2012.

Day One.

There's a lot of stuff that I owe to this blog.  Things that need to be recorded.  One of those things I hope to accomplish today.  There's still two interviews awaiting the editing bay and a slew more that need to be shot.  But today is Day One.  One thing at a time and everything in it's right place.

Church.

I've mentioned in the past few posts that we had an intensive week with Andreí.  It's a chance to really work intensively (go figure) on some scenes that we either felt went well and would like to try to develop further or scenes that didn't go so well and would like a chance to make right.  Every night we have an hour and a half session where both the first and second year classes come together and listen and meditate on readings that Andreí thinks would be relevant to our development.  There were two nights that struck me rather hard.  One night dealt with the idea of identity, the other had to do with the idea of the theater as a holy place.

I've written previously about my thoughts on both of these ideas, but I was caught off guard by how irreverently I had been treating my time during the few weeks leading up to the night where Andreí read about the spirituality of the theater and it's potential.  I, admittedly, have the inimitable ability to lose focus on such a grand scale that I, myself, often have trouble fathoming it.  I can get selfish quite quickly.  I shut down.

I had been in a rather large funk and had withdrawn a bit into myself and thought that I was focusing on myself, but in reality was probably being a larger asshole than I care to report here.  What stuck me was that after a mere twelve weeks I had lost sight of what my place was in the grand scheme of things and was being not only disrespectful to my own experience, but probably everyone else's as well.

Andreí's main point for reading his selection that evening was to shine a light on an attitude that he felt was being allowed to flower in the department.  We had, as a class, been joking, talking, napping, and horsing around through classes and weren't respecting ourselves, our craft, or each other.

It got me thinking about working for over a year to get in to this program, and how quickly I had lost sight of the point.

We have class in Riverside Church three times a week.  Every Wednesday through Friday, when entering the church, I take off my cap (if I'm wearing one), lower my voice and put another cap on the profanity.  That's respect for an institution that I don't believe in, and I couldn't seem to muster up the respect for one that I do believe in.  It was night of some pretty great clarity.  I hope I can maintain it.

Finally.

So this is the new year!  There's been some fantastic moments to round out 2011 that I won't share here, and some incredible friendships and experiences already in the dawn hours of 2012.  So, thank you for reading!  I hope you've enjoyed this account of my experience.  As promised last year, I hope to include more thoughts and materials from my fellow classmates, more interviews, and more insight into this wonderful adventure that we share.

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man."  
- Benjamin Franklin


Happy New Year!


-R

Bargering Back in to the Blog Business.

I think the last time I posted I mention Intensives.  Andrei puts them on once a year, and we get the chance to work (intensively) on a few scenes from his class which we either thought were great, or needed work.  We then do a sort of presentation for an audience, which for us is a bit of a rare opportunity.

It's also a great chance to work a bit closer with the Class of 2013, we have an opportunity to sit pin on their sessions and glean what we can from watching other people work on different materials.  It's really cool.

Andrei also gathers everyone together for readings.  Both classes sit and listen for about an hour and a half to selected texts about the craft that Andrei hopes will inspire.  There were two that really got me that week.  One was about the identity of the artist as a person and the other was about drive.

I found myself in a bit of a slump towards the middle of November.  I was informed by some of the writers in the writing program that my work here was not really appreciated.  In fact it was reviled, I believe, and I was truly disheartened because one of the things that had kept me focused was... well, not great.  I had injured my foot which was causing me to lght-step through some of the more physical classes; scene work wasn't going well; I was feeling bit lost; and the semester had become a bit of a mess.

So i decided to work.

But I think I'll take the next few days to catch everyone up on what's been happening.  Also, I did get ONE interview.  I just need to edit and post it.  I might get one more before the end of the year.  I'll have to try to lure Josué in front of the camera some how.  Let me know if anyone has a spare jar of peanut butter or a bottle of sriracha sauce.

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I have some pretty amazing friends.  Old ones.  New ones.  All of them amazing; supportive.

