Not so much with the inspiration and contemplation today. I'm short on coffee, chocolate and sleep and it is beginning to show, especially after a half day of my least favorite activity. I am really tired of writing cover letters. Looking for full-time work for over two years now and just once I'd love to write a cover letter in my own words, saying exactly what is on my mind.
Dear Person-Who-Does-Not-Give-A-Crap:
Please find my resume enclosed for you to doodle on, that is, if you bother to print it out. The most important point I can make about my qualifications is that I do not suck. I know you'd like to see an airtight resume and a perfect transcript, but I don't have those things. All I can say is that when it comes to doing the work, I get it done. I have no doubt that your "preferred qualifications" include 10 years of experience, a stint in the peace corps and perfect pitch, but for the money you are paying, you should feel lucky to find someone without a criminal record. Consider this, no one is more willing to take your crap than a forty-one year old coming off her longest stint of unemployment since that dry season between babysitting jobs in junior high. Throw in a family to support and it's highly likely that someone in my demographic will scrub your toilets on their lunch hour in order to keep a job. That twenty-something you think will work for 20k a year is going to steal your office supplies and make out with the FedEx guy and then quit six months in when she decides to go to graduate school in eco-design.
I could take a paragraph to illustrate how my skills and personality mesh perfectly with your corporate goals, but it seems a waste when your mission statement is probably a load of manure that would be unrecognizable to anyone who actually works for you. How about if you hire me, I won't call you on your BS if you don't call me on mine? We can pretend you have a global vision for the future and that my lunch was only half an hour. See? Win-win.
In closing, I'd like to thank you for your time, as in, I'm sure that in the time it took you to read this letter, you have already determined that you will be closing this position, covering it in-house or giving the job to your cousin's boyfriend.
Sincerely,
Dramamama
PS: I can start by the first of next month.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Third Day - Personal Statement
Today I had to try and write yet another "personal statement" to update my various application files spread across the internet. I like to think of it as my little cyber battalion advancing the war against my unemployment. Instead I think I ended up writing a "personal screed" but I'm hoping to salvage some of it for an appropriate purpose. Until such time, it will serve as today's entry--I'm officially out of introspection.
***********************************************************
When it comes to teaching, one phrase has remained my guide for over twenty years, whether the students are a group of campers, teenage voice students or a workshop full of aspiring professionals. It is simply this, tell the story. Whether it is a song, a play, a piece of literature or a historical document, there is always a story to be told and that story is rendered significant by the understanding of its teller. As a teacher in the performing arts, my skill set requires a broad understanding of literature, history, language and physical techniques to express the material in music, movement and spoken word. So much time is spent on the details of a performance, putting up a production or presenting a concert that it is easy to lose sight of the fundamental reason why we do these things. We are here to tell the story.
As a teacher, my goal is twofold. My obvious objective is to give my students the skills they need; learning to speak clearly or move with intention and parsing a piece of literature or a historical document for meaning and subtext. My most important job, however, is to connect them, intellectually and emotionally with the stories that their skills are being honed to serve. While this is important in the professional sphere, it is elemental in education. In arts education, the goal is to transform the performers themselves, as much if not more than the audience.
I believe it is this transformational aspect of the performing arts that elevates it from the elective to the essential in the school environment and indeed it is why I am so driven to make this transition from teaching privately to being part of an educational community. Recently I was involved in a project that was a collaboration between an upper school history department, a local playwright and a combined cast of students and faculty. Five teens from Florida and one Chinese exchange student took on the challenge of echoing the voices of Japanese Americans incarcerated following the attack on Pearl Harbor. For some this was their first exposure to this chapter in history, for others their first experience in a theatrical production. They all made a tremendous journey, culminating in that lightbulb moment when a student connects words and facts with empathy. In the end they realized that their “characters” were young people just like themselves. With no more tools than a darkened room, lighted music stands, a projection screen and the clothes from their own closets, they drew the audience in and told the story.
Will any of these students go on to be professional actors? Probably not. Will they all retain a new understanding of this event in American history? Absolutely. The performing arts bridge the gap between understanding and empathy, creating a level of comprehension that goes beyond mere recall. Ultimately, it is this understanding that is the foundation for not just the development of minds but of character. In creating an empathetic connection with something outside their experience, a performer will eventually come to the realization that they are not just telling a character's story, but also their own. In the end, the goal is not simply to tell the story but to tell the story of the world and to realize in the telling that each of us has a place within it.
