There is a pattern underneath...

Actually...

I had an e-mail exchange early this summer about order in the world... and whether there is any natural order to the world or we create it. I think a lot of it is language - if finding it helps you, awesome, if creating it helps you, beautiful. Both are means to the eventual end of moving your life and the world forward. As long as it's active, I'm happy.

But... no, now I disagree. You can create order, definitely, I think it's vital to do so, but I do believe that there is order to find in the world. Not predestination or anything like that, but too much has hit me in the face lately for me to deny what runs underneath. Like how sainthood, as I read it, involves suffering, be it internal or external, as a way to draw close to God. It is a fatigue that causes you to reach for what you truly need. And how Fitzmaurice Destructuring voice work is about fatiguing the body so that the autonomic nervous system takes over and gets the released breath that it needs. I fully admit that finding that connection is specifically me... but God knows me and my thoughts and how to reach me. I am fascinated, moved, and feel an overwhelming sensation of being meant to study this. I believe in that order and I will follow it.

The plan is to become a Voice and Speech monk. Sounds good to me.

I'm currently helping my friend cobble together a cheap sound system. Is it summer yet?

Now they're under control!

I HAVE A CAST!

They are beautiful, creative people and I am so excited to enter into this collaboration with them.

Also, my set designer is enlarging my vision so incredibly. She does good things for my soul.

(this is the first time I've had consecutive pairing titles. DORK DORK DORK.)

Yesterday things were out of hand

lotmhlakmoaintoh;nae;rgklnw;lekmwl!!!!

I am feeling significantly better. I am actually downright perky. This episode of sickness came at the end of a depressive episode so now that both are fading I'm very excited to be alive. Directing Laboratory this morning was thrilling - one of those days where I marvel at how I ended up surrounded by such brilliantly creative people. Listening to my classmates' visions of 4.48 Psychosis and The Cenci, I was awestruck. How did I land here? Only God.

Today we also had a little mini Positivity Circle. Positivity Circle is something that started last year, when I was talking with Val, who quickly became a cherished friend of mine (Someone: Val is one of my designers. Sean: What is she designing? Happiness?). When I asked her how she was, she said that she was tired (standard PHTS student response), and then said, "But I had a great time last night and got so much done. So it's a good tired," and we had a conversation about focusing on the good instead of the tired. Then we decided we should do this every week, and it grew into Positivity Circle. We'd all go around sharing positive things that had happened to us that day, or problems we were having that so that we could get support and positive energy from the group. Yes, we were a little bit ridiculous, but in a good way.

It's difficult to get all of us together at any given time, so for now, Positivity Circle as it once was is a bit on a hold. Some of us sat outside happily today, and we introduced the idea to some first years. I've realized that I need the time to be positive in my life, and that I love sharing that with other people, so whether or not Positivity Circle is going to catch on this semester, I have pledged to devote that awkward half-hour during which many people are on break to being really, really happy and giving that to others. I try to live my life that way, but it's difficult and I know I fall short. So 1-1:30 on Fridays is devoted to being absurdly positive. Rah!

Besides that, I'm working to keep up the momentum. When I climbed Lookout Mountain this summer, I was fascinated by the process of descending (largely because of writing a fantasy novel). Provided I could see a good stopping space so as to keep me safe, I found it was easier and less treacherous to run down the mountain than to walk it. As long as I kept my feet light and in the air as much as possible, the momentum would help me. (Gravity is free.) If I felt my feet start to slip and trip, I'd jump off of that foot and try another landing, because you can only trip when your feet are in contact with something. In the air, you're fine. If I can keep the momentum of the day going, it can carry me forward instead of allowing me to fall backwards. This navigation is particularly tricky on Wednesdays, but I'm learning it. Another thing I hear in theater school, when doing physical exercises is, "Your confidence will keep you safe." That's because intensely physical exercises, particularly with a partner where physical danger is possible, it's very easy to freeze up, but that hesitation is what causes accidents. The momentum keeps you safe. I'm trying to remember this as I am absolutely terrified about everything that lies ahead of me.

Because I am. I am repeating to myself, "Do not freak out about casting, do not freak out about casting, do not freak out about casting." There is an e-mail that I have been avoiding to send for MONTHS. It's ridiculous how afraid I am when God, at this point, is SLAPPING ME IN THE FACE TO JUST DO IT. I've realized givens about me that I'm cripplingly afraid of rejection, failure, and confrontation. I'm calling them givens because they're there, naturally, and trying to deny them is stupid... how can I use this wasted energy to my advantage? I'm not there yet, but I do want to be, which is a start. (How often have I talked to one of my best friends and said, "Just do it, who cares?!" which is easy to say when it's not you who has to do it. Sawdust and plank, I suppose. Sigh.)

So working on that. My teachers are intensely pushing me towards my fears and that's fabulous, because this is a safe place to explore them. I also have to keep in mind that being stopped by fear is lack of perfect submission to God's will. I would actually prefer to be lazy and hate my life working in a cubicle than to face my fears, and I'm unsure why everyone kept talking about my "leadership abilities" in middle and high school. But God's will, not mine, be done.

