No more yielding than a dream.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve, and so opening weekend of A Midsummer Night's Dream is officially over. My few faithful readers, come and see this show. I don't know what it looks like from the audience's perspective, but so far it's been very well received, and I know I'm having a blast being part of it.

It's funny how the people we spend time with can become more like family than those of our own blood. The Montford Park Players are more of a family unit than any other theatre group I've ever encountered. This is a good and a bad thing. We love and laugh and play like family, we share one another's joys and woes, but as with any other family, there are times when siblings fly at each other's throats. But I'm not speaking about any particular instance, and everyone always seems to kiss and make up, so all and all, I'm of the opinion that the familial feeling we have is a wonderful and rare thing.

It gets me to thinking about how, more often than not, thespians are such a loving breed of creature. There are exceptions to the rule, of course, but I've found that although the stereotype of the catty, shallow actor does exist (and is at least a tiny bit present in all of us), that isn't all there is to it. Everyone can have those unstable moments that actors seem to be famous for, but what people tend to forget is that these are people who bare pieces of soul on a regular basis. It's only natural that they have wild emotional ranges as a result. I'm not trying to say that all actors are bipolar, far from it - most of them are much more levelheaded than they get credit for.

What I AM trying to say is that actors can have such a large capacity for love. Think about it - every couple of months, if we're lucky, we get cast in a new show. That show may or may not be comprised of actors that we have worked with before, and there's almost always at least SOMEONE new, so we readhese old bonds and form new ones. We spend insane amounts of time with other cast members, we set aside all inhibitions in order to be as free as possible onstage, and then all of a sudden, the show is over and we move on to reform a new family unit with a new cast. Sometimes, we might not ever see members of our old family again...but I don't think it's because we don't love each other. I suppose I can't speak for every other actor out there, but I know that I grow to love my cast mates. And I don't stop loving any of them just because I may not see them again.

I guess what really got me to thinking about all this is the fact that I ran into two old high school friends in the same day last Friday, two people that I always loved even though we might never have been best friends. We didn't pretend that we were going to keep in better touch, didn't exchange numbers and make those well-meant promises to go have lunch that people never intend to keep. We just hugged and caught up and laughed and said goodbye, and it was good.

Society seems to perpetuate this idea that in order to really love people, you have to keep in touch with them forever and call them every week, and that those are your best friends. I don't think I quite agree. I think there are people I could easily list among my "best friends" that I only talk to once every few months or less, and there are just as many people I would only call acquaintances that I see every day. There are people I loved dearly in high school that I no longer see because we've all scattered, but I still love them and think of them fondly, and not seeing them for six years hasn't changed that affection. And, in what seems to me to be the saddest situation, there are people I still love who I know no longer hold me in any kind regard. There are a select few who have spurned me, and all but one of that handful went so far as to say they "didn't need me anymore". Those four words hurt more than any other part of those friendships ending, because every time, those words brought the painful realization that a friendship I had believed to be healthy was really one-sided and based only on the other person's need.

But, I digress. The point I'm trying to make is that I still love even those people, and I wonder if this sort of capacity for love is what makes actors able to form and reform such strong family bonds over and over again. Then again, maybe I'm just imagining this trait in all actors. Maybe the best in this kind really are but shadows.

One last note - I've realized that my writing and my inner monologue during the summer tend to take on tones of Shakespearean text. I don't mean the lines I quote deliberately - I mean I catch myself thinking in thees, thous, shalts, wonts, etcetera etcetera. It's vaguely interesting. And now, to bed. Give me your hands if we be friends.

Introspection.

Wow. I just looked through my senior year high school yearbook....and at least half of the messages written in it are along the lines of "good luck on Broadway!" and "I can't wait to see your name up in lights!". What happened? Where did that ambition go? When did I lose the certainty I had?

Sometimes I think I should have gone with my first instinct and just skipped college. I was going to. I was THIS close to hopping on a bus and roughing it in New York City. But I didn't, because I convinced myself I needed a college education. And now where am I? Approximately $15,000 poorer than I was then. Still in WNC - living with my parents, at that. Got that degree, and it isn't doing me any good at all right now. And the worst thing about it is, I've let those dreams get pushed aside. They didn't die. I still have them. I just let reality get in the way, and I'm not pursuing them anymore. The one thing I wanted more than anything in the world was to be a Broadway actress, and I haven't done anything at all to achieve that. I haven't even moved to the right city. And as recent as two years ago, I was telling myself that I was just gonna stick around Asheville for a little while and build up some experience on my resume before taking off to the city....hell, as recently as eight months ago, everyone was asking me when I was going because I kept talking about it. And now....now I have no plans to go. Now my biggest plan is deciding which community theatre production to audition for in the fall.

