Batmah for Jesus...or just to turn the lights on.

So normally I regale you with tales of acting goodness. But today we had our day off so I have nothing to regale.  Other than my adventures in the laundry room.  (those of you that have read my fb status, you've heard this already).

Today I bummed around my room doing very little but then decided to be productive and do some laundry. 

I take my bag of laundry downstairs and throw it in.  This is the only time I get to watch tv since I don't actually own one and since I was the only one in the room, I could change channel at will.  There's nothing like being queen of the remote.  It doesn't matter that all I really found was crappy american shows, I was in control.

However, the lights in the room itself are motion sensored.  So if you sit for too long in one attitude, the lights go dark and you are sitting there like a creepster in utter darkness.

Me, being the lazy ass that I am did not want to get up every five minutes to turn on the lights, nor did I want to frighten any soul that came down to do their laundry (be it halloween or not).  Can you just imagine coming down with your laundry, the lights flicker, you turn, and see this american girl in her pajamas sitting in the dark by herself.  yeah. 

So.  To remedy the situation, and yet still remain lazy, everytime the lights would go out, I'd do a high kick while laying on the couch.  The lights would be triggered, and I could remain horizontal.  Ingenious. 

That is unless you count the fact that I am just as odd (if not odder) when you consider I'm down in that room high kicking for an hour while watching telly. 

What can I say?  I'm a winner.

I am not a One-Trick Pony...at least I hope not.

Our first performance went extremely well.  The picture above is of my group from "Pool (No Water)" in one of our scenes.  It's funny when you rehearse something for 8 hours a day, every day.  Once you get up to perform, at least for me, I didn't really have any nervousness.  The two pieces were integrated together and we had an audience of all the BA 1st year actors, two of our writers and the head of the Playwright's Studio, our head of dept, and one of the directors who will be working with us on Chechov (which is next).  There were also some members from last year's MA CCT cohort. 
After two weeks of grueling work, it was all over in a little over an hour.  Poof. 
Later I received compliments on my voice work as well as my acute ability to play an intense powerful bitch. ...yeah.  Thank you? 
The truth is, that IS a compliment.  And I take it that way.  However, I do worry that that may be the one thing I can do.  I hope it's not the ONLY thing I can do.  It tends to be the fall back, or the card I keep in my back pocket.  It makes me wonder 1. why do I normally take a line that way?  and 2. Is that me going for what is easy.  I don't want to be a one-trick pony. 
I am sure there is a career out there to be had playing only bad guys, cranky secretaries, and bitchy neighbors.  And I'm sure I would fit right in.  But that will not take me to the next level (whatever the hell that means.)
Yes, there are some parts that I will just never play.  But I also know that as human beings, we have so many shades and colors to us.  It's not just Happy, Sad, Mad, etc.  There are so many facets that make up who we are.  The problem is making sure you can bring them forth so that you make a real person as opposed to a caricature. 
I think it may go back to the whole "self perception" thing.  How do you see yourself?  How do others see you?  Which is fact and which is fiction? 
I don't think I'm quite chameleon enough yet.  But I'm hoping at some point in this year, someone will give me that chance.  And maybe, just maybe, I'll find some shades and colors I never knew I had.

After the performance on Friday I crashed.  And I mean CRASHED.  I went home and didn't move again till Saturday night.  I wasn't going to move then either but my across the hall neight AW from the MA musical theatre course invited me to a small gathering at an apartment off campus.  I am REALLY glad I went.  It was nice being around musical theatre people again for a bit.  They are a different breed, my friends.  And it was also very low key which is how I prefer to spend my evenings anyway.  We watched Reservoir Dogs and then had an impromptu jam session with someone on keyboard, someone on acoustic guitar (named Isabel or Scarlet, we couldn't decide), and just sitting around singing songs.  I was plied with just enough beer to do a few Chinese grama impressions as well as sing India.Arie's "Ready For Love" and we sprawled out on the couch getting to know one another.  Didn't get home till about 3 a.m. 

Today I once again kept it easy.  Saw a movie (The Help...for the third time) and then hibernated in my room.  I very badly want to get out of Glasgow and see a bit of Scotland but I knew very well that my body and mind needed this weekend to sit and do nothing.  We also get tomorrow off for our mid term break.  And will have conferences (they call them Tutorials here) with our dept head to gage our progress on Tuesday. This week, in theory will be much more on the slow side.  Thank. God.

And this is why I am an actor. magical.

Today was a good day.  No, today was a magical day.  It was just one of those days when things go right.

I'll admit that I was hesitant at the start.  I had a very bad night's sleep.  My back was hurting so badly that I couldn't get comfortable.  Didn't fall asleep till about two thirty, then was awoken by another fire alarm at 745am.  This would be the 4th in four days.  I may be deported for homocide soon.
Then was at school by 9am for another rigorous workout session that bordered on martial arts.  My already weeping muscles screamed at me as we punched at the air and squatted until our thighs shook and gave out.  If my body weren't tightening up, I'd be pissed.  But since it is, I'll only mildly hate the warmup leader.  Don't you just hate it when things are good for you?

Anyway, following that we had the most productive and magical rehearsal.  The voice teacher (and my nemesis) Lorna came back in for the morning session.  We ran our rehearsal and she made tweaks.  And damnit.  They were freakin' brilliant.  The slightest note she gave us changed and cleared up any muddiness we might have had in our scenes.  There was a point when the group of us were huddled in a heap and laughing and giggling (which was called for in the scene) but it wasnt acting...it was being.  It stopped feeling presentational and became natural.  It was one of those AHA! moments where you sit back and go "this is when the individual became the WE."  This is when you actually listened and responded and things became real. This is what energizes and feeds our creativity.  And this is WHY WE DO IT. 
But the best was yet to come.  The final scene involved one of our actors, MM, to stand and deliver a monologue that tore into the rest of us for our foul behavior and indecency.  It used to be just shouting at us where we snarled back and "acted."  After Lorna's tweak, we stood still and watched MM.  She didn't move.  She just stood there.  Straight.  Didn't even look at us.  Lorna place a bit of pressure on the back of MM's neck and whispered "stay with it.  say it."  And as we gazed with resentment at MM, she, with tears streaming down her face, gave the most heartbreaking speech.  Instead of caving in to the impulse to yell out and tear us down, she quietly put us each in our place.  No one moved.  No one hardly even breathed.  Some couldnt look MM in the face because they truly felt shame.  Some couldnt help but look at her, mesmerized by the guilt they felt.  And I...I watched and listened.  And tears began to fall from my eyes, too.  For once, I didn't think.  I just listened.  And took what MM gave.  And in return, I felt.  I reacted.  I didn't know I could.  That I had that in me.  And that, my friends, is what we (no, I) have always wanted.  For something to feel right.  I didn't cry because I thought, "well, I should really squeeze out a few tears here, it would really sell the piece."  No.  The tears were a by product for what was going on inside me.  For what I felt for MM.  At that moment, I broke her heart.  And I knew it.  And she was so open and generous in letting us see that vulnerability that it allowed each of us to react in an open way.  Speaking for myself, it was one of the most incredible moments I've ever experienced.  And THAT is why I'm here.  THAT is what I do this for.  For moments that are so beautiful that no words can truly express it.  All I can say is, I wish you were there.  I wish you could have felt what I felt.  Alive. 

The lunch session brought another success.  I went to the bank.  (cue dramatic impending doom music)  and found that the money transfer had finally gone through.  I am no longer poor.  I have an account that functions.  And it only took...five weeks. 

The afternoon session was with the entire cohort.  We found a way to integrate both pieces of work, intertwine them, and added transitions.  I am truly excited for our performance tomorrow.  And in celebration of that, most of us went to Molly Malone's for a couple of beers.  I spoke with a couple of cohort member that I don't know very well, and felt more at home than I have in a very long time. 

The walk home with LY and VM was brief and chilly (just the way I like it).  Twinkly lights are being strung from the buildings giving Glasgow a magical glow.  We stop at the fish n chips place, but don't feel guilty since we got our butts kicked this morning in warm up. 

I am hopeful.  A scary notion.  Because hope means you have the ability to be disappointed.  But hope also means there's a broadening in your vision.  It means you have direction and purpose.  It means I value myself again.  This feeling may not sustain itself for long, but I can tell you, right now it feels pretty effing great.  And I'm going hug it close to me for as long as I possibly can. 

Home is where your heart is.  But I never knew where my heart was.  Or I put it in unhealthy things or gave it to people who were only temporary.  It's made me a bit lost for a very long time.  I'm still fairly lost.  But I feel I have a much firmer footing in my world right now.  I feel I belong.  I can't tell you how rare that is. 
It is not the place.  It is not the people.  Though both are delightful.  It is me.  Feeling useful, productive, worthy, and purposeful.  I am my own home.  And as long as I am at peace with me...I can make my home anywhere. 

Now remind me of this when I next have a bad day and want to throw inanimate objects out the window.  Because let's be honest.  You know me.  I'm a moody sort.  And my tantrums are legendary.

Thinking of you.

Will You Marry Me?

Are there any single UK men out there who are looking to get hitched?  'Cause I'm open to offers.  Clearly that is the only way US performers can now stay in this country.  Now I am not in anyway sure that I'd want to stay here after graduating.  But I don't like the idea that it's not even an option.

Allow me to elaborate...

