No time or energy to do a blog post right now- I'm too IN IT to be able to analyze what I'm doing. The show opens tomorrow (today?) and I could not be more excited. I feel so proud- both of the kids that I've gotten to know so well and love so much, and of myself, for becoming exactly the assistant director that I wanted to become: a true support system for the kid, for the tech crew, and for the director. Not to mention, a resource and an actual valuable contributing assistant.
I can't wait for tomorrow.
Things to blog about next time I blog:
1.) My direct effect on the cast/production
2.) The cast dynamic
3.) The effect of the production on the group and on individuals within the group
4.) Skills that I have picked up
5.) Thoughts about my future/possible teaching qualifications?
6.) Finish Gender/Equality/Sexism Post
7.) Talk about leadership for Hashomer/Hanhaga
8.) Things that I learned this semester/what I will take with me/how I will use it.
GOLLY. We'll see tomorrow. I have a lot of cheerleaders coming to show their support, including my parents. And it makes me feel good. I want the people that I love to see this one, even though I'm not in it, even though it's nothing professional. I want them to see it because I loved working on it, and because I took ownership over it and I made my mark on it, and because it's the first example of what I'm going to be doing for a very long time, and because I feel very proud and I want to share what I helped to build. And part of me wants my hard work to be recognized by the important people in my life. I don't need the pat on the back, but having the acknowledgment will be the green icing on the already frosted cake.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
the 'Race' to find answers
Race is my favorite topic. Gender is one of my other favorite topics, and I'll be tackling that one in a more private blog post that I won't be posting (but I will be sending to my advisors, when it's finito.) These are my favorite topics to discuss and to think about because they make me infinitely uncomfortable. I love to feel uncomfortable. I like to have discussions that take me so far out of my comfort zone that I'm physically sweating. It's not that I enjoy the physical discomfort, it's more that I take pleasure in learning and the best way to learn is by reading about, thinking about, and debating about topics that are generally perceived to be 'taboo,' hence why "Speaking the Unspoken" (the class I took with Viveca Greene in the fall) was my favorite class of all time. Talking about race makes me uncomfortable because one part of me is anxious to say what's on my mind because saying it is the only way to have discussions and ask questions and maybe even get closer to answers, and the other part of me is nervous to say something offensive. The boundaries are so unclear that it's difficult to speak about without offending someone. So here goes.
At the beginning of the semester, I realized that I was plunging myself into an atmosphere that I was unfamiliar with and a type of experience that I haven't ever had before. I was also well aware that LoMA is very racially diverse and that I, as a Caucasian, Jewish wo-girl (I say this because, to quote Britney Spears, I'm not girl, not yet a women...although I'm getting there), would be in the minority. I've been in this position before. For the first two and a half years of high school, I attended Albany High, a very large, public high school where the majority of the students were African-American. It was an interesting (and scary) experience for me, plunging into this huge, racially diverse school, after attending 5 years of a very small, Jewish private day school.
Although I was born in Philadelphia, I spent my childhood in a small town in Western Mass (Sheffield, right outside of Great Barrington, where my father was a Rabbi.) From there, we moved to an apartment complex in a town outside of Albany, NY that was pretty diverse. There, I made friends with the Pakistani kids who lived upstairs and got my first taste of a new and unfamiliar culture, but the school that I attended was mostly Caucasian, upper-middle-class, and Christian. I, as a less-than-wealthy, Jewish girl with extremely liberal parents, was an outsider in this environment. I expected to feel more at home when I transferred to the Jewish dayschool, but even there, I felt like an outsider. We were Reconstructionist Jews, not Conservative or Orthodox Jews, and my parents were eccentric. They went to anti-war protests. My mother had a dance company called the Older Women's Project, where women her age and older danced out their life stories and supported each other, making a community of like-minded 'wild women.' My father was, at the time, making electronic musical instruments out of traditional, religious artifacts, like the 'shofar,' the ram's horn that we blow on the High Holy Days, and playing them in concerts that sounded more like general noise to the untrained ear than music. People didn't understand us. When I got to high school, I expected to find my niche. I was excited about the diversity and intrigued by it and eager to make friends of all races and ethnicities, cultures and backgrounds. Instead, I found myself in the minority once again and somewhat of an outcast. I made friends but not a lot of close ones, and I often felt like I was being pushed into playing out the role of the white, nerdy, Jewish girl that I was expected to be, and all around me, I felt like I was watching other racial stereotypes being played out in an over-the-top, almost absurdist fashion. It felt almost like going to Albany High made me feel racist, rather than helping a lot of different races and cultures learn and work together in an open and accepting environment. I left Albany High School for boarding school in the middle of my junior year because I felt like I wanted to learn in a smaller, more liberal, more communal setting. I left with some strange perceptions of race, not feeling like I had encountered any situations in my life in which I was the accepted majority. I felt like a minority of sorts. I felt like I had had racism directed towards me. I was made fun of all the time at AHS. I carried a rolling backpack. I walked fast in the hallways. I was short. I was Jewish. I answered questions in class. People were always making fun of me for being "that white girl." It's an interesting thing, feeling defensive about racism. I felt defensive because I felt racism being directed towards me and I felt defensive because I had racist thoughts and I didn't know what was right and what was wrong and what thoughts were mine and what were programmed in my head from a young age. And to be honest, I still don't really know.
I thought that this semester would be one during which I evaluated the inner workings of racial politics within the microcosm of a high school theatre ensemble. Did I do that? Not really. I was prepared to be dealing with race in a direct way, every day. I expected to have strong feelings. Have I? Not really. But wait...perhaps I HAVE been dealing with race in an INdirect way, every day.
I'm used to noticing when I'm speaking to someone of a race different than mine. The interesting thing that happened was that after the first week of working with the kids, I no longer thought about their races. I stopped classifying them and catagorizing them by their race. I stopped trying to pigeonhole them. I didn't think, 'oh, that's ---, the spunky Dominican girl who's a fantastic singer.' I just thought of them as people. Teenagers. Kids. Fun. People that I respect and that I like. The race no longer was a barrier in my eyes nor was it something that I actively took note of. But the question is...is that a good thing? Is that the ultimate goal? Are we trying to get to a point where we don't see racial differences, or would the real goal be to get to a place where we are comfortable seeing and acknowledging the differences and accepting our histories, talking about them, and moving forward together? Maybe it would be best to be in a place where we can all say, Hey, we're different. We are. We've had different pasts. We might come from different backgrounds. Our families probably have different traditions. But we're similar. We're human. We feel and think and love all the same. Maybe the only way to be truly free of any lingering racist tendencies or thoughts is to confront them head on instead of ignoring them and trying to move past them without confrontation. I'm not saying that I should have used the kids at my work to make a bigger statement about racism in America. I'm just saying that maybe the next time I do something like this, I approach it differently. Or maybe not. I suppose I don't really know.
