Ongoing

Opening night of our play was good. We had two reviewers there. We'll see what they say next week. One of them will be incisive and will actually have something to say, I hope. The other one will use phrases like "hits just the right note" and "does a jaunty turn as..."

I am attempting to get my clothes back from the movie people. I had left some of my clothes with the costumer, thinking I would be in the movie. They have been unprofessionally non-communicative with me about this. What a massive and ongoing disappointment. Not that I'm invested emotionally anymore. I just want my jeans and shoes back. (If this behavior is any indication of how L.A. works, then I thank my lucky stars I never moved there. In fact, I read a great interview with Bill Murray, one of my favorite actors, where he said he would never live in L.A. again. He said all they're out for is fresh blood, that's it.)

I have been offered three directing jobs that I am unsure about. One is to direct The Arabian Nights at a well-reputed theatre in town. It would probably be wise to take this job, because their client base is maybe a little different and would get my name out more, and also the guy who runs the theatre seems to be a real pro. The second job is the third installment of the 40's film noir trilogy; I directed the previous two, so I feel sort of obligated to take this job. The people are sweet and fun, the atmosphere is unprofessional and I don't get paid. You can sense my ambivalence. The third job is directing Corpus Christi (the Terrence McNally play which poses Jesus as a gay man) for the best-funded and most poorly run theatre in town. This job would pay, but I'm not crazy about the play, and I don't like working in that theatre (dangerous wires, rats, dank spaces, crowded dressing rooms, etc.). I do however have a soft spot for the artistic director, who has always been good and kind to me in the past.

I need to finalize all these decisions in the next couple of weeks.

It is nice to be wanted, and I appreciate my own ability to see situations from all points of view, but that doesn't make decision-making very easy.

Man is a giddy thing.

Our Much Ado About Nothing opens tonight. On Sunday we had our tech day from 3:30 to 10 pm. Our Don Pedro, a good actor who for whatever reason wasn't able to learn his lines (Dyslexia? Mental block? Self-sabotage? Substance issues? Plain old laziness?), was fired when he showed up to tech day 1.5 hours late. We were able to re-cast his role from someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by someone else in the play, and that actor's role was in turn taken by our stage manager. Though it was horrible to fire him, he seemed to expect it, and the play seemed to begin breathing better when he left (like the day I rearranged the furniture in my room). The play is pretty to watch and with such good actors. I am proud of it. I have that weird feeling of "glad it's opening" mixed with "not sure I want to let go yet."

I have been going to teacher inservices all week, some at St Luke's and some at St Mary's Hall. That has been OK, at times bad, reminding me of why I quit teaching, at times good, inspiring me with new ideas.

Two of my favorite things are the worst things I could possibly consume: coffee and cigarettes. It's not that this is news; it's just that it's the first time I've begun to feel the detrimental effects. Blet.

Here, apparently, is the actor that replaced me in the movie I was cast in. Which is pretty funny. Heh.

In Mid-Leap

I'm doing better. It wasn't long before I began to detect the irony, frivolity, and drunken randomness of God.

Turning my attention to Much Ado About Nothing, the play I'm directing:

One of my actors doesn't know his lines (he has a big part, Don Pedro, Prince of Aragon);

Our violist is gaining confidence each day;

Piece by piece;

I will end this with a semi-colon, because that seems to sum up the current state of things;

Sometimes all you can say is, What The FUCK

I don't want to write right now, but I feel that I should.

Right now I am:

Sad

Confused

Disappointed

Dejected

Enraged

For about a week now, I have been trying to contact someone from the film I was cast in, to get information about when and where my scenes would be shot. In the meantime I have been working on my scenes diligently. They're all memorized, messed with, adapted, personalized. I feel close to this guy.

I have been building my hopes on the assurance that I set a goal and met it.

I just talked to a producer of the movie (I had to track him down), who told me I had been replaced, about a week ago. According to the producer, a "big-name" actor who had been offered the role a while back became available, so they decided to use him instead.

No one called to tell me this.

I have so many questions, so many insecurities cropping up. But mostly, I feel like a chunk of my heart has been torn out.

I know that in the future this will seem like a minor event, and I will see how everything fits together for the best, but right now I am devastated and hurt. And I don't know if this helped, to write about it. What I'm really feeling is kind of ineffable.

Was I too eager?

Too elated?

Did I not read well at the table read?

