There is a peculiar type of bird, somewhere near the roof of my building that sounds like it is dying a horrid and gruesome death. The cawing/screeching/ululating is constant, in surround sound, and is driving me batty. It is but a slight improvement to the bourbon drinking chain smoking british harpist who liked to have loud sex with her window open in the room next door. But only slight. Dear baby Jesus, please put both out of my misery. Their misery. Ok, I don't care who's misery, just press the almighty mute button on them both. Please and thank you.
First week back. It was better than I had expected though not as full as I would have liked.
Monday, we had a speaker come in from a company called Visible fictions.
Tuesday, we had a clowning class mixed with a bit of Feldenkrais technique.
Wednesday, we had a speaker from the Oran Mor company.
Thursday, we had a fantastic actor/director/political activist Cora Bisset in the morning and then a rather brash casting director in the afternoon.
...and now I have the next five days off.
I should be grateful. But I'm not. I'm mildly annoyed. I hate being idle. But I've created a to do list a mile long to keep me occupied, even though none of the "to do's" give me pleasure.
I find I don't really want to talk about the speakers this week. I'm still sort of in a vacation kind of mood where I can't be bothered to find just the right words to express my thoughts. But the one day I know I need to touch on was the Clowning.
A representative from the Plutot La Vie company came in and gave us an introductory class on clowning. Something that A: scares the shit out of me. and B: makes me think of red noses, climbing out of small cars, and doing somersaults and other tricks that are not funny. I'll be the first to admit it, I was wrong. It was a really good day. Clowning isn't about schmacting and trying to make people laugh. You can't muscle or force anything. It's about the opposite. It's about simplicity. Clowns see the world in a different way. They see the beauty and awe in the smallest things. They look for approval and applause but in an honest way. As our speaker said, it is Skill not Will. And also, "Stanislavsky: An actor prepares. Clowns...don't." Clowning is also about vulnerability and embracing failure. A clown is the eternal optimist but the one who will never "get it right." It is the biggest lesson in that "there is no right." And if the clown achieves their goal, it will not be for long. There is no shame with a clown. There is no alterior motive. And at the end of the day, when everything has gone tits up, they will be the first to think, "that's alright. I'll get it tomorrow."
It frightens me. To be able to stand in front of people, get something completely "wrong" and then have someone say to me, "That was a complete failure, Stacy Lynn. Do you know who's fault that is?" And for me to have to say in front of everyone, "mine." But that's part of what a clown is. It's feeling what you feel, in your most vulnerable state, and then letting EVERYONE see that. But there's also a pure freedom in engaging with a crowd and not trying to be clever or to impress. The goals are simple: get applause, be appreciated. Everything else is secondary. I think that wide-eyed optimism would be good for me. I can't believe I'm saying this but, if I were to take any classes in the future...I'd probably look more into clowning. If it makes you feel uncomfortable as an actor, if it makes you feel like you want to run or hide...it's probably exactly what you need.
In other news, I'm addicted to Wimbledon. I spent four hours in a pub yesterday watching the Ferrer v Murray quarterfinals and will probably be glued to the telly tomorrow to watch Murray v Tsonga. For some reason, I've really gotten attached to the game.
In my excess time that I see coming up, I will be writing my research paper, researching the NY and shakespeare festival job circuit, and possibly starting to write a novel. I don't know. Maybe. I've been feeling the itch for some outside creativity. And if I can't turn off my brain, I had better use it.
I'll end this by saying that I also received my grades for the past term. It was the first time we'd been given a number instead of a pass/fail. Go figure, my reviews were mixed. It was to be expected considering my Renaissance experience and the fact that I think writing subjective personal summative statements about acting is absolute dog shite. I've had a few moments where the old Stacy, the one that never settled for an A- and always felt that anything less than a 4.0 meant that I was mediocre, came back to taunt me. But then I remember it's not about grades. No casting director is EVER going to ask to see my report card. They don't care if I got a "disctinctive" or "merit" rating on my diploma. Some won't even care that I got a Masters. In the end, it's about my acting and whether or not they want to work with me. What it's really about, truly, is whether they believe me or not. That's what I want. When I act, I want you to believe me. And so far, I think I'm doing just fine on that account.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Buh Danke Danke and the Maltese Falcon
I feel good. Like, really good. Like, back on track-gonna make it happen-who's your daddy good. I can't remember the last time I had a vacation that was actually a vacation. Where I didn't have to think of what's next or what's now, but just rest. Sure, the past two weeks have given me time to deal with what was. But even that is a luxury. I hadn't realized how long I've been putting off just dealing with myself. Figuring out why I'm feeling a certain way. I've been able to really decompress, sift through the muddy garbage that's been clinging to me, and I feel like I have some clarity. I just hope I'm able to hold onto it for my final three months here.
Somewhere along day 11 or 12 of vacay, I got this feeling of excitement about a new beginning again. About the end grad school and really putting the pedal to the metal and getting out there and making things happen. It was the first time I thought of "the after" and didn't feel completely shit-your-pants-petrified. The fear is still there. But there's something more now. It's like a little mental cheer leader/dominatrix cracking her whip saying, "ooooooooo it's time to make things happen."
But back to the vacation. Malta was perfect. Sure the hotel was below par, we had no air conditioning the first night, and when we tried to boil water in the kettle it blew the electricity in our room...three times, but that didn't matter. We (KS, and I) wanted quiet, to read tons of books for fun, and get sun, to swim in the pool, to walk around the local town, and to swim in the blue lagoon. Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, and check. Photos are up on facebook if you care to take a gander.
I look in the mirror now and see a healthier skin tone and a more relaxed face. We lived off of granola bars and hodge podge sandwiches that we assembled from a tiny bodega down the street. We barely spent any money on food except for those two pizzas on the terrace and a glass of REALLY lovely white Maltese wine. And in the end, miraculously, I even lost a pound.
What's more, I laughed my ass off at least once a day. The filter and reservation that I keep a tight strangle hold on (most of time I don't realize I do it) slipped and we had some seriously silly and stupid moments. Which was really great. It's a side I don't see of myself often and that I wish would come out more. KS is good about that. I feel completely comfortable making an ass out of myself, and we can occupy a room for hours reading and not feel like we have to entertain each other. That's rare for me. Normally I get homocidal after a few days. But ten days and we never had a hitch. But then again, I could see on her face how badly she needed this kind of vacation, too.
But yes, I caught myself laughing at myself in the shower remembering something I did, we did reenactments of Titanic on the balcony, and were ridiculous both times we had a layover in Dusseldorf, Germany. Which by the way is the quietest airport I've ever been to. Stupid case in point: I believe there was an instance where I referred to a bum as a Buh Danke Danke.
After Malta we flew into London and drove to Oxford to KS's mum's cottage. Like a real cottage. It was like something out of "The Holiday" movie. Older than my country, surrounded by gardens, horses running next store, church bells in the distance, and peace and quiet. Oh. Yes please. Her mum made wholewheat homemade pancakes which were AMAZING and for dinner Kate made homemade wheat pizzas which were incredible. The first day all we did was sit on the couch eating HobNobs (I will miss these), drinking tea, and watching Bridezillas and Wimbledon. I really got into tennis for the first time (although Nadal really needs to get a new tick. The whole picking wedgie and then rubbing his nose thing...ew). And I also watched Faulty Towers for the first time which apparently is iconic.
