Star Charts

Our sweet little Hobo Cat won't be coming home anymore. I'm quite broken hearted about this fact, actually, because I didn't realize how much I cared about that mangy, loving stray. The Humane Society didn't have her, none of our neighbors saw her, and one of the neighbors is missing two cats as well, and they're pretty sure coyotes got them. It's horrible. Poor Scruffy. :(

New York was fantastic - it was a bit hot, and New York in the summer has a very distinct reek to it. The subway vents are appalling, sometimes. Avenue Q was an inspiration, as always - the life the performers gave those puppets was incredible, and I was just about peeing myself laughing.

A BACKSTAGE article will be posted soon, but it's basically a review of a book, so I'll have to go get the actual book. This one is about improving your singing psychologically, and apparently it works. I have freaking gift cards, why don't I just go online? :P

I've been taking a little more stock than usual in horoscopes and tarot flips and moon charts and such. Not because I'm superstitious like that, but because I've found that there is a slice of truth in everything, and lately it hasn't been hard to find.

My show goes up in about two weeks, and then it's off to memorize some Shakespeare and prep for the next audition. A never-ending cycle. I hate auditions though. I've got to worry about this show going awesome before I even start thinking about Othello.

The Emerald City

I'm about to head out for a day at the center of the universe, celebrating humanity and art and life with some friends from school. I'm also incredibly fortunate to be seeing Avenue Q today, since it's closing in September. If my camera was working I'd take pictures of the greatest city on earth, but alas, it is still busted beyond repair. I just want to take in all the hustle and bustle of life there - there's nothing quite like it. I'll blog about it when I get back, tell you all the delightful tales of New York and puppetry on Broadway.

And on a separate note, the darling Hobo Cat of previous mention has gone missing. :( I haven't seen her for several days now, and neither has anyone else here. I hope she's all right. I'm rather attached to her.

The Factor

Freshness Factor Five Thousand.

http://freshnessfactorfivethousand.blogspot.com

Some wisdom and life lessons that will inspire you to live each day better. Written by a lyrical and musical genius I'm sure you know pretty well. :)

This road I've begun, this theatrical journey I've wanted so badly - it's just a piece of my life. I'm only nineteen; do I really expect to know how to handle everything now? It's a terrifying, huge world out there - and I want a little tiny piece of it for myself. Everybody does. It's time to start living, time to take a little from this world I'm given. Learn to live and learn to love and take in every second of your life because you'll never get it back. Make the most of every chance you've got. It's hard advice to follow, and I know I'm a hypocrite. But maybe someday I'll learn for real. :)

I'm walking on sunshine, whoa-oh, and don't it feel good.

A-ha

So needless to say I'm odds and ends,
But that's me, stumbling away,
slowly learning that life is O.K.
Say after me -
It's no better to be safe than sorry.




I forgot how much I love that song.

Goodnight

You can't keep a thunderstorm. You can't make one come along if it doesn't want to, and you can't make it go away if it won't leave. You can't shush it, or make it roar. You can't really even understand it unless you're in it. You can't do anything with a thunderstorm except hide from it or live along with it.

I was angry for multiple reasons - it's late, some people piss me off, stupid little things ruin my night, I'm hungry - lots of things. My room was filled with muttered cussing and stale, ranting air from hours of trying to do work and prevent it from ever happening again, so I went outside, right after the sky made it's huge, tree-splitting sound right above my house. That sound is thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Only a few things in this world help us realize exactly how small we are in the grand scheme of things - the ocean is one of them, and a hefty, end-of-the-world thunderstorm is another. I stood at the door, the wet, wild air strained through the screen at my nose, and the silent flashes of light lancing around the clouds was a little frightening. One flare of light that wanted to hold my hand and kiss my hair would shock the life from my teeny little heart in an instant. I went outside anyway, because that rain-sound is so soothing. The hiss and gentle plink and drip that comes with rain and the volume that comes with flash-flood amounts of it is so unique and wonderful that I couldn't resist, now that I was there.

The sky flickered at me, lighting up the world around me, as if it were taking pictures so it would remember where it had been, to see the shivering girl in boxers and an oversized tee-shirt looking up at it and say "Huh - what's she doing out here?"

The rain was big - giant drops still cold from the inverted ocean miles above me. I was drenched in seconds. I couldn't stay. So I went back inside, refreshed, pretty cold, and very humbled.

I love thunderstorms. I wish there was one every night.

