A Christmas Dinner Moment: Marilyn, Alan, and Some Espresso

Marilyn, Alan, and Some Espresso
Originally uploaded by ToeKneeBroh

I took this photo at Christmas dinner at my brother' Jasons house. I wouldn't even consider photography a hobby; my expertise ranks just above water color painting but a litle bit below coloring between the lines.

....well...maybe not. Stupid lines.

I tend not to ask people to pose for photos, but would rather try to capture them in a moment. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Many times, I'll photograph a "moment," and even go so far as to shout, "AHA!" I'll proudly show my newly created masterpiece to the subject, who will usually get a small fake smile on their face and say, "Oh!" giggle a bit and hand the camera back to me.

Well at least I had fun taking it.

I tend to be a bit invisible at my brother's house when there's company over. I don't have kids to yell at, or a significant other to make fun of, so I sit quietly near my niece and nephew, cut up their meat and listen. During Christmas dinner, I had my camera at the table and was looking through the digital screen without picking it up while the others discussed Tiger Woods and how people go on about him too much. I liked the look on Alan's face and took the photo. I didn't notice Marilyn's face through the water pitcher until I pulled the image up on my computer--that was a bonus, in my book.

I think I like playing around with my photos on Picasa more than taking the photos. I'm using my favorite tool in this one, the one where you can control where the color is. I guess you're also controlling the photo's story when you fool around with it like I do.

To be honest, I wasn't thinking "story" when I chose to save the image like this. I just thought it looked cool. It's like the cup and saucer get their own special moment. I'm sure there's lots of discourse on black and white versus color images in photography and what psychological reactions they generate, but I wasn't trying to make any other statement than an aesthetically pleasing one--well, to me, at least...

If I ever get Photoshop, watch out!

Climbing the Frickin' Mountain

Climbing the mountain

So it looks like you’re going to have to climb the frickin’ mountain. Deal with it.
-Hugh MacLeod

I was reading an excerpt from Hugh MacLeod’s new book, Ignore Everybody and 39 Other Keys to Creativity, when I came across the above quote. It was contained in a point titled, “Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb.” I started thinking about my Mount Everest. At first, I wondered exactly what comprised my Mount Everest, and then realized that one word defined it:

Cabaret.

It’s been over three years since I attended the Perry Mansfield Art of Cabaret Workshop, a week-long intensive featuring some very prominent cabaret artists as teachers. I made some wonderful friends, got inspired in a beautiful setting and left determined to do my own show and to learn how to play the piano.

I’ve done neither yet.

What gives? Fellow DC Cabaret Network members see me and say, “Toni Rae, when are you going to do your own show?” And I don’t have an answer for them.

I’m probably scared that I’ll fail.

Argh! I feel brave at so many other things—encountering bugs, smelling the milk to see if it’s soured, driving 85 miles an hour on the Capital Beltway—but a performance opportunity is my Everest? Normally I’d give up red wine for a good performance opportunity.

And I do try: I start to think about my set list and then I start to feel insecure, so I end up…well, NOT thinking about my set list.

As we end 2009, I’m going to make once again a resolution to create my very own cabaret in 2010. It’d be great if my seven readers could support me. It will probably take a village to get me on stage.

What's Worth Keeping

I rid myself of a lot of stuff last weekend--clothes, books, a couch, a TV, etc, etc, etc, because I'm moving this Saturday. I don't get too sentimental about stuff and am on a constant mission to simplify my life and its belongings.

My mother was on the complete opposite side of the spectrum--a certifiable pack rat. She kept EVERYTHING. Not to the point where the family considered it a psychological disorder, but growing up, there was a lot of stuff crammed into our relatively tiny house. I remember asking her after we moved to Michigan, "Are we settled in yet?" I wasn't sure, since there were so many boxes everywhere. As I got older, it grated on my psyche, the piles of clothes in the living room, the books and papers stuffed in book cases. I'd try to tidy up and my mother would get mad at me--she knew that everything was right where she put it.

As I was rifling through my things, sorting them into "pack," "donate," and "trash" piles, I came across a plastic bag filled with papers and photos my brother gave me a while back. It came from my father. He had the enormous task of sorting through my mother's possessions after she died, and the plastic bag represented important papers and photos he thought I might want to keep. When Jason gave the bag to me, I took it home and put it in my storage closet, not bothering to look.

This weekend, I finally looked in the bag. I smiled at the elementary school report cards and the letters from the agency through which my parents had adopted me. There was a lock of my hair and footprints in a baby record book--too cute...

Then I found the list.

Written on paper from one of those small, spiral notebooks you might carry around in your purse, the list is written in black ink, front and back and is clearly in my mother's handwriting. It says things like, "diapers," "playpen," "pacifiers." You get the idea. It's a list of everything a new parent might need for the arrival of their baby. And at the bottom of the page was the heading "Things Still Needed," with "Still" underlined and with about ten items on it. There were things misspelled, hastily written in the margins--evidence of a new mother trying to make sure she had everything just right.

The list probably isn't out of the ordinary. I'm sure all expectant mothers make some sort of list to get ready for a baby to enter their world. But imagine you're a thirty-five year old woman who has been waiting about a decade to have a child. You've gone through emotional and psychological hell and questioned whether motherhood was really part of your life's plan. After years of waiting, an adoption agency calls you and tells you that a six-month old baby girl is available--do you want to meet her? And you say yes. And then she's yours. Good gravy: what do you do next?

You write a list. And because this is a very precious time for you, you keep that list.

Sitting in the middle of boxes, papers, and cleaning supplies, tears rolling down my cheeks, I carefully folded up the items in the plastic bag and put them in the "pack" pile.

In Chinese it looks like this: 龙

I promise you that I will not look like this in my next show.

Mushu
Originally uploaded by problemgirl_jen

I'm red and black, not orange and yellow.

I love the messages I'm finding this production sends, for as you probably know, besides trying to meet today's challenge of not being a TV show or a video game, all children's theatre should convey important messages:

*you must create your own path, even if it's risky;
*you can't put people (or dragons) in boxes;
*change is necessary for the evolution of humankind;
*many different ethnicities can represent one culture on stage--sorta like life, no?

...and once again, I am involved in a show with folks who bring PILES of talent to the table--cast, production team, and design team. Gracious! I'm overwhelmed and awed and I've only had three days of rehearsal.

Previews start November 25 and closes January 10. Come see, bring friends and curtain climbers.

