THANKFUL. and MEET SOME OF MY FRIENDS.

Alright.  I've neglected this blog long enough.

This week, as mentioned in earlier blog, was the carousel of directors and playwrights.  We were put into three groups and worked a day and a half with each director on scenes from each of the playwrights, as well as sitting down with the playwrights themselves to get to know them and ask as many questions as we'd like.  Intimidating sometimes, lovely all the time.

I'd like to take this opportunity to tell you a little about some members of my cohort.  I've been avoiding giving too many details about them because I want to keep this professional and respectful...and I know they read this blog. :)  But it's the week of thanksgiving and I'm thankful for these people.  And the truth is, I can't really avoid it.  They have become too much apart of my life and I have grown to love them very much.  It's so rare to have so many people together who truly have the same goal: to make GOOD work.  So every so often I think I'll describe a few so that you can really appreciate who I get to be around and feed off of (meant in a non scary uncannibalistic way).

Let's start with the five people that were placed in my group this week. 

AK-  If you met her, you'd think she was from another world.  Like a wood nymph.  Ok, yes her scottish brogue and incredibly long curly brown hair may have tipped you off.  Or perhaps her ecclectic and vintage collection of dresses and jewelry.  I'm telling you, this "look" would never work for anyone but AK.  But it isn't any of this.  It's not even the fact that she has a degree in Medieval sex (the subject. not the doing).  But it's in the twinkle in her green eyes.  AK is beautifully generous in both her acting and her affection towards friends.  Birthdays and holidays are huge with her.  Hugs are, too.  And though she may see herself as awkward, I think she's lovely and charming.  And scrappy.  Underneath all that kindness there's a hint of steel.  The kind where she wouldn't bother with a slap or a claw, she'd just whoop your ass properly.  She's got the worst circulation I've ever seen and could get cold in a hot house.  She has a memory like a steel trap.  And I feel good just being around her.  She's reliable and quirky.  And she loves tuna and banana pizza. ...yeah, I forgive her for that one.

SG-  This man is HYSTERICAL.  He could give you any information about comic books or dungeons and dragons.  He's quick in the mind and just plain adorable.  From the first week or so I felt like I knew him before.  We never discussed being friends, we just were.  He has an awesome wife and two of the cutest little boys ever.  The youngest has the best little belly and the eldest has those eyes that if he asked me if he could stay up for five more minutes, I'd always say yes.  Good thing I'm not in charge.  SG is a wonderful daddy and a truly fun actor.  He's playful and has a very good sense of comedic timing.  Think three stooges or Laurel and Hardy.  He and another girl in our group (AL)  are like this dynamic duo that can get all of us busting out at the seams.  I always feel supported by SG and feel like if I fell on my face he'd laugh while helping me up, but more importantly he'd make me laugh about it, too.  That's what I need, someone to help me laugh at myself and the crap that life chucks at me.  He's got a gift for that.

SM-  If the toothfairy really did exist, I feel like she'd be like SM.  This girl, also scottish, is the kind of person that you'd believe floated in a bubble for fun.  She's light as air and...well...silly.  In the best sense of the word.  If I'm around SM, I verbally vomit anything I'm thinking to her.  That's not something I really do. Ever.  At least not without effort.  But SM will plop herself down next to me, sling her arm around my shoulders, blow her blond fringe from her eyes, and in her soft raspy voice she'll start chattering away.  And before I know it, my mood is lighter, I'm giggling, and have lost track of whatever was bothering me.  SM is the forgetful sort.  And she knows it.  Sometimes she'll concentrate so hard on remembering something and when it is a success she'll do a victory fist pump of joy, "I remembered to text them!"  You'd think she'd won gold at the olympics.  It makes me so happy to be around her.  You just feel five years younger.  And as an actor,  I love watching the wheels turn in her head.  And she constantly surprises me with what she comes up with.  She's always up for trying anything and is truly here just to become better and to live her dream.  It's pure.  And it's infectious.  It's wonderful.

JS-  I've written a bit about him before.  He was also my yasha from the tennis ball blog.  But this was the first week I really got to work closely with him.  The only one of us actually from Glasgow,  JS has the best accent I've ever heard.  And what's more, he's got the best laugh.  He's the type of actor that you trust immediately.  And that is SO rare.  He's not afraid to get it "wrong" because I think (I hope) he realizes that there is no wrong.  Only better.  When acting with him, I can count on him to give as good as he gets.  Because he's one of the most generous actors I've ever worked with.  He keeps a sense of humor, listens, can focus when needed, gives feed back and ideas, and never works in the same way twice.  He's one of the few people that make me nervous because I know he's going to challenge me to be better.  As a person, he's got a good soul.  A dirty mind.  And little boy deviousness that reminds me of my charismatic trouble maker cousin, Justin, who could get you to do the craziest shit just by using his brown eyes and a wicked grin.  JS is someone you people out there will want to work with.  I hope you get the chance.

and finally MAR.  This is the guy you go to coffee with when you need someone to understand you.  This guy's been through hell and back but still knows how to give.  He has an intensity in his acting that is piercing.  And he has will that is like a brick wall.  MAR is soft hearted and thin skinned, but not push over.  You will always know what he is thinking by looking at his face.  Something we both have in common.  He has an addiction to diet coke and technology.  And it's beautiful watching him figure himself out.  I can count on MAR to tell his truth.  Whether I agree or not, I know that that is what he feels.  And I love that.  I never have to worry about walking on egg shells around him because I know that if there's a problem, he'll tell me.  It's one thing I miss about NY.  That mind set of being allowed to be who I am without feeling the need to apologize.  I don't ever feel that around MAR.  We are who we are.  And we like each other for it.  He's a gentleman, he's a thinker, and he's a very good friend.

