Weekend Premiere

This weekend the Northwestern Children's Show opens.

As I previously promised, below are the final designs for the Asian Folk Tale playbills. Throughout the program you'll notice beautiful renderings from the production designers.

Comments? Criticism? Please.

A longing for रस

I'm missing the rasa, the flavor.
I'm in need of that ephemeral taste in my soul.
Like the instant grin on your face that appears after eating a cheeseburger and smoking a cigarette.
Flavor that comes, not only from the tingle on your taste buds, but from deep within your core.
Like the unexpected convulsion of whimpers and sniffles you can no longer repress

(And only afterward realize that you don't remember why you were even crying in the first place).
The feeling that proliferates after seeing something cathartic.
I long for this rasa, this flavor.
Call me Henri-Marie Beyle.
Call me Graziella Magherini.
But when you feel it, you know it.
That feeling that overcomes you and thrusts you into a state of shock.
Bharata knows what I'm talking about
Aristotle and Horace get the idea.
They understand that when this Stendhal-ic sensation latches onto my mind,
Nothing can compare.
Nothing.
Because when Hamlet cries out,
O, I die, Horatio.
The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit.
I will be there.
I will be hunched over in my seat, convulsing and grinning and tingling,
Soaking up every last piece of special and general revelation.
Because I know this feeling lasts only as long as the length of the curtain.
And when the lights go down, I'll remember the fugacity.
I will sit in my chair remember the taste of catharsis on my lips.
Because this feeling,
This sensation,
is euphoria.

Masking the Void

Last night, I pulled my first all-nighter of the school year. With 18 credits, a student initiated musical, a workstudy position, and design deadlines stacked up neatly on my table of responsibilities, doing homework at the Dutch Bakery until 6:00am was completely inevitable.

I over commit myself, I think most people do. In today's society, sleeping has become not so much an act of necessary rejuvenation for our bodies, but an optional quick recovery period, that only reboots our batteries with just enough juice to finish our latest project.

After thinking though all of this, I find myself asking the basic question. Why do I over commit myself to endless responsibilities? Unfortunately, I actually don't have an answer for this.

A few days ago I found myself in a situation that helped me understand a little further. A friend of mine asked me to assist him with a big project he was working on. I clearly didn't have the time to commit, but I said yes.

In the moment, I didn't think about all the rescheduling I would have to do, or all the nights I would spend catching up on homework assignments, or all the hours of sleep I would have to forfeit.

In the moment, I could think of nothing other than how this project would add a little speck of purpose to my life.

Perhaps that's the answer. I'm afraid of what would happen without the hustle and bustle. The eerie silence that drifts over a meaningless life is a frightening apprehension. Because when all the plays, classes, dates, parties, and smoke breaks are over, what is there left to do? Filling my ical with events and rehearsals is the only thing that masks the void. Does the illusion of purpose protect us from the reality of being unimportant?

In the meantime, I've added yet another responsibility.

abs.

Love. Forwards & Backwards

They're finally here. Yes, the poster designs for my upcoming student initiated musical. The Last Five Years. Enjoy. Leave comments and criticism, please.



abs out.

Fuck the Neevil

I wrote this blog in order to fulfill an assignment for my philosophy class. I hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot by posting it here. This is only a glimpse of the ideas I'm wrestling with lately.

* * * * *

"What did he [Aslan] say had entered the world--A Neevil--What's a Neevil?"

Aslan wasn't talking about a Neevil nor a Weevil. Aslan was informing the 1st council of Narnia that an Evil had entered into the country.

In The Magician's Nephew we learn that Evil entered into the world from an outside force. An intruder had invaded into a new territory, even though Narnia was intended to be pure and untainted.

However, in our world we are taught that evil came from within. An inside force had fallen from its place in perfection and became the source of evil in our universe.


I've often wondered where this idea of Evil falling from heaven came from. I did a little Bible and Wikipedia work and discovered some interesting ideas. Within the Bible, I found this passage:

How you have fallen from heaven,
O morning star, son of the dawn!
You have been cast down to the earth,
you who once laid low the nations!
-Isaiah 14:12

After a quick Wikipedia search I discovered many other stories. The Hebrew Apocrypha is a fascinating little book! In the book of Enoch we find that Satanael is the prince of the Grigori, who was cast out of heaven. The Grigori was a tribe of fallen angels who mated with humans and bore creatures known as Nephilim! These creatures are actually mentioned in the Bible, Genesis 6:4 and Numbers 13:33.

Where does all this come from?! How are these people able to interpret a history that came into existence before themselves? Did God teach the authors in history class, right after he explained the happenings of the Job story?

I sometimes wonder if we look too much into these stories. Maybe we shouldn't try so hard to put a face with the Neevil, I mean Evil. What if Evil is just some negative force that really doesn't derive from anything? It just exists.

Sometimes I find myself questioning the Bible's fallibility. How are the stories in the "certified" Bible any more legitimate than other stories, such as the Apocrypha?

