Friday

Is there nothing better than that moment on a Friday morning when you turn off your alarm and don't have to turn it back on again? Well, yes, that was a silly question, because of course there are a lot of better things than that. My real point was that this is a tiny moment once a week that gives me more pleasure than one would think it should.

Anyway, here we are at the end of the week, and I have kept my little promise of updating every day before work. It has been interesting, if not for anyone reading this, then just for myself. I've never been good at giving myself limits, so I think it's a good idea to try and give myself a time constraint every once in a while.

In any case, I've run out of theatre experiences to drone on about today. I was going to talk about the little attempt at viral marketing that I did two years ago for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, and it was going to end with a link to the infernal thing, but since my free internet space is limited and it is a huge, unwieldy file I couldn't upload it for all and sundry to laugh at (or be bored by, whatever the case may be). My friend Stacy and local Toronto radio/television personality Dan Duran were in it as well and they were great sports to act out my lame script.

Actually, it was fun to have a hand in producing something like that. I had an idea to make a bad commercial with purposely bad acting (since I can't really act that seemed safest) to encourage participation in the Run for the Cure. My friend Sarah had her own advertising company that had just produced the same kind of ad for bug spray and so she had the video equipment and the experience and was willing to throw in her company's time for free. My friend Stacy's company donated the space, and Dan donated his time.

And even though only about 8 people saw it, and I doubt it made any of those people want to join the run, it was cool to see how much effort and coordination just a tiny little two minute video took to produce (I had been producing sales videos for the airplane factory, but that was a different ball of wax, not much creative freedom allowed in that). I was rather pleased at how it turned out at the time considering our very limited budget (none) and time constraints, but looking back at it now, it could have been so much better.

Dan and Stacy did a good job in it, but of course they're professionals. Stacy's got her own cirque troupe that she performs in all over the world in her spare time, and she gets commercial work every once in a while, too. She was even in Chicago! (look for the courtroom scene where a girl on a trapeze drops a gun into Richard Gere's hand - that's Stacy), which is the movie I watched the night before getting the idea to write about my musical theatre adventures.

Hm, and we're back to musical theatre. We have come full circle it seems. Wow. You know, only your seasoned professional writers can choreograph and weave a tale so artfully that it you don't even know you're being led back to the beginning. Such circular writing is usually reserved only for certain political pundits or scientologists. Cool.

Well, that's about it for this week dear hearts and gentle people. Another week has passed forever out of our lives like a ghostly dream a skeleton had while hopped up on morphine, while another week stretches on before us like a Massasauga rattlesnake stretches itself out on the precambrian rock of one of Georgian Bay's many beautiful islands, trying to soak up as much sun as he can before a drunken camper shoots him and waves his dead carcass around on the end of his rifle, hooting and braying in much the same way that a mentally challenged person might hoot and bray while waving around his soiled undergarments.

Hm... I might be a bit burnt out on the similies. It's probably the writing every day thing. But, hey! You know what this means? Since I usually only post once a week I'm all stocked up. This means I can take four weeks off! w00t! See ya in April!

Thursday

Well, it's day four of my daily blogging experiment. It's going well, I think. So far I've had enough stuff to blather on about for three days. We'll see if today's any different.

In grade twelve I helped out a friend who asked me to help him do the sound for the school's production of Working, a weird little amalgam of songs and soliloquays about the jobs that people hold, everywhere from the Paperboy to the Prostitute. It was a strange play, but the more I helped out on it, the more I learned the songs and the more it grew on me.

I began to feel like I wanted to get back into it. It's fun to work on a production, it's a special little club with its own in-jokes and language. I began to want to be part of the after parties and comaraderie again. I decided that I would try out for next year's production, whatever that was going to be.

Well, it turned out to be nothing, and a whole lot of it. Our drama teacher/director had decided to put together a bunch of stuff from a whole slew of musical plays and call it On Broadway. Man, that was the worst musical play idea since Cop Rock. It was just a bunch of snippits of songs and monologues from all over the place pasted together to form a two and a half hour train wreck (well, the first night was that long, the next night he cut a bunch of stuff - but our poor loved ones on that first night).