My class mates are amazing and truly inspiring.  Something happened at the end of the year.  I think it might have been the Intensives Week, but there was a sudden and dramatic shift.  Everything started really clicking.  Maybe that old prophecy in Winter is Coming finally came true...

I got a chance to see for an extended period two of my absolute favorite people from Los Angeles: Selin Mehrabian (who has one of the largest pieces of my heart) and Brian Turley (A better friend you could not ask for) who came to stay with his girlfriend Rebecca Guzzi.  Selin has been here for about a month now; Brian and Rebeccca for the last week.  All three left NYC today.  All three will be sorely missed.  i also had this wonderful chance encounter with Carly Menkin on the train last night on the way home from midtown.  I felt a hand sliding towards my wallet.  I thought my pocket was being picked and wheeled about to deck the little heavy-handed thief to find that it was just Carly getting a squeeze in.  We chatted and ended up going to grab a beer.

Good friends.  No, great friends!  All.  I'm pretty blessed in that.

And one in particular for whom this is somewhat title, for getting me focused on writing things down again!


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So tomorrow, I'll start back in in earnest.  Talk church.  I can't promise much over the break, but we'll see what we can do!


"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."

- Clive Staples Lewis


Thank you, Brittni.


-R

Aaaaaaaaand We're Back.

So Thanksgiving has come and gone.  I'm returning from a healthy, and much needed writing break, and also a intensely relaxing four-day weekend.  It felt like a month. Seriously.  A month.

But do you know how hard it is to not write?  It is in my blood, so it should be said that I am very please to be back here with you, reader, typing away from your viewing pleasure.  I hope its viewing pleasure, at least.

So, there's a lot to catch up on, right?  You'd think, but surprisingly it was very much business as usual in class.  Most people, I think (myself included) were really just trying to muscle through to the holiday.

And what a holiday it was.

I stayed, cooked for myself a little stuffed chicken breast (don't worry I had a little turkey later) with some veggies and a little green bean casserole (because what is Thanksgiving without green bean casserole?) before heading out to meet up with brother Phillip and brother Adam at Adam's friend's place in Sunnyside.  These guys were amazing and just what I needed on a Thanksgiving away rom home.  Some really great, genuine down to Earth mid-westerners.  Super hospitable and provided a tremendously enjoyable evening with some brilliant home-made pie.  If you are reading this, seriously, I can;t thank you enough.  Phillip and I later took off to go meet up with some other friends in the Upper West Side... which turned out to be not what we expected.  To save you from having to read what would end up being a thirteen-page blog, I'll say that if you ever for any reason cannot make it home for some of your own family's brand of crazy shenanigans apparently Columbia has some coked-out sociopath PhD candidates on hand to give you a dose of whatever you're missing and then some.  Seriously...  scary stuff.

Also this weekend brought one of my all-time favorite people in the world back into my life: world-traveler and fellow Titan, Selin Mehrabian.  I love her to bits and I get her for a month.  Anarchy.  You should know that if I for any reason miss a blog post now that we're back, it's because I'm probably out having the time of my life.

But what about the school stuff, you ask?

We have started the first week of intensives with Andrei today.  I'll explain a little bit more of the process tomorrow or Wednesday when I have a little bit more time, but I wish that class were like this all the time.  It's brilliant and I hope to catch some video to post as well.  Fingers crossed.  Our scene from Mourning Becomes Electra was becoming a bit of a problem child and a source of some pretty nasty stress, but we get to deconstruct it now, and I'm really excited about the direction and shape that it's taking.  Again, more on that later.

I, honestly, need a little ramen; a little Walking Dead; and a little sleep.  Now that we're back you can expect some more regular updates again.  Huzzah!  Sweet Jesus, I just realized I'm blogging like Brittni Barger (whose antics can be found here).  What.  Have.  I.  Done?  Anyway, I hope you've had a fantastic break from us as well and look forward to updates over the rest of the semester.


"Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many"
- Unknown (found on a Snapple cap)


Breathe in.  Breathe out.

-Nix

Inhabiting a Role.

Andrei came back today.  We had his class and zipped through the scenes that we had.  Everybody today was on point, perhaps refilling some of the confidence gauge all around.  Yeah, there's a gauge.  Afterwards we were treated to a little lecture of sorts by Mr. Serban reflective of one he delivered in Romania a few days prior about inhabiting role; the importance of elevating the character and the aspirations of theater, especially as a place of spiritual healing.  If you've been keeping up on some of my lengthier posts, you an probably imagine me grooving to this chat.  I did.

It turns out that this is just what I needed.  The past two weeks, or so, I've been in a bit of a funk where I often found myself thinking,"What the fuck am I doing here?  I don't belong here."  Admittedly, I still am not entirely sure, but the talk roused me out of my malaise and I'm now totally stoked to get back to work.  I'm working on a scene from Spring Storm with Kristie that I'm really thrilled about, even more so now that I've got a little fire back; and a scene from Last Days of Judas Iscariot with Zarif that I just returned home from rehearsing.  We may have drained a twelve during the scene.  It takes place in a bar.  Rehearsal was incredibly productive.  The scene's (on the surface) just two guys having out in a bar, having a chat.  What's really brilliant is that Zarif and I really jive as actors together, and honestly there's probably not too many people that I'd rather hang out in a bar with right now.

I'm going to turn in before the buzz (of the beer and of the lecture) wear off.  We'll be back tomorrow, I'm sure.

"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant."
- Robert Louis Stevenson

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

-R

The Given Circumstances.

One of my favorite parts of working on anything scene-related is pulling it apart based on the actions and words of the characters and figuring out what happened to these people before they got involved in whatever they are getting involved in.  What makes these people tick?  What are the possibilities?  I often don't like it when people go to far and make up some story about a character losing a dog and how that affected them terribly... blah, blah, blah.  It's cool if you lose a dog and that helps you get to wherever you need to go, but don't waste my time with your fanciful bullshit.  The answers are in the text.  granted sometimes a text modern needs some fleshing out; that's fun, but whatever the case may be, doing the detective work really turns me on.  I remember back in undergrad, my very first Chekhov scene that Svet had assigned me was between Masha and Vershinin from 'Three Sisters'.  That scene was a fucking puzzler, and my room-mates,who were grad students at the time and had already dealt with it were strictly pulled aside and told not to help me out.  That Svet is a crafty one.  The whole major action between the two characters happens off stage and is never directly referred to; it's alluded to.  I look back on it now, and say to myself, "Obviously.  Of course, that's what happened.", and really appreciate the lesson.  I won't spoil it for you.  Most of you probably know exactly what I'm talking about, but for those of you who don't, read it; check it out.  It's good stuff.  I mean, Chekhov, right!?

Toni Ann and I are working on 'Mourning Becomes Electra' right now in Andrei's class.  I am the Orin to her Lavinia, which is great because back in ancient Greece, she's the Electra to my Orestes.  It might be a bit of a cheat, but the great stories are often stolen and reshaped, and you can't go wrong with 'The Oresteia'.  Aeschylus for the win.  I will admit to you, that the scene was a bit of a last-miutepick-up for me, so I haven't read the three plays entirely through; we're still muddling through that.  Naughty actors... tsk, tsk.  So I, in need of putting up the scene for the first time had to go off of what I know about the play, generally, and my more extensive knowledge of it's source material.  Thank god that Andrei's the type of teacher that gives you time to get yourself involved with  what you're about to do before you launching to it.  I get some time to write in my manuscript, converse with my dead father and get in touch with my own personal inner-guilt demons.

