I won’t go into the sadder parts of what happened during this production – it’s just too soon, and it’s not my pain to speak of.

I will speak about my actual pain.

Opening night, I was on. I could feel it. I had my lines, the blocking, my entire body was trembling with emotion. We completed the banquet scene, and Ben (my Macbeth) pulled me offstage center by the neck just as he’d done a thousand and one times in rehearsal and tech.

This time though, I missed the stairs leading off of the set. The lights went dark, my foot found nothing but air, and the only thing you heard was a loud crash. I got up quickly, clutched onto Ben and said “GO.” – true to his craft, he pulled me along as the lights came up and kept the “scene” going.

I immediately ran to the dressing room, shouting for people to get out of my way, and had others stripping my clothes off of me. The crash, was my face hitting a light that was on the floor. My nose was broken. I had a gash on my nose that was bleeding profusely. We stopped the bleeding, got my wig changed, my costume on, and I went out almost as soon as I was ready and did my sleepwalking scene.  By the end of that, I had blood trickling down my nose.

Thankfully, the audience thought it was a special effect. I even heard people saying that my “out damn spot” was so good, they felt my pain.

As soon as that scene was over, I walked off stage again, and at least three grown men held me and told me I was their hero. By the time curtain call came around, the cast cheered me on more than Macbeth.

So here I sit, the last show is done, but the black eyes remain. It’ll heal, but I’ll still have a hellova story to tell people later.

And I’ll tell them the curse is real.

This past year has been a whirlwind. Since directing/producing/costuming/stage managing/running lights & sound/writing my show last summer From Shakespeare, with Love, I’ve been non-stop theatre kid. So much so, that both of my favorite directors have said I am the hardest working person in showbiz, and this past weekend, one asked me to slow down because he’s afraid I’m going to end up having a heart attack from the stress of it all.

First was A Streetcar Named Desire where I played Stella. I wouldn’t normally say I’m a “Stella” type. I can be mousy, sure, but 90% of the time, I’m cast as the unbreakable strong woman who has a bitchy side. Stella is so much more contained than that. It was an experience to see the flip side of the coin, and I was so happy to have the chance to play someone who is so raw and vulnerable in those short little bursts. By the end of it, I had my “moment” – Other theatre people know what I mean by that – The moment you have in the show where it just… clicks. Where everything makes sense, and where you really and truly feel it. For Stella, that moment was right after the dinner and when she went into labor. I had rehearsed the line “you didn’t have to do that.” a thousand different ways, and had already made the choice of tactic. When the lights were on, when the performance started, the audience was there, I turned around, looked at James (Who was playing Stanley) and said “You didn’t have to do that” – In that moment, I started to cry. I had never cried before, it just wasn’t there before. I felt it then. It was Stella’s breaking point, the point at which she started down the path to become Blanche. My friend Ben has said many times, that when you’re onstage, there are many emotions floating around – eventually one wins out.  I didn’t expect it, but it happened, and I went with it. That moment made Stella who she was.

Next was Kill Me Deadly in which I had to overcome a lot of my own personal issues. I was cast opposite James again, and he has told me since then, that he often had his doubts on if I could play this part or not. I was Mona, the femme fatale. Most of the time I am comfortable with myself, and my body. I know I’m not as skinny as I could be, but I am a happy size 10. Not small, by any means, especially in the acting world, but I feel as if my shape is womanly and beautiful in it’s own right. Mona shattered those perceptions. I had to play a woman who was stunningly beautiful. Someone who sang (ONSTAGE!) and sauntered around like she knew she was gorgeous. So in that, I had to believe it myself. They put me in a slinky red dress, which showed every bump and curve and fluff. How was I supposed to compete against these nubile in-shape 20 year olds? On top of that, I had to sing a song, all by myself, onstage, in the middle of the show. I haven’t sang onstage in 10 years. By the end of it, I put my makeup and costume on, and honestly believed I was beautiful. It was an amazing thing.

Now we have Macbeth. I am playing Lady Macbeth. The entire prospect of it terrifies me, but at the same time I am so excited I don’t want it to ever end. The director is pushing me in places I didn’t know I needed to work on. Yesterday, at our one on one, he had me go through my longer monologues, and picked apart where I needed to work on it. His biggest note? I needed to form a deep, visceral connection to the character.

