Planners

...okay - heinous admission - I keep them. I mean, if you think about it, and if you think about me, I mean...
OF COURSE I KEEP THEM.
THEY ARE INCREDIBLY MINUTE AND ACCURATE REPRESENTATIONS OF MY LIFE.
Or records of how busy I am.  You know - same difference.

Anyway, as 2011 draws to a close and I prepare to retire my shirtless-man-with-a-tattoo-on-his-chest-of-an-anatomically-correct-heart-with-a-speaker-in-it-and-some-wings planner, I found myself flipping through my old ones. Here are some gems I uncovered.

1. Found in the "Notes" section of June 2008

 Yes, this is comical because it is exactly what I am doing with  my life right now. Funny how, four years later, your life is pretty much the same.


2. Found in the back of my planner for 2009

 Yes, those are photocopier images of my hands and... well, my face.


3. Found in the front cover of my planner for 2010

I love this one for two reasons: first, I cannot believe I kept even the smallest memento from my first summer working at SSC, because I hated it so very much. I also can't believe I kept something from Claire because I barely knew her! (And now she happens to be my big sister/role model/bestie); second, I love it because my planner for 2011 has a sticky note passed between Claire and I (during SSC 2011) taped on the inside of the front cover! She's in the same spot both years, totally coincidentally!

Ricky

An Ode to Richard the Lion-breath, my favorite kitty.

Ricky has gone by many names in his life. When we adopted him as a kitten his name was "Rambo" and we soon learned that this was because the kid is bat shit cray-cray. We tried to come up with new names for him, but none of them seemed to stick (so for a while we even called him the Teflon Cat, ba dum shuuh).
We called him:
- Pablo (Pablo of the backyardigans, Pablo Cruz, Pablo Escobar or Pablo PIcasso depending on who in our family you asked...)
- Rocket
- Basil
- Mouse Feathers
- Fuck Face
- Death Wish
- Bruce (as in, the shark from "Jaws")
- The Baker/ The Baker Boy/ The Baker Street Irregular

We finally decided on Ricky because of the movie Local Hero. There is a character in the movie whose sole purpose is to ride his motorcycle at break-neck speeds down the road behind  other characters while scenes are happening. These characters then sigh and say to each other: "Ricky's on the road tonight."
Ricky, in his kitten and cat-let days, would rip and tear around our house just like Ricky in Local Hero.

Me n' mah favorite man

Many of my readers (maybe?) will remember Ricky from my last FWT, during which I lived at home and worked on my senior literature thesis. Towards the end of FWT I was continually sick with tonsil problems and one weekend my mother and father left me alone with all the pets. Ricky had an abscess burst on his face during this weekend so I, still ill, look Ricky to the vet to have it looked at.  My credit card was denied when I tried to pay the $200 to get him back from the vet, so I went down the street to the bank and paid for him in $50 bills, like a baller.
The rest of that weekend was spent reading C.B's Villette, which is maybe one of the most depressing books ever. Just me and Ricky, who had an abscess on his face.

All of this is to say, Richard is my baby beloved kitty and one of my favorite parts about coming home.

Minivan Christmas

Editor's Note: upon re-reading and finding many grammatical errors Okay, Em finds it necessary to admit that, having driven the last five hour leg of a twelve hour drive, she is a bit tired and will have funny syntax in this post.

SO: my parents and sister and dog all drove 12 hours on Thursday, northward, to come have Christmas with me in my little apartment in Portland. They wrapped all the presents, threw them into a laundry basket and came up to see me. The plan was that we would spend Christmas Day opening gifts at my apartment and hanging out, doing our traditional breakfast, ect and then all drive home together on Monday, the 26th, after spending a nice Portland Christmas together.
What happened was that on Friday, while my family was at Artists Rep seeing my show, the minivan was parked outside the theater on SW 16th and Alder and someone smashed the passenger window with a bat, unlocked the van, and stole all of the Christmas gifts from the backseat.
This event effectively killed my family's holiday spirit.
What we did instead was have a nice little blended family ChristmasEveHannukah event with Mona and Gabe last night and then woke up this morning and hit the road. That is how we came to have our first ever Minivan Christmas.
Amusement was had by all (except maybe Chrissy who was nestled in the backseat with a look that clearly said "Are we there yet?") and I have included a little photo essay of our day. Since I'm really tired and have little capacity for words.

Sisters in the backseat! 

 mmmmmmm truck stop

 Adding more M&Ms to trail mix... you know you've always wanted to....

Chrissy in her backseat nest. Tessie tried to teach her the 

command "nest" so that she would not crawl into our laps...

We watched LOTR III for most of the ride and were, unfortunately, 

at the part when Denethor is screaming to all of Minas Tirith that they will all die 

when we stopped for gas/directions/lunch. This is unfortunate because everytime

 the car is turned on, the DVD immediately begins which means there is some gas station 

in Ashland going to bed tonight wondering why there was a screaming man in the trunk 

of that silver minivan that passed through today...

