Montreal: City of Design

Old Anglican church on Côte des Neiges-
the peeling of the bells can still be heard throughout the community

The people at UNESCO have announced what all of Canada has known for so long. Montreal is a uniquely beautiful city. As celebrations for the 40th anniversary of Expo 67 kick off, Montreal was officially declared a UNESCO City of Design, along with Berlin and Buenos Aires. With summer upon us, I've promised myself to really appreciate what we have here. Despite having spent last summer immersed in a different culture and language, the summer came and went without my usual summer activities. Seoul being a rather concrete city, my summer lacked lazing about on the grass and listening to the drums at the tam-tams. This summer I have decided to do my best to record the beautiful city I live in, and remember how it blew me away when I first moved here.

The politics of Montreal are inescapable.

I have also come to the realization that I am quite detached from the Montreal theatre community. When first I arrived in Montreal, I was launched smack into the middle of the mess that is the anglo theatre scene, but as I distanced myself from the Fringe Festival and other grassroots events, I've lost touch. This, of course, makes it difficult when I am occasionally hit by a stroke of genius and realize that everyone I know in theatre has made the move to Toronto (damn you, Toronto!!). So last night Fred and I hopped on the Metro to St-Laurent & Ste-Catherine (the sketchiest corner in the city) and strolled as quickly as we could to Théâtre Ste-Catherine. The theatre was bought by a young Calgarian who moved to Montreal around the same time I did. Though it doesn't yet have the same feel as Calgary's Loose Moose Theatre, it's a start. A few of the actors are imports from the Loose Moose and trained with Keith Johnstone- the god of the improv. world. Some of the skits were good, others were bad, but it didn't really matter. The audience was more engaged and more involved than I've seen in a theatre in a long time. Best of all, it inspired to get my ass back into the theater.

The End of Stability

I sit at a café on St-Catherine Street- coffee in hand, and watch those passing by the open door. A cool breeze wafts in, mellowing the overpowering stench of perfume that is overtaking my nostrils- assuring me that spring has once again arrived in Montreal. Skeptical Montrealers leave the house in winter jackets, with gloves and tuques- fearful the weather is trying to trick us once again. Hopefuls take to the city's terraces and convince themselves that outdoor beer is here to stay. The bike lanes are open, and rollerbladers far braver than I are taking to the streets to enjoy every moment of sun. The city's notorious pot hole problem/collapsing streets make rollerblading unthinkable for those of us with a brain in our heads.

I awoke this morning at 8:00am, having promised my grade six class that I would come and see their fashion show presentation. I took the bus over the mountain and looked forward to othe long walk from the bus stop to the school. The bus dropped me off at Parc Lafontaine and I made my way through the hoards of cyclists, rollerbladers and strollers till finally I reached the school. It was my last day at l'École St-Joseph. The teacher has returned from sick leave, leaving me to contemplate, once again, where I'm headed. At the moment, I am relishing in my return to unemployment. Montreal is the best city in Canada in which to be unemployed, and there is no better time than the summer.

As the last week in this teaching position drew to a close, I'm suffering from very mixed feelings- as I so often do. On the one hand, I quite like having money in the bank and not worrying about what magic tricks I'll need to pull off to pay all my bills. On the other hand, I fear that such stability is sending me in the exact opposite direction of where I would like to be. You have probably noticed that my posts have become few and far between since mid-February, for a few reasons. For one, working forty hours a week is quite exhausting and has killed any creative impulses I once had. Secondly, the reality of teaching in Canada seems to mean never seeing an end to the work on your desk. I'm not a fan. This may be the most I've ever made, but it isn't very good. I can't imagine what sort of insane person would spend another two years in school to obtain an education degree (that cannot be used outside of Quebec) to make 35,000$/year, with poor benefits and be considered, by the children and their parents, to be a glorified babysitter. I'm so glad that I had the opportunity to see the reality of the profession in Canada before I was tempted by the promise of summers off. Schools have changed. The older teachers predictably discuss each day the differences between my generation and this one in the classroom. They fear the coming of age of these students, many hoping they won't be around to see them children in their adult years.

This experience was invaluable. I realized that I am far too impatient with nonsense and excuses to teach children for a living. I just don't care enough. You didn't do your homework? Whatever, your loss, not mine. English is useless, you say? Okay, sure. You're off to a great start in life. Call me in ten years when you want to work in Toronto. In any case, all this chasing children around and pretending to care wore me out and distracted me from what I would rather be doing- writing and acting. Worse than distracting me, the experience drained me. When I was teaching in Korea, I was exhausted from listening so carefully to everything being said and trying to make sense of it. From reading very slowly aloud every message on the photocopier, hoping that eventually I would understand why it wasn't working. From bouncing kids on my knee and being poked in the eye with little fingers. Teaching here is exhausting because of the atrocious amount of work. It's never ending. And like I said, draining.

