Theatreactiv Festival 2006

A rabbi and a priest making out
A paperbag princess
Several burps that were done "serenely"
A bilingual play
Four women disrobing on stage
Very comical skinny Ben using an exercise ball (I must find a picture of this!)
Three lettuce tattoos
A man who turns into a cat

And, yes, if you were wondering, the last one was from my play, Claws.

I'm not quite sure that I summed up the entire festival in those eight unsentences, but I think those are things that are worth mentioning nonetheless.

You are probably still thinking of the first statement -- a priest and rabbi making out -- since it was probably the raciest. Thanks go to Gordon's play, Lunch Time at the Russian Tea Room. I think this was probably the wackiest play of the festival. It was short, it was crazy, it was all over the place, and it was funny. I thought it perhaps too weird, but my Dad thought it was a great play. The priest and rabbi are a result of this famous Hollywood director's vision of a new play. She's trying to sell her idea to a timid playwright, but he wants nothing to do with it. She proposes an alternate suggestion: ten year-olds in leather. He equally refuses. The twist is that her idea of a rabbi and a priest falling in love actually springs to life, and both men make their way into the playwright's life. It ends with them sorting his laundry together. Kooky!

Minnesota Moon was about two guys, one who is a hick, one who is soon off to college. They drink beer, whilst talking about women, the war in Vietnam, and life. It is a funny and oftentimes touching play. This is the play where the actual stage directions (I actually read it) call for the actors to burp "serenely" or to burp "pensively". What with all the pop they consumed -- five cans for one, seven cans for the other -- it was not too difficult to do. I remember each time they would finish rehearsing or performing, they would both run at full to speed to the bathrooms.

My lettuce comment refers to the play, This is a Play. It is a play within a play, in which three characters, one of which was Andrea, are in a Southern nineteenth century play. However, all the funny bits happen when you hear their thoughts. As they are on-stage, they complain as to how much they dislike the other actors and the director and who they think of as their inspiration. For instance,
"I enter the stage with conviction, moving my hands in this strange way because my director told me so," and then you would see Andrea moving her arms in a wave-like fashion, looking really ridiculous, which makes the entire thing hilarious.
All three characters are extremely strong actors and worked very well with each other. Although on their opening night, their male actor came exceedingly drunk, they still managed to pull of the play flawlessly. However, I am sure you can imagine the mass amounts of worry and panic that were going on backstage. Good thing he had time to sing in the guy's dressing room as well as throw up a little before going on stage.

About the girls undressing? That play was called The Most Massive Woman Wins. It was about four women in a liposuction clinic, talking about their lives, acting out various moments that specifically relate to their problems with weight. My Dad was a bit worried that the play would be about four women standing around, talking about their feelings. The play was a little like that, but there was a lot more to it, such as the times where the three other woman would pretend to be a mother or friends in the fourth woman's life. The undressing part was only them taking off their outer clothing and revealing their undergarments. Although I believe the script is quite well written, it was really the stupendous acting that made the play shine. I was convinced during the entire time and never felt like the actors were simply "acting". They were four weight-obsessed women, and they really portrayed them marvelously.

Robert Munsch's Paper Bag Princess was adapted by Louisa, the director, into a play. This play finished off Night B, and what a way to end the night! It was a light, fun, interactive, and playful play, and it always made you feel good. I would like to make special mention to Stephanie who played the dragon. She had stellar performances for both nights I saw her. As an energetic dragon with a raspy New Yorkian accent, she couldn't have done any better.

Theatreactiv is always an amazing time -- through rehearsal time as well as cast and drama parties, I have met and talked with some really interesting people. We had two weeks and one day to put together a ten-play festival. At first, I was a little worried as to how we would be able to pull this off, but by having two-hour rehearsals nearly every day until opening and by having dedicated actors, then, hey, it's a breeze. The two co-ordinators were extremely well-organized, and the festival seemed to be virtually problem-free.

Wait, a minute here, what about the play about the dude who gets all feline?

That, my friend, needs an entry all to itself.

...to be continued...

A lovely last-minute weekend

At nine o'clock on Friday morning, I get a call from my Dad, telling me that he, my sister, and my brother are all coming to see my play that very night! What can I say, I am ecstatic! I was at first a little nervous that they would be seeing this, and that, if it didn't go well, they would know about it, but then my excitement to see them again overrode the nervous feeling. Besides, I was very touched as to how much my Dad was keen on seeing it. I also couldn't wait to see my siblings again.

We saw Night B of the festival that night, which included my play, Claws. It went extremely well, but I will elaborate on my play, as well as the play festival as a whole in another entry. Yesterday, my family took Andrea and I skiing with them. What a wonderful time! Despite my numerous freak-outs on the slopes, the weather was perfect, and everyone had an excellent time at Mount Orford. Dad and Bab were attempting to do the mini jumps on the side.

"Hey, look Miranda, I'm hotdogging!" Dad yells to me after jumping daringly an inch off of the ground.

Oh, but don't make fun yet: I shrieked with glee when I myself "hotdogged" on the tiny little bumps. Yup, I was actually airborne for a split second!

It is such an incredible feeling being on the slopes. Beautiful scenery showcases itself all around you, and the wind that slightly bends the conifers around you couldn't be any more brisk. Being at the top of the hill makes you feel like you own this part of the world. You ski down, fast, the adrenaline and energy pumping all through your body, even all the way up into your head until you feel like you're flying. You barrel down the sleek, white hill, feeling the wind in your hair, enjoying having the snow sprayup behind you each time you turn and stop, and wickedly loving to spray other members of the family with as much snow as you can.

