I am on a journey, as are most people. My path splits: becoming who I am destined to be, and also sharing the truth of where I have been. I AM TRAVELING TO ME.
I haven't had a bird in a while. My last pet LOVE passed away weeks before I left for Undergrad at MSU. And ever since, I swore I would never have another pet. Or at least one that resembled him. Alas, no Sammy version 2, but now I will venture off and purchase a Canary Winged Parakeet. It doesn't look like my beloved Sam, and so I have no qualms with getting it. Tomorrow, my choice may become a reality. Tomorrow I shall have another love. Tomorrow I dub, either Sparty or Boston (and yes, I will teach him how to speak with an authentic accent). Tomorrow, my life with change, again -- for the better, because I am in love with this little green friend. We have a future together -- both he, and I.
Above, is the infamous Degrassi Google+ Hangout session that took place today, 2/26/13 at 5:00pm. Before it even began, I was trying to remain calm on camera, although I was about to have a mini heart attack, because my laptop microphone had chosen NOT to work. After all the discussion that was done on my Facebook, Twitter and Blog, just as the chat was about to start -- SILENCE from my end. Yet, I held my composure, and waited until I found the solution. Never having done a Hangout session, I was unaware of the microphone situation -- epic FAIL on my part. Good thing I figured it out just as the chat was starting. I had my questions already written out, but I would have had to type them, just in case. But at the last minute my sound came on, and (you'll see) I was excited to hear their reaction. *I can be found second from the right, or fifth from the left -- below of the screen.*
Leading the Hangout were three amazingly talented people: Stefan Brogren (Producer/Actor/Director for Degrassi), Ramona Berckert (writer for Degrassi) and Abby Ho (guru at Degrassi's Epitome Picture). Joining in on the session, besides myself (@klayster), were four other Degrassi fanatics, whom you can find on Twitter: @JaimieGallant @karydegrassi @Miranda_Kasherv and @ashleyshimski. I honestly can say it was a beyond fantastic experience to be part of. Of course I had already made a complete list of questions I wanted to ask, and gratefully I was given the chance to ask some of the more important on my list.
Just to give everyone a heads up, the questions I asked were:
1. What made you decide Cam was to be the character with the suicide storyline, as opposed to Craig, who dealt with mental illness in the prior seasons?
2. Are there any past Degrassi storylines you would have liked to continue? I.E., What happened to Paige's HIV results, as it regards to her being with Griffin?
3. Will there ever be a Degrassi Mini with Jack as a student at Degrassi?
** I had many others, but thankfully some were asked by the other hangout crew members.
Being that I am an MFA student studying Writing For Stage & Screen, it was indeed helpful to hear the stories of how Stefan, Ramona and Abby found their footing in the film industry. Not to mention their take on writers block, challenging yourself to just write, even when it's just a few sentences -- good or bad, and never giving up on what you believe you should be doing. I love hearing what people in the business have to say, because it gives perspective of why one needs to work hard: nothing will come easily, and you need to build your experience/resume, before going after a big break.
I had a fun time chatting with my fellow Degrassians, and listening to their stories of what Degrassi means to them. I felt at home during the entire session. I thank everyone for their sincerity and trust in one another, to make this one of the best (The Best, in my opinion) Degrassi Google+ Hangout sessions! And the impromptu "Whatever It Takes" singalong was epic! I look forward to many more episodes of Degrassi (until it "blows up" -- Stefan's words, not mines), and my new found Degrassi quintet, which is thanks to Epitome. :-p
I will be posting a more in depth blog, in the next few days, so that I can go into further detail of what I took from the entire chat.
