Ryan Performs in Places: Little Voice

If I wanted to, I could stand and breathe in the sunny air, letting it fill my lungs with the cool ripple of the sheer water's surface. I could open my body to the space and sing so loud it would fill the whole bay with notes and words and soul so it would fill the whole bay all the way to the mountains in the distance and reverberate to the heavens. But for now I'm a tiny voice sitting on the rocks, waiting for an opportunity.

Peace out!

Hell to the No - Fighting for the Arts Scene

This is an essay I recently wrote for my Expository Writing class. Hope you enjoy and I hope it calls you to action in some capacity whether it's activism, drawing a picture, singing a song, dancing a sparkly dance, writing a play, or performing on the street.

Hell to the No - Fighting for the Art Scene

            The Laramie Project is a play based on a compilation of interviews performed by playwright Moises Kaufman and the Tectonic Theatre Project. It centers around the city of Laramie, Wyoming and the vicious murder of the openly gay, local college student Matthew Shepard. The play was groundbreaking when it premiered in the early 2000s, is a major part of the American dramatic lexicon, and in the Spring of my senior year of high school would be coming to our humble theatre department.

            Needless to say, I was excited. To my blissfully youthful, theatrically growing mind, performing in The Laramie Project was like winning the Tony for Best Actor. I poured over the entire script, devouring it like it was fresh meat, like it would go bad if I didn't absorb it all in that instant. Once we finally received approval from the administration, a feat all in its own, we set to work adapting the script to fit into one act so we could take it to the Vermont state drama festival.

            After three months of rehearsal, and a sweeping win at the festival, we were ready to perform our creation to our own community, and it became my belief that EVERYONE needed to see this play. It was a necessity. To achieve my lofty goal, I came up with a brilliant plan to bring a camcorder into our final brush-up rehearsals, film segments of the play, and edit them into a kick-ass advertisement I would then play on a loop on this gigantic big-screen T.V. in the cafeteria during lunch.

            The first day of Plan Kick-Ass T.V. Advertisement was fairly smooth right up until the very end. From the designated "theatre kids" table which also included a few "band kids" we could spy a table full of testosterone-filled, redneck, back-of-the-woods, jockstrap-smelling football guys sitting right next to the T.V. Up until that moment, everything had been okay, but right at the end of the period the comments started flying.

            "What the fuck is this?"

            "Why do we have to watch this crap?"

            "Is this about some kind of fag?"

            And it all would have been okay, we would have been completely cool about the whole matter if they hadn't decided to get up and turn the T.V. off.

            Oh hell to the no.

            As I surveyed the cafeteria I noticed just how many members of the school administration and faculty were wandering around: quite a lot. And none of them; absolutely none of them were doing anything to stop the crude and vicious comments flying from the rednecks' food-filled mouths, or preventing them from physically silencing us.

            Right then, one of my best friends, and one of the lead women in our department, stood up. She stands about four foot, ten inches and has the voice of a cartoon Disney princess on helium, but she is scrappy and she was pissed. She marched past the beefy guys and flipped the T.V. back on, turning around to face the entire football team with an index finger pointed right at their noses.

            "Don't you DARE turn that T.V. off again!" she commanded. "I know all your moms, and I am NOT afraid to call them. You know, you could learn a lot from The Laramie Project."

            This confrontation is only one example of how my old high school executed several injustices against our arts programs. In my three years as a member of the prestigious Select Choral Ensemble group headed by our brilliantly talented and caring director, I witnessed several instances where the administration limited our budget so we couldn't purchase sheet music, professional outfits, or publicity for our concerts. They were completely unsupportive when we traveled to compete in various singing contests, and refused to announce our spectacular victories when the sports teams received top billing in assemblies. In some moments it felt like they weren't even treating our director like she was a real teacher. At the end of my senior year, the administration had pressured our director so hard and squeezed her and our Ensemble out so much that she finally gave up and quit. It's prejudice like that that makes me see how underappreciated and unsupported the arts are in our society, and that attitude starts in school.

