So, I would say I'm a singer. For a long time, actually. I don't get to do it very often, because 1.) I really don't like most musical theatre and 2.) I don't know how to read music. But I've gotten to the point where I can actually admit that I sing, pretty competently. And I've even done it on stage sometimes. For audiences. I'm also trained. I've taken voice lessons with multiple teachers in the past. I've sung in choirs, and even been in a musical or two, despite the hairy eyeball I cast upon the genre. 

Back last fall, when I first signed up for Ladies' Rock Camp on the recommendation of my friend and frequent collaborator Machelle Allman, and was filling out the application, I waffled back and forth between being a drummer or a vocalist. I've wanted to learn drums ever since doing a super female-focused and punk RAWK version of Cowboy Mouth (written, as legend would have it, by Sam Shepherd and Patti Smith, yes, THE PATTI SMITH, while shacking up together at the Chelsea Hotel, passing a manual typewriter back and forth between them) with the most AWESOME thrash band out of Olympia (Tight Bros From Way Back When). At every performance, the drummer would break several drumsticks, and after the show, I would quietly collect the remnants and I still have them today on my little artist altar. Anyway - I decided to be a vocalist, because I felt like doing the camp would be pretty out of my comfort zone as it was, since I don't feel like I am necessarily the most dynamic performer when I am the one who is supposed to be leading the charge. 

The Monday night before camp, I felt the first little tickle in my throat, which just got progressively worse and worse throughout the week, and when time came for camp on Friday morning, the plague had progressed...not sure if it was a mild flu or a bad cold, but I still felt like crap as I entered the Vera Project's doors, uncertain as to whether I should even proceed. I mean: VOCALS? With a CHEST COLD??? Awesome. Having just gotten laid off and not really being in a position where I can just kiss off the something-hundred dollars I'd paid to be part of the camp, I decided, somewhat reluctantly, to persevere. 

Despite many years of stage performances under my belt, I'm more of an introvert than an extrovert. I'm better one-on-one than in groups, especially LARGE groups with lots of people I don't know. So as I entered the big room with all the ladies, and saw many of them sitting already in groups together at tables laughing and talking, I felt shy and intimidated, and went over to sit on one of the couches by myself, reasoning to myself that I was quarantining everyone from my germs. Presently, one, then another of these ladies came over and sat by me, and we struck up a little conversation, and it was nice not to feel totally on the outside. Rachel and Eva, I thank you for that little act of solidarity. 

Eventually, we got herded off to our Instrument Instruction groups, which put me with all the other vocalists. As we went around the circle, there were a couple campers that sounded absolutely terrified either to come up with a song, or to sing in front of people, and tears came up. It was such an honor and a privilege to be in that room and slowly feel the terror shift energetically into something different: a willingness, maybe? An anticipation? Led by Kira and Stephanie, who let all our fears and preconceptions about ourselves and each other air out and transform into support and inspiration.

A little later on, we got placed into our bands. As I got my first glimpse at the women I'd be creating and playing with in that main room, I felt a little uncertain. The four of us are supposed to write a song together? We're strangers. WE can't possibly have ANYTHING in common. I didn't say that, though. I still felt like crap, so I was conserving my energy. No superfluous talk, movement or thought. I think this ended up serving me well. 

And then, of course, the magical Sue Ennis came to gave us our songwriting seminar, as we sat with our newly-formed bands in the main room. I kept looking over at that mural of what I kept thinking of as "Icharus".

OUR BAND: Barb, on guitar. Libby, on bass. Amber, on drums. Me, vocals. And our two coaches, Maggie and Darcey. 

So, this post is a bit of a "test run". When I was in 8th grade, The Day After aired on television. It was the junior high equivalent of a water-cooler topic - we were ALL talking about it beforehand, and we were definitely all talking about it the day after. As a movie, it wasn't the most perfect example of speculative fiction, but it served as great fodder for classroom discussion (especially in the middle of the cold war!). I remember a friend and I, during summer vacation, creating our own fictional bunker in case of nuclear war - we'd spend hours just figuring out how long we'd have to stay underground, who we'd like to bring with us and what kind of sewage/water/food systems we'd have to subsist on.  The Day After was probably my formal introduction to the subgenre, likely the first I'd thought of it, and was the kickoff to a lifetime's fascination.