 We stop for lunch

 Mona doesn't like to have her picture taken

 ...but I keep taking pictures anyway....

 ... and this impromptu photoshoot makes my father mutter "So gay..."

 under breath as he put on his jacket to leave and when we ask "What?"  

he just vaguely waved in our direction and said "This."

Car outside the restaurant

Goodbye for now, Oregon

Chrissy stepped in the yogurt cup

 Oee driving, Daddy DJing

 Home again: kitties on my bed!

Goodnight, Moon

... goodnight, bowl of mush ...goodnight, old woman whispering "Hush."

Before I say goodnight, here are a few things I've been thinking about lately:

Country Music

Specifically: how I would listen a lot more consistently if there were less (to borrow a vocab word from Mary Chapin Carpenter) jingoistic and violently prejudice/ignorant/religious lyrics.

[Editor's Note: this is not to say that violence, prejudice, ignorance and religion are all the same thing, but that this media links them with alarming regularity.]

The Outlander Series

Specifically: how I can't wait to talk to my mother about the theories of time travel/one's ability to alter history that are presented in these books.

Being An Adult

Specifically: how to make scary and seemingly-life-altering decisions without giving yourself an ulcer. 

More specifically: how to decide how you want to make those decisions; emotions or logic?

Bennington 

In the snow. 

Specifically: kicking up snow while crossing commons lawn on nights when the cold makes a ring around the moon.

Relationships

Specifically: those of the people around me.

I think about when you know what you want and how you go about getting it. I think about body language and missed signals and devotion. I think about devotion a lot and about how it can make some people foolish and some endearing. 

Air mattresses and brown paper packages tied up with string. 

Air mattresses and vegan cookies and wire rings.

More specifically: mine

What do I want now? I've recently spent time with two men and learned what I don't want: emotional unavailability, continual inconsistency and games NOR someone who can't spark my interest, bad diction and nothing in common. 

But these men have also let me see a bit of what I do want: immediate ease/comfort, intimacy and joy in each other AND generosity, clear/direct expression of thought (albeit hampered by bad diction) and desire.

I'm left with an Ikea mattress and no one in it but me.

Candles

Specifically: how the red-ish pink-y ones from Ikea smell great. Or how I want another rose scented candle but I think Bi-Mart won't restock them until after the holidays.

Oliver! The Musical

Specifically:  how I've been singing bits of songs from Oliver! backstage. Not during the show but before or after, as I set up or clean up. 

This invariably makes me think of Maria or the security guard I was in lust with from Dalton. I wish I hadn't been such a baby then, but I was and didn't know what to do about him. I don't even remember his name.

The Bug

Specifically: how I need to get it washed before my sister sees it tomorrow and stabs me for never cleaning off all the dust from my September trip up I-5.

My Grandfather

Every time I wear his old Carolina sweater, which is a lot.

Closing Weekend

Specifically: how am I going to navigate closing parties/drinking outings and have my family here?!

More specifically: how am I going to live without seeing Ruth, Lauren, Gary, Matt, Nate or Vana everyday?!?

Zo

Specifically: wondering how she's liking the snow east coast.

More specifically: wondering if two year olds miss people.

Going Home

Specifically: how I'm thrilled. And nervous. But mostly thrilled.

Tech Bits

Lauren made me and Tozzi t-shirts to commemorate our little nicknames for each other.
UMMMM, TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH MINE.

Me: "Nice Tech Bit"
Tozzi: "Tech Bitch"
Lauren: "Naught Tech Bit"

The picture is supposed to be of us all playing our role.

Spaces

Yes, it's shameless marketing for my school BUT: I love this video because it attempts to capture something that is so fundamental and essential to a Bennington education, which is the student's interaction with their space.
Lester Martin will always be my home, no matter how old I am.

Ak mak Ak mak Ak mak

I re-read Circle Mirror Transformation yesterday as I put together a scene breakdown. I feel incredibly grateful to be working on this project and I still cannot actually believe that I get to. The last time I touched this play was at Bennington, junior year, and I was on the fringe of the production. I had just finished Mahagonny (a project that  sucked the life right out of me and left me filled with Jean-Randich-light instead) and I agreed to tech Jean's Directing I class because, at that point, I would have washed her stinky laundry for her if she'd asked me to. In re-reading it, I was surprised by how utterly heart breaking it is.
My memories of it are all light and happy but I'm thinking now those are memories of how I felt to be working with those people and not of the actual piece. Circle Mirror is, in fact, terribly sad. It's moving and it's real and it's magical and it's funny and it's sweet and it's very very sad. I finished it and I felt kind of hollow inside, like I often feel after I've cried for a long time.
Circle Mirror is about how people hurt each other without meaning to, and about how those hurts can last. There is a scene where two characters are doing a theater exercise and are speaking repeated gibberish words at each other: "goulash goulash" and "ak mak ak mak". Slowly, just by repeating these sounds, James and Theresa come to understand one another. They share a moment when the absurd realization dawns on them both that, somehow, they've managed to communicate through this gibberish, and all the while Theresa's spurned love interest watches them. When I re-read it yesterday I felt the beauty of the ak mak goulash game, but I also felt Schultz's sadness as he sat apart, watching them. Theresa didn't mean to hurt Schultz by finding someone to connect with in James, but she did. They all hurt each other, over and over again in this play.
Tonight, Andrew told me that one of Annie Baker's major influences as a playwright is Chekhov and that she is writing an Uncle Vanya adaption. This only makes a ton of sense to me. I'm interested in what she's doing now but I'm going to wait to dig any further on that particular piece - I have a feeling this one will be breaking me a bit for just a while yet.

