For now, I’m focusing on web design, because I enjoy it and I think I’m decent at it.  I’ve put together a portfolio that showcases my work up to this point, and sometime today or tomorrow I’ll be redesigning this site and updating it to look more professional than it does.

So, if any of you readers need a web designer for your company, leave a comment and I’ll link you to my portfolio and, if you’re still interested, we can work out some details.

“In fact, it is abuse, and deserves to be called what it is: bullshit. There is absolutely no value in making your “homework assignment” so obscure that the students don’t even know it is an assignment. In addition, this teacher better have had a damn good reason to have asked students to learn how to “wait,” because if that was the sole purpose of the “exercise” it is empty nonsense, which is what all too much acting “training” amounts to.” — Scott Walters

Exactly. Thank you! It’s complete, utter bullshit. For everyone who agrees with Scott and myself, I encourage you to check out Scott’s blog, Theatre Ideas, and join the discussion on how the theatre blogosphere believes change is coming. Subscribe to it, bookmark it – I don’t care. Just read it!

I look at my neighbor. He looks back at me with the most puzzled expression I’ve ever seen. I glance at the rest of my classmates, and they’re equally dumbfounded. After several moments of silence, the class finally begins to start the process of leaving the studio theatre and moving on to our next class or whatever it is that we have to do. In my case, lunch.

The weekend flies by, as weekends tend to do in my town. Monday morning quickly arrives, and I stroll off to class. I sit down off to the side, so I can watch my classmates’ reactions to the lesson. I like to watch people, to see if they understand as well (or as poorly) as I do what is being taught. McPsycho strolls into the room, her presence dominating everyone’s mind. She spins around, looks at the class, and smiles.

“Good morning, everyone,” she chimes. She looks around. “Who would like to perform their homework assignment first?”

I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. Nobody moves. Nobody knows what the homework assignment actually is. A very bad feeling.

“How about you?” McPsycho is staring at me.

Shit.

I shake my head and shrug as if to say, “Sorry, didn’t do it.” She shakes her head at me and makes a mark in her book.

“Should’ve been prepared. Tsk tsk.” She looks around.

“Fluffy!” McPsycho calls out to a short guy with curly red hair. He awkwardly walks up to the front of the room. He clearly has no clue what he’s supposed to be doing. McPsycho smiles broadly and sits down and watches. Fluffy just sits there, doing nothing.

“Bravo!” McPsycho exclaims.

The entire class looks bewildered, Fluffy included.

“Now, class,” she says in her sing-song voice. “Who wants to wait next?”

I nearly fall out of my chair. She had wanted us to act like we were waiting for something. The rest of the class went up there, one by one, and pretended to wait for a bus or for a friend or for whatever. I sat off to the side, frustrated and flustered. I got a zero for the assignment.

Go figure.

When I’m asked how I would go about designing concepts for, say, A Doll’s House, I have no idea.  Half the time the vision in my mind is kind of what I would expect the traditional director to do.  I wouldn’t really change the time period or the setting much.  I don’t really want to change things for the sake of changing things, or just because I think “hey, that would be neat to try.”  I’d like for them to have reasons.

Is that such a bad thing?  Whenever I’ve interviewed for directing, I’ve tried to come up with different ways to approach traditional plays, cause I figure that’s what they want.  They want someone who stands out from the crowd.  Someone who just wants to do A Doll’s House in a traditional way?  Why bother? That’s boring.  Do it from a fresh standpoint.

The biggest thing I’ve learned about directing in the past two years is that I don’t know much at all.  Every time I learn something it opens up more questions than it answers.  Questions I don’t know how to answer myself.  That’s one of the biggest reasons as to why I want to pursue an MFA program.

Setting: A car

A: I hate this light.

B: Me too.

A: It has GOT to be the longest light in the world.

B: Yeah.

A: No joke, man. The longest light in the whole damn world.

B: Yeah.

A: I mean, seriously. One time, I pulled up to this light and I think I sat here for ten minutes. No joke.

B: That’s crazy.

A: No joke!

B: Yeah, I got that.

A: I’m serious. Ten minutes. What a waste of time.

B: It’s not like you have anywhere else to be, ya know?

A: Anywhere else to be…. Anywhere else to be! I could be at home, that’s where I could be!

B: I guess.

A: What if there was an emergency? What if I had forgotten to turn the oven off, and as we speak, my house is burning down. What then? I can’t do anything, I’m stuck at this stupid light.

B: That’s rough.

A: Maybe I should call my wife and make sure I turned that oven off.

B: Maybe.

A: I will. (picks up the phone, dials it.) Honey? Is the house on fire? (pause) Oh, okay. Good. No, no reason. Just curious. Love you, bye. (hangs up) (pause) No fire.

B: That’s good.

A: But it could have happened!

B: I’m sure.

A: It could have. It’s seriously plausible.

B: I’m sure it is, man.

A: Maybe we should get show where they bust myths on this. What’s that called? Doesn’t matter. Test out the scenario. Put a guy at a stop light and set his house on fire. See what happens.

B: I love that show, dude.

A: I’m sure they’d confirm it. It’s totally plausible.

