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.