I have to share how weird and awesome it is that my friend Carolyn is at PHTS. Carolyn is a first year this year, and we went to high school together. (This now makes three ARGS students at PHTS, Sam, Carolyn, and myself, with a year gap in between each of us. WEIRD!) It's also great because Carolyn was actually one of my best friends in high school, from the moment we were the only two people who cut off at the right time on that quarter note that first day of show choir and just looked at each other. From the moment I started at PHTS, I thought, "Carolyn would do really well here." It's beautiful to see her in the halls. I posted a sign at PHTS searching for sound/voice collaborators, and Carolyn knew it was my sign immediately because it was the font I always use for my signs and notices. (Lucinda Console. Rock it!) And of COURSE she would recognize it. I posted things on the callboard all the time when I was in high school, for shows I was working on or directing, or for International Thespian Society notices (I was President. As was Sam. As was Carolyn). When she told me about her recognition, it brought back so much. I think I like being reminded of it, but it's bizarre. I'm sure Sam must have had a similar experience when I would see him in some costume down the hallway and would say, "Sam, I haven't seen you in shorts that short since Grease."

Crazy. Crazier is that I'm doing what I can to set up a meeting between someone I went to high school with and one of my teachers. While they're in Utah. (This is largely because if I love your work, I'm extraordinarily vocal about it and will encourage anyone and everyone I know who can and should see it to go. Just ask Elizabeth.)

Must press forward. Everything in the world requires me to research John Cage. My set design, a presentation for Directing Laboratory... it's ridiculous. I think it's the universe getting back at me for being in Black Mountain with NO IDEA.

Down with the sickness

I'm sick.

...sigh.

No, it's not swine flu. I'm not sure what it is, some awful sinus-y/migraine/vomiting thing, but I haven't had a fever, so no swine flu here. No need for me to go up on the plague list. (There actually is a plague list at my studio.) I should have left studio early yesterday, having expended all the energy I had during Collab, my second class of the day, but I (stupidly) pressed on because I like my classes. I was supposed to be at a rehearsal last night from 9 to midnight. No way. I took a cab home and (mostly) slept from about 6pm to 6am. I'm feeling significantly better today. My stomach is still wonky because I need to reintroduce food, as I couldn't eat yesterday, but the sinuses are clearing and the headache is minimal. I'm not going to my classes today, even though I love them, so I can stay here and get better and go to my callbacks tonight. I really hope that I'll be well enough to go to Directing Laboratory on Friday, which does require pretty much full health and I DO NOT WANT TO MISS THAT CLASS EVER (especially as it's only an 8 week class). I'm staying optimistic.

And in this optimism I am shamelessly asking for prayers/good thoughts/positive energy to help me get through this. They are much appreciated.

I would also like to note that this time it is not my fault. Unlike the time I got sick last semester, I have been getting at least 6 hours of sleep every night, usually 8, have been eating and keeping myself hydrated. It's frustrating getting sick when I know that I've been doing it right this time. Grumble.

However, I woke up this morning and there was Gatorade for me in the fridge. I have the best roommate ever.

And I mean, God helping, to be one too

"Sorrow, suffering ... is but a kiss of Jesus--a sign that you have come so close to Jesus that He can kiss you.--I think this is the most beautiful definition of suffering.--So let us be happy when Jesus stoops down to kiss us.--I hope we are close enough that He can do it." "So my child be happy ... Do not be discouraged ... so smile back ... For you it is a most beautiful chance of becoming fully and totally all for Jesus." - Mother Teresa

I'm dramaturging a play about St. Maximilian Mary Kolbe, and I find it oddly appropriate that I can find nothing darker than the lives of the Saints.

Art isn't easy.

Well, I have officially had all my classes. My main class today absolutely kicked my butt in every way imaginable. It's my only really physical class this semester (my thighs are screaming), and it also demands a discipline that is beyond anything I've ever attempted. I often joke that there should be a Survivor: PHTS edition, where anyone who has ever insinuated that being a theater major is easy is dropped into classes as rigorous as these.

Regarding the rigor, it is clear that I am being called to a life of discipline. I have mentioned discipline several times here, even throughout the summer. It's a recurring theme in my life. I'm doing a lot, by virtue of this program. I'm directing, I'm designing, I'm dramaturging, I'm in classes. I want to be able to give every single person I'm working with my full attention. I think it's possible, or at least close to possible, with focus and time management, and I'm learning how to balance things as I go along. The more I can commit to this, the more I will get out of it. And that is undeniably important as I move forth in my calling. I am called to do God's work in the world - that is something that I cannot slack on. When God calls, it is all or nothing. It means that I must constantly hold myself up to an extremely high standard, and at the end of the day acknowledge that I failed to meet it. But also, take how I failed each day as something to use and learn from. Instead of trusting myself to try to do better, what steps can I take to make that happen? It's about constantly moving forward, pushing yourself to your limit and then knowing that you can do more. After all... I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.

What's extremely difficult about all this is that I also have to take care of myself. I have do. That is key. I'm useless if I don't. I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately. Not horrible, but not great. That needs to stop. Mornings are already hard enough - I need my sleep. It is vital to my work. I need to eat on a regular basis. I need to not get swine flu. I need, personally, time to focus and time to detox - especially on Wednesdays, my fullest class day. So I need to figure out how to do that so that I can do all I'm called to do.

