(What) To Do List.

List of Stuff That Karlie Could Possibly Do Now That It's Time to Do Life

1. Sublet in Burlington: live with people you don't know and will probably dislike because you kind of suck, and edit videos of college graduations on a couch in the apartment. All day. Meanwhile, figure out where you're going in the fall.

2. Go Home: sit on your couch editing videos of college graduations and recount the amazing places that your friends from home have all gone off to. Hang out with folks that are either much older or much younger than you.

3. Go Anywhere: you have six months before you have to start paying off your loans.  Move somewhere. You can live anywhere for a year. You can do anything for a year. Go somewhere and find a weird job and just do life for a while. But... don't go alone. Coerce some of your equally unprepared-for-life friends to go with you. 

4. Teach for America: good in theory, but they're not going to take you because you have an education degree. Woops, TSEF America. Let's not encourage teachers to work in schools that need them. 

5. City Year: Go do the opposite of living in Vermont and try to contribute something to an inner-city school. Undoubtedly you will learn a gargantuan amount in this experience, about teaching, about yourself, about inequality... it will probably be depressing and invigorating.

6. Americorps: Go do anything, anywhere, and have a support system. And defer your loans. And contribute to the betterment of civilization. 

7. Get a music teaching job in Vermont: And then never leave.

8. Get a music teaching job anywhere else: and then likely abandon them too soon, before you can impact or grow the music program. 

This list will hopefully grow... hopefully soon considering that at the end of May I will no longer have a house. Accepting suggestions. All of y'all do cool things and know people that do cool things, so please do share.

Of course, everything will change by the time I actually need to make a move. It always does. And that is life.

Writing a Memoir. Do this?

     I'm currently reading Memoirs, an autobiography by Hungarian conductor and pianist, Georg Solti. (Apparently he's a "Sir," but I haven't read about him being knighted yet, so we'll cross that bridge when the time comes.) I'm frustrated. As someone who values the ability to write well as an attractive attribute in a person, I get nervous about autobiographies. The disclaimer that needs issuing preceding this blog post is that I'm only half way through the memoir, so perhaps the second half will really get me excited.

     Solti's memoir is basically lists and lists of things he's done, and who he's done them with, lumped into paragraphs with some connecting words. To be quite honest, I've realized while reading this, that I just don't care. I'm reading this for a project in my conducting class. I want to be a good conductor. Currently, I am not. But I've decided that reading this brilliant conductor's lists of accolades isn't going to help me at all. At the end of every chapter I'm left thinking two things, "I've already forgotten the names of every person he interacted with, and every opera he conducted," and "He has done so many things that I will never do so I will never be brilliant."
     I know that's not his intention in writing this memoir, but I can't help but think he's just kind of a jackass. (At this point perhaps some of you are up in arms, how dare I say this about one of the greatest conductors, what grounds do I have? etc, etc. That's fine. Stop reading.) I think that Solti felt entitled enough to just verbally vomit everything he's ever done under the assumption that it would speak to his fans. And I'm sure that it does. I'm sure there are aspiring conductors and musicians out there who eat this up. I'm sure that with every name drop they intake a sharp breath and their hand covers their mouth while they think, "My God, Solti worked with him? He is my absolute hero." But you know what? I don't know who these people are, and I'm positive that they played their part in changing the shape of music forever, but reading this memoir hasn't told me a single thing about them.
     My point is as follows:
I believe that everyone should write their memoir. But don't look at your resume and use that as the outline.
I guess I'll just have to make a list.

IF KARLIE WROTE A MEMOIR,

HERE ARE THE THINGS SHE'D WANT TO INCLUDE.

-The People. So yes, like Georg Solti did, but I'd want to really write about them. Write about who they are, write about why they were important to me, how they impacted my life. I'm only 20 and writing about the people who have changed me would fill up all the pages of Harry Potter and more. 

-The Events. So yes, like Georg Solti did, but I'd want to write about what the events meant to me, how they changed the course of my life, what I took away from them. I'd want to share with the reader what I learned from my experiences, not make them envious or in awe or angry or whatever I'm currently feeling for Solti.

-Describing Words. I've read one hundred+ pages and I bet I could count the number of adjectives and adverbs on my fingers. You're writing your memoir. Certainly the reason you have memories in the first place is because they evoked some sort of emotional reaction, they involved your senses, you had opinions. Write about them. Care at least a little bit about the picture you are painting.

So now I'm interested. People write me some memoirs. I want to read about y'all and see if you're more interesting to me then one of the world's greatest conductors. Oops, Georg. Knight or not, I'm underwhelmed by your thoughts.

Because I do want to pay tribute to him, because, yeah he is awesome- here's a video of him conducting. Even though he's speaking German, one can still understand his musical ideas. Oh, what? Music as a universal language? Crazy.

And another:

PS: unrelatedly, this is an AMAZING idea, bringing bartering back into style, helping people to survive, building community, reminding us what it is like to be a person. Check it out:

Onion River Exchange

Help Me Out, Help Each Other Out

Hello Readers!

I'm writing with a plea for your help with an idea for a project that I've just begun, but have a very limited amount of time to complete.  MEANING: IT'S DUE FRIDAY OCT 26.

For my education class I am reading, Read Boy's Voices by Dr. William Pollack. It is an incredible collection of accounts from male adolescents who, to sum it up in short, suffer from being wedged into society's "masculine identity" and thusly feel ashamed of having emotions and cannot talk to anyone about how they feel. 

It's been eye-opening for me to read this, it's made me consider all of the males I know and I can't help but ask myself, "Do they still, in their twenties, feel this way?" 

So here's the project. 

I'm asking you (male or female,) to write a letter to your adolescent self giving advice. Consider a tough time you went through, what would you say to yourself now? Are the things that were so important to you then, still important to you now? 

These letters will be anonymous, and compiled into a book which will hopefully help adolescents in the future. They can read the letters and say, "Huh, this person went through exactly the same stuff I'm going through and yeah, it was pretty awful for them too, but they turned out okay." 

