Just Call Me Fairfax, Gwendolen Fairfax.

That's right, folks. Mission #2 accomplished. As of tonight, I have added another role to my resume, that of Miss Gwendolen Fairfax, the would be fiancee of John 'Jack' 'Ernest' Worthing, in the Stone's Throw Dinner Theatre production of The Importance of Being Ernest.

^_______^

The main reason I auditioned for Othello was to get my stage legs back under me before auditioning for Ernest. I cannot thank Paxton enough for including me in his show, and the same goes for Becki and Bill for casting me in theirs. Thank you all from the cockles of my heart and other pieces of it too.

The fact that I landed a major role is the icing on the cake, but the diabetes-inducing flowers that stain your teeth blue are working with Bob and Tom again! Bob is playing a major role as the lovely Cecily Cardew. Tom will be wooing a lady of his own as Dr. Frederick Chasuble. Watch out world, Bob, Tom, and Pesh ride again! I wonder if Becki knows what she's in for.... She must. She even invited my most favorite chew toy, Geeb, to paint the set.

I love this troupe.

Everyone should start placing bets now on how many bald patches Bob and I will acquire in this production. We will only have three and a half weeks to rehearse, and I can't wait!

In other fantabulous news that warrants a complimentary ear-fuddling, the Geeb is celebrating the release of her first novel tomorrow!

Yea! And the crowd goes wild! Right before they run away to read their dirty novels in private! Woohoo!

That's right folks, pick up your e-copy of My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute at Samhain Publishing. I know I will. I'd better see you in line. Elbows will be nibbled should you fail in this mission. You won't like it when I nibble your elbows. I drool. And I nibble at an angle that will make said drool run into your armpit. Just buy the book and save us all some moisture.

On a final note of good news, tornadoes didn't eat the theatre tonight!

I'd say this was a good day.

Watch out, Ricky, I'm one toe closer to kicking down the doors of your casting calls.

In honor of Geeb's finest hour to date, I present a song.

And for the purists, a less silly version.

Cue the brainy stuff!

"Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally." ~David Frost

Edit: My cat just tried to eat my hair. Just thought you should know. There will be a test over the matter.

Howdy, Ma!

Might be on the telly in the morning. One of the local stations sent a man to film our rehearsal and interview our fearless Paxton. I don't know how much he filmed. I was so into character, I didn't realize he'd left until we hit a bump in the flow. If the station posts the piece on its website, I'll provide a link.

I read for the next play, The Importance of Being Ernest tonight. I'll elaborate more when I find out the results. Don't want to jinx it and all that. I will say that regardless of the outcome, I did well, and that's all that matters to me. If I don't get a part, it won't be for lacking skill.

Poor Geeb is probably painting as I type this. She's still slaving away at her fantastic set painting. Thank goodness for it too.

I'm slowly working on converting my mother to join Kult Pilkington. Hail the orange-headed one. His head is round like a fucking orange. It's not actually orange. I don't think Ricky has ever actually taken to painting Karl's noggin. Perhaps he should. I could practice on Geeb and post the pictures so he can get the right idea. Yes...I think that will do nicely.

Yeesh, I'm tired. Here's a lovely tune. Great little movie too, in case you've never watched Meet the Robinsons.

Don't forget your free quote!

"Some people dream of success...while others wake up and work hard at it." ~Author Unknown

Thank you. Come again!

Ah, Direction!

Paxton was unable to join us for rehearsal tonight, so he left us in Raven Micale's capable hands. Talk about a change. Paxton sees the production as a collaboration of artists. For the most part, he leaves us to our own interpretations of the script. He lets us ad lib and edit as we generally see fit. Raven is totally hands on. She seeks the motivations behind the characters and dunks the actors' heads in buckets of emotion. Paxton is fantastically relaxed in his approach, which makes working with him very easy. Raven has a vision and makes sure every actor's brush complements and flows with all the other strokes coming into play.

As an actress newly returned to the stage after a decade-long hiatus, I have to say I prefer Raven's approach. Her direction and insight have swept away a lot of the doubt and second-guessing I tend to do when left to my own devices. She made suggestions that I never would have thought of and they just feel right. The lines and emotions are more comfortable and it radiates through the production. I find myself clinging to such guidance as I find and strengthen my stage legs.

Raven reminds me a lot of one of my most influential mentors, a coworker named Patty. Patty was blunt, honest, and one of the most deeply caring women I've ever known. She could force feed you the most jagged nuggets of truth in a way that not only made them go down, but also grew sweeter after the bitter shells melted.

Raven also told me she thinks I have talent, which means so much coming from someone who has been in the biz for years. The frog that crept into my throat at those words also clung to the observation she made that has been told to me many times throughout my life, I need to trust myself. It's true. My confidence is crap. It's getting better. I can join a new group of people like I've always known them, but I still require constant validation of my own ideas. I hope joining this troupe has set me on the road to correcting that detrimental flaw.

This entry is sorely lacking my usual dosage of fruit.

Mangoes.

Meh, that's only marginally better.

Ooh! Bob's going to prom tomorrow night! Remember, Bob, keep your knees together! Wow, that sounded dirty. Really, I only meant that she should keep her knees together when she's dancing. Vertically. On the dance floor. With chaperones. Not with chaperones. Dancing vertically with chaperones watching. Wait. Crap. Bob is going to dance alone with her knees together while the chaperones watch.

Oi.

Bob, if you must go to prom, make sure the chaperones at least give you tips. I mean money! Not advice! If the chaperones are going to watch, they should at least pay, not tell you what to do. This is all going very badly.

Bob, just have fun, and dance with your legs crossed and your Everlast securely locked. (All joking aside, Bob's a dear and would never do anything to jeopardize her future for something so silly as a boy and hormones, or else Duh Pesh will pinch her ankles.)

