tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12563363325881267442024-01-29T16:03:50.000-08:00Tara VarneyThinky Thoughts of a Theaterist Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-7736092603438983722021-08-21T13:29:00.001-07:002021-08-21T13:29:14.341-07:00Meeting Students During COVID, or "Don't I know (part of) you?"<p>School started this week. We are back in the building, full-time, for the first time since COVID bit us in the butt in March of 2020. Seventeen months, almost to the day. Which makes this the third school year that has been butchered by the pandemic. </p><p>I'm not going to go into the horrors of teaching via Zoom. That topic has been beaten to death, and even I can't handle another freaking article about 384 WAYS TO ENGAGE STUDENTS ONLINE or TEACHERS NEED TO PRACTICE SELF-CARE, EVEN THOUGH TEACHING ONLINE TAKES UP 30 HOURS EACH DAY, with a bunch of completely unrealistic, even infuriating, "tips" that really only give you even more to do between crying jags.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2tuMC2Hw5CNQQgVv0Q1EtynEzAAORUTgDXbReG7NYxqRmYKq7jP4BuHrxWrZvgb_eQYjar2Y6bf6Hplj7NgFpotL_8XyzIqOKNl3dsRYm80fSmtdcEeKic0w6LQsiuHGX0F0yzS8nOY//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="708" height="381" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu2tuMC2Hw5CNQQgVv0Q1EtynEzAAORUTgDXbReG7NYxqRmYKq7jP4BuHrxWrZvgb_eQYjar2Y6bf6Hplj7NgFpotL_8XyzIqOKNl3dsRYm80fSmtdcEeKic0w6LQsiuHGX0F0yzS8nOY/w528-h381/image.png" width="528" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Just this graphic is enough to send me over the edge, even without the Comic Sans.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p>Neither am I going to broach the topic of teaching in Covidland, with the landmines of distancing and mask-policing, the differences between Delta symptoms and allergies, the uselessness of taking temperatures at the building entrance and of not sharing pencils.</p><p>So... I got vaccinated as soon as I could find an appointment, March 7, 2021. This turned out to be about a month before we returned to school.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUkFpt6vEvFLOaucY14eMQ6WyuQIfZfGEoSjmAKrl8-N03QbLbO-74m2UUBTHu-MHHuwOCzSx59Lhz-t3nuLDyUJsjlv3sT0F5RWLN94t9lmDDbT1XCaueCWt-MlhKPFa6wgrV8BMsNo/s2048/Vax+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOUkFpt6vEvFLOaucY14eMQ6WyuQIfZfGEoSjmAKrl8-N03QbLbO-74m2UUBTHu-MHHuwOCzSx59Lhz-t3nuLDyUJsjlv3sT0F5RWLN94t9lmDDbT1XCaueCWt-MlhKPFa6wgrV8BMsNo/w300-h400/Vax+card.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One and done, baybee!</td></tr></tbody></table><p>We returned to the building in April of 2021, just over a full year after we left. We'd spent August 2020 through March 2021 online. (Actually, some of us spent June through March online, offering fun and/or useful summer "classes" via Zoom, because we were trying to keep the kids in touch with other humans.) When we came back to the building, of course, school did not vaguely resemble normalcy. Some students did not, for various reasons, join us in the building, and we spent the rest of the school year navigating "synchronous" learning (some students in person and some online, at the same time), which was even more difficult than completely virtual.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nZG5GErm9mVJmj_wM3P85Iuf_Thx3yoB8HQdrMxRuaTh2iibYQGYLDZdOLB3NcsbB-Ic1Z9i062W-OiBkrROlwiJLA6TB0PJ33fhEDYZ5qRZXB0UFcXrB4BDwoFu6oznpZUo3uorzr0/s2048/PXL_20210405_173810700%257E2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1590" data-original-width="2048" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nZG5GErm9mVJmj_wM3P85Iuf_Thx3yoB8HQdrMxRuaTh2iibYQGYLDZdOLB3NcsbB-Ic1Z9i062W-OiBkrROlwiJLA6TB0PJ33fhEDYZ5qRZXB0UFcXrB4BDwoFu6oznpZUo3uorzr0/w378-h293/PXL_20210405_173810700%257E2.jpg" width="378" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some students are in the room, some are Zooming in, <br />and teachers are holding fistfuls of their own hair while screaming into the void.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p>When Coterie Theatre classes moved online in 2020, with everyone else's, I had already been teaching online for months. It was exhausting, emotionally and mentally, so I told my beloved Education Director, Amanda, that I simply couldn't face doing more of it. She was sympathetic, and I ended up taking the summer off, for the first time ever. Of course, we had no idea that online teaching would become the norm, into the fall and so far, far beyond. </p><p>But this year, I'd been vaccinated, and so I agreed to teach in person this summer. Maybe I had some idea, when I first accepted the class offers, months before they were to start, that we would be able to go sans masks. I'll chalk it up to being optimistic, I guess. Maybe naïve is closer to the truth. </p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c-HABKo-4zz6g-NvtMlDlFMMtyCytSUFmGGxn4sAQQq9tbua0BwVxjupR-4ORPydrQSOhkTKMkt45ol8k4vOEd-rM9OZwoEj4sxosiMKmf2fUVCyIP3zwXEykcGdhWy-wzwdyOpeX54//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="620" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2c-HABKo-4zz6g-NvtMlDlFMMtyCytSUFmGGxn4sAQQq9tbua0BwVxjupR-4ORPydrQSOhkTKMkt45ol8k4vOEd-rM9OZwoEj4sxosiMKmf2fUVCyIP3zwXEykcGdhWy-wzwdyOpeX54/w356-h267/image.png" width="356" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not saying that elephants are the only ones, or that no elephants pay heed to scientists, <br />but there does seem to be a pattern.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>Every week, a new class started, at a different satellite location, with different students, who were every age between 5 and 18. All of them, masked.</p><p>And this is the point of this post: I didn't know what my students looked like. When they took off their masks for a brief snack break, I was always a little surprised. I realized that I'd mentally filled in their appearance, above their necks and below their eyes, and they didn't actually look like what I'd imagined.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDe3kylT7HEY7A1uCoYQ-FwRP_7xKtAA_dWDHO0FoAQ9xhK_JNbOvGTZf-lC2zU9SbQE19KQpAlJPwplfX4BsfPvmnlL95MHZlPDKlYJgFtKnVqsjWQPuNQr6oTBR58Pi9DrNdMcx5IM//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDe3kylT7HEY7A1uCoYQ-FwRP_7xKtAA_dWDHO0FoAQ9xhK_JNbOvGTZf-lC2zU9SbQE19KQpAlJPwplfX4BsfPvmnlL95MHZlPDKlYJgFtKnVqsjWQPuNQr6oTBR58Pi9DrNdMcx5IM/w383-h255/image.png" width="383" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, the lower half of your face is that of a wolf?<br />Well, that will help me when I run into you at the store, post-COVID</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><p></p><p>As I pondered this, I thought back to last fall, when we had new students at school, and I'd met them on Zoom. I <i>only </i>knew their faces. It didn't occur to me that this would pose any kind of problem, but then we had an outdoor, masked social gathering for the whole school. Suddenly, I knew no one, because the only thing I'd known them by, their faces, were the only things that I could no longer rely on for identification. What made it worse, of course, was that so many students were adverse to turning their cameras on during class, so they could identify me, but I could not reciprocate. It became a joke as we parted: "Nice seeing how tall you are!"</p><p>Other staff and faculty members were experiencing the same thing, and we were all asking each other who that student, over there, was. I had to rely on things like their taste in jewelry and their hair color - which, if you know anyone of this age, you know the likelihood of their hair remaining the same color for more than a week is pretty slim.</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tH3bM22ur6BWaWhlPbAssrsQRlIYjB5qH8oTwxf8EeAe70C1jrgmT0Cv79AgREH2IROgbNLmoalY_myOARn5VCOFnRHvvW7dS3E3CBJ1cWwQpTVsGtIrP0wkNWM0F3jI6e-o29qlQ_s//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="225" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tH3bM22ur6BWaWhlPbAssrsQRlIYjB5qH8oTwxf8EeAe70C1jrgmT0Cv79AgREH2IROgbNLmoalY_myOARn5VCOFnRHvvW7dS3E3CBJ1cWwQpTVsGtIrP0wkNWM0F3jI6e-o29qlQ_s//" width="180" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But you have to be Marnie, your hair is pink!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>And now, here we are, at the beginning of the third COVID-smashed school year. We have many new students at school, and they are all masked. On Day One, I already had a hard time in one class, differentiating between three girls with straight, blonde hair.</p><p>This time, at least, I'll be able to use their height and mode of dress as identifiers. If we are ever able to be safe from COVID without masks - a possibility that seems more remote with each passing day - that will be helpful.</p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfVUUHwaHW__eLpIHKC7-feagqeHe23imgTTDW6a3uRrSdUPzAm7ybp1xZwjsShhlbr4Qgl8J4XmrS8F9ayUvqnN6JzVsPTnSO3f5qWJH7NPmzatUvbMyhFZ3RGPdtypsKX3gL_ScH8Q//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkfVUUHwaHW__eLpIHKC7-feagqeHe23imgTTDW6a3uRrSdUPzAm7ybp1xZwjsShhlbr4Qgl8J4XmrS8F9ayUvqnN6JzVsPTnSO3f5qWJH7NPmzatUvbMyhFZ3RGPdtypsKX3gL_ScH8Q//" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Are you sure you live here? Can you show me some identifying birthmarks or scars?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-22705703091080180212021-01-18T09:02:00.003-08:002021-01-19T08:14:21.279-08:00(Fill in the blank)ING IN THE TIME OF (fill in the blank)<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipd2URI0rU0Apsw_ST5bkcBkjOJJKEqkvKn7p4f1ERx7DiS1IRlXXd4xv2A83-C233IyYKmlEllsXu5eG28nmCSCzURNdSTFFXu9PeLpwPHWnqSbeoVC391omvoPLeqFrzIPKZVhVUMgc/s2048/2020-09-09+13.02.59.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="723" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipd2URI0rU0Apsw_ST5bkcBkjOJJKEqkvKn7p4f1ERx7DiS1IRlXXd4xv2A83-C233IyYKmlEllsXu5eG28nmCSCzURNdSTFFXu9PeLpwPHWnqSbeoVC391omvoPLeqFrzIPKZVhVUMgc/w407-h723/2020-09-09+13.02.59.jpg" width="407" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"HERE IS GOOD": Social distancing in the theater</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p><p>This is going to be one of <i>those </i>posts<i>. </i>I hope it will also be more than that.</p><p>In March of last year, my school was about halfway through rehearsals for <i>It Can't Happen Here</i> (which I thought was important to present before the election), when we went on Spring Break and never came back. The novel coronavirus, known as CoVID-19, hit this country, and everything shut down. </p><p>At first, my school just extended Spring Break by a week. Then two. And teachers everywhere had to learn a new way of teaching, never being in the same room with our students, NOW. It was extremely stressful. I cried a lot.</p><p>Isolate at home. Social distance. Hand sanitizer. Face masks must cover both your nose and mouth. No bandanas or gaiters, those aren't the same as face masks. Hand sanitizer. Wear latex gloves when you go out. Wipe down your groceries with anti-bacterial spray when you get home from the store. Hand sanitizer shortages. Toilet paper shortages? Essential workers. No restaurants, bars, gyms, concerts, movie theaters, weddings, funerals. Sanitize your hands after getting the mail, then let the mail sit for 24 hours before you open it. At least six feet apart from anyone you don't live with. No handshakes, no hugs, no pats on the back. Hand sanitizer. Droplets. Aerosols. No shouting. No singing.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFVlnYjDI7FIqzGTJI6RO3hmiiO6pANXHhVRoPLYWPBxhQsJitUqwNPhPwjeeuapGNw51-Z9PJegQVTbTY-b95TEWTgQRV30Jux0T5yknyepds1u_adBT7q9c-yFgbuo1prG0Mtu8dC4/s350/Margaret-Amen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="233" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiFVlnYjDI7FIqzGTJI6RO3hmiiO6pANXHhVRoPLYWPBxhQsJitUqwNPhPwjeeuapGNw51-Z9PJegQVTbTY-b95TEWTgQRV30Jux0T5yknyepds1u_adBT7q9c-yFgbuo1prG0Mtu8dC4/w261-h392/Margaret-Amen.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But shouting and singing are all I know how to do.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />Then school didn't come back into the building. I emailed the students in the cast and crew, canceling the show. I cried.</p><p>Broadway shut down indefinitely.</p><p>Teaching online proved to be far more exhausting than any of us realized. It became routine that, within an hour of my final class on Fridays, I was crying, and/or asleep.</p><p>As difficult as it was for me, I know it was harder on the students. We have an awesome school counselor who really emphasized the need to focus on the mental and emotional health of our students, as well as ourselves. Of course, parents were struggling too. Our world changed, practically overnight, and we were all navigating territory that we hadn't even imagined.</p><p>I went back to the school building in May, to pick up some materials and clean a few things out before summer... And everything was frozen in time. The rehearsal calendar was still on the callboard. There were costumes that we'd started to pull, still laid out in piles onstage. The backdrop had been chalked out, but would never be painted.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSv8jDLILIZsrN0sZZhEq8yHFBv4i7xE2r761gapxog8tRguf6AkJ4MLXARUPtAYY1HL00YMKcxqrYoH2HdFXW2biA73bGuSCrhZ-ewY-8TzBSIC-HmO2qBo15q1SYC2z5sOn_uKuV4k/s1600/20200512_114332.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsSv8jDLILIZsrN0sZZhEq8yHFBv4i7xE2r761gapxog8tRguf6AkJ4MLXARUPtAYY1HL00YMKcxqrYoH2HdFXW2biA73bGuSCrhZ-ewY-8TzBSIC-HmO2qBo15q1SYC2z5sOn_uKuV4k/w458-h344/20200512_114332.jpg" width="458" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hm. Red and blue costumes. It's not <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, <br />so I wonder what the color scheme of this play about <br />a revolution against a demagogue President could possibly indicate?</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><br /></p>I sat down in the empty theater and, as a surprise to absolutely no one, I cried.<p></p><p>Over the next few weeks, theaters closed down. Many, many friends, who were contracted for various summer shows, were suddenly out of work. We thought: hang on until fall. </p><p>I lost work too, as a teaching artist for The Coterie, a job I've cherished for over a decade. There's no teaching in person, and I couldn't handle anymore Distance Learning. The education director was very understanding, and I can't even imagine the pressure she was under.</p><p>The Kansas City Fringe Festival voted to go completely online. Bryan and I had been writing a play about the 19th Amendment, which was turning 100 years old in August. The way the play was structured, we decided, would not communicate well if it wasn't onstage. So, for the first time since 2008, we sat out.</p><p>Equity told union actors and stage managers that they were not allowed to work until further notice. No theater in the foreseeable future.</p><p>George Floyd was murdered, on video, by a grinning police officer. Black Lives Matter. So much police brutality toward peaceful protestors, all over the country. My niece was one of the countless who found herself in a cloud of tear gas.</p><p>A senior at school organized a #BLM protest, with help and support from faculty. About 75 people from our school community showed up, having wanted to participate with the larger protests, but frightened by CoVID, as well as police with flashbangs and tactical gear and tear gas and guns. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_eCuZGvY8LavDtuUynNWojYKVThPKZ0u6oBNRzvVzv_k6GJkRyGYVOPlJyQW1EnhcvTJqFCieuwQ-4VO66I5NLs2sO-W3Tyocpfct7VV0Zao_BXeKhr_94t6sWLrHXK2mg2mPpPfQT6Y/s2048/2020-06-06+12.31.46.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_eCuZGvY8LavDtuUynNWojYKVThPKZ0u6oBNRzvVzv_k6GJkRyGYVOPlJyQW1EnhcvTJqFCieuwQ-4VO66I5NLs2sO-W3Tyocpfct7VV0Zao_BXeKhr_94t6sWLrHXK2mg2mPpPfQT6Y/w491-h368/2020-06-06+12.31.46.jpg" width="491" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">KCA students walk the walk.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />My school tried many things to keep in contact with students and parents, to stay in touch with people who couldn't go anywhere, do anything, be with anyone. Some of us volunteered to teach online classes and one-off workshops through the rest of the summer. I taught History of the Marginalized, a class that I'd been proposing for years, a play-watching discussion group, and beginning crochet.</p><p>Bryan's grandmother died, but CoVID had already rendered funerals nearly impossible.</p><p>I spent the summer reading as many "monologue" plays as I could get my hands on, in an attempt to find one that we could do at school, with social distancing. </p><p>I realized that, in all my years as a theater professional, the fear of not having work was never because <i>there simply wasn't any.</i></p><p>I directed an online reading of the play Bryan and I had written for Fringe. It took way longer and was way more difficult than any of us realized when we started. Fortunately, the cast was brilliant and imaginative and brought so much to the project. But it was exhausting and it was not theater.</p><p>My mom got rushed to the emergency room, and admitted to the hospital. I couldn't visit her, because of CoVID. (She's okay now.)</p><p>School started again. Online. It's no easier than in the spring.</p><p>I submitted a document of seven possible scenarios for a theater production at school in the fall semester. Each scenario was exhaustively thought-out. The principal and I agreed on one, where there'd be no more than four actors, performing monologues, on any given night, and no more than 15 masked audience members. All actors would have their individual entrance/exit, so backstage would be distanced as well. For the first time, I insisted upon reservations, so we could separate groups by the minimum six feet. And so many other details. So many.</p><p>My mom had major surgery, but I couldn't visit her, because of CoVID. (She's recovered well.)</p><p>I held auditions for the school play. I made up a rehearsal schedule, so no more than three students were rehearsing at any given time. We all wore masks and distanced from each other.</p><p>My dad was taken to the emergency room, and admitted to the hospital, but I couldn't visit him, because of CoVID. (He's fine now.)</p><p>Rehearsals were only 60-90 minutes long; again, to limit our time together. Most people were only called to rehearse one a week, occasionally twice. It was incredibly hard to get any momentum going.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSb2ciM5fgeKL-ot0rS0Yv9RPwucjNZBysrZKBhxmp5RV_DfPyoIhXFsVvGgywtMnoUe6B0QHEPR-501_e66dF9ZTG3OuRctFdgS8U2CQZk4X5hUDkpFPEBG9sNHExqYFz6TjB07on0zY/s2048/20201107_134358.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSb2ciM5fgeKL-ot0rS0Yv9RPwucjNZBysrZKBhxmp5RV_DfPyoIhXFsVvGgywtMnoUe6B0QHEPR-501_e66dF9ZTG3OuRctFdgS8U2CQZk4X5hUDkpFPEBG9sNHExqYFz6TjB07on0zY/w452-h452/20201107_134358.jpg" width="452" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My god, how they tried, though!</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />I twice asked for help building the set, from one tech-knowledgeable student, whom I knew I could trust to focus and be safe. Another student and her mom came and started to organize the costume room, which desperately needed it. The rest of the time, it was me, alone. Often, crying. Because, as I tell my students, theater isn't meant to be done alone.</p><p>The presidential election. All elections, for me, are stressful. Presidential elections, almost overwhelmingly so. The anxiety surrounding this presidential election was nearly unbearable.</p><p>Then, it didn't end. The current President demanded recount after recount, and lawsuit after lawsuit, because he insisted, publicly and angrily, that he actually won. "By a landslide," in fact. The electoral college had voted 306 to 232, so there was no way. But still, he lied and shouted and insulted. Lawsuits were either lost or thrown out. He furiously claimed - "baselessly," as every news outlet agreed - that it was all a conspiracy against him, and he had been reelected. His followers got louder, and waved signs saying "Stop the Steal" of the election from their fearless (read: deranged and dangerous) leader.</p><p>Less than two weeks before we opened, a cast member's parent was diagnosed with CoVID. That meant, among other things, that student would have to quarantine for two weeks. So she couldn't do the show, and I had to rearrange the performances. That included checking with the other actors to make sure they could be there on different nights, and contacting folks with reservations to offer alternate performance nights.</p><p>But a few days later, we made the connection that second cast member had been to the first's house only two days before the diagnosis. (The parent has since recovered, by the way.) So she too had to quarantine for two weeks. What's more, she'd been to rehearsal twice since that visit, so everyone who had been to rehearsal with her had to quarantine, at least until she got her test results back. And that included me. Rehearsals had to be suspended.</p><p>It was less than a week before we were to open. </p><p>So, on Monday of production week, before test results were back for the second cast member, I made the horrible decision to cancel the show. Again. </p><p>I cried. A lot. I'm starting to cry right now, in fact, just thinking about it.</p><p>My dad had major surgery, but I couldn't visit him, because of CoVID. </p><p>I was so scared. At this point, it was most likely a cumulative effect. I mean, yeah, it was his heart, but also, just <i>everything.</i> It was only a couple of days before Thanksgiving. He was, incredibly, released the next day, feeling great.</p><p>Two of the cast members were moving out of state over winter break, so I hurriedly scheduled time with them to video their monologues. They had a hard time grasping why we had to do so many takes. I was suddenly teaching acting for the camera, but without time to actually teach it.</p><p>The CoVID vaccine was released. An unbelievable scientific achievement.... that the President has decided to take credit for.</p><p>Christmas was virtual. And with all families' Christmases being virtual, Christmas was also very short. </p><p>Despite over 300,000 American people dead of CoVID, many people still followed the President's early claim that it's a "Democratic hoax" that's "no worse than the flu." Wearing a protective face mask in public is an infringement of their personal rights, they continue to say.</p><p>New Year's Eve was virtual. The general feeling is 2020 was obviously cursed, so 2021 <i>had</i> to be better, right?</p><p>The Georgia run-off election. Control of the Senate was riding on it. The President continued to insult and lie about that too. </p><p>It was finalized the next day: both Democrats won. Before we could fully take it in, the outgoing President, who was holding a rally at the White House, again proclaimed, with absolute certainty, based in nothing that resembles reality, that reelection had been "stolen" from him, and set his vitriolic followers on a march to the Capitol Building. </p><p>Insurrection. Violence. Destruction. Attempted coup.</p><p>Impeachment #2. A new record. Congratulations.</p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRl-BjmyIt4vaOTWGqSBz8QCiQeuutduYCQVsSVFu4be-rFqGuYelgtlPQZWcb_K5p9Uw7VSA32jhTcY5w6XqcZAW479nNaBuYZB9Dyq0sm9Y6lv0dsO412OfhUQLlGEOmLss3NDQk6aw//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRl-BjmyIt4vaOTWGqSBz8QCiQeuutduYCQVsSVFu4be-rFqGuYelgtlPQZWcb_K5p9Uw7VSA32jhTcY5w6XqcZAW479nNaBuYZB9Dyq0sm9Y6lv0dsO412OfhUQLlGEOmLss3NDQk6aw/w393-h261/image.png" width="393" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Sick and tired of winning.</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br />And there's so much more, always. Every second of every day, it seems there's more to worry about. My worry cup is overflowing, and so I put myself on a news diet, but then I feel guilty because I know it's my privilege to be able to do that at all.</p><p>The point is: A (whole, real, amazing amount of) lot has hit all of us, at the same time, for an unbelievably long time. I can't stand the term "unprecedented times" anymore. That it's true only makes me more sick of it. The hits just keep on coming.</p><p>But I'm an adult. I have a lifetime of figuring out various coping mechanisms. Even though we're ten months into a pandemic that's just getting worse, and affects more facets of daily life than I ever would have imagined, I can hold on. I can figure out how to muddle my way through, hide when I need to, kick myself in the ass when I need to. In a depressive valley, I know that I will, at some point, find the sun again. </p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKtl0d49wIqzVMhRquYUQolTH23PPUtn25d9o0WLTcdSd_zQaOo995dbcW9zhC-nxCaxzB6dlgFhHrT_Hh6rGtoUGuvhmjSaSk9lcpE46cP4M_LUgK11VKo-X8jm6e8U4yqW5cUxXIFI//" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="468" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKtl0d49wIqzVMhRquYUQolTH23PPUtn25d9o0WLTcdSd_zQaOo995dbcW9zhC-nxCaxzB6dlgFhHrT_Hh6rGtoUGuvhmjSaSk9lcpE46cP4M_LUgK11VKo-X8jm6e8U4yqW5cUxXIFI//" width="158" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You're welcome for the earworm.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>My students haven't entirely figured that out yet. They're amazing people - smart and kind and caring - but they don't have the life experience to know about the sun. Because sometimes it's dark for way longer than you ever knew it could be. It's hard to remember that the ice will melt and flowers will bloom. </p><p>As I get older, the Dark Times take up a smaller percentage of my life. For young people, though, the same length of time is actually far longer, in comparison to how much life they've lived. Yet, I hear so many adults crabbing on them about being lazy. They're not lazy, they're just spending all their energy trying to survive without any tools.</p><p>I have tools. I still have income. I have a house. I have a support network, health insurance, food, clothes. I have agency. I am extremely lucky. I have all of this, but I'm still struggling, daily. </p><p>Young people don't have any tools, but they're somehow expected to bounce back better, sooner, higher than the rest of us? That's not fair to saddle them with that. </p><p>So if they learn nothing academic from me this year, but are still able to periodically find joy and hope, maybe even optimism, I'm going to call it a win for us all.</p><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HNonsMGuyhxWAnPEKnfNVBqqXUv92tAdKIQ2XPBznybMVnIbjH4lF7o8crnhVf02KzVZs5xceqUghSclEoqOYWsiH5FpVuSWd7qd_d4gnt968eKEId-gOQjB-g55qR8jPSUrrihFJgk/s1932/PHOTO_20201112_104507%257E2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1932" data-original-width="1752" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HNonsMGuyhxWAnPEKnfNVBqqXUv92tAdKIQ2XPBznybMVnIbjH4lF7o8crnhVf02KzVZs5xceqUghSclEoqOYWsiH5FpVuSWd7qd_d4gnt968eKEId-gOQjB-g55qR8jPSUrrihFJgk/w353-h389/PHOTO_20201112_104507%257E2.jpg" width="353" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Sick and tired and winning.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-63637496598789706282018-08-06T17:37:00.002-07:002018-08-07T05:42:00.493-07:00Learning the Language of a New ProductionLanguage fascinates me.<br />
<br />
I will never tired of etymology.<br />
<br />
I've said many times that dissecting words was one of the most important things I've ever learned. And it's something that my interest in language led me to do on my own. No one taught me, and that's a damn shame.<br />
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I have many multi-lingual friends. I have a friend who speaks five languages, including one I'd never even heard of, which happened to be her first. I have another friend who, over the course of her life, has practically collected languages: Armenian, Arabic, Russian, Turkish... I can't remember them all. I have friends who are ASL interpreters. Friends who teach French, Spanish, Chinese. And, although I have no scientific research to back this up, my guess is that most non-Americans in the world speak at least two languages.<br />
<br />
Then there are languages of vocation that are complete mysteries to me. I have a friend who's a midwife. Sometimes I send her screengrabs of my medical test results, so she can explain them to me. Another friend is a neurologist. Another has a PhD in geology. I mean, jeez, I barely passed my geology class in college, and do you know why? Because they're ROCKS, man. I can't tell the difference. But Adam is a DOCTOR, of ROCKS. Totally different language there.<br />
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Pictured: How I learned that showing up, every morning, to an 8:00 am college science class can </div>
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earn you a grade that your test scores would deem completely impossible.</div>
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I speak Theater. It's a language spoken by most of my friends, at least conversationally. We all understand "flies" and "upstage" and "FOH" and "call times." We know "Thank you, five" and "Q2Q" and "curtain speech" and "call board." We understand what someone means when they describe something as "Brechtian" and we know that "absurd" is not the equivalent of "weird." Some will converse at length about Artaud and Boal and Heathcote.<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I get frustrated when people who don't speak Theate</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">r assume they understand anyway. Kind of like when Archie Bunker put an "o" at the end of words so Spanish-speaking people could "understand" him.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a class="irc_mil i3597" data-ctbtn="2" data-cthref="/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjJzpK5ldbcAhWm0YMKHZcbDHkQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.cracked.com%2Farticle_25345_6-weird-things-that-show-up-in-every-sitcom.html&psig=AOvVaw3jA68NnYDUqMx2v0Q-4Yok&ust=1533566641267234" data-noload="" data-ved="2ahUKEwjJzpK5ldbcAhWm0YMKHZcbDHkQjRx6BAgBEAU" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwjJzpK5ldbcAhWm0YMKHZcbDHkQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.cracked.com%2Farticle_25345_6-weird-things-that-show-up-in-every-sitcom.html&psig=AOvVaw3jA68NnYDUqMx2v0Q-4Yok&ust=1533566641267234" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; border-image: none; border: 0px rgb(26, 13, 171); color: #1a0dab; cursor: pointer; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 13.33px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; outline: 0px; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><img alt="Image result for archie bunker elevator story" class="irc_mi" src="http://s3.crackedcdn.com/phpimages/article/8/3/1/648831_v2.jpg" height="265" style="background-color: white; background-image: -webkit-linear-gradient(45deg, rgb(239, 239, 239) 25%, transparent 25%, transparent 75%, rgb(239, 239, 239) 75%, rgb(239, 239, 239)), -webkit-linear-gradient(45deg, rgb(239, 239, 239) 25%, transparent 25%, transparent 75%, rgb(239, 239, 239) 75%, rgb(239, 239, 239)); background-position: 0px 0px, 10px 10px; background-size: 21px 21px; border-image: none; border: 0px rgb(26, 13, 171); box-shadow: 0px 5px 35px rgba(0,0,0,0.65); margin-top: 96px;" width="350" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ARCHIE BUNKER: <span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "open sans" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre; word-spacing: 0px;">Hey, good boy, Pedro.