My relationship with God has never been clearer. This is slightly surprising, but also not at all. I saw some Facebook statuses talking about God-as-comfort, which is a common icon in Christianity. Jesus, lover of my soul. O God, our help in ages past. That is not where I am with God at the moment. There's no Colleen/Jesus cuddling going on. God right now is more like a demanding taskmaster. I see God in all of my teachers as they start to push me. I have never doubted for a second that I am here in this program for a reason. Because I have said, "Here I am, Lord," and offered myself, and God will take everything and more that I didn't even know I had.

In this I'm also working on risk-taking. Doing things that make me extremely uncomfortable, because I know it's good for me. I've honed in on a way to make me do things I would normally back out on - I tell someone that I'm planning on doing it while I'm feeling brave, so that when I'd run away, I can't because I already told them I would. This got me to a really delightful social event (WHAT? Colleen's being SOCIAL?!) that was a blast. This also got me costume designing this semester. Eep!

Something else that has come up a lot lately as auditions have been happening is the fact that some people find me intimidating. This has come up a lot in my life. It was a definite issue in high school, and has apparently followed me to college, where there are plenty of people that are genuinely much more intimidating than me. I can somewhat see why, especially in high school because wearing all black, a trenchcoat and a bowler hat might inspire some kind of intimidation, but since I've known this was a reaction, I've worked on how I talk to people so that I come off as nice and interested and easy to talk to. (This is also one of the reasons I make a point to talk to the 1st and 2nd years at PHTS. First, because I'm overenthusiastic and like helping people. Second, to put myself out there as, "Hey! You can talk to me! It's okay!") The problem with it is I don't want people to be afraid to talk to me because then we'll both miss out on each other. I acknowledge that I find other people very intimidating (some I've known for years and I'm STILL intimidated by them), but I've still talked with many of them, they've let me in and I'm so grateful for it.

All that aside, my intimidating factor seems to be something that I will be having to live and deal with. (The following exchanged just happened: "Me: I try REALLY HARD not to be intimidating. Gillian: You fail. I'm sorry honey, but you're intimidating." And she's my ROOMMATE! Fail.) So how can I open, loving, accepting person and deal with the intimidation as best I can? How to turn intimidation into inspiration? We'll see.

More auditions tonight.

I never knew anything at all...

In my theatre studies classes, there's one surprising name that comes up constantly when avant-garde theater artists are mentioned; Richard Wagner. Yes, Wagner. At first I didn't think much of it, but I have continuously seen references to Wagner, how revolutionary he was, and the generation of composers, theater artists, writers, painters, and even the occasional monarch, who were diehard Wagner fanatics. I think I'll hit on a Wagner obsession sometime soon. I love his music, the idea of gesamtkunstwerk that he champions seems very synaesthetic to me, and I love fantasy. All of the pieces are in place. Probably when I see my first Wagnerian opera, it'll launch my own full-blown Wagner fanaticism.

The thing that blows my mind is the constant description of Wagner as a theatrical revolutionary. From what I've learned so far, I can start to see why. Wagner was the first person to turn out the lights on the audience. This is something we accept now as standard, but in Wagner's time, that had never been done. He worked to focus people on the stage, not on theatre as a social event. He was also the first to hide the orchestra. I find it amazing that much of Wagner's innovations have become standard. Wagner is now part of the operatic canon, despite how controversial he was, so it's difficult for my generation to even begin to comprehend how much of a shock Wagner was to the world - I'm now researching and trying to understand what he was reacting to and how what he did was so different, because I feel like so much of my theatrical history changed because of Wagner, and I have no real idea what that means.

It's funny, because in the more experimental, downtown theatre that I'm a part of, we're turning the lights back on to toss the ball back to the audience, giving them more creative control or implicating them in the production. Now we're showing the orchestra again. We're doing the exact opposite of what Wagner did, but with the same spirit.

What I love is that we're always pushing forward. Last winter break, I worked on figuring out my personal definition of an artist, because this is the kind of thing I do in my free time. I came to the conclusion that an artist is someone who is dissatisfied with current languages (forms) and must constantly search out new ones to express his or her inner subjective reality. Therefore, to be an artist is to constantly pushing forms and satisfaction with any turns the artist into a craftsman. In Kandinsky's Concerning the Spiritual in Art, he refers to the progression of society as a triangle, with the artist-as-prophet moving forward at the tip of the triangle. The triangle constantly moves forward, so something that is innovative one day is standard the next. I love the image of the artist at the tip, because I do believe the artists (including those who are not traditionally considered artists, but are the artists of their fields) are the ones who help us all learn new ways of living.

My mother has mentioned Paul similarly to how I'm talking about Wagner. Paul's letters are such standard theology, and are considered conservative today, so it is difficult for us to see and appreciate how revolutionary Paul was. I've come to believe strongly in working to understand the context, understand what came before and how these people completely blew things open. I wonder how many other revolutionaries we write off by not spending the time to appreciate them.

Together at last!

This is a blog post in celebration of my OFFICIAL stage manager for Tongues, Lindsay! I've mentioned her here before, in connection with her Unitarian Universalism. She also has a blog and posted a phenomenal sermon on art and spirituality that she preached; check it out here. We've been talking about this show since May and this evening had our first official stage manager/director meeting. Lindsay, I'm beyond thrilled to be working with you on this piece. Here's to collaboration!

