Days in the Rain

Thursday. My day off.

A few twirls of the wrist, a sharp downward stab, and my hair is piled on top of my head into a bun, secured by a stray mechanical pencil I found on the counter. Because it is such a wonderfully dreary, rainy day, that means I have to push up the sleeves of my oversize sweater and kick off my shoes before I can snuggle into the couch with a cup of tea. But not before running into the next room to wrap my arms around my always-doing-something-productive mother, peck her cheek with a kiss and offer her a cup of Earl Grey. It is certainly one of those days...

However, if I lived in the following painting, my day might go something like this:

"Dear Diary, 

Well, it is certainly another dreary day here in Paris. The winter chill has really set into my bones, it seems. No matter how many layers of silly clothing I seem to put on, it always seems to bite right through and chill me directly to the core. Fortunately, Mark is going to be arriving momentarily and has offered to take me to the theatre for the afternoon. Of course, the theatre is always dreadfully cold as well so I must be certain to wear my fur-lined wrap or else I shall be very sorry indeed.

Oh, I suppose it's not all that bad. After all, I'm used to the rain in England.. I suppose I imagined Paris would be different somehow; an enchanted, perpetually sunny kingdom where men and women were at liberty to roam about in their underthings because, well, they can. Silly, isn't it?  

But, despite the rain, I am glad to be here - even if it is just for a short holiday.  

Ah! That will be Mark at the door. He is always sickeningly punctual, the dear. Ta for now."




But what if I lived in this picture? What if that little girl was, in fact, me at this very moment? I can imagine my day going somewhat like this:

"Dear Diary,

This morning I woke up and GUESS WHAT! It was RAINING!!! I was so excited I ran downstairs and out the door before I even put any shoes on. Mom came outside though and yelled, "Ellyn Elizabeth you better come back in here and get dressed before you catch cold!" I guess I was a little excited. It's just that, I LOVE rainy days. I love how they smell, I love how it makes my house feel, I love the puddles, but I especially love rainy days because I get to use my pretty umbrella. I love my umbrella. I picked it out myself with my Grammy when she took me shopping for my birthday. I guess she thought it was funny that I picked out an umbrella but I love it. I love it so much. Ok gotta go now! Don't want to miss any more raaaiiin!" 





Well, as it is, I am in Phoenix, Arizona, on a delightfully rainy day. I have no intention of being anything but perfectly content today. I think I'll go pop in a movie. Or three.

Ellyn in the Apple

So, this morning, I woke up in a lovely studio apartment in New York City at 85th and Columbus. My lovely friend Kjirsten Johnson was kind enough to put me up for two weeks as I adventured around the city, seeing shows, auditioning, spending some time with friends and making new ones in an acting class.

The trip was originally only supposed to be for 9 days, but after my audition on Saturday at The Simon Studio, I was cast in their bi-annual production of "Bard at the Bar" - a collage of various Shakespeare scenes, monologues and songs. My boss was gracious enough to allow me to extend my stay in the city, and Kjirsten was kind enough to allow me to intrude on her life for a few more days. She really convinced me more than anyone about what I should do - it's amazing how we can let the comfort of our lives prevent us from taking risks and seizing the opportunities that will set us on the fast-track to the rest of our lives. So I stayed - and did the show. And just about ran out of money (New York will do that to you.) But can I get a hoorah for good friends and supportive families? Hoorah!

I met a lovely girl named Gillian in the show - she moved to the city from Montana just about a year ago and she said I reminded her of herself when she first moved to the city. She was extraordinarily helpful and really encouraged me to just 'make the leap' because living in New York is never going to be easy. (Funny, that's what my dad has been saying for years...) She gave me the name and number of a woman who will be in need of a nanny in January and also the name and number of her apartment broker.

The show. I got really lucky, guys. The show was absolutely fantastic. It was held at the very illustrious and historic "The Players Club" which was the former residence of actor extraordinaire Edwin Booth.

The interior was even more beautiful than the exterior. I believe it was four or five stories high, with wide staircases covered in red carpet and escorted by rich, wooden banisters. The walls were lined with portraits of famous actors (I took my picture next to one Kate Hepburn..) Up in the dining hall, which was a throw-back to the 18th century, the dark wooden walls and creaky hard-wood floors shone warmly under the light of chandeliers. There was an exceptionally large portrait of Edwin Booth in Hamlet garb (which served quite useful in a scene from Hamlet, where the actor playing Hamlet used the portrait to as the portrait of his father in the confrontation scene with Gertrude.)

It was warm and crowded, and we filled the hall with the words and musicality of my favorite playwright. It was rich - sumptuous, a second Thanksgiving feast, really. Although a stage was provided in the room it was scarcely used by the players, we sat with the audience, and simply got up and interacted with them as we performed our scenes, our speeches, our songs. It felt right - like I was performing at the Globe and was playing and interacting with the groundlings. Shakespeare is, after all, an experience.

Yeah, I got really lucky. Phew. Can't wait to do it again.

I was Audrey in a scene from "As You Like It" and my Touchstone was a delightful New Yorker named Frankie B. You know what? I really like hearing Shakespeare in a thick New Yorker accent.

"Come apace, good Oo-ahdge-ry." (that was the best I could sound out the Long Island pronunciation of "Audrey" phonetically."

Sadly, my digital camera is out of commission, so I took all my pictures with a disposable. I'll post pictures as soon as I get them developed, scanned, and uploaded. Ahh technology. I guess you can be useful sometimes ;)

Well friends, it's time for another of my signature abrupt endings. I'm at the Philadelphia airport and I should probably wander over to my gate.

Ta for now. More to come..I promise.. :)

The Glass

"There's this wall. I'm on one side, you're on the other. And it's really thick, right? Only, it's made of glass. And I mean, crystal clear glass. But I can't touch you because there's this two-foot thick glass wall in between us. And there's no way around it. Or through it, for that matter. Because the wall stretches around the whole world. Dividing you and me forever. Oh can you hang on a second? Someone's at the door."

"Ok, sorry I'm back. UPS guy. Ok so anyway, I can see you, right? And you can see me. We both put our hands up against the wall and we just keep staring at each other. And then I started to cry because I realized our hands will never, ever touch. And then it hits me. I'm going to miss you every day. I'm going to walk around in my world, and look over, and there will be that glass wall, and you on the other side of it. And I'll try to talk to you and be a part of your life, but I won't ever be able to. You saw me crying, so you came right up next to the wall and sat down and put your hand against the glass, and I could tell you were saying something nice because I saw your lips moving and your eyes were concerned, but I couldn't hear you. I couldn't hear anything. That's when I woke up. Crazy dream, right?"

Autumnal Reflections

There have been a thousand-thousand writings and musings and ponderings and angst-ings about the coming season. Consider this post another leaf to add to the pile.

First of all, let me just say, I LOVE the holiday season. I love the weather, I love the clothes I get to wear, I love the relief of the cool, crisp air from an overly-long summer heat. I love how everyone knows Christmas is coming, and it shows on their faces. I love how I feel when I sit inside a coffee shop; as the lights go down outside, the warm orange glow of the ambient lighting inside the shop seeps into my eyes, blurring the world to a hazier, friendlier colour. I love how I dress in this type of weather. I am obsessed with scarves, hats and coats. And living in Arizona, I don't get much opportunity to take advantage of the aforementioned obsession. But it's coming. The winter chill is almost here. I can taste it. I can hear it. I can smell it. And it's flooding my senses.

Did I tell you already that I hate the television? I didn't have cable for about..six years, and when I moved in with my fabulous roommate, I discovered DirectTv. And I'm certain it has turned my brain to mush. I couldn't figure out why I was feeling so lethargic, so impatient, and so temperamental. And then I realized the common denominator: every day  I felt that way was a day I had spent at least an hour watching the TV. It stifled my creativity, it shortened my temper, it decreased my attention span and made me extraordinarily impatient, lazy and depressed. Why isn't television illegal? Anyway, I've decided I'm not ever watching the blasted thing again. I'll watch movies and my Doctor Who and maybe a documentary, but I can get all of those on DVD. Without commercial breaks.

Anyway, the point of me bringing that bit about the TV up was to move into this portion of the post: this season brings out the writer in me. I don't know what it is, but I get..extraordinarily romantic and creative around this time of year.

And hey, while we're being honest, can I just say, I really want to have someone to share the holidays with? Uh oh.. The voice of Bridget Jones just popped in my head.
"...Will find nice sensible boyfriend and stop forming romantic attachments to any of the following: alcoholics, workaholics, sexaholics, commitment-phobics, peeping toms, megalomaniacs, emotional f***wits, or perverts. Will especially stop fantasizing about a particular person who embodies all these things."

 I don't think I'm quite to Bridget-status, but with the holidays coming up, it just intensifies the whole 'I have been single for a long time' feeling. And I mean, it's not like it's really important or even a priority, but it's just..well..I'm allowed to be a girl sometimes and this is how I feel!
"Do you not know I am a woman? When I think, I must speak!"

Oh, and Santa, while I'm blathering on about my selfish desires for romance during the holidays, do you reckon I could have a New Year's Eve kiss this year? For once? Maybe?

