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

My Photo
Name:
Location: New York, New York, United States

Host: "Hamlet to Hamilton: Exploring Verse Drama" | Founder: TURN TO FLESH PRODUCTIONS | Author: "Cupid and Psyche" "Nachtsturm Castle" & Others | Caitlin O'Sullivan in "The Ghost Ship" (Boston Metaphysical Society)

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Longer post soon

But suffice to say:

  • It's vacation, alleluia!

  • The shows (all two performances on one day of it) went well, alleluia!

  • Despite the fact that my computer seemed to crash the day of dress (see below), it now, inexplicably and miraculously, is recognizing not only my external harddrive, but my camcorder - and is even letting me capture video! Alleluia!

  • Which means that I might be able to edit this break! Alleluia!!!

  • Happy birthday, Peter! (15 - can you believe it?) Alleluia!

  • Trailer checking is awesome. Happy me: "Fun with Dick and Jane" tomorrow night for quasi-pay! Alleluia!

  • Able to put more money in my parents' account today - alleluia!

    And so, despite other setbacks and various disgruntlements and house heaters acting up and a plethora of the forbidden fruit (or bean, as the case may be), there art thou happy, Emily. All else will figure itself out. Twenty-eight is no age to decide the remainder of your temporal life.

    Mood: Much, much, much relieved.
    Music: "Wicked" - just to alleviate "The Producers" recent non-stop - intersperced with "Nutcracker" bits
    Mangled Quote du Jour: "Finally, I can stop suffering and write those letters!"

  • Friday, December 09, 2005

    Something a bit more cheerful

    Or at least not quite as morose to offset below:

    Culled from meine leibenschweister - End of Year Meme Go to your Calendar and find the first entry for each month of 2005. Post the first line of it in your journal, and that's your "Year In Review". There's all this nonsense about making others do it. Bah. And since my first line rarely makes sense, I'll put the first one or two, depending on whether it's a title or not. Right. Makes sense to me anywho.

  • January 2005: "Ring Out the Old/Ring in the New! Just a few thoughts (ah, Pascal! See what thou hast wrought!) before I attack this particular corner of the room and return it to its original cleanlieriness."

  • February 2005: "With shadows slowly growing/The closer to the flame I come/To warm my hands and warm my heart/The larger grows the silent beast/That mocks, and threatens to become/Far realer than the solid me."

  • March 2005: "The king has given up his crown/The king is living with the poor and lowly/The king has thrown his scepter down/And now he wields his fading power only/For one lady/And their bastard child..../(...I've the Quintet in my head, fa la...) Sooooooooo (((clapping hands))) updates!"

  • April 2005: "How lucky are we/To live in MA. She said sarcastically."

  • May 2005: "My hair smells of cookies/Or possibly the combined fragrances of Yankee Candles and Vanilla scent."

  • June 2005: "Oatmeal on my shoulders/Makes me happy,/Oatmeal on my windshield/Makes me cry.../Oatmeal almost always makes me high./~ The sound of John Denver turning over in his grave"

  • July 2005: "Meh. Meh meh meh. Ich weiss nicht warum "meh" - aber - meh."

  • August 2005: "Pourquoi, my dear knight/Am I sleepy again? It appears sometimes it's not the hour, it is the company. Hence, randominity, in which I trust I make myself obscure:"

  • September 2005: "Pride and Prejudice/So, whilst chatting a bit with Mum, I realised why I was so stuck on the whole Clara/Christian scene: I had both of them liking each other from the beginning. Stupid, stupid Emily-Author!"

  • October 2005: "Resolutions made/Freedom riders arise again"

  • November 2005: "I HAVE AN INTRADA!!! (and because my side post-y thingy can't deal with the following exclamation...) ...IhaveanIntradaIhaveanIntrada... And it is goooooooooooooooood. And I think this show might just be amazing."

  • December 2005: See below.

    Mood: Remember the November entry, Em.
    Music: Same CD as below, Alison Kraus' "It Doesn't Matter What I Want"
    Thought: Good song. "Feel the stain of tears/Falling on this space you've left/For years"
    Thought Redux: Geesh. I'm thinking I need a dose of "Albi (the Racist Dragon)" or anything from What the Folk.

