I got a Pelican today!
What is a Pelican, you ask? ...Do you ask?
Yay! Pelican! It's orange!
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
e-leaves
2006: The End of Many Things
It is the beginning of April right now, just a few short sunrises since the infamous 23-hour Sunday—the first Sunday of every April. I am done my degree. It has been 8 days since I finished my final production at school & it has been a mere 5 days since my last university class this year, ultimately my last class for the completion of my degree. I am sitting here wondering what to do with my life, but before I go on that stream of consciousness, let me tell you about some of the things I have learned this past term
Prelude to A Dream...'s Ending
I only had two courses in my final term of University: Drama 492 (Running Crew Projects) & Drama 457 (Sr. Production & Performance). Both courses were special in that neither required a full term to complete & that both required intensive, time commitments. My 492 class lasted a total of 3 weeks, but it nonetheless contained the same amount of class-hours as a full-term course. 457, on the other hand, consumed more than twice the course hours as a normal class (hence why it's worth double in course weighting). It is this second class that I mostly want to talk about. And here's why.
At the beginning of this year, I was quite uncertain as to whether I would be accepted into 457 or not, for a variety of reasons.
Reason #1: The class unofficially has an entrance requirement of students to have achieved a B+/A- cumulative average within the Department of Drama: a very difficult thing to achieve, since the departmental average floats around a C/C+, yet it wasn't something that I was worrying about until I got my marks back from the previous term. Ironically enough, my super-disgustingly-overworked term-of-death in Fall 2005 had taken its toll on my academic/dramatic performance, leaving me at just on the edge of the B/B+ departmental average line.
Reason #2: As of January 4, 2006, 12 of the 13 people enrolled in the course were females, and the nature of the course as it is, it would have been beneficial either for a homogeneous gender distribution, or for a more even gender spread, instead of this 12-to-1 split.
Reason #3: After meeting with the instructor & discussing my options regarding this course, it was made clear to me that there were certain perceptions of me in the department that were not all that flattering. Now, in keeping with the context of an ultra-leftwing, hyperfeminist /environment that is the University of Alberta's Department of Drama, it could be understood easily that a conservative, over-achieving, quiet male might be regarded with hostility. It seems that my guarded shyness was being interpreted by some as male-superiority and even contempt for others in the department. Hello, crazy surprise!
Now, despite all of these obstacles, by the grace of God, I was allowed into the course, yet not without a healthy dose of apprehension. I was familiar with a good deal of the girls /who would be in the class with me, and I was scared spitless that I would be eaten alive, being the only representative of the "overbearing, self-important patriarchy" in the class. I mean, these were the very same girls who proclaimed to me a few weeks before that they saw no reason for any person to practise the Dramatic arts if they were not of the feminist persuasion. Man, no wonder there are 5 girls to every guy in this department...
As Easy as 4-5-7
January started along with my class. Every day, for the final 10ish minutes before the tri-weekly lab/lecture began, I made a very deliberate, conscious effort to pray for my dear life—that I would survive the following three hours with my classmates. Yes. Yes, I was literally that terrified of this class. I had no small bout of anxiety clench the life out of my internal organs every day I ascended the three flights of stairs to our acting studio on the third floor (imagine that, eh?) of the Fine Arts Building on campus. I mean, who wouldn't be at least a bit tenuous? Imagine yourself willingly walking into a den of starved dragons, who have the notorious reputation for loving the savour of human flesh? I'm sure you'd walk right in, smile, sit down and say, "Hi guys! I just showered with really hot water before coming today, so I'm both clean AND preheated for your chewing pleasure. Bon apetit!"
Yeah, no. I was scared. Scared so much that the crap in my pants was only of little comfort. As class one ended and class two proceeded along towards class three, I didn't know if I'd be able to make it.
One of my classmates—a girl whom I had never before met—actually didn't make it past day one. Our instructor, a British {ex-pat} gave us all a disclaimer at the beginning of our first class, letting us know that this class was a very difficult course, demanding long hours and much commitment, that everybody in the room would have to work together in a professional manner in order for the production—and ergo, the class—to be a success. He gave each one of us an ultimatum: If you weren't up to the challenges presented by this course, then drop out now. Even if you think you won't be able to handle it later on in the term, drop out now.
By the end of the first week of classes, the idea was strongly pounding against my skull. The only thing that was keeping me afloat was knowing that I needed this class to get my degree. I clenched my teeth in terror, clenched my hands in prayer and clenched my buttocks in fear that I'd crap my pants again.
The Terrible Twos
Week two began—oddly enough—right after week one, with our "unofficial" audition to the class and to our instructor. A short 5-minute presentation was to be given in order to display as many skills as you think were performative. Some people played musical instruments, some rapped, others performed tai chi & others stuck pins into their fingertips. I sang a song from Aladdin & performed a short monologue that I had picked up in my 2nd year acting class. At the moment when I was to go up before my classmates, I was terrified that I'd be snorted offstage, or—just as bad—told that what I presented was "nice." I didn't know what to expect, so I said to myself, "Screw it. I don't care what they think. I'll do this for you, Lord: take it as You will."
