The New Year Hedges In

A re:solution-to keep this blog updated regularly. And make it my journal.

my Art/human/bcurrent- reflection/thoughts- blog/journal. (and find a hardcopy equivalent)

1. answer a.z questions (use below stuff for answers, about artists I look up to)
2. write to farwah
3. get a job

thought number one: the new generation of t.o theatre artists will be black in a large portion. thank god.

Good artists (in t.o for now): d'bi young, adam lazarus, ravi jain, claire calnan, lauren brontman (verbatim theatre), antonio cayonne, adam paolozza

Ones my age I have been happy to know: Owais, Ruta, Alex, Alexis, Jenny, Virgillia, Sophia, Andrew,Kevin, Laura, Colin, Beth, Ana Marija, Shannon, Cassey (Sea) Walker, Rong, Elaine, Sandy ,Iva, Madison, Rain, Ingrid.Cooper?


Time for theatre parts feels good, reading Anne Bogarts blog (as a result?) feels good.


It's still happening.

outside my window (4am writing)

outside my window are scary voices
that seem to want to come in.
as we grow older we think that we outgrow monsters
but we only grow into them, giving them names and personalities
as we get more specific amplifing our fear. because we beleive it to be more true.


outside my window
at 4 in the morning were
thugs,gangstas and every other ugly word we have for people with loud and slightly angry voices.
I've shifted from them at the bus stop and been afraid to meet their glance. these are the acts that someone would have the right to call me racist for. but really my softer self says it is only pantsist. with our fear we feed their anger and their need to show the world their worth. by driving off quickly in cars and maybe being unlucky enough to die. every time I look away instead of looking them, anyone, any person, in the eye and showing them they exist, I've failed. And yet the fear clenches.
tonight I left the window open. what began as paralysis became a conscious choice. I had to convince myself to read the laughter, the noise and the disconcerting loudness as friends talking at night. like I do with my friends. Like I do with mine. said the logic trying to drown out the cramping stomach muscles. It would be much easier for them to stay outside than try to enter. plus they have no interest in my house. or in anyone's. that thought never even crossed their minds, or maybe it did. but not enough to make them enter a casual thought is a far cry from a deed. Eventually that won out as the truth over: this is a bad neighbourhood.there was no interest in my house anyway. though I do understand now why people call the police on voices in a neighbourhood, and why people get arrested for "disturbing the peace". feeling vulnerable and violated when the voices enter believing that the physical being isn't far behind. that the monster we shoved out from under the bed and out the door is back and screaming for vengeance. usually it's only our fear that we are dressing up and naming.

It's probably not praticularly well explained but I guess I railing at the fact that we don't look behind what people portray at why they protray it, we don't see them fully as people because in that split second when fear beckons it is easier to slam the window shut than wait to hear through it.

outside my window (4am writing)

outside my window (4am writing)

4am writing 5am cleaning.

5am finch:

sprinklers making small patches of rain

coyote

almost utter emptiness, with a few early risers with backpacks and eyes still bleary to the day ahead thrown in.

ghosts in the graveyard and the intoxicating smell of flowers.

I now know what my ghosts are like.

they sound like wind but rattle more

to show they are alive.

it is a sweeping gust and it whines a little.

they sweep the sidewalks between the graves make the little leaves patter

I can't really describe it afterall, go out and see it for yourself.

The utter vast emptiness of the parking lot at Promenade

proving to the world it's useless ness

when there are cars there it's harder to see it. but now. it is evident.

all around me grey grey grey.

the small outnumbered patch of trees has vast-ly more use

they do. something.

they breathe. and wave.

the most peaceful passengers on earth.

the empty lot just sits.

but the silence is nice

the expanse is nice

it leaves you bewildered,

as you should be

when bowing down before nature

at the dawn of the day.

(even cars parked on the grass, that would slowly turn to dirt would be better,at least it would have the semblane of being alive, it would at least it would be brown not gray. )

my favourite line from Robert Frost

we work together whether we work together or alone.

poem. The child and the actor are one.

The child is made of one hundred.
The child has a hundred languages
a hundred hands
a hundred thoughts
a hundred ways of thinking
of playing, of speaking.
A hundred, always a hundred
ways of listening
of marveling
of loving
a hundred joys for singing
and understanding
a hundred worlds to discover
a hundred worlds to invent
a hundred worlds to dream.
The child has a hundred languages
(and a hundred hundred hundred more)
but they steal ninety-nine
the school and the culture
separate the head from the body.
They tell the child to think
without hands
to do without head
to listen and not speak
to understand without joy
to love and marvel
only at Easter and Christmas.
They tell the child
to discover the world already there
and of the hundred
they steal ninety-nine.
They tell the child that
work and play
reality and fantasy
science and imagination
sky and earth
reason and dream
are things
that do not belong together.
And thus they tell the child
that the hundred is not there.
The child says:
No way. The hundred is there!

by Loris Malaguzzi

oops I almost forgot or (other people are wonderful)

I almost forgot I had a blog. But then I remembered or rather another blog reminded me. hurrah.
It's 4:05, same time as the writing of the first one. clearly this is my time for sending thoughts out, into the universe. collaborating with people fills me with so much excitement, it is one of the truly wonderful things.
not related to the previous statement: reminds me of myself (by exposing sides of me) (this is also wonderful but seperate from the above. collaboration is both wonderful in its own right and because of this.



current thoughts:

Ken Robinson is a G. (locate/read more materials by him/find his book)

songs: we are all in this together, my little town, jason mraz

Libya (read more Aljazeera, talk to people, find out why canada is not doing anything)
http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/03/20113394537843279.html

tomorrow:acting first, editing after, slides when I get home.


responsibility, organization (making more room for things[mostly non material ones] in my life , getting a job

add a rant/explaination/consideration of sorry

psych/philosophy stuff

love,

t

question

why do quotation marks around "certain" words always seem slightly insulting, sometimes you are actually trying to quote someone else, using a word in the context that they did and therefore since it does not have the usual meaning, and is taken from another person, this word needs quotation marks around it. nothing more, no sarcasm necessarily applied.

p.s quotation marks around certain= not my most stellar comic moment.

Search and destroy, but with you inner most thoughts.

Dealing with insecurity is like firing laser beams at enemy spaceships that stealthily encroach on you trying to takeover. (like in those old school video games.) Watching your worries go up in plumes of fiery smoke, very gratifying.

But you never know where the next one will come from.

not everything needs to be titled

My Room:

A place for big dreams

And small surprises

My hope: May the surprises grow in size. And more flags be ticked off on my flag map of the world.

A blog post.

it is 4:19 in the morning and this does not surprise me. I like this time of...this time between times. It's quiet. And light enough to see the silhouettes of houses. I've been thinking a lot recently, but about the wrong things. not wrong,just not useful. But a friend's blog reminded me of my own persuasions. should thank him for removing my bitterness and polishing my pursuit of the "soul". (always nice to have even unknowing support). Now I just have to figure out a way to tell the friend that. I like sharing thoughts, however imperfectly. (though it seemed pretty perfect at the time of reading). And I like the connections that words have. (was looking up a synonym for conviction,exciting and enticing to see the different meanings: one can be convicted for their convictions with conviction).

(inspire is another great one for that: besides the common definition it also means to take in breath,which seems fitting,especially acting wise)

love