Storms, Ghost Stories, and Tractors

I woke up two nights ago to a house-rattling crack of thunder. Then there was the lightning, and my lamp was flickering on its own (it was off). There wasn't that much rain, but I forgot how big and loud storms are here.

Yesterday I woke up and the same storm was going on. My original plan for the day was to go to Burlington with a bunch of friends, and with the weather we debated it, but decided to still go.

The timing worked perfectly - we got to Burlington with very little rain, and then managed to avoid the dark clouds/tornado warnings we were unaware of.

It was great to catch up with some of my friends - hearing college stories, work stories, military stories.

One of my friends is engaged, and although the wedding is still pretty far off, we went with her to look at the dress she is thinking of. It is beautiful, but the whole thing just reminded me that we are adults now, technically. While college is still a protected sphere, to the world, we are grown-ups.

Then we got one of my other friends from work, went to Panera, and wandered the Church Street mall.

On the way home, they decided it would be a great idea to tell ghost stories/myths. It is 10PM and dark by this point. Not the best idea.

Today I went to Montpelier to set up my phone (more adult things!), read 7Days in a coffee shop, and just walked around town a bit.

Little reminders I am home:

Tractors driving in the road
Nature
     especially the mix of blue sky and green leaves
Speaking of sky - the size of it. It goes on forever. And the clouds
Talking to cute VPIRG volunteers about clean energy, tattoos, and India

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Memorial Day

I try to keep this blog fairly non-political. But be forewarned, this post veers into the slightly political.

Today is Memorial Day. A day to commemorate those who have served, those who are serving, and those who have lost their lives fighting for our country.

I have the utmost respect and appreciation for those who serve in our Armed Forces, for their sacrifice and dedication.

I have so many friends in the service and every time I see them I can see how much stronger and confident they have become. That they are. They are some of the people closest to me, and they are simply amazing. I believe in them.

That said, I wish we lived in a society where war wasn't such a necessity. Where we didn't have to send so many to fight and die for things that seem so trivial when juxtaposed with the lives they cost.

Today, I am saying thank you for your service and sacrifice. To be safe and stay strong.

I am also promising to fight in my own way to try to create a society where all of this violence would not be needed.

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How I've Changed

Some observations from others and myself.

I am more assertive.
Willing to stand up for myself.
I am willing to snark back (this is a Good Thing in context.)
I am more confident. I think it has something to do with the hair.
I am also more laid back about time. I can sit and do nothing, which I had trouble with before.

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Panteria

This weekend was Panteria, a local event that I haven't missed since I started fighting in the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism). It was the most laid back event I have been to. Our camp was small, but very relaxed, which is what I needed.

We got there later than planned, but not by much. Packing for the event included such questions as "Where is my helmet?" "Where is my auth card?" "If I were my fighting tunic, where would I be?"

Once we got to the site, we set up the pavilion uneventfully, and hung out with my household.

(I am aware this next part might get me disowned :) )

I didn't really fight. In all honesty, I debated whether or not to bring my armour. So on Saturday I walked around, and sat in camp, looking at the sky and the trees. I did manage to do a round of thrown weapons, but it was nice to do nothing and know that I didn't have anything else I should be doing. I needed the calm and the nature and the sun.

Sunday I geared up for the woods battle, in my gear for the first time since last Pennsic. Things set weird, though I figured out that I didn't gain the freshman 15, because my armour still fit. I had a different pair of fighting shoes that slid as I walked though, there were a few other pieces that needed adjustment, and really, I wasn't motivated to do anything I didn't need to. So I stayed in for 2 rounds, and then stopped fighting as more people showed up.

What this weekend did do was re-spark my desire to train and fight. I am researching practices that (hopefully) exist in NYC for the summer.

Saturday was also the beginning of the epic squirrel battles. There was a cute little red squirrel who really liked our bread and tents. The little squirrel also worked in conjunction with a brave chipmunk. I think they won, because we left out bread for them.