We had a meeting today with an immigration specialist that was to explain the changes in UK visa regulations.  Now, in the US for example, a foreign study performer can work IN THEIR FIELD during studies and then following graduation, they have a year to gain employment before they either apply for visa extension or get booted out of the country.
Here, during your studies you can work...but NOT in your field.  Then the old regulation would be that you graduate and can apply for a two year visa that you can stay in the country to gain employment, go to auditions, and try to convince the UK that you are an exceptional artist and they want to keep you. 
HOWEVERRRRRRRR, as of this April 2012, they have discontinued that visa.  Now we can only qualify for what is called a general Tier 2 visa.  This requires you to have already gained a job BEFORE graduation that is 1. long term, 2. a company that is from a certain list of sponsors, 3. that pays you a minimum of something like 20,000 pounds a year.  ...uh buh????  This would be ok for a nuclear physicist, or an engineer, or an accountant.  But for those of you that don't understand the way the entertainment business works, the likelihood of this happening would be like me saying I could learn Yiddish in a day while having winged monkeys flying out of my butt.  (I may be talented but bat monkeys are not in my repertoire.)
1.  Long term rarely exists in acting.  Even most broadway shows give you a 6-9 mo contract.  And if you gain a tier 2 visa, it only lasts as long as your contract.  The visa itself costs a couple grand at least. You have to leave the country to apply for it, so that means you are spending hundreds of dollars just going home to fill out a piece of paper, then spending hundreds of dollars flying back here if they give it to you.  All that for 6 months?  I think not.
2.  The likelihood of you finding a UK company to sponsor you and doing the paperwork rather than just going with a european who looks just like you anyway is incredibly slim.
3.  and getting 20,000 pounds for one gig is...well who do I look like?  Dame Judi Dench?

Sigh.  So.  For those of you back home that worried that Europe would swallow me and keep me, never fear.  They pretty much give you your diploma and show you the way to the airport at the same time. 

As for todays shenanigans, we were in rehearsal from 9-6pm.  I was feeling well below par.  Bit under the weather and run down.  But it was a VERY productive day.  We presented our piece to the class at the end of the day and it went way better than I think even we expected.  Orgy and all.  By Friday's performance I think we'll have something pretty darn good.

Bumps and bruises, aches and pains all over.  And well earned.

p.s.  Mom and Dad, I miss you.  But can you believe I'll be home for xmas in less than two months??

p.p.s.  I have already received one proposal since posting this.  any other takers??  :)

a $30,000 Orgy. [SORRY FAMILY MEMBERS]

Yup.  You heard me right.  That's basically what the past two days have been. And that's basically how much this education is costing me.

The piece we have been working on (for those of you just joining this program, the piece is called Pool[no water]), has reached the part in the script where the cast gets high off of numerous drugs and then has a mass orgy.  Before you worry about my sanity, please realize that we all keep our clothes on and that it is in fact artistic...as artistic as you can get with ten bodies writhing around.  Well...it's certainly taken away all shyness in our group.  And we can't claim we don't know each other after this.  And it's made for some WONDERFUL laughs.
The piece itself is raw and unflattering.  It's meant to be that way.  It's definitely not something I've ever worked on before and it surprises even me with some of the things I do without a second thought.
I feel this would be a good time to talk about that leary question that everyone always wonders about actors: How can you do explicit things?  and in front of people??

Now, I can't speak for anyone but myself.  People have different limits, morals, and tastes.  But just because I participate in a performance piece like this, does not mean I am without these virtues.  On the contrary.  I'm quite conservative.  And for those who know me, I don't express a lot of public display of affection.  But on stage or on film, you are not in public.  (Well, you are.  There's hundreds of peeping eyes from the audience.)  Technically, if you are having a moment with another character (if you are doing your job) you are only with that character.  The audience does not exist.  There of course are gray areas (i.e. when it is an abstract piece or presentational, and breaks the "4th wall" and involves the audience).  But for the most part, if I can justify the intimacy within the play, and it serves a purpose in telling the story and adds to the meaning of the piece, I'm all for it.  Let me reassure you, however, that I do NOT count pornos as art.  Or anything of the like. 
But there is beauty and power in intimacy and the use of it.
Regardless, in the end, it IS about the work.  It's about the story. 

That being said...I'm not quite sure what story we are trying to tell with this mass ball of people.  I certainly would never invite my family to see it.  But not because I'm not happy with how it's evolved. I am.  I just don't think that's what they would see.  And not something they would enjoy.
But I am pushing my own boundaries, learning to DO and not only THINK.  And though frustrations are high, we are learning to work together which is a Herculean feat all in itself. 

I will be ready, however, to move on to the next project after this Friday.

Before parting I will share with you some wonderful isms I've learned this week.

*Munter or Minger=  a very unattractive person.
*Faff= to muck about or waste time.       and therefore...
*faffucino=A beverage purchased from Starbucks which causes a delay and a queue to form. Particularly popular with the person in front of you when you are rushing to get coffee at the station for the morning commute.


Now...back to memorizing lines.

What did you just call me???

So Friday morning I get up early so that I can take out the rubbish since it was my turn in the communal kitchen duties.  I take it down to the basement and through the laundry room where the main mainenance man was painting the room a cheery bright yellow.  Now, let me preface this with the fact that he has one of the STRONGEST scottish accents I have ever heard.  But I could tell from what he was mumbling that he was asking how I liked the color of the room.  This is how the convo went...
Maintenance Man: How dsfkm adgfoiuc like color?
Me:  oh.  Yes!  It's lovely.  Very clean and cheerful.
MM: Ah gud. Ahv bin doon herrrr awhile asdlkcvjergoin finish.
Me: Uh-huh. 
MM:  Yew like it hair in wee glazgo?
Me:  Oh yes.  Very much.
MM:  adsfjmo agfvoihw sdo.
Me: (smile. nod.) ...ok.  Well, I'm off to school now.
MM: Ok. See you later, Cow
Me:  ----

WHAT?!  I had made it halfway to the elevator (lift) when it hit me.  Did he just call me a cow?  Is that a term of endearment here?  He said it in such a sweet and friendly old man way...hmm... must do reconaissance work.

So I asked my scottish cohort members and NO.  It is not something people generally say.  "Maybe he thought your name was Carol. and you heard Cow?"  "Oh no, it sounds like he said Pal.  Not Cow. Surely not."  ...ok...I'ma gonna believe them and go with Pal.  But if that piece of Haggis says cow again, he's going to be blowing his bagpipe from the other end.

Class itself that day was frustrating, but productive, but not, but confusing.  Working in an environment that is building a piece from the ground up where everyone has a say and most are people (myself included) that like to explain things in depth, is incredibly taxing.  And everyone wants so badly for the piece to be good that they worry about stepping on each other's toes.  So we spend as much time apologizing as we do sharing our ideas.  But what we came up with is a wonderful start.  Though now I've been spending the weekend memorizing pages and pages of dialogue.  Memorizing, I find, is something that is a muscle that needs exercised.  And mine is highly out of shape.

Friday night, I took a step out of my character and went first to a cabaret, then a bar where two bottles of wine were consumed, and then clubbing.  Yes.  I went to a club.  Friends in NYC, please stop laughing.  I can hear you from here. 

The cabaret was a brother sister duo from London called Bourgeois and Maurice.  Which I truly enjoyed.  Plenty of glitter, jokes, and silly made up songs.  Then the bar was in some alley way and they opened up a section for the ten of us that were there.  (never fear mother, I had plenty of people to keep me safe).  This was the perfect unwind from a frustrating day and I got to know a few people a lot better.  They really are lovely people.

Finally, about five of us continued to the Buff Club. Now I realize that sounds like a strip joint, but I assure you it wasnt.  At least on that night.  As far as I know.  Anyway.  They played awesome 50s, 60s and 70s music.  And as two o'clock rolled around LY and VM and I left the club to walk home with a pitstop at a fish n chips place.  That's right children,  always remember, after a night of debauchery and drink, one must always coat thy stomach with grease.  Then douse self in much water.  Then take two large Aleve's.  Which I did. 

Saturday was dedicated to a hangover the size of Texas.  But so worth it.

In other news, I finally had an appointment with the bank.  I now have an account....with no money in it.  Apparently there are certain pieces of information on their computers that can only be obtained during mon-fri and so transfers are impossible on weekends. ...whuh? 

Whatever.  Scotland, your ways no longer shock me.

dear santa, screw the two front teeth. all i want for xmas this year is Tiger Balm.

They have begun to put Christmas decorations up around the city and have posted holiday sales. I used to think it was horrible when Walgreens used to put out Valentine's Day candy at New Year's but this I think tops that.  October 20th...Happy Xmas.  

It's now dark and dreary almost all the time.  I get to class at 930 and don't leave till about 6pm.  I don't think the sun and I have seen each other in a few days.  And so far, I don't really mind.  Although I do wish we had a bit more fresh air considering we've been stuck in a basement like rehearsal room that smells of musty socks and sweaty wet dog.  Which I suppose is the equivalent of hundreds of musty sweaty actors rolling around on the floor.  I know.  You're jealous.  I can tell.

We began both yesterday and today with the "warm up" from hell.  Two of our cohort were put in charge.  It just so happens that these two are the most fit in the class.  What we thought would be leisurely stretching and humming turned into a bootcamp that involved planks, pushups, running (you remember how I feel about running) with knees up, then touching the ground then with kicking your own butt then touching the ground then running then pushups then running then kick back push ups, etc.  By 1030 we all were sprawled on the ground as we'd become panting puddles of exhaustion.  Then came class.