You can mail me anonymous letters by sending them to 79 Chase St Apt B, Burlington VT 05401
OR- submit your letters here:
http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/MKPNPH6
THANK YOU SO MUCH.
And of course, if the project goes well, you can expect to read a blog post about it. : )

The Silverfish Infestation. Enjoy.

This is Ned. Ned lives in 79 Chase St Apartment B. With some of his pals. When I say "some" I haven't the foggiest idea of just how many of Ned's pals have moved in. I imagine the whole process went something like this:

     Emily and Karlie were tucked nicely into their beds on a cool August evening. It had been a long day. I, the narrator, don't know what they had been doing, but likely it was a collection of many hours chasing children around, encountering weird child-bathroom issues, sitting in front of Final Cut screaming at the screen, and practicing flute. They had fallen into such a deep sleep that nothing could have woken them. Not even the record-breaking dance party that was to be held in their kitchen in the wee hours of the morn.
     Meanwhile, just outside of 79B, tucked into a little hollowed log, a family of Silverfish gathered. Ned was a man. His parents looked on approvingly at the changes that had taken place for him. His mother, Anita, wiped tears from her stupid little bug eyes for she knew that the day would soon come when Ned would leave her and have his way with maybe thousands of other Silverfish ladies, but, who can really say for sure? Rudiger wiggled over to Ned, put a stupid little tentacle thing on Ned's scaly back and said, "Son, tonight, you'll have to make your way into the house, and spend your first night away from the colony." Ned, shuddered slightly, but then puffed up his stupid little bug chest, and announced to the many Silverfish that had gathered near, "Yes. Tonight I leave you! It's been swell. Good day." And with that, he turned his god-awful tail to them and wiggled out into the brisk air.
     The night was alive with possibility. Ned couldn't help but flick his antennae incessantly smelling or tasting or feeling all the new tastes/smells/feels. He carried on until his disgusting stubby legs landed him on the doorstep, of none other, than 79B Chase St. Every millimeter of his stupid blue-grey body writhed with excitement. "Too bad the door wasn't left open for me." Ned seemed to wither with disappointment. "Oh wait! I'm a disgusting insect and I can just slither right in through the smallest cracks that you wouldn't even know were there! PERFECT."
So he did.
     Two hours later Ned returned to his colony panting. His stupid little bug lungs felt like a marshmallow that had fallen into a bonfire, slowly inflating to a fiery puff-just to explode and die. But sadly, Ned did not die. No, in fact, Ned and his disagreeable companions would likely live for eight solid years. Human years. Eight of them. "FAMILY FAMILY FAMILY FAMILY!" He screamed between gasps of air. The silent night was rudely interrupted by the sound of trillions of miniature legs tapping across the earth as they gathered around Ned. "Oh good, you're all here," Ned shouted. "Look, I've returned from the house, and I really think you should come check it out. It's pretty sweet. Lots of stuff to eat. And although we Silverfish can live UP TO A YEAR without eating, we might as well go eat their stuff. And, not just food my friends! We can eat their clothes, and wallpaper, and magazines, and books, and glue! Oh! And if we go into the bathroom or maybe into their pillows we can find some yummy dead skin to munch on!" A thunderous cry rose from the bazillion grey bodies that pulsated in a wave through the colony.
     At 2 am, the kitchen on 79B was bumpin'. Streams of Silverfish flowed from the cabinets and counters down to floor. On their backs were suspended the treats that Emily and Karlie had recently purchased. Cookies, sugars, crackers, any morsels of sweet the bugs could find, ended up in the Sahara-like feeding grounds that had become the kitchen floor. Silverfish ravenously tour into the starchy treats as though they were carcasses of wildebeests. In the extreme chaos and overwhelming joy that filled the room, Ned took a moment to step back. He had brought this divine pleasure to his family. He was a hero.
     At 4 am Ned had consumed twelve cookies, eighteen goldfishes, a stacks of chocolate chips and had bathed in brown sugar. He lay on his back, his wee legs dangling in the air like wind-blown lawn ornaments. "Ned?" A sultry female voice came from behind him. After a few attempts to roll his bloated body over, Ned faced this staggering creature before him. Moonlight bounced off the scales on her back, and her antennae were silken and gold. "I...uh...yes?" He stammered, like the idiot that he likely was, because after all, he's a Silverfish. And that's disgusting.
     "Hi, I'm Starla. I just wanted to thank you for bringing my family and me here. We were getting hungry, and I've really enjoyed gnawing through the television wires."
     "Of course, I... I'm glad you like it here." Ned gathered his courage. "You know, Starla, you and I could stay here forever."
     "Oh, Ned, I'll love it!"
     And then they did something sort of bizarre, but as to give you the full picture of a Silverfish's life, I as the narrator, feel compelled to recount. For the next half hour they completed the mating ritual. They moved through three phases. Ned and Starla stood "face to face, their trembling antennae touching, then repeatedly backed off and returned to this position." When they felt satisfied with this, Ned ran away from Starla, as is usual in the second phase of reproduction. She chased him through the ever-growing crowd of Silverfish. He leapt over his brothers and sisters, dove under the Twizzler at the center of the limbo-party, and narrowly escaped being doused by a powdered-sugar waterfall. Through all of this, Starla chased him- she was in love. When she finally caught him, Ned knew that she was faithful. They "stood side by side, head-to-tail. Ned vibrated his tail against [Starla's]. Finally, [Ned] laid a spermatophore, a sperm capsule covered in gossamer, which the [Starla] took into her body via her ovipositor to fertilise the eggs."
    It was so shockingly beautiful that the whole Silverfish community applauded. But suddenly-they froze in silence. Thuds could be heard from the stairwell. Staggered, sleepy, thuds. 
     "Emily... are you down here? What are you doing?" came a tired and irritated voice.
Bazillions of Silverfish scattered into the depths of 79B Chase St. Karlie stepped into the kitchen, and seeing that nothing but shreds of... everything, lay on the floor, she simply fainted.
From their various nooks, the Silverfish exchanged high fives and pats on the back. 

