the chiding autumn ~ a midsummer night's dream

I know now that I have been hiding from myself – okay, that’s not entirely true. It’s not that I’ve been hiding per se, but I think I’ve been attempting to sometimes allow my heart to be dictated by what I supposed I should be. I didn’t really realize that I been held captive within the confines of my own restraints. I’ve built walls, I’ve put up fortresses around pieces of myself I didn’t know I was trying to hide from others. I pride myself on loving people completely, always being myself. Despite my complete idiosyncrasies of not being able to handle silly things like weird noises that people make with their mouths, or the irritation I feel when I hear “I love you” carelessly tossed about one’s lips, almost in the same tone as “Hey, what’s up?” – cause then I don’t feel it necessary to reciprocate the phrase, which can come across as heartless. And pondering all of these little things, I have, somewhat unknowingly, kept friends apace with my non-compliance of the heart.

I have often said things as removed from emotion as: “I love you as much as my inability to love allows me to.” – which isn’t quite truthful in concept. I have a lot of love to give. I love everyone. In fact, sometimes I think I love too much, but when it comes down to the pressures of love, the expectations of love, I fall apart. Sometimes I can be so affectionate, and sometimes receiving affection is like hearing someone relentlessly fumbling with a candy wrapper during a production of Swan Lake, when the music is lilting and mesmerizing, as the ballerina is fluttering to her death amongst a pile of feathers on stage, and all you can focus on is that damn candy wrapper being tormented between the weathered hands of the idiot behind you. Yeah, sometimes love is like that.

I know I don’t have to hide anymore though. It’s okay to feel love differently toward different people, and it’s okay to express it glowingly on some days, and cinch it closed beneath pursed lips on others.

The leaves are falling outside my window right now, and as each branch becomes less clothed with it’s summertime companions, the tree seems a bit lighter, a bit more free; yet all the leaves seem to chase the others as they glide through the wind, gathering in sepia piles at the tree’s roots. No matter how hard they try to cling to his limbs, they can’t help but let go eventually and fly away with their seasonal pals. After all the leaves are gone, the tree is still there, still watching the world go by, still welcoming the birds to his branches, and the squirrels to his nuts (sorry, I couldn’t resist) - warming his soul in the sun, and sleeping in the moonlight, keeping post in the neighborhood under the street lamps. I wonder if he’s happy. For so much of the year, he has no choice in the matter of friendships. The leaves stay with him whether he welcomes them or not. But when winter teases their loyalty, they find humor in providing piles of fun for children’s games, as their little hands and feet scamper through the crispy outlines of the parched foliage. As the tree stands through the seasons, he meets so many. And knows that next spring, a whole new gathering of leaves will join him, and remain steadily loyal throughout the fall.

I feel as though, perhaps it’s always a bit like fall within my heart, never wanting to have anyone cling to me too tightly, so that as they fall away, I can smile and watch them from afar, admiring the qualities I’ve loved of them, and knowing that a piece of them will always remain with me. But it’s nice to love and let go, to have friends who come and go. It’s nice to endure the seasons with different picturesque views, each one different from the one before it, and yet equally as beautiful. And sometimes, there are leaves so spectacular that you can’t help but want to keep it pressed tightly within the confines of your scrapbook; but that’s when you examine it carefully, place it amongst the others, and know that one day, when you’re walking down the street, and you stub your toe, and mumble curses about how awful your day has been, the wind will blow just right, and that leaf will be at your fingertips, reminding you that even when you let go for a while, the most beautiful things will return to you -- if you hope, love, and allow your heart to believe that the fates do exist.

and proofs as clear as founts in july ~ king henry viii

5.July.2010

It’s a Rufus Wainwright kind of day. Before I continue, perhaps I should credit Mr. Wainwright for the soundtrack of my afternoon journaling. Here’s to you, Rufus.

I finally - stopped. By that, I mean, I’m through with bustling throughout the house. I’ve been away all weekend, living the good life at Casa del Sol Resort & Swim Spa. I had the most wonderfully relaxing weekend. Okay, so it wasn’t really a resort, but I did spend the weekend at Tim Larson’s - dear friend, confidant, and theatrical consort. He and his brother have a beautiful home in Bellevue, and they invited me over for the weekend.

