I suppose at some point I'll be posting regularly, but right now it's easy to just let weeks go by while I'm busy doing all the little things that one does when one is busy doing things. How to be more reflective? I'm keeping a list of stuff that happens and then going back to expand the thought when time seems to allow or the spirit moves or what have you.
Waiting...the pretender syndrome continues...more waiting. The month of November was mostly about getting the grad school applications done. It seems like there is an interesting assortment of schools represented now that I am basically done with this process. I say basically because I am still going to create two more videos related to The Street Project and The Crucible and then combine those with the longer overview video into a DVD that I will send to the schools. Meanwhile, I have an essay to finish for Brown and an essay to finish for UNLV. Should have all of that done this week. So, I initiated applications for Yale, Brown, UT Austin, UC San Diego, Portland, Columbia, MN Mankato, UNLV, and the University of Iowa. In addition, the following schools participate in the NUIA process: Illinois, Indiana, CalArts, UC Irvine, Florida State, and Purdue. Now I wait until mid-January when they announce decisions about who will be invited to interview.
15 schools, many of whom are only accepting two or three MFA Directing candidates...so, what...maybe 50 spots all told? How many applicants are they browsing through? 300? 500? 1,000? Pretty long odds. So my thoughts start to drift back to plan B. Travel for a year and then return to Minneapolis to live cheaply and do nothing but theater. Work in box offices and do odd theater jobs. Teach workshops? Intern at places like The Guthrie. Look for paid directing gigs. Avoid January and February commitments and look for internships or other opportunities in THE SOUTH during those months. The year spent traveling could provide some opportunities to make some connections. It's not a bad plan and gets at the essential thing that I am seeking -- a life that is focused on the activities that I am most engaged by.
Of course, that doesn't mean that Plan A isn't going to still work out. Its really hard to imagine how my credentials stack up. The places where I have done my work are not high profile (a high school and a theater operating out of a church...doesn't exactly scream cutting edge). I know that lots of great things have happened in those spaces and I believe in what I bring to this party, but it's hard to communicate it on paper or even in video. I look at the video I did and it seems to communicate such a litany of traditional presentations of known stuff. The things around the edges...The Street Project...Nineteen Cows...Everyman...all the strange original one acts...those things get a bit lost in the way my portfolio presents itself. There is little in the way of artsy video footage of theatrical experimentation. And then there's the age thing...which folks are quick to assure me is not a deal breaker and in some instances can be useful...but it would probably have been more useful if I did this about a decade earlier (of course, a decade ago I was just starting this part of this journey). And then there's the extent to which my gifts are not strictly academic...can't remember titles, characters, plots, etc. I imagine that in the interview there will be lots of opportunities for me to acknowledge large gaps in my ability to access allusory material. In any case, it's very easy to see how Plan A might not work out. I just need to bring all the folks who believe in me along to the interview. ;-)
Wow, that's a lot of negative thinking. How do you communicate a life? And I hate trying to sell myself. Brag! Okay... Balance those negative thoughts against the innumerable ways in which I see great moments and have a vision for edgy and creative images and settings that would be so much more easily expressed in the kinds of settings that an MFA Directing program might provide. Against the many folks who seem to believe that these programs would be lucky to have me. Against the sheer volume of work that I've done in the past decade. Against my ability to be engaging and passionate in an interview. Against the fact that I have absolutely nothing to lose. It's not so bad. Just really long odds.
***sigh*** probably should think about something else
Recapping my wonderful journey to Portland, Maine!
First of all, the area where I was staying, which was in Gorham, ME, was as charming as you would expect it to be. Everywhere you looked were this colonial homes looking like they'd been there for hundreds of years, which most of them probably had. It was interesting, too, that they were all very lived in looking. Not run down, but lived in. Each one was its own unique home...all in a similar style but also very different. Some had clearly been cared for deeply and possibly even gotten some renovation work in recent years. Many had electric candles in the windows rounding out that holiday look.
The B&B I stayed in, the PineCrest Inn, was completely wonderful. Okay, backing up, so here's the weekend...
I flew Delta, which has always in the past been a particularly painful experience for me. I'm quite sure that for a time they had the narrowest seats in the airline industry. I have since learned that it's worth the extra $20 or $30 to upgrade to an exit row or something to get a little extra leg room, and that has helped. So the flight from Mpls to Detroit was uneventful and pleasant. I read and listen to music from my iPad, and its a great way to travel. The plane from Detroit to Portland was a new experience for me as it was a small commuter jet...probably had room for about 70 folks? And the seats were super tiny. Everything was super tiny. Kind of flying in miniature. Also, they made me check my bag which had I known that it would go that way I would have just checked it on the front end in Mpls...but live and learn. In any event, it was comfortable enough and in short order we were bouncing around on the approach into the Portland airport. Lots of water and industrial looking wharf laden images. On a gray day from the air there wasn't much about it that looked appealing...lots of sailboats, which was cool.
I arrive and my host, Rick, met me at the baggage claim along with another traveler...David Sumner, an old college friend of Ricks' who is a designer and is doing the keynote for the conference. We hop in Rick's car and head out to the Gorham High School, where preparations are under way for their Regional Thespian Conference, scheduled to start the next morning. This is why I am there in the first place. Normally the EDTA sends a representative from the home office in Cincinnati to attend conferences, but when things are busy they will ask state reps from other locales if they would be willing to stand in for them, which I was and I did. It's a great way to attend a Thespian Conference. You have very little in the way of responsibilities, though you can be useful, and you get to see how other States handle their conference.
Anyway, we get to the school and immediately begin stuffing registration bags and sorting t-shirts. Dinner is planned for around 6:30 and since we arrived at 4:30 or so there is plenty of time to get lots done. They have plenty of volunteers and by around 6:00 the work is getting wrapped up. Rick is busily arranging the dinner to be delivered and set up, and since I need to check in at the B&B by 7:00, he gives me a quick ride to the Inn (it's only a few blocks away) as he is waiting for the last of the food.
Scene shift to the parking lot of the PineCrest Inn. A large colonial home with an extension in the rear that turns out to be a private dining room. I wave goodbye to Rick, promising to walk over to the High School after I get checked in, and find my way to the entrance, which is situated a bit to the rear and turns to deposit me in the kitchen of the dining room. This is, in fact, the main entrance, and I am met immediately by a blast of warm, rich, staggeringly aromatically overwhelmingness. There are two or three folks working in the kitchen and to my left is a door through which I can see diners and a waitress. "I'll let Matt know you're here," they tell me; which I didn't entirely get until I thought it through a few moments later. So, I wandered to the room to my right, which has a little hotel type counter for registering and appears to be the office area of the Inn. There are several very comfortable chairs and a love seat and, since Matt doesn't immediately appear, I settled into a stuffed chair and just basked in the aromas and images. It was cold in Portland that day. Biting winds and damp temps that, even for someone from Minnesota, made the contrast with the warm Inn remarkable and pleasing.
Apparently, the chef forgot about me, so it was a bit later that Matt appeared, apologetic and ready to get me checked in. Did I care that he took a while? I did not. Could I have sat there for quite a while...indeed, I could have -- though at some point I would have ordered a glass of wine. In any event, after working out some changes in the reservation (they had me leaving Monday rather than Sunday...which would have been nice but wasn't in the cards) Matt showed me to my room and wandered back to help with the dinner service. The room was predictably lovely...quaint and comfortable. I dropped my bag and headed back out for my walk to the high school where I was going to be eating catered pasta and such. ...and it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I could get back to the B&B in time to enjoy some of its benefits...perhaps...one could hope...
On the way out the door, "How late do you serve dinner?" Matt says, "We usually do our last seating at 7:00 or 7:30." I look at the clock...it's 6:45. Hmmmm..... I exit into the cold world and trudge up the street to the Gorham High School. A new school, by the way. Very nice. So I arrive at the school...all of the things that need doing are done (check)...I have no other duties (check)...it's still only 6:55 (check). "Rick, do you need me anymore?" "No." "Well, then, I think I'll wander back to the Inn and eat there, if you don't mind..." "Not at all."
Out the door. Down the street. Quickly. Damn, it's cold out.
Into the Inn, into the dining room, belly up to the bar...to begin a several hour journey through a truly wonderful assortment of gourmet foods and fine beverages while enjoying a good book and warm ambiance. First, the setting. The dining room is attached to the back of the house, a few steps down from the kitchen, with a hall that runs along the kitchen back to the main part of the house. It could have been a shed and couldn't have been more than thirty feet square. A bar was situated against the common wall with a little passthrough window, so that Matt could tend bar but could also communicate back to the kitchen. There were two people working in the kitchen, a waitress (Kat) and Matt. That was it. There were maybe eight or nine tables plus seating for about six at the bar. Apparently, Matt can't get a license for a regular restaurant, so the dining room is a private club (named 91 South) and can't advertise. It's only open on the weekend (Thursday through Sunday) and only seats for a few hours. They have a small menu, but ooh, la, la.
Lots of wood. Lots of candles. Warm. Friendly. Classy but not too formal.
Here's what I ate...don't ask what it cost.
Pinotage wine. -- Matt has taken advantage of having opened the inn to become knowledgeable about wine. Any of you who have done this know that it takes a fair amount of time and energy to really do it right. Matt shared some interesting stories about his journey into wines and the various tastings he had enjoyed. Clearly, it would take some time to get to a place where you could taste dozens of wines and make any sense of it. In any case, he was promoting a wine made from Pinotage, which is not a blend of grapes but a hybrid grape. My habit of late has been to just ask people like Matt, "what would you recommend?" Folks in the service industry make a career out of having knowledgeable opinions about what is best, and I am finding that following their lead is way better than guessing about what I might like. In any event, it was splendid.
Ceasar salad with paprika. -- Really interesting way to do salad. The paprika blend had a number of different paprikas and really gave the salad a zippy and unexpected flavor.
Louisiana shrimp étouffée with shelled Maine lobster. This was absolutely scrumptious. Enough said.
Foccacia dukkah. Foccacia slices and a small dish of olive oil, in which you dip the bread, and then the dukkah is an eastern blend of spices and nuts. Really tasty, light but delicious.
After dinner I was thinking about having something other than wine and there was a bottle on the shelf I had never seen. Tuaca. A bourbon with lemon and vanilla. Yummy. I had several of these after dinner, the last one blended with decaf coffee and Gran Marnier.
And lovely conversation. Matt turns out to be a former thespian with notions of opening his own one man show, and Kat was delightful and lovely. It was a really charming evening all the way around. I stayed there until the staff were having their own nightcaps and then excused myself to my bed.
