Return of the Water-Baby!!

What a.....day.

2012-11-27T16:55:00.001-08:00

It's all about perspective. Yesterday, Alex and I were en route to a meeting with my Patsy Cline collaborator to discuss getting the show produced, anywhere, anytime. I love this show and want desperately to have many chances to perform it again, so this meeting was an important and exciting step in getting the ball rolling. And then I got a flat tire. No way could we make it to the meeting. I was pretty upset. This was my first flat tire experience, and it happened at a terrifically inconvenient time. So, there we were, pulled into a parking lot off of highway 99, me grumbling about the unfairness of it all as Alex talked through our story to AAA. While he was using my phone to call them, his phone rang and he handed it to me. I answered, "Alex's phone" without looking to see who was calling, then went on to tell the caller that Alex was in the middle of talking to AAA because we were stranded in a parking lot with a flat and woe woe woe is me was the basic message from my end. I heard a faint reply, "I'm sorry about that, just have him give me a call at his convenience." And that was when I recognized the voice. "Is this Max?" Yes, it was, and I apologized to him for not knowing who I was speaking to, then asked how he was doing. "Oh, I've been better." And I stopped. Because I knew what Max had been dealing with for some days now, a sick parent many miles away. "How is your dad, Max?" I asked. "Well, he passed away a few hours ago." Oh. Oh. OH! "I'm so sorry, Max," I said, and we spoke for a bit, as he told me that his father lived a full life, was married 54 years, that his death wasn't unexpected. You know, the talk of a man in mourning but trying his best to be brave. But there was no denying the pain in his voice. He just lost his father. And all I had was a flat tire. We got a flat tire on one of those rare sunny November days in Seattle. There happened to be a security guard in the parking lot that we pulled into, and his last job was at a tire store. He happened to be an expert tire changer. He helped us figure out not only that we had a donut (I had no clue) but also where to find the mini-jack that would allow us to access the donut (who knew there were so many nifty tools in my PT Cruiser?). He then changed our tire for us, in a matter of 10 minutes. He said he always feels bad for people who blow a tire on the road, so he keeps tire-changing tools in his car, along with flashers and traffic cones, and he truly enjoys being able to help people who are in a scary situation, like being stranded on the side of a highway. He said he would be happy to help us, he didn't need any money. His name is Adam, and he is awesome. In short, we got a flat tire in the most ideal location ever, with a happy-to-help, tire-changing guru at our disposal, on a sunny day in Seattle. I spent most of yesterday feeling incredibly fortunate. Yeah, I had a flat (which has since turned into a need for a new alternator) and missed an important meeting. But the flat got fixed, the meeting got rescheduled, and my family is alive and well. There are so many moments in Life that can knock us down, but when we put it into perspective, we're still pretty freaking lucky. Don't you think?

Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson

2012-09-21T09:50:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday night, we opened the Northwest premier of the off-Broadway hit (and the Broadway non-hit) BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON at ArtsWest Playhouse. I have loved working on this wacky show! It's fun, it's funny, it's irreverent and relevant, it's kinda something special, in my book. It's a large group of people, and somehow, everyone is pretty damned awesome, both onstage and off. I felt like the new kid coming in, since it seemed like everyone knew each other and I knew no one, but I was welcomed into the fold and now I've got new theatre friends that I look forward to seeing every night.

The script is a mix of fact and fiction, telling the story of the 7th President of the USofA in a manner that weaves the politics of the early- to mid-19th century into our current political and cultural landscape. It shows how hope can turn to despair, how change can be painful, how the voice of the people should sometimes be ignored. Andrew Jackson is an incredibly important figure in American history, but his legacy is a difficult one. There are those who see him as one of our greatest presidents, and there are those who see him as an American Hitler. What BLOODY BLOODY ANDREW JACKSON attempts to do is show him as a human being, flawed in many ways, but attempting to do what he truly believes is best for the country. There are many parallels between Jackson's politics and current politics (one example: he won the plurality of the popular vote for the presidency in 1824 but was denied the office as a result of the Corrupt Bargain) and at times AJ speaks like a leader of the Tea Party and at others he speaks of HOPE and CHANGE a la Obama. 2012 is so 1828!

I play Rachel, Jackson's older (yet totally hot!) wife, who shares with him a love of bloodsports (yes, you read that correctly). Rachel is swept up by his energy and charisma and leaves her other husband to marry Jackson (though she didn't leave him soon enough, resulting in the ugly distinction of being a bigamist). But alas, while AJ is all the man Rachel will ever need, she will never be enough to satisfy this larger-than-life figure, which leads her to sing one hell of a rocking song, "The Great Compromise", before dying of grief (yes, you read that correctly).

This play is a true ensemble show. Kody Bringman plays Andrew Jackson, and he is freaking fantastic! The rest of us play numerous characters throughout (talk about a show full of quick-changes--you should see me transform from poor dead Rachel to a super-busty cheerleader!) and wow, there are some incredible characters on that stage. The cast is strong, the band kicks ass, and this whole crazy thing is helmed by Christopher Zinovitch, Artistic Director at ArtsWest. He cast this thing flawlessly, and the designers he pulled together have created a truly stunning world. I am honored to be a part of this production, I wish you all could see it, and I hope that Seattle audiences take a break from the current campaign season to get a little perspective on how crazy this whole Democracy thing is.

Teachable Moments

2012-09-14T08:42:00.000-07:00

Over the summer, I taught a class called Step 2: Acting with Text, a 10-week, basic scene study course. This past Sunday was our last class, and the students were able to invite people to come see their final scene presentations. We began class with a warm-up, as we always do, and the room was filled with nervous energy. It was clear that the students were thinking of the next hour, when the audience would arrive, and the feeling in the room was one of pressure and anxiety. I wanted to help them remember that, while it's natural to feel nervous before a performance, it is vital that one not allow that nervousness to remove all the pleasure from performing. And I just happened to have a personal story to share with them in regards to the Patsy Cline concert I had sung the night before, and I'd like to share that story with you now: ************ I have performed many roles on many stages over the course of my life, but "Foolin' Around with Patsy Cline" was the first time I'd ever sung a full concert by myself. And while I was terrifically excited about it, as September 8th approached, I found myself getting more and more nervous, to the point of pure terror. I was afraid of forgetting the lyrics to the 41 songs I'd be singing; I was afraid that the between-song banter I'd written was lifeless and stupid; I was afraid of feeling amateurish in front of the band and the audience; I was afraid that I'd either hang on to the mic stand all night or bounce all over the stage trying to "entertain"; I was afraid that no one would show up; I was afraid I'd look ugly (finding the right dresses was a challenge); I was afraid that I'd discover, in front of a room full of strangers, that I really don't have any talent as a singer. I had spent months working on the music, but in a vacuum: I didn't get any rehearsal until running through the show with the band on the night before the performance. And for me, this was the scariest part, relying on my performer's instincts, not having a director's eye and ear to guide me. The week leading up to the show, I was in a state of panic, singing Patsy songs all day and rehearsing Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson at night, and my voice was fried, along with my nerves. Friday morning, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably, unable to be soothed by Alex's reassurances that I would be great, unable to believe my friends, who had seen me perform many times over the years and had no doubt that I would know exactly what to do once I was on that stage. I was having a minor nervous breakdown, and I needed a Valium and a nap to be able to get myself to that band rehearsal. And then, finally, I met the band. And they were all so nice to me! And we started working through the set list, and I knew all the lyrics! And since my voice was fried, I didn't sing out, I just sang through the material and got a feel for what the band was adding to the melodies I'd been singing solo, and it was really cool! I tried on a couple of dresses, and I looked good in them! By the end of rehearsal, my excitement far outweighed my nervousness, and I felt like everything would be okay. ********** The day of the show, I spent 6 hours in rehearsal for Bloody Bloody, then drove down to the theatre to do another short rehearsal with the full band. My voice was tired, which was scary, but there was no turning back now. Finally, 8 o'clock rolled around, and the band played their overture, and I stood in the wings dancing to the music. And then came the announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Miss Meg McLynn! The band began playing the first song, and I walked out onstage, and...I completely forgot what I was supposed to sing. Totally. Blank. I waved at the audience, then I looked at the pianist, David Duvall (who threw this whole thing together with his production company, Purple Phoenix Productions, as well as doing the arrangements for vocals and all 6 instruments), and he gave me a look that said, "You're supposed to be singing!!" And the look I threw back to him said, "And I'll sing, as soon as I remember what song I'm supposed to be singing!" While it was probably less than 15 seconds that I stood up there clueless, smiling and waving to no one in particular, it felt like an eternity while the band was vamping, waiting for me to get to the mic and sing my first line...COME ON IN AND SIT RIGHT DOWN AND MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME! I remembered!! And once I started, I was right where I needed to be. I sang through 2 songs, the crowd was enjoying themselves, and then I got to my big intro, a page of material I'd written to introduce myself, the show, my connection with Patsy Cline, and Patsy herself. I wanted to crowd to get a sense of who I am, and so I talked about being force-fed Patsy as a child (the crowd loved that) and how I came to eventually fall in love with her music. And then, I blanked, for the life of me I couldn't remember what I was supposed to say next. So, I looked at the crowd, held up the "give me a sec" finger, walked to my music stand which had my cheat-sheet of song order and banter, found my place, and smiled at the audience to let them know I figured out what came next. And they laughed, with me not at me, and that was the moment I needed: No matter what mistakes I might make, the audience was there to have an experience, to hear music they love and share that with people, they were NOT there to see a polished piece of performance perfection. From that moment on, I was on fire, completely in my element. There was no fear, no concern when I hit a funky note or mixed up some of the lyrics. No, this is what LIVE performance is all about! Those little mistakes, as long as they are handled with grace and/or humor, those moments are endearing for an audience; they turn a performer into a real person, and it's much easier to connect with a real person than with a performer. Oh, I had such a good time up there! I knew exactly what to do, with my body, with my voice. I knew the audience was with me on those songs that broke my heart, and I knew they were with me when I was dancing with joy. 2 hours flew by, and when I came out to take my curtain call, the crowd rose to its feet, an almost sold-out house of 220 Patsy fans who were now my fans as well. They liked me, not because I had a nice voice or because I looked pretty, but because I shared myself with them, I didn't shy away from my imperfections, and there was no doubt that I was having a good time. THAT is what an audience wants, THAT is why people see live performance. ********* And THAT is what I told my students: you've worked on these scenes for weeks, you know this material, these characters, the world of these plays. Now is the time to trust in all the work you've done, trust that it will be there to support you, and let it go, let yourself live in the moment and surprise yourself with what might happen. Don't turn the audience into the enemy, don't think of them as your critics; instead, know that what they want, more than anything, is to have an experience, to share something intimate with a room full of strangers, and they want you to have fun. The more fun you have, even while doing a scene from a tragedy, the more the audience will be able to get out of their own heads and enjoy the ride. This is the advice I gave them, and I think it helped, a little. And while there were mistakes made along the way as they performed their scenes, they also did the best work they'd done over the entire 10 weeks. They became actors. And afterwards, they were all buzzing with excitement, so proud of the work they had done, so proud of each other. I, too, was proud, as their teacher and as their friend. Getting onstage is a scary thing, but the payoff can be amazing. The performance I gave the night before is one of my favorite performance experiences of all time, one of the only performances that I didn't follow with a slew of self-criticisms. Sure, I wasn't perfect. But man, I was golden. And I am so happy to be able to say the same of my students. Congrats to all of us!!! ************ Also, a big THANK YOU to the boys in the band: Carey Black on bass; Don Dietrich on drums; Fred Speakman on guitar; Doug Zanger on steel guitar; Nathan Brown on violin (or perhaps it's called a fiddle in a country setting?); and of course, David Duvall, who gave me the chance to have an experience of a lifetime. Thank you, my friend, I hope we get to do it again!!

