I am currently taking a week off from work, hence posting at night rather than in the daytime. It feels very luxurious, in much the same way that waking up this morning naturally (without any alarm or need or anxiety!) felt extremely luxurious. As always, I have managed to be quite fantastically lazy. Although I must say that I really, properly needed to be. I hurt with tiredness on Saturday and felt that the play was going to break me. Last night, one of our nights off in the run, I had a rehearsal for The Overcoat, which is something I'm doing separately from the Bench, and I could barely stand for the length of it. I was grateful for the distraction provided by Steve and Meatball who were being tarts. Steve joined in with perfect comic timing - a meow response to a question, which creased up the company for a few moments. They are the world's best cats.
The play is going well. I'm currently feeling rather torn by it. Normally I wish a run could just carry on, but this is one of the first plays that I've done where I've almost needed it to end when it ends. I feel both sad and relieved after each performance. And that's probably how I will feel on the last night. I love doing it but I really don't know how good it is for me. I've really been living both in and as my character and it will be a wrench to say goodbye to that. I think Toyboy will be relieved. He loves acting as I do but has never lost himself in a play or character as much as I have in this so I think he has a bemused/jealous/wistful thing going on, particularly when his girlfriend starts acting in a rather schizophrenic fashion. When he saw it for the first time, he was surprised by how many lines he already knew - mainly because I'd been quoting it for months without realising. I stopped myself when we were talking last night because I smiled like Anna, which I have a feeling is going to be the case for a while.
I got a good review, which stunned me rather. I'm quite used to being forgotten in our local paper, so it was rather a shock to be reviewed in such a glowing fashion, although I always feel that he can't compliment one cast member without detracting from the achievements of the others. When it's a real group effort, which this is, we are working so hard together, it feels like a shame that any one of us is singled out, so much as I appreciated the praise there was a downside. And also, the pressure is immense. The second night was terrifying as I suddenly realised that I had to live up to expectations. The other reviews that we've had have been more evenhanded, which is a relief. My performance is one that I'm really proud of but it's grown out of responses and feelings and ideas that all come out of what everyone else has put in.
Right, I'm off to bed. We had a good audience tonight. There were quite a few of Beanie's students, which made things quite entertaining. Every time he swore there was little titter, bless them. I missed Ems, which was gutting as I really wanted to see her afterwards, mainly to get praise but also because I knew how much she loves the play and wanted her honest opinion. Which I'm looking forward to from Mrs Drunken Accomplice on Thursday as well. But right now I'm knackered so bed it is, although I have a heap of gunk to remove first! Ugh, makeup and heels, two things I'll be glad to see the back of, if nothing else.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Raring To Go
There's always a point in the preparing of a play when all you want to do is get on with it. Everything is ready, you've done as much as you can really do without killing the spirit of it - being overprepared can be as bad as being underprepared. And you just want and need an audience to lend you that je ne sais quoi that is the point of the whole endeavour. The actors need the adrenalin and the unpredictability that are the reasons why acting in a theatre has to be a better thrill than working in film or TV.
Tomorrow is the opening night of Closer. We've done our dress rehearsals, we all know what we're doing, the director thought that last night was "an absolute blinder" and the general feeling is a positive one. It was a bit of a funny one for me last night as I feel just exhausted. I've not been sleeping very well - the excitement at everything coming together last week, nerves, the responsibility of the costumes, and actually a certain amount of emotional upheaval. It's funny but I've really felt that it's burrowed under my skin. I don't know why, partly I think it's because the entire focus of the play is on the relationships and the associated emotions. There's no let up from the inner lives of the characters - it goes from intense conversation to intense conversation. It's very difficult to switch off from. So, due to the sheer weariness, last night felt a little bit like I had to really push it hard. I had a note from the previous night's dress rehearsal about always standing in the same position, which I had been worrying about but wasn't sure what to do - just change the legs? And then I got out there and looked a) like I was about to fall over or b) like I didn't know what to do with myself. Both of which were true. I also forgot a costume change, ironically as I had designed them, which meant that Big Sis as the dresser didn't think to correct me. I got the change done but then forgot to take on a prop and had to improvise. It's funny though, as soon as you distract yourself like that it really changes the way you play it and particularly useful for that scene as I'm supposed to be completely wrongfooted on my entrance. My Dad tells a story of a director who moves props marginally on a set so that actors are forced out of doing things automatically and it does work. As soon as you hit that point where you are thinking on your feet and trying to listen to what you're saying and what people are saying to you, it does become a bit more real.
The plan for tonight is that I just chill, I'm hoping that this helps with the whole sleeping thing. If all else fails, there is the wine! However, the main part of the problem is that I really, really want to get on with it. No matter how tired I am, I just wish it was Thursday night at 6.30 and I could get settled in the dressing rooms, talk bollocks with McFarley for a bit while changing (it fascinates me that she, one of the most beautiful people I've ever actually met in real life, has issues with the way that she looks. Us women are a bit mental), then get on with doing what I love best. I just wish life onstage lasted a bit longer. I like a world where I know what I'm saying all the time, where I know how to react, where I'm not goofy or weird. I like feeling an audience move with me, or against me depending on the part, it's such an awesome sensation making people laugh or cry or gasp. I hope this difficult, emotional, funny and cynical play grabs people in the way that I feel I've been grabbed by it in the process. All we can do is hope and I just can't wait until I know.
Tomorrow is the opening night of Closer. We've done our dress rehearsals, we all know what we're doing, the director thought that last night was "an absolute blinder" and the general feeling is a positive one. It was a bit of a funny one for me last night as I feel just exhausted. I've not been sleeping very well - the excitement at everything coming together last week, nerves, the responsibility of the costumes, and actually a certain amount of emotional upheaval. It's funny but I've really felt that it's burrowed under my skin. I don't know why, partly I think it's because the entire focus of the play is on the relationships and the associated emotions. There's no let up from the inner lives of the characters - it goes from intense conversation to intense conversation. It's very difficult to switch off from. So, due to the sheer weariness, last night felt a little bit like I had to really push it hard. I had a note from the previous night's dress rehearsal about always standing in the same position, which I had been worrying about but wasn't sure what to do - just change the legs? And then I got out there and looked a) like I was about to fall over or b) like I didn't know what to do with myself. Both of which were true. I also forgot a costume change, ironically as I had designed them, which meant that Big Sis as the dresser didn't think to correct me. I got the change done but then forgot to take on a prop and had to improvise. It's funny though, as soon as you distract yourself like that it really changes the way you play it and particularly useful for that scene as I'm supposed to be completely wrongfooted on my entrance. My Dad tells a story of a director who moves props marginally on a set so that actors are forced out of doing things automatically and it does work. As soon as you hit that point where you are thinking on your feet and trying to listen to what you're saying and what people are saying to you, it does become a bit more real.
The plan for tonight is that I just chill, I'm hoping that this helps with the whole sleeping thing. If all else fails, there is the wine! However, the main part of the problem is that I really, really want to get on with it. No matter how tired I am, I just wish it was Thursday night at 6.30 and I could get settled in the dressing rooms, talk bollocks with McFarley for a bit while changing (it fascinates me that she, one of the most beautiful people I've ever actually met in real life, has issues with the way that she looks. Us women are a bit mental), then get on with doing what I love best. I just wish life onstage lasted a bit longer. I like a world where I know what I'm saying all the time, where I know how to react, where I'm not goofy or weird. I like feeling an audience move with me, or against me depending on the part, it's such an awesome sensation making people laugh or cry or gasp. I hope this difficult, emotional, funny and cynical play grabs people in the way that I feel I've been grabbed by it in the process. All we can do is hope and I just can't wait until I know.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Starting to Focus
Although I say that, I had a remarkable lack of focus last night at rehearsal. I was doing really well, no giggling, no nothing, not even on the line that cracked me up last time we did the scene. Then, as I was doing some intense, lovelorn staring at McBride, I saw Beanie jump up in the corner of my eye as if suddenly remembering that he needed to be on and that was me done for about ten minutes. After trying to run it several times, we finally got through to the end of the scene, with me making strange wheezy, hysterical noises and trying not to cry with laughter. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the corpsing stopped and I was on dry land again. It is such an odd phenomenon and hugely frustrating because, a lot of the time, the trigger is something not even faintly amusing and I don't even know why I keep laughing, but laugh I do and can't carry on sensibly until it's run its course. The worst one is still Dead Funny when we had our first custard pie rehearsal. I saw Big Blue get hit square on in the face with one, carried on for a bit and then just had to sit down and howl for a good five minutes. To be fair, though, with that one, seeing someone get hit with a custard pie is genuinely funny. As was smacking eggs on McBride's head in The Cripple of Inishmaan. Every so often I wish there were more instances when cracking eggs on someone is an acceptable thing to do. It's extremely satisfying.
