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.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

How To Make An Emily Relax

1) Finish Much Ado About Nothing with Gaudete Academy

2) Send her to the cast party, where she is heartily entertained by auctions, good food, and better company, theatre games and best of all quietish time 'til 2 a.m.

3) Then send her to the after after party (aka riding around with Jules) for much-needed sisterly bonding

Note: At this point, your Emily should be working on the stage past fumes, past riding on empty - she will be in negative points, pulled into her own swirling black vortex and going strong...or at least, *going*

4) Then allow your Emily to simmer for many many lots hours in sleep

Note: Please realize that it is wholly typical for an Emily at this point to still be having theatre dreams. Do not be alarmed.

5) For best results, add in several unexpected but wholly delightful drop-by guests. If your Emily grumbles, send them with returned theatre stuff.

6) It is advisable, at this juncture, to add in a steady supply of stupid TV shows and repetitive video games, such as Mah Jong and Othello. (Emily will like the latter for the Shakespearean overtones.)

7) Allow your Emily to sleep and rise once again. (Dreams should be less apparent.)

8) Send your Emily to a movie with her Father. For best results, make the movie the wholly wonderful "Stardust" and make the day Free Popcorn Tuesday.

9) Your Emily will now be coming to a slow simmer of desire for theatre (this desire is proportional to the number of days she has Not Done Theatre) - despite her sentiments to "never see a procenium arch again for as long as she lived" a mere twenty-four hours earlier. (This statement is merely a sure sign that the previous play version of your Emily is nearing the end of her lifespan and phoenix-like will rise up anew soon enough.)

10) At this point, send your Emily to a Borders with money enough in her pocket and an Arden edition of Romeo and Juliet on the shelves, a ready pencil for editing the script, a large hot chocolate and warm blueberry muffin. Leave your Emily approximately an hour in this happy state before luring her home for a family dinner of chicken marsala.

11) Allow your Emily to marinate for a while in the newly-purchased super DVD version of Kenneth Branaugh's Hamlet...WITH COMMENTARY!!!...before sending her off to untroubled sleep.

12) Wake your Emily long enough to send her into Boston to drop off her Julie at the airport, get lost in Boston, and find her way back to the Turnpike regardless.

13) Send your Emily back for one last sleep.

14) And wake her at an obscenely late afternoon hour, with the prospect of the "So You Think You Can Dance" finale and evening Mass!

It's weird but wonderful to be on vacation.

Mood: Weird but wonderful
Music: "White Houses" for no particular reason
Thought: Actually, there was a moment of sheer terror this morning around 7 a.m. when I realized that I'd be coming to Boston nearly every day and what am I doing and who thought this was a good idea and where's my safety net and...oh the joys of thought. Pooh.

ETA: So, the dream. All I remember was that I was "back" at whatever school/summer camp/theatre things with whomever had taken over after me - only whomever had taken over still was directing even the college kids. They were doing Midsummer Night's Dream in a very post-modern all-white Stanley Kubrick-ian looking theatre in the round, with these Mother Earth Goddess Weird Overtones. You know, "Cellophane! Nothing but cellophane!"

Anywho, so I was kind of watching one of the run throughs - all I remember for casting was Ryan was Oberon and the director was telling him to "act like a wolf" which he apparently took as "lounge on the floor and look vaguely disinterested" - and all the actors were asking me what I thought of the production. I hedged a bit and told them it was "pretty good" and "very interesting" and they bugged me for what I really thought, and I threw my hands in the air and stage-whispered, "Oh, it's awful! OK, but if you do this and this, that part won't be as bad but..." because I knew that no matter what I did, the fundamentals were just stupid and there was no saving the show.

And then I woke up. Oh, play dreams.


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