A Sad Week

I am not even going to attempt to make up the last week of posts. I spent most of the week trapped in class or on the stage in Rent. I don't think I saw an inch of nature between the stage door and the classroom door and my bedroom door. It has been brutal. In my attempt to find the class on Friday at the Middlefork Savanna, I became very anxious and aggravated my already death of a cold. I spent all of Friday, Saturday and Sunday asleep. Truth be told, I don't feel rested now. Hopefully the next couple of weeks won't be so murderous to my health and sanity.

Sunday's Posting a Little Late

First draft of a poem I wrote for Creatvie Exercise #3:


Road scores the ravine.
See where the ground is
Modified? Altered?
The tight valley twists,
Winds its way unmarred
Through the lush forest
‘Til it meets the road.
The canyon changes course,
Suppressed to surrender.
Succumbs to the street.

Leafy disguises
Hide the truth.
Trees are a device
To persuade.
To manipulate
They aren’t real.
Do you blind yourself
To mutilation?

Porch Party

Tonight we had a Res Life program. It was so successful. In Moore there is a double whose door is off the lounge. It has a landing in front of it and the boys who live in that room have named it the Porch. We decided to have a cookout on the "Porch" tonight with George Foreman Grills. It was so successful. We had 30 people come through during the hour of the program. It was fun to grill in the building. It's like the closest thing to a camping trip or a cookout I've had in a long time. I also went to Deerpath Middle School to have my car washed by the hockey team. That was fun. My car has not been cleaned in months. Shelly really needed a bath.

Friday Night Duty

Tonight I'm on duty for Res Life. I have not been outside at all today, save a half an hour, because I spent the day driving a car to Merilville, Indiana for my father's business. Then I had to get back to school for our Remembering Patrick Swayze movie night. I was outside for a half an hour of relaxation with that damn chiminea. That was it. To roast a marshmallow. Next week is going to be a nightmare and I will probably miss each night's posting.

Missed Thursday

Missed Thursday's post because I was without any down-time all day and almost passed out in the evening from a nausea-inducing migraine. Here was my schedule:

9:00am - up and dressed

9:30am-11:00am - a cappella

11:00am-12:00am - res life staff meeting

12:00pm-1:00pm - voice lesson master class

1:00pm-2:30pm - senior seminar

2:30pm-4:00pm - catch-up on work

4:00pm-6:00pm - choir

6:00pm-12:00am - rehearsal (including drive to des plaines)

Brutal

Bugs

"Our ability to perceive quality in nature begins, as in art, with the pretty. It expands through successive stages of the beautiful to values as yet uncaptured by language."
-Aldo Leopold A Sand County Almanac

Yesterday I was walking to Reid Hall and I stopped in that little archway - the walkthrough between the Chapel and Reid - and I looked down to see the most interesting-looking caterpillar. It's furry body was tan with several sections of black hair. I was enthralled with the creature and spent the next 10 minutes observing its habits. It would lift its upper body to search for something to grab onto but I had it on my notebook so nothing else was available. After enjoying the torture of an unfamiliar situation I had inflicted on the caterpillar, I brought the insect to a safe haven next to the building. I placed it on the leaf of a tall plant and watched it crawl away. The animal was so - beautiful. One could say it was pretty, it was sort of cute and cuddly-looking, but pretty isn't really the word for it. Beautiful is the best way to describe it. Everything about it was beautiful - its appearance, its actions and habits, and its clear thought process as it scrambled for a place of safety to which to crawl.

Last night I was in my room and about to go to bed when, as I was placing my phone on my window ledge after setting my alarm for the morning, I lifted my water bottle and saw a large centipede lounging on the sill. As I went to suck it into my Dustbuster, it startled and skittered away. I was able to trap it in my buster and in its captivity, I studied it for a few minutes. It was rather long - one and a half to two inches - brown with many legs and two long twitchy antennae. It was a fast little thing and I had difficulty catching it but I did in the end and it is now dried up and curled in my machine. Sadly it had to die so I could feel comfortable in my bed, but once again I recognize the beauty of the animal. There was nothing pretty about the centipede, but it was certainly beautiful. It had spots of brown all over it and its feelers were in constant motion. I was taken aback by its speed as it escaped my Dustbuster. I am saddened that I had to kill it, but I never would have been able to last the night.

