On Sunday evening I had the opportunity to see the Euripides’ The Bacchae at Shakespeare in the Park. As I entered the open-air theater, I was reminded of the amphitheaters of ancient Greece. The air was sweet and warm and the play-space vast and mysterious, a single plume of mist sprouting from a large crack in the stage, leaving me with a sense of foreboding and mystery.

As I took my seat, I recognized a familiar face. Jonathan Groff (familiar to musical theater fans for his turn in Spring Awakening) was roaming the stage and ritualistically preparing it in the role of Dionysus. He pulled various articles from a large case and placed them about the stage. He also washed an animal’s severed head and mucked about in the shallow pool of water that ringed the front of the stage. Lastly, he dressed himself in jeans, a white shirt and a leather jacket, taking on a sort of a James Dean quality, simultaneously winning and dangerous. His portrayal successfully evoked those facets of the god and was only set off course at times by Philip Glass’ disjointed vocal compositions.

James Conklin’s set was both abstract and reminiscent of ancient Greek theatrical architecture. I felt the history behind his choices, while at the same time the streamlined modern lines of the silver play-space gave the impression that I would see something fresh. I loved the fact that the whole production was set on the top of Semele’s grave, placing importance on the fact that the very godhead of Dionysus was at stake in the telling of this story. There was also a fantastic visual moment where the grave burst into flames at the back of the stage. I wondered if this was necessary, but it did make for a very unusual stage picture.

The most exciting part of the piece for me was David Neumann’s choreography as executed by the chorus of Bacchan women. They traversed the stage in rhythmic punctuation that had the curious ability to seem organic while invoking the original performances of ancient plays wherein the chorus stomped across the stage in large shoes to emphasize the rhythm of the verse lines. Conversely, Neumann punctuated the rhythm of the verse with shapes and changes in tempo of movement rather than relying on the drudgery of stomping. Neumann’s choreography was the heart and soul of this piece and was no less than magical when it came together seamlessly with the design and the text, as in the moment where the women washed themselves in the pool, lit only by dim lights shown through the shallow water.

The costumes, by Kaye Voyce, were at times unexpected, as in the choice of glittering pants for the prophet Teiresias, but always worked with the style of the piece. Her color choices brightened the stage and brought a wild vivacity to the chorus that is not always present in Greek drama.

JoAnne Akalaitis’ direction was hit or miss for me. There were moments where I wasn’t exactly sure what I should be looking at which can be a challenge when it comes to shows with a lot of ensemble members in a large space. Rocco Sisto’s turn as the Messenger at the climax of the production was heart rending and dynamic, but I felt the presence of the women on stage almost overshadowed his brilliant performance. In addition, there were some strange homo-erotic moments framed very prominently between Jonathan Groff as Dionysus and Pentheus, played by Anthony Mackie. I wasn’t sure that these were supported by the script which is why they stuck out to me as an imposed choice made by the director. Perhaps it was an attempt at showing that Dionysus’ enchantment was taking hold of the King of Thebes? In any case, I wasn’t clear as to the purpose of these moments.

This brings me to a problem I have always had with this play. How are the Bacchan women both there in the palace of Thebes and out in the hills with Dionysus simultaneously? It just doesn’t make sense, especially when used so loosely in the case of this production. Akalaitis often placed them in beautiful shapes around the stage, but I sometimes wished that the principle actors could have had more focus. I admit that some of these issues stem from the script itself rather than the direction of the piece, but I almost felt that the director ignored them rather than contending with them, leaving her audience at a loss.

People don’t go to a Greek drama for a wild ride, so to complain about the pace of the show would be poor form. However, I felt that the end of the show was a bit lackluster. I enjoyed the performance of George Bartenieff as Cadmus in his charmingly befuddled scene with Teiresias, played expressively by Andre de Shields, but the end of the play took a leaden pace and dragged his work down. Joan Macintosh’s Agave was a bit wooden for my tastes. Agave is a character that has to win over the audience in seconds with the tragedy of her mad plight. Not a moment can be spared with a lack of specificity. With this portrayal of Agave, I found I didn’t feel anything, despite the fact that she was dripping with gore and holding a semi-life like rendition of her son’s severed head.

This brings me to another pet peeve of mine. When you cannot actually show something on stage in an extremely realistic light, as in sex, murder, or death, it is best to abstract it. I found myself assessing the poorly rendered dead body of Pentheus instead of paying attention to the acting. If it had been abstracted, I would have at least been thinking about the artistry of the actor’s relationship to a choreographed and designed moment rather than the fact that I didn’t believe the realism of the fake body on stage.

