Fuerzabruta Trailer
DeLaGuarda (Ricoletta set up?)
Fuerzabruta piee "Mylar" - NYC opening night previews! (I think)
Looks like Tamara, Brooke, Gwyn, and ___________
Friday, October 19, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Same place, different year
The Blogger picture was taken July 2006. These pictures were taken this week on different days, October 2007, at the same place, Apple 5th Ave.
Injured
Its tough being human.
Why? Because sometimes the body has to heal after injury. Yeah, I'm fricken injured and it sucks. During one of the acts, La Vela, my foot got tangled in the skirt and my body slammed into the mylar. My ankle grunted most of the pain. I went to the ER that night. I was sure I didn't brake it because it wasn't terribly swollen, but I did feel a few things pop on impact, which is sometimes worse.
I've been going to physical therapy for about a week now with "my personal Jesus", Mark Hunter-Hall. My mind is all ready to go back in the show and perform. He's been giving me exercises to help heal it, massaging it, icing it and even specific instructions on what I should do to it on a daily basis when he's not around. He's healed a plethora of injuries on me and countless others too. He just knows how to deal with egotistical physical actors who think than can do superhuman tricks on a regular basis.
See, in my head, I can do anything. But my ankle isn't responding with the finesse that I want it to. Because nature takes its time, I am frustrated.
This brings me back to an article that Mikey sent to me, on how we are here (on earth) to have a physical experience, not necessarily a spiritual one. The article is called Perspectives: You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body. by C.S. Lewis. Mikey, Freddy, Juan-Martin, Daniel and I were lamenting on the topic in the men's dressing room discussing views of life and death for a few minutes during a rehearsal break. It certainly made us think. Of course this lovely conversation that could have easily gone into the twilight hours, but quit because rehearsal began. I've actually been revisiting the statement every day since. Which somehow brings me back to where I am right now, today, being somewhat confused on why the healing process must take so long.
Daily chores have been challenging. Even just as I am waking up, I'll point my feet in my bed to see if they crack right. I've been missing that good crack because every day since I've sprained it, it aches when I point. I can't even fully point it. And until I can point it right, that being my first movement of the day, I know immediately that it hasn't been healed. (Thank God I haven't gotten the loft bed yet. I couldn't imagine climbing ladders to get in and out of bed right now.) Even walking to and from work, climbing stairs in either the bus or subway, is such a hassle. ARGH. These are among the little things that make NYC living so hard.
My friends have been really great during this process. Brookie made me a wonderful dinner last night, which fueled both my body and my soul. (In fact, I'm having the left over right now.) Everyone in the theater (cast, crew, creators, ushers, house, production) is always asking my progress, wondering if I'm alright. Most the time I can fake it, I'll respond with a smile and say, "I'm fine, getting better. Thanks for asking!"
Not until today did I realize I had been bottling up my sorrow. Hallie asked me in the women's dressing room if I was really alright, just her and I were in there, and my eyes nearly welt. I could tell she was trying to scratch the surface.
Then Gwynnie soon entered the room, my soul sister, and I just didn't want to loose it while I was at the theater, so I left the room and recanted to a lonely bathroom stall away from everyone else for some privacy. The presence of certain friends surely have a powerful effect sometimes, especially when words haven't yet been exchanged.
I think Tamara and Marlyn most have convened. If not actually, then spiritually. I respect their talents so much and pretty much trust most everything of what they say when it comes to their crafts. On separate occasions during the day, they both made a comment that I should talk to Diqui James, the artistic director, directly so he knows exactly what's going on. It was the hierarchy of angels working again (sometimes the younger ones call you to get to speak the older ones... hmmmm...). Like C.S. Lewis said, we're spirits having a physical experience.
So when I mustered up the confidence and energy, I went upstairs to the theater to see if Diqui had a moment to spare. We caught eyes, cool, and I had hoped that he'd come towards my direction when he was done with his meeting, and he did!
As soon as he came walking towards me, I smiled. "Diqui, I just wanted to tell you that I'm so sorry I'm injured right now." Before I could finish the sentence, my eyes overflowed with tears. I couldn't believe I was crying. I thought I was strong, but I had no idea my barrier would come crashing down. I sort of couldn't believe I was having this moment right then. I didn't expect to cry while I was talking to Diqui, it just sort of happened.