Well, if watching an amazing Oscars 2013, wasn't great enough -- I recently received an e-mail about being part of something that has already changed my life, and it doesn't even take place until tomorrow evening. Growing up there were only a few non Disney or Nickelodeon television shows I was intoxicated with: My So-Called Life, Vicar of Dibley, and 7th Heaven. The other show being Degrassi. I would have to say that show made such an impact with me and my outlook on life. Though My So-Called Life (MSCL) was a close second to being that defiant show for me, it related more towards my older two siblings. I was watching a show that I was invested in, yet because of the age gap (my sisters and the show itself), I needed to find something more relateable. Thus, Degrassi. I can't lie and say I was enamored by the old Degrassi Junior High or Degrassi High seasons as I was and am still with Degrassi The Next Generation (DTNG) and now, Degrassi. I was a fan, but when DTNG made its rounds to my television screen, I was perplexed with why it had been so long for American viewers to realize what substance they were missing. Yes, MSCL was amazing, but it only lasted one season, and not a complete one at that. It was, in my opinion, American shows had been lacking important material that touched the core of its audiences, and for me it took a non-American show to reach my core. Seems to still be that way. I still watch Degrassi. I'm even proud to say, I will continue to support the show and watch it, until it goes off air (which I hope won't be for a while).
My exciting news needed a preface, which is what I briefly discussed, above. That being said, tomorrow is a major deal for me! I will be partaking in a Google+ Live Hangout session with both Degrassi Producer, Stefan Brogren (aka Mr. Simpson) and Degrassi writer, Ramona Barckert (most notably for season 12's suicide storyline -- " Bitter Sweet Symphony Parts 1 &2). I am tremendously excited, nervous and just filled with glee. My family, high school, undergraduate and graduate buddies all know how connected and borderline obsessed I am of the show, so tomorrow will be more than a big deal.
Tomorrow, either before or after the session, I will return with a new blog, letting everyone know how it turned out. But for now, I'm going to exit this blog, and get back to writing my questions that I would LOVE to get answered. I mean, this type of Amazeballz opportunity doesn't happen to just everyone. And it doesn't just happen everyday. But since it's happening tomorrow, and to me, I need to focus. Preparedness Meets Opportunity, right? Hey, anything could happen! ;-)
I sit, glancing out the window, which line the sides of my calming place. Streets, cars, houses and snow -- all partake my knowledge filled intoxication. I peer from behind my laptop. Cell phone charging, iPod resting, mouse connected, notebooks lined neatly, and a prominently displayed backpack which takes up the farthest side of the table -- trying to occupy my thoughts for words. The shelves reach for me, while the books plead -- "come frolic inside my tender spines . . ." The two lightly tanned brick pillars separate me from my wandering motives and intentions. I want to just be -- blissfully unaware of the ticking clock.
Unaware of the hours I have lost by finding myself trapped in a new world. A familiar world, but still new. I unknowingly stare out onto the roads facing my peripheral. I catch a man walking his dog, two men on paralleled streets, shoveling and throwing rock salt. And as the salt tossing takes place, the song on my playlist changes: a running soundtrack. Sort of an audio book. For some reason the taunts of the many books have now melted into a story burned inside my retina. I have breathed story into my once placated fascination of sheets of paper and untouched screens. Life now resides in the psyche of my wondering. The time to read is over. It is now time to write. Write about the adventures that I managed to observe without much movement. Write about the many lives intertwined: On a white page of tiny places.
This poem is one that was written a while ago (https://www.msu.edu/~claykyra/punished.htm). It was one of my many response to injustice. Particularly the injustice of self hate, as it deals with "dealing" with domestic abuse and other forms of pain. Because this "Punishment" still takes place, and it IS "Black History Month," I thought it appropriate to post this poem.
Punishment
Punishment is slaves, hanging from trees
Punishment is blood, dripping from your knees
Punishment, is the cuts you do to feel pain
You can't understand where they're coming from, unless you've felt the same
Punishment is being pushed down the stairs in front of your kids
Getting back up, only to be smacked back down
Anger in your mind, still Love in your heart
Never going to separate, cause the children's question of "why?" is just too great
Sticking around, punished awhile
Punished is what I want for that person
To feel pain, like he made you feel
To go insane, without knowing someone will be there
Punishment is "Being Alone," so without, your mind just forms doubts
Punishment is knowing there is nothing you can do
To make amends with the evil, you punish yourself too
Punishment is going through things, you shouldn't have to go through
So why are we being punished, for the things he's done to you?
