12.10.10

Tiny Man; Dancing Cat

So, so, SO many things to talk about.  Where to start; I DON'T KNOW.  I guess I'll start on where I left off.  The show went rather well.  One girl, bless, messed up her line and let the entire audience know by saying 'Gosh' at the end.  Afterwards, she was in such a tizzy that she nearly walked off into the recesses of backstage, when she was supposed to be on stage again.  Yours truly saved the day in alerting her that she was needed on stage.  Of course, she made up some sort of excuse about how she forgot to put her sweater on and she was going to do it, and then she remembered she had to be on stage, but you, I, and God know the truth, and we'll keep it that way.


I never messed up once thankfully.  We did lose Chris' armhole in dressing one night, but we quickly found it, so all was well.  Did I forget to mention that I quick-changed Chris for the show?  Well I did.  He stripped down to his skivvies and I put his costume over his head.  I then folded all his clothes like a mother-wife-secretary friend would do.  I am such a good person; I should get a macaroni sculpture to acknowledge this.


During the show and before I would go back in the back and study French. By doing this I avoided doing any energy/focus exercises and therefore inevitably, making roof shingles out of my legs.  I have learned more French this past week than I have all semester.  I sort of wanted to join the fun of making a fool of myself in the group exercises; but in the end, my lack of confidence and utter fear that I would look stupid (no, I know.  It makes no sense) overrode everything, so instead of looking stupid, I looked smart.  Studying French.  In the back.  Alone.


:(


BUT.  It was fun.  Jack and Tim bought all the girls roses, and Chris ran out of balloons for this one scene.  He asked me to get some at Party Zone while I was in Franklin, and I found a bag for $12.00 dollars.  (!)  So Chris now is the proud owner of more balloons than one man should ever need to possess.  If he ever aspires to be a clown, he's set.


Jack, Tim and Volpsters would go outside and try to throw candy in each others mouth.  The won some and lost some.  Ew, and in one scene Chris had to carry raw meat, and it killed me because it smelt so raunchy and it was raw meat.  Oh vomit.


OH.  And there was a cast party.


Chris:  Are you going?
Me:  Where?
Chris:  To the cast party.
Me:  Do I need to go?
Chris:  Have you ever been to a party?
Me:  *whine commences* No.  Do they drink?  Is there drinking?  Are they going to be sloshed?  Are their drugs?  Am I going to get raped?  Will you watch me and make sure I'm alright?
Chris:  Um, yes, yes, yes, yes, no and I am not responsible for you.
Me:  *whining ever increasing* But Chris.  I dunno.  Do I need to go?  I'm scared to go.
Chris:...
Me:  But I've never gone to a party before.  *small, nervous chuckle*  Experience and what not, right?  College...college is about parties, and I wouldn't drink, but I would feel uncomfortable, yes?
Chris:  ...yes.  You don't need to go Rachel.  You need to go home, get some sleep and go to church tomorrow.
Me:  *hysterical* Now you're mocking me!
Chris:  No, I'm not.  But you won't like it.  I'm just going for a minute, telling everyone they did great, and then I'm leaving.  I'll text you when I leave, and it'll be okay.
Me:...okay. *sniff*


So after more discussions on "you think I'm a prude," "no, I don't," etc., I tearfully hugged Chris bye, got in my car and left.  Chris got home safely about 30 minutes later, and it wasn't that ragging yet, but I'm sure it became such.


Overall it was great fun, and I enjoyed it, all in all.  I was complemented on my stage handiness, and it was suggested that I be Assistant Stage Manger for the next show.  I have a "very level head and amazing focus."


One thing bothered me though, and I'm going to post my feelings on it in a public blog.


One girl sat in the hallway before the first show, doing tarot cards to predict the outcome of the show.  I was about 2 yards away from her, reading my bible in preparation.  And nearly everyone was drawn to her.  She did readings for everyone, they could "feel the energy," some asked for private readings, etc.  No one approached me.


This bothered me, perhaps, more than anything.