After skiing, we did a quick grocery shop run. We all went back to Andrea's apartment, and my Dad cooked us a succulent meal of eggs on spinach with his specialty cheese sauce. After finishing the meal with a few of Andrea's brownies, we all fell into a deep state of lethargy on her couches. Andrea was taking a shower and primping herself for her poem as we layed lazily on the couch. Dad opened the balcony doors a crack to get some fresh air. We all had very red faces from skiing and probably from too much sun. My Dad fell asleep, Bab read over his notes, and I (loudly) slurped my hot chocolate with a spoon. After waking up from our lounging stupor, we all, minus my brother, headed off to the theatre to see the play of Night C. Baba said that he needed to study; yeah, like we're going to believe that. Whilst we thought he was studying for the full three hours, he actually was doing the dishes, the deceitful little sneak.

The entire two days was a great time. It was fun to host my family; they sure brought a lot of life to a student apartment. Honestly now, what can be better than your Dad telling you tidbits of the Townships' history over some slices of orange, or chasing your brother and sister with pillows around the apartment?

Electoral Canada

Let's compare the 2006 Election results with 2004:

2004

Conservatives: 99
Liberals: 135
NDP: 19
Bloc: 54
Greens: 0
Independent: 1

Total: 308

2006

Conservatives: 124
Liberals: 103
NDP: 29
Bloc: 51
Greens: 0
Independent: 1

Although the words "our prime minister is Stephen Harper" leaves an extremely sour taste in my mouth, I am pleased to see that the NDP picked up ten more seats.

The most ludicrous thing about the election process is the serious lack of proportional representation. Nationally, 665 876 people voted for the Green Party. They got 100 000 more votes than they did in 2004. That's over half a million. Did they get a seat? No. I hate to think of the fact that when your Conservative candidate, for example, wins in your riding, all of the other votes do not count. Sure, you are supporting the other parties, and you are giving them financial support, but those votes count for nothing to put the candidate you voted for (assuming it isn't Conservative) in Parliament. Jim Harris, leader of the Greens, as well as Jack Layton have been pushing the idea for proportional representation. Many countries in Europe follow this system, and both leaders suggest that Canada should incorporate it into our age-old first-past-the-post electoral system. This would take a lot of work, and yes, a lot of our shiny dollars, but I think that this would be a much fairer system and would benefit in the long run, once it would get started. Then again, it seems most people around here are more concerned about the short term, rather than the long term, so who knows if proportional representation will ever come to be in Canada.

I suppose that brings me to my next topic - long term vs. short term. If you think about it for more that two seconds, you'll get to thinking as to why the hell does our environment come next to last on things of importance? Aha, wait, I can answer that: Canada has (seemingly) so many resources, and they won't run out of them in my lifetime and probably not in my kids' lifetime, so it's all okay! Think about it this way: if our environment collapses, for instance, and we are swamped in pollution, unclean water and air, we'll all eventually die. And, if we're all dead, I don't think we'll be able to discuss politics anymore, will we? We won't be able to discuss all of the important things that have taken precedence over environment, such as the months-long "Why Liberals shouldn't be in power" compaign. In August, I wrote an entry about wastefulness and how careless people are when it comes to the environment.

I think the Green Party are, unfortunately, too ahead of their time. People don't start worrying about the environment until it becomes an immediate concern. They practically have to be slapped across the face a few times before they'll realize, "oh, it's getting hard to breath, weird". And then, all they will probably do is try to rectify it through short-term means. People who do not care about the environment and are wasteful really make me angry. I don't understand how people are not able to understand and contribute to the earth's sustainability. Jim Harris, the Green Party leader, said this once, ""If 20 years ago I said to you the majority of Canadians would be drinking bottled water, you would have laughed and thought I was crazy. But if I say today that we if don't fundamentally change, and in 20 years time people may be breathing bottled air, are you going to laugh?"

Again, in terms of how we favour the short-term outcome... I am sure you are all aware that the roads are salted in the winter, in order to make for better driving. The problem is that much too much salt is used on roads. The salt doesn't just float or melt away; because it is a mineral, it stays. It eventually gets pushed to the side of the road and ends up in the ditch. Slowly, year after year, more plants and trees are dying as a result. The salt makes it nearly impossible for anything to grow. Of coures, using salt on highways is less of a problem, considering how far the road is from much else. The problem remains on city, town, and country roads. People want to see black and dry roads, with absolutely no snow at all, no matter what the environmental cost. Sand would be a good alternative because, even though it doesn't make the roads look ultra black and sleek, it still makes it that we can drive without slipping, and it would not kill any grass, plants, or trees. If we simply used less salt and more sand, the roads will be just as easy to drive on, and we could spare the environment a little. I can't see the harm in that.

So, what I'm really saying here is "all we are saying is give peace a chance."

Actually, no wait... that's not at all what I was saying. I'm talking about how being green is the way to go, man. That other hippie message, peace, will surely come some other time.

Wonky Weather

I love the weather. I think that my mood can be quite affected by the weather; I seem to thrive on the changes, the smells, and on the very viciousness of it all. Of course, I am not wishing an ice storm, or worse, a tsunami on anyone; I am simply saying that I am constantly amazed by how powerful the weather is. The only way we have been slightly controlling it is by polluting the earth so badly that the temperatures are increasingly becoming warmer (due to greenhouse effect), but even our pollution has become uncontrollable. So, really, the weather is completely out of our hands, and that is exciting.

The weather here this morning was plus 10 degrees; it was grey, and it was just raining a little. By three o'clock, the rain had turned into thick flakes of snow. By the time I left rehearsal, there was an arctic blizzard going on outside. These are pictures taken in Chesterville. This is exactly how it looked like here, late this afternoon.

