My parent's arrived yesterday, after two delayed flights and their luggage lost. The good news is they're here. And Laguardia located their luggage. Laguardia over the holidays is never fun.
My parents are staying at our friends' apartment. Our friends, along with their toddler, left this week to see family, and they offered their home to my parents. Our friends live just a block away from us. It's perfect.
We'll be shlepping around the city like crazy tourists. Macy's and Saks today. The Mac store. (Yessss.) And the musical, White Christmas, tonight. My brother and his wife get here the day after Christmas, and my entire family will come see my show on Sunday.
It finally feels like Christmas.
Merry Christmas, folks!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Umbrella Walking
It snowed yesterday. Quite a bit. All day long. I don't know how many inches, but it was a lot. This is me out in the snow.
Note two things in the picture above. 1) The UGGS. 2) The Umbrella. The UGGS turned up useless by the end of the day because surprisingly and unfortunately, UGGS are not waterproof. My socks spent the latter half of the day drying over the heater in our living room. The Umbrella however (yes, with a capital "U,") was my hero.
Umbrella walking in New York City is not an easy task. It is not a task like crossing the street, which becomes more instinctual with time. Umbrella walking simply sucks. Each time. Every time. It is not fun. It is painful. And it is unfair. All this because people don't give a rat's boohiney about how their umbrellas invade your space, or poke your eye out, or scrape your head, or catch and pull your hair. It's each man for himself. Stay dry no matter the cost.
I have often wondered, why am I the one who always moves my umbrella out of the way for YOU. Why am I always the one who sees the man or woman about to pass me and lifts my umbrella higher than the oncoming traveler's so that the two umbrellas do not interlock and mangle themselves to pieces. Why do I have to get extra wet because I'm avoiding a gazillion little pokey things that could have a detrimental effect on my face.
And fancied friends, I have come up with a solution to my quandary, and the answer lies in that picture you see at the beginning of this post.
See how that Umbrella is very LARGE?
Hmmmm? See it?
That's the solution! That's the answer! You see, before yesterday I was walking around with a rinky dink umbrella that flipped inside out with every gust of wind. It was a mere child's thing! Useless. Weak. UNmenacing. Shrinking back from every bully umbrella that came its way. A disgrace to the umbrella race it was. A disgrace to the umbrella race.
But NOW. I've upgraded. Yesterday I was walking along and all of the sudden a man next to me said, "Woah!" and had to do a Neo (you know, like one of those slow motioned back bends) to avoid my Umbrella. As I walked the block I noticed those around me swerve and duck and dive and maneuver, while I peacefully walked along on the ever so beautiful white winter day.
I returned home with wet feet and both eyes.
My Umbrella. My hero.
Note two things in the picture above. 1) The UGGS. 2) The Umbrella. The UGGS turned up useless by the end of the day because surprisingly and unfortunately, UGGS are not waterproof. My socks spent the latter half of the day drying over the heater in our living room. The Umbrella however (yes, with a capital "U,") was my hero.
Umbrella walking in New York City is not an easy task. It is not a task like crossing the street, which becomes more instinctual with time. Umbrella walking simply sucks. Each time. Every time. It is not fun. It is painful. And it is unfair. All this because people don't give a rat's boohiney about how their umbrellas invade your space, or poke your eye out, or scrape your head, or catch and pull your hair. It's each man for himself. Stay dry no matter the cost.
I have often wondered, why am I the one who always moves my umbrella out of the way for YOU. Why am I always the one who sees the man or woman about to pass me and lifts my umbrella higher than the oncoming traveler's so that the two umbrellas do not interlock and mangle themselves to pieces. Why do I have to get extra wet because I'm avoiding a gazillion little pokey things that could have a detrimental effect on my face.
And fancied friends, I have come up with a solution to my quandary, and the answer lies in that picture you see at the beginning of this post.
See how that Umbrella is very LARGE?
Hmmmm? See it?
That's the solution! That's the answer! You see, before yesterday I was walking around with a rinky dink umbrella that flipped inside out with every gust of wind. It was a mere child's thing! Useless. Weak. UNmenacing. Shrinking back from every bully umbrella that came its way. A disgrace to the umbrella race it was. A disgrace to the umbrella race.
But NOW. I've upgraded. Yesterday I was walking along and all of the sudden a man next to me said, "Woah!" and had to do a Neo (you know, like one of those slow motioned back bends) to avoid my Umbrella. As I walked the block I noticed those around me swerve and duck and dive and maneuver, while I peacefully walked along on the ever so beautiful white winter day.
I returned home with wet feet and both eyes.
My Umbrella. My hero.
Monday, December 15, 2008
That's Entertainment
Warm day today. Like, 64...66 degrees. Very odd for this time of year. But, you don't really care about the weather in New York City. Do you?
Mayor Bloomberg is making budget cuts for all New York City agencies, which includes the Sanitation, Police, and Fire Departments.
