, some gymnastic, some simpler and more esoteric) and for our final evaluation each person had to create their own choreography consisting only of these 20 movements (and each one only once) and then perform it, solo, in front of the faculty and their classmates. The reason I bring it up now, is because I think my presentation was one time that I was able to drop all the excess baggage, all the commentary and the flourish, and just be myself, and the movement, and the calmness onstage. I got the best feedback I've ever gotten, and the best feedback I heard, and it was wonderful because I was finally able to show something I always knew was there.
So maybe that's the moral of the story. That it's there, whatever "it" is - a home within myself as well as a Home out there in the world. It just takes a little digging, a little searching, a little hope, a little faith. And at the end of the day, chances are that it will have been right here, in my heart, in my hands, all along.
Monday 24 September 2007
This post is for Janna...
... because sometimes she's poor, and sometimes she's forced to do algebra, and sometimes her uterus decides to make life difficult, and sometimes life just ain't easy and she feels frustrated and weepy and sobby...
but she's always brave, and strong, and kind, and generous, and wacky, and fun, and one of the best friends a girl could have, and I love her very much.
but she's always brave, and strong, and kind, and generous, and wacky, and fun, and one of the best friends a girl could have, and I love her very much.
Friday 21 September 2007
Crazy kids with their energy!
I've decided I'm not necessarily cut out for working a nine-to-five. Don't get me wrong - my job is fine. It pays the bills. But it doesn't particularly interest me, and it's not something I particularly enjoy. Even more importantly, I think it's making me older than I am. I mentioned this recently in an email to Anisa - it's like I get home, and I have no energy to be fun. My housemates are being raucous and playful and instead of having fun with them, all I want is to curl up with a glass of wine and about three episodes of Heroes. How lame is that? (Not the Heroes part - Heroes can do no wrong. I mean the no energy part). You'd think that someone who complains as much as I do about not having many close friends would be able to make an effort to rectify the situation by hanging out with folks, but apparently I use work as an excuse to be anti-social. My sense of play is hiding and I have no energy to go seek. Lame, lame, lame.
The good thing about being the only one in the house who's a nine-to-fiver is that I end up with about five housewives as a default. Several times in the past week I've come home to a chipper Karim, Carrie, and company saying, "We're making dinner!", and then regaling me with the menu of a meal I'll shortly be devouring. This (real) sceneario plays much more nicely into the adult fantasia. I don't like the "I'm tired and no fun" parts, but I do like having dinner made for me, yes I do.
The funny thing about this whole "ew, I feel so old and grey and stuffy and boring, what a gross life" crisis that I've been going through this past week is that it only takes one night out for me to realise that my life is still in my control, as helpless as I sometimes behave (and I think we can all agree I've been doing more than my share of whinging this summer). Last night I biked straight from work to the Barbican, where I met up with Theo and we grabbed dinner and then saw the Complicite show. The show was a little disappointing, but I'm still glad I saw it, and it was nice to bike home in the cool night air to round out my 15 mile day. The whole out-and-about thing snapped me right out of my funk, and the biking gave me plenty of energy to stay up chatting and eating rose, mango, and cardamom-with-pistachio-and-almond ice creams with Rebecca, Jed, Natali, and Agnese once I got home.
Speaking of biking, I have another bike! This is the second one I've gotten from the used bike store, and I think this one may be the keeper. It's not a racer, but it's lighter and faster than the other one, and it's been working out great for the past week. If yesterday's day of biking was any indication, girl's a little trouper. Yes, she's a girl. I've come up with a name, too, but I'm not going to share it until it's official.
I know I've mentioned this before, but I'm gonna go ahead and say it again - biking in London is awesome. I was reminded of this yesterday when I headed into the West End from work and, while biking down Constitution Hill through Green Park, looked up to see Big Ben rising above the trees ahead. Sigh. I love Big Ben. And then I cycled past Buckingham Palace. You know, like you do. Then Trafalgar Square. There's nothing quite like cycling past internationally known national monuments. It's really fucking cool.
Tonight I fly to Dublin for 48 hours. Will is starring in a production of Caligula for the Dublin Fringe that Conor's directing, Cian is producing, and Simon Ashe-Browne is acting in. How could I say no? It'll be good to have the weekend away - things are going to get crazy next week with moving into the new place, and... well, just moving into the new place, I guess. But that's plenty of crazy for me.
The good thing about being the only one in the house who's a nine-to-fiver is that I end up with about five housewives as a default. Several times in the past week I've come home to a chipper Karim, Carrie, and company saying, "We're making dinner!", and then regaling me with the menu of a meal I'll shortly be devouring. This (real) sceneario plays much more nicely into the adult fantasia. I don't like the "I'm tired and no fun" parts, but I do like having dinner made for me, yes I do.
