Thursday, October 30, 2008

Last Call

I probably could've killed you. Looking at you out of the corner of my eye, you sitting in the passenger seat, saying things that no one has ever dared to say to me before. There was nothing I could do but keep driving, and bite my lip to keep from crying. Not because I was sad, but because I was afraid, and angry at you. Because there you were- pulling me apart, questioning the things I've ALWAYS done. Forcing me, just a little, to own up to what I've been doing. Something no one has cared enough to do before. Like I said, I could've killed you.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Just a Technicality

The Macbook and I are reunited. *love*

I would never say it out loud, or in front of my Macbook... but... I kinda want one of these:

I saw one when I was in the Apple Store today... and I almost fainted. It's GORGEOUS.

I am sitting in the parking lot of the rehearsal hall. So ready for this all to be over.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

With love, Princess

For the last four years, off and on again, (mostly on) - HE has been my partner in crime. HE has been the one I've bounced everything off of, HE's been my love, my life, my best friend, my worst enemy, my parent, my sidekick, my addiction, my suicide, my everything. Somehow, through it all, through the lies and the cheating and the dishonesty I can't shake him. Laying down in bed at night HE's the last thought that flickers through my mind, no matter what. No matter how hard I try, HE's the last thing that crosses my mind before I fall into sleep. I've tried everything, but every time I turn around, there HE is. He is in every song on the radio, every passing glance, every stranger on the street, HE is the one that catches me every time I fall. When I say I love him, I mean it. I couldn't ever explain it to you in words, I couldn't compare it to anything I've ever seen, or felt. I couldn't say it in a song, or with a gesture. But when I look into his eyes and tell him that I love him, I know he understands.

And amidst all of this, something is missing. Something I can't put my finger on exactly. Something I wish I could fix, if only I knew what it was. Maybe it's the inevitable space between two people, maybe it's the groove we fall into. Maybe it's the comfort that comes with knowing someone as well as HE and I know each other. Maybe it's the awkward quiet because you have nothing more to say.

I remember it so clearly, like it was just last night. It started to sprinkle. He was wearing a navy blue Yankee sweatshirt. I was in my pajamas. HE hugged me and tried to keep me from the rain. His hands clasped tightly around the middle of my back, my head resting in the crook of his neck. I was shivering, and standing on my tip toes. It was then that we became us. From that moment on, not a moment has passed when I haven't thought of him. My heart knew, from the moment our eyes met, that this was to be our journey, our challenge, our blessing. That HE and I were simply meant to be. Nothing more, nothing less.

With all of my heart and all the stars in the sky...

Lonely surrounded by you

I am sitting here in my bed eating raspberry sorbet. Ruining my diet- improving my state of mind temporarily.

I've been looking at places to move. Seattle's lush greenery and constant rain seems the most appealing to me. I need a muse. I need something to spark my creativity back up. I told my voice teacher last week that I was unsure if I wanted to continue singing. She started crying and begged me to sing, telling me I had a responsibility to my talent. I am unhappy and I am searching for a change- a dramatic one- a change to fix all things. It starts with little things- dying my hair, perming my hair, cutting my hair; temporarily feeling new. Then I want to pierce my nose and get a tattoo. Then I want to move far away and become a writer. I want change, I need change. Anything but where I am, who I am. It's all very dreary, I realize. I've never been happy in one place. HE could tell you that- I've never been happy with anything steady. I am always looking to run away to something new.

This post has no real point. Thinking aloud.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Hercules and Deianira

Deianira is my favorite Greek Goddess. This is why:
A sword is a man's weapon
She is the only woman in greek history who killed herself with a sword.
I guess usually women hang themselves
but not Deianira
She does this because Hercules was killed by a woman. In killing herself with a sword she is trying to die in the manliest way possible in order to take away the pain from Hercules. Apparently Hercules is in pain because he was killed by a woman, which I guess, for a guy, sucks.
or something like that.

I am so bad at regurgitating information.

The point is: Deianira, Hercules' 3rd wife, was a badass.


