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sometimes i get this feeling
it happens when someone makes the right joke
or says exactly the right thing
and i think that i have known them before i was born in 1986.
i've never really bought into the reincarnation jazz
but
there are times when i picture us arriving on the shores of the New World.
a flash of friends suffering in the bubonic plague.
were we comrades during the revolutionary or cold war?
did we fight for the North or defend states rights?
somehow i feel as if i am connected to a past that i've only heard about in textbooks.
but what if we were going to see each other again?
maybe by the time they finally make flying cars
you'll see me in the eyes of young child
soaring across the sky.
think, Love,
were we indian prince and princess long ago?
did we ringlead a travelling circus during the first great depression?
i don't know, and i have no way of knowing, but
think, Love,
if being together forever only meant finding each other
once more, in another life.
i would search high and low.
i would track down every person until i found
that spirit that is so hauntingly familiar.
before Christ, you were a greek goddess that people wrote about in storybooks.
in Egypt, your hands help build the pyramids that so many would visit.
through centuries you shapeshifted from warrior to servant to gypsy fortune teller to medical nurse.
in the 1800s we were slaves in the South and our spirituals were our love letters.
(you always wrote back.)
in the 1930s, you were Hollywood movie star that made even Judy Garland envious.
from one lifetime to the next, you fade and reappear
like my soul trying to catch one more breath.
i will be looking for you, Love.
and when we meet
whether by land or sea or space and time
my lifeforce will flutter in your presence.
like two fireflies in the night that can't help but know
what real warmth feels like.
so please, Love,
look for me.
because when the timing's just right
you'll see me
in the twinking of an eye.
i don't write as much anymore these days and that's sad; but at the same time, when i would normally be scribbling away in some store-bought notebook, i am getting things done. (of course, i am typing away on a "store-bought" laptop as well, so maybe i shouldn't parade on a pseudo-high horse.) life is getting weirder and weirder. i've decided that i am not auditioning. there is absolutely no way to pull it off. i am taking one class, teaching three sections of public speaking labs, and working on that huge monster of a thesis.
"I have a wedding to arrange, a wife to murder, and Gilder to frame for it. I'm swamped."
but there is always Guerrilla, and this might be my final year for it. there are a lot of goodbyes this year, and the year hasn't even started. whatever. i can already tell it's going to be an adventure.
i keep bouncing back between PhD school or finally teaching and coaching my own team. money is so seductive. health and dental sounds really great. but i am always going to be left to wonder if i don't at least apply. more class time is more money for me in the long run. sounds like a fair investment. we'll see.
let's just take a moment to talk about what the weather is doing to my HAIR! the end. (it's short but it keeps doing this ridiculous curl thing in the front and i'm probably getting it cut soon.)
i have to start researching...blerrrg.
to many people, i've probably dropped off of the face of the planet. i've been in and out of tuscaloosa; venturing to prattville, missouri, and anywhere else that calls. it's been fun (sort of). i love my family. but i miss friends. it will be wonderful to see everyone next week.
there are things that i wish i could tell you about, but the new release for that movie is weeks away. the production is going very well. i think audiences may be pleased with what they see.
oh yeah: i want to go to scottsboro, and to an aquarium, and to six flags, and to the beach, and somewhere very far away--just so i have a reason to miss home and come back.
on the day that icons died
we said bye
to mcmahon, fawcett, and jackson.
even though summer seems like death
season for celebrities
i feel Grim creeping
like an unnecessary dementor
in yet another Harry Potter film.
i'm feeling low from the blow
that no one could have possibly had known.
but Death is reminding me that He still exists.
i didn't know ed mcmahon that well
besides that he was old and gave out checks to people
despite the fact that he couldn't afford his own home.
he died mainly because he was old.
after a "courageous battle" --as cliche as they say--
farrah fawcett died of cancer.
and after cardiac arrest in his home
and after much effort from paramedics
CNN finally gave in and confirmed the death
of michael jackson--the King of Pop.
and i'm sitting in my dimmed apartment
living room
and my heart is moaning.
in 1996 my mother passed away from cancer.
and years later my dad had a 6-way artery bypass surgery.
my dad is still living and presumably doing well
but he and the King of Pop were both born in 1958.
i am sitting in my dimmed apartment living room
and my heart is moaning
and reminding me that Death is not dead
and making His rounds about the town.
even years after his surgery
i still have fears and panics about my dad passing away.
my phone vibrates, someone tells me that i need to call home
an entire lifetime of scenarios blur
and i can barely sift through my contact list.
the line rings and rings and rings and
it's his voice, and i can tell that life is okay.
i don't write these days
because i'm afraid(?)
i don't know why
but
i'll have an idea
and hear the lines calling me in my head
to write them down
and i stop.
and it is the saddest feeling in the world
to feel that writing words
may not be enough.
when did i do it?
and what can i do to make it go away?
story of my freaking life.
when i have earphones in,
i think i accidentally snore
--when i breathe with a little too much
relaxation.
i love the weather.
so cliche to say, but hey:
it warms my soul
and i find myself
almost managing
a smile.