Yesterday, after reading through our play "Pool (No Water)" we had our session again with Lucien and Benedicte.  This time instead of the elements, we studied Materials.  We observed and then became rubberbands, cardboard, bubbles, cellophane, and finally sugarcubes when plopped in a glass of water.  I know.  You're jealous.  I can tell.  lol.  But believe it or not, these materials (when stretched, ripped, popped, crushed, or crumbled) move in a way that when duplicated through the human body can reflect human emotion.  Now that doesn't mean that when your role calls for you to collapse after hearing that your brother died that you tell yourself "Beeeeeeeeeeee a sugar cube."  That's not the point.  But to understand and use all objects around you, to interpret that in your body, you can then expand your knowledge of what your body can do.  So that when you feel tension stretched between two characters, you can remember how that rubber band felt before it snapped.  You can feel that childlike wander of a bubble.  You feel the burst of release after releasing the crumpled piece of cellophane and the twitches that follow as it tries desperately to return to its original shape but never quite making it and it can resemble a sort of distorted pain in the body after severe injury.

Funny tale about that particular cellophane exercise.  The idea was that your partner (mine was PB. wonderful guy) has to fold and crumple your body tightly into a ball, then release it like the cellophane. Than it is your job to release and twitch to return almost to your unfolded position.  Ok. No problem.  Then we tried it together.  So here's another moment where you'd never be in this position in real life.  I am laying on the ground with PB, completely intertwined and wrapped around each other, we squeeze each other as tight as we can, then release each other and twitch. Totally immersed in the exercise I thought nothing of it.  It was only later that I thought...Gee, I'm really glad we both like boys.  That coulda been...awkward.

Today we worked with L and B again (after another rendition of the warm up from hell.)  This time it was a workshop on Jacques Le Coq's Le Plateau.  It's a bit difficult to explain but basically it's all 23 of us sitting in chairs along the edges of a large rectangle.  We pretend that the rectangle is a plateau or platform that is balancing on top of a ball.  One person gets up and walks around, UNbalancing the plateau.  So, another person gets up and sets themselves in the space to balance it back out.  The movement continues, every so often adding people.  We adjust our spacing as we react to the imaginary tilt we feel when the plateau/stage is unbalanced. 

During lunch, half of us met up with the marketing team for RCS.  They discussed with us how to market ourselves around the community, to agents, on social networking sights.  We divied up responsibilities and my plate is fairly full, I'm pretty happy with how much the group is putting forth.  If everyone pulls their own weight, we should be in VERY good shape.

Finally our afternoon session began and it was the first Actual rehearsal for Pool (no water).  This process is very much from the ground up.  We spent a couple hours running around and improving the entire piece.  Since it is written like a modern day greek chorus (we speak all at the same time or in intervals or make sound effects or make the scene with only our bodies) it's a huge group effort.  So far we are working incredibly well together.  If we keep on track like this, we should be able to have something really impressive by performance...which is next friday.  woof.

Well, I think that's about it for today. 
Thinking of you.

I Can Be Any Kind of Tree You Want...Just Give Me a Moment to Prepare.

And I'm back on top.  I feel better.  And THAT is how it works.  One minute you can feel like an absolute waste of space, and the next, you are back to that feeling of belonging and acceptance.  ...It's freaking exhausting.

Today was not as dreary in both weather and curriculum.  After a quick trip to the bank to yell at them for still not providing me with a bank account, I managed to get to class on time.  First on the docket, Movement with Lucien and Benedicte.  No, these are not code words.  But rather the names of two phenomenal teachers.  Both have been trained at the Le Coq school and they are like two halves to one whole.  Like tweedle dee and tweedle dum.  Like the comedy and drama masks.  Like Yin and Yang.  Like Peanut butter and Jelly. ...ok, that was a bit much.  But they are truly two beautiful spritely people that give off such a wonderful vibe and finish each other's sentences.  Lucien also looks a bit like Andy Serkis which makes me giggle.
Today's movement was on the four elements: Earth, Water, Fire, Air.  We hold a movement for each in different parts of the body.  Earth- stability, formidable, solid, and determined- can be found in your base/legs.  Water- fluidity, sensuality, freely- is in the pelvis.  Fire- hot, erratic, dangerous, lustful- is in the chest.  Air- malleable, without direction or limit, light, soft- is found in the head.  So we spent that time moving our bodies through each phase.  Earth is when we became (yup. No joke.  Theatre people actually do this.) trees.  I had always made fun of that, quoted Drop Dead Gorgeous (which we still did. you can click on the link below and see the reference), but today there was proof that there's reason why we do it.
Drop Dead Gorgeous here

 By envisioning the characteristics of a tree, you can become something powerful and stoic.  Something that could be used in a character who might be grounded and forceful.  We then became the waves and as a collective unit, ebbed and flowed in something that appeared like a whirlpool of people.  Fire, my least favorite, was more about that build and spasm of a fire's burn.  The sounds of crackling and hissing.  The heaviness and almost pant of breath.  What comes from that is feral and aggressive.  And finally air.  If you've ever watched a plastic bag being tossed around in the wind...well...insert actors here. 
Other exercises included molding ourselves and each other like clay, running from one side of the room to the other with arms spread to feel the air through our fingers, and pretending to jump off imaginary diving boards (testing the different levels of bounce from each end of the board.)  yeah...you know...just a normal day in the grind. 

Trust me, people.  I am quite aware how abnormal this all sounds.  But oddly enough, when you are here, this becomes the normal. 

After lunch the second class was Voice with Lorna again.  I centered myself (oh who am I kidding?  I sent a prayer to the big man upstairs that I wouldn't cockup from start to finish this time.)  And once again, the Lord came through.  After the normal warm up-alas there was no butt jiggling this time- we began on the text.  I still don't like reciting text on full voice for long periods of time.  It sounds and feels like shouting and I feel like I learn very little.  But I committed to the exercise and felt freer with it.  Then came the sound effects again (see last blog for more description).
Anyway, this time we used a half page worth of our "Pool (No Water)" text with six of us.  We read our chosen text and then extracted sounds and words we liked.  It was informal but structured. Just. how. I. like. it.
Everyone was heard and everyone contributed.  And what came from it was actually something quite special.  We set up our audience (the other half of our class) in the middle and asked them to close their eyes.  We then set ourselves in a circle around them so that our text and sounds would sound like surround sound to them.  There were points where we hadnt ironed out all the particulars but for the most part we created a visual world through sound.  At one point we created a hospital using the sounds of the dripping IVs, the hum of fluorescent lights, etc.  I wish I could explain it better.  But just know that it was a huge step forward for our group in collaboration.  And special props to one of our directing students PB.  His energy, openness, humor, and yet ACTUAL direction is something that makes me very excited to work with him. 
The other group made a huge impression on me as well.  With our eyes open, we watched them create amazing tableaus and images as well as enhancing the text through sound.  I was really proud.

So yes, today was a success.  And I embrace that.  I am more tired than I can say.  My back is in pretty bad shape after the 8 hours of physical work.  But I am happy and inspired.  I don't think there's anything better than that.

My Fictitious Boyfriend and My First Road Block.

I woke up today and already knew....uh oh.  I am not in the mood to play today.  There are just somedays that for no reason at all you look at the world outside and say, "Bugger off."  And today was one of them.  It poured down cold rain the entire day and most of the class hung their pants and socks and jackets from whatever radiator or wall tack that was available. 

My lower back has been spasming over the past week and today was going to be rough.  I knew from the little nugget of resistance inside my chest that was having a tantrum like a three year old, "I DONT WANNA PLAY TODAY!"   But more on today later.

This weekend was both relaxing and fun.  Friday's class involved a six hour lecture with Nicola McCartney, a playwright and director who has ties with the National Theatre of Scotland.  The theme was about how we collaborate/speak to/ask questions/find the boundaries with a Writer on a new project.  This being needed since we will soon start the process of working with our three playwrights who will write our pieces that we will tour around the UK.  The whole day was surprisingly useful to me.  Part of it involved all of us taking fifteen minutes to write a scene of our own, then having two of our fellow cohort act it out (without any direction or coaching).  This helped us to understand what a playwright goes through when they hand over a part of themselves. 
Beautifully, we found that the majority of our cohort can write some really compelling and talented stuff.  We then deconstructed and worked on pieces of Nicola's.  The biggest theme being, you MUST use all punctuation as written, especially ellipses.  Because pauses are like actions with no words.  And by omitting them, you are rewriting the play which is insulting to the playwright and not telling the story.  We could then give feedback to Nicola so that she could make her own edits.

By this time in the night, I had completely lost my voice and had a booming headache.  The girls in the course were going on a "man-hunt" but I had to bail from the clubbing and go and sleep it off.  However, I did make it to Joanna's birthday party at the Hillhead Bookclub.  This place is even livelier during the night.  You can buy a huge drink called the Gramaphone in which it is served in a punch bowl in a real gramaphone.  ...by the end of the night, there were three on the table.  Lo also saw a pink icy drink that some scottish girls were drinking and asked them what it was.  In their accents, it sounded like they said "Mickey Toe" but actually it was MOJITO.  yeah.  We're still learning.

