Identity

So, first night of the play last night. I think it went well, we heard some positive stuff, which was nice. Very difficult to know when you don't spend that much time actually onstage, but the bits I was on for seemed alright.

Finally, to return to my much delayed blog from Wednesday, I am sick of being mistaken, misspelt, mispronounced and misunderstood. I understand, on the phone why someone may get my name wrong as I speak quickly and the sibilance of the end part of my name does run into the word "speaking" so that it often disappears. I do not understand email and letter confusion. It is written down. How, in any way, can people be so dense that they just don't double-check something before they reply? Somehow, they just seem to assume that I've got it wrong.

Similarly, I have a problem with being mistaken for somebody else. This happens a lot as Big Sis and I are similar-looking and for some people this constitutes us being the same person. Every time this happens I go and rant at Big Sis because I don't understand! We have similar faces, similar mannerisms and similar body shapes but there are enough differences to stop us from being the same. I choose to be ginger, she chooses to be blond. I'm three inches taller. I have a much longer face and goofy teeth. She has a smile like a normal person. Part of the problem is that Big Sis has a public role in her job and a number of people around where she works know her. They then see me, not knowing she has a sister, think I'm her, smile and say hello in a friendly way. As I don't know them, I'm not quick enough to twig and will give them a variety of responses a) confused smile, b) confused frown, c) blank face and, on a bad day, d) glare. I worry about this. It concerns me that I reflect badly on my pleasant and personable sister and makes me feel not so much a person in my own right but merely the bad side of her personality.

Of course, it's worse when the person in question does know both of us and still gets us mixed up. Surface differences are all well and good and I do get mistaken for any number of tall red-headed girls my age with glasses, not just for Big Sis. This just confirms my suspicion that people are basically stupid. But after talking to us both a certain amount and seeing us fairly often, I do get insulted when we're mistaken. Our personalities are markedly different and this, in itself, should overcome any superficial similarities of appearance.

I think where my real problem in being referred to by the wrong name or as the wrong person is that it makes me feel diminished. Every time, I feel like my uniqueness and my identity are being eroded. I moved churches aged about 14 because I found somewhere where I wasn't referred to constantly as someone's granddaughter, daughter or sister and wanted to be known in my own right. The main problem being that Granny was in the Guild, Dad was a steward, Mum ran Sunday School and Big Sis did the creche. There was no niche for me so no-one, except my friend FernBoy, knew who I was unless it was in relation to my relations. I didn't really start socialising at the Bench until I got cast in a few things because I didn't want the same thing to happen.

I don't know why I need to have such a fervent ownership of those things that make up who I believe my self to be like my name and appearance. It probably says something about my self perception that I have to have some grip on these relatively unimportant things to know who I am. This extends, unfortunately, to other elements of my life. Once I have got really close to people, I find it difficult when they are close to other people. I need people to tell me that they like me, especially MuleBoy. I remember getting freaked out when I was younger because I realised that other people could sing better than me because this meant that I did not own that talent. It is a constant effort not to touch things and people and aspects of my personality and scream "mine". It is an effort not to show how upset I can get by things that other people don't even notice. My Dad wrote a thank you letter to a family member for a birthday gift and told them what had happened on his birthday. He wrote that Mum cooked the meal, Big Sis baked a cake and Kitten poured the wine. For a start, the wine thing is a very minimal contribution and what was worse, I didn't even pour the wine. I was an afterthought and a slightly grasping conclusion to make a neat sentence. I can still remember how gutted I felt that I was so marginal. I reminded Dad that I had, in fact, written him a poem that had taken me a good deal of head scratching to get right so he wrote an addendum to the sentence that went "and wrote a poem". Now I felt marginalised, my achievement negligible and I had corrupted a nicely paced sentence with my melodramatic response. One of the most striking things about it is that I remember it so clearly now.