Every time I listen to the above video/song (JJ Heller's "What Love Really Means"), I find new hope in my relationship(s). Especially the greatest one I have: with GOD. I find comfort knowing that a depiction of my faith, growth, trek, and hope, can be found within a song. A song . . . Seems like on most days I tend to listen to words that I want to help pull me through. I find the worry, wonder, perseverance and sacrifice in those storytellers, which give me insight as to what I have done. And what I long for. This song and its lyrics are all spoken in truth -- for that's the way to see yourself. That's the way I am trying to see me. So, to quote JJ, I am speaking to myself, when I repeat her words: "I will love you for you. I will give you the love. The love that you never knew . . ." I am trying to see others that way, too.
This letter was written almost 2 years ago, but took longer to compose. It was sent to Mariska, and until now, it has never been seen anywhere else. This is yet another look into what makes me, me. And the stories NEVER told. *Picture was taken between years of memory and loss. It was added later*
Dear Mariska Hargitay,
I am writing this letter to express how much I admire your support to the causes in today’s world, that touch so many lives. From your Philanthropies to charities and your ability to portray such a convincing character as Detective Olivia Benson on Law & Order: SVU, you always show such authority, conviction and truth to every facet that you tend to.
My name is Kyra. I am 23 and a Senior at Michigan State University, majoring in English with a Concentration in Creative Writing. I am also President of Sigma Alpha Iota International Music Fraternity’s Alpha Lambda Collegiate Chapter (here at MSU) and an actor/director/producer/set designer/playwright for Michigan State University’s Tunnel Of Oppression, which is very dear to me as well as the other positions that I hold.
I will be graduating this May and going into another area; without taking courses and that sometimes frightens me: the thought of leaving such a beautiful and helpful community. I guess what I’m trying to get at is, this university has been a great tool for me in my entire university career. It helped give me a chance to thrive academically and personally. It made resources possible, even when I didn't want them at the time.
My fright, it comes from suppressing anger and feelings, because I have always been that person that helps everyone and talks them through their problems, never discussing my own.
I am the youngest child of 17 girls and five boys (two sisters from my mom, whom I grew up with and the rest are half siblings), which means everyone is older. Therefore most of their children were older . . . When I was young, maybe around 4 or 5, I began getting molested by one of my older nephews, and at the time, the only thing I knew was that I was uncomfortable. They lived next door and somehow I knew I wouldn't get away from him. This happened for a while. A long while, and after time, I just put everything out of my mind and blocked it out.
I never told my family about those times, because I had tried blocking it so much. Many times I would forget what happened during those years, until something triggered it. When I was 12, the summer before entering high school, I went to visit my half siblings and their family at their house and I couldn't remember why I didn't want to be there, but my family went, and so did I.
I went to the basement to play board games and look at bikes with my younger nephews. And as everyone left, I felt at peace - Alone, without feeling suffocated. My older nephew came downstairs, quietly, and came up behind me and . . . It happened again, but this time I told. I told my mom and two sisters and they became upset. They approached my older half sister about her son. She said he was never there. She covered for him. His younger brother had to tell his mom he was there AND in the basement. Ever since, I couldn't trust them, nor ever wanted to be around that side of the family. And although I had told my family, it was buried and never again talked about. Maybe it was because I was embarrassed (mostly that), or that family secrets are just that, “family secrets.” Whatever the reason, I never mention it and always avoid conversations about those years. Or those people.