Finally a Post on Time

So I don't have much to say except that I am very happy to post a blog entry before the day closes so I actually have one online when it's supposed to be up. I didn't go anywhere outdoorsy (of course) but I am happy to be in the theater again. The show's lookin' good.

Sunday and Monday's Missed Posts

Sunday: In the city. Saw two shows at the Chopin - one last night, one today. Met with Lela, who is the co-owner of the theatre with her husband, Zygmunt. They are wonderful. I will be interning with them next semester. Actually, I'll be starting this semester sporadically and then going full force next semester. The building is beatiful. The owners live upstairs. The first floor has a large stage in which I have seen a musical, a performance art piece and a Shakespeare show. Downstairs in the small black box space I have seen two plays - one of which was very naturalistic (meaning they created an atmosphere that more acurately represented the real world). It was Desire Under the Elms. The company had covered the floor of the space, all the way into the audience, with mulch. It engaged the senses of smell and taste in the performance as well as sight, hearing and touch. It was a beautiful production and one of the reasons I like the Chopin so much. It is so versatile and caters to the needs of the production. The lobbies of the theater is decorated with hundreds of paintings, antique couches, flowers, mirrors and at least 6 bathrooms. Downstairs is a vibrant meeting room in which Sunday mornings see weekly engagements for companies and organizations. There are two bars and it is one of the only smaller, independently owned theaters to have a liquor liscense. I am so excited about working there I told Lela I would do anything from run productions to bartend to copy invoices to clean. I CAN'T WAIT!

Monday: First rehearsal in the theater space for Rent. It's the Prairie Lakes Theatre in Des Plaines. What a beautiful space!! We are so lucky to be out of the conference room at the Winnetka Community House and in the performance space TWO WEEKS before the show opens. That's like unheard of! In any event the theater has a huge house, WITH a balcony. It has two dressing rooms, a shower and a green room. It is totally equity rules approved. They mean business here. I can't wait to open a week from Friday. I hope everyoen can come!!!

Saturday's Missed Post

Saturday: I was home with my family all day. My four-year-old cousin, Fox, was with us. I filled the little blue kiddie pool with warm water for him and he played for an hour or so, contently and quietly, by himself. I was so tired from being on Duty the night before and having to get up early for another doctor's appointment. After he had had enough of the water, we sat by the chiminea that my father had bought (previously I said it exploded - it did not, though we thought it would, he certainly didn't follow the directions though and now it's black on the outside because of the too-large flames from the first fire he built). We made s'mores and I was happily reminded of camping. They say that smell is the sense more closely connected with memory. I totally agree. I didn't care that after we were done with the s'mores and I went to the city to meet the owner of the Chopin Theatre I smelled like a campground. I didn't care because the scent of the burning would and the roasting marshmallows brought me back ten years to when we would drive our pop-up camper to Wisconsin and spend the weekend by a lake or near the woods. We don't do that anymore. We don't have time and since we sold it, we don't have the camper. It's actually really sad when I think about it. That camper had seen us through years and years of trips, several tornadoes, countless thunderstorms and thousands of miles on the road. I'm surprised it's still alive. But it is, well at least I imagine it is. My dad was so sad to sell it because of all the memories we had made. I told him it was good that we sold the camper, because now the family who bought it, who had a little boy to raise, could take that camper to Wisconsin, to those same campgrounds, and make their own memories.

Thursday and Friday's Missed Post

I am horrible at keeping up with this blog, but I'm trying to get in the swing of things.

Thursday: Stuck in class, work and traffic safety school all day and all night. I had not once stepped out into the decent weather. brutal.