As for Phillip Glass’ score and vocal compositions, I found them well performed with little substance. The performers blended well and shifted dynamically as one but to what purpose? I found it strange to be at such odds with Glass’ music because I love his movie scores. The Hours and The Truman Show would not be the same without his pulsing, persistent musical scores. Here, Glass was so amelodic that I sometimes lost the direction of the spoken lines and became a bit confused as to what was being said by the chorus. If it hadn’t been for Neumann’s choreography, I might have been lost altogether.

Although it had it’s problems, Shakespeare in the Park’s The Bacchae was a very visually gripping rendition of a difficult Greek drama. The show runs until August 30th. For more information on this production see: http://www.publictheater.org/

O-Cast© is blasting ahead at full throttle. The pilot trilogy (Episodes 1, 2, and 3) have been completed and the cast assembled to read through it last Thursday. I simply couldn’t stop beaming. We are so blessed to have so many phenomenal performers on this project and they all make me laugh, which assailed my biggest fear of the script not being funny. Let’s just say I don’t think we have to worry about that. It was such a treat to watch them bring Bryan’s and my work to life before our very eyes. [For a cast list see the O-Cast© tab at the top of the site]

We are also humbled by a fabulous group of designers, including another Purple Group 2004-2005 favorite, Ellie Famutimi who will be doing our costume design. I knew she was the woman for the job as soon as we started writing. She’s no stranger to bringing archetypes to life and and her work is always stunning. I’m so excited to see how she realizes these characters. Mary Catherine Moore, our set designer/dresser, led the group through a discussion of what would be on their “dilapidated Olympian thrones” which left us all intrigued and in stitches.

To top everything off, Rachel Mann, our Director of Development, walked us through the plans for “The Olympian Orgy” at Sin Sin Leopard Lounge. All proceeds from the event will benefit our production and are considered tax deductible donations. The event will be fabulous and will not only showcase our promotional photos of the cast in costume, but will also premiere some video of the characters as well as our opening animation sequence. We’ll be hosting artists who will be painting and drawing live during the event and raffling off the fruits of their labors after midnight. We also have several other raffle donations in the works including mounted photo-poetry pieces by Leah Johnston and some tickets to various theatrical events around the city. The owner of Sin Sin is ecstatic to host our party and secured sponsors who created our very own “Shots of Immortality” which will be passed out for free at the event as long as supplies last. There will also be other half priced drink specials. We’ll also be having our very own all-$1-bake-sale featuring a cake by The Neon Squirrel Cake that promises to be a hit! The party is on September 10th, 2009 and starts at 8 PM. Here is our teaser promo art and party blurb:

Attention mortals! Come party like a God at the Olympian Orgy at Sin Sin Leopard Lounge on Thursday, September 10th at 8PM! Dionysus will be serving ambrosia as Apollo’s DJ’s, artists and photographers rule the night. Dance with Aphrodite and win great prizes at Hermes’ raffle at one of the hottest spots in the East Village to benefit the upcoming web series O-Cast!

It is really incredible to think that this whole thing started about a month and a half ago. Bryan and I were restless and sitting in his room in Bushwick wishing we had a way to express ourselves. Now we are heading up an army of incredibly talented artists who all deserve a platform to showcase their talents. I’m so proud and so humbled by all of it and the best part is that there is so much more left to come. My brain feels like a million sparks are going of at once, and it’s a great feeling. I’m learning so much about the production side of things which is very new for me. I think we’re all learning a lot from the project and it promises to be a very fulfilling project.

To stay in the loop, join the facebook group!

The mothers of my adolescent group of friends used this analogy frequently when advising us on how to be engaging young ladies. We laugh about it today, but it still stands true.

Two summers ago, I was in a “me” place. I was worried about my future in New York City and my long distance engagement. I didn’t seem to have any room for anyone else, but of course I didn’t think about it that way at the time. I just focused on my own problems, obsessions, and neurosis.When I went back to New York City, I needed a place to stay for a few days before my apartment became available. My friend Pam had offered to let me to stay with her when I first got there because she had moved there a few months prior and we hadn’t seen each other in a while. I had gone to school there and was used to it but she was still adjusting. However, when I got there I found that there was an odd silence between us as we rode in the cab to her place.

It was so palpable that I finally asked what was wrong.

