News ...

It's been awhile since I've written anything about me. And seeing as how I'm a self-absorbed Aries, I have come to rectify this situation. However, It's 12:20 a.m., and I was supposed to be in bed 45 mins ago, so I'll make this brief.

Long Island by the numbers:
Flat tires: 3
Bottles of anti-freeze purchased: 1
Fingers smashed: 1
Ankles sprained: 1
Hockey games watched: 7
Trips back and forth from Shakes & Co. to The Hamptons: 4
Ferries taken: 6
Faeries on stage: 12
New songs purchased: 25
Books read: 4.5 (I'm in the middle one currently)
Different beers consumed: 15 (I think)
Cupcakes consumed: 10-12 (Best estimate)
Number of good sleep nights: 3
Games of Dodgeball played: 2
Celebrities seen: 2
Celebrities talked with: 1
Highways traveled: 15
Pizzas consumed: ??
Breakfast Burritos consumed: 4
Fires started: 1
Episodes of Freaks & Geeks watched: 4
Episodes of Little Miss Perfect watched: too many to recall (yes, it's really sad)
Episodes of 30 Rock watched: 3
Children made happy: 36
Faculty made happy: 9
Light cues written: 35
Live music themes created: 8

It was an adventure, that's for sure. The Hamptons aren't for me, but at least I can say now that I've been there. I did love the school - it's a truly special place.

I'm flying back to California tomorrow (if you're on the West Coast - Today if you're on the East) - Bradley International (CT) to Hopkins International (OH) to LAX (CA). The very next day I'm attending a grant workshop, and begin my attempts to start raising money for SOC and our production of King Lear. Wow.

On February 11th I'll be flying into Houston, driving to Baton Rouge, attending my best friend from High School's wedding (which I'm in!), and going to New Orleans. These places will all be firsts for me. More photo journalism will ensue. And when I say journalism, I mean not at all.

In other news, I've created a completely separate blog for Gay Rage. I figured that space between my life and the comic book in my head would just be easier to read for everyone involved. You can visit Gay Rage here:
http://rageinprogress.blogspot.com/
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The worst road trip EVER.

Okay. Maybe not ever. But it sucked. And here's why.

Part of this residency requires that we provide costumes for the kids of the program. This is obviously not something that we could have prepared for ahead of time, so we had to drive back to Shakes & Co.

We left The Hamptons on Friday afternoon, around 2:45 p.m., which was maybe not so smart. Friday + rush hour = just plain dumb. We drove the length of Long Island, and thankfully only hit traffic by Great Neck, which for those who don't know LI very well, is on the Western side, close to Queens, and is therefore practically a suburb of NYC. Anyway, we thought that this was understandable, and expected to clear traffic once we cleared the Throngs-Neck Bridge, which would skirt us past The Bronx and Yonkers, and all points North.

The traffic lasted for 2.5 hours. Kelley had to pee so badly, we had to exit blindly at New Rochelle at the "Ghetto Getty," as Allissa put it. I saw a car accident across the street, and a large man exit a hummer and start yelling at another guy in a van. The large man hit the white van from behind, but it looked like the van had just stopped, inexplicably ... anyway. There was lots of swearing. Lots of yelling. The cops finally arrived. The toilet at this Getty could have been something from a horror film, where the chanting incantations of some monster/serial killers name would materialize in the flesh and wreak havoc on New Rochelle.

This could only be an improvement.

Anyway, I asked to drive. And the traffic continued. And continued. We finally opted to take an alternative route, but not before we overheard part of a CB radio conversation over the auxiliary channel (we were playing our ipods) of the radio. It went something like this:

*gurgle gurgle* "your black ass!" *gurgle gurgle* "on the highway" *gurgle gurgle* "you don't like my truck?!" *gurgle gurgle*

Add in a Jamaican accent, and you'd just about have it. It was really hard to listen to the podcast we had been enjoying about the crappiest jobs the comedians and story-tellers were waxing funny about them.