Something I really like about SCA events are the conversations. The stories. I haven't seen many of these people since I went to school in the Middle East. The most common question I get is 'What is my favorite part about being there/going to school there'. My first answer is always the people I meet - my classmates, who all are such extraordinary people, and then the random connections - a woman in a painting class who can read the tattoo I have in Tamil, who is from Kerala and knows who Gurukkal is. My second answer is the travel opportunities. Though I am always brought back to why I travel, and what I want to do with travel as I talk to an SCA member who was a PeaceCorps volunteer in Africa.

Stories also remind me of chivalry, and the seven knightly virtues. These are the stories we forget, but that we shouldn't. They are important.

I managed to not get injured fighting, but instead hurt my thumb playing volleyball at a potluck.

Sadly, this is my only event this summer due to scheduling and commitments. Which makes me sad, because my household and friends in the SCA are another family to me.

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Travel Adventures

And now for some of the inevitable adventures that come with traveling.

First, my name is mis-translated on my UAE visa - it isn't written as pronounced in English, which led to the border guys questioning if it was me/my passport.

That was not helped by the fact that my hair is short now, and therefore radically different looking than all of my passport pictures where it is long and in a ponytail.

I am also not sure how to explain to a US airport guy why I am studying theater in the Middle East after a 14-hour flight. I am not at my most articulate. My answer ended up being something along the lines of "because the people are awesome?"

Also general travel/airplane tips:

The JetBlue terminal at JFK is awesome. Food is good. Reading is good. Naps are good. Also, emergency exit rows are pretty awesome - there is so much more legroom. And yes, if something horrible happens you might have to open a door. Worth it.

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7,000 Miles Later

I am back in the US for the summer. Have been for about a week at this point, and so thought it would be time to recap the end of the semester/beginning of summer.

Due to schedule conflicts, I am still not done all of my courses - I am completing one by writing a 25-30 page paper that is due over the summer. However, I can be very stubborn, and I had finished all of my other papers four days before my flight out of Abu Dhabi. Because of that, I wrote a draft of the paper before coming home for the summer, so I just have edits to do on that.

I also managed to pack my life into 2 boxes, 2 suitcases, and a backpack. Books are going to be a problem in the future.

Said the 'see you later's inherent to a school of nomads, and hung out in the evenings when I couldn't bear to write anything more on the Establishment and Free Exercise Clauses. In that time, I played board games, which got fairly competitive. Important to note: I won one of the games of Settlers of Catan. This is so important because it was the first time that someone other than Jordan won.

Fourteen hour flight home, uneventful. I watched movies, and napped. Had a six-hour layover at JFK, but since I was flying JetBlue, they had a nice waiting area. My connecting flight got delayed a bit, but I made it home. The connection won't be as bad in the future because they are re-routing Sachi and I through Chicago instead of JFK from now on.

Then, home.

Stars, darkness, silence, trees, grass, dogs, a new donkey, my own bed, hugs from family, relaxing on porches, waking up without an alarm, do-nothing days, driving with music blaring, wind, stormclouds.

I went to see the spring production, and worked at the Ultimate Frisbee tournament, taking photos of the games. I miss playing. I hope I can find/make some pick-up games over the summer.

I also visited my high school and caught up with my old teachers...

"You survived!"

"I thought you would be more tan."

"You loved it right? I told you you would love the Middle East!"

(I'm studying theater) "Are you ready to be a waitress?" (Not as an actor) "Oh, then you'll be fine!"

(I'm studying theater) "I wondered about that. You were always more creative - it makes sense" (As compared to political science)

"Welcome home."

...As well as hanging out with some of my friends during their free block. I even went about this the legitimate way, by getting a visitors pass. Helped the GSU plan this year's Day of Silence (I know, it wasn't on the actual day. But it is a miracle that it happens at all, even with the compromises we've had to make).

Caught up with one of my best friends, Beth, which was awesome and crazy, as always. Today she and Kendall came and we talked for a while.

It is good to be home for a while. Good to be in the US, where things feel a bit more stable/make more sense. Good to slow down and reboot after a hectic year.