Yeah, I'm Making a List, and I'm Not Ashamed to Admit It

WTJ A Place for your Grocery and Wish Lists
Originally uploaded by eklektick

I'm delaying getting ready to go to my company's annual conference. I leave this afternoon and don't return until Wednesday. I like the event; in fact, I usually feel exhausted but relatively happy at conferences, as it give me a chance to connect with folks with whom I spend countless hours e-mailing and teleconferencing all year long. After I get back, things die down a bit, and then I go right into rehearsals for my next show. I predict a new door opens upon my return, giving me the chance to bring even more enjoyment and happiness into my life.

Former "want to do" lists have included learning French and trying to understand quantum physics. I'm feeling a bit more practical these days:

*Purging myself of needless belongs (this is in preparation of my move to my next place--wherever that may be. Anyone need a large oscillating fan, a bosu, or a space heater?). I've decided to donate clothes I don't wear to Dress for Success.

*Keeping track of my budget. Not doing well in this department lately...

*Buying myself a guitar and taking lessons. I think I might have an aptitude for it...

*Creating an exercise routine that does not require me to attend group classes all the time. I'll admit it--I love going to class because I'm extremely social and slightly competitive, so I work hard when I'm there; however, I need to get my butt in gear when I can't make it to the gym. So maybe it's not creating a routine as opposed to self-motivation. Thoughts on this?

*Cook more. Eat out less. I LOVE to cook and don't make time for it. I eat better when I do, and it's clearly more cost effective.

*Find another volunteer opportunity. The need to give back feels stronger than ever.

*Finally, as my friend Heather said to me: take life one day at a time. Living the moment is harder than it sounds in this world of the Crackberry and Google. But it's really something I need to heed. This reminds me of my favorite Ben Franklin quote:

Do not anticipate trouble or worry about what may never happen. Keep in the sunlight.

Onward!

Turning the Switch to "Off"

I can't meditate. I've tried. I've put soothing Enya-sounding music on, sat crosslegged on the floor, shut my eyes, took deep, calming breaths...and still a traffic jam of thoughts remained in my head.

I'm sure there's some guru out there who can set me on the right path, who'll help me find the peace and quiet I crave every once in a while. I used to scoff at the idea of thinking about nothing, and frankly, I still think it near impossible.

Even so, as I close one show, ready myself for an annual conference (where I run around in heels with a walkie talkie in one hand and my Crackberry in the other), get my brain wrapped around a new show, and prepare to move, all I crave is stillness. Or at least the opportunity to sit outside on a warm, sunny day, lean back on the surprisingly comfy rock I found in the clearing of a forest, shut my eyes, and just be grateful of my existence.

Photo credit: Otter Meditation!
Originally uploaded by Snapperz

Crouching Awhile

Me In Bed
Originally uploaded by ToeKneeBroh

As the drone of the dryer plays in the background and my iTunes runs through the tinny speakers of my laptop, I search in vain on the World Wide Web to express my composition today. What am I made of at this instant? Will a Flickr photograph express my thoughts? Will a Billy Collins poem do the trick? "Taller Children" by Elizabeth and the Catapult begins to play--ahhh, yes! "We're all just taller children," sings (presumably) Elizabeth. So true: I am a tall child. I just want what I want and wish to disregard everything else.

As I stare out the window into the beginnings of a sunny day, I realize that what I'm feeling is lonliness and longing and that it ebbs and flows in everyone. "Let go," whispers a voice inside me. But maybe the voice is not coming from inside of me. Maybe it's from whatever connects me to the rest of the world.

Time to fold the laundry and start my day.

Supporting My Artisan Friends

We interrupt this blog that talks about me, me, me to recognize some of the talent that invades my world. (See how I brought it back to me?) Seriously, I am going to make a concerted effort to purchase more from independent artisans.

First there's my friend Tricia, who runs her own business, Leafyhead Potions & Lotions.

Leafyhead's mission states that "Each all-natural, chemical-free Leafyhead lotion, potion, cream, salve, balm, oil, and bath salt is made with love in small batches."

What's not to like about that?

Tricia knows her stuff. She's currently in her last year of graduate school, where she's getting her Master's in Herbal Medicine. She's also been running her own holistic health counseling business for a few years now, Nutricia Consulting. I've been privileged to be one of her students and can vouch for her fabulousness.

So with the holidays right around the corner, who doesn't need some Boobie Balm?

Next, if the definition of "friend" is to have had visual contact with someone,then no, Ryan Detzel is not my friend; however, he's my Facebook friend and his blog This is Reverb, continues to provide me with some touching and thought provoking reads. I think my blog wants to be his blog when it grows up. He's a minister, a fantastic cook, photographer and, from the looks of it, a wonderful husband and father. Check out his beautful family (minus his lovely wife, but he didn't have any pics with the four of them, but that's daughter Ava and one of the world's newest human beings, son Finn):

Ryan recently noted that he's selling some of his pics at his store on Esty Check them out--he has a great ability to capture beautiful moments. I heart his work and hope one day we'll meet.

Finally, a dear, dear friend, Lisa Penning sells her jewelry and just-added t-shirts at her Esty store. Lisa and I go way back to my Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival days. Here's she and I with her husband Chris (on the right) and our friend Billy at the Festival's 10-year reunion:

Wouldn't you or someone you love look amazing with this around their neck?


By the way, if you are not as lucky as I am to have friends as talented as Tricia, Ryan and Lisa, check out Esty, who's mission is to "is to enable people to make a living making things, and to reconnect makers with buyers." and their vision is to build a new economy and present a better choice..." In this day and age, with the economy in the toilet and with the rich only seeming to get richer, why not get out of the mall and the superstores and do business with real people?

Just a thought...

And if you do have talented artisan friends (or are a talented artisan), let me know! I want to spread the artisan message far and wide.

Thinking about things I don't like to think about

I volunteer once a week, recording a section of the newspaper for the visually impaired. I give money to those I encounter, holding out their hand. It's not every time I see someone, but you can't say I don't try, or that I don't care.

But let's face it: I write stories about eff-it lists and wanting arms like Linda Hamilton. I decorate this blog with silly images from LOL cats. I tell the world I'm not giving up half 'n half and that it might be possible for me to find true love on Twitter.

Is that necessary? Is that bringing meaning to your life? In the grand scheme of things, do all of my frivolous musings really matter?

Hell, no.

So watching The Soloist tonight was like a punch in the gut. And watching the following two-minute video was like a second punch delivered after I'm down, crying in the fetal position.

