"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?"

Taken in Plain, WI, at dusk, summer 2009 -

I love this photo, and this place. I hope I will return some day.

I'm not really sure what this will be about.

On July 12, I said goodbye to Iowa City, packing what little I brought with me back into the Prizm, saying a tearful goodbye to my host family (I still miss you guys) and the city itself. Iowa City gave me more than I knew it had; it wasn't until I came home that its hand print showed itself ingrained upon my heart and soul. But more on that later - I am home now, with my family, and have only a handful of days to go until I am once again uprooted and return to Parkside for what I'm anticipating to be a fulfilling, exciting, and challenging year.

Home feels good. This is the longest stretch of time I've spent at home since the summer after my sophomore year of college. That's not too far off, of course, but it's long enough to make this return a special one; more specifically, it's been a wonderful one. I admit I had my apprehensions about returning - left to my own devices at home, I am anxious. I can't stay in, I cannot focus, I just do. not. function. here. At least, not before. This summer, though, home has been "home" in the truest sense. I am not constantly leaving the house in search of ways to occupy my mind and time, warding off unnamed fears and unnecessary mental traffic that so often accompanies my time spent here. Instead, I am content to watch the hours crawl by in the shade of the porch, drinking coffee and reading anything I can get my hands on. I am so happy to be spending time with my parents. They are the greatest in the world, and there's a lot I could not do without them. I feel focused on preparing my future, but immediately content to be in the present. The past is the past, of course, and pops up now and again as the past does tend to do, but it just doesn't bother me like it used to. Everything is here now, and all of it is moving forward.

I am moving forward.

Okay, that's what this entry is about.

I can't really say when the last time is that I've suddenly been thrown into an uncontrollable fit of happiness for no concrete reason. Actually, I can't really say that this is something I've ever been known to do at all. But in the last four weeks of being home, I have been overcome so powerfully by things as simple as a beautiful sky, or a song on the radio, that the positive energy of that moment has carried me through entire days and given me comfort I cannot describe. For the first time in a quite a while, especially in the last year, I feel extremely connected to my emotions and, more importantly, am not afraid of them. My feelings are worth something. I am worth something (and when is the last time I was able to say that??). And with this knowledge fresh in my mind, I have felt free from so much unnecessary baggage that has followed me for the past few years. I am, at last, able to say that I value myself for being me, and am proud of myself for my accomplishments and, though it's a stretch, am ready to give up my overly-critical attacks against myself.

Well, okay; baby steps here. We'll see what happens when I get back into school and am actually feeling the stress of my school work/projects - but I'm feeling pretty optimistic about the whole darn thing.

But let's get back to discussing the sky. Seriously. Have you seen it? I mean, have you really ever taken a moment, on your walk down the sidewalk downtown (in any town) to just look up and get lost in layers of cloud and strands of sunlight shining through to earth, and just think "Holy crap this is beautiful. This, right here, is a moment that I've got all to myself"? I was driving through the East Towne Mall parking lot on my way to work and actually stopped to watch the clouds drift by for 15 minutes last week, and I'd say it was one of the best 15-minute segments of that week. And each night when I get home from work, I relish the time it takes me to walk from my car up onto the porch, because I get to see the stars and listen to all the little critters that scurry through our gardens and the cornfield, and it makes me feel so incredibly lucky to be where I am and know, at least in the short-term, where I'm going.

And the sky will always be there when everything else around me gets too close for comfort.

I am bursting at the seams with positive energy and so much love. Thank you, Iowa City, thank you to you and your city dwellers, to the out-of-towners like myself; to my parents, my sister, and my cat; to my wonderful friends, old and new and everyone inbetween: this summer has been the cure for all maladies of the heart and mind. I am ready for anything. Thank you.

[My entry title is a line from "Our Town."

It is the truth of all things. Therefore, read it]

Time to Breathe

[taken at approx. 2:47am, June 26, mid-rainstorm]

We hit the ground running during tech, and from there on out the weeks have been a blur of eat, sleep, build, repair, rehearse, and perform. There were other bits and pieces in between, but they've been mashed into a confusion of verbs.

What has happened: We opened Love's Labour's Lost successfully, which - after opening night - presented me with an opportunity to begin understudying one of the main characters in lieu of an actor leaving town at some point during our run. Tech week for Romeo and Juliet was filled with morning shop calls, afternoon rehearsals, and evening dress runs of the show - not to mention learning my newly assigned understudy role in Love's Labour's - until opening night when we were rained out and forced to begin our opening night party a few hours ahead of schedule. The thunder and rain may have waterlogged the stage, but proved unable to dampen our spirits as we set forth to drink and be merry into the late hours of the night.