The next day we went into Oxford to walk around the University a bit. Whoa, people. Talk about money, ancient tradition, and gorgeous architecture. You could just smell the Eliteness. And I felt a bit of a pang. I would have loved to go to a school like that. I admit it, I like prestige. Oxford, to me, is right up there with Yale or USC. And the power of a name...well it may cost a lot, but the amount of doors that open to you...well it's almost worth it. But I am where I'm meant to be. And I'm pretty darn happy about it. So whatever.
Anywhoo, then I hopped a bus to Stratford-upon-Avon. Just a day by myself, walking around the small town, seeing where Shakespeare was born and where he died, seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre buildings, the small shops, the small river. It's the epitome of quaint. I stopped into a small cafe (avoiding the Starbucks and Costas and Neros because it just felt wrong to choose a conglomerate in such an historical setting) and proceeded to have a really nice cup of coffee and the best strawberry cream cake ever. I sat reading, by myself, with a huge grin on my face, content.
The train ride back into Glasgow was eventful. We got up extra early and took a bus into London, then the subway to the train station. Then we took the train towards home. But about three hours into it the conductor came on the intercom to tell us that there was a landslide and we had to get off the train because it's been cancelled. This is where the efficiency should come in. But alas, this is the UK, where efficiency is a dirty word. We and a couple hundred people waited for coach buses. Not enough arrived. So KS and I followed a rather good looking talkative gent onto a train from Preston to Oxelholm. He entertained us the whole way. Then after more waiting, they put us on an hour long cab ride from Oxelholm to Carlisle. Then another train from Carlisle to Glasgow. It was a very long day. And as we came into Glasgow Central, I sat there thinking "this is the first time I'm not uber enthused to start back up again." Being relaxed is addicting.
The following day I was up early to go to a conference that was being held at the RCS. It was geared towards voice and speech teachers but they allowed a few actors to come as well. I was hoping to get some good seminars out of the bunch and one of the speakers was John Tiffany, the artistic director of the NTS (National Theatre of Scotland). Big cheese. So I went. and I have to say, the best thing about it was the food. I learned very little. And it just reminded me that I've been in school way too long. I am in NO way saying I know everything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to know everything in acting. But you can only get the basics so many times before it just becomes annoying. There really comes a point when it's just time TO DO. To experience through doing. To get a job, and learn on it. And I think that's where I'm at. There are times that I worry that I'll come back to NYC and get out there and get a big ol' shock in that I'm below par. But mostly, I just know that it's time to stop being a student and get out there. But anyway, the people were nice at the conference. The cake pops were nummy. And the glass of wine and excessive amounts of coffee I drank were much appreciated.
Other than that, I've been trying to get my life in order to start again tomorrow with a week of seminars. woop. woop. But I feel good. And that's just dandy.
Somewhere along day 11 or 12 of vacay, I got this feeling of excitement about a new beginning again. About the end grad school and really putting the pedal to the metal and getting out there and making things happen. It was the first time I thought of "the after" and didn't feel completely shit-your-pants-petrified. The fear is still there. But there's something more now. It's like a little mental cheer leader/dominatrix cracking her whip saying, "ooooooooo it's time to make things happen."
But back to the vacation. Malta was perfect. Sure the hotel was below par, we had no air conditioning the first night, and when we tried to boil water in the kettle it blew the electricity in our room...three times, but that didn't matter. We (KS, and I) wanted quiet, to read tons of books for fun, and get sun, to swim in the pool, to walk around the local town, and to swim in the blue lagoon. Check, check, check, check, check, check, check, and check. Photos are up on facebook if you care to take a gander.
I look in the mirror now and see a healthier skin tone and a more relaxed face. We lived off of granola bars and hodge podge sandwiches that we assembled from a tiny bodega down the street. We barely spent any money on food except for those two pizzas on the terrace and a glass of REALLY lovely white Maltese wine. And in the end, miraculously, I even lost a pound.
What's more, I laughed my ass off at least once a day. The filter and reservation that I keep a tight strangle hold on (most of time I don't realize I do it) slipped and we had some seriously silly and stupid moments. Which was really great. It's a side I don't see of myself often and that I wish would come out more. KS is good about that. I feel completely comfortable making an ass out of myself, and we can occupy a room for hours reading and not feel like we have to entertain each other. That's rare for me. Normally I get homocidal after a few days. But ten days and we never had a hitch. But then again, I could see on her face how badly she needed this kind of vacation, too.
But yes, I caught myself laughing at myself in the shower remembering something I did, we did reenactments of Titanic on the balcony, and were ridiculous both times we had a layover in Dusseldorf, Germany. Which by the way is the quietest airport I've ever been to. Stupid case in point: I believe there was an instance where I referred to a bum as a Buh Danke Danke.
After Malta we flew into London and drove to Oxford to KS's mum's cottage. Like a real cottage. It was like something out of "The Holiday" movie. Older than my country, surrounded by gardens, horses running next store, church bells in the distance, and peace and quiet. Oh. Yes please. Her mum made wholewheat homemade pancakes which were AMAZING and for dinner Kate made homemade wheat pizzas which were incredible. The first day all we did was sit on the couch eating HobNobs (I will miss these), drinking tea, and watching Bridezillas and Wimbledon. I really got into tennis for the first time (although Nadal really needs to get a new tick. The whole picking wedgie and then rubbing his nose thing...ew). And I also watched Faulty Towers for the first time which apparently is iconic.
The next day we went into Oxford to walk around the University a bit. Whoa, people. Talk about money, ancient tradition, and gorgeous architecture. You could just smell the Eliteness. And I felt a bit of a pang. I would have loved to go to a school like that. I admit it, I like prestige. Oxford, to me, is right up there with Yale or USC. And the power of a name...well it may cost a lot, but the amount of doors that open to you...well it's almost worth it. But I am where I'm meant to be. And I'm pretty darn happy about it. So whatever.
Anywhoo, then I hopped a bus to Stratford-upon-Avon. Just a day by myself, walking around the small town, seeing where Shakespeare was born and where he died, seeing the Royal Shakespeare Company theatre buildings, the small shops, the small river. It's the epitome of quaint. I stopped into a small cafe (avoiding the Starbucks and Costas and Neros because it just felt wrong to choose a conglomerate in such an historical setting) and proceeded to have a really nice cup of coffee and the best strawberry cream cake ever. I sat reading, by myself, with a huge grin on my face, content.
The train ride back into Glasgow was eventful. We got up extra early and took a bus into London, then the subway to the train station. Then we took the train towards home. But about three hours into it the conductor came on the intercom to tell us that there was a landslide and we had to get off the train because it's been cancelled. This is where the efficiency should come in. But alas, this is the UK, where efficiency is a dirty word. We and a couple hundred people waited for coach buses. Not enough arrived. So KS and I followed a rather good looking talkative gent onto a train from Preston to Oxelholm. He entertained us the whole way. Then after more waiting, they put us on an hour long cab ride from Oxelholm to Carlisle. Then another train from Carlisle to Glasgow. It was a very long day. And as we came into Glasgow Central, I sat there thinking "this is the first time I'm not uber enthused to start back up again." Being relaxed is addicting.