But maybe...maybe I'm really not meant to go. I don't have the body to be on a stage, especially not when you consider the roles I'm the right age for. I don't have the training, not really. I don't have the money. Maybe I'm meant to be here. Maybe some of us are just born with ambitions that we'll never realize, and for some reason God put us here to give something else to the world instead. I just don't have what it takes to be what I truly want to be.

I know what I do have. I have a wonderful family and a wonderful group of friends. I have the opportunity to act often. I have few expenses. I have a wonderful, wonderful man in my life who I love very much, and every day I'm in awe of the fact that he loves me, too. I have my life. Which is sort of what spurned all this introspection - apparently a guy I graduated high school with was killed in a motorcycle accident Friday night. I remember him, but I can't remember how I knew him. I'm sure we had classes together. I feel like maybe we were sort of casual friends, the kind who might have joined forces for a group project or something. Maybe I let him copy my homework. I have a feeling that he was kind of a class clown at times. But honestly, that's all I can muster from my memory. It's really kind of sad to me, because I normally have such a good memory...and yet I can't remember one real fact about this boy who I'm SURE I at least had a few conversations with over the years. I remember his face, but all aspects of his personality keep getting mushed together with other people when I try to make myself remember. For a moment I'll think he was a guy I made out with once at a party years ago, and then I'll remind myself that no, that was a boy from the freshman showcase when I was a sophomore. And then I'll think to myself, "Oh yeah, he was that guy that always talked back in class" but then I'll realize that I'm actually thinking of a former student of mine.

It's so strange to think about people my age being dead. This is the second person from my graduating class to die. And then there's Karen, who wasn't in my class but who I actually knew. I saw her signature in the yearbook I was looking at earlier - it started out addressing me as "Mommy", told me to keep in touch, and signed off with love. I can't forget seeing her casket being lowered and thinking to myself, "They're putting one of my babies in the ground."

There are people whose lives are so short, but I'm sure that those short lives bring so much to enrich other people's. Some of us are meant to be Broadway stars, and some of us are here to heal a broken heart or help someone become a better person. Just because a person's dreams never get fulfilled doesn't mean that their life wasn't full of value. And every single one of us has dreams that won't come true. Maybe the real key is to be grateful for the ones that do.


"Some people are cut out to battle giants, and others are not."
~Into the Woods

Let's do the Time Warp again!

David was right - I need to post a quick blog about how RHPS went last night.

First off, I want to publicly (not that many people read this, but still) thank Carolina Cinemas for being so awesome. They're REALLY enthusiastic about Rocky Horror, and they've gone out of their way to be nice to us. We got the biggest theatre in house, and supposedly that's going to be our regular theatre. They were great about accomodating anything we needed...and most amazingly of all, the janitorial staff even said that THEY would clean up (usually it's the sole responsibility of the cast to do all the cleaning at the end of the night). So a big thanks to all of them, especially Casey, for being awesome.

I didn't SEE how the show went because I was onstage pretty much the whole time, but it FELT like it was awesome. The crowd wasn't huge, but we probably had about 60+ people, and I'm used to playing to a packed house for RHPS, so I guess in reality it was a really good crowd for a first time. Of course, we had two major obstacles - no props, and no cast! The former problem we handled as best we could, with plans to acquire props as we go along. The latter problem...I must say I am incredible proud of the people who stepped up last night. The only people who had any real experience doing Rocky were myself and Beth (who was Frank with Low Down Cheap Little Punks in Raleigh for a long time). Travis and Darren helped out, and they had both seen the show several times, so that was a big help. Gregory stepped up and was co-Frank with Beth, and he'd never done it before. And best of all...everyone else in the cast was a RHPS virgin! Most of them knew the movie pretty well, but had NEVER seen a live show....and the boy playing Rocky had NEVER EVEN SEEN THE MOVIE. All these kids were about 17-18, and they were such troopers. The girl playing Columbia was especially great - she really knew the film, and she had the sort of boundless enthusiasm that the character really needs.

Of course, what people don't realize is there has to be some sort of set blocking on the stage. Even though you're just copying the movie for the most part, there are no cameras to follow you around or make sure you're at the right angle standing next to the right person, so you have to cheat a little and know when to stand where or an entrance will be off. There weren't any major traffic jams, but that's the first thing I want to get cracking on when we get a real cast put together.