It's hard to recall an accurate timeline of events between our opening night party and this very moment. Needless to say, things went by quickly. I survived understudy line-throughs of both shows, an understudy run-through of Romeo and Juliet, and a performance as Dumaine in Love's Labour's Lost this past Friday. My parents were able to attend, my host family came to cheer me on, and the cast/crew were unendingly supportive. I had a three day notice and rehearsal process before the performance (with only one afternoon to actually rehearse with the cast); it was quite the experience, to say the least.

I have spent more time getting to know members of the company, teared up at Toy Story 3 (according Entertainment Weekly, that's totally acceptable), received a great massage, continued my exploration of yoga, napped in the sun, played in the rain, seen an old friend, spent time with my family, watched some good movies, and purchased several new plays. All in all, the weeks have been full. Trying to recall everything now, though, makes me wish I could add "updated my blog" to the list of things I've done recently...

What I'm feeling: Short answer - happy. Longer answer? ah - it's strange to think that in two weeks I'll be packing up my belongings and heading back to Madison to finish out the summer before I begin my last year of undergraduate classes. Each day reveals new reasons to be thankful for the opportunity to spend my summer with this group of artists; there is so much comradeship and constant giving. Recently I've been reminded of the chapters in The Gift (Lewis Hyde) that discuss the differences between a community and society. I've written about these topics before, so I won't take time to discuss them now. What I will say, though, is that as of late I've become very aware of the importance of a community bond between collaborative artists. It's also nice to be able to say that there is certainly a strong community among our company here at Riverside. We find support in each other in all instances; whether someone is offering to share a meal, give someone a lift, lend a hand, or use their own talents to benefit others, there's a lot of gift exchange between us, and each day it leaves me with richer experiences and ideas to reflect upon. Two of the other acting interns here have recently finished reading The Gift after having it recommended by me, and their enthusiasm for its ideas have made me very eager to reread the book - I look forward to seeing how my perceptions of the book's application to my life may have deepened in the year since my first read.

I do not ever want to work a regular 9-5 job again.

Not for any long period of time.

Not as a way of "making a living."

This summer has definitely solidified my desire to work (and, consequently, live) in the theatre. Earlier in the summer, I wrote about searching for the ability to take chances and make mistakes without fear of failure. Performing in Love's Labour's was the biggest leap in the dark I've ever taken as an actor; I should have been terrified. Or, at least, I would have thought that I would be, given my track record with stage fright when given weeks of rehearsal time for a role. But something about this experience was so freeing and, dare I say it: a complete and total blast. Yes, I stressed about the lines and blocking, and I spent three sleepless nights tossing and turning over the impending performance; but when the costume was on and I waited backstage with the three guys who would be my partners in crime for the proceeding two and a half hours, I felt excited and completely ready for the plunge. For the first time, I understood what it means to "forget" everything you know before stepping on stage for the first performance. I felt present and in tune with the story, I matched the cast's energy and tempo, and I didn't hesitate. Was it perfect? I have no clue - for the first time, I just didn't care or even think about perfection. I thought about having fun and telling a story. It was exactly what I needed: to be pushed off the edge and grow wings on the way down, as Ted Swetz would say.

Today, three days after the big performance, I am caught up on sleep, re-energized for the coming week, and anticipating more relaxing afternoons and playful evenings on the stage. It's been a great day of "me time" with friends, food, and drink, and I hope I'm able to stretch these last two weeks and make the moments last as long as possible.

thunderstorms and other pleasantries

In the last few days I've attempted several times to update this thing, each time abandoning my drafts because I'm at a loss for words (the proper ones, at least). Today, I've decided screw it, especially since one promise I've made myself this past week is to stop being so damned hesitant about creative impulses. During my second class with Ted last week, he asked us to share any realizations we had experienced in the week between our meetings with him. I shared that I've realized my fear of being wrong can sometimes become so overwhelming that I choose to remain inactive; I avoid making active choices on stage for fear of being told I'm wrong, or the impulse was stupid, or incorrect, or whatever. Ted is helping me to throw away this perceived importance of perfection. He also pointed out, very wisely, that my decision to remain inactive causes me to fail twice: not only am I failing by fearing creativity, but the act of remaining inactive in lieu of that fear is another failure, worse than any perceived failure in being told I've made a choice that "doesn't work."