That one producer didn't like me, I could tell.

FUCK YOU for making me ask these questions, you fucking god damned whores.

That's all for now.

Live Your Own Movie

Last summer I was asked to be in a few spoof commercials which were subsequently shown at an HEB convention. I really enjoyed shooting the commercials, and while we were shooting the third one, I made a conscious intention to do more film work.

At the new year 2010, instead of making any resolutions, I made a goal: to be in a movie in 2010. A couple of weeks later, I had a great audition in Houston for an interesting film about a lawyer fighting the medical supply system. Several weeks after that, I went to Austin to be seen for the role of Mattie Ross' dead father in the Coen Brothers' upcoming remake of True Grit. Then, nothing. My agent didn't even come see me in Waiting for Godot, and I had saved my comps for him. Jerk!

But about two weeks ago, my wayward agent got me an audition for a feature-length film being shot here in San Antonio. I read for the part of a psychiatrist to a young man who has something resembling schizophrenia and delusional disorder. I was able to read the screenplay and work on the audition scene for a few days before I auditioned, so by the time I went in, I felt comfortable, memorized, and was able to enjoy reading in front of the audition panel. The next day, the screenwriter (who is also starring in the movie) sent me a message, informing me that I had been chosen for the role.

There is great satisfaction in meeting a goal which, when it was made, seemed rather unrealistic. I am relishing the thought of being on a film set and learning all about how it works. The movie has a very low budget, but the filmmakers are serious and have experience in the field. One of the producers said it will be submitted to Sundance, and will have a wide distribution. Yesterday I went in to be measured for a costume, and seen for a makeup test. The day after tomorrow, we will have our first table read.

Do I need to mention I'm pretty jazzed about all this?

In other news, speaking of unrealistic goals, I am directing Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing for a local theatre company. I have a fantastic cast and design team, and we open in about a month. I am a little anxious about the set for the play, as my vision requires a surfeit of creative energy and specificity which, to my knowledge, hasn't been expended yet. I met with the lighting designer yesterday and am meeting again with the set designer today, and tomorrow we're all meeting together for the first time, for a production meeting. Almost every time I direct something, I doubt that it will come together: this feeling is nothing new. But this time, with this project, I do feel like the bar has been raised much higher than it was in the past.

Dream Power Activate!

I dreamt last night about dying, but it was so interesting how it happened. I knew I was going to die, and there were other people with me who were also going to die. I was afraid. I closed my eyes and made my body small, anticipating nothingness. But what happened was sort of like an alka-seltzer tablet when you drop it in water, the effervescent effect of bubbles and soda, my body and/or soul dissolving in a mass of effervescence, only to come right back into another reality. Rebirth through bubbles. It was not painful, though there was a sense of something burning away. And when I came back into another reality, I realized that the same circle of people were there as had been there in my previous reality. And it made me think, "I need to make peace with the people in my life, because they will always be here, somewhere." I realized that holding grudges or holding strange secrets are ridiculous in light of the next reality, where everything would be revealed and razed anyway. I woke up with my cat next to me, purring and loving me. I felt so renewed and strengthened and happy after this dream, and in this form of waking. I got up and put on my shorts and a shirt and my sneakers and I got my iPod in my ears and my wallet and an umbrella and went out for a walk. It was about 7 am I guess. It rained on me most of the way, residual from the hurricane they thought would blow through the oil spill, but didn't. I walked in the rain with Paul McCartney in my ears: "Any time, any day, You can hear the people say that love is blind, Well I don't know, but I say love is kind..." I walked down McCullough in puddles and drizzle and a couple of cars splashed me, and my sneakers and eventually all of me got soaked. I got a coffee at a Starbucks where my friend John works. I had been avoiding John because he had treated me negatively a while ago and I didn't want to ever talk to him again, and when I saw him a sort of fearful shiver went through my heart. I turned around to leave immediately, but then I remembered my dream, and how silly it would be to have that fear make me leave, how unnecessary. So I turned back around and got a coffee from him. There were no reunions or revelations, he treated me with his established mode of indifference, even calling me "sir" as he handed me my cup (politeness or coldness? doesn't matter). I walked back home in the rain, getting even more soaked. I was happy, there was life and energy, and effervescence.