The funny thing about this whole "ew, I feel so old and grey and stuffy and boring, what a gross life" crisis that I've been going through this past week is that it only takes one night out for me to realise that my life is still in my control, as helpless as I sometimes behave (and I think we can all agree I've been doing more than my share of whinging this summer). Last night I biked straight from work to the Barbican, where I met up with Theo and we grabbed dinner and then saw the Complicite show. The show was a little disappointing, but I'm still glad I saw it, and it was nice to bike home in the cool night air to round out my 15 mile day. The whole out-and-about thing snapped me right out of my funk, and the biking gave me plenty of energy to stay up chatting and eating rose, mango, and cardamom-with-pistachio-and-almond ice creams with Rebecca, Jed, Natali, and Agnese once I got home.
Speaking of biking, I have another bike! This is the second one I've gotten from the used bike store, and I think this one may be the keeper. It's not a racer, but it's lighter and faster than the other one, and it's been working out great for the past week. If yesterday's day of biking was any indication, girl's a little trouper. Yes, she's a girl. I've come up with a name, too, but I'm not going to share it until it's official.
I know I've mentioned this before, but I'm gonna go ahead and say it again - biking in London is awesome. I was reminded of this yesterday when I headed into the West End from work and, while biking down Constitution Hill through Green Park, looked up to see Big Ben rising above the trees ahead. Sigh. I love Big Ben. And then I cycled past Buckingham Palace. You know, like you do. Then Trafalgar Square. There's nothing quite like cycling past internationally known national monuments. It's really fucking cool.
Tonight I fly to Dublin for 48 hours. Will is starring in a production of Caligula for the Dublin Fringe that Conor's directing, Cian is producing, and Simon Ashe-Browne is acting in. How could I say no? It'll be good to have the weekend away - things are going to get crazy next week with moving into the new place, and... well, just moving into the new place, I guess. But that's plenty of crazy for me.
Tuesday 18 September 2007
Smells like Autumn
Today is a crisp, clear, chilly day that makes me think of home. It feels like a Macalester day, a Dunns day, a day when you're driving down River Road with the windows down even though it's far too cold for it, and you round a corner and suddenly all the trees are aflame with colour, and it takes your breath away.
I love this weather, but I'd love it more if I owned more sweaters. Time to hit the charity shops.
I love this weather, but I'd love it more if I owned more sweaters. Time to hit the charity shops.
Monday 17 September 2007
Of House and Heroes
Well, we put down a deposit for the house. (Yes, that one I didn't like.) I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but since I was the only one making a stink and I'm never the one who has to do the grunt-work of seeing houses anyway, it seemed to make the most sense that I go with the crowd on this one. There's more to say about that, but not online. I just wish I knew how much of my unhappiness at the moment is real, and how much of it is sickness/stress/fatigue/hormones.
Yes, I have been battling all these four (sickness, stress, fatigue, hormones) for as many days, which has meant that I have not been the most rational or most pleasant person to be around. Several crying jags (more or less unwarranted) and three loads of laundry (very warranted) later, I'm feeling better, albeit still sick/stressed/fatigued/hormonal. But there is solace to be found in this state of melancholy, and that solace is....
HEROES!
I'm totally hooked.
Karim knows about this website where you can watch all the first season episodes online for free, and after less than a week I'm already up to episode fifteen out of twenty-three. It's all very exciting. I'd tell you where I am in the sequence of events but I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. Let's just say that the end of the last episode I watched last night had me grinning and going, "No WAY! NO WAY!!" Ah, the carefully-planned serendipity of prime time television series. Ah, escapism. Ah, Heroes.
A real-life hero of mine, Ana Mirtha, returns to London tonight!, much to my delight. She is so full of light and joy, I can only imagine she will dispel these clouds that have been lurking around me of late. Again, the house on Haycroft will be stuffed to the brim, and I will be happier for it.
Yes, I have been battling all these four (sickness, stress, fatigue, hormones) for as many days, which has meant that I have not been the most rational or most pleasant person to be around. Several crying jags (more or less unwarranted) and three loads of laundry (very warranted) later, I'm feeling better, albeit still sick/stressed/fatigued/hormonal. But there is solace to be found in this state of melancholy, and that solace is....
HEROES!
I'm totally hooked.