I felt so lucky that our artistic director was super cool AND human AND gave me a hug as I cried. "I hate feeling like this," I said in a strange voice, "I hate being injured."
His response was, "Yes, I know. Its so hard to be human sometimes. We want to be super heros, but sometimes we are only human." That made me laugh. "I've been injured too. I understand what you must be going through." I believed him.
I must admit that being injured is embarrassing to me. Its so awkward. When you're put in a situation where you're expected to perform with the cream of the crop, the selected few, and you fall under because your body can't provide you with the actions you really want to be doing, its maddening to all hell!
I don't know how I'm going to do this, but I have accept this experience somehow. I just have to go through with it. If my perspective should be equated with C.S. Lewis' idea, then I have to look around and attempt to see the bigger picture. In essence, create my philosophy, I guess.
Maybe I'll get to perform tomorrow. Maybe I won't. Maybe I won't perform until after we open on Oct. 24. I'd love to make the assumption of when, but I guess I'm not the one who makes that call am I.
I'm not the first to have an injury, nor will I be the last. In fact, my brother and my nephew are injured right now too. They both are going through a surgical process to heal their sport injuries. Why is this happening at the same time for my family? Its all part of life's process. Coincidence is a concept I try to read into. So I figured I must talk aloud about my experience because I don't know what else to do with these thoughts. Its important to me to be helpful to my family as well as my friends.
That moment of telling Diqui what was going on in my mind was so freeing. Injury is a part of life, my life, everyones life. Its an experience that humans go through, a thought that he reminded me of. Its these types of moments that us define as human, perhaps even define us as individuals and how we cope.
So I guess this is how I heal. I needed to communicate to someone I trusted what I was going through. It was what I needed to do to get better. This is how I delt with my problem.
Together, Diqui and I figured out a track in the show I could have once I was ready. We even discussed how my costume would help cover my taped ankle. When the conversation was over, I was satisfied. The mental weight of the injury had been lifted.
I've discovered that it may be important to share this problem, whoever's reading. Because once we can show each other that we're vulnerable, that we each have our breaking points, we can teach each other how to move forward, how to get better and work better.
Lastly, when I left the theater tonight, three Artistic Coordinators (trainers), Laura, Martin and Juan-Martin, were hanging outside the theater door. I told them that I might be back in the show tomorrow. They where happy for my optimism, and politely said, "...if not, then wait. That's OK too."
Why? Because sometimes the body has to heal after injury. Yeah, I'm fricken injured and it sucks. During one of the acts, La Vela, my foot got tangled in the skirt and my body slammed into the mylar. My ankle grunted most of the pain. I went to the ER that night. I was sure I didn't brake it because it wasn't terribly swollen, but I did feel a few things pop on impact, which is sometimes worse.
I've been going to physical therapy for about a week now with "my personal Jesus", Mark Hunter-Hall. My mind is all ready to go back in the show and perform. He's been giving me exercises to help heal it, massaging it, icing it and even specific instructions on what I should do to it on a daily basis when he's not around. He's healed a plethora of injuries on me and countless others too. He just knows how to deal with egotistical physical actors who think than can do superhuman tricks on a regular basis.
See, in my head, I can do anything. But my ankle isn't responding with the finesse that I want it to. Because nature takes its time, I am frustrated.
This brings me back to an article that Mikey sent to me, on how we are here (on earth) to have a physical experience, not necessarily a spiritual one. The article is called Perspectives: You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body. by C.S. Lewis. Mikey, Freddy, Juan-Martin, Daniel and I were lamenting on the topic in the men's dressing room discussing views of life and death for a few minutes during a rehearsal break. It certainly made us think. Of course this lovely conversation that could have easily gone into the twilight hours, but quit because rehearsal began. I've actually been revisiting the statement every day since. Which somehow brings me back to where I am right now, today, being somewhat confused on why the healing process must take so long.