And while I'm at it why don't I wish for an unlimited gift card to Anthropologie, a size 22 inch waist so I can actually fit into vintage clothing, a big time movie role, and a plane ticket to Venice, Italy? I would also accept Paris, France, New York, New York, and London, England.

Thanks.

My oh my. Time to wrap it up.

See you soon.

A Friday Free

Glam trobble spilk troht goop. Seenk Maren thumby pluff dumbed.

There now. I've begun. The best way to begin, Frodo Baggins, is to just begin. Trot one finger in front of the other and go on your merry way. Creating something.

This morning, I awoke as usual. I watched a terribly melodramatic 1990's romance film called "Untamed Heart" with Christian Slater and Marisa Tomei. Why did I watch it? Can't be sure. Something about, not wanting to start my day. I had half a grapefruit and two slices of cinnamon raisin Ezekiel bread and aren't you so glad you're reading this right now this absolutely fascinating piece of literature?

This table is really much too tall. Or perhaps the chair is much too short. Either way, I am being forced to sit in an upright position with my elbows almost at a right angle so that I can type this entry without straining my neck down like a great bigluvulating giraffe bending down for a sip of water on a hot day.

See that? I just keep going and writing nonsense. But don't worry, this spur of the moment preamble will certainly lead to something of worth. Or at least of note. Or at least of something not so entirely void of entertainment as this post has been thus far.

Do you know, I am sipping a glorious beverage. A soy caramelized pear tea latte. And it's delightful. And what's more? It's NOT from Starbucks.

Oy. I just stretched my neck. It felt like there was a great big oaf in the middle of a science lab that just ran up and down the laboratory pulling plugs and spilling chemicals and breaking beakers and generally making things spark and spill and crack and causing such a stink that it makes your head spin. That's what I feel like sometimes. A great big robot that's all full of wires and plugs and glass beakers and little metal trays that they can all sit on, and then one day this great big knot of a monster comes in and messes it all up and then I have to go and pour water all over it to cool down the equipment and pull the plug on the whole thing and reboot.

Regardless, this tea latte is delicious.

I do wish people were more considerate to coffee shop employees.

"Hi there how are you tod--"
"Good CAN I get a LARGE cup of coffee thanks."

Seriously? Your day is SO jam-packed that you can't take three seconds to acknowledge that there is another human being across from you -seriously no more than, sixteen inches away? How about some eye contact and maybe, just maybe, a smile?

You ever think about busy intersections? How many cars there are? I sometimes imagine that all the cars are invisible and then I can just see all the people gathered in one spot at this great big intersection - as if there was a party going on! Trouble is, no one else looks around and notices that there are other people around them - hundreds and hundreds of people! Or like in rush hour on the highway, where it's all a dead parking lot. How much more fun would it be if we could all just roll down our windows and laugh and talk and vent about our days to each other? You know there are some people in this world that go through their entire day without a pleasant word from anyone. And now we get creeped out if someone even makes eye contact with us on the highway. What are they going to do, shoot laserbeams out their eyes and turn your car into a great big fiery mess? No.

I have my Friday free today. I could do anything I wanted today. I can literally do anything I want to do today. Anything.

Which is why, at this moment, I am sipping a caramelized pear tea latte with soy milk.

No words at the moment. I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a slump today.

Mad Men, Whiskey, and Bittersweet "See You Laters"

Greetings. I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long! I do hope you are all feeling well, or if you're not, I hope you go find yourself a great big barrel of hugs and fall into it until you're good and smothered in happy-go-lucky free-and-easy lightness.

To ring in my 21st year on this blue rock I call home, a lovely group of friends gathered for cocktails, appetizers, and karaoke in style. Mad Men style that is. It was thoroughly delightful. And can I just say that everyone looked smashing??? I'll post pictures later. 

My first drink? Mint Julip. Whiskey on the rocks with a sprig of fresh mint? Yes please.

Well, technically my first drink as a 21 year old was a dirty martini, which I drank at approximately 12:04 a.m. yesterday morning. Happy birthday to me!

The party was smashing, the people were gorgeous, the music was infectious, and the conversation delightful.

It was also the last day Geoff Ramler and Dylan Uremovich, two beloved friends of mine, were to be in Arizona. So, at the end of the night, amidst the smiles and laughs brought about by a certain tone-deaf karaoke performer, the gravity of the departure sank in. Tears and hugs and kisses ensued.

It was a bittersweet ending to a perfect birthday.

Break out the lexicons!

I have just been cast as Rosalind in Brelby Theater Company's upcoming production of "As You Like It." So, after bolting out of bed this morning at approximately 5:55 a.m., I scarfed down my breakfast, and packed my re-usable canvas grocery bag from Whole Foods with the Arden Shakespeare, my laptop, charger, notebooks, highlighter, pens, and a pair of pleasantly plump orange and green Shakespeare Lexicons, containing the definition and context of every word of Shakespeare's plays. Every single one.

So, today I have the lovely task of translating my lines. Every single one of them. It's a discipline I learned in my first-ever rehearsal for a Shakespeare play almost 7 years ago. Crikey!

You might recall from a previous post that I had mentioned I hadn't been in a show for over a year. A YEAR. Yes, I've done some film work here and there, but I haven't been on a stage in over a year. And man, am I nervous.

But, as David Mamet would say, the actor's job is to stand up, look the other fellow in the eye, and tell the truth courageously in spite of how nervous/insecure/unprepared/inadequate you feel. That's it. The actor's job is to bring the play to life for the audience. We serve no other purpose. Whether or not I memorize the family tree of my character's extended family and delve deep into the subconscious of my character as a four year old will be absolutely no help whatever to the audience in relating the action of the play. Emotion memory and sense recall techniques are, essentially, pointless.

Being on stage, summoning the courage, in spite of how insecure you are or how you feel about your co-stars, or your costumes, or the restless audience, or the set, those are the challenges we face in real time. To remove our minds from the moment of the play to try and delve into an emotional memory or sensory recall is counter-productive. If you ever do achieve such a moment (which is rare), you become excited that you actually accomplished the task and become even more detached from the moment.


Anywhoo.

I'm gonna get back to my Americano and my beloved lexicons.

toodle-oo.

America, Land of the Free (And the Numb.)

On November 30th, 1947, an essay by renowned American dramatist Tennessee Williams was published in The New York Times Drama Section just 4 days before the premiere of his new play "A Streetcar Named Desire."
In it, he described the months of luxury he experienced after the success of his play "The Glass Menagerie." He stayed in a first-class Manhattan hotel, dined on gourmet food, and lived off of room service. After several months of this continued, he found himself becoming increasingly disenchanted with the things of luxury and well..depressed with the physical world of luxury he found himself in; the 'American plan of Olympus.' Eventually, he found himself becoming indifferent towards people, especially of his close friends.
Williams says,"Conversations all sounded like they had been recorded years ago and were being played back on a turntable." He turned away from his friends, suspecting them of hypocrisy and seeming lack of sincerity and kindliness. He detested and even avoided responding to compliments and flattery on the success of his play and found himself almost entirely bereft of any speck of motivation to write another play. The success had exhausted him.
Sometime after these three months of curious behavior, Williams had eye surgery (his fourth operation, having suffered with a cataract on his left eye for about five years), and it was during his recovery period that he decided to check out of his first-class hotel in Manhattan and leave for Mexico; an 'elemental country where you can quickly forget the false dignities and conceits imposed by success.' It was here that Williams wrote "Streetcar."

I absolutely love this and I hope you'll read what Williams says about the nature of an artist:
"It is only in his work that an artist can find reality and satisfaction, for the actual world is less intense than the world of his invention and consequently his life, without recourse to violent disorder, does not seem very substantial. The right condition for him is that in which his work is not only convenient but unavoidable.
This is an over-simplification. One does not escape that easily from the seductions of an effete way of life. But once you fully apprehend the vacuity of a life without struggle you are equipped with the basic means of salvation. Once you know this is true, that the heart of man, his body and his brain, are forged in a white-hot furnace for the purpose of conflict (the struggle of creation) and that with the conflict removed, the man is a sword cutting daisies, that not privation but luxury is the wolf at the door and that the fangs of this wolf are all the little vanities and conceits and laxities that Success is heir to--why, then with this knowledge you are at least in a position of knowing where danger lies.
You know then, that the public Somebody you are when you "have a name" is a fiction created with mirrors and that the only somebody worth being is the solitary and unseen you that existed from your first breath and which is the sum of your actions and so is constantly in a state of becoming under your own volition.
It is never altogether too late, unless you embrace the Bitch Goddess, as William James called her, with both arms and find in her smothering caresses exactly what the homesick little boy in you always wanted, absolute protection and utter effortlessness.
Security is a kind of death, I think, and it can come to you in a storm of royalty checks by a kidney-shaped pool in Beverly Hills or anywhere at all that is removed from the conditions that made you an artist."

Ok, so I'm just going to state the obvious. We live in a nation that worships the "Bitch Goddess." We LOVE handouts, security, and 'utter effortlessness.' We're raised to have no idea what we want, no idea what we need, and to give our money (and our votes) to anyone that tells us what we want and what we need. Government officials, major corporations and sleazy salesman don't require our minds or original thought, just a few easy payments of $29.95 and we'll live in a life of luxury and ease. It's the American dream, right? Get rich, get a house, drive a nice car, live comfortably. Effortlessly. We buy fast food because it's cheap and convenient, and then turn around and buy a bottle of pills that make losing the weight we gained almost as effortless as the drive to Mcdonalds.
Face it. We're numb, and we like it.
"We are led as easily by the nose as asses are."

