Oh, it's wonderful

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!



And now, to homework. Booooooooooooo.

Mood: Glad for the schlafen.
Music: Ironically, "They Say That Falling in Love is Wonderful"
Thought: To dress up or not to dress up...that is the question.
ETA: A quick to-get-me-excited mock up of a Bye Bye Birdie poster. Huzzah! Auditions in little less than a month!

Put on a funny face

So, in taking a break from paper reading, paper writing, paper writing, and paper reading, I decided to stop suffering and edit that scene. Which yielded this screencap, which made me happy.

Agatha Arrives - Funny Faces are Made



Mood: Bof.
Music: Ambience.
Thought: Red. Velvet.

Passing on Parades

So the Red Sox won the World Series. Huzzah! No more unexpected and horrible long train rides either a) delayed or b) full of inconsiderate fans! Huzzah! But it also meant a class skipped (booooooo) because of said fans, trains, and a need to be back in Marlborough for this afternoon.

Howsomever, this being God, He said, "Ah yes. And I shall send perfect weather for those who long to be jostled in Boston. And I shall have Emily at home, for when Peter sublocates his knee. And thus He spake, and thus Peter sublocated. And yea, forth did Emily offer her support and her old crutches and her voice to read Terry Pratchett during the interminable emergency room wait. And verily, it was - if not immediately good - then at least His Providence. (skip a bit brother) And lo, the people did rejoice by feasting on Chinese food and watching Spiderman 3. (skip a bit more) And thus, forthwith and forsooth, didst the Emily descend into the netherhouse where she did her homework and wondered what day it was."

Poor Pete. He's feeling all like he's asking for too much from us! He's not used to being the invalid. But it looks like his knee might not be in too bad shape. So, praise God! And now we know that anyone who is a lefty in this family or decended from this family will, like a Sleeping (Dancing) Beauty, sublocate his (or her) knee just before his (or her) seventeenth birthday. Oh, the irony! We dancing fools!

And speaking of dancing and speaking of fools, some clips for kicks and giggles:








Mood: But I don't wanna do my homework!
Music: None. The heater on. My fingers typing.
Thought: The problem is that my two papers due on Thursday are more or less the same thing. And I keep thinking tomorrow's Thursday which, in fact, it is not. Ah ca!

I've got the horse right here

His name is Paul Revere
And there's a guy that says
If the weather's clear....

La la la. So, I've just finished the first scene (25 minutes long!) of G&D and am about to have the first real Sarah/Sky confrontation (woot!) probably editing that this weekend. But in the meantime, a taste of the end of "Runyonland" and the whole of "Fugue for Tinhorns" just for kicks and giggles. I'm aiming to have the edit done for Christmas/New Year's.



Mood: Bof.
Music: Internal juke box
Thought: I found the book by Pope Benedick XVI that Mom had given me that I couldn't find before! Huzzah! Reading material!
Thought Redux: Please oh please oh please oh please, Lord, don't let the train be massively delayed from Boston tonight! Thank You!

Ghosts and Other Friends

Continuing impressions of life, currently set to "Comptine d'une autre ete" from Amelie on the Creme de la Creme playlist. Oh, the joys of digital music!

Substituted for the first time in five years at MMS on Friday for the art teacher, covering 4-7th graders, no particular sweat. Howsomever, I discovered that...it is far more difficult to substitute again after years of actually doing. Here were students I would very likely never see again - no names, just a sea of faces, no investment or connection - and I, too, was simply "another substitute" or "Miss Her-Name-on-the-Board." When last I did this job, I was still discovering who I was, what I wanted to teach, teaching style, and perferred age range. I was a (nearly) blank slate, grateful for a job, testing to even see if she wanted to continue this wacky profession. Very different the Miss Snyder that substitutes now, who classroom-controls in her sleep, who is thrown by extra hands for students with IEP's, and whose biggest culture shock is remembering that "school" does not necessarily equal "wearing uniforms."