A slew of Broadway shows will be closing early 2009, Gypsy being the latest to release its news. Grease, Hairspray, Spamalot, Spring Awakening, 13, Boeing-Boeing, and Young Frankenstein are some of the others joining it in its farewell.
But you don't really want to hear about how the hard economic times are affecting New York City. Do you?
Wouldn't you rather hear about which movies I've watched recently?
Here they are, all fantastic:
Moonstruck
Sleepless in Seattle
Fargo (Oh geez, Margie)
27 Dresses (not AS fantastic, but still pretty good)
The Prestige
Sullivan's Travels
Rear Window
Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf
A Streetcar Named Desire
Here's a list of the ones on my Netflix queue, coming up!:
Strangers on a Train
The Birds
Psycho
Notes on a Scandal
Billy Elliot
A Cry in the Dark
All About Eve
Gigi
The Philadelphia Story
Anyone got any great movie ideas, old classics or not-so-old classics that I should add to my queue? Or just ones you love?
Mayor Bloomberg is making budget cuts for all New York City agencies, which includes the Sanitation, Police, and Fire Departments.
A slew of Broadway shows will be closing early 2009, Gypsy being the latest to release its news. Grease, Hairspray, Spamalot, Spring Awakening, 13, Boeing-Boeing, and Young Frankenstein are some of the others joining it in its farewell.
But you don't really want to hear about how the hard economic times are affecting New York City. Do you?
Wouldn't you rather hear about which movies I've watched recently?
Here they are, all fantastic:
Moonstruck
Sleepless in Seattle
Fargo (Oh geez, Margie)
27 Dresses (not AS fantastic, but still pretty good)
The Prestige
Sullivan's Travels
Rear Window
Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf
A Streetcar Named Desire
Here's a list of the ones on my Netflix queue, coming up!:
Strangers on a Train
The Birds
Psycho
Notes on a Scandal
Billy Elliot
A Cry in the Dark
All About Eve
Gigi
The Philadelphia Story
Anyone got any great movie ideas, old classics or not-so-old classics that I should add to my queue? Or just ones you love?
Those Were the Days
Those were the days when
the china was out
and the rug was new
and the bed in our room
was always a bed.
And suitors came knocking
And buyers came gawking
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Yes, the dish ran away with the spoon.
the china was out
and the rug was new
and the bed in our room
was always a bed.
And suitors came knocking
And buyers came gawking
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Yes, the dish ran away with the spoon.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Not tired.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
I'm telling you, this works better than counting sheep.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
A couple days ago, I picked up a guitar for the first time in ages. To play something OTHER than Coal Miner's Daughter and Delta Dawn, which I played one too many times this summer, and sang with a fake Southern accent while dressed in pigtails.
I'm starting to crave the recording studio again, and singing as myself instead of whoever.
But I DO love being imaginary people. The only thing with being an imaginary person is that it takes me a LONG time to wind down after returning to my real self, and now I can't sleep.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
It's working.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
I also tried eating graham crackers (they're actually graham cracker sticks) dipped in peanut butter. That may be helping. I hope we don't find out one day that crackers lead to some kind of incurable disease, because I'd be doomed. DOOMED. It used to be Wheat Thins and Triscuits. But after, oh maybe 8 years of those two kinds of crackers being staples in my diet, I've moved on to Kashi 7-grain. They're delicious! And now I'm into these Back to Nature Cinnamon Graham Sticks. Back to Nature also makes a very good cheese cracker. Much like the Cheese Nips or Cheezits or whatever except they're less fat. And all natural. This is just out of control, this cracker business.
Ya know what I think it is? I used to be a cereal connoisseur. Cereal was my go-to snack. But nowadays, cereal is ridiculously expensive, and if I snacked on cereal, I'd eat myself into financial instability. That must be what started this whole economic downfall in the United States. It's the cereal! Nobody could afford their mortgage payments because they ate too much cereal! Well, I am way too responsible for that nonsense and have cut my snacking expenses in half by substituting crackers for cereal. I should write a book on solving the financial crisis. It would be titled: Eat Less Cereal!
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
I've got double shows tomorrow. Matinee and Evening. It's 5:04 AM. This is not good.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
But getting sleepy....
I'm telling you, this works better than counting sheep.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
A couple days ago, I picked up a guitar for the first time in ages. To play something OTHER than Coal Miner's Daughter and Delta Dawn, which I played one too many times this summer, and sang with a fake Southern accent while dressed in pigtails.
I'm starting to crave the recording studio again, and singing as myself instead of whoever.
But I DO love being imaginary people. The only thing with being an imaginary person is that it takes me a LONG time to wind down after returning to my real self, and now I can't sleep.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
It's working.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
I also tried eating graham crackers (they're actually graham cracker sticks) dipped in peanut butter. That may be helping. I hope we don't find out one day that crackers lead to some kind of incurable disease, because I'd be doomed. DOOMED. It used to be Wheat Thins and Triscuits. But after, oh maybe 8 years of those two kinds of crackers being staples in my diet, I've moved on to Kashi 7-grain. They're delicious! And now I'm into these Back to Nature Cinnamon Graham Sticks. Back to Nature also makes a very good cheese cracker. Much like the Cheese Nips or Cheezits or whatever except they're less fat. And all natural. This is just out of control, this cracker business.