Song!

Wisdom!

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." ~Attributed to Howard Thurman

Butt Crabs!

Crustaceous Assus, commonly known as butt crabs, will migrate south in the summer when the hair on the host's palms becomes so thick and warm that it becomes inhabitable.

Ah, the smell of fresh cut grass, sun tea on the porch, kids playing on the freeway, body crabs making their great migrations, it is definitely summer.

Rehearsal went well, per usual. I think I nailed the bit with my gloves. It's a waste, because it will never happen that way again. Such is the law of my luck. Maybe I'll get the timing down, but I'll probably slap one glove on the table and knock over everyone's drinks on opening night. Hey, a gal's got to have a goal, right?

...

...

I've run out of crap to prattle on about tonight, so let's get to a tune! Tonight's selection comes from one of Bob's song spasms. I thought the band was Squirrel Nut Zippers, but I stand corrected in learning that this song was actually performed by Cherry Poppin' Daddies. Their name pleases me too, but since I can't let the Squirrel Nut Zippers go by without a link, enjoy a bonus track!

Aw, look who decided to come home...quote!

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I hope he wasn't talking about gastropods.

Bloglet!

Rehearsal ran extra late tonight, so I will cover tonight's topics in the form of a list.

1. Geeb is making incredible progress on painting the set and Paxton has dubbed her a life saver. Not the candy, but I haven't seen any non-scripted brushes with death in this production, so maybe he did mean the candy.

2. Tom has perfected his smug victory face in the final scenes of scripted brushes with death. He's such a good villain. He has his turtle genes/jeans? to thank. I think the proper term is jeans. 'Levi' can be rearranged as 'evil,' and I don't think it's a coincidence.

3. Bob had on one of the cutest dresses I've seen in a long time. I miss my size two figure, though I suspect hers is closer to zero.

4. Bird-watching pumpkin cake. 'Twas yum.

5. Helicopters. Take some time to ponder this one.

6. Flanimals. I've converted at least three new fans. Joooinn uuuusss....

7. Ummm...Ricky Gervais. Duh.

Another song that doubles as a quote.

Good night!

Turtle! Turtle!

Did you know the Turtle is the most ebil of all reptiles? It's true. Just check out tomorrow's issue of The Joplin Globe or The Carthage Press. There may be a picture of Bob, Rowland, and me having an animated discussion at our "cafe" table. This conversation was an intense exchange speculating the rise and continuing dominance of the Turtle as the most ebil of all things reptilian. For your sake, and the safety of your great aunts, if you see a Turtle shout, "Go to shell!" Be sure to shout now. If the Turtle is not properly floored, you're done. Go on and practice.

...

Use your diaphragm.

Good.

After shouting at the Turtle, turn him into soup. It is the only form from which he can never return.

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle. G.I. Joooe!

Ahem.

So we got to try on our costumes again for the press shoots and I have to give another round of huge props to Theresa and her cohort, whose name, I'm ashamed to say, I've never caught. The outfits are incredible, beautiful. I and the rest of the cast cannot thank her enough. I hope the personal satisfaction from such work is at least half as tingly as the thrill of wearing the final products.

Bob, your mom is a keeper.

And on to more public humiliation for my darling Geeblet. Her fabulous work continues on painting our set. I showed up early to help. Guess how much I contributed! Not a damn stroke!

Anyhoo, several folks stopped to marvel at her hand-frickin'-painted stone wall. I'm tellin' ya, she's a machine. GEEB v3.3 specifically. Not sold in stores. Thank all that is good.

Tonight's selection is stolen from Geeb's mix CD. Scandals aside, Michael Jackson was a musical genius. I can't think of another artist that could write music that both lifts the heart and breaks it all in one beautiful stroke. I think I'll save my quote for another night and let this ample song stand for both staples of my blog. Now, I'm off to stare through Tom the Turtle's bedroom window until he wakes up screaming. G'night, all!

Molly Van Geeb

Tonight was our first night off book. What a night. We started off well, then someone missed a line and it all went to hell. Who kicked off the fuck-around, you ask? Why, who else? Duh Pesh Mode! Duh Pesh Mode strikes swift and deep. There are no survivors. If someone tells you about the destruction and carnage caused by Duh Pesh Mode, slap him. He's a damned liar. If he'd been there, he'd be dead. If he continues to insist his story is factual, kill him quickly. He's a zombie. Go ahead. Check. I'll wait.

...

...

He was reaching for your head when you looked, wasn't he? See why you should always keep blunt objects handy? You never know when you're going to have to smack the bitch out of a damned, lying zombie who only thinks he was cool enough to survive an encounter with Duh Pesh Mode.

Ew.

Make sure you leave a koala next to that mess.

Speaking of messes, Geeb finally got to work on the set tonight! Yea! Villagers rejoice!

I said rejoice, dammit!

That's better.

The backdrop is looking fantastic. It's all mountainy and hilly and bluey.... ^__^

She really is justified in calling herself a painter. I'll have to be sure to find a way to set it all on fire tomorrow.

I was going to be lazy and just post a link to this song because Ricky linked to a Simple Minds song that I'd never heard before on his blog tonight. I thought, hmm, they have a song I'm familiar with, what the hell was it? So, I found it, and what do you know? It's the main tune from The Breakfast Club, the only Molly Ringwald movie I've ever really seen. Poor Bob was near smacking me tonight for my lack of Molly Ringwald movie viewing. It's a wonder I can call myself a child of the eighties with such a gap in my pop culture experience. The sad thing is, Bob wasn't even thought of until the nineties. And lo, this entry has come full circle...jerk. ^__^

Quote!