Does it always feel necessary pulling an All Nighter? When does sleep seem feasible? I often wonder . . . Many times I've stayed up late, trying to get a few more revisions in. Pacing. Trying to get the last few chapters read, highlighted and marked. Even trying to get my last break; multitasking; avoiding procrastinating. Still pacing. Running from my agenda. Stepping outside. Going for a walk. Getting in the car to drive -- just a short distance to a familiar location. Pacing my mind for what needs to happen. What should be taking place. What has to get done. I'm still awake? When the birds are sauntering in the treetops, stretching their wings and preparing their beaks to pucker a sound . . . I am still awake. Looking at the sides of the wall. Looking out the window. Waiting for the time on my clock to change. Pacing. Multitasking? Procrastinating? All of the above. And yes, still pacing; my mind traveling ferociously as if it were escaping its sudden fate -- blankness. But, alas, I guess it's time to avoid the clock and continue working. I'll post something later, once I'm suppose to be awake . . .
Third Semester of Grad School; MFA Life of a Creative Writing Major; Revising Stage and Screenplays. This is what Wednesday multitasking entails: Serious note taking, and revisions of previously revised material. Let's just say, hitting SEND is deadly! :-p This week I managed to get a multitude of work completed. So I am extremely ecstatic! Next up, revisions of what I just sent. :-o
I have to say, researching for one of my plays I'm currently writing has given me more inspiration to learn about my heritage (I hope you enjoy the above video I found on YouTube). Not that I was unaware of the magnificent strength in my people before beginning the research, but I still yearned for more knowledge of where I came from.
In order for my growth as a person -- or to direct this to others -- in order for someone to understand who they are, they should try and learn where they come from. Needless to say, school books do nothing to give truth to those people -- MY people. I, along with many others, learned from a young age what a "great man Columbus was." And even at a young age, just as I was skeptical of the Easter bunny, so was I about Columbus and his discovery.
Are we part of what people think? Or are we part of those missing links? And if those links are too difficult to decipher, then don't we still owe it to our ancestors to continue pushing their (our) stories? I think we should. I think we need to know who we come from. And although each of us are comprised of many people, we need to understand and accept those facts.
I AM A MULTIRACIAL PERSON. I LOVE MY HERITAGE(S). AND I WANT TO KNOW MORE.
I will continue to support and honor MY people. Why? Because my Native roots are stronger than those weapons used against my ancestors! I believe everyone has a chance to celebrate their culture, as long as we know the truth behind their stories.
We don't celebrate Black History Month by always focusing on slaves and murder, yet for some reason, Columbus Day takes place as if NOTHING EVER happened.
In history books (mind you it’s not actual “American” history) nonetheless, people are taught this tragic lie that we are made to believe; Thanksgiving, Christopher Columbus . . . It’s as if indigenous people appeared on a separate boat, and followed Columbus to shore . . . oh, and later on, they went for a walk, captured a few animals, and all came together and broke bread, as if it were the last supper. Mind you, for some, it was. Yeah, like that even makes any sense. But then again, you can do the calculation: How can an already inhabited land, whose people are native/indigenous, be discovered by a European, masking away as a pioneer of the Amerikas? And once you solve that, I’ll ask you this: If Columbus was there when our Native people were, then didn't he in fact, witness America, instead of discovering it?
Most people, who know me, know I am a political person, and I love to debate. I, however, never force my ideologies onto the next person, because it's not fair. I simply tell my thoughts, opinions, and facts, while encouraging others to form their own.
I'm back, once more, to free my thoughts -- this time there are no WARNING nor SPOILER additives. Just a poem and a picture that I created, in order to find peace in the nature which surrounds me. I LOVE nature, and am glad I was raised in a way that values it.
So, I happened to log onto my Facebook account, and decided to look at "winter" pictures. Needless to say most of my fellow Bi-coastal and East Coast buddies had posted many. But the one below (courtesy of Brian Gould) had to make my top 3 nature filled pictures. I felt it necessary to post. Looking at the trees, branches, and the silent homes crowding the streets, while engulfed in white powdery snow -- It made me feel a calmness. However cold it is, the snow and its surroundings are absolutely stunning.
"Unplugged . . ." "Bare . . ." "Stripped down . . ." These words all describe what happens when I write a song. Or any piece of writing for that matter. I decide on going into the vault of memories -- some others, but mostly mine -- and take a piece of what I can (remember), in order to find the reality.