But then there's the moment. The moment I'm sure each and every one of us has experienced. The moment where we find ourselves in a place that captivates our attention and awakens each and every one of our senses. You're silent at first, and then you smile. You stand still, and for the first time in a long time, you feel that sensational tingle of joy. Of purpose. You're in a place where you belong, and you're inspired.

I guess what I'm getting at is this. I'm sick of brand names, slogans, jingles and infomercials. I hate People magazine and I can't stand the sight of an eight year old with a Blackberry. The smell of gasoline and the neon lights are giving me a heartache. My eyes sting from looking at a screen for too long, and my eyebrows are in a constant clench because I can't stop thinking about how much I want to wake the souls, hearts, and minds of the young people of America. I honestly believe it's a matter of life or death.

So, in case you were wondering what the point of all this was, (I just re-read what I wrote and could only gather that the conclusion I was attempting to make is that our consumer-istic society is sucking our souls out of our nostrils) it's this: Challenge your mind, exercise your creativity. It's good. You know it is. You have to ask yourself, "What is good for me?" Not "What would be the easiest for me?"


For the artists of this lifetime, here's your answer:

"What is good? The obsessive interest in human affairs, plus a certain amount of compassion and moral conviction, that first made the experience of living something that must be translated into pigment or music or bodily movement or poetry or prose or anything that's dynamic and expressive -- that's what's good for you if you're at all serious in your aims."

Trailer of my latest project!

So, my good friend Fred Paull is a brilliant film-maker. We've known each other since our pre-teenage years and, I am glad to say, have remained good friends. I can confidently say that we will be working together for a very long time. Enjoy the trailer of the upcoming short film: "A Nation Silenced."

p.s. it's windy here in Arizona! I suddenly have an urge to watch the Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, specifically, the episode about "Windsday." TTFN darlings!

p.p.s I think the reason I like reading Ayn Rand so much is because of her incredible descriptions of light. I'm re-reading The Fountainhead and am marking all the sentences where she describes light. For example..
..."he saw beads of melted snow in the fuzz of the glove; they sparkled radiantly once in the light of a car flashing past."
"His shadow rose from under his heels, when he passed a light, and brushed a wall in a long black arc, like the sweep of a windshield wiper."
"He turned his face to the road before him, and he kept his eyes off the mirror which still held, glittering softly, dots of light that moved far away behind him.."
"A white spark of fire flashed like a cold metallic cross in the glass she held, as if it were a lens gathering the diffused radiance of her skin."

My friend Dylan is a very talented writer. Last year he wrote a Halloween ghost story and described how "her earrings glowed in time with every blaze of the cigarette." For some reason, that image just sticks with me. I love it when people can describe things well. I can do this occasionally, but it does take some effort.

Well, I guess I've rambled on far too long.

Until tomorrow (or whenever.)

Notwithstanding Understanding

It is my last closing shift EVER at Starbucks tonight. Rah. Rah. Rah.

I am addicted to Raw Revolution bars. Specifically, the Spirulina and Cashew one. Dee-licious my friends! The new job at Hi-Health is going great - I get to put my expertise on health and wellness to good use. I am already converting the masses into taking Apple Cider Vinegar every day to promote alkalinity. Boo. Yah.

In other news, I did some voice-over work for a short film yesterday. The film is called "Packages From Home" and will be submitted to several Academy-accredited film festivals across the nation. Pretty cool. Also, my last day at Starbucks is the 31st of July. Can you say...Partytime!?! I am currently working about 65 hours a week between my two jobs. I could use a bit of a vacation.

Also, I stumbled across yet ANOTHER amazing vintage/retro/clothing exchange shop in Mesa last night with my sweet friend Rebecca. The evening's purchases consisted of two gorgeous vintage 1950's dresses which I intend to put to good use when I have a Mad-Men themed dinner party. Or for the next time I get asked out on a date. Whichever comes first :)

One of the finest things in this life is having nice smelling sheets. After a long day at Hi-Health, I found myself really wanting to go to sleep that night in a warm, clean bed. So, I came home, stripped off the sheets and my pillowcases, loaded them in the machine, added the organic detergent, organic fabric softener, and 10 drops of essential oil of Eucalyptus, and waited. Patiently. When all was said and done and I pulled those sheets out of the dryer, I found myself in a different world. A world of warm lavender, soft leaves and fresh eucalyptus, and I was lost. It took all that was in me to get up off of the floor where I had wrapped myself into a cocoon of aromatic delight and put the sheets back onto my bed.

It was the best night's sleep ever.

Did you know that the vibration frequency of a cat's purr is the same vibration frequency that our cells make when they are regenerating? So, if you ever feel sick, just keep a cat nearby...

"Beer me that cat, I've got a bruise on my knee."

You Can't Take it With You.

I've been so responsible. How could I allow myself to overdraft in my account? I'm really hangin by a thread until payday. Fortunately, now that I have two jobs, I will make up for that deficit very, very quickly. I'm not worried or stressed about it anymore, although it is slightly perturbing. But, it's only money. I'm not leaving this earth with anything except my soul, anyway.

I do believe, ladies and gents, that I am, well, growing up.

For the first time since, well, 7th grade, I am not being pursued by a man or find myself being interested in a man. It's uh..pretty awesome. My roommate has a lovely boyfriend, and everywhere around me people are getting married or engaged or paired off somehow, and yet I remain still. Completely free. My circumstances and my choices are allowing me to be totally independent. My, it's marvelous.

Sure, I can't help but feel a short twinge of envy every now and then but really, I much prefer my books to any sort of gentlemanly company lately.

I'm healing, I'm growing, I'm learning, I'm moving on, I'm growing up.

I went to bed last night around midnight and woke up around 8:30. I worked on my research, enjoyed a cup of granola and organic yogurt, and got ready for work.I'm working at Hi-Health today from 12:30-9:30. I helped a woman buy a cleanse and some natural herbs for her memory and brain support. I helped a woman yesterday with circulatory disorders, diabetes, and high cholesterol. This job is so rewarding. I'm quitting Starbucks at the end of July. I'm so ready. I love that place and the family that I've made there, but it is time to move on. I can't believe it's been four and a half years.

Somewhere out there, somewhere treading the ground at this very moment, somewhere driving in a car, behind a shop window, in a coffee shop or standing in an elevator, he's there.I hope he likes Shakespeare.

 

A bit of a new beginning.

Hello my name is Ellyn and it's been over a year since I've been in a play....

Wow. Over a year. A YEAR?? This is the longest I've gone without being in a play or some sort of theatrical project since I was in 7th grade. Good gracious. It's amazing, if you're away from something for too long, you begin to doubt if you ever did it at all. I think to myself, "Did I really stand up on that stage and sing Sondheim?? How did I memorize all those lines? How did I not fall flat on my face under those hot lights, wearing that atrociously heavy costume and prancing around in heels on that precarious wooden set?? How did I manage to have that much nerve night after night??"

When I think about it like that, I get real scared. Real scared, ladies and gents. It's time for Ellyn to be in a show. Unfortunately, since I now have two jobs, a new car and I'm living on my own, I don't really have a whole lot of time (or financial wherewithal) to participate in one.

I'm considering taking another year off next year. The idea of failure mildly frightens me, but it's not enough to make me seriously consider ducking my head down and finishing my degree. I'll  never know if I would have failed if I don't try.

That's all for now, folks.


Gettin' a little lonely what with all these marriages and romances going on. Not much, though. I guess, I just, I know that I've felt like I've missed the boat with one guy in particular, but in reality, it just wasn't meant to be. I just haven't met 'the one' yet because he's not done gettin ready for me! And I'm certainly not done gettin ready for him.

As Johnny Bravo would say, "I'm pretty, you're pretty, let's go home and stare at each other."

See ya.

Near The End...

It's nearing the end of the school year. Finally. I've loved many things about the past eight and a half months and not one of them had anything to do with school.

I'm blogging right now for the first time in a while because I'm procrastinating starting my homework/studying for exams. Honestly, I work 32 hours a week and I go to school full-time. By the time I actually have some down time I am NOT motivated to do any sort of homework. I usually get my work done an hour before class starts. I work well under pressure. But I really should start this stuff today. I've got my French oral exam tomorrow, two papers for English due, an extra credit report for Sociology, and a feature story due for my news writing and reporting class. I have to go to work in approximately 3 and a half hours. I have been up for about 3 hours. I have done nothing.

Wrong. I have made a french press. It is delicious.

Also, I have perused the aisles of modcloth.com and vintagetrends.com while listening to She and Him.

Oh! New music!

Within the last two days I have been introduced to these groups and I find them all thoroughly delightful and unique:
-Joe Henry
-The Sunlandic Twins
-Golgo Bordello
-Tom Waits
-Infected Mushroom
-Cocteau Twins

I want to make a film noir set in Phoenix and call it "Desert Heat." I would use Joe Henry for the soundtrack. I've already got the poster visualized. Actually, that's about it. I don't have a story yet. But the poster looks cool in my head!