I must admit that I do still want to find something to blame. Tiredness is always a good one as I am prone to hysteria when weary, and I do feel more than a little weary. I'll blame that.
But anyway, apart from the hysterics, it was a positive rehearsal last night. I am starting to feel that Anna is coming together. I've found my link with her; sarcasm as a defence mechanism. It's quite interesting because I've been consciously trying to stop myself from being overly derisive and sarcastic when on edge in recent years. It caused a lot of grief with the ex and it also made me feel extremely guilty when I'd lash out too quickly. Although it is still a weapon in my arsenal, I try not to let it be my first response. So, as Anna, I've got this immediate resource to draw on, in terms of lightning strike sarcasm and the insecurity that lives beneath it. It does imply a mere shell of confidence and I like that we have that in common. It makes her feel more like me and less like someone I'm intimidated by.
My Mum and Dad gave me some ideas to think about, which I have yet to implement. I tried yesterday but it didn't quite work so that's one to play about with a little bit more. I was quite amused that their consensus was that I am generally less good at playing normal people. I think my secret has to always be that, when tackling people who are normal, I have to drag them down to my level. Find their inner weirdo.
Now, if I could just conquer that giggling thing...
I must admit that I do still want to find something to blame. Tiredness is always a good one as I am prone to hysteria when weary, and I do feel more than a little weary. I'll blame that.
But anyway, apart from the hysterics, it was a positive rehearsal last night. I am starting to feel that Anna is coming together. I've found my link with her; sarcasm as a defence mechanism. It's quite interesting because I've been consciously trying to stop myself from being overly derisive and sarcastic when on edge in recent years. It caused a lot of grief with the ex and it also made me feel extremely guilty when I'd lash out too quickly. Although it is still a weapon in my arsenal, I try not to let it be my first response. So, as Anna, I've got this immediate resource to draw on, in terms of lightning strike sarcasm and the insecurity that lives beneath it. It does imply a mere shell of confidence and I like that we have that in common. It makes her feel more like me and less like someone I'm intimidated by.
My Mum and Dad gave me some ideas to think about, which I have yet to implement. I tried yesterday but it didn't quite work so that's one to play about with a little bit more. I was quite amused that their consensus was that I am generally less good at playing normal people. I think my secret has to always be that, when tackling people who are normal, I have to drag them down to my level. Find their inner weirdo.
Now, if I could just conquer that giggling thing...
Friday, March 06, 2009
Tomorrow, or maybe Friday...
So, I had originally intended to post on Monday about this whole play thing as I've been pitched headfirst, overbalancing slightly, into rehearsals for Closer as of Sunday. We'd had a couple of preliminary meetings; a readthrough and a long discussion on characterisation, using personality tests as the main focus, which was new and different, but Sunday was our first standing-up-moving-around-doing-talking type rehearsal. I had been struggling with the character and the play since being cast. I feel a little intimidated by the character, she feels a bit like the cool girls in school to me. Effortlessly well-groomed, sardonic, completely comfortable with themselves and their attractiveness, intelligent and flirtatious. Next to them I always felt a bit like an idiotic and clumsy child, as I struggled to understand boys, do anything with my hair or have any conversation outside of my immediate, similarly insecure and socially inept, group of friends. So to be playing the character feels strangely presumptuous. Like I'm trying to be someone I'm not. Which is a funny way to feel, given that is what a lot of this acting malarkey is, in essence . However, I'm perfectly content to be an Irish egg-throwing bitch, or a sad and broody victim of infidelity or even Charlotte Bronte. I'm not saying I found those easy but I could really relate to them; they were all a bit on the edge, all misfits in their own special way. Anna is almost terrifyingly normal. And it seems like a very silly thing to say, but I'm not sure how good I am at being normal.
My insecurities about the character are really bleeding into rehearsal, so I spent all of Sunday's rehearsal feeling, and probably looking, like a skittish colt. Suffice to say, terrified is not really how I see Anna. On Tuesday's rehearsal, I was less obviously nervy but I'm so thrown by the intensity of the part and the play that I kept corpsing. I had to keep apologising and didn't know how to explain that it was nerves not concentration that was the problem. And everyone else seems to find it all so easy in comparison. On the plus side, I'm kind of getting there in my head so I think I should get better at each rehearsal. For a start, this has given me the drive I needed to just get on and workout/stop eating crap. Knowing that people are going to come and see me in a play where I'm described as "beautiful" and "bloody gorgeous" is quite a good reason for me to do something about my appearance, or at least the way that I feel about my appearance. I've been trying to move differently when walking and I take more stock of my surroundings, including the people I pass, and ideas or reactions from them. I've managed to learn my lines for most of the scenes that I've already done, which is something I don't normally do so early on, but the rhythms and patterns of the language are such that it just goes in and stays there. I've been trying to think of people who remind me of Anna so that I've got a hook to start with in terms of voice and movement. I'm getting there, I just hope that the nerves die down so I can get on with it. I've got this image in my head of what I want to project. But I found a nice Mamet quote about acting while looking for something else. I do agree with him, and it is something I try to do - not to do too much but to find a way to be as honest as possible so that the audience can feel what I'm feeling:
It's not the actor's job to embellish the play, but to do something more worthwhile and difficult: to resist embellishing it. It's when one resists the impulse to help that the truth emerges. The great actors I've seen in movies or on stage are capable of being quite still, and letting their uncertainty, fear and conficting desires emerge rather than trying to cover them up with their ideas.
My insecurities about the character are really bleeding into rehearsal, so I spent all of Sunday's rehearsal feeling, and probably looking, like a skittish colt. Suffice to say, terrified is not really how I see Anna. On Tuesday's rehearsal, I was less obviously nervy but I'm so thrown by the intensity of the part and the play that I kept corpsing. I had to keep apologising and didn't know how to explain that it was nerves not concentration that was the problem. And everyone else seems to find it all so easy in comparison. On the plus side, I'm kind of getting there in my head so I think I should get better at each rehearsal. For a start, this has given me the drive I needed to just get on and workout/stop eating crap. Knowing that people are going to come and see me in a play where I'm described as "beautiful" and "bloody gorgeous" is quite a good reason for me to do something about my appearance, or at least the way that I feel about my appearance. I've been trying to move differently when walking and I take more stock of my surroundings, including the people I pass, and ideas or reactions from them. I've managed to learn my lines for most of the scenes that I've already done, which is something I don't normally do so early on, but the rhythms and patterns of the language are such that it just goes in and stays there. I've been trying to think of people who remind me of Anna so that I've got a hook to start with in terms of voice and movement. I'm getting there, I just hope that the nerves die down so I can get on with it. I've got this image in my head of what I want to project. But I found a nice Mamet quote about acting while looking for something else. I do agree with him, and it is something I try to do - not to do too much but to find a way to be as honest as possible so that the audience can feel what I'm feeling:
It's not the actor's job to embellish the play, but to do something more worthwhile and difficult: to resist embellishing it. It's when one resists the impulse to help that the truth emerges. The great actors I've seen in movies or on stage are capable of being quite still, and letting their uncertainty, fear and conficting desires emerge rather than trying to cover them up with their ideas.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Back in Business
I'm back at work after a very odd week off when I had a cold. I'd feel guilty about taking time off on Thursday and Friday, and then spend an hour coughing up mucus, which made me feel less guilty as I wouldn't have really wanted to do that at work. But I felt switched off for the whole week. I finally felt better on Saturday and it was as though I got switched on again and all the stuff that I'd forgotten to do came flooding back. Never a fun experience. Now, first day back, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed and my hormones have ganged up on me. You'll be glad to know that I have just deleted a lengthy paranthesis debating the use of the word "ganged"; you dodged a bullet there, gentle reader, mainly because I'm not as good at grammar as I wish I was and didn't really know what I was talking about.