The next morning is December 1st...I'll leave the rest of the story for the next post!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
The Sabbatical: The Updated Purpose Statement
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Or, perhaps as Richard Robichaux more elegantly described it to me, I have discovered the emptiness of my cup and am anxious to spend some time filling it.
Fifty years appears to be long enough for me to have acquired some skills, played with finding ways to implement those skills, and finally recognize that I know so very little about what I am doing. My cup has been filled over and over again by the experiences I have had working with actors, students, directors, designers, technicians, managers, patrons, administrators...the list of intertwining folks who have shared this journey with me is expansive. It is from these people and the work I have done with them that I have learned so much. Yet, up until this point this journey has been a spur in my life; an apparent bird walk beyond the agenda of daily living.
When I was ten, which was just over forty years ago, I read Inherit the Wind. I was moved and inspired by this play. It made me so want to be a lawyer and throughout my life that fantasy of the intellectual playground of the law flirted with me. Although I produced the play in my garage, it didn’t occur to me then that the real love affair was not with the subject of the play or the law, but with the act of playing itself. I have no memory of this production of Inherit the Wind...which is probably a blessing. I cannot imagine it was at all watchable or that there were very many patrons present to watch it, yet there it was.
For reasons having nothing to do with interest, I was not able to participate in theater in high school. When I entered the University of Minnesota in 1979 I registered for Arthur Ballet’s introductory theater course and enjoyed it, but it wasn’t until I began ushering for a local community theater, Theater in the Round, that a vision of being part of the creation of theater began to become something I could see. Over the following several years I volunteered for more front of house positions, then ran a light board and a sound board, then became involved in construction and finally became a stage manager for shows at Theater in the Round.
Within this time it was the rehearsal process that unpacked for me the real delight and energy of the creation of theater. The thrill of performance and audience was obvious, but the deeper draw was in the rehearsal process. I worked with some reasonably skilled directors during this time, and their abilities in relation to working with actors and communicating their vision of the beauty of the play were inspirational for me. There was a joy in this work that I was drawn to.
At the same time, I had no vision of what this would look like as a career. I lacked an understanding of how to share my passion with others and so lacked a mentor to guide me into the fold, and my singularly dysfunctional experiences in academics at the University of Minnesota at that time left me without an entrance pass to this world. In some ways it is almost inconceivable to me that I found myself on a different path, and yet the exigencies of economic survival along with a tumultuous journey in my own mental health and understanding of how to be an adult required that I seek more secure and traditional pastures in which to settle during those years. so, by the time I was in my thirties I had left this world behind in exchange for a more stable and traditional life of work and family. It would appear that at this time my cup was filled with other things, and there was no room for my love of theater.
Fast forward to 2001, when I left my work with our family business I once again flirted with pursuing law, but accurately perceived that I was more drawn to work that had greater potential for being relational and creative. Consequently, I obtained my license to teach Communication Arts in Minnesota. As I worked through the teacher training program I was aware of the possibility that when I found a job in a high school there would be potential for a renewal of my involvement in theater. Perhaps I could find a job where there was a need for someone to direct their plays? Lo and behold, there was. I began work at Roseville Area High School in the Fall of 2001 and between then and now I have directed fourteen mainstage shows and a host of one acts. At the same time, we created a community theater in the theater of a local church, and I have directed another fourteen full length shows there. Over the past eleven years my involvement in theater has grown from the first year when I directed one show to the more recent years when I have opened between five or more productions per year -- all while continuing to hold my full time job with the school district and to be a parent to my two wonderful kids.
It is not, however, about volume. It is about joy, and also about how well this work fits with my skills and passion. I believe passionately in the power of the creation of a safe space within which talented and creative people can work in community to trust their intuition and make beautiful things happen. I am patient, creative, energized and thoughtful in the creation of those spaces. I have an ability to set my ego aside and serve the needs of the production. I have experienced wonderful success in my development as a director, and I am extraordinarily excited about setting aside the things that have distracted me from pursuing this art and making it the full time work of my remaining years. I am busily emptying my cup in anticipation of this opportunity to fill it.
When I was young, the natural question that folks would ask would be, “What do you want to do after you finish school?” At that time, since it took me twenty years to finish my undergraduate degree, that was a particularly complex and vexing question. It is interesting now, however, that the choices I might make after I complete an MFA in Directing are considerably less pressing or significant that they manner in which I would engage the program itself and how myself and the program would benefit from that experience. What is immediately exciting to me is the experience of the learning that would take place within the MFA program itself. When thinking about the goals or purpose of obtaining this degree, the most primary and immediate goal is to benefit and embrace the act of obtaining it. I have an almost greedy desire to enter into a world in which I am completely immersed in the exploration of the craft of directing. I look forward to becoming more skilled with all of its elements, from textual analysis to technical vision to relations with actors and on and on. While I have some background and knowledge related to the history of theater, there is so much missing from my knowledge and I look forward to filling the content knowledge part of my cup as well. There is so much richness and complexity to the craft, and I look forward to deepening my ability to navigate those challenges.
At the same time, there is a future beyond the program, and where I might venture in that future is an interesting and equally exciting question. The idea of working as a professor in an educational institution is very attractive. I was, and am, a very skilled teacher and I would enjoy merging those skills with my developing skills as a director to utilize them in concert in a post-secondary setting. I am also attracted by the idea of securing a position as a director in a professional setting. I have had numerous experiences in the past decade directing shows where I was also the producer and the front of house manager and so on. I have had a few tastes of what it might be like to be directing within a context where the business of theater is being managed for me and would dearly love to have more. While I bring some useful skills as a manager and businessman, to have those elements off my plate provides so much more room for my energy to be focused on creative process. I have many interests, and am confident that an MFA in Directing will allow me to find contexts that fit those interests and that training.
My cup is empty, and I can see that an MFA in Directing program would provide an extraordinary place to fill it up.
Or, perhaps as Richard Robichaux more elegantly described it to me, I have discovered the emptiness of my cup and am anxious to spend some time filling it.
Fifty years appears to be long enough for me to have acquired some skills, played with finding ways to implement those skills, and finally recognize that I know so very little about what I am doing. My cup has been filled over and over again by the experiences I have had working with actors, students, directors, designers, technicians, managers, patrons, administrators...the list of intertwining folks who have shared this journey with me is expansive. It is from these people and the work I have done with them that I have learned so much. Yet, up until this point this journey has been a spur in my life; an apparent bird walk beyond the agenda of daily living.
When I was ten, which was just over forty years ago, I read Inherit the Wind. I was moved and inspired by this play. It made me so want to be a lawyer and throughout my life that fantasy of the intellectual playground of the law flirted with me. Although I produced the play in my garage, it didn’t occur to me then that the real love affair was not with the subject of the play or the law, but with the act of playing itself. I have no memory of this production of Inherit the Wind...which is probably a blessing. I cannot imagine it was at all watchable or that there were very many patrons present to watch it, yet there it was.
For reasons having nothing to do with interest, I was not able to participate in theater in high school. When I entered the University of Minnesota in 1979 I registered for Arthur Ballet’s introductory theater course and enjoyed it, but it wasn’t until I began ushering for a local community theater, Theater in the Round, that a vision of being part of the creation of theater began to become something I could see. Over the following several years I volunteered for more front of house positions, then ran a light board and a sound board, then became involved in construction and finally became a stage manager for shows at Theater in the Round.
Within this time it was the rehearsal process that unpacked for me the real delight and energy of the creation of theater. The thrill of performance and audience was obvious, but the deeper draw was in the rehearsal process. I worked with some reasonably skilled directors during this time, and their abilities in relation to working with actors and communicating their vision of the beauty of the play were inspirational for me. There was a joy in this work that I was drawn to.
At the same time, I had no vision of what this would look like as a career. I lacked an understanding of how to share my passion with others and so lacked a mentor to guide me into the fold, and my singularly dysfunctional experiences in academics at the University of Minnesota at that time left me without an entrance pass to this world. In some ways it is almost inconceivable to me that I found myself on a different path, and yet the exigencies of economic survival along with a tumultuous journey in my own mental health and understanding of how to be an adult required that I seek more secure and traditional pastures in which to settle during those years. so, by the time I was in my thirties I had left this world behind in exchange for a more stable and traditional life of work and family. It would appear that at this time my cup was filled with other things, and there was no room for my love of theater.
Fast forward to 2001, when I left my work with our family business I once again flirted with pursuing law, but accurately perceived that I was more drawn to work that had greater potential for being relational and creative. Consequently, I obtained my license to teach Communication Arts in Minnesota. As I worked through the teacher training program I was aware of the possibility that when I found a job in a high school there would be potential for a renewal of my involvement in theater. Perhaps I could find a job where there was a need for someone to direct their plays? Lo and behold, there was. I began work at Roseville Area High School in the Fall of 2001 and between then and now I have directed fourteen mainstage shows and a host of one acts. At the same time, we created a community theater in the theater of a local church, and I have directed another fourteen full length shows there. Over the past eleven years my involvement in theater has grown from the first year when I directed one show to the more recent years when I have opened between five or more productions per year -- all while continuing to hold my full time job with the school district and to be a parent to my two wonderful kids.
It is not, however, about volume. It is about joy, and also about how well this work fits with my skills and passion. I believe passionately in the power of the creation of a safe space within which talented and creative people can work in community to trust their intuition and make beautiful things happen. I am patient, creative, energized and thoughtful in the creation of those spaces. I have an ability to set my ego aside and serve the needs of the production. I have experienced wonderful success in my development as a director, and I am extraordinarily excited about setting aside the things that have distracted me from pursuing this art and making it the full time work of my remaining years. I am busily emptying my cup in anticipation of this opportunity to fill it.
When I was young, the natural question that folks would ask would be, “What do you want to do after you finish school?” At that time, since it took me twenty years to finish my undergraduate degree, that was a particularly complex and vexing question. It is interesting now, however, that the choices I might make after I complete an MFA in Directing are considerably less pressing or significant that they manner in which I would engage the program itself and how myself and the program would benefit from that experience. What is immediately exciting to me is the experience of the learning that would take place within the MFA program itself. When thinking about the goals or purpose of obtaining this degree, the most primary and immediate goal is to benefit and embrace the act of obtaining it. I have an almost greedy desire to enter into a world in which I am completely immersed in the exploration of the craft of directing. I look forward to becoming more skilled with all of its elements, from textual analysis to technical vision to relations with actors and on and on. While I have some background and knowledge related to the history of theater, there is so much missing from my knowledge and I look forward to filling the content knowledge part of my cup as well. There is so much richness and complexity to the craft, and I look forward to deepening my ability to navigate those challenges.