I've noticed a behavioral habit in myself in the past few months. I somewhat alter the manifestation of my personality in different scenarios to make other people feel more comfortable. I've noticed that at work I will (somewhat consciously, somewhat unconsciously) choose to think cautiously about the way that I speak, my body language, and the way that I interact. Mostly the way that I speak. I noticed right off the bat that the kids at work make fun of the way I talk as playing into their idea of a "white, Jewish girl." Although I'm not particularly preppy or stuck up and I never thought that I spoke like a 'valley girl,' I've recently noticed some mannerisms in myself that are somewhat affected. I say 'like' a lot, and I'm sometimes very ditzy. I noticed that the kids at work really pick up on these mannerisms, and they tend to dwell on them, so that I feel somewhat like a caricature of myself at times. Then, I choose to either watch how I speak and try to avoid sparking any reminders of racial stereotypes, OR I choose to play these up for the amusement of the kids. I'll say something that's particularly ditzy or I'll skip in a circle, singing. They pick up on these, and I think they find comfort in seeing a racial stereotype manifested in real life that is familiar to them. Just as picked up on what I perceived to be "people playing to their stereotypes" at Albany High, I now see that when I'm put into that position, I will act as I'm expected to act. It's almost easier to fit into a mold rather than trying to be something less defined and more ambiguous, i.e. myself. Are people who identify as racial minorities, such as African-Americans or Hispanic people, playing to their stereotypes? Under what circumstances would it become socially acceptable for these facades to be dropped? What sort of cultural and ethical make over would we, as human beings and, more importantly, as Americans, need to go through to make it safe for us all to be ourselves? How do we even know who that is? After all that we've been through, what are we without our stereotypes?
I have this problem with getting frustrated because I feel like my feelings or thoughts or ideas are cliched. I know that all thoughts and feelings and ideas are, by nature, unoriginal, but I just wish that I could make a statement and feel like it's unique. But anyway, in the topic of race, I'm not ready to be making any sort of big statements at all. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I'm usually just so afraid to offend anyone that I try not to express any definitive opinions or thoughts. Which is sort of how I actually feel. I really don't know what I think and my thoughts are always changing and always being influenced by the people around me and encounters and experiences that I have. I suppose it's a good thing that I allow my opinions to be swayed and my perceptions of race to be constantly changing. I suppose all I can really do is keep having these thoughts and not let myself do what seems easiest, i.e. clam up and stop talking about it.
On a lighter note: Last week, I realized that I had worked on a show almost an entire semester without actually touching the 'acting parts.' I was supposed to direct a scene, but it didn't pan out because the show doesn't really lend itself to multiple directors. Instead, I focused my time on working intensively on fundraising and creating the program and observing rehearsals. I decided I needed to find a way to get my creative voice heard, metaphorically speaking, so I asked the director if I could lead a character building exercise for the kids. I spent hours planning this activity that borrowed some aspects of 'Viewpoints,' some things from Rust and Dust rehearsals, and some thoughts and beliefs of my own. And it was the most enjoyable few hours I've had in a while. I found that I loved planning the activity, I loved thinking really critically about exactly what should happen in my activity, how it should pan out, what the end result should be, how they should be feeling throughout, how it should effect them and their development. I loved it. And I could totally see myself doing it in the future. I love theatre and I love group process and, god, they just work together. I want to make kids feel passionate about things, and I want to make them excited and I want to make them good at things all at the same time. The cast of A Chorus Line has been having trouble making character choices on their own. Part of that I think stems from the fact that they haven't had much acting coaching throughout the process. There hasn't been much time for it. So I led them through a sort of guided, character building, movement meditation that was supposed to take them on a journey into the bodies of their characters. I was nervous about it because it was going to require a lot of focus and quiet and respect, all things that they've been having trouble with in recent rehearsals. But they were totally great! They listened and cooperated and totally went along with it, even though it was conceptual and weird and intended to be (pardon my french) a bit of a 'mind fuck.' I didn't see a huge difference in their run through that day, but they really need more than one coaching, so I wasn't worried. I was mostly ecstatic that they were able to get into the bodies and minds of their characters for the length of my exercise and that they respected it and took me seriously. And afterwards, one girl asked me for help learning her lines and the director allowed me to make notes at the end of their run through. I really feel like I've shown what I'm capable of doing. I can do the logistical stuff (fundraising, etc), I can make a playbill, I can act, dance and sing when they need me to fill in for a missing actor, I can teach the kids things, I can joke around, I can improve each actor's individual performance, as well as help to improve the group's performance on the whole. I'm very proud of myself and my work, and I like being taken seriously.
It's late again. And I have strep throat. I didn't mention that. This has been quite the rollercoaster year for my immune system. I just wanna tell it to CHILL OUT. My immune system, that is. Good night and look out for a personal post about my recent thoughts regarding my work and gender issues/sexism/self.
You've been very patient readers.
Allison
P.S.- part of me wants to say that I hope I didn't offend---but the other part of me wants to say that everything I say, I say for a reason, and that is to help me learn and grow, so I need to just let myself say these things and stop second guessing my thoughts and emotions.
At the beginning of the semester, I realized that I was plunging myself into an atmosphere that I was unfamiliar with and a type of experience that I haven't ever had before. I was also well aware that LoMA is very racially diverse and that I, as a Caucasian, Jewish wo-girl (I say this because, to quote Britney Spears, I'm not girl, not yet a women...although I'm getting there), would be in the minority. I've been in this position before. For the first two and a half years of high school, I attended Albany High, a very large, public high school where the majority of the students were African-American. It was an interesting (and scary) experience for me, plunging into this huge, racially diverse school, after attending 5 years of a very small, Jewish private day school.
