Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #14.2 - Mrs. Hawking 1.3

Had to submit my workshop manuscripts for the upcoming residency period of my grad school today. I included pieces of my Tailor screenplay, and the first four scenes of Mrs. Hawking. Here is scene three, which I just wrote, to complete that first chunk of the text. Scenes one, two, and four are also posted here.

As I've mentioned, I very much conceived of Mary and Mrs. Hawking as a sort of female Watson and Holmes. This has been helped enormously by being in Sherlock Holmes: The Final Adventure right now. But it occurs to me, amusingly, that there's also going to be something of a Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth thing going on here-- a brilliant, damaged heroic figure and the more well-adjusted person who takes care of that hero, once the hero lets their friend in enough to allow them to love them. That makes me smile. That will come out more and more as the story goes along.

SCENE iii

(MARY sits with an appointment book open on the parlor table. She springs up when MRS. HAWKING enters from the study followed by two well-dressed young women.)

MRS. HAWKING: Mary, please show these ladies out.

MARY: This way, misses. Did you have a pleasant visit?

FIRST LADY: Oh, very helpful indeed.

MARY: Oh… how lovely. Have a good day now. And do come again!

SECOND LADY: (Laughing) Not with any luck, we won’t!

(They exit and MARY closes the door behind them, a bemused look on her face. MRS. HAWKING starts digging through a bag on the table.)

MARY: So many visitors today!

MRS. HAWKING: Yes, I am unusually occupied. Do take care to keep the appointments from running into one another. It will not do to run off schedule.

(She pulls out a notebook and begins looking through it.)

MARY: Of course, Mrs. Hawking. It can be quite the undertaking to entertain so many friends.

MRS. HAWKING: Friends? Goodness, no. I am not a sociable creature. Strictly business, Miss Stone.

MARY: I see. And are all these ladies come… seeking the same thing?

MRS. HAWKING: Each in their own way.

(The front bell rings. MARY rushes to answer it and opens the door to an older middle-class woman.)

MARY: Good morning. How may I help you?

MRS. KELLEY: Good morning to you. I’m here to see the lady of the house. Mrs. Colonel.

MARY: Yes, right this way. Madam, your guest has arrived.

MRS. HAWKING: Ah, yes. Mrs. Kelley, is it?

MRS. KELLEY: I simply must speak with you. It’s become quite urgent, you see.

MRS. HAWKING: I very much understand. Please go into the study, I shall be with you shortly.

(MRS. KELLEY nods and walks past her to EXIT. Mrs. Hawking begins writing in her notebook.)

MRS. HAWKING: Mary, what name is marked down for one o’clock?

MARY: A Mrs. Henry Walter Northbrook, ma’am.

MRS. HAWKING: Indeed.

MARY: Will you and Mrs. Northbrook be taking luncheon together?

MRS. HAWKING: Luncheon?

MARY: It will be the luncheon hour.

MRS. HAWKING: Ah, no. Just tea will suffice.

MARY: Of course. Tea it is. I am happy to be of help in whatever what I can!

MRS. HAWKING: Most excellent.

(MRS. HAWKING goes to exit, with MARY on her heels. She stops in her tracks, presses her lips together, and looks over her shoulder at the girl.)

MRS. HAWKING: Thank you, Mary.

MARY: Oh! Oh, yes, of course, madam.

(MARY busies herself with some small chores in the parlor. Mrs. Hawking exits into the other room. MARY looks after her as if lost. Then the bell rings again. MARY rushes to answer it and this time it is a working-class girl.)

GRACE: Please, miss, I’ve just got to see the lady.

MARY: Of course. Do you have an appointment?

GRACE: Sure do, miss. Grace Monroe at eleven-thirty.

MARY: Ah, yes, I see you. You’re rather early yet, Miss Monroe, Mrs. Hawking is still with a prior engagement.

GRACE: No trouble, I’ll wait as long as I need.

MARY: Very well, then. Please sit and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be putting on the tea soon.

GRACE: Thanks very much, miss.

(GRACE settles into a chair, stiff and anxious. Again MARY attempts to busy herself, but after a moment sidles back over.)

MARY: Please, miss… might I ask… what brings you here?

GRACE: Begging your pardon?

MARY: Ah… on what business have you come to see Mrs. Hawking?

GRACE: Why, same as everyone, I should expect!

MARY: And… what business is that?

GRACE: Don’t you know?

MARY: I’m afraid I don’t.

GRACE: Miss, she’s known far and wide for it. She tells women what they ought to do.

Cute yard rock dragon

Look what I saw out the window of my car yesterday as I was on the way to call for Sherlock Holmes.

Not something I'd put in my own yard, but I must say it brought a smile to my face as I was driving by.

The scandal in Bohemia

If you are familiar with the fabulous Sherlock Holmes story A Scandal in Bohemia, the only one to feature Irene Adler and one of the stories to inspire the show I am in, you know that Irene Adler was in possession of a photograph of herself with the King of Bohemia. The two of them carried on a whirlwind affair, and when he broke it off so that he could marry some Scandinavian princess, she threatened to ruin that marriage by sending the photograph to his bride's father on the day of the wedding. This image above is what we're using for that photograph in the show, and I must say that the two of us do making a charming couple, as they say in the show, "the very picture of love."