  • As if thus much were not

    Supremely apparent...the seventeen or so inches of snow that have fallen squarely on Hudson-Marlborough have effectively cancelled tonight's performance of Nutcracker leaving us with a few interesting factoids about our latest foray into the wide world of theatrics. Or, Apparently Asking Fr. Steve for a Blessing Has Interesting Ramifications. To whit:

  • Wednesday, lunch. Had to set up preview for school of Spanish Dance at lunch, while at the same time semi-bilocating to get choristers to chorus. Asked Fr. Steve for blessing. Spanish Dance went over well. Went to faculty washroom for privacy, etc. Locked outer door with slide bolt as is custom. Heard someone try to open door: no prob, it's locked. Repeated pulling and shoving at door: hoookay, deal fellow colleague, it's LOCKED. Get myself together to open door...it's locked. From the outside. Finally manage to bang on door enough to get another colleague's attention and the keys from the principal so that thoughts of flinging myself from the second story window remain merely options and not necessities. Found Fr. Steve. Asked him what sort of blessing he gave me. He said with a laugh that perhaps the Holy Spirit was trying to tell me to slow down.

  • Strangely, had a very good run of the show that night. Well...mostly. If we don't count somersaulting onto batterpacks and knicking one's lip.

  • Thursday, dress rehearsal day, Feast of the Immaculate Conception, speaker in - just a tad busy. Speaker went well, managed to get readings to readers for mass, go into colleague's room to catch last bit of speaker mini-session, about to move from her room at bell and nearly fall down in a faint. Get myself to my room, find a chair, realize I still feel faint. Got myself next door where Chris was teaching; he agreed to take over mass for me and convinced me to go to the nurse. Went to the nurse who gave me juice and something to eat. Felt more dizzy. Had to call home to Mom to be picked up. (Ironically the day after I extolled Mom for being stay-at-home all these years for exactly this sort of thing.) Got permission to leave school early. Finally got home. Collapsed in Mom's bed and slept and slept and slept.

  • Waking only in a still very woozy prep for dress/tech. But, see, my own laptop all but died of the necessities I needed from it the day before - aka it doesn't recognize the D: drive at all and the program I need won't record music and the cards won't take USB or Firewire...! The list goes on. Borrowed R's laptop. Took it home. Turned it on. What worked perfectly well the night before and hadn't been touched all day suddenly won't show anything on the screen! And all the music for the show's on it! Uber-Daddy comes to rescue and we get it hooked up to home monitor. Load up everything in car, including monitor (but not the kitchen sink). Get to school half hour before show's supposed to go up. Discover that R's laptop with our monitor won't play music at all. Try another laptop - but it has no music playing capability. Send to SM's home for laptop - finally get it in, by which time we're starting dress an hour late...and I'm still woozy.

  • Dress...runs. Not brilliantly, but it runs. Bows are done. Prayers are said. Spirits lifted as far as possible. Multiple Mommies extolled. Best wishes and broken legs imparted. And....

  • It snows. And snows. And makes itself abundantly clear by noon that it's not about to let up. And the show must be cancelled. And we've got three phones going on at home. And we watch last night's rehearsal tape. And we go on AIM just to get our brains off of post-show zombiedom pre-show. And we look at God and ask "Why?" And we look at our fortune cookie that says: "One of the best things to do sometimes is simply to be." And we press together our inexplicably chapped lips and we rest our head against the desktop because we're ending not wtih a bang but a whimper. And we say: "French Butler. That was worse. Eight hours the day before Pirates spent in the booth with lights that kept not working and one pad. That was worse. Klingons in Kiss Me, Kate. That was worse. It could be worse. It could be worse. It's one show. It could be worse." And we smell our Christmas Cookie Candle and we huddle in our blanket of many colors and we read about Edmund Campion as related by Evelyn Waugh because although we may be miserable people and caught up in solely our solipsistic selves, others are generous and we must needs thank them, and we wonder...

  • Why?

    Mood: C'est ca.
    Music: I'm With You CD - recently found.
    Current Lyrics: "I'm so tired of being here/Suppressed by all my childish fears/And if you have to leave/I wish that you would just leave/Cause your presence still lingers here/And it won't leave me alone"