Kristen vs. Community College

My semester as a full time student at CCP:

The CCP bake sale is where they charge $1 per donut from an opened box of possibly expired Entemanns.

My group project is due today. After coming up with the idea, developping the format, and writing the position portion, I found myself spending an hour and a half reformating a paper that I wanted to have turned in Monday. After saving twice and hitting print, I found that it had neither printed nor saved. When asking for technical assistance the man said, "Yeaaahh, that's gone."

Later, I found that my wallet was missing. When I returned to the computer lab to ask about it the man said, "Yeeaaahhh, that's gone". It was returned to security later, sans $100 in cash and whatever change the perpetrator thought was necessary to help feed his vending machine Super Ball addiction.

The first reference on my teammate's work cited page is Wikipedia.

A breakdown of class time at CCP:
ASL 105
35-40 minutes: Discussing for the 80th time what homework is due next week and when the final exam is.
12 minutes: Personal annecdotes from the teacher's glory days
12 minutes: Actual material of what will be on the exam.
15 minnutes: Discussing what we might go over next class.
20 minutes: Home video
5 minutes: Not sure. Instructor left early for a dentist appointment, which is better than last time when she left because she had a date.

I cannot wait for this semester to be over. Yeeaaaahh, I'm gone.

The Actor and The HR Representative

She sits patiently with her hair pulled back and her wrists resting on the table in front of her, in the European style of dining, just in case she needs to gesture casually as she tells some terribly witty and convincing story about her many triumphs in whatever field she is applying for. Today, she is Corporate Barbie, wearing the black pants she's only worn when she was an usher at the local theatre her freshman year of college, the oxford shirt she wore in a commercial she shot in Jersey, and the black flats she used to wear when she worked for a catering company. A woman with a smile that never reaches her eyes and a well-practiced quite laugh enters the room and immediately begins firing questions at her victim like foam darts from a Nerf gun.

HR rep: Tell me about yourself

Actor: (Does so)

HR rep: (After giving her an, 'oh, is that all?' look) Why did you leave your last job?

Actor: Because the show closed...so they wouldn't let me perform on the stage anymore...

HR rep: What are your biggest strengths as an employee?

Actor: I carried the set of 'You Can't Take it With You" up a fire-escape once.

HR rep: Your biggest weakness?

Actor: I nearly fell through the ceiling when I was acting as Master Electrician. Now, I have a crippling fear of yellow insulation.

HR rep: Have you ever had a fellow employee who was difficult to work with?

Actor: Psh, I told you I'm an actor, right?

HR rep: Tell me about a time you've provided exemplary service to a customer.

Actor: This lady collapsed in the audience during Brighton Beach Memoirs. I was able to get the paramedics to carry her out and resuscitate her without disrupting Eugene's monologue.

HR rep: What is the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life?

Actor: In my life? Is that really the question on the paper? Isn't that kind of personal? Hardest decision IN MY LIFE?

HR rep: Yes

Actor: Color or Black and White.

HR rep: What?

Actor: Headshots.

HR rep: I see. I think we're going to hire internally for this position.

Actor: Yeah, you probably should.

#53: The city that never sleeps, because then you'd never get seen at an EPA

Arriving early for an Equity call in NYC is like waiting to meet Hall & Oates after their concert: there's no real point and you'll probably end up waiting in a tiny room with a lot of nut jobs. The difference, of course, is that with Hall and Oates, you are the youngest, most attractive person there; whereas at large auditions, you feel like a troll who had to beg her troll friends to vote for her for homecoming queen at Troll High School (It's actually a magnet school. Really the only difference is that these trolls wear uniforms.)

As I arrived at this undisclosed location, I saw the doors were not yet opened. A line of about 70 actors had formed and was curling around the room. "Like a spiral!" one man said. "Like a deadly viper," I corrected. Everyone was reading Backstage, applying make-up, sitting on their backpacks, lounging on the floor...it was like we were part of some project to beautify homeless people (Pimp my hobo?)

An older woman in front of me turned:

Woman: Are you here for the Northern Lights?

Me: You mean, Northern Stage?

Woman: Yes, Northern Lights!

Me: Yes, I will be performing for the Aurora Borealis. They're doing Balto: The musical.

The rest of the day went as expected, lots of shuffling from room to room, listening to a 50 year old man beg a 20 year old man for a role in Jersey Boys...even though he didn't know what that musical is about. I watched 7 trillion audition dresses going by (one made entirely of blue sequins and sparkle eyelets) , stopping only to tell the girl in the leotard and glitterific eyeshadow that she was probably looking for the Disney dance call...not Steel Magnolias. Another older woman pulled me aside:

Woman: What should I sing?

Me: Well, what show are you going for?

Woman: What are they doing?

Me: Wizard of Oz and Joseph.

Woman: What is Wizard of Oz? I'm not familiar.

Me:...well, you'd probably do better with a classic or standard musical theatre piece, over contemporary.

Woman:...so, like a character piece!

Me:...well...

Woman: How bout gypsy!