I had a solo, a song from Oklahoma, "I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No", which is the song I happened to audition with a capella. The director said, "great! That's in the show!" and never bothered to get anyone to accompany me. "No, no, you're fine" he said. So it was the only a capella song in the whole freakin' thing (apparently I could say no to a pianist), and it stood out like a sore thumb. I had that familiar feeling of mortification, but luckily I had padded the audience with different friends and relatives each night so that they could tell me that I didn't suck as horribly as I must have.

Man, I was so pissed, though. Other schools were doing stuff like Little Shop of Horrors or The Sound of Music, something fun that had a script and acts and stuff. But noooo, we had to do little bits from Godspell, West Side Story, On Broadway, Cabaret etc. and monologues from various other plays... just enough of each to make the audience wish we'd have stuck with any one of those just so they didn't get whiplash from trying to follow it. Oh, and he threw bits of monologues from movies in there, too. And other little things that didn't make much sense, either. Like...

Oh, no. Oh, man I just remembered something that I probably blocked out on purpose. Oh, ick! The shame, the horror. The director was also my drama teacher and one of our assignments in that class was to lip sync and act out a song. It was a lame assignment, but I guess it's not too hard for highschool students to do, what with all the videos they watch. But oh, man, that's right. He put my horrible miming lip sync thing in the "play". What has that got to do with being on Broadway? Oh, no, no, no, no... I think it might have been a Lisa Lisa and The Cult Jam song, too. Why would he do that? Why??

(Great, now I'm going to need therapy to get rid of that memory again. Thanks so bloody much, Blogger!)

Anyway. Even though the monstrosity we put on has obviously caused serious psychological damage to me and probably others, it was still fun to do and rehearse. The wrap party was fun and at least I wasn't alone on the sinking ship. We had a good time making fun of our director (one of my favourite teachers, but still, c'mon) and making fun of our own material. And thankfully, only moms and dads ever saw the productions so I didn't get too many slut jokes about my solo from other students.

Nevertheless, that was the last play I ever did. I graduated that year, took a year off from school, then came university. I didn't have the time or the inclination to be part of those productions (like I've said before, the people who take it too seriously get on my nerves something awful, and in University it's all people grooming to do it professionally).

Still, whenever I go to a live production I get that same feeling again, that feeling of excitement and nervousness and fun. And I think that's maybe why I like musicals so much, not because I believe they could ever happen (who breaks out into song while hanging out with their tough 'hood gang?), but because I know how much fun they are to do. Funny that I haven't done anything like that, though, in fifteen years or so, eh? Well, I've been a stage manager, but nothing actually on stage.

Hm... which reminds me. I've got one day left to fill and I've never done anything else in the theatre. Oh, well, I've done something on video in the last couple of years. That's probably the last kinda "in front of people" thing I've done ever. And at least that had a script. Yeah, maybe I'll write about that. Okay, see ya tomorrow!

outro
Dun. Dun. Da da da. Dun dun.
Dun. Dun. Da da da. Dun dun.
"They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway..."

Wednesday

The next year my sister and I were part of the cast members in Finian's Rainbow, a hippy lovefest musical about some Irish immigrants coming to the Old South (in the 70s it was still kinda the Old South). I remember that one of the primary leads was supposed to be a black man, but since were were short on those the actor had to be put in blackface. He was not very convincing as a black man, to me he just looked like a white man with unnatural paint on his face, but they told us it would look better from the audience's point of view. I sure hope it did.

My sister actually had a speaking part in this production, something to the effect of "Woody's coming in on the train today" or something. Not me, though. Not even a scream this time. However, again there were two scenes that I remember well.

The first one was during "That Great Come and Get It Day" when all the cast are supposed to dream what they want to get when they make it rich. They dressed me up in a woman's long gown and woman's sized shoes with a big floppy hat on and I brought in this enormous stuffed bear I had at home. Everyone had to come out with their riches and I remember hearing a lot of "ahhhhhs" when I trudged out on stage in my silly costume.