Foolin' Around with Patsy Cline

2012-09-07T09:09:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, ONE NIGHT ONLY!!

When I was growing up, I listened to Patsy Cline. She was my dad's kind of singer. Patsy, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson: this was the soundtrack of my childhood. And I hated it! For a kid growing up in New Jersey, old-time country was a torment. My cousin and I would cringe as we listened to the music of our fathers: banjos and fiddles and yodeling, oh my!! Please, oh please, put on some Bon Jovi or Poison or anything ELECTRIC!! But at some point, my dad's music became my music. And it started with Patsy Cline. I can tell you exactly when Patsy started to appeal to me. In 1994, Oliver Stone's "Natural Born Killers" was released. An excellent movie, with an even more excellent soundtrack. The soundtrack was produced by Trent Reznor, the man behind Nine Inch Nails, one of my favorite bands at the time. I figured, if Trent Reznor likes it, it must be kinda cool, right? One of the songs on that soundtrack was Patsy Cline's "Back in Baby's Arms", and the more I listened, the more I was hooked. That song began my love affair with Patsy's music. And now, almost 20 years later, how lucky am I, to get to sing a whole concert of Patsy Cline material? I'm talking 41 songs, in under 2 hours!!! It's gonna be a whirlwind of music, covering her biggest hits and some songs that are sure to be new to our audience, as they were new to me when we started working on this show. David Duvall (my director from "The Who's Tommy" and musical director from "Pinocchio") is the man behind this whole she-bang, with his company, Purple Phoenix Productions. Tonite is our one-and-only rehearsal, where I get to meet the band and hear what my voice sounds like on top of keys, drums, bass, guitar, steel guitar, and fiddle. So excited!! I've been singing these songs by myself for months now, and it sure will be nice to share them with a band and an audience. Wish me luck and tons of fun!!

Happy Birthday, Mama!!

2012-08-20T08:08:00.001-07:00

This is a very belated post. But the birthday was right on time!

On June 30th, Alex and I helped Mama McLynn celebrate her birthday. (I won't tell you which birthday, not because she is in any way resistant to people knowing her age, but because she looks young enough to be my sister, which means I can get away with telling people that I am in my 20's. Late 20's. Veeeeeeery late 20's.) Mama had never before been to Las Vegas, but after seeing a mailer that I received offering some free tix to see Celine Dion in Sin City on her birthay, Mama felt it was about time she ventured to the desert to party.

And boy, does that woman know how to party!! She was there for less than 48 hours, and we covered the town. Walked all over the Strip, headed downtown to see a little seediness (and witness rock bands, both rad and sad), ate at a couple of NYC restaurants that are tough to get into in NYC (Rao's and The Homestead), hung out with Caesar and Cleopatra in the Diamond Lounge, saw Celine from KILLER SEATS (thank you, Alex, for working your magic), ate coconut gelato and chocolate-covered strawberries while sipping champagne, rode the roller coaster at New York New York (as soon as she saw it, she said "I have to ride it!" though it had been decades since her last ride on a coaster--she challenged the quivering 40-something in line behind us who wondered if he was too old to ride by telling him her age and saying "If I can do it..."), had photos with a questionable Elmo, imbibed at the sports book at Wynn, lounged in jacuzzi tubs. Phew! And the cherry on top was watching the Bellagio water show as June 30th turned to July 1st (which meant Mama had only hours left till hopping her plane back to Jersey to party with the rest of the family and BOTH GRANDDAUGHTERS). What a way to celebrate!

I have learned much from my mom over the years, and the newest lesson: LIVE!!! Enjoy every second of every day, and don't ever let your age determine what you can and cannot do. Hell, my grandmother was 80 when she went to Vegas for the first time. And she loved it!! I've got good genes.

Backin' Up Bobby D

2012-06-24T09:18:00.000-07:00

Last night, I decided I have a new career path to pursue: backup singer. Why, you might ask, would someone who so clearly loves a spotlight want to give focus to someone else? Why would I want to hang in the background, adding one of many colors to a soundscape being provided for some other singer? I can give you two reasons: 1) There's very little pressure put on a backup singer. After all, I'm just background noise (albeit BEAUTIFUL background noise), and if I get a little lost or hit a wrong note, chances are good that no one in the audience will know something is off (and if they do, chances are good they won't know WHO is off). And 2) It's so much fun!! I was asked by David Duvall (who is the best thing to happen to my career in Seattle since, well, since I came here) if I would sing backup for a one night event, "Singin' and Swingin' with Bobby D". It was a tribute concert showcasing the work of Bobby Darin, performed by the fabulous Seattle actor and singer, Bob De Dea (that's 2 Bobby D's for the price of one). I had the pleasure of sharing a stage with Bob last December in "Pinocchio", though in truth, our characters never interacted. In fact, this is the only photo I could find with both of us in it: I'm the blue one, and Bob is standing just behind me wearing the big blonde wig. (He might be in the background in this pic, but in reality, Bob was pretty much the focal point when he was onstage, with his larger-than-life costumes and larger-than-life Gepetta.) And so when David invited me into this project, I was thrilled to have a chance to actually work with Bob. And it was nothing less than thrilling! I knew little about Bobby Darin going into this. I could have named one song, "Beyond the Sea", and I knew that there was a Kevin Spacey biopic some years ago, which I never saw. Bobby Darin wrote dozens of songs (his first hit was "Splish Splash", which he wrote in 12 minutes) and made the works of other writers his own. He sang in a variety of styles, had pop hits and country hits and folk hits and R&B hits (he did a whole album of Ray Charles covers which helped bring Mr Charles into the consciousness of white America in 1962). And last night, we got to sing them all! Well, Bob sang 40 songs, and we backed up about half of them (we being myself, Kim Maguire, and Cheryl Massey-Peters, two top-notch singers that I was humbled to share a rickety little platform with). David played keys and did all the arrangements for a 9-piece band, and man oh man, did he put together a show! The spotlight, of course, was on Bobby D, and the crowd adored him, as they should have. All in all, it was a fabulous evening of music, and I can only hope that we get to do it again. If you'd like a little taste of the event, here's Bob and David performing "Mack the Knife" (I haven't figured out how to add a clickable link to this blog, so you'll actually have to cut-and-paste the following address, then click PLAY on the video--technology is so wonderful, when I know how to use it): http://www.king5.com/new-day-northwest/Bob--159725155.html And while I had a great time being in the background last night, I am incredibly excited to be in the spotlight again for a one night concert event on September 8: little ol' me singing Patsy Cline!! I have David to thank for this (thank you!!), and we're calling it "Foolin' Around with Patsy Cline". We'll have a 4- or 5-piece country band, and I don't expect to have any backup singers (or "angels" as I like to refer to them, having seen Leonard Cohen in concert where he referred to his backups as such). That spotlight will be white hot, and it will feel just like home.

Ahhhh-laska!

