Show Biz Lesson #172: NOT FOR FREE.

I've calmed down since my last posting.  I'm sure you all are relieved that I won't be slitting any throats any time soon.  I admit I almost blew a gasket Wednesday afternoon before opening when the tech crew continued to amaze us with their fumbling, but it soon passed with the help of the even tempered cast, the ever motivated director, and a Levi hug.  It is a huge gift from God that this cast is made up of only one true hot head (me) and the rest are all calm and collected when it comes to keeping their sh*t together.  Sigh.  I really have to start cussing less.  It's highly unattractive.

So we opened on Wednesday night.  Technically, that means there are no more rehearsals or classes for the remainder of the programme.  It's a bit anticlimatic if you ask me.  I don't know.  Maybe it just means I'm really ready to move on.  I haven't felt like a student for a while now, so I didn't really feel anything about it.  Or maybe it's just that we've been rehearsing this show for so long that there wasn't any room for sentimentality.  I didn't really even get nervous.

And after all the worries and insecurities that we've had about the thing, it actually went extremely well.  Better than I think any of us realized.  Which, thank God.  I hadn't realized how badly I needed it to go well.  Because, to be honest, I've often felt like a dumbass flopping around on a metal table with my hands bound, wrapped in saran wrap, a ton of make-up, dripping wet, getting salt poured on me, and talking to myself.  I think most people would.  But somehow we've been able to play the truth of it and convince people (I hope).  And it's becoming fun again.  I will say that I've been having a bit of difficulty with the costume (photos will arise eventually but we are keeping it underwraps for now because it ruins the "reveal" for anyone who is actually coming to the show.  but never fear, I'll post one or two eventually).  The costume snafu is probably more in my head, or something that only a few cast members notice because they are so close to me, but you see...cling film doesnt breath.  It gets hot.  And when you spray it down with water, it gets slippery.  Now, add to that the fact that i'm dragging myself across the floor as well as back and forth on the kitchen table...well...things sort of slide off.  So I start the show with a tightly cling filmed chest.  I end it...not so tightly cling filmed.  Actually, by the end, on both runs of the show, the cling film has ended up around my waste.  Never fear friends, I do still wear a shimmery leotard catsuit underneath...but it's stretchy, too.  And gets wet.  And well,  the Lord, when bequeathing me with gifts, gave an abundance in the upper region.  Which means that said catsuit does not like to disobey the law of gravity.  So I spend a good amount of time in the show pretending to struggle, only to mask that I had to yank up the catsuit to avoid making this a whole different kind of show.  Listen, I'm all about the art and beauty of the body, but I ain' gettin' paid for this.  Show Business Lesson #172, NOT FOR FREE.

Other than that, we've had two solid shows.  I saw the other two pieces that our cohort put on and they are truly solid shows as well.  So all in all I'm very proud of us. 

Now I have a few days off to pack up my life and we'll be off to London to tour for next week.  I'm excited to see that city one last time.  I'm a big fan.  And it will be good to get out of Glasgow a bit. 

And I'm very excited for a relatively quiet weekend.  I've been feeling a bit overly emotional lately.  It's made being around people a bit difficult.  I want so badly to hibernate.  To read books, write nonsense, watch television, and have ultimate quiet. It's one thing that I'm really looking forward to back in Seattle.  To take a week or so to turn off my brain, and have the easy things be easy.  Right now it feels like I'm anxious and tired at the same time.  Both stressed and bored.  What's more, my brain is functioning at half capacity.  Like treading through mud.  And I hate that.  I can't even be fussed to make this blog entry entertaining, so I apologize for the vanilla when you should be getting chocolate fudge brownie.  I'll do better next time. 

And I no doubt will have much more to say since I have a whole "to do" list for London.  This includes seeing Richard III at the Globe starring THE Mark Rylance.  You may send messages of jealousy my way.  I am one lucky girl. 

So, friends, have a beautiful weekend.  Now, excuse me,  I gotta shower off all this make-up, glitter, and salt...

Thinking of you  x

Acting vs Lying

Some people believe that Acting IS Lying. In my view this is incorrect. I'm an awful liar. Abismal, really. Which is why I rarely do it. I find telling the truth is another way to show respect for someone. They are worth that, whether it brings pleasure or pain. This has been my view more and more so as I delve into both my professional and personal relationships. Unfortunately, it will make my road- to my version of success- much more bumpy and much much longer, and it makes my personal relationships...delicate. I forget sometimes that truth is not always what people want or need to hear. And some truths (as I have said previously) don't need to be said.

Acting, to me, is living truthfully in an imaginary circumstance. (thank you, Sanford Meisner)

Lying, is telling falsehoods in real life.

One is entertaining and at times inspiring.

The other is hurtful and weak. And often selfish. We lie because we are ashamed, because we wish to be liked, because we don't want to be in trouble, or because we want something from someone and will tell them anything they want to hear to get it.