Friday: Saw a car accident just before my doctor's appointment. Two cars had run off the road while trying to avoid hitting each other. They both ended up in ditches on opposite sides of the road from where they were coming. The tow truck couldn't get them out. It was like mother nature was laughing at the booby trap that was the ditches which she had sprung on the two cars. This all took place right outside the Barrington Equine center. The horses had all scattered because of the screaming tires as the two cars crossed paths and fell off the road. I had to take an alternate route - a very dangerous winding road that took me around the back roads of Barrington. Of course when I came around the correct road the cars had been pulled to safety and the way was clear. I was back by the entrance to the Equine Center and it made me want to go horseback riding again. Not that I am a trained horseback rider or do it often, but I have ridden before and have always wanted to do it again. I think that will be my goal this year - to go horseback riding before I graduate. I love the connection one has with the horse. There's such a bond. It's less of riding the horse and having control but relinquishing control or at least sharing it with the animal. Yes, I need to do it again. I just hope I don't find I've become allergic to horses as my mom is.

Wednesday's Missed Post

Wednesday - Well, I didn't go to the beach on Monday, like I had planned. Instead I stayed in all night. I don't know why, but I can't seem to push myself to enjoy the weather. Once again I find myself in the horns of a dillemma. I remember freshman year when I would walk to the beach on many nights. The waves are so calming, the crash so relaxing. When Maria was talking about going to the beach and seeing the water as a mother with open arms, I couldn't have said it better myself. I feel exactly the same way. I love looking at the moonlight dancing on the mirror surface of the water. Despite how cliched that is, it's so true. Just the thought of floating out into the water to let all my problems, thoughts, worries and regrets wash away is so comforting. Maybe that's why I wanted to go to the lake in the first place - to get away. It's my escape - at least it would be if I could tear myself away from all my obligations in the real world.

Monday's Missed Post

Monday - I didn't go to the lake. Why would I? I only had several hours of nothing to do that could've been enjoyed by the beach. That was dumb.

My Car is a Woman's Body

My car is a woman's body.
More specifically, my car is a surrogate mother
To me and the interior,
Her womb.

Inside the car
I am protected from the outside world
Reaching for me,
Clawing at me,
Throwing its demands at me.

When driving in my car
I am separate from everything outside.
I am lost inside
I hear no din from the world.
I let my voice fly
Freely and fearlessly
Knowing that while
The heartbeat of my mother's engine drowns out
The noise of others I am secure to sing in solitude.

My car's name is Shelley.
She can be tempermental and stubborn
And the phrase, "C'mon Shelley"
Has been both a plea for her to do her duty
And words of encouragement -
My vote of confidence that she can make it those last few miles.

She's been beaten,
Scratched,
Egged,
Broken,
Lost,
Scolded.

But Shelley,
My Chevrolet Metro,
Has gotten me through six years of travel
And I know she'll be with me through many more.
She's an old lady,
But has not whithered her.

Late Night Post Make Up

Last night as I sat in my room on duty I thought back on the day, wishing I had joined the many students basking in the sun and warm weather on the lawn. I did go to a barbeque for a while, but I let my bad time management get away from me and now I'd lost the day to homework I put off. I'd been a prisoner of my computer and my room and had had no fun in the sun.

Sunday Night - A Decision

Again I spent the day in doors. I don't know why I'm wasting the time I have to be outside but I feel like my time is so monopolized by my work. I arranged my schedule this semester so that I could have two days off each week - Tuesdays and Fridays. That is not really happening. I've found myself filling those days with meetings, rehearsals, work, naps. Not once have I sat in the quad or ventured to the beach. I loathe that I have really no free time. It seems that I don't have the time to complete anything and when I do have time I'm trying to catch up on sleep. I think that the next evening I have the chance I will go for a walk. I used to love to walk to the beach and listen to the waves. It was just such a relaxing and freeing sound. But now I have no time and more importantly no energy. Maybe, if I make the effort to trek to the beach I will feel invigortated. I would really like that. I think that will be my plan for the week. I have rehearsal Tuesday and Thursday so I will be really tired after that and Friday and Saturday I have duty, but Monday and Wednesday I have nothing in the evening. That's that. Tomorrow night I'm going to walk to the beach, maybe with a friend, maybe by myself. I don't care, either way I'm going to hear those breaking waves in person!

My First Post: Thin and Thick Description

I will explain my blog later but for now, please enjoy this entry of thin and thick descriptions of two locations: Shooting Star Savanna and Hixon Hall.