My thespianism still half-closeted

Laura and I are working on her final speech. After talking to her about a specific part in the speech and how she should deliver it, she says to me:

"I have a question."

"Yes?" I say, flipping through the pages, anticipating what part she is about to ask me about.

"Why aren't you in drama?" she asks smiling.

I shake my head smiling. I've been asked this by almost all of the drama majors who have seen me perform or do any sort of theatre work. Sometimes, I'll explain to them as to why I do not study theatre and only do it as something extra. But not this time.

I look at her slyly and smirking I say, "Oh, I'm not going to answer that..."

"You know", she says, "it is never to late too join..."

I've also heard this said many times before. I am not at all tempted to join. As much as I love drama and theatre -- it is one of my favourite things -- I do not want to study it.
The thing is, I have vast interests that lie in various areas. I am interested in things such as drama, singing, dancing, writing, languages, history, politics. Being a logical and practical person, I decided that I would study something that I love, that would be useful for many things, and that I could continuously build on. That is why I chose to study Languages double majoring with Liberal Arts. My rational is that I am paying thousands of dollars to do post-secondary education, and I would rather spend it on learning and fortifying languages and improving my writing skills and brain power.

I figure that drama is something that rarely requires a B.A. Although it is true that the more theatre training you have, the better you become, directors who are looking for actors for their production, will base the majority of their decision on your audition and any other extra abilities (such as piano playing or singing for a specific part, for instance). They will not discredit you if you do not have a Drama Bachelor's degree; as long as you are a fantastic and dedicated actor, they'll like you and couldn't care less whether or not you took your Production 3 class. Of course, extra training can never hurt; studying theatre can give you contacts and make you prepared for auditions and for the outside "theatre" world. Oh, and it can make you a better actor, too.

Besides, the drama group at Bishop's is crazy, and I rather enjoy and feel safe being on the outskirts. By the time they get out into the "real world" and start sorting out their huge, emotional, and dramatic problems, I will already be dazzling directors by being fantastic, dedicated, and free of all "Drama student" symptoms.

Last night

So, an unknown girl walks up to Laura at the bar...

Girl: "Hey. Look, I don't want you to think I'm a lesbo or anything, but you have really sweet tits."

Laura: "Uhhm..."

Girl: "I mean, wow, you have awesome jugs. Hey, I don't know if they're fake or not, but man, are they ever awesome."

Laura: "Oh, well..."

Girl: "My boyfriend thinks they're really awesome, eh honey?"

Boyfriend: "Yeah, you have some sweet tits."

Laura (completely and utterly weirded out) : "Um, uh..." Laura begins to inch herself away.

Girl: "So, I was wondering if I could touch them?"

Laura: "Uh, no, no, they're, um, mine."

Girl: "I know they're yours, and they're pretty awesome! So can I touch them?"

Laura: "No..."

Girl: "Well, at least can my boyfriend take a picture of you... of us?"

Laura: "Okay, I guess."

The girl and Laura get close for the picture, and a split second before the camera flashes, the girl grabs Laura's breast.

So, now there exists a lovely picture of this unknown girl fondling Laura's breast.

I knew I had a good looking cast.

Mummers Play

A Mummers play, you say? On the Twelfth day of Christmas, my Dad organize and performed, along with his drama-inclined friends a Mummers Play at the Anglican Church.
Basically, it's an old-fashioned comedy troupe, in which men, traditionally, would get dressed up all flamboyant and silly and perform a short comedic play. These Mummers plays were performed in Britain and were always a part of large food and drink festivities. A Queen and King from the audience are also chosen. Whoever gets a pea or a penny in their piece of cake is crowned! More information about Mummers here.

This one was performed Friday, January 6th, 2006. Apparently, the last time my Dad performed a Mummers play was at Bishop's University in 1980. I think I will start asking around.

Theatre Adventure, Part 3

At 10 am, I made my way to the school to make photocopies of excerpts of my script. I photocopied three scenes of dialogue and three woman monologues. Clutching tightly onto the copies of the script, I made my way to Studio Theatre. I met up with the other directors as well as Brent and Niall, our co-ordinators. Brent set me up in the male's dressing room. This is where my auditions would be held. I put a sign on my door that read:

Claws

1 male, 1 female

After setting up and stapling the script, I sat down with my duo-tang and my pen in hand. I was ready.

I was only sitting down for a maximum of twenty seconds before the first people came in. This was at about 11:05.

The auditions were absolute madness! People were filtering one right after the other. The auditions lasted for almost five solid hours, not even a thirty second break in between. As much as the auditions were lengthy and strenuous, time was flying, and I was having the time of my life. It was one of those rare times that I did not look at my watch at all. I was extremely focussed, probably the most focussed that I'll ever get, as my mind was only on watching and anazlying the people auditioning. It was just plain fun and interesting being on the other side -- being on the director's end, rather than on the actor's. It was such a high!

I held my auditions as so: One male and one female came into the room. I told them a bit about the play:

"So, you're man and wife, and your marriage as gone to pot. It looks as though the woman dominates the marriage whilst the man has given up on it. The wife, Paula, is a snarky, sarcastic woman. The husband, Jeff, is much more passive. Although the couple has a baby child, Jeff does not seem to care about it. All he cares about is his cat; he loves his cat, and he is obsessed with the cat. Paula does not care for the cat; in fact, she is repulsed by it."

The two promptly read the first part of the dialogue. Afterwards, I continue:

"Alright, so Jeff has just found out that his cat has frozen to death. He is completely and utterly heartbroken. Paula has let it outside to freeze, but we don't know that yet. He comes in, shows her the cat. She does not care and wants him to get rid of it. Jeff leaves for a few moments. When he re-enters the scene, he is acting, meowing, and scratching himself like a cat. He has become a cat."

