* * *
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| Performing in Elaine Romero's play in the Future is Female Festival at Chicago Dramatists March 2017 Photo Credit: ? |
Still in MASIVE student loan debt, but at the time of this post and through a lot of tears I do have a sense of relief. Something I didn't think I would really achieve, even in the slightest. Especially in just one year.
I don't ever think I had planned on writing a one year later update about this, but I think it's a good lesson for myself to reflect. It is something I have wanted to share with others. Also to see how far I've come since the initial "reveal." That sounds more dramatic than it needs to be. . .
So again here you are. One year later. Thank you for reading. Here we go!:
UPDATE! PURSUING THEATER IN THE WAKE OF STUDENT LOAN DEBT.
After I published the original post, I had several people reach out to me. Which was unexpected in some cases. People who I hadn't spoken to/seen in years/ don't remember at all came out of the woodworks. One person, I think, even tried to get me to sign up for what I was interpreting as a pyramid scheme. I passed. Others where just simply thankful. That was really good for me to see. I didn't feel so alone. I just wanted to talk about the hard stuff with those that did too.
I've written the beginning of this post multiple times. Never really landing on the "how to," begin [this post]. I don't exactly think there is a "how to get out of student loan debt." But, I've been writing this thing for over a month. So. . .depending on when I publish this post I will either just be flying off to New York City for the very first time performing with Theater Unspeakable or coming back from New York City and landing at Chicago's Midway airport at six in the morning and immediately sprinting to make a performance for a children's puppet show on the West side of Chicago. It's not so much that its been a whirlwind, only that-- wow-- all that happens in a year. Time. Just think about time for a moment. Time. How it. . . resonates.
How are you spending your time?
A brief sidetone: I personally believe you can give people your love. Your money. Your energy. Your body even-- all in the pursuit of whatever. But one thing that I am finding is most precious and sacred is Time. I instill great meaning and weight in phrases like "Don't waste my time," "That's a waste of time," and "I want to spend my time with you." It is how I am able to at this point in my life gauge importance (and even then, that's not the best word). I often get hung up on a lot of other things all at once. I am still a person that is often late to most engagements though. Something my best friend constantly has to battle with me for I am always in the pursuit of something.
In September of 2016 I was working and applying to jobs (the big girl kind!) like a mad-woman. Just like everyone I know. Working hard. Hustling even harder. Making those dolla' billz. But since September of 2016 I was for a brief time working three jobs. I wasn't landing anything above a minimum wage pay grade. As I was applying for all these jobs I was reading all these fucking job notices saying "FULL TIME" and then the fine print detail saying "20 hours max" was really defeating me in the job hunt. To keep my head straight I created a word document of the places and times I had applied to certain jobs. To this day it is painfully embarrassing and frustrating to see job postings for the same job a year later in 2017. I have also decided in the labyrinth of ones mind that I would feel incredibly stupid to apply for those jobs again. So I haven't.
In my word document, I would create another column on whether or not I had heard back from these jobs. Out of the 18 places I applied to I got two in-person interviews (one of which was for the Village of Palatine and during the interview I had a coughing-fit and my eye swelled shut that we had to stop the interview for a brief time. This by the way has never happened to me before that day. It has never happened to me since. The second interview I got was with Punch Bowl Social, but more on that one later), one phone interview with Actors Gymnasium (that a semi-current?/ex lover in another state was also applying for and I felt like a real loser applying "against" them as their talents and skills were far beyond my own) and one rejection in the form of an e-mail. The rest I never heard back from. I kept this hustle going until about December of 2016 when I decided to leave Jewel Osco. Similarity to Petland, I really enjoyed working with my co-workers and working at Jewel. It was a little bit tough leaving a great environment behind, but at $9.10/hour working part-time just wasn't making it happen for me in the bills department or the savings department. At that time I didn't even have a lot of bills to take care of. I still lived in the suburbs sleeping in my childhood room. I also wanted/needed to leave Jewel, because in some symbolic way it represented my non-growth. It represented why I got the job in the first place-- to pay back Prop Thtr the remaining $550 that I owed them from way back in October of 2015. Writing this post now, I can still see myself in birds eye view in the back room past the public eye where I learned in my over-sized neon green shirt uniform suds with discarded food bits under my feet that I was over $125,000 in student loan debt. That image of myself seems years old. No longer painful. Just me.