Now in reference to the first part of the title of this blog, before the birthday party Lo and I went to see part of a play called "Days of Wine and Roses" at the Tron Theatre.  I say part because we were running late for the birthday party and it wasn't really stellar anyway so we bounced out at intermission,.  (p.s.  did you know that they sell ice cream at intermission here?  and you can drink your wine in your seats while watching the show) 
Anyway, after the show, Lo was hungry and we crossed the street to a fish and chips place.  Now fish and chips places are everywhere, and I have to be careful because I could get used to eating that fried goodness all the time.  But we went and one of the workers there (a middle eastern man) kept staring at me the whole time.  Finally he sauntered over and asked our names and where we were from.  (Stacy's inner monologue:  ok mister creeper man, i'll tolerate you.)

Middle Eastern Man: You live around here?
Stacy: Around.
MEM: You have a boyfriend?
Stacy: (shit).  Yup.

Now friends, you know damn well that's a big fat lie. But this is what we call "ACTING."

MEM:  I want to friends with you.  I like the way you look.  I want to be friends with you.
Stacy: (not on your life pal.  and I highly doubt "friends" is what you're looking for.)  ::laugh awkwardly::
MEM:  Your boyfriend from here?  He live in America?
Stacy:  (think faster Stacy.)  No.  He's English.
MEM:  Oh.  England.
Stacy: Yes.
MEM: OK.
Stacy: Yup.
MEM:  I still want friends with you.
Stacy: (listen scumbag, don't make me sic my imaginary boyf on you.)  Right. Lo, you done eating?
Lo:  Yup.  (this whole time she's kept a straight face and played along with non-existant boyf)

We go.

Though had I been thinking more quickly, I should have gotten free fish and chips...

As for Sunday,  I spent the entire day watching silly romantic period dramas on the BBC.  Yes.  I'm that sad.  :)

So, back to my day today and the ROAD BLOCK.  930-1pm consisted of a warm up and a read through of The Theban Plays.  I was cast in the other "Pool (no water)"  but we still joined in on it.  We then dissected the themes that we found from it and what visual pictures we may be able to use in the production itself.  After lunch we split in half and my half went into Voice class with Lorna. 

We did more butt jiggling.  (see earlier blog for detail)

Then we took our text and selected six lines that were our favorite.  From that we'd use the power of consonants and vowels to magnify certain words and sounds.  We worked on how the sounds can move into your body.  Which basically ends up in ten people bouncing around the room OOHing and AHHing and making baby or monkey sounds and hissing like snakes.  Don't get me wrong.  I get it.  By making such sounds clear and putting emphasis on particular things, it can change an entire speech as well as it's emotional impact.  That being said, when I'm in a mood, the last thing I want to be doing is flailing my arms like a ninny and moo-ing like a bloody cow. 
I give myself a minute.  I acknowledge the restrictions my closed mind is putting on my body.  I note that I've shut down and am beginning to sulk.  I realize I am living in my head.  But at that time, in that space, sometimes you just have to say FUCK IT.  This is where I am today. 
However, when you are doing 8 shows a week in a large theatre, you will not be able to tell stage managers and directors to sit and rotate.  So you must push through.  I tried.  I assure you, it was not my best work.  This was the first day that I felt like the old actor I used to be.  Completely limited and reserved.  And that just pissed me off more.  Which then causes you to tense up more.  Which then makes you perform even worse than before.  Haven't quite found out how to untie the knot once it's tangled, yet.

But I do know that when I am frustrated, I have to allow myself to be frustrated. And remember that that's part of the growth.  ....it just sucks.

We did this one exercise where you take your text and have a lead reader.  Then three other members will chime in with sounds that they hear and kind of chant or evolve the sound while you proceed.

Example- TEXT:  Is this a dagger which I see before me?
Sounds Like (the sounds in the parentheses are what the other members are chanting):
 Is (zzzz) this(sssssss) a DAggerrrrr which(ch-ch-ch) I (ssss)see before me(eee)?

  This is basically what a greek chorus is and what we'll be dealing with.  And what makes me incredibly uncomfortable.  I understand realism.  This, well, this is a different way of thinking.  One that I hope to learn....or at least be able to contribute to.  It is a form that you cant intellectualize too much.  Unfortunately my group consisted of four over thinkers (myself included).  So while the other groups were hurling themselves around the room screaming like banshees, we were sitting in a circle doing our best to make noises.  At one point we couldnt even hear each other with the ruckus in the room.  The teacher apparently noticed our frustration and came over and basically said "these are the given circumstances.  You must work around the noise. Don't try to talk over them.  Work within them."  ....what?  I'm sorry.  I CANT HEAR YOU!!!!  What kind of a;sodfjaoerifm advice is that???   I don't know why it irked me so badly. I don't know why I had the worst urge to tear this woman a new one.  And I'm still trying to pin it down.  And this is what I've come up with.
Reasons Stacy Internally Turned into the Incredible Hulk----
1.  woke up on the wrong side of bed
2.  soaked socks all day long
3.  hate to not understand or be bad at things right off
4.  hate not being given good work conditions
5.  hate having time constraints
6.  hate being in pain and feeling stiff
7.  feel helpless when other group members shut down and therefore give nothing.
8.  feel angry when people say to "just deal with it".  It demeans my problems and makes me feel small and stupid.
9.  am disappointed I ate that brownie for lunch and am now eating icecream.
10.  Have low patience when people talk just to say something or do not formulate their opinions before speaking.  (yes, I do realize this makes me intolerant and ugly. patience, stacy. patience.)
11. am wishing I were an even tempered lass who was soft spoken and went with the flow because maybe then I wouldnt have a problem with being an arm flailing ninny who bounces around the room making monkey sounds. but know very damn well that's not in my genetic make up. 

We must identify why things go awry.  Because then we can break down the barriers that stop us from achieving our goal.  And we can get out of our own way.  And when we can't do that?  (because somedays we just fail.) We buy chocolate icecream and shortbread cookies and eat them. And then we try again tomorrow.  Hopefully with an open heart and an open mind. 

But for now, I'm eating ice cream.

Never let them see you sweat.

Glaswegian radio today takes place in my kitchen.  Farm girl Haley brought her harp there to play us a piece she composed while MC made dinner, Marousa Ball mixed a salad, and I sipped cinnamon tea.  Such a normal feel to something so bizarre.  As I go back to my room, I hear the bagpipe playing a few floors below.  He should be shot.

Remind me never to wait three days to blog again.  We live lifetimes in a single day here and now I feel like there's just too much that has happened.  But here's the gist.

We met all three of our writers that will be writing plays for us.  No matter what happens, I know I will not be disappointed.  All three writers have something so solid about their pieces, with actual things to say.  I'd say, if I were to categorize them:  Rona Munro is a writer for fanciful and whimsy, Lewis Hetherington is the intellectual, and Ollie Emanuel is the grit.  I wouldn't mind being a part of any option.

Annoying annecdote of the day.  Our fire alarm at housing has gone off three times this week. (And NO, before you say it, none of those were my fault.)  But really, if you cry wolf that many times, when there is a real fire all of us will just stay in our rooms, throw up our hands and say "f&ck it.  burn the effer up."  The first two times I would start down the SEVEN flights of stairs and it would always go off before i even managed to get to the third floor.  One of those times it went off three times in a span of 10 minutes.  I was going up and down the steps like a freaking Chutes and Ladders game.  And all it did was give me buns of steel and a bad attitude.

Our major class for Tuesday was in Neutral Mask.  For those of you unfamiliar with mask work, it involves putting on a mask (that has a neutral face on it) to cover your features except for your eyes.  In this, you do not rely on your facial expressions to do the acting for you.  You rely purely on your body's movement.  It's also an exercise to bring you back down to the very basics of movement.  How do you move with the most purpose but using the least amount of excess.  Economical, unembellished, movement.  In this way, you have a blank slate or canvas upon which to build a character on.  After all, not every character will have your bad habits, your mannerisms, your gestures.  Many of which you don't even realize you have.  For the most part, it was very useful.  I had already done some mask work at Studio 5 in Brooklyn and was semi familiar with it.  There were times though when you just felt stupid. (i.e. pushing your way through imaginary fog.  we spent a bit of time on the difference between the movement of pulling back a curtain, pushing fog, and swatting at a fly.  Apparently, all are similar but not the same....AKA zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz).

Wednesday we dealt with two classes.  A voice technique class and the stanislavski class again.  The voice class, usually something that I look forwards to was a bit stressful.  We were required to use our lower register (the low male voice) and at full volume, recite a monologue from Taming of the Shrew.  Our teacher was convinced that what we were doing was healthy and safe for our voices and that the pain we were feeling was just the muscles being unused to working.  However, as a singer and trained actor I can tell you for certain. This. is. not. true.  I have been horse all day today.  Sure I feel the onset of a cold as well.  But there is a definite difference between healthy and unhealthy tiredness in the human voice.  Some of my other cohort felt the same way. 

The Stanislavski class was once again frustrating, but as with the last time, it was a bit more organized and had more of a purpose.  We all sat in chairs randomly around the room.  We take in our surroundings.  And when we are ready, we go with impulse.  It could be anything.  A piece of tape is on the wall and you want to pull it down.  So you get up and do so.  Then you see the piano in the corner.  You want to bang on it.  So you do.  You want to tip all the chairs upside down.  So you do.  But even more so, if you don't want to do anything. You don't.  If you want to watch someone else do something, you do.  It's all about listening to the THOUGHT, FEEL, ACTION that we naturally work with.  You see the mirror.  You want to blow on it and draw.  You go do it.  23 people exploring and playing in a room for a half an hour is pretty entertaining.  People chucking tennis balls, one girl made a make shift car out of the chairs, another made a huge tower out of them.  One guy put a small table on his back like a turtle while a girl decided to use it as a drum.  It was like being in a playground at recess all over again.  What is the point you ask?  We work with impulse every moment.  Often we stop ourselves from acting on it, but it's still there.  By releasing it, you have the freedom to try things without censor.  And you can create emotional memory between each other, relationships that can translate into your characters later on.