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hand Crabs

Got to work with my gloves for the first time tonight. I'm typing with a spoon held between my thumb and first knuckle and enjoying how little it is hindering my typing. Geeb and I should switch to a constant diet of frosting. That way, we won't have to stop writing for something so trivial as eating. Asses be damned. It was nice finally getting to practice with my gloves, as I don't think I can sell my horrible OJ joke without them. Liked those transitions, didn't you? Don't lie. If you lie I'll nibble your elbows.

So Bob and Rowland joined me on stage, and the raunchy jokes ensued. I had a bottle of water on the table, so they started complaining about the rotten service in our little cafe. I explained that they had to know how to sweet talk the waiter and that they should always wear gloves when doing so or risk a nasty case of hand crabs.

You're probably wondering how I still have a role in this production. Me too. I figure it's just a matter of time. Just like death, taxes, and Bob ripping out her eyelashes. She's really going to hamper her criminal career with all that mascara on her fingers. Her fingerprints will be everywhere. Maybe she should start leaving koalas at every scene. The bit to which I'm referring starts at 0:30. Given the time, you should really watch the entire show. It's brilliant. Lookit. I've even pointed you to the first part. You should know, I love Ricky Gervais. That's important information. Important enough to have tattooed on your chin. Be sure to spell it right: Pesh loves Ricky Gervais. I hope you have a strong chin, or that's going to be really crammed on there. You should have it done twice. One normal and one in reverse, so not only can you inform others of this influential fact, but also so you can remind yourself of it every time you look in the mirror. Your days will be better for it. I hear reading it aloud while brushing your teeth will boost your metabolism too.

^___^

Song!

O
o
O

O

^ Bubbles. Lobsterese translation (because I'm kind to my readers who are ignorant of such a prevalent language, even if they do need to read a frickin' book):

"Hi, you've reached Jimmy, if you can dream it, you can do it!"
~Jimmy MacElroy, Blades of Glory

Weirdness...I know, right?

Rehearsal was fun tonight. Rowland and I ran our lines once through then proceeded to help with props, set stuff, and distracting the rest of the cast with conversations about phone etiquette. Sweet little Bob was kind enough to read with Tom, who has miles of monologues to tackle. I, of course, was no help.

My wall clock died at work, so I designed a Kult Pilkington clock in my CafePress shop. I originally had just numbers around the face, but Edy, the artist decided there should be other symbols included. I'm still not sold on it. I rather enjoyed having the numbers in completely random order with a '14' thrown in for good measure. It seems my husband and I don't meet in the middle when it comes to artistic endeavors.

New subject! Watch your step, these topic jumps can be more painful than getting hit by a train. Trust me.

Since my return to the theatre, something has shaken loose in my creative mind. I've started plotting a new novel. Perhaps this will be the story that satisfies Kiriannah (my stage-hog muse of many years), and she will finally leave me alone. I have pages of notes with detail plot outlines that actually form a cohesive storyline. All I have left to do now is tie up one loose end and flesh out the love story, which will probably introduce more loose ends, but I don't mind. The great thing about this project is that it's snapping together like a radioactive Lego monster blasting its way through my writer's constipation. Writer's constipation is much worse than writer's block. I'd rather have no idea at all than several that just won't congeal into something usable. No amount of laxatives helps either. You just spend your day on the seat straining, sweating, screaming for death. At last I have found a cure. Theatre! It goes down smooth and comes out the same way! Buy it now! Not sold in stores, but if you knock on the Geeb's door about eight in the morning, she may have something for you. It'll at least knock your shit loose.

Time to celebrate! My beloved Ricky Gervais is already slated to host next year's Golden Globes ceremony. The awards aren't until January, and they've already booked him. In-fucking-credible. It's achievements like this that have set him so high in my regard.

Time for tuneage! This is one of my favorites. ^_^

I found tonight's quote in an old file tucked away on my flash drive.

"To succeed you have to believe in something with such a passion that it becomes a reality." ~Anita Roddick

Edit: Kick ass! I've never seen more than a clip or two of the video for tonight's song, so I'm greatly pleased to find that it's frickin' weird. I love it when a non-existent plan comes together.

Love Letters For Bob

Tonight's blog goes out to Bob and her woes. She's sixteen and wading through all the dire muck that comes with that age. Her heart is in bloom and venturing into the grand world where all the other hearts frolic, fuse, collide, and brutally stab each other. She'll make it through though. She's super smart, and as soon as her heart catches up with what her brain is already figuring out, she'll be invincible until she consciously chooses to be otherwise. Until then, she'll have to endure the crap that young hearts like to drag themselves through on the quest for that happily ever after that is seldom found and more often fleeting.

Rehearsal was interesting tonight. Our Desdemona had another obligation, so a fellow theatre goofball named JJ, Jayjay, Jay-J, ummm, whatever. So, a fellow theatre goofball filled the fair lady's shoes with disturbing effect. I never thought I'd see a Desdemona scratch her nards and pantomime eating something from her nose, but I'm getting used to such oddities in my corner of the universe. I'll just blame the Geeb.

Anyhoo, to further warp our evening, Paxton got pulled aside to work out some lighting details, so Bob threw herself into the role. Can't say I'd follow her into battle, but she certainly put Iago in his place.

There's nothing like a night of gender-swapping to keep everyone in good humor.

We'll definitely have to get Iago to show off some moobies on Wednesday to keep things awkward. I'll send him some cupcakes tomorrow to help him pack a few more pounds into them. He's really not properly overweight to display a worthy set of moobies. It would be an embarrassment.

Well, now that this blog has achieved sufficient weirdness for one evening, I'll move on to the song that began playing just as Bob and I left the theatre tonight. I'd say it's appropriate.

Bonus track! This one played immediately after the song above. I'm placing a wager that the Geeb will not leave this song playing long enough for it to load. Hell, she may not even open it. Maybe she will. Maybe she'll think the Pesh is jacking with her and will post the link to something truly bad ass. Or maybe she won't. Dost thou dare to click?

