New Adventures

Months after my last post, the landscape has (literally) changed, and I find myself in Los Angeles. This summer promises to be quite the adventure - I'm staying here with Diogo in Erin and Jones' living room, starting rehearsal on Friday for the new, improved, and extended version of Crossing the Bridge (Erin's final project at LISPA), which will also be the flagship production of Leonix Theatre Ensemble.

It's funny, in a way; L.A. is the last place I ever imagined myself. But these people are so compelling, this project so inspiring, that there was no hesitation in my decision to come out here for the summer. There are still a lot of unknowns - what will happen in the fall, for example, and if and how I'll be able to find work whilst here, and whether we'll all work together as well as we imagine - but that's what makes it an adventure, no?

To be honest, it felt a bit bittersweet to come out here at this precise moment, because for the first time in a long time I was really, really enjoying being in Minneapolis. So much so, in fact, that I really didn't feel any need or desire to leave. For so many years - high school onwards, really - when it came to Minneapolis I'd always had one foot out the door, one eye on the horizon, and so these last months in the Twin Cities, when I realised how content I was just to *be* there, were particularly sweet. And they were sweet months... beginning aerial classes, performing in Seven Jewish Children and the Ten Minute Festival at Bedlam, rediscovering the landscape of the metropolis by bike, happy hours and specials at Luce and Tracy's, the incorrigible bloom of the Cities in spring, a new appreciation for the community and my work at Dunns, QT in abundance with Mom and Finn, ANTM with Gemma, jigsaw puzzles with Sarah H, Smersh HQ meetings, MY FIVE YEAR COLLEGE REUNION (!), finding my connections within the Minneapolis artistic community, midnight photo shoots in Matthews park... the list goes on.

Perhaps as a result of the glow from these last few months, I'm operating more or less under the assumption that I'll be back in the Twin Cities for the fall (also as a result of being so happy in Mpls this spring, I decided *not* to apply to that MA programme in London. Yet.) But as we all know, these things can change in a matter of moments. My heart may lead me elsewhere - Portugal, London, some new and undisclosed location - or anchor me here, with the burgeoning and compelling work of this newly founded company, these beautiful and intelligent people. As much as I can, I'm trying not to worry, trying to remain open to all the possibilities within and without me.

Nevertheless, this summer feels Big. Important. Like the potential beginnings of some very big experiences and choices, both personally and professionally. And I can't help but wonder what the future will bring...

Waffler/Procrastinator Extraordinaire

Today was a (mostly) day off. As such, I was going to use it for lots of things. But mostly for writing an essay for entrance into grad school in London.

Does it surprise anyone that I've found ways of dancing around the actual writing of said essay all day long by running errands, and for the past hour by reading related materials online? And now I have to go walk the dog and eat dinner before work?

I'm still deciding if I even want to do this program. Actually, no. That's not true. I'd love to do it. But I'm still deciding if it's what I want and need Right Now. And I'm using that as an excuse to not even try. Lame, lame, lame.

It's a M.A. in Applied Drama: Theatre in Educational, Community, and Social Contexts, by the way. At Goldsmith's College. For this fall. Go figure.

In other news, Rob Brezny had yet more words of wisdom for me today... Argh. When will he stop being so relevant?!

No pain no gain

I have bruises the size of small island nations on the backs of my knees.  Such is the price one pays for aerial classes (that and a hundred odd bucks).  It's nice to have a scheduled activity like this twice a week, especially since it's a skill I want to learn, but I'm early enough in the process now that it's still Really Frustrating.  I feel clumsy and awkward and weak on the trapeze in particular, and when your forearms are aching after the first five minutes of an hour-long class, making it near-impossible to hold yourself up on the ropes, it's a little discouraging to say the least.

So now my challenge is to channel that frustration into determination, and start doing conditioning on my own time.  Hanging from monkey bars at the playground, press-ups and V-sits at home, working one of those little squeezy-grippy things you can get at Target... these will make up the humble beginnings of my regimen.  And if I don't start seeing some results in the next couple of weeks... well, I guess I'll just keep working.

I know, I know...

I've been crap about blogging.  But... WHAT TO WRITE?!  I don't know.  Life is constantly oscillating between epic and mundane, and I'm also mid-existential crisis ALL THE TIME.

I also have a CAPS-LOCK FIXATION.

But seriously... I know I've been bad about blogging.  Truth be told, it would probably be good for me to write more often, because it would force me to articulate all that's going on within and without me these days, and perhaps yield some answers (! wishful thinking alert!) about where I am, and where I'm going and where I want to be.

(.... Tall order.  You see why I've been having trouble figuring out what to write?)

But regardless... I should try.  It will do me good.  So I hereby usher in a new age of blogging, wherein I will write often, articulately, and well.  And in a timely fashion.

Starting tomorrow.

Once upon a time there was a princess...

Tonight, after dinner, while discussing family histories and weddings and the like and looking through old photo albums, Mom was inspired to bring up from the basement a huge box full of Isabel-related paraphernalia. We're talking book reports, drawings, report cards, critiques from piano competitions, the whole kit and kaboodle. I don't think we made it through a quarter of what-all was in there, but you know what we did find?

Stories. Lots and lots of stories.

All about princesses, usually who lived in castles, who were kidnapped by "bad guys" or "yucky animals" or dragons, and put in either a net or a cage until they were rescued by the prince, whom they subsequently married, and lived happily ever after. Most often the princesses were human, but we definitely also found the stories of the Zebra Princess, the Crab Princess, the Walking Talking Castle Princess, The Walking Talking Hat Princess, and the Squid Princess (all of which, despite their nonhuman nature, still managed to encounter similar fates as their human counterparts).

Pretty much all of these were written in a two-month stretch from Feb-March 1988. But still, it would seem that in my youth I was (perhaps unhealthily) obsessed with princesses.

(I'm unsure what conclusions to draw from that, really. And in fairness, there were also *lots* of stories from my junior high years wherein I was particularly concerned with gender reversal in fairy tales. But at the moment, I'm not too concerned.)

I ended up picking out a couple of my favorite princess stories, and posting them on the refrigerator. One of them goes like this:

"Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. She lived in a lovely castle. All of the princes loved her so she married the one she loved and they lived happily ever after. The End."

The Zebra Princess story made it on there, too: one of the few stories that didn't involve a prince. I would share it here, but to be honest the brilliance of it lies in its illustrations.

Anyway, the point of this entry is that I had a really lovely evening tonight. Mom and I were in hysterics reading princess story after princess story, and just had such a great time. Royalty we may not be, but we know how to have a royally good time.

Ugh.

I have a headcold, and we didn't get into the MN Fringe with Erin's show. Double bummer.

These past couple of days have felt exhausting. And I'm not even back at work yet! There's just so much to think about, and feel about, and on top of it all I'm ill and my uterus is in revolt. Basically, the only answer is to crawl into bed, cry like a four-year-old, and let the world take care of itself. I need to look out for me.

Le Freak, C'est Chic

I'm freaking out a little these days.