Though it was a ten hour day, it was also K's birthday.  So most of us went to the Flying Duck (pub in a shady alley way.  totally awesome place) for some libations.  Slowly I am getting to know others.  The jack and cokes helped pave the way, naturally.

Today was more of the nerve day.  We shared our monologues.  My monologue was one of my audition pieces from Henry VI part 3- Shakespeare.  It went well.  I felt good doing it.  Did I freak out before hand?  absolutely.  Did I panic about words?  Yup.  Was my heart beating so hard at one point that I heard it in my ears? Oh yeah.  Did I mess up?  No. For as Faith says, Never let them see you sweat.
I am happy with what I put out there.  It was polished and it served it's purpose.  And I'm thankful that I held my own.  It had been so long since I performed anything for anyone.  And I certainly didn't want to be the weakest link among these new colleagues.  I do feel that I still am missing that certain something.  That "it" factor.  I still am very much a representational actor.  But a good one.  Looking forward to getting better and hopefully finding a way to become the experiencing actor that I want to be.
The others in my cohort...well let's just say I'm very excited to be working with them.  There is definitely some wonderful talent and humor in this group.  It's reassuring to know that I will be pushed by them and challenged.  We then were assigned our first play as an ensemble project.  I am in the play "Pool (No Water)" which will be going up in two weeks.  It's not a formal performance but more of a collaborative two week workshop exploring contemporary theatre written in Greek Chorus Style.  yeah...I don't quite understand it either. 

After class we headed for one quick beer at the Walkabout(ended up turning more into a two hour talk about disney films and sex.  not together).  1.50GBP beer, which tasted as cheap as it cost but did the job.  Lot of laughter and felt good and comfortable for the first time in a social setting. 

I am happy here.  And that's huge.

Look, all I want is a hug. Where are you going?

This weekend was filled with catching up, but also getting to know Glasgow a bit more.  Saturday was laundry while watching the six channels of television on the communal bigscreen in the basement.  Two things I have learned about british telly.  1.  Their reality shows are just as tacky as ours.  2.  The american tv that they actually get, does not speak well of our country.  (case in point.  Bridezillas, the X Factor, Smallville, and Frasier.)  These are the legacies we leave behind, people. 

Following that, I read 60 pages of Stanislavsky, a play called "Pool (No Water)", and the greek "Theban Plays".  Then cleaned room.  Such tediousness.  But this allowed me to have a beautiful Sunday where I discovered the West End area.  Now, I say discovered but rather it was an aimless wander of doom.  I told Katem (girl from my program) that I'd meet her at this "bookclub" in about 45min.  I thought, oh please, i'm from nyc, I can walk this shiz in no time.  ...an hour and fifteen minutes later...  But I will say it was a fantastic way to see Glasgow.  (See fb photos).  I walked over a highway, through the dodgy sort of town, through Kevingrove Park (absolutely lovely), through residential areas (insert text to Katem where I begged her to give me directions here), past vintage shops, privately owned restaurants with names like "Naked Soup", and huge cathedrals (Found the only presbyterian church i've seen so far).  Now, the west end is a place that has a smaller community feel.  Gone are the Starbucks and T-Mobiles.  Here, you have fruits and veggies that are grown at home.  It has a wonderful tempo, this side of town. 
As I finally made it to the Hillhead Bookclub, Katem was sitting outside.  This place is like my dream hangout.  You walk in and there are twinkly lights all over the ceiling.  It's old and dark inside (it used to be a cinema) with etched ceilings and moldings.  There are chandeliers but also lots of colors.  Mismatched old chairs and settees, beat up velour chaise/sofas.  Dark wooded bar fully stocked.  It was like walking into an updated 1920's bootlegger speakeasy.  Great music.  And here's where it gets good.  They have board games you can play, a corner where there's a ping pong table, a corner where you can play old school video games, wonderful (cheap) food and coffee.  If you order tea, they bring you your own teapot with cup and saucer.  If you just want water, they bring out a carafe with mint and strawberries in the water.  They let you sit for hours without bothering you.  It is truly my new favorite place.  Apparently it also turns into a bit of a nice hotspot at nights.  Oh so worth going to.  Joanna (from Dublin) also dropped by and the three of us sat with no agenda or timetable. 
On the walk home, Katem showed me the glory that is LupePintos.  This is the store/mecca that sells american odds and ends like Pumpkin pie mix, stove top stuffing, marshmallow fluff, hershey's choc syrup, and (drum roll please) JIFFY PEANUT BUTTER.  I'm tearing up right now thinking of it.  These are things you cannot get here in Scotland.  I know it sounds silly but trust me, the minute you can no longer have something, is the exact minute you begin to crave it.  I find most things in life are like that. 

Today was back to work.  Our Voice Technique class began again. Instead of butt jiggling though, we flipped over to the otherside.  Then moved on to more vocal work of intoning and listening as other's got their one-on-one's with Ros.  There were a couple of instances where I was truly moved or got chills by the work of others.  Two girls in particular, have very light musical voices.  When they found their power in the lower register, it was shocking.  All of us at one point had leaned over with our mouths dropped open, gaping at the change. 

The last class was from 6pm-9pm.  And it was the frustrating one again about stanislavsky.  I will say the professors were slightly more on the same page this time.  They at least had a conversation about the class prior.  There was still far too much talking.  Explaining things is fine, but over talking can be damaging.  It can take a simple task and complicate it.  It also doesn't help that we are a bunch of highly educated people who are used to trying to look for deeper meaning in something.  But sometimes, the answer is the most obvious.  "Why did you eat that apple?" Well, I could say it's because the color red has a psychological pull to the human brain.  Or that my mother fed me gala apples and it's a fond memory of summers making apple cider.  I could say all kinds of prolific things like that.  But the truth is, "Why did you eat that apple?"  Well...because I was hungry.

We did do one fascinating exercise though.  I don't even know how to explain it properly.  You have a partner.  You stand facing each other about 20ft away from each other.  You cannot speak to them, you focus only on them, looking straight into their eyes.  The objective is to walk towards each other, meet, and embrace (hug).  But you can only move towards each other on instinct.  You stand, look at them, and move ONLY when you feel you want to move.  You take that person in, see if they give you permission, and enter their personal space.  It's very hard not to just move because you feel like nothing's happening or not happening fast enough.  And with people staring at you, you have to fight any self awareness or consciousness.  It is about that person with you.  It is what they are giving you, and what you take.  You go from Thought, to Feeling, to Action. 
Look at them.  Do they look welcoming? (thought) Will they accept your advance? (thought) 
Yes.  They will.  How do I feel about that? (Feeling).  I feel good.  I want to advance.
You take a step forward (action). 
But something in their eyes changes.  They take a step back. 
Did I do something wrong? (thought) ....breathe.  stay still.  focus.  Look into their eyes.  What are they saying? (thought)

and so on.

And it's funny.  My partner SW, whom I didn't know very well, we had a moment where he backed up when I advanced.  And it literally hurt my feelings.  Like a slap in the face.  Because in the exercise, you are required to open yourself up.  To become vulnerable which is enhanced so much more when you look straight into another person's eyes.  This exercise lasts about fifteen minutes (sometimes you never even make it to the embrace.)  When is the last time you looked at someone straight on for even a minute let alone a quarter of an hour?

At the end, SW and I were but two steps from each other.  There was a definite connection and yet both of us hovered.  We later both found out that he wanted to hug me and I wanted to hug him.  What stopped us?  He mentioned he was unsure whether I would just end up turning into a praying mantis and taking a piece of him.  And I was afraid he'd step away from me again.  We both were on the verge of completing our objective but fear of rejection stopped us.  We were just not couragious enough.  Which is sad and yet somehow beautiful. 

The exercise ended with everyone "thanking" their partner by giving each other the hug they may not have received.  Now, friends, as I have said before, I'm not a touchy person in general.  Not because I don't want to be, but more that I think perhaps that fear of rejection is tattooed in my brain.  But this hug with SW was like a completion.  It was an experience we both had, and it was the most natural thing to finish it. 

In order to move audiences as well as ourselves, we must open up to vulnerabilities.  We must show ourselves, but not JUST show.  We must put it out there into other people's hands and allow them to either accept or reject what we give them.  It isn't as trite as giving someone a penny or a pat on the arm.  It is offering up who you are, your very heart, and saying "do with it what you will".  It is trusting a stranger to not step back from you.  But most of all, it is being strong enough to do it again and again, even IF they step back.  Knowing full well that you will survive rejection.  It stings.  But then you must open up again.  Because it is in those moments of pure openness that we find human life.  That we can create the human spirit of a character.

running, singing, and a naked man. ...do i have your attention?

