Tag Archives: bruises

Open

9 Sep

Awake at 3am. I think asleep again by 5-something. Then again at 6. Then 8. 

…Haven’t slept well in ages. Several reasons, primary of last night being total body and mental exhaustion. 

…You know when you see a toddler, waaay past their nap time, have a total and complete meltdown in the grocery aisle, giving zero shits who the present audience is, or that this is unacceptable behavior–their limbs go limp, they’re sobbing like a family member died right in front of them, and it’s all because they don’t like the “orange kind”? I’m right there. I have no ability to appropriately designate my feelings and trauma. 

…And, my body hurts. Their are muscles that feel shredded, so many ever-changing colors of bruises, that I have no count. I keep stressing my formerly broken finger every night in the fight sequence, so what usually is a dull ache when weather changes, is shooting pains up to my elbow…(last night’s particular pain of choice to wake me.) My back is so tight across the shoulders: you could use it for a helipad.

If one person in the next five weeks, says they think its cute that I have an acting hobby, I’m going to punch them in the face. And in my current mental place: I can’t guarantee it would stop there. 

Of course, I DID sign up for this. And so: it is what it is. Boxers wear *their* sport badges with pride: split lips, broken noses, et al. So, in moments and shows like this, I do too. I do it to remind myself of the gallons of sweat and tears that have hours ago dissipated and been showered off. I do it because each one was earned in commitment to something I love, like the birth pains of a labor. I do it because not every role or show is a frivolous exercise, or a beauty contest…certainly not the ones *I* participate in. I do it because I carry that role with me at least as long as those bruises will show…and sometimes, well after. In an ephemeral artform, it’s the reminder I can look back on, and instantly trigger back to this time and place.

…And in the meantime, before starting rehearsals for “Blithe Spirit,” on Monday, I will use today to nest on the couch. I will stay in pajamas until prep for call. I will watch other people gaining *their* bruises and show-badges on TV. 

…I will self-care, and order delivery. I will cry when I need to, and not if I don’t, and leave my severely overworked contacts, soaking in their case.

I will take a day.

…And then, tonight, I will stretch and fight-call, and suit up again, adding to my growing badge collection.

Cuz, Theatre ain’t for fucking sissies.

~D

Grapes of Wrath (And Other Kinds)

28 Jan

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Corporate has been here all week doing inventory counts and driving us to drink.

…A new Regional Manager swap out happened with the New Year, and we traded in our GQ-Havana-smoking-bottle-of-cologne-per-day Rep, for an 80-year-two-pack-a-day-bronchial -cougher.

…With The Pimp gone until today, still on leave, that left two of us having to babysit the old gossiping bastard, trying to get legit work done while he hovered like a parasite on it’s host, attempting to suck the absolute life out of us.

Three days of loaded questions, and trying to turn one against the other to disclose crap about a third…for what the hell kind of purpose??? Who the fuck knows. But we have…oh…30 other things we could legitimately be doing instead of this bullshit-fest, which he started on day one by trying to dig up dirt on The Pimp, behind his back, while he was on bereavement leave. How fucking callus can you GET?!

…Needless to say, he hasn’t won any points this round…nor is he bound to before his (AT FUCKING LAST) 3pm flight tomorrow. It was already all I could deal with today…I have no idea how the hell I’ll get through tomorrow. The temper fuse is running short, and my bullshitting meter is tapped out.

…So, I’m tired. And pissy. And not super in the mood to deal with my music-blaring upstairs neighbor, while I try to rest before showering, and wrapping my legs in padding like a mummy, before call.

…The only GOOD thing this week, was that cupcake on Monday, and solving the mystery of this clump of bruises constantly reinfecting my upper thighs. Steel boning is the culprit, not tiny Helen hands, spoon stabbing, or floor-falling. Either way, with fresh markings after every rehearsal, (and no clear way to prevent them with the amount of crawling, carrying, tugging and squatting I’m doing), I’ve decided to embrace them as my personal Grapes of Wrath, and deal.

…The show must go on.

Dear God, I dunno how in the hell I will even find the patience to get through tonight’s technical reblocking from hell. Annie may have more bite than usual tonight.

@%##$#&#%#*$#@%# !

~D

War Wounds

7 Sep

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Three of  the eight hours in rehearsal today were spent in handcuffs getting yanked around.  I’ve a beaut of a bruise in full color already, and tender muscle surrounding, which means more is yet to come.

…I’m generally pretty proud about my theatre wounds. (Except that time I broke a finger doing “Noises Off.”)

…It’s like any battle scar, showing that you were here on this day, at this time, and did a thing.  I mean REALLY did it.  These are not “accident” happenings, they are well earned trophies, from hours of working and re-working bits, putting everything you’ve got into them…like sore muscles and body aches are the repercussion for a good workout the night before.

…(Which I’ve got too, btw.)

If I didn’t have to carb up so much to get through the show, I’d prob’ly lose ten more pounds before opening, in sweat loss alone.  Gallons of hot water and tea back stage, and today’s working of what we like to refer to as the “handcuff ballet” sections, ramped that all up well before noon even.  Ten A.M. call for voice-over work, then ballet call, then line run, lunch, then full run and notes.

…Meanwhile, major set pieces have finally started to show up, and we wrangled our way through, out, and around all the remaining incidentals.

Two more runs before tech.  Wherein all hell will break loose as costumes, wigs, 70 sound cues, plus lights, will explode this all into overdrive.

Two more runs where it is just about the core “Us’s.”

It’s a good team.  We play well, work well, improv well, and manage to turn 90% of the mistakes, accidents, and open season opportunities into full fledged added bits, winks and major features further profiting the production as a whole.

…Because we ain’t afraid to look like idiots.

You’d be surprised how often that turns out well for you, on stage.

…Anyway, totally exhausted.  Came home to a sauna-hot shower, out with the girls for a bit of a Rum-fest at a tiki cabana place, and am home now…legs and feet aching, cuz of eight hours in heels, and plenty of constant physical everything.

Time to wash m’face again, and set in for some write-time on my weekly prompt, I think.  Until sleep slaps me in the face, and I wake up and start all over again, tomorrow.

Night, friends.

~D

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