At the same time, there is a future beyond the program, and where I might venture in that future is an interesting and equally exciting question. The idea of working as a professor in an educational institution is very attractive. I was, and am, a very skilled teacher and I would enjoy merging those skills with my developing skills as a director to utilize them in concert in a post-secondary setting. I am also attracted by the idea of securing a position as a director in a professional setting. I have had numerous experiences in the past decade directing shows where I was also the producer and the front of house manager and so on. I have had a few tastes of what it might be like to be directing within a context where the business of theater is being managed for me and would dearly love to have more. While I bring some useful skills as a manager and businessman, to have those elements off my plate provides so much more room for my energy to be focused on creative process. I have many interests, and am confident that an MFA in Directing will allow me to find contexts that fit those interests and that training.
My cup is empty, and I can see that an MFA in Directing program would provide an extraordinary place to fill it up.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Sabbatical: Day 138
Sabbatical Update...
Doing grad school apps...schools that I am interested in...
Brown University - Prestigious and highly competitive program in Rhode Island where the MFA Directing program is affiliated with Trinity Rep. Long shot to even get an interview, but what they hell...it's only $75.
UNLV - Would need to brush up on my poker skills.
UC San Diego -- Actually this would be a pretty cool option. They have a well regarded program and would probably have an interesting blend of film and stage opportunities. I mean, the program would be a stage directing program, but being on the west coast I could imagine that there would be a film influence.
University of Portland - Cool city. This one is just a two year program, which is a mixed blessing.
Columbia - New York City is good.
Baylor - Yup.
UT Austin -- Met Richard Robichaux this Fall (who teaches there).
Florida State - Golf
University of Hawaii -- Need I say more?
University of Iowa -- Hmmmmm....
Mankato State - Because they only admit one per year this is actually a long shot.
Maybe others? This is my list for now. I might need a couple more mid-level programs. I'm in the process of collecting video footage to make a video portfolio. Most of the rest of my materials are ready, so as soon as the video montage is done I can start sending off my apps. I will take the GRE in December (I think). Only a couple of programs require it.
Have reached the point where my impending absence is becoming common knowledge within the school district. This is useful on so many fronts. Folks are interested in where I am going and why. Also, it puts me in a unique position to have conversations about educational practices and reforms. Of course, it is somewhat freeing for me in regard to how I perceive the work I am doing. I am still quite passionate about the things for which I advocate, but since I won't be here to finish any of it I can be considerably more contented about potential outcomes. It's very zen.
At the same time, there is a growing background buzz in my soul. It's a kind of tension related to change -- and such a large change at such a late stage in life is a recipe for lots of internal buzz. I'm having to be extraordinarily intentional about developing patience. This has benefits. I found myself at rehearsal this week being aware of my tendency to push through the current moment to get to the next moment and watched as I slowed down my awareness and let the current moment percolate for a while. It is letting me be a better director. I have always known that I tend to push the process so that there is lots of coverage but not a lot of depth. It's nice to be pushing into deeper places. Of course, a show like The Street Project lends itself to that. There is more to plumb and less to cover.
Starting to think I might not sell the townhouse. Rental market is quite strong right now and it could be a good fit to rent the place out.
Either way I have a lot of crap to get rid of.
Doing grad school apps...schools that I am interested in...
Brown University - Prestigious and highly competitive program in Rhode Island where the MFA Directing program is affiliated with Trinity Rep. Long shot to even get an interview, but what they hell...it's only $75.
UNLV - Would need to brush up on my poker skills.
UC San Diego -- Actually this would be a pretty cool option. They have a well regarded program and would probably have an interesting blend of film and stage opportunities. I mean, the program would be a stage directing program, but being on the west coast I could imagine that there would be a film influence.
University of Portland - Cool city. This one is just a two year program, which is a mixed blessing.
Columbia - New York City is good.
Baylor - Yup.
UT Austin -- Met Richard Robichaux this Fall (who teaches there).
Florida State - Golf
University of Hawaii -- Need I say more?
University of Iowa -- Hmmmmm....
Mankato State - Because they only admit one per year this is actually a long shot.
Maybe others? This is my list for now. I might need a couple more mid-level programs. I'm in the process of collecting video footage to make a video portfolio. Most of the rest of my materials are ready, so as soon as the video montage is done I can start sending off my apps. I will take the GRE in December (I think). Only a couple of programs require it.
Have reached the point where my impending absence is becoming common knowledge within the school district. This is useful on so many fronts. Folks are interested in where I am going and why. Also, it puts me in a unique position to have conversations about educational practices and reforms. Of course, it is somewhat freeing for me in regard to how I perceive the work I am doing. I am still quite passionate about the things for which I advocate, but since I won't be here to finish any of it I can be considerably more contented about potential outcomes. It's very zen.
At the same time, there is a growing background buzz in my soul. It's a kind of tension related to change -- and such a large change at such a late stage in life is a recipe for lots of internal buzz. I'm having to be extraordinarily intentional about developing patience. This has benefits. I found myself at rehearsal this week being aware of my tendency to push through the current moment to get to the next moment and watched as I slowed down my awareness and let the current moment percolate for a while. It is letting me be a better director. I have always known that I tend to push the process so that there is lots of coverage but not a lot of depth. It's nice to be pushing into deeper places. Of course, a show like The Street Project lends itself to that. There is more to plumb and less to cover.
Starting to think I might not sell the townhouse. Rental market is quite strong right now and it could be a good fit to rent the place out.
Either way I have a lot of crap to get rid of.
Friday, October 19, 2012
By A Stream
The morning sun was still just a suggestion in the air, but the light had made that shift from deep dark to a collection of shapes and grays signaling an end to another cold night on hard ground. The noise of the stream was constant through the night, oblivious to the setting and rising of the sun and the innumerable patterns forced by that movement. The stream just flowed, its water forming natures great White Noise Box. No need to bring your Brookstone Sleep Machine here. All night long the stream continued to churn and flow, the only difference being that the turmoil of its battle with the rocks and fallen branches became phosphorescent in the new light. Age made the night longer, a series of shifts from one shoulder to the other without definition or separation; a continuous movement back and forth and back and forth though clearly the hours that passed confirmed that some kind of time must have elapsed between each shift. The sleep that was available wasn't poor as much as it was just not as pure; tainted by a vague discomfort that was made more manifest by the hard ground but in the end wasn't so different than the sleep found in a comfortable, warm bed.
And of course, the need to pee. The great motivator of the stiff and cold, slowly overwhelming the desire to remain within the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. A pressure perhaps felt dimly during an earlier shift in the total blackness, but ignored -- unlike the normal rhythm of home, where this pressure gets an active response at least once during the night. Sometimes more than once. Sure, there are those rare nights when the head hits the pillow and nothing disturbs sleep until the morning comes and it is sufficiently noteworthy to be worthy of note, "Wow, I slept all the way through the night." And then there is a long, blissful release of fluids. Ah, sweet relief. In the cocoon of the sleeping bag, however, such an interruption or movement out into the cold and dark is so beyond the pale that it is rarely even considered. The subconscious sublimating the desire to pee completely and utterly. And so the morning comes and the slow drive of that pressure begins its dance. A complex calculus is begun in which the benefits of remaining in the warm and cozy cocoon are weighed against the need to find relief.
Pressure too from that other part of the brain that remembers and knows something about the beauty that will be found in the cold and lightening dawn around a campsite. There are rewards to be found in those moments that are not available in the day to day comfortable morning routine of warm and dry and convenient. A breath of cold air made manifest into a whispy trail of condensation...one's personal fog bank that drifts wherever you choose to wander. The contrast between the warmth of the socked feet in dry boots crunching across damp leaves and twigs. The world outside the cocoon is crisp and fresh, but not comfortable, and there is a pleasure in engaging that world and stealing from it the comforts that human ingenuity offer. Efficient clothes, a quick fire, warm coffee. These things appear almost effortlessly and there is then the moment when, armed with these accoutrement's of civilization you can sit silently in the dawn and watch the world rise from its slumber.
And now the stream presented itself for morning inspection. There was no sign of life to be found beyond its motion. No birds or squirrels interrupting the view. This was a harsh world and while the presence of deciduous trees suggested that somewhere there must be life, it too was sluggish and reluctant to venture forth too quickly into the dawn. Some lack of life was a blessing. The sign on the Forest Ranger information board had read, "Large Bear Seen" with yesterday's date. "Large" How large does a bear have to be for one to consider it "Large"? We assumed it was probably bigger than, well, big enough. But our food was safely tucked away and no nocturnal visits had disturbed our health and welfare, so all was well.
And the stream tumbled on. The light grew and the colors found form beyond the greyscale of dawn. The air smelled like new beginnings. The second cup of coffee. Noises from the tents. Another day.
And of course, the need to pee. The great motivator of the stiff and cold, slowly overwhelming the desire to remain within the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. A pressure perhaps felt dimly during an earlier shift in the total blackness, but ignored -- unlike the normal rhythm of home, where this pressure gets an active response at least once during the night. Sometimes more than once. Sure, there are those rare nights when the head hits the pillow and nothing disturbs sleep until the morning comes and it is sufficiently noteworthy to be worthy of note, "Wow, I slept all the way through the night." And then there is a long, blissful release of fluids. Ah, sweet relief. In the cocoon of the sleeping bag, however, such an interruption or movement out into the cold and dark is so beyond the pale that it is rarely even considered. The subconscious sublimating the desire to pee completely and utterly. And so the morning comes and the slow drive of that pressure begins its dance. A complex calculus is begun in which the benefits of remaining in the warm and cozy cocoon are weighed against the need to find relief.
Pressure too from that other part of the brain that remembers and knows something about the beauty that will be found in the cold and lightening dawn around a campsite. There are rewards to be found in those moments that are not available in the day to day comfortable morning routine of warm and dry and convenient. A breath of cold air made manifest into a whispy trail of condensation...one's personal fog bank that drifts wherever you choose to wander. The contrast between the warmth of the socked feet in dry boots crunching across damp leaves and twigs. The world outside the cocoon is crisp and fresh, but not comfortable, and there is a pleasure in engaging that world and stealing from it the comforts that human ingenuity offer. Efficient clothes, a quick fire, warm coffee. These things appear almost effortlessly and there is then the moment when, armed with these accoutrement's of civilization you can sit silently in the dawn and watch the world rise from its slumber.