That sent me spinning. I thought I already had done that. I thought I was there. Clearly I had not. He told me I was saying everything perfectly. My voice was there, my movements… but he didn’t feel it. That I was making safe choices. This of course, caused me to seriously consider my acting ability. Sure, I had had those moments – like the one in Streetcar, but I hadn’t had an entire show like that.  He was asking me to do that.

The question now, is am I capable of doing it? I’ve spent my entire life being in control of my emotions. Of keeping myself in line, so that I play everything safe. Now I’m being told that I have to do the opposite. I have to let myself go, and just feel. I am scared. Beyond scared. I am terrified of letting go completely, because I don’t want to stay there. If I let go, will I be able to get back? That is the major question on my mind. I want to make this performance something great, but will I lose myself in the process?

One such story is about his grad school. At his college, every year they would put on a show about Lincoln. Now this show gained a bit of notoriety, and because all the actors in the show were at least semi-professional, a lot of people came to this show every year.

One year, it had rained all day long. The stage was slick, and although they tried soaking up water, the way the stage was built, it just stayed slick. They considered cancelling the show, but the actors all said they would rather go on, especially because a few had family coming that day. On with the show!

Meanwhile, Mike was backstage with the other actors, preparing to go on. He kept joking and laughing “SOMEBODY IS GOING DOWN TODAY! SOMEBODY IS GOING DOWN!”

Sure enough, as soon as the show started, Mike walked on stage and he went down. Slipped on the boards and busted his butt. He got right up and kept going, but it was a lesson in Karma, I suppose. Or just a funny story.

Well, last night, at Beyond Therapy rehearsal, we came across a problem. You see, at one point in the show, a vase has to be broken. The director was adamant about not using a sound cue there, and instead, actually breaking a vase backstage. We thought originally to break it in a box of gravel, because the glass would be contained. Not so. The sound came out wrong, and the glass still sprayed.

So Jenn, the stage manager, tested a few theories and found that putting the vase inside a plastic garbage bag, then hitting it with a hammer would produce the sound. Minimal glass problems too.

So I went backstage, informed the actors of what we were doing, and the whole time – made jokes about it. “SOMEBODY IS GONNA GET CUT! YOU ALL SIGNED WAIVERS! I’M WEARIN GLASSES, YA’LL GONNA LOSE AN EYE!”

Sure enough, the moment of truth arrives. Jared holds up the bag and smacks it with the hammer. What we didn’t know, is that someone forgot to change out the garbage bag. It was an old one that already had glass broken in it twice. Thus, glass shot out sideways, and lodged in my toe.

I’m fine, it wasn’t a huge cut, but it hurt.

As soon as it happened though, I thought of Mike, and realized there is such a thing as theatre Karma.

Let me preface this by saying – I am normally a fairly patient person.

Things I vow not to do as a director:

1) I will not say “I will do costumes” and then proceed to just tell everyone what to wear, instead of actually going out and getting it for them.

Because this happened, Jared and I made a mad dash for the mall after he got off of work. While there, desperately trying to find a decent shirt, it dawned on us that although the company would reimburse us, if for some reason the director at the last minute decided that she didn’t like the color/cut/pygmygoatfartinafrica then we would be stuck with a 20 – 30$ shirt that we didn’t want. More than that, that is 20 – 30$ that we would get back god knows when, and quite frankly, that money could be used for things like… food.

2) Once tech week arrives, I will not step in. It is my duty as a director to direct artistically. Tech, is for techies.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand wanting everything to be perfect – but there comes a time when you need to step back, and let people do their jobs. There is nothing more infuriating to both the actors, and the tech crew, than micro-managing them. Trust them. If you don’t trust them, don’t use them at all. I walked into the theatre tonight escorting a person who had never stepped foot in the place before, who was running sound for us. I was in the midst of giving her a tour of the facilities, when I was told that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing, and that I should be following the orders of the stage manager. Since the stage manager had told me not 30 seconds previously “Please give this person a tour” I was pretty sure I was doing my job. Instead, I sat backstage for the next ten minutes, avoiding the director and repeating the mantra “Manslaughter is wrong.” This caused me to spend the rest of the night (and most likely the rest of the run of the show) spending precious time and effort actively avoiding said director.

