One would loosely agree with the expression, “We are all actors and life is our stage.” But some rare breeds, like the theatre types, appreciate this statement all too well. For one such improv group the Octavarius, invading a black box theatre near you, it would influence their social life on a whole new level.
It all started innocently enough. Some local Chicago guys founded a group dedicated to bringing smiles to people’s faces. They booked shows in the north side of Chicago and won a contest or two.
But then they brought their work home. Boundaries were cut. Life’s balance was compromised. The clan continued their act off stage—from improv show to apartment party.
As time went on, fun Octavarius folk dabbled in “varius” off-stage acts, at an attempt to get even more laughs and praise. One day this spring, a few members happened upon local toy store Uncle Fun. Eyes popped and mouths dropped. It was something out of a fantasy—fake appendages, rubber insects and two-headed baby dolls flooded the storefront. But then they spotted it: love at first sight. Luchador masks hung from the ceiling, illuminated by a heavenly glow above. A net carefully cradled each. Seconds after encountering the divine creations, wallets were emptied and masks affixed, ready for action.
After that, during their free time, the squad would pop on their Mexican wrestling masks. Like magic, the guys turned into Lucha libre performers—complete with bad Spanish accents and equally horrible moves—with or without the accompaniment of an apartment audience.
It was these masks that threatened their Normal Life. In essence, their performance was Neverending. No longer could they have a quiet evening with their girls or friends. One even thought about wearing it during lovemaking. No need to account his girlfriend's reaction.
And this is essentially what makes them great performers—both their commitment to the cause as well as their inner-group bond. Thus, the masked invasion continues. The Octavarius can be seen at local theatres in the Chicagoland area. These images document Octavarius’ early encounter with the infamous masks.
"Be forewarned: After graduation, you will be invited to wedding, upon wedding until your mid 30s,” a longtime friend relayed, words from her older friend. Like clockwork, a year after graduation, invitations came flooding in. I went from attending two in my lifetime to being invited to three in two months. My impression of the guest experience? There are so many gatherings to commemorate the, hopefully, once-in-a-life moment. First there is the engagement party, then bridal shower(s), bachelorette/bachelor party and finally the wedding. And of course, gifts are expected for all shindigs.
I’ve just experienced three bridal showers and the format humors me. Women crowd around the bride-to-be, waiting for that special look of utter surprise when she opens your gift, as if she would have never guessed you bought her that toaster from her Target registry. One tradition that’s neat is the rehearsal dinner bouquet, made from ribbons taken off the gifts.
I was recently at a shower that included a fun and different activity. Women were divided into groups to create a wedding dress out of toiler paper—Project Runway style. It was for shits and giggles. One model was given an extended derrière, or “bustle.” And the to-be bride’s grandmother strutted her toilet paper-clad “stuff”, attempted to strip down to her clothes. I love when grandmas are the life of the party!
One brisk Saturday night a few weeks back, I decided to go to the Metro for a goth event, as an attempt to fully experience life.
Faux purple hair from Claire's? Check. Elvira dress? Check. Dark nail polish and lipstick? Check and check. Off I went to my first club. Here is what I found...
-a new mode of dance--flailing arms and legs by one's lonesome
-unusually refreshing dress code--anything goes
-discovery of a new trend in backpack wear--black rubber spikes.
-surprisingly pleasant, non-threatening, music--think Buffy the Vampire Slayer
...But in an attempt to act goth (or whatever stereotype associated), I was moving more and more towards conformity--in affect, the anti-goth. Needless to say, I felt odd pretending to be someone I am not. Though, not enough to never go back.
Faux purple hair from Claire's? Check. Elvira dress? Check. Dark nail polish and lipstick? Check and check. Off I went to my first club. Here is what I found...
-a new mode of dance--flailing arms and legs by one's lonesome
-unusually refreshing dress code--anything goes
-discovery of a new trend in backpack wear--black rubber spikes.
-surprisingly pleasant, non-threatening, music--think Buffy the Vampire Slayer
...But in an attempt to act goth (or whatever stereotype associated), I was moving more and more towards conformity--in affect, the anti-goth. Needless to say, I felt odd pretending to be someone I am not. Though, not enough to never go back.