Sunday, October 18, 2009
Update
Hello all! A very stressed Katharine here.
I hate Sunday evenings. I spend the whole night fretting over Monday/the week. It's kind of exhausting in and of itself!
So what's new?
Still wishing I could go audition for Mamma Mia in a week...but it's really just the six month required audition, so nothing would likely come of it anyway. I'm so ready to graduate, but I'm trying to stay focused on school so that I can GET OUT!
Trying to get abroad. Working on that right now. Also focused on SETC/potential summer work. Lots of stuff going on...but I'm plugging away the best I possibly can. Breathe is still going really, really well and I'm very much in love with the experience. I'm so lucky to spend every weekend onstage. Grateful to the core.
Alright, better get back to homework...but I'm sure I'll be back later this week to get some more shenanigans off my chest!:)
I hate Sunday evenings. I spend the whole night fretting over Monday/the week. It's kind of exhausting in and of itself!
So what's new?
Still wishing I could go audition for Mamma Mia in a week...but it's really just the six month required audition, so nothing would likely come of it anyway. I'm so ready to graduate, but I'm trying to stay focused on school so that I can GET OUT!
Trying to get abroad. Working on that right now. Also focused on SETC/potential summer work. Lots of stuff going on...but I'm plugging away the best I possibly can. Breathe is still going really, really well and I'm very much in love with the experience. I'm so lucky to spend every weekend onstage. Grateful to the core.
Alright, better get back to homework...but I'm sure I'll be back later this week to get some more shenanigans off my chest!:)
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
It Starts With a Breath
(Disclaimer: You don't have to read this. It's really stupid and forward and remedial...Anyway...)
Eleanor sat, perched on the fourth step down a carpeted stairway.
Stop, don't go.
Stop, don't go.
You can get away with it. Don't give in--don't let in. You can fake it. Who'll know?
Each jeering sneer and temptation pooled into Eleanor's head--forming the crust around her claustrophobic overwrought inner neuroses. There was a certainty in doing the familiar--playing the tricks that worked. But the tricks never gave her energy or inspiration--anything genuine. Eleanor hinged further off the step. She had two seconds and one choice.
One second, one choice.
Thin, stale air prickling her skin, she halted her breath. Trapped. Same movements, different dance. She slowly crept down the first step, slid down the second and third, and stopped on the fourth.
(Beat.)
In compulsive splitsecond, she opened herself to reception and closed herself off from negative subjection. Let's go. Let go. Radioactive energy barreling through her body and out her pores, underscoring her electricity...and she ran. As her progression into euphoria surpassed her terror, her cheeks tugged her lips into an easy smile. A thick, muted percussive twang metronomically propelled each greeting between the earth and her muddied feet. The symphonic wind tickled and scatted across each leaf in the entanglement of trees above, and invited Eleanor away from what previously connotated safety and comfort. This was exhilaration--felicitous freedom welcoming Eleanor into the blissful realm of mindless, present reception. Losing control and conscious thought over each individual movement of her limbs, she soared further.
______________________________________________
Yeah, sometimes I suck at writing. Right now is one of those times. I have way too much to say, too much I'm thinking about, and it comes out in miserable ineloquent spurts. This is me. I know it's a shocker when I confess that I'm Eleanor, that I am plagued with claustrophobic overwrought innerneurosis and that her plight--of trusting herself enough to let go--is mine. It's trivial, fundamental, and almost embarrassing. And I'm not terribly sure why I felt compelled to post it anywhere--let alone in a blog or on facebook. I'm sure I'll edit over time and hone into something lovely. My selective memory will take control and the initial copy--this first draft of quasi-shit--will no longer exist. You'll just have the delightful finished draft that shows very minimal traces of Katharine and oodles of additional Eleanor. A less obvious setting (and fewer adverbs), etc. But I had to at least start writing about this. I couldn't not. (Double negative: Really, guys. This is just bad writing.)
My life circulates around theater right now. My clothes and presence are frequently dictated by an image, my education revolves around (not only the evil "institution" and its rules, but...) learning fundamentally how to act/direct, my evenings revolve around rehearsals, and my weekends revolve around seeing and performing in shows. I'm a tree thinker.
Tree thinker: 1. Primary thought which leads to 2. Second thought which leads to 3. Third Thought. But instead of letting go of the primary or secondary thoughts, I hold onto them and their branches and tangents until my head is cluttered because I don't let go of mental paths until they reach conclusion. I'm fairly certain I have a couple of branches that have been growing for nearly 20 years.