Karim knows about this website where you can watch all the first season episodes online for free, and after less than a week I'm already up to episode fifteen out of twenty-three. It's all very exciting. I'd tell you where I am in the sequence of events but I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. Let's just say that the end of the last episode I watched last night had me grinning and going, "No WAY! NO WAY!!" Ah, the carefully-planned serendipity of prime time television series. Ah, escapism. Ah, Heroes.
A real-life hero of mine, Ana Mirtha, returns to London tonight!, much to my delight. She is so full of light and joy, I can only imagine she will dispel these clouds that have been lurking around me of late. Again, the house on Haycroft will be stuffed to the brim, and I will be happier for it.
Friday 14 September 2007
False starts
I'm back at work after taking a sick day as a result of my headcold, and I'm starting to wish I'd taken today off, as well. It's been a bit of a frustrating week. The house in Leyton has fallen through due to the fact that none of us have UK-based rent guarantors, and the other house that Carrie and Karim found (which was cheaper and closer to school) I didn't like. They're going to try to set up some more viewings today but, as ever, I won't be able to go with them. I feel bad, because they were ready to take this place until my sick-ass self came in and was like, No. It's plenty of space, it's just in this very unpretty brick-and-concrete complex of boxy flat/houses and has textured hotel wallpaper and feels so unwelcoming to me. But now I feel like a problem child, and like I'm making life difficult for everyone around me. I wish I could tell how much of my reaction to this house was me genuinely not liking it, and how much was just me being sick. Because house-renting is one situation where I feel like I shouldn't settle for something less than what I'm happy with, but I don't want to dismiss it for the wrong reasons.
I also bought a bike this week, which would be cause for celebration but for the fact that I don't think I like it either. It's this chunky little road bike which was cheap and works great, but is a bit heavy and slow for my taste (which makes a difference, especially as I'm going to be biking 15-20miles a day once school starts). Luckily, they have a no-problem return policy, so I think I'm just going to trade it in for a slightly pricier, much faster one tomorrow. It's frustrating, though, to think you have a problem sorted and then to realise that you don't.
Maybe I'm just being a princess this week, and pouty and way too difficult to please. Maybe it's the headcold. Regardless, I'm hoping that by this time tomorrow, the knots will have started to untangle themselves, and my mind and lungs will be more clear.
I also bought a bike this week, which would be cause for celebration but for the fact that I don't think I like it either. It's this chunky little road bike which was cheap and works great, but is a bit heavy and slow for my taste (which makes a difference, especially as I'm going to be biking 15-20miles a day once school starts). Luckily, they have a no-problem return policy, so I think I'm just going to trade it in for a slightly pricier, much faster one tomorrow. It's frustrating, though, to think you have a problem sorted and then to realise that you don't.
Maybe I'm just being a princess this week, and pouty and way too difficult to please. Maybe it's the headcold. Regardless, I'm hoping that by this time tomorrow, the knots will have started to untangle themselves, and my mind and lungs will be more clear.
Wednesday 12 September 2007
Oh no!
And now I have a headcold! Gah! And every itty-bitty muscle and fiber in my Whole Body is sore and knotted and stiff! Ack!
Plan for tonight:
Chicken noodle soup (or equivalent)
Cup after cup of ginger tea
Youtube or DVD
Bedtime at 8pm.
Engage.
Plan for tonight:
Chicken noodle soup (or equivalent)
Cup after cup of ginger tea
Youtube or DVD
Bedtime at 8pm.
Engage.
Tuesday 11 September 2007
Bleagh.
You know those days where you're just generally pissy and irritable for no reason?
I'm having one of those days.
I'm having one of those days.
Monday 10 September 2007
I guess I was tired
I overslept this morning by a good two hours, but in exchange for being late to work I got a dream that I wouldn't have traded for anything. I was in the backseat of a car, driving through a green and unknown city with a man I [have] love[d], talking and laughing and catching up and working out the time difference between London and Florida. I showed him my scrapes and bruises from my cycling accident; he introduced me to his friends. They were all very impressed. I pretended to be a campy gay man, and we all laughed.
And as much as it sucks to wake up and realise you were meant to be in the office ten minutes ago, the glow I got off that dream was the best way to start the day.
In other news, the bike is broken again. I've decided to stop calling it "my bike" because I am officially relinquishing responsibility for it. Besides, Maria lent it to me for the summer, so technically it's hers, and she found it in a bush outside a prison. So. Apparently the bottom bracket needs to be replaced, and I've decided it's just not worth it. So happy early birthday to me, I'm going tomorrow after work to buy my own used ride, graciously funded by my parents. Thanks, Mom and Dad!
