Stage(s) By Sarah Splding
Stage(s) By Sarah Spalding
Table of Contents Editors Note
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All the Worlds a Stage (1)
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The Infant
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The School Boy
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The Lover
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The Soldier
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The Justice
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The Shift
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All the Worlds a Stage (2)
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Editors Note Every person has to go through the stages of life. The moment a baby is born they are immediately beginning their journey. A journey that will take them from their first breath to their last; the first word they speak, to the last murmured syllable. There is so much to be accomplished in the short amount of time offered to us. I want to help people see the world through someone else’s eyes, to help them see the life they have differently, to make people feel things so strong that for a moment they can mistake those feelings as their own. I want to help lead them through the stages of life with open minded and guiding force. I believe the two most powerful and effective ways to accomplish this is through performance and writing. I have seen first hand how the arts can change peoples lives and there is a certain magic that runs strong and true through the veins of the written word. There are so many parallels between the process of creation in theatre and the steps taken to get through life in our world. In this collection of writings I wanted to show and accentuate that connection between the written and spoken word. Shakespeare’s famous monologue “All the worlds a stage” takes the audience through the seven stages of life. He brings his audience to understand the journey of life that we all must take on. Each piece speaks about either a stage in life or a stage in the process of theatre, from childish naivety to monotonous adulthood. In this way I hope to further expose the truth behind Shakespeare’s words. This is why I want to become an actor, because I believe that great theatre gives audiences two gifts: perspective and escape. I hope this collection accurately portrays the connection between life and theatre… from performance on the stage to the stages of living.
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All the Worlds a Stage (1) All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. -William Shakespeare (As You Like It. Act II. Scene vii. 1599)
Reflection Shakespearean theater is often perceived as one of the most beautiful forms of theater in all of time. William Shakespeare had this incredible way with words and an unparalleled ability to portray the current topics of his time in an obscenely creative and entertaining way. Theater is thought of as a place you go to watch people move and portray characters and perform stories but there was something about Shakespeare's theater that made it different from all the rest. This difference, based on my opinion, is also what has secured its seat as the best form of theater in the world. The best way to describe this deviation from the norm is that in that time people came to Shakespeare's performances to hear the play not to see it. His use of language is what makes him so unique and so beautiful, because there is so much meaning, life, and emotion encompassed in his words. His use of imagery is unlike any other play writes. With plays the use of imagery doesn’t seem wholly necessary because the action is being performed for the audience already but with his plays it adds so much more.
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The Infant It was a warm night in Palolo valley, not uncomfortable just a gentle caress of heat. I had on my footed onesie pajamas and lay down, sinking comfortably amongst my great assortments of fluffy blankets and stuffed animal. My mother came in and rested against the headboard next to me pulling out a book and beginning to read...the image of a stereotypical night of a six year old. I curled up, my eyes sagging with exhaustion. I reached over and patted my mom’s shoulder, like I knew more than any other child my age possibly could and told her that I would live with her forever and ever‌ that I would never leave and we could be together for the rest of our lives. I realize how cruel a thing that was to say, looking back. Of course most mothers would love to believe that there darling angel would stay with them forever, that they won't want to leave and will be there to take care of them. I'm sure she knew that as time went on, my feelings, perspectives, and dreams would change, but giving any form of false hope is cruel no matter the age. Back then my perception of time was as it is for most children, seconds seem like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days, and years an eternity. I thought there wouldn't be a day where I would need to or even want to leave my mother and fathers side. That was me, the naive child confident in a future where I would be six forever stuck in the endless expanse of time.
Reflection I believe that with any piece of writing it is important to bring the reader in. It is important for them to feel connected and entrapped in the piece they are reading. No matter the point of view the actual piece is written in, the reader should be able to put themselves in the situation or experience the story on some sort of personal level. I think that is one of the major things that distinguishes good writing from bad writing. I really wanted to accomplish that within the introduction. I wanted everyone that remembers having that connection with their mother, every person who can recall being naive and child like to be transported to that time. Or if the reader is someone who never had that connection with their mother, never had a family to begin with, never given the opportunity to be a child, I wanted them to in some way empathize with what it is like. That is one thing I always want to accomplish in whatever I write but I felt like it was especially important in this one because it helps to get the point of childish absurdity across to the reader.
