Out of the Blue

Worked on my first film where I had a speaking role this weekend.  It was for a local film festival; a friend I had reconnected with last fall contacted me last week to ask if I wanted to do it.  I had hesitated, first because I didn't feel ready, and then second, because she told me who the other actor was and I was worried because I think he's really good.  This was a horrible weekend to shoot outside, which the entire film was, the weather was awful.  A big windstorm blew through most of today with intermittent rain, and it was cold.  And since we shot out of sequence yesterday, and it all takes place the same day, could only wear what I wore yesterday, which wasn't nearly enough (though someone brought me a blanket for between takes.)  Both days I came home and stood under the running hot water of the shower until I stopped shivering (about 20 minutes.) There were things like gear dropping in dog shit, and then moments of synchronicity (someone being in the right place at the right time; running a line while walking a trail where the term "bigfoot" is used only to look up and see a sign for bigfoot - I don't know why.)  Managing to get the shots in just before it started to pour (we got lucky, a lot.)  And having a neighbor of a location who probably came out to check on what we were doing, but instead ended up telling the other actor and myself the history of the location we were in, and also of Vashon Island after the war (WWII.)  Things I probably would never have known, and that were interesting.  And we were able to connect rather than have a confrontation.  And then just hanging out at one of the locations, a relative of the filmmaker's house, and feeling like it was a place where we were absolutely welcomed, not tolerated, but embraced (as strangers), and a parade of neighbors popping in with fresh coffee cake (as we were finishing a lunch break), and a loaf of bread, and then lots of people willing to help out.  This openness, something I remember from growing up, but is something that has been lacking in my life as an adult as of late.  And I miss it.

It was a fantastic experience.  I hope the acting was okay.  I'm humbled and grateful that she asked me to be a part of it.

Friday

Days should sometimes have "re-start."  Again, it's a long series of piddly things, but a never-ending series of piddly things that are taking so much longer to correct that would be warranted.  And you can be as clear as possible, and still somehow the words are misconstrued, and so something relatively simple, drags on and on.  And there has been a lot going on this week.

And also, I just hurt (physically.)  Not sure if it was something I ate earlier in the week... both hands hurt, back is getting worse, added a second spot (yay!)  Went to a chiropractor, followed by a masseuse, who really dug into all the sore places (and told me to ice, which I did), including the deep hip muscles, psoas, (which helped, I think.)  Then acupuncture this morning, and she hit a lung point in my arm, causing me to kick up my opposite leg, and slam my foot back down on the table, and then sob for 10 minutes (when I was fine the moment before.)  I suppose it released something (lung points are related to grief), but I don't know what, no thoughts or memories surfaced connected to it.  Maybe I don't need to know.

And it's tough.  In many ways this week has been fantastic, I suppose it's all the extremes, and not a lot of neutral.  We saw our edits of "Hedda" which in some ways were painful, but also good to see how we looked on film, and to get feedback on what we need to change (our group didn't get the "acting Ibsen" comment, I don't think the first group did either, but neither group opted for time period, we didn't because neither of the women had the right clothes), but most of us got "show less", which might be different from stage simply because the camera isn't right in your face, and I got the "pushing" comment again (to be forcing a reaction), which was funny, as I actually felt in the moment, that I was honestly reacting to my scene partners; I felt authentic...oh, well, something to continue to work on.  And then something about our blocking (at times) being predictable...so, yeah, cringe-worthy at times, but fun.  All the feedback is useful, if there is nothing said, there's nothing to learn, and you'll never improve.  And at all stages, you can always improve.  And now working on two other projects, have the script for one (and need to memorize it tonight), and will have the other Monday or Tuesday.  And Shakespeare is going good, though I have more reading to do for that, as well.  (And as an aside, I was reading the Arden for "Macbeth," and there was a period of performance where it had basically become a musical, with songs and dances involving the witches, and the witches kept multiplying, and the play got too long, so dialogue was cut elsewhere.  And then directors kept promising to get back to the original text, but inevitably, the witches, and the music numbers kept encroaching...I'm very amused by this, I was cracking up while reading it, mostly because the description was in the middle of, otherwise, dry text.

It was beautifully sunny, and warm, this morning, but now the rains have returned.  Fifteen inches above normal for the rainy season.  Bricks are shifting, and the cement tiles near the freeway entrance that my bus took this morning is cordoned off with flagging tape marked "Danger!"  The cement blocks buckling and sliding down in the mud.  They've been there for years.

The cherry trees are almost in full bloom at the University; the crowds have arrived.  The rain is not much deterrence.  I think they are earlier than last year, perhaps by a week?