Wisdom! (The Pesh does not guarantee that the following wisdom comes from saner minds than hers. Apply with caution. Do not get in eyes. If eyes do come in contact with wisdom, remove them with a spoon. It will hurt less.)

"There'll be two dates on your tombstone,
And all your friends will read 'em,
But all that's gonna matter is that little dash between 'em...."
~Kevin Welch

Morbid, yes? ^_^

Jooiiin Uuuusss...

Rehearsal ran late tonight, but as the show seems to be really coming together, it was worth it. Bob's mom must be killing herself for our costumes. She already had the first round of alterations done on my dress, and with the exception of one section being too tight, they were spot on. Keep in mind that I first tried on the dress at our last rehearsal, Bob was the only one to see me in it, and no measurements were taken. Theresa is an incredible seamstress. Period.

I saw what I think will be the final version of our program. The Geeb is going to smack me. I'm looking forward to it.

If you're wondering what the title of tonight's post has to do with anything I've just written, it doesn't. In an effort to assist Ricky in his quest to bring Karl Pilkington worldwide harassment, I am unveiling a line of Kult Pilkington products to help saturate the world with knowledge of the man with a head like a fucking orange. Wear your t-shirts and thongs proudly, and whenever someone looks at you as if you just evolved from a mermaid, gently sit them down and spread the Word of Karl.

Since I'm in a silly mood tonight--shut up, I do so have other moods--let's hit the Free Love Freeway.

And now for some wisdom:
"Things may come to those who wait, but only things left by those who hustle." ~Abraham Lincoln

Super-Rehearsal-Awesome! Yeah!

EGO ALERT!

You have been warned.

Had a great night at rehearsal. Karen, AKA Desdemona, wasn't feeling well, so it fell upon me to read in her stead. I missed damned near every mark, and poor Paxton seemed to forget once in awhile that I didn't really need to learn the marks, as he started to explain them to me once or twice. I always have a lot of fun at rehearsals, but being able to move around and stretch my stage legs a bit felt great. It was also fun jumping from one platform to run across the stage and leap onto another throughout the night. Roland was even kind enough to tell me I was reading the part very well.

I'm a happy little Pesh this evening.

Despite my glee in reading her part, I hope Karen finds herself completely recovered soon, especially since I'm bound to break my neck sooner rather than later if I keep platform hopping.

I also bought shoes to go with my dress. This too pleases me.

As for tonight's song, let's crank up some eighties gold.

And since I can't have my reader...s wandering aimlessly through life tomorrow, a quote:

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." ~Thomas Edison

EDIT: Just finished actually watching tonight's music video, and I have to ask, "What the hell?" Clearly, the eighties had a huge influence on the stability of my mind, but the gas pump dance is still lost on me. Despite the video, I doubt I will never tire of this song, especially knowing how much the Geeb will love the pink polo. The pink polo haunts her dreams. It's true. Ask her, or better yet, buy her a pink polo to call her own. She'll love you to death for it.

Speedy Blog!

It's already late, so I'm going to ramble quickly. Not that it matters to you. You won't be reading this entry any faster than the others. Oh dear. I seem to have undermined my efforts already. Fuck it then.

I got my dress tonight! When I arrived, the lovely Bob dragged me away to the dressing room to try on a gold and black number her mother found in the loft. It was a little tight in the petticoat and a little loose in the dress, but I'm very pleased with it. I get to buy some shoes now.

On an even more exciting note, the Geeb has her official cover art and page posted on the Samhain Publishing website! E-world, prepare yourself for the greatest novel you have ever read, My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute. That's right. Come June, your mind, and maybe other things, will be blown--or at least tingly with some good laughs. Careful with the laughs though, you don't want to go past tingly and accidentally pee your brain. Not a hazard I recommend risking. Trust me. Once will be enough to learn your lesson for good.

In honor of the Geeb's upcoming romantic comedy, here's a lovely little love song, of which I am quite fond.

And your thought for the day is:

"Even if you are on the right track, you will get run over if you just sit there." ~Will Rogers

New Lines!

Paxton added more lines for some of the cast. I got three and, like a smug little Pesh, I had two memorized in time to hit my cues.

Other than that, I don't have much to report. I'm tired again and snagged a catnap after work, but that's just boring. I suppose all the things I didn't do are much more entertaining than what I did do. For one thing, I didn't hit Geeb in the ear with a shuttlecock. That certainly would have been amusing, had it happened. I'll have to try that sometime.

I found out that Ke$ha has the hots for my dear Ricky Gervais. I'm grossed out. Aside from the fact that Ricky is twenty-six years her senior, she just looks...sticky. The thought of her looking at him makes me want to give him a bath. I'm sure his lifelong girlfriend Jane wouldn't approve if I tried. Heck, I'm sure he wouldn't approve either, but if the opportunity ever presented itself, I certainly would try. What kind of obsessed fangirl would I be if I didn't? A disgraced, obsessed fan girl is what I'd be, and I cannot let my reputation be damaged so easily. What's a night in the pen for an attempted forced bathing charge in comparison to a sullied name? Not much...not much.

Egad, I should delete this entire entry. I'm far too tired to be publishing this. Which will make it all the more fun in the sobering light of a few hours' sleep.

Okay, so let's get down to business. Tonight's song is appropriately nuts. Oooh! Chimpanzee that! (Just ignore the Monkey News reference and enjoy the tune.)

Don't forget the quote! You won't know what to ponder tomorrow if you don't read the quote! You know it's true. You have GOT to quit lying to yourself like this.

"Wherever you go, go with all your heart." ~Confucius

Blocking!