And now the stream presented itself for morning inspection. There was no sign of life to be found beyond its motion. No birds or squirrels interrupting the view. This was a harsh world and while the presence of deciduous trees suggested that somewhere there must be life, it too was sluggish and reluctant to venture forth too quickly into the dawn. Some lack of life was a blessing. The sign on the Forest Ranger information board had read, "Large Bear Seen" with yesterday's date. "Large" How large does a bear have to be for one to consider it "Large"? We assumed it was probably bigger than, well, big enough. But our food was safely tucked away and no nocturnal visits had disturbed our health and welfare, so all was well.
And the stream tumbled on. The light grew and the colors found form beyond the greyscale of dawn. The air smelled like new beginnings. The second cup of coffee. Noises from the tents. Another day.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
On Being Normal
BLOG READER WARNING -- I have finally told some folks that this thing exists so now there's an audience of more than just myself. I don't know what I was thinking. I was perfectly happy pretending that I was writing for an audience and knowing that nobody was reading any of it. Not that I expect lots of folks to read but now I feel some pressure to be interesting, which is funny and stupid. So I am warning you, dear reader, that you are not my audience. In fact, I am my own audience. I am putting it in a blog in the interest of expanding my audience beyond myself, but I have no idea how to write for you, so I am going to write for me. Consequently, a lot of this is likely to be boring as hell, pedantic, pedestrian and other p words of which I cannot immediately think. There. Now I can eschew that pressure (there's another p word) and just continue jotting thoughts as they occur. Perhaps eventually there will be a readable style going on, but that's not the goal. Too bad for you! ;-)
I think it would be nice to be a normal human being. I know they're out there somewhere. Hello!??!? Maybe not.
I think it would be nice to be a normal human being. I know they're out there somewhere. Hello!??!? Maybe not.
Dictionary.com: conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.
They used to call colleges that trained teachers Normal schools.
Wikipedia: A normal school is a school created to train high school graduates to be teachers. Its purpose is to establish teaching standards or norms, hence its name. Most such schools are now called teachers' colleges; however, in some places the term normal school is still used.
Which is totally weird and is at the root of a lot of what is wrong with schools.
Conforming schools.
Or conforming people. The question is whether conforming is a consummation devoutly to be wished or anathema to real happiness. I mean, you wouldn't want to be called abnormal or irregular or unnatural. On the other hand, most of us don't want to be seen as merely standard or common. We are inevitably conflicted by the definition of normal.
But perhaps most important are the consequences of normality, or the lack thereof. Normal people do lots of things that seem a bit elusive to me. Or maybe its just that the things that are generally elusive are labeled normal because they benefit the labelers.
In the end, though, normal is pretty irrelevant. What matters is happy.
And happy is much more significant and perhaps less elusive. When I think back on the happiest times in my life, they were times when there was a strong synergy between my sense of satisfaction with the integration of family, love, work and play. If you think of normal in terms of being integrated it starts to make more sense.
Happy is what normal does.
Normal is what happy does.
Happy is what happy does.
Normal is what normal does.
What is the intersection between happy and normal and comfortable?
Wiki How has a great list of 10 ways to be happy that I like. You can use it to self-assess your happiness. There's probably a number that can be assigned to it...people like having scores.
1. Be Optimistic -- This is an easy one for me. I am optimistic to the point of living in a fantasy of positive expectations. I believe everything will always turn out alright. Actually, they don't really do that, but I think it doesn't matter. My experience is that often times, if you keep believing that something will work, then it will work. It's infectious, too. If you think something will work, the people around you will also believe it and if everyone believes it, well then there you have it. This is particularly useful with my work with theater, where a great deal of faith is required. Optimism is a kind of faith. It's a faith in the future. If you don't have faith in the future it's hard to be happy.
2. Have Something to Look Forward To, Always -- In an earlier blog I talked about anticipation, which is like this. Anticipation is often as good as the real thing. I love watching this happen with movies or books that are coming out. Folks will wrap their whole existence around that moment when their anticipated favorite film or book arrives. The midnight opening or release. Of course, at this moment my whole life is wrapped around something to look forward to, and that's definitely raised my happiness quotient. At the same time, you can't live for the future. There's a big difference between anticipating and wishing the current context was over. "I'll be happy as soon as..." is a fallacy. If you are happy already, then you can anticipate with happiness. It's about Joy.
3. Follow Your Gut -- Well, this is mine to a fault. If something feels right, I am totally there! Oh, yeah, let's follow that feeling. The hell with discipline or reflection! Hmmm.... Something resonates here around conformity...don't conform if it doesn't feel right. Something like that.
4. Make Enough Money to Meet Basic Needs -- Apparently that's about $40K in the US. That's one of the scary things about this upcoming journey...no income! I guess the other nine ways to be happy will have to be enough!
5. Stay Close to Friends and Family -- Oofff...this is a hard one for me. I'm not good at maintaining contact with people. When I do manage to connect with folks we will typically have lots of #6, so that's good! But connections are infrequent. Part of this has to do with being busy, but for an introvert there's the constant impulse to just go home and read a book. Particularly given how social the work I do in theater can be. Even though its at arms length, when I'm directing I am in a completely intensely social environment and a I think that as a balance to that I retreat to solitude a lot to recharge. But it is important to do this.
6. Have Deep Meaningful Conversations -- This is something I am happy to do at the drop of a hat. In fact, it is one of the things that I enjoy the most and I think I can make other people crazy around it. At the same time, I'm can be completely guarded and folks have no idea what I'm thinking. Like I'm an egg easy over sitting on your toast. Everything is all packaged up and neat but then when you poke it the yolk gets everywhere! Very messy.
7. Find Happiness in the Job You Have Now -- Yeah. That's good advice. I keep trying to do that but it's a struggle. I get that the grass is not greener on the other side of that there fence. In fact, it's the same damn grass, most of the time, and moving over the fence rarely fixes anything in the long run. On the other hand, sometimes the history of a place and a position are such that a change is indeed for the best.
8. Smile -- I like this. I do this.
9. Forgive -- I do this too. People generally mean well and if we weren't so narcissistic we'd probably tend to have less stuff to forgive in the first place. If someone hurt you it's likely they were thinking about something else. Still, sometimes it hurts anyway.
10. Make Friends -- Not so much. People are hard to get to know. And annoying. Ha! Not a good outlook I suppose. And I'm busy. I'm too busy to do a good job of connecting with the people I already know without having to figure out how to manage new relationships.
Hmmmm...#5 and #10 don't bode well. Perhaps normal has something to do with not being isolated?
There is a rhythm to happy as well. It ebbs and flows. It's nice when it all works together. Then change happens...and you can feel euphoria or enthusiasm, but real happiness gets built over a longer span of time.
Allright, enough bullshit for one post.
In the end, though, normal is pretty irrelevant. What matters is happy.
And happy is much more significant and perhaps less elusive. When I think back on the happiest times in my life, they were times when there was a strong synergy between my sense of satisfaction with the integration of family, love, work and play. If you think of normal in terms of being integrated it starts to make more sense.
Happy is what normal does.
Normal is what happy does.
Happy is what happy does.
Normal is what normal does.
What is the intersection between happy and normal and comfortable?
Wiki How has a great list of 10 ways to be happy that I like. You can use it to self-assess your happiness. There's probably a number that can be assigned to it...people like having scores.
1. Be Optimistic -- This is an easy one for me. I am optimistic to the point of living in a fantasy of positive expectations. I believe everything will always turn out alright. Actually, they don't really do that, but I think it doesn't matter. My experience is that often times, if you keep believing that something will work, then it will work. It's infectious, too. If you think something will work, the people around you will also believe it and if everyone believes it, well then there you have it. This is particularly useful with my work with theater, where a great deal of faith is required. Optimism is a kind of faith. It's a faith in the future. If you don't have faith in the future it's hard to be happy.
2. Have Something to Look Forward To, Always -- In an earlier blog I talked about anticipation, which is like this. Anticipation is often as good as the real thing. I love watching this happen with movies or books that are coming out. Folks will wrap their whole existence around that moment when their anticipated favorite film or book arrives. The midnight opening or release. Of course, at this moment my whole life is wrapped around something to look forward to, and that's definitely raised my happiness quotient. At the same time, you can't live for the future. There's a big difference between anticipating and wishing the current context was over. "I'll be happy as soon as..." is a fallacy. If you are happy already, then you can anticipate with happiness. It's about Joy.
3. Follow Your Gut -- Well, this is mine to a fault. If something feels right, I am totally there! Oh, yeah, let's follow that feeling. The hell with discipline or reflection! Hmmm.... Something resonates here around conformity...don't conform if it doesn't feel right. Something like that.
4. Make Enough Money to Meet Basic Needs -- Apparently that's about $40K in the US. That's one of the scary things about this upcoming journey...no income! I guess the other nine ways to be happy will have to be enough!
5. Stay Close to Friends and Family -- Oofff...this is a hard one for me. I'm not good at maintaining contact with people. When I do manage to connect with folks we will typically have lots of #6, so that's good! But connections are infrequent. Part of this has to do with being busy, but for an introvert there's the constant impulse to just go home and read a book. Particularly given how social the work I do in theater can be. Even though its at arms length, when I'm directing I am in a completely intensely social environment and a I think that as a balance to that I retreat to solitude a lot to recharge. But it is important to do this.
6. Have Deep Meaningful Conversations -- This is something I am happy to do at the drop of a hat. In fact, it is one of the things that I enjoy the most and I think I can make other people crazy around it. At the same time, I'm can be completely guarded and folks have no idea what I'm thinking. Like I'm an egg easy over sitting on your toast. Everything is all packaged up and neat but then when you poke it the yolk gets everywhere! Very messy.
7. Find Happiness in the Job You Have Now -- Yeah. That's good advice. I keep trying to do that but it's a struggle. I get that the grass is not greener on the other side of that there fence. In fact, it's the same damn grass, most of the time, and moving over the fence rarely fixes anything in the long run. On the other hand, sometimes the history of a place and a position are such that a change is indeed for the best.
8. Smile -- I like this. I do this.
9. Forgive -- I do this too. People generally mean well and if we weren't so narcissistic we'd probably tend to have less stuff to forgive in the first place. If someone hurt you it's likely they were thinking about something else. Still, sometimes it hurts anyway.
10. Make Friends -- Not so much. People are hard to get to know. And annoying. Ha! Not a good outlook I suppose. And I'm busy. I'm too busy to do a good job of connecting with the people I already know without having to figure out how to manage new relationships.