The Sunlandic Twins have a song called "Death in the Shade of Hue" that's really unique. There's really no structure to the song, and it's just so cooky.

I can't believe I hadn't heard of Golgo Bordello until now. The best way I can describe them is pirate gypsy rock. The lead singer has quite the enviable mustache. Look up "Start Wearing Purple" and "Wonderlust King" on youtube.

TOM WAITS. Where have I been?!? Incredible. Amazing. I spent a good ten minutes trying to come up with a satisfying description of him and his music. So far, I've got: if Heath Ledger's character of the joker was a blues singer on the Mississippi bayou, it'd be Tom Waits. It's vaudeville, it's theatrical, it's haunting, it's Tim Burton, it's Fagin from Oliver Twist, it's a dusty old traveler who sold his soul to the devil for a voice that would make your ears cringe with odd pleasure. That's Tom Waits.

Infected Mushroom and Cocteau Twins are both 'trance' bands recommended to me by my co-worker Cornelia. Pretty cool so far! I'll let you know when I finish the albums.

Welll. My coffee is done and I should probably get started.

I think I'm gonna go blog on Lovely, Happy, Healthy for a bit..Picked up some books yesterday that are awesome! Check ya later.

I could see he was the sort of man a girl would have fallen for.

It was approximately 5:20 pm on a Wednesday. I had an hour to kill before my last class of the day. I gathered my books, newspapers and purse together and wandered over to my favorite hang-out spot: The Phoenix Public Market. After reneging on my subconscious agreement to eat a cous-cous salad, I ordered the vegetarian sandwich and a cup of tomato bisque soup. My favorite single table with the flowers by the window was occupied so I sat at one of the bigger tables by the vegetable stand. Snapping the paper open with one hand and holding a spoonful of still-steaming tomato bisque soup, I noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye approach the table.

He was bent over, with white hair and teeth that, when they were younger and still in their full number, would have been the kind of teeth which, when flashed across a room, would surely cause even the hardest of hearts to soften. He politely inquired if anyone was sitting at the table, and I invited him to join me. He was frail and ragged - I was concerned the plastic-gallon of Arrowhead water he held might snap his wrist. The brown leather wristwatch on his right arm was still loose fastened on the last hole. I can't remember if he wore glasses or not because his eyes spoke for themselves - they were clear and blue, wide and thoughtful. He inquired about the paper next to me, and I told him he was welcome to it but it was from yesterday, to which he replied that 'it's all news to me.'

He asked me if I was a student, and I replied that yes, I was a journalism major. He told me he graduated from ASU 55 years ago, receiving a bachelor's in psychology and communications, and then later returning for his masters, and finally his doctorate in behavioral psychology. I inquired what he did after that, to which he replied "oh just about everything." He'd worked in schools, his own office, written three books, (but, none of them had been published, he said).

He was fascinating. I kept trying to make myself return to reading the newspapers (for my journalism class) but the urge to keep talking and finding out about this extraordinary man was irresistible.

Within a few moments, his friend, a round, sweet-faced woman with a limp and a shock of white hair named Mary Lou joined us at the table. Her warm, puppy brown eyes peeked out above the half-moon spectacles she wore at the tip of her nose. She lovingly set down two salads in front of my doctor friend, and gently prodded him to eat something.

"He was in the ER last week because he was dehydrated but I suspect there's more to it than that. Eat something!"

Ron, for that was his name, gingerly tried two bites of the salad.

"He says I have a strong maternal instinct but I don't think it's that - he just needs to eat more and take care of himself!"

Mary Lou left the table to get a coffee and a scone - and I proceeded to tell Ron how I was always fascinated by psychology and human behavior. I shared with him that I was an actress, and that got us talking about Shakespeare.

Mary Lou returned five minutes later, and gently chided Ron for not eating any more of his salad. But he was done - he told her they could take it home and save it.

Mary Lou told me about her idea to create a sustainable community. She wanted to buy a large property, get 8-12 people together, and create a completely independent, self-sufficient, sustainable community that grew and ate their own food, and used the barter system instead of currency. It was fascinating.

I left them at 6:10, and rushed to my 6:20 journalism class.

I don't know why, but I feel like that was an important moment..Somehow. Someway. I can't be sure. But it was meaningful.

Thankful, Grateful, Excited, Thrilled.

So..whims seem to treat me well. I got the commercial!! We'll be shooting tonight from 10pm-4am. Yes you read that right. Welcome to the wonderful world of film where your body clock will cease to exist and will instead be replaced by a schizophrenic egg timer. But hey, I'm getting paid the equivalent of $383 an hour...I'll have my car in no time! Next up are auditions for GLEE! I'm pretty sure that TV show was created for me. S'rsly.

I promise I'm not a diva. I'm not.

Well, soon enough I'll have the money together for my car - and then I'm getting an agent! I've already sent off headshots/resumes and gotten positive feedback. I've narrowed it down to three. Can't wait to see what happens next!

Re-reading the first few paragraphs of this entry, I've realized I've used a whole lot of exclamation marks. Exclamation points? Which one is it again? I'm so glad I was a journalism major this year and I didn't have to ever worry about using exclamation points/marks... You know..because I wasn't allowed to convey emotion. Real glad.

I'm also real glad I changed my major to theater. I'm going to miss living in downtown, there's a lot of cool little pockets that have grown close to my heart. And I will miss them. But they'll only be a 30-minute light-rail ride away, right? Before I leave next month, I'm going to do a post of downtown and take you guys on a tour of my favorite spots.

I always seem to lose my steam right about here. I feel like it's time I should wrap this entry up, but something tells me that it's not enough. But it's not like I need to keep writing - especially like this - who would want to read this?

Well, I don't have a neat way to tie this up, so I'll just say:

I am so grateful and blessed. I hope today something happens to you that truly delights you and surprises you in a way you wouldn't have expected. :)

Love,

EE

Newsy Wednesd-y

I love Sigur Ros. And I just found out the lead singer, Jonsi, has recorded a new album. You can listen to it here on NPR radio. I have a sneaking suspicion he will soon become my most-favoured artist of the year.

Also, I was inspired by Stella to start a blog on health and wellness and have created: Lovely, Happy, Healthy

I'm a newbie at health blogging, but I am really passionate about being well and living well, so I hope you enjoy it. Ideally, I'd like it to be a collaborative project - I want it to be a simple, inspiring, helpful, encouraging, uplifting, informative and (hopefully) entertaining piece of cyberspace you can visit and contribute to once in a while. The truth is, I'm really trying to get well. I don't have a disease and I'm not sick at the moment, but I have definitely been convicted of my poor eating/nutrition/overall personal health habits and I want to get better. I'm a new blogger, but I can already see how powerful having an online community of readers and friends can be.

Oh, and if you haven't yet checked out Stella's blog supernovahealth - do so! She is candid, honest and open to all kinds of new experiences - and she shares every detail. It's inspiring and I know she has already had an effect on how I take care of myself. Thanks, Stella. :)

Anyway, there's my shameless plug. But honestly, I want this to be, above all, helpful. I created it mostly for myself, but I hope it will be of use to someone else out there.

Where did my panache go?

I spend most of my day during the week sitting down. In class, on the bus, in front of my computer, in the coffee shop, in front of my computer, in front of my computer. I repeat, in front of my computer.

This past Saturday I was invited to be a guest performer at the Herberger Theater's Young Artist Competition. It was the first time I'd been on a stage since June, and the first time I'd been on that particular stage since last March. I selected and memorized my monologue ("Request Stop" by Pinter) the day of the competition. I did not get enough sleep, I completely stressed out about it. I walked out onto that stage, began the monologue, and completely choked. That. Had. Never. Happened. To. Me. Before. I forgot a huge chunk of the monologue, but still managed to make it through. All I can say is thank goodness Pinter loves pauses. Long story short, it probably wasn't as bad as I made it out to be in my own head. I felt, as I walked on stage and started to perform, that I wasn't really there. I felt like I was in a memory, seeing myself on stage. There was a disconnect in my body. I was there physically, but completely absent mentally. It was terrifying. Only, I didn't feel scared. I felt...apathetic. I literally felt that, at any moment, I could stop, jump out into the audience and crowd-surf my way to glory because it was just a dream anyway. It literally felt like I was in a dream.

Talk about scary.

Sir Derek Jacobi actually told me (and I say me meaning myself and 100 other drama students that were in his master class) that every actor will, at some point in their career, have a moment like that. It happened to him on the final performance of a world tour of "Hamlet." It was his 500th performance as the prince of Denmark, and right before "What a piece of work is a man" speech, he completely blanked. He couldn't remember his lines, after 499 performances. He questioned himself and his own abilities to perform. He went onstage and performed the monologue practically from muscle memory. After that performance, he was so completely shell-shocked he took a 3 year sabbatical from theater. It was only after the Royal Shakespeare Company offered him two irresistible parts that he returned to acting.

It's that tiny seed of self-doubt that we plant in ourselves that can completely consume us, override our confidence, and completely suck us dry.

You're up there, under the hot, white lamps, the egg-shaped shadows of two hundred heads barely visible beyond the glare of the spotlight.


