There is something beautiful about someone that hits the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Maybe it's awful (first-hand) to swing through life in that manner, but it's also how to experience all that the process of living can offer. Cue Sylvia Plath.
I read The Bell Jar in late elementary school (before I quite understood the subject matter, though I made it my goal to explore all the same), and most recently revisited the Unabridged Journals as I tried to make my way through a new duet I'm creating for Secrets & Motion. The duet transpires between two female dancers/characters with a very complicated relationship. One has a secret that both know; the piece explores the brain space between the two and the mental decisions on how to reveal the secret, who reveals the secret and why. After developing the initial concept I looked to Plath as I remembered a seed of authenticity in the following quote:
“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
No, this quote doesn't donate subject matter to the duet in its action words, but more in its honest coinciding duality. It depicts a quick moment of realization as words are tumbling out into a waiting ear, the very human quick change of opinion when it feels like you can't turn back for (self) fear of contradiction.
I began the rehearsal process with improv based on having my female dancers take turns restricting their bodies to face away from the audience. That became stale in the duration of one rehearsal. Fortunately (at the same time as I was rereading the Plath Journals) Luminarium was invited to a 'musing' (sort of an open rehearsal) with our dear friends at Monkeyhouse, where I presented the main ideas behind this piece as an experimental movement exercise. The movers paired up and each duo magically found a different way to express the duet relationship. Some used parallel movements, some translated their partner through pedestrian gestures, some brought in vocally-made sound and breath, some went in two separate directions! How wonderful it is to have such resources... Combine an array of Monkeyhouse/Luminarium explorations in movement with a reread of word-inspiration and I was ready to face rehearsals once more.
I won't keep elaborating on the rehearsal process, since we are only two weeks out from the show (come!) but I will speak on a few deliberate choices I've made. I've decided not to painstakingly explain the relationship between the dancers. This means that lots of audience members will approach me after the show eager to share their theories on the two being lovers, enemies, etc etc etc. It is what it is, but it's also increasingly harder for two females to dance together onstage without a label of any sort! I've also decided not to overly share the plot with the audience. Yes, there is a secret that is dangerously on the verge of being shared against ones will, but is it for her own good? Is the share instead catty and destructive? To harm or to help? Either way is it right? The true embodiment of Facebook's "it's complicated" status (yep, I went there). Sorry audience members, perhaps there aren't right answers or perhaps you are resolute in your solution to the danced plot... but I promise you'll be ok, even without my clarification.
--
To end, here are some quotes from the Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath that are either great reading, or that freak me out as they are intensely similar to my own life and ways of living it... The similarities will end, however, before my head ends up in an oven.
I promise...
"Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning. ...
I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me. My love's not impersonal yet not wholly subjective either. I would like to be everyone, a cripple, a dying man, a whore, and then come back to write about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person. But I am not omniscent. I have to live my life, and it is the only one I'll ever have. And you cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time...
I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and critiicizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn; this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love. ...
I want to write because I have the urge to excel in one medium of translation and expression of life. I can't be satisfied with the colossal job of merely living. Oh no, I must order life in sonnets and sestinas and provide a verbal reflector for my 60-watt lighted head."
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Saturday, June 2, 2012
life got twist-turned upside down
Note: 2 am post after a draining week means run-on/repetitive sentences, grammar awfulness and typos. Since this is obviously my blog, I don't really give a crap.
Silly me, last October, thinking that despite sadness it would be nice not spending weekends in hospitals/rehab centers for many more years. My mistake, life.