The following day I was up early to go to a conference that was being held at the RCS. It was geared towards voice and speech teachers but they allowed a few actors to come as well. I was hoping to get some good seminars out of the bunch and one of the speakers was John Tiffany, the artistic director of the NTS (National Theatre of Scotland). Big cheese. So I went. and I have to say, the best thing about it was the food. I learned very little. And it just reminded me that I've been in school way too long. I am in NO way saying I know everything. It is IMPOSSIBLE to know everything in acting. But you can only get the basics so many times before it just becomes annoying. There really comes a point when it's just time TO DO. To experience through doing. To get a job, and learn on it. And I think that's where I'm at. There are times that I worry that I'll come back to NYC and get out there and get a big ol' shock in that I'm below par. But mostly, I just know that it's time to stop being a student and get out there. But anyway, the people were nice at the conference. The cake pops were nummy. And the glass of wine and excessive amounts of coffee I drank were much appreciated.
Other than that, I've been trying to get my life in order to start again tomorrow with a week of seminars. woop. woop. But I feel good. And that's just dandy.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Chocolate Cake Makes Me Run Faster.
So you may be wondering to yourselves why on earth running a mile in under 10 minutes is so important to me. Or why on earth it is all that impressive. Well, I'll tell you.
I knew I'd never be gazelle-like, even at an early age. My brother had always been the athletic one and I had always thanked the Lord for a somewhat above normal IQ so that I could compensate for the lack of athletic prowess. It only occasionally bothered me growing up. I had the determination, but not the ability.
One of those times was in 8th grade P.E. class. I was going to fail a course because I couldn't run. Being beyond chubby and lazy was sort of a hobby of mine at the time. The teacher, Mrs Eichholz (or however you spell her name) was going to take pity on me even though she alternated between being kind and being a pain in the ass. She said, "if you can run the mile in under ten minutes, I'll pass you." I was determined, I was focused, I was...winded. But I hurled my short stubby legs forward, determined not to fail. Please don't let me fail. ...well...I failed. I ran it in 10:03. ugh. I almost think it's worse sometimes when you are an "almost, but not quite." I feel like I get that a lot. "Good. But not quite good enough."
And it sticks with you. Amazing how stupid little moments like that can give a kid (and future adult) a complex. And I never really tried to run a mile again. Why bother? I knew I couldn't do it.
Well, it only took 16 years or so but today I ran it in 9:58.
So suck it, Mrs Eichholz.
Voice what you want, GET what you want.
Boom.
I knew I'd never be gazelle-like, even at an early age. My brother had always been the athletic one and I had always thanked the Lord for a somewhat above normal IQ so that I could compensate for the lack of athletic prowess. It only occasionally bothered me growing up. I had the determination, but not the ability.
One of those times was in 8th grade P.E. class. I was going to fail a course because I couldn't run. Being beyond chubby and lazy was sort of a hobby of mine at the time. The teacher, Mrs Eichholz (or however you spell her name) was going to take pity on me even though she alternated between being kind and being a pain in the ass. She said, "if you can run the mile in under ten minutes, I'll pass you." I was determined, I was focused, I was...winded. But I hurled my short stubby legs forward, determined not to fail. Please don't let me fail. ...well...I failed. I ran it in 10:03. ugh. I almost think it's worse sometimes when you are an "almost, but not quite." I feel like I get that a lot. "Good. But not quite good enough."
And it sticks with you. Amazing how stupid little moments like that can give a kid (and future adult) a complex. And I never really tried to run a mile again. Why bother? I knew I couldn't do it.
Well, it only took 16 years or so but today I ran it in 9:58.
So suck it, Mrs Eichholz.
Voice what you want, GET what you want.
Boom.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Efficiency is NOT your middle name.
Ok, so here's the bit about the last three days of term I promised.
Wednesday was fine. Not great, not bad, but fine. An agent came in to speak to us about what she looks for and all that but to be honest it wasn't all that useful since I'm going back to America. I will say though that had she been an American agent, I would have totally found a way to get signed by her. I liked her bluntness and she seemed to have a good handle on the balance between relationship with the client and the business end.
We were also supposed to have a mock audition with a different casting person but they had to cancel at the last minute. So we were sent an actor to workshop some of our monologues. He was very nice and had good instincts, but he didn't really do much with me. Some people worked theirs for 35minutes. I had about ten minutes and mostly he just said, "Good focus. I believed you. Think of a good moment before. You know what you're doing." Which was a bit of a bummer. I rarely get the opportunity to workshop my monologues. Mostly because I'm chickenshit and can't stand the thought of performing them before I've really worked as far as I personally can push them.
Thursday and Friday, we had our two day film/tv workshop. AKA A waste of my time. I don't know. I guess I just thought that at a master's level, we would have a higher calibur of teaching. I thought that we'd have advanced classes. I don't know enough about film but that's why I took a separate class in NY before I got here. And I truly believe that to get better at being on camera, you have to, in fact, BE on camera. At the end of the two days, there were even a couple of people who NEVER got to be on camera. I, myself, had about a minute of camera time where I "auditioned" for a crap commercial. The teachers also seemed more focused on showing us their reels and resumes and repeating the same information over and over, and then telling the most terrifying stories about failures. I know they meant well. But it was two of the most aggrivating days. I totally understand that there are a few people in the class who've never had any camera time ever, and that this was a good intro for them. But truthfully, there's a lot you can cover in 16 hours. And instead of "dipping a toe in the water" we could have waded up to our waist in experience. Alas, efficiency is NOT the RCS' middle name.
Thursday night was when I saw the one man show of Macbeth with Alan Cumming. I cannot tell you enough of how much I truly enjoyed it. Ok, yes, it took place in an asylum just like the Hamlet I saw in London. But this was an entirely different beast. Alan played all the parts, differentiating between characters by either simple props that were laying around the room, by use of mirrors, tv surveillance screens, and accents. It was schizophrenic, electric, and exhausting. One hour and forty-five minutes without intermission, this man maintained your attention. There were two other people who occasionally came in as doctors, but other than that, it was just him. And it was like there were two storylines going on at once. The Macbeth story he told, and also his reality of being a patient in the asylum. The lines would flip back and forth, mirrow each other, and intertwine. So so worth it.
And afterwards he came out to meet and greet. Apparently this is not commonplace here in the UK. As many of you know, after shows in the US, the stars often sign autographs as they leave the theatre. I find that it's so important to do so nowadays. It's part of the job. Because these people chose the theatre over any other kind of cheap entertainment. And also, they lived the experience with you. And because it means the WORLD to some who were moved by what you performed. So despite the exhausting show, he came out and took a photo with us, signed our programmes, and was even a bit cheeky with his comments. Leave it to the Scots to be beautifully charming and sharply sarcastic at the same time. They're really a fascinating lot.
So that pretty much covers it. Leaving for vacation in less than 48 hours and I cannot wait. Will write again in a couple weeks. Happy summer!
Wednesday was fine. Not great, not bad, but fine. An agent came in to speak to us about what she looks for and all that but to be honest it wasn't all that useful since I'm going back to America. I will say though that had she been an American agent, I would have totally found a way to get signed by her. I liked her bluntness and she seemed to have a good handle on the balance between relationship with the client and the business end.
