Object Relations

Greetings Blogonauts!

I have officially moved. My internet is working and I have cable again. Awesome! On a side note- if your cable company offers a DVR box for as nominal of a fee as ours and you haven't ordered it yet you are crazy. I am no longer at the mercy of the schedule. I will watch American Idol when I damn well please.

So moving was AWFUL!!!!! I don't think there is a more humiliating, grueling, torturous experience available to the modern homo-sapien. I hemoraged money I don't have. I fell down a set of stairs. I poured over the contents of my life, and I'm still trying to sort stuff out here on the other end. I have had a brief haulting illness, but thanks to the miracles of cultured molds- I am well and kickin'.

Moving got me to thinking about Object Relations. The part of psychology that says we develope the way we do because of our experience of and therefore relationship to objects. I suppose that moving is like analyzing each echoe of these experiences. There is something oddly cleansing that happened for me. My old house held a lot of history for me. Including the last bits of my addiction- which were the darkest. I tried like hell to use this jarring rite of passage as a sort of skin-shed. I made an effort to analyze the objects I had in terms of purpose and sentiment. It turns out that there were literally hundreds of effects that had at one time or another seemed personally meaningful that really were just junk. As I packed endless boxes and filled bags of trash I took a journey that started with my move from Denver.

My time in New York has been such a wild ride. I have learned a lot about who I am, and have made a great deal of improvement on who that is. So I paired down the keepsakes of a fading childhood, of mis-fired love missiles, the mementos of days which left marks and rotting roots that still reach west. I picked through the touchstones of people I have lost and of people I still hold close. I stopped through moments of my life frozen in the photographic image. I came face to face with the voration of my own consumerism. I took an inventory of the objects that have turned my development to the course it is on, and I put it all in boxes.

I am officially a resident of NYC. The subway is right there. The objects I kept and moved are mine, they are me, and now I am set to the process of erecting my new life here. What an awesome step. I was terrified of making this move because I was so comfortable in my old environment. Now I am smittened with the new neighborhood, and the seemingly limitless possibilities that lie at my public transportable feet. The dogs are mesmerized with being city dogs, and all habits seem healthier on their parts. I don't think they have any idea why we take part of our morning walk in the car, I just can't explain alternate side parking to them somehow.

I am feeling hopeful, and unburdened. Comfort is a tricky little thing. A friend of mine works in therapy and believes that as soon as she gets comfortable in a job she has served that situation all that she can. I suppose Long Beach served me all that it could. I think that 2004 will be the start of great things.

Craaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzy

OK Kids! I am dismantling my computer right now and packing last minute items for the move. I won't be back until the 13th. When next we meet i will be an Astorian. Be well!!!!!

Backstage.com

Our humble little company seems to be getting a good deal of attention rather quickly here in NYC. I'm so thankful to be a part of something that's got the theatre press buzzing.

Check out the article:

Backstage.com

In the meantime. I am officially a NYC resident. We have signed a lease, picked up keys, and we're shipping off to Queens on Wednesday. I will probably be away from the blog for a WHILE. Look for me from my new home in mid Feb.
Best wishes all!

Unidentified Human Remains...

Unidentified Human Remains...

"Oberon Theatre Ensemble's revival of Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love is revelatory."

"The cast is exemplary."

"WT McRae is engaging and disarmingly youthful as Kane."

Another Opinion is in! I Can't believe this one!!!!! They Love Me The Really Really Love ME!

Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love

Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love

Here it is! My first actual NY theatre review. I think that this fellows opinions are uneven, but he seemed to enjoy me which I like. So the headline reads:

OOBR calls WT's performance "convincing and interesting. . .genuine and heartfelt."

I'll take it.

Cheeseburger Side of Karma

So lately I've noticed that I tend to seek the same kind of immediacy I have been trained to expect from not only fast food and high speed internet access, but from karmic justice. I find myself thinking things like: "I let those people in on the way over, maybe I'll get a good parking spot." or "Why is this happening?. . .I've been nice to everyone since lunch." I caught myself doing it yesterday and had a good laugh at my own expence. I think that karma is probably more relative. People that lead good lives, who make the effort all the time probably do get rewarded. I suppose if you are really understanding karma, then the bad stuff is part of it too. One who is really respecting the universe would look at the misfortunes as blessings because they bring lessons with them. Look at that! I'm still not as evolved as I'd like to think I am. OH well! Can I get a large humility with that?

Opening Night

OK!
An arduous process has come to an end. The set is up, the lights- hung and focused, sound cues ready and the whole project is in place. I haven't really slept in a week, and my toes may very well be frost bitten. NY is so cold I can't think straight. The puppies still pretend they want to be outside, but when they get snow between their little pads they can't take it and we come in. I am very excited to see what an audience thinks of this show. The piece is crazy! Nakedness and all. Tonight my rump will make its off-off Broadway debut. All I need is 2 ons and some pants.