Our scene today was a pretty rocky first start.  Getting to work with another actor in a company for the first time is alway s a bit of an experiment: finding their own rhythm, jiving, learning how they work and how to best work together.  It's very jazz.  I'm more the kind of guy that mostly likes to learn lines; know my own business; lay a ground plan; throw in some environmental surprises, trust the other actor and let fate and discovery decide where things take us.  Now there is a "plan" in the script; Romeo and Juliet never get a happy ending because I feel like it, and eventually some traffic patterns loosely form.  I like to know that I can move "off the rails" when the perfect opportunity strikes, but, in the end, most of the time some general foundations are laid (a nice balance between knowing what's coming, but still being able to be caught off guard).  Like, I said, it was a rocky start, but we each learned something and after some post-mortem and another kine-rehearsal, I'm really excited to give it another go tomorrow.

What's really great about tracing the clues back to their possible foundations is not only the chance to play detective (after all, part of my draw to this form of start telling is that it is, to me, a social science), but also getting in touch with the need to think about why people in the world of the text and, by extension, the real world are motivated to do the things that they do.  It's a whetstone that, with use, can very finely hone a person's sense of compassion: something that, I would argue might be in somewhat of a short supply (even if the world were full of compassion, I might still argue it; can you really ever have enough?).

Personally, I have been dealing with a challenge for the past several months.  This is going to get honest, probably more so than I ought to in this forum, but it was an experience and applies to my point, so here it comes.  I have a friend for whom I, admittedly, care a great deal.  We haven't seen much of each other over the last several months, but there has been a growing antipathy between us for this time that we have not... been in each other's social sphere, let's say.  There has been talk by third parties of how one dislikes the other, conversations tend to be awkward, bordering on not-so-subtle (yet socially polite) enmity.  There was a mild confrontation that left me more than a bit cross yesterday after dinner.  My entire bus ride home was filled with thoughts of how this had all come to pass.  What led the two of us, two people who once got along quite well, to a state of dissolution.  It occurred to me in my tracing of the lines that there had been times where I had been trying to rebuild a bridge and had been rebuffed, and times when she had been boldly extending the olive branch, only to be spurned by my recently singed feelings and pride.  It was a disconsolate cycle in which we had mired ourselves.  The fates had provided an opportunity to steal away for a quick, private chat today; we seized it and allowed for us to share sentiment and cleanse and salve the wounds that we were perpetually inflicting on one and other.  I believe, now, that miscommunication and, perhaps, some external bending of the truth were the source of the problem, but fortunately, it no longer matters the given circumstances no longer hold sway.

The theater, and the power to share stories of kings and beggars and losers that win, can be a truly healing place; a triage for the soul.  Today, and the lessons of the days leading up to today sometimes afford us the opportunities to heal ourselves with solicitude; warmth; love; tenderness; mercy, leniency - Compassion: the very best of given circumstances.

"Compassion brings us to a stop, and, for a moment, we rise above ourselves."
-Mason Cooley

Tonight, my heart is full.

-R

Flash. Thunder.

There's a rather fierce lightning storm happening right outside of my window, here in Astoria, as I write this.  There's something very primal and inspiring and visceral about it all.  There's the flash of electric light cutting through the sky and a near-immediate report of thunder that sounds as if the skies are sucking air.  It's right above me and I can't help but be thrilled looking out my window for the next display and flinching back at the majesty of it all with my hackles at attention.

Today, in Kristin's class we continued the throat and tongue work that progresses us a step further in her cycle of vocal training.  I'm really floored by the amount of attention put into what can initially seem the most trifling of exercises and the profound effect they have on my classmates.  I say my classmates, because I was one of the few that wasn't re-jiggered today.  Hopefully that will happen tomorrow.  Seeing the release of long-held tension in a certain part of the body will sometimes also result in a flood of unexpected emotion, which really makes clear the relationship between tension and expression.  It's interesting stuff.

