I had a jukebox graduate for a first mate

Bravo dear readers! Thursday's class was an inspiring one, as well as a great release. As said in class, this genre is intense and meaty but most exhausting. If I had to play Electra for an entire run, I think I'd incorporate a little bit of what everyone mentioned: breathing work, mental preparation, lots of sleep, maybe some therapy. And on that note, I am thrilled to start working with Shakespeare.

Enjoy your breaks kids.

Love,
Katie

No Music Today

So... sorry to not have attended class today (especially for you, Michelle; what a horrible scene partner I am. Luckily, our scene is mostly monologues and eensy weensy bits of dialogue).

I spent much too much time studying for what amounted to be a laughable test. "Number 13, HA! obviously A ... number 14, pshh I mean really .... number 15, please! At least challenge me!" I woke up with a splitting headache feeling like I was about to vomit for...this?

Anyway, aside from staying up until 5am in a foggy stupor, staring at my laptop until my eyes bled, I received some rather disheartening news last night. My great uncle passed away. Before you say anything, my family agrees it was probably for the best. He suffered from Alzheimer's for a long time and was on the brink of setting up life in a nursing home. (Although Rosencrantz would disagree...living cooped up in a cell is probably better than living no life at all). But if you met my mother's side of the family, you would not think so. My Uncle George looked a little like Mr. Magoo with a quick wit and remarkable joviality-- but towards the end of his life, all of this went to pot. As with many sufferers of Alzheimer's, he lost himself. His body was there doing the best it could, but his mind was somewhere else.

My great aunt is supposedly handling things quite elegantly (although I believe it hasn't truly hit her yet). She is having everyone over for an intimate memorial service with lunch to follow. There will not be a wake because, as she puts it, "wakes are barbaric."

Love,
Katie

...barely 17 and we were barely dressed

That was ironic.

Sorry friends, but this post will be puny and lame. This weekend was fun I guess. I do not want to get in the habit of going to bed at 5am every morning. Hilary's birthday rendezvous was very exciting. And very happy. I seemed to be surrounded by very happy humans. It was nice. Also nice to see sketch master flex Kareem; he's a good fellow. And I like writing in "see Spot run" sentences today.

The Oscars were ok. It seems to have become some sort of crappy Broadway show or even an attempt to compete with MTV style award shows. As I witnessed celebrity appearances such as Miley Cyrus, Jessica Biel (Spellcheck wanted to type "bile"), Zach Efron and that kid from Twilight, it dawned on me again (I had read up on this somewhere before) that the Oscars are trying to reach a new target audience: us. Apparently they have been desperate for viewers in the past couple of years and who better to target than kids who watch TV and love celebrity gossip? Furthermore, I was studying for Marketing this afternoon and read about how Generation X seems to be clinging to the unraveling threads of their younger years. People are refusing to accept the AARP/cheap movie tickets/moving to Florida-ness of being "old" and want to relate more with the entertainment/technology/bad-assness of Generation Y. Maybe they're sick of "tradition" and want SEX.

Anyway, good for them. Let them get down with their bad selves.

Love,
Katie

Cellophane, Mr. Cellophane

FULL THIRTY TIMES HATH PHOEBUS' CART--

Baker! What acoustics! What grandeur! Slightly less embarrassing than performing within the echo-inducing confines of a tub-- and so much more powerful. I overheard Michelle say that she "got it" when she was on stage. She had an epiphany of character and voice. That must feel good.

Performing the sacrificial piece helped me discover more about the physicality and movement of this genre, however I wish I had memorized the entire thing so I wasn't second guessing my way through it. Also, I am that person who gets "called on" first. Always. In numerous aspects of life. I guess because the more it is written on your face that you'd prefer not to set the tone, the more Kashi will assume you'd LOVE to. Such is life.

This week is going to break me. I have two back-to-back exams, rehearsals, workshops, Electra memorizing, packing for break, elephant riding practice, roller discos, basket weaving.... just seeing if you were paying attention.