Although I was born in Philadelphia, I spent my childhood in a small town in Western Mass (Sheffield, right outside of Great Barrington, where my father was a Rabbi.) From there, we moved to an apartment complex in a town outside of Albany, NY that was pretty diverse. There, I made friends with the Pakistani kids who lived upstairs and got my first taste of a new and unfamiliar culture, but the school that I attended was mostly Caucasian, upper-middle-class, and Christian. I, as a less-than-wealthy, Jewish girl with extremely liberal parents, was an outsider in this environment. I expected to feel more at home when I transferred to the Jewish dayschool, but even there, I felt like an outsider. We were Reconstructionist Jews, not Conservative or Orthodox Jews, and my parents were eccentric. They went to anti-war protests. My mother had a dance company called the Older Women's Project, where women her age and older danced out their life stories and supported each other, making a community of like-minded 'wild women.' My father was, at the time, making electronic musical instruments out of traditional, religious artifacts, like the 'shofar,' the ram's horn that we blow on the High Holy Days, and playing them in concerts that sounded more like general noise to the untrained ear than music. People didn't understand us. When I got to high school, I expected to find my niche. I was excited about the diversity and intrigued by it and eager to make friends of all races and ethnicities, cultures and backgrounds. Instead, I found myself in the minority once again and somewhat of an outcast. I made friends but not a lot of close ones, and I often felt like I was being pushed into playing out the role of the white, nerdy, Jewish girl that I was expected to be, and all around me, I felt like I was watching other racial stereotypes being played out in an over-the-top, almost absurdist fashion. It felt almost like going to Albany High made me feel racist, rather than helping a lot of different races and cultures learn and work together in an open and accepting environment. I left Albany High School for boarding school in the middle of my junior year because I felt like I wanted to learn in a smaller, more liberal, more communal setting. I left with some strange perceptions of race, not feeling like I had encountered any situations in my life in which I was the accepted majority. I felt like a minority of sorts. I felt like I had had racism directed towards me. I was made fun of all the time at AHS. I carried a rolling backpack. I walked fast in the hallways. I was short. I was Jewish. I answered questions in class. People were always making fun of me for being "that white girl." It's an interesting thing, feeling defensive about racism. I felt defensive because I felt racism being directed towards me and I felt defensive because I had racist thoughts and I didn't know what was right and what was wrong and what thoughts were mine and what were programmed in my head from a young age. And to be honest, I still don't really know.
I thought that this semester would be one during which I evaluated the inner workings of racial politics within the microcosm of a high school theatre ensemble. Did I do that? Not really. I was prepared to be dealing with race in a direct way, every day. I expected to have strong feelings. Have I? Not really. But wait...perhaps I HAVE been dealing with race in an INdirect way, every day.
I'm used to noticing when I'm speaking to someone of a race different than mine. The interesting thing that happened was that after the first week of working with the kids, I no longer thought about their races. I stopped classifying them and catagorizing them by their race. I stopped trying to pigeonhole them. I didn't think, 'oh, that's ---, the spunky Dominican girl who's a fantastic singer.' I just thought of them as people. Teenagers. Kids. Fun. People that I respect and that I like. The race no longer was a barrier in my eyes nor was it something that I actively took note of. But the question is...is that a good thing? Is that the ultimate goal? Are we trying to get to a point where we don't see racial differences, or would the real goal be to get to a place where we are comfortable seeing and acknowledging the differences and accepting our histories, talking about them, and moving forward together? Maybe it would be best to be in a place where we can all say, Hey, we're different. We are. We've had different pasts. We might come from different backgrounds. Our families probably have different traditions. But we're similar. We're human. We feel and think and love all the same. Maybe the only way to be truly free of any lingering racist tendencies or thoughts is to confront them head on instead of ignoring them and trying to move past them without confrontation. I'm not saying that I should have used the kids at my work to make a bigger statement about racism in America. I'm just saying that maybe the next time I do something like this, I approach it differently. Or maybe not. I suppose I don't really know.
I've noticed a behavioral habit in myself in the past few months. I somewhat alter the manifestation of my personality in different scenarios to make other people feel more comfortable. I've noticed that at work I will (somewhat consciously, somewhat unconsciously) choose to think cautiously about the way that I speak, my body language, and the way that I interact. Mostly the way that I speak. I noticed right off the bat that the kids at work make fun of the way I talk as playing into their idea of a "white, Jewish girl." Although I'm not particularly preppy or stuck up and I never thought that I spoke like a 'valley girl,' I've recently noticed some mannerisms in myself that are somewhat affected. I say 'like' a lot, and I'm sometimes very ditzy. I noticed that the kids at work really pick up on these mannerisms, and they tend to dwell on them, so that I feel somewhat like a caricature of myself at times. Then, I choose to either watch how I speak and try to avoid sparking any reminders of racial stereotypes, OR I choose to play these up for the amusement of the kids. I'll say something that's particularly ditzy or I'll skip in a circle, singing. They pick up on these, and I think they find comfort in seeing a racial stereotype manifested in real life that is familiar to them. Just as picked up on what I perceived to be "people playing to their stereotypes" at Albany High, I now see that when I'm put into that position, I will act as I'm expected to act. It's almost easier to fit into a mold rather than trying to be something less defined and more ambiguous, i.e. myself. Are people who identify as racial minorities, such as African-Americans or Hispanic people, playing to their stereotypes? Under what circumstances would it become socially acceptable for these facades to be dropped? What sort of cultural and ethical make over would we, as human beings and, more importantly, as Americans, need to go through to make it safe for us all to be ourselves? How do we even know who that is? After all that we've been through, what are we without our stereotypes?
I have this problem with getting frustrated because I feel like my feelings or thoughts or ideas are cliched. I know that all thoughts and feelings and ideas are, by nature, unoriginal, but I just wish that I could make a statement and feel like it's unique. But anyway, in the topic of race, I'm not ready to be making any sort of big statements at all. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I'm usually just so afraid to offend anyone that I try not to express any definitive opinions or thoughts. Which is sort of how I actually feel. I really don't know what I think and my thoughts are always changing and always being influenced by the people around me and encounters and experiences that I have. I suppose it's a good thing that I allow my opinions to be swayed and my perceptions of race to be constantly changing. I suppose all I can really do is keep having these thoughts and not let myself do what seems easiest, i.e. clam up and stop talking about it.
On a lighter note: Last week, I realized that I had worked on a show almost an entire semester without actually touching the 'acting parts.' I was supposed to direct a scene, but it didn't pan out because the show doesn't really lend itself to multiple directors. Instead, I focused my time on working intensively on fundraising and creating the program and observing rehearsals. I decided I needed to find a way to get my creative voice heard, metaphorically speaking, so I asked the director if I could lead a character building exercise for the kids. I spent hours planning this activity that borrowed some aspects of 'Viewpoints,' some things from Rust and Dust rehearsals, and some thoughts and beliefs of my own. And it was the most enjoyable few hours I've had in a while. I found that I loved planning the activity, I loved thinking really critically about exactly what should happen in my activity, how it should pan out, what the end result should be, how they should be feeling throughout, how it should effect them and their development. I loved it. And I could totally see myself doing it in the future. I love theatre and I love group process and, god, they just work together. I want to make kids feel passionate about things, and I want to make them excited and I want to make them good at things all at the same time. The cast of A Chorus Line has been having trouble making character choices on their own. Part of that I think stems from the fact that they haven't had much acting coaching throughout the process. There hasn't been much time for it. So I led them through a sort of guided, character building, movement meditation that was supposed to take them on a journey into the bodies of their characters. I was nervous about it because it was going to require a lot of focus and quiet and respect, all things that they've been having trouble with in recent rehearsals. But they were totally great! They listened and cooperated and totally went along with it, even though it was conceptual and weird and intended to be (pardon my french) a bit of a 'mind fuck.' I didn't see a huge difference in their run through that day, but they really need more than one coaching, so I wasn't worried. I was mostly ecstatic that they were able to get into the bodies and minds of their characters for the length of my exercise and that they respected it and took me seriously. And afterwards, one girl asked me for help learning her lines and the director allowed me to make notes at the end of their run through. I really feel like I've shown what I'm capable of doing. I can do the logistical stuff (fundraising, etc), I can make a playbill, I can act, dance and sing when they need me to fill in for a missing actor, I can teach the kids things, I can joke around, I can improve each actor's individual performance, as well as help to improve the group's performance on the whole. I'm very proud of myself and my work, and I like being taken seriously.
