You know what got better tonight? THE MOTHER FUCKING MARCH, THAT'S WHAT.
It was awesome. We've had 15 marchers and there were enough that the drummer made it outside and there were still people coming through the doorway. There were people of all sizes, including children. They shuffled along, crossing the work space and the home space without looking up in these looming hats. Our drummer lead them, head up, cigarette between his teeth, grinning. Creepy as FUCK.
I loved it.
But that's me, you know? I love the get-in-your-face kind of stuff. I love the shit that makes you grab the person next you without even realize you're grabbing them. And I love that I'm a part of making that experience for someone.
Tonight, my director got an email from someone who lives near the theater. They said:
"I would kindly like to ask that you stop the snare drumming. It hardly
seems necessary to have drumming run the length of the block or to occur
outside the confines of your studio. I'm not trying to be a crotchety
grump but it is seriously unpleasant."
Sam's response?
"I'll explain and offer her comps. And then she'll just have to deal."
I fucking love my job. And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is it getting better.
Friday, August 31
Thursday, August 30
Wednesday, August 29
On: Getting Better (Far Away Tech - Day 3)
Laughter always makes things better, I've found. Today was a stressful one at my day job and a frustrating one at tech, which means it felt extra long and I was a little cranky.
It doesn't mean I didn't laugh though. Say what you will about theater, I don't know that any other career will you have you in stitches half as severely or a quarter as often.
Director: "Do you work better with threats or rewards?"
Actor: "... Honesty?"
"John, you just missed the best impression of you I have ever seen."
Shouted from another room: "Did she do the monkey thing?"
Director: "Are you nervous yet?"
Me: "I was already nervous. I was nervous this morning; I slept walked; I was nervous last week."
Director: "Well, it's okay. It's not like anybody's coming."
"Samantha, you should not have to be taught how to mock your own children."
Also, this is funny - apparently I'm friends with someone who thinks Hufflepuff is cool.
N.B. This topic seems a little silly now, since everyone around me seems to be getting sick.
It doesn't mean I didn't laugh though. Say what you will about theater, I don't know that any other career will you have you in stitches half as severely or a quarter as often.
Director: "Do you work better with threats or rewards?"
Actor: "... Honesty?"
"John, you just missed the best impression of you I have ever seen."
Shouted from another room: "Did she do the monkey thing?"
Director: "Are you nervous yet?"
Me: "I was already nervous. I was nervous this morning; I slept walked; I was nervous last week."
Director: "Well, it's okay. It's not like anybody's coming."
"Samantha, you should not have to be taught how to mock your own children."
Also, this is funny - apparently I'm friends with someone who thinks Hufflepuff is cool.
N.B. This topic seems a little silly now, since everyone around me seems to be getting sick.
Tuesday, August 28
On: Getting Better (Far Away Tech - Day 2)
Today was much smoother than yesterday - so that got better.
I went out for drinks with my director (whom I am enamored of) and my newly-ultra-good friends and didn't stress about being out late or spending money I don't have - not neccesarily better but nice.
I feel confident about performing in front of an audience and we don't have one for another two days - WAAAY better.
And now, I'm going to stop being awake and start being asleep, which will be much better.
I went out for drinks with my director (whom I am enamored of) and my newly-ultra-good friends and didn't stress about being out late or spending money I don't have - not neccesarily better but nice.
I feel confident about performing in front of an audience and we don't have one for another two days - WAAAY better.
And now, I'm going to stop being awake and start being asleep, which will be much better.
Monday, August 27
On: Getting Better (Far Away Tech - Day 1)
Hello dear readers and welcome to August's rendition of: The Tech Week Blogs.
(Luckily there will be no such posting in September because I'm not in tech again until October after this. Hooray!)
This time my subject will be: Getting Better.
And today, it will be written in three parts.
I.
I picked this topic because it's been pretty prevalent in my life right now. I'm trying to get better about how think and how I feel and tech is, in essence, about the process of getting better.