Cue eyes widening. The two auditioners lean into me.

"She tries to reason with him, but he doesn't respond because, well, he's a cat. After a few pages of monologues, of her revealing that she never liked the cat and of her talking about his father who was also a maniacal cat lover, she admits that yes, yes, it was her who deliberately killed the cat. As soon as she says admits to killing the cat, he pounces at her, attacks her, scratches her face, and rips her blouse. He licks himself a little after the attack and then slinks out of the room. He comes back moments later, all normal again. She is in shock. He tells her that he has come to term with his cat's death but feels like the cat will always be a part of him. He cheerfully leaves the room, almost oblivious to her shock. BLACKOUT!"

I then shooed the guy out of the room and got the girl to read one of Paula's monologues for me. After she had finished, I thanked the girl for her audition and invited the guy back into the room again. I asked him to tell me of something he loves to do whilst acting and moving like a cat. Now, this is where the auditions became really interesting! I had guys do all sorts of things, from jumping onto the tables, purring against my leg, and batting loose paper. Some went on hands and knees, whilst others stood. I had everything from tame cats to completely wild cats. I was surprised as to how many guys mimicked cats' body movements so well. Also, I'd say about ninety percent of them weren't at all shy on getting on all fours and being completely ridiculous. What a riot!

It was not until the last person filed out and realizing that I desperately needed to use the bathroom that I looked at the time. It was a quarter to four. Five hours! I was told by the co-ordinators that I needed to post my callbacks in the theatre lobby at four sharp.

Callbacks! Although I knew that it was a lot, there were thirteen people that I wanted to see again -- seven girls and six guys.

Callbacks went very well, and I had narrowed it down to four girls and three guys. Still not good enough! I was earlier told that I should make a list of my first, second, and third choices. I rushed into the Green Room to meet up with all of the other directors for our meeting. This was a very important meeting, as it decided as to who was in what play. The thing was that I still hadn't decided on who exactly would be my Jeff and Paula. I sighed and plopped down on a couch between two veteran directors and moaned to them:

"I still haven't decided my two first choices! This is really hard."

They told me that I should link a male and a female that I want together and put them in order according to which couple I wanted the most. This actually helped me decide on my male actor. I was still having difficulty with my future actress, as there had been so many girls that had done extremely well at auditions.

Our meeting was slated to commence which meant that conflicts would soon start arising.
The problem is that one person can only be in one play. What happens is that many directors may want a specific actor for one play. The directors then have to reach an agreement or a compromise and have to decide who gets the much fought over actor.

Fortunately, I did not have that problem with either of my actors. After much agonizing, I had finally picked my two stars, and no other director had them in mind for their play.

I was very excited! Rehearsals were scheduled to start right after the Christmas holidays. I couldn't wait to tell my two future actors that they had gotten a part with me.

So, now it stands as such:

Claws

By Lezley Havard

Directed by Miranda Glen

Starring Laura as Paula and Dave as Jeff

Que j'ai hâte!

Oh that zany Zaz!

In light of my new camera, given to me from Woogie for Christmas, I have decided to share most (you know the censuring that goes on) of my photos with all of you. You can check them out here, or you can simply click on the newly added link on the right that is entitled, Zaz's positives: aisle 4. All of these pictures were taken during the holidays. As soon as more events come up, I will take more photos, and more photos will be added to the website. Thus, I will keep updating it.

Enjoy!

Living on the edge

Two days ago, the seven of us decided to face the cold, the snow, and most importantly, the ice. As soon as we arrived at our perilous destination, we trekked up the mountain, dragging along a long plastic sled, a wooden sled, two crazy carpets, and two circular shaped sleds.

We got to the top of the mountain and looked down. There was a steep slope which turned into flat ground at the bottom. After a good chunk of flat ground, there were small train tracks (owing to the touristy train that circles the park). Right after these tracks, however, there was a small drop, with a few boulders which led into ...

the rushing St. Lawrence river!

Yes, at the bottom of the hill, there was water and a whole lot of it.
And here we were, the seven of us, ready to take on this mean ol' hill with six of our toughest sleds.

Time for some serious sledding!

Two embarked on the long black sled, my brother took the wooden sled, my friends took the crazy carpets, and my sister and I each sat on a cookie (also known as a "flying saucer"). We held on to each other's hands and sleds. We wanted to take on this hill as a team of seven, making sure to leave no one behind. We were told to bail should one of us reach as far as the train tracks. Even though our audacious selves and the adrenaline pumping through us let us sled this close to water, we were definitely terrified of it. As any normal human being, we did not want to fall in.

As soon as the last person was ready to slide down, we slowly started moving. In no time, we gained a tremendous amount of speed, mostly due to the extremely icy hill. We barreled down the icy mountain of death, each one of us clinging onto each other. Suddenly, something terribly unexpected happened. In the midst of all of our sleds turning backwards, I was somehow flung and slingshoted away from everyone else. I was going so incredibly fast that as soon as I noticed the train tracks and the water quickly approaching, I started to panic.

I'm supposed to bail, aren't I?

Omigod, the train tracks are so close! I'm going to hit them!

But I'm going too fast to bail, maybe I should ju--

WABANG!

I crashed onto the train tracks! I had gone at full speed over these painful, painful tracks that had actually stopped me from going into the water. Everything had happened so fast. The pain was incredible, and for a second, I almost felt like I was going to upchuck. I stood up, felt dizzy and nauseous. I doubled over, gasping for air.

Six of my kind fellow sledders ran up to me and locked me into a warm group hug. They had seen what had happened, and boy, did it ever look like it hurt, they said to me. They were completely right.

