The next port we came to was Dublin, Ireland. Most exciting for me, indeed, except I didn't see much of it.
You see, as I mentioned before, there are different responsibilities that a person has to maintain while on the
ship, such as boat drills. Well, I knew that my lifeboat number was 9, and that my lifeboat number was not among the listed boats on the roster. What I didn't know was that the first drill that happens after embark is one that you MUST go to- meaning, if your a newbie, you best be there. As it was not my common knowledge, I missed the drill the day before and was dinged upon my attempt to leave the ship (as was my two dancer friends). In other words, no shippy-offy time until we spoke to the chief officer.
The Chief officer was a friendly, but stern guy, so he had to punish us. This meant re-doing a computer training module about ship safety that I had JUST completed three days prior. It would have been fine, if it meant I could just take the test on the module and go, but ooooooooh no- this was one of those you-must-play-all-the-scenes-before-you-can-go-on modules. As such, we were not done until another hour later. Ordinarily, this would still give us plenty of time, seeing as we were at port at 8AM. But what entertainer do you know that purposely gets up at 8AM? And we weren't able to talk to the CO right away, so that meant leaving at 1PM. A 20 minute shuttle later, and we were at the Dublin city center.
Dublin was alive- bigger than Cork, definitely, but not much different in substance, from what I saw. Still full of fun peeps and pubs. And great shopping. I literally had time to grab a beer, a box of chocolates, and a stroll before I was out of time and needed to get to the last shuttle back.
Bye, Dublin.
We sailed across the channel to Cherbourg, France the next day. It would be our only port in France. Seeing as Cherbourg was another small town, several of us cast members decided to make the trek to Mont Saint-Michel- a tidal island castle. A world heritage site, it literally is a fortress town on an island in the middle of land that becomes a huge lake when the tide rolls in. During the day, you can drive right up, and so we rented two cars and did just that (which took about 1 1/2 hours one way).
You've seen Beauty and the Beast, right? No, I'm not talking about the television show, I'm talking about the Disney movie (okay, I've just dated myself with that one.....) When you see Mont Saint-Michel, you imagine that Gaston is going to come barreling out of its gate to tell you how awesome he is and that Belle is already feeling the hot crotch for Beast up in some ballroom high up in the upper reaches of this very vertically built estate. Of course, you'd be wrong, for while there were dungeons and brick roads a-plenty, and watch shops and bakeries galore (you want guard towers? They have twenty) But who cares? No big deal- what was really great was the Monastery at the top.
Incorrect Disney Movie Reference aside.....
It was the Monastery/Abbey that completed the ragged peaks of this solitary fortress-mountain-island. Completed in the 8th century AD, the Abbey was literally the very tip of the iceberg, perfect for some of the most breathtaking views of the surrounding lowland swamps (and the nearby tourist shops). I began following a tour group up the long and slightly narrow ascension street up to the entrance steps where I saw the bell tower imposing- well, not imposing- it was too beautiful for that. It made its statement gracefully, calmly entering the conversation as Grace Kelly would enter into a room at a party. Tall and impressive, it was a bit separate from the rest of the Abbey, and the entrance was a little confusing. There was a huge door which we were not allowed to enter next to a door that led to a museum and kind of souvenir shop, so the Abbey looked
irritatingly small.
"That's it???" I thought, "the monks just crawled up and communed in some crappy bell tower???"
However, I found out the museum/shop was actually the foyer to a grand entrance square to the cathedral portion of the Abbey. It was immense! It was framed with viewing towers at its corner- which probably doubled as archer towers- and was almost as big as the cathedral itself. Once inside, I found that the tip of the iceberg was the tip of the iceberg.
The cathedral was, of course, grandiose and filled with huge windows and high arched ceilings. In the Romaneque style, it was complex in its simplicity, filled with mathematical and symbolic calculation formulated into fantastical spaces of reverence. While the cathedral was a beautiful focal point, there were so many other hidden treasures within the Abbey. The windows, rather than being plied with artistic renditions of biblical lore, were filled with Escher-esque geometical patterns. Inside the fellowship hall were fireplaces- two of them- that were big enough to contain all thirty children on a school field trip who oohed and aahed at the height of the chimneys. Further inside was a huge wooden wheel which was either used for a water mill, a bell pulley, or a midieval torture device- I'm not sure, and could be wrong on all counts, but c'est la vie. To sum up the experience, the Abbey was a labyrinth of awesome.
Okay- confession. Whenever I walk into a church or religious structure of this stature, I hear Bach's "Air on a G String" played in my head. My steps slow and my eyes rarely leave the heights of the architecture. I marvel at human intention and reverence, and I am speechless with questions about engineering artistry. And, I wonder how we can create such fantasia for God, while we muck up ourselves- and each other- on earth. I know that we are human, and I know we aren't perfect. But how is it we can see all the good in God, which created all of us (including the devil) and not somehow seek the good in ourselves and our brethren? Why can we build such a monument to that greatness yet tear each other down? I don't know- it just bothers me sometimes how we shit all over the creations that God made us the stewards of on Earth. We're not supposed to be overlords, not to neglect, disregard, and take advantage of what we're given.
That applies to Earth and opportunity.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The catch-up files (it's like heinz in this piece!) The crossing part four: Land, ho!
So, on a misty May 24th morning, we landed in Cobh, Ireland- a quaint hamlet right on the coast. It boasts a beautiful cathedral on a hill and lovely people. Walking off the ship was a thrill unlike any I've had since I saw Venice for the first time in 1998. The difference here is, not only had I survived seven days at sea as opposed to 15 hours of flight and car travel, I knew that this was the very first definitive example of how much my life had changed and how much I was about to do the same.
The port was located next to the town train station, which also held a mini-plaza of sorts. There were a few tourist shops inside and a small restaurant or two. As I went into one of the souvenir shops, I noticed a rack full of postcards with last names and their Irish history on them. With a hunch, I searched for my surname. Sure enough, there was Jackson! I really am Irish- at least partly, or maybe just due to the fact that some of my ancestors were owned by a rich Irish person. Either way, when I wear the t-shirt that says "I'm the Irishman your mother warned you about" I can do so with pride.