I ended up leaving Jewel Osco, because I had been contacted by one of god-sends in my entire life, Tony Studnicka. Tony had recently become Assistant General Manager of a new restaurant in Schaumburg called Punch Bowl Social and he thought I'd be a good fit to join the team. Since we came from a similar environment back in the Brunswick's days I leapt at the chance at working under Tony again. I started just a week or so after my birthday in August of 2016. I still work there till this day. And I am extremely grateful. I have hopes of transferring to our Chicago location once it opens, but again more on that later.
In 2016, theater was always on the mind. In the Fall of 2016 I was gearing up for my first performance with Theater Unspeakable at Stage 773 (a venue I had always admired performing at) and I was also making my mini directing debut with Mercy Street Theater Company. Both of these projects went well, but I seemed to always be in a state of, "I should be doing more." Even though I was learning and growing and do amazingly wildly different artistic things I still wasn't fully artistically satisfied. I still feel this way, especially with being in so few literal shows in 2016 and now as 2017 comes to a close.
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| Photo Credit: Jake Fruend |
During this same time, I was also "battling" my healthcare premiums. It had nearly doubled since I was able to secure a plan through the Market Place. I started at $66.02/ month in 2016 with Ambetter on a limited plan (no dental or vision) and to renew essentially the same plan for the upcoming 2017 year it was going to cost me $113.43/month. I was devastated and I looked into battling this price hike, but I stopped looking for answers that were not going to be there. I am currently in another battle with Ambetter as every month I am being billed for two months. I call every month and they claim I am a month behind. I then literally have whatever poor agent has to deal with my frustration go month by month with me from 2016 and figure out where the "non-payment," happened. They obviously never find it. The issue always goes back to how I paid my final month in 2016 and started my first month in 2017. Every month I ask for a letter stating that I am current and that I only owe $113.43/month. Sometimes I get that letter, sometimes I don't. But every time, regardless, I am billed $226.86/month and that I am past due and that I am at risk of losing my health care. These cycles are never-ending. In short, I get that we need healthy/healthier people paying into the system, but god damn. It makes you sick as it drains all of your emotionally energy.
Sidetone: I hate when people compare health insurance to car insurance. That's annoying.
(insert ammeter letter// must find it- sorry readers!)
And then Trump became president.
It all made the ending of my year extremely defeating. It also obviously alerted many peoples lives.
In December of 2016 I was still very blessed to have been a part of Mercy Street's annual holiday show: Merry Christmas Mulch Pile! for a second time. It was rewarding to see the show transform with a new space, script and ensemble. It is something I want to be a part of every year. It's almost like I yearn for a tradition that only I am a part of. However, I still am in a space of battling small parts and small actors. Living in the suburbs really costs me something. Emotionally. I was in a constant state of guilt and shame for always being late to rehearsals. Even with asking to leave work early. I was dealing with the anxiety of risking my job(s). I was drained from having to ask favors from co-workers. I was playing a slight manipulative game of favor build up (or so I assumed). It would still take1-2 hours to get to the city limits. Physically. Driving 26+ miles in rush hour has really cost me the use of my right leg in some cases as my sciatic nerve currently is really killing me. I have since managed the pain, but still cannot sleep consistently sleep on my right side as it's too painful. I spend on average 3-4 hours a day sitting/driving in my car. All that time. Wasted. Doing nothing other than sitting in bumper to bumper traffic. Financially. Tolls. Parking Meters. GAS. And asking to leave work early every weekday night and then not being able to work at all on the biggest money making days in the service industry over the weekends really sliced ones paycheck immensely.
I know there is about an $8 payment that I am not counting, because I declined the check and told the theater company to keep it. I could possibly be missing a $50 (+/-) payment here or there. . .but these numbers are fairly damn accurate. Theater itself is an illogical industry.
In my experience of navigating the Chicago Theater scene you don't get something from nothing. An opportunity only comes, because you're out doing something. That should be a given-- duh! In 2014/2-15 I had made a very strict rule for myself. I would not do anything for free. I would not even audition if the posting read PAY: None. However whenever I took a non-paying opportunity, I only ever took it because I wanted too. That made the project that I was working on more fulfilling and worth my time.
* * *
But these are things all actors deals with on some level. Frustrations. Frustrations with being offered a small role. Frustrations with accepting a small role. Or what is perceived to be a small role. I get that. But I know for myself, these thoughts-- maybe even excuses are remnants of my time and training at Ohio University. Arielle Rogers, a former ensemble member from F-Word, and I recently reconnected when Shelley and Dennis Delaney came to Chicago to support Charles Smiths new play at the Goodman. Arielle once again reminded me that I am still focused on the pain rather the lesson. I need to take my hand off the burning stove. We haven't spoken since that roof-top garden chat below the pink line, but I often think of Arielle in moments where I want a self-pity party. Arielle challenges me to be a better artist. I fear spending intimate time with her, because Arielle is someone that also reminds me of how I am failing just that. It's almost as if I'd rather admire her from afar.