We did our first read through with our basic blocking this evening. I hope I don't miss my mark. I am seated at a cafe before the curtains ever open, and I stay there until the curtains close. I've screwed up simpler things. Just ask the Geeb.

We had a good time tonight. Bob and I continue to freak out over how much we have in common interests. The cast is laughing even more freely at each other's jokes--even mine, no matter how demented they are. I talked about sticking a duck in a microwave this evening. Don't worry, that only came from talking about sticking a duck in the oven and how much the feathers would stink. See? It was a perfectly normal progression of conversation.

...Perfectly. Normal.

You get two songs tonight. One is for Bob, who has never heard of Dave Matthews Band. It's a tragedy that must be corrected. The other is for Geeb, who has never heard "Peaches". For crying out loud, there are ninjas in that video! What is wrong with these women?

EDIT! I had a mental malfunction and mixed up Geeb with Jes. Jes, is the heathen that claims to like rock, yet has not heard "Peaches". Geeb, you're off the hook, for now.

Quote!

"If you have time to whine and complain about something then you have time to do something about it." ~Anthony J D'Angelo

Ah, Rested.

I missed blogging after Thursday's rehearsal due to a lengthy theological debate with my husband. He's Catholic-ish, and I'm a devout atheist. I wasn't in bed until after midnight and had to be at work for a 7:00 a.m. meeting. Thus, I was in bed at 6:00 p.m. on Friday. I stayed there until after 8:30 then headed off for a pile of congealed grease a local fast food chain likes to call "breakfast" with my beloved. It was delicious.

Finally, I am rested.

As for rehearsal, Rowland had other obligations that night, so Bill sat in with Bob and me. We did a read through, but much of the evening was spent listening to some of Bill's fascinating stories. That man has lived. He's seen the world, rubbed shoulders with the likes of Laurence Olivier, and I'm sure something of everything else in between.

After regaling us with a few of his tales, Bill asked me why I had returned to the stage after being away for more than ten years. I told him of my experiences in high school, when I fell in love with the art, the horrors of my college experience, and the puddle of slow death I've been sitting in since. I felt my face burning as I told him, my throat tightening. For me, it's act or die. Even if I never go beyond community theatre, I have to act. So what did Bill do? He paid me one of the greatest compliments I have ever received as an actress. (The letter of recommendation from my high school drama teacher for my college scholarship audition is still right at the top.) Bill said he is directing Same Time, Next Year later in the season, and he said I should audition. Now, this is by no means a promise of a role, far from it. What it does mean, is that Bill sees me as a candidate to be considered, and that is an incredible compliment to me.

As our conversation continued, Bill and I started ranting about some of our pet peeves, his being lack of communication, mine being a lack of punctuality. Bill then stated that his top three priorities are God, family, and work. I smiled and nodded, but he caught the look on my face before I could pull it back. I explained to him that while I agree with family and work being top priorities, I did not belong in The Bible Belt. He looked shocked, and then Bob chimed in.

Did I mention I adore Bob? Because I do. She's like a mini-me with melanin.

So, Bob chimed in with a story about the time she acted in Godspell. She said that during the course of that production, the entire cast came to realize that the only actor who was a Christian, was the one playing Judas. Every other person on that stage was either agnostic or atheist. Ironic much?

So dear little Bob is a non-theist too. Agnostic or atheist, I'm not sure, but I'm almost convinced we were separated at birth, and she was shoved back in to incubate for another thirteen years. She's also a big fan of Sting. This pleases me.

Detour! (I promise, I never write while drunk. That's reserved for reading.) After enjoying our coronary cuisine, Edy and I returned home to watch Gran Torino. Excellent story. Some of the dialogue put me off (not for being offensive by any stretch, just some of it didn't feel natural), but the story was wonderful. At the end of the movie, something caught my eye. I noticed that the actress playing Walt's granddaughter, Ashley, had really wide set eyes....

Could she be?

IMDB to the rescue!

Yes!

Ashley Kowalski was played by Dreama Walker, who played the receptionist in The Invention of Lying starring--you guessed it--Ricky Gervais! Speaking of The Invention of Lying, Jennifer Garner, who also starred in the film, is celebrating her birthday today according to IMDB. You needed to know that. Stop lying to yourself and be thankful for the information.

Now for a song!

Don't forget the quote of the day!

"Vision is not enough; it must be combined with venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps; we must step up the stairs." ~Vaclav Havel

Progress!

I realized this afternoon that as of last night, I have made more blog entries since my return to Theatre than I did in the years spanning 2005-2009. I think this means I'm on the right track. I'm interested in my own existence again. I enjoy writing, I really do, but it's not my passion. It excites me, but it doesn't make my heart sing, more like a jaunty hum. Incidentally, since I've returned to acting, I've had more ideas churning in my head than I've had in a long time. Geeb and I are finding a collaborative dynamic that is going to take us to exciting places creatively, maybe even physically. (If our script gets rejected on the local circuit, I say we film a bit and hop a plane to London. ^_~)

Anyhoo, back to the real topic of tonight's post. Leave it to me to start with a tangent. Okay, back on track! Roland, another narrator for the play, expressed his discomfort with Bob and me wearing knickers if we were to be women. He took it up with Paxton, and together, we convinced him that Bob and I should be presented as men or wear dresses. Thankfully, Roland has been issued a mission to check with the troupe in Lamar for possible dresses, or we may approach the Joplin troupe for some loaners. This pleases me. I don't mind playing a male, but I am a woman, and it would be nice to feel pretty for my comeback show.

Now for your regularly scheduled glimpse into my psyche with a song. Don't stare directly into the psyche, you'll be sorry. And you'll have those green blobs blurring your vision for a few minutes. If you must stare into the psyche, please avoid doing so while driving.