F-ing chicken

My boyfriend likes to do origami. He does really cool mobiles. There's an origami book sitting on top of our toilet, and everytime I'm peeing, I look at it. On the cover of the book, there are several examples of the origami patterns that are in the book. One of the examples is the "Pecking Chicken." But everytime I look at it, I think it says "Fucking Chicken."

What could this mean?

Discuss.

dream

this morning

in my dream

i fell in love

with my shadow self

he was elusive

sexual

had seen combat

lived on the street

he knew my name

he stayed busy

he seduced me

without anyone noticing

when he said my name

it was like a whisper

that went right into me

and then he was gone

i tried to follow him

but i felt unfaithful

to my partner

and he was gone anyway

i woke up

feeling

strangely

paralyzed

Songs

There are different kinds of music listeners.

I am the kind of music listener who listens primarily to the melody and the atmosphere of the song before I ever ascertain the lyrics. Sometimes the lyrics are very clear to me and sometimes I can go years without really knowing what a song is about, then when I realize what the song is really about it's a revelation.

For example, there's a Smiths song called "This Night Has Opened My Eyes." It has a pretty, muted, mysterious quality about it, and the lyrics never particularly called attention to themselves. Then one night my eyes were opened:

In a river the color of lead

Immerse the baby's head

Wrap her up in the news of the world

Dump her on a doorstep, girl

This night has opened my eyes

And I will never sleep again

Basically it's a song about getting rid of a baby. How could I not have noticed that? I just thought it was a pretty song about someone having a revelation about something, some night.

Another song I recently realized the lyrics for is The B-52's song "52 Girls," which is much more whimsical.

Effie, Madge and Mabel, Biddie

See them on the beach or in New York City

Tina, Louise and Hazel and Mavis

Can you name, name, name, name them today? ...

These are the girls of the U.S.A.

I always knew they were singing girls' names, but I never knew the song was actually about girls' names.

Last night I heard a band cover The Cure's "Just Like Heaven."

"Show me show me show me how you do that trick

The one that makes me scream," she said

"The one that makes me laugh," she said

And threw her arms around my neck

"Show me how you do it

And I promise you I promise that

I'll run away with you

I'll run away with you"

And then the girl goes away, either into the sea, or into the ocean "deep inside of" the narrator...

In moments like this, I wonder how much of life I'm just blatantly oblivious to...

So much ignorance...

So much to discover...

Flee, flee as a flea to the boneyard

Last Sunday David treated the yard with a new batch of beneficial nematodes.

Last Monday we spent the whole day cleaning the house, taking detritus either to the trash can or the garage, sweeping, vacuuming. When everything was sufficiently clean, we sprayed a toxic flea killing agent in half the house, closed ourselves off in the other half of the house, and waited while the spray dried. Once we had waited long enough, we sprayed the other half, closed it off and waited again. Then, I gave Freda a pill called Cap Star (I think) which makes fleas die and fall off within half an hour. Then we gave Freda a thorough bath.

It has been a blissfully relaxed, flea-free week. Freda has slept again like she used to, with abandon and without fear of jerking awake to scratch an irritating flea away. I'm starting to see fleas again, as of yesterday, on my bed. I have emailed my landlord to ask him to bring in that professional exterminator he mentioned. In the meantime I have sprayed my bed down with a solution of water and flea shampoo, and vacuumed the bed and all the areas around it. I don't know how much sanity I can maintain if the fleas come back like they were.

You might have noticed I changed my blog template. Sort of like a little re-model. I like the drippy watercolor effect in the background.

I'm in a play that I am not enjoying as much as Godot. I am learning.

I would like to travel to a cooler climate for a month or even a week.

I watched Shadow of a Doubt, a 1947 Hitchcock film co-written by Thornton Wilder. A thriller starring Joseph Cotten. I also re-watched Synecdoche, New York, the great Charlie Kaufman movie that came out a couple of years ago.

I am directing Much Ado About Nothing which will open in mid-August. I have hit on an idea that excites me, after much floundering around for an idea, concept, or time period to latch onto. I have a great cast and I am excited about this project, both to be directing as well as to take a break from acting for this one.

I met with the Head of School for St Luke's, where I'll be working in the fall. He is an interesting and alive person who is very supportive of my ideas and has great artistic aspirations for the school. I'll work there only 6 or so hours a week, with 7th-8th graders, creating the first Drama program St Luke's has ever had.

This week David and I went to an impromptu pool party thrown by one of my castmates. It was at night and it was a blast.

