Five Weeks To Go!

Coffee every morning!

Beautiful Zerin, my room neighbor,
 my coffee buddy, and just lovely lady

It's been five weeks!!! FIVE WEEKS! That means I'm halfway through this program. Which is entirely crazy to me! Time has flown by and I'm pretty sure it's because I have never for a split second been bored this summer. I've been lonely at times, mad at things/myself, scared, unsure, frantic, panicked etc...but NOTHING close to bored; hence time has not stopped or slowed for me. On the contrary, time seems to speed up in this city.

Scarsdale Station!

Grand Central

For those interested, these are some of the activities I have taken part in during classes:

-Hours upon hours of lying on my back "paying attention to my breath" and little else

-Two hours spent behaving like a bird with my fellow classmates as we try to convince the other birds to either leave us alone or mate with us, depending on our objective.

-Talked to a wall for thirty minutes as if it was a boyfriend who had cheated on my with my best friend.

-Spoken Gibberish for an hour.

-Yelled aloud with my class "I PROMISE TO BE TERRIBLE AT THIS EXERCISE!"

Frickin' scene...

These are just some of my favorites. This happens every day. When I'm not stretching myself physically or emotionally, my brain is soaking up and bursting simultaneously with information. I've been learning so much, and I look forward to the next five weeks!

Hanna and Lindsay! Such sweethearts.

Today was me and my shakespeare partner's turn to perform our scene from Twelfth Night. It's been SO lovely working with Margy. She's one of the most fantastic actresses I've ever had the pleasure of working with, and she's a beautiful person besides that! We had a fun time performing our first go-round today, and got very good feedback as well as plenty to go work on for the next four weeks!

Don't worry, we'll be fine.

Tomorrow my contemporary scene partner, Lindsay, and I will perform Ludlow Fair....a chunk of it anyway. Lindsay is also a southerner which makes me feel very at home at her side. She's someone I've gotten to talk to on several occasions during our rehearsal time together, and she's spunky, bright, short, and and all around magnificent person as well.

Olivia's veil? Or Stella's ghost??? You decide.

So that's a brief summary of my first five weeks! 

-Ginn

Two's-Day Findings!

Okay, so here's out it works: I tell a story. You believe it. That is all.

These handy-dandy electronic devices are spread throughout the great underground system to help weary (or is it wary??!!) travelers on their journey to becoming musicians, actors, and fashionistas...

Some call it Time Square. I call it, my first subway stop on the way to class.

Those are my feet. And that is "The Gap". Deal with it.

These are two empty subway seats next to me. An occurrence rare enough to warrant a photo even if it WASN'T Twos-Day.

Those are some stairs. They're probably magical or something.

Let me introduce you to my new best friends Guy and Gal. We'll probably go have drinks later...after they demand to know why I was taking a picture of them.

These elevators most likely lead to Star Land and Narnia. I'm not sure which is which. And I'll never know for sure, because our studio has told us we MUST TAKE THE STAIRS or Stella's Ghost will probably eat us.

This is the second floor, where all the studios are numbered. The first floor studios are lettered. And the lobby has no studios. Only a troll who guards the front door.

When you put letters in these boxes. They will show up days later in other people's homes!!! I've tried it, it works.

I've never used these. 

TWO WAYS to choose from! Isn't New York City great???

Those are flags. Word.

Two-Tattoos. Or as Much from Robin Hood would say "Two Ta'oos" (See Netflix for further explanation)

Two Cop Cars.

Two tracks. One is empty. One is full. YOU solve the riddle. (disclaimer: not a real riddle at ALL)

I chose track 28. It was a wise choice. I don't know where I would have gone had I chosen track 27. 

And those are my Twos-Day findings! Hope you enjoyed this perspective of the city!

-Gin

Twos-Day!

Just a quick thought this morning:

because it's Tuesday...and most of the time tuesday's just aren't special in any way! Well last summer they were my favorite day of the week. My now-roommate and I would meet every tuesday for frozen yogurt (two-punches in our cards on tuesdays!), then hunker down for lots of tv episodes.

This summer I haven't given Tuesday any special thought! So I've decided to declare today Twos-Day. In honor of my favorite number, and the fact that there are some truly wonderful things out there that come in twos! So I'll be keeping track of them throughout the day, and posting pictures later tonight!

Happy Twos-Day!
love,
Ginny

Strongly

I dread the last few hours of Sunday night. It means I can start thinking about tomorrow. It means the end of two completely stress-free days; and the beginning of five days defined by stress.

I'm not talking about simple stress. I'm not talking about getting out of bed in the morning. Going to class. Walking and walking and walking. That's not what I'm talking about, so let me explain.

I'm being melodramatic, but that's just who I am and how I figure things out. I hate Sunday nights. I go to bed thinking about every way I can possibly mess up this week. It takes an hour longer than usual to fall asleep, while I try to shame my mind into taking a rest from worrying and hating. I don't hate people. I suppose I'm not supposed to use the word "hate".

So, I strongly dislike; specifically, places and myself IN those places. Never the people. I only strongly dislike people I know very well...and that's always on the flip side of loving them unconditionally.