All in all, it was a great night. I'd almost forgotten how much I really love this movie. I know most people just see it as a really cheesy flick and a good excuse to throw toast in a theatre, but I really love the film on its own as well as the whole live experience. I've really missed the high that comes from performing as Magenta...and I can't wait for next month to do the Time Warp again!

Breaking the hiatus...

Well, because I felt like writing and because David kept asking for a new blog post....here's one.

Before I get philosophical, I just want to take a moment to be happy. Happy about life and general, and happy about specific things....such as: I met Scott's family this weekend. I wasn't really too nervous going into it because I still staunchly believe that if you like people, they'll like you....but it was still exciting. I really, really loved the ones I met. I think the two people I was most worried about having a good relationship was his mother and his neice, Layla; the former because I've seen enough to know that even the NICEST moms will be critical of anyone dating their sons, and the latter because babies can be anyone's toughest customer. Well, I already knew I was going to love his mama before I met her, and I was right...and she genuinely seemed to like me, too. I already knew I'd love Layla (I'd seen pictures of her and don't think it's possible not to think she's beautiful), but I didn't know how she'd react to me....and she took right up with me. By the end of the night we were playing on the floor together and she pointed at me when my name was said. I love kids so much. And now, on to the more philosophical side of my thoughts.

You know, sometimes I forget just how much I wanted to go to NYC.

That was my big dream in high school, and through most of college. When we were freshmen at ASU, I remember my then-best friend asking me on a bus ride, "Why are you even going to college? Why don't you just go to New York and act?" And I seriously considered doing just that. But I used the excuse that if I didn't get a college degree right away, I'd probably never go back...and I always said I was saving up money to go.

Now here I am, ten years after that dream first took root in my thirteen year old head, five years after that bus conversation. I still save my money. If I got on a plane now, I could last for at least a few months, even without any kind of a job. I still keep auditioning for shows, even if they are community theatre productions that I'm not getting paid for. I'm thirty pounds heavier than I was when I first thought about taking off and going...and even then, I was too heavy to really make it as an actress in a big city. People still ask me on a regular basis when I'm leaving...and for a while I said I was leaving this fall. Then this fall happened, and I ended up in Nuncrackers....that kept me here. Other things happened around the same time I was cast...and those kept me here, too. Well, at least one of those.

And sometimes, now, I wonder if I still really want to go at all. I still remember what that city feels like. I've been enough to know that the thrill is a familiar one, one that never fails to whisper, "This is where you belong." But now...I really love Asheville. I'm really happy here. There are far too many things within a two-hour radius of my home that I just don't think I could leave behind right now. Most of the time, I'm absolutely convinced that I'll be perfectly happy here for as long as I want...because at this point, I am perfectly happy and content. The only thing that's really making me unhappy is how much I miss someone when I'm not with him...but even missing him makes me happy in a way. I'm glad that I finally have him in my life to miss, instead of just missing having him in my life.

Who knows? I might stay here forever, or I might be halfway around the world this time next year. I might just be getting all philosophical because I watched The Muppets Take Manhattan last night and I still have Kermit's speech about "The frog is STAYIN'!" ringing in my ears, and it's pulling the part of me that gets lonely to the city that never sleeps. It's prodding me, asking me if I'm someday going to regret not taking that chance.

But to counteract that, there's so much family here. My blood family and my theatre family...both are always changing, always being added to and subtracted from, but they're here, and I love them. I think that love got reinforced this weekend when I got to meet another family very much like my daddy's, right down to being just as Southern. Only those kinds of Southern families can make you really, really feel at home with them, and I realized you don't get that in New York. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have big family dinners to help clean up after, open arms to hug, and sweet little babies to play with. It may seem a little mundane, but I really do love the simple little joys in life.

For better or for worse, I'm here for now. Here and now.

And since I'm in the habit of ending with a quote...here's two, not consecutive at all, but both from a Christmas chapter of The Time Traveler's Wife. The second relates to the blog...the first I just think is beautiful. I love this book so much...I'm reading it for the fourth or fifth time, now. Maybe if I keep plugging it with quotes, everyone I know will read it.


Clare: It's getting lighter outside. "Merry Christmas," I whisper. Henry doesn't answer, and I lie awake in his arms thinking about multitudes of angels, listening to his measured breath, and pondering in my heart.

Henry: Home sweet home. No place like home. Take me home, country roads. Home is where the heart is. But my heart is here. So I must be home.