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">HECTOR ELIZONDO: </span>I am not a boy. I am a man. And my name is Carlos.
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">ARCHIE BUNKER: </span>"Carlos" it is, Pedro.</span></td></tr>
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I was in my first play when I was ten years old. I directed my first play when I was 24. I started teaching acting in the early 2000s. Since 2012 (when I thought to start counting), I have had 1,345 theater students. I cannot even begin to remember, let alone count, the hundreds (thousands?) of productions that I've been involved in, as an actor, playwright, director, assistant director, acting coach, props or costumes or set or lighting or sound designer/crew. That's a lot of experience, and yet I am still so far from knowing even one one-jillionth of All Theater Stuffs that I can't even perceive of ever being close to regarded as any kind of expert.<br />
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Case in point: Last year, at school, I decided that our spring production would be two one-acts. Because directing two one-act plays would be the time/effort-equivalent of directing one two-act play, right?<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Sooooo not right. </span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kind of like how four warm-weather American cities are equal to one frozen continent...?</td></tr>
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It's directing two plays, at the same time. As it turs out, the length of the material doesn't matter, because each play is completely different in every way <i>except</i> length: directorial concept, tech (props, costume, set, lighting, sound) design, cast, pacing, genre... everything. Including, I discovered, language.<br />
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Each play, each production, each cast, and each cast member has a different language. I've recently discovered this, and that if I'm not open to learning the new language of each new set of circumstances, it leads to misunderstanding, frustration, and resentment.<br />
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At school this past spring, I directed <i>The Laramie Project</i>. I knew it would be tough, emotionally, physically, and every other way. I was right about that.<br />
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But I didn't expect the language barrier. Not with the cast, but with the process.<br />
<i></i><br />
<i>The Laramie Project</i> has about 80 characters in it. It's written for eight actors. We had eleven in our production. (Kansas City Academy is a very small school.) That means everyone played 6-8 characters. Tricky for them. What was unexpected for me, as I was blocking (writing down where everyone moves onstage) it, was keeping track of 80-ish characters at all times. Writing blocking for eleven actors? No problem. Writing blocking for 80 characters, most of which are invisible at any given time? Lots of problems.<br />
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I had to figure out ways to record "where we left the character" onstage, as most of them are recurring, and so had different costume pieces or props, which would be left behind as the actor crossed the stage to "pick up" a different character.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujyyC9aXCBoS5SEi-j0OINhkar09JlmqPzAZOyWuVpZFgQEF___XbOI1n4KGCIM2GGq70waB6scSTyaVdkUVrHhUHXSlOQObS_j8NIV7nuybHXtonWbk_bdxSkb-dWuSQjfLoru4q5v8/s1600/2018-02-19+15.25.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujyyC9aXCBoS5SEi-j0OINhkar09JlmqPzAZOyWuVpZFgQEF___XbOI1n4KGCIM2GGq70waB6scSTyaVdkUVrHhUHXSlOQObS_j8NIV7nuybHXtonWbk_bdxSkb-dWuSQjfLoru4q5v8/s320/2018-02-19+15.25.43.jpg" width="240" /></a> </div>
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How much sense does this make?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAlKgJzVAQ-uBsE7-fo4TCNWj58s2Zl2mk7Y9pCpSeocD3jbBIMaAXD2VE2BTOv_vHcZIpQUonWHQqiTGuW8DQTejUOzd-crcUbLSpob_lSI6WpMrXKL73X0Pq1edEYS5TVhBv2s0nws/s1600/2018-02-19+15.23.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQAlKgJzVAQ-uBsE7-fo4TCNWj58s2Zl2mk7Y9pCpSeocD3jbBIMaAXD2VE2BTOv_vHcZIpQUonWHQqiTGuW8DQTejUOzd-crcUbLSpob_lSI6WpMrXKL73X0Pq1edEYS5TVhBv2s0nws/s320/2018-02-19+15.23.55.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Is it at least better than this<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Because they say the same thing.</span></span></div>
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For instance, if Jeffrey (there's no Jeffrey at my school) entered downstage left as McCool (there's no McCool in <i>Laramie Project</i>), then crossed upstage right, and entered next as Petunia (don't look for Petunia either), we had to remember that "McCool" was last seen UR, so when we needed McCool again later, Jeffrey had to make it back there to put McCool's hat back on before his next entrance. At the same time, if Petunia exited the stage up left, before Jeffrey portrayed Golfer #4 (there's no golf), we had to make sure Golfer #4's stuff was UL, and that Jeffrey had to return there to get Petunia's eyeglasses and scarf. Right? And since there's a Golfer #4 (no, there's not), that indicates that there are at least three other Golfers that <i>aren't</i> Jeffrey, and they need to know where their golf clubs/characters are too.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGBmvM8_syvPmEFKs0G5OtThByvPbMQu9XBisaSkZG5kaXPgIDKo11yiz57VuT-FyovmfBr-V-Q3y4CuvNKEYTEGbcJmTbZjrE3X_29-YXqmngFYOkuZjy2cxlBXWGqbcZsbRcCgEA1PQ/s1600/2018-02-19+15.25.43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>And so on. But that example was just Jeffrey, and three of his characters. Now multiply that by eleven actors and 80 characters. (That math doesn't actually work out, but you get the point.)<br />
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So, I had to develop an entirely new language, for me at least, to figure out where actors were, which was different from where characters were, how to move them all around the theater, and how to communicate all this to the cast, many of whom had never been onstage before.<br />
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I won't go into details, just know that the whole thing gave me a brain ache.<br />
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But wait! There's more! Because this was basically all for <i>me</i>. What about the actors themselves?<br />
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First, not all actors were in the habit of actually coming to every rehearsal that they were called to. (Responsibility and accountability are things a lot of adults haven't even learned.) So I had to use place-keepers, so everyone who actually showed up to rehearsal could keep track of where a missing actor was supposed to be.<br />
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So, stuffed animals with actors' initials. Yup.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_suSwZ7iHnj2Q5lc3xsSFYx8U5U4FIZvKInQlBfwV52IutZEzmCFKoyJrjQkWILH4YN83S4yzl2ZQ7WnOpe8T9EkNNquvWuvK4A1ZQ2l-BBLYMle1yMEte90ZOL5z2iN_0tUna5mnMM/s1600/IMG_20180218_222853077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_suSwZ7iHnj2Q5lc3xsSFYx8U5U4FIZvKInQlBfwV52IutZEzmCFKoyJrjQkWILH4YN83S4yzl2ZQ7WnOpe8T9EkNNquvWuvK4A1ZQ2l-BBLYMle1yMEte90ZOL5z2iN_0tUna5mnMM/s320/IMG_20180218_222853077.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Seen here: My prayer that fewer than five actors would be gone at any given time.</div>
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So, that takes care of the actors. But what about all of those characters? They're invisible, until we have costumes and props, and that makes them very difficult to keep track of. Enter recyclables.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZnoxk4MBaZWBpC0t6wZ30RrsBGmVp9pAZSqDiJpg0olAZqJgvr11qjeYugOxnW0pUW7LVxiJHT089xz57yoipfexXADJTmwpDsc9RR8slWvf-Pui4W0PGbjC_M_enzGRqEobZpHsajc/s1600/2018-02-25+15.24.44-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZnoxk4MBaZWBpC0t6wZ30RrsBGmVp9pAZSqDiJpg0olAZqJgvr11qjeYugOxnW0pUW7LVxiJHT089xz57yoipfexXADJTmwpDsc9RR8slWvf-Pui4W0PGbjC_M_enzGRqEobZpHsajc/s320/2018-02-25+15.24.44-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The role of "Jen" in tonight's rehearsal will be played by Creamcheese Containerlid.</td></tr>
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The actor could pick up, say a Triscuit box, which represented their current character, and would know exactly where that character was "left" at all times, and so could know where they had to be onstage before that character appeared again. Oy.<br />
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So that's my phrasebook for Laramiese.<br />
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The language of <i>The Man in My Beard</i> (AKA <i>The Ballad of Frank Allen</i>, by Shane Adamczak), the show we presented at this year's KC Fringe Festival, was completely different. Because duh. Different show, different language.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ2BZILC9kh73Eojv_nFLNVUXDalkU0KGxq8SDc30nEDlUUZrN0OEKHg3c9QBBBvG_nDytIb_bf5F2njKkP5m941POXV42kUmzJbUGk0T7vmmBP3SV2l1wPAVsdzL5rBaBHc3-RET0cM/s1600/Official++Bob+annd+Will+as+Bantam+laser+gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ2BZILC9kh73Eojv_nFLNVUXDalkU0KGxq8SDc30nEDlUUZrN0OEKHg3c9QBBBvG_nDytIb_bf5F2njKkP5m941POXV42kUmzJbUGk0T7vmmBP3SV2l1wPAVsdzL5rBaBHc3-RET0cM/s320/Official++Bob+annd+Will+as+Bantam+laser+gun.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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J. Will Fritz and Bob Linebarger</div>
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Photo: Crawford</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgTu-kpXPEMfB1VFmQPG1BP1hCTF-Kej1edHOeg_xpWBtACOj016SM8Tb3kNcYvpdCPwyZmKCkh-wtEVAubK2C9lt4I0mVVZV89fad7lFgavJpANaDEJRw8RkCJpidgABUPaz8hMoY-s/s1600/Official+Bantam+and+Ronson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgTu-kpXPEMfB1VFmQPG1BP1hCTF-Kej1edHOeg_xpWBtACOj016SM8Tb3kNcYvpdCPwyZmKCkh-wtEVAubK2C9lt4I0mVVZV89fad7lFgavJpANaDEJRw8RkCJpidgABUPaz8hMoY-s/s320/Official+Bantam+and+Ronson.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Bob Linebarger and J. Will Fritz</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Photo: Crawford</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWRqUNhbgdSDwInwPHBP4AlO06p5XJWmVoSTiu-QmhjZh3oLhe_kNVBaCYJUC9B5yK-tAWqu0qA_UUUMnrOqCoDZfAklwPKU0OYQbeTsSxghfJK-u9nVWWg89km8jJT2omn9ydgPLmAs/s1600/Official+Across+the+Ice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="1023" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWRqUNhbgdSDwInwPHBP4AlO06p5XJWmVoSTiu-QmhjZh3oLhe_kNVBaCYJUC9B5yK-tAWqu0qA_UUUMnrOqCoDZfAklwPKU0OYQbeTsSxghfJK-u9nVWWg89km8jJT2omn9ydgPLmAs/s320/Official+Across+the+Ice.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Did I mention that there were songs too? Yeah, songs too.</div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Photo: Crawford</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
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Part of the necessity for the invention of a new language here was the fact that I cast four people in a two-man show. The play was written for a bare stage, but I had this awesome (?) idea that we could enhance the story with the use of projections and shadow-play. So I cast two people to pretty much live behind an onstage screen for the entire show.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnNNURhfvaFRpxBhJB4IB7sL83jfjXJZxXr8vSsQDAwOMaMgFoEkZIS3W6sPVg7y7bwB9SjgkgrCGcSKr_MRusGl8BuNe1Sq-lEbeaevZGY6kxJ6J9014ppfPb5jDkuMXdsi2BXtB7r8/s1600/2018-07-27+20.31.48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnNNURhfvaFRpxBhJB4IB7sL83jfjXJZxXr8vSsQDAwOMaMgFoEkZIS3W6sPVg7y7bwB9SjgkgrCGcSKr_MRusGl8BuNe1Sq-lEbeaevZGY6kxJ6J9014ppfPb5jDkuMXdsi2BXtB7r8/s320/2018-07-27+20.31.48.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You know what they say: Three hands, warm heart.</td></tr>
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"This won't be confusing at all," or anything remotely similar to this, is not even close to any thought I ever had, before actually starting rehearsal.<br />
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First, in addition to Bob and J. Will, who were seen during the whole play, I had to block people who weren't actually onstage, and yet, they were an integral part of the production and had to do stuff to keep the show moving. But I couldn't see behind the screen to know who would be doing what, so I couldn't write that "Jill does this" and "Natalee does that" with any knowledge of that actually being possible. So, I ended up writing "SFX" (how the kids these days spell "special effects") does this and that. Easy enough. Except...<br />
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There were many different <i>types</i> of effects: transparencies for the Olde Tyme overhead projector, shadow acting, and sound effects. So, the titles "SFX: TRANS," "SFX: SHADOWS," and "SFX: SOUND" started appearing all over my copy of the script.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
SFX: TRANS + SFX: SHADOWS: </div>
<div>
Bob and Jill Gillespie's shadow, out to dinner. Also, slight political barb.</div>
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SFX: TRANS + SFX: SHADOWS: </div>
<div>
Bob, Natalee Merola as "Old Lady in Hat at the Bakery," J. Will </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFdHFjevVz5Und1yRsaVXuZevW6tEl1AfYMCA68uOj2LmgigbY0YOlMMS1hyphenhyphenglcWYzZTmt8JFHyeWKlOXjveiEaXGzCakj4uWM3A-ujZBcrAOtWRzVxN5cUWD3awb1Xpt3mf38Q-2gAzE/s1600/2018-07-18+21.09.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
So, yay. That's taken care of. Now, back to directing...<br />
<br />
These. Two. Simultaneous. Shows.<br />
<br />
They're onstage at the same time, but the show in front of the screen and the show behind the screen are very, very different. They're dependent on each other. They interact with each other. They cue each other. But they're not the same play. They're two halves of a whole. But they're still separate, with very disparate needs and I had to figure out how to talk to them both, at the same time, in two distinct languages.<br />
<br />
How, at this stage of my career, do I still not realize what I'm getting myself into? Me and my bright ideas. Rushing headlong into a potential theatrical imbroglio.<br />
<br />
And then, figuring it out. Or at least, trying to. Maybe that's the whole point. If I really knew what I was getting into, I might avoid doing it.<br />
<br />
I don't feel like I dream big. I do, at times, dream weird. I dream in color. I dream in language.<br />
<i></i><br />
<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-64371028114794408822018-01-05T17:17:00.001-08:002018-01-05T17:17:43.986-08:00The DeVos Debacle, Part 2
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<b><u>Introduction to Part 2</u></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
If you're new here, I would recommend reading the intro to Part 1, and save us both a bunch of time. In fact, read all of Part 1, otherwise, you'll probably be very, very lost. I know I was, and I was there.</div>
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<br /></div>
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If you're continuing on this journey, here are the next installments to my DeVos diary. The dates are when I originally posted them on Facebook.</div>
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***</div>
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<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<b><u>Thurs, 9-21-17</u></b></div>
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Episode Five: Saved by the Betsy</div>
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In our last episode, Tara was talking to US Secretary of
Education, Betsy DeVos. With no one else speaking up, Tara started the
roundtable discussion by asking DeVos' about her plans for Title IX, referring
to the a appalling announcement she'd made in a 30-minute speech one week
before. Tara asked the question twice, and DeVos continued to give non-answers,
so Tara decided to be direct:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Okay, so, do you know you're not answering the
question?"</div>
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<br /></div>
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***</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIH4bQ7ugZozC2yDxoHkkNEa85wCHYtPtVC51QDHQHpM2xhAlVK1TJHe6aWCyWDZUrP1ZET1YQSwYp1p2H0BAyFANU55mfiOq1YFdOsIFsis-Czc4BAP1Iz6U1Re788N4cHE92nn4D440/s1600/2017-09-15+08.12.18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1106" height="328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIH4bQ7ugZozC2yDxoHkkNEa85wCHYtPtVC51QDHQHpM2xhAlVK1TJHe6aWCyWDZUrP1ZET1YQSwYp1p2H0BAyFANU55mfiOq1YFdOsIFsis-Czc4BAP1Iz6U1Re788N4cHE92nn4D440/s400/2017-09-15+08.12.18.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
"When the person I'm looking at stops moving their mouth, </div>
<div>
that's when I say the memorized sound bites, right?"</div>
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DeVos paused slightly. "Well, I... I think I am,"
she stammered. "I think that, very broadly, every student needs to be in a
- "</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Oh, not this shit again. I once more interrupted her.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Well, very broadly, but that includes, you know, being
able to report when they're not safe and making sure that that's taken
seriously. It's already difficult enough - for people who have been harassed
and abused, et cetera, it's already difficult enough to be taken seriously
because we are undeniably living in a rape culture, and by making it more
difficult to make those complaints heard, and take those complaints seriously,
then the children that you say deserve to be safe, are no longer safe. I
shouldn't say 'children,' I should say 'young people.' Really, it's all of us, actually."</div>
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<br /></div>
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There. Dodge it again. I dare you.</div>
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</div>
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As if this was an entirely new spin on my previous four
attempts, DeVos started, "But if your question with regards to Title IX is
specifically with regard to sexual assault - "</div>
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<br /></div>
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Un-freaking-believable.</div>
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<br /></div>
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"Well, that's what you've been talking about recently."
... you spineless little...</div>
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<br /></div>
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"And I have applauded the last administration, "
she said, "for really raising this issue and wanting to address it in a
very comprehensive way, and continue to believe that sexual assault needs to be
taken very, very seriously, and never again swept under the rug, and at the
same time, it is also important that due process is taken seriously."</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Hm. Sounds familiar. Oh, right. That's some of the exact
phrasing she used in her speech last week.</div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Do you feel it's not?" I asked. I mean, there are
countless rapists out there, who actually got charges pressed against them
(rare), were put on trial (very rare), found guilty (almost unheard of), only
to be released because the court decided that such a conviction might ruin his
future. It's absolutely sickening.</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
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"It hasn't been, in a lot of circumstances," DeVos
asserted, "and, in fact, a lot of students who have been victims and
survivors become re-victimized because we have situations where due process has
not been followed, and then they have to be re-adjudicated, and they become
victims again. We really need to have a balanced approach where everybody's
rights are taken very seriously and respected."</div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Okay, but it seems - "</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I was interrupted by a very worried-looking faculty member.
"I think we need to give some other people a chance to ask some questions,
and actually, Secretary, I have a question for you: Have you ever been in a
school this small before?"</div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Later that night, at a bar with many KCA community members, a
teacher who was sitting across from me during the meeting told me that this was
the point at which my knees started jumping up and down in a furious tempo. </div>
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<br /></div>
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"Furious" is an excellent word for it.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvlrtLPXUEB4e7qzZfw1Dd3FRmMI2CcbQ4bmNHwIxu9yhVMjgMD7SFbYlRRBycSxWgN5mnX0ABk183mE18MF-ELEbUQ67YE3VYqJ8rIjxpiX7Q_rzyJrYHExnomg3hCpcI8QDDuSuXhQ/s1600/Lego+classroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvlrtLPXUEB4e7qzZfw1Dd3FRmMI2CcbQ4bmNHwIxu9yhVMjgMD7SFbYlRRBycSxWgN5mnX0ABk183mE18MF-ELEbUQ67YE3VYqJ8rIjxpiX7Q_rzyJrYHExnomg3hCpcI8QDDuSuXhQ/s640/Lego+classroom.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actual photo of a KCA classroom. Apparently.</td></tr>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<b><u>Sat, 9-23-17</u></b></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
In our previous episode, Tara was asking US Secretary of
Education Betsy DeVos about her plans for Title IX. DeVos gave long and
involved non-answers, and Tara called her on the dodge. Tara continued to press
and then...</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Okay, but it seems -"</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I was interrupted by a very worried-looking faculty member.
"I think we need to give some other people a chance to ask some questions,
and actually, Secretary, I have a question for you: Have you ever been in a
school this small before?"</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Later that night, at a bar with many KCA community members,
a teacher who was sitting across from me during the meeting told me that this
was the point at which my knees started jumping up and down in a furious tempo.