But, I digress.....
We decided that, as lovely as Cobh was, it just wasn't big enough to whet the Irish whistle and boarded the train to Cork- a much bigger town that was approximately 20-30 min. away. So much was already different being in Ireland- the language was different- I mean, Celtic, people- you might as well learn Russian. The pronunciation is so much more different that you'd expect with your roman alphabet and Germanic/Latin sensibilities People did not get much sun there, as to be expected. But there is something about a pale dude with ice blue eyes and dark hair and brooding features that says ZING! Of course, maybe that is just me.
Cork has a truly vibrant energy about it- and seems to be a very open place. we walked from the train- truly the first outing I took with the majority of the cast- and made it to the ped mall. Oh ped mall- the bain and love of my existence for two reasons- H&M and Zara. Those two stores, for those of you not in the know, are SOOO much more appealing in Europe because they are SOOO much different. Fashion, fashion, fashion- and well fitted at that, most of which you'd never find in the US. I did control myself somewhat- getting only one shirt, one pair of pants and two belts.
Needing a caffeine fix, we stopped at a Costa Coffee- a northern European Starbucks-like chain with much more appeal. There, we chilled to a cappuccino and enjoyed feeling a bit bougie. I mean, I was travelling and being paid for it. It just seemed exactly like what I had seen in the movies- I was having my Angelina Jolie moment. Yes, I said Angelina. Why her and not Brad Pitt? Because this is not a period drama- this was happening in real time. Besides, could you see Brad having a coffee in Ireland, or slicing at someone in Greece? I rest my case.
After about an hour, we decided to head back to Cobh so that we could be closer to the ship. Upon arrival, we realized we had not gotten our fill of Irish beer and headed for a pub in town. Lots of dogs wandering around in Cobh, and one made fast friends of Erwin until he knew he wasn't getting anything. On to Vinnie he went, and followed us until we found a bar with a rowdy and decidedly confused crowd of men.
"Arrr arr arrr ar arrrr!" they said. Then, one of them turned to Katelyn and Jessica- the two statuesque and gorgeous dancers and said "IT'S YOU!!!!" To this, the men started jumping up and down and yelling "AAARR AARRRR ARRRRR!" while waving for them to come in. With such a wonderful greeting, we could do nothing more but accept their invitation and promptly head to the bar down the street where they were not.
A nice quiet pub and a nice quiet time, we had a beer or two and walked back to the ship. I had just had my first adventure. And it was exhilarating. I didn't scale a peak or rescue a homeless man or drive 150mph or anything, but the thrill was still concrete, the air was fresh, and my mind was full of possibility.
The port was located next to the town train station, which also held a mini-plaza of sorts. There were a few tourist shops inside and a small restaurant or two. As I went into one of the souvenir shops, I noticed a rack full of postcards with last names and their Irish history on them. With a hunch, I searched for my surname. Sure enough, there was Jackson! I really am Irish- at least partly, or maybe just due to the fact that some of my ancestors were owned by a rich Irish person. Either way, when I wear the t-shirt that says "I'm the Irishman your mother warned you about" I can do so with pride.
But, I digress.....
We decided that, as lovely as Cobh was, it just wasn't big enough to whet the Irish whistle and boarded the train to Cork- a much bigger town that was approximately 20-30 min. away. So much was already different being in Ireland- the language was different- I mean, Celtic, people- you might as well learn Russian. The pronunciation is so much more different that you'd expect with your roman alphabet and Germanic/Latin sensibilities People did not get much sun there, as to be expected. But there is something about a pale dude with ice blue eyes and dark hair and brooding features that says ZING! Of course, maybe that is just me.
Cork has a truly vibrant energy about it- and seems to be a very open place. we walked from the train- truly the first outing I took with the majority of the cast- and made it to the ped mall. Oh ped mall- the bain and love of my existence for two reasons- H&M and Zara. Those two stores, for those of you not in the know, are SOOO much more appealing in Europe because they are SOOO much different. Fashion, fashion, fashion- and well fitted at that, most of which you'd never find in the US. I did control myself somewhat- getting only one shirt, one pair of pants and two belts.
Needing a caffeine fix, we stopped at a Costa Coffee- a northern European Starbucks-like chain with much more appeal. There, we chilled to a cappuccino and enjoyed feeling a bit bougie. I mean, I was travelling and being paid for it. It just seemed exactly like what I had seen in the movies- I was having my Angelina Jolie moment. Yes, I said Angelina. Why her and not Brad Pitt? Because this is not a period drama- this was happening in real time. Besides, could you see Brad having a coffee in Ireland, or slicing at someone in Greece? I rest my case.
After about an hour, we decided to head back to Cobh so that we could be closer to the ship. Upon arrival, we realized we had not gotten our fill of Irish beer and headed for a pub in town. Lots of dogs wandering around in Cobh, and one made fast friends of Erwin until he knew he wasn't getting anything. On to Vinnie he went, and followed us until we found a bar with a rowdy and decidedly confused crowd of men.
"Arrr arr arrr ar arrrr!" they said. Then, one of them turned to Katelyn and Jessica- the two statuesque and gorgeous dancers and said "IT'S YOU!!!!" To this, the men started jumping up and down and yelling "AAARR AARRRR ARRRRR!" while waving for them to come in. With such a wonderful greeting, we could do nothing more but accept their invitation and promptly head to the bar down the street where they were not.
A nice quiet pub and a nice quiet time, we had a beer or two and walked back to the ship. I had just had my first adventure. And it was exhilarating. I didn't scale a peak or rescue a homeless man or drive 150mph or anything, but the thrill was still concrete, the air was fresh, and my mind was full of possibility.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The crossing, part three: sit down, the boat's a-rockin', so don't come a knockin'- or something like that.....
So, come to find out, one thing that water likes to do is make waves (who knew we had so much in common???). During the fifth, maybe sixth, day I had my first true sea-sickness test. I must say I passed it with three pluses, thanks to my Dad, who, when I was a kid, used to fly my brother and I in the single engine Cessnas he used to pilot as a hobby. If you can keep your cookies in one of those making a sharp turn,
you can keep them anywhere.