Now I get to learn alllllll about strokes and symptoms of damage, and enlarged hearts, and so many fun things that can take someone's life and make it unrecognizable in less than an hour. I also get to jump into the fun game of finding balance between built up years of hurt/frustration/anger/blame, more contemporary years of neutral disregard, and then the most recent renegade feelings of fright/sympathy/caring, and then applying them to this situation. I don't really think anyone deserves getting such a demotion from functional human being to weak broken dependent... and yet I've observed a 20 year old college student at MHC go through a stroke, two octogenarians go through it (one surviving two strokes, one not so lucky), and now my 57 year old dad, who was a menacing 6 foot plus strong guy with a brash loud voice with a twinge of Bahston accent (brought out more in large male-heavy groups). Now he is limply hanging out in a hospital bed making baby-sentences and looking bleary eyed. What the fuck. I'm a firm believer in OT/PT working some magic, but let's be honest, no one ever gets back to 100% from this low point. At the same time, this is obviously not a death sentence. It's just seeming to be a quality of life sentence, and that freaks me out as someone who makes an effort to take advantage of the many ridiculous adventurous and enjoyable things I can do in a day (week/month/year).
What is very weird is watching my mom bravely commandeer the situation, whatever personal feelings she has set aside, to try to figure out the future before it's too late to hold on to the everyday life she has created and enjoys. My dad makes a lot of money but his union job, wildly enough, doesn't give him any sick or vacation days- meaning it's a good thing he has a very specialized skill set without a lot of competition, otherwise he could easily be let go/laid off. However, while his job is fairly safe in the present, he doesn't get paid while he recovers, and he needs to hit a certain number of hours per year to keep his (my mom's/jenn's) health insurance. Now my mom needs to figure out how to take the lifestyle of $xxxk, and make it work on just her income, until my dad can magically go back to work. No wonder you see all those ridiculous commercials with old people griping about how they broke a hip, lost their house, and now are thousands of dollars in debt and have no way to finance their funeral expenses (this is a bit of an infomercial merge, sure). The strange part of this is that financially, with the threat of job loss/health insurance loss/crazy medical bills, this major life event doesn't affect me. I am an independent adult with my own mortgage and job and bills, and yet the empathy I am feeling translates to me wanting to shoulder some of this scary impending crisis, to be a part of whatever awful medical/financial snafu lands upon my parents. Who wishes for this?!
Through my late teen/young adult years I found (and still find) myself making mental note of everything my parents have done for me; from shouldering the majority of my 200k college education, to helping renovate my house weekend after weekend, bailing me out of sticky situations...the list goes on. I've constantly recognized how lucky/fortunate I am, and how some day, way down the road, I would have the opportunity to pay these favors back. Who would have guessed that time would come so soon...
Silly me, last October, thinking that despite sadness it would be nice not spending weekends in hospitals/rehab centers for many more years. My mistake, life.
Now I get to learn alllllll about strokes and symptoms of damage, and enlarged hearts, and so many fun things that can take someone's life and make it unrecognizable in less than an hour. I also get to jump into the fun game of finding balance between built up years of hurt/frustration/anger/blame, more contemporary years of neutral disregard, and then the most recent renegade feelings of fright/sympathy/caring, and then applying them to this situation. I don't really think anyone deserves getting such a demotion from functional human being to weak broken dependent... and yet I've observed a 20 year old college student at MHC go through a stroke, two octogenarians go through it (one surviving two strokes, one not so lucky), and now my 57 year old dad, who was a menacing 6 foot plus strong guy with a brash loud voice with a twinge of Bahston accent (brought out more in large male-heavy groups). Now he is limply hanging out in a hospital bed making baby-sentences and looking bleary eyed. What the fuck. I'm a firm believer in OT/PT working some magic, but let's be honest, no one ever gets back to 100% from this low point. At the same time, this is obviously not a death sentence. It's just seeming to be a quality of life sentence, and that freaks me out as someone who makes an effort to take advantage of the many ridiculous adventurous and enjoyable things I can do in a day (week/month/year).