They had successfully pillaged the house. And they all agreed that it would make a very, very nice place to live. Forever. And ever. Like, they will never leave this house.



The End.


Mating ritual taken from Wikipedia. So, you know, take that with a grain of salt.

Summer of Theatre

    I've been editing St. Lawrence's graduation for the past five days. I will never write a blog about that. But I do want to share the joke told by one of the honorary degree recipients.

Man: Doctor, I think there's something wrong with me...I think I'm a moth.
Doc: Well, I'm just a general pediatrician, I think you need to see a psychiatrist.
Man: I was on my way to a psychiatrist when I saw the light on in your office...

Drum set noises.

This blog post is about my summer of theatre. Not love. No, no. Not my summer of love.
UNLESS IT'S ABOUT LOVE OF THEATRE!

Drum set noises.

Let's stumble through the summer in order of theatrical experiences.

1. GIA
     At Governor's Institute on the Arts I got to hang out with so many young people that brought with them pocket-fulls, no bucket-fulls of theatre experience. I met the characters they created, heard their stories, watched their physical transformations, heard their voices. I laughed more loudly than appropriate at so many sketches born from collaborative noggins. And I got to play countless improv games with people who think oh-so-much faster than I.

2. Abby Wicker in, "Mauritius" by Theresa Rebeck.
     As always seeing Abby perform in a professional, local theatre is so inspiring. Again, I laughed at inappropriate times, but was also so moved by each character at many points in the show. I left the theatre having consumed a large cookie and feeling frustrated that I haven't been in a show since my senior year of high school.

3. SPAE, and its production of "Robin Hood."
     If you still haven't heard about SPAE, go read previous blog posts. But I will now speak to the theatrical aspects of SPAE as opposed to the human growth and community building. The classic pattern of SPAE is as follows: the first day we play many games- but try to avoid full-blown improv games. By the second day though, we're improvising. And it's crazy. (So here's my-) There is screaming, violence, running away, so much talk about poop, so much denying of the realities, so little listening, and so much desire for the focus to be on you. This year, I finally calmed down enough to allow this craziness to happen. And the result, I found to be magical. After the third day of full-blown crazy, we froze the campers and simply asked, "What makes this work?" or, "Why do you think this isn't working?"
And their answers, unprompted, were as follows:
     -We're not listening to each other.
     -We're not following, "Yes, and" (A general rule that if a player establishes a reality, 
      the other players must accept it as a truth.)
     -We're not establishing who we are and where we are.
     These are ideas and guidelines that I didn't understand until waaaay older than ten years old. In these moments where we could freeze the action and discuss what was going on, I knew that what we were doing was effective. The craziness began to morph into beautiful moments-moments with character depth, believable situations with hilarious twists and turns, and people reacting honestly.
      And, also... we put on a show. Twice. Memorizing lines, songs, dances, blocking... knowing and executing costume changes...remembering props... All of this in ten days. We, as a community, astonish ourselves, year after year. And these 8 and 3/4 to 13 year olds are exposed to something that I think is lost in some theatres- (Yeah, modesty is lost in this blog post, long hair-don't care,) a sense of professionalism. Our campers learn that when the house is opened, they may no longer walk out in costume. They learn about all of the things that you shouldn't do onstage, (chew gum-or anything, upstage each other, focus on anything but the action on stage, cross their arms, put hands in pockets, upstage each other... the list goes on) they learn not to touch anyone else's props, and make sure that their own are set before the show. They learn not to eat in costume. And so importantly, they learn about strike. Our player's community sets up, and takes down our entire theatre space- as we actually work in a gymnasium. Everyone helps. Many hands make light work. These concepts-though seemingly small to an experienced player- are hugely importantly for these young folks to start learning early on.

4. Weston Playhouse's production of "Fiddler on the Roof,"
     With a cast including Leland and Gray (and SPAE's) own Jesse Canella. I could not have been more proud of him. From watching him crawl through the audience entrance in an enormous crocodile costume in "Peter Pan," five years ago- to working in a professional company as a little boy in knickers. 
I worked hard to hold in tears. I left this performance again frustrated with my non-involvement with the theatrical arts, but so inspired by the production the team had created.

5. The Skinner Barn Playhouse's production of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood." 
    My amigo Julien Darmoni's family runs this theatre in Waitsfield and I was privileged enough to see this hysterical production just a few nights ago. Again, I found myself laughing loudly/inappropriately at the villain character while the rest of the audience hissed. Each member of this cast was such an endearing and recognizable stock character. I fell in love with this show. 
And again, left feeling completely and utterly frustrated with my non endeavors. Oy.

So, here's this. I'm going to audition for "Rent" at the Lyric Theatre. You know. For fun. To practice auditioning. And... to get a chance, however brief, to perform on the stage of the Flynn. 
And you know, if anyone wants to cast me in anything else... lemmmmme know. Ja?

xoxoxox,
Gilmore Girl.

I mean-?


PS: Check out my guest blog post on Tricia Souder's Blog!

SPAE Final-ayyy. Get it? Like finale, but it rhymes.

    Lights up on Emily and Karlie in their living room, twilight bouncing off the sleek, wooden floors. (Note that "twilight" is not capitalized, which means I'm setting the time of day and describing the quality of light. Sometimes I get nervous that anyone under fifteen doesn't know that "twilight" is more than a book title. Our living room is not full of vampires.) At stage left, Emily reclines in the puffy chair that wouldn't fit into Tricia's house, but slid with ease through the door of 79B Chase Street. She strums a guitar with Rise Up Singing perched in her lap. The rain puddling outside the open windows accompanies her as she floats from folk song to folk song. Up center sits Karlie, typing on her lap top. It's sizzling the top of her lap. Lap, of course, being only of temporary existence. She is overcome with guilt because SPAE ended a week ago and she didn't write a concluding blog post like she promised herself she would. And she felt so guilty that she stopped typing in third person and stopped pretending that the living room is actually a set on a stage.
  
