Seriously...?

Reinforcing my belief that there is very little commercially viable new theatre being produced these days, it has just been announced that foghorn... erm... I mean Patti LuPone will be reprising her role as Mama Rose in Gypsy on Broadway. May God have mercy on our souls.

Supporting Local Theatre

I tend to get a little worked up when I compare the amount of live theatre I see in this and surrounding areas with the number of members of the local theatre community who generally come out and see the stuff that I've worked on. I'm resigning myself to calm the hoo-haa down, however, and hopefully lead by example.

Last night, I went to see The Great American Trailer Park Musical at SPOTLIGHTERS. It was by far the hardest I have laughed in a long time. It was a borderline slapstick, very tongue-in-cheek look at a mobile home community in Florida. The production refuses to take itself seriously, which is refreshing in the lofty world of theatre, and I encourage anyone who has the chance over the next few days (it closes on Sunday) to make it out to see it. Buy tickets ahead of time as some houses have been selling out.

Another friend of mine recently opened up Last Five Years at The Vagabond Theatre (known to true Jason Robert Brown obsessives as L5Y for short). I haven't had the chance to see it yet, but don't doubt that it's amazing. Even if the production weren't stellar, however, the story is genuine and hits close to home. Wikipedia it. It will make you laugh, cry, and break your heart all in an hour and fifteen minutes. This runs through Thanksgiving, so you have time... but Jason Robert Brown brings people out of the woodwork (Troy and I drove to New Jersey to see L5Y performed last year) and the house is definitely not large, so purchasing advanced tickets is also recommended.

And if you feel like getting out of Charm City for a night and seeing some AEA actors perform, another friend is the first black woman to ever portray Susan in tick, tick... BOOM! at MetroStage. Also running through Thanksgiving weekend, this show is a must-see if you can. And if you're like me and not raking in the big bucks, Thursday and Sunday night shows are cheaper than Friday and Saturday nights.

Green grass on both sides

With High School Musical having been closed for over a week, I’ve had a remarkable amount of down time. I usually go from one to the next seamlessly: starting production on my next piece once I’ve opened the last… or worse—working on two productions simultaneously and staggering the openings by three or four weeks. For the first time in a year, I’m actually getting a huge break between productions. We don’t start rehearsals for Carmen Jones until January, so I essentially have the entire months of November and December (minus a few leftover promotional performances for HSM at UMBC and the Kennedy Krieger Festival of the Trees) to be theatre-free.

I was elated to finally be able to take a break. I haven’t taken a vacation in two years, so the thought of being able to hole up in my condo and sleep for days was looking pretty appetizing towards the end of production. Now that I’ve caught up on sleep (a little too much. In the past two weeks, I’ve slept through a standing weekly bar outing with friends, a few nights I could’ve been working on the next show, and even an evening with the beau) and have actually started pretending that I have a commitment to the company that writes my bigger paycheck, I’ve reached a point of complacency. With the complacence comes self-reflection and pensive moments. My thoughts of late (or today at least)? Why is it that the grass is greener on the other side?

I must preface this slightly-too-deep musing with a brief corollary: I’m not depressed. I’m quite happy with where my life is right now. So, if anyone happens to actually read this silliness that I write, please don’t be alarmed or feel the need to contact the local mental hygiene authorities.

Moving on… I think it curious that my life was filled with so much drama 7 or 8 years ago. As far I was concerned, I was fat (20 pounds lighter). I was SO talented (with loads less education and experience). I had so much longing, however, to just be anywhere but where I was then. When I was in high school, I couldn’t wait to be in college. I thought that would cure all of my gripes with life. Once I was in college, I couldn’t wait to be graduated and in the real world. Now that I’m 23, have a mortgage payment and two jobs—one completely artistic and enlightened and one completely… not… I split my time between longing to be back in my “innocent youth” (when I didn’t have to worry about bills or life or grown-up stuff) and longing to be 30 and more financially stable and married with children and a single-family home and a back yard and a dog.

Despite my vacillating life desires, however, there is one thing that stays constant, and that is my consistent inability to be pleased and crazy grateful for how fantastic my life is in this moment. So I am avowed to spend the next few days thinking about what it is about my life right now that I’ll long to have back 10 years from now when the moment has passed. Will it be quiet time or personal space or my 23-year-old body? Will it be my sense of humor or my ability to run out of the house at 10 pm to BEGIN to hang out? Whatever it is, I will remind myself to savor every moment that God has me this week… this month… this year. I will thumb my nose at my ego and be thankful for my independence from the viewpoint of both a woman who used to be 16 and a woman who will sooner or later be 30.

Still militant

Today's the "National Day of Action" for the nonsense that's happening in Jena.



"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." -Mahatma Ghandi

Are you wearing your black today?

It's 2007, but that does that really mean anything?