2012-06-11T11:59:00.000-07:00

It took him 4 years, but Alex finally caught up to me last week by stepping foot in his 50th state: Alaska! We took a cruise through Alaska's Inside Passage, and while this was my 6th trip to the state, the first 5 visits were to Anchorage in the darkest days of winter, so this trip offered up a very different experience for me. For one thing, DAYLIGHT!! The Alaska I'd previously visited was covered in ice and saw sunlight from about 10am til 3pm. Last week, we saw spring in full bloom under sunny skies at 3am! Sunset technically happened around 10pm, but nearing midnight, we could still make out the edges of the mountains we were sailing past, and a few hours later the sun was back for another day. Awesome!! And while this was certainly no tropical vacation, at least I didn't spend my time outdoors thinking I might freeze to death (I have very little tolerance for cold, and those Anchorage winter winds whipping off of the water made my tears freeze on my cheeks more times than I'd like to admit). Alaska in the summer is the way to go! Here are some highlights from our trip: 1)We could walk to the cruise ship from our home! That's West Seattle behind us, as we took a pic off of our balcony (which was another highlight: our only other time cruising, we had a windowless room, which was rather dark and uninteresting, but having a full view of the world going by made our room on this ship the best place to be). Not having to spend money on plane tickets and hotel rooms in another port city dramatically reduced our expenses and travel-hassles. Where else can we cruise from Seattle, I wonder? 2)Wildlife! Okay, I didn't actually take any wildlife photos (I decided it was better to SEE the wildlife, rather than try to frame a shot of it), but we saw black bears, mountain goats, bald eagles, otters, seals, humpback whales, and even baby orca whales!! 3)The State Capitol! There's Speaker of the House Alex sitting in his chambers. We took an impromptu tour of the Capitol building in Juneau, which was pretty cool. We learned some things about how government runs in a state with a land mass equal to a third of the continental US but a population equal to a large town in New Jersey. Turns out, the state government is in session only 90 days a year, during the winter months when much of Alaska is too frozen over for much else to be done. Congresspersons make about $50,000 for those 3 months (most of them have jobs throughout the rest of the year), and it is required that all of them be present during voting sessions (to the extent that if a congressperson is NOT present, they will send state troopers out to get them--no joke!) and they must all take a definitive vote (AYE or NAY)--no voting PRESENT. Which sounds smart to me!! We also learned that every citizen of the state of Alaska gets paid every year for the oil that is drilled there (they get paid somewhere between $1200--2000 each year), which seems a bit socialist to me, but that's a dirty word up there. 4)The Railroad! We took a trip on the White Pass and Yukon Railway, on tracks that were built over a hundred years ago as a result of the gold rush. We had a tour guide giving us some history on the area, mostly centered around the gold rush of the 1890's. I used to teach a bit of this history when I was touring with Living Voices, but to put myself in the place where it happened...zowee! The scenery was stunning, but more impressive was the thought of what it took to build these tracks, with 30 feet of snow on the ground and granite hills to wind through and grizzly bears to contend with. Anyone who has a chance to get to Skagway should take a ride on this train!! 5)The Yukon! Before we boarded the train, we took a 2.5 hour bus ride from Skagway into the Yukon Territory. We travelled from sea level, where the snows had melted and spring flowers were everywhere, up 3000 feet to mountain lakes and treeless tundra. A magnificent change of terrain, with a brief stop at the world's smallest desert: 6)Caribou Crossing! Okay, any place that I walk into and have a 2-week-old goat thrust into my arms is gonna be a winner in my book! Caribou Crossing is a museum/native arts store/petting zoo/sled-dog training facility just outside of the town of Carcross (a shortened form of it's original name, Caribou Crossing) where we stopped for lunch on our way to the train. As soon as we got off the bus, we were handed plates of BBQ chicken and homemade donuts: awesome! Then Alex and I made our way towards the sled dogs, only to be stopped by a baby goat chewing on my hair: double awesome! And then, there were husky puppies: my head almost exploded from all the awesomeness!! There were puppies as young as 3 weeks old, curled up with each other and their mama behind a fence. But the 3-month-olds were out and about and looking for love, which I was happy to give. Now, I've never been sure what to think about sled dogs. On one of those trips to Anchorage a decade ago, I was staying at the same motel as a number of Iditarod teams (this being the week before the annual 1000-mile race), and I couldn't help but worry about those dogs being chained up on a frozen parking lot night after night. Supposedly, these dogs are made for frigid conditions and love to run. But...really? Well, we had a chance to ride a sled pulled by a team of huskies (most of whom had run the race several times), and as huskies are Alex's favorite dogs, how could we say no? There were dozens of dogs, and they all were barking and pulling on their chains as some were being hitched to the sled. It became clear in watching them that they were all pulling because they wanted to be on the team! And once our team was hitched and we were on our way, their barks were silenced and they just ran. It was fun! Alex and I were on the back of the sled, so we were able to talk to the woman in charge (I'm sure there is a title for her position, but since I didn't think to ask it, I'll call her The Musher). The Musher had run 3 Iditarods with many of the dogs on our team, and she clearly loved what she did. She said she considered the dogs her best friends, and they clearly loved her. Somehow, I managed to get back on the bus without slipping a puppy under my coat. 7)Glacier Bay! Wow. I don't have many more words to describe it. We spent a day slowly making our way through inlets in Glacier Bay, and this is where we saw otters and whales swimming alongside the ship. Glacier Bay National Park is huge, we saw only a small section of it, but it was nothing short of stunning. We witnessed huge chunks of glaciers splitting off and thundering into the bay below, and it was impossible to know just how large these glaciers were, except for an understanding that they were so much further away than they seemed, as was evidenced by a solid 2-second delay in when we were seeing the ice bursting into the bay and when we were hearing the resulting BOOM! This was an excellent time for us to appreciate our balcony room, as it was cold and rainy on the deck, but we could just open our balcony door and enjoy the view while curled under a blanket. Put this on your bucket list! 8)Ketchikan! This might have been my favorite port town. It actually felt like a town, rather than an outdoor mall for cruise ships. The history of the place was evident everywhere. And, we took a tour of Dolly's House, a brothel from back in the day, and I swear, Dolly was serving meals on the same dishes that my grandmother used (tell me if I'm right, Mom): All of the ports were cute and had some unique charm to them, but this one made me want to see more. 9)Traveling to new places with my best friend in the world! We've now completed the 50 states (plus Puerto Rico--and why is that not a state yet???) so now it's time to start checking off countries. There's no one else I'd rather be with as I take my first steps into the unknown. How lucky are we?? And finally... 10)Coming home!! We loved every moment of our trip, from the towel animals left by our superstar room steward Nelson and the "Happy happy washy washy" song which greeted us every time we hit the buffet (ask me later)--the staff on Norwegian Cruise Lines is seriously stellar!!--to the wonders of the 49th of these United States (which is SOOOOOOO much bigger than Texas, and yet I didn't once hear of anything referred to as being "Alaska-sized"), to the joys of just sitting and watching the world drift by as I hold the hand of the man I love...it was all wonderful. And yet, we were so very happy to come home. Home, to a city we love. Home, to an apartment we love. Home, to the friends we love. Home, to the kitten-horses we love (and oh, how we missed them, and they missed us too, as they let us know by not leaving our sides last night). Home. The perfect ending to a perfect trip. I've got hundreds of pictures to share, but I'll leave that for another post. It's time for me to get my land-legs back in action!

Tommy, can you hear me?

2012-06-02T17:45:00.000-07:00

I closed a run of "The Who's TOMMY" last weekend. While I was sad to say goodbye, it was such a joy to be a part of this show! There were a lot of people involved, from the cast and the crew to the band and the production staff, and somehow, everyone was a pleasure to work with. I didn't know much about the show when I was cast (other than a vague sense of who was who in the movie, and a familiarity with "Pinball Wizard" and "See Me, Feel Me") but as soon as I started listening to the music, I was in love. I played Tommy's mother, Mrs Walker, who spends much of the show trying to fix her deaf, mute & blind son. Lots of tears, let me tell you. I got to sing some beautiful songs with some beautiful voices, and it just made it that much clearer to me that I WANT TO DO MUSICAL THEATRE! Who woulda thunk? Anyway, since most of you weren't able to make it to the show, here's some pics (mostly focusing on me, me, me, since I'm the one who's writing this blog, a-hem)... My mother always wanted to see me as a bride (preferably with Alex as my groom, but...)

"It's a boy, Missus Walker, it's a boy..."

"You didn't hear it, you didn't see it, you won't say nothing to no one, ever in your life..."

"How can he be saved from the eternal grave?"

The Acid Queen and her minions:

"That deaf, dumb and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball..."

"When we look at each other, we believe our own eyes..."

"Do you hear or fear, or do I smash the mirror?"

"I'm free!!"

"Come to this house, be one of this families' people..."

Wish you all could have come to my house for this show, 'twas a good one!

Kitten-horses

2012-05-26T10:33:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what marks the official transition from Kitten to Cat, whether it's measured by months or years or stages of growth. In my mind, a Kitten becomes a Cat after a year of living on Planet Earth. (I'm talking a people-year, not a cat-year, which I expect is similar to the length of a dog-year, 7 dog-years for every 1 people-year, though I'm thinking the cat-year:human-year ratio is a little narrower, like 5 cat-years for every 1 people-year, since cats tend to live longer than dogs, but since I'm talking people-years...) And so, in my mind, the pair of four-footed beasts that gallop noisily through my home are kittens. Fuzzy wuzzy kittens. Little baby kittens. See photo of little baby kittens taken on September 3rd, when they were 2 months old, 2 pounds each:

And now, see photo of little baby kittens taken in February, when they were 8 months old:

At 8 months old, Smokey & The Bandit weighed in at 9 and 11 pounds. At her heaviest, She-ra weighed 8 pounds. Ay yay yay. See photo of Smokey taken this week:

As you can see, the cat-bed that once sufficed for 2 brothers is no longer big enough for one. And these boys are still growing! I don't know how much they weigh now, but I wouldn't be surprised if The Bandit's carrying 15 pounds on his frame. And his feet are HUGE!! As are his whiskers and his tail. Oh, let's not forget the ears:

And, Bandit Got Back (to be appreciated by those familiar with the Sir Mix-A-Lot hit):

We've got about 6 weeks left til these Kittens become Cats. I can only imagine how large they will be once they've fully grown (they'll always be kittens to me). And I can tell you for certain, they will only grow more adorable in their mama's eyes!

Tu-lovely

2012-04-26T09:50:00.000-07:00

Try as I may, I do not seem able to keep plants alive. When Alex and I moved into our current rental, the landlord/owner offered to leave behind some potted plants on the balcony, if we were interested in keeping them. I gladly accepted. A year+ later, our balcony is a plant cemetery. In addition to the 3 potted plants that have turned a golden-brown, I've added a rosemary tree, another herb garden, and a cactus. All dead. I should not be allowed to take on the responsibility of plant care. It's a losing proposition for all parties. The thing is, I really like plants. I love flowers and flowering trees and shrubbery. I am not afflicted by seasonal allergies, so to me, spring is a perfect season of growth and color. Rarely a day goes by when I am not wowed by some house-dweller's perfect gardens and blooms. And since my birthday happens in the spring (in fact, it happens to be happening on this very day), and since I grew up in a house with a beautiful cherry tree which would burst into cotton-candy color each year in celebration of my birthday, I cannot help but connect a love of spring blooms with the day of my birth. And since I happen to live in a part of the world that has the perfect climate for certain kinds of blooms, that is how I chose to celebrate myself this year. The Skagit Valley Tulip Festival occurs each April, about an hour's drive north of Seattle. Each year, people flock from all over the country, all over the world, to come check out the fields. Alex and I went up last week, and this is what we saw:

Seriously, endless fields of color!

Acres and acres of color!