Surprisingly, after the night I previously mentioned in my other entry, I somehow still managed to wake up and head over to Tim’s house by 11:00am. We were in the pool by noon, margaritas by two o‘clock, wine by six o‘clock, dinner by eight o’clock, night swimming to commence shortly thereafter, followed by a poolside nightcap, preceded by late night television comedies and deep discussions of sordid lives; then off to bed by two o’clock in the morning.

Fourth of July brunch was served at eleven o’clock, and by eleven forty-five, me, Laura, Morgan, Tim, Kenny, and Ted were all floating in the pool, laughing, talking, playing games, and simply relaxing hopelessly on this gorgeous, July afternoon.

After yet another incredible dinner, Laura, Morgan, Tim and I traipsed off to the front yard to enjoy the panoramic view of the neighborhood, fireworks display, making a marvelous game out of guessing the color of the firework-yet-to-come. Of course, five year old Morgan seemed to truly delight in this game, which made the three of us adults enjoy it’s silliness even more.

The shooting stars of light soared elegantly through the shadows of the skies, arching gracefully above the treetops, lighting up the heavens as they couldn’t soar any higher without bursting into unexpected colors through the starlit evening. A cerulean hibiscus, fuchsia starfish; illuminated baby’s breath, and more fairy dust than I’d ever seen, poured down upon our eyes of blue and deep brown.

Even sillier than the color guessing came was the shadow creature game that we played on the lawn, creating stories to match our elongated, moonlit silhouettes. Sometimes my quiet silhouette was overtaken by Tim’s monstrous one, as he chased it about the lawn, and sometimes Morgan’s five-year-old, diminutive outline seemed to pounce on mine even more-so than the six and a half foot Tim’s!

I went to bed that night, completely content and full of magical stories. All that previously seemed to cause me anxiety, and all of those disparaging thoughts that had previously overtaken my consciousness throughout the earlier days of the prior weeks before me, somehow found a different residence for the weekend, leaving me freed of my previously heavy mind.

I’m home now. The kitchen’s tidied. The living room is picked up. I’m unpacked from my weekend away - my room is as pristine as if Mary Poppins herself had been here, snapping her fingers and singing about spoons and sugar, while chirping birds sat perched on her outstretched fingers - my clothes put away and pillows fluffed. My bronzed skin seems so foreign against these ecru cushions of my writing chair, my hair highlighted by the sun’s tickling right arm. (In order to understand that slight inside joke, you’d have to ask my mother about the story I dictated to her, that she wrote on a napkin when I was merely four years old and too young to write for myself. Simply mention “Sun‘s tickling arm“ to my mother, and she‘ll gladly tell you all about how I started writing stories, once I figured out I could translate my imagination into scripted words. She LOVES to talk about that.) All the creatures of the house are curled up in my room, apparently also fans of Rufus, as they are quietly snoozing - one at my feet, two on the bed, one on the window sill, and one beneath the chair - as Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk plays on in the background.

It’s been a wonderful weekend. I know I only have four more days until the week is over and I can perhaps try again and have just as exciting Saturday and Sunday at this week‘s closing, but I just don’t want this magical weekend to end…

in his moan, the ship splits on the rock ~ king henry vi

I don't even know where to begin. Life has taken so many twists and turns and so many beautiful moments have occurred in the past several weeks that I feel like I could write a novel and still not capture the experiences that have put such detailed footnotes in the chapters of my oh-so-intricately woven life.

Let me start with the beginning, and hopefully, this entry won't be too terribly lengthy by the time I come to a conclusion.

On February 24, 2010, I was doing some research on the character whom I'll be portraying in Titanic: The Musical and I stumbled upon a website for the Titanic Museum in Branson, Missouri. I thought, "wow!, this is so amazing!" I didn't know there was a museum there, and I was contemplating the idea of a small road trip with several of the cast members. I thought perhaps it would make for a neat bonding experience, it's an 8 hour drive, we could stay the night, go through the museum - and so I perused the website looking for information on group rates. When I got to the section with the rates, there was an error in the website's functionality, and so I picked up the phone and called them.

"Thank you for calling Titanic, this is Carol, how may I help you?"

"I was calling to get information on group rates - I tried looking online, but I think there's something wrong with the website."

"Oh, well, I can surely help you with that!! Are you looking for information on Titanic Branson, or Titanic Pigeon Forge?"

My eyes widened. Titanic Pigeon Forge? That's much closer than Missouri...