I attribute this moment of mental vacuity to lack of preparation, lack of sleep, and lack of mental stimulation. The first two of that list are usually things that don't affect me when it comes to performing. No matter how tired I am, when it comes to performance, I'm always on. Always. And, not to brag, but I memorize things really, really quickly. It took me ten minutes to memorize my monologue. I just psyched myself out.

Over the past eight months I have been at journalism school. And it's been..less than stimulating. I find myself aching to have time to read a good book, to play my guitar, to write a creative story, to sing, to pick apart a new monologue. No such time is to be found, I'm afraid. Whenever I do get a spare couple of hours I usually spend it sleeping, doing homework, or numbing my brain with pointless social networking websites. I think I've actually gotten dumber.

I can't handle it anymore. I'm so glad I changed my major.

Oh, I've got a call-back for a commercial tomorrow! I have to bring 3 outfits I think a domestic housewife would wear. So...suggestions? :)

Now then, what was it I was supposed to do?

What was this going to be about?

I can't remember.

I think these were the main points:

-love
-contentment
-motivation
-imagination
-nutrition

Hmm.. I'll be back.

Well, hello there spring!

Don't you just love this time of year?

*pause for effect.*

I know I do.

It's spring again! And don't you know what that means?

*pause for thought*

It's time to clean! If you have one, grab a feather duster and a fresh bottle of Windex (there's nothing worse than one that's almost empty and dribbles all over your hand while dispensing.)

I find that the coming of spring is almost more motivational for me than the beginning of the new year. It's time for a fresh, clean start.

Man I wish I had some french windows that led into a flowery, green garden.

*pause for reflection.*

Calls me higher.

You know, as much as I love music - I don't listen to it as often as I think I do. When I do, I'm very specific about what I choose to listen to. I have hundreds of CDs, but unless I purposefully think to listen to music, I can go an entire day without hearing a note. I do sing to myself pretty much all the time though, so that's probably why I don't find myself missing it.

Despite the great variety of bands, genres and artists in my iTunes library, I always come back to a select few and listen to them over and over and over. I've never been one to go to concerts just to scream and jump around - I've never been good at band worship and I hope I never will be. If I was into pop music, I might enjoy going to a Beyonce or Lady Gaga concert because they're actual shows. No actual live singing is happening, but they're dancing around and putting on a show.

I like the music I like and I have deep respect for musicians. I find it funny when someone asks me if I've heard about this or that band, and most of the time I haven't, and then they look at me wide-eyed and gasp and say, "What?? I can't believe you've never heard ____! I'm gonna have to introduce you. You're missing out." And then they'll proceed to burn me a CD (or download the mp3s onto my itunes library) and prod me over the next couple of weeks asking if I liked the band. I have nothing against this - but I've discovered there are actually only a handful of genres that I absolutely love: Jazz, Classical, Musical Theater, Choral and Folk. Granted, there are bands in practically every genre of music that I like. Except for rap. I just don't get that. 

But music that calls me to a higher state of thinking, emoting and expression is what I love the most. Take, for example, Eric Whitacre. A choral composer with an incredible imagination and talent for dissonant chords, haunting tunes and inspiring melodies perfectly designed to first pluck, then passionately strum the heartstrings. My heart swells whenever I listen to "I Thank You God for Most This Amazing Day," or "Lux Arumque." More recently, Eric composed a techno-opera musical based on John Milton's "Paradise Lost." The opera, entitled "Paradise Lost: Shadows and Wings" is absolutely riveting. I saw one of the first preview performances of the show in Pasadena, California. I sat in the front row of the 100-seat auditorium with my brother and mother and was more than once, lifted out of my seat with the most heavenly, haunting, powerful sounds my ears have ever heard. The seamless and innovative composition of techno beats, operatic arias and orchestral music literally made me feel as if I was witnessing a supernatural concert. It was that unreal.

So no, I don't listen to bands that are as obscure as the ones my friends listen to, and I generally like to stick with what I know. When it comes to new musicians, I think I (unfairly) make it their responsibility to impress me. I very rarely will listen to a band just to 'give them a shot.' If I hear a song in a movie soundtrack or on the radio that sticks out to me, I'll make it a point to track them down. Because usually, most contemporary music that gets played in the world around me (i.e. in my friends' cars, on the radio, in the shopping mall) is just white noise to me.

Enclosed is a recording of one of many beautiful trios in Eric Whitacre's "Paradise Lost: Shadows and Wings." I hope you listen, and enjoy.

The Corpse Had a Familiar Face - Book Review

Edna Buchanan's semi-autobiographical novel The Corpse Had a Familiar Face delivers a succulent dose of crime, mystery, whimsy and face-to-the-wind, ain't-no-kidding-around-about-it journalistic passion. 
The gripping novel narrated by Buchanan herself details the gruesome, mysterious and poignant events of her 15 years working on the police beat in Miami, Florida. It's an anecdotal work that captivates the reader from the first punchy line of prose:


"It was my day off. But it was murder. Again."

Buchanan narrates the book of memoirs in a voice that clearly indicates her passion for her career. She describes working on the police beat in a no-nonsense, take-it-or-leave-it tone. Her lively descriptions of the killer-brothers both named Terrence Beecham, the 15 year old serial killer, and the handsome Australian psychopath with a fetish for beautiful, young women highlight the bizarre, musty-tinged atmosphere of the Miamian crime scene. 

It is Buchanan's ardent compassion for both the victim and the convicted that indicates her unwavering devotion to her career as a journalist.


"No matter how despicable, the killer always proves to be human, someone you can identify with in some way."

Buchanan proves to be a shining example of objective journalism. In what would seem to be a horrific, demented aberration of a human being, Buchanan finds the humanity - and relates to it. In what would seem to be an 'unimportant murder,' Buchanan finds compassion for everyone - and tells each and every story to the best of her ability.

It is a memorable, personal, and passionate book of memoirs that reveals the courageous, full-throttle, live-life-on-the-edge heart and soul of its most esteemed author.

Notes From Oxford Vol. II

Shakespeare Instructor: James Bundy - Dean of Yale
 
In class one day, our first Shakespeare instructor of the course asked us to write down why we were here. Here's what I wrote:

"I came here to learn, grow, explore, take risks, and become a more honest actress."

One of the biggest things  I learned about working with Shakespeare that I never really connected with before was that Shakespeare's characters are not ironic. Playing irony is much safer, and let's be honest with ourselves here, much easier. Shakespeare's characters say what they mean and mean what they say. All the time. Shakespeare's sonnets are not ironic. There is always something at stake, and to play a speech from an ironic distance would be diminishing the value of the entire work. In my opinion, Shakespeare stands alone in this regard. So much of modern theater is written to be ironic. Characters constantly keep secrets from others and themselves and the audience and play it off with a smile and a chuckle. Shakespeare does no such thing. Shakespeare puts into the mouths of his characters what very few people can actually do in real life: speak honestly all the time.

And you know what I found to be fascinating? I was uncomfortable being so real on stage. It was so new and invigorating I hardly knew what to do with myself. So many modern actors and actresses make fortunes for themselves playing characters from an ironic distance. It's much tougher to speak the words written for your character with absolute conviction and honesty. It's risky, but when it's done right, it's completely and utterly spell-binding.

A few notes on Shakespearean monologues: 

-What is the immediate prior moment?

-Do not treat your first line as a preamble. Every word counts. Thoughts. Ideas. Reactions.

 -Live in the antitheses, where we change our mind, make decisions and comparisons.

-Do not use the last word of the line to prepare for the next line.

 -Mean what you say.

-Make the good lines good and the bad lines bad.

-Say what you mean.

-Less stress, more value.

 -"chicken kiev" the adjective with noun.*

    *we coined this term together in class. To "chicken kiev" the adjective with the noun, is to make the noun more important than the adjective. Ex: "What studied torments tyrant hast for me?" NOT "What studied torments, tyrant hast for me?" It makes the meaning much more comprehensive.

-Don't get intellectual on the pauses. 

 -Be on your voice!*

   *So many of us adopt an affected tone whenever we're on stage; especially with Shakespeare. It's safer, and something inside us tells us it's right. It's not. Everything sounds so much better when you speak in your normal range and tone. 

-Be specific. Play the meaning, not the bigness.

-Find different colors in the speech.

-Don't let go of a word until you mean it.

-Trust your instrument.

-Play to win.

For dramatic monologues:
"Absolute seriousness is never without a dash of humor."

Remember this:
Shakespeare's characters have duality. Let the adjectives sound and the nouns exist. Don't play up the adjectives in preparation for the noun. Change with changes. "I shame to hear thee speak; ah timorous wretch!" 


"People of Shakespeare's plays live full lives and go to bed tired. They are connected to nature, never forget they are animals, and never let anybody else forget they are divine." -Macefield


Voice:
Instructor: Andrew Wade

"How can I know what I think until I hear what I say?" -Oscar Wilde

Antithesis is what we do to make sense of things - comparing one thing to another. The second one is usually more important.

"A picture frame sets a painting into focus; distinguishes it. So the frame of our speech serves as a function - it keeps the idea important."

Prose - logical, persuasive, rational
Verse - emotional, imagery

*Language is active. It provokes the next moment. See the words in your mouth and head as active, having an impact on the world, and using those words to win. 

*Language, however naturalistic is still presented speech.

*To speak words should alter you.