When You Are Old

When You Are Old: One of my all time favorite poems, by W.B. Yeats. 

I pulled it up the other day and just haven't deleted the tab. I find myself reading it over and over and I think it's because, right now, all I really want is someone to love the pilgrim soul in me.
You slay me, old boy.

 When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Distinctions

Keeping Pace

My fellow bloggers (Maria @ http://mdifabbio.wordpress.com/ and Kinch @ http://silkinthediningroom.blogspot.com/) have been writing about our six month graduation anniversary, so I thought I'd keep pace.

I'm writing from the Slaughter's living room while Zo is napping upstairs and then, when Amy comes home, I am going to the theater for the 23rd performance of "Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Christmas Carol." I live with my best friend and I am trying to make some new ones. I miss Bennington nearly every day but, like Maria said, I know that what I miss most isn't there for me anymore.

I miss living only a street away from my favorite people, I miss VAPA at night, I miss VAPA during the day. I miss turning the corner to Annabel's office and letting out the breath I'd been holding all day, knowing she could solve whatever was wrong. I miss collapsing on to the couches in Booth, I miss curling up by Booth's fireplace. I miss rm 12 and rm 4. I miss getting excited about pasta night, about Wednesday mornings and eggs benedict. I miss Vermont mornings and the nights when the moon seemed to sit on Canfield's roof.  I miss hearing Jean laugh from two hallways away. I miss going to Rob and feeling better immediately.  And though the moon is probably still there and Jean and Annabel and Rob are still there, my place isn't. I don't have work in VAPA or a room in Booth. I don't have papers and books to discuss or class to prepare for. If I was there I would just be tracing the life I lived and not living it again. Maria said it and I think she's right - I miss my college years and not my college.

Instead I'm trying new things. I'm lying in bed and letting a two year old count my freckles (she got to eight). I'm  running dry ice in a new backstage. I'm learning new street names, I'm navigating new social scenes. I'm running auditions and copying sides and I'm taking everything from Bennington and translating it.

Yes, graduation was hard for me. Yes, it kills me that the people I love are so far away. But also: yes, I'm fine. I'm more than fine. I'm excited and I'm trying to make my Life Work Term a real life and one that I'll love living.

MUMFORD AND SONS

I opened this blog post to describe the concert, but now I don't even want to. It was pure joy and endlessly lovely. What fine gentlemen. I think I'll just stick to their words for a bit.

Winter Winds 
As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts
Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms
Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?
(Winter Winds was my summertime driving song, ironically enough)

Little Lion Man
Well it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really fucked it up this time
Didn't I my dear?
(I wish I knew a man who could apologize this well)

White Blank Page
Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body?

Mama Murphy Advice

My mother has always told me: "when people show you who they really are, believe them."
I've always thought that was pretty obvious and didn't need any kind of iteration, you know? As a woman who holds a few grudges and can be (at times) fairly vindictive, I've never had trouble translating douche-y behavior into a sure knowledge that that person is a douche. (I'm sure this surprises no one.)
Now I'm starting to realize it's not about that because when it's easy to write someone off as douche it means that, on some level, you've always kind of known they're a douche. It's about when you get blindsided and immediately start to rationalize it away, change it, dissect it into something you can actually swallow. You try to make it smaller, neater or nicer than it ever actually was. What she was trying to tell me was not to. To avoid falling into the same ditches and to keep learning, keep protecting yourself, keep listening to those around you and to do yourself a favor in the process.
SO: as much as this may suck, I'm going to start believing. Because if I don't, I'll be at the mercy of my own feelings and someone else's indifference.
And for a vindictive bitch like me, that just aint an option. :)

Dry Ice Days

Apparently this is what we do after two-show Sundays.

22 mo old bff

My 22 mo old bff is a smarty pants.

She can: spell her name
             count to ten
             correctly identify each letter of the alphabet
             and sometimes pee in the potty.
Guys: she is not even two yet. This all a pretty big deal.

But with great genius comes, well, a lot of other things. Like sneakiness.
Today I notices that my darling-est little-est baby bunny of joy has developed certain sneaky behaviors. Primarily, she has a sneaky walk and a sneaky talk.

