Entries Tagged as 'Practice'

A subject speaks…

On Thursday you have the opportunity to not only see the opening night of a play, but an opening night of a company as Poor Shadows of Elysium open their doors to the tune of a coin-flip Richard II at the Curtain (good seats still available!).

This process has been a joy. I am reunited with several of my compatriots from last summer’s 7 Tower’s production of Tis Pity She’s a Whore and I’ve been allowed to play John of Gaunt and the Bishop of Carlisle. If you haven’t read Richard II let me say simply that I get to deliver two of the greatest speeches ever put to paper. I get to do it on an Elizabethan style stage under the stars and I get to do it with a cast digging for every ounce of gold in this rich mine.

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And that’s sort of not the good part.

It’s the coin flip.

Chance decides who plays King Richard II and who plays his fair cousin Henry Bolingbroke. We really do open the show with seven couplets, two orphan lines, and a coin flip (expertly executed!) and on stage our Richard-of-the-now has all of 15 seconds to do his preshow prep and open the show.

And we have to adjust
and therein lies the fun.

From the beginning (as noted here) we’ve essentially been rehearsing two shows. None of the choices Aaron and Kevin have tried have been constrained in any way. Indeed the only times they even know what choices the other has made are in shared scenes. They’re pretty different. Aaron and Kevin are very different performers with very different styles and approaches.

In the standard rehearsal process choices and reactions tend to happen early, calcify early and remain until the space, costumes, lights and audience modify them …then that set of choices and reactions live for the run –Thespian bed death.

When you are playing more than one person opposite more than one person the geometric possibilities are impressive.  I play Bolingbroke’s father and one of Richard’s final supporters. The choices the two men make about their relationship with me drive my reaction back at them and that evolves as they own more and more of show and try new tactics.

You can’t stop listening. The only workable tactic is know your lines and intention and play it at stakes. Or y’know – acting.

It’s awesome. There’s no acting-cheating allowed. It’s not as simple as playing the note the same way every time. The notes change – the instruments change. It’s sort of enforcing the best acting practices in not allowing us to lean on our crutches. It’s lovely.


Last week (a week from opening) health issues forced our Northumberland to resign from the show (get well soon Casey!) and David Boss stepped from the roles he was playing into Northumberland. This led to shuffling as our director chose to not go outside the family at this late date. It lead to the untimely demise of Ross and Scroop and Wes Riddle picked up the Gardener’s man in 3.4.

The now-cut Scroop delivers the news of Bolingbroke’s victories in England and York’s defection to the King in 3.2. It’s a huge driver toward the “Let Us Sit on Ground” speech. The speeches are now transferred to a letter delivered by Salisbury and read by the Bishop of Carlisle.

Honestly it’s a better scene. It colors the relationship between King Richard and Carlisle further (culminating in the “I Speak to Subjects” speech in 4.1) but more importantly it doesn’t ‘dilute the room’. Where dealing with the politics of status the fewer people in a room the more likely you are to get something truly personal (or at least less rhetorically obfuscated) out of the high status folks.

As much as it was a bit of a Balrog when we were already weary, the whole switcheroo has highlighted the flexibility of the process though. Rather than the panic of newly busted scenes and rhythms is was simply a new face where the other was expected which is something we’ve been training for all the while.

I can’t wait to share all this with you.

Is there a Doctor in the house?

Last week I closed a four week run of Doug Wright’s Quills with Austin’s Different Stages and I wanted to jot down a few things I learned that will be helpful to me going forward. Please bear with me if this makes no damn sense or is insufferably precious about acting.

Quills 2

Doctor Royer-Collard is the sort of apoplectic asshole I’ve been playing since I was 16. He’s Horace Vandergelder with a bad childhood. He wants happiness and love… he just sucks at them and so clings to the rigidity of the framework The Rules supplies to force others into the same misery. The Doctor is what the free range nerd would call Lawful Evil.

I had a surprising amount of trouble with the Doctor for a character I’ve been playing for 20 years. Partly because of the setting the Doctor found himself in (sort of Grand Guinol farce), my own stubbornness in terms of what I wanted versus what the director wanted, and because, well, I’m in a very different acting shape than the last time I tried this sort of character on. I am a much more focused actor than I was 5 years ago – than I was 1 year ago. Regular work means that the acting muscles are a lot leaner and stronger than they were. It means that the sort of broad choices this character would have engendered of old didn’t fit any more. I sort of rattled around in them.

