the daily procrastinator

2007-03-12T12:18:00.000-07:00

Here I sit and eat my lunch
The lettuce makes a lovely crunch
When on it I snack and munch
Thank God for salad - thanks a bunch!

I'm writing poetry today
It's not like me to be this way
I think my brain has gone astray
This isn't good - it's not okay.

But I'll go home and have a drink
Tune out my mind, try not to think
There I'll sit until I stink
And the sun comes up, all pink.

2007-03-06T13:40:00.000-08:00

On Not Writing

I sit here all day staring at the computer. Why don't I write? Why don't I write? Why don't I write?

Maybe if I write "Why don't I write?" enough times, one day I will write. I wrote this morning, actually. Just not enough.

Why don't I ever like anything I write? Why isn't it good enough for me? Why do I think I have to like what I write? Why do I not just write stuff, put it "out there" and see what happens?

On Winter

Goddam it, it's just March. I'm depressed. We Torontonians sat there all of November, December, and January, waiting for winter to begin. Then in February, it started to get warm, and we thought, "Oh. Guess winter's cancelled this year. Guess they were right about global warming. Guess we'd better do something about it."

Then winter came. It's hard to really get serious about global warming when it's this fucking cold.

On Blogging

I've decided I don't give a shit about trying to be relevant on my blog. Why should I? No-one else does. Weird that all through my childhood I was the only kid I knew who kept a journal. Now everyone in the world keeps a journal, and they make them public too.

2006-12-14T10:55:00.000-08:00

I've been told

... that I haven't updated this thing recently. Which is true. There is a technical reason for this. That is that I don't have internet at my house right now, I only check email during the week when I'm at work, which means if I'm gonna do any writing, it has to be done at work. And I have just not gotten into the habit of writing at work.

The person who told me I hadn't written recently is someone that I had no idea was reading my blog, and he found it through the Monster Theatre website, through which there is a link. So that got me thinking, maybe it's not just my friends who read this thing, maybe there are other people who have enough interest in what I say to continue to check it. Which means - damn, I'd better have something worthwhile to say here.

I know that this thing is partly just a way for me to keep the people I love but never see posted on my life without having to send mass emails which are problematic (see my post on mass emails below). But it hasn't been a very in depth account of my life, and it also hasn't been serving the wider purpose for which it was intended, ie, to be a place where I could expound upon the things that are in my head and see if anyone else is interested. Since obviously more people are interested than I originally thought, I am forced to reconsider what I do with this space.

Blogs are so commonplace that we don't think of them as holding much power. And in the global sense, they probably don't. As one individual writing one post, I have as much significance as one bee pollinating one flower. But when you think of all the bees pollinating all the flowers all over the world, they make a huge impact. And then there's that one bees' individual relationship with that one flower. To that flower, he is important. To the people who take the time to read what I write, if they have read this far down, what I say must have some relevance.

This is what happens when I start freely expounding on the things in my head. If anyone actually has read this far down, you're a more patient person than I. I promise future postings will be much less self-concious, it's just that the conversation I had last night really got me thinking about what it is that I'm doing here. Just cause anyone with access to the internet can have a blog and tell the world what they think, doesn't mean that one person's blog can't have weight and power.

2006-11-07T13:10:00.000-08:00

Ba baaaa! This is the sound of settling!

For those of you unfamiliar with that lyric, it is in fact a lyric and not a sheep noise. It's from a song called, you guessed it - The Sound of Settling, and it accurately describes what I'm doing in Toronto these days.

Most of the stuff that I am having shipped from Calgary has arrived, which means it now looks like I actuallylive here - hooray. I have a stereo and books and a bathrobe and my own pillow - mmmm.

I have a job - yes, I have finally taken the plunge and gotten a job doing what most people do all day - nothing. Yes! I am now a receptionist! Aughhhhhhh!!!! It's really an adjustment, getting used to the idea that I know what I will be doing from Monday to Friday afternoons for the indefinite future. I haven't experienced this feeling since I was in school. But hey - I have a job that pays money. This is a good thing, in Toronto.