Art in Autumn

Today was beautiful, both weather-wise and just...good-day wise. Slept in a little, got up and read a little (The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger - READ IT if you haven't). Took a shower and went to downtown Weaverville to walk around the Art in Autumn exhibits. It's only the second year they've done this, and it's the first year I've gone. It was really, really great, and I hate that it's only for one day. They block off a big section of Main Street and have all these booths of arts and crafts...no extra stuff like games or hot dog stands (although the church was selling barbeque for a fundraiser off a side street).

The booths were all just fantastic. The one that impressed me most was this guy I've heard about before, and seen his paintings in a magazine, but seeing them up close was just breathtaking. I nearly cried looking at a few of them. The paintings themselves are absolutely gorgeous, but on top of that, the guy is paralyzed from the neck down. He paints all of these beautiful works of art by holding a paintbrush in his mouth, and I can't even begin to describe the perfection and the detail of what he does. It's really and truly astounding. I ALMOST bought a really small print of these two mourning doves that just struck me as especially beautiful, but even the little print was $60, and I just didn't have that much money with me.

I did buy some stuff, though. I bought some really beautiful hair barrettes, two for me and one for my neice. I almost didn't get them since my hair is so much shorter now, but it's still long enough, and they're really gorgeous. I also bought SEVERAL pairs of earrings...they're all fashioned out of antique buttons, and they're so cool. They were also way cheaper than a bunch of not-so-pretty-or-unique earrings at other booths. I wish this woman had a website, but she doesn't yet. Anyway, I bought some for me, my mom, my cousin, and my aunt. I just haven't decided who's getting what, yet. I guess I'm getting the pair that I'm wearing right now, though...but there's still one extra pair, so I'll get those, too. They're really neat...I wish I had a picture to put up here.

Even with all these beautiful art exhibits and crafts, the most beautiful thing I saw all day was in the form of this four or five year old girl I kept seeing on the street. The first time I saw her, she was dancing with what must have been her little sister and another girl about her age on the street in front of where they were playing bluegrass, and the child just took my breath away. Her hair was so long, it didn't seem possible that at such a young age, she could even have been alive long enough to have grown all that hair. Her eyes were sky blue, and she just looked so happy, and so beautiful, dancing there, as well as later on when I saw her giggling and holding hands with the other girl her age. Somehow that one happy child was just the perfect embodiment of a beautiful, end-of-summer day in this tiny town. But I think what really drew me to her was she looked so familiar...any of you who know me at all know that I have very vivid, memorable dreams, and once in a great while, I dream about a little girl. Sometimes she's just a baby, sometimes she's a toddler, but I always know that she's mine. Usually I'm watching her play. This little girl that I saw today...I was just awestruck by how much she reminded me of the little girl I dream about. I sat down on the rock wall in front of the eye doctor's and pulled out the little notebook I carry with me, planning to jot down just enough about what I was seeing to remember it, but somehow the jotting turned into almost a poem.

Children dancing, bluegrass on Main St.
Little girl, long long long dark hair, cerulean blue eyes
Smiling, laughing, dancing, just as I've dreamt her -
Little sister falls down, and mother hurries them away
The spell is broken; I am awake.


Anyway, I don't want it to sound like I was going to steal this child from her mother or anything, it's just that the resemblance to the little girl in my dreams was uncanny, and for a moment while I was watching her, it really was like seeing one of my dreams acted out.

I'll end with a little bit from the Prologue of The Time Traveler's Wife, since I love this book so much right now...and honestly, since so much of this book seems to fit my life at the moment.


Clare: I keep myself busy. Time goes faster that way. I go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. I take walks. I work until I'm tired. I watch the wind play with the trash that's been under the snow all winter. Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absense?
Long ago, men went to sea, and women waited for them, standing on the edge of the water, scanning the horizon for the tiny ship. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting.

Imagine

I was watching the news tonight while eating supper, and almost the entire program was covering the woes on Wall Street going on right now. However, there was an exception that really struck me; during some technical difficulties, they switched over to talk about what's going on with the hurricane aftermath in Houston. It was all about kids going to visit the zoo that just reopened today because there's nothing to do at home without power, and about how students whose classes have been cancelled are spending that extra time volunteering, loading up bottled water to take to people who don't have any. One kid they interviewed said, "You know, all of us here volunteering are in the same boat, we don't have any power or water either." It was just such a heartwarming thing to hear on the news...

...and then suddenly Charlie Gibson was back on, apologizing for the technical difficulties and going back to the stock market coverage.

Why can't more of the news be about the heartwarming stuff? I know, drama sells, but seriously....do we really, REALLY need to be drowned in information about how badly the world is doing? We all know we're screwed, people. We all know that the economy is collapsing and that crime is rising. Why beat us over the head with it? Why can't we be reassured that there's still some good in the world?