And a closing thought for the day: "If the light in your life has changed to yellow, I recommend you floor it. It's safer than the alternative." ~Will Rogers

(I didn't pick the driving-related quote because of my psyche-related rambling. It was just a happy accident that I noticed when I was half-way through typing the quote. See? I told you I'm on the right track.)

So Tired....

I'm tired, but in a good way. I'm pouring all my reserves, and most of my evening hours into something that I love. I would rather die on stage than rot in living flesh at my desk. Poor Geeb is feeling the hours burn away too. Between working nights and juggling life during the day and heaping in a dose of chronic insomnia, it's a wonder she's not rocking herself in the corner of a padded room. Though, I'm not entirely sure what she does with her off hours....

Both of us are riding waves of creativity. We're working on a collaborative project with the determination to start reaching for something better, perhaps even bigger than sane folks should dare to dream. Sanity has always been a forgone conclusion for us, so why not take the bet? We, like so many living in our town, or any small town for that matter, have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Once again, I am listening to this beautiful piece, but I like to keep things changing, so try this track on for size. (Thanks, Bob, for inspiring tonight's choice with your Cheap Trick t-shirt.)

Tonight's quote comes from The Office, and it is the other half of my top two mantras. I like to spout this one when I'm trying to get my loved ones off their asses. Dawn said, "Tim's advice is that it is better to be at the bottom of a ladder you want to climb than half way up one you don't." Too true.

And since I'm not a properly obsessed fangirl if I don't mention him at least once every couple entries: RICKY GERVAIS!

That is all.

Costumes!

Tonight we listened to some excerpts of various performances of Othello throughout history. One in particular gave everyone goose bumps, which is why I'm convinced that Iago belongs in the top three of everyone's 'Best Villain Ever' list. You know you have such a list. Don't lie. You'll never be as good at it as the characters on the list that you know you have because you're a nerd.

We also spent the majority of the evening trying on costumes from the theatre's stock. I pushed for Bob and me to wear dresses. Bob's a girl. A biological girl, not a post-op girl. She'd be very at home in a dress. Without practice.

Anyhoo, I pushed for us to wear dresses as I'm fairly certain women did not wear pants of any variety in the sixteenth century. Unfortunately, due to a lack of resources, and the strain it would place on our brave seamstress--Bob's mom, and no, she didn't pick the name--we settled for tunics and either knickers or hose. I got a good puffy shirt, and I like my tunic, especially since it seems to have belonged to a bad stripper in its past life.

What? Lewd things make me smile.

This tunic was strange in that it had a pleated skirt attached at the waist, with Velcro. It would be easy enough to remove, but the Velcro runs the circumference of the tunic, and you have to step out of the skirt after all that detaching. It could be done in a lewd manner, but I doubt the tips would be worth the effort. It's a costume that would belong to the stripper waiting in the parking lot to clean your windshield as you try to leave.

How was that for a tangent?

How is this for a song? Yes, it's a song from a video game, but it's both beautiful, strange, and fun for inspiring action scenes. I figure I have strange covered tonight, so let's keep the theme going, shall we?

On a final tangent, I've been putting a lot into my self-motivation lately as I've come to realize how little was handed to me in the formative years of my confidence, quite the opposite actually. I've started collecting quotes that make me want to get off my ass, no matter what the outcome. I've decided that even if I fall down the stairs of my dreams and rip off my face, rupture my tongue, skin my knees, and twist my toenails, it will all be worth it just knowing I tried. I will NOT wake up on my sixtieth birthday and take a double-barrel dose of iron when I realize that the only person who let my dream die was me. Though, if I twist my toenails, I might consider getting comfy with that explosive antidote. Side effects be damned.

Ahem, the quote (this one has become my mantra):
"Chase down your passion like it's the last bus of the night."
~ Terri Guillemets

We Have A Director!

Our director, Paxton Williams, has returned from Illinois to reclaim the helm of our little production. I'm still getting to know him, but he is genuinely committed to the wellbeing of the show, and is totally open to input from the cast. He accepted all my suggested changes to the script, after careful consideration of course; he is after all, in charge.

As a cast, we are continuing to bond, and we are bonding very well. Paxton also shared some news with us tonight. A Shakespeare appreciation group will be attending our show (probably opening night), and has invited the cast to a fete after the show. I'll gloat more as I get more details.

Until then, enjoy a lovely piece. The subject of my current obsession, and my thespian hero, Ricky Gervais used this music in his latest work, Cemetery Junction. It is one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever heard.

Oooh! Bonus track! I had to sing along to this one with the windows down on my way to rehearsal. I think it's written in physics. You cannot remain silent during this track. It is physically impossible. You will rupture a testicle if you try to resist. If you don't personally own a set of testicles, someone else's will rupture. Why would you do that to someone? Sing, dammit! Louder! And don't miss the high note. ^_^

Whew! Plugs galore! No leaks in this entry!

Another Read Through

The cast is really starting to mesh. We spent this evening doing another read through mixed with cutting up and easy laughter. We even started keeping a half-assed tally of missed cues, strictly for harassment purposes of course. Geeb's suggestion to change my character's name from Christobel to MacBeth purely for the sake of me spilling my dessert and shouting, "Out damn spot!" was a hit, but I'm not so sure the director will go for it. I suppose we'll find out Sunday.

And because I heard this on the radio to the joy of one DJ and the dismay of his partner, a song!

Revised Script

We got our newly revised, beefier scripts tonight. No, they were not smeared with hamburger grease. It was turkey broth. The facts are important here if nowhere else, as my idol, Mr. Gervais, is finding in the April 2010 "Week one hundred and thirteen" entry on his blog. You'll find he is quite eloquent in his take on the subject. No one can cuss like the English. Well, I suppose you can, but without the accent, it sounds so...uncouth. Keep fighting the good fight, Ricky.

