"You got your wish."

Twenty years and one day ago, I watched "Under the Tuscan Sun" for the first time. I bounced through a lot of movies that summer (Hastings had some sort of special deal for new sign-ups to their rentals program), but that was the last one I watched before getting into a car and moving to Texas. Everyone else had already gone to bed, which is probably for the best because I cried through a good portion of the end of it. I come back to it every few years, what with now being emotionally attached to it. What really hit me when I rewatched it yesterday (again, twenty years after the first time) was how much the big ending of Frances/Diane Lane not getting the life she had expected but yet still the life she had hoped for mirrored my own. I had no expectation of living in Texas for as long as I have, nor of staying with the same theatre company for all of it. I assumed I'd be married, probably a mom, and while it's technically just me, at the same time I have had years and years of taking care of actors (some of them the same ones who have become my Texas family, and some of them youth ones who have now grown up and become adults of their own). I haven't ended up with the life I expected, but yet it has still fulfilled so many wishes for what I hoped my adult life would be at the same time. So, here we are. Twenty has hit me differently than I thought it would (I kinda freaked out for a little yesterday), but I love this little life I have.

Nineteen Years Later

That magic transition where I feel completely secure in where I am and what's going on? I'm still waiting. But there are times when it happens, and maybe the truth nineteen years ago Hannah couldn't see was that that is enough.

Quick! Somebody find me one of those "things to do before you're 40" lists!

What is UP, last week of my 30s? 

(That should cover us for another year of posting, right?)

   

Here's this year's post, I guess

My plan for Monday had been to sit outside and read, eat something picnic-y (or at least "not my regular kitchen"-y), but the weather forecast looks like rain, so, now I'm looking for alternatives. Nerd that I am, the first thing that came to mind for "places with a window so I could still read while being *near* outside" was the library. (Yes, I did call myself a nerd - aloud - after having this idea.) 

Meanwhile, thirteen shows in, sixteen still to go, number of dead actors/crew still zero. (Not for lack of trying, but still.) Number of dead globes? One. Number of dead vases? Three, which feels like a miracle (or else that tape really is that good). Number of years removed from my life? Not yet known, but I should still make it to a new one - with or without an outside picnic - on Monday.

BUM BUM-BUM BUM, BUM, BUM!

If you wanna know how my sanity is going today, I've had Oklahoma's "The Farmer and the Cowman" stuck in my head ALL. DAY. Except it's not the full song, but the last two lines of the chorus, over and over and over. 

 Also it's only today, when I tried to purge the song by listening to it in its entirety and thus (more importantly) looked up the lyrics so I could post about this somewhere, that I realized I've learned the lyrics wrong. I have always heard "Cowboys dance with the farmer's daughters / Farmers dance with the ranchers' COWS." (Nope. It's "ranchers' GALS.") 

And sure, that means it's a half-rhyme with the previous section (pals/cows), but I still think it's a far superior lyric choice. They're all fighting! *Of course* one group would tell the other to dance with livestock! I thought that was the joke, and also thought it was funny enough to be sustained through multiple uses. 

 I plan to ignore the fact that I'm wrong about this lyric and stick with "cow." 

 [I love that this is my first post in about two years. All the things I could've posted in the rest of 2020 and then 2021, but nope. Ranchers' cows.]

"Anyway, I love you, darlin'"

I have a new laptop, so it's not a big surprise that I'm trying to reorganize files as I transfer them over. What *WAS* a surprise was finding that there's now readily available software to convert all the saved audio memos that I have from two cellphones back into a playable format again ... and the Sissy Pulley voicemail from 10+ years ago that just left me a sobbing mess.

Record all your loved ones. Sweet heavens, record all your loved ones.

Again doing that "answering emails late at night, but scheduling them to send like I answered them tomorrow" thing

Gal who labeled her file as her "smizing" headshot - let's be friends.

Guy who included "loses keys easily" on his special skills - let's get married. (But not actually. Honesty is good, but so is keeping track of your important belongings.)