With my modern sensibilities, I find it absolutely hilarious that such a tame picture of a man with his ex-girlfriend could be the cause of so much shame and distress. Our director Matt, who took the picture, joked that he should be doing a line of coke or something off my stomach, except that in Victorian times cocaine was a lot more acceptable than dating an opera singer, apparently. I am curious exactly what the nature of the issue is supposed to be. Is it that the highborn king of Bohemia would be degraded to be known to have carried on an affair with a lowborn adventuress from New Jersey? Is it that it is evidence that Wilhelm is going to his marriage less pure and virginal than the driven snow? If that's it, well, at least I am pleased at the lack of a double standard, as I'm sure dear Princess Clothilde is expected to be.

As I mentioned, when we realized the audience is not going to be seeing this picture given how small the prop is, we took silly ones after.

These are my favorites.

Jared in PMRP!

The Post-Meridian Radio Players just announced their cast lists for their Summer Radio Mystery Theater! I am very proud to say that Jared will be playing not one but two parts across the three pieces featured in this show. In the production of "Gracie Takes Up Crime-Solving," drawn from the Burns and Allen show, he will be playing the womanizing charmer Bill Goodman. Personally I thought his reading at the audition for that part was phenomenal, so I'm really glad he got it. This piece will be directed by usernamenumber*, and I'm so happy for him that he'll get a chance to work under Brad's direction. Additionally, the other day he was offered the role of Sir Henry Baskerville in another of the three pieces The Hound of the Baskervilles. I am a huge fan of that novel, so that's really cool. He'll be in excellent company, too. Congratulations to rigel* for getting the lead in Sorry, Wrong Number, directed by the awesome audioboy. And most of the other cast members are names I recognize from previous productions Jared did with Theatre@First, such as the amazing Leslie Drescher, who was Rosalind and Caroline Bingley. Jared's wanted to get into voice acting for a long time now, and I know he loves working with this group, so I'm extremely happy for him. It makes me so proud to see his name on the cast lists here on the show website.

Jared and went to see the last production that PMRP put on, when they did an episode of Red Shift and a reading of The Day the Earth Stood Still. I'd never been to an audio drama performance before, so I didn't know what to expect. They lined the edge of the stage with microphones and had a row of chairs along the back where the actors waited until it was their time to move up and speak. The sound effects were handled by the techies over the sound system, like in a regular play. The actors were sort of in costume too, which was interesting. I was impressed to learn that oakenguy* was one of the writers of well-written and hilarious Red Shift script. All the actors were very funny and did a great job, but the highlight of the show for me was lediva*, talking in the WEIRDEST sort of strangled-off nerd voice, playing a violently obsessed fan from a race of acid-spitting aliens. It was an interesting experience, and one I will be repeating when I attend the Summer Radio Mystery Theater. It will be July 27th and 28th, both nights at 8PM and then a 2PM matinee on Saturday. I hope you'll join me there for Jared's PMRP debut!

Holmes tech

This weekend was load-in for Sherlock Holmes, and things went quite well for my first time doing this with a group other than Hold Thy Peace. I threw on my work clothes and reported for duty at the Natick Center for the Arts, which is a converted firehouse made into a very cool performance space. We spent Saturday and Sunday setting up the stage, building the set, and hanging the lights. I've picked up the ability to at least lend a hand to just about everything, but I was assigned to painting early on with the seventeen-year-old ASM and our Holmes's two young daughters. I think there may have been some of "let's not give the little girls the heavy lifting jobs" in that assignment, at which I roll my eyes, but I enjoyed the work and feel like I made a pretty solid contribution. Our assistant director Tom said, "I really admire your enthusiasm," to me, as I was jumping in to help wherever I could. That made me feel good, as I really do like tech week-- as I said to him, I want to do and make all these things that aren't feasible in my regular daily life, so tech week is my chance to build stuff or paint stuff and all other sorts of things of that nature. My best contribution here was that I was allowed to do the painting for the flats representing the interior of the gasworks. I was told to make the plain green look like aged, worn metal, so I took a sponge and dabbed it with black paint, then went over that with the other end of the sponge dipped in green paint. Then I smeared the whole thing together, and splattered some white flecks by Tom's suggestion. Somebody with more knowledge and experience will probably have to clean it up a bit, but as you can see from this picture, it doesn't look half-bad.

Daylilies, day 10

It's been ten days since I planted my three daylilies in pots on the deck. Two of them have made visible progress!

I've been watering them every day except for the days they've been rained on, and they seem to be coming along. The third one, however, is sadly still a stunted little thing. It came that way right out of the foil, so maybe it's just a bad bulb. But I'm holding out hope because it has a little green nubbin growing on it, and that nubbin seems to have gotten bigger since its planting. You can just barely see it in this picture.

So maybe if I'm patient and careful this will eventually develop into something that doesn't look like a little dead twig. And even if it doesn't, I've read that when daylilies get going they split off into multiple lilies that eventually need to be separated so they don't crowd each other out of their pot. If this one bites it, I'll just save the pot to move the divided lilies into when they need to be thinned out. But it makes me smile to see something growing that I put into the dirt!

Out with the cast

Gah, so little sleep last night. My body has a strong tendency to wake me up very early no matter how long I've slept, and while I usually am in bed my midnight like a good little no-fun worker Bee, last night I went out with the Holmes cast after our last rehearsal before we get into our performance space. It was very fun, and since I often am often reticent about socializing on short acquaintance, it makes me happy that I got along so well with this all-new cast. Especially since we went to a place pretty far outside my usual style, a dive bar with a too-loud band. Probably would have been sensible to go home a little earlier, but I was very much enjoying the company.