Everyone gets to walk around on stage talk about how to make it better. The actors put on the costumes and then everyone looks at them and talk about how to make them better. The designers turn on their lamps and their amps and everyone stands around and points at them and jiggles them and figures out how to make them better. I comprehend all of this process and am (generally) really understanding when it comes to giving designers the time they need to get better. The actors have four weeks of rehearsal to get better and the designers have four days; I'm sensitive to the inequality. That is, except for myself. We tech-ed the whole show this afternoon and after we came back from dinner, we had our first tech run. I blew nearly every cue. I ran the wrong fader, started the music too slow, cut off somebody's line. By the middle I was ready to shut the whole thing down and start over again. My good friend is my light/sound designer/composer on this show and after that run he came over to give me some calling notes. I said something like, "Oh? Not seeing your design represented on stage at all wasn't what you wanted??" He looked at me and was like, "Olivia. It was your first time." Which is very true.
SO: I need to get better at giving myself time to get better.
II.
Later, after the actors had all gone home, my light/sound designer/composer/friend and my director and I were all chatting and the topic of children came up. Cameron mentioned how he would teach his son to never use the word "bitch" and I, suddenly, had a perfect vision of what Cameron's son would be like. Without thinking I blurted out, "Ohh! I want to babysit little Cameron." And he started to respond with, "Yes! Auntie Olivia!" at the same time that I concluded with "...since I won't have any children of my own."
Honestly? I should have stopped at "I want to babysit." I know that. I know that. I could have been pleased at the concept of being "Auntie Olivia," we could have joked about me giving his kids liquor or tattoos and then neither Cameron nor Samantha would have to actually hear me express all the shit that is swirling around in my head. Because the truth is, no one needs to hear that kind of stuff from me unless they are a therapist or my mother. I was tired and I like these two people quite a bit and so I let my guard down and it just happened. I shouldn't have. It was foolish and weak, really.
SO: there's another thing to get better at. I need to shut it down. I need to stop speaking it and I need to stop thinking it: the hopelessness, the self-pity, the randomly recent realization that poverty and exhaustion are the shining pillars of my future.
III.
I got home tonight and all my roommates were cuddled up with their boyfriends in their rooms so I went down to my room, sans boyfriend, feeling oh-so-very sans boyfriend. But when I sat down and took a deep breath, two wonderful things happened.
First, I found a note that my good friend from college and recent house guest had left me on my pillow that said:
"This torn sheet of paper looks oddly like the State of Vermont.
Thank you for your endless hospitality. And all of the hot sex.
I'll be downtown tomorrow and Tuesday most likely so say hi.
I love you and you doin' okay gurl!
FUCK THA POLICE."
Then I went online and my good friend from high school sent me an instant message with just this link in it: http://i.imgur.com/FgyUM.gif
I opened it feeling fairly grumpy and almost spit my gum out as I laughed.
SO: the point is, I have plenty of boy friends and they love me and I love them and lo-and-fucking-behold, the night got better.
(Luckily there will be no such posting in September because I'm not in tech again until October after this. Hooray!)
This time my subject will be: Getting Better.
And today, it will be written in three parts.
I.
I picked this topic because it's been pretty prevalent in my life right now. I'm trying to get better about how think and how I feel and tech is, in essence, about the process of getting better.
Everyone gets to walk around on stage talk about how to make it better. The actors put on the costumes and then everyone looks at them and talk about how to make them better. The designers turn on their lamps and their amps and everyone stands around and points at them and jiggles them and figures out how to make them better. I comprehend all of this process and am (generally) really understanding when it comes to giving designers the time they need to get better. The actors have four weeks of rehearsal to get better and the designers have four days; I'm sensitive to the inequality. That is, except for myself. We tech-ed the whole show this afternoon and after we came back from dinner, we had our first tech run. I blew nearly every cue. I ran the wrong fader, started the music too slow, cut off somebody's line. By the middle I was ready to shut the whole thing down and start over again. My good friend is my light/sound designer/composer on this show and after that run he came over to give me some calling notes. I said something like, "Oh? Not seeing your design represented on stage at all wasn't what you wanted??" He looked at me and was like, "Olivia. It was your first time." Which is very true.