I don't teach music and drama to create future performers or even future arts patrons. I teach the performing arts in the hope to have some small hand in creating future human beings of intelligence, imagination and compassion. Is there any job better than that?
***********************************************************
When it comes to teaching, one phrase has remained my guide for over twenty years, whether the students are a group of campers, teenage voice students or a workshop full of aspiring professionals. It is simply this, tell the story. Whether it is a song, a play, a piece of literature or a historical document, there is always a story to be told and that story is rendered significant by the understanding of its teller. As a teacher in the performing arts, my skill set requires a broad understanding of literature, history, language and physical techniques to express the material in music, movement and spoken word. So much time is spent on the details of a performance, putting up a production or presenting a concert that it is easy to lose sight of the fundamental reason why we do these things. We are here to tell the story.
As a teacher, my goal is twofold. My obvious objective is to give my students the skills they need; learning to speak clearly or move with intention and parsing a piece of literature or a historical document for meaning and subtext. My most important job, however, is to connect them, intellectually and emotionally with the stories that their skills are being honed to serve. While this is important in the professional sphere, it is elemental in education. In arts education, the goal is to transform the performers themselves, as much if not more than the audience.
I believe it is this transformational aspect of the performing arts that elevates it from the elective to the essential in the school environment and indeed it is why I am so driven to make this transition from teaching privately to being part of an educational community. Recently I was involved in a project that was a collaboration between an upper school history department, a local playwright and a combined cast of students and faculty. Five teens from Florida and one Chinese exchange student took on the challenge of echoing the voices of Japanese Americans incarcerated following the attack on Pearl Harbor. For some this was their first exposure to this chapter in history, for others their first experience in a theatrical production. They all made a tremendous journey, culminating in that lightbulb moment when a student connects words and facts with empathy. In the end they realized that their “characters” were young people just like themselves. With no more tools than a darkened room, lighted music stands, a projection screen and the clothes from their own closets, they drew the audience in and told the story.
Will any of these students go on to be professional actors? Probably not. Will they all retain a new understanding of this event in American history? Absolutely. The performing arts bridge the gap between understanding and empathy, creating a level of comprehension that goes beyond mere recall. Ultimately, it is this understanding that is the foundation for not just the development of minds but of character. In creating an empathetic connection with something outside their experience, a performer will eventually come to the realization that they are not just telling a character's story, but also their own. In the end, the goal is not simply to tell the story but to tell the story of the world and to realize in the telling that each of us has a place within it.
I don't teach music and drama to create future performers or even future arts patrons. I teach the performing arts in the hope to have some small hand in creating future human beings of intelligence, imagination and compassion. Is there any job better than that?
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Second Day - Refiner's Fire
Ever since our major life change following Todd's layoff and the end of our lives as we knew them, I have slowly been crawling towards some kind of understanding, some kind of belief that we are on an upward trajectory, however minimally inclined. Then I have weeks like this one, where just when I feel positive about a new step taken, another opportunity to explore, a positive habit begun, then the wave comes to suck me under again. It can be external or of my own making, but it's real and it's there and again I am out to sea, without my bearings and without my breath.
Today's reading included this line in the closing prayer, "Hold me to the fire long enough to know myself truly. . ." and I thought, seriously, I think I have sufficient self-knowledge at this point, could we perhaps be done with this fire business? I'm not sure what I really think about the idea of the refiner's fire. Does God truly test us, deliberately, to break us down to our most elemental structure? It seems a bit petty and small. Or is it that this is the nature of things in the creation and so we are not so much refined as eroded? And if it is part of the plan of God or nature that we be tested to our limits, does everyone experience this testing? Is it merely an illusion that some people live lives of relative ease while some face constant challenges? And if I knew the answers to those questions, would it make me any more wise or would I make different choices?
