Skip to main content


This is also from an older draft post. I've since been part of a show, an extraordinary experience I still have to blog about but I'd thought I'd still post these earlier thoughts.

I love writing so just having a story out their in print or online and getting commented on I thought was enough but as I was recently told by an actor, when your story is told on stage its a completely different experience because of the interaction between the actors and the audience.

In this play I definitely felt the chemistry. Now and days and even back in the old days it was so hard to make a motion picture. To tell one of our stories would cost thousands of dollars and an experienced Hollywood budget and staff. At CASA 0101 what you need is an idea and some ganas to make your story into a play. And best of all its a community event with a very grass roots feel.

Comments

  1. I love this idea. Most people would not think to turn their stories into plays but I think that it is brilliant. It would have more of a downhome root feeling to it. Thank you for posting.


    My homepage | Online PhD UK Programs

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Detained In The Desert

I went to see Josefina Lopez’s world premier play, “Detained In The Desert”. Josefina, known for her popular Real Women Have Curves, was vacationing in Arizona when SB 1070 was passed. She was unable to go to protest rallies held that night because of prior family commitments but Josefina had it in her heart to do something.  In the five years between 2003 and 2007, there was a 40 percent increase in crimes against Latinos. It’s no wonder considering the proliferation of “hate talk” that spews off the radio, TV, and internet and aims at infuriating the masses. In a climate saturated with negative propaganda, fear mongering, and increasing violence, what one would consider a random act of violence is in reality not so random after all. When we create a society that is so pitted against one another, our chance encounters become unavoidable collisions between unsuspecting individuals caught within the biome of the conflicted society in which we live. It’s like walking into a room with se…
11 comments
Read more

Life Hack: DIY Bleacher Seat Cushion

One of the staples I keep in the truck of my car is my DIY bleacher seat cushion.
Its a flat thin recyclable bag with a folded picnic blanket inside.
This DIY is so simple, it seems too common sense to blog about. But I will since it phases me why anyone would buy one of those foam seat cushions I see on sale at sporting good stores and events. This one is on sale for $15!

My DIY bleach seat cusion is way more functional than a manufactured bleacher seat cushion which has only one purpose.

Having a blanket conviently stored inside makes it multifunctional.

 You have a blanket on hand for those chilly early morning meets. And any time we are at outdoor events with my mom or inlaws, I'm prepared for the evening cold for them as well.
 A shade for the afternoon sun.
Fold it length wise for a multiple seat cushion, to reserve extra seat space, or to spread out your legs.
(As a track mom of three sons, I can been on the bleachers for hours. I'm writing this blog from the bleachers.…
Post a Comment
Read more

Went to Memoir-Writing Workshop

I went to a memoir-writing workshop recently. I don't want to be the girl who cries at the slightest thing but, in this case, I was. They asked the question: who told you, you can't write? We had to state our writing demons, and then write out the dialog between this inner critique and our retaliation to their remarks. Ultimately, it is only ourselves that can hold us back from our own dreams. But sometimes we've internalized the voices of others tell us that we can't.  I'd done this exercise before privately, in my own bed, in my own room, and in my own journal but never out loud. When we were done, we had to go around the table and read the dialog. I was picked the first to go. Before I could even let out a word, my throat choked up, my face turn red, and my eyes began to water. I read and cried. We all cried. I thought I had left all that hurt hidden away on paper somewhere, and there it was strangling me. I can't begin to describe that whole situation with …
4 comments
Read more