A rocking ship is kinda fun if you go with it. Somewhat like a constant amusement park ride- it ups and downs, but when it's really rough, as it was that day, you find out there is the crash that accompanies the down. You literally hear a pow that is followed by a jarring shake. Quite enjoyable when you're in bed, which is where you end up quite a bit because the rocking innately brings about your baby instincts if it doesn't bring out your gag reflex. There were, indeed, a few times in which I went "whoooa", but in general I liked
the drama of it.
The most amusing surprise of rough seas is the choreographed dance that occurs when people are walking in the halls. We all try to walk in a straight line, but sea decides otherwise. I mean, you're ON it, after all, it's not like you have a choice. So, soon enough, everyone has moved from the left side of the hall to the right, then back to left- a few stay in the center after a bit of control. A harsh crash may cause you to stop, but if you flow with it a bit, you'll come out on top. Step, step, step and wobble, wobble, wobble, and stumble, stumble, stumble, then bobble, bobble, bobble, and if you make to the place you meant to go without a bruise, then HEY! You've done The Rough Sea Bop!
In case you're wondering, my ocean-staring obsession did not ebb while the ocean was in extreme flux. It was fascinating, as always. The water had given up its healthy blue and become a greyish-brown, showing just how much it, too, was affected by its own motion. Symmetry still reigns during crazy waters- the crests would literally happen in pretty succinct diagonals from each other, though some crests showed their individuality in the form of size. Smaller waves just flew off the side of the ship with relative ease. Their more mammoth brethren attempted to take part of the ship with them, extending their fingers up the side and onto the 3rd, sometimes 4th decks.
No wildlife to be seen obviously, just the tapestry of the seas, but I had to wonder what all that life down there was doing. Where did it hide exactly? I mean, waves go with current and current goes down pretty far, so I'm not sure the reefs can escape the wrath. Did the tuna all bunch up in a ball and wait it out somehow in homage to their less fortunate brethren? Did the octopi stick to the side of a whale that dove a few hundred feet deeper to a less bothersome depth? How did they make it?
And that was the thing- they made it. They made it however they knew how. Or maybe they didn't- I didn't check the latest fish census. But they did what they could, adapted, and made the best of a turbulent situation. And all done with instinct. Thank you, once again, nature, for showing in your own inimitable way that one only needs to do the same, and it will always equal doing one's best.
you can keep them anywhere.
A rocking ship is kinda fun if you go with it. Somewhat like a constant amusement park ride- it ups and downs, but when it's really rough, as it was that day, you find out there is the crash that accompanies the down. You literally hear a pow that is followed by a jarring shake. Quite enjoyable when you're in bed, which is where you end up quite a bit because the rocking innately brings about your baby instincts if it doesn't bring out your gag reflex. There were, indeed, a few times in which I went "whoooa", but in general I liked
the drama of it.
The most amusing surprise of rough seas is the choreographed dance that occurs when people are walking in the halls. We all try to walk in a straight line, but sea decides otherwise. I mean, you're ON it, after all, it's not like you have a choice. So, soon enough, everyone has moved from the left side of the hall to the right, then back to left- a few stay in the center after a bit of control. A harsh crash may cause you to stop, but if you flow with it a bit, you'll come out on top. Step, step, step and wobble, wobble, wobble, and stumble, stumble, stumble, then bobble, bobble, bobble, and if you make to the place you meant to go without a bruise, then HEY! You've done The Rough Sea Bop!
In case you're wondering, my ocean-staring obsession did not ebb while the ocean was in extreme flux. It was fascinating, as always. The water had given up its healthy blue and become a greyish-brown, showing just how much it, too, was affected by its own motion. Symmetry still reigns during crazy waters- the crests would literally happen in pretty succinct diagonals from each other, though some crests showed their individuality in the form of size. Smaller waves just flew off the side of the ship with relative ease. Their more mammoth brethren attempted to take part of the ship with them, extending their fingers up the side and onto the 3rd, sometimes 4th decks.
No wildlife to be seen obviously, just the tapestry of the seas, but I had to wonder what all that life down there was doing. Where did it hide exactly? I mean, waves go with current and current goes down pretty far, so I'm not sure the reefs can escape the wrath. Did the tuna all bunch up in a ball and wait it out somehow in homage to their less fortunate brethren? Did the octopi stick to the side of a whale that dove a few hundred feet deeper to a less bothersome depth? How did they make it?
And that was the thing- they made it. They made it however they knew how. Or maybe they didn't- I didn't check the latest fish census. But they did what they could, adapted, and made the best of a turbulent situation. And all done with instinct. Thank you, once again, nature, for showing in your own inimitable way that one only needs to do the same, and it will always equal doing one's best.
The crossing, part three: ship's innards
So, a couple of updates before I get to the crux of this posting....
I just realized that some of you may not know what I mean by F1, M1, ML, FL, and the like. Well, they are the codes for our voice parts in the show. For example, you have the F1 and the FL- the 1st female and the female legit voice. The F1 is the voice more tuned for broadway and pop, though in Melodie's case, she could do some classical if she really put her mind to it. The female legit voice is the voice which is more classically oriented, though in Talia's case, she also takes on some pop and Broadway classics.
You know, I never understood the title for "legit" voices. It just implies that other voices are not "legit"- is that
really a fair estimate? I mean, just because a voice is not classically trained doesn't make it any less, or any more than another voice. My voice is nice, and it's classically trained, but I make no pretense that classical training makes my voice more important another. Just my two cents.
Back to the subject......
Turnover is a particularly stressful time for us performers- we are getting all of the shows set up for performance well enough that we can sustain ourselves, and the people from the office can go back to LA with big happy smiles on their faces. It requires three rehearsals a day in some instances- one tech rehearsal during the morning and a dress rehearsal in the afternoon of one show, and a midnight dress rehearsal of another show. Oftentimes during the crossing, we were made to throw in performances, of which there were two, one at 8pm and one at 10pm. Luckily for me, out of the six shows that are contracted for the ship, I am only part of four of them. So I did have some breaks which allowed me to become a bit more accustomed to ship life.