Hmmmm...#5 and #10 don't bode well. Perhaps normal has something to do with not being isolated?
There is a rhythm to happy as well. It ebbs and flows. It's nice when it all works together. Then change happens...and you can feel euphoria or enthusiasm, but real happiness gets built over a longer span of time.
Allright, enough bullshit for one post.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
On Being in New York
Anticipating the opportunity to travel in the next couple of years I was prompted to recall the first time I traveled to New York City, and the times since then that I was lucky enough to go back. New York City feels like such an elusive target. It's a place that people get excited about visiting, or being in, or living in, or being from, or anything. It has its own mythology that lives beyond its reality and yet is really alive and around you as you walk the streets. You don't have to say you are going to New York City. You can just say New York, because anywhere else requires the qualification, not the city itself. There is a bit of time travel to it, as if you are somewhere not just far from home, but somewhere separate from the planet that we walk when we are not there. There are other places like this...places that should probably make the bucket list and be a part of the fabric of a life richly lived.
I was twenty the first time I went as an adult. I know I had been there before...we lived in southern New Jersey and so going through or stopping in New York was a part of living in that part of the country. My parents tell the story of my father being on Jeopardy, but they didn't have the money for parking so my mother drove around the block, presumably with me in the car seat (one of the first of these now ubiquitous devices) until he was done. I don't remember this, but I can blame that lack of memory on the fact that I was not yet three rather than on my more frequent confession that my memory is horrid. During grade school I remember being in the museums and the various tourist stops. As a teenager, on an occasion or two I visited the city, though not Manhattan, with my father and step-mother to visit her Italian family, which has its own New York mythology.
So, it's 1982 and I had dropped out of college, quit my jobs, packed up my Honda Prelude with all my belongings and headed off for adventure. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Apparently a lifelong yearning, but when I tried it at twenty there was so much baggage and insanity swirling around my life...and fear...that I hadn't the capacity to sustain the journey. After a couple of months I came home. It was, of course, the middle of the deepest recession of my adult life (until the most recent one, of course) so there was no work. But those are other stories for another time.
So I get in my Prelude and head for Philadelphia to land with my dad and do temp work and whatever else I can figure out. Kevin Carr followed me out there (or led...I don't recall except that I had a reason to be there...family...and I don't recall Kevin's reason to be there). He may have stayed with my dad's family for a bit, but he had his own place shortly and he managed to land a job with a restaurant, which I could not. I think I was gushing dysfunctional vibes at the time, so I wasn't very employable even if there wasn't a recession. The whole visit to Philadelphia only lasted a few months and included some interesting odd jobs, a girl, and some really bad poetry.
Anyway...
Kevin's father had a conference to attend in New York during this period and Kevin was going to go up to New York and visit him, so we went to New York for the weekend. He was staying in some fancy hotel, but of course hotel rooms in NY are teeny, but it didn't matter to us and he let us just crash on the floor. We took the train to NY from Philly, which is the only way to go there. Of course, since then I have visited by plane and also driven in and parked (ouch) but the best thing to do is to go in by train.
I love traveling by train. It is slower than most other ways of getting places, and in the US it doesn't often go where you want to go. But it is in every way superior to other methods of travel. There is an opportunity to connect socially that is unique and mostly I love the rhythm of it. When it's working right and you catch the right mood to do it you can just flow along.
So we emerge from Grand Central a bit wide-eyed but no doubt doing what we can to look like we know where we are...which we don't. NY in the late 70s and 80s had a tough reputation. Crime was pretty much the principal influence on the tone of the place and there was a gritty and dirty flavor to it all that you can see in a lot of the films from that period that are set there. There was nothing transcendent about it that I ever saw. Instead, it was all raw and edged and harsh and somehow violent. A bit like a flesh eating plant. A really large flesh eating plant. Like big enough to devour you, and your friends, and your friends' friends. Beautiful, but completely dangerous.
From there was a wonderful couple of days of wandering and discovering. Like all visits to New York, it was too short. We were pretty much broke so little of what we did involved getting off the streets. Except for one moment, and this is the moment that stands out from this visit as the most sparkling. The hotel was in mid-town and Kevin's father is very cool and one of the nights we were there, after his conference events ended he led us uptown a couple of blocks and we went down to a basement level bar to listen to some jazz. Great jazz. Smooth and dark and blue and we were taken to a completely new place.
And then after NY, we went to Vermont, where Kevin had family and we skiied at Stowe and I lost a contact so I drove back to Philly from Vermont with one eye.
And that's the first layer of New York, but there are more layers to uncover. There are places in our lives that have these layers. Like we know the place in different ways depending on who we were or who we were with when we were there. Or are there. A place can change, but more essentially the way we view places changes.
I was twenty the first time I went as an adult. I know I had been there before...we lived in southern New Jersey and so going through or stopping in New York was a part of living in that part of the country. My parents tell the story of my father being on Jeopardy, but they didn't have the money for parking so my mother drove around the block, presumably with me in the car seat (one of the first of these now ubiquitous devices) until he was done. I don't remember this, but I can blame that lack of memory on the fact that I was not yet three rather than on my more frequent confession that my memory is horrid. During grade school I remember being in the museums and the various tourist stops. As a teenager, on an occasion or two I visited the city, though not Manhattan, with my father and step-mother to visit her Italian family, which has its own New York mythology.
So, it's 1982 and I had dropped out of college, quit my jobs, packed up my Honda Prelude with all my belongings and headed off for adventure. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Apparently a lifelong yearning, but when I tried it at twenty there was so much baggage and insanity swirling around my life...and fear...that I hadn't the capacity to sustain the journey. After a couple of months I came home. It was, of course, the middle of the deepest recession of my adult life (until the most recent one, of course) so there was no work. But those are other stories for another time.
So I get in my Prelude and head for Philadelphia to land with my dad and do temp work and whatever else I can figure out. Kevin Carr followed me out there (or led...I don't recall except that I had a reason to be there...family...and I don't recall Kevin's reason to be there). He may have stayed with my dad's family for a bit, but he had his own place shortly and he managed to land a job with a restaurant, which I could not. I think I was gushing dysfunctional vibes at the time, so I wasn't very employable even if there wasn't a recession. The whole visit to Philadelphia only lasted a few months and included some interesting odd jobs, a girl, and some really bad poetry.
Anyway...
Kevin's father had a conference to attend in New York during this period and Kevin was going to go up to New York and visit him, so we went to New York for the weekend. He was staying in some fancy hotel, but of course hotel rooms in NY are teeny, but it didn't matter to us and he let us just crash on the floor. We took the train to NY from Philly, which is the only way to go there. Of course, since then I have visited by plane and also driven in and parked (ouch) but the best thing to do is to go in by train.
I love traveling by train. It is slower than most other ways of getting places, and in the US it doesn't often go where you want to go. But it is in every way superior to other methods of travel. There is an opportunity to connect socially that is unique and mostly I love the rhythm of it. When it's working right and you catch the right mood to do it you can just flow along.
So we emerge from Grand Central a bit wide-eyed but no doubt doing what we can to look like we know where we are...which we don't. NY in the late 70s and 80s had a tough reputation. Crime was pretty much the principal influence on the tone of the place and there was a gritty and dirty flavor to it all that you can see in a lot of the films from that period that are set there. There was nothing transcendent about it that I ever saw. Instead, it was all raw and edged and harsh and somehow violent. A bit like a flesh eating plant. A really large flesh eating plant. Like big enough to devour you, and your friends, and your friends' friends. Beautiful, but completely dangerous.
From there was a wonderful couple of days of wandering and discovering. Like all visits to New York, it was too short. We were pretty much broke so little of what we did involved getting off the streets. Except for one moment, and this is the moment that stands out from this visit as the most sparkling. The hotel was in mid-town and Kevin's father is very cool and one of the nights we were there, after his conference events ended he led us uptown a couple of blocks and we went down to a basement level bar to listen to some jazz. Great jazz. Smooth and dark and blue and we were taken to a completely new place.
And then after NY, we went to Vermont, where Kevin had family and we skiied at Stowe and I lost a contact so I drove back to Philly from Vermont with one eye.
And that's the first layer of New York, but there are more layers to uncover. There are places in our lives that have these layers. Like we know the place in different ways depending on who we were or who we were with when we were there. Or are there. A place can change, but more essentially the way we view places changes.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
And a Purpose Statement
I also am supposed to write a Statement of Purpose for a number of the schools. This is a very short beginning. The actual statement is generally supposed to be about twice this length...
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Or, perhaps as Richard Robichaux more elegantly described it to me, I have discovered the emptiness of my cup and am anxious to spend some time filling it.
Fifty years appears to be long enough for me to have acquired some skills, played with finding ways to implement those skills, and finally recognize that I know so very little about what I am doing. Some of this stems from the fact that I have had a dearth of meaningful learning experiences related to the craft of theater outside of those that were forced on my through the various projects into which I have thrown myself. Interestingly, my age at just over fifty parallels the fact that I have been a significant participant in just over fifty productions. Fifty is a great start toward something, but with the very limited training that I have had, formal or otherwise, I am acutely aware that my understanding of what that start is pushing me toward is somewhat limited.
So the simplest expression of what my purpose is in pursuing an MFA in Directing is that I desire to fill my cup, which I am singularly aware is too empty.
But on the other hand, I know exactly what I’m doing.
I am clearing the decks and shifting gears (and mixing metaphors) in a focused and passionate effort to ensure that the life I lead in this next, and probably terminal, expression of my career is completely focused on the one area of my life that has consistently provided me with joy.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Or, perhaps as Richard Robichaux more elegantly described it to me, I have discovered the emptiness of my cup and am anxious to spend some time filling it.
Fifty years appears to be long enough for me to have acquired some skills, played with finding ways to implement those skills, and finally recognize that I know so very little about what I am doing. Some of this stems from the fact that I have had a dearth of meaningful learning experiences related to the craft of theater outside of those that were forced on my through the various projects into which I have thrown myself. Interestingly, my age at just over fifty parallels the fact that I have been a significant participant in just over fifty productions. Fifty is a great start toward something, but with the very limited training that I have had, formal or otherwise, I am acutely aware that my understanding of what that start is pushing me toward is somewhat limited.
So the simplest expression of what my purpose is in pursuing an MFA in Directing is that I desire to fill my cup, which I am singularly aware is too empty.
But on the other hand, I know exactly what I’m doing.
I am clearing the decks and shifting gears (and mixing metaphors) in a focused and passionate effort to ensure that the life I lead in this next, and probably terminal, expression of my career is completely focused on the one area of my life that has consistently provided me with joy.
