Happy Birthday, Patrick Stewart.

     I would like to take this post in Bad Shakespeare would like to wish a most excellent Happy Birthday to one of my personal heroes and owner of the best voice in the world, Patrick Stewart.

    You all remember Patrick Stewart of Star Trek fame. (Don’t pretend you don’t. Most of you instinctively said, “make it so” as soon as you saw his name.) I won’t pretend that I wasn’t introduced to Mr. Stewart (Can I all him Patrick? I’m going to call him Patrick.) through the world of Star Trek, but it was Patrick Stewart who also helped introduce me to the world of Shakespeare.

    My favorite story of Shakespeare and Patrick Stewart actually comes through a story of impossibility. One role that Patrick wanted to play was that of Othello. You all know Othello, one of the most famous parts ever written... for a black actor. Normally I’m all for colorblind casting (what does it matter if someone can act) but part of the story actually involves the racist reaction to the Moor of Venice. (Or not. You can interpret it in a few different ways, but... you know, this is a Patrick Stewart tribute, so I’m going to move on and analyze Othello another day.) Anyway, Patrick was told repeatedly he couldn’t do the part because he was white. One day he went to Michael Kahn (NOT the guy who killed Kirk’s son, but the famous director) and told him what he wanted to do. Michael’s response was simple, “Great. Let’s reverse the cast!” And thus Patrick Stewart’s white Othello was born.

    I like this story, because it, along with another one (I’ll share later) is a great reminder that if you want to do something, you should just do it.

    I had the pleasure of meeting Patrick Stewart at a celebration of Michael Kahn’s 25 years at the Shakespeare Theatre last fall. I also had the pleasure of hearing him perform the famous speech from Othello, just before he kills Desdemona, which was a personal dream of mine since I didn't get to see him perform as Othello. (As you can guess, it’s not the most uplifting play.) He couldn’t have been nicer. I’m still not sure what I said, but I’ve been assured by those around me that I didn’t make a fool of myself.

    So, Happy Birthday, Patrick Stewart. Thanks for the gateway to Shakespeare, thanks for the kind words when we met, and thanks for reminding me that no matter how crazy something is, I should just go for it.

The Apologist

                Last time on Bad Shakespeare, I made a comment about one ofour Presidential Candidates. I did so because I am passionate about teaching,and he had made a comment that ran counter to that. To those on the other sideof the aisle I apologize, as I do not intend to turn this into a political blog.I already know the truth about U.S. politics, that all political events arecarefully orchestrated by Adam Sandler for his personal amusement. But if youwere offended, I apologize.

                While I’mat it, here are a few more apologies.

                I wouldlike to apologize to that one couple in Louisville that asked me for directions,and I sent them the wrong way. I’d like to say that I just didn’t want to seemlike a tourist, but I was headed to that same restaurant, and I didn’t want youto get the last table. Wendy’s is a very classy joint.

                Iapologize to Adam Sandler for “blowing up his spot” as the kids don’t say butparents still think they say and telling everyone that he’s responsible for allU.S. politics as he watches from his giant bin of money that he swims in daily,Scrooge McDuck-Style.

                Iapologize to Boy Scout Troop 456. Had I realized that you were camping in thatlocation, I would not have let my pet Bigfoot play there. You do understandthat he needs time out in the open forest to hide so people can take blurrypictures.

                Iapologize to the squirrels that reside on George Mason University. I reallyfelt that if we organized, we could take back the pond from the Canadian Geesethat reside there. No worries, I’m sure we can find some more acorns and FrenchFries before winter, and I have high hopes if we can shore up our numbersbefore Spring of 2013.

                I wishto apologize to Scarlett Johans…. Johannn…. Johanne…. To that chick in theAvengers for sending you all those love letters without being able to spellyour name correctly. I suppose I could look it up on Google, but that is a lotof extra work.

                I wouldlike to apologize to all those who are currently infected with Bieber Fever.Sorry. My bad.