Got to sleep in today.  Then went straight to a movement class at 1:30pm.  And boy, did we move.  We began with running around the room in a sprint.  Friends, you know very well that I'm not a runner.  I will frolick, I will tip toe, I will skip, I will gallivant.  But running is something I do not enjoy. I do it because it's the only thing that really works the entire body, but I don't like it.  And doing it when most of the people who are running with you are about six feet tall is just cruel.  I kept up though.  Then we ran the other way around the room.  Ok.  Getting a little winded.  Then we did the football side gallop thing again.  (I'm starting to pout in between gasping for air).  Then we run again.  Ok, so maybe my clothes are fitting better and I'm gaining stamina, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to internally bitch the entire way. 
We then are taught a warm up that will eventually only take about 7 minutes to complete.  However, it took an hour and a half to learn.  And parts of it brought back awful memories of 6th grade P.E. class.  We had to do the tripod where you are upside down trying to balance your knees on your elbows, only now without having your head on the ground.  We did (or rather I attempted) the thing where you're on your knees and you jump to your feet.  Yeah, that didn't work for me.  I ended up giving my left foot a horrible floor burn.  But all that aside, if I truly put into practice this "warm up" I could seriously make a difference in my body.  Discipline discipline discipline.  ugh.

After the class, I hobbled (and I do mean hobbled with sore foot, bruised ass, red knees, and shaking thighs) to a open Musical Theatre Masters class.  The students were singing their audition pieces and seeing as how we met some of them yesterday, it was a nice way to support them.  It was nice to hear some musical theatre again.  I won't say I missed the rambunctious-ness of the Musical crowd, but there's just something so wonderful about good acting mixed with good singing.  Now, mind you, this was not the case for the entire group.  But there was a wonderful rendition of "I, Who Have Nothing" from Smokey Joe's Cafe by a scottish guy.  He acted the BLEEP outta that thing. 

Our Dept Head announced that our cohort will in fact be performing our audition monologue next thursday for the class.  I couldnt be more pleased...oh...right...must brush up on it now...right.  Must remember that I have nothing to prove.  Just get up there, and do your job.  I find that's the key to solving most of my nerves.  If you remember that it's not about you, it's about the character and the play (or most often, about whoever you are talking to in the play), than you wont get in your own way. 

Following the musical theatre, most of our cohort decided to go back to the Tramway theatre to see a different play.  Stopping for dinner first, I ended up with three of the cohort that I don't know very well.  Since our group has been split up, we tend to live lifetimes in one day and never really bond with the other half.  It's an interesting dynamic being with the others.  Like it's the first day of orientation all over again. 

The show itself was fascinating.  It was called "Saturday Night".  I don't even know how to explain it.  The set was as if a house was cut in half and what separates the audience from the characters is a big sheet of plexiglass.  kind of like an ant farm.  As the play happens, we cannot hear ANY of the dialogue.  So we sat there for two hours listening to whatever soundtrack and sound effects played on the speakers.  An entire play that had words, but you couldnt hear them.  And yet, it was riveting.  It did get a little on the bizarre side when it went abstract and brought in gorillas and space men.  And I did actually watch a full on naked guy run around the house.  And it did involve watching people using the toilet. ...but it made sense.  In a way, we were the voyeurs, watching the common lives of strangers.  (well, until the gorillas came in.)  Either way, it made you think and it made a beautiful picture.  Reading body language to tell a story.  Good stuff.

Longest day ever, oh so tired,  but oh so happy.

butt jiggles and tension.

FOR THOSE OF YOU READING, I WILL WARN YOU THAT THIS ONE DEALS WITH A LOT OF ACTOR JARGON. AND IT'S EPIC.  YOU MAY WANT TO CHECK BACK FOR FUTURE MORE HUMOROUS POSTS. BUT IF YOU ARE CURIOUS AS TO WHAT I AM LEARNING AS WELL AS WHAT I DO, READ ON.

I'm exhausted.  My body hurts everywhere.  My brain can barely function.  And I don't think I've been this content in a long time.

Glaswegian Radio this evening was La Vie en Rose on the accordion on the walk home, Beethoven on the electric guitar, followed by a girl somewhere down the hall practicing the harp.  Very calming.

Yesterday was a massive learning day.  It began with a four hour Nadine George technique voice class.  Our teacher, Ros Steen is a goddess.  She's an older english woman with what looks like the onset of arthritis.  She's sharp as a ticonderoga and has a mini tantrum everytime you talk out of turn.  These four hours were revolutionary.  The warm up itself lasted an hour.  We had a partner, one laying on the ground, the other performing all sorts of things on that person.  From rubbing, massaging, leg lifting and shaking, correcting your alignment, and yes, butt jiggling.  Believe it or not, once you get past the fact that you just met this person and their hands are pushing your ass back and forth, the exercise is quite fantastic.  On the exhale you sigh out strongly, keeping your jaw open while your partner jiggles your bum back and forth causing the air you are exhaling from your mouth to release deeper.  It releases a lot of tension.  Most of us, especially women, don't realize how much tension we hold in our hips and upper buttocks.  But it's just another one of those weird actor things that you step back and go, yup, I just did that.  "Hello, my name is Stacy, and I'll be jiggling your butt today." 

There was also an exercise where you walk around breathing in deeply through the nose, out through the mouth with jaw dropped about two inches, and soft focus (using peripheral) in your eyes.  When Ros signaled, you'd stop, find a partner, and wrap your arms around them so you could feel their backs and then you breathe in sync.  It was the most comforting thing.  Now, as most of you know, I'm not a touchy feely kind of person.  But there's something to be said for the instant connection and bond you build by being in tune with someone.  Even a stranger.  And seeing how we are all going through this intense experience together, it was nice to jump start that connection.  Cause Lord knows, if left to my devices, it would be next July and I'd still not be at the hugging stage.  Would be lucky if I'm at the fist bumping stage.

Finally we had our One-on-One coaching in front of the class.  I popped up first.  I've been doing that a lot lately.  If it scares me, don't think about it.  Just do.  The coaching was discover the four voices that all of us have.  The high female (something your voice does in times of wonder or timidity), the low female (the sensual tone), the high male (I find this the most comfortable.  It sit in the chest and is a nice clean sound), and then the low male (the one the reverberates the deep and low inside you.  holds most of the power).  On the sound AW, mouth open wide, you take a breath, and in your low male voice, you intone the Middle C note from the piano.  Don't sing it.  Then you keep that tone all the way until you literally run out of air.  I don't mean when you stop making a pretty sound, or when you get bored hearing your self.  But until you gurgle, choke, or wheeze out the last of the sound.  I found that emotions are connected to that much free sound.  The others that followed me did as well.  Some were on the verge of tears afterwards because we never have let out that much from our bodies.  The last of the sound is like the repressed emotion that you always held back because society, your parents, your teachers, the bully at school, or even yourself told you that it was bad and unattractive.  That release doubled the size of some peoples' voices.  And it brought color to other wise monotone sounds.  You end the intone by then speaking a line of text in that guttural newfound power.  "IS THIS A DAGGER WHICH I SEEEEEE BEFORRRRRE MEEEEEEE".  The result, absolute chills.

The next class went until 9pm.  And it was the most frustrating experience.  Not in the content, but in the delivery.  The class was an intro to Stanislavsky and our Realism project which will be Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard.  I have no problem with Stan the Man or his views.  He even says in the text book that you can take what you will and toss out the rest.  That being said, the two professors teaching the class came in totally unprepared, disagreed with each the entire time, and damned the very text that they made me go out and pay $40 bucks for.  I'm a linear thinker.  Give me an outline and bullet points and THEN deviate from the plan.  But this was just a bunch of esoteric spouting in which I was more confused than educated.  But I will say that I did learn something from the text on my own.  Stan discusses the difference between Experiencing Actors and Representation Actors.  Experiencing is just that.  Experiencing fully and in the present at all times through both the rehearsal and performance process.  Representation acting is experiencing during rehearsal and then putting it into muscle memory and then in performance you act without experience. Confused yet?  Basically it's like this.  You are in a play where your parents die and you grieve on stage.  If you are Experiencing, you experience that grief every time at every performance.  In representation, you experience grief in rehearsal, pay attention to what that does to your body, your face, your eyes, etc.  Then rehearse it enough that it becomes muscle memory.  So when at performances, you can appear to be grieving, the audience sees you grieve, but you are not actually feeling anything.  Both are considered artforms.  However, representation is missing that "it" factor.  That thing that makes you lose breath in a scene when watching, or the thing that moves you to tears.  It's still excellent acting, but Stan describes it as a bit cold though highly polished. 
Why am I bothering telling you all this?  Well, because I've realized what type of actor I am, and what I wonder if I can be.  Most actors use a bit of both.  And personally, I think to be an experiencing actor at all times is a bit dangerous.  Regardless, I am a Representational actor.  And that sucks.  I don't want to be cold and just polished.  But how on earth do you learn to experience.  It's like telling someone how to feel.  (Though Stan says feelings have nothing to do with it).  I don't know.  I just figured that feeling and experiencing were always connected. 

Moving on.

Today was a playdate with the MA Musical theatre students.  We played theatre games and got to know them.  One particular game was when we made a huge map of the earth and the teacher asked us to stand in a place where we'd like to end up, an aspiration.  It took me a minute.  Everyone else immediately moved to which ever country they thought of.  But I kind of wandered somewhere around the Atlantic Ocean area, unsure.  The truth is, I have absolutely no idea where I want to go or be.  I still feel like I havent found my "home" yet.  Or havent made one.  So in the end, I put one foot on NYC and one foot on London.  Because isn't that the ultimate dream?  To be a WORKING actor and be bi coastal?  Or tricoastal for that matter.  I'd love to just bounce from east/west coast to europe.  why not?