     SO YEAH! SPAE ENDED.
And, as I anticipated, it ended with an enormous feeling of delight. And bliss.
I mentioned in a previous blog post about the growth from year one to year five of SPAE-this feeling of growth was one thousand times magnified by the second performance of "Robin Hood." As Claire, Johnny, Melissa and I stood on stage presenting our curtain speech, I couldn't help but think about what amazing events had taken place over the two weeks of the program.
Shall I make a list?
Let's shall.

The Amazing Events (however seemingly small or grand) of SPAE 2012

• Together we created a gallery behind the bleachers in the gym- oh I mean our theatre space. Lit by two sets of tree lights and constructed with about three zillions shreds of duct tape, our gallery was filled with costume designs, make up designs, poetry, and sculptures made from dominoes, buttons, fake grass, playing cards, and whatever else Claire gathered from around Southern Vermont. Games of "Writey-Drawey" hung in strips down the wall, and our ideas about what it means to be a Community covered the final stretch- a colored-marker mess of adjectives, nouns, verbs, and a surprisingly long list of celebrity names, (that was a first for this activity.)

• We put on a show! "Robin Hood" was brought to life by thirty 8 and 3/4 to 13 year olds. We battled with sticks, we marched through the marketplace belting "Phony King of England," we created three dimensional characters who made us laugh, made us angry, plucked at our heart strings, sang to us, and gave us hope. From Prince John and his Love whose list of pet names for each other topped off at about 15-to the Merry Men making a clumsy and belated entrance only to sing a rousing rendition of "Men in Tights." AND- Robin's team battled the royal court using STOMP.

• A community was built. Beautiful moments filled every day and showed me that our community was working. Whether it was a more experienced camper helping a less experienced one write down blocking for a scene, or actors covering for each other when lines were forgotten, or a CIT encouraging everyone to sit with someone new each day. It was working. Of course there were snags, there were moments when each of us was pushed to our limit- campers, CITs, and directors alike-but the support we offered each other was enough to carry us through until we found our grounding again.

• One day as folks meandered into the gym after lunch to begin rehearsing, two campers began to play "Imagine" and slowly the entire camp had gathered around the piano and was singing along. 

• Campers who felt certain that they were far more comfortable back stage than on it, bounded out under the lights and conquered their stage fright.

• We ate a lot of good food.

• All thirty-eight of us danced to a number of pop songs. And I mean danced. At one point there was a thirty-eight person conga line. Imagine that. It's funny. Laugh.

• We answered some goofy and thought-provoking questions in videos. Here they are.

                                                    THE SPAE 2012 ARTFESSIONAL

     There were as many moments as there were pieces of duct tape on the wall. I can't write about them all, I didn't see them all. I also have the attention span of an emu. Which is to say that I have a short attention span. I made an assumption about emus. And you know what they say about people who assume things. 

     In conclusion, (don't ever start the conclusion of an academic paper with "in conclusion," but this is a blog post so I get to make up the rules,) the fifth year of SPAE has taught me about being in the moment, explaining things clearly, taking time to look people in the eye, and encouraging the most wild and rambunctious creativity that we can muster.

Thanks y'all! (I say "y'all" which is a contraction of "you all" because it isn't socially acceptable to say "you guys" to a group of multi-gender campers. Or students. Or people. Y'all are welcome.)

PS: Read this. Emily Fuller's Blog. FToA. 

(Future Teacher of America.)

SaturSPAE: Alternately titled, "I have to go find a unicorn"

I picked up the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone deciding that now would be an appropriate time to reread the series, and then started feeling guilty so I put together one of the Artfessionals instead.

As promised, here are some responses to the question, "What does S.P.A.E. really stand for?"

     As week one came to a close on Friday afternoon, we reflected on all that we had accomplished together. We'd had two movement workshops lead by L+G alum Michaela Tietz where the SPAE-ers collaborated to choreograph their own dances. We had two music workshops with Ron Kelley where they learned some STOMP and made up their own Woodsy-Jam to use as part of the Sherwood Forrest. We cast "Robin Hood" and blocked more than 75% of the show.

     We built props, designed costumes and makeup, learned songs, had dance parties, assassinated each other, chopped each other in half, and through improvisation created around 50 tiny scenes together about the strangest stuff. My favorite scene that was built from improvisation was a secret Hokey-Pokey society that met in strange places to do the dance. We never established why it was so important that they do the dance, but there was always a real sense of urgency.

     Each year there are sort of hot topics that end up reoccurring in many improvised scenes. This year too many seemingly normal scenes ended in either a zombie apocalypse or one of the characters leaving to find a unicorn.

     Week one left me feeling simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated. There was still so much to be done on the show- but we had come so far as a community that I wasn't concerned so much with learning our lines and blocking our scenes.

What mattered was that we, in our individual pods and as the whole group, had gotten really good at "Big Booty," Screaming if we made eye contact with each other, and perhaps most importantly, supporting each other through everything we'd come across.

Week 2 will surely send us on an even more varied, hyper-active, pop-song-filled, character building-community-building, and getting-covered-in-paint adventure.

Robin's A Girl? ThurSPAE

So, sadly I missed three days of blogging about SPAE, but better fourth than never.
S.P.A.E.
Someplace Producing Artistic Expression.
Sortof Productive Archers Emote.
So Please, Anybody Entertainme!


No. It really stands for Summer Performing Arts Explorations.
But I bet I fooled you for a second there.


This is our fifth summer, our best summer, the most energetic, and art-packed summer, yet.
The summer of 15 girls and 15 boys.
Yes you read that correctly, we have 50% male players at SPAE. An arts camp.
Because, I think the word got out, people who are males also make art.