                Lastly,I want to apologize to Steve Martin, who wrote a similar essay in his book, Pure Drivel, which I read, liked, andstole as the format for this essay here. Because I’m mentioning you, this canclassify as an “homage” and not “pure theft.” However, Shakespeare stoleeverything he ever wrote and now he has a line of fishing equipment named afterhim.

                Feels great to get THAT off my chest.

I Will Not Do Presidential Endorsements Unless Threatened By Asteroid

             The blank page. It’s a scary thing, particularly when you are trying to do something like keep up with a blog three times a week. Pulling back the curtain for a minute, sometimes I do have these posts banked for a few weeks at a time. Sometimes, like now, I’ve run out. And with the absence of school, education, or just in general a lot going on with my life, I’m not always sure what to say.

                Oh, yeah, that whole “summer class” thing fell through at the last minute. I’d go through the long boring details, but you don’t want to hear them all. (I didn’t match a few of the perquisites for the class. Hmmm. I guess they weren’t that long or boring. It was more like a statement.) So, I don’t really have adventures in taking a summer course to share with you.

                Because school is out, there’s not much going on in the world of education to really report. One of the Presidential Candidates (His name rhymes with Nitt Nomney.) is calling for less teachers, but this really isn’t a political blog. And in reality I’m not much of a political person. I write in Nicolas Cage each election with the knowledge that if he won, he’d turn down the job because he’d be too good at it. Also there’s not an asteroid headed towards Earth, and actors rarely make good Presidents unless there is a killer asteroid headed towards Earth. (When threatened with an asteroid, vote Morgan Freeman, if Bruce Willis isn't available.) But I’m not really going to get into politics. I may get into the issue of “more or less teachers” at some point.

                My life is devoid of wacky adventures. That’s usually the case after a Mission Trip like I took two weeks ago: I need time to relax and decompress, so I’ve been hiding out, watching old movies, and pretending it’s not 100 degrees out.

                I guess what I’m saying is… enjoy the post today for what it is. Just a brief look into the backstage workings of Bad Shakespeare, Inc. My mind staring at the blank page, trying to think of something to say. Enjoy it. Love it. We’ll focus on more wacky adventures in the upcoming weeks, even if I have to make something up.

      

On A Mission From God: Now With 100% More Alien Squirrels

               The final part of my recap of the weeklong mission trip is a deep exploration of just how a group of aliens could control the mind of a bunch of squirrels to build an unholy army in their quest for world domination. The twist: Elvis Presley is alive and in charge of the whole thing. That sound is all of your minds being blown by this revelation.

                Naw, I just felt that the comedy has been lacking from these posts as I have been discussing some pretty heavy stuff.

                These trips are always weird for me. I always volunteer to go, mainly because I enjoy hanging out with these kids for the week. But inevitably, about two weeks before the trip I panic because I honestly don’t believe that I’m going to be able to help, because there is an element that I don’t think I can provide to the kids (More on that in a moment), and because it’s a week where my schedule is more rigidly controlled than something that is extremely rigidly controlled. (All my metaphors were too offensive. Feel free to make up your own in the comments.)

                The element I don’t think I provide well to the kids (we’re getting heavy again) is the fact that… I don’t really wear my religion on my sleeve. Maybe it’s because I’m still figuring things out myself, but I just don’t believe that we are meant to run around screaming about our faith until we get it worked out. I believe that actions (like not throwing a can of corn at a person who is telling you all about how Gene Roddenberry’s vision of the future didn’t involve a President born in Kenya for the ninth time that day) are more important than words. And I don’t feel that we get that very much at these events. I think sometimes it becomes a race to wear that “John 3:16” shirt, but the focus isn’t as much on working hard and showing your faith that way. I sometimes feel that we can discuss God and His actions without going deeply into the Bible. I think that it’s more important to ACT like a good person than it is to TALK about being a good person. I can talk about anything.