So we finally made our circuitous way to the alternative route, which involved jumping on no less than 4 country highways. While I understand the awesomeness of GPS units, they kind of drive me crazy when they add 5 extra steps that are completely unnecessary. And give you the general 1,000 ft. area of an address, instead of the exact location. Ugh.

Oh. I should probably mention that our automatic volvo (the same one previously posted about with the tire problem) had lost its 5th gear. We couldn't really go above 65 mph at any given time without risking dangerous heat to the swiss cheese engine that was currently running. I swear that a hamster had been given the job of operating the engine in this car single handedly. And the hamster ran away. Far, far away.

On top of the missing 5th gear, neither the speedometer, nor the odometer were working ... most of the time. Occasionally when the wind blew a certain way, or a snappy song came on that the speedometer liked, we would have about 3 minutes of an operable speedometer/odometer ... and then it would fail again.

So here we are, driving on the back highways of Connecticut, no way to accurately judge our speed, except to not go faster than the fastest car, all the while struggling to stay below 65 mph so that the engine didn't over-heat and blow up; on highways without road lights. I don't know if any of you have ever been driving in New England, on the back roads, at night, without street lights - but it's dark. Crazy, dangerously dark. Add in some "Caution: Deer" signs, and we have ourselves a party.

We drive, and drive, and drive. Stop for gas. Note that the car is becoming more and more vocal. And start coaxing the car into just getting us to Lenox. I was not below petting the dashboard ... repeatedly.

We reach Lenox at about 10:00 p.m. That's 7.25 hours of driving a 4 hour route. When I finally parked the car in the company lot, it shuttered to a stop with a clang. It did what we had asked it to do; it took us to Lenox.

We have another company car now - a giant hunter-green buick with cushy seats, an operable speedometer/odometer, and an actual 5th gear. What it doesn't have ... is an auxiliary port for ipod listening enjoyment. Ah well.

On the plus side, we made it home in time to watch the rather droll and flat Golden Globes. Does anyone else think that Ricky Gervais was completely sauced?

And I made this fire!

"Ugg! Me make fire!! RAAAAAAAAARRRRR!"

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Long Island Adventures, Part I

Since I was so incredibly terrible at taking pictures in Canada, I thought I would make up for it by documenting my time in the Hamptons. We have quite a bit of free time on the weekends; this is an understatement. Every Friday is a half day at school, so after a relatively quick staff meeting, we're out by 12:30-12:45 p.m.

I know. It's ridiculous. We joke that we're on a paid vacation.

So when we left school, we went home. I changed into my pajamas, and I watched hockey, paid bills, chatted with my beautiful Monkey, bought a plane ticket, and made some quesadillas. My partners decided to go to Easthampton for a movie, so I was alone for most of the evening. It was needed.

From the Ferry...

Saturday is where things pick up and get exciting. And by exciting, I mean as much as they can be in Eastern Long Island. We drove to Sag Harbor and took the Ferry across to Shelter Island. While on the Ferry, we had about 5 people, from passengers to Ferry workers, tell us that our passenger side front tire was flat. We had had some trouble with this wheel the day we left Lenox to make the 5 hour drive. Once off the Ferry, we pulled over at a single-pump gas station and took a look at the tire. It was, indeed, quite flat. Like, *really* flat. We borrowed the gas station owner's tiny air-compressor in an attempt to fill it - but it wouldn't hold. Anything. So we check the trunk to see what we have; a full spare, and a broken jack (this is a metaphor for life, I think). The gas station owner told us there was an auto repair shop just down the road. We thanked him, and went on our way.

"Just down the road" meant more than a couple miles. In fact we didn't find anything until we almost reached the North Island Ferry. This is where we meet Jeff and Earl. There was a small white sign that read "Auto Body Repair," in front of a drive way and a drive that winded it's way past two houses back to a beat up shop. Old, discarded planks of wood, metal, and randomly assorted objects littered either side of the driveway. We were worried they were closed. Or quite possibly that we had landed ourselves into a trap consisting of angry Long Island Mountain Men that demanded a blood sacrifice. We felt more positive of the first, until Earl and Jeff came out of the shop, and became increasingly afraid that it was the latter.

Jeff fixing our tire, as Kelley (L), Earl (C) and Allissa (R) look on...