It's late again. And I have strep throat. I didn't mention that. This has been quite the rollercoaster year for my immune system. I just wanna tell it to CHILL OUT. My immune system, that is. Good night and look out for a personal post about my recent thoughts regarding my work and gender issues/sexism/self.
You've been very patient readers.
Allison
P.S.- part of me wants to say that I hope I didn't offend---but the other part of me wants to say that everything I say, I say for a reason, and that is to help me learn and grow, so I need to just let myself say these things and stop second guessing my thoughts and emotions.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
So much time and so little to do!
Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.
Yes, that's a quote from Willy Wonka.
I haven't written a blog post in a few weeks, mostly because there's just been SO MUCH going on that every time I think about sitting down to write about it, my head spins and it seems like a completely impossible task. But as my supportive Mom pointed out recently, it will help me a lot in writing my retrospective and in collecting my thoughts about the semester if I'm documenting the things that happen to me as I go. This is unmistakeably true. Momma knows best, I guess.
So my goal for the evening is to write a comprehensible blog post that encompasses as much of the goings on of the past few weeks and my thoughts and analyses on these events. Oy.
A Chorus Line is looming nearer and nearer on the horizon and I can't help but wonder where my semester went! I'm just now starting to feel totally physically normal (like a real human being!) Although I wish that my body had been in better condition earlier in the semester so that I could have been very active from the start, I still feel like I've been learning and accomplishing an extraordinarily large number of things in the months since I moved to the city.
My turn to direct a scene in the show is coming up next week and I'm feeling a little bit nervous about it. Directing isn't something that I've ever done before in any formal setting, but I'm hoping that I get the hang of it. I only just recently realized how important directing skills will be to me in the future if I want to pursue a career in community organizing/building through a theatre troupe of some sort. Also, directing skills are just important, in general.
I've noticed that one of my dominant personality traits is both a blessing and a curse. I have a habit of taking on many tasks at one time and balancing them all on my back. This sort of stubborn independence is partially a result of me wanting to do things my way and partially a result of feeling like, because my various co-workers know that I tend to take on too much but do a very good job, I sometimes get this independent work thrust upon me. And I have trouble saying no.
As a result of this trait, I'm currently working very hard (with one or two other helpers) to raise the $2500 that LoMATE needs so that they stay afloat by going door-to-door at local,privately-owned businesses on the Lower East Side and asking them for donations (monetary and in-kind.) I'm making phone calls, I'm designing and writing the program for the play. I attend most of the production team meetings. I make annoying phone calls to kids that are late to rehearsal. I'm getting a close peek into the behind-the-scenes parts of putting on a production. Before this semester, I had never put much thought into budgets or the reality of what it takes to build a set or stage a full-cast dance number or put together a pit orchestra. I always thought of myself as being very much in the thick of the production process for various shows I've been in, but now that I realize what really goes into putting on a show, I realize that actors are somewhat outsiders. Are actors the important parts of a play or musical? Are they just replaceable stand-ins whose job is to make other people's designs look good/bring other people's blocking and direction to life? What exactly is the ACTOR's job? Just a few questions.
In terms of community building, I've noticed an interesting phenomenon. The kids who are in the Central 20 have developed a sort of easy repartee. The kids in the chorus have not been required to attend as many rehearsals as the Central 20, and therefore, they aren't as well-adjusted in the cast OR as comfortable in their own skin making fools of themselves, or even fully acting. I think that, in the future, if I'm ever given the opportunity to direct a show like this, I would make sure that the cast as a whole had a lot of group process work (Viewpoints,style. I'm a big fan of Anne Bogart's stuff) at the beginning of the rehearsal process, and also throughout, maybe as part of their daily warm-up. It's so important to establish a strong ensemble dynamic because if you don't feel comfortable being yourself in front of a group of people, then how will you feel comfortable acting in front of them, and more importantly, with them? You have to be able to make a fool of yourself and fully commit to it, otherwise the performance will look silly. It's funny how silliness on stage only translates to silliness when you aren't being totally silly and committing fully to your silliness.
Work for Hashomer is getting crazy as we prepare for summer camp, where I will be sharing the position of "Rosh Tarbut" aka Head of Culture (/programming/making the summer awesome.) We're in the midst of making the job list and I'm still planning seminars for the kids in the Manhattan/Jersey area. I'm also beginning to think about the theatre curriculum that I want to run this summer as an elective. I'm going to totally be in charge of that mission and I want it tobe a group that people can really commit to. I hope it doesn't fall through because even though it's going to be a lot of extra work, I'm really really really looking forward to it. I plan on having a set warm up for every day and maybe a different theme for every week (i.e. monologues or character building, etc.) I want the kids to be constantly working on things but also playing games and experimenting and becoming more comfortable in their own skin, which is the ultimate goal of the theatre, to me. I'd really really like help with thinking about and planning this curriculum. Any guidance from my two lovely advisers (who know a whole lot more about this than I do!) would be super great and helpful!
Anyway, it's getting late and I'm going to Providence tomorrow and still have plenty to do! Excuse the rambling, you can look forward to another blog post in the NEAR future (much nearer than last time, I promise.)
Thanks for reading, buddies.
Queen Allie.
Yes, that's a quote from Willy Wonka.
I haven't written a blog post in a few weeks, mostly because there's just been SO MUCH going on that every time I think about sitting down to write about it, my head spins and it seems like a completely impossible task. But as my supportive Mom pointed out recently, it will help me a lot in writing my retrospective and in collecting my thoughts about the semester if I'm documenting the things that happen to me as I go. This is unmistakeably true. Momma knows best, I guess.
So my goal for the evening is to write a comprehensible blog post that encompasses as much of the goings on of the past few weeks and my thoughts and analyses on these events. Oy.
A Chorus Line is looming nearer and nearer on the horizon and I can't help but wonder where my semester went! I'm just now starting to feel totally physically normal (like a real human being!) Although I wish that my body had been in better condition earlier in the semester so that I could have been very active from the start, I still feel like I've been learning and accomplishing an extraordinarily large number of things in the months since I moved to the city.
My turn to direct a scene in the show is coming up next week and I'm feeling a little bit nervous about it. Directing isn't something that I've ever done before in any formal setting, but I'm hoping that I get the hang of it. I only just recently realized how important directing skills will be to me in the future if I want to pursue a career in community organizing/building through a theatre troupe of some sort. Also, directing skills are just important, in general.