In Andrei's class today, we had a two-hour post-mortem of Monday night's events.  I was surprised at how many of my classmates were less than thrilled with their work from Monday night.  Not that there were many people, but to hear from the of the doubt that they had in their own performances was so unexpected.  These guys (and gals) are so good, and have no reason to doubt their own work, especially at Columbia where there is no onus to "perform".  It's one of the major reasons why I so desperately wanted to study here.  I remember seeing presentations of classwork under Andrei's guidance in the months before I started and and hearing him tell the audience that there is no need to applaud; that what they were about to see was lab-work of the students and a continuation of their rehearsal process.  I think that might actually be the point where I really fell in love with the program.  An audience member might be moved to respond appreciatively, but the banal contract of perform-applaud isn't encouraged.  Everyone involved (student and audience member) has a reverent respect for the work.  Now it's natural and a great sign that my fellow classmates care about what they submit, but, I suppose, I'm affected by the sour sense I get from the way that they treat themselves.  Their work should be celebrated always.  After viewing what happened myself, I'm a little crestfallen that the report that I hear that follows it doesn't sound with the same ferocity as the work that preceded it.  Maybe it's adulterated by the days that have passed since then and reflection has set in.  I don't know.

The class closed with us sorting ourselves into new groups and going over the material we have selected for our next round of scenes (spoiler: O'Neill & Kushner).  I'm taking on two scenes this time, as are a few others in the class which is exciting.  Everybody's really hungry to do more.  No one is looking for the easy ride through, and that idea alone provides a charge and an external precipitate to do better.  There's a sense of this pause that is happening.  Even though there was a note of subtle disappointment amongst some of us, I can feel that the atmosphere of the class is charged; little stepped leaders are reaching out, and I feel the class sending streamers out in hopes of lightning striking again.

"Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally."
-DAVID FROST


I'll report back to you at the first flash.

-R

DeNoble. (Imagi-ninja)

Today was a stressful day.  For quite a while this afternoon, I was fretting having to come home and write about it because I really didn't want to relive it for you in front of my computer screen.  Much of what I was planning on revolved around the idea of teaching and terror as a tool to accomplish that goal...  I'll leave it at that.

I hadn't slept much last night.  This is an admission: I may have done a little too much blogging (re:journaling) last night.  There.  I said it.  After class today my sole purpose in life was to get home as fast humanly and MTA-ingly possible and enact Operation: Nap Time (which was a resounding success), but I found myself falling in to my usual pattern of engaging in a little verbal horseplay on the way to fetch things out of my locker.  I ended up in a conversation with Ms. Toni Ann DeNoble.  She's an actor in my class, and she's spectacular.

On a quick tangent:  I did the exercise in Larry's class that I had posted about earlier this week with Toni Ann and made a comment to her about having three fully-grown imaginations.  Seriously, the woman in imagining on planes of existence that only three-year-olds can fully harness, such is the power of her imagination.  It's a flabbergasting thing to see.  It's a little like being a ninja in ninja school and watching one of your fellow student-ninjas ninja-sword fight with her feet... and win.  It's ninja-impressive.

Back to the conversation: we had gotten involved in a conversation about the concept of age and what it means to people.  I found that she's of  like mind with me, where it becomes an annoyance to be constantly asked, "How old are you?"

I, for my part, have a bit of fun with this, and generally don't share right away with people my true count of sun-revolutions because, to me, it becomes an instant label to be confined in.  In my life, it's almost always one of the first questions asked when meeting some one.  It's like being sorted for future reference.  Ideas are formed and my personality gets assigned weights based on measures of other people, rather than just being allowed to have someone learn about who I am the old-fashioned way.  It's almost like:

Name: Jim
Age: 34
Political: Conservative
Religion: Mormon
Marital: Married
Children: Yes
Job: Dentist
Education: College Graduate; Dental school
... and so on and so forth

And, yes, these things come up; and, yes, they do define us, but there can be certain judgements that arise when certain other factors don't add up to a person's age.  There's an assessment based on someone else's standards, like when you hear that there's a woman who's thirty-six that's never been married/no kids and is a manager at a watch store in the mall in the town she grew up in.  You might think to yourself, "What's wrong with her?  She should be doing a lot better for herself at thirty-six."  I find that it's usually people in their fifties and people younger than their early twenties that tend (to me, at least) to assign so much significance to this number.  The 50+ like to remind me about how I'm not married (because that's a fail, right) and how "much more" they had accomplished by the time they were my age.  By people not old enough to drink in bars, I'm, "Old-as-shit, dude.", before I get assaulted with a litany of things that this person is going to do to be in a much better place when they reach my age.