Growing up amongst the WASPs in the third richest county in America, I didn't really get in touch with my "black side" (if you will) until a year or two ago. I blame it on my environment constantly, but anyone close to the Downbeat camp will agree that I've made far strides in the past few years. A black guy I dated introduced me to Spike Lee movies like School Daze. Baby steps. Then a Korean guy I dated introduced me to hip hop a few years later. Step step step. None of that, however, prepared me for the mass gathering of "my people" (the Black Student Union) in the center of my college campus in the middle of the night, which one of my girlfriends will tell you left me clutched tightly to her in horror and amazement at (in my words at the time): "that many black people in one place at one time." Clearly, I'm no militant black woman. I prided myself through my more naive years in transcending race lines. Then I learned a little about the world and the people in it and prided myself instead in just looking past race lines... not making them important, citing that it was indeed the year 2007. Now at the decrepit and jaded age of 23, I've prided myself in being unapologetically irreverent (bordering on inappropriate)... taking little to no shame in finding the most possible humor and levity out of all things "color"-related. Laughing through Imus. Rolling my eyes at Tyler Perry. Making jokes out of the NAACP's highly publicized funeral for the N-word. After all, life isn't nearly as fun if you're not laughing hysterically through it with the people who bring you joy.

So at any rate, I decided to take a break from Perez and Michael K this morning at work when the idea popped into my head to reacquaint myself with The Boondocks. Today's strip was just too hilarious to pass up. It satirizes the very real fact that Bob Jones University just recently recinded its long-standing policy against students dating across race lines. HILARIOUS! I immediately e-mailed it to my very Irish boyfriend, my black girlfriend who married a white man, my BFF with a penchant for making slightly racist jokes, and my open-minded mother (whatever that means). And then I sat back and prided myself in how far I've come: I could laugh at race-related satire and share it with others.

I went through the majority of the rest of my day at work when one of my co-workers walked into my office and asked me if I was wearing black tomorrow. I'd completely forgotten-- tomorrow, September 20th, has been set aside as a day for thousands upon thousands of people across the nation who are disgusted with the situation in Jena, Louisiana to wear black. To show their protest with the modern-day Jim Crow law enforcement and to stand in solidarity with the young men and their families who are being unfairly prosecuted by a heavy-handed District Attorney. Everytime I read more about the developments, my heart breaks a little more and I question what statements like "we've come so far" really mean. That there could be something called "a white tree" at a public high school in this country in the year 2007 makes me think we might as well be in 1930. And it also makes me question every time I've found levity or humor in a situation that's racially charged. If things like this are still happening in this day and age, maybe we haven't come far enough to be able to make jokes. Maybe it really is a big deal that Imus called some girls "nappy headed hoes." I thank God that I've never been put in a situation like that... and at the same time, I'm afraid that if we've regressed this far in 2007, enough progress will not have been made in 2027 that my children won't risk being put in a similar situation.

For more (official) information, go here.

Let's try this again!

One of the downsides to being as ridiculously busy as I am is that I start a lot of things that I don't finish. I love to read. Before I could drive, I would always carry a book around with me-- a sort of security blanket. I lost the leisure of reading for pleasure when I got to college, but I picked it back up last summer when I didn't have a day job and could lay in bed through Regis and Kelly. Now, however, in the wake of having music directed six shows in the past calendar year, I've got books strewn across my condo-- at least 4 or 5 of them half-read and never completed. That being said, my blogging track record is even worse. I started this Baltimore theatre gossip blog with my BFF last February or March seeing as I'm obsessed with gossip bloggers like Perez Hilton and Michael K of Dlisted and consumed by theatre. We did a few really good posts-- we covered a friend's wedding that was attended by the Who's Who of Baltimore theatre, we posted some seething blind items, and we reviewed a few shows. And then we abandoned the poor thing. How a propos that it was named "Get That Theatre Out My Face"-- because that's just what we did: out of sight, out of mind. I went to edit it the other day, and blogger had deleted the poor thing for inactivity. So sad. It's all for the better. I'm trying to not be privy to gossip anymore... unless, of course, it's on Perez and about Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears.

At any rate, sitting in a Starbucks (generally my electronic home base as the internet signal here is much stronger than at my house) around the corner from my house, enjoying an early day off from work and a night free from rehearsal, I became inspired to start blogging again, and to not fail. Cross your fingers that I don't. This go around, I'll just talk about those things that consume my life daily: work in "corporate America" whilst yearning for the day when I can work in non-profit for something I'm passionate about, trying to build an empire in Baltimore theatre since I'm tied down here at the moment, and the surreal moments that I spend with the loves of my life.

This past weekend was quite celebratory. Stephen, my other half, threw a rockin' surprise 30th birthday party for his big brother J at this adorable Turkish restaurant in lower Mount Vernon, the Cazbar. A friend threw herself a birthday party here a few weeks ago, and that's how we found out about it. Stephen decided to forego the bellydancer this time around (which is probably for the better as she was a little on the washed up side), but the kabobs and hummus were both stellar. It's really a fun place to have a party, and I can't wait to eat upstairs, where the tables all look very intimate tucked behind curtains and in nooks carved out in the structure of the restaurant.