“You realize you haven’t asked once about me, right? How I’m doing? What I’m doing?”

My heart dropped into my stomach. I opened my mouth to protest but I couldn’t. When I really thought about it, I hadn’t inquired after her in atleast a month. “I’m sorry,” I stammered shamefully.

“It’s ok. I’m just… You know that’s not cool right?”

My mothers words from so long ago echoed in my head. “No. I mean yes. That’s not cool. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ve just been so crazed… and yeah, a little selfish. Just nerves and stuff.”

Pam looked out the window of the cab. She seemed so distant. She’s been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister and I couldn’t believe that I had hurt her so thoroughly, not to mention the fact that I had been so self involved I hadn’t seen this coming. She had called and asked after me, listening carefully to every development, every description of a fight with my boyfriend. Why hadn’t I asked about life in New York and her new job? “But you know you did that, right? You’re not just oblivious? I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not like that.” I ventured. “I mean, I don’t doubt that I was.” I felt myself tearing up as we arrived at her apartment in Brooklyn. I was so utterly embarrassed. We trundled up the stairs and entered her studio. “I just had a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” She offered me some water and we sat down at the dining room table. “I would ask about how you were and you would go on and on. You didn’t even ask about me. I just couldn’t believe it. I needed you.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, rather at a loss when considering what to say. I knew immediately that I had done a bad thing as soon as she brought it to my attention.

I mention this story, because Pam is still my best friend and my “sister.” We managed to get past all of this and now things are back to normal. She’s the person I turn to when I’m upset and I try to be there for her in that same way. Because of what happened between us, I am especially aware of conversation and my active investment in my friends, but I am also aware of when my investment in my friends is being abused as I had abused her.

I’m lucky to have a friend with so much history because if we hadn’t, she might not have seen any reason to invest any more time in the relationship.

Living in New York, you come into contact with a lot of people; you network, you meet people at your job, you bump into acquaintances on the subway. There are so many people that walk in and out of your awareness each day that it can be hard to keep track of them. You have to make a concerted effort to make time for the people who really matter and it is important that you choose those people wisely.

I been thinking recently about how difficult it is to make time for all of my friends and because of that, I’m developing very intense feelings about the people in my life who truly know what the two-way-street of friendship means, and those who take me for granted. I don’t have time for those people, especially in situations where I have so little time to waste. Perhaps it’s harsh, but it’s true.

My advice: When it becomes clear that someone calls only to talk about themselves and their problems, move on. When they treat you like you’re around to listen their problems but never want to hear out your possible solutions, tell them to take a hike. Tell them to find a therapist or a mirror and do their thing.

Focus on friends who seek your counsel and work towards results. Seek out the friends that notice when you’re not yourself. Save your time for the people who enter your life and both of you are changed forever by your companionship. Those are the people who are worth your time.

Where’s the love? One woman told her husband that he would have to fall back in love with her after the wedding was over. Good luck getting him to the altar.

I don’t mean to imply that I want to be married today or even next year. That’s a bit like putting the cart before the horse considering I haven’t found a groom yet. However, this program does make me think, Where in God’s green earth are these people finding each other?

I understand how bitchy women end up with men for a night or a few weeks, but how can people propose to them? Even if she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, it’s the rest of your life. Find someone just a bit more mellow. The sex could be magnificent but if you can’t hold a conversation, then you’re not going to make it very long. Call a spade a spade and hold out for what you want instead of caving to what that harpy is nagging you for. Grow a pair guys! Come on!

Coming off of the train wreck I call the end of my last relationship, I’m having a hard time getting out there again. I don’t like going out to bars and clubs. I stand by my belief that you’re not going to be in the right condition to meet anyone of substance in that situation. Plus I get nervous and sweaty and start using comedy as a defense mechanism. People have been known to call me a “female Jack Black.”

So where do you go when you’re a young actress living in NYC? Some people meet at work, but most of the guys I work with are gay, so where does that leave me? If they are straight they’re taken. Plus, I wouldn’t want to have anything happen to the chemistry of a professional ensemble due to sexual exploits and their occasional post coital awkwardness.

Once upon a time, I had a close friend tell me that men probably didn’t find me attractive because I’m assertive and funny.

“Men want someone they can take care of,” he said.

I’ve spent so much of my life haunted by that sentence. At first I was saddened and hurt by it. I obsessed over how unfeminine he must have thought I was. Now that I’ve matured I’m angered by this sentence. What’s wrong with a self assured woman? Just because you’re confident doesn’t mean you’re not a woman. This is 2009.

