Netflix: The Seductive Temptress

This is me not watching Netflix. Or any 'flix at all.

I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I'm kinda the queen of Netflix binge-watching. I mean, I was binge-watching Netflix before it was cool, which makes me a Netflix hipster, right?. While the general look of a mainstream hipster (Ha!) is tight jeans, old flannel shirts, and thick-rimmed glasses, the tell-tale look of a Netflix hipster is sweatpants, a zip-up hoodie, and no makeup.

I rock this look. (insert proud smirk)

There are few things that sound more relaxing and enjoyable than a whole load of episodes of some well-reviewed series just waiting to be watched on Netflix. I mean, picture it - my comfiest stretchy clothes, the best spot on the couch, a blanket within reach just in case, a beverage on the side table, a yummy snack to be eaten mindlessly and in excess…and a whole world of characters and plot twists. And with a quick click of the remote control, I'm off...

Yesterday, mere hours after making this crazy decision to not watch television for a month, I got an email from Netflix: "Christina, the final season of The Killing is now on Netflix!"

What?! NO! Not fair.

I just finished watching the first three season last week. Last week! The end of the third season left the detectives hanging in the middle of the case they'd been working on over the course of the whole season. What kind of torture is this??

Well, no kind. It's no kind of torture. I'll survive. I'll wait. Begrudgingly, at first anyway.

So…*sigh*…I came home from work yesterday, and I did not turn on the tv. I cleaned a little without the tv on in the background. I hung a picture on the wall without HGTV playing for unnecessary inspiration. I read my book…in silence. I went to an outdoor theatre production, came home again and did not fire up Netflix. I went to bed.

Christy-1; TV-0

Pull the Plug

I watch alot of tv. Like, ALOT.
I'm not proud of this, but I still do it. I watch it on purpose and for no reason at all. I watch it even when I don't want to watch it.
So, I'm going to try pulling the plug for a month. I'm going to try to not watch tv for all of August. I'm not going to go nuts about it - if someone posts a short video of something on Facebook, I'll probably watch it. I won't scream and run out of the room if I find a tv on somewhere. But I'm going to not turn it on for myself at home. I'll just find something else to do.
And, really, this could be awesome.
What will I do while I eat breakfast in the morning? Usually I watch The Tonight Show, recorded from the night before.
What will I do over my lunch? Usually I watch some sitcom saved on my DVR or whatever is on HGTV. No HGTV for a month!? breathe...holy crap.
And in the evening? I mean...wow. Maybe I'll cook. Or read all the books I've been meaning to get to. Maybe I'll go to bed at a decent time and be able to get up to go to the gym. Maybe I'll get RIPPED! Maybe I'll actually be off-book way before the specified "off-book" date for the shows I'm in. Maybe I'll learn at least one chord on the guitar I bought over a year ago and still haven't learned how to play.

Maybe I'll blog more.

When will I do all my snacking? And meal eating? And interneting? Will my couch miss me? It better.

But for real. I mean, wouldn't it be truly tragic if I got to old age - which, let's be honest, is not as far off as I'd like to think - and realized that I had not done so many things merely I wanted to find out if the couple on House Hunters bought the charming fixer-upper or the movin-in ready new construction?

Maybe I'm expecting more from this month than I should be. Maybe I'll fail and switch on the tv after one day. Maybe I won't.

Do You Believe in Magic

Magic.

It's the only explanation I can come up with for what happens to a theater space between the rehearsals and the first performance. I have been doing this for, ya know, a while now, and I am still amazed, both as an actor and an audience member, by the split realities taking place in one room when a play is in progress. It's like two alternate worlds have cozied up next to each other. They are sharing the same room but are still worlds away. I'm not (unsuccessfully) trying to be deep or poetic. I'm just trying to explain something that truly does delightfully baffle me.

Here's how it all goes down: During rehearsals, actors come into the theater each evening, dumping bags and coats on a seat in the house. They chatter, grab with they need to start rehearsal, fill up water bottles, go to the bathroom, etc. And then rehearsal begins, the actors moving between the house and the stage as required, the director and stage manager in the house watching and taking notes. While the show is being performed, at least for me, the space is clearly all one room. There is no barrier between the stage and the house.

But during performances, there IS a barrier! Not an actual physical barrier, but some kind of understood divide that exists between the stage and the first row of seats. As an actor, I know the audience is there. Actors are usually pretty in tune to the general vibe of the audience, sometimes even playing to each specific audiences' reactions. But while they are right there and maybe I can even see them, they are so far away. It's a fantastic split awareness - I'm in character and "in the moment" with my scene partner, but I'm aware of the many, many faces watching me from the other side of the shadows.