*When language is written, we almost respect it too much.

*The aim is to release not just a literal/intelligent response, but a more imaginative response.

*The release of thought into words should be as exhilarating as a dance.

*The music of language both provokes and comforts.

*Words are a life force, a provocation, the opposite of silence.

*Actors are the guardians of language.

*Actors are made articulate through the language they bring alive. Their care helps the hearers to be articulate.

*Feel the need to break the silences.



Book to read: The Actor and Target - Decklyn Donalyn

Yulu Youwho?

Ok so the local market here in downtown Phoenix just started selling these things called 'yulu beans.' I've found out very little about them on the internet except that they are seeds of the wild papaya (or 'bonete' in Spanish.) They're surprisingly tasty and I've found that just a small handful satisfies my hunger. They're high in protein and taste phenomenal in salads, or mixed in with some hummus on top of freshly baked pita bread! I bought a 6 ounce bag for $5 and I've still got three-quarters of it left after having it for over a week. There's a rather frightening picture of a rattlesnake on the side of the bag, but I didn't let that faze me.

In other news...can I just say I can't wait until this week is over?

I got little to no sleep over the weekend - which is fine - I had an amazing weekend  - but now I am much more inclined to sleep all day than do my work.
Midterms..how you vex me. Working 32 hours a week and going to school full-time was manageable for a little while..now I'm thinking I might just have been a little over-ambitious. I have to read an entire book and write a book report on a book I don't even own but fortunately found an electronic copy of on the internet for my news class, finish about two weeks of French homework, take an online statistics quiz and exam, write a 4-5 page argumentative paper for English and...I think that's it. I have to confess I'm a bit peeved at myself for not getting the book sooner. I've had to put down "Interview with a Vampire" for "The Corpse Had a Familiar Face."

I'm going to look at an apartment on Friday in Tempe. It's really close to the main campus and is only $650 a month! I must confess I do a little dance in my heart whenever I think about getting out of these dreadful dorms.

Spring break is almost here..California roadtrip is almost here....

Well..should probably get to work! Wish me luck...

Tomatoes - More than a healthy snack!

Ok so here's another tip for skin-care that's worked really well for me. Here's what you need:

-One organic tomato
-Sugar (granulated white sugar works best)

Cut off the top of your organic tomato with the vine still attached to the top. This will be your handle. Pour out a small amount of sugar into a dish and rub the tomato in the sugar. Apply to your face in a circular motion. The sugar exfoliates your skin and the natural juices of the tomato are super healthy for your skin!

I do this scrub about once a week - you can do it as many as three to four times a week, but you shouldn't exfoliate every day.

Enjoy :)


-E

Healthy Skin, Healthy Wallet.

So. Skin care products can be obscenely expensive. Make-up remover, masques, lotions, creams and ointments can cost a fortune. Being but a lowly college student, I took it upon myself to explore my options. So, without further ado, let me present to you my miracle, desert-island product:

 

That's right folks. Extra-virgin olive oil. 

I use it as my:
-Make-up remover
-Shaving lotion
-Moisturizer
-Facial Cleanser

It is without a doubt, THE most effective make-up remover I've ever used (especially for the eyes.) It's gentle enough on the delicate skin of your eyes, and it moisturizes your eyelashes too! I've been using EV olive oil as my primary make-up remover for about a year now, and I can honestly tell you NOTHING works better. My eyelashes are fuller and healthier, and my skin feels nourished and moisturized. I keep a little dish of it in my medicine cabinet and use round cotton pads to remove the make-up.

It's great for shaving too (especially the bikini and under-arm areas.) My skin is pretty sensitive, and I always seem to end up with razor-burn no matter how much lotion I use. I used EV oil oil to shave my legs, bikini line and my underarms, and it left literally NO razor-burn. And because it's a natural moisturizer, I didn't have to put on lotion afterwards!

I also use a solid, 100% olive oil soap bar to wash my face. I kid you not, within three days of using it, almost all of my blemishes and redness were gone. I've tried Clearasil, Oil of Olay, Dove, Neutrogena, and even some of those really harsh benzoil peroxide treatments, but nothing has worked as well as olive oil soap. And the best part about it? One bar of soap costs $4 and it lasts me about a month. It's amazing. I can't praise it enough. Once I started using it, I began to rue all the money I spent on countless skin creams, night masks and moisturizers. But hey! I'm older and wiser now right? I get my soap from www.jacobsspring.com

So, not only is Extra-Virgin Olive Oil great for cooking, seasoning and dressing, it is my all-in-one skin-care regimen!

So....Go try it! Stop wasting your money on chemically-enhanced products! Yay!

<3
-E

Notes from Oxford - Vol. I

I stumbled upon one of my notebooks that I took to Oxford with me this summer. For those of you who don't know, I spent the summer in Oxford, England studying with the British American Drama Academy. The program lasted four weeks, with classes in voice, speech, movement, classical and modern theater as well as master classes every week that were taught by guest actors, directors, producers and playwrights. I want to put these notes on my blog so I'll have another record for myself, and for you to enjoy. If you are at all inclined in the theatrical department, I think you might enjoy these notes. I do need to find my journalist's moleskine notebook that contained all my notes from the Sir Derek Jacobi masterclass though..

So, here are my notes.

Things to try to remain active: Butoh, Alexander Technique, Capoeira, Pilates, Yoga. Live in your body. Be active. This will help you on stage with your movements.

Books to read:
Peter Hall - Advice to Players
                   Exposed by the Mask: Form and Language in Drama
John Barton - Playing Shakespeare
David Mamet - True and False

You do not have to feel anything before you learn the words. Learn the words, understand the form, and then decide what you feel. 

Shakespeare uses alliteration, repetition, assonance, etc. to HELP the actor. Always wordplay.

"For Shakespeare, what you need is a warm heart and a cool head."

Inspiration comes from an honest regard for what's on the page.

Tip for breath control: Think of hitting each line like a diver diving straight into the water. Do not expel the breath before you say the line.

On Actions: The Actor's Thesaurus
**You can't play an emotion. Emotions are the result. You play actions. Transitive verbs.


DAVID LEVEAUX MASTER CLASS QUOTES:

 

*David Leveaux is a UK theatre director who has been nominated for 5 Tony Awards. At the time he came to visit us at BADA, he was in the middle of directing the revival of Tom Stoppard's Arcadia on the West End. These are some of the many memorable quotes I was able to jot down during the session. Enjoy!

 

"Failure is a tool. So is boredom. If I know I'm bored, I know something has to change."

"When I'm in this room I'm working. As Actors or people who love chaos, we can't let that permeate our work."

"A rehearsal room is a series of little deaths; humiliations."

"We are all of us trying to do the art of the possible and the impossible."

"You can have a relationship with failure. Never mind the f****ing critic. What about you, and the energy you can bring from it?"

"Tom Stoppard said that 'laughter is the sound of comprehension.'"

"The directorial need to 'sign' a production is nonexistent."

"Great plays are an enduring mystery."

"Life itself is not catchable by concept."

"Catch in the inherently incatchable..and freeze it."

"We the living, have an obligation to stay alive."

David Laveaux on playing Pinter:
-what is the immediate moment?
-don't bring a lot of backstory; it's what's happening in the present tense.
-Pinter's background was in comedy!
-Pinter is vivid, writes facts.
-there are no enigmatic pauses in Pinter. All the pauses are real.

David Laveaux on auditioning:
-listen, be directable
-be open to changes
-auditioners are looking for you, not trying to weed you out.



*Important words in Shakespeare: IF, NOW

PLAY TO READ: Judas Iscariot


Make sure your intention on stage is stronger than the nervous voices in your head.





**David Laveaux

Personal Monthly Budget

Monthly Expenses:

Food: $110.20
Books: $277.38
Entertainment: $117.30
Clothes/Essentials: $91.49
Bills/Debt: $449.24

Total: $1045.61
Estimated Gross Monthly Income: $1200

Next month, I will not be spending any money on books, and my bills will be reduced to $100/month since I paid off my debt.
Breakdown:
$60/month - cell phone
$40/month - Insurance
$appx. 50/month - credit card

So, next month, my expenses should look like this:

Food: $110
Clothes/Essentials: $100
Bills: $150
Entertainment: $100

Total: $460
Estimated Gross Monthly Income: $1200

Savings: $740

Wasn't that rain today just glorious?

I spent the morning sitting in silence in my comfy armchair by the window watching the rain. It was such a delight. Inhale, exhale. Now you begin.


Work was long. And I hate how it takes up my whole day. By the time I get home, I'm too tired to work out and too brain dead to do homework, but I stay awake anyway because I want to feel like I haven't wasted the day. So. Here I am on blogger.

I've joined tweetwhatyoueat.com. I saw an ad for it in Women's Health and thought I'd give it a try. I've never done a food diary before so this should be enlightening.

Well. So long.

Step in Time

Good afternoon, my darlings! I do hope your day is going well. I'll have you know I've procrastinated revising my English paper just for you. Don't you feel special? Aw..... Well. Onto things that are cool.

After French class I took a little walk around the city. Can I just say that I love Arizona weather? Thanks. 'Cos I do. Anyway, I deposited my first paycheck from my second job into my bank account and then mailed my very last check to pay off the loan I took out for my trip this summer. Woohoo debt free! Because I was in such a jolly mood, I decided to treat myself to a new restaurant.