The birds are chirping, the sun is rising, and I have class in four hours. WHY AM I AWAKE!? Because after 6 hours of sleep, by body wakes me up. Stupid. Stupid. Ugh.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Lack of sleep

I don't sleep anymore, really. If I do it's between the hours of 6am and noon. I couldn't really tell you what it is I do with all of my extra time either. No sleep, no sleep, just coffee. This can't be healthy.

Carousel, again.

UPDATE UPDATE: My director has YET to be an asshole to me! WOOO HOO. We've been doing music and working mostly with the accompanist while he watches... and he's yet to tell me I suck! Awesome! ... Last night was the first night we actually worked a scene. I was scared out of my freaking mind that he was going to absolutely tear me to shreds- but it was all fine.

I enjoy the direction he gives. I think I'll learn a lot from him by the time this is all over and done with. He didn't direct me really, at all. He directed everyone around me. I've yet to discern, in any show, whether it's a good thing or not when the director doesn't criticize or direct you. Either I am doing exactly what he wants, or he's not paying attention to me. At any rate he's not being a jerk- which I appreciate on all levels.

Let me put the rehearsal process into perspective: Last night there was a scene with Billy and I which begins on page 16 and ends in the middle of page 18. We blocked (laid out, set up) this two page scene for two hours. It took two hours because every time Billy spoke, Mr. Director had another way for him to say his line, or another path for him to walk. I was enjoying this because Julie (me) in this scene is sitting on a bench. So from a safe distance I was able to watch Mr. Director drive Billy crazy by giving him conflicting direction. Needless to say I was rather bored after a while.

The thing I've realized with Mr. Director is you just have to take what he says and to his face, treat it like gospel. "Oh, yes [Mr. Director] that's a great idea, I completely see where you're going with this" and do what he says... word for word. The minute you start to argue, or alert him of the fact that he's giving conflicting direction you have an issue. So, just sit back and take direction... and ignore the fact that he mutters, "actors..." in a very disgusted manner every five minutes.

Two interesting things about Mr. Director: Mr. Director has a Ms. Stage Manager. Ms. Stage Manager sits on the couch and takes notes while we rehearse... blocking notes. Oftentimes Mr. Director stops to give us direction [DUH!] and Ms. Stage Manager will pipe in and try to agree, or reiterate. The hilariousness comes when Mr. Director looks at her and says, "Please." and dismisses her with a wave of his hand. "Please"- pleading with her not to give direction. The look on his face gives everyone, including her, the impression that she's not qualified. If I was Ms. Stage Manager I would be offended by this, hurt, saddened and would surely never make the same mistake again- but I am not Ms. SM and Ms. SM is not me... and time and time again she interjects... and time and time again she is rudely dismissed. I enjoy this interaction between Mr. D and Ms. SM.

The second thing I've noticed is that Mr. D makes incredibly dramatic faces when he watches our scene play out. I can see every emotion that we are supposed to be emitting on his face. When Billy is rude to me [in the scene], Mr. D opens his mouth in SHOCK as though this is the first time he's ever seen the scene. It's like he's watching a very dramatic horror movie, with unpredictable twists and turns. It's almost as though he's trying to be funny. He looks like someone trying to impersonate a very dramatic person- only he's not. I enjoy that he enjoys it so much... watching us every time, like it's the first time.

So far so good with Carousel people. Now that I've written a freaking novel about it... sheesh.

This post off sucks.

It's in my nature to talk a lot, and thus it is in my nature to blog a lot, but I am way too far ahead for this to be any fun.

Monday, October 13, 2008


Sitting in my Greek Mythology class I realize that I am hardly mature enough to handle the content in this course. I have not yet surpassed the point in my life at which I can control my urge to giggle at the word, "penis". Nor am I yet able to summon the strength to surpress a laugh as we talk about young teenagers knocking the penises off of all of the Greek statues (under what circumstances this happened, I am unsure. Of when and where I am also unsure, as I only started listening once I heard the dirty words). My friends and I duck our heads and laugh until we start to cry. The maturity level in row four on the far right side is just about zero, maybe a little below. The fact that we are not the only ones giggling at the Oedipal nature of some of these Gods is comforting, however it does not change the fact that I feel utterly childish. Oh Greek Mythology, how you slay me.