Ya know what I think it is? I used to be a cereal connoisseur. Cereal was my go-to snack. But nowadays, cereal is ridiculously expensive, and if I snacked on cereal, I'd eat myself into financial instability. That must be what started this whole economic downfall in the United States. It's the cereal! Nobody could afford their mortgage payments because they ate too much cereal! Well, I am way too responsible for that nonsense and have cut my snacking expenses in half by substituting crackers for cereal. I should write a book on solving the financial crisis. It would be titled: Eat Less Cereal!
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
I've got double shows tomorrow. Matinee and Evening. It's 5:04 AM. This is not good.
Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired. Not tired.
But getting sleepy....
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Nanny Diaries
The 7-year-old and I have just finished two games of War (the card game.) The 7-year-old lies back, very still, and stares at the ceiling.ME: Whatcha thinkin' Lincoln?...Huh?
7-YEAR-OLD: (Sigh)...I'm in love with someone!
ME: (laughing, can't help it) You ARE?!?! Who?!?!
7-YEAR-OLD: I'm in love with Eleanor! She kissed me on the LIPS!! I'm going to marry her.
ME: When did she kiss you on the lips?
7-YEAR-OLD: And we even went to dinner and there was a two-seater and we sat at the table by ourselves and it was like we were dating!
ME: Woah!
7-YEAR-OLD: Yes! And we even shared our drink and our food!!!
ME: Wow, that really is like a date!
7-YEAR-OLD: Well, just our food. We had our own drinks. And I got down on my knees and begged and begged her to marry me. I said, (he gets on his knees and puts his hands together in prayer fashion) "Please! Please! Please! MAAAAARRY MEEEEE!"
ME: Did she say yes?
7-YEAR-OLD: Uh-huh!
ME: Did Eleanor kiss you on the lips BEFORE or AFTER you asked her to marry you?
7-YEAR-OLD: (thinking) .....Before. But I think I'll have to kiss her again at the wedding. Won't I?
ME: Yes, you will.
7-YEAR-OLD: Will I HAVE to?
ME: Yes, you have to kiss her at the wedding.
7-YEAR-OLD: Why? Because that's what makes us married, right?
ME: Well...no. Because it's tradition. Yes you will have to kiss Eleanor at your wedding.
7-YEAR-OLD: (He smiles and flops on the floor and buries his face into the rug.) Oh just thinking about it makes me sweat!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Riddle Me This
A few weeks ago at rehearsal during dinner break, discussing the wonderful-ness of dessert:
ME: My friend owns her own cookie company. She's a baker. And she makes the most AMAZING cookies. I'm serious. Her cookies are the Tom and Jerry's of cookies. Mmmmmm. (I continue eating my dinner, happily remembering my friend's cookies. My actor friends are silent.)
Finally...
ACTOR FRIEND 1: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's. What's Tom and Jerry's?
ACTOR FRIEND 2: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's is that cartoon with the cat and the mouse.
ACTOR FRIEND 1: Did you mean BEN and Jerry's?
Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.
ME: Yeah. Ben and Jerry's.
Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.
ME: Story of my life.
***********************************
Between shows this weekend, discussing sausage. (Have no idea how and why we were discussing sausage.)
ACTOR FRIEND: I'm not really a sausage link person. I'm more of a patty person.
ME: Yeah. Just give me the James Dean. That's all I want.
ACTOR FRIEND: ......
ME: .....
ME: Jimmy Dean. Jimmy Dean. Dangit!
ME: My friend owns her own cookie company. She's a baker. And she makes the most AMAZING cookies. I'm serious. Her cookies are the Tom and Jerry's of cookies. Mmmmmm. (I continue eating my dinner, happily remembering my friend's cookies. My actor friends are silent.)
Finally...
ACTOR FRIEND 1: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's. What's Tom and Jerry's?
ACTOR FRIEND 2: (Confused) Tom and Jerry's is that cartoon with the cat and the mouse.
ACTOR FRIEND 1: Did you mean BEN and Jerry's?
Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.
ME: Yeah. Ben and Jerry's.
Laugh laugh laugh. Ha ha ha.
ME: Story of my life.
***********************************
Between shows this weekend, discussing sausage. (Have no idea how and why we were discussing sausage.)
ACTOR FRIEND: I'm not really a sausage link person. I'm more of a patty person.
ME: Yeah. Just give me the James Dean. That's all I want.
ACTOR FRIEND: ......
ME: .....
ME: Jimmy Dean. Jimmy Dean. Dangit!