(Facebook readers go here)

I know that I can't cure cancer, or stop war, domestic violence, or misogynistic thoughts about women, or animal cruelty or global warming. But I can notice someone on the street who will be sleeping under a viaduct that night while I make sure my bedroom door is shut so my cats won't walk on my queen-sized bed.

As I have the privilege to write this (and you have the privilege to read it), people are suffering. As I work out at my gym tomorrow, the one that is way cooler than yours, someone is going to worry if they're going to feed their children that night.

I am not hopeless or helpless, but I feel overwhelmed: this is my life that I try to live the best way I can--but wait! THERE'S MORE TO IT THAN THIS!

I have to help others.

I have a huge heart. I can share that.
I understand that I am connected with the world, the bad and the good.
But how do I begin?
With prayer?
With my wallet?
With my time?
With my possessions?

What's the right answer?

Postscript: to learn more about how one can begin to help the homeless, click here

Current & Way Too Random Thoughts

• I am the rule, not the exception. Repeat ad infinitum. Perhaps then it will stick in my brain.


• My "definition of "vacation" is doing whatever the hell I want, when I want, for as long as I want. ALONE. Answering to no one. Anything else is "visiting." Oh, and there's no plan, there's just a morning stretching into an evening and then it starts all over again for at least a week.


• Good gravy, are the Puritains still grasping onto our consciences from the grave to inspire us to create discourse on the fact that Michelle Obama wears shorts? Whose stupid idea was that? I'm not even going to dignify it with a hyperlink...


• Very soon, I will be cutting my hair so that it bears some resemblence to Johnny Depp's. The things I do for my art. Actually, I'm going to pay someone else to do it. Her name is Sommer and I trust her completely.




• For a Christmas present to myself, I'm going to buy a guitar. Or a bike. Or both.


• I will NEVER give up hope. Or coffee with half 'n half.

Remember: Love wins, people. Love wins.

But the jacket was so pretty!

I continue writing about notes in which I'm tagged on Facebook:

My dear friend Kristin Burkhead tagged me in 100 Books:

The BBC believes most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here (which I'm not going to list). How do you stack up?

Kristin read a whopping 78 of the 100, which included Ulysses, War and Peace, The Bible, and Winnie the Pooh. She's a smart cookie, so this doesn't surprise me.

I read 23, which did not include Ulysses or War and Peace. This led me to review my current roster of reading material, which include:

• Short stories
• Cookbooks
• The Washington Post
• Magazines, from Scientific American Mind to Eating Well to Lucky: A Magazine about Shopping
• Self-Helpy type books. I know--so mid-life crisis of me. Even so, I will recommend Pema Chodron's Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living to anyone who feels a conundrum coming on.
• Do blogs count?

I have not been reading:

• Novels
• Plays
• Anything that requires my attention span to last more than ten minutes

I need inspiration! I go to the library on a slightly-regular basis, but wander the aisles looking for a book cover to catch my eye.

That's not a good way to pick out a book.

So I need your help: please, please PLEASE let me know what you've been reading lately that's floated your boat, inspired you to write your own novel, made you want to go out and change the world, be a better person--whatever. I find that there's some things I just can't do alone.

Many thanks...

Don't Read This If You Don't Like Looking At Pics of Cats

I've been running around the last three weekends--working, visiting family, hanging out with friends. As I go into rehearsals for two shows that are almost back-to-back, I won't have a lot of weekends with an empty dance card. So this weekend has been a deliberately lazy one. I've cooked (this for last night's dinner and this for this morning's breakfast), exercised, napped, and, because it was within arms reach, snapped these photos of Phebe giving me some love. She's pretty much the friendliest cat in the whole world, and those who have met her will back me up.

...and just so she doesn't feel left out, I threw in a few pics of my beautiful calico, Brandy. She gives love too, but she's delicate and shy.

Being in lazy mode means that I played around with a few of the shots on Flickr. If I had Photoshop, I'd be dangerous...

Six Plays, Umpteen Minutes

Here's a Facebook note in which gal pal Heather Haney tagged me:

15 plays in 15 minutes

Rules: If you'd like to play, take 15 minutes to jot down 15 plays you've read or seen or participated in in some way that will always stick with you -- list the first 15 you can recall in 15 minutes. Don't take too long to think about it.

I know I'm not playing by the rules, Heather, as I'm not tagging anyone for this and I'm doing it on my blog, and I'm stopping at six, but since I so rarely write about theatre on here, I thought it might be a nice excuse to do so. Here goes!

1. (trying not to think of the same ones as Heather did...argh! I can't help myself!) No Exit, by Jean Paul Sarte. I played the role of Inez in the first season of the Catalyst Theater Company directed by Christopher Janson, with Scott and September Fortier as Vincent and Estelle, and Chris Gallu as The Valet. September spit in my face every night--since it was in the tiny DCAC, she couldn't fake it. And when Scott would shout "Hell is other people!" I would wholeheartedly agree (sue me: it's where I was at the time). Love this production pic (grainy, but you get the idea).

2. The Intelligent Design of Jenny Chow by Rolin Jones. The Studio Theatre put on a fantastic production of this 2006 finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, about an adopted Asian teen who is afraid to leave her house, and creates a robot to fly to China to find her birth mother. I saw this play about three weeks after I found my own birth mother and was sobbing in the theatre as I watched it. Despite the personal reasons I have for adoring this play it's an extremely well written, fast-paced, light-and-dark comedy.

3. Dark Play or Stories for Boys by Carlos Murillo. This was the last production I saw, put on by Forum Theatre, for whom, along with Dizzy Miss Lizzie's Roadside Revue, I will forever be a groupie. Based on an effed-up but true story, Dark Play...uses the murky world of chat rooms to show us the dark side of creating our own realities. Disturbing with a capital "D," but so well done.

....I just realized that my friends Jimmy Flanagan and Charlotte Akin both peformed in my #2 and #3 choices. That must mean I'm one of their groupies as well.

4. Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare. I'm sure if I wrote this a week from now, this play would be number one on my list, as I'm going into rehearsals for it starting Tuesday. Not only do I get to perform with Taffety Punk Theatre Company and play with some amazing actor grrls, but it's the first time I've ever performed in something I've previously directed. Man, I love this play. I think I like it so much because you can't put any of the characters in a box--they all display their light and dark sides. That's all I'm saying--come see it! Opens September 18. More later.

5. My Mother Said I Never Should by Charlotte Keatley. This was my Master's Thesis production. Again, it was a play that had me sobbing when I read it because one of the character's finds out the woman who raised her was not her real mother and then gets to confront her biological mother. Again, a story in which the characters show their light and dark side. What is fun about this play is its non-linear timeline. You don't keep your memories in a linear timeline, do you? That's part of what Charlotte Keatley was trying to say with this play. Four generations of a family--four generations of motherhood in the 20th century--send a powerful message about what women faced throughout the years and how they coped with societal and personal changes.

