It's times like this I really wish I had a calming, supportive presence in my life who thought that the very childish tendencies I have are actually quite cute and is able and willing to let them pass in quiet amusement until I'm able to get control of myself and pretend to be a grown-up. As that is not the case, I had no ready audience for the explosive temper tantrum that welled up inside of me after I recieved and email from the theatre program. It turns out, instead of the six weeks that they spent rehearsing for Smokey Joe's Cafe, the powers that be have decided on a whopping nine weeks of rehearsal for The Color Purple, starting on the 17th, also known as the second week of rehearsals for Oklahoma! The rehearsal week will most likely be Monday-Friday, which means that, instead of maybe having to drop out of the recital in April, I'll be unable to take class at all. In a nutshell, my hopes for my last undergraduate semester have come crashing down like a comet with dinosaurs in it's sights.
THIS IS SO UNFAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I had actually calmed down. I was thanking God for my grades. I was accepting the fact that I may not be able to do that cockamamie double-major-in-my-last-year thing. I was beginning preparations for my little audition tour. And now this. I just can't win. No matter how bright the flash is in the moment, it's always followed by an abrupt dissipation into darkness. My second semester is suppoed to be a breeze. It's supposed to be my redemption, my picking myself up after a major fall that led to being stuck on my back like an unfortunate cockroach. Being essentially unemployed, I'm supposed to have lots of time to devote to my studies and preparation for my auditions, without the stress of worrying about falling behind. I'm supposed to grow as a dancer through Oklahoma! rehearsals and jazz fusion classes until I'm able to confidently perform at a recital and know that I deserve to be there. I'm supposed to come off of Oklahoma! with another show, serving as one last chance to end my college career with that bang of affirmation I'm finally able to admit to seeking. It's supposed to get better. It's not getting better.
I absolutely cannot double major and graduate in the spring. All of the philosophy classes I would choose from to take are full, and there aren't any CLEP or (to my knowledge) online options that aren't something I've already taken. I took this in stride, too busy at the time appreciating my grades to lament the loss of that adendum to my piece of paper. However, now, it seems like another kick in the pants. I also can't send my AP scores over the phone. Without them, I'm shy one English course, and I simply refuse to take a freshman English class as a senior. Not only am I completely uninclined to spend any of my time matching wits with a bunch of reluctant outside majors who were reared by failing school districts, I strongly believe that I shouldn't have to. On the other side of the coin, I currently have enrolled in only three classes, as I have met all of the other requirements for my one major and minor, and will have to six more credits out of some orifice to be considered a full-time student and qualify for my scholarship. If my woes were purely academic, I might take some time to point out how ridiculous it is that the university, though largely in debt, requires its presidential scholars to take more classes than necessary, thereby spending more of the school's money than necessary, in order to take the classes which are necessary. As it is, that is not my principle concern at the moment.
I absolutely cannot do both Oklahoma! and The Color Purple. Their respective rehearsal schedules are right on top of one another, and the Department is not at all known for being understanding when it comes to other committments, much less other theatrical committments, much less other theatrical committments that involve moi. Ensemble though it is, I've already been cast in Oklahoma!, so by even auditioning for The Color Purple, I open myself up to the possibility of backing out of a committment I've already made and screwing a director of whom I'm very fond out of a cast member...again. I'm in no humor to take an ensemble role in the last major production of my undergraduate career, especially one that will take me out of the best performance training venture available to me at the moment. But...I can't let go of this burning desire to have that moment of affirmation, that time when I know my worth based on my position and can carry that into the real world once I leave the shelter of college. As aware as I am that I should not seek to be justified externally, I want to get to take the stage in Charles Winterwood before I have to take on a professional stage. Not only will it be a boost to my confidence to have been cast in a major role for a reason besides the fact that they didn't really have anyone else (a la Whorehouse), it'll soften some of the skepticism that the lack of professional credits on my resume will inspire in potential employers. I honestly don't think I could take another experience like Wrestling With Angels, and will definitely not sign on for such...but there is still the chance that, this time, I'll get the outcome I've been wanting. I don't need to star/be a principle in The Color Purple, but I want it. I want it real bad. And that can't happen unless I audition. If I auditon, I will probably be cast. The show has a big ensemble, and, even though the director is not at all fond of me, I'm pretty sure the choreographer would be happy to have me on as a workhorse. The problem is, I don't want to be a workhorse. I'm sick of being a workhorse, and I'm sick of having my progress determined by whether the faculty like what they see (no need to acknowledge the hypocrisy of still wanting to be cast as a principle by the department) in me, versus how far I feel I've come. I can't do it. I won't do it. In the event that my cowardice wins over my determination, I'll know that I've set myself up for a miserable nine weeks. In the event that I'm able to follow my heart, I'll have pissed off the faculty one more time. Someone is going to lose in this situation, and if history is any indication, that someone will be me.