Love,
Katie

Stop making your eyes at me, I'll stop making my eyes at you

Such a weird day. I woke up and finished studying for my exam. Ha! yeah right. I set my alarm for 9:30 but ended up sleeping an hour longer. "2 hours. That's all I need in order to ACE this shyte." Wrong. Not sure what I did to that test, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't what the professor had in mind. In between groggy studying and The Test, I witnessed an ethereal moment. I was sitting on the second floor of Rauch, my head filled with images of McDonald's taking over the world with their marketing strategy, when via my peripheral vision I witnessed the ever-twinkling fall of thick snowflakes-- and not any old snowflakes; snowflakes that snowed with a vengeance. (I know! This girl is crazy about snow!) It was a sight to be seen. I am a fan of temporary snowfalls-- now you see me, now you--

Electra. That vowel-picking-out exercise was very helpful. You know, there are some absolutely magnificent words that do not get enough tongue time. For example: punctilious, dulcet, eschew and felicitous. There are other words I do not like: nugget. Yes. Nugget is a terrible word.

I apologize that these entries of late have been so short. I am excited to attend class tomorrow-- I get to watch my friends perform their Grecian wonders.

Also, I am ready for Spring break.

-Katie Cakes

I like that, I like that, Girl twirk that back

That's what I get for adhering to this ridiculous rule.

I have just been trying to get these God-forsaken scripts off my hands so that they can be used for more important things, like acting out the physicality of character and feeling up Tim and Justin. Electra is proving to be quite a feat, but I am confident in the fact that I have memorized nearly a third of my monologue. At the same token (tokens! R and G!), it needs to be speedier because we only have so much class time to work on other matters.

You know what's difficult? Trying to keep the audience interested in my lengthy monologue. I seem to have trouble altering the inflection and tone of my voice so that the interaction still remains a stimulating conversation. Speaking with restrained fury, but also striking Clytemnestra with my words so that she is frozen in space, seething with anger and the eagerness to counterpoint.

Wintertime was CRAZY. Oh, I knew what was going to happen, but it was still interesting to witness the stark contrast between it's puny, skeletal form at the play reading, to the hefty beast that it is now-- it put on so much meat along the way. I give a lot of credit to the actors for baring their bums and boobs and balls (pretty much). All in all, an entertaining night. Congratulations Kashi, Katherine, Michelle and Alex.

Love,
Katie

He said you're just as boring as everyone else

Class was a trip. As soon as Kashi flipped that light switch, I could feel it and I was there. Performing our scene for the first time was like breaking in a new baseball glove. It was stiff and rigid and unsure of it's purpose, but after a while I think it will expand and flex, giving way to new discoveries and opportunities. Lame metaphor, juicy class.

Thursday was Go Big or Go Home: The Acting Edition. P Styles, R & G class, R & G rehearsal. I added it up and I believe it was SEVEN hours of acting. Yeehaw. During those seven hours I was bound to learn something, and did I ever. I need to do some voice work if I want to nail down Electra as well as the Player in R & G. At the same time, I don't want to be too hard on myself since Thursday was a day of firsts. First time playing Electra, first time getting the Player on his feet, first time using my mid range voice. I may not be spot on these first couple of days, but I am very confident that by letting it stew in my mind for a while, I'll GIT IT. Getting those goddamn scripts out of my hands will do wonders. The sooner I memorize, the better.

This is... I mean, I don't even...?

Love,
Katie

Why don't you come on over, Valerie?

1) Warm. Sunny. "Budding tulips among the cigarette butts!" Warm. Holy hell I never thought I would appreciate the day as much as this. I was always a winter gal--something about parking yourself in a snow bank as a kid and taking in the silence the snow creates, no sound but the sway of the trees and the breath on your lips (I know. Snow is poetic. It's nothing new.)

