Surviving the band saw

Listen my dear children, and you shall hear a wonderful tale, a tale of great trimuph, suffering, and polygonal tribulations which afflicted the lives of two Team-Death Putas.

It was on a Sunday of All Hallows Eve when two Putas by the names of Dick and Jane could be found in Turner auditorium at the second day of the Six Characters load-in. Very tired were they, as Jane had spent the night before partying as Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, and Dick had stayed up into the we hours of the morning taking delights in the pleasures of Taco Bell and cartoons. As work began to get underway, Dick asked Jane for assistance in crafting a device that would fill a gap in the lift of the stage, a task that would provide them with tears, laughter, sweat, snot, and memories for years to come. After taking measurements for the gap-filler on his arm, Dick and Jane frolicked into the Turner shop and transferred these measurements on to a piece of scrap plywood; many markings were made, as none of them seemed to match up into the shape of the actual gap. When the two were satisfied with their strange polygon, the took the lumber to the jigsaw and cut away, afterwards bringing their shape to the gap, and realizing, much to their dismay, that it was too large. Oh, the sorrow that befell our two carpenters! Sadly, Dick and Jane traipsed back to the shop with a new set of measurements and cut a new, more streamlined shape. Taking in again back to the gap, horror crossed their faces as their new piece of wood was too steep to fit in the hole. What agony they went through, what pain! Not one, but two failed attempts! What were our putas to do? Feeling very down on their luck, but still keeping their spirits high, they sidled into the shop for one last attempt, measuring acutely, tracing accurately, and cutting precisely what they thought they'd need. Would this third foray work? Would their tribulations be at an end? They certainly hoped so. Dick and Jane took their shape expectantly to the gap, and lo! It fit! Completely flush on all sides, their unonrthodox polygon finally did the trick. Oh, frabjous day. After finally accomplishimg their task, the screwed on a leg, and one more piece of lumber for the gap, thus ensuring that their efforts would not be in vain.

And so, Dick and Jane skipped merrily home, after spending two hours triumphing over strange angles and measurements, knowing that they forged against all odds the formation of a wooden masterpiece.

Next time, someone stop me

Lesson of the day: I should never try to be sexy. Ever.

This is why.

My god, I look like a reject from a porno. A really bad porno.

The Phocian has the patience of a god

"Yesterday's rehearsal was terrible, and we needed that, but today's rehearsal was terrible and we didn't." Yeah, that about sums it up. Our run of Act II sucked more than a drunk cheerleader, and that's a lot of cock. It was one of those things that, when it was over, we knew it was coming, and The Phocian knew we knew it was coming, so he spared us. Not too much opprobrium was heaped, thankfully. The rest of rehearsal went really well (at least I think it did), I think partially because we all knew that we had to make up for the crap that we just put under The Phocian's nose. We worked some scenes and talked about motivations and all that good stuff, but my favorite part was when I really talked with the man that plays The Father and The Phocian about "the scene" and all the dynamics of it. For so much of this, I've just been taking my cues from other people, and when the three of us were talking, I finally felt that I had something to say that was actually worth saying. I must be growing.

Moral of the story: I know that you can't have an "off day." It's balls to the wall the entire time; don't let there be a need for heaping of any sort. And finally, one "F" that wasn't on the original Fifth Sun list......

Fuck Opprobrium

Most worthless piece of research ever.

Really. I promise. These people need to get a life. Research how I can best get David Hyde Pierce to sleep with me. That will be worth something.

Compliments to NDC

Came across this piece of dailogue while perusing the Pirates of Penzance script.

"Do you mean that in order to save his contemptible life, he dared to impress our incredulous simplicity?"

No actor should have to say that. Ever. So much for "heaping opprobrium"......

I just talked to my family for the first time in far too long. I didn't realize that it had been that long; being busy does that to you, I suppose. Anyway, nothing terribly earth shattering is going on back home, but the thing that got to me the most was talking to my little brother and sister. Their voices sounded so different; when I was handed over to the brother, I just about started to cry. He started going into this in-depth summary of a book he was reading, and I just saw (or rather, heard) so much of myself in him. And rather than make me happy, it's made me sad, and I'm not sure why. I suppose I'm mourning the fact that I'm not going to get to watch the brother and sister grow up. I won't be there to intimidate their first boyfriend/girlfriend, can't help them out with their classes and tell them what it's like to be an adolescent. This is really getting ridiculous, I need to stop being sappy. I hate it when things get to me like this.