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The School Boy By: Gabriel Mayer
Over the summer, I attended an acting conservatory program at Rutgers University in New Jersey. For a month, I got up at 6am, ate breakfast at 7, and then took acting-related classes until 10pm, breaking only for lunch and dinner. We had Voice, Speech, Movement, and Acting courses, along with a sprawl of other seminars. Each class was an hour, excluding movement and acting, which were 2 and 3 hours, respectively. I learned a huge amount about myself and about my craft. Looking back on it, the program made me a stronger actor. On day one, I was unsure of myself and didn't have a good understanding of what we were doing. I was also very unfocused; I would zone out and often drop my pencil or notebook. I was hesitant to work off of my partner. This was hard for me because I was not (and still am not to a degree) used to intense and emotional social interaction. I did figure out how to get in better touch with my emotions by developing points of view on different aspects of life. By the end of the program, I was open and comfortable with my classmates. I understood how to become connected with the character I was playing. For me this was a tremendous amount of growth in a short period of time.
Reflection I chose to use Gabriel's piece because it accentuates the attitude that passionate students harbor. I think this is a good piece of writing because it shows something very important: a willingness and eagerness to learn. Children are thirsty for knowledge. It isn't until the child grows up that learning becomes tedious and chore like. He brings the reader through his experience, through the schedule and the classes he took. If I had one thing that I think could be improved on this piece it would be the use of figurative language. I am a stickler for word choice and imagery. I think that the reader stays not only more interested but is more willing to suck in and learn from what is being said. There is not a great diversity in the styles of writing in his piece. It is mostly explanatory and reflective. Not that sticking to one style is necessarily bad, but I believe this piece could be taken to a new level if he used descriptive writing to communicate with the reader.
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The Lover By: Kalena Onaga
One might find it odd that a place where I feel most content is located halfway across the world in Scotland. I’ve only stepped foot in the place about six or seven times at the absolute most, but the last time I sat in this beautiful theatre was the best fifteen minutes of my life. The red velvet chairs, beautiful crown molding, an empty stage and a house filled with roughly forty people running around, causing chaos. Putting on a show and presenting it to the public is scary enough as it is. Wondering if the audience will like your adaptation of someone else’s work are ideas. Attempting to make them your own all the while sticking to the true meaning and aspect of the character is so complex and unnerving. But when you decide to write your own play with thirty-two other high school students and two adults presenting on an international level to be shared for the first time...well...that’s just crazy. When we first heard that we would be traveling to the largest theatre festival in the world with an original piece a loud murmur enveloped our tiny theatre. When working on a show, these classmates not only become your friends but you create such a strong bond you start to become family. The endless amount of time you spend with these people not only on but off the stage writing and collaborating something made by us created really made Churchill all the more special. The trip was coming to a close and our final show in Scotland had snuck up on all of us. We knew it had to come to an end at some point, we just didn’t want to accept the fact that soon enough this would all be over. Glass had it’s final show and Churchill filled with chaos, like the previous three shows we had, cleaning out the dressing rooms...putting away props...taking down the set...sweeping the stage. But this time was different. As I grabbed my makeup and draped my costume of my right arm for the final time making my way out of the whitest dressing room ever to be in existence finding my way in house. I laid my bags on the floor sat in the third row, aisle seat, and took it all in. The mayhem that seemed to be happening around me wasn’t in real time. The world began to slow as I gazed up at the chandelier and slowly glided my eyes across each panel on the ceiling finally making my way towards the stage. A place where I performed only four times was now my home. It was as if my body shut out all noises and I became the only person within it’s walls. The real world ceased to exist and I became consumed with this indescribable feeling. The type of feeling you can never get unless you truly take in a moment. Salt water started to escape my being and my love for this gorgeous theatre grew. It finally hit me that Glass was over and I will never be up on this stage again. My family will disperse after this trip and we will no longer be the same. I will never be the same. As I sat in the chair it’s velvet material caressed my skin and created a certain type of vulnerability within myself that I have never experienced. This moment will forever be lost in time...intangible. This vibe that seems to be creating a force field from reality will never happen again. “Thank you Mid-Pacific” echoed throughout the theatre, for the last time, quickly snapping me out of this beautiful trance I never thought would end. As I made my way out of the theatre, down the steps and onto the coach one final time I had to stop myself from sobbing. Tears have been shed after every final performance. When the show is over and our final curtain call has arrived crying seems to be inevitable. But no tears have ever meant more than those shed on that red velvet seat in Scotland.