What is very weird is watching my mom bravely commandeer the situation, whatever personal feelings she has set aside, to try to figure out the future before it's too late to hold on to the everyday life she has created and enjoys. My dad makes a lot of money but his union job, wildly enough, doesn't give him any sick or vacation days- meaning it's a good thing he has a very specialized skill set without a lot of competition, otherwise he could easily be let go/laid off. However, while his job is fairly safe in the present, he doesn't get paid while he recovers, and he needs to hit a certain number of hours per year to keep his (my mom's/jenn's) health insurance. Now my mom needs to figure out how to take the lifestyle of $xxxk, and make it work on just her income, until my dad can magically go back to work. No wonder you see all those ridiculous commercials with old people griping about how they broke a hip, lost their house, and now are thousands of dollars in debt and have no way to finance their funeral expenses (this is a bit of an infomercial merge, sure). The strange part of this is that financially, with the threat of job loss/health insurance loss/crazy medical bills, this major life event doesn't affect me. I am an independent adult with my own mortgage and job and bills, and yet the empathy I am feeling translates to me wanting to shoulder some of this scary impending crisis, to be a part of whatever awful medical/financial snafu lands upon my parents. Who wishes for this?!
Through my late teen/young adult years I found (and still find) myself making mental note of everything my parents have done for me; from shouldering the majority of my 200k college education, to helping renovate my house weekend after weekend, bailing me out of sticky situations...the list goes on. I've constantly recognized how lucky/fortunate I am, and how some day, way down the road, I would have the opportunity to pay these favors back. Who would have guessed that time would come so soon...
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
static or stagnant
Think of something you want to do more than anything else in the whole world, even if it is indulgent, selfish or destructive, and DO it. If not now, at this point in life, when well you ever try? You don't have to try this form of impulsive decision making more than once, but it's bound to either be fantastic and exhilarating, or a total disaster/life lesson.
I guess this is semi-contradictory to my 'try-everything-twice-no-exceptions' philosophy. Then again, I firmly believe in that, too. If you are a try-everything-once person how do you know that the one time you experienced something wasn't out of the norm? Also, yes, you should try EVERYTHING. Minus murder, or a serious crime, I suppose.
So many people are living sedentary, routine, by-the-schedule lives. It freaks me out. Maybe people can be happy living the exact same day or exact same weekend for their entire adult lives, but how is this satisfying? One of my friends (condensed version) once stated life was basically work hard, make money, retire and travel and live out the rest of your days. Whaaaat? What about right now, what about tomorrow? What did you do this very day that was fun or new or exciting? Everyday should contain something novel, some little nugget of great. It's not too late for today, FYI. Go lie outside in the rain until you are soaked, or moon your neighbor, or smash an egg with your bare hands, or put on great music and dance ridiculously. Extra points for all of the above.
I like to think my life experience is like an amoeba, and everyday i make it grow/expand outwards a tiny bit more. Who is going to die someday with the biggest amoeba?
Thennnnnn because it's rainy and I'm feeling a bit contemplative, maybe there are people that just want to have a little amoeba and are happy and comfortable with the limited amount of whatever it is in their tiny collection of experience. Same breakfast, same job, same tv shows, same bed time. Huh. If YOU, reader (or lack of reader haha) are one of these little bubble people I would like to question you relentlessly, sign up now, or run away quick!
I guess this is semi-contradictory to my 'try-everything-twice-no-exceptions' philosophy. Then again, I firmly believe in that, too. If you are a try-everything-once person how do you know that the one time you experienced something wasn't out of the norm? Also, yes, you should try EVERYTHING. Minus murder, or a serious crime, I suppose.
So many people are living sedentary, routine, by-the-schedule lives. It freaks me out. Maybe people can be happy living the exact same day or exact same weekend for their entire adult lives, but how is this satisfying? One of my friends (condensed version) once stated life was basically work hard, make money, retire and travel and live out the rest of your days. Whaaaat? What about right now, what about tomorrow? What did you do this very day that was fun or new or exciting? Everyday should contain something novel, some little nugget of great. It's not too late for today, FYI. Go lie outside in the rain until you are soaked, or moon your neighbor, or smash an egg with your bare hands, or put on great music and dance ridiculously. Extra points for all of the above.
I like to think my life experience is like an amoeba, and everyday i make it grow/expand outwards a tiny bit more. Who is going to die someday with the biggest amoeba?