Isn't it funny how people flock to something like that vs the Bible?  I know it all boils down to opinion, of what is right and what is wrong.  And inevitably, to a 20 year old mindset, tarot cards are much more interesting than the Bible is.


Every night, I watched those actors and actresses nervously prepare themselves.  Some of the chit-chatted, some of them buried themselves.  And it made me wonder, what is it like to go through life alone?  To know, that when you go up on that stage, it's all you.  To not know that God is there to help, to give you the confidence and understanding to be the best you could ever possibly be.  To know that, even when you mess up, God is still loves you.


What is it like to go through life and think it's all your fault something happened, and to carry the weight of things completely on your shoulders?  To worry about things constantly and to think, "it's all on me."  I've had the privilege of knowing God since infancy, and I couldn't tell you how this feels because I've always known God was there to help me get through these things.  In this I am so entirely blessed and grateful.  To know that there is hope regardless of what I've done or what the outcome looks to be. 


After this night, while I drove home, I prayed for those poor kids.  The play they participated in was not exactly clean or right, but, as Jesus Himself said, "Fatherforgive them, for they know not what they do. (Luke 23:34)"  I know I may not be the most wonderful witness, but, I am, in a way, all there is, so I must suffice.  God's done more with worse than I, I'm sure.


Getting off the Biblical path, I went through some mysterious woods at Western.  I was bored and had an hour to kill, so I drove over to the baseball fields.  I found a creepy underpass, so I took it and then I found a creepy institutional building with creepy statues of children, and then I found a creepy trail in the woods and I took it.  I got a little frightened, and I thought I heard people (I did.  It was the band practicing) and I kept thinking some rapist or a gypsies clan, or a gypsy rapist was going to get me, but I trucked on and I ended up on some road, and I took it and I ended up somewhere and I found about 17 large above ground pool looking things, and on reflection, I think they may have had bodies for them for the body farm.

I eventually found my way out, but I want to go back and follow a mysterious road I found.  Nothing takes away your worries like a scary hike in unknown woods alone.

Dance has been going well.  (sort of)  I made a 92% on my 40s dance thing, and Kayren said it was because I was just "so cute."  Yet again, my cheese allows me to soar to new heights.  Today, Jordan told Chris and Volpi that I looked adorable when I danced and they told him I looked more like a wild fire, destructing everything in my path.  Gah, they're jealous.

Yesterday in Ballet, Chris took me aside and showed me how to do a glissade, because apparently he couldn't stand watching my failure any longer.  On a brighter note, I made a 110% on my ballet vocabulary quiz.  This shows that, although my body may not move all that well, I am a genius.

Here is a picture of a tiny man and his dancing cat:

Speaking of cats, I have grave, grave news.  My beloved Smudge, the star of The Diary of Anne Frank passed away.  It was all of a sudden; suddenly, he wouldn't move or eat, and Aunt Dale drove to our house to take him to the vet and he was gone, laying in front of Grandma's chair.  I found out near the end of rehearsals on Thursday night.  I began crying (I tried to stay in my cubby, but they found me) and all the actresses wiped my eyes and fixed my make up and hugged me, but then they had to go on stage, so Jaclyn took me outside and I cried all over her, and Chris found out and he hugged me for a long time while I slightly sobbed into him, and then during notes, he made hand puppets to make me feel better.  I made a killer one that tried to eat his.

I miss Smudge dearly.  He was a cat that didn't mind me when I dressed him up, and dragged him around and put him in boxes, and for that I am grateful.  It's funny; I used to hate Smudge.  He was my grandmother's cat, and when I came home from school, I would sit in front of the stove and he would lay with me.  I was afraid to pet him because he liked to bite and scratch if you pet him too much, but eventually got up the nerve, and he learned to love me and I him.  Once I was trying to trim the fur on his ears, and I accidentally cut a piece off, and it bled but he didn't notice, and I doctored it up.

Grandma always said, "if something happens to me, you get that cat."  When she did pass away, they tried to give him to my Aunt Carolyn, but I pitched a fit.  He was my cat.  I won, eventually.  He slept with me, and he had the most annoying purr, but I miss it now.

-Me

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