Eventually I settled out to an acceptable answer or two but it took much longer than it should have.

  • I forgot that I change.
    I’ve been playing this character (of a kind) since I was 16 and 70 pounds lighter. I was adding ‘age’ characteristics out of habit when they were necessary to the character or my portrayal at all. I was doing it because that’s what I do with these characters. Question all of your choices.
  • Quiet isn’t always best
    I’m a big believer in ‘make your choices and show them’ rather than talking them all to death. I will talk a show into the ground and it stops being about doing. However… I would advocate actually saying your choices out loud. It doesn’t need to be in rehearsal… I described the Doctor to my wife in a post-rehearsal frustration fugue and simply hearing myself describe him allowed me to fix the problematic choices. There were things that I hadn’t realized I had accidentally chosen…
  • Mind your words
    Look, this is awfully actor froofy, but mind how you describe a character. This is how I got into (and eventually out of trouble). All of the adjectives I was using for the Doctor were ultra-passive. “Waiting” “Cautious” “Plotting” “Scheming” they are so passive as to leave him flaccid. (It was Quills bear with me). Swapping out those words to something more active and playable makes a huge difference. “Coiled” “Prowling” – they create a very different tension in a scene and honestly it made the Doctor a LOT less frenetic.. which was to the better.
  • Overcome obstacles
    I failed at this… I didn’t realize I was doing it until closing weekend. My shows were a little tight, and the deck at the City Theatre is bouncy and uneven. It made me take very small steps.

    Get up and take 10 steps with your stride foot landing inches in front of your plant foot.
    Now just STRIDE the 8 feet.
    That difference in control is huge, the difference in power is huge and the difference in perceived power is huge. I blew it.

Mostly Quills was a win. I stripped away the unnecessary age, mostly won the never ending battle against Britification in period speech, I fixed the rampant passivity and by the end of the run was actively pushing the Abbe towards his well-earned end rather than waiting for him to get there. Baby steps.

All About… someone else

Tonight is preemptively one of my favorite nights.

As I’ve been annoying everyone with for weeks, I’m… busy. The busiest I have been in my entire life. It’s terrifying and glorious and aside from missing my wife and cats terribly –  this is the dream. It’s rare you are allowed to see such things as they happen but today sums up this period in my life. Tonight I will be onstage as Dr. Royer-Collard, the moral center (ha!) of Different Stages’ Quills at City Theatre, Cambiare is presenting Mariah MacCarthy’s All About a Boy as part of the Frontera Fest short fringe (tickets!), and the lovely and talented Dan Solomon has written a very flattering profile that appears in this week’s Austin Chronicle.

Cut-your-Face

All this on a night off from rehearsing Poor Shadows of Elysium’s Richard II and in the same week that 7 Towers Theatre company announced their upcoming production of Pillowman which I will be in somehow.

It’s a pretty great time to be me.

Except…

A million years ago I started writing a theatre blog to explicate what I want to be as a theatre artist… the sort of art I wanted to take part in or support and the aesthetic that I wanted to champion. But as my wife will tell you, I have no idea what I want or what makes me happy. It drives her crazy.

There hasn’t been a plan. For me or long term for Cambiare. My time in Austin was supposed to be temporary and I forgot to ever adjust my thinking to what I could accomplish here. Much like my office in the new house – I never really unpacked, I just sort of starting going with one eye on the exit. I never set my feet and really rooted and it led to me missing something that I already knew. Something that was, quite frankly the reason Cambiare started in the first place.

If no one is doing the thing you need doing?
You’re the one who needs to be doing it.

I jump started Cambiare because there wasn’t a company in town that would do Transformations and it deserved doing, and because not enough people knew how good Will Hollis Snider is at theatre.

We’ve done an okay job with the things we’ve made, but as Mr. Solomon pointed out in the profile… work has been pretty thin on the ground. All About a Boy is indeed a step in a direction Will and I have talked about: simply workshopping more rather than letting our uninstitutional lack of resources mean that we disappear for 18 months. We need to evangelize for writers and texts we love – that I love.

Because Mr. Solomon nails it (just about: I added an “else”)

Ultimately, it may have taken the promise of leaving town to turn Bedard into the sort of Austin theatremaker that he’s been waiting for someone [else] to become. But at least, finally, he’s bringing the conversation out of the Internet and onto the stage.