The Playas Ball was interesting, had an okay time. I totally felt sexy as hell, though, in my naughty school-teacher/sectretary look. My favorite moment of the night: Chad coming up to me and saying, "Are you a skanky secretary? Man, you can take my dictation any time you want!"

Rehearsals were decidedly non-heinous. They went pretty well, in fact, despite being off-book for the first time. All I need now is that song and dance....

Rocky Horror Glory

Winning a $20 gift certificate to Hastings for walking around in my underthings (or, rather, Red's) was more than worth being hit on my random men, and all the strange looks I got from people.

Obligatory update of the sentence-fragment variety

The Boy and I broke up. So it goes.

Rehearsals are going incredibly well. Off-book on Sunday.

Got ass-raped by a Geology test this morning. That's right. Raped. Right up the ass. The two-fisted, no lube, prison variety rape. I'm thinking of pulling an Ophelia and drowning myself in the shower after this post......

The Ls have been incredibly supprtive of me and all my stressed-out craziness, and for that I thank them.

Something that was said to me today that I found both amusing and disturbing, "When you make love, I picture it like a piano concerto. PLayful, beautiful, yet tricky, full of surprises." To which I replied, "Like Rachmaninov?" and he agreed. Lesson of the day: When I make love, it will be like a piano concerto by Rachmaninov.

Corsets are the bane of my exestance, but more on that later. I fully intend to devote an entire diatribe to these instruments of torture.

Am in desperate need for a distraction of the party-merriment-making sort, but due to the ever impending off-book deadline, and my need to study for 3 exams next week, not sure if that will happen.

Have a stomach ache.

Been talking to Ninja via e-mail quite frequently. His mails are so filled with hilarity that they provide just enough of that much needed distraction to get me through the day.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I am composing this entry from the UC. What cirsumstance would these be, you ask? The R and her revolting other (only truly revolting in the sense that his present position is the subject of an oncoming rant) are in the room canoodling in the R's bed and snoring so loudly that one would think some one is operating a leaf blower from inside our quarters.

I don't mind that the R is rarely home due to her galavanting about the her guy, in fact, I enjoy it. Gives me plenty of time to study, rehearse free of ridicule, and work on my incredible flying machine. She only sleeps here about 3 nights a week (oddly enough they're mostly weekends), and so when she comes home in the morning, she proceeds to sleep all day. Now, I could deal with an occasional nap or two, but her chronic state of unconsciousness is driving me to distraction. I can't play music, watch television (not that I ever do), study (I talk out loud to myself. don't judge me), or rehearse without disturbing her. I could really just go about my business as usual, but a.) I have no spine, and b.) my politeness is ingrained in my very being no matter how much I try to get it out of my system.

After I leave here, I'm off to the library to do some research on Chinese water torture, and then back to the room where I intend on employing those methods and some techniques that include a catapult, peanut butter, used pop bottles, a kitten, saur kraut, and a copy of Prince's "Purple Rain."

Jew out of Carolina

This weekend has been largely unproductive, but I've had the best time, despite both the absence of The Boy and the constant annoyance of an ever-present knot in my right calf that continues to spasm at inopportune moments. Spent lots of time with some people I haven't realley talked to in a while on Saturday; it had been a while since I had just "chilled" with people. Watched The Patriot, which I actually enjoyed, despite my normal aversion toward war movies. One of the girls' take on the film:

"None of this would have happened if the Jews had just stayed out of the Carolinas."

Later she and I had an exchange of words that went a little something like this:

Me: Did you just ask me to touch your pumpkin?
She: What?! Heh heh.... (singing)La la la...I want you to touch my Republican!!!
Me: .....Like...Bush...like my vagina...?

Oh, my.

An end to speculation

One of the Ls asked how things are with me. The answer is good and bad, but the good has been caused by bad, and the bad will overall do more good for me than anything else.