Now begins 2017.
The world of Chicago Theater is changing. Chicago is on the precipice of so many amazing things coming forth. Perhaps in some regards we have even teetered over the edge and taken the plunge into the abyss. The events that unfolded all throughout the middle of 2016 until most recently with Steppenwolfs Passover have continued an ever blossoming dialogue in this great city of Chicago about theater, its artists, its critics, and its audiences. To be in the know it to be part of the community itself. Most times it feels like it has gone beyond Chicago and has taken on the Western way of theater, but I recently had a conversation with my friend who came to visit from New York, Dan Baker, about how perhaps New York is industry and Chicago is community (ie- when it comes to theater). That is most likely our sole difference. Not our trains. Not our weather. Not even our pizza. But our theater. And I thought-- yeah. That's exactly what Chicago is. Community. Chicago and Chicago Theater is community.
I am only a small part of it. One actor in the centrifuge of it. One creator in the abyss.
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| White Thorn of Color by Sonja Lynn Mata My first playwriting debut! January 2017 Image by: Jake Fruend |
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| Theater Unspeakable at the Walton Arts Center in Fayetteville, Arkansas. We performed for close to 1,000+ students! January 2017 Photo Credit: Theater Unspeakable Instagram! |
However, now in September 2017 I feel as though my personal relationship with TU has changed. Simply put, rehearsals were switched to the day time. TU rehearsals use to be Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday 6:30-9:30pm and were switched to Monday, Wednesday, Friday from 2-5pm. It was something I did not know how to make viable. I'm still not the type of person or artist that has let go of my fears of jumping from the gig to gig lifestyle. Taking that plunge has proved to hold many mental obstacles-- even though I know I desire that sort of circus lifestyle. I want to live in a tiny-house I building from scratch for heavens sake! But living the life of gigging is a leap into a abyss I am terrified of. We recently had end of year meetings. There is only so much 10 minutes one can really unpack sitting in front of an artistic director inside a coffee shop.
I still received two contracts from TU for the end of the year. One of them I was able to sign with very limited availability. I had high hopes that I would be selected from the casting pool, as we would be traveling to New York again and New Jersey for the first time. However, I ended up not getting it and I knew why-- availability. To put it simply again, ensemble theater and devising theater makes it feel like you as an actor have a say in more aspects and decisions in a company than maybe you technically do. So when rehearsals switched, not necessarily out of the blue (we were told via e-mail weeks, maybe a couple months before the switch went into effect), I felt like overnight I was no longer a part of the Theater Unspeakable. Nobody had actually said that to my face. It was just the feeling I was left with. I told myself I was no longer an ensemble member, because just like most industries there were actors behind me in line ready and willing to "take my spot." And they did.
In February of 2017 I moved to the city of Chicago! I MADE THE BIG MOVE! Everything that fell into place could have not fallen more perfectly. By making this 'simple' move from the suburbs to the city I had finally done what I had always wanted. I could become the artist that I always wanted to be as I was finally living in the city that I always wanted to be in. With that single move so much had illuminated for me. At one point I had the artistic director of the Neo-Futurists in my living room. I had seen him and known of him and this company since I was about 15-16 in high school. I had placed the Neos so high of my Chicago Theater pedestal list. Ultimately labeling the Neo-Futurists as my version of success. I would be successful if I were a Neo-Furtists. (I recently was asked by a fellow Dell'Arte alum what I thought my version of success was and it is something I want to revisit). But here the artistic director was-- just chilling on a ratty old chair in my very first Chicago apartment. Chicago theater is community. In other news, I had always auditioned for the Neos every time they held auditions. Those auditioned always had a little extra of my nerves, but I always had a blast. Auditioning for the Neos was fun. I think that's hard to say about most auditions. However, this past year I legitimately talked myself out of auditioning for them for a third time. I don't feel as though I ever had fear before, but I remember somewhat vividly Jon Tracey telling me without telling me that I was being a coward. I couldn't shake it though. I couldn't shake not being enough for the Neo-Furtists. I can't shake not being enough in this theater community either.