We got out of the car and introduced ourselves, or rather Kelley did, and Allissa and I finally followed, thinking it might be bad form to leave Kelley alone in this situation. Safety in numbers, right? So we meet Earl and Jeff, who turned out to be most jolly, and were very ready to help us. Not only did they put our spare on the car, but they told us to return in an hour. Jeff (who was the mechanic...) said he'd take a look at our tire, and see if he could patch the leak. We said, "awesome!" and toddled off in search of food.

We found food. It was good. We returned to Jeff, who was, in fact, able to fix our tire. He even put oil on our corroded rims, to prevent further disintegration, AND fixed our broken jack. All for the sum of $20.00. Jeff rocks! We didn't have enough cash on us, so he let us go to the Chase Bank down the street and get some. Without requiring that one of us stay behind as a security measure. We were all pretty excited by Jeff and his extraordinary generosity.

As a reward for our honorable act, the gods saw fit to bestow us with a half-used round trip Ferry ticket for the North Ferry. Which means .......................

That we went to GREENPORT!!! WOOOHOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"What's so special about Greenport?!" I hear you think. "What indeed!" I reply.

What I'm learning about the Hamptons, is that there are droppings of cute, quaint, and terribly small hamlets spread all around. The only things to do in these little bastions of civilization are shopping, dining, perusing real estate, and if you're REALLY lucky, there might be a movie theater. Going to the sea is also a major itinerary item, except that it's January, and there's snow on top of the sand. SNOW. Snow on a beach is just so wrong. And oh yeah. The wind. The wind is bone-chillingly wretched.

Anyway. The cool thing about Greenport were the signs of the shops. For example:

"The Doofpot" - "Uhm, hi, I'd like to buy a Doof, please."

"The Opportunity Shop" - "Yes, I'm looking for some opportunities. Can you help me?"

"The Coronet Soda Restaurant" - Soda Restaurant??

"The Whiskey Wind" - Need I say anything more?

Greenport also boasts an ice skating rink, a carousel, and a maritime museum. I actually really wanted to go to the Maritime Museum, but it was closed. It's a working-class fisherman's town, and had it not been -500 degrees Fahrenheit, I would have wanted to stay longer. (Okay, it was 8 degrees. But good GOD it was cold!)

As a respite from the aforementioned frigidness, I went into a cupcakery called 'Butta Cakes. Here was this cupcakery, with a basketball game on a big flat-screen TV, and one of the best cups of tea I had had in a long time. I almost died. It was almost perfect; or at least would have been had hockey been on the television, and had the cupcakery been in Calgary. Though really, I can't complain. The perfectness of this place is even heightened when I reveal that my cohorts went into some girly, colorful, and (probably) over-expensive clothing store called Impulse. I wasn't having any of that. But cupcakes and televised sports? Hell yes.

The after-math of my cupcake adventure...

We re-met, and went to a bar called the Rhumbline for a couple of beers and a plate of cross-cut fries. More televised sports in the form of The Jets vs. The Bengals. The bar was crowded with Jets fans, cheering at any little thing The Jets did well. First Down? Massive cheering. Defensive tackle? cheering. The transition between offense and defense? More cheering. One of the locals (I presume) walked by us on his way to go smoke, and asked who we were cheering for. All three of us at once: "The Jets, of course!" He walked away laughing and smiling. We looked at each other and exchanged glances of, "Yeah. We weren't born yesterday."

After our two beers, we needed to leave for our dinner invitation at one of the teacher's houses. My partners wanted some cigarettes, and had learned from our bartender that the dive bar next door (The Whiskey Wind) had a cigarette machine. We walk in, Kelley and Allissa buy their pack of smokes for $9.75. I find it unceasingly hilarious that both of my partners are smoking vegetarians, and that I'm the non-smoking super carnivore. Oh Life, you never-boring friend! Anyway, next to the cigarette machine, there was an email console. So that any bar patron could check their e-mail while they drink. Why? Who knows. But it needed to be documented:

Allissa checking her e-mail. At a bar. Awesome.