My favorite time of the day

between 9:50 and 11 I get to sit in the hallway of the SS building and sip hot coffee. I ponder life and its meaning, blog, listen to music, and think about The Coffee Guy. I get to watch people walk up and down the hallway and put a story to them. Some walk so fast you'd think they were late for a funeral or something- Some of them meander through this hallway like they've forgotten where the hell they are. Almost every student that trots down this way is wearing something with our University's logo. From what I observe, it's mostly sweatpants and big sweatshirts. College+Winter= The best wardrobe ever. I'm extremely out of it today.... can you tell??

For kicks and giggles.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

All You Have To Do Is Cry

the truth in the words we utter is relative to this moment
the words we speak are fallacies of our imaginations
and feelings only skin deep are pretended to be soul saving
your whispers don’t assuage and the loneliness won’t fade
caught up in the moment we chose save ourselves with three small words
but just like us, darling, they are ephemeral and fleeting, gone with the night
when daylight hits your eyes through the window, I will be gone, and there will be nothing you can do.
I take people and I build them up to be everything I'd ever hoped, only to watch them fall short time and time again. Nothing is ever really as it seems, never as good as it appears to be. In time I always realize that what I'm looking for doesn't exist, what I thought you were, what I think I am, isn't real.

Friday, October 10, 2008

Give me a sign

In my Western Civ. discussion class there is a deaf girl. She has someone come with her to every class to sign for her and I can't help but watch. It's absolutely fascinating. I always think about how difficult it must be to take notes and watch hand movements at the same time.

Because she doesn't speak (or at least I've never heard her speak) she's a little isolated. But, today the boy that sits next to her wrote a note in his notebook and passed it to her. The look on her face was absolutely priceless. Happy. She was ecstatic. I could tell this, not only by the look on her face, but in the way she wrote him back so quickly, as though he might change his mind. They continued to do this for the duration of the class. Her signing person (sorry, not so technical) and the professor saw this going on and ignored the fact that they were distracted and not paying attention. It was all very cute.


When I was younger, about 11, I used to watch AJ and CJ for my mom during the day. She would leave to run errands and I would watch the boys over dinnertime. I used my limited knowledge of the kitchen to prepare Macaroni and Cheese or Spaghettios. Sometimes Mom would make dinner ahead of time, and leave it on the stove for me to serve for them. I remember we had these brightly colored plates with separate sections for food. Two smaller sections, for the dessert and veggies, and one large one for their main entree. Because AJ is the older of the two I used to ban together with him in an effort to get CJ to eat his peas. Two heads were better than one. One day I thought of this brilliant plan: I would call my house (to make the phone ring) and hang up quickly. Then I'd have CJ answer the phone thinking someone was on the line. Because he was 4 he ignored the dial tone he heard upon pressing, "talk". I would sit upstairs on the other phone and pretend I was Hercules. When he was younger he epitomized Disney's Hercules and insisted on having muscles just like his. I, as Hercules, would urge CJ to eat his veggies, and like any good protege would, CJ ate the veggies.

This worked for a while. Each time I would be someone different-depending on the season. Sometimes I was Santa Claus, sometimes the Easter Bunny, sometimes I would even imitate my mom. Eventually CJ began to test the validity of these characters, "No, you're not Hercules" etc. It became harder and harder to execute my brilliant plan.

One evening AJ, my partner in crime, was being particularly ornery. I pleaded with him to eat his vegetables... promising the world on a silver platter if he'd oblige. He refused. Still I asked him to assist me in our phone call ritual. If I could get CJ to down his dinner, all would not be lost. AJ conceded and fulfilled his normal role downstairs while I pretended upstairs. I defaulted back to the almighty Hercules after CJ denounced Santa Claus. AJ, still angry at me for forcing the greens on him betrayed me. I could hear his little voice in the background, "it's not really Hercules, CJ.. it's Katie." I should have known... working with a 6 year old.

It's not definitive

I am trying to study for PHIL110 but I can't stop thinking. I can't stop thinking about the fact that you don't NEED me, you just need somebody. You don't LOVE me, you love the idea of love that I provide. You love the escape from loneliness. You love these things, but you do not love me. And the more you say it, the less I believe you.

