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.
No comments:
Post a Comment