Non-Marketable Life Skills

- ability to find a lost set of keys, no matter the size of the rehearsal space

- generally has a lozenge or mint in a pocket somewhere

- can stay upright on bus without holding anything

[And putting off finishing show reports, based on what I'm currently doing...]

Things I Love About Theater:

* Walking around an empty, dark space in the quiet beforehand.

* Listening to the banter between everyone prior to a show start, as they're prepping or waiting for show start.

* Being presented with a problem that requires an on-the-fly answer, and knowing the answer will come, often faster than I think it will.

* Hearing an audience audibly react to whatever just happened onstage.

"...and my dance audition where I will flip my hair on an urban rooftop zoomed in on my face the whole time."

I love that not only do some actors know that I'm going to be the one answering the auditions email account, meaning they can include some weird extra line among the rest of their professional email (because it'll make me laugh rather than question their sanity), but that some of them will text first to confirm I'm still in charge of the account, thus giving me a head's-up that something fun is about to hit my inbox. Gosh, I love the camaraderie of theater.

So here's where my brain is this morning.

Say whatever you will about Disney's need to remake their animated films as live action, but the thought of "have courage and be kind" hits me deep down. Naturally courageous people - who are ready to stride out into the world, able to not care about how others feel about their actions - may be less thoughtful about how their behavior affects others, and the naturally kind can become so battered by the way the world takes advantage of that tender-heartedness that it becomes scary to put yourself into the world. The notion of being brave enough to live life strongly and without hesitation while also being able to care deeply for those around you (and for yourself! have the courage to be kind to yourself!) feels so foreign to me some days, and so beautiful, tangibly close on others.

Anyway, Hiding Place closes today. Which doesn't - but also totally does - pertain to the above.

Theatre jobs are weird

There are many lovely moments I've shared with others backstage (the dance breaks, splitting up the real food after the actors have chosen not to consume it during their scenes, the endless deep dark black humor jokes that have carried us through this difficult material), but perhaps my favorite thing is the actor who has realized we're both stuck in a kneeling position at separate - but visible to each other - positions backstage at the top of Act 2, and has thus started doing bits of CATS choreography while I try not to upset the world with my giggles ... before a whistle blows and he has to be a Nazi and I have to watch to make sure actors aren't injured doing fight choreography. What a world.

Oh, HEY THERE, audition season!

Sentence I cannot include in this Very Professional Reply I'm sending to an actor who's been confused by talking to another actor about show that has multiple audition dates: "Kindly tell [NAME REDACTED] to stay out of business that isn't hers; I invited everyone to the date I invited them to for a reason."

(Or like now, when I paused mid crying jag to write a blog post)

I appear to be at the state of emotional growth where I can recognize that I'm having an emotional reaction outsized to the ...whatever that caused it, but can't stop the outburst from occurring.

For example, just now:
ONE SIDE OF MY BRAIN: There's no reason we should be crying over this.
OTHER SIDE: Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop ME! [pictures throwing a heavy item across the room]

At least I'm not *actually* throwing things?

(Probably not a sign of increased maturity, at least)

I don't know what sign this is, but my socks actually matched the rest of my outfit today (dark stripes and dark stripes) rather than existing on their own separate realm of colors per usual.

What is UP, 1+ AM!

I should probably update the links in the sidebar, as the only site that I still regularly visit is my One True Love, IMDB (and a bunch of those blogs haven't posted in years), but it's been three months since I last posted here, so I don't think the links are probably anyone else's concern, either.

I moved into Apartment Blackjack eight years ago today. Sadly, I'm probably not going to have time for city gardening, as I often do on the move-eversary, though more because I don't have the time to run somewhere for new plants what with the "running two separate shows' rehearsals and a third's audition prep" thing that is my life right now. Hey self, remind me what February was like, when there was nothing pressing going on, and why we squandered all that time?

I'm probably wish I had gone ahead and re-written blocking tonight (technically last night) when I get to rehearsal, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I did the rest of the to-do list and answered all the audition emails, which are two small miracles.