Saturday, we were on to two other birthday celebrations. My friend Erin had a small gathering (which is hard to do quietly anywhere on a Saturday night in downtown Baltimore) at Max's On Broadway. Max's is a beer lover's paradise, as it has like a hundred different brews on draught. Any place that serves Resurrection is a friend of mine. I also like that Max's is brighter than The Brewer's Art's basement... which has tons of seating, but is always too smoky, loud, and crowded. While it was definitely booming at Max's, we found a nook for about 15 or 20 on the second floor, which is a spacious cigar-smoking room (with Smoke-eeters... so even though some people were smoking cigs, and I saw a cigar smoker or two, it wasn't smelly, and I didn't leave reaking of smoke like I usually leave a bar on a Saturday night).

We left Max's after maybe 45 minutes and drove to Mick O'Sheas to celebrate Jacob's birthday. Jacob's a close childhood friend of Stephen's that holds a special place in my cold, black heart. There was a $3 cover charge for the band (which was loud, and not Irish... one of Stephen's prime complaints). The kitchen was still open (some point after 11:00.... I didn't really note the time), though, and they serve Resurrection, too, so I was a happy girl. I've clearly gotten spoiled by my weekly Wednesday night spot, Slainte, where anywhere from 5 to 30 of our closest friends come to take over the second floor of the pub every week and sing negro spirituals (no joke... we're obnoxious). One of Slainte's claims to authenticity is that it was built in Ireland and shipped over to Baltimore by boat. I'm not sure if that's myth or truth, but it definitely feels like it. I love sitting in the opulence that is the red-veloured banquettes at the tables of darkly-stained wood and wrought-iron. Mick O'Sheas totally lacks that. There are corky ceiling tiles and pretty ordinairy decor. The only thing that tips you off that the place is "Irish-themed" other than the name is a few flags hanging from the ceiling and a few shamrocks painted in murals on the wall. I would suggest going there on Monday nights if you're poor. They host a Monday special: $5 for a 1/2 pound burger, plate of fries, and a pint. Cheap date and always fun. Other than that, I really have no interest in going there... especially after having my sound polluted by the loudness that was the random garage band.

At any rate (almost done, I promise!), Sunday early afternoon, we brunched. Brunch is, by far, my favorite meal of life. If I could sleep til 10 or 11 everyday, eat my one-and-only meal at 1:30, wash it down with a mimosa, and then go watch a football game before falling asleep early, I would need nothing else out of life. My friends and I keep saying that we're going to go, but between most of us having church jobs and/or Sunday matinees, it's usually an impossibility. After months of saying, "We should go to brunch," I finally just put my foot down and made a Facebook invite, figuring whomever could come would and whoever couldn't would deal with it. I picked Hampden's Golden West Cafe, located right on the avenue. I think I'd been there once for lunch before and really liked it, maybe? Hampden in general excites me. The Avenue (as 36th street has been deemed) is bustling with independently-owned boutique shops, vintage dealers, art galleries, and unique eateries. Golden West is one of them-- boasting Southwest-infused cuisine, courteous and attentive wait staff, and banging signature cocktails. The brunch was delicious, a la carte (which I love, because buffets generally make me queasy), and a nice change from scenery. Being stuck in Catonsville for rehearsals and shows, we're usually subjected to... ummm... Applebee's, which I'm not even going to bother to hyperlink, because I don't suggest that anyone ever go there unless they have to. It was such a beautiful day outside... so we strolled down the Avenue to my favoritest of favorite Hampden shops, Minas, so that I could introduce my loves to it's fabulousness. Being that I've spent too much money this weekend, I abstained from making any purchases. One of my friends bought a really cute and loud Kenneth Cole shirt for like $20, some great prints for his new apartment, and some other fun things. My sister loaded up, too... and they even have a basket of free stuff to give away to kids that come in, which kept my niece entertained for a few minutes. Ever customer gets a free book of their choice... books are stacked on a shelf as you exit the shop. This place has a fun smattering of vintage clothes, accessories, jewelry, hand-screened t-shirts by local Baltimore artists, books, 'zines, and fine artwork. They also have workshops and speakers upstairs in their gallery space.

At any rate, wow.... yeah, I'm not usually this long-winded. It was a full weekend, though. I didn't even bring up the African-American Heritage Festival in Towson that took up my entire Saturday because, well, I still haven't fully recovered from it. If I feel like it, I'll recount my experience later. It's filled with soapbox rantings about "my people," and how self-oppressive we can be. Yeah, you don't really want to read that nonsense, do you? At any rate, check out some of the places I went this weekend. They're all worth a visit, and one of them might turn out to be your favorite new spot. And hopefully, I'll keep the blogging up.