This is so stupid. Why why WHY do we have to have nine weeks of rehearsal? Ain't Misbehavin' had six weeks. Smokey Joe's had six weeks. Crowns definitely had six weeks, and waited until January to announce a cast so that the rehearsal process couldn't possibly be any longer. What is it about this show that made them flip the script? It could be, of course, that the fact that this show has an actual plot, not just a bunch of songs strung together, means that it warrants more attention in the eyes of the director. I see this as a definite possibility. On the other hand, I've done other shows (with plots) in the shorter time-frame and, barring the stress of having to learn to skate and the breakdown over being told to shut up, they went just fine. Although The Color Purple is a major undertaking because of its long timespan and large cast, there isn't anything particularly challenging that would make it warrant more time than the standard six-eight weeks. Eight weeks, I would resent but understand. Nine feels like overkill, and a reiteration by the faculty that we should all sit on our asses and wait for the department to pluck us from the abyss, rather than seek opportunities to hone and showcase our skills wherever we can find them. And I've no indication that this longer timespan will mean that the creative team will be any more understanding about conflicts of any kind, including the ones that keep me off of food stamps. Music rehearsals, the most crucial for a musical production, are going to be first, so it's not like I can miss out on the beginning of the rehearsal process and catch up later. As I learned with Xanadu, it's much harder to learn a dance when you don't know the song yet. I don't think they're going to capitalize on the time that they have us, and I can already feel myself being taken for granted. Three and a half years I'm at this school and there isn't one show they put on that makes me want to be a part of it. Now, at the eleventh hour, they put me in this very uncomfortable position. I'm am both completely helpless and completely in control. It's up to me whether I audition (Let's not kid ourselves: I'm totally auditioning) or not. It was my decision to audition for and accept a role in Oklahoma! and it will by my decision to hold onto that role or reject it in favor of the people who are so good at putting me down. I have too many choices to make and not enough is in my hands. It's always "or", never "and." Oh, if life were made of moments.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Now for some specifics
Okay, I really can't articulate my feelings about the whole "do better-what if there is no better" notion that's plaguing my mind right now, so I'll instead take a look at the situation that made me well on that particular problem at this moment. I was at work, at the Writing Center, noodling around, as per final exam time, and I got called into my boss's office. I had already come to terms with all of the badness of the semester, but I was still nervous. Confrontation of any kind unnerves me, and confronting my own failings was not my first choice as a prelude to my last final. Well, I went to her office, and it turns out the only reason for the visit was to let me know that I didn't have a contract waiting for me for the next term. This was not surprising information. I've had at least three clients who thought that getting their work straight was secondary to complaining about how I made them feel in our sessions, and, after each instance, my supervisors made clear that the clients' perspectives were the only ones that mattered. I accepted after the second one that no one wants to work with a bitch, and this bitch was frankly tired of being bitched about. I had not, on the other hand, managed to find alternative part-time employment, which means the hole I started this semester while not getting paid won't get shallow anytime soon. Instead of graduating debt free, I'll be about $20,000 in debt. I will not likely be able to find another job on campus, which means I'll either have to resort to working in the food service industry or need to find a very understanding business off-campus that can deal with my lack of transportation and obnoxious rehearsal schedule. More probably, it means I'll just be essentially unemployed for the semester during which I'll have to travel and print headshots many times in hopes of securing some type of employment. Truth be told, I've been sick of this job since mid-October when I couldn't seem to get all of my reports in and I kept getting obnoxious clients who didn't do what they were supposed to and thought that I would somehow be able to fix it. I got sick of people coming in who couldn't spot basic grammar errors, who didn't follow simple directions, who didn't know how to think critically. Part of me felt sorry for them, but part of me was angry that people like this had been let into my school. I wanted so badly to deal with students who wanted to be there, who came in good and only got better. I never get what I want. I did have some clients whom I enjoyed. Some were at least willing to work. Some showed marked improvement. But they were few and far between, and I didn't have it in me to appreciate the assholes the same way I appreciated the regulars. Neither could I comprehend how my supervisors were so concerned with whether these people were having a good experience and gave not a thought to how miserable I was, to how little the clients contributed to making one session or another a positive one. It wasn't working on either side. It only made sense that I would be let go. Still, I've been working here for over a year. I'm comfortable here. I do have good days that I'll never be able to have again and I really like my colleagues. Tutoring is technically my first real job. Getting it meant establishing that I'm employable. Losing it means contesting that establishment. Could I have been nicer? I could have smiled more, but it would not have been genuine. When I like a client, I warm to him even if I'm having a bad day, and vice versa if a client is really pissing me off. I wanted to make an impact, to bring improvement to the writers who come here. I realized at some point that that isn't really in my power. Even when I genuinely was in a client's corner, I'd often see him do better with another tutor. At the same time, there were people who I felt did value me for what I had to offer. It saddens me that my work with them doesn't count. I wish I could have been better, but I really can't say what would have made that happen. The thing that really bothers me, though, is that they took the time to let me know they don't want me anymore, not that they needed to tell me. I knew my contract ended at the end of the term and I knew I hadn't been sent to sign another one. I wasn't planing on being here next semester, and I could tell I wouldn't be missed. I don't know why it is that they chose to give me what amounts to a referendum on my performance this past semester. I had come to terms with that and decided to put it behind me when they decided to put it in my face. My boss went so far as to ask me if I had any questions, as if anything they told me at this point would make a difference. It was like she was looking for an opportunity to tell me how much I suck. She didn't need to tell me. I know. And now that's all I can think about.
#dobetter
In our last golden shower of the semester, one student rose her hand and said that what she was getting from this talk is that w need to do better. I've had a lot of that this semester. Do better on Wrestling With Angels. Do better in events. Do better at the Writing Center. Do better in class. I would get yet another horrible grade from my New Testament test and think o myself, Next time I'm going to know this material backwards and forwards an next time I'm going to be able to answer these questions like a musical theatre category on Jeopardy! Then the next test would roll around and, once again, I'd be a deer in headlights, having no idea what I was being asked or when I was supposed to learn those things. I would show up to rehearsal determined to bring out something new, something worthwhile, this time around, and be stuck in the same head space as weeks before. In every aspect of my life this past three months, I've needed to do well and done poorly. I've set out to succeed and failed. Now here I am, just out of my final final on my second-to-last day of work, and I'm consumed by how little I've accomplished in this time. I was very angry when I found out that my set design professor had decided that our work was so worthless that we should all have to start over, and resolved after he tore up my third box that I would waste time attempting to gt it right, only when I had witnesses to my effort. By final presentation time, I wanted nothing but for it to be over so that I could put it behind me and get on with my life. Nonetheless, I couldn't help but dwell on the disappointment in myself I felt when I sat down after my presentation. Despite my general reluctance to try at something where there was no chance of succeeding, I genuinely want to do well in things that I do, even things I don't particularly want to do. Hence, my attempts to deal with ornery WRC clients and relate to my stupid spoiled classmates in WWA. I cannot look back at this time with a mile. Neither do my prospects appear any better looking forward. I couldn't manage a leading role in a community production, I wont have a steady job, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm expected to do with myself academically. In the prolific words of Eugene O'Neil, the pat is the present, and the future. I really shouldn't be so floored that this semester was such a monumental failure. I've been failing monumentally at everything all my life. Would it really have made a difference if I'd been able to go to Atlanta and audition for BOM when there were so many actual professionals headed there? Probably not. A ride to the audition wouldn't have made me a better actress or singer, or made me more likable. Receiving a paycheck those two months my contract was mysteriously missing wouldn't have made me any less open with those annoying clients. Maybe I can't do better. Maybe this is as good as it gets.
