I've been a glutton. I have paid no attention to rules. Christmas has been a very delectably greedy holiday, and it is time to get back to business.
This means: playreading until I die, building that god-awful set for school starting tomorrow, getting back into dance classes, adhering to normal people sleeping hours (did I mention that 2 nights ago I went to bed at 7:30 AM and last night at 5am? Not okay) and losing 20 lbs. I can do this.
It's going to be a big 'ol bear. I'm built muscularly and I really, really love food. But this is about taking care of myself. Toning and eating the right things--things that will make me feel healthier and more energized than the inordinate amount of espresso I consume weekly.
So, it begins. Today, I vow to read at least two plays (and some of my Louisa May Alcott biography as a reward), blog about them, get my drivers license, visit my favorite Vietnamese eyebrow-waxing lady Myloc, and eat (less) and well.
Wish me luck!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Goings On
I love the holidays.
I love the holidays.
I love the holidays.
I am in happiness bliss right now. I have amazing friends, no regimented sleeping hours, and minimal responsibilities. Happiness sublime! Boxing Day at Mark's was so fun and fabulous. Had my blog quoted back to me last night. It was fantastically awkward and embarrassing. Now preparing to read some magical plays, my Louisa May Alcott biography, then frolic with friends!
I love the holidays.
I love the holidays.
I am in happiness bliss right now. I have amazing friends, no regimented sleeping hours, and minimal responsibilities. Happiness sublime! Boxing Day at Mark's was so fun and fabulous. Had my blog quoted back to me last night. It was fantastically awkward and embarrassing. Now preparing to read some magical plays, my Louisa May Alcott biography, then frolic with friends!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Dad's "Katie Beth Stories"
From the time I was 10 months old to the time I was five years old, my dad kept a mini journal of my silly doings and what I was like as a small child. Maybe I'm self centered for this curiosity, but I really wonder what I was like as a child. Judging from these stories that I have just now read at 20 years old, I was always mischievous and precocious. I think my little tricks and quirks were probably far more charming as a small child.
A couple of my favorites....
May 1991: She watches movies serially. The first movie she really watched was Mary Poppins. We probably watched it two entire times a day for a month (but always in bits and pieces.) At the end when Julie Andrews is floating away back to the sky, Katie Beth would say, "Bye Poppins." [Julie, me love you long time. We're going on 18 years now.]
August/Sept 1991: She would toddle in each morning. Kay was pregnant and usually still asleep. I would have "Business Morning" on and Katie Beth would trot over and say, "Watch news." She would sit next to me for 10-15 minutes watching business news.
April 8, 1992: When Katie Beth gets in trouble or gets her feelings hurt, she'll say "I'm sad of you."...She is a bundle of energy, as always. She takes her time waking up in the morning. Puffalump in one arm, she wakes up slowly. As I told Kay, though, the "Crankiness has a certain charm."
May 1, 1992: I said, "Daddy loves Katie Beth." She said, "Why thank you, daddy." [I love this one. I was 2.] KB wanted to eat and I was dealing with Abby. She said, "Daddy, you go relax ad I will eat." (What does this two year and ten month old child know about relaxing?)
May 12, 1991: We put Katie Beth to bed these days and about five minutes later we hear her quietly rattling outside our door. We "ignored" her last night and she spend five minutes working her way to our bed (with about five puffalumps) When she was at the foot of the bed resting her head on it, I saidk, "Katie beth, what are you doing out of bed?" She rolled her eyes and said, "Well, let me tell you. Uh....probably, I was scared." She then looked at us hopefully to see if we would buy it. (Nope.)
May 31, 1992: KB used a few bad words over the weekend. The worst was "Stupid" We asked her where she learned these words and she said, "Grandmama." [This CRACKS me up. If anyone knows my grandmother, you know how ludicrous this is!!]
June 23, 1992: I was sitting on the couch holding Abby and "flying her" over to Katie Beth, who was sitting with Puff on the couch. I put Abby's face (mouth) to Katie Beth's and said, "Give Katie Beth a kiss." I waited for a moment. KB got a surprised and hurt look and said, "She ate my face."
June 27, 1992: John Robert was outside mowing. Katie Beth, playing inside, "tooted" several times in a row. She said, "I sound like John Robert's lawnmower." [OMG, really, small Katie Beth?]
September 26, 1992: "Cruella Deville is not a good Christian, but I like to watch her."
March 10, 1993: Kb loved our trip to San Antonio. She talked non-stop the whole trip. She had to do everything; ride a boat on the Riverwalk, jump on her hotel bed, ride a camel at the zoo, feed the ducks. She loved it. She sobbed as we were driving away, "Goodbye Embassy Suites. I had fun there."
December 6, 1993: The toilet in our room broke and Kay had the top off. Katie Beth saw it and said, "Did you have a really big poop Mommy?"
April 5, 1995: I am saying goodnight prayers with KB. I Say, "Thank you God for all the things that Ktaie Beth can do: ride her bike, do art pictures, read, do numbers..." KB breaks in, "and write"...so I say "and write" and after a few seconds she says, "very well." Oh, yes. That Katharine. Full of confidence.
A couple of my favorites....
May 1991: She watches movies serially. The first movie she really watched was Mary Poppins. We probably watched it two entire times a day for a month (but always in bits and pieces.) At the end when Julie Andrews is floating away back to the sky, Katie Beth would say, "Bye Poppins." [Julie, me love you long time. We're going on 18 years now.]
August/Sept 1991: She would toddle in each morning. Kay was pregnant and usually still asleep. I would have "Business Morning" on and Katie Beth would trot over and say, "Watch news." She would sit next to me for 10-15 minutes watching business news.
April 8, 1992: When Katie Beth gets in trouble or gets her feelings hurt, she'll say "I'm sad of you."...She is a bundle of energy, as always. She takes her time waking up in the morning. Puffalump in one arm, she wakes up slowly. As I told Kay, though, the "Crankiness has a certain charm."
May 1, 1992: I said, "Daddy loves Katie Beth." She said, "Why thank you, daddy." [I love this one. I was 2.] KB wanted to eat and I was dealing with Abby. She said, "Daddy, you go relax ad I will eat." (What does this two year and ten month old child know about relaxing?)
May 12, 1991: We put Katie Beth to bed these days and about five minutes later we hear her quietly rattling outside our door. We "ignored" her last night and she spend five minutes working her way to our bed (with about five puffalumps) When she was at the foot of the bed resting her head on it, I saidk, "Katie beth, what are you doing out of bed?" She rolled her eyes and said, "Well, let me tell you. Uh....probably, I was scared." She then looked at us hopefully to see if we would buy it. (Nope.)
May 31, 1992: KB used a few bad words over the weekend. The worst was "Stupid" We asked her where she learned these words and she said, "Grandmama." [This CRACKS me up. If anyone knows my grandmother, you know how ludicrous this is!!]
June 23, 1992: I was sitting on the couch holding Abby and "flying her" over to Katie Beth, who was sitting with Puff on the couch. I put Abby's face (mouth) to Katie Beth's and said, "Give Katie Beth a kiss." I waited for a moment. KB got a surprised and hurt look and said, "She ate my face."
June 27, 1992: John Robert was outside mowing. Katie Beth, playing inside, "tooted" several times in a row. She said, "I sound like John Robert's lawnmower." [OMG, really, small Katie Beth?]
September 26, 1992: "Cruella Deville is not a good Christian, but I like to watch her."
March 10, 1993: Kb loved our trip to San Antonio. She talked non-stop the whole trip. She had to do everything; ride a boat on the Riverwalk, jump on her hotel bed, ride a camel at the zoo, feed the ducks. She loved it. She sobbed as we were driving away, "Goodbye Embassy Suites. I had fun there."
December 6, 1993: The toilet in our room broke and Kay had the top off. Katie Beth saw it and said, "Did you have a really big poop Mommy?"
April 5, 1995: I am saying goodnight prayers with KB. I Say, "Thank you God for all the things that Ktaie Beth can do: ride her bike, do art pictures, read, do numbers..." KB breaks in, "and write"...so I say "and write" and after a few seconds she says, "very well." Oh, yes. That Katharine. Full of confidence.
Third Grade Worksheet: Oct. 7, 1999
So apparently I did afterall entertain the idea of being an actress earlier. (This must have been a fleeting thing, because for the longest time I wanted to be a book editor/publisher...then a composer...then an orchestral conductor...then a supervisor..then arts admin...yada yada.)
I AM (fill in the blank)
I am enthusiastic about many things
I wonder if I will be an actress
I hear the rustling leaves in autumn
I see visions of the future [who did I think I was? Robert Frost?]
I want to be an actress
I am sure about myself.
I pretend to be an actress.
I feel a breeze. [And where might that be coming from, little Katie Beth?]
I touch the autumn leaves. [Again, with the leaves.
I worry about my friends when their feelings are hurt.
I cry when I look at onions. [Smartass.]
I am happy about my life. [Third grade was a good year.]
I understand my friends' feelings.
I say thoughtful things.
I dream about my future. [Some things never change.]
I try to be nice to others.
I hope that I am nice. [This is apparently a concern.]
I am peaceful.
Clearly, I was a punk.
I AM (fill in the blank)
I am enthusiastic about many things
I wonder if I will be an actress
I hear the rustling leaves in autumn
I see visions of the future [who did I think I was? Robert Frost?]
I want to be an actress
I am sure about myself.
I pretend to be an actress.
I feel a breeze. [And where might that be coming from, little Katie Beth?]
I touch the autumn leaves. [Again, with the leaves.
I worry about my friends when their feelings are hurt.
I cry when I look at onions. [Smartass.]
I am happy about my life. [Third grade was a good year.]
I understand my friends' feelings.
I say thoughtful things.
I dream about my future. [Some things never change.]
I try to be nice to others.
I hope that I am nice. [This is apparently a concern.]
I am peaceful.
Clearly, I was a punk.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The Christmas Thank-You Note
Alright, kiddos: it's that time again.
Last year, I compiled a ginormous thank you note to 50 people--from acquaintances to dear friends. A couple of them found it, I imagine most of them don't know it exists. Regardless, it's just a giant virtual thank you to all of the people who have done something spectacular for me. There are a lot of you out there.
I'm not going to repeat any from last year, so if you wanna check out the 2008 Rendition, go here: http://katharinesmusings.blogspot.com/2008/12/totally-random-for-christmas-part-1.html
This year's will inevitably be a bit shorter. Last year was my first one, so it was 19 years of thank you's. This is just from the last year and I'm not repeating unless absolutely necessary, so here are some of the individuals who greatly impacted my lovely 2009.
The Reason for doing this? A friend of mine from high school--Brendan Court--wrote something he loved about every single one of his friends when he was a junior and senior in high school. He was the most compassionate person I have ever known and had the most incredible zeal for life. He passed away in a car accident his senior year, and it broke all of our hearts. But at his funeral, his sister mentioned that he had a list of almost 500 friends and what he loved about all of them. That has always left a remarkable impression on me. I'm definitely not Brendan, but I do make an effort to let people know how much they mean to me on occasion. If my love for you seems excessive or copious, I apologize. I absolutely adore people and human connection. I really, really do. And this is (hopefully) a testament to that.
EDIT: I re-posted the 65 from last year. Scroll down to the bottom to see this year's additions.
Christmas Thank You List: Heroes, Best Friends, and Notable Folks
1. Lola Dill. Piano is my greatest stress release, passion, and channel for all things musical. Without my ability to play piano, I would go crazy and so much of my life thus far would not have happened. More than this, thanks for spending endless hours hounding me about musicality, the curvature of the fingers, and the placement of the body on the piano bench. It’s making my career.
2. Kyle McLaran. For taking risks, for embracing differences, and for continually surprising me with how wonderful your quirks and crazy ideas are.
3. Emily Gray. For teaching me so much about Shakespeare and dramaturgy, for how to truly direct a show, and for being such a brilliant model of what an actress should be.