On Monday I valiantly struggled into work so I could have my interview. It went very well and my interview technique, which I will patent as the "what would Mrs Drunken Accomplice do?" technique, was quite successful. In the end I was their second choice which, dagnabbit, meant I still didn't get the job but my confidence is greatly improved. I then crawled home and spent most of the week curled up on the sofa. At least I got to see Toyboy a lot who is very proficient at hair stroking and being a human pillow, both of which are essential attributes for looking after me when I am poorly.
Eeshk, I write these gradually during the day and the end of the day came much quicker than expected today. I may, if I feel inclined, post again tomorrow. How exciting for you all.
On Monday I valiantly struggled into work so I could have my interview. It went very well and my interview technique, which I will patent as the "what would Mrs Drunken Accomplice do?" technique, was quite successful. In the end I was their second choice which, dagnabbit, meant I still didn't get the job but my confidence is greatly improved. I then crawled home and spent most of the week curled up on the sofa. At least I got to see Toyboy a lot who is very proficient at hair stroking and being a human pillow, both of which are essential attributes for looking after me when I am poorly.
Eeshk, I write these gradually during the day and the end of the day came much quicker than expected today. I may, if I feel inclined, post again tomorrow. How exciting for you all.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Obsessions, niggles and just plain avoidance
Oh good lord. I'm supposed to be filling out two, count 'em, two application forms for two separate jobs for which the closing date is tomorrow. Why can I not just get on and finish them? To be fair, I am, on the whole, doing my actual work, but I really can't seem to be able to just get down and write my personal statement bit. I know what needs to be in there and how to sell myself but the act of actually getting it down on paper is causing me forehead wrinkles. And a red eye, apparently. I scared myself when I saw my reflection in the mirror, I looked a little bit like Trog's family in Trog and the Fire when they made a fire without ventilation (I've just been searching the interweb for a Trog screenshot but couldn't find one. Although I now wish to play the game Trog and see the film Trog, with Joan Crawford. Now that, my friends, is how to do some good, old-fashioned timewasting).
But my other obsessions are still jostling for superiority in my limited brain space and I do struggle to take my mind off of them, even if it jumps straight onto another one. The cats have been an obsession, with various minor ailments requiring treatment, this has led to a dip into my savings and a big dip into the generosity of my parents. This in turn leads to money obsession and then onto food yada yada yada.
The fun obsessions make life worth living. Currently I am obsessed with Adam and Joe, whose podcasts make me particularly happy if a little bit mad as I giggle in a solitary way on the train or in an office. The Temp, who seems to find me a particularly fascinating and hilarious human being, often gazes at me while giggling just for the joy of it. I like it, it reaffirms my belief that I am funny without needing to make too much of an effort. And she's not deranged in the way that that makes her sound. She's quite normal really, and I will really miss her when she goes next week. The other bad thing about the Adam and Joe thing is that I get behind on the podcasts and end up listening to the same ones a few times, which in turn leads me to quote it randomly in a way that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else. Fortunately Beanie commenced listening to the show recently and now at least understands "Stephen!"
I've also mourned the end of one of my obsessions as I have been joyfully taping the Gilmore Girls on E4 since September and I finally got to the final episode the other week. I cried. I am a big girl's blouse. I also wish that I was Lorelai Gilmore and lived in Stars Hollow. It started again from the beginning immediately after finishing so if you fancy watching something with completely random cultural references, girls who talk very quickly and the occasional bit of heartrending loveliness, go for it. Please see below for a quote (note to the wise, Lorelai and Rory are the mother and daughter Gilmore Girls. They are not sisters as my Mum asks every time I tried to make her watch it. Emily is Lorelai's mother and they have a less harmonious relationship and spend a lot of the time trying to torture the other in their own ways):
Lorelai: Heh, you know what I just realized? "Oy" is the funniest word in the entire world.
Rory: Hmm.
Lorelai: I mean think about it, you never hear the word "oy" and not smile. Impossible. Funny, funny word.
Emily: Oh dear God.
Lorelai: "Poodle" is another funny word.
Emily: Please drink your drink, Lorelai.
Lorelai: In fact, if you put "oy" and "poodle" together, in the same sentence, you'd have a great new catchphrase, you know? Like, "Oy with the poodles already."
Rory: Hehe.
Lorelai: So from now on, when the perfect circumstances arise, we will use our favorite new catchphrase:
Rory: Oy with the poodles already.
Lorelai: I'm telling you, it's knocking "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" right out of first place.
My other obsession is the play that I've been cast in. It's a nice truth that every time I approach a play I worry about the fact that I'm doing something new. Yet again, it's a new challenge and one that really unnerves me as it is someone who is very different from me. I feel like I need to change the way that I move and look and my thoughts revolve around how to achieve this. I also want to get started so that I can put some of the ideas into practice. Very impatient!!!
Argh, I really should get going with the whole statement thing. It was a fun diversion, though. Ugh, on with selling myself...
But my other obsessions are still jostling for superiority in my limited brain space and I do struggle to take my mind off of them, even if it jumps straight onto another one. The cats have been an obsession, with various minor ailments requiring treatment, this has led to a dip into my savings and a big dip into the generosity of my parents. This in turn leads to money obsession and then onto food yada yada yada.
The fun obsessions make life worth living. Currently I am obsessed with Adam and Joe, whose podcasts make me particularly happy if a little bit mad as I giggle in a solitary way on the train or in an office. The Temp, who seems to find me a particularly fascinating and hilarious human being, often gazes at me while giggling just for the joy of it. I like it, it reaffirms my belief that I am funny without needing to make too much of an effort. And she's not deranged in the way that that makes her sound. She's quite normal really, and I will really miss her when she goes next week. The other bad thing about the Adam and Joe thing is that I get behind on the podcasts and end up listening to the same ones a few times, which in turn leads me to quote it randomly in a way that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else. Fortunately Beanie commenced listening to the show recently and now at least understands "Stephen!"
I've also mourned the end of one of my obsessions as I have been joyfully taping the Gilmore Girls on E4 since September and I finally got to the final episode the other week. I cried. I am a big girl's blouse. I also wish that I was Lorelai Gilmore and lived in Stars Hollow. It started again from the beginning immediately after finishing so if you fancy watching something with completely random cultural references, girls who talk very quickly and the occasional bit of heartrending loveliness, go for it. Please see below for a quote (note to the wise, Lorelai and Rory are the mother and daughter Gilmore Girls. They are not sisters as my Mum asks every time I tried to make her watch it. Emily is Lorelai's mother and they have a less harmonious relationship and spend a lot of the time trying to torture the other in their own ways):
Lorelai: Heh, you know what I just realized? "Oy" is the funniest word in the entire world.
Rory: Hmm.
Lorelai: I mean think about it, you never hear the word "oy" and not smile. Impossible. Funny, funny word.
Emily: Oh dear God.
Lorelai: "Poodle" is another funny word.
Emily: Please drink your drink, Lorelai.
Lorelai: In fact, if you put "oy" and "poodle" together, in the same sentence, you'd have a great new catchphrase, you know? Like, "Oy with the poodles already."
Rory: Hehe.
Lorelai: So from now on, when the perfect circumstances arise, we will use our favorite new catchphrase:
Rory: Oy with the poodles already.
Lorelai: I'm telling you, it's knocking "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" right out of first place.
My other obsession is the play that I've been cast in. It's a nice truth that every time I approach a play I worry about the fact that I'm doing something new. Yet again, it's a new challenge and one that really unnerves me as it is someone who is very different from me. I feel like I need to change the way that I move and look and my thoughts revolve around how to achieve this. I also want to get started so that I can put some of the ideas into practice. Very impatient!!!