Friday, December 7, 2012
"Featured" Dancer
Once again, I thought it was my turn. I really thought I was going to get a chance to play a part and get it right, to be a character and go on a journey with her and have what I put into her count for something. Once again, I was wrong. It's not that I've never played a part before. I got lucky in Millie at Fabrefaction. I was able to finally get a lead at DSA in Sweeney Todd. I had my moment in Whorehouse as Jewel. I should be grateful for those, I know. And if I were just now recieving those roles, I would be. But, as it stands, I need a major role to feel like I'm doing something. I need it to happen now so that I can hope for something to happen in the future. It's not happening.
I suppose I could count my part in Wrestling With Angels as a lead, but, considering the lack of character development and the fact that I act as furniture dressing for the bulk of the show, and the hell I caught for not doing it right pretty much pushes that whole experience into a black hole as far as I'm concerned. The last time I was disappointed by the casting of a show at QMT with a role I really wanted to play, I was willing to accept that the cast had a very specific balance to obtain, and there is no real ensemble for me to try to fit into. As disappointed as I was was, I was able to get past resenting the decision. Not so this time around. I really feel in my hear and soul that I could have brought justice to Ado Annie and I hate that I haven't been given the chance. Now there is an ensemble for them to stick me, so while some other person gets to experience all of the magic that happens with developing my part, I get to look like a jackass trying to keep up with real dancers.
I didn't know how badly I wanted the part until I knew I couldn't have it, and I didn't know whether to be more hurt or indignant that I was, instead, cheerfully asked to be a featured dancer in the show. I have to admit, I was flattered when I was asked to stick around and learn the combination for the dream sequence at callbacks. I'm not a dancer, and I know I'll never be a dancer, but I do hope to continue to grow in my dancing, so it was nice that m growth seemed to be recognized. However, the fact is, I'll never be cast as a dancer in any professional setting, so when a director sees that on my resume, he'll rightly assume that there weren't many real dancers to choose from and I hadn't been able to prove that I could be effective as a real character. Furthermore, I very much dowbt that I'll actually be featured in anyway. I was cast in Cabaret to be a featured singer and I did nothing of import. I could have gotten hit by a bus on the way to the theatre right before the show and no one would have noticed. What then, does being a featured dancer mean, but that I'll be scrambling in the back a beat behind everyone else? Of course, it might not end up like that. I might turn out to be a brilliant performer in the dancer. That may be the thing I get out of this show. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted lines and two love interests. I wanted an endearing, but self-depricating song about my fondness for the opposite sex. I wanted to have a sweet, affectionate relationship with my father figure. I want what Ivy wants. I want a real part. I got a nobody role. Again. I want to be somebody.
I suppose I could count my part in Wrestling With Angels as a lead, but, considering the lack of character development and the fact that I act as furniture dressing for the bulk of the show, and the hell I caught for not doing it right pretty much pushes that whole experience into a black hole as far as I'm concerned. The last time I was disappointed by the casting of a show at QMT with a role I really wanted to play, I was willing to accept that the cast had a very specific balance to obtain, and there is no real ensemble for me to try to fit into. As disappointed as I was was, I was able to get past resenting the decision. Not so this time around. I really feel in my hear and soul that I could have brought justice to Ado Annie and I hate that I haven't been given the chance. Now there is an ensemble for them to stick me, so while some other person gets to experience all of the magic that happens with developing my part, I get to look like a jackass trying to keep up with real dancers.
I didn't know how badly I wanted the part until I knew I couldn't have it, and I didn't know whether to be more hurt or indignant that I was, instead, cheerfully asked to be a featured dancer in the show. I have to admit, I was flattered when I was asked to stick around and learn the combination for the dream sequence at callbacks. I'm not a dancer, and I know I'll never be a dancer, but I do hope to continue to grow in my dancing, so it was nice that m growth seemed to be recognized. However, the fact is, I'll never be cast as a dancer in any professional setting, so when a director sees that on my resume, he'll rightly assume that there weren't many real dancers to choose from and I hadn't been able to prove that I could be effective as a real character. Furthermore, I very much dowbt that I'll actually be featured in anyway. I was cast in Cabaret to be a featured singer and I did nothing of import. I could have gotten hit by a bus on the way to the theatre right before the show and no one would have noticed. What then, does being a featured dancer mean, but that I'll be scrambling in the back a beat behind everyone else? Of course, it might not end up like that. I might turn out to be a brilliant performer in the dancer. That may be the thing I get out of this show. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted lines and two love interests. I wanted an endearing, but self-depricating song about my fondness for the opposite sex. I wanted to have a sweet, affectionate relationship with my father figure. I want what Ivy wants. I want a real part. I got a nobody role. Again. I want to be somebody.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Our Monthly Golden Shower
The semester is over and, even though I'm generally disappointed with the way things have gone, I felt really good about things today. Wrestling With Angels is over, I no longer have that blasted New Testament paper eating my soul, made it to my first class on time and feel fairly confident I'll be able to get through my test and final, I'm exempt from two finals and will be ready for the rest of them, I had a great audition last night about which I feel quite confident, and tonight is the first free weeknight I've had outside of Thanksgiving. Compared to how I felt, say, Friday morning, everything was coming up roses for me this afternoon. Then I went to the department meeting.
Typically, the majors and minors meet with the faculty on the first Tuesday of every month, supposedly to keep us up to date on happenings in the theatre department and guide us in any ways we need it. However, every meeting I go to somehow results in a tongue-lashing from some or all of the faculty on what a bang-up job we students are not doing. The exception in this meeting was that there was no discussion or guidance leading into the tongue-lashing. On the contrary, they (the faculty) called this meeting particularly to piss on us (the students).
We didn't get agendas, like we usually do. We didn't have our supervisors take attendance as we settled into our seats or pass around a sign-in sheet. Instead, our warden stood before us and proceeded to draw out how pleased our patrons and audience members were with the last performance (Wrestling With Angels). She related how people from other departments extol the unity among us theatre majors and the wonderful results that we get when we put on a show. Dr. Matthews has a great talent for making people feel like shit. Even as she recounted all these observations she'd gotten that would be taken as compliments from anyone else, I could hear the edge of disapproval in her voice, see the cut of reproach in her eyes. I knew better than to dwell on the positivity because of what was coming next. I was not surprised, then, when she switched the subject from the results to the process. When speaking of this process, she brought up our most recent production.