All About a Boy is the sort of project I think ADs should be doing.

It’s not my story. It’s not my STYLE of story. It may actually be the opposite of the sort of theatre we would make for ourselves. But Mariah MacCarthy is a compelling writer who makes plays that need to be seen on their feet. There is something about her writing that is alive when actors breathe it… but you have to see that to know it.

And someone has to show you.

I will try to be better about showing not telling.

Let’s all keep digging into the best work we can find and make sure the world knows about it. I’m sorry I haven’t been doing it all along.

The hip bone’s connected to the…

Rose Rage opens this very night and it’s been a slog personally.

Coming on the heels of Tis Pity She’s a Whore I came to this process tired and sort of emotionally roiled. We had a great Tis Pity run and I was proud of my work but the end was cut short by rain and there was quite literally no break. I left Rose Rage rehearsal to stand in the rain and not get to perform the final Tis Pity show and then the next night back into Rose Rage. It’s been a long time since I’ve done concurrent shows. I’ve been several people since then and there a few calcifications that needed to be broken away to switch modes.

One of them is the personal fight I’ve had to be more selfish in my performance choices. Democracy is a political system not a proper methods of art creation and I have been too democratic and team oriented in my personal artistic meandering. In my desire to be a team builder and consensus forger I too often have forgotten to raise my own voice and toss my ideas into the ring to be part of that creation. I was much better about that in Tis Pity and the show was stronger for it.

My role in Rose Rage requires a different tension. There are a fistful of players in Rose Rage that function as body movers, fighters, rogues, ruffians, peasants, Messengers (No. 4?) and assassins (SPOILER!). The tension is that these roles are small and almost textless but require the same sort of focus, intent and energy that York, or Cade or Margaret do. Why? Because the fringe roles are the world of the play and when Cade or Edward or Margaret turns to an attendant or a soldier they need to be met with… something.

Here’s where choices and instincts matter.
The first choice is whether or not you need to be invisible. When carrying off {SPOILER} at the end of scene 23 I need to be engaged in the scene so when the testing audience member checks I’m involved or not (and they do) I am but other than that I don’t “appear” until Edward needs something (someone) cleaned. I equate this with Upstairs Downstairs sort of invisible servants making sure coasters appear under glasses like magic.

The non-invisible choices come when those one-off ruffians and messengers provide the tension for the Named or deliver outside world exposition. In the Jack Cade scenes the rebels provide the push and pull that keep the scene active until Outside Forces meddle, we are effectively the negative space that defines Cade. We need to give him that push and pull or he’s simply delivering text. How do you push, how do you pull? When do you let him have eye contact? When do you dodge?

Messengers have the chance to ping a scene and change the energy directly. Enter with low energy and bad news and it can be a trap door for a scene, dropping the Named into despair and making them fight out again. Enter with high energy and good news and hypercharge the rest of the scene. Miss an entrance? Shoot the show in the face.

Laurence Pears as Jack Cade photo by Kristen Wrzesniewski

The other thing you need to be in these sorts of roles is production invisible. There is no benefit to casting you over casting a turnip in the (multiple) role(s) if you are requiring as much time from the production team as your leads.

I love the stretch of making my loud 250 pound self into a ninja. I love the challenge of feeling the rhythm of the scene and playing the one note I have in perfect time with it. And I get a sword!

Exhausted as I am it’s been a ton of fun so far and we haven’t even added the audience in yet.

I hope to see you soon.
(Good seats still available!)

Time is a blockhead

There are shows you survive through like 8th period Western Civ class… watching the clock and hoping that the teacher forgets you’re there. And then there are shows that you miss like summer camp.

You can be in good shows, you can do good work in shows, or you can do shows with good people. It’s rare that all three happen in the same production and when it does it’s awful hard to let those shows go. But here in the #SummerofVerse the next opening awaits and while a rained out finale is no way to go, go we must – time is a blockhead.

What did we learn from Tis Pity?

My goal going in was to focus on physical specificity.