Me: Perfect.

At 4 pm, I was released without being seen. Part of me wanted to shake the teenagers waiting eagerly waiting for their musical theatre class and yell "Run! There's still time! Save yourselves!" But at the end of the day, there's no business that I love better. And THAT is why I live in Philadelphia.

"Donna: You want this waffle?
Me: Sure!
Donna: You want strawberries on it?
Me: Yeah!
Donna: Get it yourself!"~God I love Maine!

There is no quiet car on the Megabus

A conversation in the back right corner of a DC Megabus

Twit #1: Is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Twit #2: Huh?

Twit #1: I mean, there's Annapolis. So, is Minneapolis a small Annapolis?

Twit #3: You're thinking of Indianapolis. That's in Indiana.

Twit #4: There's an Annapolis in Indiana?

Twit #1: There IS an Indianapolis, but I'm talking about Mini-Annapolis.

Twit #2: Mom, is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Chaperone:...Yes.

If the Long Island Cheerleading team didn't perform so well in DC, it's because I broke all of their legs.

My brother's blackberry during a two hour Baccalaureate Mass:

To: God
Sub: Mass
Message: Please make this end. Thank you.

Week 10: Will Work for Chocolates

Well, the gates of the Wonka Factory are finally closed once more. Let's take a look at what we've accomplished in the the past three months.

1. We managed to lock ourselves out of the company car, while it was still running
2. We performed in the Circus Capital of the nation.
3. We survived a night at the Robin Hood Motel.
4. We knocked a hole in the trailer in the middle of Montana.
5. We shake-weighted across the west coast.
6. We dipped our toes in the Pacific.
7. We got the seatbelt fixed! Only to have it break again...a week later.
8. We performed at the same theatre as Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald.
9. We became the non-equity Cabaret tour's ugly stepsister.
10. We went to the world's biggest fish fry in Tennessee.
11. We were surrounded by angels, unicorns, and fairies and other upsetting chachka in Sugar Loaf.

And at the end of it all, we can all confidently say, we tried as hard as we wanted to.

"This sucks. If only there was a Ruby Tuesdays"
"There IS a Ruby Tuesdays!"~Craig and I and exactly what we wanted on Cinco de Mayo.

Week 9: Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike

I dove headfirst onto the NJ transit train in NYC. I walked through the near empty train cars until I found a group of loyal employees congregating outside the train. I smiled my best “I’m clearly not from around here, could any of you fine gentleman help a girl out” smile and asked “Is this the train to Newark International?” Sizing me up in my Phillies t-shirt, one of the young men popped a piece of gum in his mouth. Orbit, if I’m not mistaken. “Yup,” he said. I kept my smile plastered on, “Thanks so much, ‘preciate it”. I flopped into my seat, embarrassed from already hopping on the wrong train once, and feeling oddly comforted by the tacky wood paneling and brown vinyl seats that is NJ Transit's signature. As the train pulled from the station my gum-chewing friend approached and took my ticket. I smiled—this time a small, tired “I’m a country gal exhausted from travelling in the bright lights of the big city” smile. It worked. “Newark airport, right? Third stop,” he said sympathetically, choosing not to notice that my ticket was expired or that I had rested my feet (black fiips flops, chipped hot pink nail polish) rudely on the seat in front of me. I find a good smile can do wonders on public transportation; especially after having a fifteen minute conversation with the cab driver over the difference between New York and Philadelphia cab drivers (While I have an inherent love of Philadelphia cab drivers, they do disconnect their meters far more than New Yorkers).

And then I was alone. I looked to my left, where sat my grey backpack. I’ve been wearing far too much grey lately, considering it’s not my color (although, who does grey really belong to?), but I examined it’s sturdy exterior. There’s a small tear from the place where I always keep my hairbrush and a small dent is visible from when I put my pack to close to a very hot make-up light in a dressing room in California. My Sigg bottle protrudes from the side, a constant and reliable companion that could never know how my heart breaks every time I am neglectful and it leaves me, only to return to me after several hours or days, willing to give me another chance. But besides the newscasters staring down at my from a Fox news ad ("Get to know us personally!" It said. No, thank you.), I am alone. There’s a certain calm in that. That you and your backpack could ride to the end of the line and take off. Of course you won’t. You have responsibilities and people who depend on you…but still the option is there. At the end of my trip, I sit at the parking station waiting for the shuttle. A station employee approaches at my right and asks “Where ya goin?” “Home,” I answer, more out of defense and instict than truth. “Where’s that?” He asks. I breath in the premature summer air and smell the rain as it wraps around my heart, slowing it’s ever accelerated beat to a calmer clip and smile to myself this time as I say, “Anywhere."

Sage: "Yvette, you ate chicken the other day! So you're only a vegetarian when you choose to be!"
Yvette: "That's right"
Me: "Isn't America wonderful?"~teaching children patriotism.

Week #7: Charlie and the Series of Jokes that Aren't Funny

Returning from my hiatus, I arrive at the hotel in Newark.

Concierge: May I help you?