Talked to The Boy. After 5 days of speculation about his abscence, I finally swallowed my pride and called him last night, thinking that something might actually be wrong with him, and I've been an idiot for not calling. He's not there, I leave a message, he doesn't call back, I resume my logic in thinking that he is an ass. I turn on my cell after tonight's rehearsal to find that he has left me message, in which he said those 4 dreaded words: we need to talk. I braced myself.

A tired, beaten, and thoroughly disheveled Boy greets me at the door. Turns out things of a highly sensitive nature have been happening in his life at the moment (won't elaborate out of respect), which explains why he has been so distant. We go on to talk about how sorry he is about not being around, and how much we want to pursue things with eachother, but in light of recent events (his current trauma) it might not be such a good idea. He didn't want to get emotionally attached at such a turbulent time in his life, not to mention the fact that our schedules are such that we won't be seeing much of eachother for a while (Six Char. for me, 2 studio hours for him). Bottom line: we aren't over, but we aren't quite together, either. I'm upset, but not for that reason. I'm not sad for myself, or "us" - I'm sad for him. I want things to go well for him, and I don't want him to think that he has any sort of obligation to me that will result in him putting me before himself. Because relationships aren't my thing; I'll get over it, it's not a big deal. I've always been the type of person to put everything else ahead of any significant other I may have, and since rehearsals are now in full swing, I don't feel bad about being that way anymore because I've been given liscence to.

So, to sum up, I feel good about finally knowing why The Boy has been distant, but bad that the reason was what it was. Now that I know why I haven't seen much of him, I feel bad about about what that means for us, but know that in lieu of everything else going on in my life at the moment, it's probably for the best.

Becoming my gender

Have not seen The Boy since Friday, and only spoke two sentences to him on Saturday (inquiring about the cast party); I took the initiative in both instances, and he has made to effort to contact me since then. Baffled much? You could say that. Not exactly sure what is going on, but I'm quite concerned that I am, well, concerned. Things like this do not bother me. Ever. As a general rule, I'm the one who is distant in the relationship, I'm the flighty one, so for me to be on the other end of the spectrum comes as quite a shock. As Mexiwon't said, "The one thing I could always count on was you not turning into a girl, and now you've gone and ruined it." Indeed. I have turned into a girl, or rather the stereotypical girfriend, and I know exactly when it happened. One night about a week into our relationship, I was about to go to bed when I picked up the phone and thought, "I haven't talked to The Boy today," and proceeded to dial. I've displayed other symptoms of this supposed "girl-ness" such as wanting to talk more (as opposed to the spooning, and the play wrestling, and those sessions of "passionate necking"), and being happy for no reason. Not quite sure what to do about all of this.

But I digress. He hasn't called, or made any move to contact me in 4 days, despite our extremely close living and working proximity. Thus far I've held strong and not called him, but I'm starting to wonder whether or not that's the best thing to do. He could very well be not calling me because he's upset that I haven't called him. And when I finally do see him (possibly tomorrow at Mexiwon't 's) I'm at a loss as to how I should behave. Should I confront him about said lack of contact, or just act like I'm completely oblivious to the entire thing in my traditional "no skin off my nose" attitude that I've displayed in the past.

In other news, had quite an interesting trip to Wal-Mart with The Cosmonaut. More on that later.

Mind Fuck Theatre

I'm so cold right now that I'm shaking, but I don't really care because I just got back from rehearsal. There is no possible way for me to describe how excited/anxious/scared I am about this show. The Fifth Sun was a show that I was proud to work on because it meant something, and I think it's going to be the same with with Six Characters. This isn't just some bullshit Neil Simon play about a man and woman falling in love (no offense meant). I'm starting to feel all the creativity and passion that Sun instilled in me, coming out again. Of course, I'm still feeling overwhelmed by it all, second guessing myself, and feeling inadequate (as is normal), but The Phocian really inspired me tonight. He said things that both put me at ease, and made me more anxious, but I finally feel like this is something that I can handle. While we were reading tonight, something just *clicked* and I felt it. It was like, "you've got this, stop your bitching. This is right" Corny? Why yes, thank you.