Thennnnnn because it's rainy and I'm feeling a bit contemplative, maybe there are people that just want to have a little amoeba and are happy and comfortable with the limited amount of whatever it is in their tiny collection of experience. Same breakfast, same job, same tv shows, same bed time. Huh. If YOU, reader (or lack of reader haha) are one of these little bubble people I would like to question you relentlessly, sign up now, or run away quick!
Friday, March 23, 2012
thursday #1212
Yup, that's right. This is the 1212th Thursday of my life.
Actually it's probably not right, my notorious math skills have most likely led my answer astray.
There is also no real news for today, besides last night I slept on my back for the first time ever. I can't remember what inspired this choice.
MAD MEN. Sunday. So excited. After approximately 2 false alarms as to the date of its return, I can safely say I will be tuned in on Sunday. Only thing that could be better would be to be in Mad Men... either the show or in real life... but only as someone awesome like Joan or Peggy (or a girl Don Draper/Roger Sterling)- no suburban housewifery, please. The Menkens department store lady (Rachel?) is pretty kickass too... beats Don Draper at his own game. Bam.
Aaaaand now I will stop procrastinating sleep; at least after I go take a long bath :)
Actually it's probably not right, my notorious math skills have most likely led my answer astray.
There is also no real news for today, besides last night I slept on my back for the first time ever. I can't remember what inspired this choice.
MAD MEN. Sunday. So excited. After approximately 2 false alarms as to the date of its return, I can safely say I will be tuned in on Sunday. Only thing that could be better would be to be in Mad Men... either the show or in real life... but only as someone awesome like Joan or Peggy (or a girl Don Draper/Roger Sterling)- no suburban housewifery, please. The Menkens department store lady (Rachel?) is pretty kickass too... beats Don Draper at his own game. Bam.
Aaaaand now I will stop procrastinating sleep; at least after I go take a long bath :)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
post-weekend whatever.
This weekend was a weird emotion sandwich. I stayed home from Tobin on Friday, mainly because I hadn't cried yet and was nervous about when it would strike... I didn't want to break down at work. I distracted myself with crazy cleaning, packing for Fringe, shopping, caffeinating... and the like.
Saturday and Sunday were amazing. While Merli summed it up so wonderfully, I won't recap- but check out her narrative of the weekend. It was full of art, silliness, support, AMAZING weather, and lots of love and fun. Sidenote: I am not destined to be a pool shark, but I plan on practicing, perhaps improving my game beyond default wins and unintentional trick shots... Stayed up until like 5am with Christin/Merli/Mark/Matt, and then even later with Merli (more chatting and then jumping into and on our beds). I have such a great dance company/family, this has grown into something beyond dancers and choreographers and I am lucky.
My mom/Jenn/Christos came to the show on Sunday. I knew I was inevitably going to break down when I saw them, as I hadn't seen any of my family members since I got the news, so I made them come in early. Weirdly I didn't totally lose it until they left to go get dinner, and I found myself grieving inside a temple. Go figure. Good thing for the dark shades, even though I looked like a jerk walking around with them on. Alan wouldn't have liked my outward display of emotion.... Just like he didn't like, oh, everything?
I showed my new piece twice this weekend, of course with Merli's fun new piece and other greatest-hits too, and it was received as I hoped it would be. While our performance spaces were nutty and backwards and disorganized, the show went well on both nights. The experience made me even more excited to show it in November (4-5, 8 pm, green st studios) in a dark and deep theatre space. I'm nervous for Mobius on Oct 21, as I just found out its a very skinny and longish space. We'll see...
While I want to get down to discussing my new work in a blog post, I don't have the time to do it justice. Keep your eyes peeled. What I will say now, is that it depends so majorly on the dancers (what is emotionally portrayed or restrained, and their connections) and their performance quality made some serious magic happen on Sunday night. I remember sitting in the dark with my silly clamp light in my lap, watching and lighting, tears flowing down my face, and trying both suavely and frantically to wipe them away as the dancers got close to the downstage region, so they wouldn't see me awkwardly in the darkness.