                The kids work hard at these events. But I often feel that the reward sometimes is more church, more discussion of acting like a good person which doesn’t give as much incentive to work harder.  That’s the part I’ve always found it hard to buy into. Oh, I’m always enthusiastic, don’t get me wrong. Except for one point when I twisted my knee, then I was decidedly less enthusiastic about things. (Except ice).

                The thing is, that at the end of the day, I still want to go back. I like helping people. I want to do more with helping people. I will help out with these until they tell me to stop helping out. (Or until that Elvis-Squirrel-Alien thing happens. It’s real, people.) And I will continue to give these kids 100%. It’s just… not always easy? I guess that’s the right phrasing for it. It’s not always easy when I see other groups getting a lot out of it, and me, sitting there hoping I’m giving these kids what they want and what they need from this experience.

                Of course, I could always go back to saving the world from the evil squirrel invasion.

On A Mission From God: Ione Skye Finds Me Amusing

                One of the interesting things about Mission Trips is that the work you’re doing can be a complete mystery until you show up.

                I mean,you always have an IDEA of what’s going on. Last year I attended a trip where we did a lot of physical labor outside, building wheelchair ramps or yard work or fixing barn doors. (In this case, the showers were located directly next to where we were staying. Sweet, sweet showers. Given the amount of sweat, there really wasn’t another option.)

                This time it was a lot more… abstract. On the one hand we spent some time working at food pantries, ensuring that everything was stocked. I spent some delightful time with a rather nice man who was volunteering who was a pretty big Star Trek Fan. Of course, while he was a nice man (and I would never insult someone’s efforts to just do something nice) he did spend a little extra time telling me all about how he felt that Star Trek was Gene Roddenberry’s ACTUAL vision of the future. And he was not a fan of our President. Not one bit. (That was a longer day than usual.)

                On the other, we did spend some time just helping out at a thrift store. While it was a “Christian” thrift store, I didn’t really see the difference between that and a regular thrift store. Maybe it was just me. But one thing I did learn is if you carry a bunch of clothes around a thrift store, people will just assume you work there, no matter how you’re dressed. (I was dressed in a plain T-Shirt and jeans. I’m like a cartoon character in that I only have a few outfits.) Admittedly,I didn’t get as much out of that experience. I don’t think the kids did,either. I think it was around the time they said, “We didn’t get as much out of that experience.” But you know kids; it’s difficult to figure out what they were saying.

                Of course, the ultimate goal is to just go out and do good for a little bit. The important thing is to carry that back, and instill that feeling of doing good onto the kids. Was I successful? I don’t know. I’d like to think so. The difficult thing about real life is that the music rarely swells while everyone is doing an action that clearly shows they learned something from you. I mean,it can from time to time, but then I’m just told to shut off the speakers on my boombox, sit back down, and no matter how much I want to be I’m not actually John Cusack.  (I could totally be, but Joan Cusack refuses to show up as random characters in my daily life.)

                At the end of the day, you have to do your best.

On a Mission from God: Werewolf vs. Vampire

            When you go on mission trips (particularly where you are chaperoning a bunch of teenagers) you accept a few things. You accept that your time will be dictated to you almost down to the minute. You accept that you won’t be eating the fanciest of foods. You accept that “alone time” consists of those few moments when you wake up and forget why you’re sleeping on the floor. You accept that you will have to work hard to set a good example (I’m not a “setting a good example” kind of guy. I’m more of a “what can we get away with” kind of guy) You also accept that you will not be staying in the best accommodations.

                What is difficult to accept is having a shower facility that is 25 minutes away from where you are staying with a bunch of teenagers that are working and sweating all day.

                Twenty. Five. Long. Minutes.

