How fast they grow...

Yesterday was the orientation for my eldest son's entry into middle school. He is very nervous, very excited, and looking forward to it so much.

I, however, am still trying to come to grips with it.

I still remember sitting on the floor of our apartment in Brooklyn with him in my lap as a newborn, watching NHL games on our 13" television. It doesn't seem that long ago that he sat in my lap at Train Town and clapped in that funny way little kids clap, elbows flailing away and grinning to split their head open. And there is a mason jar with stuff from the beach--we went on his last day before he went to school as a kindergartner, and saved some things from our trip in a small jar to remember the day.

Now he is in junior high school. In just a year or two, he will know everything, and I will know nothing. I will stop being cool for a couple years, and his friends will be cooler. He will want to spend his time with someone else, doing something I cannot for the life of me find interest in.

But he will be smarter, more clever, more idealistic than ever. He will see wrong in the world and want to fix it. He will see things in people he has never seen before, for good or ill, and it will help make him into the man he will be for the rest of his life. Hopefully the things I have tried to share with him, teach him, show him in the last 11 years will stick and he will make smart choices through it all.

Plus there are girls.

Hooboy. Better go sit down in my rocker and take a nap.

Clip of the week...

Pilobolus, sent to me by my dear ol' mum, via e-mail. I love these guys--so strong, elegant, creative. Here is the YouTube post of their recent appearance on Conan O'Brien--better get a look at it before NBC finds it and takes it down:



Pretty amazing stuff, there. Visit their official website, if you've a craving for more info. Tons of great clips there, as well.

Disambiguation...

So, I don't know if you've heard of "vanity searches", but they are an interesting little practice. You visit the Google webpage, and type in your own name, and see where you have appeared magically on the world wide web. Very interesting--the last time I did it, I found an old friend from when I worked in the computer gaming industry, and found (and edited) an entry for myself on the IMDB. Pretty slick.

But I was thinking, 'why stop there?' Where else might one kill time on the internet? And then I thought of Wikipedia. For those of you who don't know the site (are you living under a rock?), it is a user-written version of the encyclopedia. Essentially anyone who is an authority (or who thinks they are an authority) on a subject can post an entry. This makes for interesting, if not always accurate, reading.

The articles commonly have internal references to other Wiki entries, however, which means you can easily get a bad case of web-based ADD and suddenly find you are reading an article on goat cheese (when your initial research was based on civil war submarines), and it is making you feel hungry. It is then you look at the clock, and with abject horror realize the reason you might be hungry because you have been on Wiki for six hours and haven't eaten. You also realize you have to go to the bathroom badly, need eyedrops from not-blinking, and the sun is coming up.

Anyway, I thought to myself, 'self, why not do a vanity search on Wiki?' Often, if you enter a vague search term, the site will send you to the page it thinks you meant, and offer you a chance to clarify by going to a "disambiguation" page--which results in a ton of links for the term. By entering "David", I of course got a long article about the guy who slew Goliath. But here is what I learned about myself from the disambiguation page:

Not including the sling-wielding Jewish king, other famous Davids include Saint David, the patron saint of Wales; David of Sasun, an Armenian epic hero; David I and David II, former Kings of Scotland; "David", an Indian actor (1908 – 1981) who apparently had no last name; Jacques-Louis David (1748 – 1825), a French painter; and Dávid, a Slovak noble family.

In the art world, there is of course the famous statue of David by Michelangelo but, unbeknownst to me, there are also sculptures by Donatello, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, and Andrea del Verrochio. There is a link to a movie called "King David", but it starred Richard Gere, so I didn't bother.

There are several places, as well: Camp David, the American presidential retreat; David, Panama and David, Kentucky; David City, Nebraska; St. David, in Arizona and Illinois; and St. David's in Pennsylvania and Wales.

Most Fun Fact discovered whilst on this little manuever: there was apparently a Spanish car company back in the early 20th century that made these babies:



They were tiny little things, most models having three wheels and only two seats, and were only in production between 1913-1923 and 1951-1957. If you think it looks a little like a Citroen, I did too. And they apparently were sleeping in the same production bed for a while, as well. Now I want to get one.