Sneaky Walk
This is not so hard to picture. Imagine a child deciding that each step must land as lightly as possible. Imagine a child trying to accomplish that quickly. Now remember that this is a very small child, who is still learning how to step in general.
Basically, Zo creeps about on her tip toes, with her back a little hunched over like in how people creep around on tip toes in old cartoons.
(I do a pretty good impression.)

Sneaky Talk
When Zo has lighted on a plan of action that she knows I will not like/try and stop her from doing, she has started to try to distract me. It's a very simple procedure.
1. Zo sees forbidden object (example: my cell phone)
2. A look crosses Zo's face as she realizes she wants the forbidden object. (I usually see this look cross her face.)
3. Zo looks at me to assess if I will stop her from having the forbidden object. (Yes, I will.)
4. Zo looks back at the object.
5. Zo looks at me.
6. Zo looks back at the object.
7. Zo smiles and waves at me, cheerily saying "byee byee!"
She then, presumably, expects me to say "bye bye" back, wave and walk away to leave her to the glory of her prize. (It doesn't ever happen that way.)

Little Miss Sneaky McSneakerson may be cute, but give her some time and she'll come up with actually sneaky things to do, I know it.

Quick Changes

Disclaimer: I'm writing this post here because I can't anything about this on facebook because my actors might see it and be made uncomfortable. This also might make my father, mother or younger sister uncomfortable. Sorry.

SO: Quick changes.

This is really the first show I've had to do serious amount of quick changes in. We have a team of dressers at SSC and at Bennington, well, I was in the booth 90% of the time, so I never hands-on managed anything messy.
We have A LOT of quick changes in Sherlock. Our shortest one is about 40 seconds (1910s English aristocrat --> WWI trench soldier) and I believe there are 10 in total, all in the second act.

This means I spend a lot of the second act ripping clothes off other people.

Basically, what I'm wondering (looking at you here, Kinch): does everybody think about sex while they quick change people, or is it just me? It's not all the time and it's not every time but recently I've come to realize that a big part of my job right now is getting men's pants off as quickly as possible and it just makes my mind wander a little.

Now, this should be said:
I do not want to have sex with anyone in my cast.
I do not want to go further down their clothing layers than I already do.
but I feel like it pops into my head a lot when I'm backstage frantically unbuckling a belt. Because when else do people put such energy into getting clothes off NOW?

Knowing my luck, someone at work will see this and I'll get fired and probably sued for sexual harassment and then thrown in jail and I'll rot away until I look like Otto from Sons of Anarchy even though I never said or did anything, just thought it and then wrote it down in my blog.
Actually - I'm going to go remove my blog link from my facebook right now, just until a few more posts have  shown up to cover this one.


No one really reads this anyway but Maria...right? Of course right.
I won't get sued...
right?

TO REITERATE: I DO NOT WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ANYONE IN MY CAST.
(Kelly, please don't fire me.)

Fascinating New Thing

Fascinating new thing
You delight me
And I know you're speaking of me

Fascinating new thing
Get beside me
I want you to love me

I'm surprised that you've never been told before
That you're lovely and you're perfect
And that somebody wants you

Fascinating new thing
The scene makin'
Want a temporary savior

Fascinating new thing
Don't betray them
By becoming familiar

I'm surprised that you've never been told before
That you're lovely and you're perfect
And that somebody wants you

I'm surprised that you've never been told before
That you're priceless and you're precious
Even when you are not new

....watched 10 Things I Hate About You with Mo tonight and re-heard this song for the first time in a while. Sometimes lyrics just shatter me, you know?
"You're priceless and you're precious/ even when you are not new."

I am such a good wife to my wife

I:
vaccuumed
swept
mopped
did all the dishes
tidied a bit
scrubbed the shower
did the laundry
and have a Jamacian Red Bean Stew simmering in the crock pot so that when she walks in, the apartment will smell like lovely goodness.

yes yes yes yes yes yes yes MONA MORARU COMES HOME TODAY

Missing Bennington

This is what launched me into my Bennington nostalgia today.
I know these ladies are well on their way to being totally famous, but this song makes me think of how heart-breakingly beautiful VT is in the summer and how all I want to do is be wandering in some Bennington tall grass.

My Black Friday: A Cell Phone Photo Essay

 It was sunny out! 

 So I went downtown to see what there was to see.

 I made some new friends

 And went to see the 75 foot tall Christmas Tree in Pioneer Square.

 Creeping on some Portlanders

 Blue sky/dark tree

 Mona and I's best friend tattoos

 I sent this to my S.C boys

 Wandered the mall a bit, bought nothing

 Marveled at the blue sky some more

 Went back to the tree after our show to see it all aglow

Played pool with Nils at the Hutch 

(and lost every game)

Not pictured: Waking up the Shire boys at 2pm
The entirety of the Sherlock show that night
Making 1am grilled cheese with Nils and then doing fruit roll up tongue tattoos.