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Nanny Diaries
Ring! Ring!7-YEAR-OLD: I'LL GET IT!!! I'll GET IT!!!!!
ME: Say B----- residence.
7-YEAR-OLD: (Picks up phone) B---- residence speaking.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Up and Running!
Oliver officially opened this past Saturday at the Engeman Theater in Northport, NY.
If you're around and would like to see the show, just click on the Engeman link above for tickets.
All is well! The show's going great. Here's a few pics. Hopefully more to come.
Our set.
The boys.
"I'd Do Anything" That's me back there standing with Oliver and Fagin
Me as Bet
Me as a "Buyer"
Opening Night Extravaganza:
Me and Michelle DeJean (Nancy)
Me and the boys, Troy (Dodger), Larry (Charlie), and Jake.
Me and Neal Benari (Fagin)
Me and Steph (Charlotte) and Rob Gallagher (Bill Sykes)
Me and Oliver!
If you're around and would like to see the show, just click on the Engeman link above for tickets.
All is well! The show's going great. Here's a few pics. Hopefully more to come.
Opening Night Extravaganza:
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I Shall Scream
I learned today in rehearsal that I can scream. I'm a pretty good screamer. I've never had to scream, and I don't recall ever just screaming in real life. I watched a behind the scenes on one of the Indiana Jones movies, where the actress COULDN'T scream, but Stephen Spielberg didn't know that until AFTER he hired her and found out she was an AWFUL screamer. Couldn't scream worth a hoot. And it just so happened that this Indiana Jones movie required her to scream alot. So they had to have her mouth the screams, and then go in and dub over someone else's prerecorded scream into every screaming scene.
And ever since I saw that behind the scenes, I've wondered if I'd be any good at screaming. But I never considered any moment of my life appropriate to just try out a scream.
Well, that moment came today.
My character, Bet, finds Nancy dead at the end of the musical. (Sorry if I ruined it for any of you.) And the director and choreographer had this "brilliant" idea that I should scream when I see Nancy dead.
I got a little nervous about it. Went up to the choreographer while the director worked with the other actors and said, I have NO idea if I can scream. I've never really done it before. And he told me to just go ahead. Try it out. Right then and there.
So I mustered up the courage, opened my mouth, drew in a deep breath, and let it RIP.
Everyone in the whole room jumped or gasped and looked over at me, frozen in fear. It was dead quiet. The choreographer just nodded and said, yeah, you can scream.
I said, sure I can, but I don't think my character would do that.
So he said OK, and I don't have to scream.
I feel better now that I know I can scream. Not that there's anything wrong with NOT being able to scream. I mean, Stephen Spielberg ended up marrying the actress that couldn't scream, so he musta liked her anyways. Not that I want my director to marry me...Oh you know what I mean.
Number of times I wrote the word "scream" in this post: anyone?
And ever since I saw that behind the scenes, I've wondered if I'd be any good at screaming. But I never considered any moment of my life appropriate to just try out a scream.
Well, that moment came today.
My character, Bet, finds Nancy dead at the end of the musical. (Sorry if I ruined it for any of you.) And the director and choreographer had this "brilliant" idea that I should scream when I see Nancy dead.
I got a little nervous about it. Went up to the choreographer while the director worked with the other actors and said, I have NO idea if I can scream. I've never really done it before. And he told me to just go ahead. Try it out. Right then and there.
So I mustered up the courage, opened my mouth, drew in a deep breath, and let it RIP.
Everyone in the whole room jumped or gasped and looked over at me, frozen in fear. It was dead quiet. The choreographer just nodded and said, yeah, you can scream.
I said, sure I can, but I don't think my character would do that.
So he said OK, and I don't have to scream.
I feel better now that I know I can scream. Not that there's anything wrong with NOT being able to scream. I mean, Stephen Spielberg ended up marrying the actress that couldn't scream, so he musta liked her anyways. Not that I want my director to marry me...Oh you know what I mean.
Number of times I wrote the word "scream" in this post: anyone?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Wow. I am TIRED tonight. Rehearsals are getting longer and more intense. We've been rehearsing from 10 - 6 here in the city every day, but it goes to 12 hours out in Northport starting Friday. We open the day after Thanksgiving.
My head may even hit the pillow before midnight tonight. Gasp.
I have a hard time blogging during a show because my life becomes so...routine. I'm literally doing the same thing every single day. Same songs, same dance, same lines, same actions. I think actors crave the extreme repetition of a show, because usually, so much else in an actor's life is so inconsistent. Clarity in an imaginary life is consoling. I think that's also why there's an element of sadness when a show closes. That consoling sameness and the community that comes with it is yanked out from underneath you.
So if I'm boring you'll have to forgive me. I'll do my best to find something worth telling.
See I've even stopped titling my blogs. They just don't seem worthy of titles.
Ahhhh well. I'm off to bed.
My head may even hit the pillow before midnight tonight. Gasp.
