Happy Days, Thoughtful Nights

Theatre of the Absurd. It's a type of art that always strikes me most when I stop looking at it as such. Commonly understood through a variety of characters who share a common thread, Theatre of the Absurd features those who seem to be forever tangled in hopeless situations, living in repetitious action devoid of known importance. The text may surface simply as it's often full of nonsensical dialogue and small talk. And Mr. Samuel Beckett seems to dance through absurd ideals with grace and power as he appears to center his work around the concept of loss; and as I remember learning in college, Beckett was drawn to exploring how man's failure of overcoming the idea of absurdity ultimately dictated how he lived in it.

Yikes, right? What I find so fascinating about the idea of absurdity is the boundary in which it lies... so often I find myself in situations or discussions that seem destined for the content of an absurd piece and just as often I will read something deemed as absurd and find true honesty. So when I learned that Cal Shakes would be putting on Beckett's "Happy Days" outside in their beautiful theater, I was anxious to see this challenging work brought to life.

Attending Cal Shakes is often a highlight of my month during the summer season as it combines two of my loves: plays and the chance to pack a picnic. Thanks to my job at The Magic Theatre, I am supplied with complimentary tickets to many of the great playhouses in the bay area, including this wonderful space which is easily one of my favorites. (And here's a tip, if you do go to see a show in the hills of this lovely Orinda theater, I suggest going on a "tasting evening" which are usually held on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. When I went to see "Happy Days" I enjoyed a nice selection of free cheese and figs which enhanced my experience even more. So if you like plays, picnics, and talking about the production, let me share a ticket with you and we'll go together. "A Midsummer's Night Dream" is the next one up...)

Anyway, whether it came from my joy of free delicious food or just the air up there, I found myself consumed in the material. "Happy Days" left me completely heartbroken and I drove back to San Francisco with tears still on my face.

Within the play, we meet Winnie, a woman committed to appearing optimistic regardless of the depth of her despair. Winnie is the only voice we hear throughout the play, excluding a few monosyllabic sounds from her husband Willie, and while she's buried up to her waist in Act I (up to her neck in Act II) she attempts to live in a "normal" fashion. Winnie references a romanticized past, flirts with trivial topics, and strains to smile at it all. She often proclaims, "This will have been another happy day," while fighting tears and speaking at length stopping only to ensure that her Willie is still alive and listening, appearing terrified of the idea of her words going unheard.

To me, the true tragedy of the piece is reflected by the mask of comedy. Winnie is literally becoming engulfed by the Earth but still searches for affirmations of faith and happiness, choosing to laugh when she really wants to cry. In Act II she states, “to have been what I always am – and so changed from what I was”, and my heart dropped for her. I felt honestly boggled to feel so connected to a character that spends most of her time in a land of endless chitchat and yet so close to a harsh reality of my greatest mortal fear.

It's a terrifying thought that we're all basically drowning in matter we can't control. We have no choice but to accept that we're all being buried by it, muster up all of our strength, and attempt a smile. I found myself tearing up a bit as the play closed with the thoughts, "life is so sad! It's all so sad!" passing through my mind. I felt I had been unmasked actually as I tried to understand Winnie. My biggest fear isn't death or being buried alive, it's simply being forgotten. To have spent hours speaking from my heart only to have the words vanish and never remembered, to have spent a lifetime trying to make some difference in this crazy world only to fail, or to have simply allowed myself to love only to completely disappear. Well, that, and I'm also terrified of snakes. But the beauty of witnessing the show, thus another reason why Theatre is nothing short of magical, is that seeing this play awakened these feelings. I was moved and changed after an hour and forty five minutes in the East Bay. What a gift. Seriously. I may have left weeping a little bit and questioning life... and what I'm doing with my own... but it also fired me up, gave me something to want to fight against and work for, and just something to think about. And come on guys, if Uma can get buried alive in Kill Bill Volume Two and then thrive, I'm confident that I too can escape being buried by doom (represented by sand) any day. And if not, I'm going to die trying.

Ah, and with that, I'll leave you. The next show's experience promises to be very different. Hopefully you'll consider sharing in the next "Midsummer" evening?

I Left My Toothbrush in New York City

I recently left the winter weather of San Francisco to return to the heat waves of the East Coast. After seeing my family and friends, attending a concert entitled Hippiefest, and going to a wedding that did not involve a Tony or a Tina, I visited my old home: NYC.