So, the ship- it's a biggun! For a long time, before the advent of the superliners, this ship was the biggest in the world (There is a sign, which is still displayed, in the subway station right outside of the terminal in Rotterdam stating that it still is the biggest). It's big enough for 1500 passengers, not including the workers. There's a huge Lido deck where you can get food in four different places, including an Italian restaurant and a pizza place in the back (or the Aft, in ship terms). A pool also exists for the guests in the mid of the Lido, but there is what I'll politely call a wading pool in the back that all can use, but no one uses, mostly because there is just not enough water in it, and a whole bunch of metal chairs in it- not necessarily the yen of one wanting to escape the heat. At least it has a hot tub.
The ship also has a cafe, a library, gym which overlooks the ocean (it looks like your running into
INFINITY), and a casino (off limits to employees, for our own good, I'm sure). There's the Crow's Nest, which is the really nice bar and dance floor at the very top level of the ship, the Showroom at Sea, the lovely golden and burgundy theater which is the performance home of most of the major performances onboard, the Pinnacle Grill- man oh MAN the food at the Pinnacle; Lobster, Filet Mignon, Baked Alaska, heaven by way of food coma- and the Officer's Bar- the place where all the employees get to kick it with some way cheap liquor. Of course, there is also shopping- and of course, I get a discount- all of it paid for by ship account
which is taken directly out of my check.
DANGER!! WATCH YA SELF!!
I have a feeling it's gonna be a bit more difficult than I thought to resist spending temptation........
I just realized that some of you may not know what I mean by F1, M1, ML, FL, and the like. Well, they are the codes for our voice parts in the show. For example, you have the F1 and the FL- the 1st female and the female legit voice. The F1 is the voice more tuned for broadway and pop, though in Melodie's case, she could do some classical if she really put her mind to it. The female legit voice is the voice which is more classically oriented, though in Talia's case, she also takes on some pop and Broadway classics.
You know, I never understood the title for "legit" voices. It just implies that other voices are not "legit"- is that
really a fair estimate? I mean, just because a voice is not classically trained doesn't make it any less, or any more than another voice. My voice is nice, and it's classically trained, but I make no pretense that classical training makes my voice more important another. Just my two cents.
Back to the subject......
Turnover is a particularly stressful time for us performers- we are getting all of the shows set up for performance well enough that we can sustain ourselves, and the people from the office can go back to LA with big happy smiles on their faces. It requires three rehearsals a day in some instances- one tech rehearsal during the morning and a dress rehearsal in the afternoon of one show, and a midnight dress rehearsal of another show. Oftentimes during the crossing, we were made to throw in performances, of which there were two, one at 8pm and one at 10pm. Luckily for me, out of the six shows that are contracted for the ship, I am only part of four of them. So I did have some breaks which allowed me to become a bit more accustomed to ship life.
So, the ship- it's a biggun! For a long time, before the advent of the superliners, this ship was the biggest in the world (There is a sign, which is still displayed, in the subway station right outside of the terminal in Rotterdam stating that it still is the biggest). It's big enough for 1500 passengers, not including the workers. There's a huge Lido deck where you can get food in four different places, including an Italian restaurant and a pizza place in the back (or the Aft, in ship terms). A pool also exists for the guests in the mid of the Lido, but there is what I'll politely call a wading pool in the back that all can use, but no one uses, mostly because there is just not enough water in it, and a whole bunch of metal chairs in it- not necessarily the yen of one wanting to escape the heat. At least it has a hot tub.
The ship also has a cafe, a library, gym which overlooks the ocean (it looks like your running into
INFINITY), and a casino (off limits to employees, for our own good, I'm sure). There's the Crow's Nest, which is the really nice bar and dance floor at the very top level of the ship, the Showroom at Sea, the lovely golden and burgundy theater which is the performance home of most of the major performances onboard, the Pinnacle Grill- man oh MAN the food at the Pinnacle; Lobster, Filet Mignon, Baked Alaska, heaven by way of food coma- and the Officer's Bar- the place where all the employees get to kick it with some way cheap liquor. Of course, there is also shopping- and of course, I get a discount- all of it paid for by ship account
which is taken directly out of my check.
DANGER!! WATCH YA SELF!!
I have a feeling it's gonna be a bit more difficult than I thought to resist spending temptation........
Saturday, August 27, 2011
The crossing, part two: complete contemplation
I found myself staring at the water. After all, this was the first time I had ever been completely surrounded by water on all sides- I mean, technically being on any continent means you're surrounded, but if you would all stop being so nerdy for a second and keep in mind that a boat in the ocean is much smaller and much closer to water than, say, Dayton, OH, you'd catch my meaning. It was mesmerizing. I just kept looking and looking and looking. Observing the patterns of the waves- how they seemed to have a symmetry and how they all danced with purpose as they foamed into the bow of the ship. Even the foam was hypnotic- the white formed a puffy iridescent lace that fell into aquamarine and then to crystal blue- the ocean knitting its own fabric of sorts. I couldn't get enough.
There is also something about floating on top of a whole new habitat. You know- there's tons of stuff down there- stuff that can only live in water, and only in salt water at that. Of course, you could say the same thing about living on land, as there are things that live in the earth and such. But nothing in the earth is as big as an 800-pound tuna, or a shark, or a WHALE.....and thank God for that- imagine the nightmare it would pose
for city planning. As it is, thinking about the fact that they have now found colossal squid, it's hard not to imagine the antique inscribed novels of tentacles rising out of the ocean to drag a vessel to the murky depths. Or worse yet, to imagine that the megalodon still exists and is coming to bite a hunk out of the Rotterdam, just as the curtain rises for showtime.