We were also supposed to have a mock audition with a different casting person but they had to cancel at the last minute. So we were sent an actor to workshop some of our monologues. He was very nice and had good instincts, but he didn't really do much with me. Some people worked theirs for 35minutes. I had about ten minutes and mostly he just said, "Good focus. I believed you. Think of a good moment before. You know what you're doing." Which was a bit of a bummer. I rarely get the opportunity to workshop my monologues. Mostly because I'm chickenshit and can't stand the thought of performing them before I've really worked as far as I personally can push them.
Thursday and Friday, we had our two day film/tv workshop. AKA A waste of my time. I don't know. I guess I just thought that at a master's level, we would have a higher calibur of teaching. I thought that we'd have advanced classes. I don't know enough about film but that's why I took a separate class in NY before I got here. And I truly believe that to get better at being on camera, you have to, in fact, BE on camera. At the end of the two days, there were even a couple of people who NEVER got to be on camera. I, myself, had about a minute of camera time where I "auditioned" for a crap commercial. The teachers also seemed more focused on showing us their reels and resumes and repeating the same information over and over, and then telling the most terrifying stories about failures. I know they meant well. But it was two of the most aggrivating days. I totally understand that there are a few people in the class who've never had any camera time ever, and that this was a good intro for them. But truthfully, there's a lot you can cover in 16 hours. And instead of "dipping a toe in the water" we could have waded up to our waist in experience. Alas, efficiency is NOT the RCS' middle name.
Thursday night was when I saw the one man show of Macbeth with Alan Cumming. I cannot tell you enough of how much I truly enjoyed it. Ok, yes, it took place in an asylum just like the Hamlet I saw in London. But this was an entirely different beast. Alan played all the parts, differentiating between characters by either simple props that were laying around the room, by use of mirrors, tv surveillance screens, and accents. It was schizophrenic, electric, and exhausting. One hour and forty-five minutes without intermission, this man maintained your attention. There were two other people who occasionally came in as doctors, but other than that, it was just him. And it was like there were two storylines going on at once. The Macbeth story he told, and also his reality of being a patient in the asylum. The lines would flip back and forth, mirrow each other, and intertwine. So so worth it.
And afterwards he came out to meet and greet. Apparently this is not commonplace here in the UK. As many of you know, after shows in the US, the stars often sign autographs as they leave the theatre. I find that it's so important to do so nowadays. It's part of the job. Because these people chose the theatre over any other kind of cheap entertainment. And also, they lived the experience with you. And because it means the WORLD to some who were moved by what you performed. So despite the exhausting show, he came out and took a photo with us, signed our programmes, and was even a bit cheeky with his comments. Leave it to the Scots to be beautifully charming and sharply sarcastic at the same time. They're really a fascinating lot.
So that pretty much covers it. Leaving for vacation in less than 48 hours and I cannot wait. Will write again in a couple weeks. Happy summer!
Friday, June 15, 2012
Voicing What You Want.
My go-to contemporary monologue has the lines, "don't tell me what I want because I'LL tell YOU what I want. I want a home, and a family, AND a career too. And I want a dog and I want a cat and I want three goldfish, I want everything. and there's no harm in wanting it George, because there's not a chance in hell you're going to get it all anyway. but if you don't WANT it, you've got even less chance then that." -Jennie from Neil Simon's Chapter Two.
And that pretty much sums me up. Except for the whole cat thing. I'm allergic and they are the spawn of satan.
But truly, I've been a George and have spent most of my 20's avoiding wanting anything. Because if you don't want anything, you are never disappointed. No one can make fun of you for dreaming too big or too little. No one can tell you that you can't have whatever IT is. But if I had looked closer, I'd realise that I was the one who actually told myself NO. What's worse, I told myself NO before ever figuring out what I was asking for. So lately, I've tried to become a Jennie.
A few months ago I started a journal of "I wants." No matter how big or ridiculous, I'd write it down. I'd seriously consider it, "Do I really want it? Or is it just a whim?" and then without judgement, I'd put ink to paper.
Sometimes I'd sit there for hours and not think of a single thing that I'd want. And sometimes I couldn't fall asleep because I'd think of something new that I'd want every five minutes. I made lists. Categories. Which won't surprise many of you seeing as even my wildest wishes are organized into their proper place. You can broaden a girl's horizons, but the base will always be the same.
Anyway, now I have the wants. And some embarrass me, some make me think I'm crazy. Some make me think there are not enough years in a lifetime to do it all. Some make me think there is not enough money either. But it's about being honest with yourself. It's about voicing what you want. And I'll take it one step further. It may bore some of you so feel free to just skip over it, but I'm going to list some of my "wants." Because it's one thing to hide it in a journal, but it's another thing entirely to put it out there. It sort of makes me accountable. It blows any embarrassment or shame out of the water. And knowing my pride and supreme attitude problem, once I put it out there, I'd be more inclined to go after it. I'm not one to make a statement and then let people see me give up. If I allow myself to hide, I'll never do anything with my life. And, like Jennie said, there's no harm in wanting it. So here we go:
I WANT TO LEARN TO:
fence, really ride a horse (preferably on the beach), play the cello, play the acoustic guitar, to garden, to cook like my dad, to meditate, to make a really good caramel macchiato, be certified in armed and unarmed stage combat, to network without feeling shady, to not feel bad for who I am, to change a tire, to change the oil in a car, to master a stick shift, to shoot a gun, and archery.
I WANT TO TRAVEL TO:
A road trip of the South- San Antonio, Galveston, Austin, Houston, Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans, Savannah.
Ashland, OR
North Pole- to see the midnight sun or the four hour day.
Antarctica- (only because I want to be able to say I've been to all the continents)
Morocco
South Africa
Greece
Paris- and do it right this time (includes Versailles and the Monet gardens)
Venice, Rome
Iceland
Rio De Janeiro- during Carnivale
Galapagos Islands- to see the ginormous turtles
Stonehenge
Marseilles Nice, France
Monaco (again)
Denver, CO
Prague, Czech Republic
China- because I feel like I should
Prince Edward Island- because I watched Anne of Green Gables one too many times.
San Juan Islands, WA
WHEN I BUILD A HOME IT WILL HAVE:
a small garden, french doors, baronian scots architecture or colonial, a balcony, a pool, built in bookshelves, window seat for reading, lots of natural light, a porch swing, trees, a stone gate, situated by a river or the sea, stained glass, hardwood floors, privacy, a REALLY comfy big bed, a real fire place, a chandelier in the dining room (it doesn't have to be big but it has to sparkle), a library and music room with a baby grand piano, old architecture with modern appliances. and my own private bathroom with a deep clawedfoot tub.
Believe me, people, the ridiculousness is just beginning...
BIG DREAMS:
to have two dogs named "Squeegie" and "Tomorrow." Audrey Hepburn once had a cat named Tomorrow and whenever she had a bad day she'd hug it and say, "Everything will be alright Tomorrow." Always loved that.
To have a little boy and girl named Bennett and Vivien. (Maybe one is adopted)
To work in NYC, LA, and London.
To be AEA and SAG union
To be able to pay the bills by only being an actor
To be a lead in a feature film
To be married. Once. And have it last.