"Well, I didn't know there WAS a Titanic Pigeon Forge!! I'm in Nashville, so that's MUCH closer!!"

"It sure is!" she replied, "That location isn't actually open yet, but the grand opening is April 8th, 2010."

Carol then proceeded to give me information on the museum and told me all about how Regis Philbin was going to be christening the ship, and that there were going to be all sorts of artifacts, and dignitaries, as well as descendants from some of the ship's passengers!! I was getting so excited, especially since our show, Titanic: the Musical opens on April 15th, 2010 at the Nashville Dinner Theater. I was hoping that perhaps we could take a group "field trip" and tour the museum - I knew it would be such a great experience for everyone and bring us all closer together. Then something clicked inside my brain. Wait a minute. We're about to perform this big musical, we already have a cast and costumes for this show -- the only thing this Museum Grand Opening is missing, is us...

"Carol, I know this is a complete shot in the dark, and you probably aren't even the person I would need to talk to about this, but, have you ever heard of Titanic: The Musical?"

"Yes, I have, actually, though I've never seen it myself."

After explaining it to her and elaborating on fine tuned details about the Broadway show, I continued to paint a picture for her of how magical it truly is to see in person. I then said:

"Carol, I want you to go on a journey with me. Picture the cast of Titanic: The Musical performing right there, in front of the replica of the Titanic, at your grand opening of the museum. I mean, imagine all of the actors, performing the opening number from the musical, recreating the actual boarding of the ship, and setting up this magical event in front of the hundreds of people watching! They would feel as though they were actually there at the dock of the ship, watching the real people who once boarded the Titanic all those years ago."

"Wow, you seem so passionate about this, and it does sound like a lovely idea. Let me get you in contact with our Events Coordinator."

As I waited for her to get back with me and give me the phone number of Gayle, the Events Coordinator, I hear: "Hi, this is Gayle, how may I assist you?"

Wait a minute. I thought I was going to simply get a phone number or contact email, or a voicemail - but no, I was actually on the phone with the Events Coordinator herself. Oh dear Lord, Lauren, what have you gotten yourself into...

I go into the same spiel that I verbalized with Carol, only I embellished it a little more, and did my best to paint a very convincing picture. I was even getting misty-eyed at my own dance of poetic words during this description, and at the conclusion of my speech, she said: "Well, this really and truly is intriguing and you seem so connected with this idea: I need to get you in contact with the owner of the museum, Mary Kellogg." (yes, that is correct, Kellogg as in the cereal company - this woman was also the vice president of Disney for 14 years as well as the producer of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and Regis & Kelly)

After getting through to the right people, I was asked to put together a first proposal, including what our cast would be providing for the opening of the museum, and she wanted to see different examples of media for our production, including our promo reels, publicity shots, and sample tracks of our vocals...it was 11:00am, and she wanted all of this by 4:00pm Central time. Holy ship. Tim Larson, director of Titanic: The Musical, was out of town and I was doing my best to track him down. I first needed his approval to move forward with this, not to mention I needed the approval of not only the theater company, but the rights to perform the show at a public event. Somehow, I managed to get through to Tim, get the email put together with the photos and reels, and emailed it on time. Within an hour and 40 minutes, I had a return email from Mary Kellogg, requesting a conference call set up for two days later.

Needless to say, after a great deal of back and forth, proposing, getting together transportation with the help of Jane Schnelle, lodging with the assistance of Laura Amond, lots of manpower from Brad Kamer, the dedication from our costumers, Cat Eberwine and Jennifer Kleine, not to mention all the time and energy spent with the rehearsals lead by Tim Larson and John Kennerly, we were given a large budget from the museum, and the cast was asked to be the highlighted feature at the Grand Opening of a $25 million dollar museum!!

We left for Pigeon Forge at noon on April 7th, arriving in time for mic checks, tech runs, and a rehearsal on stage. Exhausted yet excited, we made our way to the 16,000 sqft mansion on the mountainside, in which we were staying, and had a wonderful time bonding with one another through our Pigeon Forge adventure.

The day of the grand opening, we boarded our bus at 8:30am and made our way to the Titanic Museum, and despite the rain, had a beautiful time experiencing this journey together.

