Okay, so I've been fairly vocal on here about the fact that I'm pretty overwhelmed what with all of my classes, my internship, work, Muse, being married, being a sane person, being an at least somewhat nice person, and the like.
Basically I've hopped over to Nine to Phive long enough to complain about everything that's going wrong, all the while being a bit hazy on everything that's going right.
One of these such things is my simply fabulous internship at the local film studio Envision Productions. Paul, my supervisor, has taken me on all sorts of adventures with him, one of which involves filming a documentary about PUSH Physical Theatre. More on them later, but for now, suffice it to say that I am loving my job. Any day that I get to spend watching them work makes my own work seem worthwhile--and not nearly as exhausting as it could be. These guys work up sweat!
However awesome this crew may be, whenever there's a lot of sweat, there's a chance for a lot of awkward . . . Awkward:
I get to work with these people . . . GAAAAAHHH . . . NOT . . . WORTHY . . .
I don't vaccuum. Ever.
My hair keeps falling out.
The previous two items added together means little red dust bunnies strewn around the living room carpet.
Professor No. 1: Read the next four chapters of the book by Thursday. Professor No. 2: Read the last three chapters of the book by Thursday. Oh, and also these two chapters of this other book I forgot to tell you to buy. Me: AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!
Making bacon-raisin empanadas this weekend. Don't knock it 'til you try it.
That stupid Roll-Up-the-Rim-to-Win business on Tim Horton's coffee cups. I have to use my teeth every time.
Awesome:
Even though I "made up my mind" to pursue a degree in communication and an internship in film, I still get to spend time in the theatre. You don't know how good that feels :-)
Being in the bathroom and overhearing my supervisor talking about me: "She's great. She knows what she's doing. She knows how to shoot, how to edit, how to light . . . It's great." *Blush*
Hosting our first Couchsurfer!
The rim-rolling paid off! We won two free drinks. The cup says free coffee or latte, but they actually let you get any drink any size.
Theatre dates with my love <3 Can't wait to see The Whipping Man in a few weeks.
The above awkward pic is not from this week. It is from three years ago. (Wow, that long?)
I have posted this ill-timed image because I have spent this week missing Messiah College theatre so very very much.
Poor Josh fell at work and really bruised up the old tailbone. Guess he won't be much use helping us move :-(
Our lovely Camry is dying! So many memories in one little car. So little money to buy a new one . . .
My body trying to doze off while driving to work early in the morning. So scary!
Direct (and completely serious) quote from Josh's foreign doctor at the ER after hearing Josh say that his butt hurt: "Do you have chronic butt problems?"
$1400 per person owed to the US government for health insurance. Thanks, Obama! You are the reason we can't afford a new car.
The start of school is still so far away!
Awesome:
We're moving this Saturday! Into an apartment with central air! And a dishwasher!
Everything's packed up in bags and boxes. Beast!
Salisbury steak. One of the few foods that still tastes good in TV dinner form.
The Amazing Spiderman in 3D! A great reboot. Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone have so much chemistry and totally have the awkward high-schooler thing down. I also have the world's biggest crush on Rhys Ifans.
Possible fashion journalism internship. Happy dance. Nervous twitching.
Hopefully going to see some friends in what looks like a great production of Spring Awakening this weekend.
Homemade screen-print t-shirts. So easy, but so creative :-) Expect a DIY post soon!
My academic adviser <3. Love you, Dr. Mrs!
This performance from So You Think You Can Dance tonight. Oh. My. Gosh. I couldn't breathe. You must watch! It's freakin' "Unchained Melody!"
**READER ADVISORY** There is an instance of (censored) strong language some will find objectionable in the poem included in this post.
The purpose of this post is no doubt a bit unique.
