My apartment smells like maple syrup.
New York City: Day 158
I’m not complaining. It only serves to remind me that I forgot to mention that I was completely dominated in a pudding fight of epic proportions last week. It was magical.
My goodness, it feels good to be back at school. When I spoke Katie the Trooper on the phone about my dissatisfaction with this town in the winter months, she mentioned that perhaps it was because I wasn’t working. Because I’m stubborn, I told her she was wrong. She wasn’t. Being back at school, doing the work, being around people with a shared passion, getting ready for rehearsals to start– I feel like a new woman. My blues had nothing to do with January and everything to do with the fact that I’m an actress who wasn’t acting.
The first two days of my second semester of graduate school were not the total train wreck I’d imagined they would be. Yesterday’s Theatre History class was incredible, as always. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t be getting my PhD in Theatre History instead of toiling away on my MFA. We spent the class period talking about Büchner’s Woyzeck. Still unfinished when the playwright died, the play is written in quick, non-linear scenes. Jealousy, hallucinations, medical experiments, drum majors, peas– this one’s not to be missed. Werner Herzog’s 1979 film adaptation is also pretty fantastic. Check it out.
This morning, I was quite perturbed at the thought of a full day of Neutral American Speech, Vocal Production, Alexander, and Stanislavski. But here I sit at the end of the day, unscathed. Exhausted and a little worse for wear, but unscathed. It’s only day two and already projects are up and running, which means rehearsal time is about to rear it’s pretty little head. I start off the semester in Stanislavski working with Jessica on a piece called Final Placement. I’m also thrilled to report that Jacob, Ari, and I were cast in All My Sons for Alex’s directing project. I’m really excited to sink my teeth into some Arthur Miller.
And, of course, CoLab. Since we’ve yet to present our performance pieces, the one acts still haven’t been proposed and probably won’t be cast for another week. Those projects are going to be pretty mammoth. I’m getting more and more on edge about my piece as performance time gets closer. It’s one thing, as an actor, to stand on a stage and present someone else’s words. It’s entirely different beast when you’re performing something you’ve written. I’m already feeling exposed. Is this how the playwrights feel? All the time? Sick.
I have to stop second-guessing myself. The piece is written. It’s cast. It’s been rehearsed. Just leave it alone, Lindsey! I’ll probably write about the piece in detail once it’s done and over with since I’m toying with the idea of turning into a longer piece. For now, suffice to say that it’s me, Mr. Neruda, apples, a vintage slip and blue dress, a wooden chair, and envelopes. Lots of envelopes.
Honestly. Where did the break go? It seems like a lifetime ago that Chris and I were busy creating fire hazards while soaking envelopes in tea and then baking them in the convection oven. Time flies when you’re making performance art.
Speaking of envelopes, this makes me cry a little:
That sucker is taped to the door of my apartment right now. Here’s why: I’m a graduate student who lives in Graduate Student Housing. But, guess what! Graduate Student Housing really just means that I’m a woman in my twenties who lives in a dorm. With an RA. And hall meetings. And door decorations. I can laugh about it, but a few of my fellow graduate students fail to find the humor. Look: The Poet’s roommate is a married man who shares a bunk-bed with another grown man. …come on. That’s funny.
I’m suddenly reminded of our first floor meeting. My very sweet and eager RA, Jane, suggested that we throw a door-stop decorating social. “But,” and I quote, “since we’re not supposed to have door-stops, we have to call it a wooden triangle decorating social.” Yeah. A few moments later, a wide-eyed fashion design student from Parsons raised her hand and said, “So… is the social to make the door-stops… or… for… the door… stops…?” Uh-huh.
Anyway. It’s good to be back at the New School for Drama. So good.
Read Full Post »