                For this particular trip we stayed in a church.  I mean, it was a nice church. It was a nice big room that we stayed in, on the floor. All in all, I won’t lie that I was grateful to have a place to stay at all, rather than a tent in the woods as I know some mission trips provide. There was minimum air conditioning. And the carpet was ok to sleep on. Not the best, but I’ve slept on worse. But let’s talk about sleeping in a room full of 30 teenage boys. Let’s talk about how that really starts to smell by the end of the second day.

                And as I’ve mentioned, the showers were 25 minutes away. That’s an episode of Parks and Recreation minus the commercials. If you’re not a fan of Parks and Recreation, that’s an episode of Community minus the commercials. If you’re not a fan of either of those, then I urge you to develop some good taste in television shows.

                It’s important to note that we are all tested at some point. Personally, I was tested by trying to determine the logic of getting 60 teenagers together and telling them they couldn’t shower. Well, they could, but when you dangle “free time or shower “ in front of them, you might as well be asking them to be a mopey teenager in Washington State choosing between a werewolf and a vampire. (Obligatory Twilight reference for the week… check.) The shower, of course, is the vampire.

                Granted, I’m a creative person. You see, they did have showers at the facility we stayed, the kids were asked just not to use them when the church was open, which was pretty much when they were in the church. However, hypothetically you could set your alarm for a certain time when no one is awake, and you could easy to slip down and sneak into said shower. Then you could have a few moments of peace and quiet, a break from the unique aroma of non-showering teenagers, a door that locked, and some hot, hot water.

         

             This is all hypothetically speaking, of course. Far be it from me to break any rules.

On A Mission from God: Now 100% Eco-Friendly!

              So, after a week of mission tripping out to Raleigh, North Carolina, I’d like to say that I’m back with a newfound sense of enlightenment. Or at least appreciation of who I am. Or perhaps the secret of the universe. Alas, at the end of the day no matter how much good you think you are doing, it’s a week. One week out of your life that’s somewhat inconvenienced for the sake of helping others.

                Now, none of this is meant to represent some dissatisfaction with my trip. I had a good time, I helped some people, I hung out with some cool kids. Ultimately, I know I did good, for one week, while I was slightly inconvenienced by sleeping on the floor with 40 other people. So this isn’t meant as some anti-mission trip rant so much as a… reflection of sorts on where I was, and what I was doing.

                I never know how to feel when I attend these things.  I didn’t grow up in the particular religion that I was escorting on this trip, and the place we stayed was a church other than that religion, too.  (I figure I’m covering all my bases.) But it’s always strange for me. Not that I find one religion stranger than another (except, you know that one where we all worship Tom Cruise. I never could quite get behind that Messiah) but I never quite know how to act at these things. Other than just being on other people’s definition of best behavior, not necessarily MY definition of best behavior.

                So, we get there, and we all get name tags… those sticky ones that wear off in a few hours… but we’re expected to keep them for a week. Now these name tags barely cling to your shirt the first time, by the second time they’re being held on by hope, and by the third shirt you’re pretty much looking down and wondering at what point your name tag decided to jump for it and is living the good life floating into a sewer somewhere. Maybe they didn’t expect me to change shirts every day? I was sweating pretty badly under the Raleigh sun, so I’m going to say that it was a public service that I ended up changing my shirt every day.

                There is a lot of recycling that went on this week. Leftovers from every meal were put into a compost pile. Normally, I’m for a compost pile. I don’t know the science behind it, but people who know tell me it’s good for the environment. What it turns out I’m against is a MOBILE  compost pile, that is created in one location and meant to be taken to another. You see, a compost pile, for those who don’t know, is a pile of leftover food and waste that is used to help plants and crops grow. By the third day, it smells a little like my shirt did working out in the hot Raleigh sun. (On a scale of 1-10 it rated close to “oh dear God if you love me you’ll take away my sense of smell right now.”) So, we kept throwing leftovers into this tiny cooler that I prayed would never ever be used to take beer to a concert ever again.

                So that was just the recycling part of the week. There are still many more adventures to cover regarding my week as Missionary.