Be Tina Turner.

Right.  I don't even remember what's all happened in the past five days.  And the stuff I remember...I'd rather not rehash.  So I'll give a brief over view and then talk about random London stuff to fill the space.

We've had a week of massive amount of work.  More voice, more movement, and tons of chekhov (Michael).  The presentation is this Thursday and we only yesterday were given loose blocking.  Most of us are not off book.  ...this is not the way I work.  But.  I have to say the method has its good points as well.  The idea is to make a physical gesture for the feeling or "vibes" that your character is giving or taking.  Then attaching the words to said gesture.  Then dropping the gesture, but keeping the vibes and feelings from it as you perform the scene.  This is only semi helpful to me.  Much of the time my brain skips too far ahead, remembers the words without the gesture, and then when I suddenly have to back track to use the gesture, I feel like an idiot who flails her arms and forgets her lines because it feels so unnatural.  I get the method.  Or rather what it's supposed to do. ...I think perhaps this particular part of the work is just not for me.  I also feel that due to the time constraints, I'm panicking.  If I had six months or even six weeks to rehearse this shindig, I'd be fine with flapping my arms and "radiating my inner light".  But knowing I may make an ass out of myself on the Globe stage in just four days...well it ups the stakes a bit. 
Had a bit of a melt down on Thursday and Friday.  Felt totally swallowed and helpless.  I find that since my scenes are at the close of the showing, we rarely get to touch on them.  And when we do, it gets glazed over and generalized.  I feel rushed and ill prepared.  Two things that immediately make my head explode.  I am lucky to have a few people here who are good calming influences.  But Friday, there was no saving me.  I knew I was set for a good cry, but the thing about being with each other all the time and working all the time is, there is no time to schedule that good cry in.  In this situation you are supposed to be able to access the character's feelings at all times, but there's no time to access your own.
I released some of that pressure however, (and inconveniently) when we had our 3minute individual tutorials with Glynn-duh (movement).  She asked us to come up with a question to ask her, but in true Glynn style, she completely disregarded mine and cut right to the chase.  It sort of went like this:
---insert question Stacy asked here---
Glynn: "No, no, no.  Nevermind about that.  You know what your problem is?"
Me:  um.  No, ma'am.
Glynn:  You are an incredibly sensitive and responsive actor...
Me: Thank you.
Glynn: But you don't know your own G*ddamn size.
Me: ...excuse me?
Glynn: You don't know how big you are.
Me: ...
Glynn:  You are bigger than life.
Me:...
Glynn:  You are a rawring lion.
Me:  Yes.
Glynn: Right.  So stop giving me this fucking meek meh meh meh crap and own your size.
Stacy's Inner Monologue: absolutely speechless.  no one ever talks to me like this.  (tear runs down face).  Hold your shit together, Stacy Lynn.
Glynn:  Why do you do that?
Stacy:  I...I...it's just...I'm (SIM: deep breath. say it even though you know it's stupid. tell the truth.)  I'm insecure about my weight.
Glynn: Stop that.  Right now.  You need to get the fuck over that.  You've got no time for that.
You know Tina Turner?
Stacy:  Uh...Yes.
Glynn: Yeah, well so do I.  Like, for real.  Her back up singer sang at my son's wedding.
Stacy: Ok.
Glynn: You're fucking Tina Turner.  Larger. than. life.  So fucking act it.
Stacy: ...
Glynn: OK!!?
Stacy: OK!
Glynn: Good. Now go away.
(Insert embarrassing cry in a corner here)

Yeah.  I just got called out.  Good for her.  I doubt I'd let anyone else talk to me like that.  But she was right.  And I knew it.  Now I just have to figure out a way be Tina Turner...

Anyway.  Saturday was a full day of rehearsal. ...for almost everyone else.  I sat for seven hours observing since they were working scenes in the order of the play. By 6pm, I had been worked a total of 30minutes.  AND we never got to the last scene.  We'll be doing that tomorrow.  Right.  I keep telling myself not to panic.  But I want so badly to be good.  Sometimes it's difficult to trust that you will be.  It's going to be a long few days.

So today was our last day off in London.  I did nothing for the most part.  I went to buy cheap black shoes on Oxford street and had an early dinner with Lolo at Cafe Rouge.  We had exceptionally rude french waiters.  Felt like being back in France again.  Charming. 

Now for some randomness...

They say "tits" a lot here.  I don't think I've heard that word so much in my life.  "Wow. Everything here has gone tits up."  or "Gee, that really does my tit in."  "Yeah, that really gets on my tits." "They are off their tits."  Quite creative.

There are exceptionally good looking men here.  Must be something in the water.  That and we walk through a business area on the way to the theatre everyday.  Men in suits.  Men who actually do their hair.  Men who have clothes that fit.  A rarity, where I'm from.  I don't know if any of them are pretty on the inside.  But it's certainly not a hardship to look at.

Pedestrian crossings are called Zebra (ZEH-bras) and Pelicans.

When ordering "Coffee" you must specify whether you meant latte, americano, flat white, espresso, cappuchino, or just plain filter (drip).  They will look at you impatiently if you think that just saying "coffee" was info enough.  This is the opposite in America.  If you order a "coffee,"  you will indeed get a drip coffee unless otherwise discriptionally embellished.

That's it for now.  Ta.

Thinking of you  x