SO: I need to get better at giving myself time to get better.
II.
Later, after the actors had all gone home, my light/sound designer/composer/friend and my director and I were all chatting and the topic of children came up. Cameron mentioned how he would teach his son to never use the word "bitch" and I, suddenly, had a perfect vision of what Cameron's son would be like. Without thinking I blurted out, "Ohh! I want to babysit little Cameron." And he started to respond with, "Yes! Auntie Olivia!" at the same time that I concluded with "...since I won't have any children of my own."
Honestly? I should have stopped at "I want to babysit." I know that. I know that. I could have been pleased at the concept of being "Auntie Olivia," we could have joked about me giving his kids liquor or tattoos and then neither Cameron nor Samantha would have to actually hear me express all the shit that is swirling around in my head. Because the truth is, no one needs to hear that kind of stuff from me unless they are a therapist or my mother. I was tired and I like these two people quite a bit and so I let my guard down and it just happened. I shouldn't have. It was foolish and weak, really.
SO: there's another thing to get better at. I need to shut it down. I need to stop speaking it and I need to stop thinking it: the hopelessness, the self-pity, the randomly recent realization that poverty and exhaustion are the shining pillars of my future.
III.
I got home tonight and all my roommates were cuddled up with their boyfriends in their rooms so I went down to my room, sans boyfriend, feeling oh-so-very sans boyfriend. But when I sat down and took a deep breath, two wonderful things happened.
First, I found a note that my good friend from college and recent house guest had left me on my pillow that said:
"This torn sheet of paper looks oddly like the State of Vermont.
Thank you for your endless hospitality. And all of the hot sex.
I'll be downtown tomorrow and Tuesday most likely so say hi.
I love you and you doin' okay gurl!
FUCK THA POLICE."
Then I went online and my good friend from high school sent me an instant message with just this link in it: http://i.imgur.com/FgyUM.gif
I opened it feeling fairly grumpy and almost spit my gum out as I laughed.
SO: the point is, I have plenty of boy friends and they love me and I love them and lo-and-fucking-behold, the night got better.
Friday, August 24
Sayings
I've collected a lot of wonderful quotes lately and I've been keeping them to myself, like a dirty little fabulous-things-hog. I've finally decided to share some of my gems.
"I promise to never spell check your notes again."
"You know how guys are like, 'Nyah, nyah, nyah, I want you, I want you, I want you' and you just have to say 'RELAX.'"
On seeing the artistic director hula dance a little while he played the ukulele:
"I always thought you were cute but now I know you're adorable. I think I'm a little in love."
Pretending to check her iPad in a futuristic dictatorship, an actress mutters:
"No new messages - everybody's dead."
Fourteen year old girl to an adult, male, cast-mate in rehearsal:
"I'm going to take this hat off so I don't break it and then I am going to come and kill you."
A costume designer mentioned a fitting to his stage manager and, seeing the confusion cross her face realized he had forgotten to tell anyone about this fitting. Reflecting, he said:
"Oh, that is not a face I should ever see on a stage manager."
Kelly was asked who would win the fight Olivia v. Jeff Seats (my theater's resident set designer):
"That would go on for days. Days. I would leave and stop caring."
And finally:
"I believe all things to be real until designated otherwise."
"I promise to never spell check your notes again."
"You know how guys are like, 'Nyah, nyah, nyah, I want you, I want you, I want you' and you just have to say 'RELAX.'"
On seeing the artistic director hula dance a little while he played the ukulele:
"I always thought you were cute but now I know you're adorable. I think I'm a little in love."
Pretending to check her iPad in a futuristic dictatorship, an actress mutters:
"No new messages - everybody's dead."
Fourteen year old girl to an adult, male, cast-mate in rehearsal:
"I'm going to take this hat off so I don't break it and then I am going to come and kill you."
A costume designer mentioned a fitting to his stage manager and, seeing the confusion cross her face realized he had forgotten to tell anyone about this fitting. Reflecting, he said:
"Oh, that is not a face I should ever see on a stage manager."
Kelly was asked who would win the fight Olivia v. Jeff Seats (my theater's resident set designer):
"That would go on for days. Days. I would leave and stop caring."
