With 12 hours of straight shot driving (thanks Howie) along various turnpikes on the way home from the Windy City, there was plenty of time for conversation. One of the more fascinating of those surrounded around the four words mentioned above (in the title of this post). The are, as we agreed, some of the most trendy, over and ill-used words over the past decade.
Awkward, perhaps, being the chief offender, with obsessed making a strong late push for the crown.
Awkward (for years) served as the word of choice for adolescents trying to describe, well- any situation (usually and hatefully involving adults). "OMG, my mom totally was listening to Maroon 5 in the this morning while driving me to school... awkward." Wrong. Embarrassing? Maybe at best. Acceptable? Sure. Awkward it ain't. What is more frustrating, perhaps, is that it is being used as a commentary or a qualifier. Further proof that limitless and excessive technology and communication is dumbing down American youth.
Obsessed seems to be the new "flavor of the week." "Do you watch Glee?" one might ask, only to be responded to with, "Oh God, I'm like literally so obsessed." "Oh, what is your favorite song on it?" "Well, I've only seen like 5 episodes but it totally love it. And Lea Michelle, ahhhh... obsessed!"
Dumb.
It may have been my favorite of the conversations (on the way home- ask about the Oracle later). For me, it is the equivalent of the over use of the superlative. When we use these things incessantly without end, we weaken them and remove our ability to use them when appropriate. We are then forced to keep topping ourselves; often leading to the need to make up new words.
Please, the English language is to good to take it for granted. We are eliminating a plethora of perfectly good words for the sake of overusing the superlatives. Our vocabularies seem to be disappearing at a rate comparable to the middle-class.
Much thanks to Tony Braithwaite for introducing, fueling and sustaining this glorious conversation.
For the sake of my teenage readers (of which, I assume, I have none)...
The West Side Story Revival Album arrived in the mail today and I'm "literally obsessed."
Monday, August 16, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Packing... and the anxieties that come with
Fear ye not. This will not be a post about packing (as wildly entertaining as that would be- much akin to talking about the weather or traffic). Rather, it is serving as a convenient distraction and means to procrastination- thus avoiding (or adding to?!) my inevitable anxieties that come with the tedious, grueling and laborious task that is... packing!
Before I begin, I quick (though seemingly unearned) shout-out to one Will Bankhead, if for no other reason than his being my namesake. Will, apparently, is also my best friend, mentor, protege (not sure how both are possible), doppelganger and better half (all title which Will (the lesser) has ascribed to himself under no consult with or agreement from me). Nonetheless, mad props to Will Bankhead for... well... existing, I guess.
Right. Anyway... back to procrastination.
I spent this past weekend in NYC, gloriously hoping from show to show and sitting at table to break bread with some of the dearest friends one could know. The season that was this weekend included West Side Story (reference in previous post), La Cage Aux Folles and In The Heights. WSS was the favorite, with La Cage being a glorious and unabashedly enjoyable (but distant) second. In The Heights takes the bronze (not a bad result when looking at the competition). None of this matters, though. What matters more is experience as a whole, the 36 (or so) hours spent in the most exciting city in the world with the smartest, wittiest and most "awake" people I know (more on the "awakedness" later).
It is only in the reflection, the post-experience that the fruits of the weekend come into their fullest light. An itinerary consisting of show, mass (yes, mass), basking, show, dinner (Joe Allen's), basking, libations, infomercial jokes, brunch, basking, show, dinner, basking- all passing at about 130 mile a minute, takes its most real form in the aftermath. Even know, the words escape, for I know only what I experienced, and that I experienced it. To try to define that experience, in a way, lessens it. To put words to something, to name something, indicates an ownership, a possession. What I experienced this weekend was not mine, that is to say, it was not solely "of me." It was a shared possesssion, to be sure, but even as a group (consisting of high school students (sat. afternoon/evening only) college students, two jesuits, a handful of philly actors, a movie star, a choreographer and a costume designer) we did not fully posses our experience. In fact, if anything, the experience possessed us. The magic possessed us. The comradeship possessed us. The spirituality (told ya so) possessed us. The LOVE possessed us.
Love was the through line of the weekend, as it should be all things. No show was attended by the same group of people (in fact, there were on two of us who saw all three shows), yet we were bound by love in each and every moment.
