Crazy little thing called love

This week was one of THOSE weeks.
Granted, there was a fair amount of good in it as well.
I just felt so discontent and anxious.
I went for lunch with a teacher from high school the other day and we were talking about needs. Every single person has people they need to see or things they need to do in order to keep functioning. Since I wasn't getting my needs met, my body was mentally and emotionally starting to shut down. Did I mention she has a degree in Psychology? Anyway, so now my job is to sort out everything she said to me and start realizing and putting into practise how I am going to survive the next three months. It's a good exercise to mentally sort through what are your individual needs. An example of one of mine is physical touch. I need hugs. Seriously. I've started to be more aware of the fact that my body notices when it's not being touched. We are sexual beings (read sexgod by Rob Bell for more about sexuality) and touching is a huge part of childhood and I think it needs to carry on through adolescence. All that to say, I need hugs. This same teacher last year (grade 12) watched me make a list of my needs so some of these things have been bouncing around in my head for over a year now. My encouragement: make a list of your needs. Be specific. What do you need from who (spouse, kids, friends, parents, school, living conditions, etc)?

I have decided to put a song of the day up everytime I post. It will most likely be a song i've heard during the day that has struck me. Or an alltime favourite. Or simply good music. Hopefully you will give it a listen.

Song of the day:
The Shade of Poision Trees by Dashboard Confessional

And suddenly there are no more questions...

...just white noise.

Four friends met tonight. There was food, laughter, openness, confessions, addictions, love, God, music, theatre, and honesty. The best night I have had in a long time. It brought me back to school and a community of people that genuinely care deeply about each other. These people are people I have no problem being honest and frank with. There is unconditioned love. We confessed, we cried, we laughed so hard it hurt. This is love my friends. Deep, unconditioned, broken love.

We talked about our show next year. I can’t explain the feeling I get when I think of it. When we start to read Genesis and Greek tragedies I get, well, I get it.

I tend to tell the story of my past quite a bit. This is healing for me. I saw a play this past year where the main character opened with a monologue that talked about each person’s story. And how each time we tell our story, we give a little bit of it away. I don’t believe that fully, but I do believe I am continuely being healed by sharing it. And i’m learning how to embrace my past and use it for God’s glory. Tonight again I was affirmed by what I had shared and I have added more people to my family.

Today I felt the answer to a worn out prayer. I felt peace. Such an amazing peace. For the first time in a long time I am able to stand on my own two feet and be content in my singleness and know that that is what God has planned for me right now. God is good. No, no, no not safe. Good.

I was blessed by this tonight:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who in his great mercy gave us a new birth to a living hope
through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,
to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading,
kept in heaven for you
who by the power of God are safeguarded through faith,
to a salvation that is ready to be revealed in the final time.
In this you rejoice, although now for a little while
you may have to suffer through various trials,
so that the genuineness of your faith,
more precious than gold that is perishable even though tested by fire,
may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor
at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
Although you have not seen him you love him;
even though you do not see him now yet you believe in him,
you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy,
as you attain the goal of faith, the salvation of your souls."

1 Pt 1:3-9

May you find friendship that is unguarded, broken, and good. so good.

Still pluggin away...

I have a couple more pages in Antigone and then I will start writing about it. Seriously, read it if you have a chance (first read a synopsis so you know what the heck is going on), it is so good. I'm really enjoying it.

Another poem maybe...

I measure every grief I meet
With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,
or did it just begin?
I could not tell the date of mine,
It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,
And if they have to try,
And whether, could they choose between,
They would not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled-
Some thousands- on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still
Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
By contrast with the love.

The grieved are many, I am told;
The reason deeper lies, -
Death is but one and comes but once,
And only nails the eyes.

There's grief of want, and grief of cold, -
A sort they call "despair";
There's banishment from native eyes,
In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind
Correctly, yet to me
A piercing comfort if affords
In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross,
Of those that stand alone,
Still fascinations to presume
That some are like my own.