Oooo...that last sentence sounded real "thesis-y" didn't it? It's an interesting piece, was a challenge to direct, and now that I'm older and somewhat wiser, I'd like to direct it again someday.

6. Nine, book by Arthur Kopit and music and lyrics by Maury Yeston. A bunch of us were just talking about this musical, not to be confused with District 9, a movie that I very much want to see, but has a way different plot line. Nine was produced on Broadway not too long ago, with Antonio Banderas in the lead role. According to Wikipedia, it's based on based on an Italian play by Mario Fratti inspired by Federico Fellini's autobiographical film 8½. It's on my mind because Rob Marshall, who directed the Oscar-winning Chicago, is also directing this one. Check out the trailer which shows you the amazing cast, and you'll see why I'm so geeked about it.

So what are your favorite plays and why? And if you're reading this on Facebook and feel compelled to answer, please come over to my blog and comment there--thanks!

Lucio! a/k/a What I'm doing instead of studying my lines

I seriously heart web-enabled software as a creative outlet. I have used animoto and bighugelabs mosaic maker before in previous posts (this one and this one). And now that I have a small interest in photography (mostly because I'm fascinated by what's created when I point and shoot my little point-and-shoot), I have a Flickr account. Sigh: so many photos put my attempts to shame. But that's okay! I am an enthusiastic learner and fan.

Anyhoo. I love the share idea of Flickr--it's like Google Images but with much better stuff to look at. I recently got cast in Taffety Punk's Measure for Measure as Lucio (geez--I hope it's okay to say that; if not, I'll take this post down lickety split), and wondered what would happen if I "Flickr-ed" the name. Also, since I think Eddie Izzard in his cross-dressing heyday would be a great inspiration for Lucio, I Flickr-ed him too. Then I threw all the links into the mosaic maker and here's what I came up with:

Unintentional tribute to Lucio Fontana, 2. omaggio a Lucio Fontana (my work), 3. Eddie izzard strike a pose., 4. mosaico hidráulico = Lúcio Zagalo, 5. lucio loves wool, 6. The Last Canvas - A digital tribute to Lucio Fontana (1899-1968), 7. Eddie Izzard, fairy, 8. Lucio as a breakfast table for Halloween 2006, NYC, 9. Lucio Battisti - 10 anni, 10. Lucio Urtubia, 11. Lucio Orsoni mosaic, 12. Lúcio Maia, 13. Eddie Izzard one hot mama., 14. Lucio Fontana portaied by Lothar Wolleh, 15. Lucio Cabañas

My favorite is the dude dressed up as a breakfast table. The cat is a close second. Will this inspire me to be the "fantastic" that I need to portray? Who knows? But it's sure a heck of a lot fun fooling around with this stuff. Try it and let me know what you create.

Mom, Dad, and Martha

I read this article in the Washington Post today and feel the need to spread Martha's story far and wide. And here's why:

My mother died when she was in her mid-60s of heart-related issues. I maintain to this day that it was well before her time. I could be all Buddhist, existentialist, what-have-you and know that her time to go was her time to go, but I watched her make choices (or not make choices), deteriorate and eventually leave this world. A part of me believes that she simply gave up and let the diseases in her body take over. That's a horrible, hard thing to say about someone you love, who raised you: I am well aware of this.

You don't have to go very far to read about the challenges we will face as the population ages. As my father approaches 80, it's top of mind for me and my brother. Dad has balance problems (stairs are not his friend), and while my mother seemed passive as her body aged, my father is TICKED! He was the type of guy who had to be busy all the time and was very active in his church and in the small town where we lived. Given that, I was sad to hear that he stopped singing in his community's male chorus, something he participated in as long as I can remember. I know I cannot live his life, but I want to say to him every day, "Do NOT give up! Growing old is a state of mind--fight it!"

Hmmm....I wonder what I'll think thirty-odd years from now, when I'm his age. My parents are like my arms--I don't know what I'd be without them, so it's difficult as an adult to watch them age in a way over which I have no control. I wish my mother was alive, wearing purple, travelling the world, playing tennis...I wish my father was finally getting his pilot's license...

Mom & Dad with Dad's parents, late 50's, early 60's

I'm going off-topic again. Lo siento. We all want the best for the ones we love, no? And I'm such a control freak that it gives me hives when I see that my loved ones lives could be better If. Only.They.Listened.To.Me.

So when I read about someone who upon their first day of retirement decides on her own to make better choices, to be honest about who she is and how she wants to live, I rejoice. Martha Bair Steinbock is an overweight grandmother in her 60s, but she wants to run a mile in some sort of official race. "Somewhere in me is an athlete, albeit buried deeply under layers of fat," she says. She goes on to write,

...a personal trainer is out because I won't follow directions. A track team is out because I would have to be friendly. And the concept of be flailing around in water aerobics with other fat people wearing flotation belts emphazing our large girths reminds me of the scene from Fantasia in which the elephants dance wearing tutus. So I am doing this on my own.

She's a funny, funny lady.

It might take her a while, and she's already written about some setbacks, but I am still going to be her groupie. I hope you will be too. While you're at it, be your parent's groupies. The next time I see my dad, we're going for a stair-less walk and I'm going to sing "They Called the Wind Maria" with him.

http://myfirstmile-miriam.blogspot.com/

You Take It on Faith, You Take It to the Heart

I am a woman that understands not the meaning of patience. I am a product of my MTV-influenced generation--I want everything yesterday.

There are so many possibilities in my life right now. Where I'm going to spend my time, how I'm going to spend my time, et cetera, et cetera. It's actually nothing to complain about.

Except that it isn't happening at this very instant.

"...as she lay there, she felt like a flower, waiting to be plucked..."

I don't remember where I read the above quote. It's from a book, that much I know. I read a lot of books, and most of the times at a fairly fast rate, but clearly I retain something, because that phrase stuck, and at times I REALLY feel like that. Here I am! Pluck me!

...wait: that didn't sound right...

Anyway, here's what I throw out to the universe today: I crave patience. I crave contentment. I crave not craving. And before I make a complete idiot out of myself, I'll just let Flickr do the talking and explain further my mood today.

waiting in cuba 2 by wahoorob 80 (OY, am I running behind!)