Cherry Blossom, March 7/L Herlevi 2016

And someone left a plate of cheese out on the counter: cheese is my weakness.

Oh, and somehow did not make it through the day without falling into snark, a parting shot (and completely inappropriate)...lord.

Sunday

Just finished our Kalevala Day event (a week late.)  Sang "Oma Maa" by Sibelius; I actually made it to a few rehearsals, and so sang.  I'm glad: I love this piece of music (one of my favorite things I've ever sung.)  We had instrumentalists today, so really the first time we were all together was this morning.  I hear it went well, the balance was good, won't get to sing it again for a while.  Anyway, now we have a month off (and I'm still in Shakespeare for the rest of March.)

We filmed the "Hedda" scenes on Wednesday, and didn't do any make up, so that's done, too.  It'll be edited, and everyone will see them on Wednesday.  I'd been having a rough day prior to the filming, and by the time we shot I was punchy, saying off-hand remarks to people and having fits of laughing.  Also, because of theatre/clown/travel, I've taken to changing my clothes publically...I just don't care anymore.  (I was like that in my early 20's as well.)  I mention this because I did it earlier today, and realized maybe I shouldn't; but it's hard to put these dresses on in a tiny toilet stall.

I finally started to go through the boxes again, found a bunch of old cassette tapes, many of them mixed tapes, and not in the right cases.  I used to give them to people all the time, and borrow music, apparently, not sure where I got half these songs.  They are from late 80's to mid 90's.  Everything is in disarray, but I did get rid of one of the musty smelling boxes, at least.

We're in between rain storms, nature is breaking out in flower.  It was well into the 60's yesterday.

I need to write, write.  Saw two films last weekend, "The Serpent's Embrace," and "Only Yesterday," both of which left me with a lot to think about: how the smallest of actions have repercussions, what happens when the stories die?, the idea of feral vs wild (and how once you lose wild, you can not gain back what was lost; the stories contained are gone, what is left, what can be resown, is at best an approximation, the context and history slowly lost with each passing sowing, with each generation), how our lives are shaped by seemingly small encounters, how we can misinterpret things and how that will color how we react and how we view ourselves (without ever having a sounding board to tell us otherwise), among others.  "Only Yesterday," (Studio Ghibli), while animated, is definitely not a children's film, it's like a mid-life crisis (though the character is 27, I believe, so perhaps a Saturn return).  There's really no plot, and no happy ending, though it's realistic, and brutally honest.  It was sad and refreshing at the same time.  We are who we are, and maybe we can figure out why.  Perhaps what we say we want isn't really what we want afterall, and how do we face up to that?

I don't know why I put off writing so much.  Why I put off the things I say I want, want to do...what would be so hard in starting?  And yet I don't, not much, not lately.  The effort feels more than I can muster.

Oh!  Sudden lightening and thunder, out of nowhere, almost right above the house.

Stuff

The rescheduled Ibsen rehearsal left me with more time to go over the whole scene, and for cooking.  I had been planning on going straight there, but a sudden rain storm, and then a break in the weather, helped to change my mind, and I went home first (after drinking coffee and going over my class/script notes.)  I had nothing waterproof, and I didn't want my script/notes to get soaked.  Checked email to verify the time only to find the rehearsal had been cancelled, otherwise, I would have just shown up.  Trying to work with everyone's schedule is like herding cats.  Now we will try for Wednesday, before class, and I'll be late, which is lame on my part, but there's a volunteer party for the exhibit I've been working at, and I'm broke, and we'll get fed.

There's a script description of Thea as being kinda' weak and timid ("quietly" "desperately"), but then there is subtext in what she says, and what she's done, and the idea that she's the character that represents "courage"...she embodies what Hedda might do (choose what she wants, i.e., Eilert, who has reformed himself, through Thea, and come back to town), but lacks the "courage" or will, to do.  She (Hedda) lacks the will to choose her own happiness, and chose safety, in marrying Tessman, instead.  Anyway, the script notes make Thea sound mousy and clueless, and yet she throws the first volley after entering the room by suggesting she go speak to Mr. Tessman, and it just keeps escalating.  And her acts of courage go against the idea of weak, she chose her own happiness, regardless of any scandal that will bring; she's the strongest character in the play, she's willing to lose everything.  Anyway...all this is to say, I still need to decide if I'm addressing my words to Eilert, as encouragement, or to Hedda, as a challenge.  Could go either way.  Just have to decide what I want.

Shakespeare seems like some far-off memory, we'll have had three weeks off by the time we're back together.   At least I know my lines.

Sibelius is in less than two weeks, and I was just reminded that I'm working a fundraiser this weekend, so I guess snowshoeing is out for now.  (Random, I know.  Got invited to go up to the mountains on Saturday.)