Lunch break is when I went out with a few of my cohort for my first fish and chips experience.  So. Good.  But ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh what a bad idea to do before a four hour movement class.  And the class started out with sprints around the room and galloping sideways like a NFL football player.  By the end, I knew that I had to join a gym.  Because this is ridiculous.  It was shear bullheaded stubborness that prevented me from sitting my perfectly jiggled bum on the floor and taking a nap.

We continued the aforementioned bamboo stick exercise but with 3, 5, and 6 people this time.  We did our basic balance warmups.  And we revisited and mimicked the walk of people we had observed on the street. 

The majority of the lesson though was based on the 7 styles of tension. (how we hold our bodies)
1. super relaxed (which sort of resembles a person in the desert, dragging himself towards an oasis).  When I had mono back in 2001, I hadnt gotten out of bed for close to 15 days.  After that time your body loses connection and muscle and doesnt want to listen to your mind.  That's kind of what it is.  You heavily try to lift yourself off the ground, flopping back down when you can't sustain yourself.
2. relaxed.  (basically like walking around after a massage.  or after toking up. the movement is slow and fluid, but supported.)
3. economic.  Moving with purpose.  Going somewhere to get there.  Doing what needs to be done, then moving on.
4. discovery.  A sort of hesitant movement.  Like a dog that sniffs at a new dog.  Approach, back off, circle round.
5. I forget what Mark called this one. But basically it like a higher energy more manic way of getting things done.  Like how you clean your house when your in-laws are coming over. 
6. Commedia.  this can be anger or joy.  Its how you hold your body in those mind sets. 
7. Hypertension.  It's when you brace every muscle you have as tight as you can, curling in on yourself, shaking from the effort, practically becoming immobile.  It's a movement of high stress and panic.

Listen.  I know I've probably just bored you to tears, but I'm really loving this stuff.  It is so useful in building a character and writing it down like this is a grounding thing for me.  When I act, I want you to believe me.  I want you to be moved and experience.  And each of these lessons is just another layer of that onion that's been peeled.   It's only my first week and I feel not only that I'm learning, but that I am pretty good at this so far.  Which is a reassurance I deeply need.  I hope I can sustain this level of understanding when we finally begin working on actual plays and developing characters. 

Now that I'm here and I've begun to want things again, I realize...I want this.  And I want it bad.  There. I said it.

Cross gender casting at it's finest.(or) I'm Breathing, Join the Party.

On Glaswegian Radio today, I found it to be an ecclectic mix.  The walk home was of a white scottish girl in worn out multi colored leggings and neon blue trainers (sneakers), with a small speaker and microphone, freestyle rapping....oh so badly.  It sort of went like this- "eh, i'm freestyle, in style, i like peas and carrots, ...erm...gjdsoijdglkbvm...erm...i lost my words, i forgot the words.  go 'head an laugh at me. erm...i'm rapping...yeah."  BRILLIANT!   Then back at the flat the "channel" switched to bagpipes.  A student was rehearsing somewhere downstairs for...well he's still going actually.  I think it's been for about two hours now.  At least he's not bad at it.

This morning. 9am class and it's for the purpose of our research papers.  Or at least I thought it was.  Two hours later, I'm was still not sure what I was supposed to get out of it.  Frankly, all I really learned was the very nice professor's resume.  Luckily, when I went to "real" college back in my Business school days, we wrote many a research paper that averaged 25pages each.  So 3,000 words should be alright.  I'm mulling over doing it on gender reversal for the play Othello.  But we'll see.  Stay tuned.

Speaking of gender questions.  One of the exercises we did (and I have no idea how it relates to research) was to perform a scene from a well known play that takes place in an interior (kitchen, dining room, den, etc).  Then eventually we move the scene "outdoors" and see what in our environment changes.  We (my partners AK, NB, and Jr) decided to improve a scene from Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire.  Not knowing we were going to have to share with the class, NB and I decided to flip roles.  I would be Stanley (for those not familiar, that would be Marlon Brando in the film), and NB (a guy) would be Blanche (Vivian Leigh).  Yeah.  Although, what should have been a train wreck turned out to be a fun and purposeful scene.  We completed the objective, went with the flow (shocking I know.  I don't know how I did it either since it's against my grain.) , and may I just say that NB was a phenomenal Blanche.  Two enthusiastic thumbs up to Mr. Dubois.

The weather here has finally turned.  Indian summer has chilled into a crisp fall.  Gusts of wind hustle through alley ways and the smell in the air sends thoughts of jack-o-lanterns and apple cider.  I wonder if I can get those things here...

The only other class we had today was a four hour Voice class.  Not singing.  Voice.  As in how to properly use it.  It involved some Tai-Chi, making siren sounds in your throat, whimpering like a puppy, and most importantly...breathing.  Now you may think that's easy but I will tell you that I'm a HORRIBLE breather.  In that, I sometimes forget to do it.  If I'm tense, or concentrating too hard on something, I'll hold my breathe.  Breathing is connected to everything you do, feel, experience.  When you see a car accident, what do you do?  You probably gasp, but then, you hold your breath.  In times of stress, we kick into survival mode.  Your body says "Gah! Something's wrong!  Hold on to your oxygen, kids, 'cause I don't know when you'll get more!"
It's also very connected to stage fright.  I especially have a deep anxiety problem when it comes to performance.  My hands go cold, my heart beats a mile a minute, and I get sick to my stomach even.  Especially when I have to sing.  Oh, I can't tell you what horrors go on inside my mind before a song.  But I've learned that once I slow down my breathing, and warm my hands to circulate the blood, it becomes bearable.  This, however, does not always work.  And that's when the panic attacks happen.  I've only had one full fledged one before.  It was in my third year at AMDA.  It's probably one of the scariest things that I've ever experienced.  Hyperventilating, unable to speak or control your breath, your whole body shaking, and tears that just keep streaming from your eyes.  And you never see it coming.  The smallest thing could set it off.
What's scared me this summer is I started to feel that familiar pressure on my chest.  That shallowness of breath.  That ball of pure emotion bubbling to the surface.  And I've been able to keep it contained for the most part though it has given me a couple of sleepless nights.  But this new lesson today, just the couple of hours, showed me I have SO far to go.  The amount of breath I waste or hold, is connected to the emotions that block me (anyone) from being in real (I wont say control, but) harmony.  It blocks you from using whatever facilities you have to make a character alive and real.  I think that's part of that abominable phrase that I hate- "To Let Go."
We ended our session by describing our voices and how we feel about them.  I noticed a trend.  Almost everyone began with "well, my friends tell me" or "I've been told."  I've noticed this a lot in people in general, but particularly artists.  We are so afraid to speak for ourselves about ourselves.  Do we fear that we'll be looked on as cocky, just because we like something of ourselves?  Why do we apologize for who we are.  Because that's what that is.  There is no one in the world that knows you better than YOU.  So why would you tell everyone what someone else thinks of you and your talents?  I do it, too.  Constantly.  But everytime I start to apologize for who I am or what I do, everytime I feel the need to ignore a compliment and follow it with putting myself down (i.e. things like "you have great hair."  "oh no, it's so stringy." etc) I try to remember that if I voice my worth, it's an affirmation not only to others, but to myself. 
Once we are back to the world of auditions and unfair show business, no one will be going out of their way to bolster your confidence.  It's something you have to do for yourself.  And we had better start now.  Myself included.

I'll end this particular note with a huge thank you to D.  I received a lovely and thoughtful (late, due to the malfunction of our school mailsystem) birthday gift, that had me smiling like a fool all the way home.  So thank you.

Well, today's note was a bit heavy but I can pretty much guarantee that tomorrow will be a bit more fascinating.  Tomorrow, we learn vocal technique and the art of....the butt jiggle.  oh god.

xoxo

Pat your head, rub your belly...now walk.

On Glaswegian radio this evening, a student downstairs is practicing a scottish flute of some sort.  The tune is from The Lord of the Rings.  It's like being in the Shire, people. 

Today was the first day of class, and I have to add that no other profession in the world, save acting, will begin with teaching you how to walk.  But we'll come back to that a bit later...

Last night I read and finished much of the reading assigned.  Read the Cherry Orchard again just to see if it would bring something new now that I know I'll be playing a character from it. ...it didn't really.  For something that is deemed Realism, I didn't feel all that real most of the time.

But about 730pm or so (or as they say here, half past seven.  of which it always takes me a moment to convert that in my head) a slip of paper was shoved under my room door.  It was a letter from one of the fellow flat mates that I hadnt met, asking for a sit down in the kitchen.  Now I immediately think, right then, time to set out the rules and such.  But no.  It was so much better. 

The flatmate in question's name is Marousa.  A psychology major from Greece who is basically Lucille Ball incarnate.  I meet this girl and she is this big bubble of joy with a giggle that makes you grin till your face practically splits in two.  She plopped down at the kitchen counter with us (MC showed as well as Farmgirl Haley and Tinkle the Ivories Chen.  Ok, so I'm just giving everyone nicknames like they are in the mafia but you get the idea of who they are better I think.)  Anyway, Marousa Ball plops down and starts unloading these massive grocery bags.  She brought us a big box of chocolate, Pictionary, and Cranium board games.  With a giggle she explained that she just wanted to get to know us.  So we stayed up drawing clues and laughing at each other when the translation was completely botched.  I suppose it's to be expected with 1 Britain, 1 Greek, 1 Chinese, and 2 Americans.  (Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.  A Brit, a Greek, a Chinese....walk into a bar...).