</div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Furious" is an excellent word for it.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
***</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSq81TnnqInQ206sQ3BxqnvR_YNLLbSYn39vSEHbft5TJX10KbDdu_-EkpwbcZhEjyhIxWo79cWOSYJwHdFnMZDJcSha8ONk2N6LMrdSUDC0RMuKMvc8S-fNZpYsSpBb9jvaffqvuTHo/s1600/internally+screaming.gif" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="352" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSq81TnnqInQ206sQ3BxqnvR_YNLLbSYn39vSEHbft5TJX10KbDdu_-EkpwbcZhEjyhIxWo79cWOSYJwHdFnMZDJcSha8ONk2N6LMrdSUDC0RMuKMvc8S-fNZpYsSpBb9jvaffqvuTHo/s320/internally+screaming.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px;">
I was not angry at the suggestion that someone else should
have a turn to speak. Not at all. </div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I was angry that progress finally seemed to be made, and she
was "rescued" by the change of subject, apparently so she wouldn't
feel too uncomfortable, or leave with some sort of bad feeling about KCA. She
doesn't need protection from us; we need protection from her.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I was angry that the interruption was cloaked in the lie
that<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>"other people" should
have a chance to talk, and then this same person took that time for themselves.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">But I was absolutely livid, beyond compare, that the
interruption of a time-sensitive and dangerous conversation, like changing
federal policies on dealing with campus sexual assault, came in the form of a
question of astounding vapidity. "Have you ever been in a school this
small before?" </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">How insipid. How denigrating. </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">And DeVos answered it. "Um... I have... Probably more in my
hometown area, in Grand Rapids, in years past..." </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Gross.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zvZlszUKau_XWsXAeJydrMEEoaWessrGnmVcGkE3XDXCaW22RjaC7knWmxwsyc8qCh5X58y-POu6oJOJaLerExjpLrhFXhFxCdYLKEyRaV79jtO4pXVaDGkqFN625emNIEfuuKQpi7Q/s1600/2017-09-15+08.29.40.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1184" data-original-width="1431" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zvZlszUKau_XWsXAeJydrMEEoaWessrGnmVcGkE3XDXCaW22RjaC7knWmxwsyc8qCh5X58y-POu6oJOJaLerExjpLrhFXhFxCdYLKEyRaV79jtO4pXVaDGkqFN625emNIEfuuKQpi7Q/s400/2017-09-15+08.29.40.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm totally not mentally pairing this image with an evil scientist laugh.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><div style="background: white; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Another teacher then introduced herself as having a long career
in public schools, and asked DeVos if she was planning on visiting any of
those. DeVos named exactly one. The teacher went on to say that she implemented
a lot of her observations of KCA, from when her child was a student here, in
her public school classroom. She expressed confidence that some of these
methods would work in a public school setting, and asked how DeVos planned on
supporting that.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
In her 30-second reply, DeVos twice used each of the
following: "Rethink School," "community,"
"changes," and "embrace." I phrase it in this way because
there wasn't really an answer in any of that.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
So, the teacher asked, "But how will the United States
Department of Education support that, those efforts?" She listed a number
of requirements, such as time and money, to make this happen, and also slipped
in the suggestion that we do away with some of this "onerous standardized
testing." (This is when I would have turned on the APPLAUSE sign.)</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKMQqCb0AmVTm-aZHSsVqfn8eiG8rIxxK07jNUwIiRurai2kv9fvVfDblzWEe2rCnDVdQ2RFuv1FkyqcwpBG3YJm_EWsECm50YKQV_DidlbIxxSOF_XtvvuQC9lv4FyY1Ty3oyfGjdkM/s1600/hell-yes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="330" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKMQqCb0AmVTm-aZHSsVqfn8eiG8rIxxK07jNUwIiRurai2kv9fvVfDblzWEe2rCnDVdQ2RFuv1FkyqcwpBG3YJm_EWsECm50YKQV_DidlbIxxSOF_XtvvuQC9lv4FyY1Ty3oyfGjdkM/s320/hell-yes.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, don't mind me. I'm just sitting over here with my HELL, YES.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
DeVos answered that the "Every Student Succeeds Act,
which all of the states are putting plans together right now, takes an
important step in that direction. Congress' goal was to return flexibility to
the states and to, you know, undo a lot of the burdensome regulation" ...I admit to a snort of laughter at this, but no one seemed
to notice... "oversight from the federal level. I'm very much aligned with
that, and think that states and even all of the state commissioners and
superintendents, and all of the leadership at the state level - I'm encouraging
them to grant that same kind of flexibility to local districts and even local
school buildings. I think the change is going to happen the most significantly
at a grass roots, local level, where communities address the needs that they
have, right there, and if they can do that, free of a lot of burden from higher
up, it's going to allow it to happen much more quickly."</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
The count for that last answer:</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"State"/"states": 5</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Local": 3</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Federal": 1</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
It seems pretty obvious the significance that the US
Secretary of Education puts on the existence of the US Department of Education.</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
***</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I've come to the end of what I wrote in the days following the visit. I will consult my detailed records of the visit, and be back with the rest of the story as soon as possible. Though I think it's really important to share the story, it's hard finding time for this; I'm a teacher, you know.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-58769394112808761652018-01-02T09:50:00.000-08:002018-01-02T14:11:48.774-08:00The DeVos Debacle, Part 1 <b><u>INTRODUCTION:</u></b><br />
On Friday, September 15, 2017, controversial US Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos visited our school, as part of her "Rethink School" tour. She's a billionaire, with no experience that one would think would be necessary for this job (but then, the one who appointed her has no experience necessary for his job either), and has made it very clear that she is terribly disconnected from the reality that non-billionaires live in, nor how her plans would impact children, families, or society as a whole. She's also demonstrated a clear disdain for LGBTQ equality, an ignorance of science, reinstated heavy financial penalties on students who've defaulted on their loans (because that makes sense) and, the week before her visit, announced her plans to basically gut Title IX protections of sexual assault victims on college campuses, because the accused perpetrators have been so unfairly treated.<br />
<br />
I could go on and on, but you have Google.<br />
<br />
We'd had a couple weeks' notice that she was going to come. We were told to keep it under our hats for a few days, probably because she's received so many threats in her first seven months in office that she now travels with armed US Marshals. Just a guess.<br />
<br />
Anyway, when it was made public, I got a flood of questions and information requests about the visit, from friends, many of whom are public school teachers, artists, queer, and/or any number of other traits that she's shown clear disrespect for. I knew little: arrival time, a rough schedule, and departure time.<br />
<br />
That, and a group of organizations had pulled together to organize a protest. I only knew about this when I was invited to attend.<br />
<br />
But I couldn't, really, because I had asked to be part of the "roundtable discussion" with DeVos herself that day.<br />
<br />
The days leading up to her visit were very tense. Generally, our students are very politically astute. They'd been waiting to hear about her confirmation in February, and got very angry when it happened. They knew her positions. They did their research. They knew she wasn't supportive of them. They wanted to make their positions known, so some teachers found themselves in positions of dropping everything to come up with a positive way of expressing their views.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kVU6HrJk8786yFdCWYROPPw9t4KqWS1mLYur102sWxPuvzVM63RVvMyKQT0f8zCqwesK6FjioMVAa4Sw0_2l8LPjuWBy3yiRu4QhZn8vFJQP5wisNZkGxXo0xc89Vq1zqRVvAEx_EPg/s1600/2017-09-14+14.18.16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kVU6HrJk8786yFdCWYROPPw9t4KqWS1mLYur102sWxPuvzVM63RVvMyKQT0f8zCqwesK6FjioMVAa4Sw0_2l8LPjuWBy3yiRu4QhZn8vFJQP5wisNZkGxXo0xc89Vq1zqRVvAEx_EPg/s640/2017-09-14+14.18.16.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Student self-"expression boards" included statements and images of what's important to them. In this collection: Love is Love, Black Lives Matter, no racism, transgender rights, DACA, toast (because, come on, toast is great), </div>
<div>
and the strangely moving "All 3 of these Pokémon have no gender."</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKnXGcSzXIS01i0WBdvMNAIVs_8MZWQcKjJ18N2V6ol4XRDN7qlZNLEchKftG9Al96QeU14R50apLVRzdYqDnEMPa8SC0ftf_alos_3LP74qkzhPJsumi7ZjjGt5AMudY1TB15Wc5v_0/s1600/2017-09-14+14.18.38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKnXGcSzXIS01i0WBdvMNAIVs_8MZWQcKjJ18N2V6ol4XRDN7qlZNLEchKftG9Al96QeU14R50apLVRzdYqDnEMPa8SC0ftf_alos_3LP74qkzhPJsumi7ZjjGt5AMudY1TB15Wc5v_0/s640/2017-09-14+14.18.38.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"No More Families Torn Apart," "Protect DACA," Black Lives Matter, "Obama!", puppies, Canada, <br />
"If it's not your body, it's not your decision," breast cancer awareness ribbon...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tmTw4swiZKgI6k7hx1aG_CSVTx9Ak1yL8HP8obDV-_O2Qow9OZfQapNeFLz_Ug48y15Bal3iJUfRTdo_0OlLBEfm7TZCTLzXGUIFjskz3oEIA158SDGqkFeUX2MC_E8Bd8v2j6RM-hw/s1600/2017-09-14+15.38.52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tmTw4swiZKgI6k7hx1aG_CSVTx9Ak1yL8HP8obDV-_O2Qow9OZfQapNeFLz_Ug48y15Bal3iJUfRTdo_0OlLBEfm7TZCTLzXGUIFjskz3oEIA158SDGqkFeUX2MC_E8Bd8v2j6RM-hw/s640/2017-09-14+15.38.52.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
"The people start to think," "Embrace Creativity," "We're all full of gooshy red stuff," "Why can't we all just use one bathroom?", "Am I go forward...or am I go back?", "Born in Violence,"</div>
<div>
and possibly the truest statement ever made, "This world needs weirdos."</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />I was in on a little of that, but mostly, I found my own classes so full of questions about DeVos, and protests, and armed guards, and her policies, and her impact on our school, her impact on other schools... And anxiety. Lots of anxiety, worry, tears, "What if," and so much else. I ditched all my lesson plans, because students were consumed with concern about the visit. I thought that the most important thing was making sure they felt safe, and addressing their fears was way more important than learning where downstage was.<br />
<br />
So very many people in my life wanted details. I, too, was overwhelmed - before, during, and after - so I wasn't able to just sit down and say what happened that day in one fell swoop. Small chunks was the only way I could deal with it, so I posted installments on Facebook. The following are those installments, including the original post dates, in their entirety.<br />
<br />
Please note: I'm not finished with these diary entries. I'd already scheduled auditions for the school play when we got the news that she was coming, for earlier that week. Between DeVos, trying to get my classes back on track (I figure I lost easily a month of instruction time, because of all this), my other jobs (because I teach at a tiny private school), rehearsals/performances of the school play.... I had to put the rest on hold. I'm hoping to finish this week of winter "break," which, all teachers know, only means that you work in your pajamas, but do at least as much as when school is in session.<br />
<br />
So..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 16px 0px;">
</div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;"><u><b>Sun, 9-17-17</b></u></span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I'm having a hard time getting started. I'm still trying to
process. Maybe I can do this if I take it in small chunks.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I am, weirdly, still shaken up by the events on Friday. I was
hoping I could catch up on work yesterday - the work that I'd shoved to the
side for a couple of weeks, in order to prepare myself and my students for
Betsy DeVos' visit to our school. But apparently, yesterday was made for
staring into space, rocking back and forth, and taking unexpected naps. This
thing depleted me. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">It was obvious from the beginning, of course, that she was not
interested in listening to us (students, teachers, parents). I couldn't
completely figure out her angle, though, until the press release. At that
point, I knew for sure that she was using our loving school community to twist
into sound bites and photo ops to further her agenda. I know, I know... But I
had this silly little Pollyanna flicker of hope that maybe she really did want
to learn. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I've more or less stopped wearing makeup, but you know, the
press was going to be there, and who knows what was going to happen, so I
thought I'd go all out and wear eyeliner *and* mascara. The whole time I sat in
front of the mirror, I felt like I was putting on war paint. I was preparing
for battle.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I really had no intention of actually saying anything. I wanted
to give the precious little time we had with her to students and parents. But
when it was time to start, no one else spoke up. So I did.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">By then, I was so worked up with worry, anger, excitement, a
fierce sense of protecting that which is precious to me, a barf bag full of
anxiety, a strange air of desperation, and the distinct feeling of betrayal...
well, I don't think I was terribly successful at easing into the conversation.
I said, "Well, I'd like to hear about Title IX. Go ahead." </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">And then I got *really* mad.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOuKB94GtkFEJP0zum-n_2ADtvosMGlp2moQ6iWG3VGbPMB7XKQ13V_qQXKwyDw3WRj3fNmcgeVK8Fh2HTKhwtTL2q9STLJr-0tF9V77h_bf5LbFtoBzEGsfeqM-SXyM1sOekecbmnhyphenhyphenk/s1600/Title+IX+protesters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="776" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOuKB94GtkFEJP0zum-n_2ADtvosMGlp2moQ6iWG3VGbPMB7XKQ13V_qQXKwyDw3WRj3fNmcgeVK8Fh2HTKhwtTL2q9STLJr-0tF9V77h_bf5LbFtoBzEGsfeqM-SXyM1sOekecbmnhyphenhyphenk/s400/Title+IX+protesters.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't alone. Protesters outside KCA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="background: white; margin: 16px 0px;">
</div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Mon, 9-18-17</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">PREQUEL: </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">My apologies. I realize now that I should have started earlier
in the story of De(Vos) Day.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I fretted a long time over what to wear. If nothing else, if I did
not speak, I knew that my choice of attire could stand as communication of my
views. Several teachers had decided to wear black, in protest, but I'm not that
subtle.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I finally settled on one of my KCA t-shorts, the one that has a
huge orange square on the back that says WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY? Seemed
appropriate, but I underlined "YOU" in sparkly stick-on gems, just to
be sure I clearly communicated the message. I also put on the black armband
that I've been wearing on and off since January, and nearly every day since
school started last month. I wore rainbow earrings, for my LGBTQIA students,
and took the buttons that I usually have on my purse -
"#illgowithyou" over a trans flag, and the one with Fannie Lou
Hamer's quote, "Nobody is free until everybody is free." -<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>and pinned them to my shirt, along with a
safety pin (signifying "If you need help, I am a safe person"). I
slipped on my Human Rights Campaign bracelets, and one I just bought in Atlanta
earlier this year inscribed with<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Laurel
Thatcher's Ulrich's famous quote, "Well-behaved women seldom make
history."</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Then I packed my pussy hat. I didn't want to wear it before the
meeting, just to be sure I wasn't going to be told to take it off before it
started. </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">A friend had invited me out the night before, but I declined,
wanting to go to bed early, as I anticipated not being able to sleep. Good
decision. I was awake at 4 a.m.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I was in knots as I drove up and saw all the police officers
walking around the school grounds. I parked, and invoked my white privilege to
unhesitatingly ask one if we were (please please please) expecting a boring
day. He said that they weren't worried.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">It was about 7:15 a.m. Protesters were gathering across the
street. Some friends had asked me to live-tweet the day's event as it happened.
I knew I also had a ton of people on Facebook who were awaiting details, so I
took a photo of the early crowd: "It's started."</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Walking in to the school - a side door, rarely used, was our
point of entrance - was like walking onto a movie set. Not that appearances
were different, really, but there were small groups of people all over school,
going over plans, and a strong air of anxious anticipation. If you didn't know
something big was about to happen, you would still know that something big was
about to happen.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">I used the restroom. My zipper broke. Because why not? I was
about to be in a roundtable meeting with the United States Secretary of
Education, so of course I'd meet this billionaire with my fly down.</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="margin: 0px;"><b><u>Tues, 9-19-17</u></b></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Prequel, Part 2:</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
From the last episode: Tara was minutes away from a
roundtable meeting with billionaire Betsy DeVos, the US Secretary of Education,
and the zipper to her thrift-store pants had just broken...</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
It apparently wasn't actually broken, but stuck down inside
the little pocket at the bottom of the zipper. I left the stall (and washed my
hands!) so I could have more room to maneuver. Another teacher walked in on me,
wrestling with the damn thing, in the middle of the bathroom. She suggested I
go to my office, where I could actually take my pants off to fish out the
zipper pull. She led me there, walking in front of me "to cover" my
crotchal area. It was all so ridiculous, I had to laugh.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Office. Pants off. Zipper fixed. Pants on. Down to the
meeting room.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I walked into the room at the same time as one of the
student representatives to our school board and another teacher. I jokingly
said, "I need to sit next to someone whose hands I can squeeze when it
hurts." They laughed. Wait, did I say it was a joke? Yeah, okay, maybe it
was.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Most of the teachers and students who were coming to the
meeting were there. I was so nervous, I felt sick. I figure that, at these
times, other people are feeling similarly, so the job I've taken on in my life
is that of comedy relief. So I asked all of them so come together for a photo,
and said, "Show us how you really feel." The result is a picture with
mostly smiles, although a couple seem exaggeratingly tense. One person is
sticking their finger down their throat. One person is making an expression
that I can only describe as "angry Barney Fife in the headlights."</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7qb20QwFJMoyYeKNOtpv4wgf3gGpO-V-04MwzvoDCxqaBe2vNEoTLBR5NLoB-STLp4crlSXZgvuHbVCBmCFFrig_v6FHl_cLI-4z3vQHgaMKgDWaMGBDR7jMMyWyZ2D-8kSJ93AGV8k/s1600/2017-09-15+07.58.12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1007" data-original-width="1600" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7qb20QwFJMoyYeKNOtpv4wgf3gGpO-V-04MwzvoDCxqaBe2vNEoTLBR5NLoB-STLp4crlSXZgvuHbVCBmCFFrig_v6FHl_cLI-4z3vQHgaMKgDWaMGBDR7jMMyWyZ2D-8kSJ93AGV8k/s400/2017-09-15+07.58.12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is not that picture. This is more like... a Tuesday.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
A couple more minutes of milling, and one student rep came in and said,
"She's here." </div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Places, everyone.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I put on my pussy hat.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I had taken a seat on the far side of the room. When Betsy
DeVos entered, she started around the circle of tables, shaking hands with each
of us, in the direction that put me toward the end. I suddenly remembered that
we'd been given advance notice that she was up for selfies. When she got to me,
I shook her hand (a good, firm handshake, by the way) and introduced myself,
then whipped out my phone for a photo. The first one was pretty
"normal," in that she's smiling at the camera, and I'm making my
usual selfie face, which is an overly-excited, open-mouthed expression. Then, I
realized that this was the billionaire US Secretary of Education, who was
working to dismantle our public school system and take away protection rights
of a large percentage of students, so I didn't want a "normal"
selfie. So I immediately made a stupid face at the camera, and she glanced at
me, and click. That's the one I will share.</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQ-zDT17Bf_4STrCcv3zFMS_Q8Y1WsUk5pbaAFFXSMME_JMhk42UbuDpvXhLOaSrKN7maGwXWv1GYCzBewyA2C-BZx1b6Qk2wjCLuN-mE33k3KH1WDWodm4I8SMAxP_HB_TKoBZSXvcQ/s1600/2017-09-15+08.00.56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQ-zDT17Bf_4STrCcv3zFMS_Q8Y1WsUk5pbaAFFXSMME_JMhk42UbuDpvXhLOaSrKN7maGwXWv1GYCzBewyA2C-BZx1b6Qk2wjCLuN-mE33k3KH1WDWodm4I8SMAxP_HB_TKoBZSXvcQ/s640/2017-09-15+08.00.56.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BFFs. Obvs.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
We all sat down, and she asked our principal if he was going
to join us. He said, "I hadn't planned to, but since there's an extra
chair..." which happened to be right next to her, so he sat down at the
circle of tables.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
She made pleasantries, and asked about the school garden,
stuff like that. The principal said, "So, does anyone want to start?"
and opened it up to the floor, specifically inviting the students to talk.
There were murmurs of "nothing right now" and "I don't think
so." I was sitting between two student reps, and one of them is the most
outspoken person I know. Neither said anything. I had already resolved to keep
my big mouth shut, if a student wanted to talk. This is about them, after all,
and I wasn't going to eat up any of our precious 25 minutes (more like 20, if
you take out the intros and the garden talk) if they wanted the time with her.
They're not dumb. They're very savvy. They know what's going on in the world.</div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">So, now I think I'm caught up with the
first installment of this story, the one that starts with, <span style="margin: 0px;">"</span><span style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;">I'm having a hard time getting started. I'm still trying to
process. Maybe I can do this if I take it in small chunks." </span><span style="margin: 0px;">It ends with:</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">"By
then, I was so worked up with worry, anger, excitement, a fierce sense of
protecting that which is precious to me, a barf bag full of anxiety, a strange
air of desperation, and the distinct feeling of betrayal... well, I don't think
I was terribly successful at easing into the conversation. I said, "Well,
I'd like to hear about Title IX. Go ahead." </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">And
then I got *really* mad."</span></span><span style="margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background: white; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtYu0_wOYKWa8FVaS9x5tetgwe2BKhIxhTpnYORh02jhXl1k-LVdEfBsKc4qK2ThZ7VHIZsZHExhDboTq6331ssCQ342cwTb3cieicDezwIHhAYizIzOyW60EMM7Yqt63fx-8O2qwtIQ/s1600/Title+IX+protesters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="776" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDtYu0_wOYKWa8FVaS9x5tetgwe2BKhIxhTpnYORh02jhXl1k-LVdEfBsKc4qK2ThZ7VHIZsZHExhDboTq6331ssCQ342cwTb3cieicDezwIHhAYizIzOyW60EMM7Yqt63fx-8O2qwtIQ/s400/Title+IX+protesters.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wasn't the only one who wanted answers: Protesters outside KCA.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<b><u>Wed, 9-20-17</u></b></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">Episode 4: Back to the Present (which is actually the past,
but at least it's not a prequel)</span><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">In our last episode: "<span style="margin: 0px;">I said, "Well, I'd like to hear
about Title IX. Go ahead." </span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">And
then I got *really* mad."</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">***</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">DeVos
looked at me and stated, "About Title IX."</span></span></div>
<div style="background-attachment: scroll; background-clip: border-box; background-image: none; background-origin: padding-box; background-position: 0% 0%; background-repeat: repeat; background-size: auto; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">"Yes.
Title IX. Go ahead."</span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">"Okay," she
said. "Well. I will take a step back and say, more broadly, I think every
student should have an opportunity to find their place in a school that is
right for them and works for them, so I'm really excited - I know this is a
non-traditional school in, you know, the rest of the world's review, but I think
this is terrific that you guys have found a place that is right and fits for
you, and I couldn't be more happy and pleased for that, and really want to see
that opportunity for all students across the country. We've been on a Rethink
School tour this week, starting in Casper, Wyoming, and making our way across
the heartland of America, visiting lots of different schools that are doing things
creatively and differently, and the encouragement is really to rethink school,
because for too many kids, they're starting their academic year in a setting
that is very similar to what they did a hundred years ago, and that doesn't
work for everyone. So we're highlighting and learning from a lot of different
schools that are doing things to meet students' needs and help them find their
way and become everything they can be, And so, again, I'm really pleased to be
here at Kansas City Academy."</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">And then she stopped.
And looked at me. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">It was a stock
answer, obviously memorized by rote. It was practically a press release. But
maybe she just forgot the question? Did she get so wrapped up in the
introduction of her big tour that she went off the rails and didn't know how to
get back on? </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">So I figured I remind
her. "Great. So what about Title IX?" </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">And she asked, "Well,
what about it?"</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">Really? Is she saying
that she answered my question? Does she think she did? It was one week ago that
she made the incredibly controversial announcement that Title IX "wasn't
working" in sexual assault cases on college campuses, and that she
intended to overhaul it so that the accused got the benefit of the doubt. Which
they overwhelmingly, obscenely, nauseatingly do anyway. I mean, she gave a
30-minute speech about it, citing a handful of anecdotes as proof that the
thing needs to be torn down and built up again from scratch. The story was
everywhere. The public was furious She couldn't be that dense, right? I
strongly believe that she's tragically unqualified for the position she holds,
but it didn't occur to me that maybe she actually lacks intelligence. Or focus.
Or both.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<span style="margin: 0px;">So I said, "Well,
okay: What are your feelings? What are your thoughts? What are you wanting to
do about that?"</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
"Well, I - again - I think that every student should
have the opportunity to be in a school and in a</div>
learning environment is that is welcoming and is nurturing
and safe and that every student should<br />
be able to pursue their learning in a place that is building
up of them and - "<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
At this point, it's obvious that she's just playing dumb.