I also (almost) have an agent, which is an even better thing for an actor in Toronto. I'm meeting with one other person and then I think I'm gonna sign with BRB, which is a large and reputable agency and they're really nice there.

I enjoy walking in this city, and I enjoy the fact that there is always something to do. Of course, that means that there is also always something to spend money on, but I'm sure I'll get used to that and someday soon will stop dropping obscene amounts of cash on anything that plays music, makes you laugh, or gets you drunk.

For those of you who read this thing, I'm sorry I've been so bad about updates, but I'm sure I will get better now that I get paid to sit on my ass for 4 hours a day. Oh, and answer phones. Yes.

2006-10-04T11:39:00.000-07:00

Home in Toronto!

Moved into the Ranch in Toronto. Vacuumed the stairs leading up to our apartment today, which were disgusting. I know there are a lot higher priorities, but I couldn't keep walking up those stairs past huge wads of hair every time I came home. So gross. Hired professional cleaners who came yesterday. The guy was wearing his grumpypants, muttering about not being used to opium dens and how could anyone live like this. Until I put on Ryan's Blues Mix for him. Then he started humming along, exlaiming at every new song, informing me of the artist and the date the track was recorded and when the singer had died and how. Then he said, "Anytime you need a cleaner again, call me." So, that was good. Anything to keep the guy happy.

2006-09-20T16:47:00.000-07:00

My Crazy Life

Get this: I flew to Calgary from Vancouver on Monday. I fly back to Vancouver tomorrow, to do Jesus Christ: The Lost Years three more times. (Pick of the Fringe!! Held over!!) Then I fly back to Calgary on Sunday, pack up my stuff, then fly to Toronto Monday morning. I have a meeting Monday night for this project at CanStage that I got into. I'll explain what the hell it is when I know myself. Then on Wednesday I drive to Manitoulin Island to spend four days coming up with some clowny magic at my clown mentor's farm. Then back to Toronto on Oct. 2, then... I'll be looking for a job!! Woohoo!!!

It's ridiculous, but I'm glad to be so busy. I'm freakin' thrilled about moving to Toronto. I can't wait, I miss it so much. More later.

2006-08-02T22:28:00.000-07:00

Oh My God, what have I been up to??!!???!!

What haven't I been up to? Blogging, that's what. I have spent the last two months in places where, if I had email access, it was for moments at a time, in between other people's lives and my insane schedule. I love that about my life though - it's either deadly quiet and slow, or action-packed and intense. I never half-live.

I'm currently on a brief break from the madness that is the Canadian Fringe Festival circuit. Finished playing JESUS CHRIST: The Lost Years to audiences in Toronto and Winnipeg. Reactions range from wildly enthusiastic to moderately appreciative. No-one has picketed our theatre or thrown eggs at us (so far). Perhaps the DaVinci Code has jaded everyone already. What's one more blasphemous little show after a huge blockbuster?

Now I'm back at my parent's home in Calgary, enjoying creature comforts again (like I was roughing it in Winnipeg), and resting up for the next leg of the tour - ie. Calgary, Edmonton and Vancouver. I am thanking the Lord (ie. Ryan Gladstone of Monster Theatre), that we didn't do the Saskatoon Fringe, so we could have this little vacation in between bouts of Fringey Madness.

If anyone's reading this in the Western region and wants to see a kick-ass show, check out www.monstertheatre.com for showtimes in your area. I play Jesus, Mary, Mary Magdalene, John the Baptist, Hindu goddess Kali, etc etc etc. It's fun.

2006-05-30T14:55:00.000-07:00

How I Learned To Drive

Well, how I'm learning to drive. Answer: With a very very good teacher. My friend Anita is teaching me, and she is so calm, and she wants me to be safe, and she doesn't make me do anything too scary.

I drove for like, an hour today! It was unbelievable! I drove in the country and I drove in the city. I drove on Country Hills Blvd. and it wasn't even that scary. I made some left turns. I changed some lanes. I shoulder checked. I remembered to signal. It was freakin amazing. I never thought I would be able to do this. I can't believe what I am capable of.