One of the suggested paper topics for my Dead Sea Scrolls class (yup, I'm taking a Dead Sea Scrolls class) is about the similarities between the Dead Sea Scrolls and Paul's theology. INTERESTING. Also similarities between the Teacher of Righteousness in the Dead Sea Scrolls and early descriptions of Jesus. In the documentary we watched, they mentioned predestination as a major theological point in the Dead Sea Scrolls, so I may investigate that and see if I can write about, oh... Calvinism, because I do miss the John Calvin in my life.

I soundpainted today. Incredible.

INSIDE this hick town, Barnaby, there's a slick town, Barnaby...

This past summer, I had the joy of calling a small town in the mountains of North Carolina my home. The town of Black Mountain was charming, with the local bar and the general store and the rich mountain landscape surrounding it. It was a little bit too quaint for many of our summer staff's tastes, and we would escape to nearby Asheville, which seemed a sprawling metropolis compared to Black Mountain. Even Swananoa was bigger.

Never once did I actually research the history of the place I was calling home.

I AM AN IDIOT.

Today in Experimental Music-Theatre, I learned that John Cage taught and worked at Black Mountain College. Yup. Same Black Mountain. John Cage has been a huge influence on my thoughts and work (and largely inspired the concept for my set for Tongues which I'm SO EXCITED ABOUT). Oh, and, in fact, John Cage staged his first happening at Black Mountain College, which included Merce Cunningham dancing and Robert Rauschenburg's paintings. I knew all of these people were friends, but the fact that this was centered IN BLACK MOUNTAIN completely did not penetrate my consciousness. Merce Cunningham Dance Company WAS FORMED IN BLACK MOUNTAIN. Willem de Kooning taught there. Black Mountain College no longer exists, but there's a Museum and Arts Center that completely passed me by, when all of these are artists that I'm terribly fascinated by and are a vital part my artistic history. I AM SUCH A LAZY UNAWARE IDIOT. I WILL NOW GO BANG MY HEAD ON THE DESK FOR FIVE MINUTES.

::headdesk::
::headdesk::
::headdesk::

(...don't worry, my head will be fine, I used to walk into poles on purpose.)

I'm used to living in an area with artistic history, living in New York. And Richmond has... you know... Poe. But BLACK MOUNTAIN?! REALLY?!

The next time I'm back there, mark my words... I'll do some intense research. I am enormously disappointed in myself. Curiosity, Colleen, really!

A thousand shades of feels

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

That's the "first day of studio" noise.

It was thrilling, it was terrifying, it was exhausting, it was overwhelming, it was beautiful. Wednesdays are also my most intense studio days, going straight through from 9am - 3pm, then 3:30 - 5:30. Phenomenal classes. Phenomenal. They will be exhausting. The thing about most college classes is that you can usually sit back and relax, participate, but it's not energetically taxing. Studio is a different matter. In studio you have to be fully present and available, not only to improve your own work, but to help others, and that's exhausting. I want to get better at that. I don't know how my teachers do it. Phew. I was doing pretty well throughout the day, absorbing, putting forth as much energy as I could, leaning forward, trying not to be struck dumb when people asked huge questions I was intimidated to answer (I failed at that one), even taking a huge uncomfortable risk and volunteering to act in a class (what?)... and then when I finally sat down and let the day hit me, my brain felt like scrambled eggs and I no longer knew what my life was.

It's difficult for me to talk about studio classes because they're so... specific. Yesterday, when I had my non-studio classes, I thought, "Wow, this is what college must be like. I'd like to experience that sometime," because theater school is so different. Half of our classes are ending 8 weeks into the semester because we have shows going up, and that's the work that's important. That's the work the classes are feeding into. Theatre is a world that does not operate on the same ideas as the rest of the world. Nights and weekends are standard work time, not occasional. You don't leave your work when you leave a building. You're never not working, to be honest. Do I have a lot of homework from studio? In the literal sense, no. I have a few things to read, or write, not more than an hour. But overall, I'm in the process of putting together a show and that is bigger than any paper. (and also more fun.)

Today, because it was the first day and because of the classes I had, had a lot to do with logistics. Also, the curriculum completely changed (whee!), so there was a lot of time to ask questions, get clarification, voice concerns, express what we still feel we need, etc. What becomes clearer and clearer each day is something I mentioned yesterday, that I have no idea how much all of these teachers and administrators have worked and are still working to enable me and my education. I actually almost started crying during Design today out of sheer gratefulness. I also look around and where I am and who I'm with and I can't help but marvel at how lucky and blessed I am.

At this transition of moving forward, I am blessed by the teachers and classmates around me at PHTS who have been so instrumental in my development as an artist and as a person. But today I also found myself thinking a lot about the people who "came before", so to speak, and continue to be inspirations to me today. One of those who was in my thoughts a lot today (unsurprisingly, as two of my classes largely focused on staging and composition), is Brandon Becker.