I've noticed that one of my dominant personality traits is both a blessing and a curse. I have a habit of taking on many tasks at one time and balancing them all on my back. This sort of stubborn independence is partially a result of me wanting to do things my way and partially a result of feeling like, because my various co-workers know that I tend to take on too much but do a very good job, I sometimes get this independent work thrust upon me. And I have trouble saying no.
As a result of this trait, I'm currently working very hard (with one or two other helpers) to raise the $2500 that LoMATE needs so that they stay afloat by going door-to-door at local,privately-owned businesses on the Lower East Side and asking them for donations (monetary and in-kind.) I'm making phone calls, I'm designing and writing the program for the play. I attend most of the production team meetings. I make annoying phone calls to kids that are late to rehearsal. I'm getting a close peek into the behind-the-scenes parts of putting on a production. Before this semester, I had never put much thought into budgets or the reality of what it takes to build a set or stage a full-cast dance number or put together a pit orchestra. I always thought of myself as being very much in the thick of the production process for various shows I've been in, but now that I realize what really goes into putting on a show, I realize that actors are somewhat outsiders. Are actors the important parts of a play or musical? Are they just replaceable stand-ins whose job is to make other people's designs look good/bring other people's blocking and direction to life? What exactly is the ACTOR's job? Just a few questions.
In terms of community building, I've noticed an interesting phenomenon. The kids who are in the Central 20 have developed a sort of easy repartee. The kids in the chorus have not been required to attend as many rehearsals as the Central 20, and therefore, they aren't as well-adjusted in the cast OR as comfortable in their own skin making fools of themselves, or even fully acting. I think that, in the future, if I'm ever given the opportunity to direct a show like this, I would make sure that the cast as a whole had a lot of group process work (Viewpoints,style. I'm a big fan of Anne Bogart's stuff) at the beginning of the rehearsal process, and also throughout, maybe as part of their daily warm-up. It's so important to establish a strong ensemble dynamic because if you don't feel comfortable being yourself in front of a group of people, then how will you feel comfortable acting in front of them, and more importantly, with them? You have to be able to make a fool of yourself and fully commit to it, otherwise the performance will look silly. It's funny how silliness on stage only translates to silliness when you aren't being totally silly and committing fully to your silliness.
Work for Hashomer is getting crazy as we prepare for summer camp, where I will be sharing the position of "Rosh Tarbut" aka Head of Culture (/programming/making the summer awesome.) We're in the midst of making the job list and I'm still planning seminars for the kids in the Manhattan/Jersey area. I'm also beginning to think about the theatre curriculum that I want to run this summer as an elective. I'm going to totally be in charge of that mission and I want it tobe a group that people can really commit to. I hope it doesn't fall through because even though it's going to be a lot of extra work, I'm really really really looking forward to it. I plan on having a set warm up for every day and maybe a different theme for every week (i.e. monologues or character building, etc.) I want the kids to be constantly working on things but also playing games and experimenting and becoming more comfortable in their own skin, which is the ultimate goal of the theatre, to me. I'd really really like help with thinking about and planning this curriculum. Any guidance from my two lovely advisers (who know a whole lot more about this than I do!) would be super great and helpful!
Anyway, it's getting late and I'm going to Providence tomorrow and still have plenty to do! Excuse the rambling, you can look forward to another blog post in the NEAR future (much nearer than last time, I promise.)
Thanks for reading, buddies.
Queen Allie.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
A deeper look
When I initially decided to intern at Henry Street, I was certain that everyday would be full of introspection and that every day, the kids I was working with would prove my hypotheses about theatre building strong communities to be true. In the first few weeks, I was not disappointed with my job, but I was disappointed with the outcome. I didn't feel necessarily like I was learning new things about the field of community theatre/education. Because I wasn't a close contributor to the cast's process in rehearsals, and because the cast is a rather large one, I didn't feel like I was seeing any personal growth in the kids or communal growth in the ensemble.
Last week, and especially today, I realized otherwise. In my opinion, the most important thing in the world (besides music...which I believe to be incredibly important) is community. I believe that having a strong community of like-minded individuals who really care about each other is not just a privelege; it's a right. And furthermore, it's a necessity. Human beings are meant to live and work and play and laugh and love and fight together. If you aren't fully surrounding yourself with other human beings and truly caring about them and letting them care about you, then you aren't fully living. Of course, that's only my opinion. And really, that's only how I want to live my life. I don't feel like it's necessary for me to force these opinions on anyone else, simply to surround myself with a good strong community and a lot of music, and hopefully, to make community an accessible reality for other people.
I believe that in the perfect circumstances, theatre has the ability to create such a strong community and network of individuals coming together because they really love something, because they really believe in something, because they have the desire to make something great, and because they know that flying solo in the theatre is difficult to do and practically a hypocritical statement. Of course, this isn't true of all theatre communities. But in the best ones that I've been a part of (community theatre organizations, summer stock, even plays being put on at summer camp), a bond is created; one that is durable and real and remarkably inclusive.
I hoped to see this sort of bond blossom and grow within the cast of A Chorus Line, and I wanted to be a part of it, in some way. I realized that these things take time. That in order for my hypothesis to work, the cast must first have joint experiences and start to connect through them. And then, last week I realized something even greater. The bond that they're making, that we're making, isn't just a social bond. It's about something much bigger for these kids. It's about creating something, building it from scratch, and making something that they can really be proud of. That they can take ownership over. And doing that together and not being alone, that is the first step to building a community.
Today, they had a full day rehearsal because they're on spring break. I haven't been there the past few days, as it's been Passover and I was with my family. Only the central 19...scratch that, they added one, 20...were called. The minute I walked into rehearsal, I was pounced upon by about 5 of the kids, a few of whom, I haven't really even spoken to that much. They all enveloped me in bear hugs and then leapt about, excitedly. They were all so hyper active and so happy to be at rehearsal and together, that it reminded me of what I feel like when I'm working on a show and the cast is really gelling and the show is starting to come together. It's this super duper high that rivals nothing else. YOu feel untouchable, yet not like you're in your own bubble. You feel untouchable, surrounded by other untouchables, yet all in the same bubble...wow I'm starting to lose coherence, better start wrapping it up. long day.
Anyways. A few cast members were missing, so I filled in for the female roles. Singing and everything. It was a lot of fun. And the show is starting to look great and sound great and the kids are getting excited and the ones who have stuck with it are committed to this and to nothing else but this. I played and bantered with them all today, for the first time, really. I've gotten to know a handful of them through one on two singing sessions with the director and I, or just through random encounters. But it seems like somehow I've made my mark, they've finally enveloped me and accepted me as one of the people that they can trust enough to be silly with and to sing in front of and even, to hug. Funny, all I did was dance with them sometimes, press play on the stereo, and observe their rehearsals. That's what I mean about the theatre community. Once you've established yourself as a believer, you're immediately taken into the fold, and there's less of a barrier despite racial differences or age differences, etc. People are just people. People who love theatre. People who want to be liked. People who want to play.