There are dozens of fields scattered about, but two bulb producers are the main attractions. You can walk through the fields or take a tractor ride alongside them. We were there on a weekday, and the crowds were pretty manageable, though weekend traffic is said to be a nightmare. I can imagine! Even mid-week, there was still a need for traffic control in the parking lots, and they had us squeezed in tight to make room for all the cars and tour busses. (In fact, they had us squeezed in a little too tightly--we returned from one tulip tour to find our Sexy Beast Camaro had been scratched up by the vehicle exiting along our passenger side. Grumble grumble.) In addition to the fields, there were incredible gardens, combining hundreds of varieties of tulips, daffodils, irises, and more:

It was a lovely day of tulip-ing. A lovely way to celebrate spring and to honor the parents who brought me into this world. Thanks Mom, thanks Dad! Happy birthday to all of us!

Remember me?

2012-04-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

I have been meaning to write something on this blog for months now, and for whatever reason, it hasn't happened. And I've actually had things to write about: wonderful visits from friends & family; some good times that I've had on Seattle stages; kittens, kittens, kittens (who are now the size of small horses). Yet here it is, April 20th, and I am posting for the first time since November. Sigh.

And truth be told, I'm not even posting something new. Rather, I am sharing with you a piece I wrote for another blog about why I love teaching acting to non-actors. (I teach a class called Step 1: Intro to Acting at Freehold Theatre in Seattle.) I am posting this here, in the hopes that it will help ease me back into a slightly more regular blogging routine. Hope you enjoy it!

A FEW THINGS I’VE LEARNED FROM MY STEP 1 STUDENTS by Meg McLynn
Teaching Step 1 has been an absolute joy, not just because I love acting and I love helping people understand why I love it, but mostly because the students are AWESOME! Students come to Step 1 for all different reasons, at all different stages in their lives. Some are simply curious about the process of acting; some are considering pursuing careers as actors; some are returning to an old love, having enjoyed performing in plays in high school or college but stepping away from it until their careers were established and their kids were raised. Whatever brings them to class, one thing is true of all of them: they teach me something every day.
Lesson #1: It’s scary to show up, but that’s no excuse not to show up. It’s a lesson I’ve learned many times before, but it seems to need constant re-learning. I mean, Life is full of scary stuff! On a day-to-day basis, I find myself veering away from the less-traveled paths and traipsing along well-worn roads, roads whose twists and turns have become familiar to me, roads that help keep me “safe”. But then, on Day 1 of Step 1, I find myself in a room full of students who may find it incredibly intimidating (if not totally terrifying) to be there, but there they are! There’s the retiree who is taking the class because “I try to think of things I’d be really bad at, and then I set out to prove myself wrong”. Or the cyclist who shows up because “after I almost died in that accident last year, I decided it was time to start doing the things I’d always wanted to do but kept finding reasons not to”. It is scary to show up, but if you take that first step forward, it all gets easier from there. (Note to Self: Blow the dust off of that rough draft and get someone to read it!)
Lesson #2: The work we do in Step 1 is as much about Life as it is about Acting. This lesson comes in a variety of ways. There was the day I was guiding students through some breathing exercises, emphasizing that “breath is the foundation of everything we do,” and one student, a personal trainer, told us how he uses the breath to help his clients connect their thoughts to their physical actions, which leads to better overall results. Or the day we were focusing on articulation, exploring the ways we produce sounds, and it turned into a discussion on interpersonal communication led by a student who works with children with speech disorders. Or the evening I had students exploring physicality, being led through the room by different parts of their bodies, which led to a mini training session on “closing the deal” from a student who works in sales (I never knew there was a “dominant” handshake, nor had I considered the power of stillness in a negotiation). Each week, I find more truth behind the idea that “theatre should inspire people to embrace the full range of human experience”, simply by listening to my students translate our work into their daily lives. An Acting Exercise, at its best, is a Life Lesson.
Lesson #3: It’s called “a play” for a reason. This work should be fun! Yes, it should be challenging and engaging and inspiring and, sure, a little scary. But above all else, it should be fun. In my career as an actor, there’s been much serious work. And at times, it has felt like just that: serious work. After all, it’s a J-O-B. But then I see my Step 1 students, all of whom have busy lives beyond our classroom, many of whom are dedicated to challenging careers that require massive amounts of time and energy, many of whom have kids to raise and households to run, and yet they will find the time over the course of their weeks to rehearse the given assignments, coming to class with detailed floor plans and duffel bags full of props. And the cool thing about it: they LIKED doing the work, they were HAPPY to stay up a little later to spend time on the assignments, because they were having FUN. Now, I love what I do, I love being an actor and I wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world. But it helps to be reminded, particularly during those tough tech weeks or after a string of unsatisfying auditions, that every day I show up to work, I get to have fun! How awesome is that?
There are many other lessons I’ve learned from my students (and yes, I teach them a few things along the way). But these are the big 3 for me, and they can be combined into this one idea: If I show up, I’m going to have fun. And that applies to Acting, as much as it does to Life. So, thank you to all of my students, Past Present and Future, for showing up on Day 1. You are an inspiration.

'Tis the Season, Part 2

2011-11-10T09:05:00.000-08:00

After spending the better part of a year in Seattle with WAY too much time on my hands and a hope that someday I would be so busy that I would dream of a day off...I'm dreaming of a day off. And it's great! But isn't life funny: a year of next-to-nothing, and then I start teaching an acting class, I have an opening night, and I start a dog walking job, all in one weekend. Phew! That was back in September, and I haven't slowed down, so forgive the belated story I'm about to share:

The Friday before Halloween, I was walking my Irish Weiner Dog, Riley, and his little spaniel girlfriend, Ceri, when I saw The Man at The Christmas House hard at work. Being armed with two adorable pups, I decided to be brave and walk up the sidewalk where The Man was working, in the hopes of sharing a smile or even a verbal greeting. I've found that if anything can crack a smile in a hardened face, it's a puppy. But as I got closer, my resolve weakened, because The Man was hard at work topping his chain-link fence with 2 feet of chicken wire. This is seemingly not the act of a person looking to make new friends. Seeing those snowmen and Santas and little baby Jesus' through the grey mesh of chicken wire only added to my sense of sadness, and also made me a bit fearful of getting scolded for walking too close. But, cute puppies! I marched forth, with Riley and Ceri acting as my Angry-Man buffers. When the dogs were only about 6 feet from him, he took notice of them. I won't say he smiled. But he did stop his activity for a moment and looked down at the two of them. He is a tall man, probably 6 feet once upon a time, but now his shoulders are hunched forward, his head hanging down in such a way that I imagine him having to take great care should he ever choose to look skyward. He had only to shift his gaze from fence to ground in order to see my furry friends, and from there, his eyes came to meet mine. There was no smile in his weathered face, and for a moment, I admit to being a little afraid. I could see this face on Scrooge, and yet, here was a man who began decking his halls with all things Christmas before the leaves had begun to change colors. So, I smiled at him. I said hello. And he said, "The kids have been in my yard." His voice was soft, weathered like his skin. "They took one of my candy canes and knocked down some of the lights." I had noticed this earlier in the week, and I told him so. "I hope this keeps them from doing it again," he continued. He had a few front teeth missing, and he took care with his speech. "Kids," was all I could think to say. "Kids." His eyes went back down to my canine wards, and while I didn't see much of a shift in his face, I'm pretty sure he smiled at them, in his own way. "I like to walk by your house," I said. "It makes me happy." He brought his focus back to the chicken wire and carried on with his work. I walked away, feeling sad and happy, all at the same time. More than anything, I felt nervous, because it was only 2 days before Mischief Night, that night before Halloween when toilet paper and eggs are bought in bulk by kids for the sole purpose of wreaking a little havoc in their neighborhoods. What better target than the house decorated for the wrong holiday?

I breathed a sigh of relief on Halloween morning, to see the Christmas House tucked neatly behind it's new fortifications, nary a TP'd tree in sight. (I kind of like to imagine The Man spending the night on his porch with a shotgun on his lap, glaring deep into the eyes of any would-be hooligans with that Dirty Harry "Come on punk, make my day" gaze that turns tough-guys into sissies.) I haven't seen The Man since I spoke with him, but I am happy to report that all of his snowmen and Wise Men and giant candy canes are just where they should be. Guess the chicken wire is doing the trick. Or maybe those kids are secretly a little happy to have some Christmas in their 'hood.

'Tis the season...?

2011-10-15T19:25:00.000-07:00

It's 6:42pm, and the sky is almost dark. Sigh.

There's a house I've just noticed out in West Seattle. It was a house that blended into the scenery only a month ago, a house that I barely looked at as I walked a long-haired Dachshund named Riley past its chain-link fence. A nice house, to be sure, but nothing about it caught my attention. Until last week. During the first week of October, this house was transformed from an unassuming ranch to a razzle dazzle Christmas cabin. I'm talking multiple manger scenes in the yard, lights strung across the fences and walkways and front and back porches, gingerbread houses on the inside windowsills. The display grows each day, staple-gunned into place by an elderly man who wears a red jacket and red-brimmed cap. That's not to say he resembles Santa. On the contrary, he's thin and from what I can tell, he's not very jolly. Each morning I see him at work, and I keep hoping he'll look up and we can share a smile or something, so I can let him know that someone notices and, well, enjoys the fruits of his labors. Because I do, I totally dig on this October Christmas display, especially as I pass the houses nearby with Halloween decor scattered about their yards. It's almost like this man is saying SCREW YOU to their holiday of haunts and shouting out loud that Christmas is the best holiday EVER! In truth, I don't think that's in any way what he's up to, but I like to play out the possible internal monologue in his head as I walk by:

"These kids with all their hobgoblins and witchery, don't know a thing about what real holiday spirit feels like, they just want candy candy candy and like to throw toilet paper in people's trees, weeeeeeeeellllll I'll teach them a thing or two about holiday spirit, the GOOD kind of spirit, not these ghosty things they like to dress up like, crazy kids with their crazy candy habits, next thing you know they'll be dressing up any crazy way they feel like any darned day of the year, but don't they already, don't they already dress up like it's Hall-o-ween every day, with their long hair and earrings in every place you can think of and shoes that make no good sense to walk in, crazy kids with their crazy holidays, we'll just see what they think when they see this little baby Jesus swaddled in his manger, he doesn't need any crazy costume because he is perfect just as he is and his birthday is the perfect holiday, who wouldn't think so, who wouldn't choose gingerbread over tricks and treats and maybe this year when they come ringing my doorbell asking for candy I'll give them all candy canes or better yet I'll give them some toothpaste to ward off the tooth rot and tell them to come back in 2 months for a gingerbread man, that's what I'll do..."