Sub genre of what, you ask? Is apocalypse/aftermath fiction horror? Is it science fiction? I've long had a fear it will become science FACT. I like the umbrella term "Speculative Fiction". Under its wings you might find Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, etc. And I suppose, depending on the type of apocalypse, you would then go on to put things under those subcategories...zombie apocalypse might fall under horror, whilst robots destroying the world might fit better with Science Fiction. 

​In high school, I read my first Stephen King novel, The Stand, which tells the story of a world decimated through a superflu plague. Another of my friends had also read it, and we spent hours on the phone each night imagining what we might do in such a scenario, where we might travel, what and who we might bring, and how we might rebuild society. Obviously, I was hooked. 

Several decades later, I am no less fascinated and intrigued by the different iterations of fictional apocalypse, and have happily devoured many television, film and book tales with varied and imaginative end times. I’ve even written a couple of post-apocalyptic plays. And there is no shortage of end days’ paranoia, given the current political situation and global climate, to think about. Climate change anyone? Nuclear war? How ‘bout some ebola?  
 
Right now, my intention is to start an entire apocalyptic blog on the subject and of course, all its potential subcategories, because, though I have very little control over things unfolding on the world stage, at least I can have some control over this.  I'll discuss zombies, aliens, asteroids, WWIII, acts of god, no armageddon is off limits, and maybe I'll throw in speculation about how one might survive such a thing, and even discuss putting together different sorts of survival kits for your more run-of-the-mill cataclysm. I'll make book, film and tv recommendations on each subcategory, because lord knows I've consumed a lion's share!

If this is your thing and you're intrigued, feel free to take a look! And if you have any suggestions, thoughts, or ideas on topics you might enjoy reading about within the subject, please feel free to share your feedback.

So, being a woman and having to deal with the whole beauty thing. I was the ugly, fat, weird girl for the first 30 years of my life, bullied and made fun of a LOT, particularly in the last few years of elementary school and Jr. high. Things were always a struggle, I was always on some stupid diet or other that didn't work, it governed most of my waking thoughts through adolescence and young adulthood. And in undergrad, there was no shortage of male acting teachers telling me I needed to lose weight, and that (at 18-22) I was only castable as mothers and grandmothers, and Juliet's nurse. My bottom half, my legs, were especially deplorable.

My body changed drastically the year I turned 30...partially due to finding my purpose in life, and partially due to my esophagus no longer working properly. Suddenly, I had to navigate in this new, thinner body that was more "acceptable" to others. I was still fairly self-conscious about my legs, though an intense exercise in an acting class the year I was 31 made me realize that *holy shit* at least they WORKED and could DO things and I wasn't PARALYZED or anything like that. I got a taste of what it was like to be attractive for the first time, for about 15 years. Then I started aging.

Recently, I was in a show where I was apparently not young/ attractive enough to feature on the poster or postcard (each of the other actors was - it was a 3-actor show). They said that wasn't the reason, but really, what am I supposed to think? I was told I would be the internet presence and that there was an animated GIF. All three of us were on the internet photos, and if there was an animated GIF, it never made an appearance. Again: what a I supposed to think? And thank god I got to wear a long skirt and cover up my legs.

Last week, I started a burlesque class. The first week, we mostly went through the history of Burlesque (which is quite interesting!), and learned a few dance moves and a combo towards the end. As we were going out the door, the instructor said, "We'll be working with stockings next week - boy shorts are better to get stockings on and off than leggings or pants, so just keep that in mind."