The last one is the one that is staring me in the face presently.

In four and a half weeks time I will finish my Masters programme. I will turn in three term papers that are summative statements of what the last term brought to my life. It is SUPPOSED to be a personal reflective statement that tells of what you learned and how you wish to apply said lessons to your future career. To me, this means I should be honest about good and bad things.

I have recently discovered that what the school REALLY wants me to write is how I was flawed and how the school brought solutions that blew my mind and revolutionized my methods and that I am better because of them. ...So basically, lie through my pearly whites.

This term has been a learning experience, sure. In what NOT to do as an established educational institution. Whatever I learned this term I taught myself, or my director enlightened me, or my cast. It was not bestowed upon me by any tutors, head of departments, technical staff, or administration. In fact, these very people, these "supervisors" were the very beings that made my life (and the entire cohort's) more difficult. The list would be endless when it comes to their inefficiency, neglect, ineptitude, and down right uselessness. And I am supposed to thank them? I think not, sir.

But tell me. Would you lie to get good grades? I will no doubt pass the module by completing the papers. People have done much worse than tell the truth and they still are flying through this course. Do not get me wrong, there are individuals here who have worked their hind-ends off, carrying more than their share of work to make up for the failures of those that are supposed to take care of us. But it seems to go unnoticed.

And I'd like to take this opportunity to also thank every techie I've worked with or who had been on my crew in the past. Until now I thought I'd appreciated you. I was wrong. After this tech week, you are gods. And the next time I see you I'm going to show you an embarrassing amount of affection because had you been here you would have wept for us, removed the excess nonsense that we call our crew, and put up the damn show in 30 minutes including smoke breaks. (That may be a slight exaggeration but you get the idea).

Anyway. Back to the problem at hand. Do I try to convince myself that these papers are an "Acting Exercise" and make them the greatest pieces of fiction you've never seen? Or do I do what I always do and right the paper as it was meant to be written, respectfully but the God's honest truth? Do I go for the grades and the pat on the head while I attempt to swallow my integrity without choking?  Do I just shut the hell up, give them what they want, compromise because really it isn't that big of a deal? 

me1: It's the principle of the thing...

me2: Yeah, but you know where that gets you?

me1: No.

me2: It gets you nowhere. It gets you two steps behind everyone else. But hey you still got your principles.

me1: Wouldn't it be worse to get where you wanna get, then look in the mirror and not like what you see?

me2: You know how to avoid that?

me1: No, what?

me2: Don't own a mirror.

Seriously though. How much does it really matter? Sure voicing my opinion may help future masters students, but that's assuming they actually hear anything I say. Because really, more times then not, if I've ever mentioned a hint of displeasure, it would then be implied that the problem was of my own making or perhaps I didn't understand something. Listen here mate, I may talk funny but we speak the same language.

So tis a dilemma. And I'll probably just try to find a happy medium between both. As I've said before, no one will give two shits to Sunday about the papers I wrote in college. This is a profession of results and the immediacy of what you can give them. And I got a lot to give. But whatever talent I may have is severely intertwined with whatever honesty I have. I've learned (hey! I DID learn something from them!) that I can't have one without the other. I'm just no good otherwise. It's who I am.

Before any of you worry whether or not any of said supervisors will read any of this, let me remind you that they wouldn't be bothered to look. That aside, I've no qualms in what I've written. Why? Because it's the truth.

And Then I Had Waffles...

I made the mistake of trying to be responsible and search online for jobs back in the States. I thought, hey I'll get a head start. I'll put feelers out. I'll be aggressive and proactive.
So what did I do?  I began looking on playbill.com and the theatre posting website in WA State. Just to cover both my bases. And you know what it did...? It freaked me the fuck out!
Seriously! What the hell am I thinking? All the jobs are Equity that I want to go to but they won't even see me because I'm not Union. Then there's the so-so jobs that don't pay enough for you to live on.
It isn't like I forgot about this conundrum that always existed but what I did forget about is the unbelievable frustration you feel when you recognize that concrete wall five inches from your face.
Hello again, wall. Remember me? It's Stacy. I'll be repeatedly smacking my cranium against your cold lifeless surface in the hope that someday I'll break through you and get to the other side where my desired standard of living resides. I would appreciate it if you'd let me do that by the time I'm fifty. Please and thank you.

It worries me how quickly I think, ugh look at all those posts for tech work. you're good at tech work. people were throwing tech work at you. You should do that.  You could get tech work on a cruise line, work for them for 6months and pay off a third of your loans. 6 months. 
...BUT you ain' no spring chicken no mo'. Do you really want to prolong the career that you've always wanted? Haven't you done that long enough? But then again, you could spend the next ten years paying back those loans while you work at starbucks (if they'll even have you. p.s. Dude, cut a girl a break, Mr. Bucks of the Star, and give me a damn job for the holiday season) doing half ass theatre work because that's the only thing you can handle with your work schedule that you need since you are paying your loan payments. gah!

