I realized late last night that I have two chances to get my performance as Eunice Hubbell in “A Streetcar Named Desire” just right. I think there have been nights when I have done respectably and one performance when I wanted to apologize to the audience.

I am shaking my head at me.

I saw my friend, Julia, at the matinee yesterday. Bless her heart… fellow actor she always comments specifically on the performance. I asked her, when Sarah walked out… “Don’t you love when Sarah and I laugh at the beginning?!” and she said, “It sounds so real!”

Sarah and I confessed that’s because it usually is real. The last couple times, I think Sheila wished we would just shut up and get on with it.

Two more chances to speak the words so masterfully crafted by Tennessee Williams.

I was in tears last night, thinking about my own tendency to completely soak in each show I am a part of simply because I never know for sure whether I will hit the boards again.

I never assume I will ever be cast again because I might not.

Mom came on Saturday night, along with my cousin Darcy and Emma. I was talking to Rikk backstage and I said, “You know, since what has happened this year, I really need to make each performance my best for her, when she makes a trip from Arizona to see me perform… I mean, each time might be her last time to see me on stage.”

The reality is that is how it ALWAYS is. I never would have thought, last year, that John would be dead now either, but he is… proving you just never know.

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There are times when I arrive at the theatre and my
heart just isn’t there.

Yesterday was one of those days. I didn’t feel
like being there. I wanted to be sitting by the
Kern River, where I had been earlier in the
morning, with my children. I wanted to be
watching the water rush past me, close enough
to dip my toes into as it flowed past.

I wanted to listen to the birds sing and laugh
as the salamanders scamper across boulders. I
wanted to recline and look up at the hillsides,
colored with purple wild flowers. I wanted to be,
just be, with my beloved children. I wanted to
feel fresh air against my cheeks and sunlight
splash across my shoulders.

I didn’t want to put on costumes and become
someone other than me.

I heard a voice ring in my ear. Bob Kempf, my
Director, “For the love of Tennessee Williams….”
It was something he had said to us during
rehearsal, a couple weeks previously, as motivation
for doing our best - for honoring Mr. Williams
and the words he wrote.

 I stood in the wings, waiting to go on stage. 
I heard it again.  “For the love of
Tennessee Williams….” 

Something in me shifted.

I stopped concerning myself with my selfish desires
and instead, focused on the love of a brilliant playwright,
someone who had written a supporting character so
vivid any actor could find juice in bringing her to life.

I did some quick individual warm ups and walked
onto the darkened, sacred stage.

Immediately I was sucked into that sacred theatre vortex.

I stayed there until curtain call, when I found myself
in the lobby for “meet and greet.”

I smiled into the eyes of folks who came by to meet me. 
I always figure I am just a random hand when people are
much more interested in shaking the hands of
Rikk, Sheila and Amy.

I found myself facing a woman who was probably somewhere in
her late 70’s.

She took my took my hand and said, "At the end of the show,
when you started crying...I looked at you and started
crying...too..."

I felt my chin start to quiver and my eyes filled up and I
said, "And now, you are making me cry all over again..."

Her chin quivered and her eyes filled up and she said...
"Me too..." and we laughed and hugged each other.

Yes. Once again, I heard the words, “For the love of
Tennessee Williams.”  For the love of the audiences.
For the love of the art itself.

For love.

A Streetcar Named Desire, written by Tennessee Williams and Directed by Bob Kempf  plays for two more weekends at the Spotlight Theatre, Located in the Historic Hayden Atrium Building on 19^th Street, just east of H,  in downtown Bakersfield. 

Call 634-0692 to make reservations.

The other day My Muse told me he noticed I have sent him almost 1,000 emails in the course of our friendship. Now I find myself censoring myself before sending him emails. I told him I was going to start keeping a notebook, instead.

Katherine, Sam and I are about to go out to the River to hold our own mini-impromptu Church Service. I am very excited. I am still feeling... not very welcomed at the church I "belong" to... ever since that anonymous person said such horrid things to me/about me recently.