I would first like to shed some light for the currently oblivious crowd of lit-lovers who have yet to make his acquaintance to the off-beat and infinitely charming Neil Gaiman. Gaiman is a poet, novelist, writer of short stories and non-fictional musings, lover, fighter, dreamer, and magic-maker--not to mention the fact that he is British and has one of the most delicious accents imaginable. His creative mind is wild and limitless but at the same time controlled, collected, and narrated in a level and soothing tone of voice that no one can quite duplicate.
I recently watched all of the YouTube videos recorded at the "Ninja Gig" of Amanda Palmer, Gaiman's musician wife, at Good Records in Dallas this April. To my delight, Gaiman decided, as he often does, to humbly read a few of his favorite poems, one of which had recently been written about his beloved wife.
All of the poems we beautifully written and even more beautifully read. I cannot recommend enough "The Day the Saucers Came." Make sure you listen to Gaiman recite it rather than just reading it for yourself. It really makes all the difference. The thing that struck me the most, however, was that in my fandom I had never yet discovered the following poem dedicated to Amanda Palmer and that scouring Google didn't turn up any text versions of this beautiful work. All I seemed to find were video recitations.
Well, for those who come behind me, I leave you this, the written version of Gaiman's "For Amanda," that you may pour over it's beauty and sweetness over and over again. Keep in mind that poems written specifically for performance can vary from reading to reading and that many words in this particular piece may be different in other versions available online.
For Amanda, An Appreciation After Christopher Smart, Sort Of
by Neil Gaiman
For I shall enumerate my lady’s charms although they are
numberless.
For firstly, she has a smile like a beam of sunlight
breaking through a cloud in a medieval painting.
For secondly, she moves like cats and panthers, and also she
can stand still.
For thirdly, she has eyes of a color that no two people can
agree on which I remember when I close my eyes.
For fourthly, she laughs at my jokes, sings unconcerned on
the sidewalk, and gives money to buskers as a religious act.
For fifthly, she f*cks like wild cats and thunderstorms.
For sixthly, her kisses are gentle.
For seventhly, I would follow her or walk behind her or in
front of her wherever she wished to go, and being with her would ease my mind.
For eighthly, I dream of her and am comforted.
For ninthly, there is no one like her, not that I’ve ever
met, and I’ve met so many people, no one at all.
For tenthly, she squeals when I say “wastepaper basket,”
and also in the morning, eyebrowless and waking, she always looks so perfectly
surprised.
I would like to begin this post by saying that I have a bajillion-and-one-half lovely interviews completed for artist profile posts. That being said, I am also a bit too busy/lazy to write the accompanying posts in a timely fashion. When I realized that the particular artist featured in this post (our first male specimen, yay!) would be graduating from Roberts Wesleyan College in a few short weeks, I knew that I needed to pay this little homage to him before the odds of our paths ever crossing again severely diminished.
Some of you might remember the mention of Greg here and here. His most recent role in Josh's and my life has been as director of Roberts Wesleyan College's 2011 One-Act Festival.
If only this was the greatest of his achievements, this post would be a whole lot shorter ;-). On the other hand, Greg is one of the most successful artists that I have ever personally met. He is talented in so many different disciplines that I might as well let you know now that his accomplishments as related in this post are about to to begin piling up, starting now.
All About Greg of Potsdam, New York
Greg grew up on the tropical island of Java, Indonesia. This cultural background so far removed from the conventions of American society seems to have given him quite an edge when it comes to his creative life. Greg says of the creative environment in which he grew up, "Indonesians are quite a bit less logical than Americans." He believes that this perspective has helped free him to be more unorthodox in the practice of his art. It also influenced the spirituality of his work, the supernatural being a very important element of life to the Indonesian people.
The Coles family found themselves in Java because Greg's father worked there as an English teacher. The similarly multi-talented Mr. Coles senior also happened to be a talented musician, having majored in music in college.This contributed a great deal to one of Greg's greatest passions--music. He says, "I grew up taking informal piano lessons with [my dad] and singing four-part harmony with my siblings." Greg's vocal ability is impressive to say the least. He loves to sing, especially in the context of leading worship services. He is also a very apt piano and violin player, able to play many popular melodies by ear often without ever having heard the original song.