  1. I can in fact build a character outside in.
    I made stance/gait/vocal choices for two of the three characters and filled the “heart” of them in once I was sure those choices made sense. The Friar never got the same treatment and so remained the least specific and most sort of actor neutral of the three.  He remained more an idea rather than a person and so never made it to likeable.
  2. Commit to the bit (not just the laughs).
    While rehearsing in small places I choose to have Bergetto enter and exit at full speed. I chose casinoin it on both a micro (it would be funny) and macro (and inject energy into the show) level. I had never visited the Cathedral of Junk and discovered in tech that our entrances and exits (due to sightlines) were VERY long. But committing to the same energy even though it didn’t pay off in laughs ever, did pay off in energy both for the show and for me. It would have been easier to beg off and make a different choice, but it would have made for a weaker show.
  3. Be careful not to overlook storytelling.
    Bergetto went over pretty well. Big laughs – big sympathy… but along the way the second Bergetto scene (1.4 : ttp://goo.gl/lFrnb) stopped being funny. Over the first weekend I realized how much the shtick of Bergetto was running over facts the audience didn’t know yet and the relationship building with Donado. Slowing down enough to make sure that the story got told was spiking the laughs, but paid off later in the repetition of themes in the letter scene and in the increased investment in Bergetto just in time for his death. Trust the story. Tell the story.
  4. Stock characters are never stock.
    The basis of all three of the characters I played in Tis Pity are stock. The Vigilant Moralist, The Innocent Fool, and the Hypocritical Churchman.  Like any stew you begin with stock and then keep adding. Bergetto’s innocence in the actual discovery of each moment and the utter guileless joy in…. everything (especially the wench sale in Parma). The Friar’s non-hypocritical religion and honest desire to save everyone -  body and soul, and the Cardinal’s pure disdain for the backwater he is nuncio to all bring specificity to the stock exoskeletons they are framed from. 
  5. Never Underestimate the Power of Liking Your Team.
    When you are happy at work you work reflects it.

    Every time.

    I knew half of these folks before being cast but had only worked with one of them. Once I discovered I could trust these strangers to not embarrass me, crawling under the hood with them and making this bizarre blood opera work was a joy.

    When our final night was washed out I was heartbroken. Not just because I didn’t get to say goodbye to these characters but because being in the moment with actors committed to the scene, the story, and the show rather than unspooling their Oscar reel or even just getting through it is rarer than it should be. When you’re contending with less competent or committed coworkers you have to spend some of your time, energy, and focus in rehearsal and during performance helping them make good. You will never be giving everything you have simply to your work. The luxury of focusing on my work and knowing that they would handle theirs without being precious about it was remarkable. I’m going to miss the hell out of this cast and team.

We shall have time
to talk at large of all, but never yet
have incest and murder have so strangely met.
Of one so young, so rich in nature’s store,
who could not say Tis Pity She’s a Whore?

The Voice

Nothing is more certain in those pursuing any field with serious intent than that a nagging voice that lives in the back of their heads telling them over and over again what a failure they are.

I asked on Twitter:

and got the requisite sort of support that social media often offers.

I have a pretty healthy self-image. For a lot of people the idea that I can even hear the failure voice is laughable. While I hesitate to speak for the entire artistic universe, I feel pretty secure speaking for me and you know when I hear that voice most often?

When I’m the most successful.

This comes up because I try to answer honestly when people ask “How Are You?” and at Rose Rage rehearsal the other day when Liz Fisher asked I had no answer but: really great. I am in the midst of what is the longest sustained run of success in my life, personally and theatrically. I am doing work I’m proud of in productions worth inviting people to, I’m working with people I’ve really looked forward to working with, Messenger No. 4 had a great debut for a project that I think will have legs for quite a while, and for the first time in maybe ever I can say I’m a better actor today than I was a year ago.

The cost of that is of course that I am worn to a nub. I am tired physically, mentally, and emotionally. What happens when you’re no longer taking peak care of yourself? The brain chemicals get real dicey. You start hanging out in shadier and shadier mental neighborhoods and you start listening to shaggier and more harmful voices.

How do you get back (get back – get back) to where you once belonged?

I got a raft of great replies on Twitter:

They break down like this:
1. Food. Especially comfort food.
2. Friends.
3. Alcohol.
4. Other art.
5. The next project.

The wisdom of crowds says: take a break to recharge with food you like and friends to give you context.

What is YOUR solution?