Last night in between "Bent" and "Corpus Christi" I went to Barnes and Noble.

I practically fell into ecstacy reading Rilke's "Book of Hours" and Adrienne Rich's "Poetry and Commitment."

And then I found a copy of Melodie Beattie's recent book. "The Grief Club"... and being a card carrying member, I picked it up, held it in my hands... and started to read.

This quote really spoke to me so I thought I would share it....

"We need a national campaign to redefine what it means to be blessed. The problem with not feeling blessed is when we don't feel blessed, we don't know how blessed we are."

I miss my brother.  I am blessed.

I attempted to write a business letter, but my heart wouldn't let me write a word until I got this message into form. First it made me laugh and then, it made me cry... in gratitude.

In the first moment

We created together

I knew you were

An answered prayer

What I was not prepared for….

In any way

Was the depth,

The richness of my response

Dickensian – blustery – blissful

I have come to Know

Each moment we create

Together is another

Answered Prayer

I had a whole bunch of weird dreams last night/this morning, including one where two of my friends were blushing brides. One of them is already married, so it was sort of odd. They wore matching dresses, one with a fuschia boa and one with a bright royal blue boa. They also wore matching necklaces like Madonna would have worn in the 80's...enormous, clunky Celtic type crosses. The bride with the Pink Boa's cross broke before the "Big Photo time" but the bride in the Blue boa made her fix it before they took photos.

I remember one of the grooms, but for some reason I can't remember the other groom. Weird.

Then, after the big photo was taken - the groom I remember told me there were 8 people who wanted to kill me. Apparently it was a conspiracy. And the oddest thing of all is that the death conspiracy headquarters was right here, at Bakotopia.

This dream made me feel so squeamish that when I woke up, I did a search to see if it was true. Maybe it is all the Hectic Films Zombie stuff that made my subconscious mind create this...  I don't know... but it was odd to say the least. I even googled it, after discovering there was no JJS Death Conspiracy Headquarters on Bakotopia... I thought, "Maybe they got the headquarters wrong..."

Maybe it was that Chinese food I ate last night, and the fact that my friend ordered a #8 off the menu and told me (when I read my fortune) "I never noticed you had a sense of humor". OUCH! Just slay me with your words, just slay me!

I did discover through my Bakotopia Search that a fellow Bakotopian offered me belly dancing lessons, which I am now going to hopefully experience... so, all's well that ends well... (but if you hear anything about that conspiracy thing, please fill me in so I can prepare my children for my imminent departure...)

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I was nervous – it was opening night and yes, I have experienced opening nights before, but this was Tennessee Williams… this was the Sacred Place called Spotlight Theatre. I really wanted to do well.

I could say, “Well, I am not Blanche or Stella, so what am I so worked up about?”

I never say that. I give my all no matter what size my role is – I prefer meaty character roles, interesting and quirky folks I can fill with breath and life.

I admire playwrights who serve up great characters to bring to life. I am reminded of Tennessee Williams’ contemporary, William Inge, and the divine moments he gave me as I played “Rosemary” in “Picnic.” 

I was surprised by my nervousness – and the jitters that manifest stage surprises, small errors that never happened in rehearsal – but with one performance under my belt, I feel that much stronger.

Did I mention we got a standing ovation?

Did I mention how much I love my cast mates and the crew?

I am so grateful I have been a part of this.

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Somehow the time kept ticking by and the pages on the calendar kept turning and here we are, the morning of opening night.

I wonder for a moment how it happened to pass so quickly.

It felt like just yesterday I auditioned. I remember now it was just after noon on a Saturday that I was heading to Southern California to have dinner with my friend Melanie and her family, and I was also to visit John, who was at a hospital in Orange at that point.

I feel like a completely different person than I was on that day.

I miss that person sometimes.

I started rehearsing on a Monday, I remember. It was a Monday after the Saturday that was John’s Celebration of Life.  I remember being in awe of the timing. I couldn’t have planned it better.  I didn’t know back then that rehearsal would become like my nightly meditation.