I absolutely love being a creator, wouldn't ever ever want it any other way. I am very grateful that I was able to take a big risk, that I have a great partner, and that there are so many supporters that are making our org flourish.
So now we are in a new week...
Monday I crashed, cried, enjoyed my puppy and the weather, and regained my composure.
Yesterday I went to work, and had one of the first successes I've had in the arts at Tobin. The kids have been a hard sell on performing mediums, but I had a good sized group of girls trust me enough to do some theatre, and they had a great time. At the end of the day I got word of some interest in dance...
This week is grant-mania. Merli and I have 5 grants due this week, and a CRAZY project in mind. Wish us luck... We also have a bunch due over November and December. While we only have a year behind our belts, it was such a solid year. 2 self-produced performances, a statewide tour, invitations to perform in multiple fundraisers and festivals, a Boston Center for the Arts performance, invite to be guest lecturers at a MHC arts talk, a gala, a community outreach project... now a Mobius performance next week. We have no intention on losing momentum!
So that's life.... and non-life.
Saturday and Sunday were amazing. While Merli summed it up so wonderfully, I won't recap- but check out her narrative of the weekend. It was full of art, silliness, support, AMAZING weather, and lots of love and fun. Sidenote: I am not destined to be a pool shark, but I plan on practicing, perhaps improving my game beyond default wins and unintentional trick shots... Stayed up until like 5am with Christin/Merli/Mark/Matt, and then even later with Merli (more chatting and then jumping into and on our beds). I have such a great dance company/family, this has grown into something beyond dancers and choreographers and I am lucky.
My mom/Jenn/Christos came to the show on Sunday. I knew I was inevitably going to break down when I saw them, as I hadn't seen any of my family members since I got the news, so I made them come in early. Weirdly I didn't totally lose it until they left to go get dinner, and I found myself grieving inside a temple. Go figure. Good thing for the dark shades, even though I looked like a jerk walking around with them on. Alan wouldn't have liked my outward display of emotion.... Just like he didn't like, oh, everything?
I showed my new piece twice this weekend, of course with Merli's fun new piece and other greatest-hits too, and it was received as I hoped it would be. While our performance spaces were nutty and backwards and disorganized, the show went well on both nights. The experience made me even more excited to show it in November (4-5, 8 pm, green st studios) in a dark and deep theatre space. I'm nervous for Mobius on Oct 21, as I just found out its a very skinny and longish space. We'll see...
While I want to get down to discussing my new work in a blog post, I don't have the time to do it justice. Keep your eyes peeled. What I will say now, is that it depends so majorly on the dancers (what is emotionally portrayed or restrained, and their connections) and their performance quality made some serious magic happen on Sunday night. I remember sitting in the dark with my silly clamp light in my lap, watching and lighting, tears flowing down my face, and trying both suavely and frantically to wipe them away as the dancers got close to the downstage region, so they wouldn't see me awkwardly in the darkness.
I absolutely love being a creator, wouldn't ever ever want it any other way. I am very grateful that I was able to take a big risk, that I have a great partner, and that there are so many supporters that are making our org flourish.
So now we are in a new week...
Monday I crashed, cried, enjoyed my puppy and the weather, and regained my composure.
Yesterday I went to work, and had one of the first successes I've had in the arts at Tobin. The kids have been a hard sell on performing mediums, but I had a good sized group of girls trust me enough to do some theatre, and they had a great time. At the end of the day I got word of some interest in dance...
This week is grant-mania. Merli and I have 5 grants due this week, and a CRAZY project in mind. Wish us luck... We also have a bunch due over November and December. While we only have a year behind our belts, it was such a solid year. 2 self-produced performances, a statewide tour, invitations to perform in multiple fundraisers and festivals, a Boston Center for the Arts performance, invite to be guest lecturers at a MHC arts talk, a gala, a community outreach project... now a Mobius performance next week. We have no intention on losing momentum!
So that's life.... and non-life.
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