I have a hard time blogging during a show because my life becomes so...routine. I'm literally doing the same thing every single day. Same songs, same dance, same lines, same actions. I think actors crave the extreme repetition of a show, because usually, so much else in an actor's life is so inconsistent. Clarity in an imaginary life is consoling. I think that's also why there's an element of sadness when a show closes. That consoling sameness and the community that comes with it is yanked out from underneath you.
So if I'm boring you'll have to forgive me. I'll do my best to find something worth telling.
See I've even stopped titling my blogs. They just don't seem worthy of titles.
Ahhhh well. I'm off to bed.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Did I tell you guys that I saw Julianne Moore at Starbucks the other day? She's real pretty.
I don't have much to talk about. I'm about to go to another voice lesson, but I don't really want to talk about that.
Rehearsals are great, but I don't really want to talk about that either.
I had a matzah ball soup that I liked today! There's something to talk about. It was at a real Jewish deli owned by real Jewish people instead of a silly Manhattan deli owned by silly non-Jewish people. Matzah ball soup tastes just like chicken noodle soup! Except for those two big mushy dumpling like things in the center that don't taste like much of anything. It was good. Not sure why people get crazy about it, but it was good. And cheap. Maybe that's why people love it so much.
I don't have much to talk about. I'm about to go to another voice lesson, but I don't really want to talk about that.
Rehearsals are great, but I don't really want to talk about that either.
I had a matzah ball soup that I liked today! There's something to talk about. It was at a real Jewish deli owned by real Jewish people instead of a silly Manhattan deli owned by silly non-Jewish people. Matzah ball soup tastes just like chicken noodle soup! Except for those two big mushy dumpling like things in the center that don't taste like much of anything. It was good. Not sure why people get crazy about it, but it was good. And cheap. Maybe that's why people love it so much.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Nanny Diaries
A conversation with the 7-yr-old boy I babysit as we're watching the end of a New York Rangers hockey game on T.V:
7 YR OLD: I'm actually kind of glad Obama won.
ME: You are?
7 YR OLD: I mean, I'm SAD that McCain lost because I was for him. But I'm actually kind of glad Obama won.
ME: Really. Why's that?
7 YR OLD: Because he's our PRESIDENT!
ME: Well...not yet if you want to be precise.
7 YR OLD: People should really be glad for their president.
ME: Well that's true. Did you guys have a mock election in your class at school or something?
7 YR OLD: (confused) mock?
ME: Oh. I mean a pretend election at school?
7 YR OLD: No.
ME: Oh.
7 YR OLD: Anyways, it's not like the president can tell us what to do or anything. He can't force us to do things.
ME: Hmmm, it's true that we're a free society, and we make our own choices.
7 YR OLD: Right! We make our own choices!
ME: The president can tell our military what to do, though.
7 YR OLD: We're not at war right now.
ME: We are actually. In Iraq.
7 YR OLD: Oh. But not anywhere around here, right?
ME: Right.
7 YR OLD: I hate wars! Wars are stupid. Fighting each other with knives and stuff.
ME: Well, the United States only goes to war if it's to fight for what's good...to help people. (???) it's always better to try to work it out, though. You're right.
7 YR OLD: Yeah! Work it out! Work it out with YOUR WORDS! Geesh.
ME: That's right. Work it out with your words...... Sometimes countries have a harder time working it out with words.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
How Not To Think
After a grueling lesson with my voice teacher yesterday, and after a 24 hour period of THINKING how NOT to think, I THINK I've got what he means.
In my lessons, during a vocal exercise, he wants me to simply DO what he says, not process what he says and how it corresponds to my own preconceived understanding of the voice. When he asks me "how does that FEEL", he wants to hear a self-aware answer of how that FELT, not a processed THINKING answer about what I THINK my teacher wants to hear.
Two things: He wants me to be self-aware. He wants me to trust him.
Both are very hard for me.
I've been a "singer" all my life, since the 5th grade spring choir concert where I sang my solo, "Tomorrow", with a navy blue and white polka-dotted bow in my hair, while my friend's dad sat in the audience making funny faces and trying to make us all laugh.
I've studied voice since I was 14 years old. All through high school, studying voice was fun. I knew then that I wanted to sing the rest of my life. But in college, the first time I walked into my new voice teacher's studio surrounded by upperclassmen who were confident and comfortable, with classical voices that could burst my eardrums, I felt uneasy, out of place, scared, and insecure.
Maybe it was how all freshmen felt when entering the world of recitals and music hours and practice rooms, but for me, all through college, it never went away. I dreaded my voice lessons. I dreaded practicing. Don't get me wrong, I loved singing. But I loved singing on my own terms. I loved singing in my musical theater touring ensemble. I loved singing in my 4-person gospel group, through which I made a couple of records, my first professional gig, a living for a few years, and friends for life.
But the trained art to singing: I feared.
I felt inadequate. I later realized that it's the things we really love to do that we're most afraid of, because we're afraid of failing if we try.
