red hair and black leather

Not that I generally make them, but I did make a mental promise to myself to see more shows this year. I've not made it to more than few, unfortunately, and I might let another one slip. I should go see Arms and the Man tonight at TRP, but they're building the Streetcar set tonight and the actors are also meeting ot run their lines. I feel like I should be there. Alternately, I feel like staying home and doing nothing at all.

I do want to go see Hot Comb at the Pillsbury. I am always fascinated by hair and makeup, and a personal story that also deals with the cultural significance of the same is quite intriguing.

Speaking of great hair:
( Mmmm, Bettie Page.... )

It makes sense, as long as we ignore the part where I'm bi and not a lesbian (that whole pesky "married to a man" bit). I'm still very much a femme....

Yessir, it's been 6 months since I decided to take a header off of a veranda. Another 10 days, and it will have been 6 months since my surgery to correct the damage caused by said header. 2 titanium plates, countless Percosets, and half a year later, I am here. Now I get to go to the doc and find out if any nasssssty bloodborne illnesses found their way in during all of that excitement in various hospitals. If the answer is negative, I get to get another tattoo. Yay!

My bodily recovery has been nothing short of amazing. None of my dentists nor the CT scan tech could tell that there had been any damage to my right cheekbone (until they started working on the affected area, of course). I wonder if it's too late to send a thank you to the ENT specialist who restored my face?

The mental recovery - we know how that's going. Slowly, slowly....


I have to move cubes today. Not only that, but I'm also the one in charge of moving all of the mail station crap. Not that that's ever been expressly pointed out to me, but I know it just the same, because I am the maid of the floor. I'm sure I'll do it wrong, just like I set up the copy room wrong (oh horrors, I set it up how it would be best and easiest for me to use it, because I'm the one who basically lives in there).

Uber-competitive people and perfectionist bosses annoy the everliving fuck out of me. "I *must* win! Ha ha, I won and you didn't! Nyah ne-nyah nyah nyah nyah!" "This isn't the way I want it, and it's your fault. Don't take any initiative, because you won't do it the way I want you to." A hearty fuck you to both classes of people. I wish I could actually say it to faces, but Miss Manners and our bank account forbid such dangerous living.


I ran 9 miles on Wednesday. I meant it to be 10, but I accidentally knocked the Emergency Stop button out at 9 miles and figured it was a Sign. Yesterday, I slept from 6 until 10 and from midnight until 7 this morning. Hmmm. Perhaps one should not run 9 miles and then go out drinking until 1:30 a.m. unless one can sleep in the next day? It's a thought. Since my general health and well-being improves dramatically when I have a 9+ mile run every 10 days (at the very least), I'll have to remember that little fact.


Not much going on this weekend. Take Me Out closes. We have Streetcar rehearsal on Saturday. We found a stage manager for Streetcar! Yay! I'l probably still have to house manage most nights, but that's a better deal. I won't have to watch the show every night - I'll be able to hang out in the lobby and read books. I like that kind of gig.


It's frickin' rainy and cold. Dammit. It's May! I should have packed my winter sweaters a long time ago!


I'd best go pack up my cube. Whee.


What are you planning for this weekend?

I thought I was all the way back from my head injury. Changed a little, of course, but fully functional again. The headaches had almost completely subsided, I was much more on my game, everything seemed to be clicking along...

Yeah. The headaches are back. I'm losing words again. Fnargh. Doc says this is normal and expected, and she understands that I'm worried, but since the CT scan and the bloodwork showed nothing unusual and I've been under a lot of stress recently, she's not concerned about this backslide. Since I trust her implicitly, I'm not concerned either. I reserve the right to be frustrated, however, and plan on exercising that right a lot once I have time.


Tech is going fantastically, actually. Even though the TD has gone AWOL after he built a platform wrong, I'm really happy with where things are. I hope this keeps up.


Shallow fashion details: I have the opening of Richard III on Friday and Z's birthday party on Saturday, both of which are prime dressing events for yours truly. I had originally planned on wearing this dress to the opening (after I got it back from the tailor's, as I am no longer that freaky-skinny and I had to have the bodice let out in order to avoid bisecting my boobs), but it doesn't quite fit with the the show or seem very Shakespearian. So I think I'll wear that one on Saturday, and a slinky maroon velvet column dress with a black velvet cape on Friday. The velvet seems much more apropos for a show about everyone being murdered. There will, of course, be pictures of outfits.


In the realm of hard learning experiences, I offer two personal examples:

1. This job has given me a lot of practice at being around conflict and dealing with it. My boss is not the most patient of women, and I often overhear loud and heated conversations in which errors discussed at length and declared unacceptable. Other times, I'm the one she vents to. So, I'm better at managing my reaction to conflict and anger. This is good, even if the circumstances are not.