This is turning into quite the interesting journey, after all.
More on some of the latter themes later on. I'm falling asleep now.
XOXO,
The Great Believer.
Last week, and especially today, I realized otherwise. In my opinion, the most important thing in the world (besides music...which I believe to be incredibly important) is community. I believe that having a strong community of like-minded individuals who really care about each other is not just a privelege; it's a right. And furthermore, it's a necessity. Human beings are meant to live and work and play and laugh and love and fight together. If you aren't fully surrounding yourself with other human beings and truly caring about them and letting them care about you, then you aren't fully living. Of course, that's only my opinion. And really, that's only how I want to live my life. I don't feel like it's necessary for me to force these opinions on anyone else, simply to surround myself with a good strong community and a lot of music, and hopefully, to make community an accessible reality for other people.
I believe that in the perfect circumstances, theatre has the ability to create such a strong community and network of individuals coming together because they really love something, because they really believe in something, because they have the desire to make something great, and because they know that flying solo in the theatre is difficult to do and practically a hypocritical statement. Of course, this isn't true of all theatre communities. But in the best ones that I've been a part of (community theatre organizations, summer stock, even plays being put on at summer camp), a bond is created; one that is durable and real and remarkably inclusive.
I hoped to see this sort of bond blossom and grow within the cast of A Chorus Line, and I wanted to be a part of it, in some way. I realized that these things take time. That in order for my hypothesis to work, the cast must first have joint experiences and start to connect through them. And then, last week I realized something even greater. The bond that they're making, that we're making, isn't just a social bond. It's about something much bigger for these kids. It's about creating something, building it from scratch, and making something that they can really be proud of. That they can take ownership over. And doing that together and not being alone, that is the first step to building a community.
Today, they had a full day rehearsal because they're on spring break. I haven't been there the past few days, as it's been Passover and I was with my family. Only the central 19...scratch that, they added one, 20...were called. The minute I walked into rehearsal, I was pounced upon by about 5 of the kids, a few of whom, I haven't really even spoken to that much. They all enveloped me in bear hugs and then leapt about, excitedly. They were all so hyper active and so happy to be at rehearsal and together, that it reminded me of what I feel like when I'm working on a show and the cast is really gelling and the show is starting to come together. It's this super duper high that rivals nothing else. YOu feel untouchable, yet not like you're in your own bubble. You feel untouchable, surrounded by other untouchables, yet all in the same bubble...wow I'm starting to lose coherence, better start wrapping it up. long day.
Anyways. A few cast members were missing, so I filled in for the female roles. Singing and everything. It was a lot of fun. And the show is starting to look great and sound great and the kids are getting excited and the ones who have stuck with it are committed to this and to nothing else but this. I played and bantered with them all today, for the first time, really. I've gotten to know a handful of them through one on two singing sessions with the director and I, or just through random encounters. But it seems like somehow I've made my mark, they've finally enveloped me and accepted me as one of the people that they can trust enough to be silly with and to sing in front of and even, to hug. Funny, all I did was dance with them sometimes, press play on the stereo, and observe their rehearsals. That's what I mean about the theatre community. Once you've established yourself as a believer, you're immediately taken into the fold, and there's less of a barrier despite racial differences or age differences, etc. People are just people. People who love theatre. People who want to be liked. People who want to play.
This is turning into quite the interesting journey, after all.
More on some of the latter themes later on. I'm falling asleep now.
XOXO,
The Great Believer.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Let It Rain
What a wet few weeks! My Henry Street work has continued to go swimmingly. After a last day of auditions, a cast list was announced. Out of the 64 PEOPLE who ended up auditioning, about twenty five or so made it into the final cast, and only 19 of those are central characters. I found out that I'm going to get to direct a scene! The scene I chose was "What I Did For Love" because it's always been one of my favorite musical ballads, and is particularly near and dear to my heart because when I was younger, I used to rent A Chorus Line when I visited my Grandma and we'd watch it together. That song always reminds me of her. Although she passed away during my freshman year of high school, I think about her a lot. Maybe I can dedicate this scene (in my mind) to her.
The kids that I'm working with are lovely and difficult. I'm starting to get a little bit frustrated with the lack of commitment that I see, and I'm feeling more for directors that I had in the past, when I was working on shows with casts that were loud or missed a lot of rehearsals. As an actress, I have little patience for people who waste time. As Kate, the director, said in rehearsal the other day, time is precious. That being said, I also understand that it's difficult for high schoolers to make serious commitments and that the lives of some of these kids are more difficult than they portray them to be. Already, a number of actors have dropped out of the show for personal reasons. The cast list is always shifting a little bit, but it seems like it's almost solid now.
I've only been present for full cast dance rehearsals so far. They're fun, and it's clear to me that the cast is getting better and better. I feel a swelling up of pride when I see a girl, who has been struggling, finally do a graceful tour jete. Although my work mostly consists, right now, of watching them and doing odd jobs, I feel a sense of ownership over the show and the final product, and a real sense of pride towards the people involved who love theatre so much.
My other job is going well. For Hashomer, I coordinated, planned and executed a successful seminar on Sunday! Twenty five or so kids came and about fifteen counselors. We played Passover-themed games and got to know each other, and I ended up feeling really proud of myself. I've been putting a lot of work into making sure that things happen for Hashomer. This involves some obnoxious emailing and calling, but it has also helped me to reignite a passion for community building and a passion for Hashomer Hatzair and the people involved. I have such high hopes for what this summer will look like, camp wise, and for what the movement could look like, once we get the rest of the counselors back on track and feeling EXCITED and INSPIRED and Proud. I feel like starting to do that is the most important part of my job with Hashomer this semester.
OVER AND OUT.
ALG
The kids that I'm working with are lovely and difficult. I'm starting to get a little bit frustrated with the lack of commitment that I see, and I'm feeling more for directors that I had in the past, when I was working on shows with casts that were loud or missed a lot of rehearsals. As an actress, I have little patience for people who waste time. As Kate, the director, said in rehearsal the other day, time is precious. That being said, I also understand that it's difficult for high schoolers to make serious commitments and that the lives of some of these kids are more difficult than they portray them to be. Already, a number of actors have dropped out of the show for personal reasons. The cast list is always shifting a little bit, but it seems like it's almost solid now.
I've only been present for full cast dance rehearsals so far. They're fun, and it's clear to me that the cast is getting better and better. I feel a swelling up of pride when I see a girl, who has been struggling, finally do a graceful tour jete. Although my work mostly consists, right now, of watching them and doing odd jobs, I feel a sense of ownership over the show and the final product, and a real sense of pride towards the people involved who love theatre so much.
