Students

So, I've been teaching these kids. These kids who are in this place that's not quite a juvie hall, but not quite a regular school, and definitely not prison. They've all got pasts, pasts that no kid in his teenaged years should have. But they do. And I'm there, with my buddies from the theatre, teaching them about Macbeth. About actions, about thoughts, about consequences, about humanity. I hope. And these kids get it. They really do. They see the cycles of violence. They see the violence of cycles. And, on a cellular level, they know what it means to literally go through hell. But the hard part is, knowing that they're just at this school for a bit. For a little while, for just enough time to "put a band-aid on" as the principal says, and then they go back out into the cold, cruel world. For most of them, that cold, cruel world is their own home. But while they're here, they get to learn about William Shakespeare. And about playwriting and acting. They get to watch a gaggle of four relatively-starving actors "do their stuff", and while we "do our stuff" we listen to them, we advise them, we write down their stories and put them together in a play that they then get to tell their whole school. So, I guess, we, like them, only have this little bit as well. We have this time, when we don't have to worry about our bills, about our cars in the repair shops, about our email or our long list of things we HAVE to do before we go off and do that other thing we HAVE to do so we can finally get to do what we WANT to do... We get to just be. With these kids. Listening. And watching. And just participating in a little day in the life. A day in theirs and in ours. A day. Where we GET to do this thing. This thing that is so very important to the spiritual survival of all of us: we get to bear witness to the suffering and joy of another. We get to remind them that they are not alone. And in doing that, we remind ourselves. We GET to do this thing.

Just Do It

So, I've been thinking... And that's a problem for me. I heard a good friend say once, "My brain is for entertainment purposes only!" And it seems to apply to me. When using my brain to think up stories or solve problems/blocks within my stories, or within my acting work, I'm good. I always seem to understand that idea that I need to get out of the way and let the "creative energy" do its work through me. I am the vehicle, not the fuel or even the engine for that matter. But when I start to use my brain to analyze my life? Katie, bar the door. Seriously, it's a problem. Because my brain is DESIGNED to create stories. So it does just that. When someone doesn't text me back INSTANTLY, I make up a story that they hate me, or that I need to do something nice for them so they'll like me MORE, or that they're just a jerk and I need to cut them out of my life completely. But really. There's no story. It's just an event that's happening in the world. And, most importantly, it's not happening TO me, it's just happening. Because really? Really someone doesn't text me back INSTANTLY because there's some enormous moral failing on either my part or their part? Seriously? This is where I remind myself of my ability to "get out of the way" in my creative work. What if I just "get out of the way" of my life? What if I just do what's in front of me and let whatever happens happens? What if everything that happens in the world is not about ME? Scary thought. But not a scary action. It's just that. An action. Just do it. Or in the case of believing I should send a snotty text back to that "non-instantly-texting-me-back" friend... Just Don't Do It.

So, it's cold here in Los Angeles. And I know all you Chicagoans are saying to yourselves: "Cold? You don't know cold, girl!" But here's the thing. Back in Chicago, buildings have a little something called "heat". It's a fairly remarkable invention, whereby, when it's cold outside, one does NOT have to wear a scarf in one's home. Unless of course it's for fashion's sake. But, seriously, who are those people? There's also this extraordinary thing called "insulation". So, while, yes, Chicago is COLD on the outside, once one goes inside...well, one can practically grow bananas in February. But here in the ridiculousness that is L.A. weather, and the absurdity that is the California Construction Code, one finds oneself having to visit the chiropractor on a more regular basis because one is spending one's time with one's shoulders at one's ears because IT'S REALLY COLD! I am, of course, reminded of those who have no power or water or home at all right now out on the East Coast, and so having to sit under three blankets and wear gloves and a hat in my house really doesn't seem that awful to bear. I guess it's just there's still a piece of me that holds on to that image I had of my life in Los Angeles when I first was driving across the county: it was all mimosas on the veranda, strappy sandles on the beach, convertibles in the driveway... Because really it's just reheated catering gig java in a theatre mug, snoopy slippers over thermal socks in the kitchen washing dishes, and my CRV is still full of bags for goodwill in the leaky garage. However, it is a small price to pay for roses blooming all year round. Oh, and I don't have a shovel and an ice-scraper in my car any more... Eat it, Chicago!

