Getting It off My Chest.

I’m not a happy theater camper these days.  The show I am doing is really starting to annoy the crap out of me, all due to the incredible amount of time suckage it has become and other little annoyances.  I know I bitched about this in my last post, but goddamn.  I need to get more off my chest.

Speaking of chest, let’s just jump right into that.

Rant #1

For whatever reason, the producer/costumer of the show thought it would be best if they make me wear a super sized padded bra under my costume, to play upon the “pair” that my character, which just so happens to be an Au pair, should, what they think, have.

She seems to find this hilarious.  I’m an Au Pair, and I have a pair, Oh my! What a pair!  Get it??  Pair of big fake boobs, playing upon the word Pair in Au Pair? (Anyone else getting this?? ) meanwhile, I feel like a Dolly Parton drag queen.  (With out the big hair and make-up.)

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I think she partially did this because the dress she pulled for me, made me look frumpy, and instead of just finding something that fits and accentuates my already there curves, shoving padding in my bosoms seemed like the natural thing to do.  I mean, who has time to look for a fitted dress, when you can waste lots of time sewing big fake boobs into one?

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(dumb)

I sort of expressed my dismay to both her and the director stating that I thought it looked unbelievably silly and unrealistic; however, the director thought it was a good costume choice and assured me that it did look good.  I have my own questions concerning him. . . He is a seemingly quiet little man with small feet and a foo foo lap dog.  And not gay.  (Not that there is anything wrong with that if he were)  The fact that he was gung ho about the fake boobage makes me wonder if he is 100% testosterone, and like any typical male response to big boosies, giving the thumbs up or if he is just trying to appear 100% testosterone.  (again, small feet and foo foo dog. . .makes me wonder.)

(Side note:  He does have a girlfriend. )

Since I don’t want to be the Diva of the cast, I simply sucked it up and said ok, and grumpily sulked back to the bathroom, where I scoffed once more at my ridiculous reflection.

I don’t know why I am so offended by this costume choice.  It’s not like I am very busty to begin with, but you know, my girls are pretty nice.  I’ve never had any complaints.  I can bust out of a top with no padding.  If it’s one thing I like about my body, it’s them.

Maybe that is why I am taking such offense to my over accentuation.  I know, I should just get over it, do my part and shut up about it. . . but really.  I feel like an asshole.  My inner feminist is probably being over sensitive to the mocking and over exaggeration of my breasts.  ( I could go on a Fem rant here, but I’ll save it.)

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(ehh, maybe it doesn’t look so bad from the front.)

Rant #2:

Again, this whole eating up of my time.  Yesterday was to be double rehearsal with a dry tech run starting at 1 p.m. and then a run through of the show afterwards in full make up and costume.

For those of you not familiar with dry tech, it’s where you go over the lighting and sound cues with the lighting and sound crew.  It’s not necessarily running the whole entire show, but more so a cue to cue, meaning you start a few lines before the lighting/sound cue comes in, let them mark where and what needs to be done, and then move on to the next sound/lighting cue.  Let me just point out, there are not a lot of lighting and sound cues in this show.

Given past experience with shows and how I have been privy to how double rehearsals usually go, I figured we should have be done and out of there no later than 7 o clock in the pm.

So imagine my total surprise and dismay when at 3:30, after we had finished the cue to cue and cleaned up some of the blocking, when the director announced that the next run though with costumes would start at 7pm.  That night.

WTF?

So not only have I had to give up 3 hours of my time a day(6 if you count the driving) for the past month, now I had to sit there for what. . .another 9 hours?  On a Sunday???  That’s some bullshit.

It would be different if I was getting paid for it, but I’m not.  So fuck you.

I wish I could pin point exactly why all these things are really grating on me.  Once again, I have been apart of shows with grueling rehearsal schedules and have had to wear uncomfortable ridiculous costumes in the past. I’m with a theater I have always had interest in working with and I seem to be doing alright with my part.

Why am I so curmudgeonly about this?

Am I becoming set in my ways and getting to a point where I don’t like my “routine” and what I am used to being messed with?  I will admit I  have gotten in the habit where I do like to be in bed by 11 now.  When this crept on me, I have no fucking idea.  This whole being responsible grown up, worried about getting enough proper rest to make it through the next day. . . Total bullshit.

Or Is  my Taurean nature to always be comfortable running a muck?

I have no idea.  I just don’t feel like traipsing about with stuffed boobs.