Thanksgiving

... and the first one I've spent alone. I don't mean "alone" as in without a boyfriend because God knows that in my life, a man is the exception and not the rule. What I mean is, today I woke up in an empty apartment, made breakfast for myself, washed my own dishes, walked to Safeway alone, bought myself groceries and have been sitting in my bed, alone, reading and watching Jane Eyre.
I have plans to go to one of my actress's house for Thanksgiving dinner tonight but I have oddly spent the majority of a day dedicated to being together, alone.

I was lucky enough to have a surrogate family in CT that I spent the holidays with all through college. I miss Heather, Sequoia and Seyge so very much today, in addition to my own family. I miss my parents, my sister and mostly, I am missing my grandfather.
I miss Rampah's warm flannel. I miss the way he would say "Dan-o" when he hailed his son-in-law, pulling him in for men's conversation while I ran off to see my cousins and my mom went to help her sister in the kitchen. I miss walking with him down Bamboo Terrace, kicking up piles of maple leaves. I miss the way he would smile, almost shyly, when he called me to him to give me a kiss or tell me a secret.
Today I'm wearing his Carolina sweatshirt, which doesn't smell like him anymore. I've slept with it in my bed with me since April and it doesn't carry a bit of him anymore, but I still won't wash it.

I'm grateful for all those Thanksgivings in Marin, with all ten Probsteins.
I'm grateful that I had so many that they run together.

Early

Took Mona to the airport this morning at 5am. I'm already over being here alone. I just do not like empty spaces, I guess.

I know I should go back to sleep but I'm sticking it out to see my first Portland sunrise. The interwebs says sun up is at 7:20a this morning, but the sky is starting to turn now - first gray, then a deep blue.

Tattoos

Last night Manager Jack asked me about my tattoos. Date Daniel asked me about them the last time we went out too, and both guys seemed impressed? surprised? by the amount of thought and meaning behind these two little box-y bracket-y things on my wrists.

I love my tattoos. I love them a lot. I love what they mean to me and I love how they look. I love them.

And, after nearly three years, I'm starting to get antsy for another one. 

I've considered getting a black and white redwood tree (or cypress tree) on my foot, to symbolize my "roots" in Santa Cruz (how punny of me!). 

I've considered getting a small old sailing ship, to connect back to C.B and Shirley and how Shirley Keeldar calls herself "Captain Keeldar" whenever she feels like she needs the strength, courage and fortitude of a man. I think about that aspect of Shirley a lot, especially when I need a little kick to get back on my feet. I don't call myself Captain Keeldar, but I smile to myself about it.

I've considered getting the word "Go," for obvious SM reasons.

I've considered getting lines from plays, poems or novels I've read.

I want to get a tattoo with Tessie, that are somehow connected if not the same.  But we don't know what that would be yet.

I am so ready for my next one and I just need to be open and let the image, whatever it may be, come to me. I found my current tattoos that way and I need to trust it. But I am so ready.

Here's one of the two identical tattoos I have right now.

And Contraiwise is one of my favorite sites to look through. I've read every entry, twice.

Take a peek.

Equity Monday

Equity Monday

It's 1:14 am which means it's Monday which means the theater is dark as a door-nail and I will not be there all the day long.
After a 5 week rehearsal process that took Friday as the day off, it feels oddly right to be back to Equity Mondays. Having Monday off just feels more like the laundry, grocery shopping, errand day that I've known single-days-off to be. Friday felt different and not productive and not nearly as long as Monday. Maybe it was just at SSC, but when everyone come back on Tuesdays it really did feel like a new week beginning. Everyone wanted to know what you'd done with your day and everyone was a bit more there. Fridays just felt like I missed rehearsal or something.

It seems silly, but I'm happy I'm back in sync with the rest of the theater world.

Sundays

Because our day off is now back to Equity Mondays, Sundays are a little silly here at Sherlock Holmes. The week is long and Sundays are longer, with both a matinee and a night show. Everyone is feeling it by Sunday, whatever it might be.

There were some prime moments today and my favorite may have been watching Gary dance about the greenroom in his Spirit 2/Oscar Wilde costume. (Side note: I may be falling in best friend love with Gary Powell. The man just makes me smile so wide, so often. And every time he sees for the first time that day he says my name like it's been years.)
And then -  "Embrace your inner bitch. Never apologize for it. Until the turd in the punch bowl gets too gross. Then apologize." - my lead actor

And then, of course, there was the ever entertaining Moments After the Show with the Stage Management Team.
Lauren and I recorded a beautiful rendition of "Oh Tenanbuam" for Nate to use as his ring tone and Tozzi just gave us that look she loves to give us.

(I also overheard Amy say today that if anybody could turn Matt straight, it'd be her. You go, Glen Coco.)

What I'm Reading

I have just re-started the first book in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. I have read this particular book three times before, and the first six books of the series once through. I am going to re-read them all in preparation for FINALLY reading the seventh installment and let me tell you: I am SO GOD DAMN EXCITED. I love these books in a very serious way, which I had kind of forgotten.
There are seven books worth of absolute joy awaiting me and I am thrilled.