So I have the summer to contemplate. The Commision Scolaire de Montréal is still anxiously awaiting the scores from my French test so they can hire me on full time for next year. I've come to terms with the fact that my procrastination is based in fear and I'm going to register for an online refresher course in French grammar, which will do me good. My agent has been put on alert to find me some good work for this summer, and I'm awaiting the announcement of next season's auditions at the English theatres. I snapped last week after another health scare with Fred and bought myself my expensive, over-priced yoga pass. I decided if there was anything that could take my mind off the upcoming transplant for an hour and a half a day, it was well worth the money. Today will be day six of my Bikram routine and I'm loving it. I feel amazingly healthy and my winter tummy is quickly melting away- or should I say thankfully. I'm off to yoga class and promise to be more active in my posts. It would also help if my computer would stop trying to speak to me in Korean- which looks very little like Korean and a lot like this ?????????????????????????????????????????????. There's nothing more obnoxious than having every button and tab on a web page full of question marks. Hopefully the next post will also be more direct, as we say in theatre. I struggle with being shockingly indirect, for which I blame the ADD. But summer is the time for ADD and summer is very, very close. I plan on spending an obsene amount of time under a tree reading a book.

This was the biggest patch of grass I found last summer in Seoul... It was not a comfortable place to read a book.

A Dramatic Night Out

Alex & I- I'm going on three hours of sleep after a night of noribong and eight hours of rehearsal... Alex just came back from Thailand, making me look even whiter than usual.

I was nine when I moved to Calgary and the school year had already started, and though I was excited to move to a big city, I was scared to make new friends. I was terrified my first day at St Gerard school. I wondered if the kids would like me, would they be different from small city kids? Would the teachers like me? Of course my fears were unfounded. I soon made friends despite the fact that even at nine I was a know it all. The friends I made were, of course, very much like me. We enjoyed the same stupid games, and coasted our way through school. We were smart, and quiet- a combination teachers love. I've lost touch with most of my friends from elementary school, but Alex and Thelma remain close friends. We've gone years without seeing each other, but it always seems we're on the same page when we do. We live in different parts of Canada, and currently all three of us are overseas, in different countries. Somehow it works though. In high school, we started drifting apart. We all went to different high schools, Alex and I in Calgary, and Thelma in Ottawa. Alex and I had very different friends, but when we met up, it seemed we were getting into the same sort of trouble. My talks with Thelma were few and far between, but it seemed she was in the same place as Alex and I. As high school drew to a close, Alex and I began to make plans to move in together. And our prodigal friend returned from Ottawa.

Our favourite pre-show warm-up; Catch with glow-in-the-dark balls.

In Junior High, Alex, Thelma and I had been partners in our home ec class. We soon learned that not one of us had any sort of abilities in the kitchen. Our first task was to make a smoothie with egg and cinnamon and some other spices. Sounds easy enough, I'm sure. All three of us managed to misread the instructions, so there was a tablespoon of nutmeg instead of a teaspoon. It was disgusting, but we drank it anyway- hoping our mistake would not be uncovered. An argument ensued afterwards about who would do the dishes - all of us of course, had been spoiled by dishwashers, and not up for doing things the old fashioned way. The next class, our teacher guided us into a more difficult project. We were nervous, seeing as how we didn't exactly master the first one. Pigs in a blanket. We took great care to make sure that all of our measurements were right. We slid the tray into the oven and cleaned up as we waited for them to bake. We again argued about who would do the dishes. Twenty minutes later, we peaked into the oven to see how the pigs were coming. They looked the same. We closed the door and left them in another ten minutes. Then we checked again. Their blankets were not even the slightest bit brown, in fact, not even the cheese was melted. It was then that we realized we hadn't turned the oven on. We finished off the semester by burning our final project, if I remember correctly.

September 1st 1998, Alex and I moved in together- some five years after our home ec incidents. We moved into an empty apartment, excited to have our first home independant of our parents. We hadn't planned ahead. We had saved up enough to account for bills and rent, but not for furniture or kitchen things. We ordered KFC that night, and realized we didn't have any cups or plates. We made an emergency run to Walmart and returned home with the basics. But still something was missing. Furniture. We looked around our apartment, empty but for a few knick knacks. Luckily, friends and family donated many of the missing items. Andrea's grandmother gave us a kitchen table, a bed, end tables and a cool green lamp that I still have. Alex's family gave us some dishes and my dad contributed a TV. Alex's boyfriend bought us a purple, inflatable couch. We were always tempted to fill the couch with water and get some fish, but neither of us liked the idea of fish staring at our butts. Despite our strict rules for the couch (no keys, no coffee), it soon popped - leaving us couchless. Fortunately a friend soon came through with one that his family had deemed too ugly to keep- even in their basement.