Honestly, I feel sad when I walk by and see him working. I feel sad because I've never seen anyone else near the house, and so I imagine that he's alone. I imagine that he and his wife shared this house for many happy years, and they always loved Christmas, always loved the decorations and the festive spirit and the music and all things Christmas. I imagine that she passed away some time ago, leaving him alone with the decorations, and now he can't wait until it's time to put them up again, because it gives him something to do, a purpose of sorts, while he tries not to miss her so desperately. The first week of October, and he's already covered the house in lights, he's already covered the yard in plastic snowmen and candy canes. Who does this? I get annoyed when stores have Christmas displays up before Thanksgiving, but even retail doesn't start this soon. Who does this? Maybe he's just kooky for Christmas, I don't know. I hope so. I hope he's the happiest man in his neighborhood. But until the day he decides to look up from his labors and share a smile with me, I can't help but have my heart break a little as I walk on by.

The rainy season is upon us.

Just so this post doesn't end on a note of heartbreak, here's a picture of Riley the Dachshund:

Is that a face you'd be happy to see each morning or what?

Meet the Newest Member of the Family!

2011-10-02T16:50:00.000-07:00

His name is Petey, and he's adorable.

How did we come to welcome a purple PT Cruiser into our lives? It happened like this: I decided I wanted to spend more time with animals, so I looked into volunteering at some local animal shelters, which seems to be a pretty popular thing to do because the shelters I contacted were full up on volunteers. That same day, I got a call from my BFF asking if I'd be interested in walking some dogs (she and her hubby have a dog-walking business and were losing one of their walkers). Seemed like it was meant to be! Only hitch, the business is in West Seattle, which means I'd be putting about 35 miles a day on the Camaro. About the same time, I got cast in a show 30 miles south of Seattle, which meant an additional 60 miles a day for the better part of 3 months. The Sexy Beast Camaro gets 15 miles to the gallon and only takes hi-test, which was looking to be a pricey commuting vehicle. Also, it has rear-wheel drive and a mighty powerful engine, the combination of which means it refuses to drive when there's even a hint of snow or ice on the road. Not so good for the winter driving I'll be doing. AND, we got a super-good deal on the Camaro, and have taken really good care of it and haven't added many miles, which means we can eventually sell it for a good price, though adding hundreds of miles every week would cause it to devalue rather rapidly. So, add it all up, and it seemed that getting a second car was in our best interest, and eventually it would pay for itself in saved mileage and gas money.

But a purple PT Cruiser?

This is how Alex operates: we decided to go to some used car lots to see what was out there, with no need to actually buy anything that day. We stopped at a couple of small lots, saw nothing worthwhile, then went to a larger lot and had a man show us around. We let him know we were looking for "cheap and reliable", no bells and whistles, just a road-worthy vehicle that would safely get me where I need to go without requiring hi-test or snow chains. We were shown some Kia's, a couple of Chevey Aveo's, some cars with non-functioning door handles. Then the salesman asked if we'd be interested in a PT Cruiser. He pointed to a shiny, chrome-detailed, plum PT, and I immediately thought, "Cute, but way out of our price range." What the hell, I took it for a spin. Of the cars I drove, it was definitely the nicest ride, and the previous owner (there was only 1) clearly loved this vehicle and took very good care of it. Still, it was too pretty for our money. By this time, I was tired of car shopping, which meant it was time for Alex's favorite activity: haggling. There are few things that make me more uncomfortable than watching Alex drive a hard bargain, though I must admit, he is extremely good at it. So, I told him that he could have his fun while I went across the street to the pet store to get some cat food. I'm pretty sure I left him by saying, "Have fun, but remember that we have time, so you don't need to buy anything today." And I'm pretty sure he said, "I know, I'm just having fun." Jump cut 20 minutes: I walk back into the dealership to see Alex with a pen in his hand. He looks up from whatever he's writing, sees me, and drops the pen like he's a schoolboy caught cheating on his math test. I said, "Did you just buy a car?" And he said, "You really liked the PT Cruiser, right?" Sigh.

But here's what you need to understand about Alex: he made an offer on the car that was about 1/2 the asking price. They said no way. He said fine. (He understood that we really didn't need a car that day, so he felt no pressure whatsoever to strike a deal.) They went back and forth a few times until finally the owner of the dealership got involved and said, "What do I need to do for you to buy a car today?" And this was Alex's response: "This is the first dealership I've really looked at, which means I don't know what deals are out there, so in order for me to buy a car from you today, I need to feel like I'm ripping you off." I don't think this line gets used very often, because the owner laughed and then said, okay. He showed Alex the invoice for his own purchase of the car, and sure enough, the dealership lost money on the deal they made with Alex.

And that is how Petey joined the family.

But don't assume that we are calling him Petey simply because he's a PT cruiser. He is actually named after a very dear friend of ours whom we traveled to Maine with a few years ago. Our friend Petey Vigs was very excited for us to see the car he rented for the trip, and we had to laugh when he rolled up in a PT Cruiser and said, "Look, I got a Petey Cruiser!" It was a wonderful weekend with a wonderful group of friends, and I will always think of dear Petey Vigs when I'm rolling down the street in my purple PT Cruiser. Welcome to the family, Petey!

Look at how cute he is next to his brother:

Almost as cute at their other brothers:

Spider-rific!

2011-09-28T21:40:00.000-07:00

As much as I've tried to find my inner Buddhist when it comes to the invading army of spiders flanked on my outside windows, I must admit to a giddy sense of satisfaction when I saw the notice posted in the building elevator: WINDOW CLEANING THIS WEEK. It seemed that my live-and-let-creepy-crawly-spiders-live attitude was paying me back in kindness. The window cleaners would slowly descend from the roof, one foot at a time, and they would kick through the webs without ever laying eyes on the detailed and delicate work of the Mosler Loft Arachnids. Spiders killed without a moment of murderous intent. (I'm pretty sure that feeling relief at the accidental destruction of another living being is totally against the good Buddha, but I don't claim to be a Buddhist, I'm just trying to minimize my good Catholic guilt.) I pulled my blinds and listened to the squeak-squeak-thumping of the window cleaners lowering down my building, swinging their ropes from side to side, covering as much width as possible to minimize the number of descents they'd have to make to hit all of that glass--there's a lot of glass on the 12 levels of this building. Squeak-squeak-thump, I imagined all of those webs being wiped away, no longer sitting between me and my view. Sorry, Spidey, but I didn't order them cleaners to come wash you away, I'm just minding my own business and wishing you well in whatever place you go to from here. Good luck, and yes, good riddance.

Turns out, spiders are resilient. And they work very quickly. By the time the sun was setting, two new webs were covering one of the recently squeegeed windows. Son of a...

Alas, it's only the outside of the windows that get cleaned by the brave men on ropes, I'm responsible for cleaning the interiors, which means we're looking out at this fabulous view through dusty, finger-smeared glass. Plus a new batch of spider webs.

Kittens are gross. And AWESOME!

2011-09-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

This morning I was awoken by a kitty licking my armpit. It's a strange wake-up, let me tell you. I was completely under the blanket, most likely in order to protect my hair (more on that later), so I couldn't see what was happening, and it took a few seconds for me to respond by pulling back the blankets and seeing a little kitten face inches from my nose, getting really cozy with my armpit. Gross.

Smokey and The Bandit (yes, we have settled on those names, though we had many good options offered up which we might have gone with had we not already spent a few days calling these guys Smokey and The Bandit, which feels quite right, especially when I use their nicknames: Smokestack and El Bandito), the two of them are perfectly at home here on the 10th floor. They are an absolute joy, even though they are kinda disgusting. Their favorite toy seems to be the litter box, in which they like to wrestle, which makes it really great that we have an extra bathtub in which it can live, because otherwise there would be litter EVERYWHERE in this place. I think they spend about a third of their waking lives in that litter box, either wrestling one another or pooping out half their body weight (seriously, how do such small beasties produce so much poop?) When they are not in the litter box, they are chasing each other throughout the apartment, wrestling on floors and couches and beds. Their next favorite toy is the collapsible hamper, which would provide hours of fun were it not for the fact that they keep collapsing it on one another. Still, every time I open it up, it's like Christmas for kittens. Very funny, and not the least bit disgusting.

And their next favorite toy, well, it's my hair. Oh, how they love to comb my hair with their little kitty claws! Generally I am woken in the morning not with an armpit licking but with a hair tangling. It's like a million tiny strings, and they get so excited they want to play with them all. Which means my hair, when I eventually make my way to a bathroom and confront myself in the mirror, resembles something a modern artist might title "Chaos Theory". I try to tie it back in an elastic, but that just gives the kittens something deeper to dig into. And in my sleep, it seems, I try to escape their clawing by tucking the blankets under my head, which this morning led to a kitten burrowing beneath the blanket and discovering the tastiness of my armpit. Gross. But then, how adorable are they? Just look:

I can forgive their being so darned gross because they're just so darned adorable. Sigh. Totally smitten with the kittens.

Lemons=Lemonade

2011-09-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

I hate spiders. No, I'll not say HATE. I strongly dislike spiders. Spiders of any size, they creep me out. Insects in general have that effect, but the spider creep-factor is the highest. Ever since I was a little kid, playing in our Ohio basement with my stuffed animals and Kajagoogoo on the radio, when a tickle on the back of my neck turned out to be the pitter patter of little Daddy Long Legs feet, ever since then I've had a response of cold fear and minor nausea whenever I see a spider. So imagine how I have felt throughout the warmish-weather months when the fantastic view from my floor-to-ceiling windows has been partially obstructed by spider webs. I kid you not, we've had a veritable infestation of spiders living on the outside of our windows (I've only seen one web indoors, and it had the look of being long abandoned, all sagging and broken and dusty). We live on the 10th floor, so why there are so many spiders up here is beyond my understanding. I think back to "Charlotte's Web" and seem to recall all of Charlotte's little babies being carried away on a wind; perhaps several dozen were carried right to me. I've had numerous moments of being stopped by the beauty of the Seattle summer through my windows, only to cringe when walking closer and seeing all those little legs and round little bodies. Part of me has had the very strong urge to take a broom to the webs and tear them to pieces; however, most of the webs are unreachable from the inside and would require me to harness myself up and drop down from the roof, and my fear of heights is stronger than my fear of spiders. And then, there's also this developing Buddhist within me, who believes that all life is sacred (only last week, I spent almost 20 minutes trying to help a bee find his way from Alex's office to the open window, when I had oh so many opportunities to simply smoosh him and call it a day). Spiders are supposed to be good for all kinds of things (hell, Charlotte could spell whole words in her web) and I know many un-Buddhists who think killing spiders does more harm than good. But how could I live with all this creepiness right outside my windows? In Alex's office, I counted 9 spiders crawling on 9 webs, in only 1 window, leaving barely a spot of web-free glass! Unacceptable, I said. And yet...