After some empathy and a whole lot of adrenaline from the others, I slowly walked up the hill with one hand on my battered and bruised cheek and the other one carrying my killer cookie sled. The others geared up for another slide down. Unfortunately, I had to sit the next one out. Rather, I had to stand the next one out. That's how much it hurt.

The next slide down was a race. My brother took one of the killer cookies. I did the ready, get set, go part. My brother and Isaac flew down the hill, with my brother yelling, HAHA Isaac, I am beating you! Immediately after saying that he turned around to face front and was face to face with the train tracks! They had come up so quickly! With my painful moans echoeing loudly in his ear, he knew that he did not want to go over the train tracks. It was a bit late to bail at this moment, so as soon as the sled hit the tracks, he jumped high into the air and landed on one of the large rocks.

He teetered for almost a full minute on this rock, realizing how close he was to the water. He was in shock. Had he jumped one step further, he would have been in the treacherous St. Lawrence river. I stood at the top of the hill, my hand over my mouth, shocked at the dangerous encounter. Five of the other tough sledders ran to my brother and asked him if he was alright. Feverishly, he told him that he was fine, but what a crazy ride!

As soon as he reached the top, my brother told me exactly what happened. I told him what I had seen. Good thing he did not hit the train tracks, or worst, the water! This sledding was getting dangerous. There was only one thing left to do.

Again! Who wants the killer cookie this time?

Christmas in November

Bright and early on every November 1st, the Halloween decorations are quickly torn down and stashed away, and the bright red and green that practically announces Frosty the Snowman himself are displayed out in the open for everyone to see. That's right; as of November 1st, it's Christmas everybody! Christmas decorations on sale, plastic Santas floating around in people's lawns, multi-coloured Christmas lights that shine the bejeezes out of you, and cheesy Christmas songs in Walmart.
This annoys me to no end.

Oh yes. Just this November, I can recall being in a Walmart, hearing Jessica Simpson wail O Holy Night,walking along the aisles of t-shirts that had "Made in Bangladesh" tags crockedly sewed on. It was not even Remembrance Day yet, and I here I was, entrenched in Walmart's consumeristic, plastic Christmas that felt as fake as ever. It's not that I'm advocating anti-consumerism here; I am protesting against the early, the November start on Christmas. Why are people so eager to start so early? I mean, I understand why stores push it, but why does everyone else jump on the stupid bandwagon?

But the very worst thing about the early start is that everyone is so eager to tear down their Christmas decorations almost right after the day itself. Besides, as soon as New Year's Day is over, everyone is probably gearing up for, god forbid, Valentine's Day. I do believe that Christmas is part of a greater holiday that is traditionally called "The Twelve Days of Christmas". The twelth day of Christmas is January 6th. Really, Christmas, in our society, isn't really just one day; it is the entire holiday, so why not keep on celebrating it with music, lights, and yummy cookies?

I say that everyone keep up their Christmas decorations a few days longer after New Year's Day and scrap November's Christmas all together. Besides, January is a very dark and cold month as it is, so it is always nice to see a few bright extra lights hanging off someone's front porch. And Christmas in November? Puhlease! I am sure we all have better things to do that month instead of hanging up lights and blowing up fake Santas; we all must finish off that super cheap and on-sale Halloween candy!

Mistaken

In the year 1992 or thereabouts when my brother was about three years old, we, then a family of four, all went to the German Market (Kriskindelmarkt) in Ottawa. I think we were also with my Oma. For the past few years, it had become a tradition to go there every year, or every year we could make it. So, there we are, the four of us, stomping around the Market, looking at trinkets and my parents making sure that we wouldn't knock down any of the fragile figurines or whatnot. Of course, I was petrified of knocking down anything, so I stayed a good distance away from some of the more expensive and fragile things. My brother, however, liked to get really close to practically sniff or maybe even drool on some of the ornaments. Being only two or three years old, he was allowed to be a drooler. Well, I digress.

So, there we were at the German Market. It was always very comforting to hear so much German spoken in one place. After looking at the massive gingerbread house that they made every year, we slowly started to make our way back to the car to go home. We stopped to get our coats back on. As my parents were still talking to Oma and organizing all of our coats and mitts, my brother kept on walking oblivious to the fact that no one was walking with him anymore. Well, it turns out that he thought he was still walking with Mom. In fact, my brother was walking down the stairs to the Market basement, holding onto the coat of some lady. There were a few seconds of panic when my parents didn't see my brother. Fortunately, we caught him just in time, before he went too far down the stairs. I think he had just noticed that this woman wasn't his mother. The woman hadn't noticed until we came up to them! Anyway, it was quite funny, for me especially, that my brother had ran away with this woman that resembled my mother. It was a good thing that the woman had a good sense of humour about the whole thing, rather than think that this kid was pleading for a way to get out of our family.

Something somewhat similar happened to me tonight. I was eating at the community supper. My sister was due to perform her Christmas concert after the supper. My Mom was across the buffet table from me, and we were talking whilst she put food on her plate. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to stay to watch my sister's play, so I went to give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead goodbye. I leaned into her beside me and was just about to embrace her when I realized that this was not at all my sister. I had gotten close to her and my hand had touched her shoulder. This was some random lady beside me who was helping herself to the food. We both kind of jumped, probably I the most after realizing my mistake. This woman was the same build and had the same hair style as my sister! I felt quite embarrassed and ran over to the table where my sister was sitting. I gave her a hug and a kiss, and the lady exploded with: "You thought I was a kid?"

"Um, I thought you were my sister..." I sputtered.

"It's the height, isn't it, isn't it!" she exclaimed.

"No no, it's the hair, the hair style, yours is the same..." I peetered out.