This morning was the official name change of our school.  As some of you know it used to be called RSAMD (Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama).  Which now is The Royal Conservatoire of Scotland.  Perhaps the first was not high falootin' enough, I don't know.  But the result was that they put on exhibitions of work.  One of which was last year's MACCT cohort putting on monologues and scenes from Shakespeare.  I popped in before class just in time to see the Prologue from Henry V.  OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh for a muuuuuuuuuuuuuuse of fire.  All you AMDA people are laughing or rolling your eyes at me right now.  I know, I know.  I thought so, too.  But this one was...different.  He was very good and very...different.  Did I mention he was different?  He acted out a literal movement for each. single. word.   I have to say that I actually liked it.  Even though it did take forever.  It was like watching someone run a marathon with how physical he was, running all about.

THEN.  Our very first class began.  And it was a four hour movement class with our department head, Mark Saunders.  The first thing we did was very much like patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time.  A lesson at constant movement and coordination.  Surreal really, when you think "yep. this is my job."  But it's fascinating how little we are aware of our own bodies.  When was the last time you looked straight in the full length mirror and took stock of what you saw?  Is one shoulder lower than the other?  Where is your weight distributed?  Where do you feel your breath?  Are you HOLDING your breath?  You see, unless you know your body and its tendencies, you cannot possibly create someone else.  And that's what you want to do, create human life with a background, a present, and hopefully a future. 
The next exercise involved you and a partner and a very long stick of bamboo.  It resembled a switch and to my thoughts, we were going to be walloped when we did something wrong.  (not really. but the thought did cross my mind).  The point was to have one person stand on each end and lift the stick with a single finger.  You look into the other's eyes, and only their eyes.  And then you move about the room, any which way, but still being careful not to drop the stick.  You can switch back and forth who's leading and following but eventually a story comes out.  Some people appeared to be brother and sister in their movements.  Some, a battle of swords and wits.   My partner, K, and I...well, you know how I am.  I tend to lead.  So after he and I got up for our turn to show the class, everyone reflected what it was they saw.  Some of the feedback was as follows: "It looked as though it was between trainor and dog."  "Stacy the dominatrix.  Teasin' him."  "Stacy controlled and tested him." 
That being said, it was a success.  It was a story.  And it was enjoyable.  K and I were both receptive to each other.  But go figure, right?  Must remember to follow as well as lead-  lesson of the day.  Not that what I did was bad.  But that that is a default position that I always take: When in doubt, take charge.  I found that when I tried to allow him to lead (key phrase ALLOW him) we dropped the stick more often.  And it took me longer to gain K's trust.  Something to mull over...

Then we spent two hours learning how to walk.  yeah, you heard me.  First we studied each other's walk.  One person would get up and walk around the room.  Then another would walk behind them and copy their stride.  Then overemphasize it.  The first person would step out and watch themselves through the eyes of others.  Fas.cin.ating.  And lots of laughing.  I apparently walk like a new yorker hellbent on getting where I'm going.

Le Coq (the base method taught here) believed that much of our being can be read through the walk.  We dissected each "step" in a step.  Put the heal down, put the ball down, sink your weight down, push forward your weight, lift up on standing foot, lift other knee, kick out foot, and put heel down.  rinse and repeat.  We then spent time taking one of those "steps" and putting more emphasis on it.  (Have I lost you all yet?)  But by emphasizing just one of those steps in your step, you can bring out a character trait that you never knew was there.  By walking heavily on your heels, you can portray cockiness or swagger.  By focusing on the lift up on the standing foot, you can portray an elegant and superior quality.  All these things can be felt and read without a word. 

So.  Homework, should you choose to accept it (it was assigned so I shall do it, too).  Observe someone with a "special" walk.  Now, don't go for easy like the elderly or a three year old.  They are much too easy and pronounced.  You must find a person, and watch them, and decide for yourself which "step" is pronounced,  why is that interesting, and how does that make you perceive them.  I think mine will be the Tinkling the Ivories Chen girl from the kitchen.  She has the most beautiful insecure shuffle of a walk that reflects exactly who she is (as I know thus far.)

In other news, I've had my first American Cuisine Craving.  And you'll never guess what it is.  A SLURPEE.  I would KILL someone for a slurpee right now.  Alas, no 7-11s in sight.  So second piece of homework for you all is to run to your nearest gas station, get a slurpee (not banana flavored, because that's just gross), slurp it down till you get brain freeze, and think of me.  Please and thanks.

This evening I think will be a quiet one for me.  My body is not the body of a 21 year old and I never noticed until this year.  After four hours of running around a large room at top speed, I certainly feel aches in areas I never knew existed.  But it was a good day.  I received very nice feedback from Mark and I take it, acknowledge it, and throw it in the back of my mind.  You can't dwell over the compliments too much, or you'll not see the ditch that you'll fall in coming up in front of you.  But you acknowledge it and let it reassure you that you are in the right place at the right time.  Which I am.

Now excuse me while I hobble off to bed.  :)

Thinking of you  xoxo

Foreign Playground and Little Shoes.

It's been a bit of an Indian Summer here. They say that normally it will be sunny 1 out of every four days or so.  But actually it's been the opposite.  The past week we've been sweating with our fall clothes on and melting in the heated rooms.  Today however, was not that day.  Rain.  Beautiful, dripping, slanted rain.  Feels like back at home.  Even has the curbside puddles that cars whizzing by drench you with.  But unlike NY, the water accumulating is not green.

Yesterday I felt a bit of a rebel and skipped the first seminar.  ...I should have done with the rest of the day as well but the "good student" within screamed at me to get off my bum and go.  The "good student" needs to shut up.  The three meetings were about the Student Union (american equiv= ASB), International Student meeting where all I learned pretty much was that they will kick me out of the country after I graduate, and then the Equality and Diversity seminar where forty five minutes of PC talk could have been wrapped up into a single solitary statement:  Don't be a dick to each other.  End Scene.

Our head of department (Mark Saunders, a name I will no doubt be using often) suggested we check out a seminar that was taking place at one of the big popular theatres in Glasgow, the Tramway.  It is a bunch of theatres that were converted from an old train station.  Some big honcho members of the National Theatre of Scotland and artists of the Scottish community were having a bit of a round table feed back discussion.  Some of the elite will be doing workshops with us in the future, so half the class ended up going. 
We decided, "hey, we're cheap.  and it's only about a 40 minute walk.  we have time.  let's walk it."  ...An hour later, a couple of wrong turns, and a bit of perspiration, we found it.  Definitely off the beaten path.  But the space itself is wonderful. 
The seminar itself was...ok.  At times there was a lot of background and babble.  But I learned an exceptional amount about the Scottish theatre history.  They put on a couple of scenes that I was later told are classic Scottish theatre and...I didn't like it.  What's more is, I didn't get it.  And THAT is what worried me.  I thought, oh no, what if I find I don't like or get all scottish theatre.  But later, I made the spur of the moment decision to stay on and watch the show that was playing "The Missing" by the NTS (nat'l tha of scotland), and it totally changed my mind.  Moral of story:  Never Assume.  Assuming makes an ASS of U and ME.

The original idea was to leave the seminar and go to the planned Fresher's Ball which included a Ceilidh (pronunciation: Kailey. yeah. right.) A ceilidh is a traditional scottish dance and I would have wanted to see it and it would have put me out of my comfort zone, which is I suppose the theme of the week.  But something just told me to stay and watch The Missing.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, people.  This is why theatre is beautiful.  This is why I go.  It was wonderfully written, and WONDERFULLY acted.  The set was simple in that it was a black and white checkered floor with pairs of shoes lining the edges of the stage.  Exposed brick of the old train station smattered the walls.  One of the actors played the cello and there was a cast of five or so.  Each member took many characters and each time they changed roles, they would put on a different pairs of shoes.  A woman of 70 would become a teenager.  A man would become a gossipy old lady.  And they had a moving pixeled screen that would flash and paint pictures that propelled the story forward.  It ended with them standing on chairs, singing something so heartbreakingly scottish, and behind the screen could be seen all the tiny pairs of red children's shoes of those missing children that were abducted.  Oh you had to be there.

It seems that's how it's going to be.  One minute I'll second guess myself, and the next I'll be reassured that I'm exactly where I should be.  I'll question my ability, then realize I'm alright.  Up. Down. Up. Down.  A seesaw.  A merry-go-round.  A swing.  I'm in a foreign playground with scabs on my knees.  Let's see how high I can go.

I've read all three plays now by the writers who will be writing for us.  I can honestly say I liked them all.  Ok.  I LOVED two of them.  I liked and appreciated the third.  Either way,  if there was any question of whether we'd be with talented writers, I no longer worry.  These people are Gifted.  The writers are Oliver Emanuel, Lewis Hetherington, and Rona Munro.  Google.uk that stuff.  We are lucky duckies, friends.

In case you were wondering what was on Glaswegian Radio outside my window, it was the drunken sounds of Red Hot Chili Peppers from the returning students below.  Surprisingly, it was actually quite good.  taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake me to the place i looooooooooooooooooooooove.  take me alllllllllllll the way. ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo (breath) oooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Other than that, I'm afraid I've not any more horribly embarrassing or amusing stories for the moment.  Today I've stayed indoors after a jaunt to the grocery store (see facebook photo of soup can for a good laugh), skyped with mom, dad, and aunt kim, hung out with MC in the kitchen philosophizing over the horrors if we were to ever go blind or deaf (riveting), and studied. 
But never fear, there are plenty more adventures to be had.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up...