Free Write Musings

Last Thursday evening, I attended a free write at the Rehoboth Art League co-sponsored with the Rehoboth Writers Guild.  In this particular free write, visual artists display their work while writers respond to the images with the first words that pop into their heads.  Below are some of my musings.  I only included the ones I think can stand alone since I do not have the images to post alongside them.

No. 1

The rock on the sill.  Undisturbed.  He sees it and knows she hasn't opened the window, that the shutters haven't been pushed opened to the send the carefully placed fragment straight to the ground.  But, what does it mean?  Did she go to another window to look out?  But, where would she get such a view of the garden or see the sun so wondrously hanging in the sky?

The closed window, the unmoved rock whisper questions in his ear, buzzing like flies in his brain.  He wants to swat them away but is also afraid to brush up against them too closely for fear he could answer a few.

No. 2

The image at the edge

Peaking out at a world

Upside down

A reflection encroached and broken 

     by harsh gravel

A blade of color

     Transferring a calm blue white

Into a world too right side up

     to see it.

No. 3

A missing piece.

A wound.

A tear.

It's there but almost unnoticeable

Amidst the design of color,

Brilliantly diverting the eye

An uneven, yet undiminished beauty

The Gift of Anticipation: Maintaining Sanity and Creating Levity In My Classroom

One of the essential qualities of good teaching is the gift of anticipation.  After working with a group of students for a period of time, a good teacher should be reasonably able to anticipate a student's educational needs, behavior choices, and their endless supply of off-topic inane questions.  This ability not only helps us create more effective lesson plans but also allows us to keep some semblance of sanity while maybe having a little fun in the process.

When I returned to my classroom from winter break, I quickly made a list of questions I figured the students would have and posted them along with my answers on the SmartBoard as part of the warm-up.  The idea occurred to me when, during homeroom, many students questioned me about the missing poster on the wall behind my desk.  It had fallen down over the break, and I hadn't gotten around to putting it back up.  The barrage of questions inspired me to create the following list as a way to humorously circumvent any questions.  My responses are in red:

1. What happened to your big poster, Mr. Givens? I'm worried about it because I like to focus on things that are of no concern to me.

For the last time, the poster fell down over winter break, and I haven't had a chance to put it back up yet. Geez!

2. Did you have a nice break, Mr. Givens?

Yes.

3. Do you want to know how my break went, Mr. Givens?

Not particularly.

4. Why is it so cold in here?

It's January. You do the math.

5. But, Mr. Givens, I thought we were going to be working on our Hero Definition essays this week! What's going on? I am so scared and confused!

You will be working on your Hero essays this week. Patience. All will be explained shortly. Well...maybe. There are no guarantees in life.

By now, of course, my students are completely used to my sense of humor.  Or, perhaps, desensitized is the more accurate description.  Some laughed, but most shook their heads as though they were witnessing just another wacky moment in the sitcom that is my classroom.  

However, the questions did stop.  And some wondered aloud how I knew they were going to ask them in the first place.  It's a gift, children.  A gift.

Here's What I Know or My Top Five Dream Roles

This isn't the blog I intended to post.

For the last few days, I've been writing on a topic related to some of my experiences in the local theater community, but I remained ambiguous about what I had to say and how I was saying it.  My tone didn't feel right.  I would get done jotting down what I felt was honest, passable writing, only to look back at it a while later and wonder what in the hell I was thinking.  On top of that, I wasn't getting the sense of satisfaction I usually get when I work on a piece - the satisfaction that motivates me to keep writing and get it finished.

Then the other night, it finally dawned on me what the problem was.  Yes, I was being honest in what I had to say.  Yes, the quality of the writing was about the same as it always is.  But, the difference this time was that it was all coming from a very negative place inside me.  My tone was spiteful and defensive and, at times, extremely critical of things of which I have no business being critical in the first place.  And, worst of all, I was allowing myself to get hung up on things that I have no control over and, therefore, shouldn't have been bothering me anyway.

In the past, I've been good about keeping myself in proper check when it comes to my life in the local theater.  I set my boundaries to keep what amounts to a hobby from infringing on my professional and personal lives.  I tried not to engage in petty gossip while also trying to be a friendly, positive presence in whatever production I was in.  And, most importantly, I stayed in my own lane regarding my responsibilities for a show and made sure I was holding up my end regardless of what others were doing or not doing.

Of course, none of this was executed with anything remotely resembling perfection, but I was doing a good job with it, by and large, particularly with the last one as it helped me maintain my sanity through some tumultuous theater experiences.  But then the woman I loved ended our relationship, and part of my coping with that was to immerse myself in my creative side.  I started this blog.  I started reading and writing more in general.  And, I participated in one theatrical production after another.