Anyway, my head is cluttered to the point of oompa loompa Veruca Salt implosion and I need to get some of it out. Where was I? Theatre taking over my life. Right. Basically, I'm sorting through a variety of life quandaries almost all pertaining to theatre (how much you can broadcast of yourself without losing yourself/how far is too far with substitution/how much I agree with Mr. Stanislavski/merit of theatre education/education vs. just going out and doing it/straight theatre v. musical theatre/commercial work v. "ART" etc) but one of the most frequent nagging quandaries is one that has just surfaced recently.
I was a dancer first. Smile, do the steps: you get an A. Right? This lead to high school muscial theatre chorus stuff. Smile, do the steps: you get an A. Character development, genuine reactions, and legitimate acting didn't even occur to me until a year ago. (Yeah, seriously. This is still SO new for me.) I learn pretty quickly, but I still feel like I need to be in remedial theatre school just because of its newness and my subsequent facade of utter stupidity. (End of tree thinking branch...)
It seems super obvious (particularly for those who have been involved in theatre longer than I have...which is...everyone) that a huge part of this business is identifying every positive/negative thing about yourself and your abilities and your neuroses on a microcosmic scale so that you can knock them out of the way, let go, and let in. For someone as paralyzingly guarded as I am, this is completely horrific. When I started doing this a year ago, I firmly believed that I could get away with smiling and doing the steps. And while I find this new challenge very appealing and (as stated in my god-awful creative piece) exhilarating, it is simultaneously terrifying.
Breathe has been a huge challenge for me in a myriad of ways...I'm a dancer, I don't have any lines, and I barely sing. What's the problem? There shouldn't be one. I would have been content doing the contemporary movement with a smile on my face and minimal expression...but I seriously would've been the only person in this cast not doing their job. And that's not fair. Even though this piece isn't my hunky dory norm of Millie-esque belting/tapper land, it has become one of the most poignant and remarkable things I've had the pleasure of experiencing. It's a small cast in a small space with a brilliant director, choreographer, and musical director. And I mean BRILLIANT (so brilliant that it merits all-caps, apparently.) The depth and beauty of this piece was quadrupled by the work of the production team and I feel immensely blessed to experience that. Lawson Taitte compared the score to "Ragtime." If he had heard the bad-karaoke-esque recordings of this music, he would be praising Scott Eckert for his brilliance rather than the piece itself. For real.
Anyway, there's a scene where I undergo catharsis. Uh-oh. Acting. Jaws theme music swelling in the background. Basic direction: "you can't find comfort. You're stressed, you can't let go, and you need to be healed." O-kay. Great. While I toyed with a couple of different personal carthartic experiences, once I finally let go in one of our rehearsals last week--it seriously just happened. Something genuine and real poured out of me (on a level that I really wasn't even initially comfortable with). It was unexpected and cliche and bizarre, but it was supremely epic on a personal level...and I'm now addicted to the experience. These moments and the people who help me to them--are the reason I desire to be a performer/director.
Regardless, I am SO grateful to my cast for bearing with me as I stumble through these baby-steps and for being so wonderful to work with, to my brilliant director/music director/choreographer for building something from ground-up into a beautiful piece, and anyone who reads this for tolerating some seriously awful writing:) It means the world.
Eleanor sat, perched on the fourth step down a carpeted stairway.
Stop, don't go.
Stop, don't go.
You can get away with it. Don't give in--don't let in. You can fake it. Who'll know?
Each jeering sneer and temptation pooled into Eleanor's head--forming the crust around her claustrophobic overwrought inner neuroses. There was a certainty in doing the familiar--playing the tricks that worked. But the tricks never gave her energy or inspiration--anything genuine. Eleanor hinged further off the step. She had two seconds and one choice.
One second, one choice.
Thin, stale air prickling her skin, she halted her breath. Trapped. Same movements, different dance. She slowly crept down the first step, slid down the second and third, and stopped on the fourth.
(Beat.)
In compulsive splitsecond, she opened herself to reception and closed herself off from negative subjection. Let's go. Let go. Radioactive energy barreling through her body and out her pores, underscoring her electricity...and she ran. As her progression into euphoria surpassed her terror, her cheeks tugged her lips into an easy smile. A thick, muted percussive twang metronomically propelled each greeting between the earth and her muddied feet. The symphonic wind tickled and scatted across each leaf in the entanglement of trees above, and invited Eleanor away from what previously connotated safety and comfort. This was exhilaration--felicitous freedom welcoming Eleanor into the blissful realm of mindless, present reception. Losing control and conscious thought over each individual movement of her limbs, she soared further.
