Tuesday, December 15, 2009

A Sheep Dog and No Sheep

Let me begin with a confession. Before I disappoint, it's not a dark or intriguing one that necessitates a kneeling bench or dim lighting--although I can be swayed to invent such a confession if it suits your reading pleasure. Perhaps that's sufficient bait to get you to the end of this post.

My confession, though, is simply that I was wrong about blogs. They do serve many purposes. (Travis Bedard, take joy in this victory and relish the fact that I'm admitting I'm wrong.) In fact, admission is the point of this blog. When did I need a map (where we all took wrong turns), and how have I learned to correct the wheel and choose better roads? Here's what I needed to know in the last decade. In serial form. Unless I decide to write about something else.

I've been trained to write. Somehow, Northwestern decided I'd be a poet (I take only partial blame). They trained with great fervor. It didn't quite take, as I'm more of an essayist with bad form--but the impulse to write is there. Courtesy of Northwestern and life, I've also been trained to act. And to throw pots (on a wheel, not on stage). And to paint and play the piano...perhaps simultaneously on said stage if a script calls for it. I've pursued all interests I have, resulting in a somewhat confusing resume that makes me almost right for lots of jobs that I have no interest in. Bravo, liberal arts!

I've had stints on magazines, roles on stage, and illustrations in production meetings, but these are fleeting and need constant pursuit. When I'm between projects, I truly am a sheep dog in a small backyard. Without the tasks I've been trained to do, I'll dig up the flowers.

Enter the blog.

I'm not sure if a blog will be a diversion or a re-direction, but it certainly is a forum to work on my craft and force me to look up the spellings of words. So, welcome to my page that keeps me occupied and philosophizing. Not sure why you're here instead of trying to arrange the purchase of a deeply discounted, obsolete item on Craigslist, but I hope we all learn something along the way. At a greatly reduced price.

And, as promised, here's my false confession fit for a Catholic (says the non-practicing Protestant Irish-Jewess): I never said the "Hail Marys" the priest advised. I was too busy digging up the flowers after my last show; and, honestly, does repeating a phrase make all of that mayhem ok?

2 comments:

  1. Hi Rach, I have always thought you had a flair for words, and have enjoyed the notes you posted and will take what you have written here as my own inspiration to write, I have only ever posted on myspace (perish the notion) but I think I write pretty well, not classically trained like "some people" but decent.. (clearly not good enough writing for the political satire they were looking for at "esthers follies" I auditioned and they liked everything but my writing sample, I was disheartened but based on the post you have put forth, am invigorated, who says it has to be poetry.. ?

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  2. It certainly does not have to be poetry, and I really do think you should exercise those muscles. You have a wonderful vocabulary and always have something insightful to say. Write, my love, write!

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