Okay- so now I'M being a nerd- I never said I wasn't. OH- did I tell you that I saw a stingray come up in the waves? An actual stingray- triangular with the long tapered broomstick tail. For the most part I had only seen a bird or the occasional kelp patch. But even thinking about the bird- how it floated with no one else around- no other birds, no other boats, nothing for miles. And it was perfectly fine with its life- no panic no stress. Chillin. I couldn't help but think that was somehow a symbol of how I needed to see life. Not that the bird would always be alone, and not that I would be either. But that the ocean- and life- Would take care of things as long as the bird and I did what we had to do.
It's a tricky place to be in life. It requires tremendous faith and tremendous oblivion. You've gotta ignore a whole bunch of bullshit that is constantly being lobbed at you by family, friends, magazines, the news, movies, commercials, billboards- pretty much everywhere you look. Without this sounding like the beginning of an after-school special, it just means letting go of a bunch of pre-conceived notions about what one SHOULD be doing with life. In other words, the only thing one should be doing is what one wants to do. Given that I've lived with many regrets, I began to realize how much I had not done just that. That's what got me to audition in the first place.
The bird on the water was so calm. He/she didn't dive, didn't flap, didn't even move his/her head to observe the massiveness passing it by. It just kept floating along, rocking along with the waves. Time for me to do the same. I mean, 'tis truly a very in-between place- one never feels quite settled. The funny thing is, there is no better way to feel more grounded.
There is also something about floating on top of a whole new habitat. You know- there's tons of stuff down there- stuff that can only live in water, and only in salt water at that. Of course, you could say the same thing about living on land, as there are things that live in the earth and such. But nothing in the earth is as big as an 800-pound tuna, or a shark, or a WHALE.....and thank God for that- imagine the nightmare it would pose
for city planning. As it is, thinking about the fact that they have now found colossal squid, it's hard not to imagine the antique inscribed novels of tentacles rising out of the ocean to drag a vessel to the murky depths. Or worse yet, to imagine that the megalodon still exists and is coming to bite a hunk out of the Rotterdam, just as the curtain rises for showtime.
Okay- so now I'M being a nerd- I never said I wasn't. OH- did I tell you that I saw a stingray come up in the waves? An actual stingray- triangular with the long tapered broomstick tail. For the most part I had only seen a bird or the occasional kelp patch. But even thinking about the bird- how it floated with no one else around- no other birds, no other boats, nothing for miles. And it was perfectly fine with its life- no panic no stress. Chillin. I couldn't help but think that was somehow a symbol of how I needed to see life. Not that the bird would always be alone, and not that I would be either. But that the ocean- and life- Would take care of things as long as the bird and I did what we had to do.
It's a tricky place to be in life. It requires tremendous faith and tremendous oblivion. You've gotta ignore a whole bunch of bullshit that is constantly being lobbed at you by family, friends, magazines, the news, movies, commercials, billboards- pretty much everywhere you look. Without this sounding like the beginning of an after-school special, it just means letting go of a bunch of pre-conceived notions about what one SHOULD be doing with life. In other words, the only thing one should be doing is what one wants to do. Given that I've lived with many regrets, I began to realize how much I had not done just that. That's what got me to audition in the first place.
The bird on the water was so calm. He/she didn't dive, didn't flap, didn't even move his/her head to observe the massiveness passing it by. It just kept floating along, rocking along with the waves. Time for me to do the same. I mean, 'tis truly a very in-between place- one never feels quite settled. The funny thing is, there is no better way to feel more grounded.
The crossing, part one: jitterbug
The crossing
On the morning of May 17th, I awoke from the most amazing three hours of sleep I had ever gotten in order to prepare for my departure on the ms ROTTERDAM. a king sized bed all to myself had enveloped me in its comfy confines for the evening and it didn't want to let me go. And, I'll have to admit, I didn't want to let it go, either. But sometimes you have to bid adieu to even the most cozy of relationships, and so I gave the bed of the gods a groggy goodbye, packed my suitcase- which had somehow exploded clothing casualties all over the room in one night- and headed downstairs.
The lobby was buzzing with activity- people adding to the luggage totem pole forming near the front desk, other sleepyheads munching sluggishly on danish, and the eager ones outside- their morning preparations complete- and waiting on the shuttle, even though it would be another 20 minutes before it arrived.
I headed to the omelette line- which would become a refrain during the actual cruise- and grabbed a pastry, a coffee, and an orange juice and a seat. All was delicious and all was quickly consumed (with the exception of the seat, of course- I wasn't THAT hungry). I realized that there were still some things I needed to pick up before we left, as toiletries and such were not easy to come by on the ocean, go figure. Kmart was across the street, but didn't open until long after we were gone. Thus the shell station convenience store became
my stop.
Man, Florida was pretty muggy that May morning. As I did much running to make sure I got back in time, I had inadvertently invented the brand new, all-new, for the latest season, for ALL seasons: "sweaty chic". That's right- wear a sassy dress shirt, a vintage skinny tie, a pair of pants that slightly hugs the ass. And, the piece de resistance, sweat to the point that it's dripping off your chin. I tell ya, there is no better way to gain that second-look glance that says "what the hell are you wearing?" That's right baby. Then walk in, grab that toothpaste and pay for it like "what???"
At any rate......
It took us about 20 minutes to get to the ship, maybe less. Passing through minor forests and swamps, we suddenly came to a rather industrial looking area that became completely invisible once I saw the jewel of the seas- the ms Rotterdam. Okay, okay- that's a rather trite, unimaginative way to describe it, but I can onlyt speak to how I was affected knowing that I would be living on this vessel for the next 8 months. And like a jewel, it was beautiful and exciting- and you hesitate at it because, well, I don't know.... because maybe deep down inside you wonder if it's too good to be true- or that if you touch it, it might lose its value.
More on that later....
So, as to be expected, embarkment onto a ship is full of a whole bunch of bureaucracies that are important to the safety, understanding and well-being of each worker. I hastily brought my luggage into my room (which Melodie, the F1 pointed out to me) and headed to a morning of meetings and drill tests, finding out where my assigned lifeboat was and the like. By 11am, I was in the Showroom at Sea where we were preparing for the first round of rehearsals. There I met my fellow cast members: Erwin, the zany M1 with the mellow soulful pop Musical theatre voice; Morie, the M2 with the bright voice and personality to match; Vinnie, the Male Comic whose person and voice are as unmistakeable as they are irreplaceable; Melodie- the F1 of the aforementioned F1s- who's got a voice with big brass cahones and Talia- the FL- and therefore my on-stage partner in crime- the sweet soprano who can float high notes as if they were in the middle of her range. Though I was admittedly shy at first, I was also pretty certain that we would get along famously. The rehearsal went well, and we had a break for lunch.