Goodnight, world. The morning promises something new.

Dying

I wish I had rehearsal more days of the week. Because everytime we dance or sing or both, I have this wild, insatiable urge to dance myself until I literally am red in the face, unable to breathe, and I collapse against the wooden stage apron and everything goes black.

It doesn't happen, of course, but it's that ability to release, to be wild, to move and try to throw the very essence of my being out through my fingertips. I can't explain what it feels like. But I'm trying to make it contagious. There was a time I didn't feel this way - I want to share it, to let the timid ones and the inexperienced ones have it too, to force them to feel that need to fly apart and nearly kill themselves with what they do. I want to make up for all the shows I feel like I never gave it my all, never did enough. I still feel like I'm not doing enough.

Irene Leagan. Eileen Reagan. Say that five times fast.

I had this idea that when I did my massive Sunshine solo for the first time in front of most of the cast that it would be epic and impressive and shock most of them. It could have, easily, but I wound up losing control and being so entirely winded that I just stopped and waved the pianist on, unable to keep singing. I wanted to impress everyone so bad, to prove I deserved what I got, but all I did was prove I'm out of shape, haha. But for some reason I wasn't mortified like I thought I'd be. I wasn't completely embarrassed. I'm not sure why. They'll hear it eventually. I'll rock it some other time.

There's no time in the world like a summer speeding away. I love it and hate it and can't figure it out. It's beautiful, is what it is.

I now call Ophelia to the stand - wait... um...

http://www.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idUSN1641889620070316

Delightfully clever, fresh, and very intriguing - a split jury proving the genius of the Bard once again.

Hamlet goes on trial, hundreds of years after he was penned. Was Polonius' stabbing pure murder or was Hamlet truly insane? A theatrical event quite unlike anything I've ever heard of, real lawyers and justices and jurors take Hamlet and put it on trial.

I love ingenuity.

The Pop of King

Everyone and their grandmother is talking about Michael Jackson and/or blogging about it, and this is going to be brief, but I have to say that I did think about it for a while and come to my own conclusions. Harlequin's Thoughts on MJ:


- WAY. TOO. YOUNG. My dad is only a year older than MJ. MJ might have been wierd and messed up, but it's still far too young an age to go.

- Most people need to shut up about it. If you are my age or younger, your newfound "love" for all things MJ is as genuine as my Coach handbags from Chinatown. Don't jump on the bandwagon just because you can.

- Yes, he was wierd. Yes, he was a recluse. Yes, he was really fucking wierd. But now that he's dead, that does not give anyone and everyone the right to either worship him or badmouth him right out of the grave. He was a person with a lot of issues and a lot of talent. Let his family grieve without anymore stupid bullshit following him around.

- I feel bad for Farrah and Ryan right now because this totally overshadowed her death. Rest in peace, Farrah.

- It's unfortunate, but the novelty of this deceased "tabloid circus freak" will fade and life goes on. Have your moment, enjoy his music, and move on. I know he died yesterday, but obsessing is way unnecessary.

- I came to my own conclusions about him - you'll have yours, whatever. I think that he was a lonely, sad man with a ton of talent. He had no childhood, an abusive family, and once vitiligo set in and he tried to fix his features, it all just went way downhill. He tried to regain his childhood with his Peter Pan obsession and his friendships (and I do believe it was only friendships, imho) with children, and he was a pitious individual. I hope he finds peace now.


This is the last you will hear from me about this. I had my say, and I'm off to continue living my life and practicing music and learning lines and such.

Back to normal soon with updates on music techniques for different kinds of singing and the necessity of researching a show.

Note

I forgot to mention what I was doing when I revamped the page a little - the photo at the top with the Spotlight Sunburn title is one of the first color photographs ever taken in history - TYWKIWDBI provided the link for that (or StumbleUpon, can't remember which right now).

And I've added a link in the gadgets to the right hand side of the blog, a banner that takes you to FreeRice.com. Support the world and support your vocabulary - play for a little while and feed the hungry around the world.

I start work today, and rehearsals start today. Two of my summer goals have been achieved. A show and a job. This makes me smile, more than a little bit.

Bad Seed

1956 - The Bad Seed.

Can children be killers?

Long story short; hell yes.



Classic Hollywood, filmed with the original Broadway stage cast instead of current (in 1956) film stars, absolutely awesome. That little girl is scary and very, very good. Go watch it.

I love TCM. Best channel ever.