There was a long and list-filled blog post about our intended show, "The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe." Forget about it, because we switched the show to "Robin Hood."
I could spend a lot of time talking about why we're not doing Narnia, but as we said to the campers, it's much more interesting to discuss why we ARE doing Robin Hood.


List 1:
(In our version, which is largely original material by Claire, Johnny, and myself:)
-Robin is A GIRL.
-Little Jackie, Narcy (short for Narcoleptic,) and Achoo, (yes, we overuse the joke, don't worry) are her gang of tall, strong, women who battle throughout the Sherwood Forrest.
-The Sheriff of Nottingham has a son, Liam, who turns his back on his bloodline and joins Robin in her efforts to right the wrongs of Prince John-
-Who is pretty hysterical himself- frequently getting so excited by things that he gets too flustered to function as an authority figure, and is sometimes reminded by his Love that he has responsibilities. But, that being said-
-His Love is nearly as pathetic as he, using around 15 different bizarre pet names throughout the show to express her affection for her Love.
-We get to sing and dance in a back-woodsy feel. Which is probably the funniest thing to watch 8-13 year olds do.


So much has changed from our first year to fifth year.


List 2:
-Our staff went from Claire and I as directors with Annie Landenberger as Managing Director,
to Claire, Johnny, Melissa and I as directors with Annie and Abby Wicker as Managing Directors.
Not to mention that we currently have five C.I.T.s working with us all day, learning the ropes.
-We have 30 campers. In 2008 we had 11.
-Last year's show was about an hour and forty-five minutes. "Peter Pan," in 2008, was forty-five minutes.
- We have a pretty good sense of what we're doing, and have a grip on reality.
In 2008 Claire and I actually wrote out the definition of "Winging It" in the dictionary.
This list could go on, and on, and on.


This brings me to this year and,
What I've learned in the past four days.


List 3:
-I will ALWAYS laugh when we asks youths to do the grapevine in a circle. (Not the foot grapevine, the alternate-hand-grab-pass-by-partner grapevine. Is there a better word for this, all you contra-dancers out there?) There is just something so perplexing for some folks about using your non-dominant to shake a hand. And watching the chaos that ensues supplies me with an endless amount of comic material.
-New is not worse. Half of our campers are new to SPAE this year. This is a first. Yes, we have to cover the basics of stage direction, blocking, projection, diction, stage presence, and pretty much everything to do with acting technique -but that hardly matters when the presentation is met with overflowing enthusiasm and eagerness to learn. And these new folks, for whom nothing is routine at SPAE- they absorb everything. They bring pencils onstage with them, they don't upstage others, they turn people around who've got their backs to the audience. My mind is blown every few seconds.
-Brains that have not been exposed to the "Right Way To Do Things" offer endless ideas on how to approach a project or problem. It's as if I don't need to think at all because frankly-they think so much faster, and better than I do.
-I will ALWAYS involuntarily jump and clap when faced with 30 adolescents doing STOMP in rows across the gym floor. Thank you Ron Kelley. And- South Burlington High School, prepare yourself for my student teaching. Yes, we'll do chorus, but we'll also be stomping.


And perhaps most importantly, I am constantly reminded:
That I know so little, and though sometimes I feel like I've had a lot of experiences, or I've prepared for many situations, I am so completely capable of being surprised by the creativity and lifefullness of our gang at SPAE. Campers, CITs, and always, my co-counselors, Abby and Annie.


I look forward to every minute I spend with all of you, and let's continue trying to slow down this time together.




PS: We stole the ARTFESSIONAL from Governor's Institute. Tomorrow's question is what does SPAE really stand for? Stay posted for answers, which will be FAR more interesting than mine.

Governor's Institute on the Arts, 2012.

This blog post is a processing blog post, it's not meant to entertain, or really give insight into what life at GIA is like. That's something I work on describing to people every day.  ("NO DISCLAIMERS." comes a shout from the crowd.)


A week ago I parted ways with the students, faculty, and staff of the Governor's Institute on the Arts.
As many of us find, there is a certain amount of culture shock and readjustment that you have to face when being catapulted back into..."real life." From finding myself surrounded by a group of people and not having at least one of them humming the Mango song at all times, to rooms with blank walls not covered in maps, figure drawings, carvings, sculptures, paintings, floor plans, prints, and silhouettes.
I am twenty years old, but after leaving GIA I find myself sitting and just plain pouting. Feeling sorry for myself and my days in Burlington that are not spent with 140 people singing in the morning, classes in all of the arts, workshops in napping, spitting like a Blue Man, and beat-boxing, and evening performances and presentations by people who are way cooler than I will likely ever be. Does this seem fair?


So I pout for a while.
But then I remember that I am not five years old, but twenty and I not only have coping mechanisms for when I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I have ways of steering my brain in a more constructive direction.


I consider what I've learned.
What I can take away.
Who I can share it with.
And how I can share it.


These are questions that I know all of the students, RAs, faculty, RADmin, and folks who just bop around at Castleton with us ask themselves throughout the year that they are away from GIA.
I'm finding that the answers aren't straight forward. And the questions are sort of intimidating.
But I like to pick up seemingly small answers for these considerations because they seem more manageable. And maybe once enough manageable answers have piled up, I will have a better-shorter answer.
Verandah, a poet, musician, mother, teacher (among many, many other things,) likes lists- and as I've often found in blog posts, lists help my brain to be less of an electrically-charged-mush-ball.


What have I learned?
I learned to juggle. Sort of.
I learned the proper ratio of coffee/sugar/milk/ice for iced coffee.
I learned about the strength of listening vs. talking.
I learned that "All ideas are valuable, but no ideas are sacred."
I learned that the power of an idea is so strong, that though that idea might be discarded immediately, it will already have sparked a thousand other ideas.
I learned about being scared, (this is something I seem to learn a lot about from a lot of different things.)
I learned what it's like to support someone, and let yourself be supported,
and how to say "I love you" in Japanese,
and feeling humble,
and giving hugs,
and hand squeezes,
and jazz standards,
and how to play a high G on trombone,
and differences,
and yelling, laughing, crying, singing, whispering, and
holding in yelling, laughing, and crying.
I learned about showing not telling.
I learned about asking.