What I would like to know is what this says about me, other than deranged. Is this a sign of being spoilt, as my Granny told me and my parents repeatedly as I was growing up? Or is it a sign that I didn't have anything I considered truly mine growing up because everything I did, Big Sis did first or did with me? This would explain my scary need to have friends that are mine because this was one of the many things that we had to be fair about. We still have a number of mutual friends and it is still something that I struggle with. I don't go so far as when I was a teenager and questioned friends about who they liked best and why when Big Sis wasn't there, feeling cheated when they didn't immediately and fervently say that it was me.

Basically, I don't understand how identical twins cope. I love Big Sis to bits and don't resent her for this. I just have to suppress a lot of instincts when dealing with situations and spend a lot of my time angling for praise and reassurances of my place in the world and my position with other people. A lot of this blog is almost making excuses for myself and explaining certain personality quirks. I guess that's not what I intended. I don't want to make excuses for myself but I want to make myself clear. This is me. It's not pretty, it's not rational and I probably am crazy in a lot of ways. I do know that other people have crazy personality quirks and flaws like me and I don't consider myself to be special in this way. But I do like to articulate these quirks because it helps me not over-obsess about things. I've been obsessing about something that happened last week and trying to work out why I felt emotionally bruised by something extremely insignificant. So this is the outpouring of a week of obsession. Sorry.

Mean!

Talking about fist shaking. I was fully intending to kick someone who was rude to a colleague yesterday. Here is a transcript of their conversation, see whether you think it deserves a kicking:

Rude Man: Where are your catering facilities?
Colleague: What do you mean...(intending to ask whether he meant our humble canteen or the official University caterers based in another building)
RM: What part of 'catering facilities' do you not understand?

Colleague pointed him to our canteen, which he dashed to and then dashed from and outside. I saw him out the window and shook my fist. Later on, I saw him again and stared at him in an angry way. I don't like unnecessarily rude people.

This isn't even the thing that I was thinking about posting when I mentioned that I was thinking about posting. This is something else entirely that sprung to mind as a result of the bracketed fist shaking that I perpetrated towards my Pa, almost as proof that fist-shaking does occur in the real world, even though I don't know anyone else apart from me that actually does it. It's a very good way of venting frustration though. Partly because it makes me giggle when I do it so the frustration is vented through the healing power of being an eejit.

Kick Off

This is the week that the huge endeavour actually has to happen. No, not my birthday, sillies (it's on Saturday, by the way). The play starts tomorrow, which is somewhat stupefying as it's been something of a Sword of Damocles for a year, hanging over all of our heads, from the production team to the cast members, to the families of the production team and cast members. I've had a slightly special view of it, as have only been a part of Play One (see Boanerges for a more detailed explanation of the play) due to slightly diva-esque tendencies that I have been simultaneously chastising and congratulating myself for as the process has gone on. But it is actually quite nice being part of a production, so getting all the nice stuff that that entails, camaraderie etc, and being able to look forward to seeing the show too.

It was also quite a relief to get some time to finish puppet making last night while everyone else was rehearsing. The wolves (on for three appearances tops) are something of a burden. I was really hoping that I could get away without giving them bodies but the director has requested they be bodied up, so I now have to make bodies and work out the mechanics for the actors holding the bodies so it was good to get cracking on that last night. Wile E. Wolf (the second one I made had a coyote-ish snout, hence the name. The first one was relatively dull so he has been monickered Kevin) also needs a face so I have to get cracking on that, too.