I got my hair done for the show. I had too much trouble on my own, so my mom suggested I go to a salon and have them put it up for me. The lady didn't exactly do the head-muffin I showed her in that picture, but she put it up attractively and gave me a gorgeous complicated bun in back. Unfortunately it was much more expensive than I thought it would be, so I am trying to strategically time when I get it redone. But people seemed to like it and think it looked right. I still don't think I'm ever as pretty with my hair up, but it was certainly more flattering than the head muffin. Our Moriarty is a gentleman named Paul who I like a lot, he's got a wry sense of humor and he's kind of hot in an offbeat sort of way, and he gave me his little rose prop that he uses early on in the show. I put it in my hair and wore it that way for the rest of the night, and when I tried to give it back at the bar after rehearsal, he told me to keep it.

We had headshots taken for the lobby board taken last night. I am not excessively happy with mine. Yeah, yeah, despite my love for people taking and desiring to take my picture, I never like how I look in photographs-- it's a complicated thing, this part of me --but I really don't think these came out. There's a lot of shadow on my face and I think I look distorted because of it. Plus my hair is up, which just never works as well. Bah. I'll just have to pick the best of the lot and obsess over it to myself.

We also took the plot-relevant picture of Irene Adler and the King of Bohemia, the scandalous image over which Irene threatens to blackmail the King and ruin his marriage. Me and Tom, the actor playing the king, looked adoringly at each other arm in arm until Tom realized that nobody in the audience would ever really be able to see the picture, so he started doing silly things. I think we did the pose from Titanic and a dramatic romantic dip. It was lots of fun. I love when I can laugh and joke with the cast I'm in. Especially given my solitary, introverted nature, I got really lucky with these folks. <3

Awkward shot of my head flower again.

Nearing tech week for Sherlock Holmes!

I turned down a part I got in a show today. That's the first time I've done that except in undergrad when I was choosing one show over another, back in the day when it was the etiquette to do so. The role was Dolabella in the Gazebo Players summer production of Antony and Cleopatra, directed by the awesome Debbi Finkelstein. I've always wanted to work with her, but the role is small and I am called for an awful lot of rehearsal given that, which when it requires an hour round-trip of driving just seems like too large a commitment of time. It would have been fun, but I will have just too much grad school work by then to take away time from working on it for a part I don't feel passionate about. I just hope I sounded polite and gracious when I declined. I still would really like to work with Debbi as a director someday, as I've heard she does good work.

This is a picture of me with our Sherlock Holmes. Tonight is the last Holmes rehearsal before tech week begins. I have enjoyed this process immensely, and I feel really good about the show. Having this role has been great for me. I got it strictly by giving a good audition, rather than people knowing me already, which made me proud of myself. And getting the chance to dig into an interesting character and develop a complete performance To be honest I find this conception of Irene in the script to be a little nonsensical if you scrutinize her too much, but I've reconciled and made her my own.

Lenny said to me a little while ago that she thought my best performances were the ones where I didn't need to worry about projecting the opposite gender-- specifically, Cordelia, the Fool, and Puck. Something I've always wondered was if my acting was hobbled a little by having to distract myself with projecting a masculine carriage. Also, because I am so willing to cross cast, I think I get automatically discounted for female roles sometimes because there's always girls who insist that they absolutely can't play a guy. :-P And then most people tend to not want to cross cast important male roles, which means I don't get considered for those either, which limits me further. I should probably just quit saying I'm willing, though I hate the idea of making myself sound so delicate. But it's been nice to get a real role who's a woman for once and be able to concentrate all my energy into acting the character. Also, it's kind of flattering to have gotten it. It's fun getting to be the Pretty Girl. Don't get me wrong, I've loved me my dude roles, but especially given how down I'm been feeling about myself, it's made me feel good to know that people think I make a believable embodiment of a brilliant, singular woman with "a face a man might die for." ;-)

The cast and crew have been great too. They're all really nice and extremely talented, pushing me to try and do better so I measure up to them. I would be happy to work with them again anytime. Even if you're coming to see me, it would be worth it to come to see them.

Biweekly Theater Writing Challenge #14 - Mrs. Hawking 1.2

Okay, the whole "biweekly" thing fell by the wayside when I was occupied by turning Tailor into a screenplay because I didn't want to repost scenes that were too similar to what you'd already read. But I did generate some pieces of prose fiction for Fallen, and hey, I have a whole screenplay now. But it's time to go back to regular drama. Finally, after picking at it every day for a week, I have finished what I believe will be scene two of my play-in-progress Mrs. Hawking, the scene that immediately follows this one. It's supposed to demonstrate the challenges that Mary is going to face getting along in Mrs. Hawking's employ-- the fact that Mrs. Hawking doesn't want her there, and insists she doesn't have any use for her, preferring that she stay quiet and out of the way. And Mary's got it tough enough as it is, with her parents' death and her life turned upside down, without Mrs. Hawking making it any harder on her.

Scene 2

(MARY enters to meet MRS. HAWKING in the parlor.)

MARY: I believe that’s everything settled in.

MRS. HAWKING: And you find your accommodations adequate, then?

MARY: Oh, very much so, madam. I’m quite ready now.

(MRS. HAWKING stares at her.)

MARY: To learn my duties. If you’ll tell me what they are.

(MRS. HAWKING stares a bit longer, then clears her throat.)

MRS. HAWKING: I shall be frank. I’ve no idea what to do with you.

MARY: I… I see.

MRS. HAWKING: Oh, don’t fret, I am not about to dismiss you and bring my nephew down on my head again. And do not think I am ignorant of your predicament.

MARY: My predicament, madam?

MRS. HAWKING: It is clear that you are here because you have nowhere else to go.

MARY: I… I suppose that’s the truth.