Alex found the solution for me. He noticed how few bugs we had flying in our apartment, and considering that there are no screens on the windows and lots of little web coffins on display, there are clearly a number of flying insects on the 10th floor. Alex put it this way: Having all those spiders outside is like being covered in nature's fly swatter. More webs=less bugs. Somehow, that was all I needed to hear. I made my peace with the spiders and thanked them for keeping my home a bug-free zone.

Talk about turning lemons into lemonade.

10 Years Later, 10 Minutes

2011-09-11T07:28:00.000-07:00

Just before 5 o'clock this morning, Alex and I made the short walk from our home to Seattle Center, under an almost-full yellow moon setting in the west, under the Space Needle shining a beam of light into the heavens and flying an American flag at half-mast. We were heading to the International Fountain to be part of a day of reflection. The event was organized by a group called 10+ Seattle, and the intention was to have people gather at the fountain, at any point during the day, and then sit in silent reflection for at least 10 minutes. This was not a protest of any kind (though of the maybe 20 people already gathered at the fountain at 5am, half were holding signs which stated "OUR GRIEF WAS NOT AN EXCUSE FOR ENDLESS WAR"--we chose to find a spot a good distance from them). This was more about community, compassion, and yes, reflection. The Fountain during summer days is filled with swim-suited children who run through streams of choreographed water; it's a place filled with joy and laughter. This morning, it was mostly silent, and while water flowed from the fountain, it was the sound of a babbling brook rather than orchestrated explosions of water. There were candles lit along the perimeters, many placed there by the organizers, many more being brought by the people who were gathering. We sat, in silence, and I cried. I leaned my head on Alex's shoulder, and I remembered that day, 10 years ago...

We were in Seattle then. I woke up early, before 6am, with no good reason, I simply couldn't sleep. I remember lying on my floor, doing some stretches, and wondering why I was awake. The phone rang at around 7:30, which was unusual, and it was Zoe, asking me if I was watching TV. By the time I turned it on, the towers were already down. I remember the shock. I remember having to pull myself away from the TV some hours later to go to a doctor's appointment. I remember walking to the clinic as if I was walking under water. Everything was surreal. I felt like the world should have stopped spinning or something, and yet here I was on a table in a doctor's office getting my yearly exam, listening to small talk between the nurses. Seattle seemed to be unaware that the world we knew had been drastically altered. I felt impossibly far away from my family, from the place I knew as home for so many years. I remember going back to our apartment, and I think I spent the next 2 days watching TV, until I could no longer bear it. I remember going downtown to Westlake Center a few days later, where there was a gathering for a national moment of silence. Alex and I held hands as we walked there, and we were both surprised and grateful to see that there were bodies pressed against each other for blocks; it was the first time I felt that Seattle understood. Thousands of people, and for an entire minute, there was no sound, nothing except the shrieks of seagulls. I remember that night going to the Fountain at Seattle Center, where people had been gathering all week. Again, so many people, and candles and flowers and pictures. And silence. Language felt unnecessary, because we were all feeling the same things. I remember a sense of community that I'd never experienced before. I remember feeling hope. I remember.

Alex and I sat this morning for about 30 minutes, and the original 20 who were there when we arrived had expanded to about 100. Bells rang at 5:46 in observance of the North Tower impact, which is about when we made our way home, then rang again at 6:03, 6:37, and 7:03 to signify the 3 impacts which followed. The sky turned a brilliant pink, then yellow, and now white as the sun makes it's way over the Cascades and brings full daylight to this day of remembrance. 10 years later.

What is it about a decade that is so significant? Why do the events of 10 years ago feel fresher to me today than they have for the past 5 anniversaries? Because they do. I feel a sadness today that is mixed with some anger which I didn't feel a decade ago. I know that anger was an emotion experienced by most Americans. It's an emotion which allowed so many of us to sound the battle cry for war. I didn't feel anger then; I felt grief, and I felt hope, which eventually faded as the country's anger swelled and that sense of community I experienced drifted away to "you're either with us or against us" ideas of what REAL Americans are and what REAL Americans do. My country today feels as divided as it's ever been in my lifetime, which makes me sad, and it makes me angry. I felt angry this morning as we were walking away from what was a powerful experience of reflection and I saw that in addition to the signs stating OUR GRIEF WAS NOT AN EXCUSE FOR ENDLESS WAR, they were also holding pictures of Abu Ghraib and bloodied bodies on dusty roads in foreign lands. I agree with their anti-war sentiments; I strongly disagree with their choice to turn a chance for community into a "with us or against us" situation. Because at some point today, someone who is coming to this place in order to reflect and feel a connection with others, someone like me, is going to feel attacked by those images, as I did, and is going to say something, which will most likely turn into an argument, which will absolutely not be silent, nor will it embrace community. Because I did want to tell them to put those signs away, and I did have to pull Alex's arm to redirect him back towards our path home. We both wanted to say something, but neither of us wanted to take anything away from those other people gathered in silence with no agenda other than reflection. There is a time and place for such images; this isn't it. As the handout provided by the 10+ organizers states:

TEN YEARS LATER, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2011, ONCE AGAIN THE INTERNATIONAL FOUNTAIN WELCOMES ALL WHO WISH TO BE TOGETHER AND TURN OUR THOUGHTS AND HEARTS TOWARD HUMANITY'S GREATEST STRENGTH--COMPASSION.

Even as I type that, I feel my anger dissolving. I cannot blame people who are angry about war; I'm angry, too. For many people, who've never been to NYC or DC, who do not have friends or family there, who do not have childhood memories of looking down from the top of the Twin Towers and feeling as if her feet were going to slip up off of the floor and tip her over, for many people the greatest impact of 9/11 is the decade of war that has followed. For those people, it was the launching point into unnecessary bloodshed and violence. Violence doesn't have to beget violence, but in this case, it did. In this case, it escalated the violence in such a way that there is no foreseeable end to it. Yes, I understand the anger. I remember marching through the streets of Seattle just months after 9/11 with a group organized by a Catholic Church to speak out against the war in Afghanistan, a war which was overwhelmingly supported by the citizens of this country. I don't claim to be a pacifist, but I did see an opportunity for a worldwide community that was lost as soon as we shouted out for revenge. Yes, I understand the anger. And the disappointment. And the grief. But this morning, this day, this is not about the mistakes made after 9/11; rather, it is about remembering the community we became, for a brief time, in the days that followed.

I have done my best not to watch television this week, as I knew there would be much build-up surrounding this anniversary, and I wanted to experience it in my own way. I did watch a video about the 9/11 Memorial which will be opened today, and I cried. I don't mind crying; I don't mind feeling the grief that I felt this morning as I sat on the edge of the fountain and let my silence fill me. I just don't want to be told what to feel, or shown images to remind me of what I'm expected to feel. I remember that day, I remember it well. I don't need any help remembering. What I need is for my country to feel like a community again, and in order for that to be even a possibility, I need to be with others who embrace that beautiful concept of compassion.

I hope you'll join me today in letting go of some of this anger which lives in all of us. I hope you'll join me in letting go of WITH US OR AGAINST US and embracing the idea that we all have the same basic wants and needs. I hope you'll take 10 minutes to sit in silence and just reflect, for yourself, on what all of this means to you. It was a powerful experience for me. And I hope you'll join with the nation at 1pm EST, 10am PST, for a minute of silence. I hope we feel like a community again, for even one minute.

Name these kittens!

2011-09-06T12:33:00.000-07:00

I have a kitten sleeping against my thigh. And another one sleeping at my feet. Heaven!

On Friday, Alex and I found our perfect furry companions in a pair of 9-week old brothers. We adopted them from PAWS Cat City as soon as they were brought in. I looked into a carrier, saw a little white face, and fell in love. Alex was right there with me. Then, a little grey faced popped up beside the little white face, and it was double love. They were very nervous, which is understandable, as they'd just been transported to yet another new location, and they'd been neutered only one day before. But love makes all things seem possible, and we brought them home, hoping that 1) the kittens would get along with each other, and 2) the kittens would want to play with us. SCORE!! These little guys are the very best of friends, constantly wrestling each other (and chasing each others tails, which is stupidly cute), and when one is ready to take a nap, he hops into the bed and mews for his brother to come join him, which he does! They generally sleep curled up with each other (this is the first time I've seen them sleeping separately) which makes them look like a yin & yang symbol:

They are total snuggle brothers!

And they seem to be falling in love with me and Alex. The grey guy has been a lover from day 1, letting us pick him up and pet him, turning into a little purr machine. The white guy is a bit more reserved (though in every other way, he is the more adventurous of the two), but seeing as how that's the one curled up against my thigh, purring away, I'd say he's warming up pretty quickly. It's been nothing but love and looniness in this apartment for 4 days straight!

And now, we have to name them! They came with names (Taz for the white guy and Kashi for the grey) but we're not keeping those. Alex's immediate thought (which says so much about the man I love) was Beavis and Butthead. No way, not even a little bit. We then started thinking of brothers we could name them after: Groucho and Harpo, Bo & Luke Duke, Wilbur & Orville Wright, Michael & Tito, Charlie Sheen & Emilio Estevez. Those didn't stick. Other famous pairs: Abbott & Costello, Kirk & Spock (Alex is a fan of this idea), Ponch & John (from CHiPs), Fonzie & Chachi, Crockett & Tubbs (from "Miami Vice"--I'm a fan of this idea, but Alex says no way), Lenny & Squiggy, Cheech & Chong, Starsky & Hutch (which goes well with The Camaro). So many possibilities, but what to choose, what to choose...?

Alex started calling this guy Smokey...

...which means this little guy would be The Bandit.