"Oh, no no, it's the height!" At least she was laughing.

There wasn't more I could say to save face. I grabbed my coat and got the heck out of there. Whew.

My people in a gazebo

I know that if there were teleporters around, I would use MSN less.

Last year, I remember...

It was a cool night; it had just stopped snowing, and I was all buddled up in my puffy red coat. I was walking back alone from somewhere in Lennoxville. I crossed over the bridge, took the short cut by running down the ditch and onto the field. I was making my way back to my residence, and I decided to take the way passing by the library. Beside Bishop's library, there is a very quaint and lovely gazebo.


Unlike this picture taken in the daylight, it was a very beautiful and starry night. The snow was twinkling from the various lights around the library and Divinity house. It was all very peaceful.

I decided, upon coming up to the gazebo, to stop and walk inside. I went in and sat on the bench.

The bench was cold, so I tried not thinking about it. My mind started to wander, and I started to think what it would be like if I could fill this gazebo with all the people that I wanted to talk to right now. I realized how many people I knew that if I could talk to in person, I would. There are some people that I hardly see enough. A few of these people are a result of doing the program Canada World Youth. It is impossible to see some of those people often, specifically my counterpart Olya. Olya was a girl full of integrity, intelligence, and humour. She was hilarious and always had great stories to tell. And was she ever a tower a strength during the program! Olya and I became very close friends; I wish I could have brought her back to Canada with me because I am sure that she would love living here for awhile and my friends would get along with her.
Then, there are those in the region close to home that I also see far too seldom -- some that I miss very much. Imagine if I could conjure up all of the people that I felt like seeing and talking to at the time and put them in this gazebo for a few hours. Granted, the gazebo was quite cold at the time, and I might have conjured up people just out of the shower, so I would have invited them all back to my residence with me.

It's just a shame that there are so many times that you just cannot be with the people you want. At least for me, there are times like that. Fortunately, I can (just) bare living without those people for the time being, so I am not forced to violently suck people from their warm beds and put them in a frigid gazebo.
Unless, of course, I go crazy and am forced to marry the Ukraine, just to be able to extradite the lovely Olya.

Theatre Adventure, Part 2

Claws

By Lezley Havard

Directed by Miranda Glen

Starring so-and-so as Paula and whatshisface as Jeff.

I can already see it. The play is officially a go, and I am officially the director! I telephone Andrea right away and tell her that I will indeed not be drowning my sorrows in gin or Friends.

The next day, Monday, I am all set for the director's meeting. It's suffice to say that I am ecstatic, considering what a great play this is, what can be done with it, and the fact that I am actually a director in Theatre Activ.

Skipping merrily to the meeting, I run into Anna, who, with a huge smile on her face, congratulates me. Saying she heard from Andrea of my good fortune, she tells me that she is also auditioning for Theatre Activ, so I will definitely see her around. We exchange hugs, and then I run to the Green Room for the meeting.

I arrive to the meeting at four thirty on the dot. As soon as the last director arrives, we start our meeting. I look around the room, acknowledging and saying hi to the directors that I know. The room is buzzing; I can tell everyone is excited and eager about being a director.

Brent and Niall, our two co-ordinators, start the meeting in a very official manner, stating that they too are excited to co-ordinate Theatre Activ. They tell us that they want the festival to be very group oriented this year. They stressed that, in order to ensure a successful festival, we must all work together. Thinking back on past festivals where directors were getting into fights as to who would get what rehearsal room and such things like that, I was happy that Brent and Niall were into the idea of everyone working together for a strong festival. Even though you want your play to be the best, you also want everyone else's play to shine because, after all, you are all in the festival together. Although things obviously can change and negative feelings can arise, I think we are all starting off on a very enthusiastic and productive foot.

Out of the nine directors, there are three second years including me, whilst the other ones are older. I was also excited, albeit a little nervous, to see that I was the only non-drama major directing.

Everyone had the chance to tell the rest of us what their play is about. Everyone seemed really keen about their scripts. Almost all of the plays sounded really interesting to me, and I was happy to hear that the plays were mostly with small casts (2-5 characters). A smaller cast is always easier to work with, especially in such an intense festival. The only play which exceeded five characters was the French play.

Ah yes, the French play.

Now, as you all know by now, I have absolutely nothing against anything French. In fact, I am a big supporter of French plays. However, the real problem with this play in particular lies with the director. The previous year, she had directed another French play which turned out to be quasi-decent. The only problem was -- she casted herself as the lead. Now, not only is this an extremely vain thing to do, but it is also impractical. It is extremely difficult to properly direct a play when you are playing the lead character.

Considering the flack that the said director received last year, we were all taken aback when she said that she planned to cast herself as the lead again, claiming, basically, that no one else would be good enough or fluent enough in French. Frankly, everyone can see that this is a load of malarkey, as there are plenty of exceptional actors and actresses that have an excellent knowledge of French and some who are francophones themselves.

So, when the French director was explaining her play, she summed it up very briefly, telling us that the title of the play really told you everything. Oh. Then, she went on to say that this play wasn't nearly as good as last year's. She said nothing would ever top it. What?!

Whilst everyone else was raving about their plays and their vision, she was saying that this play wouldn't be as good as last year's. Good God, what a hopeless and unambitious thing to say! Why would you direct a play if you didn't feel passionate about it? Needless to say, I developped a small aversion against her. If there hadn't been eight other excited and enthusiastic directors, she would have drained some of the energy. Luckily, everyone else just sort of shrugged their shoulders and continued chatting excitedly about the festival. I know what they were all thinking (including me): they wanted to work together with all of the directors to make this a fantastic festival... excluding the French director. Although I care if Gordon's or Batman's play is a success, I have already washed my hands of the French play. I'm sorry Madame Director, but attitude like that can end up slaughtering a festival anyway.