MRS. HAWKING: At first I thought you were perhaps a camp nurse, but with so reliably required a position, what could draw you back to a country in which you had nothing? No, clearly you were one whose hold to your home had been broken, and you found yourself obliged to make a new start. And what more likely girl to turn up seeking a housekeeper job than a girl who had lost those for whom she’d always kept house? Your mother and your father at once, then?

MARY: Yes, within a few weeks of one another. Scarlet fever.

MRS. HAWKING: Hmm. You have my condolences. It certainly leaves you in a difficult position, which places us in the predicament in which we currently find ourselves. Well, I am not unsympathetic. I am sure we can remain sufficiently out of one another’s way to manage.

MARY: I… I am grateful, madam. Still, I should very much like to make myself useful.

(MARY thinks for a moment.)

MARY: At what time do you prefer to rise in the mornings?

MRS. HAWKING: I’ve no use for such a routine. I never know when I may find it necessary to keep nocturnal hours.

MARY: Oh. Shall I then… help you dress for the day? I know corset laces can be difficult to manage on one’s own—

MRS. HAWKING: This room is the one damned place in the world I’m free of that nonsense, by God, I’ll not play to it here. I’ll do what I like in my own home.

MARY: Of course. Are there things you rather like or dislike for supper?

MRS. HAWKING: I have very little appetite these days. Best not to bother so.

MARY: I… I see, madam. Do you at least take tea at some time?

MRS. HAWKING: Tea? Ah, yes, I suppose. I will have an afternoon tea.

MARY: Very well, then! That is something to begin with, now, isn’t it?

(MARY pulls out a rag from her pocket and begins dusting and straightening up.)

MARY: I make a very good cup of tea. I’m a fair cook as well, if I may say so, so perhaps I can tempt you anyway. And I’ve spent years learning to keep house. I shall be of help to you somehow, I am sure of it.

(As MARY goes to dust the mantle, she notices the portrait of the distinguished gentleman hanging over the fireplace.)

MARY: Is that your late husband?

MRS. HAWKING: The Colonel Reginald Prescott Hawking, yes.

MARY: Nathaniel speaks very highly of him. He must have been a great man.

MRS. HAWKING: Oh, indeed.

(MARY waits expectantly for a moment for her to go on. She does not.)

MARY: I know very little about him, I suppose. Just what Nathaniel had mentioned.

MRS. HAWKING: You must ask him sometime. He does love to talk about his uncle.

(MRS. HAWKING pointedly looks away. MARY scrambles awkwardly.)

MARY: I am sorry, madam. How thoughtless of me, it must be painful to speak of him.

(MRS. HAWKING sighs.)

MRS. HAWKING: Think nothing of it. You are clearly an earnest and diligent young woman, Miss Stone. I’ll thank you to keep my appointments straight and brew some tea of an afternoon. That will serve quite admirably.

MARY: As you say, Mrs. Hawking.

MRS. HAWKING: Very good. That is all, Miss Stone.

(Exit MRS. HAWKING. MARY is left alone and adrift onstage.)

Thirty seconds of choreography!

I finally bit the bullet and bought an alumni gym membership at Brandeis's Gosman Athletic Center. Until very recently the only criteria for admission was to flash a student ID at the kid sitting at the table by the door, and since I still have an ID that looks current, it was not obvious that I was no longer a student. I got away with doing that for over two years, until they switched the entrance policy to having to scan said ID in a card reader before you could be admitted. My ID is long since deactivated, so that was the end of that particular scam. An alumni gym membership costs a hundred and seventy-five dollars, which if you break that down on a per-month basis like most gyms is a great deal. It's just that my budget is tight enough that dropping that much money all at a shot is kind of painful. But I'm glad I did it, because I can start going again.

What I did with the very first day of my new membership is to commandeer the excellent dance studio and dance for an hour. I practiced ballet, and I also made my first real, solid progress on my choreography idea. I've been unable to get the idea of putting together an Avengers-themed dance production set to certain songs on the film soundtrack, with each dancer representing a different character, and even though it's kind of a silly idea I feel inspired and energized about it. So I want to see if I can do it. katiescarlett29* and I are looking into venues and everything. But after about an hour of noodling around listening to Comeback by Redlight King, one of my favorites on the soundtrack and clearly the Captain America song, I hammered out about thirty seconds of solid choreography that I feel good about. I just kind of danced improvisationally, doing whatever came naturally as I listened, and then took whatever came out nicely (re: non-clumsily) I worked on refining into a series of steps. A slow, undisciplined process, perhaps, as I danced for about an hour and only came out with thirty seconds I could use, but it's only a three-minute-thirty-second song, so I just need to do that six more times, right? ;-)

Fighting the Italian way

Whenever I see a family, or a depiction of a family, that has extended, ongoing arguments, I'm always vaguely amazed. I'm much more used to GINORMOUS ANGRY EXPLOSIONS that are forgotten about the next morning. My family is loving, close, and affectionate, but of course nobody can get to your sore spots like the people you're closest to. My dad calls the way we fight "the Italian way." We YELL, we SCREAM, sometimes we say TERRIBLE THINGS WE DON'T REALLY MEAN, then we stomp off to our separate corners to cool down. And after the cool down, the next time we see each other... everything's okay. The argument's pretty much forgotten, and we get along better again. It is predicated on the assumption that nothing can ever break the bonds of our love for each other, and that the right thing to do is always forgive. I am grateful to have that; it's taught me trust my loved ones, and of course, to be forgiving as an act of love.

