A Mormon girl working in the theatre on a Sunday afternoon

My mother complained to me today that I haven't blogged in forever, so I endeavor to remedy that. I'm pretty sure my mother is my only consistent reader, so I do try to keep her happy. You know, besides all of the OTHER reasons I try to keep my mother happy. :)

Part of the reason it's been awhile is that we have been kah-razy busy the last few days. I've talked about Site Specifics before. Basically, it's theatre based on the venue, rather than on a script. However, that means we don't have the base of a theater to work from--we're building from the ground up, creating scenery, lighting and sound effects, and anything else you can think of, to a PLACE--anywhere on campus the directors like and can get approved. Once we're past, I'll post more details and hopefully some pictures. But like I've said before, this is pretty much the coolest thing we do here. The most unique, anyway. It keeps our whole crew hopping for the week leading up to the shows.

At church today, I couldn't help noticing how many pregnant women there were. I kid you know, half of the Relief Society is pregnant. Granted, it's a pretty young ward, lots of toddlers running around. But still, I don't think I've ever been in such a group. All these crazy bellies! It was strange to see the age differences, too. There were expecting mothers who looked no older than me--their early twenties, if that. There were late-twenties moms with a kid or three already. But then there were a couple pregnant women who seriously had to be in their late thirties or early forties! Now, there's nothing wrong with this, of course, it's just funny to see the difference. The young mothers were spry and cute, with tight-fitting maternity blouses and chic skirts with expanded waistlines. The older ladies...heck, they don't care anymore, they were in loose, sack-like, flower-printed dresses to keep cool and comfy. I had to laugh. Those younger moms will learn!

Have you ever had a group of babies staring at you all at once? Toddlers, too, I guess. I don't know why I'm a target for this attention. Sitting in the congregation, surrounded by the aforementioned young families, I kept catching these young watchers. I would smile, then look back at the speaker, or my hymnbook, or the wall somewhere away from their wide, innocent eyes. There was the little boy next to me, his older sister on his other side, the little girl and her littler brother in front of me, and the four-year-old redhead in front of them. Hardly a moment went by where there wasn't at least one set of eyes on me. I didn't see them staring at anyone else in particular. Maybe I had Sharpie on my face? It was somewhat disconcerting, I'll admit. I didn't really mind, though. I like little'ns, as Sam would say.

It's hard to remember that it's Sunday, at work. That's part of the reason we (Mormons in particular) try not to work on Sunday, I suppose. Everybody's talking, everybody's in a rush, people are irritated and frustrated and tense and trying to make things work. Nobody around here but me is trying to focus on anything else, I suppose, but if they were, I'm sure they'd find it just as difficult as I do.

Part of the mission statement here is that we function as an artists colony, separate from the outside world and focused entirely on the kids' art. That's the biggest focus, really--the kids. Still, the atmosphere here is infectious. All of us have said at one point or another that we feel inspired here, that it affects our own artistic inclinations. I can't help but to write. One of the other women here broke out her paints practically upon arriving. There is just something about being surrounded by other artists that invokes the muse.

strange new grief

I can't even express how agonizing it is to be away from my family right now. My 'niece' Elaina is suffering, and the doctors are reaching the limits of what they can do for her. Her mother is trying to deal with the decisions she will soon be faced--whether or not to take her daughter off the ventilator, whether to stop the suffering. I'm glad that Hollie's parents are there with her, but I wish more than anything that I was there with her too. I feel so helpless. I can't express in words what I want to tell her, not over the phone or over email or blog. I want to hold her, I want to see Elaina, I want to be there with them. I've never felt anything like this before, and I don't know how to deal with it. I've never been incapable of supporting someone before. I've never been devoid of my own comfort when I needed it. This is why families are drawn together at times like this--they need the physical, nonverbal support of one another's presence. Right now, I can't offer or receive any of it.

I'm scared. I'm scared for Elaina, I'm scared for Hollie, and I'm scared for everybody that cares about them both. That includes me.

I wish I was there.

A conversation with the five-year-old

Doorbell rings. AUNT KATHY opens to find BEN, dripping onto the mat.

AUNT KATHY: Hi Ben. How's your life?

Long pause.

BEN: Wet.

A day for gratitude

I spent the day with my cousin Hollie at Primary Children's Hospital in SLC. Hollie's little daughter Elaina had a procedure today--a heart cath--in part to prepare for open heart surgery next week. It was a very stressful day for Hollie, waiting for news, getting only one progress report through the afternoon, and the procedure took a deal longer than it was supposed to. Poor Elaina has a big old bruise on her leg, but otherwise she came through fine, thank God and all those whose prayers have been with this little bug.