Argh, I really should get going with the whole statement thing. It was a fun diversion, though. Ugh, on with selling myself...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Pretty but Insane
Hola! I just read a very funny post on one of the blogs that I read every day (is it comforting to know that although I am rubbish at getting on with writing them, I'm still reading them regularly? Nah, not so much) and wanted to share the love. I love Go Fug Yourself, full of witty snark and references to incredibly random pop culture, my favourite posts are the sections narrated by the magnificent J-Lo. So here's one of them bits for your edification. It's been quiet in the world of J-Lo 'cause of the twins and quiet on the Britney front, my other favourite narrator, so thank God she's back on track so that they can start mocking her again.
Things are going well in Kitten-Land. I'm currently cream-crackered as we're doing Wind in the Willows at the moment. It's our big Christmas show and we do these every other year because they're so ginormous - lots of props, fancy set and lots of characters played by a large cast who still have to do a lot of doubling. I've got five costumes and six costume changes and it is a little crazy backstage. We had Dress Rehearsal #1 last night and it was a real relief to know that I had time to actually do the changes, although I didn't exactly help myself by putting my boots on the wrong feet. It was like that bit in The Longest Day, except that I had time to change them over and didn't get shot. And I'm not German. And it isn't D-Day. So, okay, not so much like that bit in The Longest Day.
Big Blue and I are happy in our little flat; despite fun and games with mould and condensation, we've decided to extend our Tenancy Agreement. I'm thoroughly enjoying spending time with ToyBoy; we have a lot of fun. He dances with me, we warble away randomly and both of us are those annoying people who snog publicly, which is me making up for lost time from my barren teenage years, I think. Money is still an issue but meh, I'm coping. Family is well, parties are planned and I'm nearly there with Christmas, although I have completely given up on doing cards. The cats are well; Steve has resumed up her habit of snuggling under the duvet with me in the mornings while Meatball bullies Big Blue into playing the Light Game with her. In the rare evenings when we're all in at the moment, they take turns sitting on us while we drink wine and admire our Christmas decorations. It isn't perfect all the time, but it is really nice.
Things are going well in Kitten-Land. I'm currently cream-crackered as we're doing Wind in the Willows at the moment. It's our big Christmas show and we do these every other year because they're so ginormous - lots of props, fancy set and lots of characters played by a large cast who still have to do a lot of doubling. I've got five costumes and six costume changes and it is a little crazy backstage. We had Dress Rehearsal #1 last night and it was a real relief to know that I had time to actually do the changes, although I didn't exactly help myself by putting my boots on the wrong feet. It was like that bit in The Longest Day, except that I had time to change them over and didn't get shot. And I'm not German. And it isn't D-Day. So, okay, not so much like that bit in The Longest Day.
Big Blue and I are happy in our little flat; despite fun and games with mould and condensation, we've decided to extend our Tenancy Agreement. I'm thoroughly enjoying spending time with ToyBoy; we have a lot of fun. He dances with me, we warble away randomly and both of us are those annoying people who snog publicly, which is me making up for lost time from my barren teenage years, I think. Money is still an issue but meh, I'm coping. Family is well, parties are planned and I'm nearly there with Christmas, although I have completely given up on doing cards. The cats are well; Steve has resumed up her habit of snuggling under the duvet with me in the mornings while Meatball bullies Big Blue into playing the Light Game with her. In the rare evenings when we're all in at the moment, they take turns sitting on us while we drink wine and admire our Christmas decorations. It isn't perfect all the time, but it is really nice.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Unoriginality
I feel like the world and his wife is probably writing about money troubles. It's one of those things that everyone has niggling away at them at the moment. But this blog is nothing if not about the niggles in my brain and as a blog starts off as an entirely self-indulgent medium in the first place, you know what you're getting when you come over here.
I used to be really good at money. I knew how much I had and was always able to say no to stuff. I don't know when exactly the switch flipped in my brain that said "you have money so spend, spend, spend until it's all gone" but I wish I knew what to do to switch it back again. I read a financial advice column in the paper about a girl who is in a similar financial situation to me (although she definitely gets paid more because her little treats involve designer names) and the advice was that it's a slog and pretty thankless but the only way to get out of it is to save and pay things off and stop spending. And I, in my rational mind, know that this is brilliant advice. And yet, I keep spending. Annoyingly, this is also tied in to the compulsive eating part of my personality which spends way too much money on food and eats it too quickly. So I know that were I to put a stopper on the spending, I would also be able to lose weight. Which, on both sides, would be amazing. Losing weight would also mean that clothes shopping would be a) possible and b) more fun as it's easier to go charity shop shopping at a smaller size. People my size who give clothes to charity shops tend to have really bad taste in clothes, I don't know what that's all about. Obviously, I buck the trend.
The worst thing about stinting is getting obsessive about the clothes I'm not buying and the food I'm not eating. I hate being the boring girl on a diet who can't think about anything else. Life's too short.
I used to be really good at money. I knew how much I had and was always able to say no to stuff. I don't know when exactly the switch flipped in my brain that said "you have money so spend, spend, spend until it's all gone" but I wish I knew what to do to switch it back again. I read a financial advice column in the paper about a girl who is in a similar financial situation to me (although she definitely gets paid more because her little treats involve designer names) and the advice was that it's a slog and pretty thankless but the only way to get out of it is to save and pay things off and stop spending. And I, in my rational mind, know that this is brilliant advice. And yet, I keep spending. Annoyingly, this is also tied in to the compulsive eating part of my personality which spends way too much money on food and eats it too quickly. So I know that were I to put a stopper on the spending, I would also be able to lose weight. Which, on both sides, would be amazing. Losing weight would also mean that clothes shopping would be a) possible and b) more fun as it's easier to go charity shop shopping at a smaller size. People my size who give clothes to charity shops tend to have really bad taste in clothes, I don't know what that's all about. Obviously, I buck the trend.
The worst thing about stinting is getting obsessive about the clothes I'm not buying and the food I'm not eating. I hate being the boring girl on a diet who can't think about anything else. Life's too short.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Hoorah
So I totally passed my driving test yesterday. It still feels a bit unlikely. I kept putting off getting behind the wheel, mainly because of expense (and it was gosh-darned expensive so that was probably a good decision) but felt a bit strange about not being able to drive. And I have been, more and more, feeling the need, the need for speed. Or just the need to take the cats to the vet without having to disrupt other people's afternoons, or go shopping for furniture, or go on a daytrip out somewhere unreachable by train. I'm only using my Mum's car at the moment and I have no plans to buy my own car but just having that license is incredibly liberating. And such a relief. Weirdly though, I feel under pressure to be excited about it. People keep asking me whether I'm excited and whether I've already had a test spin and when I'm going to go out for the first time ya da ya da ya da. But why do I have to be so goshdarned excited? Is there something wrong with me that I'm mainly just relieved? I kind of feel that I've been so focussed on getting the job done that I'm slightly surprised by the fact that I have to do something afterwards. I think I've just got to get used to it first and I object to having other people's preconceptions forced upon me a little bit as well. Which is generally how I react to most things; a bit complicated, get confused and worried that I don't feel a certain way about things, get annoyed at being expected to feel a certain way about things and then relax. It's busy up in here, you know?
Friday, September 05, 2008
Extraordinarily, Phenomenally Late Review
I was at an event last night for the company of theatre that I belong to. Of course, "event" makes it sound exciting - something with a glitterball perhaps (I discovered this week that I am in fact a camp gay man. Somewhere MuleBoy is nodding his head, "I told her she was camp, I told her". I never realised it was possible for a woman to be camp before but it is true, it has been confirmed. I should have guessed however, I watched Seven Brides for Seven Brothers again the other night and was again captivated by the splendour of the singing and dancing hot men in matching coloured shirts (I have a particular thing for Ben at the moment but it is changeable). I'm also particularly obsessed with one of the brides, Dorcas, who Big Sis and I worship and have patented Dorcas impressions. On looking at the credits I discovered that the actress was Julie Newmeier, who later changed her name to Julie Newmar, aka Catwoman. It's difficult to be more camp, lets face it.)