There was another reason for relief as my foot, the one that I busted on holiday, has started playing up. No doubt my antics as a puppeteer have upset it rather but wearing a slight heel yesterday and going over on it probably didn't help. I am now wearing my sports trainers and have a little limp. It'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure. Being a puppeteer has been a huge challenge for me but one that I've definitely relished. Considering I did what I thought was a terrible job in the puppeteering part of the audition, I was rather surprised to get one of the main puppets (which basically means one with a line or four). Main problems have been trying to remember I'm invisible, trying to remember I'm invisible but remembering that I can still be in the way, trying to get other people to remember that I'm invisible. Difficult job when a large person already. I've managed on the whole, although a couple of scenes where the introduction of the set changed the physicality have resulted in something slightly nightmarish. Going up and down the (extremely vertical) ladders, playing pass the puppet, very tricky. Going up the stairs, do-able, coming down the stairs, slow and clumpy. The balloon scene, which was re-blocked last week, is a complete nightmare. This is currently my bete noir and I have to spend the interval psyching myself up for it. I have to squat, back against the wall, arm outstretched holding puppet in position in front of me, completely visible albeit in blacks with a hood. This is through the audience coming in after the interval, through voice-over introducing second half, through minute-long conversation. Then I get to move finally because the puppeteer in front of me moves to get into position and makes me less visible, so remove back from wall (hopefully without toppling as I did on Monday) and put weight fully on feet which are starting to go numb. Then have to act with puppet without being able to see puppet (I have a horrible feeling wire and inner workings of puppet are visible) and then, finally, beautifully, I can get up as the set is closed. I then spend the next scene before I go back on, stretching and walking and trying to get some feeling back in to my feet and legs.

Discomfort aside, I have loved doing this play. I enjoyed the day-long puppet making sessions. I enjoyed rehearsals. I like everyone in it, although certain cast members have driven me mad, one in particular who has been getting very stressed (uncharacteristically so, I might add) about people doing things correctly and then who doesn't turn his mobile phone off and does not possess the ability to whisper. My Dad has defended PD, who I personally feel doesn't deserve it. He might have got on a bit better if he'd aimed for the cast-call time rather than the play-start time. That's all I'm saying. I am trying very hard to resist the call of the inner prefect though. I'm not exactly on top of it but I'm getting there.

Wow, this is a very rambly post. Apologies for those reading this who are bored with the play already. I may post again later today. I was going to post about something quite different and then got derailed by reading Boanerges (shakes fist).

This week at work...

...I have managed to look through a holiday brochure for the US to get holiday ideas. I'm pretty stuck on Stowe, Vermont and Boston as destinations other than New York. The pictures of Fall leaves make me stroke the pages. Talking about it over with MuleBoy, realised that he has much more confused idea of where everything is than me. Glad I now know where all the states are - yay, the Geography Game (also played at work)
...I have gone back to a story idea that I never got off the ground and have written some actual words. Not many but they exist
...I have designed a Chocolatl (sic) wrapper for the play
...I have requested rights information for a play we're planning to pitch for next year
...I have decided on a new hair colour for when I get my hair done next Friday
...I have hunted eBay for wedding shoes, mainly because the wedding bit in BHS has closed down, which was where I planned to go. Still nervous about buying stuff I haven't tried on so haven't gone so far as to purchase anything yet. Also looked at Irregular Choice shoes. Gorgeous but the ones I really like are so vertiginous, I can't imagine wearing them for more than five minutes at a time. Also looked at possible Best Lady garb for Big Sis. Still haven't found anything that looks right, although looking back at Kate Winslet's Alexander McQueen for Givenchy Oscar outfit, that's kind of what I want. But one that's less likely to keep Big Sis stuck in an embarrassingly lengthy toilet trip a la Kate.
...I have looked for hotels in the area for the wedding night. I am not obsessed. Really.
...I went dancing twice, first at Salsa, second at Urban Funk. First one, not that keen on dancing that close to someone as can't hide sweaty-face easily and not allowed to just do whatever the hell I want. Also, looked down at my feet at the wrong point and realised that dancing partner was slightly more excited than he had any reason to be (I mentioned sweaty-face, did I not?) Made me want to run away and never come back. Urban Funk was blessed relief following that.

...I haven't told anyone that I am bored and have little to do because then they might get a bit suspicious about what I'm actually doing with my time. I have done some work, obviously. I sent some letters out already this morning. I did the post just now. Some students who've left will be getting exit awards. It's all good, it just takes up no time at all.