The other big scene I remember, I actually had fake parents for. This was the magical scene where Sharon (I think, it was a long time ago) is standing over the pot of gold and wishes that the horrible old plantation owner was black so that he could know what it was like. This was difficult on stage because there was really no place for the actor to hide while he scrubbed on black makeup, so the Director had a crowd of people crowd around him oh'ing and ah'ing while he groaned and moaned and put the horribly fake looking makeup on. To detract from the obviousness of what they were doing the director gave me and my fake parents a little bit of business to do to take people's focus off of it.

I was supposed to try and worm my way into the crowd to see what was going on and my parents dragged me back so that I couldn't see it, and I was to look very put out by that. Not a very big thing, but it got a lot of "ahhhs" and some chuckles from the audience.

That's really all I remember about the production itself, but I learned a lot about life from it. The woman playing Sharon (the female lead) I thought was very pretty and nice and sweet, just like her character that I saw in rehearsals and on stage. One day after the show I plucked up my courage to tell her I thought she was wonderful (or something, can't really remember) and she very dismissively said, "yeah, that's great kid" and walked away to go smoke and swear with the rest of the dancers. I was heartbroken, but I remember feeling like I had learned something important, although I wasn't sure what.

I also remember being introduced myself to some, for lack of a better word, fans. This older couple who were probably neighbours or relatives of another boy in the cast (actually, it was the little prick who had played Tiny Tim the year before) were talking to him after the show and he called me over. I didn't want to come over because I didn't like him, he was ratty this production because there were no child leads and he felt being in the chorus was beneath him. Little prick.

Anyway, this nice older couple were being very complimentary (mostly the older woman) and she just had to tell me that she thought I was adorable and she laughed so hard when I came out with that bear, and it is amazing that I could remember all of those songs and dances, and how old was I? Being about 8 or 9 (I may have turned older during the production) I had no idea how to handle the situation, so I just smiled and told her my age, answered her questions as best I could and thanked her. We sort of stood there until it became uncomfortable and I thanked them again and said it was nice to meet them and then I left.

The point being that I guess I liked it when my friends and relatives gave me praise for doing nothing, but it seemed kinda weird coming from complete strangers. At any rate, I handled myself with more grace than that Sharon bitch did. Although, in all fairness, I was still under the "treat your elders with respect" code, which was especially in force since my mother was in the building somewhere.

Anyway, the next year the production didn't have many kids in it (South Pacific), but there were a few and I remember that we had to audition for them. I also remember being terrified to audition. Suddenly, there were people watching me. And if I made a mistake now it would be terrible and I would be mortified. So I pretty much tanked my audition on purpose and was very relieved that I didn't get in the show.

I didn't try out for anything again for many years after that. Preteen/early teen years are rough on a girl's confidence and I just didn't feel up for it. Even highschool productions were out of the question for me. Until I temporarily helped out with the sound for a production in my second-last year.

And I got sucked in again...

Tuesday

I was 7 years old when my mother volunteered to work at the Windsor Light Opera Association making coffee and feeding the troops at rehearsals, etc. She got me and my middle-older sister (12 years-old) in the production of The Stingiest Man in Town, the musical version of A Christmas Carol. I'm pretty sure I must have auditioned, but I don't remember it. In any event, I got the role of "cast member" and I had to learn dance moves and songs.

I really don't remember much of the actual play, I only remember that I had two important scenes that I was in. In the Ghost of Christmas Past scene all of the kids were dressed up like toys in Scrooge's old toy room and I got to be a puppet with the prettiest ballerina dancer in the cast as my puppet master (I think her name was Karen and I was star-struck by her - she was a real, live ballerina!) She pulled on my one string and my arm went up, pulled on another and the opposite leg went up, and like that. It wasn't too difficult. I knew my routine, but if I ever forgot what to do next she was there to tug the right string to remind me. My sister was dressed like a big stuffed bear and she tumbled around the floor with another girl in a bear costume.

Man, I have a feeling that that last sentence is going to attract the wrong element to this site.