By the end of the night, the entire cast and crew was making plans on how to slip Xanax into her soda.

3) Even if I think I know how to do everything, I will not underestimate my actors and crew.

Lengthy explanations are not needed if a crew member says “I know how to do it.” Nor are explanations every single time an actor says something in a way I don’t necessarily like. I may have done this a million times before, but that doesn’t mean that the person next to me doesn’t have just as much experience, or can do it in a way that is more efficient for them. There is absolutely no reason to be that rude to people.

I’m sure I’ll find more throughout the week.

I’m actually working on two shows right now. The first, which goes up this weekend is Beyond Therapy by Christopher Durang. I didn’t get cast in this show, but I am ASM (Assistant Stage Manager) for it. I’ll be working backstage. It was kind of nice to take that break from the lights, but it’s got some serious problems. I don’t know if I have the energy to bitch about it right now, so I’m going to focus on more positive things… like ‘night, Mother by Marsha Norman.

We have just begun rehearsal on this one. I came up with the idea during The Lion in Winter by James Goldman, where I played Alais.

See?

Okay, so I’m in the background of that one, but it’s still one of my favorite photos from this show. Plus Jared is in it and he’s a hottie.

Anyway – I got the idea one day right before the show. It bothered me to no end that so many people seemed to want to be part of the theatre just to see their names up on the marquee. Fame and no fortune was the game, and I was starting to get sick of it.

And of course I did what I always do when I see something I don’t like – I changed it, or at least created another avenue.

I thought of putting on a show with my company that was a benefit. A way for actors and other theatre people to give back to the community using their art. The first script I thought of was ‘night, Mother by Marsha Norman.

‘night, Mother is about a woman named Jessie, who announces at the beginning of the play that she is going to kill herself later that evening. Her mother goes through all five stages of the death process with her, until at the end, the play reaches it’s dramatic, and inevitable ending. Jessie goes into her bedroom, locks the door, and shoots herself.

My thought was to produce this as a suicide prevention benefit. Sure enough, the other members of my company loved it, and the project was born. We got in touch with the local LifeSavers group in the area who will receive the money, and found a place to put it. We even cast the show! We’ve started rehearsal too, so the majority of this blog will be about that process.

Stay tuned for more, as it arrives!

Busy with what you may ask?

Why the theatre of course!

The other thing that has been keeping me from blogging is that I don’t feel like I have much of a focus for this blog. However, I saw that one of my dear friends and co-president of the theatre company that I created (Story of that forthcoming) created a blog called “Under the Blues” which I will add to my blogroll. Under the Blues is a reference to the lights one uses to work backstage on a production. Blue lights make it so that the stage crew can move around set without the audience seeing much. Her blog made me think “Hey, why aren’t you blogging about this shit too?”

So, I guess I better start at the beginning.  Ismene.

Last year, right after the big storm that knocked out our power for a week, a few friends and I sat around drinking wine one night and talked about how we would love it if there were a theatre company that did more than what the local companies were doing.

In the area, there are two colleges that do theatre, as well as a slew of local companies, but each has their own problems. Notably, we wanted a company that would be willing to do the classics, and edgier pieces. Not only that, we wanted to make sure that everyone had a chance to take part in it – not just an elitist group of people.

With wild ideas in hand, we formed the Three Graces.

Our first production was Ismene, which is a locally written play that continues the Oedipus cycle originally written by Sophocles. It deals with Oedipus’ youngest child, Ismene, and what happens to her after the story of Antigone is over.

We cast it, ran it, and performed it with our own heaps of problems, but above all, we learned from it.

Because of that, I want to keep this blog. Partially as a reminder to myself of what has been done, and what I could do better, and partially as a tool to beginning actors, directors, and theatre companies on what to do, and more importantly what NOT to do. Because I make mistakes. A lot of mistakes.

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t skated in probably 15 years.”

“That’s ok.” she said. “Most of us hadn’t either until they started in June.”

So I read and watched youtubes about Roller Derby, then went to practice last night – assuming I was just going to watch. (I hadn’t skated in ages, surely the coach wouldn’t throw me to the sharks?) Oh no. No no no no no. I get there, and see not only a ton of the punk gals I used to hang out with ages ago at the local punk house – but they say “Throw on some skates and pads, meet us on the floor.”