He's a smart man. (Obviously, this lesson is, as most things with Ted seem to be, a lesson not only in acting, but in life. I won't go into that, though.)

We're quickly reaching tech time for Love's Labour's Lost, and intern schedules are about to get a bit hectic. I'm not worried, though. Two weeks from now, both shows will be opening and life will be free and easy until my time in Iowa City comes to an end. I'm settling in more and more here, in many different respects. Walking through the downtown to get from place to place has been a relaxing and well-needed break from driving myself everywhere I go. My walks are a great time for contemplation and much needed musical interludes in my life - I've busted out my old-school headphones and have been making pretty good use of my iPod on a regular basis. The local grocery stores and restaurants are constantly offering up deliciously simplistic sensory experiences which - as Stella Adler has dictated - I am taking in to the fullest extent. I walked through the rain during last night's thunderstorm and watched the lightning over the skyline, feeling very connected to my environment and the "vibe" of this chilled-out hipster city. I'm getting to know my host family a little more each day, have finally figured out which names belong to each of their six cats, and am feeling more at home in a home that is not mine.

Kalen, an actor in the company at RTSF this summer, has been kind enough to start leading half-hour yoga sessions between rehearsal sessions. I've always had an interest in yoga, but have been afraid to actually jump in and give it a shot (yadda yadda, am I just afraid of everything?). I've now attended three of her sessions and, while short, she does a great job of introducing a variety of techniques and really getting her handful of fellow yoga-ers to relax, reconnect, and find grounding in our bodies. It's been really exciting to work on my breathing especially; this past school year, I was constantly told that I had trouble connecting with my breath on stage. During All My Sons, the anxiety I experienced during rehearsals and some performances lead to horrible tension that closed my body off from my breath almost entirely, and I struggled to understand exactly what was causing all of this to happen. Kalen's sessions have really helped me start to comprehend what good breathing actually feels like. I'm very quickly finding myself much more in-tune with my core and my own breath. I look forward to working more with her on this in whatever capacity possible as the summer rolls on.

Along with swearing off hesitant behavior, I'm really trying to stop being a lazy procrastinator. This is, of course, the most painful adjustment to try and make in my routine. Little by little, though, I'm finding ways of avoiding sitting in front of my computer for hours on end, or laying in bed until the very last second possible, and getting much better at taking on the day's activities in a more aggressive manner. It's definitely not helping that I keep adding to my to-do lists in quantities that seem entirely impossible to complete in a day (or handful of days, or even a week), but the impetus is there. Working with professionals outside of the school environment has definitely changed my perspective of what hard work and dedication to one's own artistry truly is. In no way am I saying that the students I work with at Parkside aren't dedicated; I've simply observed that removing elements such as classes, homework, part-time jobs, and social whatevers definitely changes the way colleagues I am currently working with attack their work and the amount of time in the day they are both able and willing to apply to their craft. It's altogether intimidating, inspiring, and admirable - at times I feel like I might not be cut out (ie good enough) for such dedicated, hard work. Can I reach their level of dedication? Would I be allowed such ownership and creative license? The mere though of being told "no" in response to either of these queries is earth shattering.

But then I remember: If I don't give it a try, then I'll never know.

I think I've said previously that I'm finding joy in my work again. This is definitely still true, and this evolving joy constantly gives way to curiosity and questions - questions I feel immediately compelled to seek-out answers to. This little theatre in this little town has SO much to offer me. I really do feel so lucky to be here with this incredible group of artists, and I don't want a day to go by that makes me feel like I've wasted opportunities to grow, to explore, or even - dare I say it - fail and learn from my own daring.

For now, though, it's time to curl up with The Complete Sherlock Holmes and get ready for another long day tomorrow. Scenic building at the Festival Stage, intern rehearsal, yoga, and R&J rehearsal tomorrow, followed by a home-cooked meal for my host family (Chicken Adobo, don't fail me now.)

3 days 'til tech. 7 days 'til Love's Labour's Lost opening. 14 days 'til Romeo and Juliet.

scenes from life

What's a good opening sentence? Too tired to figure one out.

This week - this day - (nay, this... summer?) has been ripe with new experiences, perspectives, and questions that have left me in a complete daze; I am all at once aware of so much more about myself and those around me, but this same discovery has also lead - as such things often do - to a larger awareness of what is still out there that I do not know. It's always interesting to me that when one door opens, there's usually a corridor of locked doors waiting behind it. The journey never ends..