So now you've met a few. Stay tuned for more of them.  I'm sure they'll make an appearance.

As for the rest of this past week...I've hit some highs and lows.  One of the pieces we rehearsed (One Night in Iran) had me trying to seduce a guy while crawling like a cat across a table that was meant to represent a bed.  Despite the shakiness and squeaking of the table, we pulled it off.  But it was the one play that made me uncomfortable.  Once again hitting insecurities that I just dont want to deal with. ...of course we find out today that we've switched up the groups and will be concentrating the whole of next week on a single play for our presentation on next friday.  guess which play i got? ....looks like I'll be reprising my table cat crawl for the head of our dept, the playwrights, the people from Playwrights Studio, and all of my cohort.  Awesome.  I am very pleased with the director I got though.  If anyone can make me sexy, it's this guy.  He's a directing genius.

Side note:  It's been stormy the past few days but today it was Sunshine and rain at the same time.  My favorite. :)  The rainbows were an excellent touch to my walk home.

On Wednesday we also had our Renaissance auditions.  In the spring we will have two shows that go up in repertory "Measure for Measure" and "the Duchess of Malfi".  I believe we'll only be cast in one.  My audition went as well as I could have hoped.  I tried a new piece (for those of you shakespeare savvy lot, it was Lady Percy from Henry IV part 2).  I'm not sure how much the panel was really paying attention seeing as how they were writing in their notebooks most of the time.  But all I wanted was to have a good audition and interview and I did.  Interviews are hit and miss with me.  I never used to have any anxiety with them but ever since I did the Miss WA IOJD pageant in 2001, I've always been a bit hesitant.  Never will I forget that interview...

Interviewer:  So, Miss Stacy, what's your favorite color and why?
Stacy:  Purple. um...uh...because...because...I like plums.  Plums are purple.  yeah.

oof.  ...well it was a stupid question anyway.  The least they could have done was give me a question that I could have answer "world peace" to.  Ah well.  I fooled those suckers, didn't I?  Ended up being Miss Congeniality instead.  ...it's ok.  You can laugh.  My whole family did, too.  :)

But back to the audition.  It was good.  In the end though, and I'm glad I finally figured this out, it's not something I have any control over.  I pray every time before I go into an audition that I will be able to walk back out of that room knowing I did my very best.  And it's enough.  But whether I get a part (or THE part) is out of my hands.  They may want a 5'8" blond haired skinny Brit for the lead.  I'll never be that.  But I can control what I do inside that room.  It just sucks if you ever get your heart set on a particular role or show.  I've been very careful not to do that here.  But there's still that bit of me that hopes he's looking for a 5'2" American brunette with curves instead.  Won't find out for a couple of weeks.  Will keep you posted.

Other than that, it's been just a blur of plays, scenes, and directors.  Learning how each work and whether we can in fact work with them.  We are all exhausted still but I still have never been happier.  I was laying on the floor during a rehearsal today, watching some of my favorite people work a scene, and thinking...there's no where else I'd rather be. 

Tonight was filled with long and multiple trips to grocery stores trying to get ingredients to make pumpkin bars for our huge thanksgiving tomorrow.  We had class on our actual thanksgiving. 
The search was a relative success.  p.s. icing sugar=powdered/confectioners sugar.  bicarbonate soda= baking soda.  they use grams here instead of oz.  and cream cheese is called soft cheese.  yeah.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!   Luckily I had LoLo to keep things funny and musical.  We finished the night in the communal kitchen; her making a huge vat of mac n' cheese, and me with fairly decent pumpkin bars.  Though I wish my mom were here to make them properly.  No one does it like momma.

Alright.  Three weeks till end of term.  And savoring every moment.

Thinking of you x

Fake It Till You Make It.

One of the perks of going to the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland is that you automatically qualify for UK Student Equity (our actors' union.  USA equiv= AEA).  After graduation, if we stay in the UK, we can then transfer our status to full member of Equity.  Which would be wonderful...if I were staying here.  But regardless,  I've locked in my name for any future work.  No other person can join Equity under the name Stacy Lynn.  whoop whoop!

The weekend was quiet for the most part and I only wish I could have hibernated for a few days more.  I still feel that I haven't quite recovered from the whole Chekhov debacle.  But alas we began anew this monday.

9am  yoga class.  oh how I wish we had it every day.  It always feels so good to do it both inside and out.  It's one of the few types of exercise that I truly enjoy. 

As for class, we started a new project.  Next fall, we will take on tour three short plays that have been commissioned for us by the RCS.  The process starts with what we call a carousel.  In order to get to know the playwrights (and the directors)that are brought in, we are split up into groups, then we workshop a play that has already been published by each of the writers.  It's a little nerve racking considering that you are reading/acting these pieces while the writer sits and stares at you.  And the first piece we started on today was probably the most challenging when it comes to content.

The writer, Oliver (Ollie) Emanuel, gave us a piece called One Night in Iran.  A story based off of an article in the Guardian in 2006.  Personally I like the piece very much, though I don't necessarily think I'm right in the casting (it's only a two person play).  We have to say some fairly explicit stuff.  I know what your thinking,  "Stacy, why would you have a problem with that?  You swear like a sailor and you've already had a fake orgy this term.  Explicit words should be cake."  Well, I think it's because the piece itself is incredibly intimate.  These two people have loved each other for five years, have never touched, he's married, they are both Iranian, and if caught in an affair, she could be flogged or stoned to death.  And yet they meet in a hotel room one night.  It has beautiful roller coaster of emotional pops.  The awkwardness of the meeting, the sexual undertones and sometimes overtones, the love and longing, and the blunt force trama that is caused when reality hits both of them in the face.  Once again,  it's a piece that will stretch what I think I can and can't do.  And Ollie has been great in being very open with his writing and to any questions.  He knows he's good and doesn't seem threatened when someone questions his sanity.  But then again, I've only just met him.