The downside, however, is that it's also based on the assumption that people don't really change. They act the way they way they're going to act because that's just part of who they are. To a certain extent I do believe it. Change comes slowly and only with a lot of work and focus. Sometimes when you love somebody you just have to accept that there's always going to be things about them that you don't like or find frustrating.

But often that means that nothing gets resolved. I mean, yeah, I do think that sometimes you can't work through differences and you just have to agree to disagree. But if there is a chance that they can, you never find out, because nobody tries. There's just an explosion that you have to get over immediately. It's nice to have people who always love you and forgive you NO MATTER WHAT, but sometimes it might be nice to see something change for the better next time. Or hell, even hear somebody say "I'm sorry."

Funny sewing machine diagram

I especially like "cryhole" because I suck at threading bobbins, or as I shall be saying henceforth, the "arc reactor." I like all the nerd references utilized here.

Grumble grumble grouch grouch

Grouchy. I wanted to finish recording Gigi's parts in the first and second episodes of Tailor of Riddling Way last night, but there was an unaccountable buzz being recorded by the headset. This is a new thing and we couldn't figure out where the hell it was coming from. It was very consistent, so Bernie could edit it out mostly, but it was very hard to get it so there wasn't any distortion remaining in the line. We managed to get all her lines for episode one done, which means we could focus on producing that for release in the meantime, but I wanted to get the couple of remaining pieces of episode two as well. Gigi is going home for the summer at least, and though there is a strong chance she will be attending Boston College Law School this coming semester and will be accessible then, at least for the meantime she will not be readily available. I hate when this sort of technical error happens, because I hate anything in my projects happening that is beyond my personal ability to fix. Also, chances are I'll have to spend money on new equipment to deal with this, which I really, really don't want to do, and I'll have to make sure any new equipment records a sound that isn't radically different from the recordings we've already got.

Also, I hurt my ankle a few days ago and it is getting in my way. It feel fine as long as I'm sitting on my ASS being USELESS, but I have too many things to do and I do enough sitting as it is. Unfortunately the more I walk on it, the more painful it becomes, not all that much but just enough to be really, really irritating. I have dance I want to work on, and this is not helping at all.

Plie in heels

Ever heard of a "click moment"? An instance where due to looking at something in a particular way makes something suddenly make more sense to you than it ever had before?

I had a small once last night when I discovered something interesting. I was at rehearsal, waiting off to the side for my cue to enter. I started idly practicing some ballet steps, holding on to a study carrel like a bar in the high school library where we rehearse. I especially like to practice developpes, because they're so difficult for me, incorporated into some basic routines we use in class.

I've never had a very deep demi-plie in fifth. I can go reasonably low in first and extremely low in second, but not at all in fifth. But last night it seemed remarkable, without even stretching or warming up, I was getting much, much deeper than I ever did in class. I wracked my brain trying to figure out what was different until I realized. I was wearing character shoes, bought specifically for this role as Irene Adler. Very low ones, only an inch high, unfortunately; I was in a rush when I got them, but if I'd had more time I would have sought out slightly higher heels. But when you do a demi-plie in fifth you're supposed to keep your heels flat on the ground, limiting your bend to how long your Achilles tendons can stretch from that position. In my case I guess that's not much. But with my heels even one inch higher off the ground than usual, I could bend many inches deeper than otherwise. It was strange what a huge difference just one inch off the ground made. And it highlighted how important it is for me to keep my body position in mind when I dance.

Not a big deal, I guess. But it kind of blew my mind.

The height of hair fashion in the 1890s

I got my hair done tonight for my show. As a lady of the 1890s with a well-known reputation as a diva, Irene Adler styles herself only in the latest and most sophisticated of haute couture fashions. Such as this charming muffin-head, with a bun set on top.

I can't say I love it; I've always thought I was vastly better looking with my hair down than up even in the most elegant of styles. I modeled once for a guy who started pinning it up, took one look at me, and said, "Oh, THAT'S why you wear it down." Not exactly sure what he meant by that, but it didn't seem, ah, flattering. This way's also pretty muffin-y, as I pointed out. But it is period, and it got compliments of appreciation (perhaps ironic, who knows) from others in the cast. I will also have a little fall of false hair, not pictured here, styled into long loose curls that I will pin into the bun, to sweep down my shoulder for drama.

The only real downside is I have to learn how to do it myself. The hair lady showed me how, but she can't be there for the shows, so it's on me. It involves flipping my hair over my head, spraying it with a fixative, teasing it, bundling it up on the crown of my head, and twisting it into a bun. I've got very little ability or experience doing hair, so I'm a little bit nervous. I guess I'll have to practice in hopes I won't go onstage looking any sillier than I should be, given the style I'm attempting to wear. You have to promise, guys, that you'll tell me if my head muffin looks dumb.

The Daphne Series

Here are the roughly edited photos selected from the awesome photo shoot I did featuring the lovely niobien*. I just can't get over how amazing she looks.

Carolyn is playing Daphne, a dancing nature spirit.

Potted the daylilies!

I planted my daylilies today!

I don't know much about flowers, so I looked up daylilies online and learned that one ought to plant them in potting soil in planters of at least twelves inches in width and depth. So after work I went over to the Waltham Home Depot and picked up the soil and took a look at pots. I wanted something a little prettier, but they got very expensive at that size. I would have gone with plain terra cotta, which were nice but much cheaper, except that they were heavy to lift even without dirt and a growing plant inside. So I just went with plastic, choosing ones as visually inoffensive as possible. I might end up killing these little fellows after all, so maybe I don't need to start splurging on their houses until I know they're not going to be dry and empty in a month.