Summer Good and Bad

Tennis Camp

Summer School (the kid who pulled the elastic out of his sock and offered it to me)

Chlorine

My sister when she wakes up

Cold musty house

It's such a long drive to Dallas

Basketball falling on my head

Sore legs lying in bed at night

Permission

Weasel & the White Boys Cool

Suitcase full of liquor (at American U when I roomed with Robert)

Arizona

Sticker burrs

Card games

Jello 1-2-3

What day of the week is it?

Gannie

Six Flags

My brother wiping out on his skateboard down the driveway

I've got a brand new pair of roller skates

Salty french fries eaten with pruny fingers

Doritos at the beach

On the shoulders of a life guard

Chiggers

Fireflies (Lightning Bugs)

Dead chicken pile

Hawaiian Tropic

Amazing non-stick bubble gum

Nike

Sweep out the garage every Saturday

Beauty School Drop-Out

Coneheaded Woman

Canyon Lake

Peeling shoulders

Pineapple

Flights

Archie comics

Care package

Homesick

Dust

Public showers

Bowl of sliced peaches with sprinkled sugar

Why can't we be friends?

Bathing suit

High dive

Cousin Linda who made my bed smell so good for weeks...

Duckies

I love my horoscope this week.

It's time for some image medicine, Taurus. Wherever you are right now, I invite you to look down at your left palm and imagine that you see the following scene: an infinity sign whose shape is made not by a thin black line but by a series of small yellow rubber duckies. The duckies are flowing along slowly in continuous motion. They are all wearing gold crowns, each of which is studded with three tiny rubies. With resonant tones that belie their diminutive and comic appearance, the duckies are singing you your favorite song. It makes you feel safe, brave, and at home in the world. What else can see you see there? What happens next?

Presence

My godmother, Jean Jean (double-named at an early age by my sister), passed away this morning. She was in her eighties and had struggled with Alzheimers for six or seven years, maybe more. In the last few years she had become so different than the Jean Jean I had known, lost in that horrible disease. I hadn't seen her in over a year. She had recently been moved to a nursing home in Boerne.

In her heyday, Jean Jean was a consummate godmother. I adored her. She was chic and had a dry southern wit. She cooked beautiful meals. One recent Thanksgiving (2003) she snuck out with me to the guest house to have some wine before the meal. (She didn't think my mother would approve of her desire for wine.)

The most overtold story about Jean Jean and me happened when I was very young, maybe five or six. It was my birthday and my presents were stacked on the dining room table along with the food we were about to eat. As my dad said the before-meal prayer, he said, "We thank you for Jean Jean's presence with us today." No sooner had everyone said "Amen" than I burst out in sobs, saying, "It's not Jean Jean's presents, it's MY presents!" ...alas, I was a greedy little booger... but it made for a good story, told and re-told over the years.

I have been missing Jean Jean's presence for the last couple years, and I will miss her even more now.

Today is the last performance of Waiting for Godot. Thanks to Marc and Margaret for making it down for the show-- y'all are non-stop. :-) My body is grateful that this play is over. David tweezed a splinter out of my foot this morning, and that's not the half of it.

Godot Grotto

Wow, I can't remember the last show I was in that was so hard on me physically. It's the kind of situation where you don't realize how strenuous it is until it's over. During the action, it feels fine, then suddenly it's over and you feel run over by a truck.

The director has decided to have me onstage before the play begins, as the audience is coming in. During this time I may do whatever I want to do. I will probably opt to sleep most of the time, though I may wander and scavenge occasionally. What's most important is that when the theatre doors close, my right foot begins to itch, and my boot just won't come off.

Last night I practiced that pre-show routine a little by lying onstage in costume (for the first time) while everyone else completed their getting-ready processes. As I lay there, I said to myself, "I am confident and grounded in this play. All that remains is to have fun."

And it worked that way.

I know the show will have its ups and downs, but to give myself the simple goal of FUN is kind of an amazing lesson.

In other news, I have always loved Rachel Maddow's show on MSNBC; after reading this article I love her even more.

beckett's masterpiece

Rehearsal was unsatisfying and borderline frustrating tonight, for the following reasons:

1. My cohort keeps apologizing every time he speaks. I thought I was a chronic apologizer! He makes me look like Napoleon! Tonight he actually stepped on a spot on the floor and it creaked and he apologized to it. I am not lying. This would all be funny and chuckly except that this man really takes his apologies to heart. So that by two hours into rehearsal he has hit a wall of exhaustive self-hatred and almost completely shuts down, becoming nearly impossible to work with.