OH SHIT. Stockings. Thigh highs. The BANE OF MY EFFING EXISTENCE. I tried them once a looooong time ago, and never did again. Because you pull 'em up, and if you have legs of any girth at all, there is a roll of fat that oozes out over the tops of the stockings. So, the whole week, I am realizing the impact of having signed up for a burlesque class, and I am quietly freaking out that I am going to have to have bare legs, in BOY SHORTS for next class. Part of me considered just never going back. But dammit, I paid $$ for the class, and say what you will about me but I'm NOT a quitter.

So, I put on the biker shorts I use for swimming in the summer. And I looked in the mirror. At all angles. I even turned around and bent over and looked at my back end through my legs. And okay...it was not as horrifying as i had feared. I put on leggings over them. And a skirt. And cute shoes and a top. And went to class.

We did everything else first, and the stockings were the last thing. So there I was. I had pulled the stockings all the way up, and there was that roll of fat at the top. And the instructor was telling us how to take them off so we could keep hold of the band and it wouldn't roll off, and I asked the question "So what if your LEGS MAKE THEM ROLL AUTOMATICALLY???" And was told to do my best, these were cheap stockings, and I could probably find ones that went all the way up, and that garters would help. Hm. Good to know. I worked with it.

And there I was, taking the stockings on and off in different ways, looking at my roll of fat at the top of them. And again...it wasn't that horrifying. And I didn't die. And I didn't even really look that bad. And I really didn't care if I did to other people. And I realized that, despite being 47 and perimenopausal, with big ole veiny, translucent, stretch-mark-covered legs and not conventionally attractive, I am really, really damn comfortable in my skin. EFFING FINALLY. ​

My earliest memory is meeting my great grandmother Bekins. It was at some point before we went to Spain, so before I was 2 years old. She was blind, and it was a dark, dank room – I just remember flashes of being there, but the fact that she was blind left an impression on my toddler mind. My continuous memories really begin in Singapore, where I can piece together a continuity. I have a few memories from Spain, but the earliest really is meeting Great Grandma.
​
Memory is an interesting, and tricky thing – I could pontificate for awhile on the unreliability of memory, or of writing memories down, and then the memory becomes the written memory, but it may not be exact memory. And I am prone to embellishing things to make them more interesting, and/or omitting things that are not that exciting, or that dilute or distract from the essence of the event….and then my mind continues to embellish and omit until the memory becomes something different in my mind, and then when I read the original account, maybe talk to someone who was there, read my journal from that time, etc – I realize that the “story” of the memory has become pretty far flung from what the original event was. Memory is a strange, strange thing.

I got to play Death (And the Maid) >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In a bilingual production of Blood Wedding, my first role with substantial Spanish, and my parents came to town to see it in August. Getting to do Lorca in Spanish...wow. Lorca in Spanish is like experiencing Shakespeare in English, and makes me wonder how much more awesome Ibsen, Chekhov, Euripides, etc must be in their own native languages. 

Even the auditions/callbacks were fun, plus getting offered the role(s) during the callback was a special kind of awesome!

Thanks to Ana Maria Campoy for telling me about the audition, Tina Polzin for casting/directing me & the rest of the ensemble for restoring my faith that things I don’t have a hand in producing can still be fun and transformative.

 
Three of my plays got produced:

Fate Demands It in Orlando for Playwright’s RoundTable Launch 2016! In January

How To Build A Ritual (co-written by Jen Smith Anderson, text arrangement by Richard Buckley, with contributions from the cast)  >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Smashing Reality as part of The Pocket Theatre’s FringeMonth in Oct, with plays by Rebecca Goldberg & Beth Peterson for Splintered, Fractured, BROKE

I also posted 30 new short plays (one per day!) in November for Red Theatre Chicago’s November Writing Challenge, and attended the Write-O-Rama at Hugo House in early Dec where I wrote even MORE and got some inspiration. Thanks to Mandy for joining me as a fellow writer for BOTH...it was comforting to have someone to commiserate/share the experiences with.