            In the same year we performed The Laramie Project, a little show called Glee came into my life. Created by Ryan Murphy, Glee tells the story of a small-town high school glee club that perseveres despite the lack of support from the school system and their own personal struggles. Glee is basically a complete representation of my high school and every other establishment that puts the arts down. Every stereotype is depicted: the principal who doesn't want to fork anymore money over to the arts groups because it will detract from the sports programs slightly, the ultra-conservative teachers who refuse to see the benefits of the arts in people's lives and in our culture as a society, the peers who have adopted this negative view of the arts and artists themselves; automatically labeling them as "losers," and the little arts program run by a devoted teacher who persists in spite of everything.

            In an episode from season one, guest star Neil Patrick Harris plays a member of the school district looking to cut arts programs until he finds statistics which show the benefits of an artistic education and how the arts improve the lives and even the learning abilities of students. But it's not just Hollywood that's preaching the values of an artistic education. In an article from the December 1991 issue of Dramatics magazine, theatre professor, director, and author Louis Catron talks about how CEOs are attracted to theatre majors in their hiring process because they possess incredibly desirable qualities that trump even more qualified applicants. Some of these include communication skills, time-management and punctuality, confidence, independence, ability to work collaboratively, adaptability, and overall motivation. And yet it would seem these benefits aren't highly valued in our society despite the rigorous work and discipline that goes into an artistic education.

            At the University of Vermont I have to put in a total of 48 credit hours just for my theatre major. That's more hours than a pre-med student puts in at the undergrad level, and my classes are the furthest thing from easy. Along with my acting classes which are full of performances and serious training, I also have had to take several technical classes which have taught me how to use tools for construction, how present my work professionally, and how to operate complicated computer technology. I have also taken classes in dramatic analysis and theatre history which have taught me literature critique, how to do in-depth research, and more useful history than I'd ever learned in previous history classes. Last year I had to do a twenty page research paper on Spanish Renaissance playwright Lope de Vega along with theatrical conventions of the Spanish Renaissance. I became so interested and involved in that topic that I did the best research and wrote the best paper I think I'd ever turned out in my life.

            Despite all the proven benefits, testimonials, and shocking statistics, there is still so much discouragement in this country regarding the arts, especially the performing arts, from the harsh hierarchies in the halls of high school to the upper reaches of government. This is the government that established the National Endowment for the Arts but then in the early nineties denied funding to many influential and ground-breaking performances artists such as Karen Finley. Her shows brought about social consciousness of gender inequality and rape culture in the performance art atmosphere of the nineties. The Laramie Project shows audiences that problems such as discrimination, hate, and ignorance are issues that are still embedded in our society as our fantastic football friends showed us. Without artists such as Karen Finley and the Tectonic Theatre Project we would lose invaluable social tools that inspire thought and change for good, and we would lose our ability to point these issues out to audiences.

            We hear it all: we'll never get a real job, our lives are always going to be difficult, we'll be waiting tables for the rest of our lives, and so on and so on. The arts are completely undervalued because we are taught that they don't matter. Arts classes are "extra" and generally a waste of time, and anyone who enjoys and appreciates the performing arts are considered stuffy or "gay," and that's usually meant in the most derogatory way as possible. This is the time to stand up just like my friend did in the cafeteria, like the Glee kids do when they support each other in times of crisis, and like I do whenever I step out onto that stage and perform. We need to pat our weaves, take our earrings out, and pull our tap shoes off so we're ready to fight. Theatre kids are incredibly resilient even in the face of all the crap we have to hear about how pointless our dreams are because we know we're not going anywhere. There is this amazing drive artists have towards their work, a passion that thrives deep under our skin, and most of the time that art is the food that keeps us alive. As a basic survival instinct we have a fiery need to fight for our art.

            More than that, though, the arts make our lives better. They enrich our culture, entertain us, make us think, and stir up issues in society to create social change such as The Laramie Project which is so controversial it has sparked protests and rallies. If we don't fight for the arts, we would have no culture, and we would have no vehicle to continue the progress of humanity. Plus, theatre's what I love. It's what I'm good at. It's what makes me feel special, and I would be so sad without my showtunes to put me to bed at night.