And finally:
"I believe all things to be real until designated otherwise."
Wednesday, August 22
Work
Somedays, like yesterday, I decide that going to rehearsal is the bane of my existence and that I'd much rather do absolutely do anything besides this for forever, please.
And then somedays, like today, I realize that what I love is something incredible and The Universe has given me the biggest gift The Universe can possibly give, which is to fulfill you (a lot) and pay you (a little) at the very same time.
I am working on a production of Far Away right now with the tiniest theater I've worked with since moving to Portland. I am receiving the smallest amount of money I've ever accepted for a professional gig. There are almost no rules at this theater and we've spent the last month kinda of knitting a play together out of text, imagination, love, spare time, and actual yarn. We go into tech on Sunday and I have no real idea what to expect, simply because this process has been so unorthodox. But at the end of rehearsal tonight, as my director gave notes and I re-set all our props, I looked back over my shoulder at a small folding table with five people sitting at it, at a riser covered in preposterous hats, and at a wall lined with hand-made, woolen, art installations and I thought, "Wow, Universe. You've dealt me a really fucking good hand."
Usually, I have a stupidly hard time looking at my life and being grateful. It is really easy to look at what everyone else has and pout. It's even easier to look at yourself and say, "Who the fuck is this bitch?" in a very nasty voice. So I'm glad that, even for a tiny moment tonight, I was able to stop pouting.
And then somedays, like today, I realize that what I love is something incredible and The Universe has given me the biggest gift The Universe can possibly give, which is to fulfill you (a lot) and pay you (a little) at the very same time.
I am working on a production of Far Away right now with the tiniest theater I've worked with since moving to Portland. I am receiving the smallest amount of money I've ever accepted for a professional gig. There are almost no rules at this theater and we've spent the last month kinda of knitting a play together out of text, imagination, love, spare time, and actual yarn. We go into tech on Sunday and I have no real idea what to expect, simply because this process has been so unorthodox. But at the end of rehearsal tonight, as my director gave notes and I re-set all our props, I looked back over my shoulder at a small folding table with five people sitting at it, at a riser covered in preposterous hats, and at a wall lined with hand-made, woolen, art installations and I thought, "Wow, Universe. You've dealt me a really fucking good hand."
Usually, I have a stupidly hard time looking at my life and being grateful. It is really easy to look at what everyone else has and pout. It's even easier to look at yourself and say, "Who the fuck is this bitch?" in a very nasty voice. So I'm glad that, even for a tiny moment tonight, I was able to stop pouting.
Sunday, August 19
Tuesday, August 14
California in T -1 day
Okay, more like... 8 hours. Cause I plan to be across the border by 10a, LATEST.
(Also - Samantha Van Der Merwe has entirely stolen my heart. We just hung out for like, an hour, after rehearsal, talking in British accents and drinking from a $75 bottle of red wine that someone gave us. We kept on looking at each other and going "SHIT. This is EXCELLENT."
And earlier today she said: "What do you do at the end of the world? You find your loved ones, you get drunk, maybe you kill each other.")
California: I'm coming home.
(Also - Samantha Van Der Merwe has entirely stolen my heart. We just hung out for like, an hour, after rehearsal, talking in British accents and drinking from a $75 bottle of red wine that someone gave us. We kept on looking at each other and going "SHIT. This is EXCELLENT."
And earlier today she said: "What do you do at the end of the world? You find your loved ones, you get drunk, maybe you kill each other.")
Sunday, August 12
3
I called The Shmank today and he picked up the phone and immediately said: "Let me guess - you're drunk."
I called Caroline today and I said: "Don't worry, I'm fine."
And she said: "You don't have to be, you know."
That was the nicest thing someone has said to me in a while.
And my newest t-shirt idea?
I'm gonna get a picture of a wheel-barrow and change the front wheel to a circular picture of my face. Probably rotated so it looks like it's rolling with the whole barrow. That way everyone can know that I am always the third wheel. CLEVER, RIGHT?!
I'm pretty fucking hilarious. You should read my blog.