What can I take away?
I take away inspiration.
And this inspiration fills me so full that it lasts me for the year until I run out after the second week of June.
Inspiration evolves into energy, excitement, desire, passion, and ability.


Who can I share it with/How?
The hardest consideration because there are exactly one zillion ways in which I could adjust my "real life" to be more like my "GIA life." And of course, there's nothing "unreal" about GIA life-and so from my work with younger people, my age people, and older people-to filling the walls of my bedroom-to the eye contact I make-to the risks that I take (woah, almost became a Sting song.)-and the community I will always try to build and be a part of: I share GIA.


Thank you, you all know who you are.

Where Is Karlie Going Tomorrow?

Allow me to say what everyone else is thinking: Summer is going by faster than the speed of light. And sound. And a cheetah. Faster than the speed of light and sound riding on a cheetah which is the fastest animal. And they are falling down a waterfall, which maybe would really slow them down quite a bit, but I've been looking at some waterfalls recently and thinking that the water is falling awfully fast.

So that is what Summer is doing, and I know I speak for my fellow soon-to-be-seniors when I say that the faster that Summer goes, the sooner the school year will be upon us, and then end, and then our real lives will have to begin. And let's be honest, no one wants that.

-I've lived in 79 Chase St Apt B for 21 days now. 

-I've spent more time on the telephone with Comcast than I have with my mother.

(Here is where I rant about how NO ONE should ever sign up with Comcast. Just imagine me ranting, smoke coming out of my ears, arms flailing, burning holes in walls with my laser eyes, etc, etc.)

-I've watched more Disney movies and sung along to more Disney songs than I have since I was 7.

-I've swam (swum?) more laps in a pool than I ever have because up until May I didn't believe that fun could be had in a pool if one person wasn't saying "Marco" and a whole slew of sun-burned rugrats wasn't screaming "Polo."

-I have dissected "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" to no end with Claire, wrote 20 pages of a half script, and discarded it, spitting on my copy of the book and shouting vulgarities from the second floor of 79 Chase. (By the way, the SPAE show is now Robin Hood. Either climb on board or hop off the train. We're chugging.)

I've done some other stuff too... like edited Wesleyan's graduation ceremony where the student speaker screamed his entire speech so loudly that I had to cut his volume in half. And I've watched some other movies with some more-than-decent people, observed a woodchuck and a rabbit, and read Eat, Pray, Love-from which I've adopted the Balinese meditation technique of "Sitting and Smiling."

But, my Summer is really about to start tomorrow, when I ship off to Castleton to be an RA at the Governor's Institute on the Arts. I will spend two weeks doing all sorts of bizarre things that I cannot even begin to predict in order to describe to you here. At the VERY least, I will eat three meals a day and put 14 high school girls to bed. What happens in between those markers, well I guess you'll just have to read my blog over the next two weeks to find out.

OHHHHHHH! NICE ONE KARLIE.

Here's something cool that would be very much up GIA's alley.

A friend who is not the worst posted it.

Music, Heart, and a tired Disco Ball.

It's been a while. Too long.
I just finished Jonathan Safran-Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and I got to thinking about how neat and terrific the writing is, and how I like to write, and how I wish that I wrote more, and how I wish I had something interesting to write about...and then I remembered about this blog.
It's daunting to write after such a blog-hiatus, because I'm sure a ton of junk has happened-now I have to decide which pieces of the junk are worth writing about.
I've been getting really into "American Pickers" lately.


It's summer now. (I apologize if you're a public school teacher or student. It's not summer for you. Just for me. And many of my friends. And teachers.) I got home last night, and will move into my new apartment in Burlington on June 1st. I will begin my last year of being a college student and not having responsibilities and not being in debt this September. I will be a real person in less than a year.
But, that's in the future. Now is the time for reflection.


What I have learned since March.


MUSIC
    I ate the strangest musical gumbo of my musical life in these past few months.
1. Mis amigos Lindsey and Scott joined me in auditioning for the concerto competition hosted by the
UVM Symphony Orchestra, singing a trio from Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte.
It was something that excited me-because the winner was given the incredible opportunity to perform with the orchestra, but also because my "primary instrument" is flute, and I wanted to either make a statement, or test myself, or prove something to someone... I don't know, it was maybe a little angsty.
ANYWAY- we won! So I dug out an old prom dress, strapped high heels onto feet that are attached to an already very tall body, and strolled out onto the stage in front of the orchestra and sang the crap out of that song. Mezzo Soprano-for those who are interested. OH YEAH-we got plaques.
Here's a video.

2. I played trombone in the UVM Jazz Ensemble, less formally known as the Big Band. I'm awful at trombone, and remained fairly awful, but lord how I tried. I hardly practiced, got great at moving my slide around without actually playing, and was exposed to a new breed of human being. I won't go into it in this public venue, but jazz-cat I am not. OH YEAH- we went on a "tour" and now I'm famous.
3. I taught high school chorus as my final practicum course. It was a blast, and found my mentor teacher for student teaching, glory, glory, hallelujah.
I learned about pressure, I learned about leading and following. I learned about how you need contrasts and you need information from so many drastically different art forms, genres, and styles to create your own music.


HEARTS
     At the end of March my dad had a triple bypass. That's when you are horizontal and a team of highly qualified individuals saws a line down your sternum, pulls your ribs apart, takes some veins from your legs to create new paths to bring blood to and from your heart. No. Big. Deal.
I learned about being scared, I learned about being thankful, I learned about being strong, nervous, and angry. I learned about being happy. I learned about seeing your dad unconscious on a hospital bed, and I learned about having no words say to the man who is supposed to be the protector, the strength, the beating heart of your life-when he is lying like that on a bed. He is doing so well now, everyday is hard-but everyday is a day of life. I learned about the strength of both my mom and dad.
    That being said, I learned some things about life, and the way you live it, and the people you touch around you while you do so. One of my best friend's father passed away. I learned about wanting to hug someone for a thousand years and wanting to give them everything that they've ever wanted, but not being able to. But at the memorial for this beautiful man, I learned about love and the  celebration of life, versus the mourning of death. That is a day that will stay with me forever.