I was able to shut myself into the sacred chamber of the theatre, away from all the people who clamored for my attention, all the projects that whined at me from shelves and inboxes and file folders. 

I was even able, for a few hours at a time, forget the sorrow that perpetually flooded my heart. I was able to focus on the work at hand – and do my best even when it felt like that wasn’t even close to adequate.

This time around it seemed more important than ever that I do well.

When “Streetcar” closes, school will be out. Sam will be a first grader, Emma will be in fifth grade, Katherine will somehow be a sophomore in high school.  I wonder how I will have changed by then? I wonder if the sorrow that has filled me and overflowed through my veins so much this season will still be a palpable presence or if it will have turned and moved along, onto the next thing?

I have also fallen officially in love with Tennessee Williams. How many playwrights do you still quote ten years later, anyway? My children and I still say, in Southern accent of course, “Skipper is dead, but Maggie the Cat is alive, I’m alive…”   Katherine played Trixie almost ten years ago in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" – and Emma was backstage at BCT when she was just a day old, resting in my arms in the green room when Katherine (she was sill “Kathie” then) rehearsed.

Never did I imagine that someday I would take to the stage myself. I was a stage MOM.

A couple nights ago I mentioned how much I love playwrights who create such compelling roles for women. Sheila said, “Yes, all the characters are incredible… I mean, even Eunice is juicy.”

I agreed and then laughed inside. Eunice is so much fun to play. There is silliness and surliness, mother-nurturance and grief, resignation… just like “real life.”  Amy and I were talking about several of our exchanges and I said, “I wonder how many times Eunice has said to herself, “No matter what happens, you have to keep going. Life goes on.”  I wonder, too, how many times Eunice heard that from her mother. I hear it echo in my mind before I say it, almost like a flashback.  “And ya know what? Its true,” I commented aloud to Amy, my words almost a mystery.

Even amidst sorrow that sometimes feels unbearable – like the sorrow I have been working through lately – life goes on.  One breath at a time. One line at a time. One performance at a time.

A Streetcar Named Desire, written by Tennessee Williams and Directed by Bob Kempf  opens on May 11 at 8 PM at the Spotlight Theatre, Located in the Historic Hayden Atrium Building on 19^th Street, just east of H,  in downtown Bakersfield.  

Call 634-0692 to make reservations.

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Bakersfield Community Theatre, at 2400 South Chester Avenue, presents  Richard O’Brien’s 4-time Tony Award nominated revival musical THE ROCKY HORROW SHOW, running May 4^th to May 19^th, Friday nights at Midnight and Saturday nights at 8:00pm and Midnight.

Directed by David Lollar and Sheila McClure.  Come see Bakersfield’s hottest performers in Brad  (Andrew Hupp) and Janet’s (Therese Muller) sexy romp with Frank’N’Furter (Sam Hall),  Riff Raff, (Brian Brown),  Columbia, (caroline Clark), Magenta, (Lindsay Smith) and of course, Rocky himself (Billie Joe Fox). Come, and let’s do the Time Warp again!

For additional information, call Bakersfield Community Theatre at 661-831-8114. THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW includes adult themes, profanity, and partial nudity, so leave the kids at home, because this ain’t your mama’s ROCKY!  Call BCT right now at 661-831-8114 to reserve your seats to the hottest Rocky Horror to hit Bakersfield, ever.

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I sat on my perch, the “front room” of “my apartment” on the set of “A Streetcar Named Desire” which opens this weekend at Spotlight Theatre.

Tech week is always full of surprises. One I have especially enjoyed this time around is the space itself, my particular playing space.  As Eunice Hubbell, the upstairs neighbor to Stella and Stanley, I do a lot of my work from the doorway to my apartment or on the staircase.

I didn’t know how grand my staircase was going to be, I was expecting ordinary stairs – not curved, beautiful, with a platform on the middle stairs.