After attaching myself to my iPod and selecting "Step in Time" as my walking song, I wandered down central avenue until I came across Cafe Roma. What caught my eye was the menu taped to the inside of the window advertising breakfast for $2.95. Scarcely after I ordered my food, there was a line almost out the door. Haha! I had vanquished the lunchtime-business-crowd rush. Two minutes later I was ignoring the sting in my fingertips as I munched on my delicious, fresh off the stove English Muffin cheese, egg and sausage sandwich. I knew I should have let it cool down before I ate it, but after the banquet that was the first bite I simply couldn't resist. Needless to say, I've found my new breakfast place. Matt's Big Breakfast will always be #1, but really, you can't beat homemade breakfast for $2.95!

I have to confess, I have mixed feelings about leaving downtown Phoenix. I had resolved myself to transfer to the Herberger College for the Arts next semester, but I've really started to like my life here (aside from school, living in the dorms and never doing anything creative.) I guess, I just wish the Arts college was in downtown. I love the artsy vibe, the dozens of little hole-in-the-wall coffee shops, the local grocery stores, the library, the fact that the Irish and Chinese Cultural Centers are just a short lightrail ride away from my dorm, the fact that the Herberger Theater, Valley Youth Theater and Phoenix Theater are practically on my doorstep, and the fact that it's small and not over-crowded. I am really dreading about going to school in Tempe because the campus is so huge. I really like that all my classes are 100 feet from my dorm building. And, this sounds strange, but not studying theater gives me even more motivation to do things on my own. In a way, I feel more in control of my own education. I like the idea of working on the degree even if it's something I detest, but secretly studying my real passion in private. It's kind of..I don't know. I wish I could describe it. It makes me feel rebellious and in control and out of control and powerful and motivated and inspired. It's almost like I'm treating pursuing my acting dream like pursuing someone who is way out of my league; in that I only want what I can't have and if I do get it, I won't work as hard for it. That may not be exactly right, but it's the best I can describe it for now.

Well, I should pack this up. I've got a bus to catch.

Until we meet again,

Ellyn

William Wordsworth

I

          THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
          The earth, and every common sight,
                    To me did seem
                  Apparelled in celestial light,
          The glory and the freshness of a dream.
          It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
                  Turn wheresoe'er I may,
                    By night or day,
          The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

                                   II

                  The Rainbow comes and goes,
                  And lovely is the Rose,
                  The Moon doth with delight
            Look round her when the heavens are bare,
                  Waters on a starry night
                  Are beautiful and fair;
              The sunshine is a glorious birth;
              But yet I know, where'er I go,
          That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

                                  III

          Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
              And while the young lambs bound
                  As to the tabor's sound,
          To me alone there came a thought of grief:
          A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
                  And I again am strong:
          The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
          No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
          I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
          The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
                  And all the earth is gay;
                      Land and sea
              Give themselves up to jollity,
                  And with the heart of May
              Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
                  Thou Child of Joy,
          Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
                    Shepherd-boy!

                                   IV

          Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
              Ye to each other make; I see
          The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
              My heart is at your festival,
              My head hath its coronal,
          The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
              Oh evil day! if I were sullen
              While Earth herself is adorning,
                  This sweet May-morning,
              And the Children are culling
                  On every side,
              In a thousand valleys far and wide,
              Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
          And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
              I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
              --But there's a Tree, of many, one,
          A single Field which I have looked upon,
          Both of them speak of something that is gone:
              The Pansy at my feet
              Doth the same tale repeat:
          Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
          Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

                                   V

          Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
          The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
              Hath had elsewhere its setting,
                And cometh from afar:
              Not in entire forgetfulness,
              And not in utter nakedness,
          But trailing clouds of glory do we come
              From God, who is our home:
          Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
          Shades of the prison-house begin to close
              Upon the growing Boy,
          But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
              He sees it in his joy;
          The Youth, who daily farther from the east
              Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
              And by the vision splendid
              Is on his way attended;
          At length the Man perceives it die away,
          And fade into the light of common day.

                                   VI

          Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
          Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
          And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
              And no unworthy aim,
              The homely Nurse doth all she can
          To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
              Forget the glories he hath known,
          And that imperial palace whence he came.

                                  VII

          Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
          A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!
          See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
          Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
          With light upon him from his father's eyes!
          See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
          Some fragment from his dream of human life,
          Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
              A wedding or a festival,
              A mourning or a funeral;
                  And this hath now his heart,
              And unto this he frames his song:
                  Then will he fit his tongue
          To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
              But it will not be long
              Ere this be thrown aside,
              And with new joy and pride
          The little Actor cons another part;
          Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
          With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
          That Life brings with her in her equipage;
              As if his whole vocation
              Were endless imitation.

                                  VIII

          Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
              Thy Soul's immensity;
          Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
          Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
          That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
          Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,--
              Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
              On whom those truths do rest,
          Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
          In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
          Thou, over whom thy Immortality
          Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave,
          A Presence which is not to be put by;
          Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
          Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
          Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
          The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
          Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
          Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
          And custom lie upon thee with a weight
          Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

                                   IX

              O joy! that in our embers
              Is something that doth live,
              That nature yet remembers
              What was so fugitive!
          The thought of our past years in me doth breed
          Perpetual benediction: not indeed
          For that which is most worthy to be blest--
          Delight and liberty, the simple creed
          Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
          With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
              Not for these I raise
              The song of thanks and praise;
            But for those obstinate questionings
            Of sense and outward things,
            Fallings from us, vanishings;
            Blank misgivings of a Creature
          Moving about in worlds not realised,
          High instincts before which our mortal Nature
          Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
              But for those first affections,
              Those shadowy recollections,
            Which, be they what they may,
          Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
          Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
            Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
          Our noisy years seem moments in the being
          Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
              To perish never;
          Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
              Nor Man nor Boy,
          Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
          Can utterly abolish or destroy!
              Hence in a season of calm weather
              Though inland far we be,
          Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
              Which brought us hither,
              Can in a moment travel thither,
          And see the Children sport upon the shore,
          And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

                                   X

          Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
              And let the young Lambs bound
              As to the tabor's sound!
          We in thought will join your throng,
              Ye that pipe and ye that play,
              Ye that through your hearts to-day
              Feel the gladness of the May!
          What though the radiance which was once so bright
          Be now for ever taken from my sight,
              Though nothing can bring back the hour
          Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
              We will grieve not, rather find
              Strength in what remains behind;
              In the primal sympathy
              Which having been must ever be;
              In the soothing thoughts that spring
              Out of human suffering;
              In the faith that looks through death,
          In years that bring the philosophic mind.

                                   XI

          And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
          Forebode not any severing of our loves!
          Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
          I only have relinquished one delight
          To live beneath your more habitual sway.
          I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
          Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
          The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
                      Is lovely yet;
          The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
          Do take a sober colouring from an eye
          That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
          Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
          Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
          Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
          To me the meanest flower that blows can give
          Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

Flying By.

So the weeks seem to be. It's already the weekend...AGAIN!

I think Carla Bruni is lovely. Her music especially.


Well. That's it for tonight.

Oh yes: A River Runs Through It is a phenomenal movie.

I caught myself in the middle of doing nothing..and yawned.

Yikes. I have such high expectations for myself sometimes. And then I end up disappointing myself. It's a vicious cycle that I really am trying to break. Life is too short, my friends. I'm 20! I've lived two decades already and what have I got to show for it? Man. Well, at least I got my 20 minutes of sunshine today. Vitamin D feels good.

So I found this great new site: www.tadalists.com

It's an online to-do list basically. You create an account, and then make lists for yourself. I never used to believe in making lists (which is probably why I never got anything done) but I'm finally growing up I guess. How about that?

Can I just tell you that Mary Poppins was absolutely, without-a-doubt, the best show I have EVER seen. And I saw it at Gammage! And I hate seeing shows at Gammage. It feels more like a stadium to me rather than a theater. But man. Let me tell you. I absolutely insist to everyone in the world that they have, have, HAVE to go see Mary Poppins. It was absolutely, magically, supercalifragilisticexpealidociously practically perfect in every way. I'm a big fan of the movie, so I was slightly skeptical about seeing anyone that wasn't Julie Andrews or Dick Van Dyke play the two leads but boy, was I ever delighted! I literally have nothing bad to say about it. Not even constructive criticism. Oh wait, I do have one. I wish it was another hour longer. It was almost a three hour show with intermission but it felt like maybe..20 minutes. Ahhh. So. So. So. Good.

Perhaps my absence from the theater made me just overly excited to see anything on the stage..but..no. It really was that good. Wowww. I am currently listening to the original soundtrack right now. It really is such a delightful story. You know, I think it's one of my favorites. And Julie Andrew's voice just makes my heart melt. I spent about an hour today watching youtube videos of her in My Fair Lady. She is just magical. I want to be like her.

Well darlings, I'm done for now I suppose. Until we meet again.

Yours respectfully,

Ellyn

She says you're a masochist for loving me.

So roll up your sleeves.

I've been listening to a lot of Ingrid Michaelson lately (shout out to Kaylee Jacobsen for introducing me). I really love her music. Every single song is memorable and hummable. I'd like to write songs like that. I do write songs like that, I just don't do them enough.

I've really got to start this English paper...