She's trying to avoid answering. She's dancing around the subject, in a little
presentation called "How Could I Possibly Know Which Part of Title IX You
Were Asking About?" She's using the tried-and-true hot words, like
"opportunity" and "different" and "individual," as
well as her catchphrases, which include "learning environment" and
the ever-popular "rethink school."<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Politicians love this. They love talking and not actually
saying anything, because they want to get reelected, so any chunk of the
population they might piss off, by saying something actually honest, is
precious to them. So no pissing off allowed, which is why election campaigns
sound overwhelmingly alike. </div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
It's a lame ploy, and it makes me really angry. Stand up for
your beliefs or shut up and give someone else your time. Even more lame though:
DeVos was not even elected. So she hasn't polished up her evasion tactic. She
isn't good at it.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
Whereas before, I was confused and only somewhat annoyed,
she's now removed all doubt that she's trying to play me. Play all of us. Does
she really think she's that clever? <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Does
she really think that I think that she's saying anything of substance? She
sucks at this game, and I won't pretend to play it anymore.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
So screw it. Screw her. If she insisted on playing cutesy,
then I owed it to my students, all students, their parents, and my fellow
educators to nail her to the damn wall. I was done playing nice. </div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
I interrupted her. "Okay, so, do you know you're not
answering the question?"</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
***</div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0px;">
To be continued...</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-63008583414196467552017-12-31T21:10:00.003-08:002017-12-31T21:10:59.311-08:00A toast! To ensemble!Allow me to rephrase an old saying:<br />
<br />
Those who can, do.<br />
Those who can't, often still do.<br />
Those who teach - my god - it's doing, only multiplied by 1000.<br />
<br />
I can, and I do. I can, and I also teach. Doing and <i>teaching</i> doing is... a lot. A <i>lot</i>, a lot.<br />
<br />
I teach at a tiny private school in south Kansas City, Missouri. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6jgKhNYV1XJxekOQwYv0eZbNO2dohHaueCYTF1XMSBnKcoiOTmbSmxpl-ug_KuwDoAsp74m27kJE8e0QSaFOT_RUIpt1SAJqJkhKntn8TeW-Zoq5J9-Fj9TdqgaBnDH9boGvcgxd1uM/s1600/zoolander.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="718" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq6jgKhNYV1XJxekOQwYv0eZbNO2dohHaueCYTF1XMSBnKcoiOTmbSmxpl-ug_KuwDoAsp74m27kJE8e0QSaFOT_RUIpt1SAJqJkhKntn8TeW-Zoq5J9-Fj9TdqgaBnDH9boGvcgxd1uM/s320/zoolander.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not this tiny.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
(A quick geography lesson, for you non-natives: KCMO is the big Kansas City. The one in Kansas - colloquially referred to as "KCK" - is a quarter of the size of KCMO. Also, for added confusion, it's just across the state line from KCMO. The Greater Kansas City area encompasses both, sort of like an egg with two yolks, only one yolk is way bigger than the other. Many a famous rock musician has pissed off the entire area by playing a large KCMO venue, and yelling, "Hello, Kansas!" We burn effigies for infractions like that.)<br />
<br />
Okay, so I teach at a tiny private school in south Kansas City, Missouri. It's called <a href="http://www.kcacademy.org/" target="_blank">Kansas City Academy</a>, and it means the world to me. Focus is on individual expression and responsible freedom, which is all I ever really wanted, since I believe that our job as educators is to help mold responsible, compassionate, and productive adults. <br />
<br />
I'm the entire theater staff.<br />
<br />
Since we're so small, I can't choose to do plays that require big casts, unlike most schools. No <i>Little Shop of Horrors</i>, no <i>You Can't Take It with You</i>, no <i>Midsummer Night's Dream. </i>So, this past semester, we did <i>Over the River and Through the Woods</i>. It has six characters. Four of them are Italian grandparents. Old people played by teens - now that's comedy!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEdtbWhgxYWk0Mb7wXzGFIHCnirRRfqcZykabzsCCt4zMEom8Zd11n2NSTvJpLiYVanJISDsgjnkhykpAxeqw4kWm5EpbpZhZUa0n3Jfd61dnCWIqyHxXuvVTJuco9LH1wKONYXSJI1s/s1600/2017-10-19+17.42.57-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnEdtbWhgxYWk0Mb7wXzGFIHCnirRRfqcZykabzsCCt4zMEom8Zd11n2NSTvJpLiYVanJISDsgjnkhykpAxeqw4kWm5EpbpZhZUa0n3Jfd61dnCWIqyHxXuvVTJuco9LH1wKONYXSJI1s/s400/2017-10-19+17.42.57-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Rehearsals are closed. This student wandered in, and I let him watch part of one rehearsal, </div>
<div>
mostly so the cast would know that they were funny to people who weren't just me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Actually, the entire cast did a great job, especially those who were exploring the physicality of elder characters. For one, it was the addition of a cane. For another, it was the shoes (ALWAYS the shoes!) and s-l-o-w-i-n-g down. For a third actor, it was the hat that did it, and another discovered the magic of the psychological gesture.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMPquu9W9UjrZPaJsfHhQoNaYESKcjpAgoOs57fEJulNmpb48F81c5Vgd81Xw7mvP9c4udQHXcDEaSeg-udoe7VHygbTFtx599gXkO5Il-kzs7h2d8cTjRTJZVIudbE58oNKKuDM4MTU/s1600/IMG_20171207_195452423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="1600" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDMPquu9W9UjrZPaJsfHhQoNaYESKcjpAgoOs57fEJulNmpb48F81c5Vgd81Xw7mvP9c4udQHXcDEaSeg-udoe7VHygbTFtx599gXkO5Il-kzs7h2d8cTjRTJZVIudbE58oNKKuDM4MTU/s400/IMG_20171207_195452423.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nan, this is Nan. Gramps, meet Gramps.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrYmErcj-VsRWc2nvP9dRE8FvdJpTGJZMBfFYzAC-CvPx0DkDPpVJiPdogdUZoVfP42c28WZf9m7uBrlJUc5DuY78U3p6ko5c4nJYJoF7enzG9evNEY31NWz9-DCdh9WX-VarRC34wAw/s1600/2017-12-06+17.47.09-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1230" data-original-width="1600" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwrYmErcj-VsRWc2nvP9dRE8FvdJpTGJZMBfFYzAC-CvPx0DkDPpVJiPdogdUZoVfP42c28WZf9m7uBrlJUc5DuY78U3p6ko5c4nJYJoF7enzG9evNEY31NWz9-DCdh9WX-VarRC34wAw/s400/2017-12-06+17.47.09-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That is my own personal hat. Actually, so are those glasses. I'm quite the fashion plate.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But it was how they all came together as an ensemble that was the very best part for me to watch.<br />
<br />
In my classes, I probably work on team-building more than anything else. It's vital in the theater. You can't do it alone. Everyone needs each other. It's not about you, personally. It's about the common goal. Each person is a magnificent cog in a magical machine. Remove that cog, and the machine stops working.<br />
<br />
Everyone relies on everyone else to do their job at best they can.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7AZeTlF0e5Ixe2k0O3kTfSXTxUbDDVN0SsKB6tR24FL0qNAcZgaFCWKyYSob2lgeCI05TLE-f_6oZP__2PeULD5MZ8TwffgkGyHJMuGvfSTY43sjKWA0SivG72Ak91l0WdvGBonfcsI/s1600/IMG_20171118_121426967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7AZeTlF0e5Ixe2k0O3kTfSXTxUbDDVN0SsKB6tR24FL0qNAcZgaFCWKyYSob2lgeCI05TLE-f_6oZP__2PeULD5MZ8TwffgkGyHJMuGvfSTY43sjKWA0SivG72Ak91l0WdvGBonfcsI/s320/IMG_20171118_121426967.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EVERYONE relies on EVERYONE else.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at all that relying going on!</td></tr>
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For one of the cast members of <i>Over the River</i>, this was his first play. And he had a major role. Understandably, he was really nervous. Most of the rest of the cast had two and three previous shows under their belts, so they're old pros. ;-) This new-to-the-stage cast member, when given a note, defaulted to literally saying, "I'm dumb."<br />
<br />
I, and his castmates, jumped on that, and tried everything to remind him that not knowing is different than being dumb, and he just didn't know these things yet.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgf_clPu6dHPk-5Mz77NEUsgjE8Kw3Wjy7hK8Ij_EI2zFQoyIKg-W3P-CgKGPZWCkSQ8Q-3VLnF2QKCng5sls7k_0c9dJEfN-1sw034OwZ309lHRs2qUScNeVpK5M_S6wdjhkt6fh6po/s1600/2017-10-05+18.48.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDgf_clPu6dHPk-5Mz77NEUsgjE8Kw3Wjy7hK8Ij_EI2zFQoyIKg-W3P-CgKGPZWCkSQ8Q-3VLnF2QKCng5sls7k_0c9dJEfN-1sw034OwZ309lHRs2qUScNeVpK5M_S6wdjhkt6fh6po/s400/2017-10-05+18.48.47.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">But don't listen to them if they tell you that wearing paper on your head is all the rage.</td></tr>
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But it wasn't until an older cast member said, "Listen. Every time you feel the urge to say, 'I'm dumb,' say 'I'm learning' instead." That was followed up quickly by the musings that that statement was equal parts cheesy and actually really good advice.<br />
<br />
So he did it. Every time he felt he screwed up, he started saying, "I'm... <i>learning</i>." And the rest of the cast would congratulate him. Once, he corrected himself on the fly, and called himself a "learning-ass."<br />
<br />
Did it make an actual difference in his feelings, his relationships in the show, his actor work, his performance? I have no idea. But the impact on everyone else was evident. The whole reason "I'm learning" even came about was because they were trying to make him feel comfortable, that mistakes happen. And in reminding him of this, they reminded everyone else. Including themselves.<br />
<br />
That's ensemble.<br />
<br />
I tell my students, "Be the person that you hope you have onstage with you when something goes wrong." Then I share the story of how I showed up to a performance, years ago, and was told that I was going on for a sick actor. I was not the understudy. I had less than 90 minutes to learn her part, including one of the best-known songs from the show (solo), get pinned into her costume, and also figure out which scenes I could portray my regular character, so as not to throw off any choreography timing. If it weren't for my dear, trustworthy castmates guiding me during that performance, it would not have gone well, at all. They were exactly who I needed them to be.<br />
<br />
I learned that that is who I want to be for others, when I'm onstage. And that is what I try to emphasize to my students: Be the person you want to have onstage with you, to help you when you need it. Know the show so well, that when something goes wrong - and something always goes wrong, it's live theater - you can do your part to get the machine running smoothly again.<br />
<br />
And then I got to watch it happen during a performance.<br />
<br />
When I see audience members before curtain for a show I direct, they often ask me if I'm nervous. I'm not. As a director, my job is over by opening night. It's all them, the cast and backstage crew. If something goes wrong, there's very little I can do about it. They have to rely on each other.<br />
<br />
In the tech booth, I flip to the next cue in my prompt book. But the student next to me, running sound, was following along in the script. When she looked at me in shock and informed me that two of the actors had actually traded lines onstage, I hadn't noticed. It was seamless.<br />
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She's smart and follows along in the script, so when I tell her "go," she makes the excellent decision to ignore me.</div>
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What had happened, they told me later, was this: Actor A was watching Actor B. Actor B was having difficulty with a prop, and was a split-second late with their line. So A jumped in with B's line. So B then completed it by saying A's line. And the scene went on.<br />
<br />
I don't think they realize how beautiful that moment was. B needed help. A was there. B took the help, then followed it up to make everything make sense. Perfect.<br />
<br />
Of course, it made this theater teacher's heart proud. But it also moves me on a human level.<br />
<br />
A was watching out for others.<br />
B needed help.<br />
A saw the need, and was there.<br />
B accepted the help, so everyone (not just A and B) was able to proceed.<br />
<br />
If A hadn't been watching out for others... or didn't offer help... If B hadn't accepted the help... or hadn't kept the momentum going...<br />
<br />
Extrapolate this, to a global scale.<br />
<br />
My friends, this is why arts education is so vital.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsGiQpz-FUAFR66dwTVWlbiOS_EsjTmyst66O4oSsdqQSNQ8zGbArVMUM_OjWPKSID3yrDu7LpLi_ZSjZH86CjMeXL1HWw2yD28CwYr7K3HaHZaIXqxYkalMseI5LkNWZ-g4hr7gn_is/s1600/IMG_20171208_193118021_BURST000_COVER_TOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1600" height="574" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsGiQpz-FUAFR66dwTVWlbiOS_EsjTmyst66O4oSsdqQSNQ8zGbArVMUM_OjWPKSID3yrDu7LpLi_ZSjZH86CjMeXL1HWw2yD28CwYr7K3HaHZaIXqxYkalMseI5LkNWZ-g4hr7gn_is/s640/IMG_20171208_193118021_BURST000_COVER_TOP.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To cranberry juice!</td></tr>
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-87215192064246342442017-08-03T13:57:00.001-07:002017-08-03T13:57:16.323-07:00I am a Failure.Now, don't argue with me on this title. I am a failure. I've failed. I will continue to fail. I will always, always fail.<br />
<br />
At least, I hope so.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RdhXO1m2E9Y-UiS25jWXOmRJ__3zOEdA_QUvyCm-LY3rtHPqwogJIOylSf7mDTjNDp4T1UH-3fIsugydDJWFMxqxBPeMhx-oi6dP9PZys3byfeOTePqoXOgXPAOG3-or8j7EjPwppx8/s1600/20160712_165330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="842" data-original-width="1600" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4RdhXO1m2E9Y-UiS25jWXOmRJ__3zOEdA_QUvyCm-LY3rtHPqwogJIOylSf7mDTjNDp4T1UH-3fIsugydDJWFMxqxBPeMhx-oi6dP9PZys3byfeOTePqoXOgXPAOG3-or8j7EjPwppx8/s400/20160712_165330.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not this kind of failure, though. This is a whole new level.</td></tr>
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<br />
<i>Variations on a Theme</i> closed Saturday. We did not win Best [Average Attendance] of Venue. That's happened before, and it's usually a fair bet that we will. We did not place in the Top Number/ Percentage of Total Attendance of the Festival. We had six performances: The first two were decent, attendance-wise, the second two were small houses, the fifth was good, and the sixth was strong. Those two in the middle hurt our chances of winning Venue, irreparably. But that's not what I was upset about.<br />
<br />
I was upset because I was working hard to get people to come see our show - my first solo-written production. I was upset because these people who agreed to join this project are remarkable, as people, as friends, as teammates, as skilled creatives, and I wanted more people to come appreciate them and their hard, hard work.<br />
<br />
And it was hard, hard work.<br />
<br />
There are productions where everything falls into place simply and beautifully. The schedule is simple, the work comes easily, and everyone loves each other and is ready to commit 1000%. Those productions are very rare. <br />
<br />
This was not one of those.<br />
<br />
There are productions where not everyone is on the same page, and even if there's plenty of politeness and such, some people just aren't excited to be there, and it rather casts a pallor over the entire experience. Those happen fairly often.<br />
<br />
This production was not one of those, either.<br />
<br />
There are productions where everything *should* be the right combination of people, schedules, temperaments, material... but they somehow just don't jibe. Those are not uncommon.<br />
<br />
Not that either.<br />
<br />
The rehearsal process for <i>Variations</i> was difficult. To begin with, the schedule was really hard to set. In fact, it was in constant flux. It was no one's fault, really, we're just a bunch of busy people with our own personal struggles that can't NOT affect what we're doing.<br />
<br />
A partial list of various Life Hurdles dealt with during this rehearsal process:<br />
Child care<br />
Rehearsals for other shows<br />
Commercial shoots<br />
Physical illness<br />
Physical injuries<br />
Mental illness<br />
Mental/emotional injuries<br />
Medication mix-ups<b></b><br />
Moving residences<br />
Day jobs<br />
Relationship difficulties<br />
Co-parenting difficulties<br />
Transportation troubles<br />
Out-of-town work trips<br />
Out-of-town family obligations<br />
<br />
These are not excuses. Everyone experiences this stuff. It's just life. But during this process, I became keenly aware that everyone single one of us who was putting this show together was going through extremely trying - life-changing, in fact - times. And yet, we all made it to rehearsal. Well, most of the time. I think everyone had at least one rehearsal that Life crushed as a possibility, for whatever reason. And then, there were lots of revised rehearsal calendars floating around, for a bunch of the other reasons.<br />
<br />
So it was not an easy rehearsal process. In fact, it was difficult. But we had this one thing going for us: Everyone wanted to be there. Even if depression was gnawing some of us from the inside out, we beat it back for a few hours to come to rehearsal. Even if someone had to go to one rehearsal for two hours across town, come to our rehearsal for three hours, then go back to the first one, they did it. I can't count how many time I hugged people, either as they showed up to rehearsal, or as they left, and one or both of us ended up crying.<br />
<br />
Because it's hard. Theater is hard. Life is hard. The two together can be almost impossible to navigate.<br />
<br />
But these inspiring people... They wanted to be part of this project. They wanted to be there, often to support each other, even if that was a blankets-over-your-head-because-the-world-is-too-big day.<br />
<br />
After the show opened, and I was away from everyone, I cried, because I'd failed: at publicity, at house counts, at review-receiving... at everything I could think of that measures success. I wanted this to pay off, at least emotionally, for my team, and I didn't think it was. Every single other show Bryan and I have ever done was in the Top Ten Best-Attended; we had THE best-attended show in 2010 and 2014. Nobody was coming to see this show, and it's surely because I'm a crappy writer with delusions of grandeur. (Mind you, <i>others</i> surely think that I have delusions of grandeur. I really far way away a lot don't feel that at all.)<br />
<br />
One day (okay, at least two days... um, three...), mid-run, I was in the shower and crying again. I suck. I can't do anything right. I've disappointed my cast and crew, I've disappointed the audience, I've disappointed the Fringe, I've disappointed myself. I don't know whether anything I've written is any good. I've blown it as a director, and I've absolutely tanked as a producer.<br />
<br />
Then I heard my past self tell others, "Fringe is a great place to fail."<br />
<br />
I've said it so many times. I've been quoted in articles as saying that. I even said it to another Fringe artist, just before the festival started this year. But I hadn't failed. All of our shows have done really well. All of them, since 2008. We took risks, sure, but they'd always paid off, some better than others. But I could say in bios and interviews, "All of our show have been in the Top Ten."<br />
<br />
Because that's success, you know.<br />
<br />
And saying that Fringe is a great place to fail, when you can say "blah blah blah, Top Ten every year," well, that's a little on the hypocritical side.<br />
<br />
And that's also an extremely narrow definition of success. In fact, it's not even <i>my</i> definition. It's how I think <i>others </i>will define success, and I claim it, so I can appear successful to them. Like, trying to be the cool kid at school, so others will like you. I hate that. And it never works anyway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a class="irc_mil i3597 i8d18wk1RSB0-zixyDjKkw5M" data-ctbtn="2" data-cthref="/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F247698048230442993%2F&psig=AFQjCNHXXDgKq1_I9ODqnEkevFGdCnX_bA&ust=1501871458192039" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F247698048230442993%2F&psig=AFQjCNHXXDgKq1_I9ODqnEkevFGdCnX_bA&ust=1501871458192039" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><img alt="Image result for something inspiring funny brosh" class="irc_mi" height="314" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/57/a4/03/57a40387d2b629bdbe88fb01fd36d82a.jpg" style="margin-top: 147px;" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The answer is always yes.</td></tr>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />
Sometimes, a student will ask me if I've ever been on Broadway. It feels like I'm being tested: Anything less than Broadway, and you're a hack. But truly, I never wanted that. No, I've never performed on Broadway. I don't even want to live in New York. But that's not the true measure of my success, because it never even sounded that appealing to me.<br />
<br />
I told myself, with the shower water running down my face, I need a new definition of success. Because I'm hearing beautiful things about this show. Not like people are going to tell me that it sucks or anything, to my face, but they're holding my hand... looking me straight in the eye... hugging me... whispering in my ear... tears welling up... This isn't being polite, this is being moved.<br />
<br />
It means something to them. The words I wrote, the team that created this production... <i>This is</i> <i>important. </i>This is what I love about theater. This team is creating a space for people to laugh and cry and think and feel. This is why we do what we do.<br />
<br />
<i>This</i> is my definition of success. <br />
<br />
But <i>this</i> is what failing apparently looks like, because house counts, "Best of," et cetera.<br />
<br />
So my success often looks like failing to others.<br />
<br />
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<a class="irc_mil i3597 i8d18wk1RSB0-zixyDjKkw5M" data-ctbtn="2" data-cthref="/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F247698048230442993%2F&psig=AFQjCNHXXDgKq1_I9ODqnEkevFGdCnX_bA&ust=1501871458192039" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwio6pyg2rvVAhVJ94MKHZlhB1MQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F247698048230442993%2F&psig=AFQjCNHXXDgKq1_I9ODqnEkevFGdCnX_bA&ust=1501871458192039" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
To people who are not me, it's easy to see that I'm not a "success," by the standard definition. I'm an individual, doing my own thing, with a few select, sincere, passionate, and hard-working friends surrounding me. They believe in me, and with their considerable help, we're able to create things that inspire others.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for I failed michael jordan" class="irc_mi" height="403" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/04/fd/ae/04fdaec72805f22c3e50009875c3526d--michael-jordan-quotes-michael-jordan-team.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 103px;" width="403" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Yeah, but can you explain the significance of the coin in </div>
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<i>Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead</i>? Didn't think so.</div>
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When I got out of the shower, still crying, but for different reasons now, I found a flood of texts from my dear friend, and <i>Variations</i> cast member, Marcie. At the very same time I was reframing this experience, she was too. Her new definition of success complemented mine. So I mashed them together.<br />
<br />
I am proud of this play. I am proud of my beautiful, tender, gentle, loving, hilarious, hard-working, tough team. I am proud of their work. Of our work, together.<br />
<br />
Was it perfect? Aw, hell, no. It never is. That's why we keep doing it. But was it meaningful? Very, very definitely.<br />
<b><br /></b>
House counts (which I never had any control over anyway) aside, I reached every one of the goals that I hadn't realized I'd set. That's because I'd set them my senior year in college, 1994.<br />
<br />
I was auditioning for the Kathleen Turner (yes, <i>that </i>one) Performance Scholarship. It was a big to-do: two monologues, a song, an essay, and an interview with the panel. I had no chance. I was up against the biggest deals in the department - people who are now on TV and in movies and, of course, on Broadway. But what the hell, right?<br />
<br />
During the interview, which took place with me still onstage after performing my audition pieces, I was asked something to the effect of, "Where do you see yourself in ten years?" (I hate that question. I have never been able to wrap my mind around it.) I answered that, if no one hired me, I'd create my own theater, even if it was "in a closet, with a friend shining a flashlight on me."<br />
<br />
I left the audition feeling good. I didn't know why. Because that certainly was not what anyone wanted to hear about my big plans for the future. But, screw it, theater was the important thing, no matter how it happened. I had no chance at this scholarship anyway. Right? Why try to sugarcoat?<br />
<i><br /></i>
When the department head came down to where I was working in the scene shop a couple of days later ("Put the paint can down first, Tara"), and told me I'd won, I screamed and jumped up and down and hugged him and laughed. It was just so preposterous. How could that even happen?<br />
<br />
One of my instructors (and panel members) caught me a few days after. She told me the reason that she voted for me <i>because</i> of my interview answer. I couldn't believe it. I'd been so... unambitious. She explained: "That's the attitude you <i>have</i> to have. That's exactly it. Create it yourself. Do it."<br />
<br />
What I thought was unambitious was actually very ambitious. I see that now.<br />
<br />
This production was a success in a hundred different ways, most of which people will never know about. Some people, maybe those who had shows in the Top Ten, might consider <i>Variations on a Theme</i> a failure. But that's an awfully narrow definition.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0alYljRhXL1qWc3thDuBtMFCJb3lQd3fWw70De1sWrjJff_SL_6QJJ4x611EP4Du9CipDVkB1gfZCpmucFp47Oq3KMpm6dSY38mqJyd-CfL5_5IhZW2JFTSKIvX6ieTUfy2yCLNBcPE/s1600/2017-07-29+19.32.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1289" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ0alYljRhXL1qWc3thDuBtMFCJb3lQd3fWw70De1sWrjJff_SL_6QJJ4x611EP4Du9CipDVkB1gfZCpmucFp47Oq3KMpm6dSY38mqJyd-CfL5_5IhZW2JFTSKIvX6ieTUfy2yCLNBcPE/s400/2017-07-29+19.32.07.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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The cast of <i>Variations on a Theme</i>: Mike Ott, Amy Hurrelbrink, Parry Luellen, Marcie Ramirez. </div>
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Not shown, because he's backstage, striking props: the lovely and talented Michael Golliher.</div>
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-6403942454605126132017-06-23T12:22:00.003-07:002017-07-07T07:04:06.528-07:00"Variations on a Theme." And "Variations on a Scene." Two titles, because two shows. <i></i><i></i>We're baaaa-aaack!<br />
<br />
After taking last year's Fringe Festival off (actually, not really - we just helped others with their projects), Bryan and I are plunging headlong into 2017's Fringe... with <i>two</i> shows.<br />
<br />
And I wrote them both.<br />
<br />
Ish.<br />
<br />
