So I guess the reason I haven't written this week is because when I haven't been working, I've been travelling 140 blocks uptown to visit apartments that until yesterday I thought were in our price range. Since then we've had to lower the bar about $100. When I haven't been on the subway, I've been napping, since I usually average about 4-5 hours a night. When I haven't been napping, I've been either at the cold reading sessions for Ten Grand Productions (the reason why I am not reduced to a trembling mass at the bottom of the loony bin) or at the gym, burning off the copious amounts of reduced-fare Easter candy that I've felt compelled--nay, forced--to consume as a stress-management tactic.
And the reason that I'm sitting here clicking away in between rows of pink half-dollar Peeps and guilty snatches of Seth's Hershey Minis (except the Special Darks, lest I want my throat slit), is because I need five damn minutes to unwind after the news that Seth and I definitely need to be out by the 31st (which means in three days settle on an affordable apartment in God knows where, apply, get accepted, and move our stuff), because someone definitely dropped the ball when it came to communication, and this time you can't say we weren't doing our part.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
It's like ten thousand spoons whan all you need are your hands and tongue back
Usually I'm not very good at spotting these things, but nonetheless it seems ironic that I would move to a big city to find acting work, only for my first show to be directed by Truman alumni.
It seems similarly ironic that I would get to play Lavinia in Titus Andronicus, a play that I've never studied in any of my classes and had never read on my own. Not just I-was-supposed-to-read-it-for-class-but-I-had-to-label-every-song-in-my-iTunes-by-genre-and-scrub-the-toilet not studying; it wasn't even covered by the curriculum. I skimmed it when I was preparing, but I considered it as equally valuable to brush up the plays with which I was more familiar, and since there were more of those, that task vacuumed up more time.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
Not a bit.
It seems similarly ironic that I would get to play Lavinia in Titus Andronicus, a play that I've never studied in any of my classes and had never read on my own. Not just I-was-supposed-to-read-it-for-class-but-I-had-to-label-every-song-in-my-iTunes-by-genre-and-scrub-the-toilet not studying; it wasn't even covered by the curriculum. I skimmed it when I was preparing, but I considered it as equally valuable to brush up the plays with which I was more familiar, and since there were more of those, that task vacuumed up more time.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you.
Not a bit.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Small (Town) World
The stage manager led me into the room where I was supposed to read for Katharina in Taming of the Shrew with two other people. There was a blond lady, a man in his late twenties, and a dark-haired lady whose name I knew was Sabrina. I got ready to begin the scene.
"Let's see, first of all, Meredith...." They pointed at me like I was the perpetrator in a police lineup. I gulped. "You went to Truman!" The man and Sabrina threw their arms up in celebration.
"Yeah, yeah! Who went to Truman?" I asked.
"We did!" they both responded. Joy surged through my every capillary.
"What year?"
"Two thousand one," the man replied. "It'd be right before you came, so I think Alan Altmansberger would be still around that you know."
"I totally know Alan! Do you know Randy Bame?" I exclaimed.
"Hell yeah I know Randy Bame!" he laughed.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"Brian Waters," he said.
"Oh! I've heard of you!" It rang a heavenly choir of bells; this guy played a key role in many of Randy's tales of the olden days when he first started working in the auditorium.
Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so nervous anymore.
"Let's see, first of all, Meredith...." They pointed at me like I was the perpetrator in a police lineup. I gulped. "You went to Truman!" The man and Sabrina threw their arms up in celebration.
"Yeah, yeah! Who went to Truman?" I asked.
"We did!" they both responded. Joy surged through my every capillary.
"What year?"
"Two thousand one," the man replied. "It'd be right before you came, so I think Alan Altmansberger would be still around that you know."
"I totally know Alan! Do you know Randy Bame?" I exclaimed.
"Hell yeah I know Randy Bame!" he laughed.
"What's your name?" I asked him.
"Brian Waters," he said.
"Oh! I've heard of you!" It rang a heavenly choir of bells; this guy played a key role in many of Randy's tales of the olden days when he first started working in the auditorium.
Suddenly, I didn't feel quite so nervous anymore.
Monday, March 3, 2008
I say the darndest things
(after Seth revealed to me that his favorite pair of jeans had torn in frightening vicinity to the crotch)
"I think that's a Freudian rip."
"I think that's a Freudian rip."
Sunday, March 2, 2008
A Hermit Among Men
When I was younger, I read a story in which the main character's family got a new refrigerator, and she and her younger brother took the box it came in and made it into a playhouse. They cut out holes for windows, decorated the outside with marker, and would have had sleepovers in it had their parents not forbade it.
My family was not extravagant enough to purchase a new refrigerator, so most of my special places were behind the furniture or under tables. I decorated a few of those with markers, too. One time, though, my mom brought home a box that was large enough for me to fit in. I was a tall kid, so this was a big deal. I sat in this box (while also under my desk) to read, write, and color, before it split up the sides from oversittage. Not even Scotch tape could fix it. When I first heard the term "anti-claustrophobic," I was quick to identify.
Tonight I saw a man pulling a cart down the street which was tightly piled with crap mounting taller than himself. He reminded me of a sort of hermit crab, though instead of pulling along his house, it was his possessions. This was nothing new to me, only this time inspiration struck. Now, I don't ever, ever wish to become homeless, and I don't see it happening at all, but in the unfortunate, unlikely event that it does, I decided what I would do. I'd stake out Ikea or a department store and find their largest refrigerator box, or at least a decently-sized washer/dryer box. I'd get a dolly or two, or at least a few skateboards or something, and hook them up to the bottom. I'd fill it with my pillows and blankets, decorate the inside and outside with markers and collage trinkets, and pull it with me wherever I went. When it broke, I would make another, and though the lack of showers would be a deterrent, the absence of rent payments would balance out a thing or two.
My family was not extravagant enough to purchase a new refrigerator, so most of my special places were behind the furniture or under tables. I decorated a few of those with markers, too. One time, though, my mom brought home a box that was large enough for me to fit in. I was a tall kid, so this was a big deal. I sat in this box (while also under my desk) to read, write, and color, before it split up the sides from oversittage. Not even Scotch tape could fix it. When I first heard the term "anti-claustrophobic," I was quick to identify.
Tonight I saw a man pulling a cart down the street which was tightly piled with crap mounting taller than himself. He reminded me of a sort of hermit crab, though instead of pulling along his house, it was his possessions. This was nothing new to me, only this time inspiration struck. Now, I don't ever, ever wish to become homeless, and I don't see it happening at all, but in the unfortunate, unlikely event that it does, I decided what I would do. I'd stake out Ikea or a department store and find their largest refrigerator box, or at least a decently-sized washer/dryer box. I'd get a dolly or two, or at least a few skateboards or something, and hook them up to the bottom. I'd fill it with my pillows and blankets, decorate the inside and outside with markers and collage trinkets, and pull it with me wherever I went. When it broke, I would make another, and though the lack of showers would be a deterrent, the absence of rent payments would balance out a thing or two.
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