Peace out!

WORKS CITED

The Laramie Project. By Moises Kaufman and The Tectonic Theatre Project. Perf. Denver Center Theatre    Company. The Ricketson Theatre, Denver. Feb. 2000.

"Dream On." Written by Brad Falchuk. Directed by Joss Whedon. Glee. Fox Broadcasting           Company. 18 May 2010.

What Theatre Majors Learn. 10 Oct. 2011. Milkin Quarterly: Milkin University. 22 Feb. 2012            

(It's) Hairspray!

Good evening! I've been on a bit of a hiatus from the blogosphere lately because things have been extremely busy here in Burly World. This past weekend was the wonderfully amazing run of Lyric Theatre's Hairspray which I was so lucky to be a part of. I was extremely excited to finally be performing the show after months of rehearsals, and especially to be performing on the Flynn Theatre stage in downtown Btown, but now that show is over I'm really missing the cast and those same people I've seen everyday for the past four months. Like I said, though, we had an amazing run. Our audiences were fantastic and the show was awesome.

Here's a little story from opening night:

I had two major quick costume changes in the show. They were super fast so I had a dresser backstage to help me. She helped me get my pants on while changing my shoes, and this time I was especially nervous because it was opening night. Major pressure. I get the pants on and I'm just zipping up the fly as my dresser pulls out my hot pink neckerchief. I lift my head just as she pulls it from her pocket and BAM! her fist meets my eye. My dresser has successfully punched me in the eye.

I start swearing profusely (in my head of course just in case my microphone was on), and I clutched my eye.

"I'm so sorry!" my dresser pleads. Bless her heart. She didn't mean to.


"It's okay..." I say as the music for the song starts. I have to come on extremely soon.


And this is how I know I'm a true theatre kid. The first thing I thought of when I got punched was not "OH MY GOD MY EYE COULD BE SERIOUSLY INJURED!" but rather it was:


"OH MY GOD MY EYE IS WATERING! MY MAKEUP IS GOING TO RUN!"


I rushed to one of my cast mates and asked her if my makeup was running. Thankfully it wasn't, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch.

I decided that my momma name in the show was Shirley. She had a pretty well developed character even though she was only on stage for about two minutes.

Opening night concluded with an awesome opening night party with tons of food and drink and wonderful company. The weekend ended with strike which we all helped out with, and while it was long it eventually got to the point where I was dancing with a mop to "Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing on the bare Flynn stage. Pretty successful.

Thanks to everyone who came out to see Hairspray! You made our show a tremendous success!

Peace out!

It Took Ovaries

This is what I did this past weekend:

It was one of the most amazing performance experiences I've ever been a part of. On Friday, performance artist and co-playwright Bobbi Ausubel came to Royall Tyler Theatre to teach our Playing With Femininity class (seriously the best class ever---we just spend three hours reading plays about women and experimental theatre pieces while talking about sex, gender, and political issues) her physical technique of exploring character through improvisation, movement, and vocal work, not necessarily through sense memory and "The Method." She explained to us how emotions are held within our bodies, and the only way to act is to unleash these emotions through physical engagement. It was the most natural and invigorating way to act and explore character than I've ever learned. I loved it, and I want to use it in every acting work I do from now on.

Saturday night was the workshop performance. We performed the scenes from the play we had worked on and then Bobbi held a discussion of gender themes and what it means to live a bold lifestyle. She explained how change can only happen if we have the courage to stand up for injustice in our lives, in our society. The audience was amazing, and I had never felt such a connection with the audience before. It was all a shared experience just as gender discrimination and oppression is a shared experience every human being faces. Then in the nature of the play, Bobbi invited members of the audience to come up to the mic and share their stories, women for a time when they were bold, brazen, or courageous and for the men to talk about a woman in their life who had an ovaries moment. Some of the stories we got were funny, some were extremely emotional, some were inspirational, and some were a little awkward. I even got up and shared a story from high school. We created such a community in the theatre that night, and we had an amazing time celebrating women and a bold life.

