scale for me has to do with humbleness and reality
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Excel.
you have to do the stuff
you have to do the stuff that makes you feel exquisite.
it's ok to both be responsible and feel things,feel bad or sad or depressed or whatever about the stuff that happens.
then say: ok It happened how do i fix it? -otherwise how can you keep passion/lack of cynicism alive?
Apply to schools.
you have to do the stuff
you have to do the stuff that makes you feel exquisite.
it's ok to both be responsible and feel things,feel bad or sad or depressed or whatever about the stuff that happens.
then say: ok It happened how do i fix it? -otherwise how can you keep passion/lack of cynicism alive?
Apply to schools.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
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.
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.
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