I put them in just below the surface of the soil and gave them just a drizzle of water; it's likely they'll get more from the rain today. I followed the instructions as carefully as I could, so we'll see how it goes. And back in my hometown daylilies grow wild by the side of the road all over the place, so they can't be that fragile, can they? I can't wait till I find out what color they are. Maybe they'll all be different and I'll have one of each!

Six homework-free weeks to DO ALL THE THINGS!

After a fun but intensely packed weekend, my six homework-free weeks have officially begun! What do I plan to do with this glorious time, do you ask?

What ALL THE THINGS do I intend to DO, you ask?

- WRITE! There are three things that I want to focus on now. I want to noodle a bit on Break a Leg, my short funny metatheatrical larp. I want to work on back-engineering the work I did for the Tailor screenplay to finish the audio drama version. And I want to make a little headway on Mrs. Hawking. Next semester I'll be doing playwrighting again and I think that is what I would like to work on then. If I make a little headway on it now, maybe I can have enough of it done to submit pieces for my workshop manuscript for the residency.

- GARDEN! I want to plant the three daylilies we took home as favors from Nat and Vik's gorgeous wedding. I've never grown plants myself before, but my dad is an avid vegetable gardener and keeps lots of decorative flowers and trees in the yard, so I'm sure he could instruct me on how to raise a few pretty lilies. I'm not sure what color they are; orange is my favorite, but the yellow and the burgundy-red kinds are beautiful as well. I need to buy a planter and some potting soil.

- READ! I read constantly for entertainment, but it's mostly been blogs and the Internet and stuff. The books I've gotten to read for school, such as A Wizard of Earthsea and The Rhinoceros Who Quoted Nietzsche and Other Odd Acquaintances, have reminded me how much I'm missing out on. Bernie lent me Mistborn, so I guess I'll start with that, but I want to read at least one, maybe two real books this month.

- EXERCISE! I've been doing about one really hard workout a week, plus going to the Tuesday night ballet class that my rehearsal doesn't conflict with, but that's not enough. Now that I can spare the time, and I am going to get as much exercise as I can before I get busy again. I keep saying I'm going to do this, but I need to actually get off my ass when I don't have an excuse not to!

- DANCE! Going along with the exercise thing, I want to practice ballet. Also my INSANE GEEKY STUPID IDEA is that I want to choreograph an  Avengers-themed dance piece to the movie soundtrack, and even if that never goes anywhere, it's powerfully in my head right now and working on it at the very least will get me dancing and exercising! As lediva* wisely said, you always feel better going with that feeling of inspiration than you do regretting that you never went for it.

- SEW! I want to finish my Gertie crinoline 2.0 and the plaid skirt I drafted a while ago. morethings5* has gotten going with his sewing blog Gathering Pins and it's inspired me. The only way to progress is to practice, and I know I have the chunks of time necessary to really dig into my projects.

This may all be too much for just six weeks of free afternoons (my evenings are still pretty booked up) but I'd rather shoot for the moon and see how much I accomplish!

YAY THINGS!

International Steampunk City 2012

Jared and I just got back from a day spent at the International Steampunk City Fair held in downtown Waltham. I have to say, I love that this thing exists. Steampunk is a slightly obscure subculture, and a very geeky one at that. And yet the town authorities are cool enough to see the connection it can make to Waltham's history of watchmaking and development with the Industrial Revolution. And all the artists and artisans in this style get a venue with a ton of support to display their wares and their work. And geeks like me, who eat this stuff up, get to experience it for ten bucks and a short walk from my house. I think that's incredibly cool. I feel like, slowly but surely, various aspects of geek culture are going more and more mainstream, and over time we'll get more and more people who are open to fantastic stuff like this.

I had a lot of fun there. I loved walking around looking at the art pieces and the items for sale, and we attended some interesting panels too. Steam Fashion was great for definitional things, like a good, solid way to define the subculture and the aesthetic of steampunk as "the long (around one hundred thirty years) 19th Century," and the ideas behind the "ragamuffin," "aristocrat," "adventurer," "soldier," and "professorial" steam fashion styles. Thrifty Costuming had a lot of information I already knew-- at this point I'm a pretty experienced thrift store scourer --but also gave me a lot of great pointers for DIY props and pieces. They emphasized deconstruction very heavily, using pieces of things to build new things. I especially liked the idea of taking soft leather purses and cutting off the embellishments so as to turn them into belt pouches; a couple of the presenters had done that and I never would have guessed that they were repurposed modern items. I even picked up a battered old purse at the thrift store to try it out with and make a present for Jared.

We walked all over the town today, and though my feet are aching now, I'm very happy to have gotten that much exercise. I also loved the people-watching, seeing all the people going by in their costumes. It's really a great idea, and it supports the Charles River Museum of Industry too! So it's socially responsible as well as good geeky fun. :-D

From FALLEN - Marcus

My last science fiction and fantasy submission for the semester. This time I tried to introduce a lighter element by showing Gabriel having a friend. There are in the Ministers of Grace who have gotten past his appearance and nature. One of them is Marcus, a student from America who was sought out for his manifestation of powers of superhuman strength. He tries to be a good friend, even when it's hard, and calls Gabriel "Batman." There's also a mention of Rachel, who is an English student with the power of empathy, and her agnosticism has not been improved by witnessing what Gabriel has to go through.



Gabriel knew him a mile away. No one could sneak up on him under the best of circumstances, and he heard the heavy tread making its way up the stairs even before the cheerful humming. Gabriel waited there, perfectly still, so still that he might have been a carved gargoyle, but for the ceaseless slow twisting of his tail.