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Move Over Mrs. Markham

I was asked to do another show.  I love when I don’t have to audition, because let’s face it, auditions suck ass.  Big Time.  Normally I seem to do pretty well when it comes to auditions, I mean, I nabbed the last couple of shows that I auditioned for, but it is always a nerve wrecking experience for me.  It never gets any easier.

 

Lately, I have been pretty blessed to have built up a reputation if you will among certain circles in the community theater world.  The last several shows I have been in have all been because I was referred to the director, or the director already knew my body of work.

 

This last case, I was referred to the director after one of their actresses had dropped out.

 

Hence how I came to be in this show.

 

I truly truly love theater.  The whole process.  From the rehearsals to the actual performance, it is such a journey of creative energy. 

 

Having said that though, there are still some shows, some actors I have worked with, directors, etc, that make the process a bit annoying.  Taxing almost.

 

I dare say that the schedule of this one would be my biggest bitch.

 

It’s not uncommon for shows to be total time suckages when it gets down to the wire and closer to the performance dates.  3 nights a week turn into 5 as the clock ticks down to opening curtain.

 

This show however, has just about been . . . 5 nights a week.  If not 6. 

Granted I came in maybe 2 weeks later than everyone else, and the part is not that big of a part (which only leads to my bitching about time suckage even more, because I am left just sitting around, when I could be out the door and on my merry way to doing something else.)

 

I truly have no time for anything.  The theater, while one that I had been interested in working with for awhile, is about 45 minutes from where I live, and 20 minutes from where I work.  This isn’t too bad, except that when I leave rehearsals at 10 o clock at night, I am not driving back to work.  I’m driving the hour back home, and by the time I get home, it’s pretty much lights out and repeat the next day.  Sleep.  Work.  Rehearsal. Sleep.  Work.  Rehearsal.  Throw in there time in my car, which I might as well just live in at this point.

 

I don’t think I would mind the 5-6 day rehearsing week, if I was done by 9 at the latest.  I think that’s reasonable.  (With the exception of tech week, because god knows what time you’ll get out on those nights.)

 

It makes for an impossible to keep up with my day to day “need to get dones.”  My apartment is a mess.  I still have a huge box of Halloween decorations cluttering up the kitchen that all need to be hung (which I doubt I will get around to finishing decorating.)  Dishes are piling up, the place needs vacuuming, the bathroom scrubbed, floors swept, crap that just needs to be put away where it belongs.

Whatever few precious minutes I do seem to collect before I hit the sheets are usually spent coming down from the day, collecting myself and trying to unwind, so that I can go to bed, and wake up early the next morning.

 

I don’t want to make it sound like I absolutely hate this aspect of theater.  I mean, at times, the time suckage serves it’s purpose, and I accept that this is part of the deal when one is doing a show.  You want it to be good, you gotta put in the hours, and sometimes during stressful points in my life, I relish the thought of doing a show, because it gives me an opportunity to focus on something else.  Something creative, and positive. Truth be told, the time suckage should be useful into pulling me away from obsessing about my personal life at the moment.  (Which I should point out has me stressed out beyond belief) but its not.  There just isn’t that solace this time around.  In fact I think it is adding more so to the stress.

 

I think another factor in my less than thrilled outlook on this show is, if I felt better about the direction of my character, then I wouldn’t mind this whole process as much.  God try as I might, I have no idea how to do a slight Swedish accent, which leaves me feeling very defeated.  I mean, the closest Swedish accent I can do, is the Swedish chef from the Muppets. . . and I don’t think my director would appreciate me running around the stage yelling “Bork Bork Bork!” (Though I would find it highly amusing)

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The cast of course, is incredibly talented (aren’t they always?  Well, ok, not always.) yet I sort of feel like an outsider to the group because of my late arrival being casted and the fact that I bolt out the door when we are done rehearsing so I can make it home by 11.

 

So that’s where I am with this one.  I know it will be a good show.  It’s with a good theater, good cast, good script. . .Should be good.

I just wish I had more time. 

 

But it’s only 3 more weeks of this.  I can make it . . . right? 

 

 

Wine, Women and Hoops.

I had a most incredible weekend.  As I stated before, this past weekend, I had traveled to Jackson, MI with a bunch of girlfriends to celebrate a birthday with wine tastings and female debauchery.

I really wanted to sit down and write up a good weekend, but the words that are coming out just don’t do my experience any justice.