But the problem remains: I strongly dislike places and myself in those places. I can track it back in my life to the first time I moved. When I was eleven. I strongly disliked the place to which we moved. I got over it eventually, and that place became something else...and by the time we moved again, I yearned for the place I had so strongly disliked....and then it happened again. And through it all I recognized that I was the problem. I was the one deciding how I felt about those places.

So how do I solve this problem? Because here I am! In another place. A place that scares me. That tests me and fails me. A place that with-holds answers and places fake hints in my way.

I know it's not the people...because I really love the people here. I've met generous and giving people. Men and women who accept me. Men and women who ask questions and wait for the answers and then share their own stories. I love people.

But the places are different. They belong to the people. Like a pet that growls at a stranger who means no harm. You wish you could explain to that pet that they have no reason to growl, but they love their owners; act first then think. And I know I shouldn't feel this way. But it's part of me these days.

So I dread Sunday nights. Because I've finally found a small place within the bigger place to feel at ease. This house, tucked away from the city. With two wonderful women looking out for me. This is a safe place for me now. But it's only for the night-time, the early morning, and the weekend. These two glorious days of freedom and air.

And tomorrow I go back to that bigger place that scares me and challenges me and makes me feel inadequate. And just when I find myself thinking "I can do this. I like this place." that's when something hits. A mistake. An accident. An unfortunate occurrence. And then...inexplicably, my mind takes me to all the other places I've lived, where I wouldn't have made that mistake. All the other places that have learned not to bite me, because I mean no harm.

Those places are no longer "places" but my homes. All of them. And I carry them with me into the new and the terrifying.

I know this won't make sense to some people. People who live for adventure and challenges. And I'm not trying to make a point really. I just thought I'd let you know how much I dislike Sunday nights.

...telling.

I just finished reading a book. Not the book I began in Jackson, about art and beauty and aesthetics...this book is a story. It's fiction. It came from a woman's imagination, rooted in the truths she was aware of, and accepted by people like me who find the same truths settled in our hearts and souls.

It's not a grand work. It's unique in and of itself, but not at all unimaginable. That's not the point of telling a story though. It's not about coming up with an idea that no one has thought of before....no one would read that book...or rather, we would read it, but we wouldn't be moved by it.

Even the great writers who changed history with their shocking ideas and/or hypothesis, were only able to change history by connecting their new thoughts to the present ones.

Let me put it this way: I could create my own language...right now...and it could be brilliant, and maybe even beautiful...but no one would understand it, until I could translate it for them, or give them the key to understand it.

That's why I absolutely LIVE for story-telling. I made that realization today. Go figure! On a normal Saturday morning, much like any other, alone in the kitchen, finishing a story. I realized I loved this story. I was MOVED by it.

It spoke to me; and it wasn't the innovative part of my brain that it spoke to. It was speaking to that part of my brain that is comfortable, settled, safe, and happy. It's a part of my brain that doesn't get a lot of attention these days, and when it does, I am usually creep there...guilty and unsure. 

But reading this story reached right into that comfy part of my brain and sent warm waves of life through it. I think that's my imagination at work! THAT is how my imagination is fueled! What a wonderful discovery to make on this lovely, ordinary Saturday!

Of course, it was the finishing of the story that really sealed the deal. I closed the book and literally GRINNED. Because that's my favorite part of a story. The ending. Not because it's over, but because it signifies that there was a reason for the story, and a conclusion that would resolve all the conflict within; and THAT gives me hope. I connect with stories. All sorts of stories, because I want my life to be a story. I want all the conflict and the hurt and mistakes I've made, to come to a conclusion. Not death necessarily...but meaning. Ultimate meaning.

Within a single life, one can live out hundreds if not thousands of stories. If I look back carefully I can probably already start counting them...but it's not completely done yet is it? I'm not quite satisfied yet. There are SO many questions that haven't been answered. So many conflicts that haven't been resolved...in fact at this particular moment of my life I feel more conflict than resolution; I guess I'm hoping that means I'm in for a big realization soon :) Something that will bring sense and peace to my heart and my brain.

So that's what I've learned today. Stories give me hope. Doesn't matter if they're "well-written" or not if the story comes through.
If you're curious as to what book I finished reading, ask me and I'll tell you...just not on here :P My "story" I've just written would be instantly discredited by several at the mention of the title :D


-Ginny

Disappointment: Pushing Past

Yesterday in Adler Technique class, eight of us got up and performed "The Gift" exercise. We were each given another being (for most of us a person, and for one girl a pet!) and we had to come up with a gift to give to that person. It could be anything. But we had to be prepared to paint a picture of it using only words.

Now, some of my classmates were given some hefty material. One guy had to give a gift to a best who wasn't waking up from a coma. Another gal was giving a gift to her father who had sexually abused her as a child. Someone had a pet, another had a wife of several years etc....

I was to give a gift to the love of my life/boyfriend who had cheated on me with my best friend.

Now, as I hope you've guessed, these are all fictional subjects...but with the work we've done in class, all of us understood that we would only move our audience if our work was grounded in truth. This doesn't mean I had to go immerse myself in an unfaithful relationship....instead I drew on any experiences I had. People I HAVE loved. My best friends. Being hurt. Being lifted up.

