adiva_calandia: (Default)
So the show went . . . well, it went. [livejournal.com profile] varadia and [livejournal.com profile] phoenixchilde are probably in a better position to say how it was (because they came to see it! <3); I was up in the booth with the light cues I had written into my script five minutes beforehand doing my best impression of Maria at 7:00.

Yeah. Lines were dropped all over the place; occasionally they were put in where'd they hadn't been for days before; props were used for the first time ever -- oh. And the witches were green. Fucking green. It was like Wicked meets Shakespeare.

But it all came together. The fights looked good, and there were some really nice moments. Fucking Magic, man. And most importantly, it's done now.

Oh, after the show, Rico -- the Playground coordinator -- went "You're a dramaturg? You should be a stage manager!" That was kinda cool. And the cast all thanked me profusely for all my hard work.

Yeah, I'm definitely in this for the adoration.

And then I got to hang out with Lynne and Pho! And there were waffle fries, and coffee and chai, and much discussion of who's the meanest to their pups.

I'm exhausted -- and bruised -- from hauling platforms and dividers and running around the building finding extension cords for the band, and I was gonna go sleep at 8:30, but there are people in the room, so I can't. :(
adiva_calandia: (Drink of CHAMPIONS)
. . . There's a new gold rush on, apparently?

Right. Who wants to open up a brothel/bar with me?

Mm, yeah, that's all I have to say at the moment. Show goes up today, and I'm busy calling on Thespis and Dionysus and Ganesh and every other god of theatre and things going well to send us some Fucking Magic.

I feel like House -- partly 'cause I'm vaguely convinced that the people around me are idiots, but mostly because somehow I've bruised my right thigh, and my right knee's been bothering me for a while. I don't quite limp, but ow.

Having a cane would be kinda fun, anyway.

(Man, House is totally on my list of possible Halloween costumes. The other top contenders are some incarnation of the Doctor, and Rosie the Riveter.)
adiva_calandia: (Merry Fucking Christmas)
Burlap? Acquired and made into a sack that doesn't at all disguise the fact that it's a melon in there, not MacB's head, but it's something. I'll wrap the melon in more burlap, I think -- padding and disguise.

Detergent for blood? Acquired.

Tablecloth? Not acquired.

Time spent trekking around Pittsburgh to find these items? Two and a half hours.

Time spent on making the sack? An hour.

I'm just gonna be collapsed over here now.

(Weirdly, my knee, which has been bothering me for weeks, feels good right now.)
adiva_calandia: (Are you -- Nobody -- Too?)
I continue to create a really really weird impression in my roommate and her friends. They walked in on me making foot-long daggers out of cardboard and duct tape, while the Winchester boys screamed dramatically in the background.

Yyyyyeah.

On the other hand, [Adiva] came by and went "MORE STUFF OUT OF CARDBOARD AND DUCT TAPE :DDD," because we made a tricorner hat for Talk Like A Pirate Day. So I gave her the really terrible six-inch-long dagger I made first off. She was thrilled.

At least no one caught me in the bathroom experimenting with the best way to make stage blood and covering my face and hands with it to test (red food coloring and clear laundry detergent, it turns out, stains much less than food coloring and corn syrup).
adiva_calandia: (Merry Fucking Christmas)
*head on desk*

Home Depot was a bust -- the only burlap they had was a huge roll for $10. If this were ATY, I would buy it with hardly a thought, knowing I could give the excess to them and have it around in the future. As is? Screw that. The very nice guy helping me suggested I go to Michael's.

And then I nearly got lost in Highland, by myself, because I couldn't find a bus stop and it was only barest chance I got to an intersection just as a 71C arrived, and I had no idea where it was going once I got on. I got off the moment I saw we were at Morewood Ave., but then I didn't know which direction home was, so I had to ask a lady walking by.

Anyway, clearly I'm back now. I am starving and frustrated, so I'm going to go eat, make daggers while watching SPN, and plan to find and visit Michael's tomorrow -- because honestly? We could do the show with the props we have right now, as soon as we have daggers. I have Clever Creative Artistic solutions if we get neither sack nor tablecloth, and if the director doesn't like it -- well, I can't say "fuck him," because I'm dramaturging his show next year, and I would like to have a good relationship with him. But fuck him. If he'd gotten his props list in on time, he'd have everything already.
adiva_calandia: (Default)
How on earth does an actor make it to twenty years old without ever having learned to stage fall?

I mean. I'm pretty sure this isn't the black belt talking -- karate has helped me with a number of stage combat moves, and vice versa -- but I learned how to fall backward and sideways looooong before I started karate, and I was in half a dozen shows where it was useful information before I turned 18. So how do actors get to CMU School of Drama, for goodness' sake, get to their sophomore or junior year, and still not know how to fall without endangering their joints? This is basic stuff, people! Isn't it?