I called Caroline today and I said: "Don't worry, I'm fine."
And she said: "You don't have to be, you know."
That was the nicest thing someone has said to me in a while.
And my newest t-shirt idea?
I'm gonna get a picture of a wheel-barrow and change the front wheel to a circular picture of my face. Probably rotated so it looks like it's rolling with the whole barrow. That way everyone can know that I am always the third wheel. CLEVER, RIGHT?!
I'm pretty fucking hilarious. You should read my blog.
Friday, August 10
Thursday, August 9
Things I learned from Gail Carson Levine
... are numerous.
Despite the fact that I blame her entirely for my total lack of love life purely because she introduced me to Prince Charmont at the tender age of eight and I have been looking for him ever since - despite that, which is no small matter, I owe Gail Carson Levine quite a lot.
The summer I turned eight years old I had three prized possesions:
1. My copy of N*SYNC's No Strings Attached CD
2. The teal boombox I bought from K-Mart after months and months of saving
3. Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted
I brought these things everywhere with me. I listened to that CD at least 1,000 times and I read that book, cover to cover, at least 100 times. I would finish and flip right back to the front, immersing myself in Ella's world of Kyrria all over again.
I learned a lot of things that summer. I learned about a young girl's power of spirit, about the importance of wit, about love that demands sacrifice. I learned how to think about other people and how to deny yourself. I also became the biggest expert on Orges living at 270 Bahr Dr.
So - fast forward fifteen years and zoom in on Current Me, crossing through the Whole Foods parking lot, after having bought lunch for my boss and the designer and director she was in a meeting with. I was, as is my wont, thinking about someone and I remembered something from Ella Enchanted.
After Ella has lost Char, she remembers what she loved most about their time together. She was always able to charm him, which pleased her, but what really brought her joy was when she could surprise him. She wielded her wit like another girl would bat her eyelashes and what Ella loved most was to try to charm him, to strive to make him laugh, to really work to show him a side of her personality he hadn't seen before. When she could bring out that startled laugh of his, she knew she'd captured his attention.
Today I noticed that he seem focused on something other than what was going on and I asked if he was alright. He said, "I'm in pain and breathing through it." I responded, "Mental pain or physical pain?" He gave me one of Char's startled laughs in return, surprised by my question. I got a smile too and he said, "Physical pain."
Like Ella, that was the best for me.
Despite the fact that I blame her entirely for my total lack of love life purely because she introduced me to Prince Charmont at the tender age of eight and I have been looking for him ever since - despite that, which is no small matter, I owe Gail Carson Levine quite a lot.
The summer I turned eight years old I had three prized possesions:
1. My copy of N*SYNC's No Strings Attached CD
2. The teal boombox I bought from K-Mart after months and months of saving
3. Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted
I brought these things everywhere with me. I listened to that CD at least 1,000 times and I read that book, cover to cover, at least 100 times. I would finish and flip right back to the front, immersing myself in Ella's world of Kyrria all over again.
I learned a lot of things that summer. I learned about a young girl's power of spirit, about the importance of wit, about love that demands sacrifice. I learned how to think about other people and how to deny yourself. I also became the biggest expert on Orges living at 270 Bahr Dr.
So - fast forward fifteen years and zoom in on Current Me, crossing through the Whole Foods parking lot, after having bought lunch for my boss and the designer and director she was in a meeting with. I was, as is my wont, thinking about someone and I remembered something from Ella Enchanted.
After Ella has lost Char, she remembers what she loved most about their time together. She was always able to charm him, which pleased her, but what really brought her joy was when she could surprise him. She wielded her wit like another girl would bat her eyelashes and what Ella loved most was to try to charm him, to strive to make him laugh, to really work to show him a side of her personality he hadn't seen before. When she could bring out that startled laugh of his, she knew she'd captured his attention.
Today I noticed that he seem focused on something other than what was going on and I asked if he was alright. He said, "I'm in pain and breathing through it." I responded, "Mental pain or physical pain?" He gave me one of Char's startled laughs in return, surprised by my question. I got a smile too and he said, "Physical pain."