Wow, that was a tangent. Anyhoo, back on topic. With this rewrite, I now have one of the best lines in the entire play: We only know what we think we know, and we don't know what we don't know. And we may not really know what we think we know.

The line speaks to me on an intimate level of nuts. I love it.

Speaking of nuts...Song!

(What? One might say my taste in music is eclectic. I think eccentric may be more accurate, but overall, I prefer schizophrenic. Or else.)

First Read Through

Not a lot to report. We had our first read through tonight. The cast already seems to be meshing really well. We discussed some possible changes to the script, and the director gave us an idea of how the stage will look. Basic stuff, but it's exciting.

For tonight's musical selection, a number I performed to in Mr. Eden's Theatre high school Theatre class. Each of us had to act out a song of our choosing, but not by acting out what the lyrics said. Make sense? Good.

Role 1

Well, I got the call today. I'm both relieved and a smidge disappointed. I didn't get the female lead, Desdemona, and I'm totally fine with that. As I said, the audition went incredibly well for my first go in over a decade, so I had my hopes and trepidations up. I will be playing Chris, a narrator in this vision of Othello. It is set up like a frame story with me and two others relating the tale to each other while the rest of the cast performs the actual scenes.

It's a great part. I'll probably be on stage for the entire show. My only twinge about it is how it will read on my resume.

"Oh, you were in Othello?"
"Yes."
"Which role?"
"Chris."
"Uh, who?"
"Chris."
"There's no Chris in Othello."
"There was in this version."
"Um, was it a, um, a pornographic version?"
Sigh.

All career paranoia aside, I cannot wait to hit the stage again. Tomorrow is our first read through. The show starts in six weeks, so I expect to lose some ass fat that has become far too familiar with my backside. Yea for insane schedules!

On a final obsessive/stalkerish note, you may have noticed that this is being posted just after midnight. Well, I just watched my hero, Ricky Gervais, sit in for an interview with David Letterman. Nothing like a good laugh before bed. Okay, there are other things, but laughing doesn't make it hard to walk in the morning.

In honor of Shakespeare, here is a beautiful song from Romeo+Juliet. Enjoy!

Well, that year was...interesting.

Thank goodness for friends. If it weren't for them, I'd be committed by now. The highlight of last year: my family threw me under a bus with snow chains for the sake of the catastrophe that was my sister. She's still alive, but I say was because I disowned her. Okay, she disowned me first, but I've since shown her how it's done. But I digress.

I loved performing in high school. The auditorium was my home. Whether I was in a play or trying not to trip during a show choir performance, I only wanted to entertain.

Then came college.

I auditioned for a theatre scholarship at the local college along with three of my classmates. The three of them came away with tech scholarships. Mine was for acting. The very head of the department was assigned as my advisor, and that's when it all went south.

That troll of a man sucked every last ray of joy from the stage for me. He made performing a source of stress and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy in an already self-doubting teenager. He enrolled me in senior level courses then critiqued me as if I were a senior. I ran screaming from the campus after only one semester.

Then, I went to work. I did retail. I did sales. I worked at a utility. More retail. Collections. And finally, I landed a secretarial job in a hospital's maintenance department. I love this job. The people are fantastic, and I happily wallow in my work.

But something was missing. Oh yeah. My dream.

My poor husband has coaxed me out of bouts of depression brought on by watching DVD special features on more than one occasion. He gets nervous when I watch a behind-the-scenes anything. As practical as I try to be, my heart remains stubborn.

Then I became an atheist, and being practical lost some of its value. In realizing that this life is my only chance for happiness, and that that happiness is entirely my responsibility, I have returned to the theatre.

And finally, I'm to the point of these ramblings.

With Geeb in tow for immoral support (and because she wanted to giggle while I publicly searched for my long lost stage legs), I attend my first audition in over ten years. A local community dinner theatre is doing a production of Othello in six weeks. There is one more night of auditions before the casting calls go out, but I'm feeling optimistic. The audition went very well, and I think I may have a chance at a major role. Of course, after ten years, I'll be perfectly content to push a cart across the stage calling, "Bring out yer dead!"

Cross your fingers and break my legs. If this goes well, I'll be one minute step closer to my loftiest goal: an attempt at avoiding laughing while taking direction from Ricky Gervais.

In honor of Mr. Gervais, here's a song.

Fresh Year, Fresh Start

Last year, I spent most of my time concentrating on my health. It's not that I'm even remotely unhealthy; I've just been very conscious of my BMI and elevated triglycerides. I started 2008 with Tony Horton's Power 90 with fantastic results in the blood work department, but my already healthy frame didn't show any dramatic changes, which was fine. After Power 90, I moved on to P90X. Great workout, but I had a hard time forcing myself to carve out at least an hour everyday, and don't get me started on the hateful beast that is yoga.

Unfortunately, through all of my exercise and obsessing over nutrition labels, my writing fell by the wayside. I barely opened a Word file. I wrote perhaps thirty pages last year.

This year, will be my year of balance. I'm going back to school this month. I'm a general studies student now, but at this rate, I think I'll wind up as an English teacher in about ten years.

On January 1, I cracked open Tony Horton's 10-Minute Trainer. I'm sore as we speak, but it's a good pain. One that means my body is recovering from all the duff-sitting I've done for the last few months. I kid you not, I've gained ten pounds since I quit P90X. I think 10-Minute Trainer will be the right balance of Tony ass-kickery versus work and school scheduling. Now, if only I could figure out a way to make vegetables taste like brownies.

Yesterday, I curled up with my new HP Mini (the new love of my life, sorry hubby). I worked for a few hours in the morning, took a mid-afternoon nap, then hopped back on the keyboard until 12:30 last night. I managed to crank out 3,658 words. I just pray I won't turn around and declare them crap next week.

We shall see.

So, here's to the new year. May its fruits be as plentiful as its potential.