2. I think I've become better at setting my boundaries and staying there. My instinct is to bend over backwards and give in and not say anything that would upset someone (until, of course, the inevitable blow-up). Now, I think, I'm better at speaking up earlier and in a non-confrontational manner, and also at saying "these are my boundaries, this is what I need".

I still need to be better at cultivating friendships. I often feel that that will take away time from something else - running, rehearsal, or sleep. I need to make time.


I gave in and purchased eye cream that promises to reduce puffiness and the dark circles underneath my eyes. Normally, I'm a fan of treating the cause and not the symptom - when I started gaining weight back and feeling bloaty, I drastically cut my alcohol consumption. When I started feeling awful every day at work, I stopped staying out and drinking until 1 a.m. every night. Due to all of this, my life is now as ascetic as I can stand, and there's no way I can get as much sleep as my body demands or reduce the amount of stress I live under without giving up theater. So, I embrace the eye cream and hug it to my puffy eyelids. Mmmm, eye cream.


One of the reasons I (usually) love tech week - I lose weight. I do eat, but I'm so energized and up and focused that I tend to drop a pound or two. Now, if I could just get it to stay away, I'd be golden.


Party on Saturday! Yay!!

Well, it's been a busy time here, boys and girls. Between an entire floor remodel here at work and having to re-cast someone in Richard III, I've been doing my best headless chicken impression.

Richard III - well, the super-condensed Cliff Notes version is that it's a veryvery bad idea to say that you'll only take direction "if it's good" and then make a second threat to quit in front of the producer, the first threat having been directed to said producer approximately 6 weeks prior. Producers tend to take actors up on such things after such behavior. Things could have been handled better all around, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't relieved.

Work - they're gluing down carpet as we're here, so I'm getting pretty sick. Unfortunately, they're already doing all they can to blow the fumes away from our area, so I can either go home or suck it up. I am not best pleased. Actually, I'm pretty pissed, and have been pointedly taking breaks to go outside. In the 35-degree weather. Fuck. In addition, I'm apparently the office roustabout and have been moving crap that should have been taken care of by other people all this past week. I don't see that alleviating any time soon, at least not until mid-June, when we're done with this remodel. The one nice bit is that I'm the one who knows how to work all of the shiny new LCD projectors and assorted equipment. Mmm, shiny new equipment.

Back to the salt mines. We start tech tonight, and apparently the set is already walkable. Rock. On. Hopefully this will be a nice boost to actor morale.

Actually, I have been a little update-y, but I either haven't had the time, or I've had to deep-lock it for various reasons. Anyhoo.

So. Went to the doc today, because I've been getting serious headaches that localize on my right temple and just above (the trauma area, IOW). She's a bit worried, so I have a CT scan on Monday. Joy. I was unconscious for my last CT and MRI, so I'm not quite sure what to expect.

The Schiavo case is just awful and scary and I hope the asshats who are trying to use this for personal political gain get their teeth metaphorically kicked in.

Saw As You Like It at the Guthrie on Friday. It was not what I had been hoping for, and I didn't get to network with the people I had wanted to see, but I did hang with some cool peeps and see other friends, so it was not a bust.

We had quite a bit of drama as we started rehearsals for Richard III on Monday. Our Richard had fallen ill and had to have abdominal surgery late Sunday night, effectively taking him out of the game. We spent Monday scrambling to find a replacement. We have, and he is wonderful, so we proceed apace. Still. Stressful.

Z continues in his self-improvement plan. I'm very proud of him. We both need new headshots now.

We will not be able to travel much if at all this year. Therefore, I propose Hallowe'en F2F be here. We have space, we have beds, I'm a hell of a cook, people should come visit.

Spring is Springing at last. I'm waiting to run outside until the last of the ice is gone. The last thing I need is to slip and fall. The treadmill will continue to do for now.


Okay, I think that's it. Peace.

Measure For Measure is dead. We closed yesterday, and within 2 hours of the final bow, there was nothing left to indicate that a show had occupied that space for the past month. All of the instruments were on the deck and awaiting the next hang, the set was in the dumpster, and the actors were gone.

There's a queer (I use the term deliberately) intimacy that springs up during a show. There's the intimacy of dressing and undressing with these people every week, the blurring of societal and personal expectations, and the puppy-pile of draping about the green room, but there's also more than that. You become a loose-knit family, for better or for worse. Sometimes the family created is a dysfunctional one. Sometimes the family is so large that alliances form and re-form. And sometimes, the group is of a perfect size and talent level to allow interesting discussions to occur and mutual respect to grow and flourish. That, I think, is what happened in M4M. I met some wonderful people, got the chance to act with friends, and had a safe space to try something new.

The problem with the lovely intimacy is that it's so transient. We're done. I won't see this group of people all together ever again. Most of the friendships will dissolve into a friendly aquaintance that you're wonderfully glad to see again, but make no effort to see them on a regular basis. I know things about these people that won't be applicable again. I get to work with 5 of the same people on the next project, but this time I'm in a different seat. I'm not onstage with them, so their intimacy will continue in a different direction, influenced by their other cast members, and I will have to distance myself a bit.