They actually enjoyed it.
I made a tiny improv character to intro the opening song from Aladdin, named Ahiz. He was a bit of a goof, but the class ate it up. They loved the Disney song & enjoyed my monologue even though it was a piece from Ibsen's repertoire. One word and only one word could summarise this outcome: Woot.
Oh, did I mention that three other guys also managed to weasel their ways into the class too? The ratio was no longer 12:1, as I was expecting it to be before class started. It was instead 12:4. A much safer weighting. It's funny: we often commented on how we were the "women of the office" in our class, being the ones cast off to the side whilst the majority of the class members fraternised.
One... Two... Five!
After the hurdle of the audition was over, and after it was met with a general amicability, my fears began to melt. Perhaps this class will indeed be bearable? The process of selecting and producing a play soon took off, and to be honest, the longest part of the course was those first 6 terrifying classes. The rest of the term seemed to almost implode, requiring so much preparation, exploration, rehearsal and design that it must have created a tiny black hole, or another sort of quantum singularity causing the predictions in Einstein's theory of general relativity to take over. There was no February. There was to March. There wasn't even really much of January. It was—to try to make sense of it—more like the month of Nu-ebru-arch.
Dragons are Awesome
By the end of the process and the end of March, I had gained a dozen good associates which may even mature into a good bunch of friends in the future. The flesh-eating, ravenous dragons of January weren't really interested in eating human flesh at all. Rather, they liked having human flesh around. A great bunch of folks in 457. A really great bunch. So much so that when we had our post-production meeting (wow... Already 10 days ago!) that there were people fighting back tears of it being over, with a general mood of sadness pervading the Timms' Second Playing Space.
We were done. All done. I wouldn't be seeing these people all again same Bat-time, same Bat-channel tomorrow. Junk. Done. Junk.
I was hoping that at least we'd all get together after the last class and go out on the town to reminisce, but that didn't happen either. Boo. Junk boo. It made me a little sadder, not getting to have one last shindig with the whole gang. Alas! The peculiarities of life, no? Who woulda thought that the very people I was terrified to be in the same room with would be the very same people I was saddened to not be able to hang out with in my newfound spare time? It's amazing the community that can be built when trying to produce a collaborative piece of performance art.
By the way, it turns out that our production was triumphantly received by the Department Faculty and by all the audience members who came to see it. Our production was apparently amazing. Cool. Very cool.
--Written, April 3, '06.
ps. My final production archival photos can be seen here:
click me to see!
It is the beginning of April right now, just a few short sunrises since the infamous 23-hour Sunday—the first Sunday of every April. I am done my degree. It has been 8 days since I finished my final production at school & it has been a mere 5 days since my last university class this year, ultimately my last class for the completion of my degree. I am sitting here wondering what to do with my life, but before I go on that stream of consciousness, let me tell you about some of the things I have learned this past term
Prelude to A Dream...'s Ending
I only had two courses in my final term of University: Drama 492 (Running Crew Projects) & Drama 457 (Sr. Production & Performance). Both courses were special in that neither required a full term to complete & that both required intensive, time commitments. My 492 class lasted a total of 3 weeks, but it nonetheless contained the same amount of class-hours as a full-term course. 457, on the other hand, consumed more than twice the course hours as a normal class (hence why it's worth double in course weighting). It is this second class that I mostly want to talk about. And here's why.
At the beginning of this year, I was quite uncertain as to whether I would be accepted into 457 or not, for a variety of reasons.
Reason #1: The class unofficially has an entrance requirement of students to have achieved a B+/A- cumulative average within the Department of Drama: a very difficult thing to achieve, since the departmental average floats around a C/C+, yet it wasn't something that I was worrying about until I got my marks back from the previous term. Ironically enough, my super-disgustingly-overworked term-of-death in Fall 2005 had taken its toll on my academic/dramatic performance, leaving me at just on the edge of the B/B+ departmental average line.
Reason #2: As of January 4, 2006, 12 of the 13 people enrolled in the course were females, and the nature of the course as it is, it would have been beneficial either for a homogeneous gender distribution, or for a more even gender spread, instead of this 12-to-1 split.
Reason #3: After meeting with the instructor & discussing my options regarding this course, it was made clear to me that there were certain perceptions of me in the department that were not all that flattering. Now, in keeping with the context of an ultra-leftwing, hyperfeminist /environment that is the University of Alberta's Department of Drama, it could be understood easily that a conservative, over-achieving, quiet male might be regarded with hostility. It seems that my guarded shyness was being interpreted by some as male-superiority and even contempt for others in the department. Hello, crazy surprise!
Now, despite all of these obstacles, by the grace of God, I was allowed into the course, yet not without a healthy dose of apprehension. I was familiar with a good deal of the girls /who would be in the class with me, and I was scared spitless that I would be eaten alive, being the only representative of the "overbearing, self-important patriarchy" in the class. I mean, these were the very same girls who proclaimed to me a few weeks before that they saw no reason for any person to practise the Dramatic arts if they were not of the feminist persuasion. Man, no wonder there are 5 girls to every guy in this department...