There has to be somewhere for the modern woman looking for a meaningful relationship to go. I’m not starting a manhunt or anything, but clearly I’m not doing any of the right things. I’ve heard that you don’t look for love and that it finds you, but sitting in my apartment certainly doesn’t do any good.

A friend of mine wants to go speed dating, but I’m not quite sure it’s for me. I don’t like the idea of paying a company to set me up on dates. I just wish love was natural instead of the “industry” it has become.

"Eat Your Heart Out" by Leah Johnston

At one time, I took a six week improv intensive at iO. Chicago between my freshman and sophomore years of college. I learned a lot while I was there but I spent most of the summer quaking in my boots. The form was complicated and confusing and I was in awe of the in-the-moment creativity of my peers. They were so smart and so current. I just felt like I was a broken grandfather clock with grinding cogs lumbering around with compact electric alarm clocks all primed to go off at the same time.

Over six weeks, we had six different teachers who were improvisers at iO. Each had their own team and some even directed or created other shows there. The best thing about the program was that all of the students were comped for every show at the theater. Every day I would wake up, work out, walk to class, do improv for about six hours and then I’d stick around all night with my team to watch shows at iO. It was best way to learn the form and all of its variations. It was also the best education in team work that I’ve ever had.

I saw some of the worst improv and some of the best while I was there. I think it’s absolutely true that longform improv can be a horribly derailed train or it can be the most brilliant thing you’ve ever witnessed. Yet, I found even the worst performances were interesting to watch. I was right there with the actors, urging them through some unspoken power- through a primal audience energy, to pick up the pieces and rebuild their scenes. The artform takes such simultaneous awareness of your partner and of yourself. Most importantly you have to concentrate less on what makes you funny, and more on what will make your partner’s job easier.

Agree to go in whatever direction your partner suggests. Don’t waist time arguing. Improvisers call this the rule of “Yes, And.” Always try to give your partner gifts. Don’t ask questions. Just tell them what they’re doing. Tell them who they are. You have to build the scene brick by brick. Establish an environment as quickly as possible. Create a relationship. Stay away from sex or fart jokes in order to keep things interesting. Don’t use women as sex objects so that you’re not tempted to fall into an “easy laugh” situation. It’s all about solving the puzzle of walking on the stage with no lines and using your minds, voices, and bodies in order to build entertainment. When a team assembles the puzzle quickly and accurately, it’s truly one of the most astounding things I’ve ever experienced.

The other great thing about the shows at iO is that many teams have created their own forms and broken away from the traditional “Harold.” One of my favorites was “Armando Diaz.” In this form, a person steps forward to announce themselves as Armando Diaz. He or she takes a suggestion from the audience and uses it to start telling a true story. The story doesn’t have to be funny, it just has to be honest. Then they step back and the other people on the team do scenes using the story as a suggestion. The scenes don’t have to be exactly from they story. They can be based on a word, a different take on a situation in it, anything. Suggestions in improv are just fodder. You don’t have to connect to them exactly. They’re just to help the actors go off of something to get their minds running. Then after about 3-5 scenes, Armando Diaz steps forward and tells another story using the original suggestion as inspiration. Then the other players do more scenes, etc. The best Armando Diaz show I was was when Charna Halpern, one of the founders of iO and a close friend to Del Close who was the creator of long form improvisation, did a guest appearance as Armando Diaz. For every monologue, she gave a small vignette of a moment with Del. It was an incredible performance not just because the improv was good, but because the monologues were a celebration of the man who planted the seeds that blossomed into this entire “movement.” I’ll never forget that night. Everyone who was there knew they had just witnessed something special. By definition, it was a “One Night Only” show, a moment we all shared and had not been shared at any time before and would never be shared again.

Another form I enjoyed was a group that took a suggestion and did a two act play based on it. It was such a selfless experience, each scene having to be built on its own and then the next scene having to be built upon the last in order to form a full story. The best part about it was that it didn’t necessarily have to be funny. It was all about building the story piece by piece. The best example I can think of was a night where they did a murder mystery. The idea in itself is funny because the ending was just as much a mystery to the audience as it was to the actors. However, there were also points that were sad or made you sit on the edge of your seat waiting to find out who the killer was.