Primary Children's is an interesting place--it's bright and cheerful for a hospital, with lots of color, friendly nurses and doctors, and lots of support for families. The hospital reserved Hogle Zoo for the evening, just for the parents and families of children in the hospital. Ben and my parents went while Hollie and I waited for Elaina to get out of the PACU (Post Anesthetic Care Unit). But at the same time, its a hospital for children--a place where children unfortunately suffer. They suffer with the greatest care available, but they suffer there nonetheless.

I think we sometimes take a great deal for granted. Hollie and I talked about this a little bit today. I look at new mothers who walk around with their children, who stand in line at the grocery store with babe-in-arms, and I think of Elaina, who has spent nearly her entire five months of life chained to an oxygen tube and heart monitor, and often lots more than that. Elaina, who's usually on half a dozen medications or more just to keep her alive and as well as she can be. Elaina, who's going in for her second open-heart surgery at five months old. Elaina, who is the most beautiful, patient and good-natured baby ever.

I think sometimes we take a great deal for granted.

A Day's Work

Today, I wrote. I'm working on a piece of what I like to call "contemporary fantasy". A novel, perhaps even a children's novel, but we'll see.

I started writing my second chapter today--my kids' first day at school. Its rather a special school, so I wanted to serve up the details, but I'm not sold yet on what I accomplished. The chapter is very long, and it covers all their classes, but not in any kind of depth. I skim through each class, introducing the topic, the teacher, and in most cases a bit of dialogue. But I'm wondering whether it wouldn't be better to skim a bit more in some places and a bit less in others. But I guess that's what revision is for, eh?

Today I also created 41 new characters--other children at my school. There are about 100 all told, but these I created to reference at need. You would not believe how difficult it is to create, at whim, 40-odd people from nothing, and have them all be different and in some way unique, especially when applying rules of a not-quite-normal world. But there they are, and hopefully they get a bit more fleshed-out over the years.

Tomorrow I begin the third chapter, where we meet the fourth (of four) protagonists. I'm very excited. Today I established what might be my favorite character, but that remains to be seen. I love writing! These are my babies, my children of the present. I watch them grow day by day with great excitement.

Oh, and today I decided that even though I really don't like Temple of Doom, I still really like Harrison Ford, and that I'm really excited for #4. Oh, and I decided that I like David Cook after all. I didn't like him at first, but tonight I decided I like him. I still think Archuleta will win (simply because he has thousands of teeny-boppers AND the producers behind him), but I can also support the rock-star career of David Cook. We hope, anyway.

Transcending Ages

Today I would like to write about a specific element of popular culture:

Star Wars.

I have decided that Star Wars is a phenomenon. It transcends generations, along with the normal social and societal boundaries associated with cult fiction. Star Wars affects everybody--the old, the young, the popular and the nerdy, the intellectual and the oblivious. I can think of nothing else that does this--not Harry Potter (not yet, anyway), not Pirates, not even Lord of the Rings. In all those cases, somebody looks down on it, somebody criticizes, somebody snubs, and somebody takes it wildly out of control. Star Wars is different.

For example: My parents and I recently visited Disneyland. While there, we stopped to watch the "Jedi Academy" in Tomorrowland. It's a show, where "Jedi Masters" invite children of the audience to enter the Academy and learn the art of a lightsaber. It's a Kodak moment for the parents, of course, particularly when Darth Vader and Darth Maul enter the amphitheater with stormtroopers and duel with their kids. Perfectly charming.

However, my attention was drawn several times away from the stage and into the audience. The adults were enjoying this nearly as much as the kids--they certainly cheered for the Jedi, and booed and hissed the Sith, and were overjoyed when Yoda's overamplified voice echoed from the speakers overhead. One woman in particular was totally in the moment--in her sixties at least, she bowed to the Jedi as they came in, and theatrically cringed away from the Stormtroopers at their entrance. This proud grandmother did not seem the least bit abashed at her cultish behavior.

Furthermore, when my father and I sat down for a (nauseating) ride on Star Tours, the ride attendant (wearing a rather unfortunate bright-orange jumpsuit like Luke's X-wing flightsuit) wished us a good ride and said, of course, "And may the Force be with you." A woman behind me said then--and I quote--"I would give anything to wear an orange suit and say "May the Force be with you" to people and get paid for it!"

All I could think was, Yeah you'd enjoy it--the first five times. After that, I'm pretty sure the thrill would wear off.