This was essentially the nature of the conversation, and how this one little piece of information can so quickly define you in the eyes of others.  It's such an inconsequential thing.  It's nothing to be ashamed of, and yet it becomes the heavily-guarded secret by someone like myself, and as I discovered, Toni Ann, because you want people to know who you are and what you're about before offer them a little nugget of information that can help them make a snap decision.  It's like a way of respecting yourself... maybe.  Besides, isn't it much more exciting what you can learn about a person when you don't ask the expected questions?  Anyway, that's the philosophy behind it, and one that we both, I found, share.  I was so rapt in our chat, that I opted to take the train home (which adds an extra 20 minutes on to my commute to Astoria from the Upper West Side, just so I could squeeze in about ten extra minutes of brilliant conversation with her.  It was good.

I had discovered myself thinking while listening to Zarif today in Andrei's class that I really do enjoy the faces of the people who I get to share these next three years with.  I mean, they have some really excellent, look-worthy faces; and thanks to these great little accidental moments with Toni Ann, I get to appreciate what goes on behind the faces that I'm coming to adore so much.

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To continue to honor Anika's demand for "More Photos!", here's a picture of some faces back from collaboration weekend.  Tonia Ann, sadly, whom this post has been titled for is not present, but you can see for yourself some of the look-worthy faces that I mentioned earlier.  Aren't they a good-looking group!?!?  Also, this should please Sheyenne who constantly reminds me that I don't give her the attention she deserves.

"I hope that posterity will judge me kindly, not only as to the things which I have explained, but also to those which I have intentionally omitted so as to leave to others the pleasure of discovery."
- Rene Descartes 


Doo zee Fool!


-R

Science.

It's been a while since I've made a post, but with this sexy new computer, I admit to you, my dear friend-reader, that I no longer have any excuse to not barrage you with bloggy thoughts.

I grew up in a non-religious household.  My mom was a non-practicing Catholic and my father was rather lax Mormon.  It was once explained to me that the spawn of such a union wasn't really welcome in either faith (an opinion that, strangely, has since been retracted).  There was a god just like there was an Easter Bunny, but we didn't really "find" religion until my teenage years.  My more formative years were spent with something much more digestible to my young mind.  I'd like to share it with you now; ladies and gentlemen, I present to you...


THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD:
Ask a question.
Perform background research.
Compose a hypothesis.
Experiment against the hypothesis.
Analyze data and draw a conclusion to the validity of the hypothesis.
Communicate data.


To this day, I still label myself a scientist.  I'm not spending my time reverse engineering dinosaurs out of chicken embryos or developing ways to communicate natural light to underground parks or working out constants for how mass bends space/time... I'm acting.  Just in case you're new to this blog... that's way I'm up to; that's what this is about, but I consider acting to be a social science; the study of the human condition with all sorts of delicious variables.   The rehearsal space has become, to me, a laboratory for exactly what we (humans) are capable of in varying circumstances and a way to examine the consequences of the actions one might take in a safe environment.  Also, it's a great way to meet women.