Then there are jobs in administration for theatre. I technically qualify. I have a business degree. I have training in contemporary, classical, and musical theatre acting as well as stage and house managing. I could work for unions or theatre companies and just "see" the seasons shows...
but not enjoy them because everytime I watch them I'll be thinking, ah yes, look at all those people on the stage doing what I am not.  What a load of bullschnikety. And, yes.  I just made that word up.

So, boys and girls, what does that teach us? 
That being proactive causes tantrums and freak outs and should be avoided at all costs. 

Will I do any of the above?  Who knows. honestly? Probably not.
I did not come to grad school to just teach. or just tech. or just administrate. or even just to act. I came to grad school so I could find the confidence to do it all. And I know I can. Now, whether or not the Good Luck Fairy is going to bring me the opportunities I need for greatness is invariably up to her fickle twinkly ass. But hey, I'm going to give her every reason to come my way.

I have a hard time with the idea that this is as good as it gets. That I may have peaked somewhere along the line. I can't imagine that this is as big as it gets for me. Because frankly, it's just not damn good enough. I'm happy, I'm healthy, and I'm grateful. No ifs, ands, or buts. ...however... there's got to be something more out there for me. So...what now? What cliche am I going to get today?
"If you work hard enough, you'll get what you deserve"
-well, anyone who's lived in nyc will know that's not exactly true. in fact, it's fiction on the "fairness of life" scale.
"If you pray, it will come"
-well, I'll be doing that anyway.  But no one gets what they want sittin' on their biblical laurels.
"If you kiss ass, it will get you somewhere"
-...we all know how good I am at that.
"What will be, will be" 
-That's like when people tell you that relationships "come your way when you're not looking."  Once again,  bullschnikety.  Really, it's a saying for people who are passive and want to use the cosmos as a reason for their lack of motivation.
"Voice what you want. Get what you want"
-Now you're talking.
"Be honest, kind, constructive"
-Alrighty.  Can do.
"It'll be alright in the end. If it isn't alright, it isn't the end."
-keep on truckin. got it.
"Rejection in your career does not devalue your self worth."
-sho' nuff.
And finally, and my personal favorite...
"And then I had waffles."

In your career, before and after an audition or performance, you should always think "and then I had waffles." There was someone in my past (I cant even remember who anymore, it's been so long) that once told me that you should always have something outside of your audition/performing life that is worth looking forward to. Your audition should never be the end all be all. Your rejection should never make you feel like you should quit. It's just one bad person/audition/day. but if you look forward to that one extra thing; be it a person, a movie, or in my case...waffles, then the desperation and ache is numbed. Or at least dimmer in comparison.  When someone asks how your day was, it should never be an hour tirade on how horrible a casting agent was or how you couldn't even be seen or how you'll never make it because you are too little or too much of something. Instead, it should be a minute or so of a tirade followed by, "and then I had waffles." And those waffles, are the most important part of that day.
People who are outside the business often wonder how we deal with all the "rejection" all the time. Well, that's how I deal with mine. When I stare at a computer screen at 12:10am, eyes bleeding from all the jobs that I don't qualify for or it's like jumping through hoops for a single penny, I remind myself of what my waffles were.

Today was LM's birthday. KS, MAR, and I put together a scavenger hunt that spanned across Glasgow and eventually ended in a train ride to Loch Lomond for dinner. It was a good day. A beautiful yet muggy, exhausting and fun, kind and genuine day with good friends.    It was like a massive belgium waffle with strawberries and whip cream on top.
Also this weekend, I moved half my belongings to LY's new apartment who is letting me stay with her for September so I can cut rent costs.  Another chocolate drizzled waffle.
Also, I watched a marathon of Criminal Minds episodes and 1990's saturday cartoons on youtube which made me happy as I sipped my crappy instant coffee and puttered around my room on a Sunday morning.  Big, peanut butter and syrup waffle.

So when I get wound up about the future, or the fact that it is tech week and I'll soon be wrapping myself in cling film and popping vibrant blue colored contacts in while dousing myself with water as I slither on stage, I'll be thinking...

and then I had waffles. and they were good.

"Too Much Tail is Never a Bad Thing"

One thing I love about rehearsals is that when we do and say things in our every day sessions, we sometimes take a moment and realise that if they were taken out of context and placed in the real world, they would be beyond strange, which is where the title of this post comes from.

In truth, Keith was talking about my Mermaid costume and the fact that they are adding a six to eight inch train for the tail.  I had my semi fitting today.  Semi being because it is only half put together.  And to this moment, I never saw myself in the mirror.  But the director and designers are pleased.  It's comfortable enough.  As comfortable as a glittery silver cat suit and sheer mermaid style skirt with cling film wrapped around my top can be.  It's a bit, how did the director put it?  ...Audacious.  and Avant Garde.  I don't know about all that, but I think it will be what it needs to be.  We, however, have not yet figured out how it will work when it is sopping wet and being dragged across the floor.  But hey.  Baby steps.