This was only my second lesson, but it went sooo much better than my first. I mean, my first didn't go badly, but I was mostly only driving in a parking lot. My second I'm out on all these busy roads, and I wasn't panicking. And you know why? Cause I did a Shakespearean warmup, I warmed up my breath and my voice, and I was a hundred times more relaxed. Is there anything that vocal training can't help you with? Everything, everything in life starts with breath. It's all about breath. It's the first thing and the last thing we do, and it's everything in between. I'm gonna warm up my breath every time I drive, at least until I get used to it.

Thank you, David Smukler. Thank you, National Voice Intensive. Thank you, Anita.

2006-05-28T20:31:00.000-07:00

Mass emails

Okay, I just gotta say something about this. What's the deal with everyone apologizing for mass emails? I'm in theatre. I get a lot of mass emails about shows people are in, CD release parties, poetry readings, things online people have done...

And every single one of them says, "Sorry for the mass email..."

You know what? I'm not sorry. It's the way word is spread these days. It's the way to get your stuff out there. And what's the problem with mass emails, anyway? It's not like I get these things and go, "What??!? The person that I've barely spoken to for three years isn't sending me a special, personal email to tell me about their art gallery opening?? I'm so offended."

Email is advertising. And if it's from a friend, or even an aquaintance, goddam I want to know about it. I enjoy reading people's news and updates, and you know what? If I don't, I can... brace yourself for this... NOT READ THEM. I can delete them. Whoooooaaa!

Part of the reason I started this blog is that I like people to have the option of getting to see another side of me. The side that's not intimidated by crowds and conversation, the side that calmly sits, and thinks, and writes. The last time I sent mass emails, I was travelling in Europe, and I didn't have a blog yet. So I sent a blog-like post every now and then. Not a lot. I was gone for four months, I think I sent maybe, maybe 6 emails.

And one person, who shall remain nameless, actually wrote me and said, "Could you please stop sending me these." I haven't spoken to that person since. I don't understand the logic. If what I have to say is of so little interest to you, send it to your junk mail. Or, you don't even have to do that. Delete it, sight unseen. I don't care! It's not going to hurt my feelings if you don't read my emails. But what is the point, in this day and age, of getting upset about mass emails? I don't understand people who think that way, and I don't understand why everyone's apologizing for every "impersonal" message they send. At least we're in touch. At least I know what people are up to. I like that. I wouldn't ever want it to stop.

2006-05-28T10:50:00.000-07:00

SFU OD

I feel kinda barfy today. I'm forcing myself to have a smoothie because I can't imagine eating something like eggs, or anything substantial. If it's possible to overdose on a TV show, I did it last night.

I never realized it was possible to connect so much with characters on a TV show. This kind of TV wasn't around when I was growing up. Buck Shot was around.

I didn't sleep last night. At least, not until around 5 am. And I woke up to a discussion on the CBC about donating organs and tissues to science. That was followed by Bob Dylan's I shall be released. It's been a very cosmic 24 hours.

2006-05-27T21:24:00.000-07:00

Six Feet Under

I finally made it to the end of season 5.

I knew it would destroy me before the end.

God damn. That show never let up, not once. Okay, once. There was that one stupid paintball scene with Keith and David, and that's the only time that show ever lost me. I thought it was gonna go downhill then, but it picked up again. It's a near perfect piece of art. On television. Go figure.

Next I have to rent Angels in America.

Yeah, that's what I'll do. I just cry every night for a week and then I'll go.

I want to talk about that show more, but I will never spoil it for anyone like the Globe and Mail did for me. All I can say is, WATCH IT. It will change your life.

No, there must be more I can say without giving anything away. That show became a parallel for my life for a while. You know there are those albums or books that come out exactly when you're ready to receive them, and you listen to the music or you read the words, and they allow you to see something about your life that you were just waiting to discover, but you didn't have the means? That's what that TV show did to me. It came along and I knew and identified with, not just one or two of the characters, but every one. It showed me that we are all struggling together with the same thing and that's that we're all going to die. We're all going to watch people die, we're all going to experience sorrows beyond comprehension. But that doesn't mean that we don't have to go on living, and go on dealing, and go on loving people.

These are things that I always knew, technically, to be true. But that show made me realize them in my core. It allowed me to find parallels, inside myself, to my own family and my own story, and it illuminated those relationships and experiences in a new light that I had not fully appreciated before.