Once More Into the Breach

I am up to my neck in revenge tragedy, fully immersed in the schlagobers und blud of Tis Pity She’s a Whore for 7 Towers Theatre Company at the Cathedral of Junk. [Good seats still available!] The show is roughly three metric tons of Pixy Stix worth of fun to do, the wind sprint of playing the Friar and Bergetto in our Act 1 being some of the most fun I’ve been allowed to have on stage. The entrances at a full gallop and the lightning costume and character changes are the sort of challenges you beg for.

I have been performing regularly enough in the last 18 months or so to recognize some things about my needs as a performer and to have begun cobbling together a preshow process for myself. I firmly believe in the repeatability of a performance. The discoveries and moments need to be fresh every night, but an audience buying a ticket on Friday shouldn’t be seeing a radically different production than they get on Saturday night. For me this means getting myself into a similar place for takeoff every night. It’s not just superstition – promise.

1. Context – Place
I need to get myself into the space. Remove variables. The more I know about the space the less I have to think about it during the show. The variables change depending on which space I’m in. The Cathedral of Junk is an outdoor venue so it means walking all of my entrances and making sure the pathways they are on haven’t changed, or haven’t become slippery… make sure there are no loose rocks on the SR corner where I do the 3 Stooges clown stop or that that the corner of the up-center platform isn’t any slicker than last night.

“That’s the stage manager’s job”.

The SM has a general safety mandate. The corner of the platform being slicker than last night isn’t necessarily about safety it’s about movement. You are responsible for knowing how the space is playing today just like a golfer is.

2. Context – People

I check in with everyone. Every single person who’s a moving part of the show, cast and crew. Talk with them about their day, about last night’s show, about how they’re feeling. and this sounds a little creepy, but make physical contact. Touch on arm, fist bump, hug, toss ‘em over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes and use them for a physical warm-up… whatever.

If the top of the show is a fixed point, you’re all coming at that point from a slightly different angle every night. Be aware.

3. Context – Self

I am not a fan of group warm-ups but I need something for me in terms of body, voice, and focus/show review. For something as vocal strenuous as Titus I do a full vocal warm-up for resonators, pitch and diction, for something as vocally light as Tis Pity I focus on warming up for diction (I have lousy consonants).

I check in physically. I have feet straight out of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream so I have to be aware if they are hurting at all and if that’s going to alter my movement. If there anything else that’s going o effect blocking? Is my core energy normal? Is it spiking? Am I hydrated enough to get through the first act without dry mouth?

Where’s my focus? Am I mentally in the space? Is the day weighing on me? or something personal? I usually run my monologues to get into the text and let those things go. For Tis Pity I also have the luxury of running the lines of first scene of the show before go just to get the motor idling.

It seem like a lot of fiddly work but all in all it’s about 15 minutes of work that helps triangulate me for the show and lets me worry about acting and not the rest of the mechanics.

How do you prep for a show?
What warm-ups do you do?
How do you get yourself anchored in the space?

While we wait…

We’re in a holding pattern on a few things before I write out  the final post-mortem on Messenger No. 4 (and get myself a tattoo) so I’d like to get a jump on our next little thing.

It’s going to be a minute or two until we get back to a full production… though nothing like the break between Orestes and Messenger No. 4. While we’re saving our pennies for whatever the next Major Node in our progression and Will does rewrites on M4, we want to stay active in smaller ways and work with even more folks we’ve never met before.

For those of you who came along at some point later than the winter of 2008 (so – most of you) Cambiare’s initial offering as a stand alone company was Transformations, a design as performance piece based on the poetry of Anne Sexton

IMG_9783-2 and created by like 734 women (Will and I helped). It was pretty good,  it was almost even attended! But other than the reading of Caryl Churchill’s 7 Jewish Children for World Theatre Day we haven’t paid any attention to (the creative output of) women since then.

It’s really not intentional, we’ve been doing original stuff mostly and you’re not part of the team. But we’re gonna get us an education now.

Ladies, we want to read your plays.

Now understand that there’s nothing on the table. Maybe not even a staged reading.  We’re not in a position to make any promises. Our goal is to 1.) be in a more education position when we get to a such a point 2.) be in a position to advocate for capable women writers when friends ask about texts the way I brag about Marisela Orta and Callie Kimball now. 

I understand if that’s not enough payoff for you. I wish you well. But if you like casinos in Oregon smart folks reading your work even if they’re not going to risk ten thousand dollars and a year of their life on it we’d love to hear from you.

We’re going to cap submissions at 50. We all have jobs and we don’t want a dead pile. We will read everything we get.