I'm trying very hard to shake off whatever is left of the Chekhov doldrums.  I think delving so deep into Ranevskaya's insecurities gave too much attention to my own.  Now I'm just annoyed with the pity party I seem to be throwing myself.  Time to get back on track.  I am better than this.  And I'm certainly stronger than this.  So.  That's quite enough pouting, Stacy Lynn.  Stop focusing on too far forward or too far back.  It's in the Now.  And.  If the confidence isn't there....fake it till you make it.  No one will ever know the difference.  Including myself.

Learning to drink like a Scotsman (or) Eff Off, Chekhov.

Whiskey cures colds.  Well...until the morning when you notice it again.

Last night was a well deserved, if not slightly excessive night out.  I'd feel bad about it if I hadn't earned it.  The Chekhov project is finally finished and from what we hear from last year's class, it was the most difficult part of the course.  That's good to hear. 

If I've learned anything (and I've learned quite a bit from this) it's that I definitely have my own way and needs to prepare for a performance/showing.  And I don't do well when I am forced into someone else's way of preparation.  For me, I've learned that I do massive amounts of work from Day 1 so that by the day of performance, I do very little.  Because I am such an over analytical thinker, if I dwell or over rehearse on the day of, I freak myself out.  Which is sort of how I felt yesterday.

I got to the studio at 9am for some yoga, vocals, and zumba.  At ten we all met together and had to do more warm up and long exercises.  I didn't really want to, I'll admit.  I like to warm up with myself or with a small group and then do about ten minutes with full cast to get connected to each other.  But hours of "warm up" when lead by someone who doesn't understand your needs and doing full concentration exercises just makes me tired and irritable. 

We did about 2 1/2 hours of that, singing that Russian song they taught us, or doing a mass scene run through (which they didnt even get to my scenes).  By the early afternoon, I had the biggest need for a nap and a drink.

As for the actual showing,  I thought our cohort did a fantastic job.  The progress from Tuesday alone was incredible.  I, myself, was a bit disappointed in my performance and have had a small problem letting that go.  It wasn't a disaster by any means.  But it was the first time in two months that I felt I pushed and indicated.  I've made so much progress and now I felt as if I had slid right back to my own bad habits.  And regardless of circumstances, other people, the baby gurgling in the front row, there's no one to blame but myself.  So, ok.  Good.  Lesson learned.  Never get too comfortable, concentration is a skill that needs practice, and never get too big for your britches.  It's a good reminder as well that there are no guarantees of a good performance.  Sometimes you hit it, sometimes you don't.  Humans are unpredictable, and therefore so are your shows.  But it's in the training that you can maneuver whatever issues you come up against (i.e. bad mood, bad hair day, bad back, bad direction, or whatever) so that you can keep the train wreck contained to a slight fender bender.

As a result of such a day, most of us met for dinner to celebrate AL's birthday as well as to tell Chekhov to Eff Off.  We went to a really awesome Russian restaurant that had incredible food.  ...and liquor.  Then some of us went to a bar/club that also had good liquor.  And after forgetting how many good liquors I had had, and it being about three in the morning,  LY and I walked to our favorite chips place for fries and plopped ourselves at home.  I REALLY must stop walking home that way if I go out.  It doesn't matter how many sit ups or yoga poses I do,  those french fries are still bound to make my tuckus bigger.  Sigh.  Gotta get back on track.

So today I'm cleaning that disaster that is my room, reading plays, doing monologue work for the audition next wednesday, and watching an obscene amount of AB FAB and French & Saunders seasons. Time to change focus for what's next.

I'm coming home for xmas in exactly a month.  Despite missing my family,  I'm not all that USA homesick.   Maybe once or twice for hangover taco bell food.  Or country music.  Or a Broadway show.  But for the most part...yeah.  Not much is missing from my life here.   It's nice.

The 168 Hour Day.

So I was thinking today, while I was waiting for rehearsal to start, that it had been a day or two since I wrote on this blog.  Then I realized, oh. no.  It's been six days.  I've lost track of time because all the days have run together.  It feels like all one day...that just happens to be 168hours long.

Tomorrow is our showing (the tutors don't want to call it a "performance" for fear that if it sucks, they might have to answer for their part in it) of The Cherry Orchard.  It could not come soon enough.

The majority of the cohort look like either walking zombies, or grumbling children (myself included).  We've been through a lot.  And now, we've all collectively come to the conclusion that we're done. 

After last Friday's emotional massacre (see last blog for details), we all took the weekend to hibernate and decompress.  And for the most part, we were revived a bit.  But it had already taken it's toll.  You could feel the irritation or lack of interest when it came to our long exercises.  No one wants to play with the tennis ball any longer (see previous blog).  Or if they do,  it's only a tennis ball.  No longer an object of deep emotion or value.  We all still do our job.  And we do it well.  The scenes are shaping up and we are professional and technical.  But we're just tired.  Mentally, physically, spiritually. 