Having come off of the most excruciating theatrical process I can remember, at the end of the most disheartening semester I can remember, I wasn't feeling particularly eager to revisit it. On the contrary, I looked forward to pushing this show as far behind me as humanly possible. Instead, I had my disapproving dean inviting my disheartening director to further speak on what a collective disappointment we are as a department. I sat and listened as, after two months of pushing to get this part right, to follow his instruction, to give him what he wanted, he proceeded to bitch and moan about how irresponsible we are, how uncommitted we are, and how much that hurts him. Never mind how much it hurts me to have him telling me how much I sucked all the time that I was putting my all into this show. Never mind how much it hurt for him to tell me I was wrong about everything that I brought to the table. Ironically (or hypocritically), he opened his bitchfest with the insistence that this wasn't about him.
He whined about his disappointment and his sadness and his loss, then his theatre wife threw in her two cents about what horrible students we are, how little we take this work seriously, and how we've killed her spirit. Then the tag-team flogging continued to my least favorite professor, whom I can't remember feeling anything but contempt for, decided to throw his two Confederate cents into the bucket. This designer, who teaches two classes to majors, neither of which have anything to do with performance, felt it incumbent upon himself to ask us collectively what our aversion to the process is. To the person for whom the process is so important, this comment is insulting and off-base. And frankly, it pisses me off that he thinks he's so psychic that he can speak for the thoughts of an entire body of students. I have nothing respectful to say in response to that, sense I'm not one of the people whose minds he's able to read, so I say nothing. The trouble with this is, the rest of the room also says nothing in response to his assholish question.
After the faculty demanded some kind of response, I figured that I was at least entitled to throw in my two cents concerning the fact that he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. I spoke up for myself, about how my homework gets thrown out the window, about how it feels to be told that there's no value in any of the effort I've made, that I didn't get anything right, that the work needs to begin when the work has been happening for weeks, and the crux of the response was "Deal with it." Then the asshole who initially asked the bullshit question that wasn't worthy of an answer came back with a counter-question of, "How do students deal with having that response? Because if students pout..." This self-important son of a bitch nearly had a shoe thrown at him. He had no right to speak on me or anyone else whose mind he can't read because he's no more psychic than I am. In the end, the resolution became that "We're not talking about that right now." So people who don't have their hit together, who don't try, who don't do their work, who don't care enough to fully invest, get a meeting dedicated to them, but the people who have their shit together, who have genuine concerns about having their work shit all over and thrown out, don't get two seconds out of that meeting. I never understand what these people want from me.
After the initial fuck you storm, we got the threats of not being cast in The Color Purple, the "don't be concerned about who likes you" speech that pretends to have our best interest at heart, and a nice little referendum on our not liking favoritism that rubbed our noses in the fact that they shoved their heads up the same girl's ass for four years. When it over, I felt nothing of contempt. I don't trust these people to look out for me because all they do is put me down. I'd much rather do a community show than make these pissers my priority.
Typically, the majors and minors meet with the faculty on the first Tuesday of every month, supposedly to keep us up to date on happenings in the theatre department and guide us in any ways we need it. However, every meeting I go to somehow results in a tongue-lashing from some or all of the faculty on what a bang-up job we students are not doing. The exception in this meeting was that there was no discussion or guidance leading into the tongue-lashing. On the contrary, they (the faculty) called this meeting particularly to piss on us (the students).
We didn't get agendas, like we usually do. We didn't have our supervisors take attendance as we settled into our seats or pass around a sign-in sheet. Instead, our warden stood before us and proceeded to draw out how pleased our patrons and audience members were with the last performance (Wrestling With Angels). She related how people from other departments extol the unity among us theatre majors and the wonderful results that we get when we put on a show. Dr. Matthews has a great talent for making people feel like shit. Even as she recounted all these observations she'd gotten that would be taken as compliments from anyone else, I could hear the edge of disapproval in her voice, see the cut of reproach in her eyes. I knew better than to dwell on the positivity because of what was coming next. I was not surprised, then, when she switched the subject from the results to the process. When speaking of this process, she brought up our most recent production.
Having come off of the most excruciating theatrical process I can remember, at the end of the most disheartening semester I can remember, I wasn't feeling particularly eager to revisit it. On the contrary, I looked forward to pushing this show as far behind me as humanly possible. Instead, I had my disapproving dean inviting my disheartening director to further speak on what a collective disappointment we are as a department. I sat and listened as, after two months of pushing to get this part right, to follow his instruction, to give him what he wanted, he proceeded to bitch and moan about how irresponsible we are, how uncommitted we are, and how much that hurts him. Never mind how much it hurts me to have him telling me how much I sucked all the time that I was putting my all into this show. Never mind how much it hurt for him to tell me I was wrong about everything that I brought to the table. Ironically (or hypocritically), he opened his bitchfest with the insistence that this wasn't about him.
He whined about his disappointment and his sadness and his loss, then his theatre wife threw in her two cents about what horrible students we are, how little we take this work seriously, and how we've killed her spirit. Then the tag-team flogging continued to my least favorite professor, whom I can't remember feeling anything but contempt for, decided to throw his two Confederate cents into the bucket. This designer, who teaches two classes to majors, neither of which have anything to do with performance, felt it incumbent upon himself to ask us collectively what our aversion to the process is. To the person for whom the process is so important, this comment is insulting and off-base. And frankly, it pisses me off that he thinks he's so psychic that he can speak for the thoughts of an entire body of students. I have nothing respectful to say in response to that, sense I'm not one of the people whose minds he's able to read, so I say nothing. The trouble with this is, the rest of the room also says nothing in response to his assholish question.
After the faculty demanded some kind of response, I figured that I was at least entitled to throw in my two cents concerning the fact that he didn't know what the fuck he was talking about. I spoke up for myself, about how my homework gets thrown out the window, about how it feels to be told that there's no value in any of the effort I've made, that I didn't get anything right, that the work needs to begin when the work has been happening for weeks, and the crux of the response was "Deal with it." Then the asshole who initially asked the bullshit question that wasn't worthy of an answer came back with a counter-question of, "How do students deal with having that response? Because if students pout..." This self-important son of a bitch nearly had a shoe thrown at him. He had no right to speak on me or anyone else whose mind he can't read because he's no more psychic than I am. In the end, the resolution became that "We're not talking about that right now." So people who don't have their hit together, who don't try, who don't do their work, who don't care enough to fully invest, get a meeting dedicated to them, but the people who have their shit together, who have genuine concerns about having their work shit all over and thrown out, don't get two seconds out of that meeting. I never understand what these people want from me.
