Sorry, no pictures yet.

Looking up from my laptop I see the familiar surroundings of Starbucks that I've come to love and expect...comfy chairs, warm blonde tables, eclectic coffee-related artwork on the wall..and then I look towards the window. A double-decker red bus zooms across my horizon. Behind it, a wrought iron fence encasing a green park with green trees and green plants with yellow flowers. The cars even blink differently here. I'm in London. My first trip to London took place just over 10 years ago. And here I am again. All grown up and living the dream, I guess. And in Starbucks. Don't judge me, I get a discount.

Shiver. Someone was holding the door open and a crisp autumn breeze swept through the building.

The flight here was one of the most pleasant I've ever experienced - even though I was in the middle seat and even though the food was especially unappetizing. I watched Snow White and the Huntsman, was surprised at how much I enjoyed it, (and upon reflection realized that Kristen Stewart had the least amount of lines of any other actor in the movie and that may have been why it was better than I expected) then started to watch Moonrise Kingdom (again) and immediately nodded off (I expected to nod off during this one since I had seen it already and knew that the soundtrack would probably make for some interesting dream music..)

The English countryside is one of my favorite things to see from a plane window, second only to London's skyline. I've flown into Heathrow three or four times now and it is by far my favorite airport (and not just because of Plane Food, Gordon Ramsay's exquisite airport-restaurant triumph.) Due to high aeroplane traffic at all the gates, we de-boarded our plane off a jetway and were directed onto buses which took us to the arrivals terminal, and from there it was a short walk to customs.

While I was standing in line, I picked out which immigration officer I hoped I would get and focused all my mind-forces on it. And it worked! He was extremely polite and friendly and inquired about the instrument in my backpack (a ukulele) and we chatted about it for a little bit while he stamped my visa (eep!) Then it was off to retrieve my luggage - an easy feat. My bags practically followed one right after the other and I was the first one to make it to the exit. Mr. Philip Quenby, my host-dad, greeted me promptly and we proceeded to the car, where we played a life-size game of tetris in order to fit my two suitcases, duffel bag, backpack and carry-on into his red convertible (and we won.)

Onward to the Quenby residence, a charming three story house (the third floor is a recent extension) and to meet the rest of the Quenby clan. I remember Catherine Quenby from when I first lived here - she is just as charming and considerate as I remember. A little while later, I met Naomi and Hannah Quenby.

 Can I just go ahead and say I'm gonna talk to my children in British accents so that grow up with that accent?It is the best thing ever to hear a little voice speaking so properly, so eloquently. They used phrases like, "Very clever indeed" and "An unusual amount of work for one so small."

 Naomi and Hannah are 9 and 7 respectively. They have a deep love for drawing, writing and Star Wars.

...And they have created a unique adaptation of episodes 1-6 in storybook form.

The main characters, Stella and Robert, go on adventures nearly identical to those that happen in the episodes, but in a slightly different universe. The Jedi's have become Umbi's, and there are two types of Umbi's - good and evil. The good ones have rounded ears and the evil ones have pointy ears, but sometimes the evil ones cleverly disguise their ears with a hood or a special powder that dissolves their ears entirely.

Naomi and Hannah have each written and illustrated several books already, and last night they read all of them aloud, doing all the voices and explaining all the pictures. I must say I was incredibly impressed, especially with the lengthy speeder chases and battle scenes. These girls rock.

 After dinner, Hannah, the younger, had to go to bed so Naomi and I stayed up a little bit longer to play music and draw some more (Hannah is making me into an Umbi character, I shall be used as a decoy for Queen Stella, although she has assured me I won't be killed off like the others.) I played my ukulele for a bit, and then Naomi showed me her killer harp skills by playing "twinkle twinkle little star." It was beautiful. I slept deeply and didn't wake up until 9:30 this morning.

 Today's list of accomplishments has included unpacking, showering, and opening an HSBC bank account (hooray!) Tonight is drinks at the Churchill Arms on Kensington High Street with a few LAMDA people.

A lot has changed in London, but one thing has remained the same: the need for a nice pair of warm socks.

Tiny Victories

Scraping the bottom of the ranch dressing dish with a baby carrot stick as if it were a bowl of ice cream and a spoon. My stomach is full of water, vegetable, and who knows what else it is that makes up ranch dressing. In my ears is a new band: Tiny Victories. The name is quite apropros, might I add. I've been accepted into the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art for the MA in Classical Acting for the Professional Theatre. I move September 30th. I have a place to stay. The first payment has been made. I've been fingerprinted. All that's left to do is send off my paperwork to the UK Consulate and buy a new umbrella. England. My heart's ambition. It's happening. It's really happening.

Being a Person.

Do you want to know something I'm learning?

You have to be happy. You can't just react to life. If you're not happy with where you live, what you're wearing, how you're spending your time, what people are in your life on a regular basis, you can change it. You don't just have to take it. Sure, there's a balance. I'm not saying be high maintenance. But, be a little high maintenance. You're a person too, damnit, and you have the right to live your life. I am learning how to be a person that takes up space in the world.