While the trip in it's entirety only lasted about twenty four hours it proved to be an amusing and awakening adventure. When I left the city on Harry Potter's Birthday in 2007 (that's July 31st for you creeps who aren't up on it) to move to California I felt like I was leaving prematurely and feared that I wasn't truly ready to abandon my New York life.

I had originally moved to NYC after I graduated from college. It wasn't a place I always dreamed of living in to tell you the truth but as a 21 year old actress looking for a life on the stage, it seemed like the most logical place to go. Earlier in the year, while I was still in school, my friend Dave and I took a night off from tech week for our acting senior project to venture to New York to audition for graduate programs. But because of the strain of our play and the stress of trying to complete senior year, we both bombed the audition. I can say that now without wanting to cry but seriously guys, it was probably the worst audition of my life. I remember leaving the audition room in a daze and walking out of the building alone with no idea of where I was or where to go. Both in a literal and figurative sense. I let the streets pass me by as I numbly tried to convince myself that I hadn't just thrown my life away. (Side note: our senior project went well and we both got A's in the class. The picture here is from that show, "The Fox".)

Luckily, Dave called me after his audition and we commiserated and attempted to drown our sorrow over pizza. I would come to later learn the real healing powers of good New York pizza. While we sat consuming our slices, a man from outside made eye contact with me and entered the restaurant. He sat in a corner and continued to observe us as we both tried to cheer each other up from the disaster that was our morning. After a few minutes the man approached us; we both probably assumed that he was going to ask for money but he stopped before us and showed me what he had been working on in the corner. It was a picture of a crowd. All different types of people standing still and gazing out from the page. And then I saw it. I was there in his crowd. He pointed to the sketched version of me and said in broken English said that he had wanted to draw me. Suddenly, through some very kind and thoughtful strokes, was a new me standing beside other New Yorkers. It was within that moment that I decided to move to NYC after I graduated. Perhaps all I needed was to see that someone else could see me living there, I'm not sure. The man walked away and we finished our lunch, simple activities that forever impacted my life.

Dave and I both moved to NYC together a few months later and ate more slices of pizza than I can count. I went to more auditions. I met new people. I walked hundreds of miles through all five boroughs. I made a life for myself that I was pleased with for sometime. But I also couldn't help but wonder if there was something else for me to try out in the world, perhaps another crowd of people to associate myself with, and when the opportunity came up to move to California, I took it knowing that I would have to move 3,000 miles away from my city family for a place in which I knew not one soul without any guarantee of happiness.

I think you all know that story by now. And you know how things turned out. I believe I made the right choice but whenever I travel back to the city part of me wonders what life would have been like if I had stayed. There isn't a day that passes where I don't miss my friends that still walk those city streets or the possibilities that can unfold in one day of life there. So while I knew the visit would be a quick one I was grateful to have the opportunity to spend the day in my old stomping ground.

I met up with my friends over margaritas at one of my favorite places in the city, Blockheads. It's a great place to sit outdoors, dine with Broadway stars, and enjoy cheap but strong margaritas. It proved to be an evening full of many laughs and I'm beyond grateful to have had those few hours with such wonderful company. I later returned to Queens with my pal, Matt, and along with writing offensive comments on my facebook wall he graced me with his hairstyling abilities. I went to sleep that night in his air conditioned room with crazy hair and a warm heart. The next day we spent some time walking around the city before I had to catch my bus and I realized that I didn't feel anything "new" about New York. The city continued to be a place where I felt comfortable and content but lacked challenge for me. For a place that seems to be under constant renovation it hadn't really changed. And I think I have. There will forever be a little piece of myself that belongs to NYC but for now, I think my heart is truly in San Francisco and that's where I'm going to leave it.

A few hours later, I said goodbye to Matt at Port Authority, happy for the time we had and for the reassurance that I think I'm where I'm meant to be for now... as he walked away, it dawned on me that I had left my electric toothbrush on the windowsill of his bathroom. I was absolutely bummed to have forgotten it but I suppose it's a small price to pay for everything I took away from the city. So enjoy my toothbrush, Mr. Ravey, it'll have to be the only part of me in NYC for a little while as I'm back in California now and anxious to find a new way to keep my mouth satisfied without the city's pizza and margaritas.