The sporadic ramblings of Emily C. A. Snyder - devoted to God, theatre, writing, and much randominity.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

Artistic Director and Co-Founder of TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS. | Author of "Nachtstürm Castle," "Niamh and the Hermit." | Playwright: "Cupid and Psyche," "Math for Actors." | Classical director and educator.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

What is this song all about?

Can't figure any lyrics out.
How do the words to this go?
I wish you'd tell me I don't know -
Dunno dunno dunno dunno
Oh no
Dunno dunno dunno dunno....

And I forgot the last verse
Oh well, I guess it pays to rehearse
The lyric sheet's so hard to find
What are the words -
Oh nevermind.


~ Weird Al's version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" which I *always* think of, even when the original is on. Which it just was. On.

So, what happens when the elements rage? The wild Emily leaps out the front door, onto the mildly-awninged porch and sings her guts out "Before the Storm" to the storm while getting happily wet. (Because, no, she doesn't know when to come in out of the rain!)

Then, after the storm takes out her computer and keeps out her computer, she betakes herself "on a quick errand" to OfficeMax to make up quick copies of the script for VBS for her actors for tomorrow - and ends up taking herself for a two hour drive instead. With muchly singing. And need for a tape recorder. Because she came up with some *durn good* beginning stuff for the full-blown operas (bwahahhahah) of The Snow Queen and The Little Matchgirl. YES! Beginning stuff, granted, but...opera nonetheless! Bwahahahahhahhaha! Belt it, Em!

Who needs a working tape player or radio in a car? Not me! :D

Anywho, so now I'm going to take a look at "11 KOF Show.avi" file and all but two scenes for Act I of KOF will have been finalized. Oh, but how I don't want to work on the second scene that I didn't break up and "Have You Heard About the King" which I think I'm going to have to completely reconstruct. *sigh* But if that's my greatest complaint, I'm doing well.

When sisters are on reenactment weekends, Mothers are at Bible Study conferences, and the lone Emily is left with only a father and a brother what does dinner look like: pizza, mais naturallement. I suppose it's for that reason that I've had two cups of tea today. Even out the balance.

Rehearsal tomorrow. We'll see how it goes. Glad in many ways to have even so small a thing. Feeling oddish in more overwhelming ways to be doing anything. Have never, as expressed to Jules last night whilst *very* sleepy and driving in flash flood conditions (see the stupid Emily upon the road while Julie holds onto the passanger side door handle and hopes) - right, back to the sentence; will reiterate - have never experienced in recent memory or to this degree what might be called phase-nil of theatre. The other phases are as follows:























PhaseActivityEmotion
Pre PhaseWhen I'm getting together all the stuff needed for a show through to auditions"I can't wait for this show! I can't wait for this show! Ugh - I have no time!!!
Phase OnePost-auditions to the first week or two or rehearsal when I'm seeing whether my casting was good, how dynamics are, getting back into the swing of directing"I hate this show. Ugh - what a stupid show. There's no acting, there's no chemistry. I hate theatre. I just want to drop everything now. Why am I not doing [the last show I did]? That one was waaay better than this will ever be!"
Phase ThreeOnce I'm in the swing of blocking again and the actors are beginning to learn their characters and play with the piece"Oh man - this is the BEST!!! ROCK ON!"
Phase FourSomewhere in the middle, once I have to put on my producer hat, in the transition phase from playing in rehearsals to actually being aware of a looming deadline"...holycrap..."
Phase FiveRight before we get to two weeks before tech week, right aas we're starting mini-runs of whole sections and finishing up last-minute blocking and the producer side of it is growing past the part of comprehensionA mix: Power Emily strides forward, makes to-do lists, has her cell phone ringing constantly, smiles and walks over nay-sayers to get everything done; Hidden Emily holds her knees, curls up in a corner, wraps a strand of hair around her fingers and returns to pre-natal sucking of thumbage
Phase SixA week or two before tech week, during runsCan we say calm before the storm?
Phase SevenTech weekEmily transmorgraphies into Theatre Woman - lost in a blaze of ecstacy and agony - decision-maker extreme warring with secret interior sinking. Theatre completely engulfs her every breath and sleep is full of lighting design decisions while visions of missing props dance in her head. She is hardly herself - she simply is the show. And as much as the interior she doesn't believe that any of it can come together, She believes so much in the show that her belief alone will carry it through to completion.
The Lost PhaseTechnically the show happensEmotionally, everything's a blank.
Phase EightPost-Show LetdownC.r.a.s.h.
Phase NineObsessive-Compulsive Grasping: aka watching the show over and over, looking at photos, editing video, reminiscing with cast and crew, relishing every moment of the Lost Phase - this phase frequently overlaps the Pre-Phase, however, making for an odd but helpful tangle since Phase Nine often bleeds into Phase One, making Phase One bearable"Awwwwwwww! I miss the show!"
Newly discovered! Phase NilNo urgent preparation for any other show; no show one is in or crewing or attending; Phase Nine fadingExistentialism: (Please insert a French cafe accent here, complete with black spandex, beret and dripping cigarette ash) "Do aye caire about ze zeatre? Do aye love eet? Do aye 'ate eet? Do aye caire?" (a moment to flick ash and sigh disconsolately at the mimes across the road who are grinning maniacally at Camus-like-me) "Eet is all ridicule, 'ow you say, absurd." (another long drag on the cigerette) "Aie - aye mees eet." (standing, she throws the cigarette beneath one four-inch heel and grinds it into the wet cobblestones) "Or maybe aye don't love eet. 'Oo can say?" (the tan raincoat, knee length and belted, slips over her shoulders with a shrug) "Aye need a new life." (she disappears into the November fog of Paris, artistically passing through the smokey pools of yellow lamplight until the curtain falls)


Yeah. So - theatre life! Wanna join?

Mood: Phase Nil, silly!
Music: Hamlet CD - don't ask. I'm determined that theatre people are simply counterintuitive.
Thought: I just like saying the word "counterintuitive"

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