B: Yeah.

A: This damn light won’t turn green. There’s not even anyone around for miles.

B: Wonder how it knows when to change.

A: That’s easy. They have these little metal grids that go under the road. When a car stops on top of it, it changes the magnetic field, which tells the lights that it’s time to change. Some lights are timed, though, so maybe this one’s timed. That’s why it’s TAKING IT’S DAMN TIME! HURRY THE HELL UP YOU STUPID LIGHT!

B: Geez, dude, calm down. Maybe it’s got one of those metal doohickeys under it. Back up and stuff, maybe, and see if it changes.

A: Fine, fine, I’ll do that. I’ll back the car up in the opposite direction and see if it changes. Meanwhile, my house is burning down.

B: It’s not burning down, man. You just called and it’s not burning down.

A: It could be burning down! It could be burning down!

B: Just move the car. (turns on the radio)

A: I’m telling you, it could be burning down.

(Radio plays “The Roof Is On Fire” by The Bloodhound Gang. Awkward pause.)

A: Turn that damn thing off. (B shuts off radio) This light will never change. Maybe I should just run the light.

B: You can’t, man. There’s a cop over in that gas station parking lot. He might see you.

A: Damn. (pause) You know, I need to go right anyway. I should just turn right.

B: Why didn’t you do that in the first place?

A: Cause the right turn is like… 20 feet past the light.

B: Is that a turn lane?

A: I dunno, looks kinda like a shoulder to me.

B: At least it’s not a leg.

A: …You’re fired.

B: Well, you can’t turn right at the light, cause there’s no road going right. Maybe it’s okay to go right on red, even if the road is 20 feet up.

A: Maybe. But I don’t wanna get a ticket.

B: But your house is burning down, man.

A: No it’s not. I just called home, remember?

B: But it could be.

A: But it’s not!

B: But it could be!

A: Just shut up already. God. This damn light is gonna make me kill you.

(beat)

B: (softly) The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire…

A: (smacks B) I said, shut up.

(Pause)

A: There! It’s green! FINALLY! WOOHOO!

B: Are we gonna go, or are you just gonna do your cheerleading routine?

A: I’m goin’, I’m goin’!

B: We should ask that cop if we coulda gone right there.

A: But my house is burning down.

B: No it’s not.

A: It could be!

B: Just ask him, dude!

A: Fine, fine. (drives closer to cop) Excuse me, officer! Hey! Officer!

(enter Officer)

OFFICER: Can I help you, sir?

A: Yeah, yeah, I got a question. Sir.

OFFICER: Uh huh.

A: That light over there. Can I turn right on red, even though the turn isn’t for, like, another 20 feet?

OFFICER: Uh, well, that shoulder used to be a turn lane til they changed it. Uh.. I don’t really know.

A: Well, would you give me a ticket if I did that?

OFFICER: Uh, probably not. It’s pretty safe to turn there, I think. Even if I did pull you over, I’d probably just let you off with, uh.. with a warning.

B: Sweet.

A: Okay, just checking. I’ve always wondered.

OFFICER: You have to stop first, uh, before you turn.

A: Always do, officer. Always do.

B: For twenty minutes.

A: At least. (beat) Well, thanks, Officer. I gotta run. My house is burning down.

OFFICER: What?!

A: Uhh.. nothing.

B: Later, officer dude.

OFFICER: Have a good evening. (exit)

A: So you can turn right there.

B: Wish we had known that before. Would’ve saved us some time, dude.

A: Well, now we know.

B: Yeah. now we know.

(A’s phone rings)

A: Hello? (beat) WHAT? I’ll be right there!

B: What, dude? What’s going on?

A: I gotta get home. The roof is on fire!

(Curtain.)

This is a recipe that I’ve come up with in response to problems that I faced a lot in my undergraduate program. The drama club always had these grand ideas for fundraisers, talent shows, and full-on theatrical productions. All too often, the plans would be met with great enthusiasm but by the time the next meeting rolled around, the project would have been dropped. The result was that the drama club rarely did anything productive. I once proposed a solution, but due to general apathy, it never really caught on. I am posting this recipe in hopes that another group out there could use some help.

Recipe for Getting Things Done in an Organization

Ingredients:

• Team Leader
• Team Members
• Paper
• Pen/Pencil
• Patience

Instructions:

1. Team leader should decide upon a project to pursue.
2. Document basic ideas and sparse outline of project. Focus on the needs of the project, specifically as they relate to finances and to team resources.
3. At a project or group meeting, team leader should present basic project idea and outline to the group. The idea here is to explain to the group what exactly the team leader is asking from them. In addition, the team should try and anticipate problems based on previous experiences (see step 7).
4. Team members should agree to participate. Ideally, the project should be a coalition of the willing. In addition, there should be a clear chain of command. For example, the team leader might have the final say over the project decisions or the team might decide on a committee to make the final decisions.
5. Once approved, set multiple deadlines for various aspects of the project. For example, if the team were organizing a show, then the designs should be in by the 10th of the month, the set and lights in place by the 20th of the month, etc. The final deadline, of course, should determine the rest of the deadlines. Plan them realistically.
6. Communicate with team members regarding progress, problems, and solutions. More communication means fewer complications and mistakes. Don’t spend too much time communicating though, or the team will never get anything done.
7. Once the project is complete, hold a post-mortem meeting to ask and document the answers to the following questions:
   1. What went right?
   2. What went wrong?
   3. If the team were to do it all over again, how would they do things differently?
8. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Notes: The two biggest points here are communication and accountability. By communicating effectively with one another, the team can avoid most of the problems they might otherwise run into. My documenting everything — from proposal to outlines to deadlines to post-mortem — the team is establishing accountability and records. Without accountability, it’s far too easy to drop the project or lose interest.