For a recording of one of my favorite songs by Greg, head over to YouTube: "Hide and Seek"
(C) 2008 Red Seawolfe Images
Greg has been writing and performing his own songs for years, but he also enjoys writing words not accompanied by music. He isn't particular about whether it is fiction, nonfiction, or poetry, and all three types of literature flow easily from his pen. Greg recalls when he first fell in love with literature and how this experience has shaped his own writing:
"One of my earliest 'big kid' books was The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis, and I think the idea of Narnia and the idea of literature got cataloged together in my mind. Ever since, I've measured the quality of literature by its ability to invoke that sense of Narnian wonder in me."
In his opinion, writing poetry and prose is easier than composing a song
because the words do not need to be so carefully written that they can coexist
perfectly with a specific piece of music. On the other hand, he adds, non-musical writing is also intimidating. There is no music to cover up or compensate for what the lyrics lack. In Greg's words, "You can't depend on a beautiful melody or voice to gloss over your mediocre ideas."
Nowdays, Greg is working actively as both a musician and author even though many of his projects have been put on hold in light of the responsibilities leading to his impending graduation from Roberts Wesleyan College. He has spent the past four years studying Communication (a man after my own heart), providing a wonderful statement concerning why this course of study is so important to an artist. As a Communication major, Greg has mastered the art of audience analysis by "reading, discussing, and writing down [his] thoughts about human beings and how we work."
More about Greg including the notorious grilling provided by the Third Degree after the jump!
To quote a newly-made Dublin friend, "We ain't got nothin' on the Macy's Day. By the way, what the heck is a Macy's Day?"
It's true the the Dublin St. Patrick's Day parade is nothing to compare with the New York Parade that delights us each Thanksgiving, but this lively and creative procession still succeeded to impress
(especially considering the fact that no one is exactly throwing money
at St. Paddy's Day festivities. They're too busy funding Guinness
production and churning out "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" t-shirts for eager
tourists.)
My initial impression of the parade was one of pleasant surprise. All of the floats and costumes were handmade,
and not only did they look professional, they were positively unique
and enchanting. In all honesty, many of the elements of the procession
were so "artsy" and high fashion (loooove it), that I bet a less-culturally-inclined crowd would have been bored to tears.
I have to admit, I was expecting a whole lot more drunken revelry and a whole lot less culture.
The parade was exciting and intellectually intriguing. There were graceful acrobats, flying machines, sea creature, flying machines, and even an attempt to visually represent the five senses in the form of costumed dancers. There were beautiful witches shouting snippets of scary stories from the pinnacles of towers on wheels and there were futuristic pirate-rockstars wreaking havoc on everyone's ears. So much variety--it was hard to get bored
even though we couldn't here a word of what was going on from our perch
in the second-story window of a bar overlooking the street.
And for the record, it did not rain in historically dreary Dublin:-). What can I say? God is good.
Title from "Don't Rain on My Parade" by Barbara Streisand.
And so it begins
This is Trinity Bar, the sweet second-story view from which we watched the parade
Ooh, so festive
He's not feeling very festive . . .
A National news crew road past on the roof of a bus
Tonight Kristen and I went out for a traditional Irish dinner and then enjoyed a complimentary performance of Irish music and dance. I'll be posting a video of St. Paddy's Day weekend in a few days, but for now, I'm feeling inspired!
What does this outfit remind you of?
If you said Celtic dance garb, you would be correct!
I think this look can be very eclectic and fashion forward, but verging on costumey if you're not careful. Start with a full-skirted dress that hits about mid-thigh. This can really be interesting if you go semi-formal and then try to dress it down. Tights or knee-high socks are a must, and any type of simple flat or ankle boot will make the dress seem more casual, everyday, and traditional-Irish-dancery :-). The military jacket in this ensemble emulates the structured, long-sleeved tops of Riverdancer's dresses. As a final touch, I think an accessory with some Celtic-inspired patterns would look great. Maybe try some jewelry.