4. Matt Gray. For the one time you watched Shrew rehearsal and perfectly verbally communicated all my thoughts/critiques and more in a way the actors internalized and understood. You taught me so much in the thirty minutes you spoke, you have no idea.
5. Ed Long. For being a crazy brilliant genius who taught me an insane amount about conducting, musical theatre, classical music, art, the history of Hockaday, and how to tell a story. Even more importantly, for teaching me to capitalize on my passions and pursue them all.
6. BonnieJean Coleman. For setting a goal for me as a pianist to be able to transpose anything, and to hear someone sing and immediately know what to play for them, how to play it, and in the correct key.
7. Beth Wortley. For being a second mother, being the ultimate supporter, being an older version of my endlessly overcommitted and multitasking self, and for appreciating the true class and wonder of a good old fashioned musical. Also, for being a remarkable choreographer and teaching me the importance of a real vision in theatre and dance.
8. Susan Hubbard. For teaching me how one woman is capable of running an entire show and there is no excuse not to complete a task in theatre. One person really is capable of running lights, sound, costumes, backstage, crew, cast, auditions, rehearsals, blocking, musical direction, and choreography.
9. John Weeden. For being a dreamer and helping me realize that’s a part of me and having those huge dreams is more than okay. For embracing and helping me build up my passion for the arts, arts advocacy, and arts administration. For causing me to desperately go live in London.
10. Mr. Maloney. For starting up Odyssey of the Mind and Destination Imagination, and starting this crazy theatrical journey. For helping me write, as a fourth grader, a crazy Holocaustal version of Macbeth and teaching me the difference between intelligence and wisdom. I’ll never forget it.
11. Trigger Butler. For basically being a theatrical character 24/7 and turning all things English into great theatre. For having faith in me. For making me strive to be better in an environment that was almost too easy. For teaching me how to properly shake someone’s hand.
12. Dr. Venable. For giving me passion in language. English, French, Spanish, German, it doesn’t matter. Because of your classes in elementary school, I knew I loved written and spoken word and would enjoy the study of it forever.
13. Mrs. Lee. For being the most kindhearted person I know and for practically crying when I gave you a build-your-own-gingerbread house. You taught me the importance of a thoughtful Christmas gift, 1000 Chinese characters, and the greatest smile I’ve ever seen.
14. Brendan Court. For being a guardian angel and probably subconsciously being inspiration for the list I’m making right now. A few months before you passed, you made a list of all of your friends and your favorite things about them. At your funeral, I remember Abby mentioning that list and how crazy it was seeing how many friends you had and seeing how much you really cared about them all. It’s an incredible thing, truly. I still think of you all the time and wonder what your crazy, kindhearted spirit would do in certain situations in my life.
15. Ginny Seeley. For teaching me how to be a best friend.
16. Katie Specht. For teaching me that I would never be the mature one of our group of friends, but that it was okay cause you totally had it covered!
17. Roseanne Blair. For sitting on the Circus Wagon and writing and plotting crazy schemes and analyzing the social nature of fourth graders. For introducing me to Sixpence NonetheRicher, Rocket (the computer game), incense, Hairspray (the original one that we watched at your fourth grade birthday party) and pretty much being my literary soulmate.
18. Robbie Kessler. For being my first boyfriend and for (ever so appropriately) dancing ballet with me on our first date when we ate parfaits (which recipe came out of an American GirlDoll cookbook) at my dining room table. And saw Harriet the spy—a movie which changed my view of composition notebooks forever.
19. Elizabeth Moran. For enduring the crap that ridiculous eleven year olds put you (and the rest of us) through and for turning out to be a really awesome person while they’re still pretty clueless.
20. Abby Lichliter. For that time when you visited Hockaday and I introduced you as my friend and you quickly corrected me that you were not and the subsequent lesson of how to introduce people. Particularly those with a particular view of themselves. Also, for hours of Mario Kart and dancing to the Dixie Chicks in socks. And watching PG-13 movies in the workout room.
21. Ms. Gwen. Who taught me that dance was not worth it if it was going to be totally and completely utterly miserable. And that really, it’s not dancing if it’s not joyous. Also, to never, ever lock up a fourth grader post-mono and put their recital music on repeat in a rehearsal room until they learned it. Reflecting upon this ten years later, I kind of want to tell you that it scarred me and wasn’t okay. Hmm. Moving on.
22. Katie Powell. For having amazing stage presence and charisma and truly causing me to want to tap dance and be in DBC tap company.
23. Karen Stanford. For teaching me how to tap—utterly and completely. Best tap teacher I’ve ever had and I’m immensely grateful.
24. Hockaday. For beating me down to nothing only so I could rise up completely.
25. Meredith McAlister. For forcing me to be a director and giving me an incredible actress to work with. Last Five Years is still one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life.
26. John Glass Aldous. For making me feel remarkably stupid for not knowing 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in Mockingbird Station at the beginning of junior year. You and Lizzie Cochran were the catalyst for my modern/contemporary musical theatre freakout. And for being my gay Scottish husband.
27. Allison Klion. For INFIABSIA and teaching me to love the Beatles and classic rock.
28. Bayla Gottesman. For being my other half for the better part of my time at Hockaday, and for being the most inspirational dancer I have ever seen in my life. You light up the stage when you perform, and I hope to be half as charismatic and passionate on stage as you are.
29. Julie Smith. For being one of the most kindhearted people I know—genuinely.
30. Sarah Satinsky. For never letting the bad stuff get you down. It’s really unbelievable and is quite remarkable to a drama queen like me.
31. Kim Starfield. For taking me to France and for being the ultimate best friend. For teaching me maturity and patience. For being my counselor.
32. Nicole Bullock. For unintentionally gearing me up for what Hockaday would be when your mother started quizzing you on the capitals of countries in the Middle East in seventh grade on the way home from school.
33. Mrs. Rose. For letting me know at a very young age that it’s perfectly alright to be friends with a teacher.
34. Mrs. Westfall. For informing me of the importance of makeup.
35. Mrs. Kohl. For informing me that I never want to take Latin, and it’s not worth burning bridges out of bitterness or making students miserable over trivial matters.
36. Mrs. Case. For taking so much time to help a munchkin with the spelling bee.
37. Mrs. Snow. For teaching me to write fiction creatively.
38. Mrs. Cunningham. For being the most patient teacher I ever had.
39. Mrs. Broussard. For listening to musical theatre in advisory and being patient in listening to my middle school woes.
40. Bess Milner. For being an incredibly patient friend in the worst phase of my life, teaching me what great writing is, teaching me about Catholicism, and being a B*Witched enthusiast.
41. Will Arbery. For being my first love and teaching me more than you’ll probably ever know. My love for classic film and appreciation for great movies completely stems from what you taught me in 8th-10th grade. For spending hours every night talking to me and wondering about the world—religion, politics, and our place in it. With you, my tiny existence as a fourteen year old broadened immensely. You taught me to love letter writing. I never really got to thank you the way I wanted to and you probably won’t ever read this, but thank you.
42. Stephen Fox. You are, hands-down, the most sincere person I know. You care about people so much and absolutely deserve unbelievable happiness. You stayed friends with me despite all middle school and high school shenanigans, through the times we ignored each other, when we dated (the first…sixth…eight…tenth…however many times) and after we broke up. You’re a great musician, totally brilliant, a wonderful friend, and a remarkable guy. You’ve given me more lessons in forgiveness and compassion than you’ll ever know.
43. Elizabeth Stevenson. You unintentionally taught me to be nice to underclassmen, regardless. Condescension is totally useless, frivolous, and frustrating.
44. Skylar Harrison. You taught me how incredible the power of determination is. You are truly remarkable.
45. Monroe Lacerte. To this day, I think you might be the happiest and wittiest person I know.
46. Lauren Valletutti. You taught me sass.
47. Jourdan Hurst. You are such a kindred spirit in so many ways. We’ve been through so many of the same things and I love that you maintain the sweetest disposition ever despite what life throws at you. You’re one of my real-life heroes.
48. Maxey Whitehead. For giving an unreal performance in the Crucible several years ago and really making a huge impression of what a great actress should be to me when it was still a totally foreign hobby.
49. Rachel Tamez. For teaching me about college.
50. Sarah Endres. For teaching me that I am not cut-out to be a roommate but that you can be wonderful friends without living well together!
51. Leah Taylor. For introducing me to lez-rock. And for giving me a reason to chase you around Glassell for twenty minutes.
52. Tracy Leigh. For teaching me to be a diva.
53. Darius Anthony Robinson. For teaching me passion.
54. Buff Shurr. For casting me in Thoroughly Modern Millie when I auditioned for it completely on a whim. And for having patience with a remarkably slow 17/18 year old.
55. Rachel Harpool. For showing me true ambition.
56. Laura McLain. For being the best, best friend in the world. For spending hours into the wee morning discussing life and playing the piano. For sharing a passion in music. For being the sweetest person on earth. For having faith in me. For letting me be your friend and accompanist. For staying friends with me since I’ve been home. For still making an effort. For being just plain awesome
57. Jason Villareal. For being a fabulous Indian/Asian and just being a dear sweetheart.
58. Samantha. For teaching me that hostility is never the answer and some drama just isn’t worth the energy.
59. Andrew Campbell. For teaching me that it’s all gonna be okay.
60. Kevin Vichyastit. For being a buddy I know I’ll keep forever and travel with when we’re both rich and famous!
61. Allie Hayes. For being an over-analyzer. For being a brilliant writer. For being a friend.
62. Ben Kitchens. For enduring my quirks and spending a whole summer with me. It’s still a summer that hasn’t been beat.
63. Allen Pierce. For teaching me that it is possible to have a straight male platonic best friend! And for being a darn good one at that.
64. Joshua Doss. For Nemo.
2009 List
1. Southern Methodist University (Meadows School of the Arts)--for giving me enough money to attend, for letting me transfer, for kicking my butt daily. For challenging me--something I craved after a two year hiatus from challenge post Hockadaisy graduation.
2. Kristin Dausch--for being a fellow true Cancer, for being one of those people you meet and know immediately that you will be friends, for giving your everything to everything. Your passion is so inspirational to me.
3. Baby Heidi--for teaching me to absolutely love babies. This is something I certainly never imagined occurring. Thank you for making me second guess the fact that I don't want children. (I think.) You have brought so much love into my life that I didn't even know I could have.
4. Patty and Buff--for teaching me how much politics should play into casting. For thoroughly educating me on what the bounds and limitations of a producer are/should be.
5. Jay Gardner--for being my FB chat buddy, for gabbing and arguing endlessly about all things musical theater, for always encouraging me.
6. James McQuillen--for being a flat-out genius and for being someone I greatly look up to.
7. C Nicholas--for teaching me how a choreographer should run a rehearsal.
8. Paula Morelan--for being fierce. Toughest broad I know.
9. Jackbear--for being my best friend for sixteen years. And even though you're a deaf, blind grandpa of a gay dog, I absolutely adore you and don't know what I'll do without you when you go. You're my oldest and dearest friend.
10. Abbey Siegworth--for setting a standard is so impressive that it seems unreachable. For giving me a terrifying and deliciously intimidating goal.
11. Madam Buckley--that some people can view the same performance of a highly respected performer and gather COMPLETELY different opinions/thoughts about it.
12. Bill Lengfelder--for being one of the sickest badasses I know, and for teaching me fascinating habits and aspects of my movement in performance.
13. Kelly McCain--for giving me the gift of modern dance this year. I have so much gratitude that I currently cannot express!
14. Kevin Moriarty--for taking the Theater Center in a brilliant direction, for getting people excited, and for teaching me how to introduce a new idea to a community.
15. Stan Graner--for being so passionate about what you do--even after it's not something new. Sounds fundamental, but that was a real revelation to me, and I think it says something very wonderful and telling about you as an actor and a human being.