Speaking for myself, I bounce back and forth from wanting to scream and throw things, to passivity, to minor irritation, or inappropriate giggling.  The latter of which I prefer.  I get this method.  I feel I may actually get this character now, too.  That being said,  this method is not something that should EVER be shoved into two weeks.  This type of emotional bender that we are directed to go on is not something that should be done with 21 people all at once with only two tutors to supervise.  It's unsafe and at times cruel.  And I don't approve of blending the line between actor and role.  Because when we are on this crash course, it's harder to just "let go" of it afterwards.  So if in an exercise, someone hurts you, or loves you, or avoids you, or smothers you...you then take that with you sometimes.  I've had to force myself a couple of times to talk to people that, after an exercise, they made me shy away from them or they made me nervous.  I don't like it.

But I've done a pretty good job.  I've let go of almost all the residual emotions.  I've grown closer to a couple of people which is wonderful.  And after a little chat with one of my tutors today, I know that they are pleased with what I'm putting forth.  So.  Ok.  I'll take it.  I am feeling stronger than I have in a very long time.  I just need to stop being so damn sensitive all the time.  In the end,  it's just acting.  Not nuclear physics.  It's not WHO I am.  It's what I do.  And there's a big difference.

Unleashing the Beast

WARNING:  if you are looking for laughs and witticisms, please check back for later blogs.  This posting will not fulfill your requirements. 


Today was a tough day.  

On a whole, the entire week has been emotionally draining to the point where I send myself to bed at around 930pm.  And though yesterday was frustrating, today was...crippling.  Now don't get me wrong, in my mind, it was a huge "acting" success, but not without a few casualties.

I pretty much will skip over yesterday.  It felt mostly like a waste of a day. We had a meeting for every scene that we are in and my main one was full of arguments, tantrums, and stubborness.  Believe it or not, none of that came from me for once.

Today however...Alright, I promised honesty in this blog, but please know I'm cringing the entire time.  Today hit every insecurity I have.  Hard.  Allow me to elaborate...

The first exercise was once again walking around the room, in character, interacting silently with other characters (or you were allowed to say a phrase here and there from the script).  I woke up a bit sensitive today.  I know that now.  So already this was vibrating under the surface.

You know those days when you wake up and you just feel ugly?  As a person, physically, etc.  Well, this was one of those.  So I immediately tap into Ranevskaya's (recap: that's my character) neediness and loneliness.  A feeling I am familiar with but tend to shove as far back in my mind as humanly possible.  I file it in my mental drawer right next to "shame", "regret", and the fact I still know all the words to almost all the NSync albums. 

But anyway,  I tap into that.  I sit in my chair forever focusing on that voice of self loathing.  Everyone has this voice and some listen to it more than others.  I, generally, fight tooth and nail to block it out since the bitch is exceptionally strong in me.  But today, knowing it was a part of the character that I hadnt really explored and knowing full well it was a HUGE part of her, I let the voice out.  ughhhhhhh.   Both an excellent and horrible idea.  It's a horrible feeling, not thinking anyone wants you.  And that no one ever will.  And it's incredibly pathetic.  Regardless.  The exercise was to intensify/magnify your discoveries.  And so I did.  And it was manageable...until MAR who was playing Lopakhin came up to me while I was standing near a dark corner.  He took the side of my face in his hand, leaned in, and whispered a part of the text that was so cruel.  And it was the distain in his voice that had my knees buckling, body shaking, and then eventually I was sobbing on the floor in a ball.
There are some girls in my group who I think have the most incredible gift of overactive tear ducts.  They can cry at the drop of the hat and then bring it back.  I'm quite jealous.  I, however, am not able to do this.  I don't cry in public if I can help it.  And frankly, I hardly cry at all (though those of you that have known me these past few years know that it's been an increasing trend).  So this outburst today was something that really shook me.  I did not like it.  I did not like the loss of control.  I did not like the pain.  That being said, it's good for the character.
In said ball, I heard footsteps and then a hand on my back.  After a moment, I lifted my head and saw my Yasha.  And it was over.  I wrapped my arms around him and cried some more (ugh, whimpered more like)  and he held me, brushing the hair off my face, telling me it was alright.  When the brunt of emotion was over, he sat with me for a bit longer. I couldn't look at his face for long periods of time, but I played with the corner of his shirt which brought me more comfort than any words.  Those that know me REEEEALLY well, know that that's a nervous habit of mine, playing with corners of fabric. 
And that's where the line of character and actor blend. 
The character feels pain.  I feel pain.  But the character shows it, without limit.  I show it, and I'm embarrassed.  But either way, we as actors then use it.

We did a few more things in the morning class, but mostly it was reading outloud our scenes and focusing on where your attention is placed.  When we speak, our direct focus is sometimes on the person we are talking to and sometimes inwards while thinking of the person we are talking about.  We had to identify which and when.  My scene went very well though the echoes of the crying still stuck with me. 

At lunch I didn't feel like eating so I bought a Sprite and checked out a voice room to play the piano for a bit and try to shake it off.  Had I only known it was about to get a helluva lot worse.

The exercise was to perform etudes of our scenes.  That is, to improv a contemporary version of your scene with your partners.  My main scene is with Trofimov.  In it, he tries to give tough love by telling me the truth that I don't want to hear.  Mostly that my ex lover (who wants me back) is a loser and thief and that I'm living in a dream world.  To which my character makes it personal and fights back with ugly words and insults.  He ends up leaving. 

Our contemporary etude was basically set where my ex started coming back in my life, texting he misses me etc, and Trof (NB) is trying to convince me (Stacy)  that he's a loser and I'm stupid to get back with him. 

I take NB aside before we present and say, "Now, you do know that I'm going to light into you right?"
NB:  Yes.
me: "And you are SURE you are ok with this?"
NB:  Yes.