I feel like I would randomly start stomping around and doing high kicks if I wore this. That's the power of the Irish spirit!
I do not have a tumblr, but the is the first blog that has made me regret not being part of this community. I cannot follow Hipsters on Broadway without a tumblr account! Oh, sad day.
By the way, have you seen Hipsters on Broadway??? It is very nearly the coolest thing since sliced bread (which actually isn't that cool. I've been slicing my own bread here in Spain for over a week now, and I'm doing just fine.)
Anyway, this tumblr blog is a user-submitted feed of fashionable outfits inspired by characters from productions currently on Broadway--both plays and musicals. The outfits are just for chicas (sorry, guys) but the looks are inspired by characters of both genders and of every species. I'm thinking of the musical Into the Woods which includes characters such as the big bad wolf.
These are some examples of outfits that have appeared on Hipsters on Broadway. Click 'Read More' for three outfits that I designed and had published on the site.
Revolutionary 20th-century painter Pablo Picasso once said, "Good artists borrow. Great artists steal." Any art nerd knows that, right?
Actually, it was controversial 19th-century playwright Oscar Wilde who first coined the phrase, "Good writers borrow. Great writers steal." Right? English nerds and theater geeks, you with me?
Actually, there is no evidence that points the quote in question to either of these creative giants. In fact, the quote in either of the currently popular forms does not formally exist anywhere in the English canon. It was, in fact, literary master T. S. Eliot who wrote in the 1920 biographical essay "Philip Massinger" the following quip:
"Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least something different." ~T. S. Eliot~
*Sigh* Is there any wonder this guy was a poet? Put that on your t-shirt.
Were Eliot to have included all artists in this maxim, it would be even more superior to either poorly attributed and oversimplified modern distortion of the quote than it already is!
"Good artists borrow"? Since when?
"Here, Miss Rowling, let me just borrow your characters, storyline, and fantastical universe for a minute and use them to write a passionate yet unlikely love story which I feel should have been included in the series partly but not entirely because I have a crush on one of the characters involved in this imagined romance."
This is not art. This is what we call "fan fiction."
T. S. Eliot calls us to a higher standard as artists. Don't just borrow the ideas of others--
Ransack them! Rape and pillage every creative element and distort them until they are barely recognizable! Make them wish they were never born in the mind of another artist!
Ah ah ah, you know Mr. Eliot wouldn't approve. "Bad poets deface what they take." I'm convinced there is a particularly warm place in purgatory for people who do what has already been done before exactly how it was done before except worse.
This is what we call "remixes."
Everybody loves a good example, right?
Too bad there was nothing good about the piece of auditory abomination you just witnessed. Okay, that was a little harsh. I will grant that it was a tiny bit catchy and certainly easier to dance to than the original, but I don't think anyone will argue with me when I say that it was not exactly a masterful work of art that will stand the test of time.
It doesn't take a musical theorist to deduce that laying a bouncy backbeat on top of an already artistically brilliant piece of musical theater is not the sort of thing that will land you in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or the MoMA.
Did that work for you? Was that any less offensive?
Singer David Cook, for whom I voted diligently during American Idol season 7, has a knack for re-imagining even songs that were incredibly definitive for their original creators (Mariah Carey, in this case.) Regardless of how you feel about the original bubblegum pop version of this song, you can't accuse David of trying to recreate that original piece of art. He stole the song and made it into something completely different--something completely "him."
What do we get when we cross-breed the two videos above? I'm glad you asked.
Well, how did you like that?
Oh, who am I kidding? THAT WAS INCREDIBLE! I'M MELTING! DID YOU SEE THAT?! I MELTED RIGHT THERE! Musical theater (favorite) crossbred with sultry indie/alternative rock (other favorite)? I'm in heaven!
In an attempt to be objective, I was merely trying to point out that truly great artists can be even better than different.
They can be themselves.