DISCO BALLS
    Yesterday some of my best friends and I spent hours together locked in 20 Fletcher Place, where we lived for the last year. During those hours we steam rolled through a whole mess of emotions. The righteousness we felt when we were fighting our landlady, the defeatedness we felt when she was winning, the unjustness we felt as we did work on that house that was far beyond our responsibility, and the absolute joyreliefecstacybliss when we walked through the house with her for the final time and she told us she'd give us our entire security deposit back. I think most breathtakingly was the unmeasured love we felt for each other in the moments after she closed the door that we jumpedscreamedhuggedflewdancedransangcried and laughed.
    Living in that house was a constant challenge, but also a source of some of the best memories of my life. My disco ball dropped dead twice because of how often we dance around it. I, and it, will never be the same. I learned about love and family.


And now, it's summer. And I couldn't be happier.

Narnia: A First Glimpse at SPAE 2012

This summer is Leland and Gray’s Summer Performing Arts Explorations (SPAE)’s 5^th anniversary. What is that, like…tin or something? No, it’s silver. I looked it up.  This year we'll take on the challenge of adapting C. S . Lewis’ The Lion the Witch and the Wardobe. 

When the show was decided upon for this summer I actually had never read or seen the story. In fact, I was confusing it with “The Golden Compass” as I was under the impression that it would involve a girl riding a polar bear. (Only in my dreams, sigh.)

Having decided that the preexisting music (from a bizarre play adaptation,) was not going to be fitting for our players, I realized I would have to write the music. (Those of you that know me know that this is not only a great fear of mine, but I’m generally pretty inept at it.) That being said, I got right on reading the book and watching the movie.

            Having finished both, I am left feeling insecure about our choice. When writing our scripts we like to lean more on the book for our dialogue and plot line. But I have to say that I didn’t really enjoy C. S. Lewis’ book. Woops. I thought the writing was sub par but where it lacked in description it made up for in hard core religious content. Not something I want to put onstage with 35 public school kids.

            I was also disappointed in the lack of character development. I’d say that two of the main children grow and change, but pretty much everyone else in the story stays exactly the same. And let’s just for a moment consider all of the other stories where children find a new, magical world in order to leave behind the crappy one they’re living in. Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan,  The Wizard of Oz, Coraline,  to name a few. (Three of which we’ve already performed with SPAE…our audience is surely getting sick of this plot!)

            But… for all of my concerns, I am excited about quite a few different things. I don’t even know if I should be blogging about this because I think I’ll be spoiling it for this summer’s group of SPAE-ers (a surprising amount of which have Facebook and will read this… Get off the computer and go play outside!)

            1. There are four main children that travel to the new world.

Look at our past shows-Peter. Alice. Charlie. Coraline. ONE IS THE LONLIEST NUMBER. So now not only do more players get a chance to do their thaaang, we get to build a nice sibling dynamic. Tasty!

2. The movie does a terrific job of painting the picture of the world that the children are leaving. It’s set during WWII in London during the bombings. The children are evacuated from their homes and shipped off on a train to be taken in by generous families. See now, that makes sense. C. S. Lewis… HELP US OUT. Why are they in a big old house with a Professor they don’t know? Gawwwd. This is the first time that we'll be dealing with a historical event of this weight.

3. Aslan the Lion. He is going to be a fun, fun, fun character to develop AND, the cast is enormous. Which is perfect for us. Beavers, foxes, witches. The whole gang.

4. The Set. (That’s Johnny and Claire's territory. But I'm excited for them.)

5. I get to see how Claire will turn a child into a Faun. That’s really the biggest draw for me I think.

Have ideas on how to get around religious content, staging enormous battle scenes, or other input about Narnia? Hit us up. We like to steal people’s ideas and probably not credit them. 

OH AND RESERVE YOUR SPOT FOR SPAE 2012! email kauffee.karlie@yahoo.com

CHECK OUT OUR WEBSITE: https://sites.google.com/site/karliekauffeld11/

1/2 Spring Semester

Woooooops,
It's Spring Break which means we're halfway through the semester, and I've only written once during it.. My B.
I would feel really uncomfortable just completely ignoring all the things that have happened in the first .5 of the semester, so I'm going to make a list. Probably, as a reader, you will care very little about them. But spewing these events into a blog post will allow me to move forward and write about future events in more depth.

Okay... so since the end of January I have:
-Turned 20 years of age, jesus when did twenty years go by/what have I done with my life thus far? Ugh.
-I can cross over with both feet now on ice, AND do a left backwards crossover. Not to mention hop and spin and switch feet and crazy stuff. But before y'all get too excited, I am by no means headed towards that triple axle crap...I immediately want to throw up when I spin, 'nuff said.
-I built up a tiny amount of lip muscle playing trombone! I can fake my way pretty well through the two toughest big band pieces, and play the rest without sounding miserable. However-I am no jazz cat. Alex Stewart will likely never be saying to me, "Take another helping" in reference to my soloing.
(to follow up though, I lost all of the lip muscle over this break. kudos to me.)
-David Neiweem my choral conductor/voice mentor gave a ridiculous recital. I love when the faculty just whip it out. Meaning they keep their talent all tucked away until BAM RECITAL TIME MUSIC IN YOUR FACE. That's what I meant by whip it out. Were you concerned?
-My flute teacher gave me music I enjoy.
-I completed my Djembe/Conga class. I'm afraid I won't retain the info, but I know about the three different pitches the drums can make and I can produce the sounds. That's a start.
-We started our Choral Music Practicum and I am in absolute awe of the teacher. After watching her I sometimes sit and consider how I can just become her. I'm thinking very strongly of student teaching with her. WHICH IS COMING UP REALLY SOON.
-I went to Montreal with Tricia, Molly, Shannon, and Sheilagh. IT WAS A BLAST. We rocked at being classic college kids. I was proud. Bed bugs in the hotel, Molly saying "bonjour" to everyone we passed, eating poutine twice a day, and dancing off all of the poutine calories. Success.
-Andrew Simeone deleted his facebook.
-There's a cat named Lincoln living in Fletcher Place now, but I call him Brother. In fact, I think I'm going to start calling all masculine things in Fletcher Place, Brother. "Heyyy Brother."
-I've gone through about three water bottles, all of which belonged to Molly. The most recent one was compared to the International Space Station. I lost its cap under a car.
-oh yeah, Atlatl finally came to Burlington. aka: I went to "Metal Monday" at Nectar's. Good bye hearing at the age of 40.