I have lived through the deaths of my grandparents, and that's as close to death as I have come. Sure, they were hard for me, they still are. But for me they were more an experience of being there for my mother. I mean, that is the essential meat of what I remember of those times. And to try to understand grief, from the outside like that, is frustrating and well, kind of impossible. We only know from being inside of it. Six Feet Under helped to give me an understanding of how that pain transforms a person. So that I think I can recognize that transformative power, that grace, even if I have not felt it myself.

And that's just how it influenced me psychologically. Creatively, it was just one of the most thoughtful, well-crafted pieces of art I've ever witnessed. And it came around just as I was launching my own artistic journey. And Claire, the youngest child, the character who, let's face it, I have the most in common with, was an artist. So the show brought up all these questions that a young artist faces and it dealt with them all in an honest, no bullshit way.

That's why Six Feet Under was amazing. Because it managed to talk about and deal with life, death, art, all of the subjects that are taboo for a hit TV series... it acknowleged and celebrated life and all of its questions in a way that never became maudlin, and it never became melodrama, and it never took itself too seriously. It was just... true.

R.I.P. S.F.U.

2006-05-22T14:12:00.000-07:00

There, it's done

Now doesn't that feel better?

I've picked both my pieces, spoken them aloud, I love them both, I love doing them, I love the different feelings that I get from saying each one, I'm confident that the feelings are different enough to be considered "contrasting" - that word has been the bane of my existence until now - and it's done. IT'S DONE!

Now I still have a shitload of work to do, but... I got up and did it. The Libran has made a decision! Oh frabjous day! Calloo, callay!!

I can't think about whether they're the "strongest choices" I could have made. They're pieces that I love and feel connected to. What more could anyone ask? I have to quiet that little voice that keeps saying, "Probably still won't get in." Well, it's true, the odds are against me. But goddam it they've had me back 5 years now. You'd think they'd get rid of me if they weren't interested.

And I get to audition in Toronto, on the Elgin stage!! It's a 1500 seat venue and it's beautiful. If that's not inspiring, I don't know what is.

2006-05-22T09:53:00.000-07:00

Looking for love... in all the right places

It's time to work. It's time to stop worrying about my Stratford audition and work on my pieces. So why am I sitting here, checking and re-checking my email, reading other people's blogs, writing in my journal of procrastination?

I suppose it's fear. Fear of getting down to work. What is so frightening about work? I guess it's my ego. If I start to work, I will start to realize how much more work I have to do, and then I will start to feel like no amount of work will be enough. At least, that's how I feel about work before I start to do it. But when I do it, I have a good time. I love it. It doesn't matter how much there is to do when I'm actually doing it. It's only when I'm putting off the work that it feels overwhelming.

I'm hoping for an email from somebody, anybody, saying "You can do it. You're great!" But nobody even knows what I'm working on, so why would they email me? Nobody knows that I'm feeling insecure and afraid. That I'm auditioning for Stratford for the fourth or fifth time, and that this time feels like "it's now or never." I think, in the past, I auditioned just for the sake of auditioning. I never really believed I had a chance of actually getting accepted. But this time...

I don't know, it's not that I feel any different from before. I still feel the enormous odds against me. But I look back at pieces I've done in the past, and think how woefully underprepared they were. How lack of life experience prevented me from experiencing them fully. And I think, this time I know how to prepare. I acknowledge the imaginary life I have always been in touch with - maybe a little too in touch. As a child, my whole world was imaginary. Everyone real around me became part of my inner life as soon as I was alone. I think I'm only starting to be far enough away from my childhood to realize what a rare gift that imaginary life was. As a teenager and young adult, all I could see was how weird it was. When everybody else grew up watching TV shows and movies and playing video games, I made up stupid scenarios alone in my room, and recorded myself, talking to and voicing all the other characters in my "dramas". Now I think, "HELLO!!?" Is it any wonder I have a drive and talent for acting now? I've been doing it my whole life.