To not have money be my number one worry
To have a house in WA
ROLES I WANT TO PLAY:
Kate- Taming of the Shrew
Beatrice- Much Ado About Nothing
Vivien Leigh and/or Elizabeth Taylor- in her biography
Diane- Next to Normal
Tamora- Titus Andronicus
Titania- Midsummer Night's Dream
Iago- Othello (yeah you heard me)
Diane- Little Dog Laughed
Cathy- Last Five Years
Jennie- Chapter Two
Duchess- Duchess of Malfi
Queen Margaret- Henry VI 1-3
Candice- Good in Bed
Any Heroine from a Nora Roberts Book. (ha. i'm laughing at myself for that one.)
THE CAREER I REALLY WANT:
to have a good agent
to never have to do an open call again
to teach college
to publish a book or play
to direct a play
to be tri-coastal
to be on Broadway
to get over my fear of singing
to work in tv, film, and theatre
to be a union member
to voice a disney character
to be respected
to have a lounge act
to do good work for a charity I believe in
to have health insurance
to go to the Cannes Film Festival
BUCKET LIST: random things to do or have before I die
Go sailing on an old sailboat
run a mile in under ten minutes
be a size 8/10
read the Bible cover to cover
be a guest at the Academy Awards
swim with dolphins
fresh flowers every week
massages
mani/pedis
quiet
time to myself
travel
books
gym membership
I have to admit, those are only about half of the lists. I wrote lists about Books to read before I die, Movies to see, what kind of man I hope to end up with (inquiring minds want to know I'm sure but you'll just have to ask me privately for that one, and I may or may not tell you), how I want to better myself, etc. And I'm going to keep adding to them until I'm completely empty of wants.
It's scary as shit, stating what you want. Letting hope leak in through the cracks. But I recommend it. When was the last time you asked yourself what you want? When was the last time you said it outloud? Try it. Start small. Start in the present. And then go from there. People get what they want all the time. Why not you? But you have to admit it to yourself first. Then you work on how to get it. At least, that's MY plan.
I'll probably write one more blog by the end of the weekend. That way I can cover the last couple of days of class and also the one man show of Macbeth I saw last night. Then I can get on that plan to Malta and really enjoy a good vacation with nothing on my mind other than flipping over when I've had too much sun on one side. It's been a very long term and I want to just disappear for a bit and recharge. So stay tuned for one more entry before freedom.
Thinking of you x
And that pretty much sums me up. Except for the whole cat thing. I'm allergic and they are the spawn of satan.
But truly, I've been a George and have spent most of my 20's avoiding wanting anything. Because if you don't want anything, you are never disappointed. No one can make fun of you for dreaming too big or too little. No one can tell you that you can't have whatever IT is. But if I had looked closer, I'd realise that I was the one who actually told myself NO. What's worse, I told myself NO before ever figuring out what I was asking for. So lately, I've tried to become a Jennie.
A few months ago I started a journal of "I wants." No matter how big or ridiculous, I'd write it down. I'd seriously consider it, "Do I really want it? Or is it just a whim?" and then without judgement, I'd put ink to paper.
Sometimes I'd sit there for hours and not think of a single thing that I'd want. And sometimes I couldn't fall asleep because I'd think of something new that I'd want every five minutes. I made lists. Categories. Which won't surprise many of you seeing as even my wildest wishes are organized into their proper place. You can broaden a girl's horizons, but the base will always be the same.
Anyway, now I have the wants. And some embarrass me, some make me think I'm crazy. Some make me think there are not enough years in a lifetime to do it all. Some make me think there is not enough money either. But it's about being honest with yourself. It's about voicing what you want. And I'll take it one step further. It may bore some of you so feel free to just skip over it, but I'm going to list some of my "wants." Because it's one thing to hide it in a journal, but it's another thing entirely to put it out there. It sort of makes me accountable. It blows any embarrassment or shame out of the water. And knowing my pride and supreme attitude problem, once I put it out there, I'd be more inclined to go after it. I'm not one to make a statement and then let people see me give up. If I allow myself to hide, I'll never do anything with my life. And, like Jennie said, there's no harm in wanting it. So here we go:
I WANT TO LEARN TO:
fence, really ride a horse (preferably on the beach), play the cello, play the acoustic guitar, to garden, to cook like my dad, to meditate, to make a really good caramel macchiato, be certified in armed and unarmed stage combat, to network without feeling shady, to not feel bad for who I am, to change a tire, to change the oil in a car, to master a stick shift, to shoot a gun, and archery.
I WANT TO TRAVEL TO:
A road trip of the South- San Antonio, Galveston, Austin, Houston, Memphis, Nashville, New Orleans, Savannah.
Ashland, OR
North Pole- to see the midnight sun or the four hour day.
Antarctica- (only because I want to be able to say I've been to all the continents)
Morocco
South Africa
Greece
Paris- and do it right this time (includes Versailles and the Monet gardens)
Venice, Rome
Iceland
Rio De Janeiro- during Carnivale
Galapagos Islands- to see the ginormous turtles
Stonehenge
Marseilles Nice, France
Monaco (again)
Denver, CO
Prague, Czech Republic
China- because I feel like I should
Prince Edward Island- because I watched Anne of Green Gables one too many times.
San Juan Islands, WA
WHEN I BUILD A HOME IT WILL HAVE:
a small garden, french doors, baronian scots architecture or colonial, a balcony, a pool, built in bookshelves, window seat for reading, lots of natural light, a porch swing, trees, a stone gate, situated by a river or the sea, stained glass, hardwood floors, privacy, a REALLY comfy big bed, a real fire place, a chandelier in the dining room (it doesn't have to be big but it has to sparkle), a library and music room with a baby grand piano, old architecture with modern appliances. and my own private bathroom with a deep clawedfoot tub.
Believe me, people, the ridiculousness is just beginning...
BIG DREAMS:
to have two dogs named "Squeegie" and "Tomorrow." Audrey Hepburn once had a cat named Tomorrow and whenever she had a bad day she'd hug it and say, "Everything will be alright Tomorrow." Always loved that.
To have a little boy and girl named Bennett and Vivien. (Maybe one is adopted)
To work in NYC, LA, and London.
To be AEA and SAG union
To be able to pay the bills by only being an actor
To be a lead in a feature film
To be married. Once. And have it last.
To not have money be my number one worry
To have a house in WA
ROLES I WANT TO PLAY:
Kate- Taming of the Shrew
Beatrice- Much Ado About Nothing
Vivien Leigh and/or Elizabeth Taylor- in her biography
Diane- Next to Normal
Tamora- Titus Andronicus
Titania- Midsummer Night's Dream
Iago- Othello (yeah you heard me)
Diane- Little Dog Laughed
Cathy- Last Five Years
Jennie- Chapter Two
Duchess- Duchess of Malfi
Queen Margaret- Henry VI 1-3
Candice- Good in Bed
Any Heroine from a Nora Roberts Book. (ha. i'm laughing at myself for that one.)