All right.

OH! I'm going to go see Mary Poppins tomorrow night :) so excited.

Catch back with ya'll then.
Oh..here's a fun picture:

This is Il Capitano.

 

Il Capitano (the Captain) is a masked character from the Commedia dell'Art

The Captain uses bravado and excessive shows of manliness to hide his true cowardly nature.

He convinces people of the following facts, although in reality, he is a coward and, at best, claims the credit for what someone else did.

He is often a foreigner who can maintain the claim only by benefit of the fact that none of the locals know him. He is usually a Spaniard given the fact that for most of the late Renaissance to well into 17th century, Italy was under Spanish domination. He was most likely inspired by the boisterous Iberic caudillos who told tall tales of their exploits either in the American continent or in the wars with France.
Il Capitano often talks at length about made up conquests of both the militaristic and carnal nature in attempts to impress others, but often only ends up impressing himself. He gets easily carried away in his tales and doesn't realise when those around him don't buy his act. He would be the first to run away from any and all battles and he has trouble enough talking to and being around women.
He is also extremely opportunistic and greedy. If hired by Pantalone to protect his daughter from her many suitors, Capitano would set up a bidding war for his services or aid between the suitors and Pantalone while wooing her himself. If he is hired to fight the Turks, he will bluster about fighting them to his last drop of blood, but when the Turks seem to be winning, he will join them. When they are driven off, he will change sides again and boast about his loyalty and bravery. He stands in a high posture with a straight back and most often has one hand in the air and the other hand on his sword or hip.

Thursday

Thursday:

Woke up 8:15 a.m.

Worked until 4:30 p.m.

Watched Hulu until 5:14 p.m.

Got on blogger 5:15 pm.

Commence procrastination..


Also, I auditioned for Romeo and Juliet last night, but I didn't get a callback. Oh well! :)

Well. What Can you do?

I have had a rough week. Notwithstanding my nose's refusal to behave like a healthy nose with its blatant displays of snot and stuffiness (gross I know), I  have had to deal with something really quite taxing. If you remember, I was cast in two student films. One of those, I came to realize I was not particularly comfortable with. So, after much thought and prayer, I had to back out of it.

Now, anyone who knows me knows how much I absolutely HATE going back on my word. Especially when it comes to the arts. I believe that if you say you're going to do something, you do it. No if's, and's or but's. But I came to realize I was a bit too hasty in my initial acceptance of the role and Lord, I will never do that again. I had already gone to the first read-through, met the cast, connected with everyone, it was awesome. I absolutely loved it. Needless to say, it was not an easy decision. I do feel that it was the right thing to do though. I just cringe to think about all the extra work I've caused them. I was in every single scene. I'm absolutely torn up over this. I know that it's not the end of the world, and I just have to take comfort in the fact that I did not compromise my beliefs or values. If I let God lead me in the small things, maybe He'll trust me with the bigger things.

But man, that was hard.

Well, I guess that's about it for now.

A bien tot.

An Evening with Jason Robert Brown

I can’t begin to describe
What kind of a silly sentence is that? Obviously, I’m going to try to describe as best I can what I experienced and that sentence was just a way for me to get my creative juices flowing. And indeed, in order to begin well, one must start with the first thought that comes to mind. Of course I see that I am merely stalling for time. But you know, I relish this time. This mad ceremony of tapping and clicking and clacking on my keyboard without having to worry about my News Reporting & Writing professor breathing down my neck mumbling: “Too many words - too many adjectives - get to the point already! That word is judgmental - Your readers won’t know what that word means - simplify - don’t use four words when you can use one.” etc., etc
So. If you don’t mind (and frankly, I don’t care even if you do mind I’m going to write how I want to anyway. It’s my bloody tumblr!) I intend to carry on in this overly embellished and sometimes superfluous diatribe of words for the duration of this post. That sentence did not make sense. Poor word choice. Poor structure. But I won’t bother to go back and change it because I’m not being graded. I’m really not a very good writer sometimes. So, my apologies.
Oh this is glorious! I have taken up two paragraphs in introduction and you STILL don’t know what the purpose of this post is! HA! Where’s your inverted triangle NOW, Mr. Anglen??
Well. To the point. I had the great privilege to see Jason Robert Brown in concert this past Sunday. I have been a fan of his music for about four years. A good friend of mine introduced me to him during a drive down the SR-51 on a partly-cloudy Arizona afternoon. He popped in a CD called “The Last Five Years” and I sat back in awed silence with this stupid grin plastered across my face that really made my facial muscles hurt after we reached our destination and had to turn off the car. I wouldn’t dare to describe his music as ‘sweeping’ or ‘epic,’ for indeed it is almost entirely written for the piano and each song contains about six or seven minutes of sometimes unhummable, sometimes dissonant, sometimes chaotic, but always expertly arranged melodies. And his lyrics! It came as no surprise when I discovered he studied with Stephen Sondheim.
Anyway, his music has been a big part of my life for the past four years, and when I found out he was coming to Arizona to see the Valley Youth Theater’s opening night production of 13 AND teach a workshop AND give a concert I immediately jumped to the nearest internet connection (that’s sort of a humorous mental image) and ordered my tickets for 13 and the concert (unfortunately I was unable to get off of work the day he was teaching the workshop.)
At approximately 4:30 p.m., a lone piano stood in the center of the stage, illuminated by two blue spotlights as the audience excitedly filed in. I took my seat in the third row from the stage, dead center. If I had a habit of biting my nails whenever I was excited, I would have had nothing left on the tips of my fingers but my cuticles. Fortunately, my only nervous habit is squealing and smiling really really huge and occasionally catching my breath in a gasp just to make sure I’m still alive and breathing. So. I managed to calm down in the last two minutes..but then he came onstage. The whole house erupted in applause and whoops and screams.
He is dreadfully handsome. Of medium height and build, a mop of dark brown hair with the deepest of brooding eyes to match, a politely pronounced bent nose indicative of his heritage, and the chin of a Gershwin. He waves and smiles with closed lips as he crosses to the piano and sits at the bench. He takes a sip from his water bottle, (an Ethos water bottle. I remember being very jealous of whatever Starbucks employee got to talk to him..) and stretches his hands and begins to play a song I’ve never heard before. He certainly set the mood for the remainder of the evening. It was a ballad called “All Things in Time.” It was moving, beautiful, understated and poignant - everything I love about JRB.
He then turned to greet us and was delightfully personable. He seems like the kind of guy you could sit down and have a chat with over coffee about anything at all. As the evening progressed he revealed more of his razor-ship wit and sarcastically dry, sometimes self-deprecating humor which made me love him all the more.
“Five o’ clock is such a weird time to have a concert. I’ll be warmed up by the time we’re done.” He did sound a little bit hoarse during his first song and he realized it, but he only got better and better and better and better.
During one of my favorite songs from Songs for a New World called “She Cries,” he messed up the lyrics in the first chorus and stopped, kept vamping, and turned to the audience and went on a two-minute digression about how he messed up the lyrics and told whoever was secretly videotaping this performance for youtube to please edit out the mistake. He had sung “She sings, well that’s the price you pay” when the words are “she sings, oh, she’s got you now for sure.” A humorous moment that delighted everyone in the audience.
He told us a story about one of his good female friends who begged him to write a song for her upcoming wedding. She begged and begged and begged, and he refused and refused and refused. And finally..”So she kept on asking and I kept on saying no, and she kept on asking and I kept on saying no, and she kept on asking and this is the song I wrote.”
It was absolutely beautiful. I wish I could remember all of the lyrics, and you won’t find it on Google or anywhere else but it was about ‘a long, long road you’re on, but you’re gonna be ok.’ Brown had been married before, and it did not end well, but this song was full of humble and compassionate advice - praising marriage for the grand adventure it is, without sugar-coating anything. It was honest. It was very real.
One of the livelier and more unexpected moments in the show was when, without any introduction, he rocked out on a jazzy riff and began to sing in a very Dean Martin-esque, gameshow host tone about Fabulous Las Vegas. Apparently, it’s the opening number of a new show he’s working on based on the 1993 film starring Nicolas Cage “Honeymoon in Vegas.” It’s unlike anything I’ve ever heard from Brown before and it really sounds like he’s coming into his own. He’s experimenting new with new styles and progressions, and he makes it so FUN. There was one terribly hilarious song called “I Should’ve Got Her Out of the Sun” sung by the character Tommy “Sandwich” (his last name is Focaccia) which starts out as a tragic ballad; an old man lamenting the loss of his love, until you realize she was an avid fake-baker with ‘the skin of an aligator’ and had, (presumably) died from skin cancer. Hilarious, unexpected. Delightful. I can’t wait for the rest of the music.
“This is my last song of the night before my encore.”
Brown busts into “Moving Too Fast” and hits every single note. This man is incredible. For his encore, he played the beautiful song from his solo album, “Someone to Fall Back On.” I’ve been listening to that song every day on my iPod and I have decided I liked it better live. His performance was emotionally charged, he really loves his music. It was an absolute delight and pleasure to share the evening with him and his music. So, all in all, it was one of the most enjoyable and meaningful musical evenings I’ve experienced in a long, long time.
Thanks, JRB. :)
I may not be your biggest fan..But I’m pretty close.