"High School Gauntlet"

Bobbi Ausubel explaining the project.

I shared a story!

An emotional end to the scenes. "Rana"

For more information about the play That Takes Ovaries, Bobbi Ausubel, or how you can host an open mic, check out http://www.thattakesovaries.org/.

Peace out!

Rain

The sidewalk glistens in a malaise of oil and rainwater,
But at this point it doesn't matter.
The beat of the music in my head crawls to my shoes which skip through the puddles, scraping water from the
Ground while I swing the umbrella from side to side.
The heavenly ointment unleashes in torrents from the clouds,
Baptizing me in absolute happiness.
Each droplet on my face is a splash of joy.
Each step I take is a thought of you.
As the rain embraces me, I smile a curious and wide grin,
And drink up the tears of the sky.

Sense Memory

I love, love, LOVE the fall weather hitting Vermont right now. It's like a cold and clear breath of life that takes your heart in its grip and transports you to worlds of memories long forgotten yet still reminisced about. Upon each stinging breeze rides an image of crinkling leaves, the smell of apple cores and pumpkin spice, or the scratchy feel of a wool scarf on the skin. The chill which takes root in the feet and travels up each individual vertebrae to each follicle of hair holds a physical bond to day trips through an enchanted forest and afternoons spent on train tracks. The taste of dust and the feel of grit between teeth is a flash back to dirt roads and the hidden groves to which they lead.

Each memory dances with the senses in a waltz that began at birth. Each physical presence individually linked to an emotion draws me back yet pulls me forward at the same time. While I muse over the events and the feelings of the past, I am still pushed forward by a thirst for more. I long for more emotion, more feeling, more of the "breath life," for the essence that makes me utterly human. We long for the memories in life because that is what draws us forward, the longing and desire for future memories. We beg for new smells, feelings, and images that will give us retrospect to the events of our past and bring our lives in a circle.

Stepping from the front door, the fall's evening zephyr energizes my lungs and my body, propelling me forward into the sunset's lighted shadow. The leaves hanging stiffly from the trees' branches sway and crumple as they draw near to each other in anticipation of what is to come. Drawing my scarf closer to my throat, I walk along the broad sidewalk with heavy footfalls. The clouds above seem to sway lightly, taking in the moment below. I clutch my books to my chest and keep walking, observed and observing...

My Everything Hurts

...and within a period of two days, I was packed up and moved out of my wonderful single in UHeights to the tiny double in Wills, but it's not all that bad. Somehow I found a way to take the lofted bed and fit Megan's loveseat under it. It created quite the batcave effect, which has been a pretty awesome addition to the room so far. I'm just waiting this week out now until Joe arrives on Sunday and school starts.

I'm so completely ready for school to start. Everything is in order, schedules have been made, books have been bought (In 14 different orders on Amazon as well as one from UVM.), and supplies have been organized. Megan and I just talked about how exciting it's going to be to pack up our backpacks Sunday night before  the first day of school. I could not be more pumped and ready to go. I'm also super excited about being a TA and doing Hairspray rehearsals.

These all came today.

I actually had quite the stressful day right before getting completely moved out and going home for the weekend. It began when I went to the UVM Residential Life office, like I was told to do, and waited for ten minutes at the front desk until someone came out into the lobby to ask me if anyone had been helping me. Since no one was, the woman went back in and got me the key to my room. Once I was packed up, I moved a bunch (basically everything I owned) to Wills. When I went to lock the door, however, the key wouldn't turn in the lock. After swearing profusely, I ran to the front desk of my new dorm where the office manager was just about to take off for the day. She got me the right key all the while wondering why ResLife gave me the wrong one and where they got it. Needless to say that key worked.

Then, when I tried to turn my computer (Bertha) on to see if there was wireless in my new dorm, the screen fizzled out and went dark. I screamed and raced to the Computer Depot in the Davis Center with my baby clutched in my arms. There they hooked her up to another computer and determined that the problem was probably physical, so I had to send it in to the company. After talking with a thickly accented Indian customer service representative for an hour, we determined that there was definitely something wrong but my warranty had run out. It was cheaper to buy another computer.