My all-time favorite show to see at iO is TJ and Dave. It is also the hardest show to get a ticket to. Every Wednesday night, TJ Jagodowski and David Pasquesi stand on the stage and say “Trust us. All of this is made up.” Then the lights go dim. When they come up, what ensues is a 45 minute show starring just the two of them. It’s the kind of comedy that percolates slowly and takes as much time as it needs to come into full bloom. It requires such focus and teamwork and this particular pair is a killer combination. They’ve been working together for so long that they can work fluidly and creatively with ease. Again, it’s not always funny. Sometimes it’s sad or poignet, but it is a guaranteed incredible story telling experience.

At the end of my summer at iO, we all got to perform on the Del Close mainstage. I was completely terrified of that “moment of truth.” It was completely “sink or swim” at the end of a really intense training period with no second chances. My team spent so much time together in class and out of it. We had taken adventures on the weekends, going to museums and Cubs games. I even had everyone over for a “sleepover” party so that no one would have to make their way home late at night. We really bonded over the course of the summer. I think I was so self conscious at the time that I never let any of them know how incredibly talented and smart I thought they all were. Stepping out on the stage with them at the end of the summer was just such an honor. I simply wanted to support what they were doing and try not to worry about whether or not I got any laughs.

Our final show was a success. We fired on all pistons and I felt confident that I had given it my all and made my contribution to the end result. When the program was at an end, I knew I had learned a lot but I also was ecstatic to be back in the world of scripted theater. I felt like a sailer who had been lost at sea and was finally returning to dry land. I didn’t think I’d ever in my wildest dreams elect to do improv again.

I guess I didn’t know myself very well, because last night I put my name down on a class sign up list at the National Comedy Theater. The writer inside of me has really inspired me to return to that form as a way of accessing that part of my brain and exercising it. It’s such a great way of making yourself more aware of your surroundings and aware of what it is to listen and respond constructively in a collaborative creative atmosphere.

Until recently, I’d been so dead, so ambivalent about my surroundings and my world. Now, my brain has awakened from its hibernation period and is hungry for more. I intend to feed it.

Even though it’s inviting and accessible, this show does not compromise. For the first time this season, they had a classical ballet dancer on the show. Usually everyone gets a chance to dance in their style at one point or another, but I thought Melissa never would because they don’t do classical ballet as a style on the show. As judge and choreographer Mia Michaels put it during judging, you can’t fake classical ballet. It would have been easy for the producers to simply avoid doing a piece in that style, but instead they chose to confront it and to include a classical ballet routine from Romeo & Juliet. Not only was it breathtaking, but the audience and voter responses proved that viewers across America enjoyed it. It’s pretty crazy to think about a ballet piece being performed on the same stage as a samba and hip hop in one night.

I can absolutely say that because of this show I’ve developed such a respect for what dancers can do and what they can achieve and communicate. My room mate, who is a dancer, pointed out to me last night just how daunting the expectations are for these dancers every week. When I thought about it, I realized for the first time that not only are they expected to learn new styles outside of their own genre and pick up a maximum of three new routines every week, but they are also held accountable for their own solos which must be choreographed by them to be performed  in case they end up in the bottom three couples at the end of the voting period. Seriously, those kids must be exhausted. I want to make them milk and cookies.

The show’s executive producer, Nigel Lithgow, is often tooting his own horn and bragging about how marvelous the program is, but honestly, I’d have to agree with him, especially when it comes to this season. In other seasons, I’ve watched and been impressed by everyone, but there’s always someone that falters from week to week and I lose faith in them. I can usually predict who will be going home each time or at least come close to it.

This season is different.

Every Wednesday I tune in and I don’t even see a competition. I just see beautiful routines and innovative choreography danced by incredible young performers. My favorite routines have typically been choreographed by Mia Michaels and Sonya Tayeh, however this season I’ve been becoming a fan of Tyce Diorio who choreographs modern and Broadway routines for the show. Last night, he debuted a piece on breast cancer survival danced by Melissa and Ade. It was so breathtaking that it stopped the show in it’s tracks.

It’s almost overwhelming to watch all of these styles happening in one show, but each dance is better than the next. This season’s contestants have a lot to be proud of. I cannot wait to get tickets to the Top 10 Tour. I know they’ll probably be expensive, but it would be totally worth it to me to see them dance live. That, in itself, is saying something about how much these dancers have touched and inspired me because I never spend money on dance performances. I always spend it on plays, musicals, or movies.

Tonight was the show’s 100th episode and I’d like to celebrate it by sharing a few dances that I really enjoyed, not only this season but over the last five years.