But - in those free periods, or at lunch, or at any time when a bunch of unknown students weren't mucking about with paint and paper and scissors - when, in fact, I had time to reflect, it was like a nausea, a sudden sea-sickness, a violent wanderlust, a restless pacing within my mind and heart and soul. I found myself incapable of quietly praying to Him about it - I needed to express myself verbally, physically. But the doors between classrooms were kept open, and so since I could not scream, I signed. Largely. And with violence.

It is one thing to substitute with little experience and no expectation. It is another to be bereft of the true heart of the job in this seemingly futile pursuit of the dream. I found that I could teach art - I whipped up an old high school project for those who had finished their other pieces early - I certainly know about it and can do it, but I could care less to teach it. And if that passion isn't there, then the job is not done well.

And as I bent over one child's table, helping him draw concentric circles despite his OCD perfectionism, and smiled at another girl as she proudly showed me something she had made, and told yet another girl to wait just one more second and I promise I'll get the black paper, I wanted to scream at God and the world and ask: "So?!? I left everything and everything left me - and here I am again - and here I am, feet away from the theatre, and without theatre, and without a show, and without friends, and with precious little money and I'm doing the next thing, God - I am - but so what? When, God, when? Because I feel like I'm falling here, and I feel like I've gone backwards, and I'm all lost, God, lost - and at this point all I can do is the next thing You set before me. And many of those things are good, and most of them are good, but I can't see where I'm going and I'm afraid that in following You here I'll lose not You but my faith that You know where You're going. But I've followed You this far, I'll follow You farther. But, God, You've got to give me something. Please. I need people. I need to remember love - from more than just my family. Lord, I need a glimmer. And yes, child number fifty-seven, I haven't forgotten to get the black paper."

So, at the end of the day, I decided not to go down and check out - after all, the office would still be there, because secretaries are greater slaves to the office even than teachers - and instead I snuck down the hallway to the middle school theatre, attempting to look as though I had something Very Important That Needed Doing as I passed various elementary school teachers (who can be a suspicious lot) and pulled - impressively and with great gravity of purpose - open the door of the theatre - and slipped inside.

And as I walked down that aisle - house left, stage right - which I've walked down countless times, past the booth where I had called out to David light cues, down the aisle where I danced during dress rehearsal of "Luck Be a Lady," past the audience that wasn't there, where Margie and Bonnie and Tom would have stood and picked up the pieces of the show that I couldn't see, to the pit where Julie should have stood, to the stage where show after show passed before my eyes - like ghostly images of overlapping film.

And there, stage right, in the curtains, Ryan asking me if King of Fools would ever happen. And there, stage left, in the wings, Jennie politely telling me through her teeth to leave her props alone at Matchmaker. And there, center stage, where Bri dressed in yellow came forth to dance in Much Ado. And there, with darkened lights, the dress rehearsal of Nutcracker with the curtain closed, and the ambient lights on, and the pink chair, and the whole cast sitting with each other moments before we began the run, as though it were truly Christmas Eve. And I cried.

And it was good. Because I haven't really cried since May. And I went on the stage and touched the curtains, and danced "Let Yourself Go" and I missed - oh, how I missed - not the shows (although I missed those, but they were never built to last) but all the people. And what we had. And the girls singing at the microphones, while the boys swordfought. And students dropping in at lunch and after school and at all hours because we had a home. And parties - at the Gonors, at the Millers, at the Snyders. And playing for the camera. And the summer of Hamlet. And the snow of Christmas Carol. And coming back to see each other. And going out to eat. And singing. Seven Ages and the forever-wait for Friday's. So much.

Mood: Pensive
Music: Amusingly, "White Flag" by Dido
But goodness is: Julie and I had a "Drool Over the Amazingness That is Supernatural" party, and a few people have dropped by which is wonderfulness, and a long drive with Johnny, and hopefully a few more seeing folk coming up. Please God.

Caramel has nothing on me

Randominity, semi-obscurity, waiting for Godotity....

I have no red velvet. And I am sadder than caramel.

The inner lid of my eye has a boil on it. This is also cause for caramel.

Break for RED VELVET! (One type, anyway.)

