New toy and Iceland excitement part 1!

So I got a new toy recently, a drawing tablet that lets me make pictures right there on my computer screen! It's awesome and my hands are literally numb from how much I've been using it since I brought it home on Tuesday. The best part about it is that it was essentially free! I used a gift card that I've had since Septeber to buy it, and I'm really glad I did...


So to honor my upcoming trip to Iceland (EXACTLY ONE WEEK FROM TODAY! AHH!) I decided to use my new unnamed tablet to reproduce pictures of things I hope to see/experiance on my trip. Idealistically I hope to reproduce and post one picture a day until I leave, we'll see how that actually works out though...


To start us off here is a picture of the "grass houses" that I redid in a George Seurat-esq style (what can I say Sunday in the  Park with George is on repeat in my head)

My Version

The Original

Peter and the Starcatcher

The story of Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, I think it's safe to say, has been a staple of Western culture since it first appeared on stage in 1904. Peter, Wendy, Nana, Captain Hook and all of the other characters have entertained generations of children around the world, but one thing that I'm sure every kid has asked themselves at some point or another is "how did Peter become Peter?"


Eventually all those kids grow up, and they loose their sense of wonder, or at least they are supposed to.


Five men, however, seem to have defied the convention of growing up to forget about Peter, and instead they set out to answer the question. Two of these men, Ridley Pearson and Dave Barry, wrote a book called Peter and the Starcatchers which set out to tell the story of Peter Pan, before he was Peter. Then came along Rick Elice, Roger Rees, and Alex Timbers. These three decided to put Peter back where he belonged, on the stage.


Elice turned Ridley and Barry's book into a stage play, and Rees and Timbers brought it to life as Peter and the Starcatcher. 


The idea behind what they were doing seemed interesting to me, especially since I'm in that pivotal phase where I realize that I have to grow up and as such envy Peter. I didn't know if they would be able to pull it off, but the buzz about the show had been building, so on a whim I convinced a friend of mine to walk down to New York Theatre Workshop with me and see if they had any student tickets left, however, it was the very first night of previews and I was fairly certain it would be a no go.


Surprisingly it all worked out, and we somehow managed to get tickets in the second row of the intimate little theatre. We walked in to find a gold painted proscenium lined with pictures of the classic portrait of Peter Pan, and a rickety looking set comprised of wood planks. This is about the point where I realized the show would either be really artsy or really cheesy. I wasn't sure which I would appreciate more.


The cast then began to filter out onto the stage and interact with each other in a sort of pre show show. I'd seen this only once before, and was highly intrigued. Then the two directors, Rees and Timbers, came out and explained that not only was this the first public preview of the show, but it was also going to be the first complete run-through for the cast. "Wow, hopefully they don't screw up." "Yeah, but it'd be cool to say we were there if they did." "True." (My friend and I are obviously really nice people...)


I don't want to ruin the show for anyone so I'll skip the plot and just say this, the 12 actors (11 male and 1 female) all performed rather brilliantly the 50 or so characters, the dialogue was full of rapid fire wit, and as soon as you grasped the meaning of a scene the next one started, effectively keeping the audience enthralled and on the edge of their seats.


I enjoy a good show more than most people my age, but Peter and the Starcatcher affected me in ways that I didn't think were possible. I went into the show like most people probably did, full of wonder and envy caused by the boy who wouldn't grow up. When I left however, I was filled with pity for him, this poor boy who is forced to eventually forget all of the adventures he's had in order to preserve his childhood innocence.


This show wasn't just a great piece of performance art for me, I feel as if I grew up a bit myself while watching it. As weird and cheesy as it seems, by the time I'd finished watching the 2 hour and 45 minute show, I was somehow much more ok with growing up. It wasn't that I wanted to grow up, but I realized that the sacrifices one would have to make to stay a child just didn't seem worth it; poor tantalized Peter who simply wanted a family, seemed worse off at the end upon losing the person who acted most like his family, even though he'd now be a boy forever. His fate seemed more like a curse than a prize.


Growing up can suck, but staying a child forever seems like a far worse fate, and I find myself envying Peter less and less the more I think about it.


This is how a great piece of art changed my mind in just a few hours, interesting how things affect us in ways we'd never foresee.


Thanks for reading, and if you have time, I do highly suggest a trip to see Peter and the Starcatcher at NYTW.


Birdy

How I've been feeling lately... in song form

This is a song that kinda just explains what I've been feeling in my life.

When your sailing on the ocean to a place you’ve never been, 

When there’s no maps to guide you and your lost, but then again. 

The impossibility that there is something new out there, 

Something no one’s ever seen, 

And you could be the first to land there,

To hunt to walk to look to breath the foreign air. 

The impossibility the dreadful thought, the nerves the scare, 

And there’s nothing left behind you, 

Nothing to return to even if you really wanted, 

So you leave it all behind you 

And you wonder what will find you 

When you reach the land that may not even exist. 