The Call:

  • We are looking for completed scripts from women of any age.
  • Make it a .pdf (be platform agnostic)
  • No character limit
  • No style limit.
  • No length limit.
  • Send it to Submissions at cambiareproductions.com
  • We make no commitment and neither do you, we won’t do anything other than read your script (and talk about it at Trudy’s) without your permission.

I know this is sort of weird call but.. well.. it can’t hurt to ask.

There’s Always a Choice

Those who operate in near-Travis orbit will hear me repeat phrases and motifs repeatedly as I hammer out a life’s philosophy before I die. “All we have is time and people” for instance. Or lately there’s been a lot of “design for your budget dammit, don’t design as if you had money and build halfway”. On-line it’s a gentle thrumming of “the repetition of asynchronous communication drives me crazy” and #neverbedark and being an advocate and talking about what’s good.

I understand that I’m repeating myself and I promise it’s not some sort of crazy-uncle disease where I just keep telling the same stories over and over again. Consider it me getting off book for The Show. And forgive me for another recurring theme: my repetition of the fact that I don’t have a career. I’m trying to figure out what that means to me and for me.

As a long time generalist I don’t really fit anywhere. It is after all a system made of specialists (on the paid side). But more to the point, only the work qualifies you for the work, and frankly I haven’t done enough to qualify me for anything. I also am unwilling to give up my security for an unpaid internship at this point in my life. That choice limits on-ramps to the paid universe.

Kate Powers asked:
Do you feel like it’s too late for you to dive into a position at an institutional theatre? (assuming that path interests you)

The answer is

Of course I feel that way,
of course it’s not too late, and
I haven’t invented the position and institution that I will be part of yet.

I am not the me that will be hired somewhere yet.
The me that is ready will have 51% answers to 49% questions.
The me that is ready will have an answer to “what do you want?”
The me that is ready, in knowing what it is I want, will be ready to sacrifice something for it.

I believe that the best fit for me will be in an umbrella or ASO type institution that advocates for new work and new work creators. That position will come about as a result of work that I initiate on my own in support of my desire to advance new work.

The obstacle is: That advocacy is rewarding for me. It is ultimately rewarding. But it isn’t fun. Part of my hesitance to move in that direction is that theatremaking is still fun. The idea of giving that up to advocate for others still rankles. It harkens back to my days at the Exit Theatre guarding the doors while others made art.

That’s the sacrifice I’m afraid to make.

There is a place for me in the machine. But that place isn’t as a theatremaker it’s as an advocate and I’m not ready to leave Neverland just yet.

God Bless the Child…

Cambiare’s next production (exact dates pending) is In Pursuit of Childhood. It’s already in it’s 3rd incarnation (as proposed it was called Lunchroom Gods and featured yet MORE mythology!) and beginning the plunge from mine and Will’s brains through the filter of a cast and into reality.

Will and I brainstorm pretty fluidly at this stage. We take an idea, walk it to a conclusion, ask it a few questions, and move on. Sort of the way all the cautious (i.e. smart) kids took to a Choose Your Own Adventure with a finger marking each outcome so as to avoid dying or becoming an ant.

A lot of the specifics of the piece will depend on the cast and the improvisations they create, but as a starting place we plan on assigning each of the cast members a characteristic to build their character from. Something stock to give a foundation the (approximate) sixth graders we’re looking for local superstars to build. A sort of kiddie commedia.

Bandying around the sorts of characteristics it would be fun to see folks try on leads for the more introspective participants (yeah alright both of us) to think about where we would have fit in the group. What would my “stock characteristic” have been?

How about small? Very small.

Sixth Grade Graduation

Yes that’s actual sixth grade graduation.

I hadn’t yet discovered cynicism, had only the rudimentary control of sarcasm that all sixth graders have, I wasn’t the class clown, Peter Ivas was. I was smart, but wasn’t the smartest kid in the class, one of the girls was (my money is on Jodie Shafer, but any of Jodie, Nevart, or Megan could have been number one). I was still very unsure of myself only having spent 3.5 years with my family. So I hadn’t become the arrogant know-it-all of high school that fed into the arrogant know-it-all insufferable loudmouth of adulthood.

So I guess I’m going to have to stick with quietish nerd. It’s not where I ended up, but it is where I was…

How about you? What Stock Kids Movie Type were you?