Above all, we were the first to tour the museum, in costume of course, and we were also fortunate enough to meet several of the descendants from those brave souls who were lost at sea 98 years ago. The famous "Ida and Isidor Strauss" - the founders and owners of Macy's Department Store were brought back to life as I shook the hand of their great-great granddaughter, and heard her story, and the beloved story of her great-great grandmother. And as I watched her embrace the two cast members who take on the two Strauss characters aboard our own Titanic (Mary Corby and Steve Luboniecki), I saw haunted memories pour from the tears that rolled down Mary's cheeks as the feeling of human connection was brought to her character, and to her heart. She was embracing the great-great granddaughter of a woman who chose to stay with her husband as the ship sank far to the depths below, instead of taking a seat in the lifeboat with all the other first class women. At that moment, I didn't see Mary Corby, I saw Ida Strauss, caressing someone who, until then, had only been embraced by memories of her great-great grandmother, and yet, was now being embraced by one who seemed to capture the heart of a woman she never had the pleasure of knowing.

I will never forget going through the museum, seeing the artifacts, the original newspapers that went to press after the tragedy hit the public, standing in the third class corridor, stuck between the stairwell and the gate, watching as the water flooded through, feeling what it would have been like if I truly had been trapped on board, reading the poetry from a survivor who found it easier to account for his experience through prose, walking down the grand staircase, strolling through the captain's cabin and onto the promenade deck, where the temperature of the room dropped to a chilling 32 degrees, and the water on the other side of the ship was at the same temperature as it was when the passengers froze to death as they tried to swim to safety, and seeing the memorial wall with the names of everyone who was lost at sea.

It was emotional, breathtaking, and horrifying, all at the same time. Our cast was brought closer together than we hoped to be, and a more human connection surfaced through the discovery of the life of these passengers, as we saw through story and historical memorabilia the hearts and souls of the lives of those who boarded the infamous Titanic on that unassuming morning of April 10, 1912.

To all those who lost their lives, and to all those who continue to share their legend, godspeed.

the web of our life is of a mingled yarn ~ all's well that ends well

Have you ever had a connection with someone you've never even met?

I've been following a blog of someone who somehow, manages to inspire me, causes me to think about things that I might otherwise cluster in the dusty and shadowed corners of my thoughts, provokes me to face things that typically I might turn away from, and yet, we've never even spoken.

Something within me was stirred this morning.

I was reading his blog, and he was telling his story of finally being able to "take the next step", to move on, or, rather, cycle on, I suppose. (he's a multi-talented athlete who views cycling as an escape, as well as a tool for bettering his mental and physical journeys though life.)

Like me, his relationship of many years ended in 2009, and he's been transitioning into a new life. I've always thought of myself as strong: strong of heart, strong of will, strong with determination, strong with character, and I have never really let my guard down long enough to see that it's not always about strength. Sometimes, it's about your ability to put your faith within the strength of others, who are right there, by your side, waiting for you to reach out to them, so that they may share the weight of your burdens.

A quote from his blog: But this has been a year of growth as well as pain. In tearing down my facade of strength and contentment, emotions were released that I had previously pushed down, and I found real strength in letting them see the light of day. It was overwhelming at first, but in dealing with emotional baggage I have been carrying around for far too long, I feel like I have grown beyond simple recovery, and may be coming out the other side a stronger person.

My marriage of 9 years was ended after a battle of love and life was defeated by the darkened shadows of smoke and mirrors. I thought I was so strong because I didn't even shed a tear over the loss of my relationship, when in fact, I think, perhaps, I didn't allow my friends to help me through it. I just pushed everything as far back in my brain as I could, so as not to have to deal with it. And now, I can't cry. My life has changed so much, and there are so many things I've seen again, for the first time. Not everyone gets that chance. The chance to start over, the chance for a new life. I suppose I'm trying to see the brightness through the murky chasms of failure. I felt like I had failed at something that I always knew I'd be able to succeed. And yet, I feel as though, slowly, that failure has turned into an unexpected opportunity to thrive; an opportunity to rekindle life that had become stilted within myself.

