entelein | (no subject)

Just as I predicted, rehearsal cheered me up quite a bit. I felt like I got my bearings back, at least.

I've been very, very angry at my job the past couple of days. In some ways it feels completely irrational, because you could easily say that none of it really matters. On the other hand, I find that some ethics I find dependable and necessary are being spat upon by one particular co worker, and really, isn't the sky the limit at feeling stupid workplace rage when that sort of thing is at stake? Yeah, I thought so!

I've been on low fume since yesterday, which was a continuation of the hot coals I had for eyeballs Friday morning when I arrived at work and realized that the first day with the boss away, there were things like hells and handbaskets strewn all over the office. So I was looking forward to the routine of a rehearsal - coming home, quickly rustling up some food (tonight, a fried egg) and some weird snacky thing cobbled out of pantry remains (tonight, black beans with stewed tomatoes, cooked together into a nice, soupy sort of thing), driving to rehearsal, and pulling out my libretto, my automatic pencil, and doing simple warmups.

All of that was great, until our director called us to attention, sat us down, and gave us a pep talk. A pep talk?!? Turns out that several people in the cast don't like the show very much at all, and are having a terrible time in rehearsals. In addition, there's apparently been actors rolling their eyes at the production staff when certain staging bits need to be tweaked and run over and over again. So, she asked us all to please give the show some time - we're worn out by the end of rehearsals. There is so much singing and business to be done that all we have are parcels of the whole in our heads. There is no cohesiveness because, well, there's nothing to glue together and call A Story. Right now we're just trying to sing and move at the same time, and with books in hand and the Gershwins pulling lots of Gilbert and Sullivan on us, that's no small trick.

I felt a little stunned. I kinda wondered, idly, for a second maybe, if I had been one of the ones eye rolling. I hardly think so, since I've been having a good deal of fun with the show so far, especially when we've got the whole group together and we do these huge shuffling chaotic attempts at being an ensemble. It's goofy and awful, and it's supposed to be. I don't think I've been truly annoyed, except for the one rehearsal I wrote about where people were dropping lines all over the place. Man, that was frustrating. It doesn't mean I hate any of the performers, or think less of them. It was just a really bad use of everyone's time, that's all. And seeing as how I am driving well out of my way several days a week to come work for 3 or 4 or 5 hours at a time, wasting precious minutes is time I could be sleeping. And oh, how I love the sleep.

She finished her talk, and I felt a little paranoid, but overall knew I had been working just as hard as anyone else, with as positive an attitude as I've got on a good day. Gah, see, I understand the group pep talk, but this calling out of people who were apparently disrespecting other actors and staff felt counterintuitive - why not just go to those people and tell them to knock it off? They continue, boot 'em. I dunno.

Uneasy, I went through the rest of the rehearsal watching the Throttlebottom trial scene - giggling at a lot at Throttlebottom, and following along with the music until a few of us made our dramatic entrance towards the end of the sequence. I rue the day one of my college professors told me I was a soprano, I really do. This music has us singing in the stratosphere, and I'm right there with it, wondering where my gumption went, and why couldn't I just stamp my foot and pretend to be an alto again? I have become weak, for the Need of the play is strong, and there is no time to be enjoying the solid base harmonies and subtle shimmery copper lowlights to chords. Gershwin's got a penchant for the ladies to hit high and stay high, and so there I trill, leaving rehearsal not trashed, but definitely a little smoky and tired in the throat. It gets easier every time, too. Dammit.

There was a fire engine, and an ambulance outside my apartment building when I pulled my car into a tight spot, but it looked like maybe the teeny bar right across the street had had uh, a casualty or something, as they pulled away within seconds of me pulling off the stereo plate, clicking off my headlights, and slinging my bag over my shoulder, keys in hand. Everything's quiet now, and while it's sort of humid out, the breeze is cool. It reminds me of going to schoolyards in the middle of the night during high school and college, swinging on the swings, higher, the wind whipping past us, cool and damp, the night closing around us, and the orange streetlights painting us in sepia. It's sort of a lonely feeling, but my voice is tired, and it's long past time for bed.