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Reflection The strongest thing in Kalena’s essay is undoubtedly tone. She has a certain way with words that I think is uniquely and undoubtedly her own. I went on the same trip as her and I can say that in every way possible this entire piece is an accurate portrayal of my own feelings and the feelings of several others in our cast. Describing that experience and the feelings that the cast shared in that theatre is extremely difficult. It's not something that can be properly put into words but I think she did a truly fantastic job. She has good use of descriptive and reflective writing as well as some solid figurative language. Her use of imagery is wonderfully executed in some places and her efforts to connect with the audience are quite successful as well. She uses description of the senses: sight, touch, sound, to really reel in the reader. There are some things that could be improved but they are more technical. The transitions between her paragraphs lack some flow and there are some spastic changes in tens and perspective. But overall the piece is entertaining and can hopefully be empathized with in the way it should be.
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The Soldier A lot of people go through life with a mentality of...living life to the fullest. Of course people have different beliefs on how to do this. Some people think helping people, doing good in school, making a family, become rich... all kinds of things that society would have us believe is the key to absolute happiness. And it is true that "living life to the fullest" is most easily said to be achieved by succeeding at happiness. But there are others that live with the mentality of just doing what makes you happy in the here and now. Not basing all success off of the future and the happiness achieved twenty or thirty years from now, but the happiness a person feels in the moment. We all know that the happiness to be found in the now is not always legal or long term. A person can do something that will make them have that sense of euphoria but the consequences can often outweigh the temporary joy. Imagine this. It's nighttime and you are alone in your room. The moonlight leaks through the slightly open window and you are overwhelmed by a sense of boredom. The urge to go out and do something is brutally strong. You know you could. It would be too easy to sneak out of the door, tiptoe down the hall, leave through the sliding door, avoid the motion sensor light, meet with the friends that have gone off to college. Wreak havoc among the sleeping neighborhood, bathing in the memories of the times with the people that surround you, the adrenaline rush of doing something 'wrong'. The boredom you felt long forgotten. The silence of your room and the sleeping family inside the conservative walls of your home is no longer In the forefront of your mind...until you get caught. "I thought this for sure when I was younger. It didn’t matter how long I held a grudge or how long I waited to do something I wanted—there would be an unlimited pool of other opportunities. At least, that’s what I thought back then." this is a quote from an article by Lori Deschene. And it's true sometimes life seems to drag on...nothing interesting ever happening, the success we all long for refusing to show itself. This frustration is more than often what leads to the carelessness of short-term happiness. On the other side of the spectrum, if you are patient, then you live your life for long term happiness, then it is my opinion you will live a boring life... but one of comfort. You are thirty-two years old and have finally found success. Your steady paycheck gives you the power to eat out every night with your two kids and significant other you may or may not love. There's a maid that comes in to clean your house every week. There's food in the fridge, the air is warm, and you are surrounded by a sense that everything you've done in life has led up to where you are now...an accomplished person without struggle. Unless you look back and notice things you could have done then, you will never be able to do now. There are a lot of decisions to make in life and each of them can arguable effect where your life will be however many years from now. It's dependent on the kind of person you are or who you want to be. This isn't to say it's impossible to live life with a good present filled with excitement and adrenaline as well as a comfortable future. It's just important to watch the steps you take. The key is to tread carefully through life...but not too carefully.