This weekend also marked the finding of a house for next year! While I was at work on Friday, Karim, Carrie, and Baerbel pounded the pavement all day looking at places, and then took me to see the pick of the bunch on Saturday. It's kinda far away - it's in Leyton, which is Zone 3, and it will be an hour commute into work by either tube or bike (though only a 15min cycle ride to school) - but the house is lovely and newly refurbished and furnished and CHEAP. We'll probably be paying less than £290pcm each, and we'll have loads of space. I'm very pleased. The landlady is very nice and very involved, and we're all currently trying to clear the necessary hurdles with finding guarantors, filling out the necessary paperwork, etc. Hopefully we'll be moving in on the 1st! How exciting! And plenty of space means plenty of room for visitors...
Other than that, I saw Peter Brooks' The Mahabharata at the Barbican yesterday, complete with post-film discussion with the man himself, and worked Saturday night. Tonight I have my induction class at the Circus Space. And then I go to sleep - perchance to dream?
And as much as it sucks to wake up and realise you were meant to be in the office ten minutes ago, the glow I got off that dream was the best way to start the day.
In other news, the bike is broken again. I've decided to stop calling it "my bike" because I am officially relinquishing responsibility for it. Besides, Maria lent it to me for the summer, so technically it's hers, and she found it in a bush outside a prison. So. Apparently the bottom bracket needs to be replaced, and I've decided it's just not worth it. So happy early birthday to me, I'm going tomorrow after work to buy my own used ride, graciously funded by my parents. Thanks, Mom and Dad!
This weekend also marked the finding of a house for next year! While I was at work on Friday, Karim, Carrie, and Baerbel pounded the pavement all day looking at places, and then took me to see the pick of the bunch on Saturday. It's kinda far away - it's in Leyton, which is Zone 3, and it will be an hour commute into work by either tube or bike (though only a 15min cycle ride to school) - but the house is lovely and newly refurbished and furnished and CHEAP. We'll probably be paying less than £290pcm each, and we'll have loads of space. I'm very pleased. The landlady is very nice and very involved, and we're all currently trying to clear the necessary hurdles with finding guarantors, filling out the necessary paperwork, etc. Hopefully we'll be moving in on the 1st! How exciting! And plenty of space means plenty of room for visitors...
Other than that, I saw Peter Brooks' The Mahabharata at the Barbican yesterday, complete with post-film discussion with the man himself, and worked Saturday night. Tonight I have my induction class at the Circus Space. And then I go to sleep - perchance to dream?
Friday 7 September 2007
Ramblings from a rambler
I found myself thinking this morning about Megan Erickson, a really incredible woman and Peace Corps volunteer that I met in East Africa. She was my age, and conversational/fluent in Swahili, and spoke the local tribal language as well (she was based in Rombo district in Tanzania, about halfway up Mt Kilimanjaro), and she was kind, and funny, and so capable and mature and, well, a woman. I don't feel like I've necessarily earned the title "woman" yet, but this woman definitely had. Maybe that strength of self has something to do with living on your own in a developing country for two years trying to make the world a better place.
It's funny: in a lot of ways, living in London has been harder for me than living in Uganda (though this thought could easily be the result of fuzzy memory.) I do have the sense that I've learned more about myself at LISPA than I did volunteering. But I also think that I felt like I was more myself in Uganda. How does that work, I wonder?
It feels sometimes like the older I get, the more I have to face up to my insecurities. The funny thing is, these insecurities are often ones that I don't remember ever having before. The one that comes up most often is needing to be liked, wanting to be loved. This comes up a lot in my interpersonal relations (especially here, where I wouldn't say that I've found a "best friend" per se, the way I tend to find them in other places and eras [high school, college, Dublin]). It's strange, a year into my friendships with a lot of these people, to still feel that they're largely casual friendships. Especially since I so often desperately want something deeper, more profound. And I often end up feeling like these people are "so much cooler" than me, and feel a little weird around them because I want to be their friend, even though I am their friend, and I'm always playing low status and rarely really just relaxing and genuinely being myself. Speaking to Gemma on the phone the other week, I said, "I think I need to stop trying to find my place in order to find my place." And that's it, really. I need to just be, and have faith, and everything will fall into place.
I realise, too, that I project the image of being enormously self-sufficient and independent a lot of the time (or at least since I moved here.) I'm always running around and doing things, and if I can't find someone to go with, fuck it, I'll go by myself. And there's nothing wrong with that - in fact, I think it's important sometimes to push myself in that way. But it's important, too, that I acknowledge that if I need people in my life to a greater degree, I'm the one who needs to make an effort in that direction, too.