I have been marching up those stairs since they were built. I get to experience sobbing up the stairs, stomping down the stairs, racing down the stairs laughing and last night using more of the stairs while I confront Stanley. I am not sure if Bob Kempf, our Director, will like that or not – I will have to wait until rehearsal today when he gives me notes.

I made the change based on his suggestion, but you never know what the outcome will be – what I do know is I fully trust Bob’s judgment and direction. If what I did wasn’t helpful in telling the story, I know I can morph my performance and movement accordingly.  Rikk and I talked about it before rehearsal – who wanted to move where, what we wanted to experiment with, and we talked about it afterwards.

Now comes the more important part – Bob’s assessment.

From my perch, I feel so Eunice like, looking out over the neighborhood I love, cherish and try to nurture… though it doesn’t always work like I think best. I am wondering if tonight I will go to rehearsal with my perch all enclosed, so I won’t be able to see anymore.

There was one especially intriguing moment that I watched from my doorway last night.

A little set up:

While we were gathering before rehearsal, Amy Hall, who plays Stella, said to Rikk Cheshire, who plays Stanley, “Julie wants to know where our kiss has been….”

It’s true – with all the sexual energy brimming from Stanley, I couldn’t imagine the two of them without kissing.

I said, “Yeah, I watch from the wings every night, with my glasses on so that I can see! I mean, I am blind on stage without them but I really want to see you guys kiss!”

They laughed about it, so I was delightfully surprised when I was caught unaware, and without my glasses on no less, as they experimented with their very first stage kiss. 

Eunice/Julie, the neighborhood busybody-Queen Bee-nurturing-caretaker/louder than all get out woman watched Stella and Stanley… kiss. I wanted to applaud, but somehow it didn’t seem to fit with the moment in the story.

Two days until we open. I am excited.

A Streetcar Named Desire, written by Tennessee Williams and Directed by Bob Kempf  opens on May 11 at 8 PM at the Spotlight Theatre, Located in the Historic Hayden Atrium Building on 19^th Street, just east of H,  in downtown Bakersfield. 

Call 634-0692 to make reservations.

One of the little known facts of theatre is that if you are going to be late for your call – the time you are supposed to be at the theatre – you need to call the Stage Manager and say simply, “I am going to be late!”

Yesterday I was running around all afternoon, here and there across town I went, taking care of tasks for the theatre and my family. Criss cross, criss cross, criss cross.

I backed out of my driveway at 5:50 for a 6:00 pm call time and I knew I needed to pick up a drink on the way… one thing I have noticed at rehearsal is I get so very thirsty – and in tech week, I am there in rehearsal from 6 pm until Midnight. If I want to stay well, I need to drink something.

I drove into McDonald’s on F Street to order one of their Mammoth sized iced teas which are currently being sold, with tax, for only seventy four cents.

I pulled up to the window and asked the young man there the usual question. “How are you?”

“I am hot” he responded and I immediately honored his truthful response.

I nodded. “I am hot, too… and grouchy… and sad…..” I paused for a moment and then felt a pulse of positive energy coming from the slightly wet coolness of my just shampooed hair against my neck, “but at least my hair is clean.”

The young man and I looked at each other and smiled.. which turned into giggles… which turned into full laughing-out-loud.

I drove towards Spotlight Theatre still smiling and as I arrived I saw several members of the cast and crew also arriving. I was backstage by 6:05, not so late at all.

AND I was in a much better mood, because… at least my hair was clean.

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I experienced an a-ha recently that almost knocked me off my feet. It came someplace amidst experiencing my brother’s death process, which was in-and-of-itself a life transforming experience.

I realized in a flash of Knowing that when My Muse returned to his home in San Luis Obispo with no scheduled date of return to Bakersfield and to me he was actually holding open the door for me to experience even more richness and fullness of life than I ever imagined possible had he stayed here, beside me.

Think about it a moment.

I laugh when I realize how well documented our relationship has been – from the very start, I can trace the growth of connection and then marvel at our individual processes since our connection began.