Norah & Paul: Seeing My Best Self

This is my niece Norah and nephew Paul:

Paul is 18 months old and Norah is four. She's FOUR. Notice she's got a swim cap on. That's because she's getting ready to swim in a competitive meet in the eight and under division. She's swimming the 25-yard freestyle and the 25-yard backstroke.

Yes. BACKSTROKE.

Am I the only person who doesn't have kids who's amazed by this? I could barely put my face in the water at 4--hell, I'm not even sure about that because I don't remember anything before I was 5. And this kid is doing the BACKSTROKE.

What amazes me more is how she learned it. The meet was on a Wednesday. She got to the pool on Monday and said, "I wanna do the backstroke." And so she did. She swam the length of the pool and so her coaches put her in the meet with kids TWICE HER AGE.

(sorry about the caps, but this whole story astounds me.)

I feel so blessed that I live close enough to my brother to watch these small folk grow up. There's this fearlessness to Norah that I just adore. She says what's on her mind, and if you're not paying attention to her, shouts, "Guys. GUYS!" I love watching her little legs run, which she loves to do as much as she can, laughing the whole way.

I just ran today and believe me, I was not laughing.

Paul shows no fear either. One of the games that we play is that I hold him in my arms and slowly bend over, so that he's hanging upside down. He laughs and laughs and then eventually starts to throws himself back, simply trusting that I will still be holding on.

I get a little sad because I know someday they'll lose that sense of fearlessness and freedom, that things will always go their way because they want it to be so. On the other hand, I get inspired: why shouldn't I be able to "learn the backstroke" because I want to and then just do it? Why can't I trust if I throw myself backwards, there will be someone there to catch me?

Because it's true, you know. It is. Trust me. I can do whatever I want, and if I take a risk, someone will be there no matter what. There's too many stories outside the story of my life that prove this theory.

There really is a lot we can learn by watching kids. We see ourselves in them. We see our best selves. If you're like me, you get all warm and gushy inside just thinking about it.

And if you want to see great form, just look at Norah showing her stuff, coming in third (i.e. NOT LAST) in her heat:

Not the Top Ten Reasons for Anything

Scott Rosenberg wrote an interesting piece in Salon called How Blogs Changed Everything, and this particular passage gave me pause:

...of all the species of writer, bloggers are the least insulated from their audience, most vulnerable to the ebb and flow of attention and response. They are both alone and in a crowd. Their solitude can inspire self-indulgent ranting; their sociability can tempt them into self-serving pandering. But every now and then they manage to hold their balance in this paradoxical position for an extended, exhilarating spell.

I can dig that.

This blog is my cybersoap box, my little piece of cyber Speaker's Corner, if you will.

I write these days to get out what's in my head, whether it's wishing I had arms like Linda Hamilton, or missing a friend, or buying a cherry tomato plant at the Reston Farmer's Market.

Purely selfish reasons.

I sit here in my nightie, on my bed, writing, when I really should be sleeping, and I forget that once I hit the "Publish" button, a bajillion people could see this (even though it's really only three).

Is this self-indulgent ranting or self-serving pandering? Perhaps, but I am trying for the extended exhilerating spell--really, I am. Because what it all comes down to is this: I can talk to my cats (and don't think I don't), talk to myself (and don't think I don't) about what's running through my mind at any given moment. Or I can share my thoughts with folks who, while they don't see me everyday, or look deep into my eyes and say "I love you," seem to care that I have something to say. And I DO have something to say. It might not be the top ten ways to make your life more interesting and meaningful, or five reasons girls like to kiss more than boys, or whatever lists folks are conjuring up elsewhere, but once in awhile, my scribblings might be read by whomever and mean SOMETHING.

Do you have something to say? Well, I'll listen, I'll read--whatever. I'll get off my soapbox and help you up. There's room for you. There's room for everyone.

Photos:
UK - London - Knightsbridge: Hyde Park - Speaker's Corner

Cherry Tomatoes in June I

A Therapeutic Shower to Start the Day

"Life is too short to not be doing what you want."

That was my first thought as I got out of bed this morning, that and I don't need an alarm clock because my cat whines me awake.

I felt slightly horrified upon rising. As I showered, I went deep in thought, because I am wont to do that in the shower--my best ideas germinate there: was that my subconcious, my inner self, my SOUL talking to me, one last shout at me as I left dream land? Am I not doing what I want? Did I sell out for health insurance, holiday pay, and a 401K? AM I A PATHETIC LOSER?

Then I thought about this:

and this:

and this:

oh, and here too:

about the fact that I got to do this all during the month of May:

and about all of these folks:

...and all the other folks who influenced me (you know who you are) and I realized that I AM doing what I want.

As I felt the water splashing on me and listened to the drone of the ventilator that does not quite do its job, I decided not to wash my hair today. It looked just fine.

Los-Las a/k/a My Next Adventure

Raise your hand if you're going to visit Los Angeles and Las Vegas over a span of five days.

...Dang...it's hard to type with one hand....


Even though I lived in California when I was six, and have been back a few times since then, I have never visited the City of Angels. And no, as an actor, I never had a huge desire to move out there for work. That glorious social media tool called Facebook revealed to me that I have no less than ten friends out there; all of them are working in the film/television industry to some degree. So off I go to look at Marilyn Monroe's star on the Walk of Fame, gaze at the Hollywood sign, and lurk around Venice beach, staring at the crazies and the outdoor gym rats, plus do whatever my friends Porter, Patrick, Julianne and Joe want to do. (PHOTO: The 101 Freeway and Los Angeles Downtown, from Mulholland Drive, in Hollywood - California (USA) - May 2007)

My friend Monique is working for The Mouse in Vegas as part of the Lion King at Mandalay Bay. I thought that since Vegas is a short trip from L.A., I could squeeze in a few days with her as well. Of course she's WORKING, but I think we'll get some quality time in. I've spent a week in Vegas before (thanks, Bob), but never got off the Strip, so I'm hoping we'll explore other parts of the city or get lost in the desert. The 2009 40th Annual World Series of Poker also takes place that weekend, and the aforementioned Bob will be there, hopefully rolling in money after winning all the tournaments he's planning to enter. (PHOTO: LasVegas on Night)

Given that I'm visiting two of the most glittery cities in America, I predict an amazing adventure. Mendy Lou requested a write a travel blog like I did for my trip to France, and since I am now the proud owner of a Sony Cybershot, my pics are bound to be ten times better.

I'm like a kid at Christmas, I'm so excited...

Arms for Eyes, Eyes in Hands

WARNING: some of the pics are not for the faint of heart.