Maybe you're thinking, "Well, if you're going to be yourself, why not just come up with original ideas?!" Do you really believe that such a thing exists? Do you really believe that every "new" and creative idea to come into your mind is yours and solely yours?That it wasn't inspired, informed, improved, or otherwise influenced by some great thinker to go before you?
Rather than bemoaning the fact that you can't create something that's never been created before or attempting to make cheap duplicates of what has been created before, why not add something knew to the melting pot that is art? You have a fresh perspective. You have unique passions and priorities. You have resources that others don't.
Why not prove that you are capable of possessing value that no one else has? Why not be a thief? Better yet, why not be a thief who returns what was stolen better than it was before?
"There are no original ideas, only original people." ~Jessica Thurston~
I have no idea who first said this, but I feel like not knowing if it was Picasso, Wilde, Eliot, Rowling, Cook, Lady Gaga, or Miss Piggy just makes the point all stronger.
A contributing factor to my feeling poorly yesterday and today is the fact that I am now on an antidepressant to help me cope with my bladder flare-ups. Turns out antidepressants are often used for nerve pain. Of course, nontraditional use doesn't mean you're free from all of the traditional symptoms. They still often make you feel worse before you ever feel better.
So here I am.
I feel like absolute crap physically, mentally, and emotionally. I feel cold, dreary, sick, and drowsy, and I fel like all of the things in the above graphic.
Not deep.
Not intellectual.
Not artistic.
Not a critic.
Not a poet.
Just a girl with a blog that a couple people read.
I swear that I'm not fishing for compliments, but I have been feeling pretty worthless for the past few weeks. It seems to me that every talent I once thought I had . . . everything I ever wanted to do with my life . . . well, honestly I feel like just about anybody could do it better than me.
Not that I have to be the best at everything. It just hurts that people who aren't even trying, who don't even care about the things I'm so passionate about, are experiencing more success than I am.
I sometimes I feel like anyone could do what I do . . .
You better believe I've been noticing examples. I've considered myself a writer for my whole life, and Josh hands in the only paper required for his LIT 101 class and gets a comment from one of my favorite professors saying that his prose is "almost flawless." I've never gotten a comment like that, and writing means the world to me. Rachel has never expressed a desire to model and she hated every minute of her most recent job, yet she landed a job modeling for a painting class when I couldn't even get an email back from the professor. Not only this, but Rachel has speech class with another one of my favorite professors who has raved about her as though she is the greatest public speaker he's ever had the privilege of teaching. Me? I've done oodles of public speaking and never gotten any overwhelmingly positive feedback.
Yes, there's some jealousy here.
Over Thanksgiving break, my Dad was quoting a book to me. I can't remember what the title was, but it was talking about leadership in the 21st century. One of the author's points was that in this day and age, everyone has the capacity to be an artist. Everyone has access to the resources that can make one a filmmaker, musician, graphic designer, etc.
The reality of this truth hit me hard. If everyone is and artist, how does one stand out? How does one make a living creating art when it is available everywhere? Suddenly all of my dreams seemed to reflect the future of some new innovative thinker of the 1890's and not of a girl with her head in the clouds in the information age. I felt doomed.
Today, though, under the influence of drugs that are no doubt monkeying with my thought processes, I am somewhat resigned to my fate. After all, this is what I've been arguing for years! Everyone is creative. Everyone is born with an innate need to create. That's the purpose of Nine to Phive. How can you turn moments in your everyday life and "job" into opportunities for creation? How can you do it for you and for the glory of God?
Not for the purpose of standing out. Not for the purpose of making a living, but just for the purpose of living.
I create to bring beauty from disaster.
I create to cope.
I create to share.
I create to express my love and gratitude.
I create to tell me story.
I create to reflect the image of my Father.
I create because I was created to create.
I create for me. And I create for Him.
Oh, look, the sun just came out . . . No seriously, I'm not making this up just because it would be a good ending to an angsty post. . . Hello, Sun!