- Emily Dickinson

The first time I read this poem I had dissolved into tears by the second stanza. This really does describe the past year for me. Heartache and grief have shook the very core of who God has made me. Such deep, sorrowful grief. And then I have questions. How do I worship God when I all I feel like is crying? Why do I always end up crying in worship? It dawned upon me one day that maybe my tears were worship to God. Maybe He likes my tears.

A couple years ago I was listening to a lecture down in Fresno at ACTS Seminary and the lady was talking about her adopted daughter who was probably about 3 or 4 at the time. She said that her daughter would have severe temper tantrums where she would kick and scream and punch and need to let out her sadness and anger because she knew that this family was not her natural family. She knew that her adopted family loved her very much but she knew this family looked different than her. Her adopted mother called these tantrums "holding time". She would ask her daughter if she needed holding time and her daughter would climb into her lap and sob and kick and punch and do whatever she needed. Afterward her mother would just hold her and they would sit.

This lady suggested to us that maybe sometimes we need holding time with Christ. Where we can scream, punch, shout, kick our sorrows and anger at him. Where we can sob into His arms without judgement and with the knowledge of an everlasting love. I have often pictured this as I look to accept my past as it is and work at changing my future.

I have a king who does not speak
So, wondering, thro' the hours meek
I trudge the day away, -
Half glad when it is night and sleep,
If, haply, thro' a dream to peep
In parlors shut by day.

And if I do, when morning comes,
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillows roll,
And shouts fill all my childish sky,
And bells keep saying "victory"
From steeples in my soul!

-Emily Dickinson

ps. read it aloud

Antigone

I finally allowed myself to delve into some Greek tragedies this week. And let me tell you it's no piece of cake. I started with Sophocles' Antigone. And promptly got lost. Thank goodness for Sparknotes.

I'll have questions and comments tomorrow.
Go read. It'll be good for you.

Work, work, and more work

I started work. That's all I seem to do, which is good I guess. Keeps me busy. No more sitting at coffee shops for four hours a day for me. I'm still pasty white unlike every other one of my friends because every sunny day we have had, I have been inside a hot and sweaty kitchen for mostly all of it.

Saturday night I went and saw You Can't Take it With You at Pacific Theatre put on by PT and Trinity Western. A marvelous performance. Sometimes I like going to plays and not knowing the story at all and being completely surprised. This was one of those times. Some of the issues that the play brought up are ones I am dealing with right now. This family is living with values completely against normal New York society. They couldn't give a rat's ass about money or prestige and status. But they have family and community and love. You know, those important things that we sometimes forget about.
Quite frankly I would love to make enough money this summer to have enough gas to do what I want and enough to go back to school next year. I was considering the other day trying to go the whole summer without buying clothes. I don't need new clothes, I have more than most people in this world and most importantly, it is no longer important to me to have nice clothes or nice things.

Seeking beauty, loving people, thirsting for the Father who loves me so much. THOSE things are important to me.
Anyway, go see You Can't Take it With You, you will be pleasantly surprised.

mhm...

I watched hockey.
Twice this week.
Do not panic, i'm going to the doctor tomorrow.

Single and Smoking

As I watched a man today ask for a cigarette, get denied, and promptly take a half smoked one out of an ash tray, I began thinking about addiction. The look of desperation in his eyes scared me. I’ve been smoking this year. Not often, and usually cigars not cigarettes. And I know i’m not addicted but then I hear clearly addicted people assure me of that as well. I never want to become like that. Do I really want to be a casual smoker turned addicted? Not really. Not to mention that my art form involves my voice and smoking doesn’t enhance that in any way. The more I watch Sex and the City, the more scenes I see with Sarah Jessica Parker (why do we always use her middle name) with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth or in her hand. This show did not come out that long ago. Are we still trying to give the impression that smoking is sexy? Cool? Harmless?

Saturdays with...Antony and Warren?

So I saw Tuesdays with Morrie on Saturday. The show was alright. Not brilliant. Not entirely inspiring, the story is, but not the acting. Or the set. The show has already toured last year and they have just opened another set of shows for the month of May. Because they have done this show so many times, sometimes actors get caught in the exact same performance every night. Which becomes a predictable, not believable performance. Which is what this was. I felt like every inflection, laugh, and pause had already been planned out for me. There's nothing more boring to watch. The set changes involved stage hands coming on stage while the actors were still talking, sometimes even walking into the light. That distracted me. I wish they either would have waited until the actors were finished or went to a blackout.