But the fear that crept in there in my adolescence is hard to get past. The belief that an imaginary life is a bad or weird thing, that I should have had more real friends and done more "real people" things like going to movies and Chucky Cheese and Calaway Park, that stays with me now, when what I most need is to embrace that odd past and use it, relive it even. Why did it come so naturally to me then to talk to people that weren't there, to make up scenarios that didn't exist - and why am I so afraid of doing it now? There's no-one listening. I'm alone at home.

But I take it as a good sign that I can even ask myself these questions. The new Flaming Lips album, which I've barely gone a day without listening to since it came out a month and a half ago, has a song that goes, "She's starting to live her life from the inside out. The sound of failure calls her name. She's decided to hear it out." The first lyric is how I feel about the work I'm doing now. The second lyric may sound defeatist to some. But my friend Rebecca whose blog is called "Adventure in Fear and Failure" - she would understand this lyric. Too bad she didn't make it through the whole Lips concert we saw in Toronto. They didn't play that song anyway. And any improvisors, at least the ones trained by Keith Johnstone, will understand that failure is a good thing. It was my failure to get into Stratford in the past that brought me to this point now. What will I make of it? How will I use it to take my next step forward?

The answer to these questions will only revealed when I get off this computer, get on the floor, feel the boards with my bare feet, feel the impulse that swells up inside me, and speak. Oh, and breathe. I always forget that one.

I guess the thing that's daunting about it all, is that, as a kid the imaginary life came easily to me. As I get older, it gets harder and harder to access. And it gets more and more technical, the process I have to go through to find the same state of being that, as a kid, I just inhabited all the time. So the solution is to embrace the technicalities, embrace the work, because it's the only way to stay connected to that feeling of being ten years old and being able to do anything.

What does the title of this post mean? It means when I get up from this computer, I will stop looking for reassurance and sympathy and love from the outside, from friends, from mentors, who are not in my world right now, and over whom I have no control. I will look inside myself to find the thing that will propel me forward into the unknown. That's love.

I will look at the quotation, framed on the wall of my parent's house, that says,

"The love you liberate in your work is the only love you keep."

Ahhh. I feel better.

2006-05-07T11:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I have to take back my last post. The nice assistant manager of my local branch reimbursed me for all the money that was taken, even though the fraud department had no solid evidence of skimming. So essentially, they are taking my word for it that I didn't get a friend to withdraw $2000 from my account, just to screw them over. Cause you know, $2000 is a lot of money to the Bank of Montreal. If everyone skimmed $2000 off their account, the bank would only have about a gazillion dollars surplus at the end of the fiscal year.

But I shouldn't keep taking the piss, the big bad bank actually cared about a small, insignificant customer like me, and gave me my money back. So thanks, BMO. Thanks for caring about the little guy.

Now I will have enough money to fund the 2006 Monster theatre road trip, from Vancouver to Toronto. My hard earned Trickster dollars will go towards gas, food, moustaches, and any other incidentals that come up as Monster Ryan and I trek across this great nation of ours, speculating on the possible life of Jesus between the ages of 17 and 30. No doubt we will encounter some characters with opinions of their own.

Next week I am in a junior high school, helping the kids to create a show about respect. I sometimes wish I could get a little bit more respect for this job that I do. The teachers and parents who see the process and the end result have, I believe, some respect for what I do. They recognize the difficulty of getting 30 kids to do anything as a group, let alone something worth watching. But the people in the "real" theatre community will never quite understand. Even the sympathetic ones. If they think of Trickster, they think of lame school plays about respect, and they don't see, during the day on Wednesday, the kid who turns from class misfit into King of Respectland, or whatever, and the expression that spreads across his face when he realizes that he's actually good at something. People that don't appreciate that aspect of my job will be stunned in 10 years when they get beaten out of a gig by a 20 year old whose life changed when this wacky theatre group came to his school in Grade 6.

This post is all over the place. But then, so is my brain. Soon Trickster will be over. My brain will go back to normal. Whatever that is.

2006-04-28T13:29:00.000-07:00

I hate the bank I hate the bank I hate the bank...

I don't understand what's going on in this world, when a bank that makes billions of dollars in profits every year can't reimburse an actor, who makes about $10 000 a year, the $2000 that was stolen from her account.