I went from The Sound of Music to Les Miserables to Witness For the Prosecution to South Pacific to Sweeney Todd (a span of over a year) without taking a breath.  And, I did all that while working part-time at the hotel, advising Possum Juniors, the youth theater group at Possum Point Players, and sponsoring the National Junior Honor Society at my school on top of seeing to my regular duties as an English teacher.  It is no wonder then that the boundaries I had so carefully maintained began to fall away, and the conduct with which I comported myself slowly devolved to the point that even the first draft of this blog was downright venomous.

The funny part is that it took my getting tagged in a meaningless Facebook poll in which theater people are being asked to list their top five dream roles to fully realize the change in my attitude and to become motivated to do something about it.

Oh, I don't mean to be so melodramatic as to suggest a single Facebook tag suddenly galvanized my thinking.  On the contrary, I've been in the process of self reflection since some very negative experiences on the production of Sweeney Todd this past Fall.  I can say with a clear conscience that nothing I said or did brought on the negativity, but I have been concerned with how much I allowed it to bother me and affect my actions.  More accurately, this poll has provided me with a way to address these issues through my writing, specifically in a "Here's What I Know" exercise common in many recovery and therapeutic programs as well as in many writing workshops.

So, without further ado, Here's What I Know...

I know that I've been fortunate enough to perform two of the roles on my Dream List: Inspector Javert from Les Miserables and Sweeney Todd from Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.  I also know that I worked my butt off both preparing for the auditions for each role and then in the subsequent rehearsals to prepare for the shows.  And, despite any whisperings of pre-casting, I know I am proud of the work I did on those productions.

I know the only things I have control over in the audition and production processes are how well I prepare myself for the audition and how much work I put into fulfilling my responsibilities to the production, like learning my lines and music.  I know I have no control over the director's vision, or lack thereof.  I know I have no control over who gets cast in what roles, and, perhaps more to the point, I know I don't want that control.

I know one of the greatest satisfactions I received in the years I've been doing community theater was when I helped and hopefully encouraged three friends in preparing their auditions for a production I had no intention of being involved in.

I know that I have been blessed to be part of some truly wonderful theatrical productions and have gotten to play some very cool parts.  Therefore, I know I have no reason to be upset when I don't get cast in a particular part.  I lost out on the chance to play one of my dream roles, Orin Scrivello (the Dentist) in Little Shop of Horrors when I first auditioned for Clear Space.  The gentleman they cast was great in the role, and I could see why they cast him.  I know I've had my fair share of great opportunities, and I have no right to begrudge anyone having theirs.

Another thing I know is that it being a dream role doesn't mean I am at all suited to play the part.  I admire the character of Sister Aloycious from Doubt very much, and I feel as though I have a very deep understanding of who she is and why she does what she does.  Everything about her makes sense to me from an educator's perspective.  In almost every way imaginable, I feel like I'm a perfect fit for the role with the obvious exception being that the part has to be played by a woman.  And, it isn't just because the character is female.  The tone and major themes of the play rely on sexual politics as much as on religious and moral issues to really resonate with an audience.  That in itself is the biggest reason Sister Aloycious needs to be played by a woman.

Almost by default, Father Flynn has become a bucket list role for me because I love the play itself so much.  So, if I can't play Sister Aloycious, I'll settle for playing her nemesis: a creepy priest accused of being a pedophile.  Ha!

Finally, I know that I love words, and I love language.  I know a real love of language means appreciating even the parts of it I don't like, particularly words that might make me cringe a little.  Every word, every phrase has its purpose and its strange and sometimes unsettling beauty.  And, words without context become unfair boosters for some people to get up on their soap boxes of assumed victimhood, particularly those looking for the next "cause" to blather on about, in an attempt to feel superior or to have a moment of bigness in their diminished lives.

This brings to mind Ricky Roma from Glengarry Glen Ross, my final dream role.  I know I may not be suited for this role either because Roma is supposed to be slick and charismatic and is often cast with a handsome actor.  I don't readily fit any of those descriptions.  But, I know that Ricky wields words like a surgeon and can lacerate a person with that level of precision.  I get that.  I can understand that probably better than most people realize.  The sheer pleasure of being able to say exactly what you mean at the moment you mean to say it.  I know firsthand that that's as addicting as any narcotic and can carry with it the same shame and regret, the type of shame and regret that Roma seems impervious to.

I know playing him would be as dangerous for what it could inspire in me as it would be freeing to the inner demons of my soul.  It might be cathartic in some ways, providing an acceptable outlet for my tendency to think and say brutally honest things.  But, I also know the likelihood of a community theater in this area doing it is minuscule namely because of the pervasive language in the play.  It goes to show that the power of a play's language can work both to its benefit and its detriment.

And now I know that I have said all I need to say in this particular blog.  I have that familiar feeling of completion that I get whenever I have communicated what is inside me.  And, I've done so without being venomous (or at least not overly so).  My inner Ricky Roma is stifled...for now.