A New Day. Again. So, it's been awhile. And I've been busy. Seriously. My desperate need to over-commit myself to make sure that everyone loves me ENOUGH, really went into overdrive this past year. That being said: I've gotten a lot done. That being said: I'm pretty tired. That being said: I suddenly have the opportunity to relax a bit while finishing up all these pesky deadlines that I have. Why, may you ask? Well, it's pretty easy when God says, in the form of your supervisor at your dayjob, "You won't be working here anymore." That's right. After eight years at that legal publishing firm, I've been "released" into the world. Now, I've had a break before, after my nasty car accident several years ago. But that wasn't really a break, more of a "see how well I can manage pain on a daily basis" kind of thing, but this...it's as if I've been readying myself for this. I have lots to do. Lots I want to do. The capacity to do what I want to do. The tools I need to be patient while I continue to ask myself, "Self, what do you want to do?" Really, I don't know what's going on. But I do have things in front of me to do. So I'm going to do those. And then take some time to see what's in store. I recently read something somewhere that said that along with whatever desire is planted deep within us, is the guiding force to tell us where to go and what to do in order to achieve that desire. So, I'm taking some time to listen today. And tomorrow... Time. I have some of that now. It's wicked nice. And don't worry those of you who I owe a screenplay or a treatment to. It's coming!

Broken Bones

So, just got the word...

My brother's had ANOTHER cycling accident. Something like four years to the date, my brother, once again, cycling down in Florida, goes down on his bike. And he is an excellent cyclist, neither accident was his fault. So, clearly, he should be thinking about avoiding Florida in the future.

Stay in Chicago! That's what we all say, don't we?

Anyway, so he's just gotten out of surgery for a compound fracture of his femur, and while he's doing well, he's now going to have to deal with the stigma of setting off every single metal detecter at every airport from now until forever.

I supposed there are worse things. Like a head injury or a spine injury...or just not having any legs to break in the first place, but still...

How grateful am I today that I have, not only two working legs, but a phone (two in fact) with which I can call my mother and let her know I love her, as well as send my sister-in-law texts with funny phrases and jokes (Monty Python's a favorite) to ease her undoubtedly frazzled disbelieving brain.

And, when the time comes, and my brother's had a sufficient amount of valium, I will call him and listen and love and make fun of him just a little bit for being in Florida. Again.

Round and round we go, where it stops, or crashes, nobody knows.

A

The Malcontent

So, I'm doing this play, and by "doing" I mean acting not writing. I understand there has been confusion before on that front. Anyway, I'm in rehearsals and we're basically just sitting around a table working out what everything means, what's going on in the plot, etc. And these sessions, for those of you that don't know, can take HOURS, especially when trying to dissect a Jacobean piece such as this one. It was confusing back in the day, so 400 years later, one can only imagine...

But I'm sitting listening to the script and to everyone talk about what this and that means, and tossing back and forth ideas about how to make everything clear to the audience, how to best communicate the characters' journeys and arcs, and it occurs to me, there here we all are. Just sitting in a room, talking about a play and its performance, and everyone, and I mean, everyone, has the same goal.

Through all our different perceptions and methods, in the midst of all our different histories and biases, the solution that we're looking for is the same. A story told well. And it occurs to me, that when a gaggle of people are in the middle of that search, they are at their finest. Despite the arguments and challenges and tempers, when seeking a common outcome, a common solution, all our crazy individual silliness suddenly has a purpose.

A group of people, sharing their thoughts, their true selves, in order to make something of beauty...well, it seems to me, that's a situation where you'd have to work really hard to be...a malcontent.

See what I did there? We open early May. Check out the website, www.antaeus.org

More to come...
A

Here We Go Again

So, I'm in between shows. Again. Although, not really. As the last one just closed two Sundays ago, and this next one starts...ugh, tomorrow. Not ugh, just...argh. No. Not argh, just...wow. Seriously. Wow.

When did I get this busy? It seems like I've always been this busy. I remember wishing I had a day planner when I was in 3rd Grade. But it has occurred to me perhaps I LIKE to be this busy. If I did actually find some acceptance of that fact, perhaps I might actually be able to NOT constantly berate myself for "being so busy"!

Because, seriously, I love participating, I love being a part of, I love meeting new people who do what I do. And, seriously, you just never know. What's going to happen when you walk into a new place. When you go from playing Barack Obama's Mother in a one-woman show, to playing Maria, the banished Duke's wife who only appears in Act V of a Jacobean Comedy in a cast of many...

You just never know. And I don't want to. No spoiler alerts for this grateful lady. So, off to the first rehearsal of The Malcontent with Antaeus tomorrow night. And in between that and the dayjob...did I mention I'm finishing up a screenplay? Sigh...