In September I saw the flickerings of an intense friendship.  In October, I knew the flowering of a transforming and transcending version of me due to our deep connection. In November, I felt the wobbling in my sea-legs, beginning to travel without this companion I had come to depend upon for inspiration, for food-for-awareness, for deep soul.  In December I experienced Dickensian moments with some of the best of times and some of the worst of times as he returned for a brief time of physical connection again, more growth amidst some deep pain.  The passion within that pain astonished me.

The still of the night between December 13 and December 14 marks the last day of any physical presence with My Muse.   I turned from him and walked into the darkness, clean and crisp. He stayed in Bakersfield longer than that, but I didn’t spend any additional time with him, a conscious choice on my part. I didn’t feel strong enough individually to lengthen my time saying goodbye yet again.

January included my birthday. February included more introductions to Remington Hot Springs for many friends. March included the decline of John’s health and many trips back-and-forth to Orange County, the high-light Muse Moments being an extended phone call while I sat on the beach in Dana Point.

April: John’s death and theatre-drama that ripped my heart into pieces and spit it out, stomped on it and took a heel to it and spun it, seemingly just for fun.  May: play openings, rehearsal processes ending and beginning again. May, in fact, is repeatedly about endings and beginnings all-in-one.

I don’t know what my Musing calendar will bring next.

I still don’t know when I will see him again. My recent query of that nature – and it felt bold to even ask- was met with “I am not sure… and I don’t want to give a date only to disappoint you.” 

I understood. I would have liked something to look forward to, something specific, but I understood.  I will keep breathing and enjoying the moment, experiencing my Musing time differently without his close proximity in physical form.

For now we have Rumi’s field, poetry that has been birthed and is in process, the promise of a book-cover-photo-shoot in the making. And for me, most importantly, I am Knowing on a daily basis the experience Lou Andreas-Salome describes in relationship to her grief following the absence of Rainer Rilke from her life – at least, in the physical form.

She wrote, “Mourning is not as singular a state of emotional preoccupations as is commonly thought: it is, more precisely, an incessant discourse with the departed one, in order to draw him nearer.  For death entails not merely a disappearance but rather a transformation into a new realm of visibility. Something is not just taken away but is gained, in a way never before experienced.  In the moment when the flowing lines of a figures constant change and effect become paralyzed for us, we are imbued for the first time with its essence: something which is never captured or fully realized in the normal course of lived existence.” 

Imbued with essence, she wrote. Transformation into a new realm of visibility, she wrote.  Something that is not just taken away, but is gained, in a way never before experienced, she wrote.

These are the reasons why I can say, why I can know deep in my heart, that the greatest gift my Muse gave me was his physical absence from my life. Absence was the pathway to imbued essence, visibility and transformed experiences.

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Last Friday I posted a blog here and over at Bakersfield.com.... writing, I thought, told a story of how much my friendships with fellow theatre artists mean to me... especially through the struggles of my recent life.

WELL - some very verbal folks over a Bakersfield.com were insensed about Rocky Horror - and went off on the blog post... and now, a couple days later, my head is still spinning from the uproar that was created.

It got NASTY - and not just about the show - people got personal, very personal....calling me a supposed Christian and "not acting my age" (whatever that means! The commenter also mentioned my age as being older than I am, but what the heck does "act your age" mean?!) It was inferred that I was a neglectful parent and leading my children down the path of destruction.

I thought, "Sheesh, I need to keep my postings to the folks who "get" what I am saying over at Bakotopia!

After all the hubbub, the cast and crew did an incredible job opening weekend. They were phenomenal.

I am looking forward to getting some more performance photos - but I wanted to share some more rehearsal shots... so you can see how incredibly normal (most) of the actors in this production really are... not folks waiting to prey upon your children...

Argh. I went to church today... (yes, the supposed Christian that I am does go to church) and I kept wondering who it was there that posted such hurtful things about me.

I'll never know, because they posted anonymously. I usually don't accept anonymous posts, but there were so many.....