My great friend and travel buddy Monique (she of the Puerto Rico trip) tells me that when she and I travel together, she always goes to places she would never think of going. I'm going to visit her in Las Vegas next month--Hoover Dam and Red Rock Canyon here we come!

A few years back, Monique was in Hong Kong, so naturally, I went to visit her. Our adventures took us to the Temple of the Ten Thousand Buddhas in Sha Tin. Visitors climb over 400 steps (and, in our case, in 100 degree weather) to visit four temples, including one that has lots and lots of little Buddha statues in it. All in all, there's over 12,000 statues at the monastary

Here's one of my favorite photos:

...and proof that I actually was there:

(what was I thinking--wearing jeans in that heat?)

One statue just fascinated me; however, Monique couldn't stand to look at it:

I'll be darned if I know the meaning behind the arms growing out of the eye sockets. Anyone have a clue? My amateur photography skills failed to capture the little eyeballs that are in the palms of the hands, sorta like the scary, fairy-eating Pale Man in Pan's Labyrinth

(pause to spend about an hour Googling "eyes in hands," "significance of eyes in hands," "eye symbols," etc.)

I found this statement on a website created by someone who is fascinated by the Eye in the Hand imagery (or "everything you wanted to know about eye in the hand symbols but were afraid to ask"):

The pancultural Eye-in-Hand icon manifests the integral and interactive bond between two essential human functions: sensing/observation (the Eye) and doing/acting (the Hand). Together these two abilities represent the most effective symbolic condensation of the ideals of human existence - omniscience (all-knowing) and omnipotence (all-powerful)...

Cool.

Wonder where the heart fits into all of the symbolism? Maybe I'm too girly to be super attracted to omniscience and omnipotence--"all-knowing and all-powerful" screams Lord Voldemort to me. Besides, the statue IS at a Buddhist monastary--"loving kindness"and all that.

I seriously don't think Google is going to be able to help me with this. If anyone has suggestions as to where I might further research the meaning of my "Arms for Eyes" picture, I will be eternally grateful and do something nice for you, like help you across the street, or cook you dinner, or pump your gas.

Lazy Saturday Morning

At 7:30 I parked my car and grabbed my newspaper and decided against the grocery bag. The parking lot was rather deserted, so I thought I got the dates wrong. As I descended the steps, I saw the raffia giraffes--nope: I was wrong. The Reston Farmer's Market was getting ready to open.

Paper and now grocery bag in hand, I ventured forth, past the art vendors getting their stalls ready--jewelry, hand painted plates, a man with a banner proclaiming he had the best tasting wines in Virginia. Noting that it wasn't too crowded (perhaps the grey skies kept people away?), I took some time to breakfast at the Lake Anne Coffeehouse, one of the only places around that serves coffee from a French press. As I sat outside, I read, sipped, ate, and people watched--yes, all at the same time. The atmosphere was quiet, but busy.

I made sure not to start shopping until 8:00 am on the dot--it's rude to start picking at the wares before the vendors are ready. Last year I made the mistake of showing up around 11:00 am (the market closes at noon), and every vendor was pretty much cleaned out. I made a beeline first to Grace's Pastries, who make the best apple turnovers. Hmm...maybe I'll buy some of her breakfasty-looking breads too. I asked the nice gentleman behind the table what was his favorite. "There's two," he said, pointing first to the Cranberry Orange bread and then the Sweet Potato Bread. "I'll try the Cranberry Orange this week and the Sweet Potato next week," I tell him, adding the dense loaf to two apple turnovers. Breakfast this week will be quite tasty.

I darted between all the other vendors, buying yogurt, spinach, asparagus, some great looking strawberries. I almost bought tomatoes, but was hesistant--were they REALLY local? It's not the height of tomato season yet--I'll wait. I buy Greek lamb patties and ask the best way to cook them. "Well, DON'T add cheddar cheese to them," the vendor tells me with a smile. "I tried that and my kids were not happy with me." I ask about their curry, but they didn't bring it this week.

I saved the herb/plant guy for last. I want to grow cherry tomatoes on my tiny patio this year. I've always called myself "botanically challenged," so I'm rather awkward and stammery whenever I have to ask questions. Besides, this guy was kinda cute--gruff, but with startlingly blue eyes. I'm still unsure whether or not he likes to be at the market, but he clearly knows his stuff. He helps me select one cherry tomato plant "I recommend the Husky Cherry," after telling him I had to grow my tomatoes in a container. I buy only the tomato plant when he tells me he doesn't have hot pepper plants. "Okay," I say brightly, after handing him $1.50 "Here's hoping I don't kill it!" He doesn't answer, turning his attention to someone clearly ready to buy more than I did.

Sometimes you connect, sometimes you don't....

It's only 8:30 when I get back home. I really don't need to drive, but am never sure what I'll end up buying--last year one of the raffia giraffes ended up in the back seat of my Tucson. I take my tiny tomato plant and put it in a large pot, check my basil plant I started to grow from seeds, marvel that I didn't kill the chives I bought last summer, and re-pot my Wandering Jew (at least that's what I think it is). I let my cats outside. They sniff around, skulk toward the edge of the patio, chew a little grass. Brandy, my calico, finds the couch more comfortable, but Phebe, the brave one, stays out as long as she can, until she keeps wandering off and I tire of chasing after her.

I pour myself a water/grape juice concoction, sit down and prepare to write...

Another Openin’, Another Show, or how Deb Randall really is a GoDdeSS

I admit reluctance to writing about the show in which I’m currently acting, Homokay’s Medea, written by Julianne Homokay and produced and directed by Deb Randall at Venus Theatre. I never wanted this blog to be seen as a place where I market myself; in other words, I want to observe and react rather than wave my hands excitedly and shout “Hey, look at me! See what I can do!”

So with that in mind, here are my observations and reactions to the process of getting this show off the ground, from soup to nuts. Most of it isn’t about me, but rather my good friend Deb:

Deb at the Venus Theatre Playshack in Laurel, MD

Work on something you LOVE: The story of Medea has been in Deb’s life since 1982. She even dressed up as Medea in high school—yes, she was one of those brave and crazy ones and that has served her well since then.

It never hurts to ask: Deb approached Julianne about writing an adaptation of Medea for her; Julianne wasn’t entirely sold on the idea, but she slept on it and later agreed to do it. After workshopping the piece at the Kennedy Center Page to Stage Festival last September, Julianne next flew out from Los Angeles this past March and worked with Deb and the "stage" cast for two days. We thought we had a great play when we sat down and read it the first time, but then Deb kept "asking" and inspired Julianne to write something even more amazing.

