You know how in Disney movies and many fairytales there is a princess (or maiden of some sort) who can sing beautifully? She has a soaring soprano that can lure the men-on-white-horses from all across the land. She can dance too, and has a waist that would really only be acceptable in the days of corsets.
That's not the point though. The point is that she sings beautifully, and her voice echoes across the hills. I enjoyed the romance of the story, the siren nature of the song... it never occurred to me to pity any neighbours she may have had. Who knows, maybe there were people in the area just trying to write a paper. Maybe she was distracting them.
Maybe they would really rather that she go to one of the practice rooms that is open until 1am and rehearse her aria there instead of in the dorms.
I mean... I'm just trying to take into consideration the other people in the fairytales, you know?
Showing posts with label random and funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random and funny. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Identifying the weirdos: An examination of normalcy
Pardon the colon in the title. I'm a college student studying psychology. Sometimes I can't help myself.
Today I was meandering down to the theatre, getting my brain in gear for another (another) run through of the play I'm currently in. I was thinking about lines, pondering blocking, and generally getting into the spirit of the thing when I walked by the sports field. Running around were a lot of girls with nets on sticks, some of them wearing bizarre protective clothing, screaming/chattering away ("Keep moving!" "Over here!" and other things I couldn't make out) and throwing a small ball to each other. The whole purpose of the event seemed to be getting the small ball into a largish net at one end of the field. "Womanizer" was blasting out of the speakers.
Ok, ok, I know they were playing lacrosse. I recognise that it's a legitimate sport, and-- even more importantly-- that many people are quite involved and really enjoy it. I know it, but it still looks pretty strange to me.
You know what else looks strange? Baseball. The WHOLE GOAL is to use a stick of specially shaped wood to hit a small ball as far as possible, so that you can run in a circle only to end up back where you started. Basketball? You can't even pick up the ball and carry it. You have to bounce it constantly. Rugby? You can't even throw the ball forward. I'm not sure I see the point.
Regardless, however, of the fact that I cannot discern a real reason behind these sports, I do realise that they have great meaning for many people. They build community, friendships, and give people a common goal to strive for. Which is truly great. I love watching the kids I nanny for play sports... but that's about where my interest ends.
And so, logically, I concluded that these people were mighty peculiar. Nets on sticks? If you say so...
But then I started to think about theatre. Mere moments after I arrived, we began warming up. In sports, "warming up" is a series of stretches and small exercises (I think). In theatre, well, everything is a little different. Here are a number of things that would look very strange from an outside perspective:
- We walk around in circles, repeating "Articulatory agility is a desirable ability. Manipulating with dexterity the lips the teeth and the tip of the tongue." Each time we finish these sentences we turn, all together, and speed up.
- We dance around singing "Ooh, I feel so good like, I knew I would, ooh, I feel so good." We mean it too. And we sing it loudly.
- I spent a good portion of last semester (when I studied theatre in London) working on perfecting my meerkat. Each member of my acting class had to have an animal that had similar physical behaviours to their character. Hilary, my character, was distinctly meerkat-like. I got used to questions like, "Blythe, where is your tail?" Similarly, when being a giraffe in my movement class, I had the opportunity to ask my friend, Elyot, who was a giraffe for acting class, how to chew. It was a serious question. He demonstrated.
- I worked very very hard at being able to transition, with my scene partner, from being a giraffe into being a snail.
- I accept it as standard that one is periodically expected to wear corsets. I'm actually quite fond of them.
- I can quote, verbatim, a surprising amount of Shakespeare, but also can provide you with pieces of David Hare, Ben Jonson, Tennessee Williams, Moliere, George Bernard Shaw... and all of my theatre friends are similar.
- Our set designer left a note on the table today that said, "Floor is not sealed yet. Please be careful when dragging furniture or rolling on the floor." The bit about "rolling on the floor" was necessary.
- I really, truly, honestly struggled when I was given a Shakespearean monologue to perform that included a line with only six syllables. I spent ages wondering where the four missing syllables were, and had several very intense conversations with other actors about it.
- We are handed weapons and instructed to fight, but not hurt each other. We call it stage combat. (Yes, it is choreographed.)
Judge us. That's ok. We're in theatre, so we're a reasonably judgemental lot. But I'd just like to say, everybody else looks just as weird if you stop and think about it.
Today I was meandering down to the theatre, getting my brain in gear for another (another) run through of the play I'm currently in. I was thinking about lines, pondering blocking, and generally getting into the spirit of the thing when I walked by the sports field. Running around were a lot of girls with nets on sticks, some of them wearing bizarre protective clothing, screaming/chattering away ("Keep moving!" "Over here!" and other things I couldn't make out) and throwing a small ball to each other. The whole purpose of the event seemed to be getting the small ball into a largish net at one end of the field. "Womanizer" was blasting out of the speakers.