You stumble forward blindly, 

Knowing not a single soul will save you 

But you must keep sailing forward 

Because discovery could be hidden by the morning mist. 

And it’s all a brand new journey,

And you feel that you're too young, 

At the same time you're ageing quickly, 

When you die what will they say that you have done? 

Will you fade back into the fog, the shroud of the unknown,

Or will your name your works your deeds live on, 

Inspired by the places that you dared to go?

Will they remember you? 

In years so far advanced that the world looks not at all the same, 

Will someone, somewhere look back and find your name. 

Or will you fade away to nothing 

Like the countless have before you, 

Will you leave behind your glory, 

Will your own courage astound you?

You'll never know until it's done.

For now your journeys just begun,

And so you must, you must sail on,

Through all of the impossibilities!

...

I don't know what I'm doing with my life, and sometimes that scares me.

Bad idea, or worthwhile gamble?

I am about to drop mad money. 


Money that I currently have saved up for one trip, but will be spending to reserve my spot on another trip, this one for class. I have no job officially lined up yet, and have no guarantee that I will be able to make back the money I am about to spend, not to even mention make the rest of the money needed to pay for the second trip. Once I give the school the money, there is no getting it back, so I keep asking myself, is this a foolish idea, an advantageous risk that I am about to embark on?


I have been saving this money for ages, and have never spent this much at once before, it's a new experience. How do adults handle it? My Anthropology professor would say that I am going from a safety seeking to excitement seeking position on life. How common is it to cross between the two, and once I do, will I be able to cross back, or find some happy middle ground? Who knows, but here's to hoping that good luck comes to those who seek it out.

Real life Room of Requirements

Like everything else in New York, the trees are fake. Especially here. Someone in the guest book called it a real life Room of Requirements. That is exactly what it is. A room filled with trees and grass and warm light, all helping you forget the blistering cold and quickly falling snow outside.


Here, the trees are extra fake, made of plastic, wires, and fabric. The grass shines as if wet, but in reality it is as fake as the trees, a dry plastic carpet cut into symmetrical strips pretending to be grass. The light comes from bright triangle lamps on the ground behind the trees, as well as small lights on the roof, and a few Lekos with purplish diffuser gels.


Speaker boxes in the corners produce sounds of birds chirping, while white painted brick walls with exposed electrics contain the square bean bags and wooden picnic tables, and keep the cold snow out.


Real, dry leaves and twigs surround the base of each fake tree as adults of all ages enter and remark on the astounding artificial environment. Kids, none quite old enough to talk, some too young even to walk, light up with smiles as they chase brightly coloured balls around the comfortable, fake, green, Room of Requirements. A forested haven away from the grey snow-dirt slush outside the front room, perfectly camoflouged in The City. The cold outside waits, but for now the small group of people enjoy their moment in the artificial park.

While we sit by the fire...

Utah. It's an interesting place. It's familiar, but not home. Since my parents moved here I have spent more time here than in Arizona.


Arizona. The land of my people. Home in my heart but, not in reality. This is were I spend the least of my time each year since I went away to school in New York.


New York. My home as far as time is concerned. I like it there, and grower fonder of it all the time, but it still doesn't hold the same weight with me as Arizona.


It's weird, because I knew as soon as I left, that I would probably never move back to Arizona until perhaps retirement. Arizona always has been and always will be my home, even if I don't live there. I brag about it all the time, I relate back to it in conversations, "Well, in Arizona, this is how we do it..." and I mourn when it mourns (such as now after the senseless tragedy in Tucson.)


All the time I spend in New York and Utah (aka away from Arizona) has led me to evaluate why I am so attached to Arizona. To me the answer is simple... it's the people I met there and the memories we share. I don't necessarily love Arizona because it's Arizona, I love Arizona because it is my connection to so many of the people that I love most.


This became more apparent to me this week. Three of my best friends from Arizona came up to Utah to visit me. It was the first time in nearly six months that I had seen any of them and the ease with which we picked up our relationship, as if I saw them every day, has made Utah feel a bit like home.


Together the four of us have cooked wonderful meals: eggs, pancakes with honey and jam, potatoes, and tea for breakfast, spaghetti, potatoes, garlic bread, baked brie, and Oreo milk shakes for dinner. We have planed out our days, and function just like a little family; each of us responsible for a different aspect of the groups well being. This is what home is to me, and this is why I love Arizona. Arizona brought me the people that make me feel at home.


Tomorrow I will be venturing back with my friends for a short visit to Arizona. my first since this last summer. I am looking forward not just to the warm sunlight, but also to seeing the people who continue to teach me lessons, inspire me, and make me feel at home despite the fact that they are often hundreds of miles away.


So now as I sit here bundled by the fire listening to the sounds of my friends it seems fitting to write. Another lesson learned on my journey to adulthood I suppose.


Have a great night and thanks for reading,
Birdy