After the initial fuck you storm, we got the threats of not being cast in The Color Purple, the "don't be concerned about who likes you" speech that pretends to have our best interest at heart, and a nice little referendum on our not liking favoritism that rubbed our noses in the fact that they shoved their heads up the same girl's ass for four years. When it over, I felt nothing of contempt. I don't trust these people to look out for me because all they do is put me down. I'd much rather do a community show than make these pissers my priority.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
And here we are.
So...it's November. It's the week before Thanksgiving, a day that I'll probably spend alone in my unit, reluctantly counting off the things for which I would be thankful if I wasn't alone on Thanksgiving. It's been one of those semesters ever since October, ever since Wrestling With Angels, ever since it was no longer "just the beginnig". I sick of it now and I didn't post what was happening or what I was feeling at the time, so I wonder if there's any point to it. It accounting for the last two months just another foolish attempt to reconcile another failure? Probably. But at least it'll give me something to do over the holiday.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Getting Through the Dark Days
It's Tuesday evening, my third Tuesday in a row of not having rehearsal or a show to get to, the second Tuesday in my second week of having no show affiliation. I don't have any obligation for tonight beyond seeing a thirty-minute show to support my fellow thespians, and I have a decent chunk of work to do when I get home. I have a project to finish, a monologue to learn, a room to clean, and plenty of content to study, and yet I anticipate standing in the middle of my room when I get home wondering what to do with myself. As glad as I was for the break, it just doesn't seem natural to not have my time between seven and ten at night designated for me by an obligation to some show or some deadline. That's the thing that drives me. It's so weird not to have rehearsal, not to even have a goal for what to accomplish by next rehearsal. Thinking of my life in terms of days and weeks has got me constantly pushing deadlines back, losing the urgency that I have. I've only got five more days without a show, and I wonder what I'll accomplish with them.
When I have a show, I come home tired or wired, to fatigued to do anything or too caught up in what I've come from to think about anything else. When I don't have a show, I feel this obligation to do something major with those three hours which ends up translating into obsessing over Dance Moms and looking determinedly at the next day, sure that it's going to be different. Usually, if I go to sleep before finishing my homework, or don't get around to writing something, I assuage my disappointment with whatever I accomplished in rehearsal. If nothing else, I've spent some time on what's really important, what I can't live without no matter what else is going on. I miss being a part of something. I can't wait until I have rehearsal. I hope I'm able to accomplish more when I get to it.
When I have a show, I come home tired or wired, to fatigued to do anything or too caught up in what I've come from to think about anything else. When I don't have a show, I feel this obligation to do something major with those three hours which ends up translating into obsessing over Dance Moms and looking determinedly at the next day, sure that it's going to be different. Usually, if I go to sleep before finishing my homework, or don't get around to writing something, I assuage my disappointment with whatever I accomplished in rehearsal. If nothing else, I've spent some time on what's really important, what I can't live without no matter what else is going on. I miss being a part of something. I can't wait until I have rehearsal. I hope I'm able to accomplish more when I get to it.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Shoulda, Coulda, Wouldas
I'm in the dark for a couple of weeks and, while basking in the glory of having complete control over what I do between seven and ten on weekday evenings, I do understand that there are plenty of other things that I could be doing with that time. So it was that, last night, I was all set to be a productive bunny after work. I lost out on my ride to dance class and there was no way I was braving the torrential rain to take two buses in the middle of the night for the later class, so I settled in to my table at the writing center to do other productive things. So long as I was there, it wasn't bad. The trouble started when I left for home.
I'd been back and forth over whether I should go to Foster-Tanner and practice or go straight home. Alack, the seduction of home time proved too alluring, and I ended up packing it in, knowing that there are plenty of productive things that I can do a casa. Here are the things that I could have done while I was at home:
clean
practice
exercise
braid my hair
write
do homework
study
read
work on my audition package
work on my plan of attack for auditions
pick up correspondence
plan for the rest of the week
make meals
work on applications
build my language skills
Here is what I actually did:
make chicken
watch the Kardashians
play on my phone
...yeah. No bueno. I partially justified my lack of productivity to myself with the fact that I didn't have to go to my first two classes in the morning, so I would have plenty of time to be productive, and I was well within my rights to rest a bit. Fast forward to this morning. It's after nine thirty, the time that my second class starts, and I'm just getting up. I need to shower, dress, and eat before I get out of the house, not to mention get some food to campus so that I don't go hungry the rest of the week. I emd up being ready in plenty of time to catch the bus, but no time to do anything else. My two free classes are moot.
What have we learned, children? Well, for one thing, I learned that none of my alarms were set properly, a thing I need to watch out for. For another, I can't be trusted to accomplish things that aren't specifically on my agenda. I'm going to have to operate on a much tighter leash from this point forward. For now, I'm in time out.
I'd been back and forth over whether I should go to Foster-Tanner and practice or go straight home. Alack, the seduction of home time proved too alluring, and I ended up packing it in, knowing that there are plenty of productive things that I can do a casa. Here are the things that I could have done while I was at home:
clean
practice
exercise
braid my hair
write
do homework
study
read
work on my audition package
work on my plan of attack for auditions
pick up correspondence
plan for the rest of the week
make meals
work on applications
build my language skills
Here is what I actually did:
make chicken
watch the Kardashians
play on my phone
...yeah. No bueno. I partially justified my lack of productivity to myself with the fact that I didn't have to go to my first two classes in the morning, so I would have plenty of time to be productive, and I was well within my rights to rest a bit. Fast forward to this morning. It's after nine thirty, the time that my second class starts, and I'm just getting up. I need to shower, dress, and eat before I get out of the house, not to mention get some food to campus so that I don't go hungry the rest of the week. I emd up being ready in plenty of time to catch the bus, but no time to do anything else. My two free classes are moot.
What have we learned, children? Well, for one thing, I learned that none of my alarms were set properly, a thing I need to watch out for. For another, I can't be trusted to accomplish things that aren't specifically on my agenda. I'm going to have to operate on a much tighter leash from this point forward. For now, I'm in time out.