Ok, ok, I know they were playing lacrosse. I recognise that it's a legitimate sport, and-- even more importantly-- that many people are quite involved and really enjoy it. I know it, but it still looks pretty strange to me.
You know what else looks strange? Baseball. The WHOLE GOAL is to use a stick of specially shaped wood to hit a small ball as far as possible, so that you can run in a circle only to end up back where you started. Basketball? You can't even pick up the ball and carry it. You have to bounce it constantly. Rugby? You can't even throw the ball forward. I'm not sure I see the point.
Regardless, however, of the fact that I cannot discern a real reason behind these sports, I do realise that they have great meaning for many people. They build community, friendships, and give people a common goal to strive for. Which is truly great. I love watching the kids I nanny for play sports... but that's about where my interest ends.
And so, logically, I concluded that these people were mighty peculiar. Nets on sticks? If you say so...
But then I started to think about theatre. Mere moments after I arrived, we began warming up. In sports, "warming up" is a series of stretches and small exercises (I think). In theatre, well, everything is a little different. Here are a number of things that would look very strange from an outside perspective:
- We walk around in circles, repeating "Articulatory agility is a desirable ability. Manipulating with dexterity the lips the teeth and the tip of the tongue." Each time we finish these sentences we turn, all together, and speed up.
- We dance around singing "Ooh, I feel so good like, I knew I would, ooh, I feel so good." We mean it too. And we sing it loudly.
- I spent a good portion of last semester (when I studied theatre in London) working on perfecting my meerkat. Each member of my acting class had to have an animal that had similar physical behaviours to their character. Hilary, my character, was distinctly meerkat-like. I got used to questions like, "Blythe, where is your tail?" Similarly, when being a giraffe in my movement class, I had the opportunity to ask my friend, Elyot, who was a giraffe for acting class, how to chew. It was a serious question. He demonstrated.
- I worked very very hard at being able to transition, with my scene partner, from being a giraffe into being a snail.
- I accept it as standard that one is periodically expected to wear corsets. I'm actually quite fond of them.
- I can quote, verbatim, a surprising amount of Shakespeare, but also can provide you with pieces of David Hare, Ben Jonson, Tennessee Williams, Moliere, George Bernard Shaw... and all of my theatre friends are similar.
- Our set designer left a note on the table today that said, "Floor is not sealed yet. Please be careful when dragging furniture or rolling on the floor." The bit about "rolling on the floor" was necessary.
- I really, truly, honestly struggled when I was given a Shakespearean monologue to perform that included a line with only six syllables. I spent ages wondering where the four missing syllables were, and had several very intense conversations with other actors about it.
- We are handed weapons and instructed to fight, but not hurt each other. We call it stage combat. (Yes, it is choreographed.)
Judge us. That's ok. We're in theatre, so we're a reasonably judgemental lot. But I'd just like to say, everybody else looks just as weird if you stop and think about it.
Monday, 16 February 2009
Thursday, 12 February 2009
A Tale of Few Shoes (a tragedy)
Once upon a time there was a girl who had many pairs of shoes. She had stiletto boots, flip flops, ballet flats, running shoes, a couple of pairs of Converse sneakers, and so on. There was no shortage of footware whatsoever! Then the girl travelled abroad, and did a lot of walking. Around the time she got to Rome, she realised that her beloved Converse sneakers had fallen apart, revealing a dreadful plastic piece that dug into her ankle and made her bleed... so she threw the Converse away. Both pairs.
She missed her Converse, but she was still excited to see what there was to see. She slipped on her favourite black ballet flats, and skipped off to do more adventuring. After several weeks longer, she found herself in the south of France, standing in snow. Being an avid animal-rights supporter, this girl did not own leather shoes, and thus the synthetic material her shoes were made out of was quickly saturated.
She missed her Converse, but she was still excited to see what there was to see. She slipped on her favourite black ballet flats, and skipped off to do more adventuring. After several weeks longer, she found herself in the south of France, standing in snow. Being an avid animal-rights supporter, this girl did not own leather shoes, and thus the synthetic material her shoes were made out of was quickly saturated.
Some more trekking through France in the snow, and by the time the girl got to California, the shoes were ruined. She threw them away, and pulled out her last pair of casual flats-- her brown shoes. This was fine for a while, but clearly they were on their last legs (so to speak). Finally, a California rainstorm finished off the shoes when she found herself standing in an ankle deep puddle. So then those got thrown away.
Now, the girl is down to: 1 pair of running shoes, 1 pair of flowered ballet flats (definitely sunny weather shoes), 1 pair of white lace ballet flats, some boots and high heals, and roughly 100 pairs of (slowly disintegrating) flip flops.
A shopping trip is definitely in order.
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