I think, too often, we as a people are afraid of love. Or, should I say, we are only comfortable with love when we can define it categorically. We do not fear love in an intimate relationship (well, not all of us anyway), we do not fear love within a family. We trust love, we embrace love, when we can put labels on love. It gives us control over love, it gives us ownership and possession. But to embrace love as a life force, to embrace love as a constant, to embrace love as an unknown, to embrace love as spirituality, to embrace love as God- that is when we give up. That is when we become scared. That is when we run away.
Well, this weekend, we embraced it. We allowed love to permeate our souls, our thoughts, our conversation, our silences, our experiences of theater (of which we all love), and our closeness with one another. We gave over to love, we surrendered to the life force that is love. In short, we showed up and allowed God to take care of the rest. As a result, we were awakened (told ya). If I were to try (ineffectively, I'm sure) to put words to the experience of this past weekend, I would simply say this, "I spent an incredible weekend in NYC with some of my closest friend, and we were, all of us, "awake."
I leave you with words from Anthony de Mello, SJ- an Indian Jesuit- that I came across yesterday while reflecting on the past weekend. I found them to be one of the best, clearest definition of spirituality I have come across, and you can see the influence (in retrospect) throughout this post. Enjoy!
Spirituality means waking up. Most people, even though they don’t know it, are asleep. They’re born asleep, they live asleep, they marry in their sleep, they breed children in their sleep, they die in their sleep without ever waking up. They never understand the loveliness and the beauty of this thing that we call human existence. You know ~ all mystics ~ Catholic, Christian, non-Christian, no matter what their theology, no matter what their religion ~ are unanimous on one thing: that all is well, all is well. Though everything is a mess, all is well. Strange paradox, to be sure. But, tragically, most people never get to see that all is well because they are asleep. They are having a nightmare.
Last year on Spanish television I heard a story about this gentleman who knocks on his son’s door. "Jaime," he says, "wake up!" Jaime answers, "I don’t want to get up, Papa."
The father shouts, "Get up, you have to go to school." Jaime says, "I don’t want to go to school." "Why not?" asks the father. "Three reasons," says Jaime. First, because it’s so dull; second, the kids tease me; and third, I hate school. And the father says, "Well, I am going to give you three reasons why you must go to school. First, because it is your duty; second, because you are forty-five years old, and third, because you are the headmaster." Wake up! Wake up! You’ve grown up. You’re too big to be asleep. Wake up! Stop playing with your toys.
Most people tell you they want to get out of kindergarten, but don’t believe them. Don’t believe them! All they want you to do is to mend their broken toys. "Give me back my wife. Give me back my job. Give me back my money. Give me back my reputation, my success." This is what they want; they want their toys replaced. That’s all. Even the best psychologist will tell you that, that people don’t really want to be cured. What they want is relief; a cure is painful.
Waking up is unpleasant, you know. You are nice and comfortable in bed. It is irritating to be woken up. That’s the reason the wise guru will not attempt to wake people up. I hope I’m going to be wise here and make no attempt whatsoever to wake you up if you are asleep. It is really none of my business, even though I say to you at times, "Wake up!" My business is to do my thing, to dance my dance. If you profit from it fine; if you don’t, too bad! As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.
Before I begin, I quick (though seemingly unearned) shout-out to one Will Bankhead, if for no other reason than his being my namesake. Will, apparently, is also my best friend, mentor, protege (not sure how both are possible), doppelganger and better half (all title which Will (the lesser) has ascribed to himself under no consult with or agreement from me). Nonetheless, mad props to Will Bankhead for... well... existing, I guess.
Right. Anyway... back to procrastination.
I spent this past weekend in NYC, gloriously hoping from show to show and sitting at table to break bread with some of the dearest friends one could know. The season that was this weekend included West Side Story (reference in previous post), La Cage Aux Folles and In The Heights. WSS was the favorite, with La Cage being a glorious and unabashedly enjoyable (but distant) second. In The Heights takes the bronze (not a bad result when looking at the competition). None of this matters, though. What matters more is experience as a whole, the 36 (or so) hours spent in the most exciting city in the world with the smartest, wittiest and most "awake" people I know (more on the "awakedness" later).