I wish we could all just focus on the good a little bit more. Maybe that sounds cheesy and overly optimistic, but I mean it. Everyone wants to bitch and complain all the time...and while I know how to do my fair share of bitching and complaining, I get tired of it and feel the urge to compliment someone every now and then. I want to encourage and help and heal. I want to support the people I love in their endeavors, even when it's hard, or even when I don't really know what to DO for support except send them good wishes. We all get trained these days to be suspicious of compliments that come out of nowhere; everyone seems to think that everyone else is just after something.

Maybe I can't change the world, but I'd like to at least try to change my part of it. I'd like to remind people to smile a little more, to help strangers a little more, to just be kind a little more. Honestly, what harm could that do? It might take a little effort sometimes, but I guarantee at the end of the day, if you've managed to make another person smile, you'll be smiling, too.

...good grief, I sound like a Hallmark card. Anyway. Good thoughts to anyone who's reading this. Here's a song lyric. Thank you, John Lennon.

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to live or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope one day you'll join us
And the world will be as one.

Driving

So last night I was driving home after the show, and I literally don't think I've ever been so tired in my life. I didn't really realize it for a while...I even went out to Waffle House with Peyton and gave her a ride home, but by the time I hit 19-23, I was so exhausted I almost pulled over to take a nap. Then I thought, "It's just a few miles home, it'd be silly to stop now."

...and then I started hallucinating a little bit. Not kidding. One of the cars ahead of me took the vague shape of a really, really big fish swimming sideways, and it seemed to be leaking green slime all over the road ahead of me. The realization of what I thought I was seeing jerked me back awake for a bit, but the next thing I knew another car looked like the tail lights were eyes, and I swear it was growing clown hair out of the trunk. I got home, took out my contacts, pulled off my dress and went to sleep. It was a wild ride.

Speaking of driving (I've done a heck of a lot of it the past couple of days), it amazes me how beautiful it is to drive through these mountains. Especially on the smaller roads that twist and curve. I think I took one of the most beautiful drives of my life yesterday, even though the day before I had sworn I would never take that road again because of the fog and the curves. Anyway, I did. It's nice to be able to reflect on the road like that...it was just like one giant poem, in a way. All the youngest trees bend over the road curiously, peeking down at the cars passing by. The middle-aged trees stand up the straightest, tall and proud, as if they aren't even acknowledging that there's a road there and that life is continuing on the mountain just as it always has. You'd think the eldest trees would have that attitude, but they don't; they stand up straight, of course, but they're the ones who bend their branches out invitingly over the pavement in a canopy and let the sunlight filter through in a patchwork. Maybe they're being inviting, or maybe they're covering up the road so that, from the outside, you'd never know there was a road there at all.

The trees aren't the half of it. This time of year there are all sorts of caterpillar nests, and with the dew that stays on the mountain, the cobwebby globs shine white and ethereal in the trees. Every now and then, rivulets appear around the bend, cascading down the mountain in a shimmer. Moss creeps up the sides of boulders the size of small houses; the huge rocks appear just as suddenly as the rivulets, sheltering and sheilding. Above everything, there are clouds that descend in patches, misty angels hovering above and around and through everything.

It's all so beautiful, and I know it can be treacherous alone, but I still see it as a giant playground. I don't think I can help it. It's something in my blood. I see those mountain streams and giant boulders and all I want to do is jump out of the car and run through the woods, playing. I want to look at all the tiny flowers growing out of the moss, and run my fingers through the slime beneath the stream water. I feel more at home out in the woods, on a mountain, than I do anywhere else, and I'm content to just be left alone to wander out there. It's why I can run away from my friends while hiking and scale a boulder with no shoes, and still find my way back to them. It's why I take off running down little paths until it somehow leads me to a huge waterfall I didn't know was there. It's why I can sit in the middle of the shallow part of a river and just watch the minnows swim around my skirts like I'm just another rock.

I feel like this is some secret part of myself I'm sharing, but it's not really meant to be a secret. It just isn't something that many people have seen in me, and those who have just sort of shake their heads when I take off running. Bless Bob's heart, he understood somehow. Not in a kindred-spirit kind of way, but in a way that made him just run doggedly along after me until I stopped all of a sudden to listen to a bird or a frog somewhere off the path. He never spoke, and I never spoke, because I don't speak when I get out like that. I just have to run. It's in my bones. It's the one part of me I know will never have to grow up.

...which puts this lyric in my head, so I'll close with it.

If growing up means
It would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree,
I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up
Not me!