An MFA Application Bio
One of the MFA Programs I am applying to is asking for a 500 word bio. Here's a first draft that I am amused by...
Splash: I am 10. I read Inherit the Wind and try and produce it in my garage.
Splash: I am 15. We produce movies with my parent’s Super 8 camera.
Splash: I am 18 and I take my first theater class at the University of Minnesota. I take more, but eventually drop out of college.
Splash: I am 18 and I usher at Theater in the Round, a local high quality community theater. I become increasingly involved there until within a few years I am Chair of the Technical Advisory Board and working as a stage manager with great directors. Which might explain why I’m not having much luck in college.
Splash: I am 22 and we start our own theater company and produce our first show and it’s a mixed bag of success and failure but exciting and engaging and then the financial reality looms and emotional baggage crashes down on us and Splash. That’s over.
And I am 25 and I get married and suddenly there isn’t as much room. And I wander off into a career and there is no Splash.
And for a number of years the waves splash but I am not standing on the shore. Some years I don’t even hear them, though I take my children to the Children’s Theater Company in Mpls and my wife and I attend The Guthrie and Theater in the Round, but...Splash...I’m not listening.
Splash: At 39 I decide to leave my role as a partner in the family business and enter teaching English, hoping that I might find a position where I can also do some high school theater.
Splash: And I do and I did and over the course of twelve years I direct over thirty mainstage productions and a whole bunch of one acts and establish a new community theater and find some time to perform a few roles and I get disenchanted with traditional public education and realize that this is what I truly love. This is the ocean in which I want to swim for my whole day. Not just for the moments when I can squeeze it in after school or in the evenings after already having a full day of work but when it is the complete focus of my whole being. My work. I realize that...
Splash: I should spend the next decades doing only the one thing that truly brings me joy. That I want to do it in a way that is not compromised and diminished by doing it on the side. I want to do it in a way where there is the energy and the commitment to exploring text and character and image and life.
Splash: I am applying for MFA Directing programs.
Splash: I am 10. I read Inherit the Wind and try and produce it in my garage.
Splash: I am 15. We produce movies with my parent’s Super 8 camera.
Splash: I am 18 and I take my first theater class at the University of Minnesota. I take more, but eventually drop out of college.
Splash: I am 18 and I usher at Theater in the Round, a local high quality community theater. I become increasingly involved there until within a few years I am Chair of the Technical Advisory Board and working as a stage manager with great directors. Which might explain why I’m not having much luck in college.
Splash: I am 22 and we start our own theater company and produce our first show and it’s a mixed bag of success and failure but exciting and engaging and then the financial reality looms and emotional baggage crashes down on us and Splash. That’s over.
And I am 25 and I get married and suddenly there isn’t as much room. And I wander off into a career and there is no Splash.
And for a number of years the waves splash but I am not standing on the shore. Some years I don’t even hear them, though I take my children to the Children’s Theater Company in Mpls and my wife and I attend The Guthrie and Theater in the Round, but...Splash...I’m not listening.
Splash: At 39 I decide to leave my role as a partner in the family business and enter teaching English, hoping that I might find a position where I can also do some high school theater.
Splash: And I do and I did and over the course of twelve years I direct over thirty mainstage productions and a whole bunch of one acts and establish a new community theater and find some time to perform a few roles and I get disenchanted with traditional public education and realize that this is what I truly love. This is the ocean in which I want to swim for my whole day. Not just for the moments when I can squeeze it in after school or in the evenings after already having a full day of work but when it is the complete focus of my whole being. My work. I realize that...
Splash: I should spend the next decades doing only the one thing that truly brings me joy. That I want to do it in a way that is not compromised and diminished by doing it on the side. I want to do it in a way where there is the energy and the commitment to exploring text and character and image and life.
Splash: I am applying for MFA Directing programs.
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
A Sabbatical Conversation
Sometimes its just a matter of being done. There are so many places where good work needs to be done, and the need for good work to be done is an energizing reality. At the same time, if the good work always needs to be done when does it become personally counterproductive to expend energy in the doing?
Yesterday's sabbatical conversation was with someone who shared that they were at a workshop recently and in the face of so many great ideas and strategies for change she thought, "yes, but..." and it's that "but" that is the killer. It is the thing that allows the fear of hopelessness to become the controlling feature of attitude toward belief.
I have always liked this quote from Dune, "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration." It goes on from there with some interesting insights into overcoming fear, but this idea that fear is death is powerful to me. Not that I am fearful of failure so much as fearful of wasted energy. Or maybe of purposelessness.
Or maybe I like this quote because it is the fear of change that prevents the essential shift in education that is required in order for us to serve kids.
Wherever the fear is coming from, when you hit a point where you are learning new and amazingly cool things and all you can think is, "I will never be able to implement any of this in my context." Then it's time to find a new context.
Yesterday's sabbatical conversation was with someone who shared that they were at a workshop recently and in the face of so many great ideas and strategies for change she thought, "yes, but..." and it's that "but" that is the killer. It is the thing that allows the fear of hopelessness to become the controlling feature of attitude toward belief.
I have always liked this quote from Dune, "I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration." It goes on from there with some interesting insights into overcoming fear, but this idea that fear is death is powerful to me. Not that I am fearful of failure so much as fearful of wasted energy. Or maybe of purposelessness.
Or maybe I like this quote because it is the fear of change that prevents the essential shift in education that is required in order for us to serve kids.
Wherever the fear is coming from, when you hit a point where you are learning new and amazingly cool things and all you can think is, "I will never be able to implement any of this in my context." Then it's time to find a new context.
The Sabbatical...Build Not Do
I can't do the math right now to figure out how far into this process I have come. Well, that's not true, clearly I could do the math and a piece of my brain right now is wondering if I can do it while I type. Day One was June 10th (or 9th?). And that was Day One of the Preparation Phase, which is going on this whole academic year. Theoretically I'll launch into The Sabbatical itself on June 10th, 2013.
Practical Update: The concept continues to be that I am going to remove myself from all that has been and move into something new and singular. There are two possible paths, the Graduate School Sabbatical...MFA Directing...or the Kerouac Sabbatical. Right now I am beginning the process of preparing grad school applications in anticipation of arranging for that path to come to fruition, but I'm pretty okay with just ending up on the road.
And for the moment the thing that is most engaging me is the reality of being a short-timer in everything I do. I am a short-timer in my work with Roseville Area Schools, in my work with Eat Street Players, in my work with MN Thespians, in my home, with acquaintances...kind of everywhere. As I mentioned previously, in many cases this has brought me into a remarkable series of conversations. I would like to get more effective at posting those conversations, so hopefully I will do that. In the meantime, I am reflecting on the importance of sustained presence in the work that a person does day to day.
A lot of what we do is oriented toward the long term benefit. Short term we get paid or folks appreciate what we do (sometimes) but often times the effort exerted is spent in the creation of foundations on which better work can be built. I think of this with the theater that I have been doing with Eat Street Players. Up until now my efforts on any given production have had several purposes that motivate me to do more work. On the one hand there is the obvious desire for the particular production to be of quality and to be successful; but also there is the essential belief that a theater company takes years to build, and that each successive production helps to create audience and infrastructure that provide the potential for the following production to be that much better. I have seen this happen at Eat Street Players. Our most recent production of The Music Man was a better show in many ways than anything we had produced previously. And moving forward you would think that there is the potential to sustain and build on that foundation...but the reality of leaving in June turns that potential on its head. I will not be doing a big musical for this theater group next summer, and so suddenly the hard work of propping up the various productions that are currently proposed for November, January, April and June seems more daunting and less manageable than it did as recently as this past August.
This is not particularly insightful or startling. Obvious even, really. But it is instructive to discover how essential the future is to motivating effort in the immediate presence. I would have probably reported that the shows I have done with Eat Street Players I did because I wanted to put up those shows, but it appears that the desire to create something larger, something lasting, is a more significant motivator than I would have credited.
I like how this resonates with an idea that Sam Tanner works with a lot with his students. He tells his students that the daily drone of activities and compliance are the bullshit of education, (yes, he uses that word...for which he has gotten into trouble in the past) and that his class will be focused on building something worthwhile. This idea of building is at the core of what makes life worthwhile. It isn't enough to just be doing something, the sustained life needs to be building something.
Practical Update: The concept continues to be that I am going to remove myself from all that has been and move into something new and singular. There are two possible paths, the Graduate School Sabbatical...MFA Directing...or the Kerouac Sabbatical. Right now I am beginning the process of preparing grad school applications in anticipation of arranging for that path to come to fruition, but I'm pretty okay with just ending up on the road.
And for the moment the thing that is most engaging me is the reality of being a short-timer in everything I do. I am a short-timer in my work with Roseville Area Schools, in my work with Eat Street Players, in my work with MN Thespians, in my home, with acquaintances...kind of everywhere. As I mentioned previously, in many cases this has brought me into a remarkable series of conversations. I would like to get more effective at posting those conversations, so hopefully I will do that. In the meantime, I am reflecting on the importance of sustained presence in the work that a person does day to day.
A lot of what we do is oriented toward the long term benefit. Short term we get paid or folks appreciate what we do (sometimes) but often times the effort exerted is spent in the creation of foundations on which better work can be built. I think of this with the theater that I have been doing with Eat Street Players. Up until now my efforts on any given production have had several purposes that motivate me to do more work. On the one hand there is the obvious desire for the particular production to be of quality and to be successful; but also there is the essential belief that a theater company takes years to build, and that each successive production helps to create audience and infrastructure that provide the potential for the following production to be that much better. I have seen this happen at Eat Street Players. Our most recent production of The Music Man was a better show in many ways than anything we had produced previously. And moving forward you would think that there is the potential to sustain and build on that foundation...but the reality of leaving in June turns that potential on its head. I will not be doing a big musical for this theater group next summer, and so suddenly the hard work of propping up the various productions that are currently proposed for November, January, April and June seems more daunting and less manageable than it did as recently as this past August.
This is not particularly insightful or startling. Obvious even, really. But it is instructive to discover how essential the future is to motivating effort in the immediate presence. I would have probably reported that the shows I have done with Eat Street Players I did because I wanted to put up those shows, but it appears that the desire to create something larger, something lasting, is a more significant motivator than I would have credited.
I like how this resonates with an idea that Sam Tanner works with a lot with his students. He tells his students that the daily drone of activities and compliance are the bullshit of education, (yes, he uses that word...for which he has gotten into trouble in the past) and that his class will be focused on building something worthwhile. This idea of building is at the core of what makes life worthwhile. It isn't enough to just be doing something, the sustained life needs to be building something.