It is only in the reflection, the post-experience that the fruits of the weekend come into their fullest light. An itinerary consisting of show, mass (yes, mass), basking, show, dinner (Joe Allen's), basking, libations, infomercial jokes, brunch, basking, show, dinner, basking- all passing at about 130 mile a minute, takes its most real form in the aftermath. Even know, the words escape, for I know only what I experienced, and that I experienced it. To try to define that experience, in a way, lessens it. To put words to something, to name something, indicates an ownership, a possession. What I experienced this weekend was not mine, that is to say, it was not solely "of me." It was a shared possesssion, to be sure, but even as a group (consisting of high school students (sat. afternoon/evening only) college students, two jesuits, a handful of philly actors, a movie star, a choreographer and a costume designer) we did not fully posses our experience. In fact, if anything, the experience possessed us. The magic possessed us. The comradeship possessed us. The spirituality (told ya so) possessed us. The LOVE possessed us.
Love was the through line of the weekend, as it should be all things. No show was attended by the same group of people (in fact, there were on two of us who saw all three shows), yet we were bound by love in each and every moment.
I think, too often, we as a people are afraid of love. Or, should I say, we are only comfortable with love when we can define it categorically. We do not fear love in an intimate relationship (well, not all of us anyway), we do not fear love within a family. We trust love, we embrace love, when we can put labels on love. It gives us control over love, it gives us ownership and possession. But to embrace love as a life force, to embrace love as a constant, to embrace love as an unknown, to embrace love as spirituality, to embrace love as God- that is when we give up. That is when we become scared. That is when we run away.
Well, this weekend, we embraced it. We allowed love to permeate our souls, our thoughts, our conversation, our silences, our experiences of theater (of which we all love), and our closeness with one another. We gave over to love, we surrendered to the life force that is love. In short, we showed up and allowed God to take care of the rest. As a result, we were awakened (told ya). If I were to try (ineffectively, I'm sure) to put words to the experience of this past weekend, I would simply say this, "I spent an incredible weekend in NYC with some of my closest friend, and we were, all of us, "awake."
I leave you with words from Anthony de Mello, SJ- an Indian Jesuit- that I came across yesterday while reflecting on the past weekend. I found them to be one of the best, clearest definition of spirituality I have come across, and you can see the influence (in retrospect) throughout this post. Enjoy!
Spirituality means waking up. Most people, even though they don’t know it, are asleep. They’re born asleep, they live asleep, they marry in their sleep, they breed children in their sleep, they die in their sleep without ever waking up. They never understand the loveliness and the beauty of this thing that we call human existence. You know ~ all mystics ~ Catholic, Christian, non-Christian, no matter what their theology, no matter what their religion ~ are unanimous on one thing: that all is well, all is well. Though everything is a mess, all is well. Strange paradox, to be sure. But, tragically, most people never get to see that all is well because they are asleep. They are having a nightmare.
Last year on Spanish television I heard a story about this gentleman who knocks on his son’s door. "Jaime," he says, "wake up!" Jaime answers, "I don’t want to get up, Papa."
The father shouts, "Get up, you have to go to school." Jaime says, "I don’t want to go to school." "Why not?" asks the father. "Three reasons," says Jaime. First, because it’s so dull; second, the kids tease me; and third, I hate school. And the father says, "Well, I am going to give you three reasons why you must go to school. First, because it is your duty; second, because you are forty-five years old, and third, because you are the headmaster." Wake up! Wake up! You’ve grown up. You’re too big to be asleep. Wake up! Stop playing with your toys.
Most people tell you they want to get out of kindergarten, but don’t believe them. Don’t believe them! All they want you to do is to mend their broken toys. "Give me back my wife. Give me back my job. Give me back my money. Give me back my reputation, my success." This is what they want; they want their toys replaced. That’s all. Even the best psychologist will tell you that, that people don’t really want to be cured. What they want is relief; a cure is painful.