Insanity

At Last! Insanity has been restored and life has returned to a post holiday roar. The season passed without a terrifying disaster and here we are. Mom and Dad landed in safety this evening back in Denver while I was in the midst of a somewhat terrifying Act II stumble through. For those of you who are unfamiliar:

Stumble Through- The exhilerating and often disastrous moment at which all of the individually crafted pieces of a play are put together for the first time, and the connective tissue (or lack there of) is discovered.

Tomorrow we begin running the entire show. I think it's going to be good. I sure am enjoying the work. Also tomorrow, begins the search for a new place to live. BA BA BUM. . .

Here is the link to: Our Show

Tourism Up.....Productivity DOWN

I have really been enjoying my holiday season. It is so great to have my parents here. I think this knitt
ing thing could be getting rediculous. I can't stop! It's a great way to pass time on the train, and at rehearsals, but It is threatening to consume me. I am in the process of making my dad a scarf. I was so relieved when he admitted to me that although the red and blue chenile scarf was lovely and well-made, that he would rather have something more conservative. I found some great cashmereno yarn that I am in the process of knitting up as we speak. I should be done by the new year. I want to pick up the stitches on the side and knit a border so it will curl less, but I'm not sure how to do this yet.

In other news. Rehearsals are going great. We are in that newly off-book stage where nobody's sure what comes next, and the pacing goes to hell, but I'm starting to see it come together. When we come back from New Years we start doing full runs of the show. I can't wait!

The tourists are in Manhattan in full force. Eighth avenue is slower than (pardon the phrase) Christmas, and although I'm glad that people enjoy this great city and bring us all of the commerce, I'm ready for everyone to go home. I am getting really tired of tripping over people who can't figure out which way is uptown and which way is down. I hate weaving through mobs who don't understand that if there's no traffic coming you ignore the little red hand. Times Square sucks anyway, but I have to get off of the subway there, and there are sooooo many people right now it's sickening. I will not be enduring The New Year's Eve Madness. I will be safe at home with puppies, parents, and knitting enjoying a tourist free night. That's my rant.

Christmas Pics

Tree Panic

So here we are at the eleventh hour of Christmas preparations, and everyone else is panicking about gifts. I actually thought ahead about the gifts for my immediate family and have had those done. I had planned to set my various Christmas trinkets out and clean the house today. What I discovered this morning is that I NEEDED a tree. I realized that I couldn't possibly cope without having one. It turned out today was the day to go buy a tree and decor. Everything at Michael's was half off or better. I got a tree with the lights all woven in. I have always been a big fan of the family style hodge podge tree, but since I don't have the family ornament collection here I went with a theme tree. I did the tree in purple and white with red and gold accents. I covered it in Poinsettas in all 4 colors, and gold tassles with assorted balls. I found a purple and white angel for the top. I LOVE IT! Thank goodness for the tree. I hope you all have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS! I will write again soon.

Mistletoe and High Alert

Well my display isn't updating, but we are officially at nation wide terror alert level high. I find myself dreaming of explosions in the Lincoln Tunnel. I can tell that this morning I will be white knuckling it across the GW Bridge. I am officially terrorized. I'm not sure if this is because of terrorists or because we have such a vigilant warning system. Last night as I was driving home from Manhattan I kept wandering through scenarios of what would happen if my parents plane had been the one to be ripped from the sky. I imagined getting the kind of phone call that everyone dreads. I was truly relieved to get the call from them to say they were safely on the ground.

I love this city. I can't explain the way it felt to stand on the Long Island Sound, and feel the rumble when those towers fell. My nose still remembers the smell of that tragedy as it hung in the air, and the sight of the fire-fighter next door trudging home for many nights in his dress uniform. I hate the terror alert system. What am I going to do? Know that it could get me? Great! I get it. So in the midst of our Christmas panic, the roots are not just last minute shipping. . .Are those presents ticking?

Operation Open Up

I would consider myself to be an open and emotionally centered guy. Especially for a guy, and as long as your not trying to date me. After all, my career choice is about displaying the emotional contents of my soul publicly in a restricted scenario. (ACTING) I have always felt like I had a good instrument and methodology for accessing the marrow of my emotions and using them in my work. I have either been deluding myself for several years, or I blew the top off of this yesterday. I had a real breakthrough in class.