We're producing (and I'm directing) my play, <i>Variations on a Theme</i>. Bryan is heading the second project, <i>Variations on a Scene</i>. I expect many people to get confused by the titles as they travel... I mean, flock to... nay, <b>storm</b> the theatres to see them both. So I shall explain.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM8hQw245_tZj1dVw0Mp2n06YgSCAOqVT_tOnTp5MFxYHn1hVyMAef3lJ-nvCs2b8mCOrBfG4s5cGFoo2SRjLFN7bKFUM3P7nnu8gTtWMooyaKbQVdBCgYDm9vJbWRtI9j8xqpGYYISI/s1600/variations-on-a-theme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzM8hQw245_tZj1dVw0Mp2n06YgSCAOqVT_tOnTp5MFxYHn1hVyMAef3lJ-nvCs2b8mCOrBfG4s5cGFoo2SRjLFN7bKFUM3P7nnu8gTtWMooyaKbQVdBCgYDm9vJbWRtI9j8xqpGYYISI/s320/variations-on-a-theme.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
<i><b>Variations on a Theme</b></i><br />
<i></i>It all started the summer of 2009. I was preparing for <i>Lingerie Shop</i> rehearsal, our second foray into creating our own theater, via Fringe. I was putting out some snacks, but had to wash some dishes first. As I suds up a spoon, the thought hit me, very hard: These people trust me to wash dishes the way <i>they</i> would wash dishes. That seems like a given, I suppose, because everyone wants clean dishes, but I know some people who have displayed questionable dish-washing skills. I realized my cast <i>assumed</i> that I was going to do it the way they <i>expected</i> me to. I also realized that they would be rather upset with me - and for good reason - if they discovered that, say, I'd washed the dishes without using soap, or with cold water, or that I kept them in the hamper with dirty laundry, or something. <br />
<br />
Bryan and I had been living together for a couple of years at this point, and suddenly, any arguments we'd ever had (there aren't many to choose from, really) made sense. I learned to make oatmeal with milk and brown sugar; he makes oatmeal with water and butter. Clearly, he is wrong. <br />
<br />
This is a silly example, of course, but it essentially applies to everything that we disagree on: we are different people, with different experiences, but we assume that there's only one way to make oatmeal, because that's what we know. There's one way to wash dishes correctly. There's one way to raise a child. There's one way to best get to your driving destination. There's one way to make a grocery list (his is just a list of stuff, mine is a list of stuff in the approximate order in which you will encounter them in the store - which makes way more sense, duh). <br />
<br />
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However, we do agree on the really important stuff.</div>
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I discovered a link between this observation and a recurring stumbling block I encountered teaching acting classes. There's a standard improv game called "What Are You Doing?" It goes like this:<br />
<br />
<i>ACTOR 1 ties her shoes.</i><br />
ACTOR 2: What are you doing?<br />
ACTOR 1: I'm making lasagna.<br />
<i>ACTOR 2 starts "making lasagna."</i><br />
ACTOR 3: What are you doing?<br />
ACTOR 2: I'm vacuuming Jupiter.<br />
<i>ACTOR 3 starts "vacuuming Jupiter."</i><br />
ACTOR 4: What are you doing?<br />
ACTOR 3: I'm fishing for compliments.<br />
<i>And so on...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Sometimes, someone would say something that had multiple meanings, like "I'm painting a house." That could mean, "I'm using this paintbrush to apply paint and change the color of the exterior of this house." It could also mean, "I'm standing at an easel, with a palette in my hand, using this paintbrush to render an image of a house on this canvas." Which one is the correct interpretation? Both are, of course. The conflict arises when Actor 1 would tell Actor 2 that their interpretation was not the one they meant, and should change it to reflect the intention. No, no, no, Actor 1. Actor 2's interpretation is correct. You just assumed they would know what you meant. Hence, the link to my observation of different life experiences (and ambiguous phrasing!) leading to breakdowns in communication.<br />
<br />
Then, of course, there are outside reasons for communication issues as well: to-do lists, schedule conflicts, phone calls, emails, project deadlines, current surroundings, literally speaking different languages... and dark moments in one's past, such as abuse, a house fire, a car wreck, the death of a loved one, divorce...<br />
<br />
So this show's theme variations = road blocks to communication. Which isn't as heavy as it may sound, I swear. I mean, <i>Three's Company</i> ran for eight seasons, and every single episode was based on a misunderstanding.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a class="irc_mil i3597 it1m1_Drbejs-zixyDjKkw5M" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwiN9LW2u9TUAhVnw4MKHdytBRQQjRwIBw" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiN9LW2u9TUAhVnw4MKHdytBRQQjRwIBw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.slashfilm.com%2Fthrees-company-movie%2F&psig=AFQjCNHkIcQjFoOH9kimmUGnfCWNR--OsQ&ust=1498324332109806" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><img alt="Image result for threes company" class="irc_mi" height="200" src="https://i0.wp.com/media2.slashfilm.com/slashfilm/wp/wp-content/images/threescompany-trio.jpg" style="margin-top: 25px;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For real, though: There are 47 ways to interpret this photo alone. </td></tr>
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<i>Variations on a Theme</i> is nine unrelated two-person scenes, and in each, someone has something they need to say, but for some reason, can't. Most are funny. Some are not. For a couple of them, I challenged myself to write completely outside of my comfort zone.<br />
<br />
There's a cast of four incredibly dear, smart, dumbfoundingly talented people: Amy Hurrelbrink, Parry Luellen, Mike Ott, and Marcie Ramirez. Also, Michael Golliher is my assistant director, and is currently keeping me sane, because making theater, folks. It's nuts.<br />
<br />
<i><a href="https://kc-fringe.ticketleap.com/variations-on-a-theme-by-tara-varney/" target="_blank">Variations on a Theme</a></i> will be presented at the MTH Theater in Crown Center as part of the Kansas City Fringe Festival:<br />
<br />
Fri, July 21 at 8:00<br />
Sun, July 23 at 5:00<br />
Mon, July 24 at 6:30<br />
Tues, July 25 at 9:30<br />
Thurs, July 27 at 8:00<br />
Sat, July 29 at 6:30<br />
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<br />
<i><b>Variations on a Scene</b></i><br />
<b></b><i></i><i></i>I remember when I was doing my first play in high school, my dad asked me why it took so much time. I mean, every night? For weeks? I tried to explain about learning lines, and music, and choreography, and scene changes, and how that all multiplies by <i>x</i>-number of cast and crew members. Truly, at that point, I didn't know the half of it.<br />
<br />
Most non-theater people are pretty ignorant of how a production comes to be. Being ignorant is not a bad thing. I'm ignorant of what all goes into brain surgery and carpet installation and the stock market and making a soufflé. All of those things (and so many more) mystify me. And I'm not inclined to learn about those things either. Other things want my time and effort.<br />
<b><i></i><br /></b>
Bryan thought people might be interested in peeking in on the actor's process. Makes sense. I'm asked about it all the time. (Particularly, "How did you learn all those lines?!") But, you know, an <i>abbreviated</i> actor's process. Because other things want your time and effort.<br />
<br />
Now, if only we had a play that was made up of several short, stand-alone scenes... aha! <i>Variations on a Theme</i> will work just perfectly, thank you.<br />
<i><br /></i>
So <i>Variation on a *Scene*</i> puts two actors, Jay Coombes and Caroline Dawson, onstage, without having any idea what script they're about to be handed. They read it cold for the first time onstage, and the rest of the performance is them, rehearsing the same short scene, exploring the script, and making character and relationship choices.<br />
<br />
We did a test drive of this concept several months ago, using different actors and a different script.<br />
We got some good feedback. As it turns out, non-theater people <i>did</i> find the acting process interesting. As did the theater people we'd invited. It's interesting to note that each group thought the other group might not find it as compelling as they did, themselves. Hm. Assumptions based on past experiences, anybody?<br />
<br />
<i>Scene</i> is improv, but with a script. The words on the page are the only boundaries. Everything else is up for interpretation by the actors - <i>many</i> interpretations. Jay and Caroline will be given a different script for every performance, and they're not allowed to see <i>Theme</i> until after their last show. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into. *maniacal laugh*<br />
<br />
<i>Scene</i> will be performed at MTH's Stage 2 in Crown Center. You don't even have to leave the space to see <i>Scene</i> AND <i>Theme!</i> We totally did that on purpose, for your convenience. (No, we didn't. But it's awfully nice that it worked out that way.) Show times for <i><a href="https://kc-fringe.ticketleap.com/variations-on-a-scene-by-tara-varney/details" target="_blank">Variations on a Scene</a></i> are:<br />
<br />
Mon, July 24 at 6:00<br />
Tues, July 25 at 7:30<br />
Wed, July 26 at 9:00<br />
Fri, July 28 at 9:00<br />
Sat, July 29 at 4:30<br />
<i></i><br />
Tickets for all shows are $10, with a one-time purchase of a $5 Fringe button, that's yours to keep forever! (All the cool kids have one.) Tickets and buttons are available at the Fringe office on the lower level of Union Station, and at all venues.<br />
<br />
I'll be there, possibly at the bar, staving off my anxiety with Shirley Temples and popcorn. I'm so hard core.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a class="irc_mil i3597 im4RQeLYVE1g-zixyDjKkw5M" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwi2i7nj19TUAhWp44MKHa4SBsMQjRwIBw" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi2i7nj19TUAhWp44MKHa4SBsMQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.boylanbottling.com%2Fproduct%2Fshirley-temple%2F&psig=AFQjCNF_yAKeVfypKxLmjmcnPBpPBmwOLw&ust=1498331964518594" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><img alt="Image result for shirley temples drink popcorn" class="irc_mi" height="227" src="https://www.boylanbottling.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/shirley-temple-1.jpg" style="margin-top: 72px;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't believe I actually found an image that fit that search.</td></tr>
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-51321598192747114942017-04-14T08:27:00.000-07:002017-04-14T08:27:02.623-07:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 10Oh, I'm so ashamed. It's been far, far too long since I've posted good news for you (and me). <br />
<br />
If you're new here, this is the reason for this section of my blog: Everything sucks. At least, that's what the news would have you believe. That's how they make their ratings/money. Americans, in particular, looooove drama. Twenty-four-hour news, I suspect, now takes the place of soap operas, where we used to get our drama fixes. (That's a super-scientific claim, BTdubs. I have all kinds of memories and superficial observations to support it.)<br />
<br />
I need to remind myself that, really, there's far more good in the world than is popular to report. And maybe you need that too. And that's why "It's a Beautiful Day for Good News."<br />
<br />
I'm going to try to make a little change, due to recent feedback I've gotten regarding this blog. I'm told that posting many links at once - no matter how great they are - can be a little daunting to get through. So I'm now going to experiment with limited my shared stories per post, but then hopefully post more often.<br />
<br />
We'll see. If you have feedback - on anything of this - I'm happy to hear it.<br />
<br />
Strangers leave server a <a href="http://www.msn.com/en-us/news/good-news/strangers-leave-waitress-dollar400-tip-then-an-even-bigger-surprise/ar-BBzOLTh?li=BBmkt5R&ocid=spartanntp" target="_blank">$400 tip</a> - and that's just the beginning.<br />
<br />
Officials wouldn't allow a teen <a href="http://www.msn.com/en-us/sports/more-sports/a-muslim-girl-wasn%E2%80%99t-allowed-to-box-in-a-hijab-so-her-opponent-shared-victory-with-her/ar-AAkDdKw?li=BBmkt5R&ocid=spartanntp" target="_blank">athlete</a> to box in a hijab, so her opponent protested.<br />
<br />
Dads show their love and support by participating in their daughters' <a href="http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/entertainment/WATCH-Philly-dads-dance-with-daughters-at-Philadelphia-Dance-Centers-Valentines-ballet-class.html" target="_blank">ballet </a>classes. <br />
<br />
Bonus: cat comic.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a class="irc_mil i3597 iW2hit_JfyJM-zixyDjKkw5M" data-noload="" data-ved="0ahUKEwi_55P6n6TTAhUozoMKHWlGA8IQjRwIBw" href="https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi_55P6n6TTAhUozoMKHWlGA8IQjRwIBw&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F309270699393803272%2F&psig=AFQjCNEDjZPFIWEMZSP0IcwgrQZfSnYATw&ust=1492269655774467" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk" rel="noopener" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" tabindex="0" target="_blank"><img alt="Image result for cat cartoon head "good place to sit"" class="irc_mi" height="400" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/10/89/f8/1089f8ddc8568d68a9ad371559b4ca50.jpg" style="margin-top: 22px;" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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Marcie sent me this, because my face is evidently a comfy place for my cat to relax.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-54244898863835122312016-12-29T10:16:00.000-08:002017-01-01T14:05:35.629-08:002016: My Year in Review2016. There's a lot of talk about how much it's sucked. I see that; I understand.<br />
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A lot of artists that truly impacted my life died this year. Not to be insensitive or pessimistic, but it's not going to get better in 2017. See, age happens. Every day, we all come closer to the end of our lives. That's just how it is. Those that we look up to are generally older than we are, so we're bound to witness the end of some lives. It's no fun, but it's not because 2016 sucked any more than any other year. I'm trying to remind myself that birth is as common as death, and think of all the people born this year who are going to change the world. That's comforting, and vitally important. We are responsible for making sure they don't lose the creativity that's inherent in all tiny humans.</div>
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My own personal 2016 has been a mixed bag too. I started it with a severe ankle sprain and broken wrist bones, and so spent a lot of time with doctors and therapists. The good things that came from that include the lesson of asking for help (again), the knowledge that I hate Vicodin (though it does take care of that pesky pain), and the massive fun of telling every student a different story when asked me what happened (including "BMX," "ostrich racing," and "rival caroling gangs"). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQymbY9MuXsAnh0DL5iwHcptsKAhGwvajhfXONYT9QaJnseMBnmYVX-dHGLRycD8iv9NekkklJUs-qDDxd_cIhDKK8TIFgSnjlAHqAmZwUsp-suMkl5Xhr5cgyJRw8RoqNZDL5D5ObuVg/s1600/2016-01-07+13.54.27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQymbY9MuXsAnh0DL5iwHcptsKAhGwvajhfXONYT9QaJnseMBnmYVX-dHGLRycD8iv9NekkklJUs-qDDxd_cIhDKK8TIFgSnjlAHqAmZwUsp-suMkl5Xhr5cgyJRw8RoqNZDL5D5ObuVg/s400/2016-01-07+13.54.27.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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Also, the nurse who made my cast responded to my question, </div>
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"I only get to choose one color?" with, "Nope."</div>
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So there's good, even inside the bad. </div>
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And on that note, here are some of my personal/professional (because they're the same thing, in my life) accomplishments for the closing year:</div>
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<b>I directed:</b></div>
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- Project Pride's <i>Gears and Queers</i> (co-directed)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAQVUSfJ2kRNnVRntICOJ78xGNfIjMRSorAmNJAA4vnUiMieVXGo1tSLAcFU0O8RHeIRCZGo_Fn7z_VCNBU0LFVKf_KR-PkmvzYm5FShhod_DuPS2vDUkv96dl8AmXQIUXVTXTLj4_nI/s1600/2016-03-01+19.59.22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAQVUSfJ2kRNnVRntICOJ78xGNfIjMRSorAmNJAA4vnUiMieVXGo1tSLAcFU0O8RHeIRCZGo_Fn7z_VCNBU0LFVKf_KR-PkmvzYm5FShhod_DuPS2vDUkv96dl8AmXQIUXVTXTLj4_nI/s400/2016-03-01+19.59.22.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Project Pride is one of the best things I've ever done. I love these brave and loving young people so hard.</td></tr>
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- <i>Mimi Dafoe: True Confessions of an Aging Starlet</i>, by Kevin King, for KC Fringe<br />
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Starring Devon Barnes and Bonita Hanson. They are insanely beautiful, </div>
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intelligent, talented, hardworking, funny, kind, and generous people. I love them.</div>
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Also, the lovely and talented Julie Denesha interviewed me about my love affair with <a href="http://kcur.org/post/actor-director-playwright-tara-varney-kc-fringe-its-seat-your-pants-theater#stream/0" target="_blank">Fringe</a>.<br />
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- <i>Almost, Maine</i>, the fall semester school play. Yes, it's sweet. It's also deeply moving and hella smart. I'm going to have to direct it again. And I'm beyond proud of the dedication of these students, and their growth as actors and technicians.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYiP04XKYsHwA0N6bC7ncFet-5eMYEiZYwRUugPiG8wllsQcdpUdGXGEW2EFZ8Kx7v1JpHJ9HlkLmmhvLV8_2rVku8Dae4Sau-Iks26fzLt2tgnZ6jQaL5an-bEWDhYH8GfD5sT6_eNQ/s1600/2016-12-07+20.23.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-Aflwjhu6qTyjKCL2AG23Rotgpi9Mv0gTaTU4POpMvC8Y80adaeMgQ6VKRvWdFbiieqhvTtKgsx-qDAhMYrV2CBqRm-VQn66jEJ90xhq_8ODnWUmK7sUusejnOOV-HU5n2IrIhyphenhyphen7Au0/s1600/2016-12-08+19.41.31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-Aflwjhu6qTyjKCL2AG23Rotgpi9Mv0gTaTU4POpMvC8Y80adaeMgQ6VKRvWdFbiieqhvTtKgsx-qDAhMYrV2CBqRm-VQn66jEJ90xhq_8ODnWUmK7sUusejnOOV-HU5n2IrIhyphenhyphen7Au0/s320/2016-12-08+19.41.31.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYiP04XKYsHwA0N6bC7ncFet-5eMYEiZYwRUugPiG8wllsQcdpUdGXGEW2EFZ8Kx7v1JpHJ9HlkLmmhvLV8_2rVku8Dae4Sau-Iks26fzLt2tgnZ6jQaL5an-bEWDhYH8GfD5sT6_eNQ/s1600/2016-12-07+20.23.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYiP04XKYsHwA0N6bC7ncFet-5eMYEiZYwRUugPiG8wllsQcdpUdGXGEW2EFZ8Kx7v1JpHJ9HlkLmmhvLV8_2rVku8Dae4Sau-Iks26fzLt2tgnZ6jQaL5an-bEWDhYH8GfD5sT6_eNQ/s320/2016-12-07+20.23.09.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a0kCyf2tPb91QgtLZ04zabMW_mJfYVsiM_e-DZDWEECTzF3-36fKr0QZoamx6DvYr4Qpr13cThcwYwKuJh6ajcHfO67bCjK6_Ure13H-ja_WGP5QUWUeRM83A3pp2MKOv9TegDix04k/s1600/2016-12-09+20.13.55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9a0kCyf2tPb91QgtLZ04zabMW_mJfYVsiM_e-DZDWEECTzF3-36fKr0QZoamx6DvYr4Qpr13cThcwYwKuJh6ajcHfO67bCjK6_Ure13H-ja_WGP5QUWUeRM83A3pp2MKOv9TegDix04k/s400/2016-12-09+20.13.55.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>I performed in:</b></div>
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- "Now Grieve, Now Stop," my brilliant friend Laura Isaac's performance piece</div>
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- <i>Baddest Auditions</i>, at KC Fringe, in which I continued to evolve a character from the previous two installations. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI9j_MvUzxpqu0DcHba2YPUdiPCxTee1ojgUOHaEMWsGUkSu7GuiciSs5l8wRAe-fWSoAANAOJsQApQ4BzECz8e-nlfK9cpwfbZPuCcqJ-DiVXwVhPGuUpxsx-gMDi-hBIsfNQCOcHZQ/s1600/2016-12-29+10.08.46.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSI9j_MvUzxpqu0DcHba2YPUdiPCxTee1ojgUOHaEMWsGUkSu7GuiciSs5l8wRAe-fWSoAANAOJsQApQ4BzECz8e-nlfK9cpwfbZPuCcqJ-DiVXwVhPGuUpxsx-gMDi-hBIsfNQCOcHZQ/s400/2016-12-29+10.08.46.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
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My character went by the name "Dysmenorrhea." </div>
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Two people understood the joke. One was my mom. </div>
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<b>I wrote:</b></div>
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- "MegaDamnGurl," a script for a devised scene in <i>Gears and Queers</i></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>- "Clickbait" (ditto)<br />
- "The Lost Generation" (ditto ditto)<br />
- "Blood Moon II," a short piece of a larger piece that doesn't know yet what it's going to be when it grows up.<br />
- "Royals" (same)<br />
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Yeah, no scripts, but I've been researching some story ideas that are flittering around in my brain.<br />
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<b>I A'ed some Qs for:</b><br />
-The Unicorn's staged reading on our newly-expanded script for <i><a href="http://www.taravarney.com/2016/05/the-unicorn-theatres-staged-reading-of.html" target="_blank">Sexing Hitler</a>. </i><br />
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<b>I drew:</b><br />
Among other random things...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVNlS7OLDIyIDEfvDoFbcyEzPWyVGbmBie9xU3M745AF5YPTnzkmDgxWHywFrBBBJebRWppGko3XuJF7649h3BjXDPJ3y2s9ZBo7t5tj6KBSHYyP1lK8J4KP8SGBvtttPiRRiLduqKu4/s1600/It%2527s+What+I+Could+Do+For+My+Country+at+War.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVNlS7OLDIyIDEfvDoFbcyEzPWyVGbmBie9xU3M745AF5YPTnzkmDgxWHywFrBBBJebRWppGko3XuJF7649h3BjXDPJ3y2s9ZBo7t5tj6KBSHYyP1lK8J4KP8SGBvtttPiRRiLduqKu4/s400/It%2527s+What+I+Could+Do+For+My+Country+at+War.jpg" width="330" /></a></td></tr>
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<i>It's What I Could Do for My Country at War,</i> Tara Varney, 2016</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6PXKTM_6EU6VcHbc_uiAPlgKdSq3hjOraqO5U01V4_K99Sb1sHmuXYLqC-esaLH4LePw4P0RTzBsyupfGaYYXZFqlb5LbHs79GctXwBZ45OwKaXcabeQ-EheZNuAEdVMt11MiO3W3-k/s1600/Childhood+is+Where+the+Die+is+Cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu6PXKTM_6EU6VcHbc_uiAPlgKdSq3hjOraqO5U01V4_K99Sb1sHmuXYLqC-esaLH4LePw4P0RTzBsyupfGaYYXZFqlb5LbHs79GctXwBZ45OwKaXcabeQ-EheZNuAEdVMt11MiO3W3-k/s400/Childhood+is+Where+the+Die+is+Cast.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<i>Childhood is Where the Die is Cast</i>, Tara Varney, 2016</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgD6NX6VEXU1AFIGXg1VyHn0D4c6HHBA72mI8Z1Bj8CHC0YpZoweDEY7zHsgrX5YtpuZHgwgETMqzOnlHeM0zDLvkFiUbaMZStRyzsWaQCw3e5HRjmEKp6qw6TEq0n8PI5tO3-rJ8xa0k/s1600/At+the+Feeder%2521+Two+of+Them%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgD6NX6VEXU1AFIGXg1VyHn0D4c6HHBA72mI8Z1Bj8CHC0YpZoweDEY7zHsgrX5YtpuZHgwgETMqzOnlHeM0zDLvkFiUbaMZStRyzsWaQCw3e5HRjmEKp6qw6TEq0n8PI5tO3-rJ8xa0k/s400/At+the+Feeder%2521+Two+of+Them%2521.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<i>At the Feeder! Two of Them!,</i> Tara Varney, 2016</div>
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I've also been working on a mural at school, in the hall outside of the theatre, in my "spare" time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJwk2VU050ocFbAxEqDJkmX0_KWLGxJYVUZ5Wi9chAjlv-29xcBnrnPsNo431zQKPsKyGZfIZ1Gp9lh5esgz76dkcUJLN_Cr-kP0pxw_MiTEWSt7bdVcqQkzpRl2oETMilJ_hkidfgZY/s1600/2016-08-17+11.20.07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHJwk2VU050ocFbAxEqDJkmX0_KWLGxJYVUZ5Wi9chAjlv-29xcBnrnPsNo431zQKPsKyGZfIZ1Gp9lh5esgz76dkcUJLN_Cr-kP0pxw_MiTEWSt7bdVcqQkzpRl2oETMilJ_hkidfgZY/s640/2016-08-17+11.20.07.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't judge! It's not finished! </td></tr>
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<b>I sang:</b><br />
For my - I don't know - twelfth? season, as a Dickens Caroler.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis41PTKMwRiN9fnYuzgvCdh61EP78ZNI0zWIgSOJyDcA-TQy_qYkJcxX1GrhG7BBNrDXmbBHGNEes9BTt1lSYOzHQjpIBOo3a-uvhMzxBSOLE7YdYyDjMfKUWfbUf5WOcruQZsRsJ8c4k/s1600/2016+Hallbrook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis41PTKMwRiN9fnYuzgvCdh61EP78ZNI0zWIgSOJyDcA-TQy_qYkJcxX1GrhG7BBNrDXmbBHGNEes9BTt1lSYOzHQjpIBOo3a-uvhMzxBSOLE7YdYyDjMfKUWfbUf5WOcruQZsRsJ8c4k/s640/2016+Hallbrook.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love this job. And these people. And this Santa.</td></tr>
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<b>I taught:</b><br />
- Intro to Theatre (middle and high school), at Kansas City Academy<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VxYB3gOpr7lBCyllm1dE4DvvLxitdN-pzhw62fHINK9frhjXR9r_cenQkmJGbNPOG1a8_kzQiZC1S_Zk7dVJ_wDTHgZJl9xh_qbGzfMHvEL5dMS6plH-Xx5gBdBPsqpsa2wQRFxfQTk/s1600/2016-01-21+15.00.58-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1VxYB3gOpr7lBCyllm1dE4DvvLxitdN-pzhw62fHINK9frhjXR9r_cenQkmJGbNPOG1a8_kzQiZC1S_Zk7dVJ_wDTHgZJl9xh_qbGzfMHvEL5dMS6plH-Xx5gBdBPsqpsa2wQRFxfQTk/s400/2016-01-21+15.00.58-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah. I don't even know.</td></tr>
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- Theatre Study (HS), at KCA<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVGYGYGKqTtJEx55oetgnoehT9ttq0ksUZCjAhFiaj4RD-HwwehHQZRm1yb_weiuM1tD7jts9L4M9epxCSUtYjKh2FGSTN-i6GtCWWSFt9yc9AZ1ofKUe_0DsJuvVwKVHpi14QkKhOJo/s1600/2016-12-12+13.56.53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguVGYGYGKqTtJEx55oetgnoehT9ttq0ksUZCjAhFiaj4RD-HwwehHQZRm1yb_weiuM1tD7jts9L4M9epxCSUtYjKh2FGSTN-i6GtCWWSFt9yc9AZ1ofKUe_0DsJuvVwKVHpi14QkKhOJo/s400/2016-12-12+13.56.53.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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High school theatre students taking a test. Because you might as well be comfy. And/or in a box.</div>
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- Theatre (MS), at KCA<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U9PrJw1k_CEFdRqUw9In5wR_z3Sy0iv7zNgG2YKSLSQcDlXqxNH4ujqXFjx2bv1QDpOijyLwg2jvQ4lXODDWU6VRuS5XpdXvP2WDLHhpV0HJVwaHdx3DP7ey01f7Z2jAiiSMl2_PKWU/s1600/2016-09-16+13.17.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-U9PrJw1k_CEFdRqUw9In5wR_z3Sy0iv7zNgG2YKSLSQcDlXqxNH4ujqXFjx2bv1QDpOijyLwg2jvQ4lXODDWU6VRuS5XpdXvP2WDLHhpV0HJVwaHdx3DP7ey01f7Z2jAiiSMl2_PKWU/s400/2016-09-16+13.17.35.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Okay, this isn't a picture from theatre <i>class</i>, but sometimes you just need a puppy break.</div>
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- "Search the Sea," a Coterie acting exploration class for 2nd-4th-graders<br />
- "Ready, Set, Act," another Coterie class for 5th-7th grade actors<br />
- "Acting for Dancers," a workshop conceived with my inspiring friend Amy Hurrelbrink<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqpomPuFsoUFp-NBfKIc5BQuneWE4kxg2azua9NDZHFNIzPf779815JQucY2KAlJg0-ObTLDgImZGzi6LbVBTOUNHuIULLvx_9DyBOaKo3xbCM8Cb62GNxqqo6dYbaKqXffkEnTJ_FBU/s1600/2016-12-03+11.06.25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsqpomPuFsoUFp-NBfKIc5BQuneWE4kxg2azua9NDZHFNIzPf779815JQucY2KAlJg0-ObTLDgImZGzi6LbVBTOUNHuIULLvx_9DyBOaKo3xbCM8Cb62GNxqqo6dYbaKqXffkEnTJ_FBU/s400/2016-12-03+11.06.25.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Amy is intelligent, talented, gorgeous, professional, imaginative, and courageous. </div>
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And a goofball. In other words, perfect.</div>
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- "Audition Lab" - actually two sessions - a Coterie summer camp<br />