I'm trying to forget about the couple having sex next door, but they are so incredibly loud. If half the kids in my theater class had that projection capability we wouldn't have had to use microphones.

I am still wondering about that lizard. I haven't seen him since the other night and I wonder where he is and what he's doing. Today HH made me laugh:
"Have you seen the lizard?"
"No, I didn't see him last night. I don't mind that he's here scurrying around, as long as he doesn't scurry towards my bedroom. Then I would be concernicius."
I love her use of the word she invented: Concernicus (to be concerned)

If I could stop thinking and shake this off I could clearly discern an inductive argument from a deductive argument. There's always that little voice in the back of my head screaming at me from the depths of my brain, "WHO THE &*%@ CARES!?"

This way

"Are you shore fer sertain you love him better'n you love Will?
"Well now that Will's come back he'll start talkin purdy to me, 'n change my mind back."

Thursday, October 9, 2008

A Deviation

I hopped up on his bed.
"Hurry up and pick the movie."
"Me? Why do I have to pick the movie?"
"Just do it. Ready? Go."
"Fine." He walked over to the case of movies and began to list them.
"How about... The Secretary?"
"No, nevermind. You wouldn't like it. What about Closer?"
"What!? Why!? Have you seen it?" He turned to me, squatting down in front of the movies.
"Nope, but I hate Natalie Portman."
"I LOVE Natalie Portman."
"I said, NEXT."
"40 Year Old Virgin?"
"I freaking love that movie."
"Ok then, 40 Year Old Virgin it is."
"God, no. I hate that movie."
He glared at me.
"I'm ONLY kidding, hurry up, put it in."
We both defaulted to the nightly search for the controller. It is our routine and goes something like this:
I lift up the pillow and announce it isn't there.
He checks underneath all of the covers and then underneath me at which point I state, "It isn't under me, I'd feel it."
I look on the floor and again announce that it isn't there.
He lifts up the pillow again and finds it there.
As he puts the movie on I think to myself, "I could do this every night for the rest of my life and be completely content."


"Tell me what you were going to say!"
He laughed.
"No way!"
"Please? Please, please? I'll tell you what I was going to say..."
"You promise?"
"Ok, then."
He pulled her in close and whispered,
"I love you"
He took her breath away. She was silent or a second. She had seen it coming, but even still she couldn't have prepared herself for the way it would sound, spoken aloud, by him.
"Say it again."
"I love you." He paused, "I love you"
She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest.
"What's wrong?"
Again, it was pitch black- except for a candle. She watched the shadows on the walls. They danced anxiously, waiting for someone to put them at peace, to blow the candle out.
"What's wrong?"
He crawled up in front of her and put is back against the wall, also pulling his knees to his chest.
"I told you, Nothing. I just have a hard time...-Everything is absolutely fine."
"Nothing, I should go."
Resting her head on her knees she closed her eyes. Soon enough she smelled the smoke from his cigarette. She looked up to find him on the balcony again, sitting in the dark. She could see the red end of his cigarette glittering through the black.
"Come out here, Baby"
He called to her but she didn't budge.
"I should go"
"Please baby, please don't go"
She reasoned with herself. Maybe this wasn't so awful, that maybe she could love him. Maybe she could find the strength to formulate the words and say it back. Maybe she could accept the fact that he loved her. Maybe not.
"How many girls have you said that to?"
She wondered if he meant it. She tried to believe him, but it wasn't happening. She knew what love meant, she'd been in love before.
He stood up and walked inside. She slipped off the bed and threw her hands around his neck as he was coming in. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed.
"Well, I suppose it's only fair... since you told me what you were going to say, that I should tell you?"
He nodded gently. She whispered softly, almost inaudibly into his ear,
"I love you"
He squeezed her tightly.
"Do you mean it?"
She surprised herself in saying it, even more so in feeling it. He was everything she was looking for. She liked to sit out on the balcony with him and watch him speak. His words were captivating- as he spoke, she hung onto every word tightly, as though she was afraid it would be the last. She liked to watch the way his hands moved when he talked about the things he felt passionately about, and the way he gestured with a cigarette in hand. He was sweet, the way he gently pushed the hair out of her eyes and held her face when he kissed her. She liked that when he laughed, he meant it. She wanted to explain this to him, but she didn't know where to begin.
"Don't let me fall asleep, I can't stay here."
Face to face and inches apart the sound of his breath lulled her to sleep with the comfort of knowing he was right there.
Between the place of sleep and wake she felt a hand on her forehead pushing the hair out of her face. She felt him kiss her forehead gently, pull the blanket up over her, and pat her back softly. He walked over, blew the candle out, then laid back down beside her.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008