“I swear you do that to freak out the freshmen.”

Gabriel’s head turned over his shoulder. There was Marcus, still half-in his rugby gear, a six-pack of some cheap local beer in one hand and a steaming box of pizza balanced on the other.

“Do what?”

“The whole part-of-the-architecture thing.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If they’re spotting me, then I must not be doing it right.”

“Don’t stop now, Cameron loves it. He likes to gaslight the kiddies when they talk about seeing some creepy statue coming to life on the battlements.”

Marcus sat beside him on the ledge. Gabriel turned around and watched him dig enthusiastically into the pie. “Why is it always pizza and beer with you?”

“Just properly representing myself as an American. Plus I miss the States. You can’t get a decent pizza in the Irish countryside.”

“You still eat enough of it.”

“Lousy pizza’s better than no pizza at all.” He popped a beer out of the plastic rings and scooped up a steaming slice, then held them out with a tilted head and a raised eyebrow. Gabriel wasn’t much of a drinker, but he accepted the pizza with a nod.

Marcus grinned. “You know, for a hellspawn, you have remarkably few vices.” He cracked open the can and took a long slug. “For my part, I mean to completely undo all the healthful exercise I just got in.”

Gabriel bit carefully into his slice. His teeth were not particularly suited to pizza, but he liked the cheese, and he was glad for the company that came with it. He didn’t even mind the way Marcus teased him, casually throwing around words like creepy and hellspawn as if they were nothing. Quite the contrary, Gabriel was grateful for it. It meant that Marcus was not afraid. That alone made it worth it.

Normal conversation, too, was unusually rare for him, so he was glad to take the opportunity for it when he could. “How was practice?”

Marcus made a face. “Good as it’s going to be. Football’s my game, but they don’t even know what that is here. Rugby’s the closest I’m going to get.”

“I’m surprised they let you play. You have something of an unfair advantage.”

Marcus laughed. “Hey, I never crack that out on the field, okay?”

“How would anyone know?”

“Because I never left anybody a grease spot, that’s how!”

“Didn’t your power first manifest in the middle of a football game?”

Marcus affected an innocent face and tipped his head airily from side to side. “That may have been the case… but that was before I developed my superb level of control. And that kid only spent a month in that body cast, it could have been a lot worse! He was wearing a helmet, you see, so it was okay. You should come to a game sometime.”

“I’m sure Braden would love that.”

“Oh, so perch in some tree and watch me from there. Next one’s Sunday night!”

“Can’t. I go to confession then.”

His friend looked surprised. “You doing that again?”

“Now that there’s somebody to hear it.”

Marcus chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Father… Julien, is it?” He swallowed and grinned. “Should have known you’d be all over that.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I like him. He’s kind. He… he tries hard.”

“All priests walk on water to you.” The young man snorted. “Even old Cortes could do no wrong.”

“Have you met him? He’s not like Cortes.”

“There’s something in his favor.” Marcus made a face. “Well, you seem somewhat less miserable than you did coming back from it, so he must be an improvement somehow.”

The fanged jaw tightened. “That wasn’t Cortes’s fault.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re just fine at torturing yourself on your own.”

“It’s not about that.” Marcus had never understood Gabriel’s confessional habit.

“I still think you’re too hard on yourself.”

He cast about for something, some words he could use to explain the thing that had always been. “I… I need it, Marcus,” he said lamely. “I need to do it.” The words sounded so pitifully wrong. But they were easier to say than to describe to a normal person the feeling of hell breathing down his neck.

Marcus grinned in that wry way of his. “As they say, God doesn’t make junk.”

It was a kind thing to say, and Gabriel was grateful for it, but… “It’s not so simple. Not for me.”

He rolled his dark brown eyes. “Whatever you say, Batman.”

There was nothing Gabriel could say. Catholicism amused Marcus. Born and raised in a loving and social church community, his version of the religion was more about picnics and volunteering in soup kitchens on Thanksgiving than the powers of hell and mortal sin, even now that he’d seen such things face to face. Nuns wore funny hats, Christ’s love was complete and uncomplicated, and people got credit for doing the best they could. The rest was all slightly absurd.

Gabriel wished he could take it all so lightly. It was the whole of the world he lived in, and for all the burdens it laid on him it was still the source of the only comfort he’d ever known. He loved it as he loved all the good things in his life, with the sad, hopeless love that lived with the knowledge that he would never be worthy of any of it. He had no choice but to walk the path, but that did not take away the thorns.

Marcus sighed at the abrupt plummeting of Gabriel’s mood, sorry but not surprised. He stretched out one arm to laid across the crenellation and regarded the demon as if considering what he was about to say next.

“Gabe… can I ask you something?”

Gabriel nodded once in silent assent, not looking at him.

“What did you do?”

Now he lifted his gaze, and saw his friend’s expression was uncharacteristically serious. “What?”

Marcus shifted uncomfortably under the weight of those eyes, but still he pressed on. “I’ve seen the way everyone acts around you… the way they treat you. You’re scary, you’re a monster. There’s… something bad about you. I mean, I get it. Hell, I’ve seen you tear things apart when we’re out on missions. Nobody has to tell me that part.”

He took another sip of his beer and licked his lips. “But… you do that to fight monsters. To save people from them. But still. You’re always this bad thing for some reason. And I got to tell you, I don’t really know why. It’s like… everybody else knows it, but nobody talks about it. Nobody told me, and… that’s not the Gabriel I know.”