For the Love of Photoshop

As the Northwestern Theatre Department Publicist, I've been given the opportunity to sit at my laptop for hours fiddling around on expensive photo editing programs. Oh, did I mention these hours go toward my theatre scholarship? I know, right? totes legendary.

My first project has been the poster for the upcoming children's show Asian Folk Tales.


The majority of the design is a watercolor. I added a few layers of different textures to add depth.

What do we think?

Program design to come later.

abs.

An Act of Desperation

We all try to avoid confrontation (at least to some degree). For me, the vexatious realization of coming face to face with my overdue homework assignments causes just enough trepidation to evade them for another week. This simply cannot happen. Tonight has been a rather unsuccessful attempt. It seems I've done everything possible to avoid the inevitable. However, I've finally reach the point of desperation. I've exhausted all possible outlets. I've no other option, but to blog.

I'm blogging to avoid my Principals of Sociology Journal.

Pathetic, right?

Thankfully I'm not alone. Confrontation is horrifying to everyone, no matter what the subject matter (matter matter matter!). The thought of accosting any form of negative energy can make even the staunchest man go the extra mile just to avoid it. Even if it means smoking a pack of cigarettes and consuming overt amounts of donuts from the local bakery at 3 in the morning.

Eventually, we all need to face our fears. Perhaps we need to initiate a long overdue conversation with our parents, patch things up with a friend, or even just write a simple 1 page journal entry that was due 2 fucking weeks ago (no resentment, I swear). I like to think that fears exist only for the sole purpose of being conquered. They are put on earth only to make us stronger human beings.

I'm beginning to feel the repercussions of staying up this late. The more I write, the less sense I seem to make. I must be sleep drunk. A perfect opportunity to begin my homework, wouldn't you say?

I am such a hypocrite.

Anyway, in the words of Ted Mosby's mother,

Nothing good happens after 2 am

Flourishing Friendships

As I sit on the floor of my room, nibbling on snow peas and sipping Perrier Lime, I can't help but notice something beautiful flourishing before my eyes. Two beautiful human beings sitting on the couch, clutching matching macbooks, sipping matte, and carrying on in pleasant conversation. It's truly a remarkable sight. No unnecessary tension, no awkward displays of affection, and no heated discussions over pointless matters.

A pure relationship at it's finest.

As the school year progresses further into the semester, friendships sometimes begin to unravel. New relationships progress too quickly or perhaps old ones are found to be stuck in some unhealthy rut. Jealousy, overt competition, and gossip are only a few negative idiosyncrasies I've seen come between friends this year.

When the ties you have created with others are fraying into thin twine and the relationship doesn't seem to serve the same purpose as it once did, perhaps it's time to reevaluate the roots. Everything starts for a reason. And when you think back to the basics I hope you'll remember all those positive idiosyncrasies that made everything worthwhile.

As for the couple sitting on my couch? Well, that would be my roommate and his girlfriend. And after spending only a few moments with them, it is clear their relationship is founded on strong roots.

Morning Peace

In my tangible pursuit of being a more positive and encouraging human being this year, I've found the journey to be less of a challenge when I put myself in situations where I don't feel the need to voice my built up negativity. To do this, I surround myself with good things. Good friends. Good events. Good foods.

My favorite of these is a simple morning ritual. It's nothing extravagant, yet it gives me the positive boost I need to carry out the rest of my day.

On most mornings, you can find me sipping coffee, at my favorite place, with my favorite person.

I guarantee, if you talk to me then, I will be happier than any other point in a given day.

abs.

[conformed]

Yes, blog buddies, what you read is true.

I conformed.
I can see that look in your eyes already; confronting me with scowls of shame and disappointment. Of course, you're probably wondering what it is I conformed to. My dearest gentle readers, I stand before you today admitting my serious felony:

I am--a hipster.

We all saw it coming, and it's best to get this out into the open before I fall back into denial.

I sport the cardigans, skinny ties, and outdated fake glasses. My possessions boast a variety of collectibles from Goodwill and Urban. My vintage afghans are stacked loominously or luminously next to my record collection (get it?), and my unique figurines have occupied the space where my books once resided.

My lifestyle is festering with the movement known as the Hipster era.

However, my greatest transgression has yet to be disclosed.

I have purchased--a pair of toms.

Gentle readers, please keep a tight grasp on your rotten tomatoes for one moment and let me explain. Alright?

They are so cute! Seriously, have you seen them? After taking one look at these over priced foot-wraps, how can you not (for a moment) understand my selfish desire?

Okay, okay. aight!? I admit. I have taken this identity crisis too far. Thankfully, it's time for the resolution and denouement part of this blog.

As a human being attempting to survive in this messed up society, I will continue remember the important things. But when this world passes away, what is really all that important? My vintage Hair poster? Or the memory of driving into the country with my best friend at 3am just to see the stars?

Hipster, hick, or human. We all need to converge our attention to the truly beautiful valuables. Those moments in life when honesty is the only thing hovering between two beautiful persons.

Find those moments. Accentuate them. Live honestly. Go barefoot.

I will do the same.

abs.

Just another day.