What's the big fucking deal? To them, it's a measly 2 grand. To me, it's 1/5 of my yearly income. It's the difference between being able to pay rent and being fucked up the ass. It's the difference between having a semi-decent low-income existance and getting fucked up the ass, screwed into the dust, while dancing bank trolls gleefully sing the Happy Bank Song about a girl who gets FUCKED UP THE ASS!

The CEO of the Bank of Montreal could probably hand me $2000 cash OUT OF HIS POCKET right now. He probably blows that much on one business lunch. Me, it means I can't go see a dance show I really want to see. I can't pay rent in Toronto for a couple months. I can't throw $1000 at my friend's theatre company so that we can tour on the Fringe this summer.

Well, I guess that's not quite true. I'll hopefully find a way to do all these things. I am lucky to have a roof over my head, rent-free for now, to have a well paying job that will help me get through this, and to have parents who will take pity on me and maybe even help me out a little. A little more. Than they already have, which is a fuck of a lot. I am wayyyy better off than a lot of people in this world. I count my blessings every day. Or at least I try to.

But that doesn't change the fact that I GOT SCREWED OUT OF TWO GRAND and the fucking bank is trying to tell me I'm somehow responsible. And I guess they're right. I didn't protect my PIN well enough. Lesson learned. Thank fucking Christ they didn't take more. But TWO GRAND. I could have gone to Europe for two months. I could have gone to Thailand for two YEARS. I could have put it into my RRSP. I could have started a fund for a down payment on my first house. I could have blown it all on beer, which is probably what I would have done. But still, it was MY MONEY!!!

I HATE THE BANK AND THEIR FUCKING BANK TROLLS, THANKS FOR FUCKING ME UP THE ASS, YOU FUCKING FUCKERS!! FUCK!!!

2006-04-26T14:09:00.000-07:00

Thank You, Jacques d'Amboise

I just re-watched a documentary that my parents taped for me about 20 years ago. It's about Jacques d'Amboise and his National Dance Institute, a program that goes into schools and teaches dance to kids, ending with huge spectacular shows, involving thousands of kids, that he calls "The Event of the Year."

It's basically Trickster - an artist in residency program that I do - but all dance instead of theatre, and, if it's possible, on an even bigger scale. When I was a kid I used to love to watch that documentary, I watched it over and over. I never wanted to be a teacher, I wasn't interested in that side of it. I was interested in the experience of the kids, who were so like me. I took part in big dance shows as a kid, and I remember the experience of being a part of that group, of feeling the theatre fill with the energy of a hundred other kids, and the energy of the parents who want to see their kids be amazing (and are never disappointed).

At the beginning of a Trickster week, when I may be leading, and coordinating all the logistics for the week, plus being responsible for liaising with the parent volunteers, and coordinating my team to set up all the equipment, I barely have brain capacity to devote to the running of my three or more workshops. And yet that's what it's supposed to all be about. It makes the beginning of weeks so stressful for me, and makes me question whether I'm in the right profession.

But by Thursday, when it starts to come together, and you feel that magic in the air, as the kids start to take the ball and run with it, take the responsibility away from us, and take it on themselves. As they start to know what's about to happen and they start to feel that same magic I felt as a kid, which made me go into the arts, that's when the job seems worth it to me. I remember even as a very young child being moved by the moments in that documentary where it's almost show time, and Jacques is going around giving last minute words of wisdom to all his thousands of kids, and he tells them to have fun out there. Those are the moments that make the job a privilege and a joy. It's so easy to forget those in the stress of early mornings, late nights, pressure to make everyone happy, and my own exhaustion. But I hope, when I plunge back into school next week, I can take a little of that boundless energy of Jacques, a little of the joy and the selflessness, and remember what it was like when I first heard him say "You cannot fail if you've done your best." It sounds corny, because I've heard it so many times, but I always forget that it may be the first time a child has heard it. And here's Jacques, who's built a life and a legacy out of that one idea. And enriched the lives of millions of children in the process.

I am privileged to do what I do. It's not easy, and it's not even always fun. But in the words of one of Jacques' kids, "It always leads to fun."