__________________________
Yeah, sometimes I suck at writing. Right now is one of those times. I have way too much to say, too much I'm thinking about, and it comes out in miserable ineloquent spurts. This is me. I know it's a shocker when I confess that I'm Eleanor, that I am plagued with claustrophobic overwrought innerneurosis and that her plight--of trusting herself enough to let go--is mine. It's trivial, fundamental, and almost embarrassing. And I'm not terribly sure why I felt compelled to post it anywhere--let alone in a blog or on facebook. I'm sure I'll edit over time and hone into something lovely. My selective memory will take control and the initial copy--this first draft of quasi-shit--will no longer exist. You'll just have the delightful finished draft that shows very minimal traces of Katharine and oodles of additional Eleanor. A less obvious setting (and fewer adverbs), etc. But I had to at least start writing about this. I couldn't not. (Double negative: Really, guys. This is just bad writing.)
My life circulates around theater right now. My clothes and presence are frequently dictated by an image, my education revolves around (not only the evil "institution" and its rules, but...) learning fundamentally how to act/direct, my evenings revolve around rehearsals, and my weekends revolve around seeing and performing in shows. I'm a tree thinker.
Tree thinker: 1. Primary thought which leads to 2. Second thought which leads to 3. Third Thought. But instead of letting go of the primary or secondary thoughts, I hold onto them and their branches and tangents until my head is cluttered because I don't let go of mental paths until they reach conclusion. I'm fairly certain I have a couple of branches that have been growing for nearly 20 years.
Anyway, my head is cluttered to the point of oompa loompa Veruca Salt implosion and I need to get some of it out. Where was I? Theatre taking over my life. Right. Basically, I'm sorting through a variety of life quandaries almost all pertaining to theatre (how much you can broadcast of yourself without losing yourself/how far is too far with substitution/how much I agree with Mr. Stanislavski/merit of theatre education/education vs. just going out and doing it/straight theatre v. musical theatre/commercial work v. "ART" etc) but one of the most frequent nagging quandaries is one that has just surfaced recently.
I was a dancer first. Smile, do the steps: you get an A. Right? This lead to high school muscial theatre chorus stuff. Smile, do the steps: you get an A. Character development, genuine reactions, and legitimate acting didn't even occur to me until a year ago. (Yeah, seriously. This is still SO new for me.) I learn pretty quickly, but I still feel like I need to be in remedial theatre school just because of its newness and my subsequent facade of utter stupidity. (End of tree thinking branch...)
It seems super obvious (particularly for those who have been involved in theatre longer than I have...which is...everyone) that a huge part of this business is identifying every positive/negative thing about yourself and your abilities and your neuroses on a microcosmic scale so that you can knock them out of the way, let go, and let in. For someone as paralyzingly guarded as I am, this is completely horrific. When I started doing this a year ago, I firmly believed that I could get away with smiling and doing the steps. And while I find this new challenge very appealing and (as stated in my god-awful creative piece) exhilarating, it is simultaneously terrifying.
Breathe has been a huge challenge for me in a myriad of ways...I'm a dancer, I don't have any lines, and I barely sing. What's the problem? There shouldn't be one. I would have been content doing the contemporary movement with a smile on my face and minimal expression...but I seriously would've been the only person in this cast not doing their job. And that's not fair. Even though this piece isn't my hunky dory norm of Millie-esque belting/tapper land, it has become one of the most poignant and remarkable things I've had the pleasure of experiencing. It's a small cast in a small space with a brilliant director, choreographer, and musical director. And I mean BRILLIANT (so brilliant that it merits all-caps, apparently.) The depth and beauty of this piece was quadrupled by the work of the production team and I feel immensely blessed to experience that. Lawson Taitte compared the score to "Ragtime." If he had heard the bad-karaoke-esque recordings of this music, he would be praising Scott Eckert for his brilliance rather than the piece itself. For real.
Anyway, there's a scene where I undergo catharsis. Uh-oh. Acting. Jaws theme music swelling in the background. Basic direction: "you can't find comfort. You're stressed, you can't let go, and you need to be healed." O-kay. Great. While I toyed with a couple of different personal carthartic experiences, once I finally let go in one of our rehearsals last week--it seriously just happened. Something genuine and real poured out of me (on a level that I really wasn't even initially comfortable with). It was unexpected and cliche and bizarre, but it was supremely epic on a personal level...and I'm now addicted to the experience. These moments and the people who help me to them--are the reason I desire to be a performer/director.
