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Archive for March, 2010

Who’s afraid?

Weird weekend here in Manhattan.

New York City: Day 216

It’s going to be a weird post, too. I can feel it.

Last night, I was supposed to be researching Rabbit Hole, but that led me to reading about Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf which really meant that I was going to spend my time reading about Virginia herself. I was deeply engrossed in the Dreadnaught Hoax– in which Woolf and four of her friends dresses as “Abyssinian princes” and tricked the Royal Navy into showing their flagship, the Dreadnaught, to the visiting “royals”– when I heard it. Three hollow, loud (for lack of a better word) booms.

My heart jumped into my throat. I’m not a particularly skittish person, but there’s something about walking by the World Trade Center site on a daily basis that will put a girl on edge. After my initial tension, I was quick to remind myself that this city makes strange noises. And it does. But as soon as I looked out my window and down onto the street, I saw people just running. Then a voice on a mega-phone was yelling, “Get out of the streets! Get out of the streets!” In seconds, there were a dozen police cars and fire trucks at the intersection of William Street and Maiden Lane. I was looking down at them. They were all looking up.

Then I remembered earlier in the day when I’d been intrigued by the massive crane right outside my window. I remembered thinking that I’d almost gotten used to seeing the men doing facade work on my building coming and going outside my apartment on the 14th floor, but to see a giant metal structure just feet from me where one hadn’t been hours before was still surprising. It all clicked when I realized the crane wasn’t there anymore. I learned that it had fallen into a residential building.

The collapse alone was scary. Then my roommate came home and started telling me about the rash of crane-related deaths that have hit the city in the past few years. Three buildings in the here Financial District were evacuated last night just incase the crane fell which might just cause a building to fall into another building. I was awake until the wee hours of the morning watching the efforts to right the crane. At one point, a few NYPD vehicles appeared that each had large rafts attached to them. Rafts. Really, guys? Though I waited to see how rafts were going to aid in the situation, sleep got the better of me.

This morning, there’s no more yelling, roads are opened again, and the police, their rafts, and the crane are all gone.

So, after a frightening evening, I’m back with Virginia. She fascinated me for awhile, but this is the first time I’ve really read in-depth about her life. Strange, then, to find out just a few hours ago that today is the anniversary of her death. Sixty-nine years ago today, she filled her pockets with stones and walked into the river. She was a brilliant, though troubled, woman. Here’s to Virginia. Who’s afraid?

Yeah. I could feel that this was going to be a weird post.

Everything is a little bit peculiar right now. Or, at least, that’s my sense of things. I’m trying to figure out why I feel this way. Maybe it’s because Spring decided to come to Manhattan, but then she abruptly left. Or maybe it’s because I’m playing a series of particularly dark and tortured characters at the moment. Maybe it’s because I have to move out of my first New York apartment in about a month and that prospect is a little daunting. Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that I saw a show on Friday night that consisted of three naked women performing in and around a giant bowl of soup.

I think spring just needs to come back to us.

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I’m alive. I promise.

New York City: Day 208

But The New School for Drama has taken ownership of my soul for the last few weeks. There’s been so much I’ve been eager to write about, but at the end of the day, after classes and rehearsal and papers and reading and homework and writing and research and studying– I usually just dissolve into a giant puddle of theatre on the floor of my studio apartment. By the time I’ve turned into a human being again, it’s off to 151 Bank Street with me for another day of drama. Another day and another step closer to my MFA. That’s what I keep telling myself.

At the moment, I’m deep in the throes of another epic writing project. I’m writing a play and I can’t for the life of me figure out why that’s so difficult for me to say. Every time I go to work on it, I refer to it as “the thing I’m working on”. The thing. Not “the play I’m writing” or “the piece I’m working on”, but The Thing. So, because The Thing is calling, there won’t be a proper update today, but one is coming soon!

For now, here’s a photo update of the last few weeks.

Another snow storm. Another waffle breakfast.

The International Phonetic Alphabet. It's what we do.

We're in character. Mariah's actually very sweet. And I'm a little scary.

Send us spring.

Yup. Todd sent Jacob a box of "Best Actress" cookies. And they were delicious. Especially Meryl.

Just walking to school...

Hello from the West Village.

Little marchers at the St. Patrick's Day Parade.

The Poet and I snagged a pair of tickets to watch the parade from a prime piece of parade real estate. Luck just finds us.

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Jazz band in Central Park.

My poet friend cut a few of his hairs.

I prefer the "rock 'em" bit to the "sock 'em" bit.

I live way over there.

Hey, that was a lot of pictures! I’ve promised myself that I’ll get back into the habit of properly updating this sucker again, so brace yourselves. Until then, listen to this:

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