2. We are at that point in rehearsal where things are just frustrating, regardless of the work we're doing. It is standard.

3. I feel that the director hasn't been specific enough with some of the blocking in the show. Now I am a person who believes that an actor can create his own blocking and that makes the movement that much more organic. However, there are bits in this play that call for very specific comic timing and consistency in order to work, and those bits aren't really being established. This worried me tonight.

Ah, relief. I feel better now that those things are off my chest.

Rain

...and lots of it, in San Antonio, today.

An early memory: My mom taking me to a doctor's appointment, at the Children's Clinic on Hildebrand. I was in the backseat looking out the back window of the car (in the days before seatbelts were ever paid attention to). It was very rainy and the radio was on, and some commentator like Paul Harvey was talking. I felt sad because of some separation from my mother. I must have been 6 or 7.

I read a passage from the Tao Te Ching today. It seems strangely appropriate, given the recent nuclear arms talks and the bank bailouts:

The more prohibitions you have,
the less virtuous people will be.
The more weapons you have,
the less secure people will be.
The more subsidies you have,
the less self-reliant people will be.

Risk

Ridiculous how new technology (the iPad) makes my 3-year old technology (MacBook Pro) look like a dinosaur. I don't even know 3/4ths of what my computer can do, and I'm lusting after this stupid new computer that's no thicker than a wafer.

It's a sad state of affairs.

It doesn't help that my left-hand shift key has fallen off, that my battery is dead, and that my electricity cord is fraying. I'm like, a new battery and new cord will cost me upwards of $200; I might as well just throw in another $350 and get an iPad! But no, that's not my thought process at all, really. I just want to get this one fixed. Really. I ain't lying.

The continuing battle against fleas. Another bath for Freda, her Frontline today, David spraying flea spray on the outside sills of the windows.

First rehearsal of Godot tonight.

Late nights staying up, not sleeping, or sometimes sleeping before I can realize I was tired. Limiting myself on certain intakes. Easter with family. Children I'm related to not knowing who I am. The creaky floors. My boyfriend looking in, unsure.

It doesn't make sense and it doesn't have to. I come back to the squirrel in the grass and the current moment's gravity. I am good at what I do.

Ah elusive, overrated sleep

Spring is birthday time in my family. My mom and three siblings all have birthdays in April and May, plus a niece and a nephew.

Today I'm going to my brother's house for an Easter/Mom's birthday/brother's birthday celebration. I don't really see my family that often, so it will be nice.

I see my parents more often than I see my sister and brothers.

I guess there are various reasons why I don't see them that often. One brother lives a 4-hour drive away, that's a hindrance. As for the ones who live closer, I think I'm probably used to alienating myself from them because I didn't want them to know everything about me. Now that I don't care what they know about me, I am used to alienating, so it just works out that way. But I see no reason why it has to stay that way.

This week David and I had a good evening with my nephew and his wife.

I am depressed about: looking haggard, having fleas in my house, being out of shape, and being poor.

I am happy about: starting rehearsals on Waiting for Godot tomorrow, eating leftover pelmeni, listening to Jonsi's new album Go, and seeing my family today.

Return to Form

Life-Changing Events

(every little thing)

My aunt fell and broke her shoulder.

I got an email from Yulia in Moscow saying she wasn't hurt in the bombings.

Joan Armatrading has a new album out. So does Black Francis.

I had purchased some beneficial nematodes for our yard, but never used them.

Mom and Dad bought my lunch today. My mom's pupils were all dilated because of an eye exam she'd just had.

David got his Texas I.D. at the D.M.V. today, and rode the bus.

My cat is scratching. I should have used those nematodes.

events

Two suicide bombers killed 38 people in Moscow today.

I don't like Matthew Rothschild's incessant negativity.

My boyfriend is looking for a job. Today he went to a new bakery that opened up around the corner from us, and who was standing in line but his old abhorred boss. He said he immediately turned around and left the establishment before she could see him.

I have felt bombarded with lint and settled upon by dust lately. So today I aired out the rugs in my room, swept, cleaned under the bed, rearranged, did laundry, took things to the storage room. I guess you could call it a mini spring cleaning.