2006-04-25T12:53:00.000-07:00

It's Over

Well, I guess I learned the lesson that it's not enough to just have love. You have to have enough love to make your product good. The experience of performing at a wedding (especially a 4 hour wedding), was one of my more difficult moments onstage. I think it went okay, I think some of it was good, but I know it could have been a lot better. But then, it seemed to me that everybody kind of felt like that. I talked to people who gave speeches and said, "I shouldn't have said this," or "I should have done that". I guess in a situation like that, when there are so many emotions flying around and so much pressure to do or say something that's both meaningful and entertaining, a lot of us will never feel like we got it quite right. We can't possibly express everything we mean to. The people who did that the best last night were the ones who couldn't make it through their speeches without crying. Tears say more than any amount of words. But even the people who cried were probably embarassed about crying. You can't win at a wedding. Unless you're the bride. Or groom. But then they are so exhausted, emotionally, physically, they can't really enjoy the experience. At least that's my perception. I was so freakin' tired, I can't imagine the experience of going through the emotional rollercoaster, performing an ancient rite that will change your lives forever, and then sitting on uncomfortable chairs and trying to watch a show. My mind would not be on what I was seeing. It'd be going, "What just happened tonight? What was that?" Then it'd be going, "Sleep. Let me sleeeeep." Not the best state of mind to see a wacky show, even if it's in your honour.

I don't know. Weddings are weird. It was good, don't get me wrong. I liked all the speeches, and all the performances. But there was an odd balance of ritual and theatre, and nobody I think was really certain which side of the line they should be on. If that makes sense.

But you know what? It was not boring. I'd rather be at that wedding any time than at one where solemnity and ceremony rule the day, and everything is done by the rule book. That wedding was honest and true and real, and all of us breathed through it together, the good, the bad, the awkward, the beautiful, the joy and the sorrow. If that's not the way to send two people into their marriage, I don't know what is.

May we all be the guardians of the truth for Bruce and Rebecca for all time. And may they do the same for each other.

K

2006-04-24T00:36:00.000-07:00

Pre-Wedding Jitters (of a guest)

It's 1:30 am. I should be resting up for tomorrow, or at least learning my lines for Bruce and Rebecca's wedding show. Lindsey and I are performing a scene from Twelfth Night - the play, according to Jamie, they were doing when they started dating... or just before they starting dating... not too sure. Anyway, even if the play had nothing to do with them, the scene is pretty perfect for their wedding. It's between Viola and Feste, the Clown - guess which one Bruce played. There's all kinds of great lines in there, like "she will keep no fool, sir, till she be married." Hah? Hah?

We have to try and do it "in clown" cause that's what everyone thinks we're doing at this thing. We're the clown portion of the show. I'm totally nervous about it. We're doing clown versions of them - I'm playing Bruce, Lindsey's Rebecca. I have to get a mustache tomorrow. Talk about last minute. But then, Rebecca wrote that she hadn't even written her vows as of yesterday, so I guess I'm not doing too badly. I guess the thing to remember is that it's not about me, it's a show for them. But that makes me wonder, if it's enough about them? I hope so. What type of material is appropriate for a wedding show? I've only ever been to regular weddings.

Anyway, I was reading Rebecca's blog, which inspired me a lot. I'm amazed by her ability to write about anything and everything that's on her mind, and then send it out there - judging by some of the comments she gets, a lot of people that read her blog have never even met her - and yet they read about her life and take their own ideas and thoughts away - like I'm doing right now.

I've never known Rebecca very well, I'm more from the Bruce clan, so it's interesting on the eve of their wedding to find out so much about the woman I've always thought was smart, strong and talented, but known very little else of her. I've always been in awe of Bruce's wisdom and bravery, and now I'm really in awe of both of them. They are two incredible people and they deserve each other.

Why am I writing this? I won't be speaking at the wedding tomorrow, I will be expressing my love to them through Shakespeare's words, not my own. I will be attempting, once again, to use my chosen art form to try and convey something beyond what I could ever define in a mere speech. But this time the stakes are so much higher. There will be no critics in the audience, no-one from an awards nominating committee... it doesn't matter whether my work is "good". All that is required of me, or of any of us performing tomorrow, is that our work be generated through the purest of motives - love. If we succeed at love tomorrow, we will have done all we can.