Me, being the adventurous type that I am, complied and found that skating like bike riding, comes back to you after a few laps around the track. I’m certainly no professional, but I could manage to do one or two laps without falling on me bum.

Then the level 1′s (The ones who have passed the basic tests – ie, falling, stopping, skating backward, safety, balance, etc) went off to learn blocks and whips, while I and a few other gals went with the Ref to learn the “Fresh Meat” things. You see, they call us newbies Fresh Meat. I watched for a few, and realized I was a bit… overdressed. Most of the gals were in fishnets, short shorts, or skirts, one gal even had stockings painted on her legs, and not much else. I chilled in my jeans, thinking the more protection the better, right?

Oh, I was so wrong. When you wear those big knee pads, what you don’t initially realize is that if you wear pants (especially stiff ones like jeans) under them, they tend to bunch, shift, or otherwise cause discomfort. I have learned my lesson. I went out and bought tights and fishnets.

Anyway – We did drills – and let me take a moment to remind you all, that by this time, I had gotten on skates for the first time in 15 years only 10 minutes ago – we did drills of falls. Sure, this looks like fun, I thought to myself. It was. It was a LOT of fun. We learned how to fall correctly (because you WILL fall. Either by losing your balance, or by being knocked over, or tripped) we learned how to fall on one knee, then the other, and recover, we learned how to fall on both knees, how to do a slide, how to turn around while falling on your knees and sliding backward, we learned how to fall on your knees then slide down to your elbows, all the while going as fast as you can on skates.

Then we did drills of skating backward, turning, crossover steps, and eventually Hercules drills – where five people line up, and the back person pushes them all around the track, then switches and pulls them around the track. Pleasant, no? Painful? Yes.

I am sore today. I knew I would be. I am also very, very happy. I also have two large bruises on my knees, which I wear with pride.

I am officially a derby doll.

I know, I haven’t  blogged in a while. They’re going to take away my blogger lisence.

I have really great news though! I sold my first cake!

Honestly, I wasn’t prepared. On a whim, I made a cake for rehersal for the play I’m producing. I brought it in, everyone loved it, and one of the actors asked me if I could make a cake for a baby shower. Turns out, the woman having a baby is a caterer, who doesn’t do baked goods. She’s interested in doing a partnership with me, and the friend who asked me to bake (who is a professional photographer)

Within a couple of weeks, I had the perfect recipes and some business cards made up – which means I picked a name for my bakery – Nom Nom.

In case you were wondering, here is a couple of pictures of the cake -

I woke up that morning and started on it at 6am. I didn’t stop till I passed the cake off around 9pm.

It’s two ten inch round chocolate cakes on the bottom, topped with two eight inch rounds of chocolate cake on top. I layered it with creme de menthe milk chocolate ganache, and used that as the crumb coat. Then I covered the whole thing in dark chocolate valrona ganache. The truffles I made too, with the valrona chocolate and dusted them with luster dust in green and silver (the colors for the shower).

To top it all off, I dusted cocoa powder on it, and put some chocolate shavings. Man.. that must have been one rich and tasty cake.

Today I made a strawberries and cream cake (homemade whipped cream!) I’ll post pics later if I get around to it.

Om nom nom nom nom.

“I wanted to write something in the tradition of the hallelujah choruses but from a different point of view… It’s the notion that there is no perfection ~ that this is a broken world and we live with broken hearts and broken lives but still that is no alibi for anything. On the contrary, you have to stand up and say hallelujah under those circumstances.”

I guess I’m depressed. There really isn’t any other way to put it. I hate using that term, it’s been construed as only a mental illness instead of a state of being. It forces you to think “I have to fix this” instead of just feeling what you are feeling and going with it. It’s not that I want to be depressed, quite the opposite really. It’s just… I’m feeling this for a reason. It’s a symptom of a greater issue – like a sneeze is a symptom of a cold, or allergies. Treating the sneeze won’t cure the cold, and treating the depression won’t cure the ache that’s in me.

It is an ache. I keep trying to put it into terms. I keep saying or thinking that it’s because I’m back home, or because it’s the summertime, or because I feel like I don’t have direction. It could be all of those things – and that’s not the point. The point is, I am sad.