Regardless, I am SO grateful to my cast for bearing with me as I stumble through these baby-steps and for being so wonderful to work with, to my brilliant director/music director/choreographer for building something from ground-up into a beautiful piece, and anyone who reads this for tolerating some seriously awful writing:) It means the world.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Hello Everyone....I'm ba-ack!!
Hey friends! It's been ages.
I am working on revamping this entirely, editing it up a little, spiffying up a little, and looking forward to getting back to updating regularly...
so stay tuned!
Katharine
I am working on revamping this entirely, editing it up a little, spiffying up a little, and looking forward to getting back to updating regularly...
so stay tuned!
Katharine
Thursday, February 19, 2009
February
Hey friends.
It's been a while. Apologies.
Updates? I'm well--thank goodness! That was a most unfortunate situation. I'm Little Sally in Urinetown and Heavenly Friend/Girl 1/Lead Dancer in Carousel (baha! best role of my life.) Yes, I'm doing both. And thank goodness. They both are wonderful but similarly have their share of frustrations. Balancing them out with one another is working out quite nicely.
Hate school just because it's school. Very much needing school to be eliminated from life altogether.
Trying to compose/write. Not working out so well.
Just signed with Core Talent--pretty excited about that.
Trying to figure out what to audition for next. Actually, I vaguely know...Pretty excited/nervous about it as usual...
Column nom for Best Supporting Actress, Musical. Awesome.
School's still up in the air. I'll update as soon as decisions are closer.
Kind of tired all the time. Not a good thing.
Okay, I can't really squeeze out much creativity right now so I'm off--just felt like I'd conclude the last post!
It's been a while. Apologies.
Updates? I'm well--thank goodness! That was a most unfortunate situation. I'm Little Sally in Urinetown and Heavenly Friend/Girl 1/Lead Dancer in Carousel (baha! best role of my life.) Yes, I'm doing both. And thank goodness. They both are wonderful but similarly have their share of frustrations. Balancing them out with one another is working out quite nicely.
Hate school just because it's school. Very much needing school to be eliminated from life altogether.
Trying to compose/write. Not working out so well.
Just signed with Core Talent--pretty excited about that.
Trying to figure out what to audition for next. Actually, I vaguely know...Pretty excited/nervous about it as usual...
Column nom for Best Supporting Actress, Musical. Awesome.
School's still up in the air. I'll update as soon as decisions are closer.
Kind of tired all the time. Not a good thing.
Okay, I can't really squeeze out much creativity right now so I'm off--just felt like I'd conclude the last post!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Curse the World: Angst Rant
Thank goodness for Thomas Newman. Okay ladies and gents--there's way too much on the mind so here goes nothing.
(Sorry that this blog tends to be the things that my brain can no longer contain and so they sloppily spill into this internet space that you've stumbled upon. That's unfortunate.)
THINGS:
SMU Audition went really well. Both monologues were pretty decent, song went exceedingly well, and cold read shakespeare well. Mr. monitor man seemed impressed. Things look good.
The Positive: SMU is known for theatre. Good connections to DTC, good training.
The Negative: However, these connections are supposedly now going to be reserved for SMU grad students. This sucks majorly. I am not a grad student. Unfortunately. Additionally, I could get out in three years minimum. BA in English? We'll see.
Improv Class is freaking awesome. Love Emily and Matt Gray--pretty much worship/idolize both of them so I truly get the best of both worlds. While I want to punch most of the class in the face on a daily basis (it's like the Rhodes theatre crowd--the techies who never got onstage in highschool and now triumphantly take over with very un-funny jokes) there are a couple kids in there I really enjoy and the teachers are so fabulous that I can't complain.
Taking Bio and Stat is very un-fun. Lame.
Having strep throat is also really lame. I slept like 72 hours over the last four days. Literally nearly slept 24 hours straight through. Scary business. Still not feeling great.
Cursing this world mostly because of shows. Current dilemma.
Carousel is option A. It's in Denton (boo) but there's a full orchestra (hooray!) and it's Rodgers and Hammerstein (hooray!) with great dancing (hooray!) and they offered me to be Lead Dancer (hooray!-ish) considering I literally did not sing at the audition due to this lovely bout of strep. Two months of rehearsal (boo) for two weekends of shows (boo.)