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Reflection Persuasive writing is, in my opinion, one of the most difficult essay forms. This is because the writer needs to enlighten the reader not only to the topic at hand (the thing to be persuaded), any needed information needed to back up the shift in belief, but also needs to convince the reader of this new thing. The goal is to get the reader to understand and actually change their mind or come to a realization about themselves only because of the words the author wrote. In this paper I wanted the reader to realize that there has to be a balance to long term and short-term happiness in life if a person wants to achieve true satisfaction and joy. That it can be dangerous or regretful if one does only one or the other. The grammar is somewhat lacking in this piece especially with tenses and comma usage. The sentence structure of this piece could be better in some places. There are a lot of simple sentences and way more ellipses than are wholly necessary. Simple sentences can be effective in a paper, but too many can make a piece seem choppy.
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The Justice There is a saying that states, “you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”. I've always thought those were some pretty wise words and I would think that, like with most things, having some understanding of the situation at hand would make it easier to deal with. But, it hurts knowing that all good things must come to an end. That being said, every time a show (a production) ends I get this ridiculous sense of melancholy, but this past year we did one show specifically Glass that brought the sorrowful feeling to a new level. Glass was truly an incredible experience, filled with magic and opportunity. I was given a chance to be a part of something truly life changing. It was a devised piece, one we worked on for almost a year and I cannot express how amazing the process really was. But, there were times in the midst of writing (the early stages of the production) when I wished we could just fast forward, that it would be easier...but I realize now how foolish that was and it will continue to be one of my greatest regrets. There were moments in this process of creating the show when I could not stop freaking out. The feeling of excitement at having our own piece was slowly being overshadowed by nervousness, with opening night in sight and the fear that our product would not be worth all the trouble, that it would not appeal to an audience. I just wanted to move forward some days. The rehearsals were slow and I couldn't not cry sometimes because I wanted so desperately for it to be not just a good show but an incredible one that peoples jaws would drop at. I didn't lose faith that we could achieve the goal we had set as a cast, to make something memorable and new, it just became difficult to have faith in the way we were approaching the writing process. About a week before opening night, the director presented the cast with the first printed versions of the complete script. We read it through from the top and when we got to the end... it was the first time any of us were going to see or hear the conclusion of our play. The last lines resonated with me. The force and intention behind these final words hit me, like a hammer to the chest, and it was at that point I realized we had it. We’d always had it, but the potential and significance of this experience was being hidden by fear that it wouldn't be everything it was. The fact that I did not see this will be something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I would give anything to go back to those long rehearsals and tear filled conversations with the director... to just have one more late night rehearsal or weekend writing session. I did not treasure the time I had with some of the greatest people I’ll ever know, doing something so fulfilling and uniting. Even now... months later I think about the magic we made and I cry, laugh, remember, and regret. I wish I had known then how much all those moments in fear and excitement would mean to me now.
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Reflection My greatest regret in this piece is the lack of descriptive writing. Whenever I write about Glass I want to in any way possible communicate what an incredible experience it was so the reader can look at it in that way. Just me telling the reader doesn't mean they are going to believe what I am saying,and it is for that reason I wish I had used more trust me statements. The grammar and overall composition of this piece is not particularly great either. I think the tone got the feelings and the overall message across but it could have been so much stronger. Had I used more figurative language, the imagery may have added a new level that could appeal to the reader even more.
