Welcome to Sentivia

Alright, let me break down who I am and how I got here. It’s a bit of a journey, so buckle up.

First off, I’m a former Marine. I served with 1/1 Weapons Company, in the 81’s platoon, out at Camp Pendleton. Oorah! (chuckles, a fond memory surfaces) Yeah, that's right, I was all in. I joined up a few months after 9/11, like so many of us at the time. I remember feeling this mix of intense patriotism, a thirst for retribution, and this gnawing feeling that I needed to do something more meaningful with my life. To be honest, before then I was a bit of a mess.

I was 17 years old, just out of high school in my hometown of Mishawaka, Indiana – yes, I can spell it for you later (a slight chuckle). Mishawaka is, well, let's just say it's no cultural melting pot. My world consisted of high school plays, which I did enjoy a lot, and the local Blockbuster video. That was the extent of my exposure to art and film.

I was even serious enough about acting to audition for Juilliard when I was a senior. Didn't get in, which wasn’t a surprise, but being a typical 17 year old, that meant college wasn’t for me either. I didn't even apply anywhere else! (A short laugh). I was also chasing this stereotypical dream of moving to LA and becoming a star, you know, the whole "seven dollars and a dream" thing. I got as far as Amarillo, Texas before my old clunker died, drained my bank account fixing it, eventually reached Santa Monica. Spent a couple of days just aimlessly walking the beach before I just packed it in and drove home. So yeah, that was the end of my acting career back then, or so I thought.

So there I was, 17, back in Mishawaka, living in my parent's back room and paying rent. I was bouncing around from job to job – selling vacuums, telemarketing, cutting grass at the 4-H fairgrounds. I was basically treading water and feeling pretty directionless. Then 9/11 happened, and it was like a switch flipped. I was filled with an overwhelming sense of duty. Plus, I was just generally pissed off at everything -- myself, my situation, my parents... my crappy mini-fridge that I drove all the way to California and back. It was time for a major change.

So, I joined the Marine Corps, and honestly, I loved it. I genuinely loved being a Marine, it's something I'm incredibly proud of. Firing weapons, driving and blowing up stuff was pretty cool, I won't lie, but the thing I valued the most, surprisingly, were the people. I found myself surrounded by this diverse group of guys from all over the country - totally different backgrounds, completely different lives. And over time, all of the grandstanding and political noise faded away and they just became my friends. The brotherhood, the camaraderie - that became the heart of the experience for me.

Then, a couple years into my service, and just months before being deployed to Iraq, I dislocated my sternum in a mountain biking accident. It was a serious injury that resulted in medical separation from the military. Now, if you’ve never served, this might sound strange, but being told I wasn't going to deploy to Iraq or Afghanistan hit me harder than anything else could have. It was devastating. I remember vividly leaving the hospital on a stretcher, seeing my whole platoon waiting to make sure I was okay. And then, just like that, I was a civilian again, with no real idea what to do with myself.

I knew that I still wanted to pursue acting. I think I felt I had perspective now, you know? I had faced actual life-or-death situations, what's there to complain about really. "It’s hot," "This coffee line is long" -- that sort of thing seemed pretty trivial. I figured, what could be more challenging than what I’d already been through? I decided I would go to New York, and if it didn't work out I'd just live in Central Park, foraging for food, you know? (a wry grin)

So I re-auditioned for Juilliard, and I actually got in this time. I thought that was it, I'd made it. But the transition from the military to civilian life was way more complicated than I expected. I was relatively healthy, which made me feel guilty for all those who have come home with serious injuries – both physical and mental. I was surrounded by my friends serving overseas in actual combat situations, while I was in acting classes "throwing imaginary balls of energy" and "giving birth to myself on stage" (laugh). It didn't quite align with what I was doing with my brothers overseas.

Then, there was the practical side. I had to find a job. My skills involved machine guns and mortars. It turns out that those aren't highly valued in the civilian world, go figure. (chuckles). And on top of that, emotionally, it felt like I was missing something. The military had given me this deep sense of purpose; everything had meaning, a tradition, a practical application. Rules, ranks, even the way you carried yourself -- these things spoke volumes about who you were. In the civilian world, no one cared about that. It felt like I had to constantly prove myself again, like the respect I'd earned in uniform was just gone. There wasn't a clear community, not like I had in the Marine Corps. Who, in civilian life, has to go through a life or death situation with their friends to test their loyalty?

But something interesting was starting to happen. Through the plays I was reading, I was beginning to understand my own experience in a new way. Playwrights and characters who had nothing to do with the military were describing things I couldn’t quite explain about myself. I was becoming less aggressive and able to express things I hadn’t been able to before. And I started to think less about the drills and the pain of my service and more about the human moments. The times of intense emotion, celebration, sadness. My friends going AWOL to see their families, the divorces, the grief. All of it, happening in the context of our time in the military. These are the memories that stick with me.

I realized that the military and theater, despite seeming very different, actually have a lot in common. They both involve a group of people working toward a common goal bigger than themselves. You have a defined role, you have to depend on your team, you need self-discipline and maintenance. And it was the idea of combining these two worlds, a place where we can entertain and also provoke people to think, that is why we started Arts in the Armed Forces.

We wanted to bring something more thoughtful to service members, something outside of the typical “mandatory fun” events like the ‘Win a Date with a Cheerleader’ contest. (chuckles) Don't get me wrong, I love cheerleaders, but that wasn’t exactly connecting with the experience. We wanted to present theater in a way that was accessible without being condescending. We select diverse contemporary plays and monologues performed by incredible, trained actors. The production is stripped down, it's all about the language, and we want to show theater can exist anywhere. It’s about getting in a room with strangers and reminding ourselves of our common humanity. Self-expression is just as important as the tools of war.

We’ve taken this all over the world, from military hospitals to bases to theaters. It's just as eye-opening for the actors as it is for the military personnel. And doing this for so many years now has taught me that acting can be a lot of things – a business, a craft, a political act. But it's also a service. I didn't get to finish my service in the military, so any time I can serve the ultimate service industry, there's really nothing better.

So yeah, that's a bit about who I am, and what I am trying to do, why I am here tonight. Thank you. (a nod of genuine appreciation)