I am sad. Those three words look so stark and naked on the white background that I type this on. Already I’m trying to think of reasons why I’m so sad, but the reasons are secondary to the actual feeling. I have reasons. I have a thousand reasons to be sad. I also have a thousand reasons to be happy. It’s a choice you make every day, in every moment. A choice in which you decide if you are going to be happy, or sad. Sure, I’m going through the motions of life. I’m plotting my business plan for the bakery, I’m going out on dates, I’m hanging out with friends, I’m holding auditions this weekend for a play I’m going to help produce – I’m living.

And maybe that’s why I’m so sad. I’m living.

My great aunt died last weekend. I didn’t know her well, only from family reunions and the like. She was a great lady, always made me laugh.. but there it is again. Death. I wonder if anyone else thinks about it as much as I do. If “normal” people have the overwhelming awareness that our lives are short, and that death is hanging over our shoulders all the time. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen so much of it in my short life. I’ve seen murders, suicides, natural deaths and everything in between. Death has been as much of a part of my life, as living has. I’ve stared it in the face a few times myself.

Last night I couldn’t sleep at all. For whatever reason, I was afraid of the dark. I was in bed, staring at the ceiling, and felt so alone, so vulnerable.. I didn’t feel safe. It’s not like I had any reason to – I know I could defend myself, I know I could survive a lot of things. I just don’t think I can survive death anymore. Sure, I know everyone dies, that everyone on earth at some point will know someone else that dies. Someone they love, someone they hate, someone they met in passing – I’m not alone in that. I thought about how someday, I’m going to be madly in love with someone, and they will die. They will cease to be. Food will taste like ash in my mouth because they will never taste that food again. I will have known them, and they will just be.. gone. They’ll never take a shower, they’ll never see the stars, they’ll never brush their hair, they’ll never be sad again, or happy. They will just be gone.

Maybe this is why people believe in religion. To give them some comfort that this isn’t the end. That this isn’t all we are. That someday -

Here I am, going on about a reason when I said the point was the feeling. Hard to break old habits, eh?

My finger is hovering over the “publish” button. I’m scared to send this out. I’m scared that nobody will get it, or worse yet, someone will. I guess in the long run it doesn’t matter. I know I’m sad now, but I know it won’t last forever. I know I’ll be back with a happy blog.

I started having them around Christmas of 2007. I thought they were just bad headaches, that I was stressed, that I needed a new eyeglass perscription. Then when February of 2008 rolled around and I was still having these headaches that brought me to tears almost every day, I went to the doctor.

He gave me some pills, which took away the headaches, but left the rest of my body hypersensative – it felt like I had the flu. Finally, about the time I moved out to California, they stopped. I haven’t had one since. Until my power came back on after the storm.

Since then, almost every day, I’ve been having the same headache on the same side of my head.

I keep thinking about people hundreds of years ago that had these.. they must have thought they were going mad. I know I think I am half the time. Yesterday I called my mother and begged her to shoot me in the head, to put me out of my misery, something, anything, to get rid of this. It went away for a few hours, but yet again, I woke up with a dull ache.. and I know within a few more hours, I’m going to be curled up in a ball with the covers over my head, praying for death.

I read once that these types of headaches are called “suicide headaches” and I can believe it. It said – Imagine giving birth without any anestetic 3-4 times a day for a week, or a month. Then getting a few days rest, and it starts over again. That pretty well describes it.

Headaches aside, I’m settling into the country again.

It’s the little things I forgot about that are keeping me happy. A few nights ago, Nate showed up at my door at midnight and said we were going on a trip. We took the back roads, and ended up stopping while a train passed. We got out of the car and stared up at the sky. I don’t ever remember seeing so many stars.

We got to our destination – the spillway, which was overflowing. It’s the resevoir for Kincaid Lake, and when it spills over, goes in this stunning waterfall. We all swim out there over the summer, but I haven’t seen it this flooded in a while. The roar of the falls set the backdrop while we lay down in the grass and connected the dots of the stars. You just don’t get that in the city.

Tonight I’m headed over to Jen’s place. Sarah, Jen and I are going to sit down and make a plan for a new community theatre project we have been talking about for over a year now. I don’t know if it will ever amount to anything, but I’m excited at the prospect.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a lot of aspirin and lay in bed, maybe I can prevent this migraine before it happens.