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The Shift A child’s brain is like a heaping mountain of clay, pliant, moldable, lax, willing to shift whichever way the holder wishes. Before they can think for themselves or know their own desires everything they discover and know is based off of their surroundings. The things you learn as a child, all the information your developing brain retains is what forms the person you will be for the rest of your life. It’s scary to think that the person you will become is completely reliant on the individuals who raise you, the people you are surrounded by, and as a newborn you have no say in who those people are. Your future is essentially in the hands of a ‘stranger’ who may do with you whatever they please. In all honesty those people might not even realize the effect they might be having on you, this child they have sworn to love and care for. The knowledge they either decide or refuse to put in your brain can be what makes or breaks a person. There is a child. He walks the school halls with his backpack stuffed full of books and papers hugging his back tightly. He is bright eyed and thirsty...not just thirsty, parched for knowledge. He sits excitedly in his small desk, looking up at this person this teacher speaking so animatedly. The man who will feed him this knowledge is just as excited, just as desperate to quench the thirst for understanding that rests inside the boy’s brain. He waves his arms wide, telling the starry eyed face’s of the wild tales they will learn of and all the wondrous things they will discover. He passes out the books the children gripping the covers with eager hands. They drink in and tear through the stories. Learning of life, death, love, fear, and the sickness that has infected their society. But then...things change. A man walks into the room and says something to the man, then turns to the confused wondering children and sends them out to break with a forced smile. When they come back inside... teacher is gone. His desk is cleared, their books...all the wonderful tales...are missing from their own desks and bags. The knowledge robbed from their very person and slowly...their minds. The children grow knowing only what the new man let them know. They never see their teacher again...instead watching documentaries, and reading fat books with no stories...only blank pages with black ink messily staining every inch, leaving no room for creativity...no room for love, hate, sadness, joy, life, death, hero's, and villains. No room for knowledge....only ancient wars, math equations, and the hated proper language. Soon they all forget the man that once taught them such wonderful things and fall into the steady bleak routine of education. They read, write, play their part. As they grow older they do not question things, or look at the world with perspective...instead staring blankly with heads full of equations and history. And the boy who once was so thirsty for the stories no longer follows the path that would lead him to become a happy man that wrote of wonderful things to feed the minds of children. Instead...a shadow of that man appears. Bagging groceries and only seeing the world in black and white...because those are the only colors he was permitted to see. The colors that once blossomed in his mind from pouring over the awakening stories stamped out by the belief that they were not suitable for the classroom. By hiding these stories from an eager child...you are not protecting them. You are depriving them of creativity and life and knowledge...you are depriving them of the education they deserve.
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Reflection This is another piece that is really trying to communicate a message. From what feels like the dawn of time people have been censoring books in the classroom. There are these magnificent tales that children could learn so much from but never will because the school they go will not permit it. The world is full of crazy unexpected sometimes horrible things and every child is going to learn about those things at some point as they get older. That isn't to say I'm not all for "preserving innocence" and all of that, but I firmly believe people are taking it to a whole new level. Parents and teachers want to keep the children they love safe. But not letting them learn about life and all the good and bad it has to offer through literature is a big mistake. This piece was written on one very long and jumbled rant. Sometimes it is really difficult to edit a piece that was originally written like that because...it has this sort of feel to it, a kind of weird unconventional literary flow. The sentence structure, especially in the introduction paragraph, is flawed. It is lacking in the sense that some of the sentences just do not sound well composed or like 'good English'. However, I think that the use of perspective and taking the stance of a narrator and telling a story to get the point across worked well. My attempt was to translate a sense of awareness to the reader through descriptive, explanatory, narrative, and yes accusatory tone.
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All the Worlds a Stage (2) Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. -William Shakespeare (As You Like It. Act II. Scene vii. 1599)
Reflection Punctuation and grammar has never been a big part of Shakespeare’s works. Everything he writes is about meaning. He had one of the largest vocabularies in all of literature and he used that knowledge very wisely. He references so many things, historically, religiously, politically, socially in all of his writings, be it a play or a poem. It's to the point where sometimes using context clues is not enough and it becomes difficult to understand what is being said or referenced unless you are an incredibly well versed and educated person. Shakespeare vocabulary was actually like twice as big as the average humans. Not to mention that he coined over 500 words in his literary career. But seriously, if the average person is reading Shakespeare, not watching because for some reason his meaning and intention becomes a lot more clear and understandable when seeing and hearing it being performed. But the average reader of a Shakespearean text would need to have the internet or a dictionary handy because they are bound to come across some word or references they simply will not understand. Of course that is just a matter of how thoroughly a person wants to understand the language. Shakespeare is an amazing writer because his language makes music. In this monologue the melancholy Jaquise is speaking of the acts we must all go through as humans from the beginning to the end of life. The end, this final stage, is when we return to the childish helplessness from so long ago. He tells us that everything begins to leave us...our teeth, eyes, taste, everything about us. The world changes around us, the body and mind shifting as our time to experience this final scene draws near. Once we get there, it is important to remember everything we accomplished in the past acts. We played our part, passing through the curtains to perform on each of our stages before moving onto the next... until we take the final bow and melt into oblivion.
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Expository Writing Period # 2