One Thing That Keeps Me Going

I was sifting through pictures on my Flickr page and I found the following caption on one of my photos:

"When my ego and concerns are quieted or out of the way, a lot of what I do boils down to a couple of simple reasons:

• I don't know what else I'd do
• I feel a responsibility

The first reason is easy. The second is kind of typically me, I suppose. Because I have the talents and proclivities I have, and I am the only person in family that does (or to the degree that I have them) or has; because I know that there are people out there who would if they could; and because I'd like to be there for those who will in the future, I feel it's my responsibility to take care of my body and make sure it can do the things I strive to do to the best of my ability. I feel it's my responsibility to expand the scope of that which I am able to do. I feel that if I do not do these things about which I am passionate that all that I have will be a waste and a gob in the face of the forces and situations that congealed to bring Gregory Parks into a place and state in which he could make decisions and make these things happen.

I am not a trailblazer, but I am one of those possibilities for which trailblazers struggled. To honor that is my greatest responsibility."

Word.

Blowing Off Retail Steam

This is THE shopping season and for survival I work retail. The farther I get in my professional life, the more it becomes apparent to me that my momentum is building, the less patience I have for working a "straight" job in the "real" world.

I made it through most of yesterday, but the last 2-1/2 hours were very challenging. For the sake of entertainment, I'm including a quote of part of a post I wrote after the fact:

"I've got a degree, I've hiked to the top of Mt. Fuji, I've walked the great Wall of China, I can speak portions of a couple of languages, and I can explain the very basics of string theory, witch. You just have insurance, a house, regrets, and a 401K."

The part that hits me, is that it's true and I forget to look at that sometimes. I don't have a house or insurance or a 401K. Sometimes that's all people want and they think it will give them security, stability, and/or happiness and they find out later that it's not everything and it's not what makes a life. I have lived a spectacular life and there is more to come. It's uncertain and sometimes difficult, but I'm thankful.

I'm Feeling Kind of Official

I just wrote my first mass email to the people who are attending the workshop I'm teaching on Sunday. Every step I take to laying this thing out makes it more real and the terror transforms to intrigue. I'm not talking about the engulfing, compelling initial confusion of Inception or the first time you saw The Matrix, but the kind when you get home and someone leaves you a trail of notes promising a surprise at the end.

Here's the transcript:

Hey everyone!

Thank you all for signing up for my very first workshop here in the wonderful Twin Cities. Trust me, I'm more nervous than you, but that's all right: we're guinea pigs in this thing – together.

We're all guinea pigs.

As I'm "reviewing" the "material" I have "laid out" for the workshop, I'm coming to the realization that what I have outlined – coupled with the amazing amount of people who have signed up – may make the workshop run over. We are generously being allowed the latitude to do so, so if enough of you are able to stay past 3 until 4 at most: cool. We'll continue. Anyone who must leave at 3 should go ahead and continue to do so, and will be justified in shooting me steely glances as s/he leaves.

But only if it makes you feel better. I won't hate you.

Remember: dress to move, wear closed toe shoes, bring a notebook and writing utensil if you want to jot stuff down. See you in a couple of days! Sunday 1 - 3 (or 4)

Greg
___________________________

Wow. This is real. I'm looking forward to working on another longer series already!

Kobe Was Done, But I Forgot to Finish

I seem to have forgotten to include the last show rundown of my year on Kinoshita. Otherwise, I would not have kept the show schedule. Here it is:

30 2-show days
21 3-show days
  2 4-show days

total shows: 131


And that wrapped my year on Kinoshita.

I Am Such a Twit

I finally started a Twitter account.

I say "finally" as if it's been some long-awaited move, but the back story is that I've been considering it for the past couple of months. The thing that tipped the scales was a very cool job posting. A national public radio company posted a job listing for music writer/blogger with broadcast experience and some skill taking pictures. The only broadcast experience I have is from back in high school, but I speak really well and am no stranger to a microphone. Pictures? I have that tied up.