Smokey and The Bandit. It just might stick...

Have any ideas you'd like to share? Send them my way!!

Labor Day already? But summer has just begun!

2011-09-04T21:18:00.000-07:00

It was 80 degrees in Seattle today. Beautiful. It felt like summer. It's supposed to be like this all week. Summer. Yes, here in Seattle, we are feeling the arrival of summer just in time for football season. Sigh.

Seeing as how I didn't post anything on this blog for the majority of summer, I'd like to give a quick highlight reel of Summer '11. Here goes...

This is the Rat City Rollergirls Roller Derby Championship bout. Alex and I celebrated our 15th quasi-anniversary by renting a suite at Key Arena for the event and bringing in some friends to cheer on the ladies.

And oh how we cheered when Grave Danger beat The Throttle Rockets!

Our dear friend, TJ, came for an awesome visit from LA. (This pic was taken in mid-July. Does that look like summer to you?) We toured Seattle, travelled to Vancouver, listened to lots of music from 80's hair bands, watched some awful movies starring Travolta and Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson, ate great seafood...it was a good time had by all, and I can't wait for her to come back next summer (hopefully when it actually feels like summer).

We went back to Windham, NY for a reunion with Barbara's Bi-Illogical Family, and...

I got to see Barbara fall in love with her grandparents. And vice versa!

And we got to go to NYC to meet our new niece, who was about as big as my size 7 foot (and who was also seemingly offended by it, from the look on her face).

Another visit to Vancouver, this time with Alex and his mom. (We actually had some pretty great weather, even allowing for an afternoon without a jacket!)

Turns out, our place is right near a parade route, so we got great seats to lots of them, from Gay Pride to the Lions Club to the Sea Fair Torchlight Parade. Pretty awesome perk to our downtown location!

We also have a good spot for watching the Blue Angels during Sea Fair.

I got to take lots of walks to the waterfront with Alex (hey, that totally looks like summer!)

And last, but certainly not least...

WE GOT KITTENS!!! A Labor Day treat. (Don't worry, there will be LOTS more pics of these adorable little fuzzbuckets coming soon.)

And so, I wish you a very happy Labor Day, and I hope your summer has been full of joy. It's been a good one here, but it also feels like it's just getting started. I'm wearing tank tops all week to celebrate!

The hunt has begun....

2011-09-02T11:06:00.000-07:00

Now that we know we are ready for a kitten, Alex and I are wasting no time in making it happen! We spent an hour at the Seattle Rescue Center yesterday, cuddling kittens and doing our best not to walk away with every one of them. I was extra-good at that last part, because we ended up leaving empty-handed, all because of me. It's not that I didn't see anything I liked. I mean, we're talking KITTENS here, I liked them all, I wanted them all, but somehow, it just didn't feel right. And I can't say why. It's not as if I'm looking for the perfect little friend, and really, a kitten is an entirely different creature from the cat it will one day become, so I wasn't looking for the perfect feline personality. I don't know what I'm looking for. I got lucky with She-ra. She-ra was one of only 2 kittens available on that May day in 1995 when I went with my roommate (who was fully in charge of the kitten project; after all, it was his decision and his parenting responsibility, I was just along for the kitten-picking, until said roommate decided to go galavanting in Europe 4 months later and She-ra was left under my care, for the rest of her 15.5 years) to go kitten-shopping at the Boston pound. The other kitten was painfully cute and even more painfully shy, while She-ra was kinda scruffy but oh so happy to jump right out of her cage and make friends with us humans. We figured that her demeanor was a better match for our college-party lifestyle. Like I said, I got lucky with her, in that she was very low-maintenance, she was quiet, she was affectionate without being needy...what the hell, she was perfect. But she was NOTHING like that outgoing kitten I met at the pound. So I'm not looking for the cat who will be living with me for the next 15-35 years when I'm looking at a kitten; I know better than that. I'm just looking for something to love. But somehow, as much as I loved the little faces I saw yesterday, none felt like The One. Which is kinda crazy. I mean, look at these guys:

How could I not love these little fuzzbuckets? How could I not take them home? The little yellow one was cuddly and affectionate, and his grey & white brother, while a total scaredy-cat, was so soft, I wanted to put him under my cheek and take a nap on him. But somehow, I said no, even as Alex had the adoption papers in his hand. It just didn't feel right.

We're off today to another shelter, and who knows, the next little face you see here might be the newest addition to our untraditional family.

One year later

2011-08-31T22:12:00.000-07:00

A year ago today, Alex and I packed up our black Buick Regal and said goodbye to Jersey City, ready to make the move, yet again, to the western side of the Rockies. The route we chose was almost identical to the route we drove in 1998, the first time we embarked on a westward adventure. In 1998, it was a green Oldsmobile that carried us, and the main difference between the two routes was the early part, as we began that first trip from Philadelphia, traveling along the Pennsy' Pike until we met up with Route 80 in Ohio. In 2010, we drove onto 80 West after only a few miles on the Jersey Turnpike. The passengers on both trips were the same: Alex, myself, and poor sweet She-ra, never a fan of car rides but an unfortunate passenger on more cross-country journeys than most Americans will ever undertake. 5 times she made the trip, 3 times westward and twice back east. Not to mention a drive from Seattle to LA, and a round-trip between Vegas and Seattle. And, oh yeah, that first journey, from Boston to Philly. Poor thing. A year ago today, she would have been huddled under the passenger's seat of the Buick, silent and anxious and most likely wondering "Are we there yet?" Eventually, we were. Eventually, we arrived in Seattle. Again. And she was able to get out of the car and find a closet to hide in. One year ago.

Much has changed in the past year. For starters, Buford the Buick is now being driven by a dear friend of ours, and Alex and I are driving a totally bitchin' cherry red Camaro whom we call The Sexy Beast. She-ra had only one ride in The Beast, and it was on Christmas Eve, the night she died, one of the saddest nights of my life. My heart still breaks to think of it. She-ra never got to see the place we now call home, though she spent her last months only one floor above it. Same building, different view. What's also changed is that for the first time in several years, Alex and I have furniture of our very own, furniture that, should we move again, will absolutely be coming with us. No more furnished rentals on the horizon for us. What else has changed? Well, I'm an aunt! Brayton Isabelle is the best thing 7-11 ever produced, let me tell you. Also, I'm the mother of a little girl who just took her first steps! She's balder than my brothers, but she's now walking, which means her daddies will never sleep again. And, oh yeah, I got to see my parents become grandparents to two of the most perfect girls in the world, and while there was never any doubt that they were meant for grandparenting, it is nonetheless an incredible experience to see how much love can fill a room when they are with their girls. (Oh, I can't wait for the day that they're in a room with both girls at the same time--their heads may explode from an overdose of joy!) So much change…

I begin teaching my first acting class this month, that's new. And I've just been cast in a musical, holy cow, that's new. Alex has discovered the joys of balancing work and life, very new and very very AWESOME. And, he and I are happy. Which is not new, necessarily, but the past few years have made happiness a limited experience, so to feel joy on a regular basis again, that's new. And beautiful. I live within miles of my very best girlfriends, and while I used to share an apartment with two of them, it's been over a decade since we were all in the same town. New again. I like it.

The year ahead feels ripe for change. I'm ready for it. The past year has been challenging, not bad, just tough. Tough, yet filled with hope. It's the hope that has kept me going, the hope that this move, this resettlement in Seattle, is a move grounded in stability. Stability, that's new. Signing a 2-year lease, that's new. And looking ahead without seeing another cross-country trip, that's new. Unless something very unexpected happens in the next 4 months, 2011 will be the first year Alex and I have not driven cross-country since we left Seattle in 2003. And it feels good. It feels good to feel grounded. It feels good to think of the place I'm living as HOME.

And something else that's new, very new, is the feeling that Alex and I are once again ready to welcome something fuzzy into our lives. Something fuzzy like a kitten. It's time. We are ready. Our broken hearts have mended enough that we can think of She-ra most days without tears, we can think of her and all the joy she brought us, and we can think of how much joy we are ready for, once again. And so, be prepared in the coming weeks to see pictures of something cute and fuzzy, something with a little kitten nose and little kitten ears and a little kitten tail. I don't know who is going to be coming home with us, but I know that our home is ready for our family to be complete again. Stay tuned...

Shifting views

2011-06-29T11:38:00.000-07:00

Some months ago, I wrote about our impending move from our fabulous 11th floor perch to an unknown location. I've been meaning to post an update on said move, but I won't go into detail at this time. Suffice it to say, we moved from the 11th floor down to the 10th. Same fabulous building, even more fabulous apartment. I've moved many times in my adult life, and this move was by far the easiest. I didn't even need to use the elevator for most of it! Plus, we'd been renting furnished homes since 2008, meaning we haven't had any furniture, dishes, towels, sheets, ANYTHING of our own really, which made for even easier moving! Granted, we did have to purchase all of those items, which required a visit from my mother to keep me from losing my mind (I am not fond of shopping, not even a little bit), but that meant that all of the big items were delivered and installed and put together for us. Best move ever, into the best apartment ever!!

I won't do a full tour of the apartment now, but I do want to update you on our view. If you'll recall, one of the absolute best things about our 11th floor perch was the view. Our floor-to-ceiling windows faced south, and there were no high-rises for many blocks, giving us a stunning skyline view. Here's what we were looking at:

We're now one floor below, and we still have a southern view. Here's what we're looking at today:

Goodbye skyline, hello Honey Bucket. (Honey Bucket has to be the most awesomely inappropriate name for a port-a-potty ever, and it's currently hanging out on the corner of the 12th floor of what will eventually be a 17-story apartment building.) Yes, our awesome skyline is no more. Instead, I get to learn a bit about how concrete-and-steel buildings are constructed (which has helped me understand a little better how the concrete ceiling above me can so effectively fight off gravity). And I get to listen to buzz saws and drills and hammers from 7am till 5pm, 6 glorious days a week. Sigh.