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Odd Thomas (2013)

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Odd Thomas (2013)

I don't normally pay much attention to the suggestions Netflix forces on my feed whenever I sign in to watch something.  More often than not, I know exactly what I am looking for.  And, very seldom do I just scroll through random titles unless I am interested in watching some stand-up.  But, Odd Thomas caught my eye again and again whenever I signed on,  And, my interest was piqued when I learned it was based on a series of books by Dean Koontz.

So, one Sunday afternoon a couple weeks ago, I decided to watch it.  The first thing I noticed was the assured performance Anton Yelchin delivers.  At twenty-five, he is a highly engaging actor and exudes a confidence that many actors in his age-range do not.  This is probably due to his having been a child actor (he's been working for more than half his life), but he is also just a fine screen actor with a likability akin to a young Tom Hanks.

Yelchin's ability to connect with an audience is what grounds this film in reality enough for us to care about his character and be invested enough to see how the story unfolds.  He plays Odd Thomas, a twenty year old short order cook who has the ability to see and communicate with the dead.  Odd is a quirky, quick-witted young man with no big aspirations in life other than to be a great short order cook and hang out with his girlfriend, Stormy.  But, he also possesses a strong moral center that pushes him to do everything he can to help the wandering souls who cross his path.

The casting of Yelchin in the title role is the best part of the film and elevates it at moments to something beyond a low-grade B-movie.  In every other aspect, the film feels more like a really good pilot to an ongoing cable series than a polished motion picture.  That isn't a criticism so much as it is advice on what kind of expectations to set when watching this movie.  I wonder if the anticipation of adapting the other books in the series fueled this TV-pilot tone.  If so, it was a risky move that almost doesn't pay off and probably only worked for me because I watched it on Netflix, not on a big screen.

Regardless, Odd Thomas is a decent entertainment made better by a strong lead performance.  If it were a TV series, I would definitely be watching it.

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Room 237 (2012)

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Room 237 (2012)

I missed making a recommendation last Wednesday due to a particularly difficult first-week back for teachers.  It felt as though we had far less time to prepare our classrooms than in previous years, and a batch of redundant meetings sapped the energy completely out of me.  All this coupled with Sweeney Todd rehearsals brought me extreme exhaustion and less spare time.

So last week's difficulties aside, I am back at it with another movie recommendation.  This time the selection is the documentary film Room 237, which offers an in-depth look at a variety of interpretations of Stanley Kubrick's The Shining.  True, a decided change of pace from the narrative films I've been touting so far, but Room 237 does fit right in with the others as a film that ignites my love for cinematic art.

It also came back into my thoughts recently due to a conversation I had with a friend about The Shining and the pros and cons of adapting a literary text for the big screen.

Anyway, here's the deal: do not watch Room 237 unless the following things are true for you:

1.  You have watched Kubrick's version of The Shining and have a passable command of the events and major details of the movie.  You will be lost within five minutes of watching this documentary otherwise.

2.  You have a borderline neurotic need to listen to a close literary analysis of a classic film.

3.  You are able to follow the explanation of not only one such literary analysis as mentioned in #2 but several analyses being explained in bits and pieces all at the same time.  In a voice over.  While related clips from various Kubrick films and other films are shown at a sometimes frenetic pace.

4.  You know the difference between authentic literary interpretation, which is drawn from sound conclusions and supported by textual evidence, and outlandish conspiracy theories, which are made by connecting the dots one wishes to connect despite the lack of real support to do so.

And, finally...

5.  Despite the enjoyment you get at hearing deep, close-readings of the film, you are also willing to look at The Shining as simply being one of the most effectively well-crafted  horror films ever made.  No more, no less.

If these five criteria fit you, please, feel free to watch this film and then find me to discuss your thoughts.  If these five criteria don't fit, watch the film anyway.  Just know I won't be very willing to discuss it with you in any great detail.  And, if you give the moon landing interpretation any credence, please, feel free to dig a hole and crawl in it, all without contacting me.  As I have said before, I don't do psycho-management in social media.

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Nine Lives (2005)

What-to-Watch Wednesday: Nine Lives (2005)

A long time ago, I created a list of my top ten personal favorite movies.  Nine Lives had not yet been released.  Should I ever compile a new top ten list, Nine Lives will be a top contender and possibly displace one the films for which my affection has waned over the years.

Yes, it is that good of a movie (assuming the fact that I would potentially put it in my top ten means anything).

The film, written and directed by Rodrigo Garcia, tells the stories of nine different women in short, uninterrupted vignettes.  Garcia is the son of famous author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and he has his father's gift for creating rich, fascinating characters.  The fact that these characters are some of the most real, sharply-defined female characters I've ever seen on film only serves to point out the laziness that normally goes into writing women.  With careful ease, Garcia creates nine female characters that could readily support a full-length film.