Friday, September 7, 2012
On the Agenda
Labor Day is over, which means I'm officially in my fall semester. No more schedule changes, no more getting my feet wet, and, for the most part, no more wondering what the semester is going to look like for me. Having that in mind, these are the things I know I need to do in the month of September:
1) Put together an audition package for FTC/SETC
2) Apply for FTC
3) Map out the rest of my auditions for the school year
4) Finish a book
5) Solidify my circadean clock
6) Sell five season subscriptions
7) Ensure that I'm on track for Spring graduation
It occurs to me that I should probably do this for the whole year. I can hardly hold myself accountable for goals I haven't solidly set. So what would I like to accomplish in the course of my senior year? What do I hope to walk away with?
1) A job. The most frightening thing about being a senior is the possibility that I won't have the relative stability that college life has afforded me thus far. I understand, especially with my chosen profession, that things may not always be completely consistent, but I want to at least have a solid type of employement that I can count on for the year following my graduation. Of course, I would prefer for that job to be in theatre, but I'm flexible if I can see myself getting a job where I can make money and save.
2) A place to live. No way in hell am I renewing my lease at College Club, even if I end up staying in Tallahassee. Unless I'm living rent free under my mother's roof, I need a place of my own.
3) A solid book. This includes five monologues and ten songs that I can present at any audition. Senior project should help me with that, but that will only be as much as I need for the showcase. I also need to have good headshots (in color...) that I can ue in professional auditions.
4) A stronger skill set. I'm not taking voice. I'll hopefully be taking dance, but I'm not taking an acting class right now. Hopefully, I will have the chance to work on that in some capacity. I can already feel myself getting rusty.
5) A plan. At present, I have no idea where I'll be a year from now. It's no longer dictated by my school schedule. I need to be in a position to develop at least a two-year plan for after college to keep from floating.
1) Put together an audition package for FTC/SETC
2) Apply for FTC
3) Map out the rest of my auditions for the school year
4) Finish a book
5) Solidify my circadean clock
6) Sell five season subscriptions
7) Ensure that I'm on track for Spring graduation
It occurs to me that I should probably do this for the whole year. I can hardly hold myself accountable for goals I haven't solidly set. So what would I like to accomplish in the course of my senior year? What do I hope to walk away with?
1) A job. The most frightening thing about being a senior is the possibility that I won't have the relative stability that college life has afforded me thus far. I understand, especially with my chosen profession, that things may not always be completely consistent, but I want to at least have a solid type of employement that I can count on for the year following my graduation. Of course, I would prefer for that job to be in theatre, but I'm flexible if I can see myself getting a job where I can make money and save.
2) A place to live. No way in hell am I renewing my lease at College Club, even if I end up staying in Tallahassee. Unless I'm living rent free under my mother's roof, I need a place of my own.
3) A solid book. This includes five monologues and ten songs that I can present at any audition. Senior project should help me with that, but that will only be as much as I need for the showcase. I also need to have good headshots (in color...) that I can ue in professional auditions.
4) A stronger skill set. I'm not taking voice. I'll hopefully be taking dance, but I'm not taking an acting class right now. Hopefully, I will have the chance to work on that in some capacity. I can already feel myself getting rusty.
5) A plan. At present, I have no idea where I'll be a year from now. It's no longer dictated by my school schedule. I need to be in a position to develop at least a two-year plan for after college to keep from floating.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
So...you don't really need this class
Of all the thingsthat irritate me about today, the credit situation is by far the most frustrating. The fact the my screw-up with work was my fault and easily remedied makes it easy to get past, but I find myself rather insulted that, once again, the system at FAMU doesn't want to let me do more than what they think I should do.
I am trying to double major in theatre and philosophy. Because I didn't realize it was feasible until this summer, I'm finding it necessary now to cram in all of the classes I need for my philosophy credits. I don't mind taking a bunch of classes in philosophy and religion. On the contrary, I' rather excited about it. The problem with it, and the thing that kept me from taking philosophy classes for two semesters, is that they contribute to the cap in my alloted amount of credit hours. The established maximum a student can take in a semester is 18 credit hours. That's six over the 12 hour minimum required to be considered a full-time student, and not a problem for most of us. As a scholarship recipient, I have my classes covered up to those 18 hours, after which I'm on my own. Additionally, there is a surcharge in place for anyone who graduates with more than 120% of the credit hours needed to graduate, which I consider to be a punitive education tax. I doubt I'll go that far, but the 18 hours cap has presented a problem to me more than once.
I currently have 17 credit hours, a consequence of my not getting my language classes out of the way earlier and deciding belatedly to ad philosophy to my piece of paper. I can ponder the wisdom of that decision later. My schedule is pretty packed, but what isn't there right now, is a vocal class. I've been enrolled in voice lessons every semester since coming to FAMU as it's my only way to maintain some kind of consistent vocal trainig level in light of my schedule. I can never join a choir because it conflicts with my shows and my jobs and I had previously considered music my minor, of which I would need 18 credits by graduation to count. Unfortunately, my voice class counts as two credits, which would put me over the 18-credit limit. I was all set to drop my French class and lab, which would take me down four credits, but I actually feel like I'm in good classes this year, and I don't have any guarantee that the situation will be as god next semester. I settled on dropping my theatre lab instead.
Theatre lab is both useful and benign. I consider it important for any theatre practitioner to have a baic understanding of what goes on behind the scenes, and it's especially useful in a B.A. program where students tend to have varying focuses. However, after my semester of electrics, I didn't know how to bench focus a light. After a semester of set and props, I didn't really know how to build anything (though I did learn how to handle that power tool whose name I've forgotten). After a semester of management, I wasn't any more capable of putting on a production. This is probably part of the reason the class only counts for one credit msot of the time. However, my suspicion is that the other reason they make the class only count for one credit is to ensure that they have a labor source available to work backstage for their shows. For that reason, I've gotten past the point where I take lab seriously. For that reason, I consider lab the most sensible class to drop.
I have no problem missing a term of lab. In truth, no one would probably miss me if I wasn't there. But to graduate, I need to have eight credit hours. A friend of mine suggested I simply take the class for two credits. I knew it sounded too easy, but I went ahead and inquired about it. The answer was hardly satisfactory. At first, my professor seemed genuinely bent on finding a way that I can get two credit for the class. Then, when she understood why I'm taking so many credit hours, her sincerity turned to scepticism. She concluded that I "don't really need that class," that I was "just asking for something extra" because I wanted to. Her final judgement was that, while I can still try to get an override to take the class and end up over the 18-hour credit limit, I would not be able to just swap out one class for another and make up the difference later. She explained that, because I don't really need the class to graduate, because I'm not required to take it, there would be no provision for me.