16. Willy Welch--I am ecstatic we got to do a show together. You really are family, and I love you dearly.
17. Sonny Franks--You can play more instruments than any individual should. So much to admire in you.
18. Cayman Mitchell--prodigiously talented and intelligent, and all-around good guy. What's not to love?
19. Grandmama--for loving so much and for providing me a hero. I love you more than anyone else in this world.
20. Summer Kenny--thank you for your ridiculous extension.
21. Truett--I was the worst kind of new student--the latch onto your side, insecure, nervous type. You were the absolute most generous and lovely friend I ever could have asked for. You are simply amazing and I love you.
22. Lindsey--The development of our friendship has been one of the highlights of the last two years. While it was lovely having you in the same city, our friendship has turned into this fantastic disembodied old-school penpal thing. Somehow, the distance enriched our friendship. You provide incredible advice and listen to every complaint I ever have. I love you to the moon and back and am so grateful for your friendship. You're the best best friend I could ask for.
23. Steve Jones--for your enthusiasm, and for the conversation we had immediately following my first TheaterJones piece. You have my dream job, and you do it awfully well.
24. Bruce Coleman--I've never seen a director commit to a concept or visual image quite like you do--it's absolutely inspirational. Thank you for taking me on in Breathe--it was such a wonderful experience.
25. Wendy Welch--You've absolutely changed my life. There are people you meet or encounter who by happenstance do something that changes you forever; you have been one of those people for me. I never would have pursued theater if it hadn't been for you. You have been a mentor in every sense of the word and I have endless amounts of respect and affection for you. Thank you.
26. Marianne--You are another one of those beautiful people who quickly changed my life. You re-introduced the director in me and you encourage me in the craziest myriad of ways. I genuinely feel as though I've found a bit of a soul sister in you and I am terribly grateful for that. Also, you're a genius. Just thought I should re-remind you.
27. Thomas Renner--Your capacity to love is mind-boggling, and I am terribly envious of it. I love you and your excessive compassion for others and life--it's something I aspire to!
28. Adam Wright--for being the insane, brilliant genius of a pianist/arranger that you are. For being someone I can look up to. For being adamant about your convictions.
29. Abigail Leslie Gentsch--for being the best darn sister a girl could ask for. I am thrilled that we are starting to become friends rather than just fiendish sisters.
30. Elaine--for possibly being the most unlikely heroine and friend I've made this year. There's a great deal I've found to admire in you--wit, sarcasm, honesty, ballsiness--and I am terribly grateful that you've given me several TJ.com opportunities. You should keep pushing the book. Your writing in the blog is very different from your criticism--and it's really just wonderful. Anywho, thank you, thank you, thank you.
31. Cheryl--Words cannot adequately express how thankful I am for what you gave me during Sanders. Like Marianne said, I learned so freaking much from you watching you direct this show...it was so brilliant. I (like most of this community) am a bit awestruck by your abilities and passion for them, and awfully grateful to have had you in my life. You're a lovely spacepod mother.
That's all for now. I'll add as more come to me. Love you all. Merry Christmas
Last year, I compiled a ginormous thank you note to 50 people--from acquaintances to dear friends. A couple of them found it, I imagine most of them don't know it exists. Regardless, it's just a giant virtual thank you to all of the people who have done something spectacular for me. There are a lot of you out there.
I'm not going to repeat any from last year, so if you wanna check out the 2008 Rendition, go here: http://katharinesmusings.blogspot.com/2008/12/totally-random-for-christmas-part-1.html
This year's will inevitably be a bit shorter. Last year was my first one, so it was 19 years of thank you's. This is just from the last year and I'm not repeating unless absolutely necessary, so here are some of the individuals who greatly impacted my lovely 2009.
The Reason for doing this? A friend of mine from high school--Brendan Court--wrote something he loved about every single one of his friends when he was a junior and senior in high school. He was the most compassionate person I have ever known and had the most incredible zeal for life. He passed away in a car accident his senior year, and it broke all of our hearts. But at his funeral, his sister mentioned that he had a list of almost 500 friends and what he loved about all of them. That has always left a remarkable impression on me. I'm definitely not Brendan, but I do make an effort to let people know how much they mean to me on occasion. If my love for you seems excessive or copious, I apologize. I absolutely adore people and human connection. I really, really do. And this is (hopefully) a testament to that.
EDIT: I re-posted the 65 from last year. Scroll down to the bottom to see this year's additions.
Christmas Thank You List: Heroes, Best Friends, and Notable Folks
1. Lola Dill. Piano is my greatest stress release, passion, and channel for all things musical. Without my ability to play piano, I would go crazy and so much of my life thus far would not have happened. More than this, thanks for spending endless hours hounding me about musicality, the curvature of the fingers, and the placement of the body on the piano bench. It’s making my career.
2. Kyle McLaran. For taking risks, for embracing differences, and for continually surprising me with how wonderful your quirks and crazy ideas are.
3. Emily Gray. For teaching me so much about Shakespeare and dramaturgy, for how to truly direct a show, and for being such a brilliant model of what an actress should be.
4. Matt Gray. For the one time you watched Shrew rehearsal and perfectly verbally communicated all my thoughts/critiques and more in a way the actors internalized and understood. You taught me so much in the thirty minutes you spoke, you have no idea.
5. Ed Long. For being a crazy brilliant genius who taught me an insane amount about conducting, musical theatre, classical music, art, the history of Hockaday, and how to tell a story. Even more importantly, for teaching me to capitalize on my passions and pursue them all.
6. BonnieJean Coleman. For setting a goal for me as a pianist to be able to transpose anything, and to hear someone sing and immediately know what to play for them, how to play it, and in the correct key.
7. Beth Wortley. For being a second mother, being the ultimate supporter, being an older version of my endlessly overcommitted and multitasking self, and for appreciating the true class and wonder of a good old fashioned musical. Also, for being a remarkable choreographer and teaching me the importance of a real vision in theatre and dance.
8. Susan Hubbard. For teaching me how one woman is capable of running an entire show and there is no excuse not to complete a task in theatre. One person really is capable of running lights, sound, costumes, backstage, crew, cast, auditions, rehearsals, blocking, musical direction, and choreography.
9. John Weeden. For being a dreamer and helping me realize that’s a part of me and having those huge dreams is more than okay. For embracing and helping me build up my passion for the arts, arts advocacy, and arts administration. For causing me to desperately go live in London.
10. Mr. Maloney. For starting up Odyssey of the Mind and Destination Imagination, and starting this crazy theatrical journey. For helping me write, as a fourth grader, a crazy Holocaustal version of Macbeth and teaching me the difference between intelligence and wisdom. I’ll never forget it.
11. Trigger Butler. For basically being a theatrical character 24/7 and turning all things English into great theatre. For having faith in me. For making me strive to be better in an environment that was almost too easy. For teaching me how to properly shake someone’s hand.
12. Dr. Venable. For giving me passion in language. English, French, Spanish, German, it doesn’t matter. Because of your classes in elementary school, I knew I loved written and spoken word and would enjoy the study of it forever.
13. Mrs. Lee. For being the most kindhearted person I know and for practically crying when I gave you a build-your-own-gingerbread house. You taught me the importance of a thoughtful Christmas gift, 1000 Chinese characters, and the greatest smile I’ve ever seen.
14. Brendan Court. For being a guardian angel and probably subconsciously being inspiration for the list I’m making right now. A few months before you passed, you made a list of all of your friends and your favorite things about them. At your funeral, I remember Abby mentioning that list and how crazy it was seeing how many friends you had and seeing how much you really cared about them all. It’s an incredible thing, truly. I still think of you all the time and wonder what your crazy, kindhearted spirit would do in certain situations in my life.
15. Ginny Seeley. For teaching me how to be a best friend.
16. Katie Specht. For teaching me that I would never be the mature one of our group of friends, but that it was okay cause you totally had it covered!
17. Roseanne Blair. For sitting on the Circus Wagon and writing and plotting crazy schemes and analyzing the social nature of fourth graders. For introducing me to Sixpence NonetheRicher, Rocket (the computer game), incense, Hairspray (the original one that we watched at your fourth grade birthday party) and pretty much being my literary soulmate.
18. Robbie Kessler. For being my first boyfriend and for (ever so appropriately) dancing ballet with me on our first date when we ate parfaits (which recipe came out of an American GirlDoll cookbook) at my dining room table. And saw Harriet the spy—a movie which changed my view of composition notebooks forever.
19. Elizabeth Moran. For enduring the crap that ridiculous eleven year olds put you (and the rest of us) through and for turning out to be a really awesome person while they’re still pretty clueless.
20. Abby Lichliter. For that time when you visited Hockaday and I introduced you as my friend and you quickly corrected me that you were not and the subsequent lesson of how to introduce people. Particularly those with a particular view of themselves. Also, for hours of Mario Kart and dancing to the Dixie Chicks in socks. And watching PG-13 movies in the workout room.
21. Ms. Gwen. Who taught me that dance was not worth it if it was going to be totally and completely utterly miserable. And that really, it’s not dancing if it’s not joyous. Also, to never, ever lock up a fourth grader post-mono and put their recital music on repeat in a rehearsal room until they learned it. Reflecting upon this ten years later, I kind of want to tell you that it scarred me and wasn’t okay. Hmm. Moving on.
22. Katie Powell. For having amazing stage presence and charisma and truly causing me to want to tap dance and be in DBC tap company.
23. Karen Stanford. For teaching me how to tap—utterly and completely. Best tap teacher I’ve ever had and I’m immensely grateful.
24. Hockaday. For beating me down to nothing only so I could rise up completely.
25. Meredith McAlister. For forcing me to be a director and giving me an incredible actress to work with. Last Five Years is still one of the best experiences I’ve had in my life.
26. John Glass Aldous. For making me feel remarkably stupid for not knowing 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in Mockingbird Station at the beginning of junior year. You and Lizzie Cochran were the catalyst for my modern/contemporary musical theatre freakout. And for being my gay Scottish husband.
27. Allison Klion. For INFIABSIA and teaching me to love the Beatles and classic rock.
28. Bayla Gottesman. For being my other half for the better part of my time at Hockaday, and for being the most inspirational dancer I have ever seen in my life. You light up the stage when you perform, and I hope to be half as charismatic and passionate on stage as you are.
29. Julie Smith. For being one of the most kindhearted people I know—genuinely.
30. Sarah Satinsky. For never letting the bad stuff get you down. It’s really unbelievable and is quite remarkable to a drama queen like me.
31. Kim Starfield. For taking me to France and for being the ultimate best friend. For teaching me maturity and patience. For being my counselor.
32. Nicole Bullock. For unintentionally gearing me up for what Hockaday would be when your mother started quizzing you on the capitals of countries in the Middle East in seventh grade on the way home from school.
33. Mrs. Rose. For letting me know at a very young age that it’s perfectly alright to be friends with a teacher.
34. Mrs. Westfall. For informing me of the importance of makeup.
35. Mrs. Kohl. For informing me that I never want to take Latin, and it’s not worth burning bridges out of bitterness or making students miserable over trivial matters.
36. Mrs. Case. For taking so much time to help a munchkin with the spelling bee.
37. Mrs. Snow. For teaching me to write fiction creatively.
38. Mrs. Cunningham. For being the most patient teacher I ever had.
39. Mrs. Broussard. For listening to musical theatre in advisory and being patient in listening to my middle school woes.
40. Bess Milner. For being an incredibly patient friend in the worst phase of my life, teaching me what great writing is, teaching me about Catholicism, and being a B*Witched enthusiast.
41. Will Arbery. For being my first love and teaching me more than you’ll probably ever know. My love for classic film and appreciation for great movies completely stems from what you taught me in 8th-10th grade. For spending hours every night talking to me and wondering about the world—religion, politics, and our place in it. With you, my tiny existence as a fourteen year old broadened immensely. You taught me to love letter writing. I never really got to thank you the way I wanted to and you probably won’t ever read this, but thank you.
42. Stephen Fox. You are, hands-down, the most sincere person I know. You care about people so much and absolutely deserve unbelievable happiness. You stayed friends with me despite all middle school and high school shenanigans, through the times we ignored each other, when we dated (the first…sixth…eight…tenth…however many times) and after we broke up. You’re a great musician, totally brilliant, a wonderful friend, and a remarkable guy. You’ve given me more lessons in forgiveness and compassion than you’ll ever know.