2) Anyway, class yesterday. Nice way to begin my day, as usual. I hadn't gotten any sleep the night before-- I think it's because I downed a coffee and iced tea right before I went to bed (I see you judging me!) And so the longish warm up session was like sending an electric surge through my body like "who's ready to act?!" I AM. "Hey, whatcha doing, Katie?" Oh nothing, just waiting to take on a WILDEBEEST."

You'd think wildebeest would have the word "beast" in it, but there goes the English language again, fucking with your head.

3) The task of creating a Greek world seemed fun and a great way to utilize artistic license (I almost typed autistic). But then I guess personal issues came into the mix, and next thing you know the air is thick with passive aggression and middle school-ey whining. And I joined in as well--because that shit spreads like a virus--But it's supposed to be fun, people! We take each other too seriously. So once we cut the crap and focused on embodying the people of Ancient Greece, it was grand. It felt good to have Kashi walk into our world and approvingly observe our Acropolis-like environment and graceful movements.

4) Reading the text posed an interesting challenge (I felt like I had bronchitis after class). I believe an actor can grasp the intensity of the words without changing the pitch or volume of his or her voice. Take Sir Ian McKellen, for example. He is an accomplished Shakespearean actor and has successfully performed several monologues without screaming at the top of his lungs. But that intensity--that blistering energy and vigor is still there. I have to work on making it "bigger" without causing the audience to groan and say "wahh wahh." And that brings me to another point: a negative result of turning on the "acting voice" is that the words sound bland and repetitive, when really, there are so many fascinating things you can do to the audience and/or another actor with every line. These are real people who discussed problems that are still very much relevant to today's society; so I must learn to stray from stereotypical visions of the Greeks-- which merely constitute the shell of these characters-- and breath life into them so that they are real, heart-pumping organisms.

5) Look at this interesting adaptation of Electra, performed at MetroStage in DC. It's kind of Polaroid Stories-esque. Dunno what to think of it.

6) I am thrilled to take on the role of ELECTRA, Warrior Greek. Along with my bitch of mother CLYTEMNESTRA, played by Miss Beckerman.

Love,
Katie

Don't let your mind get weary and confused

It's late. I should be in bed. My nose and fingers are freezing--basically any tiny extremity/appendage I have is cold. I am thoroughly exhausted and scared and confused as I have just attempted to trudge my way through the deep murky waters of job hunting. I wish I could be Bastian from The Neverending Story and take out my daddy-made PB&J sandwich, just a 5 minute break from my imaginary journey.

I don't know if I'm ready to enter the work force, the economy's shit, and it's too late to apply to Grad school- that would require GMATs and effort. I tell myself I will find something, I just need to accept that maybe it might not be what I want, at least initially-- and this is OK with me. Doesn't mean it's not mind-numbingly terrifying.

I had a very eventful weekend. Thursday night Tally Ho as per usual, Friday night apprentice showcase at Touchstone, and Saturday night wizard mayhem. Obviously.

The apprentice showcase was incredibly raw, albeit impressive. I wasn't particularly taken with the first one act, but was reassured by the refreshing cleverness of the second. It was a creative adaptation of the story of King Solomon, beautifully told by one apprentice-- I swear she had a voice like smooth, creamy chocolate milk (or something)-- and brilliantly acted by the rest of the apprenti, who silently danced their way through Solomon's journey and life lesson. The beautiful depictions of scenes and their transitions filled the gaps in my imagination perfectly so that props and set pieces would have been superfluous. I could give several examples, but there are too many to choose from and my descriptions would probably not do them justice.

The night went sour, though, when all four apprenti came out and sang "This Little Light of Mine" with the help of foot stomping and bongos. At one point, an actor came up into the audience and pulled a girl down to dance on stage with him. Eh. Stick to acting.

Hope you are having a good, satisfying slumber.