Daily chores have been challenging. Even just as I am waking up, I'll point my feet in my bed to see if they crack right. I've been missing that good crack because every day since I've sprained it, it aches when I point. I can't even fully point it. And until I can point it right, that being my first movement of the day, I know immediately that it hasn't been healed. (Thank God I haven't gotten the loft bed yet. I couldn't imagine climbing ladders to get in and out of bed right now.) Even walking to and from work, climbing stairs in either the bus or subway, is such a hassle. ARGH. These are among the little things that make NYC living so hard.
My friends have been really great during this process. Brookie made me a wonderful dinner last night, which fueled both my body and my soul. (In fact, I'm having the left over right now.) Everyone in the theater (cast, crew, creators, ushers, house, production) is always asking my progress, wondering if I'm alright. Most the time I can fake it, I'll respond with a smile and say, "I'm fine, getting better. Thanks for asking!"
Not until today did I realize I had been bottling up my sorrow. Hallie asked me in the women's dressing room if I was really alright, just her and I were in there, and my eyes nearly welt. I could tell she was trying to scratch the surface.
Then Gwynnie soon entered the room, my soul sister, and I just didn't want to loose it while I was at the theater, so I left the room and recanted to a lonely bathroom stall away from everyone else for some privacy. The presence of certain friends surely have a powerful effect sometimes, especially when words haven't yet been exchanged.
I think Tamara and Marlyn most have convened. If not actually, then spiritually. I respect their talents so much and pretty much trust most everything of what they say when it comes to their crafts. On separate occasions during the day, they both made a comment that I should talk to Diqui James, the artistic director, directly so he knows exactly what's going on. It was the hierarchy of angels working again (sometimes the younger ones call you to get to speak the older ones... hmmmm...). Like C.S. Lewis said, we're spirits having a physical experience.
So when I mustered up the confidence and energy, I went upstairs to the theater to see if Diqui had a moment to spare. We caught eyes, cool, and I had hoped that he'd come towards my direction when he was done with his meeting, and he did!
As soon as he came walking towards me, I smiled. "Diqui, I just wanted to tell you that I'm so sorry I'm injured right now." Before I could finish the sentence, my eyes overflowed with tears. I couldn't believe I was crying. I thought I was strong, but I had no idea my barrier would come crashing down. I sort of couldn't believe I was having this moment right then. I didn't expect to cry while I was talking to Diqui, it just sort of happened.
I felt so lucky that our artistic director was super cool AND human AND gave me a hug as I cried. "I hate feeling like this," I said in a strange voice, "I hate being injured."
His response was, "Yes, I know. Its so hard to be human sometimes. We want to be super heros, but sometimes we are only human." That made me laugh. "I've been injured too. I understand what you must be going through." I believed him.
I must admit that being injured is embarrassing to me. Its so awkward. When you're put in a situation where you're expected to perform with the cream of the crop, the selected few, and you fall under because your body can't provide you with the actions you really want to be doing, its maddening to all hell!
I don't know how I'm going to do this, but I have accept this experience somehow. I just have to go through with it. If my perspective should be equated with C.S. Lewis' idea, then I have to look around and attempt to see the bigger picture. In essence, create my philosophy, I guess.
Maybe I'll get to perform tomorrow. Maybe I won't. Maybe I won't perform until after we open on Oct. 24. I'd love to make the assumption of when, but I guess I'm not the one who makes that call am I.
I'm not the first to have an injury, nor will I be the last. In fact, my brother and my nephew are injured right now too. They both are going through a surgical process to heal their sport injuries. Why is this happening at the same time for my family? Its all part of life's process. Coincidence is a concept I try to read into. So I figured I must talk aloud about my experience because I don't know what else to do with these thoughts. Its important to me to be helpful to my family as well as my friends.
That moment of telling Diqui what was going on in my mind was so freeing. Injury is a part of life, my life, everyones life. Its an experience that humans go through, a thought that he reminded me of. Its these types of moments that us define as human, perhaps even define us as individuals and how we cope.
So I guess this is how I heal. I needed to communicate to someone I trusted what I was going through. It was what I needed to do to get better. This is how I delt with my problem.