43. Elizabeth Stevenson. You unintentionally taught me to be nice to underclassmen, regardless. Condescension is totally useless, frivolous, and frustrating.
44. Skylar Harrison. You taught me how incredible the power of determination is. You are truly remarkable.
45. Monroe Lacerte. To this day, I think you might be the happiest and wittiest person I know.
46. Lauren Valletutti. You taught me sass.
47. Jourdan Hurst. You are such a kindred spirit in so many ways. We’ve been through so many of the same things and I love that you maintain the sweetest disposition ever despite what life throws at you. You’re one of my real-life heroes.
48. Maxey Whitehead. For giving an unreal performance in the Crucible several years ago and really making a huge impression of what a great actress should be to me when it was still a totally foreign hobby.
49. Rachel Tamez. For teaching me about college.
50. Sarah Endres. For teaching me that I am not cut-out to be a roommate but that you can be wonderful friends without living well together!
51. Leah Taylor. For introducing me to lez-rock. And for giving me a reason to chase you around Glassell for twenty minutes.
52. Tracy Leigh. For teaching me to be a diva.
53. Darius Anthony Robinson. For teaching me passion.
54. Buff Shurr. For casting me in Thoroughly Modern Millie when I auditioned for it completely on a whim. And for having patience with a remarkably slow 17/18 year old.
55. Rachel Harpool. For showing me true ambition.
56. Laura McLain. For being the best, best friend in the world. For spending hours into the wee morning discussing life and playing the piano. For sharing a passion in music. For being the sweetest person on earth. For having faith in me. For letting me be your friend and accompanist. For staying friends with me since I’ve been home. For still making an effort. For being just plain awesome
57. Jason Villareal. For being a fabulous Indian/Asian and just being a dear sweetheart.
58. Samantha. For teaching me that hostility is never the answer and some drama just isn’t worth the energy.
59. Andrew Campbell. For teaching me that it’s all gonna be okay.
60. Kevin Vichyastit. For being a buddy I know I’ll keep forever and travel with when we’re both rich and famous!
61. Allie Hayes. For being an over-analyzer. For being a brilliant writer. For being a friend.
62. Ben Kitchens. For enduring my quirks and spending a whole summer with me. It’s still a summer that hasn’t been beat.
63. Allen Pierce. For teaching me that it is possible to have a straight male platonic best friend! And for being a darn good one at that.
64. Joshua Doss. For Nemo.
2009 List
1. Southern Methodist University (Meadows School of the Arts)--for giving me enough money to attend, for letting me transfer, for kicking my butt daily. For challenging me--something I craved after a two year hiatus from challenge post Hockadaisy graduation.
2. Kristin Dausch--for being a fellow true Cancer, for being one of those people you meet and know immediately that you will be friends, for giving your everything to everything. Your passion is so inspirational to me.
3. Baby Heidi--for teaching me to absolutely love babies. This is something I certainly never imagined occurring. Thank you for making me second guess the fact that I don't want children. (I think.) You have brought so much love into my life that I didn't even know I could have.
4. Patty and Buff--for teaching me how much politics should play into casting. For thoroughly educating me on what the bounds and limitations of a producer are/should be.
5. Jay Gardner--for being my FB chat buddy, for gabbing and arguing endlessly about all things musical theater, for always encouraging me.
6. James McQuillen--for being a flat-out genius and for being someone I greatly look up to.
7. C Nicholas--for teaching me how a choreographer should run a rehearsal.
8. Paula Morelan--for being fierce. Toughest broad I know.
9. Jackbear--for being my best friend for sixteen years. And even though you're a deaf, blind grandpa of a gay dog, I absolutely adore you and don't know what I'll do without you when you go. You're my oldest and dearest friend.
10. Abbey Siegworth--for setting a standard is so impressive that it seems unreachable. For giving me a terrifying and deliciously intimidating goal.
11. Madam Buckley--that some people can view the same performance of a highly respected performer and gather COMPLETELY different opinions/thoughts about it.
12. Bill Lengfelder--for being one of the sickest badasses I know, and for teaching me fascinating habits and aspects of my movement in performance.
13. Kelly McCain--for giving me the gift of modern dance this year. I have so much gratitude that I currently cannot express!
14. Kevin Moriarty--for taking the Theater Center in a brilliant direction, for getting people excited, and for teaching me how to introduce a new idea to a community.
15. Stan Graner--for being so passionate about what you do--even after it's not something new. Sounds fundamental, but that was a real revelation to me, and I think it says something very wonderful and telling about you as an actor and a human being.
16. Willy Welch--I am ecstatic we got to do a show together. You really are family, and I love you dearly.
17. Sonny Franks--You can play more instruments than any individual should. So much to admire in you.
18. Cayman Mitchell--prodigiously talented and intelligent, and all-around good guy. What's not to love?
19. Grandmama--for loving so much and for providing me a hero. I love you more than anyone else in this world.
20. Summer Kenny--thank you for your ridiculous extension.
21. Truett--I was the worst kind of new student--the latch onto your side, insecure, nervous type. You were the absolute most generous and lovely friend I ever could have asked for. You are simply amazing and I love you.
22. Lindsey--The development of our friendship has been one of the highlights of the last two years. While it was lovely having you in the same city, our friendship has turned into this fantastic disembodied old-school penpal thing. Somehow, the distance enriched our friendship. You provide incredible advice and listen to every complaint I ever have. I love you to the moon and back and am so grateful for your friendship. You're the best best friend I could ask for.
23. Steve Jones--for your enthusiasm, and for the conversation we had immediately following my first TheaterJones piece. You have my dream job, and you do it awfully well.
24. Bruce Coleman--I've never seen a director commit to a concept or visual image quite like you do--it's absolutely inspirational. Thank you for taking me on in Breathe--it was such a wonderful experience.
25. Wendy Welch--You've absolutely changed my life. There are people you meet or encounter who by happenstance do something that changes you forever; you have been one of those people for me. I never would have pursued theater if it hadn't been for you. You have been a mentor in every sense of the word and I have endless amounts of respect and affection for you. Thank you.
26. Marianne--You are another one of those beautiful people who quickly changed my life. You re-introduced the director in me and you encourage me in the craziest myriad of ways. I genuinely feel as though I've found a bit of a soul sister in you and I am terribly grateful for that. Also, you're a genius. Just thought I should re-remind you.
27. Thomas Renner--Your capacity to love is mind-boggling, and I am terribly envious of it. I love you and your excessive compassion for others and life--it's something I aspire to!
28. Adam Wright--for being the insane, brilliant genius of a pianist/arranger that you are. For being someone I can look up to. For being adamant about your convictions.
29. Abigail Leslie Gentsch--for being the best darn sister a girl could ask for. I am thrilled that we are starting to become friends rather than just fiendish sisters.
30. Elaine--for possibly being the most unlikely heroine and friend I've made this year. There's a great deal I've found to admire in you--wit, sarcasm, honesty, ballsiness--and I am terribly grateful that you've given me several TJ.com opportunities. You should keep pushing the book. Your writing in the blog is very different from your criticism--and it's really just wonderful. Anywho, thank you, thank you, thank you.
31. Cheryl--Words cannot adequately express how thankful I am for what you gave me during Sanders. Like Marianne said, I learned so freaking much from you watching you direct this show...it was so brilliant. I (like most of this community) am a bit awestruck by your abilities and passion for them, and awfully grateful to have had you in my life. You're a lovely spacepod mother.
That's all for now. I'll add as more come to me. Love you all. Merry Christmas
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Lawrence and Holloman- Morris Panych
"Sometimes a lie is just more believable than the truth."
I will never be brilliant enough to adequately direct this show. Ever.
I will never be brilliant enough to adequately direct this show. Ever.
Orange Flower Water
And this is one of life's great mysteries, Lily, my dear little pumpkin seed, and I cannot explain it, but somehow people are always hurting each other and love keeps happening. It just keeps happening. And the longer you live and the more you notice this, the harder it gets to know what's right and wrong. Sometimes it almost seems impossible. All I know is we would not change anything that ever hapepned, ever, because I am so excited to know you and Mommy and we can't wait to see what you are going to do with your amazing life.
-Craig Wright
Gravity
As usual, Maggie fell back into the cozy comfort of his baritone voice. An old ex-boyfriend is like a worn-out, favorite yet outdated pair of blue jeans. You tuck them away in your back closet where no one knows you are still-—in some distant, small way—holding on. You know you won’t wear them again, but you also know that nothing can replace them and you aren’t ready to rid yourself of the life you lived in them. (And you might secretly entertain the idea of trying them on again once in a blue moon, but then think the better of it.) History has a powerful pull on any relationship, and for some reason, that notion seemed especially potent last night. The curvature of his lips and the familiar memories that poured out of them were all reassurances that she was loved; she eventually gave up resisting and sank deeply into the solace of his blue-jean familiarity. She savored the way he called her “Margaret” just to make her feel special, she’d missed the quick banter only old friends share, and she worried that she might not ever find someone else who would love her as much as he had.
Somehow, Maggie and Jim had parted on amiable terms. Frankly, they'd known each other too long and been through too much together for them not to maintain a level of respect for one another. Though Jim had done some not-so-admirable things and Maggie never really appreciated Jim as much as she should have, the foundation of their relationship was built on admiration. They beautifully balanced qualities that the other lacked; in certain regards, they made a perfect match.
Jim was of the dorky, gentlemanly Cory Matthews (a la Boy Meets World) variety. Intelligent, masculine in a boyish way, yet surprisingly sentimental. Maggie was categorized as a type who repels all these things--fiercely independent, quasi feminist. [Fortunately she was not burdened with the name Topanga.] Still, she generally found herself drawn to a less-settled type--the type of guy that's fun to 'try-out', the ones who aren't serious and certainly could never become boyfriends. There's comfort in knowing that you can't fail someone. Or, rather, knowing that they'll flake out on you first. Somehow, Jim weaseled his way into Margaret's life regardless of all her prickly standards, and they dabbled in and out of romance for the better part of their adolescence.
[I can't seem to find a brief, tidy conclusion to this little ditty, so I guess I'll return to it some other time.]
Somehow, Maggie and Jim had parted on amiable terms. Frankly, they'd known each other too long and been through too much together for them not to maintain a level of respect for one another. Though Jim had done some not-so-admirable things and Maggie never really appreciated Jim as much as she should have, the foundation of their relationship was built on admiration. They beautifully balanced qualities that the other lacked; in certain regards, they made a perfect match.
Jim was of the dorky, gentlemanly Cory Matthews (a la Boy Meets World) variety. Intelligent, masculine in a boyish way, yet surprisingly sentimental. Maggie was categorized as a type who repels all these things--fiercely independent, quasi feminist. [Fortunately she was not burdened with the name Topanga.] Still, she generally found herself drawn to a less-settled type--the type of guy that's fun to 'try-out', the ones who aren't serious and certainly could never become boyfriends. There's comfort in knowing that you can't fail someone. Or, rather, knowing that they'll flake out on you first. Somehow, Jim weaseled his way into Margaret's life regardless of all her prickly standards, and they dabbled in and out of romance for the better part of their adolescence.
[I can't seem to find a brief, tidy conclusion to this little ditty, so I guess I'll return to it some other time.]