I never understood why it was, or is easy for me to be that way on stage (present), but in person I can't be. I never understood until I really listened to my own music. And my Go-To-Music that gets me into writing mode. Most of is what some may call "emo," "alt-rock/pop," or classical -- but what I'd like to call, real life through song.
I get inspiration to continue writing and to dig deeper into my thoughts -- after I've set a playlist that becomes more emotional recall than easy listening. I begin to write. Yet most of my thoughts would never see the light of day (to some -- I guess I'm not a writer then). I continue to write, until I'm immersed into that world, and I can actually feel life inside the words. Strange, eh? But that to me is Stripping Down.
I imagine how it would be, if I could take that same writers confidence and utilize it as I converse with people. Don't get me wrong, I can be social -- I've been part of many social organizations and activities (even being head chair in most of them) -- but when it's just me . . . and no mention of organizations, jobs, music -- the go-to discussions, I'm lost. I'm beyond stage fright, and I'm not even performing. Or am I?
I guess, looking at life, that's somewhat a performance too. Some of us have to fake it till we make it. Some of us have to bare it. And then some of us just write -- sing -- live through our music -- because that's the only way we can really strip down.
*Spoiler Alert - The picture below may not be suitable for everyone*
So many things can make you dredge up the past: faces, a smell, a picture, a sound . . . a thought. And when you come face-to-face with that emotion, it can often be too difficult to erase. Been there, done that. Reminders are more than just an alert from a calender -- telling you it's the anniversary of something you'd rather forget. Maybe the reminder is to try and forget -- putting your energy into something else more time consuming. Whatever it is, reminders can also be a trigger.
I must say, placing this picture (taken a while back) in my blog was beyond one of the most impacting, yet extremely terrifying moments I've had to overcome. Just as the following poem that leads after (will be posted soon).
I'm such an enclosed person, that I never discuss my own emotions -- never wanting to be bothersome. Most of my friends come to me to vent, but I never let it go the other way. I'm there -- a bouncing board of ideas as to what to do -- how to stay calm -- how to breathe -- how to be positive. Why hasn't that worked for me? Why, now, must I write about the past? Well, because it just seems to continue bringing its way back into my present being. And I'm secretly hoping it never makes it to my future.
Yes, I've tried to kick the habit of being my own psychiatrist -- prescribing my own remedies for unwanted thoughts -- Still trying. Yes, I've gone days, weeks, months even, without resorting to those habits. But just as one small whiff of odor can set one into a tail spin, so can one unblocked and blurry image.
Moment by moment -- that's what happens. I don't see myself as a person venting. However, now, I see myself as a person FINALLY being able to speak. And I hope that in time, I can speak about other moments.
If you haven't noticed, there always seems to be quite a gap between my posts. I've been trying to put my thoughts onto the white space more frequently -- besides what I write for school. I'm getting there . . .
Most of my time is spent trying to dominate the multitasking and perfectionist side of my being -- which enables me to just focus on what I believe needs tackling the most. But with my newest blog, Traveling To Me: The Road towards Living (a Dream), I decided to capture each step -- my total process of getting things done -- even the harshest moments. *spoiler alert*
I will be writing some of the most personal journeys I have taken, am in the process of taking and that I am still in the midst of. But don't worry, not every writer or composer goes ONLY into the dark. There is always a ray of sun, somewhere -- lurking, beyond the dark forest in our minds -- those times when life seems bleak, and something pushes towards that breaking point . . . Push back! There IS a way out. I am going to try and NOT fright myself from talking about those moments. And of course, the positive ones too.
Maybe in the next post I'll write about what made me want to become a writer (of all things: music, poetry, stage, screen, essays; stories). So, get ready, there will be posts galore -- sooner than you can imagine. And this time, I'm writing from my core.
I'm going to leave you with this -- Brain-Matter-Double-Exposure- Song that inspired this blog. To get you in the realm of learning more about me and my writing.
