Out of the Empire, Into the Garden

Hello, my six loyal readers! Did you miss me?

I'm back in New Jersey again. I was here two weeks ago for a few days, then went up to Newburyport, Massachusetts for a HUGE Irish family wedding, then headed straight back to the city where I remained until this afternoon when I returned to New Jersey again, going straight to a dinner with the mother of my best friend from grade/high school who is getting married on the 4th of October. I'm in the wedding party and we needed to discuss "business," as it were. And if the date, October 4th, seems familiar for any reason, it's probably because I may have mentioned that's the EXACT DAY I AM FLYING OVER TO ENGLAND. I go to the wedding, stand for pictures, do one hour of cocktails, then dash to the airport to make my boarding time. A friend of mine said, "Sounds like the beginning of a romantic comedy to me." I sure hope so, but Clive Owen is already taken, and anything else will just be a disappointment. Be that as it may, the agenda for that day, rushed as it is, pretty much seems to echo what's going to be happening for the next month and change--one thing after another, right up until I fly away. It's kind of overwhelming, but part of that I think has to do with the fact I haven't had a chance to really sit down and look at my schedule totally fleshed out. I'm coming in blind, and that's always stressful. And stress is not something I should be readily subjecting myself to, especially given my surroundings.

My parents recently moved to a small condo from the house I spent most of my formative years in, biding time and saving money on property taxes till they move into Another house that they'll stay in for a few years until they retire in Georgia. It's a cute, temporary home, and everything seems to fit pretty well, although I still have several boxes stacked in my two closets. (That's right, New York apartment dwellers: TWO closets. In my bedroom. Built in. Go ahead: Weep.) There's a teeny yard out back, and I look forward to sitting out with my beloved cat, Pirate--who is so much better than bully Luke Skywalker back in the NYC apartment--taking jogs out to the nearby reservoir, visiting local farmers' markets, driving again (despite the price of gas), and visiting the mall for goodness sakes.

And yet, with all of these pieces of goodness, there is lack of contentment. It's the human condition--what can you do? I'd be lying if I didn't admit that after fourteen hours of being here on my first day back that I was utterly, completely, and seemingly hopelessly B-O-R-E-D. Coming back from the city every year during undergrad became a sort of experiment in tolerance to change in environment, a large factor being what time things close around here:

LEA:
"What do you mean I can't get an everything bagel, toasted, with veggie cream cheese and lox delivered to me? It's only 1AM! No, no--What is your problem, guy?!"

The hazard of the suburbs is of course the "family factor"--everyone has one, or they're looking to, and so to support this they keep hours that would be acceptable for living such a life. And so every store closes at 6PM (occasionally 9 on the weekends), lights go out along the highway at restaurants and bars, and most parties break up around 11PM. This is terribly contrary to Big City Living.

The town I'm in is also basically comprised of one strip of road off a major highway (not the Turnpike, you jerks) that contains the following: a church, complete with graveyard; a door store--barns, domestic, etc; the Dollhouse Factory<--this may be the most fascinating part of this town, and I will try to explore tomorrow; a motorcycle shop; a mom and pop establishment that may be a staple for breakfasts over a copy of the Courier News or Star Ledger (I have yet to find the Times in any "local" establishment); a pricey yet atmospheric resturant called the Lebanon Hotel, that has its own tavern, the Fox and the Hound; a Stewart's; a lot of houses.

That's pretty much it.

But moving away from these suburban dulldroms, I do have some progress to report in terms of moving to John Bull's Island.

1. At a recent dentist's appointment I found out that despite having not had a cleaning or formal dentist appointment in over two years, I had no cavities! Hooray! This is especially exciting, as it proves that I can take care of my teeth reasonably well, which will be very important given where I'll be living next year. "Land-of-Notoriously-Bad-Dental-Care" here I come!
   
2. I FINALLY FINISHED MY ON-LINE VISA APPLICATION. And I paid for it. I'm $220 less rich than I was before, and I have an appointment at the visa office in NYC next Thursday (when I'll be back in town--"Transitory" is my middle name!). More on gathering the appropriate paperwork for said appointment in the coming days--I promise!
   
3. Housing has been confirmed and the deposit has been paid-->15 GPS non-refundable processing fee, and a 250GPS deposit for my space. If you want to see my digs, take the virtual tour here. It comes with its own electric kettle!
   
4. The exchange rate has gone down! Not by much, mind, but every little counts. Back in April it had gone up around $2.11 to the pound, and now it's down at $1.86. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it adds up--trust me. And it made my day.
   