It was weird - when I was packing and even at the airport in VT, it felt like Christmas. The weather in Abu Dhabi was the same just hotter, and it felt like I was only going home for a breath before it was back into the chaotic busy-ness that is NYUAD. Then, I registered the spring/summer colors and feel to the air, and it felt like summer break, that I wasn't here for a breath, but will have time to catch my breath.

NYC in 1 week, 3 days!

<3

P.S. I can now add lawnmowers to the list of things it would seem as though I have broken, a list which mainly consisted of microwaves before this point. Still, aside from the one in Abu Dhabi, I hold that the rest were coincidences. 

Anchor

I was thinking about this the other night as I was trying to fall asleep, and the next day my friend brought up the same thing.

This school creates nomads. Travelers. We pack our lives every 4 months.

And there is a part of all of us that wants that. The wandering bits of our souls.

But there is a contrary pull - the desire to create roots.

To make a place, a home, somewhere to snap back to after globe-hopping.

It is impossible to create that now, in college, but with all the moving we do, it would be nice to be able to stay put.

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Theater v. Performance Art

This post is written as a direct extension of a discussion my Intro to Visual Culture class had a few weeks ago - thoughts/reactions to the ideas and distinctions between theater and performance art.

I don't think a distinction can be drawn between the two. They are both mutually inclusive and mutually exclusive.

Theater can fall under the umbrella of performance art, performance art can be viewed as theater.

Both fall under the category of performance.

Theater is also not just a proscenium stage, with an audience, a fourth wall.

It can be many things, some that could be considered performative, some experimental, some classical, some mundane.

In my class, a plurality of people only saw theater as traditional theater, classical theater. Which it isn't.

Classical theater is the common perception of theater, but it isn't all theater can be.

Theater and performance art are the same in that they are performative and can shock and provoke and heal. I want to learn more about Romeo Castellucci and his 'theater of the image'.

Performance and theater are different in ways that can only be determined on a case by case basis.

One idea that I like but am not sure if I agree with is Marina Abramovic's differentiation - in theater the knife is fake. In performance art the knife is real.

These lines really can't be drawn. But I also know that people do draw those lines, and it is important to break them in order to move art and provoke thought.

In my own work, I don't want a clear line to be able to be drawn between theater and performance art. The notions of breaking and healing and catharsis intrigue me, as do sounds and light and video juxtaposed with text and acting.

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Cubicles

There are some administrative floors in Sama that are all cubicle offices.

It always freaks me out when I have to go to them.

Cubicles scare me. I never want to end up in a job requiring me to work in one.

There is just something about them that is so against my soul. I can't stand them.

Then there is the fact that I get easily lost in those floors, lost in a sea of cubicles.

Thoughts only enforced by the snippets of Office Space that I have seen.

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(Also, as I am writing this, the episode of "Bob's Burgers" that is playing in the background is discussing a similar fear. In that case, the fear of having to sign office birthday cards)

It's Official

From Albert (our course registration/administration page)

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Things That Might Make Responsible People Cringe Vol. 4

I decided to walk to DTC today.

At 10:30AM.

In a black t-shirt.

In 102 degree weather (38.9 C) with 21% humidity.

Without much shade because of the time of day.

At least I had water!

Summer is back.

<3

Our Town

Yes, I know, this is a very debated love-it-or-hate-it kind of play.

I read it for the first time today.

And I have to admit, I love it. Reading it after being in Abu Dhabi since January, it awakens a sense of nostalgia.

I recognize the small-town atmosphere, I can see the hills of New Hampshire, hear the voices, walk the paths, feel the breeze and the atmosphere.

They mention Lake Winnipesaukee, which is where I lived in my early childhood.

I also appreciate what it is saying. I could analyze it, but I don't want to.

Life, love, death, remembering.

The simplicity, the values, bring me back to my roots.

I would love to attempt to stage this in a non-traditional way, while still maintaing the emotional tone.

Say what you will about the play, but, as a homesick wanderer, it is beautiful.

"EMILY: Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? - every, every minute?

STAGE MANAGER: No. Pause. The saints and poets maybe - they do some." (Act III)

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25 Beautiful Things

One of our creative assignments for Making Theater was to list 25 things we find beautiful, in an action. While I didn't quite stick to the idea of an action or impulse, here is my list. I think it says something about me, but I am not sure what. 