Sitting in the show, it looked sold out except for the seat beside me. Go figure. Apparently no one goes to shows by themselves anymore. I would recommend seeing this show, even with its faults, for the sole reason of Antony Holland. At 88 years old he still has every eye on him when he speaks, even when he doesn't, and that my friends is talent. If I was inspired by anything in this performance it would be him and the way he takes Morrie and makes him his own. You can tell he understands the character. How could he not, he could probably relate.

From the Journal:

Let’s play remember that time. Remember that time when Karyn missed her show because everyone in the Fraser Valley decided to go to Granville Island on the same day and fill up all the available parking spots so Karyn could not park. Remember that time she wandered around Vancouver until the 8 o’clock show because she was not going to waste all that gas for nothing. Remember that time everything seemed to be going wrong until she went to get her ticket and found out it was way cheaper than she thought it would be. Cheaper than the matinee even. The things that excite you when you’re poor.

As much as I was pissed off about missing the show, I still love Granville Island a lot so having a good time wasn’t hard. But what bothered me was that for the first time in a long time I was scared of being alone. I was in Vancouver alone. And I was scared.

...Four art galleries and one very long walk around Emily Carr’s design exhibits later, I find myself sitting in a coffee shop in an alley in Granville Island wondering if life could get any better. By the time this day is done I will have gotten to do most of my favourite things. People watch, walk around Vancouver, shop without buying (makes me feel so good to know I have self control), see theatre, look at art, and write about theatre. Sigh. I am content.

...I don’t feel rejected, I feel loved. I can’t believe how much He cares about me. Time and time again I see His faithful unchanging love for me and I feel inadequate enough to fall into His arms and trust. Right now I feel like I have so much love to give, to everyone. I have been so blessed. If God wants me to be single, which I think He has made quite obvious, then that is what I will do and I am actually quite excited about it. I know He is always with me. Weird how all yesterday I had been praying for comfort and when I needed it the most, I was overwhelmed with it.

Tuesdays with Morrie

SUCH a good book. I'm going to see Tuesdays with Morrie today at the Granville Island Stage. It's put on by the Vancouver Artsclub and it runs until May 31. I would tell you to go see it, but seeing as I haven't seen it myself yet, I'm going to hold off.

I went for Friday night dinner last night with a bunch of friends from school. We were at the girls house and one of the girls that lives there is an artist so her paintings were all up on the wall, which are amazing by the way. In a lull in conversation one of the guys looks around and says, "Whats the big deal with art, anyone could do this". He points at a painting, "I could do that in five minutes. Art is so easy".
It was all I could do to keep from punching him in the face.
Really though, I had to sit on my hands.

From the Journal:

I'll be keeping a summer journal as well but most of my writing will most likely find its way on here. Here's from the journal so far today:

I can deal with feeling alone. But feeling lonely is a whole different ballgame. Lonely means I’m going to have to rely on God. What a scary thought. So many times the easy road looks way less exhausting and has less tears involved that I would rather just sit in that. But then I look at how my life has been absolutely flipped upside down by facing hardship and heartache and I know that I have to face my loneliness with my tissues ready.

Murrayville is a great little community. As I sit in a coffee shop in the heart of this tiny community I sense a safe place. I sense a wholesome atmosphere and that is what draws me here, to this tiny corner. I want this to become my writing spot. This place is perfect for people watching. Kathryn Scott, a worship song writer (Open the Eyes of my Heart, Lead me to the Cross) makes a habit of going to coffee shops to write almost everyday and she says that is where she gets most of her songs from. Her journals.

...

I miss reading the newspaper at Sam’s house. It’s strange how many little habits we realize we have when we’re completely out of our comfort zone or living in another person’s presence. I’ve become self conscience of all my little living habits. Like the newspaper. Every morning when I lived at home I would have to hunt down the newspaper, usually from my parents room, and take out the arts and life section (the only section that really mattered) and read it while eating a toasted bagel. The Splinter’s usually don’t have bagels.