(Some of the videos were removed from YouTube, so unfortunately these are the only two left.)

P.S. To support the Dizzy Feet Foundation, which funds dance educations for talented underprivileged kids, click here.

Up at the front of the chapel, I am standing at the pulpit. I am 18 and I am terrified. I inhale a deep breath, taking in the sea of my teachers and my peers, and then begin.]

“You’re gonna be a camp counselor?” Matt said in disbelief.

“Yup. That’s the way it looks right now.” I shrugged.

“Where?” He asked

“Camp Seafarer. It’s in North Carolina.”

“Camp Sea-WHAT?” Matt asked skeptically.

“Seafarer.” I said.

“Ha. Anne’s gonna work at Camp SEAFAIRY this summer.” He pointed and laughed.

That was the initial reaction I received from my friends last year when I announced that I had just been asked to be the director of the musical at Camp Seafarer, for girls, in Arapahoe, N.C. They were a little doubtful to say the least. They all saw me as a hopeless cynical drama/music geek who limited herself to only black attire. As far as kids went, some of my friends had seen a faculty child use a lacrosse stick to launch a graphing calculator at me. However, from my point of view, it seemed a simple task. I had directed a one act at Tabor and I didn’t think directing a show with kids could be that much harder. I might be an only child, but I had been a babysitter since age 10 and now I lived in a dorm. I figured that taking care of a cabin full of girls and living with them every day couldn’t possibly be that tough. I had no reservations when I signed my contract. What I didn’t know, is that I had just signed away my soul to Satan for two months of the summer.

I spent most of the first two weeks wondering what crime I had committed on God’s green earth that fate chose me to be a camp counselor. Everything seemed to go wrong. Not only was I accidentally welcoming people to “Camp Seafairy” on opening day. Oh no. That was the VERY LEAST of my problems. Southern drawls whirled around me and wafted on every breeze, while my Chicago accent sliced through the air. I was an only child stuck in a world of six hundred little sisters. Out of these six hundred girls, I looked after and lived with twelve thirteen year olds, obsessed with soccer, boys, and the fifth Harry Potter book, the thought of which made me ill. I felt like it would be impossible to make a connection with any of them. No matter how hard I tried to relate to their problems and advise them, it just seemed unnatural.

I was also in charge of directing “The Secret Garden,” a musical which the Camp Director selected because it seemed like a “cute” musical for kids. She had assumed it to be a nice little story about a little girl who plants a few seeds in some forgotten garden and learns how to fit in with her new family. However, the show really turned out to be about a rich hunchback haunted by the ghost of his dead wife and a little girl hardened by the death of her parents in the cholera epidemic who has to leave India and live in his lonely colossal mansion in the middle of nowhere. The show was entirely inappropriate for kids ages seven to sixteen, calling for English and Yorkshire accents and a lyric soprano, not to mention two strong male leads which would now have to be sung by girls. I heard 109 children audition for the show. Out of 109 girls, seventy five percent sang “Tomorrow” from Annie. Suicide was starting to sound like a good option. Things were only complicated further when I was told that I would not be allowed to make cuts.  So now, not only had I ended up with 109 girls that I had to fit into a musical with only 12 roles, oh no, one of them was a 16 year old girl with turrets syndrome and was constantly screaming obscenities during rehearsal. In short, it was musical mayhem, an utter nightmare. My jaw dropped as I realized that I would be spending three hours daily in room with 109 girls trying to sing high “C’s” only to return at the end of the day to a cabin full of thirteen year old girls arguing over something so entirely trivial as speculations on who would die in the next Harry Potter book. I wanted to scream. My co-counselors and I started to replace the word “camper” with “hell-beast.” In otherwords “You look horrible, what happened last night?” “Oh, I had a run in with a hell beast.” Or “I just got a call; The hell-beasts are on the loose in the drama building, I’d better go over there and take care of the situation.”

One day, I was contemplating how bad a life sentence in prison could possibly be, when I unexpectedly had to take one of my girls to the health center. I was walking across a bridge with her and I was trying to make her laugh in an effort to distract her from her discomfort. Judging by the smile creeping across her face, it seemed like I had been relatively successful in humoring her. As we walked, she reached over and put her arm around my waste, and I put my arm around her shoulders. She looked up at me in this picture perfect moment and said, “You are so cool. You’re like a big sister, but a cool one who’s funny and doesn’t mess with my stuff.” She grinned and I laughed as I realized that in her own little thirteen-year-old way she was telling me that I had reached her, that for her, I had made a difference in just two weeks.