We did a full read through of Carousel tonight. I'd never read the script in full... and I ABSOLUTELY LOVED IT. FINALLY I have something to attach myself to, something to care about, something to create a character out of. All hope is not yet lost, I may love musicals as much as I thought I would. Thank you, Carousel. *whew*

"The only thing I could ever really need, only one good thing worth trying to be"

I want to know where I got the idea that I won't be happy unless there's a man in my life. Where I picked up the notion that without a boyfriend, significant other ... whatever, I wouldn't be content. I want to know what it was that made me so afraid to be alone. All I know, folks, is that it sucks. It sucks to be dependent on everyone else. It sucks to never be able to fully attach myself to someone because I'm afraid they'll leave, yet never be able to fully be without them.

Dear Mom & Dad,

What exactly happened here?

Your Daughter


What should we name the 3rd roommate?

Apparently, unknown to me until this morning, HH and I have acquired a third roommate. He's small, thin, and doesn't make much noise. He's gone all day and slips in through the door at night to take up residence beneath the couch. Oh, did I mention he's A LIZARD!?

I'm watching The Hills at 2am this morning when I see something scurry across the floor. My first thought is that it's a cockroach, it must be, but just as he passed by my feet I caught a glimpse of him just enough to tell that it was a freaking lizard. I took my 30 seconds to freak out and then reasoned that I shouldn't wake HH because she'll tell me she's not going to touch it, and thus it will not be removed by either of us. I took the advice of a friend (the only one awake at 2am) and left it there. Upon exiting the shower this morning I say to HH, "Just so you know, there's a lizard in here... he's under the couch right now." She replies, "Oh I know, he slips in underneath the door every night. I watch him do it. Then he leaves during the day." It's not that I'm AFRAID of lizards, I just don't like small, fast, slimy things that I can't see very well. Small things that I could wake up to find in my bed, or on the wall above my head.

At any rate, now we have to buy groceries for three, make room for him on the couch, and split the rent, cable and electricity in thirds. At least we don't have to make him a key... he just slips in through the door whenever.

The Coffee Guy

He's probably about 5'10, has very curly blonde hair and listens, constantly, to indie music- The Coffee Guy. I enjoy watching him interact with all the kids that come by. Every day he has another question to ask everyone, "If you could listen to one song for the rest of your life, what would it be?" and the next day, "If you could listen to on album for the rest of your life, what would it be?" He makes a point to ask EVERYONE that comes to his tent. While preparing my HOT Vanilla Latte he can tell me his life story and then some without even looking down.

I see the same people every day at 9:58am. The tall boy in the blue baseball cap (who, for some reason, is always directly in front of me in line) orders very quickly in a monotone voice and almost always ignores The Coffee Guy's questions. "Iced Coffee" he says. The little blonde girl always orders something different, and always takes 5 minutes to decide. As for me, I order the same thing every day, and occassionally if I am hungry, I'll tack on a bagel to my order for a HOT Vanilla Latte. Every time I order he has to reaffirm halfway through making my latte that it was HOT and not iced. Today a boy I'd never seen before walked past The Coffee Guy's tent and talked with him about going to Mexico. Like always, The Coffee Guy didn't miss a beat making my Latte and spent the entire time with his head turned in the opposite direction talking to this boy about Mexico. All of these things that I observe and all of the events that occur take place in a time frame of maybe two minutes. Today was special because The Coffee Guy wasn't paying SO much attention to my latte and put in extra Vanilla. This makes me happy.