And of course, there are these guys.

What does your name link to?

The Show goes on...

Well, it was another weekend of rousing response to the show, "The Music Man". Houses stood up for us again this weekend, all but one of the five shows. And I feel it is really hitting its stride--people are getting into their characters, having more fun with it, and telling the story.

Now, to quote a character in the show, I am "reticent" about reviews. A dear friend and fellow actor told me once he didn't think much of them because the reviewer could have come on a night that his performance sucked, and then he would be immortalized as stinking up the stage. Conversely, if he really knocked it out of the park, it was still just a review of a single snapshot of a performance run, and therefore not a fair indication of the storytelling. I would agree on most of those points.

I personally don't like them because in 90% of the cases (around here, anyway) the reviewers never actually review the show. They spend time summarizing the show, which I despise--I learned in 9th grade English class that summarizing is not critical analysis. They spend time kissing the proverbial buttocks of the theater company in question. But they rarely say anything about the actors. I would rather appreciate critical feedback as opposed to silence, to be honest.

Those caveats firmly in place (let the reader beware?), here's some local coverage of the show:

one

two

three

Now that your brain has been washed and dried, come and be your own judge. It is a rare chance to see all three of us Yen boys on stage together, if nothing else. If you are planning on coming to see it, you should hurry. We do have three more weekends, but houses have been sold out consistently. Here's the ticket link, just in case you're too lazy to scroll down. ;o)

Yet another reason to watch the NHL...

Okay, I am not the world's biggest pro sports fan. If you've been paying any attention, you've probably already picked up that I am a hockey guy--but that's the extent of my pro sports devotions. I like football (American football, Cara, sorry) and pro volleyball or pro lacrosse--which most people don't even consider pro sports. I find baseball tolerable, but can barely endure basketball--and don't even get me started on tennis or golf. Beyond the whole I'm-bored-to-tears-can-we-get-another-ten-dollar-hotdog thing, though, the world of pro sports has become so commercial, so pathetically Hollywood its money-grubbing, scandal-ridden, media-attention-grabbing stunts, that I just don't have a taste for it.

All that aside, though, if I'm watching football (and, I must admit, I do like to watch pro football occassionally), I like to root for the Green Bay Packers. An uncle of mine played for them way back in the days of leather helmets, when the guys playing for the team really were working at the packing plant during the day, so I have a bit of loyalty there. They are a community-owned team, not spinning at the whim of some star chamber of corporate magnates. They come out at practice and sign autographs for the fans. They have the same horrible, wonderfully charactered and storied stadium they have had for years, not some sleek mall with an astroturf field in the middle. There is character in the fan base, character in the locker room, and it all shows in how they play, win or lose.

Their quarterback for the last several years has been a man named Brett Favre (that rhymes with carve, if you don't know.) This guy was a perfect fit for the team--he had some problems, sure, but he overcame them. (He struggled with a painkiller addiction, but outed himself and got off it on his own, not at the expense of his team, league, or reputation.) He was a blue-collar sort of guy, good natured and at ease in the spotlight. He worked to solidify the organism of the Packers, recruiting heavily and making suggestions to the front office that led to the team taking the Vince Lombardi trophy back to Green Bay. He played selflessly, even on the weekend after his father passed on, dedicating the game to him and winning soundly. He was a sort of Cal Ripken of football, setting records in many, many categories and winning the Super Bowl. He played with heart, intensity, and love of the game.

The fans, we loved him so, we didn't want him to ever leave. But we all understand how time can do its evil thing to the human body--especially a body that is used to experiencing the same force as a car wreck dozens of times a day for years on end. At the end of last season, he held a tearful press conference in which he expressed his intention to finally hang up the cleats for good. We all cried with him, but we moved on, the team moved on, everyone in the world moved on.

Then the unthinkable thing happened: he started listening to his agent.