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| Making the Movement April 8th, 2017 Hairpin Arts Center Curated by: Claire Bauman, Sonja Lynn Mata and Grace DeSant in co-productioned with (re)discover theatre and Pursuit Productions Image by: |
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| One Minute Play Festival: Nevertheless, We Persisted Den Theatre 5.3.17 Photo by: Enid Muñoz Clump 3: (back row; left to right) Alex B Rodriguez, Sonja Lynn Mata, Stephanie Mattos, Elizabeth Hungary, Aissa Guerra, and Kevin Jandrists |
End of May-June 2017- In the wake of pursuing theater, a very strange thing happened to our little theater community one spring-summer (?) night. Outside of Jackalope Theaters- Frontier Space, Mercy Street Theater Company was on an intermission break and right outside the door was none other than the major of the city of Chicago, Rahm Emanuel. He most certainly did not pose for this photo:
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| Photo by Sonja Lynn Mata |
However, Rahm did make a *slight* effort to come over to me and say something along the lines of: "Good luck with your [theater]." Rahm didn't exactly say theater. He just short of gestured with his missing finger hand to the literal foundation of the theater space and sort of proceeded to keep walking. To which I shout-said, "We don't need luck. We have talent."
May-June was also the month of Mercy Street's production of Luz Estrada.
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| Luz Estrada by Dusty Wilson Photo by Christopher Semel Image by Jake Fruend |
I remember the day rehearsals for Luz Estrada started. I was running late. The usual. So when I walked into the room somewhat flustered I saw nearly 12 pairs of eyes on me. I quickly shook it off and attempted to portray some cool confidence about myself, by perching myself in the corner of the room. We'd been aware that this play had been written by a white male and was being directed by a white female. The conversation at the table was something along the lines of not wanting the play to sound like "bunch of white people." To which I chimed something along the lines of, "I don't know about you, but we are not a table of a bunch of white people. So. . ." And I think that's how I approached working on this show. Our ensemble would have the insight and answers we were seeking as a creative team. We just had to trust what we were doing and putting out into the world. However, if I am being honest with myself though, I know that for me personally, I still have some things I need to unpack about my part in this show. And those are things I'd rather omit from this itty-bitty blog post.
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| Photo by: Sonja Lynn Mata |
Also in June I had the pleasure of going out with my best friend, her boyfriend and her boyfriends sister to see Steve Byrne perform. We typically always eat dinner at the Improv Club as we get better seating that way. It just so happened that our table was front and center to the mic stand. We were in it to win it. Our night went a little something like this:
[Taken from Andrea's Facebook]:
*Steve Byrne is trying to find a date for a single guy in the audience and points out Sonja*
"You! What's your name?"
"Ah! Sonja!"
"What do you do for a living?"
"I work at a restaurant!"
"Which one?"
"Punch Bowl Social!"
"What kind of food do they serve?"
"Southern comfort!"
*steve looks at the guy* "Eh." *points at me [Andrea] now* "What's your name?"
Sonja yells: "SHE'S TAKEN!"
Steve says: "Yeah we'll see."
"Andrea!"
"And what do you do?"
"I'm a scientist!"
*looks at the guy* "Wow! You are looking at two VERY different tax brackets here!"
*Sonja loses her mind laughing*
"Ah! Sonja!"
"What do you do for a living?"
"I work at a restaurant!"
"Which one?"
"Punch Bowl Social!"
"What kind of food do they serve?"
"Southern comfort!"
*steve looks at the guy* "Eh." *points at me [Andrea] now* "What's your name?"
Sonja yells: "SHE'S TAKEN!"
Steve says: "Yeah we'll see."
"Andrea!"
"And what do you do?"
"I'm a scientist!"
*looks at the guy* "Wow! You are looking at two VERY different tax brackets here!"
*Sonja loses her mind laughing*
I thought I was being honest in my reply. I wanted to bring attention and patrons to the restaurant I worked at. It was near-by. In my infinite seconds of things I could have said running through my brain what spoke loudest at that time was: "What a perfect opportunity to give a shout-out for Punch Bowl to a nearly sold out show!" And out it went. The tax bracket part never hurt me. However what felt like moments later through my hiccup cry-laughing, Andrea said something that night that will forever stick with me. It is something that I cannot ever. . .forget. Andrea asked me: "Why didn't you say you were an artist?" My tears suddenly tasted different.
Early July 2017: On July 14th Dusty Wilson and I were invited to take part in WBEZs Weekend Passport radio show. It was an honor to say the least. I felt extremely humbled.