At this point I realise that I abuse the humble parentheses on a regular basis and decide to return to my original point before being arrested for crimes against punctuation marks. What was my original point? Oh yes, so I am at this event which is dull, no glitterballs and both Big Blue and I had attended the preliminary meeting on Sunday so it was basically a load of stuff we'd heard before. As I am no longer in a position of responsibility, I felt it was my prerogative to sit at the back and be cheeky. Dad was in a heckling-type mood and although Mum asked me to keep him in check, I was more inclined to see what would happen if I encouraged him. Unfortunately he got interested and serious so I got him more wine. Anywho, serious meeting over, we had a chance to look over some archives. I grew up with these and it always feels a little bit like meeting old friends, the plays I wish I'd seen, the plays I saw and loved, the stories I remember and revel in. There's several of my Mum looking beautiful (again I bemoan the cruel twist of fate that caused me to take after my Dad (love you, Dad but you are less pretty)) and one where she looks very cute and tiny but is pregnant with me. I am the only Bench member who can claim to having been on stage pre-natally - in your face, Big Sis. But when I get to modern day stuff, I start getting annoyed at things like press coverage. Mainly because it involves me and I'm selfish that way, although I did get annoyed at a terrible, terrible headline on a glowing review for The Accrington Pals which is one of the many reasons to hate sub-editors. But, although actor me is precious and egotistical enough, director me was annoyed at the lack of credit given to a wonderful cast in the play I directed last year. I didn't cover it in my blog at the time, which I regret, although have mentioned it peripherally. The review focusses on the reviewer's dislike of Ibsen, which seems to be less than the point. So I elect to write my feelings on the play with distance providing a smidge of objectivity.
Being a director is a different beast entirely to being an actor. It is hugely difficult and the two occasions I have directed have caused me to adamantly state that I will never do it again. You never have that feeling of bonding with a group of people because you're never properly part of the team and you just don't get that adrenalin buzz that makes acting my personal drug of choice. There's a hell of a lot of organisation that goes into making a play and although there is a team to help you do it a lot of the time it is the drive to make things happen that has to come from the director that I really struggle with. I'm not a "make things happen" kind of gal. However, The Wild Duck is probably one of the achievements that I am proudest of. I properly, properly loved it. The play itself is beautiful. I understand people's reservations towards Ibsen, it is difficult to really understand the restrictions imposed on characters by society as it was in the late 19th century and the language is different to modern, entirely naturalistic, drama. However, the language in the new adaptation is very melodic, characters are well-defined and plot is pared down from early versions where it is fussy and over-burdened with characters.
The actors mentioned in the review, stalwarts such as Dad, Penfold and Upstage Eyebrow, were all excellent and deserved to have a positive mention. I was glad that Penfold got recognition as I felt that he was pitch perfect as Relling, particularly in the scene with Mrs Sorby and his final fight with Gregers. But I was disappointed that other actors were criticised or not mentioned at all. Mr McB was described as being too mannered and not emotional enough, which was exactly my intention as it worked for the character. As a man who has reentered his family home after years of being away, and having spent the greater portion of that time alone without friends or family, I felt that his inability to relax was appropriate. McB's control over his physicality reflected Greger's control over the situation and his need to suppress himself and his real feelings, which he keeps obscured throughout. I thought McB was remarkable. He changed his voice, the way that he looked and worked so incredibly hard to constrain his normal way of moving that he was almost unrecognisable. Every tiny intonation and gesture meant something and he was fascinating to watch, particularly as he fell apart at the end, clenched fists and wild-eyed as he strives, still, to keep a check on his feelings and bend the world around his ideas.
Beanie was not mentioned at all in the review. Like McB, he was forced to play against type as Hjalmar and, like McB, worked tirelessly to fit into my vision (I slap myself for sounding like a twat). At one stage, trying desperately to communicate what I wanted and failing, he asked whether what I wanted was for him to not sound like him and I was like "yes! That's exactly what I want". Beanie eventually created the perfect Hjalmar: A character who, in his head, is a hero in a melodrama and cuts out anything from his life that doesn't fit with the self-glorifying narrative. Capable of mind-blowing selfishness, leading to negligence and cruelty, he can be unpleasant yet Beanie made him both funny and real and I think it was one of his best performances to date.
The final cast member whose omission from the review caused me pain was McFarley. Her Hedvig was a beautiful creation, and a testament to how hard and good-naturedly McFarley worked. I believe that McFarley was the element of magic that really lifted the production and was shocked that this wasn't recognised.
Everyone did so much to make this production something special, even the actors who only appeared in one scene, and everything that contributed to the overall look and feel of the production was just right. The set (oh, the set! My favourite set), lighting and sound were perfect and the backstage team were kept very busy and have probably been put off herring salad for life.
This has taken most of a day to write and is probably straining your eyeballs. Kudos to anyone who has got this far. I must go, got an evening of camp to look forward to. "Good morning Baltimore..."
At this point I realise that I abuse the humble parentheses on a regular basis and decide to return to my original point before being arrested for crimes against punctuation marks. What was my original point? Oh yes, so I am at this event which is dull, no glitterballs and both Big Blue and I had attended the preliminary meeting on Sunday so it was basically a load of stuff we'd heard before. As I am no longer in a position of responsibility, I felt it was my prerogative to sit at the back and be cheeky. Dad was in a heckling-type mood and although Mum asked me to keep him in check, I was more inclined to see what would happen if I encouraged him. Unfortunately he got interested and serious so I got him more wine. Anywho, serious meeting over, we had a chance to look over some archives. I grew up with these and it always feels a little bit like meeting old friends, the plays I wish I'd seen, the plays I saw and loved, the stories I remember and revel in. There's several of my Mum looking beautiful (again I bemoan the cruel twist of fate that caused me to take after my Dad (love you, Dad but you are less pretty)) and one where she looks very cute and tiny but is pregnant with me. I am the only Bench member who can claim to having been on stage pre-natally - in your face, Big Sis. But when I get to modern day stuff, I start getting annoyed at things like press coverage. Mainly because it involves me and I'm selfish that way, although I did get annoyed at a terrible, terrible headline on a glowing review for The Accrington Pals which is one of the many reasons to hate sub-editors. But, although actor me is precious and egotistical enough, director me was annoyed at the lack of credit given to a wonderful cast in the play I directed last year. I didn't cover it in my blog at the time, which I regret, although have mentioned it peripherally. The review focusses on the reviewer's dislike of Ibsen, which seems to be less than the point. So I elect to write my feelings on the play with distance providing a smidge of objectivity.
Being a director is a different beast entirely to being an actor. It is hugely difficult and the two occasions I have directed have caused me to adamantly state that I will never do it again. You never have that feeling of bonding with a group of people because you're never properly part of the team and you just don't get that adrenalin buzz that makes acting my personal drug of choice. There's a hell of a lot of organisation that goes into making a play and although there is a team to help you do it a lot of the time it is the drive to make things happen that has to come from the director that I really struggle with. I'm not a "make things happen" kind of gal. However, The Wild Duck is probably one of the achievements that I am proudest of. I properly, properly loved it. The play itself is beautiful. I understand people's reservations towards Ibsen, it is difficult to really understand the restrictions imposed on characters by society as it was in the late 19th century and the language is different to modern, entirely naturalistic, drama. However, the language in the new adaptation is very melodic, characters are well-defined and plot is pared down from early versions where it is fussy and over-burdened with characters.