THE CAREER I REALLY WANT:
to have a good agent
to never have to do an open call again
to teach college
to publish a book or play
to direct a play
to be tri-coastal
to be on Broadway
to get over my fear of singing
to work in tv, film, and theatre
to be a union member
to voice a disney character
to be respected
to have a lounge act
to do good work for a charity I believe in
to have health insurance
to go to the Cannes Film Festival
BUCKET LIST: random things to do or have before I die
Go sailing on an old sailboat
run a mile in under ten minutes
be a size 8/10
read the Bible cover to cover
be a guest at the Academy Awards
swim with dolphins
fresh flowers every week
massages
mani/pedis
quiet
time to myself
travel
books
gym membership
I have to admit, those are only about half of the lists. I wrote lists about Books to read before I die, Movies to see, what kind of man I hope to end up with (inquiring minds want to know I'm sure but you'll just have to ask me privately for that one, and I may or may not tell you), how I want to better myself, etc. And I'm going to keep adding to them until I'm completely empty of wants.
It's scary as shit, stating what you want. Letting hope leak in through the cracks. But I recommend it. When was the last time you asked yourself what you want? When was the last time you said it outloud? Try it. Start small. Start in the present. And then go from there. People get what they want all the time. Why not you? But you have to admit it to yourself first. Then you work on how to get it. At least, that's MY plan.
I'll probably write one more blog by the end of the weekend. That way I can cover the last couple of days of class and also the one man show of Macbeth I saw last night. Then I can get on that plan to Malta and really enjoy a good vacation with nothing on my mind other than flipping over when I've had too much sun on one side. It's been a very long term and I want to just disappear for a bit and recharge. So stay tuned for one more entry before freedom.
Thinking of you x
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Extinguishing the Angerball.
I have forgotten how much I really enjoy sitting down at the piano and fumbling my way through songs. It's one of those autopilot things where you can just turn off your brain to everything other than the little notes on the paper. Maybe because it takes all my concentration to have my brain tell my fingers where to go. My kindergarten teacher always said that I didn't have very good hand-eye coordination. wait...maybe she said I just had a short attention span... oh I don't remember. Either way, I checked out some music from the library and have been using the holes in my schedule to plunk out some new tunes. I always feel clearer afterwards. The dream would be to one day have a music room in a home of my own. Maybe (hell let's dream real big) a baby grand and the room would have lots of windows.
I also have forgotten how hard/fun ballet is. Yesterday I taught some basic ballet to a few girls in my class. For a little over an hour we leaped and plieed around to music that I prepared and had a bit of a giggle. I've missed feeling graceful and structured like this. Ballet, for the most part, was something that just made sense to me. It helps with core strength and posture, breath, and building muscle without bulking up. It just changes how you carry yourself. But holybuhjeebus. I'ma achin' today.
This last Saturday we had our End of Term Brinner. I'm so glad we started it. There is nothing more comforting than breakfast food. It solves sadness, stress, hangovers, future hangovers, and homesickness. It always has such a familial feel to it and that combined with the release from term and the warmth of Angie's place, it was a good end to the week.
I spent Sunday doing mostly nothing other than catching up on my life (i.e. laundry, vacuum, family skyping). And then Monday was the beginning of Useless Week. As in, -why do we bother having it let's just go on vacation now- week. First some of us had a meeting at Glasgow University to meet with some student playwrights and directors for a project that we are supposed to do with them in July. We trekked over in crap weather only to find that they were fairly disorganized and that the project (in which we believed would last a full week) would only comprise of one four hour rehearsal and then a short dress rehearsal before a staged reading of it. ...right...and what exactly am i supposed to do with the other 32 hours of my week? Listen. I don't regret coming here. At all. It is the best decision I have ever made. But that being said, this programme has some serious holes in it. You cannot have a year long programme and then give this much time off. It is supposed to be jam packed almost everyday. It needs to be. Because when I'm back into the swing of things, I don't ever want to have to say to a casting director or producer that I can't do something. Especially when I've got the time and resources to do it. I've paid for these resources. So these administrators had best be stepping up. It often feels like they are scrambling to throw speakers in to fill empty time.
Case in point, today. Very lovely girl. She graduated from the course the first year it was in effect. She's from the UK and has done some nice work here and there on theatre and some tv (Downton Abbey) but since over half of the students in our class are Americans that will be deported after graduation, all the advice she had to give concerning working in the UK was not useful to us. Also, it seems to me she was one of the lucky ones. She has an amazing agent and her survival job is being a musician. I'm happy for her, it's great to see someone doing well. But not everyone can play in a band and live off it. In fact, the majority of actors will struggle for much longer than two or three years before they even get an agent of that calibur to come see something they're in, let alone sign with them. And though it's nice to meet new people, you cannot plot out your life or career based on someone else. Just because someone else found their way through this/that/and the other, doesn't mean that it will work out that way for you. The best thing you can do? Show up, be prepared, and present yourself as how you want to be seen. You can't control anything that other people do or say or feel. But you can do right by yourself, you can have your box of acting tools ready for when those lucky opportunities come. If you show up, eventually one (at least one) will. And as long as I believe that and as long as I can live with myself, I'll keep showing up.
One good thing to come from today is that I had my tutorial with the head of my programme finally. I dreaded it. I did not think there was any way it was going to go well. And I did not want to relive any of the Malfi stuff. But I said what I had to say and he listened. And what's more, he reassured me in many ways. And he also said that it speaks highly of my cohort members and myself that with all that we were dealing with, that we kept ourselves together, put on a great show, and didn't come crying at his door. He respected us for trying to push through, keep professional and handle it ourselves. I'm glad I said something. Because for some reason, it makes it feel less like we were abused children and more like equals. Because we are. And I feel like I don't have that beast of an angerball in my chest anymore. There are still many things that get me going about the hodge podge that is this programme but those are just ash and soot in comparison.
Besides, in one week...I'll be flying to Malta. Good things, people. Good things.
I also have forgotten how hard/fun ballet is. Yesterday I taught some basic ballet to a few girls in my class. For a little over an hour we leaped and plieed around to music that I prepared and had a bit of a giggle. I've missed feeling graceful and structured like this. Ballet, for the most part, was something that just made sense to me. It helps with core strength and posture, breath, and building muscle without bulking up. It just changes how you carry yourself. But holybuhjeebus. I'ma achin' today.
This last Saturday we had our End of Term Brinner. I'm so glad we started it. There is nothing more comforting than breakfast food. It solves sadness, stress, hangovers, future hangovers, and homesickness. It always has such a familial feel to it and that combined with the release from term and the warmth of Angie's place, it was a good end to the week.
I spent Sunday doing mostly nothing other than catching up on my life (i.e. laundry, vacuum, family skyping). And then Monday was the beginning of Useless Week. As in, -why do we bother having it let's just go on vacation now- week. First some of us had a meeting at Glasgow University to meet with some student playwrights and directors for a project that we are supposed to do with them in July. We trekked over in crap weather only to find that they were fairly disorganized and that the project (in which we believed would last a full week) would only comprise of one four hour rehearsal and then a short dress rehearsal before a staged reading of it. ...right...and what exactly am i supposed to do with the other 32 hours of my week? Listen. I don't regret coming here. At all. It is the best decision I have ever made. But that being said, this programme has some serious holes in it. You cannot have a year long programme and then give this much time off. It is supposed to be jam packed almost everyday. It needs to be. Because when I'm back into the swing of things, I don't ever want to have to say to a casting director or producer that I can't do something. Especially when I've got the time and resources to do it. I've paid for these resources. So these administrators had best be stepping up. It often feels like they are scrambling to throw speakers in to fill empty time.
