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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Constant Reader who wrote (58692)	2/18/2001 11:57:30 AM
From: epicure	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

That's wonderful.

To: Constant Reader who wrote (58692)	2/18/2001 11:24:49 PM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 71178

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road is long, full of adventure, full of knowledge The journey was indeed long- and cold- and full of adventure- Poor Ammo spent Friday on a plane sniffling and coughing from Dallas to Chicago to Syracuse, and on to Ithaca, getting sicker by the mile. We drugged him with Nyquil and went to bed early. Unfortunately the hotel we were in was also home for the night to the University of New Hampshire girls' hockey team, big, strong, healthy girls who practiced all night in the hall, using our door as their goal. The heat seemed to be controlled by a poltergeistic power and we had to open the window or be baked alive but it was 17 degrees out and snowing. We finally reached an acceptable temperature by turning the heat on full blast and leaving a window open two inches. By the next morning Ammo had a voice that resembled The Godfather's. He was feverish and had chills. We headed to the college which was just lovely, a New England sort of Santa Cruz, not the beautiful trees but the wonderful view from the top of a mountain looking out to one of the finger lakes. I saw it briefly as I ran from the car to the theatre. THere were a lot of kids and parents. A LOT. Like 50. We were informed that Ithaca sees 800 auditions to fill 12 slots in acting, 12 in musical theatre, and another 30 or so in their BA theatre program. Ammo couldn't have cared less. He sat there in a drugged stupor, occasionally croaking something in the hopes that his voice had returned and drinking bottle after bottle of water. WHen they finally called his name he wasn't there; he was in the bathroom for the fourth time. (I'm peeing straight Evian, Mom- I could just refill the bottles and save you some money.) Dan ran to get him and led him to the student who took charge of his limp, near comatose form and disappeared. We sat there feeling terrible for him, suffering in spirit for what surely would be a dismal and humiliating five minutes. He came out. How did it go? we asked, all sympathy. Great! He had an adrenaline rush, and felt it was really a good audition despite having no voice, although when he first walked in there was no chair. (There's always a chair for them to use -- it's the only allowed prop). "Do you have a chair I can use?" he asked politely. He was auditioning in front of the head of the theatre dept. "It's right there," said He. AMmo said he then noticed that there was a big bright orange chair in the middle of the floor. He blames his inability to see it immediately on being drugged. "Ah!" he exclaimed,"The one painted in camouflage." "Yes," said the Chair (the dept chair not the orange one), "We do that so the students can't find it." After Ammo went through his monologues- in one he has to yell at the top of his lungs, and he said it came out more of a very intense whisper, which he himself thought quite effective--- the Chair said,"Do you have a bad cold?" "Yes," said Ammo. "I have bronchitis, or maybe pneumonia." (He was born to act) "Well, don't worry about it. I can tell what you can do in spite of that." We tried to figure out if this meant, I can tell you have incredible abilities and talent anyway, or, you suck with or without a voice. I guess we'll know in a few weeks. Ithaca was a lovely town -- very hilly, as Crow said, but with a renovated, picturesque downtown section called the Commons. We saw all this from the car. There was no way I was getting out in that cold. We flew from Syracuse (16 degrees) through CHicago (7 degrees) and arrived in Dallas, where it was a sunny, balmy 60s. I think of Ish and Croc and wonder what the hell they are thinking living up there.

To: Constant Reader who wrote (58692)	2/19/2001 1:14:23 AM
From: Mac Con Ulaidh	Respond to of 71178

Thank you so much for that poem. I have been rereading it and sharing it. I was trying to explain my "life" to someone tonight. How hard is that? It is no ordinary life, but a journey of many years, leading to a destination that few conceive of, and that has little meaning to most in this world of ours. What more could we wish for than her welcome when we arrive? And what riches could we value beyond the knowledge we have gained as we found our way to her? What could we long for beyond the rest we find in her arms?