I really loved to sing, and I was deathly afraid of failing at it. So, I compared myself to everyone around me and found sure ways of finding the negative about myself. I lost a bunch of weight. Too much. And it might have been around this time, or was it part of me my whole life?, that I began to mold myself on account of pleasing others.
In college, I lost myself. It wasn't until I married Seth that I rediscovered my worth in who I was. Seth's love for me reminded me of the love Christ had for me, for who I was at the core, not who I thought I needed to be to make someone else like me. It was and still is a process.
SO, when I walk into a voice lesson with a voice teacher who has successful students on Broadway and internationally renowned opera students, the fears of acceptance and self-worth rush back and there I am, trying to be what and who HE wants me to be instead of just being.
My voice teacher just wants me to be.
That was the lesson I learned in my voice lesson yesterday. That's what "not thinking" means to him. It's a hard lesson to learn, a lesson I haven't quite mastered, one that is a process. But it's a place that, if I can get there, will be a place where mistakes are OK, where perfection is boring, where my feelings are validated and useful, where I am vulnerable and able to trust, not just others, but myself. A place that allows me to be the best artist I can be.
In my lessons, during a vocal exercise, he wants me to simply DO what he says, not process what he says and how it corresponds to my own preconceived understanding of the voice. When he asks me "how does that FEEL", he wants to hear a self-aware answer of how that FELT, not a processed THINKING answer about what I THINK my teacher wants to hear.
Two things: He wants me to be self-aware. He wants me to trust him.
Both are very hard for me.
I've been a "singer" all my life, since the 5th grade spring choir concert where I sang my solo, "Tomorrow", with a navy blue and white polka-dotted bow in my hair, while my friend's dad sat in the audience making funny faces and trying to make us all laugh.
I've studied voice since I was 14 years old. All through high school, studying voice was fun. I knew then that I wanted to sing the rest of my life. But in college, the first time I walked into my new voice teacher's studio surrounded by upperclassmen who were confident and comfortable, with classical voices that could burst my eardrums, I felt uneasy, out of place, scared, and insecure.
Maybe it was how all freshmen felt when entering the world of recitals and music hours and practice rooms, but for me, all through college, it never went away. I dreaded my voice lessons. I dreaded practicing. Don't get me wrong, I loved singing. But I loved singing on my own terms. I loved singing in my musical theater touring ensemble. I loved singing in my 4-person gospel group, through which I made a couple of records, my first professional gig, a living for a few years, and friends for life.
But the trained art to singing: I feared.
I felt inadequate. I later realized that it's the things we really love to do that we're most afraid of, because we're afraid of failing if we try.
I really loved to sing, and I was deathly afraid of failing at it. So, I compared myself to everyone around me and found sure ways of finding the negative about myself. I lost a bunch of weight. Too much. And it might have been around this time, or was it part of me my whole life?, that I began to mold myself on account of pleasing others.
In college, I lost myself. It wasn't until I married Seth that I rediscovered my worth in who I was. Seth's love for me reminded me of the love Christ had for me, for who I was at the core, not who I thought I needed to be to make someone else like me. It was and still is a process.
SO, when I walk into a voice lesson with a voice teacher who has successful students on Broadway and internationally renowned opera students, the fears of acceptance and self-worth rush back and there I am, trying to be what and who HE wants me to be instead of just being.
My voice teacher just wants me to be.
That was the lesson I learned in my voice lesson yesterday. That's what "not thinking" means to him. It's a hard lesson to learn, a lesson I haven't quite mastered, one that is a process. But it's a place that, if I can get there, will be a place where mistakes are OK, where perfection is boring, where my feelings are validated and useful, where I am vulnerable and able to trust, not just others, but myself. A place that allows me to be the best artist I can be.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Day Off
It's my day off today. Rehearsals are going very well. We added in the children's cast this weekend. They are all EXTREMELY talented and well-behaved. I feel very good about this cast on all accounts. Not only are the actors talented, they are inventive, imaginative, and a joy to be with. But honestly, I find that so many actors are a joy to be with. I've not been a part of one single cast that bums me out. There's always the person that you'll never really get along with, but...that's just life.
I always find myself enjoying the rehearsal process before a show opens, sometimes more than the run of the show itself. It's such an exciting time: Finding your character, discovering relationships between characters, and playing with all sorts of ideas. Freedom within boundaries. Your script provides the boundaries, but the freedom lies between the lines, and in making the black and white on paper become color and movement and meaning. By opening night, hopefully, you've solidified enough to be consistent, and then the challenge becomes finding new moments within repetition. But rehearsal is safe. There's no press, no audience, no standard. A clean slate. Who doesn't love a clean slate?
I have a voice lesson today and honestly, I really don't want to go. Voice lessons. Blah. I'll be spending an hour ooohing and ahhhing and eeeehing up and down the octave. See this must be why so many singers run into trouble acting. (None of my fancied friends here, of course.) Too many rules to singing, too much to think about. My voice teacher keeps telling me not to think, but for the life of me I can't figure out how NOT to think. Any suggestions on how not to think?