After lunch, I was put on a sort of signature scavenger hunt. There was this card that we needed to complete in order to get our ship identification, without which we would not be able to get off the ship. You see, the ID is not only the way that you prove that you are an employee of the ship to the customs agents at the gates, it proves that you have an actual passport to the agents as well- people without passports cannot travel, after all. So, I was keen to get the card completed. The only thing was that I could not find all the people
needed to sign. Some people told me that it is done on purpose- that the card often times is not finished in a day. All I could say was thank goodness I had a whole week of sea travel or else I would've been PISSED not being able to get off the ship at a port.
After I did all that I could, I spent some time getting my room together and prepared to take part of my very first performance- the opening show known as "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now". Yes, you are correct- it is named after the Jefferson Starship song of the same name- and we do sing and dance to it. THe show ends up showcasing all of the singers and the two dancers (minus Vinnie, for some odd reason). We each sing a solo excerpt- mine being "Man of LaMancha". It's light, it's easy, it wracked my nerves horribly. I mean, this was the first time I had been in a long term performance contract in years. The need to make a good impression was extremely strong, especially given the fact that most of the cast knew and had worked with each other before I got there. But, I think I did a fine job- I mean, I didn't crack or anything, and I took command of the stage for my solo. That's all I could ask for.
Not bad for a first night on the ship. I spent the rest of the evening in my room (after a midnight rehearsal for the Broadway show) in contemplation. Will I sully this diamond opportunity? You see, I took a hard look at myself and realized, well before I took this gig, that I've had many great opportunities that I took for granted. Chances that I ruined due to my own lack of trust in the universe, or even my own pervading impatience. I have always wanted things now, now, now, and not been good with falling in love with the process. And all of this was based in a fear of failure- a fear that I brought into reality more times than I really cared to know or admit. So, right then, I made a pact that I would try hard to kick those fears to the curve- to accept my imperfection and to let go of my past habits. And to accept that it would take some work, but it's a helluva lot better than living the same life, making the same decisions. A prayer, and a little writing, I closed my eyes to my first day.
On the morning of May 17th, I awoke from the most amazing three hours of sleep I had ever gotten in order to prepare for my departure on the ms ROTTERDAM. a king sized bed all to myself had enveloped me in its comfy confines for the evening and it didn't want to let me go. And, I'll have to admit, I didn't want to let it go, either. But sometimes you have to bid adieu to even the most cozy of relationships, and so I gave the bed of the gods a groggy goodbye, packed my suitcase- which had somehow exploded clothing casualties all over the room in one night- and headed downstairs.
The lobby was buzzing with activity- people adding to the luggage totem pole forming near the front desk, other sleepyheads munching sluggishly on danish, and the eager ones outside- their morning preparations complete- and waiting on the shuttle, even though it would be another 20 minutes before it arrived.
I headed to the omelette line- which would become a refrain during the actual cruise- and grabbed a pastry, a coffee, and an orange juice and a seat. All was delicious and all was quickly consumed (with the exception of the seat, of course- I wasn't THAT hungry). I realized that there were still some things I needed to pick up before we left, as toiletries and such were not easy to come by on the ocean, go figure. Kmart was across the street, but didn't open until long after we were gone. Thus the shell station convenience store became
my stop.
Man, Florida was pretty muggy that May morning. As I did much running to make sure I got back in time, I had inadvertently invented the brand new, all-new, for the latest season, for ALL seasons: "sweaty chic". That's right- wear a sassy dress shirt, a vintage skinny tie, a pair of pants that slightly hugs the ass. And, the piece de resistance, sweat to the point that it's dripping off your chin. I tell ya, there is no better way to gain that second-look glance that says "what the hell are you wearing?" That's right baby. Then walk in, grab that toothpaste and pay for it like "what???"
At any rate......
It took us about 20 minutes to get to the ship, maybe less. Passing through minor forests and swamps, we suddenly came to a rather industrial looking area that became completely invisible once I saw the jewel of the seas- the ms Rotterdam. Okay, okay- that's a rather trite, unimaginative way to describe it, but I can onlyt speak to how I was affected knowing that I would be living on this vessel for the next 8 months. And like a jewel, it was beautiful and exciting- and you hesitate at it because, well, I don't know.... because maybe deep down inside you wonder if it's too good to be true- or that if you touch it, it might lose its value.
More on that later....
So, as to be expected, embarkment onto a ship is full of a whole bunch of bureaucracies that are important to the safety, understanding and well-being of each worker. I hastily brought my luggage into my room (which Melodie, the F1 pointed out to me) and headed to a morning of meetings and drill tests, finding out where my assigned lifeboat was and the like. By 11am, I was in the Showroom at Sea where we were preparing for the first round of rehearsals. There I met my fellow cast members: Erwin, the zany M1 with the mellow soulful pop Musical theatre voice; Morie, the M2 with the bright voice and personality to match; Vinnie, the Male Comic whose person and voice are as unmistakeable as they are irreplaceable; Melodie- the F1 of the aforementioned F1s- who's got a voice with big brass cahones and Talia- the FL- and therefore my on-stage partner in crime- the sweet soprano who can float high notes as if they were in the middle of her range. Though I was admittedly shy at first, I was also pretty certain that we would get along famously. The rehearsal went well, and we had a break for lunch.
After lunch, I was put on a sort of signature scavenger hunt. There was this card that we needed to complete in order to get our ship identification, without which we would not be able to get off the ship. You see, the ID is not only the way that you prove that you are an employee of the ship to the customs agents at the gates, it proves that you have an actual passport to the agents as well- people without passports cannot travel, after all. So, I was keen to get the card completed. The only thing was that I could not find all the people
needed to sign. Some people told me that it is done on purpose- that the card often times is not finished in a day. All I could say was thank goodness I had a whole week of sea travel or else I would've been PISSED not being able to get off the ship at a port.