My nephew Ben is just discovering Star Wars. He's five. You would not believe how many similar five-year-olds I saw running around California with toy lightsabers and padowan robes. Do you know how much they charge for those things? The robes--a cut-out piece of brown fabric that would rip if you looked at it funny--cost over fifty dollars. I don't know how much the toy lightsabers cost, but I imagine they are similarly astronomical. Star Wars is a money-making machine that will never die--no matter how terrible the new movies are.

What I'm forced to wonder is whether George Lucas had any idea what he was creating. I'm sure he claims some awe-inspiring vision of the future, but I imagine it was more an accident of fate. Our society needed inspiration, and the ham-handed filmmaker handed it to us with some cheap new tricks and some lucky finds on the acting side.

Speaking of which--Indy comes out in two weeks. I hope that it's good--it would be terrible to ruin the first three fifteen years after the fact!

A short piece about today's experience at the internship

Drawing blood is interesting and engaging. On adults. Children, however, are intimidating, not merely because their veins are tiny and buried under layers of baby fat, but also because their parentals are hovering protectively, nearly as terrified as their child that you are going to hurt those little arms, etc. Moreover, I do not enjoy being coughed on by nine-month-old children.

That said, on to Day 2.

Meeting Expectations

I've discovered over the years that there are certain people whom I will always want to please or impress--some to a greater degree than others. I can pinpoint these people, and I have a good relationship with each of them, albeit a very different relationship in each and every case.

For instance, there is my best friend. I always crave her good opinion of me, and I simultaneously always crave her own happiness. At the core of our relationship, however, is our religion--I feel that the closer I am to my religion, the more peaceful our relationship is. HOWEVER, this is the one person who I can completely be myself with. There is no one else whom I so completely trust, with every aspect of my life. I think everyone should have such a person.

I have another friend, a very close friend. We've gone through four years of college together, pursuing the same career--sometimes a cause for contention or competition, but most often a source of mutual aspirations. Despite everything, I always want to impress this dear friend with my prospects--where I'm working for the summer, where I'm going in six months, my dreams and goals. We've shared them for a long time. But recently we've kind of met a fork in the road--he got into grad school and I didn't. But in addition to that, I've realized that this road we've been traveling together isn't one I want to be on anymore. But, because of the nature of our friendship, I don't know how to explain to him that I don't share these mutual goals and aspirations anymore. The path that I want to take may not be as impressive to him, and I fear losing his respect.

There is my family, particularly my parents. For their sakes, I want to make something of myself. Pursuing our religion helps, but mostly I just want to be able to do things that make them proud of me. Oh, and my mother really wants grandchildren. I'll be perfectly happy to oblige her, as soon as I find their father.

I also have a favorite cousin, and I think for her it's good enough just to be myself. We've made similar mistakes, we share a lot of opinions, we share in the immediacy of our family, and she's honestly the one person whom I can talk childbirth with, without it getting awkward because I don't have my son anymore.

There are my high school friends--God bless them--who are dearer to me than nearly anything else in the world. For them, it's frequently a religion thing: am I dating, what's my calling, etc. They could often care less about my career, as long as its something that makes me happy. And as long as I'm doing SOMEthing. Hopefully soon I'll be able to remedy that. The only problem is that they don't want me to move away. My career would cause that, but my chosen career is becoming less appealing every day.

My professors, for the most part, want me to be successful at this chosen career--and NOT succumb to this religious inclination toward home and babies. Certainly, I want them to be proud of me also, but I think they are going to be the first ones I disappoint.

So what of myself? This is what puzzles me on a daily basis. What expectations do I hold for myself? They are often conflicting. I want to be successful, but as the days roll by, I more and more often question what exactly I want to succeed at. Certainly, there is much temporal glory to be had by being a woman pursuing a career. I have wanted that. But do I anymore? The older I get, the less that seems to matter. I used to mock women of my age (and younger) who settled down and started their families, without ever pursuing anything outside the home. I thought "They're not making anything of themselves, they're wasting their brains." But I don't really think that anymore. There are plenty of important things to do, at every stage of life. Pursuing a career is very grand, and I would love to do it. I love the theatre, I love the arts. But I don't think I could be content living that life. There is so much more to it.

I guess the greatest expectations I have to meet are the ones that HF and I work out between us--what satisfies His expectations while still generating my own happiness. I just have to figure them out, that's all.