It was a wonderful time, a good show, and a great experience. It's one of the few shows that I leave with a bit of melancholy.


Ah, well. On to Richard.

Rare color photographs of World War I. Fascinating and touching at the same time. It makes a distant war seem all that more real.

Let me both curse and praise stephl for linking me to the Bartleby edition of the 1922 Emily Post. I am obsessed with manners books (I desperately want the new Manners book by Kate Spade. Actually, the entire series would not be unwelcome), and Miss Post is the grande dame of American manners, both clever and precise. I aspire to contain that much grace, and will probably fall short of the mark for many years to come. Especially today, as my productivity at work is put aside in favor of reading such observations as this:

It would seem that the variability of the weather was purposely devised to furnish mankind with unfailing material for conversation.

So very true.


Z & I went to see Theater Latté Da's production of La Bohème. Director Peter Rothstein decided to set it in 1940s Paris, using Nazi imagery for the soldiers and putting a Star of David on Colline. There are days when I ungenerously wonder what many artists would have used for conceptual fodder if the Nazis had never come to power. It was a good production overall, but I was reminded that I don't often enjoy opera for various reasons usually associated with the script and pacing. Also, the audiences. Ah, opera audiences, full of pretentiousness and self-congratulation, who either shush everyone around them in a bullhorn voice or else talk throughout the show, commenting on every single little piece of set or staging. We heard no less than four people last night ask during the singing if Colline was wearing a star in the second act. Let's see - we've already seen a representation of Hitler and a swastika on a soldier's arm, and you ask if the yellow piece of fabric on his lapel is a star? Come here so that I may beat you with a clue-by-four. You don't even have the excuse of distance, because the farthest the audience can be from the back wall of the set is 30 feet, and he was downstage. (Side note - the man playing Colline does not look like a basso profundo. I was amazed every time that voice came out of that slight frame.)

We see Pericles Wednesday, and then close Measure For Measure on Sunday. I need some rest.

And I'm only an actor in this one. Sheesh.

The prologue with the sexysexy dancing is set to Garbage's "#1 Crush". Given that I'm a huge Garbage (well, Shirley Manson, for she is Teh HOTT) fan anyway, and given that the song is insidiously catchy, the song has taken supremacy in my brain, even beating out the Pirates Of Penzance libretto. Lyrics follow, just so I can make sure they're somewhere....

I would die for you
I would die for you
I've been dying just to feel you by my side
To know that you're mine
( The rest of the lyrics )

And ganked from noisedesign:
Take the Theater Techie Test!

My results:

Ninja Techie!
Congratulations! You scored 113!
You are a Jedi Master of stagecraft (...this is not the tie-line you're looking for...). You've done a fair bit of everything, and are uber-competent. Blathering directors are impressed by your vast knowledge and experience, and when doing on-stage scene shifts, the audience sees nothing! You have become one with the Gaff Tape.


It must be tech week, because I haven't laughed this hard in a while....

"All of the above, schmuck."

"I am ninja techie! You see nothing!"

I forgot to mention that there is male full-frontal nudity in Take Me Out. As in, they actually take showers onstage. Yeah. That's a big portion of the justification for the scramble right now. Also, a good reason why most community and smaller independent theaters will never do the show. Full workings showers onstage? 'Spensive. Also, a lot of theaters (not to mention actors) balk at the full-frontal. Oh, well.

I was drawn into a discussion last night of Measure For Measure and the problems inherent in setting it (or any Shakespeare) in a modern setting. This one is especially thorny for the lead actress, since her dilemma is so far removed from modern life: sleep with Angelo and spare her brother, or preserve her virginity and let Claudio die? (I am aware that Shakespeare's audience wouldn't have sympathized with her overmuch, but women's virginity was much more of an issue 400 years ago.) The actress mentioned that she had been quizzing her social circle, and that the answers broke fairly cleanly along gender lines, with the men having much less of a problem with Isabella basically prostituting herself for her brother than the women. (Hmmm. A little personal bias creeped in there, methinks.) Our male friend (who's playing Lucio) argued that it's for a life, so even though it's not a fantastic solution, the woman should save her brother. He even said that if the reverse were to happen, and the man had to go to prison a la Oz to save his sister, that it should be done. My argument is that by asking Isabella to give up the one piece of power she has, Claudio & Angelo are asking her to give up her life. She would not be allowed to join the convent - her life's ambition - if she was not a virgin. She would be a woman with no place, no rank, no life. Death would be preferable to such a fate, and she in fact expresses the desire to change place with her brother, so that she may give her life for his.

So, I ask you - what do you think? Which of these fates would you choose, and why? Why do you think the discussion breaks along gender lines?