Moment of silence for Bertha...........


Now enter Marcus, my new computer, who is very sleek and runs with Windows 7. I'm hoping Marcus will serve me well. This is my first blog post with him, and it's working quite well. Thank you, Costco! (Yes, we got my new computer at Costco.)


This weekend I also got the chance to go see Chase's directorial genius in Hairspray at the Haskell Opera House. I really missed that place from last summer, and I especially missed Lissy (who was amazing in the show), Chase (who needs a Broadway stage, stat), and Kat (who continues to astound me with her stage managing abilities). It was great to see everyone and take in an awesome show.

It was weird to watch the show and then come back to Burlington to start rehearsing it. But rehearse we did. Matt and I have been carpooling to rehearsals and totally rocking them. Hope you can all make it to the show! There will be links up soon over in the right sidebar. ------------------->


In the end: my back, my neck, my arms, my abs, and my legs are killing me. The dances are hard and I was totally drenched in sweat on Sunday but it's totally worth it. I missed working this hard for theatre so much. I felt so broken from lack of theatre (yet again) after having it the whole time last summer, and having this opportunity to perform on the big stage at the Flynn is absolutely amazing. For people like me, and Matt, and Chase, and Lissy, and Kat, anything is worth it for theatre.


And sweat is worth it.


Here are some more pictures from Megan and my drive yesterday to the Champlain Islands. It was a lot of fun and we found some Vermont nut free chocolates!

Another highlight from this weekend:





Peace out!

Ryan Performs in Places: Music Hall

"Out There" from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Alan Menken

A freewrite I wrote yesterday for my Creative Writing class:

The concept of “art” means something different to everyone. It’s the emotion of something that brings art to life. When you create something that has an emotional impact on somebody or something, that’s art. It can be anything: dance, music, theatre, painting, sculpting, it could even be something as simple as a good dinner. Or for some art can be a sports game or a nice day. It is a moment, a simple, clear, and beautiful moment that sparks a heavy emotion. To me, life itself can be a high form of art. It’s God’s art in a way, because it (of course) sparks heavy emotion in all of us. But then again, what if art didn’t mean that to someone else? would that change the very concept and illusion of what art was. What if that painting wasn’t art? What if that chicken dish isn’t as beautiful as a Rembrandt or as thrilling as a hockey game? Then that would make art perceptive. Art would have to based on the individual’s perception on the world. That concept in itself is a thing of beauty, and therefore art. Here we find a cycle, just as precise and complex as the water cycle, but entirely based on the spectrum of human emotion and spirit. Yes, I mentioned spirit. For where does art exist if not the very soul of human beings? Where can art come from? Sure, there has to be some sort of logical, scientific explanation for where art comes from, some random synapse in the brain that triggers an emotional impact or the urge to create, to make, to do, to perform, to sing, to dance, etc. But what if…what if we just took a moment to ponder the wonderfully amazing idea that art can exist elsewhere. It can reside in a glorious tomb, womb, some word of like that…of the soul. Inside of the individual, there is a well of emotion that comes pouring forth from us, and that is where art takes hold. That is where art can capture the imagination. We see it in small children…how their imaginations can create friends and whole worlds. I remember as I child I could imagine that my whole backyard was an enchanted forest, and here I was an explorer of that forest, transcending the mundane of reality and delving into the fantastical. What is wrong with that? why can’t art explore itself in the reaches of humanity that scientists fear to tread? That is how art becomes us. It is the very meat of humanity. It is the very breath of humanity. One of my favorite theatre troupes is the Bread and Puppet theatre residing in Glover, Vermont. Their motto is “Art is Cheap” and that it is the very food for the soul. And why not? If it is made from the soul and produced in the very orifices of the human race, then why should we not take as much in as we can, like food to a starving homeless person. It is vital. It is life force. It is beautiful, wonderful energy. That feeling you get when you hear an amazing soprano belt the high note, when you stare at a painting and see the vibrant and ever so slight brush strokes, when you taste a delectable meal and sigh with contentment.