I always find myself enjoying the rehearsal process before a show opens, sometimes more than the run of the show itself. It's such an exciting time: Finding your character, discovering relationships between characters, and playing with all sorts of ideas. Freedom within boundaries. Your script provides the boundaries, but the freedom lies between the lines, and in making the black and white on paper become color and movement and meaning. By opening night, hopefully, you've solidified enough to be consistent, and then the challenge becomes finding new moments within repetition. But rehearsal is safe. There's no press, no audience, no standard. A clean slate. Who doesn't love a clean slate?
I have a voice lesson today and honestly, I really don't want to go. Voice lessons. Blah. I'll be spending an hour ooohing and ahhhing and eeeehing up and down the octave. See this must be why so many singers run into trouble acting. (None of my fancied friends here, of course.) Too many rules to singing, too much to think about. My voice teacher keeps telling me not to think, but for the life of me I can't figure out how NOT to think. Any suggestions on how not to think?
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Nanny Diaries
I babysat tonight after my rehearsal.
FYI: OK, y'all know I'm not a full-time nanny. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I'm not. But I DO babysit on a consistent basis for the same family, so I guess you could say I'm the Relief Nanny.
You know the four-letter-word? Not the sort of bad one but the REALLY bad one? The one that rhymes with what hockey players hit. SO, the 7-yr-old asks me at dinner tonight what it means. Some kid said it in school. OK now, I get saying "bagina" in 1st grade, but #*&%? 1st grade? Really?
Cuz when I was in first grade, on the second day of first grade to be precise, a kid told me to say the word "Ship," and I did. Then he told me to say it with a "Z" on the end, and I did (?). Then he told me to say it with a "T" on the end, and I did. And he raised his hand and told the teacher that I said a bad word. And I ran over to the teacher in her pretty yellow dress and swore I didn't mean to, over and over again, and she believed me. That kid was a jerk.
I don't remember when I learned what it meant.
But THIS four letter word? In 1st grade? Private boys school first grade. Yep.
I told him it was a naughty word and that we don't say it. What was I supposed to say? Seriously, do you TELL a first grader what that MEANS?
Seth swears I'm in training. I'm starting to believe him.
FYI: OK, y'all know I'm not a full-time nanny. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that I'm not. But I DO babysit on a consistent basis for the same family, so I guess you could say I'm the Relief Nanny.
You know the four-letter-word? Not the sort of bad one but the REALLY bad one? The one that rhymes with what hockey players hit. SO, the 7-yr-old asks me at dinner tonight what it means. Some kid said it in school. OK now, I get saying "bagina" in 1st grade, but #*&%? 1st grade? Really?
Cuz when I was in first grade, on the second day of first grade to be precise, a kid told me to say the word "Ship," and I did. Then he told me to say it with a "Z" on the end, and I did (?). Then he told me to say it with a "T" on the end, and I did. And he raised his hand and told the teacher that I said a bad word. And I ran over to the teacher in her pretty yellow dress and swore I didn't mean to, over and over again, and she believed me. That kid was a jerk.
I don't remember when I learned what it meant.
But THIS four letter word? In 1st grade? Private boys school first grade. Yep.
I told him it was a naughty word and that we don't say it. What was I supposed to say? Seriously, do you TELL a first grader what that MEANS?
Seth swears I'm in training. I'm starting to believe him.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Rehearsal: Day One
Election Day!
But on a less stressful note, guess who I'm singing duets with in Oliver?
Her name's Michelle, and she's Roxy in the musical, Chicago on Broadway. Or she was until she took time off to be in this show. Where I'm singing DUETS with her.
How cool is that?
OK, geek moment over.
Our first rehearsal was good today. I'm gettin', ahem...ge'ing my Cockney accent on.
Our Oliver and Dodger are the cutest little guys you ever saw with really great voices and really great hair.
I met a guy named Neil, who is our Fagin, and when he introduced himself to me, I didn't know whether he'd been on B'way or not. Since he was Fagin, one of the LEADS, I figured: probably. But when I started to ask him, I thought twice about it because what if I asked, "So what Broadway show did you just finish?" and then what if he said, "Uh...never been on Broadway." I would feel awful for making him say that, so what happened kind of went like this.
Neil: Hello. You're our Bet?
Me: Yes! Hi, I'm Amber.
Neil: Hi. Neil.
Me: So...what...uh...(and here is where I thought twice)...brings..... Uh.
NEIL: What brings me here?
ME: Haha. Probably the same thing that brought me here.... Yeah.
He kind of laughed.
ME: So...wherrrre...arrrre you from, Neil?
NEIL: New York.
ME: Grew up here?
NEIL: Yep. Born and raised.