(354 words)

I racked my brain the entire way down. I couldn’t really come up with much.

The interview began, and every time I had a question pop into my head about whatever it was the guy was talking about, I asked it. I felt like I did a good job coming up with questions, and I honestly learned a lot more than I would have had I not asked those questions. At the end of the interview, though, he said “Well, we’ll set up another interview tomorrow. Think of some questions that you might have so we can talk about it tomorrow.” I was sorta disappointed. I didn’t have any more questions.

I got in my car on the way out, and I called one of my college professors, the one I always turn to when I have questions about theatre stuff. He’s pretty good with that kind of stuff. So I call him, and I ask him for some advice, for some kinds of questions I can ask that would, I dunno, make me look smart.

His response? “Ask about things you want out of a program, not just what’s required. Don’t ask about how many classes you can cut, or how much it costs, or anything like that. Ask about what you want out of the program.”

I said, “But everything I want to do is everything I’m required to do! He’s already answered every question I’ve had so far! And on top of that, he answered everyone question I didn’t ask!”

He laughed. “I guess I can’t help you then.”

Boy, did I feel stupid walking back into that interview the next day with no questions up my sleeve.

Make no mistake, this is a huge move.  I’ve spent the past six years waiting to leave, but every time I tried, something pulled me back in.  I’d expound upon this some more, but I wrote an entire play dedicated to this situation, and I don’t feel like rehashing it much more.

Right now, I’m kind of in limbo.  I’m trying to further my theatrical career, but it’s difficult.  I have no idea where any of the local theatres are, but believe me, that’s one of the first things I’ll do.  I need a job, cause I have a lot of bills to pay and very little money.  And finally, I’m waiting to hear back regarding some graduate schools that I have applied to.

I had a very successful interview at a school last week.  I thoroughly enjoyed the trip, I loved the faculty, I asked a ton of questions (thanks for the tips, Scott!), and I was very impressed by the facilities.  The town itself is once again in the middle of nowhere.  The big differences is that this time, the town is ten times the size of my last hometown.

So, here’s to the future, to the next step.

Break a leg.

My parents believe that I’m wasting my time with theatre. Every time I call my grandmother, she says something along the lines of “Maybe you should try getting a real job.” My family has made this assumption that theatre is all fun and games, that it involves no actual work and focus and meaningful activity. A lawyer friend of mine derided the American public for grieving for Heath Ledger’s untimely death by saying “You guys are a bunch of idiots. You never knew the guy. Even the guy you think you knew, you didn’t know. He made a living pretending to be something else.” Yes, that’s what actors do, but there is more to it than simply pretending.

Theatre is a very hard industry to make a living in, I’ll grant you that. But people like Scott Walters and others are trying to come up with ways to help theatre artists make living wages while still producing their art. They’re challenging the base assumptions behind the status quo.

One of my favorite shows is Stargate SG-1. In that show’s first season, Daniel Jackson encounters an Ancient, an being who as ascended to a higher plane of existence (think the Buddhists’ Nirvana). Oma Desala, as the character is called, speaks in riddles to Daniel Jackson. One thing she says is “If you immediately know candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago.” Daniel has no idea what it means.

Ten seasons later, I think I’ve figured it out. If you immediately know candlelight is fire (i.e. without thinking about it), then the meal was cooked long ago (i.e. you had already decided the truth). If you immediately know evolution is false, without looking at the facts or thinking about it, then you’ve closed your mind to any alternatives. In this case, you’ve closed your mind to the truth.

If you immediately know theatre is a waste of time, then you’ve already decided theatre artists are lazy people, no better than beggars and hobos.

Don’t be my parents.
Open your eyes to the truth.
Explore the possibilities.

I’ve been asked a lot recently about my future. My parents are bugging me to get a job, and believe me, I’m trying to find one. I’ve come up with a series of plans and back-up plans to ensure that I get the future I want, but so far, things aren’t really working out.

Plan A: Apply to graduate schools, interview, and get accepted into a program. Finish the program, get some more professional experience, and direct/work professionally. My endgame is to wind up like Scott Walters, an old fogey in a cushy theatre professor job. (Just kidding, Mr. Walters. Sorta.)

Plan B: Should I not get accepted into grad school this year, find a job of some sort (whether teaching or something different). Work to pay the bills until next year when I can apply to a new round of grad school interviews and auditions. I will, of course, endeavor to stay involved in community and any professional theatre I can.

Plan C: Roll over and die. I’m hoping it doesn’t come to this.