Probably not. So why contend with the questions? I suppose when bad things happen in life, we search for meaning, we want justification. We want a compact lesson delivered by a cucumber and tomato, preceded by a catchy jingle. The idea being that if we knew the WHY then everything would be fine. In fact, knowing the "why" of any unfortunate situation, presuming it even exists, is just as likely to make a situation worse rather than better. So often, the answer is a cosmic "because I said so" which as my four year old will tell you is about the least satisfying answer possible.
You cannot possibly know, until you have lived at the vulnerable edge of our society, due to financial hardship, job loss, illness or other polarizing life events, just how little it takes to send you off course. When you have no roots, the wind can blow you wherever it likes, and you have little to no defense against whatever comes. You cannot stand up for yourself when the ground beneath you is constantly shifting and for better or for ill, I seem to have become an expert in going where the wind takes me.
Perhaps this is what makes the fire preferable. Being shaped by the wind feels like nature's erosion. Indifferent, cruel and arbitrary forces work on my exposed form. A fire has purpose. Rather than mere wearing down and eventual decomposition, a fire transforms matter. There is no way to know while I am in the midst of the struggle whether I am being disintegrated or translated. My only choice is the choice of faith. I choose to hope for transformation in the fire.
Today's reading included this line in the closing prayer, "Hold me to the fire long enough to know myself truly. . ." and I thought, seriously, I think I have sufficient self-knowledge at this point, could we perhaps be done with this fire business? I'm not sure what I really think about the idea of the refiner's fire. Does God truly test us, deliberately, to break us down to our most elemental structure? It seems a bit petty and small. Or is it that this is the nature of things in the creation and so we are not so much refined as eroded? And if it is part of the plan of God or nature that we be tested to our limits, does everyone experience this testing? Is it merely an illusion that some people live lives of relative ease while some face constant challenges? And if I knew the answers to those questions, would it make me any more wise or would I make different choices?
Probably not. So why contend with the questions? I suppose when bad things happen in life, we search for meaning, we want justification. We want a compact lesson delivered by a cucumber and tomato, preceded by a catchy jingle. The idea being that if we knew the WHY then everything would be fine. In fact, knowing the "why" of any unfortunate situation, presuming it even exists, is just as likely to make a situation worse rather than better. So often, the answer is a cosmic "because I said so" which as my four year old will tell you is about the least satisfying answer possible.
You cannot possibly know, until you have lived at the vulnerable edge of our society, due to financial hardship, job loss, illness or other polarizing life events, just how little it takes to send you off course. When you have no roots, the wind can blow you wherever it likes, and you have little to no defense against whatever comes. You cannot stand up for yourself when the ground beneath you is constantly shifting and for better or for ill, I seem to have become an expert in going where the wind takes me.
Perhaps this is what makes the fire preferable. Being shaped by the wind feels like nature's erosion. Indifferent, cruel and arbitrary forces work on my exposed form. A fire has purpose. Rather than mere wearing down and eventual decomposition, a fire transforms matter. There is no way to know while I am in the midst of the struggle whether I am being disintegrated or translated. My only choice is the choice of faith. I choose to hope for transformation in the fire.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday
A year ago, I wrote these words:
This year, for the first time, I am attempting to observe Lent by fasting, or abstinence. This year I am abstaining from excuses. I am abstaining from fear. I am abstaining from all things that separate me from my own creative force and therefore the original Creative Force in whose image I am made. This is the plan. Every day I will write a page of something, just to write. If it embarrassingly ungrammatical, irksomely self-indulgent or just plain sucks, so be it.
It turned out to be an interesting experiment. I fell short of my self-imposed daily quota (working Holy Week as a musician tends to get fairly consuming as Easter approaches) but I did feel like I had made discoveries about myself and that I had pushed through some kind of barrier. So this year I’m trying to take it a step further, broadening the objective in hopes of broadening the impact of the outcome.
To start with, I’ve never identified with the idea of “giving something up” for Lent. It wasn’t part of my religious tradition and honestly it always seemed a little silly. (Give up chocolate for Lent? Honestly, I think chocolate brings me more in touch with the Divine.) While last year I focused on giving up fear or excuses, this year I want to make a positive step and focus on what to give for lent, rather than what to give up. I want to make this a time of contemplation and creativity, of action and hopefully a time of sharing and communication with my family and my community. A year later I am still at a crossroads, still at a personal crisis with no job, no career and no clear vision of the future. The one thing I have is a stronger belief in my own value and perhaps, an understanding that things will get better.