Took the Ferry back to shelter island and had a lovely dinner with the teacher and her Swedish husband, who poured copious amounts of alcohol and kept insisting we eat more. I don't think I've been that full ...ever. They were so lovely, and we had a lovely time. I received a phone call that night from my Fall Festival partner, Kelly (Yeah, 2 Kelly/Kelleys and 2 Alyssa/Allissa's), that her boyfriend proposed on Christmas. Congratulations to Kelly & Ryan! They make me happy.

Today we had a ridiculous 1.5 hour drive to Westhampton (which should have only taken about 35 minutes), and drove through Southampton on our way. I also took pictures of our house for your enjoyment:

Our red front door...

The white living room...

My white (and messy) closet. Err, "room."

The white, snow covered swimming pool...

The white entrance hall...

I still wish it had a toaster.

By the numbers:

Hamptons visited: 3 (South, West, and Bridge)

Hamptons left to visit: 2 (East, North)

Ferries used: 4

Hockey games watched: 3

Flat tires: 2

Cups of coffee consumed: ??

Scripts cut: 1

Pictures taken: 30

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"Hippy" ain't just for Oregonians...

Let me tell you a little bit about the school I'm working at.

It's awesome.

When I was hired for this contract, I didn't think much about it at the time - it's on Long Island. Outside of Brooklyn, I had never been to Long Island ... and I didn't even realize that Brooklyn was *on* Long Island, until I was informed, and consequently embarrassed by this fact since I have actually been to Brooklyn, and I generally have a great geographic awareness of where I am.

I digress.

So Long Island. Here are the things that I know (or, really, assumed) about Long Island. Please bear in mind that all of my information (or lack thereof) comes directly from movies, books, and/or TV shows.

1. It's a huge suburb of NYC.
2. The Great Gatsby was set here - in "West Egg" (which isn't too far away from where I am...)
3. Det. Elliot Stabler from Law & Order: SVU lives in Queens - admittedly, I didn't realize that Queens was on Long Island until we drove through it to get here. Oops.
4. The Islanders Hockey team calls its home here - though again, I didn't realize this until I got here...truth be told, I don't think about the Islanders ... at all.
5. The Hamptons are here. I knew that before I got here. However, having never been to "The Hamptons," the only context I had for it was some far-off, mythological place that rich people go to on television. For all I knew, it was the Eastern American's equivalent of "Malibu." Though truth be told, I've never actually been to Malibu - for all I know it could be cardboard.
6. Camp Half-Blood is here, somewhere. (See the Percy Jackson & the Olympians book series)
7. There's a large Jewish population.
8. Long Islanders have an accent. (I have no concrete evidence of this, yet)
9. Long Island is less cultured/hip than its Big Brother, Manhattan. (Oh TV, how you generalize!)
10. Long Island, like it's name, is Long. Shocking, eh?

Clearly, I'm lacking some savvy. Pop Culture, you have failed me yet again. I shake my fist at you!

The school that I'm at is nothing like the stereotypes would have led me to believe. Why? Well, because it's unlike any school I've ever seen. Ever. Allow me to illustrate. They have about 35 kids - from ages 4-13 - in total. They have three major buildings: The school (which is about 7 class rooms), the kitchen, and the gym. The kitchen is huge - one class cooks lunch for the rest of the school every day. Everyone eats together, everyone cleans up afterward, and much of the produce/eggs are grown and raised at the school. Yep, they have a chicken coop. With chickens. We met them today, in fact.

The school contracted to have a Shakes & Co. residency every year for eight years. They literally drop everything for this program. The school has no delineated grades ... they meet in groups according to ages - 3-5, 6-11, 12-13 - however there is no hard rule regarding classes and ages - if a student is advanced and mature enough to be in the group ahead, then up they go. If a student needs a bit more time, then they stay. The measurement of success is not through competition and documented achievement, but by honest comprehension and teacher intuition. There is no administration - no principal, superintendent, dean, etc. In fact, several of the teachers are original founders. The school has a declared commitment to working closely with the Native communities on the island, and has also pledged a fierce diversity policy. The older kids are responsible for the younger ones, and are expected to help and foster relationships with them. Art is the core aesthetic in which the school is built; not only does S&Co. have a residency, but there are composers, dancers, writers/poets, puppeteers, and chefs. They older students are in what's called an "Apprentice Class" - which means that these 11-13 year olds are expected to participate in apprenticeships all over the island - at museums, art galleries, nurseries - whatever strikes their interest.