Anyway - today: 8:00am load-in at the festival stage; hauling in scenery, constructing set pieces, installing lights; all under the blazing midwestern sun. 5:00pm; end of load-in, dinner with Scott Irelan, the Riverside Theatre's dramaturg for the festival. 7:00pm; rehearsal on the festival stage - fight choreography and scene work. 11:00pm; home, sandwhich, hungry cats, bed.

It's been a long day.

The load-in today was great. 1) It reminded me of those good old days as a Production Assistant at APT; though I was there only one year ago, it seems decades away. 2) The manual labor was a much needed break from sitting in a stuffy theatre, and 3) I always enjoy the comradeship that thrives on days like these. Actors, interns, and technicians come together to work as a unit for an entire day; yes, the work is hard, but in sharing that load we become closer, appreciate everyone's contributions, and we bring ourselves that much closer to our end product. It's an exciting part of the process, and it's great to shake things up every once and a while.

My short time here - as I think is the result any time I find myself away from the "norm" - has made me, once again, aware of the extraordinary quality of every day moments in my life. My walks to and from the theatre, lunch with friends, or just being able to sit in the park and read and write! - these small scenes that make up my life are where I find my solitude and peace of mind. Every day has brought me new clarity about where I'm headed in the coming year and what needs to happen in order to make those ventures possible. Last week I received my final grades for the spring semester, meaning that school is officially over and I am free to explore what's in front of me without what's left behind looming over my head. This past Saturday, my dad paid me a surprise visit and took me out for breakfast. When he left town, I retreated to the park across from my host home and napped in the shade on a picnic bench. The sounds of the neighborhood were positively invigorating. I sincerely feel renewed energetically, spiritually, and physically. It's great to be myself again, and to take joy in restfulness and leisure, to pursue my "work" with happy dedication without whatever myriad anxieties usually cloud my plane.

There have been many "happy collisions" so far this summer - one such collision has come from the man who introduced me to this phrase: Ted Swetz. He is the director of Love's Labors Lost, one of the original founders of APT, a student of Stella Adler, and, as luck would have it, he's my monologue coach this summer. The acting interns have the great fortune of spending a handful of afternoons with Ted, at which he shares his philosophies and life lessons, his secrets and his methods, and I am soaking up his gospel with all my might. I have been writing like a fiend these last seven days, taking note of every new insight, specific moments, and new questions provoked by chance encounters. Stella Adler, with so much passion, urged her students to listen with their blood - Ted's approach to acting, to teaching, is very clearly derived from such a passionate instruction and I am happy to say that this passion's contagion continues to progress.

Another such collision has been with Scott Irelan. Today we got together so that I could pick his brain and learn more about the role of Dramaturg in a theatrical production. Scott had great insights to share and great tips for me as I prepare for two dramaturgical processes this coming fall. Immediately after our meeting I called my professor, Lisa, to tell her about this great encounter. More research, writing, and teaching on the horizon, and I couldn't be more excited.

It's hard to believe I'm having such a great time in Iowa. It's hard to believe that such a small theatre could be offering me such a hugely exciting theatrical/life experience. This place and these people are truly teaching me, day by day, that theatre and life must merge in order for the experience of the theatre to be passionate and engaging, for it to be real, and for it to warm you. "All creativity must come from joy," Ted told us actor-hopefuls. "Nothing comes from negativity." I am happy here; dare I say it: joyful. In this joy and learning I'm rediscovering confidence in myself, and in that confidence more creativity.

Doors within doors, and always something just beyond.

Sunshine, at last

Week 1 has officially ended; my second Tuesday has begun (as of 30 minutes ago) and already I am preparing for the day ahead (a classical monologue workshop, followed by a few hours in the scene shop and R&J rehearsal are on special today). This past week has floated by; not because of any sort of slack in my workload, but simply because I'm feeling very restful here, and finding my way into myself again (I hope that makes sense. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe I'll clarify).