Deep breath.  Ok...

Our scene starts,  I check the text, explain the situation, and he begins to pick and poke, and...I rip him a new one.  I say the most hideous ugly things in the most hideous ugly way.  And don't be mistaken, we are using each other's names and the insults are very personal.  To the point that when it was all over, I looked at the rest of the cohort and most had either their mouths wide open, their eyes were bugged out, or they were completely and utterly still. 

Let me also say that NB had some mighty fine jabs himself.  His closing remark being the most lethal, "What man would ever want YOU?"   Think back to this morning's exercise and feeling.  Yeah.  Thinking it and feeling it are one thing.  But having someone throw it in your face vocally in front of 22 peers and teachers is another thing all together.

And despite what NB said of me...I'm actually more concerned with what I said to him.  He seems fine with it by the way.  I'm sure glad I warned him though in the beginning.  I think it made all the difference.  But he walked out of that room fine and dandy.  Me on the other hand...I hate knowing that that is in me.  I did my job.  I did what was asked.  And I did it well.  Too well.  It's something I truly hate about myself.  Ok no, I rarely lash out like that in real life.  But it's there.  That kind of poison in there.  And just because you feel bad afterwards, it doesn't excuse you from having the poison there in the first place.  You can't say, "Hey, I'm still a good person.  Sure I hurt someone, but I felt real bad afterwards."  You still did the hurting.  And now I just feel bruised, inside and out.

And I bet you thought that was it, huh?  Oh no.  The hits just keep on coming.

One of the very last etudes of the day was with MAR.  We did not discuss this before hand but he needed a Ranevskaya and said it needed to be me.  First, I know it's mostly because he knows me better than the other two Renny's and would be able to find better ammunition (yes, he warned me that he was going to lay into me. only this time I wouldnt be able to fight back).  But I also noticed that, the other two Renny's are softer and kinder.  They are in real life softer and kinder.  MAR needed someone he could attack and that person would be me. ...um, thank you?  But it was absolutely right.  Sometimes you need someone to hate.  I'm just saddened that it tends to be me.    What I bring to the table is a feisty, harsh, neglectful Renny.  And I'm quite heartbroken to say, that there's a LOT of me in her.  More than I'd like.  So when MAR throws those personal punches, they hit.  This time, it was an attack on my talent or lack there of. 

My two biggest hang ups are 1. whether I can really be an exceptional actor.  and 2. whether I am attractive to men.  ew.  That's so annoying as to how sad that sounds.  And please, all you out there who love me, please know that this little voice of self loathing is a tiny one.  It only took over today because I let it. 

Also, please realize that there is absolutely NO hard feelings with any of these members of the cohort.  We always hug it out afterwards and I can honestly say that I hold no animosity towards them.  And after a small pity party this evening that I'll be throwing myself, I'll sleep on it, and restart again tomorrow.  Hopefully retaining everything I learned today, and letting go of the rest.

I assure you all, despite the fact that I'm emotionally bruised and tired beyond belief...I've never been happier.  Man, actors are messed up.  :)

The Power of the Tennis Ball, and a Make-Believe Funeral.

I got my heart broken today.  By JS and a tennis ball.  ...but more on that later.

These past two days, we have fully immersed ourselves in Chekhov.  Mostly it has been exercises and Etudes (improvisational parallels to our character's relationships with others).  I'd say I've spent about 40% of those hours incredibly frustrated with the teaching.  But the exercises themselves have revolutionized (is that a word?) my grasp on the character, Ranevskaya.

We did the line exercise again (refresher course for those of you who've forgotten, it is the one where you're facing your partner standing about 20ft apart.  The goal is to meet in the middle but you only move when you feel the need and when you get it off of your partner.)  This time, the exercise was character specific.  You are paired up with another character that you deal with in the play.  Once you meet in the middle, the guy asks for your hand, you decide to give it to him, he kisses it, you blush and look away, he tips your chin up so you look at him, you place your other hand on either cheek or chest, and then he has the option to kiss you on forehead, cheek, or lips--depending on your relationship in the play.  I was matched twice: once with Trofimov, my dead son's tutor, and the second time with Gayev, my brother.
Trofimov was interesting in that I found that it was IMPERATIVE that he come to me.  I only felt the need to take a step to him when he stepped backwards from me.  And then it was a feeling of panic, "don't leave me!"
With Gayev,  I would take steps with him at the same time, feeling like "hey we are in this together."  But also, he constantly had this look of disappointment on his face and it crushed me to think he looked down on me when I already looked so down on myself.  It was only when his face softened that I felt I could move with him.

We played the tennis ball game as well, both today and yesterday.  Now, if I haven't explained this one before, it basically is this:  you walk around the room in character, a tennis ball is given to one of the characters, and you pass it to another character that you feel the need to give it to.  The tennis ball is a physical manifestation of your emotional objective...in short,  the tennis ball is your heart.  When you walk around the room, you are literally giving your heart away and either watching it be accepted or rejected.  You are also watching as others give-what you gave-to someone else.  As Ranevskaya I found that when I had the ball, I made sure every man saw that I had it.  And what's more, I made sure they followed me awhile before I even came remotely close to passing it off to someone else.  The attention and pursuit of me gave me importance and validation.  When I finally did give it away, I found I often gave it to JS (character: Yasha).  And he often gave it to me.  This is a character who is my footman, we have very few actual conversations in the play, but a connection was felt by both of us and it came from that little ball.  After mulling it over, I realized that JS's Yasha was a private protector and advisor for me, not only another attractive man (though he is that, too).  I would check to make sure I always knew where he was.  And I could count on him to give me his tennis ball.  What's more, I could give him mine (something I never really felt comfortable doing with anyone else) because I knew I could count on him giving it back when and if I needed it.  Two characters who hardly interact, and he's the strongest bond I feel I have in the play.