I was excitedly pointing out to everyone I had contact with last night, the full moon and Jupiter.  Will be even closer tonight, if it's clear.  After 9 pm, I believe.

Thursday

We ran through Ibsen last night, without a break.  Discussing subtext, and breaking the scenes down (only covered about 5-6 pages of text.)  It was great.  Before that, we'd talked about knowing the text backward and forward, and knowing your character and having made strong choices about them before walking into the room.  Being willing to defend your point-of-view (with text).  How good writing has no filler in it, every word is there for a reason.  How the "events" that happen in scene change the course of what happens next; about reversals, and gaps (where a character walks into the scene expecting one thing, and finds something else.)  The things that keep us all engaged (audience included), the specificity of choices, and why, because if you don't know why, neither will anyone else watching the performance.  Good stuff.  Love this class.  (And will get critiqued for acting next week, so scared about that, but it will make me better, so I just have to deal with it.)  Found myself getting jealous for Thea when I was watching Eilert and Hedda speak in code around her.

My back is killing me, and because it's heart awareness month or something, I keep worrying that I'm having a heart attack...probably a good thing I didn't go to med school, so easily influenced by stories.

Not really a day off

Acupuncture, then four hours of working on Ibsen, then running home to pick up music, and running back to Macbeth rehearsal, which ended early because apparently a sandwich at 11 am was no longer working for energy at 5:30 pm, and my scene partner was basically having to read my lines for me, since I could no longer remember them.  I memorized it a couple of weeks ago, but kinda' just blanking out by the end of rehearsal tonight.  Can't work well when you're hungry.  Can't even think straight when you are hungry.  Then a choir rehearsal I was talked into going to.  I haven't gone all winter because it conflicts with Shakespeare class, but didn't have class tonight.  We sang this piece five years ago, I only remember the last section.  It's twelve minutes, I think.  I'll have to look it up, they are performing it in less than three weeks.  Man, it's high.  (Sibelius, Oma Maa.)  I'm wiped out.

Sunday

Was gifted with a haircut yesterday, which I needed.  She cut a good foot of hair off, maybe more.  This is the shortest it's been since I cut out a really bad perm when I was in college.  (And for the record, I was ever hopeful I would suddenly be beautiful, but processing and my hair don't mix.  Thankfully, I finally learned my lesson at that point and stopped.)  It looks good, but I don't feel feminine, I identify that with long hair on me (and only on me, not judging anyone else on those standards.)  How do I redefine it, then, when I can no longer hide behind appearances?  And on another level, it's also liberating, to be seen for whatever I am, beyond that.

Walking in the grocery store this morning, to pick up some bread, I made the briefest of eye contact with a man.  Someone I used to know.  A long time ago.  You walking out, me walking in.  Took a moment to register.  Time wears us, changes us.  If there ever was a nemesis in my life, that'd be you; not a lover, not even a friend, just two people thrown together by fate, with extreme clashing of personalities.  Cruelty and insanity.  I would've been happy to never cross paths again.  You looked good.  So did I.  The best one could hope for.  For a while there, at the time, I was treading in the "bat shit crazy" territory, and you were cruel.  I don't blame you, I coulda' walked away.  By the time circumstances caused us to part, I had regained my mind.  Why you today?  "Happy Valentine's Day!" says the Universe, laughing.

A yellow light warmed the air just before nightfall, an otherwise dark and gloomy day.  Stopped by the garden on the way home from an urban hike.  Artichoke has happily recovered, and the collards are healthy looking.  Basically, trees at this point, about 3-4 years old, have not been able to remove them, the stems have become so thick and woody, the pruners wouldn't cut through them last year, and I didn't have an axe.  Have a patch of cilantro (that seems to have "girded it's loins"...something sorta' sturdy about it, against what weather, I'm not sure.  Been a mild winter, so much so, that nature seems to have decided that spring is here and has set out in blooms.)  And some beets are lingering, but most of the seeds I planted at the end of the growing season have failed to germinate.  Lots of bare soil.

And I don't hate Valentine's Day, but I still have a playlist of anti-love songs playing through my head. (The main one being "Valentine's Day is Over," by Billy Bragg.)

Happy Valentine's Day!

Wednesday

Ash Wednesday.  Got off at a later stop to look for a priest.  After joining in a circle for a reading and a prayer, two lines formed: one for the priest, and a second for a lay person, a woman.  In the end I stood in line for the woman, someone like me.  Walking to work after, I was reminded of volunteering to give communion, which I often do, but not usually the bread portion.  A young man stood in front of me and asked me to bless him.  I remember thinking, "Who am I to give anyone a blessing?"  But I did it.  Powerful and  humbling, like washing someone's feet.