Totally unrelated to tales of old friends- our article from the Korea Times- that's me way up high on the chair.

It was immediately obvious that neither of us had gained any skill in the kitchen since our days in home ec. Our trips to the grocery store involved the purchases of processed, micro-waveable foods, ice cream and cheesecake. Our bills and rent were never late, but when we finally got around to the dishes, it usually took a few hours. We bought new clothes instead of bothering with laundry. The apartment was in a constant state of disaster. But it was a good and easy year. When you've known someone eleven years, there are few surprises- even if it's the first time you've lived together.

Alex and I have always been perpetually in relationships. While Alex has had several (in my opinion) long relationships, I've repeated the same short-lived mistakes again and again. This year was no exception, and our individual relationship habits stood out more than usual, contrasted against each other. I hated her new boyfriend, and she hated my old one (yet new again).

The year drew to a close, and our lease nearly up, Alex packed her things and moved to BC for school. My ex-boyfriend (see, repetitive mistakes) moved in for the remainder of the lease and my stories with crazy roomates soon began. I didn't realize how much things would change until afterwards. Alex and I have drifted at points, then found each other again. For awhile, she would come back to Calgary at Christmas. Then I moved to Montreal, and we were never home at the same time. When Alex arrived in Seoul last month, it was the first time we'd seen each other in five years. What's alarming is how much we've both changed, yet somehow we're still on the same page. We've both fought our seperate battles, graduated from different programs, fallen into different groups of friends. We've travelled. We've fallen in and out of relationships- and right back in again. Suddenly it seemed the tables had turned. Alex arrived in Seoul describing her trip to Thailand with her old (yet new) boyfriend- reemerged from our Calgary days. I contemplated how strange it was that I had been with Fred nearly four years and Alex had still not met him. After Alex left, I looked around the apartment at the mess that surrounded me. The past eight months in Korea have turned me into somewhat of a clean freak when it comes to my apartment- though it seems that I quite readily returned to my old ways with Alex there. Clothes and towels strung about all over the apartment- a sink overflowing with dishes (some even appeared to be growing legs and walking out on their own) and an empty fridge. Alll reminders that some things never change. My stove had not been turned on all week- except to make coffee.

As I think about friendship, it shocks me how many people have come and gone from my life that I was once close with, but now have no idea where they are or what they're doing. I've heard rumors of big moves, of marriage and babies but I can't tell the truth from stories at this point. Important people seem to creep into your life and stay through a string of odd circumstances. Many of my close friends could have fallen to the sidelines if any number of variables had turned out differently. At our cast party last night, we celebrated the end of our two week run with dinner and drinks. Keeping with tradition, the party was quite dramatic. To begin with, it seems that I was once again overly critical of the show- or I'm entirely too pretentious to appreciate theatre that can actually be understood by an audience... one or the other. The audiences loved the show and we received a good deal of media attention. We were written up three times in the paper (once with photo on front page) and were interviewed for our talk show on KBS online. This'll teach you never to listen to my opinion about a show I'm in.

From Left- Emily, Ed, Steven, Sean, Me and Mackenzie

In any case, our producers, Jono and Anthony treated us to dinner and paid for the first round of drinks at a bar in Little America. They invited us to come to Hongdae with them, where they had met DJs at a club and could get everyone in free. My director, Krista shot them down. She was determined to stay in Little America (selfishly, in my opinion because that is where she happens to live). We picked up and moved to a bar down the street. All was well until they rolled in the TV to show the England vs Portugal game. While all of us- save one, settled down and began watching the game with interest- Krista tapped us on the shoulder. We're going, she said. Apparently when one spends a hundred dollars on a dress, one cannot watch soccer in said dress. I'd criticize but what the hell do I know about the rules for dresses? Anyway, Jono stayed behind determined to watch the game. And then we were ten -we moved on. Anthony found a small nightclub with live music, and as we made our way down the stairs we were again tapped by the almighty director. The cast had yet to spend a dime, but she thought 10$ cover was too much. We moved on, losing Anthony and Ryan to the game. Two of my cast members who recently started dating picked up and left- they were having their first fight.

Krista & Sean- playing with sand from the floor
of The Bungalow at the cast party...