Waking up is unpleasant, you know. You are nice and comfortable in bed. It is irritating to be woken up. That’s the reason the wise guru will not attempt to wake people up. I hope I’m going to be wise here and make no attempt whatsoever to wake you up if you are asleep. It is really none of my business, even though I say to you at times, "Wake up!" My business is to do my thing, to dance my dance. If you profit from it fine; if you don’t, too bad! As the Arabs say, "The nature of rain is the same, but it makes thorns grow in the marshes and flowers in the gardens.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Giving this the Ole' Once Over
Since the beginning of the blogging "boom," I have been entirely against it. Perhaps at first it came from ignorance, not fully understanding what it was all about. Later, though, I felt justified in my "anti-blog" stance, fueled mostly by the unfortunate power it gave to anyone, anywhere, anyhow. It blurred the lines of journalism and writing. It gave importance to any schmuck with a computer. All of a sudden we were trusting blogs as credible sources. For the longest time, it infuriated me.
Obviously, I have given in. I concede this battle not because my views have changed, in fact, they have been strengthened, if anything. There mere fact that I am able to post my words and thought gives credo to my whole argument. I concede, though, because there is no going back. Regardless of the fact that we, as a country, as a people, as a species, never gave one moment of reflection to the possible harm this all could do, it is now a part of us and I can only swim backward against the current for so long. As such, today I have made the decision to not impede progress, but rather join it. If every nimrod from Boston to Juneau is going to have a voice that means something, a voice that is somehow important, a voice that is, dare I say it, published, then by all means I am going to start using my own voice as well.
I don't know what to expect from this blog. I don't know where it will end up going. I don't know which direction it will steer. I don't know what topics for take the forefront. I guess, like everyone else on planet earth, it will become a public journal of sorts.
If I know myself at all, I fully expect theater and spirituality to come to the surface more often than not. I say spirituality because I want to avoid using the word religion; not because I don't believe in religion (I very much do) or that I think the two are mutually exclusive (they are not), but because I fear that even the mention of the word religion in my first post will quickly lead me to more enemies as opposed to followers or even allies. Hopefully in due time religion will get its fair shake.
I do, also, promise that the tone of this blog will be less bitter, salty and condemning than this initial post may lead one to believe. I merely offer my own reasons for joining the ever-extending blogosphere. I promise to offer a more cheery and positive disposition going forward; that is if the subject matter calls for it.
So there it is: my first blog post. More of an explaination than anything else, I suppose, but a post nonetheless.
As I wrap this up, and so that I can at least give you a tease of art and culture (and I would argue spirituality), I welcome you to indulge in this clip from the recording session of the West Side Story Revival Soundtrack. The show itself (I saw it this past weekend) was one of the greatest, most transformative, and magical experiences I have ever had (again- spirituality). The clip, I think, captures some of that. Enjoy
Obviously, I have given in. I concede this battle not because my views have changed, in fact, they have been strengthened, if anything. There mere fact that I am able to post my words and thought gives credo to my whole argument. I concede, though, because there is no going back. Regardless of the fact that we, as a country, as a people, as a species, never gave one moment of reflection to the possible harm this all could do, it is now a part of us and I can only swim backward against the current for so long. As such, today I have made the decision to not impede progress, but rather join it. If every nimrod from Boston to Juneau is going to have a voice that means something, a voice that is somehow important, a voice that is, dare I say it, published, then by all means I am going to start using my own voice as well.
I don't know what to expect from this blog. I don't know where it will end up going. I don't know which direction it will steer. I don't know what topics for take the forefront. I guess, like everyone else on planet earth, it will become a public journal of sorts.
If I know myself at all, I fully expect theater and spirituality to come to the surface more often than not. I say spirituality because I want to avoid using the word religion; not because I don't believe in religion (I very much do) or that I think the two are mutually exclusive (they are not), but because I fear that even the mention of the word religion in my first post will quickly lead me to more enemies as opposed to followers or even allies. Hopefully in due time religion will get its fair shake.
I do, also, promise that the tone of this blog will be less bitter, salty and condemning than this initial post may lead one to believe. I merely offer my own reasons for joining the ever-extending blogosphere. I promise to offer a more cheery and positive disposition going forward; that is if the subject matter calls for it.
So there it is: my first blog post. More of an explaination than anything else, I suppose, but a post nonetheless.
As I wrap this up, and so that I can at least give you a tease of art and culture (and I would argue spirituality), I welcome you to indulge in this clip from the recording session of the West Side Story Revival Soundtrack. The show itself (I saw it this past weekend) was one of the greatest, most transformative, and magical experiences I have ever had (again- spirituality). The clip, I think, captures some of that. Enjoy
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