And this act, a blessing of ashes, to mark the time, set it aside: for contemplation, for reevaluation, for thoughtfulness for what I have done how I have lived and what I might choose differently.  Every day an act of defiance to the things that stood in my way.  Things I put there, or things I passively let box up my life.  Every day an act of bravery.  To not procrastinate, to reach out, to forgive, to ask for forgiveness, to appreciate, to say it, to lift someone up, to be a fool.  To offer and to receive.

The predicted "late" rain, came early and washed everything clean again.

The film class also began today: exciting, and scary, and fun.  Very intense for the actors.  Have to be prepared.

And it's interesting that the majority of the actors are over 30; curious if that will affect the casting decisions and/or story decisions for final directing projects.

Sky and words

Got up to go look at the planetary alignment this morning, the lightening of the eastern sky already dimming the stars by a little after 6 am.  Saw maybe four (one was very dim) of the planets; the sky clear, and air warm enough to walk out in my pajamas with only a sweater thrown over. Told my housemate about it, and walked back out to show it to her; only a few minutes later, but most of the stars had faded.

The daylight grows each day in minutes, and in the course of the past month, it seems we've gained an hour on either end, each day's twilight lingering just a little bit longer as we head toward the equinox.  Last night the sky finally cloudless (and moonless) enough to see the stars.  Just before heading out the door this morning, I look out the window and a fog has settled in, filling in the empty spaces with bright clouds instead of the sun.  When did that happen?  Where did that come from?

We worked with accents last night; just picking an accent and running the monologues in it.  Really opened everyone up, even the way we moved, and how we phrased things.  And I realized it's not enough (for me, anyway) to speak it out loud, I need other humans in front of me, to focus, to give the words to someone.  We've been working with "antithesis" (a thought or word set against another for contrast), and I realize that mine are spread out across the piece, which is why I didn't think I had any.  Also, I rephrase similar ideas over again, but I think the meaning is slightly different...paraphrasing has helped in distinguishing those.  There are no throw-away words in dialogue/monologues, so why are you saying each one now?  You actually have to know the answer to that or it won't connect.

Working on the script analysis for three plays.  Guess once you slog through the first one and figure out what the questions mean, might as well do the others.  And I've started reading the Scottish play again...actually, it's pretty short.

It's like building a road map to get you through the scene.  You work through the script with the questions, and then realize, "oh, this is where we are going ('what do you want?'), and these are the steps (the action, 'what are you doing?') we take to get there."  Oh.  Talking about it with my scene partner helped as well.  Saying it out loud clarified it.  (And helped me get past that "perfectionist" tendency where I have to have the "right" answer before I can respond.  No, I have to have an answer, then try it, and if it doesn't work, try another one.  The world ain't gonna end if I make a mistake.)

(And I think if the performers have clarity of where they are going (the point of it all) and the steps between A and Z, the audience will more easily stay with you.)  (I say that from having seen a lot of shows and thinking about what kept me engaged, and what made me zone out...and understand, I go to the shows wanting to follow the performance, and be invested in what happens next.)

Tired

I have found, lately, that writing takes more energy than I have.  Saw two shows last week linking (in my mind, anyway) ideas of memory and identity, both on an individual level, and on a cultural level.  Currently lacking the energy to write coherently on this, but there is a spark there, so I will try.

I'm exhausted.  Find I can barely stay awake for the last 1/2 hour of class, though perhaps that's in part because we spend a lot of time sitting.  Film class starts in a week, meeting with my first group before then: we've been assigned scenes/roles already, so need to do work on that.  Dreamt about auditioning, woman in dream laughed at me and said I was not "getting a call back."  The best one can do is to do all the prep work and be ready to go.  We were shaping monologues last night (though, I didn't get to mine, so I'm a little behind now...I'm gonna have to have my roommate watch/listen, she did offer, between now and Monday) and talking about being specific vs. general, and that was one of the things the casting director said to me (and when you do something, do it!) when I worked up the nerve to ask her how I could improve as opposed to walking out with my tail between my legs and giving up (in the dream.)  You know everything you need to say, and then you say and experience it as if for the first time (every time.)  Discovery in the moment.  Anyway, reading Macbeth, and need to read Hedda Gabler again (read over the weekend, plus Twelfth Night) with script analysis, before I meet with my group.  I am excited to start that.  Meeting with my scene partner tonight.  (And we got to go over it in front of the class last night, so at least that one is a little further along.)

And I should list stuff to give away, go through the boxes again...I don't want to move them again.