I'd stay longer and continue to wax philosophical, but it's late here in the near-wilderness, and not even Turner Classic Movies can entice me to stay up. More about feelings another time, if at all. We all know I hate that. Well, you six do, anyway.

You six. You know.

General Update--Housing, Lighting, and Robots

So I've been gone for a bit, and I apologize to my five loyal readers. Here's an overview of what's been going on...

I got word just yesterday that I got housing one of the University of London's Intercollegiate Halls, College Hall. Uni of London is associated with Central, and so housing is available through them to wayward students like me. The cost is going to come to 25.80 pound sterling a night, making that a little over $1,500 a month in American money. Yeep. But the savings really comes in the fact that the Hall also provides two meals a day, and since food is usually where I pour all my money into anyway, I'll at least be able to cut costs there. And finally having housing also means: I can finally finish my visa application.

It must be said that the only reason I applied at all is because my roommate had the gumption to go hunting about the university's website and found out about it, which leads me to ask the question: if Heidi wasn't around, would I actually be doing any of this myself? I worry that the answer is "no," and am ashamed at the codependency this process has brought out in me. In the process of applying, at some point I said to Heidi, who's been having some of the same misgivings as I about this journey, "I think one day we're just going to have to suck it up and accept that we're really going." And maybe that's the problem: the MAJOR DENIAL permeates still. But let's save the psycho-babble for my therapist, shall we? I think it best, yes.

I have been spending most of my time the past few weeks--hence the length of my absence from my blog--running tech for my theatre company's show, A Devil Inside.
It's a good little play with a hilarious script, and a couple truly stand-out performances. I was running lights for the show, as well as projections, and I have to tell you: as an actor, nothing is more painful than watching other people act, knowing you're not allowed to join in the fun. Being an audience member is different--you appreciate your role in that piece of theatre as being more separate from the production. But being involved, but not in the way you'd prefer is...painful. There's no beating around the bush. While I really love those people, I'm happy the play is over, because my ego needs a different kind of stroking all together. A huge part of doing this kind of work that is hard for me, is that it feels so cut off from any creative process. The design was set--the cues were even being run off a laptop (as were the projections), so I didn't have to adjust anything by hand. It was kind of mindless. In an effort to feel like I was doing anything to serve the action on stage (such an actor...), I tried to look at the timing of the lights and projections as having it's own part in the dialogue, that they were helping to shape the narrative to a story similarly. I genuinely think that they do. And on a good day, that was enough. But for someone who's been trained as an actor for so long, and who's had a substantial break from her last acting challenge (four months is like an ETERNITY--GPS units do not constitute a challenge), and who's waiting around to go to school for acting--I'm like chomping at the bit, people!

It got frustrating. I told myself this would be a good way to find out if I could do all aspects of theatre with an open heart and enthusiasm. Well, I've found out: I cannot. I do not like this thing, and have no intention of ever doing it again. Unless it's for money. And I mean A LOT of money. Or for the sake of my own, or a loved one's piece. But they better be taking me out to a lobster dinner afterwards. ("For serious.")

So yes--lesson learned, and I hope you don't mind that par-can shining in your face.

Luckily for me, through all this mental stress of reality knocking on my door with a batteringram, escapism only costs about $11.75 in Manhattan. Consequently, I've been able to catch the new Pixar movie, Wall-E, a couple times, at a minimal cost. And for the second viewing, my ticket was bought for me. W00t!

I should take a moment and say: I love Pixar. It is one of the few production companies I would love to work for in any capacity (Though that may not be completely true, considering the above revelation re: backstage work. I'm too glory hungry.). Any company that holds contests for dressing up the ugliest and whose executives have offices that are full of toys sounds like the place for me.

Wall-E is all around great for lots of reasons (I could seriously go on FOR-E-VER), but chief amongst them are the elements of classical clown the lead character has about him. Watching this little robot is like watching a Charlie Chaplin movie. The discovery and curiousity, the physical specificity, the optimism--it's all there. And of course there's nothing like watching something that isn't human experience things like love and self-sacrifice, to remind you what's best about your species and (you hope) your own existence. That's the whole point of Ariel recognizing that Prospero should show the royals mercy at the end of The Tempest, right? (Ln. 23) I wonder if I'll be able to create something like that while at school, something to remind people of their own humanity. We shall see.

Other than that, work has been a little crazy, I start training my replacement today, and I have (of course) been neglecting my TT homework. And I move out most of my things this coming Sunday, so that's...stressful. And I'm not packed of all. Of course.

Help, please.