ME: Great! (And I'm thinking, Dangit. He's probably this big Broadway star and I should know who he is and I don't and I've insulted him. I should have just asked what Broadway show he did. Change the subject, dufus.) I really like your glasses.
Ugh. That was stupidly painful.
But yeah, he's done a few things here or there.
Anyways, rehearsal was fun.
But on a less stressful note, guess who I'm singing duets with in Oliver?
Her name's Michelle, and she's Roxy in the musical, Chicago on Broadway. Or she was until she took time off to be in this show. Where I'm singing DUETS with her.
How cool is that?
OK, geek moment over.
Our first rehearsal was good today. I'm gettin', ahem...ge'ing my Cockney accent on.
Our Oliver and Dodger are the cutest little guys you ever saw with really great voices and really great hair.
I met a guy named Neil, who is our Fagin, and when he introduced himself to me, I didn't know whether he'd been on B'way or not. Since he was Fagin, one of the LEADS, I figured: probably. But when I started to ask him, I thought twice about it because what if I asked, "So what Broadway show did you just finish?" and then what if he said, "Uh...never been on Broadway." I would feel awful for making him say that, so what happened kind of went like this.
Neil: Hello. You're our Bet?
Me: Yes! Hi, I'm Amber.
Neil: Hi. Neil.
Me: So...what...uh...(and here is where I thought twice)...brings..... Uh.
NEIL: What brings me here?
ME: Haha. Probably the same thing that brought me here.... Yeah.
He kind of laughed.
ME: So...wherrrre...arrrre you from, Neil?
NEIL: New York.
ME: Grew up here?
NEIL: Yep. Born and raised.
ME: Great! (And I'm thinking, Dangit. He's probably this big Broadway star and I should know who he is and I don't and I've insulted him. I should have just asked what Broadway show he did. Change the subject, dufus.) I really like your glasses.
Ugh. That was stupidly painful.
But yeah, he's done a few things here or there.
Anyways, rehearsal was fun.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Vow to Blog Land
OK. I'm not gonna do this. I'm not gonna drop off the face of the earth when rehearsals start tomorrow.
Not not not gonna do it.
Not not not gonna do it.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
A Trip to Origins
Last weekend, Mom and I went to Origins to buy some make-up. I needed some new foundation and mascara. (LOVE their foundation and exfoliating creme, and certain other essentials) So I ask the lady about it, she pulls up my info on the computer, and goes to work finding product for me.But on this certain day, she's not interested in only finding the product I want, she's interested in selling me MORE.
I've worked retail before. I know how to sell. I've also been putting on make-up for half of my life. I know what I want, and if I don't then I'll ask you, and THEN you can sell me something.
She tells me she thinks I should go a shade darker with my foundation. I say, hmmm...ok let's try it.
LADY: How do you apply your foundation?
ME: (I act like I don't care about applying foundation because I can tell she's smelled meat and is after the kill) (shrug) Oh I just use a make-up sponge. I don't even wear foundation every day. (which is true)
LADY: Well! You should really use a Q-tip to first dab it to your face and then a foundation brush to even it out. Your foundation will last you longer that way. The make-up sponge soaks up too much foundation.
ME: Oh yeah, well I use a brush for my heavier foundation for the stage, but I just don't wear this Origins foundation enough to really care....
LADY: Well! Our brush that I'm using here is nicely-
ME: I have a brush.
LADY: Oh! You have one! Oh ok.
So she applies the darker foundation, which I liked, and then moves onto the mascara.
LADY: Now. You use the "Fringe Benefits" mascara? Because I'll tell ya, I'll really like the "Stay All Day" mascara. The "Fringe Benefits" is really a very light texture and-
ME: Yes that's actually why I like the "Fringe Benefits." My eyelashes are on the longer side and they have a tendency to stick together or go crazy if the mascara's too heavy.
LADY: Oh! Well have you tried our "Underwear for Lashes?" It really works well with the "Fringe Benefits" mascara.
ME: Yeah, I have and it makes my eyelashes stick together.
LADY: Would you like to try it again?
ME: (Big sigh) Sure.
I apply one eye with the "Underwear for Lashes" and one eye without.
ME: I can't really see a difference.
LADY: Hm. well. hm. no. i guess not.
ME: OK.
LADY: Now. Do you have break-outs?
ME: Uh. No not really. I mean sure a little. Every now and then.
LADY: Like at that time of the month?
ME: ......
LADY: What do you wash your face with?
ME: I use Proactive.
LADY: Hm. Because I'm thinking. You have nice skin. You may not need Proactive.
ME: Well maybe I have nice skin because I use Proactive.
LADY: .....
LADY: Oh. Because I was going to mention: We have a new line of organic skin care you might be interested in.
ME: Nope. NOOOOPE. No thanks! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!
I wish. That last line was the "me" screaming inside of me.
Leave me alone, Origins. Leave me be. I'm happy. I'm content.
I don't need you.
So....uh...anyone tried that new organic line at Origins?
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