My other job is going well. For Hashomer, I coordinated, planned and executed a successful seminar on Sunday! Twenty five or so kids came and about fifteen counselors. We played Passover-themed games and got to know each other, and I ended up feeling really proud of myself. I've been putting a lot of work into making sure that things happen for Hashomer. This involves some obnoxious emailing and calling, but it has also helped me to reignite a passion for community building and a passion for Hashomer Hatzair and the people involved. I have such high hopes for what this summer will look like, camp wise, and for what the movement could look like, once we get the rest of the counselors back on track and feeling EXCITED and INSPIRED and Proud. I feel like starting to do that is the most important part of my job with Hashomer this semester.
OVER AND OUT.
ALG
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Internship Begins
My first day at Henry Street was yesterday. Although my commute is annoyingly long, the day was invigorating and exciting and everything that I had hoped it would be. After getting slightly lost in Chinatown, I finally found the Abrons Art Center at around ten after 11 AM. It's a big building in the most interesting location. A few blocks from the Delancey subway stop on the Lower East Side, the Henry Street Settlement has offered its wide range of programs in everything from health services to employment to arts programming since the 1890s. As a leader in the field of community organizing, Henry Street has helped to improve the lives of countless people by giving them the tools to enhance their quality of life.
I've never spent much time on the LES. Growing up, I may have visited a few times, but I don't really remember. As I got older, I spent most of my trips to New York in and around Times Square, staying in YMCAs with my Grandma Rita and seeing two, maybe three Broadway shows in a single weekend or in Bayside, Queens, where my Grandma lived when I was young. And when I passed into teenagehood, a trip to New York became more about seeing friends than sightseeing or history lessons. I would stay with my best friend in Park Slope, visit with friends on the Upper West Side, rough it in Bushwick. The Lower East Side is one of those places that existed to me only through school history lessons, books that I read about female, Jewish immigrants, and stories from my family. Even the very second that I set foot in the area yesterday, at 11 AM, I felt that I was about to embark on a crazy adventure and that I had no idea what was in store for me.
Like I said, I got lost in a particularly shady section of Chinatown, and eventually wandered my way through dirty streets with street vendors selling equally dirty apples and oranges and arrived at the main settlement house, where I was directed to Abrons. Upon arrival, I greeted my new "boss", a woman named Nellie, who took me on a tour of the people that I should know in the department, introducing me to the people in charge of marketing, technical theatre, dance, drama, and of course, arts-in-ed. She informed me that Abrons' own youth theatre company is putting up a production of Metamorphoses later in the spring and that the staff was already well-aware of my proficiencies in all of the various performing arts areas, and that they would probably ask me to help out. After the meet-'n-greet, she armed me with an introductory packet filled with a list of nosheries in the area and sent me out into the (bright!) sunshine for lunch. I ate at a cute sandwich/soup/Mexican/trendy/coffee/pastry place a few blocks down. When I returned, I worked on cutting out ads for various Abrons events from mags like Time Out NY and regluing them in artsy layouts on sheets of white printer paper. At around 2:30, Nellie and I headed over to LoMA (Lower Manhattan Arts Academy) where I will be doing the brunt of my internship. I'm going to be Assistant Directing and just being a general helper with their production of....A Chorus Line! (Which was so so so exciting for me to find out, musical theatre dork that I am.) Yesterday was their first day of auditions, and I felt really lucky to be there.
The school is only four or five years old, and exists in a building with a few other sort of "themed" schools. In terms of the racial population, the kids are mostly African American, Latino and Asian American. They come from all sorts of varying backgrounds, from two parent, steady income, middle class homes to the multitude of impoverished and broken homes. 54 kids showed up the audition, which took place in a small dance studio. They were taught the famous audition sequence dance from A Chorus Line, and I alternated between watching the choreographer teach the kids and going out into the hallway to help the groups that weren't being worked with figure out the intricacies of a pretty difficult and very fast paced choreo sequence. Although I was nervous and somewhat shy (not to mention completely exhausted from a crazy first day), I do feel that I started to make some good connections with the kids. Auditions will continue tomororw with the formal dance, singing and acting auditions, which I'm very very excited for. I got the impression that LoMATE, as they call it (Lower Manhattan Arts Theatre Ensemble), has become an invaluable resource in the school. It keeps kids off the streets and gives them something productive to do with their time, something that they can be really proud of. Which, essentially, is what I think theatre SHOULD do. I'm excited to meet the kids who will make up the final cast and start building relationships with them, not to mention watching and assisting their relationships with each other to develop and grow throughout the rehearsal process, as I know they will. This is theatre in the making, and community building at its source.
I wrote earlier in this entry about the rich cultural history of the Lower East Side. I noticed some interesting things happening, even on my first day in the area. First of all, it's become an incredibly trendy and hip place to be, home to some of the city's best clubs, bars and restaurants. So I noticed a steady flow of twenty-something/early-30s hipsters and indie darlings, filtering in and out of a deep crowd of impoverished Asian people, elderly Jewish immigrants, and so on. It's such a diverse area, with all of the various cultural and ethnic groups trying to push their way around, in order to maintain even the slightest amount of elbow room, and more importantly, in order to not be pushed out. The area really puts meaning into the term "melting pot." I remember singing about the "Great American Melting Pot" when I was in Schoolhouse Rock Live! and knowing but not really UNDERSTANDING what we were singing about. Well, maybe I'll finally get to understand.
I can't help but feel that through the completely wild, roller coaster ride-type chain of events of the past few months, I've SOMEHOW ended up doing exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. I'm literally working The Job that I've been picturing myself having in the future. It's the ultimate stepping stone and I am so incredibly lucky to have landed here, even without fully knowing what I was getting myself into...or even knowing at all!
Now, I just have to try not to bite off more than I can chew and absorb every single detail of my experience, really live it, and try to make some sense of it all.
Phew, time for bed.
Step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch...Again!
I'll have the combination running through my head for months.
-AL.PAL.
I've never spent much time on the LES. Growing up, I may have visited a few times, but I don't really remember. As I got older, I spent most of my trips to New York in and around Times Square, staying in YMCAs with my Grandma Rita and seeing two, maybe three Broadway shows in a single weekend or in Bayside, Queens, where my Grandma lived when I was young. And when I passed into teenagehood, a trip to New York became more about seeing friends than sightseeing or history lessons. I would stay with my best friend in Park Slope, visit with friends on the Upper West Side, rough it in Bushwick. The Lower East Side is one of those places that existed to me only through school history lessons, books that I read about female, Jewish immigrants, and stories from my family. Even the very second that I set foot in the area yesterday, at 11 AM, I felt that I was about to embark on a crazy adventure and that I had no idea what was in store for me.