Urinetown is option B. It's at Richland (eh) with the greatest musical director in town (hooray!) and Wendy Welch directing (hooray!) and N Morris choreographing (hooray!) and Tim H playing piano (hooray!) AKA most incredible production team EVER. However, while I have been called back I have not been cast and I could get an exceedingly small exceedingly lame role. (PS the talent of the cast in Carousel will be amazing.)
So here's the deal. Show that I love with limited exposure in a great space and something that literally just fulfills my soul?
Or show that I loathe and despise with a potentially better role and an AMAZING production team albeit possibly mediocre cast?
Kill me!
hold up...TBC (though I always say that and it never happens)
(Sorry that this blog tends to be the things that my brain can no longer contain and so they sloppily spill into this internet space that you've stumbled upon. That's unfortunate.)
THINGS:
SMU Audition went really well. Both monologues were pretty decent, song went exceedingly well, and cold read shakespeare well. Mr. monitor man seemed impressed. Things look good.
The Positive: SMU is known for theatre. Good connections to DTC, good training.
The Negative: However, these connections are supposedly now going to be reserved for SMU grad students. This sucks majorly. I am not a grad student. Unfortunately. Additionally, I could get out in three years minimum. BA in English? We'll see.
Improv Class is freaking awesome. Love Emily and Matt Gray--pretty much worship/idolize both of them so I truly get the best of both worlds. While I want to punch most of the class in the face on a daily basis (it's like the Rhodes theatre crowd--the techies who never got onstage in highschool and now triumphantly take over with very un-funny jokes) there are a couple kids in there I really enjoy and the teachers are so fabulous that I can't complain.
Taking Bio and Stat is very un-fun. Lame.
Having strep throat is also really lame. I slept like 72 hours over the last four days. Literally nearly slept 24 hours straight through. Scary business. Still not feeling great.
Cursing this world mostly because of shows. Current dilemma.
Carousel is option A. It's in Denton (boo) but there's a full orchestra (hooray!) and it's Rodgers and Hammerstein (hooray!) with great dancing (hooray!) and they offered me to be Lead Dancer (hooray!-ish) considering I literally did not sing at the audition due to this lovely bout of strep. Two months of rehearsal (boo) for two weekends of shows (boo.)
Urinetown is option B. It's at Richland (eh) with the greatest musical director in town (hooray!) and Wendy Welch directing (hooray!) and N Morris choreographing (hooray!) and Tim H playing piano (hooray!) AKA most incredible production team EVER. However, while I have been called back I have not been cast and I could get an exceedingly small exceedingly lame role. (PS the talent of the cast in Carousel will be amazing.)
So here's the deal. Show that I love with limited exposure in a great space and something that literally just fulfills my soul?
Or show that I loathe and despise with a potentially better role and an AMAZING production team albeit possibly mediocre cast?
Kill me!
hold up...TBC (though I always say that and it never happens)
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Oh, to be 19...
I need a new last name.
Reynolds? Linley? Tracy? James? Oh, who knows.
I still want to travel. I don't want to be bound by rules.
I need to learn. A lot. I need to memorize literally books of accompaniment. I need to discover all that I can about Maltby and Shire.
I need to create. I need to finish what I start.
I need to learn to take one thing at a time. But that doesn't necessitate slowing down.
I need to stop dreading next fall and figure out a way to survive in it and be happy.
I need to embrace failure, suck it up, and audition.
I need voice lessons.
I need to dance again. I need someone to choreograph for.
I need a project.
I need not to allow my social life to be a priority.
I need to make the present and the future my priority.
I need to embrace straight theatre.
I need to stop being so restless.
Reynolds? Linley? Tracy? James? Oh, who knows.
I still want to travel. I don't want to be bound by rules.
I need to learn. A lot. I need to memorize literally books of accompaniment. I need to discover all that I can about Maltby and Shire.
I need to create. I need to finish what I start.
I need to learn to take one thing at a time. But that doesn't necessitate slowing down.
I need to stop dreading next fall and figure out a way to survive in it and be happy.
I need to embrace failure, suck it up, and audition.
I need voice lessons.
I need to dance again. I need someone to choreograph for.
I need a project.
I need not to allow my social life to be a priority.
I need to make the present and the future my priority.
I need to embrace straight theatre.
I need to stop being so restless.
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