As Easy as 4-5-7
January started along with my class. Every day, for the final 10ish minutes before the tri-weekly lab/lecture began, I made a very deliberate, conscious effort to pray for my dear life—that I would survive the following three hours with my classmates. Yes. Yes, I was literally that terrified of this class. I had no small bout of anxiety clench the life out of my internal organs every day I ascended the three flights of stairs to our acting studio on the third floor (imagine that, eh?) of the Fine Arts Building on campus. I mean, who wouldn't be at least a bit tenuous? Imagine yourself willingly walking into a den of starved dragons, who have the notorious reputation for loving the savour of human flesh? I'm sure you'd walk right in, smile, sit down and say, "Hi guys! I just showered with really hot water before coming today, so I'm both clean AND preheated for your chewing pleasure. Bon apetit!"
Yeah, no. I was scared. Scared so much that the crap in my pants was only of little comfort. As class one ended and class two proceeded along towards class three, I didn't know if I'd be able to make it.
One of my classmates—a girl whom I had never before met—actually didn't make it past day one. Our instructor, a British {ex-pat} gave us all a disclaimer at the beginning of our first class, letting us know that this class was a very difficult course, demanding long hours and much commitment, that everybody in the room would have to work together in a professional manner in order for the production—and ergo, the class—to be a success. He gave each one of us an ultimatum: If you weren't up to the challenges presented by this course, then drop out now. Even if you think you won't be able to handle it later on in the term, drop out now.
By the end of the first week of classes, the idea was strongly pounding against my skull. The only thing that was keeping me afloat was knowing that I needed this class to get my degree. I clenched my teeth in terror, clenched my hands in prayer and clenched my buttocks in fear that I'd crap my pants again.
The Terrible Twos
Week two began—oddly enough—right after week one, with our "unofficial" audition to the class and to our instructor. A short 5-minute presentation was to be given in order to display as many skills as you think were performative. Some people played musical instruments, some rapped, others performed tai chi & others stuck pins into their fingertips. I sang a song from Aladdin & performed a short monologue that I had picked up in my 2nd year acting class. At the moment when I was to go up before my classmates, I was terrified that I'd be snorted offstage, or—just as bad—told that what I presented was "nice." I didn't know what to expect, so I said to myself, "Screw it. I don't care what they think. I'll do this for you, Lord: take it as You will."
They actually enjoyed it.
I made a tiny improv character to intro the opening song from Aladdin, named Ahiz. He was a bit of a goof, but the class ate it up. They loved the Disney song & enjoyed my monologue even though it was a piece from Ibsen's repertoire. One word and only one word could summarise this outcome: Woot.
Oh, did I mention that three other guys also managed to weasel their ways into the class too? The ratio was no longer 12:1, as I was expecting it to be before class started. It was instead 12:4. A much safer weighting. It's funny: we often commented on how we were the "women of the office" in our class, being the ones cast off to the side whilst the majority of the class members fraternised.
One... Two... Five!
After the hurdle of the audition was over, and after it was met with a general amicability, my fears began to melt. Perhaps this class will indeed be bearable? The process of selecting and producing a play soon took off, and to be honest, the longest part of the course was those first 6 terrifying classes. The rest of the term seemed to almost implode, requiring so much preparation, exploration, rehearsal and design that it must have created a tiny black hole, or another sort of quantum singularity causing the predictions in Einstein's theory of general relativity to take over. There was no February. There was to March. There wasn't even really much of January. It was—to try to make sense of it—more like the month of Nu-ebru-arch.
Dragons are Awesome
By the end of the process and the end of March, I had gained a dozen good associates which may even mature into a good bunch of friends in the future. The flesh-eating, ravenous dragons of January weren't really interested in eating human flesh at all. Rather, they liked having human flesh around. A great bunch of folks in 457. A really great bunch. So much so that when we had our post-production meeting (wow... Already 10 days ago!) that there were people fighting back tears of it being over, with a general mood of sadness pervading the Timms' Second Playing Space.
We were done. All done. I wouldn't be seeing these people all again same Bat-time, same Bat-channel tomorrow. Junk. Done. Junk.
I was hoping that at least we'd all get together after the last class and go out on the town to reminisce, but that didn't happen either. Boo. Junk boo. It made me a little sadder, not getting to have one last shindig with the whole gang. Alas! The peculiarities of life, no? Who woulda thought that the very people I was terrified to be in the same room with would be the very same people I was saddened to not be able to hang out with in my newfound spare time? It's amazing the community that can be built when trying to produce a collaborative piece of performance art.
By the way, it turns out that our production was triumphantly received by the Department Faculty and by all the audience members who came to see it. Our production was apparently amazing. Cool. Very cool.
--Written, April 3, '06.
ps. My final production archival photos can be seen here:
click me to see!
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