Anyway, the other big important part I had was in was the graveyard scene where all of the kids had to kneel in dry-ice fog (very unpleasant smelling) and moan and wail like lost souls. The highlight of the scene for me was when I got picked up by one of the adult male dancers and carried over his head and passed over to another dancer and off the stage. It was then that I got my first line ever, to wit: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH" The director told me to scream my guts out and scream my guts out I did. Man, was that fun. I'd just spend hours at home screaming my head off and when my mom complained I got to say, "sorry, Mum, practicing". Heheh.

Other than that, all I can remember about that production was our choreographer Ken. He was the nicest man alive and on opening night he gave me and my sister roses and the toys that we were playing in the show (he had bought a doll and hand-made puppet strings for it for me and got my sister a stuffed bear). On the card it said "break a leg" and he had to explain the old tradition to me of wishing me bad luck so that I would attract the opposite.

If I were a little older I might have wondered, "why just a broken leg? Why not wish someone an aneurysm, or a heart attack, or a gangrenous pinky finger? Laryngitis, meningitis, emphysema, scoliosis, warts... the list goes on and on. Why, I'm sure there must be a whole musical number full of possible ailments you could wish on someone. A plain old broken leg is boring." However, I was too young to think any of this at the time and I simply thanked Ken for his gift and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

I don't remember being afraid of the audience or really being very self-conscious about performing in front of strangers. I remember getting to wear cool period costumes with the fluffy muffs and fur-trimmed hats and the capes and oh, god, there go the fetish google search returns again.

All in all it was a lot of fun. So much fun that my sister and I joined the cast again the next year. (Can you folks at home guess what the production was? I made mention of it not very long ago...)

Anyway, my time's up, but I think I'll get back into the habit of wishing people bad luck. For fun!

Adieu, my friends and God give us irritable bowel disease... one and all!

Monday

Alright, so last night I had an idea. I thought that I'd try to get up early every morning and just before work type a little something up here. Every single day for the whole work week. I know, it's a wacky idea for a blog... but it's so crazy that it just might work.

(Great, what a wonderful first day. I've only got like twenty minutes to get ready and get my coffee and type this up. Then I get to wait around for ages for my coworker to show up. The time is different every day and your guess is as good as mine as to when she'll drive up, but it's not aggravating, no, no, it makes life interesting! HAHAHA!)

In any case I thought I'd spend this week reminiscing about

My Career in the Theatre.

My first appearance on the boards came when I was just a wee lass of 3 or 4. My mother and aunt had rigged up a makeshift stage in the basement of our house using hideous checkered blankets as the curtains. My mom hid beside the stage with the organ and we put on a Christmas pageant for our aunts, uncles, grandparents and various neighbours. It was just my two older sisters and two older female cousins and me.

I was too young to be trusted with remembering any words so I wasn't in much of the play. They put me in the grand finale, though, where we were to sing Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer. I got to play Rudolph, down on all fours with a fake red nose on. My cousins and sisters gathered around me and started to sing. I was given the envious task of being the superfluous echo at the end of every line, and I had still not been able to conquer my 'r's yet, which lent another level of absurdity to the performance, although I'm sure everyone thought it was just too cute.

"Rudolph the rednosed reindeer..."
"Weindeow" (laughter)
"Had a very shiny nose..."
"Shiny nose"
"And if you ever saw it..."
"Saw it"
etc. etc.

It was a big hit and everyone loved it.

However, I was jealous of my sisters and cousins because they got more to do during the play, so my mother thought it would be a good idea to give me a role off stage to keep my mind off it. She dressed me up with a feather in my hair and gave me a box full of merchandise to hang around my neck and sell to the crowd of tables between acts. So, while my sister and cousin were getting their costumes on (checked tea towels on their heads with a piece of rope around to hold it in place - convincing wise men you'll agree) I went between the tables shyly saying "cigows... cigawettes... cigows... cigawettes..." I pummelled my relatives with my adorableness until each of them bought something from me (even my poor uncle who had bought all my inventory for me in the first place).

It was a fun time, the only time we did anything of that nature, and we all fondly remember it to this day. But for me it was something more. I think it's safe to pinpoint this incident as the defining moment in my young life. I had been bitten by the "have people pay a lot of attention to you and praise you a lot for doing very little" bug, and I had been bitten good.

Tomorrow: I respond to the mournful siren song of light opera societies.