Balding

I'm pulling my hair out over this book. It's such a mess; I can barely bring myself to look at it. The more time I spend away from the limping, drooling, lobotomized, and beaten ugly-fest I call my book, the more I want to change it: adding in a trip to Earth, making bigger villains out of the gods the current deities banished, making grayer villains out of the mortals calling for the heroine's blood, and making grayer friends out of those she and I thought we could trust.

I've known that the blurring of lines between good and evil is a much needed necessity since I wrote 'The End' all the way back in November. The thought about a visit to Earth came about recently. It would add a transition between dimensions that opens up opportunities for ick to hit the fan. Unfortunately, I feel that it may add a major element of sci-fi where this is a fantasy story at heart.

I think I'm just going to have to start from scratch. AGAIN. But that's okay, each time through brings me closer to fully understanding my characters and lets me breathe more life into them. I just hope I have some hair left by the time we all come to an agreement.

NaNoWriMo

Well, since my blog has been revived. . . for now. I guess I should announce the completion of my first full draft of Blood & Crystals. I've been working on this story for about five years now, always getting just so far before scrapping my progress and starting over. Thanks to NaNoWriMo, I can finally settle into editing land. Okay, so it will be more like the abyss of editing hell, but at least it's editing.

I finished the draft at 9:07 AM on November 24th (Thanksgiving morning) with 63,403 words, and it is an unbelievable mess. I have loose ends flying around like an open barrel of monkeys in a clothes dryer. I need to sit down with some character sheets and further define my cast. I need to decide whether I'll leave the world as it is or alter it into the idea that has been tooling around my brain for the last week or so. Decisions, decisions. At least the story is on paper.

*does the gelatinous happy jig*

Tagged!

*blows dust off blog*

*nearly asphyxiates in the moldy cloud*

And this is why I almost never started a blog in the first place. I've never been much of a journal keeper. Whenever journals were assigned in school, I wouldn't touch them until the nights -- or classes -- before their due dates.

Anyhoo, Joely has taken the defibrillator to this site and tagged me.

1.) List five of your weirdest habits.

Hmm. . . Geeb, stop your snickering. I mean it. *evil monkey glare*

*First off, I don't eat processed meat. I don't care how lean it is, if flesh has been run through a grinder, it will not pass my lips. I attribute this to always being the only one at the table to find the hard thing in my hamburger. Talk about hitting the gag reflex. I also blame McDonald's chicken nuggets for the same reason. Now, if an animal has been tossed into a blender then handed to a kindergarten class with the instructions to mold it back into its original shape, I'm not eating it.

*This one may make some of you scream, "Too much information!" Hehehe. Anytime I go to the bathroom, I have to take off my wedding ring and sit it on the sink or bathtub edge. I just have this horrible feeling that if one of the prongs holding my sapphire in place is going to break, it will be my luck for it to happen over the toilet. That is the last place I want to go fishing for my rock.

*I can't read a book more than once. I can watch some movies time and time again, but when it comes to books, I guess I'm just not patient enough to sit through them twice. I don't care how much I love the story.

*If I spill salt, I can't resist throwing some of it over my shoulder. I feel like I have a demon crawling up my neck if I don't.

*I love listening to Ace of Base, that Swedish band that had two or three hits when I was in junior high. Some of the lyrics may be stupid or make no sense, but they're so much fun to belt in the shower.

*And as a bonus habit, the weirdest of them all: I hang out with Geeb. I know. I can't believe it either. *fruity giggle*

2.) Tag five.

O_o I don't know five bloggers that haven't been listed. Let's see what I can pull out of the air.

Prongs Rini
Becca Stareyes
dxgirly
Sisi
Koujis Wolf

Okay, so they're all livejournal folks. They probably don't even know I have this blog, but I do consider them friends, so the list is here for them to stumble across.

3.) Copy the list (and its links) below and post it with the TOP name/link removed and your blog/link added to the BOTTOM.

4.) Track back here to let me know you've done the dirty deed.

5.) Pass the whole schmeer on, including these lil guidelines.

I'm Just a Girl
third world county
Soliloquy -- Nancy Bond
Joely Sue Burkhart
Pesh's Nikra Wood

Mmm...fooood...

Ever since I became a housewife, sorry, domestic engineer (who comes up with this stuff?), I've felt like Donna Reed. I actually get off my butt a few times a week and run the vacuum, fold laundry, and find homes for our piles o' clutter-- I've even started doing dishes like an obsessed maniac. (Shut it, Geeb.) Heheh.

Yesterday, I found out just how bad I have the 50's housewife syndrome. I went to bed early on a Saturday night so I could get up at 7:00 AM to peel potatoes and carrots for a roast for five people. I also baked two dozen Texas-style rolls--frozen, but I brushed them with butter--and yes, that's fancy for me. I even baked cookies. Thank goodness, Geeb/Molly was there to help me fight the humidity that kept caramelizing the dough.

So now I'm sitting here, my muscles still burning from my morning Pilate's, eating chocolate chip cookies and milk, and wishing Grandma still made dinner once a week like she used to.

That woman puts Betty Crocker to shame. Her chicken and noodles could start a duel to the death for the last bowl. Her bran muffins are exquisite fresh from the oven with butter and jelly or honey, and they're excellent after a stop in the microwave and devoured without toppings. Her scrambled eggs are always fluffy, and practically vanish from the table. Her fried chicken makes any heart-blockage well worth it, and the mashed potatoes and gravy she makes to go with it...I can't even begin to describe.

I miss the 50's housewife--the woman who broke her back everyday with a smile to make home a place to be longed for after it is gone. Childhood antics and those precious few memories that are never forgotten are wondrous things, but women like my grandmother created a backdrop for those memories that warms the soul like none other.

I need another cookie.