As an audience member, the same understanding exists. Depending on the theater, the first row seats could be within inches of the action on stage. If I'm in the first row, there have been times that the actors are close enough that I could reach out and touch them with very little effort. But I don't. Because while they are right there, they are so far away! They are in another world that I'm merely observing, dealing with a situation that I have become privy to without their knowing. If I did reach out to touch one of the characters, it seems as though my hand would likely slip right through them as though they were a projection on a wall of smoke.

If magic is to know logically what is true but to inexplicably believe what seems to be, then I believe in magic.

Let me also say, that I could write ALOT about freakish mysteries of a theater space...and I love it all, so I'm sure I'll get around to putting thought to keyboard eventually.

13.1 Miles in 113 Days...GULP!

Truth talk: I haven't run in SO LONG! Months...I'm so ashamed. Don't look at me - just turn away.

I have excuses...sort of. I've been in shows pretty much constantly since last July, and, while any show takes up a good amount of the free time I have outside of work, some of these shows were also rather physically demanding. So, I didn't run.

(Maybe if I'd been running all along, those shows wouldn't have been quite so physically demanding...)

And I was working and taking college classes and working on a few design projects and I had to walk my dog and occasionally clean my house and blah blah blah...and I didn't run.

*Sigh*

But, months ago I did myself the kindest favor of registering for a half marathon on Labor Day weekend. So, about 4 months from now, I have to run 13.1 miles...and, presumably, be alive at the end of it. And, I'm thinking, ya know, it's probably about time I start getting ready.

Also, I announced this endeavor to all of Facebook, which probably no one remembers, but I remember. So, if I don't get on track now, I will be too late to do so at all, and I will have thoroughly shamed myself via social media...and in real life, too.

This week, then, I have found myself having a bit of a oh-crap realization that I need to get off my butt and start running. So, I really got in gear: I read some articles on the Runner's World website; I perused the women's athletic clothing at Target; I laid out an entire training schedule; I considered a pair of Merrill shoes at Scheels...I went to a couple auditions; I painted my fingernails; and I became the master of Pinterest...and of the world. No, not really. But, I could...if I really wanted to.

And I logged zero miles.

It's always the first run after a long break that hurts the worst. It's the most humiliating and eye-opening. I'm so out of shape. And everyone knows it. But, it has it's good points as well. I like running, which I become keenly aware of when I'm doing it. ...throat clearing...right, obviously. I don't know what it is in me that tells me that I don't want to run when, really, I do. I DO want to run. There are so many good reasons to run, and I like that those reasons exist. But, when it comes right down to it, I just like it.

So, I'm going for a run tomorrow morning. It won't be pretty, and it won't be fast - but who cares about that anyway? : )

I've Got the Pink Blues

I'm always so sad after a show ends. It just seems so bizarre - we spend hours, weeks, and even months preparing for a performance. We often put other parts of our lives on hold and sink our sweat, blood, and tears into the role that we're creating. (No kidding - that often happens.) We work closely with people who we've possibly never met before and build some pretty great friendships as a result. And then the show opens, and it's wonderful and exciting. People come to see it; hopefully, they love it.


And then it's over.


The set disappears within a couple hours. The costumes are disassembled. The cast and crew goes on with their lives, doing other shows with new people and new characters. And that thing that we worked so hard for...it becomes only a memory. So, it just makes me sad. I know theatre is transient; it never stays the same, it never lasts forever. And that is an integral quality of theatre that makes it what it is. And it's a quality that I love...but also hate.


I miss my characters. They are fictional, of course, but they become very real to me as I attempt to give them a voice and a body. I miss my cast mates, who I've spent so much time with during the course of rehearsal and performances. I miss the security and guidance of the director. I miss the excitement and nervous energy that comes with each performance.


Of course, I get over the sadness soon enough. I will move on to another show. (I'll remember that I haven't really cleaned my house since rehearsals started.) The memories will remain, but they'll fade just enough to be no longer tangible and quietly slide away from the forefront of my mind.


I'm writing all this at 6:30am on the morning after strike for Pinkalicous the Musical, and at the moment, I'm right in the midst of my Show's Over Blues. (Which means I'm being maybe a little over dramatic, but what the hey.)


