A Miracle Moment

Yesterday, I was at Camp Pendleton, the Marine base here in Southern California. My mother dragged me to attend the Mercy Me concert there, which I (being non-christian) thought was going to be a total drag.
Boy, was I wrong.

First I met the little squirt in the photo. His daddy just returned from Afghanistan on Friday, and I got a chance to clown at this kid for quite a long time. He laughed so hard... So wonderful.

The concert went on, I know a few of the songs, I was dancing out in the sand like a maniac like I usually do when music is playing...
And then the musicians said a prayer, and started us off singing Amazing Grace. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

Hundreds of hardened men and women, softened for a moment..... crying and kneeling and singing Amazing Grace.

It was breathtaking. I wish you could have seen it.

MISSING BURNER! Take a look!

burncast.blogspot.com/2009/07...kin.html

Well, I just got stood up.

And I'm hormonal and I cannot stop crying.

Hey, Tribe. What's up?

Contessa Designs. Rant #1

Dear Contessa,

At what point in your career did you decide that it would be an excellent idea to, say, apply for a design job? And then you got it, and you accepted? And then you thought, "Oh, Piece of cake!"
You know you can't draw. You're a painter! So you decide to build a model. But WAIT! You can't drive, and there are no art stores withing biking distance. So, you look around your home..... Cardboard.

Great job, Contessa, You're about to build a model of a theatre using.... CARDBOARD.

So you clean the house, upload a few photos, make some rice, and now you're ready. You pull out your trusty T-Square, your Sultry Scale-Rule, and sit down. The cat is climbing the bird cage-- it's a wonderful distraction.

You eat the rice, rescue the birds, lights some insence and now?

....... TRIBE!

Crap, you guys. WHAT AM I DOING?

*Deep breath*

Wish me luck.

My new theatrical adventures!

Hello, Hello.

First and foremost, a new troupe is coming into fruition! " Clownz on 3rd"..... a troupe of clowns performing on the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica. I got to design the logo and do some rather ornate placards, and I will start performing soon! It's not taking up too much of my time (besides the 12 hours yesterday) and it's AWESOME. Contessa's little clown is back in town!

Second.... is my designing for Oliver! Now, the director is one of those who has a very specific layout that he threw on me the second I walked into the production meeting... This goes here, two doors here, flat here, this there, specific storefront here, etc. Now comes the negotiations. I've only been to a production meeting in the Asst. Directors chair, so I'm anxious to see how I fight for my artistic influence. It doesn't look like it'll amount to much, and after stopping in at rehearsal today, the SHOW doesn't look like it'll amount to much. Then again, I never know. I don't care that much about how the show turns out.... so long as it looks good. That's my job.

The transition from "Diva" status to designer is overwhelmingly positive. The limelight isn't necessarily for me all the time-- and I've had a season with show after show of being in it. I really rather enjoy stepping back and doing hard work... I don't like the attention and rules that being the diva can put on you.
Plus, uh, I'm designing! Dream come true!


Other than that, I spend my days shoo-ing off toothless suitors.

That is theatre, truly.

So that's the update.
Off to get out my drafting supplies and do a preliminary ground plan! Yaaaaaaaaay! THEATRE YAAAAAAY!

Coming "Home"

This is the last time I will ever come home to this house.
It is so hard to leave such an Idyllic society, where creation reigns and I'm free to make art and pray all I wish...
to come here. A town of trailer parks, Chicken Farms, and a Denny's. I come home to the news that, two days prior, my home had been broken in to. I come home to find that my elder sister, 22, who I share a room with, is committing the same serious crime that I fell victim to, and had to go through years of therapy for. The SAME EXACT THING. I can't eat, I can't sleep. She's my sister, and I love her, but my Post Traumatic Stress is taking it's toll, and I've gone to my mom about it. The fact that I'm living with someone willingly doing to another person what has been done to me is ridiculous, and I should not have to do it. And yet, here I am. I do not want to cause any more drama in my family, so I'm keeping as quiet as possible about it, but REALLY?! I can't believe that she, after seeing what it did to me or years, could do this to someone.

I'm heading off to college in the fall--- but I come of age in March. Come the 11th day of March, all my things will be moved from this house.

It's a glimmer of hope, yes, but for the next three months, until September 7th, I'm going to have to figure out a way to cope.
Already it's weird. Last night I was sitting out front, and a car slowed down and drove by my house upwards of 5 times, back and forth.
My mother thinks it has to do with my sister.

I don't care that she's putting MY life in danger, but my little brother and sister live here, too. They're 10 and 14. This is NOT ok, and I'm beseeching my mother to do something about it.... and I haven't even been home for 24 hours yet.

On another note, I've just got the design job. I'm designing "Oliver!"-- The very first time I was onstage, I played Nancy.
Now I get to frame her. I'm so excited, I'm getting together a visual file right now.

What's going to save me? Of course. Theatre. It always does.

Graduation today!

MAde my speech last night at Bachlaureatureua (howevver it is spelled)
I've been rather decorated with awards lately- something I never expected after causing so much mischeif.
Outstanding prefect.
Passion for the Arts award/CHECK (Who knew money came with this? Hooooray college tuition)
Theatre Senior Award
And Student speaker

Today is graduation, and notoriously it's a hilarious event. We don't take ANYTHING seriously, I swear it. I'm cutting my gown into a tribal costume, complete with all my decoration.
Hell yes

Off to my last meal here, after four years.