Brandon Becker is my teacher. Sometimes, for clarification, I'll say he's my "former" teacher, but truly, he's still my teacher, and always will be - and that is one of the highest places someone can hold in my heart. He was one of my high school musical theater teachers, and has truly been a mentor, guide, and friend to me for four years. I visited him recently, to talk about my obsession with voice and speech and catch up. (He is also a voice person. I thought this was one of the few ways we actually differed while I was in high school, because I wasn't into voice work. I had to laugh when I found myself in love with voice work, too.) Becker and I clicked quickly because of our similar tastes in musical theater, and the jokes that we are actually the same person abounded.

I think all my teachers in college should be grateful for Becker, because he prepared me for their classes. Not only did he treat me with the honesty and seriousness needed for someone that was planning on pursuing theater throughout her life, but he introduced me to concepts and ideas that usually went far beyond what I could comprehend at the time... but would pop up in college. I was frustrated in his Acting III class when he had us doing crazy ensemble work where we'd have to start walking, speed up, and slow down at the same time with no particular leader. (This is harder than it sounds.) Exercises like this were the first things we did in one of my first year acting classes in college. I was thoroughly confused by the day of Fitzmaurice voice work we did. The second year of voice and speech at PHTS focuses on Fitzmaurice work. The most eerie instance of this was shortly after Becker arrived at ARGS. He came to the school right as I was really starting to get into the idea of directing, and I had been thinking, "You know, how people are arranged on stage means something!" Then, in class, Becker said, "A chair center stage means something different than a chair upstage right means something different than a chair turned over," and I freaked out. This started a huge obsession with semiotics and composition, where I'd pounce on Becker for information, borrow half of his books (including his thesis) and spend the majority of the latter part of my senior year in the Black Box arranging rehearsal blocks to create super-abstract blocking to "Marry Me a Little", my solo for the Sondheim revue. I got to first year design and it focused largely around these ideas, and when we had an assignment that actually involved arranging chairs in a room, I freaked out, may have hyperventilated slightly, and called Becker.

(I also now have an unfortunate obsession with chairs. I wish I was kidding.)

Becker has been subject to so many papers, e-mails, phone calls, text messages... it's more than ridiculous. (Especially the papers I wrote him after I graduated.) The other week I visited him, met his baby (who is, of course, the only baby I've met who's not scared of me), talked aimlessly about voice and speech and theater and life. It was a lovely visit, and Becker's unwavering support of me... not Colleen-the-director, or Colleen-the-super-focused-person, but Colleen, continues to mean more than I could ever say. Getting back into PHTS has just confirmed that he knew what he was talking about, and did in high school, and continues to do, wonderful things in my life.

I don't have studio classes again until Monday (VOICE AND SPEECH OH MY GOODNESS I'M SO EXCITED YAY), because the first Friday of the year we all travel up to the Playwrights Horizons building on 42nd St for All-School, where we meet as a school and kick off the new year. We also find out our stage managers and mentors for our 3rd year projects on Friday. I'm excited.

So sink or swim, I'm diving in

I had classes today. Woo! My two non-studio (aka: "academic") classes. They were very exciting and I'll post about them soon, but I have been thinking a lot about self-esteem lately because of some 3rd year woes, and so I want to post where I've approximately landed.

Being in an arts community means that most of the work focuses around self-expression, and PHTS is built around the idea that everyone has something of worth. Every individual, unique person, has something to share. I do believe that sharing our particular gifts can enrich the lives of others. I had the privilege of seeing one of my teacher's shows in Baltimore at the end of last semester. It was a trilogy that she had written and was performing, and having worked with her for a year, I could tell how personal and how specific it was to her, but instead of being egotistical, it was a gift of her life and experience to the audience. It was very inspiring in a time when I was starting to give up on art, and I'm grateful for that experience. (That trilogy will be playing in New York for the next two weekends, and I'm very excited. I recommend it highly.)

However, it is very easy to make art that is not about giving to the audience, but fulfilling for yourself. And that's fine for some people, I guess, but it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

In contrast, Christianity challenges us to be humble and meek. There is a lot in the history Christianity that is actually denying the self instead of celebrating it. I can absolutely see why; Christianity has such a large focus on helping others, loving God and others more than self, and the strong belief in the sinful nature of humanity. But, like the danger that an artist may become too self-centered, the Christian may become too self-deprecating. While that line is very blurry, especially studying the lives of saints, I feel strongly that if you deny the gifts God has given you, you can deny the presence of God in your life. (As far as I've figured it out thus far, it is the idea that you originally have nothing, all you have is a gift from God, that you then celebrate and use in God's service.)

My own self-esteem has bounced from one extreme to the other, but for most of my teenager-hood, it rested on "self-loathing". (Though I was generally very confident. I don't know how that really works, but since when do I make sense, anyway?) Any self-sacrificing was not out of love for others, but hate for myself, which is not a healthy way to live. Since being in college, my self-esteem has been rising steadily, and I think I'm at a healthier place than I've ever been, largely thanks to brilliant classmates, teachers and friends whom I respect and admire who somehow think I'm cool enough to bother with. Thanks, guys.

However.