Peace out!

Beauty

I made the most amazing chocolate chip cookies last weekend. You know you want one.

Friday morning at work I made the most excellent Harry Potter themed weather board in anticipation of the FINAL MOVIE this past weekend.

Jake was supposed to come over this past weekend so we could all go see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 together but unfortunately Jake's car broke down. So, no Jake this weekend, but Megan and I still had a super awesome weekend which began with a lot of crying, cheering, and sobbing. Yes, I did all of those things while watching Harry Potter because to me, and to a whole generation of people, this movie really marks the end of an era. It marks the end of our childhoods, the last thing we grew up with.

I finished my re-read of the series on Friday just as I finished my desk shift. As I walked upstairs, I wiped tears from my eyes thinking about the adventures I had just been through, all the emotions I had felt, and all the lessons I had learned with Harry and his friends. And in one day's time, I knew that it was all going to end.  It's crazy how something so simple can effect people, and how a single story can make connections between people.

My hands shook as the opening credits played and my heart stopped when I remembered Dobby's death. I laughed when Hermione transformed into the evil Bellatrix Lestrange (Helena Bonham Carter is a genius.), I cheered when Harry, Ron, and Hermione escaped Gringotts on the back of a dragon, I cried when Professor McGonagall unleashed her rage against the man who had murdered Dumbledore, I shook when Voldemort and the Death Eaters came to Hogwarts and began the battle, I screamed when Nagini murdered Snape and sobbed when Harry learned of Snape's true alliance, I weeped when Harry learned his true destiny and marched into the Forbidden Forest with his family by his side, I smiled when Harry survived the Avada Kedavra curse again only to come back to the castle and fight and win.

It was amazing, and a beautiful ending. To watch Harry send his own children off to Hogwarts was the most brilliant ending there could be. Thank you for these stories J.K. Rowling, you have brought so much joy to so many children with your writing.

On the way to Middlebury to dance in the street - Big Band style.

A U.F.O.! Of course a theatre would have this set up.

The coolest storefront ever.

One thought that's crossed my mind lately is the way actors work. I don't want to give my own tools away because their mine, but most teachers (Hagen, Stanislavski, Strasberg, Meisner, mostly The Method) talk about finding a substitution for the emotional moment of a scene from your own past. For example, if I had a scene where a character was arguing with someone who abandoned him, I would try to think of a moment in my own life when I ever felt abandoned or betrayed to substitute that real emotion into the character. (For me, sometimes this really isn't enough. I like the Practical Aesthetics method introduced by David Mamet which involves create a physical image of a character, imagining the "given circumstances," and then filling in with substitutions and emotions.) Megan brought up the strange dilemma to me when actors stop feeling in real life, and the only way they can express emotion becomes the stage in a character, they're not able to have emotion themselves. It's kind of that image of the "stoic actor" who is very pompous, speaks in monotone, but when they get on the stage they completely transform.

In a way, the stage becomes an actor's form of therapy. But is it crossing a line when an actor can no longer feel in their own lives? I think the answer is yes. Uta Hagen talks about how the actor needs to be a vessel for emotion, and in an interview with Jennifer Anniston that Megan and I were watching, she mentioned how she feels like the actor has a deep well of emotion that they just use. Being that "emotional sponge" is the way an actor becomes a character. Actors have to let emotion effect them. Always. That's how we get the tools we need to play characters. We need to embrace the brilliant happiness and deeply feel sadness and anger in order to convincingly use the entire spectrum of human emotion when creating the aesthetic of a character.

So that's why I cried, laughed, cheered, and sobbed through Harry Potter. Because that's what I felt, and I was filling my well.

Peace out!

Keepin' It Classy In Cape Cod

As I walk down the glass hallway that leads to my room, rain and thunder pound away at the walls, and I realized that I left both of my windows open. I ran down the rest of the hallway, hurriedly unlocked my door, and dashed into my room to windows. I slipped and hydroplaned across the wet tiled floor and slammed into the windows, stubbing my toe and falling on my ass. This is no joke.