It became so vivid to me, then, what I had been doing wrong all this time. I had been so focused on what wasn’t going right for me that I had somehow let myself forget about these kids. Yeah, from time to time, things got hard, smiles weren’t genuine, and the hell beasts annoyed me beyond description. Those things were all distractions. I had forgotten that in signing that contract, I was agreeing to live not for myself, but for six hundred wonderfully individual girls who needed me to help them grow and learn. From that day forward, I dedicated myself to these campers who taught me so much about the importance of selflessness. Before I knew it, I felt like I wasn’t working at all.

It was around that time when I called Matt Linton to fill him in on how things had been going. I told him how the summer had begun horribly but that lately things had been going well. I told him about how my girls thought I was cool. His take on the situation was succinct and simply put. “You’re soooo going soft,” he said. I was totally opposed to that. I most certainly was not going SOFT. I was just getting… sentimental. I…cared.

Ok, Matt. I was going soft.

I hate to admit it, but I cried on the last night of camp during the candle light service. I cried and cried until there were no tears left and then I cried again after the campers left while I was packing my own things to go home as I realized that my most meaningful memories weren’t frustrating rehearsals or trying to avoid teenybopper conversations, but the look on the faces of girls who were bursting with pride as they took their final bow at the end of the play, girls who reached out to each other and supported each other at every turn, and in knowing that I was behind their successes, lessons, and confidence.

Since the end of camp, as my room-mate can attest, I receive atleast two long distance phone calls a week and innumerable instant messages from my campers.

The other day, I received an email from Betsy, one of my campers who was in the musical. She announced that she had just gotten cast in the musical at her middle school and that she couldn’t have done it without me. She called me a hero. And for the first time, I felt like one.  I was a big sister… but a cool one.

1. Johnny Depp

Impulsive, mischievous, dark, and always with a trick up his sleeve, this actor has a talent for drama and comedy alike. He lights up the screen most in roles that combine these two aspects. It doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes.

The opening monologue from Depp’s film, The Libertine.

2. Kate Winslet

The well of her soul is open for her audience in every performance she gives. I am constantly surprised and never disappointed by her.

This clip is from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. This movie also makes my top ten movies list.

3. Meryl Streep

A legend in her own time, there is no challenge too great for this woman. Her idiosyncrasies never fail to bubble to the surface in every role.

This clip is from The Hours.

4. Dustin Hoffman

What a joy he is. I find his playfulness incredibly engaging. He also has the uncanny ability to disappear into a role when he wants and to stand out when he chooses.

The following clip is from Hoffman’s first film, The Graduate. It also happens to be, in my opinion, one of the greatest scenes ever filmed.

5. Dame Judi Dench

Her presence is enough to make my hair stand up on end. She is a commanding force to be reckoned with and even her strong characters are smartly crafted with just the right vulnerable cracks in their surfaces to keep things interesting.

The following is a compilation of clips of her Oscar winning performance in Shakespeare in Love.

6. Ian McKellen

One of our best Shakespeare performers alive today and the perfect Gandalf in Lord of the Rings.

This clip isn’t exactly from one of his best movies, but it is one of the funniest things I have ever seen and it happens to be Ian McKellen’s episode of Extras on HBO. Also appearing is Ricky Gervais, creator and original star of The Office in Britain.

7. Steve Carell

Steve is a master. He’s the kind of actor I aspire to be, a comedian of the soul. He is simultaneously honest, horrifying, and heartbreaking. He is a living miracle.

The following is a clip from The Office. I found better ones, but they could not be embedded.

8. Robert DeNiro

He always seems to have a secret. A talent for comedy and for drama just by being himself, he seems to know more than his audience.

DeNiro in Meet the Parents.

9. Sean Penn

I am always impressed by the characters this actor chooses to play. He always seems to be looking for a new challenge.

A clip of Sean Penn as Harvey Milk in Milk. Every moment the character was giving this speech, he could have been shot. Watching his delivery with that in mind gives it a whole new perspective.

9. Anne Hathaway
A lot of people may disagree with me on this, but hear me out. I think she has great potential and for her age, she is positioning herself perfectly. Her performance in Rachel Getting Married was nothing less than brilliantly mesmerizing.

The following clip is a scene from Rachel Getting Married.