Feel free to take a listen about our show, Luz Estrada here.
Sidetone: I cannot recall the day it happened, only that it did. And only that it happened after being interviewed on WBEZ and that it was daytime. After I moved to the city in Uptown, I was still having a hard time finding a routine for my job(s) that I held in suburbs. Depending on my schedule I would still stay in my childhood room in my parents house. Except I didn't have a bed there anymore. So I took to sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor. It was during this time, that my father entered my room with wetness in his eyes. He'd probably just gotten back from the bar. It wasn't that I couldn't tell, only that 27 years later I'm still learning to not be bothered by a limp walk or slurred speech anymore. With my fathers bad knee, he bent down to my sleeping bag level and told me how proud he was of me. He gave me a wet kiss somewhere on my face. I kind of wanted the whole thing to be over, because it's still hard for me to invite my family into my artistic life and accomplishments. It is something I still keep very much private. My father told me he listened to the whole interview on his phone. He was going to show everyone at the bar! He was proud of me once again. And he got up and closed my door. I laid in my sleeping bag just kind of tearing up. I feel like he feels that I "made it," because I was on the radio sounding pretentious as fuck and I only feel like I am a disappointment.
* * *
On July 17th a whack-a-doodle thing happened. I was contacted by Adam Belcuore-- the casting director of the Goodman Theater-- through Facebook. And I didn't notice until nearly two days later. I was given his direct number and I freaked out. I had -zero- idea how my name ended up at his fingertips. I am very clearly NOT on that level of theater performance in the city. So again, I have no idea how I was sought out. Clearly, my mind went to being asked to audition for something. However, that wasn't the reality of this Facebook message.
After realizing that I had been contacted by the casting director of the Goodman Theater I immediately called him. We spoke briefly on the phone about the opportunity. I agreed. I spent too many hours fixating over my resume. I submitted it. Waited. And ultimately wasn't picked.
It was a crazy seven days of playing "what-if's," and "why me?" I spoke only to two people about this. I learned some valuable things. My roommate Tony was quick to point out that it didn't matter how my name arrived to Adam Belcuore. Only that it did. And I shouldn't care how it got there. I also learned that the casting pool for the Goodman is the entire city of Chicago. Nearly every actor will gladly arrive at their doorstep for any opportunity. I have to remind all my readers though, that this was the time of Hedy Weiss. A time when the acting community was challenging these theater powerhouses to pick a side- almost. Tony reminded me about the Goodman, "It's your choice on whether or not you want to mess with that." I didn't know entirely what Tony had meant by that.
I reached out to another artist and got her opinion. She revealed to me that she was also contacted by the Goodman Theater for the very same thing I was. However, she had to decline due to some other prior obligations. It was within that text conversation that I discovered/determined myself that we weren't being sought after by the Goodman, because we were the best for the job, but because we were brown-skinned Latinx theater artists. The Goodman needed us for our heritage. A unique name on a program. Our extensive knowledge on Latinx issues to inform and enlighten the ignorance of the white director they hired for one of their upcoming shows in 2018.
Sometimes I feel extremely lucky to have been messaged. Sometimes I hope too much that my name is still remembered. Sometimes I dream that my headshot and resume I combed through over and over will somehow be plucked from hundreds waved into the air with an exclamation of "She's the one!" However, I was actor that somewhat denounced the Goodman during this time. It felt right to do so. It felt right to not "ascend," into that circle of theater. I was in deep passionate conversations about how if the Goodman closed their doors yesterday it would actually be better for the community of Chicago theater. Yet sometimes to this day I acknowledge how eager I was and am to eat out of the palm of their hand in order to get onto that stage.
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| Hanging with my puppet friends Wonder Wagon Circa: July 30th, 2017 Photo by: Sonja Lynn Mata |
August 2017 didn't fail. I consistently have "life-changing," moments around the time of my birthday. My summer was mostly fueled by working and performing with large scale puppets, flying to New York City for the first time, getting my first tattoo, moving during tech week and . . . honestly challenging my identity. So much so that I am also omitting this sub storyline for another platform and stage. However. . .
Here is the link to my first New York review!
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| Moon Shot Theater Unspeakable performing at the Intrepid Sea, Air, and Space Museum in New York City Circa August 2017 Photo by: ? |
September 2017: The end of August and beginning of September were probably some of the most stressful times I've had to endure since moving to Chicago/ juggling being a theater artist. I moved out of my Uptown apartment during tech week of this show that was literally only about a mile or two down the road to the west side of Chicago. I've already unpacked a lot of my feelings about this time, so writing it down and re-living it isn't exactly profitable. Only that the highlights involved: a miscommunication between all parties and my stubbornness to ask for help and my lack of humbleness. Therefore this time became a reminder of the work I still need to continue on myself.