I'm very happy to be a part of the company at Riverside Theatre. I feel completely engaged in the rehearsal/artistic/collaborative process of this theatre's summer festival, and already I am learning myriad valuable lessons from my new colleagues. On Sunday during the intern production rehearsal, I was thinking about this group of 8 young actors I have the privilege to learn and perform with this summer. - Okay, first, they made me think about the students at Parkside I've been working with. Over the past two years, I have worked side-by-side with the same group of artists in a familiar environment, processing new information and its application to myself as a human and an artist and, furthermore, attempting to open myself as an individual to these people. Two years, and at times I still find it hard to be as openly expressive as I feel capable of being; two years, and although I'm comfortable at Parkside, there are still parts of myself as a performer - as a human - that are difficult to connect to and feel safe enough to expose to those around me. And now I find myself in a new city, faced with this same challenge, but with different peers in an alien setting (and only a few weeks to find and embrace that comfortability that is so necessary to the execution of this craft). I watch the acting company during R&J rehearsals and I am amazed by their abilities to be unabashedly open with their emotions; on stage they play and connect and effect each other almost instantaneously. There is an unspoken agreement amongst them all that, whether they succeed or fail, the aim is to believe in one's own power of humanity and ignite passion between us all.

How brave a thing it is to be human and, beyond that, to reach out to others knowing full well that all might be for naught.

I wrote once about the difference between being vulnerable and becoming receptive. Now, this summer, is the time to put my perceptions of these ideas into play and step out of my comfort zone to be open and receptive, but also to give myself wholly to others around me. The last seven days have been pleasant and enlightening - I have observed new things and taken note, but I have yet to put these acknowledged insights into action and advance myself actively in my pursuit of performance skill and understanding.

I've been journaling a lot in this past week, and it's been good for me. I write about myself, about the play, and other things as well. Every fiber of my being is bent on absorbing every moment I experience here, and I am determined to glean as much knowledge from these fleeting instances as possible.

I look forward to this week; more challenges, and more opportunities to push the boundaries of my experiences and learn a bit more about my abilities. It really is now or never, after all.

and a second summer away from home begins...

There is a long-haired tabby sleeping in my lap. Rain is gently tapping at the windows and the creeks and groans of my home-away-from-home are helping me settle in to these new surroundings. For the first time in many months, I feel very at peace with the "here and now."

This afternoon I arrived in Iowa City to begin my 10 week stay while I intern with The Riverside Theatre as an actor in their production of "Romeo and Juliet." The last few days have been filled with numerous stimuli - the pressure to complete my semester's work a week earlier than scheduled, the joy of coming home to see my family for two short days, the anxiety of moving out of my apartment and ensuring that all will be well during the last few weeks of our lease, and the looming anticipation of today, which has arrived, commenced, and is now coming to a close. Tomorrow is the next step, and I'm glad to say that the fear I've carried with me was washed away with today's spring rain, and I look forward to the new faces, new opportunities, and new self-revelations that this experience is bound to unfold.

Two things so far: this city, and this family. I arrived in Iowa City a few hours ahead of schedule, greeted by wind and rain, and so I retreated to a cafe near the theatre to take a breather and collect my thoughts. For that period of time, a lot of anxieties and insecurities led my train of thought and, for a moment, I felt my inner introvert attempting to take over and send me into panic.

All of that was thrown aside, however, when I got to my host family's home. I am staying with Kevin and Helen Burford, who own a beautiful Victorian home a few blocks from the University Campus, where Kevin works at the Law Library. Helen works for a Historical preservation association and their daughter, Maddy, works in a daycare. The family took me on a walking tour of the downtown on our way to dinner, and I enjoyed their anecdotes about the city, the buildings, and the history of the area. Iowa City is absolutely gorgeous; its a place that vividly reflects the character of its rich history - beautiful victorian homes, neoclassical style buildings, the wonderful campus (all of which Helen had stories about to share!) - but is electrified by the hustle and bustle of today. This family and this city find meaning and wonder in their history, and I appreciate and am overjoyed by that. I look forward to spending time with them (they are constantly working on renovating their beautiful home, and I have offered up my services to them whenever they find them necessary) and learning more about this city and its unique character.

This week will be a hectic one, but I'm looking forward to every second of it; classes with the company actors, hours in the shop, time in the rehearsal hall, and best of all: my days start at noon! This means, I hope, that my mornings will be spent exploring the city and getting to know the Burfords.

If this damn weather ever cheers up, I may even go for a run through City Park.

Long live summer :)

Among other news: Spring is here (what?)

The semester is half over. Woah.

