This is the second of a short series of posts about my upcoming play, The New Colossus. (Here's the first.) In the spirit of gratitude and reflection, I'm considering some of what it took to stage this sucker (from a playwright's perspective). We open this week! Generally, plays require an enormous amount of collaborative and collective… Continue reading On the brink of taking flight
Author: Tamara
I am a creator, teacher, coach, collaborator, podcaster, actor, playwright, theatre-maker, and mom living in Durham, NC. I love ideas, and I love getting things done. In my own little ways, I aim to make the world a better place.
What’s the deal with the seagull?
This is the first of a few posts that I'm writing about my upcoming play, The New Colossus. Opening on May 19th! A tiny bit about The Seagull: Anton Chekhov wrote The Seagull in 1895, and it was performed a year later in Petersburg. In 1909, the play was translated from Russian to English. During the… Continue reading What’s the deal with the seagull?
Spring time update
Seven months ago, I had a(nother) baby. So, I'm a mother of two now. Mind boggling. Since I haven't posted in a year, I thought I'd take a quick minute to post an update while the baby naps and before I pick up the seven year old from school. Parenting, yes. My sweet spouse and… Continue reading Spring time update
Waking up to baby
Early last year, after a long string of miscarriages and unexplained infertility issues combined with my ever-advancing maternal age, I accepted that I wouldn't be giving birth to anymore babies. I wrote a post titled Baby Sarah which was an opportunity for me to acknowledge my acceptance (and sadness) as well as give voice to the… Continue reading Waking up to baby
Gratitude, journaling, and new horizons
For the last 15 months, I worked in the Duke University Hospital as the Literary Arts Coordinator for Arts & Health at Duke. During that time, I spoke with hundreds of people about journaling as a tool for self-care, creative expression, and legacy-building. I worked with staff, patients, and caregivers, in large groups, small groups… Continue reading Gratitude, journaling, and new horizons
Baby Sarah
My daughter is telling everyone that I am pregnant with a baby girl named Sarah. (I’m not.) After the third person at her school congratulated me on this fictitious pregnancy, I asked her why she was telling people this. She replied, “Because it makes people happy when I say that.” Yeah. My daughter loves babies.… Continue reading Baby Sarah
Taking off the shirt
I've been thinking about an audition I had a few weeks ago — a fun group-audition focused on building ensemble, listening, playing, and following impulses (Yippee, my favorites!). It felt more like a workshop than an audition which left me feeling grateful, inspired, and relieved. The people in the room were super. It was fun. I’d… Continue reading Taking off the shirt
Conversations like coffee
“Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after.” Anne Morrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea My brain got stretched this week, and it was uncomfortable. My head ached. I felt exhausted every night from the extra hard thinking I was doing — from trying to keep up with… Continue reading Conversations like coffee
A discussion about death over orange juice
"You'll die first." My five year old daughter said that to me about two weeks ago. It was 8:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I was leaning into the fridge reaching for some orange juice. She was between bites of her cereal, sounding chirpy and chipmunky as she usually does. "You'll die first." Do not… Continue reading A discussion about death over orange juice
Meta Mette Metta
Last Saturday was the closing performance of Little Green Pig’s production of Celebration. (Below you’ll see some links to reviews for this production, fyi.) I miss the show. I miss the generous, talented people associated with it. I miss my character, Mette. Celebration was a theatrical roller coaster ride seeded with major family dysfunction and deep… Continue reading Meta Mette Metta
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