It's all just really stagnant

I am pretty sure (though my math skills are lacking) that I am in the middle of my 7th week of college. First of all- where did those 7 weeks go? Secondly- where was I during those 7 weeks? It's all the same and literally nothing has changed. I am so lucky to have been cast in these two shows, because without them I would be absolutely no where. They're the only things I have to look forward to. Well, them and my birthday.

In other news my dear mother has decided to flee the state come January to be with her fiance in CA. When she asks me how I feel about this I simply reply, "Does it really matter?" Regardless of what I say or think she's going to go. But because this is my blog, and I have nothing better to do right now I'll divulge my feelings. It's sucks. It sucks that she's leaving, though I knew it was inevitable. Upon moving here we had every intention of leaving when we got the chance. I knew this. I know this. This doesn't change the fact that I will miss the house that sheltered me throughout my high school years, or that I won't miss the people who live inside of it. Granted I am in college and supposedly "independent" I still depend on my family. If for nothing else I depend on my mom for emotional support. When I freak out because I all of a sudden hate my apartment, miss my best friends and want to drop out... I call Mom. She invites me for dinner and suddenly everything is good again. Sure, I want her to be happy, I do. But this is really going to SUCK. Miss Co-dependent me is going to have to suck it up and learn to live without Mom.

Short Post

I think I finally found the missing piece. I think I finally found the friend I've been looking for.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

I just received an email from my voice teacher that one of her student's 15 year old brother killed himself a few nights ago. Of course, this made me think of when ER killed himself.

I remember the phone call I got at 9am, from Lauren. I remember not being surprised at all. After she told me we sat on the phone in silence and CC beeped in on my other line. "Did you hear?" He asked. He was out of town at the time and was extremely upset about it. We calmly discussed how our friend was found, hanging, from his bunk bed. I remember telling CC I'd call him if I heard anything else. It was fine. I was fine. I walked out into the living room to put the phone back on its charger and all of a sudden, like a ton of bricks, it hit me. ER was dead. He was dead and he wasn't ever coming back. ER was dead and gone. I sat on the floor in the middle of the room and sobbed uncontrollably. Completely unable to catch my breath, or stand up. CJ walked in the room, concerned. I tried to explain to him what happened but I couldn't form the words. I couldn't bring myself to tell someone he was gone. I called Nana. There was nothing she could have said that would have made it better, and there was certainly nothing she said that led me to believe she understood. It was four days before my birthday.

I had just seen ER a week prior when he was suspended from school for possession of some sort of knife, I think. He and I had been inseperable in Drama Class and partnered up for just about everything. I didn't know ER as well as the rest of my friends knew him, but all the same, for the next few months I didn't know what to do with myself. I remember thinking how odd it was that the world just kept turning, the TV running, the radio playing, people laughing when a human life had just been put to rest. How odd it was that such tragedy could strike and virtually everything was unaffected.

A year to the day we gathered around his grave stone. 7 or 8 of us. It was December and extremely cold outside. Adorned in sweaters, scarves, gloves and hats we sat around him in a circle on the cold rocks. It wasn't so much that we talked about him, but that we talked around him and with him. We talked about some funny times we'd had with him, but we felt as though everything had already been said. There was only so much we could say about our friend who we hadn't seen in a year. One by one we got in our cars and left until only ER remained. We laughed at the fact that maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he was playing a huge joke on us and one day he'd show up at school and we'd all sigh a sigh of relief and move on. This was never the case. ER never walked up the stairs and through the gates again, at least not ER as we knew him. At graduation, three years later, we had a moment of silence for him and a boy who had recently passed away in a motorcycle accident. Even then, May 22nd, three years later, we looked at each other with sad eyes and felt how surreal it all had been, and still was. ER was dead and he still wasn't coming back.

The End.

Oklahoma! ended on Sunday. I could have bawled my eyes out if I didn't have Carousel to think about. For the past eight weeks I've been with that cast 15+ hours a week. There's something to be said about the camaraderie formed within a cast. Being that this was my first lead in a musical (and very nearly my first musical) the entire experience was completely new to me. Reading back on the rehearsal diaries I posted in August and the posts I made after starting the run of the show it's obvious that I was not completely thrilled with the musical experience. In retrospect I can't say that I feel any different now than I did then.