(just saying.)
nobody
really
gets it.
NO ONE
GETS IT.
good God help me.
i really
don't
like myself.
http://www.cw.ua.edu/guerilla_shows_audi
before reading my response and spiel you may want to read the article provided by the link above.
if you are still reading this, you are updated and now i can get to the good stuff.
first, let me say: thank you God, someone decided to say something. granted, there are some glaring inaccuracies and claims made within the article--such as all the performers being drunk, even the spelling of guerrilla theatre (not that it matters too much).
however, it is important to recognize how revealing this article is concerning the status of APO and guerrilla's image.
clearly, drinking is an issue. not only have guerrilla groupies have sufficiently pre-gamed (drinking beforehand), but also APO members AND OFFICERS, and (i imagine at times) performers. the fact that alcohol and drunkeness is so interwoven in this account of guerrilla should be a clue as to what people think of us. quite frankly, it's sad. how are any of us supposed to be taken seriously if so many are acting like fools? we all have that friend sitting next to us that we have to quiet down because they're being too loud or unruly (jake hougaboom, etc.). jake is actually sitting next to me as we speak he would like to say "i wish i didn't have to drink before a guerrilla--it's the only way i can get through them." i've heard other similar accounts, and perhaps, you reading this, may feel the same.
also, inside jokes ARE a problem. now, let me preface this and say that guerrilla is primarily an APO/theatre dept event. however, this does not mean entire nights should be spent alienating people who have no idea what's going on. if we are going put on a public show, we have to take into consideration who our audience consists of. currently, it seems that performers are more interested in playing up to the theatre crowd. that's fine. but don't expect a good turnout or good response from the general. but let me remind those people who plan on performing for a living--the general public IS your audience. just because everyone in the department likes you, or your little clique of friends likes you does not affirm or validate talent. i'm not saying that people don't have talent--clearly several of you do. but we have to break up the cliques within APO and theatre, and work towards being more inclusive to the audience that we supposedly want to attract. i've spoken to many pledges who have dropped out of the pledging process this year. why? the number one answer i get is: alienation. those who do not fit comfortably in to the huntsville or birmingham pre-formed inner circles have a tough time finding a place. this shouldn't be an issue. another pledge i spoke to said, "there's just no love. you don't really feel cared for." <<< this is particularly upsetting to me. the reason i joined APO was because of the people, because of the community. but it seems that there are too many inner circles to care about the entire organization. i do want to tip my hat to jeff ingram for the henry V cookout--what a nice way for people to come out and just spend time together. yeah, it was cold. but i got to see/speak with people in a social setting that i may not find other than guerrilla, and guerrilla is not a social setting--because the performances go beyond what you see on stage.
additionally, the author of the CW article makes a good point: we should put promote original works. there's nothing more refreshing than seeing something new. if we know the song you're singing or the scene you're performing, you can't blame us if we're not 100% riveted. over the years, CW reviewers have suggested that original works do really well. the jacqueline and ben scene with people as furniture? awesome.
finally, we cannot forget the matt jones fiasco. i've already commented on this, and i feel like he time is still due. imagine someone robbing you of your final dramatic moment in that monologue or song. i don't know who was keeping/calling time. but just because an act isn't going over well does not mean you reserve the right to stop it. the audience can have their fair amount of response to the act, but those running guerrilla should ensure that as long as no animals are being killed and the set isn't being damaged and no crimes are being committed that the actors have their 10 minutes.
one last thing and i'll shutup: standard. yes, guerrilla is an experimental space for anyone who can perform anything they want to. been there. it's true. however, we need to consider the example that each of us setting and communicating not only to underclassmen, but to the public and the rest of the department. the grads do not come to guerrilla as often. the faculty do not come to guerrilla at all. and the audience that is coming is growing to be more and more unruly (and you members/pledges are encouraging it). you are the ones coming in with your cups, and bottles. hell, there was an entire bottle of jack next to the dressing rooms. i'm tired of the joke being that you have to be drunk to get through a guerrilla. because it's not a joke, it's a damn near fact. and there's something wrong with that. it's time that members, pledges, alumni, and supporters start taking things a bit more seriously and professionally. priority should be fostering a real community, cultivating and encourgaging talent (old and new). priority should be about showing the 114ers what we expect out of them in a UA production. how can we expect them to come into UA shows and be behaved when we are such horrible, horrible audience members sitting next to them in guerrilla? the priority should not be about half-assed efforts, poor etiquette, and the latest inside joke.
if we're going to put on a show, let's put on a damn show. you are all wonderful, talented people, but quite frankly, i do not like being around half of you during guerrilla or other social situations because of the alcohol and your balase attitude about the profession that you claim to love so much.
please know that i do not mean everyone applies to this. some people are doing some wonderful work and it's evident. but we should NOT alienate, exclude, or silence those who wish to be a part of what guerrilla can be.