Some shows are just special for one reason or another, and this was a special show for me for a few reasons. I love doing children's theatre. It's just a blast. And I remember going to my first play when I was a kid and how much I loved it, so I hope I helped to give that same experience to the children that came to see this show. I got to have pink hair, which might seem silly, but I absolutely LOVED it.  : ) I got to perform with some extremely talented and wonderful people who I will most certainly miss.


...and I sang in public...something I never thought I'd do. That was a huge hurdle for me. I wasn't always perfect, but I did it.


It was all wonderful, and now it's over.  And I just needed to pout about it a little bit.
But, I'm a big girl, and as Fergie says, "Big girls don't cry."  : )

I Can Only Imagine

I love the trail that I run on.  It's a beautiful little trail that runs along Lake Minnetonka for a little ways and is mostly tree-covered.  It's well kept and well used and a lovely place to spend a few of life's miles.  If I were a painter, I'd try to paint a landscape of what I see when I step out my door for a run.  At first it would be a little Norman Rockwell-ish and then it might become rather more like a Bob Ross, with happy little trees and happy little rocks here and there.  But I'm not a painter, so this will have to do.

When I first step out the door, I generally pause to stretch my legs and then I'm off.  I run past the dentist office and barber shop right next door, past the house with the year-round yard sale.  I go by the old, creepy-looking duplex that nearly constantly has a For Rent sign in front of one side of the house and almost as constantly has old furniture with a FREE sign in the yard of the other side.  I go by the BP gas station, where the employees have now come to recognize me when I run past and will keep me accountable when I stop in if they haven't seen me go by in a few days.  I run past the post office and dash through the insane six-way intersection.  Insane for Excelsior, anyway.   This intersection is somewhat like an initiation for anyone entering town who is not from Excelsior.  I know of people who will go out of their way to come into town from the other direction in order to avoid this particular intersection.  It's an all-way stop, and one thing I've learned about Minnesota drivers is that no one knows how to work an all-way stop intersection.  Either no one wants to go or everyone wants to go, and generally everyone gets squinty-eyed trying to read the expression of the other drivers so as not to offend anyone before accelerating - craziness, I tell you.  Thankfully, as I'm not operating a motor vehicle, I can simply dash across the two streets I have to get through as long as there are no cars waiting on those sides.  I run past Maynards and Bayview - two restaurants on the lake.  For my own convenience, I'm going to pull a Hollywood name mash-up and call these two restaurants Mayview for the time being.  Depending on the time of day, getting past Mayview can be far more chaotic than getting through the six-way intersection.  Both restaurants have limited parking and most of the parking they do have is valet.  In the morning, it's no problem at all.  If I run after work or in the evening, though, I feel like the frog in the game Frogger.  Run, stop, wait for a car, run a couple more steps, stop, the driver waives me by, run, stop, wait for the valet to move the car, run, stop, give someone directions, then run the last few steps to freedom!  Geesh.  But it was all worth it because I've finally reached the trail, my quiet place.  I turn off the side walk and onto the trail, and it's like I've entered another world - a much more peaceful and quiet world.  Everything I see as I run down the trail are like pictures you might see hanging in a doctor's office.  I run past the marina.  I run over the foot bridge, and I can hear the sound of my hollow footsteps echoing below me.  The view of the bay from the bridge is fantastic, no matter what time of year.  Right now, the bay is full of sail boats and motor boats and yachts.  It's quite a sight, and somewhere in the midst of all those big, shiny boats is a little, tiny fishing boat that belongs to the Nix's.  Like a shack in the middle of a neighborhood of mansions, but it's a good little shack...um, boat, so who cares.
There are three points on the trail that I would say are my favorites.  The first is a set of trees that grow on either side of the path.  They aren't really huge trees.  They grow right across from each other and sort of bend toward one another, as though they are leaning.  Maybe I'll name them Sandra Bullock and Bill Pullman.  The frame that these two trees create as I approach them is subtle but amazing.  I feel like I'm entering the pages of a book as I run past them.  Also, they always make me think of Robert Frost's poem The Road Not Taken, and I don't necessarily know why because it is a single path.  There isn't a fork in the road anywhere along the trail...maybe there should be.  Anyway, I go past Sandra and Bill, past the Old Log Theatre, and around the very tree-covered curve that is dark even in daylight.  Then I get to a point where I once saw a rabbit and turtle on the trail at the same time within about 10 feet of one another.  I'm sure you recognize the significance of this as I did - Aesop's The Tortoise and the Hare!  Turns out they are not fabled but live on the trail in Excelsior, Minnesota.  And if you ask me, it looked like the tortoise was in the lead.
I run past several large houses on the lake and then I get to my absolutely favorite part of the trail.  I run for a ways under trees and behind houses, but then the trees break and the trail comes out running right along the lake for about 200 yards.  I love those 200 yards.  The view of the lake is unbelievable.  I'm well beyond the bay at this point so aside from an occasional fishing boat, it's just me looking out over water and sky.  It's breathtaking.  When I used to listen to my ipod while running, I'd try to time a particular song in my playlist to this point on the trail - I Can Only Imagine by Mercy Me:


   Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
   Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still
   Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
   Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
   I can only imagine


Once I've passed this point on the trail, I've just about reached the four mile turn around.  I pass by everything again, heading home.  
There are many reasons to run, but it has to be something more than fitness to keep a person stepping out each day to run for years and years and a lifetime.  There is solitude, stillness, clarity of thought, rejuvenation, and worship woven into those miles and breathes.  The rhythm of footfalls and breathing re-aligns thoughts and makes sense of things that make no sense in the rush of day-to-day activities. 

 In this life, we will never know what it was like to be in the Garden of Eden, but if anything could be like those walks with God in the cool of the day, I think it would be going for a run. 

Nothing Naturally

I am not really what I would consider an athlete.  I do like running, and sometimes, I can even be sort of good at it, but, in general, I am not naturally athletically bent.  If one were to ponder the similarities between sports and theatre, it could be reasonably concluded that improvisation is the most "athletic" of theatrical forms.  Also, improv is a bit terrifying to me, so that also leads me to believe that it must have some kind of parallel to sports.  How are they similar?  Both require immediate reaction as opposed to thoughtful response or rehearsed presentation.  When I played basketball in highschool...ah, the memories...one thing I hated about it was that we had these plays that we practiced but, really, in a game the ball was flying from person to person and the players were jumping and weaving and faking to the right and left so fast that my little brain had no idea what was going on!  Can we just slow down and calmly consider what the next move should be?!  That, apparently, is just not how sports work - unless you're a long-distance runner.  Bless the dear person who first thought that running from one point to another without having to do anything with a ball was sufficient to be called "sport". 

I'm a muller - I like to consider, ponder, chew on a topic before diving in or speaking up.  I love the lead up to a performance - the rehearsal, research, character breakdown, backstory, etc.  I tend to do quite a bit of rehearsing on my own outside of rehearsal - I rehearse to rehearse to perform.  So, "get up on stage and make it up as you go" is a wholly baffling concept to me.  Why?!  Why would I want to subject myself to sure discomfort and utter vulnerability?!  When I was in high school basketball, I managed to get into the HDUB Club - Humiliating Display of Unathletic Behavior - by almost making a basket for the other team.  I didn't quite achieve elite membership as I didn't actually make the basket for the other team - the referee blew the whistle and burst my bubble of delusion before that could happen, but membership in the HDUB Club on any level is rather exclusive.  But my point is - because I do have one - is that moment, when I got the ball and went driving down the court towards the wrong basket, I was reacting - not thinking, not pondering, not mulling - and look what happened.  

Despite my fear of improv, though, I do really love it.  Whatever kind of nuts that makes me, I don't know.  It's in the moment and honest and, if you can forget that you're an adult for two seconds, it's really fun!  I had to read a book in college for one of my acting classes called Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind by Shunryu Suzuki.  To be honest, I didn't know what my professor was thinking when he assigned this book - or maybe I didn't know what I was thinking when I tried to write a paper on it  - but it actually speaks to improv really well!  Here's a passage that I had underlined: 

"You should not have your own idea when you listen to someone.  Forget what you have in your mind and just listen to what he says.  To have nothing in your mind is naturalness."  

My first response is to say something childish about naturally having nothing in your mind - heehee - but, really, that's one thing I think is so great about improv...AND running.  Whoa!  Way to circle back!  Improv gives you the opportunity to have nothing else in your mind, listen to your scene partner, and simply respond naturally.  There's a little more to it than that, but from my very limited experience, that is a significant part of it.  Running also provides a respite from all the to-do's going on in your day.  I often feel like I'm thinking of 50 things at one time and trying to get them all right, but to be able to think of only one thing...it's, it's inconceivable!  It's an opportunity not to be missed.  And isn't it odd that something that makes me so uncomfortable also makes me so happy.  

I will continue to hone my game when it comes to improv...I look forward to it...basketball, I'm quite certain, will always be the hidden talent that never was and nevermore will be.