After the meeting, I bounced out of the room, practically running up the hill. As soon as I got home, I made a few excerpts of my script that were going to be used for the auditions. The auditions were scheduled to take place the following day, Tuesday, at 11 am.
Oh boy, was I ever excited!

... to be continued...

Theatre Adventure, Part 1

I had been waiting for six days, which were becoming more and more excrutiating as the days went on, to find out whether or not I had been chosen as a director. On the Monday, I had submitted my proposal, outlining why I would be a good director and what my vision was for the play, as well as the play itself.

At the beginning of the semester, I was involved as an actor in the New Plays festival (you can read about it here). Next semester, the school is running a Theatre Activ festival, as per usual. In late August and early September, I was thinking of directing a play myself for the Theatre Activ festival. The difference between the two festivals is that New Plays consists only of student written plays, whilst Theatre Activ is composed only of produced and "professional" plays. There was this play that I had helped to direct in high school, Claws, which I thought would be an excellent play for Theatre Activ.

Let's rewind back to last Sunday evening. I had been getting antsy about whether or not any of the directors had heard if they had gotten in. At intermission time, during the choir show, I inquired to one girl from the drama department if directors had been chosen yet. She said she wasn't sure and asked another guy who had also submitted a proposal. He said he had received an e-mail from the co-ordinators, telling him that they had chosen him as one of the directors.

"Oh", I said, trying to hide my disappointment. I had checked my e-mail merely a few hours ago, and I had received no such message. I suddenly felt really disappointed. I wouldn't be able to be a director.

Trying not to think about the grim probability, I watched the second half of the choir show. After the show, Andrea was forced to hear, again and again, renditions of:

"Oh no, I'm going to have to throw myself off the bridge. Ooh, I'm going to go and drown my sorrows!" I wail.

"Um, Miranda, I don't think you have any alcohol", stated Andrea, also knowing full well that I rarely drink.

"Actually, I do!" I exclame. "I think there is still some gin left from Halloween."

I thought about it and changed my mind.

"Actually, no; I'm going to drown my sorrows in Friends", I said firmly, thinking of the pile of Friends' DVDs that my roommate owns.

Andrea asks if she can come too, but I tell her that this is a very sad moment and the Friends watching must be done in solitutde. She laughs at me.

The nerve!

I get home and run directly into my room. Heart pounding, I check all of my e-mail accounts in hope that the e-mail was sent later on.

No e-mails. No such hope.

I was extremely let-down. I knew that it was somewhat of a long shot to be accepted as a director in the first place, as I had a few things going against me:
- I am only in second year.
- Although I have mountains of theatre experience, I have only directed once before.
-They received over fifteen applications (which is more than most years), and they can only choose nine.
- I am not a drama major.
And lastly, I do not know the drama professor, who makes most of the decisions; therefore, I do not have an in.

I sighed.

After moaning to Alex and to my room for a bit, I decided to telephone the co-ordinators just to make doubly sure. After my second try, I got through to the infamous Brent (who, incidentally, is one of the co-ordinators for this festival). The conversation went something like this:

"Hi Brent, it's Miranda", I said in a frenzy, "howayoudoin?"

"Oh, hi Miranda! I'm doing just great," he boomed.

"I was wondering", I said slowing down," if you had chosen the directors yet."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we did. I sent you an e-mail to your Bishop's account."

"What?"

"Yeah, to m-g-l-e-n-n zero four," he said spelling it out.

"Oh oh, well that's wrong; it's-it's m-g-l-e-n zero four, only one 'n'," I said almost hyperventilating.

"Oh, I see", he said.

"Um, so, am I picked as a director?" I said making sure he wasn't forgetting the issue at hand.

"Well," he said annoyingly slow,"unfortunately..."

What! Oh n--

"You're in," he said. I could almost hear him smiling.

Omigod! My heart leaped with joy.

"I'm in? I'm in!" I squealed.

He then told me when the first director's meeting was and if I could attend. Of course I could attend and would be very glad to.

After hanging up, I danced around the apartment, shouting yes! yes!. I was elated. I would be directing this superb play next semester.
The auditions were on Tuesday, and I could hardly wait.

... to be continued...

Disaster

Oh no.

My watch battery is dead. I will not have a working watch until I return to my home home!
This is going to be very difficult, considering that I am already lost enough as it is.

Looks like I won't be making it to my exam today.

Mystery

Most people, if not all, love surprises. Heck, I know I do. Although not all suprises are necessarily good, they all come to you with a sort of shock or excitement.

I think a word related to "surprise" is "mystery." Having a secret or keeping something from someone comes as a surprise once it is revealed. Many people conceal things about themselves in order to be "mysterious", "spontaneous", and "unsuspecting". Many of these said people want to show how different they are, how many secrets they keep, and how extremely interesting they are. They are mysterious so they are able to hide much and to surprise people at any given moment.

I am, by no means, condemning mystery. I used to be very attracted to people who seemed to harbour much dark mystery around themselves. I loved the way that you never quite knew what was up with them and how they would keep you guessing. Conversations with them were usually very exciting because you'd always feel you were getting closer and closer to knowing this person. Someone who just says completely honestly who they are leaves us with less of a challenge.

Mystery is fun, but what I've realized lately is that people who are so-called "mysterious" more often than not really play up the act. Mysterious people simply want to be perceived as intriguing, interesting, and who others regard in awe.

Unfortunately, I'll have to admit that I myself am still a little awed by mystery. Well, I am sure we all do like a little mystery and surprise. I suppose I am more referring to people who are coined as "mysterious". There is something quite appealing to having to figure out the mystery... and there really is something attractive on not quite knowing what the person will do next.