Her conclusion essentially rested on the idea that FAMU has lain out for me exactly what I need to know in order to recieve a degree that deems my time at this school, and, indirectly, my person as a product of my time at the school, valuable. No credence is given to the idea that I might want to retain a minor in addition to my two majors, nor does anyone consider that the information conveyed in the classes set for me may not be enough. I'm not just here to get a piece of paper. I'm also here to acquire a strong skill set that will make me employable, and singing is a major part of that. Of the eight productions I've been in since being enrolled at FAM, seven have been musicals. Lessons give me a chance to build my repertoire, get feedback on my choices, and perform for an audience. I lose that when I'm pushed out over the number of credit hours. My professor intoned that I don't "need" the class, implying that the class does not hold any particular value for me. In truth, nothing could be farther from the truth.
This isn't the first time I've taken a class outside of my base curriculum that's been questioned. My advisor wondered at my decision to take Mock Trial during my sophomore year, back when I still had aspirations of going to law school and wasn't enrolled in any pre-law or poli-sci classes. I often get raised eyebrows when I introduce myself in a philosophy class and mention theatre as my major. There seems to be this idea among us that no one should go beyond what's been handed to him, that students shouldn't take initiative, that our choices can't be trusted. Who is she to tell me what I need? Why isn't my ambition to do more than just what's required of me being stonewalled instead of being supported? Not only is it frustrating, it's insulting. I have a degree of loyalty to FAMU because, if I'm a student here, there are bound to be other students like me who are not just the things that people know no better spew in newsrooms and on webpages. But I'll be glad when I'm done having my efforts undermined.
I am trying to double major in theatre and philosophy. Because I didn't realize it was feasible until this summer, I'm finding it necessary now to cram in all of the classes I need for my philosophy credits. I don't mind taking a bunch of classes in philosophy and religion. On the contrary, I' rather excited about it. The problem with it, and the thing that kept me from taking philosophy classes for two semesters, is that they contribute to the cap in my alloted amount of credit hours. The established maximum a student can take in a semester is 18 credit hours. That's six over the 12 hour minimum required to be considered a full-time student, and not a problem for most of us. As a scholarship recipient, I have my classes covered up to those 18 hours, after which I'm on my own. Additionally, there is a surcharge in place for anyone who graduates with more than 120% of the credit hours needed to graduate, which I consider to be a punitive education tax. I doubt I'll go that far, but the 18 hours cap has presented a problem to me more than once.
I currently have 17 credit hours, a consequence of my not getting my language classes out of the way earlier and deciding belatedly to ad philosophy to my piece of paper. I can ponder the wisdom of that decision later. My schedule is pretty packed, but what isn't there right now, is a vocal class. I've been enrolled in voice lessons every semester since coming to FAMU as it's my only way to maintain some kind of consistent vocal trainig level in light of my schedule. I can never join a choir because it conflicts with my shows and my jobs and I had previously considered music my minor, of which I would need 18 credits by graduation to count. Unfortunately, my voice class counts as two credits, which would put me over the 18-credit limit. I was all set to drop my French class and lab, which would take me down four credits, but I actually feel like I'm in good classes this year, and I don't have any guarantee that the situation will be as god next semester. I settled on dropping my theatre lab instead.
Theatre lab is both useful and benign. I consider it important for any theatre practitioner to have a baic understanding of what goes on behind the scenes, and it's especially useful in a B.A. program where students tend to have varying focuses. However, after my semester of electrics, I didn't know how to bench focus a light. After a semester of set and props, I didn't really know how to build anything (though I did learn how to handle that power tool whose name I've forgotten). After a semester of management, I wasn't any more capable of putting on a production. This is probably part of the reason the class only counts for one credit msot of the time. However, my suspicion is that the other reason they make the class only count for one credit is to ensure that they have a labor source available to work backstage for their shows. For that reason, I've gotten past the point where I take lab seriously. For that reason, I consider lab the most sensible class to drop.
I have no problem missing a term of lab. In truth, no one would probably miss me if I wasn't there. But to graduate, I need to have eight credit hours. A friend of mine suggested I simply take the class for two credits. I knew it sounded too easy, but I went ahead and inquired about it. The answer was hardly satisfactory. At first, my professor seemed genuinely bent on finding a way that I can get two credit for the class. Then, when she understood why I'm taking so many credit hours, her sincerity turned to scepticism. She concluded that I "don't really need that class," that I was "just asking for something extra" because I wanted to. Her final judgement was that, while I can still try to get an override to take the class and end up over the 18-hour credit limit, I would not be able to just swap out one class for another and make up the difference later. She explained that, because I don't really need the class to graduate, because I'm not required to take it, there would be no provision for me.
Her conclusion essentially rested on the idea that FAMU has lain out for me exactly what I need to know in order to recieve a degree that deems my time at this school, and, indirectly, my person as a product of my time at the school, valuable. No credence is given to the idea that I might want to retain a minor in addition to my two majors, nor does anyone consider that the information conveyed in the classes set for me may not be enough. I'm not just here to get a piece of paper. I'm also here to acquire a strong skill set that will make me employable, and singing is a major part of that. Of the eight productions I've been in since being enrolled at FAM, seven have been musicals. Lessons give me a chance to build my repertoire, get feedback on my choices, and perform for an audience. I lose that when I'm pushed out over the number of credit hours. My professor intoned that I don't "need" the class, implying that the class does not hold any particular value for me. In truth, nothing could be farther from the truth.
This isn't the first time I've taken a class outside of my base curriculum that's been questioned. My advisor wondered at my decision to take Mock Trial during my sophomore year, back when I still had aspirations of going to law school and wasn't enrolled in any pre-law or poli-sci classes. I often get raised eyebrows when I introduce myself in a philosophy class and mention theatre as my major. There seems to be this idea among us that no one should go beyond what's been handed to him, that students shouldn't take initiative, that our choices can't be trusted. Who is she to tell me what I need? Why isn't my ambition to do more than just what's required of me being stonewalled instead of being supported? Not only is it frustrating, it's insulting. I have a degree of loyalty to FAMU because, if I'm a student here, there are bound to be other students like me who are not just the things that people know no better spew in newsrooms and on webpages. But I'll be glad when I'm done having my efforts undermined.