A note on last night's post

Yes, I was drunk.
Yes, I was a little surprised to see it this morning 

and Yes, it made me laugh.
Mona says she liked my commitment to my blog, to write at such a time.

Manager Jack

Hey!
Toilet leaking!
Fall through the ceiling?
NO!
Handy man!
Beers!
Pool!
Hanging out accidentally listening to Christian Rock?
Sure!
New Friend?
Maybe!

Manager Jack!

Sherlock and Baby

Opening: tomorrow!
Return to normal life: Saturday? Maybe Sunday. Hopefully Monday at the latest.

I'm up making opening night cards right now, so I'll just include a few quotes, a few pics and a video for this post.

And hey, guess what - it's raining.
xoxo

Quotes:

Me: "Say please."
Zo: "Meeeeease."

"We'll hope it happens right and if not, we'll make it up." - the 83 yr old actor in my cast, a lifelong theater man

"It was frightening. You were the scariest homosexual I've ever seen" - My director, as a note to the actor playing Oscar Wilde, about his costume + make up + wig situation, minus his hat.

Every night before one of my actors goes on stage, he makes his round to each member of the cast and crew, looks them in the eye and says "Fuck 'em up."
(Not unlike how Erik and Richard would stand backstage and dramatically flip off every bank of the audience before going onstage this summer. [ This leads me to believe that actors see theater as a combative sport...])
Anyway - Todd comes back into the green room after a scene and
Gary: "Did you fuck them up?"
Todd: "Ehh, we flirted a little."

Also, the terms of endearment I've garnered:
My director - "mi petite olive" and "the love of my life" and "my magical creature"
The 83 yr old actor in my cast - "make the hills cry out OOOOhHHHlivia!" and "my good pal, Olivia"
My SM - "her tech bit" (and she's my "tech bitch")

Pics:
Everything but the first one was taken today, so it kind of shows my day in order? It's almost entirely representative of my life right now, only Mo isn't in any of the pictures.

 The most colorful we get backstage: our language and our spike tape

 My girl in my boots

 My and my girl

 CHAINS. (Moriarty and his SM.)

Opening night cards, in progress

The video:

This is who Lauren and I channel when we have to turn Gary from an aristocratic Englishman walking the streets of London into a WWI Major in the trenches in under 45 sec.

Opening House

Preview #1: The first real audience we've had
(No offense Mo, invited dress was an audience too but there were only like 15 of you. The house was 2/3 full tonight)

The first preview is always incredibly educational.  Tonight, we got hear what they thought was funny (more than we expected), what they thought was scary (more than we expected) and what they thought was ridiculous (less than we expected).

The best part, however, were a particular pair of patrons.

My director began his notes tonight with: "I think the best thing about the two drunk people sitting behind me..."

Honestly, these two were hilarious. I mean, in retrospect hilarious. I think a lot of people were mortified by them really. Since I was backstage, I had no idea any of this was happening until it was all over and I find it hilarious.
Jon said he knew they were trouble from the get-go when they were being super loud and obnoxious before the play began; he considered moving right then.
(I'm secretly glad he didn't because of everything he was privy to.)

Their antics were as follows:

1. After the gun shot went off, the drunk man shouted "SHIT!" really loudly.

2. They asked my director during intermission if he had seen the play before. He kind of laughed and said "a few times" and then the woman got all confused. She asked when we had opened, if he had seen it before and this was the first preview.
He just kind of didn't answer for a second...
...
...
...
Then he finally said he didn't know when we opened, because he didn't want to tell her that we don't open until this upcoming Friday and yes, in fact, he is the director.

3. During Matt and Amy's scene, this drunk woman spoke loud enough for them to hear her from the stage.
Amy: "Oh William, you break my heart"
Matt: "That is metaphor, the heart cannot break."
Drunk Woman: "Oh yes it can."

The icing on the cake, however, was at curtain call.
4. Jon said he heard her get up and go into the aisle and thought she was being mildly rude, but kind of understood the I-need-to-leave-before-everyone-else thing. But she was not leaving - oh no.
This woman walked down the aisle to the stage and started bowing with my cast. Not just my cast - but my leads! Sherlock and Watson were taking their bows and she joined them.
She just kind of stumbled on to the stage and started bowing all over the place.

5. Later, Jon heard her talking to her husband/brother/friend/fellow drunk person in the lobby and he was asking her why she did that and she said "I just - I loved it so much- I just- I wanted to give them my ENERGY. They had to - had to - just HAD TO KNOW how much I loved it."

Well, drunk lady and her beau, I'm glad you liked our little play - we worked very hard to make crazy people like you want to come down to the stage and take a bow of love.

Outside/Inside

 Driving up Morrison St

Decorations in the Lobby with Lauren

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 6)

The police "began their assault" on Occupy Portland around 5pm today, when we were prepping for our invited/photo dress. The first group of people outside our cocoon saw our little play.