3rd year is a major year in the life of an NYU drama undergrad. The way NYU undergraduate drama works is: you are placed in your studio, and are required to spend your first two years in that studio. When you're a 3rd year, you can stay in that studio for your "advanced studio training", you can audition for another studio or upper level program, you can do theater training abroad, you can take an academic semester... you have a lot of options. What this means is you really have to make a choice about what you're interested in studying. Things heat up, because you're truly taking charge of your education. In my program at PHTS, you direct and/or create your first third year project, which goes up in a space at PHTS and is open to the public. This is a major milestone, as you can imagine.

I ran into my first year directing teacher outside of PHTS, and as we talked, she noted how crazy it was that I was already a third year director. I agreed. When introducing myself to the first years on the tour, it was very weird to say that I was a third year director. I haven't deviated from the original plan too much, when I look at it. I auditioned as a director... I haven't so far gone too far away from what I saw as my path (though I'd say that path had a lot more twists and turns than I originally expected, and if you'd handed me Tongues my first year I would have been wholly uninterested).

It's not surprising at all that I'm now preparing to direct my first third year project. But being here I find myself backing away and saying, "I'm not ready!"

The panic sets in. The show rises before me, huge and daunting. I chastise myself for picking something that will be so difficult to cast, and question why I don't have most of my designers yet. Any ideas of how to run a rehearsal room fly out of my head. I remember the time I spent in first and second year observing third year directors, their strengths and weaknesses, and shake at the fear of judgment (not criticism, but judgment). I look around and don't see anyone else freaking out, which makes it all worse. The vampire of despair sets in, whispering, "Who do you think you are? You've been skating by on the reputation you somehow have even though you did almost no quality work last year. People are finally going to catch on. The jig is up. Who do you think you are?"

Yeah. It happens. It would be stupid of me to deny it. I get scared easily - I always have, from when I was little and scared of the dark (confession: sometimes I'm STILL scared of the dark(. While I'm excited about this show and step in my life, and have been for years, now that the moment has come, I'm terrified.

However, shutting down and letting my fear and my littleness get in the way of this is absolutely unacceptable. In all of this doubt and insecurity, and all of this wondering what exactly the role of the self while trying to be humble is, the one thing that makes sense is that if I let this stop me, then I am denying God the chance to work through me. By getting caught up in my panic, I block God out of me, and I refuse to allow that to happen. Also, being afraid of failure is stupid, because it shows a lack of trust in God. A trust that if I put my life and work into His hands, He will not let me fall. Not that everything will be a success by human terms, but that I will learn what He wants me to learn. I am accountable to Him, not the world, but through Him, I work to serve the world. In God there is no failure.

I am scared, because I am an imperfect human who has not yet abolished enough sense of self to not be.
But I do trust... even if it is not yet wholly and completely. I pray for the strength to follow where He leads, because, knowing God, it will be highly uncomfortable.

Start something,
God's calling
Now I'm rising to the task,
Now I'm falling
Now I'm certain
Now I wonder
Now I'm walking on the water,
Now I'm going under

The truth is: I'm not ready.
The truth is: I'm too young.
Sometimes the ones who are not ready are the ones who get it done.

Spread your wings,
Jump off the cliff,
You might not do it if you ask, "What if?"
Maybe you'll live, maybe you'll die
Maybe you'll fall and maybe you'll fly

Start something. God's calling.
--Ken Medema

I recently finished a book called Come Be My Light, about Mother Teresa, focusing largely on her personal spiritual life, which was extremely dark. She underwent the kind of period of spiritual dryness that St. John of the Cross called "the dark night of the soul", where she did not feel the presence and intimacy of God but rather a great emptiness. She never lost faith that God was doing His work through her and the Missionaries of Charity, and saw that every day. I know there is a lot of relationships between suffering and closeness to God, and I want to know more. I know it has to do with the suffering of Christ on the cross, and with purification, and I'm starting to grasp the ideas thanks to this book, but I'm still quite curious. (Quick! Get me to seminary!) Anyway, I found myself hugely humbled and inspired in the same breath. I hope to learn how to greet my depressive episodes spiritually, and even the day-to-day annoyances with joy. Because, really, how much do they matter? How often do we let inconvenience blind us to the beauty of a situation? I waited in line for over an hour today at PHTS registration so I could fix my schedule. It would be very easy for me to complain about that, but really? I was waiting in line to figure out classes at PHTS, at one of the top drama programs in the country, in this place with people who've worked so hard to enable me and give me the classes that will help me grow as an artist and a person. I have no room to complain. There are infinitely worse lines. I'm so lucky to get to wait in that line.

Speaking of that, studio starts tomorrow. My schedule is perfect and seeing the words "Voice and Speech" on it never loses its power. I am in awe and am so grateful for the powers-that-be at PHTS that I completely lose all words that are able to possibly express it. I have been thinking a lot lately about how I have no idea everything they do for us, because I only see a little bit of it. I'm floored, and grateful to be so well-loved.

The simple joys of maidenhood

I went to church this morning (oh Episcopalians! I missed you!).. and there was a street fair outside.

Two of my favorite things in the world! Church AND street fairs!

In listening to the scripture where Jesus gives the two greatest commandments (1, love God, 2, love your neighbor), I was thinking about what he said before the giving the second; "and the second is like it." I wonder if the second is like it not because they both say to love, but if loving your neighbor is a way you love God. Makes sense today.

I met four people today, separately, who I'll probably never see again but brightened up my day and I'm better for knowing.