For so long I have put musicals on this brilliant pedestal as being something that only the most talented people can do. I've made them my ultimate goal. All I've wanted for the past three years was to be the lead in a musical- and here it was. The thing about musicals (or at least this one) is that I felt no attachment to the material. This could very well be because R&H have very little meaning or subtext beneath all of their hokey songs and dialogue. When I've done theatre in the past (straight plays) I have become extremely involved in my work and oftentimes so attached to a character that I can't shake it. Maybe it's because this was my first musical, and I'm just barely getting my feet wet. Maybe with more experience I'll be able to pull the same emotion I rely on in straight theatre and plug it into my musical characters. Either way I am willing to be it's going to be difficult. It's hard to sustain a reasonable, believable, meaningful character when you've got to break for song every five minutes and are (at least in my case) semi-worried about what you sound like. We'll see.

Either way I will miss my cast. Eventually I'll miss Oklahoma too... but for now I have heard ENOUGH of those songs. Blegh. Too bad the ones in Carousel SOUND EXACTLY THE SAME.

"Give it to 'em good, Julie. Give it to 'em good!"

Tonight was my second night of rehearsal for Carousel. Naturally, after my rather horrific audition experience I have been hesitant at rehearsals. Last night went well. As a cast we went over all of the group numbers in the show. After the Oklahoma! matinee I was dead tired and standing on my feet and singing for three hours was the last thing I wanted to do... but with that said, Mr. Director was not unkind.

Tonight was a rehearsal for all of the girls, myself, and the other lead, Carrie. Sometimes I wonder what the hell Rodgers and Hammerstein were thinking. In some of my songs I feel as though they ran out of ideas and stuck some lyrics into the song to finish it up. For a girl who loves moving music by the musical geniuses Stephen Sondheim and Jason Robert Brown ... R&H is a little hokey. To their credit, however, the musicals most well known song "You'll Never Walk Alone" is quite heart wrenching and has almost brought me to tears several times (which is completely beneficial to me since I am sobbing throughout the song anyway...).

Tonight I was early to rehearsal just to be sure that Mr. Director has no cause to yell or scream at me. Because I was so early it was only Mr. Director, Beth (a woman from the cast) and I sitting at the table. Beth and Mr. Director have been friends for 30+ years. I watched them sit and talk about previous shows they've done together and try and recount all of the hilarity. In watching them I realized that there's nothing to be afraid of. Mr. Director is just another human being. The ridiculous things he says can be taken in and then let go, just as easy as anything else.

Standing in front of the piano, score in hand, frantically attempting to read my music, I was absolutely thrilled that I accepted the part in the show. For now, everything is good.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Oklahoma! (Oct. 5, 2008)

Today is our last performance of Oklahoma. I think I might have been heartbroken if I didn't have Carousel to worry about. Overall, my experience with this show has been... good. Of course it was not the most professional, or the best by any standard, but I am in love with my cast and my director. It'll be weird not seeing them 14 hours a week anymore.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Our Crimes Have A Reason