By the time I drove home along Salmon tonight the Occupy park was lit up like a fair, only everything was gone. There were riot police all along the perimeter but inside: nothing.
Just big bright white lights.

A forcible metaphor for temporality that I don't need to iterate, and a less forcible metaphor for theater that I will try to iterate:
Right now, I think I am going to spend a time of my life facilitating the creation of pieces of art (or entertainment) that only last for a few weeks. I am pouring every ounce of me into work that, when done well, will be invisible to those few people who are in the right place at the right time and can be an audience to what I do.
Tonight was my last night of tech proper on Sherlock, next week is previews and then we run. I am ready to be in previews and I am ready to leave tech behind but even if I wasn't, I would have to.
There are riot cops on the perimeter.

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 5)

I raced home because I was (miraculously) leaving the theater before 9pm and I wanted to see my wife and have a drink.

(I felt like Jax Teller, s4e1 but I didn't know it yet.)

10/12 tomorrow.

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 4)

Tonight I walked to Cassidy's for a drink with Lauren before driving home. I will consider this walk a part of my commute, because anything after the theater is en-route home.

The big white building on Alder on and 14th was holding some event tonight, because it's back parking lot was a bucket of giggles. As we strolled past the hedge that separates the sidewalk and the parking lot, someone started speaking to use from inside the shrubbery. English accent, possibly? A little jump-of-fright inducing.

Then a drunk girl in a tiny party dress tried to take the industrial staircase all by herself.

Then we saw a young gentleman dancing it up in the parking lot, to the music coming from his car. He was alone, but it was quite obviously a party to him.

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 3)

I'm trying to do a bit of an experiment where I write on the same topic every night after tech, just to see what happens. Tonight though, tech was rough and I'm not feeling it.

Which is all I was thinking about on my commute home actually - was how much I didn't want to write about my commute home and what I wanted was a beer and some food.

So: beer drunk, food eaten, now - my commute home.

There is a parking lot that you will pass on your left side when East on Powell that belongs, I believe, to an office of some kind. Maybe a dentist. This parking lot is at roughly 21st and Powell. Every day and every night, there is a white police car in this parking lot.

As far as I can tell, there is never an actual police officer in this car, but the car does move about the parking lot. Some days its very close to the (dentist?) office and some days it's posed as if on the verge of pulling out and chasing you down for not wearing your seat belt. Some days the inside is all fogged up (please, draw your own conclusions) and some days it looks lonely and frosty.

I'm always afraid that tonight will be the night this phantom cop car will turn on some lights and come after me.
Like the pale green pants with nobody inside them.

(NOTE: when I told Roommate Moraru I was thinking about writing about "that cop car on Powell," she immediately knew what I was talking about. And she hates it too.)

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 2)

When I parked this evening the garage was full but when I left it was just my bug, my SM's truck and car with a broken back window.

I took Salmon, drove past a men's clothing store with an elegant neon sign. (A paradox in terms?) It has a tipped bowler over the store's name (John SomethingSomething) and the bottom the word: Haberdasher. I said the word out loud to myself as I went past: ha-ber-da-sh-er.
I feel like that word was Double Bind this summer at SSC for some reason. I have a memory of John Tourtellotte saying it. Haberdasher.

Then, when I was on SW Natio, I sat at a red light for a moment before I felt that pull you feel when someone is looking at you. I turned to my right and in the car next to me were two friendly looking, handsome, 30-something men, both looking at me. I smiled a little and waved a little and they both smiled widely and waved back. It wasn't creepy or off putting at all. The street was totally empty and three of us just said hello.

Then Powell was utterly empty and I just glided right on through.

On: the commute home (Sherlock Tech - Day 1)

First I pull out of the A.R.T parking garage and wait at the shortest red light in the city - always red when I drive up, always green immediately after I brake.

Then I drive up a hill and southward to Salmon. I always, without fail, pass Taylor and think "oh God! I've missed it! Now this insane city of one way streets will make me get on a freeway I don't want!"  And then I get to the next stoplight and there it is. (And this light, somehow, is almost always green when I get there.)
[And there is often a couple hugging or kissing on the corner, but it never seems to be the same couple.]

Salmon: currently my favorite street to drive eastward, towards the river. Since the day after Halloween, most of the trees along Salmon have been roped with small white Christmas lights, which at first threw me off and now makes me happy. I don't like having Christmas show up right after Halloween, but I like the having the lights show up right after day light savings has made it dark so early.

I drive down hill on Salmon for a while, passing a parking garage where the bus always stops and a music store that has over-sized Play, Pause, Rewind, Fast Forward and Stop buttons painted on the side, as if the building itself was a walkman. I know I'm getting close to the river when I pass Occupy Portland.

