I should be reviewing Wall Street Journal Articles for class...but I'm not. Instead I'm frustrated and a little angry at the Grove City Theater Dept. I wrote a play last year and I've submitted it to be used in the One Act festival twice, neither time was it accepted. I also adapted Mark Twain's "The Diary of Adam and Eve" for the stage this summer and submitted it, it was also not selected. Now, certainly I have a bit of wounded pride at this, but that's not what this article is about. (Every writer should face failure and learn to deal with it) The thing is, the coordinators for the festival actually enjoyed my plays, though they found the one I had written too dark for a festival they wanted to be full of comedies (it has it's moments but it's no tragedy...) and they questioned Twain's theology and it's use on a Christian campus. Ok, I disagree, but ok. Until that is, they tell me they still want me to direct and I have my choice between two plays: one boring and not really suited to what I want to do senior year, and the second, which I chose, a slightly riske play about a husband and wife and the husband's ex-girlfriends visit (which consists of a big ol kiss and a sketchy backrub) <--The theology of this is not questionable? Sure Mark Twain has some unorthodox views of the first man and wife, he humanizes them *GASP* oh no! he humanized humans? but but but, that just makes my world crumble!!!
It seems that we are only concerned with differing theology when it is placed before us in a way that we cannot avoid questioning. A play that has no mention of God, but portrays action that flies in the face of his commandments, that's ok...but heaven forbid Adam say that wherever he went with Eve a part of Eden was with him...blasphemer. Likewise, we want a play that makes us laugh, not one that makes us think, or desire a relationship with Christ, we just want to laugh.
Well it's a week from the show going up, I'm frustrated, my coordinator just told me he thinks the way I'm portraying the backrub scene is sketchy and awkward....it's the way it's written! ("I just always pictured her sitting up" ...it says flops over on the bed!!)
Sure I could censor the script, I could cut out the scene (and the play would make a lot less sense) I could continue to edit words like promiscuous (already did that...apparently it's an inappropriate descriptor...) and other moments that make the audience understand why Wanda is such an odd character and an irritation to Marsha (Jim's wife) but then what would the play be? anything? I've already made edits I'm sure the writer wouldn't approve of, but that I have to make bc it's GCC. So Instead of asking me to edit the last line of the play I adapted, to make it a little less like Eve was replacing God (which I don't think was Twain's point) I'm changing a whole lot more of the play, and I'm still uncomfortable and stressed.
I don't want to cater to the crowd but I don't have a choice. Or do I? I'm only here one semester. I'm seriously considering an underground production of either the bus stop or the diary of adam and eve...
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
why i run.
I walked into the house with my heart beating everywhere but inside my chest where it belonged. Head, arms, knees, feet, every inch of my body was pulsating. I was drenched in sweat and my face was blood red. The pain in my knees was closing in on unbearable. I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more. Walked into the living room and collapsed on the floor “stretching.” I had just run 8 miles. The farthest I’ve ever run. You distance runners out there are probably thinking “psh that’s nothing, I can run 8 miles in my sleep.” But I’m a sprinter, I run hurdles, and in practice I never run more than 4 miles, tops. And this year I sprained my ankle going over a hurdle so I wasn’t even running that. So to go from 2-3 miles “a day” to 8, well that’s huge for me.
That’s not what this is about. This is about the sentence in that paragraph you probably read over without thinking, taking it for granted. Guess which one it is? “I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more.” Here in America so many of us are blessed with clean drinking water right from the tap. Even more of us here live on or around the cleanest lake in New York State (possible all the U.S.) and can walk right down, dive right in and drink up as much as they want. This is a beautiful and blessed thing.
For people living in poverty in Africa, this is nearly impossible. They have to walk miles a day just to reach a water source that is not even clean and appropriate for drinking. They can’t just reach for the tap and fill a glass of clean, pure water that is safe from disease. Kids miss school because they have to make these water walks, and take care of their families.
That’s why I went for an 8 mile run. I’m running in the Skinnyman Triathlon in Skaneateles, NY with Team Active:Water. Active:Water is an organization that uses donations made to support their athletes to provide clean drinking water to impoverished countries. Right now they work with Blood:Water Mission and Seeds of Hope International, but as they expand, they will be working with more and more organizations worldwide to provide water to more countries in need. Athletes sign up to support the organization through the different events they participate in and then get donations to support them in the race, and all the funds go directly to Active:Water where they are used to give individuals clean water, families water filters, and even build clean water wells, providing clean water for entire villages.