Monday sucks. It's fact of life. There is no logical explanation for this unnatural phenomenon, and questioning this weekly epoch is futile. Sometimes it's best to blindly follow the church of Garfield.

Although today was certainly no reason to jump off of a bridge, it was enough for me to spend my whole day cooped up in my room watching endless episodes of Weeds, smoking endless packs of cigarettes, and putting copious amounts of ice on my slightly bruised head. bruised?

Today, for whatever reason, I fainted. I was alone, in my room.

You know that feeling you get when you stand up too quickly? It's a strange sensation; like someone hit the dimmer switch on my brain. I stood up from my couch (to go to class) and suddenly felt the repercussions of my seemingly impeccant actions. My knees gave out and I instinctively reached for the nearest station of stability. Unfortunately, my loose bed sheets weren't enough of a stronghold to support my balance. Needless to say, I came to, on the floor, with a pile of pillows and blankets on top of my languished body.

Perhaps I am overreacting, but the lump on my head says otherwise. Yet, I can't help but think of a quote by Shane Botwin (A character from Weeds).

"Something happens today, something else will happen tomorrow"

Shit happens. Everyday. A silly fall is nothing to get worked up over. Not getting cast in a show is nothing to cry about. Yet, we do. And it's okay that we do, but we mustn't dwell. It's unhealthy.

We just need to pick ourselves up and understand Mondays don't last forever. It's just another day. There is always tomorrow.

My lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand.

If I wish to function properly and healthily in a new society, I need my space; my sanctuary. In previous years of living in an all male dorm hall, this sanctuary has been difficult to come by. However, this year, amongst the hustle and bustle of many poorly hygienic fellow college hall mates, I have been able to dwell and exist in a space that I can truly call a sanctuary. Yes, of course, I have a roommate sharing the same small space as myself. But for whatever reason, this year, our differences have somehow melted together into the perfect equation for living in harmony while still abiding to our own private needs (I hope he feels the same).

Tonight, while my roommate is at the library (his own sanctuary) working on some homework (that I should also be doing), I am sitting my warmly lit dorm room, watching Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet and eating pistachios and dill pickle potato chips (a taste few people can truly appreciate). It is moments like these that help me truly appreciate the tranquil beauty of the Sabbath, whether it is religiously focused or not.

It seems my Kim Possible ringtone is the only thing holding me back from true peace. Perhaps I will do the impossible and turn my phone off for the evening.

ABS out.

Do the vibrations of the cyber world and the physical world collide?

As I sit here, waiting for someone to text me back, I realize I'm sitting here on this couch waiting for something much more than a response. This something is undefinable. Nothing can describe this urgent gut feeling of waiting for this unknown force. As I continue to sit here, on this couch, I realize this is couch not the entire base of where I sit. I also sit on the rug, the floor, the next 2 floors down , the basement, the cement, the dirt, the entire earth, the stars south of us (Whichever way is south now, I surely don't know), more dead space, and then finally infinity. Everything is spinning, orbiting the other universes. And all these universes are all held, in the protection and care of something! Everything belongs to somebody, right? Right. So we are ALL waiting on this something to tell us WHAT it is exactly we are waiting for! What if this something is actually a somebody? So I not waiting for something but instead, somebody. Who am I waiting for? What does he need me for? Is he even a he? she? it.

If you're out there...

Undefinable creature. Why am I waiting for you? Meet me soon.

[welcome h*ome]

Moving back into the school scene is always a little rough, but so far this year has gone fairly smoothly. Of course, nothing is absent of setbacks. It's either a) discovering you are two credits short of being a junior, b) not getting cast in the favored show of the season, c) paying 500 dollars out of pocket for assorted charges and fines, or d) all of the above. I won't say the answer, but just know it's a Dog eat Dog world out there, Dammit.

However, there is always a handful of small blessings that keeps us peddling along throughout the week. For starters, I moved in into Colenbrander 315 with the ever lovely Rascal (Granted it's no Heemstra, but at least there won't be any staph infection breakouts this year). Our room has become quite eclectic with assortments of different blankets, pillows, mirrors, lamps, and strange oddities (located from several different thrift stores). We're calling our room Grandma's Attic. Lovely, isn't it? I think it will catch on.

I have also been faithfully attending design meetings for the upcoming children's show, a collection of Asian folk tales. At first the collaborative process was a little frustrating, but lately things have been going much more smoothly.

Oh, oh! I shouldn't forget to mention that my friend, Sarah Fisher, and I will be putting together a student initiated production of Jason Robert Brown's musical "The Last Five Years". We have begun rehearsals and plan to perform sometime mid October.

Overall I would say I am enjoying my time back in the great OC. Although I'm taking 18 credits, I enjoy all my classes, and look forward to other positive things to come my way this semester.

But what am I doing online on a gorgeous Friday evening? In the words of Charlie Brown, "I should be outside playing, getting fresh air and sunshine" Did I hear somewhere that Pumpkin Land is finally open?



ABS.

(PS: This whale mug is at a Belmont Army in Chicago. Someone please buy it for me)