That being said, today we did the same exercise.  And I found a new side to Ranevskaya that I didn't see before.  The game began as before, Yasha passed the ball to me a couple times.  He let me know with his eyes who I should and should not give it to.  He smiled at me and I felt everything was ok.  But then, at one point,  I had passed him the ball, he took it, and immediately gave it to a different Ranevskaya (there are three of us playing the part).  And my body shut down.  How could he do that?  Because to me, that wasn't another Me.  That was another woman.  This man who I trusted with my heart and my love...he just gave it away.  Without a thought.  I stood where I was.  I watched that bitch take MY BALL from MY YASHA.  I watched her jump for joy, to fawn over him in thanks, and I watched as his face smiled MY SMILE at her.  And I wanted to sob.  I stopped breathing.  I felt broken.  I looked around the room.  I had spent the past twenty minutes flirting with men and even women to get the ball, to gather people's hearts and the one heart I was so sure of betrayed me.  And I stood there for what seemed like fifteen minutes (but I couldnt even tell you, I was so distraught) and thinking, "Oh my God.  No one loves me.  I could stand here forever and no one looks at me.  I don't have the ball, I don't have anyone's heart, so no one wants me.  Why doesn't anyone want me?"  Which is EXACTLY what the character would do, in my opinion. 
Then...my reaction came.  A different Yasha (KT) finally came over and gave me his tennis ball.  I desperately grabbed for it, even though he gently handed it over.  I was so unbelievably grateful and remember thinking, "I'll never forget this.  Thank you."  And then I began walking briskly about the room.  "Look at me you assholes.  I have someone's heart."  And I could feel my JS Yasha following.  First with his eyes, then his body.  I began to avoid him.  I wouldn't even look at him.  He pushed his way through people, trying to put himself in my eyeline.  And I kept thinking, "you broke my heart. Let's see how YOU like it."  What's funny is, the entire time, I knew he loved me.  I knew I would hurt him.  But I was still so hurt myself that I needed to lash out.  I needed to say, "That'll teach you to choose someone over me."  My heart was bleeding and he didn't effing notice, well, we'll see about that.
I walked over to the character that I cared the absolute least about.  One that I'd never even give a second thought to.  And I held out the ball to her,  turned my head to JS Yasha, looked him straight in the eyes, jutted out my chin, and without taking my eyes off him, I dropped the ball into the girl's hands. 
I watched his face as it went from confusion to pain, such a gut wrenching pain, and then to pure anger.  And I felt two things at the same time,  1. I'm so sorry.  Please still love me.  and 2. Fuck. You.

And I walked off without another glance.

Let me all remind you...this was all over a TENNIS BALL.  But if you truly invest yourself in what it represents, if you get lost in the exercise, you discover these amazing possibilities that would never have come to you if you had just read the play outloud betwixt you, and were given blocking (For those of you friends that are not theatre friendly, blocking= where to stand and move during the play.)

The funny thing is, we were finally assigned our scenes (of which I am in two), and I am not with JS Yasha AT ALL.  Go figure.  But it was truly wonderful to go through all of that.

On to the funeral.  Yeah.  How do I explain this one...

So in the play I have a son that dies by drowning.  It doesn't explain how or why but it is implied that it is possibly by neglect.  This is the catalyst that begins my spiral of loss of who I am and any good that is in me.  
The exercise was to create a contemporary improvised scene that can mirror the relationships you have between characters under given circumstances.  i.e.  The people who play my neighbors in the play would still be my neigbors but now we are in an apartment in present day.  My brother would still be my brother.  My step daughter is now a roommate who doesn't pay rent, etc.  It was suggested that we set up a scene where instead of my son's wake (since I have no children), it would be my nephew's.  The minute the professor suggested it, my stomach dropped, my fingers tingled, and the biggest pressure came down on my chest.  You've got to be effing kidding me.  But, when you think of it, how else are you to ever understand the death of a child, especially one that means anything to you. 
So, the scenario being given, we are given no other direction, no other lines, no beginning or end.  It's just six of us, sitting in silence at a dining room table, knowing we just came from a funeral of a little boy. 
And it was extraordinary to experience.  To keep it clinical, it built a back story to other characters that I could then transfer into the actual scenes when dealing with these people.  My brother, so loving and wanting so badly to comfort, and I don't let him.  I really hurt my Gayev, but when he touched me to rub my arms or cry on my shoulder, I had to shrug him off.  Because if he kept touching me, I would break.  And I didn't know if I would ever stop breaking.  There were very few words ever spoken.  There was the inappropriate "it was a lovely service"  to which I begged someone to change the subject.  There was the random response of someone grasping for ANY topic "Did anyone get tickets to this year's xmas pantomime show?"  To which I couldn't stop laughing and he with me.  It was so honest.  Someone bringing up something so random and light, begging for a lightness to enter the room.  But as we looked at each other laughing, tears started to stream down his face, and the sob lodged in my throat began to climb out.  My body began to shake.  It was so real.  In the end, I felt that the six of us had gone through something together.  And I knew that that would also translate in our later scenes.