Sure there is a story in my triathlon training without this, it’s hard and it hurts and it makes me feel great about what I can achieve, but it’s not the story I want to tell. I want to tell a story about other people, and how I was able to affect them. How other people were able to help me affect them. I want to tell how I was able to use my gifts to bring something wonderful to people. What story do you want to tell?
copyright M. Markley June 2010
That’s not what this is about. This is about the sentence in that paragraph you probably read over without thinking, taking it for granted. Guess which one it is? “I went straight to the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it from the tap. I gulped it down and filled up two more.” Here in America so many of us are blessed with clean drinking water right from the tap. Even more of us here live on or around the cleanest lake in New York State (possible all the U.S.) and can walk right down, dive right in and drink up as much as they want. This is a beautiful and blessed thing.
For people living in poverty in Africa, this is nearly impossible. They have to walk miles a day just to reach a water source that is not even clean and appropriate for drinking. They can’t just reach for the tap and fill a glass of clean, pure water that is safe from disease. Kids miss school because they have to make these water walks, and take care of their families.
That’s why I went for an 8 mile run. I’m running in the Skinnyman Triathlon in Skaneateles, NY with Team Active:Water. Active:Water is an organization that uses donations made to support their athletes to provide clean drinking water to impoverished countries. Right now they work with Blood:Water Mission and Seeds of Hope International, but as they expand, they will be working with more and more organizations worldwide to provide water to more countries in need. Athletes sign up to support the organization through the different events they participate in and then get donations to support them in the race, and all the funds go directly to Active:Water where they are used to give individuals clean water, families water filters, and even build clean water wells, providing clean water for entire villages.
Sure there is a story in my triathlon training without this, it’s hard and it hurts and it makes me feel great about what I can achieve, but it’s not the story I want to tell. I want to tell a story about other people, and how I was able to affect them. How other people were able to help me affect them. I want to tell how I was able to use my gifts to bring something wonderful to people. What story do you want to tell?
copyright M. Markley June 2010
Urban Cowboy
Urban Cowboy
On the streets he roams, looking for a home
Wide brimmed hat worn and flapping
And a ring for each finger to show where he’s been
He stares at me through the window
Do I remind him of someone from long ago
Does he remember that week a year ago
Smoking a cig on the park bench relaxed before the storm,
I catch him staring at me once more
I nod and he nods in return
Chivalry or memory
His scraggly gray hair lies just at his shoulders
Peering out under the hat
Short gray beard well kept for where he’s been
His eyes pierce mine and I have to look away
I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he feels
But I feel like if I kept my eyes locked I’d get lost in that dark soul
He played his music once, and has a cd
We got to listen to it at breakfast that day
Who are you and where have you been
Urban cowboy who calls the streets home
Who walks the new frontier
What do you think of us both being here
What brings us, old and young to watch for the break in the clouds, for the sun
If I went out, would you speak to me,
your eyes hardly leave mine
Urban Cowboy what’s on your mind
How did we get to this strange place and time?
copyright M. Markley 2010
On the streets he roams, looking for a home
Wide brimmed hat worn and flapping
And a ring for each finger to show where he’s been
He stares at me through the window
Do I remind him of someone from long ago
Does he remember that week a year ago
Smoking a cig on the park bench relaxed before the storm,
I catch him staring at me once more
I nod and he nods in return
Chivalry or memory
His scraggly gray hair lies just at his shoulders
Peering out under the hat
Short gray beard well kept for where he’s been
His eyes pierce mine and I have to look away
I don’t know what he’s thinking or what he feels
But I feel like if I kept my eyes locked I’d get lost in that dark soul
He played his music once, and has a cd
We got to listen to it at breakfast that day
Who are you and where have you been
Urban cowboy who calls the streets home
Who walks the new frontier
What do you think of us both being here
What brings us, old and young to watch for the break in the clouds, for the sun
If I went out, would you speak to me,
your eyes hardly leave mine
Urban Cowboy what’s on your mind
How did we get to this strange place and time?
copyright M. Markley 2010
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