Deb & Julianne

Know your strengths and your passions: Deb initially wanted to play Medea herself; however, she realized that for this particular show, she wanted to participate in the creation of the entire story and that directing the piece would be much more satisfying to her. From my perspective, I'm glad she did :)

Wait for your dream cast: one of Deb’s biggest challenges is getting professional actors to audition for her—Laurel is not an easy commute (it’s over an hour during rush hour for me). Deb had some dropouts and some re-casts, but she finally got who she wanted. I can vouch for them—they’re all pretty awesome.

There’s a fine line between collaboration and leadership: Deb by nature is nurturer and shares her creative space very well, but there was no question who’s driving the bus. A theatre production is a synthesis—lots of parts coming together, but you still need one person to make sure that all the parts stay true to the vision. Even after we stared at her blankly when she excitedly told us about her film projector/clips on the cutting room floor metaphor, she made it work—the projector is one of the coolest non-actor moments in the show.

JUST DO IT. The money will come. It will (Sark): Who in their right mind would open a feminist theatre in a former Chinese restaurant in Laurel, MD, a town folks speed past on I-95 on their way either to Baltimore or DC? Crazy, huh? But who of you out there has your own theatre, can produce whatever work you want to, collaborate with who you want to and still have time to swim 30 laps a day? Yeah, I didn’t think so. I’m INSANELY jealous...

This is my third time working with Venus Theatre and I still shake my head in wonder about how Deb manages to pull it off. This time, she did it with flying colors. Here’s hoping the power of the theatrical review can work its magic.

Sure, I want you to come and see me in the show. I get to play Medea—geez, when am I ever gonna get an offer like that again? I get to say some pretty funny, scathing, remarkable things (thanks, Julianne!), and Deb taught me how to play the guitar. So aside from the fact that I have some wickedly fast costume and makeup changes, I’m having a blast. But don’t just see it because I’m in it. See it because this play and this theatre deserve an audience. Venus Theatre’s mission is to “set flight to the voices of women.” Come to Homokay’s Medea and watch how wonderfully Deb set flight to her own.

Homokay’s Medea runs through May 31 on Thursday, Friday and Saturdays at 8:00 pm and Sunday’s at 3:00 pm. Reserve your tickets online. Readers of this blog can enter “Artist” as a promo code to get $15 tickets.

May is for May Be

I didn't realize how important this first day of May is to the world until I Wikipedia-ed it.

....and then Flikr-ed it...over 397,000 results for "May Day (without quotes)." Here are a few of my favorites in the photostream...well, at least the few I viewed:

One needs a Maypole when blogging about May...

Image on Flickr can be found here.

I just like the idea of lots of folks sitting on blankets on a sunny first of May.

Image on Flikr and photo description can be found here.

...and my favorite one in rememberance of International Workers Day:

Just a powerful arresting image, IMHO. The mask is Guy Fawkes, or if you're into movies, the dude from V for Vendetta, and a very apt image for this occasion.

Image on Flikr and photo description can be found here.

No matter what causes you to celebrate May--be it the beginning of summer, or the rememberance of those who toiled before us, or because you need another reason to drink Margaritas, this special month represents to me one of my favorite words: "possibility." Bring it, you fifth month of the Georgian calendar! I'm ready and waiting.

Why You Should Hire an Actor

My current schedule:

5:30 am: get up, groom myself, feed my cats, eat breakfast
7:30 am: get to work
11:45 am: go to the gym
1:45 pm: back to work, eating lunch at my desk
5:00 pm: leave for the 70-90 minute drive to Laurel, MD because the Capitol Beltway SUCKS!
7:00 pm: rehearsal
10:00 pm: drive home
11:00 pm: zzzzzz (cat laying on stomach)

I’m not revealing my schedule to you for a pity party—I’m sure many parents out there have worse schedules. I’m CHOOSING this schedule of work, gym, work, rehearse, sleep. I’ve arranged and planned my time so the things that I am able to do the things that are important in my life.

Dang: if I had a significant other, I wouldn’t see him. So I guess I could say I have a boyfriend and tell everyone that I have no time to see him and folks would believe me, sorta like Phoebe Cates in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, an actress who, by the way, folks used to say looked like me.

...digressing...lo siento....

While some might think that my schedule seems exhausting and hectic, I’m not any different than any other artist with a day job. I have to be on top of my game so that I can do the best I can for each “part” I have to play in my life. And I attribute that mindset that to actor training.

My good friend Nicole Franklin pointed this out to me a while back, probably while we were drinking good wine and eating great food when we lived in a group house in Kensington, MD. She said that actors have a “the show must go on” mentality and that bleeds into every day life. As I reflected on how I carried myself at all of my day jobs I've had in my life, I realized she was right. At work, I am in “performance mode:” I perform a task to the best of my ability, remain flexible and attentive if something crazy happens, and stay calm under pressure. As I have moved up the ladder of responsibility, that mindet helped me further develop excellent time management skills, the ability to create a team-building atmosphere, and stronger strategic vision.

Didn’t think someone could get that from memorizing lines, huh?

By the way, if you’re not an actor and you meet an actor, don’t ask the actor, “How do you memorize all those lines?” It’s a bit tiresome. Ask them instead, “What does it take for you to create a character?” or, if they do mostly stage work, “How does it feel to perform in front of a live audience every night?” And if you meet Michael Sheen (he of Frost/Nixon, Underworld fame), please ask, “Do you have Toni Rae Brotons’ telephone number? You really should call her.” And then give it to him.

...and we’re back!...

Actors work hard. It’s not about memorizing lines and being a ham and craving fame...or should I say, it’s not JUST about yadayadayada. Unfortunately, that stereotype sometimes looms over actors as they try to find a “day job.” The arts are not well funded in this country. Most actors I know must supplement their income to survive, and that’s true of all artists and performers.

How would your team be enhanced if a member possessed a "show must go on" mentality, a large memory muscle, and a naturally outgoing spirit? You'd be darn lucky is my guess.

My dream job is to own and operate a company that places actors in jobs that are either temporary or provides enough flexibility for them to audition, rehearse during the day and perform. My company would provide training to those that need it, and also provide space for performers and theatre companies to rehearse. You can understand why I cried when I heard of Awesome, Inc, located in Lexington, Kentucky, as they already created a great version of my dream. (You can view Jason Falls' awesome video tour of their space here). Community, community, community...I can’t stress that enough.

In the meantime, when you’re looking through resumes or need to hire a temp—look at someone who is an actor. You won’t be sorry.

