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.