Rehearsals have been up and down both in productivity and progress.  Many of us have reached the limit of caring and are having a hard time staying motivated and inspired.  But I am lucky in the group of people I have in the rehearsal room.  Our space is always one of respect and support.  And humor.  From what I hear, other groups are not as fortunate.  While we may not be exceedingly impressed with our script, we at least have a healthy process.  After our renaissance project, I will never take that for granted.  It hurts my heart to know that some of my good friends are struggling.  That they dread every moment of the week.  I am hopeful, after today, that it will be better.  Their script is really beautiful and they have such a strong group that I am sure they will pull it together into something they can be proud of.  But there is nothing worse than going to work each day with a weight and worry from the moment you wake up to the moment you eventually fall asleep.  It takes the joy out of the job and the stress is crushing.  You can feel it in their silences or in the bite of their words.  It would be awful to end your MA with counting down the days as opposed to savoring what time is left.  We all want to end on a good note, with very little regret.  I hate feeling helpless, not being able to support them.  So I'll continue to cross my fingers and toes for a quick and healthy turn around.

So back to rehearsals.  There was a particular etude (exercise) that worked really well for me.  The good thing about director PB is that I can ask to try anything and he makes it happen.  I asked this time to do a bit of a contemporary movement thing (I know.  Shocking for a "thinker" like me) where each of the other characters would take turns in the center of the space with me.  Each one would physically manifest their overall emotional state for the play.  And from that, since the Mermaid feeds off of others' emotions, we would find out how the mermaid physically manifests the relationship between her and the emotion given.  I have to say, my group is awesome.  I asked them to become an emotion.  Doesn't get more high falutin' than that.  And they went with it and committed.  I'm not sure if it was overly useful for them, but for me, it was exactly what I needed.  And afterwards I felt connected on a deeper level with most of the characters.  SM and I connected on a great level of Anger.  AL gave such a heavy handed version of Grief.  LM...well, the lust and obsession was...sensual, to say the least.  AK and I had a bit of an aggressive predatory stalking sort of thing.  KT was a lightfooted and push and pull sort of Love.  And NB gave a discovery and confusion quality.  At times I would be wrapped around one person, or pushing and shoving another.  Or just staring at SM, tensing my whole body like hers and vibrating with animosity.  It was exhausting but for once, we over-thinkers weren't allowed to overthink.  By taking away our words and forcing our bodies into the exercise, we (or at least I) made some headway.  After each character took their turn, PB sent multiple people into the space to see what would happen when everyone's emotions pulled at me.  I think it had the right effect.  Complete and utter overload.  Then complete and utter shut down.  Which is what happens in the play.  Huzzah for usefulness.

Non rehearsal related.  This past weekend I went to the World bagpiping championship that was being held down the road from my flat.  It was surprisingly a beautiful day out and I was very much in need of some air.  Everything seems heavier these days; my legs, my worries, my eyelids, my annoyances.  Everything seems to be taking an extra effort.  So the day outside, with thousands (and I mean thousands) of bagpipes ringing in my ears was quite beneficial.  That may sound bizarre but I'm telling you, if you got a bagpipe band playing right next to you, it is VERY hard to get wrapped up in your own bullshit thoughts.  I really love the scottish traditions.  They had highland dancing and caber tossing (the women and men participating were beasts!), and fair food stands, and of course lots of beer.  Sigh.  Sometimes I hear that whisper in my head while I feel this comfort and happiness settle over me that says, "I don't want to leave."  I've done well up to this point not getting overly attached because I always knew that staying in the UK was not an option.  But that whisper is becoming more frequent and much louder.  Annoying bugger.
On Sunday I thought I'd get some work done on the library books I checked out.  That lasted a whole of two minutes when MAR and AndL joined me at the cafe.  I love them.  Even when I'm bitchy they make me laugh.  And what's more, they were kind enough to treat me to a movie.  Money has been tight lately and I am choosing to spend what's left on actually seeing places as opposed to films.  But I've missed going to the movies.  It's my favorite thing to do.  So we went to see Disney's "Brave."  Nothing like seein' a disney film with two tenderhearted guys.  I totally heard them sniffling at the end.  Too cute.  It was fascinating to be in Scotland while watching a film about Scottish people. Hearing the scottish people in the audience laugh and enjoy with pride that their culture is being animated on the big screen.  "I don't want to leave.  This is my home."   Shh.  That's quite enough, you.