But, frankly, I'm tired of it now. Although I still kinda sorta like it, I am moving farther and farther away from it. I find people go out of their way to appear to be "mysterious", and that can be downright irritating. I am realizing that I really like honesty, and I like to be able to laugh with someone, make fun of them, and exchange jokes and anecdotes. It's difficult to do that with a "mysterious" person because they cannot and do not show much of themselves. The unfortunate part is that it can really inhibit a friendship from growing.

Heinrich Heine, born right after the French Revolution, was a very influential German political poet. He was a very interesting man -- very literate and well read. He wrote quite beautiful poems, whilst at the same time commenting on the social and political situation. The funny thing about him is that he surrounded himself all of his life in mystery. He often made up historical facts and would embellish things just to make himsself more interesting. He would tell people that he slept with all of these girls, even though he didn't. He even tried to convince people that he got syphilis (which was something to be proud of then, if you were "that" type of guy), just to prove as to how many girls he had been with. He was a guy who apparently enjoyed having people talk about him, especially if it was about something scandalous.

The other night, I was at a drama party quoted "for drama majors, drama minors, and everything in between". Since I was part of the latter gourp, I was allowed to attend. I had a very good time, although I witnessed a strange three-way kiss. Anyway, I was outside getting a breath of fresh air at some point with some people. As soon as we stepped outside, this guy asked us if we had a cigarette.

No, sorry.

He looked down melancholy and started rubbing his knuckles frantically.

Um, are you okay? one of the guys asked. He said "yes" under his breath, walked up to the door, opened it with a flair, and dramatically walked back into the bar.

Pfff! I started chuckling. Oh, what drama!

I just shook my head at the absurdity of it all. So many people, guys especially, in the drama department strive to be the most mysterious and emotionally deep people in the world. A lot of girls go for that, so that is perhaps why they do it. I find it funny, more than anything. Who are they kidding?

A few years ago, a psychology major was thinking on doing her thesis on finding connections between drama kids and emotional trauma as youth. She never did do it, but I doubt she would actually find anything. Remember, for many drama people, life is a show, so they have no problems hamming it up!

Oh, and I should point out now that I do not include myself in the "drama people" or "drama kids" groups. So, I should also mention that not all theatre inclined people are in those groups either.

Now, let me end this entry with a quote from our ever so loved, Heinrich Heine:

"Love is a matter of money, not heart."

Ha! It reminded me of a certain couple I know in which the girl does not want to get married unless it is for money. Too bad I can't make this work with Leonard Cohen anymore.

Alone?

After reading an entry about the appeal of doing things alone (in Sarah's blog), I decided that I myself would write something about it. I have thought about this numerous times; though, as many things, I have just not written it down yet.

All throughout high school, I was annoyed with girls who could not go to the bathroom on their own. They always needed to have another girl with them. I dreaded hearing the words,

"Come to the bathroom with me!"

It was always said in such a way that I found extremely pathetic. I mean, if you can't even go to the bathroom on your own, a very personal activity, then it shows how little you can really do alone. Then again, a lot of people cannot shine like me when it comes to self-confidence in high school, so I really can't blame them.

Although I really enjoy being around positive and fun people, I also treasure my alone time very much. Sometimes, I just need to take a midnight walk by myself. Sometimes, I just need to sit by the river or play music alone in my room. Sometimes, I also enjoy sitting out on the balcony and singing. Another great solace is playing the piano -- something I can do solo for hours on end until I literally collapse.
Alone time is superb. It gives you a chance to think, relax, and just cultivate your aloneness. I am not saying that it isn't relaxing with other people; it is just sometimes very nice to withdraw yourself for a bit.

I also enjoy doing things alone, sometimes in the interest of meeting new people. Particularly at Bishop's, I like to arrive at the cafe, a club, or a meeting alone, just to be able to do something that I want to do, not relying on anyone else. And, who knows? Sometimes I will get into an interesting conversation with someone, sometimes I will just sit back and listen, and other times I will leave early. It's up to me, and I like that; there's no pressure.

I enjoy shopping usually with just one other person. I enjoy eating with others, and I like to have interesting discussions. I do like being around people, but there simply are times that I would prefer to be alone, in a room filled with cushions, paper, pens, and a grand Steinway piano.

The Edukators

Perk number one of having an ushering job at Centennial theatre: being able to watch cool movies.

Tonight, I was privy to the late show of the film, The Edukators. It is a superb German film, very poignant and real. When the movie first started, I wasn't quite sure if I was going to like it, as they seemed to be dipping quite often into clichés. It is a movie about young people living a difficult life, who often feel exploited by capitalism and rich people. They are the new age hippy; they support animal rights, crusade against child labour, and whine and complain about how the rich have sucked out all of their potential.

The film becomes interesting when the three main characters kidnap a very rich guy who supposedly exploits the young girl. The four of them temporarily live in a small wood cabin in the heart of mountains. They are surrounded by stunning views, grassy knolls, and fresh rivers; it is simply beautiful. I thought the pace of the movie was very well done, the characters seemed realistic, although quite idealistic, and the music choice was amazing. I am completely speechless when Hallelujah, my number one favourite song, is played. Jeff Buckley sang it in this movie. Then again, perhaps I was completely enthralled by that song and disregarded the movie altogether, so who really knows, right?

Regardless, I found the movie to be quite moving, and I recommend it to those who will not get too bogged down by the initial view of risky and irresponsible youth.

Something "HA!" worthy

The only thing wrong with being an atheist is that there's nobody to talk to during an orgasm.

Brilliant!