Case in point, today. Very lovely girl. She graduated from the course the first year it was in effect. She's from the UK and has done some nice work here and there on theatre and some tv (Downton Abbey) but since over half of the students in our class are Americans that will be deported after graduation, all the advice she had to give concerning working in the UK was not useful to us. Also, it seems to me she was one of the lucky ones. She has an amazing agent and her survival job is being a musician. I'm happy for her, it's great to see someone doing well. But not everyone can play in a band and live off it. In fact, the majority of actors will struggle for much longer than two or three years before they even get an agent of that calibur to come see something they're in, let alone sign with them. And though it's nice to meet new people, you cannot plot out your life or career based on someone else. Just because someone else found their way through this/that/and the other, doesn't mean that it will work out that way for you. The best thing you can do? Show up, be prepared, and present yourself as how you want to be seen. You can't control anything that other people do or say or feel. But you can do right by yourself, you can have your box of acting tools ready for when those lucky opportunities come. If you show up, eventually one (at least one) will. And as long as I believe that and as long as I can live with myself, I'll keep showing up.
One good thing to come from today is that I had my tutorial with the head of my programme finally. I dreaded it. I did not think there was any way it was going to go well. And I did not want to relive any of the Malfi stuff. But I said what I had to say and he listened. And what's more, he reassured me in many ways. And he also said that it speaks highly of my cohort members and myself that with all that we were dealing with, that we kept ourselves together, put on a great show, and didn't come crying at his door. He respected us for trying to push through, keep professional and handle it ourselves. I'm glad I said something. Because for some reason, it makes it feel less like we were abused children and more like equals. Because we are. And I feel like I don't have that beast of an angerball in my chest anymore. There are still many things that get me going about the hodge podge that is this programme but those are just ash and soot in comparison.
Besides, in one week...I'll be flying to Malta. Good things, people. Good things.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
I'd Still Rather Be Me.
Oops. I blinked and it's been over a week since I've last bothered to write. And now it's the second week of June. And the end of term 3 of my Masters. I don't understand how that happened. How can you feel like you've been in a place for forever but at the same time feeling like you've just arrived? One minute I'm screaming "Slow Down, Time!" and the next I'm counting the seconds until a day is over. I can't seem to find a balance.
Last Sunday I ran my first 5k run. This one was for cancer research and I never thought I'd ever enter anything like it, especially with the goal of actually RUNNING the sucker. And I managed to run around 4.5 of it and jogged or sped walked the rest. And I also managed to cut almost another two minutes off my time. It felt really good, despite the epically cold morning. I've always had a phobia of running and told myself that it was something that I just would never do. Growing up with P.E. teachers who gave up on me and the looks of pity from other more fit classmates, I just wrote it off as one of those things that just wasn't going to happen for me. And it just feels good to finish something.
This last week had been final rehearsals for On the Verge (our last performance was tonight). It's been a blur. Last minute changes threw me off a bit but it ended up turning the half impro/half scripted piece into a pretty good success. It was clear that many of our cohort had begun to reach their limit of exhaustion. We have been going non stop since the beginning of April and you could see the determined faces of some as they begged their minds and bodies to hold on just until this Friday.
I have been no exception. Emotionally I am still bouncing all over the place. Today being the roughest of days. I no longer ask myself for specifics. I just identify whether it's a good or bad day and then ride the wave the best I can. Compartmentalize the issues so that you can do your job and if at all possible, use whatever weakness you have for the part you are playing. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. If you can't get rid of it, use it. If you need a cry and a scream, work it in, or wait till after the show. And always remind yourself that emotions are part of the job. You will only suck at the job if you stifle the feelings. Also, that everything turns out ok in the end. If it isn't ok, it isn't the end.
But I'm exhausted. And I am counting down the days till Malta (10 days). Thank God it's already paid for.
I think it also doesn't help that I check my bank account...insert death march here. oof. Money is the rain on all parades. It is the poo that you step in when wearing your best shoes. It is the theatre critic who falls asleep at your debut. Money is the evil, the anxiety that puts a damper on all parties. But it is a fact. It is very real. And it is necessary. But ew. Just ew.
Anyway, back to On the Verge.
I am beyond proud of the work we put on. I saw almost all of the pieces my fellow mates (apologies to NB for missing your piece) put on and it was entertaining, quality, and exemplary. I saw many people in a new light as they stretched themselves in genres and projects that no one ever gave them a chance to perform in before.
One piece called "The Hollow" was a devised piece based off of a T.S. Eliot poem. A work in progress, it was designed in such a way that had layers of meaning through simplistic gestures. Visually beautiful and a nice stretch for the actors involved.
Another piece called "You Cannot Call it Love" was a mix of Hamlet and Barker. It was immersive as the four actors weaved themselves in and out of the audience who were sat on single chairs spread out along the stage. Beautiful staging and solid performances by AL, JS, MAR, and MM. MM had just the right amount of steel and cray cray. MAR had grotesque-ism down to an art. AL's Ophelia was like none I'd seen before and she had a manic vibe and desperation that totally worked. And JS, whom has never disappointed me in a performance, was completely "en pointe", charming, entertaining, and convincing.
"Love Songs" was a huge leap for KT, I thought. A piece that was 30 minutes of movement based story telling through a playlist. It was like a live music video. It wasn't dance. It was a relationship through body language.
"Taboo" was an improv show that pushed the boundaries of social acceptance. I admire these guys because it takes balls to do improv as well as use taboo subjects for your base. I am especially proud of AK and SM who I know were very new to this type of work and were exceptionally funny and quick.
And finally "Mr and Mrs Laughton". It was the last show I saw in the festival and it was by far the one that stuck in my mind. I am So very proud of MAR. He wrote/put it together and acted in it and I knew that it was a project that was very close to his heart. There were times that he was tempted to abandon the project but I can't tell you how glad I am that he stuck with it. It was funny, heart breaking, clever, and I wished it was full length. He was at his very best. If there was ever a role to showcase what MAR can do, I thought it was this one. He is unpredictable and forceful and fragile. And it was worth the price of admission and more. Good. On. You, sir.
As for ours, "A Million Hearts in Stereo" went very very well. The first night being the absolute best and ideal. Forty five people came and we put on a crap wedding party interspersed with monologues and impro. The atmosphere was electric and everything just clicked. It was a total high in that it really felt like a real wedding reception. The people were receptive, they played along, and it was full enough not to make anyone feel too singled out or uncomfortable. It also made our job so much easier in that we did not have to feel the pressure of filling the space on our own. (The bar and alcohol supply didn't hurt either). For the most part, we received hugely positive reviews and I felt it was a great success.
Then there was tonight's performance....
yeah...
well...
what can ya do?