Alright. We're caught up. thank god. I know you were all getting really freaked out. And by all I mean my mother, because she is who reads this. Over and Out.

"You're so much more than you're currently demonstrating."

That's the title of the playlist Tricia found for me to listen to while I wrote this. Nice.
Cheggout her blog. She does cool stuff just like I do. http://lastminutecreations.wordpress.com/

A month is a long time to be away from school. It's long enough to forget the pace at which you are required to move, to produce results, to achieve. It's also long enough to forget the feeling of your brain starting to get all bunched up in your skull because it's throbbing from the rapid intake of information. I've heard boxers get all bunched up in jeans. My brain doesn't like it, so I feel for all you boxer-wearers.

I'm going to make a list of why this is bound to be the best semester yet.

-In my ice skating class there are girls doing jumps and triple spins. But the teacher is so laid back that I am allowed to just zoom around the ice skating rink. I'm working on my left crossover, I'll keep you posted.

-Jazz improv is taught by a great teacher who's a total hoot.
Here's a quote to give you a taste: "Don't play right now. You play it, I'll transcribe it."

-I'm playing trombone with the jazz band. This is an ensemble that I've dreamed of being in since I arrived at UVM. They took me completely out of desperation, but he said he loved my enthusiasm, and now, well...I'm in it...I'm playing swung eighth notes...I have rarely been happier.

-I'm taking trombone lessons with a teacher who supports me, is generally excited about trombone, seems to like me, and enjoys teaching. It's weird. Definitely not something I've gotten used to over the past two and half years. I mean...what?

-I'm going to learn how to conduct. A conductor unifies musical interpretations...and also has to be coordinated, musical, beautiful, and in charge all at once. Needless to say, I've got my hands full.
Full of a baton with a handle made from wood called "Santos-Zebra"...so I have high hopes.

-I'm in a hand drumming class playing the Djembe and Conga. It's 2 hours of playing with interjections of philosophy lessons. We have to journal. I am psyched.

-And perhaps most importantly, we have made recent discoveries about our landlord. On Wednesday morning I came out of music history to find her sitting in the lobby of the music building. She looked just as confused to see me as I was to see her. (Which...is wrong.) She told me that she's taking private lessons in composition. Apparently she composes all the time.
Well, after a little research we found out that it's not only music that she composes, but children's books.
Cheggit out.
http://www.amazon.com/Martha-R.-Lang/e/B004E9LT3U

So, like I said...Best Semester Ever.
Join me in the celebration.
xoxo Gossip Girl.
Oh wait, no.


PS: if anyone reading this has a blog please send me the link, I want to follow other people but I don't know how to find y'all.

A Year Resolves, and We Resolve

As I considered my resolutions for the new year I came up with three wildly important things:

Move Yo' Body
I learned about this program from two of my housemates Sheilagh and Molly.
http://www.c25k.com/
The Couch to 5k Program is a build up to being able to run really fast for a thousand miles.
I am not exaggerating.
Yes I am.
As the weeks progress you increase the amount of time you run and decrease the amount of time you power walk. (Though I read somewhere that you actually burn more calories power-walking, hmmm.)
I am resolving to be active as frequently as my schedule allows.
I am a much happier person when I am using my body, and this past semester took a toll on me emotionally largely due to the fact that I had no time to do anything good for my body, my barreh, if you will.
SO BAM- Couch to 5k AND ALSO I'm taking a figure skating class twice a week.
Can't wait, call me Kristine Yamaguchi. Or don't, because I won't respond.

I Play Flute and Stuff
Secondly, I resolve to find a way to love flute again.
For some of you reading this, you may have just winced and thought, "Doesn't she go to school for flute?"
Yeah well, surprise. Sometimes all it takes is one human with really poor people skills to turn you off of an instrument-but I'm going to work through it.
So...if anyone has any inspiration for me on that front, please share, because I haven't really come up with a plan yet.
(And sending me Youtube videos of 7 year olds playing all the pieces I'm playing will NOT help. In case that's confusing to any of you.)

Future Teacher of America (and hopefully some otha' places...)
And thirdly...tertiarily, (go with it,)
I'm going to set one poem to music every month.
I'm terrified of composing and always have been.
(Lack of exposure in my impressionable years-let this be a lesson to all future teachers of elementary students.)
So, I'm setting up a low-stakes, no pressure environment to compose one piece a month using a poem.
And I don't care how god-awful it sounds.
(That is a lie, welcome to my life of extreme self-editing.)

I blog about this because each of these resolutions has come to me either from learning a lesson about myself from myself, or watching others go through similar experiences, or just understanding that there are certain things I must do to remain sane.
And as my mother and I have come to agree on more and more as of late, we really appreciate people who are sane. And we're not necessarily talking chemical-imbalance, so please no one take offense.

ON THAT ALARMINGLY OFF TOPIC NOTE:
LET'S GO 2012, YA YA!