- Two "Fantasy and Gore Makeup" sessions, also a Coterie summer camp<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubbpH_LyU7oAR3okl8CvOmBuDcJvUoV6MwCQJqYagW65YJaCkiNYYZDVsDzHw2Wv0LAQ1F7j2I9_1xi-Hz79fG0bq1MGww1rkZVlmI-S2g7n9xMYTMwAgAUgCyRE8bW3p8O9bQIAxz2k/s1600/2016-07-01+14.34.37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgubbpH_LyU7oAR3okl8CvOmBuDcJvUoV6MwCQJqYagW65YJaCkiNYYZDVsDzHw2Wv0LAQ1F7j2I9_1xi-Hz79fG0bq1MGww1rkZVlmI-S2g7n9xMYTMwAgAUgCyRE8bW3p8O9bQIAxz2k/s640/2016-07-01+14.34.37.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glutton for self-makeup-punishment.</td></tr>
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- "Summer Term at Hogwarts," Coterie summer camp, and ohmygod, so fun! (But then, I'm a Ravenclaw, so...)<br />
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Oh, the potion ingredients were all perfectly edible, and even tasty... at least, separately.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Potions class.</td></tr>
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- "Legends and Mythmakers," a Coterie spring class<br />
- "Magic Tree House," Coterie - pretty much entirely devised by the 2nd-4th-graders in the class. Fun, but so. exhausting.<br />
- "Scenes with Sherlock Holmes," Coterie<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">...which brings my count, since 2012, when I thought to start keeping track, to </span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">964 </span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">acting,</span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">stage makeup, theatre exploration, and playwriting students. Dang. How is that possible?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
I'm currently spending most of my time researching lesson plans for my spring classes at KCA and The Coterie, but I have some script ideas that need attention too. If anyone has an extra couple of hours per day they're not using, I swear I'll fill them up with good, solid arts education and thoroughly-researched original scripts.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I Did on My Winter Vacation</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YdwfmgA1-FITEonu9QWj44R0lzg9ZGvCYcIKoYGpmQ9wnL5ReZ-tLi2lZT6B2VwWldi7z7nIT5pBMdPUqkNucP1jE2Mi7MdtPqb6OPzeXjDvfZds_acQDVeimGRUPNjjtd0TZiiOgak/s1600/2016-12-29+11.57.20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YdwfmgA1-FITEonu9QWj44R0lzg9ZGvCYcIKoYGpmQ9wnL5ReZ-tLi2lZT6B2VwWldi7z7nIT5pBMdPUqkNucP1jE2Mi7MdtPqb6OPzeXjDvfZds_acQDVeimGRUPNjjtd0TZiiOgak/s400/2016-12-29+11.57.20.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm ignoring the fact that I'm their only theater teacher.</td></tr>
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May your 2017 be bright.<br />
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-3063836901858774112016-05-09T08:01:00.001-07:002016-05-09T08:13:54.750-07:00The Unicorn Theatre's Staged Reading of "Sexing Hitler" <div class="regulartext">
<b>The year is 1941. German soldiers in occupied territories are contracting syphilis from prostitutes in astounding numbers. The disease threatens the stability of the Third Reich. To solve the problem, Adolf Hitler orders the creation of inflatable pleasure dolls that the soldiers can carry in their packs to satisfy their urges. </b></div>
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<span class="italic"><i><b>Yes, this is a true story.</b></i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTzjlg84f6m_zudwfZXFLtIf_0dU48qYzRdRRgaLDNjlzQrVRXr2z1A7wql9rJNkkDVT-qkhXyIRjNOqXO7Kudmoz56QMwJ_LH7n8NozKUwOql0yUW4xrNu8pM7HoBs40h5P7JYvG8AA/s1600/sexing-hitler-ad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUTzjlg84f6m_zudwfZXFLtIf_0dU48qYzRdRRgaLDNjlzQrVRXr2z1A7wql9rJNkkDVT-qkhXyIRjNOqXO7Kudmoz56QMwJ_LH7n8NozKUwOql0yUW4xrNu8pM7HoBs40h5P7JYvG8AA/s400/sexing-hitler-ad.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some businesses did not particularly want us to put our poster up. Go figure.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">Bryan and I wrote <i>Sexing Hitler</i> to present at the KC Fringe Festival in 2012. When we started gathering the team to work on it, we knew we were taking a gamble. It was based on a great historical tidbit, but what we were planning was new ground for us.</span></div>
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<span class="italic">First, we asked our good friend and previous cast member, dancer/choreographer Amy Hurrelbrink, if she thought that it would be possible to tell the story of various relationships/sexual fantasies solely through dance. She answered, "Ummm... I don't know. Let's try it."</span></div>
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<span class="italic">Love that woman.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z01wT6zDqMZmcjPzABJ8gJ56LEkESpaM8jLBXFcooxjJt6aRNhyvabGo6nEM311_OfXKziu2dd2LKHQiq9vt7NQXhFVKn5kgHDNKN_0WsJRbkNyIhOyoab7vTXFoCvHiI0qZjYK6noY/s1600/sexingtech-061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Z01wT6zDqMZmcjPzABJ8gJ56LEkESpaM8jLBXFcooxjJt6aRNhyvabGo6nEM311_OfXKziu2dd2LKHQiq9vt7NQXhFVKn5kgHDNKN_0WsJRbkNyIhOyoab7vTXFoCvHiI0qZjYK6noY/s400/sexingtech-061.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The scantily-dressed one. That's Doll Amy in action.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">Then I thought, Wait. Does it make sense to create original choreography, for an original play, and cram it into previously-recorded music? No, no, it does not.</span></div>
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<span class="italic">Knowing the style we were going for, I approached Alacartoona, a local band with a fantastic pseudo-German cabaret style. Not everyone was available for a project that Bryan and I couldn't really describe anyway, and I'd just barely met them to begin with, but Christian Hankel and Kyle Dahlquist decided to jump in. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andy Garrison, as Himmler, talks to Christian Hankel, as one of the many experts of eugenics of the time, with musical accompaniment by Kyle Dahlquist, Richard Walker, and Sergio Moreno. And their drinks.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">At the same time, we were putting the cast together. We</span><span class="italic"> wrote the script with the voices of Marcie Ramirez and Parry Luellen, both beautiful and giving actors, in our heads. We knew them to be reliable, supportive, challenging-in-a-good-way, and ready for just about anything. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-MSMKJWvIJCkNOesJ-ueBno7ExwdcFQ2PeWBQkvWoeBwPWs-PrvjyuKksO2gAYVaU06WR511mxk_550PaX2cUOtab5cyTo-lzODcGu7VGkpY-lz-y9FadJkLrwBhse45GJuC3Gohhfs/s1600/DSC_0067-002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-MSMKJWvIJCkNOesJ-ueBno7ExwdcFQ2PeWBQkvWoeBwPWs-PrvjyuKksO2gAYVaU06WR511mxk_550PaX2cUOtab5cyTo-lzODcGu7VGkpY-lz-y9FadJkLrwBhse45GJuC3Gohhfs/s400/DSC_0067-002.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Concentrate... look at ME... not the doll's... parts...</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">Then, Andy Garrison, an actor and acting teacher, whom we knew and were friendly with, and had seen perform, but had never actually worked with before. Previously, though, he'd been fairly brutally honest about another play of ours that didn't quite work for him, and we so appreciated that he took that risk. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">Okay, great, but we needed someone to play the Soldier. This turned out to be really, really hard. We needed someone who could play several different characters, and dance. Dance well. And be available. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">We auditioned so many people, but none of them were the right one. I contacted an actor/dancer that Amy and I had worked with a few years before, Eric Tedder. Turns out, he has just gotten back into the country, from shooting a movie in Hong Kong, and was looking for a project. I auditioned him. He was everything we'd wanted. And more.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDjj6ZaoasrB4HULy6B4lKxUqowXkdpeWYESl18uHoAYmP_1IrdArf7ZuBAxAW4y88ZmyNVfgu0En2oKi8r9Sd6GY1xR8eeOojdXyz5RFzNrh4iCGyeA4xD0ksnuA8WjVAXviMI419Pg/s1600/DSC_0027-003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDjj6ZaoasrB4HULy6B4lKxUqowXkdpeWYESl18uHoAYmP_1IrdArf7ZuBAxAW4y88ZmyNVfgu0En2oKi8r9Sd6GY1xR8eeOojdXyz5RFzNrh4iCGyeA4xD0ksnuA8WjVAXviMI419Pg/s400/DSC_0027-003.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd like to introduce myself: I am your dream come true.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic"><span class="italic">Bryan and I had written the script, but right before the first read-through, he suggested that we not give the cast the climactic scene. If this was to be a true collaboration, he said, we would let the team come up with the ending. I was scared, but he was right. Ultimately, the team came up with a much, much stronger ending than the one we wrote.</span></span><br />
<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-D9mQe72X1_ONTEi5ogmX2_egoZVFsO7K3tKwsdxLIVYt0p6culXZ9DWh90SbOGaTo1e-o1wUgXPnLR2c-ZoWY3qh4v0GgOMuxPvig5wamin5SaOMjEKmLsh2bOYDef7WBexpnAKyJs/s1600/sexinghitler-061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><br /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-D9mQe72X1_ONTEi5ogmX2_egoZVFsO7K3tKwsdxLIVYt0p6culXZ9DWh90SbOGaTo1e-o1wUgXPnLR2c-ZoWY3qh4v0GgOMuxPvig5wamin5SaOMjEKmLsh2bOYDef7WBexpnAKyJs/s1600/sexinghitler-061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-D9mQe72X1_ONTEi5ogmX2_egoZVFsO7K3tKwsdxLIVYt0p6culXZ9DWh90SbOGaTo1e-o1wUgXPnLR2c-ZoWY3qh4v0GgOMuxPvig5wamin5SaOMjEKmLsh2bOYDef7WBexpnAKyJs/s400/sexinghitler-061.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: Andy Garrison, Amy Hurrelbrink, Eric Tedder, Marcie Ramirez, Parry Luellen, Kyle Dahlquist.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic"><span class="italic">The first read-through was stressful for me, because hell, I didn't know what we were getting into. It turned out that Christian and Andy both knew a thing or two about WWII, and they were asking questions that made me nervous, because even after all of my research on this particular topic, they knew more about the war overall. </span></span></div>
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<span class="italic">Ohgod, ohgod, they know I'm a fraud. I don't know what I'm doing. They're going to quit, and this will never happen, and I'll be exposed as the amateur I am, and my career (what there is of it) will be destroyed, because I'm stupid and talentless and misguided and an impostor. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">Spoiler Alert: That didn't happen.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3d8-bwuYI_oTD-l_pOSzIlOEcj6lyNpIHlIogtqqrNmGVWDXwCaATdAEeKrzsypdZnyyTGqVmerPe1d1eVctXRDYom-omhBXCZ4-svQP2IStudbWVCmnmIjsnthdN0lk-z8V3hAAh8E/s1600/sexingtech-036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3d8-bwuYI_oTD-l_pOSzIlOEcj6lyNpIHlIogtqqrNmGVWDXwCaATdAEeKrzsypdZnyyTGqVmerPe1d1eVctXRDYom-omhBXCZ4-svQP2IStudbWVCmnmIjsnthdN0lk-z8V3hAAh8E/s400/sexingtech-036.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left: Parry Luellen, Kyle Dahlquist, Richard Walker, Sergio Moreno, Eric Tedder, Andy Garrison</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">Christian was writing music, and came to me to say that he needed more musicians. I got scared, because of all the mouths to feed: the smaller the team, the more money we could pay each of them. More to the point, we had a pretty solid collaboration going already, and I was worried about messing that up by adding people that I'd never met before.</span></div>
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<span class="italic">Sergio Moreno, percussion, and Richard Walker, keyboards, joined us. They were a perfect addition. Along with stage manager, Ryan Puffer, and the lighting designer, Shane Rowse - who made it better what I was even hoping for, while still admonishing me for costuming everyone "in aggressively gray-scale" - we embarked on what was to be probably the most challenging and beautifully collaborative artistic experiences of my life. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftT4zCu5gu1fPttqJkEZcx7y0SMUnkgXmlwAc7qpzt0ErOV52YXgmHcN3dS0LqoVET8tIU4kAiOZ-AnmUMcb3IsxIPOW-QRFwmcbj-Buf6d99pUxruxecbOvlLJWGhPetMSPe1a5ZmiY/s1600/IMAG0652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="italic"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="italic">Fortunately, for everyone else on the team, too.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftT4zCu5gu1fPttqJkEZcx7y0SMUnkgXmlwAc7qpzt0ErOV52YXgmHcN3dS0LqoVET8tIU4kAiOZ-AnmUMcb3IsxIPOW-QRFwmcbj-Buf6d99pUxruxecbOvlLJWGhPetMSPe1a5ZmiY/s1600/IMAG0652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhftT4zCu5gu1fPttqJkEZcx7y0SMUnkgXmlwAc7qpzt0ErOV52YXgmHcN3dS0LqoVET8tIU4kAiOZ-AnmUMcb3IsxIPOW-QRFwmcbj-Buf6d99pUxruxecbOvlLJWGhPetMSPe1a5ZmiY/s640/IMAG0652.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love all of these people. So hard.</td></tr>
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<span class="italic">We are fortunate that <i>Sexing Hitler</i> may still have another life. The Unicorn Theatre, here in Kansas City, is presenting a staged reading of the freshly-expanded-into-a-full-length play, with about 30 minutes of new material, this Sunday at 7:30pm. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">I'm very excited, very honored, and kind of scared. It's not only a brand-new script, it's also a brand-new creative team. The original production is so very, very close to me. Those people. That experience. The playwright/entrepreneur in me is beside myself with enthusiasm for this possibility of national exposure, but I'm also selfishly clinging to the memory of what it was. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">Of course it will be different. It should be different. I'm afraid that, if I go to rehearsals (which Bryan and I have been invited to), I will try to make it was it once was, not let it grow into what it could be. </span></div>
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<span class="italic">But I need to let it go. I need to send it off into the world and see how it fares for itself.</span></div>
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<span class="italic">The Unicorn team:</span></div>
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<span class="italic">Director: Ian Crawford</span></div>
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<span class="italic">Brian Paulette as Heinrich Himmler </span><br />
<span class="italic">Amy Attaway as Haschen, the Doll, Francis Galton</span><br />
<span class="italic">Logan Black as Arthur Rink, Puppet, Oliver Wendell Holmes </span><br />
<span class="italic">Laura Jacobs as Senta Schneider, Puppet, Margaret Sanger </span><br />
<span class="italic">Andy Perkins as The Soldier, Puppet, Madison Grant </span></div>
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<span class="italic"><a href="http://www.unicorntheatre.org/?page=season-readings" target="_blank">Join us</a>. It'll be great. I know it.</span><br />
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-54760955901929958102016-04-27T19:25:00.000-07:002016-04-27T19:25:45.990-07:00The Death of ArtistsTime. You know?<br />
<br />
December 31 and January 1 touch each other, yet we start over measuring time on January 1, and then lump it in with all of the following 364 (or 365) days, and judge it as one good or bad year.<br />
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So far, I'm hearing that 2016 sucks.<br />
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David Bowie died. I reeled from the shock. <br />
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Then Alan Rickman, and I cried.<br />
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And Doris Roberts. I was sad.<br />
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Last week, Prince. I wore purple for three days straight. I painted my toenails with paisleys. I wrote "Rest in Purple" on my arm. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJt2SVobadXH5E88YJg2X5oywmF1zJ_DveeImAbAkDbpS5_Jfg4oMq-YgemlITll0xZTWPO96Egz81YMOq7FjlNR3jWJxqKSofTFhfbnW7v_VV9rOI9ptgH1s0DaFlKgZB417EoINx0o/s1600/2016-04-21+12.40.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJt2SVobadXH5E88YJg2X5oywmF1zJ_DveeImAbAkDbpS5_Jfg4oMq-YgemlITll0xZTWPO96Egz81YMOq7FjlNR3jWJxqKSofTFhfbnW7v_VV9rOI9ptgH1s0DaFlKgZB417EoINx0o/s320/2016-04-21+12.40.19.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Did you think I was kidding?</td></tr>
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And I, like so many others, thought, "Why? Why so many artists who made our lives so much more enjoyable, who taught us so much - why so many, seemingly all at once?"<br />
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I don't follow celebrity gossip. I refuse to click the star bait, on principle. They're just people, for crying out loud. Their jobs happen to make them very well-known, but they don't deserve to be pestered like they are. <br />
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But these artists - they're important to us. For whatever reason, they insinuate themselves into our lives, and inspire us. <br />
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Maybe we want to emulate them. Because, somehow, by being a famous artist, they're cooler than we are. Maybe emulating them is one of the ways we learn who we really are, by trying on others' outrageous hats, and through that, slowly discovering what works best on us.<br />
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Maybe we like the escapism, and are grateful for them to create a world in which we're happy to get away from ourselves.<br />
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Maybe we just want to feel. That's what artists do best. By exposing their truth, they move us. Maybe we need their art to get through a tough time. Maybe it reminds us of what's important in the world. Maybe they make us want to dance, laugh, think, cry, howl at the moon, have sex, relax, smile, reach out to someone, get off our collective asses and do what we've been dreaming about.<br />
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So it hurts when they're gone. Partly because we never knew them, though it seemed like we did. It seemed like, through their work, they let us read their diaries. They played a big-enough role in our lives that, somehow, we should have known them.<br />
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And I caught myself thinking that 2016 sucks. Look at all the brilliant artists we've lost already, and it's only April. Next year's Oscars will cut out all acceptance speeches just to make time for the "In Memorial" segment.<br />
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In a whirl of trying to find something positive to hold onto, I thought, "What's the opposite of an artist's death?"<br />
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An artist's birth.<br />
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The first time I ever babysat a real baby (as in, not just a child), I think I was twelve. Maybe thirteen, who knows. I do remember watching this infant, just a few months old, and starting to cry because I realized that everything that was happening to him, he was logging somewhere, and creating his story of the world. I remember realizing that his brain was literally forming, and that weirdly, distantly, in a way he'd never remember, and that I'd never know how, I was helping to create the world he was experiencing. And I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility about that. If I was part of forming his world, I'd do my best to make that small part loving and fun and accepting.<br />
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We don't know which of the babies will grow to be our next Great Artist - the one who will inspire another generation to do more, feel deeper, and create new. They've already been born. You may already know them. They might live in your house, even. Or down the street. You may stand behind them in line at the grocery store. Maybe they'll catch you singing at the top of your lungs in the car, when you think no one is watching. Maybe you'll ask them about their favorite book, as they wait, with their parent, at the oil-change place. Maybe you'll see them pretending to be a frog in the middle of the department-store aisle, and maybe you'll tell them how cool frogs are.<br />
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Maybe they won't be an artist at all. Maybe, a scientist. Maybe the President. Maybe an inventor.<br />
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Maybe a teacher.<br />
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It's funny how thoughts and memories and connections all pile up and slam into you in a single moment, then you try to tell someone - or blog it - and it seems so long and tedious, but the thought, "an artist's birth" and the realization that I am an arts educator collided in a big beautiful emotional explosion. <br />
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And I feel a tremendous sense of responsibility about that.<br />
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-14555220012014054222015-12-23T12:24:00.001-08:002015-12-23T12:24:06.407-08:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 9Hey, there! I know, I know, it's been awhile. I missed you too! Oh, it's just been a crazy, CRAZY, few months. No, actually, a lot of it wasn't good. Or maybe it was, but it was in disguise, and I'm still trying to discover its secret identity. Of course - there have been lots of good things, too - really good things - but most of those came about by going through the bad stuff and making it to the other side. Or at least a small clearing.<br />
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I carry this Winston Churchill quote around in the corner of my mind, for such times:<br />
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<i><b>IF YOU'RE GOING THROUGH HELL, KEEP GOING</b>.</i> </div>
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Eventually, you will come to the end of your hell, but only if you don't stop and sit there. You've got to keep moving.</div>
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It's so much harder to avoid taking an indefinite journey in hell if the media is telling you that there is no end, that if you find your way through this hell, there's another waiting for you, and another, and another, it will never end. You should be scared. We have lots of "reasons" to be scared - look, here's another! Bet you hadn't thought of that one, huh? That's right, go hide under the bed. That's the only place where the monsters can't find you. Oh... oops. Sorry. I was so worried about making sure you were scared of the Out There Monsters that I forgot about the In Here Monsters. So many Monsters! They're everywhere! Aren't you terrified?</div>
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Personally, I battle the Dark by looking for the Light. It's there, always, but most people seem to be so fixated on the Dark, that it's hard to remember that if it wasn't for the Light, the Dark wouldn't even be there.</div>
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So here is the ninth installment of my semi-regular post of Light. Seems appropriate for this time of year, seeing how we just passed the solstice, and are on our way to longer, warmer, and (literally) brighter days.</div>
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I just noticed that all of these stories are about children. That's also a lovely coincidence with the holiday season.</div>
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A child leaves a note of apology in a book at a Toronto <a href="https://gma.yahoo.com/boy-contrite-note-over-torn-library-book-brings-235942728--abc-news-BackToSchool.html#" target="_blank">library</a>.</div>
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Another child calmly, silently confronts a shouting bigot with a symbol of <a href="http://www.rawstory.com/2015/06/how-this-amazing-7-year-old-ohio-girl-left-a-homophobic-street-preacher-deflated/" target="_blank">love</a>.</div>
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A seven-year-old donates the contents of his piggy bank to a vandalized <a href="http://ilmfeed.com/boy-donates-savings-to-mosque-muslim-community-responds-with-a-surprise/#arvlbdata" target="_blank">mosque</a>.</div>
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A touching father-and-son moment happens on-camera after the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkM-SDNoI_8" target="_blank">Paris</a> attack.</div>
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An unbelievably eloquent six-year-old describes how she wants her <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vm0UNn7tJ5o" target="_blank">parents</a> to behave after their divorce.</div>
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Happy holidays, everyone. Keep going. You'll make it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img class="image-image" height="400" src="http://i.huffpost.com/gadgets/slideshows/388100/slide_388100_4677374_free.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"I'm trying to focus on the good stuff here, people! Lalalalala! I can't hear you!"</td></tr>
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-18107710989247248032015-09-01T17:48:00.000-07:002015-09-01T17:59:47.290-07:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 8Yes, terrible things happen in the world, but I contend that more good things happen, they just don't bring in the ratings. The "We Have Twenty-Four Hours to Fill" news programs would have you believe that the world is terrible, people are mean, and everything's either currently on fire, or will be soon. <br />
<br />
So, in my tiny little attempt to balance that out, here's some Good News for you.<br />
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High schools students cancel their <a href="http://abc11.com/health/seniors-sacrifice-class-trip-to-donate-to-principals-health-care-costs/744636/" target="_blank">senior trip</a> plans for something even better.<br />
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A single mom has her <a href="http://www.addictinginfo.org/2015/06/20/homeless-man-finds-purse-cash-he-needs-single-mom-needs-it-more-so-he-gives-it-back/" target="_blank">lost purse</a>, and all of its contents, returned to her - by the homeless man who found it.<br />
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This eight-year-old girl receives <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-31604026" target="_blank">gifts</a> from her unusual friends.<br />
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Over fifty years into their relationship, a couple is finally able to <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/06/29/first-same-sex-couple-dallas-jack-evans-george-harris_n_7684464.html" target="_blank">tie the knot</a>. <br />
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The Girl Scouts return a $100,000 <a href="http://www.seattlemet.com/articles/2015/6/29/donor-says-girl-scouts-can-t-use-100k-gift-for-transgender-girls" target="_blank">donation</a>, because it was not intended for all of the girls.<br />
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After both of his parents die, a six-year-old decides that the world needs more <a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/news/after-losing-parents-6-year-old-embarks-on-mission/" target="_blank">smiles</a>.<br />
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And to wrap it up, let's laugh at a <a href="http://i.imgur.com/gbpUHMG.gif" target="_blank">kid</a>. Actually, I feel bad for the little guy, but his deadpan reaction kills me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="287" src="http://w2.fnstatic.co.uk/sites/default/files/styles/recipe_main_pic/public/turtle-strawb.jpg?itok=ZLZXqPw4" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="460" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you set your mind to it, ALL THIS can be YOURS!</td></tr>
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-203399978468032542015-07-18T08:51:00.000-07:002015-07-18T09:29:53.885-07:00Reflections on Opening Night(s)<div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