After I did all that I could, I spent some time getting my room together and prepared to take part of my very first performance- the opening show known as "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now". Yes, you are correct- it is named after the Jefferson Starship song of the same name- and we do sing and dance to it. THe show ends up showcasing all of the singers and the two dancers (minus Vinnie, for some odd reason). We each sing a solo excerpt- mine being "Man of LaMancha". It's light, it's easy, it wracked my nerves horribly. I mean, this was the first time I had been in a long term performance contract in years. The need to make a good impression was extremely strong, especially given the fact that most of the cast knew and had worked with each other before I got there. But, I think I did a fine job- I mean, I didn't crack or anything, and I took command of the stage for my solo. That's all I could ask for.
Not bad for a first night on the ship. I spent the rest of the evening in my room (after a midnight rehearsal for the Broadway show) in contemplation. Will I sully this diamond opportunity? You see, I took a hard look at myself and realized, well before I took this gig, that I've had many great opportunities that I took for granted. Chances that I ruined due to my own lack of trust in the universe, or even my own pervading impatience. I have always wanted things now, now, now, and not been good with falling in love with the process. And all of this was based in a fear of failure- a fear that I brought into reality more times than I really cared to know or admit. So, right then, I made a pact that I would try hard to kick those fears to the curve- to accept my imperfection and to let go of my past habits. And to accept that it would take some work, but it's a helluva lot better than living the same life, making the same decisions. A prayer, and a little writing, I closed my eyes to my first day.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Beginning
So, Alas, I write this thing- my blog- my journal- my "I'll keep y'allz informed through the internet" thing.
As some of you know, and many might not know, I finally got a job that actually uses my collegiate and graduate training- I am a singer on Holland America Cruise Line. Now, as those of you who have had cruise gigs know, working on a cruise line is awesome in the way that we've all dreamed about as musicians- room and board paid, a weekly stipend, and regular performance. What makes this gig particularly galactic is the beautiful ship itself, which is more yacht-like than cruisey and the itinerary, which, for the purpose of keeping you in "blog-spense" (see how I did that?!?!) will be revealed as I go along. Those of you a bit more info-impatient, well, you can find anything on the web. Word? Word.
Officially, I have been on my new home, the ms ROTTERDAM since May 17th, 2011 and have much to write about. But blogs must be succinct and I have much to catch up on. So, I'll start before the journey began by talking about what I affectionately called "The Resurrection Insurrection"- my going away party.
WARNING- this entry will not be short, so there!
We churched it out on April 24th, 2011- which was Easter. It also was the date in which, fifteen years prior, I decided to stop lying to/about myself and be openly gay, or, the date known as "JJ Gay Day" (titled by my good friend Benubi). It was therefore, the perfect day for a gathering. After all, Easter is all about triumvirate/three-in-one goodness and I was celebrating my own sort of rebirth.
You see, I had been dealing with many huge personal losses in 2010- the death of my father (which occured in 2007, but is still difficult), the loss of many relationships, including a romantic one, and a near collapse of my finances. Sometimes bad things come in threes, and those losses stung quite deeply. But, as they say, you take the good you take the bad- and it all gave me serious perspective on living and letting go.
It was a long battle, but the victory surely required a celebration. And, the celebration had to be GRAND.
The party would therefore be a pot-luck. With my beautiful, zany mother providing gumbo, cornbread, and a lemon-raspberry tart and I smoking a turkey. The undertaking for a smoked turkey was painstaking and awesome and painstakingly awesome. First, the smoker had to be primed by getting it to optimum temperature and keeping it that way for 2 hours. Then, I had to soak the turkey in a brine- a fragrant goulash of black peppercorns, garlic, thyme, salt, pink salt (which helps seal in the juices even more), sugar, water, and bay leaves. There had to be enough to cover the bird, so I had to make 4 gallons of the stuff (brewed on the stove) and throw it all in a cooler outside for 24 hours, making sure the brine remained cold while the turkey sealed its juices. Then, after washing off the salt, drying the turkey and keeping it in the fridge for 12 hours more, it arose from the frost a pristine white, cleansed of its penchant for dryness.
My good friend Nick came over Easter morning to assist with this endeavor as he had smoked meats before, and honestly, I've never seen someone whose whole being fired up at the mention of smoked meats like Nick. We came down the back stair, and I realized I had forgotten something inside so I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Nick had closed it behind us and locked us out. And my keys and my cell phone were inside. And the front door buzzer didn't work, so there was very little chance to wake up Meredith, who was allowing the party to happen at her place (where I was also a temporary roommate). Fortunately, Bagel (Meredith's dog) and her aching cuteness had made the journey outside with us. Her bark+my ingenuity= plan.
I took Bagel's tennis ball and threw it at Meredith's window, hoping it would wake her. The action of the ball throwing made Bagel excited, who told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was now time to throw it in her direction and she wasn't shutting up until I did. This, of course, I thought would work to my advantage, but, no response from Meredith. Finally, we looked next door where some gentlemen were working on a ladder. As they say, ask and you shall receive- soon I was shimmying up a ladder to Meredith's window. I knocked, gingerly- of course not normally what one would do un-slumber a person, but I didn't want to freak her out.
"Yes?" she said.
"It's Jason", I said.
"Hey baby!" she said, and we proceeded to have a conversation as if we had just met for coffee.
After a few minutes, she wondered "what are you doing outside of my window?"
"I was locked out and I was trying to get your attention with a ball and Bagel, so now I'm on a ladder."
"Oh! I wondered why Bagel was barking, but figured she'd stop sooner or later." She got up, got me in, and the party set-up continued.
Mom and my step-dad Mark arrived in the afternoon, as did my friends Benubi and Chris, and before I knew it, the rest of the congregation was arriving with their own culinary offerings. So much food!! and ALLL of it heavenly. But, the piece de resistance, the turkey, was absolutely divine- it arose from the smoker looking like a Norman Rockwell painting. Its entrance to the dining room literally caused gasps. And the turkey was so juicy it sho nuff did cause a revival. All were gorged, and all were happy.
