It's been a bit of an Indian Summer here. They say that normally it will be sunny 1 out of every four days or so. But actually it's been the opposite. The past week we've been sweating with our fall clothes on and melting in the heated rooms. Today however, was not that day. Rain. Beautiful, dripping, slanted rain. Feels like back at home. Even has the curbside puddles that cars whizzing by drench you with. But unlike NY, the water accumulating is not green.
Yesterday I felt a bit of a rebel and skipped the first seminar. ...I should have done with the rest of the day as well but the "good student" within screamed at me to get off my bum and go. The "good student" needs to shut up. The three meetings were about the Student Union (american equiv= ASB), International Student meeting where all I learned pretty much was that they will kick me out of the country after I graduate, and then the Equality and Diversity seminar where forty five minutes of PC talk could have been wrapped up into a single solitary statement: Don't be a dick to each other. End Scene.
Our head of department (Mark Saunders, a name I will no doubt be using often) suggested we check out a seminar that was taking place at one of the big popular theatres in Glasgow, the Tramway. It is a bunch of theatres that were converted from an old train station. Some big honcho members of the National Theatre of Scotland and artists of the Scottish community were having a bit of a round table feed back discussion. Some of the elite will be doing workshops with us in the future, so half the class ended up going.
We decided, "hey, we're cheap. and it's only about a 40 minute walk. we have time. let's walk it." ...An hour later, a couple of wrong turns, and a bit of perspiration, we found it. Definitely off the beaten path. But the space itself is wonderful.
The seminar itself was...ok. At times there was a lot of background and babble. But I learned an exceptional amount about the Scottish theatre history. They put on a couple of scenes that I was later told are classic Scottish theatre and...I didn't like it. What's more is, I didn't get it. And THAT is what worried me. I thought, oh no, what if I find I don't like or get all scottish theatre. But later, I made the spur of the moment decision to stay on and watch the show that was playing "The Missing" by the NTS (nat'l tha of scotland), and it totally changed my mind. Moral of story: Never Assume. Assuming makes an ASS of U and ME.
The original idea was to leave the seminar and go to the planned Fresher's Ball which included a Ceilidh (pronunciation: Kailey. yeah. right.) A ceilidh is a traditional scottish dance and I would have wanted to see it and it would have put me out of my comfort zone, which is I suppose the theme of the week. But something just told me to stay and watch The Missing.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, people. This is why theatre is beautiful. This is why I go. It was wonderfully written, and WONDERFULLY acted. The set was simple in that it was a black and white checkered floor with pairs of shoes lining the edges of the stage. Exposed brick of the old train station smattered the walls. One of the actors played the cello and there was a cast of five or so. Each member took many characters and each time they changed roles, they would put on a different pairs of shoes. A woman of 70 would become a teenager. A man would become a gossipy old lady. And they had a moving pixeled screen that would flash and paint pictures that propelled the story forward. It ended with them standing on chairs, singing something so heartbreakingly scottish, and behind the screen could be seen all the tiny pairs of red children's shoes of those missing children that were abducted. Oh you had to be there.
It seems that's how it's going to be. One minute I'll second guess myself, and the next I'll be reassured that I'm exactly where I should be. I'll question my ability, then realize I'm alright. Up. Down. Up. Down. A seesaw. A merry-go-round. A swing. I'm in a foreign playground with scabs on my knees. Let's see how high I can go.
I've read all three plays now by the writers who will be writing for us. I can honestly say I liked them all. Ok. I LOVED two of them. I liked and appreciated the third. Either way, if there was any question of whether we'd be with talented writers, I no longer worry. These people are Gifted. The writers are Oliver Emanuel, Lewis Hetherington, and Rona Munro. Google.uk that stuff. We are lucky duckies, friends.
In case you were wondering what was on Glaswegian Radio outside my window, it was the drunken sounds of Red Hot Chili Peppers from the returning students below. Surprisingly, it was actually quite good. taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake me to the place i looooooooooooooooooooooove. take me alllllllllllll the way. ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo (breath) oooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Other than that, I'm afraid I've not any more horribly embarrassing or amusing stories for the moment. Today I've stayed indoors after a jaunt to the grocery store (see facebook photo of soup can for a good laugh), skyped with mom, dad, and aunt kim, hung out with MC in the kitchen philosophizing over the horrors if we were to ever go blind or deaf (riveting), and studied.
But never fear, there are plenty more adventures to be had.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up...
No comments:
Post a Comment