Moving from bar to bar, we found ourselves at a cheezy night club called Polly's Kettle. The bar serves 'kettles' (kool-aid with a shot of soju) in two liter bottles with the top cut off. Classy place. It being Canada Day, I was quite happy that I was not presently up to my ears in boxes and could take in the Canadian music blasting from the speakers. As 'Home for A Rest' started, the confused Americans cleared the way and all the Canadians took to the dance floor. Our honorary Canadians, Mackenzie and Sean put in a good effort, in spite looking a little confused by the madness that surrounded them. Krista and Sean (her boyfriend and my cast mate) got into a fight about something or other and both soon vanished from the bar- leaving Mackenzie and I with our Stage Manager, Craig. It always amazes me how ridiculous actors are within our artificial world. During rehearsals- the show seems to invade every aspect of life- it's all you do and all you think about. Hours of each day are spent lost in thought about themes and characters and relationships. We lose ourselves in the world. We become confused. Where does fantasy end and reality begin? Sometimes it's hard to tell. Your relationships as actors come to mirror the relationships of your characters. The dynamic of each cast was so completely different. The first show was called 'This Is A Play" and poked fun at actors and the world of theatre. It dealt with different types of actors- and funny enough two of the three actors were somewhat like the characters they portrayed onstage. The onstage love/hate relationships mirrored the offstage love/hate relationships. With our show, Krista took care to ensure that there my character would not flirt or have any sort of intimate moments with her boyfriend's character- despite the fact that it left the play unbalanced. This again, mirrored in our personal relationship- or lack thereof. As our party got smaller and smaller with the demands of our ring leader, it got me thinking about friendship. For three months, Ed, Sean and I were so much apart of each others lives and thoughts- yet like the show itself, once the lights go down and the set is symbolically torn apart, the relationships made quickly become faded memories. We only existed to each other for a few short months and when Ed stops being Frank, and Sean stops being Bill- it's all over. If ever we meet again, we'll feel like strangers. Like every other show I've done, promises to keep in touch and nearly tearful good-byes were exchanged, but more admirable were those who could be honest. "I'll never see you again. So good-bye and take care." At least someone brought a little truth to the party with them last night. Like all real relationships, theatre has made me experience quite possibly every human emotion- both onstage and off. There are things I love and things I hate about it. As I contemplate my posting from a few weeks back about the show and the frustration expressed, I have to remind myself that I've always hated the rehearsal process. That it never feels real or complete until opening night. That my quest for perfection in my work is all in vain. No matter how much I grow as an actor and consequently as a person, there will still be room for more growth. Those who knew me in my pre-Fred days (oh-so long ago) know well of my absolute fear of commitment. As terrifying as I find it to commit to a person, it is equally terrifying for me to commit to theatre. Committing means that I've grown up- that I've made a choice. That despite all the hardships that I'll take it, for better or for worse- frustrating directors, painfully challenging roles, long periods of unemployment, lack of control over success or failure, instability- that I'll take it all that for those moments on stage where I feel lost in it. It's been eleven years now since I was first introduced to theatre- eleven years since our first encounter and I wonder if it's time to commit or time to jump ship. Like always, the end of a show leaves me with more and more questions... just when I started to think that I'd put the whole thing to rest.

Playing Dead -
I spent the first ten minutes of the play under the sheet hoping not to pass out with the lights shining down on me and cursing the broken air conditioner...

Never Swim Alone

Dress Rehearsal - Never Swim Alone
Sean (Bill), Me (Ref), Ed (Frank)

It has officially been one year since I've been on stage, and I'm struggling to figure out how I feel about it. After Our Country's Good closed, I was unsure as to where I was headed with theatre, and recent experiences have only confused me further. Months ago I auditioned for a role with a foreigner's theatre company and was cast. The play is called Never Swim Alone, by Canadian playwright Daniel MacIvor. I was excited to be rehearsing again. It had been so long that I felt I was starting to lose my mind. I was excited because it would be my first production after graduating. I was excited because the role presented alot of challenges for me, but I was confident I could do it. I sat myself down a good while ago and had a long talk with my bad actor head and convinced her that since I had never failed at anything, she may as well stop telling me I would fail at this. I was excited to get on stage and start working, with this newfound enthusiasm and trust in my abilities. Unfortunately the periods of 'bad actor syndrome' come with the territory. There are few actors, or artists in any form- who haven't doubted their skills, their impulses or their creativity. It's not unique to me, but it's difficult to explain that to my bad actor head when she rears her ugly... head.