Monday, August 13, 2012
The Sabbatical - Thoughts on Anticipation
Anticipating an event is often the best part of the event...or maybe. I recall a range of vacations planned for the family in which much energy was spent designing outings and creating efficient assaults on a range of destinations. Perhaps the greatest example was in our several trips to Disney World. I loved going to Disney World, as much for the rather fantastic ways in which they lifted me out of the normal contexts of life in which everything that should be done must be done by oneself and resettled us in a place where we were surrounded by folks, who were universally referred to as cast members, whose sole goal in life seemed to be to ensure that our every need was met in a joyous and immediate flurry of service. Yet, while the whole system was designed to provide a grand experience, it was also true that we were surrounded by tens of thousands of fellow travelers all attempting to experience the same joys at the same time in the same place...thus creating a bizarre combination of the competitive along with the leisurely. Into this milieu I would throw myself, armed with The Unofficial Guide to Disney World and other similar resources, to create the best, highly structured, comprehensive Disney experience. The joy of the trip, then, was found in the creation of this PLAN along with its successful execution, garnering the praise and respect of ones fellow travelers.
Of course, when traveling with others there is the inevitable moment when one's pristine plans come face to face with the messy reality of competing needs and desires. This was most notable when it came from a seven year old upon whom the excitement of being served and having a grand plan was somewhat lost...particularly in comparison with the immediate and fully sufficient joy of having a pool at one's disposal without leaving the hotel. On one particular trip this led to a complete abandonment of the plan as well as any pretense of visiting the Disney parks in favor of just hanging out at the hotel. The key to success at that moment was a willingness to let go of the siren song of the PLAN and embrace the joy of something else entirely -- which is also very doable.
Alain De Botton dedicates the first chapter of his book, The Art of Travel, to a consideration of the anticipation of travel and the inevitable gaps between anticipation and reality. It leads me to consider that I am currently in the process of spending an entire year anticipating this journey that I am calling The Sabbatical. Anticipation is inescapable and there is no need to escape it in the first place. However, it seems to me that I would do well to recognize that the anticipation phase is wholly separate from the actual journey that will begin in June, 2013. That anticipation is its own journey and has its own rewards...best self-contained and self-fulfilling. As the actual journey draws closer, it might be best to eschew anticipation in exchange for an openness to experience that remains as existential and free of presumption as is possible.
I have already, at this early stage, found myself having to resist the encouragement of friends and family who would imagine my journey having a PURPOSE. A purpose which must essentially then create a need for anticipation. Which isn't to say that there is no value in reflecting on purpose and having plan and an expectation. One fantasy of the journey that has already caught hold is the idea of entering a small town, discovering a help wanted sign in a small diner or hardware store, filling the job for four or five weeks in an exploration of that community and its folks, and then moving on. These kinds of fantasies and expectations will grow and collect and litter the field of my plan; but they must needs remain vague and non-essential.
Of course, when traveling with others there is the inevitable moment when one's pristine plans come face to face with the messy reality of competing needs and desires. This was most notable when it came from a seven year old upon whom the excitement of being served and having a grand plan was somewhat lost...particularly in comparison with the immediate and fully sufficient joy of having a pool at one's disposal without leaving the hotel. On one particular trip this led to a complete abandonment of the plan as well as any pretense of visiting the Disney parks in favor of just hanging out at the hotel. The key to success at that moment was a willingness to let go of the siren song of the PLAN and embrace the joy of something else entirely -- which is also very doable.
Alain De Botton dedicates the first chapter of his book, The Art of Travel, to a consideration of the anticipation of travel and the inevitable gaps between anticipation and reality. It leads me to consider that I am currently in the process of spending an entire year anticipating this journey that I am calling The Sabbatical. Anticipation is inescapable and there is no need to escape it in the first place. However, it seems to me that I would do well to recognize that the anticipation phase is wholly separate from the actual journey that will begin in June, 2013. That anticipation is its own journey and has its own rewards...best self-contained and self-fulfilling. As the actual journey draws closer, it might be best to eschew anticipation in exchange for an openness to experience that remains as existential and free of presumption as is possible.
I have already, at this early stage, found myself having to resist the encouragement of friends and family who would imagine my journey having a PURPOSE. A purpose which must essentially then create a need for anticipation. Which isn't to say that there is no value in reflecting on purpose and having plan and an expectation. One fantasy of the journey that has already caught hold is the idea of entering a small town, discovering a help wanted sign in a small diner or hardware store, filling the job for four or five weeks in an exploration of that community and its folks, and then moving on. These kinds of fantasies and expectations will grow and collect and litter the field of my plan; but they must needs remain vague and non-essential.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The Sabbatical - Day 63
I'm reading David Brooks' book, The Social Animal. There's a lot there worth talking about, but one of the topics he explores concerns the journey to a healthier lifestyle. He makes the point that when looking at the path to a particular lifestyle choice (ie, healthier eating or being more active) that we have historically broken the process into three phases. He observes that phase three is resisting or engaging a desire, phase two is deciding that one desires the object or action, and phase one is perceiving the object or action. In the nineteenth century society focused on phase three...better living is achieved through willpower. In the twentieth century society focused on phase two...better living is achieved through knowledge and reasoning. Neither approach is effective.
Brooks' posits that behavior is driven by perception. We are mostly bound by the circumstances and patterns that surround and precede the current moment. There is much more in his book, and I'm sure I'll come back to some of his other musings, and even for this one point for a more robust exploration you should read his book. But for the moment this idea has me thinking about my own over thirty year journey through poor diet and exercise. There is a scene or monologue that runs through my head pretty constantly exorting me to different choices for food and exercise. It doesn't seem to matter much what I want to do -- reason and willpower have had little effect and now, at fifty, I find myself overweight and battling hyper-tension, cholesterol and glucose. Everything is out of balance.
So, what I am thinking about, is how do I change the context within which I make choices or exhibit will power? How do I change the script that runs and the perceptions that I have. I don't have the answer to this question. It's a question. But it seems likely that one OUTCOME of the Sabbatical is to land somewhere that is more active and where food choices are directed or constrained in some constructive way. Avoid the desk. Keep moving. Don't eat alone.
I started voice lessons on Monday. I think I'm going to do a diet program, too. I need to record my audition pieces in about sixty days and when I get to that moment I need to be about fourty pounds lighter.
Brooks' posits that behavior is driven by perception. We are mostly bound by the circumstances and patterns that surround and precede the current moment. There is much more in his book, and I'm sure I'll come back to some of his other musings, and even for this one point for a more robust exploration you should read his book. But for the moment this idea has me thinking about my own over thirty year journey through poor diet and exercise. There is a scene or monologue that runs through my head pretty constantly exorting me to different choices for food and exercise. It doesn't seem to matter much what I want to do -- reason and willpower have had little effect and now, at fifty, I find myself overweight and battling hyper-tension, cholesterol and glucose. Everything is out of balance.
So, what I am thinking about, is how do I change the context within which I make choices or exhibit will power? How do I change the script that runs and the perceptions that I have. I don't have the answer to this question. It's a question. But it seems likely that one OUTCOME of the Sabbatical is to land somewhere that is more active and where food choices are directed or constrained in some constructive way. Avoid the desk. Keep moving. Don't eat alone.
I started voice lessons on Monday. I think I'm going to do a diet program, too. I need to record my audition pieces in about sixty days and when I get to that moment I need to be about fourty pounds lighter.
Monday, July 30, 2012
The Sabbatical: Day 51
The preparation process rolls on. This project has a lot of energy to it. In a very interesting way the response that I get from people when I tell them that I plan to quit my job, sell my house, and travel and go back to school is universally positive. More than positive, people seem to get energy from it.
I went to Porland, OR, in July to attend the Assessment Training Institute that is presented by the Pearson Assessment Institute. It was a great experience...loved Portland and it is clearly someplace that needs to be on the list of destinations for the travel period. At the airport, when I was leaving, I was waiting in line at the TSA security. I arrived at the airport with time to kill, and had a little lunch in an amusing restaurant that had a kind of Jimmy Buffet caribbean motif. The staff were amazingly happy to see me (good training) and after I sat down I realized that I had left my reading glasses in the car. Now, I can manage pretty well without them, but I was reading a great narrative of the Lewis and Clark expedition that I had grabbed at Powell's Books in Portland -- an amazing bookstore that should be on anyone's must see should they find themselves in Portland -- and I really wanted to read it, which was completely beyond my capacities without the gentle aid of my $9 reading glasses. So...I left my bag at the table (horrors! -- I expected some TSA agent to come flying out of the kitchen and interrogate the waiter as the owner of the bag -- what devious terroristic device might lurk in the thin recesses of my MacBook Air) and ventured off to find an airport gift store that might sell reading glasses. I found said store and lo and behold what to my wondering eyes did appear but a glasses rack with twenty or thirty different pairs of reading glasses from which to choose. Glittery, turquoise, stylish...decidedly feminine offerings every single one. I am particularly challenged when it comes to anything of style or color, so I invested a bit of time puzzling over the choices until I finally approached the counter and inquired, "do you have anything a bit less feminine reading glasses?" Alas, all that they had was on display. The friendly clerk confirmed that they were, in fact, not designed for men or even particularly gender neutral. I have enough problems with folks confusing my sexual orientation (theater director, a bit on the eccentric side, socialist...lots of stereotypes get played into) and while I don't anticipate a sudden flock of attractive middle-aged women to appear if I get some testosterone laden glasses...though it might not hurt...I didn't see any need to make things worse. In any event, I was assured that the gift shop on the concourse had a different selection that might prove more useful.
In any event, after finishing lunch and heading to the concourse I found myself in the security line. It was quite long...longer then normal I would assume since it exceeded it's roped boundaries and a somewhat passive gentlemen was trying to create two lines at the back end to reduce the queue's expansion into the busy airport spaces. There was some gentle rearranging and folks were chatting back and forth a bit about the unexpected length of the queue, and after a little bit I had struck up a conversation with the very attractive and unfortunately married women in front of me. She was in her business attire and after a bit I discovered that she had been in Portland for a sales meeting and was returning home, which was San Francisco. We were making small talk about San Francisco, in which she lived in the city proper, when a snappy dresser in the first class express line quipped to her, "How do you feel about health care?" It was a puzzling comment and she laughed but didn't really respond as the quipper moved away.
Side Note -- How is it that a program supported by taxes creates a class tiered system for service at the airport? I completely understand that the airlines have a motive in providing services and perks to their high paying customers, but everyone pays for TSA...it's a government program. Bad policy.