Like I said, I got lost in a particularly shady section of Chinatown, and eventually wandered my way through dirty streets with street vendors selling equally dirty apples and oranges and arrived at the main settlement house, where I was directed to Abrons. Upon arrival, I greeted my new "boss", a woman named Nellie, who took me on a tour of the people that I should know in the department, introducing me to the people in charge of marketing, technical theatre, dance, drama, and of course, arts-in-ed. She informed me that Abrons' own youth theatre company is putting up a production of Metamorphoses later in the spring and that the staff was already well-aware of my proficiencies in all of the various performing arts areas, and that they would probably ask me to help out. After the meet-'n-greet, she armed me with an introductory packet filled with a list of nosheries in the area and sent me out into the (bright!) sunshine for lunch. I ate at a cute sandwich/soup/Mexican/trendy/coffee/pastry place a few blocks down. When I returned, I worked on cutting out ads for various Abrons events from mags like Time Out NY and regluing them in artsy layouts on sheets of white printer paper. At around 2:30, Nellie and I headed over to LoMA (Lower Manhattan Arts Academy) where I will be doing the brunt of my internship. I'm going to be Assistant Directing and just being a general helper with their production of....A Chorus Line! (Which was so so so exciting for me to find out, musical theatre dork that I am.) Yesterday was their first day of auditions, and I felt really lucky to be there.
The school is only four or five years old, and exists in a building with a few other sort of "themed" schools. In terms of the racial population, the kids are mostly African American, Latino and Asian American. They come from all sorts of varying backgrounds, from two parent, steady income, middle class homes to the multitude of impoverished and broken homes. 54 kids showed up the audition, which took place in a small dance studio. They were taught the famous audition sequence dance from A Chorus Line, and I alternated between watching the choreographer teach the kids and going out into the hallway to help the groups that weren't being worked with figure out the intricacies of a pretty difficult and very fast paced choreo sequence. Although I was nervous and somewhat shy (not to mention completely exhausted from a crazy first day), I do feel that I started to make some good connections with the kids. Auditions will continue tomororw with the formal dance, singing and acting auditions, which I'm very very excited for. I got the impression that LoMATE, as they call it (Lower Manhattan Arts Theatre Ensemble), has become an invaluable resource in the school. It keeps kids off the streets and gives them something productive to do with their time, something that they can be really proud of. Which, essentially, is what I think theatre SHOULD do. I'm excited to meet the kids who will make up the final cast and start building relationships with them, not to mention watching and assisting their relationships with each other to develop and grow throughout the rehearsal process, as I know they will. This is theatre in the making, and community building at its source.
I wrote earlier in this entry about the rich cultural history of the Lower East Side. I noticed some interesting things happening, even on my first day in the area. First of all, it's become an incredibly trendy and hip place to be, home to some of the city's best clubs, bars and restaurants. So I noticed a steady flow of twenty-something/early-30s hipsters and indie darlings, filtering in and out of a deep crowd of impoverished Asian people, elderly Jewish immigrants, and so on. It's such a diverse area, with all of the various cultural and ethnic groups trying to push their way around, in order to maintain even the slightest amount of elbow room, and more importantly, in order to not be pushed out. The area really puts meaning into the term "melting pot." I remember singing about the "Great American Melting Pot" when I was in Schoolhouse Rock Live! and knowing but not really UNDERSTANDING what we were singing about. Well, maybe I'll finally get to understand.
I can't help but feel that through the completely wild, roller coaster ride-type chain of events of the past few months, I've SOMEHOW ended up doing exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. I'm literally working The Job that I've been picturing myself having in the future. It's the ultimate stepping stone and I am so incredibly lucky to have landed here, even without fully knowing what I was getting myself into...or even knowing at all!
Now, I just have to try not to bite off more than I can chew and absorb every single detail of my experience, really live it, and try to make some sense of it all.
Phew, time for bed.
Step, kick, kick, leap, kick, touch...Again!
I'll have the combination running through my head for months.
-AL.PAL.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
In the beginning...
Hi, Natalie, Djola, and any other readers!
I moved into 35 W 92nd Street on Sunday, February 21st at 3:30 PM. The drive to New York felt surreal after months of planning and waiting and midnight adrenaline rushes, not to mention my sudden bout of mononucleosis that delayed my move for three extra weeks.
Watching the scenery of cows and mountains evolve into buildings, I had two battling thoughts in my head. On the one hand, I was so incredibly excited to finally be doing this field study term that I worked so hard to whip up out of nowhere. It really feels like the right time for me to be in New York and not the right time for me to be in classes, where after a year of pushing myself as hard as I possibly could, I still felt like I was falling short. My hope is that this semester will, in part, help to remind me that I love learning and that there isn't just one way to learn. My second thought was an intense worry that I wouldn't know my boundaries in the beginning of the semester and end up getting myself sicker. I'm afraid that I'm too weak for the sort of lifestyle that I"m used to in New York, aka one that requires constant commute. However, the excitement eventually won out, and as I greeted my friend on the sidewalk outside the BEAUTIFUL, parkside apartment that I'll be staying in, I felt a rush of Allie-like energy that I haven't felt in a while.
In terms of work, I went into my youth movement headquarters, which will herein be referred to by its rightful Hebrew name, the "lishka". There, I had a meeting to discuss my job. I'm in charge of coordinating and helping to plan all activities for kids who live in New Jersey, as well as the major, day-long activities for all campers that will occur in the city, probably twice this spring.
I don't start working with Henry Street until Tuesday, but I'm really looking forward to starting my internship!
More to come when more stuff happens!
-A.L.G.
I moved into 35 W 92nd Street on Sunday, February 21st at 3:30 PM. The drive to New York felt surreal after months of planning and waiting and midnight adrenaline rushes, not to mention my sudden bout of mononucleosis that delayed my move for three extra weeks.
Watching the scenery of cows and mountains evolve into buildings, I had two battling thoughts in my head. On the one hand, I was so incredibly excited to finally be doing this field study term that I worked so hard to whip up out of nowhere. It really feels like the right time for me to be in New York and not the right time for me to be in classes, where after a year of pushing myself as hard as I possibly could, I still felt like I was falling short. My hope is that this semester will, in part, help to remind me that I love learning and that there isn't just one way to learn. My second thought was an intense worry that I wouldn't know my boundaries in the beginning of the semester and end up getting myself sicker. I'm afraid that I'm too weak for the sort of lifestyle that I"m used to in New York, aka one that requires constant commute. However, the excitement eventually won out, and as I greeted my friend on the sidewalk outside the BEAUTIFUL, parkside apartment that I'll be staying in, I felt a rush of Allie-like energy that I haven't felt in a while.
In terms of work, I went into my youth movement headquarters, which will herein be referred to by its rightful Hebrew name, the "lishka". There, I had a meeting to discuss my job. I'm in charge of coordinating and helping to plan all activities for kids who live in New Jersey, as well as the major, day-long activities for all campers that will occur in the city, probably twice this spring.
I don't start working with Henry Street until Tuesday, but I'm really looking forward to starting my internship!
More to come when more stuff happens!
-A.L.G.
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