Yesterday was my last day at the Edinburgh Fringe.  Now, we are supposed to go next Monday as well.  But honestly, with the shows they lined up for us, it's a waste of time and money.  I have been underwhelmed with much of what we've been told to see and frankly I can't afford to buy extra shows myself.  Just getting to Edinburgh alone is adding up.  There are other things I'd rather do. 
Anyway, yesterday, we got up at the ass crack of dawn to go see a show that started at 9am.  Luckily they supplied coffee and rolls or I wouldnae made it.  The show was more of a reading. It was good.  Not great.  But entertaining.  Would have been more entertaining at noon, but you know, whatever.  The next show was controversial in reception.  I did NOT care for it.  It was a one man show that lasted an hour.  That's a whole hour of a Glaswegian man yelling at me.  He had one vocal level and quality: Loud.  I felt that without variation, my mind wandered as I sweat in my seat.  There's something about Edinburgh theatres that makes them against air conditioning.  Almost every piece we went to required me to leave glistening.  Which is basically a more feminine way of saying that sweat was pooling off of me.  Not my most attractive of days, to be sure.  Following that show we had a seven hour break.  Seven. Hours.  And the weather was menopausal.  Hot flash of sun, pissing down rain.  Rinse and repeat.  During one of the hot flashes, KS and eventually LM and I found a grassy knoll at Prince Street Gardens.  It was lovely.  Slight breeze, sun dotting the ground through the shadow of thick leafed trees.  "Please don't let me leave.  I don't want to leave."  Oh. God. 

That's enough.

I ran lines in a cafe with KS and listened to MAR talk about his impending wedding.  Enjoying the people watching and calmness/humor of my friends.  "You can't take them with you."  Ugh.  I'm not listening!

And finally we saw the last show of the day.  It was a one woman storytelling sort.  It was alright.  She told stories about chance meetings of some strangers and intertwined it with her own recent relationship.  Frankly I enjoyed the other peoples' stories more than hers.  Hers was pedestrian and ordinary at best.  But perhaps I'm just a bit harsh on the subject matter.  However, if I am expected to sit for an hour in yet another sweltering room listening to relationship talk without trying to pass out from exhaustion then it had better be damn riveting.  Alas, it was just, meh.

Today began early with that costume fitting and continued onwards with rehearsal.  Another etude today had me pairing up with LM.  It's fascinating finding our characters' relationship.  It is through a sort of sexual tension mixed with fascination on my part.  We sit across from each other, look into each other's eyes, and for the next half hour, we move how we want to move.  The director will add things here and there like "focus on the status in the relationship" or "use a word or two."  We found that both his character and the Mermaid have the same status.  The same pull towards excitement.  And I found that the mermaid has more fight in her than I had originally thought.  LM also pointed out that she only waxes poetic when he comes into the picture.  I think there is an understanding between them that is deeper than I had originally believed when just reading the text.  Now, how to make that read...

The rest of the day focused on finding basic blocking, stage pictures, and finally cracking the problem of that last scene when the mermaid suddenly walks off into the ocean.  Yeah,  we call that the suspension of disbelief.  But I think we finally broke through the problem and I can see the relief on PB's face.  All in all it was highly productive. 

And, hero that PB is, as a reward he is giving us the morning off tomorrow so I get to catch up on sleep.  I am very lucky to be doing what I'm doing.  "You are leaving in less than six weeks."  Oh, shut it you ol' hag.

So all is well.  Not perfect, but I don't need it to be.  Perfection is boring.  I'd take an excessive catsuit fishtail over office work anyday.  Besides, as KT said, "too much tail is never a bad thing."

Anger Management and HSP

I've always hated shopping malls when I was a kid.  And that never changed.  Even now I'll break out in a sweat and hate my life when I know I have to go to one.  It's one benefit that the UK has.  Not that many supermalls in existance. 
I thought my hatred for these places came from the fact that I could never find clothes to fit me.  But I've recently come to realize that actually, my hatred comes more from the atmosphere itself.  The noises were too much, the lights too bright,  the echoing of footsteps, the overstimulation and movement of everything around you. People in your way, in too close proximity to you.  When I said I broke out into a sweat, I mean that literally. 
That was always my number one complaint about living in NYC as well.  Everything was just too much.  And I either shut down or I feel like I could scream for hours.  It makes me irritable and sensitive.
Now I'm not one to diagnose myself with anything.  In fact, I've always found it silly when friends of mine would go on MD.com or something and soon freak themselves out because what was a tiny common cold has now turned into the bubonic plague in their eyes.  That being said, KS was telling me about this thing called HSP, highly sensitive person, and the more I read about it, the more I see the similarities.  I admit it, I took the personal test of 28 questions.  It said if you checkmark at least fourteen of them then you could be highly sensitive.  ...I checked 24. 
Right. 
But this would explain the way I've been feeling the past few days. I've not been sleeping well and I've had sharp headaches in the lower back of my skull a lot.  This always heightens my irritability.  And on top of that we spent the past two days in Edinburgh at the Fringe.  Something I've always wanted to do and despite my mood, I had a really good time.  But there were some rough patches.

Allow me to explain what it feels like.