She quickly sat up, separating herself from him. She closed her eyes hard and then opened them again, shaking her head.
"Where'd you go?"
"No where. I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere."
"Come back."
It is pitch black. The only light in the room is spilling in through a single split in the blinds. It's an orange colored illumination from the street light outside. Only able to see the silhouettes of everything around her she hops off of the bed & fumbles for her shoes. She slips them on, then grabs her keys off of the floor. She stands in the dark and desperately tries to find something to say. Defeated, she sits on the floor. Quiet for a moment.
"You don't feel bad? You don't feel bad at all?"
"I don't feel bad about anything."
"You shouldn't feel bad. I'm the one who should feel bad."
"Isn't the answer obvious? What do you mean 'why'?"
He's laying on the bed above her and she can't see him. She gets up to leave and then sits down again. She's staring down at the floor, but looks up when she hears his feet hit the ground. He walks out onto the balcony, 3 stories above the ground, and sits down. She turns her head back towards the ground and starts to play with the carpet. Within a minute or two she can smell the smoke from his cigarette. It's drifting in through the sliding glass door that he's left wide open. Now that the bed is vacant she walks over and lays half on it, facing away from him, her feet still on the floor.
"Come out here"
"Come out here, right now"
He starts to make small talk. She's listening intently but not responding. She hears him stand up, walk inside, and close the door.
"This is going to be bright."
He flips on the side table light. She buries her face in the comforter.
"It's not that bad."
She's listening to every noise he makes, afraid to look up. Finally she stands up and faces away from him. Afraid of what she'll feel if she looks at him. He walks up behind her and pulls her hands around to her back, putting them inside of his. He rests his head on the back of her neck.
"It's going to be OK"
She turns around and starts for the door. As she reaches to open it he's at her side.
He motions for a hug and she gently, barely hugs him from the side. Never looking up at him. She walks out into the hall.
Her pace quickens when she begins to realize the magnitude of the crime she committed.

Again, it's pitch black. Walking through the grass to her car she can only see what is directly in front of her. She twists the key, unlocking the door and climbs inside. The drive home seems to take hours, hitting every red light. Trapped in her car she let her thoughts overtake her. She turns up the radio and rolls down the window in an attempt to think of anything else. Anything but him. Once she's home she crawls into bed fully dressed. She sighs a heavy sigh, and tries to find something else to think about-content as long as he doesn't enter her thoughts. Just before sleep she notices a bright light and opens her eyes abruptly. Her cell phone is flashing "1 text message received". It's from him.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."

(to be continued)

The Keeper Of Secrets

I am making a mistake. Currently, in my life, I am making several mistakes that I am aware of, yet continue to participate in. Like always, I am being selfish. I am torn. I am torn between the life I chose and the life I should have chosen. Being the Keeper Of Secrets I can live them both. I can live the life I've chosen and love while fulfilling dreams from a life I passed up long ago and wished I hadn't. If I keep quiet and tread lightly, for awhile I can have what I want. While I'm keeping these secrets I am, for the most part, content. I can have my cake and eat it too. I can have both of these lives. I can have them both at the expense of those I love. At their expense because I'm lying to them about awful things, heartbreaking things.

While they live in ignorance I carry around an intense guilt. Guilt is the price I pay for doing what I want. A constant battle with myself to choose the right thing, to do the right thing, to be a good person. Constantly torn between what I want and what I want, never really knowing which one I want more. The longer this goes on, the more I start to wonder if I'll ever be able to tell which one is really worth giving up. That scares me. It scares me to know that I may never be strong enough to let go of one and fully embrace the other. There's no telling which decision is the right one, or if after giving one up, I'll realize how much I miss the other.


I've begun to make a name playing the Rogers and Hammerstein lead ingenue type. A cast member from Oklahoma! reffered me to another theater company in town (very cool) and last week I went and auditioned. The director ended up giving me the lead that night. I should be stoked... but the director is kind of a jerka complete jerk. Most of the people I've talked to about it bring up the point that if I want to do this as a career I am going to have to deal with stupid directors... so despite my completely unsettling feeling... I took the part. If nothing else, it's another show to add to my resume.

In other news... I am thinking maybe I want to do film instead of theatre. *GASP* I know, I know. For the longest time I have absolutely trashed film. HH and I went to see The Women (so good) the other day and I thought to myself, "Gee, they look like they're having a blast...maybe I want to do that"... then we watched the making of Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and again I thought, "Shoot, I wanna do that." So there you have it. My thoughts are now venturing into the land of film... where they have never ventured before.

On an almost completely different note... It might be cool to be a history major? I really dig my Euro. in Western Civ. class. I mostly love when we briefly discuss US history. I freaking love American History. But what would one do with such a degree? Teach? Ew.

October Post Off

Just a quick update:

I have joined the October Post Off competition. I will be attempting to post more than my competitors (listed below). Hopefully my life will be eventful enough to have real things to post about on a daily basis.

Others participating: (Taylor)
http:// (Jacob) (Ryan) (Nikki)
Myself =)