It feels so wonderful to be starting fresh. I'm finding my solace within the place that always seems like a second home: in the arms of the theatrical world, fulfilling my heart's desire with my perpetual life on stage. I've always used performing as a way to escape - a way to become someone else and get away for a while - find a new walk, a new way to talk, a new personality, new mannerisms for a person that I would never truly become, yet now, I'm using these characters as a way to discover new things about myself and as a release for my well-being. It's no longer an escape. It feels so strange. When I look back at my tumultuous marriage, I see a beautiful life, a hard life, a wonderfully happy marriage, a marriage of stone lives, a home filled with laughter, a home filled with silence, truthful hearts, a heart of lies and deception, two people bound with love, two people broken by mistrust. For ten years, I was with someone, and we had proclaimed that our together would last forever. Neither of us knew that forever would arrive so soon. Sometimes I regret my decision from 9 years ago to commit my life to him, to join our lives as one. Sometimes I wish that I would be able to say that I had married the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. But wishing only wounds the heart and my wounds have healed. I have a new love for so many things I felt I wasn't allowed to fully love before. I know what makes me happy, and I can now reach for that happiness without being stopped by the boundaries of my previous life. I have found new love within a heart of someone who has shown me a kind of love that I thought only existed in Jane Austen novels or within the Iambic Pentameter of Shakespeare's sonnets. If I had stayed in the life I once had, I never would have discovered that love could be this good.

I have moved across a world of disillusionment into a land of understanding, and you know what, it feels pretty damn good.

but now to task the tasker ~ love's labour's lost

Updates on my 1-9.

1. finish writing my children's book. ~ So far I have been making small changes, but nothing huge. Hopefully my inspiration will magically appear in my brain and translate to paper.

2. hire an agent for commercials and film. ~ I need to get new headshots first. Since I'm really getting into even better shape with SWING!, I'm gonna wait until that's over and then get headshots and hire an agent.

3. voice lessons. ~ Nope.

4. find a way to appear on "Ellen". ~ No clue yet how I'm going to accomplish this one.

5. watch every Cate Blanchett movie ever made. ~ There are 29 movies available to watch at the moment, and 2 more are being released in theaters this year. I watched "Paradise Road" this morning which makes a total of 20 films of hers that I have watched.

6. pour myself into 2 of The Bard's plays. ~ I need to pick 2. I haven't done that yet.

7. start a new and interesting reading project. ~ As I have decided to read a biography on each of the U.S. Presidents, this is the new project I have started. Mr. Washington arrived last night, so it looks like we'll be spending the next 401 pages of his life together.

8. discover new wines. ~ This is something I should do tonight.

9. read 1 play by Christopher Marlowe. ~ I have chosen to read "Edward II".

one might read the book of fate ~ sonnet 59

I have decided what my reading project is for 0-ten.

I realize that I have always been consumed with European history and find everything about the British monarchy and the traditions of their lifestyles completely fascinating. Every king and queen, every playwright and poet, every folklore and every tidbit of information I can gather on this dusty lives, I will.

This year, I am trading in the Tudors for the Johns, Georges and Jameses.

It's America's turn.

This year I am going to read the biographies of every United States president that has ever been in office. I have already ordered the biographies of the first five. Each book averages about 600 pages. With 43 presidents, including the president incumbent, that is a total of 25,800 pages of the lives of America's leaders.

I'm pretty excited about this reading project. I love biographies. I love history. I can't wait for Mr. Washington to arrive at my house. I'm sure our first date will involve wine, a cozy setup by the fireplace, with my arms wrapped around his spine...very enticing indeed...

all our yeseterdays ~ (macbeth)

This is my first attempt at blogging...ever.

As I tend to be somewhat of a journalist, my old-fashioned ink to leatherbound journals tend to win over the battle with keystrokes and mousepads. So, here we go.

I've been told recently by a dear friend of mine, that his wish for me this year of 2010 (or as I prefer to say "0-ten"), is this:

"I am hoping for you, in 2010, that you find your voice and experience your talent on a larger level than just the isolated community production here and there or the occasional note-posting on FaceBook with your writing. Nothing wrong with either thing...but...you got it girl...now believe and just go and do it."

Well, this blog site isn't Broadway, and it isn't Variety magazine, but it's a start. It's a documented accountability of my daily life and a visual encouragement for myself, to pursue my dreams, and keep notes of just exactly what my life consists of and how to make that consistency even better.

Though my life as a nanny by day, actress by night and writer by every other time inbetween is some of the most rewarding work I have ever done, I might be ready to turn off the night-light and switch on the spotlight for good.

But for now, the kids have awakened from their afternoon nap, and I have a whole world of fairy princesses, and far away lands filled with trains and pirate kings awaiting me...that is, until rehearsal at 7:00 tonight, in which I will trade in my sneakers for character shoes, and step into a world of dancing and singing...

And so it continues...