come see free (outdoor) theatre. and bring a picnic!


so i'm in this little play.
and we open thursday.

and can i admit something?
i'm so excited.
and terrified.
but mostly excited.

we're performing all over provo and salt lake.
always outside.
and always free.

which means you just have to show up.
you can bring blankets. or lawn chairs.
and picnics!
can i suggest bread and cheese and grapes and snap pea crisps?
(because that is what i would bring).

i'd love for you to come.
i'd love to see some friendly faces.

and also because,
the thing is...

i think this production is gonna be pretty darn good.

and i think you'd really enjoy yourself.

this weekend's performances:

Thursday, August 12 200 S Main Street, Pleasant Grove, 7 pm

Friday, August 13 Memorial Park @ 800 E and Center Street, Provo 7 pm

Saturday, August 14 Provo Farmers Market, 500 W Center Street, Provo 12 noon

Saturday, August 14 Kiwanis Park, 820 N 1100 E, Provo 7 pm

Monday, August 16 Nielson’s Grove, 2000 S Sandhill Road, Orem 7 pm

find the full performance schedule here at our website: Utah Shakespeare in the Park

or friend us on facebook for updates!

ps: unsure of the original source of the base image. in other words,
it is not my own, but if you know who's it is, please let me know!

one iced latte, please.

the last time i spoke to tom i said, sometimes, i just don't want to feel so much.

and he said, congratulations, you've just defined what an eating disorder is in a nutshell--the not wanting to feel.

i've been going through this interminable, undeniable period of writer's block.

as soon as i got here: capow, it hit. and i wondered if it had something to do with energy--with the transference of energy.

because, you see, for me...writing has always been an act of energy. of feeling. of seeing feelingly. what i mean is, i don't think it through terribly well. i mean i think it through, but mostly at a level of half-awareness. on a simmer of sorts and when it begins to boil...well, then i write. it's a feeling thing. of taking what i'm feeling and putting it on the page. so that while the reader may not get what i'm saying exactly, it doesn't quite matter, because they've lived in a different place, for just a moment. felt something just a wee bit their own. or not their own. they've experienced some sort of shift. (i think. i hope).

feeling and energy.

this post alone should be case enough to send me back to a school where someone can teach me how to write correctly and articulately and well. and yet, that's not really of interest to me. i want to write in the cracks. in the fault lines. i want to walk away with dirty fingers from sorting through the glorious and renegade weeds of my own life.

and so here i am, suddenly trying to act, and i can't write. and if i can't write, well then...
i always assumed it would be possible to do both. but this acting thing and tapping into emotions disperses and displaces my energy in such a way that the water only simmers. constantly, yes. but no real bubbles. no explosions of air.

and the thing is i'm quite sure that writing saved my life. and so i can't give it up.

how did it save my life? a good and valid question. well, because, if writing is feeling, and an eating disorder is the avoidance of feeling, then writing (for me) is the enemy of ned*. writing is the sorcerer's stone. the silver bullet. the long, sought after spoonful of sugar.

funny, i always thought it would be love.

acting is a feeling thing too. i do it feelingly. and i'm quite good at it. or i was. once. and yet in some ways (and i realized this just tonight) it was only perpetuating my sickness. as actors we are desperate to feel. but we play people who feel so very much that they want all the feeling taken out of them, want to stand barren. as actors we play people who rail against--who laugh when they need to cry--who become silent when the cries of rage overpower.

i thought i stepped away from acting because i couldn't align my health with the realities of the industry. but now i realize it was more than that. it was that it wasn't healthy for me to play people who didn't want to feel. because that was the reality of my life. it was too close.

there are days when i feel the residuals of ned. and suddenly it's as though i can't breathe. i mistakingly step into a pocket of space and time that he has claimed as his own and i am swimming through air, helplessly. and yes, i smile for the camera. and yes, as i do so i feel like a fraud. a liar. and while people kindly remind me of how far i've come, it doesn't feel as though i've taken but two steps from the ground zero of my own invited destruction.

and then just as quickly i step out of that pocket. and i see the many thousands of miles i've traversed. and i see the many miles i've left to go. and it all seems possible.

i don't believe the people that say this will be something i struggle with for the rest of my life. i think they're wrong. i think they don't know. i think that's something that's been said so often and for so long that others repeat it as fact.

i think i will look back on all this in two, ten, twenty years and i will in fact be doing just that, looking back. it won't be a daily battle. and i say all this because even now there are days where i feel so completely, so gloriously, so perfectly... normal.

i started all this rambling by declaring this a period of undeniable writer's block. undeniable might be a misnomer. maybe it's not writer's block. maybe it's just that i've not taken the time to sit down and hash it all out. to force the boil. sometimes words come easily and i've been so very fortunate to experience that. often. and yet there is just as much value in the uphill trek through the muck, the searching for words when words themselves seem impossible.

because this--all of this will make me a better actor if and when i decide that that's a path i want to embark on. writing is not the enemy of acting. and acting is not the enemy of good health. and, well...there you have it.

and maybe love is the answer. love of words and theatre and afternoon bike rides. and coffee, coffee too.

you know, i sat down to write a post on the virtues of coffee and this is what i got.

go figure.

*ned is the name for my nasty little eating disorder.
to read more, go here.

i'm teaching a little acting workshop. come play...


as it turns out i'm teaching a little workshop here in provo...
an acting workshop.
on american realism. (though i have a feeling it will have quite a bit to do with status and spacial relationships).
it's only $15 and there are still a few spots left.
so if you're interested, or you know someone...
or email: to reserve a spot.

photo via sabino.

over and up.

i'm sitting her looking out at the mountains. from where i sit at my borrowed, wooden desk they eclipse my window completely. and in turn swallow me whole.

these are the mountains facing east. new york lies beyond them. and believe me when i say, that metaphor is not lost on me.

there was never any doubt about this. this little expedition i'm on. there were concerns and moments of terror, yes. but that divinely-inspired voice that lives right there in my gut was very clear. go, it said. go, and life will unfold, you'll see. trust me, it ever so calmly pressed into me. wrapped me in its message.

and so here i am.

but even with God's blessing or goodwill or what have you, i wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and wake up three months from now. i longed to nod my head once and with the genie's blink become the person i'd been promised at the end of all this.

i just didn't want to have to do the necessary work to get there.

but the mountains, of course. and their all powerful metaphor. a gigantic mountain range between me and the life i once lived. or the life i will live. or the life i dream of living.
this eruption of green plopped right there. right in front of me.

when i was little we'd take road trips through the western united states. and my mom would always say, imagine how the pioneers did it. how did they do it?

and the thing is i sure as hell don't know. those covered wagons. entire families in tow. rocky terrain. leaving behind all that is known, not only heading toward a new future, but carving out a never before seen path along the way. can you even imagine? the courage of it. startling.

the only way over the mountain before me is up. one small step in front of the other. a metaphorical tapping in to my own inner pioneer.

so okay. here goes...


i have arrived in utah where i will be for the next three months.

right now three months seems like an interminable amount of time to spend in a place where i don't really know anyone. in a room that feels awfully tiny, awfully white, and awfully far from home.

but the mountains are large and green and one feels like they might just reach out their hand and actually touch them.

so i'll let the mountains do their work on me. and i'll be okay.

even if i have to cry a bit along the way.

like yesterday. on the plane. because i don't know that i've ever been so frightened. or felt so far away from what i had once imagined for my life.

or like today. because i miss my parents (and some really darn good tex-mex food).

but parents (and lupe's) will be in texas when i return in september.

and new york will be on the cusp of autumn when i finally make it back.

and who knows where life will be. and that's the exciting part, right?