The actors mentioned in the review, stalwarts such as Dad, Penfold and Upstage Eyebrow, were all excellent and deserved to have a positive mention. I was glad that Penfold got recognition as I felt that he was pitch perfect as Relling, particularly in the scene with Mrs Sorby and his final fight with Gregers. But I was disappointed that other actors were criticised or not mentioned at all. Mr McB was described as being too mannered and not emotional enough, which was exactly my intention as it worked for the character. As a man who has reentered his family home after years of being away, and having spent the greater portion of that time alone without friends or family, I felt that his inability to relax was appropriate. McB's control over his physicality reflected Greger's control over the situation and his need to suppress himself and his real feelings, which he keeps obscured throughout. I thought McB was remarkable. He changed his voice, the way that he looked and worked so incredibly hard to constrain his normal way of moving that he was almost unrecognisable. Every tiny intonation and gesture meant something and he was fascinating to watch, particularly as he fell apart at the end, clenched fists and wild-eyed as he strives, still, to keep a check on his feelings and bend the world around his ideas.
Beanie was not mentioned at all in the review. Like McB, he was forced to play against type as Hjalmar and, like McB, worked tirelessly to fit into my vision (I slap myself for sounding like a twat). At one stage, trying desperately to communicate what I wanted and failing, he asked whether what I wanted was for him to not sound like him and I was like "yes! That's exactly what I want". Beanie eventually created the perfect Hjalmar: A character who, in his head, is a hero in a melodrama and cuts out anything from his life that doesn't fit with the self-glorifying narrative. Capable of mind-blowing selfishness, leading to negligence and cruelty, he can be unpleasant yet Beanie made him both funny and real and I think it was one of his best performances to date.
The final cast member whose omission from the review caused me pain was McFarley. Her Hedvig was a beautiful creation, and a testament to how hard and good-naturedly McFarley worked. I believe that McFarley was the element of magic that really lifted the production and was shocked that this wasn't recognised.
Everyone did so much to make this production something special, even the actors who only appeared in one scene, and everything that contributed to the overall look and feel of the production was just right. The set (oh, the set! My favourite set), lighting and sound were perfect and the backstage team were kept very busy and have probably been put off herring salad for life.
This has taken most of a day to write and is probably straining your eyeballs. Kudos to anyone who has got this far. I must go, got an evening of camp to look forward to. "Good morning Baltimore..."
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Crazy Days
Well, it's been manic in my little world. All to the good, though, so don't fret that I've been upset or anything. I'm fine, thanks, how you doing? Good? Good.
We are officially all moved in, although still waiting on several small things to be sorted out. Like a fridge freezer, the water heater to be fixed and a washing machine to be fitted. Our landlord is somewhat feckless and annoying and seems to believe that we are stupid because we have boobs. Our dishwasher and washing machine don't fit in the space under the counter (which yes, was a bit daft with the rubbish measuring) but when I asked the landlord if we could do some kitchen alterations in order to make them fit, his first response was that they should fit, not helpful. After Beanie, Big Blue, Big Sis and I had spent an hour trying to make them fit, we were pretty unequivocal that they wouldn't. However, he knows best and has to see it with his own eyes, which has taken a week and a half to get him to do, during which time we have been unable to use said washing machine because the pipe isn't long enough. Argh.
On the very plus side, though, Big Blue and I are getting along well. She has the slightly disconcerting ability to recommence conversations that I wasn't aware we were having and I have a tendency to watch too much on the box (and this is before we actually get the TV sorted out) and I don't think she'd twigged exactly how excessively I love Buffy (I'm rewatching it again and am on series 6 at the moment). However, yesterday she came home early from her trip to Wales, we put up a table together, Herself (then Himself and the Novelty Flying Disc Kid) popped in for some books, then we picked up the cats (HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY), had a glass of wine and talked about plays and acting and whatnot.
I also passed my theory test this morning - whoot - and shall be telling my driving instructor tonight so that we can book the proper test. Apparently I am ready - double whoot.
Lastly, things are going well with ToyBoy. After a weekend away, which involved excessive amounts of sitting in a car able to do very little except read and listen to Adam and Joe podcasts (my slightly hysterical giggles prompted my Mum to ask in a slightly worried tone exactly what I was laughing at), the very first thing I wanted to do was see him. And lo, I did, and it was good.
We are officially all moved in, although still waiting on several small things to be sorted out. Like a fridge freezer, the water heater to be fixed and a washing machine to be fitted. Our landlord is somewhat feckless and annoying and seems to believe that we are stupid because we have boobs. Our dishwasher and washing machine don't fit in the space under the counter (which yes, was a bit daft with the rubbish measuring) but when I asked the landlord if we could do some kitchen alterations in order to make them fit, his first response was that they should fit, not helpful. After Beanie, Big Blue, Big Sis and I had spent an hour trying to make them fit, we were pretty unequivocal that they wouldn't. However, he knows best and has to see it with his own eyes, which has taken a week and a half to get him to do, during which time we have been unable to use said washing machine because the pipe isn't long enough. Argh.
On the very plus side, though, Big Blue and I are getting along well. She has the slightly disconcerting ability to recommence conversations that I wasn't aware we were having and I have a tendency to watch too much on the box (and this is before we actually get the TV sorted out) and I don't think she'd twigged exactly how excessively I love Buffy (I'm rewatching it again and am on series 6 at the moment). However, yesterday she came home early from her trip to Wales, we put up a table together, Herself (then Himself and the Novelty Flying Disc Kid) popped in for some books, then we picked up the cats (HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY), had a glass of wine and talked about plays and acting and whatnot.
I also passed my theory test this morning - whoot - and shall be telling my driving instructor tonight so that we can book the proper test. Apparently I am ready - double whoot.
Lastly, things are going well with ToyBoy. After a weekend away, which involved excessive amounts of sitting in a car able to do very little except read and listen to Adam and Joe podcasts (my slightly hysterical giggles prompted my Mum to ask in a slightly worried tone exactly what I was laughing at), the very first thing I wanted to do was see him. And lo, I did, and it was good.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Flats, Cats and Pirates
Big Blue and I went to the flat last night, armed with tape measures and our Mums. We were met by a rather flustered agent outside trying to warn us before we got there as the previous tenants had literally only just given the keys back and the agent had come in to find it a bit of a state. On our previous visit, we saw the potential for a good flat but the guys living there obviously weren't that house proud, and we were a bit shy to open things in case we found a huge stash of porn, say. Big Blue had the memorable experience of spinning away from a glass tank filled with potential spiders* only to be confronted by a very large pair of boobs on another wall. So I can't say that we were particularly surprised by the state. I was quite surprised at their priorities though, they'd taken all of their posters but left clothes, shoes, a bed and dining room table and chairs. And a slice of pizza on the kitchen counter. Fortunately, though, I think this created quite a positive united front, particularly with Big Blue's Mum who so far has been wary of the whole expedition (I'm sure she'd lose all of her concerns completely were we to get a tumble dryer, although she ain't winning that particular battle). We were all tutting gaily at the state of it and we refused to go back into the master bedroom after nearly losing shoes to the sticky floor (gish) so fun was had by all.
I do have concerns about the flat because I am a born worrier. Other people have always been the major problem in my previous flat experience. Particularly the flat MuleBoy and I rented which had a steadily escalating noise problem with the tenants above. The first people merely walked loudly. The second person had an array of instruments, none of which he could play well (I must admit I used to find it quite funny as he used to play Strangers in the Night and could never, never reach the top note and there would always, always be a pause before he attempted it and failed. It was very Father Ted) and all of which he would play first thing on a Saturday morning. Unbelievably he was topped by the people that followed, who swiftly became our nemesis, nemesisses, nemesees... anyway. An Asian couple who had huge groups over every night for dinner, which would begin when I was going to bed. They managed to be very noisy when it was just the two of them as well; her voice gave me the shivers. There was also the fact that MuleBoy couldn't cope at all and became incredibly angry. I'd managed to live with it and zoned out a lot of the noise but MuleBoy would rail at me for not joining him in being incredibly angry. When I'd actually succeeded in getting to sleep, say, that got rather wearing.
I'm also concerned about the cats. Big Blue, bless her socks, is putting up with the cats coming back to live with me despite being allergic but I'm worried that it may not work out. Also, they're going from living in houses to living in a flat with no enclosed garden, so is it fair on them to give them less space to play in?