Howsomever, some red velvet came my way this morning when Mom dragged me in to her Bible Study to give a mini-lecture on the seven deadly sins and what they actually are. We laugh, because I do love giving this particular lecture - not out of morbidity - but out of specificity. It's a really great tool for examining one's conscience. And it was loverly to give a lecture again. Felt very...in the swing of things.

This week, one of my favorite classes was done in a sort-of-lecture format (we've been previously doing very hands-on work). The classes themselves didn't work as well as other times, and what I learnt was that for a lecture class to be successful, the lecturer must really really love what he is discussing. Also, he must have a sense that what he is saying is true and is worth sharing. There is a form of false modesty, or a perpetual self-doubt about the very existence of truth, that makes lecturing - if not impossible - then at least not as interesting. But I've been to many a lecture that's been fascinating because of the conviction and jocularity of the lecturer. Just kind of interesting observation.

I'm being called "Em" by one of my teachers (acting, not the one above). I find this amusing. And rather endearing. And completely in character for this teacher who, I think, doesn't even realize that she's fallen into a diminutive with me. Which makes me realize (again) how much students really notice about their teachers that their teachers don't realize they're doing.

Saw the Jane Austen Book Club movie this afternoon. Meh. Perfect for the price. Cute - some bits awfully cute - more of a focus on Emma with attempts at Persuasion and Sense and Sensibility with strains at Mansfield Park and Northanger Abbey and Pride and Prejudice right out the window. Hugh Dancy (le sigh) was in it, reaffirming that American accents on British actors are the new pink, while Emily Blunt (doing the same) went and made herself one of my new (and few) female actor icons. The woman is terrific. And whoever clothed her in the movie did a faboo job. And I love how the British will just lose themselves in a part. Every other actor up there were doing variations on a theme of themselves (or at least previous parts). But Emily Blunt ruuuuuuuuuuuled as Fanny Brice-ish French teacher. La la la! (She was supposed to be Anne in Persuasion, but clearly the author knew nothing about the book. Really.)

This...commute. Is tricksy. And long. And makes for unpleasant Emilies of an evening. And for difficulties with fully delving in either way. Which is somewise good, somewise not as great. But all, c'est ca. No acting outside of class for the Emily. Boo schedules and trains and money and lack thereof. C'est ca. I wish I actually knew French.

Am debating taking a pilgrimage out to Steubie-U in mid-November. Just to go out there and exist and retreat. Why November? Because that's when the mainstage play goes up, natch! And tickets are of a goodly price.

Still trucking away at Snow Queen. Got a bit more, yesterday, while freezing in my driveway. Not that I needed to be freezing in my driveway, but I got out of my car after running an errand and it happened to be freezing but it was also beautiful out - very Autumn - with the leaves and the brilliant clouds and four verses for Gerta popped into my head, so I sang them so I'd remember. Hence, the freezing.

Still sadder than caramel for her red velvet. Poot poot poot. And homework of the Monday night variety (boo unexpected anti-philosophy of evil!) is staring me in the face. If I had red velvet *coughcough* I'd be...well, I'd be behind in my homework but miles ahead in happiness. C'est ca. Ca ca ca ca.

ARUGH! I just want to put on something true and good and beautiful and...forget all this nonsense! Right! Washing my hands of all this weirdness! A Dieu!

Mood: Piratical
Music: My printer, which is convinced I have no more black ink, even as it prints the pages and pages and pages of unfounded reasoning I have to read. Grrrr.
Thought: More and more I am enjoying my Thursday night class. The acting exercises we are learning. And wondering how/if/when I can employ them.
Thought Redux: I hope Wednesday's observation at Hopkinton is interesting. I think it will be.
Thought Ducks Redux: I should, I think, so like to expand the Drama Major at FUS. But then, I could just be yearning for FUS. But who knows.
Final Ducts Redux Ducks: Dear God - AMEN!
ETA: Oh, thank Heavens for this! Too funny!

And the pretty lights keep dancing

So, Monday night I had off - huzzah! Tuesday, I went in to see a tech rehearsal (read: open dress) of Marat/Sade at Emerson's Greene Theatre which is this wonderful little black box of a theatre. Tonight, I saw Wicked at the opera house which is...not a little black box of a theatre.