Btown just had a huge storm. While I was walking to the library it looked like the sky was in half with beautiful sunshine, and the other half was completely black. While I was coming back, it was like the storm was chasing me.

The banner I just made for my next group arriving to UVM.

This have been good since Megan and I came back to Vermont from our wonderful trip to Cape Cod, but I still wish we were there. It was a trip we've been trying to keep secret from the Internet because we were trying to surprise Ashley. We definitely succeeded in surprising her, and in rocking out the Cape. We did so much and we traveled all around, it would be really hard for me to go into detail for our entire trip. So here is a list of all the beautiful things we did. Hope you enjoy:

- We hiked around in Franconia Notch and the Basin

- We stopped in Plymouth, NH to surprise Eden then the three of us visited her awesome new apartment
- We stopped off in Cambridge on our way through Boston to find Harvard University, then got lost in Boston, and screamed as we drove through tunnels
- We named out GPS "Susan" and swore at her
- We sat in traffic, got flipped off, and got cut off
- We successfully surprised Ashley when she answered the front door and saw us standing there.

"WHAT THE FUCK! SINCE WHEN ARE YOU HERE!? FUCKING FUCK!"

- We got chewed by bugs
- We learned that Cape Cod belongs to Jesus

- Ashley gave us a tour of the Christmas Tree Shop
- We watched clouds descend onto the land
- We fought seagulls, hawks, and llamas
- We attempted to take a picture on the beach, but the sky was too bright, and Megan got sand in her eye

- We traveled to Provincetown and stopped by the National Seashore along the way

- We explored Ptown

- We went to an authentic Portuguese bakery and got fried dough and other yummy baked goods

- We made it to the end of the jetty

- We went clubbing at Pufferbellies in Hyannis twice, and met Ashley's friend John
- We met a group of Irish who were working on the Cape during the summer and were being discriminated against and being threatened to be kicked out of their apartment. But they were hilarious and had the best accents ever.
- We had a Ben and Jerry's buffet

- I broke my glasses, and then got them fixed in Falmouth
- We went to a toy store

- We went to a beautiful lighthouse on our way to Woods Hole

- We couldn't find parking in Woods Hole
- We couldn't go to Nantucket
- We went to the JFK Monument in Hyannis
- We went to a Zooquarium in Yarmouth and met a variety of different animals, especially the peacock we named Shannequa...because (s)he's sassy.

- We hiked two "Braille Trails" meant for blind people but I think if a blind person tried to walk either of these trails, they would die. Seriously dangerous.

- We frolicked in the woods and on playgrounds

- We met Vince and Laurie's (Ashley awesome parents') mannequin named Wayne

- We went to the beach and got totally sunburned.

- We attempted to ride this crazy paddleboat thing, but it was very hard to paddle in the ocean's currents and after about a million times flipping it over ad falling on rocks, we were done.

I paddled like Sawyer from LOST. Get it.

- We explored Main Street Hyannis including a creepy arcade with a sketchy bathroom where I thought I was going to be raped. Or murdered. Or both.
- We went to Nickerson State Park and tried to have a campfire. Emphasis on tried. Ashley and I did have a sword fight however, and we did eat Oreos with melted chocolate on them. Oh, and we hula-hooped, and we showed a group of kids how to use a piece of equipment on the playground.

- We went to the National Seashore Visitor's Center and checked out the surrounding area. I found a stage and danced on it.

- We went to the Drive-In and watched Cars 2 and Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. But it was really more about the Drive-In experience. It's so much better than a cinema.

- We met Ashley's very shy cat named Bandit.

- We went to Scargo Tower in Dennis and saw a lake shaped like a fish

- We walked the beach

-We went to the Salem Witch Museum on the way home and discovered how prejudice in America causes modern day witch hunts. Way to go America. Again.

We had an amazing and wonderful trip. Thank you Laurie and Vince for letting us squat in your house for a week. Thank you Ashley for showing us Cape Cod. We loved it.

Peace out!