I finally made my pilgrimage to Greece. It was amazing and transformative. Highlights:

• Hanging out with Glyka in Athens.
• The entire Delphi experience – deserted Temple of Athena, temple kittens, dining with a view of the entire valley before us, the Kastalian Spring, the slurpee at the museum, driving through Thebes on the way… etc.
• Tomato balls in Santorini.
• Sunset in Santorini.
• Making friends with two Argentines while waiting for sunset, and being able to carry on a conversation mostly in Spanish for 2 hours.
• The free breakfast at the Amalia Hotel in Athens.
• Chicken gyros with French fries and mustard sauce inside.
• Riding the Argo in Thessaloniki.
• Acropolis kitties. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
• Being able to read Greek by the time I left.

​Trip to Vegas and Long Beach in Oct – sad circumstances for the latter (RIP Josh Fischel), but it was extremely wonderful to see so many of my fabulous SPVA tribe again…more intense and heartfelt, due to the occasion, than the reunion in San Diego circa 2010.

And then went back to Vegas to hang out with my nieces (and eat Roberto’s!).

​(photos below)

​Memorable Meals:

• Pizza Rock in Vegas, across the street from our hotel.
• Ian’s birthday brunch buffet at Ivar’s Salmon House on Lake Union.
• My birthday dinner at Tango.
• My birthday dinner #2 at Andina in Portland.
• Also, last time eating at Veritable Quandary before it closed in Portland.
• Post sailing Cuban sammitch at Un Bien.
• Roberto’s in Vegas.
• Did I mention the free breakfast at the Amalia hotel in Athens? Well, it deserves to be mentioned twice.
• Tomato balls in Santorini.
• Discovery of sweet olive jam in Crete.
• And also the Thessaloniki gyros dinner that Saturday night, picked up from the corner gyros eatery a block from our AirBnB.
• Dinner with parents last night in Greece near Syntygma Square.
• Xmas Eve Indian Buffet lunch at Mayuri post Rogue One.
• Xmas/Hannukah Dinner of ham & gyros by our own hands.
• New Year’s Eve dinner at Poppy.

(photos below)

...and then the last two months of the year happened, the world got dragged into the Upside Down, and we have a demigorgon president-elect.

Choppy waters ahead, but I'll get through the with all my people near and far, and my two loves, Ian & Vixen.

Happy New Year to everyone - I know we'll get through this together and hopefully in one piece! Interesting times we have the priviledge of living in...

So, new year, new tactic with this blog I seem to have a bitch of a time maintaining. I know this is not particularly new or innovative, but I think I am going to turn this into a FOOOOOOD blog. Yes. Because we need another one. But you know what? I don’t care. Yes, there are thousands, maybe millions, and guess what? Here is one more!

Why food? What could I possibly have to contribute to the conversation? What could I possibly have to add? Maybe nothing. But it will sure be fun trying. Why NOT food?

Whether or not it’s new, I definitely have things to say about it. What it means to me. The conversations I’ve had about it. The issues I’ve traversed with it. And it seems to be something I come back to, again and again. 

I love food. I love eating it. I love preparing it. I love watching movies and shows about it. It is probably the one thing in my life, besides my cat, that is all about pure joy. I enjoy cooking for others, but I equally enjoy just cooking for myself – it gives me the same joy and isn’t contingent on whether or not someone else thinks it’s good.

What will I write about food? OH! There is SOOO MUCH! I might write about what I have cooked. I might wright about how I’ve used my Xmas ham leftovers! I might talk about the latest episode of Top Chef (which I’ve watched religiously since it’s inception back when I was in grad school). I might talk about my personal struggles with food/body issues. I might talk about garden bounty. And there WILL be pictures! But it will all be related to food and the joy and comfort it brings me.

I don’t want to be a chef – I don’t want to taint something else I love with business aspects, with audience reactions,  with the need to exist in a capitalist society. But it is an interest of mine that I can’t ignore, and perhaps writing about it in a more focused way will help me determine if it has some other purpose in my life beside joy, comfort and nourishment. 