I guess my last worry is just about learning to look after myself again - food, money, bills, chores etc. MuleBoy did almost all the chores when we lived together and I barely do very much at all at Mum and Dad's. I've just relied on the fact that with both, I've been in full time work where they haven't and could lean on them heavily in that respect. With Big Blue's proper important job, with added minion, I don't think that's something I can get away with, which means rotas and schedules and things.
On the plus side, we are planning to have a pirate housewarming party. I think about that and all my fears go out the window. Phew.
*It was a tortoise but it could well have BEEN a spider
I do have concerns about the flat because I am a born worrier. Other people have always been the major problem in my previous flat experience. Particularly the flat MuleBoy and I rented which had a steadily escalating noise problem with the tenants above. The first people merely walked loudly. The second person had an array of instruments, none of which he could play well (I must admit I used to find it quite funny as he used to play Strangers in the Night and could never, never reach the top note and there would always, always be a pause before he attempted it and failed. It was very Father Ted) and all of which he would play first thing on a Saturday morning. Unbelievably he was topped by the people that followed, who swiftly became our nemesis, nemesisses, nemesees... anyway. An Asian couple who had huge groups over every night for dinner, which would begin when I was going to bed. They managed to be very noisy when it was just the two of them as well; her voice gave me the shivers. There was also the fact that MuleBoy couldn't cope at all and became incredibly angry. I'd managed to live with it and zoned out a lot of the noise but MuleBoy would rail at me for not joining him in being incredibly angry. When I'd actually succeeded in getting to sleep, say, that got rather wearing.
I'm also concerned about the cats. Big Blue, bless her socks, is putting up with the cats coming back to live with me despite being allergic but I'm worried that it may not work out. Also, they're going from living in houses to living in a flat with no enclosed garden, so is it fair on them to give them less space to play in?
I guess my last worry is just about learning to look after myself again - food, money, bills, chores etc. MuleBoy did almost all the chores when we lived together and I barely do very much at all at Mum and Dad's. I've just relied on the fact that with both, I've been in full time work where they haven't and could lean on them heavily in that respect. With Big Blue's proper important job, with added minion, I don't think that's something I can get away with, which means rotas and schedules and things.
On the plus side, we are planning to have a pirate housewarming party. I think about that and all my fears go out the window. Phew.
*It was a tortoise but it could well have BEEN a spider
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Time Waits for Norman
Random title, I know, guess the reference. Challenge of the week.
This week is kind of a big deal for me, although I've been keeping it a bit quiet, unusually. Perhaps because it shouldn't be, or because it really isn't in everyone else's life. But it's been a year since the structures of my adult life were removed and I was sent crashing to the ground. I've been thinking through, day by day, what was happening this time last year. Today was the first day of the break. I remember the mundanities - separating the CDs and DVDs, ringing the wedding dress shop to cancel my fitting, ringing my parents, packing a suitcase - but it gets harder and harder to remember exactly how I felt. I remember crying endlessly, being so shocked and upset at one stage that I hyperventilated, sleeping for about 15 hours a day as emotional exhaustion hit me, but not how it felt to be there at that exact time. Although that must be a form of preservation, if I were able to recreate that feeling any time then I would never really grow away from it, however useful misery on tap would be for an actor.
It's been a strange year, all told. I have rediscovered myself, however stupid that may sound. MuleBoy and I had a conversation not too long before we broke up about how we'd changed each other. He was proud that he felt I'd changed a lot, becoming more cynical and negative where he had remained the same. That conversation made me really sad. For a start that he didn't feel I had had any effect on him at all after six years and also that he was so proud of what was a pretty depressing achievement on his part. I guess this year has been about me throwing off the shackles of MuleBoy's negativity and getting back to positive, optimistic Kitten. Obviously I am not the same as I was, for a start I'm 28 not 21 and I understand that things like growing older can impact on one's world view, but I feel more like myself now than I have for a really long time.
And today is a good day. I am meeting up with my soon-to-be-housemate, Big Blue, for an excited chat and giggle about our new place and after that I'll be seeing my new boyfriend, who shall be known henceforth as ToyBoy. Although I will remember 17th July as the day that something ended, it feels also like the day when something else began.
This week is kind of a big deal for me, although I've been keeping it a bit quiet, unusually. Perhaps because it shouldn't be, or because it really isn't in everyone else's life. But it's been a year since the structures of my adult life were removed and I was sent crashing to the ground. I've been thinking through, day by day, what was happening this time last year. Today was the first day of the break. I remember the mundanities - separating the CDs and DVDs, ringing the wedding dress shop to cancel my fitting, ringing my parents, packing a suitcase - but it gets harder and harder to remember exactly how I felt. I remember crying endlessly, being so shocked and upset at one stage that I hyperventilated, sleeping for about 15 hours a day as emotional exhaustion hit me, but not how it felt to be there at that exact time. Although that must be a form of preservation, if I were able to recreate that feeling any time then I would never really grow away from it, however useful misery on tap would be for an actor.
It's been a strange year, all told. I have rediscovered myself, however stupid that may sound. MuleBoy and I had a conversation not too long before we broke up about how we'd changed each other. He was proud that he felt I'd changed a lot, becoming more cynical and negative where he had remained the same. That conversation made me really sad. For a start that he didn't feel I had had any effect on him at all after six years and also that he was so proud of what was a pretty depressing achievement on his part. I guess this year has been about me throwing off the shackles of MuleBoy's negativity and getting back to positive, optimistic Kitten. Obviously I am not the same as I was, for a start I'm 28 not 21 and I understand that things like growing older can impact on one's world view, but I feel more like myself now than I have for a really long time.
And today is a good day. I am meeting up with my soon-to-be-housemate, Big Blue, for an excited chat and giggle about our new place and after that I'll be seeing my new boyfriend, who shall be known henceforth as ToyBoy. Although I will remember 17th July as the day that something ended, it feels also like the day when something else began.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Feeling Peculiar
I have been having funny feelings for a while now. It's very peculiar. It's kind of as though I've been picked up and shaken and put back down all jiggled-up. I guess you could chart my emotional and psychological reactions over the year on some kind of map and be quite impressed by the uniformity of its ups and downs but when you live it, it is difficult not to be rather startled by each new crest and dip. I'm quite enjoying the funny feelings, mainly because I am back to feeling as though I am actually 17 again. And I particularly liked being 17. But it means that I don't tend to be entirely in control of my actions and have made some decisions based on how I feel rather than what is the most practical or sensible choice. It is not like me to be quite so spontaneous but it has already led to good things. The pragmatic choices that I've been making, out of necessity to give me some hope and focus, haven't really fit in with my perspective on life and what I really want. To be fair, it has taken me a really long time to decide what that is but I feel that now I can start living and enjoying things on a much more day-to-day basis, rather than planning for stuff I don't want as much as I originally thought I did.
I realise that this is quite a cryptic post but I seem to be talking about twelve different things at once and any clarification would undoubtedly turn into a list. But in case it isn't already apparent, I'm quite happy at the moment, if a little peculiar
I realise that this is quite a cryptic post but I seem to be talking about twelve different things at once and any clarification would undoubtedly turn into a list. But in case it isn't already apparent, I'm quite happy at the moment, if a little peculiar
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Thank you!
Thank you to the very generous people who sponsored me, you are all amazing!
Big Sis and I managed to complete the course in 47 minutes, which was quite an achievement as we weren't expecting to actually run and ended up surprising ourselves with how fun it was. The feeling of the day was amazing - surrounded by strong, brave, supportive and friendly women who were all doing something they believed in. For something that could be a sad day because we were remembering those people we have lost and those who are suffering with cancer, it was a hugely uplifting experience. I think it's an opportunity to feel that you are doing something tangible to fight back. So next year, we plan to do more; keep fighting, keep running and keep remembering.
Big Sis and I managed to complete the course in 47 minutes, which was quite an achievement as we weren't expecting to actually run and ended up surprising ourselves with how fun it was. The feeling of the day was amazing - surrounded by strong, brave, supportive and friendly women who were all doing something they believed in. For something that could be a sad day because we were remembering those people we have lost and those who are suffering with cancer, it was a hugely uplifting experience. I think it's an opportunity to feel that you are doing something tangible to fight back. So next year, we plan to do more; keep fighting, keep running and keep remembering.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Sponsor Me!