Find what makes you happy. And go get it. Sometimes it's as simple as saying, "No, I can't cover for you today, I have a life outside of work." Sometimes it means putting on your favorite music. Sometimes it means turning off your music. Sometimes it means plugging into the world. Sometimes it means getting unplugged. Whatever the case may be, you have to live the life you want to live.

I am working two jobs in New York City. Neither of them have anything to do with theatre. Sure, it will do for the time being. It pays for the rent. It gives me a little extra breathing room at the end of the month. And sure, I was able to squeeze in a one-night only performance singing a few Broadway tunes down at the Duplex piano bar. But I could be a starving artist right now. I could be sleeping on a couch rather than in on a memory-foam mattress in a three bedroom apartment and I could be auditioning every single day rather than working at a health food store or an art studio. I could be doing things that make me happy rather than doing things that help me get by. Where's the balance?

I have to find my balance. My place in the world. My passion. My joy.

My passion is Shakespeare. Theatre. Writing. Music. Language. Creativity.

So in my free time, I'm reading Thinking Shakespeare by Barry Edelstein and Playing Shakespeare by John Barton and attempting to write short stories and attempting to submit for as many auditions as I possibly can via Backstage.com. I don't have an agent and I'm not in an acting company. I ditched the acting studio I was in because the owner asked me to pay him more money than we had initially agreed on. This city isn't so bad, but it's certainly not a snooze-to-get-by town either. You either get out every day and make life happen, or you will become swallowed up in work, subways, and staying up late on facebook in your bedroom just so your brain can decompress from the chaos of the day.

I'm a good actress. I'm not the best or the brightest star, I may not even be the most courageous or the boldest, but I will work every single day to make myself those things because that is what I want.

It's what I want.

Before there was a train..

Booked my flight to New York. I leave August 4th.

Bought my dress for my sister's wedding. Which is in Geneva.

This is all really happening.

Clean

Spent my day off yesterday cleaning my car, my room, my computer, and my skin. I love days like that. Freshhhh!

And today.. today is new.

Every day starts out clean.

It was a, well, you know..one of those days.

Greetings all, one and small, rich and poor, less and more. Riddle me this: what happens when your dream, the one you've had all your life, the one you've eaten, breathed and slept for 21 years, suddenly becomes not as appealing as it used to be? What happens then? When I think of the chain reaction of events that have taken place because of my undying devotion to this dream, it absolutely makes me shudder. What if..just what if..I've been wrong this whole time?

Wouldn't that be a horror? What a waste, she'd say! To have spent her days slaving away in a dark, dank room, with nothing but a script, a mirror and a stained carpet floor, memorizing words and thoughts and actions, in the hopes that one day she'd be good enough to repeat them in front of an audience that included more than just her own reflection? The odds of ever making it are, well, extraordinarily minute. But then, what is making it, she thinks? Does 'making it' mean that I am able to make a comfortable living for myself and my family doing what I love? Well, yes, she thinks. OR does 'making it' simply mean doing it? Trying it? Giving it everything for just a few more years? Yes, I think it means that too, she agrees.

Very well, then, what comes next? Something that looks a little bit like this, I'd imagine:

A leap of faith. Yes, a leap of faith.

Thursday, Thursday, Thursday.

This past week, I've felt like I've lived in Groundhog day. I wake up around generally the same time every morning, roll out of bed, wash my face, brush my teeth, and get dressed. I eat breakfast, and go to work. Over and over and over. Last night, however, I enjoyed some much needed friendly diversions in the form of a wine tasting at the Phoenix Public Market with two wonderful people. On the way down to the market, the weather was so nice I kept the windows down, whilst singing "Summer in Ohio" from the Last Five Years. As I pulled up to a stop light, a car that also had its windows down and had been listening to 'a super poppin' beat' turned off their music, pulled up next to me, and begin applauding and saying, 'youuu go girl!' I bowed, as only you can bow while sitting in a car, by waving my hands quite foppishly and inclining my head to them.

Part of my resolution was to journal more, specifically on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. However, today is Thursday. As I'm sure you are all well aware. Call me an over-achiever.

I think I might be starting a new blog called "Ellyn in the Apple" when I eventually make my move to NYC. Right now the date is pegged (somewhat precariously) around the end of April, 2011. So. I'll be keeping busy in the meantime. I was recently cast as Mercy Lewis in a production of Salem:1692. You can read past reviews of the show here . I have to say, I'm beyond stoked to begin rehearsals for this production. We'll have 24 shows beginning in March (yipes!) at the Soul Invictus theatre in downtown Phoenix. I'm also going to be performing in a cabaret variety show with Reign Productions in February, not sure the venue on that yet but I'll let you know.

Yep, I'll let you know. Whoever you are. :)

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.