...Go figure.  I only have a scene with ONE of the six people as well.  Sigh.  But once again, it was an experience that I wouldn't have passed over for anything.  I am, however, completely spent.  I feel like I need a good long cry.  I think it may also be related to the mondo migraine that is still poking its head through.  I can't seem to shake it.  Although I've been very lucky in that I haven't had one like this in almost a year.  I blame the fluorescent lights and concentration. 

This has been such a strange time for me.  On the one hand, I've never felt like an actor.  At least one that anyone would pay to work.  Before I get up to do these exercises, I'm always like, "aghhhhh, oh god I hope I can do this."  But lately, right after I say that to myself, I seem to be able to click over into somewhere inside me that opens up, and just does the work.  It's probably being in a place where I feel safe to go for it.  But either way, I'm grateful things are turning out and hope I can keep up the calibur that these people demand and deserve.

On personal life, last night I went to SG's apartment with a few other cohort members and I learned how to play Dungeons and Dragons.  I had NO idea what it was all about, only the silly things they say in high school when all the really smart kids would play it on the weekends.  But I have to say, it's fascinating.  And totally an acting exercise.  It is a game of imagination and improv.  Like one of those choose your own adventure books but ten times more intricate. 

As for tonight, I was supposed to go see a production of Medea, but my head just can't take it.  But I do have tickets to "Dracula" on Friday as well as "Into The Woods" on Dec 1st.  So I'm still managing to get out and get cultured. 

I think that's good enough for today.  Thinking of you.  And remember,  guard your tennis balls.

The Globe, The Faerie Glen, and a Cherry Orchard.

So I reeeeeeeeeeeeeally don't feel like writing.  But I know if I put it off, it will never get done.  Or I'll forget what I have done.  And that, my friends, is simply unacceptable.  So.  Let's see how far I get.

Saturday was not only Guy Fawke's Day/Bonfire (remember remember the 5th of november) but it was also our Globe workshop.  That's right.  Class on a Saturday.  But oh so good.  Yolanda (yoli) was our tutor and she has been both actor and director for the Globe for almost ten years.  She has this incredible charisma and humor.  But also, she is so gifted in making Shakespeare fun.  Which, as some of you may not know, it totally is!

So from 10-4pm we did theatre exercises and games for both vocal and physical technique.  She explained the limitations we would have being on the Globe stage in January.  The fact that it is a theatre with no single focal point.  You have an audience on all sides and on all levels.  You will always have your back to some of them at all times.  So, how do you make them feel included even when they are not looking at your face?  How do you make the nosebleed section happy with your performance when they are too far away to see your facial expressions?  How do you show it in your body and with the words you speak?  You see, many people who read shakespeare think  "GOD!  Why does he babble on so much about describing what the character is doing all the time?  We can SEE him doing it!"  But actually, in that space and at that time...you didn't necessarily see the actor do anything.  There are large pillars that obstruct the view at times and depending on where you are seated, you may miss out on some important bits and pieces.  So we concentrated on that, as well as scansion and the rhythm of the speech.  For some people, dissecting and finding the rhythm of the speech is mind numbing.  But for me, it totally gets me going.  Choosing which words to pop and which to stretch.  Milking the sounds and pitching the voice.  It's like hot chocolate syrup.  Yummmmmmmmmmmy!

After that, the cohort decided to go watch the fireworks and then end up at AK's apartment for drinks.  I was going to go to the fireworks but ended up skyping with mi padre instead.  It was nice to see his face.  And it turns out that I didn't miss the fireworks.  I heard them, opened up my bedroom curtains...and got a free show.  Perrrrrfect.  I did end up going to AK's after.  Reassured myself that I'd go for a couple of drinks and that was it.  ...four hours later I was at a bar/club.  Yeah. 

Sunday I was up, after five hours of sleep and a slight hangover, at 730am.  The plan for the day was to get the heck out of Glasgow.  With two of my cohort MM and RM, we hopped a train to Loch Lomond.  (See photos from above).  The entire village was swamped in mist and fog for the whole day making it look magical.  We hiked around the Loch, saw the castle and gardens, went off the beaten path to the faery glen and picked our way through a stream and fallen leaves.  We skipped stones on the Loch and trudged our way through mud and trees.  I saw two of the largest swans I've ever seen in my life and everyone we passed had a puppy of some sort with them.  Made me wish I had a dog.

We ended up at a B&B for lunch and to sit by the fireplace.  And I caved in and had an Apple and pear crumble with vanilla icecream and custard.  OH. SO. GOOD.  Then jumped back on the train to find our way back to Glasgow.  I spent the rest of the evening (about five hours) going through the Cherry Orchard text to do character analysis on my role for class today.  It ended up being about 17 pages long.

Today began with a 930am yoga class.  The teacher was absolutely lovely.  She was the exact kind of peaceful woman you'd want if you had to have someone to tell you to bend yourself into a pretzel that early in the morning.  I may even look into taking her classes outside of school.

As for class...well, it was a tad frustrating.  Once again we learn a different approach to acting.  This one (as well as the approach we used for the ensemble project) is not my cuppa tea.  It will be fine.  But I find the two tutors talk in circles, argue with each other a lot, and use 1500 words when they could say what they need to say in 10.  Patience may be a virtue upon which to build character, but the Lord apparently thought I had enough character and skipped that virtue on me.  So I have a hard time ciphering through the BS to get to the point.  The good thing is though, that when you get to the point, it's bloody brilliant.  But I walk away from 6-8 hours of that, completely mentally exhausted. 