p.s. the acts in the past guerrilla weren't that bad actually. i was impressed with a few people and would like to see more.
so the last guerrilla wasn't too shabby.
it was evident that people have been really working on stuff.
amazing how a little hard work shines through.
maybe i can face the music after all, haha.
special kudos and tons of beads to eryn, thad, and zacc.
i like you guys a lot. let's do something.
p.s. matt jones and his crew got cut off at 6:45.
i don't think that's fair. everyone is entitled to their ten minutes.
why, APO? WHY WHY WHY????!!!!????
i just don't understand.
why is guerrilla theatre being turned into guerrilla concert???
yes, people who sing are very talented and should be recognized appropriately,
BUT
7. SE-VEN. of the ten acts are songs.
i don't think i can get through it
was what one of my friends said
i'm definitely showing up drunk
he said.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
here's what we've become, APO!
a drunken circle jerk while we all sing koombaya--the musical.
i wouldn't mind songs--if it wasn't every other act.
i wouldn't mind songs--if people could actually make me feel like it's a character who happens to be singing about a real struggle.
there are some truly gifted people, and all the more power to them.
i've been very impressed with several people
BUT
i just want to have variety, in a so called variety show.
GUERRILLA
SATURDAY, 11 PM.
AB THEATRE
bring a pillow (and a flask).
loving and losing is so worth it.
i could only imagine the reasons for why she disappeared
my only guess was: with such a suffocating circle of associates
she wanted to get away--even just for a night.
because in tight situations
who hasn't thought of escaping from the life they're obligated to?
of leaving everything behind
keys, phone, purse, personal belongings, even ID
and wandering aimlessly into the open night.
have you ever just wished that you could disappear?
i don't know this girl that much at all
i don't know what her life is like
and i'm sure her friends are dandy but
it's amazing how tight the grip around your neck is when you can't seem to even breathe.
i picture her tip toeing out of the bar
and walking barefoot in the night towards the streetlights.
her hair is flowing
she doesn't falter
and she doesn't look back.
she walks with purpose
and the destination is infinite.
it makes me think of what it would be like to disappear
makes me think of packing my car with a few essential items
and escaping up to a lakehouse that i'm not even sure if my grandmother owns anymore.
i don't remember exactly how to get there
but i would find a way.
and i would live on the lake for however long it would take to fade away.
no books.
no phones.
no computer.
just me
and earth
that i never get to spend time with.
when postsecret first started publishing postcards online
i'll never forget a secret which pictured two burning towers
that read:
"everyone who knew me before 9/11 believes i'm dead"
this person, whoever they were,
though i know nothing
absolutely nothing
of their life
i know the pang of that feeling when it hits and bruises the back of the heart
it'll knock the wind out of you and you know
that you need to get out.
this is your only chance.
you need to get away.
to wither with the morning mist and wish to never return--until You were ready.
so maybe that's what she did.
maybe she needed a night off
from the responsibility of her assumed identity
because in an open night like this
who wouldn't disappear? --even if it was just for a few hours.
I haven't been sleeping. I
haven't been clear or felt like
myself. I'm in trouble. Some son
of a bitch is burning my bridges
behind my back... But the
tiredness -- boy... Not just
sleepy.
SIMON
But sick -- nauseous -- where
everything looks distorted and
everything inside just aches --
when you can barely get up the
will to complain.
MELVIN
(brightening)
Yeah...
wonderful tiiiiime
of the year.
You have to ask me nicely. You see,
Danny, I can deal with the bullets and the
bombs and the blood. I can deal with the
heat and the stress and the fear. I don't
want money and I don't want medals. What
I want is for you to stand there in that
faggoty white uniform, and with your
Harvard mouth, extend me some fuckin'
courtesy. You gotta ask me nicely.
and i have no idea what we are doing.
we begin somewhat on topic and we never fail to end up listening to people talk about their personal lives and what they think about their pop culture references that fail to be analogous to the discussion. we are assigned readings of 50+pgs and we never get to the material. i might as well be taking an independent study b/c i can very well read all this info and somewhat teach myself. i just don't see why i have to show up for 2 1/2 of my time to listen to you talk about your personal life that only matters to you.
granted we cover some pretty cool stuff every now and then, but i've never thought so many times "what are we Talking about?" "why is this important?" "what does this have to do with what we're studying?" i know i'm being harsh, but this semester is rough. i want to feel like i'm accomplishing something, and talking about your favorite tv shows during class time makes me mentally check out--which is why i'm typing away on my laptop during class time that should be spent in a better way.
sounds so much like undergrad, right? oh, those science courses! you would think that once you got to grad school, you could enjoy studying your area of focus--but you're studying everyone else's areas of focus!
so much reading for so little pay out. too much circle jerking and not any real discussion. and stupid people love to talk. boy, do they love to talk.
i'm just saying that my time in grad school right now does not seem to be effectively preparing me for much of anything :-/
at least with this class.
and yeah, i know i'm being overdramatic and i'm not having a good day, but
i am SO. BORED.