I AM every bit as narcissistic as this picture would suggest
...but let's just call this a moment of healthy self-reflection :o 

I loved that we were "painting" as our teacher put it. It was an excellent way for my brain to connect with the action. My prep work was much like any artist's preparation. I searched the "drawers" of my past and came up with any materials that may be useful.

Now, the Adler Technique tells us to use our Past, but more-so our Imagination. This "Gift" exercise was primarily to delve into our imaginations.

So I stood there; with seven other people who I've grown very fond of over the last month. We stood up straight, stared at the back wall, and performed one by one, and sometimes altogether in a confused clamor of voices.

It was hard for me. Hard to concentrate on my imaginary boyfriend while my real life friend to the right of me wept and wept over his best friend's demise.

It was hard to paint a vivid picture of the candle-house I was trying so hard to describe. Harder still to explain to "the love of my life" that I was giving it to him because I had given up.

By the end of the exercise, there were not many dried eyes in that room. I was perfectly collected. Outwardly. On the inside, I was upset with my performance. I was confused. Had I done it right? Wasn't I meant to feel better about it? Did I move anyone with my performance? How could I have done well, when my brain was flitting about from the back wall to the person in front of me, to the teacher, then back to the gift I was describing?

I left classes yesterday terribly disgruntled.

I sketched the images that today's group described for us
....these were the eight gifts given today.

Today, after watching the remaining eight share their gifts, (this time two girls had to give gifts to still-born children), I finally realized I had to make peace with my performance. Address it, certainly, but not become stuck in this state of anger and disappointment.

I told my teacher how very unhappy I had been with my performance and he looked confused, "You did very good work, I don't know what you're talking about"

There aren't many people as brutally honest as that man, so I accepted that gratefully. It doesn't change how I felt immediately after my work...but it certainly gave me a healthier perspective as I look deeper into my creative process.

Lovely...

Studying lines as I wait for the train in Scarsdale!

View in Bryant Park

Just outside Grand Central

I'm learning to cross the street like a real New Yorker: without waiting for the 'walk' sign

The birds.

Present Emotions

First off, STOP listen to this song as you read my post:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuvWc3ToDHg

Okay, now that it's playing, you may continue reading. I just like that song. Just discovered it today.

Here I am, sitting at Starbucks, Sunday afternoon, catching up on silly things that I love like blogs and pinterest and messages and phone calls and writing plays!

Seriously, this is my favorite thing to do...find a spot to haunt all day (in this case Starbucks in Yonkers) and set up camp. My tool bag (aka purse) includes my laptop Eddie, a couple of notebooks, a couple of plays, camera, and journal.

It's sunny and lovely outside, but I'll be walking around in the sun all week so I'm happy to see it through the window today :)

Music plays over the speakers...most of it unfamiliar to my ears and ALL of it pleasing!

I find myself happy...but also with a slight, tiny wish...a wish that someone would show up...someone who wants to talk. Someone I know and love. Anyone. Someone who wants to go see Prometheus as badly as me and then offer to pay! :P

But I'm content, and that's what's important today. Tomorrow? Who knows!

My Adler Technique teacher tells us to keep our emotions in the present. I think that's brilliant advice...especially for an emotionally-leaky-faucet like myself! So far it's improved my view dramatically.

love,
Ginny



PS- how'd you like the song??

Pictures, pictures, pictures!

OKAY! Photographs are a GO.

It only took me three weeks to get all the right tools and equipment but I can FINALLY upload photos from the past three weeks. Just the hi-lights of course :)

My lovely little room! Way up on the third floor.

The beautiful house I'm in for the summer.

I asked my hostess what kind of trees were in her yard...one of them she called a Tulip tree...it's huge and it dropped these blossoms!

My first excursion into the city by train!

Night before first day of classes! Note the mixture of excitement and pure terror!

My first city-observation...a photo-op with the business men who populate midtown.

SO incredibly blessed to have Annie in the city too!! We were checking out these strange sculptures in Madison Square Park: turns out they emit sounds!!!

One of my first lone adventures was checking out the Public Library :)

This one's for Jacob, whose camera makes this pictures possible!

Some beautiful etchings in one wing of the Libarary.

Just loved these!

Sooo lovely.

This picture reminded me of a certain tree that Emma told me about the night before I left jackson :)

Hmmmm

John, you're in my thoughts!!

And Sarah is always with me of course :)

Ahhh Jane Eyre.

Alice!!

In seventh grade I read these words for the first time in my first ever play. Eight years later here I am reading them inscribed at Central Park, while I pursue acting full-time!

My first theatre role!

Meow.

Hi there Alice.

I am happy today!

Barista got it wrong, but made my day anyway!

Having lunch at Grand Central.

Waiting for the subway...a daily routine.

Subway below Grand Central. 42nd Street.

One rainy evening I walked fourteen blocks...but it was worth it when I snapped this picture!

In the future, the ration of pictures to words will be more balanced, but I really wanted to put these pictures up as soon as possible!

my love to all,

-Gin