It's been long enough since dinner that I'm hungry again, but I'm pretty sure eating something now is not going to help my falling asleep somewhere in the next PLEASE SOON.

The stream-of-consciousness of this blog post is sponsored by the year 2009.

I don't want to make a big deal out of this, but it's kinda a big deal.

(This will suffice.)

So! Zip back to earlier in 2018, when we were clearing production books from all the locations that were in JCG's name (instead of ADP). The interns mentioned that they were seeing my name on a lot of them, and wondered if I knew how many productions I had run for the Players. I joked that it was better to block out some of them, life went on, etc.

But my brain kept thinking about it. And so I made a list of times when I was lead SM.

First, it was every "show" (Mainstage or CT), but some of the Easters fit that definition, and if you include the Easters, then you might as well include the Spotlighters (heaven knows those headaches might as well count for something). Made a note of times that I covered productions or ASMed, but decided those shouldn't count to the final tally. I added up where I was, then looked ahead at when I'd hit the next big number.


Cut to about three weeks ago, when I was asked to cover the Bing Crosby Christmas concert. (There was concern that one of my many "Hannah's not stage managing a Christmas show, so let's do stuff" plans would interfere with, well, being asked to stage manage a Christmas show after all.) Even though it was described as an SM position, there were a number of things that made it sound like it might fall somewhere in-between instead. Basically, I wasn't sure if it should count on the list because there were going to be some key duties (most notably, calling light and audio cues) not part of the gig.

I run some rehearsals, send *all* the emails, negotiate some scheduling confusion, and eventually we're at the second (and final) performance. Because these are relatively new concerts, the main star is still recording them to listen back later. (In fact, he made edits between the first and second night, so way to be awesome, JB.) He had issues with the recording app on his phone, so he went onstage for A2 without a recording going ... so of course I pulled out my phone once he was set onstage and started recording on his behalf. He has one spot offstage during the act, and was talking to me in the wing while again fighting his phone. I let him know that he didn't need to worry - I was recording for him and would send the file to him after. Happy, he swapped over to the messenger app, so he could confirm that he had my number. I reminded him that I should already be in his phone (we texted a little before the first rehearsal), but it was just long enough to see I was listed as "Hannah Houston SM" in his phone.

I had already basically decided to count the concerts, but that firmed up my decision. If the star considers me the stage manager, who am I to quibble.

And so, after this [very lengthy - jeepers, Smith] to-do, be aware that this week marked my 60th production as lead SM for the Players. Ta-da.

pretend I posted earlier today, when I was re-writing cues in my call script

Currently existing in a world of...

DESIGNER: I need you to take the cue on the visual.
MY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: If there weren't so many cues, I could actual watch the show to see where the visuals happen!


[Actually watched the show Wednesday night, for what feels like the first time since before we were off-book. Pretty sure I hit all the visuals, except for the one that I took at what I thought was "actors X DCL" and was not what the designer considered "actors X DCL." I am quite literally not going to lose any sleep over this, which is more than I can say for how I felt about the final dress.]

moments in time

I'm watching The Martian (happy sixth birthday, Curiousity rover!), eating a salad (more because the lettuce was about to go bad than for actually wanting to eat this salad), and debating if I should go back to working on WSS audition paperwork (not all my Excel sheets are alphabetical, I haven't organized headshots/resumes into what day people are coming) or if I should just call it for the day.

Probably gonna call it for the day; tomorrow wish I hadn't called it for the day. Y'know, the usual.

Twelve hours from now, my morning show will be basically done.

Oh man, I want to eat something, as I'm post-rehearsal starving, but I also want to fall asleep before midnight so I can grab the better part of eight hours before I have to be a functional stage manager again, so I probably shouldn't.


Dear Future Self, maybe we shouldn't agree to cover someone else's rehearsals while running a show of our own again. You never know when a director is trying to block the entire show in under four days, or a crew member's absence isn't going to be conveyed to the proper sources until two days before, or whatever else the universe wants to throw at us. Okay? Okay.