For those of you who do not know, and didn't figure it out in the last paragraph, I am an actor. I take a musical Interpretation class on Wednesdays with a fabulous woman named Kimberly Vaughn. This is a class that deals with the acting and performance of musical material. I have had some real trouble when it comes to singing. I get super nervous, and therfore not very good. There are many theories among acting fellows that suggest singing requires the most open vessel, namely people. One draws energy from the earth, pushing it out from their center, and using it to vibrate through the throat chakras in order to make a sound. This is a pretty intense energy flow if you think about it. If we are trying to block any of the impulse or emotion that is coming up with that energy, we begin to block the sound, and our vocal production goes down the tubes. Not to mention our storytelling. I had been doing some decent story telling in class so far, but my sound had not been up to what I thought it could be. Yesterday I learned that this is because I was limiting the emotion I allowed to come through.

Our teacher uses a grounding (or centering) method that uses principals of bio-energetics. The method is standing on a dowel with a pressure point in your foot, and leaning into it. Then you begin to rlease vocally saying "GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!" On the other side the release is about taking space and time and control so you say "It's MIne!" Yesterday I found that the pushing out of the negativity was a particular release. When I switched sides and began to take the good energy, I was doing the actions, but I was not saying that IT IS MINE. My teacher pointed this out and I began to focus on really claiming my space and positivity. As I did this, energy began to tingle up my feet and legs. My center got warm, and my whole back released and fell into alignment very comfortably. I felt more present, aware and open than I had in my whole life.

I began to perform the piece I was working on this week, and I found that my whole instrument was so free and open that the work was no longer work. When I stopped and recieved corrections they did not feel like attacks, and I knew instantly how to manipulate the work. My second run of the song was clear, honest, and my voice sounded like honey. It was exactly what I had been trying to do with this piece for weeks. My teacher made it a point to show me that it was the full spectrum of emotions that gave this piece the color it had just been endowed with. She said "It's ok to be ugly sometimes. Not all of our emotions are gentle and pleasing." This seemed so obvious, and yet the action of recieving permission for my darker emotions in a state of such openness made me cry. I usually would stop this crying instantly in front of a class of people. I decided to let it out. There was a flood of tears behind a dam I have built upon for a long time. The tears came, and went quickly, and when they were gone I realized that the dam was much more intense than what it was containing.

So I learned:
I am not as open as I would like to think I am.
There is a well of things that I do not share because I don't think that they are inspiring or worthy.
The fear of feelings is much worse than the actual feelings.
&
Once I arrive for the work. The work begins.

The true challenge is how to remain open and vulnerable like this. Ah the quest of an actor. For now I'm going to have more coffee and glow about my breakthrough.

Precipitation

OK! I understand that the sky can only hold so much water before it must be returned to the earth. But for crying out loud could it please find a front that's well below freezing to drop it through? I woke up to freezing rain pouring down. I could hardly rip myself from the comfort of my bed. How does one make a rainy morning appealing? The puppies have no idea why it's rainig. They hate it. Soon I will trudge out into the wetness to battle a wet dirty city. It's Christmas time in the city?

Christmas Songs

It has officially begun. The Christmas spirit has worked its way into my heart and brain and is pouring out of my mouth. This happens to me every year, and I kind of love it. I am singing Christmas Songs. In the shower, on the street, in every train car I visit, and everywhere else I go, I am caroling at the top of my lungs to all the people not listening. My roomate says he hates Christmas songs, but I love them.

Today I was singing on the train platform with my eyes closed, when I opened them there was a little asian-american woman standing there watching and listening. It startled me a little when I opened my eyes. She asked me to keep singing. I started singing "Oh Come, Oh Come Emanuel" I was instantly transported back to high school. . .

Junior Year. I was in a jazz choir called Northern Lights, and we performed Christmas tunes all over Denver. There was one night each year that we performed at the country club in my housing development. I remember standing in the dining room singing 'Emanuel' on a cold winter night. The fire was crackling. The room was filled with well dressed smiling families. The windows had little frosted curves at the corners of the mullions and muttons, and the whole room was done in garland, holly and mistle-toe. I was singing with 19 people I loved very much. I remember feeling at that moment as though life would never get any better than that. As if that was the quintessential Christmasy moment. In my mind that moment still feels like warmth and comfort resting against cold snow. I can still smell pine logs burning, and hot apple cider. I love that memory.

When I opened my eyes the woman had a tear in hers. She said "Thanks, that made me feel like Christmas." I smiled and we got on the train. I guess there really is something to the idea of the Christmas spirit. I've found it twice now, and the experiences felt the same though they couldn't be more different.

I'm Back!!!

I have been out of the habit of posting for almost a week now. I'm so sorry.

It snowed this morning. I woke up to find a blizzard surrounding my world with white love. The dogs and I went to play for a minute, but they got cold and we came in for treats and coffee. I settled in to a quiet morning of knitting and coffee. I also wrote a letter of reccomendation for my good friend Maryanne. I was quite worried about saying the right things, but it is so easy to write about the merrits of such a talented human being. The knitting is something I was able to take up this week with the aid of a few books. I love it. It may be a passing craze, but right now, my head is full of scarfs, hats, and eventual sweaters. So my Sunday started off absolutely lovely. Then the snow stopped. There were about six inches on the ground.