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First of all, I'd like to thank my doctor and modern medicine. This has been the most manageable tech week ever for me, and I opened THREE shows last night.<br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1588904104699471/" target="_blank">"Silver: A Noir Ballet"</a> opened at 6:00. We had to hold the house for ten minutes, because there were so many people buying tickets. Fringe necessarily keeps a very tight schedule, but I knew the running time of the show gave us a little wiggle room. <br />
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The way Fringe tech works is this: Every company gets exactly three hours in their performance space to get everything technically ironed out. Considering most theatre companies, who don't share a venue with seven other shows running in rep, have at least four or five days, and sometimes even weeks, in the space to make sure everything goes smoothly on opening night, this is virtually no time at all for anyone to create a well-oiled machine. <br />
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But that's part of the charm of Fringe. The audience knows it's different than anything else they're likely to experience, and there's a hectic party atmosphere to the entire Festival. It's really as if the audiences are part of the team. Everyone is very supportive, and everyone's ready to have a good time.<br />
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I've never done any show EVER that didn't have some hiccups on opening night - or even, every night; it's live theatre, ladies and gentlemen! <br />
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The house for "Silver" was packed. I didn't get a house count, but this is my eighth year doing Fringe, and I've never seen an opening night that full. Composer Christian Hankel has poured everything into this show, and I was so happy for him, to have such a large audience on Day One.<br />
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After the show, I packed up props as quickly as possible (remember, each company shares the space with several other companies, so there's no leaving things out for tomorrow's show), and ran across the hall to the planetarium for the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1622293614717500/" target="_blank">"Voyage to Voyager"</a> opening at 8:00. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9cBxHBaP4IbAhKjiKkAKN5NCAGwo6wN4632WasPtGxUj2TU-YQoVehTLlW_87IoqcWnt2FpK4bbbcZs-gT8uHo99ZUPvHE6QzlVULn9ArHXLmNXSTjuvl2MGD9vgUVtV35xjzpi4l-A/s1600/voyager.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9cBxHBaP4IbAhKjiKkAKN5NCAGwo6wN4632WasPtGxUj2TU-YQoVehTLlW_87IoqcWnt2FpK4bbbcZs-gT8uHo99ZUPvHE6QzlVULn9ArHXLmNXSTjuvl2MGD9vgUVtV35xjzpi4l-A/s400/voyager.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NASA confirmed that Voyager 1 has left the solar system. Voyager 2 is on the cusp.</td></tr>
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I was rather scattered at this point, to be honest. Words were hard for me to find, and I felt frantic and awkward before the show. I'm very grateful that the "Voyager" team is extremely capable, and so I could be a blathering idiot without fear of the entire thing falling apart.<br />
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And again, I was shocked at the turnout. Audience members were in line before I even got there! I had to ask the audience to move toward the center of the aisles, so the people who hadn't found seats yet could actually sit with the people they came with. What a great problem to have. It was very close to being a sold-out performance. I'm still reeling with gratitude.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/q82/p526x296/11707473_10207485882813658_7276211548885902861_n.jpg?oh=707e9d8b3ddd699f6c582fb83b15a0aa&oe=5654EDAC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tara Varney's photo." border="0" class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="238" src="https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/q82/p526x296/11707473_10207485882813658_7276211548885902861_n.jpg?oh=707e9d8b3ddd699f6c582fb83b15a0aa&oe=5654EDAC" style="left: 0px;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I celebrated opening night with some fun, sent to me by a secret admirer, who obviously knows me extremely well.<br />
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Afterward, I had about 30-45 minutes of downtime, which I chose to spend eating the crackers, cheese, and tomatoes I had packed. And then, I was off to City Stage again - this time to perform in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/701573786636728/" target="_blank">"Badder Auditions"</a> at 10:30pm.<br />
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Except for the getting-pretty-for-the-stage-after-hours-of-sweating part, I was pretty relaxed. The show is mostly improv; each actor in the revolving cast (I'm doing all of the performances though) has the barest outline for what might happen during their "audition" onstage. There aren't lines or blocking to memorize, there are no tech cues, you just have to go with the flow. As with all improv, sometimes a joke just doesn't land. Last night, I estimate 90% landed. And that is a pretty darned good percentage. I laughed out loud very many times, and my jaw dropped more than once at the sometimes-R-rated antics onstage. I like to see envelopes genuinely being pushed. <br />
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And then, it was over. The night I was so stressed about. History. On to the next.<br />
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Today, "Badder Auditions" is at 3:00. Director Kevin King and I have some sort of interview with Channel 41 before that, but I don't know when it'll air or anything. "Silver" is right after, at 4:30. Then I get to actually SEE a show or two before "Voyager" at 9:30. <br />
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I don't know. Maybe I'll have dinner too. We'll see. <br />
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The <a href="http://kcfringe.org/" target="_blank">Fringe</a> website has all the info you could want, or ever need, about the festivities. This year, there are 116 performing groups presenting over 480 shows at 20 different venues. You WILL find something you like, for sure. Unless you only like naps and bratwurst. I don't think you'll find those there. But you never know.Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-14100908298279586232015-07-07T07:37:00.000-07:002015-07-09T13:38:39.809-07:00The Voyager Mission and the Pale Blue Dot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When I was a kid (I now include teendom in this category), I would look up at the night sky and try to wrap my brain around the knowledge that those points of light are the past. They are so very far away that what I was seeing was literally many years old. (The closest star to us is Alpha Centauri, which is nearly four-and-a-half light-years away. This means, just in case you're unsure of the definition, that the light from Alpha Centauri takes almost 4.5 YEARS to be visible to us.) It was stunning to me. Most of these stars were bigger than our sun, but they're so far away that they're easily obscured by streetlights. How tiny is Earth? How tiny am I? </div>
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"When I was a kid." Ha. I still do this, constantly.</div>
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<em>Voyager I</em> was launched on September 5, 1977. Its primary mission was to study the gas giants of our solar system. Its secondary mission: send a message of peace and understanding into interstellar space, to be found, hopefully, by intelligent life. The form this greeting took was what became known as the "Golden Record."</div>
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When <em>Voyager I</em> passed Saturn in 1980, Carl Sagan, head of the Golden Record committee, asked that the spacecraft be turned around to take one last photo of Earth. He knew that the photo would have no real scientific value, because it was too far away to make out any detail, but he thought it would be an important image for understanding our place in the cosmos.</div>
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Most scientists on the Voyager Mission team thought it was far too risky, that taking a picture of Earth, so close to the sun, would irreparably damage the camera. It took ten years for the Voyager team to agree that it would be worthwhile, to recalibrate the instruments, and smooth out other assorted bumps.</div>
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On February 14, 1990, <em>Voyager I</em> was 6 billion km/3.7 million miles/40.5 AU from Earth when it took this photograph:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxm8BrZeOAS0OUKHlp1OTifs9aaGuvIAk4QiC2vvkkMSdyVdg8v7ynH2cciKyPFWs1y5rrYcWKc7ewvY0qeFWPYGBVY5COwQZ8_7KxnJVSXt6Cbq_k06A444rrgego8jLMiuZGlqrNAuM/s1600/Pale+Blue+Dot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxm8BrZeOAS0OUKHlp1OTifs9aaGuvIAk4QiC2vvkkMSdyVdg8v7ynH2cciKyPFWs1y5rrYcWKc7ewvY0qeFWPYGBVY5COwQZ8_7KxnJVSXt6Cbq_k06A444rrgego8jLMiuZGlqrNAuM/s640/Pale+Blue+Dot.jpg" width="492" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The remarkable "Pale Blue Dot" photo. Yet another gift from Carl Sagan.</td></tr>
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See that tiny point of light in the far right sunbeam? That's the Earth. </div>
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In his 1994 book, <em>Pale Blue Dot</em>, Sagan wrote:</div>
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"From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.</blockquote>
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The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity – in all this vastness – there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.</blockquote>
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The Earth is the only world known, so far, to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment, the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known."</blockquote>
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I can't possibly add anything to this. Sagan was far more brilliant and eloquent than I'll ever be. <br />
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I suppose some people might find this depressing: we're so insignificant. I find it exhilarating: we're so insignificant. That's amazing. That's freeing. That makes all one's worries and disagreements and fears and mistakes even tinier. If you try something big, and you fail, it means nothing, compared to the vastness of the universe. If you confess your love for someone, the risk is infinitesimal. If you embarrass yourself, no one will remember it by the time the light of Alpha Centauri reaches the Earth. <br />
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This is us. We have to take care of each other, because this 0.12 pixel is all we have.<br />
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<em><a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/1622293614717500/" target="_blank">Voyage to Voyager</a>,</em> a multi-media play about the creation of the <em>Voyager </em>Golden Record, opens at the Gottlieb Planetarium in Union Station on Fri, July 17. Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-30014792580475151992015-06-28T07:37:00.000-07:002015-06-28T07:48:53.440-07:00"Voyage to Voyager" at the Kansas City Fringe Festival<div class="text_exposed_root text_exposed" id="id_558d6a043e6330d97735553">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3PdLoQyo3Ati0CkgkN5bZhdrFo-r92ix0QyiCmxluHWFBooieWjiUYJupXuJffMkNC4IB8SwV70-ezkDUheT_Oqtphjo7v-6kdKwmook5F6o4uAgQ3A9bhNJKOZ1WLN1LlfE7RZh8oU/s1600/Voyager_Golden_Record_fx.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3PdLoQyo3Ati0CkgkN5bZhdrFo-r92ix0QyiCmxluHWFBooieWjiUYJupXuJffMkNC4IB8SwV70-ezkDUheT_Oqtphjo7v-6kdKwmook5F6o4uAgQ3A9bhNJKOZ1WLN1LlfE7RZh8oU/s320/Voyager_Golden_Record_fx.png" width="319" /></a></div>
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Ever since I was a kid, I've been fascinated with astronomy. I wanted to be an astronomer when I was young. I didn't understand that other people weren't as fascinated with the books on planets and black holes and such that I regularly checked out from the library.</div>
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When I was eight years old, I'd heard that a craft had been launched that was going to investigate Jupiter and Saturn. I thought I would die of suspense long before it ever reached Jupiter - how could I possibly wait all those years? And there was an even longer wait for it to get to Saturn, which, clearly, was the coolest planet in the solar system. I mean, RINGS, people. </div>
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I was also aware that there was a record on that craft, and that the record had music and messages that would hopefully find their way to intelligent, extraterrestrial life. And then, they'd know about us, and come here, and that would be so cool! </div>
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I had no idea how to find out what was on that record. But truly, what made my young mind reel was the question <em>How did they decide what to put on it? </em>What was on it was important to me, but thinking of the <em>process </em>of creating it was almost overwhelming.</div>
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How did they <em>do</em> it? There's a LOT of music in the world, and this was the '70s, so I knew how short records were. How did they (whoever "they" were) narrow down the choices, and most importantly, <em>agree</em> on what should be included?</div>
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The Voyager mission taught us that Saturn may not be the coolest planet, or at least, not because it was the one with rings. We learned that <em>all </em>of the<em> </em>gas giants have rings. Voyager discovered twenty-three new moons.</div>
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In 1979, Voyager 1 took these photos of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=15&v=RdIfnymd9Aw" target="_blank">Jupiter</a>, and we could finally watch the movement of the Big Red Spot.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="318" src="https://www.nasa.gov/sites/default/files/thumbnails/imageneptune_full.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In 1989, Voyager 2 took this photo of Neptune. Gorgeous.</td></tr>
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Most breathtaking, for me, is the "Pale Blue Dot" photo taken of Earth from over 4 billion miles away. See it? In the far right "sunbeam," that tiny, 0.12 pixel point of light? That's us.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-ved="0CAcQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fnauka.bg%2Fa%2F%25D0%25B1%25D0%25BB%25D0%25B5%25D0%25B4%25D0%25B0-%25D1%2581%25D0%25B8%25D0%25BD%25D1%258F-%25D1%2582%25D0%25BE%25D1%2587%25D0%25B8%25D1%2586%25D0%25B0&ei=hgGQVYL3BYGs-QG53IH4Dg&bvm=bv.96783405,d.cWw&psig=AFQjCNGN_DssdSmDrTOxiYeGglDHT7YwFw&ust=1435587215735065" id="irc_mil" jsaction="mousedown:irc.rl;keydown:irc.rlk;irc.il;" style="border-image: none; border: 0px currentColor; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3777/10572826674_1b04a320b0_o.jpg" height="533" id="irc_mi" style="margin-top: 0px;" width="409" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pale Blue Dot. There we are.</td></tr>
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I will probably blog more about the Pale Blue Dot photo at a later date, because it blows my freaking mind.<br />
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When I learned that NASA has confirmed that Voyager 1 has left the solar system, and Voyager 2 is close (in astronomical terms) behind, I had to learn more about this mission that's captivated my imagination for nearly 40 years. <br />
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Now we have the internet, and it's easier to sate my need for information about the Voyager mission. I'm still thrilled and overwhelmed. The more I learn, the more I want to know. For instance, check out the <a href="http://voyager.jpl.nasa.gov/where/index.html" target="_blank">ticker</a> on the NASA website, showing how far away the Voyagers are.<br />
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So, we wrote this play, about how the Golden Record was put together. Carl Sagan led the project, and who doesn't love Carl Sagan? Then we found out that the Gottlieb Planetarium at Union Station was excited about having us do it there. How perfect! And then we talked to Billy Blob, a local animator, and he was enthusiastic about contributing fantasy story elements from thousands, or millions, of years in the future. And the cast. The beautiful, slightly off-kilter-in-the-best-ways, asking-the-hard-questions, motley crew of a cast. They're delightful.<br />
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In the meantime, check out the western sky. Venus and Jupiter are hanging out together. Look at them, and know that Venus is currently about 70 million miles away, and Jupiter is 489 million miles away. The surface area of Jupiter is 120 times bigger than Earth's. I am not able to fully grasp this. My mind just stretches and twists and turns and tries to comprehend that size and distance, but can't.<br />
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So here's the official blurby stuff about the show. I really hope you can come see it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDG7Ni-_jq4-E4_6QXgKZUoUxtqnsKPYBvewU22CWwDVzb8WySFuJPExUNmFCRbdLGbOQNfVCvBSWm0qdA_vIJG2p3Fx3lAKYUNsfCu3exk5NpuZjtSv7vbjD7Udxz0nC6UZiyHnS5BI/s1600/Voyager+Facebook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinDG7Ni-_jq4-E4_6QXgKZUoUxtqnsKPYBvewU22CWwDVzb8WySFuJPExUNmFCRbdLGbOQNfVCvBSWm0qdA_vIJG2p3Fx3lAKYUNsfCu3exk5NpuZjtSv7vbjD7Udxz0nC6UZiyHnS5BI/s640/Voyager+Facebook.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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In 1977, Carl Sagan was asked by NASA to create a peaceful greeting to extraterrestrial life; a Golden Record that would be included on board the Voyager Space Mission. The next six months were filled with frantic calls, governmental red tape, unexpected egos, miscommunication, and last-minute changes, but most of all, the question: "What does it mean to be human?"<br />
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The creators of the 2014 Kansas City Fringe Festival's Best-Attended Show, “Red Death,” invite you to the magica<span class="text_exposed_show">l dome of Union Station's Gottlieb Planetarium, where live actors, animation, and outer space collide in a comedic, informative, and unconventional theatrical event for all ages.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;">"Voyage to Voyager" is co-written by </span><a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=690297232" href="https://www.facebook.com/bryan.colley"><span style="color: black;">Bryan Colley</span></a><span style="color: black;"> and Tara Varney, the authors of "Hexing Hitler/Sexing Hitler" and "KHAAAAAN! The Musical." Tara Varney also directs. The play stars Coleman Crenshaw </span><span style="color: black;">as Carl Sagan, Jen Benkert, Claire Davis</span><span style="color: black;">, Andy Garrison, Michael Golliher</span><span style="color: black;">, </span><span style="color: black;">Parry Luellen, and Shelley</span> Wyche<span style="color: black;">, and features original animation by local artist Billy Blob</span><span style="color: black;">.</span><br />
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7/17 - Friday - 8:00pm<br />
7/18 - Saturday - 9:30pm<br />
7/19 - Sunday - 6:30pm<br />
7/22 - Wednesday - 8:00pm<br />
7/24 - Friday - 9:30pm<br />
7/25 - Saturday - 8:00pm<br />
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Tickets are available at the door, or through the Fringe <a href="http://kcfringe.org/voyage-voyager/" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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Also, don't forget the one-time purchase of a Fringe button, which you can use over and over to get into other Fringe shows and events, helps sustain the Festival operations, as well as being a nifty status symbol to show off how artsy and cool you are.<br />
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-9462387847638916382015-05-27T08:24:00.000-07:002015-05-27T08:24:14.812-07:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 7Just in case you're new here, "Beautiful Day" posts are my effort to remind everyone that the world is an amazing place, and that it's filled with incredible people doing inspiring things. Don't watch the news. Unless there's a tornado warning.<br />
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A 102-year-old former chorus <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bktozJWbLQg" target="_blank">dancer</a> sees herself on film for the first time.<br />
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A Pittsburgh detective's heart breaks, and he helps a couple of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMuf4MIn0Gs" target="_blank">kids</a> like no one else could.<br />
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"Wanksy," a Manchester, England "street artist," finds a new way to get <a href="http://www.fastcodesign.com/3045488/slicker-city/anonymous-activist-gets-potholes-fixed-by-drawing-giant-penises-around-them?partner=rss&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=feedburner+fastcodesign&utm_content=feedburner#1" target="_blank">potholes</a> filled, and quickly.<br />
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A moment of anonymous <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yVzAC7mLxJw" target="_blank">generosity</a> on the 6 Train, caught on video.<br />
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A scientist accidentally invents <a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/innovation/scientist-accidentally-developed-sunglasses-that-could-correct-color-blindness-180954456/?no-ist" target="_blank">sunglasses</a> that correct color blindness, and a dad sees the color of his children's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTpCTDwjHZQ" target="_blank">eyes</a> for the first time.<br />
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You may or may not know that I'm a big ol' bird nerd. (I caught it from my dad.) So, some of my personal good news last week was adding a new bird to my Life List, when a great-crested flycatcher landed on my back deck! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJZvCp1i0z06vFsbe_G6GVEcAMTFidagZKED3_LB2LzZZmJoIIebJFwIhbjpFrC_gEevGJnidAAdH6DK8yPWuDEr8xy1tFnAZExa9AKGE6k7PJYUrfuLxw8ZFGM5GXXG5y7eTLeq9Lp4/s1600/GreatCrestedFlycatcher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJZvCp1i0z06vFsbe_G6GVEcAMTFidagZKED3_LB2LzZZmJoIIebJFwIhbjpFrC_gEevGJnidAAdH6DK8yPWuDEr8xy1tFnAZExa9AKGE6k7PJYUrfuLxw8ZFGM5GXXG5y7eTLeq9Lp4/s320/GreatCrestedFlycatcher.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This guy, here. Or a relative, anyway.<br />
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Look for good news. It's there, it's just that ugly news is often louder. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-68844547550194564772015-05-05T11:24:00.000-07:002015-05-06T07:11:28.116-07:00The Mastery Pursuit<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Laura Isaac" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-11" src="http://lauraisaac.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/BioPic2014-11-225x300.jpg" height="300" scale="0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="225" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Laura's so cool.</td></tr>
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My friend Laura Isaac began an overwhelming project a few years ago, called "10,000 Hours." Trained as a printmaker, Laura sought to push herself as an artist and took up knitting, something she'd never tried before, as the medium for her new project. It's based on the idea that 10,000 hours of practice, at the edge of your ability, will make you a master of it.<br />
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It's a revelatory project, in many, many ways. The sheer commitment to a project that, by definition, will take TEN THOUSAND hours to complete is beyond my understanding. I find that a very courageous undertaking right there. <br />
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As part of her project, she started a podcast, in which she interviews artists of various disciplines. I was shocked and deeply honored when she asked if I'd be willing to be interviewed.<br />
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I was really nervous, but it turned out to be a lovely experience. Theatre people don't often talk about their art and their creative process, so this was unexpectedly welcome and fun. We laughed a lot. I cried a little too. Because I do that sometimes. Don't let it bother you.<br />
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Here are the links to my interview with Laura:<br />
<a href="http://10khoursproject.com/?p=220" target="_blank">Part 1:</a> "I realized that I was teaching process-based acting... but, as an actor, I wasn't part of the collaboration."<br />
<a href="http://10khoursproject.com/?p=225" target="_blank">Part 2:</a> "I think people feel pressure to be supportive, and that's often interpreted as being encouraging and positive." <br />
<a href="http://10khoursproject.com/?p=233" target="_blank">Part 3:</a> "The reason I'm not happy with this is the reason that I do this."<br />
<a href="http://10khoursproject.com/?p=236" target="_blank">Part 4:</a> "Giving up is the end, and letting go is not worrying about the end."<br />
<a href="http://10khoursproject.com/?p=240" target="_blank">Part 5:</a> "I've got to listen to the story and figure out how it wants to be told, not how I want to tell it."<br />
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And here is website of the lovely, talented, and brave <a href="http://lauraisaac.com/wordpress/" target="_blank">Laura Isaac</a>. She is fascinating and <em>wonderful</em> (haha, Laura!) and loving and super-cool. Check it out.<br />
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Thank you, Laura, for the space to re-discover that maybe I do know what I'm doing. A little, anyway. Sometimes.<br />
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-35781782513222479132015-04-20T11:48:00.000-07:002015-04-20T11:53:20.861-07:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 6It's spring. Everything's green, flowers are blooming, Kansas City had the most delightful soft morning thunderstorm the other day, hummingbirds are back in the area... But I'm feeling really down, mostly because of News. I truly believe that the world's Good Things and People far outweigh the Bad, but what we hear on the news is the exact opposite. Every moment, people are choosing to make the world a better place, but we don't often hear those stories. That's why I blog them. Hopefully, the following stories will inspire you, like they inspire me.<br />
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A brother is missed, but his birthday is <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2015/03/14/newser-heartbreaking-tip-message/24756355/" target="_blank">celebrated</a>, with an anonymous 130% tip to the server.<br />
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Middle school basketball players defend a bullied <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03/12/cheerleader-down-syndrome-bullied-desiree-andrews_n_6853032.html?fb_action_ids=336214503244863&fb_action_types=og.comments&fb_source=other_multiline&action_object_map=%5b652543448206743%5d&action_type_map=%5b%22og.comments%22%5d&action_ref_map=%5b%5d" target="_blank">cheerleader</a>, in the middle of a game.<br />