1. Drums so loud they hit your entire being

2. My mom, waking up early to take care of her horse, even in below-zero weather

3. Trusting friends enough to break down in front of them

4. A forest trail, overarched by a canopy of fire-colored leaves

5. Emails that read “I’ll tell you when you get home” instead of the story

6. Power outages, oil lamps, and candles

7. Drawings made with permanent markers

8. Solitary shoes and puzzle pieces on sidewalks

9. The smell of old books

10. Crop circles made by lawnmowers

11. The sleeves of paint arms take on after letting go on a canvas

12. Ultimate players when their bodies aren’t thinking, just running and catching

13. Being able to speak to someone without speaking

14. Marina Abramovic’s artwork/sacrifice

15. Confident, androgynous dressers

16. Steeping tea at midnight, steam rising

17. Tools and scraps scattered around a workshop

18. The safelights of a darkroom, broken by the exposure of the enlargers

19. Purple stencils of tattoos

20. The story of Kali/Kala

21. The spark right before a match lights

22. Friends’ cars filled with memories and junk

23. When you see someone look in the mirror and they realize who they’ve become

24. Non-traditional colors of duct tape

25. Chemical stains on clothing from processing film all day

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The Desert

A few nights ago was Open Mic, and incredible event at our school that always reinforces the talent and passion of my classmates.

One such person is Yannick, who wrote a slam-style poem about home and leaving. As usual, his writing made many of us tear up because of how true it rings.

He quoted a saying that goes something like this:

"When you enter the desert you are lost, and when you emerge you are reborn"

As my first year of college is drawing to a close, I'd like to reflect a bit on that idea, because it definitely holds true.

When I entered NYUAD, I was as lost as I ever was (except maybe during the college search).

I was in classes that were interesting, but that I didn't care about. I wasn't quite sure where I fit in this school, didn't know how to deal with being away from home, and was just generally disoriented and not the happiest.

But I found my friends, (re)found my passions, and began to figure this place out. I started to get un-lost. Not found, exactly, but less lost. Or, lost in a different way. A way that is going somewhere - not sure where, but towards where I should be.

And leaving the desert, I feel as though I have started the process of being reborn.

To start with the superficial - I entered college with long hair, am leaving with it cut boy-short, with no plans on growing it out anytime soon.

I am a theater major now. It isn't the safest choice, but it is one that lights the fire of my heart, mind, and soul.

I'm starting to figure out who I am.  Still working on being comfortable with what I find, but I am in the attempt of realization and love.

I think my confidence has grown. While I am still not the most outspoken, I am more apt to fight for things, and I have done things this year I never thought I would: sleep on a beach, train in a Kalari, perform in the Vagina Monologues, write numerous papers, kill hundreds of trees with said papers, live in the Middle East, camp in the desert, work with a professional theater company as a freshman, walk to get lost in a still-new city, explore topics that challenge my comfort level, audition and be accepted to the RealAD show, and, soon, write a 30-page paper and live in NYC for the summer.

I'm learning to let go, to forgive, to give myself the grace to fall and then stand back up. I'm not the best at any of those, but I am trying.

I don't know what the summer will bring.

I am leaving, reborn, only to return, to be lost again. To continue to grow and change. But not change, necessarily, instead, to "become more of myself".

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Opposites

There are some things that just don't go together.

PowerPoint and Burning Man are two of those things, and I put them together today.

My soul has lost a little part of itself, for corrupting the idealism and freedom of Burning Man with the establishment of PowerPoint, a presentation form I don't particularly like.

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I'm Not an Actor

... yet in the past three days, I have been in the Vagina Monologues, two student written short plays, and am memorizing a scene for my Making Theater class.

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Survivor

One of the shows I keep up with here in Abu Dhabi is Survivor.

I just watched the episode where the family members are flown in for a challenge.

And it made me cry. I am ready to hug my family and friends.

It has been a powerful, fun, but long semester.

Home in 13 days.

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