Shooting Star Savanna:

The Shooting Star Savanna has lots of thick, barky trees reaching up to create a canopy above. It seems to stretch far and wide out north of the Johnson Science Center. Two squirrels scramble down a nearby tree trunk and disappear into the underbrush - a dense carpet of tall grasses accented with striking yellow blossoms atop waist-high stalks. One can hear birds chirping and callin gin the forest beyond and the winds sends a rustle through the foliage overhead. Facing awway from the Science Center into the trees, the only manmade residents of the savanna are the occasional infromational sign and the stone council circle on which one sits. Life and death seem to be one in this landscape as the arbor climbing towards the sky are countered by the lifeless stumps and forgotten logs which pepper the floor of the mini-forest. With the sun hidden by the leafy curtain alone, the wind blows from the south and carries a cold touch of fall. A lone ant mozies the length of a large leaf and comes to settle in the center. Despite the lack of manmade objects, the occaisional roar of a car or motorcycle slices through the rustle of wind. A twig snaps and I look to see the cause but there is no movement. Whjile looking in the direction of the noise a single white flower catches my eye, capturing my attention from the sea of green with its yellow froth. The lone blossom calls my name from its perch next to a tree. It basks in the spotlight the sun has thrown its way.

I can't help but wonder what lies deep in the Savanna. I want to leave the council circle and venture further until I can't see the buildings that for so long have represented Lake Forest College. I wonder if there are more of those beautiful white flowers nestled somewhere else in the wood and what they represent, or if there are none and that white blossom is just another of the yellow ones nearby that was unable to sustain. What then would that mean for this landscape? This is not the first time I have paid a visit to Shooting Star Savanna but I know that many people have never seen it. As the years pass, it seems the new generation of Foresters is aware less and less of their surroundings. They only know of the new student center and the new library and soon the new sports center. Will they come to know or even to visit or at least to know of the savanna before it is cut down and replaced with some new and potentially unnecessary building. I see that lone white blossom and identify with it. It reaches for the sun while the other yellow flowers linger in the darkness, overshadowed by those who came before them. The trees seem to represent the ubiquitous “they” who’ve set precedents and the yellow growths, those who follow. I take my cue from that out-standing white flower and search for my own spotlight.

Hixon Hall:
The converted carriage house on South Campus is a dismal looking structure. It's barn like design does not seem to speak to an actor as an ideal performance space, nor does a random passerby think the building is a theater much less a storage space. The overgrown bushes envelope the side of the building and vines climb the walls and support beams. Several large oak trees shade the building from the sun and cast dark shadows from the lamps that surround the building at night. The cobblestone path leading to the building is cracked from the weight of so many trucks and people trampling to pass the building or unload supplies. One enters the building to see a quaint, some would say tiny, lobby complete with a rickety old spiral staircase which snakes its way to the cozy, some would say cramped, tech booth above. Upon entering the performance space proper, one sees that it is a large black box with dusty risers stacked against the Southern most wall below the booth. The space is intimate, some would size small, and seems to be convertable. Though the room is devoid of color and remains in darkness, nature is not bannished from the area. A leak of rain water plops from several holes in the ceiling and a vine creeps in from the outside. The musty smell of age gives the building its unique, weathered and worn character.

Hixon Hall, and therefore the Alan Carr Theater, holds many memories for me. It was the first college Theater I ever set foot in and it will forever be in my memory as one of the most difficult, dangerous spaces in which I have performed. I have seen cracked floors, shattered windows, leaky roofs. I have experienced broken bones, torn flesh, fights, laughs and love. All in this space. It is my home here on the campus. I come to Hixon to get away from everything else. I come here to smell the must of the mothballs; to taste the heavy air of laughter and tears; to hear the voices of my friends ringing through the rafters and permeating through the walls; to feel my freedom being expressed as never before; to see where my life might be in ten, fifteen, twenty years. Yes, the building is musty, cramped, old, dangerous, smelly. But it is comfort, feedom, love, family and home. Two years ago when the Theater Department decided to make major changes in its operation I saw the reflection of what would happen the Garrick Players in the oldest tree on the property as it was cut down at the roots. The tree had been there as long as Hixon had and to see it destroyed rang through as the future of the company. This building is where I was born and where I've grown up. What would I do without it.