These are the most generous, open-minded, kind, and articulate children I've ever seen - and not in a pretentious or precocious way. They are sincere. And they are kids; not kids trying to be adults. They embrace each other (and us) in a way that I've never quite experienced, and I certainly count myself as incredibly fortunate to share a month within this community.

It's so incredibly cool, it could be West Coast. But the fact that it's here makes it even cooler.

In other news:

We have no toaster. I have, evidently, taken toasters for granted my entire life. Well no more, I say! Toasters deserve respect and applause. Untoasted English muffins are just *not* okay.

I notice that when I miss someone (like my beautiful and amazing girlfriend), I have a habit of clinging to things that remind me of them. For example, I have - two nights in a row - watched the only hockey games I could find on our limited cable - The Blackhawks vs. The Wild, and The Islanders vs. The Avalanche. Do I care about any of these teams? Not in the least. But I watch hockey with my monkey ... and since I can't be with her, I'll be with the hockey. Even if I don't care about the players or the outcome. Oh ... and the English Muffins I mentioned above, were purchased as a breakfast comfort food for the same reason. Yeah. I know.

Snow isn't that cold - but the freaking WIND is. I'm getting a little tired of wind.

My parents and my sister are in London right now. I could have been there with them, but I chose to be here. And while I don't regret my choice in the least, I wish I were riding in the Underground right now; for no apparent reason. Though if given the choice between London and Canada, I'll choose Canada every time.
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Hello, Long Island!

So we finally made it to Long Island, after a 24 hour period of crazy snow, bad road conditions, dead car batteries, and a crazy Australian GPS system named Victoria. Or Veronica. Or Virginia. (Really, any female V name will do...)

I don't really know what I expected Long Island to look like, but this wasn't it. It's quite ... rural. And affluent. All at the same time (Long Island is talented like that). We're staying in the town of Wainscott, which is right next to East Hampton, which is right next to Bridgehampton, which is right next to South Hampton. There are wineries. I mean, seriously, wineries?! Long Island? Huh. (Puts my Californian wine snob away) Interestingly (or not, as you prefer), many of the cities/names along the L.I.E. (The Long Island Expressway) are all Native names: Syosset, Manhasset, Montauk, Nissequogue, Patchogue - Wikipedia says the language of the Natives (which are tribes of the Algonquins) is Narragansett. I know, I know. I'm a wealth of information. Or, well, wikipedia is.

Also, Wainscott is named after town in Kent that was made famous in Dicken's Great Expectations. The town in NY was founded in 1665, which blew my mind for some reason. Why? I don't know. I clearly don't know my American History as well as I should. (Did I mention I've never been to Long Island?)

The drive down was long, but highly delightful. I have two really awesome partners ... Kelley and Allissa. We spent the drive singing, laughing, and making a rather extensive list of things we must do in the 4 weeks we're here. There is, obviously, a conflict of interest in that Allissa and I have similar names. Which can prove problematic for children, let alone adults. We had quite the awkward, laughing moment with the faculty of the school this afternoon, when they mixed us up, twice, after meeting us. We thought maybe we'd go with Rosencrants and Guildenstern, but that just might be too pretentious. And gross. I may just go with Lisa for the month ... no one but my family ever calls me Lisa ... but there it is. I'm taking one for the team.

We're at an incredibly awesome school, and I can't wait to meet the kids. Pictures of the cottage (oh, it's *so* totally a cottage!) and surrounding area to come forthwith.

Here is a list of examples from the list of excursions we decided we'd attempt to pursue:

Visiting Gray Gardens
Going to the seaside
Going to the wineries
Going to Montauk
Getting a Netflix subscription
Getting TWO Netflix subscriptions

(we lead exciting lives)
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