Together, Diqui and I figured out a track in the show I could have once I was ready. We even discussed how my costume would help cover my taped ankle. When the conversation was over, I was satisfied. The mental weight of the injury had been lifted.
I've discovered that it may be important to share this problem, whoever's reading. Because once we can show each other that we're vulnerable, that we each have our breaking points, we can teach each other how to move forward, how to get better and work better.
Lastly, when I left the theater tonight, three Artistic Coordinators (trainers), Laura, Martin and Juan-Martin, were hanging outside the theater door. I told them that I might be back in the show tomorrow. They where happy for my optimism, and politely said, "...if not, then wait. That's OK too."
Monday, October 15, 2007
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
INFATUATION
sipping an actual coconut on Ludlow during a full moon
hearing a rock star cellist play down the street with one of my best friend's singing
looking around the room and knowing I have a rich history with every gorgeous face
piling up in the bathtub in the kitchen
being interviewed on a fire escape
two buck chuck is three buck chuck and somehow I love it more
riding a beach cruiser to a playground...aka work.
trying to figure what color to paint the walls
iChatting my roommate while we're both home
cracking up with my best friends for no reason at all and having my abs ache
hearing my friends speak broken Spanish
hearing my friends speak broken English
seeing Oz run up to me and screaming my name on 1st Ave
sitting on a street bench and watching my friends walk up with a huge smile
watching a few leaves turn yellow
feeling the air getting crisp
sitting on the sidewalk and hearing my friend talk about her birth mom
having the ability to buy a cupcake and a guitar across the street
making plans to go dancing on a weekday
smelling a rose on my kitchen table
getting a pepperoni slice whenever I want
ordering at Republic and thinking we'll buy some clothes too
argueing with an old friend because I don't call enough
knowing there was an elephant in Dumbo over the weekend
knowing there's going to be camels in midtown for Christmas
being invited to plays and sitting in the first row
knowing I can walk to my best friends' apartment for dinner
discussing keychain organization on a beach
driving to a beach to surf and sleeping on the bag instead
waking up to three friends telling surf stories and still in their wetsuits
piling up in a car from Brooklyn and ducking when the cops drive by
telling new friends about my star ring
exchanging piercing stories
sharing 9/11 stories
creating workshops
wearing flip flops with jeans
learning three chords
looking at the pictures taken yesterday on someone else's camera or iPhone
knowing I can do this again tomorrow
ahhhhh...NYC. I've missed you.
hearing a rock star cellist play down the street with one of my best friend's singing
looking around the room and knowing I have a rich history with every gorgeous face
piling up in the bathtub in the kitchen
being interviewed on a fire escape
two buck chuck is three buck chuck and somehow I love it more
riding a beach cruiser to a playground...aka work.
trying to figure what color to paint the walls
iChatting my roommate while we're both home
cracking up with my best friends for no reason at all and having my abs ache
hearing my friends speak broken Spanish
hearing my friends speak broken English
seeing Oz run up to me and screaming my name on 1st Ave
sitting on a street bench and watching my friends walk up with a huge smile
watching a few leaves turn yellow
feeling the air getting crisp
sitting on the sidewalk and hearing my friend talk about her birth mom
having the ability to buy a cupcake and a guitar across the street
making plans to go dancing on a weekday
smelling a rose on my kitchen table
getting a pepperoni slice whenever I want
ordering at Republic and thinking we'll buy some clothes too
argueing with an old friend because I don't call enough
knowing there was an elephant in Dumbo over the weekend
knowing there's going to be camels in midtown for Christmas
being invited to plays and sitting in the first row
knowing I can walk to my best friends' apartment for dinner
discussing keychain organization on a beach
driving to a beach to surf and sleeping on the bag instead
waking up to three friends telling surf stories and still in their wetsuits
piling up in a car from Brooklyn and ducking when the cops drive by
telling new friends about my star ring
exchanging piercing stories
sharing 9/11 stories
creating workshops
wearing flip flops with jeans
learning three chords
looking at the pictures taken yesterday on someone else's camera or iPhone
knowing I can do this again tomorrow
ahhhhh...NYC. I've missed you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)