Now I'm off to Sarah Lawrence briefly. Wheee!

All I can say is, "Wow-ee! Look at where I am!"

Tonight, I had an experience that initially scared me, embarrassed me, and made me feel enormously awkward. Not from anything I did, nothing that was "my fault" or whatever, but simply because I am terrified of new situations, and when things initially faltered, I retreated into these habitual feelings that really don't help anything at all. However, the initially sticky situation cleaned up into an experience that blew my head open, in the best of all possible ways. Everything I thought was wrong completely flipped, and saw that it was actually leading towards something beautiful. I can't explain it in specifics (Gillian says she has the boy drama, and I have the celebrity drama, which is true in its way), but it was a humble reminder to me to skip the awkwardness, which is all in my head anyway, and look towards beauty. I don't need to stress myself out like that.

I have a lot of experiences, like this one, where I like to stop and think, "If you'd've told me three years ago that this would happen, I would've laughed in your face." I love that about life.

I am surrounded by beautiful people who teach me how to be a far better person than I am. Thank you.

These are my friends

It is September 3rd, 2009.

This means that three years ago, I was coming to New York with wildly varying emotions to see the Broadway revival of Sweeney Todd close. The story of what Sweeney Todd in general, and this revival specifically, did to my life is a long one that I'm not going to go fully into right now (if you're curious, ask me). What I will say is that I spent that night with some of the most hilarious, brilliant, loving people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. We met primarily online discussing Sweeney and this revival and became fast friends. We come from all different walks of life, some of us are theater majors, others are theater enthusiasts, some are from New York, some are not (one's even not from the US), some of us were in high school, others in grad school, some had been die-hard Sweeney fans for years, others were first exposed to Sweeney by this revival, but we were brought together by the shared love for this musical that had changed our lives.

These are the people I lovingly refer to as my Sweeneyfamily.

I think it was a miracle for all of us, finding each other. I know for me, it was a relief to find people who cared as much as I did about this musical, who would discuss for hours the most ridiculous details of Sweeney, who not did not think it was stupid that I wrote a paper on the use of chairs in Sweeney Todd, but thought it was awesome, read it, and shared their own observations. While in high school my classmates were constantly telling me, "Colleen, shut up about Sweeney Todd, no one cares," I found the people who did and do care, who have always challenged me and supported me and been there. (And who will be intricately involved whenever I finally do direct Sweeney Todd.)

We are a very tight-knit family. We take care of our own. For members of the Sweeneyfamily who live outside of New York and need a place to stay, our doors are always open. (This is largely how I came up to New York so often my senior year - I had places to stay.) We recommend shows to each other all the time, because we have similar theater tastes. We'll support each other by going to see shows others are working on. I've even watched us come together to show enormous amounts of love and support. One of our number, one of my dearest friends, Jess, lives in Colorado, and was unable to see the revival due to an unfortuate combination of financial difficulties, poor health (very poor health that also makes it impossible for her to go to college or hold a job), and snow storms that prevented her from flying out of Colorado even when she did remarkably have tickets. (She was at the airport, ready to go, and no planes were flying out.) The tour of the revival came to Denver, and all of us were so excited because it meant that she could go - until she told us that they did not have the money for it. Behind her back, we raised enough money for her and her mother to go, pay for gas, and sit front row. Why? Because we knew the power this piece held in Jess' heart. It holds the same place in our own. We couldn't change the weather when planes were not flying out of Colorado, we can't make the doctors figure out how to cure her, but we could give her this. Watching all of that come together was one of the most intensely moving experiences of my life.

A year after closing, I had just moved to New York and was starting classes on the 4th. The anniversary of closing weighed heavily on all of our minds and hearts, and one of our number eventually said, "You know what? We can all sit alone in our apartments and dorm rooms and be sad... or we can celebrate!" And thus, all of us in the area traveled to an apartment on the Upper West Side for the first annual Sweeney Todd Sing-a-Long. It was modeled after Rocky Horror Picture Show screenings; we had a live cast (us), goodie bags filled with ridiculous things to throw at the screen, and themed food. We laughed, we cried, we remembered parts of the blocking that the Broadway actors had forgotten ("I stuck my tongue out at her?" "Yeah, at the end of 'God, That's Good' when she chastised you for hitting the Beggar Woman with your violin bow."). It was pure celebration.

Now, clearly, this has become a tradition... and also quite possibly, my favorite night of the year. So tonight, I'll be packing up my Toby gear (because I always play Toby) and heading uptown to be silly and loving with the Sweeneyfamily once again. They are truly a blessing in my life.

Of course, before then I'll have to practice a little bit. We always wanted to see the tooth pulling sequence performed, so at the first Sing-a-Long, our Pirelli and I performed it. Last year, though, she started college and couldn't attend, so they made me do both parts, by myself. Those lyrics get tricky.

Dressing them up!

(this entry is mostly pointless bragging. But as always, click to enlarge the pictures.)

Gillian and I decorated today. I am enormously proud of our reading nook.


My new bookshelf, the lamp we bought last year for ten dollars, the random extra chair we have, and the death list from the play I directed last summer. We were going to put the lamp behind the shelves, but the floor is tilted so it looked like the lamp was attacking the bookshelves. It created a stressful atmosphere.

