Education: Teachers vs. Self-learning

Education: Teachers vs. Self-learning
Seeing a few friends going back to school, and a few others basking in the thesis-writing glow, makes me think twice about learning what I need from books. By myself. I always was bored out of my wits in school. Seemingly never learning what I couldn’t learn on my own in half an hour at the library. But then, having an excuse to be at the library, working on a paper due yesterday, is the best excuse ever to take the time for myself. A meeting with my brains, the neurons, all the thinking mechanics in there, and a piece of paper/pen to jot down my thoughts.

In learning tango, though I have grown with the dance pretty much without a teacher, all my breakthroughs in technique, and the added insights I have with tango dancing, come from teaching/teachers. I learn with a teacher. I perfect my body-tool with a teacher. I learn about the philosophy of movement and music, of balance and grounding with a teacher. I adore it. In fact I am ecstatic when I go in a class wondering what else new I could possibly learn—knowing I have loads to work on but thinking I know all the kinks that have to be worked on. And this is enough to fill my life full time for the next 4 years—I come out of class with extra thinking material. It is surreal.

If I could learn at school in philosophy, what I learn in tango during a one hour lesson, I would gladly go back and get that excuse to spend more time in the library, alone with my thoughts and the writings of wise people. I am dearly looking for an excuse to spend time alone going through wise books. Philosophy, literature, creative process, oh and so much more. So I could then discuss it with a group of friends and write my own wise book.

Wishing I had time to read today’s craving: Baudelaire, Camus, and Persian poetry.

(My exploration goes on)

Beijing August 17.

Just as the weather changes in Beijing, so does my mind.

I am no longer planning to log my tango shoes suitcase and my dog crate to Buenos Aires. Rather, I am migrating to Ibiza. Most probably with a second address in Barcelona.
Why? A man.
Plans have not changed homônumos- or experimental play-wise. I still plan to take a show on tour in 2 years. I still plan to work on a collective writing with avant-garde actors and crew.
In the moments of silence my brain can spare, the direction of my playwriting experiment take shape. I wish to work for 12 months at least, with an actor(s) who is going to carry my character(s) (one assigned to him/her) and make it grow such as his/her own. I envision a role play where I graft my fictive character to a living person, collecting samples from the mutation, using real reaction to situations as guides for my play’s plot.
I know this method of schizophrenic acting must exist. I don’t know of writers who have used it as an external and independent shaping of their character. It is time I do some serious reading on creative writing approach.
Ibiza, here I come...(and the exploration goes on)
Christine Bellerose
Beijing, Aug. 9 2007