You are sitting in a theatre during a discussion on something tedious and not well planned out.  You are tired, so much so that you are a bit sick to your stomach.  You should have eaten a bigger breakfast and a smaller coffee.  It's warm in the room, stuffy.  And people are getting situated in their seats.  You roll your neck from side to side, feeling the tight pull of the muscles that are whinging from your effort.  Beads of sweat are starting to form on your forehead and you slow down your breathing in order to try to calm yourself down. 
One of the speakers clears his throat.  It is a forced nervous sound that pings off of the walls.  He does this before every sentence he says.  ...he says a lot. 

It's fine.  It's totally fine. 

Behind you someone is trying to be delicate with their backpack zipper.  You understand that they are trying not to draw attention.  You acknowledge that they are trying to be respectful.  But the zipper and the rustling are now so magnified in your ears that it feels like it's in surround sound.  JUST OPEN THE F*&KING BAG!!!

shhhhhhh.  it's fine.  It's totally fine. 

The lady with the strange orange hair sitting diagonally in front of you pulls out a candy with a crinkly wrapper.  She doesn't care who hears it.  It crinkles.  Slowly, she unwraps it.  There's a pulsing happening behind your right eye.  Like someone is knocking on a door that happens to be your eye socket.  By now you've clenched your hands into balls and folded your arms tightly.  Someone is smacking their gum in the row behind you.  You can hear the saliva and chewing.  Your whole body is one big ball of tension.

It's.  Fine.

Oh God. The throat clearer is speaking again.  Cough.  Ahem.  AHEM.  COUGH.  Your right hand is shaking.  Stop being stupid.  Why is it so hot in here?  Why doesn't someone get him a glass of water.  I need some aspirin.  Focus on something else.  Anything else.  Take a deep breath.  That's better.

COUGH.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Oh my GOD!  MAKE IT STOP! SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP!  (mentally you throw chairs, stomp on people's belongings, cry, scream, hold your hands over your ears, and what's more you are shaking with anger.  Anger at everyone for being in your space.  Anger at yourself for not being able to handle normal situations and for not being tolerant of people's ticks).

...

And yet,  you never made a sound.  You never moved.  You may have sighed once or twice or slightly shifted in your chair.  But you never did any of what your whole body and mind wanted to do.  Instead,  the talk session ends, and all anyone really notices is that Stacy is her normal irritable/reserved/at time, pain in the ass self. 

And you don't remember a damn thing of that lecture. 
_______

That little scene has happened about twice a day since Monday.  It's embarrassing.  Even though no one really sees it.  It doesn't take much.  The birds that caw outside my window non-stop all night.  A popping of gum.  A moment of indecision from someone.  A sudden light change.  It's ridiculous. 

So I'm hoping with some solid sleep, I may be able to combat it a little more successfully than I've been doing.  Because seriously...I'm going to lose friends this way.  Or my mind.


ANYWAY! 
Believe it or not, all that aside, I enjoyed a lot of the Fringe and I've always been a fan of Edinburgh.  The first day felt a bit of a waste of time though in that we had two of those talk sessions and saw what may have been one of the worst pieces of theatre I've ever seen.  Have any of you ever seen that 1990's film "She's all that" ?  You know that scene where the lead guy performs this weird ass theatre piece?  wait.  I'll show you...

It was like that.  But ten times more that than any "that" you could imagine.  The group was from Poland and we're talking full on naked woman being painted with green mud while grunting the hebrew alphabet, a 12 year old hasidic jew boy riding a tricycle in circles quoting the Torah, an old dude in a diaper and black and white cape rubbing dry paint brushes all over himself, three disco-glee club singing white clown angels  squealing and harmonizing over words like "HEAR MY WORDS" (for five minutes) and something about "foreskin".  I'm telling you.  It was...something.  Eight people walked out.  It was so hot in there and I was so overwhelmed by the shitshow I was watching that had I been in an exit accessible seat, my ass woulda been out of there.  I'll admit, I find it pretty egregious when people walk out of performances because it isn't (most of the time) the actors/artists fault and it's the last thing you'd want someone to do to you.  But everyone has their limit.  And man, there is not enough alcohol in the world that could have made me enjoy that piece.

The other piece we saw was called The Idiot at the Wall.  I know a lovely girl in it so I was pleased that we scored tickets.  The piece itself was alright.  There were holes in it and I'm not too sure about the direction.  Apparently it was a two hour show and they cut it in half for the Fringe.  It's a shame, I wish I had seen it in full length.  But my friend was very very good in it.  Such a beautiful presence and her vocal quality was perfect. 