Anyway, turns out that my queue-mate had been harassing her wealth dinner companions the previous evening about the need for universal health care...not a common attitude among the sellers of expensive goods on the highways and byways, so the comment had been a gentle jab. This turned the conversation a bit political and talk of wealth and privilege led to my observation that I was planning on divesting myself of most of my worldly goods and going off in search of new insight. Her response, which has been typical, was to offer a variation on these phrases...
"That sounds like a great thing to do."
"I don't see how I could do that."
This idea of starting over has a seemingly primal appeal to folks, and it will undoubtedly be one of the themes of my writing as to why that might be. Are our efforts to fulfill ourselves with work and community so generally unrewarding that we immediately see a new start, a reboot, as a thing to be desired? That seems like the wrong answer, but there is a basic dissatisfaction at play even among those who are seemingly highly satisfied. What is it that we seek?
On another note, my queue-mate (I need to get better about asking people for names) mentioned to me that there is a book about living with 100 Things. I have since discovered that there is a 100 Things Challenge which I'm looking into more closely, but one of the pre-sabbatical activities should be to make my list of 100 Things.
Okay...more later. Perhaps I'll start to write more frequently. Somehow by the time we get to the first day of the actual Journey segment of the sabbatical I need to be doing a consistent blog.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
The Sabbatical - The Project Period Audit
Part of the purpose of The Sabbatical is to take a break from this thirty-four year juggernaut that I am going to call The Project Period. I have never been particularly successful at engaging in sustained attention to a traditional career path, but have instead lurched somewhat compulsively from one engaging project to another. Often juggling multiple projects at the same time. This post, which I will probably have to edit over time as my memory allows, is dedicated to a listing of the activities of The Project Period.
Many of these projects are in addition to the employment that I had at the time.
S&T Enterprises - 1979 to 1981 (or so????) Entrepreneurial activities with Scot Torkelson that included Firewood Sales and Insulation Services. Brief. Intense.
UMN Hospitals Materials Services Renovation Project - 1980-81 -- Student job that turned into a bizarre little student fiefdom in the UMN Hospitals and Clinics. Also with Scot Torkelson.
Theater in the Round Technical Advisory Board -- 1981-8? -- A period when I was working with Teresa Blanchard to help this wonderful community theater continue its work to provide quality technical theater support for its productions.
Non-Aligned Players - 1985? - A short lived theater company, also with Teresa Blanchard.
Kapers for Kids and Funsteps to Learning -- 1988-2000 -- Shepherded a small, family business through two existential crises. Worked with Bev Greene, Jeanne Balzum, John Marzitelli, Sheri Sheeks, and a host of other folks who were touched by this project (which still lives on). Although this overlapped with some of the work I did at Theater in the Round, this was a period when I was pretty focused on this one project. Of course, I was experiencing a new marriage and the birth and parenting of two great kids throughout this period.
Plymouth Jr. High Program - late 90's and early 2000's?? about eight years -- Worked with Bonnie Janda.
Plymouth Playshop Theater Camp -- Provided technical and acting coaching for this growing theater camp with Jo Holcomb and Janice Hardy.
RAHS Drama - 2001-2012 - This was a huge project in which I really learned what it means to provide an educational experience within a theatrical environment.
Eat Street Players - 2006-2012 - Artistic Director with Jo Holcomb. Lots of energy here.
MN Thespians - 2009-2012 - Established the MN Thespians State Chapter Conference -- Established a great relationship with some cool folks from The Guthrie and from MN high school theater programs.
The Infinite Academy - 2010-2012 - Efforts with Sam Tanner to find a home for a new way of doing education. This project never landed but was critical in helping me to develop my thinking about theater and education.
Roseville Area Schools Staff Development -- 2007-2012 -- Tried to figure out how to have an impact on education within the system. Tough nut to crack, there.
Families Moving Forward at Plymouth Congregational Church - 2011-12 -- Small but intense projects to provide short term housing for homeless families.
All of these activities happened on top of or along with the day to day process of having a family and earning an income.
This is a rough sketch that I'll add to as I think about what I've been up to. It's good to know where you've come from as you consider where you might want to go.
Many of these projects are in addition to the employment that I had at the time.
S&T Enterprises - 1979 to 1981 (or so????) Entrepreneurial activities with Scot Torkelson that included Firewood Sales and Insulation Services. Brief. Intense.
UMN Hospitals Materials Services Renovation Project - 1980-81 -- Student job that turned into a bizarre little student fiefdom in the UMN Hospitals and Clinics. Also with Scot Torkelson.
Theater in the Round Technical Advisory Board -- 1981-8? -- A period when I was working with Teresa Blanchard to help this wonderful community theater continue its work to provide quality technical theater support for its productions.
Non-Aligned Players - 1985? - A short lived theater company, also with Teresa Blanchard.
Kapers for Kids and Funsteps to Learning -- 1988-2000 -- Shepherded a small, family business through two existential crises. Worked with Bev Greene, Jeanne Balzum, John Marzitelli, Sheri Sheeks, and a host of other folks who were touched by this project (which still lives on). Although this overlapped with some of the work I did at Theater in the Round, this was a period when I was pretty focused on this one project. Of course, I was experiencing a new marriage and the birth and parenting of two great kids throughout this period.
Plymouth Jr. High Program - late 90's and early 2000's?? about eight years -- Worked with Bonnie Janda.
Plymouth Playshop Theater Camp -- Provided technical and acting coaching for this growing theater camp with Jo Holcomb and Janice Hardy.
RAHS Drama - 2001-2012 - This was a huge project in which I really learned what it means to provide an educational experience within a theatrical environment.
Eat Street Players - 2006-2012 - Artistic Director with Jo Holcomb. Lots of energy here.
MN Thespians - 2009-2012 - Established the MN Thespians State Chapter Conference -- Established a great relationship with some cool folks from The Guthrie and from MN high school theater programs.
The Infinite Academy - 2010-2012 - Efforts with Sam Tanner to find a home for a new way of doing education. This project never landed but was critical in helping me to develop my thinking about theater and education.
Roseville Area Schools Staff Development -- 2007-2012 -- Tried to figure out how to have an impact on education within the system. Tough nut to crack, there.
Families Moving Forward at Plymouth Congregational Church - 2011-12 -- Small but intense projects to provide short term housing for homeless families.
All of these activities happened on top of or along with the day to day process of having a family and earning an income.
This is a rough sketch that I'll add to as I think about what I've been up to. It's good to know where you've come from as you consider where you might want to go.
The Sabbatical - Day One
50. That's how old I am as of this moment. Actually, to use the nomenclature of the young, whom I think I aspire to espouse, I am 50 and a half, plus a little. I have been working steadily, often in multiple settings and at various projects, particularly if you include work where compensation is...shall we say limited, since I was sixteen. Which is thirty-four and a half years, plus a little. Except during that very unpleasant recession in 1981, but that's another conversation.
And I begin to think that I have let myself be defined by what I do in ways that surprise me. Perhaps that is inevitable. Who are we except for what we do? Whatever we do...we do relationships...we do work...we do recreation...lots of different things we do and we define ourselves.
Michael does theater...and education. And that is how I have allowed myself to be defined. And to at least some extent I like that. Theater and education are great things and I am happy to be defined that way. But I have become so busy DOING them that I'm not so sure who I am within them. Or maybe why I am doing them?
On another front, I have been working for the Roseville Schools for eleven years now, which is the measurement which has in the past indicated time for change.
Anyway, these are some of the things that lead me to see that a time for a change is upon me and I have been working toward a change for a couple of years but now Katie is going to graduate and Sheri and I have divorced and I think to myself, "What the fuck? Why am I working so hard?" And I need to be healthier and exercise and have more reflective time and, "Holy, shit! It just goes on and on..."
Time to reboot.
And it's a unique opportunity to do a real reboot. To completely clear the system and put some energy into carefully selecting the things that get back in.
So, as of this moment, my plan is to do my reboot in June, 2013. Sell the house, sell everything that won't fit into my Prius (maybe store a few things) and go forth and experience life without being responsible for organizing and working it.
So this is day one of The Sabbatical. For the next twelve months I am going to engage the Preparations For The Sabbatical. Preparing the mind, body and soul for the moment when the reboot occurs.
Things to do as a part of The Preparation: Make a bucket list. Get healthier so that a lack of health insurance during The Sabbatical isn't a huge risk. Find places to land. Renew the passport. Sell your stuff. Quit your job. Handover responsibilities at Roseville Schools, RAHS Drama, Eat Street Players and MN Thespians. Save some money. Learn how to eat and live on almost nothing. Get into the habit of journaling (here).
Okay. This is day one. Reboot minus 364 days.
And I begin to think that I have let myself be defined by what I do in ways that surprise me. Perhaps that is inevitable. Who are we except for what we do? Whatever we do...we do relationships...we do work...we do recreation...lots of different things we do and we define ourselves.
Michael does theater...and education. And that is how I have allowed myself to be defined. And to at least some extent I like that. Theater and education are great things and I am happy to be defined that way. But I have become so busy DOING them that I'm not so sure who I am within them. Or maybe why I am doing them?
On another front, I have been working for the Roseville Schools for eleven years now, which is the measurement which has in the past indicated time for change.
Anyway, these are some of the things that lead me to see that a time for a change is upon me and I have been working toward a change for a couple of years but now Katie is going to graduate and Sheri and I have divorced and I think to myself, "What the fuck? Why am I working so hard?" And I need to be healthier and exercise and have more reflective time and, "Holy, shit! It just goes on and on..."
Time to reboot.
And it's a unique opportunity to do a real reboot. To completely clear the system and put some energy into carefully selecting the things that get back in.
So, as of this moment, my plan is to do my reboot in June, 2013. Sell the house, sell everything that won't fit into my Prius (maybe store a few things) and go forth and experience life without being responsible for organizing and working it.
So this is day one of The Sabbatical. For the next twelve months I am going to engage the Preparations For The Sabbatical. Preparing the mind, body and soul for the moment when the reboot occurs.
Things to do as a part of The Preparation: Make a bucket list. Get healthier so that a lack of health insurance during The Sabbatical isn't a huge risk. Find places to land. Renew the passport. Sell your stuff. Quit your job. Handover responsibilities at Roseville Schools, RAHS Drama, Eat Street Players and MN Thespians. Save some money. Learn how to eat and live on almost nothing. Get into the habit of journaling (here).
Okay. This is day one. Reboot minus 364 days.
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