Suddenly, a few weeks ago, he was back in the spotlight, pressuring his former team to take him back. See, there were a couple of years left in his contract, and he just didn't want to stop playing after all. The Pack had already moved forward, though--they drafted players according to a new strategy utilizing their next (hopefully great) quarterback, and couldn't just change in midstream again. He and his agent pressured the team, to the point of getting the NFL commissioner involved. Having forced everyone's hand, the commish said the Pack had to take him back. It was weird.

Then, just as suddenly, he was on the New York Jets roster. What the aitch?!? Not only has he abandoned reason, he has now abandoned loyalty as well. It is as if he was replaced by a pod some summer night in his home, and this is all part of a crazy alien plot to do away with Truth, Justice and the American Way. Now, I have to root against the Jets just for having such an abomination, and that doesn't make me feel good. Just conflicted.

I wonder if I can get a NHL-only sports pack on my cable this season?

Clip of the week...

This one was forwarded to me from the Manhunter from Mars:



Awesome stuff, that. If you want to see more great stop-motion animation (there is one called "Roof Sex" that I found particularly funny), go visit PES' YouTube page.

Opening weekend...

Well, The Music Man is officially up and running.

It has been an arduous rehearsal process, to be sure. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, the last week before opening is referred to lovingly as "Hell Week". It is during that time that the final tech stuff (lights, sound, moving set pieces, costumes, etc.) gets combined with the performance stuff to make an actual show. It can be frustrating, and start-stop, and tends to make everyone involved edgy and miserable. In keeping with this theme, we were held late by over 45 minutes at least three of the nights, which in combination with other stuff did not make for happy campers come go time on Sunday for the final dress rehearsal.

There is a saying that goes that "you always wish you had two more weeks of rehearsal." In this case, I fully embraced that philosophy. I have never felt more nervous and unprepared than I did for this show. So much of our rehearsal time was spent in blocking, music, and dance (and we could have spent more) that we never really got to the "acting" rehearsals. A lot of it was left to us, and while that is interesting and challenging, and I felt trusted as an actor, I also felt VERY on edge as we approached audiences last Monday night.

In addition to all that, we are not working with a live orchestra--it is 'computer generated' music, and as big a drag as that sounds artistically, it is nothing compared to the technological nightmare it is logistically. We were supposed to receive work CDs of the music three weeks before open, but the software and hardware didn't even arrive until two weeks out. There were things to be ironed out, fixed and tweaked, and needless to say we got our CDs four days before our previews started. Then, on the second night of previews, the system just would not boot up, so we had to go from the CD, which was at completely different sound levels, so the Wiz was scrambling to make it all work. He did a wonderful job, all things considered, but hoo boy.

All that aside, however, we opened last weekend to two standing ovations out of three performances (we also got one on the preview the night before opening). So somebody likes it. :o) Here's a clip of one of the numbers (I am the one in the red jacket and black pants):



Come see it! Tickets are available here.

Are you easily fooled? Take a try at this one...

So, I'm playing Prof. Harold Hill in The Music Man (opens tomorrow, click here for more info). He is the classic swindler/con man type: smooth, slick, charming--and very selfish. He smiles and jokes and charms his way into everyone in town's pockets, until...well, either you know the story, or you don't. I'm not about to print spoilers of my own show here, for pity's sake.

Anyway, being an actor who loves people watching, I am naturally very interested in the subtleties of human nature and expression. I recently stumbled over something I found very challenging and educational. It is on the BBC page about human workings and psychological stuffs. Take the Genuine Smile Test to see if you can tell who is really smiling, and who is faking it. I got 16 out of 20, and learned a bunch of really interesting stuff at the end, to boot.

Now, off to practice my deception a little more in front of the mirror. ;o)

Clip of the week...

...now on Hump Day!

I feel like I'm spinning way too many plates right now, so I googled "juggling" and found this amazing video of Chris Bliss. I had seen it some time ago--you may have, as well--but man is it entertaining.



I wonder if Michael Jackson makes royalties off the music...

"You know that feeling you get, when you're leaning back in a chair, and you're just about to fall...