The part itself is going to be more challenging than I anticipated.  Don't get me wrong, I love a challenge.  And I am excited at the prospect of really testing my abilities.  But she puzzles me.  I don't need to like who I play.  I don't need to respect them.  But I DO need to understand them.  Parts of her make me incredibly uncomfortable because they expose a lot of my insecurities.  She's the most insecure woman, she's constantly needing male attention, she's cowardly in that she'd rather be with a lover than have self respect, as opposed to being alone and not be ashamed of herself.  This woman has no pride.  I am all pride.  Much to my detriment at times.  I would rather be alone for the rest of my life, then settle for something that makes me feel cheap.  She is the opposite. 

She also looks to other people to feel valued.  Those types of people need love from everyone, and yet none of it will ever be enough because she doesn't love herself. 

She is incredibly charming and magnetic.  She compels people to take care of her.  Even her own daughters.  She also is used to male attention and admiration.  And needs it desperately.  ...we are so different.

Yes, this is why we call it acting.  We don't do this in order to play ourselves.  Or at least I don't.  But I'm not really quite sure how to become this.  Or where I'm going to get the balls to show that much weakness.  Because the more I DO understand her, the more vulnerable I feel.  Oof.  Stay tuned. 

Fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

The Dangers of Using Heartbreak

Hello friends. 

So I haven't written much this week because, well, things haven't been all that interesting.

Tuesday I was in school for a total of one hour.  We had tutorials which is basically the equivalent of the American Parent-teacher conference but without the parents.  Normally when you have these meetings in America, it means you are in trouble.  But here, it is genuinely to check on your progress and to see how you are adjusting to life here.

My first meeting was with Anna Birch, the research faculty member who is to guide us on our research paper.  It lasted five minutes.  She asked what my ideas were and how I'd go about it, and me being the person I am had a full couple of pages written.  She let me get through about a page of it before she said it would be fine and sent me on my merry way. 

The meeting with the dept head Mark Saunders was a little more useful.  I gave feedback on how the Ensemble project went for me, said I was very comfortable here and well challenged, and he gave me feedback by saying that I'm doing very well.  He seemed very happy with my progress.  It was nice to hear that considering that most of the time I've been flying by the seat of my pants, crossing my fingers that I'm doing something right. 

Wednesday was a two hour lecture by a Scottish theatre critic.  Interesting, though completely biased.  And that was followed by a programme meeting which basically outlined the next few weeks.  I am beginning to feel the crunch of finding a one to two week placement with some sort of theatre/film company.  The leads I've had have fallen through and now I'm at a loss. But there's time yet.

Thursday was the beginning of the Chekhov study of The Cherry Orchard.  We were put in a heated carpeted fluorescent lit room for 7 hours and read the play aloud twice.  zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.  Now, I have a bit of trouble with chekhov sometimes, and especially with this play.  I've read most if not all his stuff and have seen Alan Cumming and Diane Wiest in "The Seagull"  which was brilliant.  But The Cherry Orchard is one that is very tough for me to connect to.  And I find in our group analysis that I don't necessarily agree with what other's are finding.  But we got through that mind numbing day and my impending migraine that I was getting started to die down to only a simmer. 

And here is where the title of this blog comes in.  There are many kinds of methods to acting.  I basically take pieces of all those methods that work for me and then bunch them all together.  One of them is a thing called substitution.  Now this can be unhealthy at times but also can be great when in need of sense memory.  You see, Friday (today) was the day that we had to perform/audition for parts in The Cherry Orchard.  We had to prepare a monologue from a contemporary play and perform it for the two directors and the class.  I chose one of my audition pieces that has resonated very well for me over the past few years from Neil Simon's "Chapter Two", a play I truly love.
However, I find I can only get the best performance out of me when I recall a past (ok, ok, THE past heartbreak) of my life.  It involves recalling the happiness that you had with that person, and then feeling the loss of it all over again.  This may not work for most relationships, and it certainly wouldn't work with some of the ones I've had that have ended,  but this specific one has always haunted me, and I knew it would work.
So Thursday night, I rehearse in my bedroom, I do the work, I do the research, and I do it well.  And today I performed it and I think it went very well.  It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was honest.  Unfortunately though it has drudged up things that I'd much prefer to keep buried.  Scabs that I thought were healed have now been picked off.  And it has left me a bit raw.  And incredibly annoyed with myself for still being affected.
What IS the moral you ask?  What is the point to this story?  I suppose it partly explains why acting is so hard.  It makes you look at all your sore spots and fragilities, and then it makes you use them.  It also begs to ask the question, where is the line that you should draw between healthy use of memory and when you should just try to pretend.  Sometimes actors use too much of "what was", and it messes with them mentally.  Also, sometimes actors use inappropriate memories that hinder rather than progress your work.  You have to be very careful that you choose a memory that truly fits your scene as well as not eff you up for weeks.
I think though that there is a separation.  I didn't do my monologue today, pretending that the guy I was talking to was my ex.  That was only done last night in my room.  But I could recall the feeling and desperation that I felt towards said past and then use it towards this new guy.  Unfortunately Stanislavsky would still call this representational acting, but I don't care today.  Because frankly it got the job done.  And if I'm feeling the echoes now of "what was", I can only imagine the pitfalls if I had used "what is". 
Regardless,  at the end of the audition I was cast as Renevskaya, the matriarch, and am very pleased with the challenge of the role.  And these echoes will fade in a few days.  After all, time heals all wounds.  ...or is it Time wounds all heels?  Either way.  I'm taking tonight off for myself. 

We have class tomorrow (Saturday).  It is a six hour workshop with the people from the Globe theatre.  And then it's Guy Fawke's Day so hopefully we'll see some good fireworks in the evening.  Remember, remember the 5th of November.  :)  Should be good.

Missing you.