After about 20 minutes of clear skies and glistening white wonderland. The temperature broke freezing, and it began to rain. It began to pour. The heavens tore open and dumped freezing sheets of water. All of that beautiful snow became deep layers of mucky slush. This was about the time I had to leave for Manhattan. All of the Mass Transit System relies on so much walking. I usually see this as a good thing. I arrived at rehearsal with soggy pants, wet socks, drippy boots, and a pile of wet winter gear. Rehearsal was good, but the trip back was even wetter and colder than the trip there. By the time I got home, my soul felt cold and soggy.

The good news is I was home in time to watch Angels in America: Part II on HBO West. I'm so impressed with Mike Nichols vision for this project. Tony Kushner is a genius. Meryl Streep is versatil and amazing. I think Patrick Wilson (Joe) is amazing and beautiful at that, and Jeffrey Wright blows my mind. Basically I loved everything about it. What a heartbreaking, beautiful story!!!!

I'm starting to feel panicky about the impending Holiday, but I'm looking forward to it too. I hope we get more snow, and less rain.

Angels in America

OK WOW! I just invested three hours in Angels in America: Part I. What a fantastic journey that was! I can't wait for part two.

Snow Day

It snowed all day! I wrapped the pups in their polar fleece and took them out several times. Their collective reaction to the snow goes something like this: "SNOW! SNOW! SNOw! SNoh!? S-NO! snOH MY GOD IT"S COLD. . .Let's go inside and have a treat!" Then five minutes later a scratch at my leg because they want to go see the white stuff again. During intermediate botherings I open the door to the deck. One puppy at a time they bounce out into the drifts and take about three leaps before their bellies get cold, they run inside, and shake the snow all over the bed. Suddenly my excitement for the snow feigns as quickly as theirs.

Meanwhile I spent the day snowed in rehearsing for my Babar show this weekend. It is so hard to find motivation to work in the middle of your own living room. What with electronics and puppies and food. I feel like I know the show pretty well, but I wish I had worked a little harder. I got to talk to three of my good friends tonight, all of whom write brilliant things. All in all, it was a good night.

For those of you who followed some of my earlier posts about the student I'm tutoring, I'm afraid I'm growing less optimistic. Our sessions together become more like cruel and unusual punishment each time we meet. She doesn't want to work. I don't want to fight. The dogs don't want to be a distraction any more, and her guardians don't want to discuss our sessions with me at all. I keep trying to get a moment with the girl's parents to discuss a string of things I notice, but they refuse to have a conversation away from her ears. The result is that any difficulties I try to adress become another excuse to yell at the poor girl. I think perhaps if they would take an interest other than anger, and start piloting this young girls education in a real way, there might be somewhere to go. Since this isn't the case, I have come to represent an extension of the angry parents, and one more thing for her to fail with. On one hand I feel like structuring our sessions around being an ally to this little girl, and see what work she gets done out of actual desire might be helpful to her; but, this begins to tread more counseling territory than tutoring, and while I'm quite intuitive, I'm simply not qualified. On the other hand, If I can't find a point at which she wants to learn, and foster an environment where she works for herself, all of the work we do becomes a means to an end. The end. She will do anything to make it stop, and I feel as if no real information is capable of penetrating. What I really want to do is grab her parents and shake the shit out of them until they realize that yelling is not working. I think that is probably out of the question. Any-hoodle. . .

The white shroud has made all seem peaceful and calm around here, and I am going to curl up in front of the great mind-sucking box. Sweet Dreams all!

Lady Winter

It's cold! Winter has made a grand entrance and she is standing in the sky fussing about herself. She throws her head back and sighs with all of the indignation one would expect from a woman who has not been taken out in nine months. She tosses her silver tresses to and fro and streaks the sky with mysterious glints of white. Father Day and Mother Night Illuminate them in vibrant reds as they dance the dusk. Meanwhile Winter's footmen begin to prepare the petals of the snow-flowers which grow about her when she sleeps, that they may be thrown before her feet as she walks.

In the lower spheres, hats and gloves polka dot the sidewalks. Cities fill with bundled people bustling quickly from building to building. Gone are the days of skin-bare boys and girls playing on the piers. We have moved inside for spiced apple cider and sweet breads. We harvest the stores and prepare for eminent snow fall.

Lady Winter laughs sweetly to see us shiver.

Winter Colors

Winter is here!!!!! So I thought I'd try a winter color scheme. I also thought some people might find this easier to read. Let me know what you think.