Cady
She was a sucker for the sunshine. The warmth and brilliance of an egg-yolk yellow sun poured across every limb of her body. Unabashed and blissfully self-unaware, Cady sprawled out in the field, closing her eyes and letting the heat seep into her pores. This escapist ritual was her catharsis of choice. The tall grass was still coarse from winter, but beneath the weedy bristles Cady noted hints of sprouting green–the first sign of spring. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so relaxed or content. She soundlessly mouthed that word as it occurred to her–'content.' Cady liked to think she lived spontaneously and impetuously. She struggled with the idea that it was senseless to live only in the moment and do whatever she pleased–that it was a somehow greedy way of living and while it may be enthralling and magical at first, the newness of spontaneity wears off and reality returns with a vengeance. Having had a week that threatened to take Cady from her usual spirited self to a soul-less shell, she returned to her blessed sunlight, revering its comfort and solace. She plucked out one of the coarse weeds to the right of her shoulder and twisted it between her pointer finger and thumb. She spent a few seconds peeling the tiny strands apart, crunching it into a tiny knot and–-losing interest in it while successfully forgetting the plague of life, she tossed it aside and rolled onto her stomach. Inhaling, she folded her arms to create a pillow. Exhaling, she let her stress catch the wind skating across her back and fell asleep watching it dance further and further from her spot in the field.
Emily
Emily cautiously brushed away wisps of hair that had become tangled in her eyelashes, leaned forward, and blew out the candle. With an exhausted sigh, her breath diminished the flame and silence hovered above the still room. Uncomfortable with herself, her thoughts, and even the acknowledgment of her restlessness, she crept into bed. As she did, the silence of the room was broken by the whispers of her nightgown fluttering with her movement and her bare feet aggravating the wood beneath it. The next few moments, Emily attempted to reason with herself; to open herself and accept a morsel of vulnerability. Romance was not a subject Emily was comfortable with, and she hesitated to even entertain the idea that this friendship had become something more. Emily couldn’t sit alone with her own thoughts, and she understood that. In her neurotic, hyper-critical way, she began to analyze why this might be. The conclusion at which she arrived was uncomfortable and mind-achingly predictable: that she was not comfortable with herself. Even if this relationship were to become something greater—something more—how could she give enough of herself to satisfy a relationship when she didn’t even know who she was or what she could give. Relationships require a great amount of confidence and contentment on both parties. Because of this, Emily decidedly self-sabotaged her end of it and pocketed the feelings she entertained, the rebel in her that desperately desired to unwrap them, and the worn heartstrings that teased the nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach. She tucked them away in the furthest possible place—a safe place where they would remain preserved but untouched for as long as she could bear it.
So For Some Reason I Think I Can Make a Movie...
I want this project to be feasible. I want to do something I know I can do. (How on earth am I going to know what that is if I haven’t ever made a movie before? I’m so silly trying to do this.)
Won’t it be nice when the movie is made and this will all be a memory and I’ll think back on the time when I was lost and clueless and confused?
Here’s the problem. I want something musically driven. I want to write what I know. I want to be able to use my ‘voice’—the literal one, not the aural one. I’m drawn to creepy fantastic whimsy, but that is all far too expensive. I want to do my project involving a character with synesthesia (or do a whole film through a synesthetic lens) but goodness knows that would be more expensive than I could afford right now. Or ever.
I could just start working on my documentary. That is something I know I could do. Maybe I should just stick with that.
Or I could work on the documentary while simultaneously fixing up the screenplay. I don’t want cliché. I don’t want silly angsty entitled 20somethings. Am I too ambitious?
Won’t it be nice when the movie is made and this will all be a memory and I’ll think back on the time when I was lost and clueless and confused?
Here’s the problem. I want something musically driven. I want to write what I know. I want to be able to use my ‘voice’—the literal one, not the aural one. I’m drawn to creepy fantastic whimsy, but that is all far too expensive. I want to do my project involving a character with synesthesia (or do a whole film through a synesthetic lens) but goodness knows that would be more expensive than I could afford right now. Or ever.
I could just start working on my documentary. That is something I know I could do. Maybe I should just stick with that.
Or I could work on the documentary while simultaneously fixing up the screenplay. I don’t want cliché. I don’t want silly angsty entitled 20somethings. Am I too ambitious?
The Critic
I am too young to be in Title of Show. Someday, like in 10 years, when I’m 30 and it’s become slightly period in the way that RENT has except less monumentally and quasi-historically/message-y, I’ll play Heidi. And I’ll be right and I’ll belt my little face off and life will be grand. There is a reason I am out of town for auditions (and callbacks for that matter.) There is a reason I can’t audition. I’m not going to ask to audition early or late, but rather take it as a sign.
I don’t think this is me chickening out. I’m pretty sure it’s not. Whatever.
My thoughts are driving me exceptionally insane tonight. It probably stems from this terribly immature place, but I have an insane desire to prove myself. I know that’s natural instinct for a twenty year old in any creative field, but I really feel it tonight.
If we’re going to be completely honest…Wouldn’t you love to have something to fall back on? Like you screw up something small—don’t get a role or callback or can’t go to the audition—or you get a crappy review—and you’re like “It’s okay. Because I did this.”
Like if there were some way that I could contribute to my craft not in some transient performance as an actress, but a piece—a play or documentary or film.
I just saw Up in the Air (again. and again) and Anna Kendrick’s character makes the argument about how men have to have their name on something—a plane or a boat or a building. And it’s because of mortality and it’s singular to men because they don’t have babies. Well I don’t want babies, so I guess it’s natural to want to have some other sort of legacy.
You know what it is? It’s a reason for being. I feel like if I’m not contributing something to art or the world, I’m worthless.
I mean what is the point? What good am I here if I’m not even doing anything.
Why criticize if you’re not helping? Why not take criticism if you won’t improve?
Nothing is making sense right now. My head is full of absolute crap and I’m driving myself crazy running in circles here. I want I want I want.
I’m selfish.
That’s human nature.
But no one thinks it should be. Or maybe people know it is, but they don’t talk about it. Hypocrites. Is anything altruistic? Isn’t everything self motivated?
But ultimately doesn’t that make sense? It’s your life—no one else’s. Why wouldn’t you use it the way you want to?
So what is the best way to use it? What I am here for? What good is my companionship to someone? Who cares if I write articles about how much I love art? Who cares if I’m giving mediocre performances in shows around town? Who cares if once upon a time I directed a couple of things? Who cares that I’m twenty?
I can’t create anything original. School has taught me to be so damn critical that it’s all I know to do. Criticize criticize criticize. Nothing’s ever good enough. You’re never good enough. Why bother improving? It’s not like you’ll ever be the best.
I know so many brilliant people in the world and I have seen such brilliant art. I’m not a part of that. I’m an observer. That’s not good enough.
I don’t think this is me chickening out. I’m pretty sure it’s not. Whatever.
My thoughts are driving me exceptionally insane tonight. It probably stems from this terribly immature place, but I have an insane desire to prove myself. I know that’s natural instinct for a twenty year old in any creative field, but I really feel it tonight.
If we’re going to be completely honest…Wouldn’t you love to have something to fall back on? Like you screw up something small—don’t get a role or callback or can’t go to the audition—or you get a crappy review—and you’re like “It’s okay. Because I did this.”
Like if there were some way that I could contribute to my craft not in some transient performance as an actress, but a piece—a play or documentary or film.
I just saw Up in the Air (again. and again) and Anna Kendrick’s character makes the argument about how men have to have their name on something—a plane or a boat or a building. And it’s because of mortality and it’s singular to men because they don’t have babies. Well I don’t want babies, so I guess it’s natural to want to have some other sort of legacy.
You know what it is? It’s a reason for being. I feel like if I’m not contributing something to art or the world, I’m worthless.
I mean what is the point? What good am I here if I’m not even doing anything.
Why criticize if you’re not helping? Why not take criticism if you won’t improve?
Nothing is making sense right now. My head is full of absolute crap and I’m driving myself crazy running in circles here. I want I want I want.
I’m selfish.
That’s human nature.
But no one thinks it should be. Or maybe people know it is, but they don’t talk about it. Hypocrites. Is anything altruistic? Isn’t everything self motivated?
But ultimately doesn’t that make sense? It’s your life—no one else’s. Why wouldn’t you use it the way you want to?
So what is the best way to use it? What I am here for? What good is my companionship to someone? Who cares if I write articles about how much I love art? Who cares if I’m giving mediocre performances in shows around town? Who cares if once upon a time I directed a couple of things? Who cares that I’m twenty?
I can’t create anything original. School has taught me to be so damn critical that it’s all I know to do. Criticize criticize criticize. Nothing’s ever good enough. You’re never good enough. Why bother improving? It’s not like you’ll ever be the best.
I know so many brilliant people in the world and I have seen such brilliant art. I’m not a part of that. I’m an observer. That’s not good enough.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Happenings
Working on a screenplay and a documentary.
Researching everything imaginable about synesthesia.
Brain on overload.
Happy holidays.
Researching everything imaginable about synesthesia.
Brain on overload.
Happy holidays.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Lost and Found
I live in a very harsh, particular, and critical place.
Theatre and music are spiritual for me--they are quite seriously my places of worship. Theatrical dialogue may as well be prayers and the music woven in them are hymns.
I have insane standards. And whether you're in an eighth grade musical, educational theatre, community theatre, regional shows, or a Broadway show, I'm judging you on the same scale. And I'm not going to keep apologizing for that.
I'm in school for theatre. I'm here to learn. I'm here to dissect. I'm here to create. I'm here to judge.
I'm not a professional critic. Someday, I think I might like to be. I'm not a professional director. Someday I might like to be. I'm barely a professional actress. I don't think these three careers need to be mutually exclusive. If art is the goal and these careers (in theory) all want to achieve the best art possible, then there shouldn't be a problem.
I'm going to piss people off. I'm going to lose friends. I will always have an opinion and I will occasionally share it.
I'm learning daily who are my true friends and who aren't. There is a very, very small handful of people who I can be completely honest with who not only appreciate the honesty, but also don't betray it.
I have found a very vicious career that I am unfortunately--and fortunately-- smitten with. I don't know where it will ultimately lead, but frankly I don't care. This is a journey, and my life changes daily. How can I expect to know where I'm headed? The best parts of my life are often surprises--offers, shows, and friends. That's what I look forward to.
To those of you who call themselves creative artists but only care for positive reinforcement, you might not always get that from me. To those of you who desire my opinion, ask. To those who are going to stir up a big fuss if you ask, and I tell you something you don't like--don't bother.
And always know that as critical as I am of others, I am at least ten times harder on myself. I guarantee it. There has not been a single show I've done that I have been pleased with my performance. I've been content with a couple and proud of things in them, but I have yet to give myself a good review. Considering I've done 10 shows in the past year, that's pretty harsh (and telling.)
There's a quote from an actress I greatly admire: "I do not regret one professional enemy I have made. Any actor who doesn't dare to make an enemy should get out of the business." - Bette Davis
Amen. Tough love, baby.
Theatre and music are spiritual for me--they are quite seriously my places of worship. Theatrical dialogue may as well be prayers and the music woven in them are hymns.
I have insane standards. And whether you're in an eighth grade musical, educational theatre, community theatre, regional shows, or a Broadway show, I'm judging you on the same scale. And I'm not going to keep apologizing for that.
I'm in school for theatre. I'm here to learn. I'm here to dissect. I'm here to create. I'm here to judge.
I'm not a professional critic. Someday, I think I might like to be. I'm not a professional director. Someday I might like to be. I'm barely a professional actress. I don't think these three careers need to be mutually exclusive. If art is the goal and these careers (in theory) all want to achieve the best art possible, then there shouldn't be a problem.
I'm going to piss people off. I'm going to lose friends. I will always have an opinion and I will occasionally share it.
I'm learning daily who are my true friends and who aren't. There is a very, very small handful of people who I can be completely honest with who not only appreciate the honesty, but also don't betray it.
I have found a very vicious career that I am unfortunately--and fortunately-- smitten with. I don't know where it will ultimately lead, but frankly I don't care. This is a journey, and my life changes daily. How can I expect to know where I'm headed? The best parts of my life are often surprises--offers, shows, and friends. That's what I look forward to.
To those of you who call themselves creative artists but only care for positive reinforcement, you might not always get that from me. To those of you who desire my opinion, ask. To those who are going to stir up a big fuss if you ask, and I tell you something you don't like--don't bother.