At the end of the first day I was knackered and a bit underwhelmed with it all.  FM let me and LY stay at her flat for the night which is on Grassmarket st.  I think that is my favorite area of Edinburgh.  It has this small town street feel in the middle of a huge city.  Great cafes and vintage shops, central to everything, and you can hear the pipeband tattoo going on in the castle nearby.  We unwould over peppermind tea and a good chat.   FM is like my little sister.  I never thought I'd connect with her when I first met her.  She is so much my opposite.  But she has been an accidental sunshine in my days.  And she's the best person to watch a show with.  FM sees shows and movies through the eyes of a child.  What she feels is written all over her face and if she is entertained or bored, you absolutely know it.  She is hysterically funny but doesn't always know it.  And though she lives in a different world and often on a different wave length than me, she is a kind and gentle hearted person who just wants to be loved.  ...and to be on Downton Abbey.  ...and to own as many animals as possible.  She's wonderful. I hope she gets her own reality television show someday.  I know I'd watch it.

The second day of the Fringe was MUCH better.  I had a bit of sleep but still felt a bit volatile.  Luckily there were no more lectures to go to.  Only many a show.  The first was a full scots music show based off of a Robert Burns poem "Tam O'shanter". I LOVED it.  And I was proud to say I understood 75% of what they were saying.  Which is far better than where I was a year ago. 
Halfway through the show it made me so sad that I won't be around this anymore.  There's something so beautiful about the tradition, pride, sensitivity, and boozy-ness of the Scottish people.  I love how they can be crass and rambunctious one minute and break your heart the next.  There was one song, (one of FM's favorite and now one of mine) which of course I can't remember the name of now but had something to do with "heelin' john" or something.  It was so beautiful.  UPDATE:  I have since been told it is called "John Highland Man." Mystery solved.

The second show was at the Underbelly and it was called Static.  Definitely up there as one of my favorite pieces.  It had a really solid cast, great music and projections, and the physical movement used was really well done.  It was a piece that could have easily been platform/soapbox god awful. But instead it was a bit edgy, engaging, and completely entertaining.

The third show was a double header.  Two short forty-five minute pieces.  One by David Greig.  Which I enjoyed.  The ending was so-so.  The writing was solid though I wasn't too sure about the direction.  And it made me wonder if both pieces were directed by the same person because their speech patterns were the same.  If you've ever seen Gilmore Girls, it was sort of like that.  Which is fine.  But not for both pieces.  The theatre itself was a gorgeous large space at the Traverse.
The second piece...well...I didn't really care for it to be honest.  Except for the rather attractive lead guy who managed to have a scene where he was completely butt naked.  I dunno.  I guess there's something about a Fringe show that makes your clothes come off...
But that's fine.  It distracted me from the hideous schmacting that the other character was doing.  Oof.

Finally, the last show I went to was Mark Thomas' Bravo Figaro.  A sort of mix between a stand-up comedy, life story telling, laughter through tears, truth spewing goodness... it was just fantastic.  I loved it.  It's exactly the type theatre I enjoy.  Honest.  Great timing.  Great jokes.  Great pain.  Just.  Great.  And though I was SOOO incredibly tired by then, that show kept me focused and engaged.  Wonderful.

Today we were back to rehearsals on The Special.  I had a few HSP moments (we'll call them that even though the proper medical term would be toddler-tantrum-totallus).  But we ran the show three times with each run having a different focus.  We tweaked objectives, worked on pace, integrated some props.  We are slowly trucking along.   I also had a tiny meeting with the costume designer. ...yeah, it's a work in progress.  Stay tuned for photos from the show.  It'll be something I'm sure.

Speaking of photos, KS took some time to take some new headshots for me.  I think they turned out quite well and now it's a matter of narrowing them down. I think my top two are these ones (not touched up yet):

Alright.  I think that's plenty long for an entry.  To be continued...

x

Hike My Ass Up and Over. Change Gonna Come.

When I think of Scotland in the future, I'll think of the smell of perpetual humid fall, a chill that seeps into your bones, a lilt of music in the people's voices, soft rain (or torrential rain, depending on which minute of the day you are in), the smell of stale beer, fish and chips, and the Neds axe body cologne that must have been put on in layers.  Surprisingly enough, the whole scene is comforting.  I enjoy hearing bag pipes as I walk home, whether they be playing traditional scottish highland tunes, or a version of Led Zeppelin.  I've said it before, but I'm comfortable here. Not necessarily just Glasgow, but the UK in general.  It will be...unsettling to leave it.  It isn't just leaving school for the last time that unsettles me.  Actually it isn't that at all.  I'm done with school and am ready to start being paid instead of doing all the paying, for what I love.  But Europe, I will miss.  The feeling of a tight theatre family, I will miss.  This particular family.