Things I’ve discovered while being on a media diet the past week:

1. I really like to discover neighborhoods and get places on foot.
   
   

So, since I wouldn’t allow myself to just mindlessly turn on the tv last week, I instead went walking every day, either to get somewhere or just for the hell of it. Twice I went on walks specifically to take photographs. Besides just killing time, I achieved: getting exercise, soaking up much-needed vitamin D, using less gas, and finding lots of interesting and beautiful things to photograph. I also made friends with a few cats along the way.

1. Facebook kinda makes me feel bad.
   
   

I only allowed myself to hop on once a day, during the fast, just to check private messages. Today, I woke up at around 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep…so I broke the media diet by checking into my news feed. It wasn’t three or four status updates before I started to feel bad about myself. While I love FB for being able to keep abreast of the goings-on of nears and dears that are far away, and it is definitely a necessary evil for project promotion, I can also count on it to feel like I’m not good enough: not doing enough, or that people don’t like me, or that I am being excluded from this or that. I didn’t feel that way all last week, and that is telling.

1. I need to start reading novels again.
   
   

I’ve gotten into this habit of spending my pre-falling asleep time, which used to be reserved for reading books going on Pinterest and pinning stuff. While I have no intention of giving up Pinterest (see #5), I need to read books again. So, as of tonight, I’m reinstituting the reading novels before bed thing.

1. I love going to the movies.
   
   

Movies were exempt from the media diet, and I went to two of them the past week, which is more than I think I’ve been to ALL YEAR thus far. I love going with people and I love going alone. I miss going more often, and I’ll have to figure out how to build it back in without breaking the bank (Crest Cinema Center, HERE I COME!).

1. I love taking photographs.
   
   

I spent 2013 taking a photo a day for a year, joined Instagram and have really enjoyed photography. I took a bit of a break after I finished the yearlong project, but my recent trip to Portland as well as the media diet refreshed my love for the medium, and so easy to do since I bring my iPhone everywhere. Things are interesting. Life is interesting, and visually capturing it is fun, creative and doesn’t cost anything anymore, is a great creative outlet that doesn’t have to be MY LIFE – can just be an outlet. I used to love taking photos of people – now I love taking photos of inanimate objects and plants.

1. I don’t mind not being up to the minute on current events.
   
   

While it was a bit disconcerting to abruptly find out about Maya Angelou’s death in passing from an acquaintance who assumed it was common knowledge, it was kinda nice to be blissfully unaware of what was going on in the world for a week. I don’t want to be completely ignorant of what’s going on in the world, but I wonder if there is a happy medium between that and the constant infostream.

1. I still love Pinterest.
   
   

I replaced it with photoediting on Instagram, but I missed it. Can’t wait to get back to it. I would give up all social media for Pinterest. It actually makes me feel good when I’m on, and creating image banks and having a recipe bank is productive without being stressful. I just need to figure out how to give equal time to reading fiction again.

1. I still love TV.
   
   

I cut back to only an hour per day, and I missed it. A LOT. BUT, I don’t need to watch as much mindless tv as I have in the past, and certainly don’t need to have the tv on for background noise. Most of the shows I follow are scripted, and I feel like they actually enhance my life and are a good way to wind down…but the mindless, plop down in front of the tv because I’m procrastinating or feeling lazy doesn’t need to happen anymore.

1. I love hanging out with friends. For FUN.
   
   

I feel like most of the time now, I do artistic projects with friends instead of just having non-project fun. I stopped by a friend’s house on the way back from a project meeting last Friday and we just chatted about this and that for a couple hours. It was nice to catch up and even nicer to realize, I can actually hang out with my Seattle-based friends, rather than just looking at their social media feeds to see what they’re up to.

All in all, though it was challenging, it was a positive and somewhat enlightening week for me…what it comes down to is, do I want to be a constant consumer of other people’s images/words/ideas, or do I want to be primarily a producer of my own?