And as I came home, I listened (on my new iPod! *griiiiiin*) to King of Fools - because it was that kind of night. And as I was rocking out through the Common to "No I Never Could Dance With You" (see below) and, I'm sure, making an utter fool of myself with my spastic jazz hands and funky footwork, all I could think was: "Hey, this isn't half bad! Hey, this is pretty good! Hey - why isn't this on Broadway already?!?!?" (OK, well obviously it needs trial runs and workshopping first, buuuuuut...)

Now, Jules laughs at me, the Epiphany Fish, because as I was downloading Guys and Dolls earlier this week in anticipation of really getting down to brass tacks on editing that for Christmas/New Years, I was stunned that there wasn't more audience reaction to the jokes. Now G&D is clearly a better quality show - both in terms of its longevity in the canon and in terms of the resources HCH had - and is pretty funny I think...but folks just weren't laughing. And it struck me: KOF had people laughing nearly all the time. Like, giddy laughing. And that was with a first-run non-workshopped I've-got-a-barn type thingummy - and no one knew the script or score going into it - and a lot of lines got lost - yaddayaddaydda - but people really really laughed.

Which is encouraging.

Oh. And I'm having major theatre withdrawal. I seriously need to be involved in a show now. You know it's bad when you're lying awake at night, thinking: "Hey! Maybe I could just do a guerrilla performance of Antigone next semester in the vault at Emerson. Yeah. That wouldn't take much. And maybe I'll make it half-ballet. And maybe I could write music for the choral section. And maybe and maybe and maybe...." (Because when I think small, I think big.) Need-theatre-now. Not just watching theatre. In theatre.

But it's all good, too. Because I'm learning. And I have time, now, to stop suffering and write that symphony (as mentions of Snow Queen have shown). It's all good. All good. All good.

And now, mesdames et monsieurs - bon nuit! Je dur aller a ma chambre. Faire des beaux reves!

Mood: Prowly.
Music: Aranjuez! Bearskin foreeeeeever!
Thought: Oooh, I need to revamp Bearskin. The creative coffeepot of the mind is percolating with no hopeful mug in sight, much to the consternation of sugarbowls everywhere. OK, the theatrical coffeepot is overflowing. The poetic? Not so much.

Emily is enjoying

Julie who is enjoying
Emily enjoying
Her day off.

And Chuck. And Heroes. And flying heroes. And iPods. And gorgeous ensembles out of old clothes. And old shoes impractical for the city but perfectly fine for home. And cool weather. And cleanish living areas. Cleaner. And downloaded Guys and Dolls. And Peter's company. And Mom's company. And Dad's speech. And over a thousand songs on said iPod. (One wonders what would happen if one were to count up the number of songs in her ginormous CD collection? Ich weiB nicht! Oh - the excitement!) And "Hard Love" which Cass commissioned and which I'm listening to right now. Which I haven't listened to ever, although I've sung it and played it.

And I'm psyched, too, about having a week without a massive amount of reading - merely a ton of reading. ;P No, I'm psyched really about seeing the tech rehearsal for Marat/Sade tomorrow night - which will actually work towards my final paper for that class. Note to self: do up survey. Note to self: find out how to put survey on-line. May get more responses.

I feel a tad stuck writing Snow Queen - but only a tad. But then again, I haven't sat down to push forward the songs lately. C'est ca. I've been doing G&D stuff - c'est bon. Howsomever, I'm having some difficulty with the character of the Beggar Girl. The question comes down to who or what the Beggar Girl (or boy or old man or old woman or Reindeer shapeshifter or whomever this person's going to turn out to be!) represents. Let me 'splain. (No, there is to much. Let me sum up.)

Snow/Summer Queen: I've realized that these characters are indeed the same person. (Although I think I'm going to leave it in the play that practically the characters can be played by one person or two.) But the difficulty has been, what do they represent? Are they good? Evil? Amoral? What is their motivation? Both appear to be "claiming their own." The Summer Queen obviously has a more dire agenda - she lures Gerta to her and manipulates her own garden so that Gerta will want to stay. The Snow Queen simply picks up Kay in her sledge and lays down some basic ground rules - almost benevolently, as though to test Kay with the hopes that he should over come them.