It’s funny how your life changes once you graduate. I feel guilty when i’m not doing homework or at school or work. I feel like i’m being lazy and that is probably one of my worst fears. I didn’t realize until this year but laziness really bothers me. Especially when I am lazy. Today I decided I wasn’t going to sit on the couch and watch reruns of the OC, Friends, and Sex and the City.

I can’t even believe the Splinter family sometimes. They treat me like their own. They don’t even know but somehow they understand. Dan does things that a dad would do, like putting on my license plates, after a month of promises from my real dad. Carla knows when i’m having a bad day when my mom still can't tell sometimes. Somehow she knows what not having a family is like. I thank God every single day for that family. It can’t be easy having someone invade their family space either yet they graciously open their home to me. I am beyond blessed. This is how I know God is guiding my life. He wants good things for me. His plans for me are good. GOOD. I have gotten a taste of God’s goodness this year. A little glimpse of what that means. As I explored Isaiah and looked at God’s promises for me I came across several verses that bring me great comfort and peace. “You will also command nations you do not know, and peoples unknown to you will come running to obey, because I, the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, have made you glorious.” Isaiah 55:5

As that promise sinks farther into my heart I realize the goodness of that promise. NATIONS I do not know will come running. What does that mean for theatre? What is God up to? My acting prof’s words are running through my head, “I think this play making process will change your life”. I’m beginning to see change as a good thing when I hear things like that. How will I change? Will nations come running because of this change? Will it be glorious? I think becoming glorious means that the deepest desire of my heart would be to see people glorify God by the work I do. I want that. I looked back at the verse and it says that God has already made us glorious. I am already glorious. I have already affected and been affected.

I love when I read plays with characters that are like my friends. I usually end up laughing when I make the connection because some of the characters are so ridiculous. If you ever see a play and think the characters are a bit unrealistic or stereotypical, chances are if you think about it long enough you could probably find someone in your life that reminds you of that character. The beauty of theatre.

“Zastrozzi -- self-proclaimed master criminal of the world -- is out to seek revenge on his arch-nemesis, the hapless impressionist painter, Verezzi, who Zastrozzi believes killed his mother. Zastrozzi concocts a diabolical plot to destroy Verezzi using Matilda, his sometimes mistress and the most acclaimed seductress in Europe, as bait. A NYTHEATER.com review concluded, "Zastrozzi is all about Heroes and Villains, Grand Gestures and Great Loves. Above all it's about our common love -- and need -- for drama that's larger than life; for outsized personalities treading boldly across life's glorious stage."

I’m reading Zastrozzi right now. It’s a play about a power struggle between good and evil. Zastrozzi is evil. His match is Matilda, a sex fiend who relies on Zastrozzi to give her the meaningless sex she feels she needs (I’ve obviously been watching too much Sex and the City because Matilda reminds me way too much of Samantha). Zastrozzi and Matilda are arguing and he hits her. He claims to be “making a point” while she says that he is “treating [her] this way because [she] is a woman”. His reply is, “Nonsense. Women, men, children, goats. I treat them all the same. I ask them to be answerable”. Is that what we want as humans? Is that what we request from people? For them to be answerable. For them to be responsible to us. Is that selfish to want that? Lately there’s been the theme of silence in my head. What is destructive silence and what is constructive silence and where, oh where, is the fine line between the two? Is it destructive to not be answerable or is it destructive to require others to be answerable?

The Beginning

I lied. I'm not starting from the beginning. Maybe pieces will come out as time goes on but as it stands I will begin with the present.

I am currently living in Langley, BC for the summer. I'm a student at Trinity Western University majoring in Theatre and minoring in Pyschology. The stage drew me in from a young age and i've been in love ever since. I feel so called to be in theatre. I feel most alive when I act. That's all I ever want to do. Which, of course, will not happen as acting happens to be not that "earthly rewarding" as I like to put it. I am ok with that. So this blog is about theatre, acting, God (He's always ends up in my acting somewhere), and my life. Because acting involves all of me, my experiences are also an important part of this blog.