This week has been exhausting.  (I sat here trying to find a more interesting word than exhausted but found myself too tired to try so I went with it.)  We've still very much been in the experimental stage of rehearsals.  I am beginning to find my footing, or finning in this case, for the Mermaid.  (I apologize.  That was a lame attempt at a joke. But the delete button is too far away from my pinky in my worn out state.  So it stays.  Matter of fact, all typos will stay as well.  On principle.)
In one rehearsal, we spent a good amount of time finding our animal, like we did when Glynn taught us at the Globe.  I, however, am a mermaid.  So my animal, is a fish.  Shocking.  I know.  So I spent some time in movement, trying to feel how a fish moves...out of water.  I am sort of sticking with an undulation or wave like feel.  But it's very confusing finding that balance between human and animal.  How primal is she?  How aggressive?  How weak?  What does she think of humans?  Is she dangerous?  Is she intelligent?  How long can she survive out of water?  And how the hell am I suppose to be a mermaid without feeling like a total idiot?
We did many a day on Chekhov's gestures, then running the scene thinking about the gestures, then running the scene naturalistically.  We've run the show with me only mouthing my lines so that the characters that don't hear the mermaid speak can feel what it is like and where the pauses are that they have to fill with action while I'm speaking.  We've done a run where we have to say every line differently that we've ever said it before and make big choices, so we don't get too stale. 
We've spent two days working on Atmosphere.  What is the feeling in the room at the top of the show?  When does it change?  How does it change?  How do we change it to what we want it to be?  Thank God this has been my research project otherwise I'd be totally lost.  And even so, it's a funny thing to try and build an atmosphere that is "warm orangy light" or "dark thunderous storm"  or "dripping puddles" or "chrome metallic."  Although, in truth, atmosphere isn't about what you call it, it's about what feels right.  All actors have to feel what they have built, recognize how they built it, and therefore be able to build it again.  You could name it Yeehaw Caddywhompus if you wanted to and it wouldn't matter, just as long as your Yeehaw is the same Yeehaw as mine. 
Oof.  I am all over the place tonight.  Apologies.

Today we did a run through of the entire show for the tech crew and then we did a run with beats.  Beats is where the director (or anyone not in the show) reads the script out loud beat by beat without vocal inflection.  After each beat, the character who says the line (beat) takes in the line, feels the intention, and then says their line with the proper inflection.  Now the "proper" inflection comes from listening and responding to the other characters and how they said their "beat."  It is a lesson in action/reaction and forcing an actor to be generous.  It is also incredibly exhausting (there's that word again).  It also took my lines in a completely different direction.  Then again, I've been all over the place with her as it is.  I've also been tied up with butcher string, saran wrapped all around my lower half, and bruised up from flopping around on a metal table.  So I'm beat.  But I think we are making progress.  And progress is good.

I am enjoying working with these people immensely.  Most are naturally generous and I feel safe in trying almost anything.  Which is good considering the weird stuff we've done so far.  LM has been rambunctious and always keeps me on my toes.  He is never the same when he delivers, which keeps things fresh and a little dangerous.  But I trust him and even though we've got some rather intense moments (i.e. his character cuts me with a knife and licks it, for starters) I have yet to feel unnerved by any of our scene work.

Next week we are at the Edinburgh Fringe for Monday and Tuesday and won't be back to rehearsals until Weds.  But PB says that we have another costume meeting then so we can make some more solid decisions.  I think I will feel SO much better once it is finalized.  Because at this point, it could be anything.  And "anything" makes me nervous.

I'd also like to bring up a unimportant but humorous occurrence.  The metal kitchen tables for our show just came in and were assembled today.  These are the ones that I will be perched on for most of the show.  They are taller than the ones we've been rehearsing with.  Taller as in I have to hike my ass up and roll myself over onto the thing to get on it.  It makes me feel incredibly graceful...like a mountain goat.  It's moments like these that I feel like I'll never be older than eight years old when my brother and next door neighbor used to leap up onto this huge square electrical transformer box thing (probably not the best idea in hindsight, but it made a perfect homebase for Hide-and-Seek) and I'd spend a half an hour trying to hike myself up on it., becoming incredibly winded, with sweat dripping off my frizzy bangs (fringe, for you UK'ers).  By the time I got up there we'd be called into lunch and my victory was but short lived.  Thank the Lord that step stools have been invented.

Other than that I taught ballet again, which continues to put me in a better mood and gives me some exercise.  Though my knees are definitely not what they used to be.

We also had a Olympic Opening Ceremony party at MAR's house.  It's weird to feel a little loyalty to the Brits.  Seeing London all lit up and feeling like it is a little bit mine as well.  However, that is not to say I don't have some patriotism for the ol' US of A.  I may have laughed that Andy Roddick got his butt whooped and will be watching Murray in the Finals on Sunday. But I also did my share of bragging when the women's gymnastics team barely broke a sweat when they took gold.  I figure we have the same colors in our flag...I can represent both.  I am extremely disappointed though that I didn't know that there were Olympic soccer games happening in Glasgow and that the US women's team played here.  I've always wanted to go to an olympic event and soccer would have been crazy good.  But alas, not this round.  So close and yet so far.

I'm afraid that pretty much covers it.  Not all to thrilling I'm afraid.  And it is passing like a blur.  In the words of Sam Cooke (I've been hooked on oldies SO much as of late), "A Change is Gonna Come".

See you soon   x