Please give me money for racing for actual life! No racing for minor illnesses and injuries for me, I race so that others may live. I say race, I will amble for life.
But seriously, the Race for Life is the event in support of Cancer Research. It's a very important cause and I would really appreciate your support. Please follow this link to my online sponsorship page. As ever, I am leaving it to the last minute but you can still donate even after the event, which will take place on Sunday.
Thank you!
But seriously, the Race for Life is the event in support of Cancer Research. It's a very important cause and I would really appreciate your support. Please follow this link to my online sponsorship page. As ever, I am leaving it to the last minute but you can still donate even after the event, which will take place on Sunday.
Thank you!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Acting
Is a funny old malarkey and no mistake. I have been ruminating and cogitating since my course and the play about what exactly I want from it. The showcase day was quite interesting, in that it was very long and a real break from any kind of norm. Spending hours and hours doing nothing with people you don't know at all well is quite bizarre. I told the mad South African woman that I loved her, because she laughs at everything (and also told me that the mad Method woman had singled me out as "an actress", some people have it apparently), I ended up quite liking Doubling Girl after finding her hugely annoying for weeks, I rolled my eyes endlessly at the procession of beautiful girls singling out flaws on their perfect skin, I posed in the mirror with my scene partner as we tried to be as unattractive as hugely possible.
I was quite fascinated, after watching the scenes of the morning group during a period of nothing to do, by how much I had lucked out in the scene department. I had grizzled and groused about the fact that I had received a scene where I was playing an older woman, complained that all the other girls got to be ingenues and femme fatales. However, the fact that I was doing a Pinter play and what turned out to be a very funny little scene from The Birthday Party meant that I stood out as I was almost the only person who got to play an actual character. Everyone else just went on stage and played a version of themselves. I do feel that I did well and definitely was one of, if not, the best of the night. However, I had one agent approach me at the end and she then went round and spoke to several other members of the group. She was part of a co-op agency which means that she is as desperate for actors as actors are for agents. I've since heard that several of the other members of the group who are nice people and hands down, drop-dead, gorgeous but quite frankly rubbish have been picked up by actual proper agencies. And that really makes me wonder what the point is. It really isn't how good you are at acting, that's probably the least important thing, it's how lucky, how good you look, who you know, how ambitious and confident you are, with how good you are coming in in last place.
It's interesting because it has made me re-evaluate what I'm doing and why I'm doing it again. After Bronte, which I found to be a hugely satisfying artistic experience, I re-evaluated again. Having spoken to someone recently with no experience of acting and tried to explain why I do it, despite being shy and awkward (I know, I know, difficult to believe), I could only describe it as a different way of being shy, a different way of putting up a barrier between myself and the world. When I assume a character it's with relief because I don't have to be me any more. It was summed up beautifully for me as "hiding in plain sight".
I was quite fascinated, after watching the scenes of the morning group during a period of nothing to do, by how much I had lucked out in the scene department. I had grizzled and groused about the fact that I had received a scene where I was playing an older woman, complained that all the other girls got to be ingenues and femme fatales. However, the fact that I was doing a Pinter play and what turned out to be a very funny little scene from The Birthday Party meant that I stood out as I was almost the only person who got to play an actual character. Everyone else just went on stage and played a version of themselves. I do feel that I did well and definitely was one of, if not, the best of the night. However, I had one agent approach me at the end and she then went round and spoke to several other members of the group. She was part of a co-op agency which means that she is as desperate for actors as actors are for agents. I've since heard that several of the other members of the group who are nice people and hands down, drop-dead, gorgeous but quite frankly rubbish have been picked up by actual proper agencies. And that really makes me wonder what the point is. It really isn't how good you are at acting, that's probably the least important thing, it's how lucky, how good you look, who you know, how ambitious and confident you are, with how good you are coming in in last place.
It's interesting because it has made me re-evaluate what I'm doing and why I'm doing it again. After Bronte, which I found to be a hugely satisfying artistic experience, I re-evaluated again. Having spoken to someone recently with no experience of acting and tried to explain why I do it, despite being shy and awkward (I know, I know, difficult to believe), I could only describe it as a different way of being shy, a different way of putting up a barrier between myself and the world. When I assume a character it's with relief because I don't have to be me any more. It was summed up beautifully for me as "hiding in plain sight".
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Then again, maybe not
I'd probably be rather bored, after all. Hermitry isn't the exciting whirlwind of fun it is occasionally made out to be, you know. Apparently it can be quite difficult to find pizza/pancakes/pyrotechnics. Or so I have been reliably informed.
Monday, April 07, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Who's That Girl?
Okay, so it has been requested that I divulge more of the details of my extra-special and exciting acting class. I have resisted the last few weeks as I have been struggling with a major concern. I went in the week after my Method triumph and there, in our little studio, was a video camera. And a TV. My heart sunk and remained in the region of my toes for the whole session. I felt completely out of it with the other members of the group and fell apart a bit every time I went in front of the camera. I also found out that I may have to change my name as I've never really liked it and it shows, apparently. I'm considering Wholahay.
My struggle with my appearance plays no little part in my fear and concern regarding being captured on film. But the thing that really bothers me is being confronted with someone who is not me. That woman on film is not me. I resent that it is me. I do not look like that and I do not sound like that. Seriously, who the hell is it? As anyone who has ever been backstage with me on a play, or indeed anywhere where there's a mirror, can testify, I am a little obsessed with my mirror image. I can quite happily make faces at myself for hours. I have a wide and varied number of faces that I pull, and I get really crazy if I have different hair and make-up, I enjoy seeing my face change and look different. But never, in my obsessive study of my own face, do I see the girl on film. I guess what freaks me out the most is the realisation that the mental image I have of myself is not what other people see.
For me, it is kind of hard that, if I want to do this as a job, I have to get used to this. Actually, if I want this as a hobby, I have to get used to this. Because there is no way I can get more control over what she looks like and the way that she moves if I don't study her and try to correct it. I can feel that I'm doing it right but how do I know that I'm communicating it if I don't look at what I'm doing wrong? And that's the worst thing, it's like having to eat fruit or stand on high things in order to be better at what I do. I am forced to confront something I really, really hate and part of me wants to cry or have a tantrum about it. But the perfectionist part knows I'm going to have to get over it and she is both a pedant and really, really bossy.
As a sidenote to this, I feel I have to make the note that you are lovely readers and friends to try to make me feel better about the way I look. But I do not say it because I need reassurance. I say it because it is part of the narrative.
My struggle with my appearance plays no little part in my fear and concern regarding being captured on film. But the thing that really bothers me is being confronted with someone who is not me. That woman on film is not me. I resent that it is me. I do not look like that and I do not sound like that. Seriously, who the hell is it? As anyone who has ever been backstage with me on a play, or indeed anywhere where there's a mirror, can testify, I am a little obsessed with my mirror image. I can quite happily make faces at myself for hours. I have a wide and varied number of faces that I pull, and I get really crazy if I have different hair and make-up, I enjoy seeing my face change and look different. But never, in my obsessive study of my own face, do I see the girl on film. I guess what freaks me out the most is the realisation that the mental image I have of myself is not what other people see.
For me, it is kind of hard that, if I want to do this as a job, I have to get used to this. Actually, if I want this as a hobby, I have to get used to this. Because there is no way I can get more control over what she looks like and the way that she moves if I don't study her and try to correct it. I can feel that I'm doing it right but how do I know that I'm communicating it if I don't look at what I'm doing wrong? And that's the worst thing, it's like having to eat fruit or stand on high things in order to be better at what I do. I am forced to confront something I really, really hate and part of me wants to cry or have a tantrum about it. But the perfectionist part knows I'm going to have to get over it and she is both a pedant and really, really bossy.
As a sidenote to this, I feel I have to make the note that you are lovely readers and friends to try to make me feel better about the way I look. But I do not say it because I need reassurance. I say it because it is part of the narrative.
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