But here's the thing that makes it all okay: our wonderful 10th floor perch is a corner unit, which means that we not only have a southern view, we also have windows facing the east. I wish it was a clear, sunny day today, so I could show off the Cascade Mountains beyond Lake Union, but I'm sure you can still appreciate what we've been enjoying out of our windows, even under the cloud cover:

The Space Needle is just a few blocks northeast of us, and we get to see it every day, from every room! We also look out at Lake Union, which is dotted with sailboats on sunny afternoons. And the view continues to the southeast:

Yes, there's that construction project blocking out our skyline, but there's still plenty of skyline to be seen. (Added bonus: check out the dueling construction/deconstruction projects--to the left of the view-blocking building is a building sheathed in black mesh, which is slowly being taken apart, bit by salvageable bit, after discovering just over a year ago that the 9-year-old apartment complex was a veritable death trap. Funnily enough, the construction is happening much faster than the deconstruction, at the pace of 1 floor per week. The deconstruction, well, it's much slower than an implosion.) And we also get a bit of western view from our balcony and my southern reading chair:

That's Puget Sound, and I like to sit in my chair and watch the ferries go back and forth to Bainbridge and Bremerton islands. It's awesome.

So, this is where I'm hanging my hat these days. It's the first real home Alex and I have had in a while. Well, I shouldn't say that, we've lived in great places, and our wonderful house in Jersey City (which we inhabitants named Maui East) was the perfect place to call home after our hellish year in Vegas. But this apartment feels different. Maybe it's the 2-year lease (which is long enough for our families to write down our address in actual ink), maybe it's the fact that all of the stuff in it is our stuff, nothing borrowed, nothing to be left behind when--or maybe IF, fingers crossed for dreams to come true--we move to the next place, maybe it's the fact that we both feel so at home here, in this city, in this togetherness we've created. Whatever it is, not a day has gone by that we haven't said, "I love it here." Even with the buzz saws and the hammers and the disappearance of our skyline. We love it here, and that makes it home.

Pride

2011-06-26T13:04:00.000-07:00

It's a stunning day in Seattle. The sky is bright blue with wisps of clouds hanging above the mountain tops, and the Space Needle is flying a rainbow flag.

It's Pride Weekend here in Seattle and all over the country, and there is so much to be proud about! The parade route runs just a block from my building, and for the past 2 hours I've heard non-stop cheering and shouting and music. It's a party in this town, and it's a party in this country. Not only is this a day to celebrate and love the person you are, but this weekend is made extra-special by the late-night vote passed by the NY State Senate on Friday giving homosexuals the right to marry. I know that for some of you reading this post, this is not something to celebrate. But for me, for many people I love, this is bigger than big. No, I'm not gay, I'm not even married (not in a legal sense, but Alex is my husband in every sense that matters to the two of us). But I recognize what an important step marriage is for many, heck, for MOST people. And to have one more state in the United States of America recognize that this is a matter of civil rights, that is something worth celebrating. I've heard all the talk about defending the institution of marriage and that marriage has forever been defined as a union between a man and a woman, but I can't support such ideas, not in this country, not in this century. In this country, two drunk 18 year olds can get married on a whim in Las Vegas and then get a drive-through divorce the next day, as long as they're not of the same sex. I know people who have been married and divorced multiple times in a decade, and this is somehow more defensible than a legal marriage between two men who have been in love and committed to one another for twice as long. In this century, we marry for love, but the idea of marrying for love is relatively new in regards to the institution of marriage. Love never entered into it until just a few centuries ago. Marriage was always a business arrangement, and I think most people today would scoff at such an idea. Marriage today is about two people who love each other and want to commit themselves to one another for life, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, you know how it goes. Marriage is not something to be taken lightly, and the idea that allowing gays to marry somehow reduces the significance of marriage is laughable. The idea that allowing gays to marry is allowing them to "flaunt" it, well, that's true. They would be flaunting it, by gathering together their friends and family and saying to all of them, "I love this person so much that I want to shout it out for everyone to know", yes, that's flaunting it. Which is what weddings are about! Every wedding I've gone to, I'm there to celebrate and honor the love of two people. Every wedding is flaunting it! And it's beautiful, it's the most beautiful thing a couple can share with the people they care about. I don't care who you are, if you've been married and have had a wedding, you were flaunting it. And good for you!! I applaud your decision to do so! But if you then say that it's wrong for other adults to do the same things because you don't respect or understand or accept their kind of love, I say that's terribly unkind. Make any argument you want against gay marriage, but you're not going to convince me that it's wrong. In fact, you will only make me that much angrier that this is even an argument. This is the civil rights movement of my generation, and I am proud to be living in a time and place where thousands of people, gay and straight, will gather together to shout out loud THIS IS WHO I AM, THIS IS WHO I WAS BORN TO BE, AND THERE IS NOTHING SHAMEFUL ABOUT IT! To come out of the closet, to remove the cloak of secrecy, that is a terrifically brave thing to do. And to have a day where that courage is honored so openly, so vibrantly, so LOUDLY, that is a beautiful thing.
Like I said, this parade has been happening for 2 hours now, and it's only just begun. Here's hoping that next year's parade will be celebrating even more states who recognize that marriage is a choice, but homosexuality isn't.

Hope springs

2011-05-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

I'm in a funny place. I'd call it good. I'd call it optimistic. I'd call it hopeful. Which feels kinda funny. Let me explain:

I opened my eyes this morning to a cloud-covered sky with bright spots of sunlight trying to push on through. I opened my eyes, and almost immediately, my heart sank, as I felt the sting of my latest rejection. I had an audition on Tuesday for a show that I REALLY REALLY WANT, and the callbacks are today, and for the past two days I've been analyzing every second of that audition, wondering whether I'd be getting a callback. I know I did a great job with the audition. I came in prepared, with strong character choices and memorized lines. I showed a clear knowledge of the script and a keen interest in the relationships between the characters. I presented myself as a professional, someone who might be fun to work with, someone who will work very hard to get the job done. I did a great job with the audition, I know I did. And the casting director and the director were very friendly and I was relaxed and happy to be there and I had fun and I think they did, too. So, I haven't spent the past two days analyzing my performance; rather, I've been analyzing the way they said "Thanks so much for coming in today, Meg." I've been wondering about the tone: were they saying, "Thanks so much for showing us who this character is, we'll see you at callbacks" or were they saying, "Thanks so much for all your hard work, but we won't be needing you anymore." It's hard to tell. And though I spent days obsessing over it, it's really a hypothetical, because there was no way of knowing until....well, by 11pm last night, I knew. After all, the callbacks happen in a matter of hours, and there's no way they'd wait until NOW to call me in. Sigh. And so, moments after I opened my eyes this morning, moments after waking from what I'll assume was a pleasant night's sleep (as I don't recall any bad dreams or night sweats interrupting my slumber), that sinking feeling of deep disappointment overtook me. Yet another rejection to add to the ever-growing list of painful rejections as I seek to begin my acting career here in Seattle.

So....where's the hope?

Funnily enough, the hope arose not too long after the morning's disappointment. Because as much as the rejection is painful, and as much as it's been happening A LOT these past few months, the truth is, I feel like each rejection is bringing me closer to living the dream. I have a pretty good sense of what I bring into the room when I audition, and I have no doubt that I am making an impression on these auditors. A good impression. I am showing professionalism and talent and dedication, I am not walking into the room with a sense of desperation but rather a desire to play. In truth, I've had a lot of fun at my auditions, and it shows. And come on, who wouldn't want to hire a talented professional who has fun even in a situation that could be gut-wrenching? Okay, okay, I've only actually been cast in 1 show out of the I-can't-remember-how-many auditions I've gone to in 2011, but I feel like every rejection is pushing me closer to my goal, every rejection is actually a foot in the door. Perhaps that sounds delusional, but it's the truth of what I'm feeling. Seattle is a small city with a small, tightly woven theatre community. People here are hesitant to take chances on an unknown. I've been told by one casting director that she's a "big fan", another told me she needed to introduce me to her company as they need to know what I can do, and I have had 2 auditions here where the director told me that I did something to "perfection", and while neither cast me (I guess perfection wasn't what they were looking for) I do think they were being sincere. In both cases, the director cast a woman she had already worked with on another show, taking the scary "unknown" factor out of the running. In both cases, I was rejected with a message telling me how amazing I am, what an incredible job I did at the audition, how much the director would like to work with me, but unfortunately blah blah blah. Which sucks, honestly. To be told how good I am, how great I'd be to work with EXCEPT....well, it hurts. Every time. I've been doing a lot of hurting. Last week, I cried after hearing the latest YOU WERE SO GREAT rejection. I mean, what do I have to do to become a known factor so I can get cast in this town?? How can I be so great and yet so unemployed??

But this has been a good week, a week that has helped me feel like the hard work and the determination and the generally positive attitude are going to produce results. Last Friday, I was hired for a one-day staged reading at the Seattle theatre of my dreams, and I had a lot of fun and did what I would say was an impressionable job. And the audition on Tuesday was at that same theatre, which is not the easiest place to get an audition. So I'm officially on their radar. On Monday night, I got to sing a few songs with a band at a gala for the theatre school where I've been assistant teaching, and while there weren't many people watching or listening (we were the background music during the silent auction part of the evening), I had a great time and felt quite at home with a mic in my hand. And yesterday, I did a general audition for another company I'd LOVE to work with and I got to hug a woman I worked with a decade ago who is directing one of their shows this season, and I had so much fun doing my monologue for them. Rehearsals have been great for the short play festival, which opens next Friday, June 3rd. I'm busy doing things I love to do, and I'm making an impression on the people I'm hoping to work with in this town. Even though I haven't been cast in much, I can't help but feel that every audition has been an opportunity for me to become better known, and therefore more of a factor to be seriously considered in the casting process.

And there springs the hope. The sky today seems to be a physical metaphor for my life as an actor in Seattle: there's an almost overwhelming amount of cloud cover, but the sun is fighting hard to break on through to the city below. Yes, I am comparing myself to the sun. And oh, how brightly my little light will shine once I've broken through these barriers! Perhaps it sounds egotistical, but what actor isn't egotistical? I'd like to think it sounds hopeful, or optimistic, or even joyous. Trust me, if you were applying for your dream job week after week and losing out week after week, the only options available are wallowing in self-pity, giving up entirely, or embracing the challenges and trusting that it's only a matter of time before someone will be bold enough to give you a chance, and once you've got that chance, you will run with it and show the world how much that chance is deserved. That's where I'm living these days, at the intersection of HOPE and LOSS, and I know which road I plan on choosing.

PS: I already got an invite to an audition based on yesterday's general. Fingers crossed yet again!!