As with the case with my circle of women friends, the level of awesomeness was just unbelievable.  I am often astounded by how truly blessed I am to have such a circle of truly open, honest, supportive and caring women.  It is nice to just be able to “be” with out the cattiness or back stabbing that normally goes about with the female species.

I had rode out with 2 of my closest gal pals, and for 3 hours it was just good raunchy talk.  Maybe because I myself am incredibly sexually frustrated these days, but it was fun to be able to giggle and just be, well, kind of perverted and crass.  😛

(In fact, it was pretty much the whole weekend we were like that.)

I can honestly say that once I got into the car to head out, it was non stop laughter.

The protocol for the day was to visit 5 wineries, all while wearing feathery devil horns to announce that mischief had arrived. Everywhere we went, people commented on how we seemed to be a fun group of gals and wanted to come hang out with us.  (Not to toot our horns, but yeah, they were right.  :P)  We would also hoop for a bit at each winery.

Though the weather was chilly and gray, we hooped out little hearts out to keep ourselves warm.  Ok, more of us did than others.  I being one of the ones who would take refuge in the van after a half hour of feeling like my hands were gonna fall off.

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We did tastings at about 4 wineries, two of which had the most delicious salsa I have ever tasted in my life.  I am not a salsa gal, so for me to be like “I wanna stick my dick in this!  If I had one!” has got to tell you that it was some pretty good salsa.

And the wine. . . So many wines.  I am more of a sweet wine gal, but it was fun to sample all the varieties of wine. . .even if I thought most of them smelled like BO and tasted like I had just licked dirt.

I ate an incredible turkey Panini with cranberry sauce and brie cheese.  Holy shit, was that thing fucking amazing.  I might have to re-create for home.

We ended Saturday night at a winery that was having their “Winetoberfest” where a local band was playing.  We hooped and danced the night away and ended the night by visiting the porn store across the street.

(Even though there was a porn store across the street, this winery was still pretty classy.)

I also acquired a new hoop, I have named Ruby.

She is a polypro wrapped in snazzy glitter red tape and is about 36″.

She is suppose to be a “chakra” hoop, and since I have been working on my root, I decided to go with the red.  She is amazing and handles quite well.  I love the feel of her.

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(That Ruby is a Lush!  Hitting the sparks at 10 in the morning!)

I can’t tell you how re-charged I feel after this past weekend.  I really don’t have many words to describe it other than gratitude gratitude gratitude.  That is totally how I am feeling.

Wine Weekend, Stupid Boy and The Moment.

There has been some upheavals in my “romantical” life.  Not going to get into specifics on this side of things, but there has always been trust issues.  The fact that I have been feeling quite disconnected from my boyfriend, doesn’t help with the insecurities that overwhelm me from time to time.  What he says, and what he does are two totally different things it seems.  That and how it seems that he rarely is ever sympathetic or takes full responsibility for his actions. (and i am not over exaggerating, for others have pointed this out to me as well.)

We had a blow out last weekend which ended with me leaving (once again) and getting incredibly upset, to the point where I threw a bunch of stuff off his dresser.  It’s not behavior I’m proud of, but it happened, and well, what’s done is done.  Nothing broke. It was just a mess he had to clean up.  Not that that makes it any better.

Anyways, this weekend coming up I will be partaking in a Girl’s weekend.  A hoop friend will be coming up from Indiana, and we are all meeting in Jackson, MI for a wine tour. 

After all the drama and stress from my relationship (and general seasonal blase as well, oh, and topped with lingering sadness from my ex’s suicide) I am REALLY looking forward to this.

 

Yet there is still some lingering anxiety over this trip, which comes from the fact that anytime I plan an excursion with my friends, it comes under incredible scrutiny and judgement from the boyfriend(?)

It’s like he can’t just be happy for me or supportive. He can’t just be like “That sounds like fun and I will miss you!”

I know this “feeling” is all with in me.  I need to just be like Fuck you pal, but my “pleasing” nature and my not wanting to rock the boat demeanor keeps bubbling up, and I start to feel bad about wanting to, ohh, enjoy the things I enjoy.

So whatever.

I’m not going to let it get to me.  Instead, I am going to focus on time spent with incredible women, drinking wine, hooping it up and laughing my butt off.

And being in the moment.

Cause that’s what life should be all about.  Being in the moment, and not getting caught up in the insecurities.