And always know that as critical as I am of others, I am at least ten times harder on myself. I guarantee it. There has not been a single show I've done that I have been pleased with my performance. I've been content with a couple and proud of things in them, but I have yet to give myself a good review. Considering I've done 10 shows in the past year, that's pretty harsh (and telling.)
There's a quote from an actress I greatly admire: "I do not regret one professional enemy I have made. Any actor who doesn't dare to make an enemy should get out of the business." - Bette Davis
Amen. Tough love, baby.
Nightmare
It was like Rabbit Hole, and I was Izzy.
So post discovering I would not need to be a naked stable girl and the simultaneous closing of Breathe, I felt it was necessary to compensate eating as much Thanksgiving food as possible. I did. And then I had a food baby.
In my nightmare, my food baby was a legitimate baby. And the doctor informed me that I hadn't gotten fat, but that there was a living being in my stomach. (Isn't this awful? It gets worse.)
Nevermind that I didn't even contemplate who the father was (In these dreams, I'm usually just miraculously--POOF--preggers), I was concerned about this baby. And we're in this waiting room that looks like the bathroom lobby area in nicer department stores, and Marianne (who is apparently Nat) hates me. But instead of four year old Danny dying, she couldn't get pregnant (in my dream we're legit sisters.) And she starts calling me a drama queen and tellss me to stop freaking out and I can't.
And then I realize she must be right (because she always is) and I'm like 'yes, it's not a big deal that I am pregnant at 20 and have immaculately conceived' and then I apologize to her. Profusely.
And she sort of forgives me but still has a grudge against me. And then we shop in the mall and walk around outside. The end.
..................WHAT? I am a crazy person. What does this mean?
So post discovering I would not need to be a naked stable girl and the simultaneous closing of Breathe, I felt it was necessary to compensate eating as much Thanksgiving food as possible. I did. And then I had a food baby.
In my nightmare, my food baby was a legitimate baby. And the doctor informed me that I hadn't gotten fat, but that there was a living being in my stomach. (Isn't this awful? It gets worse.)
Nevermind that I didn't even contemplate who the father was (In these dreams, I'm usually just miraculously--POOF--preggers), I was concerned about this baby. And we're in this waiting room that looks like the bathroom lobby area in nicer department stores, and Marianne (who is apparently Nat) hates me. But instead of four year old Danny dying, she couldn't get pregnant (in my dream we're legit sisters.) And she starts calling me a drama queen and tellss me to stop freaking out and I can't.
And then I realize she must be right (because she always is) and I'm like 'yes, it's not a big deal that I am pregnant at 20 and have immaculately conceived' and then I apologize to her. Profusely.
And she sort of forgives me but still has a grudge against me. And then we shop in the mall and walk around outside. The end.
..................WHAT? I am a crazy person. What does this mean?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
123 Reasons to Love New York.
This is brilliant.
http://gawker.com/5430483/2005s-123-reasons-to-love-new-york-right-now
Ho-hum. I've been left alone with my own neuroses too long. It's not resulting in creative craziness, just internal frustration.
http://gawker.com/5430483/2005s-123-reasons-to-love-new-york-right-now
Ho-hum. I've been left alone with my own neuroses too long. It's not resulting in creative craziness, just internal frustration.
Criticism. Lots and Lots of it.
I am critical. Really, really, really, really critical. I'm ambitious. Terribly, ridiculously ambitious.
Both of these traits have driven me to do things but both of them have also cost me friends.
So what do I do?
Both of these traits have driven me to do things but both of them have also cost me friends.
So what do I do?
Heidi Chronicles, Sylvia, and Sanders Closing
Hey kiddos.
I loved/want to be in both Heidi Chronicles and Sylvia. Badly.
Sanders closed today. I may have been a teeeeensy bit teary over it. HOWEVER, we are officially doing it all again next year and they're asking the whole cast back! I am ECSTATIC. Seriously. I'm learning to fiddle this year, for it, y'all.
Crimes of the Heart, now. Oh boy.
I loved/want to be in both Heidi Chronicles and Sylvia. Badly.
Sanders closed today. I may have been a teeeeensy bit teary over it. HOWEVER, we are officially doing it all again next year and they're asking the whole cast back! I am ECSTATIC. Seriously. I'm learning to fiddle this year, for it, y'all.
Crimes of the Heart, now. Oh boy.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
David Mamet Once Said--
When you come into the theater, you have to be willing to say, "We're all here to undergo a communion, to find out what the hell is going on in this world." If you're not willing to say that, what you get is entertainment instead of art, and poor entertainment at that.
South Pacific, Fantastic Mr. Fox, Princess and the Frog
South Pacific tour at the Winspear.
Winspear Review: I liked it much more than I thought I would. Seats are uncomfortable (though not as bad as the Wyly) and the space is SO much more functional than the Wyly. (OMG don't even get me started on that stupid building. Had the architect EVER stepped foot inside a theater before? There's no way.) You're in very close quarters with your neighbors, and that can be an issue. This is terribly cruel sounding, but everything really is bigger in Texas and these seats did not accomodate for that. My mother described my seated position as "suspended hovering" which is absolutely correct. So that was frustrating. Otherwise, it was fine. The space is absolutely b-e-a-utiful.
South Pacific Tour Review: Emile: sounds like Paulo Szot (not as pretty) but absolutely fabulous and dreamy and wonderful. Nellie was fine...just came back from playing Elphaba for 2 years and it absolutely showed. She had some very bizarre contemporary witchy things going on with her belt, and it seemed a bit anachonistic...(can you have vocal anachronisms? whatever..) but she had some really lovely moments and I enjoyed her performance overall. Bloody Mary and Billis were big big big disappointments. Ensemble was lovely, but the female dancers really weren't great dancers at all and the sailors (salivating over females) couldn't have been gayer. Lt. Cable was beaaaaaautiful and had a lovely voice, so that compensated for a bit. Wonderful set, wonderful staging. Gorgeous orchestra. Overall, I recommend it.
Also saw Fantastic Mr. Fox this evening. Really enjoyed it. Lovely voice work, kickass animation, and Roald Dahl. Doesn't get much better than that. I love Wes Anderson, but there always seems to be this underlying pretention in his stuff...that just oozes out. *cough* Tenenbaums. Anyway, the animation helped dilute that a bit.
Saw Princess and the Frog yesterday. (I made myself see these two before I revisited Up in the Air. But now I can see it again!! Yay!) It was aight. I was really hoping for this glorious Disney comeback, but it didn't happen. It's sweet, and Randy Newman's songs were fine, but they really, REALLY needed Alan Menken to pump out some power ballads and cheery upbeat tunes. I hope they continue doing 2D stuff and get back on track with the golden Disney stuff. It seems like they almost aren't capable of really having any faith in it...like the only way they can really do it is if they mock it (Enchanted.) But the reason those films were so glorious is because they were taken seriously. Le sigh.
And now, some more dramaturgy. Since I'm not auditioning and might not legit be AD, I figured I'd unnoficially dub myself as dramaturg for Rosensweig and do a bit more research this evening. I'm about to go through a Wendy Wasserstein book and basically write out all the shenanigans mentioning Rosensweig. Yee-haw.
Tomorrow, babysitting my favorite munchkin bright and early, SANDERS SHOW (last week...I really might cry. like really.), then callbacks. Yippee! I am hella excited! For realz! Legit! And all that jazz!
Winspear Review: I liked it much more than I thought I would. Seats are uncomfortable (though not as bad as the Wyly) and the space is SO much more functional than the Wyly. (OMG don't even get me started on that stupid building. Had the architect EVER stepped foot inside a theater before? There's no way.) You're in very close quarters with your neighbors, and that can be an issue. This is terribly cruel sounding, but everything really is bigger in Texas and these seats did not accomodate for that. My mother described my seated position as "suspended hovering" which is absolutely correct. So that was frustrating. Otherwise, it was fine. The space is absolutely b-e-a-utiful.
South Pacific Tour Review: Emile: sounds like Paulo Szot (not as pretty) but absolutely fabulous and dreamy and wonderful. Nellie was fine...just came back from playing Elphaba for 2 years and it absolutely showed. She had some very bizarre contemporary witchy things going on with her belt, and it seemed a bit anachonistic...(can you have vocal anachronisms? whatever..) but she had some really lovely moments and I enjoyed her performance overall. Bloody Mary and Billis were big big big disappointments. Ensemble was lovely, but the female dancers really weren't great dancers at all and the sailors (salivating over females) couldn't have been gayer. Lt. Cable was beaaaaaautiful and had a lovely voice, so that compensated for a bit. Wonderful set, wonderful staging. Gorgeous orchestra. Overall, I recommend it.
Also saw Fantastic Mr. Fox this evening. Really enjoyed it. Lovely voice work, kickass animation, and Roald Dahl. Doesn't get much better than that. I love Wes Anderson, but there always seems to be this underlying pretention in his stuff...that just oozes out. *cough* Tenenbaums. Anyway, the animation helped dilute that a bit.
Saw Princess and the Frog yesterday. (I made myself see these two before I revisited Up in the Air. But now I can see it again!! Yay!) It was aight. I was really hoping for this glorious Disney comeback, but it didn't happen. It's sweet, and Randy Newman's songs were fine, but they really, REALLY needed Alan Menken to pump out some power ballads and cheery upbeat tunes. I hope they continue doing 2D stuff and get back on track with the golden Disney stuff. It seems like they almost aren't capable of really having any faith in it...like the only way they can really do it is if they mock it (Enchanted.) But the reason those films were so glorious is because they were taken seriously. Le sigh.
And now, some more dramaturgy. Since I'm not auditioning and might not legit be AD, I figured I'd unnoficially dub myself as dramaturg for Rosensweig and do a bit more research this evening. I'm about to go through a Wendy Wasserstein book and basically write out all the shenanigans mentioning Rosensweig. Yee-haw.
Tomorrow, babysitting my favorite munchkin bright and early, SANDERS SHOW (last week...I really might cry. like really.), then callbacks. Yippee! I am hella excited! For realz! Legit! And all that jazz!
Conundrum: Theatrical Politics Strike Again
Hi kids. I've got a conundrum. This is unfortunate, but it does give me a reason to say "conundrum," which is fantastic.
Those who know me (at least somewhat well) know that I'm a terribly enthusiastic person. My spectrum of feeling and passion totally exceeds what should be normal human capacity; meaning, I am depression-prone but equally prone to fits of sublime happiness and excitement. This enthusiasm generally comes down to the fact that I wish to learn everything.
There's a quote I recently encountered from Frank Tyger, that is: "Ambition is enthusiasm with a purpose." Right on, Mr. Tyger.
Now, George Washington said something which (for me) dovetails off of that: "Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence." George Washington
George Washington was not in theater. Although (obviously) he was a brilliant politician. Politics, I've come to learn, are a paramount aspect of theater. (Duh.) At any rate, here's where the problem comes in. My favorite part of this world (aside from music) is human connection. Deep down, I am a teacher and director. I love sharing knowledge and making connections. I loathe monologues and solo songs, but I relish sharing moments onstage with others (or being the director who assisted the actor in getting to that moment.)
Theatrical politics are very tricky. I am a happy, generally kind, enthusiastic human being. I attempt to see the best in everyone initially and (as advised by GW) be courteous to all. My problem is a good one to have, I suppose. It's not that there are an extraordinary number of people I dislike in the community. That is not the case. The problem is that I love people too much.
Occasionally, I run across someone who absolutely fascinates me. Generally the qualities of these types are:
1. Totally brilliant. Exceptionally brighter than I am.
2. Artistic geniuses in some manner.
3. Terribly kind and humble, down-to-earth and feel similarly about people and art as I do.
So begins the talent crush. I respect these people more than anyone else on the planet, and understand I can learn so much from them. Here's the thing: How does one learn as much as possible from these people without coming off as an awful brown noser? Is it wrong to inform someone how much you respect them if it is completely genuine? And when do you hit the point when it is completely annoying? I am so enamored of learning that I think it's hindered my perception of what is 'too much'.