So, what I've decided is that rather than coming down on a side, I'm going to play that the Summer/Snow Queen is a mirror of the interior nature of the person they claim. Hence, the Snow Queen appears as that Snow Queen - logical, coldly sensuous, very very grown up - to Kay since that is what he is. And the Summer Queen - emotional, capricious, willfully jeuvenile - to Gerta for the same. But the catch is that while she/they exemplify the inner nature of Kay and Gerta - she/they also show the part that their original admires most about themselves - and what is therefore, in its excess, most dangerous and destructive.

The play, therefore, is about overcoming unseen narcissism - that is, that true love comes through loving the other. And in loving, in cherishing the other, one sees oneself in a true mirror - that is, one sees one's own flaws as well as the hidden beauties. If one merely looks at a mirror that is the self, one withers and dies.

So what to do with the beggar person, quest, thing. I...dunno. I'm thinking of changing the character to a boy for several reasons. 1) There aren't enough boys in the play. 2) The Snow Queen works as a foil for Gerta, while Gerta encounters no real romantic foils for Kay. 3) He could play a part in embodying that complete other that Gerta has never sought or felt comfortable with before. 4) If the Snow/Summer Queen is, if not inherently evil as a personality, still inherently destructive to fallen humans, there seems to be a need for a God-figure in the play.

But I dunno. It's all good. And now I need to burn a DVD of the new Seven Ages video with the better "Soldier" section. And miles to go before I sleep....

Mood: Mieux! Merci!
Music: Counterintuitively, The Open Door
Thought: Technology is wow.

Some Lyrics

Because I'm working on the opening song. A jaunty ditty with a chorus sung by the...chorus. Anywho, for the amusement of any to see how the Great Books program has paid off for a theatre major:

John Locke was a very fine fellow
And a very fine fellow was he
And he told us that we knew nothing
And knowing nothing we agreed.

He said you mustn't believe things
'Til you've seen them with your own eyes
And since I've never seen John Locke
I know John Locke was never alive!

Descartes was a very fine fellow
A fine figure of a man
(work on next two lines here, ending with:
"I think, therefore I am.")

But many a man among us
Hast not one single thought
So when you meet someone stupid
They don't think, therefore they're not!

Nietschze was a fine fellow
Who liberated his mind
And he said that God was dead
And God replied to him in kind.

(Second half not done yet, but having to do with the ubermann and Beyond Good and Evil.)

Mood: A mite restless
Music: Guys and Dolls downloading!
Thought: JULIE IS HOME! ...JulieishomeJulieishomeJulieishome...
Silliness is:

And you stay, and you stay

And you never go away
From my garden

Yeeeeeeeeeeees, precious. Finally, I can start suffering and write that symphony! Or opera in my case. I've been feeling Snow Queen-y the past few days - planned out the first three-fourths in one of my classes, began writing lyrics (and memorizing the basic tune) during the break of another class, and spent a good hour and a half on Thursday banging out that section and writing down chords and being generally inspired.

And so I'm working on that song (Gerta's song to Kay in Act I, which will also be sung by the Summer Queen in Act III - nearly word for word, I think) and I just got the best idea for the opening choral with solos number that, get this, makes fun of Endarkenment philosophers! YES! Great books program coming in waaaaaaaaaaaaaay handy! Huzzah!

So, off I go to write a different version of the Philosopher's Drinking Song. Must brush up on my Heigel. (Betcha Cole Porter never wrote that ditty!)

Mood: Exhilerated!
Music: Mentally repeating the best, kick-butt part of Gerta's Act I song, that goes...
Like this: And summer's always in bloom for us
And winter's frost is always far from us
And you stay, and you stay, and you never go away...
...in my garden.
(It sounds much better sung. The chords are very moving.)

Yes

Barbara Nicolosi on heroism. Yes yes a thousand times yes.

Mood: I am so desiring to write Snow Queen
Music: "Keep Myself Awake" - hahaha God
Aaaand.... I am going to bed. Because that is sensible.