I could think of a dozen niggling, nit-picky reasons why I'm not technically qualified, but as I plowed forward I thought of as many reasons why I'm well-qualified and felt the confidence surging. Although Questioning and Doubt never left, Confidence always kept giving them swirlies and wedgies and taking their lunch money. As simple as I had heard that Twitter is, I decided not to let a lack of firsthand experience with it get between me and the possibility of landing a sweet grant-based job with an extremely convenient duration. Now was the time, and who cares if someone thinks I started it out of desperation just for this job. I had already figured its value to another blog venture I'm struggling with right now. This was the extra push I needed to make step my toes into the Twittie pool.

I've lost track of how many days ago it was, but I think it's four or five now. I'm not a whore for followers, but I just reached 30 the other day, blocked one, and am not embracing #followbacknation ideals of automatically following anyone who follows you. I know the stuff I just spit out there and I don't really want that from someone I don't know even though I could just simply unfollow. It's like receiving a Facebook request without an introductory or exploratory message. If you're a friend or I know who you are, fire away. If I don't know you, that's kind of like just picking a random person out of a crowd to have sex with.

Hyperbolic, I know, but it's my hyperbole, damn it! I like it and it stays!

I've even managed to send a few tweets from my five-year-old not-smartphone. I've amassed 52 tweets so far and look to improve the quality and wit and content as I grow. It will be 53.

As soon as I can embed this link . . .

THERE!

Bonafides?

Roughly two months ago I had an audition for a company called Pro Crisis, which specializes in crisis intervention training. It's rather improvisation heavy and I've done quite a bit of improvisation, so I figured I could do it. The audition was a very cool experience that had me leaving pensive and feeling capable while also slightly out of my element. This week I had my first round of dates working for one of the training sessions.

At the beginning of each day's sessions I was nervous. I wasn't sure if what I was ready to do would be good enough to bring credit to the company in this high-stakes contract. Every scenario I had to perform was something new to me. Each day ended with success, relief, and increased confidence.

Today – the last day – is one that I would count as the most unique of the acting experiences I've had: I was able to cry in a scenario.

I've never been in a role or show that commanded that. I've not really done much scripted or "legitimate" theater at all and what other acting I've done usually called for either comedy or just to play straight and "natural". I can't say for sure if I was just in the right state or what appreciable amount could be attributed to the last months of stress, distress, frustration, and depression, but I cried; real, screw-faced, runny-nosed crying. Even with the pauses and restarts during the scenario, I was able to pull it back and then start it right up again.

I had hoped I had it in me, but never knew whether or not I did until now. Earlier in the week, I had worked up to the point of tears, but didn't get that far. That was impressive enough to me. After the crying scenario I had worked myself up to that point again. As stupid as it may sound, as insulting it may be to all of my other fully legitimate clowning and improvisation experiences, I felt like this was the moment that I really felt that I actually had chops and that I was a "real" actor.

This week exercised a whole other application of my improvisation training and made a whole mess of my years of work seem to pay off. All of these corrections officers and case managers and nurses were affected by what my colleagues and I did throughout this whole week. Our bosses were ecstatic about what they saw us do and the feedback they were receiving.

After the end of the scenario in which I cried, the group and the coach filed out of the space and I was left alone. I looked up to the window and noticed for the first time how bright the morning was. I watched orange leaves fall from a tree. No matter how the rest of the day would be, right now was a very good, beautiful moment.

An Open Letter to Whatever

Okay, whatever is biting me – I presume by this point that you're a spider and not bedbugs because of the lack of bedbug sign – may we talk for a moment?

What is it? Why me? When are you biting me: at night in bed? Sometime in the evening before bed? It's my long-sleeved shirts, isn't it? Or my First Avenue coat? Are you getting me at Godiva in the back room?

Look: we're both just trying to live in the same space. You're a small thing that I can't find and I'm a big thing that hasn't finished arranging the apartment from when it moved in. There's plenty of space and cool hiding places for you right now until I get my crap together. You've got time. I've got distractions.

And don't think you're off the hook 2011. I still want to have a sit-down with you, but this is just more pressing right now.

Thank you,

Greg