The Avocado and Me

Theatre is a lot like traveling. You stay at this really cute B&B for a month, and just as you're growing familiar with the room, learning your way around the city, just as the local barista is starting to remember your order (grande latte, extra foam), you blink - and it's time to leave. Fin. In the world of live theatre, the sequence goes more or less like this: For several weeks, you slog away with about twenty other people, memorizing lines, delving into characters, building sets. Your weeks of work culminate in two or three days: a couple of night shows, a couple of matinees, and then it is over. De-construct the set, return to a normal sleep schedule, and it's done. Of course, you still see each other in the hallways. You smile when you pass. But it isn't the same. This is both the most beautiful and the most sad part of the performing arts. In the second grade, I read Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo. In the book, the characters eat these ha

February 2020 was (is... I know this post is a little early...) one of the busiest months of my life. According to my Little Women  calendar, out of the twenty-nine days, I've had something relatively important on twenty of them. In the little bubble that is the world of performing arts, I've had five bruises from wacking my metal shield against my leg, four auditions, two call backs, three performances, and one day devoted to battle choreography. It's been a time. Lots of beautiful things happened this month. I babysat a bookish one-year-old. Some of his favorite baby books are about quantum physics, others are in Spanish, and there's a bit of Arabic mixed in. He is going to be a brilliant boy, I can already tell. I, myself, have read six books, none of which were about quantum physics. The Black History Month presentations during lunch at my school have been so full of hope. It's so important to learn about other cultures, the injustices they've suffered,

It's the week of Valentine's Day and love is in the air and so is commercialism. There are teddy bears bigger than me at the grocery store, carnations galore, and Nat King Cole's L-O-V-E is practically floating out of the choir room. Also, my book of the week is a cheesy rom-com. Gotta love a cheesy rom-com. In the spirit of this, my least favorite holiday, I've asked people the following question: When have you felt most loved?   Through a cacophony of "gosh, that's a hard question"s, and "can I get back to you on that"s and "what would you say"s, I received a beautiful collection of honest answers. Thank you to everyone who participated; I hope you're feeling loved today. Here's what my oh-so-lovely interviewees said.  Billeigh K. "In Germany, a lady came up to me and hugged me. It was so sweet." Erica L. "On my wedding day." Josh O. "After my last break-up...I was crushed. But my f

A few evenings ago, instead of studying for my math test, I watched a movie. 2016's Arrival , starring Amy Adams and Jeremy Renner. My time management is on point , ladies and gentlemen. In the film is a quote that strikes me deeply every time. "If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change things?" Arrival  is one of those fantastic pieces that keeps you thinking hours after it ends. You think about the story and the characters, naturally, but then you also think about the progression of time. You think about decisions and free will and love. It forces you to think about your life. And it is scary to think about life, reader, because despite what we want, despite what we achieve, or how tightly we hold on, we know exactly how it will end. We don't know the means of the end, perhaps, but we are all very aware of death. Thinking about life makes you feel extraordinarily mortal. You are finite, your experiences are finite, your loves ar