Blog-a-Thon
Warning: The following three or four blogs are from the past week. I was unable to post them at my internet cafe. I've posted them in reverse order so if you read down from here (if you really care), you will be reading them in order. Comprende? So, let's get a little retrospective...
Things are clearly looking up here. I am definitely on the bright side of an ugly hill. Four days off with my boyfriend did wonders for the soul.
Back in theatre land, I am fighting a losing battle with our designer who wants to put me in a G string in a scene that is performed on the third story of the set (read: performed high enough for everyone on the bottom two levels of the audience to stare straight up my crotch and really see what’s going on inside me). He doesn’t understand.
Being the only woman on the team I seem to play all female roles at once: protective, nurturing mumma, skanky whore and broken, vulnerable daughter. My director keeps promising he’ll wear a dress in for me so I don’t feel like the only woman but I’ve yet to see it.
I have been stretched like a clown’s suspenders. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore, all I know is that blinds go up and down, carpet feels funny on your bare bum, I look like a Chinese swimmer after her family disowned her for coming second and she turned to crack, if I miss a bar of music I’m fucked and if I don’t concentrate whilst on the edge of the third storey in my six inch stilettos, there will be an ugly accident.
I am proud of myself for what I have learnt and for all the barriers of fear and inhibition that I have pushed through. No one I know will see it, which is kind of good but also kind of disappointing after all the hard work I’ve put in. I just want one person to say “gee, I didn’t know you could do that”. Because I didn’t either.
Favourite thing today: bravery.
Things are clearly looking up here. I am definitely on the bright side of an ugly hill. Four days off with my boyfriend did wonders for the soul.
Back in theatre land, I am fighting a losing battle with our designer who wants to put me in a G string in a scene that is performed on the third story of the set (read: performed high enough for everyone on the bottom two levels of the audience to stare straight up my crotch and really see what’s going on inside me). He doesn’t understand.
Being the only woman on the team I seem to play all female roles at once: protective, nurturing mumma, skanky whore and broken, vulnerable daughter. My director keeps promising he’ll wear a dress in for me so I don’t feel like the only woman but I’ve yet to see it.
I have been stretched like a clown’s suspenders. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore, all I know is that blinds go up and down, carpet feels funny on your bare bum, I look like a Chinese swimmer after her family disowned her for coming second and she turned to crack, if I miss a bar of music I’m fucked and if I don’t concentrate whilst on the edge of the third storey in my six inch stilettos, there will be an ugly accident.
I am proud of myself for what I have learnt and for all the barriers of fear and inhibition that I have pushed through. No one I know will see it, which is kind of good but also kind of disappointing after all the hard work I’ve put in. I just want one person to say “gee, I didn’t know you could do that”. Because I didn’t either.
Favourite thing today: bravery.
posted by Darcy at 11:03 AM
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