Right after all the tents and hula-hooping protesters (I've often thought of Dewey girls), I reach a stop light with a "two way" sign posted next to it, which I always find a little funny. In every city, you assume each street is two ways unless a sign tells you it's not. Here, you need a sign to tell you it is, Portland has so many one way streets.

Then SW Natio Parkway, then the Ross Island Bridge.
Portlanders are proud of their neighborhood bridges and though the Ross Island bridge is not the most majestic bridge to cross the Willamette, it is my bridge. When I drive west on it, going into the city, I love looking at the downtown sprawled across a tree-filled mountain side. It's so orange and red and yellow and cosmopolitan all at once. But when I'm going home, I'm driving east across and then I love to see the scattered lights in the middle of the river, where construction is happening. I like to watch SE come closer and  feel the darkness close in and then pull back as I pass the middle point of the bridge and leave the river.

After the bridge is Powell, and after Powell, home. I pull in and always look up to our apartment's windows. I can never see Mo through them and I don't actually glean any information by looking, but I always look.

Country Radio

Sometimes I listen to it, in the bug, when I am all by myself.
(Or with Mona, since I know she won't suddenly decide that she does, in fact, loathe me.)

Anyway, today I heard a song I haven't heard since elementary school and I'm kind of in love all over again.


If you really want to know, she comes here a lot.
She just loves to hear the music and dance.
K13 is her favorite song.
If you play it, you might have a chance.
Tonight she's only sippin' white wine.
She's friendly, and fun-lovin' most of the time.

But don't ask her on a straight tequila night.
She'll start thinkin' about him, then she's ready to fight.
Blames her broken heart on every man in sight,
On a straight tequila night.


- John Anderson

Everybody has their straight tequila nights. I most certainly do.

"but at one point, I would have given a kidney for that anyway"

We have a friend of Mona's from Ghana staying with us here at the MoraruMurphy Fortress and we are actually playing "Would You Rather." (Yes, alcohol is involved.)

John Michael (this man's fake name) has said that he feels like he has been time traveled into a middle school girl's slumber party, "but at one point, I would have given a kidney for that anyway."

Some good ones:
Would you rather: be bald for ever? OR have a Sean Connery hairy chest?
Would you rather: have to get married this year? OR never get married ever?
Would you rather: never hear Jim Morrison's voice again? OR never see Johnny Depp again?
Would you rather: be continually going on first dates? OR always have to be monogamous with the person you're currently with/were last with?
Would you rather: never be able to connect to the internet on your laptop again? OR never be able to do anything with your phone but call?

And no, Andrew Plumb's famous question has not been asked.

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

and if you come to see my show and notice that sound cue- that's me!

Yes, I'm way in the back where my little off key voice won't upset the sound-scape, but  it is in fact me and my whole cast singing a christmas carol for the first sound cue of Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Christmas Carol.
Pretty precious if you ask me.


... almost as precious as dressing the PA up in a little 19th century boy's outfit so she can drag lamp posts on and off stage. Almost.


(And yes, I am not thrilled that I will be costumed.)

What People Say in the Work Place

...the theater I mean, since my other work place is mostly me making baby noises at a baby.

My director: "I have things in mind - they involve a wig and a wombat..."

My stage manager was showing an actor the tape outline of the set and he said:
"Wait, what? I don't get it. Ahhh, you just tell me where to be and I'll fake it."
(SMs love to hear that.)

My director talking about how one of our actors will look when he plays a WWI Major
Director: "Blood, dirt, mud, half a German dog -"
SM (whispered): "This is Gary's crazy quick change"
Director: "This is Gary's crazy quick change? Oh. No dog then."

Re: the amount of sex in a certain scene
My director: "We're not playing hide the pickle, we're just opening the jar."

My lead, re: his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes:
"The hair of a pederast, the mind of a genius."
and
"Nothing says Christmas like a touch to the groin."

My SM: "So if you hear screaming and an ambulance just - you know - preset for tomorrow."

My director, telling an actor to scale back his drunk acting:
"Last time I saw this you were a little too loose. Loosh, really. Salvador Dali loosh."

My director: "You do something in front of me, I'll watch it and tell you what I think."

My director: "I spent the day being depressed by women."
An actor: "That's what I've been doing my whole life... " (I begin to walk away from them) "...But I love them!..." (I keep walking) "...Olivia!"

An actor, re: Halloween costumes:
"I've decided I am going to be heterosexual on the 31st. I'll just wear my jeans and a t-shirt without a belt. And with dirty underwear. And a Heineken."

My SM: "It's amazing what you DON'T spill all over your script"

Re: terrible productions of West Side Story
An actor: "It was just a bunch of white gay men pretending to be scary puerto ricans."
My director: "Sounds like a Saturday night in NW to me..."

Re: a sound cue
My director: "Those bells are great. They're really, you know, God be praised. But in a quiet, nice way."


And, finally, Maria talking to me about theater, so it's relevant:
"MAN you have the best luck with actors. I mean, I love the show I'm working on, but all I got is three black gay men telling me my jeans look good."

xoxo
okm