A lot has happened since my last post. I'll try to give a brief synopsis:

My winter vacation was consumed by preparations for the ACTF Festival in Michigan. I had the opportunity to compete as an actor for the Irene Ryan scholarships, bringing sophomore Maddie Wakley (my friend, cohort, partner in crime, emotional rock, etc) as my partner. Although I was sick for the entire week preceding the festival (and through most of our time in Michigan as well), we made it to semifinals, and then we made it to finals. Great experience! Next was dramaturgical work for Cloud 9, directed by Lisa Kornetsky. The project was larger than I anticipated, but certainly a successful first stab at dramaturgy. I provided program notes, an online study guide, and lobby display for the show which, I am pleased to say, were noticed AND READ by several community members. Score again! Now I am in the very beginnings of rehearsals for As You Like It in which I am playing Touchstone (!!!!). It's my first Shakespearience and I'm feeling a bit intimidated, but ultimately enthused about the project.

I was also promoted to head writing tutor in the Parkside Writing Center. This really doesn't mean too much and hasn't changed much of what I do, but it's cool that they asked me to do it. I like working there.

There's a lot of things I could write about (and most likely will in future posts), but what I want to focus on right now is the latter: my position as head writing tutor.

Okay, not so much that particular position, but my job in the Writing Center and the questions it prompts on a daily basis and how it's reshaped the way I perceive the many possibilities for my future. Easy enough, yes? We'll see.

I really, really like teaching. Even more pleasant than this discovery, I've realized I may just have a natural knack for it, too! I used to think I wanted to be a high school teacher, but now that I've spent so much time working in the tutoring center - teaching outside of the classroom setting - I've realized that I don't need that structure in my life in order to achieve this goal. This acknowledgment has been quite freeing and is helping me open a lot of doors for possible career options. I am excited by the possibilities that exist for teachers in a non-classroom setting, and I thrive on the challenges that individual students' capacities to be open to learning present to me as a communicator. Every day I work with students of all kinds - some are looking for a quick edit-and-go, others arrive because they are seeking an understanding of a skill they have not yet mastered, and others come because they are forced. Their willingness to engage in a dialogue about their writing style, the process of writing, or anything remotely related to printed words on paper varies and, at times, my efforts end up being fruitless even after countless sessions with the same student. But there's always one kid - maybe it's only one that day, or only one the entire week - who suddenly 'gets it.' He or she puts two and two together in such a way which catalyzes a sudden burst of enlightenment, and feel - often for the first time - that they can do it. That they can do something.

Being able to provide my peers with that first sense of academic confidence is so exhilarating and rewarding to me. I can't even say for sure why that is, but when a student leaves the Writing Center smiling because they've suddenly done something they couldn't do before, and furthermore, they found their way to action through their own thought process, I feel elated. There's something very gratifying about finding true confidence in one's self - whether of an academic nature or otherwise.

This, at least for the moment, is what I want to do with my life. I want to inspire confidence and help others process their own patterns of thought and perception so that they can express those perceptions in comprehensible ways. We live in a world that is quickly becoming void of thoughtful communication; I want to stop that from happening. I want to give young people the artistic, creative, intellectual, whatever license to think and dream and command that others listen when they speak because their ideas are important to someone, somewhere.

I want a lot of things, apparently.

When I was in high school, I used to spend my summers as a counselor at our community's summer theatre camp. I worked with kids of all ages, all backgrounds, some of whom were handicapped in some way, and others who were just downright shy. Whatever their stories were at the beginning the summer, their experiences at camp gave them the ability to rewrite a part of themselves and emerge as stronger, more confident individuals. Its amazing how quickly a dedication to some form of artistic expression can change the way people see themselves. Communicating creatively builds communities, friendships, and a sense of individuality that is incredibly difficult to disassemble once the foundation is laid.

I spend a lot of time lately reflecting on what theatre has meant to me, both personally and professionally. I've always seen my participation in the theatre as the first spark of individuality that I could identify within myself. Theatre gave me the confidence to explore the world around me and ask questions about the way things are, but until now I never really thought about using theatre in my own professional life in order to give this kind of power to others. Until recently, I've viewed my education as an opportunity to hone my acting skills so that I could enter the "real world" as a professional, working actor. Is that still a goal now? Certainly. Is it the end-all, be-all that it once was? Not in any way. I want to act - I enjoy it very much. But the sense of purpose that education gives me can't be compared to anything else. At least not yet. My Dramaturgical work for Cloud 9, too, was an opportunity to test my skills as a sort of educator, and I enjoyed it a great deal. I loved being a part of rehearsals in a way that, while not involving myself actively on stage, was still collaborative and insightful. It was exciting to help others gain new perspectives about the text of the play, the messages it presented, and the world they would inhabit during their rehearsal period and run of the show. There's a lot to learn out there, and a lot to share.

Dramaturgy, educational outreach, tutoring, whatever. Doors are opening. It's a cool feeling.