The party began to wind down around 10pm, but my friends and I couldn't resist a night at Mary's Attic so a few of us headed over and sang our hallelujahs at karaoke. And the best part? We went back to the apartment afterwards and grubbed some more- that's right, even the party itself resurrected! Meredith testified on guitar, the rest of us shouted our approvals, and we proceeded to hoover up the rest of the food with our mouths. Revelry done, we passed out in our respective beds.
It was the best party I could have asked for. There were many other people that I wished could have made it, but the people that were there were definitely supposed to be there. Each and everyone that came contributed to a night of perfection. From the bottom of my filled heart, I thank you all for coming.You all helped to create a send off that surpassed my wildest dreams.
As some of you know, and many might not know, I finally got a job that actually uses my collegiate and graduate training- I am a singer on Holland America Cruise Line. Now, as those of you who have had cruise gigs know, working on a cruise line is awesome in the way that we've all dreamed about as musicians- room and board paid, a weekly stipend, and regular performance. What makes this gig particularly galactic is the beautiful ship itself, which is more yacht-like than cruisey and the itinerary, which, for the purpose of keeping you in "blog-spense" (see how I did that?!?!) will be revealed as I go along. Those of you a bit more info-impatient, well, you can find anything on the web. Word? Word.
Officially, I have been on my new home, the ms ROTTERDAM since May 17th, 2011 and have much to write about. But blogs must be succinct and I have much to catch up on. So, I'll start before the journey began by talking about what I affectionately called "The Resurrection Insurrection"- my going away party.
WARNING- this entry will not be short, so there!
We churched it out on April 24th, 2011- which was Easter. It also was the date in which, fifteen years prior, I decided to stop lying to/about myself and be openly gay, or, the date known as "JJ Gay Day" (titled by my good friend Benubi). It was therefore, the perfect day for a gathering. After all, Easter is all about triumvirate/three-in-one goodness and I was celebrating my own sort of rebirth.
You see, I had been dealing with many huge personal losses in 2010- the death of my father (which occured in 2007, but is still difficult), the loss of many relationships, including a romantic one, and a near collapse of my finances. Sometimes bad things come in threes, and those losses stung quite deeply. But, as they say, you take the good you take the bad- and it all gave me serious perspective on living and letting go.
It was a long battle, but the victory surely required a celebration. And, the celebration had to be GRAND.
The party would therefore be a pot-luck. With my beautiful, zany mother providing gumbo, cornbread, and a lemon-raspberry tart and I smoking a turkey. The undertaking for a smoked turkey was painstaking and awesome and painstakingly awesome. First, the smoker had to be primed by getting it to optimum temperature and keeping it that way for 2 hours. Then, I had to soak the turkey in a brine- a fragrant goulash of black peppercorns, garlic, thyme, salt, pink salt (which helps seal in the juices even more), sugar, water, and bay leaves. There had to be enough to cover the bird, so I had to make 4 gallons of the stuff (brewed on the stove) and throw it all in a cooler outside for 24 hours, making sure the brine remained cold while the turkey sealed its juices. Then, after washing off the salt, drying the turkey and keeping it in the fridge for 12 hours more, it arose from the frost a pristine white, cleansed of its penchant for dryness.
My good friend Nick came over Easter morning to assist with this endeavor as he had smoked meats before, and honestly, I've never seen someone whose whole being fired up at the mention of smoked meats like Nick. We came down the back stair, and I realized I had forgotten something inside so I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Nick had closed it behind us and locked us out. And my keys and my cell phone were inside. And the front door buzzer didn't work, so there was very little chance to wake up Meredith, who was allowing the party to happen at her place (where I was also a temporary roommate). Fortunately, Bagel (Meredith's dog) and her aching cuteness had made the journey outside with us. Her bark+my ingenuity= plan.
I took Bagel's tennis ball and threw it at Meredith's window, hoping it would wake her. The action of the ball throwing made Bagel excited, who told me, in no uncertain terms, that it was now time to throw it in her direction and she wasn't shutting up until I did. This, of course, I thought would work to my advantage, but, no response from Meredith. Finally, we looked next door where some gentlemen were working on a ladder. As they say, ask and you shall receive- soon I was shimmying up a ladder to Meredith's window. I knocked, gingerly- of course not normally what one would do un-slumber a person, but I didn't want to freak her out.
"Yes?" she said.
"It's Jason", I said.
"Hey baby!" she said, and we proceeded to have a conversation as if we had just met for coffee.
After a few minutes, she wondered "what are you doing outside of my window?"
"I was locked out and I was trying to get your attention with a ball and Bagel, so now I'm on a ladder."
"Oh! I wondered why Bagel was barking, but figured she'd stop sooner or later." She got up, got me in, and the party set-up continued.
Mom and my step-dad Mark arrived in the afternoon, as did my friends Benubi and Chris, and before I knew it, the rest of the congregation was arriving with their own culinary offerings. So much food!! and ALLL of it heavenly. But, the piece de resistance, the turkey, was absolutely divine- it arose from the smoker looking like a Norman Rockwell painting. Its entrance to the dining room literally caused gasps. And the turkey was so juicy it sho nuff did cause a revival. All were gorged, and all were happy.
The party began to wind down around 10pm, but my friends and I couldn't resist a night at Mary's Attic so a few of us headed over and sang our hallelujahs at karaoke. And the best part? We went back to the apartment afterwards and grubbed some more- that's right, even the party itself resurrected! Meredith testified on guitar, the rest of us shouted our approvals, and we proceeded to hoover up the rest of the food with our mouths. Revelry done, we passed out in our respective beds.
It was the best party I could have asked for. There were many other people that I wished could have made it, but the people that were there were definitely supposed to be there. Each and everyone that came contributed to a night of perfection. From the bottom of my filled heart, I thank you all for coming.You all helped to create a send off that surpassed my wildest dreams.
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