That's another reason it's been so lovely to be living with so many people this summer. I'm surrounded by people all the time, and I love it. I'm an extrovert, what can I say.
The other icky side of the "needing to be liked" thing is that I think that it sometimes stands in the way of my being a good performer - or rather, the best performer I can be. I truly believe that I have the potential to be a great performer, but I can only unleash that potential when I get over myself and ideas of how I should be, and get over other people and ideas of what they think of me. I'll never be able to achieve that true transparency of great performers until I let everything else fall away and just let myself enjoy, and breath, and listen, and be.
Hmm... I'm sensing a pattern here.
This summer has been so great, because it's given me the space to think and absorb these experiences of myself over three continents and 18months. There's nothing particularly ground-breaking or new about these thoughts, but I haven't been able to articulate them all in quite the same way and in the same space before, and I think that's valuable. Not that this is the most articulate self-examination in the world, but that's not the point. This is for me more than anyone.
In this moment, I'm thinking that something else that might be important for me is to stay in London after I graduate. I'll probably change my mind. Most likely more than once. I don't even know if it would even be logistically possible to stay here. But it may not be the time to come back to Minneapolis after just one more year. I get the sense that I still haven't figured out who I am away from that home yet, and I'll need more time to figure it out. But who knows, really? Sometimes I look at all the people I love who are there, and all the amazing art and community and joy that city has to offer and I can't wait to get back and be a part of it all. So I guess I don't know (another recurring theme). Everything is possible. The only thing for it is to wait and see.
It's funny: in a lot of ways, living in London has been harder for me than living in Uganda (though this thought could easily be the result of fuzzy memory.) I do have the sense that I've learned more about myself at LISPA than I did volunteering. But I also think that I felt like I was more myself in Uganda. How does that work, I wonder?
It feels sometimes like the older I get, the more I have to face up to my insecurities. The funny thing is, these insecurities are often ones that I don't remember ever having before. The one that comes up most often is needing to be liked, wanting to be loved. This comes up a lot in my interpersonal relations (especially here, where I wouldn't say that I've found a "best friend" per se, the way I tend to find them in other places and eras [high school, college, Dublin]). It's strange, a year into my friendships with a lot of these people, to still feel that they're largely casual friendships. Especially since I so often desperately want something deeper, more profound. And I often end up feeling like these people are "so much cooler" than me, and feel a little weird around them because I want to be their friend, even though I am their friend, and I'm always playing low status and rarely really just relaxing and genuinely being myself. Speaking to Gemma on the phone the other week, I said, "I think I need to stop trying to find my place in order to find my place." And that's it, really. I need to just be, and have faith, and everything will fall into place.
I realise, too, that I project the image of being enormously self-sufficient and independent a lot of the time (or at least since I moved here.) I'm always running around and doing things, and if I can't find someone to go with, fuck it, I'll go by myself. And there's nothing wrong with that - in fact, I think it's important sometimes to push myself in that way. But it's important, too, that I acknowledge that if I need people in my life to a greater degree, I'm the one who needs to make an effort in that direction, too.
That's another reason it's been so lovely to be living with so many people this summer. I'm surrounded by people all the time, and I love it. I'm an extrovert, what can I say.
The other icky side of the "needing to be liked" thing is that I think that it sometimes stands in the way of my being a good performer - or rather, the best performer I can be. I truly believe that I have the potential to be a great performer, but I can only unleash that potential when I get over myself and ideas of how I should be, and get over other people and ideas of what they think of me. I'll never be able to achieve that true transparency of great performers until I let everything else fall away and just let myself enjoy, and breath, and listen, and be.
Hmm... I'm sensing a pattern here.
This summer has been so great, because it's given me the space to think and absorb these experiences of myself over three continents and 18months. There's nothing particularly ground-breaking or new about these thoughts, but I haven't been able to articulate them all in quite the same way and in the same space before, and I think that's valuable. Not that this is the most articulate self-examination in the world, but that's not the point. This is for me more than anyone.
In this moment, I'm thinking that something else that might be important for me is to stay in London after I graduate. I'll probably change my mind. Most likely more than once. I don't even know if it would even be logistically possible to stay here. But it may not be the time to come back to Minneapolis after just one more year. I get the sense that I still haven't figured out who I am away from that home yet, and I'll need more time to figure it out. But who knows, really? Sometimes I look at all the people I love who are there, and all the amazing art and community and joy that city has to offer and I can't wait to get back and be a part of it all. So I guess I don't know (another recurring theme). Everything is possible. The only thing for it is to wait and see.
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