Living off Ketchup Packets

Less than 2 weeks ago I went through the graduation ceremony. I am/was a double major in Political Science and Dramatic Arts (emph: Theatre). As I look back on my 4 years in Davis, I can recall the countless amount of times working adults have said, "Wow, so are you going to do political theatre?" "Oh I get it, its the theatrics of politics, you're going to be a lawyer!" "Interesting combo of majors, why would you do that?" Every time I have smiled and politely responded that they are two interests. So what if I like a diverse school day and education? After asking about my "career plan" I respond that I am moving to LA to pursue a dream that I have had since 2nd grade of becoming a working actor.

I used to try explaining that I think it's important for any performer or artist to always expose themselves to different interests, experiences, and fields of knowledge. Not only will it give you a better understanding of the world around you, but it helps with your art. One should never (in my opinion) be single-minded. It causes you to love yourself in the arts as opposed to loving the art within you. An actor's job (or any artist for that matter) is to give something or share some awareness of the world to their audience. If all you know is "your craft" you risk being un-relatable.

These types of answers don't bode well with adults that make a living. Sometimes I am even asked if my parents support me. The truth is (as our graduation speaker said), in 20 years you could be 40 and making a decent living, or you could be 40 and doing what you love. And you know what? I'm aware making it as a working actor is close to impossible. But the only way to fail in Hollywood (and in life, I suppose) is to give up. There are too many opportunities for such a range of different types of people and its about knowing yourself, and where you can fit.

So you might not see me on the stand defending a client or in the Senate pushing legislation making an honorable living. But give me a few years, and you might see a glimmer of someone who looks familiar on Law and Order. Or maybe not... maybe it'll be a Clean and Clear commercial. Whatever it is, LA... here I come.

Breeds and Stigmas

Last week my dad and I took a father-daughter beach trip for bonding. We packed our boogie-boards, and headed out for an hour long drive to Ventura for the day.

As we talked he began to talk about my grandmother (his mom) who is developing dementia as she ages. She has also become very set in her ways. He began to describe, not quite a vent, mind you, her personality over recent years.

As he began, somehow the comment came up that she is half Scottish and that must be where her stubbornness comes from. Now I am not as argumentative as I was in high school with my dad anymore. I have learned to channel my frustrations regarding my dad’s sometimes inappropriate comments into that of discussion. So we continued to talk about culture. As we continued, somehow he began to try to re-put together my own ethnicity and origins. He began, “Well, you’re half Jewish…”

“No, I’m not, Dad. I am 100 percent Jewish. It’s not a race or a gene. It’s a religion.” Fifty percent of my body can’t believe Jesus is our Savior, and Fifty percent believe he’s just a nice guy, am I right?

“So what do you say then?” he asked, clearly trying to prove his right-ness.

“I’m half Russian, Dad. If you can even say that. We’re talking about origins.”

Of course different things are acceptable and PC for different generations, sometimes with your family it isn’t a good idea to correct them. But this began my thoughts on race culture and attaching a stigma or personality trait as I pondered his umbrella Scottish comment.

A few days later I was at the farmer’s market with a good friend and I began to describe a puppy in the pet shop that I had fallen in love with. I had talked to my dog-loving aunt about it. I told my friend that my aunt and I later looked up my new-found love in a dog encyclopedia. It told us that the breed (an Akita) was not considered a people-dog, but is generally very loyal to its sole owner. I expressed (not that I was in the position to become a new dog owner) that this information was really discouraging and sad.

My friend told me that she owns a pitbull back at home (I own a black lab). I asked, “Aren’t they typically aggressive dogs?” She explained that it depends how you raise any dog and continued by saying they raised theirs with a lot of love, so it’s a very sweet and docile dog.

This made me think a lot about prejudices. If dog breeds are like human races or cultures, than all of these umbrella descriptions of dog types is the same things as our stereotyping or prejudice comments, which brought me hard to the point that it is our conditions that shape us. Maybe my dad had a glimmer of a point calling my grandma stubborn, but maybe that point should be redirected. Maybe its that in Scotland there is dark weather and her family worked as tough peasants farming potatoes so they became hard, and ran their families with hard family values. I don’t know. Point is, that our cultural traditions and family is what gives us our personality traits not our stereotype or race.

Maybe equating dog breeds and humans is offensive, but what I found was a strange connection between how our descriptions and perspectives as well as their practical applications and how those evolve. Like someone mentioned in class, “anything can be myth, because fact is all something we’ve just agreed upon for now.” So next time someone is shocked that he was attacked by a golden retriever, its answers may just lie a lot in the dogs upbringing and owners, not its believed personality in some encyclopedia.

Just when I thought I was a tourist

Studying abroad in Italy was a memorable and unique experience. I lived there for half a year, took classes, become fairly fluent, and traveled almost every weekend around the country to experience this new culture and these new places.
The second or third weekend in Siena, a few friends and I had decided to take a trip to Venice. Most of our language skills were minimal at that point, but we could get around and express our needs in Italian when faced with public situations.
We got a little hungry around lunch on our second day and decided to stop at the next little shop for panini. In Italy, you do not tip but you pay a sitting fee for sitting at their tables. Being the cheap students we are, we ordered our food and carried it out and picks some steps in the sun to park our tired bodies. As we sat there enjoying our meal, we overheard an American tourist raising his voice outside of the cafe. After listening more carefully, it became apparent that he was asking the Italian gentleman if his beverage had sugar in it. He became increasingly more frustrated as the Italian man couldn't understand him. After a few minutes of this, my friend Joe, went up to the counter asked the American if he could help and then translated his needs to the Italian. Problem solved.
Initially, I was angry at the American and slightly embarrassed. How could he expect the Italian to understand him in a country that is not his own? Which brings us to a keyword, tourism. The interesting thing about being a tourist is that you travel to see the sights of another country, however are confined to your American bubble and still under the comforts of your own culture. In big cities for example, menus and museum plaques are translated.
Visiting a new country as a tourist is like going to Disneyland in some ways: you can enjoy a place on the surface. However, you may not understand the origins or culture or a people fully without living with it. Its like a false and safe way to see the world.
The point is that a true worldly experience may not be in seeing the sights but maybe trying something you might fail at like speaking the language, eating at a restaurant with an untranslated menu, or taking local transportation.
Rick Steves says that in Venice, there is no planning, the joy of the city is getting lost in it. This just might be the answer in all travel and understanding: Let go, get lost, and understanding comes from exposing yourself to something to might be slightly uncomfortable.

New Keywords Adventure

I suppose my story isn't a big adventure. I was cleaning my room and relaxing on my bed when 7 o'clock rolled around. My room is still currently a mess, go figure.

I plan to take a hard copy look at the book in the library under reserves tomorrow. I instead sat down on my hard-as-a-rock computer chair at my desk and looked up the book on google books so that I could at least see a few pages for now. It’s going to be interesting to get confused. But back to my sitting situation.

This chair has been with me since my sophomore year here at UC Davis. Like many things in my room, they are "temporary" (as my dad would say), and thus often come from a mold that would be considered lower than Pier 1's standards.

However it is all temporary. This caused me to ponder the temporary nature of all of my things and even phases in college. From being an legitimate starving college student and living off 30 cent burritos at the co-op for at least a month to my brother's old half of a bunk-bed. Somehow I have found a home amongst all of the temporary, and feel melancholy to leave what I made feel right and permanent.