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.

Friday, December 09, 2005

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'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"


    Anonymous Southern Thang said...

    was it widsith? "That passed away/this also may" i'm in the northland from the 20th to the 29th. if nothing else (and with 3 feet of snow, what else could there be?) we should schedule an AIM or a longish chat or some such. miss you awfully much. hope the world is better now that breaktime is almost upon you. :)

    6:52 PM  
    Blogger Lauryl said...

    you dear, dear girl! what a nightmare you've had. i will say a little prayer for you tonight. xoxo

    9:36 PM  

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