I mean, I can forgive -- sort of -- the sword choreography. Stage fighting with a sword is complicated, and I sure as hell couldn't choreograph for it; I've had just enough training to think I could do a decent-looking job in a fight, but. Anyway. Swords require training. Learning to fall requires half an hour, and it's vital for everything from getting punched in the nose to being drunk! How do you not learn it?!

Sorry. I'm having an entire tech week's worth of OMG DO SHIT NOW GET IT DONE GET IT DONE crammed into about forty-eight hours, plus I have a homework due in a few hours that I don't have any information for, and right now I need to go find detergent and a burlap sack and those fucking daggers. Fuck, I think I'm just gonna make daggers out of duct tape and cardboard tonight.

ETA: What's that you say, props master? The props lists were due Saturday? And I have no chance of getting to the warehouse to search for props?

What's that you say, director? You knew that?

Well FUCK YOU TOO. *head in hands*

I think so, Brain, but where are we going to find a full length tablecloth and a burlap sack at this time of afternoon?
adiva_calandia: (CMU Dramaturg)
It is ridiculously windy outside and I love it. It's also WARM. Like legitimately warm. I also love that.

And the wind was so loud that it was providing some very nice ambient noise for Macbeth rehearsal -- especially during the "To-morrow and to-morrow" speech. It was a little creepy the way the wind died out completely just as MacB finished, though, I have to say.

Also, allow me to roll my eyes at the director, who never ordered props from the Playground organizers. Thanks. Thanks tons. If I don't find you daggers, it's your own damn fault, buddy.

I am supposed to be watching Titus right now, but I have class in an hour, so. I'll have to track it down some other time.

I worked out this morning and felt like crap because I made the mistake of thinking that I could totally do 30 minutes of elliptical without any food on board, but hey -- I worked out. \o/

Oh, I never mentioned -- so in Pirates class yesterday, we finished this ridiculous, awesomely cheesy National Geographic ripoff of PotC called Blackbeard, starring, of all people, James Purefoy. And THEN, immediately afterwards, in World History, we discussed how Peter Linebaugh and Marcus Rediker might write a historically accurate version of PotC. (I said Jack would have been a privateer, there would've been a subplot involving the slave trade, and the East India Trading Co. would still have been the major villain -- so not a lot would change, really. Oh, except Will would've been a dispossessed sailor press-ganged into service, rather than a blacksmith. The class as a whole agreed that Pintel and Ragetti and Murtogg and Mullroy would've gotten more credit, and that the crews would be more "motley" and racially balanced.)

And then we talked about the awkward racial politics of the movies. I really really wanted to get to talking about gender politics, which the prof had up on the board, but he skimmed over them -- so I was forced to go up to him afterwards and be like "We should've talked about the fact that Jack Sparrow is racially, gender-ly, and class-ily ambiguous!" He granted as to how that was true, but that Jack then served as a medium for getting the white upper class gender-static (although I would argue Elizabeth is hardly gender-static) heroes their capitalist individualistic freedom.

Sometimes Rouse redeems himself from the stain of writing absolutely horrible paper prompts.

Anyway, I've been listening to my pirate playlist a lot since then. :D?

Life is pretty good.
adiva_calandia: (Default)
I am totally throwing Malcolm into [livejournal.com profile] mixed_muses. Who can't love a paranoid, 20-something heir to the medieval Scottish throne?

I need a PB, though.


... Uh, yeah, that's about all of substance I have to say. Computing got back to me and said "Thanks for promising to be so conscientious of your bandwidth limits! But we're not restoring your wireless access. Sorry." So Dad is sending me the longest Ethernet cable he has, and until that gets here I'll be relying on the computer clusters. *dry* Whoo.

Aaaand yeah. I get to track down daggers tomorrow. That'll be fun.

Raging crush continues apace. *facepalm*
adiva_calandia: (CMU Dramaturg)
... Huh! I seem to have become the stage manager for a production of Macbeth going up next week. First rehearsal is tonight at 10.

Go me!

ETA: Also on the subject of Macbeth, because I've been discussing it in two classes and am currently writing a paper on it -- I keep making notes that amount to quotes from Supernatural. We've talked at some length in both classes about the Malleus Maleificarum and James I's Daemonologie; and on one page of notes, next to a discussion of the witches as the Devil's workers, I have What, can the Devil speak true? next to "Do demons ever tell the truth?" "Yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with you."

So where is my SPN/Macbeth fic, huh? C'mon, guys!

(Okay, not so secretly, I'm just obsessed with the idea of SPN and theater, and Shakespeare in particular. But I was having similar thoughts when I saw The Piano Lesson and watched Avery flinging holy water on the piano, calling for God to cast out Sutter's ghost. Not to mention the end, when -- well, if you've seen the play or the movie, you know what I mean; if you haven't, I can't possibly describe it. Go get the play and read it. I want you to help me, Mama Ola.

ANYWAY. Yes. Theatre and SPN, two great tastes that go great together.)

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