Surrogate mother

This week, I've been staying at my parents' house in Orem, taking care of my 'niece' Elaina. This little one has been through the mill. She was born a month early, with DiGeorge's Syndrome. She had heart surgery when she was about a week old, which meant she was at Primary's for nearly the first month of her life. She came home for a couple of days, caught RSV and went straight back. She spent three more weeks at the hospital, then finally was able to come home. Two days later, her mom was diagnosed with Influenza A. The doctor told Hollie not even to be in the same house as her kids, so she called my parents and asked if they could take the kids, which they did. Elaina is still on oxygen, as you can see, as well as an oxygen/heart monitor, so her movement is pretty limited. Hollie's parents came to stay with my parents for a week to help take care of the baby, and when they had to return to Nebraska, I came down from Salt Lake to stay through the remainder of Hollie's illness to take care of Elaina and Ben.
Elaina is the most darling baby in the world, and so sweet-tempered. She's been giving us some scares--some of her medicine upsets her stomach, so she's been throwing up. The first time it happened, they had to call the paramedics because she stopped breathing and turned blue--but they got everything sorted out and she was okay. Yesterday, she spit up three times in the space of 24 hours, so we took her to the doctor. He gave us some pointers to keep her from doing it, but really praised us on her care, said she was doing great. The really scary thing is that it comes up through her nose as well as her mouth. It just looks more terrible than it actually is, and it's no fun for anybody. We have to suction out her airways, replace her airtubes because they get spitup in them, we usually have to change and bathe her because she gets it all over herself--its just a lot of fuss that nobody really enjoys. Hopefully she won't do it anymore!

The really funny part is our dog, Suzy Q. Now, this dog has always been pretty protective of Ben, Elaina's five-year-old elder brother. Whenever Ben goes out to ride his bike, Suzy runs right along with him. She loves playing with him. She's only about two years old, and having Elaina in the house has really mellowed this dog. As you can see, she's become Elaina's Nanna--she is SO protective. She'll just sit there next to the baby's bouncer for hours, and she's always sniffing and watching Elaina. It's so cute.
Caring for Elaina has been a real joy. She's such a pleasant baby--even when she fusses she's just so cute, you just want to make her happy. She's at the stage where she's starting to focus on things with her eyes, and she's really getting expressive with her eyes and face. She's gaining more control of her hands, enough to push me away when she doesn't want to burp! Soon she'll be able to push her binky back in her mouth when she drops it--which is all the time. Caring for Elaina just makes me want my own babies, and right now!

Inspired by Gregory

My friend Gregory recently posted a blog on his MySpace concerning a Life List. He described starting a list in high school, a list of things he wanted to accomplish during his lifetime. It echoed with me, because I happen to keep a similar list. As Gregory himself said: "... partly because I love lists and partly just for fun, I have decided to post my working life list. And I encourage you to create your own list—what do you want to do with your life?

So here are some of the things I want to do with my life: (in no particular order)

--Serve a mission.

--Publish a book (at least one).

--Learn to play the saxophone.

--Learn how to cook well.

--Go to grad school (I find out in March!!)

--Get married in the temple. (Really, what kind of good LDS girl would I be without this one?)

--Raise at least three children.

--Work on a Broadway tour.

--Stage manage all of Shakespeare’s plays.

--Work in politics. (Preferably in DC, because its a great place.)

--Learn to tap dance.

--Travel the world. (Vague, but really I just want to see everything.)

--Live in a big city—NYC, D.C., Chicago, Philly, London, or the like. At least for awhile.

--Live in a small town, at least for awhile.

--Live in another country, for awhile.

--Write a book with Sam. And actually finish it. Maybe it can be the one that gets published!

--Raise pets. Dogs, especially. Beagles.

--Work in publishing.

--Become bilingual, at least. The languages I would most like to speak are: German, Spanish, Russian, Italian, and Mandarin. Following those are the rest of the world's languages.

A little melancholy

Hollie gave birth to Elaina Jean late last night. I went with my parents and Ben to visit her this evening. She's struggling, because Elaina is underdeveloped and needs surgery, but even more so because she just wants to hold her baby and feel like everything's okay.

I haven't wanted to hold a baby so much for a really long time. Of course I was thinking about Ian, but also about the future, the future children I hope to have. There is truly nothing like motherhood. There is no similar power in all the world, and even we mothers underestimate it far too often.

Ben is in tears right now, because he misses his mother. This is the third night in a row he's slept over at our house, and he's probably got another two or more ahead of him. He misses his mom. There is nothing more pure than the unconditional love of a child for his mother, and nothing more tender.

Ben's sleeping with me tonight.