I don't even know that I want to be an actress. I know that I want to direct. I know that I want to cast. I know that I want to produce. Thus, my talent crushes are often teachers, directors, and producers. These are people in positions of power. I don't befriend them because I want a good grade or want to be the lead. (Frankly, I don't care about grades nearly as much as I should and I don't even remotely desire to be a lead in ANYTHING right now. Okay, maybe a tap show. But there does seem to be a shortage of those...Whatever.)
I just feel that in a business where you constantly deal with bullshit and superficiality, you should be able to acknowledge and thank those so far from the norm--the folks who really care about the art and have something to give to it.
As a fairly new 'actress' in the community, it's a difficult balance to achieve. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut altogether. Leave everyone alone. Just stay home and read plays all day long. (Let's be honest: that's what I've been doing the past week anyway.)
Blargh. Endless cycle of inner monologues and inner neurosis. Fie on you, passion! I have too much.
I keep talking about writing that play or musical. I really need to get back to that. Not only because it marries my two favorite things (writing and theatre) but also because people might understand that I'm not just some 20 year old entitled-feeling female actress with a peasized brain freely giving compliments. I'm not saying that's what people think of me, but if they do, I guess I could see how they could perceive that...if they didn't know me.
Blargh again. I guess it's a good problem to have. Too much love for too many things. Frustration.
I mean, what would you do?
Those who know me (at least somewhat well) know that I'm a terribly enthusiastic person. My spectrum of feeling and passion totally exceeds what should be normal human capacity; meaning, I am depression-prone but equally prone to fits of sublime happiness and excitement. This enthusiasm generally comes down to the fact that I wish to learn everything.
There's a quote I recently encountered from Frank Tyger, that is: "Ambition is enthusiasm with a purpose." Right on, Mr. Tyger.
Now, George Washington said something which (for me) dovetails off of that: "Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence." George Washington
George Washington was not in theater. Although (obviously) he was a brilliant politician. Politics, I've come to learn, are a paramount aspect of theater. (Duh.) At any rate, here's where the problem comes in. My favorite part of this world (aside from music) is human connection. Deep down, I am a teacher and director. I love sharing knowledge and making connections. I loathe monologues and solo songs, but I relish sharing moments onstage with others (or being the director who assisted the actor in getting to that moment.)
Theatrical politics are very tricky. I am a happy, generally kind, enthusiastic human being. I attempt to see the best in everyone initially and (as advised by GW) be courteous to all. My problem is a good one to have, I suppose. It's not that there are an extraordinary number of people I dislike in the community. That is not the case. The problem is that I love people too much.
Occasionally, I run across someone who absolutely fascinates me. Generally the qualities of these types are:
1. Totally brilliant. Exceptionally brighter than I am.
2. Artistic geniuses in some manner.
3. Terribly kind and humble, down-to-earth and feel similarly about people and art as I do.
So begins the talent crush. I respect these people more than anyone else on the planet, and understand I can learn so much from them. Here's the thing: How does one learn as much as possible from these people without coming off as an awful brown noser? Is it wrong to inform someone how much you respect them if it is completely genuine? And when do you hit the point when it is completely annoying? I am so enamored of learning that I think it's hindered my perception of what is 'too much'.
I don't even know that I want to be an actress. I know that I want to direct. I know that I want to cast. I know that I want to produce. Thus, my talent crushes are often teachers, directors, and producers. These are people in positions of power. I don't befriend them because I want a good grade or want to be the lead. (Frankly, I don't care about grades nearly as much as I should and I don't even remotely desire to be a lead in ANYTHING right now. Okay, maybe a tap show. But there does seem to be a shortage of those...Whatever.)
I just feel that in a business where you constantly deal with bullshit and superficiality, you should be able to acknowledge and thank those so far from the norm--the folks who really care about the art and have something to give to it.
As a fairly new 'actress' in the community, it's a difficult balance to achieve. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut altogether. Leave everyone alone. Just stay home and read plays all day long. (Let's be honest: that's what I've been doing the past week anyway.)
Blargh. Endless cycle of inner monologues and inner neurosis. Fie on you, passion! I have too much.
I keep talking about writing that play or musical. I really need to get back to that. Not only because it marries my two favorite things (writing and theatre) but also because people might understand that I'm not just some 20 year old entitled-feeling female actress with a peasized brain freely giving compliments. I'm not saying that's what people think of me, but if they do, I guess I could see how they could perceive that...if they didn't know me.
Blargh again. I guess it's a good problem to have. Too much love for too many things. Frustration.
I mean, what would you do?
Monday, December 14, 2009
i love Christopher Durang
I love him, I love him, I love him.
Were he an attractive heterosexual, we would be making babies right now.
Were he an attractive heterosexual, we would be making babies right now.
Today
Hi all. Boring update post here. Nothin' special.
Here's what's up:
Maybe I should get back to writing my musical. Hmm.
Here's what's up:
- Had Sisters Rosensweig auditions last night. Sat on the other side of the table. Nearly peed my pants from the excitement. Guys, I am a director. I really am. It is what I love to do more than absolutely anything on this planet. It doesn't mean that I want to stop performing/writing/whatever else, but it means that I felt something last night that I hadn't felt since I directed L5Y and SoM at Hockaday. I'm talking heart pounding in your chest, anxious giddiness, adrenaline rushing kickassness. I love the possibility of assembling/coordinating this gorgeous puzzle that could potentially become art.
- Because I was on such an insane high from auditions, I didn't go to sleep until 5am last night/this morning. That was kind of lame. But I got a lot done. Put together a bit of a packet for Rosensweig--background dramaturgical stuff. Went through the play and found all references with which I was unfamiliar, found clips of the music, etc. Then I set up a blog for Marianne Galloway (director of Rosensweig/is in Sanders/was in Guys and Dolls and has an eerily parallel life history à mon histoire. C'est tellement bizarre). She had a blog back in the day on Myspace (right? who even uses that anymore? That's right: no one) and expressed interest in getting back to blogging. So I set up this lovely blog for her here: Send her some love. She's a for realz genius, y'all, and one of the most compassionate people I've ever known.
- Lesson from Rosensweig Audits: a) don't judge your character b) do your homework. know your shit. seriously. c) don't overthink--don't show you're working, don't be presentational. d) be gracious and lovely. e) sometimes, it ain't about your read. it's about type and character and you can't take it personally. you really can't.
- Playreading Extravaganza continues. Today: Christopher Durang. 6 Plays. O.M.G. I hope I like his work.
- And now: Coffee, plays, Jourdan Hurst playtime, and seeing potentially two movies.
- I FREAKING LOVE CHRISTMAS BREAK. IT IS CREATIVITY-PALOOZA AROUND HERE!
Maybe I should get back to writing my musical. Hmm.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Rabbit Hole, Doubt, and Waiting for Godot
Rabbit Hole: Slayed me. But I completely loved it. I like David Lindsay-Abaire's writing. A lot.
Doubt: Nice to revisit, and still enjoy it...And wanting to play Sister James....
Waiting for Godot: Clearly I am a moron who is missing the point. I loathed it. But I take this to mean that I am stupid and missing the point. But then I went online and researched a bunch of essays on it, and Sam Beckett keeps saying to stop overthinking--it really is as simple as you suppose it is. In that case, I dislike it.
[I still think I'm missing something.]
Doubt: Nice to revisit, and still enjoy it...And wanting to play Sister James....
Waiting for Godot: Clearly I am a moron who is missing the point. I loathed it. But I take this to mean that I am stupid and missing the point. But then I went online and researched a bunch of essays on it, and Sam Beckett keeps saying to stop overthinking--it really is as simple as you suppose it is. In that case, I dislike it.
[I still think I'm missing something.]
Long Day's Journey Into Night
Slayed me. I actually physically ache having read it. But it was so brilliant. Oy.
Friday, December 11, 2009
August: Osage County P2
Nearly killed me. Holy crap. Wounded. Wounded. Wounded. I can't wait to see the tour!!
Next...Hmmm...Long Day's Journey Into Night then more Wasserstein.
Next...Hmmm...Long Day's Journey Into Night then more Wasserstein.
August: Osage County
I can already tell this is going to be a doozy. Opening quote from Robert Penn Warren's All the King's Men:
"The child comes home and the parent puts the hooks in him. The old man, or the woman, as the case may be, hasn't got anything to say to the child. All he wants is to have that child sit in a chair for a couple of hours and then go off to bed under the same roof. It's not love. I am not saying that there is not such a thing as love. [duh.] I am merely pointing to somethig which is different from love but which sometimes goes by the name of love. It may well be that without this thing which I am talking about there would not be any love. [Could he be speaking in a more roundabout manner? Doubtful.] But this thing in itself is not love. It is just something in the blood. It is a kind of blood greed, and it is the fate of a man. It is the thing which man has which distinguishes him from the happy brute creation. When you get born your mother and father lost something out of themselves, and they are going to bust a hame trying to get it back, and you are it. They know they can't get it all back but they will get as big a chunk out of you as they can. And the good old family reunion, with picnic dinner under the maples, is very much like diving into the octopus tank at the aquarium."
True that, brother.
"The child comes home and the parent puts the hooks in him. The old man, or the woman, as the case may be, hasn't got anything to say to the child. All he wants is to have that child sit in a chair for a couple of hours and then go off to bed under the same roof. It's not love. I am not saying that there is not such a thing as love. [duh.] I am merely pointing to somethig which is different from love but which sometimes goes by the name of love. It may well be that without this thing which I am talking about there would not be any love. [Could he be speaking in a more roundabout manner? Doubtful.] But this thing in itself is not love. It is just something in the blood. It is a kind of blood greed, and it is the fate of a man. It is the thing which man has which distinguishes him from the happy brute creation. When you get born your mother and father lost something out of themselves, and they are going to bust a hame trying to get it back, and you are it. They know they can't get it all back but they will get as big a chunk out of you as they can. And the good old family reunion, with picnic dinner under the maples, is very much like diving into the octopus tank at the aquarium."
True that, brother.
Proof
Catherine is so damn obnoxious. I dislike her much more now than I did in high school. Don't know why. Too angsty/pretentious/selfish. Don't know if I'd want to play her. Probably would. I'd have a heck of a time not judging her, though.
Frankly (and I mean really, really frankly) I think I relate too closely to the 'I'm so far in my head with these thoughts and the what-ifs that I'm going to assume you can't possibly relate and therefore I'm going to drive you away' thing. I'm definitely not a math genius, but I'm a pro at getting waaaay into my head. Blargh.
Next: August: Osage County.
Here goes nothin'.
Frankly (and I mean really, really frankly) I think I relate too closely to the 'I'm so far in my head with these thoughts and the what-ifs that I'm going to assume you can't possibly relate and therefore I'm going to drive you away' thing. I'm definitely not a math genius, but I'm a pro at getting waaaay into my head. Blargh.
Next: August: Osage County.
Here goes nothin'.
PLAY JOURNEY
What up. Marianne Galloway kindly bestowed upon me like 1 gagillion plays today, and I'm going to read through as many as possible as quickly as possible. First read: Children of a Lesser God--Mark Medoff
Thoughts? Stunningly honest and gorgeous. I want to see it produced live badly. Very, very badly. Sarah Norman kicks ass, and James Leeds has stolen my heart. Le sigh.
Thoughts? Stunningly honest and gorgeous. I want to see it produced live badly. Very, very badly. Sarah Norman kicks ass, and James Leeds has stolen my heart. Le sigh.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Discovering Meisner
This year has been devoted to Stan and Uta. Last summer was devoted to Mamet. Kids, I'm embarking on a new journey. A couple of my friends have recommended I become acquainted with Sanford Meisner. From the little that I currently know about him and his method, I really, really love it. I'm intrigued, at least. I just bought Sanford Meisner On Acting at Half-Price, and I'm pumped. In no organized fashion, I'm going to type out some of the points that strike me...no comments, just notes...the world wide web is a wonderful thing, blogger is a wonderful thing, and I now have this lovely repository for various miscellany that can be retrieved anywhere that has wi-fi. So, my notes go here.