Second Day...and the failure begins
To begin on a postive note, I will say that my first day went off pretty smoothly. I got up around the time that I planned to and got some exercise in, I made it through my classes without a hitch, and I had a good rehearsal followed by a nice night in my room which I spent preparing for bed. My room could've used a little straightening, but I figured it was nothing a quick trip home after morning classes couldn't fix. I am very amused by my critical inquiry professor and actually kind of looking forward to improving in French. I considered myself off to a rather good start. Then the day changed.
While I managed to shower before bed and have my bag ready to take out, I wasn't very meticulous in picking out my clothes, so I ended up on campus enduring Isaac's sweat in an annoyingly warm top that I had mistaken for billowy and regretting that I had opted to bring my hoodie in anticipation of cold classrooms. It turns out that my semester will involve a fair bit of walking as my schedule is spread out among four buildings, and it's quite awkward to have to navigate strange territory while keeping up with a hoodie you'd like to chuck and an umbrella that you're sure you'll be needing any minute. I have yet to find use for my umbrella today. I ended up being almost twenty minutes late to my third class because I had gone to the wrong classroom and I could neither log on to the system nor call a friend to direct me. After a rather tedious class, I reassured myself that at least I had a few hours to myself and could have a leisurely lunch befroe I got my credit situation worked out in a jiffy. Not so. My lunch was pretty nice, but I was about halfway through my chicken when I found out that my contract at work officially started yesterday, not next Monday as I'd been telling myself. So basically, I just didn't show up for work one day with no excuse. This is especially embarrassing, considering I saw my supervisor yesterday and passed her with a greeting and a smile as if I had my life together. How wrong I was. Now, instead of straigntening my room with the assurance that my credit situation has been remedied, I'm sitting at work, seething over the fact that I'll have to either go without a voice class, or pay and extra six hundred bucks to do what I consider to be important for my training as a performer. Le sigh. How quickly things changed.
Now that my work schedule is rather set, I have to get reaquainted with the idea that I won't be home again until late evening at the earliest, late night television time under many circustances. I have to have two meals on campus and have my printing done ahead of time. I won't have a chance to change clothes on a hot day or take a nap between classes or catch most of my professors in their office hourse. I essentially won't have down time before Friday. I knew it would be something like this. It's jsust disheartening to jump into it before I realized I had to. Now I'm very close to freaking out. I have 45 minutes before lab. That would be enough time to do my French if I wasn't blogging, but nothing else of importance. I am supposed to be at work immediately after scene design. There's a good chance I'll be late for an appointment or two. I have no idea if I'll even be able to swing voice lessons. It's only the second day and I've gone through several highs and lows. What will tomorrow bring, I wonder?
While I managed to shower before bed and have my bag ready to take out, I wasn't very meticulous in picking out my clothes, so I ended up on campus enduring Isaac's sweat in an annoyingly warm top that I had mistaken for billowy and regretting that I had opted to bring my hoodie in anticipation of cold classrooms. It turns out that my semester will involve a fair bit of walking as my schedule is spread out among four buildings, and it's quite awkward to have to navigate strange territory while keeping up with a hoodie you'd like to chuck and an umbrella that you're sure you'll be needing any minute. I have yet to find use for my umbrella today. I ended up being almost twenty minutes late to my third class because I had gone to the wrong classroom and I could neither log on to the system nor call a friend to direct me. After a rather tedious class, I reassured myself that at least I had a few hours to myself and could have a leisurely lunch befroe I got my credit situation worked out in a jiffy. Not so. My lunch was pretty nice, but I was about halfway through my chicken when I found out that my contract at work officially started yesterday, not next Monday as I'd been telling myself. So basically, I just didn't show up for work one day with no excuse. This is especially embarrassing, considering I saw my supervisor yesterday and passed her with a greeting and a smile as if I had my life together. How wrong I was. Now, instead of straigntening my room with the assurance that my credit situation has been remedied, I'm sitting at work, seething over the fact that I'll have to either go without a voice class, or pay and extra six hundred bucks to do what I consider to be important for my training as a performer. Le sigh. How quickly things changed.
Now that my work schedule is rather set, I have to get reaquainted with the idea that I won't be home again until late evening at the earliest, late night television time under many circustances. I have to have two meals on campus and have my printing done ahead of time. I won't have a chance to change clothes on a hot day or take a nap between classes or catch most of my professors in their office hourse. I essentially won't have down time before Friday. I knew it would be something like this. It's jsust disheartening to jump into it before I realized I had to. Now I'm very close to freaking out. I have 45 minutes before lab. That would be enough time to do my French if I wasn't blogging, but nothing else of importance. I am supposed to be at work immediately after scene design. There's a good chance I'll be late for an appointment or two. I have no idea if I'll even be able to swing voice lessons. It's only the second day and I've gone through several highs and lows. What will tomorrow bring, I wonder?
Thursday, August 23, 2012
My Hope
So I'm coming up on what I hope to be the final fall semester of my undergraduate life and I am freaking out. I've actually been freaking out for the better part of a month now and I don't see that it's doing me any good. Because it's supposed to be my final year, it's my last chance to get things right before I lose my real world buffer and have to do things like account for various utility bills, depend on a job as a principle means of income, and file taxes. I'm concerned about money is what I'm trying to say. Graduating will also leave me bereft of any excuse not to aggressively pound the pavement trying to be an actor. This has to be the time when I get things done and get everything right. I had it in my mind that I would come into this year with a perfect slate: my schedule all mapped out, my room in perfect condition for productivity, my school supplies organized, and all of my little administrative ducks in line. By the last Monday before classes, I was supposed to be able to simulate the rigor of the school year...It's Thursday. I'll be getting new roommates some time tomorrow and my space still isn't in the condition it should be in for school. I've overslept every morning before today. I don't know what my work schedule will be for when I have class. None of this is any huge detriment to the success of the year as yet, but the results of my goal for August don't bode well for my goals for the year. I'm hoping that keeping track of my progress will keep me on track. I'm hoping accounting for myself over this period of time will make me more accountable. And, despite my less-than-stellar trak record with keeping a blog (http://muzzybarker.blogspot.com/), I think it's the easiest way to keep my eyes on the ball. Here's hoping.
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