Balls are going into the mother fucking stratosphere for this one. And I'm ready.

"Swing hard in case you hit something."

The Formula

Back by popular demand, The formula:

Hair is over and I don't know what to do. I am so bored right now. If I were any more bored, I would probably be dead. The R is at work, L1 at a meeting, L2 at a study group, and all of my friends are finding ways to otherwise occupy themselves. And I'm here not otherwise occupying myself. I suppose I could go down by the lobby and make new friends, but that would require too much work, and would completely uproot my belief system that all the people in my dorm are douche bags. There is no possible way to describe how bored I am. Studying for stage craft is not helping in the least. Man, I'm bored. Math could probably explain it best; here let me put it in equation form:

Me = X; my boredom level = Y1; my willingness to find a way to be un-bored = Y2; Studying for stage craft = Y3; meeting new people in the lobby= Z; and Fun = BT (Boredom Terminated)

So.....

If Y2 <= Y3 then (( X * Y1) / 0) Z = BT which is predetermined to be error or no boredom terminated, but if Y2 > Y3 then (( X * Y1) / Y2 Y3)) Z = BT where Z is not a required variable

OK guys i just realized this equation is pure genius so it is copyrighted by the PBJT corp. (Peanut Butter Jelly Time Corp.) Which is strictly owned in part by Steven William Shepard.

God, I can't wait for Six Characters to start.

One can only take a room full of dirty laundry and old fast-food wrappers for so long before it takes hold of one's psyche and begins to infiltrate one's dreams with scenes of raging sweatshirts, vengeful frie-holders, and irate ketchup packets. So it is in my life at the moment. I consider myself a very easy going person, short of gutting my cat, there isn't much you can do to piss me off. So when the R started spending less and less time in the room, and subsequently spent less and less time trying to keep it clean, I wasn't exactly spouting off obscenities. Something as trivial as her grubby sweatshirts strewn about the floor doesn't particularly set off any triggers of rage in my mind. And as I myself have been increasingly absent from the room myself (due to cavorting about with The Boy and Hair rehearsals), though not nearly as much as she, I haven't brought myself to do anything about the slightly unpleasant state of the room. She did drive me to a bit of distraction earlier when she left all of her posters unhanged, all of her bags unpacked and on the floor, and her pillows and blankets adorning our floor instead of her bed, all situations which I remedied by fixing myself. I've attempted to put this out of my mind. It really isn't a big deal. However, I may be starting to cave. Normally her pile of mess is contained to her portion of the room, but of late it has been slowly crawling into my territory, and is driving me to distraction. After constant urging from the Ls, I think the time has come for action. I'm not a neat freak by any means, but I do like things a bit organized, if only because we live in such a small space that any clutter creates chaos. I should assert myself, I really should. But I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be reverting back to my passive aggressive ways...........Oh, to have a backbone.

Bush's relation to the Third Reicht

As a thespian, there are some experiences you have in the threatre, whether viewing, or are involved in, that effect you. Seeing Les Miserables and Rent for the first time, and becoming enveloped while working on The Fifth Sun are those experiences for me. You never forget them; their effect is so profound on you as a person and as an artist that you take something away with you. More than moving, these things help shape who you are, at least the good ones do. Friday night, I saw a run of Hair, and to say that I was blown away would be an understatement. I was expecting something spectacular, and I got so much more. Even though I saw an incomplete run (sans costumes and most props), I was floored - I was privy to something so beautiful, so honest, that I started to cry from the opening number, and by thenend of the second act I was bawling, even though I knew what was coming. I'm deeply saddened that I don't get to actually see the show (I'll be doing costume tech. backstage), but I know those who do get to see it will be amazed.

Moving on from the ever-so-corny, to the ridiculously absurd. Devin and Sean supplied me with much amusement Friday in stage craft. Just a sample:

Devin: "Christmas is a nazi holiday. Everything's white. And red. Like blood. Yeah, and green, which symbolizes money, which equals POWER!....Which means nazis."

Sean: "Which means BUSH."

So by association, Bush means either Christmas, or Nazis......