Sanford Meisner On Acting
"Bernard Shaw, who I believe was the greatest theater critic since Aristotle, wrote: "Self-betrayal, magnified to suit the optics of the theatre, is the whole art of acting." By self betrayal, Shaw meant the pure, unselfconscious revelation of the gifted actor's most inner and most private being to the people in his audience."
"I, too, betray myself in the sense that here, in order to teach what i know, I am forced to reveal much more of myself than any prudent man would confess to his priest."
Self-betrayal=Acting: Sydney Pollack said that when working with Meisner (he worked with him personally for a number of years) it was just a series of "YES, yes, that's it--that's the truth" type moments. 'Duh' moments. I've already experienced that in his forward. I love that description of self betrayal equating with acting. How glorious.
David Mamet is a Meisner devotee. This is probably a well-known fact, but I'm a theatre baby/toddler and I'm just now discovering this. Meisner: "Here was a man who...actually knew something...He was autocratic about things he believed in because he knew them to be the truth. And we knew we were being exposed to the truth--that is, to something which was absolutely practicable, which absolutely worked, and which we wanted desperately to learn." -- David Mamet
Just discovered that this was online: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNuFSrsYfpM Hot damn. Sanford Meisner: The Theatre's Best Kept Secret Documentary
Oh, gracious. Watching the documentary and taking breaks to read. Meisner is asking to eliminate all intellectuality. This is going to be an insane struggle--I'm such an intellectual snob...
Viscerally=Instinctively. (I'd forgotten. Stupid me.)
Acting takes you 20 years. It takes you 20 years to become an actor. The first 20 years, you're thinking. Finally, it becomes somewhat instinctive...
Okay, copying this verbatim as a transcript/clip from the documentary. So brilliant...David Mamet on Meisner:
"One nice thing about dealing with people at the Playhouse--they've been trained viscerally to put their attention on something other themselves--so it's easier to work with them. When you have to cut through various layers of self-consciousness which cuts out productiveness. Most actors, being badly trained, are terrified of being foolish--of looking foolish--of doing something that is out of their control. But you have to--if you're going to be any good."
"Everything should be as in real life"--Anton Chekhov to the cast of the 1st production of his play, The Seagull. St. Petersburg, 1896.
Be wide open, be receptive. Don't just agree with it, do it.
If something happens, it's because it has to happen. Because it has to occur. (Send/respond/repeat exercises.)
Richard Dreyfuss: Acting is behavior--beginning and the end. Just instinct. Repeating. Send/receive.
Don't fake. Don't present. Don't anticipate.
Dialogue is the last thing that happens. It's a result of behavior. You say something, I hear it, depending on the state I'm in, it means something to me--produces a reaction. last thing to happen: dialogue.
You read the text--you make it into music. Allow instinct to play truthfully for you. But let it go further. Need emotional deepening.
Acting is imagination. Before you open your mouth, add a full preparation.
Acting is doing under imaginary emotional circumstances.
Attitude: way of doing.
Meisner tehcnique: having an innerlife without being inhibited externally
Lee Grant on Meisner v. Other Acting Professors: There is a tremendous tendency for acting teachers to use their "God" position to tie people to them--so they're afraid to take a step without the approval of a teacher. (Sounds oddly familiar.) Sandy sets you free.
Okay--Part 2 Posted Later Today.
Sanford Meisner On Acting
"Bernard Shaw, who I believe was the greatest theater critic since Aristotle, wrote: "Self-betrayal, magnified to suit the optics of the theatre, is the whole art of acting." By self betrayal, Shaw meant the pure, unselfconscious revelation of the gifted actor's most inner and most private being to the people in his audience."
"I, too, betray myself in the sense that here, in order to teach what i know, I am forced to reveal much more of myself than any prudent man would confess to his priest."
Self-betrayal=Acting: Sydney Pollack said that when working with Meisner (he worked with him personally for a number of years) it was just a series of "YES, yes, that's it--that's the truth" type moments. 'Duh' moments. I've already experienced that in his forward. I love that description of self betrayal equating with acting. How glorious.
David Mamet is a Meisner devotee. This is probably a well-known fact, but I'm a theatre baby/toddler and I'm just now discovering this. Meisner: "Here was a man who...actually knew something...He was autocratic about things he believed in because he knew them to be the truth. And we knew we were being exposed to the truth--that is, to something which was absolutely practicable, which absolutely worked, and which we wanted desperately to learn." -- David Mamet
Just discovered that this was online: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zNuFSrsYfpM Hot damn. Sanford Meisner: The Theatre's Best Kept Secret Documentary
Oh, gracious. Watching the documentary and taking breaks to read. Meisner is asking to eliminate all intellectuality. This is going to be an insane struggle--I'm such an intellectual snob...
Viscerally=Instinctively. (I'd forgotten. Stupid me.)
Acting takes you 20 years. It takes you 20 years to become an actor. The first 20 years, you're thinking. Finally, it becomes somewhat instinctive...
Okay, copying this verbatim as a transcript/clip from the documentary. So brilliant...David Mamet on Meisner:
"One nice thing about dealing with people at the Playhouse--they've been trained viscerally to put their attention on something other themselves--so it's easier to work with them. When you have to cut through various layers of self-consciousness which cuts out productiveness. Most actors, being badly trained, are terrified of being foolish--of looking foolish--of doing something that is out of their control. But you have to--if you're going to be any good."
"Everything should be as in real life"--Anton Chekhov to the cast of the 1st production of his play, The Seagull. St. Petersburg, 1896.
Be wide open, be receptive. Don't just agree with it, do it.
If something happens, it's because it has to happen. Because it has to occur. (Send/respond/repeat exercises.)
Richard Dreyfuss: Acting is behavior--beginning and the end. Just instinct. Repeating. Send/receive.
Don't fake. Don't present. Don't anticipate.
Dialogue is the last thing that happens. It's a result of behavior. You say something, I hear it, depending on the state I'm in, it means something to me--produces a reaction. last thing to happen: dialogue.
You read the text--you make it into music. Allow instinct to play truthfully for you. But let it go further. Need emotional deepening.
Acting is imagination. Before you open your mouth, add a full preparation.
Acting is doing under imaginary emotional circumstances.
Attitude: way of doing.
Meisner tehcnique: having an innerlife without being inhibited externally
Lee Grant on Meisner v. Other Acting Professors: There is a tremendous tendency for acting teachers to use their "God" position to tie people to them--so they're afraid to take a step without the approval of a teacher. (Sounds oddly familiar.) Sandy sets you free.
Okay--Part 2 Posted Later Today.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
So, This is Love
Sanders Family Christmas--very solid reviews.
Minor squabbles for me vocally, since I've been trying to get back my voice post-phlegm/cold. Otherwise, it's wonderful. I absolutely adore each and every cast member, have loved working with Cheryl Denson, and am having a marvelous time. They make me look good.
Saw Up in the Air last night. Such a brilliant movie--best I've seen a really long while. I'm ready to see it again, asap. Anna Kendrick is a new idol (well, not new. I discovered I have been watching her for sometime..Broadway's Leading Ladies, Camp...) but she is fabulous in Up in the Air. So talented. And she idolizes Katharine Hepburn, so she gets major brownie points there.
Schools coming to a close--slowly, but surely. A lot to do in the next couple of days. Wish me luck.
Contemplating a redesign for my website. More professional, less Katharine. Is that a sacrifice I'm willing to make? Gracious, I'm still basically a kid. I'm allowed to have a slightly girly site, right? okay...more than slightly. Ahem.
In other news, I'm obsessed with my craft. Every aspect of acting and performance consumes me and fascinates me. I really don't know how good at it I am yet, or if I will ultimately end up performing. Casting? Criticizing? Producing? Music supervising? Who knows? For now, I'm focusing on performance, and though it is often frustrating, I love it. I love how lucky I am and what a rare thing it is to find a passion that you can turn into a job. It's amazing.
As much as I gripe and complain about school (let's face it--I can be a needlessly fussy person) I've learned so much. I'm able to criticize and identify good/bad moments in acting 1000000x more accurately and quickly than I ever would have before (if at all). And I love it. Acting is such a mind game. It's like--pile on memorization, character, listening, emotion (as result, not process), background info, and genuine life in a character...while clearly giving information to an audience..while not being selfish onstage and giving others moments...while doing your job...while portraying an honest, genuine human being that you aren't judging, but understanding (regardless of their flaws.)
--Guys, this has to be the worst grammatical post ever, but it's basically stream-of-conscious writing/thinking, so bear with me.--
At any rate, I am quite in love with it all. The only problem I seem to continually find is that because I am so incredibly hard on myself and self-critical to a quasi-deprecatory degree coupled with my fear of failure, I often feel hopeless and worthless. I need to give the process time. I need to allow myself to learn. Cheno wasn't always a genius. Neither was Audra. Neither was Katharine Hepburn. Okay, maybe she was. No, she wasn't. I've read Me (her autobiography) and she certainly wasn't.
Maybe I should stop talking and over-thinking and exposing you to my mental diarrhea. In the meantime, know that I'm reading/singing/rehearsing/studying/observing/criticizing everything about this art as much as I can as quickly as possible. This is love, and I'm in it (in whatever manner it may come) for the long-haul.
Minor squabbles for me vocally, since I've been trying to get back my voice post-phlegm/cold. Otherwise, it's wonderful. I absolutely adore each and every cast member, have loved working with Cheryl Denson, and am having a marvelous time. They make me look good.
Saw Up in the Air last night. Such a brilliant movie--best I've seen a really long while. I'm ready to see it again, asap. Anna Kendrick is a new idol (well, not new. I discovered I have been watching her for sometime..Broadway's Leading Ladies, Camp...) but she is fabulous in Up in the Air. So talented. And she idolizes Katharine Hepburn, so she gets major brownie points there.
Schools coming to a close--slowly, but surely. A lot to do in the next couple of days. Wish me luck.
Contemplating a redesign for my website. More professional, less Katharine. Is that a sacrifice I'm willing to make? Gracious, I'm still basically a kid. I'm allowed to have a slightly girly site, right? okay...more than slightly. Ahem.
In other news, I'm obsessed with my craft. Every aspect of acting and performance consumes me and fascinates me. I really don't know how good at it I am yet, or if I will ultimately end up performing. Casting? Criticizing? Producing? Music supervising? Who knows? For now, I'm focusing on performance, and though it is often frustrating, I love it. I love how lucky I am and what a rare thing it is to find a passion that you can turn into a job. It's amazing.
As much as I gripe and complain about school (let's face it--I can be a needlessly fussy person) I've learned so much. I'm able to criticize and identify good/bad moments in acting 1000000x more accurately and quickly than I ever would have before (if at all). And I love it. Acting is such a mind game. It's like--pile on memorization, character, listening, emotion (as result, not process), background info, and genuine life in a character...while clearly giving information to an audience..while not being selfish onstage and giving others moments...while doing your job...while portraying an honest, genuine human being that you aren't judging, but understanding (regardless of their flaws.)
--Guys, this has to be the worst grammatical post ever, but it's basically stream-of-conscious writing/thinking, so bear with me.--
At any rate, I am quite in love with it all. The only problem I seem to continually find is that because I am so incredibly hard on myself and self-critical to a quasi-deprecatory degree coupled with my fear of failure, I often feel hopeless and worthless. I need to give the process time. I need to allow myself to learn. Cheno wasn't always a genius. Neither was Audra. Neither was Katharine Hepburn. Okay, maybe she was. No, she wasn't. I've read Me (her autobiography) and she certainly wasn't.
Maybe I should stop talking and over-thinking and exposing you to my mental diarrhea. In the meantime, know that I'm reading/singing/rehearsing/studying/observing/criticizing everything about this art as much as I can as quickly as possible. This is love, and I'm in it (in whatever manner it may come) for the long-haul.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Love
There's a lot of it in my life right now. I have the best friends and the best apartment and the best job. I'm so darn lucky.
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