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There is a unique energy behind the scenes at a theatre,
during the sacred time when actors and stage crew prepare
to provide an evening of magic for their audience. Just
being there manages to make my heart settle more deeply
into my chest.

Last night I hung out backstage at Rocky Horror rehearsals.
Lots of my friends were there, gathered, preparing.  I
passed out complimentary tickets and chatted, encouraged,
oohed and ahhhed costumes and make-up.

My most important work there, or so it seemed, was to open
my arms and invite people into them, into something that
somehow expands beyond the word “hug.”

The other night I reached out for Billie Joe and as I hugged
him I spoke the words, “I want to breathe you….” which is a
big component of these “expanded beyond the word hug hugs.”

I open my arms, another human being steps into them, I wrap
them up in my arms and hold securely while matching their
breath with my own, conscious, slow, healing breathing.

Last night I breath-hugged Fred and she said, “Wow. That
was the best part of my day.”

I remember when My Muse left Bakersfield, I missed hugging
like this. He and I mastered this form of hugging. I remember
telling him, “I feel like I am walking around, looking
for people to hug me, hold me, breathe with me, and when
they don’t, I almost feel panicked and lost.”

Now, months later – the panic and lost feelings are gone – and
the invitation and pure soul expression is there, in its place.
My intuition guides me towards other souls who are open to
this form of embrace and I simply act upon it, openly,
willingly,receptively.

It has been a month and a day since my brother died. Time
marches on, no matter what. I have learned so much since
that day. One of my recent “a-has” was my response after
hearing the news of John’s death was to get the word out
to as many friends as quickly as possible – mostly theatre
and other artists friends....and I didn’t call it this
at the time, but what I was doing was pouring
my heart into words and making a request – a simple,
universal request.

I was asking my friends to simply love me back.

Love me, back.

Please, love me, back.

It smacked of vulnerability, openness, and willingness
to accept whatever appeared in return.

I open my arms, accept their love in return, and breathe.

It is a big theatre weekend for me,
lots of activity on lots of different
stages as Richard O'Brien's Rocky Horror
Show opens at BCT (I produced that one)
and the One Act Festival holds auditions
(I am producing and directing in that one)
and we begin Tech Week for Streetcar
Named Desire... (I am simply acting
in that one...).

What I am finding, though - is that
the work itself - the getting my hands
and heart deep immersed in the art- is
what I love the most and what I am most
committed to creatively at this point.

This art, I love it, yes....it loves me back.

Richard O’Brien’s Rocky Horror Show opens May 4 at Midnight
at Bakersfield Community Theatre: 2400 S. Chester (just north of
Wilson) and runs for three weekends with shows at Midnight on
Friday and Saturday with 8 PM shows on the first two Saturdays.
Call 831-8114 to make reservations.

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There is a line in the “Streetcar” script that has gotten under my skin and wound its way into my history. It has dredged up old emotions that obviously need to be processed some more.

I never doubt the reasons I am cast exactly as I am cast in exactly the shows that I wind up doing. I used to think it was me and my performance in auditions that determined the shows I do, as time goes on I can definitely feel the divine hand in the process.

It’s a simple line.

“Don’t look.” 

Echoes keep bringing me back to the Emergency Room in 1990.  One of those unbearably raw moments in my personal history that are sometimes easily put into a well-worn box tucked into a dresser of drawers in the corner of the basement.

I don’t go there often, but I know it is there.  It is dark and smells funny and to get down there I have to walk on a rickety staircase.  I don’t like it there.

I remember once when I was a little girl I went to talk to my mother while she was doing laundry in the basement. I can still smell the fabric softener and hear the soft tumbling drier changing the laundry from wet to dry.

I was too afraid to speak my mind, so instead I wrote it down.  I can’t remember what I wrote, but I remember I made my mother horribly angry. She came to me, furious, after I made the climb back up the basement stairs and then up the first flight of stairs into my brightly painted yellow room.

She ask