There are all sorts of tools to employ when doing this sort of work, you may be familiar (if not a BELIEVER!) in one or more of them.  These tools come from Stanislavski, Meyerhold, Strasburg, Meisner, Adler, Alexander... the list goes on and on.  In my youth, I had always had a distaste for Method Acting.  I always got a sort of sick feeling when hearing the pushers peddle their mystical wares.  It never took.  It wasn't until Sveta introduced me to Stanislavski's System and explained to me the fundamental differences between the System and the Method that I went, "Aha!  Now I see."  A light switch had been turned on in my mind, and had ignited a fire in my soul.  So yes, if my body were a house, it would be a really kitch one with a light-switch fireplace.  "This is science!", I said to myself.  Observation.  Test: does this work?  No?  Reformulate.  Simplify.  Eradicate the superfluous circumstances.  WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?!?!?  I was addicted...  I should mention that I don't look down on other methods; everyone has their own flavor, this is mine.  It's delectable.

Lately, I keep getting these warnings:  "It's going to get tough."; "Honeymoon's going to be over soon."; "Blah, blah, blah, negativity, blah."

"Bring on the challenge!", I say, "The 'honeymoon' is the breath before the plunge, and, let's face it, negativity is the aegis of the weak-willed; leave it at home."

Now we, the class, are here to learn.  That's a fact.  I strongly urge you to try to find someone within the group that came here for something other than the pursuit of additional knowledge and a greater understanding.  There might be some other influencing factors in an individual's "Top 5", but I seriously doubt in my heart of hearts that anyone is dropping a few hundred grand on ego alone.  I do have faith in that.  I very well could be wrong (which is always exciting).  Despite all these warnings and heraldings of the doom-time, what has become to me, in these last two weeks, the largest obstacle is the sense that there is a "way" to do things.  A single, solitary way.  My only interest is that whatever path is chosen, it leads to the truth (preferably in he most economical way possible).  I have born witness to several instances recently where "truths" are reached in hurried and unrefined ways, whether it be the opinion of a teacher making some harsh criticisms about the quality of that student's character after failing to observe that he followed a command to take a half a step forward; the classmate who railroads an other classmate over how to approach a project because he/she KNOWS how to go about it; or the girl in the bar after class who makes broad statements to a person she just met based on the actions that she's observed other people perform, coming to  a hard "theory" of human nature and, perhaps, the basic understanding of the self and the projection that has to occur to justify the understanding.  There is a faith in these things.  I call it faith because it is a concept that goes unexplored or is questionably underdeveloped.  I wrote earlier in this very paragraph that I had faith that there was not a soul in my class that was an ego-maniacal asshole.  I'm not without it.  I also said my faith could be misplaced.

Now, I'm not calling in to question the theories of Kristin or Andrei or anyone else on staff.  As I said, I'm here to learn.  That's the point.  It is my hope, and thus far my opinion based on observation, that, even now, personal philosophies that bear the names of these people are malleable; in a state of flux.  They may vibrate ever so exiguously around a certain frequency, but the foundation is there.   The product still feels accesible.  But, outside of that, there are these slights to my beloved science which create an environment where no experimentation can occur.

I, as I imagine you do, have this strong sense that most of the things that I "know" are true.  After all, they've gotten me this far, they can't be so bad, yet there is an understanding that personal truth is perception and perception is subjective.  If I wander into an opportunity where a truth is confronted and threatened, I usually have two clear and immediate choices:

1) take a defensive stance; or
2) question, observe, and experiment.

I was reading an article earlier this week that at CERN there is evidence on file that muon->tao neutrinos had arrived in Gran Sasso roughly 60 nanoseconds earlier than they ought to have.  Big deal?  Yeah, because it means that they were traveling faster than light, which is IMPOSSIBLE!!!  At least that's what I thought.  I scoffed into my morning oatmeal, "Fools!  How dare you question Einstein!"  I was defensive.  Then I started to think, "There's a problem here somewhere... obviously."  Then I got excited, "Does this mean time-travel is possible without the aid of an 'I'm going to crush everything ever conceived- size (massive) object?   What does this mean for causality?  Did physics just die?"  Everything that I knew was true about the physical world just fell apart in front of me at breakfast.  But truth is perception and perception is subjective... always, and I was reminded that I'm not above it.  It got me thinking about outcomes to our little problems in the acting class.

