sitting in my "office"

Me and CAB, at a recent fake moustache party. That's before I got my appendix out.

JF alerted me that I had no recent posts here, and so thanks to him, I am back.

I am sitting at my desk in my "office." in room 300. I realize that I am, yet again, working and living on another year of student time - that's where the year doesn't start and end January to December...rather, September to August. That's my year. I like it. Keeps me young.

I am happy to report that a little money showed up in my bank account today. It's been touch and go for the last year and a half, literally. That's what happens when you're a jet setter (read: poor artist). Yes, I have been back and forth from NY to Los Angeles a fair amount in the last year, and there has been very little permanence in my life. Except for getting married. That's the best thing I did all year. Soon it will be our first anniversary. Time is flying and I can't believe my life is passing so quickly. I had surgery to remove my appendix a few weeks ago, and all I can say is I am happy to be alive.

I am also excited about an upcoming project: "Burt Dow: Deep Water Man" a new musical/opera based on Robert McCloskey's book of the same name. I look forward to directing and working with designers and staff and actors, both adults and children. Sometimes I wonder if directing is my calling, despite acting being my first love. I waver about this. Perhaps it doesn't matter and I need to do it all. I've been saying that since high school. I have essay proof.

I now need to read Flannery O'Connor. Her short stories are staring at me, waiting to be read, and then I need to decide if this is hopeful for the Lit class I am about to embark on. I guess the good thing about teaching is that you never stop learning.

Until soon. Thanks JF, for getting me back on the horse.

teacher teacher.

I understand the work week now. Currently teaching five days a week, I appreciate the weekend for its coming as well as the value of my time. Today, I took a nap because I could. I have much work to catch up on, but knowing that I had nowhere to go (except into the abyss of tax receipts and 1099s and FCP editing) I lay down on the bed, feet dangling off (I slept perpendicularly) and slumbered off. Halfway through this unexpected sneak of a snooze, our cat Daisy nestled near my head and shoulders, and I found myself holding her paws in my hands, like we were sweethearts.
I think I got the sleep I needed. Now, back to work. Or perhaps another nap...?

California on the brink.

If anyone can tell me what it means when a state closes for business, I'd love to hear. This country is in such a deep pile of crap I'm surprised people don't just implode as they're walking down the street or driving in their cars. "The reality of a deepening recession" is how investors are taking this. After billions and billions of dollars of bailout money and fraud from every corner, what will keep us from revolting? Why do I feel like this stimulus package will just be the band-aid on a continuously bleeding wound?
I'm looking for answers.

the largest cockroach ever.

Why the largest cockroach ever has tormented me in the last month is a mystery. Didn't it know death would be the only answer that would come a 'calling? I "bumped into" this specimen last night and I think it injured it, and then there it was, wriggling on its back until it wriggled no more. The previous cockroach from about 2 weeks ago shot out of the stove as I had the broiler/stovetop on, which leads me to believe there is a large infestation behind the kitchen appliances. The biggest trap they sell out there in hardware store-land is no match for the monstrous size of these bugs. Eeeegh. It hasn't helped that in the literature class I have been attending at school we recently read The Metamorphosis. So now I feel like I am killing somebody's son. My fear of bugs is occasionally only surpassed by my fear of flying. On a weekly basis one fear trumps the other. This week is a toss up, after the tragedy in Buffalo.
Meanwhile, my winter break from school is a welcome remedy to the severe depression I have been going through, due to my lack of self-starter theater-making.
Got a post from friends in LA - they are shooting a reality pilot out there and they're loving it.
I think I need to travel.

another hiatus gone bust

Hello dear reader(s)? Hello? Tumbleweeds?
I am back, returned from the land of internet nod, curious again, in the need to express myself on the electronic page.
Back in NY, I can't tell if I love or hate being here in the city. This seesawing hits me on a daily basis. As we look at our dwindling bank account, I hate it here. It's too expensive. As I step into another theater to help out or work on a project, I love it here. As I learn to teach at a public middle school, it's hard to tell. I've been teaching full time since the beginning of January - it is undoubtedly a recession-proof job, but I don't know if it's my calling. My recent stepping-into-theaters experience leads me to believe that my home is the theater and teaching is a way station. But I feel fortunate to have a job, in this, the worst economy since the '30s. And it's way more inspiring, interesting and rewarding than my other life as a word processor. I am sitting in on a social studies class, looking at civil rights history (beginning with the end of slavery). When I learned about civil rights in middle school we were given one day for Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr., and that was it. But here, some fortunate 'tweens in the NYC schools are learning about the details of Emmett Till and African Americans in the military and racism's history which shows its ugly face in light of events happening today. I should mention that where I work is super special. I imagine that most schools are not like this (it's what I've been told).
Meanwhile, my spotty relationship with theater continues. I am working on a project going up at the Joyce SoHo in a week - a little 10 minute movement/theater piece - very fun, though I feel incredibly out of shape and somewhat of an outsider. I've had that outsider feeling a lot, since I had a falling out with a director/colleague over a year ago. The details of this unfortunate event are not so important. What I do know is that I am looking for a theater home, hence, feeling of being an exile. I sometimes wonder if I need to create this home for myself rather than look to other artists. As I write this, I know the answer is yes, and that I need to be a self-starter, cultivate something, and quick.
But I ramble. Thanks for reading.

Red Hook, Brooklyn, October 2008