Me: Hi, checking in under Burke.

Concierge: I don't see it.

Me: Maybe it's under Spanelli?

Concierge: Nick?

Me: That's it!

Concierge:...but I don't know who you are.

Me: I'm Kristen Burke, I'm with the touring company that the keys are saved under. Signstage? Windwood?

Concierge: I mean, I have it here. But I mean...who ARE you?

Me:...still Kristen.

He then shrugged and literally tossed the key at me. What ever to those friendly singing bellhops from the 40's.

Shows are more fun when you have "Bros" working back stage. "Bros" are young men who travel in bands much like the ancient Inuits, except instead of seal skin coats, they wear fraternity sweatshirts and khaki shorts. They're language style is as thus:

Me: So, you all go to Frostburgh State?

Bros: Yeah

Me: A good friend of mine went there--

Bro #1: She sounds AWESOME!

Me: Yes...yes she is.

Finally, you know you're in Florida when the business men come to breakfast in khakis and flip-flops and the women wear pastel pink plaid shorts and insist that the housekeeping staff try the soy milk she demanded, while these women nod patronizingly and return to their coffee.

Take two and never call me again

Doctor: Loss of appetite, fatigue, headaches... Kristen, it looks like you're just REALLY tired. What's your normal sleep schedule?

Me: My what?

Doctor: Your normal sleep schedule?

Me: I don't understand.

Doctor: Well...explain to me your sleep patterns of the last week.

Me: Well, after losing an hour for daylight's savings time on tour, I was up all night thanks to a beeping fire alarm and some people yelling in Spanish by my door, I tried to sleep in the van but the only way to sleep is to curl yourself up around your backpack kind of like that blue painting of that guy curled around the guitar, you know which one I mean? I think it was Picasso? I dunno, I'm bad with art. So the next night I almost got some sleep but my roommate was running in from the laundry mat at 2 am which was actually just some sort of late night party shop that let her IN to the local laundry mat to wash our costumes. And then I could've slept through the next night, but there was a small earthquake. I mean I didn't really feel it, but Mark did. Do you think Deaf people are more prone to feel earthquakes? Something to look into. Anyway, our producers overbooked us, so we got to the next hotel at 2 am and had to be up at 6 am. They gave us an hour to nap in between shows, but my roommate lost her key and then the laundry had to be done the next morning at 7 am and I tried to sleep on the plane but the jet lag was terrible as was that awful DeNiro movie "Everybody's Fine" which made me want to cry infront of a planeful of strangers and that pretty much brings us up to now.

Doctor:....I think what you have is severe exhaustion.

Me: I think what I have is a career in the arts.

Scenes from a Philadelphia changing room.

Shopping in Philadelphia during spring break is like running with wildebeests in a stampede, except you're trying to go the opposite direction. Here are some conversations I heard during my much needed retail therapy:

Girl #1: That ain't a dress
Girl #2: Yes, it is!
Girl#1: No, it ain't! That's a shirt!
Girl #2: Ma'am, is this a dress?
Stranger: Yeah.
Girl #1: Aight, but you bend over and people gonna see yo' business.
Girl#2: Well ya know what? Rise and shine! And you can't wear that-you look like an oompa loompa.

And from the Express in Liberty Place.

Girl #1: Linda! Where's the baby?

I'd like to take a moment of silence for my Phillies cap. Though you were free, given to me by a snotty bride back in my awful catering days, I treasured you as if you were worth all the tacky center pieces and left over pastries I was allowed to bring home from the National Constitution Center. I hope wherever you are in the continental United States, someone is wearing you with pride, ready for opening day.

Someone also kicked my suitcase two minutes after I landed in Philly...and I smiled. I love this town.

"I'll leave you with the tv- America's nightlight."~KS

Week 5

Touring across the country is a roller coaster of experiences as you drive the fine line between heaven and hell:

Heaven is a capable local crew who calls out line weights in some kind of glorious yet familiar herald, hell is a 90 pound girl and a tech director with some kind of growth that is preventing him from lifting anything.

Heaven is hot tub, cocktails, and pizza under the stars, hell is the frozen outdoor pool in a motel named after mythological English heros.

Heaven is 2$ Microbrews in Billings, Montana, hell is being stuck for 4 hours because the woman who moved the trailer so it wouldn't be towed also knocked a hole in it by driving under an overhang.

Heaven is local hangouts, BBQ's in Portland, and free lunches, hell is the Dude Rancher Lodge....which is exactly what it sounds like.

Heaven is sleep number matresses and pillows with varying firmness, hell is messy bathrooms, scratchy sheets, a fire alarm that beeps for 6 hours and a group of people and their prostitutes hanging out outside your door at 4 am so that instead of sleeping you end up watching Donnie Darko on MTV during the wee hours*

And at the end of the day, your worst day doing what you love is still better than your worst day doing what you don't. So make your peace with it!

"All Deaf people must wear mittens."~ML on sensitivity in the workplace.

*Disclaimer: Donnie Darko is still an awesome movie, though.