October and beyond: As this post comes to a close I am once again sitting on the floor on a slippery sleeping bag in my childhood room. I work a double tomorrow followed by a long shift on Sunday, before I head into tech week starting Monday night for Clock Theater Productions The Snow Queen.
The Snow Queen was a good show to end my year on. My cast mates reminded me to remain humble. To remember the sparkle in ones eye when you get the fucking part-- when you're doing the thing on stage. Don't take it for granted. We get this once.
* * *
October and beyond: As this post comes to a close I am once again sitting on the floor on a slippery sleeping bag in my childhood room. I work a double tomorrow followed by a long shift on Sunday, before I head into tech week starting Monday night for Clock Theater Productions The Snow Queen.
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| The cast of The Snow Queen Closing night Photo credit: Sonja Lynn Mata |
* * *
I have some crazy ass dreams. Recently I got it in my head that in the next five years I want to be running a black box sized venue on the west or south side of Chicago. I've looked casually into properties to rent. For a couple of years I've been jokingly driving by abandoned properties, sitting in hours long traffic, thinking "what if?" I've voiced the idea out into the open now. I even sat down with a fucking banker about what a loan would look like. Haha! So I guess I gotta make that happen now, somehow. I don't have any other choice, but to be successful. This dream is partly why I enjoy the music video/ song below. Last year I was playing Amanda Palmers "Smile," on repeat and it got me through that fucking terrible time. This year its Post Malone's "Congratulations," among other songs of his. Sometimes it only takes one line to realize what the hell it is you do to follow your fucking dreams and pursue an illogical industry.
"they said I would be nothing/ now they always say congratulations."For the sake of this post I should literally look into how much I owe in student debt, sort of the whole purpose of this post, I suppose, but also out of fear, it terrifies me to really know that number. It's like I have to confront something that really numbs me and I have to do it willingly. At the time of this post I will not have looked into the whatever dot gov website it is that tells me how much I am in debt. Only that I pay $81 on the 24th of every month (Christmas Eve included!) until April when the card on file expires. I'll get another debt collector call around this time pressuring me to update my payment options. This $81 payment is also on top of what I pay in student loans that were taken out in my name. Great Lakes being my personal student loan debt collector. I wanted no part in the $20,000 my mother and father took out of their savings to get the other debt collectors back into the shadows. A decision that was mostly spearheaded by my sister. My relationship with my sister, Ashley, is consistently rocky. We've never talked about the strain of what this debt has done to us and to our family. Student loan debt and what followed has affected us very differently.
Sadly, I do see the consequences trickled into my extended family. Specifically my niece mentions how poor her family is. One time while eating Joe's Pizza, my niece said that she won't go to college, because her mom and dad couldn't afford it. I nearly lost my cool in front of the entire family. Assertively saying something along the lines of, "If you're not going to go to college because your parents cannot pay for it then your goals are not set high enough." The table went silent for just a second, I had to back down though realizing my own hypocrisy. I do believe my oldest sister, Tina, their mother, is much more in tune with those tough conversations. I have faith in those three kids. They don't have any other choice, but to rise up. I'm their aunt after all.
* * *
I'm headed into 2018, the same as the rest of you. Maybe a little tried. Hungry though. Passionate. Determined. I'm already hitting the ground fucking sprinting, figuring out my next hustle. I have four projects lined up back-to-back from January till about June. I'll be in New York and Arizona. I'll be working with Henry Wishcamper. I'll be devising this crazy ass new show with people and a company I know nothing about. I'll be curating #MTM2 again. I'll be devising a one woman show about identity. I'm taking care of six backyard chickens on the west side of Chicago. I'll be trying to produce White Thorn of Color by 2019. I'm getting serious about launching Drunk Donkey 2.0. I'll be taking the steps to take out a massive loan to rent some dilapidated building to then throw a theater space together. And I'm still trying to read this one book: In Search of Duende, but perhaps in some small sense I'm already living it. One little piece at a time. But don't say congratulations, I still have a lot of work to still do.
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| ~in GROP I trust~ |
With all my messy love,
-Sonja Lynn Mata
P.S. hit me up if you wanna collaborate on a project. anything goes.
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