Not that a full-length film is needed here.  Each vignette is nothing short of a showcase for one gifted actress after another.  In a span of about ten minutes, the audience learns everything we need to know about each woman, her situation, and why she makes certain choices.  Then once the major points have been made, the film wisely switches to the next segment so the audience doesn't have to be inundated with unnecessary details and complication.  It seems Rodrigo and the actresses are trusting the intelligence of the audience to read between the lines and make the connections a lesser film would hammer in with the subtlety of a train wreck.

All nine vignettes are wonderful.  But, if you are like me, there will be certain ones you respond to more than others, depending on your own personal history and experience.  And, each one, just like all the best stories, will leave you wanting to know more about the women featured.

A (Not So) Simple Song

Last Sunday, I sang once again at a church service.  The piece I performed was "A Simple Song" by Leonard Bernstein, and I was accompanied by the wonderful Melanie Bradley on piano and long-time friend Stacey Hartman on flute.  We did the 11:00 service at Melanie's church, Lewes Presbyterian, an old, beautiful church in downtown Lewes.  It went well, I think, and the congregation seemed to genuinely appreciate what we offered.  Afterwards, when I was home relaxing before Sweeney Todd rehearsal, I reflected on what has long been my approach to singing in church as opposed to singing anywhere else.

I always did feel differently about church singing than I did about singing on stage or in any other public venue.  Somehow, getting applause in church after performing always feels wrong to me even though I hunger for it at any other time.  And, while other performances are usually dictated by a script or what will best please an audience, I typically take great pains when selecting a piece to perform at a church.  You see, although I don't consider myself a devout Christian, I am spiritual enough to believe that whatever middling musical talent I have is a gift I should put to service.  And, in the case of the church, that means doing what I can to enhance the message being conveyed that day.

This practice I adopted from a woman named Florence Ruley who was the music director of St. John's United Methodist, the church I attended as a teenager.  She would carefully select hymns (if not given suggestions from the pastor) that correlated with either the scripture being read at that service or the content of the sermon, a copy of which she would often be given as a guide.  Many times, she and I looked over different song choices for me to perform, trying to find something that would contribute in some way to the overall theme of the service.

Although I didn't recognize it at the time, I now see that Mrs. Ruley was showing me how to leave ego at the door and bring my skills and talents to bear on a cooperative task in which others were supplying their own skills and talents.  My singing a song wasn't a pause in the service for a moment of spotlight or an extra treat for the bored congregation.  Rather it was a continuation of the message, a way to shed light on some aspect of the sermon's lesson.  While I don't kid myself into believing that I always accomplish this, it is an idea I've carried with me into adulthood and one that provides me a sense of fulfillment that regular stage performing does not.

My choosing "A Simple Song" brought all of this back to me as I began the mental struggle I've had with this song for over twenty years, dating back to when I first heard it sung while I was in high school to a failed attempt to perform it myself when I was in college to the present day in which I have now sung it twice as part of two different church services.  This struggle really amounted to a fear of singing this song in front of people and not doing it justice or, worse, simply not doing it well at all.  But, the lesson from Mrs. Ruley finally sunk in and got me to face that fear and accomplish one of my long-time, unstated goals.

You see, my fear, just like any other fear, had roots in the egocentric desire that the world around me is significantly preoccupied with my actions.  People often fear how something is going to appear to others because they think others have a vested interest in what they do, and I am no different.  But, the simple truth is that no matter what mishap or flub I make or even how brilliant my actions, the world at large will continue on, completely unaffected by my failures and successes.

On the surface, that appears to be a depressing train of thought: no matter what I do, the world doesn't care and will continue on regardless.  But, the acceptance of this idea frees one from the constraints imposed by fear.  After all, if what I do isn't going to have a far-reaching affect, why not take a chance on something?  Why be afraid of possible ridicule and judgment?

Of course, there are those who are going to offer up ridicule and judgment in abundance all in an effort to feel superior or mask their own fear, but I'm talking about a big picture view here.  In the grand scheme of things, we don't amount to very much, and in that state, we have space to move around in, freedom to discover things about ourselves.  And, yes, do the things we've been afraid to do for so long.

The paradox is that by accepting our insignificance and releasing our fear, we open up an opportunity to touch a wide range of individuals.  Because I finally found the balls to sing "A Simple Song", maybe I was able to reach someone and they were able to receive a message they needed to hear.  Maybe I helped save the service from terminal boredom.  Or, maybe people forgot everything about the service, including me, the moment they walked out to the parking lot to go home.  I don't know for sure, but, more importantly, I don't need to know because what matters as far as I need to be concerned is that I faced my personal fear, set aside my own egotism, and worked with other talented people on something bigger than myself.  I got something very special out of the experience, and I just hope someone else was able to as well.