I feel like I'm just going to explode all over everything, ever.

1st draft of my baccalaureate speech... have a read?

The topic I was given?
Artists as leaders in the 21st century.

The fact that I'm a crazy barefoot gypsy living on the top of a mountain in the middle of a forest is VERY apparent in this, as is the fact that I've been reading Rob Brezny.
But here it is. The very first, stream of consciousness, I don't really care if this makes sense version of my speech.

This is a perfect moment. We are being showered with blessings an inspiration, we are crossing a threshold into a new battle ground. We are waking up. We, the artists of today, face a most exhilarating challenge: We are in charge of creating a brand new world-- and not is some distinct time or place-- it's here, and it's now. We dance on the brink of it, and we've got some decisions to make.
The 21st century is astounding. Our leaders lead with destruction, lies, and chaos. The people can't trust their government, the government refuses to trust its people, and both parties are constantly tearing each other down. We were even given a leader with the letters H-O-P-E plastered across his face... and look at us. The violence is still there, the fear is still prominent, and a new order is being called for. We are lucky to be arriving on the scene in a vastly discontented 21st century: People, Human Beings are willing and wanting of change, of something more. We, as artists, must give it to them. Everyone else leads through destruction: it is our task to lead with creation. We must life lives teeming with desperate curiosity, compassion, love and beauty.
It would be both selfish and odd to say that this is the world's plea to the class of 2009 at Idyllwild Arts.... but then again, who says we aren't capable of it? Is that not what the Academy is supposed to foster? And so I'll address the students; past, present and future. My fellow creators, since you and I are in charge of establishing a new worlds, where do we begin? What facts will we hold as self evident? What questions will form our prophecies?
We must ignore the hatred and destruction that so easily comes with power and the public eye, and instead embrace all the beauty available to praise and create. We must both know ourselves and convince others that life is crazily, desperately and wildly in love with us. We must not give in to the people who both believe in and seemingly work for a life of strive and suffering. We must show them that to be alive on this majestical earth is a blessing-- it is THE blessing. We must laugh with the naïve notions of sin and evil. They are nothing. We must find a way to lead the world into love. We are waking up. You are alive because of love: Evil is boring. Negativity is laziness.
And so, students, families, Class of 2009. Close your eyes, and envision a giant, blank, canvas. We wall work with our own form of one nearly every day. Now, they days themselves are giant, blank canvases, and you must paint them for the world to view. Artists are coming into the public eye. Such is the nature of the 21st century. Look at your canvas.
What will you create, knowing that the world is watching?

LOST at RPFS! RED CLOWN NOSE.

I can't believe it.
I feel so powerless right now. It's like cutting off Sampson's hair-- I lost my clown nose sometime after chatting with a Scot near FOF. I could not be more devastated.
It's one inch in diameter or so. Plastic, Red. It's my nose.

I'm a clown without her nose.

I'm pretty much about to cry.

This is ridiculous.

And hopeless.

Boarding School... for f*cktards.

I go to boarding school.
I go to an arts boarding school.
I go to a boarding school where we spend 4 hours a day in academics, then 10 hours studying our declared art major. I wish I was kidding.
I go to a boarding school that costs 50,000 dollars a year and attracts druggies, rich angsty teens, and a few artists here and there.

Every year at this boarding school, we break out of the dorms on one night near the end of the year and play cat and mouse with the adults, and usually all end up having a drum circle or singing the Beatles in the amplitheatre at 1 am.

Not so. Last night, it wasn't going to happen, but one of the dorms jumped the gun and soon everyone was running CRAZY around the campus. We (the prefects) hadn't had a chance to tell everyone what was going to happen, so there was no organization, and A LOT of angst.

Hoses were put on the electrical boxes of the theatre and other buildings. Classrooms looked as though a tornado had ripped through them. The dining hall was covered in honey and soy sauce. The administration building had honey mustard dressing, toilet paper, and clay stuck to it. Someone's film reel was strung across the street. Everyone was naked for some reason. The campus REEKED of weed. Our soccer goal (not that we use it much at art school) was about 300 feet east and 20 feet higher than it should have been. I'll let you use some imagination as to where it ended up. Toilet paper, overturned trash cans, broken glass, broken ceramics. This truly must be art school where we destroy our home and each other's art.
Unfortunately, being a prefect, we sent all the kids to bed.... then about 8 of us were up into the wee hours of the morning cleaning up the campus. We were cold, wet, and VERY VERY cranky.

I do not understand how we, the kids who are supposed to be leaders in creation, compassion, and a love of art could do so much destruction so willingly in under an hour.
It scares me. These are kids, 14-20, who are SO ANGRY that they can lift two hundred pounds of metal onto roof, steal vehicles, and break into our precious performance and practice spaces.

Coming from a family of 7 who had NOTHING.... this place has been HEAVEN for me for four long years. What teenager gets college-level arts training, and great facilities.... and gets to live on the top of a mountain in the middle of a forest? This is the most amazing place, and everyone was so quick to ruin it.


I'm trying VERY VERY hard not to mention this in my graduation speech, which they were dumb enough to let me do. What school would let a clown have 15 minutes in front of hundreds of people without fear of losing her diploma?


That brings me to the topic I have to speak of
"Artists as leaders in the 21st century".

Such promising young artists HERE, folks.

Rant done.