Break a Leg

So, because it's Thanksgiving, because Break a Leg is over and we're slowly putting the pieces of Lurker together, because I have the power to post blogs and because I think this is an important one, I'm going to take today to write a quick story about my old college drama teacher.

I'll start like this.

In college, I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do. I was metaphysically shoved into writing when, in my first year and in my first class called, "Theater Workshop" the teacher asked if any of us had any scripts. It so happened that the summer prior, Dashiell and I had decided, after overdosing on Monty Python videos, that we should write and film some silly sketches.

And we did do that, by the way. And you will never, ever see them.

But I digress. I suggested I could theoretically do these sketches and do a sketch comedy show. He said okay. I said okay. I gathered Dashiell, Mint, that guy who hates Mimes in Episode 1 and a couple of other close acting friends and we performed the silliest, haphazard sketch comedy show ever. There were five of us and we were called the Overpopulated Quartet -- still the best name I've ever come up with. After we did it, the strangest thing happened -- everyone loved the hell out of it.

And then, all of a sudden, I became a writer. It started slowly, I decided to try and write a one-act, called Courting 101, and I did, and we performed it (Dustin, Daniela and I) -- and that also, was a big hit. Then, my most successful play as a writer -- I wrote a show called 11 Variations on Friar John's Failure -- a satire of Romeo and Juliet. We performed it  and yes, it too was a big hit. 

Where does Carla come into this?

Carla was the head of the drama department but was gone the first year I showed up. When she returned, she -- well, it's fairly easy to describe her. She's an ultra-liberal red-headed hyper-intelligent super-contrarian who takes devilish joy in riling up anyone who she thinks needs riling up. And, by the way, to Carla, that's everyone.

When she showed up to College of Marin, I think -- and I could be wrong -- I think she decided to make me her project. I had written and people considered me a writer then but I didn't really consider myself one, even with 11 Variations getting published, I just wasn't convinced I was ready to make the jump into such a risky endeavor.

I was Carla's project. That meant that she gave me unprecedented powers in the drama department -- two full weekends to run my own play, having the school actually do 11 Variations with a professional director as part of their full season run, and much, much more. It also meant that she would do her best to slowly drive me crazy. She would teach me, give me writers to read, give me pages full of notes on my acting, on my writing, on my directing -- and she would give me huge compliments and then tear me to shreds.

In retrospect, it was pretty enjoyable. It was also the first time that a teacher had ever taken such a direct approach with me. Carla did that with a lot of students but, and again, I could be wrong, but I think there was a moment she decided that she'd either make me famous or send me into a mental asylum.

She was also, by the way, my improv teacher. So, if you think I'm funny when I go off the cuff, which in Break a Leg I do quite a bit, you can thank her.

You can also thank her for making me a writer. Aside from her personal stakes in me, Carla also did a one-woman show in San Francisco called Wedding Singer Blues. Carla, by the way, is an amazing Jazz singer along with being a great actress. The show was about her basically diving headfirst into a career that everyone tried to tell her not to pursue. The lesson of the play, in short, was -- doing what you love and failing is much better than never trying at all.

It's a simple lesson but when I saw it, at that age, in a very indecisive time of my life, I decided, I think, almost at that moment, that I'd officially be a writer.

So here I am.

That's a very long intro to a very short conclusion. What's the conclusion? The conclusion is that Carla was, roughly a year ago, been diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gherig's Disease. It's a terrible, fatal degenerative disease that basically shuts down your muscles one by one. It especially sucks for Carla because, as she likes to point out, she "hates Baseball."

Carla is young, in her forties. Carla was spry and energetic and had a domineering, loud personality. And now, even in a wheelchair, she still does. Except now, the way she is living her life is so utterly inspiring that everyone around her has trouble putting it into words. It's inspiring because she's not trying to be inspiring, it's inspiring because through her blog and through her every day interactions, she talks about what she's going through in the most honest and hilarious way. It's inspiring because she's kept everything that makes her Carla -- aside, of course, from her legs.

Those don't work very well anymore.

Did I mention that Carla has the most wicked sense of humor ever? Her current music tour is titled, The Grateful Not Yet Dead Redhead Tour. Her jokes on stage are so dark that even when you know her, there's a quick moment after she says something, like, say, "The good thing is, global warming is your problem now, bitches!" -- you feel like someone just slapped you across the face while grinning wildly and staring you in the eye.

So, in long, it's Thanksgiving and I don't really celebrate it because I'm not from this country and I never personally killed any Indians. It's Thanksgiving and you're supposed to give thanks and I've given thanks to many other people over the years that Break a Leg has been around so, I want to, today, give thanks to Carla for mentoring me, for pushing me to be where I am and for being inspiring in every moment of her life. If I succeed, a large part of that is because of her.

Last night, during her potentially last show, she ended the set by saying, "This is the truest song ever written" -- and then sang, What a Wonderful World.

It's cheesy, right? Even she'll admit it. It's cheesy. But, damn -- it was a beautiful, inspiring, yes, wonderful moment. Maybe Louis Armstrong shoulda written her in the song.

So, that's about it. Thanks, Carla. We all love you. Happy Thanksgiving.

-Yuri

P.S. Everyone should read Carla's blog and buy her CDs (I'm going to come back and link to her CD-buying when she gives me the link.) READ THE BLOG HERE!