He pressed those white all-American teeth together and swallowed hard. He looked up and forced himself to return that golden stare.

“So… what bad things did you do? Why do you feel so guilty?”

Gabriel rose from his crouch on the ledge and began to pace. “It’s… it’s what I am.”

Still Marcus didn’t understand. He stood up too and followed after. “What is that? Is it… is it the violence? The-the killing stuff? Like they’re afraid you’ll go off on all of us—?”

“Of course they are!” Gabriel spun around so fast that he drove Marcus a step back. “You said it yourself. You’ve seen.”

He stood his ground. He was a six-foot-one running back, but Gabriel’s massive frame dwarfed even him. “Have you even ever done that?”

“Yes, I have! Braden—”

Marcus threw up his hands at him. “Oh, screw that! Braden’s the most badass telekinetic on the planet! He could nail your ass to the wall tonight, much less when you were half your size!”

Gabriel turned from him again, wanting to escape, before the rage welled up, before the truth broke out of him. But Marcus would not let him go.

"I know you, Gabriel. No matter what you or anybody else thinks about you. How could you be damned if you haven’t done anything worth damning you over!?”

“I don’t know!” he snarled. “I don’t know, all right!?”

He turned back around to see Marcus shocked, staring at him. His head shook back and forth, uncomprehending.

“I do everything I can to keep a hold on the monster in me. I don’t do all the terrible things they all think I’m going to do! I confess and I atone and I am so God damned sorry every minute of my life! And still… I know, in my guts, that no matter what, I’m damned.”

But Marcus didn’t see it, his whole life was built on the wide open arms of grace. “You can’t know—”

“I’m something that in a perfect world never would have come to be!”

Gabriel had so rarely spoken of it aloud. He hated it, wanted to disbelieve it with all of his soul, but again and again, he found himself crushed against that stark truth. The truth for which he would spend the rest of his life atoning.

“And all I can do is keep trying, and keep hoping… and I don’t know if I ever can. I don’t know if I can ever make up for it.”

The words felt empty, inadequate. No, he could not make light of it. It meant everything in the world.

Gabriel’s head bowed low on his long neck. Suddenly it was too much effort to hold it up. He blew out hard through his teeth. “I am demon, Marcus. Whatever else, I’ll never get away from that.”

He sank in a crouch back on the wall, not looking at anything. After a moment Marcus settled in beside him, the strength seeming to have run right out of him. “Jesus, Gabe.”

The hawk-like talons flexed and clenched. “Still think I’m just torturing myself?”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Of course you don’t.” How could he ever? How could Gabriel convey to him that he felt it, felt it in his bones, how far off grace was when his very existence was an affront against God? The weight of the shame of that knowledge?

“It’s not always that bad. Right?” Marcus shook his head. “Sometimes you seem okay. Like now… you laughed just now. I can get you to laugh.”

Gabriel stared off into the dark. He was out of words.

His friend’s usually amiable face was twisted in sorrow. “Can’t blame me for trying, man. Can’t stand knowing you’re off somewhere alone and hating yourself.”

His head did not turn, but suddenly Gabriel was struck. “Marcus… how did you know I was up here?”

He forced a laugh. “Wasn’t hard to figure out. Batman's always brooding on ledges.”

Gabriel regarded him with his golden hunter’s eyes. Marcus couldn’t meet his gaze. At last he sighed. “Rachel told me, okay?”

“Rachel?” The demon tried to keep his expression neutral. “How… how did she know? I haven’t seen her—”

“Gabriel. She always knows where you are.”

He shifted his wings against his back, shaking his head in feigned dismissal. “That makes sense, I guess. I— I don’t read like anyone else. I stand out.”

“Gabe. Come on.” Marcus crossed around to Gabriel’s other side so he could look him in the eye. “She thinks about you a lot.”

Gabriel stared.

“And… I know you think about her.”

“Marcus… don’t.”

He leaned against the wall and tried to smile. “So… what is that?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“I have a guess.”

“Don’t. Don’t say it.” He shook his head helplessly, fangs grinding as he gnashed them together. “It can’t… it can’t.”

His friend regarded him sadly. “But what if it is?”

“Marcus…” He spread his claws. “Look at me.”

Marcus did, and his expression broke.

Assignments and IDEAS

So close. So very close. I was a productivity machine this week, plowing through my projects one after the other. All I have left to do is finish my fiction piece for my final assignment of the semester. After that, I am done with all assignments for six weeks. Six glorious weeks of no homework, no deadlines, no projects except those I assign myself.

I brim with ideas. I have so many ideas for things I want to do and to make, and I want to make use of those six weeks to do a little something of them. A particular INSANE GEEKY NONSENSE idea has taken hold of me and begs me to do something about it, so maybe that will be early in the queue, if I  can get over what INSANE GEEKY NONSENSE it is.

Also, I am going out for things. Auditions, applications, submissions. I have a bad track record of getting anywhere with just responding to postings with things like cover letters and stuff like that, but I've got to keep trying, and it's one of the only ways I know how to. I dislike talking about going for things that never end up amounting to anything, so I won't be specific, but I'm putting myself out there. God willing, something will emerge.

Just one more thing to go. Eight pages of fiction to hand in on Saturday. Not really that much at all, but I'm a little stuck on what to write about (some piece of Fallen, I think, but I'm not sure which one) which makes it tough to dig in. Also, the brain is a little burnt from how busy I've been. But after this I will be finished, and hopefully going on to other ideas will re-energize my brain.

It is so like me to want to work on everything under the sun except the assignment that's due.