Like Ella, that was the best for me.
Tuesday, August 7
California: T -7 days
When I came home tonight, the entirety of Portland Actor's Ensemble's Twelfth Night was in my living room. I gave hugs, kissed the tops of heads and made my rounds till I reached someone I relatively just met, who asked, "How was your day?"
The honest answer is: "Awesome. I worked at a day job I love and am lucky to have, ate a dinner I made for myself that was both good for me and tasty and then I went to my night job, which I love more than my day job and now I'm home and a ton of people I like are in my living room."
What I said was: "Um, okay."
My theory is that I said that, and felt that, and meant that because I am tired. Not I-didn't-sleep-enough-last-night-tired but I-need-to-do-something-other-than-work-and-work-related-activities-for-a-period-of-longer-than-twenty-four-hours- tired. Just because I love my work doesn't mean I can't treat it like, well, it's work. Because it is. And if anyone who does not work in theater wants to have a conversation with me about how what I do is solely fun, I will gladly have that conversation... at one in the morning when I'm done working.
The point is: Maria and I and maybe her cast member Danielle and maybe my friend Kailyn are leaving for California in seven days. My excitement levels are already approaching Category 5 winds, so I don't even want to think about how antsy I'll be by the time this baby makes landfall, if you get my drift.
On my drive home tonight I started to plan road trip car snack. SEVEN DAYS TOO EARLY, MURPHY. My brain don't care.
In seven days I will be going 70 mph heading like a bullet for Santa Cruz, California.
(That, in case you missed it, was my wailing that Phantom Planet song.)
The honest answer is: "Awesome. I worked at a day job I love and am lucky to have, ate a dinner I made for myself that was both good for me and tasty and then I went to my night job, which I love more than my day job and now I'm home and a ton of people I like are in my living room."
What I said was: "Um, okay."
My theory is that I said that, and felt that, and meant that because I am tired. Not I-didn't-sleep-enough-last-night-tired but I-need-to-do-something-other-than-work-and-work-related-activities-for-a-period-of-longer-than-twenty-four-hours- tired. Just because I love my work doesn't mean I can't treat it like, well, it's work. Because it is. And if anyone who does not work in theater wants to have a conversation with me about how what I do is solely fun, I will gladly have that conversation... at one in the morning when I'm done working.
The point is: Maria and I and maybe her cast member Danielle and maybe my friend Kailyn are leaving for California in seven days. My excitement levels are already approaching Category 5 winds, so I don't even want to think about how antsy I'll be by the time this baby makes landfall, if you get my drift.
On my drive home tonight I started to plan road trip car snack. SEVEN DAYS TOO EARLY, MURPHY. My brain don't care.
In seven days I will be going 70 mph heading like a bullet for Santa Cruz, California.
Caaaaaaliiiiiifffoooooorrrrnniiiiaaaaaaa, coooooommiiiiinnnnn HOOOOOOOMMMMEEEEEEEEE.
(That, in case you missed it, was my wailing that Phantom Planet song.)
Sunday, August 5
Friday, August 3
Thursday, August 2
Aaron Sorkin
BREAKS MY MOTHER FUCKING HEART.
No, actually, after I watched ep5 of The Newsroom tonight I lay on my couch and convulsed in loud, tear-less, sobs. Maria was sitting next to me kind of patting my head while I wailed.
I want to live in an Aaron Sorkin show. I want to run about and care tremendously about what I do and drink and fall stupidly in love and be very smart and threaten people and mean it and confess myself to people and mean it and invest my whole self into something heroic.
I want my work-week to be an Aaron Sorkin show and my weekends to be a country song.
No, actually, after I watched ep5 of The Newsroom tonight I lay on my couch and convulsed in loud, tear-less, sobs. Maria was sitting next to me kind of patting my head while I wailed.
I want to live in an Aaron Sorkin show. I want to run about and care tremendously about what I do and drink and fall stupidly in love and be very smart and threaten people and mean it and confess myself to people and mean it and invest my whole self into something heroic.
I want my work-week to be an Aaron Sorkin show and my weekends to be a country song.
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