...but you don't? I feel that way all the time." (Steven Wright)

I know the last couple of posts have been rather heavy, and probably stirred things up for you, my dear readers, in your own bubbly pots. But I wanted to give a hearty thanks to each and every one of you for your comments and encouragement. In the last couple of days, I have received some wonderful words from Blender, Denise, and an incredible e-mail from my mom. (Yes, she reads this blog, so watch your language!) (Just kidding, she knows we're adults.) (Well, she knows you are an adult--she knows me better than that.)

Anyway, I have quite a bit more to say, but it can wait. It was more important to me to thank you for your blog comments, private messages and e-mail. This is a support net I didn't expect to find below me. You are all, each and every one of you, wonderful. Thank you.

Five things--not an easy post...

So, Cara tagged me in her blog and asked me to respond. If you are anything like I am (and I bet you are), this will be a very hard question to answer:

What are five things you’ve said or done in the past twelve months that you’re most proud of?

Interesting, since, I could easily pop off five things in the past twelve hours that I feel poorly about. Why is it that we are so good at self-criticism, but so poor at self-honor? Perhaps for me it is because I believe so firmly that self-aggrandization is a bad, bad thing. ("It's like that fella Bill Shakespeare once said: a man who blows his own horn usually ain't worth a toot.") That translates to me avoiding it like the plague, which ends up meaning I am (a) all about trying to let my deeds to the talkin', and (b) oblivious to things that are good about me. (In fact, just writing that last made me cringe.)

However, because I am also up for a good challenge, here goes:

1. I have survived.
If you read my last post, you know the last twelve months have been stressful. In the face of losing several friends and one family member, changing careers and seeing my dream work environment turn into a nightmare, ending a relationship of nearly eighteen years at the behest of the other half, losing my retirement account, moving twice, and losing my favorite vehicle of ten years, it has not been a smooth sail. Cara took credit for staying alive through a tough time; I will do the same. I believe that in the course of those human events, I have emerged a stronger, different, better person, and have a stronger faith, greater wisdom, and better understanding as a result.

2. My life balance is good.
I'm not feeling it right at this moment, mind you, because my rehearsal schedule is grueling (we open Friday). But in general, I have time with my kids, a job I can do that pays well and is flexible with the kids and the acting thing, and I have some fun times with friends. I am busy, as I always have been, but it is good busy now, for the most part.

3. My theater career has taken off.
Also in the past year, things performing-wise have gone off the chart. I worked all last summer on an amazing project--we did a version of Macbeth with only five actors. One played Macbeth, and the other four of us played very antagonistic witches, who shapeshifted from one character to another in an attempt to get the poor Scot into lots and lots of trouble. At the last minute (four weeks from open), I was asked to jump into the lead. It was very tough, but I felt so accomplished afterward. Over the holidays I co-produced a version of "A Christmas Carol" that was moderately successful. Then in the spring I did "The Wizard of Oz" at the Mountain Play, a 3,800 seat amphitheater on the top of Mount Tamalpais. It was my first experience working with a big, professional theater like that one. I did a number of spoken word pieces, including the incredibly thought-provoking "Guantanemo" in May. Now I am working on "The Music Man". It has been an incredible year.

4. I have let myself get close to someone.
This has not been easy. I have some serious self-esteem issues (had them before the divorce, now they are amplified). I have deep-seated questions about how good I am for someone else in a long-term relationship, and that has of course colored my opinions about how good I can be for someone else in even a casual relationship. But I am trying to release that crap and just enjoy myself and grow. The result is that I am growing closer to one particular young lady who is a blessing and has helped me to see things about myself that I never really did.

5. I have started molding a new faith for myself.
I spent nearly two decades in one particular faith, and events led me to re-evaluate my position on the whole faith issue. I have spent the last three years snooping around in other gods' laundry, and have found some interesting things. I don't have a label for what I believe, and it isn't easy to describe. The idea of karma weighs in heavily, and so does string theory. In a nutshell, however, I have experienced it practically in a bevy of blessings that are in direct relation to the outlandishly tough things I have experienced in life.