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A group of women help a chronically-ill friend with a surprise pajama/house-cleaning party. Their subsequent <a href="http://www.thehouseofhendrix.com/2015/04/01/why-women-rock/" target="_blank">joy </a>is a direct result of their friend "<span style="color: black;">being vulnerable enough to humbly allow us in to see her dirt."</span><br />
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An assisted-living facility is shut down, but two <a href="http://www.npr.org/2014/11/21/365433685/if-we-left-they-wouldnt-have-nobody?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=20150411" target="_blank">employees</a> stay on, without pay, to help those with nowhere to go. <br />
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Writing an <a href="http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/latimes/obituary.aspx?n=nina-beth-nestor&pid=174629182" target="_blank">obituary</a> for a loved one is hard. Writing one that the loved one would appreciate is even harder, but it's completely worth it. <br />
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Thirty-five years after taking pictures of <a href="http://petapixel.com/2014/08/14/photographer-photographs-two-mimes-1974-realizes-35-years-later-one-robin-williams/" target="_blank">mimes</a> in Central Park, a photographer realizes that he captured a rare treasure.<br />
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Two on-duty police officers stop and play street <a href="http://www.mlive.com/news/muskegon/index.ssf/2015/04/video_of_2_muskegon_police_off.html" target="_blank">football</a> with some neighborhood kids.<br />
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Last year, a man started shooting people in the parking lot of the Jewish Community Center here in KC. Due to the quick actions of many, JCC went on lockdown, but three people were killed in the meantime. In remembrance, a week of kind acts called "<a href="http://www.villageshalom.org/village-shalom-personalize-%E2%80%98sevendays%E2%80%99-initiative-residents-staff" target="_blank">Seven Days</a>: Make a Ripple, Change the World" was instituted, culminating in a peace walk on the anniversary of the shootings.<br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="200" src="https://scontent-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t34.0-12/11139788_10153140154751690_736115978_n.jpg?oh=da11eaff6c21ca2a428c69ffcd02c1ac&oe=553732AD" style="height: 736px; width: 552px;" width="150" /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="200" src="https://scontent-dfw.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t34.0-12/11130760_10153140154631690_583938479_n.jpg?oh=f017cdfb1a8afb8c4b2400267c8c9a1f&oe=5538258B" style="height: 736px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; width: 552px;" width="150" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos courtesy of Jay Coombes, who hid in his car as the gunman aimed at him in 2014. </td></tr>
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-28924363669570917712015-03-17T08:58:00.000-07:002015-03-17T09:00:01.567-07:00"White Rabbit Red Rabbit": A Very Vague Post-Mortem NO SPOILERS<br />
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Last night, I walked onstage, with a prop I didn't know the purpose of, to perform a play I knew nothing about. Cheryl Kimmi, Executive Director of the Kansas City Fringe Festival and producer of the play I was going to do, right then, handed me a sealed manila envelope with my name on it, and took a seat in the audience.<br />
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I was alone onstage, with a few props and a couple of set pieces that I hadn't known about before arriving, and didn't know how they were going to be used. I opened the envelope in front of the audience. I knew that it contained the script, and that's everything I knew about what was about to happen.<br />
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Moments before, I was alone in the Green Room backstage, pacing and drinking honey straight from the bear, trying to calm down, loosen up, and coat my scratchy throat. I felt very alone. Then I looked around at the show posters around the room. I saw a photo of my dear friend Marcie.Then another close friend, Parry. And sweet Amy. These are people who are very close to my heart, and one reason for that is that they've been part of some of the most moving artistic experiences of my life, all at Fringe. And there was a photo of Coleman, an actor I hold in high regard, who was in <em>Red Death</em> last year. And there was darling Karen, whom breast cancer took away from us a few years ago.<br />
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Suddenly, weirdly, and very sappily, I fully realized that I wasn't alone. Everyone in that theatre was rooting for me. Even people who couldn't come to the show, like my aunt, Jean, in Salt Lake City - they were rooting for me too.<br />
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So I opened the envelope, and started reading: "<em>White Rabbit Red Rabbit</em> by Nassim Soleimanpour."<br />
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In 1994, someone asked me how many plays I'd done. At that point, I counted around 200. Of course, I've done far more since then, than I'd done up until that point. I can't begin to count, but that was over 20 years ago. <br />
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The point is, I've done a lot of theatre. Add to that the number of plays I've seen and the number of scripts I've read... I contain a lot of theatre experience.<br />
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And <em>White Rabbit Red Rabbit </em>was an experience like none I've ever had before. Nothing even comes close.<br />
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I took a journey last night. I'd never seen this land, so I had to trust the playwright, Nassim, a man I've ever met, never heard of, in another country, to keep me safe. I also knew that Cheryl never would have asked me to go on the journey with him if it meant I'd be in danger. <br />
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Trust is a very fragile thing. We've all been badly burnt by putting our trust in the wrong people. But going into this play, I had to <em>choose</em> trust. For no good reason other than Nassim and Cheryl chose to trust me.<br />
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They chose to trust me. At least Cheryl knows me, and knows how I work. But Nassim doesn't. Still doesn't. It's a fair bet that he still hasn't heard my name, even though I somehow feel very close to him now.<br />
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I felt a tremendous sense of responsibility to him. Even as a playwright myself, I've never felt this sort of responsibility to someone's work. <br />
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<em>White Rabbit Red Rabbit</em>, in my opinion, is a deeply moving piece of theatre. Nassim sets out to accomplish a number of things, and does so with a surprising variety of tactics and emotion. There was a lot of laughter last night. And though I can't speak for anyone else (because stage lights are bright), I know I cried many tears. <br />
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I had a transformative experience last night. Maybe because I let the play be what it was. Nassim was exactly right about how his work needed to be presented. Without any previous knowledge from the participants. <br />
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I hate being vague about this. But you need to know nothing about this play until you are there, onstage or in the audience. <br />
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My life expanded last night. And for that, I am exceedingly grateful.Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-48926216654155827092015-03-12T22:14:00.001-07:002015-03-13T07:08:31.290-07:00"White Rabbit Red Rabbit": The Play I'm Performing that I'm Not Allowed to Know Anything About<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"The play they are not allowed to talk about. Iranian playwright Nassim Soleimanpour was denied a passport because his status as conscientious objector. Unable to travel, he wrote a play which, since its premier in 2011, has taken audiences by storm and been celebrated worldwide as one of the most transformative and original evenings in theatre. Every performance is unique - and a surprise for the brave actor who is not allowed to see the script until the moment they arrive on stage, joining the audience on a journey into the unknown; stumbling upon the personal and pr<span class="text_exposed_show">ofound, the limits of liberty and ultimately where theatre can take you, with or without a passport."</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">Now you know as much as I do about the play that I'm performing on Monday. No, really.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">The Kansas City Fringe Festival is producing this run, with a different actor every night. Why? Because the playwright, for what I'm sure is a very good reason, doesn't want the actor to see the script until it is handed to them, onstage, in front of their audience. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">No, I don't get any time to look it over before I start acting. Zero minutes.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">Yeah. 'S craziness. I know.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I've talked to a few of the other people slated to perform this piece, and they seem quite casual about it. Sort of a "No rehearsal? No problem!" kind of thing. I guess part of me feels that way, but it goes against my natural tendencies.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">I've always been one, when faced with a challenge, to research the heck out of it. It's akin to knowing your enemy, I guess. Google is my best friend.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">But for this play? No. No research! Bad Tara!</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">It was a very difficult urge to contend with at first. As time passed, I got used to the idea of not worrying about it so much. (That's quite a feat, in and of itself, because I worry about everything.) But then...</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">It opened. </span><span class="text_exposed_show">Last week.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">And now, I'm scared that I'll accidentally learn something I'm not supposed to know, by some well-meaning audience member letting details slip. </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">For instance: Here's KC Fringe's Director of Development, Brent Kimmi, discussing the project on <a href="http://www.kshb.com/entertainment/kcl/kc-presents-white-rabbit-red-rabbit" target="_blank">Kansas City Live.</a> My name might be mentioned once. Or twice. (The selection they perform is not from "White Rabbit Red Rabbit." It's from our 2012 play, "Sexing Hitler." Obviously, since it's on daytime network television, it's not as racy as it sounds.) But Brent uses the word "interaction," and now I feel like I know too much. </span></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">The suspense is killing me.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Then suddenly, last night, a thought: What if there's more than one script, and an audience doesn't know which script they'll see performed until they show up? I mean, how would I know? How would the audience know? An audience member could see it two or three times, and just always see the same script performed, luck of the draw? Then I could get up in front of the audience on Monday, get handed the script, and just say anything at all. The audience would pretty much HAVE to believe me! I could recite pieces of audition monologues I've done over the years, or describe my breakfast in great detail, or confess deep secrets, or relate stories about students, or anything! AND I wouldn't have to wear reading glasses! ...oh. Well. There you go. If I'm not wearing reading glasses, it's a pretty good bet that I'm making it up. Now you know my secret.</span><br />
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It has not escaped me that this theatre experiment is something of an analogy for life. You never know what's coming, you can never fully prepare. You show up, and deal with the script that you're handed. <br />
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I mean, I teach improv, for crying out loud. I know about jumping in. I know about saying "yes." I know about not knowing.<br />
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So how is this project different? It's... not, I suppose. Hm.<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">If you're interested in seeing this fascinating experiment, here's the link to the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/828973843832214/" target="_blank">Facebook event page,</a> where you can read some of the fretful thoughts and conversations, and here's the link to <a href="https://kc-fringe.ticketleap.com/kc-fringe-presents-white-rabbit-red-rabbit-varney/dates/Mar-16-2015_at_0700PM" target="_blank">purchase tickets</a>.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">If you're interested in the possibility of seeing me fall flat on my face... well, the same links will work.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"></span><br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-19806508165163851812015-03-06T09:19:00.000-08:002015-03-06T12:09:39.260-08:00Project Pride presents: Meet Me in the CafeQUEERia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjecILlIgrsyRt_bZ3Vuyrytjlzq5jzU0bbWHraQSxdke2_K3RtLTqZyLvm8kHjhhu-0Ui9bHgN8w4mgZW3tsqA43IHfvxPHN276cQuXdhzG3ffYlHQrT_sQK7HE-VsKY0MIkaA2Ys57_A/s1600/3-3-15+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjecILlIgrsyRt_bZ3Vuyrytjlzq5jzU0bbWHraQSxdke2_K3RtLTqZyLvm8kHjhhu-0Ui9bHgN8w4mgZW3tsqA43IHfvxPHN276cQuXdhzG3ffYlHQrT_sQK7HE-VsKY0MIkaA2Ys57_A/s1600/3-3-15+7.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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I apologize profusely for not posting about this sooner, but my life has been a crazy neck-and-neck race of projects recently. (And let's not even talk about having time to do my taxes. Oy.) But I have to share this deeply meaningful project with you, and it opens tomorrow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6vkYP0_dgiQRPsLsIJ34FZO2_yAuJGhlMZ_zNvBQY59R4aqg80hLiBcHVRc0zc2wN9F-O4Nd5pcbVb88P_HBIVFea8YNEZf8QqR2tu5o0bXXswFPjy_S6_jzaAWEFDwvFg-jtrXtTGmI/s1600/Togayther+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6vkYP0_dgiQRPsLsIJ34FZO2_yAuJGhlMZ_zNvBQY59R4aqg80hLiBcHVRc0zc2wN9F-O4Nd5pcbVb88P_HBIVFea8YNEZf8QqR2tu5o0bXXswFPjy_S6_jzaAWEFDwvFg-jtrXtTGmI/s1600/Togayther+12.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Project Pride is the teen LGBTQ+ and straight allied theatre troupe of which I am co-director. The intention of the group is to give teens a vehicle to express themselves, to educate audiences about the challenges of being a queer teen, so we can give them what they need for support (not what just we think they need). They spend months devising scenes, which the directors then help shape into a cohesive performance piece.<br />
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I've done a lot of theatre in my life. I've done a lot of all kinds of performancy things. I've directed a lot. I've had a lot of acting students.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8F4_41I4fQBTXjn2jPPFI12JQRkGVMIkgqlc0GC6mGa8JphpCXvz47FPxHrCYYSWtBfa8aooLzfGw-Q4f7mVBYtDUG8GNlx2qZjJ3yAuBM_xp2WhCOXlNMf1eSfl5UNMOLviKLllUX8/s1600/Don't%2BBe%2BThat%2BGuy%2B3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8F4_41I4fQBTXjn2jPPFI12JQRkGVMIkgqlc0GC6mGa8JphpCXvz47FPxHrCYYSWtBfa8aooLzfGw-Q4f7mVBYtDUG8GNlx2qZjJ3yAuBM_xp2WhCOXlNMf1eSfl5UNMOLviKLllUX8/s1600/Don't%2BBe%2BThat%2BGuy%2B3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Project Pride has been one of the most important and profoundly moving experiences of my life. These young people astound me on a regular basis, with their acceptance of each other, their passion and enthusiasm, their strength, their compassion, and their determination to make the world a more loving place.<br />
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It is not easy for them. Nor is it always easy to support them. The world is full of people who are too-ready to jump to conclusions, be proud of their ignorance, and reject things they don't understand. <br />
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But these young people need us to be on their side. <br />
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And I need them. They are beautiful.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6BllksfRRSftDgZJBu3K7IpZsbQihylXtw-799RJouhMkFeQwDjr_5Dk2hjHRBzLfhkmQI7PS18rKMWsnjXEUCQ8GOFzaj6NRz8YjHGxy4h25VtyzV9LzYs7GrK5f8m_xYfitRLunJU/s1600/1-19-15+%2315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC6BllksfRRSftDgZJBu3K7IpZsbQihylXtw-799RJouhMkFeQwDjr_5Dk2hjHRBzLfhkmQI7PS18rKMWsnjXEUCQ8GOFzaj6NRz8YjHGxy4h25VtyzV9LzYs7GrK5f8m_xYfitRLunJU/s1600/1-19-15+%2315.jpg" height="280" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here is the link to our Facebook event page, for more information about the show this weekend: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/879041238785172/">https://www.facebook.com/events/879041238785172/</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV3_E6K1D02I-I1YHAYXFNHI_AVI-tf89v1vEkWDs5lVXuwK56LW7AuuBAHOMJ9A4Ow8_9ElDA3JO7LqvgR0LE31fD2QhvlwpjGYsJ7e1vKK69szmg8_1ganZXkTtdITr_F5u6JuxPK4k/s1600/1-19-15+%2320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV3_E6K1D02I-I1YHAYXFNHI_AVI-tf89v1vEkWDs5lVXuwK56LW7AuuBAHOMJ9A4Ow8_9ElDA3JO7LqvgR0LE31fD2QhvlwpjGYsJ7e1vKK69szmg8_1ganZXkTtdITr_F5u6JuxPK4k/s1600/1-19-15+%2320.jpg" height="323" width="400" /></a></div>
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Please join us. There is laughter and silliness, and poignancy and depth. But mostly, there is love.<br />
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Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-27841388361751284552015-02-12T13:53:00.001-08:002015-02-12T13:58:59.476-08:00It's a Beautiful Day for Good News, Vol. 5A new installment of my semi-regular serial attempt to counteract the message from common media that The World is a Sad, Bad, Dangerous Place. Good stuff happens all the time. <br />
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Australia's <a href="http://mic.com/articles/106442/australians-show-the-world-exactly-how-to-respond-to-terrorism-with-ill-ride-with-you" target="_blank">hostage crisis</a> in December brought out the best in some people.<br />
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A <a href="http://twentytwowords.com/this-tattooist-gives-a-customer-with-down-syndrome-free-tattoos-every-single-friday/" target="_blank">tattoo artist</a> doesn't charge his weekly customer.<br />
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A man's inspiring obituary reveals that he is, in fact, <a href="http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_slatest/2014/11/30/aaron_purmort_man_admits_to_being_spider_man_in_touching_obituary.html?wpsrc=fol_fb" target="_blank">Spiderman</a>.<br />
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In a touching and supporting move, parents correct a <a href="http://mic.com/articles/105488/this-family-s-newspaper-retraction-shows-exactly-the-right-way-to-treat-a-transgender-kid" target="_blank">birth announcement</a>, nineteen years later.<br />
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A mom writes an <a href="http://themighty.com/2014/12/to-the-trader-joes-employee-who-noticed-my-family-in-the-parking-lot/" target="_blank">open letter</a> to the Trader Joe's employee who probably doesn't know the impact her actions had.<br />
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Left at the altar, a woman celebrates herself, with the help of her family and friends, in the best <a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/krystieyandoli/after-her-fiance-left-her-at-the-altar-this-bride-took-the-w#.wq0dzw8NM" target="_blank">photo</a> shoot ever.<br />
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In a Philadelphia restaurant, customers pay-it-forward with <a href="http://www.npr.org/blogs/thesalt/2015/01/14/377033772/philadelphia-pizza-lovers-pay-it-forward-one-slice-at-a-time" target="_blank">pizza</a>. <br />
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Now, here's my favorite <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjXi6X-moxE" target="_blank">laughing baby video</a> ever, and a photo of a baby hedgehog.<br />
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<br />Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1256336332588126744.post-11726317890025367762015-01-04T18:35:00.005-08:002015-01-04T18:39:35.579-08:00My 2014 in Review<div style="text-align: left;">
Is it a natural urge to look back on the calendar year and weigh it as positive or negative, productive or wasted? Or is it an act of artificial significance, thrust upon us by society ("2014 sucked for me") and the media ("Best Dressed Stars of 2014," "Those We Lost in 2014," etc.)? </div>
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New Year resolutions never made much sense to me. If you know you want to make changes, why don't you make them as soon as you think of it? Why wait for a certain date? Is it the arbitrary declaration of a "new year = fresh slate" or something?</div>
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Regardless, I was going through a dark period a few months ago, and decided to list what I'd accomplished so far in 2014. It did make me feel better, so maybe there's something to reviewing the year after all. So...</div>
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>TARA'S YEAR IN REVIEW</em></span> </div>
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WRITING:</div>
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<em>Variations on a Theme</em>: a 60-minute one-act, with a staged reading at the Fishtank</div>
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<em>Role Play</em>: a short play, with a staged reading at the Fishtank</div>
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<em>In the Cradle</em>: a short play</div>
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"The Cute Little Woman, Young Jacob, and Me": a story-poem, conceived as a children's book</div>
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"Road Trip": a poem of uncertain genre</div>
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(And drafts of a play that we hope to be our 2015 Fringe entry...)</div>
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DIRECTING:</div>
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<em>Variations on a Theme</em>: staged reading at the Fishtank</div>
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<em>Role Play</em>: staged reading at the Fishtank</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
<em>American Institution</em>, by Bryan Colley: staged reading at the Midwest Dramatists Center</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Project Pride presents: Queerios!</em>: co-director, stage production at The Coterie and KC Fringe</div>
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<em>Project Pride presents: We Are</em>: co-director, stage production at TedX YouthKC</div>
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<em>Red Death</em>: opera by Bryan Colley and Daniel Doss, at KC Fringe</div>
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<em>Honk, Jr</em>: stage production for the Coterie Acts</div>
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PERFORMING:</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
"The Cute Little Woman, Young Jacob, and Me": a story-poem (at two different events)</div>
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<em>Bad Auditions</em>, directed by Kevin King: KC Fringe</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
<em>Variations on a Theme</em>: Narrator</div>
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<em>Role Play</em>: Narrator</div>
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<em>American Institution</em>, by Bryan Colley: Narrator</div>
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Pecha Kucha, at the Middle of the Map Festival</div>
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Dickens Carolers: my eleventh (?) season</div>
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TEACHING:</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Superheroes Save the Day, grades 2-4: The Coterie</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Sketch Comedy, grades 8-12: The Coterie</div>
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Be and Awesome Inventor Like Phineas and Ferb, grades 2-4: The Coterie</div>
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Audition Lab, grades 8-12: The Coterie</div>
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Funny Bones, grades 5-7: The Coterie</div>
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Make a Scene, grades 3-5: The Coterie</div>
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Make a Scene, grades 3-5 (again): The Coterie</div>
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Scenes from a Dystopian Future, grades 8-12: The Coterie</div>
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Mythical Creature Academy, grades 2-4: The Coterie</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Acting Fundamentals, grades 5-7: The Coterie</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
The Very Hungry Caterpillar, grades K-1: Community School of the Arts</div>
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Dramarama (playwriting), grades 3-5</div>
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Dramarama (acting), grades 4-5</div>
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Dramarama (acting), grades 2-3</div>
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Dramarama (acting), grades K-1</div>
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...which, by the way, brings my total number of students (since 2011, when I thought to start counting) to 728.</div>
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That's a lot in one year. I think. I don't know, it's just what I do.</div>
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From here, at the top of the 2015 ride, I'm looking the first half of the year, which so far contains:</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Teaching "Rock 'n' Roll Roadshow", grades 5-7, for The Coterie (starting January)</div>
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Teaching "The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane," grades 2-4, for The Coterie (starting January)</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Teaching Dramarama Acting, grades 2-3 (starting January)</div>
</li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Teaching Dramarama Acting, grades K-1 (starting April)</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Directing the staged reading of <em>Amanuensis</em>, by Bryan Colley (February)</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Co-directing Project Pride's performance at the Coterie (March)</div>
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Leading a children's improv workshop for Johnson County Public Libraries (March)</div>
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<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Performing in <em>White Rabbit, Red Rabbit </em>(March)</div>
</li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Directing <em>Silver</em>, a ballet noir by Christian Hankel (July)</div>
</li>
<li><div style="text-align: left;">
Writing/directing/producing a new original play at KC Fringe (July)</div>
</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</ul>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think I'm going to bed now. I need to rest up.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em></em><br /></div>
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</div>
Tarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00588403123486535731noreply@blogger.com0