I'm pretty proud of my desk setup.

The paintings are mine, mostly synaesthetic. The random declarations and questions are a nod to my high school playwrighting/directing/foundations of theatre teacher/wise sage of all things theatrical, who advised us to write out our theme in big block letters and tape it to our computer screens so it would be there guide us. I took this advice to heart, clearly.

I'll put up the playbills tomorrow. The bedroom is MUSICAL THEATER ROOM. As much as I get frustrated from constantly moving in and moving out, I love this establishing part.

Today... not as overwhelmingly joyous as yesterday, but calmly happy, which is a good place to be. Could not repress the smiles as I walked down the street. I got some other people to smile, too. Also, first subway ride since I've been back. SUBWAYS! Amazing things. I'm so glad I don't have to drive for several months. I'm totally addicted to the smells of New York, too. Mmmm. Smell. Senses, love them.

This isn't a dream?

There is no way any of this can be real.

I spent the majority of today wandering the streets around my school, basking in the familiarity that has somehow been made strange. I am back around buildings and people that I have known for some time - those who I know intimately and those who I just know in the way that people who pass each other every day on the street know each other (like the vendors on Astor Place) - but it's all different. I'm seeing it in a different way because of my wonder that a place as remarkable can exist. That people as beautiful can exist... and the joy of the blessing that they are in my life. There's a small part of me that worries, especially when I've been away from people/places for a long time, that I exaggerate their positive qualities. Today, seeing many of them again, I thought, "No. I don't exaggerate. I just celebrate everything." I think celebrating everything is a good way to live. It's working so far, and is a lot of fun. I had so much fun today, being happy. That sounds too simple to be allowed, but it works.

I visited PHTS today (OH MY GOD HOW MUCH I LOVE THOSE PEOPLE)... multiple times. I have this habit of attaching myself to physical places, and it goes back to my strange history with the word "home". I did it in high school at ARGS, too; I was there more often than not, and leaving the building after graduation was very difficult for me. I hang around at PHTS a lot, though mostly I had legitimate reasons for being there today. When I was there with the mentor/mentee tour, I think I amused our Administrative Associate by how pleased I was to be there. Even after being in the building for a while, I was still beaming. I turned to him and said, "I am SO happy to be here." He chuckled and said, "I know, I can see it on your face. You're glowing."

Generally, I have lived my life with very calculated, controlled reactions. Today I didn't. I had a blast and have never felt freer. To speak in Patsy Rodenburg terms, I feel like I spent most of the day in second circle. It was phenomenal.

My voice sounds different. Range is starting to open up that I limited before, and it comes from being unashamedly genuine. It's not a huge drastic change that I'd expect a lot of people to notice, but I feel it, and that's a start. This was one of my major notes from Voice and Speech last year... funny, that a singer with a very nicely sized range (when I'm on top form) gets notes about not using the range. It's like a dancer who has a hard time walking normally. There's a certain amount of vocal control that singers are used to, and for those of us who have been singing for our whole lives, it's often very difficult to let that control go and let the voice release and do its work without our dictating at it.

I also had my first show-based meeting of the year. I started to be nervous about this meeting, out of habit (by the end of second year I was just a nervous wreck, scared of meetings because I was afraid I'd forgotten to do something in everything I had to do). But I decided to skip being nervous and to just be excited. That was a smart move. It was delightful, and the excitement spurred me on so that when I felt my old "I will avoid confrontation at all costs" habits sneak in, I was able to work to lean forward to meet it instead of slouch and avoid it. There was a calmness about everything, as well, that I know I've never had before, and I thought, "I can do this. I can absolutely do this."

Of course, it's easy to be calm and happy at the beginnings of shows and classes. The hard thing is keeping that energy going forward. I MUST keep disciplined, I MUST keep choosing forward in every moment. I had fun today. I'd like to keep having that kind of fun. It's easy to be excited about seeing people when you haven't seen them in months - how about seeing people for the sixth time that day? Can that kindle joy? I think it can. (I feel like I'm making joy into an extreme sport here. I like that.) I am about to spend another year here with these incredible, brilliant, caring people who believe in the work I am setting out to do. How cool is that?! I am indescribably grateful, and I am going to work hard to keep being indescibably grateful even when I'm up working on projects that I probably don't even understand anymore after getting 5 hours of sleep for three days. It'll be hard, and I know I will not always succeed, but I will try my best and will learn something in whatever happens.

I would also like to work on quickening my mind. I think well, but not fast. I'd like to do fast. I also need to do faster, for inside rehearsal rooms.

I'm almost completely unpacked. It's just books and posters now. I've got to buy some bookshelves tomorrow. My dorm room is unusually huge, for both a dorm room and for New York, so we have more than enough room. Gillian and I hanging posters will be a big deal. We're both PHTS students so the conversation will largely about what they mean compositionally. (There was one poster-sized first year design assignment that we both happened to save, so the pair of those will go up together somewhere. I'm excited.) Having lived a largely nomadic lifestyle for a while, I'm glad to be settling down in one place for a while.

Such a great day. I love all of you.

Also, I have the coolest dresser ever. And by coolest, I mean creepiest.


JOHN CALVIN IS WATCHING YOU.