Love,
Katie

We weren't supposed to make it past 25, the joke's on you we still alive

1) I went with Bess into the city to go to this crazy fundraiser/party/weird0 fest of performance artists/music artists/terrible artists (I would like to say, straight away, that this is in no way a dig at Bess, ya dig?). And so there we were, outside of this hole-in-the-wall Bulgarian bar (way cool, right? Yeah, if you like to either shoot up or get KNIFED without so much as a nod from the homeless guy across the street. Maybe it was the caution tape). Ok, it wasn't that bad (although apparently, I love parentheses, and now commas, too! I can't contain myself!). Bess and I gave it some time to breathe-- why not just let the woman wearing a one size too small corsette complete with homemade fortune cookie-carrying puppet arms be free to express herself? And that couple in the commencement gowns and clown noses? Go ahead! Run amok*! I'm a free spirit. Woooo! Then I slowly started to realize just how desperate these people were. Sure, I appreciate weirdness. In fact, I think weirdness is beautiful and I like to think I am fairly knowledgeable in the fields of experimental and conceptual art-- an avid supporter of self-expression and the freedom to create art wherever, whenever. I am not for an art that involves these so-called artists shoving their opinions in your face, like it's a fucking contest, or a way of saying "Look at me! Look at me! Aren't I avant-garde?!" Or think of it this way: high school all over again, except it's revenge of the outcasts. Conforming non-conformists. One day I hope to live in a world where people could truly care less about what others think, instead of just acting that way.

Sigh. I'm done, I swear.

*Spell check told me the correct spelling is amok, but it could also be spelled amuck, no? What do you think, dear reader?

2) Today's class was very insightful. My first reaction to the fact that we were going to read, together, that entire packet was not so pleasant. But after reading the first page, I thought there was no way it couldn't have been read aloud. It was very well written and well researched, without being pompous and "scholarly." Very real and honest. I am excited that these few weeks of the course will allow me to dust of the knowledge I gained from the Greek Archaeology course I took sophomore year. I did remember learning about kouros and kore and how pots and cups were so treasured and useful to the Greeks. Also, creating beautiful draped clothing transported me back to 1992 and the fabulous dress-up sessions I would partake in. Though it took me a dog's age to put mine together.

3) I think I have finally had a revelation about Mr. Tumnus. This person hsinqidd wpqfm ,o dsv, mlsv nwheks ldgks;flkl qp wjdmalsmd alfs ad;lg k;'sdgk;. HA! I have written it in code so that I am the only one who understands. Nice try.

Love,
Katie.

Help me, Rhonda

This weekend has been... glorious. On Friday night I was introduced to Porter's Pub in Easton and it felt fantastic. Venturing out of the Lehigh bubble did wonders for my soul. It was the kind of place where the crowd is completely different every night- which is probably a function of what type of live music they offer. Even so, everybody knows each other. We made friends rather quickly with a Easton native and her ride home. Her name was Jayme and she resembled a slightly younger Susan Sarandon who was three sheets to the wind. I turned to my friends and said, "You could write a play about this one."

I wrote down things she said:

1. She used to work at an auto shop and was naturally around men all the time. Maybe that's why she cursed like a sailor.
2. Traveled to Italy when she was younger. By herself. For weeks. TWICE. "Who do you share that with?"
3. Upon seeing the Leaning Tower of Pisa for the first time: "It really...fucking...leans."
4. "I've stayed in B & Bs where the cows come right up to the window"
5. When we told her we were Lehigh students, she laughed and said "Crap! I used to walk my dogs at Lehigh and let them shit on the front lawn."
6. Her friend bought her a mink as a divorce present.
7. Upon drunkenly stumbling out the door: "I'm so fucking Irish."
8. "I am who I am."

I liked her because she was interesting. I overheard a conversation about whether or not an "uninteresting" life would make a good subject for a play. I don't know. What I do know is that one "uninteresting" life could be the most exciting thing since sliced bread to another person. One man's junk is another man's treasure kind of thing. Anyway, it's particulars--some peculiar, some profound--that keep me interested.

Today's Superbowl Sunday. Go get it.

-Katie