Swimming, swimming on the hard wood stage

Round 9: Power Lunch

At any rate, I have spent my week-ends for the last couple months at rehearsal for the show. There are two other actors, both men, both American. They seem very much alike, but they are not. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for my enthusiasm to fade away. I've become accustomed to a certain level of professionalism, it would seem. I have become accustomed to working with people who guide and coax you- help you to understand your role and the play. But here I found myself on my own. The director, Krista, greeted my questions with glares and disapproving looks. Or she'd simply read me the line again and again, as though simply hearing it repeated in an odd, shrill monotone would inspire my imagination. As though it weren't her job as the director to have some sort of vision and understanding of the play. And I still don't understand what is meant by "Act more like a 14 year old!" Do all fourteen year olds act the same? But I digress. I found myself frustrated. Or should I say find. I've managed to make sense of the play for myself- I probably couldn't articulate to someone else how I view my character, but she's there. As much as I've tried to work through the frustrations, some things stand in my way of working. I didn't have my props and set pieces until today- the dress rehearsal. I didn't have my costume- a bathing suit- until last week. But Krista seemed shocked when I said that having these elements made me feel as though I could start working. I'd become frustrated with the part, and with myself after weeks of stagnant rehearsals.

Moi- Sitting on my throne awaiting the beginning of rehearsal.

The play opens on Thursday and I feel like I've only had three real rehearsals and a lot of wasted week-ends. I am frustrated to the point that I don't have anything to say to the director, or the other actors. My bad actor head is coming back, with opening night looming only four days away. I have the first line of the play- and that scares me. Usually opening night I'm frozen with fear for my first five minutes on stage, this time I won't be easing myself in. And I wonder- why do I put myself through this? Why did I spend four years in school, mostly frustrated with the other students and the profs? Why do I continue to push myself to do this? I feel as though I should pack it in and end this sillyness now before it becomes a long, frustrating career... but then I know I've said that after every show. What is it about this work that makes me want to come back? All actors have different reasons for being on stage, and many are there because it's a guaranteed way of getting attention. For me, I appreciate that it helps me grow as a person- in each role I'm challenged to look at myself and see for real, who I am. But is this enough to keep me in a line of work that means committing to a life of poverty? Does it mean working alongside people like Krista for the duration of my career? Krista, who seems to believe that I am who I am for no other reason than to make her angry. If anyone is wondering why my parents thought ahead and sent me to French school, it was so that Krista would become embarrased and accuse me of showing off when she demonstrated for her boyfriend how poorly she could speak French. And therein lies the real issue- I am fairly sure that the immaturity surrounding our relationship stems from insecurity around her relationship to her boyfriend. She's afraid I'm going to steal him away. Hide him in my sock drawer, shelter his ears from her shrill voice and horrid Edmontonian accent, and then toss him back into her ginormous hands once I've finished with him. Women hate other women for so many reasons, and it usually has little to do with who they are, and more to do with the way they look. And so I've been labelled a threat- painted across my forehead and treated with disdain because of the imagined possibility that I might suddenly realize (after four years) that I do not in fact love Fred, but it is our migguk friend Sean who is the object of my affection. Please (she says with dripping sarcasm). The ridiculousness of the situation frustrates me to the point that I have difficulty speaking when she's around. My head fumes as I overhear her trying to show me up in this contest that I won long ago, simply by not competing. Or feeling the need to.

Me, Sean and Ed- Cast of Never Swim Alone

Our space - Kkamang Theatre in Hyehwa, Seoul

The only source of sanity and encouragement that I have had in this process has come from the actors and director of the other show that will go up just before us. I've had more useful direction and advise from Craig, and our brief talks about the play have helped me to make sense of the script in some way. He is the sort of director that is insightful and easy to work with, professional and laid back. It's too bad we didn't really get to work together. As a side, I have to credit him for the photos, they're stolen off his blog...

The show will open on Thursday, with one show Friday, two on Saturday and two on Sunday. Same thing the following week. I hope to find in these performances the reasons that I fell in love with theatre. One of the best profs I had at Concordia used to say that theatre was like a drug- in the beginning you get really high no matter what, but as time goes on, it takes more and more to satisfy you. And it's true. I have come to expect more of myself and from the productions I'm involved in, but it seems that my greatest asset can also be my greatest hindrance. I'm smart. I read the play and I understand it- I pick up quickly on the subtleties of the text, but when others fail to do the same- it infuriates me. Is this perhaps another challenge that theatre presents to me? Finding in myself the patience to accept that everyone is at a different place and needs to work in different ways? Or is it time to call it quits and head back to school, aiming to work in a field that I feel less passionately about? Is it time that I realize what I want and why? Time to settle on a direction, instead of sitting on the fence? Once again, applications are now being accepted for the role of official decision maker. Please include with your application examples of suggestions that you would make should you be engaged in this position. Thank you. Wish me Merde!