Since my research paper is based on building atmosphere, I'd say this second night was a huge lesson in what works and what doesn't. Our audience size was about ten. Ten people in a room that could hold easily over 100. AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! It's ok to giggle. It was almost comical when it wasn't painful. But there you go. Some atmospheres are based on the number of people but some are based on the moods of those people as well. And both were not in our favor that evening. It felt, a lot of the time, that we were fighting against the private atmospheres that the "audience" brought in. The show still went fine. But it was a completely different show. Because half of the piece is improvised, we had to work twice as hard and talk twice as long to the same people. We had to acknowledge that the empty space was there and then just go with it. It was fine. And had we not had such an awesome opening, we probably wouldn't have felt how brutal it was. But there it is. We were still entertaining. But it's a bummer that we had to end on that note.
So that's pretty much the end of term 3. Sure there's one week left of meetings, tutorials, seminars, a mock audition, and a two day film/tv workshop, but truthfully...I'm pretty much checked out. And I'm pretty much freaked out that time -that saucy minx- is running out. There are still places I want to see. there are still some people I wish I knew better. Some I wish They knew ME better. ...some I wish I saw less of. And then a select few that are closest, where I feel like I will lose a limb when I don't get to see them everyday. Real life is coming, people. And I'm not thrilled at the thought. But for now, it's baby steps. Sleep. Eat. Theatre.
Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm having a hard time. And ok, I am. But I gotta tell ya, I'd still rather be me than anyone else. I'd still rather do theatre and film and never have a "normal" day. I'd still rather own a little, but experience a lot. I'd still rather be me.
Last Sunday I ran my first 5k run. This one was for cancer research and I never thought I'd ever enter anything like it, especially with the goal of actually RUNNING the sucker. And I managed to run around 4.5 of it and jogged or sped walked the rest. And I also managed to cut almost another two minutes off my time. It felt really good, despite the epically cold morning. I've always had a phobia of running and told myself that it was something that I just would never do. Growing up with P.E. teachers who gave up on me and the looks of pity from other more fit classmates, I just wrote it off as one of those things that just wasn't going to happen for me. And it just feels good to finish something.
This last week had been final rehearsals for On the Verge (our last performance was tonight). It's been a blur. Last minute changes threw me off a bit but it ended up turning the half impro/half scripted piece into a pretty good success. It was clear that many of our cohort had begun to reach their limit of exhaustion. We have been going non stop since the beginning of April and you could see the determined faces of some as they begged their minds and bodies to hold on just until this Friday.
I have been no exception. Emotionally I am still bouncing all over the place. Today being the roughest of days. I no longer ask myself for specifics. I just identify whether it's a good or bad day and then ride the wave the best I can. Compartmentalize the issues so that you can do your job and if at all possible, use whatever weakness you have for the part you are playing. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. If you can't get rid of it, use it. If you need a cry and a scream, work it in, or wait till after the show. And always remind yourself that emotions are part of the job. You will only suck at the job if you stifle the feelings. Also, that everything turns out ok in the end. If it isn't ok, it isn't the end.
But I'm exhausted. And I am counting down the days till Malta (10 days). Thank God it's already paid for.
I think it also doesn't help that I check my bank account...insert death march here. oof. Money is the rain on all parades. It is the poo that you step in when wearing your best shoes. It is the theatre critic who falls asleep at your debut. Money is the evil, the anxiety that puts a damper on all parties. But it is a fact. It is very real. And it is necessary. But ew. Just ew.
Anyway, back to On the Verge.
I am beyond proud of the work we put on. I saw almost all of the pieces my fellow mates (apologies to NB for missing your piece) put on and it was entertaining, quality, and exemplary. I saw many people in a new light as they stretched themselves in genres and projects that no one ever gave them a chance to perform in before.
One piece called "The Hollow" was a devised piece based off of a T.S. Eliot poem. A work in progress, it was designed in such a way that had layers of meaning through simplistic gestures. Visually beautiful and a nice stretch for the actors involved.
Another piece called "You Cannot Call it Love" was a mix of Hamlet and Barker. It was immersive as the four actors weaved themselves in and out of the audience who were sat on single chairs spread out along the stage. Beautiful staging and solid performances by AL, JS, MAR, and MM. MM had just the right amount of steel and cray cray. MAR had grotesque-ism down to an art. AL's Ophelia was like none I'd seen before and she had a manic vibe and desperation that totally worked. And JS, whom has never disappointed me in a performance, was completely "en pointe", charming, entertaining, and convincing.
"Love Songs" was a huge leap for KT, I thought. A piece that was 30 minutes of movement based story telling through a playlist. It was like a live music video. It wasn't dance. It was a relationship through body language.
"Taboo" was an improv show that pushed the boundaries of social acceptance. I admire these guys because it takes balls to do improv as well as use taboo subjects for your base. I am especially proud of AK and SM who I know were very new to this type of work and were exceptionally funny and quick.
And finally "Mr and Mrs Laughton". It was the last show I saw in the festival and it was by far the one that stuck in my mind. I am So very proud of MAR. He wrote/put it together and acted in it and I knew that it was a project that was very close to his heart. There were times that he was tempted to abandon the project but I can't tell you how glad I am that he stuck with it. It was funny, heart breaking, clever, and I wished it was full length. He was at his very best. If there was ever a role to showcase what MAR can do, I thought it was this one. He is unpredictable and forceful and fragile. And it was worth the price of admission and more. Good. On. You, sir.
As for ours, "A Million Hearts in Stereo" went very very well. The first night being the absolute best and ideal. Forty five people came and we put on a crap wedding party interspersed with monologues and impro. The atmosphere was electric and everything just clicked. It was a total high in that it really felt like a real wedding reception. The people were receptive, they played along, and it was full enough not to make anyone feel too singled out or uncomfortable. It also made our job so much easier in that we did not have to feel the pressure of filling the space on our own. (The bar and alcohol supply didn't hurt either). For the most part, we received hugely positive reviews and I felt it was a great success.
Then there was tonight's performance....
yeah...
well...
what can ya do?
Since my research paper is based on building atmosphere, I'd say this second night was a huge lesson in what works and what doesn't. Our audience size was about ten. Ten people in a room that could hold easily over 100. AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! It's ok to giggle. It was almost comical when it wasn't painful. But there you go. Some atmospheres are based on the number of people but some are based on the moods of those people as well. And both were not in our favor that evening. It felt, a lot of the time, that we were fighting against the private atmospheres that the "audience" brought in. The show still went fine. But it was a completely different show. Because half of the piece is improvised, we had to work twice as hard and talk twice as long to the same people. We had to acknowledge that the empty space was there and then just go with it. It was fine. And had we not had such an awesome opening, we probably wouldn't have felt how brutal it was. But there it is. We were still entertaining. But it's a bummer that we had to end on that note.
So that's pretty much the end of term 3. Sure there's one week left of meetings, tutorials, seminars, a mock audition, and a two day film/tv workshop, but truthfully...I'm pretty much checked out. And I'm pretty much freaked out that time -that saucy minx- is running out. There are still places I want to see. there are still some people I wish I knew better. Some I wish They knew ME better. ...some I wish I saw less of. And then a select few that are closest, where I feel like I will lose a limb when I don't get to see them everyday. Real life is coming, people. And I'm not thrilled at the thought. But for now, it's baby steps. Sleep. Eat. Theatre.
Honestly, I know it sounds like I'm having a hard time. And ok, I am. But I gotta tell ya, I'd still rather be me than anyone else. I'd still rather do theatre and film and never have a "normal" day. I'd still rather own a little, but experience a lot. I'd still rather be me.
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