So here is the plan for this year.
One: Read something inspiring every day. It think many things are inspiring, but as my starting place I will be reading Walter Wangerin Jr.’s beautiful Lenten meditation, Reliving the Passion. It’s been a long time since I’ve read it and I’m looking forward to seeing it with new eyes. If you’re interested, each day’s entry is only 2 pages or so and it is available to download on Kindle for only $6.
Two: Write something honest every day. Same as last year, this doesn’t need to be deathless prose, I just need to be accountable for setting something down that isn’t a Facebook status or a grocery list. Different from last year, this may not always be a blog entry, although I will be using the blog again this year, both as a writing platform and as a way to log other activities and general thoughts on this process. As last year’s project resulted in more writing in my life on a regular basis, the day’s writing might be a blog entry, a poem, part of a story or play or even a Storybird or other collaborative endeavor.
Three: Make a positive choice every day. While it is not realistic for me to make goals to eat perfectly, exercise, exhibit charity and be the perfect mom and wife every day, I believe I can commit to at least once a day, taking one of those signpost moments and making the positive choice. I’ll try to expand on this idea later, but the underlying thought is to find self-empowerment in self-discipline. What better time to reflect on discipline than Lent?
That’s the plan. It’s ambitious. I may fall short. But in falling short I still will have accomplished something . Perhaps like last year, I will find Easter with a new heart and an expanded mind.
This year, for the first time, I am attempting to observe Lent by fasting, or abstinence. This year I am abstaining from excuses. I am abstaining from fear. I am abstaining from all things that separate me from my own creative force and therefore the original Creative Force in whose image I am made. This is the plan. Every day I will write a page of something, just to write. If it embarrassingly ungrammatical, irksomely self-indulgent or just plain sucks, so be it.
It turned out to be an interesting experiment. I fell short of my self-imposed daily quota (working Holy Week as a musician tends to get fairly consuming as Easter approaches) but I did feel like I had made discoveries about myself and that I had pushed through some kind of barrier. So this year I’m trying to take it a step further, broadening the objective in hopes of broadening the impact of the outcome.
To start with, I’ve never identified with the idea of “giving something up” for Lent. It wasn’t part of my religious tradition and honestly it always seemed a little silly. (Give up chocolate for Lent? Honestly, I think chocolate brings me more in touch with the Divine.) While last year I focused on giving up fear or excuses, this year I want to make a positive step and focus on what to give for lent, rather than what to give up. I want to make this a time of contemplation and creativity, of action and hopefully a time of sharing and communication with my family and my community. A year later I am still at a crossroads, still at a personal crisis with no job, no career and no clear vision of the future. The one thing I have is a stronger belief in my own value and perhaps, an understanding that things will get better.
So here is the plan for this year.
One: Read something inspiring every day. It think many things are inspiring, but as my starting place I will be reading Walter Wangerin Jr.’s beautiful Lenten meditation, Reliving the Passion. It’s been a long time since I’ve read it and I’m looking forward to seeing it with new eyes. If you’re interested, each day’s entry is only 2 pages or so and it is available to download on Kindle for only $6.
Two: Write something honest every day. Same as last year, this doesn’t need to be deathless prose, I just need to be accountable for setting something down that isn’t a Facebook status or a grocery list. Different from last year, this may not always be a blog entry, although I will be using the blog again this year, both as a writing platform and as a way to log other activities and general thoughts on this process. As last year’s project resulted in more writing in my life on a regular basis, the day’s writing might be a blog entry, a poem, part of a story or play or even a Storybird or other collaborative endeavor.
Three: Make a positive choice every day. While it is not realistic for me to make goals to eat perfectly, exercise, exhibit charity and be the perfect mom and wife every day, I believe I can commit to at least once a day, taking one of those signpost moments and making the positive choice. I’ll try to expand on this idea later, but the underlying thought is to find self-empowerment in self-discipline. What better time to reflect on discipline than Lent?
That’s the plan. It’s ambitious. I may fall short. But in falling short I still will have accomplished something . Perhaps like last year, I will find Easter with a new heart and an expanded mind.
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