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Yes, it is true.  Catch all the latest on my new blog, Angela Something.

For the love of new work

I was once asked in an interview what new work meant to me and I blurted out "terrifying adventure."

I also compared it to starting to date someone which is just...such a poor excuse for a metaphor.  I mean, that could be applicable if you were dating a really interesting monster who redrafted everything they said and was charming and alarming and totally off on their cues.  And lost...in a good way.

But terrifying adventure...

Theater should be a terrifying adventure, all theater worth making that is.  It's all about exposing and offering and you have to step out on a limb.  I often use the term "go broke or go home" with my students but I think that is what theater should be.  It is big in heart, loaded with guts, and new work is even more intense cause it is taking a jump without knowing where you will land.  

Jumping on the left (aka acting in a new work) in foolsFURY's "Port Out Starboard Home"

And this month is jammed pack with so much jumping.

It is the eve of the first preview for foolsFURY's world premiere of Port Out Starboard Home and while I am practicing dances and reviewing my script, I am waiting to Skype a meeting with the director of Don't Weep for Me Willow Tree, my new one act set to perform in NYC as part of Communal Spaces at the end of the month.

There is just so much new work, so much biting of the legs of your costars and writing into the wee hours of the night...ah the terror.  I need more coffee.

And speaking of biting legs, if you are in the Bay Area, don't miss POSH at ZSpace!  The show has already been getting some nice press  (here and here and here ).  And for you NYC theater people, you can see it at LaMama in November.

Now excuse me, I have a meeting and then must practice some tap dancing.

Why I am living in yoga pants

Behold the glory

The title of this blog should really read, "Why I am beyond stoked to be living in yoga pants and not stressed that I am not dressing corporate enough."

So yes, I am in San Francisco busy with rehearsals and me and my yoga pants are reunited best friends.  (Feels like grad school all over again.)  And not only am I relieved to be living in yoga pants but I love what I am doing in my pants.  (Double win.)

I am rehearsing for this:

To find out more visit foolsFURY's website and like the show on Facebook.  

Nighttime is the right time

Nighttime is the right time to figure out how to tell stories.   To stare at the structure of a play and overthink form.   To stress that things are too literal or too magical or not important enough.

Nighttime is the right time to figure out what exactly I am reacting to.  What issues are sticking to my bones and what research needs to be done.

Nighttime is for anticipatory silence, for the stars, for caffeinated drinks, for headphones, for a dangerous peace.

Nighttime is when you don't know what to write anymore, when you stare at your play and think it's not timely enough, that this is not the story we need to hear right now.  And yet you can't define what story needs to be told cause there are a billion things that need to be said and that makes you stop in your tracks.

Nighttime is the time I find my voice.  It silently bounces off the bedroom walls, slams into computer keys, and fills up docs with underlined misspellings.

And owning the night, giving a space for it, that is the hard thing.  And tonight wasn't so bad.

Thinking about characters..strong lady characters

All my plays right now have one focus:  Bad Ass Women

Women who want more than love of men.  Women with objectives that go beyond their heart, that are about survival, that lead them to fight epic fights.  

I am in rehearsals right now for the upcoming production of Port Out Starboard Home by foolsFURY, and whenever I am acting it leads to me to think that much more about the plays I am writing.  It leads me to look at my characters and think, "Would I want to play you?  Would you be worth coming into rehearsal every day?"  I suppose I want my plays to feel like Thanksgiving meals-for both actors and designers.  I want mouths to water, guts to be filled, and satisfaction so deep that a vacation is needed.  

And I want those stories to be about bad ass women.  Cause that is what I want to play (even though I never want to act in my own plays) and right now it's what I want to see.  I want women who make me want to jump out of my seat, in either horror or glee, because they are fighting.

And speaking of bad ass women, I have just discovered Wanda Jackson.  Why it has taken me so long to discover her, I don't know.  It feels like a crime.  

3,720 miles in 6 days and the sky is amazing

Michael with the most
not normal person he knows

Michael said 3,720 miles in 6 days is "disgusting."   I think 3,720 miles in 6 days gives me street cred.

We learned many things on this trip.  Michael now knows what the inside of a South Dakota cop car looks like and therefore hates South Dakota with a fire of a thousand suns.  (That is not a hyperbole.)

I learned that in Minnesota, I am an "unknown" ethnic.  I actually like South Dakota with it's Great Plains, Black Hills, and I want to marry Wyoming.  I also learned that when going across the country, it is good to brush up on your US History so you can fully understand what you are seeing.

At home, in California

I also learned that somehow over the last two years, I have become a certifiable New Yorker.  For the first time, I introduced myself as a "New Yorker" and I found two things that constantly amazed me on this trip:  the size of bathrooms in public places and the size of the sky.

Bathrooms in this country are huge.  You can fit more than two people in them.  You don't have to push your way in, slam into something as you try to squeeze through the door.  There were bathrooms in restaurants bigger than my bedroom and that is just...such an excess of space.  I remember going to a restroom in South Dakota and stopping to marvel at the square footage.   I found no bathroom that had microscopic stalls, layered tagging, tiny sinks, or themed designs.  There were simply organized extravagant bathroom facilities.  My mind was blown.

Wyoming

And then there is the sky.  You see the sky in Wyoming and you suddenly understand country music.  There isn't a town for hours, there isn't a car for miles, all you have is the great big blue and it consumes you.   For the first time in months I could feel myself relax.

In New York, everything exists in inches and seconds.  How can I put more books in my small bedroom, how can I fit more clothes in my tiny closet, how many people can sardine their way into a rush hour 5 train, how much closer is that guy's backpack going to get to my face, how loud do those headphones have to be, how long do I have to "continue to be patient" as the subway stalls at Fulton and all I need to get to is Wall Street!

Grand Tetons

And then you get to see mountains at Big Horn and skyscrapers are no longer marvels.  The awe inspiring chaos of navigating up Broadway to get the 7 at Times Square doesn't hold a candle to the expansiveness of the plains.   Seems like a pointless revelation but New York City is all time and no space and that makes you forget.

So when you see a road sign that says your destination is 267 miles away and all you have is a full tank of gas and box of unsalted cashews, all you can do is take in the scenery.  And every subway delay that put you on the verge of a psychotic anger fueled meltdown is instantly made ridiculous.

Empire State Building

But despite New York's hustle and bustle, New York is also about people.  I get to meet amazing people from everywhere you can imagine and I have never felt more comfortable going through cities no matter how barren or manicured their main streets are.  Seeing the country means understanding the country and for me it means I get to put places with faces and I am a lucky gal to live in such a melting pot city.

If only I could get more sky.

Day 6: I hate this song

I hate this song, every pop station in every state loves this song and has to play it every hour but I hate it.  I didn't know this song till I got in the car and this more than any Maroon 5 (Michael's favorite) or Katy Perry (don't get me started) song is the fastest way to get me to Crazy Town.