Happy Day, B & R.

Love, Kate

2006-03-13T10:30:00.000-08:00

God, I thought I was so witty - The Daily Procrastinator. There are at least 12 other blogs at this host ALONE with that title. So there, Kate. You're not the only one who procrastinates. Doesn't that make you feel better? Good, now get to work.

So I'm living, if you can call it that, in Toronto, spending my days much as I would in Calgary - worrying about stuff I can't control. A great thing happened the other night though - Saturday. I was having a crisis, and trying to put some perspective on the whole thing, I thought, "At least I'm living in interesting times." Remember that ol' Chinese blessing "May you live in interesting times"? So I wrote that down. That night, I went to a clown show. This guy from New York, directed by Sue Morrison, and he was a pretty good clown. His show, unfortunately, was about nothing. Nothing happened. It was a metaphor for our lives. We're trapped on this earth, and we're all bored or scared or lost or hiding or whatever. Hooray. Like I need a clown to tell me that. But what a freak out when he says, "May you live in interesting times."

Okay, it's not THAT weird, I know. But hey - I don't think that phrase every day. I don't write it down to comfort myself every day. And I don't go and see clowns from New York every day. So, it made a difference to me, to the way I felt. It made me feel like I'm on the right path. As long as there is a connection from my psyche to the world around me, and the psyches of others, particularly other clowns, I know that I can't be far off. Or something. Don't you think? You ever have those moments when the exact thing you are thinking is confirmed by someone else? It's not that you need your thoughts to be validated by another person, it's just that it feels good to know you're not the only one. I guess. Or something.

To sum up - what kind of a blessing is that, anyway? "Interesting times." That doesn't specify good, or bad, or ugly, or beautiful. It's just... "interesting." Have there been any times that weren't interesting? Maybe the 1830's. They don't sound too interesting. You don't hear about them, not like the 1890's or the 1920's or the 1960's. But I'm sure they were interesting.

See, this is why it's been 5 years since my last solo show. These are the kinds of things that go through my head, and I'm sure they are interesting to no-one but me. See, there's that word again - interesting. What the fuck is "interesting"? What? I was interested in that clown, from New York, his show was "interesting." But it wasn't "good".

I leave you with that. My blog will draw no conclusions. Only ask pointless questions. At least, until I can find some conclusions to draw.

2006-02-12T10:23:00.000-08:00

Hey - I finally remembered my username! Now I can blog again!

I've been in Toronto for a week and a half. I thought I would feel more out of place here, but I feel right at home. I like big city life. I like new surroundings. But best of all, I like that I'm still in Canada. I can still read the Globe and Mail. I can still watch the Canadians at the Olympics on CBC. I can still get gummies at 7-11 and coffee at Tim Hortons. I love Canada.

I've been working on a grant application for AFA. I think they'd be nuts not to give it to us. Lindsey Hodgson and I are working on a pirate clown show, to be directed by John Turner of Mump and Smoot. (We hope). We should be able to work it out.

There are two cute kitties in the apartment where I'm staying. They're my kitties for a month. I love them.

2005-12-15T17:31:00.000-08:00

Snaaaatch

Finally, it's Thursday evening. One last day of Trickster hell and then it's all over. But for how long...?

At least there are other things on the horizon. Clown show, pirate show, jesus show... toronto... ahhhhh! The idea of living in Toronto scares me shitless. But I can't remember anything I've done that has been worthwhile that hasn't scared me shitless at first. So it must be the right decision.

or at least that's what i'll keep telling myself.

2005-12-08T17:33:00.000-08:00

Ahhh so here it is. My new way of avoiding the things that I should really be doing. Like working on my clown turn for tomorrow night. I'm sure in future, this will come in handy for all sorts of things, such as... um... such as... actually, I don't really have a clue what I'll have to avoid in future. I don't know what my future will hold. Next week perhaps I'll use it to avoid writing scripts for Trickster on Tuesday night. Yes, yes, and then I'll use it to avoid writing my tech sheets on Wednesday. But once Trickster is over... what comes next?