10. Will Farrell

Again, people may disagree with me here, but I think it’s important to include comedic actors. Most of what Will does is improvisation, but some of what he’s done is unmistakable creative brilliance. His one man show, You’re Welcome, America, was nothing short of astounding. He was painstakingly specific in every moment and managed to make me feel pity for a man i despised.

A clip from You’re Welcome, America. If you watch it to till the end, I promise it will be worth your time and you may come closer to agreeing with me about him deserving a spot in the top ten.

(11.) Gene Kelly
He’s dead… but he’s so amazing that he gets to be my ghost 11th favorite Actor of All Time. His dancing, his voice, and his presence are the complete package.

To close, here’s Gene Kelly with Singin’ in the Rain

I want to scream sometimes, but propriety shuts my mouth. Responsibility makes me see my commitment through.

When the clock strikes 6 PM, I practically leap from my chair, tripping over my legs as I dive for the door. I dash home and open my lap top, finding all of my projects waiting for me as my brain sparks to life. The electricity courses through my fingertips and ideas buzz and beep all over my body. I am alive. I am whole. I am doing what I want to do, rather than what I have to do.

Suddenly it’s 2 AM and I must find a way to get to bed so that I can wake up in time to get back to work, back to being boring. The job isn’t hard. It isn’t even awful, but it still looms like this horrible black hole, sucking me in and depleting me of energy. Every day is like a Monday morning after a weekend you didn’t want to end.

There are never enough hours in the day. By the time I get moving with all of my artistic endeavors, it’s too late to get much done. I want to go to more auditions, but I have to be able to pay my rent every month. It’s a delicate barefoot dance on a floor of broken glass.

When does your day job just become your job? It’s a question all artists must ask themselves and they must be wary of the answer.

There are facts. You must pay rent. You must feed yourself. You must pay for electricity. You probably need money for entertainment and fun with friends once a week. You could live without that, but you’d most likely go insane.

When you are trying to work creatively, it often doesn’t pay from the outset, or if it does, it’s not very much. Right now, I’m having to make my money at work while simultaneously preparing my book, creating a webseries with a friend, and going out on auditions. Do I know if any of those things will make any sort of profit?

No.

If the book gets published, that would be amazing, but that doesn’t mean that it will absolutely make a profit. As far as the webseries goes, we’ll be lucky if we break even on it unless something miraculous occurs. As for auditioning, you have to get cast in order to make money, and even then, a lot of the plays you do at the beginning of your career are with people who can’t afford to pay you, or if they can it’s a negligible stipend.

That said, I have to make all of my money in my “day job” at the moment, which means that I have to be there so often that I hardly get time to work on my real job, my true purpose. I get home and my brain is humming, but my body is exhausted. It takes effort to think straight and coral my ideas into a cohesive thought process. I want to read a book and expand my mind. I want to write for this web column. I have to edit the current draft of my book. I have a script due on Wednesday to show to my collaborator. I need with every fiber of my being to do all of that in order to move forward artistically, but I’m drained. By the time I actually get sucked, body and soul, into any facets of my creative life, it’s too late to indulge my inspiration for more than a few hours.

Some people would say that when your day job starts to get in the way of your “real job,” that you should start looking for a way out. A lot of naysayers would reply with, “Why would you leave the job that makes money for one that makes a bit less money, or take two jobs that make less money but are more sporadic? I’ve go news for you. You already doing your real job.”

My response to them is that art is about risk, both on and off the stage. You have to believe that your art is your real job, whether or not it’s making money at that particular time. If you don’t, you run the risk of it becoming a hobby. George Seurat never sold a painting in his life, and yet he is known today as one of the main innovators of the pointillist artistic movement. He never gave up despite bad reviews and non-believers in his own time. He was somehow able to see his visions through and make enough money to get by. It was worth it to him.

If artists never approach the edge of that cliff and take a leap of faith, nothing will ever happen for them. It’s as simple as that old adage, “nothing risked, nothing gained.” Of course, it is hard to feel like going for that blind plummet, especially in this economic climate, but art still has to happen. My real “career” still has to be forged, even if it means reducing my hours at my “day job” and going out less on the weekends with friends. Like Daedalous and Icarus, I must fashion my wax wings and take to the sky, unafraid to fly towards the sun and hoping that by the time I reach it, my wings will transform into those of an albatross soaring across unimaginable distances.

Otherwise I’ll just become that boring person that I hate for 24 hours a day instead of just 8, and that would surely kill me.