There you have it. In retrospect, it looks like a lot of global-type things, and not very specific, so perhaps I should do more work here. But it is nice to get a perspective on things. I can tend to get bogged down in little details, and lose gratitude when I don't keep the good in mind.

Got your own list? Make it. You'll feel better.

State of the Union...

As the title of this blog suggests, life is loud for me. I would like to have a cottage somewhere, sit and drink tea and write and all that, but that is not my lot in life, I find. Especially over the last two years (although 2005 was a VERY loud year as well).

I was chatting with a friend yesterday about the Holmes/Rahe stress test. These guys were at the forefront of the stress-leads-to-illness movement, way back in the 70's (well, Wiki says 1967, so I guess I was off by a little). Briefly, what these guys did was to put together a checklist of 'life events', both good and bad, that were stressors. Each life event on the list was given a point value. You check off the ones that you've experienced in the last 12 months, and then add up the points. Supposedly, a score of 300+ indicates 'at risk of illness'; 150 to 299 indicates 'risk of illness is moderate (reduced by 30%)', and 150 and below indicates 'only a slight risk of illness'.

Last fall, I took the test and (even though I knew of it long ago, and what it meant), I was surprised to find how high it was. After chatting with my friend yesterday, I decided to take it again to see how I am doing now. There are some schools of thought that say you should count more than once for multiple occurrences, but I only counted once.

My score? 768

Oof. Good thing I have those coping tools from all these years of dealing with manic depression, or I would probably be in the hospital by now. {:o)

Back in the saddle, again...

(cue Gene Autry:

I'm back in the saddle again
Out where a friend is a friend...

Thanks to a friendly nudge from Cara, I have returned from the land of not-ether to at least check in with you all. It has been a crazy week and a half. (Well, month, if you've been paying any attention at all.) Since my last cheesy post, I have had several adventures, not the least of which was a birthday celebration to add to the books.

Last Sunday was my (#currentyear-#birthyear)nd birthday. I had remarked some time ago to my current interest, Denise that my birthdays in the past always seemed to be a fizzle, or something I arranged myself, and she jumped into the breach. I was told several weeks ago to plan nothing for the weekend of August 3rd, and to be prepared for anything.

I was not.

Oh, I thought I was ready for anything, but she and some of my other friends are very, very devious. I was on my way to Denise's house (a granny unit behind another friend's house) when it struck me that she told me to come over "any time after 12:15". This was suspicious to me, since she usually isn't that time specific. But when I pulled up to the front house, there were no cars around. On top of that, the couple that lives in the front house were not in party mode--he was washing his truck, and she was in a robe sipping coffee on the porch.

When I walked in the back, though, there they were: people from all walks of my life--theater, family, friends--yelling "Surprise!". There was a HUGE pile of food, all good, and wine and beer--including a version of my favorite brew (don't know why brown ales are so rare, but they are not easy to find--still trying to figure out who played that card). There were balloons, many cards, three bottles of champagne just for me (they were gifts), gifts. The weather was PERFECT and we all had an amazing time.

But it didn't end there. After the party wrapped around 4:00pm, we dropped my dog off at the overnight place she likes and checked in at the Hotel La Rose in historic Railroad Square in Santa Rosa. Then we went to the Sonoma County Fair. Denise had never been to a horse race before, so we caught the last race of the day (we did not win, unfortunately). We saw all the stuff I missed about the place, took a ride on the Ferris Wheel, and left to get ready for dinner.

We got rather dressed up, and headed over to a stellar Italian place called Ca Bianca. Beautiful old Victorian building, converted to a restaurant. The service was amazing, the food was delicious, and we had the place pretty much to ourselves. (We got there right before closing, but never felt rushed to get out of their hair.) Denise had also put together a "spirit of birthdays" thing--a memory from my folks of a year of my life (spirit of birthday past), a card from her (present), and some cards from my boys (yet to come).

It was an incredible day. As Mr. Autry would say: "Whoopi-ty-aye-yay!"