Outcomes may tend to show that one perception is true and the other false, but more often than not that both are true, yet unrefined as to show a deeper truth, OR most excitingly, that neither truth is true and that both need to be set aside in order to find the truth (but with a partner scientist!)  What I'm getting at is that there have been some not fully open minds within the program that I've come across... hold on a second.

Statement:

I am not perfect, but just as I challenge you to find a person who is not truly in my class to learn, I challenge you to find a time, when I'm not willing to put something; anything; everything to the test.  If you catch me, not only will I get wide-eyed enthusiastic about what you are telling me that you feel I am unwilling to examine, but I will also buy you a coke (or other reasonably interchangeable beverage of your choosing). 

That being said, I had been left perplexed by certain instances where the chance to develop ideas and examine the status quo have been brushed aside in an effort to "get it right".  I was left aggravated that I was hearing that something is "wrong" without getting chance to live and experience "wrong" for myself.  Michael Jordan once said, "I can accept failure, everyone fails at something. But I can't accept not trying."  I couldn't agree more.  Also... look at me quoting athletes!

So I am left with questions:  Will this change?  Will I grow to fight it more feverishly?  Will that go over well?  Can I be diplomatic about it?  Am I wrong to question it?  Are science and art so estranged from each other?  Will I look back on this post one day and laugh at my own naiveté?  Breathe them in; breathe them out.  That is, after all, why I'm here, right?  Questions, questions, questions.  Or as I have accepted it to be... Step 1) Ask a question.


I think I have plenty of time to perform the necessary background research.

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

-R

Talen.

I ordered a computer of my own last night.  Hopefully I'll be able to update this thing as much as I'd like.  I feel like there are just sooooooo many thoughts running through my head that simply deserve to be immortalized in blog form for your viewing pleasure.  It's a strange thing, thoughts grow stale when they go unwritten and they don't seem worthy of the keystrokes needed to put them to the virtual page.

I go to school with some pretty amazing and inspiring people.  I thought tonight might be a good opportunity to introduce you to some of the characters that will more than likely be reoccurring herein.  I mentioned in one of my first posts that the bromance that has developed within The Fourteen is a beautiful thing.  Sleep soundly knowing that it only continues to grow in new and amazing ways.

I'm working on a scene from "True West" right now with Mr. Andy Talen.  He's from Wisconsin, which seems to produce some of my favorite actor-people (Zack Kraus, anyone).  We've started off with a little Sam Shepard intensive for Andrei Serban's class, and I wanted to tackle this for a few reasons:

1) It's an exploration in brotherhood.  Being an only child, I don't have much experience with actual brothers.
2) And this is why I love grad school, I get to go against type and not play the dweeby writer, but the older, drunker, larcenous bully-brother.  Fun times.

But back to Andy, I like this dude a lot... I may even love him (and as they say here on the East Coast, "No homo.")  Not only is the dude tremendously genuine, but incredibly generous as well.  I had harbored some fears that coming and working with people in an environment with a bunch of over-achieving twenty-something actors might lead to some problems of ego... and it still might, just not here.  I left our rehearsal tonight feeling pumped on just doing the work.  For the first time in a long time, I really remembered why I fell in love with this particular craft in the first place.  There's really nothing like getting together with another artist, particularly one who holds some great talent and an open mind and a willingness to open up and experience and collaborate, and dive head first into a great scene.  Every time we finished a section we hopped right back into it, sometimes after a few words of concepts; thoughts; or ideas, but, still, hopped right back into it... enthused.  It all just clicked.  There's still plenty of work to be done, but I don't think that I could possibly feel any more confident going into Andrei's class tomorrow, and couldn't have drawn a better first partner to kick things off with.  So thank you, sir.

I am going to decompress by watching some Netflix for about a half an hour before tackling some last-minute revisions to a one page scene for Kristin and heading to bed.  I hope you are enjoying the blog.  If you have any questions, or anything you'd like to hear about, please leave them in the comments section below, or on my Facebook page.

-Nix