My Not Very Deep Beliefs

I am currently reading This I Believe, a book of short essays based on an NPR radio series, where men and women, famous or not, expound on their personal philosophies. Naturally, reading this book that includes a few people I greatly admire inspires me to wonder exactly what I would write about should I be called upon to write an essay called “This I Believe.”

I believe that it would not be easy.

Maybe I’m just too busy with rehearsals, planning two conferences, working out, and trying to wrap my brain around how social media is changing our culture to think any deeper than this:

• I believe that all life is precious, therefore I do my best not to kill bugs. Mosquitos with their needle noses in my arm are an exception. Sidenote: my favorite place in the Cincinnati Zoo is the Bug House.
  
  
• I believe that running to catch the Metro is silly. Unless it’s 11:59 pm on a weeknight, there’s another one coming. It sure is fun to watch others do it, though.
  
  
• I believe that you can’t bestow the title of “planet” for over 70 years on a mass of rock and ice and then take it away. I don’t care what anyone says, Pluto IS a planet!

Original pic can be found here.

Spring is finally here and I don’t’ feel like going any deeper than bugs, the Metro and Pluto. If you want to find out more about what I believe, wine, good conversation, lots of pillows and jazz all need to be involved.

...even so, don’t let that stop you from letting me know the things in which you believe. Share, share share!

In Which I Ponder Leadership

Jamie Notter, association blogger extraordinaire, started a leadership meme, and asked folks to blog about "the top 3 things people need to do, learn, focus on, etc. in order to become more effective leaders." As I write this, four savvy association minds responded to Jamie's call. To overview (and I encourage you to read each blog post--they're all fantastic):

Jamie Notter
1. Know Yourself
2. Understand Systems
3. Learn Communication

Jeff De Cagna
1. Take Responsibility
2. Be Courageous
3. Embrace Learning

Deirdre Reid
1. Have a spine
2. Have a heart
3. Have open ears and eyes

Maddie Grant
1. Combine big picture thinking with practical knowledge
2. Give ownership of the system to each player
3. Be real

Dang. How can I add to that? How can I not just re-word what has already been said?

{{pause...deep breath...and engage.}}

THREE POINTS ON LEADERSHIP: TONI RAE'S VERSION

1. Don't be afraid to lead. More succinctly: just do it. Many folks are placed into positions of leadership and feel the need to be everyone's "buddy." This is particularly true if the person in the leadership position was a peer to the folks s/he now leads. Realize that people WANT leadership. We crave it. We appreciate it so much when we encounter it. So read and heed all of the above points from my fellow bloggers and know that you won't please everyone all the time and yes, unfortunately, at times you WILL be judged.

2. Set an awesome example. My favorite leaders are folks that I want to be when I grow up. Walk the walk, talk the talk. Give back. Volunteer. Lead a healthy lifestyle. Please don't ask me to go drinking with you on Bourbon Street after a conference. Please refrain from gossip. (No, none of that happened to me! Well, okay, yes it did...)

3. Smile, laugh, share joy. Why? Because it all rolls downhill. This probably piggybacks on Deirdre's "Have a Heart" and Maddie's "Be Real." I tell you what: when leaders are happy, everyone is happy. When the boss is having a bad day, week, life--the entire staff feels it--and there's productivity, taking a nosedive. I'm not saying get all gushy when you feel good and hide in your office when you feel bad--I'll admit there's a fine line to walk in this regard. But realize the power of your position and the effect you have on those around you.

So, Jamie--not sure if I contributed anything of superior value; my only excuse is that I am a meme virgin and a woman who is only now trying to understand the "power of my position." Cheers!

For April: The Bridge Poem

Did you know that April is:

*National Amateur Radio Month?
*National Emotional Overeating Awareness Month?
*International Twit Award Month?
*oh, and National Poetry Month?

You can find a whole list of April celebrations here, which is where I got my list.

Which one do you think I'm celebrating?

(For the smarty pants who did a Stay Puft Marshmallow Man and said "Twit Award," paybacks are hell--I'm just sayin'; however, if you get my reference, that cancels it out.)

I first heard The Bridge Poem in Sally Harrison-Pepper's Women in Theatre seminar at Miami University. Since then, I've used "Stretch or drown/Evolve or die" many times when asked to express myself in quote form. As an adopted, left-handed, half-Filipino feminist, with a fierce streak of diplomacy, this poem spoke loudly to me. Reading it again for this post, it still does. Enjoy!

The Bridge Poem
by Donna Kate Rushin

I’ve had enough
I’m sick of seeing and touching
Both sides of things
Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody
Nobody
Can talk to anybody
Without me
Right?

I explain my mother to my father
my father to my little sister
My little sister to my brother
my brother to the white feminists
The white feminists to the Black church folks
the Black church folks to the ex-hippies
the ex-hippies to the Black separatists
the Black separatists to the artists
the artists to my friends’ parents…

Then
I’ve got to explain myself
To everybody

I do more translating
Than the Gawdamn U.N.

Forget it
I’m sick of it.

I’m sick of filling in your gaps

Sick of being your insurance against
the isolation of your self-imposed limitations

Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners

Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches

Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people

Find another connection to the rest of the world
Find something else to make you legitimate
Find some other way to be political and hip

I will not be the bridge to your womanhood
Your manhood
Your humanness

I’m sick of reminding you not to
Close off too tight for too long

I’m sick of mediating with your worst self
On behalf of your better selves

I am sick
Of having to remind you
To breathe
Before you suffocate
Your own fool self

Forget it
Stretch or drown
Evolve or die

The bridge I must be
Is the bridge to my own power
I must translate
My own fears
Mediate
My own weaknesses

I must be the bridge to nowhere
But my true self
And then
I will be useful

From This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color by Cherrie Moraga & Gloria Anzaldua, New York: Kitchen Table Press, 1983 (The book is currently out of print).

Do you have a favorite poem? Share, please!!

In Anticipation of Spring

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. (T.S. Elliot)

It has been dreary with a captial "D" for the past few weeks. Granted, the Cherry Blossom Festival is in full swing; however, the sun has poked out only a few times, but not for very long and not with warm weather accompanying it. I send out this beautiful picture to call Spring forth to the DC Metro area.

spring in the city (III) by criSis

There's lots of other things for me to anticipate: I start rehearsals for a show this weekend (more on that later), and I'm bound and determined to grow things and not kill them this year. I am very much looking forward to the Reston Farmer's Market opening. It's like a party every Saturday there.

What are you anticipating this Spring?